#bg3 angst

[connorsui]

"Where Safety Lies"

Pairing: Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Genre/warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Vulnerability, Emotional Healing, Astarion Feels

Note: I want to cradle astarion with love

w.c: 1,177

The fire had long since died down, leaving only the embers crackling faintly in the night. You were still half-asleep, curled under the blanket, when a sharp gasp cut through the quiet. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to jolt you awake.

You turned quickly, eyes adjusting to the dim light as you saw Astarion sitting upright beside you. His chest heaved with labored breaths, his eyes wide and wild, as though he were trapped in a nightmare even now that he was awake. His pale skin shimmered faintly in the moonlight, a sheen of sweat dampening his brow.

"Astarion?" you whispered softly, reaching for him.

His head snapped toward you at the sound of your voice, but his eyes were distant, filled with a fear you hadn't seen in a long time. He flinched when your fingers gently brushed his arm, as if still convinced that he was back in that dark, suffocating coffin underground—the place Cazador kept him locked away, a prisoner of his twisted whims.

His breath came in shallow gasps, panic clouding his crimson eyes as his body tensed, like the stone walls were closing in around him again.

“Astarion,” you called gently, moving closer, taking his face in your hands. He recoiled at first, a flicker of panic still sparking in his gaze. But when he focused on you—really saw you—the tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction.

“Darling,” he whispered, his voice trembling, barely above a breath. It was as if the word itself was a lifeline, pulling him back to the surface. His chest still heaved, but his gaze softened, the terror slowly ebbing away.

You could see the fragility in him now, how easily the cracks in his armor could spread when the weight of his past bore down on him. He looked lost, as if he didn’t know how to anchor himself to the present, as if he wasn’t sure he was truly safe.

“I’m here,” you whispered again, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re not underground. You’re not in the coffin. You’re here with me, Astarion. You’re safe.”

His arms wrapped around you almost instinctively, clinging to you with a desperation that tore at your heart. His cheek came to rest on the top of your head, his grip tightening as though he feared you’d disappear if he let go. The slight tremor in his hands didn’t go unnoticed, and you could feel the tension still coiled in his muscles.

“I can still feel it,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking it out loud would make the nightmare real again. “The coffin. The stone. The darkness. I thought—I thought I was back there.”

His voice cracked, and for a moment, you could hear the raw fear he kept buried so deep. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly, letting your presence ground him in the here and now.

“You’re not there anymore,” you said softly, rubbing small circles on his back. “You’re with me. No chains, no coffin, no darkness. Just me. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He let out a slow, unsteady breath, and something in his gaze softened further. The walls he had built around himself seemed to crumble, leaving only the vulnerability he so rarely showed. He leaned into your touch, his lips brushing against your forehead in the barest of kisses.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words laden with more weight than you could ever imagine. “For being here. For... everything.”

You smiled softly, your hands smoothing over his back as you gently pulled him closer again. He nestled against you, his cheek resting on the top of your head once more. The trembling had stopped, replaced by a quiet calm that only you seemed able to provide him.

“I’ll always be here,” you whispered into his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath against you. “Whenever you need me. I’ll be here.”

His arms tightened around you, and for the first time in what felt like hours, his breathing evened out, steady and sure. The nightmare had passed, leaving only the warmth of your embrace and the promise that he was safe—safe, loved, and cared for in ways he still struggled to believe.

The camp settled into quiet once more, the fire reduced to glowing embers. But you knew the night wasn’t over for Astarion. Even though he had calmed, you could still feel the remnants of his unease clinging to him, like shadows that refused to let go.

He sat quietly for a while, his breathing steady but shallow, his gaze distant once again, lost in his thoughts. You watched him, your heart aching for the silent struggle he endured. You knew what he needed—reassurance, comfort, a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

Gently, you reached up, brushing a hand through his white hair, and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. He flinched at first, surprised by the tenderness, but then his body relaxed, and he leaned into you, almost instinctively seeking out the warmth of your touch.

Without saying a word, you guided his head down to your chest, letting him rest there as you cradled him in your arms. His cheek pressed against your heart, his ear close enough to hear the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. The sound seemed to soothe him, his body melting into yours as though he could finally let down his guard.

“You’re safe,” you whispered again, your fingers combing through his hair in gentle strokes. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

He didn’t respond with words, but his arms tightened around you, holding you close as though he never wanted to let go. His body trembled slightly at first, but the longer he stayed pressed against you, the more his breathing evened out, his muscles relaxing completely.

You could feel the tension leaving him, the nightmare slowly fading into nothingness. He sighed softly, a sound that was part relief and part exhaustion, as if all the weight he’d been carrying had finally been lifted.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside forgotten. Astarion's cheek nestled against your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him into a state of peace he so rarely found. His arms remained wrapped around you, holding you as if you were the only thing tethering him to the present.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft and vulnerable, the words almost a secret.

“I love you too,” you replied, pressing another kiss to his head. You felt his body relax further, his grip on you loosening slightly as he allowed himself to be held, to be comforted in a way he had never known before.

As the night carried on, the fire flickered softly beside you, casting gentle light over the both of you. Astarion remained in your arms, safe, loved, and grounded in the knowledge that here—with you—he was free from the darkness that once held him captive.

Gimmie him plz ..I would cradle him

[namjoon-koya]

A/N: i wish we could see more of a reaction from our companions when dark urge “dies” after rejecting Bhaal, so I decided to write this!

Pairings: Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart.

Companions reaction when you “die” after rejecting Bhaal.

Gale:

When he saw your body drop to the floor he almost screamed, he knew gods could be cruel at times but Bhaal? He was even worse than any other gods he had read about, he killed you for rejecting to be his chosen Gale rushes to your side gently cradling you in his arms. He felt the stares of Minsc and Jaheria but he couldn’t face them, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

You had given him so much to live for, meeting you that day during the nautiloid crash he wouldn’t have ever changed or regretted that day even with the worm in his head.

“Please” Gale pleaded begging any of the gods to help you, he always felt like he could never be more than what he was and yet you made him see that he was more than that and that he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone.

Shadowheart:

She screamed your name and quickly rushes to you, she ignores minsc and Jaheria telling her to stay back. Why were the gods so cruel? First it was Shar stealing her as a child and imprisoning her parents, and now Bhaal killing you? She couldn’t lose you not now when her family was finally back home with her, she told you she wanted to find a quiet cottage and settle down with you and her parents by her side.

Bhaal was cruel she knew she heard stories about him, but would he really kill you for not becoming his chosen? She tried casting a healing spell on you, but nothing was helping you.

“Please this wasn’t supposed to happen” she cried as she held onto you.

The gods were truly cruel.

Astarion:

He doesn’t hesitate to rush over to you, to hell with Bhaal he’s already dealt with Cazador for years. While Bhaal terrified him, he cared about you more so when he saw you laying on the floor motionless he knew something was wrong. He remembered the first time you allowed him to drink from you, your heartbeat raced as he sunk his teeth into your neck or whenever you would engage in a battle the rhythm of your heartbeat was a acknowledgment that you were fine.

Yet now he felt nothing he couldn’t hear your heart at all, “wake up, you told me you wouldn’t leave my side” he remembered after killing Cazador he felt completely empty and he didn’t know why.

Maybe it was the fact he knew his days were numbered on seeing the sun and being able to walk outside, but you were there to reassure him that no matter what you’d follow him even if it meant living a life in darkness.

Astarion held you in his arms this was supposed to be a victory for you both, him being freed of Cazador and you being freed from Bhaal, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

[gale-dekarios]

halsin loves tav, very much. he loves their grey hair, their liver spots, their wrinkles, and their cataracs. he loves them as they slow down, as their body starts to give in to mortality, as they start to forget more than they should. and when it's time for them to leave him for a while, there's the most beautifully kept grave tucked away at the back of the cemetery, with flowers bursting from the soil for centuries to come. when the flowers stop growing, another name is added to the grave, and two lovers reach over planes to touch palms again.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

hey! i just had a request (if you like it!) - cazador taking astarion’s partner (reader/tav) when all the siblings try to kidnap astarion, and turning them, intending for them to take astarion’s place - ofc astarion and crew arrive in time and scene progresses as normal, but now reader/tav is a vampire spawn. just fluff and hurt/comfort

Oh wow this became far darker than intended, I hope you don't mind. I do feel a little bad for reader in this one, honestly. Part 2 can be found here!

Spoilers for act 3!! If anyone still needs this.

Astarion’s shout stirs you from your peaceful slumber and you sit up with a start, eyes wide. Your hand automatically shoots to your weapon, fingers curling around it when you see two figures slowly approaching your lover who back away, hackles raised.

“Peace, brother. We’re here to take you home.” One says and you frown, ready to step in if needed. The other one urges Astarion to return with them, to ‘be reborn’ and you quickly make your way to Astarion’s side, ready to fight if need be. You didn’t care that those two were vampire spawn, you would defend Astarion with everything you had. You weren’t going to lose him now, not after coming all this way.

Astarion’s hand gently brushes against yours, a silent thank you for your show of support as you size your potential opponents up. With a gentle squeeze of your hand, Astarion moves to step slightly in front of you and begins to tell his siblings of his plan to take Cazador’s place in the ritual, to ascend and his siblings are none the wiser about the lies he’s weaving.

You know how desperately he wants the ritual, how he yearns for the power it will give him and yet you’re torn between convincing him otherwise and letting him take it. You don’t want to see him drown in the pursuit of this power but you know how much it means to him, the idea of being able to walk in the sun again, the idea of no longer being under someone else’s control, so you keep silent, your mind in turmoil.

Either way, the encounter ends with Cazador taking control of the spawns and it delves into a fight as Astarion does all he can to protect himself and you do all you can to ensure neither spawn manage to lay a hand on him. By the end of it, you’re panting from exhaustion, scratches lacing your skin but the two spawns have been backed into a corner and you have emerged victorious alongside Astarion.

Or so you think.

Suddenly, a chill runs down your spine and mist turns into a humanoid figure with glowing red eyes. Astarion’s eyes widen and he takes an instinctive step back. The two spawn cower as a sneer forms on the humanoid’s face, a clawed hand reaching out towards you.

“Y/N I presume? I have heard much about you, it is an honour to finally meet you.”

Cazador.

You swallow hard, refusing to show the vampire lord a hint of fear and meet his burning gaze that stares into your very soul.

“Cazador,” you say, tone measured. “If only I could say the same.”

Why was he here? Was he going to forcefully take Astarion away? If he was, you were pretty much powerless to stop him by yourself and he would be able to start the ritual. You keep your eyes fixed on the vampire lord who is smiling unnervingly, standing your ground as he takes a step towards you.

“Thank you for taking care of my precious lost son,” he places a hand on your shoulder which you brush off, glowering at him. He remains unfazed despite your rude gesture, the smile still fixed on his face.

“You’re very welcome,” you say stiffly, still uncertain about what Cazador was here for. He hadn’t spared a glance at Astarion at all, which was odd and the other two spawn hadn’t made a single move to kidnap Astarion, even though now was the best time to do so.

“In return, I would like him back so that he may return home.”

“No.” You immediately growl without a second thought. “I will not let you lay a hand on Astarion again.”

“How courageous of you,” the vampire lord chuckles. “To think that my son has found someone like you…to guide him back. I really am extremely grateful to you.”

Astarion makes a noise, ignoring the shaking in his hands and moves to stand next to you. He can’t leave you to face Cazador alone, not after he’s promised to always be by your side and so despite the nauseating fear that is rising in his throat, he forces himself to face his tormentor.

“Now then, my boy” Cazador continues, gaze finally turning towards him. “I will give you a choice. You, or your precious Y/N.”

“What?” Astarion narrows his eyes.

“Choose. You, or Y/N.” Cazador repeats.

“What do you intend to do?” Astarion snarls. Cazador doesn’t answer his question and simply raises three fingers, slowly counting down. Confused, Astarion opens and closes his mouth, unsure of the consequence each choice will spell and a wide grin forms on the vampire lord’s face once the last finger is down.

“Time’s up, my boy. I suppose, I will have to make the choice for you since you cannot make up your mind.” Cazador places a hand on your shoulder. “Say goodbye to your precious Y/N.”

Astarion takes a step towards you, your name on the tip of his tongue but he is too late, slowed by the tadpole and Cazador whisks you away along with the other two spawns, back to his palace.

“No, no, no!” Astarion roars, hand grasping thin air. “Cazador!”

The others come running over at the commotion, confused when they see Astarion on his knees, sobbing and cursing.

“What happened?” Halsin asks, kneeling next to the wailing vampire.

“Cazador!” Astarion snarls through the tears. “He took Y/N!”

“He took Y/N? Aren’t you the one he’s after? Why did he take them?” Wyll asks.

“Didn’t you say you’d protect them? Why didn’t you?” Lae’zel snaps. Astarion whirls around, ready to tear Lae’zel apart but Halsin holds him back, the vampire thrashing in his grip.

“Calm down, Astarion. We won’t get anywhere fighting amongst ourselves. Do you have an idea of where Cazador might have taken Y/N?” Halsin’s low voice gently rumbles.

“His damned palace, probably,” Astarion mutters, guilt tearing away at him. He should have given Cazador an answer, he should have been stronger and pressed Cazador for answers, he should have pulled you away from Cazador the moment the vampire lord had placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Then we will head there immediately,” Jaheria smoothly takes command and the other nod in agreement. The longer you were with Cazador, the dimmer your prospects, for who knew what Cazador wanted with you? Time was of the essence.

“We will get Y/N back,” Gale said firmly. “We will rescue them.”

At Cazador’s palace, you were held in place by blood red glyphs as Cazador circled you, ruby eyes glowing in the darkness.

“You are a fascinating creature, Y/N. Time and time again, I’ve taught my imperfect son not to form a relationship, that such bonds are a weakness he cannot afford, and yet he still chooses to form a bond with you. He knew of the consequences that would follow, and still decided to proceed. I wonder what about you makes him decide to risk it all.”

You remain silent, glaring as hard as you can at him. He leans in closer, a cold finger traces along your jawline and stop at your chin.

“Is it because of how much you make him think you care for him?”

“I genuinely care for him, unlike you!” You spit, jerking away from his touch.

“Or maybe your looks.” He pretends to contemplate before tightly grabbing you by the chin and pulling you towards him.

“No…that can’t be it.” He smirks. “Oh, I know. It’s the delectable taste of your blood, isn’t it? I can see the bite marks, he clearly loves drinking from you.”

“Piss off!” You snarl despite the fear creeping into your chest. “Whatever goes on between Astarion and I is none of your concern!”

“Oh, but it is. He is, after all, my son.” Cazador leans even closer, pressing his lips against the bite marks on your neck. “And you too, will become my child.”

His fangs sink into the soft supple flesh of your neck, painful and harsh unlike Astarion’s bite and you hiss, struggling to get away but the glyphs hold you tight. Your heart thunders, blood rushing in your ears as you snarl, spit and thrash as hard as you can but his fangs remain firmly lodged in your neck, your precious lifeblood gushing down his throat. Spots start to form in your vision and you feel yourself weakening, life fading away.

“Oh, don’t worry.,” you barely hear him as the world starts to turn black. “I don’t kill my own children.”

When you wake, everything is dark, but something feels different. Your sense of smell is sharper, you can see the lines of wood in the dark and…

“Welcome back, my child.” The sound of wood scraping rakes your ears and you quickly cover them, hissing.

“How are you feeling?” Cazador smiles, setting something down before turning to you, holding out a hand.

“Get lost!” You slap his hand away, trying to take in your surroundings. You’re in some sort of underground area, judging from the leaking ceiling and the musty smell in the air. The tiny squeaks of rats fill your ears and you notice chains hanging from the wall in front of you, covered in dried blood.

“How rude. It seems the first thing I must teach you is manners,” Cazador tuts. “Repeat after me, ‘I am fine, thank you for asking, master.’”

“Go —” A presence dominates your mind, sending your tadpole squirming as it tries to take back your mind. You scream, the tadpole’s fight tearing your mind apart and you hear Cazador snarl in frustration.

“That blasted thing!”

He looks back up at you, a smile slowly reforming itself upon his face. “Still, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to have complete control over you for my plan to work. All I need is you.”

“What do you intend to do?” You pant, head throbbing.

“Why, have you take that boy’s place in the ritual of course. He chose to sacrifice you instead of himself. Now come along, I would rather not have to drag you out in front of your new siblings.”

