#nonbinary tav | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

songbirdtales · 1 year ago

Text

Keepsakes (AstarionxTav)

Author's note:

The more I'm writing the more this is turning into the slowest of burns. IDKY I'm eating up Astarion and Gale rivalry but its fueling me lol. Enjoy!

Tav sat by the fire with a ragged stuffed bear. The tattered toy had tears in several limbs and had been partially decapitated. Tav has some rags and a needle set aside as they examine the damage, mentally calculating their supplies.

“You’ll kill your eyes like that.” Gale stood over their shoulder, his arms crossed behind his back as he surveyed the scene.

“Good thing I’ve darkvision, yeah?” They offered him a fanged smile, the levity of conversation welcomed.

“Still, if you’ve need of, you’re welcome to use my tent. I keep it well lit for late night reading.” He was doing it again, this dance they’d been at the last few days. This dance of over generosity met with deflection when Tav would probe at his intentions. Sure, perhaps it was simply friendly companionship, but the dissonance in his words and actions made Tav feel there was something Gale wasn’t telling them.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you awake, we need you fresh tomorrow.”

Gale held his hands up as if he’d been caught in a crime. “No need to worry, I’ll be sleeping by the fire tonight. It’ll be empty regardless of me.” An arm opened to gesture back towards his tent. “You’re welcome to it as you please.”

And again they went. “Thank you, Gale. I’ll keep it in mind.” He couldn’t say much to that. Tav looked to their rags, then back up to the wizard. “Gale, could you help me with something actually?”

“Of course!” He was so eager. “How can I help?” Tav almost found themself pitying him. He wanted them so bad, and although Tav couldn’t deny there was a physical attraction, they didn’t want him like that, and they respected him too much to play with his heart.

“Do you have any scrap cloth?” Tav held up the moth worn rags, some had holes in the center with very little usable fabric, it made for a rather limited stock.”I’m trying to mend this toy I found in the village we passed through.”

“The goblin infested one? I hadn’t even noticed.” That’s what he was growing to like about Tav. They were thoughtful, even if they weren’t exactly a hero. They were a chaotic neutral soul from everything he’d seen. He didn’t mind that, but he found it unfortunate how they seemed to attract the worst kinds of characters, himself included. “I think I have a few pieces I can spare.” He nodded towards his tent. “I didn’t know you liked dolls.”

“I’m not sure I do, but mending things like this is familiar, and I could use something familiar right now.” Their eyes had turned back to the toy in their hands. They grabbed their supplies and stood, ready to follow him back to his tent, which is exactly what they hadn’t wanted to do. Still, they could keep this from escalating in a direction they didn’t want. Everything was still fine.

“I understand. I’ve been grabbing every book we pass. It’s the most I’ve read in ages. It’s comforting.” Gale said as they walked side by side to his tent. His strides were longer and quicker than Tav’s, Gale actively having to alter his pace and path to keep at their side. His body language betrayed his excitement, and Tav felt nothing at the sight but anxiety. Tav paused beside his sitting cushion as Gale stepped forward, kneeling into the tent and gathering some slashed clothes. “There you are,” Gale beamed as he handed the cloth to Tav.

The cloth was good quality, heavy and strong, but it had been brutally cut up in battle to the point it wasn’t much worth repairing. The blood had been mostly washed out but the reminisce of stains lingered. All in all, there was more than enough good fabric for their bear.

“You really took a beating the other day…” Tav mused as they looked over the torn robe. They’d not really thought much about how brutal the Gnoll on the road had been.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He joked back, laughing a little until he noticed Tav wasn’t laughing back. He quickly tamped the laughter down to awkward silence.

Tav offered Gale a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re ok Gale. You’re a valued part of this party, and I don’t know how we’d fare without you. So, do try to be more careful, yeah?”

“Of course.” He said with a nod, his eyes struggling to keep contact with Tav’s demonic glow. His gaze only turned up when Tav spoke again.

