#and astarion gets distracted by gale's nice boots

[incorrect-bhaalspawn-quotes]

Astarion: Gale, when you die, can I have your boots?

Gale: No, they’re much too stylish for you.

[roguishcat]

A welcome distraction

Summary: Astarion was not nice. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning. But perhaps, given the right incentive, he could be persuaded to be nice to the one person who he felt deserved it most.

Tags: Fluff, tooth-rotting fluff

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

One-shot, 2.3k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

Astarion stretched out languidly on Tav’s bedroll, watching her as she looked through their magic trinkets to decide which ones they could do without. Ever since Gale came to her, confessing everything, telling her of his folly, Tav has taken extra care to set aside an item or two that the wizard could consume.

Now, if this was done out of sense of self-preservation, that would be completely understandable. It would be quite unfortunate for that orb in his chest to get so volatile it would just explode at random. Such a waste that would be. The world would lose its most beautiful creature! And just as he was starting to enjoy his freedom! And he supposed the wizard had his uses too.

Astarion blinked slowly and sighed. As nice as it was to have no one try to murder them for a change, he was getting bored. And his favourite source of entertainment seemed to have no time on her hands for him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

He moved closer to Tav and lifted his hand to rest on her head, running his fingers through her hair and then lower down to caress the exposed skin of her neck. Astarion knew that he was distracting her, that was the whole point of the gentle, feather-light touches that made goosebumps rise on her exposed arms. And when that garnered no reaction, Astarion lifted himself up to press his chest against her back, snaking his arms around her middle.

“Darling,” he said smoothly, kissing her shoulder, making a move to lift her shirt enough with insistent hands to expose skin and trace slow patterns just above her hipbones, “don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

“As nice as that sounds, I still have to go through all the scrolls and potions.”

“Nice? I can’t promise anything that uninspired,” he scoffed. Nothing about him was even remotely nice. Such a bland, plain word that carried little to no meaning.

“Something wicked, however,” he drawled, his lips almost touching Tav’s ear “that I could definitely provide.”

“Well, as delicious as that sounds, I’m not moving until I get this done. But perhaps you could help?”

“Tsk, you are no fun,” he pouted, lifting a necklace with the tip of his finger. “What’s this one supposed to do?”

“Let me just check… Misty Step.”

“Keeping it,” he would have squirreled it away earlier, but a part of him felt a sick sort of dread at taking something without waiting for permission first. It was almost like a reflex more than anything. Not to take without permission, lest he be punished.

“If you want,” Tav shrugged with a smile. “Put it into your pile, it’s that one.”

Astarion inwardly preened when he noted it was one of the bigger piles. He spied a bow and two rings perched on top of a set of armour. He supposed getting nice new things was worth an hour of boredom.

It was still a novel concept. Having things of his own. Being given what he needed or simply wanted with no strings attached. And it wasn’t just him that got such treatment. Tav tried her best to make sure that everyone was taken care of to the best of her ability.

Astarion would probably never admit it unless faced with decapitation, but Tav has really started to grow on him. The pleasant manner in which she carried herself, the ferocious way in which she fought, the unwavering loyalty to those she considered friends.

That was yet another novel concept, having friends.

 “Darling, I can’t help but notice that you didn’t choose anything for yourself.”

“I don’t need anything right now.”

That was a lie. Her armour breathed its last when they went up against the goblins to protect the Grove. She could definitely use a new pair of boots too.

“As sweet as you are for thinking of others before yourself, I would rather you not become a pincushion next time we are ambushed. Here,” he picked a set of armour at random, “take this.”

“And Shadowheart will have to do without, I suppose?” she raised an eyebrow.

“She’s a cleric. She can heal herself,” Astarion gave a nonchalant shrug. He didn’t care much about what happened to Shadowheart.

Tav laughed, making something warm and pleasant bloom in his chest. He hated how much he enjoyed hearing her laugh.

“Well, this armour is a bit too heavy for me anyway,” she put the armour back and added a couple of scrolls that Shadowheart could make use of. “Maybe I will pick something up next time we need to sell stuff.”

She was right. They did amass quite a collection of useless nick knacks when they looted the abandoned houses in the Blighted Village. And lugging all the bits and bobs that Tav insisted on taking with them was getting rather tedious. Not that he carried much personally. However, he imagined if Lae’zel caught onto him having the lightest load, the gith would personally make sure that his pack would be stuffed to capacity.

Except when they went to sell the items, she once again did not buy anything for herself. Astarion could not understand her ridiculous altruism! Not that he cared that much, but still. Tav dying would most definitely throw a wrench in his plans. Therefore, with that in mind only, he bought Tav new armour, bow and boots.

Strange. The first time he spent money in years, and it wasn’t even on buying something for himself!

The next day, Tav woke up to find that someone had been to her tent. And that mysterious someone left her gifts. Brows furrowing, she picked up a pair of boots. They were clearly enchanted and probably not something they could afford at the moment. And that begged the question, who would splurge so much and not even give it to her personally?

She admired the armour and ran her fingers over the leather. As she shifted it slightly sideways to have a better look at the clasps, something sparkled in a stray ray of light that got in through the slight opening in the tent flap.

Tav noticed the necklace perched on top of the pile.

“Misty Step,” she murmured, a small smile tugging on her lips as her fingers ghosted over the rest of the gifts.

Changing and making herself somewhat presentable, she walked out of her tent and towards Astarion’s, greeting Gale as he prepared their breakfast. To their delight, the group recently stumbled upon a cellar filled with boxes upon boxes of food. Gale was especially pleased at having the opportunity to prepare proper meals for a change rather than have two or three odd ingredients to work with.

When Tav opened the flap of Astarion’s tent and walked in, the elf was already up and apparently deeply engrossed in his book, not even bothering to look up to greet her. Tav waited a beat, but Astarion pointedly refused to acknowledge her. Which Tav knew he had to be doing on purpose, because there was no way that he couldn’t hear her breathing and the staccato of her heartbeat as she grew more nervous by the minute.

Crouching by him, she put her hand on top of the page.

“Darling, as much as I enjoy your presence in my tent, you are distracting me from my reading.”

“I see. Good book?”

“It is. Absolutely riveting.”

She decided not to comment on the fact that he had already read this book twice, as they didn’t come across any new reading material that was of interest to Astarion.

“Help me put this on?” she smiled and handed him the necklace, holding her hair up and leaving her neck exposed, making Astarion’s mouth water.

“Tsk, can’t manage without me, darling?” he teased, but put his book aside.

“I can. But I’d much rather you did it.”

Gently, he slid the jewellery in its place, letting his fingers linger on her skin a touch longer than necessary and making Tav sigh contently.

