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frantic-fiction · 11 months ago

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I'll Find My Way Back to You

(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)

Astarion x GN!Reader

Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.

Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.

Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)

Masterlist

“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”

“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”

Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he’s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone.

For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.

He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.

Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.

Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.

Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart.

***

Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.

His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.

The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.

Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.

Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes.

Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity.

The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.

The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.

Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.

You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion.

Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”

“Tav.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.

This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines.

“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.

Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression.

“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”

Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t lie!”

“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”

As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room.

Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.

Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.

In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.

Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.

Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.

The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.

Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?

The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?

The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.

Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.

A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”

The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.

As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale’s ceaseless quest for understanding.

Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.

“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”

Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”

Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.

“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”

***

Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.

Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”

“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense.

“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”

“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”

Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.

Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”

With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.

Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.

Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.

As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.

The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.

Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.

But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.

His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”

A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”

Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”

A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.

Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.

“Half,” you declared suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Half of the daisies survived.”

“And where does that leave us?”

With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.”

Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”

You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering.

***

The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.

Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.

What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.

The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.

Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.

Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.

Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.

Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.

“You are a bastard, Astarion!”

Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”

Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.

Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.

“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”

Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.

“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.

“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”

“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”

“And I love you.”

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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reincarnation #frantic fiction

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comatosebunny09 · 1 year ago

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Okay, but modern art!student Tav infatuated with the milky-skinned, nude model they often sketch for class.

Even though the other students fawn over how unnaturally beautiful Astarion is, Tav always finds their eyes interlocking over their classmates’ murmurs. He always bears a playful, knowing smirk, and his gaze is soft sometimes when he looks at them as if he has the weakest spot for Tav and Tav alone.

Whenever Tav sketches the tattoo seemingly branded into his back into their notebook, they can’t help getting hit with random bouts of deja vu. Like they’ve known this model in a past life, though they can’t quite figure out the how’s and when’s of it. And the other students can’t understand why Astarion, in turn, is so taken by Tav.

Edit: I scribbled something last night.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #soulmate au #past lovers #astarion x you #bg3 #bg3 astarion

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junocornkiwi · 3 months ago

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omg, professor dekarios!!! 😍

... oh, wait, what's with his neck? 🤨 and who's that he's talking to? 😧 omg is he blushing? 😱 omg he's not single 😭 (i'm his wife)

#my art stuff #art #my stuff #art stuff #digitalart #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #baldur's gate gale #professor gale #professor gale au #professor dekarios #gale #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #I just love him I'm obsessed with him he's my soulmate

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galedekarios · 1 year ago

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"We wanted this to feel like Gale and their partner were really merging into one, new, perfectly harmonious being." inspired by [x]

atticus // rumi // frida kahlo // sikhumbuzo bongumenzi thabede // lu yun // hélène cixous // sylvia plath

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #tav x gale #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #otp: a soul that steels my own #ch: gale dekarios #ch: altonaufein #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #edit: mybg3 #misc: poetry #look #i know this is incredibly specific to my interests only #but i needed to get it out of my head #they're soulmates your honor

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istoleyoursk1n · 10 months ago

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HI HELLO MAY I REQUEST FOR HEADCANONS HOW WOULD ASTARION AND GALE REACT WHEN TAV IS THER SOULMATE IN SOULMATE AU (SEPARATE) THANK YOUUYUDNDNDBN

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would Astarion and Gale react to Tav being their soulmate in soulmate AU?

(I’m literally in love with this concept so guess what? No bullet points this time, full on paragraphs to fully immerse you in this universe.)

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

The wretched red string had been connected to him for centuries now, a string he had tugged, torn, and sewn back together throughout his decades of torment and loss. There were days when he saw the red string as a small piece of hope that he held onto ever so dearly, holding onto the delicate string with bruised hands from the many “lessons” his master had thrown upon him. Would the person on the other side ever come to his aid? Can this individual feel his pain and suffering? Would they ever hear his call? That tiny string was his one salvation but it was also a source of deep pain.

For why haven't you come yet? He had spent centuries waiting, mourning, screaming, and begging for a savior, wishing that one of these days his “soulmate” would finally come to save him from this torturous prison but no... No one came. 200 years and you never showed up. Could you blame him for tearing through the delicate string? Could you blame him for wishing to break ties with you? All this time waiting and he couldn't even feel you coming closer. Was he truly that worthless? Yet still, he always came crawling back to the torn string, despite his resentment he’d stitch the two halves right back up just as he's done time and time again. For as much as he wished to despise you, he couldn't. He’d claim that he’d given up on the concept of soulmates and true love yet he so desperately holds onto this vibrant red string like a lifeline. Perhaps it was because it was the only thing that was truly his at the time.

From the stress of being captured by mind flayers and recently escaping the cold grasp of his master, meeting his soulmate wasn't exactly the next thing he was hoping to experience. The moment his eyes met with yours, he was left stunned and speechless as he watched that battered red string slowly fade. A soulmate found.

You weren't what he had expected at all. He’d always think of what you may look like in his spare time alone in the shadows but never this. Perhaps a bit taller… shorter, it was hard to imagine how that you were here in the flesh. Though, at the same time he truly didn't know what to feel. A mixture of relief, sadness, anger, confusion, and perhaps even a sprinkle of happiness. For centuries he’d been waiting for you and you only decide to show up now? He couldn't quite tell if it was a blessing or a curse. He wanted to lash out at you, to ask what took you so long but at the same time he just… if anything he needed a break. He needed a long well-needed break. He was going to threaten the first damn adventurer he saw but seeing that it was you? Well. Perhaps, it would be better to stay with you as he processes his new-found feelings towards you. Both good and bad.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

The red string was always something that constantly piqued his own nagging curiosity. It was never something that truly left his mind. He’d often spend a few minutes a day staring at the thing, watching as it subtly moved or swayed each time the other end of it was dragged along by you. But who exactly was you? A question that constantly plagued his mind each time he felt a small tug or his eyes fell back down to the string. In truth, he already wished to meet you, he was quite enamored by the fact that he did in fact have someone meant for him. The things you both could do together and the adventures you both could share. He was already imagining how each would play out with this imaginary version of you he’d conjure in his head.

However, it all began to crumble down the day he finally made his mind up to seek you. That was the very day he fell into Mystra’s clutches. To be the very chosen of a goddess! How could he possibly deny such an offer? To be working so closely with his own deity and to be given an abundance of knowledge that he so craved. Soon enough, the goddess had wrapped the ambitious wizard around her finger, giving him a “love” that no mortal could ever deny. She was meant to replace this “soulmate” of his. To have a curious little mage adore to her own blissful amusement. Yet, as Gale indulged, he couldn't help but feel… wronged. As if despite being showered by the musings of a literal goddess, it just wasn't enough. What he had just wasn't enough. He didn't feel enough.

There had been days where he’d stare longingly into his own red string, perhaps even silently apologizing to the individual at the other end knowing that his heart truly never lied with Mystra. And perhaps she knew that too.

When Mystra had finally cut ties with him were the days he was the most devastated. Not just because of the loss he felt from losing the favor of a goddess he so deeply worshipped but because he felt as if he betrayed you. Would you even accept him like this? Would he even be enough for you? He truly didn't know. You could imagine the surprise on his face when he finally did get to meet you though. A firm hand suddenly pulling him out of a broken portal and when he finally looked up, he saw you. His red string finally began to fade and at that moment, he was already smitten.

He didn't have to be convinced or told otherwise. He already knew he was going to adore you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanon #bg3 headcanons #bg3 au #bg3 soulmate au #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #astarion #gale

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hellspawn-enjoyer · 5 months ago

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Another thing I need to rant about because I find it incredibly adorable is how these dorks have the nerve to have elements of a reincarnation romance in their romance together.