“Well, I better get started if I want to get some sleep tonight.” Tav said as they switched spots with Gale, his body naturally following their movement as if they were both being pushed by opposite currents. Tav got down and crawled in, sitting in the pile of cushions Gale had amassed and formed into a reclined seat. They curled their legs up, propping their supplies on their thighs as they began to tear the gifted cloth into smaller segments.

Gale didn’t leave, sitting down on the cushion outside. He grabbed something nearby to seem as though he had a task himself, but it was truly just an excuse to watch Tav work. Tav didn’t mind, even if they saw his act for what it was. Eventually he actually did become fixated on his task, the two working silently, fueled by the other’s presence. It was peaceful, familiar, like working in a library. Gale had no idea how long they had been at this, but as he pulled himself from his work to speak to Tav, he paused.

Inside the tent Tav was passed out in his pillows. The bear had been noticeably mended in parts, but it was not yet done. Gale got up from his seat and kneeled into the tent. His hand reached for the blanket, pulling it across the tent to gently drape it over Tav. A warm smile bloomed on his lips as he let them sleep. Only then would Gale leave, heading back to the fire.

“There you are,” The annoyance in Astarion’s voice was palpable as he approached Gale at the fire. “Where have you been off to?”

Gale knew the smell of jealousy well, and Astarion was worse than he’d like at hiding it. “Just doing a little late night carving.” Gale reached in his pocket and produced a small wooden figurine. It was crudely carved, but even Astarion had to admit it vaguely resembled a cat in a cat’s most basic shape.

Astarion stared at the deformed wooden cat for a moment before looking up at Gale with the least amusement Gale had ever seen from him. “Do you know where Tav is?”

Gale had to actively resist smiling but the faintest glimmer of a triumphant grin couldn’t help but pull at his lips. He’d cross his arms over his chest. “I do.” He said simply and curt as if he had no intention of elaborating. Anger twitch to Astarion’s face, and just as he was just about to speak, Gale spoke again, cutting him off. “They’re already asleep for the night. Poor thing, utterly exhausted. I’d let them be.”

Astarion’s face had more warmth to it than Gale had ever seen, the heat of his anger barely contained. “I asked you a question. Do not make me repeat myself.” That normally beautiful face was twisted and sharp as Astarion glared daggers into the human wizard.

The grin grew broader across Gales lips at Astarion’s posturing and he’d nod back over his shoulder. “I thought it best to leave them be.” He was so smug about it, as if he’d won some unspoken competition.

Astarion glanced over in the direction Gale had gestured quickly at first before realizing Gale had nodded to his tent. His gaze came back to Gale as a glare. “No need to make things weird, Gale. We’re all adults here.” If his tongue wasn’t so sharp, Gale might have noticed the projection in Astarion’s words, but both men were preoccupied with their egos. The condescension in his voice was cutting, leaving Gale speechless long enough for Astarion to turn sharply away and saunter off.

Gale sighed as the Elf departed, a wave of relief washed over him that his jugular was still intact. “Dramatic.” He finally scoffed.

Astarion was at Gale’s tent in a matter of strides. Still fuming, he knelt beside the opening of the tent and pulled the flap aside with his arm. The sight of Tav, fully clothed, dead asleep, with a partly repaired stuffed toy was not what Astarion had been expecting. Instantly the wind was knocked out of his anger and the fire of it died, leaving Astarion frozen. Any action he’d thought to take was now wildly dramatic if not inappropriate… for a moment he was almost aware of his jealousy, until Tav stirred.

A soft, sleepy sound came from Tav as one eye struggled to pull itself half open. Their arms were just about to start pushing themself up when Astarion reached out a hand. He didn’t touch them, but his hand hovered just overtop their back. They didn’t push up into the hand, they didn’t have the strength. They were exhausted from the near daily feeding.

“Hush, go back to sleep.” He urged in a sweet whisper as his eyes turned about the tent. Gale had this packed with all sorts of magic nonsense, but his eyes fell back to the stuffed bear. He was fascinated instantly, not because of the toy, but because of the magic radiating from it. They had pulled apart Gale’s bloodstained shirt for thread and stitched it in a way he’d seen before from the witches of Baldur's Gate, a way of hiding protections and curses in the stitch and weave of clothing. Though in this instance it was very rudimentary, Astarion couldn’t help but wonder how a tiefling bard knew such magic.