You quietly follow him, mind still struggling to wrap around recent events. One moment you were trying to find Gortash and Orin to prevent The Absolute from taking over Baldur’s Gate, and then next you were Cazador’s latest vampire spawn, a sacrifice for his ascension. Cazador didn’t seem to mind your silence, tightly holding onto your hand to ensure you couldn’t just run away, not that he would have much of a problem catching you anyways.

He leads you to a grand hall where a pentagram has already been drawn with blood in the center of the floor and seven pedestals surround it. His other vampire spawn each stand on one, waiting for further instructions and you glance around nervously. Would the others be able to find this place before it was too late?

Cazador unsheathes a dagger, snapping his fingers and glyphs appear around your wrists and ankles once more, forcing you to kneel on the ground in front of him. He slices your clothes open, tossing them away until you’re half naked and bends down next to you.

“I believe you know what comes next.”

Bile rises in your throat, your clawed fingertips digging into your palm as you prepare yourself.

“Go rot in the hells.”

He laughs, knowing that all you can do is spit words at him and raises the dagger with a sadistic grin.

Then plunges it straight into your back.

The pain tears you apart from the inside, gnawing at every fibre of your being as you keenly feel each and every sinew being split open by the dagger, warm blood coating your back. You can hear screaming, was it coming from you? You couldn’t tell, your mind was far too hazy to make anything out.

Everything hurts, everything hurts, everything hurts.

You scream until your voice turns hoarse, but Cazador doesn’t stop. He continues with his work of art, twisting the dagger whilst its blade is embedded in your flesh whenever you collapse, shocking you back into reality. Over and over again he marks your flesh with Infernal script and you wonder how Astarion pulled through this.

Suddenly, the dagger stops. Cazador shouts something but your ringing ears can’t make out anything. Something red slams into the vampire lord and sends him crashing into the floor with a war cry, followed by an axe.

The glyphs holding you up disappear and you feel yourself falling, but not an inch of your body obeys your command to break your fall. Before the floor can meet you, a pair of warm arms wraps around you, holding you steady.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

You stare blankly at the floor beneath, wishing it had ended your suffering but then you remember that you’re a vampire spawn now and simply smacking into the floor wouldn’t kill you.

“Y/N? Talk to me,” the voice speaks again. Your swimming vision barely manages to scrape together an image and through the haze your mind recalls a name. Wyll.

A small noise escapes your lips and the Blade of Frontiers lets out a sigh of relief.

“You’re alive, that’s good.”

“No,” you whisper. “Not. Alive.”

“Not in that sense,” someone else speaks. Halsin.

Something new warms your back, blue light shimmering around you, “don’t you dare fall asleep.” Shadowheart.

“As…”

An angry cry pierces through the air. More shouting. Then. Silence. A figure rushes to your side, silvery curls stained with blood.

“Y/N!” There’s panic in the voice. “Darling?”

“As…ta…rion.”

“You’re safe now,” he pulls you into a hug. “You’re safe now.”

“Hurt…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Astarion chokes. “I’m sorry I let that monster take you, I’m sorry I let you get hurt, I’m sorry I was late.”

His apologies are met with silence, your body limp in his arms as you struggle to stay awake. You want to reassure him, you want to say something but your body refuses to cooperate.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s my fault that you were taken, I promised to protect you and yet, and yet I —”

“It…s…ok.”

“It’s not!” He snaps. “It’s not ok! Nothing is! I let Cazador take you! I let him turn you! Now…now you can’t walk in the sun anymore! Not once that damned tadpole is removed! You’ll constantly feel the hunger! Others will call you a monster!”

Astarion stops when he sees the fresh tear streaks on your face, biting his lip hard. You come first, you need him right now. He pushes his self-hatred away and focuses on you, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly, ignoring the blood that seeps between his fingers. He presses his lips against the top of your head as your shoulders shake.

“I’m right here, my love. I’m right here. I promise, you’re never alone. You will never be alone. I will be right here, by your side to help you shoulder your burdens as you’ve helped me. I promise.”

[lavender-romancer]

Starving

Astarion x (Durge) Reader

CW: angst, fluff, sexual tones

He needed you. But in his dark pit of starvation he feared he pushed you away past the point of return.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

You didn't seek love in Astarion no matter how much you wanted it. What would affection and adoration do for him when what he really needed was a friend, a confidante. Someone he would never think was using him. After so many years of abuse that violated his very understanding of intimacy and consent, you wouldn't dream of overstepping any boundary in existence. Trying to talk him off a metaphorical ledge of ostracism was more important than physical urges. He didn't need to feel alone or terrified someone would hurt him again. Whilst Astarion could easily protect himself, you decided that when he wasn't hiding in the shadows you would protect him from any enemy he came across.

After saving Faerûn the two of you had decided to live together, much to Astarions confusion, you wanted to stay close to him. Offer up your blood freely to him and create somewhere that felt safe for him. He was still plagued with nightmares, but you began reading deeper into alchemy to try and help him through his trances.

He never understood why you were so supportive of him. 200 years and he never met anyone so genuinely dedicated without expecting much in return. All you asked was that he wouldn't run away if they had an argument and that he wouldn't feed on any other people. It was simple and there was a deep rooted respect between the both of you no matter how much you flirted with one another, there was a boundary. It had never been crossed, he had never been touched without giving his consent, just as Astarion would never touch you or bite you without consent.

Why you had decided to help and live with him after everything that happened was beyond him. Why not Shadowheart? Or maybe Halsin? Even Gale would- Astarion had to stop himself in thought as he remembered how utterly boring he found Gale. He was much better company, even with a very slight fondness for the wizard, Gale was hardly a casual conversationalist. Mostly resorting to threats about hurling a fireball at someone or casually reminding everyone he was a walking bomb. No, Astarion was more fun. Maybe that was why you liked being around him? But he had become so comfortable with you, he found it so easy to talk about his past when the two of you would sit by the fire in your respective arm chairs and read.

Those moments in front of the crackling logs were monumentally special to him, he had no idea how to express his gratitude

You expected so little, asked for much less and respected him. Whenever he would make a mistake or break something he would immediately start profusely apologising, still mentally conditioned to expect a physical punishment regardless of remorse. But all you did was ask for his help to clean up the mess and you both moved on, you were two barely functioning adults but seemed to help one another. You still remembered little from your past, your childhood or anything in between but helping Astarion gave you a purpose that mattered. It was hard to focus on your own shortcomings when you had a whiny (bitchy) vampire to live with and help. But it worked. The two of you were trying to be normal and doubted that you could on your own.

Whilst the two of you had your own demons you were in a pact of some sorts, neither of you wanted to leave the other to deal with those demons alone. Your other companions were constantly confused by whatever your relationship was. Assuming it was romantic and sexual but, being even more confused upon finding out it wasn't. There was always a feeling something would happen between the two of you, but neither you, nor Astarion would admit it. Both of you too scared that you would lose the other forever if anything romantic happened.

“What wine would you like?” You asked, walking into the front room holding two bottles of red. Astarion was sitting in his armchair illuminated by the fire. The orange hue danced around the shadows of his face and it made you want to take him in your arms and never let go.

“Whatever is older, darling. Things do rather improve with age you know.” Astarion replied with a slight smirk and you rolled your eyes.

He couldn't take his eyes off you as you left, the way you leant against the doorway showed the curve of your stomach and hips. Astarion had to snap his brain out of it as he realised he was staring at the curve of your breasts as you turned to leave. Why was he so unbearably horny today? He supposed it was the night that he usually fed on you. Maybe his bloodlust created a different kind of lust all together? He had been admiring you like this for too long now, it couldn't be bloodlust that made his cock twitch and the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Sparing quick looks as you made a confused face when you were reading and got to a word you struggled with, he loved when you would ask for help so openly and without shame . It was something he desperately envied about your character. Your nose would sometimes scrunch up when he would tell you how to pronounce the word because apparently it was “stupid to have silent letters”. But recently, especially when he had been feeding on you, he couldn't stop wanting to touch you. He wanted to pull you close and never let you go, fuck you for hours and never leave your side.

“I made something for you. Well. Decanted I suppose.” You walked back into the front room with two goblets of wine and a vial of something tucked under your arm.

“What's that?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. After setting the goblets down you handed the vial to him. He already knew what it was before looking more closely, he could smell it. Your beautiful sweet blood.

“For your convenience.” You smiled down at Astarion but he didn't look best pleased. You thought this might be easier, at least for you. Everytime he fed on you all you wanted was to touch him, get some kind of friction because to your shame it made you so ridiculously aroused.

“When did you…” his voice trailed off and your palms began to sweat.

“Do you not like the idea?” You asked sheepishly, ready to snatch the vial back.

“Well, darling, the feeding process is a nice experience and it…” he was trying to find any words to retain the physical closeness you had whilst feeding. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you last time it happened?”

“What makes you ask that?” You sat down in the armchair adjacent to his.

“I…” He felt if he opened up that things would never be the same. So it was easier to close everything off again. “If you would like to change things I can go back to stalking other pretty things in the night.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Sometimes you're impossible. This is more convenient for when I'm not here or when I-”

“When you eventually leave, you mean.” The words crawled out of his mouth with such malice.

“I did not say that, Astarion. Stop acting like a child and communicate!” You yelled back as the heat rose into your face and your eyes began to prick.

“Oh shall I get on my knees and pray to the saint that has allowed me to exist with her blood? There are plenty of places I can get it if you won't offer up your neck for free!” He fired back, getting just as riled up.

“I'm freely giving you my fucking blood! I'm still giving it to you. What difference does it make? I try so hard. So fucking hard to make you feel secure and understood but you react to everything like a child!” You stood up and walked a few paces towards the fire with your back to him.

“I didn't realise I was such an inconvenience in your pretty little head.” Astarion almost laughed, a petty attempt to get a rise out of you when he was quickly running out of options to keep you close to him. You stayed quiet for a moment, one hand on your stomach, the other leaning on the mantle above the fire as if you were bracing yourself for the pain to follow.

“I just want the best for you. For our friendship and I…” your voice broke as you choked down the urge to sob.

“Yes, our precious friendship.” He sounded so vindictive that you wondered if he really cared about you at all.

“Do you not want it? Our friendship?” Your voice was so small and defeated.

“Oh, making me the bastard in this situation is just pathetic. After two hundred years of pure shit where I was always in the wrong and punished for it I don't want to hear it anymore!” He roared back at you. When he stood up you actually flinched, a fleeting thought crossed your mind that this was when he would ignore every warning and just drink you dry.

“I-” You tried to speak but you couldn't. All you wanted was to cry, just let it all out because the emotions were too much for you to carry anymore. The carnal desire you felt for him, the deep and earnest care you felt and the sense of responsibility for his well being. It always seemed that you were in control when really he held all the cards.

“Fucking hells.” Astarion muttered angrily before storming upstairs. You could finally sit back in your chair and cry.

Staring into the flames that usually brought you so much comfort but now, they just made you yearn for a life that was never lived. So long ago he said you were the only person he had ever truly cared about, that he would never hurt you and never leave your side. Those longing looks you'd steal when he'd laugh or the way you played into his flirting from the first day you met him. To this day you remembered nothing before the nautiloid, but, you knew Astarion. You knew he'd be there when you came home and would listen to your anxieties. He had always been in your life as far as you were concerned. So why had everything changed over something so ridiculous as the way you gave him your blood?

You pulled your knees up to your chest and sobbed, he wouldn't be there when you woke up and you knew it was all over. He's gone now, he's running away from your grasp and you'll never get him back no matter what you want from him- the voices in your head told you. You hit your forehead repeatedly trying to get them to shut up but they wouldn't subside. Why did you ever think he loved you? That he needed you for more than a pretty little snack? You wait around hoping he'll take more fucking interest in you when he wants nothing more than your beautiful blood. You should drain him of every drop in his body. It would serve him right, the decimation of a monster.

You wanted to scream. To pull out your brain and scrub out the voices, hurt yourself to a point where you would no longer care about what Astarion did to you. But how could any pain, any anguish overcome the love you felt for him? The Urge. The Urge was clawing it's way out of the depths of your psyche. How could it really be gone when it had penetrated every memory you currently held. You didn't know life without the torturous spasms and depraved thoughts. You thought they might end with the death of your butler but, no. The Urge was ever present.

The fire crackled and lit the shadows of the room, yet you couldn't feel its warmth as you sat cold and alone. He was your warmth, your sun, your stars. Whenever you spoke to him your day would be brighter and your head clearer. Seeing him would make you smile and make you feel safe. You cursed yourself, you should never have been so dependent.

He felt like shit. Utter shit. Why had he exploded like that? What was the point when you didn't do anything wrong, it was your neck he drank from and yet he felt some kind of authority? No, it was not his place nor his decision and he really did feel like the fucking idiot. As he was about to leave his room to apologise he heard it. The noise that haunted him whenever he heard it. Your sobs, that permeated into his soul and made his dead heart ache. He adored you so deeply that whenever it felt like you were pulling away he would double down on harshness. It made him feel in control of the situation because, if he was the first to leave then he won.

Astarion sat down quietly on the stairs. Wanting to wait till your sobs subsided but they seemed full of a sadness that would never subside. All you ever did was help him, try to find a way for him to walk in the sun, sate his bloodthirst and yet… sometimes in his irrational brain it felt like you were trying to find a way to fix him so you could leave. When he was broken you could fix him in a never ending loop. But as soon as he was put back together there was no reason for the two of you to exist together. He would never get to be close to you, never touch you or hear you laugh. But now, due to his own stupidity you would leave anyway but this time with hatred for him.

Just his luck that he would be turned into a monstrous vampire, be threatened with turning into a mindflayer but the true evil was always inside of him. It felt ridiculous when he pondered on it. He was so at home here with you, so comfortable and safe but it was never enough. The evil inside of him would always rise up and ruin everything around him.

He felt like such a fucking bastard to make you cry. Make you feel so lonely that you would feel the need to cry, which you rarely did. Once or twice in the many years you'd known one another he had held you as you cried. Whispered words of support and affirmation as he held you close, it was such a rarity that he reminisced on those moments more than he cared to admit. Being able to be a comfort to you was ridiculously cathartic for him.

For centuries he had been a death sentence to everyone he got close to. Cazadors favourite errand boy, collecting lost pretty souls for him to gorge his ascension depravity on. He would never overcome that guilt, not that he should- it was his cross to bear. But being your comfort, your home… it made it all less soul crushing. When Astarion was with you he felt worthy, like he had a purpose to be your protector when you were really his. He felt safe and respected and if he ruined that then maybe he deserved to step into the sun.

Deciding it would be better if he slipped away quietly he waited for your sobs to subside. Suspecting you were asleep he crept down the stairs and stayed to the back wall, hoping to avoid his shadow being plastered on the wall in front of you.

“Is this it then?” You said quietly and it surprised even Astarion that his hiding skills had become so lax of late.

“What?” Was all he could say, bewildered at why you would care if he would leave.

“Is this it? Are you leaving me?” You slowly stood up and faced him, your eyes still watering.

“I thought it might be easier if I left when I thought you were asleep. It appears my hiding deficiency needs some serious attention.” He tried to smile and make some joke to thinly veil his panic.

“Please. Don't, Astarion.” You took one step closer to him and he wasn't sure if you were referring to him leaving or the poorly timed joke. The silence continued into what felt like hours to him. Having no clue what the right response would be, he could only remain quiet and hope that you wouldn't tell him to leave.

“Do you want to leave?” You asked, looking down at the floor and trying to hide the very clear tears in your eyes.

“I- if it would be best for you then I will.” Astarion was teetering between each foot, one closer to you and the other closer to the door. Maybe if he left now it would all be less painful, he could learn to forget you. But if he stayed, what if you grew to hate him? He couldn't survive it.

“But do you want to leave?” You asked again, surprised by your pleading tone.

“I don't know.” Was all he said and it was enough for you to lose all hope, you wanted to cry until it hurt but it wasn't fair on him. If he wanted to leave then you shouldn't be restricting him.

“If this is the last time I ever see you, I'm sorry. I thought I was doing the best thing for our friendship because I couldn't remain your friend and-” You interrupted yourself, because it wasn't fair to practically guilt trip him.

“In all the time I have known you, you have only made decisions to better others. But, what do you want?” Astarion turned to fully face you, no longer edging towards the door.

All you wanted to say was that you wanted him. You just wanted him, in whatever form that would take it didn't matter as long as he stayed. You could remain friends, though you'd always crave more but, it was better than never seeing him again.