“Thank you,” she pecked his cheek. “Thank you for looking after me.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. But perhaps come nightfall,” he leaned closer and all but purred, “I could look after you in a-”

“Astarion,” Tav put her fingers on his lips, “thank you.”

“Oh, please! You thought it was me? Darling! Giving you a necklace? Out of all mundane, unimaginative things to gift!”

Astarion inwardly kicked himself. What was he thinking, trading her smile for a blunt comment like that? It wasn’t the way he usually operated. It was counterintuitive, it was stupid. He was supposed to be furthering her attraction to him, so what in the hells was he doing by telling her that the gifts came from another?

“Mmhh, of course it couldn’t have been you,” Tav agreed easily, laying a tender kiss on the underside of his jaw and then another just below his ear, “so sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“I -I argh,” he shuddered as blunt teeth nibbled on his earlobe, “apology accepted.”

“So… who do you propose I should thank then?” Tav breathed against his cheek and then looked him in the eyes.

“Excuse me?” Astarion frowned as she moved away.

“Well, if it wasn’t you that left the armour, the necklace-

“And boots!” he interjected quickly.

“Ah yes, thank you for reminding me,” she nodded, running her hands down his arms to take his cool hands into her own. “Who should I be thanking instead of you, hm?”

“I know! It was probably Shadowheart,” she said with an air of someone having an eureka moment.

“Shadowheart?!”

“No, it couldn’t have been her,” she mused, letting go of his hand to tap a finger on her lips as she pretended to think hard. “Shadowheart didn’t come with us to the vendor. Must be Wyll then, he did comment on my boots being worse for wear.”

“Wyll just spent half the journey flirting with Lae’zel!” Astarion spat with distaste, sounding rather like a scandalised virgin gossiping about a debutante with a questionable reputation.

“True, true. Well, that leaves Gale. Unless it was the only other person who came with me yesterday…”

Astarion swallowed and pouted but didn’t say anything.

“How silly of me to assume it was you. I’ll let you get back to your reading. Off I go to give Gale a proper thank you.”

Tav rose and let go of his hand, making Astarion panic a little. Like hells Gale would be the one getting recognition for the nice thing that he did!

Rising quickly, Astarion grabbed Tav’s waist. She squealed when he spun her round roughly, pressing her body to his.

“You are not going anywhere, you cheeky pup,” he whispered against her neck, his cool breath making Tav shiver involuntarily and grasp onto his shirt.

“And since you insist on thanking me, I will graciously accept your gratitude.”

He was a benevolent creature, after all. And since Tav was in the mood to shower him with affection, he supposed he could allow it.

“Thank you,” she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” his forehead, just under an errant curl that fell over his eyes as he tilted his head forward.

“Thank you,” she pressed her lips to his, making Astarion groan as he deepened the kiss, one hand steadying Tav whilst the other travelled lower. He nibbled on her swollen, pouty lower lip, enjoying the delicious mewling sound she made and then-

“Breakfast is ready!” Gale’s voice rang jarringly loud from somewhere outside the tent, startling Tav. She withdrew with a sigh, looking more than a little disappointed at having to leave. Ever the dutiful leader, ready to start her day and selflessly brush aside her own wants and needs.

Astarion was having none of that.

“Where do you think you are going, hm?”

“Um, well..” Tav began, but found herself to be quite mesmerised with the heated, predatory look he was giving her.

“I haven’t had my breakfast yet, and I am feeling simply ravenous.”

He pulled the collar of her shirt aside, admiring the way the necklace rested against her skin and then his eyes travelled lower down still as Astarion mused about whether he was being too traditional by drinking from her neck when there were such tantalising, mouthwatering choices to be made.

“May I?” he murmured, trailing his nose against her collarbone, then lower and lower still, brushing against the necklace that rose and fell with her breaths. Astarion felt Tav’s fingers gently thread through his curls, skimming along his ears in a way that had him suppressing a moan.

“Yes.”

She always said yes. And recently rather than thinking her a fool for it, Astarion felt… something else. He couldn’t explain what it was that he felt even if he tried. But Tav was becoming more than a means to an end. More than a target. More than a night that was better to forget.

Weeks later, he would find that she was the light that illuminated the darkest recesses of his mind and soul. The warmth that welcomed and comforted him, preventing him from retreating into himself when he was hit with the horror of what he had done in his years of slavery. She would come to be the only person that he truly cared about. But he didn’t know that yet.

As he drank, Astarion decided that perhaps he would allow himself to enjoy whatever this was. Not overthink it. For now, he would let himself linger on the precipice of making the discovery of what exactly Tav was to him without worrying of what would happen once he fell.

For now, he would let himself enjoy not having to worry about what tomorrow would bring. For now, she would be his most welcome distraction.

Tag list: @ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

@anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck

[bananastarion]

The Baldur's Gate 3 companions if they were forced to work boring modern day retail jobs, for some reason

Karlach would be out there doing her best, always there to reach the shelves that are too high for everyone else and doing all the heavy lifting. She gets in trouble a lot for accidentally dropping f-bombs within earshot of customers. She's the one you call over if a customer is giving you a hard time- she has no issue with telling them off and checking in to make sure you're okay. She gets a kick out of setting off all those tacky singing and dancing stuffed animals they put out on holidays, making your ears bleed. She's a bull in a china shop, and more than occasionally you'll hear a loud crash because Karlach accidentally knocked over a display again. She's also the reason the fire alarms keep going off. But despite all of that, she's by far the most fun to work with.

Nobody in their right mind would hire Lae'zel for a customer service position- but she makes a damn effective security guard. Maybe a little too effective- most of the time she is intimidating enough that all she has to do is shoot them a threatening look, and they behave. Sometimes she goes a bit overboard, though- like that time she made a guy bow down before her and beg for mercy, all because he stole a snickers bar. He swears he has no idea how it even got in his pocket!

Astarion is the coworker from hell. He doesn't actually do any work. When he's not taking unauthorized breaks, he's sneaking around to avoid helping customers. If a customer is unlucky enough to catch him, he'll just give them a snide remark or send them to Gale. Since he was hired, there has been a very suspicious inventory shrinkage. He distracts the cashiers from doing their work and they have formed a mean girl clique that gossips about everyone else. He'll also occasionally slip a product in a customer's pocket and report to Lae'zel he saw them shoplifting, then sit back and enjoy the show. The only reason he hasn't been fired is because he flirts with your middle aged divorced boss, who is putty in his hands.

