#wyll ravenguard x oc

[medra-gonbites]

The Treasure among the Scales

One shot chapter. Wyll had always dreamed of encountering a Merfolk. As he strolled on the beach to calm his nerves he comes across a very special specimen.

Pairing: Wyll x Unnamed Fem!OC

NSFW - Fluff & Smut, Aquatic sex

Words: 3269

Merfolk! At long last. As a child he had always been mesmerized by the tales and legend of the sea dwellers. He had almost drowned chasing after them in the Baldur’s Gate Harbor. He had carried this fascination into adulthood but despite his many adventures through the Sword Coast, he had never actually encountered one before. Until today.  He opened his eyes wide in front of the creature, awed by the vision but her distress soon replaced his wonder. She was caught in a tight fishing net, flopping around on the sand, only making the line tighten around her with each jerk of her tail. Wyll cautiously approached, curiosity and concern in his eyes. He carefully knelt down next to her, trying to find the right spot to start untangling the net. When the creature saw him she hissed. A warning for him to back away. Wyll flinched a little but quickly regained his resolve; he was going to help, no matter what.

Read the rest on AO3 or under the cut

“Wyll, be reasonable! We can’t save everyone, that’s just irrealist! Tav argued, shaking his head disapprovingly, his fists firmly on his hips, “Please understand…’

“I am not even close to understanding you!” The young man spat.

At these words the warlock stormed off camp, baffled by the lack of nobility in his leader's endeavor. Blowing the foundry without saving a single Gondians. Without attempting to even. 

They couldn’t save everyone, no. But the Blade of Frontiers always tried, at the very least. 

He walked around Rivington trying to regain his composure. It was not like him to lose his cool but he was growing tired of Tav’s “grey areas” and his sempiternal compromises. Good and Evil. There was no in between for Wyll.  There was complexity in these concepts, sure. but good always came as the obvious choice to him. “Where there is wrong, there is doubt”, he repeated this mantra as he absentmindedly headed down the slopes that led to the coast.

In his contemplations, he had instinctively taken the route to the seashore and when he reached the beach he found himself soothed by the landscape and the consistent hush of the waves rolling on the sand. He strolled around, admiring the horizon, the salty sea spray tingling on his tongue. He picked up a stick from some flotsam and swung it idly sideways in a fencing display.

A small shriek came to interrupt his recreation. He froze, not sure if he had dreamed or heard correctly. Another whine rang in his ears and he followed the sound down to a cluster of rocks further down the beach.

He found the source of the noise to be…

Merfolk! At long last. As a child he had always been mesmerized by the tales and legend of the sea dwellers. He had almost drowned chasing after them in the Baldur’s Gate Harbor. He had carried this fascination into adulthood but despite his many adventures through the Sword Coast, he had never actually encountered one before. Until today. 

He opened his eyes wide in front of the creature, awed by the vision but her distress soon replaced his wonder. She was caught in a tight fishing net, flopping around on the sand, only making the line tighten around her with each jerk of her tail.

Wyll cautiously approached, curiosity and concern in his eyes. He carefully knelt down next to her, trying to find the right spot to start untangling the net. When the creature saw him she hissed. A warning for him to back away. Wyll flinched a little but quickly regained his resolve; he was going to help, no matter what.

“Just stay still for a while. I'm here to help.” He tried to reassure her.

He attempted to carefully get her free, but the net was a big mess of strings and knots. He needed something sharp to cut through it. He cursed himself for leaving his sword back at camp. 

The mermaid writhed and growled fighting against the tangles and the more she flopped, the tighter they got. In her panic she was just making things harder. Her tail was bleeding slightly, the strings digging harshly in her scales, breaking the skin. The young man looked down at the cut and saw it rip further with every jolt she sprung.

“By the Hells. Stop moving!” He urged.

Faced with her erratic movements and her alarm, he had no other choice. He grabbed her and tried to pin her down so she couldn’t move. She hissed at him furiously in response. Hoping to be able to convey his sincerity as he spoke if he could at least have some eye contact with her, Wyll grabbed her head and forced her to look at him. She blinked, her golden eyes fixated on him, slit pupils retracted into mere vertical stripes.

“I won’t hurt you, I swear. I just want to help…” He promised, in a softer tone of voice.

He was not sure she understood but whether his words had gotten to her or not, she finally stopped stirring. Wyll took in the sight of her for the first time.

She was beautiful. Her turquoise tail was shimmering in the light of the sun. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, brown wavy locks adorned with pearls and coral beads covering her chest and her abdomen. She looked just like he had dreamed her as a child. Just like he had read in his favourite books.

After a moment she let out an irritated growl. Wyll snapped out of his reveries. He glanced around quickly, trying to spot something, anything that could cut the net. Something shiny caught his eyes. A short distance away from them, half buried in the sand, was a broken glass bottle. Its shards looked sharp. Sharp enough to cut the ropes, perhaps. 

The creature was still fixing him with intense and unblinking eyes. It was very hard for Wyll to look away. But he had to.

“Try not to move, alright? I need to go get something. Do you understand?”

She hissed once more, bearing sharp fangs at him.

“I’m going to take that as a yes..” Wyll retorted.

He slowly got off of her, ready to grab her again if she tried to move but she remained still looking at him, her eyes locked on his face. He went and dug up the broken bottle. He ran the pad of his thumb over the pointy edge of the glass. It could definitely cut the net. 

“Alright, I’m going to try and cut the net now, okay?”

When she saw the bottle, its sharp shards on display, the mermaid began to thrash again, hissing frantically.

“For the love of Balduran…“ Wyll groaned.

He grabbed her by her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Please trust me. I’m trying to save you!”

She hissed, softly this time, as her tail settled on the wet sand. 

The young man started to work on the ropes. He sawed the net, carefully and delicately, making sure to not accidentally scrap her tail in the process. He could feel her tremble under his hand and was doing his best to release her as soon as possible, knowing she was panicked and terrified. The trap loosened more and more with each broken stitches. Finally, the last string snapped, and the net ripped open. 

Wyll sat back with a sigh of relief, looking over at the merfolk; she was finally free. With a slither of her tail, she immediately dashed into the water disappearing into the waves.

“Wait..!” Wyll exclaimed.

She emerged from the water at his call. A pair of golden eyes piercing right through him from the waterline. Her eyes were mesmerizing.

“Can you… Speak?” He asked

She observed the young man for a beat before playfully squirting a thin jet of water at him. He yelled out in surprise as water suddenly splashed in his face. He wiped his eyes, the salt stinging a little bit. He smirked.

“Oh, now it’s on!”

He ran to the shore and flailed his arm in the foam to spray water in her direction.

“Just because you’re a merfolk doesn’t mean you have the advantage!”

The mermaid lifted her tail and let it drop, smacking the surface of the water, sending a wave in Wyll’s direction. The force of the impact made him lose balance and he fell backwards on the sand, soaked.

“Fair, maybe you do.” He chuckled.

She laughed. It was a sound that surprised him. It was crystalline, clear, playful and it made Wyll’s heart lighter. And it was a nice change to the constant hissing he got before. She stared at him curiously. Her gaze was slightly unnerving. A little intimidating even. 

“I’m Wyll.” Wyll said, pointing at himself.

“Wyll…” She articulated.

The young man opened wide eyes and a smile stretched his lips. He had supposed she did not speak common, but at least she could speak his name.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“Nwyhrwyhydfs*” She whistled.   

Aquan. Wyll could not understand it, let alone speak it. That many fricatives was impossible for his mouth to handle. Still, there was a nice ring to it. It sounded like the crashing of small waves on peebles.

“That’s a nice name…” He ventured, “Suits you.”

The creature crawled out of the sea and propped herself on her elbows to come lay in the sand next to him. She unceremoniously grabbed his face, one webbed hand on each cheeks and studied his features. Wyll flinched, taken aback by her sudden touch, but relaxed into her hand eventually. 

“Pretty!” She purred, her eyes scurrying over his face.

Wyll felt his cheek burn with a blush that crept all the way to his neck. Coming from her the compliment was extremely welcome.

She chuckled and let go of his cheeks to look at his jaw and neck marveling at the smoothness of his skin and the absence of gills. She soon got distracted by his hands, similarly enthralled by his fingers and how they were deprived of webbings. She went on to investigate his legs, gripping his calf and bending his knee back and forth and rolling his ankles. 

It was a bit strange to be probed and manhandled like this, but Wyll found her curiosity endearing in a way.

“That’s right; no gills or webbing. Pretty bare compared to you, he?” He teased.

She lifted a hand and caressed one of his horns. Wyll suddenly felt a little self- conscious with her gaze on his infernal appendage, his amusement fading, replaced by woe.

