#the banter between her shadowheart and astarion would be good i feel it

[tvrningout]

btw the more i think about it, the more the idea of chiyo being one of the druids from the grove appeals to me. not just bc of the potential dynamics in that community, but also bc she's obviously gonna be so invested in those people -- the druids and the tieflings -- so the decision to move on with the companions to figure out the tadpole situation would be a hard one. and i love putting my oc's through hard things : )

[frantic-fiction]

Secluded Evening 18+

(GIF: leopardmuffinxo)

Astarion x F!Reader, Astarion x Tav

Warnings: 18+ MDNI pretty much pure smut, fluff, nipple piercings, nipple play. Skinning dipping, unprotected sex, Late Act 1 Astarion

Summary: Astarion catches reader during a midnight swim. Playful flirting becomes physical. Basically, my take on reader and Astarion's first time in act 1. There is way more implication of Astarion's real attraction for reader, not just a manipulation tactic.

Word Count: 2.8k

The shadow curse land is just a few days west, and a sickly feeling has crept through the camp. The party is on edge, fighting a constant headache as you attempt to mediate the tension in a group of solid personalities during highly stressful events. Shadowheart and Lae’zel are at each other’s throats, bickering and pulling daggers when either sends a quip in the other's direction. Karlach is still burning hot despite her upgrade, and with Dammon already far along the path, all you can do is promise to get her to Baldur’s Gate as quickly as you can. Wyll is fine, but he’s Wyll, so that’s not surprising.

Gale, however, might be the one pushing your buttons the most, or at least he is testing your patience past your limit now. “Tav, I don’t believe I have to express again how important it is to acquire a magical artifact soon.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, and you get the sudden urge to whack him over the head with the book you held unread in your hands. “I will be glad not to have to feel my chest be ripped in two, but I will repeat: if I do not consume an artifact, I will die and level the general vicinity with me.”

You push off the log, slamming the novel down. Level-headedness has been one of your strong suits. It’s the main reason you found yourself leading these misfits across the kingdom. You can keep your cool under the most extreme sources of stress, but everyone is just annoying you today.

“Look, I get it. You need a shoe to chew on, or you’ll go boom. But guess what? I have given you every spare artifact I have to give. Our coins are down to silver and copper. So unless you are willing to chomp down on the stupid circlet you just ‘had to get,’ then you can suck it up and wait until we reach another town.” By the end, you’re yelling, and Gale looks like a kicked puppy. The rest of the camp has turned to look at your outburst. You burn with regret for everything immediately.

You reach out a tentative hand, “Gale, I didn’t—”

“No, you are absolutely right. Apologies for my inconvenience. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night, Tav.” He quickly returns to his tent and pins the flaps close.

Sighing, you rub your hands down your face. You feel terrible; Gale’s condition is excruciating, and you hate to be unable to get him something to alleviate the pain, but your supplies are down to the bone. “Fuck,” you breathe, picking the book back up and storing it away.

“I must say, my sweet, I could get used to this more dominating personality of yours. It certainly gets me excited.” Astarion practically purrs in your ear. You turn face to face and stumble back slightly at his proximity.

Brushing your hair behind your ears, you avoid his eye contact. A warmth spreads across your face. “Oh, I'm sure,” you smirked, clearing your throat and recovering quickly.

It was a game between you two, ignited on the beach with a knife to your throat. Harmless flirts, playful banter with no attention to go further. Attraction is thick, but neither dares to press in this dance.

He crowds into your space. His nose practically tickles yours. He plays with your hair, fingers tangling in the locks. His face dawns an emotion of concern. “Darling, I’ve noticed you’ve been very stressed these last few days.”

His breath fans your face. You grab the edge of his shirt. “I think it would be a good idea to release some tension. Some alone time, maybe?” His pointer finger traced the bone of your jaw.

You smirk and pull away, trailing your hand up the contours of his chest. “You're right.” His wicked grin widens like a cat playing with prey. “I think I'll call in early and have a night to myself. I hope you will be okay hunting tonight.”

When you were scouting the perimeter, you stumbled across a small alcove. It was breathtaking. Several willows enclosed a small lake, water beautifully sparkling in the sun. You love swimming and have been thinking about the lake ever since. You occupy yourself with finishing your book until the sun sets. Once the camp settles for the night, you grab your pack and sneak your way out to the forest line.

Astarion’s grin drops, and his arms go limp. You slip away, lifting the edge of your tent. “Thank you again. Do you mind telling the others as well?”

He glares knowingly, and with a wink, you drop the flap and sit on the floor. You gather your supplies: a change of clothes, your only towel, and your washing bag.

The lake isn't too far, and before you know it, you're there. It's different in the moonlight. Fireflies buzz around the cattails, the willow branches sway softly above the water, and frogs croak on lily pads. You set a blanket to place the rest of your stuff around, quickly tossing your clothes off and wading into the water.

It's not as cold as expected, but you still gasp at the initial sting. You adapt quickly and soon dive fully, submerging into the fresh water. You stay underwater; ears plugged, giving a warped vibration through your head. Once your lungs begin to burn, you surface and gulp air.

“Well, isn't this just a coincidence?” Astarion chuckles, standing at the shore with pale forearms crossed over his chest. “I was just out on my hunt when I came across such a delectable treat.”

You bite your bottom lip, pulling your hands back and forth, sucking water in and out around your form. “Well, now that you've found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

You move onto your back and float, exposing your entire front half to his eyes. The water on your skin chills in the air. Your nipples pebble, and you hear a groan.

Floating in the water, you close your eyes. It's quiet momentarily before a large splash startles you and you're pulled under. You kick instinctually, and Astarion grabs your foot and drags you closer.

His strong arms circle your waist, and you resurface. You smack his chest. “You asshole.”

He laughs, and before you know it, you're laughing too. You sway in Astarion's arms as he carries you deeper into the lake. Grabbing a flower floating in the water, you begin to pick some of the limp petals. You look up and slide the flower into his hair. It's adorable.

Astarion pinches your chin and pulls your face close, staring deep into his eye. There are no words; you feel the line shatter when the reality of what's happening sinks in. There is no performance in his eyes. No formulaic flirtatious lines or sexy words. What is happening? You don't know, but when he crashes his lips to yours, you really fucking want to find out.

It's like a rubber band. The kisses open the damn, and soon your legs are wrapped around his hips. One hand threads through his pale curls, the other encircling his neck.

Astarion breaks from your lips and trails sloppy kisses down to your neck. "I have waited long enough to ravish you, my dear,"

And then you are moving; he's quickly wading through the water, not once removing his lips from your throat. You know it will bruise, and the idea of another mark of his sends heat lower down your body.

You sigh when Astarion nips your neck, pressing you down on the blanket. Wet skin slides against damp skin. Grabbing his hair, you pull him back up, capturing his lips. It is messy, sloppy, and all too much to handle.

You arch up, pressing your breast against his chest. He pauses, and you whine when he pulls away.

"What are these?" Astarion practically growls, pinching your hard nipple. You gasp his name as he twists the small metal bar through the nub. He grinds his hips against your leg. He's hard, his cock presses against his stomach.

"Jewelry," you moan, clutching his shoulder. "They make me more sensitive."

"Oh, my naughty girl," he lowers to take your neglected breast into his mouth. His skillful tongue sucks your breast, his hand paying equal attention to your other. Feeling a scrap of his fangs, you let out a cry of ecstasy, rolling your hips, seeking any source of friction.

Astarion pins your hips down and pulls away from your breast with a wet pop. "No, no, my sweet. I think you have not been fair keeping least lovely tits from me. I can't remember ever seeing such unique body modifications." He gives a sharp bite to your breast, just deep enough to pierce the skin.

Droplets of blood beaded to the surface; it was quickly lapped up with his tongue, a groan crawling its way up his chest. He slips one of his legs under yours, and his hips slide his stiff cock between sopping wet folds. You choke out his name, and his mouth moves to the other breast. "I think I'm owed a bit longer exploring such a beautiful chest."

"My, my, you're so responsive. I could spend hours pleasing you with my tongue." Astarion trails his tongue up between your breasts, eyes boring up into your flushed face. "Just imagine the delightful words I could pull from your beautiful lips as I lay between your thighs, playing your exquisite body like a bard's violin."

Your breath is uneven, panting while Astarion takes his time lavishing your breasts. Soon, your nipples are on fire, swollen from the ruthless attention Astarion has provided. Tears sting your eyes. You are desperate for anything, nothing; you are not sure, but you are moaning and pleading up into the night air. All available skin was victim to your desperate fingers.

"Starion, ugh-please, they're too sensitive." You tug at the small hairs at the nape of his neck. His lips tug the metal bar just enough to pull another cry from your lips. He releases your breast with a wet pop.

You bite his neck (almost the same spot he uses to feed from you) and all semblance of his control dissolves—you're back on the blanket in a show of Astarion's speed. Air was knocked from your lungs. "Fuck, my dear," Astarion grinds against you coating his cock in more of your juices. "I believe we've waited enough time to enjoy each other. So, I think I fuck you, deep and slow, until you can only scream my name. And if you're lucky, spend the rest of the night pulling lovely whimpers from your over-sensitive cunt."

His husky voice purred in your ears. Your thighs clench, arousal dripping onto the blanket. "Star," you breathe out, grabbing his face and crashing your lips together. Teeth clashed, and tongues fought for dominance. Wrapping your legs fully around Astarion's slim hips, you roll up. Using his distraction as leverage, you twist your hips and maneuver the two of you.

Astarion is now on his back, curls silver in the dark, and his eyes are wide with shock. You comfortably sat on his hips, hands pressing on each of his pecs. "You have my full permission to do that, but if you don't fuck me right now, I will be taking care of myself in my tent." Lips are back on his before you chuckle in his ears. "We have teased each other for months. I think it's about time you do something about this pretty boy."

Astarion doesn't leave a moment to respond before he impales you with one deep thrust. Your nails dig into his shoulders. Astarion grabs your calf, raises your leg, and sets a brutally slow pace.

You were matching each of his thrusts with a roll of your hips. Your mouth at his chest and throat, sloppily leaving kisses and spit on his pale torso. "Ug-fucking Gods, you so tight," The sounds of skin slapping against skin and collective cries of pleasure break up the quietness of the lake.

Astarion presses his forehead to yours, breathing in your whimpers of ecstasy. The force of his thrusts is jostling your breasts; your nipples rub against his cold skin.

The moans roll off your tongue; you put a hand into his hair. "A-astarion fast…faster," you choke, snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies to rub small circles over your clit. The warm tightening coils in your lower abdomen. "P-please, Star."

"Beautiful." Astarion's pace picks up, his balls slapping against your pussy. He quickly pushes your hand away and replaces your fingers with his own.

He doesn't need to be asked twice, and the cold pierce of his fangs digs into your throat. You choke on gasp, hips stuttering. Astarion is dragging, mouthfuls of your blood down his throat, his fingers picking up pace, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

The coil is tightening, and soon, you cannot form words outside of Astarion's name between pleases. "Oh, my sweet girl, so lost on my cock. I...fuck...I know it feels good."

He pinches your left nipple again and you whimper. "Your body is exquisite. I won't be able to last much longer, my love." His voice is hoarse, and he rambles between frantic ruts. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

Astarion presses kisses and licks to the hollow of your throat. He is asking for permission, and you quickly press him closer. "Yes, please," you groan. All the sensations Astarion was giving you were becoming too much. You were quickly approaching the edge.

The pain mixes with pleasure, and it's too much. Tears prick at your eyes. You ticken around hos cock and a rumble ruptures through his chest. He takes a few more gulps before pulling away. Astarion's tongue licks, ensuring no waste of your blood.

As soon as he pulls away from your neck, he's pushing his tongue into your mouth with a quick thrust—the metallic tang of your blood mixes between your mouths. "I'm close," you breathe, running your nose against his. Your panting, feeling like no breath can satisfy your burning lungs.

His thrusts are becoming sloppy, devolving into more grinds of hips. His fingers drag over your clit in tight, fast circles. "Me too," he's just as breathless, hips stuttering with pleasure. "Come for me, darling, let me hear you."

It's like your body was waiting for his honey-slick words to give you permission. Because the moment those words leave his devilish lips, you snap. You scream his name, legs pulling him close.

You didn't expect post-sex cuddles from Astarion, but gods, you could fall in love with this man if you weren't careful. But would that be too bad? To fall in love? You kiss his collarbone and pull your towel over the majority of your body.

With one, two, three more deep thrusts. Astarion comes with a breathy moan spilling deep into your core. You two lay there, tangled in each other's body. Hearts are pounding as you breathe each other's air.

Astarion pulls out and rolls to his back. You curl onto his chest, laying your ear over his silent heart. He plays with your hands and peppers kisses over your hairline.

You wish to stay the night in his arms right here, just having him hold you. But Astarion stiffens slightly when a shiver rolls through your body. It's like the bubble of serenity pops. Astarion is quick to remove himself from you.

"I don't believe cuddling wet and naked with a vampire is good for one's health." He's pulling his clothes on. And reluctantly and with shaky legs, you follow his lead. Astarion is quiet on the walk back, lost in thought. He plays with a coin mindlessly.

You don't push, knowing Astarion better than to pry. So you let him walk you to your tent. And just as you move to duck into your bed for sleep, Astarion grabs your wrist.

You turn and look up into his scarlet eyes. His expression is hard to read; his confusion, hesitancy, affection, and anger are fluidly behind his eyes. They could all fit, but nothing seemed to reflect Astarion's eyes. "I…" He pauses, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. He opens his mouth again but clicks it back close. Astarion searches your eyes as if they held the answer to his unspoken question.

Astarion doesn't seem to find what he's looking for because he shakes his hand—pressing a light kiss to the apple of your cheek. He drops your hand reluctantly. "Have a good night, my dear,"

Then he's gone, leaving you alone, the tingle of his lips still lingering on your skin. Your fingers trail across your cheek, and a small smile stretches your lips. Yeah, you could very easily fall in love with that man. Maybe you already have.

Okay let me know what you thought? I haven't written smut in forever and have never been super confident in it.

If you liked this how about checking out my other two Astarion pieces.

Happy Birthday **** Reoccurring Nightmares

[helloporcelain]

Doux

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion/fem!Tav Rating: explicit (18+)  Tags: oral sex (involving period blood), piv sex, blood drinking, mutual pining, slow burn, orgasm denial, mentions of Astarion's trauma (but not graphic), there's also like the TINIEST mention of rimming & breathplay but i promise it's so mild, oneshot Summary: Tav seemed perfectly normal in their day to day, but Astarion knew that she was avoiding him. It had been that way since the last time he had fed on her. Read on AO3 if you prefer

Tav couldn't help but celebrate. 

The last couple of days had been grueling. Gods, it had felt so good to finally get back to camp. A dip in the cool river, followed by a change into the lovely dress Alfira had gifted her, had Tav feeling like a brand new person for the night. She had stuffed herself so full on a feast of cheese pies and grilled pork belly that she nearly threw up, and then after, she dramatically retold the story of the goblin slaying to the group of wide-eyed children. It felt like a massive weight was lifted off her shoulders – she and her companions had been awarded a win, one they really needed.

Grateful tieflings swarmed Tav the entire night, showering her with wine-fueled hugs of gratitude. She waved off their praises, insisting that it had been a team effort and encouraged the others to accept their share of recognition as well, because there was no way she could’ve done it all by herself. Eventually, Tav found herself sandwiched between Shadowheart and Karlach on a log. The two women were drunk and engaged in unabashed flirtatious banter with each other. Tav, however, kept her wits about her. She took a swig from a tepid mug of ale, her eyes locked onto Astarion across the camp. He was visibly annoyed by the children surrounding him, all clamoring to catch a glimpse of the bow he used to slay goblins.

In the midst of all the chaos, he caught her staring at him through the dancing tieflings. Astarion tipped his head sideways, as if asking a question. Startled, she choked on her drink, inadvertently spilling some on Karlach. 

“Oops,” Tav said, as Shadowheart leaned over her lap to wipe off the ale from Karlach’s pants before the sizzle of the burning liquid caused her to yelp and quickly withdraw her hand.

“We really need to fix that, don’t we?” Shadowheart muttered sarcastically, fanning her injured hand, attempting to cool it down.

“Maybe lay off the wine,” Tav suggested sarcastically. “I’m going to go make my rounds. The people need their gracious host.”

She set off to mingle with the others, and felt the stare radiating through her as she joined the nearby chatter. Lia and Cal, to be exact, were begging for Rolan to present some fireworks. Rolan conjured a rather underwhelming prestidigitation spell, prompting Tav to tuck her mug under her armpit and offer a polite clap after an awkward pause. Round and round, Tav meandered through the camp as she talked to everyone, hells, even Withers, avoiding Astarion as if her life depended on it. With each new person, they topped her mug off with fresh ale. 

As the night wore on and the ale warmed her cheeks, Tav found herself growing increasingly uninhibited. By the time she reached Halsin, she couldn’t resist flirting with him. Who could blame her? Halsin’s gigantic muscles had called out to her, and he was nothing if not good natured. The mountain of an elf laughed off her inebriated advances gently – his head was elsewhere, not that she blamed him. 

“There are many grateful people here who would want to spend time with you,” Halsin said, a glint in his eye. Tav wanted to follow the look, but chose not to, knowing where it trailed behind her. “I must not keep you all to myself. As enjoyable as that may be.” 

She offered something of an agreement before she wandered off to the nearby river, seeking solace and a moment to contemplate on her thoughts, away from the songs and dancing. 

**

The first time Astarion fed on her, Tav had accidentally fallen into a trance one night outside her tent. She had insisted the rest of her companions get some sleep while she cleaned up from the mess they made at supper. After washing the cauldron out in the river, she lugged it back to the fire and had meant to sit down for just a second of rest. Before she knew it, she had drifted off, only to awaken with Astarion hovering over her, teeth bared, wearing an expression she had never seen before. With a dagger pressed to his chest, the look was gone, replaced by a frantic attempt to explain why he had loomed over her so ominously. She couldn't fathom why he was scared; he knew her knife skills were almost as poor as Gale's.

When he confessed the truth, Tav's heart grew heavy – heavy for the way he asked for her trust, no, insisted that she could trust him. Every instinct in her screamed she would be foolish to, but she did.

But she was firm; he could feed on her this one time. After that, it was enemies only, or else. Companions weren’t food, they needed their strength just as he did, and he would not become accustomed to using her – or any of them, for that matter – to satisfy his needs.

Not that any of the others lined up to be his bloodwell... though the group tolerated Astarion, there’d been a sense of uneasiness among the others about the truth. 

Tav braced herself for discomfort at best (and suffering, at worst), but she was completely thrown when all she felt was desire. The unexpected pleasure took her by surprise, though it made sense in hindsight. If it were nothing but pain, vampires wouldn't have gained their notorious reputation for seduction. It felt as though Astarion had plunged his fingers into the depths of her chest and held her heart in a vice-like grip. The more blood he drew from her, the more she wanted for Astarion to take everything he needed, even at the cost of her own life. In the briefest second, Tav felt herself fading away to the gentle chill of her lifesource dwindling, her neck so numb she couldn’t parse out where his fangs were.  In the end, she barely pushed him off her, doubting his self control. Tav noticed the change in Astarion immediately – his face looked brighter, his eyes less dull. Before he left, he promised he wouldn’t forget the gift that she had given him. 

Two weeks later, Tav surprised herself by offering her blood to him a second time.

The camp was quieter than usual. It had been a long day and it had taken its toll on them all. Auntie Ethel turned out to be much more than they had anticipated – offering no cure, only trouble. Shadowheart had gone to her tent for her evening prayers. Gale blew his candles out early, claiming eight hours of sleep was necessary for his mind, body, and complexion. The rest sat by the fire, settling for a bit of relaxation before they retired for the night. Lae’zel, Wyll and Karlach were engaged in a very competitive game of cards while Astarion lounged nearby, engrossed in a book he had stolen from the hag’s teahouse.

Tav had been writing furiously in her journal next to him, when she reached down to her satchel, rummaging through to find an apple for dessert. She couldn’t help but peek at him through the corner of her eye. Astarion had been unusually silent since their return to camp. She had a feeling he was tense from their run in with the monster hunter earlier that day. During the exchange, she noticed a second of panic run across his face as Gandrel revealed who he was searching to capture. The monster hunter never did end up accomplishing his job – courtesy of Astarion and his dagger. 

“If you have something to say, Tav, darling,” he said, his eyes fixed on his book. “You should just say it. It’s ill-mannered to stare.” 

Tav turned the apple over in her lap, contemplating if it was smart to broach the subject, then began nonchalantly, “I don’t suppose you want to address what happened earlier.”

“You want to hear about Cazador,” Astarion said with a tired disdain. “My old master. Before the mind flayers took me from him. Before this strange, twisted freedom.” He slammed the book shut with one hand, and Tav listened intently as he painted a picture of Cazador. A cruel, paranoid master who tortured Astarion for two centuries. A monster obsessed with power, a monster of which it was very clear that Astarion would go to great lengths to never return to.

It was so much worse than Astarion had let on. 

“Why do you think he wants you alive?” she asked.

Astarion pursed his lips. “Maybe he wants to make an example of me. To show what happens to runaways.” He cast his eyes aside before giving her a solemn look. “Or, maybe, he thinks death is too good for me.” 

Tav had always known that Astarion wore a mask, but she had never realized just how often it was in place. It was a remarkably well crafted one, but every mask was bound to slip off at some point. From the very first day they crossed paths, she had found something about him to be perplexing, though she couldn't put her finger on it.  She had thought of him as arrogant, a little malicious, and selfish. Yet, in that moment, as his gaze drifted far away into the embers of the fire, she saw something else—a hint of fear.

“I’m sorry, Astarion,” she said with sincerity. There wasn’t much else for her to say, and she doubted he wanted empty platitudes. 

Astarion nodded appreciatively. “Thank you, but – this isn’t about sympathy. It’s about knowing what we might be up against. The mind flayers aren’t the only monsters out there, hunting us. All I’m asking is that you keep your eyes open, and watch out for anything lurking in the shadows.” 

Her hand inched closer to his fingers, an inhumane chill radiating from them. Tav thought about putting her hand over his in comfort, but thought it too intimate of a gesture for them. “As long as I’m around, I’ll watch your back,” she promised. “You will never go back to him. I won’t let it happen.” 

Astarion’s posture relaxed as he pulled his hand away from the warmth of hers, and gave her a smile – the one that never reached his eyes.  “What more could I ask for? Now, is that all?” 

His fingers tapped a restless beat on his book, as though they might start flipping the pages on their own. Tav studied his face. He had deep mauve bags under his eyes, and his gaze had darkened to the color of oxblood. She wondered how many animals he must have voraciously consumed to still remain so far from the vibrant state he had been in after she had shared her blood with him. Tav weighed the decision to offer him her blood again. She pictured Astarion feeding on rats as if daintily sipping tea from a tiny cup and it was somewhat amusing, but mostly it just made her pity him.

“I was thinking…” she paused, looking down to the apple in her lap. She brought it up to her face and peered at it, checking it for worms. 

“Oh no. That’s never a good sign.” 

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "...that you looked more weary than usual. Perhaps you might fancy a bite?" His fingers slowed their tapping as his eyes fixated on her mouth. Tav crunched into the apple and cocked her head at him.

"Well," Astarion replied, a hint of pleasant surprise in his tone. "I suppose if you're offering a treat, then who am I to turn you down?"

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Tav said, expression stern as she emphasized her words. “We won’t make a habit of this. But… we do need you strong for when we reach the goblin camp.” 

Astarion’s smile changed into the nefarious smirk that she was familiar with. “If you say so,” he purred, leaning closer to whisper in her ear.  “Come to my tent after the others have fallen asleep.” 

Two hours later, she cursed herself for picking the furthest possible area from him to lay down her tent.  Tav quietly crept across the camp to Astarion, pausing every couple of steps just to listen for snores. She just didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea; as the unofficial leader of the group, feeding Astarion was a purely strategic move.

Sneaking past Karlach was nerve-wracking – she had an open tent, explaining that she ran too hot in an enclosed space. Luckily, the barbarian slept still like a boulder. It was Scratch, who dozed at her feet, that made Tav pause. She brought her finger to her lips and gestured for the dog to stay quiet, his sleepy eyes following her until she reached Astarion's tent. She crouched and leaned against the closed fabric. 

Not knowing what to say, Tav whispered, “Dinner’s here.”

“Cute. Come in, darling.” 

Tav poked into the tent and found him reclining on his bedroll, propped up by an excessive number of pillows, more than anyone else had. He had stolen them in Waukeen’s Rest, grumbling about missing the comfort of a proper bed like a civilized person. It was her first time seeing the inside of his tent, and she couldn't resist taking it all in. The inside was dimly lit by a single candle atop a stack of looted books, and next to him was a tray hosting an array of colorful rings and necklaces he collected from both unsuspecting innocents and dead bodies. Even out in the wilderness, Astarion was opulent. He had changed into his fine nightclothes and looked at her with a raised eyebrow – she was still wearing her muddy, fight-stained cloak.  

“Ah, right.” She looked down at herself. “I washed up, promise. Just didn’t want to traipse around at this hour in my nightshirt.” She shrugged the coat off onto the ground, revealing a plain night outfit. “I don’t plan on being in here long.” 

"Well, make yourself comfortable nonetheless," Astarion beckoned, sitting up and gesturing towards the snug space they now shared. “Just be very quiet and our little midnight rendezvous will stay a secret.” He shuffled on his pillows, inviting her closer.

“I should’ve hoarded some pillows like you,” Tav remarked. “You’re resting like a little princess.” 

Astarion chuckled. "Oh, my dear, you'll be sleeping quite soundly after I'm finished here. Come, sit on my lap." She hesitated, making a reluctant face. 

"Now, don't be difficult," he continued with a playful grin. "It'll be far more comfortable for you this way. I wouldn't want to accidentally suffocate you again, as I nearly did last time." Tav inched towards him, careful to not touch anywhere but the bedroll. She knelt down and followed his request, straddling him while placing a hand on his shoulder for support. A sudden shiver ran down her spine as she felt just how icy he was, catching her off guard.

"Sorry," Tav broke the silence, "You’re so cold. I grew up with the chill, but you’re different."

“I have bad circulation,” Astarion replied dryly.

Tav shifted her body on him, hoping he didn’t realize how mortified she was. "Are you comfortable?" 

He responded with an earnest chuckle and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face. "You're rather adorable, aren't you?" He gently pushed her face to the side, positioning her neck at the perfect angle for him. "I knew you liked this more than you let on."

“Don’t speak nonsense,” she spluttered, her head snapping back to look at him. “I am doing you a favor.” 

Astarion adjusted her face to the side again, his hand now more firmly gripping her chin. “Don’t be coy,” he murmured, low and seductive. “Your body has already given you away.” 

He leaned into her neck, taking in her smell, lips hovering over her bare skin. “I could feel it, you know, as I was getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement.” Tav’s back stiffened and she felt the urge to leap and run out the tent, but his other arm tightened its grasp around her hip. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

Her body betrayed her when she gasped as his mouth pressed against her skin, goosebumps prickling her arms and the back of her neck.

“You don’t have to say a thing. I already know how you feel. I feel it too.” 

