#archmage of echoes

[almostlookedhuman]

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

The next 3 chapters of Hearthkeeper are all me beating my Grey Warden with a 12lbs cinder block and he deserves it he’ll be better for it promise.

[wizardnuke]

i love the empire kids so so much i feel like i am losing my gfuckinf mind. ohh my god empire kids

[daughter-lilith]

BG3 Male Companions x Fem!Reader

And Then There Were Four...

Explicit ❕❗❕❗18+

Summary: You're the Queen of a great nation in Faerûn. You have no problem ruling alone, but lately, you've found your desires aching for a partner, a husband, a king. Once word spread of a famed competition to win your affection, hundreds of thousands answered the call. And finally, at last, the final four remain: Halsin, Wyll, Gale, & Astarion.

The end of the challenge is here, and with the help of your ladies, only one shall win your hand. And you cannot wait to get started...

Word Count: 11.2k

CW: consent | oral | p in v sex | anal | multiple orgasms | polite? gangbang | F/MMMM | raw sex | passionate sex | kinky | words of praise | creampie | double penetration | stretching | brief after care | mostly F/M activities but some light F/F & M/M

Idk where this idea came from, but I hope you have fun!😘 ao3 if you prefer.

“Ah, the final four at last.” The sound of your sultry, regal voice drifted down the many steps from your throne, echoing sweetly off the high ceilings of the throne room’s walls. Your mouth slid into a half smile, eyes sweeping across the focused gazes of the men who stared forward, waiting to be granted permission to gaze upon you directly.

On each side of the room, large, golden pillars separated the massive windows adorned with sparkling jewels and glittering magic. The day’s light peered through one side of the windows, casting a warm golden glow across the room. Dozens of knights stood on guard at the foot of the throne, the aisle leading up to it, and a few at each of your sides. To your immediate right, a flowery aroma wafted around you as Shadowheart, your Hand, leaned down, whispering near your ear.

“Nearing the end already it seems. Such fun this has been.” Her breath smelled like rich wine, and you just barely caught sight of her silver hair slipping over her shoulders.

With a closed grin, you simply nodded and kept your attention focused on your waiting suitors. At the end of the steps, Minthara, one of the prestigious members of your honor guard glanced over her shoulder; her vibrant, crimson eyes meeting yours in a silent question.

You nodded once, feeling the fine jewels on your ears dangling softly. Settling into the comfort of your throne, your heart rate picked up in anticipation as you watched.

After Minthara returned a subtle nod, she turned to face the four men, putting her arms behind her back as she stepped forward and began to speak.

“Two tendays ago, the court sent out a message across Faerûn, ordered by our Queen. She has opened her heart to finding a satisfactory husband. A partner. A valiant equal. Thousands answered the call, including you…” She sauntered towards the start of the line, to the first waiting gentleman, and leisurely made her way down the lineup. “Halsin Silverbough, The Archdruid… Wyll Ravenguard, The Grand Duke… Gale Dekarios, The Archmage… Astarion Ancunín, The Vampire Magistrate.”

You watched Minthara analyzing them, tilting her head from time to time, and could only imagine the scrutinizing gaze she pierced into them. Then she returned to her starting place, the light reflecting over the red and silver jewels adorning her sides. Each of the men stood still, hands folded at their back, chests slowly rising and falling.

A soft sigh flowed from your lips as you crossed one leg over the other, eyes sweeping past them. They were all so different, all hailing from different regions and lifestyles. The vampire’s eyes reminded you of Minthara’s, but they were brighter, and you craved to see how they looked up close, with the light shining down on them.

The Duke was most intriguing. You had heard of a man once human then half turned into a tiefling. But you didn’t expect that very man to ever be standing before you, pursuing you, with horns adorned in fine jewels and one red eye that could tell so many stories.

The Archdruid’s appearance enchanted you, never had you laid eyes on such an elf before. You heard whispers from time to time, and the gossip had never been more correct. And so far, he seemed as strong in mind as he was in body.

And the Archmage was brimming with fascinating power. Even now, as he stood, silent and at the ready, you could almost feel the magic dancing just beneath his fingertips, ready to please you.

The sound of Minthara’s voice stirred you from your thoughts, and you reverted your attention to the task. Her voice filled the massive chamber, echoing down the room.

“You were among the many who answered the call. You traveled far, out of your own free will, and you have freely given your consent to earn the affection of our queen. You have succeeded in the challenges thus far. You have performed your personal artistry for the Queen. You have fought your challengers for the queen. You have bled for the queen. And now, you will do one last task for the queen…”

When she finished speaking, she took two steps to the side, allowing Lae’zel, the captain of your guard, to step forward.

Lae'zel coolly carried her great silver sword diagonally across her front, her hands gripping the hilt. She rolled her arms back, lean muscle flexing lightly.

“But before we proceed further,” she began, “like all times before, we will remind you that you may walk away before we begin. You are free to march out of those doors, leave the palace, and on orders of the queen, no harm will come to you for your early departure. So, for the last time, if you remain here for the final challenge, you will do whatever your queen asks of your mind and your body. You will oblige. You will obey. You will fulfill. And should you be chosen, you may take your place by our Majesty’s side. Or…you may leave. Do you accept?”

You leaned forward a little, heart thundering. Oh please accept. You would honor your orders and ensure no harm came to them if they chose to leave, but you eagerly hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. And as though the gods themselves felt your desires, in unison, the men bowed their heads. “I accept.”

An almost shuddering breath flowed from your lips, the excitement threatening to be too much to bear, but you quickly calmed yourself. You were a Queen after all, and one of such status should display some decorum.

Lae’zel and Minthara each walked off to the side, opposite of each other to give you a full, uninterrupted view of the final four.

“You may gaze upon me,” you said, the regality of your tone filling the chamber.

The four men roved their eyes up at you, lifting their chins slightly. A readiness reflected deeply in their eyes, a silent desire to follow your every command, to earn the highest favor. You hummed slowly, the sultry sound smooth and calming.

Taking a deep breath, you curved your lips into a tender smile. “My final four, it brings me great pleasure to see you make it this far. You have impressed me with your magic, your strength, and your words, but there is one more assessment you must partake in first. One more test of compatibility before committing myself to you... One of you will be my chosen, but the remaining three will leave here with memories that will live on until your last breath.”

As you closed your speech, the men hung on your every word, their gazes never leaving you. When you next spoke, your commands were for the selected guards, handmaidens, and servants waiting for their instructions. “Prepare them for the final challenge. Bring them to me when they are ready.”

After a few bows and a chorus of ‘yes, my queen’ and ‘Your Majesty’, the men were rounded up and led towards a side door that left the throne room.

As they exited, you felt yourself shiver in anticipation, your mind visualizing all sorts of wonderful, delectable images. Oh how quickly this challenge was coming to an end. And by the end of the night, you’d have your king. But first…

To your left, Karlach, your personal guard spoke up, her energy lively. “Ready to head to your chambers?”

You glanced up at her, a knowing smile on your face. “I am.” Then you rose, and the entire room stood at attention.

❊ ❊ ❊ ❊ ❊

The cool breeze caressed your cheeks as you stood on your balcony, one hand on the stone railing. Golden hour had approached as you took an admiring glance over the marvelous, thriving acropolis of your palace. You took another sip of your dark wine, the rich taste with a hint of sweetness warming your throat. Another gentle breeze tickled your skin, fluttering right through the thin fabric of your robe.

You closed your eyes, inhaling a deep breath of the fresh air. You had prepared for this day, mentally and physically, eagerly watching the challengers' numbers dwindle as you got closer to it. And now, at last…

A single knock from behind had you turning towards the sound.

“My Queen,” Karlach said. “Minthara says they’re ready for you.”

Your lips curved into a lustrous smirk. Taking one last sip of your wine, you set the golden goblet on the table and slipped past Karlach, sauntering back into your large room.

Bare feet touched marble floors as you moved across the lavish room. Tall, floor-to-ceiling curtains from the balcony lazily fluttered inward on the breeze, brushing past stone pillars. The smell of various incense and lavender touched your nose as you strolled towards the large bed at the center, the back against the wall. White, sheer curtains hung half-folded along the sides of the bed, dripping over lush black and purple sheets.

Off to the side of the room, you shared glances with Shadowheart and Lae’zel, sending them a quick nod.

You reached the end of your bed, then walked up the three steps leading to it and turned around. On the far end of the room, tall, double doors remained shut. And at their side, Karlach stood, tall and at the ready.

Slowly, you rolled your neck around before sighing contentedly. The fluttering in your stomach began, your heart hastened and your skin prickled.

Taking a seat at the end of your bed, one leg resting atop the other, you idly played with your long nails. And before you spoke, your lips curved into a desirous smile. “Send them in.”

Immediately, Karlach turned and pulled one of the large doors open. It groaned lightly as it moved, and you could see Minthara ushering the final four inside before she retreated, closing the door behind her.

You inhaled a deep breath, fighting the urge to bite your lips as you took them in. Stripped to nothing but their underwear, they each strolled in with sure steps, chins high, and with eyes only for you.

Shadowheart guided them on where to stand, while Karlach remained guarding the door. Once the men were aligned, side by side, some dozen or so feet away from you, you once again graced them with your voice.

“Ah, how lovely to see you again, my final four.”

You paused, taking a moment to rove your gaze over their bodies: every line, dip, and curve. Your gaze was shameless, smiling as you swept your eyes over their underwear and the teasing bulge tucked just beneath. You wondered for a moment, just how thick those bulges could become – but you were getting ahead of yourself, there was plenty of time this evening…

“Archdruid Halsin,” you sang, meeting the imposing elf’s eyes. “Take a step forth.”

Halsin did as he was told, taking a single step out of the line, slightly rolling his shoulders as he came to a stop. What a sight he was, his large frame such an anomaly, but one that you more than appreciated. A crimson tattoo swirled in lazy patterns down the right side of his face. You could see it slithering down his neck, and halfway down his right arm. Very thick arms complemented by thick thighs, and bulging veins made this large elf. Dark hair streaked across his chest and abdomen, also touching his arms and thighs. A pleasant sight.

“I’ve heard many tales, rumors, and the like about you,” you began, keeping your gaze locked onto the attentive druid. “One in particular that baffles me, is your apparent drive to roam freely, that your…nature never settles. So tell me, Archdruid, why did you answer the call? Why do you seek my hand?”

The Archdruid cleared his throat, and when he spoke, the deep timbre of his voice rolled throughout the chamber. “That was my life, my queen, for a time at least. But I have lived a long time, and my nature has called for me to plant its roots. It longs for the kind of connection it cannot find while roaming.” He paused for a moment, and the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips, confident. “And now nature has led me to you. You are all I want, my queen, and should your path also lead you to me, well, my dedication to you will know no limits. The Oakfather himself could not break it.” His irises flickered gold as he finished, and you couldn’t help the light chuckle of both pleasure and flattering amusement that hummed from your throat.

You glanced at Lae’zel, giving her a graceful wave and terse nod. In response, she stepped towards Halsin and silently guided him back in line. He bowed slowly before retaking his place.

You looked towards Wyll. “Come, Grand Duke,” you said, and the partial human, partial tiefling stepped forward, confidence oozing down his shoulders as the sunlight reflected over the gems and jewels decorating his curved horns.

The golden light also blanketed part of his warm, deep brown skin, accentuating all the ridges, scars, and lines of lean muscle. It bathed him in the most beautiful glow. Part of you wondered what he looked like before the change, but you loved the wide curve of his horns and the unique dips in his skin due to the ridges. You were sure this form was meant to be a curse, and yet your eyes took great pleasure in what stood before you.

“Wyll, you are no stranger to courtly duties and status. I am sure you have had many suitors yourselves, many hoping to be noticed by you. To take your place at my side would mean to move on from Baldur’s Gate, a city you grew up in and fought so hard for. Are you truly prepared to leave it all behind, to pass on your title?”

With no hesitation, the Grand Duke nodded his head twice. “I am. The Gate has been my home for as long as I can remember, and I have done much for that city. But now my heart answers to a greater calling; to find my home in something far superior, a home that is at your side. I know our achievements will reach far beyond the Gate. I know our bond will thrive, standing the test of time.”

You grinned, swaying your legs lightly. “Mmm, we shall see if it will…Wyll.”

He belted into a soft laugh, grinning. “And I happen to know my way around the ballroom, should you ever wish to twirl beneath the chandeliers.”

With a light but welcoming laugh, you signaled Lae’zel once again. As Wyll returned to his place, you met eyes with the famed wizard.

“Gale of Waterdeep, a master wizard.” You curved your index finger, curling it towards you, and the Archmage came forth.

A dark marking, like an orb or a fireball falling from the sky, traced from the top of his left collarbone to the top of his chest. It looked faded, washing into his smooth skin. Like the Archdruid, faint strands of hair decorated his chest. You made a soft hum in surprise, roving your eyes down his torso. His abdomen was surprisingly taut for a non-warrior, and when you met his gaze, there was a smirk dipped into his cheek at your wandering eyes.

You tapped your nails along your knee. “You were once involved with Mystra, on a more… intimate level, correct?”

Gale nodded once. “Correct, my queen.”

“Hmm, then I can only imagine why you seek my affection – my heart. Surely after embracing the arms of a goddess, one cannot outmatch that, no?”

The smirk in his mouth smoothed out, and the confident glint in his eyes became serious. “I worked under Mystra, then I shared her bed, her heart, but never as her equal but as a plaything she took interest in. After our parting, my only goal was to turn my heart back to its first love: magic.” He glanced away for a mere second, before looking at you again, eyes softening. “But my heart was missing something, the chance for true love, deserved love. You are my queen, but as your husband, you will be my goddess.”

A warm flush spread across your skin at his words, and your eyes narrowed in appreciation. Another signal at the captain of your honor guard, and Gale reclaimed his place in line. Then last, but so far from least, you finally eyed the vampire.

“The Vampire Magistrate, let us speak,” you softly commanded.

With an almost sultry saunter, Astarion ambled forward just as the gentle breeze brushed through his bright, silver hair, shaking a few curls. His pale skin seemed even paler with the light illuminating the side of his body. Completely hairless, it came as no surprise that his physique was fitting of an elf-turned-vampire, lean and tight, sculpted in all the right ways. Vibrant, red eyes gazed at you, and your breath nearly hitched at the tantalizing sight.

“Astarion,” you began, tilting your head slightly. “The vampire who is neither spawn nor ascendant, and yet basks in the glory of the sun. When I was told a vampire would be seeking my hand, I almost didn’t believe it. Is it just my heart you seek, or is it what my heart pumps throughout this body, every second, every moment?”

He let out a rhythmic chuckle, giving you a peek of the fangs within, sharp and pure white. “Well, my dear mesmerizing queen,” a charming finesse dripped from his tongue. “While I have no doubt what flows within your body is…quite delectable, I have admired you for quite some time. Your grace, your wisdom, your ability to lead and unite the realms, it is fascinating. Most admirable. And there is no other person I would trust, nor want, to warm this chilled heart.”

Quite unexpecting words from the charming vampire, but your smile was hard to conceal. With a wave, you had him ushered back in the line with the other three.

Taking a deep breath, you rose to your feet, the silk of your robe moving with you. “Your words touch me, and I am more than pleased that you succeeded your competitors. But before I allow one of you to forever have me, the four of you must first share… Consider it a gift for making it so far.”

You reached for the strap around your waist and pulled it, unraveling it with ease. Bringing your hands to the middle of your robe, you pulled it apart, letting the slippery silk fall to your feet. Completely naked before them, you arched your back to accentuate your chest, already feeling your nipples becoming taut.

The men remained silent as they watched you, save for the quiet gasps and shudders of breath.

Halsin’s eyes flashed a brief light of gold, his mighty stance shifting. Wyll’s gaze seemed to struggle to stay on your eyes, his parted lips and thickening bulge betraying him. The tiniest sparks of electric blue fluttered at Gale’s fingertips, and he clenched his fists, tracing you with his eyes. The red in Astarion’s eyes seemed darker, pooling with brazen lust. You caught him giving a brief lick to one fang.

Pleased, you sat down on the soft bed, resting your feet on the step just below. “My final four, I adore the pretty words that leave your tongue, but now you must show me just how skilled that tongue is by itself.” Slowly, you leaned back on one elbow, spreading your legs apart, gracing them with a view of your most intimate place. “But no fingers here.” You tapped your nails lightly down your moist center.

