#i'm tagging this astarion i did name the piece after him and one of his silly lines so i think it tracks

[leaves-and-inks]

The Danse Macabre

I based this design off of some of my thoughts on vampire physiology, but with some exaggeration to make it a bit more fun :) (and maybe some inspiration from a certain vampire from a certain game but shh). Lots of color variations on this one too I'm reblogging with later!!

[ID: digital illustration of disembodied vampire teeth on a black background framed by a cream border in similar proportion to a Polaroid photo. The teeth are drawn scratchy borders and shading, and are opened wide and toward the viewer. Most teeth, save for some of the back molars, are depicted. The two outermost incisors on the upper and lower sets have a a point coming up at their farthest ends. The canines are long and needle-like to an exaggerated degree. The bottom canines are pointed in a similar way, but are not as long. Behind the fangs is a red, splatter-like glow. The overall has a strong amount of texture, being layered and scratchy with grain. Underneath the black box the teeth reside in is the text “.07 October” on the left and “the danse macabre” on the right. In between are faded red streaks dripping down from behind the black background./end ID]

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 32

Chapter 32: A Curse Broken

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 4,999

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

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Summary: Tav and Halsin set out to find Thaniel's missing half. Part 32 of the slow burn fic. Tav and Halsin POVs.

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual love confessions, eventual smut, angst, implied past rape/non-con and abuse, graphic description of injuries, brief suicidal thoughts.

A/N: And we're back! Enjoy this next chapter! Sorry for the long wait between updates...don't worry I'm definitely still chipping away at this fic! They'll still be a bit sporadic while I'm in school but more story is coming I promise <3 Thanks so much for coming back to read after such a long break!

Halsin barreled past the mingling inhabitants of Last Light, still clutching Thaniel tight against him. The small groans and labored breaths coming from the small boy in his arms brought tears to his eyes. From what he could tell, Thaniel was suffering from a similar malady to Art Cullagh, but the hold on his mind was far stronger. In his weakened state, it must have been easier to take over his mind, allowing the shadows to take deeper roots. Without returning his missing piece, Halsin was certain Thaniel would remain under Shar’s spell.

Their brief sprint across through the woods led him stumbling past the edge of their camp, Gale and Astarion gasping for breath behind him. To his surprise, Shadowheart had returned from Last Light. She sat in front of her tent, lost in prayer or meditation.

Halsin laid Thaniel down next to the campfire to try and warm him up. Despite being huddled in Halsin’s arms, his skin was still cool to the touch.

“Who’s this?” Arabella had come skipping over to the fire.

“He’s a friend of mine, his name is Thaniel,” Halsin responded as he tried to catch his breath.

When he looked over his shoulder, Gale and Astarion had averted their eyes away from Arabella. They shuffled in place, kicking the dirt around their feet into little piles.

“He looks like the other boy I saw before Tav found me.” Arabella cocked her head to the side as she studied Thaniel’s face.

Of course. How did you not make that connection you old fool?

“I think you may have met his counterpart, Arabella. The part of him who has been trapped here since Thaniel was taken away to the Shadowfell.”

“Huh, he just asked me to play with him. I couldn’t find him though, so he must be good at hiding.”

“Do you remember where you saw him?” Halsin asked.

“Not exactly, it was too dark to see much. I remember being close to a graveyard,” she said.

“That’s alright, chances are he doesn’t stay in one spot for long.” He sat down next to Thaniel.

Astarion and Gale had wandered over as well, still decidedly avoiding Arabella.

What is that all about?

Having interrupted her meditations, Shadowheart also joined them.

“He…he’s just a child…” Shadowheart whispered next to him. “I thought you were exaggerating, or…or lying.”

“He’s much more than a child,” Halsin corrected her, “but he doesn’t truly know that.”

When he spared a glance up at Shadowheart, he saw confusion and anger oscillating over her features. He could see her pointed ears twitching behind the black fringe of her hair. Her hand was balled into a fist at her side.

“I don’t understand…” He heard her mutter under her breath before composing herself once more.

“Where are the others?” she asked, raising her voice so they could all hear.

“Tav was injured rather badly,” Gale explained, sparing a sympathetic look at Halsin. “Everyone else stayed behind so she could heal.”

“This must be important indeed if you came back without her,” Shadowheart aimed a bewildered scoff at Halsin.

“More important than you realize, Shadowheart. Her injuries were not life-threatening, I’m confident she’s capable of tending to them on her own.” He tried to project confidence with his words despite the fact that each one felt like a knife in his gut. When he looked back up at her, there was an unfamiliar softness in her expression.

“I…I need to meditate. To see if I can find any clues in his mind.” Halsin stood up, once again taking Thaniel in his arms. “Would you tell me when…”

“We’ll let you know when she’s back, Halsin,” Astarion said with a wink.

He gave him a grateful nod before taking Thaniel to rest in his tent.

***

Tav rolled her wrist and shoulder around, testing her range of motion. She had taken care of her wounds with ease – the injuries had been painful, but not life-threatening in the least. Wyll, Lae’zel, and Karlach had stayed behind with her after the fight so she could get healed up a bit. They also managed to salvage plenty of useful materials, so she was counting the battle as a win.

Gale came running up to them as soon as the camp was in sight.

“It’s good to see you up, my friend.” He patted her on the back. “Halsin’s waiting for you, he wanted to know the second you returned.”

“Thanks, Gale. I’ll head over right away.” She nodded to the others as she jogged over to Halsin’s tent, Lunari close at her heels. He was sitting on the ground outside of it, concentrating over Thaniel’s body.

“Halsin?” she called out softly. His head snapped up to her.

“Tav…you’re back.” He let out a relieved sigh as he stood up. “Forgive me, are you alright? I wanted to stay but–”

“I’m fine, Halsin. My wounds are healed, and Thaniel is safe here at camp. There’s nothing to forgive.” She held up a hand to cut him off. Even as she spoke, he was inspecting her wrist and shoulder.

“You…you dove in front of an arrow for Thaniel. For…” A single tear ran down his face as he looked into her eyes.

“Not just for Thaniel, for us. For you. And I’d do it again,” she assured him. Before she could continue, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a hug.

When she pulled away, she noticed marks up and down his arms in the shape of handprints.

“What happened?” she asked as she gingerly ran her fingers over one of them.

“There were wraiths and shadows that pursued us through the Shadowfell. Their grip was cold enough to leave burns,” he shuddered as he recalled the creatures.

“Here, let me.” Tav murmured her simple healing spell. She wasn’t nearly as skilled as Halsin, but it was more than sufficient to mend a few burns.

“Thank you, I suppose I forgot about my own injuries while tending to Thaniel.”

She smirked back at him. Of course he had neglected his own pain to concentrate on others’.

“Now…what have you found out? You said there was a part of Thaniel missing.” Tav reached up to wipe away his tears.

“Yes, his counterpart. It seems they were ripped apart when Thaniel was dragged to the Shadowfell. If we can find his other half, he should be able to recover. Once he is whole again, he can banish these shadows once and for all.” Halsin’s voice had taken on a new tone, full of hope and courage. Having found Thaniel, his confidence in finding an end to the shadow curse seemed to be born anew.

“Okay, where do we start though? What are we looking for?” she prompted.

“Even while subdued, this curse cannot fully suppress Thaniel’s power. We must look for signs of life in the darkness. Leaves, flowers, anything that doesn’t seem warped by the shadows.” Tav could see his mind racing, trying to think of any clues they could have seen during their travels. A sudden look of realization spread over his face.

“In fact, I saw something like that on our way here. Fool that I am, I didn’t recognize its significance.” His eyes widened as he spoke.

“Show me!” Tav fumbled with her bag to pull out the small map Jaheira gave them.

“There…just outside of Last Light,” he said breathlessly. They made a small mark on the map to save their destination.

“Okay then, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll head there right away.” She smiled and turned to walk back to the others, but Halsin caught her hand and spun her back toward him.

“Wait…” He pulled her a little closer. “This doesn’t have to be your burden alone. I’ve asked enough of you without being at your side. From now on, if you require my aid, you shall have it. Against the curse, against the Absolute…” He brought his other hand up to rest on the one he was already holding.

“…anything. Just say the word.” He tensed as he looked at her, almost as if he expected to be sent away.

“Then let’s get moving,” she responded with a smile. His shoulders relaxed as he squeezed her hand.

She whistled for Lunari to follow, but the wolf had curled up next to Thaniel with her head on his chest.

“I must admit I would feel better knowing he’s being looked after,” Halsin mused.

“Very well, we’ll leave her with Thaniel.”

Tav led him back towards the others, ready to brief them on their next mission.

She let him take the lead. The others listened with intense stares as he told them of his meditations with Thaniel. Halsin eagerly explained what would need to be done to make him whole again.

“Come now, surely this group of adventurers can handle a child.” Astarion’s eye roll was audible in his words.

“He is no mere child. Oliver is part of the spirit of the land. He has the power of this land as well. There is a good chance he will not come willingly after being isolated amongst the shadows for so long,” Halsin warned.

“We have a possible location, but this will be dangerous. I’ve asked too much of all of you to expect you to join another personal tangent.” Tav looked between her companions, hoping they would come with her anyway.

“We’re in this together soldier. Your tangents are my tangents.” Karlach came and put her arm around Tav’s shoulder.

“I couldn’t agree more.”  Wyll stood up from his seat next to the fire.

“I’ll always look for an excuse to put a bratty little child in their place.” Astarion was nonchalantly twirling his daggers between his fingers.

“I’ll be by your side, whenever you need me,” Halsin said as he took one of her hands.

“Hang on, are you coming with us bear man?” Karlach jumped in front of them to yell.

“If you’ll have me.” Halsin’s voice was anxious again.

“Fuck yes!” Karlach grabbed his free arm and hugged him. He seemed startled by the motion, but quickly recovered and hugged her back, his lips turned up in a soft smile.

“Here, this might help.”

Tav turned to see Shadowheart standing at the other side of the fire, holding out the Lathander mace they had found in the Creche.

“What happened to going against Shar?” Tav spat the words with a little more venom than she intended.

“This second spirit isn’t being held by Lady Shar. And…” She took a deep breath. “I need to see it for myself.”

“Then why not come with us?” Karlach asked, head cocked to the side.

Tav tensed at Karlach’s offer, but another bout of guilt gripped her chest when Shadowheart’s eyes darted to her. The obvious distrust she saw there was enough to make her want to hide in shame.

“Just because this spirit isn’t being held by her doesn’t mean I want to incur any further displeasure by participating in its release.”

“Fair enough,” Karlach admitted.

“Besides,” Shadowheart continued, “I heard you were injured rather badly before. This can at least help with the shadows.”

The look of shock and suspicion on Tav’s face must have been painfully obvious. Shadowheart just rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped back. “Regardless of our differences I’d prefer you all come back alive. I can’t exactly dispel this Absolute cult on my own, can I?”

“Thank you,” Halsin said, walking over to accept the weapon.

Shadowheart gave a curt nod before stalking back over to her tent.

Tav wanted to call out to her, but no words would form. She could feel the others’ eyes on her, wary of her erratic behavior throughout the day.

No matter. One more step, maybe one more fight, and this duty can be done.

***

Halsin’s heartbeat pounded in his chest, the rhythm resonating deep in his ears as they made their way up the hill. At the top was a small, decrepit house. Just like the rest of the cursed land, it had fallen to ruin. The walls barely stood, parts of the roof had collapsed, and the wood looked to be rotten all the way through.

Despite its concerning appearance, Halsin felt his breath catch at the sight of the small pathway leading to the door.