“I want,” you paused, pondering on a response that wouldn't send him running away into the night. “I want you to be happy.” Astarion looked at the floor and smiled.

“My ever generous confidante. That can't be the only thing you desire, the only thing that you want. My happiness is inconsequential compared to your own.” He wanted to reach out, show that you didn't have to worry about him. Prove that he could stand on his own without needing you but he wasn't so sure it was true. The constant insecurities he had were only amplified by the possibility that you would see his shortcomings and push him away.

“Inconsequential? How can you even consider that? I care about you more than myself sometimes and I don't see it as a weakness. We support one another, help one another and what is the point of any of this if I have to pretend that something matters more to me than your happiness? You have no idea how important you are, how loved.” You said it without thinking and the fear was evident in your eyes to Astarion as he had the same look on his own face.

As much as he wanted your adoration, your love? It absolutely terrified him. Was it all just bloodlust? Was he using you as some willing blood bag? If he stopped feeding on you at any point would it all fade away into nothingness and he'd realise none of it was love, it was his insatiable hunger? The silence between the two of you felt cursed, the one to break it would have to be a stronger man than he was because he was too scared to say a word. Rooted in place, not able to flee because of that look in your eyes. He couldn't leave whilst you looked so terrified, he had an urge to take you in his arms. But he didn't, he stayed in place

“Astarion?” You sounded terrified.

“Your life would be so much easier without me.” He sounded so genuinely exasperated, unable to understand why you would want him in your life. His eyes welled up and he looked so beautiful in the light of the fire and, you couldn't help but feel more drawn to him.

“And?” You replied, more determined than ever to prove how you cared for him.

“That's all you have to say?” He asked and you nodded, it elicited a laugh from him that sounded hollow and yet relieved.

“You make my life better. It feels enriched and happy, you are the only person who calms me and comforts me. The only one I am completely comfortable with, the only one I want to be around this much.” you held one of his hands tentatively.

“You’re shaking, darling.” Astarion softly told you, leading you to your armchair and sitting you down.

“If your only reason is that it is better for me, please stay. I want you to stay here with me and we can carry on as we always have and-” he stopped you mid sentence putting a hand up.

“I don't think we can continue as we always have my darling.” He let out a sigh and you dug your nails into the arm of the chair.

“Then…what do we do?” You asked, still feeling like you were shaking and feeling even more pathetic by the minute.

“I mean, I don't know how any of this works, what comes next or what you exactly want from me.” whilst he couldn't reach your gaze he didn't seem upset.

“Well what do you want from me?” Your voice was strained and anxious, you were so completely convinced he would tell you that he wanted space from you.

“More, more than this. I don't… how the hells do you do all of this?” He sounded a mixture of happy and confused.

“Slowly. If that's what you want, it's not exactly that much of a transition from how we were. Less longing glances and more actual contact I suppose? I haven't ever had a companionship. Well, if I have it's before I lost my memory so this is… intimidating.” Your eyes flicked from the floor to Astarions anxiously.

“I don't remember ever having it either. We really are the weirdos of our odd little group aren't we. Even La'zel has probably had a companion. Losing to La'zel when it comes to romance is not something I plan on continuing.” Astarion held your hand tighter, looking up into your eyes.

“I care about you, so much.” You placed a hand on his cheek and he leant into it.

“Stop being so nice to me. Makes me feel like a good person. Ugh.” Astarion mocked disgust but you knew he loved the praise.

“Only leave me if you want to. Will you promise me that?” your thumb stroked across his cheek and you saw a single tear fall across your hand.

“Darling, I will never want to leave you, and the fact that you willingly give me a choice makes it clearer that I want to stay with you.” Astarion pulled your hand up to his face and kissed the back of it before hugging you around your stomach. Leaning his head on your lap. You finally relaxed and stopped shaking, stroking his hair in the firelight, you both existed in perfect happiness.

[al9ayf]

Could I request headcanons for Gale, Wyll, Halsin, and Astarion finding out their f!s/o has suicidal thoughts please?

hi thank you for requesting again ❤️ also sorry for the late post, i have a lot of family events and weddings lolz. also while writing this i couldn’t help but do ascended astarion as well 😭

ᥫ᭡ suicidal thoughts | astarion, gale, halsin, wyll

｡˚ explicit content :: thoughts of suicide ofc, attempted suicide, mentions of abuse

ʚ astarion:

spawn:

he first found out the night you had sex with him at the tiefling party. astarion was different back then. he thought you a fool first for letting him take you under the stars, and now an even bigger one for confiding such dark thoughts to him. the two of you barely knew each other, so he did not care about how you were feeling

and then as the journey went on and he found himself risking his life for you on more than one occasion, he tried to deny his feelings. but you were so magnetic, and all of a sudden the nights felt lonely without you by his side

after proclaiming how much he cares for you and wants this relationship to go further, he invited you to spend the night with him in his tent. now the nights didn’t feel lonely anymore as you slept beside him

finally after reaching baldur’s gate and killing cazador, astarion invited you to visit his grave. the evening was peaceful as he said goodbye to an elf and hello to a new beginning as a vampire. he wanted the night to go on a little further but watched as a sour expression formed on your face as you declined the invitation to have sex with him. you would rather go to bed

the next few nights you were distant. astarion did not understand why until he finally got fed up and asked if you were mad at him. he could see the tears rolling down your cheeks as you confessed to him that you wanted to break up. it wasn’t him, you added, it was you

yet the breakup did not make things easier for you, it instead made it worse. he sees you go off to bed without a dinner and wounded arms. you do not speak to anybody. you are the leader of this group and yet you are silent during the job so astarion often is the one guiding the party around the city and making the decisions

the night after killing orin, he decided to stay awake and watch the camp. he was an elf for he did not need any sleep, but he saw you sneak away from your tent with a bottle in your hand. astarion decided to follow you to the river. he made sure to stay silent and at a safe distance, and once you got to a familiar spot, you sat down on the sand and started crying

you drank the whole bottle as fast as you could and then smashed it into the ground. you stood up and headed for the river with open arms, anticipating the cold waters. astarion stopped you before you could take another step

“what are you doing?!” he yelled, grabbing you. “you do not know how to swim, you idiot!”

you confessed to him that you were doing it on purpose. that you had no will left to live. fuck this tadpole and save faerûn. fuck everything in this world. you were hoping that he would hate you when you broke up with him so your death wouldn’t be that upsetting. the gods have not once given you a blessing in life, and now they have doomed you to the hells

astarion tells you that the two of you have been through everything together. have you not once loved him? have you not thought of him as a blessing? because you are everything to him, and losing you meant losing himself all over again. he wants to help you get through this even though it might be the toughest thing to do. at least he is with you

you expect him to make a joke but he doesn’t. you cry in his arms and hug him tightly, appreciating his kind words

ascended:

after completing the ritual, astarion completely changed. it threw you off more than you wanted it to and hoped that it was just a temporary effect of gaining so much power

but after saving baldur’s gate and all of faerûn from the grand design, and after moving in with astarion into his new palace, he never changed. it instead grew worse

months of his abuse and controlling behavior went by. you were not allowed to be who you are anymore. everything you knew had been stripped away from you, and now the man who you once thought saved you from wanting to end it all made those thoughts reappear again

you sat at your vanity crying as a servant did your hair for the ball happening that night. astarion entered the bedroom and told the servant to leave. he forced you to stand up and look at him, and you recoiled when he touched your chin

“is something the matter, my darling?”

you told him without being able to look him in the eyes. you told him you wanted to die. you hated him and would rather kill yourself than have him touch you. you cry and cry as you spill your broken heart out onto the floor, but astarion only laughs and tells you that you will do no such thing. you are a vampire now, living eternally with him. he will not allow you to end your own life

after all, you are his dear consort

ʚ gale:

gale always found it interesting how the light in your eyes always shifted. you were always thinking about something, whether good things or not. he never pried too much into it because he respected your privacy as much as you respected his. but he has poured his heart out many times to you, yet you always seemed closed off. he felt he knew so much about you, yet nothing at all

you have always thrown yourself into the toughest of battles without any thought. shadowheart always spent the most time healing you because of your rash decisions. it was like you were not scared of the danger, yet somehow you lived through it each time

gale asked you about it and you told him a simple answer: you hated evil. you would sacrifice your life to save faerûn. it was your home. he thought you brave, but again saw that shift of light in your eyes disappear. he asked what was wrong immediately, and you hesitantly admitted to him that life had not been so kind to you until you met him. and although this journey to baldur’s gate has been rough and helps take your mind off things, the past still haunts you. gale asks what haunts you, and you only kiss him goodnight

after arriving at baldur’s gate, gale takes you to a nice clearing in the woods to have a little alone time. you watched his small magic shows and the stars, but as time passed on and your laughter died down, there gale saw a sad girl

“whatever troubles you, we can get through it together. i promise you…”

and then you broke down in tears. you confessed to gale that a curse has been bestowed upon you ever since you were a young child. the date of your death grows near, and in one year you will take your final breath and lay to rest forever. you have known this your whole life and each year has not made it easier. you do not care if you die. you would meet death soon anyway. and every day you imagine what a sweet death tastes like if you were not met with the sharp side of the blade

gale pulled you into a hug and held you close. he did not know what to say. it was a horrible curse—a terrible one. he promises you that he will help you escape this fate. look at how far you have gotten in this journey in such a short amount of time. preventing your death is a small hurdle you both can jump over. he is determined to help you

ʚ halsin:

halsin has been the first druid for as long as you can remember. he was your idol, your guide, and your closest friend. admittedly, you wanted it to be more. you have loved halsin for years. all you wished for was to be by his side until the sun rose in the west and set in the east. but you were too afraid to admit your feelings for him. you thought yourself unfitting

after learning about the news of him getting captured by the goblins, you reassured yourself that he has not been killed. halsin was smart and the grove flourishes because of him. you would know when something bad had happened. you would be able to feel it in the earth. no flowers have died yet, and so you prayed to the oak father to keep your archdruid alive

though kagha never liked you. she thought of you as too naive and young. you did not know the ways of the oak father, in her mind. you were just a burden and halsin only allowed you to stay because he was too merciful. and now that she was acting as a first druid, it was taking everything within you to convince her to let you stay. but she cast you out without a second thought, banned from all groves of silvanus

you left the grove with a heart so heavy you had to drag yourself. you decided to go west to baldur’s gate, hoping to find a place there. but then you stumbled upon the shadowlands, the very place halsin had told you many stories about. you had only a torch with you and prayers, yet that did not last very long. you ran through the dark hoping to find a safe place to hide, and you found an abandoned home with a door and windows still intact

you hid there for the next few days. the shadows grew thicker in some areas, and you had to hide yourself many times from passing cult members of the absolute. your stomach growled and your mouth grew dry. each day was agonizing, and on the third, with one last drop of water, you prayed to the oak father that somebody would kill you. to take you out of your misery. you have been banished from all groves and lost halsin. why bother going on?

you awoke to somebody jolting you awake. your eyes were too heavy to keep open, yet a familiar voice kept yelling your name. you managed to mutter a weak “leave me” before falling back asleep. you wake up again to find yourself getting carried to a light in a pair of strong arms. one last time, you woke up in a comfortable bed with light surrounding you. a cup of water was laid out beside you, and you reached over to drink it. the woman beside you took your glass and left to fill it up some more

you sat up in bed, wondering who saved you and why. you were ready to embrace the oak father. they have wasted their time and resources on you. you have no will to live on anymore

then halsin entered the room with the woman. you cried when you saw him, and he quickly hugged you. he kissed the top of your head and called you his sweet girl, and it eased the sorrow in your heart

he told you he had found you while looking for supplies with his companions and was shocked to find you here in the shadowlands. you told him that after he had left you were in such disarray, and kagha had then exiled you leaving you to fend for yourself. then you found yourself in the shadowlands ready to die. you could not live without him or the grove. he was all you wanted and needed

he kissed you again, this time on the lips to soothe you. you gripped onto him tightly, still crying

“oak father preserve you, child. still, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. you are mine and nature’s until that changes. i understand why you would think such hurtful thoughts, but i am here now, and we will make things right again. you will never have to face such fear again. you will never be on death’s door again. for now i have come back to you, and will protect you until the sun rises in the west…”

you kiss halsin one more time

ʚ wyll:

you have known wyll ever since you were children. although he was noble-born and you were just helping your father around the grand manor he lived in, you both became great friends

your father and wyll’s father joked to each other that you both would end up married in the near future. it was obvious how much you loved each other. and once you both reached the age of 17, you started dating

but that is when wyll was exiled from baldur’s gate for reasons unknown to you. around the same time wyll left, your father had been murdered and a funeral procession was on the way. ulder took you in as his own and grieved with you. you loved your father dearly even though he was secretly a part of the cult of the dragon. evil, yes, but he was the only family you had

after years passed and you heard no news from wyll, gortash was going to be named the archduke of baldur’s gate. you attended the ceremony with ulder who acted weirdly, but you tried to think nothing of it. you spotted wyll entering the room with devil horns and stopping the ceremony, along with a few other companions. you almost cried if it weren’t for the shock running through your body

after the ceremony, you ran to wyll and embraced him. you loved him dearly so and headed back to his camp to learn of everything that had happened. there, he told you everything. from the day his father left for elturel to this moment. yet your mind was fuzzy at the beginning of his story

wyll had unknowingly killed your father during the battle. and it tore you apart

immediately you excused yourself from the camp and headed back home. for days you threw up and ripped your hair. the love of your life had killed your father and sold his soul to the devil. he felt like a different man and yet he was still the same. you loved your father though, so, so much. and wyll killed him

you never talked to wyll again. you stopped eating and kept yourself in your bedroom. and after baldur’s gate had been saved from the mind flayers and wyll returned home, you refused to see him. you would rather die than speak to him

yet he managed to get you at a perfect time. he locked you in your bedroom with him in front of the door, forcing you to finally face him. you cried and you screamed, telling him how much you wanted to kill yourself to meet your father again. the father he took from you. you would rather die than speak to the devil

wyll retaliated though. he understood how much grief you were going through but he made the right choice

“you must understand me, my love! i loved your father like he was my own. but if you were to have heard the roaring thunder and seen a head of tiamat, you too would have wanted to stop it. i did what was right and you know that. i beg of you to understand my situation. your father was an evil man, and yes he loved you so much, but he was willing to bring back dragons than see his own daughter alive and well in faerûn.”

wyll professed his love to you and told you that he will help you get through this grief and suffering. you had endured it for long enough. you broke down in tears and cried on your bed. his words were both comforting and not. the thought of your father not loving you enough made you want to meet him in whatever realm he was in and beat the shit out of him. but as wyll rubbed your back soothingly, you decided that living for the only family you had left was what was right

criticism is appreciated <3

[cheekylittlepupp]

You all know A Astarion's epilogue outfit, but have you ever wondered whether it's bats or dragons? Me and @egooppidum were wondering that today and we came to the conclusion that it's 100% dragons. The symbolism is SUPERB. Hats off to Larian for this.

Brace yourselves this might be a bit long ~

"Red dragons are covetous, evil creatures, interested only in their own well-being, vanity and the extension of their treasure hoards. They are supremely confident of their own abilities."

"Rarely, red dragons would adopt a protective yet patronizing manner towards creatures they saw as inferior that lived within their self-imposed borders" - Oh you precious dark consort, how lucky you are to have the greatest vampire lord as your master, for him to bless you with his eternal gift, turn you into his spawn, his right hand.

"Red dragons believed that if a being was not strong enough to protect what it had, then it did not deserve to keep it. This applied not just to treasure, but to life. They despised weakness among their own kind." Literally ANY line from him when he talks about his former 'weak and pathetic self'.

Him being obssessed with power and how that's the only important thing in this world. This would be huge if I added all of those lines tbh.

"Red dragons were known for their swift and fiery tempers—if angered, they would explode into a destructive rage and become even more impulsive and vengeful" - Practically his entire dialogue when you break up with him after the ascension or declining to become his spawn. Even subtly threatening you

"Such rages were in part due to their fragile pride and feeling that any loss, insult, or defeat meant a loss of status if not addressed—causing chaos and destruction assuaged wounded pride and mitigated lost status" - He sees himself as the best version of himself right now and the fact that you reject him, in any kind of way wounds him greatly. This is why he starts hurling insults at you, to hurt you back, to try and cover up the fact that you just shattered his ego

"They were the most avaricious and were constantly looking to expand their hoards with treasure, they were the most obsessive collectors." Recall how he calls you his treasure and how you’ll be together forever, he will have you forever. He is in fact obsessed with wealth. He would also like to sequester you in a deep chamber in his lair, I mean palace and keep you all to himself.

