#frost demon astarion

[vixstarria]

God-Taliesin my beloved. 🥰

A Silver Tapestry

Chapter 2: Bound

(Astarion x Male OC — Gods and Devils AU where Astarion is an ice demon that falls in love with the god he fails to assassinate)

Read on ao3 here

Snippet:

‘Astarion swallowed, entranced as Taliesin began to sing softly in a language that he did not know, and the blizzard, which had seemed to almost dance with the pace of the harp song turned into a languid flurry of large, dazzling snowflakes. Astarion could clearly see the intricate patterns on the glittering faces of the flakes as they swayed and twisted with each pretty word that came from the harpist’s mouth. Gods, his voice as clear as a bell and as lovely as anything Astarion had ever heard… It was all so irritatingly whimsical.

Irritating whimsy aside, though — that beautiful voice commanded authority — power that controlled the snowfall over the entire palace, perhaps even the entire Godsland. The realization made him stall, unable to tear his eyes away from the divine resplendence as his heart skipped a beat… or several.

Fear flooded his veins as Astarion grabbed the hilts of his sheathed daggers — he was, as always, a puppet being commanded by some outside force. He simply could not deny his master, but how, in the name of all the gods, was he supposed to kill one?’

(The drawing of Tali at his desk was reffed from ‘man writing a letter’ by 1600s artist Gabriël Metsu)

[wehaveimagineshere]

Hello! I have a request for either Frost or Ren, both headcanons or scenario are good💞

Could we maybe have a Astarion/Gale/Halsin with an asexual gender neutral reader? Thank you!

Hi! So since Ren only accepts one character at a time per ask, I’ll be doing this! I hope you like it! I’m going to try my best to not make it similar to the other G/N post

Also I apologize for taking so long. A lot has been going on in my personal life that has kicked me in the ass and thrown in for a loop

Astarion

• Astarion was confused and baffled at the thought that you refused to sleep with him

• He tried every tactic he could possibly think of. Sweet nothings, sexual innuendos, fluttering touches. But you still refused

• When you told him that you’re not sexually attracted to anyone he was at a loss. What was he supposed to do now?

• So he grew distant from you for a while. Sex was all he knew. How else was he supposed to make sure you never betray him?

• But you persisted on getting to know him on a personal level. To form a true bond with honest feelings

• You were there for him when he needed you to be. You tried to have him talk out his frustrations and worries

• He would still occasionally try again to have some sort of sexual relations but you had to stand your ground and tell him you were not comfortable with him doing that

• And if he tried again you were gone. That he needs to respect your choices and feelings like you do for him

• And he does. He’s come to learn that he values you more than just someone to sleep with. You trying your hardest to help him with his demons and form a real friendship made him see that honestly, he doesn’t like sex all that much either

• It was just all he knew how to do

• He’s fallen in love with you for you. For who you are as a person. He’s terrified

• But you’ve shown him that you’re sticking with him no matter what. Always and forever

Gale

• Gale was surprised but more curious than anything

• He’s never met anyone who was asexual before and was ashamed to admit that he didn’t know much about it

• He would ask if it was okay to ask you questions about it. Like what exactly does being asexual mean and what your age was when you discovered you were

• Along with what you told him he would also go to libraries to see if there were any books talking about it so that he could become more educated because it genuinely intrigued him

• You would sometimes join him to the library and make it a date. He would point out passages to you and ask you how you felt about them

• He respected you immensely. From what he understood, it might’ve been hard on you to have that sexuality and still have strangers try to make sexual advances

• It angered him when you told him that you did in fact have situations like that in your life

• It made him want to protect you but you would tell him that you could handle it on your own, but you’re still thankful nonetheless

• Gale would prioritize dates where you get to know each other on a personal level

• Along with your now traditional weekly library dates, you’ll also have nice little homemade dinners

• You not having sex and constantly being there for Gale made him realize that he doesn’t need to risk his life to become better than the gods. That he’s fine just the way he is

• It’s not before long that you quickly move in together. Knowing that you want to be together forever

Halsin

• The fact that Halsin is poly made the relationship easier for the both of you

• At first he was surprised. Your sexuality is the complete opposite of his

• But he was still so genuinely interested in you that he wanted to give your relationship a try as long as you were comfortable with it

• Halsin focuses more on the romantic part of your relationship

• He’ll take you on really nice dates in the forest where you’ll dip your toes in a river or lake while holding hands and basking in each others presence

• He’ll ask you personal questions while answering any questions you throw his way, even if they’re a little uncomfortable to talk about

• There will be times where he’ll spend a couple hours in a brothel but it doesn’t bother you a single bit. He respects your decision not to have sex. You can’t force him to follow in your footsteps. It’s not only wrong but it’s just not who he is

• So a couple times a month he’ll go to a brothel or find someone somewhere and have some fun while you work on some projects that needed to be done

• You have a talent for wood carving so in your downtime when you’re not constantly on the road, you’ll carve him ducks in different shapes and sizes

• He keeps them all and will display them in whatever home you’re currently residing. He absolutely adores them. Especially the ones you don’t like as much

• He’ll encourage you to make other designs as well to sell. What you can make with your hands is pure art that should be shared with the world. The ducks are only for him though

• The relationship and dynamic you two have together just works so well and not only do you compliment each other but you fill in the other’s needs that isn’t any less than perfect

[lord-riverstyxx]

Welcome to my blog friends

As you guessed from my bio, I am a Steven Stoughton irl. My source media is the pokepasta Strangled Red (and the other parts Door’s Open and Strangled) and you may have heard of me from the FNF mods Hypno’s Lullaby or Pokepasta Perdition. Apart from irl/fictionkin, I am also otherkin.

Other irls include:

Grey (currently exclusive to FNF Hypno’s Lullaby mod) [weaker irl] 💿🪦

Alternate!Cesar Torres (Mandela Catalogue) ☎️🥀

Kevin (Spooky Month) 🍬💢

Adam Murray (Mandela Catalogue) 👁️‍🗨️🍎

Inosuke Hashibira (Demon Slayer) 🐗🗡️

John Doe (John Doe) 👁️🦷 (has a separate blog @lil-doedoe +18 ONLY)

Hank J. Wimbleton (Madness Combat) 💣🎱 (has yet another separate blog @bl00dysexpxrty but warning for weapons and violence)

Vincent Charbonneau (Dead Plate) 🔪🥩

I also kin (but not to an irl extent like Steven):

Astarion (Baldur’s Gate 3) 🦇

Kotoko Utsugi (Danganronpa) 🎀

Ruby (Pokespe) 🧵

Kuromi (Sanrio) 😈

Medic (Team Fortress 2) 🏥

Mukuro Ikusaba (Danganronpa) ⛓

Seiko Kimura (Danganronpa) 💊

Kirumi Tojo (Danganronpa) 🕸

Tavros Nitram (Homestuck) ♉️

Giyu Tomioka (Demon Slayer) 🌊

Nezuko Kamado (Demon Slayer) 🎋

Black Pearl Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom) 🔱

Randall Purpura (Purple) ☔️

Astolfo (FGO) 💗

Rosaria (Genshin Impact) 🛐

Lisa (Genshin Impact) (we even share the same birthday!!) 📚

Tate Frost (Purple/Frost Bite) (except he’s super fucking cunty /hj) 🪓

Maison Talo (House Hunted) (MIGHT be irl but I’m not sure yet) 🏠

Pest (Roblox Regretevator) (questioning if irl) 🪲

Deimos (Madness Combat) ⌨️ [and maybe the rest of S.Q./Sanford and 2BDamned but I feel like that’s something else as a whole..]