All around the perimeter of the house were patches of grass, in each patch a small group of flowers bloomed even in the darkness. Tall, sweet-smelling flowers with rounded, purple petals stacked upon one another in little clusters at the top of the stem.

Lavender.

“This is it,” Halsin whispered to the others.

He walked over and held one of the delicate blooms between his fingers. They were fragile, struggling to grow in such a harsh environment, but when he closed his eyes and focused, he could hear the smallest hint of a laugh through them. He stilled his mind to all other thoughts and just listened for a moment. A hopeful smile spread over his face as he plucked one from the ground and took a deep inhale, absorbing what little life he could in the darkness.

As everyone else caught up to him, he pulled out the small notebook he kept in his backpack, pressing the small flower between the pages. He wanted to preserve this one little piece of hope he found among the shadows.

A small voice cut through his reveries, one that was familiar, but felt twisted…tortured.

“She wasn’t very fun,” the voice sneered. “All I wanted was to play.”

Halsin took note of the few bodies around the house. The freshest one was a githyanki.

“But someone else is coming.” He heard the childish whisper but couldn’t seem to find its source.

“Creepy,” Karlach said. He could see the small shiver that ran over her body.

“It definitely sounds like a child,” Tav remarked. She had the glowing mace strapped to her back to chase away the shadows.

Their group peered around the decaying doorway into the house. It was small, only one room. Broken furniture lined what was left of the walls. The air around them made the hair on Halsin’s arm stand on end.

Something, or someone, was watching them.

“Boo! I scared you!”

“Fuck!” Tav, Astarion, and Karlach all shouted together. Each of them clutched their chest in shock as they stared down at the small child that had appeared out of thin air.

“I win! No one beats me in hide and seek.” He rocked back and forth on his feet, heel to toe, like he was waiting for praise for a job well done. The eager, playful look in his eyes caused the recognition to click immediately in Halsin’s mind.

He walked up behind Tav, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s him,” Halsin whispered, “he’s like an echo of Thaniel.”

Tav nodded her understanding, never taking her eyes off Oliver.

“So, will you play with me?” he asked, eyes still sparkling with mischievous energy as he looked at Tav expectantly.

“Oliver, right?” she asked gently.

“You know me?” His eyes brightened further, feet tapping in place with excitement.

“Yes, I know who you really are,” she continued, reaching a hand out. “I’m here to help bring you back to Thaniel.”

Oliver’s expression darkened.

“I don’t want to go anywhere. I have everything I need here. I just want to play,” Oliver pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Will you play with me or not?”

“Easy,” Halsin urged Tav, “remember, he doesn’t think of himself as any more than a child.”

“I’m not really one to play, Oliver. But I’m sure Thaniel is. If you come with us, maybe you could play with him.”

Halsin gave her an appreciative smile but noticed Oliver’s face twist into a frown.

“Spoilsport,” he muttered. “I don’t want to go back…I like it here. I get to play all the time.”

Oliver looked pensive for a moment before waving their group away.

“I don’t want to play with you anymore.”

With those words, he conjured a portal and disappeared beyond its edge.

“Any other ideas?” Tav turned to ask Halsin.

“The shadows have warped Oliver even further than I expected.” He couldn’t help the dejection seeping into his voice. “We must follow him. I think we should be expecting a fight on the other side of that portal.”

“Ah, that reminds me! Now that you’re coming with us bear man, you should know the safe word.” Karlach came up and clapped him on the shoulder.

“��safe word?” he asked, trying to hide his confusion. Either he was misunderstanding, or this group was much closer than he had originally thought.

“Yeah! The word is ‘whizbangs.’ Anybody says it, we get ready for a fight.” She smiled back at him.

“Right, understood,” he said, concealing a laugh with a small cough. Tav fought a smirk to his side.

“Onward?” she asked, looking to him for confirmation.

“Onward.” He tilted his head toward the portal and led them through.

The moment they stepped beyond its edge, Halsin felt a shift in the shadows.

“You should have just left me alone!” Oliver cried out.

A large, glimmering dome appeared over him just before he conjured several shadows that looked just like him.

Halsin dashed up to the barrier, avoiding swipes from the small shades as he ran.

“Oliver, please!” He pounded his fist against the dome but pulled it back with a hiss.

Burning pain had shot up his arm at the movement. He could feel the dark magic stinging his flesh.

“Don’t touch the dome!” Halsin turned just in time to see a large wraith making a clawed swipe at him, catching its hand with his staff.

“Maybe we can weaken it from afar,” Tav suggested as she drew her bow. She fired an arrow, careful to aim it past Oliver.

A beam of necrotic energy was reflected back at her, striking her in the gut.

“Fucking hells that smarts,” she wheezed, doubling over from the impact.

“You alright, sis?” Karlach yelled as she cleaved through two other shadows.

“I’ll manage. Keep those shadows under control until we can figure out a way to get rid of that barrier!” She stood up and shook off the brief attack.

Wyll started hurling spells at the wraith in front of Halsin. Eldritch Blasts soared through the air to strike the shadow, distracting it for a moment. Halsin took advantage of it, bringing down a tall beam of radiant light in front of him. With a blood-curdling screech, the wraith puffed out of existence.

Behind him, Halsin heard a noise that sounded like glass breaking. When he turned around, he noticed small cracks now lining the dome protecting Oliver.

The shadows are the key.

As the thought crossed his mind, he saw Tav take out another large wraith causing a large crack to appear across the top of the dome, solidifying his theory.

Oliver conjured shadow after shadow. A discordant symphony of childish cackles filled the air as each of his “friends” joined in. Whenever they dispelled a handful, another wave came to take their place. Everywhere they turned a small shadow hissed and swiped at them, desperately trying to deter them from Oliver.

“Hells below, these little brats are everywhere!” Astarion yelled as he took out another one.

“We’re close, every shadow vanquished weakens that shield around him,” Halsin called back to him. “Look at the cracks forming around it!”

The shimmering dome surrounding Oliver started to look like a glass bowl that had been dropped but hadn’t quite shattered yet.

We might make it through this yet.

Just as he finished the thought, Wyll took out the last little shadow with a spell, and Oliver let out another laugh.

“Now you want to play? Fine, let me show you my favorite toy.”

He conjured a shadow just outside of his shield in the shape of a massive owlbear. It let out an ear-piercing shriek before lunging at them.

“Fuck that’s a big guy,” Karlach hissed as she narrowly avoided one of its swipes.

Halsin responded in kind, shifting into an owlbear to counter it. Not a moment too soon either, for its next swipe caught him in the shoulder. A blow that would have been near deadly in his elven form. The creature followed with a hard stomp onto the ground beneath it, causing a small quake strong enough to knock his other companions into the dirt.

He tried to keep the owlbear busy, lashing out with his own paws to give the others a chance to recover.

Karlach was the first back on her feet, charging at the shadow from Halsin’s flank. She aimed a powerful cleave through the owlbear. The blade stuttered through the apparition like it caught on something, but then passed through the rest of the way in a smooth arc.

The others seemed to be having trouble getting up. Astarion was cradling his arm on the ground, Wyll was gasping for breath as he rolled to his side, and Tav had only made it up to her knees.

Karlach came in for another attack, but the shadow knocked her away with one mighty swipe of its paw. She was thrown into a nearby tree, slamming her back against its trunk.

While Halsin was distracted checking on the others, the owlbear leaped at him, pinning him beneath a heap of shadowy muscles and feathers. Just as it reared its beaked head, ready to attack, it cried out with a pained, unnatural shriek.

He spared a glance to his side where he saw Tav on one knee, bow still held out in front of her from firing an arrow.

With that final shot, the owlbear puffed away to be reabsorbed into the shadows, and the dome protecting Oliver crumbled to the ground around him.

***

Tav let out her held breath as the owlbear disappeared into thin air, still kneeling on the ground. When she looked back up at Oliver, the barrier protecting him had vanished as well.

Halsin dismissed his wild shape and was now taking slow steps toward the boy. Tav followed close behind, not wanting to startle him.

“Why can’t I just stay here, playing? I had everything I’ve ever wanted, right here, and now you’ve ruined it!” Oliver paced and pouted at the top of the stairs. “I’m not leaving – you can’t make me!”

Tav looked to Halsin for help, unsure how to soothe this powerful force of nature with the soul of a child.

“Be gentle,” he urged her, “like I said, he’s much more than a child, but he doesn’t truly know that.”

“You should talk to him, Halsin. You know what he needs to hear better than anyone.” She reached over to take one of his hands. He nodded back to her with a sad smile before kneeling in front of Oliver.

“No one is going to make you leave, Oliver. This is your home. But…” Tav choked back tears hearing the cracks in Halsin’s voice. “But it’s lonely and empty. I don’t want you to be here alone, I want you to be with Thaniel.”

“Why would I go back to him? He abandoned me!”

“No, you were taken from each other. Neither of you are to blame. I know your pain, truly I do. Thaniel was my friend too. I used to play with him, I grew up with him even though he stayed the same. I am who I am today because of him, and then he was ripped away from me, same as he was for you.”

“But would he even want me back?” Oliver kicked a small rock on the ground, not meeting Halsin’s eyes.

“Of course he will,” Halsin sniffled and took one of the boy’s hands, “you need not invent friends, you don’t have to be alone. Thaniel is back. And he’s waiting for you.”

“But I was alone. Even when it was scary.”

Tav rested a hand on Halsin’s shoulder and knelt next to him. “You’ve been so brave, Oliver. Spending so much time among the shadows? All on your own? Think of how much you’ll be able to help Thaniel.”

“I suppose he’s a bit scared too,” Oliver looked back up at them, a small smile threatening to spread across his face, “I bet he’d like to have someone to help him.”

He took a moment to think before speaking again. The brief pause felt like an eternity as her heart pounded against her ribs.

“Okay, I’ll do it. It might be nice to have someone to play with again.”

Halsin let out a relieved, breathy laugh.

“Well done.” He leaned into Tav as the tears in his eyes started rolling down his cheeks, causing hers to do the same.

“Are you crying? You’re both a bit big to be crying.” Oliver cocked his head to the side. “I guess that’s okay though.”

They both chuckled as they leaned against one another.

“I guess this is goodbye for now,” Oliver smiled, “but thanks for playing with me!”

Right before their eyes, they saw a swathe of golden light envelop Oliver’s body. The dark magic that had been lining his features was burned away, causing him to look even more like Thaniel. His face looked peaceful as he slowly faded away with the light.

Halsin and Tav stood back up, staring at the spot where Oliver had just been a moment earlier.

“It’s done…” Halsin turned to her, astonishment obvious in his handsome features.

Before she could say anything in response, his arms shot out to draw her into a crushing embrace. She threw her arms around his neck to pull herself closer. Their joyful, relieved cries mingled in the still air as they held each other.

He did it. Halsin actually did it.

Shar’s cursed darkness would choke the land no more.

“You did it.” Tav’s sobs were muffled by his shoulder as he picked her up off the ground, keeping his arms tight around her waist.

“We did it.” He sat her down again and took her face in both of his hands. “I could not have done this without you. Thank you, Tav. Thank you.”

He wiped her tears away; she reached up to do the same for him as he left a soft kiss in her hair.

“I couldn’t have done this without all of you.” Halsin let go of her to turn and address their companions. “You have helped me at a great risk to your own lives, and I will be eternally grateful.”

Karlach wore a mushy expression as she watched Tav lean against Halsin, hugging herself close to his side. The happy tears gathering in her eyes as she gave Tav a quick wink caused her smirk to turn to a toothy grin.

“Not to be the depressive voice of reason,” Astarion spoke up first, “but I see the shadows are still here and dark as ever.”