"They would also boast about their magnificent hoards." Him at the epilogue party. ESPECIALLY in the non romanced version.

"Preferring their own company and engaging with others only when it had purpose, they were solitary creatures and cared little for news of other types of dragons, though they did look for news of other red dragons in their area and of affairs in the world in general. They used other charmed creatures as messengers, informants, and spies to bring them information"

"And of course they were recognized by their scarlet and crimson scaled hides" self explanatory really ~

"The vanity of red dragons was often revealed in their prideful postures and the looks of disdain with which they regarded all others"

"To have is nothing, to keep is all."

"In fact, in many ways, they were most like hoursecats" I had to add this, it's too funny

Okay I'm stopping here because This will be massive if I don't shut up. We can replace "red dragons" with Astarion and it would fit perfectly. I'm leaving you guys the link for the red dragon wiki, have fun with it ~

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Red_dragon

[dark-and-kawaii]

─ ⊹ ⊱ Heart's Delight ⊰ ⊹ ─

Summary: What happens when Mephistopheles comes knocking at Raphael's door and is greeted by a little mouse? Well, surely nothing delightful. In the eerie silence of The House Hope, you lay broken and bloodied, your child stripped away…

♡ Pairing: Raphael x F!Tav/Reader - Slight Haarlep x F!Tav/Reader

♡ Content: Dadphael - Implied noncon - Hurt/Comfort - Soft Raphael - Angst

The House of Hope stood eerily silent, its grand halls echoing with an unsettling stillness. The souls that usually paraded about now cowered in corners in fear as the candles flickers danced along the walls.

In one of these dimly lit corridors, a figure lay crumpled on the cold stone floor, your breath shallow and ragged. 

It was Haarlep who first stumbled upon you. His brow arched as he watches how you lay brutalized and broken. Your clothes torn, stained with your own blood, a pool of it forming around you. Your inner thighs were coated in your fluids, and from the looks of it another milky white delightful looking substance... That already beautiful face of yours was now painted with blood, saliva and your tears. Those lips he tasted so many times now split and swollen from another other than either him or Raphael…

The creature might have relished in the sight more, drinking up how utterly pitiful you looked, if it wasn't for the fact that you were barely clinging to life… 

He could feel it. The moment slipping away from you as the seconds passed. His usual smirk was replaced by a look of genuine concern as he knelt beside you… These marks -his fingers traced the bruises, the marks that marred your flesh- were they…?

A sound, something like a pained groan, escaped your lips as his fingers brushed over a particularly deep gash in your arm.

“My my, aren’t you in a sorry state.” Haarlep murmured, his voice soft yet tinged with an edge of humor that never quite left him. Carefully, he gathered you into his arms, careful not to aggravate your wounds further. As he carried you towards the healing bath, his sharps eyes had caught the absence of a certain babe- his eyes narrowing in the direction of the crib. 

The little pup, yours and Raphael’s infant was no longer there.

Haarlep’s brow remained arched as his eyes fell back down to the bite wounds that riddled your body… He moved his tail to help keep you propped in his arms as his hand left you to graze a scar that decorated his collar bone.

Ah. Now he knew why those bites looked so familiar.

His grip tightened around you…

Mephistopheles. 

All the pain, all the suffering he had endured at the hands of the archdevil was suddenly brought to the forefront of his mind. For a moment, he could almost feel himself being held down, feeling the fangs and claws sink into his flesh…

It wasn't just the memory of pain that plagued the creature's mind. Haarlep looked down at you, his eyes filled- mixed with something like pity, sadness, and amusement. He had a feeling he knew what the Devil was going to do with the child... “what a pity~” he murmured, “And to think, I had wanted to make a meal out of you both~”

His words, while teasing, were not lost on you. You whimpered softly as he carried you away, your heart sinking as you felt Haarlep carrying you further and further away from where your child slept not long ago. Your eyes, glazed with pain and exhaustion, flickered briefly in the direction of the empty cradle before falling back to the floor. Even though you were too weak to struggle, your hand twitched and curled against Haarlep's chest as he cradled you…

As the incubus reached the healing bath, he stepped inch by inch into the warm water. A low hiss escaping your lips, your body tensing as the water burned against your open wounds.

“I know.” He hummed, his voice low and soft, “But the burn feels so delicious does it not, my dove~? It reminds me of the first time we played together~” His hand, which was wrapped around your back, trailed slowly down your spine while lowering you into the bath. The water rose quickly, swallowing you, and stinging every cut, gash, and bruise. 

Your body shuddered, but you were far too weak to try and escape it, “H-haarlep…”

Haarlep smirked, a chuckle vibrating through him, “Oh, don't tell me you are already begging~” he mused, a single claw tracing up the line of your jaw.

A faint, barely perceptible smirk graced your lips as your eyes finally shut, succumbing to exhaustion... Your daughter is the last thing on your mind before the darkness takes…

The waters healing kiss washing over you, knitting your wounds together, soothing your pains as you sat in Haarlep's lap. 

“Sleep, my dove.” The incubus said, a small smile spreading across his lips before pressing a tender kiss no one would have ever expected to come from him to your forehead. 

When Raphael emerged, the air crackled with ash and swirling embers, as if two ancient dragons had clashed in a furious storm. His wings spread wide, and he stood with a clenched fist... His face, filled with a punishing rage Haarlep had yet to ever see. 

“Where... Is she!!” The cambion snapped, the words hissed through clenched teeth. 

Ever the provocateur, Haarlep let the question linger in the air. One of his eyebrows crept upwards in amusement as he watched Raphael, who was so desperate to know where you- or daughter was. Twisting his body, Haarlep revealed you, stroking your hair, “It's a good thing I found her when I did~ Otherwise, she would have ble-”

“You insufferable creature!” Raphael’s brow furrowing deeply, “Do not dare toy with me! Where is my daughter” The underlying fury in his voice was barely contained, betrayed only by the tightening of his jaw.

The incubus chuckled, his fingers running through your hair as his free hand reached down into the bath, gently pulling your ragged gown up. The silky fabric floated above your thighs, revealing the unhealed bites and claw marks that littered your flesh, “It would seem your dear old father decided to come knocking on your door, and your little mouse was the one to greet him.” He smirked, his hand sliding over the curve of your thigh, “I can only imagine what came of your little pup-”

Raphael's ears were deaf to the creature's words. His eyes focused only on you and the way your body hung limp in Haarlep's lap. The way you looked so fragile and frail, like a moth's wing. And your heart's delight, yours and his daughter stripped away... 

His jaw clenched, his hand lifting to his face, his fingers ready to snap,  “No…” he growled, his eyes flashing as he snapped and vanished, leaving nothing but the smell of burning ash.

Time passed slowly, but when he returned, Haarlep saw how Raphael's back was turned, his wings drawn tightly around him. His head bowed low as his on e slick back hair now framed his face in disarray, those opulent clothes he wore now mirrored yours, his body sharing similar wounds as the ones you had worn hours ago.

He moved to where you now lay, your body surrounded by the warmth of his satin sheets. Raphael could see how your face was stained with freshly shed tears, and even though Haarlep had taken the utmost care with you, you had yet to wake. Gently, he placed his infant into your arms and watched as you subconsciously pulled her close. Your lips curling into a soft, content smile as your daughter nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

Haarlep watched from the small couch near his master's bed, one eye opened, curious at how the half breed Raphael managed to hold his daughter once more... “What did he want with the little p-”

Raphael looked up at Haarlep, an unspoken warning in his eyes. 

... “-The little bundle of joy.”

The cambion settled into a chair across from the bed, snapping his fingers to summon a bottle of his finest wine and a glass. As he poured, his eyes opened slowly, the fires within them banked but not extinguished, “A bargaining chip,” he said, taking a sip from his glass.

Haarlep chuckled, a quick retort on his lips, “Well, you should have left the little tyke-”

“Do not push your luck, incubus.” Raphael growled, his tone low and dangerous.

“...- Do tell me though~ What sort of contract did your dear father want to make? Surely it was something tasty~ Considering how you look like that little mouse of yours when i found her~”

Raphael's eyes narrowed as his hand clenched the glass, a hair away from shattering it…

“Ah~ But silence speaks volumes, doesn't it?” Haarlep mused, swirling his fingers around the couches fabric, “The way your hand trembles, the fire in your eyes ever so slowly extinguishing~ You have lost something. Something important...~”

Raphael said nothing, every muscle in his body tightening, a silent testament to the fact that the incubus' words rang true. Instead, he stood up and slowly removed his stained clothing. His eyes flickering to the bed, and then back to his smug sex toy, “You have a job.” He said, his voice flat, emotionless, “You are to remain by their side every waking moment that I am absent. Is that understood?" As he moved to your side, his hands grazed over the unhealed bite marks Mephistopheles left on your skin.

Haarlep could see Raphael's body tense as his eyes swept over the damage done, how the healing pool couldn't quite heal everything... Nor take away the touch of Mephistopheles… “Now leave.” Raphael commanded before crawling in beside you and his daughter, his body and wings curling around yours protectively…

“And incubus…”

“Hm~?”

“Should you disappoint me, I will ensure that your very soul and all your innards are dispersed throughout the most desolate reaches of the hells.”

The subtle shift in the air hinted something far more sinister than mere words could convey. Whatever contract Raphael had signed, it was a dark pact, one that bound him to an unwritten fate,  one that loomed over him like a specter.

[bloodlust-1]

Are you still taking requests? I literally cannot control myself when it comes to angst so I was thinking of a fic where Tav gets kidnapped by Cazadors spawns and is getting tortured by him, so Astarion goes crazy with worry and anger trying to get them back

Like I said i am insatiable when it comes to angst

The dramaaaaa.... LET'S DO THISS SHITT. I do love me some angst too :')

Hope you enjoy @blades-are-for-skating-ya-dingus <3

. Shackles .

Astarion x fem Tav — angst

T/W: abuse, blood

Notes: I’m so proud of this one ahh. This makes me hate Cazador even more.

Tav's body trembled as the shackles dug into her wrists, her bare skin exposed to the cold, damp air of the dungeon. She had been captured by Cazador one night by his spawns. Tav never returned back to camp that night, and the only thing that was left for Astarion was a note he found on a spawn:

-------

"My Dear spawn, how dare you to run away from me. Know that there will be consequences for your actions, and your lover will not be spared from my wrath. You will regret ever crossing me, my child."

-------

Her wrists were bound by heavy shackles, chains attached to the wall, preventing her from moving more than a few inches. The sharp metal dug into her skin, causing her to wince in pain every time she struggled against them. Her body was covered in bruises, cuts, and burns, the result of Cazador's ruthless torture techniques.

Cazador stood in front of Tav, a wicked grin on his face. He held a whip in his hand, the same one he had used to lash Tav's back until it bled. She could barely lift her head to look at him, her body exhausted and broken.

"Pathetic," Cazador sneered, his eyes filled with malice. "You thought you could hide from me? A mere mortal challenging a vampire? How foolish."

Cazador stood in front of her, his face twisted into a sadistic grin. "You think your lover, Astarion, will save you from me? He will help me ascend and be nothing more than dirt on the floor. And soon, you will be too. Tell me where is the boy."

Tav's heart sank at the mention of Astarion's name. All Tav wanted was to trade with a merchant to gift Astarion a better dagger. But now, here she was, captured and tortured.

"Never," Tav spat, defiant even in the face of her tormentor.

Cazador's grin widened. "We'll see about that, my dear. We have ways of making you talk."

He signaled to his spawn, Petras, and he poked at Tav's skin with a hot metal rod. She cried out in pain, her body bruised and bloodied. But she refused to say any information.

"You will never have Astarion again," Tav gasped, her voice weak from the beatings.

Cazador's smile turned into a scowl, and he grabbed Tav's chin roughly, forcing her face to meet his. "You wretched thing."

Cazador motioned for Petras to stop as he approached Tav, snatching the hot iron rod from Petras’s hand. Tav's eyes widened in terror as she realized what he was about to do.

"Please, no," she begged, tears streaming down her face.

But Cazador didn't listen. He pressed the hot iron against Tav's skin, causing her to scream in agony. The smell of burning flesh filled the dungeon.

"I will make you suffer until you give me what I want," Cazador growled, enjoying every moment of Tav's pain.

Tav's body shook with sobs as the torture continued. She thought of Astarion, their love, and their plans for the future. She refused to let Cazador break her, even if it meant her death.

"I said no, you bastard!," Tav cried, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Cazador continued to torture her, and Tav's thoughts became consumed with memories of Astarion. The way he looked at her with love, the cold touch of his lips on hers.

"I love you, Astarion," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

But as the darkness of the dungeon consumed her, Tav feared she'd never see Astarion again.

~

Astarion's heart raced as he crept through the dark and musty corridors of the dungeon. His mind clashed between anger and guilt. Astarion feared that Tav was somewhere within these walls, shackled and tortured by Cazador.

When Astarion reached Tav's cell, he caught sight of her. Tav's face was pale and bruised. She was shirtless and barely conscious.

But even in this state, Tav was still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

His hands trembled as he quickly picked the lock, and with a loud click, the chains that bound Tav fell to the ground, and Astarion's heart swelled with relief and anger. He scooped her up in his arms, ignoring Tav's cries of pain from the bruises and cuts covering her body.

"Shh, my love. It's me," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I've come to take you away from this place."

Tav's tear-stained face looked up at him, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Astarion? How did you find me?"

Astarion fixated his eyes on Tav's face, the sight of her hurt gaze ached his dead heart. "I will always find you, no matter where they try to hide you." He pulled the shirt off his back and covered Tav's bare chest.

Carefully, Astarion carried Tav out of the dungeon, making sure to avoid any spawns or traps along the way. It was especially hard when Tav winced to every movement.

Astarion stealth his way out of the palace and went back to camp. He felt anger gnawing at his chest. He should have been there to protect Tav, But he had failed, and now Tav had suffered because of his shortcomings.

When they got back to camp, their companions rushed to their side, relieved to see Tav alive. Shadowheart, Wyll, Gale, and Karlach swarmed around Astarion.

"Get out of the way! She needs to rest!" Astarion snapped in a fit of anger. His emotions were pouring out in the worst possible way, and whoever was in the way needed to move.

Astarion gently settled Tav onto his bed, frowning at the sight of her bruised and battered body. She winced in pain as he placed her down, but he quickly reassured her, "I'll take care of you."

He grabbed a small bucket of water and a cloth, carefully cleaning the dried blood and dirt from her skin. Tav winced again, tears streaming down her face as he touched her injuries.

Gods this is all my fault. Astarion gritted his teeth from the sting of remorse.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I promise, I won't let anyone hurt you like this again."

Cazador will pay for this.

Tav weakly reached out to wipe away the tears that had fallen from his eyes, a small smile tugged on her chipped lips. "Don't cry, Astarion. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her stubbornness, even in her injured state. "Your wit amazes me, my dear."

Astarion continued to clean and tend to her wounds, his hands gentle and careful than anything he'd ever touched in the past 200 years. Tav winced and hissed in pain, but she never once pulled away. She simply gripped his hand tightly as he worked, her eyes shut tightly.

Tav winced as he tended to a particularly deep cut on her arm. "It hurts," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

"I know, my dear," Astarion's eyes narrowed at her pain. "But I promise, I'll make it better."

After what seemed like hours, Astarion finally finished and leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. "There, all done."

Tav slowly opened her eyes and looked down at her now clean and bandaged skin. "Thank you..." The burn marks would scar her skin forever. It was something Tav looked past for her own sake.

"You are strong," he continued, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "And I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe from Cazador."

Tav reached up and cupped his cheek, she whispered. "I trust you.."

Astarion leaned down and pressed his lips against Tav's, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss. Tav pushed against his lips gently, while his hands held Tav's shoulders. When they pulled away Tav could see the desperation in his eyes and it was heartbreaking.

"Rest now, my dear. I'll be here when you wake up." And with that, Astarion stayed by Tav's side, watching over her as she drifted off to sleep.

