#i have no explanation for wyll and gale though

[i-made-a-bg3-blog]

It actually makes perfect sense that Astarion has visible abs, now that I think about it. You really think he's getting his 8 glasses a day? Hell no, that man is dehydrated as fuck.

[moonselune]

I don't know of you have done something like this, but if not, could you do scenarios for the dark au where tav gets hurt by someone who wants to take their place? Maybe they think they are unworthy? Adore your writing 😊

Ahhh thank you so much !! This was super fun to write !

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Replacement

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin, GrandDuke!Wyll

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, blood, murder, F!reader only noticeable in Wyll's though

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Conqueror Minthara:

The dark silence of the Underdark gardens wrapped around you like a shroud, broken only by the echo of your own hurried footsteps. The recent fight with Minthara had left you frustrated, her possessive nature grating at you until you’d finally stormed off. You knew it would unsettle her; Minthara wasn’t one to let anyone, least of all you, slip from her grasp so easily. Still, you had hoped she’d give you a moment to breathe. As you heard footsteps approaching, you rolled your eyes, assuming she had come after you, too possessive to let even a single disagreement take you from her.

But something felt wrong.

The figure moving toward you was silent, controlled—lacking Minthara’s usual predatory grace. You barely had time to react before you saw a glint of steel, and a sharp pain seared across your side. You stumbled backward, clutching the wound, blood slipping through your fingers. As you looked up, your gaze met with the cold, disdainful eyes of Minthara’s second in command, the drow who had always regarded you with thinly veiled contempt. Her smile was a twisted thing, cold and malicious.

“Surprised?” she sneered, moving closer, her weapon dripping with your blood. “You really thought Minthara would care about some pet who has no place here? I’m going to end this—make it look like you couldn’t handle the Underdark after all. That you tried to escape. Minthara will believe it. She’ll have no choice but to move on.”

A chill ran through you as you realized the depth of her envy. This wasn’t just hatred; it was the envy of someone who despised what you had with Minthara, resenting that Minthara would choose you over anyone else. She stepped forward again, preparing to strike. But before she could make contact, you shoved her back with all the strength you could muster, sending her stumbling.

She staggered, then stopped short as her back hit something solid.

No… someone.

The second-in-command whirled around, eyes widening in horror as she came face-to-face with Minthara herself, who stood in the shadowed path with a deadly calm. Minthara’s gaze was dark, her face set into an expression of quiet, simmering rage that made the air feel even colder. Her eyes flicked from her subordinate’s trembling form to the blood dripping from your wound, taking in the entire scene in an instant.

“It’s not what—” the second-in-command stammered, scrambling for words, but Minthara cut her off with a look that could freeze fire.

“Silence.” Her voice was low, yet filled with an icy fury that sent a shiver down your spine. She reached out with a quick, brutal motion, grabbing her second-in-command by the throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off any attempt at explanation. The drow gasped for air, her eyes wide with terror as Minthara’s grip tightened, her nails digging into the delicate skin of her neck.

Minthara leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper.

“You thought you could lay a hand on what belongs to me? You dared to assume you had any right to touch them?” With a powerful surge, Minthara threw her to the ground, her movements sharp and precise, her eyes blazing with an almost unhinged rage. “You’ll wish for death before I’m done with you.”

The second-in-command lay incapacitated, her body twitching as Minthara’s magic left her unable to move, trapped in a state of suspended agony. Only then did Minthara turn her attention to you, her expression softening slightly as she moved toward you with an almost predatory care. She knelt beside you, her hand reaching out to steady you as she examined the wound on your side.

“You were hurt,” she murmured, a faint trace of anger still lacing her tone, but there was something else, too—a flicker of concern beneath the dark fury. She ran a gentle hand over your wound, applying enough pressure to stem the bleeding, her touch unexpectedly tender.

Despite the pain, you found yourself laughing, a soft chuckle that echoed through the silence.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me out of your sight,” you managed, your voice laced with irony. “Couldn’t lose control over me for even a moment, could you?”

Minthara’s eyes met yours, a dangerous glint in them, but there was something close to satisfaction there too.

“And a good thing it was,” she replied, her lips curving into a dark smile. “Or perhaps I would’ve had to hunt down the fool who thought they could steal you from me.”

Her hand moved from your wound to cradle your face, her thumb tracing your cheek in a gesture that was both possessive and strangely affectionate.

“You belong to me,” she whispered, her voice fierce. “No one else. Don’t ever forget that.”

She helped you to your feet, her arm around your waist, her grip both a support and a reminder of her control. You leaned into her touch, feeling the strength in her hold, the unyielding protection that came with her possessive love.

Behind you, her second-in-command lay helpless, bound by Minthara’s spell, and you knew without a doubt that her fate would be brutal. You didn’t need to watch to know that Minthara’s punishment would be swift and merciless. She would make an example out of her former subordinate, a warning to anyone who dared threaten what was hers.

As Minthara led you back through the garden, her hand firm around you, you felt a mixture of relief and resignation. She had saved your life, yes, but the possessiveness that drove her had been there all along, the dark and consuming love that wouldn’t allow you even a moment of freedom. She had saved you, but it was all to preserve what she saw as hers.

The pain in your side pulsed, but Minthara’s hand remained steady on your waist, her grip almost comforting in its possessiveness. In her twisted mind, her actions were justified. She had protected you, saved you from harm—she would do anything to keep you, even if that meant wrapping you tighter in her control.

As you walked together, you glanced up at her, and for a moment, you thought you saw a hint of something soft in her gaze. But then her expression shifted, her smile dark and triumphant. In her mind, she had won; she had kept you safe, defeated any threat to her claim on you.

And as she led you deeper into her realm, into the shadows where you would remain by her side, you knew that you would always be hers.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The courtyard of the cloister was cloaked in the muted gray light of early morning, shadows creeping along the stone walls as you squared off against your opponent. You took in the young Sharran before you, an ambitious acolyte whose eyes gleamed with a familiar hunger—a dangerous mix of ambition and jealousy.

You’d noticed their glances toward Shadowheart, the way they lingered when she walked past, barely concealing the devotion in their gaze. It was almost amusing to you, for no one in this cloister could threaten the place you held at her side. The memory gaps may have left holes in your mind, but your body moved with sharp, instinctual precision, honed through countless battles. You didn’t need memory to remind you that you were one of the best.

You circled each other, fists raised, and the acolyte’s stance was confident, too confident. You could feel the arrogance radiating from them, and it made you chuckle under your breath. They thought they were someone to be feared, someone with the skill to challenge you. And yet, as the fight began, it was clear they had underestimated your reflexes, your raw power.

Blow after blow, you dodged, struck, and blocked with a near-effortless grace that left them seething. It was obvious now they were outmatched, but there was no sign of retreat in their eyes. Instead, their lips curled into a sneer, and they muttered something under their breath—something too low for you to hear, but the bitterness was evident. And then, with a swift, practiced motion, they reached inside their cloak and pulled out a dagger, its blade glinting sharply in the dim light.

You felt a flicker of surprise. This was supposed to be a sparring match, nothing more, and yet they’d brought a knife into the fight. You tensed, muscles coiling as your eyes narrowed on the blade in their hand.

“So,” they taunted, their voice laced with venom, “the Mother Superior’s pet isn’t as sharp as she used to be. Gaps in memory, isn’t it? She doesn’t tell you everything, does she? How does it feel to be kept like a mindless tool, only good for taking orders?” They circled closer, eyes glinting with malicious amusement. “You don’t belong by her side. You’re just… convenient. Nothing more.”

The words stung, gnawing at the back of your mind. It was true that there were holes in your memories, pieces that didn’t quite fit, details that you couldn’t fully recall. But you pushed the thoughts aside, refusing to let them take root. Whatever was missing, whatever had been forgotten, it didn’t matter. You were here, and you were hers. That was all that mattered.

But the Sharran sensed your hesitation, a flash of doubt, and they pressed their advantage, lunging forward with the dagger. You dodged, narrowly avoiding the blade as it sliced through the air, but their relentless attacks began to push you back. You caught glimpses of their smirk, their taunting gaze, as if they were relishing every missed block, every moment of weakness.

And then, in a swift, brutal move, they managed to slip through your guard, the dagger cutting across your arm. You hissed in pain, blood dripping from the fresh wound, and you staggered back, feeling the weight of the fight suddenly shift. They saw the opening, and their eyes lit up with a triumphant gleam. They lunged forward again, the dagger poised for the killing blow.

But just as the blade was about to strike, they stopped—frozen in place, eyes wide with terror. Their limbs were rigid, locked in a stance of helpless fury, and a faint, dark aura shimmered around them. You looked up, following the line of their terrified gaze, and saw her.

Shadowheart stood at the edge of the courtyard, her eyes blazing with fury, her hand raised in a silent spell. With a flick of her wrist, the Sharran acolyte’s head twisted sharply, an audible snap echoing through the air as their body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

For a moment, the only sound was your own ragged breathing as Shadowheart strode forward, her expression a cold mask of wrath. She didn’t even glance at the fallen acolyte, her focus entirely on you. She knelt beside you, her hands gentle as they traced over the wound on your arm, her fingers glowing with a faint healing light.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft, a sharp contrast to the deadly fury she had just displayed.

You nodded, your gaze flicking between her and the lifeless body nearby.

“They… they mentioned something about gaps in my memory,” you said cautiously, searching her eyes. “They said I don’t belong here. That I don’t know the whole truth.”

A shadow passed over her face, and for a moment, her grip on your arm tightened slightly. But then she softened, her fingers brushing over your skin as if to soothe the hurt beyond the physical wound.

“They were just trying to weaken you, to plant seeds of doubt in your mind,” she replied, her voice steady and calm. “Your place is here, with me. By my side. You belong nowhere else.”

She leaned closer, her gaze locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “The gaps in your memory… they’re a consequence of the life you had before. A life that no longer matters. I saved you from that. I brought you here, to the cloister, where you can be who you’re meant to be. With me.”

The warmth of her magic seeped into your wound, and you felt the pain ebb away, replaced by a comforting numbness. The lingering doubt in your mind was overshadowed by the strength of her conviction, her unwavering belief in the path she had set for you. Shadowheart was your anchor, your guiding star, and you could feel the weight of her possessive devotion wrapping around you, a reminder that whatever had come before no longer held any power over you.

You managed a small smile, nodding as you reached up to brush a hand over her cheek, feeling the coolness of her skin.

“I trust you,” you murmured. “And I’m grateful to be by your side.”

She returned your smile, her gaze softening as she covered your hand with her own.

“Good. Because that’s exactly where you belong.” She cast one last, dismissive glance at the body of the acolyte, her lips curling in distaste. “No one else will threaten you. They don’t deserve to stand in your shadow.”

As she helped you to your feet, her arm wrapped around your waist, guiding you back to the cloister, the doubt faded away entirely. Whatever shadows lingered in your past, whatever memories had been lost, it didn’t matter. You were hers, and she was yours, and no one would ever take that from you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

The dim candlelight of the summoning chamber cast flickering shadows over the cold stone walls, and the air was thick with incense and chanting. You shifted slightly, testing the limits of the runic circle that bound you in place, but every movement was met with an oppressive, invisible force, pressing down on you with unyielding weight.

As the realization settled in, your initial smirk of amusement at this mortal’s audacity faded, replaced by a gnawing unease. It was almost laughable how easily they had managed to capture you; Gale’s control over your divine power left you vulnerable, deliberately kept weak to prevent you from ever fully escaping his grasp. And now, as you felt your strength ebbing, you understood the gravity of your situation.

The follower knelt before you, a zealous glint in their eyes as they recited incantations, their voice laced with fervor. Dressed in elaborate robes, they wore talismans devoted to Gale, symbols of their fanatical devotion etched into every surface of the summoning chamber. The entire place was a shrine to ambition itself, each detail meticulously designed to honor your god—and your captor.

The follower finally lifted their gaze to you, a manic smile stretching across their face.

"You don’t deserve him," they hissed, their tone a poisonous mix of reverence and disdain. "You’re a weak god, nothing more than a hollow vessel given power by him. But me…" They leaned forward, their voice trembling with adoration. "I could worship him in ways you never could. Gale deserves undivided devotion, unbroken ambition. Not… someone as faint and powerless as you."

You opened your mouth to respond, to laugh off their words, but the runes pulsed, and with each pulse, you felt a new wave of your strength drain, seeping out of you and into the lines of the ritual. Your heart sank. This wasn’t just a simple binding. It was a siphoning—a slow, deliberate draw on your power, meant to weaken you enough to fuel the summoning of Gale himself.

They took a step closer, their eyes wide with triumph as they watched the light fading in your eyes.

"How does it feel, I wonder, knowing your own god keeps you shackled like a plaything? To be so close to greatness, yet to never truly be allowed to touch it?" They tilted their head, enjoying your silence, interpreting it as surrender.

And for a moment, there was fear in you. Not for yourself but for the terrible emptiness left behind as your power faded—a hollow reminder of Gale’s relentless control. You knew he saw you as his own, a piece of his ambition that could never exist independently, even as a god. This mortal, in their arrogance, had taken advantage of that very control, and now you were helpless in a way that gnawed at you.

The ritual circle blazed with renewed energy, and the room shook as a presence took form in the air—a dark, powerful force pressing down on everything within the chamber. The candle flames flickered and bowed as if in reverence, and a sudden silence swallowed the chanting, the air itself holding its breath as Gale stepped into the room, his very presence swallowing up all light and sound.

The follower fell to their knees, eyes wide with reverence and ecstasy.

"My lord!" they whispered, their voice filled with adoration as they reached out toward him. "I have shown you my devotion, captured this… pretender, to prove my worth. I am yours, my lord. Take me in place of—"

Gale’s gaze shifted from you to his devotee, a glint of curiosity sparking in his dark eyes as he studied them. His expression was unreadable, his face set into that unsettlingly calm mask he wore whenever he assessed someone who had piqued his interest. For a moment, the acolyte seemed to believe they had earned his favor, their face glowing with hope as they knelt before him.

But then Gale’s eyes narrowed, and a chill swept over the room as his expression darkened.

“You misunderstand your place,” he said, his voice soft, the calm tone belying the fury simmering beneath it. "You, a mere follower, believed yourself capable of taking what is mine?" He took a slow, measured step forward, his gaze never leaving the trembling form before him. "Did you think that capturing a god under my domain would earn my favor? Or did you simply seek to undermine me, thinking yourself worthy of such… ambition?"

The follower’s eyes widened in terror as they tried to back away, words of apology tumbling from their lips, but Gale’s power was already wrapping around them, a dark, suffocating force that held them immobile.

“It seems you lack an understanding of devotion," Gale continued, his voice chilling in its softness. "Let me show you what happens to those who overstep their bounds."

With a flick of his wrist, the follower’s body seized up, their breath catching in their throat as they gasped, unable to move. Gale’s magic seemed to compress around them, their bones creaking as his power slowly crushed the life from them, his face a mask of calm detachment. Their eyes rolled back in agony, their limbs contorting as Gale made his judgment swift and final, using them as an example of ambition misguided.

And then, in a flash, it was over. The follower’s lifeless form crumpled to the ground, leaving a chilling silence in the air.

Gale finally turned his attention to you, his expression softening as he regarded you, though the possessiveness in his gaze was as strong as ever. He stepped into the circle, effortlessly dispersing the runes with a wave of his hand, releasing you from the binding that had held you so helplessly in place. He reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek with a strange tenderness, his touch a reminder of both his power and his control over you.

“Fear not, my muse,” he murmured, his voice rich with dark affection. “No one else will touch what belongs to me. Not even those who worship me.”

You nodded, your head dipping in a gesture of submission, knowing that he would take no other answer. Gale smiled, his thumb tracing your jawline with possessive satisfaction, and he pulled you close, his hand settling at the back of your neck.

“You are bound to me,” he whispered, his voice soft but laced with command. “Your power is mine to grant or withhold, and none shall touch it, or you, without my will.”

And with that, he led you from the chamber, the empty remains of his follower a silent warning to any who dared question the place he had carved out for you in his unyielding ambition. Gale was your god, your captor, and your guardian all in one—and no one would come between you and his dark, consuming love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The sunlight was unforgiving, searing down on your skin the instant you were thrown into it. Agony flared as the delicate warding spell that had protected you disintegrated, leaving you exposed to the relentless rays of the sun. Pain consumed you, blinding and unbearable as your flesh burned, blistering and cracking in mere seconds.

You stumbled, gasping as the raw heat seared through muscle and bone. You tried to scream, but your voice died in your throat, choked out by the fire consuming you. The world was blurring in and out, and through the haze of agony, you could make out the blurred silhouette of your attacker, smirking from the safety of the shadows just inside the door, watching with satisfaction as you writhed.

The spawn had been relentless in their ambition, and it was only in that agonizing moment that you finally understood just how deeply their envy ran. They thought themselves worthy of Astarion’s favor, the one destined to be his dark consort, and they had waited for the right opportunity, the chance to strip you of your place by his side.