“It will take time for them to disperse. Thaniel is still recovering his strength, but with Oliver returning to his side I am confident that we will see them banished soon.” Halsin looked back to Tav, still wearing a soft smile.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys but I’m fucking beat,” Karlach yawned as she stretched her arms out in front of her. “I wonder what Gale’s got on the menu tonight?”

“Well, courtesy of our friends at Last Light, we were able to get some more fresh meat,” Wyll chimed in. “I’ve no doubt he found something incredible to make out of it.”

Wyll and Karlach turned away from Tav to start the walk back to camp. Astarion followed close behind as the other two started to salivate in anticipation of their evening meal.

Tav started to follow, but Halsin caught her hand.

“Wait…” he whispered.

She hung back a few steps behind everyone else with him.

“I don’t know what to say. There are no words to express my gratitude.” He brought his other hand up to envelop the one he was already holding.

“I…” Tav trailed off as she looked up into his gentle eyes, still shining with tears even in the darkness. “I’m so very happy for you, Halsin.”

One of his hands came up to cup her cheek.

“This victory is yours as well, Tav. I want you to share that joy with me. I know Tev’s death weighs heavily on your mind, but I hope you can allow yourself just a brief reprieve from your grief.”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. For just a moment, Tav let her pain float away. She gave herself permission to have a fleeting feeling of happiness and accomplishment.

“Banishing these shadows was such a distant dream for so long. Seeing it become a reality…I must admit, I’m not sure what to do next.”

She smiled back at him as she opened her eyes. “I guess you’ll just have to find a new dream to chase.”

“Perhaps once there’s less talk of curses and mind flayers, I can do just that,” he chuckled.

Tav saw the rest of their group turning around a nearby corner.

“We should catch up with the others, otherwise Karlach might claim all the food before we get back,” she teased.

“Lead the way,” Halsin said as he placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

At least one problem had been solved. Soon enough, the shadows would no longer choke the land.

Now all she had to do was dismantle a murderous cult of mind flayers being led by a former paladin of Shar before all of its True Souls could be turned into illithids and take control of the Sword Coast. The past three days had already proven difficult and overwhelming, but Tav had a feeling that the hardest fights were still yet to come.

[bhaalbabebardlock]

~Snippet Sunday~

Tagged by @astarionfreak and I'm gonna tag @mellybaggins and @grilledcheesd

(but no pressure ofc)

From a WIP Tandem chapter. VERY. VIOLENT.

Kill her. Render her flesh from her bones and spill the light of her holy goddess across this safe haven she has created. Rain down chaos in his name, wrench from the lips of anyone who would pray to any other god their wretched pleas for mercy that will go unanswered- for it is too late, because you know little of mercy.

For you are carnage made flesh, death given form with the sweetest of faces, and murder sings to you like a lullaby soothing you to sleep. A lullaby that you sing to those who fall before you. They all fall before you. They always do.

Her disgust was palpable, even to her. It was a wonder how she had smiled wide enough, her voice high and sweet enough to convince the druid that she just wanted to be helpful, that she regretted slaughtering those simpering tieflings. There was some truth to that at least. There had been just the briefest of seconds as she stood in that grove with them, pleading for mercy. She turned that word around in her head again and again, tasting it on the tip of her tongue.

The bard had asked that too, hadn't she? There was only the smallest of flickers into that night, when she had awoken and her hands had been drenched in blood, her fists sunk into Alfira’s chest up to the elbows as she pulled them out, sinew underneath her fingernails. She had sat there for so long she didn't even hear him approach, flinching when he crouched down and gently grabbed her shoulders. Lili. She had asked for mercy, she must have. Anyone would have, with the way her flesh had been torn into over and over. Dozens and dozens of jagged cuts lining every inch of her torso, her instrument smashed into pieces, her heart torn from her chest. Mercy.

She did not know that word. Astarion had not stopped her as she slaughtered each and every one, leaving not a single druid or tiefling alive and lighting the grove on fire behind them- and he was no less hungry for her as they sipped on sour wine and listened to the goblins in their revelry.

The only thing she questioned, regretted, and didn't like was this god. This all consuming fervor that Minthara hadn't shut up about. She held no loyalty to the god she had supposedly killed them for and if she ever saw Minthara again, she would make sure that was entirely clear. The Absolute. An absolute sham.

The point was the slaughter, not empty gods and empty promises and the worms they stuck in her head to make her obey them.

She obeyed only the urge.

She obeyed the call to reap bodies with her blades.

A cleric of the moon goddess. She was so good, brimming with light, a shining beacon in the darkness of the cursed shadows they were all trying to hide in. She'd offered her protection, and Lili smiled as she stepped forward and plunged her dagger through her soft stomach, sinking between ribs.

The bliss. There was almost nothing sweeter, nothing closer to absolute rapture, than listening to the sound of a heartbeat slowing, slowing, and stopping.

It was a beautiful symphony, a cacophony of carnage that she wished she could listen to again and again. Thump. Thump. Silence.

“Lilith, for gods-” He yanked her back, his voice almost as warm in her ear as that damnable clerics blood between her fingers.

“We need to go, now,” he hissed in her ear, dragging her back. She couldn't help the small bubble of laughter as he tugged them down the stairs, trying to avoid anyone stopping them. But that would have been too easy.

“I knew you weren't to be trusted. There is something about you, I know not what it is. Something in your eyes.” Lili turned to the old druid, arching an eyebrow and quirking a smile.

“Did you decide that before or after you tried to douse me with truth serum? I'm sure the ghosts of all those tieflings could have told you not to trust me.”

“Well, shit,” Astarion sighed, pressing his back against hers. “Now we have to kill all of them Lil, they aren't going to let us just leave.”

“Kill them all,” she giggled. “Isn't that just the best thing?”

[havealotonmymind]

Girls' Night

Summary: Finally free from Zariel’s rule, Karlach is determined to live the remainder of her life to the fullest. The first thing she wants to do? Hold a girls’ night with her fellow companions.

Rating: Teen and Up

Category: Astarion & Gale & Karlach & Lae'zel & Shadowheart & Tav & Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Karlach & Tav (Baldur's Gate), Karlach & Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate), Karlach & Lae'zel (Baldur's Gate), Minor Astarion/Named!Tav

Additional Tags:

Developing Friendships, Minor Astarion/Tav (Baldur's Gate), Party Banter, Girls' Night, Act 1 (Baldur's Gate 3), Act 1 Astarion Being Act 1 Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Fighter Tav (Baldur's Gate)

Also available on AO3!

I’ll probably say this about every one-shot I write for this series, but this is by far the most self-indulgent thing I’ve written. The whole fic is just unending party banter. The girls need more friendship moments together and I'm willing to provide lol.

Being really, truly free of the Hells was intoxicating. No lingering scent of sulfur on what little she owned? No demons? No Zariel? Gods, even the sight of weeds poking through the grass was enough to make her cry.

And to have a new group of friends to share that all with, too? Man, she had never felt luckier. They were an odd group that argued more than got along, but Karlach wouldn’t trade them for anything. All pretty decent people across the board. Even Astarion had his moments.

After a few days of traveling with them all, Karlach felt she had grown to know her companions pretty well. That called for some kind of celebration. One of the most sacred and cherished traditions in all of Faerûn.

“Hey, soldier, should we have a Girls’ Night?” Karlach asked, unable to contain her excitement mid-adventure. Well, adventure in the loosest sense of the word. Leviathala frowned down at their map trying to navigate while Astarion supplied unhelpfully vague directions over her shoulder. The two had been arguing back and forth for the better part of an hour.

Shadowheart latched onto Karlach’s suggestion with all the vigor of a drowning person clinging to a lifeboat. “Please. Anything to get them to stop talking.”

“Excuse me? I was helping!” Astarion said.

“Saying ‘let’s go over there’ and pointing at a random spot on the map is not helping, Astarion. And by the time I figure out where there even is, you change your mind anyway,” Leviathala snapped.

“You’re an adventurer, aren’t you? Have a little sense of, well, adventure.”

Leviathala’s bright blue eyes—brighter still against the stark black of her sclera—burned holes into him. She looked two seconds away from snapping his neck.

Karlach stepped in between them. “Hey now, come on! Lev, when was the last time you had a girls’ night, eh? A proper girls’ night! Shootin’ the shit, maybe a drink or two.”

“Yes, because there are such excellent taverns nearby,” Astarion scoffed. “Of course, there’s always Waukeen’s Rest! I hear the staff are all fired up to serve new customers.”

Lev coughed to hide a laugh. “Gods above, you’re terrible.”

“Morally yes, but you still laughed.”

“It was incredibly tasteless. Of course I laughed. At you, not with you, mind.”

“Charming as this banter is, the sun is going to set soon and I’d much rather have a full girls’ night instead of half of one,” Shadowheart butt in. “So let’s reconvene at camp, hm?”

Lev stashed her map away. “Fine. Lead on, then.”

Once they made their way back, Gale looked up from the cauldron where he was cooking their dinner. “Ah, you’ve all made it back in one piece, I see. Find any good herbs out there?”

Lev pinched the bridge of her nose. “Of course we forgot to get the one thing we set out for in the first place.”

His smile fell. “Well, at least I have some salt and pepper left.”

“Oh wait, I did grab some leafy things from a barrel. Stole it from the Zhentarim after we wiped ‘em out in their hideout. They smelled nice. Dunno if these are herbs, though,” Karlach said as she handed over a fistful of leafy stalks.

“Basil! Oh, thank Mystra. At least our food will taste halfway decent.” As he plucked and scattered the leaves into the stew, he added, “Might I also hope for some spices to go along with that basil?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to keep hoping. The spiciest thing we found today was smokepowder,” Lev said as she sat heavily on a log across from him. Karlach planted the smokepowder barrels next to their other supplies for emphasis.

“Ah. Still valuable, of course, but not exactly good for digestion.”

Even without all the usual spices at his disposal, Gale managed to make a fine meal indeed. None of their leftover food went to waste. Even the bones of last night’s boar helped to create a rich stock.

“Gale, you do astound me,” Wyll said. “How you manage to make a feast from scraps is a rare talent indeed.”

“Thank you. But I must ask, what did you eat in your time as the Blade of Frontiers?”

“Oh, mostly cured meats from game I hunted myself. When I have a quarry in my sights, I rarely have the time to sup as I would like.”

“Well, I’m glad my meager fare is to your liking, your grace.” Gale bowed his head and the others smirked over their bowls. Their recent run-in with Counsellor Florrick garnered a lot of teasing about his duke status that poor Wyll had yet to live down.

“Please, out here, I’m just Wyll.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve more than earned the Blade of Frontiers title. A set of horns isn’t going to change that.” Karlach moved as if to nudge his shoulder, then thought better of it at the last second. “And if anyone gives you any trouble about it, I’ll always stick by you, Wyll.”

His smile was a bright point in the dark. “Thank you, Karlach. That truly means a lot.”

They finished dinner not long after. Karlach took a few deep breaths to make sure she wouldn’t get too excited for the night ahead. The few girls’ nights she’d seen other clusters of friends host in the Gate always seemed like a good time. Of course, those were held in lively taverns or restaurants, but surely their group could make do out here.

“Yeah, well, it’s been fun, but I think it’s time you guys pop off. It’s girls’ night tonight.”

“What happened to ‘I’ll always stick by you, Wyll’?”

“You’ll be nearby. Us girls just need a bit of time to ourselves, though, so go on.” Karlach shooed the men away like one would an unruly pet caught chewing something it wasn’t supposed to.

Gale turned to Wyll as the two trailed off. “What are we gentlemen to do? Have our own boys’ night perhaps?”

“I doubt Astarion would be inclined to join any more group activities than are required of him.”

“Probably for the best.”

Without a common thread to keep them tethered, they simply drifted to their own tents for the night.