“Ah, yes… Those are… The price I paid for doing what’s right…” He stated, his voice low and heavy.

The creature cocked her head to the side. She was not really grasping what he was saying but she could very well see the sadness and hurt in his eyes. She suddenly grabbed his wrist and tugged toward the sea.

“Wyll! Swim!” She exclaimed.

She rushed back to the water and waved at him, an invitation to join her. He hesitated for a moment, but the enthusiasm in her gestures and her smile, settled his reserve. He slowly walked over to the edge of the water. He kicked off his boots, took his armor off, leaving him in his undergarments. He deposited his gear in a neat pile by a rock.

“Pretty…”The mermaid mewled, her eyes as wide as saucers as she drank in his form.

Wyll blushed again at the second compliment. He could feel his face getting warmer with embarrassment and just a hint of something else. He gingerly dipped one foot in the water, making sure it wasn’t too cold. He shivered as it was in fact colder than he expected but he braced himself, immersing his lower body into the shallows as he got closer to her.

She was overjoyed and started to swim around him in circles. Wyll had no idea what this meant but he was enjoying seeing her happy and excited; a stark contrast with how he had found her earlier. Her tail undulated in the waves, a phantom caress against his legs.

She took his hand and dragged the young man a bit further into the sea. Somewhere where he had no foothold, by which he was a little thrown off. He was not a bad swimmer by all means, but he did not expect to be pulled away like that. He darted a wary eye toward the bank behind him, staying afloat by moving his arms around.

Seeing the worry in his eyes, the mermaid wrapped her tail behind him so he could sit on it and not strain himself. He reclined into it, relieved not to have to flounder around.

Out at sea, Wyll let himself be gently rocked by the waves, his body weightless. The sun was warming his face. The water was lapping at the nape of his neck, keeping him cool. Here, away from everyone else he could finally clear his mind. He let out a deep sigh as he relaxed.

The creature stared at him still, her eyes never leaving his face. He opened an eye -his good one- and gave her a mischievous grin.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Pretty Wyll.”

Wyll was starting to get a little flustered by her attention; he wasn’t used to receiving so much positive acknowledgement as of late. She drew closer to him. His heart began beating quicker as her face aligned with his. She took his hand in hers, palms against palms. The webbings between her fingers made it impossible for them to intertwine. 

Her long hair was now floating around revealing her bare breast and Wyll realized how much skin he could see. Left speechless by the view, he could not tear his eyes away. Not overly courteous of him. He was feeling tempted to pull her even closer. He was dragged away from the enthralling sight of her shape, as she spoke to him.

“Thank Wyll” She said, her golden irises focused on his own.

“No problem…” He answered with a soft smile, “And thank you. For bringing me out here in the water with you… It’s nice…”

She leaned forward and Wyll felt a flutter in his stomach at the sight of her lips approaching his. She ran a finger down his cheek, tracing delicately along his jawline and he shuddered at her touch. She placed her other hand over his heart. The organ drummed a fast beat as her hand petted the plains of his chest. 

Wyll was entranced, drawn in by her eyes, her face, her body. Everything about her was just so… alluring. She purred as he cupped her cheek. As the caresses went on she pressed her lips against his ear.

“Pretty…” She whispered. 

Her breath was warm against his lobe. Her hand ran down to his stomach, and he stifled a moan as it trailed further down. Forgetting all traces of restraint he pressed his mouth against hers, his tongue breaching her lips to come and taste her. There was salt and iodine on her tongue and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine when he heard her whimper in response.

She took hold of his other hand and placed it on her breast. Spurred on by her boldness he eagerly kneaded at her skin, the pad of his thumb flickering on the hardness of her nipple. She let out a whine into his mouth, the sensation causing goosebumps to prickle over the skin of her arms. 

Her kissing growing more heated she guided his hand away from her cheek, down to a spot below her hips. A spot in her scale. An opening, vertical, soft and warm. Wyll's breath hitched. He grew lightheaded, his heart racing as he understood what this spot was. He did not dare enter. He kept his hand on the slit, fingers rubbing gentle circles around it, feeling the texture, his touches light and shaky. 

She moaned as his fingers brushed against her seam. A little moan which sent a thrill of excitement through his core. A sound that made him more audacious and made him want to explore the area more firmly.

“Wyll!” She cried out, as he adventured two fingers inside her.

Hearing her say his name like that, her body pressed up against his, and his hand on that spot; It was all too much in the best way possible. She bucked her pelvis against his in a swift tug. Reaching under his briefs, she freed his length and aligned him with the folds in her tail. She broke their kiss to give him a dazed look, begging to replace his fingers with himself.

He pressed against her entrance, his body trembling as he felt the warm, soft sensation against his own. He arched his back and held still for a moment, overwhelmed by an array of sensations he had never  felt before. After a moment he started to move but found it difficult to get a proper pace. The gravity in the water seemed to be working against him. The mermaid wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her tail around one of his ankles to prevent him from drifting away and she began to buck into him rhythmically. 

Wyll closed his eyes, abandoning himself to this new intoxicating bliss. His breaths were fast and ragged. His body tensed up. A fire was building up in his abdomen ready to burst. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think. There was nothing else but her body against and around him. She screamed his name as she reached her release in his arms, tightening around him, a grip that sent him over the edge as well. A jolt of pleasure shot through him, so intense his vision blurred. An ecstasy he had never experienced before.

In the after shock, he felt himself drifting off, his chest heaving and his mind hazy. He did not even comprehend it fully when she gently took him into her arms and swam back to shore. She delicately placed him onto the sand, the water still lapping at his legs and feet.

He slowly came back from his torpor when he could not feel her embrace any longer. He opened his eyes, trying to gather his bearings, blinking drowsily at her as she hovered over him. She planted a soft kiss on his lips and a tired smile slowly spread across his face.

"Goodbye pretty Wyll." She murmured.

Her words forcibly brought him out of his daze as if he had been splashed with ice water. He propped himself on his elbows, struggling to move much more than that.

“Goodbye? Where are you going…?”

Before he could finish his sentence she had crawled back to the water and disappeared under the surface. 

“Wait… Don’t go just yet…” He whispered, more to himself than to her, as she had already dived back into the sea.

He managed to push himself up into a sitting position, scanning the waterline for any sign of her at all. Alas, he saw nothing but water. She was gone. His heart sank a little, as he faced the fact she would not be coming back. 

As sadness and melancholy welled up inside his chest, Wyll felt something light and oval in the palm of his hand. He uncurled his fingers, looking down to see a scale. He brought it up in front of his face, studying it. It was smooth, opalescent, shiny. Oscillating between turquoise and teal in the light of the sun.  It was unlike any scale he had seen before. 

He shivered as he recalled the feel of her under his hand. The sound of her moans. His name on her lips. He clutched the precious plate in his hand, yearning at the thought of her. He was grateful for that pretty gift.

A memento of their aquatic dance. A token of their passion.

As he dreamed their encounter again he noticed the light around growing dim, the sun setting in the horizon. He needed to go back to camp. Go back to conflict and pain. Go back to fighting.

He managed to get to his feet, a little wobbly at first and went to retrieve his clothes. He hastily got dressed, shoving the scale into a pocket in his belt. He glanced at the waves one more time, hoping to maybe see her again but the surface remained unbroken and still. 

Wyll sighed longingly, grateful for that moment of solace she had granted him in her arms…

---

*Neyreda in Aquan (which seems like a difficult language to pronounce and spell!)

[wizardelf]

pros of dating bhaal spawn they won't tell you about

[panksage]

✨Dancing Lights✨

Look at these sweethearts! Vibes and Wyll are so cute! Vibes is a brainchild of @swedishjazz

[pearlll09]

Post canon, my wyllmance Tav, Sylhorn, and Wyll adopt a young tabaxi. Due to some miscommunication, Gale is concerned they kidnapped him. Chaos ensues 😂

Transcript under the cut

Panel 1: Gale: I received your urgent message and came as fast as I could. What's wrong?

Panel 2: Sylhorn: It's not that urgent.

Wyll: You have some experience with cats, Gale. Can you help us with ours?

Panel 3: Gale: Oh. Of course I can help, offer tips to ease the process of new parents. Let's see the kitten!

Panel 4: Tabaxi

Panel 5: Gale: ... That is a child.

[gale-dekarios]

spellcaster boyfriends & melee girlfriends

bren (left): mine

suki (right): @yourleastfavouritelesbian

[ion-mailbox]

A Nice reprieve from Studying

Art challenge from the Wyll server (specifically Emmakennedy on insta/ @pomegranateeater here who drew Wyll) .

I imagine this an au where it was an arranged marriage of sorts and where Tiamat never happened so the deal with Mizora never happened.

