baldursgat3

[baldursgat3]

oh hey guys fancy seeing you here aha. me? oh I'm fine no I definitely didn't get so deep in the paint on bg3 that I burnt myself out like crazy and couldn't even think about it for a few months no worries 👌

anyway here's a timely update with enemies to lovers

cw some torture and references to nonconsensual sex. I don't think anything is excessive but id def call it a dead dove

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

It was dark and cold. The floor you were on was made of rough stone that scraped at your hands and knees as you sat up. The room was completely pitch black, no ambient light slipping in through a door crack. Nothing.

There was no sound save for your own heavy breathing. You anxiously patted the ground in front of you, hoping to stumble onto an exit or at least something to orient yourself by. It seemed the room was completely empty, except for you.

Hours or, perhaps, days passed as you sat in the dark, blindly hoping for some kind of escape. Finally, though, light flooded the room, causing you to recoil as you shielded your eyes. When they did adjust, your heart skipped a beat. There was Cazador, smiling that horrid smile of his.

“Good morning, pet.” He grinned, striding his way to where you were sitting. Your heart raced in your chest as he loomed over you. “You've been busy haven't you?”

You clenched your hands tightly in an attempt to keep them from trembling as he got closer and closer. What was happening? Wasn't he dead? Was it all really too good to be true? How did he find you?

“Did you really think you'd get away from me?” He chuckled, reaching down to card his fingers through your soft white curls. “Poor pet.” He roughly grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “You'd think one of these days you'd learn where you belong.”

You glared up at him, gritting your teeth. Your few moments of freedom might've put more fight in you but you knew better than to talk back in a situation like this. Really, you should've seen this coming. That freedom was too good to be true.

“Well?” Cazador’s grin dropped to a snarl as he roughly gripped your hair, jerking your head back as he stood over you. “Speak! Or have you forgotten how?”

“Fuck you.” You hissed, your eyes blazing as you stared at him. He was already mad, how much worse could you make it?

He used that grip in your hair to yank your head down as he brought his knee up, smashing your face into it before tossing you to the ground. “Try again, brat.”

Your nose was bleeding, probably broken. You coughed and sputtered as you struggled to your hands and knees. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He kicked you in the side, knocking you to the ground. He kicked again, digging the toe of his boot into your ribs as you recoiled. “Foolish boy.” He growled, pushing you onto your back and stepping down on your chest.

You glared up at him, silently seething as he ground his heel into your lungs. He loomed over you, staring into your eyes with an unreadable but terrifying expression that made you feel ill. He dropped down to his knees, pinning you to the ground as he gripped your face roughly.

His smirk made your stomach wrench as he forced you to look up at him. “That’s enough.” He chided. You saw a flash in his eyes, just for a moment, and your heart began to race. “No more fighting.” A small sound of fear escaped your lips as your body stilled, instantly responding to his commands.

Now that you had quit pushing against him, he was free to stand back up. Cazador circled around you like a vulture as he continued. “On your stomach.” He grinned wickedly as you complied. “And take off those rags. I’m feeling creative.” He chuckled, a sound that made you dizzy with fear as you found yourself completely exposed and vulnerable before this sadistic monster of a man.

He straddled your back, leaning over you to bring a hand up to your cheek. You felt a sharp sting as his hand brushed over your skin and you saw the drop of your blood fall to the ground from the small blade your master held. “Do hold still now, pet.” You could practically feel his words seizing your limbs as he turned his attention back to his canvas.

There was nothing you could do but lay there as his blade carved delicate lines into the tender flesh of your back. Poetry he called it. It certainly didn't feel poetic.

Of all the things Cazador could do to you, his ability to paralyze you with his words was by far the worst. The feeling of being trapped within your own body and knowing you were completely helpless. Your mind spun as you felt him hovering over you, your fingers trembling in fear despite his compulsion.

It was gut-wrenchingly familiar as he braced one arm up by your head, as the other carved deep lines into your skin. Everything about this was making your head spin - the fear, the pain, the memories.

You felt yourself falling down this rabbit hole, the rough stone floor below your naked body was replaced with the disgustingly soft sheets of Cazadors bed. The pain you felt was so blurred and overwhelming, you couldn't even identify it. Carving lines into your back or using you like a doll to “de-stress” as he called it. You couldn't tell and it didn't matter.

It wasn't until he carved a bit too deep, right along your spine, down your tailbone. You jolted back to the present with a choked out gasp. You just managed to catch the tail end of whatever monologue he'd been entertaining himself with before he stopped to laugh at the way your body jerked impulsively.

“Oh, was that too much?” He clicked his tongue, grinning down at you. You didn't need to see it, you could hear it in his voice.

His hand slowly traveled up your thigh, lightly dragging the blade along your skin as he spoke. “It's too bad you had to move when I specifically told you not to.” The blade grazed over the curve of your ass before he picked it up and pressed his thumb to the cut he had made down your spine. “I'll just have to redo this one.”

The small respite of the slight healing he used to undo his error was of little comfort, knowing what was coming. The second time was worse, though your body was more prepared and more diligent about following orders this time. He was dragging it out, now, of course.

It felt like he was trying to dig straight into the bone as his blade split your flesh. Tears slipped down your cheeks, it was all you could do just to blink them away. You wanted to scream and thrash and fight until this horrid man really truly was dead in the ground.

But you couldn't. All you could do was lay there. Even as he decided to redo that line a third time, “Just to be safe.” Even as he moved on, now only halfway done with whatever masterpiece he was crafting.

It felt like an eternity that you were forced to simply lie there in agony. Your master looming over you forever just to torment you for reasons you would never truly understand. Had he really come back from the dead just to torture you?

Your mind was endlessly reeling, even as he stopped to lean down close to your ear. As he spoke, the door to whatever room you were in swung open. Light swept into the room, blinding you as his words lingered.

“You are mine.”

*****

You sat up with a gasp, panting heavily as your heart pounded loudly in your chest. It took a moment to gather your bearings as you looked around yourself. There was no Cazador, no stone floor, no blood, no pain. Just a small, dim tent.

Your breathing slowed as you came back to reality, your mind still reeling from the dream. It wasn't the first time Cazador had graced your nightmares, though it was the first time since you'd been free. Usually they were less… violent.

Typically your dreams reflected reality more. You would dream about the damp darkness of your cell or, worse, the false comfort of his large bed. He'd hit you plenty of times but nothing like that. He never tortured you like that.

A shiver ran down your spine as you tried to shake the memory from your head. You shifted your focus to the waking world instead. It was light out. You’d guess it was just past sunrise by the color that filtered through your tent. People were talking in the camp outside. You couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped you. It wasn’t fair that you’d escaped one cell, just to be trapped in another one.

You missed the sun. How long had it been since you’d been trapped down there? Over a hundred years, at least. Over a century since you’d seen sunlight. You’d only seen the world through dim candlelight for so long. It wasn’t fair.

Karlach had let a few rays of sunlight strike you when she came into your tent, you knew how much it hurt. But… it wasn’t really that bad. Memories of your dream crept into your head, how viscerally real it felt as your flesh split under Cazador’s knife. You could stand the sun for a few moments, surely. You just had to see it again.

It was blinding. The pain was instant and you could hardly open your eyes as you pushed your tent flap open, stepping one foot out into the sunshine. You could feel the burning pain as the sun’s rays began to lick at your skin. But your eyes adjusted after only a few moments.

Even if it hurt, just standing in the sunshine felt incredible. You could see the world the way you remembered it-- beautiful, vibrant, I full of life. For a moment you could forget the pain. You could forget everything. Just for one split second. For only an instant you saw a blue sky above you and nothing else mattered.

“What are you doing!?” You heard a voice as you felt yourself being pushed backwards into your tent. As you fell back into the shadows, the searing pain of the sunlight began to sink in and your moment of freedom was over. You gasped in pain, stumbling and dropping back down onto your bedroll.

When you finally looked back up, you saw Astarion there, standing over you. “Are you out of your mind? Are you trying to kill yourself!?” You tilted your head, watching him fret. Layers of your skin were flaking off like ash. It burned like the hells and you knew it’d take days to recover. But it wasn’t as though you didn’t have the time.

“Why would you stop me?” You asked, your voice flat and indifferent.

Astarion let out an audible sigh of annoyance as he turned to look at you, shifting his weight to the side. “Because you may not believe me, but the band of do-gooders out there have rubbed off on me, whether I like it or not.” He gestured vaguely towards the camp beyond the curtain. “The fact that you're even alive is proof enough.”

“My hero.” You mumbled flatly, bringing a hand up to touch your cheek. A bit of your skin flaked off like ash as your fingers brushed against the burns.

Astarion frowned, folding his arms. “Are we going to keep going around like this? Was I supposed to let you go up in smoke? If you wanted to kill yourself you would've done it.” His eyes narrowed as he watched you. “Or are you itching to pick another fight?”

He was right. You knew he was, of course. If you had really wanted to die there were far simpler ways that would make much less of a spectacle. You watched a few more flakes of ash flutter down from your fingertips, glittering dimly in what faint light filtered through your tent.

You didn't meet his gaze, instead staring blankly at the floor as you stepped back to sit on your bedroll. “I hate that you get to walk in the sun.” You muttered, almost like a petulant child.

Astarion scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Is that what this is? Well. You won't have to be jealous much longer.” It was almost imperceptible, but you caught the slight shift in his voice as he continued. “Once this is all over it's back to the shadows for me, anyway.”

Admittedly, you were kind of lost on the whole plan this strange gaggle of misfits were working on. Something, something about the city being in peril? Wasn't exactly shocking for Baldurs Gate. Still, this caught your attention. “What do you mean?”

“What? You think I got this gift just because I'm special, hm?” He waved a hand dismissively, glancing away as you finally looked up at him. “The little parasite I've got swimming around in my brain changed the rules. I suppose I'm not as useful if I burn up in the sun.”

That sounded disgusting. Karlach had vaguely mentioned something about mind flayers but you really knew next to nothing about them. Why should you? “So… what?”

“So, when this is all over and we get rid of these things, everything goes back to the way it was before.” He said flatly, staring at the side of the tent. “Is that satisfactory enough for you?”

Not really. You barely got the concept of this whole plan in the first place but you understood as much as you needed to, you figured. But it didn't make you feel better that Astarions blessing was temporary, the way you might've hoped it would.

It felt empty. His suffering didn't bring you any relief. As much as you might've daydreamed about how you would make him pay should you ever be given the chance, now that you were here, it didn't feel very good.

You had spent so long being angry. It was dark and cold, you were hungry and scared. For over a hundred years your every waking moment had been spent either cowering in fear of Cazador or simmering with a barely controlled rage against the man who brought you to him. Now Cazador was dead and Astarion was here sitting in front of you, growing increasingly antsy over your silence as your thoughts jumbled together.

You were just so tired. “What will you do then?” Your voice was flat but the anger that had been behind it previously was gone.

It startled Astarion a little. His head cocked to the side just a bit, you saw his shoulders relax just a hint. You could see it in his eyes, he was studying you just as closely as you were analyzing him. It almost felt like a dance.

“I don't know.” He answered after a moment. “I don't have to do anything. With Cazador gone, no one can tell any of us what to do anymore. Personally, I plan on enjoying that.”

You knew that wasn't the whole story but you did appreciate what he was saying anyway. You had been wondering what you would do with yourself once this Save The World mission that you weren't even really a part of was over. A part of you hoped Karlach would let you follow her like a lost puppy.

“Astarion…” His name didn't taste like poison quite like it had before. “Did he really carve a poem on your back…?”

He didn't have to answer. The way his entire body stiffened up and his eyes darkened told you enough. “What do you mean?” His voice was sharp and cautious as he searched your face for cause.

“I… I had a dream.” You mumbled, glancing away from him. “I think I was you and- and it felt so real…”

He straightened up a bit, shifting awkwardly. “Well. Isn't that neat.” He muttered, his eyes a mix of frustration and confusion.

“I'm s-” You hesitated. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I… why I would even bring it up. Just a stupid dream.”

“He did.” Astarion’s voice was quiet. Almost soft. “If it was half as bad as I remember, then I'm sorry too. Must've been quite a nightmare.” There was a half hearted attempt at humor in his voice as he spoke, though he was clearly forcing it.

Really, you had no idea what to say. If you really did experience what he went through, well… you weren't exactly sure how you felt about that.

You sat in silence with him for a moment that felt like an eternity. Never once had you imagined being alone with him and not aiming to tear his throat out with your fangs. But that just didn't sound as appealing as it used to.

“Why did you pick me?” You whispered. You weren't foolish enough to assume you were a special target he was sent out for. And it wasn't exactly like you couldn't guess his motivations. Still, you wanted to know.

He shrugged, looking a bit disappointed for a split second. “You were alone and I thought you would say yes.” His voice was flat and steady as he spoke. Emotionless. Practiced.

“But… you were beautiful, too.” His voice shook, now, almost imperceptibly. “He praised me for finding you. I went to bed in peace that night. If I'd known what… I thought he had killed you. All of you.”

His words felt different this time. His voice didn't fill you with rage, your fingers weren't itching to wrap around his throat. You looked at him and, for the first time in two hundred years, you saw another victim.

Yes, he was the one who found you and brought you to Cazador. But you didn't feel the malice in his actions anymore. All those years of replaying that night and letting your mind fill in the gaps with your own ideas that were twisted in anger. It wasn't a scheming, conniving man you had met at that bar - it was a desperate, frightened one.

Still, you tried to fight it. The extinction burst of arguments that flooded your mind, as you and Astarion just looked at each other, was overwhelming. They all rang so hollow now, you just didn't know how to feel anything but anger anymore.

“I'm sorry…” You whispered finally, after an uncomfortably long silence. “That… he made you do that.”

Astarion looked at you, scanning your face for intent. Whatever he found seemed to be enough for his shoulders to relax just a bit. You could feel the buzzing energy of the anger that had been filling the tent begin to settle into a low, unidentifiable tension. It was strange.

After a moment, though, he took a deep breath and smacked both his hands on his thighs as he quickly stood up. “Well! This has been a lovely talk, good work all around.” His mask was back on, you noticed. “I ought to be headed out though. World saving to do and all.”

He didn't give you time to argue and you didn't want to anyway. Your thoughts were racing through your head and you needed space to settle them down and sort through them. Without another word, he slipped out of the tent and off to his adventures.

It wasn't lost on you, the way he carefully controlled the sunbeam he let in to keep it off of you as he left.

[baldursgat3]

hi, once again here - came to reread your fics :) really curious where the not-karlach fic can go, given that fey can’t even get out in the daylight but you’re one of the rare authors whose stories I find myself blindly trusting in terms of quality lol. & overall the dynamic with the oc/reader just being so similar to astarion in terms of backstory/trauma while also mirroring his own relation to the one at fault for his suffering - that’s so fucking unique to explore !! anyways, just wanted to say thanks’!!!!! very very much waiting for you to post, though hope you don’t feel pressure :) take as much time as you need & hope your life’s going good !!!

😭😭😭 ur so sweet aldkkflsjdla. 💖 I am still very slowly working on it cause it's a story that's stuck in my head. life is just exhausting and being in between big beats makes for negative attention span for writing. i am not dead, just bad at motivation

[baldursgat3]

this is exclusively for the anon that said they missed me ilusm it's hard to balance the desire to write with having an adult life lmao but little comments do mean a lot so part 4 of my enemies to lovers is here 😘

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

~*~*~

“I don't know how they expect me to be any different!” Astarion said loudly, pacing a trench into the dirt as he bemoaned his plight. Halsin and Wyll listened sympathetically while Gale attempted to act as though he wasn't just there for the drama of it all.

“I apologized! Me! And they threw it back in my face!” He was angry and frustrated. It took a lot for him to apologize, it was something he likely would've never done were it not for the influence of the people around him now. He barely knew how to give a proper apology and he thought he'd done a rather good job. And you just yelled at him for it.

He ran his hands through his curls, displacing a bit of energy, but certainly not enough to actually calm him down. “What am I supposed to do? What do they want from me? Am I supposed to go back in time? They won't be happy unless I'm dead, so what's the point!?”

