#i thought i could make it to knife falling off Astarion’s hand

[oriixxc]

I trust you won't kill me.

and if you do, then I've gotten sloppy and probably have it coming.

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[sae1549]

More very random head cannons. -SFW—NSWF-

Characters mentioned: Astarion, Gale, shadowheart, laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Minthara and Halsin +1

Content warning: hair pulling, oral f/recieving & m/recieving, knife play, size kink, predator/ pray kink.

Word count: 3.2k

Astarion

-SFW-

- He has a very gravelly voice in the morning that lasts around 25 minutes.

- He absolutely loves cats. And later you end up moving to the underdark, you both adopt a cat that is able to travel alone to get the things that they need. He sees it as your baby and treats it as such.

- He is the person you go to if you want any gossip. When you both get to the underdark I could see him becoming a bartender or something like that. Where he can swindle people of their money while having fun doing it.

- He can cook. Contrary to him not eating normal food anymore he was once human. But he will look over cookbooks for a while if you tell him that you would like to try his cooking.

- He dislikes flowers, of course he thinks that they are beautiful but they do not live long. He gets sad because he links that thought to losing you. So he tries to keep those thoughts away from him.

- He absolutely loves shoes, he can rant and rave about them, when everyone was in camp he would like to go up to gale the most. He really liked his shoes, even going as far as stealing them. Only to have a grumpy gale walking through camp with his arms crossed pushing Astarion over and taking his shoes back.

- Astarion has to clean himself in his bat form as well as his normal form. So he takes extra long in the shower. But he gets so fluffy!

- He starts seeing a therapist after everything is settled in the underdark.

- He loves to give forehead kisses.

- Astarion loves to be called beautiful!! Call him beautiful often!!!!!

- When you ask him what his natural eye color is he thinks about it for a while getting back to you telling you that they were a steel blue.

- He does not have many things, but he wants to some day. So without him noticing you slowly start to give him little things here and there. Like an extra bedroll that you had, a blanket. Some new pillows, candles, anything that you can find that you think he would like to make him more comfortable.

- He loves horror movie nights!!!!!!!!!

-NSFW-

Ascension ver.

- When he is ascended he does not care as much if you get off first.

- He would be a lot more rough, biting much more feverishly and more often.

- He would give you head, but he would not do it for long.

- He knows exactly how good you are feeling, but will make you tell him.

- He is the dominant one.

- He will take up multiple partners as he expects you to do the same. He would go out of his way to ask if you would want to add another partner into your nightly activities.

- His sex drive would increase greatly.

- He sets a brutal pace.

- He likes to tease.

- He would not fall asleep after doing it, but he would ask you about what you liked and how he did.

- He lets you rest your head on his lap to fall asleep after.

Gale

-SFW-

- Man can sing. But mostly does it when he is bathing or concentrating. Quite interesting to hear for the first time when you are in battle together. Singing in a tired gravely voice before shooting off another spell.

- He tried to convince Tara to let him dress her up in a cute little outfit one time. He left around 30 minutes later covered in scratches. That is to say he does not make those comments anymore.

- He likes painting from memory, yes he can control the weave but he would like to have some sort of proof if there was ever a day when he could no longer handle the weave any longer.

- When coming back from a particularly hard day, if you massage his shoulders a bit he will melt into a puddle and fall asleep.

- His favorite juice is apple juice.

- Always likes books more than movies. Does not matter if it is actually a good movie.

- He keeps photos of you on hand so he can show his students. And they know so much about you and he wants to ask if you would visit his class to shed some light on recent events. Totally not an excuse for him to see you more.

- He likes his food hot, even his salads. All food needs to be hot.

- Loves silver jewelry, his wedding ring is silver with purple stones embedded into the ring. You have the matching version obviously but it is a wide band with white and purple stones honored on the ring.

-NSFW-

- He is into pulling hair, if things are getting a bit more rough. You are sitting on his lap. Getting into a very heated makeout session, in a heated kiss his hand snakes up onto the back of your head, seating itself into your hair. The other hand softly rocking you back and forth. He breaks away from the kiss. “You are quite breathtaking my love.” He says through slightly labored breaths, he grips and gently pulls on the hair at the back of your head. Swiftly latching his lips onto your neck.

- He does like when there is a bit of lightheartedness while making love, but it is serious so he will always go back to being more serious.

- He likes to lay in the sun after finishing, watching as you also bask in the light, he thinks it makes you look ethereal.

- He would go at a moderate pace, and would not have very good rhythm when he first starts.

- He thinks it is a bit romantic to have music playing while enjoying eachothers company. So there will be soft piano playing in the background.

- He definitely uses magic, mage hand would come in handy, being able to bind your hands for a little rougher session.

- He does not own any toys, but would be okay with owning some if it helped you get off better. He would end up enjoying it immensely.

- Public sex is something that he could be talked into. As long as it is somewhere where less people are. But there is still the thrill of possibly being caught.

- He masterbates from time to time, it is not often. But if you are not around and he is fully alone then he would enjoy himself.

- His stamina is not very high, but he can fully please you and a little more if he is asked.

Lae’zel

-SFW-

- She would keep a collection of rusted or busted knives to fix while at camp. It helps her calm down plus it gives her something to look forward to.

- She would eat dinner at either 5 pm or 10 pm no in between.

- Talks to herself all the time. Saying she is the best therapist she knows.

- Her favorite color is Silver.

- She likes to read before she goes to bed.

- She also likes to sit on a high point at the camp to look at the stars.

- She would be an astrology girl. And would believe it completely.

-NSFW-

- She is the top.

- She is a biter, lightly gliding her teeth across your skin. She loves to feel you shiver from the touch she is giving you.

- She is not loud, and does not want you to be loud either.

- She would be 100% serious in bed. No laughing, no jokes.

- She has a moderate sex drive.

- She is a C cup.

- She would not fall asleep directly after having sex. She would wait until you fell asleep before she would sleep.

- She would have a small collection of toys that she would bring into your sex life.

- She has a lot of stamina, she would want to go more than one round if you are up for it.

Wyll

-SFW-

- He liked bugs when he was a kid.

- He really likes spicy food, and will go out with Karlach to find it.

- Has a very big sweet tooth, and loves to share it with everyone in camp. He has a whole pocket in his pack dedicated to sweets. Giving them away to children you may meet. It makes him feel extra happy if there is a group that he can give it to. But he has a special place for candy that you specifically like, which he gives to you when you feel down.

- He loves Halsin, and goes to him for advice about his father.

-NSFW-

- He loves sensual romantic sex.

- He could get off to kissing. You don’t even have to fully have sex to get him all riled up.

- Man is cheesy, he will set this up when you are living together. Setting out roses leading from the front door to your bedroom. When you walk into the bedroom it is enveloped in a warm soft glow of candlelight dancing over the horned man laying across your bed that is also covered in flower petals in the shape of a heart. “Welcome home my sweet.” He would say in a sultry voice, getting off the bed to meet you. Taking a rose off the table and handing it to you.

- He would be really good at praising you.

- “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

- He is not very experienced, but that is okay, he is very willing to learn.

- He likes things to be more serious in the bedroom, but a soft giggle or smile would not go missed.

- He would have a slow pace, he would want to take his time and enjoy every moment.

Shadowheart

-SFW-

- She loves yoga. And will do it every chance that she has downtime to do it. But it is mostly just her stretching.

- She would be a Hello kitty girl, and would own so many of the stuffed animals.

- She hates classical and post- disco music. But would love R&B and jazz music. Shadow heart in the garden with soft music playing in the background. She hums along while you are on the opposite side of the garden. This was an activity that you both loved to do. She would be dressed comfortably in a shin length skirt that was covered in loose soil. She turned the music on a little louder, swaying from side to side as you both worked together, sharing in kisses here and there. It was quite an eventful afternoon.

- she hates orange juice. Like genuinely hates it and will get upset if you give it to her.

- Likes a good cup of tea. With very little sugar. But if she were to have coffee she would want a lot of sugar but no cream.

- She wants a flower garden.

- She would end up being a plant girlie.

-NSFW-

-She is somewhat experienced. Having done it with a handful of people at most.

- She would get her nipples pierced. I think it would make her even more confident than she already is.

- She is very confident in bed, she is fully okay with taking charge or letting you take control.

- She would try almost anything once. Outside of things that would hurt her too bad.

- When you are in the comforts of your own home she is really into bondage. Being bound really excites her.

- She is serious while doing it, you can laugh during it. But she does want it to be a more serious moment shared between the two of you.

- She would prefer a faster pace, it would drive her wild.

-She is a B cup.

Karlach

-SFW-

- She gets very protective of scratch, he lays near her when going to sleep for a very long time.

- She loves going swimming since it cools her down. But will refuse anyone to go with her since the water around her would get way too hot. And possibly boil anyone going in there with her. But that is in fact how she has gotten you dinner before. When everyone was literally starving and going off wine and grape soup for the 4th day in a row. Karlach brings back fish. And sets them on the table. She announced that we will be having something different for dinner than the normal everyone was so excited that they forgot to ask. Later on that night she told everyone. And was met with a still silence. Before someone cleared their throat and everyone went right back to conversation.

- She would drink a lot of water to try and cool herself down.

- Her favorite color is Blue.

- She likes doing yoga to stay limber.

- She smells like Vanilla and Amber.

-NSFW-

- She is the top, no questions asked.

- She would have nipple piercings if she could. But her heat would have them melting to her skin. So she just settles for real and natural.

- She is not very experienced. Since she was always fighting for others she never got to find much pleasures of the flesh. But don’t worry she is a quick learner.

- She would definitely be goofy in bed, joking here and there. But does know when to be more serious.

- She would enjoy slow and steady pace, she would also enjoy taking her time. But also loves a brutal pace from time to time.

- She is a D cup

Minthara

-SFW-

- She would jump out and scare children if she could.

- I feel like she eats the crust first on pizza.

- Despises ranch.

- She ends up wearing glasses later in life.

- She would only eat while standing.

- She likes red wine, and will always ask if you would like to join her in a drink.

- She becomes softer and a bit nicer when you start to get close to her.

- She could fall asleep standing up. She is also a really light sleeper.

-NSFW-

- Scary in a hot way.

- She would be into knife play. Holding a knife to yours not the other way around.

- Top.

Her favorite part of her partner's body would be the neck. Thinking that it could be the quickest way to kill you in case you threaten her. But also that it is so sensitive and gives wonderful responses when kissed.

- Gives absolutely amazing head.

- She likes the predator prey dynamic, finding it quite thrilling to chase before taking what is hers.

- loves to see you in skirts (if you wear them) Or really tight fitting pants. And will tell you all about it in confidence later.

- She is quiet, she does not moan too much.

- She is very experienced, she has enjoyed many pleasures of the flesh. And is ready and willing to show you everything she has learned.

- She is very serious during the deed, there would be no laughing.

- Brutal pace or nothing. She wants to go hard and fast bringing herself and you to a high quickly before doing it again.

- She is a D cup.

Halsin

-SFW-

- He walks around barefoot. You question how his feet are still intact from all the rough places that you have traveled together.

- He literally sleeps on the ground for more than half of the time he is in your camp. I think he just didn’t know how to bring up that he didn’t have a bed roll and just waited till he could buy one. He will never tell you that though.

- He cannot handle spicy food in the slightest.

Likes plum juice, and would drink it all the time if he could.

- He has joint pain, so he sits on the ground to relieve a bit of the pain and stress off them. He will often ask if you would like to join him for a walk. When you say yes you both walk together for a few minutes before he sits on a rock in the woods. You sit down next to him and continue your conversation. For a long while. You knew why you had stopped, This had become a favorite spot to stop for him while you are in this area. Before he got up and continued walking. He would give you a soft warm smile as you walked holding hands.

- He will carve you small gifts and sneak them into your pack as long as you have the room.

- he would partake in the grass. But would be away from anyone else so they are not bothered by him.

- He likes fruit and vegetables over meat.

-NSFW-

- He is quite fluid, anything you want to do or try he would be down to do it.

- He loves when you kiss his neck, the tenderness will make him melt.

- His ideal place to do it is in a field of flowers, or a forest area where there is a soft patch of moss.

- He likes to bite, gently of course. But he gives soft nips and bites any part of their body. Loves leaving hickeys.

- We all know this man is experienced, he is ready and willing to give you all of that experience.

- He can be goofy during, he likes when things are lighthearted but sensual.

- Animalistic pace, or soft and sensual no inbetween.

- High sex drive.

- He only masterbates when he has not gotten action in a long time. But would find a very secluded area to do so.

- It takes him a long time before he falls asleep after. But when he does he sleeps like a rock.

- he thinks you being smaller than him is very hot. Definitely has a size kink.

A little extra…

Rolan

-SFW-

- He thinks it is funny when people try to cast magic and it fails.

- He ends up taking on an apprentice.

- When he has down time he would read all the books that were in the tower.

- When he would go back to his tower after the events of the game he would be sad seeing many of the books, but went in to look for survivors that may have been inside.

- He was a spoiled child, but he grew out of the spoiled attitude.

- He is only sweet in private.

- He would not be into PDA. But does kiss you when no one is looking.

- He wants to be able to teach people magic. But, would treat them all wonderfully. He would be a great teacher.

- He would smell like cedar and old books.

- When he blushes the blush spreads over his face and up to his ears.

-NSFW-

- His favorite part of his partner's body would be their hands.

- He thinks that it is so hot to cum on your face and chest. The thought alone would make him cream his pants.

- He is not experienced. He has not been able to experiment while on his travels.

- He is loud, his moans can be heard from a fair distance away.

- He loves to degrade.

- Power bottom on a good day. Bottom.

- He can get really shy when asking for alone time.

- He loves when you take charge and tell him what to do.

- He has moderate stamina. But will only want to go for one round.

- He will fall asleep soon after finishing the deed.

————————————————————————

I'm sorry for any of them being shorter than others. I have not been able to do all of their story lines yet. I am slowly working towards finishing them all. So if any of my head cannons are very off from the characters I am very sorry! Thank you!!