[fools-of-faerun]

It's a mystery for the people of Baldur's Gate.

[abysskeeper]

They're parenting their nerdy, awkward, teenage son through his first major breakup encouraging their bestie through an incredibly difficult time and really hoping he doesn't explode.

[reagan-the-saunders]

I. Love. My. Fictional. Couples.

[bakuliwrites]

Mirror, Story One: Vessel

Disclaimer: Post-Game Spoilers!!!!!!

Next Story

Rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI) for Eventual Smut

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Relationship: Astarion x Tav (OC)

Summary: With Baldur's Gate saved and Cazador gone, Astarion and his beloved work to try to carve out a life for themselves. But freedom does not come without its complications and challenges.

An anthology of short, post-game stories featuring Astarion and my Tav, Orlando.

Chapter Tags: BG3 SPOILERS, ACT 3 SPOILERS, Fluff, Angst, Comfort, Grief, Mentions of Character Death, Depression, Telepathic Bonds, Kisses, Hugs, Karlach hugs and soft kisses from Wyll, Past Tav x Gortash, Ceremonies, Healing from Trauma

Read here in this post or over on my AO3

The streets of Baldur’s Gate are full of mirth, construction paused so that its citizens might celebrate the very fact that there is a city left to rebuild. They dress in their finest, flooding the streets with celebratory joy. Alleyways strewn with rubble are filled with dancing revelers. The air, thick with settling dust, is light with warbling song. And the night sky brightens with shimmering fireworks, sparks fizzling down into the harbor. Vendors sell delicious treats and memorabilia to remember the day Baldur’s Gate was freed from the Absolute. While the city proper is alive with good cheer, anticipation thrums through Wyrm’s Rock as people try to squeeze into the audience chamber, eager to catch a glimpse of the famed Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. They all murmur to one another, whispering rumor and speculation, peering excitedly at the motley crew of adventurers standing before the throne.

“I heard the Duke’s son made a pact with a devil and that’s why he has those horns now.”

“They look quite fetching on him, don’t you think?”

“Is it true that one of the Tieflings has got an engine for a heart?”

“Oooo, bet she’d keep me nice and toasty at night.”

“That pale elf is rather handsome, don’t you think? Mischievous looking, too. Bet he’s a boatload of trouble.”

“I’ve never seen a Tiefling with webbed ears before.”

“Rumor has it that she and Gortash were quite the item.” 

Meanwhile, Astarion fidgets restlessly where he stands, a dour expression on his face. He does his best to entertain himself by tuning in to all the various theories being slung back and forth throughout the hall. There’s plenty of rumor, true or otherwise, to keep him distracted from the empty feeling that has pervaded him since he awoke this afternoon. As the sun sank beyond the glittering waters of the Sword Coast, Astarion found the elation of the last several weeks gradually emptying from him, like a slow leak in a cracked bottle. Has it really only been a little over a tenday since the defeat of the Netherbrain? Battling the Absolute feels like a lifetime ago, and yet, the deep exhaustion makes it seem as if Astarion and his companions fought only this morning. His sore muscles and creaky bones need months to heal. And his foggy thoughts, even longer. He feels weary already from this evening and nothing has even happened yet. It’s nice to be honored, he supposes, but it also seems, perhaps, a bit too much, a bit too soon. He’s hardly had a moment to breathe.

A gentle caress draws him briefly from his swirling thoughts. Orlando’s lips feather kisses along his cheekbones, sending a gaggle of young men and women into a bit of an uproar near the front of the crowd. She chuckles at their nonsense before cupping Astarion’s face in one hand and smoothing her thumb over his cheek. He leans into her caress, letting his eyelids flutter shut. 

“You look lovely, my darling,” she whispers in Astarion’s ear, the tickle of her breath sending delightful shivers up his spine. The outfit he sports is one Figaro tailored just for him: a royal blue tailcoat with feathered, gold embroidery and a white undershirt with a frilled high collar. His knee high boots are made of black leather and have the slightest kitten heel. Orlando helped him pick the shoes, which are both comfortable and stylish, perfectly showing off his shapely calves. 

Astarion casts a coy look at her, crimson eyes dragging up the length of her body. Orlando looks bewitching in her black and gold robes, swirling tentacles embroidered along her collar and sleeves. She is every bit a formidable warlock and sorcerer, enigmatic and not to be trifled with. And yet, her gentility shines through even her most severe apparel. Her dark hair, long now from many months of journeying without a haircut, cascades down her back in ringlets and waves. Astarion delicately tucks a loose strand behind her webbed ears. Her bioluminescent spots over her eyelids and on the shells of her ears twinkle in delight. 

“And you, my dear, look ravishing,” he purrs, savoring the blush that dusts her cheeks. Before their flirtations can go much further, the din of the crowd softens as the grand doors are flung wide once again. Counsellor Florrick and Grand Duke Ravenguard make their way to the dais, taking their places aside the ragtag team of adventurers who somehow managed to save Faerûn from the doom of the Absolute. 

Wyrm’s Rock lulls to a hush, silenced by a simple flick of the wrist from Counsellor Florrick. Astarion feels the eyes of hundreds fall upon him, upon his companions, and a sudden flutter of anxiety tickles his lungs. He shifts uncomfortably, hardly one to stand on ceremony. He cannot recall the last time he addressed a crowd as large as this. Back in his years as a magistrate, public speaking was not unfamiliar to him. But in the two-hundred years since, it has become nearly as foreign to him as the sun on his skin. 

“Don’t worry, my love,” Orlando had reassured him earlier that evening, “Wyll’s in charge of the speeches today.”

Astarion hopes this remains true. It was already hassle enough to request this gods-forsaken ceremony be held at night, rather than in the morning like it had initially been suggested. He thinks of the hullabaloo that would ensue were he to open his mouth and flash the sharpened canines housed within. He can’t even begin to fathom the uproar that might occur were it to be discovered that a vampire spawn is one of the Heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Though, stranger things have happened, he supposes. Flying brains wasn’t exactly on his docket for this year. And neither was the adoring woman beside him, flashing a loving look his way just as the festivities officially begin.

The voice of Ulder Ravenguard drones in the background. Astarion is far too focused on looking poised to pay any attention to what the man is going on about. Praise, no doubt. Camaraderie and pride, blowing smoke, yadda yadda. It’s all well and good, but there’s a million other things Astarion would rather be doing with his freedom than sitting through some long winded speeches. The after party promises to be far more entertaining than the ceremony itself. Karlach has challenged everyone to a dance off, which Astarion would gladly pay to see (though he’s not sure he wants to participate). And the after-after party with Orlando promises to be a delight, as always. He catches her eye once again, smirking devilishly at the coquettish beam that plays on her lips. His mood brightens for a little bit after this small exchange.

As the evening wears on, however, the chilly emptiness begins to creep in again. An inexplicable untethered feeling; like he’s adrift in the ocean, unmoored and without direction. Astarion and his companions each gain a crimson sash, heavy with medals of honor and valor. Ordinarily, Astarion might scoff at something so- heroic. But in the wake of the vacuum forming in his chest, he feels a swell of pride when Florrick greets him with a smile, lowers the sash over his head, and moves aside to adorn Orlando with one of her very own. The crowd erupts into cheers, applause, the hall overflowing with joy, relief, elation. Astarion feels their energy burst within him, pushing aside the icy chill in his heart, chest filling with an overwhelming sense of gratification. 

Until anxiety rears its head once again, sudden and without explanation; and all excitement peters out, a flickering candle snuffed out by rain. A thousand eyes on him. Eyes in the shadows. Lurking. But he cannot tell if it is something real, a malignancy out to get him, or if what lingers in the darkness are the ghosts of his past. He searches the faces in the crowd for one in particular, but he cannot find the narrow face of his master, the hateful glowering gaze. And why would he?

Dead and gone, he reminds himself, I killed him, myself. I watched him die.

Relief has not found Astarion, yet. He cannot help but look over his shoulder when he travels through empty alleyways. He cannot help but cower in the shadows at the slightest hint of sunlight. He winces at the sharp calls of hawkers in the market, as if their cries are admonishments for his failure and not promises of goods. His back prickles, tiny needles stabbing his scarred skin, the memory of a blade carving his flesh still poignant in his nerves. There is blood in his mouth, rat fur trapped in his teeth, the horrible crunch of bone when he bites down. Red eyes in the dark, eyes that aren’t there, but seem to leer at him from ages long gone. He has not dared venture anywhere near Cazador’s Palace, now abandoned, but still no less frightening. 

When will it end, this feeling of paranoia? Shouldn’t it be gone by now? Shouldn’t Astarion be feeling the full rapture of his freedom? The full force of ecstasy that comes with the unshackling of his bindings? Shouldn’t he be feeling- happy? And not whatever this hideous, soul-sucking vacancy is? 