“It's not an easy situation to be in.” Wyll spoke up, watching Astarion as he anxiously fidgeted with his hair. “But do you really have to do anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean… just avoid them, can't you?” He shrugged awkwardly, tilting his head at him. “If you're not going to get along just don't engage with them.”

Astarion stared at him with a blank expression. The idea of simply letting the situation lie had not crossed his mind, truly. You were here, you were angry with him, and he wasn't allowed to kill you. He didn't know what to do with you, but surely he had to do something.

“Now, this may be a big ask,” Halsin started, almost tepidly. “But you could always just be kind to them anyway. It could go a long way towards repairing the image they have in their head of you.”

Astarion scoffed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “Please. You know who you're talking to. I barely do kindness when I like people. I'm not going to go belly up for them when they're yelling at me for something that wasn't my fault in the first place.”

“Maybe that's the problem.” Gale shrugged, cocking his head. “Every time you deflect the blame its only going to make them angrier.”

“It's not my fault!”

Wyll reached out to rest a hand on Astarion's shoulder, receiving a half hearted glare, despite the vampire making no move to get away. “It's not your fault that Cazador forced you to do the things he did, no. And we can discuss whether or not it's fair for them to insist that it is. The fact remains that, in their mind, you and Cazador share the blame for what happened to them.”

“If you're trying to make me feel better, you're doing a terrible job.”

“What I'm saying is that they don't know you.” He continued, his face still soft. Almost like he was trying to rationalize with a child. “They're angry because all they know of you is betrayal. Really, Halsin could be onto something.”

A look of disgust plastered itself onto Astarion's face as he finally pulled back just a step. “Oh and why don't I do a little dance for them too? Write them an apology song?”

Wyll sighed, knowing he was fighting an uphill battle here. “Fine then. Don't be nice to them. Be nice to other people where they can see. Put a different picture in their mind than the one they already have.”

“You want me to put on an act?”

“Are you being deliberately stubborn on purpose or is this really just who you are?” Wyll quirked an eyebrow, an unamused expression on his face.

Astarion only grinned, holding his hands up. “Guilty as charged.” His attitude dropped back into irritation as he shifted his weight. “I'm not going to wander around the camp pretending to be you so they can think I'm a nice person. Besides, putting on some kind of show isn't going to give them an idea of who I am anyway.”

“He has a point.” Gale interjected, entirely unconcerned with the look Wyll shot him. “They won't know the real him if he's just trying to be nice for show. They'll be disappointed when they learn he really is just an asshole.”

“You are not helping, wizard.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Why should I bother trying to prove them wrong anyway? It's their fault for putting the blame on me.”

“Do you not blame the Gur for putting you in the position Cazador found you in?” Halsin spoke up again, gentler this time.

Astarion almost winced at the question, not liking the implications. “That's different!”

“It is, you're right.” He was trying to take it easy, he knew if the vampire spooked, he'd close right back up and the conversation would be over. “But do you not see the similarities? You both found your way to Cazador through the actions of someone else.”

“They tried to beat me to death! I didn't hurt Fey!”

“Didn't you?”

Astarion's mouth shut tight as he glared at Halsin. He knew the druid was right. That didn't mean he had to like it. “It's not the same. I didn't know he was keeping them. I certainly didn't know he was… eugh… playing with them.”

“We're talking in circles, Astarion. Just listen for a moment, please.” Halsin gave him a sad smile. “Whether you meant to or not, the fact remains that, in their story, you occupy the same position the Gur did in yours.

You both found yourself in an undesirable situation that ended with Cazador tormenting you for decades. Just because their torment was different doesn't mean they suffered less. The heart has no metrics or measurements for sorrow, you're both entitled to your pain. But these moments, this suffering that extends past Cazador's death, these moments are irreplaceable.”

“What are you getting at…?” Astarion asked, not really enjoying the logic he was being presented with.

Halsin’s smile got just a bit warmer as he reached out to touch his arm. “The two of you are remarkably similar. But you've had months away from Cazador to decompress from all the anger you felt.”

“Indeed.” Gale cut in. “I'm not sure you remember but you weren't exactly sunshine and rainbows when we first met.”

“I'm aware.” Astarion snapped as Halsin sighed. “The fact remains that I tried to apologize. They're the one that threw it back in my face. Even if I tried to be nice, they just want me dead!”

“That's what I'm saying, Astarion.” The druid tried again. “They just escaped. This is their first night of freedom. Give it time. But in the meantime, a few acts of kindness might go a long way towards changing their mind.”

Astarion glowered at them for a second, clearly trying to think up some argument. After a moment or two he gave up though, throwing his hands up in defeat with an irritated “Fine. Fine. I'll try to be nicer.” The word almost sounded foreign on his tongue, the way he said it.

He turned around, stalking off to his tent to sulk for the evening. “To a person who hates my fucking guts because all the goody two shoes say I should.”

“That's the spirit!” Wyll called after him, shaking his head. It was hard enough coping with one moody vampire. Now they had two and they didn't even get along. It was interesting, if nothing else.

~*~*~

While you weren't particularly in the mood for chatting, not even the gods themselves could've kept you shut away in your little tent. You bundled yourself up by the campfire, obviously attempting to shut the rest of the world out. Karlach had gone off to do her own thing to give you some space. And so, you turned back to the book you had been reading.

It wouldn't have been terribly interesting if it weren't the first book you touched in two centuries. It had been so long and you were beyond ecstatic to read anything again, regardless of the actual quality of the content. You were so thoroughly absorbed in your book that you about jumped out of your skin when someone spoke to you.

“Is it decent?” Why the hell was Astarion back, trying to talk to you? Wasn't he off having some kind of guys night? You scowled at him, not responding. He continued anyway. “I had no idea what you liked. I just… remembered you said you liked to read.”

That caught your attention. For probably the first time since you were freed, you looked at him with something other than a seething contempt. Confusion and curiosity took its place now. He had given you those books?

He looked upset and uncomfortable and he kept throwing looks towards his tent, though he lingered. You didn't really want him to stay anyway, you had to respond. You couldn't exactly lie and say you hated them when he had found you completely lost in one.

So you just let out a small huff and turned your attention back to the book. “They're fine.” Your voice was curt and flat but not angry. It was, well… It was a start.

He didn't respond either, simply continuing his brisk walk back into his tent. You peeked up to watch him shut the flap, sealing himself off from the world. Good. You didn't want to see him anyway.

Besides, you were angry. That's right. How did he remember you liked to read but he couldn't remember your name? No, he was a terrible person. One little gift of some measly, bargain bin romance novels and a paint by numbers adventure story? That was hardly enough to even begin considering forgiveness.

Why were you even thinking about the word? You had sworn long, long ago - back when it was just you and Sebastian in that rotten prison - you had sworn you would hate Astarion until your last undying breath. Forgiveness wasn't a thought that should've even made it onto your radar.

You stared at the book in your hands, struggling now to continue reading. Your anger bubbled up inside of you, making it difficult. How were you supposed to keep reading this, knowing where it came from? Knowing who had given it to you?

But you wanted to keep reading. Even if it wasn't a great book, it was something. You tried to ignore the anger, to ignore the little voice that kept reminding you who had given it to you. A smaller voice popped up suddenly. Maybe we should just let some of the anger go?

No. No you were still furious, how could you even imagine being anything less? This must've been his game. He did this on purpose didn't he? Your hands trembled as they gripped the book tightly. He gave you the books, knowing how excited you'd be, and then he'd ruin that excitement. That had to be it. Gods he was such a monster.

Still… you were so close to the ending. Go back to thinking Karlach gave them to you, it's fine. It worked decently enough. You could push the anger down enough to power through the rest of the book. It wasn't quite the same though, your anger had tainted it. You weren't enjoying it anymore. He had even taken reading from you, how cruel.

~*~*~

Astarion sighed, staring at the roof of his tent as he laid out on his bedroll. Had that been a nice thing to do? This was already fucking impossible. How did people like Wyll do this all the time?

Honestly, he had secretly been a little excited to see you reading one of the books he'd given you. It's was perhaps even a bit of a secret to himself.

He didn't remember much, it was hard to keep a thousand victims straight, but he remembered why you were at the tavern in the first place. He remembered feeling a pang of guilt when you had told him that you were there in an attempt to branch out and be more social. It hadn't felt great, knowing that if only you'd been less social, perhaps you would've lived a long happy life.

The books were his first attempt at some kind of peace offering. Before you had even woken up, he'd slipped in and dropped off a few that he figured were generic enough to appeal to anyone.

And he hadn't missed the look of confusion he'd gotten. It was an improvement from the boiling anger he'd been receiving. Maybe it had been a good move? Maybe it would open the doorway to more conversations? He could ask you what kind of books you actually liked. He had amassed a decent collection for himself over the last several months.

He liked reading. He had never been barred from it, when he had nothing better to do at least. He'd spent plenty of time trying to use books to escape the nightmare of life under his former master. Perhaps this was his in road with you?

Maybe the boys had been right. Maybe a little kindness did go a long way. It really wasn't even that hard. He had nailed that interaction as far as he was concerned.

He closed his eyes with a small sigh. A part of him hated that he had ever suggested you tag along with them. It was making his life so much more difficult. He had just killed his tormentor, shouldn't he be on cloud nine?

Still, things were beginning to look up, he figured. Tomorrow he'd mention his collection and ask if there was something you might like. Maybe he could even stop by a bookshop and-

What? No. Gods, don't get carried away. You still hated him. Just because he'd done one nice thing didn't mean that was all gone. He hated that he even cared. He wouldn't have cared before all of this Absolute nonsense. That's what he got for making friends and caring about people.

Take it easy. He would just ask you if you wanted a certain type of book, that's all. Something small. You couldn't get mad over something like that. What could possibly go wrong?

[baldursgat3]

part 3 of the I Promise It's Not Secretly A Karlach Fic enemies to lovers. shorter than usual but if I added the next part it'd almost definitely be too long so it's 2.2k. actually featuring a confrontation this time 🎉

part 1 | part 2

“Is this seat taken?” Astarion gestured towards the ground in front of you, clearly attempting some kind of humor. You had to grind your teeth not to lash out at him, that wouldn't be conducive to a calm discussion. But it felt like he was mocking you. Did he remember those were the first words he spoke to you? You had no way of knowing. You didn't respond, instead focusing most of your efforts on keeping your face as neutral as you could. It didn't work, you knew anger was written across it in bright letters but, at the very least, you could keep yourself from snarling and baring your teeth. He awkwardly sat down when you didn't answer his question, glancing at Karlach for help, though she only offered a shrug. This was on him. She was just there to keep you from killing him. “Look, I know we haven't exactly gotten off on the right foot, you and I.”

It felt like an eternity but the sun finally dipped below the horizon, taking its deadly, beautiful light with it. You couldn't actually watch the sunset, but you could see it happening through the fabric of your tent. The bright, white-ish light slowly faded to golden, petering out to a dim blue-ish, and then it was gone.

Had anyone walked in on you, they would've found you near tears, staring at the western wall of your tent with rapt attention. It was the closest thing to watching a sunset you'd had in two centuries, it was enough to flood your mind with emotions.

The light was gone now. It was safe for you to leave your tent, finally. You could get up and walk outside if you wanted to right now. Nothing was stopping you, no bars, no master, no sun, nothing. If you stepped outside right this instant you'd probably see the moon, maybe some stars were already out even. You could do it.

So why didn't you? Why did you just stare at the tent flap as though it might burn you if you tried to touch it. You were free, you could step out into the world again, stand underneath the wide expanse of the sky. So why weren't your feet moving? Why were you so petrified?

You hated being in that cage, the cramped, enclosed space that you so rarely had any respite from. Even now you had been stuck inside the even smaller room of the small tent all day, locked in by the sun. This was your first real moment of freedom. If only you could take the first step.

As much as you hated it, captivity was familiar. Little was expected of you and it was easy. Freedom meant anything and everything was possible. You had no idea what you wanted to do with it, it was all just so overwhelming. Your mind swirled with possibilities, the thought of your life truly being in your own hands once more.

Your hand trembled as you reached out to push the tent flap, opening it a few inches before your hand jerked back. Honestly, you weren't entirely sure why. It felt like you just kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like you would step outside and Cazador would be there, waiting with a vile grin on his face, just waiting for you to step outside so he could steal you away again.

Karlach wouldn't let that happen though. You felt certain. You could trust her, you had to. She had been so kind, why would she have been lying?

That thought came with a rush of determination, a now or never instinct shooting through your head. Without a second thought, you tossed the flap open, as you stepped outside.

You opened your eyes and let out the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. There was a whole camp set up around you, a few people milling about who gave you some smiles. You didn't care about them. Your eyes were fixed on the heavens.

It was a gorgeous, clear night. Selûne gleamed brightly in the sky above you, a sight you had quite forgotten. The small belt of asteroids that surrounded the moon twinkled around her. In the distance, stars lit up the vast expanse of space, shimmering and sparkling in beautiful novas and galaxies that had your head spinning.

The world had changed so much since you had last seen it, but the sky sparkled and glimmered the same as it ever did. One could be moved to tears by the majesty of the cosmos on a good day. Seeing it after living through what had seemed to be an endless nightmare, it was more than your emotions could take.

Without a single regard for the looks you may get, a small sob escaped your mouth as you slowly sunk to your knees, eyes locked on the sky. Tears slipped down your cheeks and you cupped a hand over your mouth with a small gasp. You sat back on your heels, your eyes flicking across the sky as you tried to take in every last detail.

You didn't move when you felt someone else sit beside you. The heat that radiated from her was enough to tell you it was Karlach. She didn't say anything and neither did you. Even if you had something to say, your voice wouldn't have come to you.

For a while, you sat like that. You didn't notice the camp growing quieter around you, the noise in your head was too loud. When you finally pulled your gaze away from the night sky, you noticed several other people staring up at the sky as well. None of them were crying, but most of them smiled.

“You forget how beautiful the world is.” Karlach spoke softly. You didn't have to look at her to know she was smiling. “I know how you feel. No stars in Avernus. And you come back here and wonder how it was you never realized just how stunning everything really is.”

A breathy laugh escaped your lips. It was funny, you managed to run into someone who really did understand what you'd gone through. “It's never made me cry before. But I mean…” Your gaze turned back to the sky. “Just look at it all.’

The two of you sat in silence for a moment longer before you heard another set of footsteps approaching. Your face fell when you realized who was walking up to join you, settling into a look of obvious distaste and annoyance. But you had promised to try talking to him.

Astarion sauntered up, calm and confident. It irritated you, all his stupid charm. If he hadn't been so gods damned charming in the first place, you wouldn't be in this ordeal.

“Is this seat taken?” He gestured towards the ground in front of you, clearly attempting some kind of humor. You had to grind your teeth not to lash out at him, that wouldn't be conducive to a calm discussion. But it felt like he was mocking you. Did he remember those were the first words he spoke to you? You had no way of knowing.

You didn't respond, instead focusing most of your efforts on keeping your face as neutral as you could. It didn't work, you knew anger was written across it in bright letters but, at the very least, you could keep yourself from snarling and baring your teeth.

He awkwardly sat down when you didn't answer his question, glancing at Karlach for help, though she only offered a shrug. This was on him. She was just there to keep you from killing him. “Look, I know we haven't exactly gotten off on the right foot, you and I.”

He looked as though he expected a response and your glare simply darkened. He didn't seem to be intimidated by you. After all, you had about all the energy and strength of a butterfly right now. But he did seem uncomfortable. He survived using his charm and, when that didn't work, his dagger. Neither of those were viable options for you and he felt lost.

So he just tried to continue. “I know you're angry about all that's happened and I- I would never blame you for that. I…” He bit his lip anxiously, casting another look to Karlach. “I'm sorry. For the role I played in your suffering. It was never my choice. I never wanted to go out hunting people for him, you know?”

That was little comfort to you now. You weren't stupid, you knew he was obeying orders. You'd been compelled by Cazador on a few occasions, you knew what it felt like to be unable to resist. That didn't stop your anger though. That didn't change anything. Your life had still been ruined.

“Is it supposed to make me feel better, knowing that?” Your voice was even and bitter. Honestly, you were surprised you managed to bury as much of your anger as you did. “Because you didn't mean to, because you didn't want to, I'm supposed to forgive you for destroying my life?”

