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thepaintedlady00 · 1 year ago

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Nepenthe

Character Intro | Chapter 2

Chapter One: The Hanged Man

TW: blood, gore, some very intrusive and vividly dark thoughts about murder killing and so on, this ones gonna be a dark fic so if that's not something you're into steer clear y'all! But, all in all, first chapters pretty tame for the Dark Urge character. I'm going with a Durge that slightly differs from game Durge as she always has a hesitancy to killing and actively "fights" her dark urges from the start which isn't how I feel the in-game character was potrayed, but it's how I wanna do this series so 🤷‍♀️, I also really wanna let everyone know I'll be taking some creative liberties with the story and I'll be making the villains a bit more "redeemable" (mostly Gortash) they'll all still be the villains and they'll still do the evil shit but with Gortash in particular I wanna add some hints of regret and remorse for his wrong doings so I can give the asshole a happy ending! Because I am a whore for redemption arcs and happy endings! 😅😂

nepenthe • \nuh-PENTH-ee\ • noun. 1: a potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow; 2: something capable of causing oblivion of grief or suffering.

I had been called many names. Thief. Urchin. Whore. Murderer. Assassin. Monster. Demon. They all held some modicum of truth; after all, how else was one such as myself supposed to live? I bore no family name and held no lands or titles. All I had was a dagger and the blood on my hands. All I had to guide my path… To help me understand who… What I was was but an ember. A word whispered on hushed, fearful tongues.

Bhaalspawn.

It was a myth. Some horror story told by parents to keep their children in line. I knew there could be no truth in it… knew there could be no chance of it being a reality. I'd hunted down every piece of evidence I could over the years, and all of it told the same story. The spawn of Bhaal were long dead - all of them.

I could not be this. And yet the word echoed in me, rattling against my skull almost as loudly as the call for blood. And so, I continued hunting this rumor to the ends of Faerun. Hunting and hoping and killing and running. It was a hideous, pathetic life, but it was all I had. All I'd ever have if I stopped searching now.

Most would find the prospect of being some murderous creature horrifying. Most would have stopped searching when it became possible, but they didn't have this hunger. They didn't feel their skull burning, their whole being screaming for blood. They weren't like me.

From my rooftop perch above the city, I watched the people live their boring little lives. The marketplace was full of bodies, bags of flesh and bones and blood, hurrying and shouting and laughing without a care in the world. Sheep. A pen of them, mindlessly baaing to one another, completely unaware of the wolf lurking above them.

How I longed to leap down from that roof, to slither in what shadows I could find and circle them. My mouth went dry as my heart began to race in my chest. All sound faded, replaced by the symphony of rushing blood and beating hearts. I'd pick the one furthest from the group, the blacksmith. He smelt of salt and metal, a large man with a round belly that was practically begging to be sliced open. The edges of my vision darkened as I stared into the forge. He looked strong, but he'd be slow - much slower than he'd need to be to kill me before I did him. It would be easy.

My body drifted forward, leaning over the ledge of the rooftop. Every inch of me hummed as my fingers wrapped around the hilt of my dagger. So easy… Giggling children broke me from the dark fog. They ran through the streets together, playing whatever games normal little children play, as their families watched with a bright look. I'd studied that look often, how they smiled and their faces creased with joy. It was a look I had never known.

I remembered then the simple house with the green door. I remembered how it looked splattered with their blood - blood that oozed between the floorboards and dripped down the steps. The humming of bloodlust ebbed inside me as I pictured the bodies that littered the cobbled path to the house. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, not a spark of that bright thing… Not a spark of anything. The last one still breathing had crawled back inside, not strong enough to run but still not weak enough to just lay and die.

When I'd followed after her, dagger in hand and blood dripping from me like rain, she'd looked at me with a dark expression. Disappointment mingled with fear and disgust. That was the look I knew, the one she'd always looked at me with. As I got closer, the woman who called herself my mother spat her blood at me and growled out one last word before I watched her bleed out, "Monster."

That house - my house - had been the first. The first time, I'd let the hunger, the insatiable thoughts of bloodshed, win. The family I massacred that day had been my own, but I never regretted killing them, not for one moment that followed. They'd only been the first of many… Too many.

My rancid blood whispered to me: kill, kill, and kill again. This body of mine craved only death. Not my own, but that of others - everyone. In the beginning, I'd hoped it would fade, yet with each death, each lifeless body I left behind, the hunger only grew. The longing to kill again was never far from my mind, and it terrified me.

What kind of person… What sort of thing had this urge? A dark, twisted urge so powerful it consumed me, possessed me until I satisfied it with the blood and death it craved. My lungs filled with the cool city air, and the blurred edges of my vision slowly faded, replaced by the pain at the base of my skull growing as the urge festered, unsatisfied.

A heavy sigh echoed beside me as the rooftop shingles shifted under the unpredictable steps. "Restless already, young Master?"

"I just…" My mouth tasted rancid, the intrusive desire to snap my teeth down on my own tongue making the words difficult to get out.

"Which of the lovely little sheep calls to you this time?" He hummed, turning his head to look out into the crowd with an almost gleeful smile. "The baker?" He giggled, jumping in excitement. "No! The shopkeep! He looks like he'd make a particularly fascinating corpse!" Turning, his beady eyes bore into mine again as he examined my expression. "Not him either? One of the children, perhaps?"

"No!" I bit out, trying not to linger on how that prospect appealed to me. "The blacksmith."

The Butler turned his head eagerly and wiggled his fingers, clacking his claws against the shingles. "Oh, excellent! He'll be no match for you, my dear Master. So big and slow, with a copious amount of blood and viscera to work with. A most excellent choice indeed!"

My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides as I forced my lungs to fill with the fresh air. "I'm not killing him. I'm not killing anyone."

"Not this again," The Butler chided. "Young Master, you must–"

"You do not tell me what I must or mustn't do!" My voice was low but a whisper in the wind, but Sceleritas heard it. He heard it as though I'd screamed it at the top of my lungs. For a fleeting second, it looked as though he'd been hurt by my words and my dismissal of him. With a sigh, I shook my head and knelt beside him. "Sceleritas…"

He made a tsking noise and combed his claws through my hair, delicately brushing it back into place. "I live to serve you, young Master. Whether it leads to glorious blood and viscera or not, I live to serve."

I held his hand for a moment. "Thank you."

"I do wish you'd be true to yourself," he said carefully. "But, if you wish to fight your urge, I'll bite my tongue and let you make your own mistakes."

"Sceleritas," I scolded with a half smile.

He quickly shut his lips tightly and bowed. "Since we're not killing anyone, may I inquire as to what we're doing among the sheep?"

Rolling my eyes at his theatrics, I looked back out to the crowd. "Rumor has it this city has been plagued with worshippers of Bhaal. People -" Sceleritas gave me a confused look. "The sheep," I clarified, earning a toothy grin from him. "Are saying there's an old temple somewhere nearby."

"And you intend to find it?" He asked, pride and mischief filling his tone.

"If anyone will have answers for me, it'll be them." I looked down at the odd little goblin-like creature that had been by my side since I first woke, covered in blood. He had leathery skin and a small hat lined with the bones of a snake I'd killed. He kept his clothes neat, even amongst the blood. Sceleritas was still quite the mystery, and everything about him, right down to how his beady eyes watched me with that sparkle of darkness and his claws clicked together as he idly thrummed his fingers together, making it seem like he knew more than he let on. "Unless you, dear butler, know anything about this temple?"

His hands splayed across his chest as his mouth fell open in surprise. "Why, me? Young Master, I've been ever at your side! I know only what you do."

Narrowing my eyes, I watched his lips turn upward in a grin. "Hmm, we'll see."

"Enough chatter!" He plopped down on the rooftop, kicking his feet over the ledge. "You hurry on with your questioning. I'll be waiting right here when you're done."

"I'll be back before nightfall," I assured him, lifting my hood.

"Of course you will. Unless… perhaps, you find a worthwhile distraction," he said, eyes turning away from mine to stare down at the blacksmith, whose full belly jiggled as he laughed.

That longing hum… That dark urge made my head swim for a moment. Kill him, it demanded. Break his bones! Bathe in his blood! Take his life, for it is yours to take! I shook my head and quickly turned away. "I will be back before nightfall."

"As you say, dear Master."

I dropped into a dark alley, my ill-fitted boots doing little to save my knees from feeling the force of the ground solidly meeting my feet. The alley stank with piss and rotting food, a stench that hung over the poorer districts. It was stripped bare of the fragrant roses and perfumers of the upper city. Stripped of everything, with people still demanding more be taken in the name of their lords and ladies and their fine parties and expensive silks.

Baldur's Gate. A beacon of hope and second chances. So many poured through the city gates with those big eyes, spilling with joy and relief, and it would be those eyes I'd see months later devoid of all that sparkle. Joy is a difficult thing to nurture when you're starving and flea-ridden. Baldur's Gate. The city where any and all are welcome to live and create a new life for themselves. A lie.

As I stepped over the multitude of beggars that no longer whispered pleas my way or anyone else's, I held onto that bitter feeling that had festered since I'd stepped foot here. My hands bore the blood of thousands, innocent and guilty alike, but even I was above the cruelty of this city. I was a killer, to be sure, but this city… The cursed Baldur's Gate was just as much a killer as me. At least I didn't pretend to be something else.

I moved among the crowd, ignoring that tingle that sent shivers up my spine at the sight of so many opportunities to slit someone's throat or tear their stomach open. Keeping my head down and my hood high, I kept my feet steadily moving. "You hear about this, uh… Shipment… That arrived late last night?"

"Which one?" The butcher replied, trying not to seem so interested. I slowed, lifting an eye towards them as they stood beneath the canopy of the butcher's stall.

"The metals," the twitchy man continued. "The ones that went straight to that abandoned church."

In one quick slash, the butcher's blade buried into the wooden board before him, slicing clean through the thick red meat. "What 'bout it?"

