#my tav will finally appear next time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

on-a-lucky-tide · 9 months ago

Text

Price prepares for his first date with Nik. 141 rib him.

CW: none.

Price stared into the mirror above his sink and wondered when the fuck all those lines on his face had arrived. Last time he’d looked, he could have sworn there were fewer, and there had been no grey either, but now he saw traces of his old man in the reflection and that made his stomach twist unpleasantly.

In all fairness, he didn’t really have much reason to look–really look–at his own face. Even when he was smearing camo around his eyes and down his cheeks, he was only looking for areas of shine that might draw an enemy’s eye. He never really considered why else someone might be lookin’.

Why Nik might be lookin’.

“Bloody hell,” he breathed as he began gathering up his shaving bowl and the badger-fur brush he only got out on special occasions; medal ceremonies, weddings, funerals and now, apparently, bloody dates. Why the fuck he had even agreed to it in the first place he had no idea, but Nik was surprisingly romantic given what Price knew about the rest of his life, and it was difficult to say no when he turned on those eyes. The word ‘no’ felt like booting a Labrador in the face.

Price stashed his shaving kit away and turned back to the mirror to check the rest. He had been pretty sure the shirt he had scrounged from the bottom of his paltry wardrobe hadn’t seen the light of day since the early noughties, and that had been confirmed when he’d pulled it around his shoulders and the buttons had gaped over his chest. Twenty years ago he’d been a lot leaner, but two decades of focused gym sessions, hard graft and being battered in the field had left him with a lot more heft. He’d pulled on a white t-shirt underneath and left it open, hoping he didn't look too much like someone's dad trying to look ten years younger.

Hair waxed into place, beard conditioned, aftershave and cologne–but not enough to register as chemical warfare–and he was as good as he was gonna get. He had never been asked on a date, only ever done the asking, and even then the sum total of his dating efforts as a young man had ended in disaster. Cold fish and chips on the riverfront and getting your leg over in the nearby park, only to fumble that too, wasn’t exactly peak romance, even at fifteen years old, and somehow he didn't think Nik had anything similar in mind.

Fifteen years old. That had been--

Oh, fuck. He was not equipped for this in the slightest.

Price’s phone beeped and a glance at the message confirmed Nik had arrived on base to pick him up. Bang on time too. Price took one final look in the mirror, grimaced, shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck it. It would have to do. Nik had seen him looking like the arse end of a donkey, so this… jitter in Price’s chest felt bloody stupid.

“Get a fuckin’ grip,” he murmured to himself as he snatched his wallet and keys from his bed and shut the door behind him. Unfortunately for Price, the rest of 141 were eagerly awaiting his appearance in the rec room and all looked up when he closed the door. He immediately regretted not exiting through the open window in his room.

“Well, well, cap, don’ ye brush up nice. G’ies a twirl,” Soap said, leaning forward with a wide grin that informed Price he was about to endure a good five to ten minutes of focused ribbing.

“Watch it, MacTavish,” Price replied, but without heat. He felt like a prize twat and this was Soap’s roundabout way of helping.

“Och, c’mon noow,” Soap spread his hands and turned to Garrick for support, “Gaz, back me up…”

Garrick looked up from his phone and tilted his head to the side, clearly evaluating just how much he wanted to chance Price putting him on the worst details for the next week. Apparently, he was feeling pretty fucking lucky that evening. “Pretty sure my dad owns that shirt, Tav. Very… uh, early noughties chic. What d’ya think, Ghost?”

Price could count on Simon to fight his corner against these two reprobates. Or so he thought. Simon leaned back, arms folded across his chest, and examined Price for a beat before choosing violence. “Pretty sure I saw it last about ten years ago,” Simon said, and then shook his head. “Happy to drop a pony on a new striker xt gen 2 so you can have the ranger green as well as the steel grey, but couldn’t cough up a few quid on a new shirt, sir.”

“You’re all bastards, and I you’ll be shovelling the shit next week once I get back to my desk,” Price growled.

A round of groans followed, and Soap rolled up to his feet. “C’mon, sir, we’re just jossin’. As my ol’ nan used tae say: a pritty face suits the dish-cloot.”

“Dish cloth chic,” Gaz said, grinning.

“Ah mean he looks bonnie, right? ‘Side, we need to cut the ol’ man some slack. When was th’ last time ye got tae let yer hair doon, sir?”

“Not long enough,” Price said, pinching the bridge of his nose and planning to beast the trooper delaying Nik at the checkpoint.

“I reckon the last time was when Usher was in the charts. What was the song? Ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, ooh-whoop ooh-whoop, shit, what was it called?”

Price decided that Garrick would be organising a mock dawn raid for the freshest batch of recruits. He would make sure the weather forecast was grim.

“Wait, wait, lemme get it up on Spotify. We c'n get cap in the mood tae drop tha’ thang. Reckon Nik’s an animal on the dancefloor, aye? Ha! Found it. ‘Yeah’ by Usher.”

Soap would be joining Garrick. Full weighted kit.

Price watched as the two sergeants bounced around enthusiastically to a song from 2004 that was, by Price’s estimations, only a year older than the shirt he was currently wearing. Fucking disaster. He looked at Simon, who was watching Johnny with that far away look he always did when he thought no one else would notice.

“You have started the party without me, I see,” said a familiar voice at the door. Price looked over and nearly choked on his own tongue. Nik looked fucking good. White button down open at the collar, black slacks, polished shoes, with his hair freshly cut. Simple, but classy. Price tugged at his sleeve and rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the heat he felt under his skin hadn't translated into a flush.

Nik appraised Price with those same soft eyes that had implored him from the cockpit of his damn helicopter for a date. Price cleared his throat. “You scrub up good, Nik.”

“I could say the same. But you are always the prettiest thing in any room to me, captain.”

Price’s face burned to the very tips of his ears.

“Ah, Nik! Watcha mate, how're you doin’?” Garrick bounded over and threw his arm around Nik’s shoulders for a half hug.

“Ye better have him home by ten!” Soap called from where he stayed slouched on the sofa.

“Of course, sergeant.”

“Nik, let's go, and you lot, get an early night. Pay back's a bitch.”

Nik smiled and stepped aside with what was definitely a bloody half bow to let Price out of the rec room first to a chorus of groans and entreaties for mercy from the two sergeants. Price and Nik emerged into the night air and had almost reached the car before Nik took Price's hand and drew him to a stop. “You are nervous.”

Price cleared his throat, sniffed, and did his best to come off as nonchalant. “Nah, I'm grand, just realised I’ve not got the clobber for this kind of thing, or the, uh… expertise. I'm worried you'll be disappointed.”

Nik looked at him blankly.

“Ah, sorry, my… clothes. It's been a long time since–”

Nik took his chin and lifted his eyes from where they had drifted to the ground. The kiss he placed on Price’s lips was tender, fleeting compared to their first shared under the downdraft of spinning helicopter blades, but it made Price's heart stutter just the same.

“You look good…” Nik released his chin to push both hands into Price’s hair, mussing it out of its careful arrangement. Next, he reached around the back of Price’s belt and tugged his t-shirt free. “Hm, now better.” Price swallowed hard, trying not to be too obvious about inhaling Nik’s scent as he pressed in close.

“Scruffy more like.” Price was still getting over the feeling of Nik’s fingers in his hair, brushing the skin on his back. Nerves had been replaced by the soft thrum of something warm in his chest.

“Nyet. English country boy with rough edges and blue eyes. You are honest, John Price. And a good man. It is what I have always loved most.” Nik opened the car door as Price gawped at him with wide eyes. When his senses had returned, Price realised Nik had rented a nondescript BMW for his stay, with leather interior and a fully digital media system. Plush. “After you.”

“Where’re we goin’?” Price asked as he slid into the passenger seat.

“Is surprise.”

“Bloody hell, and here I was thinkin' we’d go out for a movie and a pint.”

Nik grinned, tapping the beemer into ‘Drive’. “I will have the captain back before he turns into pumpkin, or the lieutenant mounts a rescue mission.”

Price chuckled as Nik pulled away into the night. Thankfully, Usher didn't feature in the evening‘s itinerary.

#captain john price #cod nikolai #nikprice #cod #call of duty

318 notes · View notes

honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 11 months ago

Text

The Red Tieflings Bachelors (Rolan and Zevlor) Reacting to You (Tav) Thanking Them

Featuring: Rolan/Tav; Zevlor/Tav

A/N: Just a little something that popped into my mind while working to clear the writer's block. I was feeling very low the last week or two, so I apologize for my inactivity here. And then I was on vacation with my family. Thankfully, I’m feeling better now. (Currently working on Yandere! Alucard Part 4 and the next ask. Yan! Part 4 will probably take a while because it's long-form (not hc), so expect the ask after that to be posted first.)

Rolan

🔮 It was just another bustling day in Sorcerous Sundries when you decided to stop by, a newfound magical item in hand. To no one’s surprise, it appeared your favorite tiefling wizard was too busy sorting through the inventory of Ramazith's Tower to man his shop, seeing it was his programmed illusion who greeted you with a relatively uncharacteristic amiable tone.

“Welcome to the Sorcerous Sundries. Is there something in particular you’re looking for today?”

Knowing Rolan, in reality, his body was pacing around Razamith’s Tower, nearly tearing his hair out, as he obsessively mumbled, sorting through the piles and piles of books and scrolls Lorroakan had gathered in his time. The compelling image in your mind was such a stark contrast to the one before you, that you bit your lip to prevent your signature mischievous smile from dawning across your face.

“I believe Rolan left something upstairs for me.”

The illusion looked at you, eyes narrowed, presumably scanning its programming for an appropriate response. Yet, just as Rolan’s Projection opened his mouth to speak (in all probability to deny you entry) your conversation was interrupted by a boisterous halfling patron, hoisting an item that he declared comprised of defective magic.

Never one to waste a distraction, you took the opportunity to make your way up the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries to its second floor and into the correct portal leading to Razamith Towers.

Upon entering the portal, you were met with the familiar sound of Lia and Cal bickering with none other than the new proprietor of Sorcerous Sundries himself.

“If you simply spoke to them instead of pining inside this tower all day and night…” Lia went straight to the point as usual.

“I am not pining!” You could hear Rolan answer, in his usual defensive tone.

“I think what Lia means to say is, it would be easier for all involved if you were to simply ask them-” Always the mediator, Cal must have jumped in. It did not surprise you, seeing as how he was rather skilled when it came to talking his siblings down.

“Ask who what?” You interrupted, the concrete visage of Razamith’s Towers finally greeting you. Despite having known the tiefling family for months now, you were always amused by their antics. “Does Rolan have his heart set on an apprenticeship with yet another asinine wizarding master?” You had a feeling Cal and Lia were referring to something else entirely, but you’d prefer to speak to Rolan alone about that.

Rolan rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by both your sudden presence and your insistence on teasing him. “I no longer require a master, nor a teacher. Lorroakan gathered enough magical books and knowledge within these walls for me to teach myself all I could ever wish to know.” Behind him, his pointed tail lashed sideways, always ending with an upward flick of the point. To a fellow tiefling, his irritation would have been quite obvious. Then again, you were not a fellow tiefling.

You nodded, ignoring Rolan’s wilful tone. You had become accustomed to his many displays of false irritation and indignation. More often than not, your headstrong ally was more bark than bite. “That may be,” you continued. “But in case it isn’t, I’ve brought you one more tome for your collection.”

Rolan’s entire posture, tail included, stiffened upon hearing your words. The tiefling wizard was in disbelief. A gift? For him? But, why?

Lia smirked, before elbowing Cal, whose own knowing expression soon followed suit, spreading across his face. Nodding to each other, two brother-sister duo walked off, leaving you and Rolan alone, standing in a near deafening silence.

“It’s a tome on the origins of The Weave, or, at least I think it is. That’s what Gale told me anyway.”

Rolan's previously erect shoulders slumped at the mention of your former traveling companion’s name. “Ah yes, Gale, The Great Wizard of Waterdeep. How is he faring these days?”

“Better,” you answered honestly. “It seems not living with a ticking time bomb just inside your chest does a man some good.”

Rolan brushed off your attempt at lightening the mood, pushing past you to a stack of unsorted books piled on an end table to your left. “I assume the two of you have kept in touch then?”

“Rolan!” You mock gasped. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

“Pfft, you’ve clearly let the title of Hero go to your head. Why would I be jealous of a mere professor at Blackstaff Academy when I possess an entire library of magical writings, a shop full of magical items, and several arcane cannons to defend all of the former?”

“He’s a very respected professor, and there’s something to be said for enjoying the simpler things in life.”

Rolan scoffed once again. “He had the power to be a God and turned it down. After enduring all your group did, taking on the shadow curse, fighting the goblins, destroying the Absolute, a job instructing ungrateful, know-it-all brats hardly seems like a reward.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Well, it’s what Gale wanted. But I do have to wonder,” you slowly stalked towards the red tiefling, “If a very coveted and respected position of authority isn’t something you'd consider a reward, what exactly qualifies as recompense to the mighty Wizard of Razamith’s Tower?”

Slowly, you trailed a finger up along Rolan’s robed arm, delighting in the little gasp that slipped from his lips.

He both hated and loved how you could make him feel like this. How just one word, one look from you could leave him a needy, wanton mess, how he longed for you to step even closer, for his body to press up entirely against yours. In the back of his mind, he imagined what it would feel like for your strong weathered hands to run down his red infernal skin, but that time, with no gloves or thick robes in the way.

Rolan was certain you knew the degree of power you held over him. He was sure you delighted in pushing and prodding at his buttons, drawing out each one of your visits with flirtation and playful verbal sparring.

“What… about…a…?” you enunciated each word with another swipe of your finger across his robe’s velvety material, your face moving ever so slowly closer to his.

Finding his composure, Rolan shrugged off your advances with a shaky sigh. “Spit it out already. I don’t have all day.” Defiantly, he turned to face you, calling your bluff. His lips were mere inches from yours: red, plump, and just begging to be kissed.

Never one to back down from a challenge, you continued to press forward, pressing your lips to his.

With a breathy sigh, Rolan’s tension melted away as he melded his mouth back onto yours.

Reaching up with one hand, you cupped the back of his head, ever so gently pulling him even closer to you.

Rolan moaned into the kiss and moved to grab your waist, but before his hands could secure you in his grasp, you stepped away just as smoothly and silently as you had stepped forward.

Embarrassed and flustered, Rolan flashed you his pointy teeth in a frustrated groan. “Why must you tease me so? Have you not grown tired, frequently coming here just to pester me?”

You beamed, proud to see your previous suspicions confirmed. “No,” you stated, matter-of-factly. “It’s too much fun! Besides,” you held the book out for him to take. “You didn’t seem all that excited about my earlier thanks, and that simply wouldn’t do.”

Rolan rolled his eyes, accepting the tome with a huff, his tail back to swishing violently behind him. “Was that what that was? And here I thought you were trying to come up with new ways to annoy me.”

“Annoy you?!” You mock gasped. “Surely my kiss was not that bad.”

“For a ‘thank you’, that kiss was highly inappropriate, it! Well…” he trailed off, his cheeks somehow blushing an even warmer shade of red.

You tilted your head, encouraging the tiefling to go on.

Rolan avoided your gaze, pretending to find interest in the book you had just gifted him. His voice was quiet, but also self-assured. “It was entirely too short of a kiss to count as a ‘thank you’. You might as well just have given me a peck on the cheek.”

Rolan continued flipping pages of the tome, doing his best to act uninterested in your kiss and your presence, even though the both of you knew all too well it was a lie.

“Don’t worry,” you started to take your leave, giving Rolan a playful pat on the shoulder. You paused for a moment, leaning into his ear to whisper, “I’ll make sure the next time I pester you goes more in your favor.”

Watching your form retreat into the portal, Rolan brought a finger to lips, just ghosting along the surface you had latched onto not seconds before.

Emerging from their eavesdropping positions, Cal and Lia could not help but give Rolan a pair of mischievous smiles.

Watching as the whirls of the portal spun around you, you overheard one last bit of conversation just before your body was transported back to the upper floor of Sorcerous Sundries.

“Not one word,” Rolan warned, his stern body language failing to conceal the pleased sound within his voice.

“Told you to just ask them out.”

“Lia!”

Zevlor

⚔️ It had been some time since you defeated The Absolute. Of course, despite the changing season, much of Baldur’s Gate was in need of repair and renovation. While Halsin had taken many refugees to his new settlement in Reithwin, a part of the former Shadow-Cursed Lands, many chose to remain in the city and restart their lives there. Being a frequent flyer of the city yourself, you found it easy to visit those who chose to stay behind. One such individual, a former Hellrider called Zevlor, was someone you found yourself visiting more than the others.

You shifted the rather large rectangle basket within your grasp, moving it so it rested within the crook of your left arm as you freed your right hand, before raising it to knock upon the unmarked door before you. Faintly, you could make out whispered gossip floating up from the stairs behind you, but you paid the hushed voices no mind. Sure, to outsiders it may have seemed odd that the savior of Badlur’s Gate was so keen on visiting the same acquaintance, one who resided in such simple dwellings, but to you the luxury afforded as a hero and adventurer paled in comparison to a good conversation between friends.

‘Friends’. The word echoed in your head, like a schoolmarm repeating the dishonest words of a misbehaved child.

In truth, you found yourself more drawn to the older paladin than perhaps you’d like to admit. You found your admiration and respect for the former Hellrider only grew with each passing visit, and now, there was hardly a day the tiefling did not fondly cross your mind.

Then again, those silly girlish feelings would no doubt ruin the peaceful nature of your current relationship with Zevlor, so you pushed them aside in favor of maintaining a friendship while pining rather than speaking your truth and risking having no relationship at all.

Hearing a shuffle of objects on the other side of the door, you smiled and released a breath you didn't know you were holding. It was just like any other day, there was no reason to get nervous now.

“Ah, Tav,” Zevlor opened the door with a soft smile, “Right on time, as usual.” Always the gentleman, Zevlor stepped back, holding the door open for you.

“My parents always said punctuality is a virtue,” you smiled, remembering their words fondly. “As much as I try to embody their lessons, this life doesn’t present many opportunities to do so, so I like to fit them in where I can.”

Zevlor hummed, closing the door behind you. “They must be proud of you. Not every parent can claim their daughter is one of the great heroes of Baldur’s Gate.”

Walking over to the settee just beyond the door, you took your usual spot seated on the right-hand side of the rather cramped sitting area. Despite being inside Zevlor’s home many times, you still found yourself amazed at how the tiefling managed to move around without knocking his tail into everything.

The furnished room Zevlor currently resided in was a single-room loft, settled above a rather quaint little cafe spot in the lower part of the city. It wasn’t much, and it had very little privacy, especially for visitors, but that was little concern of yours. And despite Zevlor’s constant apologies for the small space, you felt more at home seated inside his little apartment than you did your camp at times.

In the corner opposite the door, a cast-iron stove and a washing basin with a faucet were secluded just beyond a shutter-style room divider. You knew from previous visits that was where Zevlor always warmed the kettle for your meeting tea. Next to the settee you were seated on was a single dresser, about waist high. Upon it sat the few various plates and utensils Zevlor used daily as well as the collection of mismatched tea cups and teapots. And despite never seeing the inside of them, you assumed the drawers of the dresser housed his clothing and armor. Although, you must admit you were rather curious as to how he got his chainmail and breastplate to fit.

Directly across from the settee, on the opposite wall was a twin-sized bed, undoubtedly too small for the tiefling paladin, even if he was never one to complain. Zevlor always kept it neatly made, the sheets all tucked in evenly, almost as if no one had slept in it the night prior. You supposed he had no choice, if he wished to entertain guests, as there was no way for their eyes to avoid it. Then again, a part of you had a feeling that order and precision were just key elements of who Zevlor was. Despite no longer being a Hellrider, and having long broken his oath as a paladin, several of his attributes like discipline and respect went far beyond any former occupation or title.

Setting your surprise gift onto the wooden coffee/dining table before you, you answered Zevlor’s observation with a much more melancholy smile. “I’d like to think that, if they were still here, that yes, they’d be proud.”

Taken aback by your revelation, Zevlor’s face fell before he recanted. “Tav, forgive me. I did not know your parents had passed. But I do still believe that regardless of where their souls may be now, they are looking upon you with pride.”

Careful not to accidentally knock you with his tail, Zevlor retrieved the teapot, ready with tea already steeping, and two of the mismatched cups, before he returned to be seated next to you.

Due to the tight nature of the room’s layout, and the small stature of the settee, every visit between the two of you resulted in your knees touching. In the beginning, Zevlor was overly apologetic, insisting he could instead sit on the bed, and allow you to have the sofa all to yourself, but you insisted the proximity was more than fine. You knew many people still saw tieflings as devils, monsters, or hellspawns, but you were not among them. The tieflings were just like any other race you had encountered on your journey: they were simply doing their best to survive.

If anything, the hardships Zevlor and the tiefling refugees endured before arriving in Emerald Grove only made you respect them more. You were no stranger to hardship. You knew how difficult it was to have to get back up after you’ve been beaten; particularly how hard it was to accomplish the sixth or seventh time around, but it was something Zevlor managed to do with dignity when leading his people.

You knew he did not see it similarly, his mind having been temporarily corrupted by The Absolute, but you would have fared no better if it was not for The Emperor’s intrusion. Truth be told, few minds ever could have resisted such a powerful psychic force. And even though several of Zevlor’s former tiefling friends and allies held him in contempt to this day, you could not bring yourself to agree with them.

After the tea had been poured and sipped, your comfortable silence gave way to conversation.

“How long will you be in the city this time? Any adventures planned for the future?” Zevlor asked.

“I do have some news,” you admitted, placing your teacup down. “I’ve been thinking of this for a while now, but I needed some time to come to terms with it.”

Zevlor motioned for you to go on.

“Well, it’s been nearly seven months since our victory against The Absolute, against Gortash, Orin, and Ketheric Thorm. The former Shadow-Cursed Lands have blossomed into a new hope for so many people. I’ve thought about hanging up my adventurer’s hat. At least for now.”

“I see. And what will you do with all your spare time? Travel? The Sword Coast has much to see, or so I’m told.”

You shook your head. “I’ve been thinking of settling down.” You fiddled with your fingers, hands resting in your lap. “Maybe starting a family.”