“It wasn't me!” His voice raised. You could see the anger flickering behind his eyes now. You weren't the only one repressing emotions. “Cazador trapped you. He hurt you. Not me!”

“No, you just brought me back to him!”

“I didn't have a choice!”

“You didn't have to choose me!”

He looked at you with what almost felt like revulsion. “So what, I was supposed to take someone else that night? Someone else to suffer in your place?”

His judgment made your blood boil. Who in all the nine hells was he to judge you for wanting to escape your fate by any means necessary. Your eyes darkened and your voice lowered to an angry hiss as you looked him in the eyes. “Yes.”

It wasn't like he didn't understand what it felt like. He knew how badly he had wanted to escape, to have never been caught up with Cazador in the first place. But he wasn't wishing that suffering onto other people. “What the hell do you want from me then?”

His voice was just as bitter and nasty as yours was. You could feel the way Karlach was tensing up beside you. She wanted to jump in and say something to smooth this out but what could she say? “I don't want anything from you. The only thing you could've done for me was fling yourself from the parapets before ever finding me. But it's a little late now.”

“Well that's not very useful then, is it?” He snapped, baring his fangs without a thought.

He didn't frighten you, you bared yours right back. “I didn't fucking ask you to be useful.”

“What in the hells are you expecting from me then?” His eyes narrowed. “I can't change what happened and I already apologized I can't do anything else!”

“You've done enough! I don't want you to fucking do anything! I want you to stop doing things. You ruined my life, ruined so many people's lives. And you get to kill Cazador. You get to walk in the sun!”

He bristled visibly, grinding his teeth as he straightened up. “If anyone deserved to kill that man it was me. You don't know half the shit he put me through. He ruined my life too!”

“You got to wander free! You could roam the city, still! While I was locked in a tiny, miserable cage with five other people! You got to have some kind of life, you got to eat-”

“Only the dead rats he thought it was funny to watch me force down!”

“Enough that you didn't spend decades without so much as a drop!”

This was devolving quickly. Maybe it was a bad idea to stick the two of you together so quickly. Karlach straightened up as the two of you coiled tighter and tighter. She needed to stop this before one of you exploded.

“Okay, alright, hey maybe we wait on this conversation, yeah?” She carefully moved to position herself slightly between you both. “It's a pretty night, how about we just… go back to enjoying that?”

The two of you still glared at each other, fangs bared in the moonlight. You were fine with him leaving. You knew you couldn't actually hold your own against him if it came to fighting. You were still far too weak.

“Fine.” He hissed, after a moment of silence. He stood quickly, finally taking his eyes off of you. With a huff, he straightened his shoulders and turned on his heel. You watched him go, more than happy to get away from him. Though, admittedly, you did feel bad for Karlach. She had clearly been hoping for a better outcome.

She stayed beside you, awkward and quiet for a moment. Being the mediator wasn't exactly her usual role but she was trying. “Well… that could've gone better.

You sighed, dropping your head. “I'm sorry.” You whispered, staring at the ground now. “I know you wanted us to get along but… I just… I hate him.”

That maybe wasn't the thing to say if you were trying to make her feel better. You saw the way her shoulders slumped and her eyes turned downcast. “I know. I get it but…” She sighed. Even if she thought they would be able to comfort each other, the hurt just ran too deep.

Your anger was still too raw for you to even look at him without wanting to rip his throat out. Neither of you would be leaving the camp any time soon though. You had nowhere else to go, and he was on some big hero quest, just like the rest of them.

“I'm sorry.” You said again, more tired this time. “It's… it's hard not to be angry. I don't think I can just be okay with this.” You sighed. It was difficult, you knew you were the problem. He'd tried to apologize, you were the one who started the fight. But how were you supposed to control your anger after everything you'd been through because of him? “I don't know how he expects me to be any different.”

[baldursgat3]

Part 2 of my Enemies to Lovers. 3.1k words this time. Once again. Got away from me. This chapter literally doesn't even contain Astarion physically it's all just Karlach. I just love her I'm sorry but I said slow burn and I fuckin meant it

Part 1

“You mean Astarion?” She looked sadder now, glancing back towards the camp outside your tent. “He's not a monster any more than you are. Being a vampire doesn't just make you a monster.” “Luring countless people to their deaths does, though.” You could see the way it hurt her when you spoke about him that way, but it was true. He'd probably just won her over with his fancy words and pretty lies. “And you're all letting him tag around and play hero! As though he deserves any of it!” Your voice was rising in volume, you could hear it. You couldn't stop it though. It was hard not to let your emotions control you after everything. But you could see the sadness in her eyes at your words and that hurt.

At some point, the comfort and warmth of Karlach’s body as she carried you close to her chest wound up putting you to sleep. You'd tried to stay awake, hoping to scope out how your city had changed but you barely made it out of the palace before her warmth consumed you completely. It had just been so long since you'd felt comfortable and safe like this.

Safe? No you didn't feel safe. Not exactly. Well maybe a little? No! No not at all, you weren't safe with these people. They were all friends of Astarion's, they couldn't be trusted. How foolish was your exhausted mind that you allowed that vile man to convince you to be taken away again? Just because his warm, soft, beautiful- just because his friend said a few nice words?

Your mind tried to reconcile your conflicted thoughts as you slowly woke up. You were in some kind of tent. Nothing fancy, just some blankets and a bedroll, but it was far softer than the floor of your cell. It seemed to be daylight out, though it could've been absolutely any time. All you knew was that it was night when you left Cazador's palace.

Was this their game? How cruel. You were trapped in this little tent. There was only one exit and it led directly to your death. You were stuck in there, at least until nightfall.

You sat for a while, fuming about your new brand of captivity before your eyes fell on a small stack of books near the head of your bedroll. Books? Did you even remember how to read?

You hated the way your fingers trembled as you picked up one of the books. You still hadn't eaten anything, you didn't really feel like holding it, so you sat cross legged and rested it in your lap.

It had been so long since you'd held a book. You had always loved reading, it was the reason your old friends had pressured you into trying to go out more. You spent too much time reading. Well, reading never got you kidnapped and locked away for 200 years.

They weren't books you would've picked, but they were acceptable. Two of them were cheesy romance novels that you read sometimes and only in secret. The one in your lap was some adventure fiction about a dragon slayer or something. Not your cup of tea, but it was well written. And it wasn't like you had anything else to do.

Besides, the more you lost yourself in the book, the more the anger and fear of the day began to fade. It was easy to get lost in a world of grand heroics. You'd finished nearly 100 pages by the time you were interrupted.

The tent flap swung open abruptly - you'd been too engrossed in your book to hear anyone approach. Though it was largely blocked by the figure standing in front of it, several rays of sunlight struck your skin as you hissed and recoiled. You heard a soft “Oh shit!” before the flap closed and the sun was kept at bay once more.

You had never been burnt by the sun before. You hadn't seen daylight since before you were taken away from the world. It had only touched your skin for a moment and you could feel exactly where it had, like an awful sunburn. But still, your heart ached for the light. It was so close and completely out of your reach.

Karlach sat in front of you in your tent, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Sorry, I… kinda forgot you can't be in the sun.”

You were so torn. If it was anyone else you could've been nasty to her without a second thought. But she seemed so much kinder than anyone else you'd spoken to. The part of you that ached relentlessly for companionship, to not be lonely anymore, it begged you to ignore the other part of your mind that didn't trust anyone that was even remotely close to Astarion. You couldn't trust her.

But you still couldn't be mean to her. So you just sighed, throwing her a quizzical look, rather than a bitchy one. “Don't you live with a vampire right now?”

“Oh, well yeah… but…” She seemed hesitant to continue, though you only looked at her, blankly, leaving her no real choice. “Well he doesn't… okay so this is complicated.”

Over the next several minutes she laid out exactly what had been happening, the mind flayers, the cult, the tadpoles. Cazador had just been a pitstop on their world saving mission. It was difficult to imagine someone like Astarion trying to save the world. Karlach? She was hero material. Not that slimy little twink.

More importantly than anything, though, she very cautiously told you that the parasite they shared gave Astarion protection from the sun. Of course it did. He got everything, didn't he? Wasn't he lucky? You only stared longingly at the glow that came from outside your tent, and he was free to frolic about it in however he wished.

She must've seen the anger that flooded your face, as she reached out to try to comfort you. You didn't stop her as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “I'm sorry… For what happened to you. With him. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything from me, but I am sorry.”

“Why does he get to be in the sun? Why does he get to kill Cazador?” You were angry and tired and still so very very hungry. “He ruined my life. He ruined so many people's lives. He deserves to rot in the ground.”

“I… I don't think this is a conversation we should be having. You deserve to talk to him about this. I think you deserve to talk to each other, actually.” Her words were soft. As much as you never wanted to look at him again, she was right. This wasn't her issue, you wouldn't get the answers you needed from her.

You took a deep breath, trying to collect yourself and reign in your anger. When you spoke again, your voice was much calmer, more even and less distressed. “So, then… why did you come here?”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and you suddenly realized how much warmer it was in your tent with her in it. “I came to offer you a snack.” She grinned, holding out her hand out to you with a closed fist.

You simply stared at her, looking between her face and her hand, mostly confused why she was taking so long to open her hand and actually give you something. “Um…”

“Sorry, did you not want it?” She pulled her hand back, just a bit. A confused, sad look crossed her face as she looked back at you.

“No, no!” It was the first time you ever managed any kind of excitement as you shook your head. “I do, I just… what are you… giving me?”

“A… drink…?” She seemed just as confused as you were. “Do you not drink blood, like Astarion? I'm sorry, I guess I just assumed-”

“You'd let me bite you?” Your heart lept into your throat. You'd never had anything but a couple rats in your miserable life as a vampire. Even then, that was so long ago and they had been given to you only as such wonderful gifts.

Karlach chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “If you want to. But I will pull you off if you don't stop yourself and I super promise I'm stronger than you.” She grinned at you and you felt your lips twitch upwards in response. It was the closest thing to a smile you'd managed in over a century. How odd.

You very gently took her hand in both of yours, staring at her as though you were waiting for her to jerk away at any moment. She didn't though, she just smiled back at you. “Might be a little warmer than you're used to.”

Used to. She thought you were used to drinking blood of any kind. It was still a strange concept to you but… if she was offering, it must not be an issue for you to worry about. Not morally anyway.

Ever so gently you sunk your fangs into one of her veins, piercing her warm skin as her blood dripped onto your tongue. It was definitely warm. Almost hot like coffee. It was… sweet though. Not like coffee. Like hot chocolate. A perfect cup of hot chocolate after too long spent outdoors in the cold.

It didn't really occur to you to think about how strange it was to compare someone else's blood to a children's drink, you were too consumed by your hunger. She was delicious, far different than any of the rats you'd eaten. You could feel her warmth as it seemed to radiate through your body.

You really didn't mean to lose yourself, you were just so hungry. Besides, you believed her when she said she was stronger than you. You only hoped she knew when you'd had too much because you were accidentally set to drink her completely dry

She might've been telling you to stop, you really couldn't hear anything over the fireworks going off in your head as you finally ate something. Or - someone maybe.

Still, you suddenly felt her palm against your forehead as she pushed your head away from her wrist. You barely had the strength to instinctively resist her. You were still starving.

“- make yourself sick, mate.” You heard her voice come into focus as you wiped your mouth. It took a moment, but you shook yourself out of your frenzy, glancing up at her with frightened eyes.

“Oh, I- I'm sorry.” You whispered. “I didn't… I really didn't mean to-”

“Hey, it's okay.” Her voice was bright as ever. “Might've been a lot but I doubt they'll need me to whack anything too big tomorrow.”

What was wrong with this woman? Why was she so kind? So happy? How could she smile so easily like this? It didn't seem like her trust even wavered in you at all, despite you barely even trying to resist your hunger. “Why are you doing this?”

Her eyes softened, though the smile always remained on her face. “There's a lot of shit in this world. We've both been through hell, we know what it's like. Why would I want to cause more of that? Especially when I can help, instead?”

You wanted to laugh at her, a part of you was almost angry that she acted like she knew what you'd been through. She was so kind though, you just couldn't find it in your undead heart to be mean to her. Still, you sighed and looked away. “I don't think you understand what it's like to go through hell.”

She laughed. She was laughing at you, why was she laughing? You straightened up, a bit startled and a little irritated that she would do that. She must've seen it on your face, too, because she held her hands up in defense as she stopped laughing.

“I'm sorry, that wasn't nice.” She still smiled. “It's just- it's not your fault but gods, you couldn't be more wrong. I mean I literally went through hell. A personal attack dog for Zariel for ten years. I know you've got time on me but, I mean… front lines of the Blood War? Maybe we call it a draw.”

You stared at her quizzically. There was no way this woman survived ten years in the hells and came out like this. She was so… friendly? “You can't be serious.”

“Dead serious.” She thumped her chest, a loud banging sound echoing out as though she was hitting steel. “Gave me this to remember them by. An infernal engine right where my heart should be.”

It made sense, she ran hotter than anyone you'd ever known. If she had fires from the hells roiling in her chest, that'd explain it. Still, it baffled you. Devils stole her heart from her and she still smiled at you and laughed and bantered.

Her smile softened just a bit, taking on a sadder undertone. “So trust me when I say I know what it's like to deserve better. I understand a lot more of what you're feeling than you might think. You're surrounded by good people, though.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You scoffed, pulling your knees in. Karlach was the exception, but you were positive every other person in this camp was just as vile as Astarion. “You've been harboring a monster with you this whole time, someone must've okayed that.”

“You mean Astarion?” She looked sadder now, glancing back towards the camp outside your tent. “He's not a monster any more than you are. Being a vampire doesn't just make you a monster.”

“Luring countless people to their deaths does, though.” You could see the way it hurt her when you spoke about him that way, but it was true. He'd probably just won her over with his fancy words and pretty lies. “And you're all letting him tag around and play hero! As though he deserves any of it!”

Your voice was rising in volume, you could hear it. You couldn't stop it though. It was hard not to let your emotions control you after everything. Especially now that you've actually got a bit of energy from feeding on Karlach. But you could see the sadness in her eyes at your words and that hurt.

“Astarion was a victim. Just like you were. It was just… in different ways.” She bit her lip, glancing down at her hands awkwardly. “This really isn't a conversation I should have with you. It's not my story to tell. All I can ask is that you give him a chance. Cazador controlled him too. He knows, more than anyone, the anger you feel.”

That was true. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Cazador had been using Astarion and his “siblings” for. It was hard to care how little say he might've had in the matter when your life was still over. It wasn't like you didn't blame Cazador but “Astarion still chose me.”

Your voice was soft now, tears welling up in your throat as you spoke. She wasn't hitting you with any new revelations. You had assumed Astarion had been manipulated or even controlled into fetching prey for Cazador. Various stories of him from your cellmates painted the picture of a man who didn't exactly want to be sacrificing strangers to an evil man but the point remained. He could've picked up any number of people. And he chose you.

Karlach didn't seem to know how to respond. You didn't know the woman too well but you got the feeling she wasn't speechless very often. Not that you minded when she was so friendly. Now though, you both just sat awkwardly in your tent, neither of you quite sure what to say.

Finally, after what was likely only about ten seconds that felt like a year, she spoke again, her voice quieter than you were used to. “He did.” There was no point in trying to make an excuse. There wasn't much sense in arguing. Obviously if he hadn't chosen you it would've been someone else, but what comfort would that be?

You had been miserable, starved and isolated for nearly two centuries. Stripped away from your family and friends, your home, every plan you ever had, everything. You were keenly aware it was selfish to wish such suffering on anyone else but, at a certain point, you stopped caring about your morality. You would've given anything for him to have chosen someone else.

It didn't feel good, when you first realized you felt that way. The recognition that your suffering had worn away at the very core of who you were. Thoughts and feelings you would've never imagined happening filled your mind. Violence and anger and bitterness. A deep, boiling hatred and a desperate longing for revenge. All emotions that you had never been terribly familiar with before all this, not really. Now they consumed you.