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

[moonselune]

Hey! Big fan of your work, would you ever do a hurt / comfort fic or snippet for the BG3 boys (rolan included maybe?) for durge after receiving the information / memories of what happened with Kressa Bonedaughter?

https://x.com/bhaalsprincess/status/1806146510930792898?s=46

sorry idk if the link works :(

For this we are going to pretend that Rolan is part of your party, also I realised after I got half way through that I wrote it as the boys hurt/comfort rather than durge hurt/comfort 😅 Hope you still like it tho <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

Kressa Bonedaughter’s voice resonates in your mind like a chill wind cutting through the remnants of the day’s warmth. You remember her eyes glinting with unsettling affection as she recounted the memories of your shared past.

That night, you sit by the campfire, the flames casting dancing shadows around you. The others have retired, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The crackling of the fire is a comforting, familiar sound, but it does little to ease the strange unease that Kressa’s words have stirred within you.

Gale approaches, his footsteps soft on the grass. He sits beside you, his presence a steady, comforting weight. For a while, he says nothing, simply watching the flames. Then, he turns to you, and you see the tears glistening in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me it was bothering you?" he asks, his voice choked with emotion.

You look at him, surprised. "Gale, I told you, I don't remember any of it. It doesn't bother me."

"But it bothers me," he says, the tears spilling over. "The thought of what you went through… what she did to you… It tears me apart inside."

You reach out, taking his hand in yours. "Gale, it's in the past. I survived. I'm here now, with you. That’s all that matters."

He shakes his head, his grip tightening around your hand. "No, it's not that simple. The pain, the suffering—you shouldn't have had to endure any of it. And the fact that you don't remember… It scares me. What else might be lurking in your past? What other horrors did you endure?"

His tears fall freely now, and seeing him like this, so vulnerable, breaks something inside you. You pull him into your arms, holding him tightly as he cries against your shoulder.

"It's alright," you whisper, your own voice trembling. "I'm alright. You don't have to cry for me."

"I can't help it," he murmurs, his words muffled against your shoulder. "I love you, and the thought of you in pain… It hurts so much."

You hold him close, rocking slightly, the fire crackling softly beside you. The weight of his emotions, the depth of his love—it grounds you in a way you hadn't realized you needed.

"I'm here now," you say again, more firmly this time. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His tears have left tracks down his cheeks, and his eyes are red, but there's a fierce determination in his gaze.

"I know," he says, his voice steadier now. "But promise me something. If you ever remember… if those memories ever come back… don't face them alone. Come to me. Let me help you."

You nod, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to refuse. "I promise."

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, and for a moment, the world feels right again. As you sit by the fire, holding each other, you feel a sense of peace. The past may be dark and filled with pain, but the present, with Gale’s love, it shines brightly enough to keep the shadows at bay.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

You return to camp, your body exhausted but your mind buzzing with fragments of memories and emotions, stirred up by the wicked Kressa's words. As you approach the campfire, you see Astarion pacing around it, his movements agitated and furious. His usually composed demeanor is shattered, replaced by a storm of emotions. He looks up as you approach, his eyes blazing with anger.

"How dare she," he spits, his voice trembling with rage. "How dare she do that to you!"

You raise an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Astarion, I don't even remember it. It's like hearing a story about someone else."

His fury only intensifies at your nonchalance. "A story about someone else?" he repeats incredulously. "It was you! She tortured you and you act like it doesn't matter!"

You can’t help but be amused by his passion, which only serves to infuriate him further. "Astarion, it's in the past. I can't remember it, so it doesn't affect me."

He stops pacing and steps closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "It affects me," he says through gritted teeth. "The thought of you suffering like that… it's unbearable. I wish I could kill her all over again, make her pay for every moment of pain she put you through."

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. "But she's gone, Astarion. We defeated her. It's over."

His muscles are tense under your touch, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You don't get it," he says, his voice softer but still filled with anger. "I care about you. I can’t just brush it off like you can."

You squeeze his arm gently, feeling the tension slowly ebbing away. "I know you care," you say, your voice gentle. "And I appreciate it more than you know. But right now, what I need is to focus on the present, on what we can control."

He looks into your eyes, his anger giving way to concern. "And what if those memories come back? What if you start to remember everything she did to you?"

You take a deep breath, the possibility of those memories surfacing a distant, unsettling thought. "If they do, then I’ll deal with it. And I’ll have you by my side to help me through it."

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his earlier anger dissolving into a protective, fierce love. "Always," he murmurs into your hair. "I’ll always be here for you."

You hold him close, the warmth of his body grounding you. "Thank you, Astarion. For caring so much."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. "You deserve to be cared for," he says firmly. "You deserve to be protected from monsters like her."

You smile, touched by his words and the depth of his feelings. "And you deserve to find peace, too. We both do."

"Yes," He nods, his expression softening. "Yes, we do."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Kressa Bonedaughter’s words echo in your mind long after the battle has ended. Her disturbing attachment to you, the tales of relentless experiments, and her twisted pride in your resilience—these are things you can’t fully grasp due to the dark void where your memories should be. But now, she lies defeated at your feet, her body a testament to the horrors she wrought.

As you take a moment to catch your breath, you notice Wyll standing over her body. His face is a mask of rage, and his sword rises and falls in a relentless, brutal rhythm. He’s attacking her lifeless form with a fury that is both shocking and heartbreaking.

“Wyll,” you call out, your voice tinged with concern. “She’s dead. It’s over.”

But he doesn’t seem to hear you. His strikes continue, each one more forceful than the last, as if he’s trying to obliterate every trace of her existence. The sound of metal against flesh and bone is sickening, and you can see the wild, almost desperate look in his eyes.

You step closer, your voice firmer. “Wyll, stop. She’s dead!”

Still, he doesn’t respond. It’s as if he’s in a trance, lost in his own world of vengeance and pain. You can’t stand to see him like this, consumed by a rage that threatens to devour him whole. Summoning your strength, you reach out and grab his arm, pulling him back.

“Wyll, look at me!” you shout, your voice cutting through the haze of his fury.

He finally stops, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes are wild, filled with a mix of rage and sorrow. He looks down at Kressa’s mutilated body, then back at you, as if seeing you for the first time.

“She’s dead,” you repeat softly. “It’s over.”

He shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. “It will never be over. Not after what she did to you.”

You feel a pang of guilt and sorrow. “I don’t remember, Wyll. Whatever she did, it’s gone from my mind.”

“That doesn’t change what happened,” he says, his voice breaking. “It doesn’t change the fact that she tortured you, experimented on you like you were nothing. And you don’t even remember…”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to reach him. “I know it’s horrible, but killing her over and over again won’t change the past. We need to move forward. We need to find your father."

He drops his sword, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I just… I can’t let it go. The thought of you suffering like that… it’s too much.”

You step closer, placing a hand on his arm. “We all carry our burdens, Wyll. But we have to find a way to live with them, not let them destroy us.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, sadness, and something softer—concern, perhaps, or even love. “You’re stronger than you know,” he says quietly. “Stronger than any of us. But I can’t help but feel that you shouldn’t have had to be.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “Thank you, Wyll. For caring so much. But we have to keep moving forward. Together.”

He nods slowly, the fire in his eyes dimming but not extinguished. “You’re right. We can’t let the past dictate our future. But I promise you this—I will never let anyone hurt you like that again.”

“I believe you,” you say, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “And I appreciate it, my love.”

With a final look at Kressa’s lifeless body, Wyll steps back, his breathing finally beginning to steady. The rage that had consumed him ebbs away, replaced by a weary resolve.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Kressa Bonedaughter’s twisted affection for your resilience, her pride in your endurance through countless experiments—these revelations hang over you like a dark cloud. Though the memories she described are shrouded in the void left by your lost past, they disturb you in ways you can’t quite articulate.

Back at camp, you notice a subtle shift in Halsin’s behavior. He hovers close to you, his eyes constantly scanning your surroundings, as if expecting danger to strike at any moment. When you sit by the fire, he sits beside you, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. His presence is a comforting weight, but there's an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there before.

That night, as you lie in your bedroll, you sense Halsin’s watchful eyes on you. You turn slightly, peeking through your lashes, and confirm your suspicion—he’s sitting nearby, his eyes fixed on you, his expression a mix of worry and determination. This has been happening every night since the encounter with Kressa, and it’s starting to wear on you.

After a while, you decide you can't ignore it any longer. You sit up, your eyes meeting his. “Halsin, why are you watching me sleep?”

He starts, clearly caught off guard, and then sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, my heart, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” you say softly. “I’ve noticed you doing this for a few nights now. Why?”

Halsin’s shoulders sag slightly, and he moves to sit closer to you, his hand reaching out to take yours. “After what Kressa said, about what she did to you, I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. About the pain you must have endured.”

You squeeze his hand gently. “But I don’t remember any of it, Halsin. It’s just a story to me.”

“To you, maybe,” he replies, his voice thick with emotion. “But to me, it’s a nightmare I can’t shake. The thought of you being hurt, experimented on like that… it’s unbearable. I feel like I failed you, even though I wasn’t there.”

“Halsin, you couldn’t have done anything. You didn’t even know me then.”

“That doesn’t change how I feel now,” he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “I love you. And the idea of you being in pain, of suffering alone… I can’t bear it.”

You’re touched by the depth of his feelings, but also concerned. “Halsin, you can’t keep watching over me like this. You need to rest too. We both do.”

He nods slowly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “I know. It’s just… difficult. I want to protect you. To make sure you’re safe.”

“I appreciate that more than you know,” you say, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “But we need to find a balance. We can’t let the past, even one I don’t remember, control our present.”

He returns your kiss, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re right,” he murmurs against your lips. “I just… I care so much. Sometimes it feels overwhelming.”

You rest your forehead against his, your eyes closing as you take comfort in his presence. “We’ll get through this together. But promise me you’ll try to sleep tonight.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “I promise. But if you ever feel uneasy, if you ever remember anything, please tell me. Let me be there for you.”

“I will,” you promise, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. “And thank you, my heart. For everything.”

You settle back into your bedroll, and this time, Halsin lies down beside you, holding you close. His presence is a shield against the darkness, and as you drift off to sleep, you feel a sense of peace, knowing that you’re not alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

As you make your way back to camp, you notice Rolan off to the side, his usually poorly hidden irritated demeanour now replaced with visible irritation. He’s pacing, muttering to himself, his expression dark and brooding. You approach him cautiously, sensing that something is deeply troubling him.

“Rolan, love,” you say gently, “is everything alright?”

He stops and looks at you, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “No, everything is not alright,” he snaps, his voice sharper than usual.

You’re taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his agitation palpable. “It’s what that…that monster did to you,” he says, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “The things she said, the things she did. It’s… it’s unbearable.”

You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Rolan, I don’t remember any of it. It’s like it happened to someone else. I’m fine, really.”

“Fine?” he echoes incredulously, his eyes narrowing. “You think you’re fine because you don’t remember it? That doesn’t change the fact that it happened! That you were tortured, experimented on like some… some animal!”

You can feel the frustration boiling inside him, the helplessness he feels. “Rolan, I understand that it’s upsetting, but—”

“No, you don’t understand!” he interrupts, his voice rising. “You can’t understand because you don’t remember! But I do. I heard her. I saw the look in her eyes when she talked about what she did to you. And it makes me sick.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, trying to ground him. “I know it’s hard, but we defeated her. She can’t hurt anyone anymore. And I have you and the others to help me through whatever comes next.”

He looks at you, his expression softening just a bit, but the anger still simmering beneath the surface. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you suffering like that. Of anyone hurting you.”

Your heart aches for him, for the pain he’s feeling on your behalf. “Rolan, I appreciate how much you care. It means a lot to me. But we have to focus on the present, on what we can control. And right now, we’re together, and we’re safe.”

He takes a deep breath, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I know. It’s just… hard to let go of the anger. To think about what you went through.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “We’ll get through this together. One step at a time.”

He looks at you, his eyes searching yours, and finally nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I just… it’s hard.”

You smile softly. “I know. And it’s okay. We all have our breaking points. But we’ll support each other, no matter what.”

He pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. “Thank you. For understanding. For being here.”

You hold him close, feeling the warmth of his embrace. “Always."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Oof this was a lot, my poor babies, who would put you through such a thing (it was me, I did, and I'll do it again)

Hope y'all enjoyed it - Seluney xox

[alpydk]

Inside Out

Oh, this is what I needed after all the smut. Just some lovely angst and pain... Oh, I feel so much better now. Thank you for @an-excellent-choice for this beautiful inspiration and letting me use it.

CW - angst (some comfort) - Despictions of wounds (possibly gross) - Also now edited - any mistakes are just me being a poor writer.

The bandages always itched and even wrapped tightly made no difference. All that was left then was simply the pressure around Gale’s wrists, a cutoff to his circulation as he tried to flex out his fingertips for the spells needed. “Sol Invictus.” The small pale lights glimmered under the fabric of his tent, a stark contrast to what lay beneath his flesh. A darkness, a shadow, much like he had become.

He sat alone, listening for the movement of his companions outside. They laughed over the cheap bottles of wine that had been discovered earlier in the day, a moment of forgetting their present lives of tadpoles and the constant threat of death or ceremorphosis, whichever came first. Sliding up the sleeves of his tattered robe, one once sewn by his mother of whom he missed desperately, he noticed the spread of the rot. How white bandages had become stained with dead flesh and had done little to contain what ate away at him.

Magical artefacts had been doing what they could, keeping the pain at bay whilst they travelled, keeping his mind together as his nerves burnt with every touch and movement. His body ached, but mostly his soul felt as if it were being torn apart. As if the very damage that was being done to him was all a construct of guilt and self-loathing. A positive can-do attitude and a few trinkets is all it would take to be fine, at least that is what he kept telling himself, and would do until the time of Midnight Tears arose. 

Unwrapping the stuck bandages made him grimace, a pulling as what was left of skin came away with the cloth. There was little pain with it, the damage done, the discomfort more of stubbing his toe than a surgical extraction with little anaesthetic, but still the sight was as unpleasant as the first time it had happened. Back then he would have panicked, would have tried all he could to repair or mask what was happening to him, even from himself. Now he simply did what he could to contain the damage, to keep it from his companions. They knew of the orb, but to this extent… He wouldn’t let them find the monster that lay beneath his smile.

A mixture of healing potions removed the worst of the blackened skin that lay along his forearms, the familiar taste of balsam and berries now no longer sickly sweet but just sickly. It was too much to take in one go, but it would be enough to knock him out for the night. His stomach turning would be a problem for him to deal with in the morning. Possibly something I’ve eaten, he would lie, should the question be posed to him.

 A light breeze blew in and a shiver of pain shot through his spine, causing him to grip onto the cloth of his robes. He buried his chin into his chest, muffling the low groan that threatened to alert his party. Long moments passed, one continual thought that maybe this was it, the time to depart, the consequences of his actions finally coming to greet him as if they were an old friend.

It had spread; he examined as the sensation passed up his forearms, his lower legs and feet now also requiring the same beige treatment. He’d never been one for alchemy or first aid, but he had learnt quickly what he needed to do if he were to prevent anyone seeing what he’d done to himself. The blackened tones of his skin, the path of his veins, a roadmap of where the poisons in his body spread. The markings of the orb were merely the capital of this landscape, the rot nothing but where slow conquering armies decimated and corrupted wherever they had been. It was only a matter of time before all was lost, before his body became that of a walking corpse. A ghoul with a soul, but no grave to speak of.

---

Days passed, magic items began to dwindle, bandages wrapped around Gale’s stomach now, and with each step he felt the ache in his knees as his joints rubbed upon one another. Every breath was tight within his chest, his diaphragm struggling to move against the cloth which held him together, a corset of his own construction binding his soul and body as one.

Tav had noticed the changes, the weight loss, the sunken eyes, but little help had been accepted other than the odd magical artifact. She could see Gale vanishing before her very eyes, once the proud wizard who spoke of knitting needles, now the one who spent much of his evenings in solitude, either gazing lost into the embers of a dying fire, or in secret in his tent refusing the help of others.

Tonight had been exactly the same. She had watched as he had departed the group, rubbing his forearms, the monk like dressings wrapped around his hands, woven between his fingertips when weeks before they had been absent. Tomorrow he would emerge with fresh ones, claim they were for aesthetical purposes before batting away any further questions. As he disappeared, she thought over what her intentions would be of questioning him. Was it for his good or hers? Did she really care about him, or was he a means to an end of ridding her of the tadpole? Little deliberation was done as she heard the faintest groan from his tent and she rushed over before stopping, catching her breath and knocking on the wood above the closed flaps.

“Gale, it’s me Tav…”

He tensed up immediately, his robes removed, his bare chest on display, the bandages hanging loosely. Some had become stuck upon one another, and he’d had to pull sharply to remove them, causing a deep stab of pain as the wound had responded angrily. “Tav,” he managed to speak out, trying to keep his voice level despite the breaths he was trying to capture. “Now is not the best of times.”