Your vision dimmed as the fire ate away at you, the edges of consciousness fading. You barely registered the door bursting open again or the cold shadow that swept over you as hands—cold, firm hands—gripped you and pulled you away from the merciless light. The next thing you felt was the cool press of stone beneath you, the oppressive heat gone, and then… nothing. There was nothing but pain and darkness.

Through the haze, you felt something pressed to your lips—warm and metallic, filling your senses with the rich, familiar scent of blood. Instinctively, you drank, the sensation grounding you, soothing the burning wounds with each pull. Slowly, the pain dulled, replaced by a distant, comforting hum. Your senses began to return, the blurry edges of the room coming into focus as you felt the charred skin mending, painfully knitting back together as life returned to your broken form.

As you finally blinked the haze from your eyes, you found yourself staring up at Astarion’s face, his crimson eyes softened with an uncharacteristic tenderness, though his mouth was drawn into a taut line. His hand cupped your cheek as if you were something fragile, his thumb brushing over the fresh, healed skin where burns had marred it only moments ago. He was murmuring softly, words flowing over you in a tone both soothing and possessive, though you could hardly process them in your dazed state.

“It’s all right, my sweet,” he cooed, his voice low and warm as he leaned over you, his face barely inches from yours. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anyone harm you, not like that.”

You blinked, slowly looking past him, only to freeze as the full scene came into focus. Scattered around you were bloodied remains—the spawn, or rather, what was left of them, was strewn across the room. Their limbs had been torn from their body, reduced to a gruesome pile of parts on the cold stone floor. The once-confident smirk you had seen on their face was gone, replaced now by a horrified stillness in their lifeless eyes.

Astarion’s grip on you tightened as he followed your gaze, his expression darkening.

“Oh, don’t waste your energy on them,” he murmured, his tone smooth but edged with a chilling coldness. He tilted your face back to him, forcing your gaze to meet his. “They thought they could take what’s mine, dared to strip you of the protection I gave you, to hurt you. But they forgot one simple thing.”

His hand traced down from your cheek to your throat, where his fingers rested possessively, feeling the steady pulse of your blood.

“You’re mine. Body, soul, and everything in between,” he whispered, his voice a velvet command. “No one else could ever take your place.”

The fear, the agony, the helplessness of moments ago seemed to fade as he held you, his arms wrapped around you with a fierce protectiveness. His fingers stroked through your hair as he continued to murmur assurances, the words as binding as a spell, each one a reaffirmation of your place at his side. There was no room for doubt; in his arms, you were shielded from the pain, shielded from everything but his absolute, consuming devotion.

“They all think they’re special, my dear,” he said, casting a disdainful glance at the remains. “But they’re not like you, none of them. You, my sweet, are the only one worthy of my power, my attention. You belong to me—and I to you.” He smiled, a cold, dangerous glint in his eyes as he brushed a lock of hair back from your face. "And I won’t let anyone interfere with that."

You managed a weak nod, leaning into his touch as he continued to hold you close. The last vestiges of the agony you had endured melted away, leaving only the soft, possessive murmur of his voice, the steady rhythm of his fingers tracing over your skin, as he soothed and calmed you back from the brink. He was your anchor, your constant, and in this moment, his power was a shield around you.

As he held you, the remnants of his wrath still lingering in his gaze, you knew that no one else would ever challenge your place beside him. Astarion had made his stance clear in the most brutal way possible, a warning to any who would dare cross him—and a reminder to you that, no matter what, he would always keep you close, bound to him in his dark, all-encompassing love.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The grove was quiet, the leaves whispering softly as a gentle breeze passed through, but that night, something felt amiss. Halsin lay beside you, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest as you slept, and assumed you were simply exhausted from the long day spent in the forest. He smiled, pressing a light kiss to your forehead, and closed his own eyes, content to rest with you beside him. But when he stirred from sleep later in the night, something had changed. A low, strangled sound pulled him from his slumber, and in the faint moonlight, he saw your body trembling, the tremors rolling through you like a shiver from the deepest cold.

You weren’t asleep; you were convulsing, and a dark glisten of sweat clung to your brow. Alarm shot through Halsin, who immediately recognized the signs of poison—a potent, slow-working concoction he’d seen used in rare cases within the grove.

His mind raced as he searched for the antidote, pulling it from his stores and carefully administering it, tilting your head back to help you drink, whispering words of encouragement as he steadied your shaking hands.

After a few agonizing moments, the worst of your spasms subsided, and your breathing leveled out. Weak and shaken, you looked up at him with hazy eyes, trying to focus. Halsin kept his gaze soft, filled with concern but tinged with a growing anger simmering beneath. He held you close as you regained your strength, his hand a steady presence on your back.

Once you could stand, Halsin supported you, guiding you from your resting place out into the heart of the grove. Under the canopy of starlit leaves, he called upon the druids, summoning them with a low, commanding tone. His voice reverberated through the grove, uncharacteristically severe, and one by one, the druids gathered in the clearing, forming a loose circle around you both.

Halsin’s protective arm around your shoulders lent you strength as you looked at each of their faces, searching for the one who had betrayed you.

Though your hands still trembled, your gaze hardened as you focused on a single figure at the edge of the circle, a druid whose stance was too stiff, whose eyes averted yours. The poisoner looked back at you, a faint glint of resentment flashing in their eyes before they began to back away, inching toward the cover of the trees. Without hesitation, you raised a shaky hand, pointing directly at them.

"It’s… it’s them," you whispered, your voice weak but sure.

The druid’s face twisted with fear and defiance, and in one swift motion, they turned, making a desperate break toward the edge of the grove, hoping to escape into the shadows.

But Halsin would not allow them to flee. His jaw tightened, his fury coming to the surface in an uncharacteristic, brutal wave. With a single gesture, he summoned thick, thorned vines from the earth.

They erupted from the soil with a life of their own, coiling like serpents as they slithered after the fleeing druid. The vines caught up quickly, wrapping around the traitor’s legs and yanking them down to the ground, winding up over their body with fierce intent.

The thorned vines tightened, digging into flesh, piercing through clothing and skin alike. Blood began to pool, dark and stark against the earthy ground, as the vines tore through, showing no mercy. The grove seemed to hold its breath, watching as the very nature that the traitor had twisted for their own purposes now turned on them. Halsin’s gaze was unyielding as he watched, his expression set, the compassion he usually reserved for his people absent.

The druid let out a strangled cry as the thorns pressed deeper, breaking skin and severing tendons, each tightening coil met with a gory result. Their blood soaked into the earth, nourishing it, just as Halsin had intended, a grotesque reminder of what happened to those who threatened his own. For him, this act was justice—a stark, undeniable message to any who might dare undermine the safety of his grove or his kin.

Finally, as the druid’s life slipped away, Halsin released his hold, the vines loosening and receding back into the ground, leaving only silence and the faint scent of blood on the forest floor.

When it was over, he turned to you, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"You are safe now," he said, his voice a blend of calm and the fierce protectiveness that had driven him to act so ruthlessly. “No one will harm you here again.”

Though you were shaken, you found strength in his touch, nodding as he pulled you close, his embrace as unyielding as the very nature he had summoned to protect you. The grove was a place of sanctuary, of balance—and Halsin had shown that he would stop at nothing to keep it that way, even if it meant spilling blood into the very soil he had sworn to protect.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Grand Duke Wyll:

The opulence of the ballroom shimmered around you, chandeliers casting warm light over the swirling dancers, the ornate fabrics, and glittering jewels. You held your head high beside the Grand Duke, finding solace in the joy of the night despite the whispers that trailed in your wake. Nobles murmured, their words carrying faintly over the music. Most of it you had learned to ignore, but tonight, the gossip felt sharp and unrelenting. Snippets of conversation floated past, just loud enough to reach your ears.

“Can you believe they let her into the ballroom at his side?” one of them whispered with a haughty laugh. “She looks more suited to a servant’s position,” sneered another, their words laced with contempt. You clenched your hands at your sides, taking steady breaths to brush off their malice. But then, their murmurs grew darker.

“I heard the Grand Duke only keeps her around for amusement. How long, I wonder, until he tires of her?” someone murmured, laughing softly. “It would be such a scandal if she were to just… disappear, wouldn’t it?”

Their venomous words stung in a way that you hadn’t anticipated, pressing upon a wound that you had tried to bury. You excused yourself, weaving through the crowd until you found the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air. The stars twinkled overhead, their beauty a quiet comfort against the bitterness of the nobles’ words. You leaned against the balustrade, the city lights below calming you, giving you a moment’s peace. But that peace was short-lived.

Behind you, the same group of nobles had followed, lingering just by the doorway. One of them tittered, their tone thick with false innocence.

“Out here on the balcony, alone?” another mocked, their tone feigning concern. “Careful, dear. You wouldn’t want to lose your balance.”

You turned to leave, but they circled around, blocking your path with thinly veiled malice. Their eyes gleamed with an unsettling intent as they crowded closer, nudging you further out toward the edge of the balcony. Your pulse quickened as your back met the cold stone of the balustrade, the space behind you yawning into open air.

“Oh, no need to look so frightened. We’re simply having a little chat,” one of them cooed, their smirk betraying their intent. They pressed closer, each small movement edging you nearer to the ledge.

Then, a voice rang out, slicing through the tension like a knife:

“Enough.” Wyll’s voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable, sharp edge beneath it that cut the air like steel. The nobles immediately straightened, stepping back from you, their sneers evaporating as they turned to face the Grand Duke himself.

“We were only talking to her, Your Grace,” one of them stammered, their tone suddenly meek. “No harm intended.”

Wyll’s gaze was dark, his eyes smoldering as he took in the scene, his jaw set and expression unreadable. He looked at you, his expression softening for a moment.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice gentler, the protective undercurrent unmistakable. You swallowed, brushing off the fear that had crept in.

“Yes, Wyll. I’m fine,” you replied, trying to steady your voice.

But he didn’t release his hard gaze from the group of nobles before him. His mouth curved slightly, a hint of a chilling smile playing at his lips as he issued his next command: “Jump. Off. The. Balcony.”

The nobles’ eyes widened, shock rippling through their features. One of them dared a weak laugh, disbelief clear in their tone. “Your Grace, we were only—”

Wyll’s smile vanished, replaced by an expression of cold steel. “You heard me,” he said, his tone low and final, his gaze unwavering as he pointed toward the balcony’s edge. “If you think it’s amusing to dangle someone on the edge, let’s see how you enjoy it.”

You placed a hand on his arm, trying to dissuade him. “Wyll, it’s not necessary,” you murmured softly. “They were… they were just being cruel.”

He turned to you, his eyes softening as he spoke, but the resolve remained.

“No one threatens what is mine,” he replied, his words more promise than explanation. “No one.”

He looked back at the nobles, who now trembled under his gaze, each one of them calculating their next move. They understood the Grand Duke’s reputation well—his ruthlessness and sadistic side were spoken of in hushed tones among court circles, and none of them were willing to test his patience further.

With shared glances of terror, one by one, they stepped up to the edge, each steeling themselves before casting nervous glances back at Wyll. They preferred to take their chances with the fall than face his wrath.

With a reluctant step backward, the first noble swung a leg over the edge, preparing to lower themselves down rather than leap, followed by the others, each descending with as much dignity as they could muster. Their terrified breaths and grunts of effort echoed faintly as they made their way down to the ground below. Each fall was punctuated with a sickening thud that made your stomach lurch each time.

When the last of them was gone, Wyll turned back to you, his expression softening again. He reached out, brushing a gentle hand against your cheek, his voice lowering to a soothing murmur. “No one will ever make you feel less than what you are, not while I am here. Do you understand?”

You nodded, his touch grounding you, the earlier fear beginning to fade. Wyll wrapped an arm around you, drawing you close, his gaze lingering protectively as he looked back over the balcony, ensuring that no one was there to help any unfortunate survivors, he wanted to let them rot, let the world see what happens to those who threaten what is his.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Okay so no cambions in this, I'm going to add them when I finish their catch ups because I kind of follow a narrative with these and I have not fully fleshed out their narritives yet. Hope you guys enjoyed this ! - Seluney xox

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

[lakemojave]

So for those who might not know I've been streaming this co op run of Baldur's Gate 3 with my friends--there's 4 of us, which means no room for NPCs in the overland party, but lots of space for our own silly RP. We've been coming up with a great story for these 4 so far, but we try and weave in the NPCs here and there (one of us is romancing Lae'zel, and our Dark Urge had a big interaction with Wyll). However the most insane thing thus far has been with the character we've addressed the least: Gale.

Early in the playthrough, our paladin said he had no new magic items for Gale to consume. Due to a bug, this made Gale so upset that he left the party permanently. No big deal, right? Well, soon enough that same paladin gets the ability to summon Shovel the Quasit, whom he promptly named New Gale.

Good times so far. In our 8th episode we actually took New Gale with us to the underdark quests with the Duergar and the mines and such, and despite having poor attack options and seven hit points, he rolled very well and survived nearly every combat. The same cannot be said for the rest of us that session--we had numerous speech check errors and TPKs that meant we had to reload several save states. A convenient, in universe explanation? Well, a wizard did it. THE wizard did it. New Gale can send us back in time, I guess.

So we had fun and kept the bit going until, about 2 hours in, we face off with a bunch of magma mephits in the underforge. No big deal, except they explode when they die and two of them are surrounding New Gale. Our monk, not realizing that New Gale would take lethal fall damage if thrown like 30 feet away, threw New Gale like 30 feet away, killing him instantly. Such an amazing streak ended by friendly fire.

New Gale was too good a bit to let die so easily though. The very next session, we used a hireling mechanic to summon a gnome wizard to hang around our camp, who we decided was New Gale's reincarnation. We haven't taken him into battle onscreen, but we've kept the bit up so much that his time loop powers are actually canon to our party's made up story (check out episode 12 for that, I won't spoil it here). However, recently we realized that we can put this hireling gnome in the mirror that changes your appearance and/or name. We call him whatever we want in game. So now we have this fucking guy hanging around our camp all the time and I have to stop myself from howling with laughter every single time.

[autistichalsin]

I once again want to point out that Halsin is the only romanceable companion who will NEVER break up with you, just the other way around.

By comparison:

Making certain choices that violate Astarion's agency cause him to break up with you. Astarion has more triggers to break up than the rest combined.

Moving forward with having sex with someone else while in a relationship with a monogamy-only (Lae'zel, Wyll, Minthara, Gale) character will always lead to them breaking up with you. In some cases spawn Astarion or Karlach could break up with you over it (if it's Mizora).

Going squid will cause some characters to break up with you (though I'm aware this isn't always the case for Lae'zel anymore).

Causing ANY other romanceable companion's opinion of you to dip so low that they issue a warning (I can't remember if this is the first or only second warning) will cause them to break up with you as well.

But Halsin? He stays with you until the moment he leaves entirely (if his approval is sunk) or until you break up with him.

I just find that really interesting. I know the Doylist explanation is that they didn't think any of these situations would make Halsin want to leave, but the Watsonian perspective leaves a lot of interesting implications about Halsin's hero worship for the player.

[alpydk]

Consequences

Gale x Tav (F)

I don't know what this brought on. Lunar Eclipse I'm blaming (Even if there's not been one. Or Chapter 88 from @auroraesmeraldarose) - If you've not read it, go now and do so. It's filth. Purely amazing filth.

Tav slept with Mizora, Gale left as we all know. Hate sex ensues at the epilogue party. That's it.

Word Count - 4,271 - CW - Smut, hair pulling, dom Gale, lots of catty arguing.

The fire crackled softly as the party goers mingled, catching up on the previous six months of gossip and adventures. Shadowheart absent mindedly stroked the white fur of Scratch as he begged for the roasted lamb upon the table, Wyll and Karlach skulked off rather quickly together with a couple of bottles of Purple Dragon Blush in hand, and Astarion wished his own glass would refill quicker as he listened to the long-winded explanations of portal travel from Gale. None dared mention the one member of their group who had not appeared despite being their leader.

“She’s probably not coming, love,” spoke Astarion as he noticed Gale’s head once again whip around as if searching for something.

They’d all known of the tumultuous end to Gale and Tav’s relationship, the argument turned to fight in the early hours of the morning, plates being thrown, insults hurled in pure anger. It wasn’t the most lively the Elfsong Tavern had ever been, but nearly all inhabitants spoke for weeks afterwards of the shouting and the reckless acts of the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate, of tables destroyed under sparks of lightning, of the rain of arrows piercing the scarlet curtains as she’d stormed out of the premises. If it hadn’t been for the tadpole, she probably would have left for good.

None of the small party of adventurers had ever seen Gale lose his temper to such an extreme, his heart broken and then crushed with such little regard, and it had taken Shadowheart many an hour to calm him down after Tav had walked out of the tavern. He’d alternated between long rants about the audacity of what she’d said and done, and a simmering quiet as he plotted what he’d do when she next appeared. They didn’t know which was the more problematic to handle.