[thatfreshi]

Can you make an Angsty Astarion x mortal!reader fic where Astarion realizes that one day the reader will pass and he’ll be alone again🙏🙏🙏 I need more Angst of this man😭

TW - Talk of death, graveyards

Recommended Song: Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

Astarion often visits graveyards. It's some form of therapy, a place where he can let it all out, a place where he can mourn what he never had, what he doesn't remember. You don't usually go with him, deciding it's best to give him something just for him. Occasionally he'll ask you to come with him, if it's been a particularly rough time or if it's a special day. At the very least he goes once a month, and it's never a question of where he's going, you just know. You worry about him sometimes, being alone in some graveyard. You are all each other have, all you cherish, all you love. It's not often you're apart, but it's not all that difficult to stick to someone like sap when you can't be in the sun.

It's the anniversary of the death of some family member he doesn't remember, who died centuries ago, but some part of him feels as though he should at least go. Not like anyone else goes to see his family anymore. You're in the living room, setting up the fireplace for when you return. Astarion comes downstairs, and you hear his shoes tap each step. You turn to find him in all black, you are as well.

"Are you ready to go?"

You ask, grabbing your trusty knife off the table by the front door, sheathing it under your jacket. It's been quite cold as of recent.

"Mhm."

He doesn't say much. He doesn't have to say much.

"Then let's go."

You smile warmly and wrap yourself around his arm. The graveyard you're visiting isn't too far from the house. It's where most of the Ancuníns were laid to rest, including Astarion's 'grave.' When you arrive, he knows right where to go, and you simply follow along. A while back he memorized all of these people, their death dates, who they were, trying to remember anything he could from a life he lost long ago. The two of you sit in front of an ornate grave, a second cousin of his, or something of the like. You feel guilty that you don't remember like he does.

"I appreciate you."

He'd been silent the entire walk here.

"You always come with me when I ask. I know it may not make sense, I just feel as though it's right, to at least try."

"Of course my love. Whatever you need."

You rest your head on his shoulder and read the inscription on the tombstone. Apparently this man got a terrible illness, died sometime in his 20s, extremely young for an elf. You wonder how much Astarion remembers, if he knew this man at all. You never pry though. He always shares when he's ready. Suddenly, he squeezes your hand.

"I'll miss you. I don't miss these people, but I'll miss you."

"That's hardly a fair comparison. You barely remember them."

"I'll remember you forever. Even if I were enslaved for two hundred more years after this, I couldn't ever forget you."

He kisses the top of your head, lingering for a moment to take in your scent, the feeling of your hair, every little thing he'll remember when you're gone.

"The truth is darling, I don't think I'll ever love again, once you're gone."

He begins to cry. You hadn't thought about him with future lovers, lying with another soul.

"That's not fair though."

"What makes you say that?"

"You deserve to love after me. You deserve to be loved after me."

He sadly chuckles to himself.

"As if anyone could ever compare. You're the sun, and I the moon. Without you, no light would ever reflect off me again. A dark husk of a man, that's what I will be when you're gone."

He sounds so sure of himself, as if beyond you there is nothing. Then again, you've made this entire life together. Who else would fall in love with a vampire spawn with no master, a monster who's never going to be quite right? You're not sure what to say.

"To be honest, I don't think I could fall in love with someone else, even if I tried my damnest. You've made me feel safe in a way that is so foreign, fabricated just for me. You can't replicate that. You can't find someone so willing to be this patient, this kind, to not only love me for my body."

"You have so much more to love though."

"I don't think anyone would see it the way you do my sweet."

You shift to turn and look at Astarion, taking his hands in yours.

"You know what I love most about you?"

He softly smiles.

"What?"

"That you can change. It's something many people forget to do, to change and evolve, to find more in life than their misery. You've changed, for the better. Very few can do that the way you have."

"It's you who changed me."

Sometimes it frustrates you, how little credit he gives himself. Then again, it's much better than it used to be.

"Just promise me something? Once I'm gone, find another way to be happy. Find something that makes your heart flutter, that causes those precious creases when you smile. Find something else, if not for yourself, for me."

He nestles into your neck, giving you a soft kiss.

"I promise to try my love, that's all I can do."

His eyes are still misty, the tears get onto your neck. You try hard not to cry yourself, but it's hard when your heart is breaking outside of your body. You pray in that moment, although you're not sure to what god or power, but you pray that he'll be okay when you die, that it's a long time away from someone driving a stake through his ribs, that he finds joy in the small things like he does now. After all, hope is all you have when the afterlife comes to get you so soon.

"I hope I get to watch over you, wherever I end up."

"Like some kind of angel or something?"

"I guess. Like your guardian."

"Do you think I'll know?"

"Yes, I think you'll know. Maybe I'll take on the body of stray cats, follow you on the streets, lead you down paths with less heartache."