“Are you hungry?” Even half asleep, Tav’s mind was preoccupied with the camp, making sure everyone was safe. He almost admired that about them, if only for the wrong reasons. He was impressed that someone could have the willpower to keep all of this together.

“Not tonight darling.” His hand reached for their hair, gently shifting some loose strands from their face. He’d lean over to their ear and whisper, “Sweet dreams,” as Tav’s eye fell shut once more.

He lingered, hesitating, his eyes shifting back to the bear before deciding it was best to leave what questions it gave him till the morning. Astarion would wait until he’d gotten a few steps from the tent before letting his real thoughts catch up to him. He was hungry, but a boar would have to suffice. It would look bad on him to drink Tav’s blood while they’re passed out in another person’s tent, and he needed to keep appearances up if his very simple plan was to succeed.

The next morning Tav woke up early. Gale had aligned some objects in his tent to take the first light of dawn and amplify it and wake him, Gods did it work, Tav almost wished it hadn’t. They were groggy, vision fading in and out of focus as they crawled out into the sunlight. They sat on their knees and stared at the horizon in silent reverence for a time. Their thoughts swam with everything that had happened leading up to the blighted village; the abandoned temple, the grove. It all came back like recalling a vivid dream, surreal and fragmented, yet so clear.

They let their eyes close as the still cool air washed over them. Tav’s breath fogged in the morning chill as they let out a deep, tired yawn. Their fangs snapped as they closed their mouth and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. As they crawled back in the tent to retrieve their craft, they noticed something shine in the morning light. A single white hair. Tav cocked a brow but gathered it with the rest of the fabric and the bear.

Everyone was still asleep as Tav ted lightly towards and past the fire. Even Astarion was still in his trance from what it seemed so Tav went towards the river. As soon as their back was turned, a sanguine eye popped open. Astarion was silent as he followed Tav towards the water. He watched as Tav washed their hands and face in the running water before settling on a rock and pulling their bear back out.

“Good morning, Darling.” He watched them closely, the breaking of the silence practically made Tav jump but they didn’t hide their work. They’d been threading their needle and paused, tucking the needle into the bear so as to not stab themself with it on accident.

“Good morning,” Tav sighed in relief, a soft smile pulling across their face before their hand twirled in a flourish towards him. “You dropped something in Gale’s tent.” They held out the single silver hair between two fingers, offering it back to him. “You should be more careful with a wizard.”

Astarion scoffed and looked between Tav and the hair. “How do you know that’s mine?” The two stared silently at each other for a long moment, Astarion set in his flimsy denial as Tav’s hair was much longer, much more yellow, and much less curly than the strand in question. He’d groan a little. “Fine, yes, it’s mine.” A hint of irritation simmered in his tone before shifting into that arrogant sarcasm. “I’m surprised you’re giving it back instead of using it in your little curse doll, make me fall in love with you.”

Tav choked on laughter, doubling over as their cheeks puffed before their lips burst open. Their hand clapped over their mouth to muffle the sound so as to not wake the others. “I don’t need magic to steal a heart.”

They turned their hand down, ready to flick the hair away towards him but Astarion reached out to snatch it before they could. He didn’t keep it, brushing it off his hand on his trousers. Tav looked back down to the bear and held it up a little.

“Besides, these are for protection. It’s something my mother taught me to do. When I saw this in the rubble, I thought I might give myself something familiar to do. This one’s for Gale, since it’s got his blood and all on the thread.” Those blue eyes turned up to Astarion curiously. “I can make one for you next time I find a stuffed animal.”

“Don’t expect me to give you my bloody drawers.” Astarion huffed.

“No need for that.” Tav was still chortling as they picked up their needle to resume work. “I'll be honest the blood was dramatic of him, but I’m thinking of making one for everyone. Give my hands something to do while we travel.”