Wyll's dad is a well to-do politician, but he insisted Wyll get a blue collar job so he can better understand the merit of hard work and see how the common man lives. And Wyll does an exceptional job- he offers the best customer service and has the charisma to sell anyone anything. Of course, he is honorable enough that he'd never sell a customer an inferior or overpriced product. He knows the returning customers by name and they ask for him specifically. He's also a hit with the kids. Yet it's Astarion who keeps getting employee of the month- what is that about?? If anyone ever tries to rob the place, Wyll will likely be the one saving the day- if Lae'zel doesn't disembowel them first.

Gale is that coworkers who doesn't understand boundaries. He'll be venting to you about his ex gf and asking for advice about whether it's too soon to text her again while you're just trying to mop the floor. You'll be taking care of a huge line at the cash register and he decides that's the time to show you all the cat pictures on his phone. To be fair- his cat is really cute. He complains a lot about how he graduated from an elite school and did exceptionally well academically, yet he's stuck working this shitty job- damn this economy! He's eager to help customers, but has a habit of monologuing about all the trivia he happens to know about whatever they're buying. One time, you walked in on him gnawing on a pair of men's boots in the break room, and neither of you ever spoke of it again.

Shadowheart would be the most "normal" employee of the bunch- her customer service is adequate- courteous and professional, but with minimal small talk. "Yes, that'll be in aisle 3. Have a nice day." She often gets out of any stocking jobs she doesn't feel like doing by complaining that her hand hurts- it seems to only conveniently go off when you ask her to lift a few boxes. You try to make small talk with her in the break room, and it gets awkward because you just interrupted her before lunch prayers. And her during lunch prayers. And her after lunch prayers. Maybe take the hint already, and stop trying to get to know her.

Bonus: Withers is the store greeter. In the fall, sometimes people mistake him for a Halloween decoration...

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 11

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: After waiting a day, Astarion finally gets a response from Cas.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Tags: Sexual content, kissing, safe word discussion, confessions, mild dirty talk.

A full day passed and Astarion still hadn’t gotten an answer from Cas. Their conversation had left him on edge. It was like he had an open wound in his chest, and Cas was the only person with the means to heal it. Yet she decided to make him wait, his heart beating out in the open. Exposed. Vulnerable.

He tried to distract himself with whatever he could think of: fletching arrows, reading that changeling detective novel, fixing a small tear in his armor. He even tried striking up a conversation with Gale of all people. Nothing seemed to make time go by faster or take his mind off of his little wood elf.

It was maddening.

So when he learned that the tieflings at the Grove wanted to throw a little celebration at the campsite, he initially welcomed the idea. It was something to occupy his time. It was also a chance to show Cas that he could behave himself in a setting where it would be completely acceptable to flirt and mingle. He was determined to be on his absolute best behavior.

But by the time the party rolled around, Astarion’s determination gave way to frustration. For more reasons than one.

First, the tieflings thought he was some sort of hero. For what? Stabbing a hobgoblin and a couple of his cronies in the dead of night? Some people would call that being a serial killer, but what did he know? The tieflings thought that he helped save them. If he did, it was completely unintentional. A mere side-effect of their mission to find a cure for the tadpole situation. Nothing more.

Second, Cas was busy socializing with everyone but him. She flitted from one conversation to the next like a hummingbird, staying just long enough to say a few words before moving on. And their companions took notice. Shadowheart even had the audacity to tease him about it. Then, as if to rub it in his face, she asked Cas to have a drink with her then the two women proceeded to chat for at least ten minutes.

Third, his wine tasted like vinegar. It was the least of his problems, but given everything else going on, it irritated him more than it should have. Still, he drank it anyway.

The party itself was fine. Not bad, but not terribly good. There was music, dancing, and plenty of drinks to go around. But there were also children present, which meant that the levels of debauchery Astarion was accustomed to at parties was practically eliminated.

Not a single person got so drunk that they took off their clothes. Or tried doing something dangerous and stupid. Or started a fist fight. Or an orgy. It was so… boring.

Astarion was never a wallflower at social events, but he couldn’t bring himself to mingle with this particular crowd. They all wanted to thank him, which would have been hilarious if it didn’t make him so uncomfortable. He wasn’t a hero, and the tieflings were idiots for thinking so. However, he had the good manners not to say anything to their faces. After all, they did bring free booze, even if it was shit.

Regardless, he had used the party as an excuse to dress up a bit. Not much, since he didn’t have his usual wardrobe on hand, but nice enough. He wore the black linen shirt that showed off a bit of his chest just because he knew Cas liked it and paired it with well-tailored trousers that tucked into his leather boots. A simple, monochromatic look that he knew looked quite striking with his complexion.

A few interested pairs of eyes had wandered his way and confirmed what he already knew. But he ignored them. It was only a few weeks ago that he would have taken those lingering glances as an invitation. After what happened with the drow, he didn’t show any interest in return. The truth was he dressed up for Cas, hoping to entice her into speaking with him, but it seemed his efforts were in vain.

Restless energy pulsed through him. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and drank deeply from his bottle of wine, but even the alcohol didn’t seem to relieve his growing tension. That tension only grew when he saw Cas laughing at something Halsin had said. And again she left to talk with Wyll in private for a moment. Astarion ground his teeth together so hard it was a miracle he didn’t snap a fang. He forced himself to look away for his own sanity, fuming.

Why the hells should he just wait around for Cas to come talk to him? Sure, he could have gone and talked to her himself, but he was stubborn. Stubborn and not willing to roll on his back and bare his belly for her again. No. If she wanted to talk to him, she would have to be the one to initiate conversation. He was tired of feeling like she held his heart in her hand, and he was far too proud to slink after her and beg for it back.

Unwilling to endure the party any longer, Astarion took his one last sip of his wine and dumped the rest into a bush. That could be his heroic deed: ridding the world of that swill they called wine. Now that was worthy of celebration.

He needed to do something other than waiting for Cas. Something to distract himself before his irritation festered and he did something stupid again.

Maybe he could hunt? It would get him away from the party and burn off some of the energy that was coiling inside him like a tight metal spring. Plus killing something usually made him feel better. It didn’t really matter that he hunted earlier in the day. Perhaps he could find something that would put up a bit of a fight. He could use the release.

As he turned to his tent so he could get changed into something more hunting appropriate, he stopped short. Only a few feet away, Cas watched him with those deep brown eyes. Curious and hesitant, but there was a familiar warmth behind them that made his undead heart quicken.

She hadn’t even dressed up for the party. Just a simple, white, sleeveless top paired the leather leggings and boots she typically wore with her armor. Her hair was down and a little messy from running around the party all night. Still, he drank in the sight of her as though she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

He hated how his body responded to her at that moment. The butterflies in his stomach had no business being there, but his mind couldn’t convince them to leave.

“Hey,” Cas said, her brow furrowed and a faint frown appeared on that mouth he so still so stupidly wanted to kiss. “Are you leaving?”