“Oh,” came Zevlor’s deflated response. “I see.”

You placed a reassuring hand on Zevlor’s shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, I love helping people. And I want to continue to do it. But I think I can do it differently, in a way where I can have both, ya know?”

Zevlor nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes, certainly. It makes sense. You’re young, you want to live life to the fullest but you also don’t want to live it alone. I understand perfectly.”

Seeing Zevlor’s downtrodden posture, you brought your hand down from his shoulder and placed it on top of his. “The reason I wanted to tell you was because, well, I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to come with me?”

Zevlor’s eyes snapped up. “I’m- I’m sorry?”

“I found a house, a cottage in east of Reithwin. It’s nothing fancy, and it’s most certainly in need of some major repairs but there are two rooms. It’d be away from the chaos of the city, in a town itself that is starting anew. I thought, there’d be a chance, you’d prefer those circumstances as opposed to living here.”

Zevlor swallowed harshly. “I’m not certain what to say. You’ve already been such a help to me and my people. You’ve forgiven me even after… I do not know if such an old tiefling like myself is worthy of such kindness.”

“Oh Zevlor,” you sighed, pulling the older man in for a reassuring hug. “You deserve this kindness and more. You’ve survived so much, and you’re the reason so many others have survived. You stood up and fought The Absolute’s Army when it descended upon the city. You could have hidden. You knew what kind of power it had, you knew all too well the way it could destroy your mind. But you chose to do the right thing. You’re incredibly brave, and I wish you could hear me say that and believe it.”

Letting Zevlor go, you could see the faintest bit of water welling up within his eyes. But to further spare the former Hellrider any embarrassment, you thought it best if you took this time to go.

Standing up, you carefully slid over the rectangle box towards Zevlor before making your way toward the door.

“What’s this?” Zevlor asked, taking a good look at the box.

“Oh, I saw them at the market the other day, and I wanted you to have them.”

“Tav, please,” Zevlor started, his hands held up in protest. “You’ve already given me so much. I couldn’t possibly-”

You cut him off before he could start his whole self-deprecating spiel up again. “It’s nothing big, just a token. I wanted you to have your own set. That way, even if you don’t wish to come along with me, we’ll be able to use and enjoy them when I come and visit you here.”

You opened the door, letting yourself out. But before you descended the stairs, you turned to face Zevlor one more time. “I’ll be at the Elfsong Tavern for a few more days, I have some things to get in order, some other people to see. I want you to know we’ll still be… friends if you don’t change your mind. Although,” you spoke, a relaxed smile upon your face. “I truly hope you will.”

You reached for the doorknob, pulling it closed behind you.

Zevlor waited, listening to your footsteps as your boots descended the stairs. When he was sure you were not going to return, his clawed fingers moved to carefully remove the top of the box, being mindful not to scratch the contents inside. Once the lid was off, the softest of gasps escaped his red lips.

Nestled in the box was a matching tea set: one teapot, three teacups, three saucers, one sugar bowl, and one cream pitcher. The rims of everything were painted to look gold, and the main design itself was a collection of watercolor flowers, each very dainty yet boldly elegant.

Gently, one of Zevlor’s hands grazed over his knee on the part where yours rested against his just moments ago.

“Friends,” Zevlor spoke aloud. The word repeated inside the Hellriders mind. But unlike the commanding voice of The Absolute, it was soft and sweet and entirely in your tone. And in its echo a second word emerged, although similar in sound and nature, the weight of it felt differently settled upon his heart.

‘Family,’ Zevlor thought looking down at the tea set you gifted him. ‘Yes, I do think I would like that.’

A/N 2.0: Can you tell how much of a soft spot I have for Zevlor? Related Fun fact I took a BG3 personality quiz once, and it said that I’m him due to my longtime suffering and constant masochist desire to keep doing the right thing even though life punishes me for it…

(个_个)

As always, please Like and most importantly, REBLOG!

Also if you enjoyed it, consider Tipping Me Via Kofi! <3

#rolan x tav #zevlor x tav #rolan x reader #zevlor x reader #rolan imagine #zevlor imagine #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3

232 notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 1 year ago

Text

Isn't it Obvious?

Ask: Astarion having a crush on an oblivious reader headcanons.

Pairing: Astarion Ancunin x Tav!Reader

Warnings: mentions of jealousy.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, exams are finally done AHHHH!! (now I just have to go to work lol). It's so relieving though- having so much more free time, especially to write- anyways! hope you all enjoy! :) (I am still figuring out how to write headcanons...)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

↳ After the first, rather violent, meeting you both had at the start of your adventures. You chalked the parties vampire spawn's forwardness to him trying to be more friendly to you

↳ You were also quite the flirt of the group yourself- the sarcasm and playfulness of it was a driving factor to your sense of humor towards the camp

↳ Needless to say that if the opportunity arose to spark a comment- you were doing your best lighten the mood and your friends spirits when the world appears to be coming to an end as the team leader

↳ Astarion of course is jealous over the fact that no matter what, you flirted with everyone no matter how dire the situation, place or time. That was supposed to be his thing- or rather his thing with you...

↳ Whatever was this thing with you? Astarion always questions himself- why do you respond and make him blush so heavily against his pale skin, make him shuffle his ruffled collar, yet you never take that confidence of yours to take the next step- did you even want to take the next step- did you even know?

↳ These questions annoyed the vampires spawn so much so that he started to become quite the storm-cloud of the group. Scowl on his face and a bit more violent in battle than usual- almost as if to capture your attention

↳ Oh course he still flirted with you, claiming that the blush on your cheeks was merely a form of revenge to the strings played across his heart- or so he thought...

↳ You were overjoyed that Astarion was always willing to make a rebuttal against your words- it was nice to have someone lightening your day instead of always being the one to do it for everyone else. But that is just what you thought- he was just repaying the favour from the group, so you kept ignoring the growing feelings you had for the pale elf

↳ Eventually, Astarion has had enough of this toying over the line and becomes quite blunt with his flirtations- he uses pet-names in replace of your actual name almost everytime, sits beside you during communal dinners and fights back to back with you. He openly talks about all the night pleasures that could be offered- trying his best to find out what will make you finally understand

↳ Yet you just smile widely, make a joke comment in response before trying someone else from the group into conversation as the elf sighs out dramatically and storms away

↳ You were beginning to grow confused and increasingly worried about Astarions apparent annoyance towards you. The jokes that bonded the two of you throughout your travels were becoming lesser as were the parties willingness to hear your jokes towards them as well- you were despreate to find answers now

↳ Everyone in the camp was sick of your antics, they ended up refusing to respond to your flirtatious comments after receiving the ever-growing glares and side comments from the vampire spawn- they were tired of your cat-and-mouse game

↳ So one night Shadowheart and Wyll have pulled you into a tent and said that you were going on a date (much to your confusion) as they hurriedly prepared you and practically threw you back out

↳ You notice Astarion staring at you in what appeared to be shock as you ask who your date was and made a flirtatious (joking) comment that if that date was him

↳ The shocked face that you pull in return when he laughs loudly into the night sky only to look back and replay with a dramatic yes, yet you feel overwhelmingly relieved as does Astarion when you accept to go out together

↳ "I hope you know, my love..." Astarion trails off as you both are walking back from your date, smiles across both of your faces in the moonlight

↳ "I know- or well now I do" you finish his sentence as he laughs at your reply and you can't help but laugh at your past self as well

447 notes · View notes

elliewritesfantasy · 1 year ago

Text

Escape in the Night

A/N: I never thought I would be posting fanfiction on this account. However, Baldur’s Gate has captured my attention and my inspiration for months now. I don’t even know if anyone will see this, but I enjoyed writing it, and that’s all that matters.

Some protective dadstarion for you all. And strong boss Tav. Female Tav x Astarion.

Snow fell in great white clumps, blanketing the forest in an eerie silence. Cold crept up your fingers, reaching further with every moment that passed. You remained crouched under the boughs of an old maple tree, the bare branches leaning under the weight of the snowfall. You were burdened with your own weight; a greatsword hung between your shoulder blades, a relic of your paladin oath long forgotten among other worries, and a bundle against your chest. It was the one spot of true warmth on this winter night. Your baby. Astarion’s baby.

Armelle.

Boots shifted, crunching snow and dirt.

“Astarion?” His name was barely a puff of air from your mouth.

“I’m here.” He appeared next to you, and knelt. His silver hair shone even on this starless night, a mess of curls barely tamed. His eyes searched your face, his hands clenched around his longbow.

“Where are the vampires?” you asked.

“They’re close. I need to get you out of here.” Astarion placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to your feet. “I’ve lost a lot of my vampiric senses, but not all.”

“I wish they would see reason.”

“I know.”

You had found a wish scroll for him long ago, as part of your promise after the defeat of the netherbrain. The wish scroll brought him not only the cure for him vampirism, but the promise of a wide open future free of having to hide in the dark. It brought him hope and the freedom to finally say that he could marry you without feeling like he had trapped you in a vampire’s nest for life. And it had brought him his second-most precious gift of all - the wrapped child you clutched with the strength of a mother’s fierce love.

The vampires didn’t know Astarion was cured. They thought he had sired a dhampir, the offspring of a vampire and a powerful being with hungers rarely fully sated. A dhampir would be an asset to their coven, and they wasted no time in searching you out in the two weeks you have had her. You hadn’t meant to have your baby on the way to Waterdeep for a companions’ reunion. She was early. A surprise. But you were already so far from home, it wasn’t worth it to turn back.

Maybe that was a mistake.

“Y/N.” Astarion broke you from your thoughts. “Waterdeep isn’t far. If you run, you can make it while I hold them off.”

“I can’t leave you.” Your soul burned with your paladin’s oath, and your hands itched to strike the vampires down with all of your holy might.

“Just for a second. I’ll meet you there I promise,” Astarion said. His lips lifted in his slightly crooked smile. “If we can survive the Absolute and the attempted end of the world, we can survive this.”

You steeled your nerves, drinking in his familiar confident expression, though it wavered just a bit as the bundle on your chest let out a small, sleepy whine. “Alright”

“I can smell you. I can smell her.” The crooning voice of the vampire master Kazimir cut through the dampened night. Your heart quickened.

“Run.” Astarion notched an arrow, his breath coming in quick, clouded puffs. “Run!”

You didn’t hesitate. Your boots dug into the snow, into the frozen mud and you sprinted with all of the strength left in your body. The lights of Waterdeep twinkled on the horizon. It wasn’t much farther. You could make it.

“Ah, not so fast.”

You skidded to a stop, your throat lurching with fear. Kazimir stood before you, red eyes shining with glee.

“I can’t let you go, not with that creature you have.”

“She’s not a creature,” you growled. You drew your greatsword.

“Oh, but she is. And what a delicious creature she would be to have. She should be raised by a real vampire, not a pithy elf and a weak spawn.” He drew his own blade, a wicked sharp rapier. “Hand her to me peacefully, and I will let you return to your spawn without fuss.”

“No.” You swung your greatsword in an arc, poised to strike.

“A shame. Then I will have to take her from you.” Kazimir lunged forward, blade catching on the woolen edge of your wrap. You lurched back, narrowly escaping his rapier. You raised your sword, letting the anger in your stomach explode outward, lighting the weapon with a golden light. The vampire hissed and shrunk back instinctually at the light. With a cry, you leaped forward, bringing your sword down in a blazing arc. The vampire recovered just in time, spinning out of the way of your smite, his cloak billowing out behind him. He vanished among the trees, flitting between them like a ghost. You reeled, then recovered, and grounded yourself in the snow. You had to be ready.

Your eyes searched the darkness desperately, your eyes struggling to perceive anything beyond the falling snow.

“Behind you!” Astarion ran from the trees, an arrow whistling through the air. It found its mark in the shoulder of the master vampire. He screamed, turning from you to Astarion.

A blast of blue light blinded you all in an instant. A dimension door appeared just to your left with a familiar hand reaching through it.

“Gale!”

“Come with me,” Gale emerged wholly, his hair whipping in the wind of the portal. “Quickly!”

“But, Astarion-“ you looked back the silver elf now fighting Kazimir with his dagger, locked in an expert hand-to-hand battle.

“You have something more important to think about now, eh?” Gale gestured to you once again. You closed your eyes tight, sheathing your weapon. With one last glance at Astarion, you let Gale pull you through the gate and into the candlelit drawing room of his tower.

Shadowheart was the first to run to you. “Y/N, what happened?”

You couldn’t answer, your body wracked with violent shudders and shakes. Some of it was from the cold, some from the fear that made your very soul twist. Shadowheart wrapped you in a blanket. Through a tendril of consciousness, you managed to pull aside your wrap to check on your baby. You collapsed into a chair at the sight of her, eyes still closed, asleep. Safe.

“I’m going back for him.” Gale began furiously searching for a scroll through the precarious stacks upon his end tables.

Shadowheart laid a hand on his shoulder. “You shouldn’t risk it. What if the vampire comes through this time?”

Gale shook his head. “I can’t leave him to that master. I remember how strong Cazador was.”

“We have to trust him,” Shadowheart argued.

You could only sit, your arms holding your baby to you, her head cradled in your hands. A prayer of safety rang through your mind again and again. You had been a thirty minute run from Waterdeep before, and with the fight, maybe it would take him an hour.

“Please, I need you,” you whispered. Gale and Shadowheart retreated, letting you hold your child and warm by the fire while your brain was wracked with thoughts.

Please. Please.

I should have stayed.

Please.

The door to the drawing room burst open. You ran to it immediately, blood rushing in your ears.

“I’m here.”

“Astarion.”

He was here, his armor streaked bright red with blood. His hair was clumped with gore, and a cut on his cheek shone. He drank your face in hungrily, then reached for the woolen wrap, pushing it aside to reveal the perfect girl curled at your chest, her fine, newborn-soft silver hair glowing in the candlelight. Astarion placed a hand on her head, giving her a soft kiss right above her brow. He pressed his forehead against yours, tucking you both into his chest.

Even years after his cure, the feeling of his body warmth was novel. You soaked it in.

“He’s dead,” Astarion said. He twined a hand through your hair, pressing you into his shoulder. “He will never bother us again.”

“I can’t believe you killed him.” You drew back, studying his face.

Astarion laughed, his brows crinkling. “What, you doubted me? Hero of the world, slayer of the netherbrain?”

“You know it was my sword that landed the final strike,” you teased.

Armelle stirred, drawing Astarion’s attention. Oh, how much he had changed. From only being able to care about his own survival, to dedicating his whole existence to the survival of two others. It scared him more than the impending end of existence did.

“It doesn’t matter anyway.” He traced Armelle’s rounded, flushed cheeks, taking in the hair that matched his own, the nose that matched yours. “I have everything that I need right here.”

#astarion #Astarion ancunin #Baldur’s gate #Baldur’s gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #shadowheart #astarion x reader #Astarion x Tav #fanfic #fanfiction #dadstarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction

387 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 10 months ago

Text

Never Love an Anchor

Pairings: gn!Tav x Zevlor

Summary: a ship can never love an anchor so Zevlor cut you loose but kept the love he held for you in his heart, hoping that maybe that might change.

Warnings: talks of cannon violence in bg3

Word count: idk man I wrote this in my notes and it’s more than a Drabble but not a fic so somewhere between? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I highly recommend listening to ‘never love an anchor’ by the crane wives. I read something from @gnomishcunning awhile back about the things that Zevlor deserves and that’s what inspired this so give them love too 💕

Bg3 mastlist

The great Hellrider Commander. The new leader of the exiled Tieflings. An old and broken paladin with no faith to draw strength from. A man who’s been charged with the protection of his people and expected to do right by each and every one without fail.

Commander Zevlor.

Or simply Zevlor as many of his people call him.

You’ve heard many stories about this famed man but never have you laid eyes on him. Elturel isn’t far from Baldurs gate so it wouldn’t be completely unimaginable to say that he somewhat of a hero to you. What happened to the city struck both fear and sorrow into your heart. The worst part, however, is knowing that the tieflings would be the ones to suffer the consequences of actions they had no part in. It takes a selfless soul to take on the duty that Zevlor has and this only adds to the respect you have for him.

The first time you meet is during the fight in front of the Grove. Arrows and spells are flying around as you battle the goblins with people you don’t even recognize. One goblin in particular has evaded your attack almost every time and has moved into a lethal position. Their arrows are landing successfully every time on the tiefling guard above the stone door, nearly sending him to an early grave.

Vaguely you hear someone shout his name as he stumbles backwards when an arrow lands in his shoulder,

“Zevlor!”

Shadowheart is doing what she can to protect you as your world seems to slow. Lae’zel ’chk’s at you when she notices your faltering movements and cuts down a worg coming for you while Astarion sneaks behind the remaining 2 goblins. The one that shot at Zevlor and has been dodging you also notices this and makes to attack you next. Your blade is faster than their bow.

They fall to the ground as you throw your last healing potion at the fallen tiefling and order Shadowheart to use her last spell to heal him.

The battle is won soon after and you’re finally able to meet this hero of yours for the first time. Rather than reducing to a star struck mess, you keep yourself composed as you approach him arguing with Aradin. Somehow you manage to convince them to stop fighting before yet another battle breaks out. You direct Aradin back with a simple point of your finger before turning to the Hellrider. It’s then that you realize there was one important detail missing from his legends; his striking beauty.

His horns stretch and bend far beyond most tieflings indicating both his age and wisdom. The infernal ridges that line his cheekbones and forehead bring attention to his entrancing eyes. Glowing like the enteral torch, Zevlor’s eyes study you with caution as you marvel at his appearance. Moving from his face you take in the worn but cared for chain mail armor that sits upon his strong shoulders that carry the burden of thousands. His chest, board and equally strong as his shoulders, seems to move in time with your own breath; adrenaline filled but calming all the same. It’s a testament to the seasoned paladin that lives within him, his reassuring strength that does not waver in the face of danger. It’s proof of the well trained commander within him that strategizes his every move as well as others.

Whatever words you thought might aid you in introducing yourself seemed to disappear and all you can offer is a half smile. Zevlor thanks you for your help but it’s not without a lingering gaze that cuts through your confidence. It seems he’s mistaken your shyness for indifference towards his people. Regardless he still asks for your help in getting his people to Baldur’s Gate. Your immediate acceptance causes several of your companions to be upset with you. Frankly Shadowheart is the only one who has an inkling about what’s truly going on. That night at camp, she brings whatever wine she could find to your tent and slowly drags the truth out of you.

“I couldn’t help but notice your fascination with Zevlor,” she muses from behind her chalice before adding, “well I could but there’s no fun in that.”

You chuckle at her as you take a sip of your own wine. It’s bitter and foul but it’s something to sooth your nerves no less.

“My fascination? And what exactly did I do for you to notice such a thing?”

“You stared at him as if he were the most beautiful piece of art work you’d ever seen. That or he was a feast after starving for weeks on end.”

“I did no such thing!” You try to defend yourself but it fails horribly when neither of you can stop laughing. “Fine maybe I did but can you blame me? He is a beautiful man.”

Rolling her eyes, Shadowheart finishes her chalice and turns to face you. It’s startling to have her full attention on you like this but the wine has lessened your concern.

“Tell me truly; do you have feelings for him?”

You stare back at her and hope that her goddess might have mercy on enough to smite you where you sit. Alas you have no luck and are forced to answer.

Your eyes find the empty chalice in your own hands as it dangles from your fingers between your knees.

“I think..,” you start with a sigh, “I think that my feelings are irrelevant in our current situation. A relationship, a romance has no place among the fight we’re facing. Matters of the heart have no relevance when making decisions the lives of many.”

Your strangely beautiful yet sobering confession renders the cleric speechless for once. She glances to between the moon and you before nudging you with her shoulder.

“Do not be so quick to cast your feelings aside. You never know when matters of the heart may take precedence.”

Some months later after the nether brain fight, everyone has settled into their lives and gone their separate ways. Wither’s gathering has already passed and this would be maybe a few weeks later. lakrissa and alfira have gotten married and theres to be a small reception in the city at the Elfsong. Of course the heroes of baldurs gate are invited seeing as without your party, the couple wouldn’t have survived this far.

Zevlor and the tieflings have made amends following the finale battle so he’s in attendance as well. He’s still cautious and honestly probably a little scared that they will change their mind and shun him for what happened at Moonrise so he’s a wall flower. He makes his rounds and keeps up polite conversation but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome so he plans to leave pretty early on. The rest of the party has arrived; Karlach and Wyll are the current stars of the hour as they tell fabulous tales of their time in Avernus. Gale and Lae’zel have sent their regards while Astarion and Shadowheart keep their chalices full and their gossip hushed. The only ones missing are you and Halsin.

Everyone knows that the two of you had something special but no one could ever figure out what. Shadowheart swore herself to secrecy and Astarion charmed the conversation to something entirely different. As for the others, no one knew why you chose to follow Halsin to the former shadow lands, only that you had and seemed to be content. Zevlor hasn’t seen you since the last fight and it created a deep rift within himself to think about it.

On one hand, he had nothing more than your conversations and the one near kiss to use as evidence of your affection for him. On the other, he remembered your tears when you found him the mind flayer colony and how you whispered a promise of forgiveness to him before you left to fight Thorm. He recalled in excruciatingly vivid detail the feeling of your tear soaked lips pressing to the corner of his as you pulled away and the utter devastation that filled your eyes.

“They will understand and they will forgive you if you give them the chance, Zevlor. You are their commander, their leader, their champion. You are not at fault for this and they will see that if you let them. Promise me that you will try. Promise me that you will not forsake yourself.” You whispered to him in a cracked and pleading voice, “promise me you’ll try. You deserve it.”

His heart pounded against his ribs as he forced himself to look at you in the eye. His knees buckled as your lips brushed against his. His voice wavered as he agreed to your promise. His strength cracked as you smiled at him and left to face almost certain death.

Zevlor isn’t so foolish to believe that you would’ve chosen to follow him after the finale battle but his heart yearned to think about that possibility. The chance, no matter how small, still felt real even as he anxiously waited for your arrival.