Beside him, Orlando’s breath hitches in her throat. Astarion can feel that same lacuna in her, that same draining emptiness. Behind her soft smile is a deep sorrow, an immense exhaustion Astarion, himself, is wholly familiar with. Her eyes reflect a weariness etched permanently into her soul. He nudges her gently with his elbow while the crowd is distracted by Wyll’s rousing speech. They’re seated now, in one of the pews near the front. The Tiefling smiles weakly at him, intertwining their fingers when he slips his hand into hers.

“What troubles you, darling?” Astarion whispers, nudging at her thoughts with his own. They are forever bound, a telepathic link born not of the tadpole, but of Orlando’s eldritch heritage, a gift from her most generous patron. Astarion cannot use it very well and she is still learning, one toddling step at a time. But they each can use it well enough to pass secrets back and forth, or gossip from across the room at parties and what not. However, sharing memories seems to come easy to them both.

Orlando lets him in. The familiar exhaustion of months on the road is first to greet Astarion. He knows that feeling all too well. The constant walking. Gods, the endless walking and jumping and climbing. If he never has to hike again, he could die a happy vampire. Roughing it in tents, trying to find comfort in thin sleeping rolls, and bathing in whatever water they could find has sapped him of his vigor. It has been an absolute godsend to be able to sleep in a comfortable bed and bathe in an actual bath tub, even if it is at the Elfsong Tavern for now.

Deeper than this surface-level exhaustion, however, is a pervading sense of weariness in Orlando’s soul. The pain of her childhood: searing sunlight, brackish water, coarse salt, and jagged rocks. Harsh words thrown at her by a tyrant father, fleeing, and wondering if she’ll ever be safe. A brief reprieve, immense love, shared laughter with her mother and brother, the bustling harbors of Baldur’s Gate, the smooth ocean against her scales, freedom and independence. Confusion, uncertainty. And then darkness: trapped in a dank basement, confined to the shadows, lost and confused, separated from her loved ones, now the property of a devil. This all merges and congeals with the pain of loss throughout these last several months. Betrayal, anguish, ruin. Innocent lives lost, and for what? Tadpoles and brains and undead armies. The death of her father, a complicated and raw recollection. The severing of her tie to his despotic patron. Joyously reuniting with her own, M’aheth, Daughter of the Cosmic Sea. Being named Twin Star, honorary daughter. The pride that comes with such a title. 

Orlando’s thoughts lift for a moment, recalling her relief when she and her mother and brother finally became free of their ancestral ties. But something Wyll says sucks her right back down into wallowing.

“Gone are the tyrannical days of Enver Gortash,” Astarion hears Wyll’s voice call out to the crowd. A soft murmur ripples through the room, some voices resounding in approval, others in staunch disappointment. That name is a complicated one amongst the citizens of the Sword Coast. For Orlando, it sparks an aching sorrow, a bereavement riddled with anger and shame. The memory of Gortash lingers strong in her mind, mournful and rife with confusion. Astarion feels this pain on the fringes of all her thoughts. Images of Enver as he was, youthful and mischievous, sweet and intelligent, gifting Orlando a tiny, mechanical figurine of a mermaid, flit before Astarion’s eyes. These images do not compute with the ones that follow: Enver lording over Baldur’s Gate, cool and uncaring gaze sweeping over enslaved Gondians, dead citizens, and pools upon pools of writhing tadpoles. Orlando’s mind struggles to contend with the sickening squelch of the metaphorical knife she plunged into the lordling’s back, an eternal curse falling from her lips out of anguish, a final kiss in his dying breath. Laying motionless at his side, for an engulfing eternity, staring vacantly into an abyss she almost couldn’t return from. 

This abyss enshrouds Astarion’s vision for a moment. Suddenly, Cazador blips into Orlando’s thoughts, and it’s then that Astarion realizes the focus has shifted to his mind. The agony of stolen youth pummels him, sunlight bright and warm on his skin, a forgotten memory. Blank eyes gazing at him in a mirror, eyes he cannot remember the color of. Arrogance, pride, power in his early years as a magistrate. And then pain, body broken and mind fuzzy as he’s beaten senseless. Fear as he realizes he is going to die, and he is going to die alone, in some stinking back alley of Baldur’s Gate. Fear turns to hope- a figure emerging from the shadows, austere, angular face swimming into view, promising he can save Astarion. Promising an end to his suffering.

Icicles in his neck, pinpoints of pain. And then emptiness. Dirt, loam, stifling and cold. His fingernails bleed from how hard he is scratching the inside of- dear gods, this is a coffin. Screaming, wailing for someone to help, please help, he’s been buried alive. Clawing his way through the earth, the first sweet breath of fresh air, only to retch. Rotten blood burbles in his throat, foams in his mouth. And then darkness, for two-hundred years. Darkness and agony, self-hatred and ruin. 

Orlando squeezes Astarion’s hand, drawing him back to the present. He sucks in a breath, as if he’d been holding it. As if he has any breath to hold. He re-orients himself. Wyrm’s Rock, ceremony, Wyll’s boring speech. Astarion settles, quietly pressing a lingering kiss to Orlando’s temple. He feels her mind almost sigh in relief. The contact settles her thoughts and the desolation seems to wash from her mind in a gentle sweep of comfort. Suddenly, Astarion is bathed with the rosy warmth of adoration. All thoughts of Cazador disintegrate, turning to ash and sifting away. Orlando offers up an image of a house he’s never seen before: built out of cream-colored stone, a lush herb garden skirting the perimeter, smoke rising from the chimney. Astarion feels cozy in this vision, the scent of rosemary filling his nose, lungs blooming with warmth.

“Your home?” he puts forth, limited to simple questions by their infant telepathic link. Perhaps this is her childhood home, the one she spoke so fondly of when it was just her, her mother, and brother. Orlando shakes her head, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Ours,” she corrects, squeezing Astarion’s hand. He ruffles her thoughts with his surprise, his excitement. He wants to ask her more questions: did she buy it already? Is this a house that actually exists or just the idea of one? What does she mean “ours?” But before he can, he feels her thoughts shift. Now, he sees the two of them on the road, packs slung over their shoulders, hand-in-hand as they traipse through a sparsely wooded area. Fresh air, bright and clean in his lungs, and a clear night sky. The world is aglow with moonlight, a silvery band of stars streaking across the heavens. There is a promise of tomorrow in this vision, of possibility. Of adventure. 

“Adventure, with a home to return to,” Orlando posits, a well of joy overflowing in her heart, “Not ready to settle down quite yet.” 

She winks, knowing Astarion is just as restless for adventure as she is. Though having a home to return to would be more than ideal (less hiking that way, more resting). How long has it been since Astarion had somewhere he could call home? Somewhere that wasn’t a dungeon or a jail. How long has it been since he’s been allowed to go where he pleases, when he pleases, how he pleases? They could go anywhere. Excitedly, images of Waterdeep, Chult, Neverwinter, Avernus, even, pop into Astarion’s head. Orlando stifles a chuckle from beside him, beaming brightly at the vampire’s enthusiasm.

Wyll’s speech comes to a close. Duke Ravenguard instructs his son and his companions to rise from their seats so that the citizens might thank them one more time. The audience chamber is filled once again with raucous cheers. Looking around, Astarion sees the faces of his fellow adventurers. His friends . He sees the faces of his fellow Baldurian’s, jubilant and proud. Astarion feels simultaneously overwhelmingly full and painfully empty. Cheers ring in his ears and it's as if all of Baldur’s Gate is pouring itself into him. The world is ahead of him. Life is ahead of him. Freedom. But there is something terrifyingly vacuous about knowing he is free. With both everything and nothing to look forward to. Where do they go from here? Astarion’s veins fill with an icy cold at the thought of having to carve out a life for himself. 

Orlando gestures for Astarion to lean down, crashing her lips to his in a passionate kiss, thawing the anxious chill that had begun to numb his fingers. Astarion pulls her close, caught up in the exuberance of the moment, caught up in the reminder that he is not alone. Karlach, beside herself with excitement, tears in her amber eyes, pulls the little group into a massive, crushing hug. Warmth spreads through his body, fills his limbs with a tingling joy. Wyll squeezes Astarion’s free hand, presses soft kisses to his, Orlando’s, and Karlach’s cheeks. There is uncertainty, and that is the only thing Astarion can, funnily enough, be certain of. But in this moment, he is reminded that he will not be facing his uncertain future alone. 

“Our home,” Astarion repeats to Orlando after a little bit, having to shout over the roaring applause, “Our adventures.” 

