#halsin hurt/comfort

[girlwithadragonheart]

Thinking about Halsin again.

Thinking about looking at him with desperation and despair and him knowing that you just need someone to take the load off of you for one second just so you can breathe.

Thinking about him seeing that look on your face and just sweeping you up in his arms, wrapped up and safe. One thick arm around your shoulders, the other around your waist, hand gripping your hip.

You bury your face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder as he’s bent down to your height. Taking a deep breath of that earthy calming scent with hints of lavender (that he only started keeping for your stress levels).

Anyone else would let go after thirty seconds but not Halsin, no, he just holds onto you. He just wraps you up in the safety blanket that is his arms and keeps you there as long as you’re holding onto him. And you don’t let go either. Your hands bunch up in his tunic, and he presses soft lips to your hair.

You stay like that until your heart rate slows and your breathing evens out. Only then do you carefully let go of him.

He gently sets you steadily on your feet, standing back up to full height. His large palm cups your cheek delicately. Those mossy green eyes gaze at you with all the warmth in Faerûn.

Carefully, he leans down again, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Be steady, my heart. Know that you are not alone in this. None of us are.”

[malacandrax]

Caretaker Yenna :').

[larsisfrommars]

Halsin Whump Audio

BG3 Soundboard of Suffering part 1

Gale (part 2)

No HP/Entangled/Immobilized

Effort and Heavy Breathing

Encounter With Orin

Taking Damage/Death Screams/Falling

Shudders, Moans, Groans

Coughing & Gasping

Crying

[moonselune]

Based off events happening to me today:

Tav feeling super anxious for no reason and spiralling and they don't know why and their partner trying to help?

Please

Aw bless, i know this was sent a while ago but I hope things are okay xox

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

The night was still, the kind of deep silence that should have felt soothing, wrapped in Karlach’s warmth and the safety of her arms. But tonight, the silence pressed on you, heavy and smothering, like a dark tide rising in your chest. Karlach had already drifted off beside you, one arm draped protectively across you as if even in sleep she wanted to keep you close, shield you.

You tried to breathe through it, tried to focus on the feeling of her arm, the softness of her skin against yours. But each inhale grew tighter, your chest clenching, until it felt like your lungs were refusing to open. Heart pounding, you clenched the sheets in your fists, trembling, as the world around you blurred and closed in, warping until you couldn’t tell up from down, awake from dreaming.

The sound of your labored breaths must have pulled Karlach from her sleep, because her eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep until they landed on you and filled with immediate concern.

“Hey…hey, babe, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice low and soothing, though you could hear the edge of worry she tried to mask. Her hand, warm and steady, came up to your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin. “You’re shaking, love—talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You tried to speak, to respond with something reassuring, anything that would tell her you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The walls felt like they were closing in, your vision tunneling, and you couldn’t look away from Karlach, from her face. She was here, with you, yet you felt like you were slipping away.

Karlach’s brows knitted together, her own chest tightening with helplessness. She’d faced countless enemies, survived the hellscape of Avernus, and yet here—watching you crumble in front of her—she didn’t know what to do. Her hand moved to clasp yours, fingers intertwining tightly as though she could anchor you back to reality.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice firmer now, taking on the same tone she’d use in battle, one she knew you trusted. “Breathe with me, okay? Just…try to match my breath. In and out. You’ve got this.”

You tried, focusing on her, on the gentle rhythm of her breathing, but it felt like you were trapped in a storm, and the calm Karlach offered was just out of reach. She watched you, distress clear in her expression as she realized her words weren’t getting through, and the soft crackle of her engine, the familiar hum, only made the quiet around you seem louder.

“Dammit,” she whispered, voice wavering. “I’m here, alright? Whatever’s got you like this, I’m right here.” She pulled you closer, wrapping her arms tightly around you, burying her face into your hair as if she could absorb some of the weight pressing down on you. “You’re safe. I swear it. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not if I’m here.”

Her presence, so solid and unyielding, cut through the fear just enough to let you take a shuddering breath, her warmth seeping into you like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Her fingers traced comforting circles against your back, and she murmured soft, nonsensical reassurances, the kind of quiet comforts she’d never shared with anyone before you.

“You don’t have to talk,” she whispered, though the waver in her voice told you she desperately wished she knew what was happening in your mind. “Just…squeeze my hand, okay? Let me know you’re still here with me.”

With a shaky breath, you did, your fingers trembling but firm enough as you held onto her. Her eyes softened, filling with relief as she gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return.

“You’re not alone in this,” she continued, her voice barely above a murmur. “Whatever’s in your head… I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words, grounding and soothing, began to penetrate through the fog of your mind, the relentless weight lifting bit by bit. Karlach pressed her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your face as she matched her breathing to yours, syncing your uneven gasps with her steady inhales. Each breath felt a little easier, her warmth and steady presence like an anchor pulling you back from the depths.

Minutes passed, and gradually, the panic ebbed, the tightness in your chest loosening as you took in her scent, the comfort of her closeness. She stayed with you, patient and unwavering, until you felt the storm inside finally begin to calm.

When you looked up at her, her eyes were full of worry, tinged with guilt as though she could’ve done more.

“Are you…feeling any better?” she asked, brushing a hand through your hair, voice gentle. You nodded, squeezing her hand as you gave her a shaky smile, trying to reassure her.

“Thank you, Karlach,” you whispered, your voice still unsteady. “I…don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled, though there was a vulnerability in her gaze, the depth of her worry for you still lingering. “You don’t have to know,” she said softly, pulling you close again. “Because I’m always going to be here.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The anxiety came on suddenly, like a wave crashing over you, quick and relentless, stealing the air from your lungs. Your thoughts spun out of control, a tangled mess of doubts, worries, and fears, each one feeding off the last, building into something you couldn’t escape. You felt trapped inside your own head, barely aware of your surroundings, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps. Your hands shook as you gripped the edge of the table, fighting to anchor yourself to something solid.

Minthara had been beside you moments before, going over plans for the night’s camp watch, her calm, steely focus grounding in its own way. But as she turned back to you, her face changed. The sharpness in her gaze softened ever so slightly, concern bleeding through the cracks of her usual impassive mask.

“What is wrong?” Her voice was low, steady—meant to command, to cut through confusion. But the tone only made your pulse race faster, your mind recoiling from the idea of appearing weak before her.

“Nothing,” you managed to choke out, but it was obvious you were lying, and she wasn’t one to suffer dishonesty lightly.

“Don’t lie to me,” she bit out, but you could tell her voice was more uncertain than sharp. She reached out a hand, her fingers hesitant, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with the display of vulnerability before her. Minthara was a force, a warrior who understood battlefields, strategy, survival. But this—the swirling, choking darkness you felt—wasn’t something she could simply attack head-on, and that realization seemed to unsettle her.

She watched as you struggled to control your breathing, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Speak to me,” she said again, more insistently this time, almost as if ordering you to snap out of it.

You could barely hear her over the racing thoughts in your head, each more overwhelming than the last. Anxiety had taken root deep inside you, and no amount of her demanding tone or even her solid presence could shake it loose.

“I—I can’t,” you managed, voice barely more than a whisper.

Minthara’s frustration grew, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze flickering around the room as though looking for something tangible she could fight, something she could fix. But there was nothing there, nothing to direct her fury at.

“This… fear,” she said finally, the word tasting foreign and strange in her mouth. “I don’t understand it. It has no shape, no sense. You’re strong; why can’t you just… dismiss it?” Her tone was more questioning than chastising, but you still flinched, the ache of not being understood cutting deeper.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, closing your eyes, trying to block out her piercing gaze. The words you wanted to say fell short, each attempt at an explanation slipping through your fingers. “It’s not that simple, Minthara. I can’t just will it away.”

For a moment, she stood there, silent, wrestling with her own irritation and helplessness. Her fists clenched at her sides, jaw tense. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she closed the distance between you, placing her hands on your shoulders in a grip that was firm, grounding.

“Look at me,” she ordered, and you forced yourself to meet her gaze, even as your mind continued to spin. “You are here. Right here, with me.” Her voice softened, but just barely, a rough edge of vulnerability breaking through. “There is no battle now, no foe to fight—only this moment.”

The warmth of her hands, the solidity of her presence, pulled you back, anchoring you even as you felt yourself slipping away. Her eyes held yours with a determination that cut through some of the fog, her grip on you a reminder that you weren’t alone.

“Focus on my voice, on my touch,” she murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration as she struggled to find the right words. “Breathe with me.”

You tried, inhaling deeply to match the steady rise and fall of her own breathing. The rhythm was grounding, a tether pulling you back toward something real, something outside of the chaos in your head.

“Minthara… I’m sorry,” you whispered, guilt flooding in as the worst of the panic ebbed, leaving exhaustion in its place. “I didn’t mean to… drag you into this.”

She huffed, shaking her head as her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“I don’t need your apologies,” she replied, her tone gruff but with a warmth hidden beneath. “Just… tell me how to help you next time. If there is a way.”

You nodded, her words a balm against the ache in your chest. “This… was enough.”

She scoffed lightly, but her lips softened into the barest hint of a smile. “Good.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The world around you feels tight, claustrophobic, like it's closing in with each passing moment. Every sound is sharp, too loud, and every breath feels short, strained, as though you're inhaling smoke. You try to ground yourself, to focus on something—anything—but the rush of thoughts is relentless, tangling together, louder, and louder, until—

"Vlakith's eyes, what is wrong with you?"

Lae'zel's voice breaks through the noise, her tone sharp with annoyance, and though it's a familiar sound, it only heightens the chaos in your mind. You glance up at her, barely able to meet her gaze, your hands gripping the edges of your cloak tightly, knuckles white. Your vision swims, and there's something vulnerable, exposed, in your look that catches her off-guard. She crosses her arms, brow furrowing deeply.

"What has brought you to this pathetic state?" she demands, though her tone carries a slight edge of uncertainty. Lae'zel isn't used to this, to seeing you so unsteady. Her impatience seems almost protective, like she's annoyed that she can't simply strike down whatever is plaguing you.

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come. Your throat feels constricted, tight, and suddenly, your chest aches, like you're being crushed from the inside. Your heart races, and it’s hard to keep your breathing steady. Each attempt to explain feels pointless, small words incapable of conveying the tangle inside you.

"Lae'zel, I—" you start, but your voice cracks, and you feel a pang of embarrassment. You look away, frustration mingling with the turmoil inside, and that only makes everything worse.

Lae'zel huffs, her usual directness faltering. You see the familiar tension in her jaw, the slight narrowing of her eyes as she looks at you with something close to confusion, maybe even worry.

"Are you injured? Poisoned?" she asks, her gaze flickering over you as though searching for some sign of physical harm. "Speak, or have you lost your tongue as well?"

Your breaths come quicker, shallower, and Lae'zel's frustration intensifies. She reaches out, her hand hovering over your shoulder, fingers twitching with restrained force. She’s trying to understand, trying to solve this the way she would a problem on the battlefield, yet it's clear she has no idea what to do.

"Lae'zel," you manage, voice barely a whisper. "I—I can't—" The words crumble into silence, and you turn away, feeling an overwhelming need to escape, to be anywhere but here.

But she doesn’t let you. Instead, she steps in front of you, her figure imposing, her expression a mix of irritation and something else, something softer that she would never acknowledge out loud.

"Cease this nonsense," she orders, her tone still sharp. "You are stronger than this. Why are you allowing yourself to be reduced to a trembling wretch?"

You can see her impatience clashing with her own helplessness, the unease in her gaze as she watches you struggle. She wants to fix it, to fight it, but anxiety isn’t an enemy she can face with her blade.

"Lae'zel, I don’t… I don’t know what to do," you finally admit, feeling the words rush out in a painful confession. "Everything feels like—like it’s too much. I can't… I can’t stop it."

Her expression softens, if only slightly, as she processes your words. Her hand hesitantly comes to rest on your shoulder, her grip firm, grounding. She sighs, exasperated, but there’s a trace of something else, a rare tenderness lurking beneath her frustration.

"This… weakness of yours," she mutters, her gaze piercing but not unkind, "it will not conquer you. You are stronger than this."

You swallow, looking down, but her hand tightens on your shoulder, commanding your attention.

"I do not know how to battle something that lives only in your mind," she admits, voice low, almost reluctant. "But I will not let it claim you."

The honesty in her words, the sincerity that she rarely shares, cuts through the haze. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to help, but she’s here, and she’s not backing away.

"Look at me," she says, her voice softer, less an order and more a plea. "You are not alone, do you hear me? You are… mine." She pauses, the weight of that admission hanging in the air, her hand moving to clasp the back of your neck, fingers steadying.

You nod, taking a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension ease under her touch. Her hand remains firm, anchoring you, and though her expression remains stern, there’s a glimmer of understanding in her eyes.

"If this… feeling attempts to overtake you again," she says, struggling with the words, "know that I am here. And I will not let you fall."

Her words, her strength, they begin to ground you, to steady the spiraling thoughts. It’s not perfect, and she’s still as impatient and brash as ever, but in her own way, she’s offering you solace.

"Thank you," you manage, voice trembling but genuine. Lae'zel huffs, her hand leaving your shoulder with an awkward pat.

"Yes, well, see that you regain your senses soon," she mutters, though her eyes linger on yours, holding a warmth that belies her gruffness.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

The evening had started peacefully, with you and Shadowheart sharing a quiet moment by the fire, watching embers flicker against the backdrop of the starlit sky. Shadows from the flames danced across her face, lending her beauty a mysterious, ethereal quality. She was curled against you, her head on your shoulder, fingers intertwined with yours, her touch warm and steady. But somewhere in the calm, a ripple of unease began to grow, small and sharp, turning slowly into a twisting, thorny mass of thoughts in your chest.

At first, you tried to ignore it, keeping your breath steady, your hand still wrapped around hers. But the familiar pressure started to mount, your heart drumming an erratic rhythm in your chest, thoughts racing faster than you could tether them. Each breath seemed to get shorter, constricted, your mind and body spiraling in sync.

Shadowheart noticed the change, her fingers stilling in yours as she looked up at you.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice soft, but laced with growing concern.

You tried to nod, tried to answer her, but words lodged themselves in your throat, and a stifling silence stretched out instead. The familiar symptoms crept over you—sweat beading on your forehead, heart hammering, mind racing in a flurry of worst-case scenarios and creeping fears you couldn’t explain. You closed your eyes, trying to drown out the overwhelming rush of it all.

“Hey… look at me.” Shadowheart’s voice was a steady anchor, but even that felt distant, unreachable. She tightened her hold on your hand, shifting to face you fully, her expression growing more worried by the second. “You’re not all right, are you?”

There was a helplessness in her gaze, a deep, worried line creasing her forehead. Shadowheart was no stranger to combat, to wounds and battle scars—but this was different. She couldn’t simply fight off whatever was holding you hostage.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she whispered, squeezing your hand, her other hand reaching to cup your cheek. “Please, tell me how to help you.”

The words barely registered. Your mind was racing too fast, filled with an overwhelming wave of dread and nameless anxieties that seemed to suffocate you from within. Your breath grew shallower, panic clawing at the edges of your awareness. You felt untethered, as though you were floating far from your own body, lost in a sea of dread.

“I… I don’t…” you stammered, struggling to find something, anything to ground yourself.

Shadowheart’s eyes widened, and her hand on your cheek grew firmer, more determined.

“I’m right here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a fierce, protective tone. “Look at me. Just focus on me. Forget everything else.”

But focus seemed impossible, your thoughts spiraling faster and faster, like being caught in a current you couldn’t swim against. You clutched at her hand like a lifeline, but even that felt like it was slipping away, your mind lost in a haze of fear and helplessness.

Shadowheart’s breath hitched, her distress evident.

“I don’t know how to help, but I’m not leaving you,” she whispered, her voice laced with a tremor of frustration—at herself, at this intangible enemy pulling you away from her. “Please, just… keep holding onto me. Try to breathe with me, okay?”

She brought her forehead to rest against yours, closing her eyes, and began to breathe in slow, measured counts, her breaths steady, an anchor in the chaos. She kept her hand on your cheek, her fingers tracing gentle circles against your skin, grounding you in the feeling of her warmth, the solid reality of her presence.

For a long time, you remained caught in the grip of panic, but Shadowheart didn’t waver. She continued to hold you, her voice a constant murmur of reassurance.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe,” she repeated softly, her thumb brushing gently across your cheek. And slowly, so slowly, you began to feel the weight lifting, your breaths aligning with hers, each inhale and exhale pulling you a little closer to the present.

When your breathing finally slowed, the panic ebbing to a dull throb, you opened your eyes, meeting her gaze. Her face was etched with relief and lingering worry, her own breaths still steady but shallow, as if she had been holding them alongside you.

“There you are,” she whispered, a faint smile touching her lips. Her fingers lingered on your cheek, her thumb brushing softly across your skin. “I didn’t know how to help, but… I’m glad you stayed with me.”

You managed a nod, exhausted but grateful, letting her presence soothe you as the last remnants of fear melted away. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, and the weight of her love and care filled the hollow spaces where panic had once dwelled.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

The night was still, the crackling of the campfire softened by a light breeze, but it was doing nothing to calm the spiraling chaos in your mind. Your chest was tight, and your breaths came shallow and quick, as if you couldn’t pull in enough air, couldn’t hold enough of it to ground yourself. Panic wrapped its relentless grip around you, twisting with each racing thought. Everything felt unbearably close, as though the walls of the night itself were pressing in on you.

Jaheira had been sitting beside you by the fire, recounting stories of her travels, her words lulling you to a quiet peace until the wave had started to take over. She turned to you, her face creasing with worry as she noticed the change, her warm expression shifting to one of sharp concern.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her tone soft, hands reaching toward yours.

You tried to nod, tried to ground yourself in her gaze, but the pressure in your chest only grew tighter. The world felt unreal, and no matter how much you fought it, your mind kept spiraling—thoughts blending together, fears and memories piling up until everything was a tangled mess of what-ifs and impossible scenarios.

Jaheira’s eyes widened, realizing something was deeply wrong. Her hands, usually so steady and controlled, trembled as she gently cupped your face.

“Look at me,” she urged, her voice gentle but laced with urgency. “Breathe, alright? Slow breaths. Focus on my voice.”

Her hands were warm, grounding in a way, but even her touch couldn’t completely pull you back. Every fiber of you was fighting to calm down, to ease the storm in your mind, but each attempt felt like trying to grasp smoke. The panic felt endless, and you could see the worry deepen in Jaheira’s eyes as you struggled to respond.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” she murmured, her voice breaking slightly as she glanced around as if seeking an answer in the shadows of the trees. “Please, just… breathe with me, alright? We’ll get through this.”