And then he sunk his fangs into the pulse of Tav’s neck, her fingers digging into his arm. Her stinging skin parted under his sharp teeth with frightening ease. Tav never thought of herself as delicate, but she felt as vulnerable as a little rabbit torn apart by a hound.

She jerked suddenly when Astarion bit down harder, willing her frantically beating heart to pump more blood faster into his mouth. He made a small noise, something resembling relief, as each droplet surged past his lips. Sucking away and lapping at the wound at the base of her neck, as if he were merely cleaning up a small mess he made, caused an electric sensation to shoot through her spine and then down to her groin. His hands dug a tighter grip into the sides of her body as he sucked and sucked and sucked. Black dots slowly speckled her vision as if distant stars were blinking into existence. She let out a choked whimper, her body quivering beyond her control.  Blissed out crimson eyes met hers as he pulled away briefly, his lips glistening with her life's essence. His gaze burned into her, the hunger swirling in his eyes.

“That’s a strange definition of quiet.” 

Before she could reply, Astarion placed a firm palm over her mouth. With his lips away from her neck, she felt her blood flow down her collarbones, dripping into the hollow of her chest. He tongued at the trail at the top of her shoulders, lapping up the burgundy rivulets. She shuddered as he went lower to her ruffled nightshirt, and he gently pulled down at it just enough to lazily clean up the remaining droplets at the top of her breasts. 

Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to control her breathing, and that was when Tav noticed the hardness pressed underneath her. “Just a little more, darling,” Astarion panted.

His tongue scorched on her skin as he licked up the trail, fangs grazing her skin on his way back to the puncture marks. His hand fell from Tav’s mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head as another gush of warm blood hit his tongue, coating every crevice of his mouth.

“Astarion.”

His name tumbled out from her in a moan, as she was painfully aware in equal parts both of the erection against her and the wetness soaking through her undergarment. He didn’t respond, but he did stop suckling at her neck. “You can stop now.” 

Then with a degree of reluctance, he removed his lips from her, mouth and chin so completely covered in her blood that it looked morbidly lewd. Tav looked up at him with wide eyes, heart pounding. 

“We could get some privacy,” Astarion murmured after a few seconds passed. His fingers traced down her back, sending a tickle through her backbone. She stiffened, keeping her eyes fixed on his, a reply trapped in her throat.  “To enjoy ourselves more. I know somewhere quiet, not far from here.” He shifted his lap and pressed himself against her, to show her what he meant, if he wasn’t clear enough. 

Tav’s resolve wavered for a moment, but she quickly composed herself and moved to push herself off him, though his arms behind her back kept her in place. “That– that's enough, actually,” she responded, her ragged breath catching up to an even pace. She wasn’t going to respond to his suggestion. Tav knew he was toying with her, that he thought her naive.

“You’re looking better already, for a dead man,” Tav said coolly. He huffed in annoyance and leaned back, granting her space to stand up from his lap. “Your eyes,” she observed. “They glow when you feed on me. A person’s blood does wonders for you."

Astarion lifted his hand up to his mouth, swiping off the wet, shining blood. He coated his fingers with what remained and languidly sucked, keeping a fixed gaze on her that made her want to run for the hills. 

“That is the understatement of the century, my dear.” 

Tav tried to hide the way her fingers trembled as she attempted to button up her cloak, haphazardly connecting the wrong ones. He watched her intently as she covered up his bite with the garment.  She opened the flap halfway and, before she left, turned to face Astarion, her voice firm. “Don’t expect this again.”

Astarion offered a wry smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**

Astarion didn't fancy himself a connoisseur of puzzles and riddles. He loathed prolonged attempts at figuring things out. Patience was a virtue he seldom possessed, especially if figuring out something – or someone – took too long. He supposed he'd grown accustomed to resolving things rather quickly, a skill honed during centuries of servitude to his demanding master, Cazador.

Well… former master. But Astarion didn't want to regard Cazador in past terms, not just yet. He didn’t feel he had the luxury. Not while the wicked vampire lord was actively searching for him. Astarion was skilled at deception, but he refused to lie to himself; fear gnawed at him relentlessly and he found himself barely able to meditate in peace most of the time. He was plagued by nightmares of Cazador finding him and dragging him back into his clutches. So, he conceived of backup plan upon backup plan. He didn’t entirely rule out Raphael – the devil potentially had the power to free him from Cazador, but it would undoubtedly come with strings attached. Would the worm wriggling behind his eye be key to his freedom? Perhaps, if he didn’t turn into a mindflayer first. 

Ironically, all of those possibilities just meant merely shifting him from one master’s control to another.

Astarion sighed, keeping a watchful eye on Mol. She thought she was being quite sneaky, attempting to pickpocket him. He flicked the child in the forehead as punishment, and sent her scampering away with a handful of rings he had deliberately allowed her to take.

Why had he been granted a second, well, technically third chance at life, only to be confronted with one grim option after another? What had he done in his previous life to deserve this? He had been so young when he turned, Astarion couldn't quite recall the details anymore. He remembered working for the government—and probably was not the most benevolent magistrate back then—but surely, he couldn't have been any worse than any other charlatan. It’s not like he kicked children or orchestrated an illicit gnome trafficking ring, right?

His chain of thoughts broke at the sight of Tav’s bright eyes locked on him from across the camp. She averted her gaze when he returned the look. After that, all he could see was the curtain of her hair veiling her face as she maneuvered around the camp, chatting with everybody else.

Tav seemed perfectly normal in their day to day, but Astarion knew that she was avoiding him. It had been that way since the last time he had fed on her. And she was right to avoid him; it was a foolish thing she had done, trusting Astarion like that. She just couldn’t help herself, could she? Anyone who batted an eyelash at her and cried a sob story got a helping hand from her, it didn’t matter who. She didn’t stop to think that it wasn’t how the world worked – some people weren’t destined to be helped, no matter how often they prayed to the gods.

Tav was good and it sickened him. 

Without her, Astarion thought, he would’ve been content to let the tieflings meet their fate, either slaughtered on the road or at the hands of the druids – it didn’t make a difference to him. In fact, he doubted the others really cared to resolve the whole Druids vs Tieflings dispute in the midst of their tadpole predicament. But Tav rallied them just the right amount that none of them could ever say no to her.

The others genuinely valued her opinion, and often looked to her for guidance, whether they realized it or not. Being on Tav’s good side was the intelligent thing to do, Astarion had quickly gathered. She had vouched for him when the others recoiled at his true nature – most would have stabbed a stake through his heart for what he stupidly attempted to do that night. He needed her on his side. Astarion wasn’t sure what would end up happening after reaching Moonrise Towers, and he was ashamed to admit he didn’t want to go at it alone. He didn’t know how to be alone. The entire concept of solitude unsettled him.

The men and women he was accustomed to manipulating for Cazador crumbled before him with little effort. Seduction had been his modus operandi for over two centuries. Honeyed words and enticing caresses were second nature to Astarion, always serving as a sinister means to a grim end – delivering innocent victims into the clutches of Cazador for torture, death, or worse.

This was precisely what made Tav simultaneously so magnetic and so frustrating. She hadn't succumbed to his charms as expected. Astarion had even briefly entertained the possibility that maybe she just wasn’t interested in men, but that idea was dismissed when he overheard a late-night conversation between her and Lae’zel, who had made quite an aggressive advance – one she promptly rebuffed. So, what would it take to make her more receptive to his advances?

��Sulking will ruin your pretty face, Astarion.” Shadowheart’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I thought you, of all people,  would know how to have a little fun tonight.”

He scoffed at her, dramatically eyeing her figure up and down. “If that were possible, then you would be the ugliest one here, my dear.” 

Shadowheart stared at him for a moment and then broke out into an uncharacteristic giggle. “We have a long road ahead – be happy that we are all still in one piece, and celebrate for just one night.  I know I am,” she said, waving a bottle of wine towards him. 

“Is that Marsember Blush?” Astarion narrowed his eyes, recognizing the fine vintage wine. “Where did you unearth that? I know that didn’t come from the tiefling’s sorry supplies.”

“You’re not the only one with sticky fingers,” Shadowheart replied, a sly smile on her lips. “And no, I’m not offering any to you. I already have someone to share it with.” With that, she made her way back to the fire near Karlach, who was engrossed in showing the tiefling children her burning Hellion heart. 

He scanned the area for Tav and he found her staring at Halsin with an adoring look. Astarion couldn’t help but feel envious that he wasn’t the recipient of the smile, so gentle that it betrayed the notorious reputation that followed dark elves. He frowned, thinking of Shadowheart's words – she was right. He would have a little fun tonight, and he would get Tav to adore him so thoroughly that she wouldn't ever entertain the thought of betraying him.

Astarion impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for Tav to approach him, but she continued on, disappearing around a corner and heading toward a waterfall beyond the camp. Deciding to follow, he snagged a bottle of wine from a passed-out bard and made his way to her. Astarion found her sitting against a boulder, her head tilted back as she gazed at the stars above.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Astarion said. “Done basking in the limelight, Tav? Got tired of having high praises sung to you?” 

She fiddled with the collar of the lovely dress that she wore for the occasion. “I needed a moment to myself. I don’t get them often lately.” Tav looked up at him, her slate gray skin glowing in the moonlight. Despite the mismatched eyes (thanks to her trusting Volo a little too much), she was beautiful, he noted, and he did have a fondness for beautiful things. Bedding her wouldn't be torture; it could have been worse.

“I’m glad I was able to help them, to show that we’re not all Lolth’s servants. It’s usually a little funny, but sometimes being looked at like a monster is tiring,” Tav confessed.

He blinked, taken aback by Tav’s unexpectedly sincere admission, wondering if he had picked a bad moment to approach her. However, she patted the ground next to her, inviting him to sit, and then she chuckled. "Sorry. Did I ruin the mood?"

Astarion settled down against the rock, bumping his shoulder against hers. Tav watched him intently as he worked on removing the corkscrew from the wine. When he tilted the bottle in her direction as an offer, she declined with a shake of her head, prompting Astarion to take a sip himself. He grimaced from the acrid taste. 

“Well, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one people would toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…” he paused, taking another mouthful.  “I hate it. It’s awful.” 

“It’s not that bad. Think of all the nasty little goblins you got to kill.” 

“True…” Astarion smiled impishly, thinking fondly on the many different ways to murder. Regular arrows dipped in poison or set ablaze with fiery magic, the thrust of a dagger into vulnerable flesh. The memories were invigorating.

“That was fun," he mused. "Still, I would've liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine. All I want is a little excitement tonight, is that so much to ask? The good kind – not the 'we might turn into hideous mind flayers at any moment' excitement." He sighed dramatically and raised the bottle for another sip.

Suddenly, she swiped the bottle from him, and took a long swig. When she lowered the bottle, he watched as her face juggled through a few emotions, ultimately landing on disgust. “See what I mean? Awful.” 

“Absolutely dreadful," she remarked before bursting into laughter.

This close, her scent was intense, sending a thrill through his body. She had a distinct aroma, one that he could uniquely parse out from everyone else’s. Tav smelled of amber and spiced honey and pink pepper, even through the grime and chaos of their adventures.

“Well, you’ve heard the saying? Beggars can’t be choosers,” she slurred slightly, playfully hiding the bottle behind her back.  

“Look at you… my treat with her cheeks all flushed,” he tutted. Astarion peered into her eyes with practiced adoration. “I’m amazed you managed to keep your mind clear enough to fight. I’ve been thinking about our last night together ceaselessly, you know.” 

Astarion wasn’t lying. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking of the last time she visited his tent. 

He recalled vividly how she had melted under his teeth, the way her body went limp like a puppet cut from their strings. He had felt profoundly powerful, and she had tasted exquisite, nothing like the rats he had been forced to sustain himself on for centuries. An excitement he had never felt before coursed through his bones at the first droplet. Astarion told himself afterwards it was only because she was his first. He had hoped to have her then, to get the chase done with, as he could smell her arousal clear as day. She had obviously wanted more. And yet, she ran from him. Playing hard to get, he surmised.

“You could just ask for more blood,” Tav responded bitterly. “I knew the goblins weren’t for your refined palate.” The bottle was pushed back into his lap. “You don’t have to woo me with your—” She made a wild gesture with her hands. “—vampiric charms.”

He had hoped a wine-addled Tav would be easier to seduce. 

“Darling, you wound me.” Astarion put a hand to his heart dramatically.  “I saw you earlier, with Halsin. Well, everybody did. Subtlety is clearly not your forte. The way you looked at him had me positively green with envy. Well, I guess I can’t fault your taste, he is a fine specimen.” 

Tav’s ears flushed with embarrassment and she looked away, fixating intently at the fish nearby. They swam down the stream and it reminded Astarion of her, eager to get away from him. 

“That was nothing. Just laughter between friends,” she downplayed.

“Is it so hard to believe that hearing that brings me relief?” 

Another truth. She would be considerably easier to have if she wasn’t attached to someone else. 

"Is it so hard to believe…" He extended his hand to caress her cheek, his touch gentle and tender. “That I want you? That there’s not a single soul tonight, here or otherwise, who I’d rather be with.” When she met his gaze again, Astarion thought he might have caught his little fish by the hook after all.

“Such bewitching lies,” Tav marveled. “I almost believe them. Oh, you’re good.” 

“You don’t have to believe what I say, darling. You just need to believe how I feel .” 

He inched towards her, allowing the wine bottle to roll away from his lap and into the river. Astarion pressed a feather light kiss to her jaw, then her cheek. His fingers held her chin, guiding her to him. When their lips finally met, a sigh escaped her, and Astarion couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as her mouth willingly parted to welcome him. Despite the foul wine, she tasted sweet. And he found that he didn’t mind it, not at all. 

Tav grew more enthusiastic, deepening the kiss. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue in,  and clamped his teeth onto her bottom lip, drawing the flesh into his mouth. She moaned, muffled against him. He had drawn blood. He broke the kiss to lap the blood from her lips, and he felt his cock twitch. A natural reaction for any vampire, he told himself. Blood was simply too exciting. 

Tav drew away from him, breathless, her lip bruised.  “Are you…hungry, Astarion?” she asked. 

Astarion considered her question. He could tell her yes. He could answer that he was always hungry, that he could drink and drink and there'd still be something missing, gnawing away in his chest. It was an insatiable yearning, an emptiness that no amount of blood would ever fill—a bleak hunger that defined his existence, a constant reminder of the curse that haunted him.

Or he could choose to play pretend instead. That would be easier to swallow.

He put on a mischievous smile. “In what way?” 

"Don’t be cheeky," she said, a blush gracing her cheeks as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I had a feeling you might be. It’s been some time... and you always seem so much stronger and happier when you've had your fill."

"And your point is?" Astarion asked, though he already had a sense where this was going. He just wanted to hear her say it.

“That I can help you. That you might as well continue to use me.” She winced at her phrasing. “I don’t have to be a vampire to understand that animals aren’t the same. I suppose if we come to an agreement about it, the others will have to mind their business. Just tell me when you need it. That is – if you want to, anyway.” 

His eyes darkened at the proposition. “How delightfully pragmatic of you,” he purred in response. 

Tav had given him a refreshing game of cat and mouse, but she succumbed to his beauty, just like everyone else before her. Astarion wished he could say he was surprised, but it’d be a lie. This was how it always worked. You want something, you need to give something. He would shut his brain off, bed her and give her a night of earth shattering pleasure; in return he was not only basically guaranteed protection from Cazador, but was also given a reliable source of blood. Two birds, one stone.

There was nothing else he needed to hear, so Astarion swiftly pulled her into his lap, a surprised squeak escaping her lips. “Hey–”  

He pressed a finger to her lips and kissed behind her ear, then her neck. Tav let out a sigh of defeat and leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Astarion’s curled fingers traced at the healing puncture marks with admiration, thumbs pressing half-moons into her skin. He dragged the tip of a fang over her skin, slicing a neat line. Small beads of blood began to well up along the thin cut, and he closed his mouth over it and sank in. His third time, and yet it was just as exciting as the first – Astarion was well aware that anyone would be appetizing in contrast to his dismal vegetarian diet, but still wondered if others would be better, compared to her. 

If that was possible. He wasn’t sure at that moment. 

Astarion lost himself in an instant as he buried his senses in her neck, a haze of sensation enveloping him like an intoxicating fog. He had understood then Cazador's obsession—how could one not want to ensnare a person, to chain them in perpetual captivity, to render them an unwilling pet, when they tasted like this?

“Not too much,” Tav breathed heavily, her voice trembling. “I might –” She shuddered against him, and he groaned in response, but his hunger drove him forward. Astarion was starving, didn’t she understand? After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserved something better. He was never going to return to the days of deprivation; he would do anything to ensure that pathetic version of himself was gone for good.

Tav’s fingers grasped around his curls, trying to pull him away from the shadow of her neck, but in her weakened state, it was no use. If anything, it spurred Astarion on. Euphoria clouded his judgement, eyes glazed over with sanguine lust as his fangs disappeared deeper into her tender flesh, blood bursting around him. He tugged at Tav’s hips, pressing her down against him, eliciting a whimper from her. His cock had swelled with arousal and Astarion tried to recall the last time he had gotten so hard of his own volition. He couldn’t.

You are still a slave, an unwelcome voice from the depths of his consciousness sneered. A slave to your innate desire. Why deny your true nature?

It took every ounce of willpower in his body to not drain her completely, to disregard the sinister suggestions. Astarion found the strength to pull away, his nose nuzzling against Tav’s jaw as he regained his composure.

"There's a clearing in the forest," he spoke with a steady voice, his fingers gently stroking her hair as she struggled to catch her breath. “I have been waiting to have you. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.” 

Tav snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you?” He looked at her with steeled eyes, masking the irritation that simmered in him. He kept the thorniness out of his tone. “I think you want to be known. To be tasted.” 

“And what do you want?”

Astarion’s voice hushed in a sensual murmur, the kind he found most weak willed people were prey to. “What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me.” 

“You act like you know everything,” Tav replied, finally looking at him. Her expression was inscrutable, but the smell of desire radiating off her was unmistakable. 

“A pretty man and his prettier words.” She cupped his face, as if she were to lean in and kiss him. But she didn’t. “I’m tired. I hope I was able to help you.” 

Astarion watched dumbfounded as she pushed up from his cradle and his arms fell limp to his side. She rejected him again, he thought incredulously. He didn’t look away until she had turned and disappeared back into camp. Then he wiped the remaining blood off his face with his fingers, fully intending to savor what was left. But then something stole his attention—a motionless fish floating in the stream. Without thinking, he plunged his hands into the water to catch it. Astarion had it for a second, until it wriggled its way out and plopped back into the water, swimming away in a swirl of crimson.

** 

They had been venturing through the labyrinth of the Underdark for countless days. It was a quiet familiarity that Tav was thankful for, despite the fact that she had left for the world above many years ago. After everything that she’d gone through recently, she welcomed something that still made sense to her. She understood it  – tricky paths to avoid, what poisonous plants you shouldn’t go near, the right grounds to make camp on. Due to the nature of the journey she was on with her companions, however, she grew to anticipate unwelcome surprises. 

Still, it hadn’t made it any easier to accept that her cycle had started – Tav had completely forgotten all about amidst the chaos of their tadpole predicament. Drow females only bled every three months and their cycles were extremely heavy and painful. It hit her one day as they were on the trail towards Grymforge, crossing paths with Filro the Forgotten and his hook horrors. The man hadn’t even let her utter a greeting before he attempted to murder them.

“What happened to hello? How are you? My name is?” Gale had complained, jumping out of the way.

Tav was in the middle of casting a fire spell when she felt a heavy gush in her underwear. She stuttered, registering the feeling, and attempted the spell again. This time, her aim was off, narrowly missing the wizard and instead scorching the hair on the top of his head. 

"My friend, have you lost your mind?" Gale shouted at her. "We discussed the value of my own life at length! To kill me is counterproductive!"

Her hand went to her abdomen instinctively as the cramps lurched through her. “My bad,” she stammered.  She took a few steps back, watching Karlach charge ahead with a hammer to whack the vulture-like monstrosity just a hair's breadth away from the wizard’s face. 

"To be sure, I am also averse to being bludgeoned!" he yelled at Karlach. A dripping, acid-coated arrow flew overhead from behind him and pierced the Filro’s right eyeball. Gale threw his hands up in the air with exasperation and quickly teleported himself away to higher, safer ground, muttering something about the stars not being in his favor.

Lae’zel probed at Filro’s lifeless body with her foot. “The elf is dead,” she confirmed, sounding disappointed. 

Astarion stepped up beside Tav, tucking his arrows away. “Did one of those wretched creatures manage to swipe at you?” His tone displayed concern, but his face betrayed a hint of intrigue. 

Shadowheart whipped her head around at his question. “Are you hurt?” she asked, scanning Tav’s body for noticeable wounds. “I’ll tend to you when we’ve set up camp for the night.” 

“No!” Tav blustered, causing Shadowheart to raise her eyebrows in confusion. She quickly clarified: “I’m fine . Astarion is mistaken. I think you might do well to take a look at Gale, though. I may have caused a bald spot.”

In the hours that followed, Tav maintained her distance from Astarion – as he had made it abundantly clear that he could smell her – while they all continued their search for a spot to set up camp. Eventually, they stumbled on an area with access to freshwater, a true blessing. By this point, Tav was simply relieved to have her long cloak, otherwise the others would’ve known for sure that she was bleeding through her trousers like a youngling. She diligently set up her tent, choosing a spot far away from Astarion and close to the lake.

Astarion had not asked to feed on her since they left for the Underdark, and Tav had no intention of offering, especially considering the situation unfolding between her thighs.

Their interactions had remained normal as can be, largely because Tav had bigger matters to occupy her mind than pondering her feelings for him, as if she were a little girl with a crush. Time was a valuable commodity lately and she wouldn’t use her precious free moments dwelling on a man who almost certainly didn’t give her a second thought, unless it was to take something from her. Tav scolded herself every time she found herself looking at him too long or when she thought she saw something softer underneath the shield of malevolence he wore. It was all just a game to him, she told herself, like it was to most vampires. 

After everyone had gone to bed, Tav finally snuck out to wash her clothes at the lake and go for a dip in the water. She wasn’t a prude – she had bathed many times with the women, but sometimes she just desperately needed a moment to herself. Even for something as silly as scrubbing the stains of her cycle out from her pants. She finished cleaning up and made her way back to her tent, dismayed that her fresh cloth was already getting ruined. Tav nearly jumped out her skin when she walked into her bunk and saw Astarion lying nonchalantly on her bedroll. 

“Are you mad?” she hissed at him. “You’re lucky I’m not human, or I would’ve had half a mind to stab you in the darkness.” 

“We both know you wouldn’t have been quick enough to,” Astarion drawled, sitting up. “You sorcerers leave much to be desired when it comes to your hand-eye coordination.” 

They looked at each other for a beat, both listening for any stirring sounds from the others. 

“Why are you here?” Tav demanded.

Astarion replied with a sly grin. “I happen to recall a certain somebody making the generous offer that if I ever got hungry, I could come to them.” 

Tav’s fingers combed through her damp hair as she reflected back on an offer she did indeed make.

“I did say that, yes,” she admitted. “But we can’t tonight. Not until I–”

She halted, a painful cramp pulsing through her.

“…Until I’m done with my bleeding. I’ve lost too much already, I’ll be too weak for you to feed on and Gods know if you end up draining me, you’ll have to wake a very cranky Shadowheart up.” 

Tav opened her tent and held her arm out, signaling for him to get out. “We can revisit this in a few days. I’ll let you know when.” 

“Revisit? What, like we’re discussing tactical advances?” Astarion bristled with frustration as he stood up.

"My dear, I don't believe you grasp the... gravity of the situation. Your scent–“ He accused, his tone growing more intense. "–has been tormenting me for hours. It has taken every ounce of restraint in my being to resist the urge to drag you away from the others and drink until I’ve drowned in your blood. I am utterly and maddeningly ravenous.”

Her hand faltered from the tent flap, closing them in the obscurity of her tent again.

“It won’t have to hurt like usual.” His pupils dilated wildly as he inched closer. Astarion looked feral. “No biting required. I’d hate to waste precious resources.” 

Tav’s face paled when she realized what he was suggesting. She didn’t think she was comfortable with the idea, and yet a warmth started blooming through her.

“And it might provide a distraction from the pain in your belly,” he hummed, latching her tent shut. “I’d say this benefits the both of us.”

“Who’s the pragmatic one now?” Tav answered, her toes tingling. It was a very bad idea, she told herself, way too intimate for what she originally offered.

But when Astarion kneeled down, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns up her thighs before he pressed a gentle kiss against her abdomen, and whispered, "Please, darling," she made up her mind.

It was the sensible thing to do. In fact, she reasoned with herself, if she gave Astarion perfectly acceptable, readily available blood now, she wouldn't have to put herself through any more bites for a while. His intense gaze met hers as he looked up, his eyes filled with a potent mix of hunger and desire. His nails gently scraped against the back of her knees, willing her to answer him.

“Be quick about it,” she finally relented.

Astarion wasted no time. He turned her around and pushed her onto her bedroll, tugging at the waistband of her pants, shimmying them over her knees. He fingered at the sides of her underwear, leaning down to kiss the top of her navel.  Tav’s insides fluttered from the sensation of him peppering her from top to bottom. His nose pressed against the dampness of the fabric and she nearly blacked out of embarrassment from the deep inhale he took. 

“You smell intoxicating,” Astarion groaned. “Like the very essence of temptation.” He nearly ripped her bottoms off, throwing them to the ground thoughtlessly along with her soiled rag. His cold breath tickled against her. "It's like I'm a moth drawn to a burning flame. I didn't know it was possible for you to smell even more enticing," he said, genuine bewilderment coloring his tone.

“No need to provide commentary…” Tav mumbled, averting her gaze.

Astarion pushed her legs up over his shoulders, spreading her thighs apart to reveal her slick mound. She started to drip with arousal, a stark contrast to the inky blood that painted her folds. 

“Like honeyed fire, so rich and delicious it ensnared me. I felt it – tasted it – in my throat before I came anywhere near you.” 

He dipped the tips of his index and middle fingers to spread her apart, dragging his tongue in one icey, long lick. The chill, a shock to her core, made her twitch as he licked her agonizingly slow from clit to tailbone. He lapped around her inner thighs, nipping at the flesh, forcing a shiver up her spine. Astarion let out a noise when she involuntarily jerked her body against his face, thighs clenching around his head. He swirled his tongue all around, his nose grazing her nub. 

“Oh,” Tav moaned. Her eyes widened in alarm at the unapproved noise, as if it was an admission of weakness, but it only seemed to encourage him to tongue her faster. Biting down on her knuckle was the only way for Tav to suppress the noise that threatened to spill from her mouth as he ate her like a savage animal having its final meal. The sounds of him lapping up and down at her cunt was obscenely erotic, and she felt herself dripping another gush of blood and arousal into his mouth. He slid his tongue as far as he could inside her slit, attempting to clean her inner walls from the nonstop trickle of blood.  She felt his thumb move to her clit to stroke it in slow circles and another whine fell from her mouth. 

Why didn’t he just get his fill and leave? What was the point of toying with her? Tav needed Astarion to stop, she thought foggily. 