What do I mean by this?

I mean having dialogue that lampshades that one feels like they’ve met before and the other feels like they’ll meet again. Karlach’s dialogue in her date night romance scene you get in Act 3. You and each companion get a different special response to asking her if being mysterious suits you.

This is her response for Astarion-

Karlach mentions feeling like there's something familiar about Astarion. The second picture is a common dialogue other characters can get, but it does add various meanings to her line specific to Astarion. Overall adding to their special connection and how they just sort of click when they first meet each other.

Feeling something familiar between them also plays nicely into them having similar woven parts in their unfortunate traumatic history. As well as them being a sort of mirror to each other. One that shows what they could've been, but also what they can still become since they can either improve or descend into becoming worse versions of themselves down the road.

This dialogue on its own is cute because of the fact it shows that she feels connected and understood by Astarion to the point that she feels they’ve been together for longer even though their time together at present is so short.

So the fact that Astarion has a similar feeling, but with her death makes it all the more gut-wrenching.

When Astarion tries to convince Karlach to go with him to Avernus to look for a way to fix her engine, if she declines Astarion will tearfully accept her decision but remain hopeful that somehow their paths will cross again. Basically, saying that maybe her death isn’t the end of their love, but instead the beginning.

So now we're getting into the whole Reincarnated/We’ll meet in another life romance trope. Obviously, you can roleplay this with any romance, but it just makes me particularly insane that it’s hinted a few times as a theme in their romance with special dialogue between the two of them. That they have a connection so deep to each other that they can feel it from another life.

Now, of course, I've got to talk about Ascended Astarion's dialogue if Karlach declines his offer to go with him to Avernus because it's interesting in it's own way as well. He essentially says the same thing to Karlach, but the way he says it comes across as being more confident that they'll meet again.

This, of course, can be read similarly with him planning to find her reincarnation and romancing her again or as Astarion willing to do some questionable things in order for them to be reunited with each other. You can see this as sweet, concerning, or both. All valid takeaways from this scene. Either way, he holds on to the feeling that their romance has only just begun and that they have something more awaiting them in the future.

Karlach's origin epilogue if she chooses to die on the docks also adds to this with Withers coming to her and saying that her death isn't the end of her story.

So even if you play their romance in a way that ends with her choosing to go out on her own terms their dialogue and this ending scene connects in a way that reinforces that they'll have a chance to meet again someday. Also implying that they're a fated pair, soulmates, romantic or platonic that have met before and will meet again, that just gets to me.

Overall another reason why I'll never be normal about these two and their relationship with each other! 😭

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #karlach #astarion #astarion x karlach #karlach x astarion #hellspawn #starlach #fireblood #thoughts #they're soulmates your honor #This is basically my PSA to say we should start writing more Reincarnated Romance fics about them

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savs-sims98 · 2 months ago

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🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚSylvannah & Astarion type vibeɞ ˚₊ ✧ ﾟ 🕊

Oh my god, the way his two fingers are together. Ya'll know I'm thinking devious thoughts. ♡

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

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ladyduellist · 7 months ago

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Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Tav has a dream and makes a decision about Astarion.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 16: Dream

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Sexual Language, Self-harm, Blood, Gaslighting, Manipulation, PTSD , Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

What is the cost of turning dreams into reality? The payment of man: his duality. Morrowland awaits for those who can pay, Death masks made for any in his way.

— Raphael, diabolical discussions at the House of Hope

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The first detail Tav noticed about the rich northwestern Sea Ward of Waterdeep was the malodorous stench.

A reeking unpleasant mixture of old and new greed asserted through questionable bargains. The pungency in fear and scandal-mongering behind palatian villa walls. Secrets hidden well beneath caked layers of powdered cheeks and painted façades of cordiality from each patriar’s cut stoned smile.

Gathered in droves did the wayfarers come, to celebrate Winter Shield as the largest holiday of the year. A specified duration for one day, underlining the spectred accounts from the past year. Follies and good cheer, recognized as an enthronement for the special occasion.

Cassalanter Villa towered self-righteously over Tav as she eyed its structure, hearing the roaring jollied voices from the party that was in full swing indoors. And there, her beloved Algos presumably waited, working the visitors strategically for dividends should he grant the evil desires of their hearts. A strange residence he coaxed her into attending to mingle with the orgies of blue bloods at the behest of his aspirations.

It wasn’t that she had never dealt with patriars—especially back in the comforts of her home in Highmoon—but moreso, that she loathed unnecessarily gleaning attention out of highbrow society. She cared not if her singing mouth or the whorl of her rapier impressed upon their besmirched mortalities.

As she approached, dolled up in an empire waist gown crafted from azure ombré velvet and hand painted whitecaps resembling the salt waters of the Sword Coast, she began collecting her nerve to enter the villa, reciting Algos’s instructions in her mind. Each rehearsed pleasantry urged upon her to perform at the upcoming soirée, formed together as they would leave her murmuring lips in an alphabetical soliloquy.

Practice makes perfect.

Good thing I’ve perfected the art of a side glance to deal with these pompous dickheads, she bemoaned in her thoughts, reluctantly walking up to the closed doors.

Tav’s hand hovered above the door handle, a million excuses sprinting through her gray matter as to why she shouldn’t walk across that threshold into the lion’s den.

She formed a closed fist, letting it fall unceremoniously away.

“What am I do—oh…you’re here,” the elven woman quietly proclaimed.

Warmth dispersed between her collarbone and upper breast tissue as her soulmate mark gently made its presence known. Breathing. Alive. Pulling at the invisible bond betwixt them, causing her clattering heart to slow its pace.

She looked down at her chest, imagining the dark brownish shooting star underneath her gown stirring to life. Her mate’s long, steady, drawn out breaths tickled across the astral shape, expanding and contracting. Oh, how many nightfalls had this rare blessing kindling her pale skin endowed her with reassurance?

Tav imagined her soulmate in different scenarios whilst their shared token heated her. Had they been laughing at an embellished joke? Mayhaps demonstrating the proper launch techniques of bows? Or, could it be they were mapping the skies above for an exciting adventure?

However, what she knew for sure was that her mate had acknowledged her hesitancy from whatever location they occupied. Their connection abundant the most during the trials they each faced, knowing the precise moment to lend one another strength to will their resolve to conquer such trepidations.

Still, there loomed something eerie and tenebrous beneath the surfaced flushing emitting from the mark. Flecks of dark scattered emotions that would quickly dissipate into the channels of her nerve endings.

During those periods, she would often sing to her soulmate as she began to do now. Dulcet lullabies from ancient elven lore, hummed prettily off the glint of her lips while she lightly grazed the top heap of her bosom. Tav prayed that the solace from her songs filled her mate’s body, healing their troubled spirit through their fated link as she always did.

And just as suddenly as the dreamlike sensations from her soulmate appeared, they were gone.

With newfound will, it didn’t take long afterwards for her to prepare herself to enter the indoor gathering.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Spine straight.

Doors open.

Welcome to a new hell.

Barges of colors flashed behind Tav’s eyes when she slipped into the home, like fields made from dying stars erupting to give birth to interstellar clouds. A contrast to the falling snow outdoors, entoiling the city of splendors in quilts of white.

Gold and silver tinsel hung from every lit candle wall sconce. Balsam garlands—decorated with fir cones, orange slices, and tinkering brass bells—drooped in a zigzag pattern high above the visitors’ heads in the grand foyer only feet away from the entrance. Noises rang off champagne flutes, filling the air with their own caroling orchestra.