“I'm sorry.” Karlach's voice was gentle. Though her eyes displayed a kind of sadness, she still smiled. She still seemed so optimistic. You didn't understand. “Look, I'm not gonna make you do anything, but I think you should talk to Astarion. I'll be there too, if you want, so nobody kills anyone.”

You laughed. It was a short, somewhat bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “That seems smart.” You didn't want to talk to Astarion. He didn't deserve anything from you but… maybe Karlach did. She was the reason you were out of that shitty dungeon. Even if you were stuck in a tent, you hadn't realized how desperately you'd missed the fresh air. “Fine. I'll talk to him. But only if you're there too.”

Her eyes lit up and you could see her body move instinctively for a moment before she pulled it under control. She had nearly lunged out to hug you, before thinking twice about it. You would've let her. “Oh, awesome! Okay that's exciting. I promise, I think you'll feel better after this, I really do. I'll talk to him, maybe you can chat tonight. You know. When you can actually leave the tent without roasting.”

She smiled at you warmly. Clearly she had been banking on you agreeing to talk to Astarion, though you weren't sure why. Her excitement was contagious, though, and you found yourself smiling in spite of yourself. You wanted to hug her, you wished she'd gone for it and hugged you. It wasn't the sort of thing you felt you could go asking for yet though. So instead you just allowed the smile to remain on your face as you spoke. “Thank you. For- for being kind to me. Even though I'm… kind of a bitch.”

“Eh, you've got reason to be a bitch.” She gave your shoulder a playful shove. “Anyway, you need to rest. Finally had something to eat again after all this time, I'm sure you could use a nap.” She chuckled, rising from the ground in front of you.

She moved to the tent flap, carefully opening it this time to keep the sun's rays off your body. You couldn't help staring longingly at the beam of light on the floor, though. You glanced up as she spoke again, haloed now by the light from outside. “I'll go talk to him, you get some rest, yeah? Later!”

And with that she was gone. But still, you smiled. Her warmth still lingered. Besides, you knew she'd come back.

[baldursgat3]

im back and I'm bringing part 1 of enemies to lovers with me. this was originally gonna be another one shot but I hit 4k words before it could even really get started so this is chapter 1 I guess

originally I was writing this as Tav and then promptly realized it could not possibly be Tav so they're still pretty Tav-ish but I gave them a different name.

cw for brief mentions of non-consensual sex

It hadn't taken long for you and Sebastian to figure out the same man had lured both of you to your shared fate. The strongest bond you ever shared with him was your burning hatred of that beautiful man who had brought you to this horrid place. You would never forgive him. Never ever. For the rest of your immortal life you would burn with a rage and fury against the man who had condemned you to this unyielding nightmare. He had been so kind. His voice was so sweet and charming. He had captured your heart, you had trusted him completely. Maybe it was your own fault for leaving your heart so open, but you had fallen for him so quickly. You had only wanted to love him, and he destroyed you.

He spotted you instantly as you entered the tavern. How could he not? You were gorgeous. More importantly, you were alone. What was someone like you doing drinking by themselves on such a lovely evening?

It was so rare that he found such a decadent quarry. Half the people he brought back to Cazador weren't even interesting enough to remember their faces. Perhaps that was cruel but, after luring countless people to their deaths, he found it easier not to try to remember in the first place.

Still, Cazador was always so pleased when he could bring back such lovely prey. You were sure to fetch him some small reward. At the very least, he certainly wouldn't be punished for it.

With an easy, confident charm, he strode over to the table where you sat alone, watching the various patrons as they went about their business. “Is this seat taken?” His words were sweet as honey, already laying on the charm as he smiled at you.

You hadn't exactly been anticipating anyone interrupting your evening of lazy people watching but, admittedly, there were far worse people that could've been engaging with you. “Oh, uh...” Gods he was gorgeous. What was someone like him doing talking to someone like you? “No, no. Please.” You gestured towards the seat, encouraging him to join you.

He gave you a small, courteous nod as he took his seat across from you. “Tell me, what's a stunning little thing like you doing all alone in a dingy place like this, hm?” A smile danced across his lips as he leaned on the table.

Oh, he was flirting with you. That was odd. You weren't used to that, certainly not from a stranger. You drew your shoulders up a bit, your face turning red as you glanced away from him. “I, ah… I'm just trying to get out more. My friends say I spend too much time in my books so… I'm getting out.”

“And you're… just sitting alone at a tavern?” He couldn't help the little grin he tossed your way. You were precious.

“W- well… what else am I supposed to do? It worked didn't it? I'm here talking to you now?” Seems you weren't just a blushing mess. You had a bit of a bark on you.

His grin only widened, enjoying your attempt at banter. “You've got me there, darling. I don't believe I caught your name.”

You giggled softly, holding your hand out as you introduced yourself. “My name is Fey.”

He took your hand, bringing it to his lips to place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. You couldn't help the way your cheeks burned, you really had only been going in for a handshake. “A gorgeous name for such a gorgeous creature.”

He was far too good, this man was a grade A flirt. This was almost certainly his game. Wait at a tavern until he spots a pretty little thing to chat up and take home for the evening. You couldn't even really be upset about it, he was so gods damned good at what he did. It didn't matter that you were onto him, he already had his foot in the door with you.

Your face burned red as you turned back to the drink in your hand in an attempt to hide your shame. You were so not used to being flirted with and certainly not in public. More importantly, you could tell he knew that.

He was still holding your hand as he leaned in a bit closer. “There are far nicer places to spend an evening with such a decadent little treat.” He smiled warmly as he watched a blush creep onto your face. “Why don't we take this somewhere more private?”

Was that really all there was to this? Is this how people had one night stands? It was so wildly out of character for you to do something like this but, well, wasn't that why you'd come out in the first place? To step outside your comfort zone?

You tried to find a reason to say no - it's just that you felt like you should. But he was so gorgeous and charming. What was the worst that could happen?

So you just giggled and squeezed his hand with a nervous smile and a soft “Okay!”

~*~*~

You hadn't expected him to take you back to some kind of palace. It wasn't his, he said. He worked and lived there but said guests were perfectly welcome. Astarion had assured you there was nothing to worry about and you simply believed him. Why shouldn't you?

Things were so wonderful too. His charm only increased once he had you alone. Every word that escaped his lips sounded sugar sweet to your ears. It was like he knew exactly what to say to have you melting in his hands. You didn't even notice the distant look in his eyes, he masked it so well with his perfect touches and whispered praise.

Everything was so perfect. Already you could see the look on all of your friend’s faces when you told them what you'd gotten up to. Wouldn't they be proud? You were finally coming out of your shell, and in such a big way.

It scared the daylights out of you when you saw the door to the room swing open suddenly. Astarion had assured you no one would bother you. More importantly you could've sworn you'd seen him locking the door behind you.

Both of you seemed to notice a new presence in the room at the same time. You expected Astarion to start yelling at whoever it was or something. Instead, without a word, you saw the suave, charming demeanor drop from his face. It was replaced with a blank, almost empty look as he pulled away from you.

You watched him, confused, as you scrambled to wrap a blanket around your exposed body. Your gaze darted between Astarion and the new man that had walked into the room as your heart began to race in your chest. In an instant your mind was flooded with every real reason you should've said no to a strange man taking you into a large strange home.

No one knew where you were, no one knew what was happening. You didn't know what was happening.

“Well done, pet. Quite the decadent little treat, isn't she?” The man spoke. His voice could be best described, you felt, as slimy. He held himself with an air of importance as he sauntered towards you.

Astarion stood to the side, his eyes were downcast. He didn't even seem like the same person. His voice was quieter now. “Thank you, master.”

His words petrified you. For whatever reason, he had brought you here for this man, that much was clear. Your voice broke as you tried to speak despite the dread that bubbled up inside of you. “Wh- what's happening…? I- I think I'd like to go home now, actually…”

“Oh no, my dear.” The man spoke again, sending a bolt of panic down your spine. You clutched the blanket tighter to your chest as you watched him move closer to you.

He stood at the side of the bed, watching you with what you could almost describe as glee. Then he smiled and you saw them: sharp fangs that seemed to almost glint in the candlelight.

The pieces fell into place quickly as the blood drained from your face. You cast a glance back to Astarion - a desperate look, begging for his help. He didn't meet your gaze, his eyes focused squarely on the ground in front of him.

You felt the strange man grab your face, turning your head, forcing you to look him in the eye. His red eyes were almost… captivating. You felt yourself sinking into them, like you could just stare into them forever and ever.

“Follow.” He commanded. Your body replied and you didn't think anything of it until he pulled his gaze away from you. He held you by the wrist, tugging you out of the bed and your body followed obediently.

Though your body moved on its own, compelled by the stranger, you managed a brief glance back before the door slammed shut behind you. Astarion had finally lifted his head, only a bit. It only broke your heart more, what you saw on his face. No regret, no sadness. Only a blank, empty stare.

And then he was gone. Then everything was gone.

~*~*~

You didn't know how long you had been down there. Part of you felt perhaps you should at least be grateful you weren't one of the spawn being held in the large, dark chamber just beyond the heavy doors outside of your own cell. You weren't though.

No, you were part of such a special collection. There were six of you now. All held in one cell close to Cazador's private quarters. His little collection of prized dolls for his personal use.

Sebastian had been the first. By the time you had been tossed in beside him, he’d already been in there all alone for seven years. The two of you had bonded over your shared fear and sorrows. It could never go any further. Neither of you were capable of anything more than being a vague comforting presence to the other. And, eventually, more people joined you in your cell anyway.

It hadn't taken long for you and Sebastian to figure out the same man had lured both of you to your shared fate. The strongest bond you ever shared with him was your burning hatred of that beautiful man who had brought you to this horrid place.

You would never forgive him. Never ever. For the rest of your immortal life you would burn with a rage and fury against the man who had condemned you to this unyielding nightmare.

He had been so kind. His voice was so sweet and charming. He had captured your heart, you had trusted him completely. Maybe it was your own fault for leaving your heart so open, but you had fallen for him so quickly. You had only wanted to love him, and he destroyed you.

Everything was gone now. Every time someone new was tossed into your cell, always another victim of Astarion's, you were granted another look into how the world had changed without you. Your friends and family, all gone. Buildings you had once known had been torn down and rebuilt. Just from the descriptions, you felt as though you wouldn't even recognize half of your city if you could ever see it again.

It had been busy, lately. Cazador had been bustling about, preparing for this ritual or whatever. You'd heard whispers it would destroy all of the spawn. You didn't care. Besides, you'd heard your master’s voice angrily demanding people “find that wretched boy.”

Astarion had escaped. Somehow. Of course he had. The man who ruined your life would be the one to escape this misery, of course. You didn't know what you'd done to deserve such punishments from fate. Was it so necessary to kick you when you were down?

You had been curled up in a corner of the cell, unmoving, possibly for weeks at this point. There was no reason to waste the effort it took to move. You were hungry, starving, ravenous. You hadn't had a thing to eat in well over a century now and your body was weak. There was no reason to waste precious energy standing or thinking, so you curled in your corner and you stared at nothing until your eyes glassed over.

Sebastian’s voice pulled you out of it. The six of you had nothing left to talk about so you didn't bother. It had been quite some time since you heard any of their voices. “You… I know you.”

Slowly, you managed to pull yourself back into the present. There were several people standing in front of your cell. Strangers. A tiefling, a wizard, a githyanki, and… Him.

That white haired elf. That gorgeous man with his beautiful eyes and his silky sweet voice. He was speaking to the strangers and he looked almost… sad? You wanted to reach out and claw his throat open.

“I know these people…” He said, softly. “They were my… conquests.” His eyes met yours only for a brief moment. You felt an energy bubble up inside of you that you hadn't felt in so very long.

Still, you were starving and weak. It was all you could do to pull yourself up. You crept a bit closer as Sebastian shouted at Astarion. Your heart felt for him as he broke down.

You didn't have the energy nor the desire to add your own commentary. Nothing you could say would be any different than what Sebastian had said anyway.

The wizard spoke too, eventually promising to free all of the spawn. What a stupid idea. Not that you were going to complain. Weren't wizards supposed to be smart or something though? It didn't matter anyway, as soon as Cazador spotted Astarion it would probably be all over in a matter of minutes. You weren't exactly placing all your hopes and dreams on the man that ruined your life.

You heard him as they walked away though. He bickered with the wizard. It wasn't surprising when you heard him insist the spawn were too dangerous to leave alive. Of course he wanted to get rid of you. He was nothing if not a selfish, uncaring bastard. So why did his words make your heart ache so much. Why was he hurting you again, even now, after all this time?

The stupid little adventuring party traipsed their merry way through the heavy doors into the chamber beyond, leaving you all in silence again as the doors slammed shut. Good riddance. They wouldn't be walking back out, you were certain. Not that you'd even be around to find out. If they died, so would you. They were stupid enough to drag Astarion right back to the man who was going to destroy all of you. Why was your life always in the hands of anyone but yourself?

You and your cellmates chatted idly now, about the possibility that those idiots might actually succeed. About how it felt to see Astarion again. They all seemed… eager. They wanted to get out, to be free, to finally just eat something. You understood but you hadn't expected to be the odd man out.

Why would you bother leaving? There was nothing for you out there. Something to eat, sure. But what did that matter? You'd been starving for a century. At some point, it stopped bothering you. When all you can feel is your hunger gnawing endlessly at your bones for decades upon decades, you learn to ignore it.

Even if you escaped, you'd have to hunt. You'd have to kill something. Or someone. Likely whatever was closest. All of you were so weak though, you couldn't possibly stand a chance. You'd probably be killed before your first meal.

It sure was taking Cazador a long time to complete the ritual.

You leaned up against the wall, largely disinterested in the direction the conversation had drifted. Honestly, you thought they were all foolish for getting their hopes up. Not that you cared enough to say so. If they wanted to be happy, good for them. They deserved a spark of happiness.

Without any kind of pretense, the door to your cell suddenly dropped. It startled most of you, actually, you watched your companions all jump as the magic faded away with a hiss. No one moved for a moment, all of you just watching cautiously. Sebastian was the first to move, of course he was. He slowly stepped out of the cell, waiting for some kind of alarm to ring or for Cazador to swoop in and punish all of them for daring to think they could escape.

Yet there was nothing. Not even a whisper as the air hung heavily over the entire room. Even the children across the way didn’t speak. Slowly, everyone crept out of the cells, following Sebastian through the large doors into the chamber below. You didn’t follow. You only sat back down in your corner.

You had no intention of trying to force anyone to stay, but you were a little surprised that no one stayed with you. They actually didn’t even seem to notice you’d stayed behind. Not that it really mattered, you supposed. If your plan was to waste away forever down here, you didn’t exactly want a bunch of company.

They must’ve gone somewhere, they never came back through the hallway. None of the spawn did anyway. But the door did open again and you heard people quietly speaking to each other. Of course it was Astarion and his stupid friends. He wasn’t even the one to notice you, it was the tiefling that met your gaze.

“Hey! There’s one still in here, guys.” She grabbed the attention of the other three, as they turned and spotted you in the shadows.

“They’re taking all the spawn to the Underdark.” The wizard stepped closer, holding a hand out to you with a gentle smile. “Come on, you’ll catch up.”

“I’m not leaving.” Your voice was flat and seemed to confuse all of them. You stared at the hand that was offered to you. A small part of you felt like swatting it away, almost offended that he would assume you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. Still, you knew he didn’t mean anything by it. He was just trying to be helpful.

Astarion stepped forward now, more confused than any of them seemed to be. His hands were covered - absolutely covered in blood. He was here. And Cazador wasn’t. Of course he had been the one to kill the bastard. Of course Astarion got that luxury too. His voice made your skin crawl as he spoke to you for the first time in nearly two hundred years. “What do you mean you're not leaving? You're just going to sit in here and starve with the door wide open?”

“I've been starving for decades, what's your point?” There wasn't a reason for Cazador to bother feeding any of them. They didn't go out hunting for him, they only needed enough energy to sit and rot in a cell. And they wouldn't die without food so there was no point. Even the six of you, Cazador's special little toys, feeding you would've only made it easier for you to fight back.

Astarion scoffed - he scoffed at you. Your blood was already boiling and you were sure it was clear on your face just how angry you were. “So after all we did to free you, you're just going to sit here?”