"I'd like that, very much."

~~~

Decades later, Astarion gets ready to leave the house, your knife on the table. When he steps out onto the cobblestone streets, there's a pure white cat standing a couple feet away. It meows, almost melodically, and turns to a nearby alleyway. He walks to where the animal was standing, and turns to look into the alleyway, but there is no sight of the stray. He smiles.

"Thank you, my love."

[foolish-spectre]

The Price of Freedom

Pairing: Astarion x Gender-Neutral Tav/Reader (Primary Focus is on Astarion)

Content Warnings: Murder and Canon-Typical Violence, Allusions to Physical, Emotional, and Verbal Abuse, Mental Breakdowns, Gore?, Massive Spoilers for the Pale Elf Quest in Baldur’s Gate 3, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 835

Characters: Astarion Ancunin (primarily), Cazador Szarr, Tav/Reader, brief mention of Astarion’s siblings

A/N: So I wrote this on a 14 hour plane ride, basically I wrote this in the last hour since my brain was mush for the other 13, I wanted to explore his side of things hence why it’s in second person, and I’m going to give a hot take, I’m glad you can’t hug Astarion after he kills Cazador, not because he doesn’t deserve it of course not, but because I don’t think he would like to be touched after such a painful but cathartic moment, he hates being touched, especially in a moment like this, there’s a time and a place for hugging in Astarion’s mind and in my opinion, this scene ain’t it, KEEP IN MIND I ALSO WANTED TO HUG ASTARION AFTER THIS SCENE SO I DONT BLAME ANYONE, but personally Astarion doesn’t want to be hugged rn, another thing I noticed is how Astarion is always drawn to your hands, it’s always the hands, I want to explore more of that in a separate fic or headcanons but yeah

Your grip upon your master’s knife tightened as you stared down at your “Father.” He likened his sired spawn to be family, and you were ready to give him all his owed dues as the eldest child.

It was funny to see him on his knees after so many years of shoving you beneath his feet. A wicked grin slithered onto your face as you yanked his long black hair aside to bare his neck.

The knife felt so light in your hand, how strange. One last thrust and it would be all over. One last thrust with the same knife that your pathetic master carved that damn infernal script into your back. It tethered your fate to him and now it would finally set you free. He would never hurt you again.

The first plunge felt cathartic yet it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. You started with his neck since it was his bite that doomed you. Then you thrust the blade repeatedly into his heart and ribs, he oh so loved to play with yours and even threatened to rip your’s out so you could see how pathetic it was. Just the thought of it made you dig deeper into his rib cage.

After the frenzied attack upon your master’s chest, you thrust the dagger upwards into his stomach. He was never satisfied with your hunts, always demanding more and more. Even wanting to consume you, practically making you believe that’s all you were. But you weren’t, you would never be-!

Just as you were about to violently flip him over and plunge into his back, you finally looked at his face. The sadistic smirk was wiped off replaced only with fear and disbelief, his sickening voice silenced, his eyes devoid of disgust… you were left with nothing.

Cazador Szarr was dead.

As the adrenaline wore off and you realized that your tormentor was finally dead, you slumped to your knees, dagger falling from your grip.

He was finally gone. He would never be able to hurt you again. And yet…

Why do the scars on your back feel fresh? Why did fear seep into your very bones? Why did you feel so miserable-

As sobs wracked your tired body, your siblings and friends surrounded you, unsure of what to do. Your lover approached you cautiously, not because they were afraid of you but because-

You didn’t really know and even though you’ve spent months together, you were still trying to get a hang of things.

They held out your arms to embrace you and in return you gave them a flinch. You hated the look they had on their face when you did, but… it feels so tainted, so fresh, so…

You hated it, you needed to get out of here, you needed to be in the sun again, you needed… you needed to feel alive again.

You stared down at your master’s corpse and held his staff for the first and last time. The rest was a blur.

Right now you were finally exiting this damn house, you would never have to see it again. You would finally be free, from this prison, from the people who tormented you, and from the crypt that reduced you to nothing but a feral animal.

As your weary feet got closer to closer to the entrance of Cazador’s palace, a part of you wanted to look back. To look back at your master’s dead body to make sure he was dead, gone for good.

… Why did you still think of him as your master, even when he’s gone? He was your master no longer, he would never have to control you again. You’re free of him.

Cazador means nothing to you now and you’ll make sure of that.

As you tried to shake your mind off of this, you walked side by side with your companions and lover. You stared at their face, even now they looked so beautiful.

Sure you didn’t care for them at first, but they were still with you… after all this. It would’ve been so easy to leave him behind for Cazador to consume him but they didn’t. They stayed and fought tooth and nail to save you, to help you achieve freedom.

You didn’t realize that you reached out for their hand until they looked at you, surprised. You were about to pull away until they gave you a gentle squeeze back.

Even though you were empty, even though you felt like the world had ended after all this… it felt reassuring. In a sense, your whole world did end. All those centuries of torment and the master that owned you was finally put to rest. All of it was in the past. Your lover’s hand reminded you that you did the right thing. That… you weren’t tied down to Cazador anymore.

You were finally free. And you didn’t want to lose this, you wouldn’t trade power for the one person who truly cared about you.

[bg-brainrot]

Time to write something for the BG3 Holiday Fluffle! I wanted to do it for days, but finally got around to it-- fluff!

Prompt: Twinkling Lights

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife

Premise: Astarion and Rogue!Tav are more used to snuffing lights out, not putting up lights, but after a visit from one of their former companions, they realize that maybe, just for the season, they can make an exception.

Tags: Fluff, heights?, Established Relationship, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, decorating

Word count: ~800

“Come on, Astarion,” you say, pushing your lover to the front of your house. “It won’t take longer than an hour.”

“That’s an hour we could better spend doing literally anything else,” he responds in a whine, all but digging his heels into the ground.

You can see the hardline of his shoulders as he resists, the open distaste on his face, but you don’t relent. “Gale said our house looked depressing. We don’t want our house to look depressing. Or to be made fun of by Gale!”

It was a winter tradition, to decorate your abode in bright lights and garish colors– something about warding against ice elementals in the chillier months. Likely some old wive’s tale, but you don’t care. You refuse to let Gale criticize your as-of-yet undecorated house.

“But it’s chilly outside,” he says with an exaggerated pout on his face. “Surely you wouldn’t make your sad, cold lover endure the snow?”

“It’s not snowing, Astarion,” you say, gesturing through your door to the clear night sky in front of you.

The vampire gives a click of his tongue, and finally begins to walk forward. “Ugh, fine, but I expect you to warm me up once we’re done.”

“It would be my pleasure,” you reply, as you follow him out the door. “Now grab on to the other end of this string of faerie lights that Gale gave me.”

Astarion dutifully takes the opposite end as you begin to climb the face of your house. “Darling, what in the sweet hells are you doing?” he asks, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

“Putting up these lights, what else would I be doing?” you respond, from halfway up the house.

He gives you a smile, a forced one that shows the tips of his fangs. “Yes, I see that. But don’t you want to use a ladder or perhaps a scroll?”

You pause your climbing for a moment. “Huh, that would have been a good idea. I’m already here though. Don’t worry, love! I’m a professional.”

Astarion remains silent for a moment, and you can practically hear the thoughts coursing through his head. I love an idiot. What am I supposed to do with this idiot? Why are these silly little lights worth any of this effort? This is all Gale’s fault.

All the while, you string up the lights with the help from your belt of thieves' tools. You begin humming a holiday song once you find a steady balance.

You enter such a lull that when Astarion next speaks, you almost fall off in surprise. “I think I can catch you.”

“What?” you ask, certain you’ve misheard what your lover said.

“If you fall,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “In fact, I know I can catch you.”

You’re not sure if it’s the cold air or the unwarranted confidence in Astarion’s voice, but you feel a chill run down your spine. “No thank you, dear. We might both perish.”

He scoffs, placing his hands on his hips, ready to argue his point. The sudden movement accidentally jerks the string of lights out of your hand, throwing you off-balance. Your foot slips and your arms frantically spin as you to try to right yourself.

“I’ve got you!” you hear below you, before you begin to plummet.

The hard crash you were expecting never came, and you find yourself floating gently down to the ground, landing squarely in Astarion’s waiting arms.

You look at him, quizzically. “How did you–”

He laughs at your confusion, before placing you gently on the ground. “I stole Gale’s boots.” As if to prove his point, he shows a foot off to you. You recognize the boots as Mystra's Grace, remembering that they grant Featherfall to their user. “I mostly did it because Gale annoyed me, who knew they would come in handy!”

“Oh,” you breathe out, heart still pounding in your ears. “Good foresight, dear.”

The grin he gives you is wicked as he responds, “Clearly a sign from the gods to steal from Gale more often.”

You give him a lighthearted smack on the arm before you turn back to the house, lights half-hung, haphazardly strewn across your roof. “What do you think?” you ask him, a grimace on your face.

“I like it. Very… artistic,” he turns toward it, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you in to admire your ‘handiwork’ with him. A moment passes of simply staring into the loud, vibrant lights before he continues, “You know I’m more used to a life in the shadows, but I suppose this is nice too.”

You lean into his embrace, tilting your head toward him as you respond, “Isn’t it? Though, I do think I still prefer the shadows.”

“Mm, why is that?” Astarion asks, humming into your hair.

“It’s far less embarrassing when I slip,” you mutter as you bury your heated face into his shoulder.

[bhaal-baby]

Just a bit of Astarionx GN! Dark Urge angst. Hope you enjoy!

Sleep refused to take you. 

You tossed, and you turned, counting backward from one hundred and back again, and still, you lay there, staring at an endless sky, exhausted and frustrated. You blamed the rock you’d accidentally placed your bedroll on for the night, or the slight chill in the air that caused your sore muscles to groan in protest, or Gale’s incessant snoring that you were going to have words about in the morning. But you knew in your heart that none of those things had anything to do with it. 

It probably had more to do with the fact that only a few nights ago, you nearly murdered the man you love. 

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw yourself waking up covered in blood and viscera. Dazed, confused, and most disturbingly, satisfied, the same way it had been with that poor bard back in the grove. Only this time, the blood on your hands would be even more precious. You imagined white hair, stained red, and a bloodied pale face, lifeless and still. You imagined the bravado with which he carried himself would fade away in death, his meticulously kept walls crumbling as your blade ripped through him. Would he look at you in hatred in those last moments, or would those crimson eyes be filled with only terror? 

He is so, so afraid. Of everyone, besides you, who he ought to fear most. 

You shuddered violently, blinking away the terrible thoughts that plagued you. Sighing, you stood up. If sleep wasn’t an option, you may as well take a walk to try and clear your head, and patrol the perimeter of your campsite, ensuring the safety of your traveling companions that had become so much like family. It was ironic, you thought, given that you were probably the biggest threat to their well-being as they slept peacefully by your side. You wondered not for the first time if it was selfishness that kept you traveling with them. Your companions were strong enough to stop the Absolute on their own. You knew that. They would all be safer without one who kills in their sleep and battles the dark thoughts that you do. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Astarion stood just a few feet behind you. One of these days, you swore you were going to put a bell around his neck. He was far too good at sneaking up on you. 

“I thought you were asleep.” replied nonchalantly. 

 “An attempt was made, but truthfully, I’m still getting used to sleeping at night.” He shrugged. “When I saw you sneaking out of bed, I thought I’d tag along and make sure you weren’t off to sate some of your more bloodthirsty desires.” 

His words sent your heart into your stomach. He must have noticed your gaze fall to the ground because he added. “Really, as long as your knife isn’t to my throat, I’m not too concerned.” 

You knew that was meant to soften the blow that he never meant to land. Still, it hurt to be reminded of what he thought you were capable of. Not that he was wrong. You couldn’t explain your murderous nights any better than he could, but a part of you wished he never had to see you like that, let alone nearly becoming one of your victims. He had been so kind to you the other night, even as you writhed against his bonds, desperate to make minced meat of his pretty face. He had told you then that he didn’t hate you for what you’d done, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he saw you differently because of it. 

You decided to change the subject. “I’m going for a quick walk. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” 

“Ah yes, a quick nighttime jaunt through shadow-cursed lands. Splendid idea. Do you think some of those wretched shadows will invite us to tea?” 

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. “We won’t stray far from camp.” You sighed. “I just need to clear my head.” 

Something that looked like concern flashed across his features. “Of course, I’ll join you. Maybe we’ll even sneak in a cuddle afterward.” 

His flirting rarely phased you anymore, though you were often unsure of his sincerity, even after the nights you’d spent together. You could tell that, to some extent, it was simply something he hid behind. He must have found it easier to be the charming man who could lure anyone with eyes into his bed than what he really was. You saw the hurt and the fear behind it all, even if he didn’t want you to. And after the other night, you knew with certainty that he was capable of so much kindness. Not many people would do what he did for you the night your urges almost took his life. 

He walked beside you silently for a while. You weren’t sure what to say to the man when thoughts of accidentally butchering him kept you awake. You plopped down on a fallen tree, motioning for him to join you. You could still see the faint glow of the dwindling campfire a ways away, but walking was doing nothing for your nerves. 

It was nice just sitting with him for a moment. Without words, without touch. Just being in his company lit something inside of you. He tilted his head towards the starless sky and you took the opportunity to look him over. He was beautiful, that was certain. In the moonlight, he looked like a statue, something carved by the most skilled hand.

“Something is on your mind,” Astarion observed, catching you staring.

You scoffed. “You mean besides our impossible task of saving the entire sword coast from the Dead Three? Or the tadpole burrowed in my brain waiting for an opportunity to turn me into a mindflayer?” 

Astarion leveled you with a knowing look. “Yes, besides the obvious. Now tell me what it is you’re stewing over in that pretty head of yours.” 

You didn’t know how to answer him, but he deserved something from you. “I just wanted to thank you. For the other night.” You stared at your boots, sighing deeply. You could feel your cheeks warming. The words didn’t do it justice, but you didn’t know how else to show him what his actions meant to you. 

He looked taken aback for a moment. “Oh. You needn’t thank me for that. It’s not as if I wanted to meet my grisly end at your hand anyway.” 

You caught his gaze, fighting the hurt that threatened to well up inside you. “But it was more than that.” You protested. “When you had me tied up, you could have killed me. You probably should have. You would all be safer that way.” 

Astarion’s easy expression morphed into one of shock. “I wouldn’t – I couldn’t.” He stumbled over his words, for once seeming unsure of how to react. He took a deep breath. “I meant what I said, you know. We’ll find a way to save you.” 

Your heart clenched at the look on his face. It was softer than usual, almost vulnerable. You fought the tears welling in your eyes. “But at what cost?” It was almost a whisper. “How many innocent lives will I take before then? What if I hurt you?” 

Astarion took your hand in his, and lifted it to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on the top of it. “I won’t let that happen.” 