To her left, an ornately carved pulpit stood leering over guests filing in from the cold to administer judgment before they joined the festivities. A toffee-faced dwarven woman, elderly and worn, stood raised behind its face. Large baskets filled with wreaths stacked perfectly on either side of her: novelties of cultural celebration for new beginnings.

“Happy Winter Shield and welcome to Cassalanter Villa, my lady,” the noble dwarf politely announced. “I am Madam Robine Cassalanter and today: our home is your home. Please warm your bones and feast for as long as your belly will allow or until dawn breaks and I put everyone back onto the streets!”

Tav forced a smile, noting the slightly serious tone of her last sentence, evident of her classist ethics. “Your hospitality is without rival, Madam Cassalanter.”

Robine removed a wreath from one of the baskets, steadfastly holding it between her plump sausage-like fingers. “Care for one? The servants have painstakingly outdid themselves this year with them I believe! Handmade over a thousand each in a tenday’s time.”

The dueling swordswoman nodded quietly, moving closer to the pulpit. Patiently waiting as the woman fixed a wreath created from boxwood leaves and winter berries onto her head, Tav observed the smoothness of her hands. Clearly lacking the same scars and calluses she had acquired, she doubted the dwarf had worked a single day in her life that didn’t involve hosting grand parties and speaking gossip over towers of scones.

“Lovely,” she exclaimed, admiring her minimal labor. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with?” The dwarf peeked down at the cuffs of her tacky white and emerald suit, pretending to be unsettled by an invisible stain that just seemed to require all of her attention.

She blinked away the melting snowflakes occupied on her lashes, resisting the urge to subtly insult the woman’s sudden rudeness. “Saer Algos. Do you know of him? He should have arrived an hour or so ago.”

Madam Robine stopped fidgeting with her sleeves, widening her eyes to stare at the woman regarding her. Head tilted curiously, she leaned over the pulpit shifting her vision to study the elf more closely.

Odd. Strangely so.

Tav slightly furrowed her brow, vexed further by the woman’s demeanor. Minutes ticked away before she decided that the suddenly mute dwarf was a lost cause and she would be better off searching for him on her own. Turning away, she proceeded to walk towards the upbeat gathering.

“Saer Algos? Why, yes, he should be inside,” Robine abruptly interrupted, halting Tav. “Now that I think about it, he did mention he was expecting his fiancée to show up sometime after him. Would I be correct that he also said you are a dazzling vocalist and would graciously sing for us this fair eve?”

How very like Algos to use her talents to captivate and indoctrinate the masses for his cause.

Her long dress spun around with her like dancing waves as she looked back at the woman that now had a cheshire grin spanning the entirety of her lower face, further indenting the wrinkles around her eyes.

She swallowed down her objection into the pit of her stomach. “If it should please you and your guests, then I would be honored.”

Tav reminded herself this uncomfortability was for Algos. “For the future” he often reminded her. Should he rise to meet his goals, protection across Everska, The Dales, Cormyr, and perhaps one day The Sword Coast, would be guaranteed. The people would want for nothing, only to enter a unified golden age that had yet to be seen.

His vision: enticing as forbidden pomegranates ripened upon a tree. Seeds of an ideal utopian nation, waiting for their arils to burst open, intoxicating the land. How could anyone refuse? Algos designated himself as the man to conduct the events that would jumpstart everything. A man possessed with masterminded strategies to outwit opponents into carving his position amongst those on lofty perches.

Algos would not fail; he would immolate any that deemed him to do so.The Madam nodded, snapping her fingers at a nearby servant. “May I have your mantle then, Miss…?”

“Tavelle Etriel’kerymaera. My name is Tavelle Etriel’kerymaera,” she answered affably, untying her fur mantle to hand over to the maid obediently holding her arms out like a coat hanger.

“Tavelle Etriel’kerymaera,” Robine slowly enunciated, continuing her strange all-knowing smile. “Enjoy your evening, dearest.”

Bowing her head courteously, she half pivoted to depart—“One more thing Lady Swordsong,” Robine called out, crinkling her mischievous eyes. “My nephew Victoro Cassalanter and his wife Ammalia are here tonight as well. I believe they would find you quite beguiling! And I am sure given your contributions, this won’t be the last we see of each other.”

Contributions? What in the hells was she referring to? Tav entertained.

The elf visibly narrowed her sight, no longer able to hold back her suspicions about the dwarf’s behavior. “Forgive me for my intrusive assumption Madam Cassalanter, but why does it seem as if you know far more about me than you’re revealing?”

She shrugged her shoulders, fixating her interests on the next wreaths to prepare for the guests that had just entered from the blistering cold. “Fly along now Sword of Deepingdale,” the aged dwarf ordered. “You shouldn’t keep your handsome beau waiting any longer.”

Tav bit down on her lower vermillion, contemplating a walk back towards the pulpit to fetch the crone by her hideous jacket to demand answers from her smug face. However, Robine was right: Algos expected her to be by his side tonight and that included demonstrating her best temperament. Despite her reluctance in attending the party, she knew these negative thoughts were temporary and in contrast to the importance of their presence there.

From the entryway to the grand foyer, Tav glanced out amongst a hive of rabid nobles. Each one buzzed about, collecting useful rumors like pollen, transferring it back to the rest of the broods that kept encircling the hall. They sucked and they sucked and they sucked, addicted to every bit of nectary gossip they could store inside the cells of their brains until they could use them for their benefit.

But then, she found her soon-to-be husband, dwelling near an ivory pillar tucked away in a quiet corner. Hair slicked back and robust body clad in a long navy velvet coat trimmed in charcoal-dyed fox furs, Algos’s long shadow peeped out across the marble floor. He was dashing as ever—facial features more intense than usual from a clean shave.

Though, what she did not anticipate was the unrecognizable companion flouncing around him.A human woman clung onto his arm. Pinned glossy black hair. Dressed in gold silks. A pair of sirenic sea green eyes. Breasts pushed alluringly into his bicep. Beautiful and refined by most standards.

The elf watched as Algos’s heavy tongue—presumptively dripping with honeyed charms—whispered into the lady’s ear, causing her to giggle. She craned her neck to peck the corner of his full lips, a row of pearly whites gleaming in the dim light. Then, as the she-wolf was about to depart into the lively crowd, her peachy hand casually slid downwards until her palm met his outlined cock in his trousers.

Wait.

That can’t be right.

It happened so quickly it could have been easily mistaken for a trick of the eye.

“Ah, there she is: my beloved birdie!” Algos waved at her with a half filled glass of champagne, intruding upon her fretful thoughts.

Robotically, her ears perked up, obeying the seductive and cajoling drag from his wispy gruff inflection. The breadth of a faux smile chained itself to her lips.

“Good eve to you my love,” she replied, curtsying as he met her near the doorway.

Should she question him about what she saw? Surely, she was mistaken.

His sight raked over her body, doubtlessly searching for any imperfections that could cause that infamous astringent glimmer in those hickory coal eyes. “You look astonishing,” Algos complimented, appearing pleased.

“Well, I suppose I should, given you were the one that picked out this dress,” Tav tried to quip, briefly ignoring her concerns.

His left arm slotted itself around her waist, pulling her into him. “It has been vastly boorish here without you.”

Tav’s hands flatly landed against the intricately stitched rows of velvet along the upper torso of his coat, as if to guard him from her heart. “Has it? It seemed like you were having quite a bit of fun with that black-haired woman just a few minutes ago.”