Like a goblin’s arrow, the sight of you walking into the Elfsong arm and arm with Halsin pierces Zevlor’s heart. You do in fact look content; your skin is glowing from being able to eat your fill and sleep as long as your desire. Your hair has been released from its strict hairstyle; bouncing around your face back in soft waves and shines in the pale evening light. Your eyes, while they’ve always been stunning, have a new spark of warmth and joy. No longer are you clad in armor but instead you’re wearing a white and blue patterned outfit that flows around you like water. Your figure has also changed but in this new attire, it becomes even more apparent that you are healthy, happy, and a feast yourself. The smile that blesses his dreams widens as you begin to notice your companions and former allies.

Zevlor casts his gaze to the ground when Halsin presses a kiss to your hairline. This confirmation is too much for him to bear and he finds anything to occupy his mind.

As the gathering quickly turns into a celebration, Zevlor attempts to make his exit. He quickly bids the couple farewell and congratulates them before trying to slip out without being noticed. A deep sigh leaves him as soon as he’s outside the doors and it’s not one of relief.

Frustration maybe.

Anger perhaps.

Or is it shame that forced him to leave without even acknowledging you?

“I knew you were not one for crowds but this I did not expect.”

He halts and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s been caught.

“The city has been treating you well, I take it. You look…” you trail off as you allow the tavern doors to close behind you, “good. Not that you didn’t before but… a life of ease agrees with you.”

Zevlor doesn’t face you, a choice that pains you more than you’d like to admit. He’s almost frozen in place as you approach him.

Coming to stand just beside him, you murmur his name and all but beg him to look at you.

With great effort, he does. A hint of blood woven pain flashes in his infernal eyes as he gazes down at you.

“But how have you been treating yourself, hm? Have you forgiven yourself or have you forsaken yourself to a life of solitude?”

He says nothing but it’s an answer enough; he’s not kept his promise to you. He crosses his arms over his chest and attempts to look more casual about the whole situation.

You begin to say his name but he cuts you off, “go on and enjoy the celebration. There are many people who have been waiting for a chance to speak with you.”

“what about you?”

His thick brows knit in confusion, “me?”

“Is there anyone else out here?” You tease for a moment, “I did mean you, Zevlor. What about you? Were you one of them?”

He wants to pretend that he wasn’t but he can’t, not when he’s been agonizing over this moment for months now. A particularly loud shout draws your attention back to the tavern and when you’re not looking, he can’t help his gaze. Almost immediately he finds himself staring at your revealed chest and the way your shirt does little to conceal the vast plains of your torso. A lump grows in his throat at the thought and he barely swallows it before you look at him again.

“I’ve thought of little else but what it would be like to see you again these last few months,” you say after taking a deep breath, “Halsin finds it difficult to not tease me about how ‘preoccupied’ I seem most days. On our way here, he told me that I better say the words I’ve been pondering all this time or he would do it for me.”

At the mention of Halsin, Zevlor unintentionally stiffens and looks over your shoulder towards the tavern. You follow his line of sight and step in front of him once more. It’s a bold move but no bolder than what you’re about to do.

You place your hands on his folded arms and gently pull, asking him to step closer and to give his attention.

“I know of the rumors about Halsin and I. I’d hoped that you hadn’t heard of them but it appears that you have and now I fear you won’t hear what I have to say.”

Zevlor stares at your hands for a moment before letting his eyes flutter closed. “Speak plainly, y/n.”

His words are uncharacteristically short and cold, a stark contrast to the person you’d come to know. You go to drop your hands and step back but one of his shots out and grabs your wrist, keeping you in place.

“I need you to be clear and precise right now. There cannot be any doubt or confusion from this moment forward.” he tells you in a low tone, one of authority and of a Hellrider Commander.

The hand on your wrist shifts to grip your bicep and pulls you impossibly closer. Your own breathing quickens when your feel your chest press against his and you find yourself leaning into his grip, relying on his strength to keep yourself upright.

Your voice, usually strong and confident, wavers as you whisper, “Halsin and I….we are no more than friends.”

Zevlor stays silent, only searches your face for any tell that you could be lying. The hand on your bicep flexes and his claws press into your skin. You hold back a hiss from the sting, pushing aside the pain to become fully absorbed in his presence. He goes to apologize however your lullaby words silence him, “He is not the one I’ve longed for since we first met.”

His hand tightens and tries to hold you in place but his strength fails him. Your hands drift from his arms to his chest and come to rest on his jaw. The tiefling’s eyes flutter closed at the contact and he takes a deep, sharp breath.

“Y/N,” he warns.

“I’ve admired you from the moment I first heard your story. I’ve known that you were going to be someone deeply important to me from the moment we fought side by side in the grove. I’ve yearned to learn everything about you since you reject my advances at the celebration, claiming that I could have anyone I desired. I’ve cared for you since learning of your fate in the Shadowlands. I realized that I loved you when I found you in moonrise in that awful colony but I’ve loved you far longer. I’ve loved you all of this time but yet I couldn’t find it within myself to tell you for fear that you wouldn’t feel the same.” Tears begin to flow from both of you as you whisper your confession to him and he keeps his eyes closed, “Zevlor I’m in love with you and I want nothing more than to be with you if you’ll have me.”

His tail wraps around your waist, keeping you close while his hands slid up onto your neck and tilt your head up. With a shaky deep breath, he musters the strength to open his eyes and look at you. The old paladin has forsaken his forgotten god many months ago and promised to live in your honor. He’s swore an oath to you that you know nothing about but it would seem that you have done the same.

“My love for you knows no bounds and no rivals,” he whispers as his lips brush against yours, close but not close enough. “I’ve waited long enough to hear that you feel the same. Promise to me that this is not some cruel joke, a drunken confession but the truth. Promise to me that you truly mean that you love me.”

“I love you,” you hastily whisper before finally capturing him in a passionate kiss. A groan slips from him at the feeling of your desperation to convey your feelings but it’s returned tenfold.

It seems that Shadowheart was right all those months ago.

#zevlor #zevlor x tav #zevlor bg3 #zevlor x reader #zevlor imagine #tiefling #tiefling bachelors #bg3 imagine #bg3 tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3

124 notes · View notes

reverieblondie · 5 months ago

Text

The Dark Prince: Chapter 3, The Morning After

Paring- Dark Prince Rolan x Blessed Princess F!Tav

Warnings- 18+ MDNI, will include violence and smut, and two pinning idiots.

Summary: Tavs first night in Waldemar is not like she expected... So the next day she's not in the best of moods when it comes to her new husband. maybe they should talk about it...or not.

A/N: Its here!! I hope you are as excited as me and Sweet anon are! (huge shout out for them for helping me with the editing and helping me with parts I just could not get right! they are a life saver!) I hope you enjoy!

<- Chapter 2

Vignette 1: Retribution (Do you want a short read about the others exploring Waldermar? Well here you go!)

He never came...

Tav slumps her head within her hands and groans.

She had been agonizing over making the right first impression ever since Sivailon had agreed to the Dark Prince's proposal. She had forgone sleep and leisure, even during what would be the final days she had left to spend in her home and among familiar faces, to instead learn more about the kingdom she was to help rule. She had sat and smiled and held her tongue all evening in the face of his blatant indifference and disregard towards her and now he hadn’t even bothered showing up to consummate the marriage he had wanted!

Is this to be a sexless marriage? Was the Dark King just shy? Did he maybe want to take things slow?

She is certain they could figure out something to make this work if only he would just talk to her!

An explanation, an agreement to discuss matters at a later time, she'd even take a note under the door if it meant getting so much as an inkling on what to expect.

Three sharp knocks interrupt roiling thoughts. A part of her wonders if it is the Dark King but...

"My Lady? May we come in?” Shadowheart's voice chimes through the door.

There is the sound of movement quickly followed by three more knocks,

—though it would be more accurate to call it bangs—on the door.

"Make yourself decent, dark usurper!" Lae'zel demanded, "I have no qualms wrenching this door from its frame!”

As Tav hurriedly wrapped one of the blankets around herself, she could hear what sounded like Wyll's voice trying to calm down his fellow knight. Rising to her feet and not sparing another thought towards how she might appear, she opened the door to be greeted by each of her friends wearing their own faces of concern.

Shadowheart attempted to school her expression as she gave her fellow selûnite a once over, “It seems you had a restless night…"

"He didn’t show." Tav blurted out curtly, her fingers burying themselves further into the blanket she clutched around her.

Her court exchanged looks of collective confusion before Shadowheart tried to tactfully voice it, “You didn't see him after we left?"

"No, I didn't see him." Tav snapped, turning on her heels and striding back into her room as she felt her frustration about to spill over, "The Dark Prick never came!”

Shadowheart immediately rushed over to her friend, equal parts surprised and concerned. Lae’zel smirked at seeing a glimpse of Tav's fierceness again before the githyanki pulled Wyll into the room with them when her fellow knight hesitated between entering or waiting outside the room. Wyll began to bring up concerns about propriety and decorum, causing a humorless laugh to rip from Tav's throat before she could stop it. Shooting him an apologetic glance, she made her way behind the changing screen as Shadowheart began gathering clothing and various other supplies to help the new Queen get ready.

"You two can wait outside if you want. Though I doubt it would make much difference to him either way." Tav called to her knights, dropping her blanket and kicking it to the side with lingering irritation before yanking off her slip, "And if he doesn't like it, then he can march his tail down here and talk to me about it himself."

There was a moment of silence before she heard the door click shut.

"That he can." came Wyll's soft spoken reply, the faint smile audible in his words as was Lae'zel's noise of agreement.

Tav couldn't help but smile lightly herself, once again grateful to have such loyal friends with her now. Just knowing that they were here with her, here for her, helped ease the storm of her emotions to a more manageable level.

It was replaced with a momentary flash of frantic embarrassment when she rushed to change her ruined underwear. The evidence of that damned haunting, irritating, delicious dream is swapped out and thrown in the hamper before Shadowheart joins her behind the changing screen. They'd had a dress made of the two kingdoms' colors for Tav's first day in Waldemar... but maybe that one would have to wait for a different time. A dress of soft blue with lilac flowers ebroed on the skirt was selected instead.

Shadowheart helps pull the dress over Tav's head before the lady-in-waiting started to lace it up. There is a comfortable silence in the room as Tav grabs a brush, running it through her hair as she begins to get her thoughts back in order. After finish with the dress, Shadowheart teasingly swats the Queen's hands aside to take over. Eventually, they both exited from behind the changing screen as the Queen placed the royal circlet upon her brow with a determined smile. "Shall we head to breakfast?” Tav proposed before pulling a somewhat exaggerated face, "Well... Assuming we can find our way there after last night..."

Lae'zel began listing off the most efficient routes she'd found to reach the locations where a meal would likely be served while Wyll tried to give Tav a chiding look for her comment despite clearly trying to fight back his amused smile. Shadowheart bumped the two knights away from the door before opening it to allow them through. As they exit the grand room, the door across from them on the opposite side of the hall is gently creaked open.

Tav paused thinking it could be Alfira or perhaps one of the other tieflings they'd seen last night, but what she sees makes her blood run cold. A woman with firey orange hair that contrasts her gray skin, which her dark dress showed a generous amount of, slinks out of the room, a spaded tail curling gracefully behind her as she stretched her vast wings and turned her horned head to regard the small audience. The woman—no, the fiend—smirked, looking Tav up and down then her dark eyes seem to move past Tav and that smile grows wider.

"My, I didn’t expect he would put you so close to his room.” The fiend says in an almost sing-song voice, wiping the corner of her mouth with a thumb as she approaches.

"His room... ?" Tav tries to ignore the cold, sinking feeling in her chest.

"Why, the King's room, of course." the fiend answered with barely veiled condescension, "Whose else would it be? Surely his wife should know that."

It was no secret that the usurper of Waldemar had devils in his court but this... In his room?

"Quite bold of you to have such a parade leave your private chambers in the morning." the devil continued, "It could cause a rather... scandalous impression should the wrong person catch wind of it."

"Enough!” Wyll snapped, inserting himself between them, "If you have something to tell the Queen, then speak plainly and with respect."

"At ease, loyal pup,” She smirked, briefly revealing her pointed teeth. “I’m only teasing.”

Lae'zel made a point to place herself in such a way that the fiend could see the githyanki's blade that was being partially drawn from its sheath. However, the devil didn't seem to react to this; instead letting her eyes slide back to Tav.

"I am Mizora—one of the King's personal advisors." the stranger introduced herself, "Forgive any impoliteness you perceived on my behalf. It feels as though I already know you all so well."

Mizora slowly inched closer. Tav's eyes never left the fiend, but she could still feel as Shadowheart further tensed beside her.

"Of course, everyone knows you, Tav. Then her little handmaiden Shadowheart and your novel gith knight Lae’zel." Mizora listed, the saccharine sweetness oozing from her words belied by the uncomfortably sharp anticipation in her eyes, "And lastly Wyll Ravenguard, a knight of noble blood and even more noble spirit. Quite intriguing, I must say.”

The fiend leans in closer towards him and Tav is struck by the overwhelming need to get this devil's attention away from her friend.

"Is the King in his room?” she blurts out, drawing Mizora's focus from the knight.

"Not currently." the devil hummed, "I had been hoping to have a... private meeting with him about some things."

"Oh?" Tav asked, fighting to keep her voice level and to not get caught on what this fiend might be implying—that could be dealt with later when there wasn't a devil far too close to herself and her friends.

"The King is quite the avid study, even among wizards. He likes to know things and encourages his court to do the same. He is a very busy man. No time or patience for interruptions or those who can't contribute." Mizora continued, "But listen to me prattle on. What was it that you needed from him, hm? I'm sure I could pass along the message for you."

I don't trust you to pass me in the hallway, much less to pass along a message.

Tav swallowed, praying silently to Selûne that she did not reveal her disquieted agitation in front of this devil, "I was hoping to have breakfast with him. Share our first meal together.”

Mizora made a show of trying to stifle her laughter before a more familiar voice cut in from down the hall.

"Mizora!" They all turned to see Alfira walking towards them with haste, her posture and polite smile as tight and strained as the enthusiasm in her voice, "I see you've met the new Queen!"

The male tiefling the King had hugged last night followed close behind Alfira's heels. Unlike the bard he stood beside, his anxious, searching gaze silently jumped between them all.

“Alfira, how good of you to finally arrive." Mizora barely even spared the two tieflings a glance, suddenly seeming far less interested in the conversation, "We were just discussing what the Queen plans to do this day. I felt it only appropriate that I take the opportunity to properly introduce myself and offer my assistance, seeing as you were running late."

"How thoughtful of you..." the bard replied, expression still tight as her eyes darted between Tav and the fiend.

"Of course! And I couldn’t help but get so… enthralled with the conversation. Newlyweds are so precious with their little ideas, after all. She was telling me of her hope to share a meal with the King when you joined us.” The devil hummed, a small smirk returning to her lips as she looked Alfira up and down. "But, now that you're here, I suppose I'd best leave your job to you and attend to my own. Ta-ta!"

With a coy wave of her hand, a darkness rippled across Mizora's form, quickly enveloping her before she vanished with a small burst of sparks and embers. The two tieflings didn't so much as flinch—though Alfira continued to stare silently at where the fiend had been even after the ciders disappeared. The male teifling looks between the bard and Tav.

He eventually let out a slightly nervous chuckle and gave Tav a weak but warm smile, “Devils, right?"

“It's... definitely company we're unaccustomed to." Tav admitted.

"I guess I should finally make my introduction since everyone else seems to keep beating me to it. I’m Cal," he walked forward with his hand outstretched, "Rolan's brother."

Wait, brother?

Tav resist the urge for her jaw to drop as she looks at the tiefling—his square jaw, dark dusty colored hair, and fiery orange eyes.

Cal gives a much more genuine smile and light hearted chuckle, “Judging from your expression, I’m guessing Rolan hasn't mentioned us.”

Us?

Before Tav can ask Cal for clarification, Alfria cleared her throat and bowed before Tav and her court, “I'm so sorry for being late, your Majesty. Please, forgive me.”

"There's nothing to forgive. I'm sure you were simply busy with other matters." Tav answered, though the bard didn't seem entirely reassured.

"Thank you, your Majesty." Alfira straightened, her hands clasped behind her back, “I had meant to ask if there was anything you may need. I know the majority of your belongings have yet to arrive, so I would be happy to find suitable replacements for you until then.”

Tav tilted her head, considering for a moment. The room she had been gifted was well supplied with various amenities. Even if it still didn't quite feel like her own space just yet, most of what she really needed was already there except for her personal shrine to Selûne.

“I suppose... Are there any silver vessels I could keep in my room for a time? Cups, chalices, goblets, and such." Tav eventually asked, before adding on, "And perhaps a jug of milk, if there is a way to keep it from spoiling."

Alfira blinks in confusion before hastily dipping into another bow, “Of course, your Majesty! Right away!”

With that, the bard was off with surprising speed. Soon she had disappeared around the corner in a rush of color and jingles, leaving Cal, Tav, and her court alone in the hallway.

After a moment, Tav felt a light tap on her shoulder. Looking towards it, she found Shadowheart regarding her with a slightly pinched expression.

"My Lady, we still don’t know how to reach the dining hall from here... or even if that is where we are to go."

Tav looked from her, then back down the hallway where the closest thing they'd had to a guide was now long gone, before finally looking towards Lae'zel in hopes that the knight had found some indication of where they should go. The githyanki approached Cal, her very presence seeming to command his attention.

"You, one who stares," she demanded, "You will escort us where we must go."

“Ha, right of course! It's this way.” he says a bit shyly before waving for the group to follow him, still laughing slightly to himself, "I'm just glad you didn't want to kick my tail again. It's too early for that."

Tav feels her eyes widen slightly as she looks from her new brother-in-law to Lae’zel, neither of whom seemed too thrown off by the statement. She was clearly missing something here but Tav just shook her head; the Queen still needed to worry about getting a handle on her own relationships here—especially that between her and her new husband. So long as nobody seemed distressed or perturbed, concerning herself with the relationships of others would have to wait.

Turns out that the dining hall was not as nearly confusing to get to as Tav had dreaded. The route Cal brought them down was mildly lengthy but still relatively straightforward—at least compared to the tour they'd been given last night.

Like everything else, it would take time to grow accustomed to, but their walk allowed Tav to begin learning more about Cal. Apparently he was a chancellor in his brother's court. Though Cal admitted he didn’t exactly get to help Rolan handle matters of politics or the whole kingdom, the younger tiefling was in charge of the various day-to-day operations around the castle and making sure those could be carried out smoothly.

"I basically handle the smaller scale things Rolan doesn't want to be bothered with." Cal says, fondly rolling his eyes, "I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Even if it can keep me pretty busy."

This was proven when, right as their group arrived at the dining hall, Cal ended up being pulled away by a few servants who needed him.

With an apology and a bow he promised he would have to join them for breakfast at a different time.

"I don’t remember the last time we all had a meal together, but it's something we should definitely try now that you're here.” the tiefling smiled, "I’m sure we'll have plenty of time to chat, considering you're family now.”

Those words left Tav with her own smile. Cal had been so warm and welcoming, and when he spoke of his brother it was with such fondness. It was apparent how much he truly loves his brother. While Tav doubts any affection will ever bloom between herself and her husband, she is now slightly more hopeful for building mutual respect in their marriage. If Cal can speak of his brother in such high regard, then the Dark King certainly couldn't be all bad.

As Tav pauses before the two dark colored doors, she feels her heart thumping in her chest. Despite last night, she still wants this to go well. Taking a steadying breath, she reminds herself that this could still be the start of prosperous partnership... sneering vampire spawn and devils aside...

Just be open-minded and polite.

Shadowheart waits until Tav gives her a nod before opening the doors. The Queen keeps a smile on her face as the room is revealed to her. That smile falters when she sees that the seats lining the long dining table are all empty. Her brows furrowed as she walked in further, eyes glancing about the space.

There is food, lit chandeliers and candelabras, a few guards, and various decorations.

Yet there is no sign of her husband.

"Ah, your Majesty!” an enthusiastic voice called from the far side of the room.

Coming in through the servants' entrance, Tav sees a man with longish brown hair and a single earring in his left ear. In his hand, he holds a plate of food that he quickly places down as he approaches.

"The moon-blessed, divine soul sorcerer! Tav of Sivailon! Queen of Waldemar! A true pleasure to at last make your acquaintance." he began, reaching out and shaking Tav's hand, "You have already become a popular topic in the castle, I will have you know. Honestly can’t go anywhere without overhearing some discussion or other about you. I, for one, am happy to have you here.”

Tav listens as carefully as she can to the man and his rambling. It seems like everyone but the Dark King is friendly here.

The man's eager smile is framed by a short beard, a smile that takes on a hint of embarrassment when the human's dark eyes glance at the faces of Tav and her court to see their lost expressions, “Oh! Right, I suppose I skipped a few steps in making introductions. Apologies, I'm usually better at this. I'm Gale, magister of Waldemar and, if I dare say, a trusted member of the King's court. Us wizards like to keep close, you know.”

Gale gives Tav a bow that she welcomes with a smile and a curtsy of her own, “It's a pleasure to meet you. I do not intend to be dismissive, but..."

"Where is the Dark King?” Shadowheart finished for her bluntly, sparing Tav from having to ask after her husband, again.

Gale looks a bit surprised at the lady-in-waiting's curt interjection, but only for a moment, “Ah, yes! King Rolan has already gotten his breakfast and begun to go about his duties. He was rather eager to resume after returning last night—wanted to be filled in on every little thing that happened while he was away—so I can hardly say it's a surprise that mindset carried over to this morning."

Tav once again feels her heart sink in disappointment.

"Ah- However, I was asked to join you, lest you be left to believe you've married into a most ill-mannered kingdom. I, for one, happen to be very grateful for this chance to make you and your court's acquaintance." Gale quickly pressed on, his words slightly rushed as he attempted to keep the air positive, "I've even asked Tara to join us, if she can spare the time. But, should she decide to grace us with her presence, I can assure you this... ah... hiccup in your day will be swiftly forgotten."

"It's not the kingdom that is ill-mannered." Tav heard Shadowheart grumble under her breath as she pulled out a chair for her Lady.

As Tav sat, a small handful of servants wasted no time in placing various foods and dishes before the Queen—not even giving her a chance to examine the options herself before setting her plate. Tav did her best to remain unbothered at yet another choice seemingly being made for her, even one as simple as this; the servants were likely just following instructions anyway.