Yes, because you ignored me for the last hour and I’m tired of waiting around like a dog, he wanted to say. Even though she had finally come to talk to him, it was a minute too late. He was done being patient and done with not knowing where they stood.

Astarion huffed. “I’m bored, darling,” he said, his tone a mixture of exasperation and annoyance. A couple of tiefling children dancing with their parents caught his eye and Cas followed his gaze. “This really isn’t my sort of thing. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find something else to occupy my time. I need to hunt anyway.”

“Wait.” Cas’s fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist and his body electrified at that small touch.

Goosebumps crawled up his arm when he saw the look on her face. Her eyes were wide, pleading, but there was something else. Something he couldn’t quite place.

He glanced at where her fingers touched his skin but made no move to pull away. He watched her and said nothing. Waiting. Again.

Cas drew her lower lip between her teeth. “I—” A sharp breath cut between them as she straightened. “I wanted to talk to you. About you and me.”

“I’m listening,” he replied, keeping his voice flat to hide the hope that threatened to blossom in his chest. Just because she was ready to talk didn’t mean he was going to get the answer he wanted to hear.

In fact, he was almost certain that he wouldn’t like whatever she was about to say. His night was already going terribly, so what was one more disappointment?

Her fingers slipped from his wrist, and he immediately mourned the loss despite himself. The urge to reach out and touch her was strong, almost overpowering, but he resisted. She wasn’t his to touch anymore.

“Let’s…” She looked down at her boots. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” she said and cocked her chin toward the edge of the woods.

Astarion nodded and followed her lead, but his stomach twisted with apprehension. Truth be told, he had no idea which way the conversation was going to go, but he was already steeling himself for the worst. Just because she wanted to talk didn’t mean that she forgave him. It didn’t mean that she still wanted him the way she did before. There was a good chance that she would sever whatever romantic connection they had, and he couldn’t really blame her if she did. If the roles were reversed, he knew exactly what he would do.

But Cas had a much softer heart than he did.

They stopped at the border of the campsite, where the chatter from the party barely reached his ears and the only light came from the glow of the moon. It was quiet enough that he could hear crickets over the distant sounds of lutes, flutes, and drums.

Yet, Cas didn’t say anything for several seconds.

She picked at her short fingernails and rocked on her heels. “Thank you for giving me some time to think,” she started, her voice a little softer than normal. Almost like she didn’t trust it. “I needed a day to go over what you said. And to figure out how I felt.”

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice, darling,” he said, folding his arms across his chest as though he could shield his heart.

A sheepish laugh passed her lips as she continued not to look at him. “Still….”

Leaves rustled in the wind, filling the lingering silence between them. Moments passed and Cas opened her mouth once or twice to say something before ultimately changing her mind. The longer the pause went on, the further his heart sank.

She was ending it. Whatever it was that was between them, their nascent relationship; she wanted it to be over. It was the only reasonable explanation for her reticence. He swallowed the lump in his throat and his fingers dug into his shirtsleeves.

It was over. He laid his heart out on the line for nothing.

“Out with it,” Astarion bit, his impatience boiling over into anger.

Tell him he wasn’t worth the trouble. That he was nothing more than a quick fuck to distract her from the mess they were in. That nothing he said or did mattered to her. He needed her to remind him that the world was a cruel place. That anything that made him happy was bound to go up in flames. No matter how he tried to stop the fire, it would always destroy him. Bit by bit.

Hope was a dangerous thing, and Cas had given him hope. Made him think that, even for a moment, she wanted him for him. She made him believe he was worth something to her.

He was such an idiot.

Dread dripped down his spine and he mentally tried to steel himself. Cas was just like anyone else he had seduced. Just a bit of fun. Nothing serious. Certainly no one worth fretting over.

Astarion repeated the words like a mantra in his mind, trying to convince himself of it. Cas meant nothing to him, so she couldn’t hurt him. It was just flirtation and fun. Like always.

Cas gazed up at him with those deep brown eyes and sucked in a lungful of air. “I still want you.”

The words came out like it was a secret she had been trying to keep inside. A mere breath. A whisper.

And he couldn’t believe it.

For a second, he wasn’t even sure he heard her correctly. She… she still wanted him? Or did she say she didn’t want him? The more he thought about it, the less sure he was of what she actually said. The pessimist, vitriolic, part of his brain told him that he definitely misheard her. The way she had been acting didn’t make sense otherwise. Why would she have stayed away from him if she still wanted him?

He blinked at her. “What?”

“I still want you.” She wrung her hands together and averted her gaze. “I was blindsided by what happened the other day. I thought you just didn’t care, but after our talk yesterday…. If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t have bothered.

“I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I like you. A lot. Despite what happened. You’re clever and funny and you’re one of my favorite people to talk to. Not to mention extremely handsome, but you already knew that. I’m rambling. Anyway, if you’re still interested I would really like to continue—”

The impulse was too strong to resist. It was like the tightly wound coil deep inside him had suddenly snapped, and he couldn’t wait a second longer. Astarion clutched the back of her head and his lips crashed against hers in a rough, soul-searing, all-encompassing kiss. He wanted her too much for anything else to matter. Too much to care about whatever else she was going to say. She had said all she needed to.

A faint whimper escaped the back of her throat as her body sank against his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, anchoring herself to him. The delicate stroke of her tongue against his sent a shock of pleasure through him and a groan, almost like a growl, rumbled in his chest.

He cupped the curve of her ass and pulled her tightly against him, pressing his rapidly hardening length against her stomach. Her fingers slid into his hair as lips broke from hers, moving down to her corner of her jaw to her throat. The frantic throb of her pulse beneath his lips made his fangs ache. He wanted to bite her. To claim her again. To mark her so the whole world knew who she belonged to.

The need nearly overwhelmed him for a moment as his fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her head back until her throat was completely bared to him. Cas’s breath hitched when his teeth closed gently against the tender flesh of her neck. Just a nip. Not hard enough to pierce the skin, no matter how desperately he craved it. He wouldn’t bite her without permission.

Because he wanted her. Damn it to the Hells, he wanted her. Blood, body, and soul.

At that moment, everything he had been worried about had vanished. It was just him and her. Nothing else seemed to matter when she was in his arms, and he would take every second of peace he could get.

The tip of his tongue soothed over the faint mark he left on her throat, the salt of her skin as exquisite as fine wine. “Darling, I want to bite you,” he said into the cove of her neck as his hips rocked against hers once, trying to relieve the ache he felt for her. “I miss seeing my mark on your neck.”

“Maybe I’ll let you make another,” Cas replied a little breathlessly. “You said you needed to hunt tonight anyways. Why not hunt me?”