“Really?” His tone shifted as he leaned just a little closer, that perfect, sly smile on his lips. Tav knew a performance when they saw one, and this was well rehearsed. “Nothing else to busy your hands with?”

Tav knew this game, bored flirtation. It was one of their favorites, and considering there was nothing else to do besides fixate on the imminent fear of death, why not play along? Their hair swayed as they tilted their head, strands still caught in their horns and loose down their back. Their hair was long, past their shoulders and with a hint of a wave. “Yet.” They hummed in response, a curious look on their face, studying his reaction.

Astarion recoiling as a very confused “What?” come from him before he’d clear his throat. He wasn’t used to someone flirting back, normally they were too intimidated. “I mean, What about your uh, violin? Or is it a Lute?”

Tav backed off, their smile growing wider at his stumbling words. “I’m fine playing classics by the fire, but I’m a bit reluctant to work on my own stuff around the fire with strangers. Besides, most of them want to sleep as soon as we get back to camp. I'm not gonna keep them up.”

“Oh come now,” He’d put the charm back on, gesturing to the camp. “I’m sure Gale would be thrilled.”

Tav’s face soured, their nose scrunching a little as their lips thinned. “Yeah…” They didn’t seem excited by the idea. “You… never heard me play in Baldur’s Gate, did you?”

Astarion laughed and found himself a seat on a nearby stone. “Darling, I have no idea who you are beyond our time together with the rest of our companions.” Tav squinted as they caught sight of a glimmer of honesty. When he didn’t care about something, he had no filter, and in that they could see just a hint of what hid behind the mask.

An easy smile grew across Tav’s lips. “What kind of music do you think I make?” They asked with pure amusement.

Astarion stared blankly at Tav for a moment, blinking a few times as the gears in his head turned. “What other kind of music do bards make besides adventure ballads?”

Tav instinctively covered their mouth as they laughed again, truly amused by his ignorance. It drew Astarion’s eye instantly. “I mostly sing about grief and death, heartbreak and vengeance. It’s not exactly the mood I want to bring to camp.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He said as he crossed his arms. “Come, let me hear some of this emotional music. It can’t be that much of a downer.”

Tav rose a brow, his challenge wordlessly accepted. They reached into their back for a small book where they worked out their lyrics. “Here’s something I’m still working on.” They cleared their throat and began reading the lines like poetry. It was an eloquent verse, and very clearly described having dreams of murdering their own father.

Astarion was thrown off in a completely new way. The longer they read for, the more his expression contorted as Astarion tried to mask his concern. They only got two lines in before Astarion held one hand out and averted his gaze. “Th-that’s enough. I get it.”

“Yeah,” Tav was holding back laughter. “I don’t need to be playing songs like that at a time like this. I’ll get my musical fix by playing their favorites by the fire, but I figure it’s better to save the heavy stuff.” Their eyes turned to the sky, the sun was just about to peek over the trees, the morning star fading as the sky lost its pastel hues. “Never gets old.” They sighed, as the sun came up and the warmth of its light washed over them both.

Astarion flinched instinctively before letting out a deep sigh of relief. “No, it does not.”

They sat in the silence of the sunrise for a moment before Tav’s voice gently broke it. “I know everythings scary right now, but I truly believe that if we stick together, we can survive this. And if not, at least we’re free, for what it’s worth.”

“I think freedom’s worth everything.” His eyes were fixed on the water, watching the river glisten as it ran. The flashes reflected in his eyes, making them sparkle like rubies.

Tav let themself stare for longer than they should have, taking in the contours of his features, the shapes of his shadows, the lines in his skin. They didn’t care if he caught them, though he seemed too fixated on the water to notice. “So do I.” Tav’s voice melted into the sound of the river, so soft Astarion barely registered they’d said anything at all.

By the time he’d looked back to them, Tav was standing, holding the now fully mended bear in their hands. They tilted their head as they gazed at the bear, checking their work. They bit their lower lip in thought, as if trying to remember a forgotten step. Finally, they went to the river crouched beside the edge. With one finger, Tav reached to wet their nail, holding the drop in the carved point of their nail before bringing it to the forehead of the bear. The toy looked a little cleaner, Astarion could even feel the magic of it was more pure. The protection charm was complete.