After Tav’s return, the arguments had continued, carrying on even throughout the upcoming battles, only now they had involved bitter sniping at one another. You expect me to take it lying down? That’s much more your style. Only because of your baggage at being dominated. They’d shared so many secrets between each other, but all this had done was provide ammunition to fire, just a constant barrage of spite and venom cutting in deeper than any blade.

“No idea what you are talking about,” Gale replied, his head lowering as he’d been caught in the act. He knew he was on guard for her, his plan of taking the high ground falling apart with the passing seconds. He was going to ignore her mostly, show that she hadn’t wounded him at all, that he was now a successful professor in Waterdeep despite her actions.

Astarion let out a light scoff and smirked. “Of course you don’t. So, the fancy clothing and manicure were meant for me instead, yes?”

“You, of all people, should understand the benefits of self-care.”

“Hm, you’d be right there, but I also know the effects those acts have on others.”

Gale rose his glass to his lips, a fleeting thought going through his mind that maybe he had done all this with her in mind. He hated her, though, for what she had done, how she had ripped out his heart and left him to once again pick up the shattered pieces of the little self-esteem he’d had left. All because of one night… “Well, my intentions were purely self-indulgent for once. After everything, I think I deserved a little pampering.”

“Have you even spoken to her since the docks?”

It was so easy to lie and say he hadn’t seen a thing of her since they’d parted ways that afternoon. However, their paths had crossed a couple of times since, once before he had left the city where they’d picked up their argument from where they’d left it in the tavern, and again in Waterdeep where he’d come across her in the markets. Their second interaction had been less intense, but instead came with it the icy chill of two people who loathed the presence of each other. Comments had again been spoken in anger but without the fury of earlier, both holding their cards close to their chest to not reveal to the other how things were in truth.

“I’ve been far too busy to have involvements with the likes of her.” Gale spat the last words out with disdain, the image of her in his mind as he’d left her near the stalls during that rainy day reminding him of the deeply buried anger.

The remark was met with a soft chuckle. “So catty. And I never thought you had it in you.”

“Then you clearly don’t know him well enough.”

The female voice caused both Gale and Astarion to lift their heads in attention. Tav stood observing them both and neither knew how long she had been there listening to the conversation. The leather armour they’d once known to wear had been replaced with a short scarlet dress, her long ebony hair braided back loosely, allowing wisps of hair to hang over her pale skin. Her dark eyes still burned with the anger of months past, and Gale lowered his head to avoid her scornful gaze.

Astarion was the first to raise his glass, welcoming his old friend. “My dagger-happy friend! We didn’t think you were ever going to grace us with your presence.”

She glanced over briefly at Gale before turning to Astarion and giving him a very intentionally close hug. “You know me. Love to make a fashionable entrance.”

“Or just like to make a show for attention…”

The comment was mumbled from Gale’s direction, but there was no acknowledgement of it. Astarion glanced nervously between the couple before letting go of Tav and grabbing a nearby bottle of wine. “I’ll just be catching up with Wyll…”

“But I’ve only just got here.”

“Yes, and we’ll have plenty of time to speak more intimately later. Especially if you catch up with us drinks-wise.” He gave Tav a wink before, in her opinion, scarpering from the scene, leaving her and Gale alone.

She was unsure what to say as she watched him lift his glass, finding it empty. “You look well.”

“As do you.”

---

Near the stalls of Waterdeep, Tav had bashed into him first, his books falling to the floor and the pages taking in each fresh raindrop with ease. Gale had initially apologised for colliding with her, but as he’d realised who he was dealing with, the response quickly turned to aggression.

“Still as perceptive as a drunk Gelatinous Cube,” he jabbed, collecting the tomes from the puddles and trying to get as much water from them as possible. He knew a few spells would be wasted repairing the pages as he reached his tower, but it was still another easily avoidable annoyance.

She scoffed, nudging a book away from him with the damp leather of her boot. “Or maybe just a little payback for your comments three months ago.”

“Payback!?” he exhaled. “By destroying valuable literature? How petty and childish, but then again, I should expect that of you by now.”

“Oh well, run home to Mummy Dekarios. I’m sure she’ll kiss your boo boo better.”

“At least I have a family, and not just the blood of the murderous god Bhaal flowing through my veins.” He knew these were not the best words to bait her with, elegance and articulacy abandoning him knowing her Bhaalist past would provoke her. Yes, she had renounced her father, but it was a straightforward attack and one she deserved.

The heat rose in her cheeks, and she gritted her teeth, trying to push down the knee jerk reaction she wanted to have. She would not respond as she had before in violence. He wasn’t worth the effort. “Better blood than whatever you pumped into your cuntish goddess.”

Just as they had last time, the situation escalated. Market goers ran past to escape the rain, but the two once lovers stood glaring at one another, each refusing to back down. At one point, they may have been able to discuss what happened, how Mizora had got involved, how the art of seduction had been enough to destroy what some had seen as true love, but now there was nothing but hurt and pain. Gale had refused to listen to reason, Tav’s guilt had resulted in attacks to protect herself, and neither wanted to apologise for the further damage they were causing.

Her words were biting, but they were nothing he hadn’t heard before. Mystra, the orb, his mistakes, social skills, any imperfection she could find, she had thrown at him, and he had done the same in return: Bhaal, alcohol imbibition, lack of education, poor literacy knowledge (what moron did not know of Storm Silverhand!?).

“What? Cat- “ The word rolled off her tongue in mockery “-got your tongue? It would certainly be a first.”

“I’m simply astounded that, despite our parting, you still feel that you could rival a goddess such as Mystra.”

“Not exactly a high bar to reach. Especially if she was interested in you.”

Lightning crackled in the distance as the storm worsened and with it, the skies rumbled as if reflecting the scorn both shared. The rain grew heavier, Tav shivering a little and trying to hide the regret of having chosen the thinner cloak for her outing. Gale noticed and tried to ignore the whisper of concern in the back of his mind. He’d give her none of it.

He didn’t want her to have the last word in this argument as she’d had back in Baldur’s Gate when her arrows had destroyed the bar and his lightning had destroyed the tables. Despite what had happened, they would both at least avoid that outcome. A devilish smirk appeared on his face, his hand giving a gentle flick beneath his moistened robes. “As much as I love to partake in your infantile game of insults, I do actually have somewhere else to be.” He pushed past her, purposefully shoving her shoulder, books in hand, waiting for her realisation at what he had done.

Tav stood, taking the full impact of his body against her arm. She wanted to shout at him, wanted to call him back to finish things properly rather than letting him run away like a coward yet again, but her body would not move. She knew when she’d tried to cut him off exactly what he had done. The fucking wizard with his spells again.

---

The hours had passed in a stony silence as the party continued. Tav had wandered her way around the old campsite, chatting with everyone and finding out what had gone on in the last six months. She’d almost punted Tara on getting hissed at, but knew the tressym had a lot more than just sharp claws and sharper words. Avoiding Gale had been her primary aim for the evening. Her secondary one had been to show how she was over him now, telling of how in the last six months she had continued to adventure, saving lives and being a hero. She’d hadn’t secluded herself to a tower or changed her name in an attempt to reinvent herself.

He tried to ignore her not-so-subtle digs at what he had been up to, his own attempts at one-upmanship being heard by Shadowheart and the rest of the company. Eventually, though, he’d ended up in the company of Tara, who was quick to give her own opinions on his ex.

“You certainly avoided disaster with that one.”

He huffed at her words. Hearing the opinions from others still did not come as he wanted them to. It was one thing for him to throw insults after all he’d been through; it was another for someone else to say them. Part of him wanted to defend to Tav, but he knew it would fall on death ears, and so he simply nodded, keeping his eyes forward and listening for anything that would drag him away from how uncomfortable he was becoming.

As the stars gathered in the sky and the campfire died down, people slowly excused themselves, leaving Tav and Gale alone at the table. Bottles of wine had been emptied, and both felt the warmth in their bodies, their tongues loosened and ready for another round of contention.

Tav glowered across the empty plates, seeing the way Gale’s eyes reflected the dying embers of the fire, noticing how a few more silver strands of hair had grown since her last meeting with him.

“I’m guessing your father never taught you it was inappropriate to stare,” he said without looking at her.

She looked at her empty glass, deciding if it was worth pouring another. She could feel the slight sway in her upper body, the heat in under skin, one she had blamed on anger rather than alcohol. “And I’m guessing Mystra taught you all about ignoring people.”

Gale glanced over at her, thankful for the table separating them. “Not ignoring, simply no longer interacting with those beneath me.”

“I seem to remember you preferring me beneath you.”

“And I seem to remember you not caring what position you were in. Or who you were in that position with.”

Tav was quick to rise to her feet, her palms resting on the table, partly for support, and partly to emphasise her annoyance at his comments. “Oh, like you would have resisted any better, Mr. I’ll fuck anything that shows me a little bit of positive reinforcement.”

He rose to his own feet, his voice increasing with anger. As everyone else had left, there was little reason to hold back any reason and logic. “I only wanted you! I only ever wanted you!”

“Clearly not! You were so quick to throw it away.” She made her way around the table, her dress catching on the off splinter and causing her to tug it in anger and her voice to become more spiteful. “You threw me away just as She did.” 

As she approached Gale, he tensed up, but he would not show any weakness to her. Not now, not after the months had passed, and he’d worked to move on. He’d picked up all his pieces, and he refused to have her break him again. “Threw you away? No, I just made you face the consequences of your actions.”

She stopped in front of him, backing him into the table, her chest touching his. She could smell the hint of wine on his breath, feel the heat of his body emanating and merging with her own. It had been so long since she had been this close to him, his lilac embroidered suit he’d chosen, complimenting the colour of his skin. He still smelt of the ink and parchment of his library, as he’d done all those months ago when they had travelled together, and she wondered if time had caused it to be buried into his pores.

“Because after all you did, you’re such an expert when it comes to outrageous consequences. I’m surprised you’ve not been reading up on how to shove an orb in my chest,” she bitterly replied.

“You’re simply not worth the waste of magical artefacts.”

The two stared at each other, refusing to be the one to back down. With its last flames extinguished, the fire left only the glow of the enchanted lights that encircled the campsite upon them. The musical entertainment had died out hours ago, and now all Tav could hear was the sound of their breaths mingling in the air and the river flowing in the near distance. She’d ran out of the stronger insults with him, wine and rage clouding her judgement of the situation. There were only so many times she could bring up Mystra or his folly before resulting in petty remarks about his behaviour or manhood. Now would be one of those moments. “You reek of your library.”

Gale did not hesitate in his reply. “You’ve put on weight.” It was true what he said, but he would not tell her it suited her, that the way her thighs looked in her dress had fanned the old flames within him almost immediately. Her body close to his, the heat between them, the adrenaline flowing through his veins as it always did in her presence made his heart pound and as much as he despised it, he wanted her.

Tav’s voice caught in her throat with the inane comment. Anger burned within her, his remark creating a whirlwind of emotions. A part of her wanted to laugh in his face, another wished she had brought her bow to the reunion, but his proximity clouded her judgement. She wanted to give him back that same pointless surface level snark he’d retorted with, but as she saw the intensity in his eyes, saw the soft curve of his lips, she knew there was little she could do than fall into her desires.

His lips hit hers with a burning passion, his hands gripped to the sides of her face, his fingertips weaving between her black hair. He pushed her forward slightly with the intensity, feeling the way her mouth responded in kind to his, her tongue dancing with his in a need to make up for lost time. Feeling his body react to hers so forcefully, he slid his hands down to her hips, gripping her tightly against him and turning them both quickly so she was backed to the table. “Tav…”

“Shut up.” She could feel the heat of his body rising as he pushed into her, her scarlet dress riding up over her hips under the force of his wanted movements against her. There was little to argue about further, only the desperate touch starved grabs at his tunic as she tried to gain better access to the flesh beneath.

With his mouth still drawn to hers, he batted her hands away as she fumbled with the ties. Both knew there was little want for the intimacy of old, there was only the raw, intense desire fuelled by fury and wine that drove them forward. Removing his lips from hers, he took in the sight of her before him, lust blazing in her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and body aroused. Gale’s hands remained firmly on her hips, and he turned her from him, bending her chest first onto the table. Glasses topped around her, and he heard her softly groan as the oak met her hands.

He ran his fingers up the tender flesh of the inside of her thighs, listening for the sigh she had given in the past. He knew she was resisting, but it came eventually as his hand reached the hem of her skirt. “I didn’t lie when I said you’d put on weight.”

“Fuck you,” she growled, backing her behind with wanting into the hardened erection that lay hidden underneath the leather of his trousers.  

“As you wish.”

He put Tav in her place with a clothed thrust, hearing her sudden moan with the impact. Little time was wasted as he hoisted her skirt up over her hips, taking in the sight of her filled out buttocks before him, the small black lingerie leaving little to his imagination of what lay beneath. He ran his fingertips over the material, working his way from back to front and feeling the way she arched into the feeling of his hand.

She looked over her shoulder at him, an annoyance in her eyes. “I’m not a glass of wine. Get on with it,” she barked.

Gale took this command as another excuse to toy with her, drawing his body back slightly from hers, releasing his grasp on her and watching as her irritation turned briefly to neediness. “Surely you can ask nicely, or did the cambion take your manners too?”

 “You’re under the assumption I had manners to begin with.”

“Then maybe it is time I introduce you to what I’ve been partaking in the last few months and teach you.”

He drew himself forward, one hand working at the buckles of his trousers, the other sliding the underwear from her hips before him. She averted her eyes from him, her palms outstretched on the table. He could see her ebony braid lying upon the scarlet fabric of her dress, and he remembered nights of his hands entwined in her hair in a gentle caress. This would not be one of those nights. “Now, my dear Tav. Say please.”

She scoffed at his words. “Fuck you.”

The hand on her hip came up and gripped the end of the braid, tugging it to make her aware of his intentions. He positioned his cock at her entrance, teasing her as she tried to back up onto him. “I apologise. I do believe I misheard you.”

Looking at the silver plates and empty bottles before them, she smirked. She could feel the longing building within her before he’d even began his lesson. After Mizora, Tav had not been with anyone else, and the guilt she had felt from her own folly had kept her from even attempting to trying to bed someone. Showing this desperation would not happen, though. She’d drag it out for as long as her body could hold out. Her words were slow, intentional, baiting. “Fuck. You.”

Gale pulled her hair with a sharp yank and, in doing so, pushed into her in one quick thrust. The sharp noise she made was muffled quickly with her hand, as she refused to give him any satisfaction. He lazily pulled himself out, watching as her body relaxed, returning himself to the teasing position once again. “Does the student still protest?”

It took her a moment to compose herself, not expecting him to take charge in the way he had. He’d always been soft with her, worshiping her as if she were a goddess, touching her softly and tenderly. This was a fresh experience, one she welcomed after all that had gone on between them. “For as long as I lie here unsatisfied, yes.”

She could not see him, but she knew he would be grinning at the idea of the control he had over her. She felt the sharp tug of her hair, the deep thrust that filled her, causing her to release an uncharacteristic whimper. “Fuck…” she whispered as she felt him retreat again, sliding over her clit in the process.

His throbbing could not be ignored as he pulled out the second time and he tried to keep his mind focussed, not on what he needed but on the words he spoke. As one hand remained on the braid, the other returned to her hip, his fingernails pressing into her side to keep him grounded. The control remained in his voice, a slow purr of the words. “Unsatisfied? Is that why you ran to her so eagerly?”

“Better to her than Mystra.” she whined, feeling his cock twitch against her. Her mind was clouded with yearning, her composure escaping her as body hungered for release. “Just as you planned to.”

He gave another quick thrust, but this time did not relent as he had before. His hand remained with the braid now wrapped around it, a rein in which to keep her head held high and her back arched. Her side of the story had finally been understood, her fear that she would lose him driving her to the cambion, the one who'd lured her with promises of what could be. Gale buried himself inside Tav, feeling her walls contract around him as she neared a long-awaited climax, his muscles tightening with each pleasured cry she gave out. His own grunts broke free, and he felt as he began to lose all the composure he’d once held onto.

 “…I…I’m so…” Tav stammered

“No.”

She opened her eyes in shock as he denied her, at how selfish he was being with her needs, at how good it felt to hear. “Please…” she begged weakly.

Her words were driving him mad, each thrust becoming shorter and more instinctive as her hips arched into him and the pressure grew. He knew he was close, all resolve breaking with each panted breath. “No.” It was the only word he could manage as his mind became lost in the sensation, his hand clasping her hip tighter, his body trembling as he refused to let go.

“Gale…please...” she repeated in a needy whimper over and over, her voice growing higher with each jolt of his body into hers.  

His name on her pleading lips was all it took to push him over the edge, spilling himself into her fully, feeling as she let go of her own self-control, clenching around him tightly and letting out a lustful cry. Bending over her, he felt her back upon his tunic, his warm palms brought down to the table to help support him as he gasped for air above her. Heated kisses were placed over her shoulder and without realising his thumb had hooked over her pinkie finger, a light stroking of contentment shared with her momentarily.