Astarion loosened his grip in her hair, smoothing his fingers over her scalp down to her nape. “Hunt you?” he asked as he pressed a lingering kiss against a pulse point just below her jaw.

“Yeah,” she said, almost a little shyly. Like she couldn’t quite believe what she was asking for. “Not for real, obviously. But like a game. I’ll pack up some things and wander off into the woods. All alone. Far away from camp. Then you’ll come find me.”

The thought of stalking her, catching her, and overpowering her appealed to him on the most primal level. Excitement swelled in his chest. In all his years, he had never been asked to hunt someone before. At least, not like this. Not by someone who knew what he was and what he was capable of.

Vampires were hunters by nature. They had to be. Most people would never subject themselves to a vampire's bite willingly, regardless of the risk of being turned. And most vampires would never let their victims live. Especially the ones they chased down or seduced with the sole purpose of feeding. It was simply a risk most vampires couldn’t afford to take. Loose ends and all of that. The fact that Cas was asking this of him….

His hand lowered on her backside, giving the firm flesh a little squeeze. “You trust me to not go too far?”

A small gasp passed her lips when his fingers curved around high on her inner thigh. “Of course I do,” she said. “You didn’t go too far before.”

Before Cas had held a knife to his throat as he bit her. Before was his very first time drinking the blood of a thinking creature. Before he hadn’t cared enough about her to truly worry about losing control. But none of that seemed worth mentioning at that moment.

For her to place her trust in him like this…. He didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to unpack the feelings that it stirred up deep in his core. It wasn’t the right time, and he was far from ready.

Instead, he kissed her before she could say anything else that made him feel things he wasn’t ready to feel. His tongue searched the inside her mouth with delicate strokes, the kind meant to keep her wanting more. When he drew a soft, pleading moan from the back of her throat he pulled away, smiling as her mouth tried to follow his.

Her pupils were blown wide as he stared into her eyes, searching. Trying to find even the slightest bit of hesitation. But he found nothing but desire and longing.

He held her chin and dragged his thumb over the center of her lower lip. “Will you run from me when I find you?”

Cas arched into him, putting delicious pressure on his cock and he stifled a groan. It was like every contour of her body perfectly reconciled with his. Like she was made to fit against him. “Only if you don’t stop me.”

Already, he was thinking of ways he could do that. How he could hold her body against his, how he could pin her down, maybe even tie her up. The yellow ribbon she had used to wrap up his portrait came to mind. How pretty that would look wrapped around her wrists. The possibilities were endless, and he wanted to explore each and every one. Maybe not that night, but eventually.

His lips brushed against her ear, sending goosebumps down her arms despite the warm night air. “And what happens when I catch you?” he whispered against her heated skin. “Are you going to fight me, darling?”

“Just a little.” Her breath caught when he kissed the side of her throat, working his way down the juncture of her neck and collarbone. “Not hard enough to hurt you. Besides, I don’t think I’ll want to fight you for very long anyway.”

“And why’s that?” Astarion touched his tongue to her pulse, smiling at the shiver it sent down her spine.

The soft gust of her breath feathered against his ear. “Because I think I’ll like getting caught by you.”

He wanted to say he had already caught her. After all, she was in his arms, willing and wanting. Despite everything. Despite his own foolishness and insecurities. Despite how he had tried so hard to resist her. Despite how he knew that what they had couldn’t last. The gods and the universe would never let him keep her.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“So I’ll catch you and subdue you,” he said as he continued trailing kissing along her neck. “What will I get for all my hard work?”

“What would you want?”

A shudder went through her when he licked a stripe from her collarbone to the corner of her jaw. “I’m picturing you on your hands and knees, darling,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear. “Begging for my cock. But the moment I give it to you is the moment I sink my fangs into your pretty little neck. Mixing pleasure with pain. How does that sound?”

Cas made a pleased humming sound as she pressed herself into him ever so slightly like she was trying to feel what he had promised. “I think we should ditch the party.”

Astarion lifted his head and stared into her eyes again. With a little burst of tenderness that seemed to come out of nowhere, he brushed a loose lock of her silky hair behind her ear. She already had a darkened spot on her neck from where he nipped her, but it would fade quickly.

And he wanted to make a few marks that would last for days.

Anticipation glimmered in her dark eyes, but it was the smile on her lips that nearly had him undone. It had only been a few seconds, but he already missed the sensual heat of her mouth against his.

His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, affectionate. Trusting.

“Before we do this,” he said, “how do you want to let me know if I am too rough or if I go too far? Because I won’t be nearly as restrained as I was last time.”

“Maybe a safeword?”

“Probably a good idea with these sorts of games.” He held her chin between his thumb and index finger. “I’ll let you pick it since it’ll be the last decision you make with me this evening.”

Cas bit her lower lip, but a smile pulled at the corners anyways. It was... adorable. He wasn’t sure the last time he found someone cute in a non-condescending way. It was like she was so excited to be with him, she could hardly contain it.

The way she looked up at him through her lashes lit a spark low in his stomach. There was something more than lust and anticipation in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite place, but it made him want to smile back at her.

She placed her hands on his chest, the heat of her palms like a brand through his thin shirt. Gently, she pushed herself away. “Merlot,” she said as she took a few steps backward with a bright grin on her face.

“Merlot,” he repeated back to her.

Cas took another step backwards in the direction of the party. “Give me an hour to say goodnight to people and get ready.”

“I’m not waiting an hour, darling.”

“Forty-five minutes?”

“Ten.”

“Thirty.”

“Twenty,” he said. “Any longer and you’ll be getting a spanking when I catch you.”

Cas covered her mouth with one hand and gasped in mock offense. “Oh no. I wouldn’t want that.”

Well with that tone, he definitely had to spank her now.

“Nineteen,” he said.

She flashed him one more smile before she turned around and jogged back to camp. He watched her disappear into her tent before he started back himself. The moment she left camp, the hunt would be on.

And he could hardly wait.

---

Beginning

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

[cidnangarlond]

astarion scrutinizing gale's incredibly nice boots when his robes kick up as he casts a spell, and during combat doing some absolutely dramatic nonsense jumping out to shoot the crossbow while giving gale a wink as doves fly out from the trees behind them and later distracting karlach with a cool yo-yo from tav's pack as he pockets other stuff. gale telling elminster he had everything under control before he showed up and later having a "*panicking* right! I DID study these creatures thoroughly and know everything!" moment when elminster questions him. lae'zel telling elminster to address him by his full title. astarion being like oh pick me when shadowheart casts bless but shadowheart being like "you're a VAMPIRE I don't think you and holy water MIX very well". karlach doing cracked as hell damage and getting scratch out of the way. wyll going in for melee and almost dying (which is accurate to what happens when I use him in combat unfortunately). incredible stuff here

the video of the bg3 cast playing dnd is so so funny why is everyone so perfectly cast

[anthro-bean]

I gotchu fam.