And many more to come… (these lists are subjected to change)

(More below the cut):

My otherkin types (this list subjected to change):

Alternatekin (like the Mandela Catalogue)

Vampirekin

Dollkin

Eldritchkin

Cryptidkin (more specifically, Mothman)

⚠️ Warning!! ⚠️

This blog may possibly contain shocking, terrifying or suggestive content that may not be suitable for certain ages or people. Viewer discretion is advised.

If you choose to ignore this warning and enter this blog intentionally regardless of what I have said, then so be it. I’m not warning you again so don’t blame me for your negligence and inability to obey my rules.

Minors!! This also applies to you too. Don’t be looking at stuff you shouldn’t be looking at and go.

Also, don’t like what you see? Then move along or just block me. I don’t want to deal with you throwing a tantrum over my stuff.

Who is welcome:

Fans of FNF Hypno’s Lullaby or Pokepasta Perdition

Irl or fictionkin

Autistic/any form of neurodivergent

LGBTQ+

Vampire lovers

Weirdcore/dreamcore/nostalgiacore (tw for derealization?)

Creepypasta/pokepasta/general horror fans

Vintage/retro/silent film lovers

Goth, Emo, EGL, anyone alt

Roblox players

If you like male yandere/crazy boy dating sims

Fellow horror villain/slasher kinnies and irls (so I feel less lonely and learn to accept myself more)

General people who aren’t fucking assholes

DNI:

Basics (racist kkk nazi shit, homo/transphobe, allow cringe culture, pro harassment, ableist, always bringing some kind of discourse in normal spaces /s, etc)

Anti otherkin, fictionkin, irl, etc (why are you even here?)

Anti xenos/neopronouns (they’re not that hard to use but no pressure)

Minors (remember: some of the content here may not be suitable for anyone under 18)

If you judge others quickly/make fun of them based on their irl/kintypes or forbid someone from dating another because of their irls/kintypes (I love my partner dearly and I will make sure you understand that)

If you make fun of someone for their interests

General shitty people

I also tend to block freely, so if I see something that makes me feel uncomfortable in your blog then I apologize in advance

Interact with caution:

Steven simps: Some of you guys are.. interesting to say the least. But PLEASE do not be weird to me because I am a person with feelings too.

Astarion simps: While not as bad as the two above me, I humbly request that you don’t obsess over me.

Ruby haters: Yes people are allowed to have opinions but don’t let it be your whole personality. And this is not a place to express how much you hate me/Ruby.

Medic simps: I’ve only seen a few but Medic simps seem to be like Steven simps. Please please PLEASE don’t be weird to me because I won’t accept your feelings.

Alt!Cesar simps: I was once a Cesar simp denying his feelings until I found out I was an irl of him. And oh my god the simps are no different than Steven simps. And for that reason I really don’t want you to be weird to me please.

Adam simps/haters: It just gets better/worse. If you’re here to slobber over me or be pissy to me I’d rather you not because I am not providing you with anything.

Giyu or Inosuke simps: Why do I keep getting the baddies /j but as per usual don’t be a creep.

And that’s all I have to say. Please be civil and kind on this blog and do NOT spread negativity here. Nobody has time for such trivial stuff and I know I don’t so just be fucking nice and if you see something you don’t like then just leave. I have zero time for your tears.

Have a good day and sending kisses to you all, especially a certain person out there 💋💋💋

-Steven

[n-simp]

Who are these fictional men you simp for?

You want the entire list? because it's long, and there's probably more than 75.

1. Astarion - BG3

2. Halsin - BG3

3. Sonic - Sonic Prime

4. Shadow - Sonic Prime

5. Knuckles - Sonic Prime and Sonic Boom

6. Branch - Trolls

7. Daniel - Camp Camp

8. David - Camp Camp

9. Miguel O'Hara - Spiderman Across the spiderverse

10. Venti - Genshin

11. Xiao - Genshin

12. Kazuha - Genshin

13. Scaramouche - Genshin

14. Heizou - Genshin

15. Childe - Genshin

16. Diluc - Genshin

17. Kaveh - Genshin

18. Bakugo - MHA

19. Cross Sans - Undertale au multiverse

20. Nightmare Sans - Undertale au multiverse

21. Error Sans - Undertale au multiverse

22. Ink Sans - Undertale au multiverse

23. Zim - Invader zim

24. Dib - Invader Zim

25. The flea monster - Monster in Paris

26. N - Murder drones

27. Butler N - Murder drones

28. Draco Malfoy - Harry Potter (was a faze... I could fall back into)

29. Jack Frost - Rise of Guardians

30. Connor - DBH

31. Hiccup - HTTYD

32. Raphael - TMNT 2012 edition

33. Leonardo - TMNT 2012 edition

34. Donatello - TMNT 2012 edition

35. Mikey - TMNT 2012 edition

36. Zack - Angels of Death

37. Eddie - Angels of death

38. Teru - TBHK

39. Tsukasa - TBHK

40. Kou - TBHK

50. Mitsuba - TBHK

51. Troll Jim - Troll hunters

52. Inoske - Demon Slayer

53. The ugly upper moon with a sister - Demon Slayer

54. Lloyd Garmadon - Ninjago

55. Morro - Ninjago

56. Kai - Ninjago

57. Cole - Ninjago

58. Jay - Ninjago

59. Asmodeus Alice - Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun

60. Iruma - Welcome to demon school

61. Irumean - Welcome to demon school

62. Irumeanie - Welcome to demon school

63. Opera - Welcome to demon school

64. Kalego - Welcome to demon school

65. Iruma but specifically with his hair tied up - welcome to demon school

66. Kirio - Welcome to demon school

67. Katsuki - Buddy daddies

68. Rei - Buddy daddies

69. Dan heng - Honkai Star rail

70. Blade - Honkai star rail

71. Alastor - Hazbin hotel

72. Angel dust - Hazbin hotel

73. Stolas - Helluva Boss

74. Moxxie - Helluva boss

75. Caius - [redacted]

76. Mateva (prolly not spelled right) - [redacted]

77. Juan - RWBY

The list does go on but this is what I can remember off the top of my head.

[vassothmercar]

Welcome to my (@orivode) rpg (mostly DA and BG3) sideblog! I mostly reblog art, metas and so on, and everything that requires should be tagged as spoilers. As the blog subtitle says, I am Ori, I am 24 and I go by she/her. This blog is both for my liveblogs and to interact with the fandom.

Current Playthroughs

Under Read More because it's long

Esperanza "Era" Flores

Class: Bard Subclass: College of Lore Background: Guild Member Pronouns: She/Her Main Party: Karlach, Wyll & Gale Multiplayer: No Baldurian? No Goals: Get rid of her current mental passenger Experience the world in order to write more songs Make cool stuff Save and help people by accident because she is a goodie two shoes General Thoughts: I am but a humble bard, why the FUCK are these people (the companions) putting me in charge??? Don't they understand bards are not meant for leadership roles??? HelLO!?!?! I think I heard Gods, Devils and Demons can be killed... I wonder if I can do that?

Zilvra Duskryn

Class: Paladin Subclass: Oath of the Ancient || Thinking to changing it to Oath of Devotion Worships: Eilistraee Background: Folk Hero Pronouns: She/Her Main Party: Frost, [REDACTED], [REDACTED] Multiplayer: Yes Baldurian? Yes Goals: Get rid of Wormy McWorm Help the Refugees because goddamIT KHAGA Meet Halsin AKA the manager, because she needs to complain about his druids Try not to stare too hard at Karlach because that is RUDE General Thoughts: Lowly with a lot of feeling: What the Fuck.