---

They lay for some time in postcoital bliss, neither speaking of what had happened nor what was to come. Despite the anger, the hurt, the cruel words spoken between each other, they still loved one another, but whether things could ever be repaired between them, neither knew. For now, all they had was this one night, one under stars and enchanted lights, amongst scattered plates and drained bottles. Talking could come later.

[tadpolebrains]

Love Language Headcanons BG3 (Pt. 1)

Love language headcanons for the male companions! Female companions will be in a part 2. Because I have nothing better to do :D

Astarion’s love languages revolve less around the specific type and more about the intent. He’ll listen to you spew thoughtless praise and such at him for hours, but it’s when you complement things that people don’t tend to notice that he’ll really melt. Because sure, he’s used to people calling him handsome and using his body to seduce people, but he’s not so used to someone pointing out, say, his fine skills with sewing. Or using words like ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ instead of ‘charming’ and ‘handsome. It’s why he’ll get a bit shocked during the one mirror scene if you start pointing out smaller, seemingly inconsequential details, like the curls of his hair or his smile lines- he’s not used to people caring enough to look that closely. In the same vein, he also enjoys physical touch, but moreso anything non-sexual. Hand-holding, forehead kisses, hugs- any touch that has no ulterior motive behind it. It takes him a while to get used to, but once he does it’s like you can’t get him off of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too sometimes if he doesn’t feel like you’ve been touching enough, “Tav, darling, you’re simply neglecting me, holding that dagger instead of my ever so cold hand. Positively cruel.”

Gale defaults to acts of service at first. It’s what he’s kind of used to after Mystra, trying so hard to keep up with pleasing her again and again. Putting all of his self-worth into what he can provide for her. But after helping him work through a bit of that trauma and making sure he understands that he doesn’t constantly have to be doing something for you for you to stay, he realizes he simply enjoys just passing the time together. Quality time. Even if you two are in the same room doing entirely different things, he just finds it comforting to know you’re there, that he’s not alone, and that you’re not going anywhere. Of course, he’ll still go out of his way to do things for you, but it starts becoming more of a gift giving habit. He’ll bring you something from the market because ‘it reminded me of you, so you had to have it.’ He’ll get you books he’s read that he thinks you’ll enjoy. Tiny trinkets that he could go into hour-long explanations on why he just had to get it for you. Poems and little notes written and handed to you before he walks out the door. Eventually, you’ll have so many tiny little things he’s given you that you’re running out of space, but you’ll just have to get a bag of holding, because there’s no way in hell you’re getting rid of them. Later, when he finds out you not only still have every single little thing, and also remember when you got every single one, he’s so touched that he… totally isn’t crying, no, there’s just something in his eye.

Wyll is very much a words of affirmation man. He is the Disney prince of BG3, and can and will rave on about you for days on end. He’ll spin tiny things you’ve done and tell them to people like they were the most incredible things he’s ever seen. You could wake up with a bedhead and be the groggiest you’ve ever been and he’ll still tell you you’re gorgeous. He’s horrible at taking what he dishes out after Mizora changes him, though, especially at first when it comes to his own looks. He’s used to the praise people spew about the Blade of Frontiers, but less used to your little compliments about Wyll Ravengard. Many nights after the transformation, you spend them with him spewing sweet words about his new horns or idly tracing fingers along them to make sure he knows you’re not afraid of it. You still see him as a person, and that’s where physical touch comes in. Because your words and touch reminds him that he’s still there. Still human. And still loved. And of course, like the gentleman he is, he will always try to find some way to return the favor and attention later on. Will ask what he can do to repay you, and if you answer with a ‘don’t worry about it’ or ‘you don’t need to do anything,’ he’ll just find little things to do in return anyway. You mentioned liking this one specific thing from a town five days ago? Well, it appears on your pillow later that night. His acts of service side tends to come out during those times too. A minor inconvenience that you could easily handle? Oh, he’s got that covered. Don’t even try to protest it, he’ll start listing off all of the things you’ve done for him lately, and by the time he’s convinced you to sit back down the task could have been handled already.

Halsin is a very tactile person. With everyone. Physical touch is a natural need of the body, after all, and he is a man of nature. So even platonically, he will be setting a hand on people’s shoulders, or ruffling hair, or bumping shoulders- any of it. You initiating it, though, is very much appreciated. Maintaining prolonged points of contact, ie hand-holding, cuddling, hugs, etc, is really what makes him feel attached. And when he’s in bear form, he loves the feeling of gentle hands combing through the dense fur, and curling protectively around you when you’re both asleep. He’ll let you braid his hair with a chuckle if you ask, and if you have longer hair, will return the favor. He’s also a gift giver by habit; perhaps it’s the animal instinct. But he’ll bring gifts of foraged berries, or a catch from the river, or even random little flowers and leaves (and of course, will indulge any questions about the specific types of plants he’s bringing back). He’ll light up with any of those questions about nature, and it encourages you to ask more often, even if it’s just a simple “hey, Halsin, what’s this?” on the road. He gets this little twinkle in his eye. Long nature walks become a pretty frequent routine, and if your legs start hurting he’ll either carry you or turn into a bear to let you ride on his back.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt6

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

(The other parts of this story are under the First BG3 Masterlist, or you can use the AO3 link to read it there)

This one is my problem child. I have no idea how to write for the other companions but I needed to have this as context for the companions learning about Tav's bg and yeah whatever I've got better stuff coming up. I am very very excited for future chapters >:)

Warnings: self-destructive coping mechanisms (scratching oneself), mentions of slavery, hints of a panic attack, mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of biting, possibly OOC companions

Word Count: 1,334

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

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Everyone eyed you warily. You didn’t blame them. After you scrubbed your hands raw of the blood staining them, you provided no explanation. You’d basically sped in, Astarion trailing behind, and ran for a bucket of water. And stayed there. For hours. After the fact, you changed out the water, of course, but they weren’t concerned as much with the pink-tinted water as they were with the frantic nature you scraped the natural dye from your hands.

Astarion didn’t say anything either. A few of them had tried asking, but he smiled tersely and made an excuse that changed each time. “I was too distracted fighting a beast.” “You know how some people get with germs.” “They really hate the color red.” (This one was not said to Karlach, nor in her earshot.) 

It all came to a head at dinner, when you’d still provided no explanation. Gale handed out servings silently, staring at you as though studying a new specimen. Lae’zel watched you like a predator trying to defend her territory, prepared for the moment the intruder stepped over the line. Shadowheart barely repressed her scowl.

Wyll set down his bowl pointedly. “Haven’t you kept your secrets hidden long enough?” You raise your eyes from your barely-touched stew. You didn’t quite see him. Your mind lingered on the image of the Gur. “Do you expect us to continue following blindly while we pour our souls out for you?”

You bristled. The image disappeared, tucked away to haunt you later. “No. No, I’m sorry.” You sighed and set your bowl aside. Everyone watched you expectantly, more interested in what you could say than filling their bellies. “It’s just… difficult to talk about.”

“Speak,” Lae’zel encourages roughly. “We will listen.”

Astarion frowns at you. He’s taken to sitting beside you for ‘dinner’. They knew by now he wasn’t suited to eating normal food, but he didn’t quite trust them not to stake him through the heart or cut his head off. It was safest to linger by your side. The irony of your trust in him was not lost on him: You understood him best and you feared him the most. That fear may have dampened over time, but you still flinched at the gleam of his fangs, watched him as he left camp to hunt at night. Yet you’d bared your soul to him and him alone. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

You inhale, slow and shaky. Your hands fiddle in your lap, providing you some sort of distraction. It would not be enough to ground you to reality should the thoughts become too potent.

“I was… am,” you corrected unsurely, “a vampire’s thrall. She… uses me as a blood source. Has used me, for years. I’ve been stuck under her thumb since I was a teenager. It’s… easier to have one consistent source of food than to go out looking for it every night.

“When we were out in the woods,” you nod your head slightly toward Astarion, “there was a Gur. A monster hunter. A-And he said he was looking for a runaway.” Your breaths sharpen into quick, frightened little things. You nearly choke on them. You stare into the fire. Your nails start scratching at your hands. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. “He had nothing to go on, just a name, but I panicked and I- I killed him. I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t have. I could have explained everything. I could have paid him off. I could have-”

“Steady on, soldier,” Karlach interrupts. You can’t look at her, can’t draw your eyes away from the flickering flames, but you know she looks worried. It always amazed you how openly she wore her emotions, despite it all. “Take a breath, okay?”

Your nails stop scratching in favor of digging into your skin. You take a breath, slowly let it out, and your nails ease off. You run your fingertips mindlessly over the indents left behind.

You whisper, unable to raise your voice any further. “He said my master is in Berdusk.”

Quiet. Gale spoke up, voicing the awful realization everyone had. “That’s only a few miles from Baldur’s Gate.”

You nod.

“You’re marchin’ right back to her.” Karlach sighs, heavy and empathetic.

You finally lift your eyes from the fire. Everyone’s attention is on you, pitying and remorseful. “I have no choice. I can’t abandon you all just to run away. Especially with these tadpoles. I have no doubts she’ll find me quickly once we reach the city.”

“We could confront her,” Wyll suggests. “Go to Berdusk, face her head on, free you!”

“It’s not some goblin camp we can just walk into and clear out,” you protest. The idea thrills you to no end, but you cannot allow yourself that hope. Not when there is none. You will be found. Tonight, the next, a week from now. You’ll be locked back into your servitude. There is no chance you have to be free. “Killing a vampire lord isn’t- It’s not just-”

Astarion speaks up. You don’t expect it; he’d been so quiet this whole time. “If we can kill Cazador, we can kill Kir Parthene.” Your stomach rolls around at the sound of her name. “What makes facing my master any different from yours?”

You know the answer. Even if you don’t realize it yet, you know.

You have no qualms threatening Cazador. You’ve even told Astarion that you plan to help him kill his master, once and for all. Free him and his ‘siblings’, and rid Baldur’s Gate of the nighttime threat to its people. No longer would they have to go out, lure victims in as food for the vampire lord. It was so easy to promise. If you could help everyone else, why should you leave Astarion to the same fate you faced after this quest? He should be as free as possible from the chains binding him.

So why couldn’t you let them swear the same for you? What made Kir Parthene so different from Cazador? She was not stationed in as large a city, she did not steal souls off the street every night just for a quick meal, she did not personally carve poetry into the flesh of those beneath her. She had power, but no more than Cazador held. So why were you so reluctant to even dream of your freedom?

You were afraid.

Astarion can see the very second you know the answer to his question. Your eyes open a fraction wider, filling with a bottomless dread. Your heart stutters and your breath catches. He’s sure you’re on the verge of tears as you inhale a trembling breath, trying to keep yourself from hyperventilating, even as your fear squeezes your lungs.

“You won’t have to face her alone.” You turn to look at Shadowheart. “You’ve given us the strength to face our demons. We can help you face yours.”

You want to believe her. Believe all of them as they nod in agreement. Believe they could give you the strength you lacked, support you when you come face-to-face with her once more.

But then you see the deep crimson of her eyes and lips. You feel her nails digging into your skin. The cooing affections that come just after the harsh vitriol. Her teeth digging deep into your neck. How can you have any hope of facing her?

You shake your head and push yourself to your feet so fast Astarion is startled. “I’m sorry. I can’t think about this right now.” You abandon your dinner. It sits, lonely and growing cold, as you step away from the warm glow of the fire and the safety of your companions into the edge of trees surrounding your camp. You don’t go far, just far enough you can’t hear them speaking and they can’t see you collapse against a tree, clutching and clawing at your hands to remove the memories from your mind.

At least they know now.

---

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[100daysofastarion]

Day 100🥹: I was only able to get the rough draft done but all the numbers are pages from the 100 days. Short explanation is Gale, Wyll and my Tav drew Astarion 100 times since he couldn’t see what he looks like. Towards the end it's Astarion realizing that he's actually found people who really care for him despite his past. I did an all nighter and crunched about 200 frames, so I hope you like it even though it’s a very, very, rough draft. I do plan on finishing it but I’ll be taking my time with it. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me and all the love and support I wouldn't have been able to do it without you guys! 🥹💕

Previous Day

[august-anon]

No one is sending me bg3 tk headcanons so i will speak a few of my own. please send me bg3 asks lol. these little gremlin people in my computer are all i can think about

Wyll is definitely more of a ler than a lee in my mind, BUT i see that man in a crop top every single night, you cannot tell me he is not also crazy ticklish. And he definitely doesn't mind it -- he just doesn't want it too much. He much prefers making his romantic interest smile and blush and laugh, and waxing poetic in that wonderfully romantic way of his to make them blush even more. I ask what we are and he compares me to the sun at different times of day in a way that makes me swoon?? Imagine how he'd describe your tav's smile and laughter and flushed cheeks. My god I am so in love with this fictional man.

I have not gotten to a point in the game yet where my bestie Karlach is all fixed up (i only just started Act 2 about 10 hours of gameplay ago -- i expect to be here for another 30-40 hours at least before we finally reach Act 3 lol), I can only assume it happens for her, and i think that when she is fixed up she would go WILD with the tickle fights. She would find it so, so much fun. She probably loves tickling, on all sides, and given how bold she is when she comes onto you the first time (I am so sorry i had to turn you down girlie ✌️😔 i already had my eyes on Wyll), I think she would definitely have 0 problems asking to be tickled or to tickle someone else

i think if i tried to tickle Lae'zel she would kill me. But also we have like, medium approval because I am too nice for her and so i don't know a lot about her lol. Y'all who have had better relationships with Lae'zel or who have romanced her should tell me your thoughts, y'all probably have much better understandings of her character than I do, I would love to know what you think about Lae'zel and tickles

Gale insists he is not ticklish. He tries to distract you with fancy words and long sentences until you forget what you were talking about in the first place, because all of a sudden you're like. Talking about the history of Waterdeep or smth. Anyways, he does this because he is wicked ticklish. And I don't think he necessarily minds being tickled, but I definitely think he's the kind of guy to wanna keep up appearances for as long as he can lol. Gale lovers please correct me if I am wrong, but I always get distracted by his long-winded explanations and fanciful way of speaking (is this how people feel when they talk to me??? i am also extremely long-winded -- as you can see from this post -- and people think i speak funny and in an abnormal manner also lol). That long-windedness comes in handy with teasing though, I'm sure.

Shadowheart is another one I can't get a read on. I have had really good approval with her from the beginning, we are somehow besties, and yet i know so little about her. She is very hard to read. I have no idea what her thoughts and opinions are here lol. I think she would regard me with great disdain if I tried to tickle her

Astarion,,,,, i don't think he'd vibe with most people tickling him, OR tickling most people. Purely from existing in fandom, despite not romancing him (yet -- he is next on my list. I can fix him), i know a lot of spoilers for his general arc in a romance. I don't think he would let anyone but his lover touch him like that (or touch anyone but his lover like that), and only after a lot of healing. It's a very vulnerable situation to put oneself in!!! I feel like for the first long while he'd be far more interesting in ler-ing, he would have to be pretty comfortable and secure to feel comfortable in a lee situation.

[spacemonkeysalsa]

Any opinion on a character that focuses too much on approval/disapproval, I tend to dismiss. You know, unless it leads them to conclusions that I think are right for other reasons that they just didn't explore. Or, I would feel that way if I'd seen that, but I haven't.

If you're whole theory of the character is based off the approval system and doesn't take their actual story into account, you tend to be wrong.

Partly, this is because it's tricky to confidently know why a character reacts the way they do, though that's a fun exercise on its own. Every once in a while I'll read an explanation that completely nails it, but for every one fandom theory written by someone who actually sounds like they get the characters, I read about twenty from people who sound like they are maybe 12 hours into the game, or even familiar with the characters purely from marketing material they saw on Facebook.

Like, I do think speculating about certain moments of approval/disapproval is fun, and also, totally inevitable, but I only consider it on a case by case basis and not when it's extrapolated into something immutable.

IE - I think it's interesting that when you find Halsin in the bear cage you can throw rocks at him with the Goblin children and a) no one disapproves of this, including our animal lovers and our Halsin saviours and b) Astarion approves.

A bad example of analysing this would be "well b) Astarion is just evil and I guess a) the other characters think the bear is in jail for good reason" or more likely "idk a) it's not that deep unless its Astarion then its b) definitive proof he's irredeemable"

So,

a) I think they each have their own individual reasons for tolerating it, and its first important to note that at this point, none of them know the consequences of you doing this, because if they did, you'd see some disapproval for sure: Shadowheart appreciates subterfuge and commitment to it, so even though she doesn't like to see animals get hurt, she doesn't react and also has a high tolerance for situations in which a group mentality forces you to do something cruel. She has to. Karlach wants to give you the benefit of the doubt, so she probably tells herself that it was just a mistake. If you'd known what would happen, you never would have done it, maybe you thought a little extra pain and rage would motivate the bear, she knows something about that.