“Damn, it’s good to be alive!” Karlach fell against one of the bedrolls she set up by the campfire. It was a lovely night out. All the nights so far had been pretty damn lovely. The faint scent of damp earth, the rustling trees—all of it fresh and healthy and alive.

How had she never noticed how much life there was on the surface before now? Even the wind flowing through her hair felt like a living thing, winding soft fingers through and around the strands like it was trying to weave an intricate braid.

Shadowheart smiled briefly. “So you’ve said. Many times, I might add.”

“And it’s true every time!” Karlach sat right back up again. “When people tell you to stop and smell the flowers every now and then, they aren’t joking.”

Leviathala curled her legs and tail in towards her. “You’re telling me. It’s been so long since I’ve been outside the city. I’d forgotten how big the world truly is.”

“Right? There’s so much up top. I want to see it all!”

“I’ve been trying to keep an eye out for this gith crèche Lae’zel keeps mentioning,” Leviathala said. “So far, no luck.”

“Where is Lae’zel, anyway? I haven’t seen her since we came back.”

The sound of metal steadily clanking closer drew their attention. Lae’zel marched up to them in full plate-armor, helmet and all. “I am ready.”

Karlach raised an eyebrow. “Uh, what’s all that for?”

“Astarion informed me of the long-honored Faerûnian custom of Girls’ Night. I am merely prepared to undertake the trials ahead.” She scanned over the other women in their casual nightwear and frowned. “Why are you all so woefully unprepared?”

It was only when Leviathala failed to hide her laughter did it finally hit her.

Lae'zel lowered her longsword. “So, I assume Astarion has lied to me, then.”

“You can take all that off. Relax! Let your hair down!” Karlach patted the spare bedroll next to her.

Lae’zel scowled but shed her armor and sat all the same. “Chk! I will keep my hair as it is lest it get in my way. Perhaps Leviathala had the right idea in trimming away the excess.”

“Oh, I cut my hair myself.” Lev fluffed out the choppy dark strands with a proud smile.

Shadowheart threw her a pitying look. “It shows.”

At Lev’s frown, Karlach gave an uneasy laugh. “Hey, come on now! I think it looks great. A lot softer than my hair, anyway. Can’t do a thing with it when my hands are constantly on fire.”

Shadowheart made a face. “So it didn’t used to be that…crunchy?”

“I’m gonna ignore you calling it crunchy so my engine doesn’t explode on you.”

“Sorry, brittle. Is that better?”

“It was a lot curlier when I was younger,” Karlach said, ignoring her. “My mum almost drove herself to tears trying to get it together for parties. Didn’t help that I always wanted to go roughhouse instead of sit still. I was a right menace as a kid.”

“Sounds about right. I imagine curly hair looks nice on you, actually,” Shadowheart relented.

“What about you, Shadowheart? I’ve never seen your hair out of that neat braid. I bet you’ve got really gorgeous hair.” Karlach scooted as close as she dared.

Shadowheart flipped the braid back over her shoulder, preening. “Naturally. And as dark as the night, too.”

“Is this all a Girls’ Night entails?” Lae’zel snapped. “Encouraging each other’s vanity?”

“I mean, sometimes, but right now, we’re just talking. Warming up, getting to know each other.” Karlach rolled her shoulders like she was gearing for a fight. “Gotta stretch out the ol’ social skills again if we’re gonna be traveling together, right?”

“This is a waste of my time. I’m leaving.”

Before she could stalk back to her tent, Karlach yelled, “Boooo! Give it a chance, Lae’zel! We haven’t even gotten to the best part yet!”

Lev and Shadowheart exchanged a glance before looking expectantly at Lae’zel. Much as the gith tried to play stoic and untouchable, her desire to know more about this Plane far outshone that stubborn streak of hers.

“Very well. This had better be worth it.” She knelt on the bedroll Karlach had laid out for her, strategically placed furthest away from Shadowheart.

“So, of everyone in our camp…” Karlach held up three fingers. “Who would you snog, marry, or kill?”

Both Lev and Shadowheart groaned while Lae’zel merely blinked.

“Gods, I haven’t played that since I was twelve,” Lev said, barely holding back a chuckle.

“Ah, ah! Answer the question, Lev!”

“Me? Why me first?”

“Because you’re the first one to talk! Why else?” Karlach said.

When Lev waved her away, she only leaned in closer. “Come on, Lev! Just pick three of us! Could even be one of us three.”

“Oh? In that case, I would kill Shadowheart,” Lae’zel said without hesitation.

Shadowheart scowled. “The feeling is mutual, gith. You’re lucky Lev stepped in the last time I tried to kill you or I would have slaughtered you in your sleep.”

Lae’zel immediately drew a dagger. “Try your luck and see where such talk will lead, istik. I will not hesitate to put you in your place this time.”

“Girls, girls, come on! Can you stop antagonizing each other for like two minutes?” Karlach sighed. “I just wanna have a little fun with my new mates. Is it really so much to ask for you two to calm down for a night?”

Lae’zel and Shadowheart glared at one another for a moment longer before settling back in their respective bedrolls.

“I will honor this Girls’ Night by quelling my fury. Do not expect it to last into the morning,” Lae’zel sniffed.

An awkward smile crept along Karlach’s lips. She had to get this girls’ night going properly or it’d all fall apart. “R-Right, so kiss, marry, kill. Who wants to go first?”

Lev took a long sip of water, pointedly avoiding eye contact. Shadowheart and Lae’zel both refused to look at the other, instead glaring off into different points in the distance.

“Fine. I’ll go then!” Karlach grumbled. Better to lead by example and all that. “Snog Astarion. Marry either Wyll or Shadowheart. Probably Wyll. My heart fluttered when he went against Mizora for me. I’ll never forget that. Kill…wait, hold on…”

“No, you started it. Now finish it,” Shadowheart said. “Go on. Tell us which one of us you’d kill given the choice.”

“Aw, that’s not fair! I just met you all like a tenday ago!”

“And yet here you are potentially offering me your arm in marriage.” Shadowheart shook her head. “And you haven’t even taken me out for dinner. I haven’t met your parents yet, either. Surely, we’d want their blessing first.”

Ah man. She really was someone to take home to the folks. If they were still alive, no doubt they’d find Shadowheart just as endearing as Karlach did.

Still, that wasn’t really something you told a tentative friend. She scooted just a little closer to her githyanki companion. “Lae’zel? What about you?”

Lae’zel scowled and she almost backed away. Maybe she thought this all too childish. Giths were pretty vicious from what little she knew about them. What if she thought all this was beneath her or something?

“Snogging is…sex, yes?” she began uneasily.

“Er, no, it’s more just…kissing. Y’know, making out?”

Lev almost spat out her water trying not to laugh. “I’m pretty sure there isn’t a gith equivalent to making out, Karlach.”

Lae’zel frowned. “This ‘making out’ is equivalent to snogging, then? Another word for a kiss?”

Bless her for trying, at least.

“Well, deeper kissing,” Lev offered.

“Sometimes with tongue,” Karlach supplied with a cheeky grin.

This time, Lev did spit out her water.

“Very well. I have made my choice.” Lae’zel’s eyes swept over their camp. “If you forced me under threat of death to snog any of our companions, I would choose you, Karlach. I believe you are best suited for the type of kissing I desire.”

Karlach’s grin only grew. “I’m flattered, thanks!”

“As for marriage, Wyll is the best choice by far. He is the most accustomed to this adventuring lifestyle and has more important political ties to this Baldur’s Gate than any of you. He is a worthy ally to have at my side.”

“Hey now, this isn’t something to take that seriously—”

“As for killing, well, if Shadowheart were no longer an option, then there is always Astarion.”

Karlach laughed. Even in silly games like this, Lae’zel gave it her all. “Wyll’s pretty popular, huh?”

“He was my choice for marry, too,” Lev piped up. “As for kill, I’d also choose Astarion. He wanted to kill me the first time we met, so it seems fair.”

“And who’re you snogging? Is it any of us?” Karlach gasped. “Is it Gale?”

“No, that’s all you’re getting from me.”

“Come on! That’s boring!”

“You never chose who you’d kill! Don’t come after me for not picking someone to kiss!”

“Why? Is the person you’d kiss someone embarrassing?” Shadowheart asked. The tiny glint in her eyes spelled mischief.

“No! I just…” Lev rolled her wrist uselessly. “Well, I’m not generally interested in that sort of thing until I get to know someone a lot more first.”

“But you do have someone in mind. I can sense it. That’s why you’re being so dodgy.” Shadowheart’s eyes roamed over the camp. Gale was preoccupied with organizing spell scrolls into everyone’s packs. Wyll fenced against a wooden dummy. Astarion stood farther off than the rest, engrossed in some book he’d pilfered from an old temple they raided not long ago.

“Being a cleric of Lady Shar has granted me far more wisdom into the darkness in others’ hearts than most,” she said. “In your heart of hearts, I know who lies at the center.”

Lev’s jaw tightened, her shoulders bunched together like she was about to bolt.

“It’s Withers, isn’t it?”

Lev blinked at her owlishly then both she and Karlach burst out laughing. The sound rang clear throughout the forest, a chorus that sent a few nearby birds flying.

“I never knew you were this funny, Shadowheart. You always seem so serious all the time!” Karlach said as she leaned back on her hands.

“I’m hilarious. Once you get to know me, that is.”

“Yes, well, once you get some alcohol into me, I might be more inclined to tell you all the truth,” Lev said. All three women immediately shoved the nearest bottles of wine they could towards her.

“Wow, okay, give me a minute to recover. Gods…”

“So, Shadowheart? Snog, marry, kill?” Karlach asked before she slung back a few gulps of Amnian Dessert Wine. The sweeter stuff wasn’t really to her taste, but being picky never got anyone anywhere good. Better to try all the new things she could while she had the chance.

“Hm, well, you all know I’d kill Lae’zel. Kiss…maybe Lev or Gale. They have very…soft-looking lips.” She gave Lev a quick once-over. “As for marriage, if any of you wish to open your hearts to Lady Shar—”

“Erm, hard pass,” Karlach said.

“Sorry, but no,” Lev replied.

“I serve but one deathless goddess: Vlaakith and Vlaakith alone.”

“Right, so, barring the usual religious factors, I’d probably marry Karlach. You look like you could take care of me properly. More so than any other person I’ve met so far.” Her eyes slid slyly to Lev. “No offense.”

“I wasn’t offended until you said that. But thanks, I guess.”

Karlach felt the engine in her chest burn just a tad hotter. “Fuck yes, I could take care of you! Trust Mama K to handle everything from here on out!”

“Of course. So long as you don’t expect me to call you Mama K. Karlach suits you just fine.” Shadowheart smiled from over her bottle of wine. “Now, who would you kill? Go on.”

“I’ll tell only if Lev says who she wants to kiss.”

“Er, we can’t both go at the same time. Which would you rather hear first?” Lev tilted her head towards Karlach, clearly indicating who she preferred.

“Snog, obviously!” Karlach said.

Shadowheart smirked. “Oh, yes, kiss first, please. This is the far more interesting option.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Lev said and downed the rest of her wine.

“Come on, Lev! Tell us!” Karlach said.

“Do tell. Then we can finally move on from this inane game and onto the best part Karlach has planned,” Lae’zel pointed out.

Karlach tried not to betray the fact that all she had planned next was several rounds of Truth or Dare or Strip Talis until they all passed out for the night. Whatever Lae’zel’s idea of a good time was, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Lev sighed and waved them all closer at last. They all leaned in, straining to hear as she cupped both hands around her mouth.

“Astarion.”

Karlach blinked. “What? But you said you wanted to kill him!”