“Our future,” she returns, stealing one more kiss before the adventurers are led out of the audience chamber, followed by shouts and cheers. People spill out into the streets, ready to spend the remainder of the night in carefree revelry. Astarion pauses at the threshold, the shining city of Baldur’s Gate ahead, his nearest and dearest companions at his side. 

Deep breath. Release. 

Wyrm’s Rock exhales, and Astarion is free.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I wanted to write a post-game story for my Tav, Orlando (a Sorlock), and Astarion. I've been a little bit all over the place with writing down her story (as in, I can't seem to write it down in any particular order). I have a couple things up on my Tumblr about her and I do plan to write a story that takes place during the events of the game. But for now, I had an itching to write some post game content, so here it is.

Some notes: this occurs post-game with Vampire Spawn Astarion, Orlando and crew managing to stabilize Karlach's heart (which I wish you could actually do in-game), and Wyll managing to rescue his father. Orlando was severed from her Warlock patron with the insertion of the tadpole, but has since reunited with her patron, M'aheth (the baby of another Great One patron called the Cosmic Sea). She comes from a family of Sorlocks that worshipped a cruel Fathomless patron, but Orlando managed to sever her ties with her family and the Fathomless. She and Gortash were trapped in the HOH together and were in an on again/off again relationship for many years. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I'd be happy to answer. More info to come. I mostly wanted this story to be about her and Astarion adjusting to living a life of freedom. Most of this story will be about Astarion, but I wanted to give a little context for some things mentioned in this chapter.

*Edit (02/09/24): Changed a line about Gortash’s death.

[shewhowas39]

sneak peek of Juniper & Starlight chapter 8!

now that the fun smut is out of my system, i'm back to work on this angsty chapter of Juniper & Starlight. hoping to get it up tomorrow. but here's a sneak peek.

CW: mentions of character death and Act 1 Dark Urge spoilers

***

Drawing closer, Shadowheart finally spots June. She’s curled in the fetal position on the ground, drenched in blood and with tears streaking down her face. Beside her, laying half-out of her tent, is the brutalized body of a horned figure. It’s so damaged - so mutilated - that it takes Shadowheart a moment to even recognize it as Alfira. 

She stares, stunned, for a moment, unable to speak even as the others shout and demand answers.

Alfira has been murdered.

And June is covered in someone else’s blood.

“You don’t remember?” Wyll sounds incredulous. “This poor girl has been stabbed dozens of times. She was stabbed even after she was dead. And there’s a bloody knife on the grass beside you. How can you not remember?” 

“I don’t know,” June sobs. Her eyes are on the corpse. “I don’t know, but I didn’t - I wouldn’t - I…”

“Bullshit!” 

Wyll is holding his rapier out in front of him, ready to strike June down. But June isn’t even looking at him. She’s doing nothing to defend herself. 

“Oh, please, you cannot be serious.” Astarion sounds bored, but Shadowheart can’t help but notice that he steps forward, angling himself so that he’s partially between Wyll and June. Not completely blocking her, but enough so that if a fight were to break out, his quick reflexes would give him an upperhand. “If she doesn’t believe her, we can hardly hold it against her. It’s not like the bard was all that important as it is.”

“Every life is important,” Wyll argues.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree.”

“You’re saying you believe her, then? Believe that she doesn’t remember doing this? Mudering an innocent woman in her sleep?”

Astarion gives a lazy shrug. “Doesn’t seem all that strange, does it? Her mind seems elsewhere often. And she has amnesia. Unless we’re questioning that, too?”

“Perhaps we should.”

“Astarion,” Gale says, looking tot he pale elf. “You were meant to be on watch. You didn’t see anything?”

“I was patrolling the edge of camp,” he says. “I thought I was meant to be keeping an eye out for outsiders - vampires, goblins, more irritating strays clambering to join our party. I didn’t think I needed to pay attention to what was going on inside the camp. My mistake.”

“A shame,” Gale says. “It would be helpful to know what really happened here.”

“I must’ve done it,” June whispers. Her eyes have not left Alfira’s face this entire time. Shadowheart doesn’t think she has blinked, even. “But I…I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t - I like her. I don’t wanna hurt people, but I keep having these visions and thoughts and I…I…I don’t remember. I don’t remember. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” 

“Could this be the parasite?” Shadowheart asks, finally finding her voice as the reality of this scene settles in. “The worm? Could it have caused this?”

“Unlikely.” It’s the first time Lae’zel has spoken. She stands at the edge of the gathering, arms folded over her chest, looking thoroughly unmoved. “This would be unusual behavior for a ghaik tadpole.”

“And it’s also unusual that we’re all still tentacle free,’ Astarion points out. “I hardly think we can assume these worms are typical.”

“Hmm.” Lae’zel scowls but says, “You make a fair point.”

“So you all believe this?” Wyll asks. “That she was controlled? That she doesn’t remember doing something so heinous?” 

“Dearest Wyll, June here has shown herself to be as obnoxiously heroic and generous as you are. I hardly think she has it in her - when she’s in her right mind at least. I’d assume the same if it was you covered in blood this morning.” He steps aside and does a dramatic sweeping gesture toward June. “But, by all means. If you insist on cutting her down while she’s a blubbering mess on the ground, I won’t stop you. I just would’ve thought it beneath you.”

***

more trauma to come when the full chapter goes up soon!

[dez78]

Shadows of Faerûn

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Chapter One: Darkspawn Rising

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Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 and Dragon Age: Origins Mashup

Pairings: Astarion x OC Artemis, Zevran x OC Liana

Warnings: Eventual Smut, Violence, Blood, Gore, Mentions of past trauma (eventually)

Rating: Adult 18+ (Minor DNI)

Words: Probably over 1K

Summary: Five days after the Elder Brain's defeat, Faerûn faces an even darker threat. Through corrupted magic, the Darkspawn of Thedas invade, carrying with them a Blight unlike any Faerûn has ever seen. As alliances are tested, the heroes of Baldur's Gate must unite with new allies from another realm to stop the spread of destruction.

AN: Artemis is my elven tav with ruby eyes and white silver hair, she is a fighter/sorceress. Liana is my Dalish Warden with brown eyes and brown hair, she is a warrior.

------------------------------

Chapter Two link below:

It's only been five days since the defeat of the Elder Brain and Faerûn was already in danger again. Strange rifts have been opening all across the realm. Artemis and Astarion heard some rumors of strange rifts while enjoying an evening in the Elfsong. Shadowheart traveled to the city for answers because one of her father's farmer friends, abandoned his homestead after encountering a dark creature. Karlach and Wyll had already left for Avernus, but Gale was still in Baldur's Gate with Tara as well as Jaheira, Lae'zel, Minsc, and Halsin.

------------------------

Night falls over a crumbling ruin deep in the wilderness. Artemis's party is camped outside, having arrived earlier to investigate sightings of strange rifts and creatures, that have been reported the last couple of days from multiple adventurers. Some even saying their friends never came out and they heard horrendous screams, so fearful they fled.

Even the Flaming Fists came to investigate, they have not returned either and Grand Duke, Ravenguard sent them out two days prior.

Shadowheart tends to the campfire, Gale is studying the creatures and their magical properties, and Astarion keeps watch from a nearby tree. The faint growls of Darkspawn echo in the distance, keeping everyone on edge.

Artemis was sitting at the campfire on a log, her keen ruby eyes fixated on the ruins, watching for any movement. Minsc was talking with Boo, Jaheira and Lae'zel sharpened their dulled blades and Halsin tended to Scratch.

Gale worked tirelessly to discover the background of the creatures, he's been nose deep in ancient tomes since the first disturbing rifts started appearing four days ago, taking various notes.

Then finally he had a breakthrough. Most of the companions gathered around the campfire as Gale read from an old book.

"According to these notes, these creatures that were described by every adventurer that have come across them, are called Darkspawn. Foul creatures that live realms away in a place called Thedas." He explained. He showed them the picture drawn in charcoal.

"That is definitely the creature." Jaheira commented nodding her head firmly. She had seen this creature herself three days prior, she dared not get close to it until she knew the details.

"What are they doing in Faerûn though?" Artemis questioned; Gale furrowed his brow.

"I haven't a clue. It should be impossible, but some dark magic has made it so they could travel to different realms of existence." He replied dryly as he swept through the pages of the book.

"Any other notes on these creatures we should know?" Shadowheart asked.

"Yes, according to other texts. These creatures can create something called a Grey Warden. Men, elves, dwarves, and humans. If they drink the blood of this creature, they become something, something I can't quite explain. Few survive the ordeal however." Gale explained.

"Who would purposely drink the blood of this foul creature?" Shadowheart snorted in disgust. Gale looked up,

"Because they are the only ones that can permanently kill an Archdemon." He said, the camp fell into an eerie silence.