The twitchy man scratched his neck. "Rumor has it one of the smugglers is a madman. Er'yone that's seen 'im says he's makin' some kinda beast."

"A beast 'O metal?" The butcher laughed, waving off the man with a slab of meat in his hand. "Yer nutty if you believe that! Now get out me stall! Scarin' away payin' folk with yer twitchin'."

I watched them bicker for a moment longer before the twitching little man scurried away. Gossip and rumors were prevalent on the streets, necessary for anyone with no money to their name. Information was just as valuable as gold, but using such currency often required more than one's word. Proof came in various shapes and sizes. Eyewitness, a crumb of physical evidence, or even mentioning names… People higher up on the social ladder than anyone dwelling here. This system served me well. Though plagued by the constant urge to maim and dismember, my mind held information like a vault.

As I walked the streets, it quickly became apparent the well of gossip revolved around some useless arms dealings. I half listened, filing their names and the vague details away in my head while changing my path. If I wanted more than the current babblings today, I'd need to go to the source.

Baldur's Gate held many rivers that information flowed through. The servants working in the Upper City would flow down from those rich establishments and find whatever little pocket of people they belonged to. Taverns, inns, brothels, all little wells collecting information like buckets. Wells that I found most useful in my hunt for the truth. Past the layers of boring city gossip of who fucked who or who wore what lay the drops I required - the drops that would finally satiate my thirst. It was a simple matter of extracting such.

The Elfsong Tavern was bustling with people and flowing with drinks. It was a gem of the Lower City, though its outward appearance did not reflect anything grand or unique. It had ale and wine and clean rooms, which was enough for most people. The chatter that met my ears was akin to that of insects. I brushed past everyone else and quietly stood beside the bar, waiting for a cleaning to speak with the elf behind it.

The barkeeper and owner of the tavern was a soft-faced half-elf, Alan Alyth. He had dark hair and light in his eyes, still hopeful of his future within this city. Unlike the other patrons, he heard everything and saw all, and he wouldn't waste my time with idle chatter. Alan knew nothing about me, but he knew how much I hated talking.

Our eyes locked as the bodies cleared away from him, and he sighed. "What can I get for you?"

"I heard a rumor about Bhaal worshippers and a ruined temple."

Nodding, the elf wiped up a spill. "Few nights ago, two men came in spouting about it."

I set a single coin down on the bar. "I need the details."

Alan examined me for a second but took the coin and continued to speak, "Dunno much, but they said they believed the entrance to this temple or whatever was somewhere near the docks."

Without a word of thanks, I turned and exited the establishment, my feet moving quickly and my heart pounding steadily in my chest. I longed for this to be the one - for this rumor to lead me somewhere. The docks were even busier than the tavern, with shipments coming in and out, people selling fish right out of the barrels, and captains and crews inspecting their vessels.

I could catch a ride on one of the ships, I thought. It would be easier to sail away from this horrible city and find a secluded place to live the rest of my days alone. Still, the nagging feeling wouldn't go away no matter how far I sailed. I would still always wonder what I was… If I belonged anywhere.

I remained near the docks, listening, watching, and even searching for hidden doors or loose stones that could have contained a clue, a hint even. There was nothing. No talk of Bhaalists or odd symbols. Nothing but the stench of fish and the annoying voices of the sheep. As the sun set, it became increasingly clear that this had been another dead end.

Waste of time, I scowled as I walked the now clear paths of the dark city. It'd been foolish of me to believe that anyone would have anything of substance. Why would idle gossip lead me to some long-lost hidden temple? It was foolish. Hopeful.

My body roared with disappointment and anger. The feeling of it made my skin itch and my limbs ache. Curse that damned hope, I thought as I neared the rooftop where the butler would be waiting. I felt more breathless with each step, a sickening feeling washing over me as the edges of my vision swam with shadows.

Don't fight it, that dark part of me urged. The bellows of nearby fire sparked in my ears, accompanied by the clash of steel. I sucked in a deep breath, halting my steps to try and regain control of my thoughts - of my own hands as they shook. Give in. A tang of ash and a tingling of metal filled my mouth. Give in to yourself. I stumbled, my feet shuffling of their own accord away from the rooftop towards the hazed orange light.

Kill.

My fingers curled around the hilt of my dagger.

Kill.

My body hummed as the heat of the fire washed over my face.

Kill.

My lips curled up in a happy, satisfied smile.

The stone ceiling of the blacksmith's workshop was coated in billows of dark smoke and embers. They danced along the top of it for a moment, sparkling and crackling before being swept up in the midnight breeze and lifted out the tall open windows. My chest heaved with each breath, the air tasting sweet as I drew it deep into my lungs. I felt lightheaded, exhilarated, and satisfied. My mind felt clear for the first time in weeks, and my skull didn't throb.

The sensation of thick, sticky liquid rolling down my neck pulled me from the enjoyment and relief. I lifted my hands to touch it but found them to be wet. All at once, my mind became my own again, and the sweetness of the air suddenly became heavy with blood. My fingernails dug into the skin of my neck as quiet whimpers filled my throat.

"Oh, how inspired!" Sceleritas purred with gleeful claps. "Artistry as always, my dear Master!"

My neck strained as I lowered my eyes to the corpse I straddled. The blacksmith lay lifeless beneath me, utterly unrecognizable. His eyes, filled with playful mirth and pride this morning, were now raw pits of exposed blood and muscle. The dark hair that once filled his head was scorched off, still smoking and singed with embers. One of his arms had been torn off, hanging from his anvil where the hand had been bludgeoned until the bones turned to dust. Long, intricate cuts lined his remaining arm and torso, leading to the gaping hole in his stomach. His insides were strewn about the room, hanging like dripping vines. And there, plunged into one of the many stab wounds in his chest, my dagger gleamed in the firelight.

I wanted to throw up, to scream and deny, but all I could do was sit there and stare. A prideful feeling simmered in my gut, finding beauty in the gore surrounding me. It was wrong… Beyond wrong… It was demented, deranged, sickening. Yet the feeling remained just like it always did. Sceleritas dug my dagger out from the blacksmith's chest and smiled as he held it out to me with a bow. Then, he noticed my grip on my neck and quickly tutted.

He placed my dagger back in my sheath and gently pried my hands from my skin. He dabbed the angry welts left by my fingernails with a small cloth. "I'm a monster…" I whispered.

Sceleritas' claws poked my cheek as he forced me to look at him. "You are perfect, Master." He combed his fingers through my hair, tucking it from my face. "Absolutely, positively perfect."

I closed my eyes, fighting back tears as the surrounding houses awoke, likely coming to see what the noises had been. They'd come, they always did, and they'd find me covered in the blood of an innocent man, a friend even. From there, things would be exactly as they always were. I'd be forced to flee, vanish, and always be apart like the rest of the monsters.

"Come, we must go," Sceleritas whispered, moving to check the streets.

With quivering breaths, I blinked away tears. What was the point of fighting if the urge would win out eventually? What was the point of any of this fucking life? Pushing myself to my feet, I wiped my hands on my shirt, as if it'd help clean them of blood, before turning to follow Sceleritas when a blink of movement caught my eye.

There, standing in the doorway to the home attached to the workshop. His eyes were fixed on the body, the guts that hung from the room, filled with fear and despair at the sight of the larger man's lifelessness. Guilt and disgust warred within me against the satisfied bloodlust and pride. The child's lips quivered as tears began to stream down his cheeks. "Pa…"

Sceleritas' hands gently wound around my arms, tugging me away from the pitiful scene I had orchestrated. "Away, young Master. Come away."

The streets blurred together as I followed Sceleritas' sure-footed steps. I could hear the angry shouts and the calls for justice as the sheep turned to wolves. Tears burned my eyes as I considered stopping and submitting to my fate. I deserved it. I deserved to be torn apart just like I'd torn the blacksmith apart or any of the others before him. I was a monster.

Sceleritas turned then and slid to a halt just beneath an old archway. He scrambled, clawing the debris and dirt away from the small sewer cover. "This way!" He hissed. "We will find safety with the others!"

"With the others?"

"The worshippers of the Lord of Murder, of course!"

"You knew where it was from the start," I bit out, glaring at the creature.

"We haven't the time for this conversation, Master. Quickly! Come!" He screeched, desperately waving me towards the sewer entrance.

The ground shook with the rushing footsteps of the mob, a thundering anger filling the air like lightning. Grinding my teeth together, I slid through the small, dark opening and landed in the muck. The butler followed close behind, closing the opening just as quickly as he'd uncovered it. I could see the shadows of the mob pass overhead.

Sloshing through the putrid liquid, Sceleritas kept moving forward. I glared at him, using my anger to ignore how the smell burnt my nose and threatened to choke the air from my lungs. "Where are we going?"

He turned, teeth glistening in the low light. "You wished to find the temple, did you not?"

I followed him a few feet forward, watching as he flicked his clawed fingers, and an array of resting magic forced the stones ahead to part, revealing the ruins behind it. Sceleritas bowed, gesturing towards the opening. "After you, young Master."

The dark path forward appeared to be part of the city once, blocked off and locked away… Left to crumble and decay. The air hung heavy with a feeling of hopelessness, death whispers filling every crack and corridor. I followed what paths I could, weaving past fallen stone and broken statues. What had it looked like in its prime? I wondered as we passed through one intact doorway.

Stones shifted beneath quick feet, alerting me to the presence of others surrounding me. The darkness had eyes that watched me as I continued to the second door. If whatever creatures took issue with my presence, they didn't make it known. I could feel Sceleritas' excitement. "Friends of yours?"

"Friends of yours, Master," he replied. "Soon to be subjects if all goes to plan."

I turned my head to glance at him, so many questions wanting to rise from my throat, but none of them could. How many years have you led me astray? I wondered. How long was spent pulling at my strings for this plan?

A shallow river of sewage split the large room in two, forcing me down the right-hand path that looked to have been patched up with wood scraps. Whoever it was that had taken up residence here had clearly put work into trying to remain inconspicuous. The twists and turns should have confused me, but my feet felt steady… Like I already knew the way.