Balaena A'daragon

Origin: The Dark Urge Pronouns: She/Her Class: Sorcerer Subclass: Draconic Bloodline Background: Haunted One Main Party: Astarion, Karlach & Shadowheart Multiplayer: No Baldurian? Yes Goals: Find out what happened to her STEP ONE: DO NOT SUCCUMB TO THE URGE STEP TWO: DO NOT Shit, she failed. STEP THREE: TRY AGAIN General Thoughts: Don't think about how tasty that dwarf looks, don't think about how tasty— DAMMIT

[snowfolly]

Astariontober Day 3

I’m writing an AU where Astarion is a frost demon and I’m really excited about it ❄️

[snowfolly]

✨Wip Wednesday✨

Thanks so much for the tag @pursuitseternal !

Here is a snippet from my upcoming AU where Astarion is a frost demon and Taliesin is the god of winter :> (for context, Astarion has tried to assassinate Tali and is waiting for his judgement ;u;)

-

“I could make you serve me for a decade or ten, centuries even! Or I could change you to a carrion crow, damned be your wings for I would cage you — you could never attempt to end me again,” the god said, thumbing his chin and tilting his head to the side in a deviously playful way that made Astarion shiver. Taliesin’s face brightened as if he suddenly realized something profound, and his large, frilled ears perked up as he cocked an eyebrow. “But by all rights, I should kill you, yes?”

Astarion swallowed audibly, his ears lowering in defeat as he nodded his head slowly in reluctant agreement. As much as he hated to admit it, he should be killed for this transgression. There was no way of talking himself out of this one. A stray tear ran down his cheek as Taliesin flippantly puzzled over the frost demon’s fate.

“I suppose that I’ve decided what to do with you, fool,” the god finally said, his tone barely above a whisper as he placed his thumb under Astarion’s chin, raising the demon’s face to stare at him — perhaps to get a good look at the person he was about to damn for eternity. The frost demon’s lip quivered as those muddy purple eyes bored into his, and his mind shattered in terror. This was it. This was the end.

Astarion’s eyes stayed locked with the god’s for time immeasurable, moments or centuries he could not be sure, and to his astonishment, Taliesien’s gaze suddenly softened. He grinned slightly, lopsided and sheepish as he motioned for Astarion to rise. The frost demon’s knees trembled as he stood upon weak legs and the iron shackles binding him grew uncomfortably frigid as they began to loosen in a flurry of mist.

Was this some sort of sick game? What in the names of all the gods and devils was happening?

“I must apologize in advance, demon — for this is going to hurt,” the god of winter said in a genuinely apologetic tone, and Astarion’s eyes widened in surprise as the shackles and chains that tethered his wrists and ankles clattered deafeningly to the stone floor.

[snowfolly]

A Silver Tapestry

Chapter 1: The Wrath of God

After the ice demon, Astarion, attempts to assassinate a god for his master, he finds himself bound, once again, to yet another deity.

His punishment is to serve the God of Winter for a time unknown to him, and his hours are filled with mundane tasks until the day that the god, Taliesin, asks the demon to spar with him.

Sparring leads to something much more than daggers at held other another’s throat, and they must learn to navigate romance with restraint as they fall hopelessly in love. However, all is not perfect, as Astarion must be freed from Cazador's grip before the time on Taliesin's binding curse is up, or he will have to return to the devil — which will not only tear him away from his divine lover, but certainly result in his death.

Taliesin must move carefully to avoid letting the entire winter realm, and perhaps the entire world, fall to ruins for the sake of liberating his beloved.

Or

A love story about a god and the demon that tried to murder him.

(Expect Whimsy)

CW: Violence, Pain (Astarion is Punished for attempted murder and has a bad time.)

Read on ao3 (link wasn’t working so here’s the whole thing lol)

-

Astarion’s stomach twisted into a sick knot of dread as he was led shackled and shambling to gaze wide-eyed upon the face of a god — one that he had tried rather unsuccessfully to murder only hours prior.

Early morning daylight softly backlit a wall of snow, which was falling steadily in an open space behind the lord of the winter realm. It threw his throne into partial shadow as motes of mage light drifted around his darkened form, bathing him in an ominous cerulean glow.

The god sighed dramatically, sprawled across his throne in an absurdly casual position — his legs dangled lackadaisically off of one onyx armrest as his elbow laid on the other; he propped his head on his hand as he regarded Astarion — who he clearly thought to be no more than a pissant — with weary disinterest.

Astarion swallowed dryly, realizing the god couldn’t even be bothered to sit up straight to judge him for his crime, lowly frost demon that he was… and this did not bode well.

At all.

“On your knees,” the deity murmured as the wall of snow behind him abruptly gusted into the room with an intense howling rush.

It whorled around Astarion from the ground up, and he gasped as the air was violently snatched from his lungs by a wind so frigid that he was certain they'd be ruined to ice. Cold typically didn’t bother him, not like this — he was a godsdamned frost demon, after all — but this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It was freezing torment, sending his entire body to chills and causing him to panic as he closed his eyes and struggled to breathe.

Was this it? Would he not even be able to speak to the deity before he died? Was this to be his end? He’d known this was a futile task, but he hadn’t had a choice! Cazador had commanded him, it wasn’t fair, but it never was…

“Fall to your knees, demon,” the god repeated with more vitriol and less tedium in his tone as Astarion’s eyes flew open to realize that the assaulting blizzard had been halted as quickly as it had been set upon him — and yet somehow he remained standing. Before he could properly gather his senses, the gauntlet-laden hands of godsknights unceremoniously grabbed at his shoulders, forcing him to fall to his knees with a sickening crack and bend low in prostration before their lord.

Astarion wasn’t at all sure how he could perspire after being nearly frozen alive, but a drop of sweat fell from the demon’s brow before it froze in midair. The tiny pellet of ice clinked against the marble floor and he took a deep breath to still himself, casting his eyes down as his mind raced, attempting to fathom a way out of the rather bleak situation at hand.

It was a rather futile attempt.

There was simply no way he could escape. He had no weapon — nor would he be able to use one if he did — his hands were bound tightly behind his back, and his ankles were tethered just as securely. His magic had also been dispelled so he could use no incantation to attack or remove his iron shackles, and even so, what chance did he stand against two armed knights and a god? He grit his teeth, for he had not a snowball’s chance in the summer realm.

This undignified moment was likely to be the last in his pathetic life — and pathetic though it was — he did not want it to end. He was not ready to die. Especially not like this!

At least in the pitiful life he led under Cazador he could still hold onto hope… but being damned by a god wouldn’t even allow him that meager respite. His soul would be lost forever to wander in the shadow hell. Darkness would become him, he would feel no passion, no joy, or hope — only the agony of biting cold and sorrow, of endless loss and shadows. Forever.

Astarion had come close enough to assassinating the divine being before him, and he had no choice but to face any punishment that the lord saw fit — and the frozen hell, grim as it was, was a likely outcome…

“Wake up!” The god said, snapping his fingers as Astarion’s eyes darted up once more to face the source of his inevitable end.

“Assassin! I was going to ask your name but that matters not, foul creature such as you are. Pray tell though, Fool — what daft bastard sent you to murder a god?” the deity asked contemptuously, still not deeming it worth his time to move from his lounging position. Astarion swallowed nervously before he cleared his throat to speak. He knew that the god knew exactly who had sent him, but alas…

“The Lord of Ice…”

“Oh my! You’d be clever to address me by my title, Fool,” the god said in annoyance as he flicked his wrist dismissively, and one of the knights roughly pressed the butt of his spear into the back of Astarion’s neck, forcing him to bow lower before their liege.

His title, though? This god had many monikers… Lord of Snow, Your Resplendence, Your Magnificence, God of the Winter Realm, Taliesin — so on and so forth.

If the situation wasn’t so dire he’d come up with more interesting epithets, but it’d be more shrewd to try and weasel himself out of eternal damnation. It would likely do him no favor in the end, but Astarion figured it would be best to grovel, kiss a bit of ass and address several of the lord’s stupid titles.