He slurped up as much as he could of her blood, then shifted his attention on her swollen clit. Her legs shook against him, threatening to drop, but he kept her up like she weighed nothing. Tav finally mustered up the courage to look down at Astarion, and he must’ve sensed it, as his blown out eyes met hers. She gasped at the sight, her slickness painting his face so beautifully her cunt practically purred in response. 

“Please.” 

Her desire and uncertainty tangled in that one word. She wasn’t sure what she was pleading for. For him to go? To continue?

Astarion responded with a muffled, guttural groan. Her heels dug into his shoulder blades, urging him on, while his lips locked around her clit with a hunger that left her gasping. He suckled her so desperately that his teeth brushed against her, causing her legs to unconsciously spread further, surrendering to the feeling. Tav didn’t know how long they stayed like that; with Astarion dragging his tongue through her slick folds, alternating between frenzied licks and focused suctions on her clit. Before she knew it, an intense orgasm washed over her, prompting a bite on her own fingers to stop her from keening.  She yelped when she broke skin and her fingers shot to his curls as her sex throbbed. But Astarion didn’t stop – he had gone back to tasting her in lazy, drawn out strokes. 

“It’s sinful,” he muttered against her flushed skin. “It's divine.”

Tav pulled at his hair, hoping he would come off from her, hoping he would leave then.  “You’ve not had your fill?” she croaked.

“I would lay here drinking from you all night until I fell asleep, if I had my way. ” 

She watched him lick the inner corners of her thighs, fangs grazing against her flesh, threatening to bite down. Astarion moved up, trailing kisses under her belly button, then maneuvered her legs around his hips. His hands slid up her sides, scrunching Tav’s top up to show just a hint of her breasts, nipples hardened against the sheer fabric. He pulled away, baring a sharp smile, hair disheveled, teeth smeared with her blood, then pressed his clothed cock against her.  “You can stop your little charade now.” 

Before Tav could reply, he caught her lips in a deep kiss, rutting against her in his strained pants. The comedown from her orgasm had caught her with dull inhibitions as she couldn’t help but return the kiss, tasting her fluids on her tongue, coppery and vaguely salty. Tav couldn’t say she shared his sentiment regarding her blood, but she didn’t pull away, brain spiked with his tongue in her mouth. 

“Let me love you,” Astarion whispered tenderly.

Tav suddenly jolted, breaking out of her spell. She pushed at his chest, her body straightening like a lance.  She seethed with frustration. “Get off.” 

He stiffened, pulling away to meet her glare. “Did I do something wrong, my sweet?” 

“Enough with the fucking pet names,” she practically spat. “You don’t owe me. You don’t have to pretend to want me. I didn’t lie when I said I wanted to help you, so don’t lie to me and recite sonnets and play pretend lover. ” 

He peeled himself from her, and for once, Astarion didn't respond with a quip or a sly remark.

“I… see. I didn't mean to upset you.” 

Her expression softened, though she couldn't help but feel that if Astarion had wanted to pursue it, he would make a great actor. But Tav didn’t want to put herself through a show, no matter how much she had wanted to watch it. 

Tav sighed, her throat feeling parched as she spoke. "It's alright," she murmured, avoiding his gaze while she reached for her pants. “You know, sometimes, people just want to help you. Because they care about you, and they don’t expect anything back.” 

“Everybody wants something.” Astarion remarked.

“You’re right,” Tav acknowledged quietly, nestling herself in her bedroll and turning over. “I want to get some sleep. Good night, Astarion.” 

** 

Halsin's warning about the Shadow Cursed Lands had been clear: it would be a wasteland where even the animals would be too ghoulish for Astarion to feed on.

So for the rest of their journey towards Gymforge and beyond, Astarion gorged himself on as many creatures as he could. Bats, cave goats, owls, giant lizards – everything was fair game. He even contemplated the bulette at one point, but it smelled awful. He drank from anything and everything that moved, all in an effort to stave off the need to ask Tav for her blood. He didn't want to risk upsetting her again. Astarion was still a wanted man, and as long as she tolerated him, he was safe from Cazador.

Though he was satiated on animal blood, it was like eating plain porridge multiple times a day—nourishment, yes, but completely devoid of pleasure. But that was fine; Astarion didn’t want to grow used to Tav, he was disturbed by the way his body reacted everytime he fed on her. 

After the last feeding, he left for his tent with an aching cock. He had tried to will it away, but Astarion had felt too drunk on delirious bloodlust. Back in his bed, he tugged at himself feverishly, in need of the release that was denied to him. Her smell, taste, body – everything, everything about Tav made him throb with desire. It was only logical, a primal urge, nothing more than that. He had, after all, succumbed to the pleasures of the flesh in the past, no matter how unwilling. 

He understood all too well that the body could respond even when the mind wasn't fully present.

And yet, Astarion remained restless at night. When they all retired to their beds, his mind inevitably turned to think of her. He couldn’t shake the memory of how she ran hot against his bone cold body, hugging him like a furnace. His longing for her went beyond the hunger for her blood, and that realization left him uneasy, causing him to distance himself even more from her. However, he stole glances at her from time to time. Sometimes it happened when they gathered around the campfire for supper, sharing plans and stories. Astarion was particularly drawn to her smile, so sweet that her eyes wrinkled at the corners. He couldn't ignore the knot that twisted in his stomach when he saw her smile for anyone else.

"What will everyone do when this is all over?" Tav asked on one of the rare evenings when everyone remained awake.

“Whatever Lady Shar calls for me to do,” Shadowheart answered with determination.

Lae’zel scoffed dismissively. “Chk. It’s a waste of time to ponder.” 

“Well, I miss my Tara terribly,” Gale confessed sadly. “First thing I do, I would like to see her immediately.”

Karlach leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “Aw man… at least you have someone to return to!” 

Wyll flashed a grin at her. "You could always join me, Karlach. We could be the Blades of the Frontiers together, dispensing justice across the land of Faerûn." He dramatically extended his arms to illustrate the vision. Karlach smiled in response. "I'll hold you to that, soldier."

"I'm afraid the grove needs a fresh start without me," Halsin admitted. "I have a feeling I'll be required elsewhere, though I'm not entirely certain where."

Tav flicked her eyes to Astarion and then looked away while she spoke. “I should hope that no matter where we end up, that we all see each other every once in a while.” She rubbed at her arms and then laughed. “Gods, I know I sound so sentimental. But I’ve grown to truly like you crazy fuckers. And it’s going to be really hard to relate to people after this.” 

“You can say that again,” Wyll agreed. 

Astarion hummed, raising his wine goblet with a flourish. "Don’t fret, my dear friends. I’ll host the most extravagant of parties each season in my grand, opulent palace, and you’ll all be my honored guests. I'll personally hunt you down if you fail to attend or neglect the dress code."

“Hear hear!” Karlach cheered. They clinked their glasses together and Astarion’s breath caught when he saw the corners of Tav’s lips curling up. She was smiling at him. And his cold, dead, unbeating heart felt like it had swelled up so large he thought it might burst out of his chest. 

Fuck, Astarion thought. 

** 

The Last Light Inn was a welcome respite for their weary bodies. Each of them had their own rooms with real beds, and they had all ran to claim their rooms. 

However, as usual, trouble had a knack for finding them. Barely an hour into their stay, they were attacked, though they did manage to defend the inn and its people. Tav sat down hours later on a barstool in the tavern, tossing a coin to a tiefling child who was doubling as the barkeep. The little one handed her a mug, only filled halfway, and she chuckled to herself.

"Guess I won't be drowning my sorrows tonight.” 

She took out her journal and went over her notes. There was so much to keep in mind, so much to go over. Tav scribbled away for an hour or two, and as the common area gradually emptied with everyone retiring to their rooms, she remained absorbed in her journal until a familiar voice broke the silence. “You’re up late.” Tav looked up, finding Astarion standing at the edge of the dimly lit hallway. It had been a while since they had been in the same vicinity as each other alone, and she couldn’t help but feel nervous at the sight of him. He made strides to move towards her, stopping only to stoop down and give His Majesty a little scratch behind its ears.

"Says you," she replied. "Though... well, vampires are nocturnal, aren't they?" 

"Well actually, I’ve grown to quite enjoy watching the sunrise." Astarion said as he grabbed a cup from behind the counter. “Can’t wait to get out of this wretched place. I’m afraid the real reason I’m still up is a bit more mundane—I'm feeling a bit on edge." 

He dipped the mug into a barrel of wine and raised an eyebrow at her disapproving look. "What? Free ale is the least we deserve for saving this sorry little inn from destruction." 

Tav couldn't argue with that. She scooted over on her stool to make room for Astarion, and he joined her without a word. Astarion drank and she wrote in her book and they didn’t say anything to each other; it was a comfortable silence, one they both needed. After a while, Tav couldn't stifle a yawn, her eyes bleary from exhaustion.

"If you yawn any more, I'm going to have to toss you into your room," Astarion remarked dryly, his fingers curled around his fourth glass of wine. "You should get some rest."

She looked at him and noticed his cheeks were gaunt. There was no luster to his appearance, and he appeared more tired than she felt on the inside, likely due to a lack of nourishment. Tav had been waiting for him to ask to feed ever since they stepped foot into these cursed lands, but he never sought her out. There were no animals out in these lands, and most of the people they killed were tainted. Unless one of the others felt like offering, he was short on fuel. Astarion was probably starving, and that’s why he was restless.

Maybe she had been too harsh with him. Tav had been the one to offer blood in the first place, and then she had to go and make things awkward with her outburst. A pang of guilt washed over her.

“You too,” Tav replied. “You honestly look a little awful.” He tensed at the comment and she hurried to add: “You’re hungry. When was the last time you ate?” 

With a subtle lick of his lips, Astarion brushed off her concern. “I'm perfectly fine. I'll feast on some True Souls once we reach Moonrise, and you'll see, I'll be right as rain.”

"You're obviously not fine, Astarion," Tav insisted. "I'm not a stranger. I know you."

His eyes searched hers like he was looking for something, a certain melancholy to them that she couldn’t parse out. Then the look vanished, replaced by an empty expression. 

“I don’t think you do.”

She almost believed a few times he cared for her, in his own way. But it was clear now that her original instinct had been correct: it really had been a game for him, and now Astarion was so bored of her, he’d rather starve. Tav knew that if she were smart, she would feel relieved that he no longer wanted to use her, that he had backed off. But all she felt was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

**

Astarion still grieved for his past life, but any memories of family, lovers, or friends remained lost to him. At times, he preferred it that way. Ignorance, after all, had its virtues. Caring for others meant extending a piece of yourself to them, one you often couldn’t get back, and that was a risk he didn’t want to take. Not when he so desperately needed to care for himself. What was so bad about being selfish, he wondered. Astarion couldn't afford to put himself second, not after everything he had been through.

He had come into this world alone, suffered alone, and he would depart this earthly realm alone. 

The second night at the inn, Halsin had gone to find Thaniel, leaving the rest of them to defend his portal while they awaited his return. They hadn't expected the overwhelming forces drawn to destroy it. Wave after wave of undead assailants descended upon them, and they found themselves severely outnumbered.

Tav, determined to protect the portal, was casting a wall of stone when a wraith suddenly teleported and slashed at her, breaking her concentration. Her cry pierced the chaotic battle, and Astarion whipped around at the sound. She crumpled to the ground, clutching her stomach in agony.

"No, no, Tav! Get up, damn you!" Astarion shouted. Without hesitation, he lunged forward with his daggers and tore into the wraith until it dissipated into a shadow of smoke. 

"The portal—" Tav choked out, blood spluttering from her throat. He knelt down and pulled her up against him.

“Fuck the portal,” Astarion grit his teeth. “Shadowheart!” 

Shadowheart, engrossed in protecting Karlach and Lae'zel from cursed Harpers trying to break through, couldn't hear him. He yelled for Shadowheart again, but her attention remained focused on the women. Tav had made a promise to Halsin to keep the portal open, and the others were determined to honor that promise. Astarion cursed them all.

As he looked down at Tav, he saw her eyes dimming, her hand outstretched towards the portal. 

She mouthed, "Halsin."

The druid had come back with the child. 

Astarion would’ve turned back time and seen Halsin dead and the Shadow-Cursed lands forever damned if it meant that he would never again have to feel the fear that struck his heart when Tav went slack in his arms.

** 

“She’ll be alright,” Shadowheart assured, the back of her palm against Tav’s forehead, feeling for her temperature. “She just needs some rest.” 

Astarion had been pacing at the end of Tav's bed, unable to leave her side since their return to the inn. "How long?”

“Can’t say. Maybe a few hours.” Shadowheart put the rest of her scrolls and potions away into her bag. “She’s tougher than she looks, Astarion. Don’t worry too much.”

“I’m not worried,” Astarion huffed, fixing his face to a smooth nonchalance. “But… I’ll stay here with her. Just in case. You should get to bed. You know, vampire and all, we're creatures of the night and whatnot.” 

Shadowheart gave him a knowing look before she left.  “Let me know if she still feels poorly.” 

Astarion quietly pulled a chair closer to Tav's bedside, taking care not to stir her. As he sat there, he wondered what he would say when she woke up. He hadn't planned beyond his initial rush into her room. Hours passed, marked by the gentle rise and fall of her breathing and he never got up from his seat. The exhaustion of the day slowly overcame him and though he tried to fight it, Astarion drifted off into a trance.

Tav woke up after some time, groggy and disoriented. After she checked her body and found nothing out of place, she blinked a few times, surprised to find Astarion sitting nearby.

“No,” Astarion mumbled, his fingers gripping the armrest of his chair. “No. I'll never come back.” 

In his nightmares, Cazador taunted him — to his master, he was akin to a mere child who had simply gotten carried away with the infantile joys of freedom. His relentless pursuit haunted him through the forest, and no matter how far into the void Astarion ran, he could still hear him. Oh, how foolish of him to dream of a life that was his own — he would never escape. No matter how far he fled, Cazador would inevitably find him...

"Please, no, Master —" he cried out.

Tav reached her hand out to gently cover one of his. "Astarion," she said, her voice soft and soothing, despite her sore throat. 

His eyes fluttered open, the rims around them inflamed, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. 

"Cazador," he sputtered, still caught in the grip of his night terrors. 

"You're safe. He's not here," she reassured him, trying to withdraw her hand, but he held it firmly. "You were having a bad dream."

Astarion nodded. “Yes.” His eyes closed as took a deep inhale, calming himself from the remnants of his nightmare. “I didn’t intend to wake you.” 

“No, no, it’s okay. I woke up on my own.” Tav replied, her expression equally laced with concern and suspicion. “Um. Is something wrong? What are you doing here?”

Astarion was quick with his answer. He didn’t want to tell her that, no, actually, he had gone sick with worry and had practically barked at everyone to clear the way as he rushed into the inn with her injured body. “Everything is fine. We just wanted to make sure you were alright. Everyone else is asleep right now.”

“I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings,” Tav frowned apologetically. “I didn’t mean to worry you all. But Halsin came back with Thaniel, didn’t he?” 

He scowled, recalling how his forehead vein nearly burst when Halsin confirmed that Thaniel was of no use until they located his missing half. "I could've strangled Halsin for taking as long as he did. All for some comatose child."

Her eyes bore into him. “I would’ve gone through the pain a thousand more times to help Halsin cure this land. You can’t blame him for anything.” 

Tav was light and goodness and hope and everything Astarion was not and he wanted to throttle her and tell her that this miserable, revolting world didn’t deserve her. 

“I can, and I will. But thankfully, you’re okay. No need for anyone’s head to roll.”

“Ugh. You are so dramatic,” she laughed, her hand splaying under him. His finger rubbed a circle on the back of her palm. Then she paused, and they stared at each other, and Astarion almost shrank from the intensity of her gaze. “I appreciate you watching over me. I’m good, really. I can take it from here. You can go now.” 

“If that’s what you want,” he replied. 

”I…” She hesitated, her eyes shifting slowly between his, searching for something in them. "What do you want?"

Tav had asked Astarion this question once before, and he had delivered his answer, every word rehearsed and refined countless times with various people.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he confessed. His eyebrows furrowed as he pushed himself to continue. "I… want to free myself from my constant thoughts of you.”

An unfamiliar tightness gripped his throat. Astarion had always thought of her softness as a horrible weakness, but now, with Tav before him, he understood that to be soft was a terribly difficult thing to do.

“I want…” he continued, voice barely above a whisper. “... to kiss you.” 

Tav echoed his previous response. 

"Well, if that's what you want."

He was careful, the way he rose to caress her cheek, and agonizingly slow as her lips parted and his cold thumb brushed against them. Astarion closed the gap and pressed a kiss on her, so gentle he thought he only imagined doing it. He tilted her head up, the kiss deepening with a swift graduation of intensity that made Tav cling to him as if he were the only solid thing in her dizzying world. 

This was different, Astarion marveled — this felt like undeniable need.

“I can’t summon up any clever words,” Astarion breathed against her lips. “Just that I want you.” 

“Then shut up for once and have me.” She twined her arms around his neck and his tongue glided past her lips to taste her, eliciting a sound from her that redirected all the blood in Astarion’s body in a sweet rush. Every movement of her lips sent a jolt through his body, fanning the blaze that was shared back and forth between them. 

How maddening was it, that one second Astarion was afraid to falter, and the next she reduced him to desperation.

He devoured her with tongue and teeth, pushing her back into the mattress, only stopping when it felt like they would die from lack of oxygen. Astarion broke away from her embrace, peeled his shirt off and hurled it to the ground, then tugged at her pants; she clumsily arched herself up to help him strip her clothes off. Next was her top, then her underwear; his eyes swept over her, committing every detail and every curve to memory. 

“You, my little dove, truly are a vision.”

Tav laughed with embarrassment, but her laughter dissolved into a moan as Astarion's lips met hers. She kissed him like she was untangling him, and he kissed her like he wanted to own her from the inside out. Then she gasped, the sound shooting straight to his cock. “I’ve wanted you. Everytime. But I was scared.”

He groaned and released her from his mouth, then captured her lips in his again. Astarion had never wanted so hopelessly to see someone come undone under him. 

“I know darling. I’m always right,” he chuckled against her lips, the arrogance hiding the relief he felt. She tsked at him and his fingers gently wrapped over her throat, as the other hand thumbed at her lips. “I’m jealous of your neck,” he mused. “It gets to hold your lovely head up, when it could be my hands instead.” 

It was sickening, Astarion thought, how unbelievably, excruciatingly hard he was, and he had barely even touched her. Tav watched him curiously, her eyes raking over his body with lust.  “I want to taste you,” she pleaded breathlessly. “Let me.” 

“Not tonight,” he said simply, wanting nothing more than to see her pretty lips wrap around his cock and to see her struggle for air. But he’d be lying if the simple act of denying her didn’t turn him on. Astarion prodded at her lips with his fingers, knocking at her teeth, slipping two into her mouth. “You can work for that.” 

She opened her mouth without further complaint.  He pressed down on her tongue and she sucked as he slowly twisted his fingers around. Astarion lowered a trail of kisses down her face, peppering her jaw, neck, collarbones, the dip between her breasts. Then, he took his spit slicked fingers out with a plop, saliva trailing out from her lips, before moving down to spread open her wet folds. Tav was dripping with arousal, eyes fluttering in anticipation of pleasure, and Astarion thought he’d like to keep her like this forever. He pinched at her clit then rubbed firm and slow; her hips twitched against him, silently asking for him to go faster, harder, anything, to make her cum. 

But Astarion wasn’t going to let her, he had never intended to let her cum – at least not yet, it was too soon, not when he wanted to unravel her more.

“Get on your knees for me, darling.”

Tav had no choice but to roll over and prop herself up on her elbows. She looked back at him, her eyes glassy with frustration. He could barely hold himself together to whisper sweet nothings into her back, something that had been so vile to do before and so easy to do now. Astarion ached to have her: anywhere, in every position, in every possible way, to mark her and make it so that everyone would know that Tav was his to have. 

He tried to shake away the obsessive thought but it burned through him so deeply that it nearly pushed Astarion to rage. His kisses dragged lower and lower until his hands squeezed at the undersides of her ass. Astarion spread her thighs apart and opened her up like ripe fruit with his thumbs, watching her drool drip down her folds. He lapped his tongue up from her glistening folds to her rim and Tav’s knees buckled under the sensation.   

Astarion wasn’t just eating her out, he was tonguefucking her; he delved deeper, groaning against her as she pushed back into his face and her musk clouded his mind. The taste of her constant, dripping wetness was intoxicating, second only to her life-giving blood. It threatened to drown Astarion, like a violent wave crashing at the shore of his senses. 

He snaked in and out of her puckered hole, back to her cunt, everything growing slick and sloppy and sensitive, wet sounds mixing with moans spilling from both of them. The contrast of the cold of his tongue and the hotness of her cunt was exquisite, and he thought Tav deserved the gift of his fingers again. His index and middle fingers slid through to part the lips of her sticky cunt, then disappeared, quickly thrusting in and out of her. 

“I need–” She made a strangled sound before she buried her face into her pillow, not wanting to make any more noise should the rooms next door hear.  Then, she nearly sobbed at the sudden loss of his lips against her, though his fingers were still deep at her base. He reached forward to tug at her hair abruptly, bringing her head up from the bed. 

“You need what?” Astarion feigned ignorance, not slowing down the pace of his fingers fucking in and out of her. Tav reached down with her hand to press against her clit, grinding her palm flat against her pubic bone. She humped against her hand and back into his fingers, again and again until he released her hair and snatched her hand and held it against her back as he buried a third finger into her cunt. 

“Fuck, Astarion.” 

The way Tav cried out his name made Astarion want to drag this out, to deny her the way she had done to him for so many weeks. Until she was a sobbing, pleading, pathetic mess. He pressed a wet kiss against her cunt and barely held back a wicked smile when she shook as his fingers curled, pulling and pushing in her.

“Sorry pet, I can’t hear you.” 

“Fucking...“ Tav grit her teeth, her temper rising when she realized he was playing with her. “All this time you've been accosting me and now you want to tease?"

"Little known fact about me, I'm actually hard of hearing in one ear," he lied, pushing a fourth finger into her squelching cunt. Tav pushed her face into the pillow and groaned in frustration, before picking her head back up, choking out the words.

"Astarion, I need you to fuck me." 

“Oh,” he replied, like the answer hadn’t been so obvious. “All you had to do was use your words.”

He withdrew his fingers from her. Tav strained her head to see him tugging his pants down, cock springing out, beautiful and veiny, precum leaking and turned on to the point of agony. Astarion gave himself one firm stroke from root to tip and back. She bumped against him, but he pushed her back down and dragged the tip through her cunt. 

“So wet.” He slid the head between her slick folds, rubbing up to her clit, and back down. Again and again, each time dipping closer to where she needed him most in a torturously unhurried pace. “You’re always so wet for me, aren’t you, my sweet?” 

She moaned an agreement into the bed and ground herself against him, hard enough that Astarion felt relief all around his painfully erect cock. It was truly difficult to stop himself from fucking her deep into the mattress, but the novelty of how much he enjoyed seeing her squirm under him was too new, too enthralling.

“Looks like you enjoy the pet names after all.” 

“Astarion,” Tav cried, rutting desperately on his cock. She looked like she would either break down in tears or hit him. He thought he would enjoy either option. 

Astarion flipped her over on her back and summoned the best of his self control to kick off his pants. Then he kissed her deeply and pushed in, slowly, stretching her out; mesmerized by the needy look on her face and the way her lips parted in a gasp. He wanted to savor this, to paint a picture in his mind to look back on in case it never happened again, but it only lasted a few seconds before Tav wrapped her legs around his waist, willing more of him into her. 

“Tav,” Astarion stuttered, grabbing hold of her hips roughly. “Cheeky little pup — so desperate.”

He slowly dragged out of her until only the tip of his cock was left, holding her legs apart so he could admire the view of her taking the entirety of his length as he pushed back in leisurely. 

“Astarion, fuck me, please, I can’t breathe until you do.” 

Would he ever tire of his name being used like a prayer? Astarion growled in response, pulling and burying himself at the hilt of her cunt. Then he fucked her faster - the pace brutal and unrelenting - and her walls clenched so tight around him that it hurt, a smooth and velvety pain along his cock. When Tav’s eyes rolled back he freed a hand to grab her throat, forcing her to look at him.

“I would tear myself open limb from limb if you could only see the mess you’ve made of me,” he panted. 

Tav choked around his fingers, unable to reply, eyes wide in disbelief; Astarion released her throat to grip the back of her thighs and pin her knees to her chest with bruising strength. He lost himself, he didn’t stop moving, didn’t let up. Fucking her felt both sacred and like sacrilege, like being eviscerated by divine rapture, like something he simply didn’t deserve. He would have chained himself down at her altar and would've ripped through his own ribcage with his bare hands to offer his lungs as sacrifice if that's what she demanded. 

“Yes, it’s so good, Astarion—” Tav babbled incoherently under him, her breasts jiggling with each thrust. “You’re so good. So fucking good.” 

Astarion lurched forward with a groan and buried his face into her juncture between her neck and shoulder, inhaling sharply as his nose nudged at her fading wound. It was wholly unnatural to resist biting her, but he did. He wasn’t good, he had probably never been good in any lifetime. But he wanted to be – would try to be – if that’s what she wanted. Astarion fucked her to the ragged rhythm of his name, hard and deep and devastating, hissing everytime her walls flexed and gripped around him. 

“Bite me,” Tav begged, her arms sliding around him, one slipping into his hair and the other clawing at the scarred skin of his back. “You don’t have to ask. Never.” 

Astarion wavered, but only for a second. His teeth dragged over her skin like the point of a knife and she leaned into it, the pounding of her heart echoing in Astarion’s ears. Tav let out a needy pant of encouragement when he sank in, nothing careful or gentle about his bite. Hot pulsing blood rushed into his mouth; it poured into every vein in his body, exploding everywhere at once.

Tav thrashed under him, threading her fingers through his curls and holding him in place.  He drank and sucked until the skin underneath him spurted so much blood that it spilled out past the corners of his mouth, drenching their chests as they rocked against each other. He dragged a finger through the rain of blood and when it was coated he smeared it on her swollen clit, working frenzied, clumsy circles on it. His arm grew tense with the speed and intensity of it but he didn’t stop. Tav’s sopping wet cunt sucked him in messily in the silence and a dark satisfaction curled through Astarion’s gut, knowing that it was impossible to not hear them throughout the inn.

“You’ll be my undoing,” he told her, less of a statement and more of a promise. Astarion kissed her through the film of blood that coated the inside of his mouth, wet and metallic and sweet. He groaned when she licked the taste of her off his lips and he fucked into her like an animal, spurred on by the cries she tried and failed to stifle. When Tav came, she clamped down so blindingly tight on Astarion’s cock that an orgasm ripped from his body forcefully, shooting through him and spilling into her as deeply as her cunt would allow. 

**

"You'll stay here?" Tav's words were a barely audible request, masked as a question. The persistent voice that had carved out an unwelcome home in his brain urged him to get up and leave. But Tav curled around him like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he couldn’t find the strength to listen. 

Maybe she would ruin him. Maybe they’d consume each other. Maybe he’d wake up in the morning and pretend tonight never happened. Or maybe some things just burned brighter in the wake of destruction. Astarion was drawn to the fire now, even if it meant risking his wings. 

Astarion pressed a gentle kiss to her damp forehead and drew her closer to his chest. Tav hummed a satisfied sigh, the heat from her body radiating and wrapping him like the thickest blanket in the dead of winter. In that fleeting moment, he wondered if there was a way to bottle her warmth and tuck it away for his loneliest hours.

