#astarion x ferelith | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dragonswithjetpacks · 1 year ago

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Fall Around

-dragonswithjetpacks

Summary: Ferelith ventures out on a personal quest after receiving information there may be a shop nearby that can help her translate a tome in her possession. Though she is willing to go alone, Astarion insists on trailing along. And thus ensues a playful adventure. (Bonus content in further chapters)

Notes: I felt helplessly romantic today and was reading through some things. I remember when I first wrote this, I thought it was the most raunchy thing I had ever written. I then went on to write more raunchy things. I edited this today and just wanted to repost it.

Another Note: 100% NSFW!!!!! You can make lemonade with these lemons.

Read here on Ao3.

It was a rounded stone staircase to a two-story cabin that Ferelith walked up. The sign hanging from the doorway read Apothecary . Nothing else. No clever title, no surnames. Just... Apothecary . It was usually those kind of shops she enjoyed the most. They were always straightforward. And she could generally find what she was looking for. She had insisted on going alone, but Astarion refused to allow her to travel by herself. There was too much at risk and he claimed he would rather act as a gentlemen escort than sit at camp with nothing to do. He was mostly quiet, which was odd, but she enjoyed his company nonetheless. He followed her up the staircase, also observing the sign swinging above the door.

"Charming," he said behind her. "You're sure this is it?"

"If not, we'll find out shortly."

"Fair enough," he sighed.

Ferelith opened the door to find a quaint room filled with shelves. Unfortunately... most of them were empty. Behind the desk was a man dressed in dark green robes. He seemed to be busy binding some sort of pouch but tossed it aside the moment he saw customers.

"Good afternoon!" he smiled. "I'm afraid the shop is low on stock. But I'm sure can help you find something today."

"I'm not exactly here to buy anything. I just had a few questions about some runes I found."

"Runes?" his brow lowered. "Well, I'm a bit rusty. But I can see what I can do."

Ferelith looked over her shoulder to her companion. Perhaps they had chosen poorly after all. The man led them around his counter to a small sitting area in the corner. Behind it was an archway. She did the best she could to lean over to get a better look, but the man took notice and put himself between her and the doorway. He gave Astarion a warning glance before he sat at the table.

"Let's see what you have," he diverted their attention.

Ferelith took her component bag from around her shoulder, hanging it off the back of the chair. She sat down and reached into a breast pocket behind the front of her leather vest. She tossed the book on the table, causing the shopkeep to flinch as if it produced some sort of foul odor.

"What is this?" he said, his tone suddenly changing.

"A book," she replied nonchalantly.

"That's not a book... that's a plague. A bane cursed upon the unfortunate."

Ferelith exchanged a look with Astarion, who remained standing next to her.

"I'm only trying to decypher a message within it."

The shopkeep laughed, holding his stomach so as not to burst. "The best thing you can do with a book like this is to throw it away."

"I can't," she leaned forward. "If you could just-"

"I'll not touch anything that dark from the fey," he shook his head. "Why don't you tell me where you got it?"

A hand slammed down onto the table, shaking the book upon it. Astarion was leaning on that hand, hovering over the shopkeep, his eyes burning red.

"It's nothing more than just a silly book," he attempted persuasion. "If you could simply just... look at it, that is all we ask."

The man was suddenly shaken but intrigued by Astarion in some way.

"You look different as well," he narrowed his eyes. "Where are you from?"

Ferelith let out a heavy sigh. "Perhaps we could trade, sir. I have a variety of items, here. I could pay you for your time."

The man looked over, glancing down into the bag that she now held open. The contents inside made him bolt from his chair. Astarion abruptly pushed him back down as Ferelith casually rummaged through the bag.

"Both of you," his face was filled with horror, Astarion's hand still lingering. "Creatures of the night. Fowl descendants of darkness. I'll have nothing to do with your evil plots."

"I assure you, this is far more boring than whatever it is you're imagining," Astarion crossed his arms.

"Get out of my shop!"

Ferelith froze, holding a jar of what appeared to be wasps in her hand. She looked to Astarion, who shrugged and gave her a questioning look. He was asking for permission, but she shook her head, shoving the jar back in her bag.

"We'll go," she rose from her chair.

Astarion placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her closer to the door. It was an affectionate gesture that was odd to her, but she allowed it, feeling some sort of desire from him to protect her. The man fumbled behind them, mumbling about hellfire and dark fey. Ferelith did what she could to ignore him, but she could feel the rage swelling inside her. As they exited the door, Ferelith turned, lowering Astarion's hand from her side.

"I apologize for the inconvenience," she gave a slight bow.

"I will not be fooled by your disguise," he stated in an angry tone. "You can't hide what you are, hag."

Not another word escaped her mouth before Astarion put himself between her and the shopkeeper. His hand clasped around his throat and slammed him into the wall and part of the door frame, causing it to crack. Ferelith could see the indention on the man’s neck where his fingertips dug into him, causing his face to turn red and his eyes to bulge. Astarion snarled, showing the full extent of his fangs.

"I would be very careful what you say next," he said. "If I even give you the chance."

The man tried to speak but only choked on his tongue. Astarion refused to let go. He waited until his face turned nearly purple before he released him, causing him to collapse on his stoop. He coughed loudly, gasping as the air tried to come in and out of his starved lungs. He reached out to grasp anything to help him onto his feet. Astarion stepped aside to avoid his flailing hand which eventually found the railing. The man looked up, his bloodshot eyes widening in fear as Astarion looked down at him. The expression he gave was that of disgust and his hand flexed as if waiting for Ferelith to permit him to slaughter the pathetic creature. It made something inside her squirm.

"I'll call the guard," his voice was hoarse. "I'll call them. And they'll cut that pretty head of yours, revealing what you truly are. They'll hunt down your abomination. Both of you are damned."

Astarion calmly stepped forward over him but felt the warmth of Ferelith’s touch on his hand. That did not stop the man from falling backward. His hands scrambled beneath his shirt, looking for what appeared to be an amulet of sorts. Small mutters of prayer came from his mouth as he looked about, questioning if shouting for help would be worth it. Ferelith knelt to the man, her pale yellow eyes looking at what he clutched to his chest.

"You'll die soon," she said calmly. "But not by my hand. I'll find what I need elsewhere."

Astarion bared his fangs one last time to keep the man quiet. Ferelith, on the other hand, was already descending the stairs. Her face was full of frustration to the point a wrinkle had formed on the bridge of her nose. He knew the moment she did not deny his touch in the shop, she was heavy with emotion. Ferelith was not a touch sort of person. However, something changed within her as they rounded the corner and she pulled him down into an alley. He couldn't ask why, as there was no time. She pulled him forward with her arms wrapped tightly around him, shoving her face into his shoulder to allow her scream to become muffled. Astarion raised both hands in the air, looking from side to side as she released her anger. He could feel the vibrations on his skin and oddly wished it was more attractive than it really was.

When Ferelith had finished her face had turned red. She panted heavily and pushed him away, brushing her hair from her face. With a deep inhale she held her breath, straightened her tunic, and exhaled. As she did, the color drained from her face. Her true self had returned.

"Fucking bastard," she mumbled to herself.

"Do you want me to go back? I could just kill him."

Ferelith turned to him, her expression fading from anger to what he was sure he could not mistake for lust. A smile spread across her lips followed by a small bit of laughter. She stepped closer to him, her hands sliding up his chest and clutching the collar of his armor. She yanked down hard, pulling him onto her lips. As unexpected as it was, it most certainly was wanted. Their kiss was heavy and even somewhat sloppy. It was as if she had been desiring this for days. When she pulled away, she left her lips hanging under his. She opened her eyes and looked up into his.

“I like what you did... at the shop.”

“Touch your back?” he questioned.

“No... the way you shoved him into his chair.”

“Oh...?” he purred back in reply. “Anything... else?”

Ferelith let go of his collar, running her hands down his chest.

“I like the way you frightened him with your threats. The way you spoke...”

“Go on...” his hands were reaching down to her thighs.

“I couldn’t help myself. I was wet watching you shout at him.”

Astarion groaned as he bent his knees, lifting her and placing her back against the wall.

“And when you squeezed his neck...”

She felt his grip tighten around the bottom of her thighs as he pressed his pelvis against her. Her interest in his antics left him wanting, too. The excitement brought him to her lips as he thrust her aggressively against the brick behind them. There was no shame to him, but he still worried about the attention they could bring after the uproar they had just caused. Dying in an alley wasn't ideal, but it wouldn't have been a bad way to go with her at his lips.

"I have an idea," she said on the cusp of his lips between breaths.

"If it involves being inside you, I won't need much persuading," he replied quickly.

"The shopkeep is distracted with the guard. The building is empty."

Astarion's face lit up, a wide smile forming and showing all the points of his teeth. "You wicked... wicked woman."

There was no hesitation from Ferelith as she turned, grabbing his hand and pulling him behind her. Following was easy, his steps correlating with hers as they ran back down the alley. She marched up the steps, looking back to smile at him. They would have to go around another alley to the back of the house. Somehow, she knew the way, as if she had been planning to break in all along. Watching the back of her, her hair bouncing as she ran, the over-the-shoulder smile, her hand clutching his own... something about it made him feel free. There was no beat to his heart, but something in his chest rushed through him.

It tightened as they approached the back of the shop. Ferelith let go of his hand when she stepped to the window. Peering in through a crack, she had been correct. The man had left the house empty. Unguarded. And was more than likely leaving to report the incident to the town guard. The window’s shutters were bolted, but it was nothing Astarion could not pick through. It fell to the ground with a thud and he opened it quietly. With ease, he climbed inside. Ferelith quickly followed.

The room they landed in appeared to be the mixing room in the back. Dried herbs were hanging from the rafts, empty cauldrons were waiting to be scrubbed, various notes were nailed to the walls, and random tools of the craft were scattered about. But the one thing that was abundant in the room... were tables. And it took Ferelith no time to pick one, scattered with notes and herbs. She took Astarion by the hand, walking backward and slowly dragging him with her. He watched as she slid herself on a table with her arms leaned back to support her. She spread her legs, inviting him. He accepted, sliding his hands from her knees down her thighs. They resumed their kiss from the alleyway, Ferelith reaching desperately for his breeches.