Algos threw his head back in laughter, his Adam’s apple sporting a few missed coarser hairs from his shave. “You mean Ammalia Cassalanter and the kiss she gave me? Oh my dove, she was simply thanking me for a little problem solving regarding a mercantile disagreement I did for her husband Victoro. It saved them from loosening some of their funds to placate the persons involved.”

“It’s not the gratitude from her peck that bothered me, but the squeezing of your cock before she sauntered off,” Tav frankly reported.

Without another word, Algos seized her hand and led her into a small sitting room adjacent to the foyer entrance, closing the doors behind him.

Instead of releasing her, he instantly looped her arms around his neck. His free hand tilted her chin up towards him, peering down into her face. “I’m unsure as to what you think you saw, but that didn’t happen. Aside from that meaningless kiss, she didn’t touch me.”

Tav stared up at him silently, the various shades of pink on his cheeks a symptom from imbibing. He always knew what to say to her, always in a way that his manipulations convinced her breaking heart to continue bleeding for him.

“The only woman I want is you,” he cooed, pushing into her plush mouth with his broad tongue, snuffing out her angst immediately.

Upon his slithering tongue slipping betwixt her lips, a delicate sweet tang was tasted, covered under the fruity notes from the champagne. A taste she could equate to the lustful moistures of labia folds mixed with intoxicating jasmine at the end of each breath he aired out.

Tav fought back the vile images of Algos’s head between Ammalia’s thighs, sucking her clit into orgasmic bliss. She was a married woman, after all, with a husband whose watchful gaze vigilantly scanned the perimeter of the grand foyer. How could the two of them manage to get away with their affair within the past hour?

Yet, it occurred to her that even though she could taste the lies on his tongue, he would likely show no remorse. She could certainly probe him enough to admit his adultery to her, but his confession would turn to a plausible excuse that feasting upon wealthy cunt would somehow give him further access into this family’s maggoty circle he aimed to control. The pain of his betrayal would foreseeably become a fleeting hurt to help him usher in “the future.”

This man—this horrible man Tav loved—knew by her altruism that she would always put others before herself because she felt everyone else’s lives were more important than her own.

And he could get away with it all.

Algos leaned back, lips plump and deeply hued in rouge. “Do you believe me?”

No.

“Yes,” she fibbed, swallowing her torment because that’s what he would want to hear.

“Good girl,” he praised, patting the side of her neck. “Now that your worries are eased, did the matriarch of the family treat you decently when you arrived?”

“Madam Robine Cassalanter? She was genial as any patriar pretends to be,” she slightly frowned. “But, something was off about the way she regarded me. What did you tell her?”

The back of his thick index finger gently stroked her cheek. “I should have known my perceptive little bird would pick up on that. To answer: I may have slipped a very rare map into her possession that once belonged to one of the many heroes from ‘The Iron Crisis.’ The Cassalanter’s were quite thrilled that the daughter of that self same hero—you—and a Sword of Deepingdale herself, would offer such a gratuitous gift.”

Her jaw felt like it entirely unlatched as her mouth flew open in disbelief.

By that admission alone, Tav figured out the artifice he meant to play before he even explained himself. She was seething, her chest tightening with heat. “You not only stole a part of my inheritance, but you also laundered it away to one of the most notorious families in Waterdeep to gain an alliance?!”

“Now, now, the Cassalanters have graciously received us. There is absolutely nothing to be upset about,” Algos chastised with a click of his tongue. “Moving people along the game board is all part of the political blueprint. You must have favor with those in disreputable positions to guarantee their compliance for your goals, else chaos ensues.”

“Besides, you should be honored that your mother is the bladesinger, Evenlit Etriel’kerymaera! You’re practically royalty, my dear,” he unerringly said, taking a casual sip of gold fizzy liquid from his glass. “It simply baffles me that you have not taken more advantage of her blood running through your veins.”

Tav grimaced, letting both her arms fall at her sides like lifeless pieces of twine. “It feels like I’m nothing more than the dowry in your marriage to your ambitions.”

Algos glided his finger down the side of her face, finding a loose curl to toy with. “No need to make extremes out of this, love; you’re much smarter than that. All I ask is that you stay by my side and trust me to handle the meat boiling inside the bones,” he slowly said, curling his lips into a smug look.

The muscles in the groove of her lower mouth involuntarily twitched. “Stand by your side as you galavant around with actual criminals while using me and my family like whores?! Those are the types of individuals that have rotted Faerûn, Algos! Ones whose damned schemes we should be disemboweling,” Tav snapped, trying to keep her voice down.

She angrily clutched the hand stroking her silken tresses. “Nepotism by my parents' accomplishments is not something I believe in exploiting. That map was…do you have any idea what you’ve done? The danger involved? I never agreed to any of this.”

Algos raised her hand to his lips for a kiss, devious eyes peeking over her knuckles under a weighty brow. “And yet, here you are continuing to pretend to be everything you hate. Putting on a show in front of all the upper class to garner their favor for yours truly,” he whispered harshly. “Even going as far as to allow me to use that very nepotism you have carefully avoided to strike together the flints that will spark the flames needed to build an innovative future.”

“Besides, the people love to hear stories about heroes: their rise and their fall,” Algos forebodingly remarked, gulping down one last mouthful of drink.

Fall? Did he mean to suggest—?

Disoriented in the hollow of his words, she sensed she was caught in yet another trap. Caught in his orated words that carried separate terminologies from the sentences he formed. Caught because he held both her dreams and night scourges in the palms of his hands, conducting them as a marionette. Caught because she was frightened of what he could do to her and her parents. Caught because of what he’d already done.

Caught because she loved him.

Yet, wasn’t sacrifice part of truly loving someone? Stripping everything away until all that was left were both their damnations and heaven’s respite in their cohesive bodily belfry. At least that was what she had come to believe about love.

And loving Algos? Ha. That had become a form of self-flagellation. With each lash from his actions—his words—welting her mind in the deepest shades of blues and blacks.

Tears formed in her ducts, stinging the thin skin there. “How much further are you willing to go, Algos?” Tav shakily questioned.

“As far as I need to,” he growled, forcefully wrapping her hand around his bicep as he walked them towards the doors to soon reopen. “We’ll address this confusion later on. For now, shall we head back? You do have an audience to enchant.”

From the songstress’s mouth, the Anima Sola suffered in her throat, threatening to painfully scream while she tried to break her shackles to a man she devoted her life to for close to a decade.

This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him.

He loved her…he loved her…he loved her…

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

It has been said that the eyes are the window to the soul. Yet, what of doors?

Doors open and close: one opportunity leading to the next. A ceaseless funnel as the era of the living persisted from birth into death. Still, regardless of the ability to seize such possibilities, a numerous amount remained soundly shut. Shut because of the cruel mistress called fear. Humanity with their spiritual set of keys oft left staring too long at locked doors, that they fail to see others that have been left ajar.

For Tav, however, it had been the opposite. The yawning doorway she found all those years ago, murmured false promises of love, security, and happiness in the form of a man named Algos. And, oh, how guilelessly she tried to steal it all away for herself without even fathoming that she should have waited in front of that one forsaken sealed door until it was ready to be unbolted.

But now, as she followed Algos’s lead stepping over the doorsill back into the stimulating celebrations at the Cassalanter villa, Tav knew he was throwing them both into their inferno graves. Reflexively, she shut her eyes as they moved, listening to his heavy boots for guidance.

The countdown in her head started until they would be met again with an onslaught of noises.

One, two, three…

Silence.

…four, five, six…

More silence.