“I’ll try to find you a different animal. Maybe a goose?” They said with a joking smile.

Astarion clicked his tongue, squeezing his still folded arms as he pouted. “Take your time.” He had no desire for a hagcraft charm.

Tav shook their head as they left Astarion at the riverbank. The elf glanced back towards the fire to see Tav giving the now well awake Gale the bear. He seemed more fascinated with the magic than the bear itself and began to info dump about thread based magic.

Astarion’s face felt relatively hot as anger gathered in him. He covered his face with a hand as his mind still raced from that one word. He didn’t like this, whatever feeling this was. He didn’t recognize the feeling as it gathered in his core, this twisting in his guts, as if he’d eaten something rotten, yet still starved. Was it really hunger? He’d fed that night and this felt different. He’d already made them his mark, so why was he starting to panic?

It was then that a new thought came to Astarion, what if Tav can see through his game? How well could he really wrap them around his finger if they knew it was fake? And what did that mean for the security of his simple plan?

199 notes · View notes

thedreamlessnights · 1 year ago

Text

Liability - pt. 1

Astarion x NB!Tav

Synopsis: Two hundred years after being sentenced to prison by a corrupt magistrate, Arden is abducted by a nautiloid and subjected to a tadpole insertion. Little do they know, that very magistrate is on the same ship - and shares their uncomfortable affliction.

Warnings and tags: Brief mentions of violence and death. This fic follows the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, so there will be spoilers. Enemies to Lovers, Barbarian!Tav, Drow!Tav, Multi-Chapter, Upcoming NSFW.

Word Count: 2k

It all starts with burning sand and a mouthful of salt water.

Arden hasn’t seen the beach before, but the taste of it on their tongue is not a welcome one. It’s rancid. Raw. Stinging at the cut on the inside of their cheek. Long after they’ve spit it out, it lingers.

Everything does.

The throbbing of their head, the persistent squirming of that thing behind their eye. Even the grit of sand won’t seem to come off of them. It’s like every terrible sensation has been taken in and amplified by ten.

Everything aches as they move, stumbling to their feet, taking in the sights around them. The flaming remains of the ship. The deep, clear water. The distant greenery.

Well, Arden thinks, giving a bitter, half-smile that no one is around to see. At least I’ve learned something new about myself.

They give one last glance toward the shore then set off, a mantra echoing through their thoughts.

I fucking hate the beach.

If things were different, joining with a worshipper of Shar would be insanity.

Shadowheart may act as though it’s private information, but her loyalties are as clear as day. A follower of darkness. A pawn for the lady of loss. The presence of Shar is like a shadow that never fades - a wound that never heals - and Arden knows it.

Still, they’ve never been in less of a place to discriminate. The two of them have tadpoles in their brains, after all. They know each other from the ship. Shadowheart seems to trust them after being freed from that horrific pod.

Given the circumstances, this is the best either of them can manage, and Arden is certainly not about to complain.

So here they are. Wandering through the landscape together, a quiet but implicit trust placed between them. A common goal, intertwining their fates.

Are there more? Arden finds themself thinking. Are there more like us?

If the number of pods on the ship was any indicator, then there must be. The gith might be out there somewhere. Others, too. How many souls are wandering about, counting down the time until they’ll be changed into monsters?

Arden doesn’t even want to know. The further they get from this place, the better, but the circumstances aren’t making it easy. It’s blazing hot, and the headache that’s been there for hours is only getting worse.

Splitting. Throbbing.

It’s the reason they nearly miss the disembodied arm coming out of the rock, waving around in the midst of swirling purple light as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

“Hello?” a voice says, accompanying the arm. “A hand? Anyone?”

It’s likely not a good idea to touch a random hand in a magical rock, but, with the day they’re having, Arden is long past that. They let out a sigh and reach out, taking hold of the hand and giving a sharp pull.

It doesn’t work.

