#astarion/halsin/tav coming later

[thecagedbard]

Oh Look, another Tav story! This is currently posted over on AO3 in its entirety but I thought I’d post it to tumblr as well. If you’d like to sneak a peak at some of the chapter names, if you don’t want to read the whole thing yet, have a listen to the title playlist: here.  There is also just the ‘Here’s what I was listening to while writing' playlist, and my Faetrala Uncaged playlist which serves as inspiration for Vesper’s siblings.  A lot of the songs tend to overlap but who knows, you might find one you enjoy. 

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Astarion/Tav (Vesper), Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/Halsin/Tav(Vesper); Mentions of Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll; Mentions of Gale/AFAB OC

Warnings:  Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Canon Divergence, Child Death

Word count: 12,986/300,000+

Summary: Vesper needed someone to protect her from an abusive husband should he appear after she was abducted by mind flayers. Astarion needed someone to fall for him so he had protection from Cazador. He's got two hundred years of manipulation and she has the soft heart of a lamb being led to slaughter. While subconsciously healing each other they both realize they also need to heal the druid of all damned people.

Chapter Eight

They stayed on the surface a day longer than necessary. After finding a safe area where they could make camp for the night, they snacked on dry rations and tried to keep warm as the moon rose. Astarion had excused himself to go hunting on his own and while the spawn was gone the other companions had a visitor. The cub from the camp came looking for food. Karlach quickly roused Vesper from her sleep and had the bard talk to the little creature. 

Vesper was kneeling before the cub, a hand extended to pet through its feathers when the spawn returned. His appearance alone startled the creature, making it stutter and cry out no before running away. “Aw,” tsked the high elf as he filled the space between the bard and barbarian, “you scared off the little snack.”

“Yeah, it was us…wasn’t it Ves?” Karlach pursed her lips, her arms crossing over her chest. Astarion turned to look at her, a smile ghosting his features, “What?” The tiefling only shook her head before returning to where she’d been trying to sleep.

During her second trial of meditation, a nightmare was projected from the bard to a few of the others, their dreams morphing to view that which haunted the party’s drow. They wouldn’t mention the instance to her directly, though she did catch Shadowheart and Wyll with their heads together as they walked through Ethel’s bog, Gale wouldn’t meet her eyes until after the fight was over, and Karlach kept admonishing Astarion when he would be his normal, bastardly self.

The poison from Ethel’s liar had weakened many of the party, Shadowheart having focused her protection from Poison on Astarion so he could try and disable the vents on the way done–unfortunately, the clouds were so thick in places he just couldn’t find them without kicking the explosive flowers and harming himself, so Vesper asked if they wanted to stay topside one more night before venturing back into the Underdark. No one had declined.

They were a bit braver the second night, Lae’zel joining the bard and Astarion to hunt small animals to cook on the fire. Their makeshift camp wasn’t as quiet or as careful now that they had removed the Hag threat and no one had seen or heard a goblin since demolishing their camp. While the three were gone the other four talked.

“No, no, I saw him as well,” Gale poked at the fire with a stick trying to push the logs closer, “but what did he mean by ‘She’s gone because of you?’ You don’t–” he turned and peered in the direction the others had left in before bending forward, “you don’t suppose she killed someone before all of this?” Karlach’s face blanched, and her eyes rounded, “Vesper? No! No way!”

Shadowheart’s head also shook negatively, “No, you didn’t see her on the nautiloid. There were mindflayer thralls in these chairs in front of my pod. She actually protested when Lae’zel gave them a mercy killing. To even imagine she could kill someone is…” the cleric paused and removed her circlet to trace her fingers along its metal, “no. Her first kills were on that ship. You’d agree, right Wyll, that the first time you take a life it changes you?”  

Wyll had been quiet for the most part but when the cleric called to him, he lifted his head and nodded, “For most. I’ve seen changes in her, for certain. Trying to talk her way out of things rather than follow along…I thought she might actually be able to free that woman for a moment.” He scratched at the base of his horns grimacing as his fingers touched the still-new appendages, “I don’t think she’s killed before this adventure. On the battlefield she is still unsure of where to go, looking to whoever is closest to her and sticking by them even if she gets in more danger. I don’t believe for a second she killed whoever this Mariwen is.”

“Mariwen? You heard the name?” 

“Wait, you’re certain you heard ‘Mariwen?’”

Wyll looked first at Gale before turning his attention to Shadowheart, “Yes and yes…I–it’s possible I experienced an earlier portion of the dream but she said the name. Sobbing over,” the warlock swallowed hard as the memory of the nightmare flashed over his eyes, “a wrapped babe, she kept saying ‘Please Eilistaree, not Mariwen.’”

Karlach turned to Shadowheart expectantly, “Who’s Mariwen?”

The cleric didn’t get the opportunity to answer the question as thudding footsteps pulled them from their hushed conversation around the fire. Lae’zel and Astarion were the first to enter, the githyanki carried the majority of the weight of the boar they had hunted while Vesper brought up the rear and held up three rabbits, “They wanted me to leave them but I’m kind of hoping that the cub shows up again.” 

Gale only gave a nod and pointed to an area for the recent kills to be laid. 

Again, Vesper’s rest was interrupted, this time by Astarion alerting her to the cub’s appearance. With Shadowheart’s assistance, they healed the cub's foot and fed him again. When yet another nightmare plagued the sleeping drow it wasn’t broadcasted to the other companions, it instead roused the meditative high elf nearest her. When his eyes jerked open his hands flexed above him, swiping through the empty air. As the bard’s whimper reached his ears yet again he rolled from his back to his stomach and looked around, expecting to see someone hovering over her or even the owlbear bearing down on her. But the only thing that he saw was how her head jerked to the side while her body was rigid. 

Silently the rogue slid across the ground and moved the bag he’d been using as a pillow to rest next to hers. He chanced a look at the other companions who snored or muttered in their sleep, no one else took notice. Looking over the bard again he wrinkled his nose as he lifted a hand to push the sweat from her brow, freezing when she leaned toward him. Again he looked to see if any of the others were awake, nothing. Laying down next to the bard, Astarion pushed one of his arms under her head and pulled her close to him, tucking her into his side. When she pushed against him, he began to shush her, “Calm darling,” he whispered, his head bending to reach her ear, “you’re fine. I’ve–” his face scrunched as he tried to recall things he had heard one of his spawn siblings say, “I’ve got you.”

His hand ran the length of her spine until she stilled and her breathing eased. If he was tempted to roll her back to her ‘pillow’ she wouldn’t know, because when the sun rose over their little clearing she awoke with her head still resting against the spawn’s chest.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Halsin was relieved to see them once the party returned, a little surprised by the addition of the owlbear cub, but relieved all the same. “Two days without contact and I was beginning to wonder if I needed to bring everything to the mountain pass,” he motioned to the chest they packed most of their stuff into, “I was just about to start reorganizing to make room for everything. You’re all okay?” 

After reassurances from everyone that they were all healthy, Vesper excused herself to set up the alchemy tools and attempt to make a potion that would make them resistant to being poisoned. From where she was she could listen as Karlach told the druid about the dagger they had forged and how Ethel was no longer among the living. “Aha,” Halsin’s uneasy laugh made the bard look up, “Unfortunately you may be surprised to learn that Hags have a failsafe if they ever get injured enough for their forms to die. It’s likely that Ethel has just returned to whatever hell she was born in and after healing she will begin her scheming again.” Karlach’s head fell back as she groaned, “Why can’t evil just stay dead?!”

Vesper turned back from the group to laugh softly. She began picking up the herbs she had, having to keep them from being pulverized since she couldn’t label them. It would be a labor to try to figure this out on her own, a lot of trial and error that they didn’t have the time or resources for. She began muttering the properties of each herb she could remember before hanging her head and sighing in frustration, “Is there something I could, perhaps, help you with?” Halsin’s voice was deep but soft as he crouched next to the drow. She lifted her head and heaved another sigh, “I know there are potions that can make a person pass through poison gases easier, or even keep them from being poisoned at all, but I can’t…I don’t know how to make them.” 

The druid smiled and Vesper tilted her head as she gazed at him, “Then it’s a very good thing I brought those books I told you about. Just a moment and I’ll be glad to help you.” Once he returned he took a seat next to the bard and set the book in front of her, “I might be overstepping, but if you would like I could also teach you how to read this yourself. “ Vesper looked at the book, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar words, “I don’t know. I feel like doing this is taking a lot of your time already…”

“Well,” the druid began, his cheeks flushing just a hair, “I fear if I were to leave the camp I would be rushing you to Moonrise. I have something of a goal-oriented mind, and reaching Moonrise Tower is part of my goal at this current time. But I understand that exploration may be a part of your process, so, with that in mind I had intended to stay here and guard your camp. Keep Scratch and now the little cub company I suppose…though I will admit the newest addition does bring a bit of unease.” Vesper lifted a brow as she began setting her supplies to the side, “The cub? We’ll name him soon, I’m–”

“Not the cub…the skeletal man…”

“Who?”

Her head turned as she regarded Halsin before turning to look in the direction the druid now pointed. Bending down she could just make out a figure near Wyll and Gale’s tents, “What do you—”

“I will meet thee again shortly.”

The voice had been so eerie she thought perhaps it was a dream after being resurrected, but as she got to her feet and rounded the corner to look up the hill to the warlock and wizard’s tents there he stood. A skeletal man stood in dark gray robes, a golden cage over the stretched skin on his skull, his arms and legs were wrapped but she could see how the bandaging was falling in places.

He lifted his head from the scroll he held, “Ah, so we meet again.”

She could feel the presence of the others as they walked to stand at her back. She could hear the whispers, but unlike the rest of them, while they felt panic and unease, Vesper felt…comforted. It was an odd feeling, considering how she felt about necromancy, to begin with, but the creature before her simply looked back down at his scroll and continued to count.

“Vesper? Vesper,” she heard Gale calling to her, felt his hand holding her elbow as he gave it a little shake. She turned. “Who is your new friend and why is he making himself comfortable so near mine and Wyll’s tents?” The wizard was tensely smiling, his lips tightly pressed together, “There’s an undead creature near my things, Vesper…”

“We can take him,” she heard Shadowheart and whipped her head in the cleric’s direction, “No!”

The others all looked from the skeletal man to the bard, she saw the hint of amusement on Astarion’s face. “He was there…when I died,” she said as her eyes shifted back to Gale, “he said it wasn’t my time and I think he sent me back.” Gale coughed as he inhaled sharply and nodded, “Right then…I suppose he may remain…I’m claiming one of the bedrolls by the fire just to be…certain.” He turned his head to look at the others and Wyll was nodding, “As am I. No offense to our new…ally,” his voice lilted in question, “but I’d feel more comfortable near the flames tonight as well.”

The undead took no notice of them after his first sentence to Vesper. He did not look up from his list, he did not speak to them, or even motion in their direction. One by one they all walked away. The bard was the last one, staring at the creature for a moment longer before returning to Halsin’s side so he could teach her something new. 

With the druid’s help, which she thanked him for multiple times as he would read from the book to correct her on ingredients, she was able to start brewing a resistance potion. “Tomorrow, while you all continue to look for the Nightsong, I will see if I can gather more herbs. I’m almost certain some of the ingredients we’re missing can be found here,” he said as he closed the book and set it aside. “Shadowheart mentioned you were taking first watch?” his questioning tone had the bard turning and her head bobbing in the affirmative, “Then I will offer to take over for a second shift. It will give me time to prepare for the gathering and to make a meal that should sustain you all. And if you’d like you can take my tent, I’ve noticed you are something of a light sleeper at times.”

Vesper groaned for a minute and her head cocked away from him, “Sometimes. I didn’t have an easy time before being abducted, sometimes—” she trailed off as a haunted look took over her face before she shook her head trying to shake the memories away. “But I don’t want to impose…speaking of,” she cleared her throat and leaned to the druid, “I know I was extremely drunk during the celebration a while ago, I wanted to talk about it that next day but…” she gestured to the book.

The druid watched her passively waiting for her to continue. “Uhm, what I mean is,” she had a fleeting memory that had come back to her during a meditation; sitting next to the druid and leaning into him asking him borderline inappropriate questions. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with anything I may have said, or done,” she knew she had laid her head against his shoulder at one point and even commented on how warm he had been. Remembering her actions the drow’s cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat again.

Halsin chuckled, the deep and warm sound chasing the awkward silence that she had left. “In no circumstances would your questions have made me uncomfortable,” he said as he leaned closer, she watched his eyes as they moved down her and she felt a chill sweep through her, “if things had been different or it had been another night I perhaps would have—” he stopped himself as he met her eyes again and realized there was a shift in her. “But that is perhaps a conversation for another time,” he cleared his throat and leaned away, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Vesper.” As her own comfort was called into question her face split into a large smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and she shook her head, “I’m not uncomfortable!” 

His mouth turned downward as he nodded to her and tentatively hovered his hand over her shoulder before gently laying it over the fabric of her armor that she had yet to remove. “All the same,” Halsin bowed his head, “tomorrow, if you are willing, I’d like to start your reading lessons.” 

“Reading Lessons?”

Vesper swore softly as she jumped at the new voice that had crept up behind them. She had set the alchemy tools away from the campfire, worried that the smell from the potions would bother those trying to rest or to eat; she hadn’t expected anyone to actively choose to come over to her, and yet here was Astarion. Again, heat flooded her face and she felt it travel down her neck.

Turning to look at the vampire she slowly nodded as she tilted her face downward and stared at his shoes. “I can’t read,” she admitted out loud, the second time in a month she had said that sentence. Illiteracy wasn’t something to be ashamed of in the Isles, tutors were expensive and hard to come by back home. But it seemed in Faerun everyone could at least read the common thorass alphabet, something that had been drilled into her by Issac and his ‘friends.’

Astarion was quiet for a moment before she heard the rustle of cloth and his knees came to share her view of his feet, “Why not ask me to teach you?” His fingers found her chin and tugged it upward. She inhaled deeply and looked at Halsin before looking back at him, “I didn’t want to seem like a bigger burden than I am already. I’m not good at fighting and apparently am easily killable,” Astarion’s mouth twitched as she continued, “I hardly seem worth keeping around if I can’t even read.”

Halsin’s head shook, “Don’t say that. You saved a grove full of innocents…you tricked a drow into being in a vulnerable place.” Astarion nodded in agreement, adding, “The druid is right…but,” his gaze shifted away from her, a thought taking his attention into the distance, “do you know your letters? How to sign your name?” The bard’s head shifted from side to side, “I know my letters…but reading and writing weren’t high on the list of priorities for my parents. Rarely anything required me to sign something so I’d just make a mark if I was told to.”

The corner of the vampire’s mouth twisted upward, “Did Issac have you sign anything? Ever?” He dropped the hand holding her chin up as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. “Did your brother, the one who lost the bet, did he write?” there was another moment of thought and Halsin looked between the two.

“If this is a more private conversation I can–” 

“Halsin, shh!” 

“Octavius learned from a girl in the village. He used to make up poetry and she wanted it written down so she taught him, then he’d sell those same poems…” Vesper said after she thought back to seeing her brother selling sheets of parchment to husbands in the village.

One of Astarion’s knees rested on the ground now and he chuckled, “I may not remember much of my life before Cazador tortured me, but I do recall how the magistrates handled things. Marriages, at least in Baldur’s Gate, had to be registered with a magistrate and both parties had to sign in front of the clerk or a judge. I’m not sure where you and this ‘husband’ of yours lived but—” 

“Rivington, just outside of Baldur’s Gate.”

The rogue’s smile lifted more, “And you never signed anything with him?”

She shook her head, “No.” There was a glint in his eye that Vesper didn’t recognize as he clapped his hands together, “That settles it! If there is no record in the courts of Baldur’s Gate you were no more than a slave. That record will have to be dealt with but I’m sure we can find your paper–”

“Papers?”

“Well, yes, generally when someone is sold as a slave there’s an exchange of the bill of sale, or in your case, it would be the exchange for the loan…”

“What if there wasn’t an exchange?”

Halsin seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable, his brow furrowing as he listened. When Astarion called the redhead a slave he let out a puff of air and the two turned to look at him, “Forgive me. I’ll leave you two to your conversation. Remember, Vesper, I’ll take the second watch and you can stay in my tent if you’d like some peace.”

Astarion watched the druid stand and walk away before looking back at the bard with a raised brow, “I might have ruined his night…” Vesper shook her head dismissively, preferring to return to the previous conversation, “I don’t think there was an exchange of anything paper. I never saw one and Issac made sure I was too…” She swallowed hard, “he made certain I wouldn’t run away even if I was left alone, let’s just say.” 

The vampire reached out and palmed her cheek, “I can understand exactly what you mean. But if there’s no paperwork anywhere, no bill saying that you belong to him or a writ of your marriage to him…you are a freer woman than you ever thought.” Vesper studied Astarion’s face, he was giving her a smile she didn’t think she’d seen before, the lines around his mouth were deep, and his eyes were even crinkled, it was… infectious. “So…even if I went back he couldn’t make me go with him?” she asked and Astarion shook his head, “I mean I wouldn’t allow it anyway, it’s why we’re like this aren’t we?” Vesper flinched and pulled back from his touch, Astarion’s face fell, “I’m sorry, my sweet, maybe that joke was a touch too soon to tell after all. All the same, no. He cannot force you to go back to him. At the very least one of us will be free when this is all over.”

The bard lifted her eyes again, “We’ll kill Cazador.” 

He chuckled and leaned back from her, “Were it only that easy. He is strong, Vesper. When this is done I will run as far as I can, hopefully, his influence is dependent on distance.” Vesper shifted until she was on her knees and she was leaning into his space, “We’re getting stronger. We’ll kill him. I mean, if we can kill a stupid cult leader trying to play as a god what makes you think we can’t handle Cazador?” His head tilted as he gave her a more familiar smile, “You’re sweet. Naive but…sweet.”

A voice called out to them from the fire and Astarion straightened, “Right. I was supposed to come and get you for dinner. Gale cooked again so take your time with…whatever this is.” She turned back and looked at the simmering potion, “Poison resistance…” Astarion made a noise of approval and stood, “Useful.”

After dinner, the others began preparing for bed. Vesper returned to her potion careful to muffle any noises that could wake the others. In total, she had enough ingredients to make a single potent resistance potion for each member of the party, including Halsin. The rest of the night she sat near the animals, petting and soothing them as they slept. Pieces of her conversation with Astarion slipped back into her mind and she felt something she hadn’t recognized in years bloom within her chest. She wasn’t married to Issac. If there was no slave paper she didn’t have to go anywhere with him. She took a deep breath and felt herself fill with that old emotion that had been dashed by the man she’d been forced to be with for ten years.  

Hope.

Sometime during the night, she had found a book with empty pages past a certain point. Whatever this was, she’d found the book buried deep within the trunk, it looked handwritten. With a piece of charcoal from the fire she began to sketch on the empty page. It wasn’t a portrait of anyone, she was never skilled at drawing people, but she did sketch the camp. 

Vesper didn’t know how long she had been up for when she began to yawn. Rubbing her face she could smell the campfire and sighed as she used her other hand to try and wipe the coal marks off her face, she heard a hushed chuckle and looked up at Halsin who nodded to her, “Well met.” He stepped closer, bending to use his cleaner hand, and wiped the smudge from her cheek, “Get some rest.”

Her cheeks flushed again and she nodded setting the book down beside her, “Goodnight, Halsin.” The druid was looking at the sketch she had made before he nodded to her. Vesper stood and walked to the last empty bedroll by the fire, Karlach had come to sleep with Gale and Wyll since they were ‘absolutely not frightened by the skeletal man they hadn’t spoken to yet.’ She was just about to lay down when she looked up at movement just above her, Astarion had stuck his head out of his tent and was waving to her.

She looked at Halsin who was now reading the front of the journal she had commandeered for her art before getting up to approach Astarion. “Yes?” she asked as she crouched at the opening of his tent. “Stay with me tonight…you’ve had nightmares the past couple of nights. While I think it would be hilarious for another one to frighten Gale, I’d also rather not wake up to all of our belongings being burned in a fireball,” he said as he held the flap open, when she hesitated he lifted a brow. “My behavior has been better than my best since the other night, I won’t attack you just because the others can’t see,” his insinuation that she didn’t trust him had her looking to the ground, he sighed, “Come on, little bard, I’m tired and would like to get at least a meditation in before we’re made to keep moving.”

He reached through to the outside and secured the flaps of the tent open before he laid down on the far side of the bedroll. She hesitated only a moment more, sparing a glance at the empty place by the fire before crawling in with him. Lying down on her back she stared at the ceiling of his tent, her body going rigid as his hand pushed a piece of her hair from her face, “Relax,” he suggested, “I…I wanted to ask a favor.” Silently she turned her head to look at him, “I need you to trust me, I swear I won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with…or well, you’ll likely be uncomfortable—” he cleared his throat, “I won’t make this sexual.” 

Her bottom lip was again being worried between her teeth before she nodded, “I trust you.” A small grin formed on his face before it slipped away and he scooted down, lifting her arm just enough that he could lay between it and her torso he placed his head against her breast. Her heartbeat began to race and she waited for a remark, a jeer, or even an unwanted touch between her legs, but the only other movement he gave was to place his arm across her midsection. “Is–is this the favor?” she asked and he hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I just wanted to hear it…your heart,” he said softly and adjusted his head until his ear was flush against her armor. “Wait,” she said as she nudged him. They both sat up and she worked on the belt that held the armor closed, when she laid back down she was only in the leather top she’d been wearing for over a tenday, “Okay.” He looked down at her and his eyes followed the exposed skin between her breasts and down her torso, “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

Astarion laid back down, the sound of her beating heart clearer and the warmth of her skin spread over his cheek. He made no attempts to expose more of her skin, his hand was still as it rested over her hip, his fingers curled around it but not gripping. Vesper felt her heart slowing down. It was okay to trust him to do this. She’d woken up on his chest that morning and was safe, now she’d let him rest on hers and be safe. Her left arm which had been awkwardly extended to the side  moved to wrap against his back and she carded her fingers into his hair. 

She knew she wasn’t the only one with nightmares and never had Astarion welcomed her into his tent. The bard had no evidence to back up her suspicion that he may have had another nightmare, but just as she had done for Carwyn when he was little and had nightmares, Vesper began to hum as her blunted nails scraped against Astarion’s scalp. Her other hand reached for the arm on her midsection and she just held it, her thumb mindlessly rubbing circles. She felt his body stop breathing, no movement came from the vampire beside her and she had to remind herself that he made a conscious effort to breathe while he was awake. It wasn’t the most uncomfortable rest she’d gotten during this adventure, but the dead weight on her chest did make it a bit more difficult to breathe once she’d drifted to sleep.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

“I’m about this close,” Astarion held his gloved fingers practically closed, “to stopping you from agreeing to nice things.” Vesper giggled as she climbed down the stacked mushrooms, “I mean it,” he continued, “We just killed those duergar to exact revenge for these spore people–”

“Myconids.”