Her distress tugged at you, piercing through the haze just enough to make you feel guilty for causing her pain, but even that seemed to add to the spiral. You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to fight back the rising tide of panic, but it was no use. The tighter you tried to hold on, the harder it was to breathe, and soon you were gasping, fingers digging into the ground as if holding on to something solid could somehow anchor you.

Jaheira shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you, pulling you tightly against her.

“Please, love, come back to me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m here. You’re safe. Just stay with me.”

There was a desperation in her tone that broke through, her words pressing into the heart of the storm inside you. She was grounding herself in trying to ground you, holding you with a fierce tenderness, her arms strong and unyielding, as if her very presence could keep the panic from consuming you whole. Her fingers gently traced patterns across your back, her breath steady and even as she held you close.

“You’re safe,” she repeated, each word soft and deliberate. “I know it feels overwhelming, but it will pass. Just focus on my voice. I’m right here.”

Little by little, her words began to take root, the pressure loosening in your chest as you leaned into her touch. She kept whispering softly, her words a steady thread that you latched onto, pulling yourself out of the spiral, inch by inch.

After a few minutes, the panic began to ebb, replaced by a heavy exhaustion. Jaheira’s hands never left you, her touch constant and reassuring, her fingers tracing gentle circles on your back as she pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

When you finally looked up, her face was tear-streaked, her expression full of relief and love.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice raw and shaky. Jaheira shook her head, a faint, tearful smile breaking through as she held you tighter.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she replied, her tone full of quiet conviction. “I’d face a thousand battles for you… I’ll face this one too. I don’t care how hard it is, how lost you feel. I’ll be here, every time.”

Her words sank in, a warmth settling in the hollow ache that the panic had left behind. You buried your face against her shoulder, letting her words, her presence, become your anchor.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

It started as a low tremor in your chest—a tiny thread of worry that, on most days, might pass unnoticed. But tonight, under the quiet candlelight and warmth of Gale’s study, it begins to unfurl, insidious, growing with every heartbeat until you’re barely breathing, barely aware of anything but the constriction in your chest, the overwhelming feeling that something is very wrong.

The book in your hands slips to the floor with a soft thud, but it sounds like a thunderclap to your frayed nerves. You clutch the edge of the armrest, struggling for air, unable to quite ground yourself in the room, in the moment.

“Hey… Are you alright?” Gale’s voice breaks through, sounding far off despite his closeness. You can hear the alarm creeping into his tone, and when he moves closer, kneeling beside you, his hands hover uncertainly in the air as though he’s afraid to touch you, unsure of what might help. "Talk to me. What's wrong?"

You want to answer, to say anything, but the words knot up in your throat. Each inhale feels like it could be your last, shallow and jagged, and all you can do is try to gasp for air that never seems to fully come.

Panic flickers in Gale's eyes, an emotion so rarely seen in him. He reaches out, gently brushing his fingers over your shoulder, and then, with more urgency, taking your hand in his.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, even though he’s clearly just as frightened. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You look at him, his face swimming in your vision, distorted by the intensity of your anxiety. A silent tear slips down your cheek, and the sight of it seems to make him crumble. Gale has seen you in battle, in moments of joy and sorrow, but this—this paralyzing, quiet fear—is something entirely new.

“I don’t know what to do, love,” he whispers, voice trembling as he brushes your hair back, his thumb grazing your cheek, catching another tear as it falls. “Just… tell me how to help.”

“I—” Your voice catches, barely a whisper, almost inaudible. “I don’t… I can’t…”

“I’m here,” he repeats, his words soft but determined. “You don’t have to go through this alone.” His hands find yours again, holding them firmly as though his touch alone might be enough to anchor you, to pull you back from the edge.

As the minutes pass, Gale settles beside you on the floor, crossing his legs, staying as close as he can without overwhelming you. His gaze doesn’t waver, fixed on you with a quiet intensity, like he’s willing his calmness to wash over you, to lend you even a sliver of the steadiness that you desperately need.

"Try to breathe with me, alright?" he says after a moment, keeping his voice steady and low, a soft, warm undertone that you can just barely latch onto. "One breath at a time. In, and then out. I’ll do it with you."

You try to focus on him, on the cadence of his words, the slow rhythm of his breathing as he inhales deeply and then lets it out in a slow, measured release. In and out. Over and over. And gradually, your breaths begin to mirror his, hesitant at first but then finding a shaky kind of sync.

Minutes pass in silence, with Gale whispering quiet reassurances, his fingers tracing soothing circles along the back of your hand. He stays close, his presence a grounding force, his warmth beginning to break through the fog.

When the weight in your chest finally begins to ease, your breaths evening out, Gale’s face softens, relief flashing in his eyes as he catches your gaze.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. “We’re alright.”

You nod, swallowing back a fresh wave of emotion, this time not from fear but from the tenderness in his voice, the unwavering patience in his gaze.

Gale raises a hand to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek, his own eyes glassy with tears of shared relief. "I was… so afraid," he admits, voice thick. "I’ve never seen you like this. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing."

“You did… just right,” you whisper, the words rough but sincere. You lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

He smiles softly, and the tension in his shoulders melts, replaced by an aching tenderness. “Anytime you need, I’ll be here,” he says. “For as long as you want me.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The night air was heavy, pressing in as you sat by the dying embers of the campfire, your chest tight and breaths shallow. You weren’t even sure when the panic had crept in, only that it was there now, spreading like wildfire. The familiar, suffocating weight of anxiety had taken root, pushing thoughts out of control and magnifying every minor fear into something insurmountable.

Astarion was the first to notice, his usual playful smirk replaced by a look of deepening concern. He took a step closer, his sharp eyes studying you as if searching for some sign he could decipher. You could tell he was trying to mask his worry, but his brow was furrowed, and his hands fidgeted by his sides.

"Love?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with tension. "What's happening? What’s… what’s wrong?"

You tried to respond, but your throat felt closed, as if something tangible were lodged there, blocking any words from escaping. Your mind was awash with racing thoughts, each one louder and more pressing than the last, spiraling faster and faster until you felt lost in the noise.

Astarion reached out, hesitating as though unsure of what to do or how to help, his hand hovering before finally resting lightly on your shoulder. "Hey… Look at me, please. Whatever this is, you’re not alone. I’m here."

But you couldn’t meet his gaze, your eyes fixed downward, hands gripping your knees in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. The fear clawed at you, telling you things would never be alright, that you’d be forever trapped in this choking panic. You could feel Astarion’s fingers tighten, his voice growing sharper with unease.

“I… I don’t know what to do,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. You heard him curse under his breath, the usual mask of bravado slipping away to reveal a vulnerability he rarely showed. He seemed almost frantic, as if desperately trying to piece together what was happening.

A moment later, he lowered himself beside you, his voice gentler, softer. “Listen. Please, listen to me, alright? You don’t have to say anything, but… I need you to hear me.”

You gave a small, involuntary nod, still struggling to focus on anything outside the panic raging inside you. Astarion took a shaky breath, reaching out to take your hand in his. His grip was uncharacteristically warm, steadying, the weight of it something solid to anchor you to the present.

“This feeling, whatever it is… it won’t last forever,” he said, his tone steadying, as if willing it to be true. “I know it doesn’t feel that way right now, but just… try to breathe with me, alright? One breath at a time.”

His voice was calm, even if his expression was anything but. You could see the worry etched in his face, the faint tremor in his hand that betrayed his own anxiety. But he kept speaking, his voice low and unwavering, grounding you with each word.

“Just follow my breath. In… and out,” he whispered, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve spent years in the dark, chained to my own mind, and… and I don’t know how to take away your pain. I want to. But for now… let me be here.”

His words cut through the fog of your mind, just enough to remind you that you weren’t alone. His hand squeezed yours, the slight pressure a reminder of his presence, steady and constant. Gradually, painfully, you tried to match his breaths, focusing on the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hand in yours.

Astarion’s fingers brushed over your knuckles, his touch delicate as if you were something fragile he feared might break. “Whatever darkness you’re feeling, I’ll stay right here. I swear it. And when you’re ready, I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”

The sincerity in his voice was a balm, easing the sharp edges of panic that had gripped you. It was strange, seeing him so unguarded, so openly vulnerable. He stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours, his presence a lifeline through the worst of the storm. For once, he wasn’t hiding behind humor or bravado; he was simply there, raw and real, with you in your fear.

Slowly, your breaths evened, the crushing weight in your chest loosening just enough for you to draw in a full breath. Astarion noticed immediately, a glimmer of relief softening his expression. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles on the back of your hand, his voice a quiet murmur.

“There you are,” he whispered, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “One breath at a time. And I’ll be here, through all of it.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, squeezing his hand in return. For once, words felt unnecessary. Just the quiet presence of him beside you, his unwavering loyalty, was enough. And as the remnants of fear finally ebbed away, you leaned into him, letting yourself be held, comforted by the knowledge that, with him, you were never alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The first sign is a subtle tremor in your hands, just barely visible, but enough that you feel the prickle of dread in the pit of your stomach. You can’t seem to get a full breath in, your chest tight and shallow as though your lungs are pressing up against a wall. You try to steady yourself, forcing a long inhale and focusing on the quiet rhythm of the camp around you—the distant crackle of the fire, the murmur of voices.

But it doesn’t help. The edges of your vision start to blur, and your thoughts are racing, slipping through your grip like sand.

Wyll is the first to notice, his keen eyes catching the slight shake in your hands, the way your gaze is unfocused. He’s by your side in an instant, worry written in every line of his face as he crouches down, his hand hovering near your shoulder, hesitant.

“Hey, love… Are you all right?” His voice is soft, careful, but it only makes your anxiety spike higher.

You try to speak, to reassure him that you’re fine, that it’s nothing, but the words stick in your throat, tangled and heavy. The more you try to grasp at them, the more they slip away, leaving you fumbling in silence, feeling the wave of panic rise higher and higher.

Wyll’s face changes, his brows knitting together as he takes in the silence, the unsteady breath you’re forcing through clenched teeth.

“Okay, all right…” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his fingers reaching out tentatively to rest on your arm. “I’m here. Whatever’s going on, I’m right here.”

You’re barely able to nod, the gesture feeling stiff and unnatural, your muscles locked in tension. A small part of you wants to pull away, to hide this unraveling from him, but you can’t move, trapped in a fog of your own spiraling thoughts.

Wyll swallows, clearly unsettled, but he doesn’t pull away. His hand is warm and steady against your arm, grounding even as your mind spins further out of control. He leans closer, voice steady but laced with a faint tremor. “Tell me what you need. Anything, I’ll do it. Just… tell me how to help.”

But you can’t; the words are gone, buried beneath the weight of your anxiety, the way it presses against your chest like a vice. You’re lost in a spiral, every thought louder and more overwhelming than the last, each one feeding into the next in a relentless loop.

You close your eyes, shaking your head slightly, as if that might shake loose the panic.

Wyll’s hand tightens, his grip firm and reassuring even in his own uncertainty. He takes a slow, measured breath, almost as if he’s trying to model it for you, trying to lead you into his rhythm.

“I… I don’t know if this’ll help,” he says, his voice low and soft. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.”

He inches closer, one hand tentatively reaching for yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. The steady warmth of his touch breaks through the fog just enough to let you catch a hint of reality, a reminder of something outside the panic. You try to focus on it, letting the sensation ground you.

Your breath is still shallow, your thoughts still racing, but Wyll doesn’t falter. He keeps his hand over yours, murmuring soft reassurances, his voice steady and calm even as his own anxiety edges into his expression.

Slowly, the crushing pressure in your chest begins to lessen, the loop of thoughts beginning to lose its hold. You focus on Wyll’s touch, his thumb tracing patterns over your hand, the way he murmurs softly, keeping his words gentle and unobtrusive, as though he’s trying not to startle you.

“I’m right here,” he says again, and this time, you’re able to feel it—his presence, solid and unwavering, cutting through the haze. “I’ll be right here until you’re ready. No rush.”

Bit by bit, you begin to anchor yourself to his words, letting them replace the racing thoughts. The fog clears slowly, your breathing evening out as you match the rhythm of his. Finally, you open your eyes to see him watching you, his gaze soft with worry and relief.

He lets out a small, shaky breath, a hand lifting to gently brush your hair back, his fingers lingering as though to remind you he’s still there.

“You don’t ever have to go through that alone,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with quiet determination. “I’m here, for whatever you need. Always.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The evening had begun with a rare stillness, a gentle calm woven through the golden light filtering into the small clearing you and Halsin had found to spend time together. He was humming as he tended to a fire, casting a glance your way every so often, a warm, gentle smile playing on his lips. But tonight, something felt off in your chest, a faint unease that had begun as a nagging, restless energy, yet had quietly grown until you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Without warning, that unease blossomed into something sharper and more consuming. Your thoughts tangled and twisted, each one splintering into two, then four, until your mind felt like a mass of fraying threads. Your breaths became short and shallow, each one catching at the back of your throat. The forest around you blurred, the steady shapes of trees and flowers dissolving into a rush of shadowed green, and Halsin’s humming, usually so soothing, only seemed to crowd your senses further.

“Are you alright?” His voice, deep and familiar, brought you back just enough to make you realize that your hands were trembling. He was watching you with concern, his warm brow furrowing as he took a step closer.

You tried to answer, but your voice caught, nothing more than a thin rasp. Panic welled up, the edges of your vision growing dim as every part of you wanted to escape, to run from this terrible feeling clawing through your chest.

“My heart,” he said, more softly, kneeling beside you, his hand reaching for yours, but stopping just before it touched. “Something’s wrong. Please, just breathe with me.”

It was so Halsin, so typically him to stay calm and grounded. But you could only manage a tight, frantic shake of your head as the feeling kept surging, as if it were swallowing you whole. His face fell, an unusual worry clouding his eyes.

“How can I help? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he pleaded softly, his voice straining with his own rising concern.

You could feel his helplessness, the confusion behind his eyes. You wanted to reach out, to tell him it would pass, that you’d be fine, but the words slipped away. The worry on his face only sharpened your own distress, a dull ache forming in your chest.

He leaned back, taking a deep breath as if grounding himself for the both of you. Gently, he moved to sit closer, keeping his posture open, his eyes gentle yet alert.

“I’m here,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “I’m not leaving.”

The world still felt like it was closing in, but something about his words, his sheer presence, gave you a fragile tether to cling to. You focused on his voice, letting the deep, familiar cadence of it wash over you. Slowly, achingly, your breathing began to match his, pulling in slower, steadier breaths.

“I don’t know what this is like for you,” he continued softly, watching you intently, his voice even as if he didn’t want to disrupt the rhythm you were building. “But I want to understand. I want to help. You don’t have to hide it, not with me.”

You felt the tremor in his words, the sheer sincerity. The weight of them, the softness, eased the tightness in your chest. You closed your eyes, focusing on his presence, his warmth beside you, the smell of the earth and pine that always seemed to linger around him.

After a few more breaths, you managed to reach out, fingers brushing against his hand. He stilled, his eyes searching yours, and then his fingers wrapped carefully around yours. The warmth of his hand grounded you, gave you something real to hold onto.

“You’re safe here,” he said gently. “Whatever you’re feeling, whatever it is—there’s no need to run from it. Not with me here. We can face it together.”

The gentle reassurance was enough to anchor you, enough to let the pounding in your chest ebb just a little. You squeezed his hand, and his answering squeeze felt like a lifeline.

Slowly, he guided you, taking steady breaths in time with yours, whispering soft encouragements and gentle reassurances until the world around you began to settle, and the vice in your chest loosened. The rush of sensations gradually dulled, leaving only Halsin’s presence beside you, solid and comforting, his thumb brushing over your hand in gentle, soothing circles.

When you finally managed to meet his gaze, the worry in his eyes had softened into an expression of deep, unyielding care. He reached up with his free hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and grounding.

“I am here for you, always,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Whatever you need. If there’s anything I can do… I will.”

With a weak, grateful smile, you nodded, feeling the warmth of his hand against yours, and finally, the world felt a little safer, a little more steady, simply because he was by your side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

oof bit of a heavy one, but I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[cuttleimagines]

𝚆𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚏𝚏 𝚊 𝙳𝚞𝚌𝚔'𝚜 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔 || Halsin

Summary: 𝚃𝚊𝚟 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚞r𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Characters: Halsin, Shadowheart, Astarion, Tav

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, contains sexual content, swearing, mentions of alcohol and body gore, porn with plot, smut with fluff, unprotected water sex, tav has lady parts but no mention of feminine or masculine pronouns, no use of y/n bc yucky, voice kink if you squint, elven Halsin/no wild shape during it

word count: 6.54k 🐻

Like what I write? Tip me on ko-fi! ⚔️

"Be honest... What do you think of the new look?"

Your eyes widened at the display. Shadowheart stood before you, her hair platinum white. You noticed how her braid cascaded down her back with an elegance that reminded you of the woman you've grown to befriend. You smiled. This was who she was.

 "I love it. It's gorgeous." Your voice came out gentle but sincere, loving the way it complimented the faint color of her cheeks and eyes. She gave a shy smile in return, averting her gaze. “Listen, I need to ask you about something, whenever you have the time. I know you've had an... eventful evening. But it's important to me. You're also the only person I can really ask this kind of thing to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You know from experience that one wrong word can send Shadowheart the wrong message, the wrong idea. You take a long pause as you debate on what direction to take this, but much to your surprise, Shadowheart doesn't seem off-put by your hesitation, rather, she welcomes it.

You gesture to the fireside where the bedrolls lay, a determined twinkle in your eye. She follows.

The night air chilled the skin on your arms, crickets singing in the grass. It was as though you and Shadowheart were isolated in this moment, the moonlight shining down on her pale features. Although the night was cold, the warmth from the flame took away your goosebumps. You threw a nearby branch into the flame, watching it engulf and build the fire to increase Shadowheart's warmth.

"Thank you." She sighed, her muscles relaxing under the heat of the fire. "I'd... like to know what the next steps are. In regards to when we reach Baldur's Gate.” “Your parents, for one. Cazador, for two, saving the Duke, fucking up Gortash, taking down the Absolute, and getting rid of our tadpoles.” You spoke, almost without wasting a breath; as if you were reading off a list.

“Exactly my point.” Shadowheart shifted, her back straightened as she sat up. “All of those are hopes. I applaud your optimism but we don’t have a plan; a fully, laid out plan that we would follow and that scares me.” 

That made you grin, a little amused at her worries. “When have we ever had a plan? We went from looking for a healer to going against an Elder Brain. All we knew was we didn’t want these in our heads.” Your tadpole squirmed in your head, in recognition of Shadowheart’s, making her grimace. 