Wyll I legitimately think that when surrounded by Goblins, Wyll's ability to power through unpleasant situations and his rage goes way way up, and empathy consequently goes way down. He only ever gets nasty when it has to do with them. He's too focused on his enemies to consider much else.

Gale may love animals, canonically, but like I remember one time I was talking with someone who told this story about having to shoot a feral dog on his property when it went after his chickens, and this guy was clearly traumatised that he had to do this, but our clueless acquaintance just dismissively said "well you did what you had to" and proceeded to kind of invalidate the conflicted feelings our buddy was having about it. Gale is somehow both of them. I don't think he'd throw the rocks, unless forced. I think he'd be upset at having to hurt an animal under any circumstances. But I don't think he'd feel much if someone else did it. Bears are capable predators, bears can handle a few rocks.

Lae'zel doesn't disapprove because violence, pain, cruelty on its face aren't offensive to her, and she doesn't have a particular love for animals. Alternatively, I also think it makes sense she doesn't approve either because although she does approve of some acts of cruelty, I think she prefers when there's a discernible purpose to it, or something impressive about it. and

b) Astarion approves because he begins the game in the paradigm that acts of cruelty are how you gain and demonstrate power, and that being kind gets you punished. You can either prove him right or prove him wrong through your choices in the game, but I don't think it's an accident that these moments become less and less frequently as you progress the story, regardless of the path you choose. You can challenge Astarion, and even shift that paradigm for him. Takes time though, and at least when you first meet him, he's very comfortable with you being a bastard because it affirms that paradigm and the dynamic that he's used to. It's notable then, that on the flip side, he's vocally uncomfortable with you being kind, but his approval still steadily climbs if you keep him in your party and don't treat him poorly, even if you are kind to everyone you can possibly be kind to, and you always have him with you, his approval still climbs at a regular rate. Basically, I think its reductive to say that he's just entertained by violence and cruelty. Like, yeah, one point awarded for noticing that about him---he absolutely is evil aligned, gold star. Why's that? Why does he approve of cruelty? And what does it say that as he finally spends the first weeks of his life able to make his own choices, he seems less and less inclined to approve of the cruel acts that you commit? There's loads of these moments in act one, less in act two, and in act three you have to go hunting for them and mainly find them in big story events that you will only find when you are RPing evil.

I think it supports the theory that he's got a kind of mechanically enabled redemption arc, but it doesn't prove it. The game is meant to embody 15K different realities and AUs, they had to make it so that the character would have different version of themselves for you to interact with, depending on your choices.

And I guess that makes the emphasis on NPC choices that much more interesting to me. Removed from Cazador, Astarion's arc naturally bends away from cruelty, unless you act as his new master which you are totally permitted to do.

[mumms-the-word]

A Macabre Masquerade - Ch. 4

Ch. 4 - The Gang's All Here

Characters: Tavs (multiple), Gale, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Halsin, Minthara + other OCs Plot: One year after defeating the Netherbrain and saving the city, Dani and Gale receive a mysterious invitation to a masquerade ball. The invitation specifically invites them to participate as the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. However, when they get there, they soon realize they aren't the only Heroes of Baldur's Gate that got invited. A/N: All the crew is back together again! And strange things are afoot on their way to the masquerade. Things are looking more and more like a trap... Also, I'm very aware that I'm a slow writer lol more action to come very soon!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | BG3 Masterlist | AO3

Dani turned away from the empty street—away from the blank stretch of city wall where a masked servant and a stall of enchanted masks should have been—to face Gale and Astarion, her expression a mix of resignation and annoyance.

“Typical,” she said. “This had better be a bloody practical joke.”

“Which part?” Astarion asked, examining his gloves in a feigned show of disinterest. “The permanent mask feature, or the disappearing servant act?”

“Both!” Dani tried to move her mask once again, but the results were the same as before. She couldn’t even peel it away from her face enough to wedge a piece of paper beneath the mask. She dropped her hands back to her sides with a sigh. “Come on then. We might as well go see this Lord Dormire and ask him what the big deal is.”

“Oooh, delightful,” Astarion said, dropping his bored act to clap his gloved hands together. “It’s been too long since I’ve held someone at dagger point. Almost a full twenty-four hours, in fact.”

“Let’s not get too hasty,” Gale warned. He’d tied back the ribbons of his mask again, even though his mask was clearly going nowhere even with the ribbons loose. “There may yet be some…sensible explanation for all this. Perhaps it’s a temporary spell that lasts only until we’re inside this lord’s manor.”

Dani gestured toward the blank wall. “Then explain the disappearing servant and disappearing mask stand, love. No one packs up that fast, not even the Lower City merchants at the Wide when the curfew bells ring.”

Gale pursed his lips, clearly casting about for an explanation. He admitted defeat with a shrug. “All right, fine, something nefarious is afoot, but—” he held up a finger as Dani and Astarion exchanged gleeful looks, “we should proceed with caution. It wouldn’t do to land ourselves in worse trouble than we’re already in, hm?”

“I see married life with our darling Dani hasn’t robbed you of all your prudence,” Astarion said, smirking. 

“Only out here in the streets, Astarion,” Dani said, patting his arm as she swept past him to head toward Dormire’s estate. She seemed to know on instinct which street was best, further proving that there was indeed a navigation spell in place. “In the sheets, however…”

“Dani!” Gale protested, sounding exasperated. But he didn’t deny it. He simply shook his head and fell in step beside her, and Astarion joined her on her other side.

Dani linked arms with them both, happy to be between her husband and one of her dearest friends. Despite the suspicious situation, they chatted amiably as they walked, catching up with Astarion, inquiring about his life as a roguish clandestine hero and complaining in return about Baldur’s Gate politics. They spoke, too, of Gale’s latest finds in his research about sun sensitivity cures, infernal engines, and mysterious Sharran wounds.

“We’re planning a trip to visit Candlekeep soon, to make use of their archives in our research,” Gale said. “When I say I am beyond thrilled at the idea—“

“But first a trip to Waterdeep to have tea with Morena and Tara and collect a gift for the gatekeepers,” Dani added. “We don’t have anything suitable here at home.”

“Or rather, nothing you are willing to part with,” Gale said wryly.

The gatekeepers of Candlekeep refused to let anyone inside the halls of wisdom without first presenting a seal of a renowned wizard and offering a gift of knowledge to add to the collection. Gale had suggested that his own name might be “renowned enough” to grant entry past the gates but, lacking an official seal, he had asked Elminster if he could offer his seal instead. Elminster happily agreed. As for the gift of knowledge, Gale had told Dani this usually meant a very rare, very expensive tome, but the gatekeepers had recently relaxed their rules to accept other artifacts as well. She was a little too attached to the arcane (and mundane) treasures they had accumulated over their adventures pre- and post-Netherbrain, so they agreed to select something from his old tower in Waterdeep. Or ask Tara if she knew of anything suitable. 

The journey overall was meant to be their next big adventure, made up of several days spent away from Baldur’s Gate. But it seemed now that adventure had come seeking them out much sooner and much closer to home.

“Ah, Candlekeep,” Astarion said. “That great big library fortress to the south. Sounds like more your thing than mine. Still, if they know anything useful…”

“You’ll be the first to know, I promise,” Dani said. “One way or another we’ll have you back in the sun. Without burning to a crisp.”

Astarion opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Dani gasped, her eyes landing on another familiar figure just up ahead. The swept streets of Manorborn were relatively empty of people, aside from a few late-evening strollers who seemed eager to keep to one side, well away from the three of them. But a solitary figure was waiting for them at the end of their current street, gazing at them patiently behind a silvery mask, her shell-pink lips curved in a teasing smirk.

“That can’t be Shadowheart behind that pretty mask, can it?” Dani called, breaking away from Gale and Astarion to rush forward.

“The one and only,” Shadowheart said, laughing and opening her arms. 

Dani embraced her quickly in a tight hug before pulling back to glance appreciatively over her outfit. Shadowheart had opted for a black dress with silver and pearl accents, sewn and embroidered in gentle leaf and vine motifs, her sleeves nothing more than sheer black drapes of glimmering chiffon. Her mask was made of curling silver filigree in a familiar style that reminded Dani vaguely of Dame Aylin’s helmet and armor. She’d styled her usual braid, still silver-white even a year later, in a coil near the top of her head, crowning the bun with a silver circlet.

“What do you think?” Shadowheart asked. “I thought about going for all white and silver, but it just seemed like overkill, especially with my hair.”

“I think you look gorgeous. But you’d look gorgeous in anything, Shadowheart.”

“You flirt,” Shadowheart laughed. “You look stunning too, as usual. I’ve missed you.” She nodded smilingly toward Gale and Astarion. “Gale, Astarion. It’s good to see you both again. You’ve both been keeping out of trouble, I hope?”

“Naturally,” Gale said, while at the same time, Astarion grinned and said, “Of course, darling.” An obvious lie for one, if not the other.

“Shadowheart, have you noticed anything strange about your mask?” Dani asked, pointing toward her own golden bird mask. Better to get it out of the way now. “Anything…er…magical?”

“You mean like the fact that it’s telling me where to go and the fact that I can’t remove it?” Shadowheart set one hand on her hip, her fond amusement sobering into a more serious look. “I asked the servant about it, but he told me that it’s all just precautions to protect me out here in the Upper City. I say he’s lying, or at least withholding a great deal of the truth.”

“Protection from who, the City Watch?” Dani asked. “They’ve always been a sort of ‘arrest people now, ask questions later’ type of organization, but gluing masks to our faces to prove we have a reason to be on Upper City streets seems a bit much.”

Shadowheart nodded. “There’s definitely something else going on. I’m just glad I convinced my parents to stay behind at our cottage. The last thing I want is to drag them into something like this.”

“Have you met any of the others? Karlach or Wyll? Lae’zel?”

“Lae’zel is coming. I was waiting for her here, actually.” She swept her gaze over their surroundings. “We were supposed to travel together from my cottage but she said she had to shake off some pursuers, so we agreed to meet up in the city.”

“Does she still visit you every now and again?” Dani asked, grinning. Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s relationship had shifted since the early tense days over a year ago. Dani was convinced that part of Lae’zel’s decision to stay on Faerûn rather than join in the liberation of the githyanki empire was because a certain half-elf cleric wouldn’t join her in the Astral Plane. Her suspicions were all but confirmed by the rumors that Lae’zel allegedly made frequent stops by Shadowheart’s cottage on her way to or from a githyanki outpost.

“Once a tenday, if she hasn’t wandered too far abroad,” Shadowheart responded with a faint smirk. Her hazel-green eyes lit up as she spotted someone just over Dani’s shoulder. “Ah, and speaking of…”

Dani turned her head just as Lae’zel herself walked forward. Dani didn’t know what she expected Lae’zel to wear to a masquerade ball, but whatever her expectations might have been, they were surpassed by Lae’zel’s choice of outfit. She’d donned an indigo long-sleeved dress, the skirt little more than a drape of fabric in front of and behind her legs, which where encased in githyanki-style boots all the way up to her thighs. That would have been enough, but over top of the dress, she wore pieces of armor, bits of fine chainmail and githyanki pieces, all silver and purple, with more indigo fabric draping from her shoulders like two thin capes. Her mask was a simple black fabric thing that barely covered her eyes, so slim that Dani had almost mistook it for more of the black shading she usually wore around her eyes.

“You were supposed to dress for a party, not for war,” Shadowheart teased. 

“Chk,” was Lae’zel’s telltale response. “It is better to always dress for war. That way you are never surprised by it.” 

Lae’zel ignored Dani, Gale, and Astarion and instead went straight for Shadowheart, pulling her by the waist until their bodies were flush, their lips meeting as naturally as if they’d done this a hundred times. As they kissed—and continued to kiss for several seconds—Gale coughed slightly into his fist and looked away politely while Astarion rest an arm on Dani’s shoulder and watched with glee.

“It’s about time the two of them made things public,” he said in Dani’s ear. She giggled. It had been an open secret for so long, none of them were particularly shocked.

At last, Lae’zel and Shadowheart separated from one another and turned to face the others. “Well,” Shadowheart said, somewhat breathlessly. “Shall we get going? After you.”

“Just don’t fall behind, you two,” Dani teased, taking Gale’s arm. “We’ll need all the backup we can get should this turn into a fight.”

“Are we expecting a fight?” Lae’zel asked.

“Maybe? We’ll explain on the way.”

Dani and Gale took the lead, with Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel following. Lae’zel was irritated but not entirely surprised to learn about their masks’ unique, magical qualities as the others explained what they knew. She muttered something about Faerûnian wizard antics, but otherwise was content to walk hand-in-hand with Shadowheart as they navigated the Upper City. They were no closer to figuring out the point of the masks, however, so topics turned to Lae’zel’s latest adventures and the ever-increasing numbers of githyanki loyalists she’d killed so far in Faerûn. If the party proved to be a trap or a bust, at least Dani was content to catch up with her friends as they made their way through the Upper City.

Lord Dormire’s estate was deep within the Manorborn district, almost on the edge of the district itself. Though the masks had granted them all an innate ability to know which turns to make and a general sense for how close they were getting, Dani was surprised at how far into the district Dormire’s manor actually was. Most of these elegant houses belonged to the oldest families, the ones who’d been here so long that their names were as familiar as Balduran’s own. These manors were larger and had lush gardens and tall, wrought iron or stone fences surrounding them, often with the family heraldry over the gates or hung in banners all over the buildings.

Once upon a time, Dani would have greedily rubbed her hands together and giddily plotted a grand heist to break into one of these estates and abscond with a pack loaded with valuables. Now, in the past year, she’d been inside at least half a dozen of these estates for parties and balls, often with a fake smile fixed to her face until she could turn her head and whisper her biting remarks about puffed up nobles to Gale as he fought to control his expression into something neutral.

But it seemed they wouldn’t be attending another event in these larger homes. Soon those grand estates fell away and they were heading to the far reaches of Manorborn, very nearly to the massive wall that made up the edge of the city itself, where the manors became narrower and more numerous, the gardens and fountains now shared features rather than individual hallmarks of wealth and prestige. As they turned the last corner, they stepped out onto a street lined with well-built, newer-looking manor homes, their windows burning brightly with candlelight and torch-glow. Several carriages lined the streets, parked and inert, more than they had seen on other streets. A relatively short distance away, one building was twice as bright with torchlight as the others, illuminating colorful banners hanging from windows and drapes of fabric framing the doorway. Distant strains of dance music wafted over to them. Dani recognized the tune and the beat as a popular court dance.

Their destination at last.

“Finally,” Astarion said. “I was beginning to think there would be no party at all.”

Dani glanced at the carriages as they passed, trying nosily to guess which noble families would be in attendance based on the heraldry on the doors, but to her surprise, she didn’t recognize any. No Portyrs, no Hhunes, not even an Eomane, and they were famous for their cruel masquerades. She expected to see at least a Jannath, because they showed up everywhere, whether they were wanted or not, but she didn’t see the Jannath heraldry either. 

“Curious,” Shadowheart said.

“What is curious?” Lae’zel asked.

“The carriages. They’re empty.”

“Is that so strange? The party isn’t out here in the street.”

Dani turned her head to respond, but Astarion beat her to it. “Normally a patriar’s driver will at least stick around for a short while to tend to the horses, or secure the carriage, or be on hand just in case their patriar master wants to make a hasty escape because they saw their spurned lover across the ballroom floor,” he said. “That sort of thing. But I don’t see a single driver or footman.”

“Maybe they all nipped off to get drinks at a nearby pub,” Dani suggested, but she didn’t believe it. A few drivers and footmen, maybe, but all of them at once?

“Or maybe Lord Dormire is a liberal-minded fellow and invited them all inside to enjoy the party too,” Gale suggested, with an equal lack of conviction. He shook his head. “At this point, if we step inside and there are no guests, I suggest we turn around and leave.”

“And have these masks glued to our faces forever? I think not. Party or no, we have to find this guy and get these masks off.”

“Agreed,” Shadowheart said. “I don’t relish the idea of having to peel off a few layers of skin just to get this thing off my face. It’s pretty, but it’s hardly suitable for everyday wear.”

They paused just outside the manor itself, looking up at the building in all its finery. Though it looked like every other manor building on this street, the stone clean, the architecture and design reflecting a newer, nouveau riche style, the banners and draperies that flowed down or fluttered gently from the windows and down from the roof elevated the facade and created an extravagant yet mysterious aura about the place. To her pleasant surprise, Dani saw figures moving inside, blurred and shadowed forms passing in front of sheer-curtained windows, some swaying to the beat of the music playing inside. The music had shifted to a bouncier courante dance tune and Dani was transported suddenly back to memories of dancing a courante with Wyll, her singing the tune and Wyll teaching her the steps, both of them grinning wide.

“Pity that Wyll hasn’t seemed to make it,” Dani said. “I can just picture him out on the dance floor to this music, showing everyone up with his moves.”

“It’s like you’ve read my mind, my friend! The Blade of Avernus would never turn down a dance.” 