"So what duties is the King seeing to this morning?" Tav began, plucking an orange slice from a small artfully arranged fruit platter, "I would very much like to know if it's something I could be invited to accompany him with. Or are there other matters that I could instead attend to?"

Though Tav believes she had chosen her words with the utmost of care, Gale appears to nearly choke on his food, much to the Queen's surprise and mild alarm.

"Urm- Right. Your duties... Well, you see... um..." Gale adjusted in his chair, probably trying to get his thoughts in order and regain his composure, but Tav could recognize the expression of someone mulling over how to deliver information they worried would be poorly received. The interaction leaves Lae'zel and Shadowheart to share a questioning glance before the lady-in-waiting pours a goblet of water for the wizard upon noticing the Queen's look of concern. Gale gratefully accepted the goblet with a quick nod of thanks, downing the water before clearing his throat.

However, Gale's chance to speak was promptly cut off with the sound of an exasperated sigh from Shadowheart. “If you say that the King decided she needs more time to adjust, then you will be the first to learn I do not share my Lady's patiences.”

Gale simply stared at Shadowheart with surprise for a moment before his expression fell into a somewhat pensive smile, his eyes not stern but with a certain warmth, "If I may be honest, I personally believe it is the King who needs the time to adjust. He is... Well, to say it plainly, the man can be a bit of a control freak—finds it difficult to delegate tasks rather than trying to take care of it all himself."

He should have thought of that before proposing marriage and co-rulership...

Tav's thoughts must have shown on her face, as the wizard gave her a sympathetic yet knowing half smile, “Grace him with your patience, your Majesty. Besides, with no duties, you are free to explore to your heart's content! I heard you had... an interesting tour of the castle last night, but we have a vast library, the gardens and the palace grounds are rather beautiful to behold this time of year, and then there are the training grounds where you can watch Zevlor and Karlach train our soldiers into top shape-"

“You will tell us more about these training grounds, wizard." Lae'zel declared, the mention of them having instantly caught the githyanki's attention and interest.

"You will find it on the far right of the castle grounds a little ways off from the gardens. Needless to say, you're all welcomed to use and practice there as you like." Gale answered, appearing mostly unfazed by Lae'zel's interjections and instead seeming pleased with having caught at least one person's interest, "If you're ever having trouble finding suitable sparring partners, then I could always see about conjuring up a few opponents. Alternatively, if I happen to be unavailable, you could ask Leon for the same—assuming you're able to find where the sorcerer is lurking about.”

A fellow sorcerer?!

Tav tried to contain her excitement at the news, as she had rarely gotten the chance to meet other sorcerers in the past. Though she had always wanted to become better practiced with her magic, she could only teach herself so much—even with all the resources at her disposal in Sivailon. Perhaps she could learn from Leon? Or at the very least she might meet someone else who shares some of her experiences.

Trying not to appear overeager, Tav softly cleared her throat, “I look forward to meeting Leon; I feel we would have much to discuss.”

"Well, I'd be more than happy to give you two a proper introduction. At this time of day, he's probably tucked himself away in our shared study, in his quarters, or somewhere among the shelves of the castle's library. I'll warn that we might have a hard time finding him in that last one, as it is quite vast." Gale smiled, "Though there is also a chance we'll cross paths with Rolan while there. The King is quite the avid reader. Always so eager to learn.”

Unless it's about his wife.

The bitter thought rose unbidden and unwelcome in Tav's mind as she fought to keep her expression and voice from betraying her, "I think we walked past the library a few times last night while Alfira was giving us our tour, though we never actually entered it.”

Gale let out another small chuckle, though the Queen couldn't tell if it was forced, nervous, or genuine, "While I admit I'm somewhat guilty of losing track of time there myself, that place might as well be an extension to Rolan's study."

Tav lifted a cup to her mouth, stalling and hoping to hide her disquiet from the wizard who was clearly trying to be nothing but kind and didn't deserve to deal with her frustration. It was almost a relief when a refined voice cut through the air, pulling away everyone’s attention.

"His Majesty's study?" the new voice asked, somewhat incredulously, "More like a second bedroom, though you're hardly much better, Mr. Dekarios, with how often I've caught you asleep there.”

While Tav and her court looked around for the owner of this new voice, Gale's expression lit up as he looked down at something just behind his chair.

"Tara! You made it!"

Everyone turned back in time to see a green-eyed calico cat leaping upon the backrest of Gale's chair, a pair of feathered wings lightly fluttering to steady the landing before folding neatly against the creature's back.

If she hadn't known her fellow selûnite so well, Tav would have been startled when Shadowheart excitedly grasped her hand at the sight.

"A tressym..." the cleric eagerly began to explain, "Brilliant creatures with magical abilities to match.”

"Brilliant? Oh, my!" the tressym—Tara—perked up, that refined voice evidently coming from her and now sounding pleasantly surprised, "How delightful to meet someone else with such fine taste. Mr. Dekarios, she has such an astute sense for character. You know what I say about a woman who can sense character!"

At that Gale's eyes widened slightly, flicking from the tressym to Shadowheart before he somewhat ducked his head, “Yes, Tara, you've mentioned it… Multiple times, might I add."

“Well, if you actually listened more often, then I would have no need to remind you so often.”

"Tara, must we do this now?" Gale lightly chuckled, dragging a hand down his face, which now seemed to be a tad flushed, "Surely it can wait until after our new friends here-"

"Oh, don't delay on our behalf." Shadowheart smirked, voice tinted with mirth and the smallest amount of mischief, "Besides, it sounds like you wouldn’t have to do this now if you just listened to her, Gale.”

Tav felt bad for wanting to laugh at the poor wizard's predicament. It seemed her lady-in-waiting was already finding a new furry friend in Tara, but the Queen still didn't miss the way Shadowheart's hand twitched as the cleric restrained herself from reaching out to pet the tressym from across the table.

"Tara," Gale tried again, awkwardly gesturing toward Tav, "We are in front of the Queen.”

Fur fluffing out, Tara stretched to see around the wizard's head and her eyes widened as they found Tav. Unsure what else to do, the Queen offered her a small wave.

"You let me prattle on like this in front of the Queen?!" Tara hissed, taking flight in a flurry of motion as she bapped a paw against the side of Gale's head, "Had you not thought to give us a proper introduction?! Have you no manners, Mr. Dekarios?!"

The wizard only laughed and, by Selûne's light, Tav was fighting hard to hide her own amusement at the scene playing out before her. While poor Tara clearly seemed mortified, seeing the banter was honestly a breath of fresh air compared to the rehearsed lines Tav had been learning to expect thus far and the Queen couldn't help but steal a glance at her friends to gauge if they were as amused as herself.

Lae’zel stared at the tressym in narrow-eyed confusion. It reminded Tav of when the githyanki had met Scratch. Shadowheart was probably the only one of them to have already known what a tressym is, but even she seemed to have been surprised that Tara could speak; Tav could only guess how surprised Lae'zel must be to see a cat with wings. The Queen's face fell when she turned her attention to Wyll. His expression seemed oddly grim and Tav realized how quiet her friend had been this whole meal.

"It’s quite alright." Tav spoke up, making a note to check in on her knight when they had a moment alone, "Give it enough time and I'm sure you will eventually overhear my court and I sharing a bit of verbal jousting ourselves."

Tara eventually settled once again and the rest of the meal passed relatively peacefully. By the end of it, Lae'zel had left to continue her exploration of the palace and Tara had ended up on Shadowheart's lap, much to the cleric's delight.

As a small handful of servants began clear the table, Tav excused herself, trying to not be too hasty when she explained her departure with wanting to clear a space in her quarters for keeping the silver and milk Alfira was gathering. Ever observant, Shadowheart shot her fellow selûnite a glance that silently asked several questions before nodding in understanding when the Queen inquired if her friend would mind staying back with Gale and Tara to see if they knew of any magic that could help prevent the milk from spoiling. Thankfully, both wizard and tressym seemed eager to be of assistance, not even stumbling at what must have sounded like an odd request when divorce from the context, and the two were already rattling off potential solutions as Tav and Wyll exited the dining hall.

While Tav had no reason to distrust the pair, she still wanted at least some degree of privacy for the conversation she and her knight were about to have. Tav maintained a slow pace as she tried to remember the way back to her parlor with Wyll at her side.

"So, what's on your mind?" She eventually murmured once the voices from the dining hall had faded.

"Ah... Well... Shadowheart seemed rather pleased about Tara." Wyll began, his eyes not being able to hold Tav's gaze for long, "We all know she already misses Scratch. Perhaps we could write to Jaheira about getting the furry fellow here."

“Wyll, we both know that is not what I'm asking." Tav raised her hand before her friend could try to protest, "I've known you since we were children, Wyll. We're practically siblings. After all these years, after growing up together, I can tell when something is weighing on you."

The pair fell silent for a moment, the only sounds between them being that of their footsteps on the stone floors faintly echoing through the hallways.

"It was worth a shot..." Her knight sighed, a weak smile lifting the corner of his lips before his expression grew grim again, “I- That fiend from before… I didn’t like how she spoke to you, to us. For the King to work with one..."

Tav nodded as Wyll fell silent again, “I was never thrilled about the idea of the vampire spawn and fiends in his court, but I admit that actually seeing them in person is... I suppose that just makes it all feel more real. We can't even pretend that they're just rumors now."

Wyll let out a hum of agreement. They lapsed into silence again as Tav steadied herself for what she was about to say next.

"If staying here is no longer something you are comfortable with-"

"No." her friend's answer was firm and unwavering, "I said I'd be here for you and I meant it. We all did."

She let out a sigh of relief and flashed Wyll a grateful smile, "It is a little jarring though, given how the King has otherwise surrounded himself with rather kind people, at least from what I’ve seen so far."

"We'll just need to keep our distance from her and any other darkness that lingers within these halls.” Wyll replied, their paces slowing to a stop as the pair glanced around the unfamiliar hallway, "Well, once we figure out how to navigate them first."

With an irritated groan, Rolan pushed aside the pages he had been futilely trying to read for a third time now and dragged a hand down his face, as if he could simply wipe the exhaustion off himself. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, having spent most of it ensuring that word of his union with the princess of Sivailon would reach all corners of Waldemar by morning. Then the newly made King had turned his attention towards catching up on and resuming the countless other tasks that came with being a King, consulting the notes his court made during his absence and reading through the missives that never seemed to stop coming, before eventually falling asleep in his study.

He had woken up hours ago, his neck sore as he lifted his head from where it rested upon a missive from Thuria, a mining settlement on the outskirts of the kingdom. After checking to make sure that he hadn't damaged the parchment or the important information written upon it, the Dark King stood and began his day.

Tired as he was, Rolan was grateful that Gale let his fellow wizard lead the conversation when they crossed paths on the tiefling's way to the castle library. The normally verbose human only nodded as Rolan ordered that a tray of food be brought to his study, as had become the ruler's habit in the years since assuming power. The King was further relieved when Gale accepted the instruction to entertain their new Sivailon residents at breakfast—or whenever their moon-blessed royal would wake; perhaps Rolan would be lucky and she would only be awake at night.

Rolan shook his head in frustration as he recalled glimpsing how the people lining the streets of the capital had watched in awe at their new Queen's display of magic. The Dark King didn't have time to get hung up over his bride's subpar spellcraft, no matter how much the wizard in him bristled at the divine soul sorcerer's lack of skill and discipline, no matter how much it burned seeing the near reverence upon the people's faces—even as he saw how her cantrip flickered and wavered while his spells had steadily coiled through the air.

It didn't help that he is finding it rather difficult to keep his eyes open. Hells, Cal and Lia were probably correct about him not resting enough. He made another noise of bitter frustration as that text started to blur on the page… again.

As Rolan feels his eyes begin to grow heavy he shakes his head and jerks himself to his feet before dragging himself to the study's large window. Gripping the stone window frame, the Dark King allowed the sun to warm his face as he watched Waldemar's capital city bustling beyond the gates separating it from the palace grounds. It was still hard to believe that three years ago this kingdom was threatening to expel him and all others like him from their borders. Now he, one of the very "monsters" that was to be driven out, stands as its King.

Rolan's grip on the stone window frame tightens, as if the tiefling were trying to wring something out of the smoothly carved rock. He should never have hesitated all those years ago. It shouldn't have taken what happened to Lia for him to take action.

The Dark King shoved those thoughts aside, striding back to his elaborately engraved wooden desk, snatching up the missive from Thuria and one of the books he'd retrieved earlier from the library. His work is far from done and he would not make the mistake of hesitating again.

Three years later and there was still so much to do and more to prove. His marriage to a more palatable and noble-born figurehead was just the first step of that. Now, he needed to find where to direct his focus to next.

Absent-mindedly straightening his black jacket, Rolan opened a heavy door and stepped out into the hallway as he began to run through where he would most likely find Minthara about this time. In the back of his mind, the Dark King once again hoped he would be fortunate enough to not run into his new Queen while he looked for his spymaster. Perhaps he should ask Minthara to learn the schedules of their Sivailon residents so that he would know how to avoid them? Then again, the spymaster was likely already planning to do so anyway. Besides, the worst his new Queen would probably do is demand tea parties or for a tailor to make her dresses. Poor Kanon will be worked to the bone if that ends up being the case, but the wizard supposed he could pay his fellow tiefling extra for the work—especially if it meant keeping the royal sorcerer out of his hair.

Deciding he was thinking too much about his wife, Rolan turned his attention back to tracking down Minthara and back to the situation he wished to speak with his spymaster about. Summoning a mage hand to flip through the book he now balanced open with one of his real hands, Rolan's gaze alternated between trying to skim the pages for what he was looking for and taking brief glances around himself as he walked down the halls.

Perhaps Rolan shouldn't have been surprised when he collided with someone as he rounded a corner to the main hallway, the loud clattering and sloshing sounds which followed making him flinch back more than the initial impact had. Instinctively, he held the book away from himself even after he had already felt liquid splash against its cover and onto his hand, as if holding it away from him would somehow spare the book of further damage.

Rolan glared ahead of himself, irritation flaring and ready to snap at whoever he ran into, only to see a startled Alfira and a frowning Lakrissa. The wizard looked at what the two tiefling women were holding; Alfira was balancing a set of trays that had evidently been piled with silver objects while Lakrissa was hefting along a pair of jugs filled with... milk?

"What the Hells are you two doing?!" he demanded, confusion lessening the otherwise harsh bite of his words, "What is all this crap?!"

"Take it up with your wife." Lakrissa snapped back at her King, clearly not appreciating his tone, "Alfira had to fetch 'all this crap' at her request!"

"What does she even need it for?” Rolan pressed, his temper threatening to rise again as he racked his mind for any sort of explanation, "Material components for some kind of spell?"

"No clue." Lakrissa scoffed, placing the two milk jugs on the floor so she could help Alfira in gathering up the fallen silver, “We've just been bringing silver vessels and milk to her room and leaving them there.”

"Bringing it to- Oh, this is ridiculous!" the wizard sputtered in mounting frustration before he stormed down the halls towards his Queen's chambers. "Do not bring her anymore until I figure out what the Hells she is up to!”

If his anger upsets or alarms the servants, none of them show it. Instead, his fellow tieflings merely move aside as they see Rolan marching down the halls and around corners until he finally reaches the Queen's chambers. Through the heavy wood of the closed door, he can hear at least two muffled voices from within the room.

Not wasting any time on trying to deduce the owner of the voices or what they are saying, Rolan delivered two hard knocks that silenced whoever was on the other side. He doesn't have to wait long before the door opens to reveal his wife, though her expression hardens into a mask of neutrality when she sees who is standing in the hall. Whoever she'd been expecting, it clearly hadn't been the Dark King she was married to.

"Yes?” the sorcerer prompted him expectantly after a moment, not opening the door any further than she already had even as Rolan saw her human knight come up behind her.

"I demand entry.” Rolan stated curtly, his tail quietly lashing behind him as he waited for her to acquiesce in the face of the fiendish usurper and he tries to ignore the bitterness at the thought-

"No."

He barely has enough time to process her single syllable response before the door has already clicked shut.

Surprise gave way to burning frustration as the wizard loudly knocked his fist against the door, "I demand entry at once!”

The only response he receives is the sound of the door being locked.

Rolan dragged his hands down his face as he glared at the dark wood. As irritating as it is when people would flinch or fawn over the Dark King when in his presence, at least they would still be cooperating with him.

This woman is infuriating…

"Rolan?"

He turns his attention to see Gale and the Queen's lady-in-waiting, the two carrying various odds and ends including more silver. Even Tara was there with a few items held delicately in her jaws.

"You're in on this as well?" Rolan asked, doing his best to ignore the half-elf silently glaring at him, "What is going on?”

Before Gale can respond they all hear the door unlock and open again. The Queen's face is stern as she looks at her husband but brightens upon seeing the others. Murmuring a brief thank you to the human wizard and tressym, she pushes the door open a little further to let her lady-in-waiting inside. Before Gale can move to follow, Rolan blocked his fellow wizard's path with an arm while his glowing eyes remained fixed to his wife.

"Explain yourself." he bit out, his blood nearly boiling, "What are you up to?"

The Queen's knight positioned himself behind her, ready to bar anyone else from trying to slip through the doorway. The sorcerer briefly placed a comforting hand on the human's shoulder before turning to face the tiefling with narrowed eyes.

"Rather presumptuous of you to demand entry into my chambers like this." the Queen replied, her voice level but firm, "I must admit I'm also a tad surprised by your sudden insistence, considering you didn’t even bother to visit me last night.”

"What?" Rolan straightened his posture, bristling at her tone even as he stared her down with growing confusion, “Why the Hells would I have come to see you last night?!"

Had he looked away, Rolan would have missed how the sorcerer's jaw had clenched and how her brow twitched as if struggling to maintain her composure. Closing her eyes for a moment, she slowly dragged in a harsh breath while her knight and lady-and-waiting shot each other a knowing look.

“Right. Of course." the Queen finally answered coldly, like she had to pry each word from her own mouth as she tossed him a parting glare before turning back into her room, "Now, excuse me, but I need to resume... adjusting.”

Rolan had barely begun taking a step to follow before her lady-in-waiting was there, pushing the King aside with a hand as if rebuffing an unruly apprentice, "Apologies, your Highness, the Queen will not be seeing anyone now. Goodbye.”

Then the half-elf slammed the door in his face, leaving Rolan tongue tied and seething. For a moment he contemplated banging on the door again and demanding an explanation.

What do they mean she would not be seeing anyone?! She had just been accepting silver and milk and whatever else it was Gale and Tara were bringing her, all with a smile on that pretty face of hers!

Feeling his tail erratically whip back and forth in response to his simmering temper, Rolan turned and stormed away. The Dark King refused to let their Sivailon residents see how much they had gotten under his skin. It wasn't long before the tiefling heard Gale following close behind. As soon as they were several halls away, Rolan's temper finally snapped and he began ranting at his fellow wizard.

Angry words spilled from Rolan like floodwaters from a shattered dam. The Dark King could hardly keep up with his own indignant tirade as it went from questioning why the Hells the Queen was having people running around gathering milk and silver for her bloody room to her refusal to answer him to the other confounding nonsense she had said to him as if he was the one who needed to explain himself to her!

"Visit her? Why would I have visited her last night?! Does she mistake me for one of her servants, there to be at her beck-and-call?!"

Gale, who had been following and waiting for his own opportunity to speak, made a hum of polite disagreement. Rolan looked back at his fellow wizard to see his friend clearly mulling over how to explain something.

Letting out a small huff, Rolan stopped to turn his full attention to the man beside him, “What?”

"Well, I must argue that you are being... rather uncharitable towards your new wife. Tara and I both thought she was quite polite while we shared breakfast, if a bit tense and reserved." Gale began, not even acknowledging when the Dark King rolled his eyes, "The Queen is clearly frustrated and, to be quite honest, I find it hard to fault her for that, especially the more I learn about your wedding night. Did you truly not even think to visit her?"

"What about it?" Rolan snapped, tired of everyone dancing around whatever this point was supposed to be.

"You know that newly weds... Well, it's not part of all unions but...” Gale tried to continue, suddenly seeming a bit awkward and self-conscious, “Most newly wed couples spend their first night together to… consummate the marriage..."

It was as if Rolan's whole body froze the moment it all finally clicked together. He began to replay his new Queen's words in his head, about him not seeing her last night, about him suddenly wanting to be in her room.

Had she been expecting me to-

"She- Help her with whatever she needs. See if you and Alfira can figure out what she's doing." the Dark King managed to get out between his now racing thoughts and waving the other wizard away, "I need to... Ugh, goodbye.”

And with that, Rolan was off. Even through the burning storm of his thoughts, he knew he couldn't go back to his own chambers—his chambers that her chambers were now directly across from. The tiefling doubted he would be able to endure facing her with his mind now kicked up into such frenzy. Beyond that, the Dark King hardly paid attention to where his feet were taking him, perhaps to his study were he could dump himself onto one of the decorative fainting couches lining the wall or perhaps to Cal's room to borrow his brother's bathing chamber so the wizard could dunk himself in cold water.

Zurgan. What is wrong with me?

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 rolan #baldurs gate 3 #rolan bg3 #rolan #rolan x reader #bg3 fanfiction #holy rolan empire #rolan x tav #rolan nation #bg3 rolan x tav #dark rolan au #dark prince rolan #reverie writes #the dark prince: rolan au

60 notes · View notes

xxnashiraxx · 7 months ago

Text

With Stars to Fill My Dream (12) - You Know How Much You Broke Me Apart

LOOK!!! I CAN FINALLY SHARE THIS!!! ❤❤❤ I commissioned this absolutely BEAUTIFUL art from @ritzeldraws of the dance scene in this chapter! It's so beautiful- it captures their expressions and feelings perfectly and it's been my iPad background for months waiting to be unveiled! It's so lovely and I'm beyond happy that I got the opportunity to request this. :") Thank you again!! (They're dancing to Duvet by Boa btw, just in case you thought it was a happy dance)

Prepare your tissues for this chapter 💕 It's sad, and my song choice is awful (sarcasm) but you'll recognize it if you've watched Cyberpunk Edgerunners. No happy endings in Night City 💔

Please enjoy!