“I don’t need to be reminded.” She shivered, letting her chin fall onto her hand with an exasperated sigh. “It just felt like we had one when we trekked the Shadow-cursed lands, or when we went to the Tiefling grove. We knew where to go next, and who to talk to. I felt safe and like I was headed in a guaranteed path with Lady Shar, but now…” She trailed off, averting her gaze once more.

Your eyes softened. You couldn’t imagine what Shadowheart was going through, and that was the worst part of this conversation. Shadowheart lost everything she thought she knew. The most important part of herself was ripped from her. Of course she’d feel lost, blinded to what was in store for her. 

Your tongue felt tied. For once in your role as the camp leader, you didn’t know what to say, or what advice to give. 

Come on, say something. Your friend needs comfort, it’s your job to keep morale. Why can’t you think of something helpful?

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” Shadowheart let out an exasperated, lightly sardonic laugh, standing to her feet. Despite her plight, she still held onto her sense of humor. You admired that. 

“Convincing me to become independent of myself, going against everything I was taught. Everything I thought I wanted. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.” 

She meant to tease you, judging by the playful smirk on her lips, but all you felt was the pit in your stomach. You didn’t doubt that you made the right decision, but it sucked that you didn’t know how to help Shadowheart in the aftermath. Before you had another chance to offer her a kind word, she chuckled and shook her head, offering you a small smile. 

“Let’s sleep on this. If you’re convinced we’ve been this lost the whole time, I trust you. That’s not an easy feat, by the way.” She winked, walking back to her tent, leaving you sitting by the fire. Despite the warmth, you still felt the chill on your spine. 

Before you had the chance to catch your breath, you heard a familiar smooth voice call your name, beckoning you to his tent. Without missing a beat, you stood to your feet, walking towards him.

Astarion’s fangs shined under the pale moonlight as he grinned at you, a goblet of red wine in his hand. 

“There’s my favorite traveling companion.” He greeted with a purr, his slightly slurred, honeyed words catching your attention. He wanted something. “Won’t you have a drink with me? Our humble leader must be tired, tending to the other lost souls in our little band of misfits.”

“I don’t think I can drink after what happened, if I’m honest.” You dismissed, your brain still conjuring the image of Ketheric Thorm’s beaten-up corpse in the Illithid colony, his mouth hanging open as the soul left his body. You shivered. “I’m surprised you’re drinking tonight. We’re heading closer to Cazador tomorrow.” 

Astarion frowned, disappointed when you didn’t humor him. “Darling, that’s precisely the reason why I’m drinking. I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I’m just worried, is all. If you’re– gonna be in the right mental state for that kind of thing.”

He rolled his eyes, swishing the red liquid around in his goblet, staying silent. Truth is, he wasn’t in the right mental state. He didn’t think he ever would be. He was terrified, hoping that the adventure would be easier with some alcohol in his system. Instead, it just made him sadder, and more emotional. More irate. His lip twitched when you mentioned you were worried about him. 

“You’re a sweetheart for worrying your pretty head over me. But I didn’t call you over here to coddle me.” He started, taking another smooth sip of his wine, letting it run down his throat with its comforting warmth. The kind of warmth a night of indulgence could never give to him. 

“I want to know your opinion about my stance on the ritual. You know I’ve considered taking his place, right?” His eyebrows narrowed, leaning forward a little to try and get a read on your expressions. 

You felt the same as you did with Shadowheart. That sinking feeling that you could say something wrong here, and ruin his perception of you. 

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been… thinking on it.” You admitted with a long breath, really wishing you could run away right now. You weren’t in the right headspace, not focused or wise as you usually were. 

“And?” He pressed further. 

…

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“...What? Why not?” Astarion’s eyebrow raised, his tone slow and careful. And suddenly, your heart began to pound, your mind felt… clearer. You knew exactly what to say. So, you didn’t hesitate.

“You’re throwing away lives. I know they’re dead, I know they’re vampires and the public probably won’t waste too much time grieving. But you’ve forgotten who you are.” 

His gaze darkened. Not at your dismissal of his idea, but at the gall you have. The gall you have to act like you’re smarter, wiser than he is. You must think you’re so much more put-together than him, huh?

“You’ll have lost everything you’ve worked for. You’ll get to lay in the sun again but at what cost? Your dignity will be gone, and your relationships with the people who love you will be gone. You’ll lose sight of yourself.” You chuckled, almost in disbelief at the fact that you need to even say this. “You’ll be exactly like the man you’re trying so hard to get away from.” 

“I will never be like Cazador.” 

“Really? Because if you go through with this… I… I don’t even think I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

He’s glaring at you, not saying a word, fighting the urge to spill his drink on you for even going that far. 

Amid this silence, you begin thinking back. Remembering your words, and your mind lurched with regret. You shouldn’t have said that, gone that far. Especially when he was already so vulnerable. So fragile. 

“Astarion-”

“Just leave. Let me drink in peace.”

His calm, firm tone terrified you. He could’ve stabbed you right there. Could’ve sucked every drop of blood out of your neck until you were an empty husk of a person on the floor, maybe screamed in your face. Instead, he sipped more wine in his goblet, too disgusted to even look at you anymore. 

You felt blinding hot tears form in your eyes, your throat beginning to close as you tried to hide your face from him. Act like you didn’t want the earth to swallow you whole. 

“Sleep well.” You rasped out, your voice cracking under the heavy weight you felt in your chest. 

The camp was even quieter than before as you stepped towards your tent. You could hear the fish swimming in the nearby lakeside, peaceful and unaware of the horrors on the surface. Sitting on your bedroll, you prepared for a sleepless night. 

…

The morning air was biting, clinging to the hairs on your arms as you let the sounds of the water against the rocks fill your senses. You decided to leave with the rest of the party around highsun, leaving you just the right amount of time to think on the events of last night. 

Why was leadership so difficult last night? You were usually so alert, and dominant, commanding the attention of all who surrounded you, but Shadowheart was right. 

You were lost; aimlessly wandering for someone, something to guide you in the right direction. You weren't a leader. It was foolish to think of yourself in that way. To think you could be a leader. How silly of you. 

Maybe you could run away. Perhaps they'd be better off without you. Halsin or Wyll could take the reigns. Maybe Karlach. She has the soul for it, the passion. 

You hugged your knees to your chest, closing your eyes. Focusing on the water. Trying desperately to focus on the water instead of the thoughts that threatened to consume you from the inside out. 

From the trees behind your figure, you heard a low grunt, along with a scratch against tree bark, and a faint smell of honeycomb. You looked towards the noise, standing to your feet. As you stepped closer, watching your step, you noticed a flicker of brown fur in the depths of the bushes and leaves. 

"Halsin?" You guessed in a quick whisper, hoping it wasn't a typical cave bear or a druid you didn't know. Your hand moved to the clasp on your hip where your dagger lay, holding your breath. 

The bear looked at you when you called its name, its eyes twinkling with recognition. A bright light surrounded it, blinding it for a quick second before slowly fading as Halsin returned to his normal form. 

“You startled me. What are you doing up so early?” His eyes were wide, a light pink across his cheeks at the sight of you in the glow of the morning sun. When your expression grew hesitant, he stepped closer. 

“I had a rough night. It’s nothing to fuss over.” Your words came out unsure as if you didn’t know if it was wise to downplay your status to one of the wisest members of your troop or not. By the way his eyebrows narrowed down at you in disapproval, you figured the answer was clear. 

“I’m honored to fuss over you, my friend.” His sentences were sweet, laced with warm, smooth honey that coated your worries and anxieties whenever he spoke. He had that effect on you. Perhaps it was his level-headed nature of being an arch-druid; being firm but caring. Or perhaps, you just got lucky. “Nothing that you could say would hinder my respect for you.”

He paused, as if considering his words, before shaking his head in dismissal. “Okay, there are some instances, but the probability of that is extremely low. You have nothing to fear.”

You laughed a little, relaxed in the proximity between the both of you. Halsin gestured to the lakeside where you previously were with a smile. “Come, sit with me.” 

The morning air felt chilling once more. You wanted to tell him what you were feeling, but you couldn’t find the words for it. So, instead, you just decided to tell him what happened.

“I just… froze up last night. Shadowheart was feeling some anxiety over what the next step is, or if we’re just going in blindly.” You began, staring off into the soft ripples of the lake water. “I mean, I just feel so terrible for her. Devoting your entire self to someone, a goddess who didn’t deserve it. She must feel so empty.” Halsin frowned at your words, giving a silent agreement as he continued listening.

 “I wanted to comfort her, wanted to…” You paused as you stumbled, finding the right words to say. You still felt like you were walking on eggshells. Even though Halsin’s comforting presence was right next to you. “Let her know that I’d be here for her, no matter what.”

“And you… didn’t say that?”

“No. All I could say was how sorry I was. Made her feel like she had to comfort me instead.” 

You were mentally punching yourself while recalling the events of last night, and suddenly, your words began to flow out like a tidal wave being held back by a cracking dam.

“And immediately after, I don’t know why, maybe the divine fucking hates me, but I got in a fight with Astarion. I just got on his case when he didn’t ask for it. He didn’t need me lecturing him on my superior high horse. I could’ve handled it so much better, could’ve… done anything, but I didn’t,” you gave up on coming up with the words for how you were feeling, your head in your hands as you tried to ease the ache in your heart. 

Halsin stayed quiet, despite having so much he wanted to say to you. He knew you had more brewing. 

“I just don’t think I’m as cut out for this as everyone thinks I am.” Your tone was weak, hurt as if one more blow to your confidence would put you straight into Avernus.

 “Hey, hey–” Halsin began, but before he could get a word out, you let out a dry chuckle, rolling your eyes. “You’d be so much better at this fucking leader thing. Karlach, Wyll. Even Scratch could do a better job–” “Hey, that’s enough.” Halsin spoke firmly, his stare piercing. 

You shrunk, embarrassed as Halsin rebuked your self-deprecating language. Despite it, you didn’t feel like you lied.

“Listen, I can handle a lot. I’m a patient man, but when you spread lies about the people I respect and love, that’s where I draw the line.” Halsin began, scooting closer to you so you had to look him in the eye. “Have you forgotten everything you’ve accomplished, how far you’ve come, the sheer number of people who owe you their lives?” 

A dark heat spreads across your cheeks. You didn’t mean to fish for compliments like this.

“The truth is” He pointed behind the both of you, towards camp. “None of those people would be where they are today without you. I’ll be the first to admit I also happen to fit in that category. Without a shadow of a doubt.”

He spoke earnestly, taking a quick breath before gently taking your hand in his. His skin felt rough, likely from calluses and scratches that being an outdoorsy man gave him. Despite how it felt, you felt safe in his gentle hold. “It feels like I owe every inch of myself to you. I don’t exaggerate when I say that.” His voice lowered in volume and pitch as he spoke to you, his eyes gazing into yours. He wanted you to let him in, let him love you.

You clung onto every word that left his lips in a speechless awe, your focus glued to the firm, but desperate look that he gave you. He was begging you to hear his words, but you still couldn’t shake the insecurity that burdened you so. 

“I just don’t know what you all see in me.” Your voice was small, mirroring how you felt under Halsin’s hard gaze. Suddenly, his look softened, letting out a small laugh. 

“You think every good leader is secure in themselves?”

“Well, yeah. You can’t be a good leader, commanding the confidence of your peers without being in tune with your abilities.”

Halsin listened, before laying on his stomach on the sand. “Let me tell you a secret. Something I’ve never told a soul.” He started, a smile on his face. Your eyes widened in curiosity, unconsciously leaning closer to Halsin’s figure.

He smiled wider. “Despite popular belief, I’ve made a mistake before.”

You blushed, embarrassed at how simple his words were. He laughed, leaning back up at you. 

“You, my dear, need to cut yourself some slack. I know I’m horrible at that, but trust me when I say it will make you feel better. Focusing on what you could’ve done, what you could’ve said won’t make the recovery of your mistakes easier.”

He sat up again, nodding his head towards the lake. “Life flows, just like the water in front of us. Filled with waves moving up and down with the tide. You can’t be perfect. There will be days when your words will have empty meanings, or you won’t say the right thing. But that’s the best part of learning. When you fall…” 

Halsin stands, offering you a hand. You take it. 

“You get up again. And do better the next time you try.” 

There you go, speechless again. Except this time, you were admiring him. The creases in his eyes when he smiled at you, the way his hand felt, protectively encasing yours. Being this close to him, you saw the waves in his brunette hair, the beautiful wrinkles in his skin, the strong biceps that you wished would hold you close.

For a few seconds, he drinks in the awkward silence of this moment, staring into your hypnotic eyes that threaten to consume his soul. The moment is gone when a small chuckle escapes him, and he looks towards the calm waters of the lake once more.

“Do you know what helps me when my mind wanders to dark places?” Halsin hummed. Your eyebrow raised. 

“Swimming” He answered in a slow exhale, recalling treasured memories of his youth, swimming beside waterfalls and rushing river rapids. “Nothing compares to the natural cold waters against aching skin to clear the mind. I’d be happy to join you, if you’ll humor me.” 

You thought about it for a moment. How long has it been since you’ve properly gone swimming, or even bathed for that matter? How long has it been since you’ve taken time for yourself to relax and let your mind rest? The memory of soft, warm cloth towels against your damp skin, that refreshing feeling of being squeaky clean and laying in the warmth of the sun as it dried your skin felt like a blur. 

“Gods, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve done something of that caliber.” You breathed out, realizing what a toll this adventure had taken on you, the overwhelming weight lying on your shoulders. 

“Maybe I could use a moment of respite.”

Halsin smiled, a warm satisfied smile. He felt honored to be able to give this to you. Every passing moment, he could swear he saw you working, rarely relaxed and laughing for the hell of it. He’d admit that he was a workaholic, but he knew when breaks were necessary. He wanted to pass that knowledge to you. He wanted to introduce you to the warm feeling of being nestled in Silvanus’s hand, with only the tranquil scent of rain and lavender filling your senses. 

“I’ll look away as you undress. Let me know whenever you’re ready and we’ll jump in.” Halsin winked, turning his broad back towards you to give you a moment of privacy. 

As you began to strip down, you considered what you were about to do. Swimming with Halsin was something you didn’t know you wanted this badly. Getting a moment where nobody needed or wanted anything of you, it made your heartbeat spike.

Clothes fell down the skin of your body onto the grass before you were even able to process the loud ‘splash!’ from the water beneath you. As you turned your head quickly to the source, a happy laugh escaped Halsin as he rose to the top of the water, shaking the water out of his long hair like a dog. As he noticed your startled expression, his excited eyes softened, a big apologetic smile on his face for scaring you. “I couldn’t resist!” He laughed, raising his arms out of the lake and gesturing for you to join him. “Come on in! The water’s heavenly!”

You couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight, cool, glistening waters, having fun, letting loose. Something you haven’t even thought about doing for weeks, months, perhaps. You’ve stopped keeping track of how long it’s been since you’ve felt the comfort of good food, a warm bed, the comfort of laying in the arms of another.

As you jump in, the sharp coldness of the waters sting your skin, forcing a sharp gasp out of your throat once you rise to the surface of the waters. “You call this heavenly–?” You gasp out as Halsin barks out a laugh. “Of course! Cold waters cleanse the skin, hot waters soothe it. If you want to be truly relaxed after a long day, cold waters are the remedy.”

Gods, you knew he was right. But damn, if your lungs didn’t clench at the frigid lake waters around you.

“I could warm you a little, if you’re comfortable with that. It may be faster than swimming around like a madman trying to get the shivers out,” although a blush reddened the tips of his ears, dusting the surface of his cheeks, he had an earnest smile on his face, wanting you to have a good time with him.

You nod. Quickly. Anything sounds better than being alone, shivering while kicking your legs to keep yourself afloat.

His warm body pressed against yours as you ached for closeness. His stomach’s rise and fall with his breathing lost its calm rhythm when you inched even closer to him. Your skin felt like velvet against his, and his hands shook for a split second as he held you in the waters.

“There, plenty of warmth,” He chuckled. However, this wasn’t a typical Halsin chuckle. It was shaky, quieter. The way he held you in his strong hands was tighter than his usual hugs, and his breaths were faint, both in volume and length.

“Are you okay?” Your voice was quiet, a small trace of worry, and before he could speak, he averted his gaze, a hesitant look on his face. He paused for a few seconds, then spoke, out of necessity.

“I–have a confession to make,” Halsin let go of you, but maintained his closeness. “I wasn’t completely honest regarding my motive for bringing you out into these waters with me,”

“What’s wrong? Have you been struggling too? Halsin, you know you can tell me anything.”

He let out a humored laugh, but you could still sense the apprehension laced in it.

“You could say that. I’ve been fighting demons, my friend, and they’re stubborn with me,” He began, aching to touch you again, but holding himself back so as to not make you uncomfortable. “Ever since you saved Thaniel, saved nature, I’ve–I’ve longed to have you, whether that be physical or not. I don’t wish to merely fight at your side, laughing beside the campfire only to retire to our separate tents after. I want to find rest beside you; retire after a long day underneath the calmness of night with you.”

Your heart began to pound, your cheeks flushed. Halsin seemed passionate, talking about the many lovers he’d taken before you both had met and the long life of desire and freedom he had. You never thought he’d want you to share in it. Halsin took your stunned silence as an invitation to express himself a little more, confess everything he’d been holding back.

“I’m in your debt, you inspire me more than words can do justice, and for that reason, I don’t want to ruin the bond we share as equals. If you do not feel the same way, we can let this matter rest, return to camp, and never speak of this again,” He gently took your hand in his, letting his calloused thumb trace the peaks of your knuckles with his thumb. His eyes fell to where his hand met yours, cradling you like the beautiful flower he saw you as.

“But I must know if one day, I’d have the privilege of sharing in your love, experiencing what it’s like to be bonded with you. If I deny the inevitable any longer, I’ll burst.”

At his words, your heart soared, your mind clouded with passion. The way his hungry hazel eyes bore into yours, fingers twitching at his sides with the carnal urge to hold you close, claim your lips to his.

He shivered as he felt the softness of your hand gently stroke the definition of his arm, watching as it flexed involuntarily to the foreign sensation.

“As long as I get to share in yours.” You whispered, and Halsin couldn’t control the smile that spread across his lips, admiring you again.

“May I?” He asked breathlessly, still wanting to remain respectful of your boundaries, but you could tell, he’d be a kicked puppy if you dared say no to him. You nodded and leaned close to him once more, and he met you right in the middle, his hands finding purchase on your waist.