He chose to settle for a simple truth.

“Yes.” 

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

For All I Care

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Asexual!Tav, Astarion x Bard!Tav

Astarion's POV, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Astarion being bad with emotions, hints of one-sided Gale x Tav if you squint

Warning: Canon typical violence, violent thoughts toward Tav

Summary: After a fight with a hag, the rest of the party wakes up to find you still fighting for your life. Astarion feels himself at a loss, afraid and helpless in a way he has never felt before. And it's all your fault.

A/N: Just a gentle reminder that I have not played the game, so in terms of the exact placement on the timeline, it's a little sketchy. Just know that this is well before the events of I Want It All, and we'll call it good. And, as always, PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!

Word Count: 6.2K

If Astarion never saw a hag again, it would be too soon. Just one was more than enough for several lifetimes. The bitch was not only a sore to look at but hit like a brick wall. Even after a full night’s sleep aided by Shadowheart’s magic, he still felt stiff all over. 

The rest of camp wasn’t much better. The sun was almost fully overhead by the time everyone stumbled out of their bed rolls. All morning banter was replaced with mumbled greetings and not so subtle groans. Even Lae’zel remained quiet, seemingly too occupied with her own discomfort to comment on the weakness of everyone else. 

Astarion counted himself grateful for that. He didn’t think he could endure a lecture on top of an aching back. 

“Here we are,” Gale said, a little too cheerfully. “I know last night's excursion was rather strenuous, but if this doesn’t cure what ails you, nothing will. No offense, Shadowheart.” 

“I would take offense, but I’m frankly too tired to care,” she countered, dryly. 

Gale gave a good natured laugh before handing her a bowl of something hot. 

The pout on her face fell away as soon as she took her first bite. The rest weren’t far behind, the low murmur of pain turning to something more pleasant. 

Astarion observed, doing his best to push down the bite on envy in his chest. He could eat, technically, but it went right through him, not even granting him the temporary relief of a full stomach. If it didn’t smell appetizing, he wouldn’t mind so much, but it did. Yet another minor torture of his existence. 

Eventually Gale did turn his gaze to him, that annoyingly persistent enthusiasm faltering.

“Do you…ah, require a refreshment?”

Deciding to have some fun, Astarion gave him his best seductive smirk.

“Very much,” he purred. “However, if you’re the one offering, I’ll pass. I’ve got someone much more appetizing in mind.”

He turned his head towards your tent, and immediately frowned. You still hadn’t made an appearance. Granted you were always one to rest in, but this was getting ridiculous. 

Gale followed his eye line, grimacing as he came to a similar conclusion. 

“Might need to hold off on that. They got it pretty rough last night.”

“I’ll go check on them,” Wyll volunteered, pouring a fresh bowl of stew. “If anything will get them out of bed, this will.” He then turned to Astarion, giving him a hard look. “Try to keep your fangs to yourself until they’ve eaten something.”

He answered with a mocking pout. “Oh mother, must I?”

Wyll didn’t raise to the bait, rolling his one good eye before making his way towards your tent. 

Something odd twisted inside Astarion. He was struck with the sudden urge to trip the man. Childish perhaps, but he just couldn’t stand that tone of altruistic condescension. He would have spoken up if Wyll hadn’t beaten him to it. He was rather partial to the idea of you and him sharing breakfast in bed. It would only be breakfast, but he wasn’t in a position to try for more. At the very least, it would be a convenient excuse to check on you himself.

Gale hadn’t been exaggerating. You had gotten the brunt of the hag’s attention, running between everyone to provide whatever aid you could. By the time you made it back to camp, you could barely stand, skipping your nightly check-ins in favor of falling straight into your tent and a soundless sleep.

This troubled him in a way he couldn’t properly explain.  It wasn’t like he needed you to tuck him in, but he had grown accustomed to your face being the last he saw before closing his eyes. He knew the others appreciated it as well. It was how you had found yourself as the leader of this merry band. You weren’t the strongest or the most powerful, you simply took the time to care.

It should have bothered him more. Gods knew he clashed with Wyll and Karlach on more than one occasion concerning their bleeding heart heroics. Perhaps it was because your heart always put the party first. You’d extend it to others, but never to the point it needlessly put them and, more importantly, him in danger. 

You just…helped, with clear eyed understanding and so little fanfare it made it easy to forget just how much you did, until the moment you couldn’t. 

He blinked hard, mentally yanking himself from wherever his mind was leading him. 

He wouldn’t feed on you today, he decided. There had to be some boar or deer around. It’d be best if they stay put another day anyhow. No need to rush into the next life or death scenario.

“Shadowheart! Gale!”

Everyone turned, to see Wyll running from your tent. The two spellcasters were up the next second, all exhaustion rushing from their bodies, readying for a fight. 

“What’s going on?” Gale asked.

“I don’t know. Something’s wrong with Tav.”

“What? How?” Shadowheart interjected. “They were fine last night. I healed them myself.”

Wyll shook his head. “That may be, but they’re not waking up.”

“We better have a look then,” Gale said, with an authority that left no room for argument. He took the lead, the two others falling quickly behind. 

Astarion stayed where he was, frozen. There was a hard twisting in his gut. He could feel the hair rise on the back of his neck as the sudden need to run shot through his veins. He recognized the symptoms; fear was an emotion he was intimately familiar with.

Before he realized what was happening, he was on his feet, taking long strides towards your tent. 

It couldn’t be as bad as Wyll was making it sound. Admittedly, you had been run rather ragged, but nothing the rest of them hadn’t felt. Perhaps he had taken one bite too many. This was nothing. You were fine. You were supposed to be fine. 

He stopped at the threshold, pushing aside the flap. 

Whatever breath he had in his lungs rushed out in an instant. 

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It clung to the inside of his nose reeking of damp sickness. Your body was drenched in sweat, your hair plastered to your forehead in soaked clumps. He swore he could feel the heat of your skin burning. Your breath came ragged as if someone had wrapped an invisible hand around your throat and was slowly choking the life out of you. He could see how your body twitched and jerked. It was taking both Shadowheart and Wyll to keep your limbs in check as Gale mumbled some enchantment over your body. 

His hand gripped hard on the fabric. He needed to take a step back. He had little experience with disease, but it was plain enough that whatever this was didn’t play by any rules he was familiar with. The survivor in him screamed to use this perfect distraction to grab whatever he could carry and run. Still, he didn’t move. 

“What’s wrong with them?” he said, his voice rough even to his ears. 

“I don’t know,” Gale admitted, clearly disturbed. “I haven’t seen anything like this before.”

“They were fine,” Shadowheart insisted. “I healed them, and they went to bed. Nothing else happened.”

“There were a lot of spells being thrown around last night. Maybe they were hit with something the rest of us weren’t,” Wyll suggested. 

“Oh Gods,” Karlach said, just behind Astarion’s shoulder. “Do you think it’s the tadpoles?”

Something heavy sunk straight into his stomach at her words. It certainly was a possibility. They all knew the symptoms, but why now? Why you? 

There was a slight rustle of movement just behind him. Lae’zel by the smell. A quick look out of the corner of his eye saw her standing just behind Karlach. Her back was stiff and her expression hardened in a way he had come to recognize. 

He never moved faster in his life. 

Before anyone could react, he ducked under Karlach’s arm, knocking Lae’zel off her feet. Her sword scattered clear of her grip, skittering into the grass. She fell with a hard thump as he used the momentum to trap her under the weight of his body and dagger at her throat. 

“Now, what were you planning to do with that,” he said, as smooth as a knife. 

Her surprise was evident, but quickly overtaken by a low growl straight from her chest. 

“Unhand me, or I will unhand you.”

“Might need the sword for that.”

“Oi! What’s going on?” Karlach said, finally turning towards the scene. 

“If it is the tadpoles, we cannot risk them turning,” Lae’zel snapped. “I am prepared to do what is necessary.” 

Red blinded Astarion’s vision, a hiss escaping his lips as they pulled back to show bared fangs.

“Necessary?”

“We don’t know that yet,” Wyll said, stepping beside Karlach. “Just think a moment. If it was the tadpoles, wouldn’t all of us have felt something by now?”

Lae’zel ignored him, her eyes turning straight to Astarion’s. Her expression lost none of its fury, but there was a coldness to it that forced an air of calm. 

“You know I’m right,” she held. 

His jaw clenched. He did know. If even one of them turned into a mind flayer the rest were bound to follow. Killing you would be the logical thing to do to preserve his own survival. Still, it wasn’t your neck he was poised to cut. 

“Nobody is killing anyone!” Wyll interjected. “Gale and Shadowheart will figure out what’s wrong with Tav. In the meantime, we are not going to do anything we would sooner regret.”

“Astarion?” Karlach said, cautiously. 

There was a long pause. He could feel their eyes burning the back of his skull, but neither stepped closer. It was easy to imagine what he looked like; half crazed, teeth bared and blade ready. Not his best moment. 

With what grace he could muster, he pulled away, quickly putting some distance between himself and Lae’zel.

She got to her feet, decidedly not reaching for her weapon as her eyes moved between the three of them. 

“They live for now,” she allowed. “But if Tav does turn, you know what we’ll have to do.”

Astarion’s spine stiffened. The dagger twitched in his hand, just in time for Karlach to step between them.

“Walk away Lae’zel,” she said, sternly. “I’m not kidding.” 

Lae’zel’s brow furrowed, her face twisting in disgust. “Tsk'va,” she cursed. “Cowards. All of you.” 

She turned then, picking up her sword before making her way back to her tent. 

Once she was a good distance away, some of the tension left Karlach’s shoulders as she pulled her attention back to him. 

“You okay?” Karlach asked.

“Well, I certainly haven’t made any new friends,” Astarion said, his voice tighter than he intended. He glanced over at Wyll. “I take it still no answers?”

Wyll gave a long sigh. “Gale said he’ll need more time to detect the exact cause. He doesn’t think it’s the tadpoles, but there’s no telling just yet. Luckily, Shadowheart was able to calm them enough to sleep. At the very least they’re no longer at risk of hurting themselves.” 

“So what do we do?” Karlach asked. 

“Wait. This isn’t something we can fight. Gale and Shadowheart will do what they can, but ultimately, this is Tav’s battle.” 

Astarion bit back a growl as red once again danced across his vision. 

Wait? That was the fabled Blade of Frontier’s brilliant plan? Hells below was everyone in this camp completely useless?! He didn’t need to be a cleric to know what was happening. He knew what dying smelled like and none of them, not a single one, could think of an actual, tangible solution besides wait?

Forget tripping the man, it was taking every single ounce of restraint to keep from strangling him. 

Draining the last of his patience, he turned on his heel, and made his way towards the treeline. 

“Where are you going?” Wyll called. 

“To go kill something,” Astarion spat. “Unless you want me to stay here and do it.” 

Wyll looked like he was going to say something that would put his neck in Astarion’s teeth, but Karlach spoke up first. 

“We’ll make sure Lae’zel keeps her distance. Don’t wander too far.”

Astarion didn’t have an answer. He just managed a tight nod before continuing out of camp and out of sight. 

He didn’t know how long he walked. He just knew that by the time he stopped the sun was much lower in the sky. The sounds of his companions deafened in the overgrowth leaving him well and truly alone. 

A shuddering breath escaped his lungs. Whatever strength in his limbs left him. He only just managed to catch himself on a tree as his hands began to shake. 

What in the nine hells had he been thinking? 

Well, that was the trick, wasn’t it? He hadn’t been thinking. Fear had been driving him and he had done as he always did when fear took over; he found a way to survive, damn anyone who got in his way. The difference was, it wasn’t his life that was in danger. When had your survival become so vital to his? 

He knew he was reliant on you to keep him safe from Cazador. You were the only one who trusted him. Without your vote of confidence, chances are he would have been left to his own devices a long time ago. He needed you alive if he were to maintain the protection of the others. And he had put that protection in direct threat by holding a knife to one of the group’s best fighters. 

He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face in his hands. 

Fuck, this was a disaster. He had never been particularly gifted when it came to strategy. It was difficult to anticipate consequences when he never knew what fresh hell awaited him in the morning. Compound that feeling by two hundred years and it was no wonder all his plans fell apart. 

Even if you did survive, he still had no way of guaranteeing you would stay loyal to him. All his attempts at seduction had failed.  You certainly enjoyed his company, and he was sure you gave him more attention than the others, but he didn’t know what you wanted. Every single day he waited for you to name your price and every single day you failed to answer. It was driving him to insanity.  

No wonder he had been so quick to draw his blade. Any grasp he had on safety was already hanging by an invisible thread. 

He let out a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. There was little he could control at the moment, but he could control himself. It was a new sensation, one he was still getting used to. He’d have an easier time of it once he fed. 

Blood of thinking beings was out for the moment. He’d have to settle for something big and preferably angry. There would be nothing elegant about this hunt. 

He got his wish. While he might have preferred a bear, the raging boar did well enough for his purposes.

It was an ugly kill. He didn’t just bite the beast. He tore into its neck so deeply the bones of its neck became exposed to the open air alongside bloodied muscle. His hands did the rest, ripping it fully open so the innards spilled out onto the forest floor. In the end, he didn’t even get much blood out of it, allowing the earth to become wet with carnage. 

He breathed it in, hoping it would somehow erase the smell of your convulsing body from his mind. 

It didn’t work. 

Even with fresh blood in his mouth, he could only think of your labored breaths and racing heart. The relief of sated hunger became tainted by the taste of sickness on his tongue.

He forced himself back on his feet, not bothering to wipe away the blood as he stumbled further into the forest. 

There was nothing he could do. He’d sooner drain the life from you than save it. It was baked into his nature; a disease in his own right.  

If he just had a target, something he could trick or kill, it would be different. Instead he was left to wait; useless…powerless. 

His hands clenched, his nails digging into his palms to the point of pain. 

Surely he didn’t need you so badly. If you died, he would just have to refocus his efforts on somebody else; Shadowheart perhaps, or even Gale. He wasn’t about to get sentimental now. He would survive you as he had done countless others. This wasn’t his end.

He found a deer next, performing the same ritualistic slaughter. Blood filled him. He could feel his mind becoming clear, but it wasn’t enough. He moved onto a burrow of rabbits, then a badger, and even a weasel. It was only when he caught himself seriously contemplating gutting a squirrel did he realize how futile it was. All the blood in the world couldn’t make up for his inherent weakness. 

He had grown too dependent on you. It was making him sloppy, unbalanced. Maybe you were better off dead. He would be free then. 

That was the point of this whole venture wasn’t it? To be free. Free of Cazador. Free of fear. And here he was ready to chain himself to another just because they’d shown him a bit of kindness. What was that kindness worth when the loss of it inspired a terror he'd never known before.

A fury rose within him, one he clung to like a lifeline. 

This was all your fault. You brought him to this. How could he possibly forgive you?

He let the anger fester as he took the time to clean himself up. Blood caked his hands up to his elbows with tendons stuck under his fingernails. It took several washes in a nearby stream to get it all out. He counted himself lucky his shirt had managed to escape most of the viscera. The last thing he wanted was an interrogation. 

He needn’t have worried. It was well after dark by the time he crept back to camp. All was still, in the same way a body became when holding its breath. 

He spotted Gale easily enough as he poured over some tome, his lips moving along with the words. Lae’zel and Wyll sat together, polishing their weapons without exchanging a word. Shadowheart looked to be meditating while Karlach sat next to the fire, brow furrowed while throwing the occasional stick into the flames. 

Aside from the faint scrap of stone on metal, not a sound came from any of them. 

Against his own will, his gaze turned to your tent.

It struck him then, why the quiet filled him with such dread. 

By now a steady flow of strings should be teasing the edge of his ears. You seemed convinced a half inch of fabric was enough to muffle your rehearsals. None of them bothered to correct this assumption. On more than one occasion, he found himself forgetting the book in his hand as he listened to you work out some new melody. There was something about the way you played, as if each note lifted a burden on your soul. And if the night wasn’t filled with your music, it was touched by your voice. 

You had a way of sparking conversation, sharing countless stories while encouraging the others to do the same. You knew when to listen, when to comment and just when to laugh to make the telling all the sweeter. He spent more time than he cared to admit thinking about how to pull that sound to your lips. He found it had the same effect on him as your plucking.

Then there were the rare times, when banter dwindled and everyone became lost in their own thoughts, he could make out a song just under your breath, an unconscious hum to accompany your work. 

It brought a comfort he couldn’t describe, one he hadn’t realized he needed, until it was gone. 

With quick steps he made his way to you, slipping into your tent with not even the barest rustle of fabric.

He’d never been in your tent before. If it were any other day, he’d be taking the time to examine every inch of it, but all he could focus on was you. 

You were so still. An improvement from before, but not an especially encouraging one.  It was clear from the perfectly arranged pillows you hadn’t moved since Shadowheart put you back to sleep.  The only hint you were alive was that barest intake and outtake of breath.

His jaw tightened, his body tensing as a growing panic rose within him. 

No, this was good. You were stable, for now. He still had options, more time to plan. He didn’t have to make any decisions tonight. Best he left and waited to see what the morning would bring.

You took a sharp intake of breath, slightly deeper than before. Your eyes twitched behind your lids and then you settled.

He paused, glancing to the entrance, half expecting somebody to come rushing in.  He was surprised nobody was in here with you, or at the very least watching the door. He had slipped by without so much as a “hey you”. Any vagrant could just wander in. 

He could end it right now. All it would take was one quick slice. The picture became clear; a single surprised gasp, the smell of your blood and then…silence. Forever. 

Bile rose in his throat. He shut his eyes trying to will the image away as that new desperate terror threatened to drown him all over again.  

Damn you. Damn you to every circle of the hells! 

The gods were mocking him. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He couldn’t just like you. No, he had to go and start caring.  

A small whimper broke through his thoughts. Your head jerked, your brows pinching in distress. 

Shadowheart. He needed to get Shadowheart, or Gale, or Wyll. Hells, she may not be able to touch you, but Karlach would undoubtedly have a better bedside manner. Besides Lae’zel he was the worst person suited for this. Gods, what was he even doing here? 

You took a sharp intake of breath, flinching away from something only you could see. 

He was on his knees the next second. 

Your body settled, but your breathing came hard and fast. At least it wasn’t rasping. 

His hands hovered over you, unsure of what to do. He had officially given up on the idea of leaving. He’d just have to improvise the rest. 

Hesitantly, he let his fingers brush across your forehead, pushing aside a few of the loose strands. You were hot to the touch, but he took comfort in the fact you weren’t sweating as you were before. Whatever had taken hold of you that morning, it seemed to have loosened its grip. 

You began to calm, a soft murmur of contentment stumbling from your lips. 

The irony was not lost on him, but it didn’t stop a part of him from melting at the sound. 

“Now that’s hardly playing fair, darling,” he whispered. “I’m trying to be angry with you.”

You didn’t answer except for a sigh as you turned your head, following his touch. 

He allowed himself to linger for a moment before placing the back of his hand against your skin to feel it properly. You really were much too warm. The relief you were expressing no doubt came more from his body temperature than his caresses. 

Slowly, he pulled away as he glanced around the small space. There had to be a water skin in here somewhere. Surely the idiots would know better than to leave you to burn yourself from the inside out. 

A soft groan caught his attention as he spun back to you. 

You shifted under the blankets, rolling back and forth as if to get loose of your cocoon. Your eyes darted quickly behind your lids. Another huff of breath and then, all at once, there you were.

“Tav?” he breathed. 

Your eyes were bleary. Your skin was sallow. Your hair was a mess. Everything around him smelled of sweat and sick. And for a moment, he swore he could feel his heart beat again. 

A hint of a smile touched the corner of your mouth, your brows rising slightly. 

“Tav? Must be pretty bad then.”

He had to laugh. It was a short, strangled thing, and just about the only thing he could do to keep the stinging in his eyes at bay.

“Worse,” he said, managing to gain some hold on himself. “Of course, it must be said, your worse is most best.” 

You huffed out a small laugh of your own, which quickly turned into a series of dry coughs. 

He straightened in alarm before quickly spotting the water skin hanging on the center pole of the tent. Thankfully it was full, allowing him to waste no time lifting your head as he guided the water into your mouth. 

As soon as the liquid met your tongue you scrambled for more, pushing yourself further up to guzzle the rest. 

“Easy,” he warned, pulling back the container. “Can’t have you choking to death after all of that.”

You gave a slight sputter, proving his point as you caught your breath.  “Sorry. Just thirsty.” 

“Clearly,” he quipped. “Do you need more?”

You averted your eyes, your expression turning suddenly sheepish. “Please?”

As tempting as it was, he decided to save his teasing for later.  It was always more fun when you could give it right back anyway. 

He lifted your head, resting it on his lap before guiding the lip of the lid back to yours. 

“Slowly this time,” he cautioned.  

Your muscles tensed with restraint, but you followed his lead, taking no more than he gave. 

He tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. His mind flickered to his own thirst and, for a moment, he could see his own desperation reflected in your eyes. 

Something stirred inside him; an ache he didn’t recognize. He’d do just about anything to keep that look from marring your face ever again. 

Once you’d gotten a few more mouthfuls he pulled the water skin away, setting it down on the floor beside you. 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice still a little rough, but an obvious improvement. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “To anyone.”

“Don’t worry, nobody would believe me anyway,” you teased. 

“Truer words.” 

Without really thinking, he let his palm rest on your forehead. He had already gotten a sense of your temperature, but the way your eyes closed as you relaxed into his touch was too good to pass up.   

“How are you feeling?” he asked. 

“Like a band of goblins decided to make a riot of my insides,” you admitted, before turning your gaze upward. “What about you?”

“Me?”

Your mouth turned in an apologetic half smile. “No offense, but you look a bit ragged. Did something happen?”

He blinked, surprised by the sudden flash of anger your question inspired. Of course he was a bit ragged. You had started this morning on the verge of death, the knowledge of which had been torturing him for near on…oh, who bloody cared how long. And yet you had the audacity to ask if something happened, as if that wasn’t enough; as if you weren’t enough.  

It must have shown on his face, as your brows furrowed in concern. 

“Astarion?”

He mentally shook himself, pushing down the emotion as best he could. 

“Don’t worry about me, darling. Let’s focus on getting you better.” 

You frowned, your lips parting as if to say something when the entrance of the tent burst open. 

“Hey, thought I heard your voice!” Karlach said, with a beaming smile. “Good to see you awake soldier. Told’em you’d bounce back, just a matter of time. Shadowheart! Gale! Tav’s awake! Astarion is with ‘em.”

Astarion prickled at the announcement. He didn’t need the entire camp knowing his business. He had decided to sneak back for a reason. Surely nobody had seen him. 

He got his answer, as Karlach turned back, lowering her voice. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Noticed you slip in earlier. Thought I’d leave you to watch Tav, but then I heard talking and well…you know.” 

“Yes, thank you,” he clipped, hoping the note of embarrassment would be blamed on getting caught and not…other things. 

“Thanks Karlach,” you said, smoothing over any lingering tension. 

“Don’t even think about it. Few more rounds of healing and you’ll be right as rain.” She then turned her gaze to him. “You got’em?”

His brow furrowed slightly. He could say no. Gale and Shadowheart would need space to do their work. It would be the perfect excuse to walk away and try to forget any of this happened. 

He glanced down at you, your head still resting in his lap. 

You looked so fragile. It was a word he had never thought to use before when describing you. The sound of it rang with a dissonance that made his hair stand on end. Still you managed a half smile, your head tilting as silent permission to leave if he wanted. 

And what exactly would he do if he left; wait in the dark, just as helpless as before. He may not be able to do much, but he could do this. It was better than nothing. 

He turned back to Karlach, his purpose clear. “I’ve got them.”

She didn’t say anything back, simply nodding in acknowledgement before dipping out, and allowing Shadowheart and Gale to enter. 

Shadowheart immediately took a place beside you, her hands glowing with magic as she got to work. Gale, meanwhile, remained standing seemingly unsure of what to do. 

Astarion couldn’t help but notice the way the wizard’s eyes shifted awkwardly between you and him. Some petty part of him felt vindicated in staying. Apparently he had taken his designated spot. 

“Glad to see you awake,” Shadowheart said. 

“So am I, funny enough,” you said. “What happened?”

“Nasty bit of business,” Gale explained. “That hag didn’t hold anything back. Combination of cause fear, ray of sickness, a few other bits of spell work and bestowed curse to keep them all knotted together. The healing magic Shadowheart gave you last night was able to mend your physical wounds, but little else. 

“Luckily once we were able to identify the spells, I was able to untangle most of the effects and pluck that curse right out. All told, it looked much worse than it was. With the hag dead, it appears your body has been able to fight off most of the remaining effects on its own. Honestly, if you were at full capacity at the start of the fight, it likely wouldn’t have gotten as bad as it did. Much easier to recover when all your blood is inside your body.” 

Gale’s eyes flicked over to Astarion. 

His jaw clenched, knowing full well what the wizard was implying, but he wasn’t about to admit he was right. 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I take an arrow to the shoulder,” you said, dryly. “Just don’t bleed.”

Shadowheart gave a short laugh. “Good to see your sense of humor is intact.”

Astarion and Gale broke eye contact allowing whatever argument was about to ensue to die on their lips. There were more important things to worry about. 

“What can I say, I’m a born entertainer,” you said, ruefully before turning your gaze evenly among the three of them. “I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble.” 

“No trouble at all,” Gale assured. “When compared to Karlach’s engine or my own condition, this is little more than a sniffle.” He glanced over to Shadowheart. “Anything I can do?”

“Honestly, there’s not much even I can do at this point,” she admitted. “We’ll just have to see how you feel in the morning. One of us should stay with you at least, in case something happens.”

“I’ll do it,” Astarion said, earning shocked looks from both spellcasters.  He did so particularly love the look on Gale’s face. 

“You’re sure?” Gale said, skeptically. 

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not planning to sleep much anyway. And don’t worry, I’m just as capable of yelling as anyone else in this camp. Besides, I doubt either of you are going to be much use to anyone in a few hours.”

Gale looked like he wanted to argue, but not before you spoke up.

“He has a point,” you said. “The pair of you have done enough as is. I’m feeling a lot better already. I’ll be fine.” 

“Alright,” Gale relented, with a grimace. “There’s some stew in that container there if you get hungry. See if you can keep some food down. And if they so much as twitch in their sleep–”

“I’ll handle it,” Astarion cut off with a sharpness that left no room for dispute. 

Gale appeared taken aback. So did Shadowheart for that matter, but Astarion couldn’t bring himself to care. You had in a very polite, roundabout way told them to leave. His job was to make it clear how much better that would be for everyone’s health. 

Both Gale and Shadowheart got the message, ducking out without another word. 

Astarion waited, counting down a solid minute to make sure nobody else would come barging in. Only when he was certain they were gone did he finally allow his body to relax. 

“You don’t have to stay.”

He pulled his attention back to you, his brows furrowing. 

 “I really am feeling a lot better,” you insisted. “I’ll be alright.”

His instinct was to argue. He wasn’t in the mood for any more quiet heroics from you, but something in your eyes gave him pause. 

“Do you want me to go?” he asked. 

“I…” You swallowed. The emotion in your voice was clear even from that one word. “You don’t–”

“Do you want me to go?” he repeated. 