This was a side to her he had never seen before. Not outside of dreams, anyway. There was a ferocity to her kiss and a look in her eye that sparked something inside him. It made him impatient as well. As she had finished untying the string at his waist, she reached down the front of his breeches, grabbing him around the shaft and pulling upward. There was a heavy exhale from him as she moved her hand around it, feeling the wetness from his tip with her thumb. Her boots needed to be removed. Now. His hands were quick, sliding them off one leg and then the other. He wasn't quite sure where he threw them, but he was willing to purchase her new ones if he had to. Her leathers were next, in which case she had had already begun to untie them. With one hand, he lifted her from the table. And with a combined effort from the two, they slid the pants to her ankles. One leg he managed to slide off, the other he didn't have time for.

Rising between her legs, he grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her forward aggressively and kissing her with an open mouth. She pulled him forward by the hips, thrusting herself into him at the edge of the table. As he reached down to pull himself out, he realized how incredibly hard he truly was. She was pulling at him, pulling at his darker instinct. With his hand still around the tip, he moved a finger to the cloth of her small clothes that blocked his path. He shifted them to the side and rubbed the tip of his finger against her, feeling how ready she was to have him. She squirmed, biting his lip and making him groan. She drew him in again, her hands now buried under the sides of his pants and digging into his hip bones. He slid his hand down to the base of his shaft, feeling it slick from his wetness and now hers.

He moaned loudly when he dove inside, causing him to toss back his head. The soft warmth of her walls tightened around him. She kissed him on the neck, stretching up to bite his jaw. He moaned again, pulling out and thrusting back in. Her hands rose under his shirt, clawing at his lower back as he began to pump inside her. He kissed her again, breathing heavily through his nose. The more he was inside, the faster he began to move. Small whimpers came from the back of her throat. He had decided he wanted to hear more of them. He removed his lips to bury his face into her shoulder. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on either side of her and onto the table, causing her to lean back and push her bottom half further to the edge. He moved harder, making her cry out with pleasure, clutching his back to stay balanced. Her legs rose and she wrapped them around him. But he needed more space. He moved his hand to her thigh, where he grabbed it and lifted it to plunge deeper into her.

It felt good. It felt so damn good. Her body tightened and she felt the first convulsion that sent a chill through her body, signaling the beginnings of her climax. Astarion groaned deeply, a heavy breath that billowed from the bottom of his lungs. Her pleasure was ecstasy to him. The more she shouted, the harder he thrust. He straightened himself up, watching his manhood slide in and out of her. Her cloth panties were still pushed to the side and he decided they were a hinderance to his sight. There wasn't time for pause, so he reached down and tugged. They ripped apart at his hand with no trouble at all. However, the full impact of seeing himself inside her was overwhelming and he quickly looked away as he felt a twitch that would cause him to cum too quickly. He looked at her, instead, watching her body bounce in motion with his movements. Her head was craned back, her neck arched upward and he could see her cheeks getting red. Her nails dug into his flesh and he growled but did not stop. He slid his arm through the crook in her leg below the knee, holding her at her lower back. His movement slowed to a steady in-and-out thrust. Her walls were pulsing, ready and wanting... and waiting. The hand on the table came up her back, straightening her and resting on the back of her head. His fingers tangled into her hair and he could feel her hot breath on his neck. He tightened his grip, feeling another surge for himself, as well.

"Cum for me," he said into her ear.

A soft moan fell from her lips, slipping into his ear. Her hands retracted from his back, slithering their way back down to his hips where she felt him push and pull.

"Make me," she whispered back.

He pulled her away from him, gently, to look her in the eyes. There was the spark again. The look of defiance. It made him want to slam her onto the table. But he couldn't. Not yet. He wanted to make her suffer. He pumped slowly, feeling the insides tighten each time he passed through. She was close. And as her face became askew, mouth open with hooded eyes, he could see she was resisting. She was voluntarily tightening herself and releasing, holding on to extend her pleasure. He grinned, thoroughly enjoying watching the expression on her face change as he went deeper and deeper with every sway.

"Oh," she said, her mouth hanging open. "Oh... my..."

Her hands squeezed his hips, desperately trying to move him. But he was in control. And the consistency of his cock passing through her walls and touching deep inside her sent a steady flowing chill through her body. He could feel it, too, her walls no longer pulsing... but tightening. He pressed his lips firmly together, fighting his own climax as she became wetter around him. He hummed loudly, his hand unclutching the back of her head and slamming onto the table.

"Don't stop," she begged, loosening her grasp and letting him move.

She felt it from her fingertips down to the very tips of her toes, a warm sensation that tingled her entire body. And at the center was Astarion, still steadily and slowly pumping into her. There was a loud cry followed by desperate gasps for air and small whimpers. He placed his other hand on the table giving one last thrust into her as he felt her loosen. His head lifted, kissing her immediately. And he would have been able to contain himself... if he hadn't felt the bite of her teeth on his bottom lip. He pulled away, but she hadn't let go, his lip sliding between them. The darkness came back, just when he thought he had controlled it. He only had to take a half step to slide her off the surface. Her legs were shaking and he held her up, helping her turn over. A foot came down onto the pants still wrapped around her ankle. And as he turned her, they came off her foot. Ferelith tried to steady herself, but it was no use. Astarion had thrust himself back inside her without any gentle ease. Her arms rose to the table and she tried to plant them down before he reached up, grabbing one of her wrists and holding it behind her back. With her free arm, she reached up to grab the other end... but could not find it. Instead, she wrinkled the research that was left on the table. It rocked back and forth as he slammed himself against her. And it was all she could do to just enjoy it. Her eyes rolled back and she could feel herself tighten around him again, the sensitivity from before heightening his deep thrusts.

The slickness from her orgasm made it easy for him to slide in and out without resistance, allowing his pace to move faster. And harder. Ferelith could not control the cries coming from her mouth as he touched the very center of her over and over. He had another urge to grab her, his sinister thoughts coming out again. Not wanting to completely incapacitate her, he grabbed her rear and squeezed it until he made a handprint. He watched her bounce against his hips, his cock sliding effortlessly into her. He watched for a moment, the visual combining with the sensation sending him over the edge. He let go of her wrist, grabbing both her hips and pulling her closer, thrusting deeper inside her. He pushed two more times before finally feeling himself release. He moaned loudly, continuing to bounce her on him as he felt his manhood twitch inside her. He pulled himself out, examining the creamy liquid on his member.

He let go of Ferelith but quickly caught her as she began to lean too far to one side. She turned around with his hands to guide her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"More than alright," she panted, hoisting herself up.

They both began to laugh, Ferelith leaning her forehead against his and running her hands up his arms.

"Here," he lifted her onto the table, knowing she would spill what was inside her onto the research they had just spoiled. "Let me find something to clean up with."

Looking around, he didn't trust anything inside the apothecary to clean himself with. He casually walked into the front area and noticed a robe hanging on a coat rack near the door. He gave a quick glance out the window and saw no one was near the shop. Then grabbed the robe to head back to Ferelith, who was patiently waiting and catching her breath. He wiped himself first, which was hardly a mess at all, and handed it to his partner. He tucked himself back into his breeches and tied it up just as neatly as before.

"Could... could you maybe not watch?" she said standing up.

There was a small drip that descended her leg. He lifted a brow, feeling himself harden again at his handy work.

"I suppose I could give the lady some privacy," his eyes rose to meet her.

He gave a slight gracious bow before turning his back, walking toward a different part of the room. It was covered in books. Many of them were old and covered in dust as if they had not been touched in a very long time. The titles seemed to have obscure names. Something similar to what Ferelith would read. He had no knowledge of such things, but he could tell magic from cultism. And these books were certainly darker in nature. He grabbed one, in particular, an emerald green book with a faded gold bird stamped on the side. He opened it to see it was written in elvish. Something he was acquainted with. But then other parts he could not understand. And as he flipped through the book, he noticed small charts of what appeared to be runes.

"Ferelith..." he called quietly.

"Yes?" she asked sweetly.

He smiled, wanting to look at her, but not wanting to disrupt her space. He had noticed she was always more pleasant after a good orgasm. This wasn't the first time she used that tone with him. He adored it and the warm feeling it gave him.

"You should look at this. It appears we were in the right place after all."

He heard the thud of the robe falling to the floor and the soft pitter-patter of her feet trotting toward him. She snatched the book from him, causing him to look over with disdain. With her leathers draped over her shoulders, she began to flip through the pages. Her mind was lost in thought and her eyes stuck in a trance, she sat the book down the table. They didn't leave the page as she slid her legs through the pantholes.

"That stingy prick," she said, her eyes still darting through the words.

"I thought he didn't deal with the fey?"

"I don't think he does. This is sylvan. Druidic. Old... druidic."

She hopped pulling her pants to her waste but when she reached down to tie them, she didn't feel the strings. A quick flash of annoyance came onto her face, but she was still too focused.

"It's part of a set..." she flipped the book over to see the bird. "One of three. I believe I have another that belongs to it."

"Are any of these part of the set?"

Ferelith finally looked up to Astarion, who was gesturing to the series of books he had discovered. Her hand touched each one as her eyes scanned over their spines. She took out several of them, opening them and finding more runes, more sigils, more spells. One book in particular she tapped.

"This, here. Abyssal? Infernal?"

"Infernal," he said, leaning over her.

"You can read it?"

"Some," he said.

"Perfect... that will make transcribing it much easier," her eyes lit up when she looked at him.

"Let's get started. I'll grab the rest of the books," he began to stack them together on the table.

Ferelith placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn and look in her direction. It slid to his neck while her other caressed the side of his face.

"I've never been more attracted to you," she said before she kissed him.

Wrapping his arms around her, he felt the sudden urge to throw her on another table.

"Do we have time for another round?" he said above a whisper, his hand sliding underneath her.

"Doubtful," she said with a satisfied exhale but slid his hand away.