“Shut up you walking encyclopedia!”

“Be nice, Astarion!” Karlach called out.

“I am–regardless! We just got revenge on those underdwarves and now he’s demanding we behead a drow,” Astarion landed beside the bard as he continued to rant. “Don’t you feel a little bad, hunting an elf of your own kind? Or has that mind flayer’s potion scrambled your tadpole too much?”

Vesper looked through the myconid village, looking for the area that Sovereign had supposedly opened up for them. When Wyll jumped off the large fungi and landed beside her, “Well if we go by the history known of the duergar, and by that I mean their sometimes relations with mind flayers, it's possible this has something to do with the Absolute.” The warlock paused and turned to the bard, “How do you feel after that potion?”

The drow still had an amused grin on her face before she too paused and took stock of herself, “I feel fine? But also…odd?” Lae’zel stepped around the others to face the bard, grabbing her chin and lifting her face upward to study it. The githyanki didn’t pause as Vesper’s entire body went rigid, nor did she seem to take notice when the others called out to her, “I warned against trusting that ghaik, now you’ve made it stronger. The sooner we get to the crèche and are purified the better.” Just as roughly as she had grabbed the bard, Lae’zel dropped her hold quickly, “We should do this before dealing with this Nere.”

“You don’t get to make decisions like that, Lae’zel,” Shadowheart approached from behind Karlach who was lifting her hands.  “She’s right, Lae, we’ll get to your people…but this dream visitor we’ve been having says there’s no safe way to remove it,” Karlach waved her hands as she spoke, while trying to keep them from everyone.

“Tsk’va! More lies fed to you by the parasite. Purification is the entire purpose of the zaith’isk, once we find the ghustil and you see the power of the zaith’isk you will understand. Without these tadpoles we will be all the stronger to destroy these cultists,” Lae’zel shifted her attention away from the group, signaling an end to her contribution to the conversation. Wyll looked from the gith to the drow before reaching out to the bard, “I saw movement this way.”

Vesper stood at the opening of the area while the others began to go through what was in the once-sealed cave. Gale stepped away from the body in the center, turning a book he’d found in the drow’s possession over in his hands. Standing beside the bard he held it up to her, “The Mating Rituals of Flumphs. Can you make anything out of it?”  The bard looked at him oddly before taking the book and turning a few pages, “Is this a flumph?” she asked pointing to an illustration.  Gale peered over her shoulder and nodded, “It is. Though I’ve never been certain if it was a fey creature or one from the underdark. I’ve never encountered one myself.” 

Vesper continued thumbing through the pages, she paused long enough, she hoped at least, to give the impression she was skimming through the text before handing it back. “Seems alright to me, why?” Gale frowned and opened the book again, “Call it intuition, but something just feels…off.” The wizard quieted again before his attention was grabbed by the dwarves who were packing up their things near the cave’s entrance, leaning toward the bard Gale whispered, “Why did you lie about the noblestalk?”

The bard lifted her gaze and leaned back when she realized how close Gale actually was. “Well,” she whispered before leaning close, “it can bring back memories.” Gale frowned as he turned to look at her before following her eyes as she turned to look at the cleric. “Oh…oh!” he said as he realized the bard’s plan. “Do you think she would do it? 

“I don’t know, but I think she should be allowed her memories…she called it an act of faith, but I don’t know how she can stand so many secrets from herself,” the bard said. Gale’s brow furrowed, “Hmm?” he looked down at the bard before shaking his head, “How are you? Lae’zel was a tad rough when she grabbed you. I thought Astarion and Shadowheart were about to jump to your defense.”  Vesper lifted a hand and rubbed her chin, “I’m fine. She may have surprised me, and I can understand how it could have seemed rough, but she didn’t hold that tight. I could have pulled away if I wanted.” When Gale’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted Vesper rolled her eyes, “Seriously. She…” the bard sighed, “she’s not like those that we fought before. She waited for me to save Shadowheart. Even put herself in the way of hellish creatures so I could make it to the transponder.”

Gale looked away from the bard and instead focused on the others as they finished clearing the room, “I’ll have to take your word for it, and I do. It doesn’t, however, stop me from worrying how things will end up if she’s the first one purified. Her people may decide that with her pure we’re nothing more than fodder for them.” Vesper nodded, a frown forming on her face as if she hadn’t considered that, “That’s…that’s fair I guess.”

Karlach hefted her axe on her shoulders, “We still haven’t seen those minotaurs you found before. Should…should we go looking?”

The others seemed a little weary but Lae’zel was in agreement with the barbarian and eventually, the others came around. Vesper approached the hobgoblin again to ask for directions to the Selunite outpost from the village and they set out. Of course, the one thing standing in their way was a field of torchstalks and timmask plants. The bard hadn’t descended any further once she saw the orange glows, yet she felt the weight of hands on both her shoulders ready to pull her back if she tried to go any further.

The others took out the exploding stalks while she waited on the fungal steps leading out of the village. Omeluum’s ‘bypass’ had nearly consumed her mind when she tested it, even now she couldn’t remember why she had agreed to the kindly mind flayer’s test. All she knew, as the hands at her shoulder pressed her forward, was that the tadpole in her mind had gotten stronger from the mixture of timmask spores and tongue of madness. 

The bard was about to voice that she thought it was the timmask spores in the potion that were befuddling her when she felt a new hand lay on her and her mind cleared. Inhaling deeply, Vesper looked around and turned to see Shadowheart’s hand still extended with an amused grin on her face, “Better? You looked nearly asleep.” Vesper nodded, “Yes, thank you. I don’t think I’ll be trying something like that again.”

She had thought the hands on her shoulders had belonged to Astarion, but now with her mind cleared she could see him ahead of her with Karlach and Lae’zel. Glancing behind she found Wyll squinting ahead, “Can you not see?” Wyll looked at the bard and let loose an embarrassed chuckle, “I had hoped you would be alright being my eyes. Despite my devilish appearance I still lack the ability to see in such a clouded dark.” Vesper looked at Gale, the human wizard walking alongside her, “If it wasn’t for the fact I had to concentrate on the spell I’d gladly extend the ability that the weave lends me to see. Unfortunately, I am not powerful enough to separately concentrate on two incantations,” he gave a tight-lipped smile to Wyll who shook his head. “That’s alright Gale, if it bothers Vesper I can stop,” he tilted his head, but the bard had no complaints. 

Finding the minotaurs wasn’t the hard part, even killing the first one wasn’t difficult. But when the second one leaped from where Karlach and Lae’zel had it cornered onto the path with Gale and Vesper…well, things got just a little dicey. Hearing Gale swear was jarring enough that the bard paused just a moment too long, missing the opportunity to leap away from the half-bull’s hammer swing. It scraped along her back as it crashed into the ground. Crying out she turned towards it and her magic swelled, “You know Gale, I choose to believe in female minotaurs.”

The wizard, recovering from throwing himself onto the ground, rolled over, “Now isn’t the time for a joke, Vesper.”

“C’mon, I have a lass-half-bull mindset!” her voice boomed with the punch line and the minotaur stopped and stumbled backward before its inhuman laugh began spilling out of its maw. “Okay, now we run!” she spun on her toes and began shooing the wizard. Shadowheart stood just ahead of them her mouth agape, shouting, “That was intentional?” Wyll grabbed hold of the wizard with his free hand, “Tasha’s Hideous Laughter, I’ve heard of the spell but never seen its effects.” 

As the spell caster rushed away from the large creature, Lae’zel and Karlach were running towards it. The minotaur, still laughing heartily, fell to the ground, its weapon teetering on the edge of the Underdark’s broken floors. “Good going, Vesper!” the tiefling yelled out as she leaped forward and brought down her axe on the beast. Lae’zel followed behind her, the githyanki’s greatsword coming down on the bull’s neck and then again before the spell’s effect could end. With a sickening crunch, the gith severed the head’s connection with the spine.

Vesper bent at the waist as she heavily exhaled, “Right…well…they’re dead. Now what?” She directed her question to Karlach whose smile shined through the blood covering her face. “Uh…I didn’t think that far, but I just…” she poked the dead minotaur with her axe, “It gave you problems and I wanted to solve them.” Shadowheart and Wyll released exasperated laughs as she looked back up at them with a wide smile.

“Vesper!”

Turning around the bard started looking around, “Yes?” She answered Astarion’s voice though she couldn’t see him, then he peeked over the edge of a natural bridge, “Up here. You’ve mentioned Eilistaree right?” The drow’s eyes narrowed in confusion but she nudged Gale’s arm, “Come on.” The wizard took her elbow and followed beside her, the others not far behind.

A sword was standing still in a stone.

“Something about this, aren’t these offerings to your little dancing goddess?” Astarion looked up from the rock and seemed to pause his gaze on the hold Gale had on the bard’s arm. Neither spoke of the look he gave them as Vesper approached and looked over things.  Shadowheart walked up behind her, “Are you a devotee of Eilistaree?” 

Vesper looked back and shook her head, “Not really. My grandparents on both sides devoted themselves to her when they came to the surface. My parents' offerings were mostly so we were talented, or that’s my understanding.” She turned to Astarion and reached for one of the daggers on his hip, “What are you doing?” He quickly gripped her wrist.  “Oh,” she said as she looked up at him, “it requires an offering…so I was going to give it one.”

Astarion hesitated before releasing his hold and watching her. The bard turned back around and cut into the palm of her hand before placing her hand against the blade letting her blood run down it until it touched the stone. “Don’t look so sad, Astarion, I’m sure she has enough to spare for you,” teased Wyll from the side. The bard giggled softly before gasping as the blade began to slide through her hand, lifting from its stone sheath.

Handing the dagger back to the rogue the bard took the hilt into her hand and released a puff of air.

Feeling a presence behind her, she rested the sword’s blade against her still-bleeding palm, “It says something here but…” she looked up at Astarion who was looking over her shoulder. “Undercommon,” he said, “Gale don’t you have something that can read anything?” The wizard stepped forward and held his hands out, “It’ll take about ten minutes to complete the ritual but I should know.” 

While Gale set up an area to conduct his ritual to cast ‘Tongues’ Vesper remembered what Wyll had teased about and turned to offer her hand to Astarion, “Hmm?” A playful smile danced across her face and the rogue looked at her palm before cutting his eyes back up to her, “Tempting…but no. Heal it you silly elf.” He pushed her hand away gently and climbed down the bridge to look around.

After ten minutes Gale held the long sword up by the hilt, “Phalar Aluve or in less elven terms, ‘Though I have to leave you,’” he turned and passed the sword back to the bard, “‘I will dance forever in Eilistraee's light.’ All yours, dear Vesper, unless you wanted to pass it on to someone else.” The bard took it into her hands again and looked at each of them, “Anyone for it? I wouldn’t mind using it but it's much larger than this rapier…and well,” she motioned to her shoulders.

“When will you get rid of your weakness?” asked Lae’zel as she stepped forward. The gith took the sword from Vesper’s hands and spun it in her grip. Frowning she offered it back, “Any perceived weakness could prove lethal once you are in the zaith’isk. It would be wise to get rid of it.” Vesper’s eyes grew round, “I thought it was supposed to purify us?” Lae’zel nodded, her face still devoid of emotion, “And it will. However, istik, your diminutive build will already prove to be a problem for the githyanki technology. It may decide that you, yourself, need to be removed and purified.” Shadowheart bristled, “Are you calling her weak? You’re no larger than she is, Lae’zel! How is she considered weak and you aren’t?” Lae’zel lifted a brow and her head tilted, “I am made of Vlaakith’s strength and power. I have honed my body to endure. We have already seen Vesper fall once.”

“Because Gale threw her into a torchstalk!”

Karlach raised her hands, “Alright, alright, ladies…” The tiefling stepped between them, “It’s not up to us when or if she removes the collar. It’s her choice.”

The bard was staring at the gith’s back, the fighter having turned to face Shadowheart. Muttering to herself she healed her hand and turned to follow after Astarion. “Hey,” she called to him as he was bent over a skeleton, picking something from the pile of bones, “Think we’re ready to go kill that drow?”

He lifted his head and shrugged, “Are you ready to kill your own kind? It’ll just be us this time, no tieflings to help like with Minthara.” Vesper rubbed the side of her neck, “I’m not thrilled about the idea of killing at all, but they’ve got those gnomes,” she ignored the look of disgust on the high elf’s face, “and they’re destroying the Sovereign’s people. Besides, if they’re with the Absolute…it might get us closer to a path for Moonrise.”

Astarion shifted and looked behind her before picking up a skull, “Think Shadowheart would like a Selunite skull?” The bard lifted a questioning brow before the rogue shrugged, “Probably not,” and tossed it behind him. He reached over and picked up a rusted dagger before pocketing it and standing, “Well,” he motioned to the others as they approached, “seems like it's time to cross that dark lake. Anyone sitting out?”

Shadowheart looked at the others, “Perhaps we camp one more night before crossing. There’s only one boat and we need to be prepared in case we can’t come back straight away.” Vesper nodded in agreement, “And,” Astarion added, “we need to check the last of these notes on this forge we keep finding. Decide if we’re going to search for it or not.” Gale nodded, “I can agree with that plan. Though I haven’t exhausted my use of the weave today, it would be most useful for us to be as prepared as possible. Ruins surrounded by duergar won’t likely be the safest place for the likes of us. Vesper notwithstanding.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” questioned the bard rather quickly.

“I mean no offense, it's just…well, I suppose they don’t exactly have the best relations with the drow, but if they’re absolute followers it seems like she’s been placing dark elves in positions of leadership. We may need your voice to get past all of this quickly,” Gale explained as quickly as he could. He hadn’t meant to cause harm with his words, but the bard’s face had fallen just a bit. “I know you aren’t Llothsworn, we all do, but they won’t know that…not if you adopt that facade you put on before and perhaps that face you had before?” he offered.

“My sister’s face,” the bard adjusted her hold on the long sword. Gale’s head tilted, “Your sister doesn’t have your complexion?” Vesper shook her head, “No…Octavius and Yasmine look like dark elves like we’ve met. Paler, but still they have ashier skin than I do…well you saw her.” Karlach cleared her throat, “Let’s talk about it at camp.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

It was late when they finally got to the talk. Gale retired to his tent, he’d had a conversation with Withers that morning and was now comfortable being near the new member of the camp, to sort through his spell book to decide what was best for him to prepare in the morning. Not to mention a few scrolls he had purchased from Blurg.

Wyll and Karlach left with Halsin to get any gatherable herbs. Karlach went mostly for the protection aspect, and she liked talking to Halsin.  Shadowheart had joined Vesper in her little alchemy corner, at least she had been there until the third time the bard asked her to reread the directions to the potion, “You have two eyes, Vesper, you can read it yourself.” After that she’d gotten up and left, leaving the bard embarrassed and flushed in front of the small steaming cauldron she’d been kneeling in front of her. 

While the cleric was still muttering about forgetful bards, Astarion stepped from his tent and looked from the Sharran’s tent to where the bard sat with her hands in her lap. He moved closer and sat down, “What happened?”

“Timmask spores…not as strong as being hit with their full force but I inhaled just a little while pulverizing them…I–” she looked down at her lap, “I keep forgetting what she said.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, “And I can’t read it so I don’t know what the next step is and now she’s upset and I–” her eyes closed tightly as she held her breath trying to calm herself. Astarion reached forward and picked up the book, “Get your tools. I’ll read it to you.” She looked up at him and caught his eye, her lip quivering before she bit down on it, “Thank you.” 

They worked quietly, she’d purchased herbs from the dwarven woman in the myconid village. It was purely out of guilt for lying about the noblestalk. Vesper knew the value of the rare fungi and when the woman had lamented how they would be down there even longer she knew she needed to do something to make up for it. When she was finished with the greater healing potion she sat back on her heels and sighed, looking over at the elf beside her, he was flipping through the pages of Halsin’s book. She wasn’t sure if it was the spores still in her system that gave her the courage or if she just didn’t expect him to react harshly; the bard leaned close and quickly pressed her lips to his cheek. Sitting up again she cleared her throat, “Thank you, again, Astarion.”

The rogue had pause, his eyes wide and his fingers holding one of the books pages aloft as he’d been the process of flipping it. “You’re more than welcome, my darling,” he grinned, “was that my payment for helping or were you just feeling generous?” His smile grew as he watched her cheeks flush. “Don’t tease me,” she practically begged as she lifted her stirrer to attend the potion again.  Astarion placed the book down and let his hands rest behind him, holding him up, “And why not? It’s practically the most fun I can have in this camp…you haven’t wanted sex so I have to get my pleasure somewhere.” 

Her head jerked sideways as she stared at him before turning to look away, “How do you even know…” 

“Hmm?”

She swallowed hard and leaned over some of her other ingredients gathering them together for another potion, “How,” she lowered her voice, “how do you know when you want to have sex?”

Astarion frowned. His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, “Are you saying you don’t feel desire for me?” Vesper inhaled deeply and set everything in her hands down, “Not so loud, please.” He chuckled. 

“There are things I want to do…but I don’t know,” she frowned, “I feel ridiculous trying to explain. Never mind. Forget I said anything, please.”

The rogue looked away and took a breath, “I know how you feel…in a sense.” He glanced back at the rest of the camp, Shadowheart was messing with the prism again and Lae’zel was once against sharpening her long sword. “I didn’t always want to bed Cazador’s victims, but they weren’t all terrible,” he admitted and looked back to Vesper who was twisting a rag in her hands. “Did you never enjoy sex? None of that bastard’s friends give you a good time?” he asked cautiously.  She shook her head, “He had one. A man started coming around with him and he was kind to me.” Vesper lifted her head as her eyes unfocused, “He paid me compliments, would help me take laundry off the line if I was outside and he came to see Issac. Even told Carwyn not to speak to me so harshly a few times…”

She looked down at her rag again, “He would come by when Issac wasn’t there…tell me things he thought I deserved and said some of the kindest things. But then he tried to kiss me…” her hand reached up to the corner of her mouth, “he didn’t like that I didn’t want him to touch me. None of them kissed me…none of his friends anyway.” Astarion leaned close, “Except the one you imagined.” Vesper nodded. 

Astarion exhaled heavily and sat back again, “Hmm. That does throw a wrench into things doesn’t it…” The bard turned, and her knees pressed against one of his, “There are times when I do want to kiss you. I may not have had sex when Issac took me but I had kissed someone…I know when I want to do that, but I don’t want to push myself on you.” The rogue chuckled, “My dear, push yourself all you like.” His laugh ran through her as she dropped her head again, “What I mean is I know when I want to do that, but not…anything else. Not yet.”

She knew she was being watched by the vampire’s spawn. When her gaze drifted just behind her lashes she could watch him he leaned forward and rested his hands on his fist, “Can we work on that? Despite some of the horrible bedmates I’ve had…I do enjoy some of the carnal acts of desire. And as I told you before, I want to know what you really sound like instead of those shouts and screeches you were making in the woods.” 

“Uhm,” she felt his fingers under her chin and nearly fought against him before letting him pull her head up. He was so much closer than she’d realized, his nose grazing against hers, “I can only imagine just how sweet your blood is in the throes of passion.” His lips grazed hers and her heart began to pound in her ears, her breath catching and the heat that she normally felt in her face raced through her extremities. “My little bard, I cannot wait to drink you up,” he smirked, and their eyes met as he opened his, “and I don’t just mean your blood.”

She felt his tongue ghost against the seam of her lips and gasped in a silent breath. Noises from the camp's entrance had him backing away for just a second before he turned her chin and pressed a kiss to the scar on her lips, “Soon?” Dumbly she nodded and closed her mouth tightly, when Astarion turned and got up she pressed her hand to her chest and turned back to the table nearly yelping when his voice was a whisper in her ear, “That, love, that is desire.” He tugged a strand of her hair before walking away.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

During dinner, Karlach pulled out of her pocket a grouping of vines. “Right, so we need Vesper to go on the boat just because she’s a drow right?” she asked and looked at Gale who nodded as he spooned a mouthful of ‘sad soup,’ Astarion had taken to calling their underdark meals as such, “Right. I should probably also go, I nominate myself only because I don’t believe our resident bard can cast a teleportation circle.” Vesper shook her head as she ate and looked at Karlach, “What are those for?” 

The tiefling glanced at Halsin before clearing her throat and holding them out, “We were talking about it on our little gathering trip. Since we probably all want to go if only to make sure the rest of you are safe, Halsin suggested drawing straws to see who goes. So, there are two short straws for those that will be going.” Lae’zel tutted and rolled her eyes before reaching over and quickly plucking one out of Karlach’s fingers, it was a very short vine. “Right then, one more short one…Lae’zel…” Karlach made a face at the gith before looking at the others, “Unless someone can make a compelling argument as to why they should go.”

Vesper looked around the campfire before the others reached out to grab for the vines. Shadowheart held up her short straw and the others threw theirs into the fire. Astarion stared at them and then turned to Vesper, “Finish eating, we need to work on your lock picking.” He sat his bowl of soup in front of Scratch before getting up and returning to his tent.

The bard frowned for a moment and turned her bowl up to her lips, “He didn’t mean right now, did he? You can take your time to eat at least,” Shadowheart said as she watched the redheaded drow. Halsin chuckled, “He’s in his right to be worried. I’ve not seen them apart since I joined your camp.” Vesper choked on the last bit of broth and brought her bowl down to look at the druid who was smiling. Wonderful, she thought, someone else to tease me.

She felt the tadpole wriggle and Karlach and Wyll began laughing, Wyll tilted his head, “Well it’s only because he’s saying what we’ve all seen. You and Astarion are close…it’s nice to see he cares about someone other than himself.” He turned his attention to Halsin, “You’re right though, this will be the first time he’s been left behind in camp…hell, it’ll be the first time for several of us, actually.” He looked at Lae’zel and Shadowheart, “Will you two be alright without Karlach as a buffer.” “T’chz.”

“I hardly need a babysitter, Wyll. As long as Lae’zel stays on her best behavior I’ll have no reason to knock her into the Ebonlake.”

Vesper shot the cleric a pleading look and Shadowheart sighed, “Fine. Yes, I’ll behave…as long as she does.” Lae’zel made another noise of difference, “We are allies as long as we have these tadpoles, though if your usefulness runs out I may have to dispose of you.”

Karlach looked between them, “I’m rethinking the vines.”