For a long moment, you didn’t say a word. 

He waited for the predictable guilt to appear, an obvious sign of your irritating selflessness with maybe an apology thrown in on the side. There were hints of it, yes, but something else lingered, moving across your features despite your best efforts to bury it away. 

“No,” you confessed, with a yearning deeper than he felt he had any right to know. 

He thought back on what you told him, the bits and pieces you shared about your life. It was never obvious, just comments that slipped through, as if by accident. 

You didn’t know your mother. Your father was little more than a memory. You never mentioned any siblings. A flurry of names and faces filled your stories from across Faerun, but they never stayed the same between tellings. Now that he gave it proper thought, he couldn’t think of a single one of them you had named friend. 

He had to wonder how many nights you suffered through a fever alone, how many times you bandaged your own wounds and kept your own company on long nights in the middle of nowhere. 

You hadn’t given him permission to go out of the kindness of your heart. You had expected him to. You just wanted to give yourself the illusion of control over when. 

And yet, you asked him to stay. 

“Well, that settles it,” he soothed. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Your lips parted as if to say something more, but you closed it again swallowing the words back down. 

He counted himself grateful. He was liable to say any number of foolish things if you let him. 

Slowly, your eyes began to droop as sleep overcame you once more. 

As promised, he didn’t move, not daring to so much as shift your head. 

Maybe…maybe this was your price. He couldn’t be sure. He doubted he would ever be sure of anything with you, but maybe this was what you wanted; somebody to care. 

It was a dangerous notion. He had never provided anything real before. The concern he felt for you now was against his will. If he started caring for you on purpose, who knew where that might lead; the things he would be willing to do, all for you. 

He blinked the thought away. He was getting ahead of himself. A little went a long way, especially with you. Honestly, it would be almost too easy; a kind word here, a helpful hand there, and he would have you curled around his finger in no time. It wasn’t so different from what he had done before. All he needed to do was not care anymore than he already did. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He could stop any time he wanted. 

It was the thought that kept him through the night, the one he repeated to himself as he came as close to holding you as he dared. 

He had a plan now. What could possibly go wrong? 

Taglist: @bambamwolf87

[meanbossart]

I've been loving the DU Drow as a companio asks, so I've got my own. I was wondering what kind of interactions he would have with the other companions.

More specifically, we know Astarion flirts with almost anyone (for his own reasons) and even sleeps with Bae'zel at the tiefling party if you turn him down as a player. So, since the Drow is in the group now, what would his interaction with Astarion be? Would Astarion assume him to be the strongest and best chance of survival if manipulated? Would Astarion try to sleep with the Drow the same way he would with Lae'zel?

(Regarding the companions in general) Oh I can easily see him and Shadowheart having some cute party banter, they'd poke light fun at each other and have a similarly "darkly dramatic" reaction to things. He'd easily be the most talkative with her, often initiating mundane conversations about stuff you find. I can see some dialogue between them triggering upon finding one of the many drink-stashes you come across where they discuss what they like best when it comes to wine - or what they think they like, at least, considering the state of their memories.

Gale would be eager to inquire him about drow and the underdark, and where he got his fighting prowess from, which would visibly annoy DU drow since he can't fucking remember anything LOL he'd comment about how he always thought male drow were supposed to be a little… Flimsier, prompting a response along the lines of "I suppose my mother must have fed me well. I do have quite the appetite for loud-mouths."

Gale's like :U my goodness. Point taken.

He might talk to Karlach about Avernus, being fond of the savage nature of it. He'd also ask her if "something's bothering her" and when she asks why he's asking, he comments on how she can never seem to be still for long LOL

If Jaheira joins the party later she takes an interest in him (I WONDER WHY) and they could also share a little friendly banter. DU drow ends up asking her things about Baldur's Gate and herself to fill the gaps in his memory, as well as her children. He expresses how, if he thought himself more fit for a father, he'd have some of his own. Jaheira tells him it's probably better this way.

The banter with Astarion would be pretty par for the course - a mix between being flirtatious in nature and a little passive-aggressive all at once. At some point he says he can't keep quiet about how he stinks of carrion - DU calmly tells him that it can't be helped, due to their circunstances, and that he has a pretty cadaveric perfume himself. Astarion gets offended and tells him he knows for a fact that he smells lovely - DU drow tells him those statements need not be mutually exclusive.

He'd also ask Wyll about Mizora and what it's like to be in her servitute, claiming that he "wouldn't mind doing her a few favors himself" and Wyll tries his darn best to brush that off.

Lae'zel picks on him about his, erm, unreliable state of mind and accuses DU drow of basically being a ticking-time-bomb. DU responds that he feels less like a bomb and more like a vent releasing a steady flow of noxious fumes - if that helps her sleep better at night.

He also snorts at Minthara's "jokes".

(Onto the second part of this already far-too-long reply:)

And I THINK SO, I think Astarion would take him for being more easily manipulated than Lae'zel and try his luck there instead.

Small detour: you know, I always thought it'd be neat if some of the companions formed relationships with each other if you didn't pursue them. We see friendships form but romances would be fun too - like Karlach and Shadowheart could get together if you didn't pair with either of them, and Ascended Astarion and Minthara if you happened to have that party configuration in act 3. I don't really see many of the others having that kind of chemistry, but I wouldn't want the whole camp to be in love with each other anyway lol just 1 or 2 other couples would make the party feel more autonomous.

So, in a world where that's a part of the game, I obviously would say they get together if you don't romance either (from a mechanic standpoint player still gets first dibs LOL) and that unlocks unique party banter and dialogue where you can ask them about it once per act and reveal the "status" of the relationship. In act 2 you get to comment about how they seem to "steal away" together often. Astarion implies they're obviously having sex, and that he's always wanted to "try a little drow - but a big one is even better". If you ask DU drow about it he keeps details and motivations to himself, but acknowledges that they have something going on. You can then tell him that you believe he's being used, and DU drow very nonchalantly says that "he's well aware", but that he isn't worried about it.

In Act 3, when you ask again, Astarion somewhat bashfully reveals that the drow grew on him, and if you press on about the topic he reveals that they haven't even had sex since act 1, they just do a lot of talking, as he sheepishly puts it. If you ask DU drow about it he's much more upfront in saying that they've become an item, and that he's very happy in Astarion's company.

[imperator-titus]

Favorite Party Banter [Shadowheart Edition]

[Astarion (Ascended)] [Halsin/Jaheira] [Gale] [Karlach] [Lae'zel] [Minsc] [Minthara] [Shadowheart] [Wyll]

I often miss party banter because of party comp (and sometimes just straight up can't hear??) so here's a collection of my favorite bants while going through dialogue files. I know the wiki has the banter (most? all?) but I added the file names and dev notes.

Either Shadowheart is the main speaker/subject or I think her reaction is good shit.

Not in any particular order.

(Also sadly small, she does show up in a lot of other people's bants tho)

[PB_Astarion_Shadowheart_Guildhall_Entrance]

Astarion: What a delightfully secluded alley. I would have been in my element here, once.

Shadowheart: But you consort with a better class of people now, right?

Astarion: A different class of person. And a different type of consorting.

Shadowheart: Let’s just stop this conversation right here, shall we? {Devnote: too much information}

[PB_Astarion_Shadowheart_SCL_Forest]

Astarion: These woods feel unsettling - like they're dangling on the edge between life and death.

Shadowheart: Isn't that how you feel all the time, Astarion? I thought you'd find it comforting. {Devnote: teasing}

Astarion: Funny. Very funny. {Devnote: Astarion does not, in fact, find this very funny}

[PB_Karlach_Shadowheart_ROM_Act2_001]

Karlach: So - why night orchids?

Shadowheart: Well, isn't it enough that they're beautiful? {Devnote: SH has turned from Shar}

Shadowheart: They remind me of some place - a place I can't quite remember. But I think I was happy there, wherever it was.

Shadowheart: Sorry. I'm being silly. {Devnote: A touch bashful}

Karlach: You're cute.

[day-drawn-blog]

Jealous over Astarion's affections

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

I got triggered by some flirtations banter between him and Shadowheart and I realized, my tav, if anything like me, would probably feel extremely jealous too. We are not together yet, so do I even have a claim on him? I needed to write down this scenario.

Tags: angst, fluff, sadness, angst, fluff, then maybe eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part IV: There is much to do and I still want to live

Part V: Our futures bound, our bodies known

Part VI : These ain't my sins, I broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII : your blood like wine, invite me in

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

--------

What a day. As you all were sitting down next to the campfire, your eyes couldn't help but wander at Astarion. While you all were fairly new to each other, you noticed, Shadowheart was quite comfortable around Astarion. and Astarion was acting quite familiar around her too. You wished you didn't see that. So you quickly averted your eyes. Every one else seemed to be busy being merry, laughing, drinking and having a good time. So why couldn't you relax?

You stood up, intending to clear your head. Why do you feel such a sharp pang. You don't love him. You barely know him, he may not even be a good person for all you know. What had you hoped? That he would favor you over everyone? But why... is it because, you yearn...

You yearn for him.

Your heart lit up. And then, you remembered, he didn't, yearn for you. He likes Shadowheart. The beautiful Shadowheart. And she is powerful. Of course he would. She was like a dangerous flower. But a flower all the same. And you? Just a nobody, with no past, and a future you cannot envision. Nothing to your name. Except for a sword, bound to you by a pact. Power. To dispel enemies. To fight your way in this madness that has engulfed your world. But they weren't enough. Not enough for him to yearn for you...

You ran.

Through the woods, far away from your friends, and the warm fire. Through the darkness, like your racing mind. Till you were out of breath in a field bathed in silver moonlight. And the world was quiet. And you felt welcome by Nature. And loved. By the world around. There was not a soul around, and you broke down, in tears. As you felt sorry for the state your heart was in. And how brutally it was crushed. You blamed yourself for even getting your hopes up.

You wailed.

Your cries could not be heard by anyone here. You felt grateful for the serenity. You lay on the grass, hugging yourself. Before long, you closed your eyes, and were drifting off due to exhaustion. The day was hard. The night even more so.

Your light sleep was interrupted by the sound of twigs cracking under approaching light footsteps. You jolted up and were shocked at the shadowy figure looming over you. Instantly your hand reached for your Pact Weapon, but the other party - just as shocked initially - cried out in self defense. "Its' me! Astarion! Please, I did not mean to scare you. Please."

You lowered your weapon. But he had some explaining to do.

"I am sorry, I - I didn't realize it was you. I - I thought you were someone else. A bandit. And I, I was going to well... I was hungry."

He took a deep breath. Resolved to his fate. "I would never hurt you. Or any of my friends. I want you to trust me."

"Alright, let's say that is true, what did you want with this.. bandit? You wanted to loot him I suppose." You put your weapon away.

"That's the other thing. I am not sure, if I should be telling you this, but, I am so hungry, and .. and I have been very unlucky tonight, you see."

"Did Karlach not leave you any food? Or were you so distracted, talking to Sha- other people, that you forgot to eat?"

"I, I need blood to survive."

Silence followed. Deafening silence. He looked down. As if he was ashamed. Then looked up at your with pleading yes.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Incredulous, you couldn't believe you had missed the signs that were there all along. Everything pointed to him being a Vampire. So that boar..... But now what? There is a Vampire in your midst! OMG. Had you just put your entire party in danger?! You and your stupid trusting heart. What now? Should you kill him?

"I never, please believe me, I never hurt people I know. Those who are my friends. But please, I am very hungry, I just need... a little bit.. it will help me fight better, and make me feel like myself, again".

He knelt down. On his knees... "If it isn't too much, I only need a little bit - or you are free to stake me".

You looked down at the sorry state he was in. This man who you were yearning for, on his knees, pleading you. He was pleading for your blood. That was the only problem. You didn't want him to, but wanted him to not be in such a state either. You wanted to help him. There went your stupid kind heart again. You never learn.

"Will it hurt?"

Astarion looked up - incredulous that you even entertained the idea. "What? Oh! No, only a little prick. And I can be extra careful too -"

"Does it have to be the neck? Because I don't want-" "And you don't have to - if you don't want to" He had stood up. He lifted your right hand, and lifted it to his lips - placing a light kiss. "I am more than happy, with your hand. May I?" He looked up. A darkness in his eyes. Hunger? Greed? Deception? Maybe all of it. You nod slightly.

He caressed your hand with both of his, dragging his lips over your wrist sending sparks through your body. This felt so wrong, yet your body liked his touch. You could smell his hair, bergamot. He was taller than you. Lit up in the moon, this man was gorgeous. And dangerous, as he was just about to prove himself to be. You looked away as he bared his fangs. You hated anything piecing your skin. Hoping you don't feel a lot, you closed your eyes, and you did not. It was barely a prick like he promised. You were grateful.

After a while, you decided this was more than enough of a favor. You tried withdrawing your hand. He got the hint. He let your hand go and stepped back, and looked at your with a grateful smile. "Would you like me to...escort you back, to camp?"

Should you let him? Weren't you running away from how he was making you feel. Wouldn't Shadowheart notice? What would she think? But, how could you refuse him. After all, you may never get another chance...to walk with him. Through the woods. Just the two of you. Even as friends. Or strangers. You grasped at what you could get.

You two walked back in silence. Him next to you. Every now and again you would look at him. He seemed lost in thought, smiling. You figured he must be thinking of her. Your heart sank, and the gratitude you were feeling at being able to walk next to him, quickly dissipated to pangs of sharp pain again. What started as a romantic moonlit walk quickly turned into an unbearable awkwardness for you, and you wished you were back already. So you quickened your pace.

Very soon, you could see the warm glow of the fire. What a relief. You just need a hug. From Karlach. Or Halsin. And you could forget about the unceremonious way you let your heart pine for a man out of your reach. And upon reaching camp - you did just that. You forsook Astarion immediately and without another glance at him, ran to Karlach and buried your face in her, lest you start crying again. You didn't care what he did, whether he went back to Shadowheart, you did not want to witness that.

Afterwards when the whole camp had quietened down. You hung around with Karlach, Gale and Wyll. You assumed, Shadowheart was in Astarion's tent. And you dare not look that way. You asked those lingering - what their reason to live was. Did everyone have something to live for? What would they do, after all this was over?

An interesting discussion followed. You felt you got to know your comrades a bit better. It made you feel warm. The cold that was left due to the lack on one was filled by the warmth of many, and you smiled. You liked it. And you liked your new found friends.

Later that night, you lay in your tent, and tried to drive away all the thoughts about how no one would miss you. If you were not there, or how you were not as interesting as some of the others. And as you fought hard, with yourself, you realized, that there must be others like you out there who needed someone to know them, to look at them, and value them. And you realized you had a purpose. You could be needed. You could carve out a meaning for your existence in this crazy world. You wanted to be there for those that needed you. You will be the hero. And that would be the reason to exist, you would love yourself, so you can love those who needed to be loved.

And with that comforting thought you drifted away.

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

[littlejuicebox]

I want to hold your hand.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character/Ranger AKA AstarionxWren

Chapter number: Ten

Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / All fluff no smut in this one / Act 1 Spoilers / Angst / Anxiety / Feelings Realization / Violence / Gore / Past trauma / Alcohol / Swear words / Lae'zel being a butthole again (I promise I actually really love her character but, come on, the behavior in this chapter pretty in character for her.) Word count: 2.8K Masterlist: Click here. Song inspiration: "I Want to Hold Your Hand" - The Beatles (But really, more so the version in Across the Universe because the yearning is palpable in that version.) Notes: LMK if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series in a message. :)

-----

Astarion took a long time gathering enough gumption to finally exit the Druid’s bedchambers. By the time he made his way toward the center of the grove, all the stars were gleaming in the sky, and more than one campfire had been lit. It appeared everyone already ate dinner, made evident by the empty tables full of used crockery and roasts picked nearly to the bone. He heard faint notes of music and an increasing amount of chatter as he made his way up the stone steps to the camp… it sounded like a party.

His other traveling companions were already there, and their tents had all been pitched. He spied Karlach kindly putting his tent up, and Astarion walked over to help her finish the job. Typically, he would've just left the tiefling to the grunt work and walked off to flirt with Wren or merely lounge about, but since Wren had stormed away from him earlier in the evening after their little tiff… he had nothing better to do.

Apart from Wren, Karlach was probably the vampire's favorite companion. Her easy-going nature made it so he didn’t have to perform too terribly hard around her, and he appreciated their rare moments together. Shadowheart was good for some quick banter, of course, but now the cleric’s preoccupation with Lae’zel made that relationship less ideal and he'd found himself avoiding the cleric whenever her green guard dog was around.

The silver-haired elf took one of the tent ties from Karlach and scanned the crowd for Wren. He spotted her sitting by an attentive Halsin. The unexpected sight created a dull ache in his chest, right around where his undead heart sat stock-still. Gods, he had to find a way to fix things before she found herself enamored with someone that was clearly a better alternative and he wasted all his time and effort for… what exactly? What was this thing between them?

The Archdruid towered over the little bird, especially when she was in a seated position. But despite the size difference, the mountain of a man held her arm in a remarkably gentle grip. The vampire tried to ignore the new duo as he thanked Karlach and then meandered toward the pile of booze. Maybe if he just… loosened himself up a bit, he’d be able to talk to Wren about what he was feeling instead of putting his foot in his mouth again. But what was he feeling, exactly? Astarion didn't have the words. Perhaps that wasn’t the point. Perhaps the point was that whatever role she wanted him to perform, he would do it, if it meant he would stay in her good graces. Surely that was a fair price to pay to be rid of the ache in his chest.

As much as the rogue tried to ignore the scene that was making his insides churn, his eyes kept roaming back to the two of them. The vampire watched as Halsin thoroughly, too thoroughly, spread some kind of salve on Wren’s forearm while she occupied herself with chugging whatever she had in her cup. Astarion had a fleeting thought that it should be him applying that salve on Wren's arm, not the big bear. If not him, then surely Shadowheart. Who the hell was this druid, anyway?

Wren had changed from the chemise he’d given her a few days back and into an entirely different, and significantly more revealing outfit. Where the hells had she even found a set of leather trousers? And was she truly just wearing the bodice she wore under her armor on her torso?

After Halsin was done playing doctor with the little bird, the pale elf was sure the sickening rendezvous would end. But then Wren was digging through her bag and revealing the pipe she’d stolen from Halsin with a guilty grin. The Archdruid seemed very entertained by this; he threw his head back as he laughed in pure delight. Halsin said something with a lifted eyebrow and then smiled and returned the pipe back to the little bird.

Gods, Astarion wished he could hear what they were saying from here. He had the strange sensation of being left out, and he bristled at the thought. ‘They are getting along far too well.’

The vampire reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the scene and snatched a bottle of wine from the booze pile. He was in no mood for this little party, but he supposed he would play this part if he had to.

-----

Wren was tired of performing. The whole self-sufficient, strong ranger woman act was getting exhausting. What was the point? She kept making mistakes, anyway… first losing her own eye, then blowing their cover with Minthara, and then the absolute dragonshitshow of a conversation she’d just had with one of her strongest and most versatile campmates. The campmate that she’d bedded the day before, effectively ending her entirely too long streak of voluntary abstinence. But… had her time with Astarion really been a mistake? She couldn't be sure.

Truly, Wren just wanted someone to hold her. And maybe Halsin wouldn’t hold her, but he’d hold her arm with his warm, comforting hand… and slather some sticky, honey-based salve on her charred skin while she chugged whatever Alfira had just poured into her cup. She liked Halsin. He was nice. He was mature, kind, and held an attractive air of relaxed confidence. It was easy to be drawn to his comforting energy; she saw why the grove trusted him.

Before long, the Archdruid wrapped her arm in a bandage, refused the return of his pipe with an explanation that he had several more, and told her that he didn’t know how to remove the parasites, but he had some ideas they could discuss tomorrow. He cut the conversation short and pushed her into the party, insisting she go and have some fun before returning to business-as-usual tomorrow morning.

Wren wasn’t in any mood for this party, but she begrudgingly obliged. After downing whatever was left in her cup, she found herself roped into a few dances with some of the tieflings and one with Gale. By the third cup of — what was it, wine? — she and Karlach tried to dance without touching, mostly just shimmying and spinning around one another like lunatics before falling on the ground laughing at the stupidity of it all. She needed that laugh, and if she could’ve hugged the tiefling woman then, she would’ve.

After the chortling was over, and the ranger's ribs hurt beyond belief, the two women wandered back to the libations. Karlach flicked her gaze over toward Astarion, who appeared to be brooding and trying to hide the fact that he was brooding, and then she looked back to a buzzed Wren. She filled two more cups with some cherry-scented liquid as she addressed the half-elf. “What’s going on with you and Fangs, anyway, soldier? Normally you two are attached at the hip… or the lip.”

“Karlach!” Wren yelped, her eyes widening as she quickly glanced around to see if anyone else had heard the Barbarian. Her already alcohol-flushed face began to trail the rosy blush up her ears and down her neck.

“Oh, come off!” Karlach exclaimed with a chuckle, rolling her eyes at the ranger. “First of all, you’re a grown woman, so you can do whatever and whoever you’d like. Second of all… it’s not really a secret, Wren. We all know. You should’ve seen the absolute state Astarion was in for those few days you were knocked out after that Gur encounter. I doubt he’s like that for just anyone.”

Wren didn’t know what to say in response to Karlach’s revelation. Her fingers moved up to nervously touch her lip scar and then she shrugged, “I guess… I didn’t know how he felt. I… don’t know how he feels.”

“Well… did you ever really ask him?” Karlach responded with a shrug, as if the answer were quite simple to her, cocking her head just slightly at the ranger before shoving the filled cup into her hand.

Wren almost laughed as she lifted the cup to her lips for a drink. She didn’t ever ask him; she’d been too preoccupied by the parasite, and then losing her eye. She didn't stop to speak to him at all, really. The archer soaked in the irony of her own words from her earlier encounter with Astarion swinging like a boomerang right back to her. The substance in her cup tasted better than the previous drinks she’d been given, and the brunette woman eagerly took another sip as she considered her friend’s words with a soft hum. “Alright. I'll ask him."

-----

Astarion watched Wren dance with more than one partner. Should he ask her to dance? Would that smooth things over? He knew how to, of course. But then, if she was so angry with him that she rejected him in front of everyone… well the rogue’s pride truly couldn’t stand for that to happen.

The vampire sat frozen in indecision, sipping from his bottle as his eyes tracked the little bird around the camp. She and Karlach had a bit of conversation by the booze table — it must’ve been about him, because Karlach looked his way more than once. Annoyingly, he couldn’t pick up what they said from this distance over the clamor of other conversations and Alfira’s music. The knowledge that he was being discussed made him uneasy, and he huffed, suddenly scanning the party for a distraction. Just as he was about to throw a line at some tiefling in a futile attempt to stroke his own ego, he heard Wren’s enraged voice thundering through the party.

“What the hell did you just say, Lae’zel?” The little bird was standing face to face with the Githyanki, hands clenched into tight fists.

“You heard what I said. I do not need to repeat it.” Lae’zel responded coolly, stepping even closer to the ranger, answering their group leader’s challenge.

The entire crowd had fallen silent, watching the scene unfold. Wren quickly hooked her right arm, and Astarion stared in a ridiculously juxtaposed mixture of horror and delight as it connected with a solid pow on the other woman’s eye socket. Lae’zel, to her credit, took the punch with barely any reaction and then returned it with one of her own. It landed on the ranger’s nose with a sickening crack.

Astarion rushed forward, along with Karlach and Shadowheart, just as Lae’zel was about to withdraw her blade. But Astarion was faster than the alien and he pressed the edge of his dagger against the Githyanki’s neck in warning.

“Now, now, I think not, little viper. You’re clearly drunk. Go lay down with mommy Shadowheart and take a nap before we all do things we will surely regret in the morning.” His voice warned, tone measured but scarlet eyes heated as they glared into Lae’zel’s.

Shadowheart had hold of Lae’zel’s forearm, staying her blade, while Karlach stood a few paces behind the half-elf. Wren was holding her nose, which was now pouring thin streams of crimson. Astarion couldn’t see the blood from where his face was pressed so closely to the alien, but he could easily smell it. Oh, how his fingers positively ached with the desire to slice into Lae’zel’s neck and repay the debt.

Shadowheart spoke, trying with all her might to remain calm and be the voice of reason. “Come on, Lae’zel. You’re drunk… you didn’t truly mean it. Come with me, let’s go lay down.”

The Githyanki relented, inhaling deeply and stepping back, away from Astarion’s blade. The cleric offered an apologetic look to her other campmates before grabbing her lover’s hand and pulling her away from the party, towards their tent.

“Sorry about that, folks! You know how it goes among family!” Karlach shouted, and soon everyone shrugged off the dispute and resumed their conversations, followed by another swell of music.

After Astarion stowed his blade, he turned to check on Wren. She’d already walked towards her own tent and hidden herself inside the little nest. He followed after her, swiftly ducking himself into the canvas shelter before kneeling down to face the little bird. She’d held a cloth over her nose and fixed her closed eyes toward the ceiling, hoping to slow the bleeding.

“I heard it break. Can’t you heal it yourself?” He murmured, cocking his head slightly as he lifted his hand toward her face, removing the cloth for a moment to examine the damage.

“I tried. But it seems I’m out of spellcasting power. I used it all up at the goblin camp. I’m obviously not going to Shadowheart for help, Halsin already helped me with my arm, and fuck Nettie. So… here I am.”

“Hold on.” Astarion murmured, exiting the tent with no further explanation. Wren’s brows furrowed in confusion as she watched him exit, but that caused a sharp pain in her nose, so she groaned and looked back at the ceiling.

The vampire returned a few minutes later, wearing a large amulet with a jade-colored stone that Wren didn’t recognize and carrying his own backpack. He sat back down and moved his slender hands forward, bidding the little bird to lower the blood-soaked cloth. Long, lithe fingers pressed to the woman’s nose and then Astarion uttered a healing incantation.

Wren blinked in surprise as she felt the familiar warmth of a healing spell seep through her skin and into the fragile bones along the center of her face. Soon enough, her nose felt practically back to normal. Astarion seemed to be watching her for an indication that his efforts worked before lowering his hands. She nodded subtly.

The rogue quietly removed his hands and quickly undid the clasp of the heavy amulet, stowing the piece of jewelry back in his pack. Then he rustled around, withdrawing a small bottle of water and a small scrap of cloth. After dampening the cloth, he lifted it to Wren’s nose and began tenderly cleaning the dried blood off her face. He saw the question in her eyes and answered it without her prompting.

“I found it among Counsellor Florrick’s things, when I found your chemise. Seemed worth keeping, but it’s awfully noisy when I move so I don't wear it all the time.” He says in a hushed voice, pausing for a moment when Wren winced as he pressed too firmly to her still-tender nose. He looks at her for a beat and then continues, “Figured I would hold onto it, just in case...”

'Just in case I end up on my own and I don't have Shadowheart or you to heal me.'

A bit of quiet fell between the two as the elf focused on his task, and the woman focused on one of her pillows instead of the rogue. Astarion noticed this, because she normally watched him so intently with those two-toned eyes of hers. It stung, her lack of attention on him, but he kept working, hoping somehow this was a step in the right direction. At least she hadn’t pushed him away. It was clear that in the thick silence of the tent, which was such a sharp contrast to the raging party outside, that the two of them felt the weight of things unsaid hanging between them.