“You say it as though it was a gift that you gave me personally” You scoffed right back. You didn't have the energy to move or stand up to fight him like you wished you could. He was so close, if only you had the strength to reach out and strangle him to death. “You let all of us go. So what if one stays behind? I'm not going to go terrorize the city once you leave, if that's what you're worried about.

“We don't know that. How am I supposed to trust you?” His eyes narrowed as he stared down at you. Your eyes were so much more tired as you stared at him right back. You were exhausted and angry. Nothing else mattered.

You set your jaw, staring him down, despite still sitting on the ground. “You don't fucking remember me at all, do you?”

“Of course I recognize you, I-”

“What's my name?”

“What?” You saw the look in his eyes when you asked the question. He didn't need to respond for you to know the truth, you could read it in his eyes.

Your own eyes narrowed as you glared at him. “What's. My. Fucking. Name.”

He cast a glance over towards his companions, almost helpless all of a sudden. His shoulders dropped as he finally looked back at you, an embarrassed, apologetic look in his eyes. “I… I don't remember… I'm sorry.”

A short, bitter laugh escaped your lips as you sat back against the wall, finally looking away from him. “Get away from me.” Your voice just sounded so resigned.

“You can't stay down here.” His eyes were gentler now, his voice a bit more tender. As though he actually was trying to seem like he cared. You didn't trust him further than you could throw him and, considering you couldn't even stand up right now, that wasn't far.

“I'll do whatever I damn well please. Haven't you done enough?”

“Look…” He cast another glance towards his friends who all looked like they'd rather do anything else but get in the middle of this conversation. “You say that now, but in ten years or twenty or a hundred, you'll get bored down here. And you won't have anywhere to go.”

“I'm not spending my days in the Underdark. I don't care. I'm not going to follow them. I don't have anywhere to go right now.”

“Then- then come with us!” He blurted out abruptly, not bothering to actually check with his companions.

You shot a look back to him like he was fucking stupid. Maybe he was. “Why in the hells would you want me to come with you? You ruined my life, I want to fucking kill you and you're inviting me to move in?” Maybe Cazador really had just broken his brain.

“The spawn is right.” You heard the githyanki speak up. “They're weak and useless now, and when they do grow stronger they'll only cause problems. There’s no reason for this. If they wish to rot, I say we let them.”

At least someone here was making some kind of sense. She seemed to be outnumbered though as the tiefling woman spoke up again. “You would be safer with us, you know. I know you hate him, and you've got every right to-”

“Excuse me?”

“But we can't change the past. You've got a life ahead of you now! Isn't that exciting? Even if it's not what you wanted, you can't just waste away in here.”

You didn't like the way her voice made your undead heart actually feel like it was beating for the first time in two centuries. You scowled at her for a moment, but it clearly took some effort on your part and you gave up quickly.

Your shoulders slumped and your face dropped as you gave up resisting. It was too difficult, honestly. You were still so exhausted, it was hard to come up with any kind of solid argument against her reasoning. Objectively, you knew it was foolish to waste away down here. And if you said no to this chance, your only other option was the Underdark.

“Fine.”

As soon as the word was out of your mouth, the tiefling woman grinned. She quickly scooped you up from the ground, carrying you bridal style in her arms. She was warm, she was so warm, she was so very very warm against your ice cold skin that had known nothing warm in centuries. It was all you could do not to burst into tears, but you wouldn't. Not in front of him.

The woman carried you out of the cell as you heard the wizard speak up again. “Excuse me! Do I not get a vote in this?”

“Sure, what's your vote?” She asked, not stopping.

They all began following, keeping pace behind her. “I mean, I was going to agree with you but that's not the point. What happened to making decisions as a team?”

“Oh, from you, Mr. I'm Smart Enough To Be The Leader?”

“I have apologized for that multiple times already, can we let it go?”

The two of them bantered so easily. Occasionally the other woman would speak up, offering the odd bit of dry wit and cynicism.

Astarion was uncharacteristically silent. You couldn't care less. If you'd had the strength, you would've pushed him off the stupid narrow bridges of the corridors.

It was hard to think things like that, though, when this very warm woman held you so tight. You had been sitting on the cold stone floor of Cazador's cell for nearly two hundred years. The only reprieve you ever had was when you were in his bed, and you honestly preferred the stone.

But she was warm. And kind. She seemed so genuine. After a while it became fairly obvious she was almost certainly inhumanly warm, but that didn't matter. You felt like you were melting and you wanted to let yourself.

Part of you didn't trust her though. After all, she was with Astarion. But it was hard to listen to that part over how kind her words felt. The way she seemed to care about you despite everything about you. How she managed to actually encourage you to feel… alive again.

[baldursgat3]

i really feel like not enough people have explored astarion using an umbrella to block out the sun. i feel like thats such an obvious visual gag to go for idc if it's not actually a functional form of blocking the sun he deserves to carry around a little goth ass parasol

[baldursgat3]

every time I ask if y'all wanna see angst or fluff, the angst initially takes the lead and then is summarily thrashed by comfort. almost like you guys don't want the vampire man to be sad. where's your sense of adventure wheres your fucking rage??

[baldursgat3]

actually if people wanna hit me with requests i want to write but inspiration is hard lmao. i wish to put Astarion into Situations

[baldursgat3]

The Astarion x Durge hurt/comfort fic was so good 😩 Everything was so vividly written and ugh my heart was aching for them both so much. And poor Astarion feeling guilty about hurting their eye even though he literally had no choice ugh such sweet angst! And the sweet fluffy ending to top it off! That was an absolutely wonderful fic! I look forward to reading more stories from you!

alfjdlfkskjfjsjs thank you 🥺🥺🥺 i enjoy putting this man in situations so much and then kissing him better because he deserves it

[baldursgat3]

the people have spoken they demand hurt/comfort and I seek to provide. this one was supposed to be short but it got away from me so instead it's 3.6k

i call this one So You've Fucked Up A Resist Durge Saving Throw

Astarion was in love. He wouldn't admit it, yet, not even to himself, but it was true. You were just so perfect. Gorgeous and funny and sweet and a little bit murder happy but that was all right. He didn't mind. He understood a bit of bloodlust. You were really just so kind to him. You made him feel safe and warm and happy in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before. It had been so long since he trusted someone like this. So long since he felt loved. He tried to pretend he wasn't but you were so good to him. You stood up for him, you didn't force him to bite that repulsive drow. You kissed him so sweetly and held him without any expectation of something more from him. Fight it all he liked, he was head over heels. Which, of course, made it all the more devastating when you finally turned on him. He should've seen it coming.

Astarion was in love. He wouldn't admit it, yet, not even to himself, but it was true. You were just so perfect. Gorgeous and funny and sweet and a little bit murder happy but that was all right. He didn't mind. He understood a bit of bloodlust.

You were really just so kind to him. You made him feel safe and warm and happy in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before. It had been so long since he trusted someone like this. So long since he felt loved.

He tried to pretend he wasn't but you were so good to him. You stood up for him, you didn't force him to bite that repulsive drow. You kissed him so sweetly and held him without any expectation of something more from him. Fight it all he liked, he was head over heels.

Which, of course, made it all the more devastating when you finally turned on him. He should've seen it coming.

He was pulled out of his trance by a vague pressure. As he quickly woke up, the world came into focus. You were straddling his chest, eyes wide with an unfamiliar frenzy. A moment later his senses registered and he realized what was happening.

Both of your hands were wrapped around his neck, squeezing with intent. He didn't need to breathe as a vampire, but that didn't stop a strangled gasp from escaping his lips. The suffocation might not kill him, but you were still crushing his throat. It hurt like hell and he was terrified.

Had he done something wrong? Something so wrong that you wanted to kill him over it? He had thought everything was going so well, he didn't understand.

His hands flew to wrap around your wrists as he coughed and sputtered - reflexes he no longer needed but ones that lingered regardless. Despite his best efforts, you were stronger than him, even under normal circumstances, he couldn't pry you off.

You looked borderline feral as you loomed over him, leaning all your body weight into his neck. Was this what all your victims saw before they died? Why were you trying to kill him?

He frantically searched with one hand for the dagger he always kept close by. A new horror dawned in his eyes as he realized you must've gotten rid of it. His legs kicked helplessly out as he tried to scream, only succeeding in making a small, gurgling sound.

All he had left were his hands. He sunk his nails into your shoulders, dragging them down with the intent of doing as much damage as he could. It didn't seem to faze you. He tried to claw through the fabric of your shirt, not finding enough purchase to do damage.

He stared up at you, eyes wide with fear. There was nothing familiar there, only a maddened bloodlust. A shiver ran down his spine as the thought came unbidden. “Is this what Alfira saw?”

You had destroyed the girl so violently, he had honestly felt sorry for her. You had expressed guilt after, though. Said that it wasn't you. Perhaps this wasn't you either?

It didn't matter. He felt as your fingers tightened against the back of his neck, lifting his head up off the ground before slamming it back down with a dizzying crack. This would absolutely kill him.

He really only had one line of defense left. He was so hesitant to use it though, especially if this wasn't you. You crashed his skull into the ground again, tearing a shredded gasp from his lungs. He didn't have a choice.

Despite fighting for his life, he still balked just a touch. Once more he sunk his claws into you, this time aiming for the eyes. Your gorgeous eyes that usually looked at him like he was the only man in the world. He knew he should just try to jam his thumbs into both sockets but he simply couldn't. Instead, he settled for carving deep gashes in your perfect, lovely face. Judging by your reaction, that was enough.

The sound you made as you pulled back, clutching at your right eye was animalistic. A loud, pained howl that instantly woke most of your companions.

Astarion scrambled backwards, clutching at his neck and coughing. His head throbbed, he didn't need to feel it to know his hair must be matted in blood already. The world around him spun as he sat up on his knees.

He saw you lunge towards him, only to be intercepted with a full tackle by Karlach. The whole camp was alive now, people shouting and calling both his name and yours. Did anyone else know that this wasn't really you? Was it really you? Were they going to kill you?

His entire body ached, his head felt like it was splitting in two. Maybe it was. He coughed again, doubling over as he felt the tingle of magic at the base of his skull. He felt Shadowheart’s hand on his arm, heard her say something to him but the healing wasn't enough to quiet the ringing in his ears.

Gale hurled a spell at you and, for a moment, Astarion's heart lurched in his chest. Just for that split second, he was certain they were trying to kill you.

There was no fire or burst of necrotic energy, though. Instead, the magic seized your limbs, pinning you effectively to the ground. Karlach had already done an efficient job of keeping you face down in the dirt but you weren't going down without a fight. You finally stilled though, despite the way your muscles tensed in protest. Karlach finally got off, taking a few steps away as everyone simply stared.

At least in this moment, they weren't trying to kill you. That realization, coupled with the healing from his cleric, finally calmed Astarion's nerves enough for him to pull himself back into the present. Honestly, he almost wished he hadn't.

Despite being held tight by the spell, you still were very active. Whatever in you that was driving this frenzy clearly wasn't stopped by a simple spell. You growled and tensed and writhed like a trapped animal. All the while your gaze was fixed on him. You had to kill him, had to feel his blood on your hands, you needed it like oxygen, you needed it, needed it needed it needed it.

“Well what do we do?” Karlach broke the tense stillness that hovered over your camp. “This is kind of a lot.”

How astute. Astarion finally moved, crawling the few feet that separated the two of you, despite a tepid warning from Wyll. He didn't care, he was certain none of these people would understand what he knew about you. Admittedly, though, he was realizing he didn't know as much as he thought.

“Darling…” He tried, softly. You only snarled in response. Your movement was so restricted, your body twitched and spasmed as it tried to break free of the spell. He could see the way your jaw tensed, he could hear your teeth clacking together as though you were trying to bite him.

In the soft moonlight, he finally got a good look at the damage he'd done. The blood was drying on your face already but he'd carved several deep cuts into your perfect skin. It was hard to tell if your eyes were narrowed in your rage or because he'd injured them.

He could hear the rest of the camp talking behind him. It was a little frustrating, actually. They didn't seem nearly as concerned by your distress as he was. Perhaps they didn't see this as distress.

He tried a few more times to quietly break through to you before Lae’zel entered his view. As much as he wanted to stop her from binding your limbs, he didn't exactly have a better alternative. So far his option of ‘Gently Urge Whatever Is Controlling You To Stop' was not exactly panning out. Perhaps if he wasn't recovering from a severe concussion he might've been able to come up with a better idea.

Of course he volunteered to stay up to watch over you. It really only made sense. He didn't really need to sleep anyway and he was worried sick about you. Besides, he figured Lae’zel knew how to tie a pretty good knot. You didn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. Gale had dropped the spell and, despite straining and thrashing against them fiercely, your bonds held strong.

Slowly, and with a good deal of uncertainty, your companions returned to their tents. Suddenly, Astarion found himself alone with you again. He sat nearby, though squarely out of your reach.

Whatever had your mind in it's grip didn't quite seem to care how tightly you were restrained. The idea that you wouldn't break free didn't seem to occur to you, you just struggled and fought and snarled. He kept waiting for you to stop, to calm down enough that perhaps he could talk you down from this but you never did. You just thrashed about until, finally, exhaustion overtook your body and you collapsed.

~*~*~

You awoke to a quiet camp as dawn's first rays struck you. Your head pounded and your vision was foggy. Your limbs felt cramped and sore. Your face hurt and your vision was blurry and… were you laying in the grass? Why were you out here and not with-

Astarion.

Oh gods, oh fuck. The memory of your conversation with Sceleritas hit you like a bull. With a jolt you sat up, tugging against your restraints as you frantically searched the camp for any sign of your love.

You felt your whole body relax as you spotted him standing just a few feet away, basking in the sunlight. Some of the perfect curls near the nape of his neck were stained red and slightly matted together.

He hadn't seemed to notice your shuffling and scrambling. He was alive so… what happened? Oh gods did you kill someone else?

“You're awake.” Oh, maybe he had noticed you. You couldn't read anything from his voice.

“Astarion… are you… okay?”

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes awash with emotion but mostly just sadness. “I'm not sure.” He could've just stabbed you, that probably would've hurt less.

“What… happened…?” You spoke so slowly, you were so scared to know the answer.

Astarion sighed, walking back over to cut you out of your restraints before sitting beside you. “Well, I'll admit, I didn't care for any of it. I'll say that much about this urge of yours.”

You flinched, drawing your knees up towards your chest. “I- I tried to warn you. I was going to wake you up but… I don't remember anything after that.”

“You woke me up, darling, I can guarantee that.” He scoffed, staring at the ground in front of him. “I thought I'd fucked up terribly, you know. I woke up to you trying to choke the life out of me, I had no idea what I'd done wrong.”

Guilt seized your heart and you had to stop yourself from trying to reach out to comfort him. Gods, you were so afraid of yourself. “You didn't do anything wrong…” The words came out as barely a whisper.

He sighed quietly, turning to look at you. “Is this what happened to the bard?” You nodded. “You don't have any control over it?” You shook your head. “It doesn't have anything to do with something I did?” You shook your head again.

It took him a moment, you could watch him running things through that clever head of his. Before you had a chance to worry, though, his face softened. “Come here, little love.”

You fell into his open arms immediately with a soft sob. What had such a wretched creature like you ever done to deserve someone like him? You curled into him, quietly sniffling against his chest as he held you tight.

“I'm not angry.” He whispered, dropping a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I know what it feels like - to have your will stripped away from you like that.” It was a feeling he wouldn't wish on anyone, let alone the single most wonderful person he'd ever met.

You couldn't help the choked out sob that escaped your lips as you curled up tighter. “It could happen again, though.” You didn't understand this evil compulsion that was able to so thoroughly consume you. You had no way of knowing when it would strike you.

“I'm not afraid.”

“You should be. I am.” Your voice was so fragile. You hated this chant in your head that screamed for his blood. Over and over again visions of his corpse flashed through your mind. It turned your stomach the way your heart fluttered at the thought of holding his lifeless body in your arms.

“Hey.” Astarion's voice pulled you out of the spiral you were beginning to fall into. “Don't get lost on me now, love.” He cupped your jaw, gently turning your head until you were looking up at him.