The modern AU with Tavarti. Feel like going in depth with that?

You spoil me

Tavarti is an investigative journalist/activist/ general pain-in-the-ass. She drives a barely functional motorcycle (paladin mount lol), lives in a shitty studio apartment, and meets with her DnD group on Fridays. She wears a ratty old bomber jacket with sunflower patches, jeans, t-shirts, and a pair of old biker boots. Has been arrested multiple times. Will argue with the entire group over rp choices because she's a paladin guys come on. She joined the group as a favor to an old friend (The Narrator) who wanted to DM a special campaign she's been working on.

She shows up at DMs place for the first night where she introduces her to the rest of the group:

Gale, a local professor at a research university who recently went on sabbatical after a relationship with his department got messy. Totally has leather patches on his blazer sleeves . Lives alone with his cat in a nice apartment filled with books. Met the DM at a coffee house poetry night and is joining the DnD group because he's going through a lot rn and needs the distraction. A total rules lawyer and argues with the DM.

Lae'zel, who recently graduated from the police academy. Comes from a family of cops, her mom is the chief. Wears leather jackets with lots of spikes and scary af rings. Wants a red motorcycle. Is mean to people on the internet. Loves combat and hates the RPing. Joined the group as a personal favor to the DM who she met at a court ordered anger management seminar.

Wyll, a cut-off rich kid who is struggling to turn his life around and get away from his toxic ex. Works with kids at the community center and volunteers a lot. Likes Marvel movies. Met the DM at the community center and hit them up after they posted something about starting a new campaign on social media. He thought it'd be fun and he really needed a new social circle. Lives to RP, terrible at combat. Rolls either 1s or 20s.

Astarion got into an abusive relationship with a powerful partner at the law firm he worked at. He's finally gotten out of the situation and has been couch surfing while he looks for a new place/job. Has an OnlyFans (which he uses to pay the bills atm). Ends up crashing at Tavarti's place a lot because she has a hard time saying no (and has the easiest to break into apartment). Met the DM through "work" (onlyfans or court? Who knows) and ended up joining the DnD group because he was already sleeping on her couch at the time so why not. Plays a pain-in-the-ass, "it's what my character would do" rogue. Steals everything. Constantly handing notes to the DM.

Shadowheart does... something. No one is sure what exactly it is but they all assume it's illegal. Cute goth gf. Doesn't use social media where you can't be anonymous or self destructing like snapchat. Deletes her reddit account every few months. Uses burner phones and no one has her number. Cyberstalks the entire group. Met DM at some underground concert thing. Will heal you for +1 because that's all you deserve and then solos the rest of combat after you all wipe. She plays all the time and wanted to find a new group.

[dragonswithjetpacks]

Campfire Conversations

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Astarion is bored at camp. And his target for the night... is Ferelith. Through persistence and bribery, she indulges him in casual conversation.

Read here on Ao3.

Despite the three bedrolls she had placed next to the fire, Ferelith still found it difficult to gain any comfort. She rolled up one side, placed her pillows against, and even placed a rock behind them to prop them well enough to use as a backing. She sat upright, flipping through her book, sketching in magic symbols and making small notes. At her side was another set of smaller books, one she would thumb through on occasion to double check her accuracy. All was quiet other than the whispers from the fire, which was precisely what she had asked for. But then again, there was always one who was never too keen to listen to what she wanted.

"What are you doing?" he announced his presence, bending over her shoulder as he peered into her book.

Ferelith blinked disapprovingly, giving him a side glance from the corner of her eye.

"Ah, yes, you're quite right," he sighed. "I don't care... I'm bored."

Again, she said nothing, but he took her silence as an invitation. He stepped over the log onto her blanket, with his boots still on, making her cringe as the dirt made a subtle foot print. He sat next to her, propping himself on one of her pillows. It appeared it was not good enough. And he removed it, fluffing it to perfection before placing it behind him once more.

"That was accident," he winced at the wrinkled and dirtied mess he left in his wake.

Kicking his feet to the side, he straightened his corner and brushed the dirt off lightly. It mattered little, as she had already to planned to wash it the moment he placed his boots onto her finely stitched threads. Her annoyance was made quite clear with a loud sigh, her book slowly lowering to her lap.

"I suppose I'm the one lucky enough to oblige you tonight," her face was calm but he could feel the irritation burning into him. "What would you ask of me?"

"You could light someone on fire," he shrugged with his bottom lip sticking out.

Her eyes shifted upward in thought of the idea. "I could. But I'm afraid I'm not so amused by your form of entertainment."

"You would be if you'd let me show you," he raised a brow.

Much to his disappointment, the only reply she gave was yet another one of her famous blank stares. He wondered where she went sometimes when she looked at him like that. Any normal person would have thoughts filled with disgust, though that was only humorous and much to his liking. But Ferelith was different than most. The look was usually empty. It was only until recently he noticed her eyes would often widen and her lip would curl upward at one corner. At least he knew he got some kind of rise from her.

"Where did you get those books?" he asked when he noticed he was losing her attention.

Ferelith was not easily distracted. When she was focused, there was nothing that could tear her eyes away. He had discovered this, unfortunately, through a series of trial and error in an attempt to know her true nature. Most things ended in eye rolls, rarely out of annoyance, but mostly with sarcasm. There were also multiple occasions where he was completely ignored. Which he found rude, but reasonable. It was actually a bit of a surprise she was speaking to him, now.

"A bookshop," she replied, tilting the book back up.

"Not an ordinary bookshop."

Her eyes flicked in his direction.

"Let's see," he picked a few of them up, many no bigger than a pocket book. "Arcane, Illusion, Mystic Runes... my, my... these look handwritten for personal use."

"Put those back where you found them, please," she commanded without so much as a glance.

"These look like spell books," he began to flip through the pages of one. "If I had to guess, anyway. I'm usually decent at guessing, though."

"You know if you look through the grimoire of another without permission, you'll gain the hex of that grimoire."

He suddenly dropped all three. Ferelith smiled wildly, her eyes still scanning the runes in her larger book. He hadn't noticed before, but while she was writing with one hand, the other held a book in place, often darting to another to scour through it's pages. It was like they had to separate minds of their own. The hand writing or sketching was moving very fast, but her penmanship was impeccable. He leaned over - careful not to disturb her- and saw she was copying whatever she was scanning from the other, smaller books.

"These are your grimoires?"

"No," she replied.