Vesper shook her head, “Don’t. They’ll be fine. Right? Because without either one of you, things could go poorly for Gale and me…” She gave each of them a pleading look and Lae’zel lifted her chin, “I will remain nonhostile to Shadowheart if you agree to remove the collar.”

“I’m leaving,” the bard muttered as she stood quickly and walked away toward Astarion’s tent, the high elf now standing just outside his tent with a pair of gloves, a set of thieves tools, and an ordinary chest lock in his hands.

Halsin looked around the campfire and frowned, “What is the matter with the collar she wears?”  Wyll shook his head when Shadowheart opened her mouth, “She was upset when she found out you told me.” The cleric sighed and shook her head, “Halsin is a member of this team now, isn’t he? He needs to know about her shortcomings…” Turning to the druid she began to explain what she knew about the bard. The druid’s jaw set in a hard line as he listened, and his eyes glanced over to the two elves.

“If it’s simply sealed together, surely it is something that can be removed easily,” he said as he watched the bard, “and I would hardly call an accessory like that a shortcoming.”

“It hides her broken collarbone. Or rather, her poorly healed collarbone.”

Even at this distance, he could see the bard’s shoulders straighten, and her ear turned towards the fire, her chin down as far as it could go.

“A poorly healed injury is also not a shortcoming,” he said to the cleric. Halsin turned to look at Shadowheart, “I have seen you flinch when that mark on your hand flares. Do you consider it a shortcoming?” Shadowheart looked down at her hand and blanched, “No.” The druid bowed his head, “Then why would you consider her injury to be a shortcoming?”

Shadowheart had no answer.

Lae’zel sighed, “It needs to come off, no matter how anyone thinks of it. Her shoulder needs to be healed if it can, lest something happen to her in the zaithisk.”

Karlach smiled, “It’s almost like you like her Lae.” The githyanki tsked and lifted her chin again, “She has impressed me since reuniting after the nautiloid. Though I prefer battle to be won through bloodletting I can respect her magic.”

Gale, who had been quiet up until now, chuckled, “Agreed…though she could use some better jokes.” Wyll hummed from his spot by the fire, “I dunno…lass-half-bull was pretty funny.” The tiefling laughed and nodded, “And her mockery is getting better. Probably saved my ass today with those dwarves.” 

Across the camp Vesper listened, she could feel Astarion’s hand on her knee, her own hand was over his. When she turned back she was chewing on the inside of her cheek, “Don’t listen to them. The druid’s right.” She glanced up at Astarion and spared him a tense smile before she focused on the lock again, “Is he though? I’ve got a perfectly useful sword today…can’t use it because I can’t even lift it properly.” The lock finally clicked and Astarion pulled it back to reengage the lock and held it out once again, “Again. Taking off the collar is your choice. Everything is your choice now,” he told her as she bent over his hand and began working on the tumblers inside the lock. 

“Should I agree to what Lae’zel said?” she asked as she stuck the tip of her tongue out from between her lips.  “It’s your choice…I won’t deny I’d like you to remove the collar only because I worry about your fragile little wrist.” When the lock popped open again he took it away and reached behind him for another one, “Again.”

“How many of these do you have?”

“When it took you longer to just pick a lock than it did for me to disarm a trap and open the lock…I began collecting. Less talking more picking,” he pushed her head down and grinned when he heard her snickering.

“But, if you weren’t so beholden to keeping your promises…” he tilted his head before reaching to adjust one of her hands, “you could agree to it and then just never do it.” She looked up at him for a second before looking back down as one of the tools in her hands became tight, “I can’t do that. All I have is my word…literally, I own nothing.”

Astarion glanced over her head and saw the others were tossing looks in their direction, “Perhaps. Maybe I’m looking to corrupt you just a little bit, after all, in all my years visiting taverns of Baldur’s Gate, you must be the most squeaky clean bard I’ve ever met.” he sighed and shook his head from side to side, “Fine, besides the pickpocketing and the lock picking….it took you too long,” he said as the lock finally popped, “try again.” 

He glanced up again and raised a brow, “Gith coming.” Vesper lifted her head to look at him before turning, Lae’zel had her arms crossed over her chest, “Karlach is threatening to go against her own set rule if I do not agree to ‘behave.’ I still pose that I will act as you expect of me if you remove it.” Vesper took a deep breath and looked at Astarion who cast his eyes away from her, she looked back to Lae’zel and nodded.  “Fine, but after we deal with the drow,” Lae’zel nodded once and left the two to their devices, returning not to the fire but to her tent.

Vesper sighed again and looked at Astarion, “Why do you want it gone anyway?” The rogue lifted his brow and looked towards her neck, “I wasn’t lying, I worry about your wrist.” He lifted her hand and tugged the glove off, she could see healing puncture marks. “I will admit your thigh was much more enjoyable, and perhaps it’s the spawn in me…” he leaned closed and whispered, “I like necks.” The bard pursed her lips as he leaned back before she began to shake with laughter, “Really?” He nodded, “Your neck is a mystery to me…it could end the whole thing if it's not enjoyable.” He looked away from her but allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk upward, “Then who will I enjoy? Halsin has a nice throat I suppose…think he’d let me have a taste?” He turned to the bard who was now covering her mouth to keep from making noise.

Vesper let Astarion drink from her that night, ignoring his teasing about how she tasted. She also ignored his advances about ‘pleasing’ her but did give in when he told her to deny him a kiss. Part of her had expected it to go beyond what she was comfortable with, but the high elf had sweetly pressed his lips against hers before pulling away. “Go prepare for your watch before I don’t allow you to leave,” he goaded her as he pushed her away. The bard laughed softly as she left him for the evening.

After bottling her potion, the drow walked quietly around the campsite careful not to disturb those around the fire. After her round was finished, Vesper did her best to sneak out of the camp proper, shushing Scratch and the owlbear cub as she left. She didn’t go far from the protected entrance, Shadowheart’s warding glyph pulsating as her feet scuffed across the arcane ward.

Perching on the naturally formed bridge that led to their cave Vesper pulled her knees to her chest and let her fingers dance across the bottom of her collar. Words from Issac and his family rang between her ears as she touched it. Memories of the way her neighbors looked at her flashed behind her eyes. She was so lost in thought she nearly leaped forward when a blanket was dropped over her shoulders, “Whoa! Don’t–” Halsin’s sleep-deep voice nearly echoed in the chamber they were in, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Scratch was worried about you being alone,” he said as he crouched down beside her before fully sitting, his legs hanging over the edge.

“I didn’t mean to worry him…or you, or wake you up at all,” said the bard as she tugged the blanket over her leather-wrapped shoulder. “I wasn’t resting yet, attempting yes, but I had not yet reached reverie,” he told her before he glanced in her direction, “Vesper…may I ask an uncomfortable question?”

She could already hazard a guess as to what he wanted to ask. Glancing at the large druid she inhaled deeply and nodded, “Of course, you’ve helped me a lot recently. How could I say no to a question?” Halsin’s frown deepened but he pressed on, “Your companions seemed to have concerns about the collar around your neck. An injury, no matter how grave, shouldn’t be hidden in shame. It’s a mark of your survival…”

It was exactly as she’d been expecting. Nervously she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and listened. Halsin reiterated himself several times, that she shouldn’t wear the collar just because she’s ashamed of the scar her collarbone left. Finally, she held up a hand, “Halsin… it's not because of the injury…” The druid stopped talking and waited, when she didn’t continue he pressed, “If not the injury…why? Even Astarion told you the other night you are not beholden to this man you called a husband…” The word ‘man’ was hesitantly said, as if Halsin were trying to come up with a word befitting his thoughts on the image he’d created of Issac from the little information he’d been given.

“I may not be ‘beholden’ to him as you say,” she reached through the blanket and touched the collar’s edge, “and yet he does have a hold.  But…” she let one leg fall off the edge of the bridge and the other adjusted as she turned to the druid. It was time the others knew the truth, might as well start with the one who was talking to her now. “When the collar was sewn together the woman who did the work sewed deeply, running the threads through my shoulders. When I complained…well,” she could hear Issac’s mother’s laughter, “she didn’t care. So removing it isn’t exactly a simple task…and I’m a bit of a baby when it comes to pain.”

Vesper watched the druid’s face as it shifted from curious understanding, to rage, and finally softened into a sympathetic smile for the bard. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand as it raised and carefully rested against her shoulder, his weight held so as to not put pressure on the blanket or leather, “I am deeply sorry for your pain. I can only imagine…” he paused and removed his hand as his chin fell, “this was not the first cruelty you experienced?” When she shook her head he sighed, “Nor was it the last,” she said in a hushed whisper. “But, believe me, Halsin…when I say it was far from the worst cruelty I experienced before this tadpole…besides Astarion, I may be the only one thrilled with the turn of events…not that I want to be a mind flayer, of course.”

From where she sat, Vesper could have sworn that Halsin was having an internal crisis. She lifted her head to look at the druid fully and reached out placing her hand against his bicep, “Don’t feel sorry for me, Halsin.” The druid shook his head, “I just…I cannot help but wonder what else he put you through.” Her eyes widened as she thought about it all and she had to shake her head to release herself from her thoughts, “Oh, you know…daily physical harm just because I slept wrong or allowed our son to be a child and make noise when he wanted silence.”  “You had children?”

The bard’s head nodded, “Yes. Three little babies all at once…” She looked away with a melancholic smile, “Of course, I only have the one now.”

“Childhood can be very hard–”

“Childhood didn’t kill them…” she quickly corrected him before biting down on the inside of her cheek. “Mariwen was the weaker of the three—” “Triplets?” asked Halsin as he leaned closer, the bard’s voice was softer as she recalled her children. “Yes…not unheard of in my family,” she glanced at him before looking away, she could feel the burn in her eyes, “Mariwen was the weaker one but she was still so strong, my sisters always told me that the more babies cried the stronger they were…so when she got sick and just kept crying I didn’t mind. The other two got over their illness, but not Mariwen. I thought it was fine, that her crying would come to an end but Issac…” she blinked rapidly and swiped her hand over her eyes, “Issac threw us both into a room and barred the door so we couldn’t get out.”

Vesper refused to look in Halsin’s direction as he scooted closer to her, when his hand warmed her back through the blanket she bowed her back to keep it off of her, “I didn’t hear the buzzing until her cries were screams.” She took in a shuddering breath, “Hornets had somehow built a nest beneath the floorboards…which I still find so interesting considering the room we were in was mine and I had just cleaned it the day before…no buzzing. No hornets. But somehow it was my fault for not keeping his home free of pests.”

Halsin said nothing. When she bowed her back to get away from his touch he pulled his hands back, “What happened to your other daughter?”

The bard gave him a pained smile and laughed humorlessly, “Isn’t that a question I would love to know.” She turned her eyes to the druid and tilted her head, “After burying Mariwen I didn’t want the other two to get very far from me. So I’d have them sleep in my bed rather than their crib. For Issac, I learned how to sleep like a human, he has always hated the idea of meditation and reverie, so I didn’t hear the men when they came in. I didn’t know they were there until the one nearly stabbed through my neck and he ripped Ffion from my arms.” The druid sucked in air and she reached out to pat his arm again, her hand was quickly covered by his, “I wanted to go after them. But they said they’d take Carwyn too or kill me and leave him to die…Issac was going to be gone for weeks. The only person that would come by would have been his brother…Evard didn’t care about the children.”

She licked her dried lips and shame colored her face, “I chose to save my son…to save myself and I let them take Ffion away from me.”

Her hand was slid down Halsin’s arm until he held it in both of his hands, “You were given an impossible choice. To go after your daughter it would have put more lives in danger. There was no right decision to be made.” He heard another scoff from her and she turned to look at him, “If only it had been you instead of Issac…he believed I should have found a way. Should have thrown myself at those men, given myself to them in hopes that they would have been satisfied with the drow whore of Rivington.” A rebellious tear streaked down her face and her hand rushed to catch it.

“After that of course, I never did anything that would put Carwyn in danger. I gave Issac whatever he wanted the moment he mentioned it…no matter how much I hated it…or it made me hate myself,” when Halsin opened his mouth she guessed his question and shook her head, “It didn’t stop the abuse. This collar happened after my girls were gone…after Carwyn turned four he was taught to hate me. They taught him to not listen to my instructions and then he would get angry because I couldn’t control my child.” She looked at the druid and stretched a smile across her face, “But I have to be happy. Because I’m alive…my son is still alive. Now I’m free from him and of them.”

Halsin’s hands warmed the one of hers he still held. His thumb massaged the lower portion of her palm and he had cast his eyes downward. “Yet you still cling to that which was to shame you,” his words weren’t meant to be accusatory but she flinched all the same. The druid released her hand and patted the top, “You’ve made an agreement to remove the collar, but if I may…I don’t think that you are ready for its removal.” 

She didn’t answer.

Silence fell between the elves before Halsin made to stand, “Come. I can keep watch tonight and rest while the rest are in camp tomorrow. We don’t know how long it will take for your boat to cross the Ebonlake. You need all the rest you can get.” Vesper wanted to deny him, but old habits are so hard to kick. Even with Astarion’s help she still had difficulty turning men down. Standing she dusted off her backside, “I’m sorry if I ruined your evening…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Halsin turned to face her, he’d nearly made it back to their camp’s entrance. “Knowing what someone has gone through can help when that person is struggling. For instance, now when Astarion’s barbs get a little more… ambitious I know that I should probably stop him before he truly hurts you.” He held an arm out to the bard and his fingers curled, “I won’t leave you out here alone, but it’s much safer within the wards.”  

She tucked the blanket around herself tighter and followed the druid, he paused at his tent before he shook his head and guided her to Astarion’s, “The others think you have fewer nightmares when you’re beside him.” Vesper frowned, “How would they know I’m having nightmares?” Halsin lifted a brow and then tapped his finger softly against her head, “Apparently your parasite likes to share that information with the others.”

The already pale drow blanched further, but she nodded, “Thank you. Here,” she passed his blanket back to him before crawling into the rouge’s tent. Even though her staying with him that night hadn’t been discussed, Astarion had kept the second bedroll beside his, the cushion she used to pillow her head lay next to his, and the threadbare blanket was folded exactly where she had left it that morning. She tied the opening closed and sat back on her heels until she felt Astarion’s nails trail up her arm, “Lie down…get some rest.”

“How much of that did you hear?” she asked as she followed his orders, her knees curling upward as she threw the blanket over herself.

“Enough to know these next few days will be awkward until you address the others,” he said sleepily. His head turned and he opened his eyes to glance at her, “Come here. You’re going to worry about it for too long and be exhausted come morning…Lae’zel will blame me.” Astarion allowed her to curl against him, only reaching down to bring one of her knees up to rest on his thigh, “Comfortable?” he asked before laying his head back down. The laid there in silence before he sighed, “Close your eyes or I’ll kill you and have Halsin revive you come morning.” When her head shot up he looked at her, “It would be peaceful…bad timing?” She nodded and he wrinkled his nose, “I won’t harm you. Just close your eyes and count your sheep…”

Getting to sleep wasn’t easy for the bard. Guilt over subjecting the party to her dreams ate at her, but Astarion’s nails scraped against her scalp just as she had done for him previously. He found a rhythm that finally lulled the bard to sleep. Glancing at her once her breathing evened out, Astarion frowned and looked at his hands. Comfort from his hands.

“How odd…”

[aboxofcereales]

me: I’m playing Baldur’s Gate 3 for the plot

the said plot:

[shizuu-chann]

Welp, finally finished BG3 for the first time in three playthroughs 😅 everything I read was right: I'm not satisfied with the ending at all! 🙃 Even the "good" ending is bittersweet and I'm not for it.

Time to replay from the beginning and mentally rewrite the ending~

[kirain]

Ilithid Tav: Do you still love me?

Shadowheart: I'm willing to try, but...let's be discrete about it. Maybe put a bag over your head.

Lae'zel: I'm out. Later.

Wyll: Yes, but...let's stuff you in a corner somewhere. I'll visit when I can.

Halsin: ...Let's take it slow.

Karlach: To the hells and back. No, literally. Come to hell with me.

Astarion: Gods you're ugly. Are you even still you? I guess we can try it, but I'd rather be friends.

Minthara: Of course. I'm a freak in the sheets. Now let's go kill something.

Gale: PUBLIC WEDDING! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! NOTHING WILL KEEP US APART!

Art by: Varlfhanred

[world-of-shadows-and-music]

Male Companions Responding To Your Pregnancy Announcement

Here are some headcannons I have for the Male Companions + Zevlor responding to your's/Tav's pregnancy announcement. I have a few more ideas I want to write out for the week so we will see how that goes.

Wyll

Legit might start crying when you tell him you’re expecting.

He smiles so big and bright before scooping you up in his arms and spinning you in a circle.

He is (carefully) rubbing his face against your stomach and whispering to the little baby bump.

He will not let you do anything on your own once you have the smallest of bumps.

He understands you don’t need his help, but he will offer it no matter what.

Once you get later on in your pregnancy, he is constantly rubbing your belly and telling them stories of his adventures as the Blade of Frontiers.

Once you get close to your due date, he will not leave your side cause he doesn’t want to miss anything.

He is there to hold your hand and help you anyway he can when you go into labor. Whispering how well you’re doing and that you are almost there.

Once the baby is there and in his arms, he melts. He doesn’t want to let them go.

Seeing you holding the little baby is his favorite thing.

“Oh darling. You have done so wonderfully.” Looking down at the little child, his child, wrapped in blankets and sleeping peacefully in his arms. “You have given me everything I could ever hope for.”

Astarion

He has heightened senses due to being a vampire so he can smell something different about you long before you tell him, but he doesn’t know what it up.

He thinks you’re playing some sick joke when you first tell him you’re expecting.

He just can’t wrap his head around it at first, but you wake up to his hands on your belly and whispering softly.

He comes around to the idea of you both having a child slowly but once he does, he is making sure you have the best healers available.

He even asks Shadowheart and Halsin to check on you and make sure everything is going well.

He becomes obsessed with your belly as it gets bigger, wanting to constantly be touching you in some way.

When he feels the first kick, he is startled but you see the largest grin on his face.

“Oh, a little fighter on our hands it seems.”

When you go into labor, he is afraid but he sits behind you and lets you push against him.

He is whispering into your ear how wonderful you are doing and letting you squeeze his hand.

Once he hears the baby cry for the first time, he has an out of body experience.

He is looking over your shoulder at the little one as they are placed in your arms, with you cooing down at them.

“Lover… They look perfect.” Reaching around you and letting them grab hold of his finger with his tiny hand. “I swear, I will always be there for them.”

Gale

He stares at you for a moment with wide eyes when you tell him before breaking out in a smile and scooping you into his arms.

He will want to announce to all your companions as soon as possible. He wants to share your good news with everyone.

He starts planning everything; the nursery, what colors everything should be, what foods he is going to be cooking for you through the pregnancy, everything you can think of.

Not to mention Tara is your little shadow and you’re pretty sure that she is reporting everything back to Gale.

He checks up on you multiple times a day, asking if you need anything or if you are craving everything for him to cook.

When you are laying in bed with him, he will be reading next to you and absently rubbing your belly.

When your belly gets bigger, he will want to have his arms wrapped around you while sleep with Tara curled up next to you.

He wants to be there when you give birth, he will not hear anything against it.

When you do go into labor, he is right by your side and wiping your forehead with a wet towel.

He honestly gets in the way of the midwife with his constant questions, but they force him to sit next to you.

When the baby is finally born, he wants to be the first to hold them and cradle them in his arms.

“Oh dearest, look at them. Look at how perfect you have done.” His soft smile and a twinkle in his eyes as he looked down at the child, wanting nothing more in the world.

Halsin

Halsin knows before you do that you’re pregnant. He picks up on the nausea, the tiredness, and he can smell it on you.

He waits for you to tell him though, giving you the privacy even though he is bursting at the seams with excitement.

He is making sure you’re eating enough and getting enough rest.

You wouldn’t even need to list a single finger if you didn’t want to.

He makes sure not to be too far from you if you would ever need him.

He starts whittling little toys for the child, including a little bear for them.

When your belly gets larger and you start complaining of back pain, he will come up behind you and put his hands under your belly to help relieve the pressure with his chin resting on your shoulder.

From the moment you two lay down for the night he is constantly talking to your belly and rubbing it.

The first time he feels a kick he will grin and give the spot a soft kiss.

He makes sure to keep an eye on everything for anything that could go wrong but he is not against you having additional healers to check up on you.

When you go into labor, he wants to help the midwife with anything they need; water, towels, just about anything.

He also wants to be the one who cuts the cord and clean the baby right after they are born.

He holds them in his arms and marvels at how small they are compared to him before he hands them to you.

“My Heart, just look at them.” Halsin looking down at the child, slowly running his finger down their cheek as they sleep. “Just look at what we have made together.”

Bonus: Zevlor (because I love him and no one can stop me)

When you tell him the poor man’s heart stops for a second.

He is a stuttering mess, hands reaching for you trembling, but he pulls you into his arms and holds you close kissing you.

A million and one doubts that he will be a good father go through his head, but he doesn’t doubt for a second that you will be a good parent.

You have to reassure him and give him a lot of love.

He goes out of his way to make sure you’re taken care of during your pregnancy.

You mention you want a snack or sweet? He will come home with like 10 of them.

You will wake up to him rubbing your belly as it gets bigger.

He eyes will be full of love and wonder when he feels them kick.

When you go into labor, he just can’t stand seeing you in pain and gets kicked out by the midwife.

But the moment he hears the first cry he will burst back into the room.

When the midwife hands the baby to him for the first time, he treats them as if they are made of glass.

“Oh sweetling.” Zevlor could feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he held the newborn close to his chest watching them yawn. “You have given me everything.”

[paarthursass]

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[prettyboykatsuki]

— ❈ YOU'RE SO PRETTY, BABY.

▸ prompt ; companions and their responses to being called pretty boy / pretty girl.

▸ a/n ; bit of a generic post im sorry forreal. while i was originally just going to write this for astarion i had ideas for. all the other companions.

most of the characters have a reader w a specific class or background, all varied! also spoilers for gale, shadowheart, karlach, and lae'zel.

reader / tav is always gender neutral!

▸ wc ; about 4.5k, about 700+ words per companion.

ft. astarion, wyll, gale, shadowheart, karlach, lae'zel

no minthara or halsin bc i could not bring myself to write it. but maybe later if enough people ask lol.

❈ ASTARION ;

Astarion tries his very best to find your affection for him trite, even when he knows it doesn't feel that way. It's an instinct for him, one you'll simply have to make peace with you if you're really planning on tailing him to the end of the world.

Truth be told though, he likes your generally affectionate nature. He hasn't reached a point he can admit this so openly, but the comfortable and easy way you reach for him is nice. He likes how your hands seem to stretch for him, the way you cling to his spine when you sleep in his tent and the likes.