Dani turned with a gasp at the familiar voice. Wyll stood several paces away just up the street, sweeping a low, courtly bow as a greeting. Beside him stood Karlach, grinning brightly and practically bouncing on her toes.

“Wyll! Karlach!” Dani voice rang out exuberant and loud, her heart fit to burst seeing two more of her dearest friends once more on the Material Plane. She let go of Gale and ran to grab them both in a hug. They both laughed and wrapped their arms around her until the three of them were more a tangle of limbs than anything else. “I can’t believe you made it out of Avernus for this! Gods, I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve missed you too, Dan,” Karlach said, giving her as tight a squeeze as she could with Wyll also tangled up with them. They both reeked of brimstone and ash, like the very Hells themselves, but Dani couldn’t care less. She held on as long as she could, trying to make up for months of missed hugs and scarce messages.

When she finally pulled away, Wyll was trying to discreetly wipe his good eye free of tears around the eyeholes of his wolf-shaped mask and Karlach was burning with blue flame. She was also starting to sweat a little, her face glistening around the scaly, dragon-like mask she wore. 

“I have so many questions,” Dani said. “How did you get out of Avernus? Where the hells did you get those clothes? Have you found a blacksmith to fix your heart yet? Do you have to go back?”

“Hang on, soldier, I haven’t said hi to everyone else yet,” Karlach said, laughing. 

Dani stepped to one side as Karlach went around hugging everyone in the group, including Astarion, who relented much the same way he had with Dani, with a look of surprise and a little fond pat on Karlach’s back. Wyll, too, was eager to hug or shake hands with the others, and soon the group, finally back together again, was abuzz with conversation, with Shadowheart and Lae’zel catching up with Karlach and Wyll, and Lae’zel comparing kills with them, and Astarion quipping now and again with his usual humor. Dani stood back with Gale and watched with a smile. It felt as though all the little pieces of her heart, the pieces that her friends had carried away with them the moment Withers’ party had broken up six months before, were once again made whole. She almost felt like she could cry. The old crew, back together again. Or mostly so, since Jaheira, Halsin, and Minsc wouldn’t be joining them.

By and by the details came to light. Karlach and Wyll hadn’t had much luck with a blacksmith just yet, which meant Karlach’s heart was still in disrepair. She was certain it would hold for one night, though, since it had done just fine at Withers’ party six months ago. Despite the danger, they both agreed that trying to go to the party was worth the risk, so they had visited the House of Hope to catch up with Hope and see if she had any clothes left over from Raphael’s closets for them to borrow. It seemed they had been quite lucky sifting through Raphael’s old things, as Wyll was now sporting an elegant red and silver doublet with trim leggings to rival any Upper City bard in style and Karlach had found a black, red, and gold low-cut sleeveless dress with two slits all the way up to her hips. She’d paired it with black leggings and thick black boots that looked like they had probably curb-stomped a cambion sometime in the last two or three days, yet went with the dress surprisingly well. As for how they got here, they said that a portal had opened up for them nearby while they were traveling, not unlike Withers did for them six months ago.

“You don’t think the old bag of bones is behind this party, do you?” Karlach asked.

“No. I wish, but Withers has a more casual style than this,” Dani said, gesturing toward the decorated building they were all loitering in front of. “Plus, Withers wouldn’t enchant our masks to get stuck to our faces like this.”

“Hang on. What?”

Karlach and Wyll exchanged shocked glances before they simultaneously tried to remove their masks. They had just about as much luck as the others, with exactly the same results. Their masks were stuck fast.

“By the Triad,” Wyll said. Karlach only groaned and said a long, drawn out, “Fuuuck.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, we have a plan,” Dani said.

Gale shot her a surprised look. He wasn’t the only one, as Shadowheart and Astarion both looked doubtful, but it was Gale who spoke. “We do?”

“Sure. Go in, find this Lord Dormire guy, get him to talk, get him to remove our masks, steal the booze, and leave. We can iron out the details as we go.”

“Oooh, I volunteer for ‘get him to talk’ duty,” Karlach said, cracking her knuckles. “Astarion and Shadowheart can steal the booze.”

“Just like old times,” Wyll said, shaking his head with a smile. “And here I was hoping for a dance or ten.”

“I’ll dance with you after we know we won’t be spending the rest of our lives perma-masked,” Dani said. “Deal?”

Wyll’s smile was infectious. “Deal. It would be a sin to waste a party, after all, since it’s been so carefully coordinated for us.”

The seven of them, once more reunited on the anniversary of their defeat of the Netherbrain, turned as one to look up at the manor once more. There was no servant on the steps to greet them and the double doors at the front were firmly closed, but every window was lit with cheery light and the sounds inside certainly sounded like a patriar’s party, with music and the low murmur of chatter. Strange events aside, it didn’t seem any different than any other Upper City party Dani had attended in the past year.

So why did her body seemed to buzz with anticipation? The masks, the empty carriages, the disappearing servant, they all hinted at some adventure to come. But what kind? Would there be twisted party games, like the Eomanes liked to do with their masquerades? Was this all an elaborate trap, intended to lure them in and attack them unawares? Was Lord Dormire an enemy, a practical joker, or a harmless patriar, well-meaning but strange?

Dani looked at Gale and found his eyes already on her, patiently waiting for her signal. She took his arm with a little grin and nodded toward the doors with her head. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

Together they stepped through the gates that separated the manor from the street and went up the three steps that led to the double doors. Dani was prepared for magical shenanigans, so she was unsurprised when the doors opened of their own accord the moment she reached for the handles. Golden candlelight spilled out over them as the doors swung inward to reveal a grand foyer, several masked attendees milling about inside and one central figure in black and white standing at the bottom of a carpeted stairway. 

The masked attendees quieted and turned to look at them, all curious glances, fluttering fans, and glimmering finery. But it was the centermost figure who had Dani’s attention.

“You,” she gasped. “The servant from the gates!”

The masked servant bowed low as he had done before and then gestured for them to enter. “Welcome, Heroes of Baldur’s Gate, to the masquerade. Eat, drink, dance, mingle, and...enjoy the party. Lord Dormire will begin the official celebrations shortly.”

“Wait—”

But the servant didn’t wait. With another bow, he disappeared in a flurry of swirling ash and embers.

[jellymellydraws]

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Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 18 - Plucking the Wrong Strings (of Rose's patience) Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

After speaking to Minthara, the party is ready to check on the druid. But Astarion is bored out of his mind, and decides to torment Gale while Rose wraps a few questions up with Minthara. Needing to address his behavior, she pulls the elf aside to give him a piece of her mind. If only her mind didn't have OTHER plans.

Ever present was the crystalline eye that floated idly around the room. It would circle the group which surrounded Minthara's map, following a predetermined path. A vortex of dark magic flowed into its center, forming an uncanny resemblance to an iris. Though it patrolled the room, it did not set its lenses on anyone or anything.

As the orb floated around the room, questions floated in the back of Rose's mind. Who was watching them? What could Gale tell her about it? Could he make another one, just for them?

Could they control it?

Each question was penciled into her journal just as fast as they flitted through her thoughts.

Once the eye completed its third, mindless, rotation, she stopped paying it any attention. 

After getting all the information they needed from Minthara, the group was free to investigate the status of the druid. Rose dismissed her allies to go on ahead while she asked general questions surrounding the temple: the layout, security, and any other topic that could slowly build a positive rapport with the drow. 

Wyll and Alfira took the option to leave, both doing their best to mask their distress. From the looks of the periwinkle tail poking into the room, they didn’t wander too far. Gale remained in the room, but examined the scarce contents of the bookshelves he was forced to ignore when they first arrived.

What was more interesting were the ones who stayed, and what they were doing while Rose continued to play ally to The Absolute. 

Shadowheart took the extra time to refine the markings of her map to match what Minthara had laid out for them. Every so often, she’d glance at Rose as a question was being answered. Watching. Judging.

Just as much as Rose had watched the members of her camp, Shadowheart was also keeping an eye on her.

Smart woman.

Lae'zel kept her stance while everyone around her dispersed. Eyes were focused on their leader, a stern expression creasing her brow. After their impromptu tadpole telepathy, it was no wonder she was further wound up. There was a comfort knowing that the gith took her primary objective seriously. 

Well-- keeping an eye on Rose was probably her secondary objective. It was made abundantly clear that her primary was to get rid of the tadpoles in general.

Then there was Astarion, who leaned against the stone table more casually than Rose would have liked. Any pretense of politeness or decorum he offered towards Minthara had vanished. What remained was the act of looking at his nails— which were fully covered by his gloves — and sighing just loud enough to keep Rose’s attention on him.

"Can’t you pretend to be interested for a few more minutes?" she asked through the tadpole, while Minthara addressed a question from Shadowheart.

"I could, but I don’t want to." Astarion threw a glance at Rose with a half cocked smirk.

Rose lifted her journal when a soft scoff slipped out, and kept it there to hide the smirk stretching across her face. 

Her tadpole wriggled with Lae’zel’s disapproval.

"The Priestess has her own ogre guard in her suite," the drow commander explained. She paused briefly to address the scrying eye with a nod. Instead of continuing its predetermined patrol, it hovered above the map, slowly rotating its lens. 

Intentional. Purposeful.

Something's changed. 

Minthara didn't bat an eye, and continued her explanation to Shadowheart. "Other than that, our security has been limited to give strength to the northern raid."

The cleric nodded with satisfaction and departed from the table. Astarion followed after her, looking all too eager to share his opinions with someone who'd humor him.

"Understandable," Rose answered, attempting to speak evenly despite the scrying eye slowly turning towards her. She pointed down at it, "is this how I’m reporting back to you?"

When the eye settled its sights on Rose, the hairs raised on the back of her neck. Mimicking Minthara, she gave the orb a curt nod.

It wouldn't go away.

"No, that is Moonrise. The eye wanders mindlessly most of the time. Someone is watching, for it to be moving with such purpose. I suspect either the General or another Commander stationed there."

General...?

It began to circle Rose, inspecting her. She closed her journal and pressed it close to her chest, hoping to hide any secrets it was trying to find. When she looked to Minthara for guidance, the drow had turned to speak to a goblin. Even when the drow glanced over, she didn't seem phased or concerned. The smallest of smirks hinted at her amusement at the sight.

The orb stopped at eye level, staring straight into her being. The bottomless pit in the center of the eye could have swallowed her whole. As she stared back at her reflection, her tadpole wriggled: yearning to connect.

Curious...

After tucking the journal away, she grabbed the floating sphere with both her hands and pulled it closer to her face.

The tadpole wriggled more eagerly.

Practically begging to connect.

"'starion!"

Rose snapped her attention to their distressed wizard, being tormented by none other than a very bored elf. She couldn’t leave him alone with Gale for two lousy minutes without him starting shit, could she?

The eye was released from her grasp, free to go wherever the hell else it wanted to. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

As she approached, Astarion was flipping through the pages of a book, too fast to read anything of substance. "Blah blah blah," he dramatically yawned, "boring!"

The book was then flung over his shoulder, soaring straight for the chasm that Rose was crossing over. Deftly, she repositioned herself to catch the book and leap safely to the other side of the opened ground. Gale sighed with relief, dismissing the magical hand he conjured in his desperation.

"Enough," she shot a disapproving look towards the both of them, book firmly tucked under her arm, "let’s go."

Rose turned back to wave to Minthara as they departed. The drow lifted a single hand in acknowledgement and dismissal. 

Still floating where it had been left was the scrying eye.

Still staring right at her.

She swore it was watching after them as she ushered the rest of her group out of the room. That prickly feeling at the back of her neck didn't leave until it was out of sight.

A new question was added to her journal: could they destroy it?

Alfira and Wyll smiled at the approaching group as they flooded out of the room. Gale slunk towards the front, attempting to speak for Rose's attention, but had been stopped with a book getting pushed into his chest.

Instead, she stopped in front of Astarion, "I need a word with you."

Uncomfortable silence fell around the whole of their party. Quiet glances shifted between her and the elf who had nothing to say.

A rare sight from him.

"We'll meet you outside of the pits," Shadowheart decided. The rest of the party took her cue to keep walking.

"Oh darling," he purred, "if you wanted to steal away for a quickie, you could've just asked."

"This'll be quick, all right."

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him. He hardly put up a fight, smirking as he let her pull him into an altar room at the back of the temple.

"So we're going to be rough today, hm?"

"Shut up."

She shoved him against the nearest wall. Effortlessly, he made a performance of catching his balance and giving her a small bow. He extended a hand towards her, staring at her through his lashes.

He wasn't serious.

No fucking way he was serious.

Rose smacked the hand down. The sound bounced off the tall ceiling, emphasizing just how un-fucking-amused she was finding his whole act.

Only the sounds of goblins going about their business was left to fill the space between them. When Astarion stood upright, his mouth was agape. Stuck between trying to form words and holding his tongue.

He didn't get a chance to decide.

"I don’t know if you were paying attention," Rose started through grit teeth, "but our cover was a hair away from getting blown."

"I hardly think tossing books would have been as revealing as you think."

"I'll get to that-- but let's start with that stunt you pulled while we were talking to Minthara."

He contemplated. Shifted his weight. Stared at her with a confused expression.

"You don't remember?!" She hissed. Gods damn it to all the hells. "When we were having a whole conversation in my head?"

He continued to look puzzled. Everything within her froze solid.

"Don’t tell me I imagined that," the air around her thickened. 

No, it was clear as day! Not only was she hearing his voice in her head, but Gale's! Wyll's! Shadowheart's!

Her eyes bounced around the room, seeking answers within the cracks of old stone. Heart racing.

No. No, it had to have happened! Alfira was talking to her-- worried about her! Minthara got her attention!

And what was everyone else doing? She wondered.

Standing still. Quiet. Staring.

Oh Gods... her face blanched.

"Say something," she pleaded.

"You make it too easy, sometimes," his face finally cracked a smirk.

”Damn it, Astarion!” Rose shouted. Her hand quickly covered her mouth.

From a frozen core to boiling blood, she was fuming.

She waited, listened. Glanced around. No one seemed to be listening in, no goblins approached, and nothing else seemed to notice her small fit. All she saw nearby was Lae'zel, leaning against the open doorway with that permanent scowl etched onto her face. Her ire, however, was aimed at the elf.

"We're walking around freely, aren't we? Now, why would she let us go if she saw through our facade?" His tone was light and casual, as if sharing a disagreement on whether rainy days could be found calming. Despite her ire, he wouldn't let up, changing his smirk to an easy smile and gesturing to the wide open room, "we're fine! The drow doesn't suspect a thing!"

"For our sakes, I hope you're right."

"Sure, it could have been a little less clumsy but we'll work on that for next time."

There better not be a next time.

She combed frustrated fingers through her violet hair, pulling the strands out of her face. How could he be calm? Did he realize how dangerous this was?! The fact they had to have this conversation put their very plan at risk! And he was still smirking!

The dull thudding began.

Keep your cool, Rose.

"What do you think would have happened if that went poorly?" She challenged, slowly, "go on, I want you to tell me."

He already got to you once. Don't let it happen again.

"Well, we’d kill everything here." He shrugged casually, "that was the original plan, anyway sooooo— nothing really changes."

"EVERYTHING changes!" 

The drumming intensified in her ears, and her very head was pulsing with each thump.

He was probably still smirking. Did he get off toying with her? That he could get under her skin so easily?

Gods, he needed to pay for that! It wouldn’t be enough to smack the look off his face, she’d better rip the flesh right off!

No, not now— keep it together.

Was one romp in the woods enough for him to dare step out of line? Does he think she wouldn’t lay a finger on him for his insubordination?!

She would.

She should!

That's not how I do things!

Oh, but how else was she supposed to show him his place? It used to always work on the others!

Others...?

Countless faces flashed before her. Too fast to see any clearly. Only the sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed in her mind, followed by a sickening giggle. Quick clicks of boots against stones approached her, giddy. Another shadow from her past, greeting her with a toothy maniacal grin.

Her stomach twisted with each vision. Over and over again she watched a new stranger flash in her mind, screams resonating, bodies thudding. 

Each one filled her with immense satisfaction; reminded her of something she had once lost.

Power.

Authority.

Where was that, now?

As she forced those ideas back, pain twisted in her stomach like a knife. The reverberation in her skull intensified. Bile rose in her throat.

Then suddenly, coolness washed over her face. The visions of red flushed away. 

As the icy feeling descended unto her cheek, she leaned into it with a relieved sigh.

Gods that was refreshing.

Her hand lifted to hold whatever it was that saved her. Wishing it to stay upon her feverish flesh for eternity. 

When she opened her eyes, Astarion’s ruby gaze was locked onto her. He softly tutted, turning his hand over to grace her with the cool back of it.

"Your lecture would go better if you could deliver it without hurting yourself." Astarion teased in a whisper. But the sincerity in his voice overpowered the playfulness of his words.

Immediately, she pulled her face out of his hold, glaring to the side just for the sake of avoiding eye contact. This all started because she was supposed to be scolding him.