"That sounds oddly ominous." Astarion commented from his perch.

"From the texts I have gathered from Thedas history. Archdemons are creatures believed to be their old gods manifested in the form of powerful and terrifying dragons and are tainted with darkspawn blood." Gale explained, remembering his recent readings.

"There could be more than one?" Artemis said drearily,

"Yes, but do not fret. I'm sure we don't have to deal with one of them!" Gale said, though the doubt in his voice was obvious.

"So how do the Grey Wardens tie into this?" Halsin asked.

"According to what I have read, anyone can kill an archdemon, but when they do its soul is transferred into the nearest darkspawn and it reincarnates. Because grey wardens are tainted by darkspawn blood when they're around the archdemon's soul gets transferred to them instead, which kills both entities permanently." Gale explained.

"That's dark." Was all Artemis said. A small squeak came from the rodent on Minc's shoulder.

"Yes Boo, I am afraid too." Minsc said in a trembling voice.

Artemis stood, scanning the horizon with a sense of unease. She turns to her party.

"Stay sharp. Something doesn’t feel right. The Darkspawn are too quiet suddenly." Artemis says with caution. A low growl from Scratch confirms her instincts, and Lae'zel stands and grips her newly sharpened weapon tightly.

"If these Darkspawn are anything like the Githyanki's enemies, we must prepare for blood." Lae'zel sneered. Before Artemis could respond, Astarion drops silently from his perch.

"We’re not alone. A group approaches—armed, disciplined. They don’t smell like Darkspawn, though. Shall we greet them with swords or smiles?" Astarion smirked.

-----------------------------

On the other side of the ruins, Liana's party moves stealthily through the trees, guided by Leliana’s scouting and Zevran’s sharp eyes.

"Hold formation. Darkspawn could be anywhere, and we don’t know who else might be watching." Liana warned her party.

Alistair lags slightly behind, muttering to himself.

"Why is it always creepy ruins? Couldn’t the Darkspawn pick somewhere... nicer?"

"Because creepy ruins make for dramatic stories later." Liana said with a soft smile. Morrigan steps forward, her staff glowing faintly.

"Someone has already made camp. Let us hope they aren’t foolish adventurers who will get in the way." She comments. Shale rumbles with disdain.

"If they do, I’ll crush them into paste. Simple." Shale said.

--------------------------------

As Liana’s group steps into the clearing. The two groups immediately tense, but Artemis, already primed by Gale’s information, steps forward to address them.

Lae’zel stands front and center, blade drawn, while Shadowheart mutters a protective incantation. Liana steps forward to meet Artemis, her weapon sheathed but her stance alert.

"Grey Wardens, I presume?" Artemis asked. The question catches Liana’s party off guard. Alistair lowers his sword slightly, blinking in surprise.

"Well, that’s new. Usually, people just ask, ‘Who are you?’ before trying to kill us." Alistair says.

Liana silences him with a glance and steps forward, her expression wary but calm.

"Yes, we’re Grey Wardens. And you are?" Liana replied.

The tension doesn’t ease immediately. Lae'zel sneers, mistrusting the strangers, still.

"Grey Wardens? Another pathetic title for self-important soldiers." Lae'zel says with distain.

"I’m Artemis. This is my party. We’ve been investigating the Darkspawn sightings in this area. One of ours-" She gestures to Gale,

"Has been studying your order. We were hoping you’d show up." Artemis explained. Morrigan arches an eyebrow, her tone dripping with skepticism.

"How fortuitous for you. Or are you merely waiting to burden us with your ignorance?" Morrigan says.

Lae'zel steps forward, her weapon still drawn, glaring at Morrigan.

"Say that again, witch, and you’ll be meeting your maker." Lae'zel snarled.

The tension rises as weapons are subtly drawn. Artemis raises a hand, her voice firm but calm.

"Enough! We’re on the same side, and we don’t have time for this. The Darkspawn won’t wait for us to finish squabbling." Artemis says with authority. Lae'zel mumbles as she sheathed her sword,

"Kainyank."

Morrigan narrows her eyes at the Githyanki. Liana nods, appreciating Artemis’s pragmatism.

"Agreed. We came here to kill the Darkspawn, not bicker." She replied. Astarion speaks to Artemis, in a low voice,

"Perhaps these ‘Wardens’ aren’t entirely useless."

As the camp grew into a deeper silence, the sudden shrieks from the ruins nearby made everyone jump out of their skin. They drew their weapons and magic. Prepared for a fight.

"What in sweet hells?" Astarion cried, clearly distressed. Zevran turned to him with a smirk.

"Don't tell me one of my rogue kin is scared of a little Darkspawn?" He mocked daringly. Astarion narrowed his eyes at him,

"Hardly." He said clearing his throat.

"I'm still not entirely sure how they managed to get from your realm to ours." Gale broke the mockery.

"We aren't either. It's completely unknown." Liana shrugged her shoulders.

"I would suggest you let us handle them, these creatures are dangerous." Liana explained,

"Trust me, darling. We've had our fair share of dangerous creatures. We are more than capable of handling your Darkspawn." Astarion said in a haughty tone.

"If you think so. Just know, however, if you are so much as scratched, you will turn into one of them." Liana replied. Astarion's confident demeanor faltered for a moment.

"I suddenly don't like our odds, darling." Astarion said to Artemis.

"I think I speak for us all, when I say we had our fair share of the threat of being turned into something monstrous. And that we do not want to go through that again." Gale said confidently. His companions agreed in unison.

"If you do fight them, do be careful." Artemis warned them.

"Not to worry, we are actually capable of handling them." Zevran smirked.

"If read about us, you'd know that Grey Wardens already have the blood, so we can take the hits." Liana explained.

"Yes, I also know that you will eventually succumb to the taint, if you don't seek a cure soon." Gale explained warily. Astarion scoffed as he folded his arms,

"Now that sounds awfully familiar, where have I heard that before?" He snorted.

"Oh yeah, I remember." He added, referring to the recent cure from the mind flayers.

"The taint isn’t a disease or infestation. It’s a part of us. There is no cure, no redemption, only the Calling and death.” Liana explained. Morrigan tilted her head with a smirk, her tone biting.

“How uplifting. Truly, you Grey Wardens are the very embodiment of hope and optimism.” Morrigan said.

Artemis sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“We don’t have time for cynicism or bickering. If there’s no cure, then we fight. And if there is a cure, it won’t matter if the Darkspawn overrun Faerûn first. Focus on what we can control.” She explained.

Astarion gave Artemis a sly grin, amused by her pragmatism, Gale cleared his throat, his tone more measured.

“Perhaps not a cure, but knowledge might offer a reprieve. There’s something about this taint, this magic—” He gestured vaguely to the ruins around them.

“—That feels wrong, even by extraplanar standards. I wonder if its corruption has... evolved since crossing over to our world.” He explained with cautious tone. Wynne stepped forward, her gentle but firm voice cutting through the tension.

“That would not be surprising. Magic has a way of adapting to its surroundings. If the taint is behaving differently here, then we need to act swiftly. Every moment spent talking is another moment the corruption spreads.”

Shadowheart nodded, agreeing with Wynne’s urgency.

“And every second brings us closer to whatever’s waiting for us in those ruins. If we’re to work together, then let’s get on with it.”

"I do not like the tone you are using, darling." Astarion retorted holding up a finger in protest. He put his hands on his hips,

"Are you suggesting that we actually go down there?" He said with worry as he pointed to the ruins.

"This is our home; we need to protect it." Shadowheart said sternly with a furrowed brow.

"You heard what they said! We could turn into one if we are so much as scratched! I am not risking that again!" Astarion protested childishly, for good reason. Shadowheart scolded him,

"If we don't do something about it and cower like fools, then Faerûn will perish and us along with it! I'm not risking that." Shadowheart explained firmly. The tension was rising to impossible heat.

"Knock it off, both of you." Artemis said, breaking the tension.

"The longer you two bicker, the more danger we will be in." She explained.

"You're agreeing with her! Have you gone completely mad!?" Astarion cried, offendedly that his lover would betray him so.

"I am. Shadowheart is right. We need to fight these creatures. If we do not get to the root of it now, we won't be alive to save the world, again." Artemis explained. Astarion scoffed at her, then snorted as he turned his nose up and paraded away.

"Are you coming?" Artemis questioned, Astarion peered over his shoulder,

"Of course I'm coming! I'm not letting you go alone." He snapped as he gathered his gear.

"Good, let's head out as soon as we can." Liana replied.

The two parties began to prepare for the venture into the ruins, the Grey Wardens equipping their blades with a practiced efficiency, while Artemis’s companions readied their spells and weapons. The air was tense, a fragile alliance holding them together.