For one, their palms are embarrassingly sweaty, and the voice on the other side isn’t exactly helping. Then there’s the matter that whoever is in there is almost… held back. As if he’s being continually sucked in while they’re trying to get him out.

“Harder! Come on, put your back into it!” the voice calls.

Arden has half a mind to let him go and walk away, but they don’t. Instead, they grit their teeth, tighten their grip, and yank. The arm loosens but still doesn’t give.

“Ow!” the voice says. “Careful!”

“Here,” comes Shadowheart’s voice, somewhere behind Arden. “I’ll help.” She steps closer, grabs onto their arm, and nods.

“On three,” Arden says. “One, two…”

Three.

The two of them give a heave, and the next thing Arden knows, they’re on their back in the dirt, and their ribs are being crushed by whoever was in that rock.

“Hells,” they mutter, squirming, lungs increasingly aching for air. “Get off!”

The weight above them shifts, then lessens. “Ah - apologies,” the man says, quickly getting to his feet. “As is likely obvious, that didn’t go as expected.”

He offers them a hand up, and they take it. Their ribs only ache a little now, but they scowl at him all the same.

The man simply smiles in response, taking in a breath as he briefly surveys the surroundings. “Gale of Waterdeep,” he finally greets, holding out a hand again.

He’s handsome, which isn’t something Arden ought to be noticing in times like this. Long brown hair, grey streaks, dark eyes.

A bad idea, they think.

Which, unfortunately, has never stopped them before.

“Arden.” They quickly shake his hand, and he has the decency to avoid grimacing at the sweat on their palm. If only it wasn’t so bloody hot out.

“Arden,” he says, his smile widening. “Pleased to meet you. Thank you, by the way. For a moment there, I thought that place might be the end of me.”

He pauses, and something flickers in his eyes for a moment. “Say - but I know you, don’t I? You were on the nautiloid as well.”

Arden thinks, for a moment, back to the horror of the ship. The pods, and the terrified faces trapped inside of them. The fear. The smell of rot and blood in the air. There had been so many of them, and it had all gone by so quickly…

“I was there,” they manage to reply, grimacing. “Shadowheart, too. We both received the, er, insertion.”

Gale frowns. “As did I. A rather unwelcome procedure, if I may say so. I take it you know what this ‘insertion’ will do to us, left untreated?”

Arden huffs. “That it’ll turn us into mind flayers, you mean? We’re aware. We were looking for a healer before we found you.”

“Were you?” Gale asks. “A strong course of action, and… perhaps the only one, in our case.” He hesitates. “What would you say to us working together? We could lend each other a hand again, so to speak.”

Arden shares a glance with Shadowheart, fighting the urge to chew on the inside of their cheek. Shadowheart simply raises her brows, looking neither opposed nor in favor of Gale’s proposition.

“Alright,” Arden answers, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t see why not. If I’m honest, we need all the allies we can get.”

“Excellent,” Gale says. “You won’t regret it, if I can help it. Shall we proceed?”

And just like that, they’ve become a group of three.

Arden is just thinking that the day might turn out alright when everything falls apart.

Gale is a chatterbox, but his words are a welcome distraction from the horrific spiral of their thoughts. Shadowheart’s snark has them smiling, and even the sun’s brutality has let up.

They’ve all agreed to end one another should one of them begin to turn, but it’s clear none of them want to resort to that if they can avoid it. Who would?

Aside from the occasional squirming, the tadpole is silent. Arden isn’t sure whether or not that’s a good sign, but they don’t feel like a monster. Not yet, at least.

And then Arden sees him.

It doesn’t come together at first - the sight of him. It’s like a word out of reach on their tongue, a riddle they can’t quite solve. Their strained mind can’t put the picture together, even though all of the pieces lay at their feet.

White hair. Pale skin. Something is off, not quite right. Something is familiar, but it’s not what it was. He looks them in the eye without a hint of recognition and waves them closer.

“Hurry,” he says, his voice pressing, almost frantic. He looks out toward the nearby field, then points into the distance. “There, in the grass. I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it, can’t you?”

And it finally clicks.