"So how is it you are able to look at them?"

"I have permission."

"I don't understand how someone so straightforward can have so much mystery about them," he shrugged. "It's somehow both annoying and attractive."

"That's precisely the impression I aim for," she smiled again, smaller and sweeter this time.

The sigh that came from him was intentionally loud enough for Ferelith to look up from her work. She observed her companion pull himself onto his feet, placing his hands on his hips next to her bedrolls. He looked about the camp when suddenly, he had a reasonably good idea. She had hoped his walking away would mean he had given up. On the contrary, however, she watched him walk over to Gale's things and begin to rummage through them. Suddenly, Ferelith was intrigued with the rogue. More than likely, she was interested to see if he got caught. Unfortunately, he did not. Instead, he came waltzing back across the camp with a rather large pep to his step, a large bottle in one hand and a goblet in the other.

Careful not to defile her blankets a second time, he seated himself next to her, closer than before. He fought with the cork inside the bottle for a moment, but sent it sailing into the air with a loud pop with the edge of his knife. He poured himself a glass, brought it to his nose, and inhaled it deeply followed by a satisfying exhale. He looked to Ferelith, who had regretfully not been able to look away. He had to admit, he won half the battle. But as he held up the wine as an offering, he felt there was more of a fight to be had. Ferelith rolled her eyes. Reached over to a flat stone next to her blankets.  And grabbed her empty goblet. She reluctantly held it out as he poured the contents into her cup. There was no hesitance as she brought it to her lips, her eyes dropping back down into the book without any further acknowledgement to Astarion.

"I don't even get a thank you," he complained.

"Thank you," she said before looking into the goblet a second time. "This is actually... quite nice."

"I hear the words, but I don't really feel the gratitude."

Ferelith looked up, finally giving him the contact he craved. There was always something unsettling he found looking into her eyes. They were yellow. But not like fire or the sun... no. Her eyes were pale. Like that of a once green plant craving attention; something to hydrate it, nutrients from the soil, or even just love.

"Fine," she said, tapping the ink to make sure it was dry before snapping the book shut. "I will indulge you."

"Words I've been waiting for all night," he shook his head and leaned forward.

Ferelith sat her work beside her, pulling her knees up and turning to her side. Her robe was of black lace and didn't do anything to add to comfort or practicality. But if there was one thing the traveling band of misfits learned about the warlock, it was that she wasn't always about the practical use of an item. She was very fond of beautiful things. And as she considered Astarion, she was inclined to admit the she was fond of his beauty as well. He knew this, using it to his advantage and tempted her at every chance he received. Ferelith was fully aware of the predicament she had somehow placed herself into. Which gave her more reason to ignore him. And as obvious as she made it, that did not prevent him from trying. Relentlessly.

"Tell me about the books," he said, propping his arm onto the rock they were leaning on.

"They were the last of a collection I was working on in the city."

"Anything interesting?"

"Just old spells and runes. Nothing anyone uses anymore. I've been transcribing them. They're spell books of old witches: long forgotten, tossed aside, half rotten old books."

"Witches you say?" he recoiled.

"Oh, yes. I believe there are a few useful things in here for banishments of the undead. If you're interested."

"Gods, no," he laughed, taking a sip of his wine. "But tell me more."

"I have one necromancy tome," she rolled over onto her knees. "And it's interesting. Not what I'm looking for, but interesting," she began to fan out her collection on the blankets.

Astarion leaned forward to examine them further.

"My job at the bookshop was to take these old grimoires and write them down into the bigger blank tomes. The ones that I found useful, I kept for myself. This is what is left of my findings. And the remains of my last project."

"What did you mean by 'what you were looking for'? Is there a certain spell you're seeking?"

"Not necessarily a spell. Just a translation."

"Have you had any luck?"

"A few words here and there."

"May I see the book you're translating?"

"Absolutely not," her eyes felt as cold as her reply.

"Ah, I see I'm reaching my limit for the night," he said with a tone of disappointment.

Astarion had grown accustomed to his interactions with his warlock companion being cut short. Rather it was her own doing or the work of another, he found their conversations always disrupted. It was a shame, truly, as he assumed Ferelith was the type to hold secrets. Even some that did not belong to her. The woman had been alive for quite sometime, though not nearly as long as he had. But he imagine there was something worth telling within the few lifetimes she had lived.

"Not necessarily," she replied lightheartedly. "After all, you've found this lovely bottle of wine."

"Humoring me for the sake of the wine, then?" a brow went up in confidence.

"I doubt I'd humor you for little else," her smirk was mocking his excitement.

"Remind to thank Gale in the morning, then," his mood went undisturbed. "I'd like to know how it is you intend to humor me now that books are off the table."

"Is that all you think I talk about?"

"I don't know," he shook his head, knowing she took the bait. "I've never heard you have a full conversation. With anyone."

"I converse very well, thank you," she took a sip of her wine. "I've just been lacking good company."

"You wound me," he lowered his gaze, but the tone was of sarcasm and he watched the corner of Ferelith's mouth turn upward.

Success.

"What is it you wish to discuss?"

"Discuss? I've no taste for lectures, my darling. I require something a bit more refined, something provocative. Tell me something interesting."

"Something interesting?" she appeared to be offended, her voice raising in pitch. "Well for one, when you strike a conversation with a person of interest, it's usually polite not to demand it from them."

"Very well," he rolled his eyes. "Tell me something interesting, please. I know you've got something just waiting to be told."

"If you're looking for exciting tales, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong colleague."

"No? Nothing, say, of your youth?"

"I assure my you, my early years are beyond dull."

"Surely not," he tilted his head down. "You have nothing? Dangerous spells? A jilted lover? A need for vengeance? Everyone has a decent vengeance story."

This time Ferelith laughed, tilting her head to the side away from him. But the sight of the smile caused him to straighten where he sat, leaning forward to see it fully. She rose a hand a to cover her mouth, but it was not enough for him to go without noticing... she was embarrassed.

"No vengeance here, I'm afraid," she looked back to him, her eyes meeting his. "But I suppose if you're interested in a horrible love story, I could tell you of my stay in Neverwinter..."

"Horrible as in tragic... or horrible as in just bad."

"Both," she nodded a finger to him.

"Even better!" he seemed overjoyed.

"Fine, fine. But I'll need a refill," she said passing her goblet to him.

Like the gentleman he was, he poured it for her. A bit too close to the edge, but he was eager for her to start the story to notice. She took a long drink, letting the contents give her the courage she needed. This was a bit of a defeat for her, but she was willing to let it go for the sake of his amusement. It was something to catch her attention, but to make her laugh was a feat of it's own. There was a sliver of a thought that perhaps she had misjudged him.