“Archdruid, you may come to me.” Your voice was breathy, sensual, as you locked eyes with the large elf.

Behind him, you noticed Lae’zel and Shadowheart pulling the other men off to the side but keeping them in the room.

Large, slow yet purposeful strides closed in on you as Halsin made his way to you. He stopped at the bottom of the two steps, towering over you. Your heart quickened at the sight, how large and imposing he was this close, hazel eyes glistening with desire; a dim gold that threatened to burn again. He wasn’t touching you, but you could already feel the warmth that exuded from the old druid, aching to wrap you into it. Then, he lowered onto his knees, eyes on you the entire time, and tentatively reached to touch your thigh.

Halsin leaned near the side of your thigh, and you could feel his warm breath brushing against you. He moved closer, then paused, eyeing you in a silent question.

“Go on, Archdruid,” you whispered, encouraging.

He grinned, a few fine lines dipping into his cheeks. “As you wish, my queen.”

Large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you even wider. It was such a simple touch and yet the warmth, the strength, already had you biting your lips. A warm mouth kissed your inner thigh lightly, testing and learning. A shiver rushed down your back as warm breath brushed past the area you ached most, and another soft kiss pressed into your thigh. A long, satisfying hum flowed from your lips as a large, flat tongue pressed against your waiting vulva, starting from the space between your two holes, and languidly sliding up to your waiting clit. His entire tongue covered you, immediately coating you with his warm saliva.

A deep, pleasurable groan rumbled from the druid’s throat, reverberating up your body. Keeping his hands firmly on your thighs, his tongue wasted no time dipping between the tender folds of your labia, before the point of his tongue poked and pressed over your now swollen clit. A soft moan sang from your lips at the throbbing sensation, and Halsin responded by sucking purposefully, exploring the different pitches and sounds he could pull from you. You gasped as the tip of his tongue suddenly dipped inside you, worming its way as far as it could go.

“Mmm.” Your moans were a rising chorus now, bouncing off the gold and alabaster-painted walls. One hand reached for Halsin, slipping through the soft tresses of his hair where you dug your nails in.

Another groan, almost growl vibrated against you, and he gripped your thighs harder, exploring you deeper, drinking all of you he could. Toes curling, your lips were left parted, sighing unabashedly at the tingling sensations firing through you while the Archdruid continued to tongue-fuck you. Higher and higher were your pitches, until a flood of the most familiar, most pleasurable sensations washed down your core, spraying the druid who happily welcomed your fountain. Panting heavily, you trembled slightly as Halsin lapped you up, leisurely cleaning you with his tongue the way a cat would.

With the bottom of your foot, you gently but intentionally nudged his back. Halsin looked up at you, and your breath caught at the shining, golden eyes caught in a web of lust, staring up at you. It was a most alluring sight, stoking new fires within you.

It reminded you that you weren’t finished yet, for the day was long. With an aroused breath, you tried your best not to speak too shakily. “Thank you, Archdruid.”

Almost reluctantly, Halsin rose to his full height, his lips glistening as he stared down and bowed at you. Stealing a glance at his underwear, a wet stain had collected against a large, stiff shape. You smiled, tilting your head to the side as a signal to join the others.

“Bring me the Duke,” you instructed.

A light shuffle of feet sounded before you noticed Shadowheart politely guiding the Grand Duke to the bottom of your bed. She glanced at you from behind him, bowing lightly with a knowing smile.

Wyll’s horns seemed even larger from this short distance, and you couldn’t help but wander your eyes down his chest, steadily rising and falling as old scars were illuminated by the light. Your gaze unabashedly dropped to the hard mound hidden beneath red underwear.

Swaying your knee slightly, you readjusted your weight on your elbows. “The Archdruid cleansed me before your arrival, but can you sully me up again, Grand Duke?”

Wyll smirked, his one, almost glowing red eye holding your gaze. Then, he dipped into a formal bow like he was offering you a dance. “It would be my utmost pleasure.” Rising, he took one step up, then another before gracefully lowering down on one knee. The bracelets and jewels adorning his horns jangled a little, sparkling in the golden light filling half the room.

As he lowered towards you, you’re able to better see the ridges and scars along each side of his neck, and you can’t help but reach out, gently running a hand down the lines. Wyll closed his eyes at your touch, his mouth partly open. His scarring was rough against your fingers, something of an incredible story behind those markings. Pulling away, you leaned back on your elbow.

Wyll peered at you just as you nodded towards your moist flesh. “You may feast, Grand Duke.”

Wyll dipped his head towards your navel first. Warm lips kissed your soft skin, gentle and polite. Your skin prickled behind his touch, and pleasurable flutters filled your belly. A soft sigh radiated from your lips as you closed your eyes and settled into this sense of calm and gentleness, wondering if his tongue would be just as gentle.

It was not.

Once his lips closed over your clit, the pressure from his tongue and inside of his mouth was immediate. Your eyes shot open at the sudden sensation, the Grand Duke giving you no time to lull into the gradually rising pleasure. Instantly, your toes clamped as he tasted you ruthlessly, hungrily, like you were the first source of nourishment he had in days. Wyll’s head tilted side to side, sloppily tasting and sucking your already so tender flesh. His hands gripped the sheets next to your thighs, and you could tell he so desperately wanted to add his fingers to feel you, dip inside you, but you were more than pleased that he abided by your one rule.

Your loud whimper echoed across the chambers as his tongue continued to absolutely suck you swollen. You reached forward, grabbing both of his horns, and pushed his face deeper onto your flesh, so wet and dripping, slathering yourself over him. Wyll groaned quietly, never giving your clit a moment’s reprieve. Before long, a familiar feeling buzzed down your navel, making your legs tremble as you were brought to another peak.

Catching your breath, you released your grip on his horns as Wyll’s tenacious tongue finally relaxed against you. Like the Archdruid before him, he quietly ran his tongue over you, catching your fluids. You took him by one horn again and gently nudged him back. “Much appreciated, Grand Duke.”

With a lazy wave from you, Lae’zel came forward this time, guiding Wyll to his feet. He bowed deeply, then returned to his place.

Before your next contender, you rotated your neck and then inhaled deeply, calming your heart. With a whisper, you spoke a short incantation and pressed two fingers over your lower abdomen. A cool sensation spread through you instantly, reawakening your senses as it sped up the resolution phase. Already, your once swollen clit calmed, and your heart did not pace as fast. But this stage, to your hope, wouldn’t last for long.

“The Wizard, please,” you said, feeling recharged.

It took no time to watch silver hair pass by the sheer curtains on the side of your bed, emerging into view alongside the famed Archmage. Shadowheart waved lightly, leaving you with the wizard. As he sauntered over you, a very knowing smirk seemed permanently curved into his face. For a man who once laid with a goddess, you could practically touch the confidence oozing from the powerful wizard.

You spread your legs wider, drawing his eyes towards your slick center. “Tell me, Archmage, will you worship me?”

Gale roved his eyes back to yours, the desire and determination in his eyes ever present. “There’s nothing that would give me greater pleasure.”

The wizard kept his gaze on you, sauntering forward before sinking to his knees. He dipped forward, the day’s light shining over his dark brown tresses with faint hints of silver swirling into his mane. A soft hand slid under your knee, lifting your leg to rest over his shoulder. The rate of your heart began to pick up again and you could already feel your feet twitching to curl at the promised sensations to come.

Gale hovered towards your waiting sex, looking up at you. “If I may for a moment…”

You quirked your brow as you watched him keenly. He closed his eyes and a stream of subtle whispers flowed from his lips. Blue-white mist wafted from his mouth in a beautiful cloud. He exhaled and a sudden gasp escaped your throat. A cool, near-icy sensation spread over you, and you nearly lost the footing of your other leg resting on the top step. Gale chuckled lightly, picking up your other leg to rest on his shoulder as well. You threw your head back as his mouth kissed your chilled lips, but it was strangely pleasant, electric even as his icy tongue slithered between your lips. His head moved back and forth, tongue lathering you sweetly.

You bit your lips, panting at the dozens of sensations bubbling through you. And when he dipped his tongue inside, you yelped, the contrast of his cool tongue and your hot walls overwhelming. His tongue swirled inside of you before tracing up and in between your labia, leaving all sorts of tingles and prickles over your wet flesh as your clit throbbed in his mouth. You gazed up at the high ceilings, fingers clenching as you approached the top of an icy mountain. Belly tightening, toes curling, a shattering moan escaped your lungs. The coolness of Gale’s tongue shifted into a soothing warmth. He swiped tender, lazy licks over your sensitive, wet lips before sealing his work with a kiss.

“My queen,” Gale smiled, cheek and chin glistening with your juices.

Like clockwork, Lae’zel came behind him. “Chk,” she sounded, waiting for him to rise. He gently lowered your legs off him before standing.

Coming down, you focused on leveling your breathing before speaking. “Many thanks, Archmage.”

With a respectful bow, he was escorted off to the side.

You locked eyes with vibrant, crimson gems and curled your finger towards you in a silent calling. With smooth finesse, light footsteps almost glided across the floor as the vampire made his way to the steps leading to your bed. Your heart leaped as his glimmering; red eyes drank you in. You had never been intimate with a vampire before, and your body couldn’t quell its excitement. The day’s light shined over his pale skin, piquing your curiosity as to how he managed to walk in the daylight. Perhaps a spell, maybe something to do with the silver ring he wore. But such questions were less important at present.

You noticed his chest wasn’t moving as you looked down at him with a desirous mien wrapped in a box of pure confidence. Dripping, you slid your finger down between your folds then leisurely back up again, feeling how moist you were, your body’s warmth fully returned. “Will you show me your teeth, vampire?”

Astarion’s smile dipped further into his cheek, and he quickly teased you with a show of his fang as his tongue flicked over it. “With pleasure,” he near-whispered, never dropping his gaze.

But instead of moving towards you, he remained still as a statue, eyes still locked on you as you waited. You quirked a brow, wondering what ruminated in this vampire’s mind as he left you waiting. But before you could settle into confusion, before you could call him to you – a cold rush of air whipped over you, stealing your breath. With supernatural speed, Astarion blinked toward you, stopping over your belly. You gasped as he winked at you, grinning with a flash of his fangs.

You returned an amusing smile as he descended toward your center. A shiver coursed through you as the tip of his fangs grazed your now plump, tender flesh, careful not to pierce skin. Like the Archmage, the vampire’s breath was cold, but in a way that felt more natural, like a relieving dip in the river on a hot summer’s day.

A rhythmic, rumbling purr vibrated up his throat, immediately overwhelming you as you let your head fall back. A sudden sigh left your mouth as his cold hands grasped your thighs, keeping your legs wide apart. His tongue was cold but not icy, slithering over your folds like a snake winding down a tree. And when he closed his mouth over your clit, a shiver charged down your legs, your fingers gripping the lush sheets. Between the electric point of his fangs and the purring noises the vampire made, a torrent of sensations was already firing through you, heart racing in your chest.

The volume of your quiet moans elevated as Astarion feasted below you – as much as a vampire could without a drop of blood. His expert tongue was calling for your orgasm, pulling it through your body at devastating speeds. Another flick of his tongue on your clit and you were erupting once again, your entire body trembling from yet another climax reached. Panting, you looked back down to find him grinning at you. His tongue ran a long swipe over his lips, purposefully flashing his fangs at you in the process.

You smiled in silent appreciation as your breathing slowly began to level. You nodded your head and Astarion gave your swollen labia one last kiss before rising. By now, he knew the routine and rolled his shoulders back before returning to his place in line.

With all the men lined back up, side by side, you remained in bed completely lust-filled, and skin flushed. You throbbed in all the best ways, your wetness still lightly dripping out of you. Instead of repeating the former incantation, you decided to revel in the belly of this high, allowing it to calm on its own. As graceful as possible, you dragged yourself further back on the large bed, made easier by the velvety silk cover, and rested at the center. You turned to lean on your left side, pulling the sheer drapes back.

“My girls,” you called, looking at Lae’zel and Shadowheart, “will you do me the honors, and tell me how they taste? Tell me how they feel in your hands. Bring them just to the edge.”

“Of course, my queen,” Lae’zel answered.

“I would love to.” Shadowheart bit her lip, and you could easily imagine the excitement in her heart, the blood rushing to her core in arousal.

Then your gaze passed over each of the men. “And you, lovely gentlemen, don’t touch, just stand and experience.” A simple order, but one that would be watched closely, by both you and your personal tiefling guard who still stood by the doors.

The two women walked before the men and carefully yet deliberately dragged their underwear down, freeing them immediately. You bit your lips as you watched each cock spring forth, various shades and sizes and angles. Whether it stood high and erect like the vampire’s, or hung thick and heavy like the Archdruid’s, your core tingled, saliva gathering in your mouth. But for now, patience.

Once the men were fully naked and bare, your ladies strolled to each end of the line with Shadowheart stopping in front of Halsin, and Lae’zel before Astarion. In perfect sync, they sank to their knees and your heart drummed in anticipation as you observed eagerly. You found yourself biting your lips as their tongues licked languidly up Halsin and Astarion’s cocks, feeling a rush of heat to your already so tender center. While their mouths began to work, one of their hands stroked the length of Wyll and Gale’s shafts.

Astarion’s hands were twitching and Halsin’s jaw looked clenched before he let his head fall backwards. Shadowheart seemed to be struggling with the Archdruid’s cock at first, and the sight made you sigh in pleasure. She only needed to taste, not try to take it all in, but you were feeling generous and allowed her to proceed.

As they fell into a steady motion, you watched the men's eyes closing in bliss, faces pooling in pleasure as the two women found a steady motion. Eventually, they alternated; mouths and hands on new cocks, tasting and testing. You were absolutely exhilarated by the sight, feeling hot as you watched their abdomens tighten and flex, knowing they so desperately wanted something to grip, to hold, but could only clench their fists.

The men were a moaning, whimpering mess. Various tone levels overlapped and echoed against the walls. From the deep, near-growling Archdruid; to the softer sighs of the Wizard, a throaty groan from the Duke, and hissing sighs from the Vampire. Sweat dripped down their skin, shimmering in the warm glow of the golden light outside that began to dip but still shined into the room.

Despite the needy sounds of pleasure, they never touched the two ladies who still licked, sucked, and fondled them. Each time you sensed one of them getting close, your ladies would pull away and leave them promptly until the very last one was denied their orgasm. And this pleased you greatly.

Shadowheart rose to her feet, strolling over to you with a happy smile, while Lae’zel’s lips were glistening from her saliva, face flushed. The women shared a look with each other first, some quiet recognition passing between them. Once they reached the side of your bed, they lowered their voices, just out of earshot.

Lae’zel spoke first. “Forgive us, my queen, but this may prove more difficult than we anticipated.”

“They each have their unique taste,” Shadowheart added, “and truthfully… I enjoyed all of it.”

The githyanki licked her lips, her yellow eyes brightening. “And their musk is most divine. I still smell it, can taste it on my lips. Even now I grow moist within.”

A shiver rushed through you at her words, and you tapped your fingers along your bare hip, pondering.

“What do you suggest, my queen?” asked Shadowheart.

You looked past them, glancing at the four men who stood patiently, cocks stiff and waiting. You knew there was a chance it would come to this, in fact, you hoped. And here it was… “Hmm, I suppose my body may be in need of your healing after this is all done,” you stated, eyeing Shadowheart who nodded knowingly. “And do we have enough sponges?”

Lae’zel nodded once. “We do. I checked earlier, just in case.”

A light chuckle left your lips, and you rose into a side-sitting position. “Then it shall be done. But first, a sample.” Your gaze bounced between both of their lips and they wasted no time climbing on the bed, crawling towards you.

Lae’zel found your lips first, her tongue sliding into your mouth almost immediately. Her mouth was warm, wet, lips as plump as you remember as your tongue danced with hers. But she wasn’t too greedy, pulling away to allow Shadowheart access to your mouth, which she happily obliged. You smirked in amusement as a soft moan flowed from her mouth, one she seemingly couldn’t resist. Her warm tongue slithered over and under yours, and not a moment later, you felt a new tongue worming its way in.