“Kill, snog…same thing at the end of the day.” Lev shrugged. “They both teach you how to empty yourself for someone. Love and hate ride a fine line or…something.”

“Wait, you can’t choose the same person for two different answers. That hardly seems fair,” Shadowheart said.

“Fine. Snog Gale then. Happy?”

“Nah, nah, hold on, soldier. I wanna know why you were so dodgy about answering. You got a crush on him, right?”

“Gods, we really are reverting back to teenagers, aren’t we?” Lev sighed. “Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. I already slept with him.”

Their collective gasps and screams of scandalized delight echoed for miles.

“No fucking way! Lev, you sly minx!” Karlach smacked the ground hard as she laughed. Blackened scorch marks in the shape of her hand torched the soil she touched.

Shadowheart covered her mouth with a hand. “You didn’t! Oh, Lev…”

“To think, you chose some malnourished parasite over me,” Lae’zel sniffed. “I don’t know if your refusal should be my shame or yours.”

“Wait, when? Were you drunk? Is that why?” Karlach asked, engine still pounding away to keep up with her excitement. Who knew quiet Lev had it in her?

“Er…”

“Whoa, you did him sober? On purpose?”

Lev covered her face with her hands. “Karlach, not so loud…”

“I was just teasing before, but damn, you really do like him, don’t you?”

Shadowheart smirked. “I never had any doubt. You two are always pushing one another’s buttons. It’s painful watching you sometimes.”

“It’s not as if I’m slinging horrid lines at him like he does with everyone else.”

“No, but what was it you said earlier? There’s a fine line between love and hate? Underneath all your insults and arguing, I’d wager you might be a little in love with him.”

“How presumptuous of you.” Lev stared off into the distance. “He asked me, by the way. It was a mutual agreement. He was probably just bored. It won’t happen again.”

A breezy sigh from behind them made Karlach sit straighter. They all glanced back to see Astarion hovering just a couple feet away. “Look, as charming as it is to hear you all gossip away within earshot of my tent, it is getting to be rather late.”

“Wait, what could you hear?” Lev asked, sounding a touch panicked.

“Nothing specific. Just noise. So I suggest you keep it down.” The edges of their silence caught his attention. “Why? Are you gossiping about the other two? Because if so, I want to join in.”

“Well, Karlach wanted a Girls’ Night, so I don’t think—”

Karlach felt the edges of her mind being nudged by Shadowheart. She tried to repress a shudder. All this tadpole-sharing business still took some getting used to.

Let him stay. I want to see where this goes, Shadowheart thought, throwing them all a sly smile. We can all make fun of him if he ends up crossing a line.

“No, no, he can stay for a bit,” Karlach said out loud. “Say, Astarion. If you could kiss anyone in camp right now, who would it be?”

He snorted. “Is this what your drunken rabble has been reduced to? Gods, that’s something ten year olds dabble in.”

Shadowheart smirked. “Funny, that’s almost exactly what Lev said.”

“And she’s right. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“So you have kissed someone at camp then?” she pressed. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Astarion faltered. “I was talking about kissing in general. I wouldn’t kiss any of you if you paid me.”

“Wow, that’s cold. I think quite a few of us are pretty kissable,” Karlach said. “Take Lev, for instance. She’s real cute, isn’t she?”

She tried not to laugh as Lev threw her an absolutely murderous look.

Much to her surprise, Astarion crooned, “Oh, dear Karlach. Does someone have a crush?”

“What? Not me! I was, er, I mean, Lev is cute! But I…or rather, you…”

“Because I’d advise against pursuing it,” he cut in impatiently. “Best take care that damned infernal engine of yours doesn’t explode under the pressure.”

“Hey! I’ve kept it intact for near-on ten years now. I can handle hanging around a cute girl or three.”

Astarion merely scoffed. “Yes, well, better to assuage your excitement now so we can all get our beauty rest. Gods know you need it.”

Lev flushed and stared at the dirt.

Okay, that was enough.

“Put a cork in it, Fancy Boy,” Karlach snapped. “If anything, you need it most. Those frown lines are really unbecoming, darling.”

“What? I don’t have…” He ran quick fingertips between his furrowed eyebrows. “I need to go.”

Astarion swept back to his tent, distraught in the wake of their laughter.

“Yeah, I can see what you like about him. He’s such a catch.” Karlach smiled conspiratorially at Lev. “Honestly, though, I can’t blame you. I’d ride that elf all night if I could.”

“Karlach!”

“He’s arrogant, a liar, and a pretty idiot,” Shadowheart added. “So yes, I’d imagine that’s why most people would fall in love with someone like him.”

Lae’zel made a face. “Beauty in itself is hardly a valuable trait. Especially when it so commonly fades with time.”

“Well, he is a vampire. At least his only redeeming quality will remain preserved.” Shadowheart shrugged. “Can’t say much about the rest of him, though.”

Lev sputtered, “I just like looking at him, is all.”

“Oh no, soldier, that’s how it starts, you know,” Karlach said. “Those longing looks are just the beginning. Next, it’s daydreaming about him and finding more excuses to talk to him—”

“Believe me, holding a conversation with him is the last thing I—”

“And trying desperately to get his attention,” Shadowheart said. “Don’t forget that one.”

“I don’t want his attention!”

“Ah, that’s all part of step one. Denial. You got it bad.” Karlach grinned. It’d been a while since she could grill someone like this without having to worry about being punished for it.

“There’s nothing to have. Besides, you want to snog him, too. Why am I the only one being made fun of?”

“I don’t know. You were the one who slept with him. You tell us.”

Shadowheart grimaced. “Actually, don’t tell us. I really don’t care to know.”

“How dull of you,” Lae’zel said. “I didn’t realize followers of Shar were so prudish considering the many depraved things that can happen in darkness.”

Leviathala choked back a laugh. “She has a point.”

“Huh. That’s the last time I defend you, then,” Shadowheart joked as she downed her cup of wine.

They spent the rest of the night falling into more drunk antics. “Never Have I Ever” devolved into a drinking competition of sorts between Karlach and Lae’zel that teetered on the dangerous as they both downed shot after shot, all while confessing horrible acts they committed in war. It was Shadowheart, of all people, who knocked back the least amount of shots purely due to her memory issues.

Then, as all childish sleepovers are wont to do, came “Truth or Dare”. That was quickly cut short the moment Lae’zel dared Shadowheart to a duel to the death. An all-out brawl was imminent. That was, until Lev stepped up to bat the sword of Lae’zel’s hand. “Enough! All of you stop it and go to bed!”

When they all simply stared at her, she added, “Now! What would your goddesses have to say about you engaging in such petty squabbles?”

Lae’zel scowled but conceded the point. Shadowheart merely sniffed and headed back to her tent to isolate herself from the riffraff. Girls’ night was officially over, but Karlach couldn’t complain. Her party was a riot, and all of them at the very least took the games seriously. Her comrades in the Hells (all of whom barely warranted the name) would often ignore her attempts at camaraderie or friendship. The only times she ever got along with any of them was when they were killing demons or ragging on each other.

Leviathala sat on one of the bedrolls Karlach had set up by the campfire, staring into the flames.

“You’re not heading back to your tent?” Karlach asked, taking a seat on the bedroll next to hers.

Lev offered her a small smile. “And leave you all alone? That’d be a sad way to end girls’ night, don’t you think?”

Karlach chuckled to herself. “I’d hug you if I wasn’t afraid of burning your…everything off.”

“I’m sure you could get a quick one in without doing too much damage. I’m not naturally fire-resistant for nothing, you know,” Lev teased. “Besides, you’ll be able to hug and touch people again soon. Whenever we run into Dammon, I’m sure he’ll have some good news for you.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be something? But for now, I don’t wanna think about it,” she sighed. “No good to get my hopes up when we don’t even know if it’s possible yet.”

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Karlach tossed another two logs onto the crackling embers of the dying fire.

“Do you need this?” Leviathala asked suddenly, holding out a thin vial of some clear liquid.

“What’s that?”

“Seed oil. For my horns. I bought a lot from that halfling druid in the Grove a while ago. I’ve been lending some of my stash to Wyll and showing him how to apply it, but I don’t think I ever asked you if you wanted some.”

Karlach glanced up at Leviathala’s own light blue horns curling up towards the sky like spiring towers. They were very carefully maintained, the tips dulled to more rounded points.

By contrast, her own were rough and worn. One of them had been broken off in a particularly nasty battle against a cambion that had casually insulted Zariel offhand. The archdevil sent Karlach to deal with it alone. By the time she returned, bruised and battered after slaying it and all its minions, Zariel tossed her right back onto the frontlines without so much as a short rest to heal up. Complaining about it after only earned her a dozen lashings and yet another sleepless night.

Karlach took the seed oil vial carefully in between forefinger and thumb, hoping whatever heat residing in her hands wouldn’t cause the cool glass to burst.

She knew she had lost quite a bit of her old life under Zariel’s service, but this was not something she even realized she missed. Karlach had grown too used to the ache of her horns growing out without anything to ease the pain. Just another misery to tack onto a long list serving under an archdevil.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice.

“No problem. Let me know if you need any more. I have it all covered.”

“Right.”

It had been a long time since anyone had been so kind to her without expecting anything in return. Karlach found a lump growing in her throat and she blinked. Did being up on the surface really make her this soft already?

“Hey, soldier?” she said just to shake it off.

Lev shifted on her bedroll. “Hm?”

“Thanks for tonight. Really. It means a lot to me that you all tried to make it work.”

“Of course. I just hope next girls’ night won’t end in violence.”

“Next girls’ night?” A spark of hope lit in her chest.

“I don’t know when that would be, though,” Lev continued. “Hopefully Lae’zel and Shadowheart will have calmed down by the time we do get around to it. This was really fun before they got into it. Again.”

Karlach stared down at the vial in her hand, trying her hardest not to tear up. Gods, could she really afford to hope for a future? Was it okay for her to do that again?

A couple tears stubbornly spilled over and she swatted them away impatiently.

She glanced over at where Leviathala laid. “Soldier, you still awake?”

“Hm?” Lev’s eyes almost glowed in the dark. “Yeah, you okay?”

“Fine, just…” Karlach took a deep breath, clutching onto the seed oil vial tight. “Love you.”

The silence that followed ate at her. True, they hardly knew each other well enough to say stuff like that, but surely Leviathala understood where the urgency came from.

“Love you too, soldier,” Leviathala said, something like a smile in her voice. “Good night.”

“Yeah, night.”

Karlach stared up at the canopy of stars above her. A streak of bright light shot across and she closed her eyes, wishing with everything within her that this party of hers would never break apart. A childish, vain hope perhaps. But how long had it been since anyone fought tooth and nail for her? It would’ve been so easy to just let Wyll kill her upon first meeting, but they’d advocated for her—a tiefling they didn’t even know.

She laid on her side, staring at the little seed oil vial like it held all the most precious secrets in the world. Up here, with these people at her side, she could dare to hope. She could dream again, breathe free again.

Karlach took a deep breath and popped the cork.

[goodluckdetective]

TUMBLR VERSION

FIC: SLEEPING GIANTS 1/2

Ship: Durge/Astarion

Fandom: BG3

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore

Rating: M

AO3

Summary: 

Astarion earns his freedom covered in Cazador’s blood. The Former Chosen of Bhaal earns their freedom drowning in their own. A look at two different aftermaths of breaking free.