"This story is so humiliating. I can't believe I'm telling you," she shifted in her seat.

"Get on with it, then," he urged her to continue.

"Mind you, I had never been to a city before. Not even close to one. And I had just gotten a taste of what it felt like to wield magic. I found myself in the streets of Neverwinter in search for more knowledge. But I had no idea how to survive. There were so many others like me, just a crowd of beggers looking for work."

"Yes, I am aware. There are plenty of people swimming the streets looking for a better life in the city. A plague on society. Honestly."

"Indeed," Ferelith sighed, recalling the annoyance of the people who tormented her for those years of her life. "I offered my services. But found little coin in it. No one took my work seriously and no one was willing to give me the chance. I found myself resorting to other means of earning an income. Means that required a certain charisma."

"The vagueness of your statements is dramatic, but do go on."

"I acted as a smuggler," the bluntness returned. "It gave me good coin and the jobs I was hired to perform often involved a change of wardrobe. I was no good with the actual act of stealing or sneaking. A sleight of hand on occasion, but never anything that tactful. I was only a cover for whatever it was that I was charged with moving. It eventually earned me enough to rent a loft where I proceeded with my studies and transcribing work."

"Just a moment," he held out a hand to pause her. "The coin from working jobs like that... I don't believe that's enough for what had acquired."

"You are aware there are other ways of obtaining what is needed," the complacency in her tone was met with a guiltless stare. "Seduction."

"I'm starting to believe this woman you speak of is no longer with us," he teased with an exaggerated smile. "This talk of charisma and seduction, I've yet to see it."

"It's not for you to see," the wrinkle of frustration set on her brow and she turned her head, taking another long drink of wine. "I was young. And equally ignorant."

A long pause fell across Ferelith as she looked down into her cup. She could feel the affects and wished it would make the rest of the story a bit easier to tell. It was only a reminder of her failures. She wondered why she chose this to tell of all things. A jilted lover was not worth what she lost. With a deep breath holding back her hesitancy, she pressed on.

"There was a man who requested my services. He was a young human noble from a prosperous family of wizards. Nothing to himself, really, but he had access to the city. The fool that I was decided he was an easy way out of the slums. I charmed him, convincing him he was infatuated with me. And when it wore off, he was too polite to deny that he had invited me out for dinner."

"Commendable, if not a questionable choice," Astarion hid his surprise.

"The idea was to charm him at least in the beginning. And it worked," she shrugged. "I had charmed him enough times that he had fallen in love with me. Not entirely on his own, but still... it was his decision to place a ring on my hand."

"A ring?" he nearly choked on his wine. "You were betrothed?"

Ferelith slowly shook her head.

"You were married?"

"I was," her reply was far too calm for his liking.

An image flashed into his head. A memory he had once borrowed from her. He recalled the face of a young elven. Handsome. Proper. Filled with joy. But the way she spoke of him did not reflect the feeling he had felt when she looked at him that night. Then again, it was a human she had wed.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I've dealt with this sort of thing in the past, but I don't think I've-"

"Astarion," she cut him off, causing him to look at her. "He's dead."

"He won't be a threat, then. Good," his face lightened. "Not that I was worried. But his death makes things much easier."

The sweet smile of hers came back onto resisting lips. The flirtatious advancements were completely unnecessary, as she was already glowing with a buzz from the wine. She blamed that rather than admitting she was getting any sort of feelings from Astarion at all. His confidence told him otherwise and he refused to be wrong. The more straightforward he was about it, the further it would take him.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

A laugh burst from her, nearly causing her to spill her wine. "By the Hells, no. It's been nearly twenty years since his death, Astarion."

"I'm only making sure," he shrugged, a victorious grin spreading. "One can never be too careful."

"I take it your life has been threatened by other lovers of your past?"

"Other lovers?" he snapped his head, his brow lowering and his eyes watching her reaction deviously. "Are you considering yourself as a lover?"

Ferelith opened up her mouth to object. But her thoughts had halted her from answering. She did, in fact, word her previous sentence to include herself. Deciding there was no way around, she stared at him blinking unapologetically.

"I'm going to take that as a yes."

"No," she found herself unable to hold back.

"It's too late, I've already taken the first answer into consideration. And I'm very pleased to accept. You can't take it back, darling."

He took a sip of his wine, quite satisfied with the outcome and himself. Ferelith was not finished. However, the night had seemed rather pleasant and she felt genuine joy from their conversation. She allowed him to have his victory, if for anything, for making her laugh. It would be nice to have at least one good thing to remember him by if there ever came another time she considering slitting his throat.

"You'll have to tell me about them," she swirled her goblet.

"They're not important," he waved a hand casually. "Besides, you still haven't finished your tale."

"It's nothing, really," she looked down, not wanting to go into further detail."I lived the luxurious life of a noble for sometime. But it wasn't enough for me. I was greedy, stealing from the hands that were already willing to give."

"Naughty girl," his eyes widened.

Again, Ferelith smiled. "I was eventually discovered with nothing to blame but my own pride. I left behind everything. All my work, gone. Everything I cherished, gone. All my beautiful things... gone."

"Do I sense a bit of regret?"

The smile faded into a disgusted frown, a crease forming at the bridge of her nose. "The only thing I regret is allowing another man to become involved. If it wasn't for him, I would have likely inherited my own estate."

"And so the plot is revealed," Astarion tilted his goblet. "Alas, the husband was not the jilted lover after all."

"No. Just an impatient fool."

"So... you did intend to kill the husband."

"For purposes I'd like to remain unknown, I refuse to acknowledge you," Ferelith sat down her empty goblet. "But I feel no guilt for him. Either of them. I am only convicted with my own stupidity for allowing myself to lose everything that I had worked so hard for."

"It's a shame to lose such status... but still, there's nothing wrong with a fresh start," he replied flatly.

"Sometimes," she said with a sigh, "you must be stripped of everything before you can know true power."

Astarion looked at her with a cause for concern, noting the kindness in her voice. He seemed surprised and even somewhat shaken, lacking a voice for a response. But he quickly recovered and the usual smirk crept onto his face.

"If that's a way to say you'd like to remove my clothes, then I'd love to know your true power."

"Alright," Ferelith placed her hands across her lap. "I believe I've had enough for one evening."

"Already?" he whined. "We haven't finished the bottle."

"You are more than welcome to finish it... alone."

"No, no," he sat it down beside her. "You'll be up all night working. Take the bottle and relax. You've earned it."

"I'm flattered," she took the bottle by the neck. "Good night, Astarion."

The elf rose to his feet, dusting off his knees, leaving behind the empty goblet he brought with him. He gave one final bow to his companion.

"Good night, my darling."