Ferelith turned back toward the table, placing the books she had pulled out into her satchel. Before she could face the bookshelf to grab the others, she felt hands around her waste. He pressed her against the table, his teeth grazing the side of her neck. She folded, pressing her backside into his crotch, dropping the bag, and letting out a loud moan. He reached back down, tucking his hand beneath her breeches where he could feel she wasn't wearing anything beneath them. Just as she reached up to grab the back of his head, there was a sudden scream from the door.

Astarion pulled his hand away, quickly turning to see the shopkeep had made his way back. Ferelith reached down, grabbing the bag with the books in it. He shoved her toward the window and she climbed through clumsily, tripping a bit before she caught her footing. She took off running before she knew Astarion was behind her. But within a few short seconds, she could hear his footsteps followed by the cursing of a man leaning out the window. Ferelith was fast, especially on bare feet, but Astarion was by far faster. She could hear him panting behind her. She hadn't the slightest idea of where she was going, but she zipped through the alleyways until she knew they were safe. She found a path with a stack of crates and slowed her pace to flop down behind them. Astarion was right behind her, placing his back on the wall and sliding down next to her. Breathing heavily, they both looked at one another. And much like two troublesome children, the second their eyes met, they burst into laughter. Ferelith paused to admire the authenticity of his laugh. Seeing him smile like that, his head back with his laughter echoing off the walls, it made her feel a genuine sense of joy that usually had a hard time finding a place in her life.

" That ," he caught his breath, "was not what I expected when you said you needed a few things from town."

"You'll learn not to have expectations with me," she grinned.

"Spontaneity all the way through, then?" he turned to look at her, taking her hand into his. "Should be fun."

He lifted it, kissing her knuckles and holding her hand to his mouth while looking at her with large eyes. Ferelith rolled her eyes, taking her hand back from him.

"Alright, enough," she rose to her feet. "Let's get back to camp."

There was a sudden pull on her strings... oddly, from the back. She looked over at Astarion, tying her breeches for her.

"Are you aware your pants are on backward?"

"What? No!"

"Would you like to fix them?"

"No... You can take them off for me later."

"Oh, yes. Be sure to remind me, darling," he turned around, waving his hands behind his back. "Now get on my back. I'll carry you. Just until we're out of town. These city streets are filthier than the dirt-trodden paths."

Ferelith adjusted her satchel across her shoulder, feeling the heaviness from the weight of the books. She looked at Astarion's back, his hands stretched behind him waiting for her. It was clear she wanted to decline, but something was preventing her from doing so. The fluttering of joy came through her chest again. Astarion looked over his shoulder, becoming impatient.

"Well? Come on."

One last smile to him, and she reluctantly hopped on his back, hearing him make a small grunt as he hoisted her up.

"Do you think he'd be willing to give back my boots?" she said, her head resting atop his.

"We can certainly try." Astarion shrugged. "If not, my offer still stands on killing him."

And they both grinned, the wind blowing slightly through the wide alleyway as they made their voyage out of town.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x ferelith #astarion x oc #astarion mc #astarion pc

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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 days ago

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I'm sorry. I'm just obsessed with this.

Make one for you here: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/2317684

#astarion x ferelith #astarion #ferelith moonshade #mc:ferelith

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dragonswithjetpacks · 4 days ago

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Chapter VIII : A Fine Night for Stars

Paring: Astarion x female!mc

Rating: M (18+)

Spice: Slow Burn

Ferelith grunted as Shadowheart touched her bruised ribs. The gash was still oozing blood now and then, even through the bandages. “Stop squirming and I might be able to heal you properly!” “For fuck’s sake, give me a bottle of wine!” She wretched as Shadowheart tried cleaning the blood from the wound again. It was a miracle she had made it out of the grove without any of the druids noticing. Either they did not care for her enough to give her the slightest bit of attention or they cared for Nettie even less. Regardless, Gale was able to hoist her up the stairs, through the camp, and up the hill without drawing any attention. Once they made it to the portal they were able to travel risk free back to camp. Where Gale dropped her at Shadowheart’s feet. Leaving the party to their squabble match. “Alcohol will thin your blood. Just lay still.” “I’m laying still. You’re just pressing on my ribs too hard.”

Finishing reading on Ao3 or just finish reading it here.

“Don’t you dare,” Shadowheart gave Gale a warning glance as he came over with a bottle of wine.

“Give me the bottle or you’ll wake up inside the rotting carcass of a cow with syphilis.”

“Oh… I rather like this,” Astarion grinned.

“She’s not normally like this?” Wyll asked next to him at the fire.

“Depends what day it is,” he replied honestly.

Ferelith lifted a free hand up into the air while the other covered her exposed breast. She didn’t care who put the bottle in it, just as long as it made its way there. The cork was already off, much to her favor, and she tipped it upward. With her distracted, Shadowheart went to work cleaning the rest of the wound. The pain sung an aggressive song through her chest but she ignored it and listened to the pounding of fermented grapes pouring into her throat.

“Fucking… hells,” Ferelith heaved as Shadowheart finally began to heal the wound.

“You’re such a child,” Shadowheart shook her head with a smile.

S he answered by turning the bottle upright once more. Her body took in the warmth radiating from the cleric’s hands and her wound was sealed shut. It would stop the bleeding and lessen the bruising, but it wouldn’t force the bones to mend properly. That would take time.

“Let’s get you upright,” she slid the sleeve of Ferelith’s tunic up her shoulder.

She extended her hands and helped the elf onto her feet. She swayed a bit, but refused to let go of the bottle. Shadowheart steadied her.

“You aren’t allowed to go anywhere alone anymore.”

“Now, now. Let’s not take away what little privileges I have left,” Ferelith warned her. “But… thank you. For the healing. And the bandages.”

“You’re welcome,” Shadowheart looked at her bandaged chest. “Now get some rest.”

“Indeed,” she winked. “After… a few more glasses of wine,” she muttered afterward as she walked away.

“Perhaps it will give us a moment to chat,” Astarion appeared before her with an empty wine glass in his hand.

He took the bottle from her, poured the contents into the glass, and then handed it back.

“You sound serious. Must be important,” she teased.

“It’s about what I found in the grove.”

“Oh?” Ferelith’s interest peaked with her eyebrows. “What did you find in the grove?”

A starion reached into his pocket pulling out a piece of folded paper.

“A letter do our dear Kagha. It seems she was meant to meet someone somewhere near the swamp. There’s a stash mentioned.”

“Interesting,” she took the note and tucked it into her tunic against her chest.

“And there’s also this,” he pulled out a scroll.

Ferelith stared at it. It looked far to old with too many symbols on it to be any sort of note.

“Did you steal the Rite of Thorns?” she looked at him.

“I did.”

“Well… then I hope whoever forgot their lines isn’t punished too severely. Most of them likely have it memorized. Still…” she took the scroll into her hands. “It’s interesting that it was so easy to take. Do you think the idol would be as easy?”

“Not likely,” Astarion laughed. “But I’m willing to let my share of the take motivate me.”

“I’ll think about it,” she tapped him on the shoulder with the scroll before she strolled away.

Ferelith’s tent was on the other side of Gale’s. It was closest to the river and to where the items for bathing were kept. Before heading to her cot she paused, noting Wyll’s curious stare. Perhaps it was curiosity. Or perhaps it was the wine. But something reminded her of the cambion that lingered in his thoughts. And she wondered if Wyll had also witnessed something similar in her own.

“Salutations,” he grinned, but she could see the hint of hesitation.

“Good evening,” she responded. “I wanted to apologize for my vulgar display.”

“No need,” he waved his hands. “I understand how uncomfortable healing can be.”

“Still, I thought we might get better acquainted. I don’t think we were properly introduced earlier. My name is-”

“Ferelith, yes. It was brief. But I believe I caught your name.”

“Blade of the Frontiers,” she held out her free hand, and he grasped it gently.

“Living legend, in the flesh,” he boasted with a gentle shake. “Slayer of specters. Killer of kobolds. The pride of Baldur’s Gate.”

“So they say,” she took a drink.

“Ah, so you’ve heard the stories?”

“I have,” her smile grew. “The wonderful tales that they are.”

“All true, I might add. Won’t be long before they’re telling new tales. Mind flayers, flying ships, dragon attacks- the legend grows!”

“Mind flayers and dragons are quite the stretch from kobolds. I assume you have an idea of how to handle this, then?”

“There’s an old saying I just made up,” he tossed his hand carelessly. “To fell a dragon, you must chop off its head.”

“I see,” she nodded slowly. “So... you have no idea.”

“Hold on,” he held up the same hand. “These goblins are organized. It’s no hamhead pulling the strings. We slither through their camp and off their leaders, quick as crickets.”

“Take out the ones pulling the strings and the puppets have no one to follow. Not a bad plan, but I never imagined goblins would be the type to fall in line. Are you sure they’re as organized as you say?”

“Positive,” he sounded firm. “I’ve learned at least that much while defending the camp.”

“You said you were waiting for Halsin,” she stated. “Why risk your life for the tieflings?”

“Did you see those kids back at the grove? They should be chasing frogs, climbing trees. Not training for battles they can’t win. Those people look at me and they see a hero. Imagine how bad they’d feel if they were wrong.”

“It is an unfortunate situation.”

“I disagree,” he said firmly. “Fortune has brought us to their aid.”

“What a heroic way to put it,” she chuckled with sarcasm and took a loud sip of her wine.

“I agree,” he said in all seriousness, eyeing her as her eyes flicked up at him over her glass. “You look like you have something to ask me.”

“Ah, yes,” she lowered the glass. “Your eye. It’s a bit… unusual.”

With that she leaned forward and was completely aware of the space she invaded.

“Now, now” he held up a hand to keep her at bay. “I always save the best stories for my closest friends and my cruelest enemies. Get to be one of those, and I’ll spill the whole jug.”

Her posture softened and relaxed backward, but the intensity of her gaze never left.

“You get that, right? Spill the whole jug? Ugh- guess I’ll toss that one into the heap.”