As I stepped out into a larger clearing, the stench of sewage faded slightly. Water trickled from cracks above, and the ruins grew more solid. "This was the Undercity," I observed, peering up the old stairs that had long been barricaded off.

Sceleritas stood beside a circular platform, flicking his fingers again and lighting two hanging braziers. "A wretched place." He hummed carefully. "But, like most ruins, it wasn't always such." Waving his hand, I could see a marvel in his eyes. "It was a glorious temple once. A place of the highest caliber! Worshipers would come from near and far to pay homage, and many found a home here."

"What happened?" I asked, a wave of solemn sorrow softening my voice.

Sceleritas shook his head with a bitter sneer on his lips. "Many things. The worshipers of Bhaal have been culled many times throughout the ages."

"Like the Bhaalspawn." I shook my head and looked at the butler with teary eyes. "Is that what I am?"

"You are-"

"Perfect," I interrupted him. "I know, you've said that before. But answer me this, please, Sceleritas?"

With a humble nod, he finally replied. "You are one of the last living Bhaalspawn. The Lord of Murder's flesh and blood."

My teeth ground together. All this time I'd spent searching, looking for answers, and the one person that had been with me from the start had them all along. "Why not tell me this from the start?"

"You were not ready then," he replied with a sigh. "You may still not be ready."

"Well, what happens now?" I asked.

Sceleritas only grinned. "You open the door."

The tall door blended in with the surrounding stone, only really noticeable but the too-perfect cracks where the two sides met, tightly sealed. As I approached, I had an itching feeling that this would not be as simple as my loyal companion made it seem. Pressing on them with my hand, nothing moved, but a voice echoed around us in a soft but powerful whisper.

"Do you have proof of your faith to our lord?"

"Proof?" I questioned with furrowed brows. "How does one present proof of faith?"

Sceleritas cleared his throat and pointed to my still-bloody dagger. "You've all the proof you need, dear Master."

I unsheathed it, grimacing at the sight of the blacksmith's blood. The image of the weeping child filled my mind. I didn't utter a word nor lift the dagger higher than my eyes, but the door saw it as if it had looked through my eyes. "A small thing, but a show of faith nonetheless. Walk in blood."

The door cracked, and the path forward appeared before me, along with a choice. I could turn back and face what I'd done. Or I could continue on this path, wherever it led me, and finally learn the truth. Sceleritas took hold of my hand and squeezed. "The choice is yours, Remora, my dear Master. I can only urge you not to run from what you are." He smiled. "I can only assure you that you are perfect, just as you are."

Bloodshed, death, murder… None of it appealed to me beyond that itch of my darker urges, but I'd killed so many. My hands were forever stained in blood, and nothing, not even facing judgment, would clean them. I'd kill again. I knew it to be true. What choice is there? I asked myself. Nothing will change unless you see this through. "It'd be a waste to turn back now." I smiled down at him and squeezed his hand back. "Besides, what would I do without my most loyal butler?"

We walked hand in hand down the decrepit staircase where the abandoned stone building came into view, nestled overtop a straight drop into nothingness. Sceleritas led me over the bridge of fallen pillars and through a low archway. I held his hand tightly in mine, using his presence as some reassurance to ease the fear and hopelessness rising in my chest. No matter what I found here, Sceleritas would be beside me. He always was.

Bright red lights illuminated as we traversed the winding, bloodstained path. Statues spoke to me, but I couldn't grasp their words beyond the sound of my heart hammering against my ribcage. The bridge stretched across, lit with fire and dark magic. Up a small set of stairs, another door stood closed. Sceleritas released my hand and skipped up the steps, turning to bow before me. "Oh, my Master! Welcome! Welcome to your royal home!"

The doors opened behind him as if on their own accord. Now or never. I ascended the stairs and walked through the doorway with my head held high. From the high ledge, I could see every corner of the room, the lights and the bodies of people gathered, but what I noticed most was the large pool of blood that stood on the opposite side of the room where a skull with bleeding eyes had been carved into the stone.

Bhaal. My father, if Sceleritas had spoken the truth. With another deep breath, I moved past the robed figures and down towards the center of this congregation. As I passed, the cultists whispered praises, words of great joy at my arrival. Sparing Sceleritas a glance, I quickly asked, "They were expecting us?"

"You, Master," he happily replied. "They've been expecting you for quite some time."

"Praised be the Lord of Murder!" One of them softly exclaimed.

An odd feeling of warmth suddenly erased the fear from my body. Never before had I been waited on… Met with soft words of joyous welcomes. They wanted me here. They felt some kind of love for me, and I enjoyed it. "They… like me?”

Sceleritas scoffed. "They adore you, Master!"

At the bottom of the steps, all the cultists bowed their heads. "Welcome home, Bhaalspawn. We have waited a very long time for this day."

"What day?"

The woman, who seemed to be the eldest, chuckled. "For you to ascend and take your place as Bhaals Chosen, of course!" She turned, gesturing to the pool of blood. "Go on, submerge yourself, and all shall be revealed."

By my side, Sceleritas urged me to go forward into the blood. My dark, featherless reflection hovered over the thick liquid. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment where I knew deep inside me that this wasn't what I wanted. Sceleritas' voice was soft as he seemed to answer my deepest fears. "Do not deny what you are, Remora. For it is beautiful, beloved, holy. You are perfect, just as you are."

I took the first step, giving into the deepest desire to be loved and accepted. Maybe this was the only way for something like me to achieve such. Maybe this was always what I was meant for. As the blood enveloped me, I felt warm… Safe… Powerful. Flashes of bodies torn apart and skulls growing from trees filled my vision. "Child of blood, go forth with divine purpose."

When I emerged again, the first thing I heard was Sceleritas clapping. Then, all that stood before me bowed. "All hail Bhaal's Chosen!"

This was my future - my life. All the years I'd spent trying to be anything other were wasted. Thief. Urchin. Whore. Murderer. Assassin. Monster. Demon. All those years of fighting, scraping, bowing, resisting… It had all been futile. This was what I was, who I was. Bhaalspawn.

Bhaal's Chosen.

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narratorinthecloset · 1 year ago

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After patch 5 and seeing the epilogue for the worst ending for Durge I have so many thoughts running through my head.

Spoilers under the cut for the epilogue

Mostly I find it interesting that this is one of the very few times when I don't want my character to go all evil or crazy, this time I want my Durge to redeem themself, to resist the darkness, be free and happy.

Usually, when I see in media that the main character deals with their "dark side" or is being corrupted, I always want them to go into that darkness because I'm not a big fan of "pure good hero" and because they have much better personality and powers in my opinion 😅

But here?

Durge is... An animal, they're feral, they're twitching and growling, covered in blood and dirt, they can't even speak as the narrator says.

When looking at some options it kind of seems like the little part of "good" Durge is still in there, that wants to fight, to protect their friends and lover but they can't, Bhaal is much stronger than them.

In this case, their only way to protect everyone and to free themself is to die.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #durge #dark urge #bg3 durge #Baldur's Gate 3 Patch 5 #Fuck I'm crying #deep thoughts

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bananastarion · 9 months ago

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Random bg3 confessions:

I fucked the Emperor in my first playthrough, back when only 5% of players had done so

Rolan has accidentally died in various ways in all of my playthroughs, I'm determined to keep him alive in my current one but we'll see :/

I let Astarion drain me of all my blood and kill me because it's hot and I get to punch him after

My characters all let Astarion drink their blood every night because it makes me (and Astarion) happy, and most of the time I don't even bother to remove the debuff

I got a rare achievement in my first playthrough by sparing Sazza's life three times

On my good!durge run, I still got the slayer form anyway by completely cheesing the game

I cut off Gale's hand in one playthrough and sent him off to die alone in another, despite him being one of my favorite characters

I cannot fight with Gale to save my life. Idk if it's a wizard problem or a me problem, but in battle he is constantly dying and missing every attack. Instead of playing on tactician mode I just play with him in my party to up the difficulty.

I regularly breakup with Astarion to hear all his dialogue, then quickly reload a save

I can't bring myself to kill any cats in this game, so I turned on nonlethal when fighting the gremishkas

I am not above save scumming if I'm determined to have something epic happen, like I reloaded countless times to get the displacer beast to side with me

I slaughtered all the people in umberlee's temple in my first playthrough since I lost access to their quest thinking that's how I get the wave mother robe- turns out you can't get it that way.