“We're going to make it through this.” He planted the softest, sweetest kiss on your lips. “You promised me that first, you know. That we would save my mind from Cazador's control. I'm happy to return the favor. We're going to break you free of whatever has a hold of you, my darling.”

It was so sweet. You didn't deserve it. The cruel, twisted thoughts that plagued your mind. The extreme violence you were capable of. You were dangerous, you knew that. He wasn't safe with you. “I'm a monster…”

“No more a monster than I am.” There was a touch of sorrow to his voice, nearly imperceptible. Something about it made this all feel so much more… genuine.

You didn't believe he was a monster, he told you you didn't know what he was capable of. Now here you were, roles reversed and you understood how he felt. He struggled to believe you and you felt the same.

Perhaps you were both monsters. Perhaps neither of you were. Whatever you were, though, it had to be the same. You two were the same. You each knew the other's hunger, understood the agony of losing control of your own body. So many atrocities had been committed by your hands for the will of someone else.

Your hand clutched the fabric of his shirt as you took a few deep breaths. His skin was cold but, still, you felt so warm in his arms. He kissed the top of your head again as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“My face hurts.” You whispered, finally, gently playing with the fabric between your fingers. Astarion stilled just a bit at your words, held you just a bit tighter.

He hesitated just a moment too long before answering. “I'm sorry. Can you see all right?”

You hadn't actually noticed, you'd been a little preoccupied with other things like crying and feeling sorry for yourself. Now that he mentioned it, though, things were a bit blurry. You knew there was dried blood on your face, it was probably stuck in your eyelashes.

You brought your hands up to scrub at your face. Only for a moment, though, before a shock of pain shot through your spine. Astarion felt you recoil and only tightened his grip on you further.

Ever so tenderly you brought your hands up to rub at your eyes. The left one was fine, covered with dirt and blood but nothing a good wash wouldn't fix.

The right one ached at even the slightest pressure, though. A wave of panic washed over you. You had already lost so much of yourself with your memories, it was hard enough to cope. The only thing you ever truly knew was how to kill. Losing your vision meant losing your depth perception meant losing your usefulness in combat meant losing the only thing you were good for meant-

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love…” Astarion's gentle words pulled you back from the brink of despair once more. His voice was laced with a heavy sadness as he pressed countless little kisses to wherever he could reach.

You were smart enough to put the pieces together. You had attacked him, he was defending himself. The alternative was letting him kill you. You had no one to blame but yourself.

Even still, you couldn't suppress the shaky sigh that betrayed how close to tears you were yet again. “Please- please don't cry, little love.” Astarion held you so tight to his chest as though he were afraid you would try to break free from his arms at any moment.

He couldn't help the guilt that crept up his chest as he clung to you, desperately. He never wanted to hurt you. Gods, hearing the sad little sounds of distress you were making was going to crush him. It was his fault, he hurt you. He could've taken another hit or two, should've taken them. He could've been louder, could've tried to use his legs instead. Could've done anything but hurt you like this.

Maybe it was temporary, maybe you would heal. He had to hope but… what if you didn't. Would you resent him? If he was the reason this wonderful, perfect- well… whatever it was the two of you had. If he was the reason it ended, because he had hurt you, he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself. As it stood, he wasn't sure if he could right now either.

“I'm so sorry I hurt you.” They were words that should've come from his mouth, yet it was your voice.

“Wh- what?”

“I don't know what happened. I know I hurt you, though. You've got blood in your hair, that couldn't have come from me.”

“I thought I got that out…” A sigh of annoyance escaped his lips before he could remember himself. “But-

“Maybe…” You interrupted, as you leaned all of your weight into his chest. “Maybe we just… both be sorry.” There was a lighter tone to your voice. You were trying to brighten the mood just a bit. Even now you were still trying to be so sweet and perfect. It was a shame the undertones of sorrow and guilt betrayed you.

Still, he leaned his cheek against the top of your head, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Mm… I'm very good at feeling sorry for myself.”

You couldn't help a small, teary giggle at that. “I think today is a good day to send everyone else out for supplies. We both need a chance to recoup after last night.” Still making plans for the day, despite all this. Gods he was so glad you had been made the de facto leader. He would've hated it. It was made ever sweeter that you let him attach himself to your hip.

Then he had to go and fall in love, didn't he? It didn't matter that you tried to kill him. Or that whatever it was that had tried to could wrest control from you again at any time. That wasn't you any more than he was Cazador.

You were the person in his arms right now, quietly rattling off a list of supplies the camp needed and who should find them and where. You were so smart, so thoughtful, so kind. He couldn't stand it.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, interrupting whatever you were talking about with the smallest gasp.

You stilled in his grip for just a second before you pulled back, just far enough to look at him and not an inch further. “I love you.” Your voice breathless and soft. “So much.”

He pulled you in, closing the small gap between your lips. He had to kiss you and you had no objections. It was warm and soft and perfect. It was almost overwhelming.

He loved you. And you loved him. Now you both said it, it was out there. It felt like a weight lifted off his chest. This ever quiet voice that whispered that you were only using him finally stamped out with just a few soft words.

“I love you.” He whispered again, against your lips. He should've been saying it this whole time. He meant it with his whole heart. No one had ever cared for him the way you have. No one ever captured his cold, fragile heart in their delicate, warm embrace.

“I love you.” You repeated, just as desperate. You had no idea who you were, what you were doing, or what in the hells you were going to do next. You yearned to spill blood endlessly and yet this clever, funny, gorgeous man trusted you enough to love you. Maybe he was a fool but so were you.

I love you. I love you. I love you. The words filled the quiet dawn in between breathless kisses. Said over and over as though they would be forgotten the instant after spoken.

You could've stayed like that for hours. Perhaps you did, you would have no real way of knowing. But time marched ever onwards, your serene moment slipping into the past as the sound of your companions waking cut through the gossamer thin world the two of you had woven.

“Perhaps…” Astarion was the first to speak, though his lips never left yours as he stole more kisses between his words. “Perhaps we should stop.”

With a deep sigh of resignation, you bore the burden of breaking the kiss. Admittedly, seeing the look of adoration in your darling's ruby red eyes was enough consolation to ease the pain. Besides, “We'll have plenty more time once everyone leaves for the day.”

[baldursgat3]

i cannot stare at this document any longer it's 5.1k words, here she is, per request of @thisisew

cw for major character death (kind of) and ascended astarion and durge being Generally Kind Of Fucked Up I don't think anything is excessive but they're not good people

He adored having you at his side - his precious little attack dog. He soothed your bloodlust, sating it as often as he could. There was no shortage of those who wanted to get in the way of his plans for the city of Baldur's Gate. He was happy to let you curb your hunger for violence on his political rivals.  Every so often though, things required a more thoughtful touch. He could just send you out with a name and a vague description and you'd be off like a shot. A few days later they would find a mangled corpse and blame it on the cult of Bhaal that still lingered beneath the city.  No, someone like this, someone this important needed a special touch. You deserved time to plan this one, to savor it. Part of him wished he could go with you to watch but he knew staying away was the easiest way to keep his hands clean. He knew you were more than capable of carrying out horrors all on your own.

Things couldn't have been more perfect. After surviving nearly two centuries of a living nightmare, Astarion felt he deserved nothing less than perfection. He had suffered so long, worked so hard, he had earned this.

He stood on a balcony of the former palace Szarr, basking in the sunlight that poured over the city - his city. He had killed the local vampire lord, freed the city from the clutches of a tyrannical bastard, and rescued the universe from the devastating power of the Nether Brain. He had everything he wanted and he was adored.

More than power, fame, or freedom, one obsession had gripped his heart in a way nothing ever had before. His dearest treasure, Chosen of Bhaal. You had sunk your claws into the very essence of his being. He needed you, craved you, claimed you.

The two of you worked in tandem, like a well oiled machine. His silver tongue and nimble fingers meant he could get most things he wanted. What he couldn't get his way could, more often than not, be solved your way.

He adored having you at his side - his precious little attack dog. He soothed your bloodlust, sating it as often as he could. There was no shortage of those who wanted to get in the way of his plans for the city of Baldur's Gate. He was happy to let you curb your hunger for violence on his political rivals.

Every so often though, things required a more thoughtful touch. He could just send you out with a name and a vague description and you'd be off like a shot. A few days later they would find a mangled corpse and blame it on the cult of Bhaal that still lingered beneath the city.

No, someone like this though, someone this important needed a special touch. You deserved time to plan this one, to savor it. Part of him wished he could go with you to watch but he knew staying away was the easiest way to keep his hands clean. He knew you were more than capable of carrying out horrors all on your own.

He couldn't wait to tell you about your next target, it had really been such a long time coming. He was sure you'd be thrilled and he couldn't wait to see the sparkle in your eyes. Surely you were around here somewhere, he just had to find you.

Astarion turned on his heel, striding calmly back inside to search for his little love. It hardly even surprised him this time as he suddenly found himself with a dagger against his throat as soon as he had stepped out of the light.

"Darling, we really must work on your greetings." He purred, tipping his head back to glance at you

Your other hand wrapped around him to cup his jaw, fingers trailing delicately over his porcelain skin. "You don't like it?" You pressed the dagger just a bit firmer against his neck. "I can hardly stand it. Gods, I want to split your throat open and watch you bleed for me." You cooed, your grip on the hilt shifting as you struggled to resist the flame in you that ached endlessly, just yearning to hear your love's final breath.

But not yet. Not yet.

The threats that spilled from your lips sounded sweet as sugar to Astarion. He knew your hunger, knew that you meant every word. More than that, he knew your desperate longing to spill his blood was born of a twisted blend of the terrible love of death you held and the wonderful, perfect love the two of you shared.

Every prick of blood drawn with your dagger that was tenderly kissed away was as good as a love letter to him. He didn't mind when your fingers would find their way to his throat, trembling with the willpower it took not to crush his windpipe. It all felt like the most sincere displays of love and trust he could possibly dream of.

"Not today, pet." He wrapped a hand delicately around your wrist as you let him pull the dagger away from his throat. "I have something special I'd like to ask of you."

"Anything." You pressed in close to him, weapon still held tight as you rested both hands against his chest.

"I want you to destroy Wyll Ravenguard."

~*~*~

Your mind had spun with so many possibilities. Wyll had been such a good friend through your journey along the Sword Coast. He had attempted to comfort you in the times before your mind fully returned to you. When you rebelled against the violence that was etched into your very soul.

He was so kind, people loved him. He didn't deserve to die, and that made it so much sweeter. His death had to be perfect, you decided. You wanted it to be intimate and personal. A murder hand tailored just for your dear friend.

Of course, he hadn't stuck by your side once he had realized that his peaceful ways had no claim to the life you chose to lead with your beloved. You understood, of course. Not everyone could grasp the way murder was truly just an act of worship. After all, if everyone was a murderer, there could be no innocent victims and that would never do.

What sort of death was befitting someone like Wyll? Not only someone of such status, but someone so personally dear to you? Poison would be nice. Perhaps you could invite him to dinner. You could prepare something special, something that would have him frothing at the mouth before succumbing to the toxin.

No, no, that was far too unbecoming for someone as lovely as Wyll. Perhaps you could gut him? It would be so intimate but you didn't really want to hear him scream. It was so violent, so feral, such an ungraceful way for the son of the Grand Duke to die.

You wanted it to be soft, personal. You wanted to wrap your fingers around his beautiful neck and squeeze. Your hands twitched with your desire to feel his pulse fade under your touch. You could take him out for an evening stroll, a chance to catch up.

If you had to, you could lie about needing his help. Wouldn't that be sweet? "Oh Wyll, I'm a monster. I need help but I'm so frightened of what Astarion might say." The Blade of Frontiers surely wouldn't be able to help himself. You could almost picture the look of betrayal in his eyes already.

Yes, that was it. Lure Wyll out with a sob story, begging for his help. Then, crush the life out of him as the shock set in. Maybe if you were very lucky he'd die with your betrayal written in his eyes. It was perfect.

It was supposed to be perfect, anyway.

~*~*~

You were late. It wasn't all that concerning, not at first anyway. Astarion had expected you back within three hours. That was the time frame you gave him. Long ago, he'd learned to give you an extra hour as you seemed to be such a truly awful judge of time when you had your hands in your victims innards.

Even your extra hour was up now, though. Suddenly, his mind began to race with the worst possible scenarios. There was no way Wyll could've overpowered you. Unless he got lucky. Unless he struck first? Why would he do that, you were supposed to be lying to him?

So then where could you be? He had already resolved that the two of you would have to talk about your ability to stick within a time frame. Four hours was more than enough time to strangle someone to death. If he found out you lost track of time carving poems into Wyll's skin, he was going to be furious.

Every second that ticked by without you felt like a lifetime now. He had to go find you, he couldn't sit here anymore. What if something had gone horribly wrong and he was just twiddling his thumbs.

He practically sprinted towards the front door, only stopping short when it creaked open in front of him. He stopped on a dime as he watched you take a few, shaky steps into the palace before collapsing.

In an instant, he was at your side. He slammed the door shut behind you, barking orders to nearby spawn to get you medicine, bandages, healing potions, anything.

He bundled you into his arms, tenderly but with a near feral desperation. Dried blood stained your face, your nose was absolutely broken. You'd been stabbed multiple times and the entire right side of your body was scorched.

The way you crumpled to the ground, unable to even bask in the agony of your own wounds, something was horribly wrong. “My love… precious little love, what happened?”

He ever so tenderly cupped your jaw as you groaned quietly in pain. You squinted up at him, his eyes were so worried and you were in far too much misery to dream about plucking them from his skull. “He didn't come alone…”

An ambush? Astarion's grip on you tightened just a bit as a wave of anger coursed through his body. He had known what your plan was, what should've happened. Wyll hadn't trusted you, he didn't believe you. Of course, he was right not to, but that didn't make Astarions blood boil any less. “Who else was there?”

One of the spawn returned with a healing potion that he brought to your lips before you could respond. It wasn't much, but it was enough to dull some of the ache. You'd taken several blasts of force magic to the chest, you knew many of your ribs were broken. Definitely your sternum, you hoped he had more options that could mend that break.

“Gale.” You mumbled, blinking up at your darling. “Shadowheart, Karlach, Halsin, Lae’zel. I could've handled two or three but… six. Like he gathered everyone he possibly could…”

Wyll hadn't trusted you an inch, that was obvious. How disappointing. Another spawn arrived with more healing items that he gently administered. “Tell me what happened, darling.” He clearly had no intention of moving you just yet, he was so worried. You could practically smell the fear radiating off him.

It wasn't the same fear you craved. You craved the fear of death. The panic and knowledge that they were about to die always felt like an aphrodisiac to you. It was different when someone was afraid of someone else dying. Especially now that it was targeted at you, by your sweetest love, you could confidently say you didn't care for it.

“I thought it was perfect. He was listening, he seemed so genuine. I cried and begged him for his help, I don't know if he actually believed me.” You winced as Astarion gently started to wipe some of the blood from your face. “The instant I touched him I got a fire bolt to the chest. They swarmed like pathetic little rats.”

“Calm, darling. You need rest, you need to stay still.” His voice was even and measured. It was too perfect, you knew he was barely concealing a seething rage underneath that voice.

“They were going to kill me. Me. After everything I did for them, everything we did together. They all wanted to kill me.” The hypocrisy was not lost on you. You were there to kill Wyll after everything the two of you had been through. It was one thing for you to have murder on the mind, another thing entirely for the bleeding hearts of your ‘friends.’

“I barely managed to slip into the shadows. I could hear them hunting me still, though. I had to practically drag myself back here.” You were angry, so angry. It was supposed to be perfect. You had wanted so, so terribly badly to hear Wyll's dying breath escape his beautiful lips.

You felt Astarion move, gently and slowly, until he had his arms under you, scooping you up bridal style. You often forgot just how strong his ascension had made him, he held you with all the same effort one might hold a cat. Like you were practically nothing in his arms.

“You need to rest, my pet.” You could feel his hands trembling as he held you tight. His undead heart raced in his chest and you didn't even have the energy to fantasize about ripping it out. Rest sounded so nice.