She could hear the waiver of his voice, the pain she herself was all too familiar with from her own life, one of her bones weary and tormenting. The tadpole for her had been a blessing, but clearly it was not the same for him. “Are you okay?” It was a ridiculous question, she knew, but she did not want to leave until she was sure he could manage alone.

The sound of Tav’s voice put his mind in turmoil. To have her leave or join, he could not cope with either way. There was simply too much for him to handle and he longed for a dreamless sleep brought on by wine and the mixture of potions. “Yes, merely dropped a tome upon my foot,” he lied through gritted teeth as he slumped onto his bedroll beneath him, his body too weak to support him any longer.

She heard the thud, the rush of adrenaline in her system causing her to act, and she entered the tent with little regard for his objections.

“It’s nothing. You need not fuss over me.”

It took a moment for her to gather what she was seeing, the way he had been decomposing, the scent of spices, sandalwood and apple, washed into the bindings to prevent the smell of death from spreading further than his own body. She saw the blisters over pale flesh, the stains of blood and puss upon his skin and robes. “Gale…I…”

“I said it’s nothing!” he snapped at her before gripping his hand to his chest, the anger causing the markings of the orb to illuminate brightly in the dim light. He breathed deeply, trying to take his mind to a glade of tranquillity, one far away from Netherese magic and Mindflayers. It was as Tav’s hand touched his shoulders that he was brought back to reality, her cool palm on his feverish flesh almost overwhelming after a year of solitude.

She said nothing, but knelt down beside him, examining the wounds that lay upon his body, wishing there was something she could do, anything to save him from this fate.

He knew he was nothing but skin, bone, and rot; knew that beneath that, he was even less, and yet still she sat with him. And it was with that one simple act he broke, that the tears fell, and the truth came out. He felt weak, vulnerable, nothing but a child crying over red roses once again. She would leave him, or he would leave her, but either way, he would be alone.

And yet she stayed, for the entire night she stayed with him, holding him close, embracing the shadows as if they were her own. She watched over him as potions took their effect, wiped his brow with a cool cloth as sweat beaded like blood on fresh cuts. She stayed. She stayed…

[faerunnn]

Loss

(Gif found Here! )

I really am an angsty bitch and im so sorry for this.

Warnings: DEATH.

Astarion x FemReader

Wordcount: 2382

This was it. Probably the most important fight in Astarions life. You had been mentally preparing for this moment for weeks now. But nothing could truly prepare you for what you were about to face. A vampire lord, spawn, werewolves. This was not going to be easy, but you had to win. You have to kill him. For Astarion. He deserved to be free, truly free. At last.

You hid behind a big pillar in the vampire lord's lair, while you saw Shadowheart and Karlach team up on him. If you were agile enough you’d be able to sneak past the last couple of bats to free Astarion from the spell's grasp. You saw Shadowheart send out a bright blast of Guiding bolt and you decided to make a run for it. Daggers at hand, you slashed through the cloud of bats that stood in between you and Astarion. Their claws and teeth scratching your skin as they clung on your armor. You had to act quick, they couldn't distract him forever. You managed after a little struggle to kill them all as you continued to run. You reached Astarion, floating in the air, an aura of red, demonic energy surrounding him. You quickly reached for his hands, pulling him down slowly. He fell into you as he woke from the trance of the curse.

‘’Thank you.’’ he whispered as he gave you a quick look of sincere worry. He knew he couldn't linger on. There was too much at stake. You gave him a small smile as you both got up and turned your attention back to Cazador. Karlach was slashing her way through the werewolves whilst Shadowheart was battling bats and skeletons coming at her from every possible angle. From the corner of your eye you saw Astarion run towards a moving shadow, Cazador. You wanted to follow him but Shadowheart was visibly struggling to stay alive while being picked at. You run to her side and with your dagger ready you slit your way through one row or bats, creating a little more room to move and breathe. But it didn't end there. This was truly only the beginning. More bats being summoned every now and then, it seemed as if the waves were never going to end. 

You and shadowheart barely managed, but with the noticeable scratches, cuts and bruises you managed off most bats and skeletons. You ran toward Karlach who was raging like she never had before. Dead werewolves at her feet. Shadowheart went to assist with Cazador. You turned your head for one second but heard a blood curdling scream come from Karlach who was inevitably bitten by a wolf. Her body knocked unconscious instantly. The wolf put his gaze on you as he ran your way. You threw one of your daggers at its head and tried to out maneuver the beast. Which was a much more difficult task than you had anticipated for a creature its size. You saw your blade land on its shoulder as the beast fell forward. You fired an eldritch blast at it and saw its eyes roll back into his head. Karlach had already done most of the damage it seems. You quickly went to retreat your blade and leaped toward Cazador.

You flanked in between astarion and Shadowheart but with his form constantly fading into shadows and moving around the room he made it very difficult to actually hit him. Sweat ran from your forehead into your brows and slowly passed your temples onto your cheeks as you tried to figure out what the best tactic would be to hit this monster. He obviously was sensitive to light spells, any spell that dealt radiant damage. But unfortunately for you, you didn't have any. No scrolls, to spells, nothing. The only one was Shadowheart, and you could see she was also slowly starting to lose her balance. You were starting to really panic now, sure you could keep slashing and beating into him when he wasn't in his ghostly form, but that would take a very long time. Time you didn't have. He was going to beat you all to pulp and use you in his ritual, if you didnt come up with a quick solution. Shadowheart managed to land a great hit with her guiding bolt and you saw Cazador stumble back for a moment. He was slowly getting weaker. But he immediately threw a counter spell to Shadowheart, putting her unconscious on the floor. You screamed her name as you heard her slowly groan. She was not going to be able to get up. Her and Karlach needed healing. But you were not able to provide it to them. Not right now. 

You turned your head back and grit your teeth as a new found anger started brewing inside you. But then Cazador stopped attacking. Stopped defending. He just stood there. You were about to try again to blast him off the edge of the platform when he suddenly spoke up, only looking at Astarion. 

‘’So, this is how you treat your family?’’ he said, his tone calm but so deeply unsettling at the same time. You didn't dare to intervene. You looked at Astartion, blood covering his body, small cuts and bruises, similar to your own covering his torso and face. 

‘’You are no family. Fuck you. And fuck everything you’ve ever done to me.’’ Astarion said. His anger is visible in every fiber of his being. 

‘’You dare to stand here before me? After abandoning us all? You should be begging for our forgiveness.’’ Cazador spoke, venom on his tongue.

‘’Forgiveness? You never forgave me for anything. Every mistake, every slip was punished.’’ Astarion said.

‘’I strive for perfection in all things, even those as imperfect as you.’’ Cazador spoke. You thought you were going to explode with rage. But you kept your mouth shut, this was not about you. This was not your fight, not really. But then Cazador turned to you. Bright red eyes fixated on your frame. ‘’You even brought along a snack. You always knew to bring back the pretty ones.’’ 

Your eyes widened, your body suddenly unable to move a muscle. But yet you stood up straight and walked over to Cazador. You were not in control anymore, he was doing this. Making your body bent to his will. You whimpered as you tried to fight it, urged your muscles to take back control but to no avail. Soon enough you stood right in front of him. 

‘’Don't you dare lay even a single finger on her!’’ Astarion shouted. 

‘’Oh?’’ Cazador spoke. He never broke eye contact with you. ‘’This is a special one? I always knew you to be gullible, but this? This really surprises me. You didn't believe anyone could actually care about you, did you? To see anything but a monster when looking at your face? You continue to disappoint me, even after everything I have done for you.’’ 

Astarion was unable to speak, Cazador got into his head. At the moment he felt most vulnerable, while he was playing with someone who was so valuable to him. He started doubting himself. What if what he said was true? For 200 years no one had ever really cared about him. Why would you? After all this time? Why would you care about him now? What made you see him differently than everyone else had? There was no logical answer to the questions. But he could feel your love. He could see it in your eyes. He could feel it in your touch. Yes you had both at one point briefly discussed it. But it was all so new, such unexplored territory. He did seduce you into a tactical alliance, who's to say you didn't do the same to him? Was it all a lie? For protection? For enjoyment, pure entertainment? Tears started piling up in the corners of his eyes. It can't be true. You wouldn't do that to him, right? Right? 

‘’Silly boy, of course she was only playing with your cold, dead heart.’’ Cazador spoke. Venom lingering in his tone as he pulled out a dagger. Your eyes grew wide, panic rushing all over your body. Still trying so hard to fight his control, his power. But you were unable. You wanted to scream at Astarion how much you cared for him. How much you loved him. You had never spoken it aloud, scared he might not feel the same way. But you didn't care anymore. You wanted to hold the boy in your arms for eternity, if he let you. Tell him how much he meant to you, how much you loved him every day for the rest of your lives. He was everything. You wanted to tell him about the lives you were going to live after this was all over, about how no matter his condition, you would follow. Stay by his side no matter what. That one day, you’d be both sitting in bed, reading books. Talking about sweet nothings, spending an eternity indulging in each other in every way he would allow you to. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you saw Astarions defeated, slouching frame try to gather himself to finish Cazador off for good. But he was distracted, Cazador got into his head. As you saw him look up once again whilst you tried to tell him the three magical words, hoping it would suffice for now. That he would believe you. That he would realize Cazador was lying. But it was too late, as you suddenly felt a cold, piercing presence in your torso. Breath caught in your throat. You gasped for air quickly as Cazadors' hold on your body faltered. You dropped to the floor. The dagger sheathed steadily in your chest. You panicked as you tried to pull it out, causing your blood to splurge all over the floor and the rest of your body. 

‘’NO!’’ Astarion shouted, all doubt suddenly leaving his mind, as he saw your frame fall to the floor, covered in now your own blood. He felt rage. Unlike any he ever felt, he turned to Cazador as he was admiring his work on your body, he ran a stake through his chest, not even wanting to torture him any longer he turned his body around, as he saw the life slip from his old masters eyes. He grabbed his body and threw it off the platform. It dropped hundreds of feet down into the darkness, where he would forever remain. Astarion would make sure of that.

He quickly turned his attention back to you. Rushing over to your side. Hoping that for some sort of miracle you would be okay. That you were able to block it or used some form of magic. That you would tell him everything was going to be okay. That you would be okay. He cradled your frame into his arms to check how bad it was. How much damage the knife had done.

But it was too late. The light in your eyes was gone. As your body went limp and cold. Your eyes dull and lifeless rather than the immense brightness they carried every day. Your limbs are lifeless and cold rather than the comforting warmth that flowed through your veins. He was too late. There was nothing he could do. You were gone. 

He had served vengeance to his master, at the cost of your life. He was free, but felt a grief so deep, one he had never felt before. Of course he wanted freedom, but he did it for you too. So he could give you two a fair shot. A fair chance of freedom. A fair chance of love. A future together. It all slipped through his fingers like snow before the sun. He held your body close as tears flowed freely. His cries are loud and unstoppable. He lost you, forever. He didn't even notice the group of gurr come into the room. They quickly took in the scene and helped heal up Karlach and Shadowheart. They both quickly rushed to his side. Your body is still wrapped in his arms. 

He wasn't even able to tell you how much he loved you. He let Cazador in. He let him doubt you, your intentions with him. Of course you were sincere. There should never even have been a smidge of doubt. You had been honest with him from the beginning. Been by his side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient, you cared. You trusted him when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. He felt safe with you. Seen. He had a future planned with you. You were everything. Yes, he was free. But the only way he wanted to spend that freedom was with you by his side. 

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there. But he didn't care. He was not going to let her go. Shadowheart took a look at her body, tears staining her cheeks, but it really was too late. She couldn’t heal her. There was no spell for revival anymore. There truly was nothing else they could do. All they could do was grief. Continue your legacy. Remember you in everything they ever did. Every tear of laugh shared. All for you. 

As time went on, long after defeating the Elder Brain and freeing Baldur's Gate, wounds started to heal within the party. Except for Astarion. He would visit your grave often. Telling you about the things he had done that day now that he was free. How annoying Gale still was. How Karlach and Shadowheart and Wyll had found new passions in life. How Jaheira and Minsc still were fighting crime together. How much he missed you, how sorry he still was. He would pluck or buy flowers and decorate your grave as often as he could. Sitting in the cold for hours. He didn't care. He promised he would never leave your side. 

As he stood up and tidied the beautiful flowers, he looked over at the grave next to yours. Brushing off the leaves from the tombstone, he read his own name. A promise is a promise.

[letters-from-dekarios]

tolerate it

summary: you and gale were growing apart. your usual cute routine slipped into becoming a mundane list of tasks you did, and the tension was slowly rising. it was high time something snapped between you two, it was just a matter of when.

or: you and gale get into an argument that ends.. badly.

word count: 2.8k

tags: established relationship, gale x gn!reader, angst, abrasive language, based on ‘tolerate it’ by tswift, lyrics used loosely, part of the mystra hate club

Gale Dekarios. Notorious ‘Wizard of Waterdeep’. Your boyfriend and the love of your life. You had been together for years now, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

There wasn’t a thing separating you from one another- until now. Until he started investing his time more and more into his studies. Until he started going away and into the weave for nights on end. Until he started ignoring you.

You had a nice routine going for a while. He’d get up, make you breakfast, and you’d start the shower for him. He’d get ready and you’d set the table, prepped with the dishes your friends gifted you when you moved in together. You’d go out to get the paper, and he’d be waiting for you to solve the latest crossword puzzle. You were always by his side, whether it was helping him point out certain notes in his books, or simply existing by him. Sometimes he’d cling to you, too, as you practiced in your artwork. If he had to leave for a while, you’d have dinner ready and made for him. Sometimes you’d do nothing at all and everything in the world together. You were inseparable.

But now? Now, that routine turned into daily tasks. Those tasks soon turned into chores, and finally, you dreaded waking up in the morning, only to feel your heart break over and over again. You tried to bring it up, tried to tell him how neglected you felt, but it was met with apathy, a wave of the hand, a “we’ll talk about this later”. You couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave- not after all the time you had spent on him. On together. Whatever your concept of “us” had become.

Today was no different than every day for the last three months. You sat at the table, watching Gale read over the paper you begrudgingly brought in. You watched his chest rise and fall unceremoniously, unfazed by the world around him. When he was done, he got up, put his dishes away, and left for his study to get back into things.

He didn’t even notice you hadn’t touched a thing on your plate.

A few hours went by, Gale left to go to the library, and you waited. You waited like a little kid, hoping that this time- this time would be different. This time he would come back and welcome you with open arms, this time he would kiss you like he used to, this time would be happy. This time he would love you.

He was gone for a few more hours, you made dinner, and you waited. Again and again, you waited. You waited for him to come home, to become the man he used to be. The longer you waited, the more he strayed from the path you thought you were on.

The day came and went, you made no move to attempt to talk about it. You were just tired of it all, now.

As you fell asleep, your back to his, you vowed you were over it. You swore to yourself that you were no longer going to sit and watch him, waiting idly for the day that he turned back around. You were not some lovesick puppy who, no matter how many times you were kicked or hit, continued to seek love from someone not willing to give it. You were done.

You didn’t get the paper the next morning. You didn’t set the table, or start the shower, you didn’t do anything you usually did. You got up, you got yourself ready for the day, and that was that. You needed time to think of how to approach him, so you went off to your area of the house and started working on a painting.

You were only left alone with your thoughts for a short time, though, before they were harshly interrupted.

“Why isn’t the table set?” He asked, his voice cold and fierce like he was lecturing a pet who’d done something wrong.

“Because I didn’t set it.” You answered, equally callous. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing his words out of your mind. He wasn’t going to affect you. You swore on it. You vowed it.

“And why is that?” Why is that? You know why that is. You almost retorted, but instead, you took a breath and shrugged your shoulders.

“I didn’t feel like setting it.”

“Right. Of course.”

A hush fell within your space, you wondered if he was still there behind you. He was. You only knew from the loud sigh he let out, his footsteps trailing away and back out into the hall, that he finally left. You heard the dishes slam into the sink and his door smash shut. It shook your supplies. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream- at him, at the world, at whatever changed him in such a way that it created this monstrosity before you.

You did everything for him, everything to bring him happiness and comfort, and you were left with what? His disinterest in you?

Was it your body? Were you no longer enough for him? Was it the sex? Did you not satisfy him anymore? Or had he simply grown tired of you altogether? Would nothing you did change anything at all?