I went through my whole first playthrough having no fucking clue who Wulbren Bongle is because I failed to rescue the gnomes at moonrise (accidentally)

I skipped the entire mountain pass and a big chunk of Lae'zels quest in my first playthrough

In one of my playthroughs I broke my paladin oath to side with Glut and slaughter all the myconoids, apparently too naive to figure out that there was in fact a "wrong side" to pick in this situation (astarion approving should've been a big hint)

I was too dumb to solve the chess puzzle, so I just blasted my way through the whole thing

Likewise, I just googled the answers to the brain puzzle in the oubliette even though it was pretty simple because I'm lazy

Having a naked statue of Astarion in my camp has become tradition

When I first got Astarion's confession scene, I squealed and kicked my feet like a schoolgirl. I'm 30

I started romancing Wyll in my first durge run, knowing full well I was going to pick Astarion again in the end. I felt so bad turning him down

Even tho most of the characters I play are good aligned, that doesn't stop me from greedily robbing every last little thing from every home and establishment I find like the Grinch. By the end of the game I have more gold than I could ever conceivably spend on anything

I'm pretty sure I got Kagha to redeem herself, solved the problem at the grove, but still slaughtered her in the end anyway with no consequences simply because I didn't like her

I have still never ascended Astarion, or given any of the characters their bad ending (except for killing Gale)

#baldur's gate 3 #dumb shit

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idiotexe-bg3 · 1 year ago

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ok ok i just finished and. so good. the happy nerves are transporting plenty of seratonin

spoilers ahead for the dark urge and all of bg3's main and companion storylines

i did a redeemed durge playthrough. denied bhaal, killed gortash, rejected the emperor at the last moment to free orpheus who became illithid to kill the netherbrain, and killed him at his request after the final battle

lae'zel ran off to spread word of orpheus and free her people

gale decided to go find the crown of karsus and become a god

astarion burned in the sunlight

tav said baldurs gate was a shithole and lets go on vacation

then karlach started dying so tav and wyll finally convinced her to return to avernus

in my headcannon astarion will come with them and the crew will live happily ever after in hell, eventually killing zariel (i mean, they killed raphael so it should be possible) -- though im wondering if vampires will be fine in avernus

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #karlach #bg3 karlach #wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #lae'zel #bg3 lae'zel #the dark urge

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vividiana · 28 days ago

Note

Fic authors self rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

hi, thank you so much for thinking of me! 💕

I only have 6 fics posted so far, so this should be pretty straightforward 😅 in no particular order:

the blood on my hands (scares me to death)

my first fic that will always have a special place in my heart. basically I had just completed the personal quest of my redeemed Durge, Eve, and I felt like the finale was missing some emotional closure. I started typing up some dialogue between Eve and Astarion in my notes app and then that evolved into a 20k fic and the first piece of creative writing I've done in years. I wrote most of it over a year ago and it took me until this August to gather up the courage to post it. I do think my writing style has changed a little since then and I've gotten more of a grasp on both Eve and Astarion's voices, but I'm stil l very happy with how it turned out.

2. the light we shut out

my ongoing post-canon longfic where I'm basically just writing a happy ending for Eve and Astarion. it's full of domestic fluff and comfort, very chill, more vibes than plot tbh. sometimes I don't want intrigue and conflict, I just want them to be happy, you know? no mortal peril, just date nights and assembling furniture together.

3. what a wicked thing to do (to make me dream of you)

this is probably my favorite one-shot I've written. it's a re-imagining of Astarion's confession and what led to it, which is just such a turning point in their relationship and one of my favorite moments in the game. it's full of pining and they're both so bad at feelings but they get there eventually! this was also the first time I tried writing from Astarion's POV and I absolutely loved it (see: points 4 and 5).

4. she's an undiscovered element (either born in hell or heaven-sent)

Astarion's POV of the night the Urge tried to get Eve to kill him. this was definitely my favorite moment in my Durge playthrough and it really showed how much of a ride or die Astarion is. so I just wanted to explore this protective side of him a little more.

5. fall into your eyes like a grave

a pre-canon exploration of Astarion's worst memory—the night he met the “darling boy” he couldn’t bear to bring back to Cazador, and the punishment that followed. it was quite hard to write given the subject matter, but it's probably the fic I'm proudest of. I just think that story is so fundamental to Astarion's character and it makes me appreciate the comfort and happiness he eventually finds that much more.

#ask #my fic #self rec #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction #astarion x durge

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frantic-fiction · 1 year ago

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Happy Birthday

(Gif: Alistairs)

Prompt: The gang throwing Spawn Astarion and Redeemed Durge a joint birthday party 😭

Credit to @bauldersgrave69 for letting me use their idea. Hopefully, you like it.

Astarion x F!Reader (Mostly Gender neutral but reader does wear a dress)

Warning: None. No spoilers just durge's memory lost and violent tendencies. This is pretty much pure fluff.

Word Count: 3.1k

It's been almost a year since you found yourself aboard a mindflayer ship, forcibly shoved into an adventure - one with life-changing choices. Choices that left you with a family not bonded through blood and torture, but one of trust, acceptance, and a chance to change something in yourself that you didn't fully comprehend when you woke up in that pod.

And the most important piece of the puzzle is currently walking next to you. As close as appropriate in public, moving away from the waterfront, Astarion would occasionally drop kisses on any exposed skin he could reach. But for the most part, he was content to hold your hand in his, just happy to be with the love of his life.

It was your date night. After the chaos had died down, you and Astarion had established this weekly tradition. Neither of your previous lives before the tadpoles allowed for much personal exploration or relaxation. The dates aimed to help take back both the agencies that had been torn away violently by cruel masters.

It was Astarion's week to choose the activity. He decided to push his boundaries just a bit and go dancing - not the stifling ballroom dances Cazador demanded be performed during various public events. No, Astarion wanted liveliness, drinks, and a wonderful band.

So, he bought a lovely pale yellow sundress from a stall by your apartment and added his personal style, ending with a beautiful garment - swirls and intricate patterns embroidered as accents. Donning himself in a dashing doublet, dark greys, and black accented with a similar shade of yellow.

The blushing mermaid was brilliant, the band jovial with pounding drums, and excellent lute and violin playing. Drinks were shared until heads were fuzzy. It took a bit for Astarion to work up the courage to dance, but he quickly offered his hand. The moment it was offered, your drink was down, and with a flushed face and a smile, you took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor.

The rest of the night was spent spinning and dipping until you were dizzy. You had never really danced, and if you had, that memory was lost and not worth finding. At times, you would stumble into a spin or out of a dip, but Astarion was always there to make sure you stayed on your toes with a firm hold.

When the energy of the night waned down and the band began to play a slower tempo, Astarion didn't hesitate to pull you flush against his body. His coolness was a pleasant contrast to the stuffiness of the mostly crowded tavern.

Astarion bent down to kiss you below your ear, whispering, "I don't think I will ever run out of thank yous."

"For dancing with a handsome man, I can say it was tiring but I'm having fun." The word is still a foreign concept, but one you and Astarion have become incredibly good at together.

"Yes, this night has been the best dancing I've done in years." You card your hand through his curls; his hand trails the curve of your spine. "But my thanks go beyond tonight, with you, my love. I have felt - you see I..."

Words seem not to be able to grasp what Astarion wants to say. So, he simply smiles and captures your lips in a kiss. Not everything needs words to express.

****

"My sweet, I believe we forgot dear Evelyn's oranges."

You had just entered the neighborhood where your house resided. It wasn't anything big; neither you nor Astarion liked the idea of a big space with rooms that would stay empty and cold.

Thankfully, you came across Miss Evelyn, a sweet elderly gnome who owned a multifamily home. Her son had sadly died when the Absolute took Baldur's Gate. His wife and child went back to her parents, leaving Evelyn with a lot more space than she needed.

Astarion and you rented the upper portion of the home. The rent was cheap and you wish to pay more, and when you tried to explain just how much wealth you could spare, Evelyn shut it down immediately. She said that her price was fair and all she needed to make it for herself.

There was no room to argue after that, so you and Astarion took it upon yourselves to help her in any way she would allow - like getting oranges.

"I'll run out early before she wakes. Eve won't even notice."

"If you try to throw me on the chopping block again, I will not be making any cookies for a month."

"You would never!" You gasped, clutching your chest in dramatics.

"Don't tempt me, darling; I can be very stubborn." He said this, holding the gate to the property for you.

"Star, you know how her disappointed look makes me feel," the gravel crunched under your feet, the porch light to the house breaking through the dark.

"Yes, well, you'll just have to hope she made her bedtime." He kissed your cheek smugly and walked ahead, taking the stairs two at a time.

His shoes hit the wood boards of the porch when you heard, "Oh good evening Evelyn dear, I do have to apologize; my love completely forgot to get you oranges. By the time I realized their mistake, the vendor was already gone for the evening."

Handsome fucking asshole. Hands bunched up the skirt as you followed up the steps. He is going to have quite the time having any post-date fun with the way he's playing.

Making it to his side, Evelyn's in her chair, a basket of walnuts beside her. She didn't say anything for a moment, leaving only the crickets. Grabbing a walnut, she placed it on the table and slammed a hammer you did not see, cracking the shell before popping the flesh into her mouth.

"I figured, you two never get the things I want when it's your date night. Whatever, just get them tomorrow; your visitors gave me these walnuts so I'm not too bothered." The words were jumbled between almost toothless gums and walnut bits. A few pieces flew outwards with trails of spittle.

"Visitors?"

"Yeah, that little ragtag group you got. The bald one gave them to me. Told me something about 'Boo' thinking it would be polite since I let them break in and all."

Astarion and you met eyes, confusion reflecting each other's. Why was Minsc here?

"Did you plan something?" You asked.

"No," Astarion quickly turned to Evelyn, " I hope our little friends haven't been too much of a bother. Have a wonderful evening, my dear. Your oranges will be in your fruit bowl come morning."

He grabbed your hand and made for the stairs to your floor. Evelyn simply grumbled "They better be, pointy," before slamming the hammer down again.

You started to pull Astarion faster up the remaining stairs. But as soon as you reached for the door, Astarion halted you with an arm snaking around your middle. His mouth captured yours in a kiss, fast and heavy before you could even speak.

You melted. It's automatic, instinctual. You sigh carding you finger in his hair tugging on the roots. The orange incident quickly forgotten and the heavy annoyances with it. Not even the question of why your friends have broken into your home during date night mattered. His lips were gone too soon.

"I don't know about you, my sweet, but I believe our little weirdos have been very rude to us." He breathed into your ear before giving it a nibble. You nodded slightly, pulling his face to your neck. The he scrapes his fangs against you throat and you gasped

"I think they should have learned by now that I like to keep you to myself at night. And on our lovely date night, where you have been teasing me all night with this garment."

He pressed your back roughly against the door. The hinges whined against the force. You kiss him again, feeling his leg press between your legs. "And how am I to know that I shouldn't be ravishing you right here against this door."

"OKAY, OKAY. WE GET IT, ARESHOLE. DON'T INTERRUPT DATE NIGHT," Gale yelled.

"Maybe the next time we think about doing something nice for you two shits, I'll remember to bring earplugs," Wyll followed.

Astarion stepped you both back fully on your feet. "Maybe this time they will finally learn." Placing one last soft kiss on you cheek, he fully pulled away and moved to open the door.