His lips were softer than imagined, tasting faintly sweet as he pushed a little his weight into the kiss. Although you really only imagined this being a quick, short and sweet exchange, you couldn’t help but lean more into him as his rough hand squeezed at your waist, moving to the small of your back. He let out a deep breath through his nostrils, his lips beginning to move slowly, methodically against yours.

When your fingers met his damp hair, he shivered, gently taking your waist back in his hands as he directed your body back into the waters with him. As you felt the temperature balance once more, comfortable in his protective hold, you began to nip at his lower lip.

You hear a deep groan in the back of his throat as he tightens his grip on you, his self-control beginning to slip away from him with every breathy sigh against his lips. Your legs slowly wrap around his. The warmth from his skin, even under the cool waters, makes your blood run hot.

His chest touches yours, the peaks of breast against chest, and he revels in it. With a start, his lips pull away from yours, and without a word, begin to eagerly press firm kisses down the side of your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more room.

A direct contrast from how they started, his kisses grew vigorous, desperate. His hands ache to touch every inch of your skin. Every curve, every imperfection. He wanted it all in the palms of his hands.

Halsin’s breathing is short as his kisses move further down to your collarbone, quickly growing addicted to the taste of your skin on his lips, his hands dancing across your skin under the waters. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t hold back any further. I—I need you to tell me to stop if that’s what you desire,” he breathed out, his heartbeat pounding with the stress of holding everything back.

The truth is, Halsin’s been craving this. Needing this. Needing you, for far too long by his standards. He’d gladly wait a lifetime for you, but with your warm skin pressed to his, your body being cradled so perfectly in his biceps—it was all making his mind melt.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you admitted with a sigh, fingertips tightening around his shoulders.

Yes, yes. This is what I need. Distract me, prove my self-deprecations wrong.

Halsin hardly needs any egging on in the first place, honestly, as he already has your wet body laying back down on the grass. You whine in the absence of warmth as the cool morning air hits your damp skin once more, but the image of Halsin between your thighs is enough to distract you from the cold.

His hair is damp, his eyes focused as he kisses your navel, the plushness of your thighs. A satisfied grunt leaves him as he runs his tongue along them, the beauty of you mixed with the earth filling his senses.

It doesn’t surprise you that the Druid gets off on the mixed scent and taste of sex and nature, especially not with the proof of being connected mouth-to-clit. His tongue is experienced, due to the many lovers he’s brought to ecstasy in the past, but he’s scarcely had this much desire towards someone. He gives a long, wet swipe of his tongue against your slick, wrapping his lips around the puffy bud up top and sucking against it, flicking his tongue with a rapid eagerness that has you spiraling.

He holds you to his mouth like you’re a means for survival, like he can’t see the colors of the Earth if not for your essence. As the taste of you settles on his tongue, he delves deeper, slurping up the arousal fluid that you’d been seeping out into the cool waters.

Your body begins to shake and stir, not wanting anything to do with an orgasm yet, merely wanting to bask in the moment. Halsin’s face is buried betwixt your thighs, his brown eyes locked on his work, focused and deliberate. His eyebrows splay in contentment. He’d spend an eternity down there if you’d let him.

However, your desperation for praise, his flowery words, caused you to tug your hips towards you, popping them away from the suction of Halsin’s lips. A small chuckle leaves him as he pushes himself out of the water, looming over your body on the cool grass.

He lets out a shaky, excited breath, connecting his lips to yours to show you how you tasted, to convey to you how happy he was to be here with you, after all the stress, turmoil, and victory.

As you disconnect from the kiss, his breath wavered even still, possibly more.

“You’re unbelievable, truly,” he huffs with a small laugh, biting his lip as he pulls you back into the waters with him, giving you small loving pecks on your lips.

“I haven’t done this in so long. It may hurt me.” The warning goes through him, but he simply chuckles, gently positioning himself between your thighs under the water.

“I’m here for you. To support you, to adore you,” He begins, snaking an arm around the curve of your waist to support your body in the comforting waters. “You need not worry, any pain you have, I will mend, with my touch and words.”

Once he sees you nod, his face moves to the crook of your neck, breathing you in.

That’s when it slides in, albeit, not very smoothly. Lake water has never been the best lubricant, but Halsin eases you through. His hands cascade through your hair, giving slow rubs to the back of your neck to distract you with a more pleasant sensation.

“Shh, you feel amazing… Hold on as tight as you need,” Halsin’s grip tightens for a split second or two around the skin of your nape before returning to a comforting looseness just seconds later. “I’m as content as can be at the moment, being like this with you.” His breathy, low voice goes straight to the pit of your stomach, exploding into tiny butterflies that have you reeling, pleading for more.

With soft kisses and flowery praises, your walls begin to finally relax, a siren song to lure Halsin into your depths.

He stays like that for a moment, drinking you in as his hips become flush with yours, under the water. He couldn’t ask to be anywhere else, a wide smile beginning to spread across his lips as his hips begin their slow, languid thrusts.

“You have no idea–” he starts with a smile, his hips beginning to find a consistent rhythm. “--how agonizing this wait has been, looking upon you from afar without even the slightest idea of how beautiful you could be.”

“You didn’t find me beautiful before?” You grin in a small, breathless laugh, eyes locked without waver on his.

“I found you breathtaking. That hasn’t changed…”

His arm, which was wrapped tightly around your midsection, begins to loosen, allowing himself to focus his strength on his movements and keeping you perfectly above water.

“What has changed is the way you feel. Your bare skin, pressed against mine. Just like this.”

As you both move like this, he continues to whisper loving words, breathless “thank you”s, like you’d given him the stars for allowing him to take you so intimately. A symphony of his moans and groans fill your ears as his movements begin to pick up pace.

An overwhelming gust of warmth flows in your abdomen, a blossoming flower of fire that makes your body violently quake and shiver, yet Halsin holds you protectively still, relishing in the fact that he��s the one making you this vulnerable underneath him, and every inch of his focus is on you.

Halsin’s breaths grow vocal now, his arms supporting his weight with every deep and carnal thrust into you. Every movement is calculated, learning every sweet spot and which angles made you feel the most. He savors the sight of your mind-boggling orgasm, the feeling of your fingers grasping at his hair, pulling down at the wet strands for support.

“My heart— my beloved,” He rasps out in the crevice of your neck, feeling himself fall deeper and deeper in love with you with every sloppy, quick thrust against your cervix. His dick practically swims in the glory of your orgasm, your fluid dripping out into the waters from him with every withdrawal. Meanwhile, your mind grew fogged, pussy practically milking him as it clenches with every overstimulation he delivers through his eager movements.

“Gods, do you hear that?” Halsin grunts in your ear, a satisfied smile spread across his lips. He begins to buck his hips with promise to prove his point. The sloshes of the lake water mixed with your labored breathing, raspy moans from the overexertion sound like music to his ears. He turns you over, lifting your lower body out of the water just barely to watch the water splash with every thrust into your sloppy cunt that swallowed him oh-so-perfectly.

One thing about Halsin was that he adored the sound of sex. Not just the moans, although those were a great bonus. No, no. He loved the environmental reaction to love-making. Skin against skin as you indulged him, laying back on the grass as he begins to fuck you just barely over the water, enough to make small splashes with every connection of his hips to the curve of your ass.

“Hahh—Halsin!” You breathe out, biting down onto the meat of your finger to ease the sensitive stimulation. Oh, how he loved hearing his name fall from your lips so carelessly. “Say my name again… Your voice is heavenly…” he speaks with a low mumble, too lost in this rapture to make a proper sentence. His calves tighten as he adjusts the angle to loom over your back, and suddenly flips you over again to look into your eyes as you lay on the grassy ledge. He takes your thigh in hand, right below the curve of your knee, and lifts it up to your chest to get better access to you. The water drips off his stomach, and you now see his body in its full glory as he stares down at you.

The remnants of your slick glimmer against his chin and lips, the curve of his belly brush deliciously against your navel, his damp, long hair dripping down onto your bare body as he fucks into you like a man desperate for salvation, and his deep grunts that leave his throat and straight to your core. Every movement seems to flow in slow motion, and the sounds of his needy, desperate groans in the crook of your neck gave your body enough of an excuse to cum again, but this time, you weren’t alone.

Halsin’s breathing grows louder as his legs begin to spasm from under him, fingers grasping at the Earth for leverage. “You’re close again… Don’t worry. I’m… ngh—right there with you,” His words come out shaky, wavered as his thrusts begin to pick up with a grunt. He moves a little, hoisting your leg up further while turning at an angle to thrust deeper than he already was, making you see stars. You can’t help the floodgates from crashing open as you coat his dick with your cum for a second time.

“Yes–yes… There you are…” He breathes out, a small smile spreading across his lips at the feeling of your release around him, your walls spasming from it all as he gives a harsh, lasting thrust into your core, painting your insides with his seed. You feel a warm shiver run up your spine at the sensation of him filling you up to the brim, bottoming out inside you as his legs shiver a little against yours.

A relieved, satisfied groan sounds at the back of his throat, attempting not to collapse on top of you. “Come to me… My heart.” He whispers, laying on the cool grass, soothing his hot skin. You find solace in his warmth, placing small pecks on his lips to try to make up for how exhausted you are.

“Are you alright? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” His breath comes out wavered, his hands roaming over your body to make sure he didn’t bruise you too much or scratch you. “You were perfect. I’ll be sore for a bit, but I’m alright,” you manage to chuckle out, your chest heaving up and down with the lack of air. “I feel incredible.”

“You deserve to feel that way, love.” Halsin moves up, caressing your body with feathery touches and loving rubs, your ear now pressed to his bicep while he holds your back to his chest. You stay there for a few minutes, basking in the glory of his warmth and embrace.

He lifts his head from the grass to admire your face. “Once we return to camp, I think it would be wise to release your tensions with Shadowheart and Astarion. If we’re to make this trek to the city, we must be connected and in understanding of one another.”

You sigh and nod, but not out of exasperation.

“I will. I’ll make it right. I want to.”

He smiles and sits up, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss.

“Fate has spun itself beautifully to have me end up with an individual like you in my arms.”

You smile, genuinely. In love, and happy. This adventure has taken you down winding, treacherous roads. But the warmth of your companions and peers have brought you and leveled you into who you are. A friend, a lover, a confidante, and a leader.

[rosieofcorona]

A Light To Break All Shadows

Just a fluffy little Halsin x Tav fic to keep the darkness at bay. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Tav is eyeing Halsin suspiciously from the opposite end of Art’s bedside, where he’s been keeping watch over the sick man for days. At least, Halsin thinks it’s been days– perhaps three (or maybe four?) at the most. It is difficult to keep track in the Shadowlands.

At any rate, he cannot answer her immediately, which means his answer is insufficient.

“If you have to think about it,” Tav continues, “It’s been too long.”

She has a point.

He is exhausted, as they all are, but cannot bring himself to rest. They are so close– he is so close– to finding the child that will save them, to ending the hundred-year darkness, to restoring light and balance to the land. 

And Art Cullagh, ill as he is, is the key that will unlock their victory, so Halsin feels as though he must protect him every moment, must stay by his side in case he should wake, or take a turn. 

For days, he has persisted, spurred on by his stamina and willpower. For days, he has waited and watched. Now the idea of sleep falls on him like a spell. 

“It is my duty.” He protests. “I will see this through.” “You will,” she agrees, “When you wake. These people will need you in the days to come. And they will need you to be rested.”

She is playing to his sense of responsibility, he knows, but he is too tired to argue. Reluctantly, he nods his agreement. 

When he rises from his chair, it seems that all his centuries of existence catch up to him at once, his joints and muscles burning. He feels old and sore and weary as he drags himself toward an empty bed.

“Go on,” Tav commands gently. She feels like a mother nudging a child off to sleep. “Even the greatest leaders need rest.”

“Then you ought to rest yourself.”

She laughs at that, though Halsin means it. He knows so few who are so capable, so resilient, so kind. She has already accomplished so many things that he could not, not in hundreds of years of practice.

“You flatter me,” Tav smiles, but Halsin shakes his head. 

“You are extraordinary.” 

His gaze is on her when he says it, on her eyes and mouth and hands, the way her armor cleaves to her, the way her weapon rests against her hip. In another place, another time, another life, he would have had her already, would have known her inside and out if she asked him to. 

And she had asked him to, once, before they came here. He remembers. At the time he had denied her as gently as he could, in the knowledge that what was growing between them, if cultivated, could later prove a distraction, a weakness. 

But gods, he had wanted her then. He wants her still. 

Yet such urges, much like sleep, must be suppressed. At least for now.

Tav stares back at him with wide eyes until she feels a flush come over her cheeks. She turns her face away, just slightly, so that Halsin will not see. 

“Well.” She clears her throat, and redirects. “I’ll rest before we go scouting tomorrow. And I’ll watch Art while you sleep.” 

“As you say.” 

**********

In his dreams, he is back in the Shadowfell, that sunless, cursed place. 

At his feet are bodies, Harper and druid and shade alike. He knows their faces, their names, their stories. Here is Atlan, a boy from his own grove, no more than eighteen years of age. Halsin had cured him once of pox, had later mentored him in the healing arts. 

And here, Jehan the Harper, who had just received word that his wife was expecting. Twins, he’d announced, over a round of drinks at Last Light. 

And Moranna, the Selunite priestess who had blessed them again and again on their journey, had prayed over them and shielded them to the best of her ability. 

All lost to the shadows, corrupted beyond recognition. All dead, cut down by his hand. 

Halsin does his best to avoid stepping on them as he presses onward, each step a battle of its own. The weight of darkness seems to crush him, seems to drain the very life out of his body. 

His god is nowhere here. 

There comes a voice through the black night, distant, disembodied. Halsin, the shadows whisper, and whisper again, closer. Halsin. 

Wildly he turns and swings his glaive, hitting nothing, the panic rising in his throat, and–

“Halsin!” Tav exclaims, blocking a swing of his fist with her forearm. 

She is sitting at the edge of his bed looking concerned, frightened even. His skin is slicked with sweat, his breathing heavy, his body tangled in the bed linens. 

Immediately, a white-hot shame rushes over him, that he should be the one to cause her fear. 

That he should strike at her, even unconsciously, his savior, his ally. His friend, though that is too weak a word for the feeling that grows within him, wraps around his heart like wild ivy. 

“Forgive me,” he pants, “I was–” 

I was lost in the darkness, he means to say, I was frightened and alone, but the words stick in his throat like flies in honey.

Yet Tav seems to know already, a tenderness softening the furrows of her brow. Not pity, he notes. Understanding. 

She has seen equivalent horrors, has seen friends fall and foes flourish and still, and still, keeps fighting toward goodness, toward light. He aches with the thought that she might have such nightmares, that she might know firsthand how he feels now. 

But she soothes him, reaches out to wipe the sweat from his brow, her touch as light and cool as an evening breeze. 

“It’s alright,” she promises. “You don’t have to explain. You are safe here.”

Halsin lets out a breath he’s been holding for too long. It has been many years since he was last comforted, truly comforted. He is so accustomed to doing the comforting that he has almost forgotten what it feels like to be on the receiving end. 

Tenderness is no stranger to him– many of his lovers have been gentle, have been sweet– but none have ever known his burdens, none have carried them, taken them on as their own. Here is one who has, who does, who will, if he will let her. 

He takes Tav’s hand in his and guides it, flattens her palm over the rabbit-fast beat of his heart, breathing deeply, willing it to slow. He wants to say, Thank you, then, I love you, but it’s too soon, he thinks, too desperate, no matter how true. 

“Thank you,” Halsin allows, and swallows the rest. 

Tav smiles at him then, a soft, bright thing, like a single star in the night sky. The true last light in the Shadowlands. 

“Shall I stay with you?”

“Art–,” Halsin starts, but she shakes her head calmly, knowingly. “He’s sleeping soundly. Seems his bad dreams have come to visit you.”

“I do not wish to burden you with something so trivial.”

“You could not burden me,” Tav says quietly. “But I will leave, if you prefer.” 

Her thumb strokes over his chest, her hand still pressed against him. His pulse quickens again at so intimate, so innocent a touch. Halsin wonders if she can feel it.

“I prefer your presence, always. But you need your own rest.” 

“Very well.” 

Her palm slips from him as she rises to her feet, and he thinks for a moment that he’s made a mistake, has waved off her kindness, dismissed her.

Rather, she motions for him to move over and climbs slowly, wordlessly into the bed next to him. He finds himself lifting the sheets for her, inviting her in without hesitation. 

She’s changed, he realizes as she comes close, her armor cast aside for the day. Her nightclothes make her look, make her feel smaller, softer. He wants so badly to slip his hands beneath the fabric, to see how soft she is beneath. 

“Is this alright?” Tav whispers, looking earnestly into his eyes. Her fingertips flit over his cheek, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you alright?”

The bed is small and Halsin is not, and she is pressed against him like a flower between the pages of a book. He can only nod. 

“I will rest here then, with you.”

In the gentlest act he can or will ever remember, she leans forward and kisses his eyes as if bestowing a blessing upon them, a ward against the darkness.

**********

Halsin wakes again in near-total silence, save the gentle inhale-exhale of Tav’s breathing beside him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, and for the first time in a long time, doesn’t mind. 

Instead, he is aware of how peaceful he feels in this moment, sheltered from the dangers beyond the inn, aware that at one point or another he had let go of his worry and settled deep into dreaming. The earlier tension in his muscles has melted into a tired ache, as if he is returning from a very long walk in the Grove. 

And she is here, wrapped in his arms. A light to break all shadows.

He can’t be sure when it happened. The shift had been imperceptible, like the feeling of falling asleep, or falling in love.

[aethes-bookshelf]

we promised we'd save you || astarion/tav/halsin

This chapter took me way longer than I expected it to. I had to finish my biggest commission to date a few weeks after posting part one. It seems it took a lot out of me ^^"

But! I promised comfort, I deliver comfort. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Astarion/Tav/Halsin

Warnings: implied/referenced past character death, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

Wordcount: 1.3k

Summary: The first thing Tav felt was pain.

ao3 link || part 1

When they came back, Halsin carrying Tav’s dead body, stunned silence washed over the camp. The entire time the party knew Tav, they seemed indestructible. Larger than life, powerful and confident. But now, with their limbs limply swaying with Halsin’s movements, they looked like a little doll; fragile and lifeless..

Their skin was much, much paler than usual, dirty with dried blood and grime. They weren’t wearing their armor; it might have been lost or destroyed at the bhaalist temple. Without their shoulder guards they seemed so much smaller, dwarfed by Halsin’s broad shoulders.

‘What happened?’ said Wyll, eyes wide.

‘Orin happened,’ said Karlach. She had a look of grim determination on her face. ‘Where’s the skeleton?’