He left after a while, and you broke down. Your tears landed in the paints below you, your portrait of him becoming something vile right before your eyes. You hated it. You despised this. This was your home, too. You were supposed to belong here, and yet you felt like a stranger in the space you created with your own hands.

You were waiting for him when he came home. Not with dinner, not with the paper, or with the table set. You were waiting for him with nothing but your words and a desire to leave. You couldn’t keep doing this anymore.

You stood in the foyer, waiting. Time passed slower than ever. You sat in the kitchen, waiting. The moon rose over the hills. You moved to the couch, you lit candles. You went to bed, he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there.

Your sleep was restless, colder than ever, harsher than the last few months had been. Your desire to leave nearly slipped away. Would you rather be unhappy and in his presence than sleeping soundly? Was that what it came down to?

He was there when you woke up, sat at the kitchen table with his breakfast and the paper.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” You stated, watching as his eyes scanned the words. He didn’t look up at you.

“I didn’t come to bed.”

“I know.”

Silence. You wanted so badly to break it, to smash it with a sledgehammer and send the shards flying across the room.

“Gale-“

“Can we do this after I’ve eaten?”

“No, we can’t.”

No. Had you ever told him that word before? Had it ever slipped off your tongue in the way it just did?

“No?” Now he looked at you. Now he acknowledged your presence, taking up space in his world. Now he let you back in. Only for this.

“I’m done waiting to talk about this. You keep pushing me off- pushing this off. I’m done breaking at your feet and being disappointed that you won’t sweep me up, Gale.” You stood tall, strong. You focused on him, yet kept the image of your happiness ahead of you.

“What kind of a metaphor is that?”

“A damn good one!” You raised your voice at him. You raised your voice at him.

“Don’t shout at me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Silence. Was this what you wanted? Was this how you wanted to do it?

“Fine then. Let’s talk.” He pushed himself out from the table, standing and facing you directly. The deck was in your hands, it was your turn to deal the cards. Had you shuffled them in your favor? Was fate leaning in your direction?

“Fine then.”

You took a breath, thinking of all the time spent on him— spent doting on him, reassuring him, adoring him with everything you had. Then your mind turned to all the times he’d done the same for you. So far and few in between, clarity hit you harder than ever.

“I’ve been doing everything for you for the last few months and this is how you return the favor?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and despair.

“You’ve hardly done everything,” he retorted, your anger boiling over.

“Every day- every damn day, I wake up and I get the paper, I start your shower, I set the table. When you leave, I clean the house, I polish plates until they gleam and glisten, I make dinner, I wait for you- I waited for you all night.” Your voice started to shake, but you steadied yourself.

“If it’s all, somehow, in my head- please by all means tell me now. Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. You act like I’ve done nothing for you when I do everything in the world.”

“And I haven’t done the same?”

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I? When you spent hours on end away from me, where was I? What did you do when you got back? Where’s that man who threw blankets over my barbed wire? Who’d come home and shower me with all the love in the world because he missed me?”

“I still love you.” He tried to interject, but you were past it. Your words were flowing faster than you could think, you had spent so much time cooped up with your thoughts that it all just came out at once.

“No, Gale. I made you my temple, my mural, my sky— now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life. It’s like I don’t even exist to you anymore. You haven’t kissed me in months, we haven’t had a meaningful conversation in weeks. It’s like I’m always taking up too much space or time,” you didn’t want to sound like it, but gods were you begging for him to just return to you.

“Y/N, this is ridiculous. I’ve just been busy. It’s not like we’ve been arguing. We’re fine- there’s been a lot going on,” He sighed, your heart breaking more with every defense he made.

“Really? You assume I’m fine but what would you do if I—“ you cut yourself off, choking back a sob as tears welled in your eyes. How could you say it? How could you even dare ask that question after all you’d been through?

“If you what?” He demanded to know, crossing his arms over his chest. He only wanted to know for himself, not for you, not for your “us” that was slowly crumbling at your feet.

“Break free from this- from us- leave us in ruins? You’re twisting this dagger in me time and time again, Gale. What would you do if I took it and removed it?” Your voice cracked as it raised, your hands gesturing with your words. He looked shocked, almost, that you would even suggest such a thing.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Believe me, I could do it!” You exclaimed, turning and grabbing a bag you had ready nearby in case things went south. You held it up to show him how serious you were about the situation.

“Y/N.”

“I know my love should be celebrated and yet- and yet, you tolerate it. I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome, I take your indiscretions all in good fun, I sit and listen— every day. Every day. And instead of loving me, thanking me for everything I do for you, I get ignored, tossed to the side like I mean nothing to you. You tolerate everything I do like I’m a burden to be around. You expect me to be able to just carry this weight of your disregard for my existence around like nothing. Well, I can’t carry it anymore.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, you noted his expression shift and change as he realized the significance of everything going on. It was like he was seeing how badly he screwed up just now and needed to stall to find out how to fix it.

“Don’t leave-“

“I’m done!”

“Y/N.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, pushing past him and heading for the door. It hurt. It hurt more than anything in your life ever had but in a small, tucked away part of your heart, it felt better than ever.

“Y/N!” He raised his voice, you nearly stopped, but you kept going.

He called your name again, but you blocked him out. You blocked it all out- the damage, the outrage, the apprehension. You had no idea where you were going or what you were doing next but you didn’t care. You were free and you’d be damned if you weren’t happy about it.

Except it wasn’t that easy, of course it wasn’t. It never could be.

Suddenly, you were back in the house, unable to move. You were stuck in place, an emblem glowing around you. He cast a holding spell. You wanted to kick and scream and claw your way out, but you were helpless. You were nothing in comparison to him— did he have to make you aware of that?

“You wanted to talk. I hardly got a word in at all.”

You were released from the spell, not daring to look him in the eye. How could he? How dare he?

“How dare—“

“Don’t start.” He warned, his voice lowered to his seriousness. You became afraid. Afraid? You’d never been afraid of him. Afraid of losing him, sure. But afraid of him? Never. Except for now.

“My sincerest apologies go out to you for feeling this way. But I would never-“

“And yet you did!” You cried out, holding yourself together. You couldn’t pick yourself up if he just kept smashing you to pieces like this. You swore you could do this, that you would do this, but he was making it harder by the second.

“You can’t just leave like this!”

“I can and I will, goddamnit! I don’t want to be with someone who will never give me the peace of mind or recognition of my love that I deserve!”

“For Mystra’s sake..”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into anything. Nothing is happening! You’re not leaving!”

You both stared at each other, eyes narrowed with frustration at one another. You wanted this to be over. You needed it to be over.

“You know what, Gale. It’s really nice putting two-and-two together. Because ever since you started slipping away into the Weave, you’ve gotten more and more distant.”

“Don’t say what you’re about to say, y/n. You’ll regret it.”

“Oh? Will I? Will I regret it as much as I’ve regretted these last few years with you? Had I known I’d be standing here, begging to be let go, I would’ve never touched you in the first place. I would’ve never even laid eyes on you if I knew that, eventually, you’d let Mystra take hold of you. That you’d let her back into your life how she used to be— tell me, Gale, did you intertwine your soul with hers in those hours away? Did she convince you I was wrong for you? Did she steal you from me, or did you give yourself up willingly?”

He was silent, you had your answer.

No more waiting, no more serving hand and foot, no more. None of it. You gathered yourself up off the floor once more, straightened yourself out, and walked right out the door again. He didn’t try to stop you this time. He didn’t fight it.

Part of you wished he had, that he’d answer you in a way that fit the sad reality you wanted to twist. That it’d turn out he was just busy, that he was stressed and didn’t want to talk about it, and that he’d apologize for everything. Part of you wanted to find comfort in his arms, sob into his chest about how sorry you were for fighting, that you’d both do better. You yearned for him so badly that you were almost willing to turn around and give it all up again for him, but you didn’t. You valued your peace more than him. It would be an adjustment, you knew, but you could do it.

You could do it with a broken heart.

And in a few years, when you’d eventually cross paths again, you’d be happy. You’d have your peace and your love, and you’d be able to show him that you were worth it. You were worth the time and effort he could have put into you but didn’t. You’d be able to show him what he missed out on, and you wouldn’t be sad, or upset about it. You wouldn’t revert to that night, you’d stay the same, changed but strong, person you’d become.

Your love would be celebrated, not tolerated.

[gale-dekarios]

when did -- stop screaming, it's just me -- when did halsin get his tattoos? did he do it when he was a lot younger, do you think? or recently? do you think they have any particular meaning, or was it just for the vibes? who did them, do you think? is it a druid thing, or is it a wood elf thing? do you think maybe if it's a wood elf thing it was to identify him as part of a specific community, and do you think it took him a long time to be able to look in a mirror again when he lost them? no, stop crying, i need answers, goddammit.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

hihi!! Can I request Astarion with someone who has ptsd? Maybe him trying to comfort them or something? As someone with it I usually just keep it to myself lol

Hiiiii sorry I took forever to answer this. Sending you virtual hugs alongside this fic, hope it makes you feel just that little bit better. Here's your vampire comforter!

It's kicking in again. The weakness you try so hard to hide from everyone else, afraid of the ostracisation you're sure will follow should they know of it. You feel your throat constrict, wheezing as you struggle to suck air into your lungs. Your vision is a blur, your mind racing and your body is frozen to the spot.

You hate this. The feeling of blood freezing in your veins, the inability to move, to fight back, it makes you feel completely helpless and being completely helpless is never a good thing. Your heart hammers in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you struggle to put one foot in front of the other. Your throat is dry, flashbacks tearing your mind apart and you barely feel your body tip forward but something, no someone, catches you before you hit the ground.

"Falling for me again, darling?" His honeyed words are muffled, ringing in your ears. Your skin prickles where he touched you and you pull away quickly, curling into a tight ball. Clapping your hands over your ears, you try to drown out the voices, whimpering hoarsely and suddenly, your throat seizes up. Your lungs scream for air but no matter how fast you breathe, no air makes its way into them.

You're going to die. You're going to die. You're going to die.

"Darling, focus on my voice. Find me, like you always do." A quiet gentle voice cuts through the haze, reaching out to you from beyond the veil. You strain your ears to pinpoint where it's coming from, the voice familiar.

Astarion.

That singular thought drives you forwards, grasping in the direction of his voice.

"That's it, darling. That's it. Keep going, you're almost there. Don't forget to breathe, you still need that air." His voice is strangely comforting, even with all the teasing. With an unusual gentleness, he guides your breathing, whispering reassurances into your ear.

"I'm right here, darling. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you alone to face this."

When your vision swims back into focus, it's just you and him. You're huddled on the ground, knees pressing against your chest while he sits on said ground next to you. His eyes are filled with concern, a hand resting on your back.

"Darling?" Astarion murmurs.

"Star —" You rasp, devolving into a fit of coughing. He panics for a moment, fumbling for a flask of water in his bag and thrusts the flask into your shaking hands. You struggle to open the flask, still trying to calm yourself down and Astarion leans over, opening the flask for you. All snark is gone, replaced by genuine worry and seriousness as he watches you gulp the water down.

Once the flask is empty, he holds out a hand and you place the flask in it. He puts the flask down and holds his hand out again.

"Take my hand when you're comfortable," he says softly, and silence falls over the both of you. You slowly reach over, feeling his cold fingers gently curl around your hand and tug you towards him. Wordlessly, you sink into his embrace, feeling the tears start to prick the corners of your eyes.

Astarion tentatively wraps his arms around you, relaxing only when you press against him. He buries his face into your hair, hugging you tightly and traces random patterns on your skin. You bite back the tears, gripping his arm but a whimper still escapes your lips anyways and you feel your vampire lover curl around you, gentle kisses pressed against your head.

"It's alright, no one else is here. Let it all out."

His words are enough to burst the dam and you find yourself crying into his chest, clutching at his shirt as each wail tears your body apart. You've never allowed yourself to cry like this before, but this feels…cathartic, and knowing that your lover is right there for you to lean on only serves to comfort you further. Your tears stain his pristine shirt and you babble an apology, voice thick from crying but he hushes you, stroking your hair in an attempt to comfort you.

He holds you close, a hand resting on the back of your head as the last of your cries fade into sniffles, gently rocking you as he hums a lullaby he thought he'd long forgotten. The lullaby's words are lost to him, but the tune alone helps you calm down, and when you next look up at him with puffy eyes, he smiles at you softly.

"Feeling better, darling?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, gazing at you with a fondness you never knew he had in him. He gently wipes away the tears that have fallen, cradling your cheeks in his hands and presses his forehead against yours. You reach up to rest your hands on his, basking in the quiet comfort of your vampire lover.

"Yeah," you croak out. "Feeling better."

He nuzzles you and you lean in, inhaling the familiar scent of bergamot, rosemary and brandy. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him close. You feel him rest his head on top of yours, and the both of you simply stay like this, embracing each other until the sun dips beneath the horizon and the stars come out.

"Stay a little longer, please?" You whisper, feeling him shift.

"Of course, darling," he whispers back. You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at his words. He wasn't going to leave you, he didn't see you as a burden, he was choosing to remain by your side.

Letting out a deep breath, you look up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "thank you."

"Anything for you, love," he purrs.

"I mean it. Thank you for not abandoning me, for staying with me through all…this, for…for everything really." Your words catch him off guard and the tips of his ears turn red. He huffs, trying to pretend that your words didn't affect him and gives you a peck on the top of your head.

"I'm only doing this because you did it for me," he mutters, hiding his face from you.

"Doesn't mean I can't thank you," you chuckle, brushing his silvery white locks aside so you have an unobstructed view of his face. He lets you catch a glimpse of his shy smile, fangs peeking out and you lean forward, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you."

He blinks, startled at your confession and splutters, struggling to find a suitable response. You simply smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze and his cheeks flush, but he returns the gesture and continues holding onto your hand tightly afterwards, refusing to let go.

The both of you may be broken, shattered by the past but it doesn't mean you can't try to put the pieces back together, with each other's help. The scars will forever remain, but they don't have to define either of you, they don't have to control your lives, and they don't have to separate you from him.

You know that no matter what, he will stay by your side, even on the bleakest of days, on the days where your past tears you apart, and you vow to do the same for him. As you walk back to camp holding his hand, you make that silent promise and unbeknownst to you, he makes the exact same promise. He won't ever let you feel like a burden, you won't ever let him feel alone. He won't ever leave your side, you won't ever let him fight alone.

He will love you with everything he has, and you will love him with every breath you take until the end of days.

[lavender-romancer]

Too Sweet

Rolan x Femme Reader

CW: angst, hurt, comfort, fluff

Despite his abrasiveness, Rolan only wanted to love and be loved. Every time he was almost close to you he ruined it in some way, until he didn't.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

The so-called party after the Goblin leaders had been slain was as lackluster as Rolan had anticipated it would be. Your companions mostly drunk out of their mind and his fellow tieflings not far behind. Bringing some magic to the party was well within his repertoire and he intended to show everyone how skilled he really was. A beautiful illusion of a colourful firework show erupted from his fingers as he cast it. His siblings looked up at the display with the same look they usually had but it surprised him when he heard clapping. Turning he found your gaze, a smile he had not expected met his eyes.

“I didn't know you were so skilled in illusionary magic, Rolan.” You remarked, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow.

“I can remember when he could hardly cast that, constantly having us sit around for a fireworks show.” Cal whispered to Lia but in his drunken state it was more of a whispered yell that you definitely heard. Rolan cringed and kept his eyes on you as the illusion faded.

“I thought I should diversify my portfolio before I got to Baldurs Gate. Might be a way to impress Lorroakan, well not impressed but at at least show I'm more than evocation spells.” He rubbed his hands together, the strange prickly feelings he got in his fingers after casting an illusion was still ever present.

“I can show you how to negate the horrible feeling you get after casting an illusion, if you'll accept some brief tutelage?” Your smile was mischievous but your tone was entirely sincere and his fingers did still feel odd. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful… he nodded and suddenly you took his hand and pulled him to the beach not far from the camp. Your hand felt oddly well suited to his. Rolan’s siblings’ giggles rang in his ears but he struggled to bring himself to care too much.

“Come on then, what am I missing?” Rolan asked, arms crossed as you let go of his hand and a cold feeling spread through him.

“You're concentrating too much.” You said simply as if it was the easiest thing possible.

“How is it possible to focus too much? On a bloody spell?” he breathed out a sigh of frustration but you just smiled and took his hands in yours.