Ferelith had never been called a fool. The one time she had the person that spoke the word left with a very distinct red mark the shape of a hand on his face. She knew what the eye was. And playing coy wasn’t doing him any favors.

“It looks like a sending stone,” she said plainly.

Wyll threw himself into a fit of laughter. “A what now? Goodness, but it’s just a bit of rock- nothing so special, I assure you.”

He had just met the woman. But he had already caught that she was far too cunning to outsmart. He held his smile as long as he could as her eyes narrowed on him. He knew that she knew. And she would hold his secret… for now.

“If you say so, love,” she smiled knowingly.

It sounded far more sinister than it should. She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and with her glass in one hand, the bottle in the other, she made her way back to her camp. He lowered his brow, glaring at her back as if he were about to see antlers sprout from her head. She was not the only holding on to someone else’s secret. He had just a glimpse of the claws that clutched her shoulders. It was quiet. But it was there. He wondered if the others knew the extent of her patron.

Back in her tent, Ferelith gripped her glass so hard she was afraid it might break. Damned idiot. He could have helped her. He could have used the tadpole and called out to her patron. She knew he had seen him. But he was too self righteous, too good for all the pact nonsense. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need him. She just… needed to find a way to reconnect. The worm… it must be blocking their connection somehow. Ferelith reached across her cot, grabbing a journal that held notes of the runes from the book that bound them. She began to write down her assumptions and possible solutions. There had to be a way to use this telepathic power…

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Astarion leaned back on his elbows, his eyes scanning the sky above. Now that they had settled in quite nicely in their camp, he felt as though he was enjoying it more than he thought. Ferelith was right… the night was never dark. Not unless clouds covered the sky. But most nights were filled with stars. And it made his late escapades a bit more romantic. Just as the thought of Ferelith occurred, he heard her footsteps from the river approaching. She had one of her blankets wrapped around her shoulders. And she seemed to be tearing apart a few pieces of bread. As she grew closer he could hear her humming.

“Feeling sentimental?”

“I can’t get comfortable with these bandages so tight.”

He could hear the slurring in her words. She definitely drank the entire bottle.

“Stargazing, are we?” she asked, tilting her head upward.

His eyes couldn’t help but linger to her face. The light from the fire reflected off her jaw and he could see the highlight of her cheekbones. And every feature of her very long and very delicate neck. She was so small and fragile. But that dwarf she covered in books had a very broken neck. That power inside her must be quite the advantage to make up for her lack of strength. He shuddered at the idea of what else she was capable of causing her to look back him. He held her gaze for a moment before turning his head back up.

"It's quite a sight. That stars, I mean,” he clarified with quick glance. "I could take or leave your chin."

There was a hint of a smile. There it was. There was the fruits of his labor. Or at least, the wine’s labor.

“Yes. They are. You look like you’ve made yourself quite comfortable.”

“I suppose I have,” he shifted a bit. “I can see the stars from Baldur’s Gate, of course. But… not with such clarity. It got me thinking. Reflecting on what tomorrow might bring when we arrive at this gith creche.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain it will be that soon,” Ferelith sighed. “We haven’t any idea of where it’s located… or if we can trust the information. Or the gith.”

“You don’t think the druid camp would be more promising, do you?” he seemed hesitant to ask.

“Normally, I’d be the last person to ask druids for help, but…” she shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure the answers we seek are in the hands of the gith. They’re… not known for compassion. Not that I trust druids, either. I just…”

The pause lingered in the air.

“I don’t like not knowing,” she lowered her arms and faced him.

“We’ll find answers,” he sat up. “The question is, will we find out how to bring the worm under control? And if so, will this little adventure of ours be over?”

“Likely,” she lifted a brow casually.

“Pity,” he frowned. “A great pity.”

“You sound so disappoint,” she crossed her arms. “As if you’ll actually miss me.”

“Ha!” Astarion laughed out loud before pushing himself onto his feet. “Why not? You’ve been to the Hells and back. Survived the crash! Survived everything that’s followed. I’m not easily impressed by people, but you’re strong that I gave you credit for.”

Ferelith’s smile had not faded. And he could feel her eyes studying him.

“That wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard that,” she said. “I’m just a survivor. Like you.”

“Yes,” he touched his chest in a heartfelt gesture. “We’re more similar than I thought.”

“So it seems,” she nodded in agreement. “Perhaps we’ll have more opportunities to explore how much we have in common.”

H e could see her flushed cheeks, now. She was a flirty little lush.

Astarion chuckled. “ A delicious thought, but…”

“But, what?” Ferelith’s eyes flared. “Am I not impressive?”

Oh. No. She was toying with him.

“Aha,” he let a breath slip. “Aren’t you just?”

“What is it your waiting for, Astarion?”

Perhaps the cat and mouse game they had been playing these last few days were moving things along quicker than he thought. She liked the back and forth. Liked the teasing. Liked the arguing. This was going to be easy. But… it was too easy. He took a step toward her and she rose her chin as he approached. Her lips parted slightly as they stared at one another. She was… dangerous.

“The right moment.”

H e finally said. Ferelith’s brows rose at the answer. The smile lowered. And she closed her mouth. With a small nod, she crossed her arms. She leaned forward her eye lids fluttering as she looked at his mouth.

“Very well,” she said quietly. “Make it count.”

T hen she left him, her shoulder grazing his as she walked back to her tent.

Fuck…

Fuck.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x oc #mc:ferelith #bg3 fanfic #astarion slow burn #astarion x ferelith #ferelith writing tag #dwjp writing tag

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dragonswithjetpacks · 1 year ago

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Oh man part of this was pretty spot on.

Anyway yeah something like that.

Astarion: I'm just going win her over with my good looks, charm, and a little seduction.

Ferelith: I'm down for some fun and wouldn't mind some entertainment as long as he stays over there.

Both of them: lol oh shit ithinkimightbefallinlovewhatan IDIOT.

I’ve been really wanting to write more about Astarion and Ferelith in the beginning lately.

Like she’s just so utterly disgusted by him at first. She finds him difficult to deal with and his flattery unnecessary. Ferelith is the type of person who like to be wooed, but only by a specific type of person. And while Astarion does meet some of the criteria, a deceitful vampire spawn isn’t exactly what she has in mind. She also hates egotistical men who pursue her despite her rejections. And she gets a little squeamish around undead. But he’s a very pretty undead so it helps.

Because that’s the thing, though, she’s very attracted to him physically. And eventually, he discovers making her laugh, which can be difficult, is a direct line to earning her trust. He charms her, as he does everyone. And though she tries to resist, eventually, she gives in. But she refuses to be another notch in the belt. She knows it’s not a one way street and she has certain skills with her charisma, herself. So she begins to play his game, learning what raises his brow and makes him grin. It’s a battle of wits and charm. That eventually turns into they don’t know if they’re toying with each other anymore… or if it’s getting too real.

Once past the insults and the obvious accusations of mistrust, their camaraderie turns into teasing banter and a certain confidence on the battlefield. Ferelith tolerates him and he slowly opens up, He develops genuine affections, but I mean, clearly has no idea how to deal with them. So he does what ever confused person does with emotions they don’t understand and… ignores it. The gestures of friendship he makes, showing an aptitude to kindness, are just ways to ensure Ferelith won’t eventually gut him. And the continuation of the romantic advancements are a way to hide how he really starts to feel.

And of course Ferelith starts to show a hint of emotional attachment, but buries them away. There’s a lot of tension and complexity to it all that she doesn’t want. And while he insists it’s easier than she’s making it, she basically doesn’t believe any sort of relationship with him is viable. Still, she can’t deny that the want for it is there. They’re basically playing a game called “First one to fall in love is a rotten egg.”

Which brings me to post game. Or post early access. I dunno. Well, I imagine they probably continue the sexual part of their relationship regardless. Unless he betrays everyone. In which case, Ferelith already warned him she’d kill him no matter how attached she got. She doesn’t deal with cheaters and liars very well. Her pride is way to massive to let it go. Me personally, I just want them to be happy. Ferelith has been alone for a very long time. And Astarion has never known what it’s like to be with someone romantically. It would be a nice ending if they found that trust with each other. Even if it is just for the game, their little rendezvous will at least be somewhat meaningful and they could know happiness with someone else for a short time. *holds onto that thought dearly*

Or, you know, Astarion is just a bastard and leaves her high and dry. And she basically hates him forever. Which is cool, too, because I am a sucker for tragedy. Looking at you Solas. Making me fuckin cry.

Long unnecessary post short: dislike - you might be ok - i guess we’re friends now - are we flirting for real this time? - oh… we’re flirting for real this time - i’m not falling for this - shit i’m falling for this - ok let’s just make out

Denial is key.

#astarion x ferelith #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #astarion romance

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dragonswithjetpacks · 10 days ago

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Chapter VI : A Quick Laugh at Death

Paring: Astarion x female!mc

Rating: M (18+)

Spice: Slow Burn

Dinner that night consisted of a very passive aggressive discussion between Shadowheart and Lae’zel. And as much as Ferelith wanted to be involved in their squabble as a simple distraction, she was driven into her own dilemma. There was still no sign of Fian. No whisper. Not even a sigh. And each time she searched it was just that silhouette in the corner of her mind. He was still there… but nothing more. Without Fian she could be a danger to herself. But she couldn’t let the others know. Not yet. Not until she trusted some of them. Or got them to trust her. Not that it was difficult. Ferelith was a respected member of the Upper City. And the Upper City was so easy to please. A big smile, bat of the lashes, and a short compassionate speech sent her on her way. There was no faking this. And she knew she wasn’t going to try. She was no longer the Bookkeeper here… she was Ferelith… the Sage.

Here is the Ao3 link OR you can just keep reading here to read about Ferelith counting Astarion's abs...

At least she had that in common with Gale. As well as books. And wine. Just as she began to think it may not be so difficult connecting with her comrades, she exited her tent to find him grooming himself… in front of himself… He leaned forward, observing his own double, looking for any of his fine features to be out of place.

“Be with you in a moment,” he said as he heard her growing closer, his voice doubled as well.