The three of you shared a wet, tongue-dancing, open-mouthed kiss – swapping saliva and biting lips. Various tastes of sweat and skin collected on your tongue, all strangely unique, mingling with the taste of the two women. Your heart thundered, stomach fluttering, and there was a temptation to run your fingers through their hair and have them shed the comfortable, delicate garments they wore. But as you opened your eyes, you caught a glance at the final four who stood some paces away, silent, watching intently. With a smile, you hummed in delight as you pulled away.

“Thank you, my dears.” You eyed them both sweetly. They smiled, bowing lightly before gracefully ambling off the bed.

“We shall be close,” said Lae’zel, before making her way to the waiting gentleman.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, your body rippled with excitement. Your stomach quivered and you were oh too aware of the beat of your heart. Leaning on your arm, your eyes swam over the patient men who seemed ready to hang onto your every word.

“My final four,” the passionate, resplendent tone of your voice flowed through the chamber, “seek your pleasure with me as if I was already your wife. Guide me to many peaks, and seek your own.”

You ran a nail along your bottom lip as you took in their expressions, before trailing your gaze down their excited cocks. You could’ve sworn you noticed Gale’s twitch just a tad and it made you chuckle, flattered. With a delectable hum, you called two forth. “Wyll, Gale, come to me.”

Lae’zel extended her arm in your direction, leading the pair towards you. As they made their way, you cast a glance at the other two and could’ve sworn you noticed a hint of dejection dragging across the vampire’s face, while the Archdruid appeared stoic, but you saw right through his eyes.

Wyll and Gale approached your bedside, their erections bouncing with each step.

Shadowheart’s voice filled the grand room. “You may touch her, kiss her, taste her, bite her…”

Lae’zel tacked on. “…Fill her, then fill her again, and again…”

The Archmage and the Grand Duke almost looked nervous as they came to your bed, like they knew they were nearing the end. But now was not the time to have them waning under pressure.

You slowly traced your gaze over their naked bodies, biting your lips as you watched them practically throbbing for you. But after they climbed the two steps to your bed, neither of them moved, waiting for your direction. Your stomach fluttered. It filled you with such bliss to still see them so obedient for you, such wonderful traits. So it was only right to give them one more command.

“Don’t be shy. Take the lead now, and don’t make me wait too long…”

Your words seemed to ignite a fire behind their eyes, and you caught a faint flash of blue sparks dancing across Gale’s fingers. The men shared a glance with one another, then nodded, some personal understanding. You watched Wyll stroll to the other side of the bed, then looked at Gale one last time before the two of them crawled up and onto the plush mattress and silky sheets.

You closed your eyes and exhaled a breath of pleasure as their lips touched each side of your neck. Gale licked his way up to your ear while Wyll trailed his tongue down your neck before sucking lightly. One calloused hand began massaging your breast, kneading gently, while another smoother palm caressed the other one. Shivers trickled down your neck, surging down your back from the dual sensations. You were still dripping, still so moist from having them taste you earlier. Still so wet from watching your ladies taste their veiny cocks.

You were so ready for them, so ready to feel what else they could do for you. If they could once again shatter you with more explosions of pleasure. And as if they were detecting your thoughts, your world shifted and your eyes flung open as four hands took hold of your waist and hips, lifting you momentarily to give Gale room to slide beneath you. Wyll shot you a smirk and winked before flipping you over on your knees. Gale had laid himself flat on his back, his head propped on a few pillows while your face hovered over him; your ass up for Wyll to gaze and admire.

Gale lifted his head, capturing your lips. You met him readily, kissing him slowly, learning and exploring. His tongue seemed to shift from cold to warm, the contrasting sensations making you moan and sigh into his mouth. You reveled in the light scratch of his beard against your chin as your heads tilted from one side to the other. A tremor ran up your back at the feeling of a warm tongue licking your other lips as Wyll lathered between your wet folds. The Duke’s tongue dragged from the top of your tailbone, all the way down to your tender clit as you moaned heavily into Gale’s mouth.

When Gale pulled back, you felt his hand sliding down your sides, the tip of his cock tapping against your folds. “My dearest queen. My future goddess, are you ready?” he muttered softly. He took one hand away from your waist and brought it under your chin, swiping a thumb across your bottom lip, his eyes warm with lust.

“Yes,” you whispered, and his mouth curved into a devious smirk.

Wyll gave the cheeks of your ass two soft kisses. And with the guidance of his hands on you, the two of them positioned your soaked entrance just over Gale’s tip, sinking you onto him. You sucked in a breath as the Archmage penetrated you, slipping so well through your soaked walls, opening you so nicely.

When you were fully sat onto him, a ripple of pleasure rushed over you, but you were given no time to revel in it for Gale was lifting you again as Wyll guided your hips back down. In perfect unison, like they had practiced this before, they moved your lower body up and down on the wizard’s cock in long, rhythmic motions.

Below you, Gale moaned deeply, whispering about how amazing you felt. “So warm.” He managed to breathe, his lips parted and eyes drunk with lust. Your moans rang through the room, unabashed, drowning in the feel of the Archmage rubbing against your tight walls, over and over again. You needn’t move at all, for they made sure to guide you, to set the pace and the depth. But your arms were starting to tremble, so you fell on your elbows, resting over Gale’s chest, pressing your breasts against him.

Gale folded his legs, digging the heel of his feet onto the bed. A loud moan erupted from your mouth as he pushed harder into you, all the while telling you how beautiful and incredible you were. You felt a presence hovering over your back and warm drops of fluid trickling over your cheeks, followed by something long sliding between. Wyll’s groans mingled with your moans as he rubbed himself between your ass, and you shuddered at the peculiar feeling. Were those ridges lining up and down his shaft?

The Duke lowered towards you, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “May I?” he asked, suggestively poking the head of his cock over your second hole as Gale continued moving in and out of you.

Your blood burned at the suggestion, and you moaned out a needy ‘yes’.

“But first,” you started to say, your words cut short as the wizard throbbed inside of you. “Sh—Shadow—” you breathed, trying to call for her.

Not a moment later, a gentle voice appeared near the right side of your bed. “Way ahead of you, my queen,” you heard Shadowheart say. You could hear her mutter a spell before clasping her hands together. “For you and the Grand Duke,” she said.

Instantly, a cool sensation dribbled between your cheeks, thick and oozing. You felt Wyll lift his cock from you, imagining him lathering himself with magical lubricant. Then he returned to you, something soft and moist rubbing over your tight hole.

“Just breathe, Your Grace,” Wyll encouraged quietly, his warm breath tickling your ear.

You let out a breathy chuckle, flattered by his gentleness as he nibbled on your ear, sending a tremor down your back, and making you sigh in delight. From the corner of your eyes, you could see the curve of his horns and the glint of the jewelry that adorned them. You longed to grab onto those horns, but the anticipation made your forearms feel weak, and from this angle with how they caged you, it would be difficult, but not impossible.

Wyll sank a finger inside your anus first, and you hummed against Gale, already so sensitive as Wyll’s finger explored you, tested you. Once pleased, he released his finger and leaned away from your neck. Then, you felt a new pressure against your anus, something larger, pressing into the waiting hole. A louder moan dripped from your lips at the incredibly new sensation. A feeling you hadn’t felt in quite some time. And you breathed deeply as fresh sparks of familiar pain ran through you as the half-tiefling stretched your sphincter while you tried to relax the muscle.

“Gods,” you breathed, trying to moan again but it was swallowed by the wizard’s sudden kiss.

Wyll’s hand firmly cupped the sides of your ass as he pushed deeper and deeper. “That’s it, you have it,” he droned behind you, making you moan at the praise.

You felt so incredibly full, both of your holes stuffed to the brim as Wyll began a slow and steady rhythm, letting you get used to him before his pace increased. The ridges of his shaft felt incredible, making your hands claw into the wizard’s chest as he moaned beneath you.

Soon, Wyll moved in perfect sync with Gale’s cock, thrusting and dragging out of you at the same time before sinking back in. Your heart thundered as you leaked endlessly, your wetness continuing to drench your walls, your arousal never waning, only climbing. You could feel them practically rubbing against each other from inside you, and before long, you were a screaming, whimpering mess as they used your holes to their hearts' content. As they pleased you in a way you gave command to while still taking pleasure for themselves.

Soon, their movements fell out of sync and you closed your eyes, drowning in the heightened sensations. Gale muttered something you could hardly hear, but you gasped at the feeling of his suddenly cold cock ramming through your walls. You would’ve lifted yourself for reprieve if you could, but Wyll had part of his weight on you, making a home deep within your ass.

“Remember to fill her.” You heard someone say, Lae’zel maybe, you weren’t sure.

You managed to lift yourself just enough from Gale’s chest and reached one arm behind you, finding a curved horn that you wasted no time gripping. A wave of pleasure came soaring in from the high tides, coming closer and closer as your song reached a higher pitch. It came until it crashed into you, shattering your entire body with its ecstasy. A heavy grunt filled your ear as Wyll’s movements stuttered inside your ass while Gale twitched within you. Warm, thick fluid filled both of your holes, and you sighed as they simultaneously withdrew, allowing some of them to seep out onto the covers or over Gale’s thighs.

Heavy breathing and panting surrounded the three of you. You felt so dazed, so open and tender.

Wyll shuffled back, and you used that moment to turn over, unceremoniously sliding off Gale in the process. Laying flat on your back, feeling their seed drip from you, your body buzzed, still burning for more. This time Wyll dipped down to kiss you, sweetly, passionately. You felt someone’s fingers swirl light patterns around your clit as the two men slowly guided you through this high.

Through the haze, you heard Shadowheart call for someone, instructing them. “Our queen’s nipples are looking rather lonely, maybe you can help with that.”

Through hooded eyes, you noticed the sheer curtains on your left side moving, and a large figure standing at the foot of your bed, looking down at you, eyes dark with a desperate want. Broad shoulders rolled slightly, and large pecs expanded from a deep breath. The sight invigorated you, stoking the fire that still burned. Your gaze traveled down the Archdruid’s heavily muscled frame, landing at his thick, leaking cock that barely hid the large sac hanging behind it. You were so entranced by the view that you gasped at the sudden flick of a tongue over your nipple, accompanied by a cold presence.

Bright, silver-white hair filled your vision as a long tongue swirled around your areola before teeth clamped onto your nipple. You hissed, flesh tingling, as the vampire gently bit down on your breast, tracing his fangs along your warm skin. You couldn’t help but reach forward and slip your fingers between his curls. Even his hair felt cold but soft as silk, his scalp smooth as you gripped gently.

Gale came to kiss you this time, and your eyes fluttered closed as you gave in to the passionate dance of his tongue. Occupied by the kiss, you felt the bed shift slightly as a blanket of warmth emanated from your left, like the sun itself had laid next to you. And the only thing that kept you from burning was the icy vampire who cooled your body, giving you a beautiful balance. The perfect temperature. You broke the kiss with the wizard just as tantalizing warmth took your other breast into their mouth. You looked down at the Archdruid who was already staring at you, one large hand resting over your belly. In the distraction, Gale slipped away from the side of your shoulder, giving the vampire more room to drag his tongue up along your collarbone.

“You taste divine,” Astarion murmured near your ear before pressing a kiss to your pulse point. The temptation to sink his fangs must’ve been so great while his dagger-like teeth grazed you, making you shiver.

“And you smell incredible,” the deep, husky voice of Halsin graced your ears next. His nose was up by the back of your ear now, and he inhaled deeply, purring a deep groan afterward that rumbled down your side.

You moaned in sweet bliss as they kissed and licked your hot skin, letting them feel and explore you.

“Shall we clean her for them?” The sound of the Duke hovered over your soft whines and sighs.

“It would be the polite thing to do,” Gale’s voice followed. And soon, your toes curled as a warm tongue started lapping up your vulva.

Flicking your gaze down at the new activity, you called onto your voice that felt so far, so lost in ecstasy. “Nn- no, at the…same time,” you ordered, hoping your command would reach them.

You heard Wyll chuckling, but in a way that sounded like he couldn’t wait to please you. Gale glanced up at you, lifting his face from your swollen cunt with a growing smirk. A moment later, two tongues were lapping at you, swirling over each other as they licked up and down your vulva and down to your anus. They licked you cleanly, drinking in your combined fluids with zero hesitation.

A large hand came around your neck, drawing your attention towards waiting lips. You let the Archdruid pull you into him, sealing his lips with yours. It was lightly scarred, and the feeling made you moan, wanting to bite and tug at his lip. But it was his groans that were sending you into oblivion, so deep and pleasurable in your ears, vibrating down your body.

“I would love a taste,” hummed the vampire, kissing your cheek. The Archdruid obliged, leaving your lips with a quick suck before a cool hand took your chin, guiding you towards them.

You whined as Astarion grazed his fangs over your lips, biting softly. His cold tongue slithered inside your eager mouth, falling into a hasty dance with your tongue. You shivered in pure delight as his cool breath mingled with yours, breathing it down your throat as Halsin continued to brush kisses down your neck, settling on your shoulder. You moaned lowly in Astarion’s mouth as a firm, tantalizing pressure pressed into your shoulder. The Archdruid growled as he bit down on you, not enough to bleed, but enough to leave a beautiful mark as his large hand massaged your supple breast.

“My dear queen,” the vampire murmured against your lips. You hummed in response, blinking your eyes open to meet his crimson, mischievous gaze. “I shall have you now, yes?”

You nodded quietly, desperately. You tried to reach for his lips again, but he drew back, chuckling lightly. Below you, a sudden suck made you squeal, your clit so raw by now. And for the second time tonight, the room spun, and you were promptly gripped, lifted, and placed right where they wanted you, where they craved you. This time the vampire was on his back, and your back was resting against his front. Unlike the wizard who gave you a brief warning, the vampire lifted you slightly and shoved his cold cock into your heat.

You bit your lips, trying and failing to stifle your endless moans, feeling so overwhelmed by the speed at which the vampire thrust into you. His arms linked around yours, locking you against his body. Your breast bounced as Astarion stroked into you which only seemed to draw in Gale and Wyll who couldn’t help but take your nipples in their mouth.

A gasp fell from your mouth as a thick finger slithered into your anus, followed by a warm mouth closing over your clit. Through a haze, you watched the broad shoulders of the Archdruid, sweaty and flexed, as his head moved up and down. Halsin dragged his tongue through your folds, swirling on the outside of your entrance as Astarion’s shaft continued to grind into you. The vampire was hissing in your ear, his icy breath making you tremble. You closed your eyes, seeing a formation of stars as you succumbed to the overwhelming surges of pleasure, your toes clenched so tight and your stomach fluttering, skin flush. A thick shot of fluid spilled into you as Astarion’s grip tightened around your arms and his cold breath coasted over your cheek. You chased his orgasm with your own, body trembling in his arms as Halsin still sucked and tasted you.

Finally, Astarion withdrew from you, and you whimpered at the feeling of sudden emptiness. He didn’t relieve the lock on your arms, but he did lessen the tension as you caught your breath, closing your eyes while the men fondled and caressed your body.

“You took me so well, my queen,” Astarion purred, his tone making you shiver. “And you felt heavenly.”

The sunlight felt warm on your skin, still peering through the large windows but continuing to make way for the moon, yet it was still just high enough to reach your chamber. Your body felt intoxicated, all sorts of sensations firing throughout your nerves. Then a shadow moved over you, but you were too drunk with the afterglow of lust to open your eyes.

“Will you honor me with this gift, my queen?” a voice asked you, so deep and warm, but you could hear the thick desire in their throat. “Just one more time, my heart to be.”

You lazily opened your eyes, peering at the towering figure before you. “Mm, yes,” you said, finding your legs opening to their own volition, still having just enough left in you.

Still constricted by the vampire, you wanted to reach upward, to place the palm of your hand against the thick chest of the Archdruid, squeezing the muscle. You knew he felt so incredibly warm, heart likely thundering behind that strong chest, and you bit your lips as you watched him position himself between your legs.

Gale and Astarion were busy kissing and licking along your earlobe, while Wyll tenderly kissed his way up your chest. He planted a kiss on your chin, smiling at you briefly before meeting his soft, full lips with yours. You closed your eyes, falling into the sweet kiss as you mentally prepared for the familiar sensation.

But your eyes shot open, and you whimpered into Wyll’s mouth. It was anything but familiar. Your holes had been so used already, so tender and raw. And yet, as the Archdruid entered you, a new sting of pain rippled through you, your walls being stretched anew.