Pathetic.

"Besides the nightmares," Astarion continued, sliding his glove back onto his hand, "I hadn’t seen your quirk act up in a while."

"Stop."

The momentary reprieve from her own thoughts was just enough to regain her composure. 

They had a job to do. Astarion could’ve put that job in danger.

She needed him to take this as seriously as the rest of their camp. She clenched her fists and turned her eyes back to him, prepared to shoot a stern warning at him. 

The softness on his face melted all of that away. He was only trying to help, even though she was in the middle of telling him off. Whatever harshness she would point at him, gone.

"I like you, Astarion," she whispered, deflated, "but I can’t let that put the whole camp in jeopardy. If your antics put us in danger, we might not be able to talk our ways out of it next time."

"Oh but the danger is the fun,” he pouted playfully. When her expression remained unchanged, he sighed softly. "Okay," he began, sincerely, but ended with a louder, more dramatic, "fiiiiiine, I’ll behave." 

"Thank you."

"Now," he draped his arm over her shoulder as they walked down the hall, "back to that other thing you said. You like me?"

"Gods," she used two fingers to pry his hand off her, waving off his teasing tone, "you get the picture."

"No no no," he ran to the front, walking backwards as she continued her path towards the pits, "paint the picture for me: how much do you like me?"

Her eyes couldn’t roll back far enough to properly exaggerate her response, "just enough not to stab you, right now."

"Mmmmh I doubt you could strike me that easily," he continued to play, "but it would be fun to see you try."

"Chk, I will see that my blade finds purchase."

"Oh, were you hoping to get a show, Lae’zel?" Astarion cooed, "of the sexually explicit kind, not the musical kind— to be clear."

"I know what you were implying."

Lae'zel peeled herself off the doorway when they got close. Her disapproval couldn't be more clearly directed at Rose as they walked down the hall.

It was fine when only Astarion was around to witness her falter. One witness, one confidant, easy to manage. 

Safe. 

She winced at the thought. How badly had she ruined the strong-and-capable-leader image that the gith had formed about her?

Rose couldn't make that same mistake with the others. They relied on her too much to witness her tear at the seams.

Keep it together.

Next Chapter >>

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires, Chapter 4

Warnings: canon typical violence, injuries, feelings are hard, Astarion being himself

Summary: Astarion ponders a question: are spiders or feelings more terrifying?

Notes: I love these idiots. (This was sort-of edited, so if anyone spots anything that should be changed, feel free to let me know.)

Enjoy! <3

Read on ao3 here!

Chapters: 1, 2, 3

After clearing out a destroyed village taken over by goblins, rescuing the deep gnome said goblins had tied to a windmill, and catching a bugbear and an ogre…ahem…in flagrante delicto, the entire team are too tired and/or injured to want to move anywhere else that day. So they set up camp inside the village in the late afternoon sun. Wyll, Gale, Shadowheart, and Karlach all set up their bedrolls in the middle of the largest house, Lae’zel chooses a different building altogether, and Astarion…

Well. He has a bit of a bone to pick with Sable, so he follows her when she heads down into that blacksmith’s forge they found. He sees her shoulders twitch as she realizes that he’s following her down, but she says nothing. 

“I get the distinct impression that you’ve been avoiding me, kitten,” he says conversationally as they make their way down the stairs. “You’ve barely even looked at me outside of the fighting.” 

“Hard to look at someone after you’ve made a fool of yourself in front of them, don’t you think?” comes the muttered reply as she drops her gear about ten feet from the forge. 

He drops his own gear, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. Considering that he’s taken on the role of the group’s archer, he wasn’t injured during all the fighting, though after sweating through tough fights, his curls are beginning to droop just a bit. She hates that she finds it so cute. “Oh? Is that what you think happened last night? Curious…” 

“What do you mean, ‘curious’?” she grumbles, picking up her bucket and heading right back for the stairs. He sighs under his breath but follows. “Seems pretty obvious to me.” 

He rolls his eyes, his own bucket swinging from his hands. “You’re joking, right? Did you think I left because I disliked your reaction to me?” She pushes open the door to the outside and steps through, and he frowns as he hurries after. In a much more hushed tone, he says to her, “Because that’s not it at all. Seeing you squirming in arousal under me was…delicious.” 

“Then…then why did you leave?” she replies, just as softly, ignoring the heat his words bring to her cheeks. “Because I still feel like I did something wrong.” 

“Kitten,” he groans, rubbing a gloved hand down his face. “I told you last night, you did nothing wrong!” 

“And then you immediately left right after!” she hisses back. “With no explanation, either! You really think that ‘no nothing’s wrong’ and then just disappearing into the night is going to put anyone at ease?”

He opens his mouth, blinks as he really thinks about it, then sighs and shakes his head. “All right, you…may have a point there. I’m sorry that I made you feel that way, Sable. My intentions were the exact opposite in fact!” She turns her head to look at him in surprise, and he looks…regretful. “I thought I was pushing too far, and wanted to give you some space,” he explains softly. They reach the well, and the vampire starts winding up the rope. “I…realize now I should have explained that, instead of taking an appropriately dramatic exit.” 

She’s quiet for a long moment as the bucket nears the surface. Deciding to finally throw all caution to the wind, she asks pointedly, “With anyone else, you don’t care if you push. Why do you care with me?” 

Astarion is so thrown off guard that the bucket rope slips through his fingers as he stares at her. And instead of the splash of the bucket hitting water, they hear the loud clattering echo of wood shattering on stone. 

They blink at each other, then look down the well for the first time. Darkness all the way until, several dozen feet down, there’s a sort of…green glow. 

“Well. That can’t be good,” the vampire mutters. 

“I’m…” She trails off as, while they watch, a shadow passes over the green glow. 

A shadow with a rather lot of legs. 

“Shit,��� they both say at the same time, and run for the main camp.  

////////////////////////

The matriarch phase spider finally goes still, dead and leaking caustic blood onto the stone ground in the enormous cave system they found down the empty well. Shadowheart and Sable rush to heal those who’d been poisoned, several people groaning in pain, everyone injured in some way. 

Sable rushes up to Astarion, who’s looking worse for wear on the ground nearby. “A l-little help, kitten?” he gasps out, clutching his shoulder. The vampire had shot out at least three of the giant spider’s eyes, earning himself a particularly nasty sting in the process. 

The druid drops to her knees beside him, already working on his armor and shoving an antidote into his hand in the process. “Drink that. It’ll taste like shit, but drink it anyway. I don’t know anything about phase spider venom.” 

His leather armor falls open as he uncorks the bottle and downs it in a series of gulps. “Gods, that is disgusting!” he gasps, face scrunched up, and she’s not sure if it’s from pain or the taste. 

“Yes, well, better something gross than being dead,” she murmurs, pulling out a knife. “Hope you didn’t like this shirt.” 

“Wait–” But it was too late. She’s cut open the fabric over his shoulder to see the wound. “That was my favorite shirt! Mostly because it’s only one of two, and this is significantly nicer than the other one!” “Get Gale to use mending on it. He will if you ask nicely,” she mutters. She leans down and peers at the wound, but the antidote is already working, angry, visibly blackened veins turning mostly invisible under the skin again. “Honestly, poison shouldn’t affect you at all, you’re technically undead.” 

“A great mystery,” he says through gritted teeth as she pours clean water from a small vial into the wound. Once she’s happy with it, she casts a healing spell, brushes a kiss over his shoulder, and rushes off to Karlach who’s puking over the edge of the stone ledge they’re on. 

Astarion blinks, frozen. 

Then he blinks again, and woodenly turns toward where she’s rubbing Karlach’s back, her hand coated in an ice spell to not get burned. 

Did…she just…?

He’s almost completely silent as they get patched up and look around for loot. On the ground near one of the stone pillars, around an odd pit, they found a gem on the ground, the one that the soggy journal earlier in the caves had mentioned. They’d found a couple very interesting items that Gale will identify in the morning, and trudge wearily back up to the surface, exhausted. 

Sable is stumbling in weariness by the time that they get back to the blacksmith’s cellar. Astarion catches her as she nearly falls down the stairs, and simply lifts her into his arms. She tries to protest, but he gently shushes her. “Better this than smashing that pretty face open,” he murmurs, and sets her down on the edge of the cold forge. 

They’d never managed to get any water from down in the well, so the vampire pulls out a water skin, wetting down her washcloth and cleaning the gore from her face. “...I can do it,” she mumbles, her eyes already closing. 

“I'm sure you can. Thank me tomorrow,” he replies. It’s quiet for a moment, before he asks, a little uncomfortably, “Why did you kiss my shoulder?” 

“...why did I what now?” she asks, nearly slurring in fatigue. 

“After you healed me. You kissed my shoulder. I mean, granted, it was very quick and extremely chaste. A little disappointing, really.” Lies, he can still feel the warmth of her lips if he thinks about it. 

He’s trying not to think about it.

She snorts softly, and a tiny smile appears on her lips. It looks almost wistful. “Sorry, should’ve asked.” 

“...appropriate thanks for my autonomy aside, that still doesn’t answer the question.” 

If anything, the smile grows. “When I was a kid, whenever I was hurt it was my momma that would heal me. She’s who taught me my first healing spell. And every time she healed up a scrape or cut or bruise, she’d give a little kiss to that spot. ‘For luck,’ she’d say.” Half asleep now, she lets out a little, content sigh. “Wanted to give you some good luck. You deserve it.” 

He stares at her, and whether it’s the fact that she’s nearly asleep and thus not looking at him, or the fact that she’s caught him so off guard, no one knows. But his expression is pure, unguarded, a mix of shock, a tiny hint of ever present suspicion…and gratitude so thick it makes his throat tighten. 

In his silence, she falls fully asleep, her sudden, gentle weight against his chest a testament to her slumber. With no one there to see, he lays his cheek gently against the top of her head, wraps his arms around her tightly, and sighs. “Well, shit.”

[domnorian]

How does isekaied Luthor get along with his companions?

Oh boy, it's gonna be a long one. I'm gonna make a list in order of appearance.

First, let me tell you that for ALL the companions, Lex WILL adapt his personality to be sure they will stay by his side. Because he's a manipulative bitch. But I guess everyone knew that already.

Lae'zel : She's an alien. And an alien from a species that tries to conquer the galaxy. So of course Lex first reaction to her and her people was not particularly friendly. But the fact she get things done, she's strong and efficient, made him quickly change his mind. He realized she was a very helpful asset. He also started asking questions about her people, to learn more about them because he's a giant nerd. Lae'zel quickly showed an interest in him: Lex is strong, charismatic (16 in charisma helps), smart and pragmatic, so of course she fell hard for him. And since it was just about sex and no feelings attached, Lex went with it. Lex still would betray Lae'zel if she wasn't enough of an asset for him anymore though. Lucky for her, she is pretty useful. He made sure to make her see what her Queen really was. And I think Lae'zel would now follow him until the end of times.

Shadowheart : Yes, Lex saved her on the mindflayer ship. For the same reason that he agreed to take all the others with him: he is aware he needs all the help he can get. So he opened her pod, hoping she could prove useful or throw her on a mindflayer to be able to escape. Fortunately, she was useful. The main issue is that Shadowheart tends to trust the wrong kind of persons, as you must know. And Lex is no exception. He did try many times to steal the artifact from her but failed. The fact she was avoiding telling the truth, though, that annoyed Lex pretty badly. When she finally revealed who she was, he at first was sceptical about her religion, but eventually showed great interest in Shar (you know, the whole "hope is pointless" was the moment he decided her religion wasn't so bad). Since Shadowheart was used to people hating on her cult, she was pleasantly surprised and well... let's just say she likes Lex. She approves his decisions most of the time and regrets hiding the truth from him since he's so trustworthy and comprehensive (lol). I think deep down she knows who he really is... but in the full meaning of it. She sees a broken man who will fight until the end to get what he wants. I think she pities him in some way.

Astarion : I was actually not that surprised when I realized Astarion and Lex wouldn't get along really well. Sure, Astarion approves Lex's decisions most of the time. But he still disapproves when Lex asks him to fuck off. Which is pretty often. For Lex, Astarion is annoying and clearly tries way too hard to get his nose into Lex's business. Also, the fact he hid he was a vampire. I wouldn't say Lex hates him, though. They have a relationship that looks more like siblings bickering. Astarion likes to mess with Lex and Lex likes to remind Astarion who's boss and who's the man who gave his blood so Astarion could finally be useful. I think maybe Astarion doesn't trust Lex because he reminds him too much of Cazador.

Gale : Ha. Gale. Poor darling. He really was right when he told Lex that he made him worse. Lex has a very bad influence on Gale. And Gale knows it. But he also knows he has no choice but to follow Lex to survive. He really is the one companion I'm truly sad about. He knew from the beginning that Lex was bad news but he went with it anyway. They both try to be civil with one another. Lex is a very good student to Gale and always listen to him when he talks about magic. Because for Lex, magic is science unexplained. And he's dying to find an explanation.

Wyll : Lex tried his best to manipulate Wyll. Only to fail again and again. Wyll isn't dumb, he sees clearly that Lex isn't a hero but is a selfish bastard with too much ambition. Lex thinks Wyll is an annoying goody two-shoes. When Wyll left after they attacked the emerald grove, Lex was relieved.

Karlach : Lex and Karlach didn't interact much. Lex did try to manipulate her as well but she too left camp after they attacked the emerald grove.

Minthara : She and Lex are adorable. In a creepy kinda way. That's all I'm gonna say for now because I will post screenshots of them later I think.

Halsin : Believe it or not, Halsin is still alive. He reminded Lex too much of Clark to be able to kill him from the get go. So Lex made sure the goblins already left the place when he rescued Halsin. Of course, Lex lied and didn't tell him he was with the goblins at the time. Halsin left, trying to reach the grove in time. Lex told him: "good luck". Maybe he did have luck because Lex didn't find Halsin on the battleground. He's hoping Halsin left and is still alive somewhere.

That's it for now. It may evolve as I progress into the game.

[paganwitchisis]

"His Real Family" Chapter 2

Chapter two: An Explanation and Danger

Rating: E for Explicit!!

Trigger Warnings: Pregnancy, violence, murder of NPC, blood drinking, PinV smut, smut, oral, creampie, hand job

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Astarion

Word Count:3,628

Chapter one is here!

AO3 link is here!

Story:

Tav felt a headache coming on when she looked at this woman. She was fairly pretty, with her long hair and bright eyes, but Tav had to agree with Astarion.

Something seemed off.  

Tav entered the room hand in hand with Astarion only moments ago to the companion room. Everyone was awake and aware of the situation, but Astarion had questions. He also wanted to drive her away, but considering the woman was still there, it seems his actions to give Tav pleasure and make Velanna leave that way had failed. He was happy he could reassure and give his lover bliss, but it would have been nice if there was an added bonus. If Velanna had left.

“Ah, there you are!” Gale exclaimed when his eyes landed on the elf. “That wasn’t nice, you know.”

“Nice? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Astarion retorted, even though he knew full well what Gale was referring to.

“Sure, you don’t.” Gale replied as he rolled his eyes in response. “We need to figure everything out, Astarion.”

“Well, I am here, aren't I?” Astarion scoffed and sat down with Tav on his lap in a chair near the fire. Astarion always liked the warmth on his skin and was trying to make a statement with Tav sitting on him intimately. Astarion knew Tav wasn't happy to do this but he knew she would go along with his plans for his sake.  

Gale sighed audibly, as Velanna, who was sitting in a chair nearby, looked distraught.

“Do you both share a room?” Velanna asked, curiously.

“Of course! Why wouldn't I share a room with my lover?” Astarion stated matter-of-factly.

“Lover? But we promised to be each other’s firsts! I’ve stayed celibate for you!” Velanna pleaded, but it was for naught as Astarion began to laugh wholeheartedly, his grip tightening on his lover.

“That ship has sailed long ago. You may as well rip your bandage off. I mean, didn’t you hear us just a moment ago?” Astarion kept laughing still at a visibly upset elven woman. It was only then that Tav was putting the pieces together. If Astarion was still a virgin as an elf before being afflicted with vampirism, does that mean…

Tav hoped the woman was lying, because the implication was just too vile to consider. Astarion didn’t have a choice in who he bedded or did not sleep with. Sure, he could choose the mark, but Astarion was looking for survival. He couldn’t afford to come back empty-handed. He was a thrall to Cazador’s power until the Nautiloid collected him along with the others a few months ago. Did this mean Cazador took his…

No.

Tav refused to believe this. Surely, Astarion would have remembered that aspect during his torture. If this was wrong, then Velanna was lying, but Astarion didn’t react. Tav probed his mind and reached out to him via the tadpoles and asked between them the question that has been worrying her.

“Were you a virgin when you turned?”

Astarion chuckled, his laugh had died down since then.

“Somehow I doubt it, my love, but I don’t remember, to be honest. I just have a strong suspicion that isn’t true, but it isn't enough to accuse her.”  Astarion kissed the space behind Tav’s ear and Tav managed to withhold the moan that wanted to escape her lips.