His attention never left the mirror image. Ferelith snorted a bit, rolling her eyes with a sigh as she glanced around for something else to keep her occupied. She allowed him a few more seconds before she grew impatient.

“Is there a reason you’re studying your own image?”

Gale turned, a smirk shot at her to acknowledge the teasing tone.

“Indulging in a spot of vanity. Handsome devil, aren’t I?” after a wave of his hand to dismiss it, he spun around to give her his full attention. “Be that as it may.”

It slowly fizzled down to a few sparks behind him. He folded his hands behind his back, very much in the astute sort of way she would have imagined. His brow lowered and she could feel the tone shifting to a more serious matter.

“Ceremorphosis. What does it make you think of?”

“The tadpole,” she answered, knowing it was what he expected.

Still, he responded with utmost enthusiasm.

“Spot on,” he winked. “Day one: fever and memory loss. Day two: hallucinations and graying skin. Day three: hair loss and blood leaking from all orifices. Need I go on?”

“By all means,” she nodded.

“Day four: excruciating pain as the skeleton and organs reform and reposition. Day five: the host's personality has disappeared. Fingers, toes, and limbs elongate,” he became a bit aggravated as a small chuckle fell from her lips. “I take it you get the picture.”

“I’ve already committed to the lesson, Gale,” she grinned. “Might as well get my money’s worth.”

“Day six,” he lowered his brow, clearly not humored by her sarcasm, “The flesh around the mouth splits to make way for tentacles. Day seven: a mindflayer is born. This is the most annotated version, of course.”

“What you’re saying,” she shifted with crossed arms, “is that I can at least keep my sense of humor until the fifth day? I’d say we only have another night’s worth of laughs, Gale.”

“I’m glad your coping mechanism consists of deflecting the seriousness of this problem with jokes,” he replied.

“You’re no fun tonight,” she tilted her head to the side. “But no worries. We’re two days in. We should have clearly turned gray by now.”

“Spot on again,” he flicked a finger at her. “Orifices remain blissfully unbloodied. Our heads remain clear, and our blood temperature is normal. Any expert will agree: this is… abnormal.”

“Don’t question it so much,” she shrugged. “In all my existence, the only reason I owe my life to anything is because of the abnormal.”

“I’ll toast to that,” he smiled uneasily with a hint of intrigue. “The pragmatic in me, however, sees only the silence before the storm.”

“And what sort of storm do you think it will be?”

“Hmm…” thought for a moment but only shook his head. “It’s just something to sleep on. We should get some rest.”

“Right,” she smiled with a slow nod. “Well thank you for the lovely imagery. I’m sure it will be just what I need to soothe me into meditation tonight. Good night, Gale.”

“I’m only here to help,” he gave a half salute.

Ferelith waved her hand slightly in his direct to bid farewell as she made her way back to the fire. They had acquired a few extra blankets. And she was lucky enough to procure an additional pillow. Leaning against her new luxurious cot was her pack, waiting patiently for her hands to dive into it. And standing directly across the fire, just as he was the night before, was Astarion. He seemed to be waiting as patiently as her pack.

“I saw you getting a lecture from our magical friend,” he said the moment her face felt the heat of the fire.

“It was quite informative,” she responded.

“Descriptive, at the very least.”

“I have to say,” he said leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “I thought you’d look worse. But no. Not a tentacle in sight.”

“Thank you,” she turned her shoulder toward him. “I’m hoping it will stay that way.”

“Naturally,” he rose a brow. “But I was thinking… what if it doesn’t?”

Ferelith had thought about what would happen if she did change. But she was too stubborn to linger on the thought for long. She was not willing to believe it could happen. Nor was she willing to admit to anyone else that it was even a possibility. Astarion was quick to catch this as he could see sentiment had no impact.

“Of course,” he went on, tilting his chin to the side with a gleam in his eyes that lingered to her chest, “first sign of change and I’ll have to stop that pretty-little-heart of yours.”

The excitement in his voice stirred something in Ferelith. It made her uneasy. She crossed her arms to distract his stare. She used to people staring at her chest. And he found it amusing that she thought that was what he focused on. But it did not matter. He could hear the sound of her pounding heart. And after what he said, it was beating faster.

“I am open to suggestions. Knives, poison, strangulation – whatever you’d prefer.”

“I’d prefer not to die,” she said dully.

“Well now you’re just being closed-minded,” he teased. “There are some lovely ways to go.”

“First I listen to Gale talk about the details of turning into a terrifying monster and now you’re telling me all the options I have in which you could kill me? Whoever said chivalry was dead must have no taste for macabre.”

“To be fair, you were the one that pushed the wizard to give those wonderful details. I am giving you these options as a gift.”

“I am ever so grateful. Do go on about the beautiful ways in which I can ensue death.”

“You know, I watched urchins freeze to death on the street. It looks peaceful – just like falling asleep.”

“Very poetic… I wonder if drowning feels the same.”

“So you do know how to play,” his shoulders fell back. “Oh, come on. Humor me. If you had to choose…”

“Fine,” she took a deep breath with a few seconds of thought. “A knife,” she said with an exhale. “Make it a quick death. I’ve already suffered.”

“A classic,” he gave a nod of approval. “One good thrust to the heart and you’re gone. We need a good blade, of course. Don’t want to waste time hacking and prodding with a dinner knife.”

It was sudden. The widening of her eyes. And the first quick laugh that came from her mouth. She almost seemed shocked at the sound she made. Her mouth even hung open as she gawked at him. And then she really let it out. A loud series of rhythmic laughter. It was wicked… and beautiful. She rose her brows in disbelief that he had truly made her laugh.

“We have that covered then, don’t we?”

“Well,” he said, leaning forward toward her like they were a couple of children, “I’m getting ahead of myself. This is all a worst case scenario, obviously.”

“You’re terrible,” she rolled her eyes with one last tit of laughter. “What about you? Is there any way you’d like for me to end your life?”

“Oh, my dear,” he said with a condescending tone. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Dealer’s choice then,” she said such a contradicting tone that he had to truly study her expression. “I’ll make sure it’s a lovely surprise.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’ll disappoint me,” it was meant to be a compliment but he deeply desired to match her tone, making it sound more like a threat. “Now, enough of this talk or we’ll get too excited. Let’s get some rest. The sooner we start tomorrow, the better our chances of keeping this hypothetical.”

“I take it you’re joining our venture to the tiefling and druid camp, then?”

“Of course, darling,” he replied. “I’ll go wherever you lead.”

“I’d be careful with those words,” she teased. “You’ll never know where I’m going to lead you.”

“Even better.”

She shook her head with a foolish smirk she could not hide. After one last look she strode over to her cot. “Good night, Astarion.”

“Good night, Ferelith.”

The next day brought a heavy fog over the camp, dampening both their supplies and their spirits. The overcast was holding on a bit too long, but Ferelith knew the higher the sun rose the brighter the sky would become. The human, the gith, and the two elves made their way out of camp, leaving Shadowheart behind to guard it. To her disappointment, they had all agreed to take Lae’zel to question the tieflings and examine the grove. Ferelith had calmed the cleric earlier that morning, promising that they would resume looking for the temple as soon as they returned.

The path to the grove was not far and Ferelith questioned how they had neglected to follow it before. But that faded quickly as they passed by many… many goblin traps on their trek. There were nets, poisoned arrows, spring traps… all triggered. Some with blood. There were also abandoned goblin weapons. Also some with blood.

“I think we should take a moment to really prepare ourselves for this tiefling camp,” he said with an overthought of wishful thinking. “Our main goal is information. We don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“Relax, Gale,” Ferelith said while throwing a strap over her shoulder. “I plan to do most of the talking. Then we’ll see what sort of supplies we can grab. There won’t be enough time to cause any damage.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gale whispered slightly to himself with a shrug. “I can think of a few things that might cause some damage.”

She ignored him, rummaging through the items in her pack until she felt the cold texture of leather beneath her fingertips. She pulled at it revealing a neatly folded leather chest piece.

“Here,” she held it out to Astarion.

He took them, a bit disgruntled but willingly. Though he wasn’t sure what she expected him to do as she kept searching through the pack.

“Am I supposed to hold onto these?”

“Put them on,” she directed, otherwise paying no mind.

“Right now?” he dipped his head low as he questioned her, staring at her face while waiting for her acknowledgment.

Ferelith dropped her bag on the ground and turned to address him. “That is my suggestion. Your city clothes likely won’t do you any good out here.”

“You’re wearing city clothes,” he pointed out.

“I’m wearing leather,” she motioned.

And she was right… she was wearing a thick leather corset over her blouse. Her pants were leather. Her thigh high boots were leather. Her cuffs were even leather. Ferelith may have had the look of the Upper City about her, but she did not look nearly as privileged as he did.

“And so should you. One because it offers more protection. And two because you don’t want to look like a total lost cause.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that last part because this is a very expensive doublet.”

“I’m sure,” she grinned lovingly.

Astarion tossed his new leather armor to the side to free his hands and Ferelith went back into her pack. He began to work on his doublet right away. And when Ferelith looked up with a new cloth shirt in her hand, he was already sliding it down his arms. She saw the back of him in his white shirt. His silly white shirt with silly frills around the collar… and the cuffs of his sleeves… and the way that it rode up ever so slightly as he removed his doublet. She quickly recalled the strength of the man when they wrestled in the dirt during their first encounter. But seeing it was… well… nice…

She continued to watch as his hands came up, his fingers loosening the string that kept his collar upright. And found herself fixated on those fingers. Pulling. And then lowering to the hem of the bottom of the shirt. His back flexed and his hands grasped the edges as he began to pull it over his head. Ferelith swallowed… hard… The doublet was not adding anything extra to what she had felt before. The man had been much thicker than she had expected. He was still lean but the cut was quite impressive. So much that she had started to count the curves on his abdomen.

Astarion paused, sensing the heart rate of someone near him increase. And he was no fool to think it was Lae’zel… or Gale. He turned to see Ferelith with crossed arms watching him very intently with her bottom lip very slightly tucked between her teeth. He rose his brow and looked at the shirt she held her hand.

“Oh,” she said softly. “For underneath.”