* * *

The first thing Tav felt was pain. Every single muscle in their body ached with that deep, crushing kind of pain that made even the slightest movement hell. Their head wasn’t doing any better. Their pulse pounded in their skull, each beat of their heart bringing an uncomfortable sensation in their temples. They were parched, their throat so dry and tight they were sure it would start bleeding at any moment.

They were hurting all over. But if they were hurting, that meant they were alive.

That realization slammed them right back into themself. The last thing Tav remembered before everything went black was being thrown onto the sacrificial altar in the middle of the bhaalist temple.

Tav opened their eyes. Above them was the fabric of their tent — they were back at camp. They were back at camp! Relief flooded their system. Their friends must have come for them before it was too late.

Granted, they couldn’t really move much because of the pain, but it probably wasn’t anything a bit of healing magic couldn’t fix. And a little pain was to be expected after whatever the hell Orin did to them. They would manage with a few more healing potions and Shadowheart’s help.

Tav groaned at the ache as they tried to adjust their legs under the covers. A puff of white hair suddenly came into their vision. It disappeared almost immediately when someone crashed into their chest with a relieved sob. Tav made a short, pained sound.

‘Shit,’ Astarion hissed and reluctantly moved away. He settled for holding Tav’s hand instead. ‘You made me forget myself there, my sweet.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you must’ve been so worried,’ Tav said, their voice teasing and hoarse. They squeezed Astarion’s hand just a little bit tighter; he squeezed back. ‘Still, there’s no need to break my ribs over it, is there?’

Astarion was strangely silent for a beat too long. Tav tried to rise to get a better look at his face but decided against it after the pain pushed them back into their bedroll. ‘What, no witty banter? Are you okay, love?’

That made Astarion snort, unamused. ‘It’d be quite hard for me to be okay after you went and quite literally died on me.’

It was Tav’s turn to go silent. ‘...What do you mean “died”?’ They said after a few moments.

‘I mean “died”.’ He sounded annoyed. Still, his voice shook all the same. ‘You… you died. Orin killed you.’

‘Oh.’ Tav cleared their throat. They refused to let the true weight of that statement reach them. ‘Well, then I’m glad you brought me back. Though we’ll probably have to restock on scrolls of revivify. We’d been running low for a while now, anyway.’

‘See, that’s the thing,’ Astarion had to grab onto the fabric of his pants to stop his hand from shaking, ‘we couldn’t bring you back. We tried the scrolls, they…’ He swallowed, grief thick in his throat. ‘They wouldn’t work. We had to rush you to that blasted skeleton. For a moment I thought I’d…’

…lost you.

Astarion couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He felt as if he was on the brink of a cliff, staring down a bleak, lonely future. He’d rather not think about what his life would be like if Tav had not come back to him.

Tav wished to sit up and cradle Astarion to their chest. But they couldn’t; and they cursed all the gods, devils and hells for it.

‘Lovely, look at me,’ they said instead.

Astarion did as they asked. He was trying very hard not to cry again; he wasn’t sure if he had any tears left to spare.

‘I’m here now, okay? I’m still here.’ They tried to give Astarion a reassuring smile, but it came out as a weak grimace. He smiled back anyway.

‘I know, love. And am I not grateful for it,’ Astarion said, quietly. He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand. ‘Give me a moment, I have to tell Halsin you’re okay.’

‘Is he alright?’

‘He’ll be now.’

The tent fell into silence when Astarion left it. Tav’s world shrank down to the pull of their muscles and the pounding in their head.

They died. Almost for good this time. The reality of that crashed down on them so suddenly they felt like they couldn’t breathe.

But they were still here. Was Orin dead then? Did the rescue party get her Netherstone? What of Gortash? Had any progress been made while they were out of it? Just how long had they been out of it?

Their racing thoughts stopped when the flaps of their tent parted and both of their lovers came in. Halsin rushed to their side, worry clear on his face.

‘My heart!’ He was by their side in an instant. He grabbed their hand, just as Astarion had before, and planted a kiss on it. He held it to his face like a drowning man would hold a piece of driftwood.

‘Hi,’ Tav smiled. ‘Glad to be back in the land of the living.’ They could taste the copper tang of blood in the back of their mouth.

Astarion settled next to Halsin and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay, you big oaf,’ he said, doing his best to sound exasperated, ‘they’re okay.’

‘You say it as if you, too, haven’t been beside yourself with worry.’

Astarion scoffed. ‘Yes, yes, the pot calling the kettle black and all that.’ Despite his tone, Astarion’s eyes, locked on Halsin, remained soft.

Halsin rested his and Tav’s intertwined hands in his lap. ‘How are you feeling, my heart?’

‘Like I just died,’ Tav said, in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Everything hurts, I can’t really move.’

Halsin’s brow creased with worry. ‘Let me.’ He lifted his free hand and passed it over Tav’s body. The soothing coolness of healing magic did away with some of their pain.

Relief must have been clear on Tav’s face; Astarion perked up almost instantly. ‘I take it you’re feeling better already, aren’t you?’

‘I suppose I do,’ Tav adjusted their legs under the covers, this time without most of the pain. ‘I wager I’ll be up and about soon enough.’

‘You should rest for a few more days at least,’ Halsin’s voice was firm. Tav suspected there would be no changing his mind.

‘I know, I know.’ They sighed, bored already. ‘And thank you for the healing spell, honey.’

Halsin smiled. ‘The pleasure is mine, my heart.’

‘How long was I out?’

‘Almost a week,’ said Astarion. His head was resting on Halsin’s shoulder. The druid laid his free hand on the vampire’s lap. ‘None of the others knew what to do without you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t, either.’

‘None of us did.’ Halsin sighed. ‘Until now,’ he said and gave Tav a look so full of pure, unfiltered adoration they had to look away for a moment.

‘Until now,’ whispered Astarion.

‘Rest, my love.’ Halsin’s voice was warm and soft. ‘We’ll be here, watching over you.’

Tav nodded and closed their eyes. Sleep came for them quickly.

Their head was no longer pounding.

[mogwaei]

I would like to have a cuddle and smoke a flower while Halsin heals my wounds and tells me we'll get through everything together.

[ Halsin 🌻 Zjinn ]

[sorcerous-caress]

Hello!! I love your writing 😍 Would it be okay if you wrote Karlach, Lae'zel and whomever you wish with a tiefling!Tav that loses both a horn and an eye during a battle and can't quite find balance in their fighting afterwards bc of it?

Reacting to Tav losing a horn/eye

[Hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, nb!reader, Tiefling!reader]

[Karlach, Laezel, Wyll, Halsin]

Karlach

She swears she can still hear it, your agonised scream, the splatter of blood, the crunch of bone being torn apart.

As if the world slowed down for a moment, an eerie quietness surrounding the battlefield for the uncomfortable stretched out seconds. Your companions turning to look at you, clutching your eye with your back hunched.

Dread filled her stomach, one of your horns laid on the bloody floor next to your feet.

She doesn't remember the rest. Only when she stood atop the burnt rubble of what used to be the battlefield, did the all-consuming rage fade away from her mind.

Karlach is immediately at your side after, apologising for not being there sooner.

She's by your side as you heal, making sure to bring you anything you might need. As your struggles to adjust to combat again in the aftermath become more and more evadint, she is one of the first people to suggest fully leaving combat to her.

Yes, you are capable. Yes, she has seen how strong you are. But sometimes life just doesn't go the way we plan it. You can relay on her instead.

You don't have to go back to the cruel world. You can let her take care of it. Karlach really can't afford losing you. She'd claw her way up the heavens and steal you away if your fate took a turn to the worse.

Laezel

She completely disagrees with Karlach. This is nothing but a minor setback if anything. Laezel completely has faith in you to relearn how to find your balance, and she'll teach you if she has to.

As long as you can still stand on your feet and carry a sword, then you can fight in her eyes. She will give her sincere apologies for letting you down in battle and not doing something before enemeis got the chance to best you, but besides it, you'll get no pity from her.

Why is everyone acting as if you died? You're clearly still the same strong and capable person she knows. If anything, each scar is evidence of how your enemies' failure to put you down, you should show your broken horn with pride.

She has enough self awareness not to impose her views on you, no matter how much she thinks her companions are being dramatic and oversensitive, is she noticed you being fully uncomfortable with her approach she will take her leave from your bedside.

But you got fed up with people infantlising you, then she will be the first to 6pull you back into an intense daily training routine until you regain your footing.

Wyll

While Karlach and Laezel were too busy arguing about your own fate, Wyll was there for you throughout every stage of healing. He knows what it's it like losing an eye. He can relate to the horror and dissociation that happens whenever you look at the mirror to see a piece of yourself missing.

He still hasn't gotten used to his own horns himself, and losing one of yours must have been painful to bear. He will stay by your side until you feel better, no pressure to discuss the future or your fighting abilities or anything.

Wyll will make sure you don't feel alone, that the dark thoughts don't consume you too much. Share you worries with him, let him help carry your burdens, please. It kills him seeing someone so dear to him suffer when he can't do anything or help.

Halsin

His heart breaks, seeing you coming back to camp limbing and bloodied that day. He prays to Silvanus to ease your pain as he takes shift with Shadowheart to nurse you back to health with healing spells.

Nature can be so unforgiving sometimes, to some animals, losing an eye or horn can be a death sentence.

But he has seen even the most withered of plants suddenly flourish and regain their strength, he has personally stayed up countless nights to care for the weak kittens that their mother refused to even acknowledge.

He has seen them grow, nurtured them into a strong healthy state.

Don't surrendered to the darkness, when the abyss starts whispering about how this is your end and how your potential was wasted you yell at the abyss, bite, claw and fight your way out of this rut.

True strength lies in the heart, give yourself time to rest, and don't rush your healing. Eventually, you'll be back on your own two feet with a new view on the world before you can realise it.

[thedomesticanthropologist]

"You hide it from him,"

Halsins voice. Deep, warm. Mira looked up from where she had been gazing sightlessly into the fire before her.

"I'm sorry, Halsin, I was miles away. What was that?" She asked quietly, tone soft yet curious. The large druid stood a respectful distance away, but now gestured with a single hand to indicate if he could sit. Mira nodded.

"Forgive me for saying so, but I feel we are on fair enough terms with each other to ask. When Astarion is not looking, you cease to hide that sad expression of yours. Why not let him see it?"

In a bold but telegraphed move, Halsin slowly raised a large, calloused hand to her cheek. When she did not reject this, he gently thumbed her cheekbone, eyes searching her face for any sign of disquiet at this new contact between them.

"Hm... you're forgiven," the cleric murmured, leaning into the touch. The moment she did so, Halsin breathed in sharply, his movements stuttering. He swallowed audibly, breaking contact between them in the same slow and measured way that he had initiated it. Mira neither chased the touch nor did she question its end, returning her gaze to the fire in the space of the comfortable pause between them.

"He has enough going on." She answered after a few moments.

"We are none of us without our troubles. To unburden oneself with a loved one is to have such pains lifted, even in small measure. Do you think him unable to carry you, as you carry him?" The low rumble of his voice was so soothing. Mira smirked, blowing out a short breath as she shook her head.

"No. It's not that. I think I like it, keeping him believing that I'm..." she waved a hand.

"You are incredible, Mira. A blind man could see it."

"You flatter me."

"You underestimate yourself."

"Touché."

The fire crackled, small pockets of sap popping as they came to a boil from the heat. It smelled delightful, even if the freshness of the wood caused extra smoke to raise towards the sky. Thankfully, there was no wind to blow it to their faces.

"There, that's the look." He rumbled, "That one right there. The one that says you're hurting. I hope I do not overstep in saying that I ache to see it."

"... you're not overstepping. I don't think I have an answer for you, though. I think I just got used to putting on a brave face, honestly." She shrugged, posture tightening as she wrapped her arms around knees now drawn up towards her chest.

"You need not be brave with me." The druid offered, hand presented in the space between them. Palm up, resting on the ground. An offer.

Still gazing at the fire, Mira reached over to give that warm, large hand a single squeeze. Then she let go, returning to herself.

"... I know."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Authors note: reblogs, comments and replies are appreciated!

[girlwithadragonheart]

Thinking about Halsin and a depressed reader. Someone who knows they aren't alright, and is frustrated with themselves for not being able to communicate that. Someone who, when asked what's wrong? will answer, nothing, I'm okay, or I don't know because that's the only way they can properly communicate that something is, in fact, wrong.

Someone who starts to feel guilty because they can't ease their companions' minds because that would effectively be lying to them and telling them they're okay when they obviously aren't isn't alright. But they also can't just come out and say what the issue is because there is no issue, they just don't feel good.

Halsin sees the gradual change. The way you stop coming out around the others. The way your sentences get shorter and shorter, and you smile less and less. The few times you do, it doesn't quite reach your eyes. You have moments of joy, of course, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with that emptiness that won't leave you alone.

Halsin would like to say he knows how to help that because he's lived it, but the truth is he doesn't. He spent a century feeling how you feel and the only way it lifted was to solve the root of the problem---the Shadow Curse. But how do you kill the weed if you can't find its roots?

He doesn't know, and watching you sleep more and more, becoming less inclined to solve anything that's a threat to you, it just kills him inside.

He finds himself approaching your tent one night when you skip dinner. He finds you near-asleep, rolled away from him with an arm supporting your head. Halsin kneels down beside you, resting one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hips, gently squeezing you awake.

You roll toward him slowly, and he looks down at your bleary eyes. "I'm worried about you."

You huff, sitting up and throwing the blankets aside. "Everyone is. I don't know what you want me to say."

"Can you at least talk to me about it?" Halsin asks gently.

Gods, but you want to. "I don't know how. I don't know what's wrong with me," your eyes tear up.

Halsin's brow furrows. The last thing he intended was to make you cry, but perhaps letting something out would do you some good. "Come here," he says in a gentle, commanding tone.

Following directions is all you know how to do right now, so you crawl over to him, settling yourself against his chest. He shifts his weight as though you aren't even there until he settles, wrapping his thick arms around you. He's soft. Comforting.

Gradually, your tears start to fall. Everything comes out as though a dam has burst and you can't reel it in if you try. Halsin pets your hair gently, smoothing it down, his other hand wrapped protectively around your waist where you straddle him.

The hand in your hair moves to your back, rubbing and massaging his fingertips into your taught muscles. "It's okay to not be okay," he says quietly. "All you have to tell me is 'I'm not okay' and I'm right here, alright, little dove?"

You nod blearily, sniffling against his shoulder.

"We'll get through this together. One step at a time, even if I have to hold your hand the whole way through."

-----------

This got so much longer than I thought it would oops, I'm having a night.

@halsinsgate Daddy Issues, rise!

[moonselune]

Inbox is open, you say? Here's an idea based on something that just happened during my current run: how would the companions react to a Tav who failed the save to reject the Astral-Touched Tadpole and is distraught at how her body's been changed against her will, and scared that she's going to lose her sense of self and become something monstrous? When this happened to me, most of the companions had little if anything to say about it, but Lae'zel and Halsin acted like I'd eaten it willingly and were really mean to me about it. :(

They are so mean ! And for what ! I'm tryna save your asses !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach’s heart broke the moment she saw you, trembling and wide-eyed, after the confrontation with the Astral-Touched Tadpole. The look in your eyes—a mix of shock, fear, and deep sorrow—was something that pierced her in a way that no blade or battle ever could.

You had tried everything to resist the tadpole’s corrupting influence, but it had finally sunk its claws into you, altering your body in ways you never asked for. You feared what came next: a loss of control, the destruction of your mind, and eventually becoming something unrecognizable, something monstrous.

Your body, once so familiar, now felt foreign. The changes weren't just visible; they pulled at your very essence, like you were slowly unraveling from the inside out. In that moment, it felt like everything was slipping away.

And Karlach… Karlach had been there through thick and thin, always smiling, always strong. But when she saw you like this, her heart ached in ways she hadn’t expected. This wasn’t a battle she could fight for you, and that helplessness gnawed at her. Still, she knew exactly what to do.

She crossed the camp swiftly, her warm, comforting presence surrounding you before she even spoke.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, sitting beside you and wrapping her arms around your shaking form. Her voice, usually loud and boisterous, softened to a tone meant only for you. “You’re safe. You’re still here with me.”

You clung to her, burying your face in her chest. Her heartbeat was strong and steady, the one thing that felt real when everything else seemed to be slipping away. But despite her comfort, the fear in you hadn’t faded.

“I-I couldn’t stop it, Karlach,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at her. “I… I tried everything. It’s… it’s changing me. I can feel it. What if I lose myself? What if I—" Your voice cracked, and you looked down at your hands, which had started to take on a faint, otherworldly sheen. “What if I become a monster?”

Karlach’s breath hitched in her throat. She could feel your fear like a palpable thing, pressing in on both of you. But she wouldn’t let it take you. Not while she was still here. She cupped your face in her hands, bringing your gaze to meet hers, her eyes filled with fierce determination.

“You listen to me,” she said firmly, but with tenderness, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You are not a monster. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me? No matter what this tadpole does, it doesn’t get to take away who you are.”

You blinked at her, overwhelmed by the conviction in her voice. The tears kept coming, but her words grounded you.

“But I feel… different,” you admitted quietly, almost ashamed. “What if I start thinking differently? What if I—” Your voice trailed off, too scared to finish the sentence.

Karlach shook her head, pulling you closer, her calloused hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. “Then I’ll be right there to remind you who you are. You think I’m going to let you go down without a fight? Hell no. I know you, better than anyone. You’re stubborn, and you’ve got a good heart—a heart I fell in love with. No tadpole can change that.”

She smiled softly at you, her touch radiating warmth as she brushed your hair back from your face. “And even if you start to feel lost, even if things get scary, you’re not doing this alone, alright? We’ll face it together. Whatever this tadpole does, it has to get through me first.”

The way she said it—so fiercely protective, so determined—made something inside you soften. You leaned into her, resting your head against her chest, letting her hold you as if nothing in the world could ever hurt you again.

“But what if I can’t… stop it?” you whispered after a moment. “What if I can’t fight it forever?”

Karlach’s arms tightened around you. “Then we’ll fight it together. You’ll have me by your side, every step of the way. And if things get hard, if you feel like you’re losing yourself, I’ll be there to pull you back. Every time.” She kissed the top of your head, her voice low and sincere. “You’re not losing yourself, love. Not while I’m here.”

You could hear the pain in her voice—the fear of losing you, of not being able to save you from this. But even more than that, you heard her resolve. She wasn’t going to let this thing win. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt a small flicker of hope.