You turned your head to look down at where you and Halsin met, watching his thick cock slowly disappear in you. “Mmm… fuck,” the curse fell from your lips as he expanded your walls inch by inch. It wasn’t like you didn’t know his girth was thick, but perhaps you were too lost in a daze to think about such things.

Or perhaps you assumed that you had plenty of prep from all the previous cocks and fingers thrusting in and out of you.

Your toes clenched as the Archdruid continued to sink. With Astarion still securing your arms, and Halsin’s grip on your thighs tight, you couldn’t wiggle away even if you wanted to. And you so, so badly wanted to stay, to sigh and gasp through the stretch.

“Ohh, my queen,” Halsin groaned deeply above you, focusing so intently on your leaking cunt.

Glancing at him, you shuddered as his irises started to glow again, a fierce gold charged with a primal desire. You hissed a little as he sunk deeper, almost reaching his limit and yours, and your stomach tightened, toes still clenched.

Shadowheart’s tender voice caught your ears. “Relax, my queen. Open for the Archdruid. Allow pleasure to carry you to its peak once more.”

Encouraged by your words, you exhaled and let your abdomen rest.

“Does he stretch you well, my queen?” Astarion whispered in your ear. You whimpered in response.

Finally reaching the base, Halsin held still for a moment and stared down at you, like he couldn’t believe the wondrous sight below him. But the moment of reprieve was short as he began to move, and you let your head fall back on Astarion’s left shoulder.

The vampire immediately came to the right side of your neck, leaving you love bites and more encouraging words. Your breathing increased as Halsin set a steady pace, the pain slipping away to endless bouts of pleasure around his thick cock.

The aroma of sex was hot and heavy in the air. Various noises of lust and pleasure were the chorus of sounds in the massive chamber. You’re almost sure everyone throughout the palace could hear you. Perhaps all throughout the city could hear the pleasurable cries of their queen being brought to the brink again and again.

Halsin was huge leaning over both you and Astarion, but he was careful not to rest his whole weight on you. His heat enveloped you, his torso sweating, irises glowing, as a stream of groans and growls erupted from his throat. You felt so full again as his cock hit the areas that made you whimper.

Gale found a chance to lick your clit again, while Wyll came around to leave love marks on the other side of your neck and shoulder after he was done marking your arms and thighs. Astarion was fondling your nipples while he kissed the back of your neck, his cock resting between your ass cheeks.

The Archdruid increased his pace by now, and your pleasurable cries only elevated in volume. He fucked you so well. They all fucked you so well, and yet so different.

Halsin leaned down to kiss you, sloppily, deeply. You could hardly keep up with his mouth as his thrusts reverberated through your body. His movements started to grow erratic, and you moaned loudly into his mouth, feeling a familiar shudder quaking its way down your stomach, over your throbbing core in another burst of ecstasy. Halsin left your lips and tossed his head back as a deep groan erupted from him. Hot fluid spilled into you, and you could feel some of it already leaking out your already stuffed hole as he buried all of himself inside you...

You don’t know how much time passed – a few minutes, an hour? Golden hour had dimmed, sinking past the horizon, but the waning hour of daylight still clung to the sky, gradually losing its battle with the moon. You could hear your heart in your head, steadily slowing down as your back lay atop Halsin now, with the other men huddled so close to you, limbs entangled over one another, slipping over the soft, silky velvet sheets. Your body felt flushed, elated, spent, and achy in all the best ways as you felt something warm still leaking out of your holes, gathering on the cover.

You were being kissed softly, massaged gently, and whispered to lovingly. Several lazy kisses were shared before you rested your head against the Archdruid and allowed them to soothe your body with more kisses.

But at the sight of your ladies making their way to the edge of your bed, you’re reminded of a very important task.

Finding your voice again, slightly breathy but steady, you speak. “My final four, that should be all. Karlach will lead you to the bathing room while my ladies attend to me. But the challenge is complete, and I shall see you again soon...”

Falling immediately back into your orders, the men rise, sweaty and half-dazed with softening cocks. Halsin gently but with ease, raised you from him and then settled you down to his side.

When they were all out of bed, they rolled their shoulders back, then turned to you, bowing. You called out to your personal guard and watched as the mighty barbarian marched toward the group of men. Karlach nodded at you once, ordering the men to follow her. As they ambled past, she looked back at you, shooting a quick wink of approval before following the group out of your chamber.

At your side, Shadowheart had already begun her recovery spells over you while Lae’zel prepared a warm bath in the tub that was set up near the balcony. While it heated, she returned with a sponge and began tapping it between your anus and along the opening of your vagina.

Shadowheart grinned, glancing at you. “You were incredible.”

Lae’zel nodded. “Agreed. You rode the waves in a most admirable way.”

You smirked, quietly thanking them as you closed your eyes, falling into their comforting touches.

“So, do you have a verdict?” Shadowheart inquired, tenderly soothing your muscles.

“Yes, I am most eager to learn who shall be our king.”

“Hmm…” You pondered for a long moment, still feeling so tingly and high off ecstasy. When you opened your eyes, they were both looking at you eagerly. “Would the realm have any qualms against four husbands?”

Pretty sure in all my years of writing, I've never written sex for more than a threesome, so this was a little leap! But I hope you enjoyed! 🥵

Who would you have personally chosen?🤔

[reverieblondie]

What if Gale fell on top of Tav after he got pulled out of the portal? How would he react to realizing he just accidentally got a face full of his savior's- *gets jumped by the horny police*

No! Not the horny police! So I went a bit fluffy for this prompt but I loved this ask for just a cute little something for Gale. Hope you like it! If you want something Smutty for Gale in the future just ask, I'm all ears....

Portal Mishaps

Gale x Fem!Tav

Words- 1,014

First, trapped on the nautiloid, receiving a new tenant in the old cranium was not exactly what Gale had in mind. Then, when the wretched ship started bursting into fire, he thought his luck was finally changing; Gale was finally going to receive a win after what felt like nothing but losses. Then he ended up…in a rock…

All his previous decisions had led to this, and honestly, it was humiliating… He's an archmage of Waterdeep, well versed in the weave, Mystras chosen! Well, Once chosen. Now, here he is in the cold abyss in between tunnels. Could things get worse?  Maybe he shouldn't think that… The fates seem determined to have everything go wrong for him now, so it is best not to make it worse. Maybe it's for the best, a strange divine intervention. Gale knows his time is short, especially since he cannot clench his hunger. So perhaps he can save a lot of people the trouble and erupt within a rock.

So Gale puts his hands to the side and stays in the cold dark, letting it surround him. Letting the thoughts in his mind drift away. Just accepting this…but as he sits, something in him sparks. Gale is not one to take this fate lying down. No, it's not in his nature not to try; even till his last breath, he will fight. So, using what's remaining of his drained magic, he opens a wobbly portal. It's not the prettiest and relatively narrow, but he tries to free himself, pushing his arm through the tingling sparks of magic. He reaches out, trying to grab onto anything to pull him out of these dark depths, but nothing.

Gale continues to search; he just needs something or someone to help pull him free. Then, echoing through the dark, he hears a voice resonating through the portal. This is his chance to get its attention. Quickly, he reaches his hand out, desperately grabbing through the air. 

"A hand? Anyone?!"

Muttering, then that same sweet voice ringing through…

"Just hang on! I will get you out!" 

Soft hands warm him as they grab onto him and start to pull. Whoever his savior is, he vows to thank them endlessly as they never quit trying to pull him out. Their soft voice continues to encourage him that they will not give up and will save him. It's so full of promise and conviction that he feels like he could cry. Please just let him get through this, let him see his savor, let him thank them! Let him live!

With another powerful pull, Gale's body rushes forward; bright light blinds him as he tumbles out. The light is piercing, but he's never been so happy to see the white light; the smell of smoke and nature hits his nose in an overwhelming welcome. Gale has never liked the smell of smoke, but today, it is a welcomed scent he will probably now have a greater appreciation for. Gale falls onto very soft ground, like really soft ground? And it's taking everything in him not to rub his face in it and kiss the dirt benthe him. As Gale goes to inhale the sweet scent of the ground, he pauses,…perfume? And musk?  

Gale's eyes start to refocus, and that's when he sees what he's landed on. When the realization smacks him like a ton of bricks, what he thought could be soft mounds of ground, he sees he's landed right on…breast! 

Quickly, he scrambles to get off you, and apologies fly from his lips. Gale goes to help you up, his cheeks red as his eyes flicker from your breast to your eyes, trying so hard to get past the awkward situation he's found himself in. Gale is trying to explain what happened to you and your two companions, your eyes much more understanding than those of the other two sets, who are suspiciously narrowed at him. Gale introduces himself as he's trying to piece together what's happened. He can't fight how his thoughts are scrambling with how soft you felt, how good you smell, and what if he would have fallen…somewhere else…

Gale mentally chastises himself for his perverted thoughts; gods he's touched starved, isn't he? Two sets of breasts to the face, and he's spiral. The worst part is you are completely pleasant, even apologizing to him about where he landed as if it was somehow your fault. Maybe his luck has changed? He did manage to fall on a very kind stranger who happens to also be in his predicament…

After a brief discussion about your situation and impending doom, Gale offers you two to join up. Judging from the two mysterious tags along with you, he figures you could use a wizard and a cook in your camp. Your face lights up in an excited smile, immediately going to say yes, but the dark-haired girl quickly puts her hand over your mouth, and she and the pale guy pull you two to the side for a huddled conversation. Gale tries to seem like he's not eavesdropping, though he is happy you're saying you all could use a wizard's talents, and you think he's nice? Awe. 

"Seems like a chatty type," the half-elf says;- shit, he is chatty…

"Don't forget he did cop a feel darling…perverted if you ask me…" -Perverted!? It was an accident! 

"Oh, Astarion, hush. You pulled a knife on me. You're no judge of character, and Shadowheart, if you don't want to talk to him, just send him my way." You look over your shoulder and smile at Gale, making his heart skip. I enjoy a good conversation…" 

Coming back over, you accept him in your group, introduce everyone, and start your adventure to look for a healer. Gale will try not to have any more mishaps regarding you, but he is only a man… as he walks beside you, trying to make a conversation, Gale feels someone staring at him. Turning his head, he sees Astarion walking behind him and Tav with a wide, knowing smirk…  

[chronicallyhaughty]

I saw the animated blood elf teaser on Warcraft's twitter last night.

——————————

"What?"

"It's a whole new way of interacting with the runes! Oh-so-elegant, don't you think?" She's earnest, he can tell even with her short ears.

"But it's–" my spell, Aethas finishes the sentence in his mind, but doesn't say. The human woman blinks at him, expectantly. "Nevermind. Can I see it again?"

She hands the scroll back to him, and there it is. Plain as day, down to the flairs on the runes themselves. His idea, his handwriting, his spell.

His mind reels. What does this mean? He spoke to others about this spell, certainly, because he was proud of it. It's a good spell! Elegant, even. He even showed some of his teachers. Is there a name on it?

His eyes land on a signature. "Council of Dalaran". What? He never submitted it for publishing. And certainly not without it bearing his signature. His classmate yelps when he stalks past her, and then she's calling after him, but he can't hear a word she's saying. He can't stop walking now.

The steps up to the Violet Citadel seem endless under the midday sun. Light, protect me.

It occurs to him, as he stands outside of the room where the Council meets with students, that he could be risking something, here. That by making a fuss he could be marked as "troublesome", depending on which of his fellow students stole it. This could perhaps even destroy any hope he has for becoming Archmage in the city, Sunreaver or not. But... it's his spell. And he can prove it. He knocks on the door.

"Enter," calls a bored-sounding, masculine voice.

Aethas does, finding Archmage Ansirem seated by the round table taking up the floor. It's absolutely covered in parchment. So, perhaps it was just a clerical error! Maybe he can get it fixed easily.

"Archmage Ansirem," Aethas says with a polite bow, "I just had this spell brought to my attention."

He spreads the scroll out over a mostly flat part of the table. Archmage Ansirem glances at it, then at Aethas with a wan smile.

"Yes, that. Quite good, isn't it? If you've academic questions, your teachers should be more than adequate–"

"It's my spell." It feels good to say. His voice echoes a bit in the cavernous ceiling.

Archmage Ansirem's smile... thins.

"No. Look at the signature, there: Council of Dalaran. You're mistaken."

Aethas is stunned, again, for the second time in an hour.

"But. I wrote it."

"Based on Dalaran magical principles older than you, boy."

"But it was my idea to shape them like this–"

"You listen to me." Archmage Ansirem slams his hand on the table, making Aethas jump.

"You're an apprentice. You don't own anything you write within these scholarly halls. Listen to yourself, would you deprive everyone of easier runework out of a misguided desire for clout? For status?" After making up these possible motivations – and certainly not projecting, surely – the Archmage leans back in his chair once more, clearly pleased with himself. "Ridiculous. Learn this lesson well, boy: it doesn't matter what your family name is. Nobody will believe you over us. Now get out of my sight."

Standing outside on those steps, mass-produced scroll crumpling in one shaking fist, Aethas thinks that Archmage Ansirem was right about one thing. He will learn this lesson well.

Don't trust the Council.

[valkariel]

Amane's Whimsy

Adapted from Amane Maeve's "Eorzean Whimsy - BLM".

I'm such a fan of their work, and this glamour in particular has a wonderfully color palette and cozy feel for black mage. The weapon choice is also spectacular as those colors are echoed on the pattern of the sleeves and the gems of the skirt. Please check out the original look!

Bonus charm point: The color palette works really well with the Dreadwyrm palette, so I made a couple minor tweaks to work for my character's lore.

Head: Archmage's Petasos - shadow blue / dalamud red Body: Turali Traveler's Shirt - shadow blue / soot black Hands: Spaekona's Wrist Torques - default / default Legs: Spaekona's Skirt - shadow blue / metallic brass Feet: Archeo Kingdom Shoes of Casting - default / default

Earring: Manalis Earrings of Casting Neck: The Emperor's New Necklace Wrists: The Emperor's New Bracelet Right Ring: Epochal Ring of Casting Left Ring: Dreadwyrm Ring of Casting

Main Hand: Anemos Vanargand - default Off Hand: --

Fashion Accessory: -- Minion: -- Mount: -- Location: Kozama'uka - Miyakabek'zoma

Shader: Faeberry Bloom

[fic--writer]

Lollipop

Rolan is too addicted on his magic lollipops. Tav decides to take a risk and exploit this.

Warnings: NSFW! Addicted, Dominance and Submission, Smut.

Additional: a must read if you like tormenting the Archmage as much as I do. Generally the D/S genre isn't my thing, but I had a f*cking dream about this idea. I woke up laughing and couldn't help but write this. Enjoy.

Part 1/3 Part 2/3 Part 3/3 soon

Rolan took the opaque jar. When he didn't hear the familiar rustle of sweets inside, he didn't immediately believe what was happening. He shook the jar properly, then harder, but only a deafening silence echoed back, increasing his alarm.

In his haste he tore off the lid with his claws and tossed it aside. Yes, he was right - the jar was empty. Although he definitely remembered that there was still one more lollipop left there. His favourite, the magic lolly. The one he always enjoyed when work got hard.

Everyone in the tower knew very well that taking the Archmage's sweets, especially without permission, was not only dangerous to one's health, but also to one's life. Everyone in the tower remembered what had happened to the unfortunate elf who had made that mistake.

Everyone knew about it. And yet someone had the nerve to steal his lolly. The last one! Well, who would dare to do such audacity?! Only one creature in the whole damn tower could have the audacity to do such a thing. Only one:

“Taaaaaav!!!”

Rolan screamed at the top of his lungs. His howl shook every wall in the building. He knew that there was no need for an investigation or a detective here. He knew that for sure. Only she was the one who kept looking at his satisfied face when he hid a lolly bar behind his cheek. Besides, Tav was a real rogue - mischievous and unceremonious. She had no sense of propriety or manners. Why would a thief need them? And why had he invited her to work with him...

The Archmage's blood boiled and he sprinted. He ran like a young trotter, sweeping everything in his path with his tail. He looked into every room in search of Tav, and woe betide anyone who got in his way. Rolan pushed, shoved and knocked down every unfortunate creature.