Her lids flew open, peering out into an entirely different scene. The guests had disappeared. Victoro and Ammalia Cassanter, even his aunt Robine, were nowhere to be found. The villa had transformed into what appeared to be gray slabs of rocks and splintered bones, floating in a strange sky. Above her, the impeccable ornamental garlands had mysteriously vanished, leaving behind a dusky galaxy oscillating in blue, purple, and misty hues.

The bard checked herself, noticing the gown she had worn changed into her usual camp clothes. Even the sophisticated ringlets she donned were replaced with her regular plait thrown over a shoulder.

And then, she understood: it was all a dream.

Tav pieced together that Algos had not escorted her into their once lethal future beyond that portent door, but instead, out of a nightmare from their past life together and back into her present day—or wherever this foreign place was.

She called out to her companions one by one, hopeful they were in the same vicinity. “Shadowheart? Wyll? Gale? Karlach? Lae’zel? Halsin? Astarion? Scratch? Where are you guys?”

However, despite the lack of an answer from her friends, she wasn’t alone.

There, in the quiet proximate distance, her ex-fiancé idled near a shadowy precipice observing a formation created from debris out in the buoyant space that Tav couldn’t entirely see.

“Algos…?!” She alarmingly squeaked out, as if she had seen a ghost.

Why didn’t he disappear when she woke from the dream? He couldn’t still be—no. That wasn’t possible.

The man turned to her, a tranquil smile deepening his aging lines. It astounded her how he looked exactly the same as he once did, save for being clad in shining golden armor. “Hello. Are you alright? I know this is probably unsettling for you.”

Instantly, tremors overtook her body, rattling her teeth together. “But, you’re…you’re…dead! H-how…are y-you…s-s-still alive?! I k-killed—.”

“I-I k-killed…I KILLED YOU!” Her voice curdled, as it thickened with her screaming saliva.

Tav fell to the ground sobbing, an urge to vomit steadily filling her throat. The pangs in her heart became unbearable as her blood seemed to be blockaded from entering its ventricles. Her fingertips clawed into the thin layer of stony dust for purchase, hoping the ground would swallow her whole. Regardless of the passed years after his death, she was nevertheless at his mercy.

Salted earth inside his mouth, He has been preserved. Discord: his acolyte, Has time already been served?

Footsteps approached her, crossing the gigantic craggy mass confidently. “I am sorry to have frightened you. Let me help you up so I may explain,” his soothing vocals seeped out into the air over her.

Through Tav’s overgrown bangs, she saw his hand reaching downwards, palm opened for her to take. Angrily, she swatted it away. “Don’t touch me! Don’t you EVER fucking touch me!”

Algos patiently retracted the scoop of his mitt. “Perhaps it would serve us both better if I were more direct about your predicament. For starters: I’m not actually Algos.”

She loudly cackled. “Not actually—oh, that’s fucking rich! Out of all the times you’ve gaslighted me, this is certainly a first. Run out of interesting ways to terrorize me? Decided to finally manipulate me into believing you’re someone else entirely out of boredom, have you?”

“Do me a favor and kill me off like you should’ve done 10 years ago. Just get it over with. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?!” Tav added as salty streams soaked her cheeks.

He cleared his throat. “Tavelle, you’re still dreaming.”

“What…?”

“This,” the man gestured around the unknown area. “is a lucid dream; a by-product from the tadpoles. It’s how I’m able to somewhat physically manifest to you and your friends. Had I known this form would upset you in this manner, I would have reconsidered my choice.”

“I don’t—what?” She repeated, crossing her shaking arms tightly against her chest.

The subtle infliction of desperation buried in his tone did not escape her. He had knowledge about the tadpoles and, given mention about her friends, their travels thus far. Shit, stranger things have happened to her since they started said journey—taking a sun-walking fussy vampire to bed being one.

Should she believe him? Or It? Would it serve her to extend an ampul of her trust to his claims?

As she studied it, Tav admitted that this version of Algos did appear different. Concentrating on its speech patterns, it struck her that it was vastly more monotone—clearer—than the man she called her ex sweetheart. Its mannerisms were devoid from the calculating quirks she was forced to accept, in favor of an almost calming breeze to its movements. If anything, it was worth it to consider it was being honest and Algos—the real Algos—was still decaying six feet underground for her own peace of mind.

At this point, what did she have to lose? The inner twistings from the mind flayer transmogrification may happen soon anyways.

“This is insanity,” she blew out, wiping her face. “I am probably a downright twit for even considering some of this to be true, but what—er—who exactly are you then?”

It took a moment to answer. “I’m an adventurer—just like you. And just like you, I wish to be free of this infectious mind control. I was the one that saved you from the Nautiloid; surely you remember?”

Memories brightly erupted in the dimples throughout her brain as it rushed its thoughts into her. In one scene, it stood before her pod, unlatching the mechanism that kept her contained. Then, it kept her falling body from colliding like a ragdoll into the sands of the beach back near the crash site.

“Gods above.” She pushed herself upwards, balancing on the balls of her feet until she regained her strength to stand. “That still doesn’t explain why you look nearly identical to Algos,” Tav pressured. “Are you a changeling of some sort?”

“It’s more complicated than that, but I will clarify as much as I’m able,” it started, folding its hands together below its waist. “I can connect with, not only yours, but all your companion’s tadpoles. Through those connections, we’re able to communicate telepathically. The visions within your thoughts sometimes become like a puzzle for me to piece together; other times, they are transparent.”

“Algos” held out its arm to the side signaling for them to take a walk. “Your trances have been consumed with images of this man whose likeness I have taken on. When I realized I could properly meet you through your dreams, I decided the best way would be for me to greet you through the image of someone you once knew. Perhaps I did not deduce the full gravity of your emotions towards this human, and for that, I apologize. It is not my intention to deceive you—quite the opposite actually.”

Tav held up her hands, swirling her index fingers in a backwards circle around the other. “Wait, back up. Am I to understand that you also have a worm inside your head and you can hear or see my thoughts?”

“The uncomplicated answer is: yes.”

Her brow lifted suspiciously. “And the complicated answer?”

The “changeling, yet not changeling” considered her question, a droll hum rumbling at the top of his throat. “First: may I change into someone more palatable for you? Then, we can discuss some of your queries.”

“How are you even able to do that? Is it like a flick of the wrist and bibbidi-bobbidi—nevermind. I mean, please go ahead, just…nobody I know.”

Except, it did shift into someone she recognized. A highly regarded older graying woman that was oft mentioned amongst the civilians for her astute political position in the ‘Council of Four’ as they propagated the daily streets in Baldur's Gate. One that she had never formally met, but saw distributing a few coins into her tip bag while playing the lute on street corners within the big city.

“Duke Belynne Stelmane?” Tav huffed out an unbelievable laugh, planting her hands on either side of her hips.

The morphing creature presented her with a closed mouth grin, identical to that shrewd pucker Stalmane typically touted. “Yes. Do you know about her?”

“It would be hard not to; she is one of the most important women in power along the Sword Coast. I never had the opportunity to speak with her seeing as we obviously ran in different cliques,” the bard answered truthfully. “Did you know her personally?”

“For a while. She was a dear friend to me and one that helped me to seize back my life at some point. We worked together to make a real change out there. But, that time has aged and deteriorated.”

‘Curious,’ she thought. ‘Those unblinking eyes barely show a hint of emotion.’

“I am sorry to hear that Duke—ahem, could I possibly call you by a different name? Just in case you decide to have another glamorous makeover that I may not recognize next time,” Tav teased. “How about the name ‘Dreamy?’”