“Resplendent Lord of Snow, God of the Winter Realm, Taliesin,” Astarion managed in a quavering voice as the godsknight gave him another smarting blow on the back of his neck, causing Astarion’s crystalline horns to knock painfully against the marble floor. He felt one crack and he grimaced as some shards of it fell, tinkling like broken glass near his eye. “The Lord of Ice and keeper of the Frostlands, Cazador, my m… master, sent me.”

“To what end?”

“Well… to slay you,” Astarion said in confusion. Just what in the lower hells were Taliesin’s motives? The deity already knew this information, why was he posing questions as if he did not? Was it all simply to humiliate Astarion further?

“Damned devil. What have I done to slight Cazador this time? I extended my goodwill to him, inviting him to my little fete for the first time in centuries and he couldn’t even be arsed to make an appearance!” The god scoffed. “Is it a coincidence, Fool, that he sent an assassin on the same night?”

Of course it wasn’t.

“My master saw… well — he saw the invite as an insult, Your Resplendence. He’d said the summon to dine and be merry with a sworn enemy was the… the height of disresp…”

“Naturally he would, the fuckwit,” the god said sharply, cutting Astarion off. The demon stared blankly at the floor which lay scarcely an inch below his nose. His tail flicked anxiously as his eyes followed the veins of gray streaking haphazardly through the white marble, and he realized that this could be the last thing he’d ever see. How pathetically glum…

“What does Cazador wish to accomplish by sending a lowly demon to try and kill me? Again. Any thoughts on that rather preposterous maneuver, expendable one?”

Astarion knew that his master had sent many other demons to attempt to end Taliesin’s life in the past, well before his forced servitude, but none of those failed assassins had ever returned to his master’s keep. Cazador’s motivations were just as much of a mystery — what did he wish to accomplish, sending them to die?

“I do not know his intentions for those he sent in failed attempts on your life in years past, Your Resplendence. He ah… my master simply gave me the order to take your life,” Astarion said, recalling that the devil had gone nearly mad with rage since he’d gotten the invitation months prior. Rants regarding Cazador’s hatred for Taliesin were nothing unusual, but the tirades had gotten more and more frequent in the weeks leading up to the event.

The devil would often take his anger out on his imps and demons, throwing bottles of wine at them, having them whipped… and well, torturing them one way or another. Even if Astarion was sent back to his master, his fate would likely not be much better than the one he now faced. Cazador also had the capability of damning his soldiers and servants, casting them into the shadows — he’d seen it done to a steward once, and it certainly was not a pleasant end.

“Did he wish for you to take my life in an attempt to steal my full divinity?”

“Y… yes,” Astarion stammered. He thought that motive was clear — the soul stone meant to capture the god’s divinity had been taken from him, along with the rest of his possessions aside from the clothes on his back when he’d been thrown behind bars. The intention for the assassination was not hidden — and why else would Cazador be so adamant about ending the god? The devil was not subtle about his resentment of Taliesin, who held dominion over the entire realm — including ‘his’ Frostland.

“I see,” the lord murmured, as Astarion took another deep breath. It was nonsensical to even question the god’s interrogation, though. He was prodding and poking for something.

“Did you know, Fool, that your craven master had endeavored to assassinate me — desperately, I might add — for centuries before giving up and sending expendable little demons like you to try and do what he can not, and never will. So I commend you, Fool! You're the first of his flock that has ever come close to fulfilling his laughable dream. Good fucking job!” Taliesin’s wrathful voice reverberated sinisterly through the immense chamber as his diatribe ended, causing Astarion to flinch and flatten his ears against the painful echo before a deafening stillness fell upon the room.

His eyes continued to follow the streaks of gray in the marble, and the frost demon’s heart pounded out of his chest as he waited for something to happen — anything.

There were eight branches on one vein, and one of those veins held capillaries of another eight.

A killing blow, a word of death, racking pain, or the promise of eternal suffering — anything. But seconds wavered into minutes, and minutes turned into what felt like an eternity — and there was only lingering, dreadful silence.

If he wasn't so close to the veins, his eyes would adjust and he could probably see even more jagged branches coming off of the capillaries.

He did not want to die, the gods and devils only knew that he did not want to die! But this fraught suspense would surely end him, and perhaps that would be okay. He couldn’t be damned if he’d just go ahead and die of terror, right?

How many veins of gray streaked the marble in this immense throneroom? The branches would outnumber the stars, surely…

“What to do with you, what to do?” the god said finally, startling Astarion back into the moment as the sound of footsteps made their way toward him. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting tears as sweat continued to drip from his clammy brow, and the footfall stopped just before his pitiful hunkered frame.

“Look up at me.”

Astarion raptly obeyed, lifting himself from his deep bow to stare up wide-eyed at the god. Despite his short stature, he was, without a doubt, the most intimidating creature that Astarion had ever witnessed. There was an aura of intensity swirling about him, furious and radiant in its command, and Astarion’s body began to tremble in response.

Taliesin stepped closer, standing above Astarion with his arms crossed over his partially bare chest before he bent at the waist to get a better look at the demon, leaning in so that he could see every freckle on his divine face, the delicate ring on the left side of his nose, his thick eyelashes surrounding… oh gods, his eyes…

It’d been too dark during the attack so he hadn’t noticed those horrible, wonderful eyes.

It was as if they contained the winter itself — molten silver flecks fluctuated and sparkled within pupilless irises of shadow, deep fuschia tinted — no, aubergine… then indigo. The colors continuously shifted like fog within black onyx — mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure.

Despite Astarion’s fear, he couldn’t help but find himself in awe of the divine beauty that Taliesin possessed as he tilted that lovely, timeless face, studying the demon with pinched features — as if he was observing something foul and small. Nothing more than vermin. Less than vermin.

"I could make you serve me for a decade or ten — centuries even! Or I could change you to a carrion crow, damned be your wings for I would pluck and cage you. Then you could never attempt to end me again," the god said, thumbing his chin and tilting his head to the side in a deviously playful way that sent a fresh shiver of trepidation down Astarion’s spine to the tip of his tail. Taliesin's face brightened as if he’d suddenly realized something wildly profound, and his large, frilled ears perked up, sending his many earrings jingling as he cocked an eyebrow. "But by all rights, I should kill you, send you to exist eternally in the Frozen Blight. Yes?"

Astarion’s thrumming heart skipped a beat as his stomach sank nauseatingly. That was it. That was the name of that damnable hell that he was bound for at any moment.

“Yes,” the demon whispered in reluctant agreement, ears lowering in defeat. As much as he hated to admit it, he should be killed for this transgression. There was no way of talking himself out of this one — he’d held the poisoned dagger to Talisin’s throat. An indignant, stray tear ran down his cheek as the god clicked his tongue.

"I suppose that I’ve decided a proper judgment for you, then," the lord finally announced, his tone barely above a whisper as he placed the back of his thumb under Astarion's chin, raising the demon's face to stare at him even closer — perhaps to get a good look at the person he was about to damn for eternity, or perhaps it was to relish in his abject horror and humiliation. The frost demon's lip quivered as those hauntingly beautiful eyes bored into his, and his mind shattered in terror as they instantaneously went entirely silver.

Gods and devils, this was it.

This truly was the end.

Astarion's gaze remained locked with Taliesin’s for moments or centuries — he could not be sure, and to his astonishment dilated pupils appeared as the irises imperceptibly changed to a muddy purple — soft and…. sweet? The god smiled, lopsided and sheepish as the iron shackles binding the demon grew uncomfortably frigid before they began to loosen in a flurry of mist.

Astarion was dumbfounded. Was this some sort of sick game? What in the godsdamned hells was happening?