Notes:

Hello and welcome to whatever this is. Like one part “the horror of being controlled and falling in love with someone who knows that same horror” one part “you can kill the puppeteer but the scars from the strings don’t leave as soon as you cut them” one part “the game doesn’t have time for a long introspection after these two big scenes but that’s why fanfic writers exist” and one part “uses durge and Astarion as character foils and enjoys the light bouncing back and forth.” The background ships are very background which is why they aren’t in the main tags. The title comes from the Crane Wives Song of the same name. This is two chapters but each can be read on their own. The second chapter I'm aiming to have up in like two weeks max? (I also want to shoutout edelgarfield's series "cardinal, sunrise, morning star" which gave me the idea to do the Urge sections in second person. It's fantastic and you should read it.)

FIC BELOW:

Ever since Rune heard the name Cazador Starr, they’d thought about killing him.

It was a nice use of channeling the Urge when it got bad, turning the desire to tear and maim onto a worthy target. Rune had pictured casting hold monster to hold the man in place while they’d cast lightning bolt right between Starr’s eyes. They’d considered using insect plague and watching as bugs tore the man apart piece by piece as he screamed for death that wouldn’t come. Once they’d learned how to cast Daylight, they’d smiled at the mental image of forcing the vampire lord to stick his head directly into the sphere.

Like Rune’s other urges, they resisted acting on them (though they did relish casting Daylight right in front of Starr’s face). But that resistance was only so Astarion could get the kill instead. It was his to have; Rune was not going to take it from him unless they were asked to.

(If Astarion had died, if you had failed to get him free before the dark ritual completed, then Cazador Starr would be dead by your hand. You would ensure he lived long enough to know the agony he deserved. You’d kept Bonedaughter’s notes about what she’d done to you, back in Moonrise. One could get very clever with torture when someone refused to die. You thought of taking inspiration from the kennels, when you’d looked at the history of your lover’s suffering and saw potential instead-)

Rune pushed the thought out of their head and shook off the sneer that started to creep across their face. They had to keep it together, keep the Urge under lock and key. Astarion, who was currently covered in the blood of his 200 year nightmare, could not afford for Rune to lose it. 

They watched as Astarion wept on the stone tiles, wanting to embrace him but knowing it might not be wanted. Instead, they stepped close enough so if Astarion desired, he could easily reach out and touch them. They didn’t get a chance to see what he would choose because the rest of Astarion’s siblings came to greet them. As the matter of settling the spawn was resolved and the fate of the Gur’s children revealed, Rune spoke only to clarify events and back up whatever Astarion decided. It wasn’t until they made it out of the palace that they said anything somewhat resembling an order, and even then, they chose each word with care.

“We can call it a day after this if people need it,” Rune said, looking at Astarion. Everyone needed the rest, they were all exhausted, but Rune would not force such a thing. Should Astarion wish to keep going, Rune would send Shadowheart and Karlach back to camp before sharing a list of tasks that were mostly errands, but essential ones; buying potions, collecting materials. Things Astarion could do with shaky hands and an unsteady step. He wasn’t physically hurt, Shadowheart had ensured that. Should Astarion need to keep busy, to put off the part of the day where he could sit down and take it all in, then Rune would ensure he had it. 

Rune was well practiced quieting their own loud thoughts with busywork.

Astarion agreed to the rest, and Rune mentally filled away their list of busy tasks for later. Instead, the party headed back to the Elfsong where they had decided to set up camp ever since Astarion’s siblings tried to drag him back. It wasn’t as good as a private residence, but vampires would still need to be invited into their rooms should they wish to enter, and that was far better security than the open air. With Cazador dead, they could save some coin by camping outside again, but Rune knew Astarion would want some privacy, and that was better obtained in their shared rooms. 

As they approached the Elfsong, Rune took a look at their partner. Astarion had put his armor back on, but he was still drenched in blood. That would draw some attention, even in a place used to mercenaries. 

Back in the mansion, between freeing the spawn and running into the Gur,  Rune had handed him each piece of armor after Astarion asked for them. They watched as Astarion struggled to secure the clasps and resisted the urge to help, knowing they needed Astarion to ask for their assistance first, less they bring back memories Astarion wished he could forget.

“Shadowheart, Karlach, go ahead,” Rune said. Karlach tilted her head, and when Rune nodded, she grabbed Shadowheart’s shoulder. They departed inside the tavern, Karlach pulling the door behind her so it didn’t slam shut. Astarion didn’t even notice them leave. Frankly, he didn’t seem to notice anything at all, a wide eyed blank expression to his face that Rune was horribly familiar with.  Rune reached for the clasps on their cloak and released it from their armor, before holding it out to Astarion. He turned to look at them, but that vacant expression was still there, like he was looking through Rune rather than at them.

“To hide the blood a bit, until we get to our rooms,” Rune explained, lifting the cloak higher. “So people don’t stare.” They would have cast invisibility on him, but they’d burned through most of their energy entering the mansion and fighting Cazador. If they knew it wouldn’t upset Astarion later, they would overextend themselves and cast it anyway.

(You cast far more spells than you should have, hoping for a brief glimpse of fear on Cazador’s face when your lightning bolt tore through his assembled minions. You’d hoped he knew what you were, you saw the book in his chambers after all; he’d been reading about Bhalspawn. Would he know what he’d brought down upon himself, for treating Astarion as a stain on his shoe? Would he realize you were the most dangerous thing in his manor turned tomb? )

Astarion’s gaze sharped and he took a quick breath in, like he’d been rapidly thrust back into his body from wherever he’d mentally gone. Rune forced themself away from the Urge in tandem. He took the cloak and wrapped it around himself, putting up the hood. It was a little large on him, Rune was taller than the vampire by half a foot, but in these circumstances, that was ideal. Rune heard him mumble something that sounded like a thank you. 

He didn’t need to thank them: not for this. Rune held out a hand, should Astarion want to grab it, and when he didn’t, lowered it without comment.

“Let’s go straight to the room. Follow me.”

The Elfsong was loud and boisterous at this hour, people settling in for the evening. A bard played a jaunty tune on their fiddle on one of the stages and Rune briefly wanted to smash their instrument for daring to be so cheerful. No one paid them much mind as they went directly to the stairs and headed up to the rooms on the second floor. The room to the main suite was open and Rune glanced at everyone as they walked inside. Everyone else was crammed inside the small space, almost comically so, paying attention to Shadowheart who was talking in a low whisper. Likely explaining what happened in the depths of the Starr palace. 

Rune walked past the group, shaking their head at everyone inside before Astarion followed behind them. Their room was close to the entrance and Rune closed the door behind Astarion as soon as he was inside.

“Alright, we’re here.” Rune took a look at the tiny room and their gaze went instantly to the wooden bathtub in the far right corner. It was an extra cost to obtain at the Elfsong, but given everyone hadn’t had a proper bath in weeks, it was worth the coin. Rune didn’t really get much out of baths, they didn’t find the way of bathing relaxing with the Urge constantly humming in the background, but they understood how it might be appealing to someone who didn’t deal with their particular affliction. They turned back to Astarion. He wasn’t quite looking through everything anymore, but he still seemed lost, his gaze darting all over the room.

“If you want, I can run you a bath. For the blood.” Rune regretted the addition as soon as it left their mouth. What else would the bath be for? Stupid, stupid. “Would you like that?”

Astarion snapped his head up to look at them. When he spoke, his tone was as sharp as his fangs. “I can run my own bath, I’m not an invalid.”

Rune expected this at some point; the deflection, the attempt to hide away his own wounds by lashing out at others. They didn’t take the bait, instead focusing on their main point. 

“That’s not an answer.”

The fight drained out of Astarion in an instant. His shoulders drooped, a sigh escaping his lips. He looked so very tired. 

“Yes, you may,” he said and with that, Rune got to work.

The wooden tubs at the Elfsong were enchanted, which Rune suspected was why they had such a high rental price. By activating the cantrips on the side, one could fill or empty the tub with water without going to the task of bringing water up from the kitchen. Heating said water was another matter, and for that, Rune’s magical powers would suffice. They stuck their hand into the water once it filled the tub and cast Prestidigitation. Steam came off the top of the surface, not hot enough to burn but enough to be pleasant, and they removed their hand, wiping off the excess water onto their robes. When they turned to Astarion, he’d already peeled himself out of his armor, but his smallclothes remained. Rune gestured to the tub.

“Alright, it should be fine.” They got back onto their feet and took a step away from the tub. “I can wait outside if you want, or go downstairs.”

Rune would prefer to stay, if this was their decision to make. Not to gaze at Astarion’s body, but to be able to remind themselves that he was alive, that the ritual had failed. 

There was a moment, back at the manor, when Rune thought it was all over. When they’d looked to their side to see Astarion gone, suddenly across the room in the same hellish bindings as his fellow spawn. In that instant, before Astarion screamed at them to free him, they’d feared the ritual was done, that Cazador had succeeded. That all that would remain of a man who responded to their heritage with empathy and stole them extra ink for their journal was their memories and the cruel visage of Cazador Starr. 

No, Rune would rather stay. Here, they could easily remind themselves how things had actually gone. But should Astarion want them to go, they would. They would walk downstairs, order a pint of ale, and rely on their faulty memory to remind them.

Astarion walked over to the tub and poked the surface of the water. It rippled, and he looked down in it, like he thought he could see his own reflection if he waited long enough. After a moment, he looked back to Rune.

“Stay?”

Rune nodded and went to pull over a chair to sit in as Astarion fully undressed and got in the water. Before they sat down, they grabbed Astarion’s armor and pulled it over to the chair. After they were seated, they got started casting prestidigitation on Astarion’s armor. The blood came off easily enough and when they were done, they looked up at the vampire. Astarion was sitting in the tub, knees curled up to his chest, and wiping blood off his arms. It turned the water a light pink.

“Want me to talk or no?” Rune offered, noting a distant look creeping back into Astarion’s eyes. 

“Talk. Please not about-“ Astarion cut off, shuddering. “Anything else.”

Rune wracked their brain for an appropriate topic. Anything related to the Gortash, Bhaal or the Elder Brain was a bad idea. Magical theory could work, Rune was picking up a bit from Gale, but they would rather not bore Astarion to death. After some consideration between choosing one of Volo’s stories to mock (potentially fun, but then they’d have to go to the effort to remember one of his stories) or Rune’s thoughts on the decor of the Elfsong (alright, but Shar’s temple and the Goblin’s base had set the bar low), they finally stumbled upon something with potential. 

“I’ve been trying to convince Gale to let me be his wingman if he decides he wants to get back out there,” Rune mused. They knew they had the perfect topic when Astarion snorted, bubbles coming up on the tub. The conversation of Gale’s post-Mystra rebound was a topic of the camp, and for good reason; Gale seemed to have finally realized his former relationship with the Goddess wasn’t a healthy one. Recently Wyll saw him trying to flirt with another wizard from Sorcerous Sundries, use of illusions included. Given the amount of dark topics that dominated camp these days, the party had jumped to gossip over such low stakes. 

Gale thankfully didn’t mind and appeared a combination of amused and touched by their collective interest in his happiness. He’d indulged them by offering to consider letting one of them play wingman and Lae’zel, Wyll and Rune had all jumped at the opportunity. Wyll had offered because he was deeply enamored with true love and romance. Rune had offered because they hated Mystra. 

Lae’zel had offered because Astarion bribed her with a nice amount of gold pieces to throw her hat in the ring. That, and she was determined to prove that her direct “I want to taste you” approach did actually work on more than just Shadowheart. 

“So far, he seems to be favoring Wyll’s pitch,” Rune continued, leaning back in the chair. It felt nice to relax somewhat. They hadn’t realized how tense they’d been sitting until then. “He wants to take Gale to a local bar favored by mages around here, which I will admit, isn’t a bad idea.”

Astarion hummed. He was no longer curled into a ball, instead scrubbing away the blood on his torso. 