“What did she say?” Astarion questioned in a low murmur, scarlet orbs wandering from Wren's upturned nose to her distant stare, pulling her attention back to him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wren huffed, beginning to bristle in response and starting to pull away from the vampire, but his other hand clasped onto her forearm and kept her in place.

The rogue paused for a moment, squinting his eyes at the ranger. Wren could see the subtle prickles of annoyance on his face; her eyes took in the scrunch of his nose and the clenching of his jaw. His tone was stiff, curt, as if he were trying to maintain hold over his emotions. “You said you would tell me anything if I bothered to ask. So, here I am, asking.”

Wren fell silent, as she felt the sting of her own words flipped against her for the second time that night. She moved to thumb her lip scar, and Astarion’s eyes followed her finger for a moment before returning to holding her own eyes in an unyielding stare.

“She…” The little bird looked up at the tent and sighed. Hells, it was going to sound so ridiculous when it came out.

“She overheard Karlach asking what happened to Kol, and I told Karlach that Kol had died. I told her what I told you about the ambush. And then Lae’zel said that I have a type… elves with silver hair and red eyes. And that my history of poor leadership would probably get you killed, just like it had the first one.”

Wren’s mouth hardened into a line, and her voice crackled at the end. Fuck Lae’zel for knowing exactly how to cut into her with words and lay bare one of her biggest fears. Wren didn’t want to be the leader… she didn’t fucking want it! So why did Lae’zel or anyone else have to make it so hard? Didn’t they know she was already beating herself to a pulp for every misstep along the way?

Astarion watched as the little bird rolled her gaze up to the ceiling where she stayed intently focused on the canvas of the tent, trying to conceal her tears. He had half a mind to storm across the camp and cut out the Githyanki’s tongue. Maybe they would all be better off for it; her pessimistic nature wasn’t doing the group any favors, after all. But instead, he sighed, grabbed Wren’s hand, grabbed his own pack, and then stood up, pulling her with him.

“Come on, darling. Let’s get away from this party. The wine is shit and the only company really worth keeping is in this tent, anyway.” He grumbled before walking out of the canvas shelter and heading away from the crowd, toward the grove exit. He kept his fingers wrapped around hers as he led her along.

Wren followed without much of a thought. She spent so much time being a leader, she supposed she basked in the few moments when she got to be a follower. She didn’t know where they were going; she didn’t care. She just wanted Astarion to keep holding her hand for as long as possible.

-----

Taglist: Hiii @mancsunite

[newtabfics]

In Understanding

astarion x y/n

Summary: Y/N worries over Astarion after he goes off after an insult that feels a bit too personal from Shadowheart. She offers to talk to him, which results in a heart-to-heart between a vampire and a stoner.

Triggers for smoking weed and brooding/angsty thoughts.

The crickets chirped loudly in sync with the frogs almost. The water lapped delicately at the shoreline, as a vampire sat in a tree, leg hanging lazily as he read his book.

Or, attempted to read at least.

"Nothing but a heartless leech!"

He scoffed and glared at the sky as those words milled through his head again. True he was a vampire. And true he could be heartless.

But was that all he was to them? 

He couldn't help but wonder this, but the twig snapping underfoot alerted him. He turned to see her. Y/N was looking at the stick as she pulled her foot back nervously before meeting his gaze. She looked like a lost child caught sneaking around.

Y/N composed herself and smiled gently. "Found you," She said.

He hummed. "What is it you want?" He bit out, turning back to his book. "I'm busy."

"I wanted to check on you," She said, hands sinking into the pockets of her pants.

Astarion scowled, studying her. She was at ease. Her guard was down entirely despite the still healing holes in her neck. 

"I'm not a child," He scoffed.

"Well great!" She beamed, pulling out a small rolled-up paper. His nose twitched as he detected the herbs inside. She grinned. "Cuz I wouldn't smoke with a kid. Want a hit?"

He blinked at that then closed his book as she approached. "Sure." 

Y/N leaned against the tree below his branch, handing it up to her. When he inspected it in an attempt to understand how to light the damn thing as he left his matches in the tent when he hears a soft-spoken spell.

Looking up, Y/N's thumb was up, a small flame flickering above it like a tiny torch. He smirked. "Show off," He hummed as he let her light it, taking a slow inhale.

"Coming from you?" She smirked at him. She watched him take a hit before passing it back to her. Carefully, she took a hit, wincing as she felt the drug quickly take her mind. "Shit," She coughed, smoke escaping.

"Too strong?" Astarion exhaled with a smirk.

"Yeah, actually," She chuckled. "This is from the druids when we saved them. Gift from Halsin…though I do wonder if he'd hoped I would try it with him around." Astarion smirked. "I still can't believe you turned him down. He is a handsome druid."

"Honestly? That's it. He doesn't really get the humor like you do," She hummed as she took another hit before passing the blunt to him.

Astarion's eyebrow raised as he took it. He inhales slowly as his red eyes dart over to the lake before them, sighing out the smoke.

"So, the man needs to understand your humor?" He asked curiously. "What about other things? What's the type of man that makes the fearless Y/N swoon?"

She smirked. "Firstly, it doesn't have to be a man. Preferred? Yes. Required? No. Secondly…a lot of things."

"Such as?" He hummed as she met his eyes. He could see the drug was hitting her much harder, though there was still some lucidness about her.

"Well, having fangs is a good start," She joked, smirking at the quirk of his lips. "Maybe a devilish smile. A love for holding me hostage on sight. What else?"

"Oh is that all? There's three I've already checked off. What else?" He asked, enjoying this banter.

"A kind heart."

"Oh please," He scoffed. "If you were going to recite poetry–"

"You really don't think you're kind? Is it cuz of Shadowheart?" She cut in quickly, blinking up at him. "Cuz…she's wrong."

"Is she now," He muttered, keeping his eyes firm against the water.

She studied him for a moment as she eyed the water carefully. So many words that could be said…but what were the right ones, she wondered.

"I think you're kind," She said, taking a hit when he passed it to her. Her words became muddled. "You do good stuffs and bad stuffs but that doesn't make you bad. You make us smile with your humor. You don't mince your words and voice everyone's thoughts. You're a perfect fit in this group of misfits, Astarion."

Astarion eyed her a moment before laughing softly. "Even when I hold them hostage?" He teased.

"That's for me only," She giggled, slumping against the tree entirely as she eyed the river before ripping off her boots.

He blinked as he watched her hike up her pants around her knees before jumping into the water. Astarion rolled his eyes. "You're high off your rocker," He chuckled.

"You're high off your rocker," She bit back with a giggle.

"Very clever. Did you work on that one?" His voice dripped with mirth and excitement.

He blinked when she bit her lip as he watched her hands glow with magic. Her hands moved in a quick pattern. Like a snake charmer, she coaxed the water from the river up until a small tendril of water was at her will.

Astarion watched as the sorceress, stoned out of her mind, began to play with the water as though it were the most natural thing to do. She created an almost dance with the water.

A small smile graced his lips as he took another hit. "This is good stuff," he confessed. "Though, it's a wonder you're conscious."

When she hadn't responded beyond a hum, he snorted. "Barely conscious. Let's get you back so you don't do anything ridiculous," He chuckled as he slid from his branch. He offered her the blunt. "Last drag."

Y/N smiled and dropped her spell as she approached. She carefully took the blunt and finished it off, blinking.

Astarion snickered. "Yeah. Let's go. You need to lay down."

"We could lay down here and look at the stars," She slurred with a giggle, the smoke leaking from her mouth.

Astarion smiled softly despite himself as he met her eyes. He sighed heavily. "Thank you. For coming here."

Y/N smiled and said, "Can i hug you?"

She was always careful of his feelings. He happily opened his arms in silent invitation. Though he tried to convince himself otherwise, he knew she was worried for him after he'd stormed off. Having her there, holding him close and making him feel like he belongs…

"I'm grateful to have you, Y/N," He sighed softly, resting his chin on her head. "You're…obnoxious, stoned girl."

Y/N smiled and squeezed him. She didn't speak, not wanting to slur or mumble incoherently. She wanted only to hold him, remind him he was safe again. 

He was more than just a vampire.

He was Astarion.

[ficbrish]

You have my Bloody Heart

[AO3 Link]

[Here we go! @flufftober Spring Edition 2024! Thank you for the prompt 🥰 March 12th - Banter, Joking, Fun]

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

tw/cw: Sexual content, blood, blood drinking, past abuse, cptsd, choking kink, alcohol, food, hurt/comfort, light injury

Late in Act III, Astarion and Vistri sneak out for a date night.

LATE ACT III SPOILERS!

The others were asleep, filling the room at the Elfsong with silence and snoring. Astarion and Vistri, however, were wrapped around each other in their bed, wide awake.

“Let’s sneak off,” he whispered, stroking her hair.

His voice sent shivers from Vistri's ear to her neck, then traveled down her back, flipping her stomach like a coin. The sensation was familiar and terrifying, like she was preparing to cast some new higher-level spell. She held back her laughter, trying her best not to be too loud. The Elfsong provided real beds, but less privacy, and they’d already been yelled at too many times for disturbing everyone’s slumber.

Turning around to face him, softly, Vistri exclaimed, “Race you!”

As she sat up to get out of bed, Astarion pulled her back in. Bringing her into a close embrace, he traced her jawline with a delicate finger then slowly kissed the silver scales along her brow. Vistri sighed, and he answered it with a kiss. Long and gentle.

It left her dizzy, and devoid of all sense but him. Astarion took advantage of the opportunity to get a head start.

Forgetting the need to be quiet, Vistri laughingly shouted, “Bastard! ” and chased after him on shaking legs.

A sleepy Gale frustratedly groaned on the other side of the screen, “Mystra’s tits… ”

Withers silently and dispassionately watched his pawn and her distraction make their way towards the exit in a whispered, giggling rush. He wasn’t worried the world might fall, but noted it as a possibility.

Wyll and Shadowheart jumped at the slamming of the door, even from opposing sides of the room. Almost like it was choreographed, they suddenly sat up, reaching for the knives stashed under their pillows. Realizing it was nothing, just those damn elves again, they fell back asleep.

“I won!” Astarion bragged as they hurried down the tavern stairs.

Vistri leapt onto his back and lightly nibbled the point of his ear, “You cheated!”

“Ow!” he laughed.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she gave it an adoring peck, “Is that better?”

If she kept doing that, Astarion was going to have to sit down for a little while. He never knew touch could ignite so many feelings. Lust and a deep sense of safety never went together before. He never knew he could have both, until she came along.

“Much better,” he said with a bit of a sigh.

He walked through the rest of the tavern with Vistri on his back, but had to let her down once they stepped outside.

“Nooo!” she protested as he squatted to set her down, “I wanted to ride you!”

Astarion smirked, “I know you do, dear.”

“Not like that!” she chuckled freely.

“Sure, you don’t,” he teased, smiling brightly, “But I’d rather hold that lovely lavender hand of yours—Take a stroll by the water? Side by side?”

Wriggling his fingers invitingly, Vistri took hold of them in happy disbelief. Like it was the first time. His hands were a miracle she could twist her fingers around.

How could something so exciting be so calming at the same time?

Touching, hand-in-hand; everything was good in the world.

“Thank you,” he brought her fist up to his lips, kissing along her knuckles like a prayer. He adored the way she still blushed after all these tendays.

With quite a bit of city between the Elfsong and the docks, a habitual quickening lurched in Astarion’s stomach. Old thoughts warned him not to stray too far from sanctuary this late into the early morning hours, lest the sun come up. Knowing that wasn’t an issue for him anymore made it easy for him to shake off such worries and relax. Then he tensed up again, remembering the problem would return once they rid themselves of the tadpoles.

Unless… No.

Hope was the ultimate poison.

Vistri must have noticed his mind wandering, for she called out, “Hey, Astarion!”

He brought his attention back to her. Vistri was smiling so widely, obviously delighted. He noticed her pointing towards something off to the side somewhere.

…To a stack of hay.

A scoffing groan and rolling eyes vented his instant regret upon turning to look. They were almost entirely compatible, the only caveat being Astarion hated puns.

“I hate puns,” he’d complained in those early days of knowing each other.

Vistri couldn’t help herself, and shrugged through her response, “Guess you’re just not a punny guy.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake …”

They weren’t immediate friends.

In getting to know her, Astarion learned she poked him so he’d fight back. It wasn’t from a mocking impulse to cut him down by the tendon. Vistri wasn’t getting a rise out of him to punish him for his reaction. It was a plea for his attention. An invitation to assert his power, to take it from her. A plea for his affections.

Astarion pulled her closer, tight against his chest in an embrace that would have been threatening with anyone else. Her wrists he held firm behind her back, pushing her further into him, so very tightly. He took them into one hand to roughly grab her chin with the other, forcing her to look up into his eyes. The cool night air breezed passed them, but the heat between them didn’t dissipate, only grew.

His stare laid bare her soul, his tone both a knife and a feather, “My dear, I do believe that merits some pun-ishment.”

Vistri humorously cried out, shocked and delighted that he played along for once. Astarion stole a kiss from her open mouth. She whimpered as his lips wrapped around hers; his tongue reaching out. Taking hers.

Astarion sighed, losing himself in his own trap. Always, always that seemed to happen with her. Pulling away, he twirled Vistri around, releasing her with a cheeky smack to her bum.

Giggling like fools they reunited their hands.

A passing cat delayed them in their journey to the seafront. It was so fluffy, grey, and glorious, how could they not stop for a chat? Vistri cast Speak to Animals, and reached out to Astarion’s tadpole, letting him into her mind so she wouldn’t have to translate cat to elf.

The floof had a majestically deep voice; a rumbling, theatrical roar, “Good Evening. Would you happen to have any ham?”

Smirking at Astarion from the corner of her eye, Vistri gave the feline a little bow, “Forgive us, good fellow. While we’ve been known to ham it up, we have none upon us at the moment.”

“Blast! The gods are cruel tonight. To set such a heavy heart on the hunt for warm ham.”

“Deepest apologies,” she said hand to heart, “If I knew you were looking for ham, I would have lowered my voice and given it a bit of a warble before greeting you with something like, 'Mighty night stalker! We have been honored by your graceful presence! Is there any way poor souls such as us could hope to please thee? ’”

The cat slow-blinked in response, purring in delight at such a wonderful display of servitude. 

Astarion leaned in, whispering to Vistri, “Might I offer a bit of sausage?”

“Do you really have some? Or is that just a euphemism?”

“Oh, I really have it,” he answered suggestively, stroking her arm. It sent more of those shivers through her. Then plainly, he stated, “But I also do happen to have a bit of it in my pocket.”

“Oh, you’ve got more than a bit in your pocket, my dear,” she smirked heatedly. Then frowned, “But really! You can’t give sausage to a cat! It’s not good for them!”

“It’s not?” he asked bawdily, “Come now, I thought sausage was an excellent thing to give to a pussy.”

Vistri tried her best not to let her amusement show on her face, “Well, if I wanted to come now, that would be just the thing.”

Astarion pulled a bit of sausage from his pocket, “I wasn’t kidding.”

As she burst into laughter, he broke some pieces off the top of the link. Kneeling, he offered them to the cat.

“Do you like sausage?”

“Mm–I love sausage!” it purred, eating from Astarion’s palm.

The wet, hot breath and fuzzy nose of the creature felt so delicate. Trusting. As if he were someone gentle and worthy of it. Tadpoles still linked, Vistri could feel his heart flutter in her own chest. A sense of preciousness and renewal overcame her through him.

Sated after his nibbles, the cat parted ways. First allowing them to indulge in a few chin scratches. Astarion, already at cat level, was given permission initially. Then Vistri was invited in to even out the other side.

She laughed as they continued towards the docks, asking, “Why on Toril do you have sausage in your pocket?”

“I figured… In case you got hungry…”

That tickled Vistri so much it stole her breath away, snatching the sound from her laughter. When she caught it again, her voice was strained, pitchy, “You were gonna feed me sausage?! ”

Swept along by her current of laughter, Astarion’s features joyously softened.

“It was a set up for a bit,” he admitted, his expressions free, thus very silly.

Moonlight glittered across the water when they approached it. The image quieted and then stilled them. Hand in hand, they admired Shadowheart’s new goddess, and the sea raging calmly under her glow.

“I love you,” Vistri said without looking away from the distance.

Astarion turned to face her, and feeling his gaze like a blush on her cheeks, Vistri turned to face him too.

Squeezing her hand, pouring his heart into her eyes through his, he whispered, “I love you too.”

It was peaceful.

After a while, Vistri began swaying their hands in a childish arc; back and forth with more enthusiasm than rhythm.

Amused, he asked, “What’s on your mind over there?”

With the smile of a fey, she proposed, “Let’s go do something naughty.”

The something naughty Vistri had in mind was a game. She called it, “Let’s go find an abandoned house to break into.”

He smiled widely, reborn at her suggestion. A greed that lusted after defiance more than the forbidden rumbled through his chest. Delicious enough for him to sink his teeth into. Skirting rules together was a breaking of chains, a reclamation.

Strolling down the streets, arm in arm, they pretended to be house-hunting. Pointing out every derelict building they passed. Exchanging questions like some vapid patriar couple. 

“Do you like that one, dear?”

“Oh, no, dear! How dreadful!—What about that one over there?”

“Gods, no! Would you want to emerge every morning smelling like fish?”

Until they found the perfect one.

It didn’t reek of blood or the undead, and was barely noticeable. Like a dilapidated honeycomb in an otherwise thriving hive, it was crowded by the surrounding buildings. Something about it felt forgotten, swallowed up.

“After you, my heart,” Vistri said, inviting the expert to handle the lock.

Expert indeed, Astarion had the door open at what seemed like just a touch. He waited suavely by the door, weight balanced on one hip as he leaned into the open door frame, feet cheekily crossed.

Inviting her in with a wave, he said, “Now you, beloved.”

Astarion scooped her into his arms as she passed him to carry her across the threshold. She squealed, and they both laughed themselves breathless.

The room inside was dusty and spattered with decaying furnishings, but there were no corpses or squatters in sight. At least on this floor level. Its hearth looked like it had been neglected for generations. But there was a charm, like what rotted in the shadows was bright and warm in the light.

Vistri kissed his cheek, “It is perfect, my love!”

As Astarion set her down, she noticed he couldn’t help staring at her neck. His hunger was like an intoxicant, luring her to his mouth. Vistri ran her palm along his chest, just over his eager heart. Their blood rushed together as predator and prey. Ready to steal; to surrender. Astarion closed his eyes to lean into the sensations of her gentle strokes. From his sternum, they went lower, until she was gently brushing along his belly.

“Does it ache, my love?” she asked tenderly, heated.

“It aches,” he begged, his tone warbled with yearning.

Battling her own desire, Vistri savored his. Bringing her neck closer to his mouth was a temptation for both. Astarion retracted his upper lip, letting his fangs show, almost touching her skin. Vistri moaned, running her hands through his silver curls. Her pounding pulse was so near he could reach for it with his tongue.

Standing on the precipice of fulfillment, Astarion fought ravenous impulses. The longer he waited, blind with his bloodlust, the more he proved who was in control. It was a strangling effort, but worth it just to show Vistri she was someone worth protecting. Cherished. That he was the man, not the monster.

His whining groan broke over the crook of Vistri’s jaw in a hum. Its explicit nature pulled the longing thread at Vistri’s core. Astarion was trembling, desperate to give in to the curse inside.

A series of sharp, jagged gasps escaped him at her caress of his damp face. Vistri grinned, committing his twisted features to memory, “Did you forget to eat today, love?"

He licked his lips before answering, “Yes. May I?”

“May you what?”

“Eat you up.”

Vistri pressed her neck flush against his open mouth, pushing tender flesh into sharp teeth. Still waiting for verbal confirmation, Astarion refrained from biting down. He cried out, and it turned to a low, rolling growl.

“Good boy,” she purred, her words brushing his sculpted cheekbones.

A pause. An eternity.

“Now take,” she finally commanded.

His teeth sunk into her veins with such fury Vistri was stung with a shock of fear. Like vertigo, it blurred reality, dizzying perception. Instinctually, she whimpered.

Pulling away at her flinch, Astarion searched her expression and gently whispered, “Hey.”

Vistri saw so many things before her sight settled entirely on him. He smiled kindly into her shocked expression, grounding her mind as it reeled with past and present.

“Are you all right?”

His tender tone was a salve, ceasing her spiral. Bringing her back to the present. Finally perceiving his beloved face, she chuckled, relieved and grateful.

“I am now,” she answered, nuzzling into his neck.

Astarion’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her tight. He planted a series of pecks in her hair, and she felt seeds of worry in them.

“I’m okay,” she insisted, unwilling to budge even a little from his adoring embrace.

“Hold on, love. You’re bleeding quite a bit.”

Lightheaded now he mentioned it, she let Astarion fuss over her. He examined her neck, frowning. Then he tore off his shirt to wrap it around the weeping bite. Putting pressure against the wound, he looped the ends across her, and tied them together under her opposite arm.

“Is that too tight?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m so sorry, darling. It looks like a nasty cut. Perhaps I tore away too quickly.”

“I don’t know why I...”

He took her hand, “It’s all right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Vistri. Look at me.”

She saw her friend. Her lover. Her companion.

“Good. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Okay.”

Overwhelmed with a wave of affection, Vistri pressed her forehead into his. Astarion was a dream constantly coming true. She nestled the tip of her nose against his; he shut his eyes in contentment.

“I love you with all my heart,” is what he wanted to say, but he meant it too much. So instead, he teased her.

“Gods! You bleed like a geyser!”

Vistri’s laugh broke over his face. Astarion could taste her on his tongue.

“I do not!”

“Just look at us, dear,” he said, referencing the bloody mess between them that spilled down both their shoulders.

It came from her, and rubbed off on him. Vistri loved the way it painted his skin crimson-black. Her life was his, and here that fact was artfully displayed.

“Sit still a moment!” she demanded, overcome with a sudden idea.

Curiously obedient, he waited.

Vistri dipped a finger into the blood drying on his shoulder, coating its tip. She brought it to clean skin, painting something on Astarion’s chest.

“What are you doing?” he chuckled warmly.

“Hold on!”

She licked her fingers in an attempt to freshen her “paint” and resumed her tickling strokes. Astarion kept laughing and twitching, and she kept giggling and telling him to hold still. The moment, like a cosmic opposite to the night Cazador carved his poem, knocked out the past for the present and set a new future.

“Now take a peek,” she said proudly, wearing an expectant look.

Astarion looked down to see a crude drawing of a heart. It was surprising how deeply the gesture touched him. He was prepared to be pleased, not so affected it filled him with awe.

“You silly thing,” he said thankfully, presenting himself for a kiss that she happily accepted.

“Now for you to sit still.”

She nodded.

He also bathed the tip of one of his fingers in her blood. Then put it to her lips. Vistri felt the curve of a heart. One side of her lip then the other, converging down into a point near her chin.

“There,” he said, eyes bright.

“Is it–?”

“A heart,” he nodded, “To match mine.”

Gently, he took hold of her chin. Cradling it, caressing Vistri like treasure, Astarion leaned forward to lick the bloody symbol. Kiss after kiss, he washed it away. Reaching first with his tongue; sealing each touch with his lips.

Vistri was hypnotized, enthralled. She forgot to breathe until he stopped.

Astarion opened his eyes to hers. He didn’t even have to search for her reaction, the emotion was so clear in her eyes. Bearing witness to her exposed soul was narcotic. He longed to melt into everything he saw.

Speechless, they stared at each other. Tadpoles weren’t necessary for them to share each other’s thoughts. Astarion knew the exact tone in her mind’s eye as she expressed every adoration pouring out of her countenance. Vistri similarly could spot the ache in his gratitude, casting a dark cloud over his hard-fought peace.

Heart pounding, she broke their busy silence, “No use in all this good blood going to waste…”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“But–”

“Astarion,” she interrupted. He paused, waiting for her to continue. Nodding, she said, “Trust me.”

Without further hesitation, he pulled her close by the waist. Caressing her throat with sure, shaky fingers, he leaned closer to smell her neck. His previous attempt mocked the man and the monster both. He knew he was better than that. Determined to live up to his self-expectations, he unraveled his soiled shirt from around her to reveal her gift.

She laid herself out for him on a forgotten, fraying carpet. He crawled over her, just like that first time. But unlike then, he took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly as he leaned in to strike.

Just before reopening the wound, Astarion stopped himself, asking quietly by her ear, “Are you ready for me, love?”

“Yes,” she pleaded.

By the gentle scrape of a fang, her blood ran fresh. His tongue met its icy warmth, and he gasped at the taste of a favored meal.

Vistri cried out at the pain. Moaning, “More,” so he wouldn’t stop.

Growling, he licked up every dirty inch. She writhed under him as he lapped her up.

“More. I want more of you,” she muttered.

When he hit the line he wouldn’t dare cross, Astarion stopped. Not daring to steal a drop more than he already had, he kissed the ragged bite marks closed. At first, he felt guilty at her gasping and twitching, assuming it was due to pain. His guilt was absolved at a glimpse. For he saw right away she was overcome with a different kind of ache.

Drunk with the power of her blood and by the possession of her desire, Astarion longed to play her parts like a symphony.

“Oh, my dear,” he said warmly, “I think I remember mentioning punishment.”

“Pun-ishment,” she corrected, stubbornly provocative despite her dizzying need.

“And now you’ve reminded me why,” he smirked, running a hand along her thigh.

She sighed at his touch, and rolled her hips as an invitation.

He watched as she unbuttoned her tunic and trousers. Her knickers were plum-red in the dark of the room. Then he helped her out of them, and stripped off his bottoms. When he crawled over her again, they were skin to skin. 

“Are you ready for me?” he repeated, this time with his cock nestled against her begging sex.

Repeating herself like a season, she pleaded, “Yes.”

Her body welcomed his so enthusiastically, a rough thrust took just a simple suggestion of his hips.

Vistri’s shouts broke into fragments, consumed by the pleasure building between them, “…Star…”

Pretending displeasure, he chided, “Is my rut not worth my full name?”

“No. It is! It is…”

He needed more, and took it with a faster rhythm.

“Astarion!” she cried out, every vowel and syllable of his name clear as diamonds while she tightened and pulsed around him.

It would have been so easy to let go too, but he wasn’t done. He bit his lip with a roaring sigh, and didn’t slow the roll of his hips until he was sure her ecstasy had tapered. Watching her incoherently mutter sweet nothings brought a boasting smile to his face.

“What was that, dear?”

“Thank you,” she repeated louder.

So sure of himself, he flipped her onto her side and wrapped around her. His mind played through the moment he’d bust into her with such clarity that his skin sang with remembered sensations. He shook his head to clear it as he pushed himself between her thighs.

The way she rode every thrust at that angle made their faces screw up tight. They cried each other’s names, chanting them.

“Vistri… Gods, Vistri…”

“Ah–ah–Astarion… Astarion…”

They gave in to it together; their bodies seeming to shake off their souls. If this was death, there was nothing to fear.

The possession of ecstasy refused to let them go, coming in waves that bore new waves. Maybe they’d set a new record. Maybe just a second had passed.

Neither was willing to break their embrace.

Panting, Vistri tossed her head back and sighed stupidly, “Could fuck the whole Underdark and never find that.”