“I love you, you know that?” you murmured, your voice quiet but sincere. It was all you could say in that moment—your way of thanking her for holding you together when you felt like you were falling apart.

Karlach’s chest shook with a quiet laugh, though you could hear the emotion behind it.

“I love you too, more than you know,” she replied, kissing your forehead once more. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

You nodded against her, letting her warmth and her unwavering strength comfort you. You knew the fight wasn’t over—far from it. But with Karlach by your side, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could keep hold of yourself. And as she held you in front of the fire, her presence chased away the darkness that threatened to engulf you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

You had locked yourself in your tent for days now, hiding from the world, and hiding from yourself. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had taken root in your mind, warping your body in ways that terrified you. It wasn’t just the physical changes—the strange, shimmering glow to your skin, the unnatural sharpness to your senses—it was the fear of what was happening inside. You could feel it tugging at your mind, whispering, and each day you felt like you were slipping further and further away from who you once were.

Fear clung to you like a second skin, suffocating, and no amount of logic or reasoning could break through the walls you had built around yourself. You refused to leave your tent, convinced that if you did, you would be stepping out as something monstrous, something no one—not even her—could bear to look at.

But Minthara wasn’t the type to wait around. You had learned that early on. Patience wasn’t a virtue she often entertained, especially when it came to things she cared about.

The tent flap was yanked open with force, the dim light of the camp spilling inside and casting long shadows across the floor. Before you could protest, Minthara stepped inside, her presence filling the small space as she glared down at you with a fierce intensity.

“Enough of this,” she snapped, her voice low and commanding. “You will not hide away like some coward over something as insignificant as this.”

Your heart leaped into your throat at her words. “Insignificant?” you choked out, your voice raw from disuse. “Minthara, look at me!” You gestured to yourself, your hands trembling as you did. “It’s changing me. My body, my mind… I don’t even recognize myself anymore. I can feel it inside me, twisting everything. I’m scared I’m going to lose control—lose myself—and turn into something… something horrible.”

Tears welled up in your eyes despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to cry in front of her—not Minthara, who was always so strong, so composed. But you couldn’t help it. The fear was too overwhelming.

For a moment, Minthara said nothing. She just stood there, looking down at you, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in your disheveled form. Then, with a huff of impatience, she knelt in front of you, grabbing your chin with firm but not painful force and forcing you to look at her.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice low but fierce. “You are not some fragile creature who will be undone by this. You are strong, stronger than most could ever hope to be. I have seen you in battle, seen you face down horrors that would make others cower. You think a tadpole—a mere parasite—is enough to destroy you?”

You opened your mouth to argue, to tell her that this was different, that this wasn’t something you could fight with sword or spell. But before you could speak, she continued, her voice taking on a softer, more dangerous edge.

“You are ethereal,” she said, her fingers brushing against your cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture. “Beautiful. Perfect. This tadpole may have changed you, but it has not taken away the essence of who you are. You are still mine.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and despite the fear still gnawing at your insides, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at her touch, at the possessiveness in her tone. Minthara was never one for sentiment, but when she spoke like this, you knew she meant every word.

“And if anything,” she added, a sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, “I should be the one sulking. I had hoped to claim the Astral-Touched Tadpole for myself. But now, you’ve gone and taken it from me.”

She said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that for a moment, you were stunned into silence. Then, as the absurdity of her words hit you, a laugh—small and hesitant—bubbled up from your chest. Minthara raised an eyebrow at you, her smile growing wider.

“There,” she said, releasing your chin and standing up. “That’s better. I would hate to think my lover had lost her sense of humor along with her sense of self.”

You wiped at your eyes, still feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you, but it was lighter now, less suffocating.

“You’re… really not upset about this?” you asked, your voice quiet but hopeful. Minthara sighed dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Upset? No. Mildly irritated that I wasn’t the one to receive the tadpole’s gifts? Perhaps.” She glanced down at you, her expression softening ever so slightly. “But I am not upset with you. You are still the person I chose, the person I… care for. And that will not change, no matter what happens.”

Her words, though delivered with her usual edge, sent a wave of relief washing over you. You hadn’t even realized how much you had been fearing her rejection, her disgust, until this moment. But here she was, standing before you, fierce and unwavering as ever, ready to stand by your side.

“Now,” she said, reaching down and pulling you to your feet with surprising gentleness, “you will stop this nonsense and come out of this tent. There are battles to be fought, plans to be made, and you will not do either from in here.”

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling the lingering fear, but Minthara’s steady presence bolstered you. She wasn’t going to let you fall, not like this.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

The campfire crackled softly as the evening air settled around you, a chill that you barely noticed compared to the storm of emotions raging inside. You sat a little ways from the others, staring blankly at your hands—the faint glow of the Astral-Touched Tadpole marking your skin, a constant reminder of your failure. No matter how hard you had fought, how desperately you had tried to resist, it hadn’t been enough. The tadpole had taken root, and now your body had begun to change against your will.

Your fingers trembled as you traced the strange, glowing veins that marked your skin. It felt wrong. You felt wrong. There was something unnatural about it, something that made you fear that this was only the beginning. What if the changes continued? What if you lost yourself entirely, became some mindless thrall, or worse—a monster?

You tried to push the thoughts away, but they kept coming, each more terrifying than the last. The fear settled like a weight in your chest, heavy and suffocating. And then there was her—Lae'zel. The words she had yelled at you echoed in your mind, sharp and cutting.

"You failed! You should have been stronger!" she had spat earlier, frustration and anger evident in her eyes.

She hadn’t meant it, not really, but it had stung. You had wanted to be strong. You had tried. But it wasn’t enough. Now, with the glowing marks on your body, you wondered if she would even want to stay with you. Lae’zel was fierce, a warrior of unwavering conviction. How could she look at you the same, knowing you had succumbed to the very thing she feared?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear her approach at first, the sound of her boots crunching on the dirt drowned out by your racing mind. It wasn’t until she stood right beside you that you glanced up, startled.

“Lae'zel…” you murmured, your voice raw with emotion.

Her expression was unreadable, her sharp gaze fixed on you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you palpable. Then, to your surprise, Lae'zel crouched down beside you, her eyes scanning your face before they fell to the glowing marks on your skin.

“I…” Lae’zel hesitated, something unfamiliar in her tone—something softer than you were used to. “I was wrong.”

You blinked, the words not quite registering at first. Lae’zel, so strong, so sure of herself, admitting she was wrong? It was almost impossible to believe.

She continued, her voice low and almost hesitant. “I lashed out at you earlier. I should not have. It was not your failure alone. It was mine as well. I should have fought harder for you—for us. I should have been by your side.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, not wanting her to see. The raw vulnerability in her voice only made the emotions you were trying to suppress come rushing to the surface.

“I tried, Lae’zel,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I tried so hard… but it wasn’t enough. Now, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m scared.”

Lae’zel’s eyes softened as she reached out, her hand hovering above yours for a moment before she gently took it in her own. Her grip was firm but careful, like she was afraid you might break.

“I know,” she said softly, surprising you once more with the gentleness of her tone. “And I am sorry. I should not have shouted. I let my fear and my anger control me. I feared losing you, and I lashed out.”

Her thumb stroked over the back of your hand, her touch grounding you in the moment. You could feel the warmth of her hand, the strength behind it, and it was enough to calm some of the panic swirling in your chest.

“I do not care what changes have taken place,” Lae’zel continued, her voice steady now. “You are still you. You are still the warrior I fell in love with. That will not change.”

“But what if I change?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I become something… something terrible? What if I lose myself?”

Lae’zel frowned, her brows furrowing as she considered your words. For a moment, you thought she might brush off your fears, tell you to be stronger, but instead, she surprised you yet again.

“If that happens,” she said slowly, “I will be here. I will stand by your side, no matter what. I will fight for you, just as I always have.”

You looked up at her, tears brimming in your eyes. “Even if I… even if I become something monstrous?”

Lae’zel’s grip on your hand tightened. “Even then,” she said firmly. “I will not abandon you. You are mine, and I do not abandon what is mine.”

Her words sent a wave of warmth through you, and for the first time since the changes had started, you felt a small flicker of hope. Lae’zel was many things—fierce, headstrong, relentless—but she was also loyal. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what happened, she would not let you face it alone. You let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest lifting just a little.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “I should have been stronger. I should have fought harder.”

Lae’zel shook her head. “There is no shame in what has happened,” she said firmly. “We cannot control everything. But we can fight. And we will fight this, together.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, your hand still held tightly in hers. Then, Lae’zel gently pulled you closer, wrapping her arms around you in a rare display of tenderness. You buried your face in her shoulder, letting the tears you had been holding back finally fall.

“I will not let you go,” Lae’zel whispered, her voice fierce and full of conviction. “No matter what happens, I will not let you go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at your reflection in the small, cracked mirror. Your skin had begun to shimmer unnaturally, an eerie, faint glow—just the beginning of what the Astral-Touched Tadpole had done to you. The mental changes were subtle at first, an unsettling awareness in the back of your mind, and a creeping, hollow feeling that you weren’t entirely yourself anymore.

Your hands trembled as you touched your face, fingers ghosting over the surface of your skin, trying to find something familiar beneath the changes. But it was hard to recognize yourself. It was like looking at a stranger. You felt alien, disconnected, like something deep within was slipping away, and you were powerless to stop it. You had failed to stop the tadpole from sinking its claws into your mind, your body.

That’s when Shadowheart found you. She had been looking for you in the camp, worried after the most recent battle had left you drained and withdrawn. The flap of the tent opened quietly, and her soft footsteps made their way toward you, but you couldn’t look at her. You couldn’t bear to see the concern in her eyes, the worry that you might be slipping away from her.

Her voice was gentle, yet full of that quiet strength you’d always admired in her.

“Hey… there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” She paused, noticing the way you were hunched over, staring at the mirror like it held all the answers to what was happening to you. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold it together, but your body betrayed you, a shudder running through you as you finally whispered, “It’s changing me.”

Shadowheart’s brow furrowed, her eyes scanning your reflection before they softened with understanding. She stepped closer, kneeling beside you. Her hand, cool and soothing, gently rested on your arm. “What do you mean?”

You turned to her, your voice shaking as you spoke, “I couldn’t stop it, Shadowheart. The tadpole—it’s changing me, inside and out. I feel… different. I don’t know how to fight this. I’m scared that I’ll lose myself, that I’ll become something—something monstrous.”

Her eyes darkened with emotion as she listened, the concern you had feared now apparent in her gaze. But instead of recoiling or showing the panic you expected, Shadowheart’s expression softened. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached out, cradling your face in her hands, her thumb brushing against your cheek as if to ground you, to keep you tethered to her.

“You’re not going to become a monster,” she said softly, her voice steady and firm. “I won’t let that happen. You’re still you, no matter what that damn tadpole tries to do.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head, unable to believe her. “But what if I’m not? What if it gets worse? What if I… lose control? What if I hurt you or the others?”

Shadowheart’s grip on your face tightened just slightly, her determination radiating through every word. “Then I’ll be there to stop it. But I don’t think it’ll come to that. You’ve always been stronger than you realize. I know you’re scared, and I know this is… horrifying. But you’re still in control. You still have a choice.”

Her words felt like a lifeline, something to hold on to as the panic and despair threatened to overwhelm you. You leaned into her touch, eyes searching hers for some glimmer of hope.

“How can you be so sure?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Shadowheart smiled softly, a hint of sadness in her eyes but also fierce conviction. “Because I know you. I’ve seen you fight—against impossible odds, against your own fears. And you’ve won every time. You’re not going to let this tadpole define you. You’re stronger than it.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak, but her words eased some of the tension in your chest. You wanted to believe her so badly, but the changes… the changes felt like they were happening faster than you could adapt to them. And you were terrified of waking up one day and not recognizing the person you’d become.

Seeing the turmoil still churning within you, Shadowheart leaned closer, pressing her forehead gently against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “I’m not going to let you go through this alone. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. I’m not leaving you, no matter what this tadpole tries to do.”

The warmth of her touch, the steadiness in her voice—it was enough to pull you out of your spiral, if only for a moment. You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as the weight of her promise settled over you. She wouldn’t abandon you. She was here, beside you, even in the face of something so terrifying.

You opened your eyes, finding hers filled with a fierce love that took your breath away. “But… what if I’m not me anymore?”

Shadowheart smiled, a gentle, loving smile that melted the fear just a little more.

“You’ll always be you. No matter how much this tadpole tries to twist things, the person I love is still in there.” She brushed her fingers through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear before whispering, “And I’m going to remind you of that every day if I have to.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but it wasn’t entirely from fear anymore. There was comfort in her words, in her presence. You rested your head against her shoulder, your body finally relaxing, if only slightly, as you let yourself lean into her.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you admitted, your voice small and vulnerable.

Shadowheart’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as she whispered, “You won’t. I’m right here.”

And for the first time since you felt the tadpole’s dark influence clawing at your mind, you believed her. You weren’t alone in this. And with Shadowheart by your side, maybe—just maybe—you could hold on to who you were.

As she held you, her hands gently stroking your back, you closed your eyes and let the warmth of her love, her strength, soothe the fear that had been gripping you for so long. You didn’t know what the future held, but you knew that with her, you wouldn’t face it alone. And that was enough—for now, it was enough.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

You sat alone at the edge of the camp, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the darkening horizon with a hollow feeling in your chest. The weight of the changes coursing through your body was too much to bear. It wasn’t just the physical transformation—the shimmering glow on your skin, the subtle shift in your senses—but the constant nagging feeling that something else was shifting inside you, something more sinister. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had burrowed into you, and you had failed to stop it. You felt its presence like a growing shadow, threatening to consume everything you were.

Jaheira had been keeping an eye on you all evening. She was never one for dramatic displays of affection, but her eyes often lingered on you when she thought you didn’t notice. You loved her for her strength, her pragmatism, but right now, the fear gripping your chest made you feel like a fragile shell of yourself. You were scared that you’d lose the person you were, that the tadpole would twist your mind, your soul, into something monstrous.

You hadn’t said a word to anyone about it, not even her. But Jaheira knew.

She approached you quietly, her footsteps sure but gentle, the kind of presence that didn’t need to make itself known. She settled beside you, her back straight and her hands resting casually on her lap. For a while, she didn’t say anything, simply sitting in the silence of the camp, the crackling of the fire in the background. The quiet companionship was comforting, but it wasn’t enough to ease the storm raging inside you.

After a moment, you spoke, your voice thick with the weight of your fear. “It’s changing me, Jaheira.” You couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t bear to see her reaction. “I’m not who I was… I don’t know what I’m becoming.”

Jaheira remained quiet for a beat, her expression unreadable, but you could feel her gaze on you. Finally, she let out a long breath, a mixture of calm and exasperation.

“You are letting this defeat you,” she said plainly, her voice steady but not unkind. You blinked, surprised by the bluntness of her words.

“What?” You turned to face her, finding no trace of pity in her eyes, only the pragmatic strength you had always admired. She wasn’t coddling you.

“I’ve watched you handle impossible situations before this,” Jaheira continued, her tone even. “You’ve faced down terrors that would leave others quaking, and now you sit here, mired in self-pity over something you cannot change.” Her gaze softened just slightly. “Dry your tears.”

Her words cut through your haze of fear, sharp and direct. You looked down, wiping at your face, realizing that tears had indeed begun to fall, though you hadn’t noticed. But the tears weren’t just out of fear—they were out of frustration. Frustration with yourself, with the situation, with the loss of control.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted, your voice small, but it held the weight of the turmoil you were feeling.

Jaheira shifted, her hand finding its way to your shoulder, her grip firm and grounding.

“You do what you’ve always done,” she said firmly. “You fight.”

You glanced at her, seeing the steady resolve in her eyes, the kind of resolve that had kept her alive through countless battles and tragedies. Jaheira was someone who never let herself be weighed down by the things she couldn’t change. She had learned to adapt, to find strength in what remained.

“But what if I’m not strong enough this time?” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice clear. Jaheira tilted her head, a small, wry smile pulling at the corner of her lips.

“You think strength is about not being afraid? That it’s about being invincible?” She shook her head, her hand squeezing your shoulder. “Strength is about pushing forward, even when you’re terrified. It’s about choosing who you are, no matter what the world or… some tadpole,” she said with a slight scoff, “tries to make of you.”

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of her words settling over you. She was right. It wasn’t about the changes or the fear. It was about who you chose to be, even when faced with something as horrific as the tadpole’s corruption. You had always fought for control over your fate, and this was no different. Jaheira leaned back slightly, watching you as you absorbed her words.

“You’re not going to lose yourself,” she said softly, her voice holding a rare tenderness that she reserved for moments like this. “Not while I’m here. Not while we are here.” Her hand moved to your chin, turning your face to meet her eyes. “But you need to stop wallowing in fear and start fighting back.”

Your chest tightened at the raw honesty in her gaze, the way she looked at you like you were still that same person she had fallen in love with, not some twisted creature on the verge of losing themselves. And in that moment, you realized that Jaheira wouldn’t let you fall. Not without a fight.

You managed a small smile, though it was shaky.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, the truth weighing heavy on your chest, but there was a shift in you now, a flicker of the determination that Jaheira had always seen in you.

“I know,” she said softly, her thumb brushing your cheek briefly before she pulled back, her eyes returning to their usual calm. “Fear is natural. But it doesn’t define you.”

You nodded, the knot of fear still there, but loosened by her words. The changes might be out of your control, but you still had a choice in how you faced them. And with Jaheira by your side, grounding you, reminding you of who you were, maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t lose yourself after all.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Jaheira gave you a small nod, her lips quirking into a slight smile.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she said, leaning in close enough that her forehead almost touched yours. “Just don’t make me repeat myself.”

Despite everything, you let out a quiet laugh, a tiny spark of hope returning to you. You weren’t alone in this. And with Jaheira’s unflinching pragmatism, her unwavering belief in you—you knew that somehow, you would find a way to face this challenge. Together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The campfire crackled gently, its warm glow a stark contrast to the cold dread sinking in your chest. You sat off to the side, hugging your knees to your chest, feeling the weight of the changes coursing through your body—the changes you hadn’t been able to stop. You ran a hand along your skin, now marked with the faint, shimmering lines of the Astral-Touched Tadpole’s influence.

You could hear the others moving about in the camp, their laughter and conversation, but it felt distant, disconnected from you. You were afraid—afraid that this was only the beginning, that soon you wouldn’t recognize yourself. What if you became something monstrous, a shell of who you once were? The thought twisted in your stomach, gnawing at you.

And then there was Gale.