She held it out to him. And she watched his forearm as he took the shirt from her. Cheeky woman. He rolled the shirt onto his forearms, giving her a little more time before he covered his body with the cotton shirt. It gave him little satisfaction to wear what she gave him. But the desire in her eyes was enough to forgive how itchy it was on his skin.

“Well, you certainly have no shame,” Gale nudged her.

“No,” she she agreed. “I don’t. I’m in the wilderness, Gale. My eyes are hungry, too.”

“Careful. Some of the tastiest looking berries are the most poisonous.”

“Better than death by ceremorphosis.”

The back of Zevlor whisked away, his tail thrashing back and forth with irritation as he left. They had helped the grove defend the gate but it seemed as though the trouble was pointless. The tieflings and druids were at ends with one another, each seeking a way to rid the annoyance of the other. Ferelith had intended to tell the tiefling leader that it simply was not her problem. Though she couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for the lot of them. So she mentioned having a word with the druid left in charge.

“What are we messengers, now?” Astarion seemed the most annoyed of them all.

Ferelith stepped close to him, too close for comfort. It made him shift backward, which is exactly what she wanted. He took several steps back just so she could hiss at him out of hearing range of anyone else. She kept her head down as she spoke.

“Listen. I don’t want to be here surrounded by groveling druids just as much as you do. But we are stuck out here. If we don’t find help soon then we could at least have the tieflings on our side.”

“Not a fan of druids, are we?” he lifted a brow.

“That isn’t up for discussion. Have any more questions?”

“No, no,” he held up both his hands. “Just thought an alliance should have been discussed before our arrival. Rather than my appearance...”

“I don’t think now is the time to complain. Not after seeing those goblins,” she ran a hand down her face.

The goblins were a problem. A massive problem. More than the gnolls Zevlor spoke of.

“It makes no difference. They’re all going to die anyway.”

Ferelith groaned quite loudly. “We are going to die if we’re not careful.”

“She’s right,” Gale interrupted. “It doesn’t help to make a few friends in a time of need.”

“Let’s hit the merchant. Get that information for Lae’zel. And see if we can’t hone in on a cure.”

“What about the healer here that Zevlor mentioned? Or the archdruid Halsin?”

“I’m not letting a damned druid in my head,” Ferelith spat. “Not a chance.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed at her. “Maybe some of us do not hold as much as prejudice as you do.”

The two glared silently at each other only long enough for resentment to settle in.

“We’re wasting time,” Lae’zel interrupted. “Zorru is here. And we grow closer to discovering the location of the creche.”

Ferelith closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If Fian could speak she wondered what sort of opinion he would have about seeking aid among druids. But he couldn’t. And as she realized her hands were aching from how tightly she squeezed them, she relaxed.

“Alright. Let head down.”

Though she gave him one very pointy glare ass he walked past him in the direction of the camp below. Just at the edge were a stack of rocks with various goods spread among them. In front was a gnome. She took a quick look further down noting the scattered tieflings, the goods they carried, and the makeshift shelters they had built into the rock.

“Refugees… adventurers. No one in years. And suddenly, we’re overwhelmed,” the gnome said to them as they slowed, still observing the refugees. “Thank you for beating back those goblins. Most brave of you.”

“Brave enough for a discount?” Ferelith snapped her head toward him.

She could smell the dirt on him. He was part of the druids.

“I… uh… I still have to supply the refugees with what I can. I’m already-”

“Oh, fine. We’re too short on supplies to haggle, anyway.”

Ferelith reached down to untie her coin purse. But stopped. She looked down at her feet and shifted them a bit across the earth. She could feel something. The ritual.

“Are they really locking down the grove?” she turned back to the shop keeper.

“I know it’s drastic… but more monsters seem to terrorize this region everyday.”

“Monsters? More than just goblins?”

“There are gnolls taking out caravans along the Risen Road. Not to mention whatever that crash is bringing in.”

Ferelith reached up, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Is it too much to ask for you to delay the ritual simply to supply me with business?”

When she looked up she met eyes with Astarion who was on the other side of the rock display. The sound of the gnome seemed to drown out. He nodded down toward the table. And Ferelith looked to where he notioned. The weapons were so… basic. And dull. There were a few backpacks. And he had a few meals prepped close to the fire. But everything else was… useless. Even the scrolls. She felt her face turn sour as she looked back up to the rogue. Who was holding… a kitchen knife. He held it up with a shrug.

“It appears these are some dire times,” she sighed, interrupting the gnome.

“You sound just like Kagha.”

Ferelith’s head snapped down the shop keeper.

“Are these the only weapons for sale?” Astarion spoke before she went off on another tangent.

“These are the only ones I am selling,” he said firmly. “There is a blacksmith further into the camp. Though I’m not sure he has much to offer.”

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Ferelith went back to her coin purse. “Here. For the supply pack. And take this locket. I’ll trade you for… two potions?”

It wasn’t much. It was literally all he had. He grabbed the potions from behind him and handed them to her while Gale grabbed the supply pack off the ground. Lae’zel had remained behind them, her eyes scanning the tieflings below. Ferelith knew if she had gone on her own it would have turned out very poorly… and more of those tieflings would be dead.

“What a sad display,” Astarion grumbled next to her as they descended further into the grove.

“Find anything worth pickpocketing?”

“Unless we want to sell it back to him, no.”

“Let’s have a chat with the blacksmith, then.”

“Is the blacksmith necessary?” the gith rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” Ferelith said firmly. “We’re lucky there’s even one here. Perhaps we’ll get luckier and there will be an apothecary. The herbs Astarion found are close to useless.”

“I warned you,” he shrugged.

“Those powdered mushrooms could have killed me.”

“It wouldn’t have been my first attempt to kill you.”

“And likely not the last.”

#astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion slow burn #mc:ferelith #astarion x oc #ferelith writing tag #dwjp writing tag #theurgist

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dragonswithjetpacks · 4 months ago

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#astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 tav #mc: ferelith #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #ferelith screen tag #astarion screen tag #dwjp screen tag

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dragonswithjetpacks · 11 months ago

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*Ferelith jumping up in down in laced up high heel boots*: Do you think they'll be okay?

Astarion: Yeah but why -

Ferelith: *takes off running in shoe store*

#astarion x tav #ferelith #ferrlith moonshade #based off a video i watched of a girl trying on herls #and running through the store

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dragonswithjetpacks · 1 year ago

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This is a gift, you know ...

... I won't forget it.

#astarion #bg3 astarion #ferelith x astarion #ferelith #ferelith moonshade #ferelith screen tag #bg3 oc #bg3 tav #i was just messing with some bw stuff #it looks so cheesy #but i do like cheese #dwjp screen tag #astarion screen tag

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dragonswithjetpacks · 11 days ago

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Chapter V : The Shadow of Doubt

Paring: Astarion x female!mc

Rating: M (18+)

Spice: Slow Burn

One day. It had only been one sodding day. Ferelith lay on her back blinking into the purple sky as the sun rose over the horizon. She lay listening to the river, the birds, the trees swaying in the wind, the sound of shifting bodies as the others began to wake. She rose to her feet, stretching her arms high above her head before heading toward the water to freshen her face. It was cold, but at least it was clean. She dipped her hands into it a second time, splashing it up onto her cheeks when the sound of footsteps over rocks were heard behind her. “Good morning,” Shadowheart joined her, washing her hands in the stream. “For now,” Ferelith teased. “Rest well?” her tone was almost condescending. “I did. And yourself?” “Well enough. But I couldn’t help over hear the chatter,” she shook her hands free of water. “What were you two talking about?” “I’m sorry?” Ferelith ran her hand down the side of her neck.

Read on Ao3 by clicking here or you could click there... if you want.

“You and our rogue companion,” she asked plainly. “I heard you two chatting last night.”

“It was nothing. Just discussing the camp.”

“I see,” Shadowheart stated, but it felt as if she were looking for something specific. “I would be careful with who you confide in.”

“I don’t think you have to worry, there,” she grinned. “It’s a very short list.”

“Good,” she said while rising onto her feet. “Let’s just hope we rapidly find a healer.”

“Agreed. Perhaps once we’ve reached the temple, we’ll have higher ground. We could see if there’s a village nearby.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“It would also be wise,” Gale approached from the smoking fire he had just doused, “to go over the wreckage again for any kind of supplies. We have about another day’s worth before we run out. Unless anyone has a knack for fishing or hunting?”

Ferelith and Shadowheart looked at one another but had no response. The three of them turned in unison to what could be their answer. Astarion was impenitently kicking dirt onto the fire to smother the embers. He had come equipped with a dagger but had found a bow later that evening on their way up the stream. They hadn’t bothered to question his abilities.

“Say, Astarion,” Gale called over to him. “You wouldn’t happen to have any experience with hunting would you?”

“Perhaps,” he said smoothly as he crossed his arms. “Why?”

“We’re a bit short on food. Not a lot of options to choose from here, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have been known to hunt… for sport.”

“Were you any good at it?” Shadowheart muttered under her breath.

“I don’t think it matters if I’m the only shot we have at killing something for food,” he sneered at her. “But if you must know, yes. I am quite good at it.”

Her palm pressed against her cheek as she wiped the blood from her face. The next immediate reaction was to wipe it onto her pants. And there was no though t to it. Nothing beyond ridding the stain on her hand. A problem solved and gone.

The trip the wreckage did not bode well for the party. They found the beach was eerily empty of supplies which meant it had been scavenged over night. In their search they had discovered a part of of the nautiloid that had collapsed. And beneath its heavy flesh wall was a purveyor from the ship: a mindflayer.

The void had left a space that was difficult to fill. And after a restless night filled with the mutterings of hundreds of voices from the past, she began to fill it with rage. There weren’t any more flashes of memories, but there were times she wished there were so that there was a small chance for peace. Just for a few seconds. The longer she went without silence the angrier she grew. And all of that anger had to be taken out on something. So why not the head of an aberration. And it was that final blow that she kept thinking about as the heat brought a sticky layer of sweat across her skin.