You couldn't say what you had expected to see walking into your home. But this was not it.

Bright colors of balloons cluttering the floors, strings of paper tossed haphazardly around your living room. Your dining table is scatered with wrapped gifts and a frosted cake.

Each of your companions stood, all staring at Astarion and you, a mixture of disgust, excitement, and boredom (though that was mainly Lae'zel, who stood brooding in the farthest corner with a purple cone on her head). Oddly, they all had pointy hats tied to their heads. Even little Boo.

Scratch, who with all the excitement of seeing all of his friends back at his home, had begun to use his as a chew toy. Minsc pleaded with him to stop and seemed to be having a three-way conversation between the dog, Boo, and himself.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Karlach screamed as if the words had been burning in her mouth for hours. This had each and every one of your companions repeating the same phrase.

The shocked and confused looks Astarion and you shared must be very evident because Wyll was quick to jump in. “You both shared with us not knowing when your birthday was, so we’ve all decided what better time to celebrate than the start of our journey.”

This had Astarion's hand tightening in yours, his posture stiffening. Your heart hammered against your ribs, tears brimming over, trickling down flushed cheeks.

You don’t deserve this. The little voice echoes, the same voice that chokes you at night when you lay crying in Astarion's arms as he helps you calm from a panic attack. These people. This beautiful, caring family you stumbled upon was too good for such a broken, tainted person like you. To even think about this, planning a party with cake and presents simply to celebrate you and Astarion just living another year.

Him you understand; you had already been silently planning something similar for him for months. But it’s Astarion. The man who saved you, the one who reminds you each day that you are loved and safe and no longer the puppet of a cruel god. Yes, Astarion deserves to be celebrated and showered with gifts and affection. But you? The same person whose hands are stained so red with blood you still can’t comprehend the full extent of your depravity. No, you don’t think so.

"Well," Astarion’s voice cracks, and he takes a shaky breath, clearing his voice. "I guess being the center of attention for the night should make up for postponing my plan to bend my beloved over the cou-"

This snaps you out of your self-deprecation. You clamp your hand over his mouth loudly saying, "Thank you guys; this is… well, this is just perfect."

You rip your hand away when you feel the wet glide of Astarion's tongue and the scratch of a fang. "Seriously," you groan, wiping your hand off on his chest before stepping away and walking up to give out your first of many hugs.

****

"You cheated, you fucking bastard!" Astarion points accusingly over the coffee table, glaring at Gale. "I can sense a spell; you're not as clever as you think, wizard!"

You rub his arms, silently telling him to chill but shooting a glare of your own at the man. "Not to mention Karlach is not a very good actor," you say bluntly, causing the tiefling to scoff in offense. "You know I love you, Kar, but you have never been a good liar. Gale, if you won't play by the rules, I won't be responsible if Star gets violent."

Getting up from the couch, you peck Astarion's cheek and collect the pile of dessert plates. Astarion stands to start his turn of charades, beginning to mime out his word as Gale, Wyll, Karlach, and even Lae'zel tries to guess. Though Lae'zel only seemed to guess various ways to harm an enemy.

Minsc has himself in a deep talk with Boo. The two sat close to the bay window where Halsin and Jaheria had found themselves in a game of chess. By the looks of it, Halsin was winning, and Jahiera was none too happy.

Placing the dishes in the sink, you quickly wash the cake crumbs and frosting off. You carelessly toss each on the drying rack, Astarion always hated when you did dishes always complaining of the many chips you keep putting in the ceramics.

Once done, you walked up to Shadowheart where she was dividing the small pile of presents into two.

"Thank you," you said softly, catching the half-elf's attention. It had come to light that Shadowheart had been the one to bring the idea up. "This has been more than I ever expected."

"We're family," was all she said. And you guessed it was all that needed to be. Just a simple act of love for two people in a large, slightly dysfunctional family. You move automatically, practically tackling Shadowheart into a hug.

"This means more to Astarion and me than we'll ever be able to express." The two of you don't mention the hoarseness in your voice. And if Shadowheart felt a few tears drop on her collar, she doesn't say.

She simply hugs you back just as tight. Once you break away, Shadowheart calls for everyone to gather for presents.

It's a novel concept to open gifts while everyone stares on, waiting for expressions of happiness and thanks. It's awkward, and both Astarion and yourself share the feeling of being out in the deep end. But it's kind of fun.

You open boxes to find books and painting supplies (a hobby you picked up after you saved that rather stuck-up painter from the Zhentarim last year.) But the best is a medium-sized portrait of the party together, something you've been begging everyone for months to do. It's beautiful, and you are already thinking of the perfect location to hang it up.

Astarion receives new embroidery supplies, a shiny new dagger, and a small box. It's black velvet, and when he opens the hinged lid, a plain-looking copper band sits in the middle of a makeshift pillow.

Never one to hold his tongue, Astarion cheekily says, "Oh how quaint, look at this darling; doesn't it look just like the magic ring the tiefling boy tricked you with."

You shoulder him, and he laughs. "Actually, it's a bit more magical than that little trinket; we went to a lot of trouble for that thing, so hush," Jahiera scolds.

"Oh then please regale us with the story of this mysterious gift," Astarion smirks.

"They call it the Sunwalker's gift. It's a rare magical artifact that protects a person from light sensitivity," Shadowheart says.

It doesn't process for Astarion right away, but your breath instantly catches. You freeze in shock; how in the hells did they find this? You thought it was just a legend.

"Gale got a lead, and long story short, it's real, it's here. Fangs, you can walk in the sun mate." Karlach smiles bouncing on her feet, her flames flickering a bit brighter in her excitement.

"However, it's not perfect. You can still succumb to some effects of your hypersensitivity. But the ring should allow at least a solid 8 hours of sun exposure." Halsin quickly adds.

Astarion doesn't take his eyes off the ring. His pointer finger smooths over the tarnished band. He swallows dryly, blinking back tears as quick as they come. "This… this" he's lost for words, and no one rushes him. They all know. "Thank you, will you excuse me?"

He's gone before anyone can react. There is no judgment; everyone knows strong emotions are not something Astarion can process anywhere but alone or with just you.

"This is amazing. I'm pissed you didn't let me in on this surprise, but from both Astarion and I, thank you all." You motion for a hug and they all pile in.

Astarion doesn't return, but no one expects him to. The party wraps up quickly after that; everyone says their goodnight and departs into the night. You lock up the house and retreat to the bedroom. He sits by the window, staring out into the silent city. He's shirtless, his pale skin ethereal in the moonlight. The ring dances across his knuckles absentmindedly, his chin in his other hand.

You make your footsteps purposefully loud as you approach the vampire. Your hands snake themselves around him, caressing his smooth skin of the chest. He catches the ring and turns his face to meet your eyes. You push some hair out of his eye. He's been crying.

"Hey handsome," you smiled, kissing his lips. He turns towards you. Pulling you on to his lap and cups you face. There's no rush to the dance of your lips. Just soft brushes and tongue caress. You pull away panting.

"Gods, I'll never get tired of this."

"Good cause I'm quite smitten with you." You grab his hands, taking the ring from his palm. You slide it onto his left ring finger, the magic tightening the metal to fit perfectly. You press a soft kiss to it sliding off. "Now come; I want to cuddle."

He helps rid you of your dress, slipping on one of his shi in replacement. You both slide under the sheet, Astarion pulls you onto his chest, strong arms enclosing you. Your head is tucked under his chin. He presses a kiss to your hairline whispering I love you.

You play with his hand, taking it off and putting it on each finger, watching it shift to fit each one. It was quiet for a while. Both of you are just soaking in each other.

"Our family," Astarion says quietly, his chest rumbling under your ear. You drop his hand and look up. He has a look of pure love. "The term has been one that has only caused me pain for 200 years. To think I would find a new one that could contest 200 years of shit is…pleasant. Something I didn't expect to have again"

You smile brightly, grabbing his face and pressing your lips back onto his. "We really lucked out, didn't we. Now how about we get some sleep, and in the morning, we go get Evelyn's oranges together."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just running his hand down your spine, stopping at the swell of your bum and back up again. He kisses you again. "There is nothing I'd like more."

Feedback is welcome and always makes me smile, hate does not! Have a nice day, cheers!

#astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic

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serendipizzy79 · 2 months ago

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And more Astarion!

One day I will manage to do an evil run and he will ascend, and I will hate myself because just look at his face 😭

I sort of have an evil run on the go but I find even saying no to pixels exhausting. I let Kagha kill Arabella and it nearly broke me.

I have said it before and I'll say it again - please create more happy endings! I'm not the only person who wants more good stuff yet all the new official endings are evil! Some people find it a way to let off steam - I'm not bashing them but I'm not one of them. Please let us find a way to fix Karlach! Please let us give more choice to Wyll! Please let us redeem Gortash if we are playing resist Durge!

Larian, please!

Modders, please!!!

#bg3 screenshots #bg3 spoilers #bg3 durge #resist durge #astarion #duvessa beloved of bhaal #durge x astarion #bg3 mods #larian studios

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magpie-blues · 4 months ago

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Introducing my durge, Adonis aka my latest run

He is a githyanki draconic sorcerer (red dragon) and he matches with Orin.

For this run I did romance Astarion, but realistically he for real can romance anyone. Here are some dialogue and information if he were an NPC in your group! And some dynamics he has depending on who he romances within the group. I apologize if I excluded some alternate endings for characters, I’m writing all this impulsively but I will defiantly come back and add more when I can.

—

Dislike:

“…”

“What?”

“Chk..”

“Piss off.”

Neutral:

“Hm?”

“What?”

“What is it now?”

“Not dead? Hm… impressive,”

Good:

“What do you need?”

“You are well, I assume?”

“Have you slept? You look dead,”

“What shall it be?”

Very good:

“Good fortune, my ally,”

“Yes, friend?”

“I’m ready to help,”

“It’s good to see you well,”

Romance (Redeemed Durge)

“My gold. It’s good to see you…”

“Yes, my lover?”