He found her in a small pantry. Tav was standing with his back to him, rearrange, or rather pretending to rearrange, at a supply of parchment on one of the shelves.

"Tav! Look at me" - the Archmage shouted, unable to contain his anger.

She turned slowly, and Rolan's world shrank to a single point. His suspicions were justified. Tav looked him straight in the eye and he heard a crackling sound from her mouth. It was the sound of the lollipop rolling from side to side as it hit her teeth. The lollipop was missing the wand that had penetrated it, Tav had probably just disposed of it ruthlessly.

But what happened next didn't just send Rolan into a violent insanity; this caused a storm of rage in him, comparable, perhaps, to the most destructive power of a volcano.

Tav stuck out her tongue, a red lolly glittering at the tip:

"Have you lost this?" - she said with the intonation of a daring little devil.

"Lost it? You stole it from me! You sneaky bitch, I gave you shelter, I gave you a job..." - Rolan spat out each word as he approached her and rolled up his sleeves.

"Wow, and I saved your red arse from impending doom, or have you forgotten? Choose your expressions."

"You know you're being extremely unwise, don't you? Oh, you probably know that."

He moved close to Tav and grabbed her cheeks, squeezing them with his claws:

"Spit it out now. Be an obedient dog. Return the stolen and maybe you'll stay in one piece."

Why, you may ask, was the Archimage so concerned about a some lollipops? Because they were not ordinary sweets, but magical ones. And only one merchant, almost from the Far Far Away Realm, agreed to supply them to Baldur's Gate from time to time.

Rolan first discovered them in one of the Tower's warehouses, and immediately tried them. The magic of these lollipops was that they could adapt to the needs and moods of the consumer. Perhaps it was a trait of the Tieflings or something else, but Rolan was instantly addicted to them. And now he was paying the price of sixteen rare old folios for one of these little jars. But that did not bother him. The effect they had on him - the ultimate pleasure and explosion of endorphins - was worth every gold, he thought.

"No, that won't do" - Tav muttered, her lips pressed together, "let's play a game and then we'll see."

"Excuse me? How about I hit you with a thunderwave, right here, and just take what's mine?" - Rolan shook her harder and harder, - "Hey! Don't you dare swallow that!"

"Oh no, the The Archmage will not do that. You'd kill or maim me for some stupid candy? Me, the saviour of Baldur's Gate and legend of the Sword Coast? Ha-ha! No, you would never do that, Rolan. Would you? You care so much about your... reputation." - She laughed gruntingly and slapped his hands, struggling.

"I don't care about reputation when it comes to..."

"It comes to what? To your little secret? To your addiction? You know nothing escapes my hawkish gaze."

"Zurgan! When it comes to property rights and basic rules of decency. Civility! Have you heard of it?" - The Archmage's nostrils flared as he jabbed at her with the index finger of his right hand, the other still shake her.

"So remind me, what was it about the rule that made you master of this Ramazite tower?"

Rolan released her abruptly and tapped his horns with claws, a thud sounded. It was the same sound of fingers tapping on a table as they pondered. Sometimes she was unbearable.

He was certain that she had Trickster blood in her veins. One of her distant ancestors had undoubtedly been something more than a mediocre rogue. How else to explain her complete disregard for any rules of conduct in the pursuit of mischief? She manipulated him, she blackmailed him, she used every means of influence at her disposal. Not for nothing had she reminded him that she had saved him and that he had the Tower because of her. Of course, he still had respect for Tav, despite her obnoxious behaviour and endless pressure.

No wonder she had become so close to Astarion in her time. With that amoral vampire with no vector of direction...

"What do you want from me, Tav? What is it this time?" - Rolan pulled himself together as best he could and tried to concentrate, suppressing the urges of his nature. As much as he wanted to outwit she, he knew he would lose this battle. And then he would have nothing to gain.

"Good decision, you see, sometimes you are capable of constructive dialogue after all. Like I said, I want to play a game with you," - Tav straightened and shook himself off.

"Pfft, childish. What shall i do, solve riddles?"

"No, that would be too easy for a prodigy like you. I will ask you to perform actions of a ... various nature. And you'll be an obedient boy. If I see you trying, I'll reward you. And if not, you know, it's not infinite..." - Tav began to suck the lollipop more intensely, clearly demonstrating what would happen.

"Of various nature?" - the Archmage's face crumpled as he imagined the shameful scenes, and the lines on the bridge of his nose became clearly visible. - "Tav, are you sure the worm hasn't damaged your brain? Because..."

"Hey. Hush you, we're playing this game by my rules. Risk insulting me again and you'll end up with a nothing. And if you want the prize, you pay."

"Okay! Come on, speak up faster!" - It was becoming unbearable for him to be around the 'treat' that was so close, but not his. It was like an itch, painfully tickling his insides.

"Good boy! But why aren't you talking to me on your knees? Correct yourself and apologize for all the nasty things you said to me." - the smirk never left Tav's face as she gave the first command.

What an impertinent creature, Rolan thought, but reluctantly knelt before her:

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry? Wow, look at that, the proud mage apologising for the first time. It's not bad. But I respect the spectacularity. Is that any way to apologise to a lady?" - She held out her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Forgive me, Tav, for all I have said to you today." - The Archmage took her hand and kissed it.

"You apologise, but only for today? What happened to the prodigy's memory? And speak to me with respect! I'm your Mistress, not Tav!" - she was definitely getting turned on by this game, she was getting into character and had no intention of stopping.

Rolan glared at her angrily, but obeyed:

"Will my Mistress be so kind as to forgive me for all the unjust words I have spoken to her?" - he kissed her palm once more and gently tapped it against his forehead.

"That's better. Now it's time to show you what happens to obedient toys," - Tav licked her finger sensuously and leisurely and brought it up to the Archmage's face.

Rolan smelled the saliva soaked in the flavour of the magic lolly and was immediately disturbed. He shoved all his ego up his red arse and grabbed her finger in a frenzy, shoving it all the way into his mouth and sucking and swallowing it deliciously, trying not to hurt it with his tiefling fangs.

"Um, I didn't know how much you needed that. Hey, hey, take it easy! If you bite my finger off, the deal's off. Don't be so greedy, remember!"

Rolan licked and smacked for another half minute, forgetting any squeamishness as she tore her finger from him.

"Aren't you forgetting something, kitten? Courtesy? Civility?" - Tav clarified ironically.

"Thank you, my generous Mistress" - he murmured.

Rolan appreciated the treat he was being offered, he saw that cooperation paid off and he was not so intransigent anymore. Of course, Tav took this into account immediately. She realised that she could now manipulate him like her obedient puppet.

^Pardon my punctuation skills. I still suck at it.

[jiubilant]

To the esteemed Arch-Mage Trebonius Artorius, the missive reads in the High Chancellor’s own hand, Guildmaster of Vvardenfell—

“No,” says Wit at once, staring at the parchment through those ridiculous lorgnettes.

Skink-in-Tree’s-Shade has read the missive so many times that he’s memorized the number of imperatives. He smiles. “Go on.”

He watches his friend’s eyes scan, faster and faster, the words that will turn Artorius a handsome puce. Upon receiving this letter, you will step down from your post and grant the title of Arch-Mage to Master Wizard Skink-in-Tree’s-Shade. From this day forward, Skink-in-Tree’s-Shade will handle all Guild matters in Vvardenfell. You may keep the title of Arch-Mage, but you will retire from active participation in the affairs of the Guild.

After that comes Ocato’s vicious signature, and his several et ceteras, and the wings of the Emperor’s seal. When Skink’s certain that his friend is reading the missive over again, rather than laboring nearsightedly with the script, he reaches for it across his tidy desk. “I thought we might open the Shir.”

Wit says, in a strangled voice, “You must step down.”

A pause.

“Perhaps you have misread,” says Skink, his empty hand outstretched. “Artorius must step down. I cite the first line.”

He sees the shiver travel from the other man’s shoulders to the tip of his plumed tail. He lays the missive gently atop Skink’s notes. Then he stands, smashes the lorgnettes against the desk with an animal cry, and stalks out of the room.

He’ll be back within ten minutes. Skink sweeps the twinkling glass into a pile—the handle of the shattered eyeglasses, bent in the middle, glints resentfully at him from the rug—and pours two cups of the deep, sparkling shein from the Shir.

One of his couriers, just yesterday, had intercepted the correspondence and laid it in his silver letter-tray. He’s had time to bask in its contents like a lizard in the sun. He’s also had time to contemplate the dangers to his person that have stirred Wit, the raptor, to hiss and snarl at the apprentices—he can hear the man’s voice echoing down the hall, berating Tusamircil for his grimy retorts. The Guildmaster of Vvardenfell, of course, must concern himself with matters more perilous by far—

Wit bursts back in, feathers abristle, and nearly slams his tail in the door. Eight minutes and a half.

“They’ll kill you,” he snaps, snatching his ruined lorgnettes from the rug. He points them at Skink like an accusing finger.

Skink takes a tranquil sip of shein. “Who will kill me?”

“Who—what—that baboon Artorius!”

“Artorius?” He hates to laugh at poor, bumbling Trebonius. The chuckle escapes him anyway. “How?”

“The Telvanni!”

For years Skink’s walked the wizard-lords’ tightrope as steward of Wolverine Hall, earning their grudging approbation. “Why?”

“Me!”

“You!” He stands to take Wit by the shoulders, looking with affection into his narrow face. “My steady right hand. I have one more task for you.”

The man looks wrathful enough to bite him. “What?”

“Give it to him,” says Skink.

“What?”

“The missive.” Skink smiles at him. “To Artorius.”

The wizards of Vvardenfell’s Guild—every one of them except, perhaps, for Gadar—would break their staves for the privilege of giving Artorius the boot. Skink watches a spasm of mirth, a swift and unwilling reflex, flit across his friend’s face. Then resignation. Then something fragile, almost pleased, that has nothing to do with Artorius at all.

“You're a fool,” he grumbles, and reaches for the shein. "Archmage."

[dmkwrites]

cherished

Bloodweave, 625 words, cw none

Just a little musing on why Astarion might tell Gale not to use the crown

Power. You longed for it even as a mortal, in the way those born into privilege often do, as though it were your right to hold the fate of the lesser in the palm of your hand. And so the world seemed to agree with you, your rise through the courts almost a matter of course, until it didn’t, until the Gur reminded you that the only true power resides at the tip of a blade, until your will was crushed mercilessly beneath Cazador’s heel.

For two long centuries, you cowered helpless in the dark, your body not your own, your speech not your own, even your smile not your own. All that you could lay claim to was the endless, gnawing hunger that Cazador would never let you sate, and the burning hatred for him that ate away at your heart. At first you prayed, and when that failed you dreamed, letting your tortured mind float away. The night Cazador carved his infernal script into your skin, you dreamed of flaying him alive and leaving his living corpse to burn in the sun, over and over, until even that fantasy lost all meaning.

Power. That was all you thought of when you met the wizard, chosen of Mystra, archmage of Waterdeep. To have that wrapped around your pinky, you wouldn’t have to fear Cazador, or Gur, or anything. There was a familiar longing in his deep brown eyes, a gnawing emptiness desperate to be filled, a hunger begging to be sated. It would be easy, you thought then, the pattern well worn, the dance you knew off by heart.

And then, as you did two hundred years ago, you stumbled.

It wasn’t the rejection that phased you, though it stung more than you let on. You’d succeeded at more stubborn targets before (don’t think about him don’t remember his name and his sweet shy face not now) and it was just a matter of waiting. He wanted you, after all, you could smell it on him, and he would be all the easier to snare the longer he held himself back. The orb could be managed, you were sure, and if not, well, having a bomb to rival the runepowder tales of old in your back pocket was useful in itself, anyway. And yet, it was the rejection, in a way, the disarming of your usual toolkit, that lead to your downfall. Because eventually, your mask slipped.

It was small, at first. Everyone had grown used to your barbs but you held back with Gale, all honeyed words and light, suggestive touches. But one night, you slipped up, tired, hungry, you made some sarcastic remark you can barely even remember, now. And Gale laughed, and insulted you back, and in spite of yourself, you laughed, too. And suddenly, it wasn’t about the Netheril, or the Absolute, or Mystra, and though even now you cannot admit it, it never truly was. It was about that longing in his eyes that echoed yours, not the vampiric hunger but the emptiness that had eaten away from you before you even knew the name Cazador Szarr. When Gale laughed with you, for a moment, you didn’t feel empty anymore.

Power. That’s what Gale offers you now, your hands clasped tightly in his as he pleads for you to join him. It’s everything you’ve dreamed of, it’s safety, it’s revenge, it’s your right. But as the stars of Elysium dance around you, all you can think of is barbed words around the campfire, of his head resting on your shoulder, the way he smiled when he told you his real name, of wanting to kiss him so badly it ached.

Power. It’s all you ever longed for, until it wasn’t.

[crystalfic]

Archmage's Run

Warning: Minor character death

"Impossible," the Advisor for Magic said regally, turning away from the young man kneeling before him. "You are, at best, twenty-five. The use of magic sadly burns up our best and brightest; none have ever survived past thirty."

 Daren felt the whisper of magic-born intuition, and closed his mouth on the arguments he wanted to make. "My apologies for misspeaking. I meant twenty-six, not thirty-six."

The cruel curl of the Advisor's plump lips was almost, but not quite, obscured by the fall of his grey hair. "You are renowned as the wisest of our magic users, Archmage Daren. I am surprised you would make such a slip."

A cold chill sparked down Daren's spine as the last of the pieces slammed into place.

He knows.

Daren ducked his head, keeping his eyes on the Advisor's feet. "My lord, I am so often deep in the intricacies of spellwork that I frequently forget what day it is."

The Advisor for Magic chuckled warmly, the sound a lie like every one that came out of the man's mouth. "Perhaps that is why you have lived so long, Daren. Your devotion to the academic side of your calling does you credit."

Play along, Daren thought. Make him sure that I know nothing but my books. If he guesses how much I know about the way magic actually works, I'm, dead. "I desire nothing more than the company of my books, my lord. Which is why I wished to speak to you."

"Oh?" The Advisor draped himself in a cushioned chair—the only one in the room—and plucked a candied leaf from the bowl beside it. Candlelight glinted from the man's golden hair, echoing the precious metal that decorated the man's seat.

Daren didn't move. "The books that the Council have been so generous in providing are beginning to strain the shelves. I request that an extension be built to the library, so that we may access them more easily."  

The Advisor chuckled again, and Daren's skin crawled. "A reasonable request, young Archmage. I shall put it to the Council of Advisors. Is that all?"

It wasn't, not in the least, but the Advisor had proved himself to be part of the conspiracy that Daren had wanted to tell him about. "It is, my lord."

The Advisor flicked his hand dismissively. "You may go."

~

Sheena met Daren as he exited the Council Hall, matching his pace step for step. "What did he say?"

Magic keep her from burning, Daren was glad that Sheena understood how precarious their position was. The wrong word out in the open could mean both of them turning to ashes in the next group ritual. "The Advisor agreed to put forward our library extension proposal, so we may be freed from teetering book piles within the year."

Her stride hitched for a brief second, and Daren refused to look at her. Her reply, when it came, was bright with artfully acted relief. "Oh, wonderful! I swear, if I get one more tome falling on my head because someone backed into a stack, I'm going to make them carry the entire pile somewhere safer."

Daren laughed, partly because it was expected and partly at her clever choice of consequences. A magic-user could not be violent, said the Council; those with hot tempers burned out early, spending their rage and their lives in pursuit of magic. He'd seen people vanish into smoke for lesser threats than hitting someone with a heavy book. "Which reminds me, have you finished learning the spell for Unlocking things yet?"

"There's still one bit I'm having trouble with," Sheena said, biting her lip. "It's that complicated part in the middle where the cadence gets out of time with the gestures." Another lie, but a believable one; Sheena had perfected her grasp of the spell at seventeen, not long after he'd first started to suspect that something in the processes of the very magic they wielded was tainted. That one seeming flaw was all that held Sheena back from her own title of Archmage, now that she'd survived until her twenty-first birthday. Archmages died faster than any other rank.

"If the Working Hall is empty, I can help you practice?" Daren suggested. It would be good to be seen in public, toeing the line of the spells taught to every mage.