“If you have a moment, I’d like to check in,” Gale finally spoke during her silent march.

“Check in?” Ferelith managed a bit of a chuckle through her struggled breaths up the hill.

“You seem to be a bit… troubled.”

A starion and Shadowheart were just ahead. So Ferelith felt no guilt when she stopped, turning to look at her mage companion.

“Troubled… you think I am troubled…”

“I… do,” Gale stated when he caught up to her.

“Have you met very many warlocks, Gale?”

“Eh… a few,” he replied.

“Then you know we’re all troubled. Don’t worry about my well being, Gale. Today is not the first time blood has struck my face.”

Ferelith, Shadowheart, and Gale sat against a large boulder, their backs pressed firmly against it. Their glances among each other were clear: they were tired of waiting. Their scouring through the wreckage provided enough useful tools for the journey, but nothing when it came to provisions. They were no closer to the temple or any sight of civilization. So when Astarion returned to their side, none of them spared their stare of frustration.

“Well?” Shadowheart hissed.

“Two tieflings have someone captured,” he said, glancing over the rock in their direction.

“Do they look like bandits?” Ferelith questioned.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” she questioned, her brow lowered.

Astarion turned his head to the two scowling women. “They looked like tieflings.”

Ferelith rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. “For being isolated in complete wilderness we seem to be running into a lot of people.”

“The crash must have brought them all out,” Gale suggested.

“We can either move on or investigate. Unless there’s a way around?”

“Not a chance,” Shadowheart shook her head. “We’ll push through here.”

“I agree,” Gale nodded.

“Let’s greet our new friends, then,” Ferelith declared.

Astarion watched as she straightened herself with confidence. One foot after the other she strode toward the tieflings. Her lack of fear made him as well as the others struggle in their decision to follow.

“The thing’s dangerous,” one of the tieflings pleaded. “Leave it for the goblins to kill.”

“And if it escapes?” the other argued. “How will you-”

As the attention turned to their comrade, they froze.

“Oh. We have guests, its seems…”

Ferelith simply smiled. “We were just passing through. Hoping you could-”

The words came to abrupt stop. Luckily Gale took over as the words of the captive nearby assaulted her thoughts.

You again. Get rid of them .

It wasn’t the voice she wanted to hear in her head, but it was at least a familiar one . Her attention fell on the comrade she had allied herself with on the ship. The woman githyanki with the large sword. As Gale took over the conversation, Ferelith eyed the trap.

“Could this be something from the ship?” Ferelith interrupted.

“We’re… we’re not sure,” the two glanced at one another. “We were sent out to investigate that blast. And we found her here.”

“What do you intend to do with her?”

“We can’t seem to agree on that,” the male replied.

“It’s dangerous out here,” she looked to the gith. “The wreckage has brought a few aggressive creatures into the area. You should leave this one to us. We’ve fought through the wreckage so far… I believe we could take her.”

There was a snort of disbelief along with an eye roll that came from the githanki woman above them.

You could certainly try.

Shut it.

“Are you sure?” the male tiefling lowered his brow.

“In that cage, I am sure,” Ferelith looked back to them. “But if it doesn’t hold, then at least I know we can manage better than the two of you. You should get back to your camp.”

“Thank you,” she appeared relieved.

“She’s right,” the male said with a nod. “We should go.”

“Be careful out here. There’s goblin traps everywhere,” the tiefling woman said. “Perhaps we’ll see you back at camp.”

“I would like that. We could use supplies. Could you tell us the way?”

“We’re taking refuge at the grove to the north.”

“We’ll see you there.”

Ferelith’s gaze and smile followed them until they disappeared around the ridge. The moment they were out of sight her mask dropped and the disinterested look of a disgruntled scholar reappeared.

“Is there a reason we’re dismissing the tieflings to deal with a githyanki?” Gale asked, leaning toward her as soon as they were out of ear shot.

“She helped me on the ship,” Ferelith replied quietly. “We wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“What do you mean?” he looked at her curiously.

“We fought on the bridge together.”

“The bridge?” he paused as he watched her clamber down the rocks. “Wait… were you the one that sent us through the portal?”

Ferelith looked up to the cage, dusting the dirt onto her thighs. The trap above was simply made. Likely goblin, as the tiefling had suggested. It would be easy to break.

“I was,” she answered.

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“We should help her, then. If she’s as useful as you made her sound.”

“Enough gawking,” the gith narrowed her eyes. “Get me down.”

Ferelith grinned widely. “That’s no way to greet a friend.”

“Release me. Now.”

“Say please.”

The gith stepped away from the bars, crossing her arms with a spiteful gaze. “Never.”

Ferelith turned to her comrades. Gale lifted a brow like a parent ready to discipline. Shadowheart tilted her head to question the decision to set the gith free. And Astarion was completely uninterested.

“It might be a good time to test your aim.”

“I’m sorry?” Astarion blinked.

“You said you had good aim. Shoot the latch.”

His eyes followed to the area where she gestured. The trap was so crude he could honestly hit any of the sticks of its makeup and break the poor woman free. But Ferelith had specified the latch on the bottom. And hitting it meant there might just be the slightest amount of trust. So he drew his bow. Notched the arrow. And released it so quickly she had no time to make any sort of remark.

He was good…

Really. Good.

Free from her prison, the gith woman displayed her grace in proper landing on the ground. Her armor seemed to be intact but her weapon was nowhere to be found.

“The tadpole hasn’t yet scrambled your senses,” she grumbled, rising to her feet. “Auspicious. But the longer we wait, the more it consumes. My people posses the cure for this infection. I must find a creche. You will join me.”

“Lies,” Shadowheart spat. “How could we possible trust her? Just get rid of her.”

“She is a crucial part of why we are back in Faerun,” Ferelith stepped between them. “Without her holding back those hellsboars I would have never made it to the transponder.”

“She would have killed us if not for the tadpoles,” Shadowheart argued.

“And I would have killed Astarion when he pulled his knife on me. But here we are. Brain worms and all.”

“Astarion what?” Gale whipped his head to glare at the rogue.

“No need to dwell on the past,” Astarion shook his head aggressively.

“The creche is the first viable option we have outside the camp the tieflings mention. We should consider it,” Ferelith continued despite the squabble.

“Yes, what is a creche… exactly?” Astarion aided in the redirection.

“It is many things: a hatchery, a training ground, a shelter. Githyanki protocol is clear: when infected with ghaik tadpole, we must report to a caretaker for purification.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Shadowheart interrupted. “We’ve already got information on the camp the tieflings mentioned.”

“This camp,” the gith spoke over the cleric. “That is where Zorru is located. The one the others spoke of. He has seen my kin.”

“Yes… and I’m sure your kin are very welcoming, but…” Ferelith hesitated. “But. Your kind are so foreign to this realm. You should make yourself at home at our camp. And we will investigate.”

“A questioning compromise,” she narrowed her eyes. “But I accept. You have made an ally from Creche K’lir. Few know such fortune. Call me Lae’zel.”

“You may call me Ferelith.”

#astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x mc #astarion slow burn #ferelith writing tag #mc:ferelith #ferelith moonshade #theurgist

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dragonswithjetpacks · 11 days ago

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Chapter IV : A Night With the Magistrate

Paring: Astarion x female!mc

Rating: M (18+)

Spice: Slow Burn

Gale lowered his brow and cross his arms. “A temple? Are you sure?” “From what I could see the structure was very old,” Ferelith spoke in agreement with Shadowheart. “Besides, I can’t imagine what sort of structure would be out here in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like it’s a bakery.” “The luck we all have it was,” he began to stroke the hair on his chin. “I wonder what kind of temple it could be.” “Lathander has temples everywhere,” Ferelith rolled her eyes. “Could be one of his many monasteries.” “It was too small for a monastery. A tomb, perhaps?” Shadowheart stated. “We’ll know more when we see it,” Ferelith nodded.

Read it here on Ao3 or you could just...

“Very interesting. Well, then, perhaps we should retreat to that camp you mentioned making? Then we can plan to find it in the morning. Any ideas?” the newcomer asked.

The mage had an unshakable attitude and observant eye. Ferelith couldn’t help but feel the world was his study. And she would become a subject very soon. That aside, she was relieved to come across someone from the ship that had no interest in stabbing her in the back… no matter how chatty he was.

“Somewhere up stream away from the crash,” Shadowheart suggested.

“I agree,” Astarion added. “If anyone was nearby they’ll be here soon.”

“Then I suggest we get moving. Before we end up walking in the dark or ambushed by scavengers.”

The party was lucky enough to find a small stream that flowed into the river as they hiked up it. The bank was large and just past the rocks was a soft surface made up of mostly sand. With what they had found on the fisherman they were able to set up a small camp. And with the dry driftwood they found near the tree line from previous floods, they were able to make a descent fire. To their luck, Gale had proven to be a rather fine cook. With the buckets of freshly caught fish and a bit of wine he was able to make their first meal rather decent.

As the others had gone to bed, Ferelith had found her thoughts drifting away as she sliced an apple she decided to have for a bit of a snack. Fian was still quiet. The worm was making itself very much known. And she still hadn’t a clue where they had landed. The grip on the knife tightened and her movements became more erratic. She still had her powers, but no patron. Nothing to drown the chatter. And they were getting louder. Chatter chatter chatter. Slice slice slice. It was all nonsense. Even if she could understand it, she couldn’t make out between all the voices. Chatter. Chatter. Chatter.

Slice.

“Oof… are you alright?”

Ferelith snapped back to the fire. She didn’t know where Astarion had come from or long he had been watching. But he had witnessed as she nicked the inside of her finger. She watched the small cut form a droplet of blood. It could have been much much worse.

“I’m fine,” she tucked her knife back into her belt and wiped her finger on her blouse. “Just lost my grip for a moment.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Ferelith turned to send him a warning through her gaze. His blades were sharp… but those yellow eyes were sharper. They were dangerous. Possibly more than he realized. But he would dance around those weapons until he knew how to make them sing to his step.

“So,” he changed the subject, “This where we’re resting. Turning in for the night?”