“But if I can convince Karlach to tell me where she used to go after working out, I think I might manage to change his mind.” Convincing Karlach to do so would be difficult, Rune thought, as she was unofficially on Wyll’s team. But Rune wasn’t above bribery and they’d managed to loot a rather shiny greataxe that they thought might loosen her lips. 

“You think he’s looking for someone muscular?”

“Did you hear what he said about “invigorating stimulation” back when we were fighting those goblins? If he’s looking for that kind of “stimulation” then Karlach’s old haunts are the best bet.”

Astarion chuckled and Rune hid their grin by ducking their head down. It wasn’t his full laugh, Rune didn’t expect to hear that after the day he’d had, but Gods it was nice to see him smile and mean it. 

They continued like that, talking about other silly gossip, until Astarion was done. Rune threw him a towel and watched his eyebrows raise as he pressed his hand into the fabric.

“Did you warm this towel?”

Rune had, using prestidigitation a few seconds earlier. They’d gotten the idea from Wyll, who back at Last Light, had given out freshly warm blankets to those they’d freed from Moonrise Towers after their prison break. Rune took note of how the prisoners seemed to relax as they touched the warm fabric. Interesting how  such small comforts still provided solace after such terrible cruelty. 

“Too much?”

Astarion was already wrapping it around himself.  “No, it’s perfect.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another and looked to Rune with a conflicted expression. “I need some time to think.”  

Rune got up and headed towards the door. Astarion had gone through a lot today and Rune knew what it was like to have a lot on the mind. “No problem. I’ll be around if you need me. You can use the tadpole if it’s an emergency.”

Astarion relaxed and nodded once. Satisfied he would call for them if needed, Rune left the room and closed the door behind them. The rest of their companions were still in the main suite living space and they all turned to Rune as they left. They’d clearly been hovering; the book in Gale’s lap was one Rune knew he already read twice over and if Lae’zel kept sharpening that dagger, it might chip. 

Rune adored them all. Despite all their respective burdens, all of them were happy to make a detour to take down Cazador. It was the same with saving Wyll’s father or helping Shadowheart find her parents or potentially breaking into Hell for Lae’zel.  They all cared.

If this was what having a family felt, like no wonder people were so found of theirs.  

“How’s Fangs?” Karlach asked, fiddling her thumbs together. Rune walked forward and shrugged. 

“Processing; he asked for some time alone. Now,” they reached into their pockets and pulled out their journal, opening it up to where they kept a ribbon as a bookmark. “Let’s talk about supplies and inventory.”

The resounding groan from the rest of the party was a welcome sign of normalcy.

__________

After an hour and a half of debating what to sell and what to keep, shortly followed by dinner, Rune headed downstairs to the first floor of the tavern. They would have normally stuck to the rooms, content with the company, but they couldn’t stop looking at the door to their own room and fretting about the vampire inside. So to alleviate their temptation to hover, they instead put their journal back in their pocket, grabbed one of their lighter bags, and decided to try some of the Elfsong’s famous ale. 

They walked to the bar and took a seat, gesturing to the bartender and ordered said ale, which the bartender dutifully delivered moments later. After taking a sip, Rune closed their eyes, and took in the noise of the tavern. It was nice, they thought, to sometimes be surrounded by the hum of life. They could hear two men arguing about a business deal away from the bar. Somewhere to their left, a woman was flirting with someone and if the lack of response was any indication, failing rather miserably at it. The sound of a lute warming up to play rang from the stage where the bard was seated.

( You knew so many ways strings could be used for more interesting means. Garrotting, tying up prey, even cutting flesh if held tight enough. )

Rune kept drinking. The Urge was always there, and the more they focused on it, the worse it would get. It was best to just acknowledge its presence like an unwelcome houseguest and continue on with everything. They took another sip of their ale, trying to pinpoint the flavor. It tasted a little floral. Karlach was right; it was rather good compared to what they’d had on the road.

(I t would be so easy to kill everyone here. You could do it in an instant. Circle of Death is such a fantastic spell for wrecking ruin in such cramped spaces.)

The bard started a new song and Rune tapped their foot along to the beat, trying to work out some restless energy. After another sip of ale, they decided the drink, while not the best they’d ever had, was quite the deal for the price. Rune wondered if the food was as good; maybe Gale could take a day off cooking duty. Then again, the chef had said something about rats in the basement. 

( That would be the best way to do it. You could go to the basement. No one would be able to see you cast down there, no one would even think to cast Counterspell.)

Sure, they could do that, but they weren’t going to, so they weren’t going to focus on it.  They just had to-

( How do you know what you’re going to do? Remember Alfira? )

Rune gripped the glass of ale tighter as they placed it back onto the counter. The tavern seemed louder now, more crowded. The bard’s song, a jaunty little tune meant for dancing, picked up the pace. 

( Did you know Circle of Death has a thirty feet effect radius? If you cast it just at ceiling level, you could get the second story too. You could even spare the rats ).

Was the bard’s lute off pitch when they started? It didn’t seem like that earlier. It was likely in their head, 

( Your companions would be struck too. You wouldn’t likely kill them all but you’d kill the weaker ones for sure. Though wasn’t everyone weak compared to you, a child of a God ?)

It felt hotter in the tavern too. Rune felt someone brush past them, and went stock still, their eyes still closed. They could feel sparks coming off their hand not holding the ale. It would be so easy to reach out and shock anyone who passed by.

( How ironic would it be, for the sad little spawn, finally free of his master, to die as the rats scurried alive and well below. )

Rune’s eyes flew open and they stood up so fast that the chair behind them fell to the ground. A few people turned to look at them. Even the bard ceased playing, noticing the minor commotion. The bartender faced them, brows furrowed in a mix of alarm and concern.

(How concerned would they be, if they knew what you truly were?)

Rune left the ale unfinished, threw a tip for the bartender and made towards the stairs, paying no attention to anyone who tried to stop them. They did not halt at the second floor, instead heading straight for the windows at the end of the hall. It was twilight now, and Rune was thankful for it as they opened the latch. 

Rune climbed out the windows and onto the roof. The roof was safer than the tavern, the most accessible collateral damage local pigeons. The Urge did not stop its issessant blathering as they made their way onto the shingles, but it did become less loud in the cool air. 

They managed to find a spot to sit that was not entirely uncomfortable and pulled out their journal from their pocket. Journaling was grounding, a way to focus on anything but the Urge whispering in their ear. Next, they grabbed a piece of charcoal from their bag that they keep wrapped in cloth to keep it from staining everything. In the section of their journal where they kept unfinished tasks, they crossed off “help A. kill C.S if he wants” with more force than what was needed. Unlike most of their “to do” list, it was surrounded by completed tasks, as Rune wrote it down back even before the Tiefling party at the Grove.

Astarion knew Rune kept a journal, everyone did, but Rune hadn’t told him how early they’d decided to help him eliminate the Vampire Lord. They were worried he’d chalk it up to nothing but affection for his act, and Rune wasn’t sure they’d be able to fully convince him otherwise. To be fair, affection had played a factor, though it was affection for Astarion’s understanding of their own bloodlust and mystery novels rather than his honeyed lines. But a much larger part was that when Rune learned that spawn had to follow every order their sire gave them, helpless to fight back, they felt a murderous rage that had nothing to do with the Urge.

I cannot let that happen to anyone else , Rune had thought back then, even though they could not place where the feeling had come from.  I refuse. And they’d written down their commitment to do as such before Astarion had even considered killing Cazador as something that could be accomplished. 

Even now, while they’d mostly helped kill Cazador because Astarion wanted to, there was a part of them that was delighted to help because Cazador was a puppeteer that could be beaten. If Rune couldn’t free themselves from the God of Murder, at least they could free Astarion from his own bonds. 

They felt guilty for that feeling, even if it was a small thing. A drop in an ocean of guilt really. They were lucky they hadn’t drowned. 

They looked at the other tasks on their list. There were some they could easily handle now; crushing materials for potions, reading a book they’d gotten that they hoped might provide some insight into Karlach’s eternal engine, organizing a backlog of spell scrolls they’d picked up. Their next big task kept drawing their attention, and they ran their thumb past “save Duke Ravenguard” and watched the charcoal smear. It would have to be soon if they wanted any chance of finding him alive. And that would require making an enemy of Gortash. 

Rune didn’t care about making an enemy of Gortash exactly. It was more the complications that came with it that troubled them. Gortash knew more about who Rune used to be than Rune themselves and that made him dangerous. Would Rune’s plans still work as intended if Gortash devoted himself fully to thwarting them? Would he seek to complicate the lives of Rune’s friends by allying with the Sharrans or sending his Steel Watch to torment the refugees? Gortash knew enough about Rune to somewhat predict them even with their changes in personality, but Rune still knew less about him than Karlach did. 

Rune knew Gortash stayed his hand out of fondness for who Rune used to be (as well as hatred of Orin). Should Rune truly disrupt his plans, he would discard that fondness for a person who was, if Rune was lucky, gone. All that would be left from Gortash was rage that Rune remained wearing his friend’s face.

Friend was probably not the right word, Rune thought, shuddering. They didn’t think Gortash and their former self were capable of love, but they absolutely had been fucking. If Rune asked, Gortash could probably tell them what scars they’d obtained since they vanished, maybe even how Rune got them, and when he died, he would know the history of Rune’s body more than themselves.

Well, that was a nauseating thought. Best not to think about that one, especially given that Rune’s current partner was a floor below reeling what might be one of the most traumatic days of his life. Rune could unpack that properly once they were free of the tadpoles. And helped Shadowheart find her parents. And found a solution to Karlach’s engine and-

Well, eventually. Just not now. 

Instead of thinking more about the current Archduke, Rune instead began dividing up tasks for the next day. Wyll would have to come with Rune while they investigated leads for his father, and Karlach would be good to have on hand should they get dire news. Everything Rune knew about comforting people was learned from watching Wyll, and they could use Karlach’s help if news about the man’s father was tragic. They would also be a good pair to help Rune to dig up more about Orin’s murder plot, given their knowledge of the city. If Astarion was up for it, he’d be an excellent addition as well; otherwise, Jaerhia’s would be an good choice. While they were off doing that,  Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale could continue looking for leads on where the Temple of Bhaal might be located. Orin had promised Rune that Halsin would be safe as long as Rune focused their ire on Gortash, but Rune was not going to place their trust in their murderous sibling. 

They’d made that mistake once, back when they were something cruel. They would not make it again. 

A half an hour must have passed before Rune heard someone else scramble onto the window below. They prepared a cast of ray of frost until they saw white curls poke out over the edge of the roof. Rune closed their journal and set it on their lap.

“Up here.”

“I knew you’d be roosting somewhere,” Astarion said, as he leapt onto the shingles with grace Rune rather envied. “Tavern too noisy for your scheming?”

Astarion knew Rune could plan just fine surrounded by outside noise; he’d seen them plan in their camp, after all. They wouldn’t be surprised if he’d learned about their swift exit from the main floor himself. He sat down next to them and looked at their lap where the journal was seated. 

“Are you ever going to let me take a look inside that thing?”

Astarion absolutely had looked inside Rune’s journal before, this they both knew. They’d caught him at it early on in their journey a few times, though he’d quit early on. At the time, Rune thought it might be due to the Alfria incident making him more cautious, but in retrospect, he’d likely stopped peeking when he realized Rune wrote down notes to self and supply lists, not secrets to stealing their heart. 

Rune was curious to why he’d want to look at it now. Astarion had already stolen their heart quite thoroughly. He had to know that surely.  

“It’s just lists and reminders. You know that. I don’t think you’d find it all that interesting.”

Astarion moved closer to Rune, so their thighs were touching. He leaned over their shoulder. “Still no drawings in the margins?”