Astarion filled the derelict room with a full-bodied cackle. Senses returning, they were able to finally let go.

Most trespassers would have sensibly left after making so much noise, but they weren’t most. To be fair, they had intended to leave, but got swept up in the moment. What started as simple quipping while getting dressed, evolved into a full on game of playing house.

Pretending to be a married couple getting ready in the morning, they exchanged remarks about the new day.

With no idea that it actually was a new day. All the windows were shuttered tight, and their attention was so focused, they managed to miss the cracks of sunlight.

“Do remember to go to the bank today, dear. We don’t want to be late on rent.”

“Rent? Are we poor?” Astarion asked, breaking character.

“Rent doesn’t mean poor!”

Looking off to the side with a raised brow, he muttered, “Oh, yes it does.”

Vistri laughed and gave the tip of his nose a peck before chiding, “Play along!”

After getting dressed, they had “breakfast”. Vistri poked at the empty hearth and Astarion brought over “tea”.

“Your toast is ready,” Vistri said, wiping her hands on an invisible apron, “Please refrain from soaking it in jam again. Your doctor spoke to me personally this time.”

“Perish the thought! I’d rather an early grave than go a day without a handful of your homemade jam.”

Astarion motioned like he was serving them tea.

Vistri accepted her mimed cup with a, “Thank you, love.”

“Say, do we have anything other than toast?”

Meeting his eyes directly, she answered, “Yes, sausage.”

To them, it was the funniest joke in the universe. They collapsed laughing on weak knees, and wiped tears from their eyes.

Then they noticed the cracks of sunlight.

“Shit,” Vistri whispered, realizing no one knew where they were. No doubt the others would be searching, possibly worried.

She looked to Astarion, who’d come to the same conclusion. He shrugged, tossing them back into a shared fit of hilarity.

“Guess we should get back,” he laughingly suggested.

“Gods! They’ll be raging!”

[tealfling]

I just did the most un-necessarily petty shit in BG3 for a pale vampire man that isn't. even. real.

So, let me tell you about it:

Blood Banks & Bartering

Act 2: the House of Healing & Morgue

[So Warning mentions of Blood]

named Tav: Amaranth, tiefling Cleric, she/her

Astarion x OC (Amaranth), named Tav

Summary: After Astarion's confession, Amaranth (Tav) decides she wants to menace everyone's least favorite blood vendor.

The newly opened chamber at the back of the morgue didn't offer fresh air, exactly, but at least it was clear of toxic fumes. Amaranth glanced around the room illuminated by the holy mace she wore on her back. Another surgical-type room.

"Everyone good?" she called to her team, trying to access Karlach, Shadowheart, and Astarion before they could reply. Having two clerics might seem like an off-balanced party, but they just made quick work of a nasty group of zombies, and Amaranth was rather fond of Shadowheart. The amethyst tiefling smiled with a sigh. She'd never say so, but this was her favorite team. One she tried to avoid grouping too often, lest she play favorites.

Speaking of favorites, Amaranth peeked through her lashes at Astarion.

The last few days with him had been...eventful. Just two nights ago they had an honest discussion about their feelings--free of witty banter and innuendo-- initiated by Astarion, himself, surprisingly. She could feel the warmth creeping into her cheeks. Amaranth had been giving Astarion more space than usual today, torn between wanting to amp up the affection and not wanting to overwhelm him physically, she'd been exceedingly mindful of his personal space. But when his vermillion gaze met hers, Amaranth took it as an invitation to prance over while the others fussed over their gut-covered gear.

"Thank you for dealing with all those vents in there. I'm not interested in giving anyone food poisoning later." she teased, flitting her tail coyly.

"It's the least I could do, Darling, for such a gracious host," hummed Astarion. Something over Amaranth's shoulder caught his attention and he moved closer to the back wall. "Is that blood on the shelves?" He clicked his tongue, "Probably cold and congealed. Ugh." He shuddered.

Amaranth walked up to the towering shelf of various jars and bottles. She didn't have the talent for scenting blood the way Astarion could, but she could still pick up a faint copper odor. The tiefling traced a finger over a shelf, gingerly tipping a bottle of dark-gelled liquid into her hand. Wishing she had her bag of Momento Mori, missing since the nautiloid, Amaranth made a mental note to explore the idea of blood jelly later.

Astarion continued in her ear, "These days, I get to enjoy a warm, fresh meal." Frissons ran down her spine when his breath left her ear. Guess we're back to flirting, Amaranth thought. Continuing on in his usual nonchalant manner, Astarion picked up the blood bank log book. He thumbed through it flippantly, "Quite the list of characters, but hardly my taste."

"The poison's gone now. It's safe enough to leave." Shadowheart called from the entrance.

"It's about bloody time!" Astarion snapped the book shut and reshelved it unceremoniously. "This dank, disgusting corpse-littered place actually makes me look forward to a bath at that old run-down inn," he griped all the way back to the door.

Karlach approached Amaranth as she began to set the bottle in its final resting place. The robust red tiefling shuddered. "Ew, there's just so many of them," she said regarding the vast shelf.

"Yeah, there is," the shorter purple tiefling chuckled, "Almost more than---" She paused. Araj would know what to do with. Was the end of a sentence never spoken. Interrupted by a mischievous scheme. The previous afternoon, the drow's gall had earned her a place on Amaranth's personal shit list, not far down from Cazador. The merchant's blatant disregard of Astarion's person and boundaries left the tiefling fuming. Astarion might not want to bite her, but Amaranth was more than willing to rip out her throat.

"Karlach," Amaranth whipped up peering up at her favorite Yes Man. "I feel like being a little shit, you in??!" she fizzed, a small fanged smile curling across her face.

"Fuck, Yeah!" This is why Amaranth loved Karlach.

Amaranth clasped Karlach's hands in her's leaving the jar in the other's palm, "Awesome! One sec--" she turned her voice to the elves waiting at the threshold, their collective patience rapidly declining. "You two can head back to camp, Karlach and I are going to rifle through the House of Healing then head back to Moonrise to sell what we find."

Both elves frown disapprovingly, "You can't be serious?" They spoke concurrently. Amaranth smiled endearingly.

"Darling, there's nothing here even remotely valuable. Why waste your time?" Astarion pressed, gesturing widely to the obvious filth.

"Because, Dar-ling," she purred, "every little bit counts. All this fancy, enchanted armor that protects our squishy parts needs a lot of upkeep." Amaranth said waving a hand down her armored body, popping a hip out playfully. "And, then there are the mouths at camp that need to be fed-" she pauses giving Astarion his moment to huff and puff. "I know, I know, collecting strays is my toxic trait, but don't forget Star, you were my first. And I'm just not filling enough for everyone to have a bite." Amaranth pokes with a drawl. "So, as the responsible 'leader,' that I am, I'll collect anything that can be sold so that everyone can get what they need to make this little adventure of ours more bearable. And any good leader worth their salt knows you two are done. You're all but seething in place. So, you can head back, enjoy a bath, we'll probably be back at camp before you're even finished." Amaranth reassures.

Shadowheart speaks first, "If you're sure. " The tiefling nods.

Astarion pinches his brow for a second trying to read Amaranth's big round silver eyes before he relents. "Tsk. Fine." He huffs.

As soon as the elves are out the door, Amaranth bolts to Karlach, rapidly laying out her petty plan in a single breath. "Got it? She wants blood? We'll give it to her. Grab it ALL. Whatever we can carry," she said through a fiendish grin.

Karlach bounced back and forth, "OoOooh this is going to be good!"

Outside, Astarion waited, leaning against the neighboring cemetery wall. Fidgeting with his dagger in hand. It didn't take much to convince Shadowheart that he wasn't in need of a chaperone, that she could abandon him. It was obvious that his favorite little traveling companion was up to something. But what? And why didn't she want him in on it?

There had been an unusual amount of...space, between them since his confession. Amaranth normally orbited him, finding ways to either outright include him in her daily tasks or be in his company while doing them. And today he found he actually missed that proximity, not to mention that delicious body heat an infernal legacy blessed tieflings with, like his own private hot waterskin. He was sure she'd be extra clingy when she agreed to a real relationship. Physical affection often flowed from Amaranth, her touch as expressive as her face. Karlach recently enjoyed being on the receiving end of many free, unprompted hugs. But for Astarion, Amaranth always seemed to dance around him during the day, dealing out gentle, careful touches in moderation. For a moment, he thought she might be reconsidering their late-night conversation about what this relationship might become, but she'd approached him earlier just fine. But then, why tell him to go? This was a first, and it made him uneasy. So, he lingered. He was good at waiting.

After a while, voices could be heard shouting as they drew closer.

"Found one!"

"Got another!" These two were the loudest creatures in the Shadow Curse.

Finally, the doors of the House of Healing flew open as the kicking leg stumbled forward. It took a second for Astarion to make out what he was seeing. That was definitely Amaranth, struggling to balance two heavily over-stuffed bags hanging from her front and back, as well as a series of smaller sachels dangling from her belt, and strapped to her thighs. The only telling sign being the long silver stands of disheveled hair freely falling where they wanted, no doubt from situating that backpack madness. What in the blazes is she doing? Astarion thought.

A pit of panic welled in his stomach when Astarion realized Amaranth wasn't catching her footing and the momentum would topple her over the first step of the entrance stairs.

"Careful soldier." A swift red arm lunged forward grasping the pack on Amaranth's back and pulling her upright. "You good?" Karlach chuckled, checking to make sure her smaller counterpart was firmly planted.

"Yeah, just watch that first step, Karlach, it's a doozy." Amaranth joked sarcastically, bracing her stance.

Relief began to wash over Astarion, enough to internally groan at her joke, but then....he noticed that strapped to Karlach's back, was not one, but TWO CRATES. What in the Nine Hells were these lunatics doing?!? This was madness. With every step they took, he could now make out the sound of glass rubbing together. The rogue stood dumbfounded. Not entirely sure what he was witnessing. What were they carrying? Did he even want to know? At this distance, he wasn't sure if the scent of blood lingered on them or if it wafted from their haul.

Every step the women took they grappled with their utterly encumbering loot. Each giggled like a fool through large fang-tip grins with wild eyes when one whispered some joke the pale elf wasn't privy to. Astarion's face pinched. It seems he was worried for nothing. The tieflings seemed like they had...whatever this was...in hand. Apparently not needing his--not that he wanted to put his hands all over the disgusting things they'd stolen. Perhaps he had wasted his time, and while a perfectly good bath waited for him. He peered in the direction of Moonrise. It wasn't that far of a trek from the House of Healing, across the street really if you imagined what the lay of the land might have been before the shadow curse. Seeing no reason to involve himself in their foolishness, Astarion decided to head back to camp to enjoy that bath the previous leader suggested.

Karlach's cackling entered camp first. The soft glow of her chest giving away her location. As she stepped closer into the light of camp, her purple companion came into view. Perched behind the larger tiefling like a backpack, Amaranth giggled and waved.

"We're back everyone and we got new loot!" The smaller tiefling said sing-song, lifting the pack from her back and swinging it around. Approaching the fire, she hopped down from Karlach and inverted the bag on the ground, revealing her spoils. "Disperse amongst yourselves at your leisure," she said to those gathered round, waving her hand over the various bottles of glowing liquids and items.

Astarion watched over his book from his tent. Amaranth was making a show for the others, but her eyes eventually meandered his way, locking with his. As soon as Karlach started chatting about their- probably- ill-gotten gains, Amaranth practically pranced his way. Her big bright eyes begged to be questioned.

"Alright, I'll bite, what did you do?" Astarion asked when the bubbling tiefling stopped before him. Her mischievous grin barely containing the words she wished to spill. “And why didn’t you want my help?” He jabbed.

"Well," she began nonchalantly, "Let's just say that tomorrow when that Sanguine bitch has a….” The tiefling paused for a moment, trying to find the right phrase, “clearer head, she'll realize she's the proud owner of every bit of blood the House of Healing had to offer." She almost laughed. Amaranth tilted her head so he would meet her eyes, “And I didn’t want you to have to be in her presence ever again.”

Astarion scoffed, placing his hand in front of his mouth as if scandalized, , "Oh my sweet thing, did you steal from her?" He wiped a fake tear from his eye, "I'm so very proud."

“Technically,” she articulated, “We bartered. It was an even trade really. I took everything of value she had- including that ‘once and a lifetime potion,’” Amaranth mockingly slurred. She continued, “While giving her every worthless vial of blood as disgusting and vile as she is that we could find. I’ve completely ruined her profit margins.” The tiefling waved her hand flippantly.

Astarion chuckled, “Well, let’s hope she never financially recovers.” Amaranth started to pull at her armor to remove it. Astarion moved around to help her with the shoulder buckles.

“Granted, I still plan on ripping out her throat with my bare fangs at the first available opportunity,” Amaranth gritted, slugging off her chest piece. “Maybe then she’ll think twice about talking to you or another spawn like that.”

“I don’t recommend it, Darling,” Astarion hummed, “she smelled absolutely wretched.” He spun his little tiefling around to face him. “But thank you for wishing violence upon her on my behalf, it’s very charming,” he said brushing a strand of hair behind her little pointed ear.

Amaranth leaned into his hand with a faux pout. “I just hate her so much. If I’m lucky, she’ll be dumb enough to be in Moonrise when we face Ketheric,” she said with a venomous smile.

Astarion hummed, “You’re adorable when you have murder on your mind my pet.” He leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead, but his target flinched away unexpectedly.

Seeing a flash of hurt in his eyes Amaranth quickly apologized, “Sorry. I just know I’m in desperate need of a bath and no one wants to dine from a dirty dish.” A soft half smile formed at the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, come now my Sweet, what's a little gore between friends?" Astarion drawled. "Besides, regardless of whatever ichor you're covered in, it'll hardly be the worst thing I've ever tasted. And it'll be made all the sweeter on you." He leaned in again, this time a hand pressed to his chest holding him back.

"But that's the thing, isn't it Darling?" Amaranth said warmly, an enchanting smile blooming across her face. "You said you wanted to be more than friends now, real lovers. And I want to give you more. More than you can imagine."

Astarion felt her tail curl behind his ankle, she probably didn't even realize she was doing it. He couldn't help but smile, it was like she was secretly hugging him.

"I'm here to raise your standards, my precious Star, you deserve the best my love has to offer. A clean, fresh face is the least I could do. I'll be quick. I promise it'll only take a minute. And I'll come right back to you, ok?"

Astarion sighed contently, "Alright fine."

"Fantastic," Amaranth beamed, "and you better be ready to cuddle when I get back!"

"Darling, how could I say no?" Astarion chuckled.

[thebrilliantretort]

The Devil and the Fool pt.1

˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙ ˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙ˈº̣͙⁺•̥͙⁺º̣͙ˈ˚̣͙✧

❈ Astarion x gn!afab!reader ❈

Masterlist

Summary: Y/n and several of their companions have a plan to interrogate some of Astarion’s siblings about what Cazador is planning. Unfortunately, things do not go as smoothly as anticipated.

Notes: !!!! Spoilers for Act3!!!!!! Bhaal cultist quest and Astarion quest, I say ‘gown’ in the story but I’m gonna link a suit here that I think would also fit with this scenario if gowns aren’t your thing, the gown I had in mind is linked in the story, this series was inspired by this drabble ❤️❤️

TW⚠️: pregnancy, mentions vomiting one time

WC: 3,410

Karlach and I laughed as we chatted, strolling through the lower city back to the Elfsong tavern. We had just picked up a gown from the Facemaker’s Boutique. Figaro was still feeling generous after we had saved him from a Bhaal cultist not too long ago. The gown was for a mission involving Astarion freeing himself from his master, Cazador. There was a kind of party or event happening which Astarion was sure that his spawn siblings would attend. More than a bit classier than Fraygo’s Flophouse where we had seen them earlier. They had immediately vanished into thin air as we approached, we assumed it was due to Shadowheart having equipped the Blood of Lathander. We all agreed that the best option now was to get into the party and have one of us play a decoy. Then, have one of the spawn “lure” the person back to Cazador’s lair or at least get them alone to interrogate. And the best person for this role had been voted to be me, seeing as I would be least likely to be recognized and/or loose my temper.

“Oh! Over there, you see that out house over there? Me and a few of my mates would wait for for some drunkard to go in a send a blast of fire through the door - watch ‘em run out with their pants around their ankles!” Karlach cackled, grabbing her stomach.

I slapped her arm as I laughed along as well. Humming as the laughter quieted down, suddenly our back and forth banter had turned into silence. The weight of the gown seemed so much heavier than before. Readjusting it in my arms, the crinkling of the covering and murmuring of civilians was the only thing breaking the silence. I could feel Karlach’s gaze on the side of my face for a moment before she looked back at the ground in front of her.

“Maybe… there’s another way, maybe someone else who could take your place?” She said softly, breaking the tense silence between us.

I smiled to myself. Karlach was always the sweetest, had her thoughts full and concentrated on others at all times.

“Karlach… we all know that this is the best and maybe only chance we’ll get to talk to them before the ritual.”

“I just… I think - I feel like you should tell him before going through with it.” Trying to speak carefully about the subject. I knew she disagreed with the way I was going about things with Astarion.

I had been feeling particularly ill the past couple weeks. At first, I thought nothing of it - we had been traveling and battling nonstop for who knows how long while Astarion had been drinking from me. That would make anyone feel unwell. But when the hunger, constant nausea, and vomiting began and most significantly missing my monthly bleeding I feared the worst. I went to Halsin to confirm, and he concuered that I was pregnant. I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of fear and dread - I had so many more battles to fight, so much more to do. The world was far from safe, how am I supposed to bring a child into it? How am I suppose to keep the child safe while it grows inside me when I can’t even keep myself from harms way? At the same time, a small piece of myself was almost excited. I’ve never put too much thought into being a parent. Would I even be a good one? The real question was how was I supposed to tell Astarion any of this? I knew he wasn’t particularly fond of children. I wasn’t completely sure why I was keeping this from Astarion, my main excuse was not to distract him. But it was almost as if I subconsciously wanted to keep it a secret so I could hold onto the idea of having a family, and having one with Astarion.

I simply looked at Karlach with a knowing gaze. She knows how I feel, my thoughts on the matter. I talk to her more than anyone about these things. Karlach is someone that I feel at ease with when confiding in them. She shook her and changed the subject.

———————————————————————————

“You sure this looks right? That I look right *in* it?” I huffed, tugging and pulling at the cloth. It was probably the most expensive thing I’d ever worn, except for the armor that had been looted during our journey. I stared at my body in the full length mirror in front of me, frowning. I can’t even remember the last time I got dressed up like this, it was so foreign to see.

Astarion made the final adjustments to the back of the dress and then placed his palms upon my shoulders. Though he couldn’t see himself, I could tell he, too, was staring at my reflection.

“You look absolutely exquisite, my dear.” He sighed, placing a chaste kiss on my cheek. I smiled and looked down as I smoothed out the fabric around my stomach. Painfully aware now more than ever of my predicament.

I did feel guilty for keeping this from him. I knew he could sense something was different, I’m not sure how - maybe it was my scent or maybe something different about my blood, maybe both. He had only asked me if I felt alright and things along those lines but there was no more inquiries beyond that. I know I worried him but I assured him I was okay and he took that whether he truly believed that or not.

I was subtly pulled out of my thoughts as I felt Astarion rest his chin on my shoulder. I turned my head to look at him while he snuggled his face into the crook of my neck. Wrapping his arms around my waist and squeezing tightly.

“Are you… you’re sure that you want to do this, love? Surely we can find another way to -“

“I’m positive, Astarion,” I quickly interrupted and stiffened, staring back into the mirror, “we’ve talked about this.”

I loosened from his hold and turned to face him. Gently placing my hand on his cheek, trying to meet his eyes but they were closed. He leaned his cheek into my palm and held it there. I frowned, putting my other hand onto the opposite cheek and pulled him forward to kiss his forehead. I stayed with my lips there for several seconds, squeezing my eyes closed.

I knew this was terribly dangerous, we all did. Even more so to the ones who knew of my pregnancy. I knew how important this was to Astarion, obtaining this information in order to free himself (and possibly obtaining unimaginable power). I wanted to do this for him, more than anything. This could be the last chance to get something from the spawn. If this failed, we’d be heading into Cazador’s lair completely blind. Which wouldn’t keep us from assaulting the manor but luring the spawn seemed much less dangerous than attacking with nothing.

I released his face from my grasp and brought my hands back to my sides. Taking one more look in the mirror, I breathed in deeply.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be back in no time. We’ll have what we need and everything will be better than before.” I wasn’t sure how much of that was for Astarion, it felt as though I was trying to convince myself.

Astarion wouldn’t be present for the party, the spawn knew him and his scent. We couldn’t risk them fleeing once again. We determined a meeting place in which Astarion and the others would intercept my being lead to Cazador’s palace. Though I wouldn’t be completely alone, Gale and Minthara would keep an eye on me while blending in with the crowd.

I turned from my spot in front of Astarion and began preparing the final steps of our operation.

———————————————————————————

“Let’s go over the plan one last time.”Shadowheart said, sternly.

We had all gathered in the center of the floor we occupied at Elfsong. Minthara, Gale, and I in our best party clothes while Astarion, Karlach, Lae’Zel, and Shadowheart suited up in their armor and myriad of weapons.

“The party goers will entire separately, with Y/n last - giving enough time for the others to get settled in. The rest of us will spread out around the interception point. Never let your guard down and stay alert, that goes for everyone. Stealth is key - understood?”

Lae’zel rolled her eyes at Shadowheart’s commanding tone and Karlach began hopping from side to side, getting psyched up for the mission - I’m assuming. I smiled to myself as I felt a wave of warmth and comfort knowing my friends will be with me. As the leader of the group, I did my best to put on a brave face. To control my anxiety, never let my palms get sweaty, never let them see me worried. Although at this moment, it was getting more and more difficult to do. But the knowledge that I won’t be alone, I’ll be safe without armor and weapons, helped a little bit.

After we all affirmed our roles, we headed out towards our assigned positions.

———————————————————————————

The noise coming from the manor holding the party was probably keeping everyone within miles awake. Checking my clothes and hair quickly, I breathed in through my nose and out my mouth quickly. It was time to begin my part.

As I walked toward the entrance, a handsome half-elf opened the door with a warm smile. I offered a small smile and nod back to him as I stepped across the threshold into the foyer.

The house was absolutely beautiful, and bigger than any home I’d ever seen. As I entered I was greeted with an extravagant front room featuring two sets of swirling marble stair cases that sat beside each other. The walls, a cozy cream color, were decorated with various paintings and portraits. Antiqued golden sconces with flickering candles lined together and the smell of bergamot and pine wafted throughout the manor. Several small end tables and some longer were scattered around the area covered with antique vases and little Knick knacks, candle holders and umbras, and flowers whose color matched the color scheme of the room. On the left wall was another entrance to what I presumed to be a ball room. The double doors open with a large crowd of people inside, mixing and mingling. I briefly stopped to collect myself before putting on my “naive and helpless” persona.

As I entered, the chatter, crowdedness, and the lights were almost overwhelming. I shook it off and tried to get myself accustomed to my surroundings. I looked around as a strode past the many clamoring bodies, all beautifully dressed and even more beautifully looking. Eventually making my way to a particularly lavish fireplace. The opening was almost as tall as I was and surrounded with intricately carved wooden forest creatures. The fire inside calm, not too big but not small either. I watched the flames for a few seconds as I tried to ground myself. I didn’t want to chance looking around for Gale and Minthara amidst the other party goers and focused on looking lost and bored. Hoping that my obliviousness would attract the spawn.

Perhaps I was being a bit presumptuous that my looks alone would lure one of the spawn to me without me putting in much effort. A half-orc came around, holding a tray of some kind of alcohol in glass goblets. I made eye contact with the server and she approached, offering me a glass. I quickly accepted and grabbed a cup. A couple people had come up to me, propositioning me for a dance or more. I politely shooed them away and continued to wait while faking sips of my beverage. I was about to start walking around and try to mingle - act like I belong - when a young man approached. He was dressed just as Astarion was when we first met and scanned my body with red eyes. This was definitely one of the spawn. I tried to control my body language as to not give away how excited I was that the plan was coming along as planned. So close to what we needed.

“Why hello there, darling, what’s a beautiful thing like you doing all alone?” He smirked, he was definitely charismatic.

“Well, I have been expecting a friend but it seems as though they had other plans.” I sighed, staring into my cup as I twirled the liquid around.

“What a horrible mistake they’ve made, perhaps you’d like me to accompany you this evening? My name is Petras, and you, beautiful?” He said as he stepped closer. Gods, to think of how many people fell for this, and Petras was only one of seven.

I looked up to meet his crimson stare as he continued holding a smirk on his lips. Tilting my head to the side and pursing my lips, as if considering my options. I tapped my finger against the glass and looked the crowd over, pushing myself off the wooden carvings.

“I suppose… what do you have in mind, Petras?” I smiled, reaching to play with his outer shirt.

“There’s a party happening at the palace of Cazador Szarr tomorrow night, it will be much more spectacular than this drab little gathering.”

He scoffed, side-eyeing the decor as if all this was nothing.

“Tsk, I was hoping for something to occupy me this evening…” I pouted, fingers tracing the stitching of his clothing down to his abdomen.

He looked around again, this time as if searching for something in particular. As if what he was about to say was something secret. He leaned in closer, almost whispering in my ear, but far enough to still be able to look each other in the eyes.

“Perhaps we could have our own little party, tonight at my place. What do you say?”

“That’s more of what I had in mind.” I giggled, cringing at myself on the inside. Hells, I’m not sure how much longer I could keep up this act.

Petras grabbed my hand and began to lead me out of the crowd. I quickly set my glass down on one of the tables and prayed to any god that could hear me that Gale and Minthara could see me or was at least aware that I was leaving. He wrapped an arm around my waist after exiting the home. I continued acting, giggling as we chatted and playfully hitting his arm. After some time, I began to notice that the path we had taken was not the one we had anticipated. Trying to control my anxiety and remain calm I casually mentioned that I had never been in this part of the city before. I knew perfectly well where Cazador’s manor was and this was not a path to it.

“Oh, it’s just a shortcut. I find this part of the city beautiful at this time of night.” He sighed while smiling. Something was definitely wrong. The only thing lighting the area was the moon and star light that shone through the trees. The ground was mostly grass with dirt patches placed at random. The cracked and crumbling stone walls where covered in foliage, flora seems to dominate this place more than anything else. Rarely disturbed by any creatures besides woodland. My panic began to rise in the pit of my stomach. The only weapon I had on me was a stake I had hidden, strapped to my side. As I tried to come up with some kind of escape plan, he stopped.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time.” He sighed, back turned to face me - he knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

The walls too high to climb quickly without being grabbed and pulled down and there’s no way to sprint back the way we came without him catching up to me. Perhaps I could talk my way out of this, or buy some time for my companions to realize something had gone wrong.

“You’re cute, but I feel a bed would better suit tonight activities.” Trying to continue to act as a clueless victim, looking around and trying to think quickly of how to get out of this, get help.

Petras turned on his heel and took several, slow steps towards my direction, like a predator stalking its prey. He tilted his head as he stood mere inches from my face, he brought the back of his hand up to my cheek.