The gesture sent a pang through you and the tears began to fall but he continued. “You are the first person I’ve ever truly cared for and I am not going to let this take you from me.” 

The sincerity of his words struck you. He meant that. He cared about you. Maybe as much as you cared about him. Maybe more, because if you truly cared about him that much you’d go far, far away so he could be safe. “Astarion, none of that will matter if I kill you. You can care all you want until my blade finds its way into your throat and then that’s it.” The words came out harsher than you wanted but you knew you were right. He wasn’t safe with you. 

“I am not afraid of you.” he said, reassuringly squeezing your hand. 

You jerked your hand away suddenly. You didn’t miss the way he flinched as you did so. The man had been through too much to die by the hand of the one he cares about most. “You should be.” 

 You stood up, turning to leave, when his hand shot out to grab your arm. You tried to shrug it off but he held tight. “You don’t get to decide that for me.” he hissed. His voice was harsh and almost angry but when you turned to look at him you could see the hurt in his eyes. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine. But don’t you dare pretend that walking away from this is somehow for my benefit. I may not be entirely free yet, but for the first time in centuries I can make my own choices, and I’ll be damned if you take that away from me.”

You opened your mouth, stunned by the desperation on his face. You couldn’t find the words to say. You’d only wanted to protect him but instead, you’d hurt him by being self-righteous and overbearing. You had no right to tell this man, who’d known only slavery for centuries, what to do. “I– I’m sorry.” you choked out, taking a step towards him. “I didn’t mean to…” You trailed off, unsure what to say. 

Astarion’s face softened, tugging you nearer to him. “Please,” he breathed, placing a hand under your chin and lifting your gaze to meet his. “Let me stand by you through this. We don’t even know if we’ll live through tomorrow with how things have been going. I don’t know what this is, or how it will end, but I know that I want to try.” 

You could only nod, else the sob that had been building escape your throat. 

Astarion looked at you and smiled, that charming smile that you were helpless to before leaning down and kissing you softly. It wasn’t like the other times you’d kissed, lustful and frantic, tasting your own blood in his mouth. It was gentle and lingering and spoke of a longing neither of you had the words for. 

When his lips left yours, he pulled you into his chest, wrapping both arms around you tightly. “Now, how about that cuddle?” 

Thank you for reading! Do let me know if you prefer this Y/N style fic or if a third person gender neutral "Tav" would be better! I was really torn on which way to write this.

[actuallyevilgay]

The Apathy (Part 5)

Astarion x Male Reader/Tav

DNI if you are a minor. Dead dove don’t eat. Please read my about before replying. Content: Ascended Astarion x Male tav, this is post epilogue.

Summary: Astarion is scheming a plot to get the guards off Tav's back. Tav is dealing with weird feelings at the tavern. Reminders: Astarion is the vampire ascendant, Tav is not a heroic figure. Contains headcanons for several characters, contains headcanons for illithid brain alteration but not evolving. Tav uses daggers and magic. Astarion is an Arcane Trickster Rogue. I created several npcs. Some Neverwinter lore is mentioned but might not be lore friendly. Content Warnings: Tav suffering from depression / ptsd, self-neglect. A/N: Heyy I post to ao3 now too! it is under username actualevil. It's been a while but I found some energy to work on it c: There's a lot- hope you enjoy!

.......

‘’Please.. I’ve told you everything already- I confessed! Why are you doing this?’’

‘’Confessed? You committed worse than a crime. You put your hands on him.’’

The once so proud and corrupted guardsman was reduced to a shaking mess, tied to a chair. The bruises on his body left him marked and mostly discoloured, you’d think he was a blueberry, if it weren’t for the fact that he had been turned into a spawn. Undead. Pale.

‘’Tell me, pig. What makes you think you’re- Oh, so charming? What gave you the impression you had the authority to do whatever you wanted to whomever you wanted?’’ Astarion hovered above him, boot resting on his victim’s knee.

‘’I…’’  Almost in a shameful tone, the guardsman is compelled to speak his truth. ‘’I thought myself irresistible, for my age.. My hair and beard alone being my proudest features-’’

Before he could continue on about how infatuated he was with his own face and body, Astarion laughed to himself, as if he had been told the most ridiculous joke in history.

‘’Your hair?’’ It took a moment for him to come down from his laughter. ‘’Well, if I had to pick something.. Hmm.’’ His thoughts trailed off, kicking the kneecap of the man, causing him to fall on his back in the hair. ‘’What a waste.’’ Astarion mumbled to himself. ‘’Time should be spent pondering about more important things, but if you’re that attached to it, I suppose… Vand could shave it all off.’’ 

While he rambled, he spinned Tav’s curved blade in his hand.  ‘’Eyebrows included.’’ He eyed the guardsman, not able to see his expression from this position.

Astarion walked back so he could lift up the chair, bringing his face close to the guardsman. He drinked in the fear on the man’s face, and his smirk grew. ‘’How- How would one ever grow tired of expressions like these?’’ He let out a joyful sigh as he dropped him to the floor again.

‘’Perhaps my old, old, buried.. Dead and gone- Master, understood one thing at least.’’ As it rolled out of his mouth, a wash of disgust flew over him. ‘’But no, I am not that plain. There are other uses for you.’’ He turned around to watch Vandelion lift the man up in his chair again, holding a shaving knife. ‘’I could beat you up some more as satisfying as that is, but I’d rather see you put to death by the person you wronged.’’ He pointed the curved dagger towards the man’s neck. ‘’Luckily for you, I can just compel you to take the stage yourself, seeing as you’re a pretty good actor already.. But what if..’’

He paused, pacing around while unsheathing Orin’s other weapon from his side, a short sword. ‘’Poor, poor, old guardsman- Corrupted, greedy. Shameful. He tried to commit one of the worst crimes imaginable on an innocent, then frame the victim as an attempted murderer.. How unfortunate for him, that the victim’s friends came to his hospital bed and killed him- Oh! But it doesn’t end there..’’ He twists the blade in his hand. ‘’The man woke up from his grave, undead. He wants revenge..’’ Astarion crosses the dagger and blade together, pausing a moment.

‘’And when he tries to exact his revenge, out in the open, in public.. His guilt compels him to save his soul- to confess to all his sins in public view..’’ He lifts the blades up, pointing them to the ceiling. ‘’Theatrical, but who will give the finishing blow..? Your victim? The public? Or yourself..’’ He turns his head to Tyselius entering the room, who had been too captured by his master’s performance to speak up.

Astarion sheathes the short sword before putting the dagger away as well. ‘’Hmm.’’ He paces around, wanting to finish his monologue dramatically.

‘’Such a hard choice, I’d rather leave it up to the future audience.’’ He waves his hand, gesturing to Vandelion that he was finished speaking and could now shave the man’s head.

Tyselius makes a bow, before revealing his find. ‘’I’ve searched over the area, the inn’s keeper described Tav’s appearance as a dishevelled young beggar.. The trail went cold, but then I found boots with the same scent as the dagger tossed away in some fishmonger shed.’’ He revealed the scraps that remained of Tav’s old boots. Astarion was nearly overcome with emotion at the sight, reaching out before backtracking his hand. They were dirty and covered in mold at this point. ‘’That can’t be good..’’ He muttered.

 ‘’I’ve followed the trail further, but it grows cold every time in the same area. A fountain in the middle of one of the city’s business squares. It’s a very busy area.’’ Ty put the boots down, the smell was getting to him. ‘’..Should I toss them?’’

‘’No.. I need..’’ Astarion paused. ‘’Just put them in the corner for now, just in case.’’

Ty winched as he grabbed the boots again, slowly walking over to a corner while Astarion collected his thoughts. He looked back to the dagger. ‘’Soon, I’ll be reunited with my other, just like these two blades..’’ The spark in his eyes returned, glowing with obsession. ‘’Forgive me, my love..’’

The guardsman listened in still, even in his miserable position he dared to plot ahead, taking in account all the information provided here. He wouldn’t be able to withstand the commands of his new master, but perhaps the situation could still be set in his favour.. He just had to be smart. For now, he would sob and cry as Vandellion shaved him, sniffling pathetically.

‘’My living yet undead lungs are in need of fresh air.’’ Astarion spoke again after a long silence. ‘’To plot ahead, get all the right pieces in place.. I need to locate Tav.’’ His scheming mind snickered at the play he had begun to orchestrate.

With a deep inhale, the elf focussed his collective memory, recalling the distinct scent of Tav’s blood. If Tyselius could not find the rest of the trail with just the smell of moldy boots, then it was up to Astarion himself.

He didn’t plan on meeting Tav directly however. That reunion had to wait, he didn’t know what state Tav was in.. And so, the vampire ascendant disguised himself again, this time taking the guise of a young handsome tiefling with curly black locks as he climbed the stairs to the main floor. He could hear the corrupt guardsman whine while closing the cellar door behind him.

Operating in Neverwinter had some pros and cons, while he couldn’t bestow his protection over the city the same way he could in baldur’s gate, his spawn did not have to worry.

Keeping a low profile and sticking to the shadows was a skill Astarion was all too familiar with. His bodyguards and assassins were essentially trained with those skills in mind.

Vandelion and Tyselius could operate just fine without their sunwalking regent during the day.. Something tells him they’re positively enjoying the work he left them behind with.

For now, he strolled in his disguise, tracing back the trail Tyselius spoke of. From the fishery to the town square with the fountain.

There were several town squares with fountains in neverwinter, but he went directly to the most populated one. From there, he took a minute to observe his disguise in the reflection of the ice water. 

It wasn’t that long ago that running water once burned through his body like acid, and now a wading river was merely pleasantry on hot summer days. It being winter, it could look strange to the average pedestrian to dip your fingers in ice cold water absentmindedly.

Sniff. Astarion takes a deep breath. Ah! There it is- The trail Ty spoke of. It was faint, a couple of weeks old. But the distinct flavour of Tav’s sweat filled Astarion’s head with memories, it was overwhelming. The emotions nearly punched him out of his disguise spell. No! Hold.. Think..

Adrenaline, and.. Other hormones coated the smell. Fear.

Tav’s sweat had been coated in fear when he walked here.. Or ran? Astarion paced around a bit and sat down on the fountain’s bench, observing the snowflakes that fell from the sky.

He closed his eyes to observe the trail in his inner vision, seeing the faint silhouette of Tav change colour in the back of his mind. 

The colour changed a few more times, only to come back to a dull, blueish grey, a stillness you would only be able to observe during the hours of dusk in the evening. 

Once the blueish grey became so still that it was nearly invisible, would another silhouette appear.. That of someone the size of a gnome.. Or halfling. Dwarf? No, there was a distinct earthy but flowery smell, it had to be a halfling.

The silhouette touches Tav’s dull grey colour, and his silhouette stills even more, shrinking.

Any emotion or hormonal response that lingered in the trail of his sweat faded the second the halfling touched his hand..

Astarion tried to focus on the smell of this person, only to see it walking off with their tiny arm stretched outwards, pulling whatever invisible glimmer of Tav’s silhouette remained towards a different direction.

When his eyes opened again, he had returned to the busy festive view of Neverwinter. People flocked around, loud sounds.. Children screaming and playing. Parents yelling, and merchants trying to keep up with growing lines of impatient customers.

Amongst the chaos, of course- even a Professional as Ty would potentially lose track of the subject he had to trace.. But Astarion was from a different Caliber, a Vampire lord, nay! The vampire ascendant. His senses were superior, above any spawn and meagre vampire lord.

Now.. Back to the hunt.

…….

Everything was going well, the bedrest certainly did you good. Jilvy’s clientele, however.. Had grown a lot over the weekend. And so, rush hour became a consistent thing.

With the expanding horizons of your patron’s business, came more chattier customers. Your short-witted and quiet responses for some reason gained you some popularity.

While the storm calmed, Jilvy had run out of wares due to some shortage of ingredients, thus leaving you to man the business on your own for a couple of hours while she went out to get fresh supplies.

Rush hour came and went, with a lack of cookies and snacks to sell, most folks lost quick interest beyond the occasional tea-crazy regulars. The quiet made you realise how much tension had built in your lower back so you took the moment to stretch.

‘’He’s so handsome.’’ The muttering came from a group of ladies settled in a corner right across the bar. With their eyes digging in your back you could swear you pulled a muscle and winched. ‘’Oof.’’ That little awkward display earned you a few giggles, making you feel nervous.

You weren’t sure how to respond to all the flirting that took place, shrugging it off and trying to stay professional.. It made you wonder if Jilvy’s intentions for hiring you were less and less motherly, and more business oriented. She definitely was thriving off how useful you made yourself.. But she mothered you too, pushing you back to take more than enough breaks when your body wore you down.

‘’It’s getting late.’’ You mumbled to yourself, checking back on the dishes that had piled up. Another couple of rubs and they were dry and ready to be used again.

The bell of the tavern door rang everytime someone left and entered the building, making you perk up instinctively.

‘’Certainly not late enough for another cup of tea?’’ A handsome, human man around your physical age had approached the bar. ‘’I swear, this has got to be the cutest tavern I’ve ever seen. I’m parched for a hot drink.’’

His blue eyes made you stall, unsure whether he was flirting or just looking for conversation.

A weird, flowery feeling came over your gut. ‘’Oh, right, what’s your poison? I mean- It’s not alcoholic- Or poisonous.. Uhm..’’ You stuttered over your words, earning more giggles from the ladies in the corner.

‘’Surprise me.’’ He didn’t take too long while looking at the menu. 

‘’Uh..’’ It gave you pause.

‘’I’m-’’ You wanted to tell him this wasn’t your brightest skill. ‘’I mean, Are you-’’ You paused again. ‘’Sir, you could be allergic to mint.. I’m sorry-’’ All the while his big beautiful eyes looked at you. Why were you being weird?!

‘’Oh! How considerate..’’ Your flustered attitude seemed to have an effect on him, his sudden confidence withdrawing. He looked over the menu, blushing. ‘’Winterberry special.. Now that sounds immaculate.’’ 

It didn’t take you long to fulfil the order and pour his drink, popping in the corresponding bag of leaves and herbs in the hot water.

He paid for his drink and sat at the bar, quietly flicking a spoon with honey through his drink while your eyes drifted with the motion. 

You shook your head, unable to discern the meaning behind your emotions. Anxiety? Yes, certainly.. But beyond that empty overwhelming and loud noise that thrummed in the back of your head, was a warmth.

This man was attractive, very attractive, and it was having an effect on you. The feeling seemed to be somewhat mutual. He avoided your gaze notably.

You clutch the fabric on your chest as you turn around to sort your freshly cleaned cutlery.

Whatever this feeling is, it’s kind of nice.

The warmth unfortunately dissipated soon after, like a weight came back to shove it down your guts. And then, nothing. A quiet.

Only for the quiet to be distilled in a throb as you turned your head back to glance at the human while he took a sip. He nearly choked when your eyes met.

Your own identity had been a mystery for some time, but this was somewhat familiar. Attraction. You liked men, and you liked men liking you back. A piece of who you were had been returned to you, giving back an influx of emotions you didn’t know you were capable of.

It made you fidget with your apron, quietly counting the minutes it took for him to finish his drink and eventually leave.

The sensation dropped again, a certain gloominess overcame you when he said his friendly goodbyes and left, the door’s bell echoed through your skill.

There was a unanimous disappointed ‘’D’aww.’’ From the group of ladies who had watched and observed the entire spectacle, all the while quietly finishing their drinks.

Given the hour and decrease of customers, it was probably a good idea to start wrapping up for the day. Jilvy seemed to be taking her sweet time.. You weren’t too worried about her, she probably got caught up in a conversation and was networking on the streets.

The last of the regular customers left, loudly giving their goodbyes and complimenting you on your work ethic. Now the tavern was empty, only with the memory of the doorbell ringing in the back of your head.

There was a long silence before you could feel something shift around the place, only to sit itself in front of you.