Rune looked down at the journal and flipped it open to a section where the corner had a red stain. They held it up, showing Astarion the selected page which was covered in blood. There were a dozen of smeared illegible drawings made by shaking fingers on the parchment, like a disturbing finger painting. When Rune looked over the top of the journal to view Astarion, he looked flummoxed.

“Is that supposed to be a small intestine?”

Rune peered over the top of the journal and took in the spot Astarion was looking at. They supposed it looked a little like intestines, though it could also be just a shaky line or a blood trail. It was hard to tell. 

“I don’t know if it’s supposed to be anything at all.”

Rune would have torn out the page entirely, but at the time it’d been a clue of whatever might be wrong with them. When they’d woken up with stinging fingertips covered with their own blood, they’d scribbled the date at the top of the page like it was a regular entry. It was a bit comical, how different their neat handwriting was to the gore on the page. 

“I suppose we can cross off artist as a potential future career path,” Astarion said, leaning his forearms back against the roof so he could lean back a little. His body was too tense for the position to look relaxing, but he wasn’t trying to fake ease, which Rune took as a promising sign. “Planning out our marching orders for tomorrow?”

“A little. Depends on what you’re up for.”

“You know I’m up for everything darling.”

“Astarion,” Rune said, voice firm. They knew that voice for what it was: an act. If Astarion wanted to brush off everything in front of the others, Rune wouldn’t stop him. But they wouldn’t allow him to do the same when they were alone. 

Rune had their own performances memorized: the devoted Absolute cultist, the brave hero, the playful clueless sorcerer. Astarion knew them all, he’d seen Rune throw on each persona when the moment required it, then drop it as soon as they were back in camp. If Rune put down their mask, they expected Astarion to do the same.

Astarion’s shoulders slumped. He leaned back, looking up at the setting sun and held out his hand, like he was trying to cup the horizon in his grasp. 

“That first day, after the crash,” Astarion said, keeping his hand where it was. “I thought the sun would be the death of me. 200 years of shit and the moment I was free of Cazador, I was going to meet my end by a sunbeam.” He let out a dark chuckle and lowered his hand, having it lay back by his side. “Seemed like Gods’ usual cruel brand of humor.”

Rune kept quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

“Imagine my surprise when everything played out otherwise. Here I was, free of Cazador, able to walk in the sun, two things I thought I’d never have again.” He held out his hands wide, then gestured to Rune. “It seemed too good to be true. And of course, it was, once you came along and told me that the very thing that gave me what I wanted was also going to cause me to sprout tentacles in a handful of days. So when I heard about the Rite, it seemed like the perfect solution. Sure, I could have taken over the Cult myself, but that seemed like a lot of responsibility and frankly, more work than it was cut out for. I mean, did you see all the paperwork on Thorm’s desk? I’d never see the sunlight again if I had to read through all that.”

Rune felt a flash of rage pulse through them at the mention of Throm but ignored it. Now was not the time. They instead directed their entire focus on Astarion.

“It was my chance to have it all. The sun, my freedom, and Cazador dead at my hands.” Astarion waved a hand, gesturing like he was throwing something aside. “Sure, it would come at the cost of my so-called siblings, but they would have done the same thing to me. Might as well put them out of their misery. I’d be doing them a favor.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his legs, placing his chin on his knees. The setting sun cast light onto the bottom of his face, just under his eyes. “And yet-”

Rune could guess what stayed Astarion’s hand in the end. They’d watched as Astarion stared at cages of spawn in horror, noticed how he’d wanted to look away from all that pain and suffering. Rune was the one who’d forced him to meet it head on, to look them in the eyes and admit the truth of the matter; that Astarion could very well do this, but he’d have to do so knowing he was throwing away people, not the already dead and buried. People who could have been Rune, if things were different.

(He wouldn't have been able to kill you. He could have tried, but you would have killed him first before you stepped a foot in that manor. Maybe even tore out his fangs as a prize.) 

“I couldn’t do it. I had everything in front of me, and I couldn’t do it.”

“You wouldn’t still be yourself if you did,” Rune said. They remembered listening to the skull tell the story of Cazador before he was a Vampire Lord, how much his story as spawn echoed Astarion’s. Rune doubted the man was ever truly soft of heart, but he at least had some capacity for feeling other than his own ego. For Cazador to have changed so much turning into a true vampire spoke volumes; hells only knew how much Astarion might change were he to become something even more than that. 

“Probably,” Astarion admitted. He scowled, kicking one of the shingles under his foot. “But I wouldn’t be like this either. Afraid he’s going to pop out of the shadows and drag me back there at any moment.”He sat up straight all of the sudden, irritation leaking into his tone. “He’s dead. I killed him myself. So why do I still feel like this?”

“Because it all still happened, maybe? Like my headaches-“ Rune ran their fingers through their hair. They could feel the scar that stretched from behind their ear to the center of their forehead. Back when they crashed it was visible given their buzz of hair. Now it wasn’t too noticeable now that Rune’s hair had grown out from patchwork to a pixie, but Rune could never forget it was there. 

Astarion had Cazador to thank for his own back. Rune noticed the vampire took care to not wear items that gave anyone a glimpse of the scarring there. Cazador’s death would not erase that contract nor the memory of it being carved there. Even if Astarion both wished otherwise.

“Even though the wound might physically have healed, that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt,” Rune said, finishing their thought. 

Astarion turned away, snarling. “So what, I’m stuck with him forever, even while he rots?”

Sometimes Astarion could be purposefully obtuse. “That wasn’t my point.”

“And what was it then?”

Rune was good with words when it came to strangers. Strangers they never had to see again, strangers never got to realize that Rune had spotted what they wanted to hear or inferred the role they wanted Rune to play. Rune didn’t have to think much about the interaction other than how to get what they wanted.

With friends, with people Rune cared for, words were harder. Because with them, words could do far more damage if thrown around loosely. The wrong thing to say, the wrong tone and one could cause damage as deep as a knife wound.

Rune was so tired of hurting people they didn’t want to. 

“That you shouldn’t tear yourself apart because you haven’t healed from 200 years of shit overnight,” they settled on. Astarion was looking at them again, red eyes trained on Rune’s face. “You’re so hard on yourself, sometimes,��Astarion began to open his mouth but Rune pressed on, determined to finish the thought. “And I know I’m one to talk, but Astarion, you managed to kill a vampire lord today. You gave thousands the chance to make a new life. You gave the gur their children back.”

“That I helped take in the first place-“

“Okay, well if that’s true-“ Frustration burned through Rune and they pointed their finger in Astarion’s chest. Astarion almost fell back in surprise, Rune rarely got visibly angry. Rune would have tried to reign in the emotion but they needed Astarion to understand this, they needed him to believe them. They reached into their bag for the dagger everyone insisted they keep on them, and pushed it sheathed into Astarion’s hands. Astarion looked at them like they’d lost their mind.

“You should rightfully take your revenge given my father tried to have me tear you limb from limb.” Rune sat back on the roof, and held their arms out wide. Astarion was still staring at them, the dagger held limply in his hands like he’d never wielded one before. “Well?”

“You weren’t yourself.” His voice was a whisper.

“And you were?”

“That’s not fair-“

“Isn't it?" Rune reached forward and plucked the dagger out of Astarion’s grasp. "Astarion, you cannot entirely hold yourself to what you did under Cazador’s control! You did a lot of good today. And yes, I know, how dare I accuse you of goodness, but this day could have ended very differently and it didn’t.” They placed the dagger back into their bag. “Give yourself some credit for that.”

“Are you sure you don’t deserve that credit instead?”

“No.” Rune was resolute. “I told you what I thought but I was willing to follow your lead. And you led us here,” They shrugged. 

“To an inn where we’re crammed into one suite and must scramble onto the roof for some privacy.”

Rune shrugged. The sun was almost gone now and with it the horizon turned a beautiful violet. The night wasn’t so bad, when it arrived with such a sight. “Who cares? You’re here. That’s all I need.” 

Astarion looked at them for a long moment, eyes wide before he reached forward, grabbed the front of their tunic, and pulled them in for a kiss. It was sweet but not soft and Rune smiled into it, feeling some of the fear from earlier in the day finally slip from their mind. 

They knew Astarion had worried when he’d confessed he’d like to stop having sex and slow things down, but frankly, Rune hadn’t minded. They didn’t remember much of their own history, but they doubted the former leader of the Cultist of Bhaal was one for kissing on rooftops with zero intention of losing clothing in the endeavor. At best, Rune’s previous life had consisted of getting off and offing people, no feeling required. While they would have agreed to Astarion’s request regardless, it didn’t hurt that Rune felt like something like this was something new to them too. Something nice. 

Rune broke the kiss for air, then dove back in for another. This one was more brief, just a quick press of lips, but Gods it was lovely. When they broke apart, they were almost giddy with affection. They placed their head on his shoulder and chuckled into Astarion’s collar bone, feeling him let out of a puff of air that ruffled their hair. He wrapped his arms around their back, pulling them in closer.

“How in the Gods’ name can you be so casually charming?”

“You know which God, we had a talk about it and everything.”

“You are an absurd human being.”

Rune pulled back to look him in the face. Astarion was smiling now, properly smiling and they felt so very warm despite the cool night air. With a teasing smile, they leaned in, just out of reach for another kiss. “But you like me though.”

“A terrible lapse in judgment on my part,” Astarion got up, and held out his hand towards Rune. “Come’on love, let’s get to bed.”

Rune looked up at him. They were rather tired. However, as nice sharing a bed was, Rune wasn’t sure it was a good idea after today given Rune’s nightmares. Their fits had gotten worse as they got closer to the city, and now that they were inside the walls properly, they woke up multiple times a night in a cold sweat. It wasn’t exactly the best atmosphere for an elf to trance. 

“If you want to be alone I can go bunk with Gale?” When it came to shared sleeping arrangements, Gale tended to be the best choice simply because he was rather used to sharing space with insomniacs after years of studying at Blackstaff. Rune could toss and turn on their bedroll all they wanted, and Gale would sleep it off just fine. 

(There would be a fight over who “got” the bed, this Rune knew. Gale would insist Rune take it for having the basic human decency of not asking him to blow himself up, and Rune would insist Gale take it because Gale complained about his knees already, and Rune had slept in far worse places. Rune expected fully to win, but not without a debate).

“Tell Gale to get his own sorcerer. It can be part of your wingman proposal,” Astarion wiggled his fingers. “I know you don’t sleep well, love. I am aware of what I’m signing up for.”

Rune took his hand and let Astarion help him to their feet. When they were standing, Astarion lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of Rune’s palm. Rune could feel the flush that appeared on their cheeks. 

“Thank you,” he said. Rune wasn’t sure if it was for helping him kill Cazador, the bath, the talk on the roof or all three. Rune shook their head.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. And I want to thank you anyway.” Astarion tightened his grip on their hands and looked Rune right in the eye. “And I meant what I said yesterday; We will see you free of Bhaal. Freedom won’t be truly sweet until you’re no longer under his thumb.”

Rune’s stomach twisted, their throat tightening. He meant it, Rune could tell. This wasn’t intended as an empty promise or sweet words to assure Rune’s nerves. If it was possible to unshackle Rune from their father’s influence, Astarion would see it done.

For both their sakes, Rune desperately hoped it was possible at all. They had their doubts but maybe Astarion’s hope would be enough for the both of them.

Astarion lowered their joined hands and tugged Rune towards the edge of the roof where the windowsill was. “Now come on, sorcerers need their beauty sleep.” 

Rune followed him. As they climbed into bed later, Rune curling around the trancing vampire, they closed their eyes and hoped that they could find a way to keep this, the Gods be dammned.