“Have you eaten? Do be careful, love,”

“Half of my soul…” *insert gazing longingly*

Romance (Bhaal’s Chosen):

“Yes? Speak, lover,”

“Don’t mumble, talk to me, sweetheart…”

“You look delicious, my sweet,”

Dialogue specific to each character romance:

Shadowheart (Selunite)-

“My moon,”

“As long as you are happy and well, I am content. You’re the only goddess I’ll ever worship,”

“You’re in pain… is it that damnable lady of the dark? I don’t care if it’s impossible, I’ll find a way to kill a god,”

Shadowheart (Shar)-

“If the dark is where you stay, then I’ll never see the sun again…”

“You have become a formidable woman.. I pity those that get in your way,”

“I’d rather choose Shar than my damnable father… take me with you, I beg. I will be her faithful servant at your command, my dear. Just say it and I will do it-“

Lae’zel (If Lae’zel chooses to continue to be loyal to Vlaakith, Adonis’s romance will end, since he does not follow her or anyone. But he will have some dialogue when you try to talk to him):

“How does it feel? Being a puppet to a false god?”

“Please, Lae’zel, rethink your choice- oaths are just words, can’t you see she’s a liar?!”

“Then kill me. Kill me for her. Kill me knowing I wouldn’t kill you for my father even if he tried forcing me. Kill me and tell her you’re victorious and when she rids of you, think of me and wish I was there..”

Lae’zel (Rejects Vlaakith/Support Orpheus):

“You are stronger than you were before… I hope you’re proud of yourself for how far you have come. I know I am,”

“Hah- you could be suffocating me and I’d thank you. I will always wait for you… I’ll wait centuries more if you asked,”

“I’ve been fighting all my life… for centuries under false immortality I did not want… I hope you understand why I can’t join you… but I will wait… and you’ll forever have my heart. Go- save our people.”

Karlach:

“As in…. You’ll be gone… forever? …. No, no I won’t let it happen- she won’t take you!”

“Damn the gods, damn the hells, damn it all! You don’t deserve any of this! There has to be a way, we’ll find one, together-“

“Don’t let her stomp out your flame… please… I cannot loose you- I’m only alive because of you… I love you,”

Wyll (Grand Duke):

“I’m not usually fond of politics and such… rankings- but if it’s you… Hail Grand Duke Wyll Ravengard!”

“Yes, Grand Duke~ at your service, my love,”

“You don’t own your father anything… and I still strongly believe that… but… if you wish to stick by him and make amends, that is your choice- but I will not forgive him for what he has done to my love,”

Astarion (Ascended)

“I love you, I do… but you are asking me to trade myself from one master to another- for you to ask me this… I cannot let myself be chained again…”

“You have become what you’ve hated. You’ve lost yourself… until you can see that, I am no longer yours…” (automatic breakup/loss of romance)

This is true even if you let Adonis become Bhaal’s chosen.

Astarion (spawn):

“You inspire me… everytime… if only I could be as brave as you,”

“You’ve lost the ability to walk in the sun, but not for long. I’ve heard stories of a SunWalkers ring not too far from the city- let me retrieve it for you… or perhaps… we’ll both explore the world we were deprived of. Let me show you what you’ve been kept from all those years,”

“My sun and stars… what can I do for you?”

Gale (Rejecting godhood):

“All that power… and you truly didn’t choose it? I… I’m… I am in love with you- truly… you stupid, stupid man,”

“Mystra can kiss my ass. You’re perfect.”

“I am no god, though I am a spawn of one. Don’t treat me like one, treat me as your lover… not your god…”

///

Centuries ago, Adonis was sculpted from Bhaal’s rotting flesh and sent away with the intention to be Bhaal’s chosen and perfect son. Adonis does not remember much from is time in a creché, but he has been told they found him in infancy, just hatched, in the nest of a red dragon, who fiercely protected him. He doesn’t believe the story, but those memories have been fogged.

What he does remember he being Bhaal’s chosen all his life. Being taken when he was mature enough by the cult of Bhaal on his command to make them immortalize his son and preform a dangerous and harmful ritual to do so for their new leader who will lead them for years to come.

Adonis was cursed and tortured for the pleasure of Bhaal before he rose after being given the gift of immortality and the ability to not die and can only be killed. For Bhaal, if he could die, then he wasn’t worthy to lead the cult anymore and made it Adonis’s goal to destroy all his enemies and never fall to death.

For years, Bhaal controlled him to do senseless killing and rites, rarely he was given his own right mind or free will until one day, he met an elven woman bard whom he fell in love with. However, she didn’t entirely reciprocate, but he did not hold it against her and stayed her friend and loved her from afar. She appreciated his companionship and made many songs dedicated to their adventures together that are still famous and popular even after her senseless death…

Bhaal, upon seeing this, forced Adonis to murder the woman… the memory was so long ago he can’t even remember her name- but the trauma and his regret of that time haunts him enough that even after he was lobotomized by Orin, he couldn’t forget her face.

There is an ability to restore most of his clouded memories in a similar way you can with Shadowheart, to which he remembers that she called herself Rose, a not very traditional elven name but one she cherished and choose for herself. That was the first time he fell in love and after that, he never felt that way again… until now.

Adonis is part of the asexual spectrum. He doesn’t like mindless sex simply for pleasure. He isn’t fond of it being used to manipulate nor does he really enjoy it leisurely. He prefers if it means something but doesn’t indulge often. He is very straightforward when he says no. If you bring him to Sharess’s Caress, he will verbally express his discomfort if you ask him to do any acts of intimacy, especially with others.

In that way, he doesn’t have many romance scenes that are explicit. A few times he may flirt if he is comfortable and there is once I believe he would want to and if the feeling is mutual, you would get a romance scene. Most likely if he is redeemed and near the end of Act 3.

Anyway I only use mods to use the different hair styles and I hate the mods that change githyanki’s noses or makes them literally just look like elves if you are that person get away from me.

Anyways if you have a tav or a durge with extensive lore tag me and let me see and rant about them to me I wanna SEE!

Petition to take all of our durges and tavs and put them all on an adventure in one big party together so they can talk and comfort each other.

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pessimisticromantic · 8 months ago

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Cold Body, Warm Blood Ch. 2

Words: 5.1k M/M Astarion x Redeemed Durge - 18+

Tags: Drama & Romance Slow Burn Past Abuse Past Sexual Abuse Past Torture Past Violence Blood and Violence Hurt/ComfortAngst and Hurt/Comfort Falling In Love Nightmares Blood Drinking Blood Kink Read on AO3 (recommended) Chapter 2 of ? (WIP)

Chapter 1: Blood Like Wine (Read on AO3)

Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my mind

A few spoilers for Act 1 & 2

Chapter 2: The Sky Above

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Tav watched as the campsite he had called home for weeks now was bustling with rowdy happy tieflings celebrating their survival from not only the goblins but the druids as well. He noticed Halsin had joined them and was glad to see an attempt at an olive branch from the druids, considering their treatment of the refugees when things started getting hard, was tentatively accepted by the tieflings. It was nice seeing everyone letting loose after all the stress that had been piled on top of them. It didn't hurt that liquor was flowing freely.

Tav himself held a mug of ale, though he had only sipped on it so far. He wandered the camp, listening to the banter, songs, and general high spirits from not only the tieflings but his companions.

Gale had attempted to show Tav how to manipulate the weave earlier, but it went about as well as one would expect from a barbarian, which caused a good bit of laughter from everyone around to witness it.

Afterward, he realized that Wyll was missing from his usual spot near his tent, so Tav set out to find the adventurous Blade of Frontiers. He found the man down by the river, talking with Karlach. It looked to be a serious and intimate conversation. Wyll was looking rather deflated of his usual bravado and Karlach looked like she desperately wanted to console him, but wasn't sure how verbally and physically couldn't.

Tav watched as Karlach reached for Wyll, but stopped just an inch short of touching him. Wyll glanced down at her hand and mumbled something and Karlach's face lit up as he took her hand, just for a moment, before releasing it. Tav smiled and moved on, leaving the two to work through what was eating at the warlock. Tav suspected it was the sudden visual change in Wyll's appearance that was causing the issue. Thankfully, Karlach was incredible at making others feel seen and heard, even though her continued existence was the reason for Wyll's change at Mizora's hand.

Tav slowly made his way to Astarion's tent and saw the pale elf sitting on his stool looking quite miserable. Giving the elf's shoulder a nudge as he passed from behind him to settle himself down on a pillow in front of Astarion, "Why the long face?"

A smile flashed on Astarion's face as he replied, gesturing with the wine bottle in his hand, "I never pictured myself a hero." He took a swig of his wine, grimaced, and said, "I hate it. This is awful."

"Yeah the vintage they brought isn't the best," Tav joked taking a sip of his ale, "At least the ale is decent."

Astarion glared at him, but it was soon cracked by a smirk, "It tastes like vinegar."

Tav set down his mug and grabbed the bottle from Astarion's hand and took a long drink. It was a cheaper red, but it would still work to get a person drunk at least. Wiping his mouth he handed the bottle back and Astarion's eyes flickered to the mouth of the bottle and back to Tav. "Not the worst thing I've tasted. Though with your standards, yeah, it'd be pretty disgusting," Tav said giving Astarion an apologetic look.

Astarion took another sip of the wine and said poutily, "I just wanted a little fun. It'll be quite hard to do with…this," and he gestured to his bottle.

Tav laughed, picking up his ale again, and bumped it against the wine bottle, "I'll toast to that!" He took another long pull from his ale, draining half of it easily.

Astarion's eyebrows shot up in surprise which he quickly schooled into a seductive look, "You know, we could always have our own fun, darling."

"Hmmm, I have something in mind we could do," Tav said a lazy smile spread on his face.

"Oh? What do you have in mind," Astarion asked as he leaned forward on his seat.

"Meet me later on by the ruined building that's nearby and I'll show you," Tav said with a wink. He stood and walked away and the entire time he could feel the vampire spawn's eyes on him.