A flash of bright orange hair dye reminded you of the first time you met the holiday regular Gale. He wasn’t around today, but this person.. This was Dharma.

‘’Oh, I didn’t hear you, I was preparing to close.. I’m unfortunately still out of snacks, but there’s enough hot water left for a single cup of tea.’’ Your words came out almost robotic, rehearsed. Fast, stumbling.

Dharma didn’t respond, she placed her elbows on the bar and rested her head on the palms of her hands.

‘’Okay..’’ You looked dazed, a little confused. Usually people wouldn’t shut up after your first sentence. The quiet stare continued, leaving you to look at the door and ponder how Jilvy could take so long.

‘’I’ve been observing you.’’ Dharma confidently spoke, her tone was formal, almost like an authority figure.. Unlike the crazy, nervous tone she had around Gale when she followed him into the tavern that first evening. ‘’You seem to be a strapping young man, and.. If I’m correct, a bachelor?’’ She leaned in a little further as she said this.

‘’Do you have a girlfriend?’’ Her eyes sparked with something strange, but it didn’t take a hold of you, she blinked in confusion.

You could feel a strange energy thrum in the back of your head again, giving you a flashback towards that hellish moment with the guardsman..

Yes.. You stabbed him.. Felt his blood pour over you, a sick sense of satisfaction alongside it. But there was also terror, the need to run away from the violence. With that well of power sparked an explosion, shooting you out of the inn and into the water.

The flashback ended, and you could see Dharma’s eyes stare right through you intensely. ‘’What?’’ Your response was a near whisper.

‘’Do you have a girlfriend?’’ Dharma repeated, staring you down almost predatory.

You wanted to say no, but her advances were putting you on edge.

Without much further thought behind it, remembering the strange breeze you’ve been feeling during the night.. The sound of rats running around in the wardrobe near your bed, and the storage cupboard in the hallway.. No rat is human-sized. And there was no door bell to alert you of Dharma’s entry into the building just now.. Perhaps that would explain how Jilvy ran out of food so fast?

‘’I- I have a boyfriend.’’ In the back of your head, your mind recalled the brief encounter you had with the beautiful man earlier. Hoping that if she did indeed sneak around here, she might have observed your awkwardness earlier.

But.. That didn’t seem to change her mind. ‘’It’s Gale, isn’t it? He’s here.. To sneak around and.. Cheat on me.’’

‘’What?’’ You worded in disbelief. No, she didn’t come here to stalk you.. Of course not. This weirdo was convinced the wizard was here for you! But why? You never even talked to him. And- Cheat? Oh gods.. This woman is nuts.

‘’My charm spell didn’t work on you, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll remove you, and he’ll return to Waterdeep. Sit tight, it won’t take long!’’ While she spoke the words in a cheerful tone, and moved her hands to cast a spell, the thrumming energy that was building up earlier burst out of you, causing you to dash forward with psionic energy and swing right out of the door.

‘’I’m going to find my boyfriend- Bye!’’ Is all you could utter, hoping it would keep her from chasing you down in public.. 

Certainly the guard would not take kindly to an attempted public murder attempt, only for you to quickly remember that you have done the same yourself not too long ago.

Shit.

Without a weapon to defend yourself, all you could rely on were these strange bursts of power, bursts that gave you horrible headaches and made you lose sight of where you were walking..

You took your chances and avoided the guards, running down a street, stumbling only to see Dharma chase after you. She was much slower, and thus you kept running.

A few turns later brought you to an empty alleyway, familiar enough for you to know where you were. Just a couple of turns and you could hide in a busy town square.. However, seeing as it was getting late, hiding in the crowd might not be ideal. There weren’t enough people walking around at this hour to get lost between.

Turning your head around and round while catching a breath, you got spooked by the slightest hint of orange in your near vicinity, only to realise it was just a carpet hanging on someone’s window. Perhaps you had shaken her off for now.

Then, as you regained your balance, your eyes with those of a tiefling. Earlier you’d hoped to run into the handsome man again, but the tiefling looked like.. An adventurer. Perhaps he’d be more understanding of your situation.

The tiefling however, had frozen in place at the sight of you, causing you to freeze as well.

This sensation wasn’t pleasant, but you had to fight through it, Dharma could enter the alley any moment.

You could call out for help, but no words would leave your mouth, so you awkwardly strutted over to him, whispering loudly. ‘’Please- For a moment- Could you pretend to be my boyfriend?’’ You grit your teeth at how awkward the request must sound, looking over your shoulder, wary of the colour orange.

The Tiefling had a strangely calm aura around him, his shocked and startled expression faded and gave you a familiar, warm smile. He was about to speak when you could smell the arcane energy of whatever spell the woman was holding.

‘’THERE YOU ARE! You fiance-stealing-piece of shit-’’ Dharma’s voice rattled on about whatever insane delusions she had come up with the past week. You took your chance and hid behind the Tiefling, who tensed up as you brushed against him.

‘’What seems to be the problem, miss?’’ The tiefling’s voice was stern, mature. He kept up an act. ‘’Why are you chasing my darling around town?’’ Darling. That word made you feel weird.

‘’Wait.. Does he have a boyfriend? Oh.’’ Dharma lowered her hands, her magic waning.

‘’So you weren’t..’’ Dharma paused, trying to process this new information. 

‘’This all seems to be a big misunderstanding.’’ Dharma smiled with a teethy expression, stumbling. ‘’I thought he was.. No. Sorry.’’ She grew quiet.

Then she pulled her head upwards, almost in a sense of clarity. ‘’You don’t look like you’re dating, though. I’ve never seen you at the tavern before.. This is.. a ruse!’’ The mage put her hands back together, ready to load up whatever insane spell she was ready to cast earlier.

‘’I assure you, you don’t want to do that.’’ The Tiefling confidently placed his hand around yours, interlocking your fingers. You squeezed his hand, trembling.

‘’Murdering a young couple out on the streets.. Wouldn’t that be a crime?’’ His voice.. It was teasing, challenging. And his eyes, malice. He wanted her to try. 

To give him a reason to kill her out in the open. But.. He kept his composure. There was intelligence behind the quiet aggression.

For a stranger you’ve only just met, he seemed pretty heroic to you. It did concern you a little though.. What if.. The second Dharma was dealt with, the tiefling would turn on you? It’d be back to running off.. No more tavern.. No more Jilvy.. No more bed.. Just ice cold neverwinter and guards you could not trust. Hide.. Please let me hide.. You thought.

Then, he gave you a reassuring squeeze, the tension disappeared. ‘’Have you nothing to say for yourself, mage?’’ The tiefling spoke up again. Dharma began to mumble incomprehensibly. Her spell dissipated again. She started pulling at her orange dyed hair, then turned around.. And just walked off.

You let out a loud wheeze of air, realising you held your breath earlier. On reflex, you pull your hand away and stumble, leaning on the wall of the alley. ‘’Fuck.’’

The tiefling turns to you, with a worried look. ‘’Are you alright, T- … Terribly sorry.. Take your time.’’ his stutter caught you off guard, almost as if he was about to speak your name.

You took a few deep breaths, ‘’Thank you,’’ holding on to the wall behind you, ‘’I’m grateful-’’ And then you turn around and just.. Unwind whatever bile had risen in your stomach and release it to the cold snow. ‘’.. There goes my lunch.’’ You mutter as you wipe your mouth.

….

It’s Tav! As the scene had unfolded in front of him, he almost did not recognize his dearest treasure. He looked out of breath, scared. The scent of his adrenaline had led Astarion straight to him.

He wasn’t as dishevelled as Astarion thought he would be.. Tidied up.. But, thinner. His hair was a little longer than he’d remembered. And his eyes had lost some of their once so rich colour.

He was excited.. And frightened, when he stumbled over towards him asking for help. That was all it took for Astarion to keep on his mask and pretend to be this strong willed and helpful Tiefling adventurer..

When the insane wizard walked off, he quietly cursed the fires in his mind that craved to kill her on the spot.. No, he couldn’t just kill at random without understanding the situation.

Everything was going well.. And then Tav threw up his lunch from the shock. He wanted to hold him, pat his back, tell him everything was going to be alright.. But right now, he wasn’t Astarion. He was some random tiefling adventurer, so he had to act the part.

He needed to know where Tav had been hiding all this time.

‘’Nasty.. I would’ve done the same if I was in your position.’’ He turned his disguised face to look at the footsteps Dharma left behind in the snow. ‘’I mean the vomiting, walking up to strangers and asking them to pretend to be their boyfriend though..? An unusual call for help. What was she after?’’ Astarion eyed Tav as he leaned on the wall, trying to balance himself.

‘’I don’t know.. She’s nuts.’’ He paused, recollecting his thoughts. ‘’She’s some student that chased after her teacher into the tavern I work at.’’ 

‘’And.. I take it she was stalking this teacher?’’ Astarion quickly read into the situation with the new context.

‘’Yes, she was practically begging him to marry him.. I think after my boss sent her away, she must’ve snuck into my room somehow and hid there for .. Weeks? Gods.. She was plotting to kill me.’’ 

From the strange rant Dharma had earlier, she likely convinced herself she was going to marry this teacher.. He probably was a regular customer.. Tav is wearing an apron. He works at the front of the bar in a tavern, then. It all comes together..

‘’She was plotting to kill me..’’ Tav repeated, sinking to the snowy stone floor. His facial expression contorted with one of fear and withdrawal.

‘’Hold on,’’ Astarion reached out with his hand. ‘’I’ll stick around as long as you need. Talk to me.’’ Tav quietly took his hand and allowed him to pull him up.

‘’Okay.’’

Tav guided him down the street, holding his hand tightly for a moment as they walked a bit, he tensed up and released Astarion’s hand. ‘’Sorry-’’

‘’It’s alright. You work at a tavern?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’You smell awfully fruity though, are you sure?’’

‘’Oh, it’s.. It’s not the kind that serves alcohol. I pour tea.’’

‘’Wouldn’t that make it a teahouse..?’’

‘’No-no. More like a tiny restaurant, but operated like a tavern I guess.. There’s a bar.’’

‘’That sounds like a teahouse.’’

‘’Well my boss says it's a tavern, so.. I think it’s a tavern..?’’

The awkward silence cut in, making Astarion withdraw from his usual cool and get lost in Tav’s eyes. He definitely changed, but he hadn’t aged. The clothes he was wearing were concealing the loss of weight, his hair was messy but it wasn’t dirty. His hands were covered in bandages from small cuts, the kind you get from peeling potatoes.

He had been here working all this time.. Forgetting about Baldur’s gate, forgetting about him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have worried so much.. No. Tav was in danger just now!

He didn’t seem happy at all. Astarion could smell the hormones in his sweat, and combine that reading with his expression. Behind all the masking and fearful spikes of adrenaline was a stilling emptiness, something familiar.

The chill of illithid magic that he had used during their adventure resonated off of him, quietly. Subtly. Psionic magicks. 

Netherse magic, a remainder.. There’s no tadpole left in his head. There couldn’t be. He’d have transformed long ago. Whatever brain-altering the tadpoles he’d absorbed have done, it left a mark.

‘’Oh SHIT- SHIT! I left the door unlocked- Jilvy could come back any moment-’’ Tav erupted, turning around and about to wander off. ‘’Sorry- I’m sorry, and thanks so much again! I’ll figure this out-’’ He sputtered, running off and not giving Astarion a chance to ask where he worked.

But that wasn’t a problem, he got Tav’s fresh scent now. It was only a matter of time..

And he had so many things to plot ahead.

[agrazza]

ficlet (an au for "On Childhood")

A Bhaalspawn meets himself. It goes... about as poorly as could be expected.

(Sharing this here for anyone not in the discord. A 'what if' scenario for the epilogue of my fic "On Childhood")

He came to, flat on his back, his thoughts blurry and confused for a moment. What had happened? Last he remembered, he’d been gleefully snooping through sedately exploring Ramazith’s tower for anything useful— they’d found some good stuff in there before, even though it was extremely annoying to navigate— and he’d found an artifact that was hummed quite pleasantly to his magical senses as well as very shiny indeed.

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have grabbed it with his bare hands. But he’d had hopes of draping it against Astarion’s perfect skin and making him smile, so. Whatever.

He definitely wasn’t in the tower anymore. He blinked up at the familiar ceiling. Wood paneling, familiar chandelier. He was back at the Elfsong. But how had he—

“Oof!” There was a sudden weight on his torso as boney knees dug into his kidneys. He reacted on instinct, making to throw off his attacked, but a flash of metal stayed him; a knife.

A beat later, he realized his would-be killer was the tiniest murderer he’d ever seen, glaring down at him with bright blue eyes and a vicious scowl on his little face, his hair falling forward to brush Tav’s neck as he leaned over Tav’s body with a snarl. Hells, how had a kid gotten in here? Had Tav missed meeting one of Jaheira’s brats? Or was this one of Yenna’s friends? “Oi, you little shit,” he blurted, pulse still pounding with the suddenness of the attack. “Put that dagger away before you hurt someone,” he snapped, and reached to wrench the weapon away.

The boy fought him for it, and when that didn’t work, Tav’s greater strength preventing him from sinking the weapon into bard-flesh, he turned his head and bit down, hard, on Tav’s wrist. “Ouch! You little—”

“Tav, don’t!”

He and the gremlin both froze up, though it took Tav a moment to pry his wrist free of little teeth. A beat later, and Astarion’s perfect hands reached down and plucked the little terror off Tav’s chest. The boy went loose, not at all like the feral little thing he’d been only a moment earlier, but he was still hissing at Tav.

“Hush, you,” Astarion said, cupping the boy’s head and turning him away from Tav, and the kid tucked his head under Astarion’s chin like it belonged there.

“What the fuck is going on,” Tav said to the ceiling, because the sight of Astarion snuggling a toddler was too much to be believed. and then Wyll was there too, hauling him to his feet. “How the fuck did I get back here? And why the fuck did you bring another feral pipsqueak to our camp?” he demanded.

Did… Did Astarion just kiss that strange boy’s temple? Or had Tav hit his head too hard again?

“Oh, dear,” Gale said, as he approached, grimly looking between the brat and Tav. Tav glared at him.

“Not exactly what we expected, was it?” Wyll agreed. “Are you feeling alright, Tav?”

“I’m fine,” Tav said, and the kid nodded solemnly, still glaring at him. “No thanks to you,” he added, irritably, then gestured impatiently when no one jumped to explain the kid’s presence. “Well, where did it come from?”

“Don’t call him an ‘it’,” Astarion said sharply, and Tav startled, a little wounded. Astarion must have seen it, because he softened immediately, though he still kept some distance, which Tav was going to pretend didn’t bother him, at all. “My sweet, everything’s fine, but I’m afraid you’re involved in a little… magical mishap.”

“What magical mishap,” he bit out, but the boy’s eyes were suddenly looking disturbingly familiar. “You’re shitting me,” he said, jaw dropping, and the kid— himself?— gave him a very unimpressed look. “No godsdamned way. Fuck.”

“Fuck,” the boy repeated, in the exact same tone, and Wyll winced.

“Language,” the warlock sighed, as if not for the first time.

[stormyjane7]

Letting Go Together

Summary:

if you get confused or want more information on why this Tav doesn't want sex, i wrote a prequel to that. https://archiveofourown.org/works/53581099 As i said before, for this series this is based on the HC of my Tav, but i do not give any descriptions or name so that you, the reader, can insert yourself in! Enjoy!

TW: nsfw, mutual masturbation Read on Ao3

The trek from the grove to, and now through the mountain had been long and tiresome. Your crew of misfits now taking their night cap around the fire close to where the creche should be. You would attempt to seek out help there tomorrow for your worm problem. 

On the way here, you and Astarion decided that you would like to share tents as you were starting to get closer together. You felt especially safe around him after you shared wine and knife in the woods not even a tenday ago. You spent most nights up talking through both of your shit, even if you felt Astarion was holding back still, that it just made sense to combine tents and fall asleep whenever you felt like it. 

Your camp mates were unaware as to the true nature of the relationship. They knew you were close, but you have had to already rebuke a few passing attempts from others, stating simply that you were not interested in sex with anyone at the moment.They weren’t close enough to know the whys yet.