As they moved toward the entrance of the ruins, Lae’zel leaned in close to Artemis, her voice low and sharp.

“Their talk of inevitable death does not inspire confidence. Are we sure these Grey Wardens are worth allying with?”

“They’ve fought these things longer than we have. For now, we trust them.” Artemis explained. Lae’zel grunted but said no more.

------------------------------

The group entered the ruins, the air heavy with decay and an oppressive sense of wrongness. Darkspawn growls echoed through the stone corridors, growing louder with every step. The uneasy silence was broken only by the occasional drip of water and the faint hum of corrupted magic.

Minsc and Boo took the lead, the ranger’s cheerful voice breaking the tension as he spoke to his hamster.

“Boo smells evil ahead! Do you smell it too, my friends? It is the stink of villainy, and it shall be crushed underfoot!” Minsc bellowed.

“Wonderful. At least one of us is enjoying himself.” Astarion said dryly.

"What do you think caused this to happen?" Gale asked as he walked beside Wynne. He knew the answer already, but he couldn't help asking again.

"There's no telling at this moment in time. I thought it to be impossible for this type of magic to spread to other realms. Something darker is behind this, but I'm not sure yet." She explained.

"I was reading through many ancient tomes and texts for four days; nothing gave me the impression that this was even possible. It took me a day and a night to find the right books to read upon these creatures. Thedas magic is much different, and I can't fully understand it yet." Gale explained.

"We don't expect you to understand it, your magic is overly soft wizard. At least compared to the raw power of the fade." Morrigan quipped.

"I'll have you know that the weave in itself is quite powerful!" Gale retorted.

"I have studied it for decades! I know all the-"

"You speak too much, wizard. Magic should be wielded, not explained like child's lesson." Morrigan said wryly.

Artemis smirked and looked over her shoulder.

"Told you." She mocked playfully, referring to hers and Gale's banter on her sorceress bloodline and his studies.

"And yet knowledge is what keeps us alive. Or would you rather stumble blindly into a ruin?" Gale questioned.

"Actually, blades keep us alive." Astarion smirked.

"I'd rather stumble blindly into a brothel if it's all the same to you." Zevran quipped with his own smirk.

------------------------------------

The group advanced cautiously until they came to a massive chamber, its walls lined with glowing, pulsating veins of black and red magic. In the center stood a towering ogre-like Darkspawn, its flesh warped and pulsating unnaturally. Smaller creatures skittered around it—hurlocks and genlocks, their eyes glowing with malice.

“Positions! Hold the line!” Artemis cried.

“Grey Wardens, with me! Focus on the ogre. It’s a corrupted alpha—if it falls, the rest might scatter!” Liana cried.

The battle erupted, chaotic and brutal. Artemis nocked an arrow and loosed it at a hurlock archer, while Astarion darted into the shadows, striking from behind with precision. Gale summoned a flaming sphere, sending it rolling into a cluster of genlocks, while Shadowheart raised her shield and warded off a deadly blow aimed at Jaheira.

Meanwhile, Liana’s sword clashed with the corrupted ogre’s massive club, sparks flying as she held her ground. Alistair and Oghren flanked the beast, their strikes coordinated but barely penetrating its hardened flesh.

Wynne stood in the back, chanting a healing spell to mend Artemis’s wounds after a hurlock’s arrow found its mark. Morrigan unleashed a bolt of lightning, striking the ogre in its exposed side.

“For a creature so large, it seems remarkably uncoordinated. Typical of its kind.” Morrigan said.

Alistair grunted as he deflected a blow,

“Yes, well, remarkably uncoordinated still hits like a bloody boulder!”

Minsc swung his sword with righteous fury.

“Evil shall fall! Boo demands it!” He cried admits the chaos.

As the fight raged on, the ogre roared and slammed its fists into the ground, sending out a shockwave that knocked several party members off their feet.

“Stay on it! Don’t let up!” Artemis wailed. With a coordinated effort, the two parties managed to overwhelm the ogre. Liana drove her blade into its chest as Artemis loosed an arrow into its eye. The beast let out a final, guttural roar before collapsing to the ground.

The remaining Darkspawn scattered; their morale broken. Silence fell over the chamber, broken only by the heavy breathing of the victors.

------------------------------

As the group gathered their bearings, Gale approached the corrupted veins along the walls, inspecting them closely.

“This corruption... it’s unlike anything I’ve seen. I fear this is only the beginning.” Gale explained.

Liana nodded, her expression grim.

“If these creatures are adapting to this world, then we’ll need to move quickly. Every delay risk Faerûn falling to the same fate as Thedas.” She answered, her voice dry.

“Then we don’t delay. We work together, and we find a way to stop this. Agreed?” Artemis said.

The two leaders exchanged a look of mutual understanding, their partnership solidified by the shared threat.

“Agreed.” Liana replied, giving her a firm nod.

As the group began to plan their next steps, the faint sound of distant growls echoed through the ruins, a chilling reminder that the fight was far from over.

"Can we please go?" Astarion said, he was quaking in his boots, something that was unfamiliar to his own companions.

"I'm inclined to agree with that one, I've had my fair share of Darkspawn tonight." Alistair agreed. Artemis looked over at Astarion, he was terrified, and she was baffled. He usually stoic and fearful. To see him like this made her scared.

The two parties departed, heading back to their camps to rest for the night.

"We'll pick this up tomorrow." Liana explained, Artemis nodded her head,

"Sounds good, we'll make a more solid plan come first light." She replied, Liana agreed with her.

"I shall return at first light with my companions." She said,

"We'll be expecting you." Artemis said, bidding her goodnight as they parted ways.

------------------------------

Later as Artemis and Astarion laid in their tent. Artemis spoke softly,

"We fought so many threatening creatures, Cazador included, but I have never seen you that scared. Are you okay?" She asked, her tone was concerned. Astarion sighed,

"It's just that after they said we could turn into one, it made me think of how close we were to becoming mind flayers. That our world almost got shattered. I was scared because I just got my freedom back and I'm terrified of becoming a slave again, or worst yet a horrendous monster." Astarion explained softly.

"I would like to enjoy my freedom a bit longer before that happens." He added as he played with Artemis's silvery hair.

Artemis turned her head slightly to look at him, her expression softening as she reached up to place a hand over his. His fingers stilled, her silver hair slipping between them as he looked into her eyes.

“You won’t lose your freedom again, Astarion.” She said firmly, her voice steady but warm.

“Not while I’m here. You’ve fought too hard to let anything take that from you—not the tadpoles, not the Darkspawn, not anyone. And you’re not going to become a monster. I promise.”

Astarion let out a quiet, bitter laugh, his crimson eyes flicking away for a moment.

“You make it sound so simple.” He said, though there was no real sharpness in his tone.

“But I’ve seen how quickly freedom can slip through one’s fingers. One bad choice, one twist of fate, and suddenly you’re shackled to something worse than death.”

Artemis shifted closer, her hand tightening around his.

“Then we don’t let it slip. We’ve faced the impossible before, Astarion. Together. We’ll do it again if we have to. But I won’t let you fall—not to this, not to anything.”

He studied her for a long moment, the edges of his usual smirk softening into something more vulnerable.

“You’re too good to me, darling.” He said quietly, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I’m not used to someone fighting so hard to keep me whole.”

“And yet here I am,” Artemis replied with a faint smile. “Get used to it.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their words lingering between them. The distant sounds of the camp—Shadowheart murmuring prayers, Gale scribbling notes, Scratch whining softly at something unseen—grounded them in the present.

Finally, Astarion straightened, his playful smirk returning, though his eyes still held a glimmer of gratitude.

“I suppose if anyone can keep me from spiraling into despair, it’s you, my lovely moonflower. I’ll try to keep my dramatics to a minimum. For now.”

Artemis rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Good. Because I’m not letting you off this plane of existence just yet. You’re stuck with me, Astarion.”

“Happily stuck.” He replied with a low chuckle, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her temple.

As they laid together, the quiet moment of intimacy offered a small reprieve from the looming chaos of the Darkspawn threat. But even as Artemis leaned into Astarion’s embrace, she couldn’t shake the unease in her chest. The shadows of what lay ahead stretched long, and the fight for their world—and their freedom—was far from over.

--------------------------

Zevran patched up Liana's recent wounds. She sat quietly in front of him, nuzzled between his legs as he worked delicately, careful to not hurt her.

Zevran worked with practiced precision, his hands steady as he cleaned and bandaged Liana’s wounds. His fingers brushed against her skin with a tenderness that betrayed the usual roguish flair he exuded. He could tell she wasn’t in much pain, but the fact that she was still so silent intrigued him.