His face. His voice.

It can’t be, they think, dizzy with something that’s somewhere between blinding fury and complete elation. The man responsible for the life they’ve lived for the last two hundred years is standing right in front of them. For a moment, they’re searching for his name, and then - it’s there.

Astarion.

“Well?” he asks impatiently. “Can you kill it or not?”

There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then they lunge at him.

Everything becomes oh so loud in the chaos, the blissfully rageful animal that Arden has become. Ears ringing, their heart pounding in their chest, the impact as the two of them hit the ground. The scrape of the dirt against their knees. They manage to get in one good punch to his face, and he yelps.

“Gods damn it!” he exclaims, fighting to get a dagger out of its sheath on his belt.

“Arden!” someone is yelling. “Arden, what in the hells are you doing?”

There’s a swift, sharp tug - a yank around their waist that knocks the wind straight out of them. Then they’re on their knees in the dirt, and a mace is at their throat.

“I don’t want to use this,” Shadowheart says, her voice trembling with something that might be anger. “But I will. If you’re turning.”

Arden finds themself trembling, bleeding and furious, barely able to think. “I…”

Their voice breaks, and they ball their hands into fists, sucking in a breath to calm themself. How the hells are they meant to explain?

“Gods,” Astarion hisses, stumbling to his feet, smoothing out his wrinkled clothes. “What in the hells is wrong with you?”

If Gale and Shadowheart didn’t look two seconds away from killing them, Arden would attack him again. “I’m not turning,” they insist as calmly as they can, keeping their gaze on Shadowheart. “I swear.”

For a moment, Shadowheart just studies them, internally debating. Then, finally, she lowers the mace.

“Tell me,” Astarion snipes, stepping a little closer. “Do you always do that to people in need?

His words are too much. Too ironic. Arden stares up at him, fuming, digging their fingers into the dirt so they don’t do something stupid. “And how do you treat people in need, Astarion Ancunín?”

Their words take him off guard. His eyes widen and he steps back, his gaze turning analytical as he looks them over.

“I… Do we know each other?”

They grit their teeth. “Yes. We do.”

But his face is blank. As they stare at him, they swear they can see fear in his eyes, but... nothing else. No recognition.

Gods. His eyes.

Arden is absolutely, positively certain that they’d been blue before. Blue. But they’re a dark, glimmering red now. If they didn’t know better, they’d say he was a vampire. But he’s in the sun. If he’s truly a vampire, he’d be burnt to a crisp now.

“Really?” he asks. “My deepest apologies, but it seems I’ve, erm… forgotten?”

They stare at him in sheer disbelief. Gods. He doesn’t even remember?

“Forgotten?” they ask sharply. “Interesting. And here I was, wondering how you’d managed to live with yourself after what you’d done. Do you forget everyone you’ve hurt, Astarion?”

Something flashes in his eyes. “Tell me who you are,” he spits.

Arden pushes to their feet, shaking, towering over him. “You were the magistrate for my case. Ten years in prison. I was innocent, but you didn’t care. Don’t you remember?”

They’re looking for their words to spark more anxiety in him, but - rather strangely - they seem to do the exact opposite of that. All of the tension bleeds out of his face, and he lets out a small, surprised laugh.

“Gods,” he says, relief palpable in his voice. “You’re angry over that?”

Arden doesn’t have any time to feel rage. Their tadpole squirms in their brain with a vicious intensity and a sharp, blinding pain, buckling them over.

Something flashes through their vision. Something that does not belong to them, forced unwillingly into their mind. Dark, familiar streets of the Lower City, but their limbs are not their own. Their actions, even their thoughts, all belong to the man in front of them.

There, he’s thinking. If I could just-

And then the memory is gone.

In the aftermath of the fading image, Arden suddenly feels as though they’ve lost something they’ll never quite get back. They stare at Astarion: similarly wide-eyed, two fingers pressed to his temple - and suddenly understand.

He has the tadpole, too.

#astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion x mc #astarion #astarion bg3 #nonbinary tav #mywriting

99 notes · View notes