Ferelith twirled a slice of the fruit. “We are. Does that bother you?”

She turned to face him, popping the piece of the apple into her mouth followed by a crunch with intent.

“No, not at all,” he smiled but he knew it was not convincing enough.

He seemed anxious. Perhaps it was the tension between them since he put a knife to her throat. Or an act to convince their newest member he could play nice. Regardless, she didn’t care.

“Good. Because we’re lucky to have found this place. If we didn’t just fight for lives I’d say it was even quite beautiful.”

“I supposed,” he replied politely with a slight shrug. “I’m not sure what I expected, really. This is all a little new.”

“You’ve never had to camp?”

“You’re from the city as well… is it not also new for you?”

Ferelith couldn’t help but laugh. “ Different circles. Remember?”

“I’m not so sure about that anymore,” he tilted his head. “There’s an elegance of the Upper City about you.”

“A privilege I worked for,” she placed another slice of apple into her mouth, chewing it as she looked into his eyes. Growing bored of his taunting stare, she began to walk away.

“Regardless,” he followed, “nights for us meant bustling streets. Bursting taverns.”

Ferelith rest her backside against the edge of the stone slab before hoisting herself onto it. Astarion leaned his hip against it, his elbow inches away from her thigh. He tilted his head knowing in that position she could not ignore him. And he could see her expression quite clearly. Maybe there would be a flicker of remembrance. But… again, there was none. He wondered if she hit her head too hard that night when she was slammed onto the stone.

“For you… perhaps,” she took another slice into her mouth.

“Come, now. You must admit curling up in the dirt and resting is…” he nodded toward the fire, “a little novel.”

She continued to chew obnoxiously down at him. No vel. That wasn’t the word he thought it was. Like he knew what it was like to sleep on the ground with nothing. To curl up in a gutter on the street.

“We have fresh water. Cover. And we were lucky enough to land the ship on a fishing village. So we have fish and even a bit of gold. And though we are far from any city, we will never be in the dark.”

Ferelith turned her gaze upward. And his eyes traced the shape of her jawline now taking a pause from her fruit. Her profile was so prominent. Her full lips. Sharp nose. And he still could not place what it was about her eyes. They were bright yellow, even in the dark as if they were slightly glowing. Not like a fire… not like embers… it was something else.

“We have the stars,” she said as she looked back down at him. “You should take the chance you have to relax. I am sure the taverns can wait.”

His words struggled to find him for a moment. But they came out quicker than he could straighten himself.

“Oh,” he waved his hand. “I am in no place to rest, yet. Today has been… a lot. I need some time to think things through. To process… this. You rest. I’ll keep watch.”

“Absolutely not,” she clung to her last piece of apple. “You’re not watching a thing. You tried to stab me this morning. So I believe I will be taking first watch.”

Astarion clicked his tongue against the roof his mouth. “Darling… so much as happened. Are you sure you want to risk your well being to accompany me through the night?”

Ferelith leaned forward on the right arm that was supporting her.

“It has nothing to do with you,” she purred. “We’re both elves. So every night we’ll be enjoying each other’s company together… darling.”

The innocence faded just long enough to see his eyes widen with primal instinct. The mark was fighting back. Just as she had before.

“Suit yourself,” Astarion said smugly with a wicked smirk. “I’m sure we’ll drift off at some point.”

“Naturally.”

Showing her boredom in him once again, she sat up and directed her attention t o t he fire. The last apple slice she had been holding onto was now somewhat mush between her fingers. But she popped what she could into her mouth, licking between them to clean the mess off her hand.

Unable to withstand the crunching sounds and the sight of her tongue on her fingers… so close to the small slit on her skin… so close to her blood… it was too much. He left her to gather his own thoughts. A different strategy would need to be played.

Meditation was more than just rest to Ferelith. It was the only moment of peace she had within a days work. It was all she had to keep the chatter at bay. The constant chatter. The very threat to her sanity. If she had lost Fian, it would crush her mind. And as much as she had contemplated how nice it would feel to finally stop that worm from nudging her eye socket, she couldn’t just let go of her control. Though her resilience was not always enough to keep it at bay. She needed Fian. His voice was stronger the rest. Just his sigh… his sigh alone would silence them. She longed to hear it.

But he wouldn’t speak. Every time she found him he was shoved into a corner. Since they had found one another, there was a never a day that had gone by where Ferelith was without him. And now that he was gone, the chatter had grown bold. The sound of the voices were like fingers tapping a gainst her skull. Quiet. But persistant.

“Dammit,” she muttered to herself, sliding her hands from her knees onto the ground in front of her.

There was rustling across the fire. Astarion was still very much awake. Ferelith couldn’t help but bite her lip as if that would restrain her curiosity. She lifted her head to see a book in his hand. And she tilted it to the side to see if she could read the title. But the book fell into his lap. She shifted her attention to find that he was now looking at her with a wrinkled brow to show his annoyance at her disruption of peace.

“Need something?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, sitting up. “I was just taking a break.”

A break. From meditating. How curious for an elf. Curious enough for him to snap his book shut. Ferelith was a warlock with a strange book and smirk full of secrets. It was far more interesting tha n any piece of literature he found on the bodies of the half educated swine in the country.

“A break? I thought you were resting.”

There was a sort of exhausted chuckle that fell from her lips. “Resting isn’t an option. What is they say? No rest for the wicked...”

“If that’s the case, you and I have a long night ahead of us.”

“I’m used to long nights,” she unfolded her legs in front of her.

Astarion raised a brow, causing Ferelith to roll her eyes.

“Distract me,” she leaned forward, stretching her legs as she touched her toes. “What were your long nights like back in Baldur’s Gate? Bursting taverns aside.”

“There we many nights outside of taverns.”

“Oh?” she glanced sideways at him. “Surely not the houses filled with wine and entertainment.”

“Not always,” he grinned. “Some nights were spent at my desk.”

“A scholar,” she said in jest.

“A magistrate,” he corrected. “It was all rather tedious.”

She brought a hand to her chest as she sat up . “Excuse me, then. I must apologize. I didn’t realize I was in the company of someone so formal .”

“I don’t think you’ve told me enough about yourself for me to care about the amount of mockery you’ve just given,” Astarion sneered from across the fire. “You mentioned earning your place in the Upper District. Yet you’ve given no hints about what you actually do.”

“I’m a transcribe,” she replied as she tucked her legs underneath her.

“I’m sorry?” he situated his position as he leaned forward with one elbow on his raised knee.

“Depending on the coin, I transcribe anything from a simple letter to a complex ancient text.”

“Transcribes are quite commonly used in Baldur’s Gate.”

“So there must be something different about me,” she didn’t hold back the confident smile. “I’m not just a transcribe. I’m the Bookkeeper of Baldur’s Gate. I can read nearly every single language written not just on this plane… but others. So yes, I worked for decades of my life to live in that archive. And to see my work sit in the homes among the Upper City.”

“Different circles, indeed. How disappointing…” he shifted. “You seemed like someone I could have acquainted myself with.”

“Yet here we are. Rubbing elbows in the dirt.”

“You have me mistaken,” he straightened himself. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that... these are strange times. And I find myself sitting at fire with you in need of a friend.”

“You speak as though you could acquire one with a sweet word and a simple gesture,” she lowered her brow. “It isn’t that easy.”

“Not outside a tavern, I suppose it isn’t,” Astarion rose to his feet. “Your change in tone is noted,” he brushed the dirt from his legs. “I’m sure we’ll have more nights between us. And there will be plenty of getting to know one another… unfortunately. But I don’t want to distract you any further. Go on with your stretching. I think I’ll take a walk.”

“Don’t stray for long,” Ferelith said sternly. “Shadowheart will be taking watch soon.”

“I have no intention of getting mauled tonight, but thank you for the warning. Good night… Bookkeeper.”

“Magistrate,” she gave a nod.

Ferelith watched as Astarion made his way toward the ruin. To her surprise he managed the log over the stream with ease. There was a natural balance to his strut. And it made her even more curious as to who this pale man was. It was possible he was a magistrate. She had known politicians in the Upper City, but not all of them. But she had never known a politician that was so quick with a dagger.

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Nights beyond the city were far louder than Astarion had imagined. He ventured far enough beyond the camp to know the sounds he made could not be heard by his companions. But he found the nightlife of the forest around him was enough to cover his steps . The goal was to find something to satisfy his hunger. The fish, the squirrels, the boars… they were plenty to keep him alive. But not to keep him strong. He needed something bigger. There were so many different kinds of smells in the forest. It wasn’t like the city where he could pin point the sweet blooded virgins outside the stinking cess pools. This hunt was different. So many heart beats. So many sounds. So many smells. Then he caught it. The fast and solid thump of something larger. His legs pushed against the ground, throwing his body into a sprint towards the beast. The smell was nothing of note, but he could feel the rhythm of its hooves against the dirt. It was close. And it had not the slightest idea that he was at its heels.

Then it slowed. And so did he, not wanting to startle his meal. It stopped. In the beginning, h is focus allowed him to only hear the one heartbeat. Now, as he relaxed, he heard many. Some fast. Some loud. Some small. He crept through the trees until he peered upon a clearing. Within it were several deer. Without horns… he thought they were called doe. One had a fawn nibbling at its underside. They grazed at the edge of the meadow just at the tree line. The buck was nearby, its horns massive and blending with the branches behind it. Astarion remained silent, resting against the tree. The early musings of the night had just begun and he could still feel its haze lingering.

That’s when he noticed it. Just slightly at first. A flicker here. A flicker there. A slight glow in the corner of his eye. He watched the herd move from the clearing into the treeline. The steer looking back at him one last time. The clearing was empty. He missed his chance, not that it would be his last. But he couldn’t help but find himself awestruck at the sight of them. He had never seen a herd of deer like that before. Just as he could no longer see the white of their backsides, the darkness set in. And the f a int glimmer he had caught before now lit up the clearing…

Fireflies…

That’s it.

That’s what it was. Her eyes.

They were glowing like fireflies.

#astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x mc #ferelith writing tag #dwjp writing tag #slow burn #theurgist

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