Sheena shook her head. "Tomlis and Bari and the others are renewing the wards on the city walls today. The Working Hall won't be free until this evening."

Now it was Daren's time to freeze. Tomlis was one of the older Archmages at twenty-four, and one of the few who were aware of Daren's suspicions about how wrong the magic being taught to them was. "We have to stop them."

He broke into a run, Sheena's long legs still carrying her beside him. "Stop a ritual? Daren, you can't!"

Can't, he thought, crushing the tidy grass underfoot as he sprinted towards the Working Hall. Can't. They teach us that rituals cannot be stopped or altered once started. Thin branches cracked and whipped at him as he ploughed through an ornamental bush. Can't. I'm throwing away everything I've been working for. Marble slipped under his feet, the broad steps leading up to the door echoing a warning drumbeat. Can't. It's too late. The Advisor was my last hope, and he is the most corrupt of them all.

He skidded to a halt in front of the Working Hall's doors.

Can't stop.

Perhaps Sheena, too, knew that there was nothing left to lose. The spell of Unlocking was perfect, elegant, and out in the open where the Mirror of Visions could see it. It saved him the power he would otherwise have spent on the spell, her sacrifice meaning that they'd both go down together now.

Too late.

Every mage in the ritual circle was glowing, but only one was smoking, fine grey curls rising from hair and skin to join the fog of incense. Tomlis met Daren's eyes and smiled sadly, the chant still spilling from his mouth.

"Change the ritual!" Daren shouted, his voice nearly lost in the thrum of the spell. "Take out those bits I showed you, the spell is wrong, they're all wrong! Magic doesn't burn you, it's the parts they added that kill you!"

Tomlis's skin glowed redder from underneath, and his face slackened in resigned acceptance. Then, from some unbelievable reserve of strength, he found the power to break the incantation.

"Run."

It was Tomlis's last word. The fire consumed him, turning a living man to ash and smoke in less than a heartbeat.

Backing up, Daren stared at the place his friend had stood mere moments ago. The rest of the circle continued their spellweaving, the magical immolation brushed aside as the commonplace it was.

Fingers, warm and alive, threaded into Daren's, and he felt the belated tingle of magic-born intuition once more. The Council were coming, and their loyal Mage-Guard with them.

"Tomlis was right," Sheena said. "Time to run."

[dent-de-leon]

He’s caged—like a demon. Like an animal. A soul damned over and over; from the Matron’s curse to his own infernal blood, a wretched fate and the wrong family line, the folly of his last fatal mistake—a little trinket shining in the moonlight, a prayer unanswered. 

Was the weight of those chains worth it? 

“It’s just another devil,” an archmage assured him. And Bren is forced to remember all the demons and devils he’d seen since ascending to the city, every creature chained and bound, paraded through the streets for the mages’ entertainment. The way it chilled him to the bone, seeing collars emblazoned with the names and ranks of other wizards, symbols of wealth and status as surely as any finery or crown.

He can’t see what's engraved on the tiefling’s collar, but the cuffs at his wrists and ankles are gold, glinting with jewels and adorned in intricate runes. And it makes Bren's stomach turn, seeing the red eyes branded all over his body—the countless scars he carried—

He starts tugging at the bandages on one arm, nails biting deep into the old fraying rags. Doesn’t think about his own scars still raw and burning, the shards of residuum gleaming just beneath the skin. The pinpricks of pain that never fade. 

In the back of that cage, the tiefling stirs; head frantically tossing and turning, his whole body trembling. Eyes still shut. A nightmare, Bren thinks, knows, can feel it in the pit of his stomach. The anguished, muted cries. The breaths coming too sharp and fast. He’s woken far too many nights in a cold sweat—especially when the scars were still fresh. 

When the tiefling’s tail twitches and lashes, clearly anxious, Bren's heart breaks a bit. 

The Somnovem’s captive was locked away far below the enchanting halls of the Dawn Crucible, one of the greatest wonders of the clandestine, outcast Cognouza Ward. High vaulted ceilings and walls, all luminous with the dancing flicker and flare of an ethereal, azure light—a soft, warm glow suffusing the whole dome. The walls an array of endless shelves, every one overflowing with books and scrolls and tomes as old as memory itself. The threshold crest the crown jewel of it all, a glistening crystal centerpiece to illuminate the whole rotunda in dazzling radiance, a temple worthy of eternity. 

“The birthplace of dreams,” an unnervingly zealous philosopher had promised. Her eyes were hollow, sunken, rimmed with dark circles. Bren wondered how a person could ever love dreaming so much, when they hadn’t slept in weeks—or months. Her magic seemed to spark with a kinetic energy, electric as a live wire. Her voice echoed with a moonstruck fervor, a divine reverence that was surely blasphemy. And wherever Bren turned, he could still sense her unerring gaze.

And here, down below an archive of endless dreams and possibility, the only light was the faint flicker of arcane torches. And Bren was faced with rows of human cages. He tries not to think of all the other prisoners, where they came from or who they were, what horrible misfortune had cost them everything, banished them to the darkest corner of a reigning empire. 

“Why this one?” He can’t help but ask, even as he kicks himself for letting the words slip out. It’s foolish—dangerous. You were never this stupid before, he chides himself, Clever as you are, with things like this—you’re stupid. 

The philosopher, Elatis, smiles warmly. It makes his skin crawl. 

“Of all our research subjects, he has the greatest potential. Within his soul lies the key to eternity,” she said with a wondrous, contented sigh. “We are all of us the enemy to death, to suffering, to grief. But for all the horror she’s wrought, the Matron has also given us the very thing we need. She has planted the seeds, and now it is time to harvest.”

Fate touched, Bren realizes. Forever bound to a fate he could never hope to fight, strung up by the Matron like a puppet, the threads of destiny already woven. A prisoner, a pawn, another doomed soul to be sacrificed for the gods. 

And for an archmage, a soul touched by the divine was a powerful conduit for otherworldly magic. Enslaved like the devils they bent to their will, the very essence of their life siphoned away. Mages bathing in their blood for just a taste of the divine. 

With a whispered word and a wave of her hand, the cage door swung open, and Elatis stepped inside. She moved with a certain grace, as dignified as any noble. And when she knelt at the broken tiefling’s side, reached out a hand to embrace him—her touch was almost gentle. Kind. 

“Shh. Hush, Nonagon. You were destined for this,” Elatis soothes, her voice washing over him in a soft, lilting lullaby. 

She combed back a lock of hair to revel a crimson Eye branding his throat—a voracious hunger reflected in her own haunting stare. 

She beckoned for Bren to join him, and he was helpless to do anything but follow. Gaze pointedly averted as he crossed the threshold, forced himself to enter the tiefling’s prison. He can’t bear to look too closely, to see just how much the poor thing suffered. He could only bite his tongue and shudder, willing himself not to see. 

Beside him, the philosopher kept petting the long, dark locks of the tiefling’s tousled curls. It would have been comforting, perhaps even maternal, if not for the iron bars that caged him, the golden chains that bound him body and soul. 

“Aeor and Zemnias are the last remaining bastions of mortals,” Elatis mourned, her dark, piercing gaze softening for but a moment. “It was good of your master to send you here to learn, to join us in this time of so much war and strife. All are welcome here, in our design. You have but to ask, and we will open your mind to the Dream.”

My master wishes to see you fall, Bren thought darkly, Trent’s words still echoing in his head. “Join them. Learn from them all you can. Aid them, obey them. And steal whatever secrets you find. Bring back a weapon worthy of the Empire, one that can bring an end to Aeor.” 

“The tiefling you chose. He…was he alone when you found him? Has he no family?” The words taste like ash on his tongue, hanging heavy on his heart. Merely speaking them was tantamount to treason; any soul claimed by the gods, bound to their will—in the eyes of Aeor, their lives were already forfeit.

And when Elatis let him rifle through his personal artifacts, all that was confiscated from his person when they bound him in chains, Bren didn’t miss the shining little trinket of a crescent moon. The prayer to the Moonweaver foolishly scribbled on a bloodstained note. 

Another voice cackled, dark and gleeful. An elven archmage stood on the other side of the bars, teeth far sharper than any elf Bren had ever seen. His skin was a sickly pallor, and his eyes were rimmed by heavy circles just as dark and deep as Elatis’. 

When Bren looked at him closer, he swore for just a moment the man's eyes turned red.

Culpasi. He had seen the philosopher only in passing, but already loathed his company. 

“Oh, don’t you know where they got him?” The elf asked innocently, his smile sharp as a knife. “Some little troupe of traveling performers, in some shithole little town back on Exandria. A happy family of tieflings, putting on plays and nunnery. Quaint and adorable, I’m sure. Well, until someone looked into the caravan, and found out one of the kids was a walking corpse. Parents handed him over to some hag, if you can believe that. And the things they made their other son do, well…let’s just say, he’s far better off in here. Rather lucky we found him, really.” 

“He…struggled, the first few years,” Elatis admitted sadly. “Lashed out whenever someone got too close, afraid of our gifts. But we helped him to forget, the poor dear; opened his mind to the Dreams—cleared his troubled head a bit. And he’s been quite docile and tame ever since.” 

“Lost all the fight in him when we emptied out his thick skull,” Culpasi said, with a knowing grin that made Caleb’s heart twist. 

The way the philosopher looks at him, it’s like he knows, and it makes Bren sick. 

There’s this…hollow emptiness, that lives deep inside him, some vital part that was cut out and carved away. Excising the rot, so the rest of the tree can grow—that’s what they told him, when they took it. When he woke with weeks and months and years just gone, all of it slipping away. He doesn’t remember who Bren Aldrich Eremund was before he boarded his first skyship, the boy who lived in the world below. They took it, when they broke him. Reforged his soul in fire and brimstone, dug deep beneath his skin and tore him up from the inside. 

Did Bren have a family? A home? Did someone miss him, somewhere far below the sky and stars down there? 

Or was he like the tiefling, all alone? Abandoned? Forsaken by family and the gods both. 

From within the cage, a soft, mournful cry echoes. Inhuman, but so innately mortal. Anguished. Heartbroken. The kind of hushed, choked back cries that escaped Caleb in the midst of his own night terrors. 

Bren had seen his victims beg. Had heard the words, alien and distant, discordant—as if submerged deep beneath dark waters, drifting and drowning and fighting for breath. The rest of the world a distant memory. He hears it, sees it, but he’s choking and gasping, can’t move, can’t breathe, pulled under by the current. He suffocates, and everything burns. 

They were traitors, enemies to the Empire, Caleb told himself, chanting the mantra over and over, shutting out the sight of all those fearful eyes and agonized screams. But…if he was ordered to partake in this creature’s torment, to torture this being whose only crime was being born to a wretched fate—

He couldn’t. He couldn’t. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t the enemy, a killer, a poison, a betrayer—

He had a family, Bren thinks, and for some reason, that more than anything breaks him. 

In Elatis’ arms, the sleeping tiefling continues to tremble and shake, thrashing in some subconscious attempt to break free of her grasp, twisting and writhing with a plaintive, desperate cry. “Empty,” he chokes out weakly, voice soft and slurred by sleep. He echoes the word again and again, a breathless litany, a hollow chant of shaking breaths. “Empty. Empty. Empty—” 

“Shh. Come now, dear. No more of that.” 

Elatis runs her hands over a single red Eye, and all at once the tiefling’s shaking body falls still, an eerie, disquieting calm falling over him like a shroud. As another dream claims him, the tiefling smiles faintly, as if finally at peace.  

“W-What did you do?” Bren whispers. 

Elatis pats the boy’s head fondly. “I merely let him have the Dream his heart desires. You see? Through dreams, even the most haunted soul can heal. It is our blessing, a gift—one that we wish to share with the whole world. Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

It’s cruel, Bren thinks. You’ve done nothing but carve out every part of him. You’re toying with him, pulling at his strings just like the Matron. “It certainly seems…useful,” he says, and lets the rest die on his tongue, choking it back like bile. 

Elatis’ smile is purely tranquil, beatific. “Whenever you wish, we will always be there to welcome you home. Now, forgive me, but I must attend to other matters before tonight’s ritual. I look forward to working with you, Bren; I can sense you have a wonderful imagination, one I’m sure will create the loveliest dreams. Sleep well.” 

She glided down the dark corridor, humming a soft, soothing melody as she disappeared into the dungeons’ depths. 

Culpasi made to follow her, but not before getting far too close for Bren’s liking, and resting a deathly cold hand on his shoulder. 

“A word of advice, friend,” he said, still smiling bright. “Maybe don’t do anything stupid, alright? I mean, really—letting a wild animal out of its cage? What do you think will happen?” 

Before Bren could stammer out that he had no idea what the mage was going on about, the elf turned on his heel, and vanished in a cloud of burning smoke. 

As the searing heat and choking taste of ash began to fade, Bren stood alone. There was only the darkness, the cage—and the hollow, empty soul who laid still before him. A sudden impulse seized him, desperate and foolish. Suicidal. What the hell are you thinking, Eremund? What in the world are you doing? He was reaching out to the tiefling before he could stop himself, acting on sheer instinct, compelled by some force more powerful than any charm or curse. 

Bren’s hand hovered above him uncertainly, hanging over the tiefling’s shoulder for but a moment. Verdammt. In a snap decision, he shook the tiefling roughly, enough to wake him from the mage’s spell.

“Hey! You—ah, you are, the traveling player, ja? From the little caravan troupe? Do you remember?”

The creature stirred from twisting dreams, tossing and turning as his tail lashed with every shaking breath. Bleary eyes blinked open wide amidst the charm induced haze, peering out fearfully into the darkness, glowing with a feral light. Eyes as red as the brands upon his skin, but…softer. Full of longing. 

Though Bren’s words didn’t seem to reach him, there was a waking intelligence in his piercing crimson gaze, the stirring remnants of a soul that had not yet been broken.

“Can…can you hear me?” Bren whispered softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, looking him in the eyes. Bearing a part of his heart he had long since buried. “I…I feel empty too. I know what it is, what they did to you…And I swear, I—I won’t hurt you.” 

A flash of fear flickers in those hollow, empty eyes, a brief spark of something in that vacant, glassy stare. You’re in there, somewhere, Bren thinks, latching onto it like a lifeline, seizing that single thread of fading consciousness. Reaches out and pulls until it all unravels. 

“You don’t want to die down here, do you?” He whispers, bending down to gaze right into the tiefling’s burning carmine eyes. “You want to live.” 

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

My Warden is a genuine all around POS and bastard, but he names all of his mabari after cities and places and I love that for him.

*Tagar* who he found in Ostagar.

*Dinah* for Denerim.

*Amar* for Amaranthine.

Yeah he’s probably the most violent and unrepentant person in my world state, but he’s also a desperately frightened little elven boy who never really left his tower. Why shouldn’t he name puppies after places? Nerd.

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us chapter 21 - Water Under the Bridge

AO3 || Tumblr Masterlist

Hey y'all! Got this one out within the month omg! Heheh. I had to split this chapter and the last one so ya know, faster updates.

Credits for the inspiration go to @cheesy-cryptid ❤️ thanks for reading and reblogging my fic. You have no idea what it means to me that you like this work based on your wonderful art ❤️

Thanks as always goes to my besties @tragedybunny @micropoe10 and @mj-bites for hyping me up and being there for me when I feel sad. I love you guys.

Well, lemme know what you all think, I'm excited to start this new arc in the fic!

Following behind Octavia, Astarion can hear an echo of mixed murmured greetings. Stepping through the tall arch leading to the atrium, Astarion can make out Gale and Octavia’s voices cutting clearly through.

The two new voices peppered in between hushed responses. One slightly high pitched, breathy with an upward inflection; the other rich and haughty, deep and deliberate.

Astarion rounds the corner into the atrium, where four faces turn to look at him. Two of them were familiar to him, but the others were brand new.

Gale is standing beside a human woman with a long blonde high ponytail, adorned with a white bow. She had a big smile and bright hazel eyes. She wore a pink halter dress which hit mid thigh. At the hem of her dress was a glittery pink ostrich feather trim, her small stature elongated by the strappy white platform heels she wore.

To her left was a taller tiefling, deep maroon skinned with shoulder length black hair which was tied in a loose half up styling. His horns were curled slightly upwards, shiny dark blue almost black.