He had been watching you for some time, his sharp mind always attuned to the subtle shifts in your mood. Gale could sense when you were withdrawn, and tonight, the heaviness in your heart was undeniable. He approached quietly, his steps soft but deliberate, and sat beside you without a word, his shoulder brushing against yours in a gesture of comfort.

You didn’t look at him. The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally did, a few silent drops trailing down your cheeks.

“I couldn’t stop it, Gale,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It’s changing me. I can feel it. I… I’m scared I’m going to become something else, something awful.”

Gale’s expression softened instantly. Without hesitation, he reached out and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that clung to your cheek.

“You’re not becoming something monstrous,” he said softly, his voice filled with such tenderness it made your chest ache. “You are still you, the person I love, the person who has faced down far worse than this.”

You swallowed hard, trying to fight back the swell of emotion in your throat. “But what if I lose myself? What if I… what if I can’t control it? I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Gale’s brow furrowed slightly as he shook his head. He shifted closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“You could never hurt me,” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Not you. Not the person I know. You’re stronger than this, and you’ll fight it. You always fight.”

You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. But the fear lingered, the doubt gnawing at your resolve.

“I don’t feel strong right now,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “I feel like I’m slipping away, bit by bit.”

Gale’s grip on you tightened, his arms encircling you completely as if he could shield you from your own thoughts. He leaned back slightly, gently guiding your face up so you could meet his gaze. His eyes were warm and filled with a kind of love that made your heart stutter.

“Then let me be strong for you,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “Let me remind you of who you are.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, and one on each of your cheeks. Each kiss felt like a promise, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this battle. That he would be with you every step of the way.

“You are fierce, courageous, and filled with so much light,” Gale murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “You’ve saved me more times than I can count. You’ve faced down gods, monsters, and even your own fears. This… this tadpole, this thing inside you? It doesn’t stand a chance against your will.”

His words were like a balm to the turmoil inside you, but still, the fear lingered.

“But what if I can’t…?” you started, but Gale hushed you gently, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer.

“You can, and you will,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt. “And when you doubt yourself, know that I will be here, loving you through every moment of it. Every inch of you, no matter what happens.”

You let out a shaky breath, resting your forehead against his chest as he held you tightly.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Gale let out a soft, affectionate laugh, his hand tracing soothing patterns on your back. “Nonsense. It is I who doesn’t deserve you. But I am hopelessly in love with you, so I suppose we’ll have to settle for being perfectly undeserving of one another.”

Despite everything, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Gale always had a way of making you feel like you were worth more than your fears, more than the darkness threatening to consume you.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes again, his own gaze brimming with affection.

“I love every part of you,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek again. “No matter what changes, no matter what happens, you will always be you. And I will always love you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

The night sky hung heavy above the camp, stars flickering like distant dreams far beyond your grasp. You sat alone by the campfire, legs tucked close to your chest, staring into the flames as they danced, casting fleeting shadows on your face. The warmth from the fire did little to soothe the cold fear twisting inside you.

You could feel the changes. The shimmering lines that traced over your skin, the faint glow of something unnatural stirring beneath. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had done its work, sinking its claws into your body, warping it—warping you. You fought so hard to resist it, to stop it. But you had failed. And now, the fear gnawed at your heart, whispering that you were losing yourself. That soon, you wouldn’t be you anymore. What would you become?

A quiet sound drew your attention, a soft footstep in the grass. You didn’t need to look to know who it was—Astarion. He was always so careful with his movements, every step deliberate, even when he wasn’t trying to be quiet. He had noticed your absence from the group, and of course, he had come looking for you.

“Brooding by the fire, darling? You’re starting to sound like me,” Astarion teased, his voice warm with amusement. But there was an undercurrent of something else—concern, though he would never show it outright. He moved closer, his footsteps light as always, and crouched down beside you, his sharp eyes searching your face.

You turned your gaze away from him, staring down at your hands instead. The shimmering lines on your skin caught the firelight, making you feel like a stranger in your own body.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes right now, Astarion,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Astarion’s brow furrowed, and he shifted his weight, sitting down fully beside you. He tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he took in the tension in your frame.

“What’s going on? You’ve been distant ever since…” He trailed off, his eyes flickering to the faint glow beneath your skin. “Since the tadpole’s changes started to show.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the rising lump in your throat. “I didn’t want this,” you said, voice trembling. “I tried so hard to stop it, but now… I don’t even recognize myself. It’s changing me, Astarion. I can feel it.” You finally turned to meet his gaze, tears threatening to spill over. “What if I lose myself? What if I become something… monstrous?”

The words hung heavy between you, and for a long moment, Astarion just stared at you, as though trying to comprehend the weight of your fears. You looked away again, unable to hold his gaze, your hands trembling in your lap.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “If you can’t handle… whatever I’m becoming, I would understand.”

Astarion blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Leave?” he repeated, the word sounding almost foreign on his lips. “Why in the Hells would I leave you?”

You glanced at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. Astarion’s expression shifted, something between confusion and hurt flashing in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, darling, but did I miss something? You think I would leave you because of this?” He gestured vaguely toward the shimmering lines on your skin. “This… tadpole nonsense?”

“I—” You faltered, the words catching in your throat.

Astarion scoffed lightly, but it wasn’t in his usual mocking tone. It was more… exasperated, as if the idea of leaving you was so absurd that he didn’t know how to process it.

“First of all, let me make one thing clear—I am not leaving you. Not now, not ever.” He leaned in closer, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter. “Do you honestly think I would abandon you after everything we’ve been through?”

He cupped your face gently, his cool fingers brushing against your skin with surprising tenderness.

“You did this for me,” he said softly, his voice laced with emotion. “For all of us. You fought this fight because you didn’t want to lose any of us, because you wanted to protect us. And now, you think I’d just… walk away?” Astarion let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve clearly forgotten who you’re dealing with, love.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “But what if I become something else?” you asked, your voice shaking. “What if I can’t control it? What if I lose myself?”

Astarion’s expression softened, and he leaned in even closer, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Then I’ll be there to remind you of who you are,” he whispered, his voice so tender it made your chest ache. “I won’t let you forget. You’re stronger than this. You always have been.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. His words soothed the fear gnawing at your heart, but still, the uncertainty lingered.

“I’m scared,” you admitted quietly.

Astarion pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek.

“I know,” he said softly. “But you don’t have to go through this alone. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

A small, wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Besides,” he added, his tone shifting back to its usual playful lilt, “you’re still devastatingly attractive. Astral-tadpole glow and all. If anything, it adds a bit of mystery, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“I don’t feel very attractive right now,” you muttered.

Astarion rolled his eyes dramatically. “Nonsense. You’re the most captivating creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I’ve lived for over two centuries.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment. “You’re still you, no matter what happens. And I love you. Tadpole and all.”

You smiled softly, the weight of your fears still there, but less suffocating with Astarion by your side. He always knew how to bring a bit of light into the darkest moments, and tonight was no exception.

As you leaned into his embrace, letting him hold you close, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as lost as you feared. Not with Astarion beside you, reminding you of who you were, and loving you through it all.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The camp was quiet, the crackling of the fire barely loud enough to drown out the swirl of emotions twisting in your chest. You sat by the fire, knees pulled close to your chest, staring blankly at your hands. The faint shimmer of the astral-touched lines that now marked your skin caught the firelight, making you feel like a stranger in your own body. The Astral-Touched Tadpole had done its work. You had tried so hard to fight it, to stop the transformation, but in the end, it had seeped into your very being.

You felt your heart clench at the thought. What were you becoming? Was this who you were now? Your skin glowed faintly, the unnatural light reminding you of your failure. A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, though it didn’t stop more from following. You tried to steady your breathing, but the fear was all-consuming—fear of losing yourself, of becoming something monstrous.

A familiar voice broke through the storm of your thoughts.

“Hey, there you are.” Wyll’s voice was soft, concerned, as he approached. His boots crunched lightly on the grass as he stopped just a few steps away. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You didn’t look up, still staring at your hands, at the changes you couldn’t undo.

“I don’t think you want to be here, Wyll,” you murmured, your voice low and trembling. Wyll knelt down beside you, his eyes full of concern.

“Why would you say that, love?” he asked, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against your arm.

You flinched slightly at the touch, though not from discomfort. You were scared—scared of what you were turning into.

“I failed,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I couldn’t stop it. The tadpole… it’s changing me. What if I become something terrible, something monstrous? What if I lose myself?”

Wyll’s expression softened, and he carefully reached for your hand, gently turning it over in his as he examined the glowing lines that marked your skin. He didn’t recoil, didn’t flinch or look at you with fear in his eyes. Instead, he gave you a small, understanding smile.

“You’re still you,” he said softly, his voice full of warmth. “These changes don’t define you.”

You shook your head, tears welling up again. “But what if they do? What if I lose control, Wyll? What if I forget who I am? I don’t… I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Wyll’s fingers tightened gently around yours, grounding you in the moment.

“You won’t lose yourself,” he said firmly. “You’re too strong for that. Too stubborn, too kind, too good to let that happen.”

You tried to pull your hand away, guilt and fear still clawing at you, but Wyll wouldn’t let you go. His grip was gentle but unyielding.

“Look at me,” he said softly.

Reluctantly, you met his gaze, your vision blurry with unshed tears.

“You are the bravest person I know,” Wyll continued, his voice unwavering. “You’ve faced impossible odds and never backed down. You’ve fought for the people you love, for strangers, for me. And nothing—nothing—can take that away from you. Not even this tadpole.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and Wyll wiped them away with his thumb, his touch tender and full of love.

“I’ve seen you at your strongest and your most vulnerable, and I love every part of you,” Wyll said, his voice soft but full of conviction. “This doesn’t change that. It doesn’t change you. You are still the person I fell in love with—the person I will always love.”

You shook your head, still feeling the weight of your fear pressing down on you. “But… what if I lose control? What if I forget who I am?”

Wyll stood, still holding your hand, and gently tugged you to your feet.

“Then I’ll be there to remind you,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. “I’ll be there every step of the way. You won’t go through this alone.”

Before you could protest, Wyll pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he held you against his chest.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You blinked, surprised by the request. “Wyll, I… I don’t think…”

He gently swayed, his hands guiding you into the rhythm. “Trust me,” he murmured. “Just let me hold you for a while.”

You hesitated for a moment, but the warmth of his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against yours, was too comforting to resist. Slowly, you let yourself relax into his arms, your head resting against his shoulder as he swayed you gently in time with the soft crackle of the campfire.

“There you go,” Wyll whispered, his voice soothing. “Just breathe. Just focus on me.”

He twirled you gently, his hand at the small of your back guiding you effortlessly. His warmth, his presence, was enough to momentarily quiet the storm raging inside you. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, the worries and fears momentarily forgotten in the comfort of his arms.

“You’re not alone in this, love,” Wyll murmured against your hair. “I’m with you. Always.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears drying as you leaned into him. “I’m scared, Wyll,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he said softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles against your back. “But I’m not going anywhere. We’ll face this together.”

For a while, you just let him hold you, the gentle sway of his movements easing the tension in your body. The fear still lingered, but it wasn’t as overwhelming now, not with Wyll by your side. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be lost in the moment, in the warmth of his embrace and the quiet comfort of his words.

As the fire crackled softly in the background, Wyll pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

“No matter what happens,” he whispered, “you will always be you to me. And I will always love you. Tadpole or not, you’re still my heart.”

You smiled faintly, your tears finally ceasing. For the first time since the changes began, you felt a flicker of hope, a glimmer of peace. And as you danced in the quiet of the night, held safe in Wyll’s arms, you knew that whatever came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The night was calm, but you couldn't find peace. You sat by the campfire, your knees drawn to your chest as you stared into the flickering flames, lost in the storm of your thoughts. The Astral-Touched Tadpole's presence in your body was a constant reminder of your failure—a failure to resist, to protect yourself from the changes it had begun to inflict on you. It had taken root, and no matter how hard you had fought, the battle had been lost.

Your fingers traced the faint, glowing lines that now ran along your arms, marking you as something… different. Something you didn’t recognize, and that thought terrified you. It wasn’t just the changes in your body that unnerved you, but the fear of losing who you were—your sense of self, your mind.

And then there was Halsin.

His reaction had stung more than anything else. When you had first told him what had happened, the horror in his eyes had been unmistakable. He had pulled away from you, his usual warmth replaced with cold, silent shock. His words were harsh and broke your heart. You had done it to save the group, to save him, and yet he had recoiled, reprimanded. That rejection made the weight in your chest all the heavier.

You hadn’t spoken to him since.

Now, as the fire crackled softly before you, you felt the loneliness settle in—a gnawing emptiness where Halsin’s presence should have been. You had always been able to count on him, his steady presence and his comforting words. But now, in the one moment you needed him most, he was absent.

A faint rustle of leaves caught your attention, and you glanced up to see Halsin approaching the campfire. His broad frame was silhouetted against the trees, his expression unreadable as he walked toward you. For a moment, your heart clenched, a mix of hope and fear swirling in your chest. Was he here to turn away from you again? To tell you that you had made a mistake too great to forgive?

He stopped a few steps away from you, his eyes locking with yours. There was a heaviness to his gaze, a sorrow that mirrored your own. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you thick with unspoken tension. Then, Halsin knelt beside you, lowering himself to sit on the ground, close but not too close.

"Forgive me," he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. "I reacted poorly. I let my fear guide my actions, and in doing so, I hurt you."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling into your chest. You had expected anger or disappointment—anything but this quiet admission of guilt.

"I… I didn’t know what to do," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I tried so hard to resist, but it was too much. And now…" Your gaze fell to your hands again, tracing the glowing veins that ran beneath your skin. "Now I don’t even know what I am anymore. I’m scared, Halsin."

He reached out then, his large hand covering yours gently. The warmth of his touch was a balm to the fear that had been clawing at your heart.

"I know," he said softly. "I can see the pain this has caused you, and I am sorry for adding to it. When I first saw what the tadpole had done, I… I was overwhelmed. It reminded me of the darkness I have seen, the corruption I have fought against for so long. But you are not corrupted. You are still you."

"How can you be sure?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What if I change? What if I become something… monstrous?"

Halsin’s grip on your hand tightened, firm but reassuring. "You are stronger than you realize," he said, his deep voice steady and filled with conviction. "This tadpole may have marked your body, but it does not define who you are. You are more than this—more than what has been done to you. And I will be with you, no matter what comes. I swear it."

His words brought a lump to your throat, and tears you had been holding back began to well up in your eyes.

"You… you pulled away," you whispered, the hurt still raw in your chest. "It felt like you didn’t want me anymore."

Halsin’s expression softened, a deep sadness crossing his face.

"I pulled away because I was afraid," he admitted. "Not of you, but of what I might lose if I couldn’t protect you. I have seen so much pain, so much loss, and I couldn’t bear the thought of watching the person I love slip away into something beyond my reach. But I see now that by pulling away, I was failing you in a different way."

You felt the tears spill over then, and you lowered your head, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Halsin shifted closer, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his strong embrace. You buried your face in his chest, the scent of earth and wildflowers familiar and comforting.

"You haven’t lost me," you choked out through the tears. "I’m still here, Halsin… I’m still me. But I don’t know how long I can hold on to that."

Halsin held you tighter, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Then I will help you hold on," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I will be here, every step of the way. You will not face this alone. I promise you, I will never abandon you."

His words wrapped around your heart like a lifeline, and for the first time since the tadpole had taken root, you felt a flicker of hope. Halsin wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t pulling away. He was staying, standing by your side just as he had promised from the beginning.

After a long moment, you pulled back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Halsin’s eyes were full of love and warmth as he cupped your cheek in his hand.

"You are not alone in this," he reminded you gently. "We are stronger together. Always."

You nodded, feeling the weight in your chest begin to lift, just a little.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice still shaky but steadier than before. "For not giving up on me."

Halsin smiled softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I could never give up on you," he said. "You are my heart. We will face whatever comes, together."

As you leaned into his embrace once more, the warmth of the fire and the steadiness of Halsin’s presence soothed your fears.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ooof a little hurt/comfort for y'all, hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[leighsartworks216]

Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

Y'ALL I ALREADY HAVE TOO MANY LINKS ON THE FIRST MASTERLIST ASDBHASD

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

BG3 Discord

Request Rules

Tag List Form

Astarion

On Purpose - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, references to manipulation, self-deprecation, references to dissociation, dissociation mention, hurt/comfort

-

To Be Warm And Comfy - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-deprecation, low self worth

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Je Te Laisserai Des Mots - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

-

A Spawn Could Get Used To This - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: embarrassment

-

No Alarms and No Surprises, Please - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: mentions of murder, tense moments, injury, burning flesh, bruises, bones breaking, blood mention, nausea mention, angst, literal hurt/comfort, soft Astarion moments

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I Can't Get Enough Of You - AO3 - Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: vaginal fingering, swearing, references to past sexual abuse (vague), alcohol mention, blood drinking mention

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Moon Blood - AO3 - Astarion x gn/fem!Tav/Reader (can be read by any gender period haver I just didn't know what to tag it as)

Warnings: blood, blood drinking, period fic, references to sex, swearing

-

Butterfly's Repose - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: nightmares, crying, references to past abuse, low self-worth, hurt/comfort

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Darlin' I'd Wait For You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

-

Say Something Loving - AO3 - Astarion x male!Tav/Reader

Warnings: manipulation, references to sex, low self-worth, swearing

-

Feel Good - AO3 - Astarion x transmasc!Tav/Reader x Gale Dekarios

Warnings: mentions of chest scars, insecurity, mentions/references to dysphoria, crying, implied sexual antics at the end

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My Dearest Prince - AO3 - Astarion x male!Tav/Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, marriage proposal, secret relationship, brief smut, light hurt/comfort, idk how royalty works

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Just A Trim - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: scissors, brief references to low self-worth, anxiety, pure fluff

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Follow You Down - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: fear of death, blood, mentions of death/dead bodies, religion, anxiety, fear, being trapped, crying, swearing, angst, hurt/little comfort, possibly OOC

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Brown Eyes - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, slight sexual implications

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Somethin' Stupid (Songfic) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: alcohol, referenced alcohol consumption, mentions of manipulation, slight hurt/comfort

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Pretty, Perfect Skin - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: swearing, biting, blood drinking mention, hair pulling

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Nuptial Bed - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, blood, blood drinking

Fem and Masc versions on AO3

-

Not Tonight. Not To You. Never Again. - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader (can be read as platonic)

DEALS WITH HEAVY THEMES Warnings: drugging, references to sexual assault, swearing, blood, murder, slight protective Astarion, no actual assault happens, hurt/comfort