“You may call me whatever you wish for the time being,” Dreamy coolly accepted.

“Grand! How about we take that walk now?”

They circumnavigated the rocky terrain several passes as Dreamy patiently answered Tav’s questioning scruples. It explained to her that the tadpoles were swaddled in exceptional magic that prevented withdrawal, but she should evaluate learning how to use their power as it may be the only way to save the possible destruction of Faerûn. Its only option was to steal the power that was now protecting them, but at the cost of creating a lot of enemies.

“When I discovered information that these ‘True Souls’ began infecting the people by turning them into their own vessels, I realized they meant to do more damage than creating a surplus of mind flayers—they wanted dominion over them,” Dreamy stated as it turned to view Tav’s shock. “True Souls carry the same supernaturally-infused tadpoles as yourself. The only variation being that those that are infected with normal worms hear the True Souls as if they are connected by a colony hivemind and believe them to be gods.”

Her mind raced trying to process the minutiae to the bigger picture. This was nowhere near what she had predicted after wobbling out of that flayer pod; this was a sentient, respiring nightmare. Would it even be possible to eradicate the True Souls if they wielded that amount of power? And what about the consumption of additional tadpoles? Dreamy failed to mention side effects that could be associated with such risks.

“I-I’m unsure what to say,” Tav muttered at a loss for words, stretching her arm upwards to tug at the skin above her collarbone as if she was still proving to herself that any measure of this was real. “May I return now? Out of this dream and back to camp. I need to speak with everyone as soon as possible.”

“You have been through enough tonight, I will sever the connection as you’d like,” it said, bowing respectively without a single hair of Stelmane’s resemblance loosening out of place.

Her lips pulled up in gratitude while she watched Dreamy walk a few paces ahead, once again beholding a fascination for an object out in the oil slicked atmosphere.

“Tavelle?” It asked before a pregnant pause, the clanking of its armor becoming silent in the unfamiliar ether. “Do you think you should tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

“About what happened to your family.”

Tav inquisitively stared at Dreamy as she sharply took a breath, the thudding of her heart jumping into her windpipe. “Why? All of Faerûn already knows what I’ve done.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Notes:

Elvish name: Tavelle Etriel'kerymaera = Lady Tavelle Swordsong

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pinacoladamatata · 1 year ago

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Sooo larian said we can get married but the real question is can we get divorced?

Asking because the dynamics of a divorced tav astarion are absolutely hilarious to me. Like can you imagine? Yes we got married in a rush while caught up in the ilithid thing but then realized we hate the way the other brushes their teeth and got divorced and now we still have to work together and there's definitely some latent feelings and unsaid things I'm talking about the rivals to lovers to divorced to soulmates Speedrun

#bg3 #astarion #btw when i say soulmates i dont mean in a magical way i mean in a 'soulmates arent found theyre made' way #might have to write this once we get full game hang on

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fire-emblem-drabbles · 11 months ago

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Pairing: Gale x reader (tav)

Prompt: Soulmate AU (sharing pain)

Description: For most of your life, it was normal things; cuts and bruises, sprained ankles and such. Your love must have been some sort of spell caster, from all the magic burns and forces you felt too. But then one day... it hurt so bad. The darkness, the pain, the hunger you felt... At least, it was a burden shared.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: minor descriptions of pain/wounds, descriptions of Gale's arcane hunger,

Notes: I wanted to write for Gale so so bad but nothing was coming to me. Until I was like "fuck it back to the basics" also these fics are such a good way to use all my screenshots. I have so so many. kinda lowkey don't like this but I've had it sitting in my drafts for so long, and just needed to finish it lol

You had thought the greatest pain you could feel in this life was that which your soulmate bore; a great, arcane hungering force that festered in the chest. Though only they bore it truly, you felt it as if it was your own pain. And you, too, felt that hunger, felt relief when it was sated and knew the pain of going without. Knew what to do when you felt it fester and want only more.

But you didn’t know what to think when you felt a sharp pain in your left eye, felt it crawl and wrench it’s way into your brain. How could you? It was something you had no explanation for (what had your soulmate been up to, then, to feel such a way?) It was only when you were abducted by the nautiloid, faced with a mind flayer and it’s tadpole, that you notice how sickeningly familiar the sensation of a worm, crawling into your left eye to make home for its self in your brain was.

So, imagine then when you met not one, not two, but six other people with tadpoles as well. You couldn’t be sure if any of them were your soulmate… but you also couldn’t rule it out. That, and you kept hearing that even more people were infected than the people you now traveled with. Realistically, finding your soulmate should probably not be at the top of your list when you did have a mind flayers tadpole… but the idea that they could be so close to you did have you excited!

But what if they were part of this strange Absolute cult? What if they had already been turned into a mind flayer (would you feel that? Would they even have a soul for your to connect to at that point?) There was a lot to worry about… Chief among them being that familiar growing hunger within your chest. But having been recently dumped off a ship, you have very little to your name to feed it…

“This locket…” You held it aloft in your fingers, soft light from the torches around your tent catching it. You had gotten it from Arabella’s mother after saving the poor girl from Kahga. You could use it’s magic to feed your soulmate’s hunger… but would the other’s notice it missing? How would you explain it’s been consumed?

“You seem to have a lot of your mind.” Gale’s voice catches you from your thoughts, causing you to snatch the locket and pocket it.

“There’s much to think about.” You hum, looking up at him. “How can I help you tonight, Gale?” You change the subject, smiling at him.

“I’ve just come to remind you to eat dinner.” He holds a bowl of something that smells far too good to be camp provisions, leaning down to hand it to you.

“You made this?” Your eyes widen as you accept the food, stomach growling in anticipation.

“Oh this is nothing,” He waves his hand dismissively. “Were we back in my tower at Waterdeep, I would show you the true extent of my culinary talent.” You take an experimental bite, smiling at the savory taste that welcomes you.

“It’s very tasty! I’m nonetheless impressed you made this with supplies from our camp packs.” You praise him, seeing the smile that lights up his face. You have to admit, it’s rather charming even if he is a little haughty. “Thank you for coming to hand this to me, I may have forgotten otherwise.”

“You’re welcome! We can’t have our leader falling behind.” He smiles, but seems like he wants to say something more before deciding otherwise. “You have a goodnight, _____.” You decide not to question it on it. Though you like to think you’ve grown close to him this past week traveling together, not enough to push boundaries quite yet.

“You too Gale!” You give him a little wave, watching as he goes back to the campfire where he must have cooked dinner. You retreat to your tent, closing off from everyone else at camp. Another, uncomfortable pang of arcane hunger hits you and with a soft groan, you put down the food.

“Fine, fine.” You groan and hold your throbbing head, pulling out the locket with the other. You study it a moment, before closing your eyes and holding it to your chest, willing that great, unknowable force within to feed on the weave it held. When the next terrifying moment it is done, and that deep ancient, hunger is sated once again. You let out your bated breath. At least for now, it is sated…

Across camp, Gale can only take a shuddering gasp as he feel’s the orb within him sated. While this hadn’t been the first time his soulmate had helped him sate the orb, this time it almost seems serendipitous that they should do so when he finds himself with nary a magic artifact (nor a tresseym to go out and hunt for one).

Once, as Mysta’s chosen, Gale had wondered what use a soulmate would do him when he was chosen by a Goddess. To be favored by Mystra, mother of the weave… It was quite an addictive feeling, admittedly. But to fall from that grace, to lose the bulk of his powers and have to face the consequences of the orb within him… only for someone who cares for him to feed that hunger, to save him hurt when they may not even know him… It’s quite bracing, and enough to bring a smile to his face. Someone out there cares, despite the pain he has caused them, and despite, for a time, thinking he could live without them.