"I must apologize in advance, demon — for this is going to hurt," the god of winter said in a genuinely apologetic tone, and Astarion's mouth fell agape as his shackles clattered deafeningly to the stone floor.

His eyes flashed an unsettling silver once more, and Astarion flinched as the god gently cupped his cheeks in his hands — hands that were far warmer than the demon had expected — and he was suddenly enveloped in the same gently swirling mist that had released his fetters moments earlier.

Taliesin bent in even closer to Astarion in a strikingly intimate way — almost as if he was going to kiss him — causing his heart to skip a beat as the compelling scent of cedarwood, rose and black pepper flooded his senses. His skin prickled as the god passed up his lips to whisper into his ear, his breath cold and mint and tantalizing...

“Witness me,” Taliesin whispered, and Astarion experienced sudden, blinding white light and harrowing pain encircling his throat.

Astarion’s stomach tightened into a ball as excruciating tendrils of agony crawled over the tender flesh of his neck, searing and stinging as his nerve ends were set sickeningly alight. He could not move to claw at the affliction nor could he scream in horror, for he could not catch his breath or gather his mind to do so. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his knees gave out, and his existence was naught but torment. He could not take it anymore — there was no way he could withstand this suffering, gods … there was simply no way!

Words in a language he did not know came from somewhere far, far away before he heard the common tongue spoken once more — ‘I’m truly sorry’, it said, as his vision ceased entirely, and then there was no sound at all. There was no sense of smell or any more pain, no enveloping cold or the warm hands of a god — there was only darkness.

[vixstarria]

Snowy wrote something snowy! *ba-dum-tss* ...I'll see myself out.

But before I do: this is so magical and whimsical and poetic and beautiful but also just so damn fun! Love it. Looooove it!

A Silver Tapestry

Chapter 1: The Wrath of God

After the ice demon, Astarion, attempts to assassinate a god for his master, he finds himself bound, once again, to yet another deity.

His punishment is to serve the God of Winter for a time unknown to him, and his hours are filled with mundane tasks until the day that the god, Taliesin, asks the demon to spar with him.

Sparring leads to something much more than daggers at held other another’s throat, and they must learn to navigate romance with restraint as they fall hopelessly in love. However, all is not perfect, as Astarion must be freed from Cazador's grip before the time on Taliesin's binding curse is up, or he will have to return to the devil — which will not only tear him away from his divine lover, but certainly result in his death.

Taliesin must move carefully to avoid letting the entire winter realm, and perhaps the entire world, fall to ruins for the sake of liberating his beloved.

Or

A love story about a god and the demon that tried to murder him.

(Expect Whimsy)

CW: Violence, Pain (Astarion is Punished for attempted murder and has a bad time.)

Read on ao3 Here

-

Astarion’s stomach twisted into a sick knot of dread as he was led shackled and shambling to gaze wide-eyed upon the face of a god — one that he had tried rather unsuccessfully to murder only hours prior.

Early morning daylight softly backlit a wall of snow, which was falling steadily in an open space behind the lord of the winter realm. It threw his throne into partial shadow as motes of mage light drifted around his darkened form, bathing him in an ominous cerulean glow.

The god sighed dramatically, sprawled across his throne in an absurdly casual position — his legs dangled lackadaisically off of one onyx armrest as his elbow laid on the other; he propped his head on his hand as he regarded Astarion — who he clearly thought to be no more than a pissant — with weary disinterest.

Astarion swallowed dryly, realizing the god couldn’t even be bothered to sit up straight to judge him for his crime, lowly frost demon that he was… and this did not bode well.

At all.

“On your knees,” the deity murmured as the wall of snow behind him abruptly gusted into the room with an intense howling rush.

It whorled around Astarion from the ground up, and he gasped as the air was violently snatched from his lungs by a wind so frigid that he was certain they'd be ruined to ice. Cold typically didn’t bother him, not like this — he was a godsdamned frost demon, after all — but this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It was freezing torment, sending his entire body to chills and causing him to panic as he closed his eyes and struggled to breathe.

Was this it? Would he not even be able to speak to the deity before he died? Was this to be his end? He’d known this was a futile task, but he hadn’t had a choice! Cazador had commanded him, it wasn’t fair, but it never was…

“Fall to your knees, demon,” the god repeated with more vitriol and less tedium in his tone as Astarion’s eyes flew open to realize that the assaulting blizzard had been halted as quickly as it had been set upon him — and yet somehow he remained standing. Before he could properly gather his senses, the gauntlet-laden hands of godsknights unceremoniously grabbed at his shoulders, forcing him to fall to his knees with a sickening crack and bend low in prostration before their lord.

Astarion wasn’t at all sure how he could perspire after being nearly frozen alive, but a drop of sweat fell from the demon’s brow before it froze in midair. The tiny pellet of ice clinked against the marble floor and he took a deep breath to still himself, casting his eyes down as his mind raced, attempting to fathom a way out of the rather bleak situation at hand.

It was a rather futile attempt.

There was simply no way he could escape. He had no weapon — nor would he be able to use one if he did — his hands were bound tightly behind his back, and his ankles were tethered just as securely. His magic had also been dispelled so he could use no incantation to attack or remove his iron shackles, and even so, what chance did he stand against two armed knights and a god? He grit his teeth, for he had not a snowball’s chance in the summer realm.

This undignified moment was likely to be the last in his pathetic life — and pathetic though it was — he did not want it to end. He was not ready to die. Especially not like this!

At least in the pitiful life he led under Cazador he could still hold onto hope… but being damned by a god wouldn’t even allow him that meager respite. His soul would be lost forever to wander in the shadow hell. Darkness would become him, he would feel no passion, no joy, or hope — only the agony of biting cold and sorrow, of endless loss and shadows. Forever.

Astarion had come close enough to assassinating the divine being before him, and he had no choice but to face any punishment that the lord saw fit — and the frozen hell, grim as it was, was a likely outcome…

“Wake up!” The god said, snapping his fingers as Astarion’s eyes darted up once more to face the source of his inevitable end.

“Assassin! I was going to ask your name but that matters not, foul creature such as you are. Pray tell though, Fool — what daft bastard sent you to murder a god?” the deity asked contemptuously, still not deeming it worth his time to move from his lounging position. Astarion swallowed nervously before he cleared his throat to speak. He knew that the god knew exactly who had sent him, but alas…

“The Lord of Ice…”

“Oh my! You’d be clever to address me by my title, Fool,” the god said in annoyance as he flicked his wrist dismissively, and one of the knights roughly pressed the butt of his spear into the back of Astarion’s neck, forcing him to bow lower before their liege.

His title, though? This god had many monikers… Lord of Snow, Your Resplendence, Your Magnificence, God of the Winter Realm, Taliesin — so on and so forth.

If the situation wasn’t so dire he’d come up with more interesting epithets, but it’d be more shrewd to try and weasel himself out of eternal damnation. It would likely do him no favor in the end, but Astarion figured it would be best to grovel, kiss a bit of ass and address several of the lord’s stupid titles.

“Resplendent Lord of Snow, God of the Winter Realm, Taliesin,” Astarion managed in a quavering voice as the godsknight gave him another smarting blow on the back of his neck, causing Astarion’s crystalline horns to knock painfully against the marble floor. He felt one crack and he grimaced as some shards of it fell, tinkling like broken glass near his eye. “The Lord of Ice and keeper of the Frostlands, Cazador, my m… master, sent me.”

“To what end?”

“Well… to slay you,” Astarion said in confusion. Just what in the lower hells were Taliesin’s motives? The deity already knew this information, why was he posing questions as if he did not? Was it all simply to humiliate Astarion further?

“Damned devil. What have I done to slight Cazador this time? I extended my goodwill to him, inviting him to my little fete for the first time in centuries and he couldn’t even be arsed to make an appearance!” The god scoffed. “Is it a coincidence, Fool, that he sent an assassin on the same night?”