Chapter Summary: A brush with death leads to denied realizations from Astarion when Ofelia suffers a fatal wound. After she recovers, the party takes a group photo with Ofelia's revived phone- courtesy of Gale- and they all dance the night away trying to forget about their next objective: taking down the goblin leaders. The unlikely pair's slow dance leads to a drunken confession, and further torment appears in the form of a dream visitor wearing the visage of a former friend from Ofelia's past...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,811

Have some dance pics below the link!!! ❤ (peep the accidental cursor lol)

✧˖Tag List: @khywren

Opening under the cut!

Astarion tries not to think too hard about the way her eyes had been so sweet one moment, and the next had snapped like someone had wrung a child’s neck in front of her. She’d been very successful hiding her tone, but the eyes never lie, and hers were like cold dead stars. Empty and black.

He watches her come out of the broken mill, face impassive, before her brows twitch and a sheepish frown pulls at her lips.

“Lae’zel… I’m really sorry. I should have listened… you know way more about any of these things than me.”

“No matter. It is normal for warriors to exchange furried words in the heat of battle. Apologies are not necessary, but I will offer mine as well. What were you retrieving?” Ofelia lights up and holds out the little rectangle she’d pried off the goblin.

“My phone! I found it! It plays music!” She grins at Lae’zel earnestly and the gith looks at her a moment before turning away.

“I take it back.” Ofelia sticks her tongue out at Lae’zel’s retreating back before gathering the rest of them close. They disclose the identity of the gnome they’d pulled off the mill, the man walking away towards the treacherous temple ahead- nothing they could do to stop him.

“Okay, we’ve got what? A bugbear behind that building?” She asks, keen eyes darting to the left. Gale nods. “Three trolls in that building there, another four goblins around the back of the old apothecary. Then it’s the road down to the temple. And that sounds like way too many for us to tackle with sunset so close…” She presses a finger to her lips, deep in thought.

“We could break into groups, at least take out the rest here a little at a time?” Karlach asks, her eyes flashing towards the trolls.

“Okay… let’s balance the teams. Karlach, Gale? Trolls?” The two specified nod, though the wizard with less enthusiasm. “The bugbear… Lae’zel and I.” Astarion tuts.

“What about me, darling? I hope you’re not considering pairing me with these two?” He jerks his chin at Wyll and Shadowheart and the latter rolls her eyes at him and graces him with a rude hand gesture. Ofelia flicks her eyes up to him, darkness flaring in them, before she turns her chin away.

“Okay. Come with Lae’zel and me.” He grins, and though they can do without the wet blanket, he’ll trust Ofelia’s judgment. He slides next to her, brows creasing when she stiffens, but she flashes a warm smile at him and his concern ebbs. She’s started behaving like a timid little thing around him and it’s sweet, almost as sweet as her usual red cheeks and tender warmth. What a lovely thing she’ll be to indulge in when she finally lets him devour her whole.

Ofelia lets him pounce on the passed-out bugbear and he preens at the opportunity to show off, lodging his dagger into the neck of the beast as it roars in anguish. He dances out of range of its angry swipes, leaping away gracefully thanks to the meal she’d provided him this morning. Ofelia strums a little tune to embolden Lae’zel and with a final cleave of the githyanki’s greatsword, the creature collapses into a puddle of blood and sour ale. Vile smelling, at that.

“There are lots of supplies lying around, would be good to take them back to camp after we’re done here.” Ofelia murmurs to Lae’zel and the other woman grunts in acknowledgement.

“Ahh yes, moldy cheese wheels and old brandy. Hardly a feast,” He drops said bottle, her eyes meeting his again and he can see that razor-thin edge beneath like a yawning abyss, void and unseeing. He blinks and it’s gone, replaced by dry humor. When she looks away towards an old barn, he frowns. She’s behaving strangely. At least something useful had come from his centuries of torment- the power of observation. And he’s very good at it.

Had it been what he’d said? Perhaps it was a little… cold. Not that it matters, really. But it does now, and he’ll need to remedy it once the opportunity arises. He rolls his eyes inwardly, breathing out a sigh. Why is it so hard to win her affections? She’d even admitted the first time he’d drank from her how much she likes vampires, that should have won him some points, surely? All he needs is for her to agree to a gods damned night with him and he can take the rest from there. It’d be easy to pretend to care at that point. Clinical, even.

93 notes · View notes

crypt-keepers-den · 2 years ago

Text

[Astarion x Reader]

Warnings: None really, there are implications parenthood (the reader is adressed as mama/mummy), i just want to write fluff for the vampy boi <3

The soft glow of sunlight finds its way through your curtains, you turn your back to it before it can rouse you from your soft slumber. Your nose comes in contact with astarion's spine, pressing your face into his back which rouses a soft chuckle from deep with his chest, the vibrations cause you to slightly open your eyes. "Goodmorning my love" he turns to face you his pale skin glowing in the morning light, a smile present on his face, oh how you love his smile, everything about it from the crows feet that appear next to his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the way his fangs peek out from under his lips. He was perfect.

"whats on that mind of yours lover?" he casts you a teasing glance causing a geniune smile to grace your lips, your hands reach out to find one another, your fingers finding comfort in the grooves of his hand, feeling the gold band that sits proudly on his ring finger, the matching one adorning your finger, your voice is soft and groggy from sleep "this is first time in a while ive had you to mysel-" as if on cue the sounds of little feet on the hardwood floors brings your attention to the door, you sigh; however your still smiling "it would appear darling our little spawns have a different idea" . Your stifle a laugh your head resting on his chest as you both wait for your bedroom to turn into a chamber of madness. Astarion presses a kiss to your temple, his fingers combing through your hair.

your bedroom door creeks open, two little figures finding their way to the foot of your bed before climbing up and jumping onto their father "Morning mama and papa" Lyra, your 3yr old daughter sits ontop of her father, she almost his double, sharing his pale skin and silver curls, her eyes however are the same as yours. You feel small hands patting at your side, you look over and your 2yr old son Caspian is making grabby hands, he wants up to join in with everyone else; you lift him up allowing him to get comfortable on your chest, the small boy shares his father's facial features, along with his red eyes, however he shares your skin color and hair color.

"my my, little spawns you are up early today whatever is the reason?" astarion gently pokes and tickles his daughter, her squeals of laughter filling the room, caspian slaps his chubby little hands together in excitement. "papa you promised we'd go to the market today!". She was right, today was the first of the autum market and Astarion and you had promised your little ones (well only Lyra could understand really) that youd take them to see it and pick out a few things for home. Asatrion lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back onto the pillow "I suppose i did didnt i" lyra laughs at him.

you seize the moment to tease him " Tell him to hurry up Lyra, hes a dramatic old elf" you pull a funny face causing your daughter to start giggling frantically, Astarion's head snaps around to look at you before attacking you and lyra with kisses "How dare" another kiss "you two" this time it was on your nose "call me a dramatic old elf" the final kiss was on your lips.

He scoops Lyra and Caspian up into his arms, lyra giggles at their father's antics, while caspian chews on his chubby little fist babbling back at his dad "alright my little darlings, lets go get ready" he approaches you with both children in his arms, he plants a kiss on your lips before disappearing out the bedroom door to ready your children for the day, you take a moment to listen to the now alive little cottage,

"papa can we buy pumpkins today!" " I dont see why not- caspian take that out of your mouth young man" "ew papa why are you covered in caspians porridge" You laugh listening to the mayhem, what a beautiful family you have, it might not be perfect but its the vampire spawn and now retired tav kind of perfect.

this was going to be another perfect day.

writers note: i just love this vampy man and i wanna give him everything bc he deserves it <3 i will be taking requests for more baulders gate stuff so please spam my inbox

#baulders gate 3 #astarion x reader #baldurs gate #astarion #shadowheart #karlach #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x mc

540 notes · View notes

astarionancuntnin · 10 months ago

Text

Die For You (Chapter 7)

summary: you wake up to the harsh realities of your new life, and realize that your lover is terrible at keeping promises.

rating: E

word count: 5.9k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader, reader is tav)

cw: 18+. angst, abandonment issues, impulsive reader, alcohol abuse and using alcohol to take advantage of someone, visual depiction of violence, blood/vampire bites, smut, oral (f! and m! receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, praise kink, blood as an aphrodisiac, light choking. full list on ao3

new update every friday!

Masterlist

previous chapter

read on ao3

next chapter

or keep reading down below~

I was given a heart before I was given a mind

A thirst for pleasure and war, a hunger we keep inside

We fell from sky with grace, and life gave us a sweeter taste

You can drink, you can feast

There's beauty in your beast

Pain.

Raw, gut-wrenching, agonising pain.

Your awakening into your undead life is nothing like your last moments alive. Where your death had been bliss, lulled to eternal sleep as you were still basking in the aftermath of your climax, your rebirth is violent. Every bone in your body hurts as you suddenly regain consciousness, not with a new breath, but rather a monstrous hunger. Your vision is red, and there’s a faint metallic aftertaste in your mouth that you yearn for, as a churning in your stomach makes you twist in agony. It’s even worse than what you had gone through during the days spent in your cell; claws ripping you from within, an urge to devour anything and everything on your path, a never ending pit inside you, it’s–

“Shh, you’re alright my love. There, there, drink.”

Someone’s arm surrounds your shoulders, keeping you sat, as a cup is brought to your lips, and you do just as the voice commands; drink, until there's not one drop left. You go through its contents as if it was the air you needed to breathe. Whatever it is, you want more. You need more. It’s barely enough to keep the pain at bay, lest satisfy your hunger. The air around you is suffocating you; you need to get out, need to fix the pain. You fight through the hold the person has on you, as you muster a rough “more”.

“Aren't you a hungry little pet?” The voice speaks up again, less distant than it was before your first drink. “Hm, I suppose you deserve it for going through this. You've been so very brave.”

He turns around to fill the cup once more, and as you force yourself to take a deep breath, you smell the unmistakable scent of bergamot, rosemary, and brandy. The aroma brings you a familiar comfort, and you don’t know what it is about the voice, but it soothes you. Even though you can’t quite put a name on it yet, you feel secure, and you stop fighting the man’s embrace. When you’re finally calm, he brings another cup to your lips, only to pull it away when you try to grab it.

“Ah ah! Careful now, this is your last one for the time being. You'll have to learn to control yourself.”

You growl as you reach for the cup, violently gulping as you drain it dry and lick your lips for any remains of the cup’s content. Although the cup felt big in your hands, it also felt as if it was barely filled. You drank the liquid in mere seconds and, surprisingly enough, it was all you needed to ease the unbearable pain you woke up in. The world gets clearer, the ringing in your ears tones down; you’re finally able to make out where you are and who’s holding you.

Your beloved, your Lord, your creator.

You’re glad to see that, as promised, he stayed by your side, and he’s taken care of feeding you. With you calm at last, Astarion takes the empty cup from your hand to leave it on your nightstand, before bringing his attention back to you.

“How is my precious consort faring?”

“I… I’m fine now,” you clutch down at your stomach, noticing that the hunger was gone as fast as it appeared. “Thank you.”

“Of course, little love.” He smiles down at you. “And It’ll only get better, I promise.” He kisses the top of your head before you lay your head against his chest, still wrapped between his arms, as he strokes your hair. “Try to rest for now, you'll need all the strength you can get.” His voice sounds like a lullaby, a soft melody that brings you the warmth you had lost within.

Someone knocks at the door, and you can’t quite make out what they say in a rush – something about a shipment – or even who they are, but they sound alarmed. They didn’t even bother to wait for an answer before barging into your room. Whatever he says has Astarion pull away from you too soon, leaving you alone in bed in a disgruntled state; barely covered by the satin night dress you wore the night before, with your messy hair all over the place and blood tainting your chin.

“I need to attend to some matters that I’m afraid I can’t leave unchecked, I’ll do my best to take care of it as fast as possible.” He says, his tone back to its cold, methodical self, as he stands in front of your mirror, straightening his jacket and fixing his hair, making sure the reflection before him was the depiction of perfection, before turning to you. “Can I trust you to be on your best behaviour?”

You frown in disbelief before turning your gaze away from him, pensive.

He’s already leaving. He promised…

He walks back towards you, noticing your disappointment, and bends over the bed to take your chin between his fingers. He brings you closer to him once more and wipes away the blood remaining at the corner of your lips with his thumb.

“Come on now, my treasure. Don’t you want to be wonderfully obedient for me? I promise, I will be back before supper.”

There was something about the way he looked at you, the way his voice resonated in your mind long after he stopped talking, how he held you just right. Something about being his; body and soul. He knew just how to act towards you to make you surrender to him. Your walls break down and you nod, caving into his demands. You trusted him enough to take your life, you could extend your trust a bit more, he’s not going to abandon you now, right?

He licks his thumbs, tasting the leftover blood and hums. “That’s my girl.”

As his hand sneaks into the base of your hair to pull you into him, you part your lips to welcome his lips embracing yours. He lightly pulls at your hair to tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and you melt into his embrace. Should you still have the need to breathe, the air would’ve left your lungs in this instant. He parts from you, admiring the state he put you in one last time as a smirk appears on his lips, before leaving your room without another word. Supper was hours away still, so this would give you time to do anything you wanted, and you were free to roam the palace after all – it was as much his as it was yours now – and with your new nature, you couldn’t risk going outside with the blazing sun, unless you wanted an awfully painful death.

You quickly pick and put on a casual dress from your wardrobe for the day and start your research within the palace. As expected, the kitchen only has food meant for the living. All of it extorted disgust out of you now, the smell alone made you retch, putting an end to your search of this part of the building almost as soon as it started. You walk down the hallways, opening any door that wasn't locked to give it a peak, out of the mere chance that it contains anything remotely interesting for you to discover, only to be faced with empty rooms, for the most part. To your despair, all things that could’ve been worth your attention were locked and out of reach behind a single door that remained locked. When you ask Amedee about it, she only mentions that, “some places are only meant for the Master’s eyes''. You don't notice the day go by as you search every nook and cranny of the palace waiting for Astarion’s return; from the biggest room to the lowest dungeons. You have never been more frustrated as your search ended, tired and anxious, and with nothing to speak for it.

When you go back to your room, defeated, you notice the sun had set, and yet, Astarion was still nowhere to be seen. On your very first day as a vampire, in the very first instant of your transformation, he left you to fend for yourself, breaking one of the only three rules you had instated. A familiar impulsive idea crosses your mind, and without the Lord of the house to stop you, you pick a dark cape, along with some gold from his office and leave for the nearest tavern. This is where you would drink away your pain back in your living days, the thought of experiencing this again is comforting after the day you had.

“My Lady? Where are you going?”

As you make your way to the exit, your personal servant intercepts you.

“It would be better for you not to get involved, Amedee.” You keep walking until she moves in front of you, blocking your path.

“Far be it from me to contradict you, but the Master explicitly requested for you not to leave the palace!”

“I’ll follow the Master’s demands when he respects mine!” You push her aside to make it to the door when she grabs your wrist, stopping you right before the door.

“I would really advise you against it please–!”

When you look back at her, it’s with a boiling anger in your eyes, an anger that should be directed towards Astarion, you remind yourself, not her. She’s just following his orders, you tell yourself, preventing yourself from acting irrationally towards her.

“Amedee, I don't want to hurt you. Let me go, now.” Your words are gentle, but your voice sounds like a warning.

She looks at you with eyes pleading with you to stay, “I’m sorry my Lady, but I can’t let you go. He ordered it.” Her grip on you tightens and you understand the implication of her words. As much as you had appreciated her recent company, it was going to take you more to stop you from falling back into your old habits.

“I’m sorry too.”

Before she can react, you flip your arm around, making her twist in pain, before knocking the back of her head with your elbow, effectively knocking her unconscious. You look at Amedee with a pain in your chest, before walking out, slamming the door on your way out.

You had no intention of following anyone’s orders.

—

The tavern you reach is filled with mostly men, of all ages and all races, and in the past, chances are you would’ve bedded one – or a few – of them after a couple of drinks, but that wasn’t your goal this time. Your intention tonight is to get wasted, absolutely and utterly hammered, and you don't intend on leaving until you can’t walk properly; this was always your go-to to deal with high emotions, and it's not death that was going to change your ways. What you didn’t yet know was that your new vampiric powers made you unable to get inebriated. Not on alcohol, anyway. So you drink – for almost an hour – and the more you take, the worse it tastes, but you feel absolutely nothing. That’s until a charming, young tiefling approaches you.

“Let me offer you something more convenient for a lady like you.”

He smelled delicious.

Your bitter attitude quickly makes place for a pleasant smile, “What would you suggest?”

“How about some plum wine?” He orders two cups for the both of you and cheers before taking a first sip. You imitate the gesture only to grimace behind your cup. Just like the previous beers you’ve had, this drink is simply sour. Nothing would ever taste good anymore. Nothing, aside from whatever this tiefling had on him, Gods, the smell was simply intoxicating. It was almost unbearable to keep drinking this piss for wine when he was right there, hiding away that sweet nectar from you.

That’s when you get an idea. A terrible one.

“This is… nice, but I’m more the kind of girl who enjoys stronger drinks.”

“Oh? Is that so?” He leans closer to you. “Tell me, what’s your poison of choice?”

“Only if you promise to share a bottle with me.” Your voice is lustful and your hand easily finds its way on his thigh.

He smiles lustfully, “I think I might be tempted.”

You’re surprised by your ease to charm the man. You might’ve bedded countless strangers in the past, it usually took you at least two bottles of wine to get touchy with strangers, let alone get near them at all. This realisation gives you a sudden confidence boost and you find yourself getting closer to the tiefling, and open up your cape to reveal the plunging neckline of your dress which highlights your generous chest. You know your action has the desired effect when you notice him biting his lower lip at the sight of your breasts, unable to look elsewhere.

With the man now completely enchanted by you, you take a step further to secure your catch of the night. You order “the strongest drink you have” from the server, and you start drinking along. As the bottle gets close to empty, the tiefling grows more and more inebriated, while you are as fresh as the moment you stepped in. With the bottle almost empty, you throw some gold over the counter and whisper in his ear “let’s take this party somewhere else”, before grabbing him by the wrist to guide him out of the tavern. You don’t make it that far, as your thirst was guiding your every step and it was only growing stronger.

At the next corner, you pull him into an alley far from any scurrying eyes and abruptly pin him to the wall with your newfound strength.

His eyes widened in surprise, “Hells lady, I didn’t take you for a woman of experience.”

Poor guy, if only he knew.

He was barely able to hold his own weight, he looked downright pathetic next to a creature of such power as you. You take one, long sniff at him, taking in his aroma; he smells of plum, peaches, and bergamot, and unlike the food from earlier that reeked, the fruity notes he wore were as pleasant as you remember it from your living. Before long, you cover his mouth with one hand, tilting his head away, and dive your fangs into his neck in one swift movement. The moment his blood hits your mouth, relief overcomes you, finally indulging in the drink you didn’t know you had been waiting for all night. This man’s life be damned, you needed this, and you couldn’t handle any more teasing.

You feel him trying to scream and fight his way out of your hold, but it's no use; as every sip you take makes you stronger, and him weaker.

And you drink, and drink, and drink, until he's limp and you can't feel any more of the warm liquid coming from his neck.

You finally understand how Astarion felt that night he first drank from you. You're happy. Ecstatic, even, but a bit drunk. That was a lot of blood for your first time, but it was perfect to satisfy you. You feel as if you could take on an entire army by yourself, finally, strong once again, stronger than you’ve ever been.

It’s only as you pull back and the tiefling’s corpse falls to your feet that the weight of your actions dawns on you, taking you out of your blind confidence. A sudden panic rises in your chest when you realise what you’ve done, and you backtrack out of the alley, until you accidentally bump into someone.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!”

That’s when you recognize the familiar voice, and you freeze in place, hardly believing it at first. You wipe off your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping to get rid of any evident trace of your feeding before turning around to face the voice.

“Shadowheart?”

She steps back in shock when she recognizes you as well, choking back a sob as she smiles, before she rushes to embrace you tightly. You reach out slowly to hold her back, still processing the shock of her presence. You’re confused by your own reaction, shouldn’t you be happy to finally see her again? Why were you… afraid?

She finally pulls back, after what feels like an eternity, to take a look at you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I… sent you a letter,” your voice is quiet with hesitation.

She sighs, “Ah, I just got back to Baldur's Gate, I’m afraid I haven’t received it – where were you?!” She reaches out to cup your face when her smile is replaced by worry almost instantly. “By Selûne, you’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” you try to brush it off, reaching out to pull her hand away from your face almost in disdain, when you see her eyes flash in horror.

“You’re hurt!” She exclaims as she grabs your bloodied hand to inspect it. “Who did this to you? Are you in danger?”

“I’m not hurt!” You raise your voice, snatching your hand away from her forcefully, and in the lighting of the full moon, that’s when she sees your eyes.

Your brand new, ruby red eyes.

She gasps, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she takes a step back, connecting the pieces together in horror.

“Gods, no… what did he do to you?…”

You pull your cape back over your head as you avoid her gaze. “He didn’t do anything… I did. I asked him to transform me.”

“But why would you?! After everything you told me… what could make you change your mind? What did he say that could possibly make you do…” She pauses, looking you up and down, “this?”

You shake your head, “I–” The words get stuck in your throat, unable to explain to her what had happened just the day before. “I don’t expect you to understand, but–”

“You’re right, I don’t.” She says, cutting you off. “You do realise that the last time we saw each other, you wanted to forget about him? You considered leaving the city, with me.” She reaches out for your hands and looks for your eyes. “Nothing is stopping you from doing it, you can still run away from this, from him–”

“I don’t need protection!” You growl, snatching your hand out of hers as you back away. ”He’s helping me.”

“Whatever for?!”

You pause just before the answer makes it to your lips, as you realise just what you’ve become, and your face softens as you speak up. Your voice is but a whisper as your eyes fall to the ground before you. “Revenge.”

She scoffs, “You really do make quite the pair.” She sighs heavily, now shaking her head. “You’ve made your choice, clearly there’s no stopping you, but… I won’t stand here and watch you go down that path.” She looks up to you with sad eyes as she backtracks. “I hope you find whatever it is that you're looking for, truly.”