And while he is not stranger to hypocrisy, he thinks it'd be amiss to try and bar you from calling him any pet names when he calls you so many. He's got quite a few handy. Darling is a favorite, followed by dear, and sometimes my love when he can muster up the courage to mean it instead of saying it like he's trying to perform.

You like to call Astarion by his name though, most often. He isn't exactly sure why you're so fond of it, and truthfully he's done little to consider his own name. You say it wonderfully though, tasteful and loving and soft.

Sometimes you gasp it in offense or horror or shock, other times in pleasure. Sometimes you whimper it in your sleep, groping around until your hands fist in the material of his shirt and you drag him back to you.

In any case, he's used to hearing his name. So hearing you utter the words pretty boy to him, he can't help but be a little shocked.

You're a little tipsy. A hard, arduous journey of fighting githyanki soldiers has taken a terrible toll on your normal inhibitions. You're quite flushed while you're drunk, and all the same sitting in his lap like you've not a care in the world.

Astarion doesn't mind holding you. In fact, he's thinking of all the terribly teasing things he can say to you come morning. So far, you've done nothing but mumble. It's a sudden movement, your hands clasped around his face.

"Feeling forward are we darling?" He says, like second nature. It's so reactionary it's banal, though he does have some enthusiasm since the flirtation is directed at you. Instead of your usual giggling, you stare at him with your lips parted.

"I suppose I am pretty boy," You reply, a completely foreign confidence in your voice that stops him dead in his tracks. Underneath the thick layer of flirtation is sincerity so unmistakable it almost proves to be too much "Could I ask you to keep me company?"

Astarion is, eternally grateful about the fact you don't get much more than that out of you. He spends the entire night thinking about it. You're certainly not the first to call him pretty, and that particular phrasing has been thrown to him more than once.

Yet it rings a little differently. The way you said it so tenderly, your hands stroking the nape of his neck and cupping his face. Well, it's not nothing. He can't decide if he hates it or not until the next morning comes.

Your eyes flutter open as light pours through the open part of his tent. You reach over to him with a deep sigh, engaging in some quiet morning affection when you repeat yesterdays sentiment.

"Good morning, my very pretty boy," You say - and this time Astarion is sure whatever he is feeling he has not ever felt previously "Sorry for the antics last night."

"So your memory hasn't failed you. Good to know." Astarion says back. You laugh lightly. "Your charming little pet name worried me quite a bit."

"Nothing to worry about my love." You say, warm and nuzzling into his neck likely to cool yourself from over-heating "I really do find you very pretty."

He can't help the feeling that floods his sense. He likes it even though he feels a little clingy, but perhaps there's no need to admit that.

"Oh, really, darling? How sweet you are. Tell me again, then. Just for kicks this time."

❈ WYLL ;

it's a matter of getting used to it for Wyll.

For the first month of your adventuring together, pretty boy, had been a somewhat condescending substitute for his name. Among other ones, like daddy's boy and prince. None of the pet names held any real affection.

You liked getting under his skin, after all.

You didn't get on at first, not for a long while. You're a rogue, a ratty street urchin turned mercenary who'd spent your youth climbing through the soil and mud of the Lower City's underbelly. Your words verbatim, not his. At first, your resentment for him caught him off guard, especially because Wyll prefers to keep the peace and get along with everyone. But, he had a difficult time understanding you, even with his people skills

Eventually it clicked that your resentment was less towards him, and more towards what he represents. You're a Baldurian, but one abandoned by the city and it's people. What else could the Ravengards represent if not the future you never had a chance to look towards.

It was easier after that. And Wyll had promised to himself to observe you closer. In that, he found to like you a great deal.

He's fond of pet names in general, but more fond of you lately. At the beginning of your adventure, it was a little difficult to get accustomed to your... roughness. You lack delicacy, but you're not exactly silver tongued.

Yet, you're not as cruel as you make yourself out to be. Contrarily, while you've traveled together, Wyll bore witness to only gentleness. Nothing more. The words you spoke about only doing things for coin had been clearly disproved by your countless acts of charity. Especially gentle and kind to children, and especially unforgiving to the rich and unhelpful.

Once he got used to it, there was something kind of...sweet about it. To see you say one thing and do another had it's own novelty that Wyll grew fond of you.

It was the night of tiefling party that roused his feelings. That night, he'd watched you play with the tiefling children all night, teaching them tricks of the trade.

And you'd started falling for him, too, judging by the way your usual snark was nowhere to be found.

Especially vivid is the change in your tone when you call him the same way you did before.

"We'll take a short rest for you, pretty boy." Your voice murmurs, looking carefully over his wounds while place down your own weapons "Get your spells back. Organize our things in the mean time."

He gives you look, examining your own worry before his smile stretches into one of fondness. It doesn't bother him at all, not anymore. No, lately - it sounds rather fond, and each time Wyll hears it, it does something for ego.

"No need for the concern, though I am appreciative," He says, not bothering to mask the smug quality in his voice at your change. He delights in it a little, admittedly . "I'll be alright soon enough."

You don't seem to notice, too busy wiping your blade of fresh blood, metal shiny as moonlight. "And there's no need for your heroism, Blade of Frontiers. Have some discernment about time and place."

You look up at him with your brows furrowed, and Wyll can barely help himself. "Are you worried I'll lose what's left in my appearances? I'm just telling you there's no need to trouble yourself over it."

It takes you a while to register to his words, but when it finally does - your eyes blow wide. The look of embarrassment on your face is well worth it.

"I thought you hated when I called you that." You say coolly.

"It's not so bad," He says back tenderly, staring at you "At least not anymore."

You pout a little. Wyll fights some unspoken urge to kiss you. A little longer.

"I prefer when you're acting oblivious,"

"Sorry to disappoint."

He lets his head lay on the wall behind him - reaching a hand for yours instead, trying to rest up as promised. He sees you smiling from the corner of his eye and affirms it to himself. You squeeze, soft, but otherwise say nothing about it.

Yes, lately, nothing you say could get under his skin. Even when you so obviously try.

❈ GALE ;

Gale is always the poet, never the muse.

He thought highly of his relationship with Mystra, and in many ways still does. He loved her. This much is true. He can't say for any certainty if she had loved him just as much, or at all. He wasn't the first mortal, and would hardly be the last.

But he loved her, enough to write about her and wax poetic about all that he'd lost.

When Gale examines any of his past relationship, he realizes this is some kind of pattern. Gale is good at being loving, but he does not know for certain if any of them loved him back. Or if he was loved in the way he loves - if it was anything near close. Gale had thought, at one point, it was just matter of destiny. Gale is after all, a man who bleeds with all he has.

He can't blame anyone for loving him less than when he is categorically too much. He thought that way for a long time, destined himself to never find love again or beg for Mystra's forgiveness for some new found purpose.

When you came into his life, he hadn't been sure what would come of your relationship. Certainly a brain parasite would make camp a difficult place for romance, but the two of you managed against all odds. Among all the things that Gale finds astonishing about your relationship - it's your affection for him that catches him the most off-guard.

It's a little sad, he can admit. But it's true. When you speak to Gale, your voice is always soft. It's never demanding. Before, always, there had been some kind of expectation. Gale had to be a certain way, to pour himself into someone else for the sake of it being returned.He loved. Surely he loved.

But now, lately, you love him back. Overwhelmingly. The easiness of your love makes him feel a little... spoiled. Which is embarrassing, at the stage of life he's in. He finds the whole thing tips him over the edge. The heat creeping up his neck every time he remembers. Your hand brushing against the back of his neck, cupping his face so gently.

Gale, perhaps unsurprisingly, is fond of your various pet names. All of them sound good. Make him feel important and desired. You like to call him a bookworm, sometimes you call him baby (which he really likes much more than he is ever willing to admit), and other times you settle on saying my love.

Pretty boy is new. Pretty boy is different, and makes heat crawl up the back of Gale's neck like a smitten school boy.

It has a special effect on Gale.

In between classes, spoken with your hands cupping his face as he leans on his desk. The sunlight is pouring through the large paneled windows, casting a warmth on your expression. Gale is sat on his desk, making you eye-level.

"I'm glad you've come to see me," Gale says to you first, breaking a period of comfortable silence. You're a busy person, given all the heroics. Gale finds it troublesome, despite the fact you've moved with him to Waterdeep. Your reputation precedes you "It's been ages,"

"Of course I'd come to see you, pretty boy," You hum, thumb brushing under his cheek - carefully drawing a line "You're very healing to look at."

The effect is rather immediate. As soon as the words leave your lips, spoken to him so lovingly - he unlocks a part of himself he always seems to forget about. Forgets himself in a fundamental way, the flurry of heat and euphoric sensation of adoration washing over him like water.

He gives you a look, and you laugh - pressing your thumb to his lower lip as you lean in for a kiss. "Stop pouting, will you?"

"I'm doing nothing of the sort," He insists, kissing you despite him. You laugh into, warm and bubbly. For a minute, he remembers all he might've lost had he done what Mystra told him.

He's glad he's alive. To feel you.

"You very much are," You reply back, once you've managed to pull away from each other "Don't be so surprised. You've always been very pretty to me."

He blushes again, deeper, and closes his eyes.

❈ SHADOWHEART ;

You don't often communicate your feelings to Shadowheart through words.

You're something of a stoic. Of the few people in Shadowheart's past who remain by her side, many of them communicate about how surprised they are about your partnership. Shadowheart is known to be a little snarky, witty. She used to be very prickly, at the start of your adventure together - so everyone questions how you were able to win her heart.

Truthfully, Shadowheart didn't know what to make of your personality at first. There's a silence to you. Maybe she should expect this of paladin so loyal. A Paladin of Torm, the unswerving enemy of injustice and corruption. You've always been a devout person, putting action and justice over everything. She hated it at first, a natural response for a Sharran, she figures.

Once she'd left it all behind, she could no longer use it as an excuse.

Truth be told, Shadowheart had always liked that aspect of you. Your devotion spoke to something greater than your oath or even your god. You had simply believed in the world, and inadvertently in her. You saved her from herself, her parents from her fate, and then some.

Your devotion to her as a lover isn't something so different. She often thinks you would swear yourself to her if you could. For Shadowheart, your affection is akin to worship. Every morning, the animals are tended and the flower bed is damp. You wake her mother up without a start, remind her of where she is without making her feel ashamed. You're good to her father, talk to him of worldly politics at the dinner table.

She has no complaints to make about you. Your love for her is tangible, something she can reach out and touch with her fingers.

She's unused to hearing your affections, though. Unused to hearing the words.

You lay together in the darkness. You're alone tonight, the entire cabin empty. Her mother and father have gone together on an outing together, after you accompanied them into the city. You've finally returned, put the horses up in the stable, and have to come to her side.

Shadowheart likes to lay in your arms. She lets herself curl into your weight, inhales the scent of your skin - earthy and rich as you let your arm fold around her waist. She lays ontop of you today, her whole body on yours like a blanket.

She looks up at you, her her tied loosely. She can practically feel how glowy her own expression is as she examines you - sees her reflection in your irises.

You let your hand lay over her back, reaching up underneath her nightwear to lay touch her skin. She gives you a look - her smile small, sincere. Your own expression is tired from travel, but fond. You insisted on taking her parents instead of letting them go alone.

She loves you more than she cares to admit.

"You're staring." She comments blithely "See something you like?"

Normally you'd flush a little at this, silent as you kiss her forehead or cheek. This time though, you use your fingers to brush the stray hairs from her face and nod.

"Yes, pretty girl," You hum, nonchalantly. Sagely. "I really do,"

She's so caught off guard, she can't help but gape. She lifts herself slightly to stare at you in shock.

"I've never heard you talk like that. Not once while we've been together. I mean.. you've called me beautiful but," Shadowheart stumbles, a fluttery feeling in her stomach she'd rather ignore "But it's never like that,"

"I think it more often that I say it,"

"And you always think to call me that?"

"Like I said, often," You look over he carefully, before your lips pull into an easy smile "You're pretty to the point I want to tell you all the time,"

Shadowheart is scarcely embarrassed by anything. She's a practiced woman at this point in her life. It's almost juvenile the way the words effect her. It's you saying it that makes all the difference. The way you've said it that makes her squirm. She lets out a little puff of air, silent as you laugh.

"Pretty girl," You repeat, warm and gentle and laced with exhaustion "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

Shadowheart tucks her face into your neck, voice as soft a murmur as the sound of her own heart rings in her ears.

"Don't make a habit of talking like that," She huffs "I already know, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to hear."

You smile brightly. "I'm glad,"

❈ KARLACH ;

Karlach adores you, utterly and completely.

She's a little caught off-guard by it. Just when she'd convinced herself she couldn't love you more, you surprise her all over again. She'd probably harbored some sort of affection for you from the start of your adventure together, when you'd gone to bat for her and make sure Wyll didn't take her head as a trophy.

Since then, though - on your journey together, she'd taken careful notice of you. And gods, she likes you. You're very different she must admit. Where Karlach is strong and fiery, you're cool and calculated. She figured that's just what magic users are like, but Gale is pretty keen on correcting this assumption. You're a sorcerer, specifically, means the whole magic thing is in your composition and not your study.

Which explained why your head isn't the books like their local wizard. She does find you to be rather charming. You're good at talking your way in and out of almost everything, and you can outwit even the cleverest people on camp. You'd think it'd make you... annoying. Or cruel. And sure, you're a little calculating - but mostly, you're sweet.

Karlach's really never met anyone like you before. Her companionship is a little limited because before the Blood Wars, she was a rag-tag kid in the street of the city. But you grew up in a noble house, learned to charm and finesse your way through everything. You know how to read situations before they've even happened.

And you always explain them to her afterwards.

You make Karlach nervous, strangely. Which is wild! When it comes to socializing, she can get along with almost anyone. You though, you always see right through her. You know when she's using her own personality as a shield, and you always know just when to intervene. Or when to say nothing, and just let her sit with you.

The day she blew up at you, after defeating Gortash - you'd handled it better than she could've hoped. You were comforting, and kind, and let her feel it out without making her feel bad. With you, she felt hopeful despite knowing that the end was probably going to come for her eventually.

With you, she thinks she could endure even the end of the world.

You're in the city now, no longer sleeping in the woods. When everyone else has gone to bed, Karlach finds you in the study, a room attached to the main living quarters.

She knocks before entering. Your voice is soft as you tell her to come in. Dressed in your comfy night clothes, your hair damp from washing up. You're bent over the desk with a furrow in your brow that Karlach finds sweet.

"Hey, baby," She asks, her heart thumping soft "Hope I'm not disturbin' your research."

"Of course not," You reply back, encouraging her towards you "I'm actually due a break."

Wordlessly, you sit up from your chair, pointing for Karlach to sit. She follows through, a little confused as to what you're doing before you plop yourself back into her lap. She throws her head back in laughter.

"Don't know what I was expecting there," She giggles, arm curling around your waist "All cozy?"

"Mm," You melt yourself into her embrace, turning to look at her. Your eyes are soft, free hand cupping her face "I'm cozy. What's keeping you up, pretty girl?"

The words catch her off guard completely, her engine flaring from the heat.

"Shit, what's with that?" She glances down at you, smiling like the cheeky fucker you are "I can't get any redder, you know? It's making my engine burn."

"You like it, no?" Your voice is smooth, smug in a way that gets her hot "My pretty girl,"

Karlach stares at you as you say it. Traces the curve of your lips, the slight arch of your brow. Asses the weight and warmth of you as you lay your legs over her lap and feels her body start to react. She didn't think it was possible to feel so complete by someone, even among the impending doom at the end of the world.

With you it fades away to nothing. Permission to want freely, she had no idea she had wanted that so bad. She had no idea she could want more when you'd already given her so much.

It's nice to be greedy. A little greed is fine, after everything.

"If you keep talking to me like that, we're going to do a lot more than just sitting, you know?" She tells you seriously.

You smile and laugh but don't deny her "Only if you say please,"

❈ LAE'ZEL ;

The Githyanki do not fall in love.

It's a fact of the culture, a mark of their honor. Love is for the soft, tender fleshed species of the material planes. It does not suit warriors, not the ruthless githyanki who spend their entire lives training the sword and learning magic. Love had always been a flimsy concept to Lae'zel. To the point she'd never thought about it or cared too. For the gith, there is only pleasure and carnal desire. The foolishness of longing can only be harbored in the lesser existence of the outer-world. The world outside of her creche.

For a long time, this was true for Lae'zel. She had never intended her time in the material plane to weaken her in the ways in which it did. Or that the experience of a ghaik parasite trapped behind her eyes would will her into cooperation with lesser beings. In many ways egregious, unfathomable. In trying to rid herself of one parasite, she'd found herself another one - more intolerable and more consuming than the first.

You. What a foreign and remarkable bond. From the beginning she had told you the truth, that the gith do not love and she would not be able to love you. Though she could admit passion, admit admiration for your courage, admit possession - she could not admit love. She knew nothing of it.

Over the course of your journey, you'd managed to prove her wrong. Slowly stripped bare of the identity she'd made her life around, you stripped Lae'zel down to her soul. Her most honored solider, and most formidable ally. When the time came, you'd told her to do what she must, to liberate her people. That you'd be there when she returned.

That you'd wait for her.

Months apart with few visits in between meant that each time Lae'zel sees you must make every minute count. Enjoying your body and indulging in carnal pleasures is only so much of that. What Lae'zel looks forward too most, she must admit, is the gentleness of your touch whenever she comes back to Fae'run.

Soft warm whispers among the indulgent plush of bed sheets and candles. A room that smells like lavender and oak, prayer books and scripture littered on the desk. A cleric of Bahamut, and a soul strong as steel.

But this, her head resting in your lap as you stroke her hair so carefully, is what she's missed most of all. No doubt she's going soft.

"Chk. You are smitten by the text in front of you as if you have forgotten of my return,"

You look down at Lae-zel with a laugh, carefully placing said book down on the bedside table. The voice you speak with her is different from her own. Tender fleshed even in your speech, you let her curl herself into you.

A vulnerable position, open to whatever may come.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl," You hum. The words practically startle her "I don't mean to neglect you. It was an interesting passage."

"Pretty...It is true among the githyanki, I am among the finest of their ranks," She replies, turning herself towards you - getting comfortable "Yet still, something stirs."

"Are you embarrassed?" You reply, delighted as her frown deepens. Before she has a chance to argue with you, you lean down to press your lips against hers briefly "How sweet of you."

"I do not get embarrassed," She insists, scowling as you begin to giggle at her "It was merely unexpected."

"You're beautiful to me, Lae'zel." You hum, stroking her cheek gently as she continues to lay herself across. Your eyes are tender and lidded. That look of obsession she recalled from the months prior returned in full, and no longer hidden. Unlike your other mortal companions, or the pale elf - there is nothing hidden in your words. No agenda "More beautiful than anyone else. At least to me. Getting to look at you so closely is a gift."

She softens, her hand gripping yours resting on her chest

"When it is over," She says seriously, a solemness to her voice "I will return to you. This I swear. Without you, the liberation of my people would be no less then a dream,"

You return her smile in kind.

"My pretty, wonderful girl," You hum. She loves you. She thinks she understands it now "I know you'll return to me, nailo. You always keep your promises."

"Yes," She says, an unfamiliar emotion overwhelming her "I will not forsake all we have promised."

The affection in your voice shakes Lae'zel to her core. Initial abrasion fades only into warmth. It's not so bad to hear, even if it is tender fleshed.

▸ a/n ; the word reader uses for lae'zel is elvish for swift winds!! reader is meant to be sort of a book worm so you do not need to picture them as a elf and more of a linguist.

this is the most substantial thing i've written in the last few weeks so commentary is very appreciated. i'd be willing to do a minthara and halsin addition to this eventually if anyone is interested!!

anyways, baldurs gate companions i love u. reblogs so appreciated !

[avocado-writing]

For the bg3 requests how about the companions realizing they love tav in the middle of a battle(love your work!!!)

partner piece to this!

Astarion

realises when he sees you cut down someone in battle to save him.

you don’t think twice about beheading the cultist, or shooting them full of a magic missile, or stabbing them in the guts from the shadows - whatever you do is equally wonderful.

his eyes go wide as he watches you make the killing blow. warm blood spatters on his face and, when you shout to ask if he’s alright, his heart does a funny little dance in his chest.

he’s alright. he’s the most alright that he’s ever been, actually

kisses you suddenly, the taste of the kill dancing between your lips, and stares at you very sincerely.

“I love you.” then back to the battle before you can press it any further.

Gale

if you’re a spell caster, he falls for you because of your capability using magic. you have a knack for it he finds delightful.

the twirl of your hands, soft speaking as you recite verbal components, all of it - it’s all perfect.

he stares at you, distracted for a moment, and then gets a club in the side of the head and is catapulted back to battle.

if you’re not a mage then it’s when you do something he taught you, silencing an enemy wizard by cutting them off when you realise a somatic component. you shoot him a thumbs up and he feels his whole face go bright red.

you listen to him. you care about him. and he loves you.

Wyll

you’re fighting back-to-back, fending off enemies as they charge towards you, yelling out directions for the other one to be watching.

“wyll! big guy on your left!”

he turns and stabs, running through an orc, and hears you laugh from the exhilaration of battle.

he realises then how much he loves you, how he’d never have any other life than this heart-pounding, blood-pumping excitement with you; and he’d do anything to keep you safe.

there’s no time for him to confess right now… but he does reach behind himself to give your free hand a little squeeze with his. just so you know. just so he can come back to it and confess later.

Karlach

raging, so it’s less her thinking through it and more a series of realisations which come to her all at once.

you: fighting. you: protecting. you: protecting her. you: capable. you: loveable.

oh, it all slips into place. she can’t do anything about it right now because her axe is buried in the face of an ogre, but after the battle when she’s calmed down she seeks you out.

is a bit awkward about it, finds reasons to be near you, but you manage to work out what it is she is desperate to say.

give her a kiss, and she squeals with excitement. she thinks you’re just perfect!

Lae’zel

ahh, lae’zel. would she fall for you at any other time?

has always watched your form in battle but there’s something about today, this fight. she can’t keep her eyes off of you.

you are flawless. perfect. dispatching enemies with ease.

she realises she feels not just fondness for you, but love. something she did not believe that she’d ever experience.

she is a little distracted and gets hit, but that just makes her focus back on the battle. you check in with her afterwards and she brushes you off, stomping away to go and mull her feelings over.

is… scared to confess to you. may do it one day. not today.