Astarion, on the other hand, was very well versed in why you were refraining from any sexual activity. It was a nice change of pace for him, even if it caught him way off guard. It was starting to get harder to stick to this mind set after sleeping next to him every night. You truly have never felt safer, but you also wanted to make sure you weren’t making a mistake again.

Tonight though, you decided to change things up just a touch. You wanted to have more skin to skin contact with your beau, so you shimmied down into your small clothes so that your bits were still covered but that you could feel more of him in other areas. He was pretty thrilled at the idea and joined you but only removed his shirt. Your clothes both now just piled up on the side.

He was letting you trace the scars on his back gently. You couldn’t make any of the infernal out, but you hoped with your soft touch you could erase some of the horrid memories that had been flayed into his flesh.  As you were placing a few small kisses on his upper back, a horrible crash sounded out in the camp. You grabbed a shirt and threw it on to run outside the tent.

Everyone was standing around a very fluffy and very panicked owlbear cub. It seemed to have been the one you had saved before at the goblin camp. You got closer and knelt down taking a swig of an animal speaking potion Halsin had thrown your way.

You found out that the poor thing was hungry and got it a bit of food. Scratch came over to help calm him down and find a good spot to rest for the night.

When you stood up you noticed that everyone was staring at you.

“Well soldier. Finally banged fangs?”

“Huh? Where in the world did you get that idea from?” “You happen to be wearing nothing but his shirt, Tav.” Wyll chimed in.

You started to panic. You look down and indeed, you were wearing only Astarion’s shirt. The top of your chest smalls were peeking through thankfully to cover where your breast would have been showing. You could feel your entire body flush red as you were truly embarrassed by this situation.

You coughed before speaking again. “No, we have not, banged, as you say Karlach. Not that it’s anyone’s business, but cuddles can be nice when most clothes aren’t involved.”

“I think that’s wonderful you’re keeping it chaste, well, as much as chaste as you are doing.” Wyll, ever the romantic, was thankfully helping the tension that had formed in the group. Pack of wild animals you thought, salivating at the mere thought of sex it seems.

You turned towards Astarion and quickly flushed bright again. The man was standing there, with fire in his eyes taking the sight of you in. You gulped as he reached for your hand to drag you back to the tent. He had closed and secured the flaps and had you in a searing kiss in a flash of a moment.

“Gods above, you truly test my will tonight darling. You look amazing in just my shirt.” He nipped at your ear which made you squeak. 

“Astarion..” He growled hearing his name from your lips like this. This caused heat to go straight to your center. You were in agreement, tonight would be a test of your resolve.

“I know darling, I know.” He said sweetly as he sat down on the bedrolls with a bit of a huff. “I will not cross that line until you are ready, I promise. But I can tell it’s not just me who’s heated tonight. Can we try something?”

You sat down facing him, “And what would that be?”

“We can still help each other get the obviously needed release we both need without any penetration of any sort.” Your face brightened at the idea. Was this something possible? Your experience was limited to the bastard that left you afraid to have sex again. While that time was consensual, the fact that he stole your dowry and left you pregnant, left a sour taste in your mouth. You had no lovers till now so you felt as if you were brand new to everything again. 

“We have a few choices, but here’s one I’d like us to try. Come sit on my lap. We can be together while we touch our own bodies.” He trailed off letting his words sink in. “No penetration, but being close to each other would be so nice.” He growled the last word.

“Mmm. That does sound nice. Okay let’s do it!” You start to take his shirt off of you when he tuts at you.

“Keep the shirt on, lose anything else you’re comfortable with.” He grinned up at you.

You went ahead and shimmied out of your underwear as he decided to go completely bare.

“Oh now I feel overdressed..” “Hush and come sit on my lap darling.”

Straddling his legs you sat down more towards his knees. Giving a glance down at his now upright cock, you started to blush. He is thicker and a tad longer than your last person. You wonder how in the world it was going to fit if and when you both decide to bed the other.

He leans forward and gives you a kiss as he wraps a hand around his aching cock.

You watch him quietly so many thoughts going through your head. You wondered how it would feel or even taste. 

“Darling as much as I love that I have enchanted you with my cock,” he smirks, “don’t forget to touch yourself too. I want to watch you as well.”

You flush at his words and nod. Slowly you lowered you hand down to your already slick folds. Your hand found your clit and rubbed in time to the speed Astarion was pumping his cock. Precum was already dripping from his tip. It made you salivate. 

Both your breathing started turning into pants. Watching each other stroke yourself was turning both you on so much. You lean forward to embrace him in another kiss. You both speed up as the desire was pulling you spiraling. 

“Oh gods I’m gunna cum.”  You lean into Astarion for support. 

“Let go darling.”

Your orgasm rips through you and makes you tremble against Astarion’s chest. He pulled you in for a kiss as you rode out the waves of pleasure. You could feel him tense while still stroking his cock. You pressed your forehead against his wondering if he’d let you touch him at this moment.

“Lean back darling. Let me see just how wet you are.” He breaks the silence. His eyes filled with so much desire. You nod at his request.

You lean back using your other arm to brace yourself. Youmove the shirt up to show your lower self. Your hand trailing back down to spread your lips open to show your lover. 

“Fuuck, Tav.” He pumped his cock one last time before his seed spilled out over both your stomachs. 

This time it was your turn to pull him into a kiss while he rode out his climax. He was a shuddering mess under you and you felt happy for once with this level of intimacy with someone. 

You both sit there panting for a bit. Astarion reaches over to grab a rag to clean his mess up from your bodies. 

“That was hotter than I thought it would be when I suggested it.”

You hummed in approval, moving off him to put your underwear back on. You flip down next to him. 

“That was amazing. Just what we needed I think.” You turn towards him. ”You think next time I can taste you?”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll allow it.” He smirks and snuggles down next to you covering you both in blankets so that you both could trance. 

[yellowstonewolves]

Liar for Liar

Pairing: Wyll/Astarion

Chapter: 1/?

Ratings: Explicit in later chapters ;), mature for now

Summary: So there's this guy. "The Blade of Frontiers". Wyll Ravenguard. Can Astarion make use of the cocky righteous son of a bitch or not? Can he keep all his secrets hidden from the vaunted monster hunter? Might Wyll have some secrets of his own? (Slow burn that vaugely follows along with a Wyll Origin run. Smut in later chapters)

Ao3 link:

Astarion came to in the wreckage of the mindflayer ship, a telltale shade of green blazing against his closed eyelids He turned towards the dirt, braced every muscle.

Moments ticked by, and he was still alive.

He cracked open an eye, hissing at the sting of the sudden flood of light, and raised his arm. His skin was soaked in sunlight, glowing pearlescent with it. His head swam at the thought. The sun was warming him now, he could feel it, laying on him friendly, as if he had never been away.

He cupped his hand as if it would slip through his fingers, pressed a kiss to his palms as if daylight was something he could kiss.

Every inch of the world glowed with gifts for him, the muddy hues he had known transfigured into resplendent shades he only now realized he had forgotten. He stared at the gently waving prairie grasses and the little round stones and the dirt, even the dirt. His eyes ached but he wouldn’t let them close, not yet.

Gods help him, he was halfway to crying,at the simple beauty of a sun-soaked day, like some sort of fucking druid. 

Voices cut through the pastoral babble of nature then, and Astarion came crashing down to reality, hands whipping back to his daggers. He craned his neck in the direction of the sound.

“This tadpole’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had stuck in my head,” said a deep, pleasant  voice

Tadpole. Astarion’s ears would have twitched at that, had he not learned to suppress that reaction.  Was that what the thing in his head was called? He crouched behind a boulder, and  peeked out at them, a well built, one eyed, noble looking human and a scrawny half elf girl.

 “There was that ballad that was popular several years ago, the Snake and the Siren,” continued the man. He was handsome, the way the sun shone on his chiseled cheekbones, the spray of stubble along his jaw. But he was also familiar. He had been on that ship, “It echoed through every tavern, at all hours of the day and night. It was so annoying!”

“I don’t know it.” his companion responded

“Really? You’re lucky. It was everywhere.”

 She shrugged, “I don’t listen to music.”

“ You don’t… what, any music?”

She shrugged again.

Were they mindflayer thralls? It didn’t sound like it. But they could very well have retained all their human memories, even some semblance of a human personality, although their wills were no longer their own. He was pretty sure that was how illithids worked, although he hadn’t exactly brushed up on the lore about them recently. How negligent of him.

  They were not taking him back to the ship, not now that he’d felt the sunlight on his skin for the first time in 200 years, could  see it even now, everywhere he looked.

Would they fall for an ambush? Could he pull one off? It had been so long since he’d needed to think so hard. Usually he could just  whip out the routine, as habitual as getting himself dressed in the evening. Sometimes he wound his arm around some tipsy stranger in a tavern and found himself already in that lavish bedroom, head between their legs, with no memory of how he’d gotten there. 

It was a welcome departure to be in a situation that called for some finesse.  

The one eyed man came upon him first. He sprang into action at Astarion’s calls for help, but he did not look entirely surprised to find himself on the ground, Astarion’s knife pressed to his neck.

“Now,” Astarion purred, “I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?”

“Oh? Good for you”The man grinned, as if he were not aware how dire a position he was in“Did you watch me slay the ship’s captain?”

“No. And I didn’t--

“That’s too bad. I was in rare form. It was a sight to behold. Wasn’t it Shadowheart?”

“Let him go” the half elf said “Wyll is foolhardy but I need him alive”

“Certainly. Once he’s answered all of my questions. Now—

The man took advantage of the moment of distraction, rocked him to the side with a quick tilt of his hips, and slipped out from under him with some fancy rolling maneuver. 

Astarion swore, and crouched, ready to tackle him again. His eyes met Astarion’s red ones. 

Astarion felt a pressure in his head, something writhing, rooting through his thoughts. Astarion’s hand flew to his temple. It was Cazador he thought, heart pounding. Except it wasn’t. 

It was this man. His memories, bleeding into Astarion’s own. Astarion watched him chase some burly devil across the plains of Avernus, felt the familiar thrill of the hunt, and something else, under it. The righteous, furious indignation of an honest to gods hero, confronted with something he had judged to be evil.

The hero introduced himself as Wyll Ravenguard! The Blade of Frontiers! 

 He took the ambush in stride, “Some people lose all good sense in these kinds of situations” he said ,brushing the dust from his armor “Were I not a seasoned adventurer, perhaps I too would have succumbed to panic.”

He didn’t look like a seasoned anything. His scars aged him, but once they were accounted for, he couldn’t be older than thirty. But then, humans had funny ideas about aging.

Astarion took Wyll’s pardon magnanimously, for all he longed to call out for the insult hiding in those genteel words of his.

He took Wyll’s outstretched hand, shook it. The man looked him up and down, intensely scrutinizing. Astarion fought the impulse to cower under his steely gaze. He had more experience in keeping secrets than this whelp had in wiping his own ass. This Blade would glean nothing from him.

Hours later, Astarion stood by, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Wyll free a gith from a cage, seemingly unbothered by her hostile demeanor or the notoriety of her violent race. Astarion gleaned from their conversation that she had tried to kill Wyll on their first meeting as well. Goody. At least he wasn’t the only one.

At the first opportunity, Astarion pulled Wyll into a sidebar. As glad as he was to have someone of her stature along to protect him, he thought he’d better establish to the man who had fallen into the role of their leader that he was a far more useful companion, the last one who should be sacrificed to some rampaging monster or capricious god, should the need arise.

Astarion asked “When she breaks all your bones for failing to live up to her standards of brutality, can I have that fancy rapier of yours?”

Wyll raised an eyebrow“Many have tried to break me. None have succeeded.”

“Are you sure that’s not just up to luck?”

“A little luck”Wyll responded, “and a lot of skill. But if you’re afraid of her, I know a spell that could lend you some temporary courage.”

Astarion withdrew, trying to look as if he wasn’t pouting.

Their little group chanced upon a gently pulsing portal and when Wyll crept closer to it Astarion leaned forward, eager to see whether it would destroy him or not. 

When it turned out to contain an incredibly milquetoast wizard, Astarion was less enthused 

“How good can he be if he got himself stuck in there?” Astarion said. “He’ll probably blow us all up trying to light a campfire.”

“He was falling to his death at the time. Besides, these tadpoles are very complex, magically. We’ll probably need help of someone with a wealth of arcane knowledge” said Wyll, “if not him, then who? You? You don’t seem to be the intellectual type”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You seem to prefer to let your knives do the thinking for you. If indeed, you are thinking at all.”

“I am thinking.” Astarion huffed “I am thinking of all the dreadful things I could do to you in the dead of night tonight, if I got sufficiently fed up with your disrespect”

“See?” Wyll chuckled, “threatening me. That’s a poor plan if I ever heard one.”

 It’s a shame, really, Astarion thought. They were bedded down for the night, and he was filling his canteen from a stream, letting the water flow over his wrists with not so much as a twinge of pain.

Such a sharp tongue is wasted on a bleeding heart. It will fall silent, when Wyll’s blinkered valor gets him killed.

 Some memory wanted to stir within Astarion as he thought this, of another man, another time. He wrestled it down. 

He worried it was showing on his face, because when he looked up, he noticed Wyll was staring at him, from his place by the flickering campfire. He was holding a little black notebook, a quill poised over it, dripping ink as Wyll held it in place.

Astarion sauntered over, to stand by the fire’s gentle glow. He let his eyes linger on the hint of chest exposed by Wyll’s tight leather nightclothes “See something you like?” Astarion asked, infusing each word with sumptuous flavor .

Wyll’s gaze was suspicious, lingering on Astarion’s face, “Pardon me for asking, but do red eyes run in your family? Rare color, for an elf.”

Astarion snorted, relieved that he had not been caught in a moment of weakness, “Indeed they do.” he said, “Do stone eyes run in yours?”

 Wyll just chuckled, “An elemental somewhere, perhaps, in the Ravenguard family tree”

Astarion leaned just a bit closer, trying to catch a glimpse inside the notebook he was holding, but Wyll snapped it shut. 

Part of Astarion wanted to press, but his position among these odd people was still tenuous. There was no use in alienating their esteemed leader.

Besides needed to rest soon, if he hoped to have time to hunt before morning light. Should probably hunt first, sleep later but he was bone deep exhausted. He changed out of his doublet, finally, into more comfortable clothing. He’d need to pick up something with a higher neck once they reached civilization. If he was still free by then. 

His trance was predictably miserable. He woke up panting and sweating, head pounding . It took a few minutes to remember that he was free but when he did, his mood took a dramatic swing for the better.

He stalked the woods for the better part of an hour, looking for deer. By the end of it his good humor had dissipated entirely.Their party’s racket seemed to have scared all the big game away. He was just about to give up and go back to his tent hungry when the bushes behind him shook.

He whirled around just in time to see a rabbit hop from it, and pause, sniffing the air.

He took a step towards it and the creature looked up, met his eyes with its big brown ones. He could smell that its blood was pumping too fast, heart about to explode.

“There there” he whispered, keeping himself very still. 

The rabbit stared for a second, blinked. Then ,seeming to consider that he might not be an imminent threat, the rabbit’s eyes darted to a hole in the ground, about a foot to the left of it.

In that moment, Astarion pounced, teeth landing on its neck, arms and legs crashing into the ground painfully.  His fangs sunk beneath the rabbit’s  fur as its hind legs buffeted his chest. Its blood was like lukewarm water, tediously dull for all it took the edge off his thirst, albeit with none of the rotten aftertaste of plague. 