“No, I believe this to be perfect. Just relax, my love.” His knuckles caressed my cheek as he began stepping forward again. I cannot let him back me into where ever he was trying to get me right now. I tried concentrating as hard as I possibly could for any solution, any means of escape, any sign that we were not alone.

Then, my back was knocked into one of the walls. My heart beat racing, and I knew he could hear it. Petras licked his lips, pausing after breathing deeply into my neck. I carefully attempted to gain access to the stake I had hidden in the side of clothing. He began to pull away with a confused look on his face when I was able to free the weapon and point it at his chest.

“I know for a fact that you are most definitely not allowed to feast on me.” I stated, pushing the tip of the stake into his chest. He began to back away as fear suddenly took over his features.

“I thought I recognized that scent. So where is that spineless runt?” Petras spat.

“Watch your mouth, I just want you to answer some questions about the Black Mass and I’ll release you.” I pushed the stake’s tip further into his chest, causing him to grimace. Damn, I scrubbed as hard as could to get rid of Astarion’s scent. It seems like it worked for the most part, until now. A rustling of of dried foliage abruptly interrupted our discussion. I relaxed slightly thinking that my companions had found me.

“Petras, I believe you were told to leave. Now look what trouble you’ve gotten into, what would have happened if we hadn’t been here?” A man snapped, coldly. Two figures stepped out of the shadows into view. The man, human (or was human), was tall with long brown hair and a woman stood beside him with pink pink and white hair. Both of their eyes matched Petras’, more of Astarion’s siblings.

“They want to know about the ritual, and they wreak of Astarion.” he grunted, the stake still at his chest, as he nervously looked at his siblings.

“Astarion? He’s alive?” The woman questioned stepped forward with a doe-eyed look. “Leon, we have to find him.” She pleaded. Leon firmly shushed her as he questioned me.

“What do you know of the Black Mass?” He inquired, taking a few steps towards me. In response I gripped the stake tighter and further pressed it back into Petras’ chest. Leon immediately paused.

“I know that you definitely do not want it to happen. Not much else.” Hoping to trigger their intrigue in order to buy more time for an escape. Petras chuckled, “Is that what he told you? Selfish bastard.”

My head snapped towards him and applied enough pressure to pierce his skin. Blood began to bloom underneath his shirt as he sucked air harshly through his teeth.

“Please, please don’t hurt him!” The woman yelped.

“Dalyria, please, silence.” Leon quieted her again. Dalyria closed her mouth and hung her head in defeat.

“So, Astarion got an innocent to do his dirty work. We should take them to Master, I’m sure he’ll follow to save his pet.” Leon instructed to his siblings. As if on queue, Petras harshly pushed me back and ducked as I swung the stake towards his chest. As I stumbled backwards Leon grabbed me from behind, gripping the arm holding the stake so tightly I’d be surprised if it didn’t leave his finger prints printed onto my skin. Dalyria quickly ran up and yanked the stake from my hand and threw it as far away as she could.

A loud pang filled my ears as everything disappeared and a black smoke enveloped me.

[shewhowas39]

a bantery sneak peek of chapter 6!

i'm hoping to post chapter 6 of Juniper & Starlight tomorrow, so here's a preview. this is a banter heavy chapter. enjoy.

***

“So. Four days in, and not a tentacle to be seen.”

“Mhm. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

“Naturally. But I was thinking - what if it doesn’t?”

June finally looks up from the book she’s been reading as the party has made their way along the rocky trails. Astarion is a bit impressed by this, really. How she can manage to have her nose so deep into a book and still manage to avoid every obstacle that comes into her path. More than once he’s considered just nudging a branch or a rock directly in front of her, curious to see if she would have the reflexes to avoid it while keeping her eyes on the pages of her book. 

But his little plan requires her liking him, so instead he opts for a conversation.

“Of course, the first sign of change, and I’ll have to stop that pretty little heart of yours,” he says, and immediately winces internally. This? This is his attempt at friendly conversation?

In truth, Astarion hasn’t had much friendly conversation in the past two centuries. It’s mostly all been seduction, flirting, or brutal verbal sparring with his “siblings.” It dawns on him suddenly that he doesn’t know how to have a normal conversation with someone anymore, and he feels the knife of grief twist in his gut as he realizes this is yet another thing he’s lost. 

June raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah. I reckon you will.”

Astarion can see it’s too late to backtrack now, but perhaps he can course correct. Steer the conversation in a more pleasant direction.

“I am open to suggestions. Knives? Poison? Strangulation?  Whatever you’d prefer?”

That was not the way to do it, though, he realizes once the words have left his mouth. If anything, he’s sure he’s just made this so much worse. Methods of death may be a fun topic to him, but he doubts someone like June is going to feel the same way. She’ll probably be horrified, and this pathetic attempt will just end up setting Astarion back.

To his surprise, however, June tilts her head in thought, as if seriously considering this question rather than running away in disgust.

“Well, I do got that wyvern toxin in my bag,” she says. “Poison might be the most peaceful, in a way, but…”

“Hm, no. I don’t think poison is for me,” Astarion says, suddenly flooded with relief that perhaps he hasn’t fucked this up as badly as he’d assumed. “Nor stabbing, come to think of it. I always felt decapitation was a fine choice. One good swing and then…nothing.” 

“Only if the person doing the swinging has a strong arm and a sharp blade,” June points out. “If you’re missing either of those, it ain’t gonna be fast.”

“Fair point. And I’m not certain any of our companions have the muscle to do it in one chop.”

“Shadowheart might. Or Wyll, but I don’t think a rapier is gonna cut it… No pun intended.”

Astarion grimaces. “No, I don’t want the experience of being decapitated by a rapier. And Shadowheart might make it slow just for her own entertainment. I sense a sadistic streak in that one.” He shakes head with a sigh. “Perhaps I need to rethink my preference. But we were talking about you. What would it be?”

June closes the rather heavy looking book and tucks it under her arm as she considers. “Probably stabbing? As long as you got someone with the right aim - and between you and Wyll, I think we do - it could be pretty quick.”

“A classic!” Astarion is almost giddy, delighted by what he thought was a disastrous conversation opener being entertained. “One good thrust to the heart and you’re gone! We’ll need a good blade, though.”

“Yeah. I reckon it’s like decapitation. Or any other form of killing. You gotta have the right tools and the right wielder or it’ll get real messy.”

“Absolutely. Oh, but there’s always magic, too, I suppose. I hadn’t considered that. Perhaps you could make my head explode with one of your loud thunder spells?”

“A good Shatter spell? Maybe.” June’s eyes are sparkling. She’s having fun, he realizes, and he’s pleasantly surprised to see it. “I could also do a Magic Missile. Three quick bolts right to your heart might stop it from beating.”

Astarion laughs. Not quite, darling, he thinks, very aware of the unbeating heart in his chest.

***

the boy just doesn't know how to talk to people abouta nything but murder, okay? lucky for him, this goody-two-shoes he's trying to seduce is also the fucking dark urge.

if you wanna read more, you can check the full fic out on Ao3 here.

[optiwashere]

This is a big one for the Asheera replay.

Context if you've missed things so far: I'm replaying the game as Asheera again for a combination of inspiration, reminders of characterization, and also to solidify how Asheera feels about a lot of the major companion moments in-game. I'm also way farther than this now so I'm probably going to speed up what content the replay posts cover...

Before we get to the main event, I wanted to go over some of Asheera's high level thoughts on the companions so far!

Karlach - Fast becoming good friends. Lots of silly banter shared in camp, on the road, basically wherever. Asheera enjoys hearing Karlach's stories about Avernus whenever she's willing to share them; it gives her better perspective on her oath. To see what some would call a monster, a woman that was on the frontlines of the Blood War, and call her friend?

Lae'zel - Still tense, but Lae'zel is coming around on Asheera. Asheera respects her in combat, the crèche is still a possible cure, and she still knows more than anyone else in the party about illithids. Side note, but Lae'zel thinks the situation between Shadowheart and Asheera is pointless given their condition. It's not even physical? Why bother?

Shadowheart - Growing closer, and the rest of this post kinda goes into why. Asheera is starting to hear her faith as zealotry and that's concerning, but it's also... sad? Asheera hears in her words something that triggers the redeemer's instinct to search for more than what's on the surface. She doesn't respect Sharrans (who would?) and she wonders what lies behind the fanaticism.

Wyll - He's everything he ever said he was and more. Asheera thinks he's just a good guy, and that's honestly something she needs on her side. He's quite flirtatious too, which is a fun break from fighting. She doesn't swing that way, but it's fun watching him fumble with literally everyone in camp.

Gale - Asheera is glad that she was wrong about Gale. He really is just eccentric. Maybe a bit egotistical and prone to overexplaining himself, but he's been a decent man so far and he did explain the entire magical item eating problem pretty quickly. Being able to trust a wizard is always good!

Astarion - He's just fascinating. He's an asshole and a blowhard, but he's at least open about it. That at least gives her something to work with. The whole "pretending not to be a vampire" schtick was getting old anyways. Plus, imagine the look on her fellow paladins' faces when she tells them she actually had a chance at redeeming a vampire spawn? That's worth the effort alone.

Now. Time for Shadowheart and her "oh btw, I worship Shar" reveal. Which, you know... wasn't obvious by the armor she wears to begin with or the gigantic purple tent with Sharran iconography stitched into it. It's always good to have confirmation!

But seriously, this is a really major moment for the Asheera/Shadowheart relationship.

After Asheera hears this confession, I have to just headcanon that Shadowheart's tent doesn't have the iconography on it. Otherwise this being a "reveal" is completely lost for me. When she first mentions it, Asheera is definitely surprised. Yeah, Shadowheart can be annoyed when Asheera acts altruistically, but it's never been something that comes between them really.

She said 2 in this dialogue by the way. It's a moment where she wants to put all their cards on the table. After a somewhat long discussion, Shadowheart then says something that completely changes the tone of the conversation:

At this point, Asheera sees Shadowheart. Really, finally sees her. Not the "shield of secrecy" that she preaches blindly, mindlessly regurgitating things she's been told about Shar. Right here, she sees pain in every word that Shadowheart says about her Dark Lady. There is a purpose to it all, that's what she wants to believe.

Not the pain. None of what Shadowheart says here is actually about loss, pain, or suffering. What Shadowheart yearns for is purpose and meaning. That's all Asheera hears, and her heart breaks for this woman that she just thought was going to be a distraction during their adventure.

It's also so massive for Shadowheart's characterization for the same reason. She's so deluded that she then starts spouting propaganda that's completely and totally false...

Like, Shadowheart?

Baby?

Shar advocates for literally none of that lmao. Sharrans destroy things that aren't Sharran and call that idolatry, they worm their way into organizations with assassination and manipulation to control them, and heretics are anyone that will not accept Shar. The level of brainwashed this girl is operating on with this dialogue is wild and it remains one of my favorite convos in the game even on replay.

For Asheera, she hears the absurd self-justification in Shadowheart's words. She is almost melancholic throughout this conversation except when she's talking about Sharran ideals. Suddenly, she becomes angry. Like it's a learned response from decades of abuse to force her into the mold she's been randomly chosen to fit.

Asheera's heard zealots before. At this point, even if their situationship never becomes anything more, Asheera is convinced that she needs to know more about this woman's pain. Maybe there is a way to help her?

Side-note: Shadowheart's defensiveness towards her own abuser is so fitting that it's kinda hard to watch on replay, knowing what we know about her entire arc. "So long as it has meaning..." what if there is no meaning, Shadowheart? What if it was entirely arbitrary?

That's what Asheera's thinking during this.

Furthermore, when Asheera learns that she's had her memory deliberately suppressed — and combined with the pains from the wound on her hand — it's basically red flags galore. She's not used to dealing with someone so thoroughly... unaware of her own situation. Asheera is very much a "charge headlong into the situation" type person for the most part, even if charging means a discussion rather than a fight.

Yet Shadowheart thinks that she can have everything she ever wanted if she appeases her own abuser. Horrifying.

I find this single approval tag so fucking telling. The approval tags can sometimes be broken and multiple in one branch can be directly contradictory depending on the sort of "route" you're trying to bring a companion down, but there's no alternative approval/disapproval in these choices. Everything else is neutral, but this one touches her.

Like, at this point we all know that Shadowheart is a deeply wounded person that wants to believe in something so that she four decades of suffering was for something, but the fact that she approves of you offering to help her with her wound is so... there's an entire essay to be written there.

It's unreal. She goes on and on and on about how Sharrans must remain free of all but their love of Shar. Her (perverse, abusive) love of Shar is literally physically symbolized in the stigmata she carries.

And she approves of Asheera trying to ease that pain? I think Shadowheart rationalizes this as Asheera trying to help her be a "true" Sharran and avoid the pain altogether, but that's not what the dialogue says. Nor is it Asheera's intent. Her intent is to help her ease the pain.

Now, there's lots of ways to read Shadowheart's wound as a depiction of chronic pain, and I don't want to take that away from folks. Love that for y'all, but in "my canon" and with Asheera specifically this is a moment where Shadowheart reaches out, hand held open hoping for anything or anyone to reach back, and Asheera is the first person that doesn't swat her away in fear or call her a failure for not adhering to her religion.

She takes Shadowheart's hand willingly, ignoring all the traps and knives Shadowheart's set up to protect herself. Why was sharing everything so easy? Secrecy is supposed to be what Sharrans need, after all. Why was it so easy for someone to listen to the way she speaks and for them to say, "I'd be lying if I said [Sharran faith] didn't sound convincing."

So long as it has meaning, right?

Also, I keep forgetting to take screenshots of Asheera's Dream Visitor and since they were brought up in one of the Companion!Tav asks...

Here she is in the character creator because I think the next time I see this character they will look quite a bit different lmao. Seeing this person in her dreams doesn't startle Asheera, it's not uncommon for her to dream about this person but then this dream version of that person begins speaking strangely. It makes Asheera immediately distrustful of this thing, whatever it is, once it starts speaking freely and saying things that this person would never have said.

[sorcerous-caress]

How does Sol get along with their companions/ what do the companions think about them? 👀 If you don’t mind talking about it!

I re-attach wings to angels each time someone asks me about Sol <3 don't worry about the abundance of wingless angels it's unrelated.

This was written assuming Sol is not Tav and is just another companion. Also it's...mostly negtive, Sol isn't easy to get along with, and they don't make it easy for others to like them.

Sol with the companions

Astarion

Act 1: they start indifferent to him. They're not the brightest when it comes to people lying, so his horrible acting and shady backstory flies over their head. During the vampire reveal, they try to pretend that they knew all along. You can pass an insight dice check of 5 to very easily tell they didn't know shit.

The only thing they bond over is being vain. He mentions not seeing his own reflection and they're concerned about how he does his eyebrows then. He fully agrees that it is a struggle and don't get him started on the mess that is styling his own hair.

He'd probably approve of the fact they sacrifice defence and movement for beauty, the whole pain is beauty thing. Honestly both of them are bad influences on each others and just enablers when it comes to bad habits.

I mean he could try to talk them into letting him bite them, if he convinced them that it'd make their skin clearer, it's a 50/50 chance if it'd work or he ends up microwaved.

Act 2: You know how people in cults don't realise they're in one? Sol didn't think their upbringing was that bad or what their family did was that extreme until Astarion started talking about what Cazador did to him and how he loathes him for it, how much he wants revenge. It made Sol think if they too should be seeking revenge, if they too should be loathinh their family. They go from indifferent to curious.

Act 3: they haven't made up their own mind on whether it's a good idea for him to seize the power from Cazador or not. By that point they also need to make a similar choice about their magic, but instead of remaining the way the are like Astarion, they need to pick between losing it all or taking it all. They've grown fond of him by that point as a friend, he points out when someone is clearly lying or manipulating them and they appreciate that. Likewise they are always blunt to him with no ulterior motives.

Shadowheart

Act 1: Sol would be annoyed by the fact she's keeping secrets, and I can see Shadowheart disliking them because of it, and because of their clear appreciation of Lae'zel. Both of them unpolitely avoid each other, a few jabs every now and then, a few trashy comments thrown during party chatter, but nothing major, really. At the end of the day, it's annoyance and not hate.

Act 2: By that point when her and Lae'zel made amends, Sol slowly grows closer to Shadowheart as well. They still do their jabbing and nickpicking each other's flaws but it's more in good humour by now, mean banter is just Sol's way of being playful or showing affectionate and Shadowheart is a champion at it. During her Dame Aylin choice, they say it's best to let Shadowheart decide her own fate and not interfer, both Tav and Shar.

Act 3: When the hard truth downs on them that Shadowheart wasn't keeping secrets but had her memory fully wiped, they find themselves actually feeling guilty for their actions at the start. Guilt is something Sol rarely does ever feel. It's new, raw, and all-consuming, and they can't deal with it. If you have them romanced they'd confide in you with it, maybe you can go tell it to Shadowheart on your own and they'll get annoyed that you did that without their permission, but also thank you for doing it for them.

Gale

Act 1: full on bullying. They absolutely see him as a joke. Especially the Mystra part oh they never shut up about it and how stupid it was of him to try and appease a god back into a relationship, how naive he is for thinking gods ever see mortals as anything more than toys to play with and discard. Digs at him being a wizard, at how he is just borrowing magic while they were born with it, how his view is so narrow-minded. The thing about their "bullying" is that half of the criticism against him is valid and actually make sense, which makes Gale can't stand them because of it, he knows some of their words are right even when the rest is exaggerated bullshit.

Act 2: If you romance him, then Sol tells you to reconsider, that jumping into a relationship with someone who was obsessed with their ex is never a good idea. That Gale isn't who he seems to be, they might be bad at telling lairs apart but there are some things a person can't hide. Then the news from Elminster comes, and they're speechless when Gale actually seems on board to sacrifice his life. To blow himself up for something as stupid as the future of the world or a goddess. They think it's absolutely the dumbest idea he has ever had, and if he thinks their opinion of him was low before, then it just got even lower if he actually goes on with this plan. They tell you that you should never let that happen, they themselves don't know why they feel so strongly about this when they wouldn't have cared if he died in that portal before.

Act 3: they finally know why. They want him to die for himself, not die for someone else, not die for forgiveness. He should get a normal stupid death like all wizards do, he should blow himself up in a silly experiment or something not go on a suicide mission for a goddess who couldn't bother to get off her own ass to see him or a world that doesn't even know his name. They have a serious talk with him if he somehow can siphon their own magic to feed his orb. If you ask if that means they'll lose their magic, then they just stay silent. They aren't surprise when he becomes obsessed with the crown of Karsus. They claim they predicted it happening eventually, be it the crown or another magical artifact. You can pass an insight check to find out they're telling the truth.

Lae'zel

Act 1: probably the only companion they actually liked from the start. There is something about her so familiar. Her sharp mean words feel like home, and her bluntness is a breath of fresh air. They are absolutely vibing with her through the whole journey, keep introducing her to Faerun concepts and human traditions. Make a joke about how they're a descendent of a red dragon, and she's a githyanki, so this must be fate.

Act 2: they didn't think they could respect her even more, and yet when she stood in front of Vlaakith and faced her, her courage almost stunned them. They genuinely admire her, start looking up to her in a way they deem embarrassing to admit, and try to hide it. Start hinting at how they'd love her as a friend.

Act 3: The way she manages her emotions so well and doesn't hide from them but faces them instead is something they thought was impossible to do. How can she do it so easily? Why did no one ever teach them this? How can she accept her new fate just like that when everyone in camp knew how dedicated she was to her cause and peoppe? And how did she manage to find a new cause to fight for do it quickly? Lae'zel to them is the kind of hero you read about in history books. She is the closest thing they'll ever have to a role model. What started as an easy friendship because Sol felt at home around "rude" people quickly became Sol's first ever actual genuine friendship. In a way...maybe it was Lae'zel's too.

At the end of the game, they're very against the idea of Lae'zel turning into a mindflayer if it's brought up. If you're playing Lae'zel origin, then they'd offer themselves instead, something they'd never do for the others or Tav. For their only and first ever friend, they're willing to give up their life.

Wyll

Act 1: is a bit suspicious at the fact he is too charming and nice, at least Astarion has his very clear personality flaws which made his lie fly over their head. But with Wyll he feels too true to be good and they tell him that which he brushes off with a laugh. Then the whole Mizora fiasco is discovered and they're like "Ha, I knew it!"

Act 2: they thought he'd be delighted to her about his father being imprisoned, it means the power will rightfully be his now, right? So why is he putting so much effort into searching for a parent who abandoned him, why does he forgive his father and still care? They don't understand Wyll.

Despite the three of them being humans, Wyll and Gale are the two companions Sol would never understand no matter how much they try. If anything Sol felt left out, as if none of them could relate to one another's struggles. Being human clearly was never enough to build a bond between them.

Act 3: They see the reunion between Wyll and his father and bitterness fills their mouth, realising their own family wouldn't have gone through the same effort. Jealousy, envy at Wyll having something they desperately wanted. Sol is clearly more powerful than him wasn't it for his pact with a devil so why should they feel inferior to him? They shouldn't...but he has so many friends, so many fans and he seems...content, happy.

How dare he be happy when he is this weak, how dare he forgive his father for casting him out, how dare he learn from his past mistakes and aim to better himself rather into crumble into self loathing for being a fraud. Wyll is everything Sol wasn't and couldn't be. Weak and happy.

Karlach

Act 1: she doesn't seem surprised by their attitude but she never banters back with them, they're aren't sure what to make of it. Her skin is thicker than they expected, probably because nothing Sol could ever say or do hasn't been said and done by the devils in hell in a way that's ten times as hurtful. Karlach went through a lot and Sol is barely a scratch on her surface. But what really takes them back is the fact she is still kind to them? It fully weirds them out how nice she is to them, how one time she asked if their draconic lineage gave them enough fire resistance to hug her. Sol didn't know what to say, they just shook their head. If anything they too can't remember the last time they were hugged, the last time someone even touched them in a non threatening way.

Act 2: when her engine gets fixed, Sol curiously asked her if hugging was as much of a disappointment as they knew it would be for her. Instead she hugged them and they remained speechless for the rest of the day. Couldn't even pretend it didn't effect them, hugs are actually nice, they found out.

Act 3: she calls them her friend and Sol wonders how the fuck did they get to that point? Even their morality is as grey as their a rainstorm but Karlach somehow looked past that, past their insults, past their fits of jealousy and past their unstable emotions and saw a person. Sol never considered her a friend so why did she? It can't be that easy to make a friend, yes they can't be the one in the wrong no. Karlach is definitely the one in the wrong here, she should raise her standards for friends and not just throw the word around, she might give someone the wrong idea.

She's dying, they watch her struggling against the flames of her heart and they wonder if this is the same fate awaiting them. If this is why their training was so brutal, why their family was so stern, why their life was so ruthless. Just so they can live? So they remain alive and not succumb to a death like Karlach's.

So why did she seem happy. Why did world life seem so much more colorful than Sol's. Why did she go out with a smile as they remained alive but miserable. For once Sol wonders maybe if the dragon heart inside their chest didn't belong to them, wonders if their own heart was too stolen from them before birth. They feel like they failed her as a friend, like they never appreciated her enough. That by the time they were ready to call her a friend, she was already gone. Left back to the hells or left the world of the living.

-

By the act 3, like the other companions they soften up and start considering friendship. Start paying them actual compliment and stand by them

Tell me if you want me to do Halsin and Minthara too because this was really fun <3 thanks so much for letting me gush about my unlovable little fireball.

[dolceaspidenera]

Hii! when I read your post about bg3 and what could be better, it’s like you I’ve read everything on my mind. I love this game, it’s an absolute masterpiece, that’s an undeniable truth. I desperately wanted sth like this after I fell in love with DA games. the minute I knew I can romance Astarion I jumped at the chance - because LOOK AT HIM!! and they’ve given him the BEST voice actor, the BEST character backstory- better and richer than any of the DA characters had. he feels alive, everything in his behaviour and motivations makes sense, the whole breaking the cycle of abuse is incredibly deep. And really makes me crave for more..more party banter, more things to talk about overall. there are certain shining moments between him and Shadowheart, moments where she teases him or is curious about certain things. YES GIVE ME MORE OF THIS overall with all the companions!

100% agree about how it is frustrating that companion reactions get overridden. I romanced Asta and wanted to hear his reaction to the owlbear and he got blocked by Shadowheart. why??? if anyone has sth to say let them say it.

Now I’m gonna rant a bit about Asta’s content in act 3. there’s quite a big difference between act 1 and 3 in terms of camp cutscenes. while in act 1 you have to long rest pretty much constantly to see everything that’s queued up, in act 3 it isn’t necessary. act 3 feels much emptier esp when it comes to Astarion or Karlach. Cazador isn’t involved in the main plotline so there’s no incentive to deal with him unless you really want to help Asty. Karlach and her soul coins - i didn’t understand their purpose, guess it was scrapped. same as the possibility for Asty to explore different ways to release himself from Cazador’s clutches, to be able to stay in the sun. as it is now there’s nothing for him, just a throwaway dialogue option added last minute that you’re going to look for the solution together. that solution should have been available in act 3–another scrapped content—necromancy of thay. as it stands now - I think mainly because of this missing content, there’s only one option to help Asty see reason to refuse the ritual and even that requires high persuasion check. all that we’re given is one good choice (which you can’t probably pass with a non-charismatic character) and two bad choices with one of them being No I won’t help you which does not give you any additional chances to reason with him. which there should’ve been especially if he’s romanced and on the highest approval. lastly, we should’ve been given a waaaay more satisfying conclusion - once again as it stands now, it deeply hurt me to watch him run away from the sun with nobody expressing any sort of concern for him whatsoever. he deserves better. and i’m too old and tired to write a fix-it fic about this 🙈

the end of rant 😅

Hi! Thank you for sharing your opinions with me 😊 I agree with you, I would've preferred, for example, fewer shiny objects and more party banters/cutscenes with our companions. Especially when it comes to friendship interactions, you really feel a lack of content. They are all amazing characters and I wish we could spend more time with them, it would have been cool to have something similar to the Citadel DLC in Mass Effect.

Regarding the companions' reactions that override each other, if Larian is hell-bent on leaving it like that, I hope there will be some saint modder out there who will be able to get rid of this mechanic. I'd do it myself but unfortunately I know nothing of how mods work 😭

And Yes, after completing the quest for the characters there's 0 content after that unfortunately when it comes to interactions in camp. Don't get me started on our best girl Karlach, they really did dirty to her. Her confrontation with Gortash is the most anti-climatic thing I've ever seen. She gets angry, understandably so, for like 5 minutes, and then that's it, everything is back to normal. AT least give us a cut scene with her stabbing the hell out of Gortash, them staring in each other eyes while he dies, give me some pathos, something! It's supposed to be the climax of her narrative arch, c'mon!

There's definitely a lot of cut content, I don't know if it's because they ran out of time or they were having budget issues, maybe a bit of both. I hope they will add them back later but I honestly doubt that. Unfortunately, the ending is really lacking as well, you can really see that they ran out of time there. Larian promised they would fix it, so I hope they manage to put together a satisfactory epilogue for all the characters. I reeeeeeally hate Astarion's ending in particular, there's no way my character wouldn't run after him to make sure he's okay and to comfort him. It would have been cool to have at least a party like the one with the tieflings in Act 1 to properly say goodbye to all characters (Dragon Age Origins really nailed it in that sense, even if it's brief you have the chance to speak with all characters and ask them for their future plans after the final battle).