He stood at least two heads above the woman at his side, his tail lazily wrapped around her ankle. The eyes that turned to look towards Astarion were bright orange with yellow rings, surrounded by black scleras.

He wore black and purple robes which were embellished by silvery designs around the edges. Clearly this couple was of means and were not afraid to flaunt it. Astarion thinks back to his past life, where these two would've been perfect to pilfer from.

“There he is!” Gale steps forward, pulling Astarion closer to the small group gathered at the center of the room. “Astarion Ancunin, meet my sister, Athena Sofia Morena Dekarios, and her fiance, Sirilius Szerban Amarzian.”

Athena steps forward first, extending her dainty tanned hand, the iridescent stone of her engagement ring glinted off the artificial light coming from the ceiling. Her nails were pointed and long, painted a light pink nude color.

Astarion can't help but remark on the ostentatious bauble encircling her finger. “Oh my, what a beautiful ring. Almost as breathtaking as the one wearing it.” He raises her hand, pretending to admire the ring before releasing it. “Clearly the one who gifted it has impeccable taste. Which is why I am not surprised that you both wish to have your nuptials and celebrations in our prestigious halls and gardens.”

Astarion turns to Sirilius, smiling wide, and extending his hand, “A pleasure to make the acquaintance of an Archimage as esteemed as yourself, Master Amarzian. I trust my museum is to your liking?”

Sirilius is poised the way only an Archmage can, he stands up straight with his hands clasped behind him, face completely void of any emotion other than complete contempt for anyone he felt was below him.

With Astarion, though, he eased into a pretentious riposte. He takes Astarion’s hand into both of his, clasping them together and shaking it enthusiastically.

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Ancunin. Your breathtaking museum was the only place I could think of to fulfill the dreams of my beloved Athena, and marry her under the blessed watch of her dear grandfather.”

Sirilius turns to Athena, wrapping an arm around her waist pulling her close to his side; in return she bats her eyelashes at him, swooning into his embrace. “I would want nothing less for my queen, so when Gale graciously offered to speak to you for us, I was surprised! To think our little prodigy has this type of pull!”

Astarion is displeased at the sheer notion of someone speaking down to Gale let alone someone who is supposed to be marrying his sister. Astarion’s eyes dart back to Gale, whose hands are balled up into fists at his sides. Astarion could tell he was trying to keep his composure and struggling.

Meanwhile, Astarion hadn't noticed that Sirilius was still speaking “...we were thinking about around 250 people? My darling’s got quite a lively family and I wish to be able to accommodate them all. I imagine we will have no issues as Gale mentioned? He did promise that Athena would be most pleased…”

Sirilius turns around and glares at Gale, his tone of voice turns low and stern, “We had better not disappoint anyone in the family again, right, Gale?”

Astarion glances back at Sirilius’s smug face, he has to be professional for Gale’s sake.

The haughty tiefling continues on, “I should be glad we have two other people to make sure you're not getting distracted by anything. Why don't we give you an easy job to do instead? I guess we do need to find a suitable caterer or a florist… Perhaps that way it would be less of a disaster if your tasks were as mundane as you?”

Sirilius’s boisterous critique of Gale seemed like it was crafted to point out every flaw and small indiscretion for only those with familial knowledge of their feud. His teardown of Gale ended with a pointed tension that could be cut with a knife.

The entire group was staring between Gale and Sirius, both men were glaring at each other with daggers shooting out of their eyes. Astarion was about to cut in when an angry bride cleared her throat loudly.

The entire group slowly gazed towards Athena, her body language clearly showing her displeasure. She shakes her head and begins to speak in a low, deep, furious whisper.

“I cannot believe you right now. You promised you would give Gale a chance, and you're doing this? How dare you speak to my brother like that? After all the trouble he's gone through to speak to his boss about this event that we are both trying to put on and show everyone in Waterdeep that our families are a united front? After I very thoroughly explained to you how important it was to me that you got on with my brother how you used to? Sirilius Szerban, I would expect you to behave yourself for once. Apologize. Now."

Athena stood with her arms crossed, one eyebrow furiously quirked upwards, the most unamused frown on her cherry lips. Her voice, once a sweet crepitation, turned deep, croaky, and stilted. “WELL? What are you waiting for? Permission??” Her head shakes with an indignant attitude, her hazel eyes stared unblinking, and her lips pursed tight.

Sirilius looks around him, and is greeted with indifference from those witnessing her outburst. He straightens his posture, worrying his lip and grimacing. His eyes grow wide and a dark blush creeps up on his cheeks. He swallows thickly and laughs nervously. “My sweetness, I simply meant-”

“Sirilius…do not test me.” Athena’s glare burns into him, radiating her displeasure with him to the entire room. Her mouth twists into a hysterical smirk, voice saccharine and direct. “Go on, Siri. You don't want to upset me, right?”

Sirilius’s brows shoot up in pleading defense, then waver. Groaning and looking upwards, he rolls his eyes, turning to Gale. Through gritted teeth, he strains through a half hearted apology.

“Gale, I..am sorry for being unfair to you. Athena is correct, I said I would put the past in the past and give you a chance…. but that does not mean-”

“SIRI! Choose your next words carefully.” Athena’s fury was on full display, her shorter frame not detering her from making Sirilius shrink under her venomous tongue.

Sirilius’s lips thinned, his throat visibly tightened, he nods before speaking in a much calmer tone “but that does not mean that I cannot extend my deepest and sincerest hope that you and I can return to a civil relationship. Not just for my sake but for the sake of our families.

Your mother has made it abundantly clear that she wishes for Athena and you to have the unbreakable bond you once shared. I hope that my marrying her has not caused you distress. I do love her, with all my heart, and I pledge to make her the happiest wife I can. Please forgive me for my past immaturity.”

Sirilius bows his head and rigidly stands up. Athena is glowing and glancing between Gale and Sirilius in anticipation. When Gale’s eyes meet hers she gives him an expectant head shake.

“Yes, uh, thank you Sirilius. I accept your apology and I wish the same for us. I have indeed missed our comradery. I am eager to repair our bond and move forward with our lives as a family.”

Gale extends his hand towards Sirilius, whose face shows confused hesitancy at the kindness extended to him. Sirilius takes Gale's hand and gives it a firm shake before releasing it and promptly lacing his hands at his back.

Athena squeaks with a triumphant approval, as if her small tantrum was the thing that fixed whatever conflict the two most important men in her life had. She stands up straight, a smug grin grows on her face.

“Well, isn't that lovely.” She claps her hands together and stands in a prideful pose. “I’m so glad the two of you could be mature about this. “Now, if you don't mind, I think you two can show Siri the nicest places for us to have our reception?” Athena directs Gale and Astarion, forcing the three men to group up alone.

“Meanwhile Octavia can show me the gardens.” Athena looks at Octavia and smiles warmly, “I'd really like to go see where Grandfather's section is, it's been years since I've seen the flowers over there.”

“S-sweetheart, I thought you wanted to see the gardens together?” Sirilius cut between Octavia and Athena, grabbing her hand and getting him another icy stare from his bride.

Athena smiles up at him, a sweet smile undercut with her obvious irritation. “Siri..” she warns in a sing-song voice, “you and Gale are just now getting along, it would be rude of you to walk away from this opportunity to fix your relationship.” She slides her hand out of his, placing it at his cheek and caressing it.

“Just do this for me, alright my little devil?” Athena rubs Sirilius’s cheek and turns to face Octavia. “I have been looking forward to meeting you all week! How about we ditch these losers and go check out the pretty flowers?”

Gale and Sirilius protest, both their voices defensively piping up as Athena takes Octavia’s arm, leading her away. “Be good, don't fuck this up!” her squeaky voice calls. She giggles when she's sure she's out of earshot and eyesight, her arm still locked around Octavia’s.

“Those two will be the death of me, I swear. They're probably the most important people in my life and they can't even be fucked to get over their stupid fight. You know, if they actually talked to one another, they might realize they're still as similar as the day they met.” Athena sighs as they walk down the gravel trail.

Octavia mindlessly looks around them, taking in the sunset that hid behind the trees. Letting her curiosity get the better of her, she turns to Athena and asks, “Not to be a gossip or anything…but, what's the real story of what happened between them anyway? I heard Gale’s version, and I'm sure I'll never hear Sirilius’s side.”

Athena giggles with a giddy tilt, “Oh Octavia, I'll always take time to spill some tea about my two favorite guys. What do you want to know?”

Octavia thinks for a moment, not knowing how to ask without opening the biggest can of worms she could imagine. “Is ‘everything’ too broad?”

"There's not enough hours in the day for me to tell you all the juicy details and still have time to go to sleep tonight.” Athena laughs, “I’ll keep it to the main points though.

Yes, they got in a giant fight over some dumb shit. From what I remember, it was about Sirilius calling Gale a ‘pompous, arrogant, know-it-all prick, with a knack for inserting himself into things he doesn't know anything about’.”

Octavia is shocked, she couldn't imagine anyone saying something so cruel to Gale. She keeps quiet, listening to Athena explain further.

“The thing that set Sirilius off was Gale ranting and complaining about our mom scolding him for leaving the kitchen filthy. Sirilius’s parents never paid him any mind, they were always so wrapped up in keeping Sorcerous Sundries running smoothly, that they ignored him and his siblings. When Siri met Gale, they hit it off instantly.

They were always together. I would catch them in Gale's room lighting things on fire with their little fireballs. They'd break mother's figurines and fix them before I could tattle on them. They were like two of the same person, complicated and complimentary.” Athena finishes, in a wistful sigh.

"Wow, sounds like they were pretty deep in their friendship.” Octavia remarks.

“Oh quite so! If I wasn't in the picture you'd think they were the siblings. They were two peas in a pod for as long as I could remember..until that stupid fight and it didn't help that what came after was even worse for the two of them. Both in their friendship and personal lives.”

Athena finishes speaking, turning her head towards the path leading to her grandfather's garden.

“Gale took it incredibly hard when Grandfather passed. Exactly like Grandfather during his year of isolation, Gale retreated from us all, from Siri, from me…I took it very personally. He and I were inseparable just like he and Siri, so when Gale pushed us away, he inevitably pushed us towards each other.”

Octavia watched as Athena walked towards her patriarch, taking in the early evening air as the light breeze blew through the leaves of willow branches that draped Gale’s stone image.

His part of the garden featured a serene pond, full of aquatic plants from Waterdeep. A fitting memorial for the wizard who loved his home.

“What Gale didn't know is that Siri’s parents had split up in the weeks before their fight. Siri was so angry at everything, everyone, and to hear Gale complain about a parent that was there to be mad at, well…something within him went off and could never go back.” Athena spoke slowly, making sure Octavia took in the seriousness of what was being shared.

Athena and Octavia sit under the giant canopy of leaves, on an iron bench that sat at the edge of the lily peppered pond. “I worry for Gale sometimes.” Athena speaks in a hush, eyes locked onto the statue of her treasured grandfather.

“He works too hard and he's always spending time alone. I don't want him to isolate himself again. I'm hopeful that the wedding will bring us together again though, he's all I have, really. Mum was always too preoccupied with our status as a prominent family to really get to know us like we knew each other. I hope he finds someone that he loves like I love Sirilius. Do you have someone like that, Octavia?”

Athena turns to Octavia, waiting for her answer. Octavia hesitates, not knowing where she and Astarion stood currently. “Uh..well, I am seeing someone, but I'm not really sure where our relationship lies at the moment.”

Octavia watches as some ducks land on the water, their swimming causing small ripples to flow around.

“Well, do you want it to be more? Do they know what your intentions are? Maybe you should talk to them, you know, rip off the bandage in a way?” Athena replies, “How will you know what the future holds if you don't say anything?”

“It’s extremely complicated.” Octavia sighs, she picks up a rock next to her and skips it along the water. The ducks fly away as the rock hits a lily pad on the opposite side of the pond. “We’re in a bit of a weird spot right now. I found out some stuff about his past that's kind of shaken me.”

Athena’s eyebrows shoot up, a small frown appears on her lips. “Oh, well, that's not good. Would you like to talk about it? We don't have to if you don't want to, of course.” Octavia was hesitant, but there was something comforting about Athena that she couldn't explain.

Perhaps it was Athena’s sisterly instincts kicking in, maybe it was genuine compassion, but Octavia sensed that Athena was trustworthy.

“I uh…well…to put it simply, the guy I'm seeing has some type of history with a…cousin..of mine? They used to date a long time ago, and I found out through reading it in an old journal that my cousin hid in my dad’s attic. It all happened before he and I knew the other existed..and it..”

Octavia hesitates before swallowing the huge lump in her throat and continuing. “It ended really horribly. It ended so horribly she left and never came back…well that happened after he just up and left her. Now I find myself falling for him and being terrified of the same thing happening to us. What can I do to prevent it? Can I even?”

Octavia sighs feeling the heaviness in her heart grow, she hears the soft gasp that came from Athena, not knowing whether she should say any more. “I’m sorry, Octavia. That sounds rough. But you did say that this happened a long time ago? Well, in that time he could have grown and changed. People go through stuff and come out the other side differently.”

Octavia thinks for a moment before answering. “Yeah, it happened a very long time ago, feels like decades…honestly I don't even know why I care so much, it's not my drama to deal with, and I don't know if I should dig things back up again. I'm afraid I'll ruin a good thing.”

“Is that what you want?” Athena asks, “Maybe this guy just needs someone to help him process all the stuff that happened in the past? What if he just needs someone to listen to him and help him move on? Take Sirilius for example.”

Athena pats Octavia’s arm before turning back to gaze at the calmly swaying boughs of willow branches. “The whole show Sirilius puts on of being the stoic archmage is all bullshit. He's a huge softie.”

Octavia can't help but be bewildered at the notion of someone as serious appearing as Sirilius being any type of emotional. The man she met in the atrium radiated pure irritation at the world around him.

Athena smiles, as if knowing what the look on Octavia’s face was getting at. “Yes, I know, it's hard to picture, but it took Sirilius a very long time to finally open up and express himself to me. When he and Gale were really close, I didn't really care for him. To me, he was just another one of my little brother's annoying friends.”

Octavia fails to suppress a laugh, Athena joins in and continues, “After he and Gale had their falling out, Gale did not handle it well. Not to mention Grandfather’s passing all happening in the same season. He was just pushing me away, and I was not handling it well.

Sirilius caught me crying underneath one of the trees behind Blackstaff. I was just so overwhelmed and sad, I didn't think anyone would catch me. He sat with me and talked with me, shared his own hardships, eventually we grew closer. Until one day, when we were sitting under the same tree, he kissed me.”

Athena’s grin grew wide as she sighed contentedly, a faint blush dappled her cheeks. Octavia wondered how her friend reacted to this revelation. “What about Gale? How did he find out?”

Athena squeaks in surprise and giggles with a high tilt, “Oh skipping to the juicy part huh?? Okay, I love telling this story, mostly around Gale though, because he gets all embarrassed about it! Anyway, Gale caught Siri and I kissing when I was sneaking back into my room one night.

I was at the base of the trellis behind our house, Gale was taking some trash out and I heard him drop the bag. He ended up spilling all the trash out and I had to help him gather it up so our mother wouldn't yell at us. I begged him not only to not be mad at me, but not snitch on me for sneaking out. He only refrained from snitching.”

Octavia could see the conflict in Athena’s eyes. It must have been hard to fall out with your sibling, but to fall into the arms of their former friend? He must've felt utterly betrayed. “How mad was he? I've never seen him angry before so I'm having a hard time picturing him upset like that.”

“Oh he refused to speak more than one word to me. Mother and Father would try to get him to, but he refused. It was like that for almost a tenday. Eventually he came to me and apologized. Said that if Sirilius made me happy that he couldn't stop me, but he would never forgive Sirilius for the things he said. They haven't spoken a word to each other until today.

Gale doesn't know this, but Siri has told me that he wants to make amends and try to repair their friendship. As stubborn as they both are, they were inseparable. I’d love to make up for my own selfishness when it comes to my relationship in general. I was so lonely, and Siri was going through his own shit.

His parents were splitting up and of course, they put him and his siblings in the middle of it. Siri was just frustrated with everything, so hearing Gale complain about our family when his own was falling apart sent Siri over the edge and out of Gale’s life. They were young. Mistakes were made. So this is why I'm telling you, give that guy a second chance. People are capable of changing.”