With those last words, she turns and slowly walks into the noisy tavern without giving you another look, leaving you alone with your thoughts in this empty street.

You, your thoughts, and the body of the man you had just killed.

Shit. The body.

You suddenly remember your actions and go back into the alley to do your best attempt at hiding him away – which turned out to shove him inside a barrel that you hid behind more boxes – before running away to the Crimson palace.

—

As you step back into the palace, you’re instantly faced with Astarion who had seemingly been pacing around the entrance, belittling Amedee, who was awake once more, for what you assume was letting you get out of the palace. He becomes furious the second he sees you, speaking up as he rushes towards you.

“Where were you?”

“As if you cared.” You brush him off, walking past him as you make your way to your room, when he puts his arm in the way to stop you and lean over you.

“Believe it or not, I was extremely worried,” he says, his voice darkened.

“You don’t need to be! I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, all thanks to you.” You taunt him, trying to move away from his intimidating form, but he cages you under him.

“Do I need to remind you who is out there?” He almost shouts, lowering his voice to continue. “You were supposed to stay here, where you are safe, and you deliberately ignored my only command.”

“You can give orders to your other spawns, but don’t get to command me, remember?”

He growls under his breath, “You’re making this very difficult for me, pet.”

“I’m not your fucking pet!”

As you roar, Amedee and a tiefling spawn you recognize from your days in the dungeons move carefully towards you, with the intention to restrain you, but they stop in their tracks when Astarion raises his hand to them.

His attention remains on you, but something changes in his eyes, his tone becoming suddenly cold, “Don’t make me compel you now.”

“Why don’t you try.” You push him backwards as you say your last words, and he barely moves, only stepping back to keep his balance. “Go on! Break yet another one of your promises. Compel me.”

He looks up to the two spawns, commanding them. “Leave us.”

They look back at each other before the tiefling tries to speak up, “My Lord, are you sure–”

“Now!” He shouts.

They bow and quickly leave the hallways, leaving you both alone. When he looks back at you, he seems more composed, but just as stern as before. “As much as I want to, I won't control you.” He stands upright once again, taking a deep breath. “I will respect your wishes, as difficult as it may be.”

“It seemed rather easy for you to abandon me merely minutes after I awoke as a monster,” you spit out.

He sighs, “It hurts me so dearly when you see yourself as such. My darling, you are so much more than that, and so much greater than a mere spawn.” He pauses, his gaze piercing through you. “No, you are my consort.”

You get more frustrated by the mention of the title, as if being his most beloved spawn changed a thing. You continue, your voice slowly rising, “I am not your prized possession, and I will not let you treat me as such. I should be free to do as I wish.”

“We spoke about this, dear. Circumstances changed. Once that’s settled, I would gladly let you parade in the lively streets of Baldur’s Gate as much as your heart desires.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. “It isn’t as much parading as it is haunting when night comes.” Your anger leaves room for despair. How you had gotten there, how you had let yourself be guided by the simple means of revenge… “I should’ve known better than to trust you.”

He leans over you, stopping barely inches apart from your face, his breath hot as he murmurs against your ear.

“I did exactly what I promised I would do; I shared my gifts with you.” He grabs you by your chin, pulling a gasp out of you as he forces you to look at him when he growls, “And I intend on showing you exactly what I mean.”

You don’t get to react as he grabs you by your wrist and walks away, pulling you along with him. When you walk past your room and approach the door to the dungeons, a dread starts to set in within you.

“Astarion, where are you taking me?” He ignores your question as he keeps walking, and you try to pull away only to feel his grip on you becoming tighter. “Astarion, answer me!”

Your fear is replaced by confusion, as you walk past the dungeons, and enter a room you’d never been in before: the only room you noticed was locked earlier. As he drags you inside, you observe that it highly resembles yours, aside from the gigantic mirror placed near the bed.

He slams the door shut behind you and locks it, before walking back to you, “I never, ever, want you to think of yourself as nothing less than a goddess. Do you hear me?” You back track until you hit the wall on the other end of his room and his arms fly to the side of your head, caging you under him. His aura is dark, possessive, and not a single coherent thought inhabits you when lowers himself, leaving but a breath between you two. “I said, do you hear me?”

“Y-yes.”

“You – are sublime.” You blink anxiously, and you swear you could feel your face grow warm from his words. They were said with such admiration, yet his tone was bordering on madness; you had never felt so incredibly small under him. “Let me show you how I mean to worship you.”

As soon as the last words leave his lips, he removes the cape from your shoulders, before ripping your dress open, completely ruining it. As you stand almost bare before him, he notices the blood on your pale skin, and he smiles as he reaches out for your hand.

“Oh? Did my little treat have a treat of her own?” he purrs, licking the blood from your hand, and a sinister chuckle escapes him. “Poor bastard probably had it coming. Tell me, dear, how did it feel?” His tongue trails from your hand, along your arm, up to your shoulder, leaving a faint kiss there before whispering. “To take a life?”

A short puff of air escapes you, before you manage to speak up. “It was… terrifying… and exhilarating… all at once.” You didn’t need to breathe anymore, but it didn’t stop your breathing to become fast paced as he continued to kiss your body, down to your navel.

“What about his blood? Tell me exactly how he tasted.” He pulls your panties down painfully slowly, as he sinks to his knees, while staring right into your eyes as he waits on you.

“He was… sweet. We had plum wine right before– ah–!” His hand finds its way between your legs, slipping right between your lips to find the accumulation of your desire. “Astarion…”

“Don’t let me stop you, dear. I want to know every sordid detail.” His fingers continue their rumination, encouraging you to retell your experience. “Go on.”

“We– we had wine, plum wine, and I could taste it in his blood.” You struggle to complete your sentences; between having Astarion on his knees before you and him fingering you, it was difficult not to. “He– Gods, he tasted like peaches, and– and bergamot–”

“Bergamot, huh?” He interrupts you. “Even when you’re looking to get away, it seems as if your senses bring you right back to me, don’t they?” A small cry escapes you as his fingers enter you, picking up a languid rhythm.

“I wasn’t– mmh– I… wasn’t looking to get away from y– you. I– ahh…” You try to grab onto the wall for support, as your legs start to give out while his fingers coax your inner walls, and his thumb teases ever so slightly your sensitive bud. ”I was mad at you.”

He removes his fingers, dipping them into his mouth to taste you, “Mhh, I suppose I deserve that. I promise, I will absolutely treat you with the utmost attention moving forward.” He places his face between your legs, and pushes your legs over his shoulders, his arms circling over your thighs, giving you the support you need to stay up. “Starting now.”

He dives right into your cunt, his skilled tongue lapping over the mess he made of you. He growls against your entrance, as he tongue-fucks you, and his nose provides a delicious friction over your clit. You reach out for his head, grabbing onto his silver curls for support, and you feel him roar between your legs, the vibration sending a delicious wave of electricity through you. You buck your hips against his face, chasing the relief his tongue was providing you, while your moans only grow louder and louder.

In this position, he couldn't say much, but you begged him nonetheless, “Astarion, please, don’t stop.”

There’s nothing but him in your mind, him and his devilish tongue working wonders.

“Believe me, I want nothing but to ravish you, my dear.”

You look down on him with a frown, not understanding how he was able to speak so clearly when he was very much drowning in your juices. Breathless, you ask, “What– How did you–”

“Our minds, little love.” He answers in your mind, without ever stopping his labour of love. “Our bond is stronger than the one of regular spawns. They can only receive commands, but you, as my dark consort, can communicate back and forth with me.”

You remain silent, processing this new information, when you see his eyes looking back at you, still ravishing you. “I told you you were special.”

“But how–”

“You’ve already opened yourself to me, now, reach out to my mind.”

You close your eyes, focusing on his presence; his hands firm over your thighs, his soft curls brushing against your skin, his tongue devouring you, his nose teasing your clit, pushing you towards the edge…

“Oh, Astarion…”

“There you are, my precious darling.” He pulls away and gets up just as you were getting to your peak, and you whine at the loss of his touch, as if he took away the very air you needed to breathe. The smile that appears on his lips as he caresses your cheek is devious, almost cruel.

“Tsk tsk, only good girls get their reward. You want to be very good for me, don't you?” You nod vigorously and he smiles, wickedly. “I thought so.”

He removes his trousers, finally freeing the raging erection he was keeping caged within, to sit just over the edge of the bed. He brings his thumb to his mouth and punctures it with his fang, before smearing his own blood all over his leaking cock.

“Time for your treat, darling.”

Your legs finally give out and you crawl your way to him, enchanted by the sight before you. You recognize the smell of his blood from earlier; that was the liquid you drank this morning. He had fed you his very own blood.

Had he made you…

A full vampire?

“Come, now. Aren't you eager to taste me?”

The sight of his cock brought water to your mouth; the way his precome mixed with his blood made it glint in the light of the fireplace, your hand barely circling around his impressive girth, and the veins adorning it made for a delicious treat. You open your mouth, with your tongue sticking out, and lick from the bottom of his shaft up to the head of it, closing your eyes as you taste the sinful mix of his fluids.

The blood from your earlier catch was good, but it was nowhere near comparable to the delectable nectar Astarion bestowed upon you. This was downright heavenly.

“Mmh, doing so well for me, pet. My sweet, sweet consort.”

You're not sure if it's because of the taste of his blood on your tongue, mixed along with his sweet praise, but you find yourself more lenient on the pet name you previously disliked. Somehow, it was growing on you, and you weren't sure how to feel about it, but in your lust-drunken state of mind, the name rolled beautifully on his tongue.

Softly, he pushes aside your hair falling over your face, holding it back as you finally take him in your mouth. When you look up to him, you find him admiring you with half-lidded eyes, and his mouth agape. The moans that leave his mouth encourages you to go further, and with each mouthful of him, you take him deeper down your throat, until your lips are flush against the base of his cock.

“Keep going,” he breathes out. “Gods, you feel, aah– amazing.” To know that you had reduced the mighty Vampire Lord to whimpers fueled a newfound confidence within you, and it pushes you to suck more fervently on his dick, “Yes, just like that, pet. Fuuuck, darling, I should've fucked your pretty little mouth earlier.”

You bring your hand to his shaft, twisting and sliding along its length with each thrust of your mouth, while your other hand cups his balls, softly squeezing them in your palm. His hips thrust upwards into your mouth, almost moving of their own accord as he was nearing his climax.

“Are you ready to taste me, love?” You look up to him, and using your bond you answer “yes, please”. The corner of his lips turn back into a smile. “That's my good little girl.”

It's not long before he groans as you feel his cock throbbing inside your mouth, releasing his hot, salty seed down your throat, and you swallow every single drop. Maybe if I'm really good, he'll let me taste his blood again, you think to yourself.

You suck on his hardness a few more times through his climax, making sure to clean it from any remaining blood or come. When he stills, taking a second only to catch his breath, you finally release his dick with a loud pop, looking up to him with pride and lust in your eyes.

He leans towards you, catching your face between his hands to crash your lips together, and you open your mouth, welcoming his tongue begging to taste himself on you. When he pulls back, a trail of your mixed saliva hangs between the two of you, and as he wipes it off from your lips with his thumb, he smears more of his blood on your face. You stick your tongue out trying to taste more, the scent alone driving you to the border of insanity.

“You've been so good to me, my sweet. Now,” he gets up, pulling you up on your feet again. “Let me show you what it means to be my consort. To be mine.”

You yelp as he takes you in his arms before throwing you on the bed, and climbs over you. Nothing could've prepared you for what came next, when he flipped you onto your belly, and pulled you back up by your throat.

“Look at yourself.”

Before you stood the large mirror you had ignored up until now, and in it, your very own reflection, along with Astarion's. You can't believe your eyes. Clearly you weren't a spawn, he told the truth all along, but then…

“What… am I?”

He leaves kisses over your shoulder, slowly making his way to your ear. “My beautiful consort. My precious little love. My greatest creation.” He leans over your shoulder, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as he whispers.

“My bride.”

Come on, and feel alive, lover

Come on, and feel the love like a sinner

Shout it louder, shout it for the ones who could never say

I won't feel ashamed, mother

Can you break the chains off her?

Shout it louder, not a sinner, she's a lover

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil

#my posts #my writing #fic: die for you #ascended astarion #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 #astarion smut #bg3 smut #Spotify

79 notes · View notes

viennacherries · 1 year ago

Text

QUOTH THE RAVEN - CHAPTER 2

Rolan/Tav | NSFW | 5,482 words

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

As you pace back and forth in your room, your mind reels.

The group had been to Moonrise. They watched Ketheric Thorm take an axe to the throat like it was nothing more than a splinter, and then use it to split a goblin clean in half. The mental image terrifies you, but it's not the main thing occupying your thoughts.

The tiefling hostages are alive. Danis, Lakrissa; Lia and Cal.

You've not seen Rolan since he stormed off. You want to talk to him. You want to tell him that Cal and Lia are okay, want to promise him you'll save them even if it costs you your life.

You want to kiss him again.

It's ridiculous, in all honesty. You're pretty certain that he hates your guts, but it doesn't stop you pining for him. You realise somewhat reluctantly that you've been pining for him since you parted ways at the grove, and if anything that makes the knowledge of his eventual rejection sting more. Of course he doesn't feel the same way. How could he? He considers you the reason his siblings are lost to him.

You clench your jaw. You're going to get them back, one way or another. All three of them deserve the future that awaits them in Baldur's Gate.

As you finish donning your armour, you glance longingly at the bed in the centre of the room. Maybe at some point you'll finally get a full night's sleep.

Somehow, you doubt it.

You stare at the back of his head, sat at the bar once again, as you all get ready to leave. A rush of relief fills you to see him safe. A rush of joy fills you to see he's drinking water, not wine.

He doesn't look up, but that's fine.

The next time he sees you, his siblings will be safe. You'll make sure of it.

~~~

All of your friend's sordid descriptions of Moonrise pale in comparison to the real thing.

On the walk over, Astarion had likened it to "a foetid corpse that even I wouldn't sink my teeth into". While his analysis came the closest, even that didn't truly capture the depths of the building's nauseating atmosphere and stench. As you stand at the base of the structure, staring up at the impossible height of it, Karlach leans over to speak to you.

"We managed to convince them that we're true souls, but they want to meet you before they give us any more information."

You nod wordlessly. It's another show of your group's trust in you, that they mentioned you even when you weren't present. They've clearly sold you to the cultists as their leader. The thought makes your insides twist.

Gale cuts in, "Thorm wanted us to bring you straight to Z'rell - I believe she's his commander? I recommend you be on your guard. From the brief glimpse we got of her, she appears rather ruthless."

Karlach nods seriously, "complete mega-bitch."

Astarion lets out a giggle beside you, "goodness, darling, I couldn't have put it more eloquently myself."

You snort at that, and Karlach's face splits into a grin. The group looks at you expectantly.

You take a deep breath. "Right. If we're going to sell this you three are going to have to be quiet, if you need to tell me something do it through tadpole-mail." You punctuate your sentence with a brisk tap to your temple. The three of them nod, and Karlach mimes zipping her lips shut.

You continue. "I'll talk to Z'rell, find out what we need to know about the artefact that's keeping Ketheric immortal, and then we'll go round to the docks and enter into the prison from the back. We're here for information and the hostages, nothing else. Don't get greedy." You pause. "That was aimed at you, Astarion. Keep your pilfering hands to yourself."

He sighs dramatically, "oh, if I must."

~~~

Listening to Zrell speak is difficult when you're trying not to choke on the smell of decay and death. It seems to seep through the very brick of the tower, festering between the mortar and filling your pores. You're not sure how successfully you're keeping your disgust off your face, but if Z'rell notices your discomfort she doesn't comment on it.

"You came here to answer the Absolute's call." She says, and her voice is laced with mirth. "Let's see what you're made of."

All of a sudden she's communing with your tadpole, and you can feel her poking through your brain and the thoughts within it. Panic rises within you as you realise that she's trying to discern if you're truly faithful to the Absolute, and you know you have only a moment before she sees into the depths of your thoughts.

You latch onto the first thing you can think of.

As you shape the image of Rolan's face in your mind, you remind yourself of the anticipation in the moments before your lips met, and the rush of euphoria and excitement as you finally kissed him. You focus on the emotion in his eyes as he waited for your reaction, the blush on his cheeks, the shine on his lips. You can almost feel his hands tracing over your hips, slipping through your hair, and in your mind you're settling your weight back into his lap.

Then the thoughts drift further. Watching his magic display at the party, the sound of his laugh as you traipsed through the shadows, the way his brow furrows when he scowls. The sunshine yellow of his irises and the shiver that goes through you whenever his gaze falls onto you, the dusting of freckles along his cheeks, the smooth scarlet length of his neck and how beautiful it would look covered in hickeys.

When Z'rell retreats from your mind, she barks out a harsh series of laughs, and for a moment you're terrified. She's seen straight through you, she knows what you're here to do. Your hand slides to grip the handle of your blade where it rests on your back.

"A refugee from Elturel?" She can hardly get the words out around her laughter. "Gods, what a pathetic little creature. And a wizard, no less! Don't tell me you're actually in love with that sad excuse for a man." She leans forward and runs a hand down your arm, a coquettish grin on her face. "A pretty thing like you? I can think of far more worthy conquests."

You feel bile rise in your throat at her words, both her blatant advances and her mischaracterisation of Rolan, but you swallow it down. Instead, you let out a fake, flirty laugh, and shoot her a half-hearted wink.

This seems to satisfy her, and she launches into an explanation of the relic that Thorm needs - the one that you know grants his immortality - and directs you to the mausoleum.

When you're finally outside again, away from the stifling air of Z'rell's atmosphere, your companions say nothing. The weight of her words hangs over you.

'Love' she'd said. Is that what it is?

Do you love Rolan?

You're not completely sure you're ready to think about that.

~~~

The battle in the prison is more draining than you'd hoped. You're only still upright thanks to a well thrown healing potion from Astarion, which had landed at your feet and splashed up your calves.

The boat rocks on the water and the paddles propel you forward on their own accord, moved by Gale's magic rather than any physical effort. Karlach has the end of a bandage clamped between her teeth as she wraps a cut on her upper arm, and Astarion (despite his initial reluctance) is rationing out the remainders of your healing brews between the ex-hostages. A group of deep-gnomes had also been held captive below the tower, so the boat is cramped and your medical supplies aren't stretching as far as you'd hoped, but everyone is alive.

You can't quite believe it. You feel like you're not even in your body.

That may have something to do with the blood loss, in fairness. You'll worry about that later.

As the boat starts to pull into the dock, you hear a loud cheer from the coastline, and for a moment you don't even think about the horrors of Moonrise towers. You watch Cal and Lia scan the shore for Rolan, and lean over to them both.

"He's probably inside, waiting at the bar. That's where he was when we left."

Lia gives you a friendly smile, which morphs into something like amusement. "That sounds about right. He's not the type for heroic welcomes."

You nod and chuckle. There's a pause before she speaks again.

"Is he... He's okay, right?"

"He is." You pause. "I'm sure he'll be less than pleased that it was me that got you guys out, but he'll be thankful to see you. He's been worried."

Lia smirks, and there's a knowing edge to it that unsettles you somewhat. "Oh, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to give you his thanks."

Cal snorts, before covering his mouth and nose with a hand and turning away, trying in vain to make his guffaw sound like a cough. You narrow your eyes at the pair of them in suspicion and Lia laughs. You're beginning to understand Rolan's perpetual exasperation with them both. They've been out of mortal danger for all of 5 minutes and they're already teasing him, and he's not even seen them yet.

Actually, scratch that. You realise as Lia looks at you that they're not teasing him, they're teasing you.

You try to think of something smart to say, but come up blank. Instead, you blush, and mutter sheepishly. "Am I that obvious?"

Cal snickers, and Lia breaks into a wide grin. "It wouldn't be obvious if he was anyone else," she starts, "but you have to be daft or smitten to enjoy Rolan's company. You're definitely not daft."

Cal cuts in, "oh I don't know, she might be. She did just break us out of prison."

You laugh at that, "in my defence, that was a group effort."

Any reply they might have had is cut off by the boat shuddering as it connects with the shore.

Lia claps you on the shoulder, "for what it's worth, Tav, I think he's sweet on you." Before you can ask her to elaborate, she's clambering out of the skiff and tugging Cal out behind her.

That flutter of hope flickers back into your chest.

As you step from the boat, Bex grabs you in a tight embrace. She sobs into you and whispers repeated thanks and prayers. You don't catch most of them, you just hold her. When she breaks away your shoulder is damp, and she lunges at Danis as soon as he steps onto the shore. They fall to their knees in a heap as they clutch one another desperately.

You're showered in adulation from every direction; you lose count of how many hugs and handshakes you're given. There's a deep weariness settling through your bones that gives you only enough vigour to respond positively without considering your words. You're completely on autopilot.

You finally make it back through the doors of the inn, and you're more than ready to collapse in your bed. You feel like you could sleep for an age.

A loud, clipped admonishment shoots through the air, and you turn to face it.

It's Lia. She looks surprisingly pissed off for someone who was so pleased just ten minutes ago. You sigh inwardly and resign yourself to the fact that you should intervene.

"We're all safe, Rolan - that's what matters!" It’s Cal talking when you approach.

Rolan is opening his mouth to speak, and you're reasonably sure by the expression on his face that whatever he plans on saying isn't particularly polite. You cut him off before he has the chance.

"Rolan was in a bad state without you two."

His jaw snaps shut as his eyes dart to you, and he hesitates over his words.

"I was just... overwhelmed. It doesn't matter."

Lia's eyes soften, and she takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. We should've been here."

"No -" Rolan is quick in his response this time. His tone is gentle. "- no, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have shouted. I'm sorry."

Cal turns to you, and there's a soft smile on his face.

"Thank you, Tav. For saving me, and the two idiots." He tilts his head in their direction as he says it.

Lia nods, then turns to Rolan, a teasing grin on her face. "Anything to add, Rolan?"

He scowls at her, but as he turns to look as you his expression smooths out, and a faint blush rises to his cheeks.

"I've... lashed out at you. Drunkenly and otherwise. And you helped me anyway." His voice is uncharacteristically apologetic. "You didn't deserve that - I'm sorry. And... thank you."

The look the two of you share is charged, and there's so much you want to say. You pause for too long though, and Rolan clears his throat.

"You went out of your way to help us, it's only right you get something in return." His tone is matter-of-fact as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pouch, and you can tell it's gold without looking inside. He takes your hand and turns your palm upwards, places the bag in your hand, and curls your fingers around it. His own hand stays wrapped around yours for a moment, and he glances up at you through his lashes, suddenly bashful.

His words are quiet, meant just for you. "Here. I hope it helps."

You try to refuse - try to say anything at all - but before you have the chance he's pushing the bag towards you and loosening his grip. You're left standing there, staring at him, the pouch clutched to your chest. His tail flicks behind him.

The silence lingers, and Lia clears her throat to break it. "Stay and have a drink with us Tav? The least we can do is pour you a decent pint."

It's tempting, but you shake your head, shaking yourself from your stupor simultaneously. "As lovely as that sounds, I'm completely exhausted. There's not enough blood left in my body right now for me to risk booze, I'll be more ale than ichor."

Rolan's face twists at that, "you're hurt?"

You can only shrug, though the movement feels sluggish. "Par for the course of this hero business, funnily enough. I don't think I've been anything but hurt since I fell out of that nautiloid."

He frowns, "surely your group has healers? Potions?"

"Well," you nod, then shrug again, "Shadowheart and Halsin are healers, but their magic is better spent on you lot. And we're fresh out of potions right now, I'm going to go on the scrounge for some in the morning." Rolan looks distinctly unimpressed, so you shoot him a smile that you hope is comforting. "It's fine, really. I have a bed waiting for me upstairs which has been calling for me since yesterday. I'll feel right as rain after a few hours of rest."

This doesn't seem to placate him, and he shakes his head before standing from his chair decisively. "Absolutely not. I know some basic healing spells and I keep a few spare potions in my pack. I'll tend you - I insist." The last past comes briskly as you open your mouth to protest, and you close it again. He can clearly tell you're brewing an argument, and intercedes before you can fully form it. "Just let me look after you. Please?"

His echo of your own words stirs something in your chest, which feels a bit like he's cheating to be honest, and you find you haven't got the energy nor inclination to argue.

"Fine, but only if I get to lay down. My head is pounding."

He nods, "fine by me, which room is yours? I'll come find you."

You tilt your head upwards, "first door at the top of the stairs, I'll leave it unlocked."

He nods again. "I'll be with you momentarily, then."

It's at that moment that you notice the absolute shit-eating grins that the twins are wearing, and you feel yourself flush. Cal winks at you, which sends Lia into hysterics, and Rolan turns on her sharply.

"What?!" His tail is raised and flicks sharply, in a movement you can tell denotes his irritation, but it just makes Lia laugh more. You turn away briskly before he can see the blush rising on your face and take the stairs two at a time. You hear Cal cackle and Rolan whisper-shouting his complaints at the pair of them as you shut the door and lean your back against it.

You let yourself catch your breath, then take three long strides forwards til you're right at the edge of the bed, and unceremoniously fall face first into the mattress.