Tav made a few more rounds of the camp, making sure his companions were behaving or enjoying themselves depending on the companion, and seeing that the tieflings were enjoying their celebrations. Once the revelry had calmed to a low murmur against the quiet of the night, he made his way to the ruins nearby, a bottle of a finer vintage red in his hands. Approaching in the bright moonlight he saw the pale ghost-like form of Astarion leaning against the side of the stone wall.

"There you are. I wasn't entirely sure you were going to show," he said impatiently, running a hand through his silver hair.

"Stand you up? Never! Now, follow me, we'll have to cross the river," Tav said holding out his hand to the pale elf.

Astarion made a face, "Ugh, I don't feel like getting my shoes wet, can't we find somewhere else to cross?"

"Nope, that would take entirely too long! Here," Tav said and handed the bottle to Astarion, who glanced down at the label and made an appreciative noise. Tav turned and knelt offering his back to the rogue, "I'll carry you across."

"What?" Astarion said shocked.

"I'll carry you so your shoes don't get wet," Tav said plainly, looking back at him. "Come on, it's a beautiful night and I want to show you something."

Astarion huffed in annoyance but stooped to put his arms around Tav's neck, one hand holding tight to the wine bottle, the other clasped the wrist of his occupied hand. Tav stood and as Astarion's legs wrapped around his waist, he positioned his arms and hands to support the other man's legs.

He couldn't help the wide grin that cracked his face nor the flutter in his chest at the feeling of the elf against his back and idly wondered if Astarion could feel it as he started forward. If so the elf didn't make mention of it.

As Tav made his careful trek through the shallowest portion of the river nearby, Astarion grumbled that this was 'quite ridiculous' and that Tav 'better not fall'. Tav just chuckled at the vampire spawn, as he splashed through the calf-high water. It was cold but Tav didn't mind, he ran hot most of the time anyway.

Once he made it to the other side of the river he paused on the riverbank but made no move to set Astarion down and the pale elf said, "You can set me down now."

"I could, but if you'll allow it, I'd like to carry you to our destination," Tav said a slight blush rising to his cheeks. After a moment when Astarion didn't say anything he bowed his head and mumbled, "It's nice, carrying you like this…"

He heard Astarion's soft snort, but the elf settled back against Tav's back and rested his head on the larger man's shoulder, "Well, we don't have all night."

Tav's smile reappeared as he readjusted his arms and then started his journey into the forest and up toward the large outcrop above their camp. He chatted amicably with Astarion as they went; about their companions, and the next steps on their journey. By the time they made it to the top, where the waterfall was, he had a light sheen of sweat on his body and his muscles burned pleasantly from the effort. Astarion was cool against his back, for which Tav was grateful.

He carefully knelt again, and Astarion slipped off his back, looking around the clearing they stood in. They were right next to the waterfall that fed the river that lazily wound its way past their camp as well as a rocky shelf that looked over the campsite below.

Tav watched as Astarion walked to the edge and peered down into the darkness at the now quiet camp. "I figured since we've been traveling together, you probably haven't had a chance to see the sunrise. So we can share that bottle of wine, do some star viewing, and catch a beautiful sunrise in a few hours."

Astarion turned back to Tav, his face a mix of confusion and uncertainty, "This isn't quite what I had in mind when I said I wanted some fun."

"I know, but I don't think either of us is ready for the kind of fun you were suggesting, Astarion," Tav said gently as he walked up and took the bottle out of Astarion's hands. Tav stepped past him and sat down on the lip of the overlook. He looked up at Astarion and smiled as the elf sat next to him.

"Now then! Let's crack this open," Tav said enthusiastically and peeled the wax off the mouth of the bottle before he pulled on the cork stopper, releasing the wine from its prison of glass. Tossing the wax and cork into the woods, he handed the bottle to Astarion first.

Astarion wore an unreadable expression but took a long pull of the wine eagerly and let out a satisfied sigh afterward. "That is much improved to the swill down there," he said before handing the bottle back to Tav.

Tav downed a couple of mouthfuls before he nodded in agreement.

Astarion looked out and couldn't help but enjoy the view. The moon was full, bathing the world in silvers and greys, and the night sky looked like someone had spilled glitter all over a black velvet sheet. It was more stars than he was used to seeing in Baldur's Gate and he wondered if the amount of light sources the city sported, was the reasoning behind it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tav lean back on one of his hands, cradling the wine bottle in the other, and it looked like he was enjoying himself. Good.

Tav watched as Astarion leaned forward again to look below at the waterfall and a sudden urge boiled up, smashing past his defenses. He imagined pushing Astarion off of the ledge with one swift kick. Imagined watching his body fall, screaming until the sickening thud and sudden silence. Pleasure washed through him at the visions. No! NO! He wouldn't give in to these twisted fantasies. He liked Astarion more than he probably should, all things considered. Tav screwed his eyes shut and felt a spasm go through him and suddenly pain blossomed in his hand. He opened his eyes and realized he'd grasped the bottle hard enough to break the neck of it. Wine, glass, and blood mixed as it poured over his hand. "Fuck," he said simply. Better the bottle than Astarion's neck he thought as he moved the bottle to the side and took a look at his hand.

Astarion turned and grabbed Tav's wrist firmly, "Hells. Must barbarians break everything," he mumbled and began picking the glass out of Tav's wounds. "Why is it I'm always the one patching you up?"

Tav grimaced but couldn't help a chuckle at Astarion's displeasure, as he made up a lame excuse, "Sorry, I got distracted. I forget my strength sometimes."

Astarion just grunted in reply as he finished pulling out the last shard. Then Tav watched as the vampire spawn lifted his injured hand to his mouth and pressed the wounds to his mouth. Tav hissed in pain but didn't pull away. Astarion took his time, his tongue cleaning the blood and wine mixture coating Tav's hand. Tav swallowed hard as he watched the pale elf. The moonlight bathed his pale skin in an almost ethereal glow. Completely different urges welled up in him as he spoke, "Thank you."

After a few heartbeats, Astarion sat back a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "No point wasting either the wine or the blood." Tav looked back down at his hand and realized almost all of the wounds were staunched, whatever Astarion had done with his tongue was enough to slow the bleeding of all but the deepest cut. "We'll need to stitch that last one, sadly. I can only do so much," Astarion said releasing Tav's wrist, picking up the broken wine bottle, and peering in.

"Hm, not much left," he said disappointed, and cast the broken bottle out over the ledge. They heard the faint sound of shattering glass and Tav flexed his hand gently, careful to not aggravate the cuts as Astarion laid back to stare at the stars.

After a few moments, Tav joined the pale elf in his stargazing and a comfortable silence formed between them.

"What's your favorite star or constellation," Astarion asked softly as he turned his head to look at Tav.

Tav hummed thoughtfully before a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He met Astarion's gaze and replied honestly, "You."

Astarion snored and looked away, but even in the dim light of the moon, Tav could see the delicate blush on the tips of Astarion's ears. The elf shot out a half-hearted insult, "You're insufferable."

Tav rolled to his side and reached out to turn Astarion's face back to his, "You are a magnificent sight to behold when you blush."

Astarion stared at Tav, his eyes dropping to the half-elf's lips. He propped himself up on his elbow as his lips met Tav's.

Tav melted into the kiss, his hand sliding from Astarion's jaw to the nape of his neck. Astarion could feel the painful roil of emotions stir in his stomach but he smashed it down ruthlessly. He didn't have the luxury of letting Tav's whims control his fate, regardless of his feelings on the matter.

Astarion pushed against Tav's chest, pushing the larger man's back to the ground, and smoothly slid around his waist.

"W-wait 'Star I don't-" Tav started but Astarion cut him off with another kiss as he bucked his hips against Tav's own. Tav groaned against his mouth and his fingers dug into Astarion's hips, pulling the pale elf off of him, with an incredible amount of strength.

Tav shifted away breathing heavily, "Astarion you have to stop doing this. I can't keep taking the whiplash that you've been giving me. You say you need time one moment and the next you're flinging yourself at me, and I just…I don't understand."

Astarion collected himself as Tav frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. Schooling his face into a carefully seductive look Astarion barreled ahead through the fear that was thrumming through his nerves, "What if I said I love you?"

Tav flinched and looked away, "More honied words, after everything we've been through and overcome, would you just be honest with me?"

Astarion's face twisted into scorn as he spits out, "You want honesty? Fine, I'll give you honesty-" and stood pacing away from Tav, rage rolling off of him like Tav had never seen before. Astarion whirled back to the surprised half-elf his face a mask of twisted pain and hatred, "I spent 200 years luring back pretty little things to Cazador with my body. It's all I've known for so fucking long. Whatever I wanted, however I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. Cazador never gave me a choice. I've lived in fear for so long, that I don't know how to stop thinking and behaving like I'm still Cazador's slave."

Tav stood slowly, careful to not startle the enraged rogue in front of him, as he spoke, his voice low and soothing, "You're not a thing to be discarded after being used up, Astarion. Not with me nor anyone else at our camp thinks that. You don't have to keep pretending or putting yourself into these kinds of situations."

Astarion stared at him, tears threatening to fall as they gathered onto his dark lashes. He was shaking and it felt like a rock had been lodged in his throat, as Tav spoke again, "You are worth a great deal to me, 'Star. These feelings aren't contingent on us having sex. I just want to be with you, and if you honestly need it, I can take a step back from this and we will just be friends." Tav stepped closer, slowly reaching out towards Astarion's hand but not taking it, "I promise you, I only want you to be happy. What do you want to do?"

Tears slipped down Astarion's cheeks as his jaw muscles jumped, catching the light of the moon, before he finally spoke, "I…don't know. It's been so…long since I've had to decide what I wanted." Looking down he took Tav's offered hand and stared at their hands. He said softly almost like he was realizing it for himself in that moment, "But I do know…that this is nice." His eyes were dark and wet when he looked back up into Tav's eyes, but the shy smile he gave Tav was like watching the sun cutting through the fog on a dark day. Tav knew he would be chasing that look in Astarion's eyes for the rest of his life, for as long as he possibly could.