Shadowheart

runs over to heal you during a battle, your wounds are great, but you shake her off:

”you’re in far worse condition than me! heal yourself first!”

she realises how hurt she is for the first time. she sort of learned to deal with the pain as she was raised sharran, but… you’re the one who’s taken notice of her. nobody has ever done that.

suddenly she is overwhelmed with feelings for you. she’d been soft for you before, but now she is overwhelmed with emotion.

she does heal herself, and then you - luxuriating in the feel of your skin under her hands.

Halsin

he’s already fond of you, but the thing that really gets him is during one particular battle.

you’re fighting and he can see you’re doing your best to protect something behind you from your assailants. during a moment when an enemy is down he sees what’s behind you: a baby boar, terrified.

not the most pleasant creature, covered in mud and squealing, but you still are attempting to shield it from the battle, and when the fight is over he sees you use magic to talk to it and calm it down, check it over for wounds.

he realises how smitten he is with you in that moment. how much you care. you are perfect, and he wants to spend his life with you.

Minthara

probably falls for you during an act of violence, a particularly bloody kill.

you show no mercy to your opponent, opening them from throat to navel, eyes bright as you see them bleed out.

you are an angel of death, vicious and proud. you smile at your kill and minthara finds herself smiling too.

charming. you are charming, and that’s all there is too it. she smiles through the rest of the battle at the thought of you.

[dumbofass-homo]

I've been thinking about how Halsin is always the caretaker.

He takes care of nature, but that's obvious. He takes care of a bunch of orphaned kids in the endgame. He took care of the grove, healed people, took in refugees. He cares about Tav (even if he is not Tav's partner) and the rest of the weirdos in the party. He cares.

It's so easy to forget that he is also a person that needs caring for. He is large and always has his emotions under control, so people tend to brush off his needs, sometimes subconsciously. And he is used to it, living for as long as he has.

It even shows in the fanart and fanfics - he is almost always the one to offer support and encouragement, emotional or otherwise. In the smutty works, he is almost exclusively the top, caring for his partners'pleasure.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this or what I'm trying to say, but I think he would just melt if his partners and/or companions would slowly start taking things off his shoulders.

The children want bedtime stories? Astarion will do you one better. He will act out the heroic victory over a certain vampire with so much flare he will be the talk of the settlement for days to come. He most certainly didn't do that to get the kids off Halsin's bear back and most definitely doesn't enjoy his new fans.

Lae'zel isn't affectionate, no, not at all. It's just that when she sees how dull his blades are, it infuriates her. Definitely. So she takes them, along with his armor and polishes everything to perfection, just like she would her own. The githyanki cannot allow their metal to be in less than perfect condition, you see.

New refugees came to the settlement and Tav gets them settled, shows them the place they've built and makes sure they know they're safe. The newcomers are a little baffled that one of the saviors of Baldur's gate is so normal, and it gives them reassurance. Tav wants to make sure not everyone needs to look to Halsin for the smallest things.

In the midst of the shadow curse, despite their animosity, Shadowheart infuses several items around camp with light. She knows he must miss the sun.

In Rivington, Gale scouts for ingredients for a certain cake. He can't find what he's looking for, the settlement is very short on sweets. But with his little eye (and a bit of magic) he finds a honey bee hive. A few blisters and agry bees later - a small honeycake is done, served with tea. Gale didn't want to make assumptions but Tav had told him their favorite bear loves honey.

On a particularly dreadful night, Wyll invites Alfira to play them a few tunes. He goes from person to person and gets them to their feet to do a little dance. Halsin is sure he has two left feet so he is reluctant to try - but everyone cheers and encourages him so he does, peer pressure be damned. He steps on Wyll's feet and has no idea how to move his body in sync, but Wyll isn't phased by it. He moves and twirls him around and Halsin is sure that looks absolutely ridiculous - but he is having fun, for the first time in a long time.

[justporo]

Headcanons for the companions reuiniting after a few months

Ok, but imagine Astarion and Tav invite their friends over for a reunion during winter time!

Obviously it's Tav's idea and Astarion isn't into it at first but he thinks it's kinda cute how into it Tav is

Gale is enlisted as sous-chef, he doesn't have a choice

The wizard also spices up things decor wise with some magic, Shadowheart also helps make look everything incredible

Tav and Gale make all the dishes, heaps of them, loads - no one will go home without having gained at least three pounds of weight; Astarion picks out wine and drinks

And when everyone arrives it's just a whoooole big cheerful mess: hugs, smooches, screaming, excited hopping up and down (and obligatory snarls and hisses from some because it's just a lot of love going around)

The house is full of laughter and talk the whole night

Karlach hangs out under mistletoe for a suspicious amount of time to give little pecks to everyone excitedly

Halsin has brought individually whittled ducks for everyone - Lae'zel claims she hates hers but then she's seen carefully turning it around in her hands the whole night

Jaheira, Wyll and Astarion get into a fierce discussion of Baldurian politics over several bottles of wine - by the end they're in a screaming match (affectionately) and Jaheira ends it by dragging on pointy ears and horns using her mom voice on Wyll and Astarion

Shadowheart tells the others how she's overcome her former beliefs and how she made a new life for herself causing the whole party to fall silent for a moment, even some tears might be shed; "Have you all gotten soft in the last months? Ugh!" Shadowheart says and with that the spell is broken, although she still gets a lot of hugs and told how proud everyone is (she claims she hates it, but everyone sees the light blush and the telltale shining wet eyes)

Gale brought Tara and her and Scratch hang out in front of the fireplace, maybe even Boo

At one point Jaheira and Halsin join them in cat wildshape - then Boo has to watch himself while being playfully chased around by the cats and the tressym - Minsc meanwhile completely loses it while he chomps away on more food

Lae'zel shows off her knife skills by artfully seperating whatever meat dish is set in front of her from the bones

Later Halsin and everyone else who wants to join sneak out the backdoor to the small garden for a little smoking session - even Wyll joins and they all come back with some giddy chuckles

Maybe all of them play like charades at the end: Astarion is amazingly good at it (because let's face it he's so dramatic usually he's good at portraying things) - you and him are just a dreamteam, Karlach is just super excited, Lae'zel doesn't get it at first but then is overly competitive, Minsc doesn't fully understand what's going on but he's just vibing, Wyll overcomplicates everything while Shadowheart keeps rolling her eyes and sighing in annoyance, Halsin and Jaheira just keep watching while chatting and having more drinks, Gale screams the loudest with suggestions that are oddly specific and not even close to what's the solution

The little townhouse in Baldur's Gate is filled with love, light and laughter through the whole night - promises to repeat this have already been made

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @azukiel @hereliesblackdragon

[bg-brainrot]

Would You Still Love Me? (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: When you ask the question, 'would you still love me if I were a worm?' Astarion's response surprises you in more ways than one.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, silly goofy mood, act 3 unascended Astarion

Word count: ~1.7k

--

You’re chatting with Astarion over dinner at the Elfsong when a question strikes you. It’s an odd one, and you’re not sure if you should ask it. Your curiosity builds as you consider Astarion’s possible answers though and, by the next lull in conversation, you can’t help yourself.

“Astarion?” you ask, spearing a potato on your plate.

The vampire swirls his wine glass, watching the red liquid fall into place before answering, “Yes, dear?” 

“Would you still love me if I were a worm?” The question spills out of you, sounding even sillier than it did in your head.

Your lover blinks at you, as if he couldn’t possibly have heard that properly. But when your expression doesn’t change, your eye contact doesn’t drop, no admission of jest is to be seen, he finally says, “Darling, what kind of ludicrous question is that?”

“Well, would you?” you counter, pointing at him with your fork before popping the potato in your mouth.

His face grows pensive as he thinks. It’s a few seconds later before he asks a follow up question, “What type of worm?”

You finish chewing as you think of the worms you know. Not many admittedly– life in the city meant that free patches of earth are few and far between. So you answer the only worm that truly comes to mind, “The earthworm kind.”

“And I would know that it’s you?” he asks, leaning forward now. It seems like he’s invested in the question now, despite his initial reaction.

You nod, as if that’s a given. “Yes, you saw me transform.”

“Hells, I was hoping I could pretend not to know,” he says with a smirk. 

“Wicked man,” you retort, shooting him a responding smile.

Astarion’s face looks thoughtful again as he considers the developing situation. “Could I turn you back?”

Now you shake your head vehemently. What use was the exercise if magic would fix you? “No, nothing could turn me back. I’m simply a worm from now on.”

“Hmm, and are you certain that you would love me?” He raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, as if he’s cornered you in your own mischievous little game.

“Of course,” you answer immediately. “I don’t think my little worm brain would be able to think of much else.”

“How sweet… I think,” he says, cocking his head. You suppose it is, though you had meant it as fact. “Well then, one final question, if you would?”

You nod, gesturing for him to continue with your fork. “Go ahead, I’m an open book. Or worm, in this case.”

“How long do worms live?”

You blink, having not expected such a question from him– and truthfully also due to not knowing the answer. “I don’t know. Maybe Halsin would?”

Astarion locates the druid, sitting a few tables away talking to Wyll and Karlach. He raises his voice to be overheard in the din of the tavern. “Halsin, be a dear, how long do earthworms live?”

“A fantastic question, Astarion!” The druid’s voice carries easily with excitement. “It truly depends on the conditions of the worm, but anywhere from a few years up to eight years.”

You balk at that fact. A worm can live how long?

“I’m happy to tell you all about ideal soil conditions–”

Astarion cuts the man off with a loud, “Thank you!” Then he turns back to you. “Well, there you have it.”

“Have what?” you ask in response, confused at the turn in conversation.

“You would live at most eight years. I’m immortal, my love. I think I can manage less than a decade of loving a worm,” he says, rolling his eyes at you.

You’re not sure how to take the casual way that he speaks of your impending wormy death, but you find it oddly comforting to know that he would in fact still love you. You honestly hadn't expected that. “So you’d keep me around? Made sure I stayed healthy and safe?”

He nods, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Naturally.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea of him keeping you as a pet worm. It seems almost unbelievable. “You wouldn’t throw me into the nearest patch of dirt? Or worse yet, let a bird take me?”

“Gods below, dear,” Astarion responds, aghast, putting a hand over his heart as if he’s been truly, deeply offended. “I would never.” Then he gets a far off look in his eyes and adds, “Well, maybe never. I suppose it depends on if I needed you as bait. But I’m certain I would be able to rescue you after the fact.”

“I would allow it,” you say, with a short nod. “If you’re using me as bait, it’s likely for good reason.”

"And after you pass? I would miss you terribly of course," he says solemnly, with his most maudlin, tragic expression.

"You'd better. And I expect the best soil for my burial," you say, pointing your fork at him threateningly.

“Of course, darling,” he says, only the hint of his smile visible from behind his wine glass. He takes a sip and looks at you again. “Now, why would you ask such a thing?”

You shrug, entirely convinced it was just a passing thought. But, as you poke and prod at your food, you find yourself answering, “I don’t know. What if, before this all ends, something happens to me. I already come with my own scars and problems, gods know how much worse it can get.”

Astarion stares at you over his wine glass, processing what you've just said before responding, "My love, believe it or not, I'm a vampire. I have 'scars and problems' of my own. If you think that anything could happen to you that I wouldn't be able to handle, you'd be sorely mistaken."

You hadn't expected him to say such words so sincerely, and you find yourself a bit taken aback. You love each other, you'd said as much on the night Astarion had been freed from Cazador, but it still feels a bit intimidating to know how deep that love could run. Apparently earthworm deep.

The idea that this man, who would rather bathe in blood than touch an inch of dirt, would continue to love you? Well, despite the inane premise, you find the warmth in your heart to feel very real.

"What about you, darling?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. "If I were to become a worm, what would you do?"

You answer quickly, "Easy. I would still love you, probably keep you on my person, and offer you blood or other sustenance when you need it."

Astarion looks at you aghast. "Sweet hells, do not put me in your pocket."

"And why not? I would be extremely careful, and then I would never lose you," you respond, explaining yourself logically. "Besides, even as a worm, who knows what kind of trouble you'd get yourself into."

"I should be saying that to you," he says, placing his wine glass on the table, serious now. "I can't believe you would put me in danger like that. I fully expect you to place me somewhere nice, like the lawn of some pampered Upper City noble."

You think about his proposition for a second before shaking your head. "But then I couldn't take care of you. What if you get stepped on?"

Astarion considers your counterargument with narrowed eyes. “Ugh, fine. I shall stay in your pocket. But I expect you to clean it regularly. And I demand that you get a new lining for it. Silk, preferably.”

“Easy enough to do,” you say, nodding along. “You would be most comfortable worm this side of the Chionthar.”

At that, the man looks pleased, picks his wine glass back up, and reclines back in his seat. “Good. And, for what it’s worth, I'm sure you would make a very cute worm.”

You’re not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or an insult, but you suspect it’s the former. “Thank you,” you say, smiling at your lover. “You would make a dashing worm yourself.”

“Are you both expecting to turn into worms any time soon?” you hear from behind you. You turn around to see Halsin standing tall over you. His tone is friendly, warm as he continues, “I would be happy to take care of either of you.”

You can’t help the blush of embarrassment that comes over your face. You’re also not sure how to take the words. Is he asking to adopt you both, as worms? Gods, how did you end up here… So you look back to Astarion who is now shooting you a look that says, Now look what you’ve done.

“Err, no Halsin. It was just an odd little conversation we were having. Sorry to cause you any confusion.”

“No need to apologize, my friend,” he replies. “Though if you ever do need help, you know where to find me.” He gives you both an affectionate smile before heading off. 

While it’s nice to know that others would care enough to take care of you as a worm, you’d meant the question to be solely for Astarion. You’re left burying your face in your hands to hide your shame.

“So, darling… what did we learn?”

“To never ask Halsin about earthworms,” you mumble through your fingers.

Astarion gives you a ‘tsk’ before responding. “No, my dear. If either of us turns into a worm, we must hide that fact from Halsin." He scrunches his nose in distaste before continuing, "I refuse to live in whatever healthy soil he’s found for us.”

You snort at Astarion’s conclusion, but still find yourself agreeing. “Fair enough. Better yet, let’s try to keep ourselves at the very least bipedal.” The two of you share a laugh, but in the back of your mind you’re already thinking of your next question. I wonder if he would still love me if I were a mimic? I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

[thecagedbard]

Oh Look, another Tav story! This is currently posted over on AO3 in its entirety but I thought I’d post it to tumblr as well. If you’d like to sneak a peak at some of the chapter names, if you don’t want to read the whole thing yet, have a listen to the title playlist: here.  There is also just the ‘Here’s what I was listening to while writing' playlist, and my Faetrala Uncaged playlist which serves as inspiration for Vesper’s siblings.  A lot of the songs tend to overlap but who knows, you might find one you enjoy. 

Rating: Mature

Pairing(s): Astarion/Tav (Vesper), Astarion/Halsin, Astarion/Halsin/Tav(Vesper); Mentions of Karlach/Shadowheart/Wyll; Mentions of Gale/AFAB OC

Warnings:  Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Canon Divergence, Child Death

Word count: 8,897/300,000+

Summary: Vesper needed someone to protect her from an abusive husband should he appear after she was abducted by mind flayers. Astarion needed someone to fall for him so he had protection from Cazador. He's got two hundred years of manipulation and she has the soft heart of a lamb being led to slaughter. While subconsciously healing each other they both realize they also need to heal the druid of all damned people.

Chapter Nine

“You know, I have to say,” Gale said as he perched on the boat next to Vesper, “that was quite the farewell you got from Astarion this morning.” He kept his voice low so the duergar who had boarded their vessel didn’t overhear. “I hadn’t realized the two of you were so close,” Vesper turned and looked at the wizard, thankful that the illusory image of her sister kept him from seeing her flushed cheeks, though it didn’t do much to hide her rounded eyes as she looked away quickly.

The corners of her mouth were upturned, “You may be the only if even Halsin caught on.” Gale lifted his hand to his chest, “You wound me. I knew you were close but not so close to have such a passionate goodbye in front of everyone. Though, perhaps, I am just a little more conservative in my own acts of affection.” The bard’s head tilted and she leaned close to the wizard, her voice low as she teased him about his own relationship with Mystra, “Conservative or just astrally adventurous.” Gales's mouth formed an ‘O’ shape as he chuckled, “Fair enough. I’m done teasing I suppose…truly I just wanted to keep your mind clear. After our breakfast intervention and knowing what we’re coming up to…I must admit I’m worried. About you, I mean.” 

Sparing him a glance as she turned to look behind them, Vesper nodded, “Thank you. I’ll be okay I think…as long as they don’t turn their rods on me at least.”

That morning, Vesper had awoken to several terse voices not far from the tent. When she emerged, her hand rubbing her tired eyes, she saw everyone around the fire. “None of you thought to tell her that you saw into her dreams?” Astarion had said and Karlach glanced behind her as she rounded the corner. “It’s not that, Astarion,” the tiefling said, keeping her eyes on the drow, “We didn’t know how to bring it up. That’s part of the reason I want Vesper to wear that ring of mind shielding…not because I don’t want to share your dreams,” she began to address the bard in the back who was trying to disappear back into the tent, “but because I don’t want you to share something you’re not comfortable sharing. That’s all!” 

Astarion turned and looked at the drow before crooking his fingers, “None of you thought how she’d feel learning about it later, did you?” He turned and looked at Shadowheart, “For someone so secretive about her own self you don’t seem to mind sharing others' histories…even things they haven’t told people themselves.” When Vesper got close enough he looked at her again, “We all have a past. Karlach was sold to Zariel. I was tricked into my slavery to Cazador. Wyll is Mizora’s little bitch…none of us want to talk about the horrible things that happened to us. No one has poked at Wyll about what he experienced as he was dragged through the hells.”

The warlock opened his mouth before closing it. The bard was unsure if he was going to share or defend himself.

“All I’m saying is that perhaps you could all have a little heart and not tell everyone the awful things that have happened to our bard,” Astarion tilted his head as he looked at Shadowheart. The cleric was watching Vesper though, she adjusted her jaw before speaking, “I’m sorry, Vesper. Astarion’s right…I had no right to share what I did with Halsin or Gale and Wyll.” Vesper nodded and Astarion huffed, “That’s it? Just going to forgive them that easily?”

The bard turned to look at him, “What can I say?” she shrugged, “First apologies in ten years may sway me more than anger…” The high elf cleared his throat and pursed his lips. Karlach’s face fell, “I’d give you the biggest hug if I could Vesper…” she turned to look at them around the fire and showed a tense smile.

There was a tense silence as they all looked around before Lae’zel spoke up, “Who is this Mariwen…why did that man say it was your fault?” The other’s heads whipped around to the githyanki, “Just because the rest of you prattle on and gossip does not mean I too did not experience the dream.” Slowly the attention of those around the campfire turned back to the bard and she took a shaky breath, warmth enveloped the middle of her back. Looking up Halsin stood on one side of her, his head bowing in a nod; with another breath, Vesper launched into her story about her children again. 

Unlike the night before where she kept glancing at the druid, this time she kept her eyes on the fire as it danced within the pit.

“Someone hug her, I can’t…” pleaded Karlach as Vesper finished. Wyll was quick to acquiesce to Karlach’s request, his arms encircling the bard’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry for your losses,” he whispered to her before stepping back. The redhead lifted her eyes to meet him, she knew her body had gone stiff the moment he embraced her, “Thank you.”  

She listened to them as they talked more agreeing that from now on if there was a dream shared through the tadpole to talk to the person they believe it came from. Karlach approached her as the others began cooking and held out the ring she’d received for telling Omeluum the story of how they’d gotten to the underdark, “Seriously. Keep this. If it’ll work to keep your thoughts your own, you deserve it.” Vesper tilted her head up and gave the tiefling a genuine smile before nodding, “And if we have to go to Baldur’s Gate, point that prick out to me the moment you see him. I’d like to have some words…between his arse and my foot.” 

Preparations to leave had been started, Gale had been the one to suggest she disguise herself before leaving camp. Astarion jerked his head up and moved rather swiftly to her side, “Before you do,” was all the warning she had before he grabbed her hip with one hand and pulled her close. Vesper had practically shrieked when she was forcibly moved, and frozen for just a moment before melting into Astarion’s kiss. Thankfully she couldn’t hear the low whistle Karlach let out as her hands fisted in his cotton tunic, but the tangy metallic taste against her tongue after she opened her mouth to the rogue’s prodding made her push at him just the tiniest bit. He leaned back, his tongue wetting his own lips, “I was going to wait but I’d rather see this than a false image of that sister of yours.” The bard was dazed as she stepped away from him and nodded, “Right. That….that makes sense.” 

Thinking back on it now, on this rickety little boat, her lip began to tingle as she pressed them together. Gale pointed just past her, “My spell isn’t nearly as powerful as your eyesight, but there’s something just ahead.” Vesper pulled back from her musings to look in the direction he pointed, he was right. Large statues loomed ahead, she stood up and braced herself as they neared.

Thankfully, Vesper’s lack of knowledge of how Lloth's sworn drow behaved didn’t cause any issues. She just pulled on all the mannerisms her sister embodied over nineteen years of knowing her. At the very least these underdwarves couldn’t tell the difference. 

“Something wrong?” questioned Shadowheart as the spiders ran off to find Lloth’s faithful. “Oh, I’m just beginning to wonder if my sister was perhaps darker than I thought…” replied the bard as she continued to look around, “Have you found anywhere worth trying to summon the others?” Gale nodded, “There’s a locked door in this direction, I had to agree to throw some gnomes into the dark waters but it should be safe for you to…” he cleared his throat, “unlock.”

Lae’zel searched the pockets of the dead gnomes while Shadowheart and Gale kept an eye on the duergar; Vesper kneeled at the door her tongue poking between her teeth as she worked on the lock. “Any luck yet,” asked Shadowheart. “This is different from the locks he had me practicing on last night…it’ll just take a minute…Oh, I got one,” the bard bounced before focusing again.

“It’s almost adorable how excited you are about your criminal education,” Gale said with his head turned, so the bard could hear him. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but I didn’t exactly take you as a sneaky thief type,” he waved a dismissive hand. Shadowheart laughed softly, “Not everyone is as they appear, Gale. Not to mention besides the bad we know about our dear bard, we don’t know much about your life before.”

Another pin stuck, and the door shifted, “Got it, let's go.” She stood and began pocketing the tools before she pushed the door open, “And we,” she looked at the wizard as he stepped up beside her, “did whatever we had to do to survive. I’m a much better pickpocket…” Gale raised a brow as they walked through the Nightfeast. “Is that so?” he pressed a button that was against the wall, “Much practice doing that?”

Vesper nodded as she balanced over the unleveled floor, “When I was much younger my brother Vale would play while one of our sisters danced, people would be so caught up in their drinks or the entertainment they never saw Perris and me rifling through their pockets. And of course, if they caught us we were fast enough to get away and Lothaire would just bully them into leaving us be.” She smiled fondly, “I miss them sometimes.”