He caught a glimpse of the hole it had been looking towards, and he knelt over it, listening. There were more rabbits inside, smaller ones. He lashed out with his claws and came up with a fistful of bunny. It was only a kit,  couldn’t have been more than a week old, head the size of a peach pit. Barely a mouthful of blood in that tiny body.

  There would have been no harm in releasing it really, except that now it had made him contemplate releasing it. To inspire such thoughts was a crime that must be punished with extreme prejudice. 

He held the kit in his hand like a teacup, extended his pinky as he did so, on a whim. He pretended for a moment he was out on a veranda somewhere, finely dressed and entertaining the most refined company he could imagine—himself.

“And how are you finding your beverage, Lord Ancunín?”

“It is bland, Lord Ancunín, but there are worse tastes.”

“Too true.And how are you finding freedom, Lord Ancunín?”

“It is not bland enough. All this dreadful running about. But there are worse tastes.”

When he had finished he tossed aside the ball of fur that had been the kit, rubbed his face against the pelt of the mother, hoping to remove all traces of blood.

Just as he was leaving he saw Wyll, although the human did not see him. The man crept from the mouth of his tent, surveyed the camp, and stalked off towards the forest. He darted a look directly in Astarion’s direction, and secure in the knowledge that he was well hidden, Astarion took in his expression. The man looked haunted.

Wyll sat under the trees, chest heaving. He pressed a finger to his stone eye, withdrew it. He shook his head “Gods damn it. Why can’t I just…” He let out a groan.

 Wyll looked up, scanning the trees, as if his pitiful human eye was capable of discerning threats in the darkness. He seemed to conclude he was alone, and took out a handsome mahogany pipe from a leather pouch over his hip, stuck the end between his teeth. He drew out a smaller pouch of tobacco, crumbled the dried leaves between his long, thin fingers. He filled the bowl, pressed a thumb to pack, filled it to the top again. He pursed his pretty lips and blew, priming the pipe.

So he had a smoking habit. Astarion would not have expected it of him-a bad example to his leagues of adoring fans, surely? 

Wyll took out an arcane igniter,flipped it open and tapped the rune inside. A mote of fire flared up in the wake of his finger. Its reflection danced over his cheekbone, an orange ball wavering on his skin like the moon on the surface of a lake.

 Wyll lit up with the same hand that was holding the pipe, letting the tip of the flame brush the surface of the tobacco just for a second, without scorching the rim of the bowl. It was a neat party trick, one that Astarion had seen performed many times, in many bars, though not often with such practiced nonchalance. 

White vapor rolled out over the burning leaves. Astarion could almost smell it, bittersweet, acrid. The scent of gin-soaked hunting grounds and doomed afterglows.

 Wyll closed his eyes tight, cheeks hollowing as he inhaled. 

Wyll blew a cloud of smoke into the night air, watched it wind in tendrils towards the heavens. Some of the tension had melted from his shoulders, though not all of it.

  Astarion toyed with the idea of strolling over, asking for a pull, and then another, brushing his lips against Wyll’s inviting ones, feeling the points of his stubble clustered like stars on his skin. He imagined sucking the smoke from his mouth, pulling back, letting it leak from his parted lips like a poisoned promise as his palm cupped the hero’s jaw, thumb stroking the warm skin of his face.

Too bold, he decided, but he found himself taking a step forward regardless. A branch snapped under his foot. He winced. Shit. 

Wyll jumped like a kid whose parent had just rattled his bedroom doorknob at the worst possible moment, yanking the pipe from his lips as he squeaked “who’s there?” 

Astarion stilled himself, refrained from blinking or breathing and Wyll cleared his throat, said in a deeper, more classically heroic voice “Who’s there?”

Astarion didn’t move a muscle. 

In a much louder voice, one that echoed like a chorus of monsters from the very depths of the hells, he bellowed “Answer me!”

Astarion fought the urge to bolt.

When that produced no response Wyll shrugged, slumped back against the tree. He held a finger to his eye, lowered it just as quickly, sighed. 

Astarion recognized despair when he saw it, the stale kind, where the wounds were scabbed over with layer after layer of resignation. There was nothing to gain, he saw, in trying to muscle in on this moment, so he would take his leave.

It had nothing at all to do with that voice Wyll had shouted in. Astarion had not been pants-shittingly terrified, hearing it. 

He hadn’t.

[hazzyking]

Don't mind me, I'm hyperfixated on my characters shared trama

My writing is bad but I wanted to put this on "paper"

Thoughts I've had while playing the game

And no. My character is not a barbarian she's a Rouge. Just a really angry Rouge

"Lovi, are you sure you want to do this?" Klarach asked as they walked through the castle, her voice echoing softly off the moist walls.

"As long as Astarion sleeps through the day. Yes" she sighs heavily as she approaches the pool of blood in the crypt "seven hells" Lovissa gasps at the grousome scene before her.

"By the gods! What the hell did he do!?" Klarach gasped looking over the mulataded body of Cazador.

"I-it didn't look this bad when I found him... I swear" Lovissa gasps looking over the gaping stab wounds "dosnt matter. Can't get any dedder" she said as she pulled out a golden scroll of revival.

"Are you sure about this, Soldier?" Klarach asked. "Took us a long time to get him this close to death" it didn't matter what her friend was saying. She was already reciting the words on the scroll and watched Cazadors body come to life, the vampire lord groaned in pain looking up at Lovissa.

"Finally tired of your toy are we?" Cazador struggled to speak, Lovissa's lower lip quivered as tears threatened to spill from her eyes "Sorry, death has a no refund policy"

"Fuck you, you fucking sick fuck!" Lovissa screamed taking the knife in her hand and stabbing him in the throat. As Cazador gurgled on the monsoon of blood that erupted from the gash, Lovissa continued hacking and stabbing violently, screaming loudly.

"Well, can't say you two weren't made for each other." Klarach sighs, just watching the scene unfold. As if it was act two of Cazador's death. Lovissa screamed in his face as she stomped in Cazador's skull, his fingers still twitching with what little life was left in them. Lovissa caught her breath and pulled out another scroll. "Why don't we let the dead rest in piece?" Klarach suggested placing a hand on Lovissa's armored shoulder for a brief moment as the leather seered under her touch.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Lovissa seethed as she recited the scroll again.

"Right..." Klarach watched as the corpse barley reanimated. This time, Lovissa bent his fingers back. The bone cracked, erupting through the crypt. "What if Astarion wants to visit again? How are we going to explain... this?" Klarach asked, looking over the body. Which looked worse now than when Astarion left him. "Why don't we"

"He doesn't deserve piece... he doesn't deserve death, " Lovissa muttered softly as she killed Cazador for a third time."He deserves centuries of pain. And suffering, " Lovissa cried softly."How could he... take such a beautiful person... and ruin him. " Lovissa sobbed softly, mourning for the man she would never know because of Cazador's cruel ways.

"I wish I could hug you..." Klarach shudderd as she knelt down next to Lovissa."You both deserved better, " She said. "But now you both need to move on." Klarach said softly, urging Lovissa to leave the crypt in the dust.

"Everytime I look into his eyes... all I see is what this thing did to him" Lovissa motions to the now unrecognizable corpse. "I want to take it all away" She cried softly wiping away her tears.

"When night falls, you can tell him that." Klarach smiled a gentle smile. "Let's get out of here. Before we make matters worse"

[samsaraandbeyond]

OC Introduction: Vertigo (+ Baron)

Art by Squiddy62 (NSFW)

Contracts with demons aren't so easily broken.

Design

Somehow, that's a knife he's holding.

(Minor Baldur's Gate 3 spoilers ahead!)

So.

I start one save file. Then I start a second one. Then, I eventually stopped both of those to start a third one with Bal and Tav together because I was tired of changing between save files.

Then I start a fourth. This is where Vertigo comes in.

A Tav run in BG3 is basic, self-insert fun. A Dark Urge run is a darker version of the Tav run but still essentially a Tav run. Even though I complained about changing between files, it was mostly because they felt the same with minor differences.

I had an idea. This save file would be different. I was going to be a lot more morally questionable.

And wow did it change a lot.

Abilities / Traits

Expert Dark Magic Mastery

Shang Tsung (Mortal Kombat)

Vertigo trained himself in the arts of the Warlock.

Summoning familiars and minions, raising the dead, curses, and the arts of possession, Vertigo has a variety of spells in his arsenal.

"Strength in numbers, as I always say." - Vertigo

Dragonborn's Blessing - Poison

Shizune (Naruto)

You'll be sick of him very soon.

Vertigo's innate dragon traits grant him the ability to engulf his opponents in a cloud of pestilence, corroding their bodies inside and out. In addition, ailment related spells receive a boost in power when cast by him, he has additional resistance to poisons, and his fangs can produce a deadly venom.

"The swelling in your throat, the ringing in your ears, the stinging in your eyes...Doesn't it feel like you're falling apart?" - Vertigo

First Aid Specialist

Healing magic off the table? He can work with what he has.

Vertigo is educated in the ways of the organic body. He has knowledge of various diseases, poisons, their symptoms, knows the proper procedures for tending to a variety of injuries and conditions, and can improvise solutions should proper tools not be available.

"I'll need to make a cut here, and here. Quit squirming; hold still. There's no easy way to do this and you aren't helping make it better." - Vertigo

Expert Blade Wielder (One-Handed)

Stab, stab, stab!

Vertigo is proficient with one-handed bladed weaponry, especially daggers. He can even duel-wield them without a problem if need be.

"My dagger-happy friend. What troubles you?" - Astarion

His Patron's Blessing / The Penumbra System

Vertigo offered his soul to the gods. Samsara accepted it without a second thought.

As he was familiar with being used as a pawn, Samsara thought it fitting to grant Vertigo access to The Penumbra System, a mystical network of minds, beings, and lost souls. With this, Vertigo could act as a vessel for others; accepting tasks and orders from outside forces with completion granting him an increase to his capabilities, information he seeks, or treasure he wants.

However, what he accepts may not always be in his best interests, resulting in a painful feedback loop; accepting a task he doesn't wish to perform in order to gain power with the hopes that with enough of it, he'll no longer have to.

"Well now, aren't you a useful little slave."

The Previous Patron - Baron

He never expected his slave to usurp him.

The draconic hellspawn, Baron, was formerly Vertigo's master. Events transpired that allowed Vertigo to break free of his pact and slay him, taking the demon's power for himself.

However, Baron had a contingency plan in place reserved for this outcome. As he passed, his tainted essence enveloped Vertigo, corrupting a part of his being. Though Baron may be dead, his will remains latched to Vertigo's mind, happily able to sew doubt and uncertainty into the dragon's every thought and action.

Despite this, Vertigo can summon Baron to assist him. Although he is physically and mentally incapable of defying an order given to him, he may intentionally accomplish the task inefficiently (but not to a point that Vertigo could be killed; Baron's will wants to exist too). As Baron's natural form is a bit big, Vertigo summons portals for him to manifest parts of himself from.

The usage of summoning portals so a giant ally would assist was directly inspired by Bayonetta!

Bayonetta and Gomorrah

"All of that effort to break free of your chains only to wind up with a fresh new pair. Hmhmhmhm. You truly are hopeless." - Baron

Personality

Vertigo has many layers. On the surface, he is a schemer with a sadistic streak who flaunts his superiority over others. Deep down, he's afraid of being taken advantage of and being helpless. He has a habit of making rash decisions in the heat of the moment, and manipulating others in the same way he wishes would never happen to him. Acts of unwarranted kindness towards him immediately make him emotionally vulnerable, though it may be replaced with harsh suspicion. Vertigo becomes easily agitated if he feels he's being disrespected or underestimated.

On top of being a hypocrite, he hardly apologies for making mistakes and will immediately come up with excuses as to why what he did was the right move or how what he did wasn't his fault. He sees admittance to something like a mistake as a declaration of weakness. He is very willing to profit off of someone's misfortunes if he sees them as a nobody or someone he will never encounter again. Although he can be willing to go out of his way to trouble others for his own benefit, he can be just as willing to help others with no reward in return (if he's in the right mood). Vertigo has no inherent ill will towards anyone that isn't involved in his affairs.

He heavily values allies and friends, if somewhat to validate his strength and usefulness. He has no problems going out of his way to return favors for those that assist him. While he won't show it, he can become easily attached to those he sees as friends, and will be emotionally unstable should he find out he's being conspired against or betrayed.

"My name is Vertigo. You'd be wise to remember it forever." - Vertigo

Baron was the standard demon you'd expect. Betrayal, senseless violence, anything to gain more control and power over others. Anything Baron said always seemed to have hidden intent behind it.

As the real Baron is dead, only remnants of his personality remain within Vertigo. A condescending, snarky, contrarian who spends his time planting seeds of doubt in Vertigo's mind for fun. What remains of Baron can at least enjoy causing misfortune to others.

"I'm sure it'll all work out, bahahahahaha!" - Baron

Backstory

To be added...

"Mind your damn business." - Vertigo "Touchy, aren't we?" - Baron

[the-apocryphal-one]

Ebb and Flow

Summary: She has always been watching him, hasn’t she? From the moment she met him. Maybe it was inevitable she would start seeing other things. Astarion x Isaniel

Also check it out on AO3 here and ff.net here!

A/N: whelp, here I am. writing fic with my OCs. that never happens. but this cheeky little bastard left me no choice. I fell in love with him so quickly, I had to write how my character did (or is starting to...getting there...feeling feelings...look we're still in EA and I love slow-burn enemies to lovers).

Minor spoilers ahead!

-

A mix of old paranoia and carefully-honed insight tell Isaniel, from the moment she meets him, that Astarion is suspicious. The only reason she even approaches the grass is because the risk of leaving an intellect devourer on the loose is far greater than the risk of exposing her back to a stranger. One is a dangerous beast that could quickly kill her or innocents if left unchecked; the other, she believes, is just an elf she knows to be wary around. He cannot do anything she is not braced for.

She is wrong. He is far stealthier than she’d expected.

-

After she diffuses the situation and they agree to work together, Isaniel subtly flexes her left hand. His dagger had cut into her palm as she’d struggled to pull it away from her throat. It was deep enough to merit healing, and she knows it’ll scar. A lesson.

It’s not an easy thing, to watch your surroundings and look for other survivors and keep someone in your peripheral vision, but she manages.

-

That night, everyone at camp is wary, watching each other, gauging their trustworthiness. They’re all newly acquainted, a collection of cast-off captives with bombs in their heads. It’s simultaneously the most ironclad and the thinnest of bonds. But gradually, one by one, they drift off.

Isaniel tries not to. Decades of learning to embrace Eilistraee and lower her guard around others have vanished tonight. She sits, staring at Astarion across the fire, and he stares back. His eyes are somehow both jeering and flirtatious, the planes and shadows of his face even more beautiful in the firelight. They sit for hours, just watching each other, her quiet declaration that she wouldn’t turn her back on a stranger heavy between them.

But eventually, exhaustion creeps up on her and slips the trance over her head, and then it is morning.

His smugness is unbearable.

-

Isaniel considers herself a practical woman. You can’t not be and survive the Underdark. She will refuse to give up on a cure until her body physically starts to change, but she knows that the second it does, she wants the others to cut her down—the same way she’d cut them down if they began to transform.

So when Astarion asks how she wants him to kill her should she sprout tentacles, she’s not affronted. She sees it as professional courtesy.

After some thought, she decides on a knife. Poison is not gentle, nor quick. Neither is strangulation. A good, clean thrust to the heart or head, though, will be fast and painless. The best result for her and those around her.

His eyes light up with enthusiasm as he discusses her choice, and Isaniel remembers how quietly he’d snuck up on her. This is not just professional courtesy, she realizes. This is a man who intimately knows the art of death, and loves it. And at that realization, the walls that had started to cautiously lower, just a tad, jerk back into place.