Liana’s head rested against his chest, her back against his stomach as he worked. Her breathing was steady, but there was an undeniable tension in her body, one he couldn’t quite place. Zevran’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t stop his work. He knew that sometimes silence spoke louder than words.

“You know.” He murmured, his voice soft and playful,

“For someone who’s usually so vocal, you’ve become rather quiet.” His fingers brushed over her bandaged side with careful hands.

“Does this injury hurt more than you're letting on?”

Liana exhaled slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“No, it’s not the wound.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s everything else.”

Zevran paused, his hands stilling on her wound. His face softened, understanding creeping into his expression. He gently pulled back, his arms circling her waist to pull her upright, turning her in his lap so she was facing him. His eyes searched hers, concerned but patient.

“Everything else?” he repeated, his voice now low, more serious than it had been before.

“Lia, if you’re troubled, you should tell me. You’ve been through a lot lately. I can see it in your eyes. I’m not blind, my dear.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze flicking away for a moment as if she could avoid his probing stare. But he was patient, waiting for her to gather her thoughts.

Finally, she met his gaze again, and there was a vulnerability in her eyes that made his chest tighten.

“I’ve been thinking about the future," she admitted softly.

"About how everything feels like it’s slipping away. The world is changing, and I’m not sure where I belong in it anymore. We fought the Darkspawn, but there’s always something else. Something bigger. I'm a Grey Warden. I can’t walk away from this, can I?”

Zevran sighed, his hands gently cupping her face as he gazed into her eyes, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

“No, you can’t,” he agreed quietly, “but that doesn’t mean you’re alone in it. And it certainly doesn’t mean you’re fighting this alone.”

Liana’s lips parted to speak, but he stopped her with a soft kiss on her forehead.

“We’ve been through worse, haven’t we? We’ll face whatever comes next, just as we always do,” Zevran continued, his voice was strong but soothing.

“And even in the darkest of times, we have each other. I’ll be right here, Liana, no matter how much the world changes.”

A long silence followed as she let his words settle into her heart, the weight of his presence comforting her.

After a moment, she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. His hands found her waist again, holding her close, and for a moment, the chaos of their lives seemed far away.

"You're right," she whispered. "I don't want to face it alone."

Zevran pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smiling gently.

"You never will, love. Not as long as I'm breathing."

Liana closed her eyes, letting herself bask in the moment of peace they had found together. No matter the battles ahead, she knew Zevran’s presence would be a constant, a strength that would carry her through the storms. Whether it be her own demons or the ones they fought.

--------------------------------

As the night wore on, Astarion's meditation was plagued with a face he had seen so many times. His brow was furrowed his head lolled from side to side, sweat clinging to his skin, making him clammy. His face contorted.

Cazador was mocking him yet again, despite perishing three weeks prior.

"What is this, my son? Have you gone mad!? You thought you could just kill me? I will never die boy." His voice was wicked and echoed in his ear drums.

"Now you will be punished! You will become a monster and there is nothing you can do about it!" Cazador warned him.

"No, you're wrong!" Astarion snapped venomously.

"We'll just see about that. Your time will come, you ungrateful brat!" Cazador growled. Astarion's brow furrowed in despair.

"You will be a slave once more; you cannot run from your fate!" Cazador laughed. Astarion's eyes welled with tears.

"NO!" He screamed, he shot up in his bed roll, looking around frantically. He saw Artemis laying peacefully beside him, he blinked a few times and calmed his nerves. His darted around his tent for a moment, still paranoid.

He wiped his brow with the back his hand, his hand slicked with sweat, his back was dripping and had soaked into the bed roll as well. Astarion sighed, he covered his face with his hands.

Then he stood and headed out of his tent. The night was still cool, but the sun was peaking over the horizon.

Thanks to the sunwalker's gift, he was able to walk in the sunlight freely. Artemis had found it two weeks ago and proposed with it.

Astarion seated himself at the edge of the camp on a decently sized boulder. He was only in his trousers, the morning dew clung to his clammy skin while the biting breeze swept through his curls.

His crimson eyes were fixed on the horizon, he was going over his nightmare about Cazador and wondered why he was still thinking of him. Worst yet, he was wondering why Cazador said he'd become a slave again. That twisted his stomach and made him want to retch.

He would never be a slave again, would he? He shook his head at the thought, he couldn't afford to think so negatively.

As he sat there, the morning rays gleamed across the world, bathing the land in warm light. He sighed to himself closing his eyes as he furrowed his brow.

Astarion was deep in thought, that he never heard Artemis approaching. She hugged him from behind and he jumped, clearly startled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay?" She asked, kissing between his shoulder blades. He sighed loudly,

"No, I another blasted nightmare about Cazador." He said as he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Tell me?" Artemis said softly as she kissed his curls lovingly. Astarion leaned back into her. He looked up at her, the sunlight made her pale skin glow, her silver hair caught the rays of light, bouncing off making her look ethereal as stray pieces framed her face.

"He said I would become a slave again. That I would become a monster, that my time will come, and I wouldn't be able to run from my fate." Astarion explained solemnly. Artemis sighed; she kissed the top of his head.

"That is far from the truth. He's still plaguing your mind, darling. Please, you can't let it get to you." She said softly as she pet his curls.

"What if he's righ-"

"He's not. I will never allow you to become a monster. As long as I still draw breath, you will always be free." Artemis explained to him. That seemed to relax Astarion significantly, he melted into her arms, slinking back into her.

"Now come along, you need to feed." She said to him tenderly. He rose to his feet, and she guided him back to the camp.

---------------------------------

The companions were waking up and setting up breakfast, Artemis and Astarion disappeared into their shared tent. As they sat down, Astarion ran his hand through his messy hair, his skin still clammy from sweat. His usual confident demeanor was cracked. The remnants of fear still lingering in his eyes.

His shirtless form was still disheveled from the nightmare, his trousers loose around his hips. Artemis's touch was soft as she laid on her back, guiding her lover with her. Astarion was just as gentle, he lowered his head into the crook of her neck, he could smell the sweetness of her blood, a smell he grew to love.

His fangs grazed along her skin tenderly, then ever so carefully, he bit down.

The feeling of his fangs piercing her skin and sinking into her was sharp and quick, but Artemis didn't flinch. She kept her hand pressed to his back, steady and firm, as he fed. She felt the familiar pulse of life coursing through her veins, a heady, warm sensation that flowed from her into him, calming him in a way nothing else could.

Astarion drank deeply, his grip tightening on her as he felt the warmth of her blood spread through him, feeding his hunger, soothing the chaos in his mind. His body shuddered as the last of the nightmare's grip slowly loosened. Artemis could feel the difference in him, the tension ebbing from his form, his breathing evening out.

Artemis smoothed her hand down Astarion's back, her soft fingertips, grazing the ridged skin of his scar. He felt the blood rushing into his mouth, smooth and richly flavored.

When he finally released her neck, drips of her blood fell from his lips. He licked them greedily, sitting on his knees and sighing with contentment. His stomach full and his mind at ease. He took a few ragged breaths before opening his eyes again.

Artemis sat up with a smile, she grabbed a rag and dabbed Astarion's mouth affectionately, he just watched her for a moment before catching her wrist, she looked up at him, her ruby eyes sparkling.

He leaned in a captured her lips in a tender kiss, she reciprocated immediately. Kissing him deeply, the taste of iron still on his tongue.

After pulling away, they rested their forehead together lovingly.

"I love you, moonflower." Astarion said, his tone was purely of love, Artemis smiled warmly at him, cupping his jaw as she replied,

"I love you too, Star."

[ion-mailbox]

Reviving Touch

Old drawing of Wyll (working on a hard piece atm) . I saw an image of James McAvoy in Antonement (2007) being comforted and I was like "I need to comfort Wyll like this".

Specifically since my main Wyllmancer, Soren (who I depicted here), would comfort him like that and has a light motif.

[ion-mailbox]

A Date Before Disaster

My tav Soren doing the dryad date with Wyll. Decided to have said Dryad's head like one of those 80s family photos with pets.

Here are the questions Wyll would have answered

What are things that lights up his soul?

Learning with friends and teaching

A cup of tea next to his books

Bugs

Creating in order to help people (+2) ⭐

Who, besides yourself, does he hold dear?

His childhood best friend, Adhlea, who stood by him in the tower (+2) ⭐

His twin sister, Viola, who he lost until he was an adult

Astarion, who he's promised to end his abuser (-2)

Lae'zel, who he's said reminds him of a friend of his

What has scarred his heart the deepest?

Being kidnapped as a child

The magical lobotomy he witnessed back at the Tower (+2) ⭐

The first dream after joining Kelemvor's order

The insertion of the tadpole (-2)

[reagan-the-saunders]