Carefully sneaking by the two acid pools, Lae’zel spied the two large acidic blobs that clung to the ceiling, Gale found an area to begin his ritual. “I’ll leave the chalk markings here in case we need to come back later, just give me enough time to gather the others,” he looked at Lae’zel and Shadowheart who then looked at one another and nodded. It was Vesper they had to stop from wandering off though, the bard was too curious about what else this area of the place was hiding. 

When the others arrived, it took a little bit of time for Gale to perform the ritual the second time, they set out. They found a gnome with a large container of rune powder, the bard was practically a sweaty mess when the gnome gave them a vial of the powder and left with the larger one. She had to sit down after that.

“I think we’re better off trying to save the drow…or well, are we saving him or leaving him to die. Either way is fine with me, we just need his head,” Astarion said as he walked around the area where the gnome had been hiding. He was searching the bookshelves and looking over the stone tablets.

“We have to save the gnomes, Astarion,” Karlach said.

“Ugh, why must it be gnomes…”

Wyll pointed at the spawn, “You said something similar when we saved that man from the goblins back in Moonhaven. What do you have against them?”

“Nothing I suppose, just one of Cazador’s spawn…I assume they’re most like him really, so why save any of them,” he pocketed something from the bookshelf. “Weren’t we supposed to find something about the Nightsong in a Sharran temple?” he picked up one of the tablet fragments again, “This mentions the lady of loss more than once…”

“What? Let me see,” Shadowheart rushed to his side and began trying to piece the tablets together.

“You cannot hold an entire race of people responsible for the acts of one person,” Wyll shook his head, “Just because one of your spawn siblings bothers you, doesn’t mean that they’re all the same.” Astarion scrunched his nose in annoyance, “I think you’ll find I can. I’ve yet to meet a gnome who amazed me…”

“Did your gnome brother tattle on you or something?” Gale asked as he helped Vesper back to her feet.

“More than once…”

The others got quiet before Karlach cleared her throat, “Right well…let’s annoy the piss out of Astarion and save these gnomes. Because slavery, Astarion,” she pointedly looked at him, “is bad.”

They entered the hottest portion of the area, lava flowing just under their feet, and Vesper had to adjust her illusory image to give her sister’s face the appearance of sweat. She met with the sergeant who didn’t have a tadpole but seemed to be a believer of the absolute anyway. With the mention of a vial of rune powder the dwarf practically pushed her forward toward the gnomes. And there was a familiar face.

“Barcus Wroot?” she said softly and one of the deep gnomes turned and looked at her, “Hello. I’m not supposed to talk but…do I know you?” Her eyes widened before she remembered the face she was showing, while it was just like her own even the change in complexion and the different hair might make her look like a different person. “We met at the windmill, I–I saved you from the goblins,” he looked her over and nodded slowly, “Right. Well…if you could be as heroic now that would be great…they won’t likely keep us alive after we get the drow out of here.”

Vesper nodded, “Stay away from the lava,” she took the vial of rune powder out of her pocket, “try to avoid being used as a shield. The blonde doesn’t mind collateral damage.” The gnomes paused and looked at the vial, “Go, run for cover.” She turned and walked back to Astarion’s side, “Don’t shoot the vial yet…” he glanced at her through the corner of his eye, “Why?”

Vesper tried to make sure the man behind the rubble wouldn’t hear her as she used the tadpole to speak to the others, “Kill the dwarves. We risk the gnomes if we don’t take them out now.”  She saw Karlach begin to stretch and heard her, “Right then.” She glanced at the others and received subtle nods from Wyll and Gale. Lae’zel began to stretch and reached for the hilt of her long sword while Shadowheart hid her face behind her shield, though she could hear the cleric as she began to say a prayer.

“Go ahead,” she said to Astarion with a nod.

The rogue still seemed unsure as he hesitated for just a moment before he lifted his hands, “Ignis!” A flame lashed from his fingertips and hit the sergeant right in the back, “Oops…I missed.” The sergeant turned and drew her sword, “Traitorous bastards!” 

The under dwarf let out a yell for help that was eclipsed by Karlach’s rage as she rushed forward and shoved the sergeant into the lava. It didn’t stop the scrying eye that had been hovering around them from calling for help though.

Barcus and the other gnomes did as they had been told and ran for hiding places, two taking the opportunity to shove the dwarves or to try and trip them as they came running. With her rapier in one hand and the other holding her crossbow, Vesper focused on the dwarf that was trying to shoot them from above. When she missed twice she dodged the blow of a dwarf near her and called to Wyll. The warlock misty stepped onto the balcony and with an eldritch blast threw the duergar off of its perch.

Shadowheart pulled one of the illithid bombs they’d found on the nautiloid from her side and threw it in the center of a group of the duergar, “Gale!” The wizard swung around and summoned a fireball atop the grouped dwarves before jumping back from the swing of one near him, “Karlach! A little help please!”

It wasn’t the strength of the duergar that gave the party issue, but rather the sheer amount of them and the room’s hazards. Vesper danced on her toes around the duergar trying to avoid their weapons while at the same time trying to steer herself away from the lava, the two duergar clearly trying to push her in its direction.

Astarion came up behind one and stabbed his daggers into each side of the dwarf’s neck. Despite armor upgrades and careful dodging, the group did receive injuries and as Lae’zel beheaded the final dwarf, one wearing a mask that had been a particular annoyance for Astarion, they each took a moment to heal themselves. 

Barcus ran forward while they collected themselves, “You did it! I can’t believe it…but inside there are more of us…please.” He stuttered the last bit, staring at Vesper who nodded, “Right, hide again.” She looked at Astarion and Gale who glanced at each other before Astarion turned and cast another firebolt cantrip at the rune powder.

As the dust cleared, Vesper stepped forward, watching gnomes run out and a male drow stepped from the rubble. He swore at one cowering female before shoving her into the lava, Vesper jumped forward, “Stop that!”

The drow looked her over, and Vesper realized where she’d screwed up. Yasmine didn’t care about another’s pain. She quickly schooled her features and narrowed her eyes at the man in front of her. “What happened here?” he questioned looking at the bodies surrounding the area. The bard licked her lips, tasting her own sweat and blood that ran down her face. Shit, there was blood on her face but probably not Yasmine’s. “True believers against traitors…we survived,” she said, her voice faltering as she was unsure if she wanted to say that they were True Souls.

Nere looked her over and stepped forward, “Very well. You will dispose of the gnomes, they have–” “No I won’t!” she said and felt her tadpole writhe in answer as it pushed into his head. The Absolute has other plans for these gnomes. His head tilted, “Yes…yes–” he frowned and shook his head as her attempt at charming him failed, “Lies!” Vesper’s eyes widened and she turned to try to avoid his lunging hand.

His fingers slid through the illusion of Yasmine and found purchase on the lip of her collar, not chancing it he gripped tightly and jerked the bard backwards. Like lightning thrumming through her body, Vesper screamed as she felt the threads in her shoulder pull before snapping as she was thrown behind him. She rolled as she landed and hiss as the lava popped hitting her boots, “Shit, shit, shit!” Vesper cursed as she tried to crawl away from the most dangerous part of the room. Unfortunately for her, every time she moved her arms to pull herself up the pain in her shoulders thrummed through her.

“Save her!” she heard Astarion yell and felt three sets of hands pulling her arms and pulling her away from the molten lava. She released a pained cry as the gnomes dragged her away from the fight and she felt the loss of the magic over her appearance as her disguise fell away.

From their hiding spot she could hear Karlach’s enraged yell and the sound of metal cleaning against metal and then just hard breathing. Footsteps pounded against the grate and she felt hands on her hips turning her over, “Vesper!” Shadowheart’s panicked voice met her as she turned and lay flat on her back. The cleric began unbuckling her armor, “Your collar.”

The bard nodded, “Take it off…just fucking take it.” Tears rolled down her cheeks from the abrupt pulling and the jerking that had happened at her throat. Barcus Wroot was still hovering over her as he watched the cleric strip the bard of her armor and then there was Astarion a knife in hand, “It’s alright, darling, we’ve got it from here.” Brandishing the blade just in front of her Vesper felt herself slipping and soon found herself within her own mind. In that boat where she’d been during her night with the high elf. 

She could barely hear the sounds as the boat rocked in the dark waters. Shouting was softened to a whisper, something cool across her forehead and cheeks while her shoulders burned. Until there was nothing but the burning where she ached. No sound besides the water lapping at the sides of the boat, she was safe again. The pain would lapse and she’d awaken to new aches and bruises.

“I just hope I can move my arm after this…”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

“Use your tadpole, it’s a connection to her.” Vesper frowned as the new voice, deeper, but with an underlying worry she wasn’t used to. “Let me,” that was…Gale? Vesper sat up in the boat and looked around before an image of Gale materialized in front of her. “Gale?”

“There you are…you can wake up, we’re out of the Grymforge now. Wait–can you wake up?”

“How did you get here?” she tilted her head as Gale just sat there in front of her. This image of the wizard had none of his mannerisms, his hands stayed rested on his thighs as he spoke and he didn’t emote in the way she was used to.

“I’m using the tadpole. We’ve brought you back to camp…we need you to wake up, we need to know that you’re alright. Going comatose as you did gave us all an awful fright, please…wake up.”

There was a warmth surrounding one of her hands, her shoulders…didn’t ache or burn any longer. She flexed her hand and felt the warmth tighten around it.

“That’s it, you’re doing wonderfully. Can you move the other hand?”

She turned to look at her other hand and wiggled her fingers before looking at Gale. “Perfect, though you just scared Wyll with a little tickle. Careful of your legs, but move one of them?”

Slowly she reconnected with each part of her, Gale giving her encouragement each time a new part of her responded in the waking world. As her eyes opened she was shocked by the golden glow over her, she turned to the hand that had been held so warmly and found Halsin smiling down at her, “There you are,” he said in relief. 

Shadowheart let the spell fall and bent until her forehead was pressed against the bards, “Lady of Sorrows, Vesper don’t do that again. We tried everything to wake you and nothing…nothing worked.” The cleric choked as she repeated the second nothing, when she sat up Vesper looked up and saw tears in her companion's eyes, “We didn’t know if it was the worm or if we’d just lost you. You were breathing, and your heart was beating but–”

“I’m okay,” Vesper said softly and flinched when she heard the barking laugh of Astarion. Slowly she looked around, they were surrounding her. Even Lae’zel stood behind Shadowheart, worry etched on her face as Vesper made to sit up.

Halsin used the hold on her arm to help pull her up and Vesper paused when she realized it didn’t hurt when he pulled. Her free hand came up to her chest and felt…nothing. Astarion sat at her feet, Gale just beside him, “Nere ripped the back threads, nearly detached the whole thing…” The wizard nodded as Astarion spoke before adding, “If the gnomes hadn’t acted so quickly…we thought you were going to go in.”

She heard a surprising voice pipe in and turned to see Barcus as he nodded to her, “Hardly seemed appropriate to let you die after you had just saved us. Consider us even…” Vesper nodded mutely and continued to rub her fingers across the bare skin of her sternum before her right hand reached up to feel the raised area where her bone hadn’t healed right.

“Careful,” Halsin said, “in their haste, it looks like the people who saved you may have agitated the break. I wanted you awake before I healed the fracture.” He looked toward all of them, “It will only take me a moment, the rest of you should go and relax. I have it from here.” One by one the others got up, Wyll placed a careful hand on her shoulder as he left. Shadowheart pushed past Lae’zel, the gith hanging around before she began to remove her armor. The only one who didn’t leave was Astarion who stared at her injury.

‘It could end the whole thing if it’s not enjoyable.’

He’d just uttered those words the night before. Unconsciously she covered the area and looked at Halsin, “I didn’t mean to worry everyone. I just…” Halsin shook his head as he assured her, “You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You’ve learned a technique that many have when in a situation similar to yours. Escaping to a safe place, though I’m sensing not many here knew about you doing that.” Vesper cut her eyes to Astarion who cleared his throat, “I’ll get some rags and water, to clean your neck.”

She watched as he got up and walked away, her eyes trailed him as he retreated to his tent before she felt Halsin begin to manipulate her arm. Gently he lifted it to straighten it before bending it more, his eyes watching her face for any hint of discomfort. “This is alright?” she nodded, “Perhaps I healed more than I intended the first time. Astarion made something of a mess of your shoulders trying to find the threads, Wyll mentioned he seemed determined to remove them all while Gale came to retrieve me.” 

The wood elf continued to stretch her left shoulder, up and down, pulling it back and then in front of her. When he was satisfied he moved to her right arm and this time Vesper tried to move with him. She stiffened when she felt cold water touch the nape of her neck, “It’s only me. I’ll let you wash the front, but let me get the back.” She had expected it to be Astarion, but he had apparently passed the task to Shadowheart who scrubbed heavily trying to get everything off of her.

“How long did you wear that device?” Halsin asked as he lowered her right arm and began prodding at the marks on her shoulders, “Two years maybe? Possibly almost three, I can’t remember exactly.”

Shadowheart paused before returning to washing. Halsin wet another rag and held it out for the bard, “I know I’m pushing for us to reach Moonrise, but if I may suggest to the group…take a day before moving on to this crèche Lae’zel would like to reach. If only to be certain there are no other surprises from the collar’s unexpected removal.” Vesper didn’t reply to the druid, she just took the rag from him and began to scrub at the dirt the collar had hidden and left behind after all this time.

There was a clinking sound and Astarion kicked a crate over to the fire before he set down several bottles of wine, “I think we all need a drink after this.” Picking one bottle up he glanced at it before removing the cork. Pouring two goblets full he set them beside the bard and cleric before picking up a third for himself, he glanced at the silver cup before tossing it down and tipping the bottle to his mouth. “Very classy, Astarion,” Shadowheart said as she finished cleaning the back of Vesper’s neck and shoulders, “but thank you.” She lifted the goblet to her mouth with one hand while the other reached up and tugged the bard’s hair loose from its bun, “If you’re self-conscious we can figure out a way for your hair to cover your shoulders. I can’t imagine it’s easy to go two-three years of them being hidden to suddenly being exposed.”

Vesper nodded dumbly as she continued to scrub at her throat. Eventually, the others joined around the fire again as Gale began cooking. No one mentioned the collar, no one even brought up that she’d gone comatose. Thankfully no one brought up the fact she’d nearly died. Again.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Astarion had been correct, they all needed a drink or twenty that night. Vesper settled in Astarion’s tent after only two goblets full, though she does carry her third into the spawn’s space. “I didn’t realize you were planning on staying with me tonight as well,” she heard and turned, careful not to spill the contents of her cup. Astarion kneeled just outside the flaps of his tent with a smirk on his face, “Don’t mind me, you go right ahead and get comfortable. I’ll just enjoy the view.” The bard frowned before she realized she would have been on her hands and knees crawling into the tent when he followed behind her, “Astarion,” she admonished while her cheeks flushed.

“What? Am I not allowed to watch?” once the drow was settled against some of the cushions in his tent, Astarion followed behind her, settling across the way, his legs resting on top of hers as he stretched. “Someone has to be admired and as I can’t see my own face, I guess yours will have to do,” he said as he continued to stretch lazily. “You can’t see your face? Right…mirrors,” she frowned and took a sip, “do you miss it?” A gray brow lifted as he lowered his head to look at her, “Do I miss petty vanity? Of course, I do! I haven’t seen this face in nearly two hundred years, I don’t even remember what it looks like anymore.” 

“It’s a good face,” she said as she lifted her goblet to him, “a beautiful face.”

His smile softened under her compliments, “Could–” he stopped and shook his head. “What?” Vesper moved to fully sit up asking again, “Could I?” Astarion took a breath and held it for a moment before he breathed out the question quickly, “Could you draw me?” The bard, who had been waiting patiently, frowned and shook her head, “I wouldn’t do you any justice in a drawing. Portraits require details that I’ve never gotten right…” She looked down before her hands paused reaching over to her goblet, “but there is something I can do.”

“Are you going to recite poetry about how beautiful I am?” he retorted, trying to fight the crestfallen look that had come over his face when his request was denied. But when he looked back up he jumped back because Vesper was right in his face, “Hold still,” she said as she moved her eyes over his features. 

“What are you doing?”

“I want to make sure it’s right…where’s your mirror?”

“I’ve already explained–here–I cannot see myself in the mir–”

He stopped talking as she spoke a familiar incantation and her own facial features began to morph. Her long red hair became a silvery blonde, in the mirror’s reflection he could see her teal and violet eyes become red and…sad, her cheeks hollowed, and her cheekbones were higher. “Is that…”

Vesper stared in the mirror then turned to look at him, “One second,” she moved the mirror behind him and adjusted Astarion so she could compare her reflection with the real thing. “Alright, now I’m just a tad bit drunk but I think I’ve got it right,” it was so odd hearing her voice come out of this masculine appearance but Astarion was in awe. Swallowing hard he reached out and turned her chin to have a better look at her, “This is me?”

The pallid face smiled at him and she nodded, “This is you. See, what I meant about you being a very pretty man?” When he reached for the curls on the illusion’s head his fingers first met air before he felt the bard’s own, just a couple of inches below where it was supposed to be. “It’s still only an illusion,” she said softly, “I can try and adjust it to be closer to my face, but yours is just a tad longer than mine.” “No,” he said as he looked into the red eyes he’d never seen before, “no, this is…this is perfect. How often can you change this…” She pursed her lips and Astarion watched as his face made one he recognized as hers immediately, “Don’t do that…” he chuckled, “Your expressions on my face are…well, I suppose I wouldn’t know if they were wrong per se, but it's odd.”

She laughed and shrugged her good shoulder, “I can cast this a couple of times if I have enough magic. Changing its appearance though takes some time, especially when I have to keep concentrating on the spell. If you were a wizard I’d say we go ask Gale how he summons his mirror image.” Astarion’s lip curled but then he stopped sneering, “I don’t think he’d be up for teaching me how to use the weave. It’s so precious to him.” 

“It wouldn’t do any harm in asking, he asked me the other day if I wanted to compare magics. If the way I cast magic felt the same way he did…he might enjoy teaching you,” she offered and Astarion shook his head. “No,” he said with a whine, “He’d enjoy teaching you. Not me. We just don’t get along, my dear.” He still had a hold of her chin and was now turning the face in different directions, pausing when he realized he could see two scars on the side of the neck. “You included those as well?” his voice warbled as he pulled back. “Should I not have? I didn’t want it to be a false image,” she sat back and crossed her arms over her middle.

“No, it’s… it's fine…thank you, now please, drop the illusion?” 

She let her concentration fall and looked in a mirror again. Gone was the visage of the high elf in front of her and instead, she just saw herself. Astarion caught her as she quickly looked away and frowned, “What is it?” 

“Hmm?” she glanced toward him as she settled back on the opposite side of the tent and sipped at her wine. “Don’t ‘hmm’ me, you looked disgusted after looking in the mirror,” he said, his tone accusatory while she shook her head and kept her head down. “I don’t know what you mean…I saw myself and I decided to sit back,” Astarion’s eyes narrowed at her answer before he pulled his legs under him to lean toward her, “Do you think you’re disgusting?”

“Don’t you?” she asked, lifting her chin higher. She was biting the inside of her cheek to try and keep control of her emotions. There were mirrors at home but for the most part, she avoided them, no one ever cared how she looked, only if her body was satisfactory. Astarion eyes scanned her face and stopped on her lips, “No. Not at all…why would I? And think very carefully about how you answer that question.” Vesper’s eyes darted upwards as she choked out a singular laugh, “Don’t be ridiculous, Astarion. Caz–” she stopped when she saw his lip begin to curl, “That bastard chose you because of your beauty…I was a pawn to Issac. Handed over to whoever had enough coin or a big enough debt that Issac didn’t want to pay off. I’m no more than a piece of gold to be passed from hand to hand.”

She lifted the goblet and drank. Vesper was barely able to swallow for a third time when a cold grip pulled the cup from her mouth, “Those sounds like your bastard’s words, Vesper.” When she didn’t answer he moved closer until he straddled her legs, “Look at me.” Her chin lifted, no need for him to do it, but she still wouldn’t look at him, “Vesper, darling, eyes on me,” when she finally lifted them she knew he would see the tears welling. He was right of course, it was Issac who made her feel this way. Issac, who constantly told her how worthless she was besides being passed off.

“I’ve spent two hundred years bedding any beautiful soul that would follow me back to, as you said, my bastard’s palace. Do you know what they had in common? How beautiful they were…” he said as his hands bracketed her cheeks and his thumbs wiped away the hot tears from her eyes. “I had thought to seduce you the moment I laid eyes on you,” he paused, and his head bounced from side to side, “once we became allies I mean…the moment I saw you I thought you worked alongside those tentacled freaks.” His smile spread when he heard a soft giggle from her lips, “Nevertheless, two hundred years of orders kicked in when you invited me to join you. A beautiful little elf, all red hair, and charm…”

“Are you saying that you would have taken me to him?” she asked her eyes growing round.

“You would have been just fit for him to invite me to dine with him…I would hate doing it, taking you to him, but it’s true,” he said as he swiped his fingers under her eyes again. “Even with your dark circles and scars, you’re incredible.”

She blinked twice before pulling her head away from his hands, “I don’t know if you’re telling the truth or if the wine has muddled my head.” Astarion frowned and sat back, “Let’s just say that if you didn’t have your issues I’d have bedded you several times already. As horrible as it all was I did like having gorgeous people writhing beneath and on top of me…” 

Her teeth ground together as her face flushed more and she heard his chuckle again. “You think it’s funny when I blush,” she said softly and Astarion hummed in appreciation. “Yes, these little flushes of purple on your cheeks do delight me,” he admitted, he didn’t go back to his side of the tent. Instead, as he got off her lap he settled just next to her and leaned close to her ear, “It has me curious if you flush like this when you’re actually enjoying sex.” Her face lifted to his, “Must everything be sex with you? You’ve got your own problems…I thought you’d be happy to not be–”

“Performing? I am…but is that not what couples are supposed to do? Find fulfillment in each other bodies?”

“I don’t know. I thought so…”

“So,” he said as he tucked a bent knuckle under her chin, “should we try?” Her mouth opened and closed without an answer. Pulling her closer until his nose touched the tip of hers, his voice lowered to a whisper, “I should thank you for your gift after all. It is all because of you I know just how beautiful I still am.” Her face betrayed her sadness and Astarion pulled back, “What’s the matter, my sweet?”