~~~

You're roused to consciousness by a light series of knocks against the door, and you manage to wrench your eyes open just as Rolan walks in.

He smiles, "sorry to disturb."

"Not at all, come on in."

He steps further into the room and clicks the door shut behind him. You smile to yourself as a thought crosses your mind, and mutter it quietly.

"'The fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, and so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door.'"

He quirks an eyebrow with a smirk, "poetry, Tav? You better not be trying to seduce me."

You snort, "please, with 'The Raven'? Rather a grim method of seduction, don't you think? I'm sure I could think of something more suited, if you insist."

His face flushes. "That won't be necessary."

The laugh you let out is incredibly unattractive, but you don't have enough energy to care. You realise you're staring at him over your shoulder where you're planted face-down on the bed, so you roll onto your back and sit up to face him better.

"'And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming...'" You trail off and laugh again. "Yeah, no, it's definitely not the most charming of poems. I'll have to come up with something better."

He smiles, his light flush unmoving, "oh, I don't know, that bit was almost sweet, if you ignore the original context."

You smile wide at that, and Gods, this feels so easy with him. So comfortable. You'd been so sure he'd hate you, but sitting here now looking at him, you can't imagine why.

He clears his throat, and tilts his head towards the bed. "May I?" You nod, and he seats himself next to you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted. Drained. A little lightheaded, if I'm being truthful. Feels like my bones have turned to jelly."

He frowns, "well that's far from ideal. Does anywhere in particular hurt? I'd like to make sure you're not actively bleeding out on me."

You shake your head, though the action makes your eyes blur, "just my head, really. Well, and my whole body aches, but that's no different than usual. I had been bleeding out, I think, but Astarion threw a potion and that staunched it."

He huffs. "Right. Where were you bleeding out from?"

You blink. "Oh, sorry. My side, under my ribs. Big sword."

He nods. "Do you mind lifting your shirt slightly? I just want to make sure the wound is closed properly."

You nod, and as you curl your fingers around the hem of your shirt he drops his various supplies between you both. There's a collection of healing salves, as well as a mundane first-aid kit.

He notices you looking. "Healing magic isn't a particular proficiency of mine. For anything small I figured we could make do the old fashioned way."

It makes your heart clench a bit, the tenderness and thoughtfulness he's extending towards you, so you nod dumbly instead of saying anything. You lift your shirt to expose your waist to him.

He sucks in a breath, and a look at his face tells you the wound is definitely not staunched.

"That bad, huh?"

To his credit, he does a good job of steeling his features into something neutral. He also does a good job of stealthily avoiding the question. "Nothing that can't be fixed. Do you mind if I...?"

He gestures towards you with his hands, and once again you're mute as you nod. He places his fingers gently against the sore skin around the cut and you flinch. He responds with a sympathetic grimace.

"Sorry, I just need to check how deep it is. The spell will be more effective if I know how far it needs to penetrate." You brace yourself as he touches the wound again, and he nods to himself as he inspects it. "It's a clean cut which means it shouldn't be too difficult to heal. What exactly happened?"

You wince again, though it's not from pain this time. You don't particularly want to go into the details with him; it's certain to upset him. He looks at you expectantly though, and his gentle touch on your skin is clouding your thoughts a little. You sigh.

"One of the guards. He lunged at Cal while his back was turned." Rolan's eyes widen. You shrug noncommittally, hoping to ease his concern. "I jumped in to stop it, so it caught me instead."

Rolan just stares at you, blinking.

"I..." He keeps staring at you. "You... You leapt in front of a blade to protect my brother?"

You wince again, making a sucking noise with your teeth. "... Sorry?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes, lines appearing on his forehead. "I don't know whether I should punch you or kiss you."

You feel your heart leap, and you let a coy smirk dance across your lips, "if you're taking suggestions, I certainly have a preference."

He huffs out a laugh, and opens his eyes to look at you again. You can tell he's trying to look frustrated, but there's a shadow of a smile on his face. "Gods, you would, wouldn't you? I've never known you to not have an opinion on something."

His reaction emboldens you, "I have several opinions on the matter, in fact. Are you taking suggestions? I can give you an extensive list."

There's a cocky grin on his features now, and he leans in til his breath is ghosting over your face. Just as you think he's about to kiss you, he speaks instead.

"I thanked you once already. Don't be greedy."

The tone he utters the words in is low and gravelly, teasing in a way that's absolutely maddening, and you shudder involuntarily as he leans away from you. He looks very proud of himself.

You roll your eyes. "Whatever, you tease. Hurry up and fix me, will you?"

His gaze falls back to your wound at that, and his face drops. He trails a finger featherlight around the cut, which sends a shiver through you, and when he speaks his tone is serious again.

"Thank you, Tav. Truly. My family and I are eternally in your debt. Cal and Lia..." His eyes go slightly misty. "They're everything to me. I'm sorry you were injured, but I'm so deeply thankful for your help."

It's such a painfully genuine comment, and the only thing that feels right in the moment that follows is to rest your hand atop his free one where it rests on his knee. You don't say anything, but you don't think you need to.

He clears his throat. "Right, I'm going to cast the spell now, if you're ready? It might sting due to the wound's depth, but I'll try to be careful."

You nod, "I trust you."

An emotion you can't quite place flickers across his eyes, and you squeeze his hand gently before withdrawing. He grabs your hand before it gets very far, though, and flushes as he places it on his knee. He pointedly avoids your eye contact as he laces his fingers with yours.

"I... I can do it one handed."

You've absolutely not known him long enough for your heart to flutter the way it does, but you find you don't care very much. You squeeze his hand and shoot him a smile, before gesturing down at your abdomen.

"Go ahead, I'm ready."

You feel his magic dance along your skin and you gasp at the sensation. It's somehow cool and warm simultaneously, and it tingles as your flesh knits together. The feeling is different to when the others heal you. Shadowheart's magic feels like being bathed in a warm light, Halsin's feels like blades of grass tickling your dermis. Rolan's healing magic feels more like a soft breeze blowing through an open window; it feels like the particles you can see in the air when the light hits at a particular angle. It's gentle and homely, like being wrapped up in a tender embrace, and it reminds you of the soothing voice someone might use to comfort a child.

All too soon the feeling subsides, and you realise that your eyes have fallen shut. You open them slowly, blinking in the light of the room, and find Rolan already looking at you. His face is open and unguarded, and his eyes flicker across your features as though he's trying to memorise them. When he speaks, it's in a low whisper, as if the very air around the pair of you is fragile.

"... How do you feel?"

You consider his question. You take in the lingering fluttering sensation of his dissipating magic, the feeling of his fingers laced through yours, the exposed expression he wears as his eyes dance over you. You're not quite sure what to say.

So instead you say nothing, and you lean forward and press your lips into his.

His mouth is pliant under yours, his lips satin smooth. You feel rather than hear his intake of breath as you make contact with him, and his grip on your hand tightens minutely. It's a tender, fleeting thing, the kiss you give him, and when you pull away you can't help the goofy smile that spreads across your face.

"Far better, now."

He scoffs, but there's a light in his eyes that wasn't there before, and he's leaning back in. There's no hurry to his movements as he parts your lips, and you sink into the feeling of his mouth against yours. When you separate again, he's wearing a beaming grin that matches your own.

"As lovely as this is," the hand that isn't gripping yours comes up to caress your cheek, "I'd like to finish healing you. Is there anywhere else that hurts?"

You shake your head, then hesitate as the movement makes your skull throb. "Well... I have a pounding headache."

He chuckles, and both of his hands come up to the base of your neck as he leans into your space. He threads his fingers upwards through the hair there, the rest of your locks cascading over his forearms, and you shiver and let your eyes flutter shut as the hum of his magic washes over you once more. He scratches his nails lightly against your scalp and you let out a contented moan. Another soft laugh escapes him and you feel his breath against your cheek, which makes you shudder.

When his magic recedes again, your head feels warm and fuzzy, and you lean into his touch to encourage him not to let go.

"Don't fall asleep on me, Tav, I need to make sure you're fully healed."

You shake your head and plant your face into his neck, and Gods, his skin is so soft and warm. When he starts to chastise you again, you tilt your head and place soft open mouth kisses against his skin, and now he's the one shivering under your touch.

"Tav..." His tone is low, and you feel it in your chest. You hum in response which makes him shudder, and you feel his neck bob as he swallows heavily. "Tav, you need to rest."

You lift your face away from his skin, just enough to speak. "Do you want me to stop?"

He shivers again, and his fingers tighten their grip in your hair. "I should think you know the answer to that already."

You giggle, and reward his honesty with a light suck of the soft skin. He groans fully at that, and you feel the noise travel directly south. You can't help but pull the skin between your teeth and tease it gently.

"Gods," it's more of a breath than a word, "Tav, I- Can I kiss you? Please?"

You sit up and kiss him and he moans into your mouth as you slide your tongue against his. It's a maddening kiss, slow despite the underlying heat to both of your actions. Rolan's the one to break it, to your immense chagrin. You try to lean back in but he holds you at arms length by your shoulders.

"Tav." His voice is chiding, the tone reminiscent of the one you might use to chastise a cat that won't stop bringing you vole. "I'm not finished healing you."

The groan you let out is fairly childish, but whatever. It makes him laugh.

"Come on, I seem to remember you saying you wanted to lay down."

He eases you back til your head rests on the pillows. They're soft and downy, and Rolan's touch on your skin as he positions you on them is so light that you feel goosebumps raise on your skin. He sits facing you, one leg drawn up onto the mattress.

"Gods, Tav, you look exhausted. When was the last time you had a proper rest?"

You laugh at that, which probably isn't the reaction he was hoping for. "Never?"

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose again, before looking back at you. "Okay, I'm going to use a general healing spell over your whole body, to hopefully ease some of your aches and pains. It'll close up any small wounds and then you can actually sleep."

When you nod, his hands come to hover above you and the staticy feeling of his magic reaches out to you as he connects with the weave. His hands trail over your body without touching you, making their way across your whole form, and by the time he's finished you feel like you're surrounded by a cloud. He's gotten rid of aches you didn't even know you had.

You only realise you're half asleep when you register the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek, so barely there that you could be imagining it, before you feel the bed dip as he moves to stand. You reach a hand out and grab at him blindly, catching the edge of his robe. It makes him pause, and you blink your eyes open.

"Stay."

The look that spreads across his face is so raw and full of emotion that you almost feel like you should close your eyes to give him privacy. There's a softness to his gaze you've never seen on him before, and he swallows thickly and gives one small nod. You shuffle over enough to make room for him, and he unbuckles the silver gorget he wears over his robes, placing it gently on the small table next to the bed. You expect him to lay down then, but he stands for another moment hesitating, before eventually bringing his hands to the sash that holds his robes together. The flush that rises to your cheeks makes your whole face warm, and you watch his fingers (he has beautiful hands) as they untie the laces and drag the robe off his shoulders, so that he's left just in his plain undershirt and baggy trousers.

You're pretty sure you've never been this turned on from seeing someone wearing clothes, but there's something about seeing Rolan in casual dress rather than his wizarding attire that ignites a fire low in your gut. He takes a moment to toe off his boots, and just as he goes to get in bed he pauses.

"Is this definitely what you want? I don't want to intrude on your rest."