Failing a hunt was always devastating but this was something else. You had been so excited, you never considered the possibility that Wyll would be smart enough to bring backup. You'd relied so heavily on his desire to be a hero, you really expected him to believe your sob story.

Before you knew it, your love has whisked you away to your bedroom, tucking you securely into the comfortable sheets. He sat beside you, gently brushing your hair for a moment as he watched you situate yourself and your broken body. “I'm sorry.”

You didn't expect an apology, that was interesting. “For what?”

“I should've gone with you. We should've been smarter about this and now- now look at you. They could've killed you. Tossed your corpse in the Chionthar, I would've had no way to get you back.” His eyes were dark and angry but you could see his concern written plainly behind them. He was terrified.

“I should be the one apologizing…” you wanted to reach out and grab his hand but your whole body felt so heavy. “I failed. Now they all know he's your target, we won't get another chance. And who knows what they might say.”

“They won't say anything.”

“How can you-”

“I'm going to destroy them. Every last one, understand? I'm so sorry, darling, I know how badly you want to end them but you need to rest. Please.”

“Astarion, you can't go out there, they're still going to be on high alert. They're probably closing in on the palace as we speak. There's still only one of you and six of them. I know they didn't burn all their resources on me, you can't.”

You understood his urge to kill, more than anyone in the world. Your heart broke in your chest with the knowledge that Wyll would survive the night. You had been so eager for his blood, you truly couldn't have imagined the night going this way.

In retrospect, one of you should've guessed that he wouldn't trust you. You should've been prepared for this. You were getting sloppy and that simply wouldn't do.

You tried to push yourself up a bit, fighting a losing battle against Astarion's firm hand on your shoulder that held you down. “Astarion, if you're going to go, you have to take me with you, if we're together-”

“No.” His voice was stern despite the concern that was woven through it. “You're in no state to be doing anything right now.”

“And you will die if you go out there now.” You reached out to grab his hand, staring at him, eyes wide with worry. “Please, please, I'd go mad if anything happened to you, I beg you don't do this. I'm sorry I failed you, please don't go out there.”

Astarion knew your words held a double meaning that made you far more desperate to keep him at your side. You didn't want him to go out because it was dangerous and you couldn't imagine your life without him. More than that, though, he knew if anyone else ended his life you would raze Baldurs Gate to the ground.

One day, far off in the future, he knew you would be the one to end him. You didn't have a plan, it wasn't going to be any time in the next few centuries at least. His blood belonged to you, though, as much as you belonged to him. He was going to be your magnum opus one day, he had to survive.

Leaving Wyll alive meant that he could spread rumors that you had tried to kill him. Your status in the city was… complicated. Some people revered you as a hero along with the others, some believed you were the head of the cult of Bhaal that still ravaged the city. Others still believed you were dead, that every claimed sighting of you was just another person.

None of them were entirely true, no one knew who you really were. You had helped save the city. You were important to Bhaal’s cult. You certainly weren't dead. You liked how vague it all was, it meant you could get away with things. But if Wyll was going to out you, things were going to change. Especially if he outed Astarion in the process.

Your friends knew how close the two of you were. They knew you were, together, something worth fearing. There was no doubt in your mind that one of the six people that had tried to kill you would spill this story. It would probably be in bold print on the Gazette tomorrow.

“You didn't fail me, my love.” He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your head, breaking off the frustration and panic running through your mind. “I'll stay.”

~*~*~

He did stay, at least for a while. Just long enough for you to fall asleep. He knew you were exhausted, your body needed time to recover. You'd be out cold for hours.

Astarion stalked through the halls of the palace with an aura of malice that frightened each spawn and servant he passed. Everyone saw the flame in his eyes and no one dared to interrupt him.

How dare they? Who did they think they were? To attempt to take you away from him? They should've known better, they should've known that Astarion wouldn't stand for it.

They knew how much he loved you, were they stupid? They tried to kill you, like they didn't think it would bring the wrath of the vampire ascendant. He was going to destroy every last one of them. Did they not know you were his? Did they not realize the power he wielded?

Every second that passed by flooded his mind with images of your broken, injured body. The way they all seemed to have gotten a strike in on your beautiful, delicate skin. As though they had any right to touch you - any right to look at you.

His mind raced with “what if’s.” If you hadn’t managed to get away, if your wounds had been any worse - might he have lost you for good? At the hands of people who had once claimed to be his friends, your friends.

The idea of losing you was enough to drive him mad. His pulse raced as his attention honed in solely on making them suffer for what they had done to you. He couldn’t survive without his darling, he needed you like oxygen. He was obsessed, he knew that, he didn’t care. He had earned the right to be obsessed and now these people were threatening everything he had worked so hard for - suffered so long for. He wouldn’t stand for it.

He tossed open the ornate front doors to his palace, calmly striding out and down the steps with his arms folded casually behind his back. In his eyes, though, there was a dark malice that shone in the moonlight. “Wyll Ravenguard.” He called out, into the night. His voice was even, betraying only a hint of the rage he felt. “No use hiding, I’m sure you’ve all found your way here by now. We can discuss this like civilized adults.”

A moment passed as his voice faded away into the night air. Then a response. “The time to discuss anything has passed, Astarion.” Wyll stepped out of the shadows, blade readied. “You sent your attack dog to murder me in the streets, there’s nothing civilized about this.”

As he spoke, the others emerged into the moonlit courtyard, each prepared to strike. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken this as a personal offense, Wyll. You are, unfortunately, a rather big obstacle in my plans for the city. I’m sure you understand, I’ve got nothing against you, personally. You simply hold a tragically high title. I know you’re no stranger to political turmoil.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Karlach spoke up, adjusting her grip on the battleax she wielded. “So the fuck what if it’s political or personal, you tried to kill him.”

Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “And you tried to kill my pet.” He bit back a grin at the revulsion that radiated off some of your former companions at his choice of words. “We've all made mistakes tonight.”

He was so calm for someone surrounded by powerful, angry warriors. He remained unfazed as they slowly closed in around him as well. “She’s too dangerous to live.” Gale spoke as he stepped closer to the vampire, hands sparking with potential magic. “Especially being wielded as your weapon.”

“And she is such an effective one too, isn't she? Well, when she isn't being betrayed, it seems.” He threw a pointed grin at Wyll.

“Betrayed? Because I'm not a gods damned idiot, I'm the betrayer?” Wyll retorted, bitterly. “I wanted to trust her. Gods, do you have any idea how hopeful I was that she genuinely wanted my help? I would've forgiven her in an instant, but I'm no fool, Astarion. Even if it had been genuine it would've taken a serious lapse of judgment to find myself alone with a Bhaalspawn at all.”

Astarion just tutted softly, looking back at him like this was all just some kind of silly game they were playing. “It's a shame, the Bhaalspawn would've killed you kinder than I will. At least with my darling, murder is such a passion. I, meanwhile, want to rip into you with my bare hands and turn you inside out for threatening to take my love from me. Do you understand that? Who you're fucking with?” His calm demeanor was starting to slip as his barely contained rage was bubbling to the surface.

Wyll seemed to recognize this, holding one hand up in defense, though the other kept his blade readied. “You're right, this is political. I don't exactly want to cause a power vacuum in the under city. I don't want to kill you or her. We were friends, once. We all were. But hasn’t she caused enough carnage?”

“What?”

“I can be quick. This doesn't have to be messy. You can't be stupid, Astarion, she wants to kill you just as badly as she wants to love you. One day it's going to be you on the receiving end of her bloodlust. We could end it now, though. Rid Bhaal of another chosen, scatter the cult. Hells, I'll let you claim it, add another notch to your fake hero belt.”

Astarion stared at him for a moment, taking in the offer that had just been laid on the table. Had he been a more sensible man, more reasonable, less utterly obsessed with you, perhaps he could've seen the logic in such an argument.

He wasn't a reasonable man, though. Instead, his eyes darkened with a fury that shocked Wyll into taking a small step back. “You're kidding? Right, you're joking? To attack my love and show up on my doorstep to demand I hand her over to be slaughtered?

“You think I don't know how badly she wants to destroy me? She spends every day itching to bleed me dry and yet, here I stand. Every morning I wake up to her sleeping peacefully beside me, it's just like falling in love again. I am her number one target and she chooses every day to spare me. I would sooner rend the fabric of reality apart than hand her over to you.”

Before he had even finished speaking, the magic that built around Gale erupted. A blue streak of lightning lit the night around them as the wizard loosed the first blow, nearly catching Astarion off guard. Nearly.

A moment before the lightning could connect, Astarion vanished. He reappeared behind Gale, lodging his dagger squarely between his ribs and twisting as he leaned in close. “You forget who you're dealing with, here. I am a fucking god.”

He shoved Gale forward, sending him crumpling to the ground. Shadowheart lunged forward, already channeling a prayer. She was stopped dead in her tracks with a snap from the vampire, however. “I suggest you reconsider.” He smirked as she straightened up, her prayer morphing and twisting. The healing energy that had been building around her coalesced into a deadly bolt of light that streaked towards the unconscious mage.

As Gale stilled underneath Astarion, the rest of the party came to life, all brandishing their weapons with the intent of taking down the vampire lord in his own courtyard. How quaint.

Their attacks narrowly avoided him, catching him not nearly as often as he struck them. Despite their best efforts, they were facing down an enemy that held more power than they could ever hope for. He wasn't truly a god, he had only a few dedicated worshipers but they could more accurately be called fanatics. Regardless, his power could rival some lesser gods.

It was different than facing down a Chosen. Power gifted to an avatar was nothing compared to what came from a gods own hand. Maybe if there had been a few more of them, perhaps if he hadn't taken out their wizard instantly, maybe they would've stood a chance.

He wasnt sure when it happened, at some point Shadowheart and Halsin disappeared. A tactical retreat or simply fleeing a fight they knew they couldn't win. It didn't matter, he could hunt them down later.

There was a feral part of him that so rarely got to see the light of day. Somewhere deep and dark in whatever remained of his soul. These kills didn't need to be clean. Perhaps, he thought, as he buried his claws into Lae’zel’s stomach, grabbing and ripping out what he could. Perhaps Gale had gotten off too easy.

Should he revive him after all this? He was so smart, he could be a useful spawn. Maybe he could even be a little gift to you. Your own little toy to torment as you pleased.

Karlach dropped to the ground, the rage and adrenaline that had been powering her through the multiple deep wounds she'd received finally giving out on her. That was all right, she could bleed out, Astarion didn't mind. Now he could turn all his attention back to Wyll.

The man stood before Astarion, despite sustaining several injuries. He still held his sword tightly, though it wavered ever so slightly. He didn't speak, his face was awash with countless emotions.

“Are you going to be a hero, Wyll? Stay and fight bravely until the bitter end? A stupid, pointless fight that's already killed two of your precious friends. And seems to be working it's magic on a third.” He nodded towards Karlach, still breathing heavy, still clinging to life.

Astarion had taken a few solid hits, he wasn't doing exceptionally well, but he was still faring much better than his old friend. “You don't have to be a hero.” He continued, watching him calmly as his wounds slowly knitted back together. “In fact, take her. Run. Go and survive and live to fight another day. You're no good to the coast dead, Mr. Frontiers.”

Wyll stared at him, eyes flicking to Karlach for just a moment. “I'm not an idiot, as soon as I turn my back you'll be on me.”

“Oh I don't know about that. I've thought of something far more fun. How about we cut a deal? I know you're a big fan of making deals that are bad for you, you should be an old pro.” The grin that spread across Astarion's face was enough to make a shiver run down Wyll's spine.

He'd seen that smirk before. That was the look of a devil who knows he's won. Something about seeing it on the face of a man who used to be his friend, it made Astarion far more intimidating than Wyll would've liked. “What… deal?”

“You leave now, I'll even let you take poor Karlach.” He threw a fake frown in her direction. “Or stay and I will gut both of you like the pitiful creatures you are. However, know that if you leave, I will hunt both of you to the ends of the world. It'll be like a game between us. One that will end with your mutilated corpses crushed beneath my boot. But you will live to protect your precious city another day.”

“Why? Just a minute ago you were content to slaughter all of us in your front yard. You won, why bother?” He didn't trust it, not an inch.

Astarion just laughed softly at him, cocking his head. “I changed my mind. Am I not allowed? No, I think I much prefer the idea of you spending the rest of your days hiding from me. I want you to go to bed every single night of your pathetic life wondering if this will be the night I put you out of your misery. Maybe I'll even send my Bhaalspawn after you to finish the job she started. Wouldn't that be fun?”

His voice was calm and collected, as though this were the most casual conversation in the world. He wasn't bluffing, and Wyll wasn't exactly interested in trying to test him. He bit his lip, his gaze shifting between Karlach and Astarion.

“Better pick fast, my friend. She won't last much longer, and I'm sure you don't want to leave her of all people with me.

“Fine. Fine, gods damn it all.” If only looks could kill, then perhaps Wyll mightve stood a chance alone against the vampire ascendant.

“I'll see you soon, my favorite little toy.” Astarion grinned like a madman as Wyll knelt beside Karlach, quickly casting a spell that teleported both of them away from the courtyard and out of view.

Astarion only chuckled to himself, rather pleased with the game he'd just made. He wouldn't even have to do much besides threaten him every so often now. And one day he would kill him, when he got bored or angry enough.

His attention turned to the two corpses left in the grass near him. Lae’zel and Gale, two incredibly powerful individuals. He could not wait until you woke up to find your new toys.

[baldursgat3]

we're slowly finishing things out here boys. companion piece to this one.

we got 4.3k more words of childhood best friend Tav (who I made a wizard because). act 3 edition this time 🎉

~*~*~

There it was: home. The city you had grown up in. How long had it been since you'd seen these streets? How many months had you been venturing across the Sword Coast with a mission to stop some gods? However long it had been, you were here now.

It was a bittersweet reunion, though. After your meeting with Gortash mere moments ago, no one was feeling particularly at ease. Wyll and Karlach in particular were half seething about the tenuous alliance you'd formed with the new archduke. You had no intention of making good on his offer, but safety from the Steel Watch was the only way you were going to get anything done.

Gale led the charge, his targets set on Sorcerous Sundries. He chatted away about the various books and baubles he'd found there over the years as you walked the busy streets.

Glancing back, you noticed your favorite vampire lagging behind the group. He stared up at the buildings and at the bushes that lined the pavement, all with stars in his eyes. They dimmed when he caught you watching him as he glanced away, awkwardly.

You slowed your pace to fall in step with him, leaning in to whisper as you walked. "You never look at me like that."

"Nonsense." He scoffed, waving a hand at you, dismissively. "Have you seen yourself after a battle? Half the time it takes all my focus not to look at you like you're my next meal."

"Half the time I am your next meal." You gently bumped your shoulder against his. "What's up?"

"Nothing, it's just… it's been two hundred years since I've seen these streets in the sunlight. It's all so… colorful." His gaze drifted back to a small pot of lovely blue flowers as you passed by.

It was so genuine, you couldn't help yourself. You reached down to link your fingers with his, giving his hand a soft squeeze. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"

"Oh, darling, of course I don't."

"That's all right, neither do I. Why would I have taken you to the magic trinket shop?" You tossed him a cheeky grin as he rolled his eyes and yanked his hand away.

"I can't fucking stand you, you know that?"

"I know."

"If you two are done flirting back there," Gale's voice stopped you as you both became aware of all the attention now of you. "As our intrepid leader and person with all our gold in their bag, I do believe Tav should be heading this mission."

"You just don't want to talk to Rolan." Shadowheart chided, continuing past Gale and into the magic shop.

He turned on his heel, following after her, his voice dropping to a hissed out whisper. "We don't want the person selling us things to be angry with us and I can't keep my mouth shut, you know that."

Every so often you forgot you were still on a mission. Sometimes, as you perused a bookshelf and your companions squabbled over who should get to use a certain magic item, it all felt so mundane. Like it was any other day out with some friends.

Astarion was stood beside you, flipping through a book absentmindedly as you debated whether the magical benefit of the boots you were holding outweighed the fact that they didn't really match your outfit.

"You bought me a ring here." He broke the comfortable silence between you, without looking up from the book. You glanced over at him, tilting your head and humming a curious note in response.