“You shouldn’t want to sleep with me because I did something nice for you, it feels…like a payment. I,” she pulled back again and shuffled away, “I don’t want this,” she motioned between the two, “to feel like it used to. I…” Vesper trailed off her focus now on her hand as she pulled it back to her, Astarion tilted his head and shifted closer to her, “You what?”

She looked up at him and blushed again, “I want it to be real…” a breathless laugh left her before she shook her head, “Don’t listen to me…I’m being drunk and silly.” The bard leaned forward and took up her goblet again, missing the flash of confusion before Astarion smirked. She finished her goblet before the vampire’s spawn took it from her again, he leaned close to her, “Then let’s be real.”

He glanced away long enough to set the cup on the ground before turning and placed his hand against her cheek, coaxing her forward, “Tell me no…” he hesitated, waiting for her to stop him. When no answer came, he pulled her closer until his lips met hers. Vesper allowed him to lead, numbly allowing herself to slip away until she felt a fang nip at her lip, “Oh no, stay with me…” he whispered against her mouth. 

Her eyes sprung open and met his crimson stare, she could see and feel when he smiled, “You said you had kissed someone before…try and remember then. Unless you want to say no?” Astarion glanced down at her mouth before looking up again, “Do you want to say no?”

The rogue was so close that when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, she touched his mouth and he took it as a sign. His mouth shifted over hers and he used his weight to push her onto the floor of the tent. The hand not cradling her face found her side and gripped tightly, taking his time to move underneath the flimsy leather top she still wore. He chuckled when she shivered as his hand grazed over her skin, “Just make sure you’re quiet, darling.” He sat up and quickly pulled the ties of his tent flaps allowing them to flutter closed before he removed his shirt, “We wouldn’t want the others peeking in now, would we?”

She lay there staring up at him, though she could see the glow of the underdark’s flora through the stitching of his tent he was still cast in the greyscale of her dark vision. Even then he was breathtaking. Languidly she reached out a hand for him and he took it into his hands placing a kiss against her bruised knuckles before flipping it over and kissing her palm. 

When he kissed her again she tried to recall those nights from ten years before. The now faceless boy she had rolled down the hills with, the way her body had responded. “Out of your head,” she heard a whisper in her ear and opened her eyes again to see the high elf’s raised brow, “where are you?” She frowned at the question. Astarion’s hand cupped her cheek and he ran his thumb across her brow, “Where are you?”

“We’re in the underdark…” he nodded and bent his head lower pressing his lips to her now naked throat. A chill went up her spine and her breath caught in her throat when he nipped his teeth across the now-exposed skin of her throat. She heard his appreciative hum and flushed, he lifted his head and captured her mouth again. The hand that had rested on her side slid lower, tugging at the lacing of her leather trousers. 

On instinct, her hand moved quickly to grab his wrist and he stopped before whispering, “Who are you with?”

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked him over, “I’m with you…” his head shook, “Not good enough, little bard. I want to hear my name.” He bent down and caught her ear lobe just between his teeth before he whispered again, “Who are you with?” Despite her holding his wrist he tugged at the lace that held the panels together, “Astarion,” she answered in a hushed voice.

“I want you to enjoy this,” he said as he pulled his hand from the lacing and began to trace the top hem of her pants against her abdomen. “I won’t fuck you unless you let me, I just want you to know how your body feels when it enjoys it.” Astarion dipped his head back down to her throat, his tongue tracing a path down until he met the junction of her throat and shoulder. He easily found the raised area where her bone hadn’t properly healed and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

“But you–” 

“No, I’m fine. I’ve enjoyed myself most thoroughly,” he used his other hand to wiggle the metal fastener of her top, “I was right about how far your blushing goes.”

 Further down he moved until his mouth closed around a nipple. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she stared up at the roof of the tent. Between teeth and tongue, she felt an unfamiliar tug in the pit of her belly and a warmth that she could only recall once. 

When he switched to her right breast he pressed a kiss to the scar just above before he began to tease her again. His hands worked on her pants, tugging at the leather that hugged so tightly. Curiosity had her planting her feet on either side of the elf and lifting her hips, and the warmth in her core multiplied as he chuckled against her skin.

As he trailed down he nipped at her softer flesh on her middle. She reached down to stop him with one hand but he caught it and pinned it to her side, “Use your voice.” Astarion paused as he glanced upward but she didn’t say anything, still looking upward and covering her mouth with her hand. “Vesper?” she shifted and looked at the rogue who smirked and leaned up to move her hand and kiss her again, “You can still say no. Tell me to stop and I will…” She watched his eyes bounce back and forth before she licked her lips again, “Do you want me to stop?” 

Blood was rushing in her ears, she wanted to keep going but wanted to stop all the same. “Would you hate me?” she asked and he shook his head, “Not at all, my sweet.” He started to back away before she grabbed him, “I don’t want to stop…”

Astarion’s smile grew and he bowed his head, “Alright.” Bending to catch her lips again she heard his chuckle as she copied him and placed her hand against his cheek. The rogue used his foot to kick her pants further down her legs until they were off. This time rather than just holding her side his nail divoted into her hip as he pulled her close and bent down to her throat once more.

His mouth paused over her pulse, the hard beat of her life pulsating under his lips and for a moment she wondered if he would bite her then. It was enough of a distraction that she didn’t realize his hand left her hip until it found the apex of her thighs. A surprised gasp left her and she removed her hand from his face to cover her mouth again, to his amusement.

As his finger slid between her lips, his mouth came back to her ear, “I think you know what desire feels like now.” He lifted off of her and brought the finger he’d run through her to his lips, her eyes wide as she watched him taste it. 

“Delicious.”

He made no move to toy with her body again as he moved downward, settling his body between her lifted knees. Pressing a kiss to the top of one of Vesper’s knees, he descended, and again her eyes found the roof of the tent very interesting. Astarion had not done this in the woods, she expected his tongue to be just as cold as the rest of him but was surprised by the not-icy feeling against her sensitive flesh.

Then he found something, one nudge and she shuddered, her hips jumped, and her knees attempted to close. Astarion didn’t allow them to, just as he had held her arm pinned before he now held one of her legs open wide while he used the other to spread her lips.

A breathy moan left her when that tautness she had felt before tightened again and the chilled air of the underdark made goose flesh of her skin. Or was it Astarion’s doing?

There wasn’t much room for thought as he continued moving his mouth over her. His tongue danced between that sensitive bundle of nerves down to her entrance. The tightness in her belly twisted, tighter. She kept mentally repeating the answers to his previous questions. She was with Astarion. They were in the underdark.

Astarion. Underdark.

His nails scratched over her mound, slipping down the junction of her thighs and core. 

Underdark. Astarion.

Her hand not covering her mouth gripped the bedroll she laid on. There was no longer a difference in temperature between his tongue and her body, it was just the ghost of pressure as he teased that spot with the tip of his tongue.

Underdark.

There was a distinct difference when she felt cold fingers press into her, her hips tried to raise and were pushed down. The motion was neither rough nor gentle. She lifted on her elbows and looked down, a shudder running through her as she met Astarion’s unwavering gaze from between her thighs. “Astarion,” she whined in a whisper before biting down on her lip to stop another noise from passing through her lips as the tightness broke in her and a rush of heat flooded her. 

Vesper’s head fell backward and she felt him move over her, his teeth finding purchase on her neck while her hips still stuttered, and his fingers were still there. They were still in her thrusting through her rush of elation. At the height of her orgasm, she couldn’t feel when his teeth punctured her throat, but the rush of blood leaving her made her heady feeling…more. When the quaking of her body halted she could feel him pulling more from her and ran a hand over his shoulder, her fingers raising when she would catch the raised edges of his scars.

Astarion settled back, laying the bard down gently after removing his fingers from within her. His gaze was still on her throat, where she felt the warm droplets run before he reached past her and pulled a healing potion from his armor, “Drink.” She obeyed his command and watched as he poured water from a jar into a chalice he kept in his tent. He wet a rag, and then another, cleaning his face and hand with one he threw it down and took the other before leaning towards her, “I can do that…I’m used to it.” She said with flushed cheeks.  

With a lifted brow, Astarion finally nodded and passed the rag to her. Once she was clean he reached for his discarded shirt and passed it to her, “We’ll find you something more comfortable to wear soon. Maybe Lae’zel’s crèche has an abundance of laundry somewhere.” He grunted as he laid down on the outside bedroll, “Surely they cannot wear that armor all the time.”

Vesper pulled the ruffled shirt over her head and grabbed for one of the blankets to cover her lower half.

He turned to her, his hand twisting in her direction to lift her chin to keep it from bowing to her chest. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again until they heard Karlach’s voice.

“Are you two finished? Shadowheart and I want to go to bed but we also don’t want to listen in….” Vesper’s jaw dropped as her head twisted out of his grasp to stare at the tent’s opening. Astarion’s own eyes rounded in surprise before he started cackling, his eyes squeezing together tightly as he laughed. He ran his hands across his face, “By all means. Have the sweetest of dreams, darling Karlach.”

“Yep,” the tiefling grunted out before they heard her shoes scuff as she walked to her tent just behind Astarion’s. The drow’s face was drained of color as she turned to look at Astarion, who laughed harder when he got a look at her, “I did tell you to be quiet.” 

More scuffing was heard outside the tent and a horrified Vesper looked at the close flaps, “If he bit you during that I won’t be restoring you tomorrow.” The bard buried her face into Astarion’s naked side and groaned. The rogue wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he shook from his laughter and daubed his eyes with his other hand. 

“Are you finished?’ she asked as she lifted her head. Astarion looked down at her and shook his head, “No. But I’ll stop…for you.” Vesper sat up and reached for her pants, “Maybe I should sleep by the fire…” Astarion reached for her hands, pulling lightly, “No. Don’t go. What will the others think of me if you leave after such a pleasant evening? I’ll go get another blanket if you’re cold.”

Vesper looked down to her naked thighs and then at Astarion, “I’d have to fight with my trousers anyway wouldn’t I?” He nodded, “Unless you wanted to give Halsin a show…not sure that he’d mind.” The bard lifted her head, her eyes wide again and Astarion chuckled, “It’s true…I don’t think he’d mind if the whole camp was nude. He’d probably be happy to walk around without clothing.” Relief flooded the bard and she shook her head, “I thought you were implying something else.”

Astarion’s tilted his head and pursed his lips, “I might…though I’d rather not consider you with someone else when I only just got a taste of the real you.” He gave her wrist another tug, “Stay with me.” Heat stained her cheeks as she laid down on the inner mat and shifted to her back beside him. Just as she assumed he would, Astarion shifted to his side and laid his head against her breast, her heart pounding against his cheek. “Even this feels nicer, no leather digging into my face,” he said as he closed his eyes.

[vampiresfromxenon]

Luscious, Succulent, Delectable

Astarion x gn! Tav/Reader

Around 2.3K words

Tags: Fluff, so much kissing, so much moaning (so so much), body (thigh) worship, consensual touching, mutual love, they are so insanely in love, slight angst, consensual biting/blood sucking, soft! Astarion, implied smut, no y/n

Summary: After a tough battle, you can’t help but fall apart in your tent, aching both inside and out. Astarion, whom you’ve recently committed to a relationship with, comes to your side to comfort you. Wanting to help you focus more on yourself and what your wants and needs are, he finds himself lost in exploring your thighs. 

~

It’s been a long day. Hells, it’s been a long life. One day you wake up on a Nautiloid ship and suddenly you’re responsible for saving not just yourself, but pretty much all of Faerûn. Lucky you, right? Life’s punching bag, here in the flesh. 

It’s not all bad, though. You’ve been met with some kindness along the way, though perhaps not as much as you feel you deserve. One of your traveling companions, however, has certainly delivered on his promises of ‘kindness’. For nights on end you two would sneak off into the woods, exploring each other’s pleasure limits, and for many, many mornings, Shadowheart was less than pleased to cure you of your bloodlessness. 

As time went on, you learned more about Astarion, your pale, vampiric friend. You had your doubts about him at first, but you had grown to love him, caring for him deeply the more you learned about his past, the more he became vulnerable around you. After a drow from Moonrise Towers was very persistent to have Astarion drink from her, and you supported him in telling her to ‘fuck off’ (but in nicer words than you’d hoped for), you found yourselves re-evaluating your situation. 

The vampire had grown to care for you, seeing much more in you than just protection. He saw something deeper, something real and fresh and… It was a bit much for him at first, but over time you both grew to be even more comfortable around each other, finding yourselves enjoying the smaller, lighter moments of intimacy that rose from being deeply in love. 

Tonight was no different, as your party returns to camp from defending Halsin’s portal in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. You were covered in blood and bruises, trudging along to your tent at a slow pace. Most party members found themselves skipping dinner, just trying to sleep off their wounds and soreness. You found yourself nearly doing the same, sitting down on a soft cushion as you remove your armor, tossing it off to the side to be cleaned and polished later. Lying on your bedroll in your night clothes, you softly sigh, your body relaxing enough to where you can feel the full extent of the trauma your body went through today. Closing your eyes, you begin to doze off, trying to forget it all and think about what a new day could bring. 

“How are you feeling?” A smooth voice asks, the flap of your tent crinkling as a figure wanders in. You wake with a start, sitting up to meet the new inhabitant of your tent. 

“I’ve never felt better. Poets could write sonnets about how at peace I feel.” You sarcastically scoff, rolling your eyes. 

Astarion grunts as he sits at your side, taking claim of the cushion you were previously on. It’s clear that today’s battle had also hit him quite hard. “I’ll be sure to sing along as they recite it.” He teases, trying to hide his discomfort. You both sit there in silence for a moment, not wanting to show a sign of weakness talking about how much your bodies ache from the day’s activities. You can’t help but break the silence first.

“I don’t know how we’re expected to do all of this. My whole body aches, I’m unsure if I’ll be able to walk properly tomorrow!” You say, exasperated.

“You carried on just fine after all those nights I left you unable to walk…” He snickers, and you playfully push at his chest. 

“I’m being serious! This is a lot of pressure, so many people are relying on us, relying on me… I just don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.” Your eyes land in your lap.

Astarion takes a softer tone, hating to see his love in such a melancholy mood. “Darling…” He sighs, his hand resting on your thigh. You flinch a little, your legs badly bruised. He is quick to notice this, and he begins to gently massage your thigh through the fabric, hoping to bring you some comfort. 

“You take on too much. I know you want to help, it’s a damn curse that you care so much, but we have to focus on taking care of ourselves for a bit. We spend so much time helping other people that I think you forget we have that hellish tadpole behind our eyes. We don’t have much time left, but I know we have enough for you to take a break. Please, you need to rest. You can’t solve everyone’s problems, especially when you can’t solve your own.” 

You find yourself on the verge of tears, trying to take in all these words that he would have never said to you before you became close. Hearing this from him, seeing this side of him, you know he’s serious and means every single word. He notices your silence, your closed-offness from the conversation, and he gently places his fingers on your chin, tilting your head up to meet his. 

“Promise me you’ll take a break? Only focus on the tadpole stuff for a bit?” He softly asks, his eyes switching between both of yours, looking for any sign of confirmation.

“Ok…” Is all you can breathe before he leans forward to hug you, both of your bodies trembling slightly from the bruises brought on from today. He pulls from you, placing soft kisses on your cheeks before a delicate one on your lips.

“I want to help you relax.” He offers, and you nod your head, trying to follow his words of advice about taking more time for yourself. He smiles as he moves down your body, slowly removing your trousers, leaving you in just your nightshirt and underwear. He tosses them off to the side, taking in the sight of your legs. He frowns before saying something in a low, rumbling, lustful tone.

“Oh Darling, those bruises should be from me.” 

He sighs before crawling between your legs, his hands caressing the sides of your thighs as he lifts your legs over his shoulders. Moving his hands up and down your thighs gently, he takes in the scent of your skin. A smile creeps on his face as your body shivers from his touch, already very eager for more. Knowing this, he decides to take his time, teasing you for as long as he can handle. His hands begin to curl around your thighs, his fingertips dragging along the inside curve of your thighs now.

“Gods, why have I been sleeping with that ratty old pillow when these have been here this whole time?” He growls, gripping your thighs a little tighter, holding them closer to his head. 

You let out a small gasp from both the pain and excitement from his touch. He’s massaging your thighs a little harder now, and you can’t help but let out small moans here and there, only encouraging him to continue. You throw your head back into the pillow, your hand on your mouth as he massages a particularly sore spot. Seeing this, he stops, waiting for you to meet his gaze again. Distraught from his lack of touching, you open your eyes and look down at him to see him gazing at you through his lashes.

“Don’t you ever hide those sounds from me, darling.” He purrs, a commanding tone in his voice. He reaches through your legs to remove your hand from your face, his hand trailing down your torso in a teasingly slow pace.

“I’m not even close to being done with you yet, I intend to make you sing all night. Your throat will be aching for ages…” His words are dripping with lust, and your heart races at his usage of those dirty double entendres. His hand slips between your legs, hooking around your left thigh again, bringing it closer to his face.

Maintaining eye contact with you, he licks a stripe up your leg, starting near the junction between your torso and thigh, ending all the way up to your knee. His breath tickles your skin as he chuckles, watching you shake from his attention. He does the same with your other thigh, making sure to go just a little bit slower to really drag out your slight frustration. Your chest feels tight as it rises and falls quickly, the sound of your panting becoming loud enough to be quietly heard from outside your tent. At this point, neither of you cared if anyone in the camp heard you; it wouldn’t be the first or last time they’d hear it. 

“Your body is so soft, so beautiful, so perfect. Your thighs-” He kisses the inside of your left thigh near your knee softly, his tongue tracing at your skin. As he continues to speak, he sloppily kisses down your thighs, panting from all this excitement he brought on himself. He laps at your skin like a wild, hungry animal, your legs a fresh, raw, succulent steak.  

“They are delectable, darling. ~mhm~ I just can’t get enough of them. ~mhm~ The knowledge that you get to have them, ~mhm~ that they’re part of you, ~mhm~ that you walk around with them ~mhm~ every day. ~mhm~ Gods, I envy you. ~mhm~ If I had legs these perfect, ~mhm~ I’d never ~mhm~ hide them ~mhm~ from the world. ~mhm~ Just the sight of you, ~mhm~ lounging on cushions, ~mhm~ your legs draped on each other, ~mhm~ the way your legs look so soft ~mhm~ and inviting… ~mhm~ It's a wonder how ~mhm~ I don’t just take you ~mhm~ right then and there. ~mhm~ You drive me crazy, ~mhm~ my love. ~mhm~”

He pulls away from your thighs, both of you so riled up that you feel as though the air has been knocked out of you. Your head is hot from all the blushing, all the flattering comments, all the kissing. His face is slightly flushed, his pupils blown out, his eyes brimming with both love and lust. He almost sounds drunk as he speaks, his voice nearly cracking at the thought of what he wishes to do to you next. Pleading, he lies his cheek on the inside of your right thigh. 

“Your thighs are so delicious. I just need a taste. Just a quick taste. Please.” You can’t deny him, not after how much pleasure he’s brought you without even touching you like that yet. You nod your head, and even though he appears desperate, he makes it clear that he’s still the one in charge, the one with the upper hand.

“If you want it, you’ve got to say it.” You whimper as he massages your leg, teasing you. 

“Yes! Gods, yes!” You breathlessly exclaim.

Without wasting a single second, he sinks his teeth into your left thigh, moaning as he bites harder into your soft flesh. You moan with him, the feeling of both pain and pleasure extremely stimulating. In all your excitement, you clamp your thighs together, almost crushing his head between them. He moans even louder, his hands pressing into your thighs, encouraging the pressure. Had your legs not already been bruised, you’re sure you’d have the shape of his hands in your skin for a few days after this. During all of this, you can feel his body moving, shaking… thrusting. If you weren’t already moaning, Gods only know how you’d react to the sight of him rolling, perhaps almost slamming, his hips into your bedroll as he drinks from you, his head clamped between your thighs.

As he drinks from your thigh, you feel the sharp stinging pain from the initial bite fading away, the tingling numbness taking its place. You can feel the blood leaving your body, and it feels different from how it usually does when it leaves your neck. It’s a new, exciting feeling, hard to compare to your neck as both give such different feelings of pleasure. 

You can feel him slowing down on drinking from your thigh, his throat thick with your blood, his moans slowly turning into needy little whimpers and whines. He pulls from your thigh, eagerly lapping up the blood that drips from the two puncture wounds. The sight of his desperation makes him look like he’s never had anything to drink before in his life. The pressure from your thighs around his head releases, your legs falling open as you relax. You both lie there together, his head resting on your right thigh and looking up at you as you both try to catch your breath. He goes to speak, his voice wavering as he still continues to pant, his body now full of more energy thanks to your blood.

“For a moment there, I couldn’t breathe at all. I thought about pushing your legs away from me to catch my breath, but then I realized that I could die happy knowing that my head was crushed between your luscious thighs.” 

You laugh, realizing how ridiculous his statement is, as well as how arousing it is too. He smiles, gently kissing the puncture wounds on your thigh again. Climbing on top of you, he nestles his hips between your legs, and you can feel just how much he enjoyed all of that. He leans over you, kissing you lightly, pulling back to gaze into your eyes. 

“Thank you.” You quietly say, brushing his hair out of his face. Your hand caresses his cheek, feeling how warm he is with all your blood rushing through his body. 

“No, thank you. And besides, don’t think we’re done just yet, my love.” He gives you a knowing look, cocking his eyebrow. “I want to be the main reason you can’t walk tomorrow.” 

Before anything else can be said, you hungrily grab his face, his lips crashing on to yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing his body closer, his chest grinding into yours. The night wanders on, your tent rustling, full of moans and panting breaths, two people utterly, embarrassingly in love. 

~

Author’s Note:

GUYS. Ok think back to that one scene where he drinks from Tav for the first time. You guys remember that one line of dialogue that happens if you persuade him off of you? “Mhh? Oh, of course. That - that was amazing.” His little whimper. His gulp. His panting. That one line alone was such a huge inspiration for how I wrote this, I need you all to know that that’s basically what he sounds like during most of this fic. Do with that information what you will- 

(Also this is probably the closest I'll ever get to writing smut. I don’t feel 100% comfortable writing smut, but I hope you guys enjoy the moments like these as much as I do!!)

[dancingbirdie]

Hello there! I adore your fics and how you wrote Astarion! I was hoping you could write something around the succubus scene? I know you get comforted by Astarion later on in the game regarding it, but due to his own trauma and backstory I would have liked to see him stand up for Tav and protect them during that scene itself, instead of just standing by while Tav is being manipulated 🙈

If you could do something around that, it would heal me! 😂🙏

Hi, anon! I hope you enjoy. I really liked your prompt, but I'll admit it did get a bit darker than I had originally thought I'd write it.