You'd roll your eyes if you had enough energy, but instead you pat the bed beside you. He chuckles and finally clambers onto the mattress. He keeps a respectful distance, lying on his back with one hand folded onto his chest and his ankles crossed over each other. His other hand brushes against the back of your own where it rests between you.

~~~

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 rolan #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 fluff #bg3 requests #holy rolan empire #rolan #rolan bg3 #tav x rolan #rolan x tav

145 notes · View notes

vixstarria · 1 year ago

Text

Communication

Surprise surprise, they're no good at it.

This is a continuation of my in-game bardlock series, seeing as I left a large gap in it between an intimate and emotional scene and a whole bunch of unhinged fucking. Sorry about that.

Takes place after Intimacy but can be read as a stand-alone!

Read on AO3

Astarion x named f!Tav

Early Act 3. It has been nice, but it's time they actually figured out what it is they're doing and what comes next.

Hurt/comfort, some fluff and a drop of humour (I am me after all) if you squint, love, angst

TW: some very casual violence and murder

Approximately 3.9k words.

“Well?” A very giddy Astarion had appeared behind Asmodea. “Let’s go!”

The party had finally reached the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate and were setting up camp near Rivington, after a brief excursion in the area.

“Go where?” she asked.

“Anywhere! I haven’t seen these streets in sunlight in two centuries.”

“Now..?”

The city was flooded with refugees. Some child whose mother was definitely not coming for her had seemingly declared herself adopted by the group. There was a towering pile of corpses just outside one of the nearby gates. A circus was in town.

It was nice to finally be back in civilisation.

“Yes, now! Forget the bloody tent, maybe we’ll find an inn to sleep in for a change.”

Nothing had been arranged, set up or planned yet. They had only the vaguest notion of where they were going.

“Sure, a walk sounds lovely right now,” shrugged Asmodea.

It very quickly became obvious that finding an inn would be nigh on impossible. The streets were crowded with refugees, frantic citizens and all those who would either try to keep them in order or prey upon them.

“Are we going anywhere in particular, or are we just... going?” Asmodea asked, trying to make her way through the throng. She had never seen Baldur’s Gate this busy before.

“There is something I’d like to show you,” answered Astarion. “Some place, to be exact. It’s- hey!”

He realised that he was talking to no one, as they had been separated by a group of dwarves pushing their way through between them. Asmodea smiled at him over their heads, raising her arms in an open-palmed gesture of defeat and resignation.

“Can’t you keep up?” Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes, and reached for her, taking her hand and linking his fingers through hers.

This… This was new, particularly in public, and Asmodea bit her lip, fighting not to smile, as he guided her after him.

Astarion glanced back over his shoulder at her, to see her grinning.

“Oh shut up,” he huffed, before spilling into a smile too, despite himself, and drawing her close to kiss her.

“Half-elven whore,” a nearby elven woman muttered to her companion in elvish, tsking in distaste at the sight. Either she did not expect to be heard or understood, or simply did not care.

Astarion turned towards the woman, with a glower, but before he could retaliate with his own snide remark, Asmodea told the elven woman to go fuck herself with a splintered broom, in perfect elvish, and pulled Astarion further down the street before the woman thought of anything else to say.

“Such... delightful use of the True Tongue, dear.” Astarion seemed in equal parts impressed and taken aback. “Don't tell me you’ve been holding out on me this whole time..?”

“Oh, no, I only know a little bit,” laughed Asmodea.

“Do indulge me.”

“No, it’s really hardly anything,” she shook her head. “I can count, exchange pleasantries and profanities, know a few songs I can’t translate, and a few odd phrases.”

“Such as?”

“I can scream for help in elvish, for one,” she offered.

“Why would you need to scream for help in elvish..?”

“Men are more likely to come running if they think it’s a little elven maiden they’re rescuing,” she explained with a sigh.

Astarion mulled that over with a frown for a bit.

“I’ll have to take your word for that... What else? And for hells’ sake, just say something, I enjoyed hearing it.”

She said the first phrase that came to mind.

Astarion stopped dead in his tracks, with what Asmodea knew to be the expression he held when he was doing his best to keep his face straight.

“So let’s start with what you think you just said.”

“...Shit. ...Uhh.” Asmodea gave Astarion a sheepish look. “‘My small children have had nothing to eat for days.’?”

“Darling,” he said, cupping her cheeks, trying not to laugh. “My love. That’s not quite it... Now, how many people do you think you’ve told you’ve ‘eaten nothing but small children for days’..?”

“Ah... That explains the reactions,” Asmodea said thoughtfully.

“Horror?” Astarion finally snickered.

“Usually laughter... I just figured most elves were assholes.”

Eventually Astarion brought them onto a rooftop that offered an impressive view of the city and surrounding regions.

“It’s so strange to be here in daylight,” he murmured. “This was one of my spots,” he said, turning to Asmodea. “I used to come here at the start of my evenings, alone, and just… enjoy the peace and quiet for a while.” Astarion took a pensive look around. “Admittedly, the tiles weren’t as hot at night, and all the bird shit wasn’t as prominent.”

They found a place to sit down.

“I thought you would try to get your job done as quickly as possible,” said Asmodea.

“There had to be a certain balance to it.” Astarion shook his head. “Start prowling too early, and the potential targets wouldn’t be ripe for the picking yet. And even if I managed to get someone back to the manor early on in the evening, it would only mean I would have to ‘entertain’ them longer.” He shut his eyes and leaned back against a chimney. “It was better to take some precious solitary repose, when I could.”

“Do you think you might have taken me back to Cazador if you’d met me back then?” Asmodea asked quietly.

Astarion opened his eyes and frowned at the sudden question.

“Not if I’d ever seen you perform, no,” he deliberated. “I never went for the bards. They were almost my co-conspirators, though they didn’t know it. I couldn’t waste them.” He paused before continuing. “But otherwise, if I’d just bumped into you at a Tavern… Probably, yes. A pretty, reckless stray… You would have been perfect. …Would you have followed?” He asked, glancing at her.

“Probably,” she replied, staring off into the distance.

They sat in silence until Astarion broke it with a question.

“Will you stay with me when all this is over?”

Just the sheer amount of effort he put into trying to make that question sound casual spoke volumes.

It caught her off guard. They’d spent many evenings in his tent lazily basking in vague fantasies about an ‘after’, usually concentrating on the idea of being able to stay in bed all day, or the concept of their hair and fingernails being free of dried blood and entrails for a change. They’d never actually discussed any realistic nuance of this ‘after’. Or what it might look like, other than what it wouldn’t look like.

“Are you certain you want to take Cazador’s place in the ritual..?” she asked, carefully.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Astarion immediately sounded defensive.

“You don’t even know what it entails or means, not really...”

“It means having everything I’ve been missing the past two centuries, what else is there to know?” He scoffed. “...You haven’t answered my question,” he said after a pause.

She said nothing for a while, looking down at her fingernails.

“Stay and do what..?”

“Anything!” he exclaimed. “Anything you want. We could do anything. Do you have any idea what I will be capable of? Of the power I will hold. The influence.”

“Yes, yes, legions of wolves, turning into mist,” she recited. “What else… Commanding ghouls, I think?” She threw her head back, looking at the sky. “I’m not sure why you would need to do any of that, though.”

“Unimaginable power, and you mock it…” Astarion said indignantly. “I suppose you would rather go frolic in the woods with Halsin..? …Oh don’t look so shocked, I’ve seen how he looks at you. Sleeping in the dirt, living off the land. Is that what would make you happy?”

“He looks at you the same way! And must you jump to extremes?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Even if I were interested in Halsin, there is ample space between sleeping in the dirt and sleeping in that gothic monstrosity, in which I might find myself happy.”

They sat in silence for a while.

“I don’t think you should go through with it,” she said, finally. “Something about it just doesn’t sit right.”

Astarion looked at her with an unreadable expression and didn’t say anything. She continued.

“I know enough stories - and before you roll your eyes at me, there is usually a grain of truth to them – and I’ve read between the lines of enough history texts, to know there is no such thing as a jolly vampire lord that just has a grand ol’ time carousing in their castle. It’s always centred on cruelty, misery and violence.”

“I suppose you know plenty of stories of jolly vampire spawn,” he spat.

“Some, as a matter of fact. They usually revolve around romance and redemption.” She sighed and continued, as he let out a bitter laugh. “I’ve never heard of any demonic deals that ended in anything that wasn’t disastrous, either. The point is, nothing that involves blood or soul sacrifice has ever made anyone happy.” She looked in the direction of Cazador’s palace. “We should kill Cazador, burn it all to the ground and dance on the ashes. I will be by your side. And yes, I want to stay with you. Of course I do.”

“For how long?” Astarion asked quietly, after a pause.

“...What?”

“How long will you stay by my side? You have another... 100 years, 150 at best? I can’t offer any solutions to that as a spawn.”

She blinked, realisation dawning in her eyes.

“...Astarion Ancunin, did you just say you want to spend the rest of eternity with me?”

“Oh don’t you bloody dare turn this into a joke,” he bristled. “Just for once.”

“Not a joke, but…” She paused and gave her head a brisk shake, as if to snap herself out of a daze. “Just so we’re absolutely clear, what are you saying?”

“Isn’t it obvious..?” The grin that had crept habitually onto Astarion’s face felt like a suffocating mask. She only stared back into his eyes, unblinking, waiting for him to continue. “I could turn you. Grant you an eternity.” ‘With me’, he wanted to add, but the look in her eyes made the words die on his tongue.

None of this was going the way Astarion had expected. Not that he had planned any of this… Still, he’d made certain assumptions. He’d anticipated the conversation and day would flow somewhere along the following lines: re-affirm his plans for Cazador. Exchange words of undying love and devotion. Maybe, maybe make love to her again, later, in celebration. Instead everything was slipping like fine sand through his fingers. Words simply wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Everything he thought he might say suddenly felt pathetic.

“Turn me? To become one of your spawn?” Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but she talked over him. “Two centuries as something you say is less than a slave, a puppet, and you would so easily offer the same fate to me..?”

“First of all,” he sputtered, “I don’t know why you immediately assumed there would be others. Secondly,” he continued, slowing down, “there is another way, or so I’ve read. You wouldn’t be a mere spawn, but a-” Astarion winced, cutting himself off. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. This was rapidly spinning further and further out of his control. “I thought you trusted me?” he asked instead.

“It’s not about trust,” she said. “If you had the choice between a hundred years of absolute freedom or being enthralled to someone for eternity - doesn’t matter who - me, Gale, your long-lost grandmother, anyone! What would you choose?”

“I would never compel you,” said Astarion, his voice tinged with a hint of pleading.

“That’s not the point,” she said, looking away, running her hand through and tugging at her hair. “Let’s just head back. We still need to set up before it gets dark, and I promised Karlach we would visit that bloody circus…”

Something inside Astarion shattered and spilled, ice-cold, over his heart as she got up and walked away.

Not even an hour had passed since some of the happiest moments he’s had in centuries.

They walked back in silence.

Eventually they came upon an outpost of Flaming Fists and steel watchers, who had appeared on the road they had taken into the city. They were apprehending everyone trying to pass through, whether they were leaving or entering.

“Let’s try a side street,” offered Astarion.

They found and made their way through a narrow alleyway. It was empty. Suspiciously empty, in fact - no children running through, no one out for a quick smoke, no drunks pissing on the walls.

Sure enough, once they were halfway through, three goons intercepted their way, stepping out of a doorway. Two humans and an enormous half-orc wide enough to block out most of the passage.

“Alley toll.” One of the thugs flashed a malicious grin, eyeing Asmodea up and down. “Better pay up, doll.” Three more jeering hoodlums appeared behind them as he spoke, armed with crude but lethal weapons.

“Attempting to detain a Council battlemage on duty? Bold but stupid,” she said gravely. “Hand over your profits and Lord Gortash won’t learn of your little enterprise. This is your only warning.”

Trying to bluff and deceive her way through, per usual. Was there even a Council anymore? Did it employ mages? No matter. Whether due to the fact that she and Astarion had decided to wander the streets of the city in civilian clothes, without armour, or simply because the lust for money and violence had gotten the better of the would-be muggers, they paid her attempt no heed.

The leader laughed.

“Or, how about we have some fun with you, and your Lord Gortash can come and collect your body from the river once we’re done with it?”

Astarion’s blood boiled.

He reached for his daggers, thoughts racing. Why in the hells had they come here barely armed..? They were surrounded, but perhaps if she blasted the three in front of them they might run through..? But they were probably too close for that… Could she misty step behind them and get away? His undead body would most likely survive whatever came, even with the tadpole.

“Take the ones behind,” Asmodea snapped, and Astarion followed her lead, as he had grown used to, silently praying to no particular deity that she knew what she was doing.

He ducked as one of the goons bellowed and swung a sword at him, dodging the blow to come up next to his attacker, burying a dagger between his ribs and another in his guts, for good measure. At least the alley was too narrow for all of the bandits to come in on them at once. Behind him, Asmodea spat some incantation that he wasn’t familiar with.

The next lout came at him, only to stop short, as Astarion scrounged up his meagre magical abilities to hurl a firebolt at his face, making the man yelp and grind to a halt in shock and pain. Astarion’s dagger followed through his eye socket shortly thereafter.

The entire altercation with the two thugs took mere seconds. Another controlled shout from Asmodea followed behind him.

The last of the muggers on Astarion’s side backed away, looking at the scene unfolding behind Astarion with a horrified expression, before breaking into a run and disappearing.

Astarion turned back to witness Asmodea standing with her arms crossed, looking unaffected, just as the half-orc who had been behind the group’s leader pulled his sword back out from the leader’s stomach, having impaled him from behind.

Asmodea barked another command as the leader collapsed, and the half-orc slammed the head of his other cohort, who hadn’t understood what was happening yet, against a wall, with a resounding crunch.

A domination spell.

Astarion felt nauseous. If his body had been capable of producing bile, it would have crept up at the back of his throat. For once, the smell of freshly spilled blood all around them was repulsive to him.

“Kneel,” Asmodea commanded, calmly. The half-orc’s body immediately dropped to its knees, with a thud that spoke of damaged kneecaps.

“I’m running out of time. Do you need him?” She stepped over the body of the group’s dying ex-leader and walked around the half-orc, to stand behind him.

Disgust and revulsion continued to claw at Astarion’s insides.

“…What?”

The half-orc’s eyes were void of any emotion. A small mercy.

“Blood. Do you want his blood, before I spill it?” she said nonchalantly.

“…No,” he swallowed. Not like this…

He watched as she slit his throat, carefully standing behind him to avoid blood spraying over herself. Comprehension returned to the man’s eyes just as he made his last gurgling sounds, before stilling forever.

“That was despicable,” Astarion hissed, finally breaking his gaze away from the body. “Compulsion? Really?!”

She gave him an incredulous look, momentarily speechless.

“This is what I do!” she exclaimed. “This is how I protect myself. You know this! What the fuck did you expect - that I would set off a fireball in an alley?! Or make one of them have a fit of giggles?!”

“You didn’t need to do anything, I could have handled all of them,” he countered.

“Oh, stand behind you like a meek little lamb?” She scoffed. “While neither of us are even wearing armour, and they’re on both sides? Don’t be ridiculous.” She crouched to wipe her dagger on the dead man’s clothes. “What does it matter, anyway,” she said, offhanded. “Dead is dead - who cares how they got there?”

“It was just like Cazador all over again,” Astarion said, bitterly. “Watching my siblings torture each other, for his amusement, waiting for it to be my turn to be compelled.”

She stilled as she crouched, not looking up at him.

“You fucking hypocrite,” she said, finally, rising.

“What in the hells are you talking about?” he grimaced.

“Comparing me to Cazador, when you’re planning to take his very place.”

“How dare you?” Astarion felt the last of his composure leaving him. “I am nothing like Cazador, and I never will be,” he growled.

“No?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re already thinking of your own spawn. Maybe you would keep your word and not compel me, but you would be curious. All that power that you’ve been wishing was yours for 200 years...” She gesticulated, tilting her head. “First just one teensy little slave - someone who’s wronged you, maybe, someone who deserves to bear your ire. Then, perhaps someone convenient, in a place of power. Someone like what you would have been, had Cazador not botched your death so bad that it became public. Then another. And another. And what will you do with them once you have them? Take them for midnight picnics and host slumber parties?”

She spat on the ground.

“I’m going back to camp.”

She stormed off, fuming, exiting the alleyway and mixing into the crowd. Astarion followed at a distance, discreetly wiping the blood that had landed on his hands on the shirt of a random passerby that stumbled out in front of him. He gritted his teeth, watching her.

It had taken every last bit of his self-control to not snap back at her during her little tirade.

He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction, but frankly all his things were at the campsite, and he still needed the group’s help, both with Cazador and the tadpole. And he couldn’t discount something else happening to her on the way back.

No, none of this was what he thought would end up happening today. Was this the end..?

It didn’t matter, he thought. Let her be stubborn. Let her accuse him of gods know what. He would do what he had set out to do. Hells, even if she changed her mind later - it would be too late. Let her live out her “hundred years of freedom” in regret.

And how fucking dare she?! Insinuating that he was or could ever be anything like Cazador. After all he had given her. His trust. His love. He didn’t have anything else. Not as a spawn, anyway.

But perhaps she would change her mind, after she gave his proposal more thought..? He could talk her into it, couldn’t he? He’s talked so many people into doing exactly what he wanted them to do…

There was no point in anything otherwise. It was all for her. All he wanted for himself was revenge. Freedom. Safety. But all the power in the world was meaningless if he couldn’t share it with her.

Astarion winced at the thought, hating that it even crossed his mind. If only he could claw it out of his brain and smash it against the cobbles beneath his feet. How much simpler life would be.

He would not grovel. He would not apologise. He would not change his mind. And he would rather die, again, than be caught running after her like a dog.

Astarion cursed, slipped into the shadows and turned invisible, breaking into a sprint. He wouldn’t be able to replicate the trick for a while now, if the need arose, but he couldn’t care less.

He raced up sets of stairs, speeding through a terrace, dodging the patrons of whatever establishment it was he was going through, and leaped, unseen, onto the next building’s, until he was ahead of her, descending back onto the ground and losing his invisibility around the corner from the main street, stepping out just in front of her.

He caught a glimpse of her scowling and furiously blinking away tears just before she crashed into his chest with a light gasp, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was stiff and rigid, but at least she didn’t try to push him away. Still, a part of him was screaming that it was already too late.

“I don’t want you to have to commit those atrocities when you’re with me,” Astarion murmured into her hair, holding her close.

“You’d rather commit them yourself?” she retorted, her voice weak.

“I don’t want to,” he said quietly, as she seemed to become more malleable, and sank into his embrace, slowly wrapping her own arms around his back. “But I will if I have to. For you.”

“That makes two of us, I guess,” she managed, sounding choked up.

Astarion took a deep breath, relieved. Mine… Still mine… He thought to himself, touching his forehead against hers and stroking her cheek. Someone in the street heckled them, yelling something about getting a room.

“I already don’t have much to offer, beyond all my burdens,” he whispered. She looked up at him, eyes glistening. She tried to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. “I want to do what I can, for you. For us. What good am I if I can’t even keep you safe?”

He pressed his lips against her forehead as she hugged him tighter. He had no idea whether he had convinced her of anything, or if she simply didn’t have the will to argue anymore, but for now it didn’t matter.

“I will love you no matter what,” she breathed.

Another jeer followed from the crowd, and someone cursed at them to get out of the way.

“A legion of wolves sounds tempting right about now,” she added, as he smiled.

“Do you still want to get Karlach and go to that circus?” he asked.

“Fuck the circus,” she mumbled into his shirt. “But I guess we should.”

They made their way back to the camp, fingers interlocked again. The silence that stretched once more almost felt comfortable this time.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading!

This is the last in-game part of the series for now (aside from some smut - see below). If you want to continue reading about my Tav and Astarion, go ahead and check out Bloodbang Chronicles which takes place 5 years after the end of the game.

Series master list

Next in in-game series - A night at the inn (branches off into smut)

AO3

~~~~~

Tag list:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

@spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin

@asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox

@icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna @mj-bites @bardic-inspo

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

192 notes · View notes

myers-meadow · 11 months ago

Text

Palace life: A! Astarion x Tav drabble

Title: Palace life

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Tav (unnamed)

Summary: A year after the reunion party, you've settled into life at the old Szarr palace, and into your role as the Vampire Lord's dear consort. A small vignette into my Tav's life past the game end.

Warnings: Ascended Astarion himself. Blood drinking.

Word count: 530-ish

Please be kind, this is my first attempt at writing Ascended Astarion, and perhaps even Astarion altogther. divider by @/saradika-graphics

The sunlight of the day fades, leaving the sky orange, with the deepest blue overhead. About time you return to the palace.

Astarion is waiting for you in the dining hall he favours, surrounded by corpses, two spawn and some half-dead poor sod. Hunger gnaws at you by the sight of him and those red droplets that have since dried on his skin.

"Love, there you are," Astarion coos. His spawn eye him, weary at his honey-sweet tone. "You've been out for a while, haven't you?"

There's a hint of something underneath his sweet tone, but you don't mind it. He's still your love, your world. He pats the chaise lounge he's sitting on and you sit down next to him. With a soft smile, you reach out to play with his curls.

"I was soaking in the sun. It feels like the warmth is still there."

He eyes you lazily, like a cat, taking in all of you, every detail of your appearance. "Will you go out again tomorrow? I'll join you." He leans up to drape himself over you, sitting in your lap sideways. "I've been inside for too long these past few weeks." His arms come to rest around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. "You're still warm from the sun, too. Gods, you gorgeous thing... Have I missed anything while you were out?"

"The sunset was breathtaking..." You reply, the softness of his curls underneath your fingers soothing you. "I fed some stray cats, you know I just can't resist." You take a breath to steel yourself. "And I ran into Karlach and Wyll. They're back for a visit to the city."

"Ah. Are they still hunting the demons of Avernus?" His laugh is all teeth, and little joy. Karlach's words after his ascension play in your head. It seems he's not let go of them entirely either.

"It's been a year since the reunion party," You shift on the sofa, settling under Astarion's weight more comfortably, "it's making me nostalgic. I'd love to see everyone again."

Astarion scoffs. "Sure, let them come here this time. Let them see us."

You smile softly, leaning into his body, head on his shoulder. You fit against him just so perfectly.

His sharp nail caresses your cheek. "You must be hungry, pet. I saved you some." He leans down and grabs the barely conscious man by his feet by the neck, presenting him to you. "Have a drink. Indulge."

You'll never disobey him, you thought to yourself, as you finally sate that painful hunger. It'll return, all too soon, as you wipe your mouth, leaning back, tipping your head back, and laughing. The delirium of blood settles, making you giddy. Astarion settles over you, moving himself to your lap fully, you look at him, lazy and full.

"You look so good like this, darling," his eyes are similarly heavy-lidded. "Would you mind if I have a last taste of the man?" And he leans down for a deep, wet kiss, not waiting for an answer. From the corner of your eye, his spawn look on, with something akin to jealousy brewing in their gaze.

#ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #meadow's writing #bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #ascended astarion fanfic

81 notes · View notes

simpcityy · 1 year ago

Text

My Little Spawn Pt.7 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all. MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU AREN'T IN ACT 2 YET.

Author Notes: (PLEASE READ) I hope all of you are excited for this chapter, I know some of you have been waiting for an update. I will be updating more chapters less, I got a new job, so I've been trying to focus on that. Thank you for understanding my lack being online. So, these next chapters will just be mostly fillers to move faster on act 3 so we can get some father battle. So, this chapter and the next might feel empty or rushed because we are on part 7 and we haven't reach act 3 and Cazador hasn't made an appearance yet. I want this series to have at least a maximum of 12 chapters. As always, Thank you so much for the support! I should be updating the master list with all the links of each chapter soon. Remember to Reblog and like if you enjoy this series. I am happy to start a taglist for this series since this week I will be working on a story well two.

Every time they settle down for the night, Astarion would be pacing and complaining how they are wasting time, you could be in danger. “Astation, we need rest for any enemies up ahead” Gale began only to be yelled at by the pale elf. Everyone was on edge with Astarions foul mood keeping their distance from him, even Tav. Tav mostly kept to themselves as Astarion only glared the meanest eyes at them, spewing over and over it’s their fault. “We could've found them already but here you are all lazing around.” He crossed his arms sitting at his tent. “Alright fangs, we get it.” Karlach looks over, carrying over wood on her shoulder. “You are always welcome to go on your own and find them. We are all worried for the little soldier, but we need to be smart about this and not endanger them more” Astarion only looks away and sits alone in his tent missing his little spawn.

You were running trying to avoid the shadow curse taking over you. You somehow escaped that cell, but it cost the life of a guard. All you could see is their life drained. You felt so bad but yet they tasted so sweet. You vowed yourself not a single word of this to Astarion. You were scared he was going to get mad. You ran over to a fire staying close to it whimpering. Hearing footsteps near you, you quickly crouch behind a large rock and peaked. Hoping whatever is coming near is friendly. “Halt! Who goes there!” A feminine voice calls out. “Come out or arrows would be fired” They threaten. You slowly walk out of your hiding spot. Gasps were heard, “It’s just a child” the woman walks over and smiles “Are you okay? We won’t hurt you.” She kneels down holding a touch. “I escaped from a big castle…” You whisper, staying close to your rock. “Castle? Moonrise towers.” One of them whispers to their leader. “Come, we have a safe place called the Last Light Inn, you will be safe there. There are children of your age as well. “She gently took your hand and kept you close. “Harpers lets go before the Shadow Curse gets us.” She commands and walks down a path.

You felt lost inside this inn. You watched as those same Tieflings from the Grove were playing a quiet game. You slowly walked over “Hi…can I play?” You placed your arms behind your back. They only look at you before going back to their game. You turned around ready to walk back to the chair you were in, but a hand grabbed your arm and spun you back to the Tiefling children. “Hey now, is that how we treat a hero? If I remember correctly, they helped us out back at the Grove.” Mol grins looking back at the children “So I reckon you reconsider their offer.” Once they see Mol, they quickly move over offering you a spot. You smile “Thank you!” You quickly sat on the open spot playing with them.

Hours passed and you met many people, you caught up with Alfira but you noticed she seemed sad. You also noticed there are a couple of Tieflings missing but didn’t question it. You met Jaheira and Isobel along with many more. You stayed by Mol’s side befriending her. You munched on a piece of bread given by Jaheria when you looked overhearing a commotion. “Stay inside, could be dangerous” Alfira told you two before walking outside. You didn’t mind as you kept eating but hearing a voice you’ve missed so much; you dropped your bread.

“Astarion!” You yelled running outside tearing up. “Stay back little one!” Jaheira warns as you go outside and slip past her. Astarion looks overhearing his name and swore his dead heart had a heartbeat again when he saw you alive and unharmed. He picked you up quickly and held you close, placing your head into the neck of his shoulder “Oh thank god your alive little spawn” He didn’t care who saw him, he was feeling many emotions. He kissed the top of your head. Mol walks over “They are the ones who saved us, and that is their daddy.” Astarion looks up hearing Mol “I’m just a caretaker” He rolls his eyes. The group can see their spawn companion is back to his normal self.

After the group minus you, take some herbal medicine that makes you say the truth, you stay near Astarions side. “What have you been up to little Spawn.” He brushes your hair as you sit between the space of his legs. “I was locked up in a castle when I woke up. There were these people and they called me beautiful artwork.” You look up at him. He frowns “So they know about your situation. “He sighs “They aren’t wrong, your kind is an artwork to those who have bad intentions. Usually…you would…” He tries to find the right words “Not be breathing, not even a second you were born. Which explains why there isn’t a high population of little spawns like you, well Dhampirs. “He explains though he knew you weren’t paying attention as you were busy watching a weed flow by the wind. He chuckles to himself as you were easy to get distracted. You got up from your spot and walked over greeting everyone you missed, getting hugs from left to right. You even got a pat on the head from Lae’zel. Nighttime came and you pouted at Astarion “But I don’t want to!” You wiggle around in his arms. You didn’t want to stay in the camp again. “It’s for your own good, it’s too dangerous out there.” He sighs “Tav say something” He motions his eyes over to you. Tav only looks over before looking over to you, “(Y/N) it’s safer for you to stay at camp. You don’t want Astarion to be worried sick again.” They pat your head. You only pout before huffing “Fine” You finally relax in his arm. “And you are never going to leave my side anymore” Astarion placed you over his hip walking to his tent.

Over the couple of days, you were learning many things about nature thanks to Halsin. You giggle as he shifts out of his bear form. “Again! Again!” You cheered. “Alright alright.” He chuckles trying his best to keep up with your energy. More days went by, and a new temporary companion joined the group, Arabella. It took some time for you to warm up and approach her after Astarion told you to not question anything about her parents. You stood near her and kept silent before she broke the silence “You can talk to me you know; I am nothing like those children from the Grove.” She looks at you. Sitting down next to her, you look at the ground before looking up to Gale who was at his tent giving you the thumbs up. You took a deep breath and looked at Arabella. “Would you like to be my friend?” The Tiefling smiles “Of course. I think I need a friend at this point in my life. “

Hours rolled by and Astarion sighs walking back to the camp after successfully being able to get inside moonrise towers and become part of the group for their plan. “You know I can’t wait for when we stab them in the back” He smirks before looking over to see you and Arabella playing catch with Scratch. Scratch gets the ball whenever you fail to catch it and rolls away from you. “Were they able to play with other children over at Cazador’s palace?” Tav walks over to Astarion. The pale elf lets out a small smile seeing how happy you look. “No…Cazador never lets them out of the palace, never thought of it since I thought they were a spawn. Sunlight is our number one enemy after all, but I think this…this is making them feel more connected to their…human side you can say…I haven’t heard them complain about blood hunger. Maybe this distracts them” He hums before walking over “(Y/N), time a bath and do not fight me on this” He began before seeing you dart off. “Come back here!” He yells Tav only chuckles crossing their arms and lean back a bit watching you slip past Astarions legs and escape every time from his grasp. Everything was slowly going back to where it should, minus the tadpole and mind flayer situation.

#dadstarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #dadstarion x child reader #astarion x child reader #My Little Spawn #baldurs gate fic #fatherfigure astarion

122 notes · View notes