Still, it is a burden he would rather like to take care of himself. With that in mind, Gale readies himself to tell you (and the rest of the party, though they haven’t quite earned his trust like you have) about the orb at the earliest convenience. You seemed a little troubled tonight so when the day came, he would find the time.

However, it seemed like you had much planned for the day following. Though he was there to watch you agree to raid the goblin camp, Gale hadn’t expected the strides you would make in that endeavor today alone. Already your small party had cleared out the abandoned village before the camp and now you were checking out the surrounding area.

“Excuse me, _____, if you have a moment.” Gale pops up beside you a moment as you survey the area. “I have something rather important to share, if you can spare the time.”

“You’re among friends Gale, go right ahead.” You smile at him, and notice how his face softens at that.

“Yes well,” He takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving yours. It always caught you off guard, how easy it was for him to capture your gaze. “Ever since you freed me from that stone, I’ve seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage.” You watch his hands move up and around, something you’ve noticed he does often when he talks. “When you defused the situation between Aradin and Zevlor, or how you saved that young girl from Kahga…” He shakes his head a little, dark eyes meeting yours once more. “In short, I’ve come to trust you.” He smiles at you, that same boyish smile that you can’t help but smile back at.

“I’m glad you said so, I feel the same way.” You see his smile grow wider a moment, before he continues on.

“The reason I go on to say this is that I’ve grown confident enough to tell you something I haven’t told another living soul. Except for my cat.” He looks troubled for a moment, watching your face for any change of emotion. You try to keep your reaction even, merely raising your eyebrows for him to continue. “...You see, I have this… condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly.” You watch his hands move before his chest in an almost frantic motion, before falling swiftly as he looks to you.

“...Okay.” You nod, looking at him carefully. “What… kind of condition?” You half frown, seeing how strange he was being about this. Not that he wasn’t already a little queer, but in this moment Gale seemed so… tense.

“The specifics are… rather personal… but suffice to say it is a malady I’ve learned to live with-- though not without some effort.” He gives a little grimace, but continues, learning in closer to you. “What it comes down to is this; every so often, I need to get my hands on a powerful magical item and absorb the weave within.” Your eyes wide (in what you hope is a normal way) and you nod.

“So this… illness causes you to consume magic.” You repeat plainly, nodding. “While that is strange, I don’t think it will be so hard to accommodate.” You nod at him assuredly.

“You… don’t have any questions?” Gale asked, seemingly dumbfounded.

“Well of course I do. But it seems like you shared as much as you were willing to on the matter already.” You offer him a small smile and watch the relief spread on his features.

“I thank you for your trust in me. It shall not be unfounded.” He looks rather serious for a moment, before continuing. “Thankfully, I am sated for now, but its merely a matter of time before my craving returns. So I turn to you; I need you to help me find magic items to consume. It is vital, dare I say, critical.”

“Of course. I’m happy to help in whatever way I can.” You smile big for him, hoping he can’t hear the pounding of your chest.

“You have my thanks. Again, your trust in me will be rewarded in anyways I have at my disposal. I’m sure we won’t have to look far, Faerun overflows with magic treasure! As do our packs, in fact,” Your breath hitches at that. He was of course, talking about the locket you got from Arabella’s mother… the very one consumed last night by you (and by extension, your soulmate). What if he asked for it now? How could you tell everyone its gone already? But just as you go on to panic over a response, Gale continues.

“But, I know the allure magic artifacts hold, and their power. All this to say, I understand the sacrifice I ask of you. But if I may be so bold, its for a very good cause indeed.” Gale pauses a moment, and makes sure to catch your gaze once again. “I hope I can count on you.” You nod at him, which seems to please him.

With that, you continue on your way, heading further into the mountains to reach the goblin camp. You couldn’t help but be distracted though. How many people in the realm needed to consume magic for a ‘condition’? And… of those people, how many of them have also been infected by a mind flayer tadpole? You couldn’t help but wonder that-- distracting you enough that as you walk out of the destroyed village and over a bridge, you walk right into the next goblin camp.

“Look Klaw, look’s like dinner’s come to go.” The goblin sneers at it looks up at you. Your eyes widen as you take in the goblins. At least three in front of you that you see, some strange pack animal, and surely more in sniper points. You might be able to talk your way out of this…

“Remember, goblins often come in the dozens, not just a few.” Gale warns.

“Why’d you come this way?” The goblin huffs again, looking up at you with disdain. Yes, you could easily talk your way through this. You can feel the tug of a parasite in this one. Authority. But another, desperate part of you wants to see. If you or Gale got hurt in this battle, would you be able to see the wound on the other… Could he really be your soulmate?

You don’t remember quite what you said to anger the goblin so much, before you knew it battle had started. Thankfully, you had Lae’zel with you to enter the front lines and take out those pesky pack animals, while Gale and Astarion provided support from the rear. Though it wasn’t an easy battle by any means, the more goblins dead, the better in your opinion.

You tried to see if you can feel pain in any place you didn’t remember getting hit, but all of you had gotten one or two bad hits. There was even a point you had to help poor Astarion back to his feet after he had taken out the war drum that would call in reinforcements.

“How does everyone feel?” You call out. “I haven’t quite used all my healing spells yet, so if anyone needs a little pick me up…” You look around to your allies. Lae’zel seemed fine, having had a healing potion to take care of her wounds, and Astarion was looking decent after you had cast Lay Hands on him. You turn to Gale, to find him looking rather haggard, despite being relative safety (sans from a few archers, if you recall).

“If you don’t mind.” Gale calls you over, and you happily oblige, moving over to him while readying the spell.

“Where does it hurt?” You ask, raising your two hands as they glow with healing magic.

“Everywhere, really.” Gale laughs softly. “I feel like I got thrown around quite a bit that battle.” He shakes his head. “I’ll need to be more careful…” he shakes his head.

“You did fine, no need to worry.” You assure him, placing your hands just before his chest and letting the magic flow to him. He sighs in relief and smiles at you. “Don’t forget about yourself, though.” He adds.

“Oh I feel fine.” You assure him. A little better than the moments before, even. “I have potions if I really need them. I would rather save my magic for my allies, anyways.” Sure that everyone was feeling well, you continue to the goblin camp proper, trying your best to distract your self from your ever growing thoughts.

~*~

It isn’t many days after that (though its hard to tell, with all the battles, all the information, all the people you’ve met and helped) that you notice a familiar presence within. That aching, consuming hunger. Thankfully, in the days since you’ve gained plenty of magic items, any of which would more than be able to help Gale. Though this time, it had you nervous.

If you gave Gale an item, watched him consume it before your very eyes, and felt the pain melt away like a soft lullaby… what then? If he truly was your soulmate… what would that change between the two of you, if anything? Was Gale even interested in following his fate like that? It was all so worrisome… And, even if he wasn’t… Would you still have that familiar warm feeling in your chest when you caught his gaze?

Soulmate or not, you had… feelings for Gale. Ones that you couldn’t claim for the rest of the party. And despite everything, you still knew so very little about him. It seems as though your thoughts summoned him, as you look up to find Gale coming your way.

“Come to grab a snack?” You tease, seeing him approach you somewhat seriously.

“I…” He seems surprised a moment before recovering. “How could you tell? I thought I had done rather well in hiding my affliction…” He doesn’t seem embarrassed, more so surprised.