“If you stop being so grumpy, I'll tell you.” raising an eyebrow at him you cast a quick illusion of a cat on the sand next to him, it purred and laced its way between both his legs before settling at your feet.

“And you don't get an odd feeling in your fingers when you do that?” He asked, overly eager to learn.

“No, because I'm not focussing on conjuring my cat like it's the last thing I'll ever do. The weave should flow through you without you thinking about it, it's hard to master in a sense. You're concentrating on a spell but it almost doesn't feel like it because you're so enraptured in it all that it comes naturally.” You knelt down, ghosting a stroke on the cat's back before it disappeared, you stood back up with a smile. You looked positively radiant under the moonlight, it bounced off the water behind you giving an angelic hue to your face. Rolan was beginning to get distracted and suddenly realised that he hadn't been listening to what you'd said…

“Rolan?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he was brought back to the present, your smile still ever present.

“Yes, apologies. I was lost in thought.” As he looked down slightly at your face he couldn't help but be filled with a sense of hopefulness. Your smile emanated joy that he hadn't felt in a while, he knew that behind the wide smiles of his siblings was a deep sense of anxiety at their uncertain future. But you didn't seem to be tainted by the cancer of hopelessness and loss.

“Give it a try, still your mind and just imagine what you want your magic to do. Focus on the feeling rather than the illusionary magic itself.” You placed a hand on his arm and turned to stand next to him.

How he was able to focus at all with your hand fixed to his bicep was beyond him but, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes imagining home. The small study he worked in back in Elturel, the deep purple of the fabric embroidered in his office chair, oak furniture and his prized precious gems and fossils.

“Rolan!” You exclaimed, and Rolan opened his eyes to look at you. You began twirling around, looking at every expanse of his illusion with a smile. Even he had to admit the detail was the best he had conjured. “You did it! I'm so proud of you.” Leaping forward you pulled him into a close hug. It caught him off guard and his illusion changed around him as he wrapped his arms around you. Deep lavender tones surrounded the two of you with bright sparkles of white and gold shining through it.

Deep inside of him a feeling began to spread through his body, annoyance and it turned into an anger he hadn't expected. You thought you were better than him, he could tell. Oh let me help you Rolan, you're clearly hopeless, a hellspawn with no magical talent. Was all he could hear in your last words regardless of the thoughts validity.

“Elementary, I assure you. A child could have conjured it.” He let go of you and the lights faded, his face steeled as he looked at you and your smile faded. It tugged at a muscle in his stomach as he saw your expression change but he ignored it.

“What do you mean? I thought you wanted help with your-” but he cut you off.

“Oh great angel thank you for bestowing your help unto me so that I may conjure a fucking illusion. I don't need your pity nor do I need your help. Do you enjoy poking your nose into everyone's business or is it just my family?” He yelled and you visibly shrunk backwards, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

“I wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't agreed to do it. You… I thought we were-”

“You thought that we were what? Having a fucking moment? What a nice naive thought that would be when you aren't homeless and have only one prospect that has been delayed by your sheer ability to insert yourself into everything!” His anger was deep and seething now, all he could see was your pity. But his subconscious could see the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes and the way you comforted yourself through his harsh words, urging him to reach out.

“I apologise, Rolan. Have a good rest of your night.” You didn't look at him as you walked away, going straight to Shadowheart’s tent and visibly crying. Rolan didn't sleep that night, whether it was due to his anger or his hatred for himself he wasn't sure. But he knew that seeing you upset had left a worse feeling in his stomach than anything before.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After Cal and Lia had been safely returned to the Last Light Inn, Rolan tried to mask his relief and genuine emotional response- convinced that if he cried they wouldn't be far behind him. Of course when he saw you and your band of companions stroll through the door after his siblings he wasn't surprised. Perhaps a bit perturbed by the sheer amount of blood you were covered in but nonetheless he was relieved that everyone was alive and kicking.

That evening had erupted into more merriment than he'd expected, a tad more alcohol and songs than he would have liked but it was nice to see Cal and Lia happy (even if it was mostly due to the Firewine). Finding it slightly overwhelming when he was only tipsy he secluded himself to the only other bedroom in this whole bloody place beside Isobel's, hoping for some respite. But he wouldn't be so lucky, turning and being surprised by your form sitting cross legged on the bed with an orb of light hovering in your palm.

“Zurgan! What are you doing up here?” He exclaimed and you looked at him with a perplexed expression before slowly sending the orb of light around the room, lighting up every candle with an enchanted flame.

“I didn't realise the room was taken.” You smirked and it infuriated Rolan.

“Shouldn't you be down there, celebrating how bloody amazing everyone thinks you are?” He responded with slightly more malice than he intended but you seemed completely unphased as you uncrossed your legs and lay back on your hands, looking up at him.

“And what do you think of me Rolan?” Your eyebrow raised and you cocked your head to the side.

“I think you enjoy meddling and playing the hero.” He glared down at you but you once again seemed unphased and it was growing more and more attractive by the minute.

“Oh, come now my fellow spellcaster. Why be so harsh? Are you frustrated I did it before you could?” You were teasing him and it sent a bolt of arousal through Rolan’s body. It was entirely too warm in this room, your focused gaze and the wine was not helping at all.

“I- no! I do not meddle the way that you do. You think too much of your skills if you think that will get a rise out of me.” Rolan was a few steps from you and it felt more and more like he wanted to be closer.

“I think I've already got one.” You stood up and closed the gap between the two of you, Rolan went to speak but couldn't find the words to respond. “If I'd known how handsome you looked when you were quiet I'd have teased you more a long time ago.”

“Gods, why are you so drunk on your own ego?” His gaze was fixed on your lips and you smiled.

“Only when I'm talking to you,” reaching up slightly, you kissed him on the cheek as Rolans eyes grew wide. “If you want me to stop you only have to say so.”

He said nothing and so you carried on kissing up and down his neck. Paying particular attention to his jaw before licking his ear. Rolan let out a moan he didn't know he'd been holding in and it annoyed him a great amount when he saw your smirk.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked and it took all of Rolans strength to not pin you to the bed and fuck you. But he nodded and you placed a hand on his cheek before kissing him softly. He had never kissed anyone that was as bound to magic as he was, it felt like a melding of two energy sources. Intertwining with one another as they amplified their power.

“Why don't you hate me?” Rolan asked breathlessly between kisses.

“Because I can't be bothered too anymore.” You replied, running a hand up his chest and then across his shoulder.

“Why not?” His voice was smaller than he intended it to be.

“Why do you care? Don't you just want to sleep with someone and move on? It would be one of the only good things happening in this forsaken place.” You stood back, exasperated and sat on the bed looking at the floor.

“I- I don't know why I care. But I do. Why are you throwing yourself at me like this?” He regretted the words he chose the moment his mouth was closed. Your gaze slowly rose up to meet his, eyes so tired and there was a new look behind your eyes. No longer pity, but an anger mixed with sadness he had been the cause of.

“If that's truly how you feel, Rolan. Then I'll stop bothering you I promise,” you stood up and reached the door hoping he would turn around and take you in his arms. But he didn't, you left the room and stood on the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath you could only remember how deeply embarrassed you had felt after the party a few weeks ago. You didn't plan on crying to Shadowheart again but it was definitely a possibility, you thought that maybe if you acted more aloof or something that he would want you. Maybe changing yourself wasn't the right decision, but you thought he might like you. If he just got past his judgemental front then maybe he would allow you to see him. Not the mask of anger that he often worem But he still pushed you away as easily as the first time.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dread rose through your stomach and into your mouth, an acidic taste of anxiety because you'd be seeing Rolan soon. Due to your previous transgressions- at least transgressions in Rolans opinion- you doubted that he would be happy to see you. Your last meeting was plagued with judgemental words from him and actions that weren't really in your nature. Regardless of your anxiety, you needed to visit Sorcerers and Sundries for Gale.

It was a beautiful day, sun streaming through the windows and the stained glass ceilings as Rolan stood at the entrance desk. He often thought as he started his shift that seeing an employee at the welcome desk with a face if bruises and burns would be moderately unsettling. But Lorroakan hardly seemed to care. Rolan supposed that humiliation must be one of his Master's great loves considering how this was a usual and common occurrence. As the bruises seemed to heal and hope would rise up inside that maybe this was the end of the test, that he had passed, the beatings started again. It was always nonsensical questions that Rolan had no way of knowing how to answer, knowledge he should have been taught by now but wasn't given the opportunity. The only saving grace for him was that no one be knew was ever in the shop, it was curious children or worldly Baldurians never someone that he- oh fuck.

When he saw you walking through the door, a backpack slung over your shoulder as you stood to the back of your group of companions. Gale strided forward to speak with him. Rolan wondered why you were hiding from him, but he supposed it wasn't so outlandish given the last time you spoke and maybe the state of his face.

“Rolan! It's nice to see you again, who should I talk to about rare tomes and spells?” Gale asked with a polite smile on his face as he attempted (badly) to hide that he was looking at the bruises.

“Welcome to Sorcerers Sundries, home to much magical information, items and spells. Tolna will be able to help you with any rare tomes, she's over there by the other counter. If you need any more help, be assured I will do my best to assist you.” Rolan's smile was so painfully emotionless that Gale sought only to smile and walk over to Tolna rather than stew in the awkward situation.

Gale was accompanied by Shadowheart and Astarion but you stayed, still looking slightly down and picking up a pamphlet on the front desk. The air felt thicker and not in awkwardness but with regret and a tugging feeling in his stomach that he once again needed to apologise. But you didn't look up and he wasn't sure whether to interrupt your thoughts or leave you to your reading about the Nightsong.

“How has your apprenticeship been?” You suddenly asked, your fingers grazing the top of the pamphlet delicately as you refused to reach his gaze.

“Most beneficial, Master Lorroakan is a wonderful tutor and I'm enjoying my time here as I said I would.” His lying was hardly with any effort, he didn't feel like he wanted to lie to you regardless of what you thought of him. He could only hope that you would want to speak to him more due to the very clear lie. It was after he said this that you looked up at him with a hard expression that immediately softened as you stood closer to the desk and lay your palms flat.

“Rolan…” you breathed before you hand gently reached up to cup his cheek. He wanted to shrink away, pretend that he didn't need help and that he didn't want your attention but he couldn't. He was so deeply starved of a kind touch or basic human decency that he leant into your hand. “What has he done to your beautiful face?”

“I-I assure you. This is the result of backfired spells of my own doing.” Rolan gently took your hand off his cheek and looked down, unable to meet your sympathetic gaze. Did you pity him once more?

“Rolan, we both know that you have never been that careless.” You stood firm and tilted his chin up gently so he looked at you, his eyes threatening to spill tears.

“Please, for once allow me to have my privacy!” He exclaimed suddenly and without warning. “Everytime you enter back into my life it's to butt your head into every aspect of it. My spellcasting, my family, my character, the autonomy of my own face! I can handle my own problems and I don't need your righteous help.”

Your face displayed the deep deep hurt that spread through your whole body. Tears pooling in your eyes as Rolan looked at you with misplaced anger and frustration. He couldn't take it back, once again he had ruined it all. You wanted to help him, everytime you showed up it had been his fortune and you were too sweet for him. Too kind to deserve a bastard such as he. Maybe it was for the best that he scared you away with his harsh words, it's not as if they would subside. He was a selfish, rotten man who couldn't accept kindness if it slapped him in the face.

“I'm sorry, Rolan. I didn't-.” You paused, seemingly considering your words carefully before sniffing. “I won't bother you again. I promise.” You'd said that before and he'd longed that you hadn't meant it, now he wasn't sure if you'd ever speak to him again. Slowly, you walked away with your head bowed over to your companions. Shadowheart hugged you extremely close whilst staring daggers at Rolan who just about shrunk in her accusatory gaze.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Lorroakan lay dead on the floor, Rolan had to take a moment and sit down near the body of his dead Master. It felt like his own body might collapse next to him if he stood up for too long. So mentally and physically exhausted but, with a stark realisation that his dream was over, he would never be a great wizard. Who else would take on a hellspawn with no formal magical education? He didn't mourn Lorroakan in any sense of the word but he mourned what could have been, his now forgotten future.

“You fought well, I'm sure you'll turn this place around soon enough.” Shadowheart stood over him with hands on her hips.

“What?” He asked with furrowed brows and she rolled her eyes.

“Don't tell me you're just going to give up and leave? You're the Master of the tower now so you better use that power well. Starting with apologies to people who deserve them, hmm?” She cocked her head towards you. You were standing in the corner, shoulders hunched and making yourself even smaller as you stood near La’zel. The Githyanki almost seemed to be standing protectively next to you.

Rolan nodded and Shadowheart offered him a hand to get up, that for once in his life he accepted and rose to his feet. Brushing off his robe he took note of the blood smatterings.

“Could I speak to you?” Rolan asked tentatively as he approached you, greeted by the accusatory glare of the Gith.

“Oh, me? Of course. Yes.” You walked next to Rolan and smiled to your companions as they exited through the portal with Aylin.

“Thank you. For what you did here today.” Rolan said so earnestly that you were taken back- no backhanded comment or snideness, just humility. “Without you all here today I… I don't know how long it would have all gone on.”

“Honesty, I thought you would scold me for being so meddlesome in your business.” You smiled to yourself, looking down at your muddy boots.

“Well, whilst that is true. It was only to my benefit in this case. As it has always been, no matter how cruel I have been, you have indiscriminately helped me and my siblings. There is no way to thank you that expresses my gratitude.” Rolan was looking at you now and you weren't sure whether to reach his gaze, too afraid he would say something like last time.

“I would have done it in every lifetime, I hope you know that.” You slowly looked at him, ready to wrap your arms around yourself protectively once again. But, he looked genuinely touched, tender even. It made you hope that you could really be friends even if it was never anything more.

“I know I've ruined things with you, I assume irrevocably given my behavior. But if you'll allow me, I would like to be your friend even if nothing more would come from it.” Now he was flicking his gaze from you to the floor and back again, anxiously fiddling with his fingers.

“If that's all that you want then who would I be to refuse,” you smiled sadly. “I think it's nice to imagine what could have happened between the two of us."

"What do you imagine?" Rolan asked, suddenly anxious but hopeful.

"Oh, I don't know. A date or two. Magic with one another and learning new techniques, spending time together etcetera etcetera." Your smile seemed to fade away as you looked into the distance.

"And that would be... favourable to you?" He asked cautiously and you weren't sure how to take it, was he horrified or curious?

"Very favourable. Regardless of everything my feelings towards you have remained constant and I think I would be remiss to act as if I only see you as a friend." You paused, "But that does not mean I don't want to be friends. I understand that my opinion doesn't necessarily line up with yours."

"I- I can't tell if you're joking? You have feelings towards me even when I've been such a cataclysmic fool?" Rolan scoffed with an expression of genuine bewilderment.

"Has that not been painfully obvious from the beginning." You stated wanting to run away to avoid the possibility of rejection but no, you needed this.

"You want me?" He was once again, bewildered.

"Gods, Rolan. Please listen, I've been thinking about you constantly since the moment we met. Ready to drop anything and everything to help you because it was the right thing to do but that didn't stop my real interest in you. That only grew and despite the fuck ups I knew you were in stressful situations and you can never predict how someone will react." You paused looking down at the floor.

"I tried to change how I acted around you whether it was being more flirty or more reserved and everytime I would feel the same afterwards. I wanted you as myself, maybe I'm too patient for my own good but I don't care. If you don't feel the same for me I would still love to be your friend and a friend of your family because you're good people and I adore being around you all." You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from word-vomiting any further.

"I- that is a great deal to take in." Rolan paused, pondering what to say next you assumed. "I can't believe that I'm not the fool who has fallen for someone who could never see me the same way." His smile began to grow and he slowly reached out his hand to brush against your fingers that dug into your arm. You looked into his eyes and struggled to find deception within them.

"I once asked you what you thought of me, what do you think of me now?" You asked, linking your fingers with his and letting your hands hang between the two of you.

"I still think you enjoy meddling and playing the hero but, you're considerate and kind, much too patient for a normal person to be. But more than anything when I think of you I want to be close to you." He squeezed your hand before laying his other hand on your cheek.

The kiss the two of you shared, the first true kiss was beautiful. The trust between two people built up through conflict and displayed through an expression of your deep care for one another. It didn't feel rushed or forced, you weren't pretending to be someone else and Rolan didn't feel as if he had to deflect his feelings into defensive anger. It felt whole.