"I remember." He continued. "When you had first started learning magic. You brought me here and I didn't understand anything you were saying. I remember you being so excited, though."

He'd stopped turning the pages of the book, just staring at it like he was reading the memory off it's pages. "You bought me a ring, a cheap little thing, because you wanted me to feel what it was like, casting spells, and you couldn't get me to figure out how to do it without an item to help."

A wistful smile found it's way to his lips as he glanced up at you. "I'd entirely forgotten. I always kept it, you know. Even though I absolutely did not get what you felt with magic. It was a nice gift, though."

You laughed softly, reaching out to grab his hand again. "Well, I'm glad you liked it." He didn't remember much about the specifics of your past together. You couldn't blame him, he'd been through so much. Every so often though, something would trigger a memory for him.

He smiled at you warmly for a moment before pulling back to put his book away. "Don't get those boots, by the way, they're hideous."

~*~*~

It was a gorgeous night. There was a faint chill to the air that left your cheeks a bit flushed, but nothing unmanageable. It was comfortable and quiet. The stars were beautiful, twinkling like little diamonds in the sky. Perhaps you should've been a bard, with thoughts like that.

The rest of your companions had gone to bed, while you and your ice cold vampire lingered by the fire. He was laying on his side with his knees drawn up close. His head rested in your lap as your fingers brushed lazily through his curls.

Neither of you minded the silence, you just enjoyed the comfort of being next to each other. He was still pretty averse to taking your intimacy too far, not that you minded. He had plenty of reason to be and you felt no need to push it. These moments were more than enough for you. The two of you had centuries of quiet, lovely moments to make up for.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. Eventually he broke the silence, turning his head to glance up at you. "Can I ask you a… strange question?"

Well that could be literally anything. "Sure?"

He turned back to the fire, settling back in. "Do you remember what color my eyes were? I know they're red now, I've been told so many times. I've heard they're gorgeous." He drolled, sarcastically.

That wasn't exactly what you were expecting but it did melt your heart a little. You obviously knew, though you felt it was probably wise to pretend you didn't have that answer already nocked on your bow. "Oh, um…" Nailed it. "They were brown. Like a deep, cool brown." That was probably too much.

He just hummed in response, seemingly unbothered that you would remember the undertones of his eyes after two centuries. "See, I couldn't remember. I've tried to picture it but I always felt it was either brown or an icy blue. I think my mother had blue eyes like that."

"I think so." You could probably count the number of times you'd spoken to his mother since you moved out of her home at 20. You did not know the color of her eyes.

"It doesn't help, I really don't think I even know what I look like anymore. I haven't seen my own face since I became a vampire." You hadn't really thought about that, honestly. He'd mentioned being unable to see his reflection once or twice but you'd never actually grasped what that must be like for him.

"Oh. Get up, get up. Stand up, I have an idea." You gently pushed on his shoulder, getting an irritated whine in return.

"I'm comfortable."

"I know but get up."

He groaned, pushing himself off the ground with a huff as you quickly followed suit. Your eyes sparkled as you quietly muttered an incantation. Astarion tried to raise a question but was silenced as you finished the somatic component of your spell.

All of a sudden, standing in front of him, reflecting his shock, was a mirrored image of himself. Just as perfect and lovely as he was. He just stood there for a moment, staring at himself in the firelight. "Oh… Gods, do I really look that old?"

You couldn't help laughing at him softly as he reached up to touch his face. He stared intently at his copy as it mimicked his movements. "We are almost 250 years old."

"I look older than Halsin!"

"You do not. And I know you think he's gorgeous, don't even act like that's an insult."

"You never let me bitch the way I want."

"I don't let you pretend you're blind, apparently." You were so glad this went well. There had been a vague worry that he might be more upset at seeing himself as a vampire but he mostly just seemed fascinated by his features.

"Well, all I can say is gods no wonder everyone always said they were 'blood red.' Seems a little on the nose though, don't you think?"

"I think they're beautiful."

"Of course you do, you have to or I'll cry." He threw you a grin before turning back to the reflection. "Thank you, for this. I always knew supporting your studies would be useful to me some day."

You rolled your eyes at him, a warm smile lighting up your face. "I am ever at your service, my love."

~*~*~

If you were being honest, you wanted to be a little selfish. Astarion had told you enough stories of his time with Cazador that you could feel the ache to end his pathetic life deep in your bones. You knew Astarion had far more claim to the act than you did, but that didn't stop you from craving it.

It didn't help that there was a part of you that wanted to beg Astarion just to stay at camp. You would take the party and destroy Cazador without him being able to even look at your darling again, let alone hurt him.

But you also knew that wasn't what Astarion wanted or needed. He had to be there, he had to be the one to kill Cazador. Besides, ever since Raphael had told you the nature of the ritual, he'd been obsessed with the idea of stealing that power from him.

You didn't care for that aspect of things. It was a delicate subject and you knew how fragile Astarion was when it came to Cazador. You had to tread lightly every time the subject had come up.

As you stood there in front of the door to the ritual chamber, everything was coming to a head. The uncertainty of the situation gripped your heart, you had no idea what world you would be walking back into once you stepped through those doors.

Over the months you'd been together, you had gotten better at reading Astarion's body language and expressions. He was still difficult to pin down at times and, when he really didn't want to be read, it was like staring at a blank wall.

Now was one of those times. He was stiff as a board, staring at the door ahead of you all. His jaw was locked and his fists clenched so tight at his sides you could see them starting to tremble.

"We'll follow your lead." Your voice was gentle, as you covered one of his fists with both of your hands. "I'm here, I won't let him have you no matter what. We're going to destroy him."

He drew in a shaky breath, his hands stilling in your hold. "Make him suffer." Without another sound he forced the large doors open, drawing the attention of everyone gathered at this Black Mass.

After a moment of stillness that settled in the enormous chamber, Astarion began to move down the stairs. He held his shoulders squared as you followed directly behind, the rest of your party in tow.

"Can it be?" You'd never heard Cazador's voice before. You didn't expect such a slimy, petulant tone but, then again, it was so fitting for such a repulsive man. "Has our prodigal son truly returned to us?"

You watched with building pride as your love held his ground. As he spoke out of turn and insulted the man who had ruined his life. He deserved it, and you did your best to be an imposing figure behind him, though you suspected Halsin was doing a better job of it.

It wasn't until he threw a punch that you realized how dangerous this endeavor truly was. You saw how easily Cazador controlled his body, despite the parasite granting him some level of autonomy. It clearly wasn't enough as you'd hoped.

He was ripped away from you, thrown helplessly into this ritual. A countdown started, you only had a matter of moments before he would complete this ritual. You had to move. So why were your feet locked to the floor?

You stood there, staring in horror at Astarion, locked into this ritual, desperately watching you. Your mind flashed with images of him being destroyed right in front of you. The idea of losing him again, especially now that you were closer than you ever could've dreamed, it paralyzed you.

You felt someone push you forward, you heard Gale's voice. "Move!" He sent a bolt of lightning straight past you, directly into the chest of one of the creatures that fought to defend Cazador.

It was all you needed. Your mind snapped back to the present, a fire burning in your eyes as you and your party waged a bloody battle against the vampire lord. Someone had managed to pull Astarion out of the ritual, buying more time for you all to kill the monsters and bats that defended Cazador from your attacks.

You heard it before you saw it, a choked out sound as Astarion ran a blade through that vile man's chest. You watched him discorporate as he was pulled back to his coffin to regenerate.

Now that he was gone, you made quick work of the remaining threats, until the room was nearly silent. You could hear Astarion's footsteps splashing through all the blood that was spilled as he sprinted towards the coffin.

No one was doing well. It was a vicious, bloody battle that you narrowly managed to win. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Shadowheart pouring healing magic into a half dead Karlach. Gale had immediately collapsed against the nearest wall, clutching at a wound in his side. Halsin was the only one doing even remotely well and that was only because he could turn into a bear over and over. You knew this fight had wiped him of all his wild shapes, though, and he still was battered and bruised.

Astarion wasn't faring any better, but he didn't seem to care. He shoved the lid of the sarcophagus open, ripping Cazador out and throwing him to the ground. You saw a fury, a bloodlust in his eyes that you'd never seen before. It was terrifying really. He clutched the ritual dagger in his hand as he stalked towards the now pitiful looking vampire.

You didn't know what to do, honestly. You didn't know what Astarion was going to do. You watched as he threatened the man before him, as he taunted him with the idea of taking his place in the ritual.

It didn't feel great, but you felt a spark of hope in your chest when Cazador explained that the ritual would just destroy him if he tried to replace him. Maybe this would convince him he couldn't ascend.

That hope was dashed as he turned to you. "I need your help. I can use the parasite to look through your eyes, copy my scars onto him. I'll complete the ritual, then I can protect you." His eyes looked so gentle and hopeful. It was so sweet compared to what he was asking of you.

"Astarion…"

"Please. I know you think it's a bad idea but I need you to trust me. I'll be free. Powerful. Strong enough to protect you. To protect myself." He looked so desperate. "If I do this I won't ever, ever have to leave your side again. No one would be able to separate us again."

It was so rare that one could recognize a life-changing moment from within it, let alone have time to prepare. And here you were in that exact position, no more prepared than the moment you first learned what was to come. You had to respond to him and you still didn't know what you were going to do. "I… can't…"

You could see the heartbreak in his eyes as he stepped closer to you, still keeping his blade pointed towards Cazador. "My love… this is the only chance we'll ever get at this. Help me with this, we can be free forever. Together."

"Astarion, this isn't you."

"No." He hissed, his eyes darkening. "This isn't what you want me to be. You still want me to be the old Astarion. The best friend Astarion. Awkward little pathetic weakling Astarion. That Astarion is gone don't you fucking get that, after all this?"

He was so angry, you were so scared.

"I don't want old Astarion. He's not you, I know that. I'm sorry if I ever make you feel like that's who you have to be." You stepped a bit closer, reaching a hand out, tentatively. "I buried him 200 years ago, he's gone.

"But there's a new Astarion. Right in front of you. Whatever happens now, you're not going to walk out of here the same. I- I'm going to leave this room, hand in hand with a brand new Astarion. You have to choose right now who he's going to be." Your eyes filled with tears as you spoke. You'd made your decision. It didn't matter that you could feel the others hanging on your words with varying levels of disapproval.

Your voice was so soft, nearly getting lost in the vast, open chamber. "I love you, Star. I trust you. Whatever you need, I just want you to be someone you're proud of."

You watched his face flood with emotions that you couldn't begin to keep up with. Truly, you couldn't imagine what he must be feeling but you imagined it felt a lot like drowning. The hand that held the dagger trembled. His eyes flicked between it, you, and the cowering worm at his feet.

He was so obviously torn, split between a decision that would change him forever. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest, you hoped against hope he would make the right choice.

For a moment, as his face hardened, you feared he was about to choose this ascension. To destroy seven thousand souls and marr his own beyond repair. Then he turned, gripping Cazador by the hair as he rammed the blade into his chest.

Over and over and over, you watched as Astarion eviscerated his tormentor, coating his hands in Cazador's vile blood. Your heart broke, hearing the way he screamed. Two centuries of anguish ripping it's way out of his lungs and it wasn't enough.

He stopped gutting the man long after he had stilled underneath him, finally sitting back on his heels. The air was still and heavy, broken only by an agonized sob that struck you straight to the core.

In an instant, you were at his side, kneeling into the pool of blood that surrounded him. You weren't sure what to do, exactly. If you should try to comfort him or just let him get it out. You reached a hand out, ever so tenderly touching his shoulder, just enough to let him know you were there.

He didn't even look at you, he just collapsed into you. He clung desperately to your shirt as sobs wracked his body. Every emotion that had his heart clutched in their grasp bubbling to the surface and spilling over. It broke your heart to hear him cry like this, even if you knew the core of it was finally, finally relief.

After a minute or so of weeping into your arms, he pushed himself back. He swiped at the tears that stained his face, only succeeding in smearing blood everywhere. "Gods… you've got to stop letting me do that."

"I won't." You reached out to try to clean some of the blood from his face. You all needed a good bath.

~*~*~

The camp was quieter than normal. The battle has taken its toll on all of you. Everyone was dead asleep as far as you could tell. Save for you and your darling.

You were curled up together in your tent, he was practically laying on top of you, with a leg tossed over yours and an arm wrapped tight around you. His head rested comfortably against your chest as you ran your fingers lazily through his hair.

It was so soft and wonderful. You had been so afraid of what today would bring but you couldn't have wished for a better ending. Your mind wouldn't still, though. Replaying the battle, the choices you made, the choices he made.

"Your heart is racing, love." Astarion's voice shocked you out of your thoughts, pulling you into the quiet present.

"Mm… I just keep thinking about today." You kept your voice so soft, as though you could shatter the moment if you spoke too loud. "Do you think freeing all of the spawn was the right choice?"

"I do." That was shocking, actually. He sounded so confident, especially after being the one to initially raise the valid concern of how dangerous they could be.

"You're the one who made it." He continued. "Do I sometimes think you're too liberal with who you help and why? Sure. But… you've kept all of us safe. And we have so many allies that I would've never made on my own. Because you're so painfully nice. I trust your choices."

That was so much more reassuring than you'd expected. You didn't really know what to say. "Well… thank you." You absentmindedly twirled one of his curls between your fingers.

"That's not really what you want to talk about, is it?"

Of course you wanted to talk about the decision he made. You weren't exactly sure what you wanted to say and you hadn't planned on bringing it up but it was nearly all you could think about. "Only if you want to talk about it."

"I think we ought to." He didn't sound thrilled about the idea but it was kind of a big deal.

You hummed softly in response as the quiet night settled between you again. Neither of you were exactly sure what could even be said.

"Thank you." He whispered, finally, after a few moments of silence. "For… believing… in me. I don't deserve you."

"You deserve the world, Star."

"Maybe. I don't need it though." He sighed softly, his fingers tightening their hold on your shirt. "I was angry with you, at first, you know? I wanted you to say yes. I wanted you to support me with your whole heart. I needed that power so badly, and you wouldn't tell me that was okay. I was furious.

"But, and you do have to bear with me because it's horribly cheesy, but I walked outside with you. I was free, we were together and I just- ugh.” He sighed. “I really did realize that I didn’t need it.”

You dropped a kiss to the top of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair as you pulled back. “That was cheesy, you’re right.” You couldn’t help laughing as he let go of your shirt just long enough to flash quite the rude hand gesture in your direction.

“I mean it, you bastard.” The irritation in his voice was laced with so much fondness your heart ached. “Just because I’m mysterious and unknowable doesn’t mean I’m not capable of genuine moments.”

“You wish you were unknowable.”

“You’re making it so difficult to love you right now, you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You laughed softly. “I’m done, I promise. I really am so- so proud of you, you know?” Your other hand came up to cover his, gently running your thumb over his knuckles as you spoke. “I would’ve followed you no matter what but… I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t hoped you’d choose this.”

He smiled softly, closing his eyes and just listening to your heart beating in your chest. Every nightmare he’d ever lived through, every night spent in agony, spent wishing for death - it was all over now. He was free, he was here with you, safe and warm and loved. He wouldn’t say it was worth it, there were so many horrors he knew he would never forget. But he was suddenly, perhaps for the first time, so endlessly grateful he had survived it.

Nothing would change the things he had done, nothing would change what had been done to him. He had been irreparably damaged by so much of it but it was finally, finally over. He could start to mend now. And he had you. You didn’t care that he wasn’t the same person you had loved as a child, you loved him now just as he was, broken and all.

“You made me want to be someone worthy of everything you’ve given me. It wasn’t much of a choice, really. I wanted it so badly because I was so… scared.” He gave a soft, breathy laugh. “You made me brave enough to do the right thing, I suppose. You’ve really made a hopeless romantic out of me.”

“Good. I like when you get sappy.” You grinned, giving his hand a squeeze. “Still. Thank you for choosing this.”

“My darling, I simply chose you.”

[baldursgat3]

i have three drafts that are like 90% done and I'm just stuck on the ending this is agonizing

[baldursgat3]

actually someone should hit me with an idea. i long to write ascended astarion. i wanna write something that's gonna fuck me up.