Of course it wasn’t.

“My master saw… well — he saw the invite as an insult, Your Resplendence. He’d said the summon to dine and be merry with a sworn enemy was the… the height of disresp…”

“Naturally he would, the fuckwit,” the god said sharply, cutting Astarion off. The demon stared blankly at the floor which lay scarcely an inch below his nose. His tail flicked anxiously as his eyes followed the veins of gray streaking haphazardly through the white marble, and he realized that this could be the last thing he’d ever see. How pathetically glum…

“What does Cazador wish to accomplish by sending a lowly demon to try and kill me? Again. Any thoughts on that rather preposterous maneuver, expendable one?”

Astarion knew that his master had sent many other demons to attempt to end Taliesin’s life in the past, well before his forced servitude, but none of those failed assassins had ever returned to his master’s keep. Cazador’s motivations were just as much of a mystery — what did he wish to accomplish, sending them to die?

“I do not know his intentions for those he sent in failed attempts on your life in years past, Your Resplendence. He ah… my master simply gave me the order to take your life,” Astarion said, recalling that the devil had gone nearly mad with rage since he’d gotten the invitation months prior. Rants regarding Cazador’s hatred for Taliesin were nothing unusual, but the tirades had gotten more and more frequent in the weeks leading up to the event.

The devil would often take his anger out on his imps and demons, throwing bottles of wine at them, having them whipped… and well, torturing them one way or another. Even if Astarion was sent back to his master, his fate would likely not be much better than the one he now faced. Cazador also had the capability of damning his soldiers and servants, casting them into the shadows — he’d seen it done to a steward once, and it certainly was not a pleasant end.

“Did he wish for you to take my life in an attempt to steal my full divinity?”

“Y… yes,” Astarion stammered. He thought that motive was clear — the soul stone meant to capture the god’s divinity had been taken from him, along with the rest of his possessions aside from the clothes on his back when he’d been thrown behind bars. The intention for the assassination was not hidden — and why else would Cazador be so adamant about ending the god? The devil was not subtle about his resentment of Taliesin, who held dominion over the entire realm — including ‘his’ Frostland.

“I see,” the lord murmured, as Astarion took another deep breath. It was nonsensical to even question the god’s interrogation, though. He was prodding and poking for something.

“Did you know, Fool, that your craven master had endeavored to assassinate me — desperately, I might add — for centuries before giving up and sending expendable little demons like you to try and do what he can not, and never will. So I commend you, Fool! You're the first of his flock that has ever come close to fulfilling his laughable dream. Good fucking job!” Taliesin’s wrathful voice reverberated sinisterly through the immense chamber as his diatribe ended, causing Astarion to flinch and flatten his ears against the painful echo before a deafening stillness fell upon the room.

His eyes continued to follow the streaks of gray in the marble, and the frost demon’s heart pounded out of his chest as he waited for something to happen — anything.

There were eight branches on one vein, and one of those veins held capillaries of another eight.

A killing blow, a word of death, racking pain, or the promise of eternal suffering — anything. But seconds wavered into minutes, and minutes turned into what felt like an eternity — and there was only lingering, dreadful silence.

If he wasn't so close to the veins, his eyes would adjust and he could probably see even more jagged branches coming off of the capillaries.

He did not want to die, the gods and devils only knew that he did not want to die! But this fraught suspense would surely end him, and perhaps that would be okay. He couldn’t be damned if he’d just go ahead and die of terror, right?

How many veins of gray streaked the marble in this immense throneroom? The branches would outnumber the stars, surely…

“What to do with you, what to do?” the god said finally, startling Astarion back into the moment as the sound of footsteps made their way toward him. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting tears as sweat continued to drip from his clammy brow, and the footfall stopped just before his pitiful hunkered frame.

“Look up at me.”

Astarion raptly obeyed, lifting himself from his deep bow to stare up wide-eyed at the god. Despite his short stature, he was, without a doubt, the most intimidating creature that Astarion had ever witnessed. There was an aura of intensity swirling about him, furious and radiant in its command, and Astarion’s body began to tremble in response.

Taliesin stepped closer, standing above Astarion with his arms crossed over his partially bare chest before he bent at the waist to get a better look at the demon, leaning in so that he could see every freckle on his divine face, the delicate ring on the left side of his nose, his thick eyelashes surrounding… oh gods, his eyes…

It’d been too dark during the attack so he hadn’t noticed those horrible, wonderful eyes.

It was as if they contained the winter itself — molten silver flecks fluctuated and sparkled within pupilless irises of shadow, deep fuschia tinted — no, aubergine… then indigo. The colors continuously shifted like fog within black onyx — mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure.

Despite Astarion’s fear, he couldn’t help but find himself in awe of the divine beauty that Taliesin possessed as he tilted that lovely, timeless face, studying the demon with pinched features — as if he was observing something foul and small. Nothing more than vermin. Less than vermin.

"I could make you serve me for a decade or ten — centuries even! Or I could change you to a carrion crow, damned be your wings for I would pluck and cage you. Then you could never attempt to end me again," the god said, thumbing his chin and tilting his head to the side in a deviously playful way that sent a fresh shiver of trepidation down Astarion’s spine to the tip of his tail. Taliesin's face brightened as if he’d suddenly realized something wildly profound, and his large, frilled ears perked up, sending his many earrings jingling as he cocked an eyebrow. "But by all rights, I should kill you, send you to exist eternally in the Frozen Blight. Yes?"

Astarion’s thrumming heart skipped a beat as his stomach sank nauseatingly. That was it. That was the name of that damnable hell that he was bound for at any moment.

“Yes,” the demon whispered in reluctant agreement, ears lowering in defeat. As much as he hated to admit it, he should be killed for this transgression. There was no way of talking himself out of this one — he’d held the poisoned dagger to Talisin’s throat. An indignant, stray tear ran down his cheek as the god clicked his tongue.

"I suppose that I’ve decided a proper judgment for you, then," the lord finally announced, his tone barely above a whisper as he placed the back of his thumb under Astarion's chin, raising the demon's face to stare at him even closer — perhaps to get a good look at the person he was about to damn for eternity, or perhaps it was to relish in his abject horror and humiliation. The frost demon's lip quivered as those hauntingly beautiful eyes bored into his, and his mind shattered in terror as they instantaneously went entirely silver.

Gods and devils, this was it.

This truly was the end.

Astarion's gaze remained locked with Taliesin’s for moments or centuries — he could not be sure, and to his astonishment dilated pupils appeared as the irises imperceptibly changed to a muddy purple — soft and…. sweet? The god smiled, lopsided and sheepish as the iron shackles binding the demon grew uncomfortably frigid before they began to loosen in a flurry of mist.

Astarion was dumbfounded. Was this some sort of sick game? What in the godsdamned hells was happening?

"I must apologize in advance, demon — for this is going to hurt," the god of winter said in a genuinely apologetic tone, and Astarion's mouth fell agape as his shackles clattered deafeningly to the stone floor.

His eyes flashed an unsettling silver once more, and Astarion flinched as the god gently cupped his cheeks in his hands — hands that were far warmer than the demon had expected — and he was suddenly enveloped in the same gently swirling mist that had released his fetters moments earlier.

Taliesin bent in even closer to Astarion in a strikingly intimate way — almost as if he was going to kiss him — causing his heart to skip a beat as the compelling scent of cedarwood, rose and black pepper flooded his senses. His skin prickled as the god passed up his lips to whisper into his ear, his breath cold and mint and tantalizing...

“Witness me,” Taliesin whispered, and Astarion experienced sudden, blinding white light and harrowing pain encircling his throat.