“Oh!” You couldn’t very well say it was because you had also begun to feel the ill effects of going too long without consuming magic. “You just seemed… a little strained today is all. Not that it effected you in battle in any way!” You assure him. “Just that it all took a little more out of you than it might usually…” Gale is quiet a moment, studying you. You can’t seem to meet his gaze, too busy studying the dirt between the two of you.

“I hadn’t known you to be so observant,” In the next moment, Gale is smiling softly. “You’ve read me correctly. My condition is… rather hungry, and I find that feeding it sooner rather than later leads to everyone being happier.” You nod at him, shuffling over to your travelers trunk where you seem to keep all the armor and weapons and goodies from your adventurers.

With your back to him, digging in the trunk, you speak. “If you don’t mind me asking… how does it feel?” You were looking for a specific ring you had picked up, one you were certain everyone would have no problem with parting with. “I mean… is it painful?” Fingers finding the cool metal of a ring of Color Spray, you carefully pull it from the trunk, ready to turn back to Gale for his answer.

“It’s…” He pauses a moment, taking time to consider his words carefully. “It starts off as uncomfortable, and if left unattended quickly become painful.” He frowns softly. “Though it has a number of unwelcome side effects, chief among them seem to be nausea, headache, chest pain…” You can’t help but grip your own chest as you felt a pain go through it. Yes, at this point, you were almost certain. There was just one thing left to do to prove that Gale was your soulmate…

“Um, I’m sorry if this is strange… but could I talk to you in private a moment?” You gesture to your tent right next to you and Gale seems surprised.

“Is this about…?” He stops himself as you shake your head no vigorously.

“It’s um… complicated. But fear not, I’m not going to deny you an item.” Gale seems concerned a moment at how you seemed to be uncomfortable but merely shakes his head.

“Very well.” He allows you to open the flap for him, and you follow him inside. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen the inside of your tent-- you often opened the flaps of it to let everyone know you were free to talk or do other things. But it felt much more intimate to be inside it, closed, with you. You seemed so different with your heavy armor and weapons to the side. In your camp clothing, you seemed so much smaller than the courageous paladin that led them all in battle.

And even now, as you looked upon him with rosy cheeks and worry, Gale couldn’t help but admire you. Who would have guess you would be so shy when it came down to it?

“What did you wish to ask me?” Gale chooses to speak first, seeing how you seem to be struggling just a tad with what to say.

“There… is no easy way to say this.” You admit, half frown fitted on your lips as you look to Gale. “If I am wrong this would be… one of, if not the, most embarrassing thing of my life.” You shake your head again, seeing the look Gale gives you. “But… I am almost certain of it, and would appreciate it if you would give me the chance to prove it to you as well.” You look to him with wide, pleading eyes.

“Prove what?” Gale watches you worry the ring in your hand, sees how you can barely meet his gaze and how you can’t seem to stop blushing despite nothing romantic or embarrassing happening between the two of you. “Please, tell me what has you acting so strange.” You heave a sigh, closing your eyes.

“Gale of Waterdeep… I think we’re soulmates.” It feels strange, falling from your tongue. Even stranger to see his reaction (how can stay so composed?) “Before you say anything I… can show you.” Before he can object, you bring the ring of Color Spray to your chest and let the arcane hunger within you (within him), feed. You feel the immediate relief, but not only that-- you see the look of awe on Gale’s face, see the tension leaving him.

“Well… that certainly is proof, isn’t it?” Even Gale is left astounded in the moment, looking at you with eyes anew. “I’ll admit I had my own suspsions… but you certainly took matters into your own hands, didn’t you?” He’s all smiles and familiar confidence, but you can’t find it in you to feel as steady.

“I… suppose so” You fiddle around a bit, finding his answer to be neither positive or negative. “How do you… feel about that…?” You ask softly. You had loved him for years and years, and finding out that Gale was the person you had loved and taken care of for so long made you so happy. But…

“How could I not be happy?” Gale moves a bit closer to you, taking your hand in both of his. “You’ve done so much for me… Now, and even before we met. To find out the person who took such good care of me is someone I’ve come to respect and trust so much… who wouldn’t be pleased?” He squeezes your hand.

“So you’re not… disappointed?” You add, rather quietly. Gale can’t help but soften.

“With you? Never.” He seems to think a moment, hesitating. “Still… to think that’s you’ve suffered though this like I have… it’s nearly unforgivable.” He shakes my head. “That my mistake led to you suffering as well.”

“Don’t say that!” You tug him closer with your hands, your strength giving Gale no choice but to comply. “Even if it hurts… I’m glad to be connected to you in this way. If I didn’t care, would I have supported you all this time?” At that, Gale smiles. “I… know it hasn’t been long since we’ve met. Shorter still since this revelation has come to light… but I do love you, even if you don’t feel the same.” You muster up the courage to admit this. “I’ve loved you for years and years… finding out you were the person I’ve been in love with just seemed to make sense.”

“… You really are more than I deserve.” Gale again squeezes your hand. “I’ll admit I… find myself fond of you as well. I was never one to put much faith into a soul mate…” You can’t help but deflate a little at that. Gale, noticing this, quickly continues. “But that’s changed since I was cursed-- since Mystra cast me out.” You blink at him, and he shakes his head. “Now that I know you feel the orb’s hunger as I do… you deserve to know the truth behind it.”

“Are you certain?” You frown softly as his hand leaves yours, but Gale merely gives you a serious look.

“I’ve cursed you as well as myself. This is something that effects us both.” Gale doesn’t beat around the bush. “It all starts with a king named Karsus…” Gale settles in to tell you of how he came to have the orb in his chest. Of the King, Karsus, who created his own weave in his ambition to rivil Mystra and once destroyed her. How Gale wanted to impress Mystra, and merely sought to return a piece of her weave back unto her-- that piece being the orb that was now inside his chest. Their union should have destroyed him but instead, the orb merely consumed his power. That, and his place at Mystra’s side; the goddess cast him aside for his folly and Gale found himself lost.

“I thought I had nothing left to live for. My powers lost, Mystra cast me aside… I was content to let the orb finish me off but…” He pauses, looking to you after staring off into the corners of your tent.

“...I remember. I had been sick and hurting for so long. I was desperate to get back on my feet, and came across an amulet that was supposed to boost my health. But as soon as I put it around my neck, it was gone. Consumed.” You smile softly at him.

“You gave me that first push forward. Luckily, even as a wizard locked in a tower, I had plenty of magic items to consume as well. But I also had Tara to go out and look for me. And… you.”

“You know, I was actually out to buy more items for you to consume before I got abducted by the nautiloid. I had wondered why you were going without for so long… Funny, to think, it was because you were also on the nautiloid.” You can’t help and smile wide. Gale returns your smile.

“Fate truly wanted us to meet, then.” Boldly, he chooses to cup your cheek before quickly pulling his hand away. You could feel your heartbeat pick up, see the flash of color on his cheeks.

“For better or for worse, we’re in this together Gale.” You instead reach out for him, taking his hands in yours. “I’ve only just found you and I’ve no intention of letting anything happen to us. No orb, no tadpole-- nothing.” You tell him confidently. “Come what may, let me help you.” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

“You truly are something else.” He smiles at you. “Very well then. I’ll accept your help.” You squeeze his hands.

You knew you were getting your hopes up, thinking Gale would admit to loving you just because the two of you were soulmates, because you admitted to loving him. But this… perhaps this was just as good. Knowing that he trusted you. That he had already liked you before knowing the two of you were bound by fate… At least now, by his side, you could keep him safe. It was a burden halved, a burden shared.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #soulmate Au

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