Please take note of the content warnings before you read! As always, comments and reacts are appreciated.

No Self-Sacrifices

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x gn!Reader/Tav

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings/Tags: Discussion/description of dissociation, implied sexual assault, mentions of Astarion's past, descriptions of violence, blood, mild gore, death, angst.

*****

“Why don’t we play a game?” the Raphael-look-alike called to you seductively from the ridiculously lavish bed. “You win, I give you everything you desire. But you’ll enjoy yourself more if you lose.”

Astarion began to sense that all too familiar, uneasy feeling coiling itself tight inside his chest. The premonition that something was about to go utterly, horribly wrong. He risked a glance toward your allies, Lae’zel and Halsin, but they appeared just as woefully confused as you did. As if you all weren’t aware of the trap you’d just walked into. 

“What’s the game?” he heard you ask. He could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck.

“It’s a surprise! Off with your clothes,” the devil commanded.

There could be no doubt as to what would take place. Surely, Astarion thought, none of his companions could be so blind as to not see what was about to happen. 

Astarion watched as you bit your lip, hesitating. How you looked wildly about the room, as if you were searching for any last-minute way to avoid this. With his preternatural senses, he couldn’t help but be aware of how your heart rate spiked to a frenzied pulsing as you stood there, terrified of what was to come. 

He watched in horror as your shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. Defeated. Resolving to go through with this. And as you began removing your clothes, his vision turned nearly as red as the fiend on the mattress before you. 

“Good, little thief, good,” the monster crooned, totally unaware of Astarion’s brewing rage. “Keep going like this, and you’ll get to live. You’ll be crying out my name soon, you’d better know it. I am Haarlep, Raphael’s personal incubus…” 

The incubus - Haarlep - prattled on while Astarion continued to seethe with barely-contained fury. His fingers twitched, itching – almost of their own accord – to reach for the crossbow strapped to his back. He began shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, restless. He caught the glare Lae’zel was leveling at him from his periphery and turned his head slightly to meet it. 

She gave a slight, but obvious, shake of the head. A silent command to stand down. Then he felt the tadpole squirm in his brain, while a voice that was distinctly Lae’zel’s echoed in his mind. 

Don’t act rashly, vampire. We need to gather more information before we strike.

Astarion nearly laughed aloud. The audacity of this Githyanki, willing to let her comrade be violated in such a way. After all they had done for her. For this party. And yet, part of him knew he shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, he had known plenty of “heroes” who had let equally horrible fates befall others without so much as lifting a finger to help them. 

“It matters not to me.” Your deadened reply to Haarlep brought Astarion back to the present moment. He recognized that tone of voice. Knew when someone was trying to dissociate. To disconnect their mind from their body. He knew all too well what that feeling was like. And it was nearly as horrible to watch as it was to experience it for himself.

“Very well, I will be Raphael himself,” Haarlep continued. “All of him. Now, on the bed. Lie back.” 

Astarion made his decision when he saw you begin to take stilted steps toward the bed. Covering yourself with your hands, trying to maintain some modicum of modesty as you climbed up. 

With Haarlep’s attention solely on you, he reached behind him for the crossbow. His index finger felt for the trigger as he pulled it around before him. One swift flick, and an arrow was suddenly lodged in the incubus’ left pectoral.

Chaos erupted as imps suddenly appeared throughout the room, responding to Haarlep’s distressed cry. You toppled off the bed, head knocking onto the floor, as the fiend raged above you, trying to right themselves and extract the arrow from their chest. 

“Tsk’va,” Lae’zel cursed in Gith, hefting her sword over her shoulder and barreling toward the first enemy in sight. “To battle it is, then!” 

Halsin shifted quickly into his bear shape and let loose a formidable roar, charging for another group of imps across the room. 

But Astarion only had eyes for Haarlep. He stalked slowly toward the bed, unsheathing the twin blades from his back as he did so. 

You watched as he gave one brief, wicked smile before utter carnage ensued.

*****

“Kainyak! Your foolishness nearly cost us all our lives,” Lae’zel spat venomously toward Astarion while she wiped her blade free of the fetid black imp blood. “I should strike you down now for acting with such stupidity.”

To his credit, Astarion barely seemed to acknowledge the Githyanki’s formidable censuring. You watched as he slipped his daggers back into the sheaths at the small of his back and readjusted his armor. He picked up his crossbow and shook it free of blood before strapping it back between his shoulder blades.

“You still have all your limbs intact, Lae’zel,” he replied airly. It was a stark contrast to the way he was standing, body as taut as a bowstring. “And wasn’t that bloodshed so much more satisfying than watching the incubus violate our dear party leader?” 

Lae’zel’s mouth snapped shut, but she continued to glare. The vampire had a point, though she was loath to admit it. 

“I, for one, prefer this outcome to the alternative that was before us,” Halsin agreed, rising from where he had been crouched after dismissing his ursine form. He glanced your way but averted his eyes quickly, to your confusion. 

“Best get dressed, darling,” Astarion drawled, coming over to where you still lay prone on the floor. “As delicious as I find your birthday suit to be, I’d wager you’ll fare better in this wretched place with a little more clothing on.” 

He held out a hand to help you rise to your feet. You observed him cautiously, trying to discern the emotion behind his carefully schooled expression. 

“Why?” you whispered. 

He squinted at you, one brow quirked. “Are you seriously asking me why armor is prudent to have on, in a place like this?” He chuckled before adding, “gods, you must’ve smacked your head harder than I thought.”

“No,” you retorted, refusing to be deterred by his cheeky banter. “I mean, why did you attack Haarlep? You’re never one to be spoiling for a fight.”

Astarion scoffed, pressing a hand to his chest as if insulted. “Careful, darling. You’re almost making me out to be a pacifist.”

“You know what I meant, Astarion,” you grumbled as you began donning your leather breeches and jerkin. 

“And would you have preferred to be fucked by that incubus instead?” Astarion bit out derisively. 

Your head whipped up to meet his gaze, hearing the sudden change in his tone. 

“Of course not,” you scowled. “But you could sense how powerful they were. It seemed like the only way to ensure your all’s safety.”

Astarion grimaced. “So you would have just laid down and taken it? For us?”

“I’m not saying I would have enjoyed it,” you hissed. “But to keep you safe? Keep them safe?” you gestured to Lae’zel and Halsin across the room, polishing and re-polishing their weapons as they attempted not to overhear your barely-whispered argument. 

“Of course,” you concluded, voice resolute. 

“Don’t be a fucking martyr. Not for me. Not for them. Not for anyone,” Astarion growled. 

Your brows shot toward your hairline in surprise. 

“We know what we signed up for when we joined this rag-tag group,” he continued, tone icy. “I’d rather fight a hundred fiends than watch you debase yourself to save anyone, including myself.” 

You let loose a mirthless laugh, feeling angry, embarrassed and too completely exposed. Before you could think better of it, your retort was flying past your lips. 

“You know, Astarion, you have a fucking funny way of showing appreciation for your partner who was willing to be violated in order to keep you safe.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. You immediately knew it, and so did the rest of the party. Suddenly it was like the air had been sucked from the room. 

Crimson eyes bored into your own as Astarion took a step forward to meet you, chest to chest. You glared up at him, refusing to back down. Refusing to be chastised for your willingness to protect him. 

The shared air between you was charged. You could almost feel the electricity surging. 

“Need I remind you? I’ve been violated enough times over the past 200 years to know how unequivocally monstrous it is,” he intoned, his voice pitched dangerously low. “I will promise you this. I am finished with having it happen to me, in front of me, or for me.”

Words escaped you. It was all you could do to maintain eye contact with him, feeling the conviction in his tone. The anger that had sustained you up until this point had all but disappeared. In its place was something far more demure. 

“So yes, I fired the first shot that pierced that devil’s skin. Then I eviscerated their neck with my teeth,” he crooned, reverently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You shivered at his touch, at his dulcet tone that was describing such violence. 

“And I slit his throat with glee,” he continued, cupping your cheek in his palm. “I would do it again. And again. And again. Because I will never witness abuse like what was about to happen, ever again.”

He swept the pad of his thumb over the hollow under your eye, his gaze flicking rapidly over your face. As though he were subconsciously checking you over for any nicks, cuts, or bruises. 

“Do you understand?” he whispered softly. His voice was still laced with rage, but you could tell it was not directed toward you. Really, it never had been. 

The entire situation had obviously touched the most sensitive pressure point within him. Had triggered his urge to fight, to protect, to resist. You couldn’t be angry with him for that. Never. Not one bit. 

You gulped before nodding slightly. “I understand now. I’m sorry.”

You lifted your hand to cover his where it was still cupping your face. Turning slightly, you planted a kiss against his palm. 

“No self-sacrificing on my watch, darling, agreed?” he murmured, wrapping his other arm around your waist in a solid embrace. 

“Agreed,” you confirmed, returning his embrace before venturing on through the House of Hope.

[vibingandsimping]

This is exactly who you think it is. 🦜🦜

Might I request the origin characters (+ Halsin) of your choice caring for a burnt out/sick Tav?

Hello! I shall call you bird anon…

(Leave me and my family alone)

But ask and you shall receive! Requests/thoughts always make my day.

Origin characters + extra companions taking care of an exhausted reader pt. 1

No forewarnings besides maybe some suggestive mentions and a little angst. Mostly all fluff + comfort… barely proofread

Characters included in this part: Astarion, Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira

Astarion

Astarion, when you present him with the problem after his insistent pestering, is a little lost. Everyone has their breaking points and their limits. You just held a confident front for so long that he started to believe you truly lacked one. He suggests the pleasures of the flesh at first. “To ease that pretty mind,” he claims with a smirk. You can tell in his gaze it’s his default- he was used for his body for so long it’s clear he’s unsure of what else to say. A bit of frustration with both him and his past bubbles up. It hurts to know he values himself that little and at the same time… it’s frustrating that he thinks it will solve anything. After a curt “No thank you.” he seems to deflate a bit. You stalk off to your tent as he watches from afar.

He sat with himself as he contemplated his abilities. You’d done so much for him over the period of time you’d known each other. Quite frankly, he hates to say it but he’s realized he’s taken you for advantage. He reminisces over the times you’d let him feed and he has had his nose pressed into your skin. How he’d inhale your scent and memorize it with your blood. He broods over it for a little before beginning to test different scents and oils. What he believed would work with your body chemistry and what he knew you liked.

It’s an hour or so later when you hear slow footsteps. Whoever it was made their presence known, so as to not scare you with a sudden intrusion. You’d been laying with your head in silence and the dark due to how it throbbed. Everything seemed so loud and overwhelming. He speaks smoothly and announces his arrival, you just grunt in acknowledgment. It seems to amuse him as he laughs gently and places something on the ground. Which? You’re unsure- and you could care less to check right now. It’s only when you hear the flick of a match and the room illuminates that you peek. He has a couple of wax candles laid out that seem to be dripping in mixtures. He smiles at you in such a way that you push suspicions aside. The room flickers with the light of the candles. “Relax. I made these special for you. Just focus on them and let the world wash away.” You watch him for a minute more as he lights the candles and the scent grows stronger as it burns with the wax. At first, it also overwhelmed you. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on taking deep breaths. With each inhale, you draw more of it into your lungs and feel your muscles slack. Whatever he used was working wonders to calm your body and ease your mind. He did miss his calling as a perfumer.

The feeling of cold hands on your neck tenses your so delicately relaxed frame. His voice comes out in a shush, making you shiver from the tone. The way his fingers move so slowly tells you he’s holding a part of him back. It’s likely the reflex to make things more… intimate. A part of you swells knowing that he is trying a more simple intimacy on you. Thumbs dig into the tense muscles until they’re worked from the stiffness. Soft moans of content escape your throat. Though, just the same are the groans of pain when he reaches a more tender spot. “You’re lucky you have such a caring companion.” He muses half-heartedly, an attempt to make you smile. It did, matter of fact. You’re sure he knows because his movements become more confident. You drop your head back into your pillow and breathe out a sigh. He didn’t say anything but you could feel his eyes on your back. It was quite comforting to know he was there if you needed it. You eventually drift into a half-conscious state as he works your tender flesh. By the time he’s left you to rest you were already asleep.

Gale

Gale’s watchful eye concluded your growing burnout long before it settled in. He was a wizard- a man who studied for a living. He understood frustration and burnout. He’s faced it many times before… and it’s never an easy thing. When you settle down at the camp for the night, he can’t seem to get his eye off you. You walk around slowly and seem out of it. The man sits in his thoughts for a moment longer and decides to make his way over to you. You, of all people, deserved to have a moment to relax and truly replenish your mind. His hand makes contact with your arm and you’re snapped from your daze. He gazes down at you with a softness and silently asks you to follow him. You’re too worn down to argue and just nod.

He winds you out of the forest and towards a still lake. A drinking deer turns and shoots out from its spot when you two arrive. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he bashfully smiles. “Water is soothing to the mind and muscle. I’ll take care of you- let me.” The moonlight dappling the water is tempting and he seems harmless enough with his request. You relent and begin to slowly peel the clothing off your body. Turning back around you stride into the water only to find it pleasantly warm. It was almost hot- glancing up at him as he removed his robe, you knew he tampered with magic to heat the water. You’re not complaining though. It’s already doing wonders to work out the aches in your muscles. He slides in behind you and asks you permission to touch you. You hummed approval as you closed your eyes and put your trust in him.

He lathers his hands with soap and begins to work your muscles along your back. Simultaneously massaging gently and washing you clean. His fingers work from your neck to your shoulder blades, down your spine, and to your legs. He slowly turns you around so he can repeat the same process down your front. He’s careful around your more intimate areas, eyeing you cautiously to gauge what’s too much. It feels nice to be doted on and not have to bathe yourself for once. You’re sure he knows it, too. Then, he whispers for permission to do your hair. You barely speak and instead hum once more. He chuckles a little before wrapping an arm around you and one under your head. He dips you into the water until your hair is thoroughly soaked and pulls you back up. Like that, he begins to lather shampoo into your scalp. His fingers work wonders and you moan a little. The moment is gone too soon for your preference and he’s washing it out.

After a minute more of holding you in the water as he rinses you off, he guides you out. You almost protest like a child, wishing to relish the hot water a little longer. He hands you a large linen cloth and you dry yourself off. Squeezing your hair until it no longer drips annoyingly and wrapping it around yourself to conceal your intimates. He follows alongside you back into camp and you head into your tent. He lingers beside you while you settle down and gather some night clothes. Then, as soon as the eyes are noticed, he leaves you to your own devices. You manage to get to sleep surprisingly easily and the night passes mostly peacefully. In the morning, your previous clothes are folded neatly outside your tent. They’re clean and practically spotless. Gale must’ve taken the time to wash them while you slept and hung them to dry overnight.

Lae’zel

Lae’zel’s instinct is to scold you for showing weakness. Githyanki are warriors and have no time to tend to the frail. Yet, you’ve proven anything but frail in the time she’s known you. She’s utterly torn and wears it on her face obviously. You’re unsure why you turned to her for comfort, it was obviously a mistake. You sigh exasperatedly and trail off as she watches. You almost make it to your tent before her hand wraps around your wrist and tugs you to look at her. “Battle me,” she speaks blatantly. “Githyanki soothe their mind and body with battle. It is all I know to do. Battle me.” There’s a desperation in her voice. She cannot stand to see you so exhausted and fed up. You squint at her and almost protest that all the battling you’ve done is what led you to this point. The expression she held deterred you. You complied in the end.

She leads you into a dirt clearing and unsheathes her sword. Her face is like the steel she holds in her grasp and you ready yourself. There’s a moment of silence and anticipation that hangs in the air as you two lock eyes. She makes the first move, launching towards you and missing the side of your face by a few inches. You retaliate and dig your weapon of choice into her side. She grits her teeth as she is sent sprawling a few feet away. The girl gives you little time to react. Her next attack flies at you and you two are a clash of steel and flesh. There’s an adrenaline that elicits your veins and your head clears. The worries of taking care of everyone fade and you focus solely on your sparring partner. It’s like a second wind that envelops your body. It takes you a few hits until you realize she’s purposefully leaving herself open and using weaker moves.

She was allowing you to win. To taste her blood and victory in battle. You’re almost insulted if it weren’t so flattering that she was laying herself openly for you. You lay a final hit on her and she kneels with her head bowed. The two of you pant as wounds seep blood. Nothing is too deep and can easily be fixed by bandage or magic. She pulls herself to her feet and smiles softly at you. “A formidable opponent. You underestimate your power.” It was her form of a compliment, you supposed. She then followed you back into camp and sat you down. She runs a wet rag along your scrapes and cuts. The crimson washes off and leaves the wounds exposed to the fresh air. The githyanki is gentle in her touch as she wraps them with a bandage and secures it in place. The muscles in your body flex as you test the hold before turning your attention to her. You go to tend her wounds but are met with a hand in your face. “I am fine. I am strong enough to take care of myself. You, on the other hand, need to recover to lead us onward.”

You quirk a brow at her before pulling away and allowing the campfire to warm your bones. She works deftly on sealing her wounds and you can’t help but feel a little rejuvenated. It wasn't pampering of sorts- but she cared. She tried her best to show it and that’s truly what mattered. She fought against her nature to shame you and instead attempted to cure your ailments. She was rough around the edges but had a soft heart. The thought made you smile softly as you watched the shadows of fire dance along her olive-green skin. She catches your gaze for a moment and seems flustered. “Go rest.” She commands softly and you laugh breathlessly. It takes you a moment to get to your feet but you manage it. Some sleep would surely help repair the worst of it as long as you took it easy the next day.

Jaheira

Jaheira was an older elf. She could spot the telltale signs of wear. Whether that be mental or physical. She took care of her harpers for just about as long as she could recall at this point. It felt nice to not have to be the one in charge- but maybe she took too much comfort in it. A little guilt weighed in her heart. Too late to dwell, though, you needed assistance. The crackle of the fire was all that could be heard as you sat in front of it. You were still- seemingly lost in thought. She groaned a little as she lowered herself to a seat. Her knees weren’t as they used to be. The sound alerted your mind and you snapped out of it to look at the woman. She smiled softly at you and handed you a goblet. In her other hand was a bottle of wine and her own goblet. “Do not worry, no funny games this time. Just something to unwind.” You scrunch your nose a little before grabbing it.

The bottle uncorks and she pours a glass for you two. It’s not the finest wine but certainly was much better than the gruel served at the tiefling party. You draw your knees to your chest and take a long sip. After she takes a sip of her own she clicks her tongue in thought. Her gaze isn’t on you but on the campfire as she begins to speak. “You are more powerful than you know,” she begins and you look at her from the corner of your eye. “I’ve seen it firsthand. You vanquished the curse of the shadowlands and defeated Ketheric Thorm. I am surprised you didn’t succumb to exhaustion sooner.” You tense, almost expecting it to be an insult. Her softness of tone betrays that thought. “You need to rely on your friends and company more. We are here to help. We care. I care.” She enunciates the last word by looking at you. You can’t help but feel a soft fuzz blooming in your chest. Was it her words or the alcohol?

“I took care of my harpers for a century or more. It is hard work to look after the well-being of everyone else and yourself. I think I became too comfortable in letting you guide me. I apologize for that, truly.” You open your mouth to speak but she shushes you with a point of her goblet. That gesture makes you flush a little and take a sip of your wine once more. “I have seen many people in my life. I have lost many people in my life. You are among some of the most… wonderful I have seen. I will be damned if I lose you to anything beyond yourself.” She smiles at you, the age lines on her face only speaking to how truthful she is being. You can’t help but feel relaxed by both the influence of the alcohol and her words. You realize anything you say would be practically pointless. So, you just shuffle to her side and press against her. She hums in satisfaction and wraps an arm around you. You can hear her swallowing her wine more clearly. There’s a comfortable silence that is punctuated occasionally by the crackling of the fire.

“Another pour?” She offers as she holds the bottle and you cannot help but laugh while gesturing your goblet. Indulging for a night hurt nobody and hell you deserved it. She refills the two glasses and rests her head against yours. There’s a mutual understanding of comfort and connection between you two as you sip and watch the fire. It’s nice to not have to say anything in return. To be able to simply sit and digest the fact that somebody appreciates the fact that you work so tirelessly for them and everyone around you. It’s only til your goblets empty again does she finally pull away and cork the wine. You stand and allow the buzz of the alcohol to warm your veins and loosen your mind. She offers a hand out with a sheepish smile, “Help a gal up?” you tease her for a minute and grab her hand as she hoists herself off the ground. She regards you with a softness and plants a gentle kiss against your forehead. You two part and head to your respective tents to sleep the night away.

[phaedrinthefaire]

I saw a post recently about what could’ve happened to Arabella post-game, but what I need to know is what happened to Yenna.

tldr Larian tell me what happened to my girl wait nvm ik what’s canon to me

Did she stay safe in the Elfsong during the Netherbrain’s attack? How did she feel when all of her heroes left the inn one last time? Whose care did they leave her in?

And then once the dust settles and the fractured remains of the party come back to celebrate, what then?

Maybe after weeks of her helping in the kitchen, the Elfsong’s chef finally begrudgingly admits he’s impressed and takes her on as an apprentice, and she becomes Baldur’s Gate’s finest. She grows up as the gate grows back.

Maybe Rion meets her in the midst of celebration and sees a companion for Fig in her, and asks if she wants a quieter place to sleep. Elerrathin’s Home finds a new balance as she settles in. Slowly, she has a family again. A home.

The companions might have something in mind for her. In awe of Tav’s magic, she could admit she wants to learn, and Gale enrolls her in the finest wizarding classes in Waterdeep. Shadowheart decides a little extra help on the farm wouldn’t hurt. (Dad)Astarion, longing for rest, suggests quietly that she can come with him, just for a while. If she wants! That on the road they might find a little peace, if not a little adventure too. (In my hc he’d only be brave enough to suggest it if he’s with Tav but I digress.)

Maybe her path only crosses with the companions again once she’s a little older. Minsc meets her in the city and recruits her good heart in his quest to change the Guild. Wyll and Karlach or Lae’zel return to the gate and find she’s become a young adventurer, a Baldurian through and through.

My favorite of her potential fates ironically is what’s most likely to be canon—Halsin sees her after their celebrations. She’s so tired. Their fellowship is breaking, and so is her something of a family. He knows the exhaustion hovering over fear in her eyes all too well. He wants to see light in them again.

So he takes her with him. Back in nature, she learns how to be a child again.

Brb going to go cry over Yenna. I love that little girl.

(I know we’re not getting a BG4 from Larian at least, but imagine a little sequel where you play as Yenna a few years later. Or any of the kids—Mol, Arabella, Fig. That would be so special.)