When he finishes, she crosses her arms, cocks her head, smiles coolly. “And you? How shall I kill you?”

His teeth flash an almost unnatural white when he grins. “Oh darling, I’d love to see you try.”

-

The night they gain some leads, she finds him stargazing while doing the rounds of the camp. When she pauses to speak with him, it is surprisingly nice. His quip about “taking or leaving” her chin makes her lips twitch, despite herself. And she can’t help but approve of someone who can also appreciate the beauty of the night sky.

Her eyes seek out the moon instinctively. Her hand closes around her sword pendant for a brief moment. Eilistraee, watch over me.

For a brief heartbeat, an echo of a song floats through her mind. It’s the same music that stopped her dead in a marketplace in the Underdark, so beautiful and ethereal and divine it almost brought tears to her eyes. Isaniel would later learn that Eilistraee was always seeking to touch the hearts of the drow, and had been beyond grateful she’d listened. But at the moment, all she had known was that she could not rest until she’d found that music again. Hearing it again now is a promise.

The notes fade, but she doesn’t feel empty like she did that day in the Underdark. Her goddess is with her and loves her, and there is nothing more comforting in the world than that. Even Astarion seems not so bad in that moment, and they bask together in the companionable silence.

But then he wonders aloud what will happen in the future, and the illusion of safety breaks. She briefly mourns its departure; then, she straightens her shoulders and looks back at reality. And reality includes him.

She gives him a taste of his own medicine: “What? Would you miss me?” He laughs, rises, and compliments her. She accepts it, and in doing so deflects. He flirts, invades her personal space. Out of sheer stubbornness, she refuses to step back. To do so would be to admit that he has unnerved her. It’s not just his proximity; it’s this undercurrent of something.

The dance ends; he leaves. The tension drains out of her body.

-

When she emerges from a restless, unsuccessful trance and finds Astarion leaning over her, Isaniel lashes out. Her elbow catches him square in the jaw; he curses and stumbles back, and she almost attacks while he’s off-balance. But she’s a follower of Eilistraee, and somehow, she’s become the leader of their group. Both of those factors give her a responsibility to hear him out. So, she stomps down on those old, false instincts and lets him talk.

It’s almost a relief to find out he’s a vampire. The secret is out, and now she can deal with it. Really, Isaniel feels like a fool for not putting the pieces together. The sun doesn’t burn her eyes anymore, thanks to the tadpole—why shouldn’t a vampire be able to walk in it as well? But she’d just assumed that his red eyes were indicative of drow blood somewhere in his family, the fangs some form of genetic defect.

Astarion asks her to trust him. Incredulously, she counters that he tried to bite her. He retorts that they need each other. And then he begs for a sip of her blood.

Isaniel takes a deep breath. Looking around, she realizes that their brief scuffle woke the others up. She decides to give them the benefit of the doubt and assumes that they only watch because they’re too surprised to actually do anything. But that’s irrelevant right now. She turns her focus inwards and analyzes exactly how much they need Astarion.

He’s the best among them at picking a lock. His speed is blinding. He’s deadly with his daggers. And he moves so silently…

Losing him would be bad, she has to admit. So: keeping him means feeding him. And logically, it makes sense that a vampire would not find animal blood as nourishing. Oh, she knows he’s manipulative, she doubts he’s telling the whole truth with his “I’ve never fed on humans!” spiel—but she does believe him in that, at least.

She certainly can’t half-starve him, but she will not let him eat innocents. So…what other options are there? Letting him feed off their enemies? Plausible; but that is a question for the morning. Because Astarion is ultimately right: it really comes down to whether she can trust him.

Isaniel doesn’t know what surprises her more: that she does trust him, or that the events of this night haven’t cost him all of it.

Well, she trusts him to an extent. She gives him his share of night shifts, she relies on him in battle, and he has easy access to their food. But that’s trusting him not to kill them; keeping him, knowing what he is, requires trusting him to not lose control. It means trusting that if an emergency happens and he needs their blood, he won’t go into a frenzy and drain them dry.

A test, then. If he reverts to a creature of base instinct, if he cannot be reasoned with, if he tries to kill her, she will kill him. Better to discover the extent of his self-restraint now, while she’s alert and prepared to stop him, than later, when circumstances might not be so fortuitous.

So she sends up a quick prayer to Eilistraee, bares her neck, and lies down.

-

He gets caught up in the moment, but her command to stop brings him out of it easily enough. He lets her go, breathless and smiling, thanks her, and stalks off.

Isaniel can’t be angry at him; after all—and this is very hard to admit, even to herself—she almost got caught up in the moment too.

-

Sometimes she would catch him gazing at the sky, during the day, open wonder on his face. Now she knows why.

Isaniel can understand that. With her eyes no longer burning, she can drink in the tableau around her in a new way. There are shades of color she couldn’t quite discern before, and everything seems so much richer in the sun. How many drow have been able to do this? Very few, most likely.

It’s not enough to make her want to keep the parasite—it could never be enough—but it is something she can’t help but appreciate.

-

The day the sickness strikes, Isaniel gives the order to make camp where they stand, long before night falls. They’re all just too exhausted to keep traveling, even to search for a suitable place to rest.

That’s not the only thing they’re too exhausted for, as it turns out. Not one of them can muster the energy to scout for nearby threats, or camouflage, or stand guard. Even Lae’zel’s attempt at a “mercy kill” is sloppy. They’re all so pathetic a kobold could walk into their midst and kill them.

Between talking Lae’zel down and doing her customary rounds of their parody of a camp, Isaniel’s low energy reserves are completely barren. As she crawls into her bedroll, for some reason, her mind turns back to Astarion’s panic.

He’s usually so self-assured. Smiling in the face of anything. Ready with his rapier wit. The complete unraveling of his composure is…alarming.

But before she can think much more on that, a fresh wave of tremors hits her. She squeezes her eyes shut, curls into a ball, and prays.

-

The next morning, Isaniel wakes up with heartache—and fury.

How dare it? How dare that parasite approach her in the guise of her dead husband? How dare it speak with his voice, ignite her skin with his touch, dishonor his memory by wearing his face? The sickness of the previous night is completely forgotten; instead, she shakes with rage as she brushes her hair, checks her equipment, gears up. Her fingers itch to play her lute and vent it all out in jagged, discordant music—but no. Astarion’s pale form is up and about, but the others are still sleeping.

She pauses and subtly studies him. He looks much better now; his movements are fluid again, his step springy. Even his hair somehow seems extra fluffy.

He turns, catches her staring, and winks. She rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch, damn them. Definitely back to normal.

At that, the memory of the dream rears its head. Her anger, which had started to simmer down, flares up anew. Isaniel scowls as she struggles with her sword belt, her normally dexterous fingers made clumsy by emotion. Curse that tadpole to the Hells—

“Well hello! Feeling better, are we?”

Astarions voice rings from right next to her, and she jumps. Eilistraee’s sword, how did she not realize he was a vampire sooner? No one can move that silently and swiftly and still be mortal.

“I certainly am,” he continues, without waiting for her answer. “This morning I find myself free of pain and with a new trick. A new power. Last night, the risk of transformation—it all feels like some terrible dream now.”

A dream…

Isaniel doesn’t know why she opens up to him. Maybe it’s because he’s around and she needs to get it off her chest. Maybe it’s because his witty tongue actually does make her chuckle, despite herself. Maybe it’s because he draws her eyes like the moon draws the tide.

Regardless, she ends up spilling the contents of her dream, anger and pain leaking into her voice. Astarion doesn’t really say anything; he just listens, eyes bright with curiosity and intrigue. But just listening is enough; she can feel an invisible weight lifting off her with every word out of her mouth.

When she finishes speaking—with an exhale of relief—he asks if she enjoyed it. Her fists clench at the memory of that intruder’s touch on her skin. “No, it felt invasive. Uncomfortable.”

“We had the same dream, then. The worm’s trying to be…enticing.”

Had he also seen someone he’d loved? But that blank look, the flat voice…there’s more to it than that, she’s sure. Isaniel hesitates, then pushes him to share. He lent her an ear, in his typical flippant fashion, but an ear nonetheless. It’s only fair to return the favor.

The truth of what he really dreamed about surprises her. She finds herself blurting out, “Your old master? That doesn’t sound ‘enticing’.”

“It was not,” he says, voice raw and low. “I—we don’t need to talk about it.”

And—oh.

That flash in his eyes. That pain.

Her throat closes.

It was brief, but she saw it. She would never mistake it.

It’s the pain of someone who has been trapped in darkness for so long they don’t even know light exists. The pain of someone who lived with cruelty every minute of every hour of every day. The pain of someone who does not let themselves feel pain, does not even acknowledge they are in pain, because that would be weakness and wolves would descend on them if they admitted to that.

It was her pain, before Eilistraee.

Isaniel is not good at comforting people. She knows how to talk people into doing what she wants and how to keep their group more or less from killing each other. But put her in a room with a crying woman or a scared child, and she’s just lost. Emotions are messy and difficult to deal with.

But at this moment, she wants, more than anything, to brave them. To let him know he’s not alone.

She can’t think of anything to say, can’t figure out how to put this epiphany into words, so hesitantly, she reaches out a hand—

And he recoils like a snake. Then, he strikes like one, eyes and fangs flashing, venom flying from his mouth as he renounces her pity.

It’s not pity, she wants to say. It’s not pity, because I know how hard it is to survive an environment that wants more than anything to break you. To pity you would belittle your strength. It’s empathy and support.

But she’s so stunned that by the time she’s able to begin, “It’s not pity,” it’s too late; his retreating back is the only thing that hears her.

-

One of Isaniel’s first memories is of her mother killing her pet bat, then slapping her until she stopped crying.

It was as a lesson, of course: that love was something that would only be exploited. The sort of lesson that every drow child learned young. Other lessons included how to think creatively, hurt others, scheme, and be paranoid—Isaniel still remembers carefully pouring poisons and potions into large, hollow glass beads and stringing them into her jewelry.

The lessons that had really struck a chord with her, though, had been how to create. Her family had been artisans, and had held a relatively secure position as employees to a well-off merchant clan. The plotting hadn’t been as intense as among the nobles, but it was still dangerous. After all, there were rival artisans and rival merchant clans to watch out for or destroy, and Isaniel had done her share of participating in that.

But oh, she had truly loved art, beauty, music. Eilistraee used that to reach her, and through it Isaniel came to love Eilistraee in turn. But it took a long time. Secretly seeking information about that music, a flight from the Underdark, and decades of studying the teachings of Eilistraee, testing them, putting them in practice, before the scars the Underdark left on her had begun to heal. Decades in which she found companionship with others of her faith, met her husband, became a mother…lost her husband to the ravages of time…

And now, after such a long time away from the toxic mindset she grew up with, she has come face to face with someone who embraces it. And she is torn.

There is a part of her, one that Eilistraee has grown and nourished, that is appalled in the face of Astarion’s casual cruelty towards others.

There is a part of her, one that Eilistraee has also grown and nourished, that begs her be compassionate and forgiving.

There is a part of her, one that she has abandoned but clings to her like a ghost nonetheless, that screams at her to end the threat before he ends her.

There is a part of her, one that has been with her as long as she can recall, that sees his trauma, and remembers, and empathizes.

Their experiences are not the same. But the darkness is the same.

She does not know what to make of him. She does not know what she should believe or do about him. So she watches, and speaks with him, and tries to understand.

-

Their travels eventually take them to a swamp, and there, they find a Gur. A monster-hunter. That in itself wouldn’t necessarily mean anything, but it’s foolish not to gauge his intentions, considering her company. So, in-between Astarion’s light insults, she inquires.

He says he’s hunting Astarion. Not to kill him, but to capture him.

Ice settles in Isaniel’s belly.

Capture him. And bring him to his “associates” in Baldur’s Gate. Back to Cazador. Back to the bastard who scarred him down to his very marrow. Back to chains and torment.

That’s not going to happen, she thinks vehemently.

Astarion is practically vibrating in place, his red eyes hard and uncompromising, his hands hovering close to his daggers. And yet, he still waits for her order. Out of genuine respect for her authority? Trust that she’ll neutralize the hunter? She’s not sure, but something about it is…a little touching.

She gives the word, and he lunges.

-

The battle with Auntie Ethel is tough, but manageably so. They all stay away from the cliff edges and destroy her illusionary copies as soon as they appear, they put out the fires near Mayrina and keep her out of harms’ way, and while the hag’s spells are powerful, they all somehow manage to avoid the worst of the damage.

But Auntie Ethel is one of those types. The type that likes to taunt and mock with a loud, clear voice that rings across the battlefield. And through some hag witchery, she knows how to hit where it hurts.

“Is there still rat stuck in your teeth, slave?”

She’s not near him, but Isaniel can see Astarion’s flinch—then his strikes resume, much faster and more furious than before. Her own teeth grind with outrage and sympathy, and she redoubles her efforts, and soon the hag is brought down.

She is not feeling quite as sympathetic when, after bidding a crestfallen Mayrina farewell, Astarion blithely remarks that it was a pity the young mother-to-be couldn’t see the funny side in her husband being resurrected as a zombie.

-

And yet, he voiced his approval back when they helped Karlach.

It’s not like that outweighs it. Life isn’t a set of scales. Helping one woman doesn’t balance out being amused at another’s pain. The people Isaniel hurt back in the Underdark wouldn’t care or forget just because she helped someone else now. Words and actions have permanent, tangible impacts.

It’s not like she wants to “fix” Astarion, either. People can’t be “fixed”. They can be broken or damaged by others—but never returned to who they once were. They carry the scars and lesions on their heart, like Isaniel does. With time and support, they hopefully heal, but that’s only if they want to.

It’s more like—and she might be projecting a bit, or biased because of her past—remembering Karlach gives her hope that Cazador didn’t destroy Astarion’s humanity.

-

Maybe it was inevitable.

Isaniel weaves throughout the party, smiles freely, even dances and sings. It’s impossible not to—the tiefling’s joy is infectious, the gentle warmth of the wine is infusing her body, and the moon is full and smiling overhead. All of her problems will still be there tomorrow, but tonight is a night for forgetting, and celebrating, and living.

The back of her neck prickles, again. This time she doesn’t ignore it. This time, she turns, somehow already knowing what she’ll see.

Sure enough, there’s Astarion, lurking on the fringes of the party, a glass of wine in hand, eyes fixed on her. Under the moonlight, his hair is practically glowing, his skin silver-tinted. He looks like some ethereal king of night and winter, standing there silhouetted against the darkness. It’s striking.

Striking. Oh.

She has always been watching him, hasn’t she? From the moment she met him. Maybe it was inevitable she would start seeing other things.

A jostle jars her out of her thoughts; she’d stopped moving right in the midst of the dancers. She mutters an apology to the tiefling couple and hastily clears the floor. Glances up again.

Astarion is still watching her.

Before she consciously decides to do it, her feet take her towards him. She falters when her mind catches up to her body, almost turns and runs. There’s something in his eyes, something in the air, something between them that crackles with intensity and promise.

But it’s too late to run—he’s coming towards her, too. Her heart lodges itself in her throat. Stay strong, she tells herself.

Whether she wants that strength to resist the shifting currents in their relationship or to swim towards them, she does not know.