Athena wasn't much older than Octavia, but Athena’s wise words soothed Octavia’s fears and sent hope into the doubtful depths of her heart. Octavia glances back at the grounds of the museum, which are quickly darkening under the orange skies. Her new friend checks her wristwatch, noticing the same warm glow fading.

��We should head back, the guys are probably tearing each other's heads off at this point.” Athena stands and fixes her skirt, the tight fabric relaxing as she wiggles it down. “You know Siri warned me not to wear this outfit, but it was too cute not to.”

Octavia notices the shimmery fabric that accentuated Athena’s small frame as the light from the lanterns comes on illuminating the path back to the museum. “It’s really sparkly, I can see why you didn’t listen to him.” She laughs as Athena lifts her head proudly.

“It’s like my mother says, ‘if you're going to represent one of the most prestigious houses in Waterdeep, you have to flaunt it wherever you go.’ I never leave the house without looking my best. It annoys Siri to high heaven, but I know what I like and he appreciates it.” Athena ends with a saucy wink.

They walk and talk for a bit before they get to the hallway leading to Gale and Octavia’s shared office. Octavia turns to Athena and speaks softly, “Thank you, by the way. You've given me a lot to think about today, in terms of what I want out of my situation. I really appreciate it.”

Athena smiles back at Octavia and suddenly wraps her arms around the other woman. Octavia is surprised, but returns the hug. As Athena pulls away, her hand gives Octavia’s arm a squeeze. “You'll be okay, Octavia. Love is hard, but it's a choice we make, and it's the most rewarding thing. Let it in, let it heal you.”

The two women walk through the door and see Astation and Gale, Sirilius is noticeably absent.

Athena looks around and takes a seat across from Gale on Octavia’s chair. Astarion is laying on the soft couch on the wall beside the door, his long legs hang off the armrest. When Octavia walks in, he quickly gets up and slides over, allowing her to join him.

“Gale, was my future husband nice to you after I left?” Athena asks, her fingers knitting underneath her chin.

Gale laughs a bit and nervously looks away. Athena straightens up suspiciously, her eyes narrow and her eyebrows quirks. In a warning tone she responds, “Gaaaale…”

“Oh gods, I can't lie to you. Yes, he was fine. We actually ended up agreeing upon some places for you two to have some pictures taken, would you like to see them before our dinner reservation with him? He left about an hour ago to check out Sorcerous Sundries to say hi to his Aunt Caliope.” Gale quickly explains, and stands up to leave.

Athena stands and turns to Octavia, noticing Astatrion’s arm around her. She smiles and sways a bit, “I hope you have a good night Octavia, give what we talked about a lot of thought. I can tell that someone is very much willing to reciprocate.”

With a wink, she turns to Gale and pulls him towards the door, “Let's go little bro, I’m really hungry and Siri said the place we’re going to is really good! Bye, Octavia! Thanks again for the tour!”

She leaves the room, with Gale following soon after. Octavia and Astarion are finally alone.

“Oh no, looks like I got you all to myself.” Astarion tantalizingly drawls. The arm that lingered behind her moved down to wrap itself around her shoulder, drawing her closer.

Octavia turns her head to face Astarion, his dark red eyes burn into her and make ice run down her spine at the same time. The passion and longing that he displayed earlier in the hallway still deep within his gaze.

“So you mentioned something about going out tonight? Someplace close…” Astarion leans into Octavia’s neck, she feels the cool breath dancing on her skin. “I know someplace really close…” his hand begins to slide itself up her leg, dragging his blunt nails on her thighs.

“Astarion…” Octavia breathes out, “some of us do actually need food to survive.” She sighs out a soft laugh, guiding his hand off her lap.

“Take me to get some dinner, and maybe we can come back for some dessert.” her voice drops to a seductive purr, sending Astarion’s eyebrows up to his forehead.

“It's not too far, just a little hole in the wall that I used to go to when I was looking for work around here. It doesn't have blood, but their coffee is really good.” Octavia suggests with a giggle. Astarion is staring at her with a dreamy glance, his eyes sparkling with affection.

“I’ll go wherever you go, Octavia. I know you won't lead me astray. Well…no more than I already do by myself.” Astarion laughs softly as he presses his lips to Octavia’s. He feels the little flutters of her pulse as he deepens their kiss, the way her breath catches, and her quiet gasps.

Astarion could go further, but he has to restrain himself. Octavia’s eyes open slowly, her lips are puckered still, the lower one wavers a bit before she exhales and smiles. “Oh…what was that for?”

Octavia’s eyes sparkle as they look up at him in anticipation. Astarion had to hold himself back, the way he felt for her wanted to burst out and make itself known, not yet though. Soon.

“Before dinner treat? Preview of events to come? Take your pick.” He smiles, fangs slightly poking out of his mouth. Octavia swallows, the warmth in her cheeks lowers to her stomach. She feels the comfortable haze of Astarion’s charms working on her.

As the wonderful feeling settles, Astarion leans in to kiss Octavia again; when a loud grumble noise comes from between them.

Octavia blushes immediately and lets out an embarrassed giggle. “Oh, I guess I really am hungry. Sorry to kill the mood.”

Astarion smiles and caresses Octavia’s cheek,

“Well, let's get some food then, darling. How do waffles sound?”

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @davenswitcher @wayward-hel

@hereliesblackdragon @misscrissfemmefatale

[shewolfofvilnius]

Happy Birthday, Gale

Gale x Lia - short little ficlet set approx. six months after my fic Wild Magic.

PG rated. Just fluff for days. Warning: This fic spoils several plot points of Act 3 of the Fic (their relationship status, a sub-plot involving the orphans Halsin didn't/couldn't take, and the fate of Sorcerous Sundries, Ramazith's Tower, and fate of Lia's magic, which hasn't actually been published yet. But I had this story in my head and I wanted it told.

The mid-afternoon early summer light poured in through the large stained-glass window of Sorcerous Sundries. The clangs and whirrs of several automatons echoed through the stone and brass atrium.  Several illusions were stationed about the room, each based on the default form for shapeshifting that the store’s proprietor had learned.

In an office on the upper level overlooking the space, the human man at the desk, Gale Dekarios, had sat aside several books to clear space. As he pushed a few strands of hair - dark brown broken up by the occasional gray – away from his eyes, his attention refocused on the tiefling in front of him.  The proprietor of Sorcerous Sundries, his protégé in the study of magic, and most importantly – his fiancée. 

Lia wore a mischievous grin on her face as she clutched a small bag of holding tightly.  “C’mon Gale, it’s an old family tradition of ours. You get your birthday presents once you guess what they are.  Gods, Cal and I used to torture Rolan with this for hours.”

The slight glistening of her eyes at the mention of her brothers was an obvious ploy for pity upon her, and he was a willing patsy. It had been months since her elder brother Rolan had handed over the title of Archmage for Gale and Lia to share and gone to become Archmage and Senior Librarian in the rebuilt Reithwin; months since her twin brother Cal had gone to the Astral Plane with Lae’zel in order to help with the latter’s ‘New Paradigm’; if Cal could broker peace between Rolan and Lia, then helping bring peace between Githyanki, Githzerai, and istik like himself should be child’s play.

Gale knew that Lia missed them, and much as his love for the unfettered acquisition of knowledge caused him to have a distaste for guessing games, his love for Lia was far stronger and far more resolute.  They were getting married, after all. 

A smile crept across his face as Lia looked at him hopefully. “Is there a book?”

Lia’s eyes shot open with joy. He’d bought in.  “Of course there’s a book, you dummy. I’m getting married to a wizard; I’ve lived with one since I was a kid, I know how this goes.  WHAT book, Gale?”

He was incredulous, if playful. “What book? Lia there are thousands of titles in circulation. Fiction, nonfiction, research, adventure, comedy, romance.”  Lia teased him with a smile.  “Guess you’d better get to guessing, then.”

What book was Gale most excited for.  The former archer turned sorceress was incredibly perceptive, this would be a book with significance and meaning. Perhaps something with a personal connection.  She also had a distaste for nonfiction that had frustrated him to no end.  “Wait…they’re putting out a sequel to…Lia do not tell me it’s Sanudrel and the Lapis Lazuli of Beyond.”

Lia screamed on the inside, though the shouting only manifested physically as a twitch of the eye. “You looked! Cheat!”  Lia playfully and lightly hit Gale on the shoulder, causing the wizard to play act a grievous injury. 

“Excuse you, I most certainly am not. However, I recalled having told you of the import that the first book had upon my desire to ensure you knew how I felt, and my dissatisfaction with the original ending.  Both us and the book, to be clear.  I’ve heard that the hero in this second edition gets a chance to revisit that inn.  Hopefully our titular hero makes a better choice this time.”

“I just want to know what the ‘Lapis Lazuli of Beyond’ Lia noted with curiosity as she handed the book to Gale. The book was wrapped with a purple satin ribbon with gold trim that came to ends in a somewhat hastily tied bow.  Gale noticed the slightly…irregular…bow almost immediately. 

A sudden bashfulness crept across Lia’s face. “You try tying a bow with claws sometime, Gale.”

Gale looked at the bow with admiration, then pulled Lia’s right hand into his own.  In a single gesture, Gale bent down and kissed her upon the hands.  “I find your touch quite delightful I’ll have you recall. The book itself is exactly what I’d been hoping to read. The gift, the bow, and yourself are all lovely. Just to assuage my curiosity, are there other gifts as well?”

“Oh, most definitely.”  For almost an hour, the two went back and forth as Gale managed to identify gifts.  A new robe – perfectly tailored, thanks to measurements Lia had snuck. A set of cookware, as she knew it was his other passion and that he had found their existing implements – largely inherited after the death of Lorroakan – insufficient. A set of scented oils and soaps. A handwritten set of recipe cards that Lia had obtained from Bex; Gale had wanted to experiment more with baking. That left just three gifts, according to Lia, yet Gale struggled to see where any others might be stored.

“Alright, time for the grand prize.  The last three presents go together.”

Gale tried to discern how three presents could ‘go together’. Three components to a spell or charm? A staff that needed to be assembled? Perhaps they were thematically united?  Gale began nervously eyeing the clock, eyes darting back and forth with each pendulum swing. Mattis, Mirkon, and Silfy would arrive storming into the store in minutes.  

“I see you there.  Trying to beat the clock before the kids get back?”

Gale’s quiet laugh set Lia’s heart slightly aflutter. Their lives had been utterly reshaped, both during the Absolute Crisis and now a year removed from it.  The two had had custody of the three orphaned refugee kids that Lia had once traveled from Elturel with for several months now.   “Proudest thing I’ve ever been involved in, helping bring up those three kids with you.  Gods know we could use the occasional bit of privacy, though.” Lia’s eyes opened with a confirmatory look.  “Wait…privacy? Lia, what have you done?”

“Nothing dramatic, but I know that having the three of them around’s been a lot, even for me. Figured maybe you and me could use some alone time.  Soooo….”

“Lia, what have you done?” Gale asked, the accusatory words giving way to the playful and flirtatious tone in which he said them.

“Oooh you ARE close.  I got Alfira and Lakrissa to agree to watch them for a few days.  Set up a little trip to Waterdeep, since we’re both attuned to the portals thanks to that mess with Shar. I knew you were missing home, and it’ll be good for me to get away a bit too. You can finally show me the ‘City of Splendours’ you keep talking about. Besides, you still have your tower there as far as I know, won’t even have to pay for lodging.”

“Lia, that’s incredible. My, there’s a small breakfast place near Blackstaff Academy we absolutely must try.  Nevermind the sunset from my balcony. 

But wait…you said three presents. Childcare is one, sharing my longtime home city is the second, but what’s the third?”

Lia gave him a supremely flirtatious look, enough to make Gale’s heart beat like a thunderwave. Enough to make the trousers underneath his tunic suddenly uncomfortable. Lia noticed the slight shift in Gale’s posture and material of his outfit. “Correct again, Gale.  Looks like you just figured out what the last present will be.”

As the sound of three young voices suddenly began to fill the air from the shop’s atrium, Lia pulled in Gale for a kiss.  The young voices grew closer as the lovers held the kiss. Finally, they pulled apart. “Just a little preview of your other present. Happy birthday."

[rainbowcaleb]

its almost midnight, have a ficlet I wrote in a sprint tonight for fun

“This is so unfair.” Jester pouts, and her duplicate stamps her foot in consensus. “We’ve only just met and you’re already leaving! Why do all the fun people never stay around long enough to party with us?”

“And you haven’t really partied until you’ve invited me.” The faun grins, then she tilts her head in sudden thought. Her hand plays with the flowers in her hair, half-braiding and half-tangling as she thinks. “I have an idea, someone would owe her a big favor if we call again so soon, but she does love me so very much, so maybe…”

Jester watches with great interest as her new friend Fearne trails off. Then suddenly her hand shoots out and a glowing lollipop appears. She wields the spectral handle and bonks the figure on the ground with an echoing smack.

“Ha!” Fearne leaps back and laughs in surprise and mirth. “Shoot, I wasn’t paying attention. Was he trying to escape?”

Jester prods the red robed figure with her stick, which results in a quiet groan. Underneath the layers of brassy chains and fifty feet of rope, there is the extremely defeated body of a former archmage. 

“He was twitching, but I dealt with it.” Jester blows on the top of the weapon, striking a pose like a gunslinger. 

“Oh my goodness, Jester, I love your style.” Fearne claps her hands. “That decides it. I’m going to call my Nana and she can help us out. Have you and your friends ever traveled to the fey realm before?”

Jester lets out a shriek that rivals some nearby birds. “Oh my gosh, oh Fearne, I mean I had assumed from your whole deal you were fey, but it’s always rude to assume you know, but gosh I would love to go back! Artie took me once but it was over so fast and barely a fun trip at all.” Jester grabs Fearne’s hands and they start to spin, trodding over the robed figure with heels and hoofs. 

“This is going to be the *best* party! My Nana has a tiki bar and a skin garden and there’s even slides on the outside of the house! You’re going to love it!”

Jester and Fearne laugh and dance for a couple minutes before a loud cough comes from beside them.

“Jester, light of my life, I hate to interrupt whatever this is…” Fjord waves with his one good arm, the other still in the temporary bandages. The archmage and his ensemble hadn’t been the easiest to take down, even with the Bells help.

“Oh, Admiral Tusktooth!” She skips towards him and leans into his arms. He winces but smiles fondly at her. “We’re going on a honeymoon!”

~*~*~

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Nana Morri slides a second platter of biscuits and finger sandwiches onto the table. “Try the lavender, I pick it locally.” The second Nana gestures its eyes to the purple confection on the plate.

Jester picks one up and eats it whole in one enthusiastic bite. “Whoa, it's so buttery and floral? I thought I had tried every sweet in the world already but this is totally new. It might even be good with cinnamon, have you ever tried?”

Fearne takes a daisy shaped shortbread and puts it on like a ring. “Take a sip of the drink too, you wouldn’t think lemonmilk whiskey would work, but everything Nana whips up at the tiki bar is just so, so good.”

“I know someone who really should take a sip.” She scoots her chair around to face the side better. “Isn’t that right Lewdie Loo? Would Lewdie Loo like a sippy?” She flicks the archmage on the forehead but he doesn’t move, the lump to his head having knocked him unconscious. 

“I still think this is a terrible idea.” Fjord mutters. Caleb hmms in agreement, his eyes not leaving the robed mage. 

Jester and Fearne’s head both snap to look at the recently dubbed 'boy’s table' in the garden yard. 

“What was that, my husband?” Jester asks.

“I said he’s a terrible honeymoon guest!” Fjord holds up his cup, mimicking a clink in Jester’s direction. 

“He’s totally right.” Fearne sighs. “What a party pooper!”

Jester puts the cup back on the table, eyeing up Ludinus. “You think Lewdie Loo would like a slide?”

Fjord hears that and gently knocks his elbow into Caleb’s side. “I know this is probably... a lot. You don’t have to be here for this.” 

Caleb considers this, eyes still narrowed on Ludinus. “How long is the slide, the faun said?”

“The height of the whole house.” 

“And it empties into the swamp behind the house that she said ‘was probably full of faerie poo and leftovers from the skin garden'?”

“That’s what she said if you believe it.”

Caleb nodded once and then stood up. “I have decided I definitely want to be here for this.”