-

Good Boy - AO3 - Astarion x transmasc!Tav/Reader x Gale Dekarios

SMUT Warnings: oral (w vagina), threesome, top Astarion, bottom Gale, praise kink, hair pulling, slight scent kink, some nipple play, mentions of top surgery scars

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You Are Mine. Never Forget It. - AO3 - Ascended Astarion x gn!Spawn!Tav/Reader

SPICY Warnings: ascended Astarion, dom/sub, obedience/controlling, blood, blood drinking

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The Sleeper VS The Insomniac - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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Your Rogue - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, Karen, so many italics

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Where Can I Touch You? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!plus-size!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: swearing, body and self-worth issues, some discussion of boundaries, oral (Tav receiving), hair pulling, masturbation

-

Migraine Pains - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: migraine descriptions, pain, light angst if you squint, swearing, OOC Shadowheart

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The Burlesque Boutique - AO3 - Astarion x Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: explicit smut, crying, orgasm denial, swearing, one reference to past trauma, pegging

Male/masc/AMAB version

GN/Fem version (strap-on)

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Safety - AO3 - Astarion & nb!OC

Warnings: references to past abuse, nightmares, swearing, panic, blood

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Love Sick - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: references to Astarion's 200 years under Cazador

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A Couple Hours - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: nudity, bathing together, very slight angst

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This Is Nice - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: references to Astarion's time under Cazador

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Live For Me - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST

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Remedies - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: pain, crying

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Morning Adoration - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: sex mention, talk about how you smell (/pos)

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Insolent Little Brat - AO3 - Ascended!Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: blood, choking, biting, spicy, (unhealthy) power dynamics

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Obedient Pet - AO3 - Astarion x male!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: swearing, dacryphilia/crying, dom/sub, collars, gagging, not being able to breathe (for a moment), anal sex, face-fucking, references to punishment

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Tell Me More (Tomorrow) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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Wyll Ravengard

Horn Care - AO3 - Wyll x male!OC

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and food, possibly OOC

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Cure Wounds - AO3 - Wyll x male!OC

SMUT Warnings: swearing, scratching, marking each other (hickeys), bruises, brief mention of battle scars, anal fingering and sex, possibly OOC

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Dragon Slayer - AO3 - Wyll x male!OC

Warnings: swearing, crying, hurt/comfort, descriptions of violence

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Dominate Person - AO3 - Wyll x male!OC

DEALS WITH HEAVY THEMES Warnings: swearing, blood, gore, violence, possession, mentions of vomiting, minor religious reference, grief, character death, broken bones (nose)

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A Decent Man - AO3 - Wyll x AFAB!Tav/Reader

Warnings: period fic, blood, menstruation, anxiety, embarrassment

-

Halsin Silverbough

Endings and Beginnings - AO3 - Father-figure!Halsin & gn!OC

DEALS WITH HEAVY THEMES Warnings: references to past abuse, depression, self-destructive behaviors, crying, animal death, hurt/comfort

-

Haarlep

Little Mouse - AO3 - Haarlep x Tav/Reader + Raphael

DEALS WITH HEAVY THEMES Warnings: implied non-con, rough sex, vaginal or anal sex, blood

-

[rosieofcorona]

The Shape of Your Hands

Guess who's back with another soft Halsin x Tav fic. Literal (but very mild) hurt/comfort themes, so TWs for: blood, stitches, minor injury. Also on AO3, if you prefer. Thank you for reading! 💕

“You seem impatient,” Tav observes, as Halsin fiddles with his whittling knife.

In his opposite hand, he holds a piece of wood so sharp it could rival a blade. He had intended it to take the shape of something pleasing, something soft– a songbird, perhaps, or a poppy flower. The shape of her hands. The long fingers, the slender wrist. 

Instead, he has made a weapon. 

He is consumed by thoughts of Thaniel, resting fitfully in his tent, and of Oliver, somewhere out there beyond camp. Of the curse that split them, ripped the very fabric of nature down the middle, and cloaked them all in unending, unyielding night. He slices absently at the wood, over and over, the shavings piling in little coils at his feet. 

“It’s been a century of this,” he sighs, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. “I am anxious to end it.”

“As we all are.” 

“Then why idle here in camp?” He takes a tone he doesn’t mean to, but cannot seem to help. 

“We are not idling,” Tav bristles. “We are spent. Even your magic– even Gale’s magic– is depleted in this place.” 

It’s the truth, though Halsin is loath to admit it. The Shadowlands weaken even the most powerful among them. Bend them. Break them. He has seen it. 

“We will gather ourselves,” she goes on, “And we will finish this. After a hundred years, what’s one more day?”

“What’s–?” Halsin’s frustration sneaks up on him, crashes over them both like a rogue wave. “You do not understand. One more day is one more day, when one more hour, one more moment is insufferable–” 

His knife cuts in, literally, the sharpened edge slipping past the grain and into his finger, deep enough to make him drop the wood, to suck in a breath through his teeth. 

It distracts him for a moment, forces his anger back onto himself. Or perhaps that’s where the anger’s always been. It is his fault, he knows, that this has gone on so long, that the shadow-curse has been allowed to linger. If he had been wiser, less distracted, less careless–

Careless. He almost laughs at the irony of the moment, the cut on his hand pulsing.

“Here,” says Tav, softening. “Let me help.”

She comes to kneel before him, takes his blade and sets it gingerly beside her on the ground. It glints in the firelight in a way that makes it look like it’s winking, taunting him as a little rivulet of blood flows down his palm. 

“It’s nothing,” Halsin insists, though the grimace on his face gives him away. “I can heal it.” 

“You ought to save your energy. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

She is holding his big hand in both of hers, turning it carefully this way and that, examining the damage. 

“I can stitch it, if you like,” she offers, flicking her eyes up to his. “Astarion’s been teaching me.”

“To stitch wounds?”

“Well, to embroider.” She gives a sheepish little grin. “But he says I’m very precise. And he’s not the type to lie to spare my feelings.” 

Halsin nods his consent. 

Tav stands and walks toward her tent, and Halsin presses his other hand into the cut to stem the bleeding. It would be easier to cast something simple, he thinks, but she’s right– to use his magic on so small a thing, with all that was still to come, would be a waste. 

Through the firelight he sees her silhouette returning, supplies in hand. 

“Come closer,” she says, settling cross-legged before the fire. “Put your hand here.” 

She shows him, places her own hand on the edge of her knee. 

“I’ll get blood on you,” he cautions, but she only laughs at that. 

“You would not be the first.” 

Halsin does what she asks of him, sits across from her and rests his hand, palm side-up, on her leg. She bends close to examine it again, to wipe away the blood with a soft white cloth. 

“I owe you an apology,” Tav says softly. “I forget, sometimes, how long you have been fighting, when I have only just picked up a sword.”

He feels the prick of the needle, the pull of the thread. The whisper of breath on his skin. 

It is equal parts reward and punishment to have her this close, this way. To have her tend to him, to touch him and not be able to touch her back. Not in all the ways he wants to. 

This is the part he doesn’t tell her, the part she doesn’t understand. It’s not the shadow-curse alone that feels so urgent. Each day in darkness is a day he cannot make his feelings known– a different kind of torment, but not lesser.

They sit in silence until she finishes. A final knot, a cut of the thread, and she sits back on her heels to inspect her work. Six tidy little sutures in a tidy little row. 

Astarion was right. 

This is the kind of thing he taught his students in the Grove, before the war, before the curse, when he was not yet named Archdruid. When things were simpler.

When he thanks her she relaxes, swipes at her brow with the back of her hand. She leaves the barest streak of blood trailed like a comet across her temple, and Halsin, without thinking, reaches forward to wipe it away. 

If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. Tav seems to turn into his touch, to feel as much of him as possible, to rest the softness of her cheek against his fingers. 

He wants to kiss her in this moment, just like this. 

It would be easy to lean forward and press his lips to hers– only gently, at least at first, harder if she reciprocated. He can imagine her soft hair woven between his fingers, later wrapped around his fist as his mouth moved down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. 

He can almost feel her weight on him, can almost hear the little sounds that he could draw from her if she would let him try. If he would let himself. 

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Tav smiles. 

She sweeps the thought from his mind like a hand passing through smoke. It’s for the best, Halsin thinks. They cannot afford distractions now. 

Still, it doesn’t stop him placing a kiss against her forehead, or stroking her cheek with his thumb one final time. 

He reassures her. “There is nothing to forgive.”

He resolves that when they leave here– if they leave here– he will tell her all the things he feels out loud.

One more day.

[aethes-bookshelf]

empty eyes, emptier words || astarion/tav/halsin

I've been stuck in BG3 hell since the game first came out. I'm still in there. I don't think I'll be coming out anytime soon, so have this piece of angst. If everything goes well, maybe I'll deliver on some devil fucking (ft. Haarlep & Raphael). But that's a big IF.

For now, take this. I wrote it in class. I was supposed to be paying attention, but I made this instead. Bon appétit.

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, tav straight up fucking dies

Pairing: astarion/tav/halsin

Wordcount: 1.4k

Summary: Orin knew exactly who to take to hit those troublesome True Souls the hardest. Their leader was the obvious choice - a chicken can only run so far if you take its head. Tav would make a beautiful sacrifice for Bhaal.

And if anyone came to try and get them back? All the better. Blood will flow either way. And what a sight it'll be.

[I made some changes to Orin's dagger. Now, whoever gets killed with it can't be resurrected. Or can they?]

ao3 link || part 2

Orin turned around at the first sound of footsteps. She brandished her dagger, her Netherstone embedded in the cold metal of the weapon. She was standing on the sacrificial altar at the center of the temple. Beneath her laid Tav, arms and legs bound. They were unconscious, fresh and old wounds littering their body. The little clothing they wore stuck to their skin, wet with blood. The smell of it hit Astarion like a club to the head. He hated how his mouth instantly watered, hunger rearing its ugly head.

‘I don’t smell Gortash’s rot on you,’ Orin said, crouching by Tav’s body. She dragged her blade across their skin. Fresh blood bubbled to the surface. Tav didn’t even flinch. They were barely breathing.

‘Did it think it could trick me? Did it think it could save?’ Orin taunted, her dagger stopping right over Tav’s heart. Astarion could hear its faint beating.

The heat of Karlach’s anger burned the air around her. ‘I hope you’re not about to do what I think you are. For your sake.’ Her massive ax sliced through the pungent air, tail swishing behind her.

Halsin didn’t speak, but his eyes glowed bright gold. His hands were clenched at his sides, anger barely restrained.

Astarion unsheathed his own daggers, their weight a fleeting comfort. ‘You lay one more finger on them, I’ll rip your throat out,’ he said. A growl ripped itself out of his throat.

‘Your teeth aren’t sharp enough to pierce my throat,’ said Orin. The tip of her dagger sank into Tav’s chest. ‘Not enough to slice my flesh, taste my blood.’ She drew back her hand, dagger rising into the air. A speck of blood followed its tip.

Astarion clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. His upper lip drew back; he bared his fangs on instinct.

‘Even if you kill them, all you’ll achieve is pissing us off,’ said Karlach. Her words were confident, but her voice betrayed her; she was afraid. ‘We’ll just bring them back so they can spit on your fucking corpse after I split you in half, you crazy bitch.’

None of them liked the way Orin laughed at those words. ‘“Bring them back”? Not here. Not with Bhall’s blessing.’ She grinned, showing all of her teeth. ‘They’ll be the first sacrifice of the night. Then I’ll spill your blood and guts on their flayed skin.’ A shiver ran through Orin as she brought her dagger down.

The blade sank into Tav’s chest with a sickening squelch. They gasped, body going rigid for just a second. Then they went limp.

Astarion’s scream rang through the still air as Karlach charged the altar.

* * *

Astarion knelt down by the bodies laying on the stairs and started rifling through their pockets.

‘What the hell are you doing, Fangs?’ asked Karlach. Tears were evaporating off of her face, her infernal engine still hot with her battle rage. The ashes of a used scroll of revivify were cooling at her feet. The spell's energy had already ran out and Tav was still limp, their body slowly going rigid.

‘I’m looting, can’t you tell?’ Astarion’s voice was snappy, but even. ‘Tav’s usually the one to take everything that’s not nailed down but they obviously can’t do it this time, can they?’

He leaned down over a pile of smoking bones and burned blood that used to be a man once. ‘They always find something for us in these piles of trash, I thought it’d be… nice to do the same for them for once.’ He managed to fish out a rusted dagger from underneath the pile.

‘Astarion,’ said Karlach, voice breaking.

‘Besides, their favorite tea ran out a few days ago, so we’re gonna need stuff to sell.’ He leaned over the pile of Orin’s gore next. ‘Tav spent most of our money on some new armor for you and Gale, and that tea’s expensive, you know?’ He took Orin’s dagger. His hands were shaking.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach tried again. The low hiss of evaporating tears got louder.

‘They deserve to drink something good when they come back, no?’ Astarion stood up straight. His grip on Orin’s dagger was so tight his chuckles went paper-white.

‘Astarion,’ Karlach’s voice was low and thick with tears, ‘I don’t think they’re coming ba—’

‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ Astarion was quick to turn around and point the dagger at Karlach’s chest. ‘Don’t you dare finish that sentence.’ For the first time since they arrived at the temple, his voice broke. ‘Of course they’re coming back. Why do we keep that creepy skeleton around if not to bring us back in times like these?’

His eyes watered. ‘They’re coming back. They have to. They must. Even if that means I’ll have to drag them out of the Hells myself.’

Astarion’s eyes wandered to Tav’s broken corpse. They were still laying on the altar, the stone of it slick with their drying blood. He couldn’t see their face; Halsin’s shoulders were obstructing the view. Astarion could swear the druid was shaking too.

‘Halsin, they’re coming back, right? They’re coming back!’ If Astarion’s heart still beat, it’d be fluttering with rising panic.

Halsin’s voice was low and quiet. He kept stroking Tav’s matted hair as he spoke. ‘I’m not sure they will, my friend.’

Those words punched all air out of Astarion’s lungs. Fury replaced it.

‘Shut up!’ he screamed; his voice echoed in the empty temple. ‘We were supposed to have decades together. Decades! They can’t leave yet. They promised!’ His knees buckled. With every word he spoke, he sank lower and lower, until his knees hit the cold stone beneath him. ‘They promised we’d… We were supposed to find a way for me to be in the sun again,’ his voice faded into silence.

Astarion couldn’t speak anymore. His chest clenched and his eyes burned. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage and kill, and tear. He wanted to bring Orin back just so he could send her to her blasted god all over again. He wanted to hear Tav laugh at one of his stupid jokes.

His throat was clenched so tight not even sobs could escape it. He was vaguely aware Halsin’s shoulders were openly shaking with his grief, but he couldn’t bring himself to comfort the druid. That would mean looking at Tav’s empty eyes. That would make this entire nightmare real. So very, terribly real.

Astarion’s grip on Orin’s dagger loosened; the weapon fell with a loud cling, its Netherstone slipping out of it. The stone shone dimly in the light of the torches.

All of it for these stones. All this death, pain and misery for these three pieces of one whole. Tav died for it.

Meaningless, meaningless, meaningless. All of it. All of it!

Astarion’s mind was reeling; jumping from pain to denial to anger to desperation. He didn’t know what to do. Tav would know, he thought, and a fresh wave of tears fell.

Karlach laid a hand on his shoulder. She’d cooled down enough for her touch to be only slightly painful on his corpse-cold skin. ‘We have to go, Fangs. Halsin.’ Her grip on Astarion tightened when he shook his head. ‘We have to go,’ she repeated, harsher this time. Barely restrained emotion shook her voice. ‘If they even can come back, we need to get them back to camp as soon as possible.’

Halsin took a deep breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. ‘Karlach’s right,’ he said and stood up. Tav was limp as he cradled them close to his chest. To his heart. ‘If we stay here too long, we’ll certainly lose them for good.’ The druid squared his shoulders and turned to face the other two.

Astarion went rigid at the sight of Tav’s hand, limply hanging off the side of their body. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at their face.

‘Astarion,’ Halsin’s voice was soft, ‘I understand your pain. They are in my heart as they are in yours. But we mustn't waste time lest we lose them forever. If there is a chance to save them, we must act now.’

Astarion swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. The chill of death had never been more present in his bones. He nodded, silent, and picked up Orin’s dagger and Netherstone.

‘Let’s go,’ said Karlach, new-found determination on her face. ‘We still have to buy their favorite tea after this, right? How’d you put it, Fangs? “They deserve to drink something good after this”?’

Astarion nodded. He didn’t trust his voice not to break if he spoke. There was an empty, far-away look in his eyes.

As they left the temple of Bhaal, the sweet stench of blood followed them out.

[lanafofana]

(belated) WIP wednesday

I had this thought for a real angst fest of a fic where Gale loved Tav but had to stand by while she romanced Astarion and Halsin. After Tav becomes illithid her lovers leave her and, unwilling to let herself become a threat to anyone, kills herself quietly in solitude. This is a tiny excerpt where the tadfools reunite after finding out what happened.

“Well, you understand, Halsin,” Astarion says, looking for an ally. “You left her too.” 

“That was different.” 

A soft voice rises in challenge. “Was it indeed?” Gale, three sheets to the wind, isn’t looking at any of them. He’s spent the night alternating between staring out the window or into the depths of his whiskey. 

“Of course, I still loved her. Her form didn’t change that.” 

Gale’s bleary gaze finds Halsin’s and the accusation in them is scorching. “Your love,” he scoffs. “Your love didn’t stop you from leaving her alone though did it? How’s that haven you’ve been building out in the wilderness, eh? What a grand idea, I’m sure she was so happy for you too. Wouldn’t have even dreamed of imposing but, then, you didn’t even think to ask her to come with you did you?”

Halsin is the first to look away, something like shame coiling in his chest. It was true. He’d been thinking about how difficult her future was going to be, how grim to face such circumstances alone. Comforting her with assurances that nature would provide a place for her. And then he had left her to her fate all the while carving out a place for those seeking shelter and community. “The people–” he begins to explain but Gale’s eyes are bright and his tone is vicious. 

“You didn’t even try.” 

Astarion rolls his eyes. “It’s not like we could even be sure it was still her in there.”

“I was,” says Gale. "I was sure." There is no disguising the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes as he turns away, back to his corner by the window, gazing out at the night sky. “I did my duty, as she advised, I returned the crown to Mystra, and I came back to help my...my dear friend. I was going to invite her to Waterdeep for a spell, if her lovers could bear the separation so soon after our…victory.” Disgust colors his tone. “But I was too late.” He drains his glass and sniffs. “Always too fucking late.” 

His glass smashes against the wall. Halsin flinches but Astarion is cool, composed. Disaffected. Gale has the insane urge to claw his eyes out.