Astarion’s stomach tightened into a ball as excruciating tendrils of agony crawled over the tender flesh of his neck, searing and stinging as his nerve ends were set sickeningly alight. He could not move to claw at the affliction nor could he scream in horror, for he could not catch his breath or gather his mind to do so. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his knees gave out, and his existence was naught but torment. He could not take it anymore — there was no way he could withstand this suffering, gods … there was simply no way!

Words in a language he did not know came from somewhere far, far away before he heard the common tongue spoken once more — ‘I’m truly sorry’, it said, as his vision ceased entirely, and then there was no sound at all. There was no sense of smell or any more pain, no enveloping cold or the warm hands of a god — there was only darkness.

[snowfolly]

❄️☃️❄️

Thaaank you Vix! I’ve got so many ideas for it and I’m really hoping it’s going to be a super fun, silly sexy story (and in hindsight I probably shouldn’t have made it so dark to start out with but it’ll be fine 😂)

(Also bc the link to ao3 didn’t work above I’m dropping it here)

A Silver Tapestry

Chapter 1: The Wrath of God

After the ice demon, Astarion, attempts to assassinate a god for his master, he finds himself bound, once again, to yet another deity.

His punishment is to serve the God of Winter for a time unknown to him, and his hours are filled with mundane tasks until the day that the god, Taliesin, asks the demon to spar with him.

Sparring leads to something much more than daggers at held other another’s throat, and they must learn to navigate romance with restraint as they fall hopelessly in love. However, all is not perfect, as Astarion must be freed from Cazador's grip before the time on Taliesin's binding curse is up, or he will have to return to the devil — which will not only tear him away from his divine lover, but certainly result in his death.

Taliesin must move carefully to avoid letting the entire winter realm, and perhaps the entire world, fall to ruins for the sake of liberating his beloved.

Or

A love story about a god and the demon that tried to murder him.

(Expect Whimsy)

CW: Violence, Pain (Astarion is Punished for attempted murder and has a bad time.)

Read on ao3 Here

-

Astarion’s stomach twisted into a sick knot of dread as he was led shackled and shambling to gaze wide-eyed upon the face of a god — one that he had tried rather unsuccessfully to murder only hours prior.

Early morning daylight softly backlit a wall of snow, which was falling steadily in an open space behind the lord of the winter realm. It threw his throne into partial shadow as motes of mage light drifted around his darkened form, bathing him in an ominous cerulean glow.

The god sighed dramatically, sprawled across his throne in an absurdly casual position — his legs dangled lackadaisically off of one onyx armrest as his elbow laid on the other; he propped his head on his hand as he regarded Astarion — who he clearly thought to be no more than a pissant — with weary disinterest.

Astarion swallowed dryly, realizing the god couldn’t even be bothered to sit up straight to judge him for his crime, lowly frost demon that he was… and this did not bode well.

At all.

“On your knees,” the deity murmured as the wall of snow behind him abruptly gusted into the room with an intense howling rush.

It whorled around Astarion from the ground up, and he gasped as the air was violently snatched from his lungs by a wind so frigid that he was certain they'd be ruined to ice. Cold typically didn’t bother him, not like this — he was a godsdamned frost demon, after all — but this was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. It was freezing torment, sending his entire body to chills and causing him to panic as he closed his eyes and struggled to breathe.

Was this it? Would he not even be able to speak to the deity before he died? Was this to be his end? He’d known this was a futile task, but he hadn’t had a choice! Cazador had commanded him, it wasn’t fair, but it never was…

“Fall to your knees, demon,” the god repeated with more vitriol and less tedium in his tone as Astarion’s eyes flew open to realize that the assaulting blizzard had been halted as quickly as it had been set upon him — and yet somehow he remained standing. Before he could properly gather his senses, the gauntlet-laden hands of godsknights unceremoniously grabbed at his shoulders, forcing him to fall to his knees with a sickening crack and bend low in prostration before their lord.

Astarion wasn’t at all sure how he could perspire after being nearly frozen alive, but a drop of sweat fell from the demon’s brow before it froze in midair. The tiny pellet of ice clinked against the marble floor and he took a deep breath to still himself, casting his eyes down as his mind raced, attempting to fathom a way out of the rather bleak situation at hand.

It was a rather futile attempt.

There was simply no way he could escape. He had no weapon — nor would he be able to use one if he did — his hands were bound tightly behind his back, and his ankles were tethered just as securely. His magic had also been dispelled so he could use no incantation to attack or remove his iron shackles, and even so, what chance did he stand against two armed knights and a god? He grit his teeth, for he had not a snowball’s chance in the summer realm.

This undignified moment was likely to be the last in his pathetic life — and pathetic though it was — he did not want it to end. He was not ready to die. Especially not like this!

At least in the pitiful life he led under Cazador he could still hold onto hope… but being damned by a god wouldn’t even allow him that meager respite. His soul would be lost forever to wander in the shadow hell. Darkness would become him, he would feel no passion, no joy, or hope — only the agony of biting cold and sorrow, of endless loss and shadows. Forever.

Astarion had come close enough to assassinating the divine being before him, and he had no choice but to face any punishment that the lord saw fit — and the frozen hell, grim as it was, was a likely outcome…

“Wake up!” The god said, snapping his fingers as Astarion’s eyes darted up once more to face the source of his inevitable end.

“Assassin! I was going to ask your name but that matters not, foul creature such as you are. Pray tell though, Fool — what daft bastard sent you to murder a god?” the deity asked contemptuously, still not deeming it worth his time to move from his lounging position. Astarion swallowed nervously before he cleared his throat to speak. He knew that the god knew exactly who had sent him, but alas…

“The Lord of Ice…”

“Oh my! You’d be clever to address me by my title, Fool,” the god said in annoyance as he flicked his wrist dismissively, and one of the knights roughly pressed the butt of his spear into the back of Astarion’s neck, forcing him to bow lower before their liege.

His title, though? This god had many monikers… Lord of Snow, Your Resplendence, Your Magnificence, God of the Winter Realm, Taliesin — so on and so forth.

If the situation wasn’t so dire he’d come up with more interesting epithets, but it’d be more shrewd to try and weasel himself out of eternal damnation. It would likely do him no favor in the end, but Astarion figured it would be best to grovel, kiss a bit of ass and address several of the lord’s stupid titles.

“Resplendent Lord of Snow, God of the Winter Realm, Taliesin,” Astarion managed in a quavering voice as the godsknight gave him another smarting blow on the back of his neck, causing Astarion’s crystalline horns to knock painfully against the marble floor. He felt one crack and he grimaced as some shards of it fell, tinkling like broken glass near his eye. “The Lord of Ice and keeper of the Frostlands, Cazador, my m… master, sent me.”

“To what end?”

“Well… to slay you,” Astarion said in confusion. Just what in the lower hells were Taliesin’s motives? The deity already knew this information, why was he posing questions as if he did not? Was it all simply to humiliate Astarion further?

“Damned devil. What have I done to slight Cazador this time? I extended my goodwill to him, inviting him to my little fete for the first time in centuries and he couldn’t even be arsed to make an appearance!” The god scoffed. “Is it a coincidence, Fool, that he sent an assassin on the same night?”

Of course it wasn’t.

“My master saw… well — he saw the invite as an insult, Your Resplendence. He’d said the summon to dine and be merry with a sworn enemy was the… the height of disresp…”

“Naturally he would, the fuckwit,” the god said sharply, cutting Astarion off. The demon stared blankly at the floor which lay scarcely an inch below his nose. His tail flicked anxiously as his eyes followed the veins of gray streaking haphazardly through the white marble, and he realized that this could be the last thing he’d ever see. How pathetically glum…

“What does Cazador wish to accomplish by sending a lowly demon to try and kill me? Again. Any thoughts on that rather preposterous maneuver, expendable one?”