While they had their discussion, Gale was trying to comfort the upset and dejected woman. She wailed and cried as their companions shook their heads at Astarion’s blunt response….well, maybe most of the companions.

Lae’zel perked up and commented “It is good to be blunt. My kin are usually blunt to avoid miscommunication.”

“But not like this.” Karlach commented as she made her way to the girl so she could soothe her.

“Couldn’t you have been gentler, Astarion?” Wyll scolded, but Jaheira retorted for him.

“No, he cannot. What did you expect? A leopard to change their spots?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Astarion mumbled with a smile on his face.

“Was it me?” a small voice asked out among the chatter. It was easy to mistaken or ignore but it was there and because of their close proximity, Tav could hear Velanna easily.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

“Don’t humor yourself, darling. Now, who are you?” Astarion demanded, his hand sliding up and down Tav’s skin on the side of her stomach under her shirt. Astarion was trying to reassure her and show his care in any way he can.

Karlach and Gale took their seats near by and waited as Velanna calmed down and finally started to explain the situation. The rest of their companions either took a seat or hovered near by.

“We grew up together in the upper city. Your parents were wealthy and had old money.” Velanna looked around at the confused faces and clarified “I mean, they had money inherited to them from their time in Evereska. Apparently, they moved to Baldur’s Gate for opportunities for Astarion. I was a butcher’s daughter. We had money, but no one of any class would hang out with a butcher’s family, so I grew up lonely until Astarion came into my life. He was sent by his parents for some errands, and we sort of bumped into each other.” Velanna took a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in. Astarion’s eyes narrowed at parts of the story, but he didn’t speak. Tav was surprised when she felt his tadpole connect to hers and their thoughts became shared. He was being open with her so when Astarion called out the bullshit in his head, she heard it too. Astarion wasn't buying the butcher story one bit but he only aired his grievance to Tav and didn’t speak out.

“It may be plausible for my parents to have money from Evereska, but for a butcher to afford the upper city? I don’t care how popular you are, it just doesn’t happen.” Astarion thought with the tadpole. He began kissing Tav’s shoulder as she sat on his lap.

“I wouldn’t know, but let her finish so we can hear it all.”

“All her lies.”

“Astarion…” Tav thought longingly. She wondered briefly which god she angered to get this punishment and then she chuckled. They pissed off a few and a devil too. Tav didn’t think an actual god was behind this madness but she could have gone without knowing Astarion was engaged before.

“I was never betrothed, darling.” Astarion must have heard her thoughts and replied. “It doesn’t matter, because all my firsts are with you. Although my past made it so I’ve done every depraved and lustful thing known to man, none of those were with love and care. You changed that. You’re carrying our child. What I wouldn’t give to be locked away with you for a decade right now” Astarion winc0ed as he began to grow hard at the thought. Thankfully Tav was sitting on his lap so no one could see his predicament but Astarion was still sore from their night of passion and the morning after.

“Slow it down, honey. Let’s get rid of her first.” Tav said and paid attention to Gale who was asking questions about the butcher’s lifestyle.  Astarion began thinking of anything he could to remove himself from that situation. He tried not to think of Tav rubbing her backside unconsciously on his groin, he tried to ignore the memories from their recent trysts coming up and instead focused on thinking about their child and what they would look like. It seemed to do the trick as he remained soft in his pants.

“So what else happened?” Astarion asked and finally spoke up.

“Well, we began hanging out every day. He was maybe twelve when we met. His parents were rather strict, but as long as he kept his grades up, they saw no problem with Astarion hanging out with me. It wasn't long...maybe four or five years later, and we were dating. We had our first kiss overlooking the docks. He was so nervous, it was endearing.” Velanna fondly remembered what was in her memories. Astarion, on the other hand, wrapped his arms around Tav. He was upset, so he drew Tav’s head down and kissed her longingly. Astarion wasn't settling for a chaste kiss, instead he deepened the kiss.

“I love you.” Astarion said to Tav via the tadpole.

“Really, Astarion?” Gale chided. “Have you no decency?”

Astarion pulled back and looked Gale dead in the eyes before replying. “Not for her.”

Upset but not crying, Velanna spoke up. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Astarion rolled his eyes and sighed. “I have someone I love and you know nothing about me. Most women in this situation would take the loss, realize people change and be done with it. You? You keep pestering me as if I would leave my lover for you?”

“I just want you to know what happened and for a chance! I still love you!” Velanna begged.

“But I don’t love you.” Astarion stated matter-of-factly.

“Astarion, just hear the poor girl out.” Gale tried to intervene but was shut down.

“And then what, Gale? Are you telling me I should ignore Tav for this hussy?” Astarion angerly spat.

“No, of course not, but you should be informed about your decision before making it. Don’t you want to remember what…”

“Shut up! That is my story to tell and I don’t want it spilled! Anything about my past is not to be given out.” Astarion was incensed at Gale. Gale almost spilled about his memory issue thanks to his two centuries of torment. Tav calmed the vampire down with gentle touches and soothing words. Astarion buried his head in the crook of her neck, thankful that Tav’s hair covered the scar he left her with. A scar that shows the world that she is his and soon, her belly would show that as well. Halsin had informed them that day some time ago that Tav was already through the first trimester, that the first time they made love, he impregnated her. It was surreal to think that their first night conceived their child and Astarion was thankful he didn’t disassociate much during the act. It had been almost four months since they laid together and Tav was already developing a baby bump, the child’s sex was even known and Tav was tired more than usual because of this. The first time Astarion heard the child’s heartbeat, he was perplexed. He never put it together until her blood had changed so much that he could tell. Halsin explained it was the baby’s sex that was flooding Tav’s body with extra hormones. It wasn’t until recently that the child’s sex was determined. Due to Tav’s health and condition, Astarion would find himself rubbing her feet more often than not lately because adventuring had become more exhausting for her. The threat of battle forced them to keep a fifth person in their party lately to be Tav’s shield (even if they didn’t know why). Jaheira had guessed correctly the one night, but Astarion was able to convince her otherwise, or at least he thought he did. Astarion groaned and subtly placed his hand on the small bump in her stomach as he held her.

“I’ll listen to the story, but I am NOT leaving Tav.” Astarion stated decisively. Astarion glanced at Velanna and could see her mask shift a moment. She played the part of the crying ex well, but for a moment, Velanna was angry.

“How is it Astarion of all people is the prize here?” Shadowheart asked. 

“You’re just jealous cause I’m prettier than you.” Astarion jested after pulling his face away from Tav’s neck.  Astarion didn’t know what this woman was playing at or lying for but he would find out.

“What else do you have to say?” Astarion looked at Velanna and demanded more than asked.

Velanna sputtered a bit, a little taken aback as she watched everything play out. She took a breath and looked around the room and at all the eyes staring back at here as she continued.

“Eventually Astarion went to higher education and was being groomed by his father for the magistrate position. Astarion was a very intelligent man so within a few years, he became a magistrate when it usually would take five years to a decade to succeed. By then, he was in his thirties because he took some time off of education for his rite.”

“Rite?” Karlach asked.

“Rite of adulthood” Velanna explained “Normally it takes a year, but Astarion was rebelling against one of the elders. It took a bit but he passed. We decided we would be beholden to one another. We couldn’t afford a ring at the time and we wanted to hide it from my parents who thought I could do better. After a few years it came out to Astarion’s parents and they gave us their blessing. They even offered to give Astarion money for a ring but when I was going to get one with him, he disappeared. I scurried around to find him only to hear he...he…” Velanna began to tear up, her eyes became red and glossy, her lip quivered but no tears fell Astarion noted. “Well, they said it was murder. Mr. Ancunin, Astarion’s father was distraught. His mother lost weight and it almost broke them. They moved back to Evereska after the funeral. They couldn’t stand to be here after everything that happened.”

“How did you find me?” Astarion asked as he kissed Tav’s other shoulder.

“I heard about a band of adventurers who slayed a hag and one of the adventurers was your description. I thought it was impossible but I had to check! Some woman in a green dress from the hag situation led me to the Elfsong Tavern. It was funny, the tavern owner thought you were married already because you were with another woman so much. Are you two...you can’t be, right? You keep calling her your lover, so you’re not…?”

“Not what?” Astarion knew where the question was leading but he wanted her to sweat some more.

“Married. Are you two married?”

Tav blushed slightly but didn’t answer, leaving Astarion to fill in the blanks for her.

“Would it matter if we were?” Astarion asked but it seemed Gale had enough.

“Oh, for the love of Mystra! No, they aren't married. Why can’t you be helpful, Astarion?”

“When will you stop butting into my business?”

Finally, it seemed the rest of the companions perked up. Some were against the woman, Minsc surprisingly being one of them because Boo didn’t like her, while others, like Karlach were sympathetic. Shadowheart tried to talk the elven woman out of being in love with Astarion and instead to look for someone else. The woman was again upset and Astarion had heard enough.

“Look, it has been a couple hours and we’re hungry. We might be back, but don’t count on it.” Astarion said before he got up and lightly dragged Tav out the door. Once the door closed, Tav spoke up finally.

“Star, I stayed quiet so you could sort this out, but we haven't really gotten anything we could work with.”

“Let’s go out and get you something to eat, my dear, we can discuss it there. Then, maybe I can get my lunch.” Astarion gave a rakish smile and Tav laughed.

“Oh, no, I’ll make sure your belly is full, but without a potion of healing, we can hold off on making love until later. I’m so sore.”

Astarion chuckled and noted they were out of potions because of the same altercation that brought Velanna to their door. The hag was strong and got a good slice in on Tav’s shoulder blade but Astarion stitched it together with ease. It wasn't big, but it was deep.

“Do you mind getting me something while I lay down?”

“Of course, my love.”

Astarion kissed her chastely and he left her at the door to their room so he could procure some fresh food for the mother of his child. Astarion left the Elfsong and realized that it was a good idea that Tav didn’t accompany them as the weather was turning foul. Snow rolled in like a thick blanket, the temperature had dropped and the wind howled past him.

Astarion dipped into an apothecary on the way to the local cafe and he picked up their entire supply of potions so Tav would be restocked as well as his pack. Astarion smiled at the delicious thoughts in his head and what he could do to Tav after they are healed. Astarion picked up some fruit and protein for his lover before he headed back. Astarion got back relatively fast, fearful that they may get snowed in and went to their room.

Only to find it empty.

It wasn't just empty, there was a sign of a struggle.  

Astarion shrugged his pack back on and dropped the food off on the dresser before checking for her in the companion room.

Astarion entered the room in a frenzy as Gale called out to him.

“Astarion! I didn’t expect you to return. You okay?” Gale asked as Astarion rushed into the room and looked around briefly to find Tav was not present. Angry, Astarion snapped out to Gale a response.

“Have you seen Tav?”

“No, I haven’t. Is everything alright?” Gale now asked again but tentatively.

“No, Tav is missing.”

“Maybe she left you?” Velanna suggested, a smug smile on her face.

Astarion rounded the corner, called upon his vampiric strength he rarely used and thrust his hand into Velanna’s shirt, picking her up by it and slamming her against the wall. Astarion wasn’t thinking, rather he was panicking. He couldn’t think straight, the fear welling up inside him was overwhelming. He wouldn’t have been this way if his room didn’t show signs of a struggle. If his room didn’t look like there was a fight and his lover and child were missing! There was only one new person here and he would bet any amount of gold she knew something about it.

“What did you do to her?” Astarion roared, slamming her back into the wall with each word. Gale and Karlach went to intervene when Astarion snarled. “Don’t you dare!”

The rest of the companions watched as the events unfolded and either were too stunned or confused to act.

“Please Astarion, I didn’t do anything! I love you! Maybe she left!” Velanna pleaded

“She would never leave and you have no fucking clue what love is! I’ve felt it, I’ve held it! You’re fucking nothing!”

“We agree that Tav isnt the type to leave you,” Gale said. “but Velanna was with us the whole time!”

“You don’t understand what is at stake!” Astarion kept thinking about the love of his life and the child nestled within. The child was a gift he shouldn’t have. A gift that was as precious to him as their mother. “There is a blizzard outside! She wouldn’t leave on her own!”

“What do you mean? What is at stake?”

“Gods damn it! Tav is pregnant with our son! MY son!”

At this, a couple things happened rather quickly. Velanna drew a disgusted face and she looked perplexed. Karlach, Gale, Shadowheart and the rest of the companions erupted with chatter, all were surprised except Jaheira who was pushing about how vindicated she was over her belief about Tav being pregnant.

“I knew it, I knew it!” Jaheira exclaimed.

Halsin was the only one who was able to calm the conversations, his booming voice surprising the room. “Tav is missing! This can wait!” His voice thundered.

Astarion slammed Velanna against the wall once more. “Where is my Tav!?”

Velanna just laughed at his question and shook her head. She had stopped pleading some time ago and instead looked amused or upset.

“If I knew that bitch was pregnant I would have stuck a sword in her womb...instead, well...it won’t matter much longer.”

Astarion was still not in his own mind as Scratch came up to the woman as she instigated Astarion and sniffed the woman. Scratch backed up in a hurry and whined, his tail tucked and retreating. Astarion took a breath to stabilize himself and that was when he caught a whiff of whatever the dog had smelled and he tossed the woman at Minsc.

“Restrain her!” Astarion rubbed his nose and replied again “She is a Gur. Her stench is undeniable”  Astarion growled

“You won’t find her!” Velanna chortled and spat at Astarion in glee.

 Astarion went back to the room, Gale, Shadowheart, Halsin and Karlach followed closely behind. Astarion looked around for clues, anything to suggest what had happened and what kind of condition his beloved would be in.

“We have to find her!” Astarion was panicking, fearful of what would happen to her or what may have already been done to her.

“We will, you just need your wits about you.” Gale tried to reassure him.

“She is pregnant. If anything happens to the child…” Astarion was distraught. His son was like a treasure to him and he would be damned if anything happened to that gift! This included Tav who helped him heal and loved him for who he really was. Tav was his light, his freedom and his love.  It was then he caught a scent that was all too familiar to him as he entered their room once again for clues.

Tav’s blood.

[blackjackkent]

Some of the companions have things to say in the wake of Rakha's absolutely terrible night. (Halsin and Astarion, for some reason, don't have any comments, but everyone else does.)

-----

Wyll, of course, is gentle and reassuring as always:

"I see the hunger in your eyes, and I see how it worries you. It worries me too. But you are stronger than the hunger. You can resist. You *will* resist. I'm sure of it."

Rakha wishes she had his confidence... but she's grateful he still hasn't turned away from her.

-----

Her other closest friends are considerably less solicitous in their reactions:

"You are worried about this killing urge. I can see it. I will try to help you resist - but spill a single drop of my blood, and yours will flow in a gusher."

"I have been watching you more closely than ever since the night we were forced to restrain you. I believe you have your urges under control, for now, and that you may become the master of them. But if you so much as think about harming me, I will pluck the thought from your mind and then your heart from your chest. That is all."

Harsh but fair. In truth these feel, to Rakha, like much more reasonable responses to the situation than Wyll's. If she ever tries to turn her blade on her companions, she would rather they kill her in return than die at her hand.

-----

Karlach's response is... odd.

"About what happened - about your affliction. I know you're sorry. And I know you're probably afraid it'll happen again. I'll look after myself. You look after you. If we each do our part, we'll both be all right."

This feels like a surprisingly standoffish response from the self-titled "Mama K", especially when compared to her near-simultaneous line about Shadowheart's current struggle: "It's up to us to look after her now. If she needs a rest, we carry her. If she needs a hand, she has ours. If she needs ears, we've got four between us. Whatever she needs." I would have expected her to be more vocal about also looking after Rakha, as well as encouraging her to simply look after herself.

This does, on some level, fit with the fact that Rakha hasn't been particularly close with her or discussed the Urge much with her compared to Wyll and Lae'zel, but it does come across strange. The obvious explanation, of course, is that Rakha spooked her real bad. This makes Rakha sad to realize, because Karlach's good humor and kindness have definitely had an impact on Rakha's own worldview and even though they're not as close, Karlach is another of the people Rakha really doesn't want to let down.

-----

Shadowheart's response is also surprising, but in the other direction.

"I know you have your personal demons to contend with... but if I didn't make it clear before, I think you can beat this. Just don't give in, and seek help if you need it."

This is remarkably sincere coming from Shadowheart, especially given that she is deep in the throes of her own personal crisis right now. I think this honestly means more to Rakha, just at this moment, than almost anyone else's input.

(It's also darkly funny given that Shadowheart tells Rakha to seek help if she needs it, but also at this point actively refuses having a conversation about literally anything at the moment bc she's brooding so hard about Aylin and Shar.)

-----

Gale just doesn't want to talk about it, and frankly I don't blame him:

"Glad to see we all made it through the night intact. A promising sign that we may be able to curb those urges of yours. Now, as the saying goes, 'What's left undone should be left unspoken.' Is there some lighter subject you wish to discuss?"