Tav gave him a gentle smile and a soft squeeze of his hand, "Then we will go slow, and figure this out together."

The sunrise was one of the most beautiful either man had seen in a long time.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

It had been an exhausting few days for the group. Lae-zel insisted that they make the trek to Crèche Y'llek to seek a cure for their tadpoles before they head into the Underdark. It had gone from bad to worse; the path to the crèche had been littered with dangerous encounters, and the crèche itself had been incredibly perilous. From the zaith'isk being a death trap to Inquisitor Ch'r'ai W'wargaz's betrayal, Tav and his group had barely made it out of the crèche alive. Lae-zel had been distraught the entire time back to their camp and Tav was at a loss of words to help steady the powerful warrior, who was now adrift in a sea of confusion and doubt.

Tomorrow they would set off to the Underdark, to attempt to find more clues as to the weapon called the Nightsong. Tav was honestly excited to see more of the Underdark, though many in his party were apprehensive. Most of them had never delved into the Underdark before and it would be treacherous to navigate. Astarion and Karlach were the biggest dissenters, but Tav knew it was because they both had an aversion to being without the sun once more.

Tav groaned and hissed as he sank his bruised and battered body into the cool and tranquil pond about a half mile from the campsite. It was chilly, but Tav knew the cold would be good for his weary muscles. He slowly sank further until the water was up to his chin, giving his body time to adjust to the temperature. Once it was comfortable, he took a deep breath, dipped below the surface, and swam under the water until his lungs ached. He burst out of the cool waters, shaking the water from his face and hair as he sucked in lungfuls of air.

"You remind me of Scratch when it rains shaking off like that," an unmistakable voice said.

Tav yelped and turned startled, "Shit! Astarion, you've got to stop sneaking up on me like this."

Astarion's giggle was infectious as he gasped out between laughs, "How am I supposed to announce myself to you if you're under the water? Stick my face in there and start yelling? Oh, I know I'll throw a few daggers next time to let you know I'm nearby."

Tav blushed and turned his back on the pale elf who was lounging on the large rocks on the shore of the pond. "Would you be so kind as to throw my soap over here," Tav said attempting to cover his embarrassment with a gruff tone.

"Hmmm," Astarion hummed thoughtfully, "I've never been called a kind man before, but I believe for you, I can stoop to such a low description." Tav heard a plop as his soap landed in the water next to his elbow. Thankfully the soap was in a net bag with a large cork to hold it afloat.

"Thank you," Tav replied and began washing himself in the waist-high water. He focused on scrubbing as much of the blood, sweat, and dirt as he could from his body, determined to not think about the elf that was probably watching the display. He dunked himself one more time to rinse the last dregs of soap from his hair and body. He felt markedly better from the cool waters and the pleasant fragrance of his soap. He turned back to Astarion who was reclining on the rocks, his back to Tav, looking akin to a languidly lounging cat in a sunbeam, even though the sun was already hiding behind the trees.

Tav made his way back to the shore, found his towel next to his pack, and quickly dried himself off before slipping into his relaxing camp clothes. "All yours now," Tav said simply at Astarion.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I probably should.." he replied turning to watch Tav as the half-elf dried his hair, "You can stay if you'd like. I may need someone to wash my back for me," he said, his voice and face flirtatious.

"I think you'll manage without my help," Tav scoffed and settled his towel around his neck.

Astarion gasped dramatically like the words wounded him, "Darling, I'm hurt! Though you're right, I wouldn't mind your company, regardless. You can stay here and keep an eye out for anything dangerous, while I'm vulnerable in the water!"

Tav snorted a laugh shaking his head, "Fine." He took a cross-legged seat next to Astarion and faced away from the water. Astarion stood but before he moved away he pressed a quick kiss to the top of Tav's head then left to undress. Tav could hear the elf's sharp exhale at the cold water and the rapid expletives that flew out of his mouth the entire time.

"How in the blazes did you stand this water? It's freezing! Usually, I'm quite impervious to the cold, but this is on another level. Hells! Damn you for not telling me it was this cold. I wouldn't have gotten in if that was the case! My balls have certainly shriveled to raisins at this point, fucking hells!"

Tav snickered to himself and plucked a few thin strands of reed from the edge of the grasses next to the rock he sat on and began to deftly weave them. He wasn't sure why he knew how to weave but he found that it gave him something to do with his hands during moments like this.

By the time Astarion was returning to shore Tav had woven a crown of reeds. He kept his back to the elf as Astarion spoke, "There's something I was hoping you could help me with?"

Tav turned and saw that Astarion had dressed but stood there without his usual white shirt. His silver curls were turned into a dark grey from the water and a few of them still stuck to his neck, small drops of water sliding down the elf's pale chest and neck. Tav swallowed and forcefully made himself focus on Astarion's face and words.

"I need…Well, what I was wondering is…if maybe - perhaps - you might take a look at my back," Astarion said frustration clear in his voice as he shrugged helplessly.

"Oh, did you get injured earlier?" Tav stood worry creasing his brow.

"No, not earlier…just…here," Astarion stammered then turned his back to Tav. His shoulders were stiff and the tension in his body was apparent, but what caught Tav off guard the most was the viciously carved sigil on Astarion's back. He had no idea that this had been lurking on the pale elf's back this entire time. Tav's stomach twisted and he felt white hot anger searing through his stomach.

"What, the hells, Astarion. Did Cazador do this to you?!" Tav said through gritted teeth, his voice shaking from the rage. His jaw ached from the effort of keeping the red from filling his vision.

Astarion sighed and looked back at Tav and was taken aback by the half-elf's grim expression, "Ah! Yes…he…it was a…gift from him. A poem. Something he gave to all of his vampire spawn. He carved it in a single night and made many…many revisions as he went."

Tav forced the boiling rage to a simmer inside of him though he still had trouble getting his voice under control, "I see. Do you…do you know what it says?"

"Sadly, I've yet to find a mirror that works for vampire spawn," Astarion said the smirk not quite reaching his eyes.

"Then…let me be your mirror," Tav said as he stepped closer to Astarion and turned the elf again to focus on the jagged runes as he let his mind brush against Astarion's own.

Astarion let him in and their minds entwined as Tav showed him the scars. Astarion gasped softly and mumbled, "What in the Hells…what did he do to me?"

Tav said, "Perhaps we could ask the others? They could know something more or even point us in the right direction to translating this…poem."

Astarion shifted and half turned back to Tav, his mind closing off from Tav's as he spoke, "No! No, let's keep this between us for now. I…I want to absorb this a bit longer before we drag anyone else into this." He turned to look out at the tranquil water of the pond, his voice soft, "For two centuries I carried this, this wretched thing. Now I've finally seen what he did to me."

"When you're ready, we can see what the others think, and if they don't have any ideas, we'll keep on searching," Tav said determinedly.

Astarion looked back at him, the ghost of sorrow hovering around the corners of his eyes and mouth, "Thank you, by the way. I…I'm not used to showing others my weaknesses."

Tav simply nodded and turned to pick up the woven reed crown from where he had been sitting. "Here. I don't know how my fingers knew how to do this but, well, I think it would look dashing on you," he said lamely giving a crooked smile to Astarion as the elf pulled on his shirt.

After adjusting his collar Astarion took the crown, giving it an appraising look, "This was well done." He delicately placed it on his head and gave Tav a playful pose.

Warmth bloomed in Tav's chest as he looked fondly at Astarion in the rapidly darkening woods. He felt his mind slip into Astarion's again and he gasped in sync with the pale elf.

"Sorry, I didn't-"

"That's what I look like?!"

They stared at each other with wide eyes. "Y-yes…to me…anyways," Tav stammered, feeling that warmth in his chest rising to his cheeks. He kept his eyes on Astarion as their minds mingled together. He kept a tight hold of his feelings, scared that if he let those bleed through the link, he would scare the pale elf away. Being delicate wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he worked hard to always do so around the vampire spawn.

A soft oh escaped Astarion's lips as he stepped closer, the fascination on his face was almost child-like. Tav focused on Astarion's face, slowly roving the elf's face and he knew Astarion could see it all. He hoped the elf liked what he saw because Tav did and he let that feeling escape through his chokehold on his emotions.

The link faded gently and their minds were once again their own. "Well then, at least these tadpoles are occasionally useful," Astarion said ruefully after clearing his throat.

"Sorry again, I was just…thinking of how much I enjoy your company and I guess the tadpole picked up on that," Tav said apologetically as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

Astarion shrugged and looked away from Tav's eyes, "I didn't mind."

"Any time you want to look at yourself, just let me know," Tav said seriously as he picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder, "We should head back however, Gale doesn't like it when I'm late to dinner."

Astarion sneered as he gathered his pack, "I don't know how you can eat what that wizard cooks up for us. Good thing I don't have to eat."

"Oh come now, Gale's a surprisingly good chef. It's honestly a testament to how good he is because sometimes we have shit all for ingredients and he always manages to make a decent meal out of it," Tav said, nudging his shoulder into Astarion's as they walked side by side back towards the camp, "You really should try it sometime, you might be pleasantly surprised."

"I might be convinced to have a taste; however, I'll need something a bit more filling afterward," Astarion said slyly, looking at Tav out of the corner of his eye, a smirk slowly curling the corners of his lips.

Tav hummed noncommittally as he pointedly didn't meet Astarion's eyes, looking everywhere but at the pouting elf. He couldn't help the smile that spread on his face as he responded and linked his pinky with Astarion's as they walked, "I wouldn't dare to deny you that, love."

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Read on AO3 (recommended)

Chapter 3: The Earth Below

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x durge #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 durge #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #spawn astarion #durgestarion #durge oc #redeemed durge #m/m #m/m romance #m/m fiction #slow burn #angst with a happy ending

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