Astarion knew that his master had sent many other demons to attempt to end Taliesin’s life in the past, well before his forced servitude, but none of those failed assassins had ever returned to his master’s keep. Cazador’s motivations were just as much of a mystery — what did he wish to accomplish, sending them to die?

“I do not know his intentions for those he sent in failed attempts on your life in years past, Your Resplendence. He ah… my master simply gave me the order to take your life,” Astarion said, recalling that the devil had gone nearly mad with rage since he’d gotten the invitation months prior. Rants regarding Cazador’s hatred for Taliesin were nothing unusual, but the tirades had gotten more and more frequent in the weeks leading up to the event.

The devil would often take his anger out on his imps and demons, throwing bottles of wine at them, having them whipped… and well, torturing them one way or another. Even if Astarion was sent back to his master, his fate would likely not be much better than the one he now faced. Cazador also had the capability of damning his soldiers and servants, casting them into the shadows — he’d seen it done to a steward once, and it certainly was not a pleasant end.

“Did he wish for you to take my life in an attempt to steal my full divinity?”

“Y… yes,” Astarion stammered. He thought that motive was clear — the soul stone meant to capture the god’s divinity had been taken from him, along with the rest of his possessions aside from the clothes on his back when he’d been thrown behind bars. The intention for the assassination was not hidden — and why else would Cazador be so adamant about ending the god? The devil was not subtle about his resentment of Taliesin, who held dominion over the entire realm — including ‘his’ Frostland.

“I see,” the lord murmured, as Astarion took another deep breath. It was nonsensical to even question the god’s interrogation, though. He was prodding and poking for something.

“Did you know, Fool, that your craven master had endeavored to assassinate me — desperately, I might add — for centuries before giving up and sending expendable little demons like you to try and do what he can not, and never will. So I commend you, Fool! You're the first of his flock that has ever come close to fulfilling his laughable dream. Good fucking job!” Taliesin’s wrathful voice reverberated sinisterly through the immense chamber as his diatribe ended, causing Astarion to flinch and flatten his ears against the painful echo before a deafening stillness fell upon the room.

His eyes continued to follow the streaks of gray in the marble, and the frost demon’s heart pounded out of his chest as he waited for something to happen — anything.

There were eight branches on one vein, and one of those veins held capillaries of another eight.

A killing blow, a word of death, racking pain, or the promise of eternal suffering — anything. But seconds wavered into minutes, and minutes turned into what felt like an eternity — and there was only lingering, dreadful silence.

If he wasn't so close to the veins, his eyes would adjust and he could probably see even more jagged branches coming off of the capillaries.

He did not want to die, the gods and devils only knew that he did not want to die! But this fraught suspense would surely end him, and perhaps that would be okay. He couldn’t be damned if he’d just go ahead and die of terror, right?

How many veins of gray streaked the marble in this immense throneroom? The branches would outnumber the stars, surely…

“What to do with you, what to do?” the god said finally, startling Astarion back into the moment as the sound of footsteps made their way toward him. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting tears as sweat continued to drip from his clammy brow, and the footfall stopped just before his pitiful hunkered frame.

“Look up at me.”

Astarion raptly obeyed, lifting himself from his deep bow to stare up wide-eyed at the god. Despite his short stature, he was, without a doubt, the most intimidating creature that Astarion had ever witnessed. There was an aura of intensity swirling about him, furious and radiant in its command, and Astarion’s body began to tremble in response.

Taliesin stepped closer, standing above Astarion with his arms crossed over his partially bare chest before he bent at the waist to get a better look at the demon, leaning in so that he could see every freckle on his divine face, the delicate ring on the left side of his nose, his thick eyelashes surrounding… oh gods, his eyes…

It’d been too dark during the attack so he hadn’t noticed those horrible, wonderful eyes.

It was as if they contained the winter itself — molten silver flecks fluctuated and sparkled within pupilless irises of shadow, deep fuschia tinted — no, aubergine… then indigo. The colors continuously shifted like fog within black onyx — mesmerizing and terrifying in equal measure.

Despite Astarion’s fear, he couldn’t help but find himself in awe of the divine beauty that Taliesin possessed as he tilted that lovely, timeless face, studying the demon with pinched features — as if he was observing something foul and small. Nothing more than vermin. Less than vermin.

"I could make you serve me for a decade or ten — centuries even! Or I could change you to a carrion crow, damned be your wings for I would pluck and cage you. Then you could never attempt to end me again," the god said, thumbing his chin and tilting his head to the side in a deviously playful way that sent a fresh shiver of trepidation down Astarion’s spine to the tip of his tail. Taliesin's face brightened as if he’d suddenly realized something wildly profound, and his large, frilled ears perked up, sending his many earrings jingling as he cocked an eyebrow. "But by all rights, I should kill you, send you to exist eternally in the Frozen Blight. Yes?"

Astarion’s thrumming heart skipped a beat as his stomach sank nauseatingly. That was it. That was the name of that damnable hell that he was bound for at any moment.

“Yes,” the demon whispered in reluctant agreement, ears lowering in defeat. As much as he hated to admit it, he should be killed for this transgression. There was no way of talking himself out of this one — he’d held the poisoned dagger to Talisin’s throat. An indignant, stray tear ran down his cheek as the god clicked his tongue.

"I suppose that I’ve decided a proper judgment for you, then," the lord finally announced, his tone barely above a whisper as he placed the back of his thumb under Astarion's chin, raising the demon's face to stare at him even closer — perhaps to get a good look at the person he was about to damn for eternity, or perhaps it was to relish in his abject horror and humiliation. The frost demon's lip quivered as those hauntingly beautiful eyes bored into his, and his mind shattered in terror as they instantaneously went entirely silver.

Gods and devils, this was it.

This truly was the end.

Astarion's gaze remained locked with Taliesin’s for moments or centuries — he could not be sure, and to his astonishment dilated pupils appeared as the irises imperceptibly changed to a muddy purple — soft and…. sweet? The god smiled, lopsided and sheepish as the iron shackles binding the demon grew uncomfortably frigid before they began to loosen in a flurry of mist.

Astarion was dumbfounded. Was this some sort of sick game? What in the godsdamned hells was happening?

"I must apologize in advance, demon — for this is going to hurt," the god of winter said in a genuinely apologetic tone, and Astarion's mouth fell agape as his shackles clattered deafeningly to the stone floor.

His eyes flashed an unsettling silver once more, and Astarion flinched as the god gently cupped his cheeks in his hands — hands that were far warmer than the demon had expected — and he was suddenly enveloped in the same gently swirling mist that had released his fetters moments earlier.

Taliesin bent in even closer to Astarion in a strikingly intimate way — almost as if he was going to kiss him — causing his heart to skip a beat as the compelling scent of cedarwood, rose and black pepper flooded his senses. His skin prickled as the god passed up his lips to whisper into his ear, his breath cold and mint and tantalizing...

“Witness me,” Taliesin whispered, and Astarion experienced sudden, blinding white light and harrowing pain encircling his throat.

Astarion’s stomach tightened into a ball as excruciating tendrils of agony crawled over the tender flesh of his neck, searing and stinging as his nerve ends were set sickeningly alight. He could not move to claw at the affliction nor could he scream in horror, for he could not catch his breath or gather his mind to do so. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his knees gave out, and his existence was naught but torment. He could not take it anymore — there was no way he could withstand this suffering, gods … there was simply no way!

Words in a language he did not know came from somewhere far, far away before he heard the common tongue spoken once more — ‘I’m truly sorry’, it said, as his vision ceased entirely, and then there was no sound at all. There was no sense of smell or any more pain, no enveloping cold or the warm hands of a god — there was only darkness.