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The Spellthief and the Pale Elf - Chapter 4: A Late Night Bite.

Words: 5008 | Rated: Teen | Tiefling!Female Original Character x Astarion

Synopsis: A long day in pursuit of locating the goblin camp leads to a spontaneous ambush that leaves Astarion somewhat wounded. After sustaining a painful injury in his shoulder, the pale elf seems entirely not like himself, leaving Saphyra once again both concerned and suspicious of his condition. As the two agree to keep watch of the camp overnight, a shocking development is made.

Warnings: Act I! Mentions of blood, swearing, sexual themes.

A/N: I have been waiting to get to this point in my fic series for some time!!! More recently, I have been blessed with more time to write and relax outside of work and school, which I am very thankful for. I plan on doing a bg3 character x reader fic along with two chapters every two weeks. I am starting on a Halsin x reader fic next, so please be on the lookout for that! Thank you also, to all who view and read my fan fics! I truly appreciate it, and I am open to any suggestions as well on my material, so please feel free to leave a comment on what you think!

(p.s: listen to the linked song as you read!)

Also posting on Ao3!

- - -

After a long day’s worth of scouting and cataloging their surroundings, the group has once again found themselves back at their original campsite, near the wreckage of the Illithid vessel that once held them captive. The wayward travelers had covered a great amount of ground, eventually coming across the bridge that led to the established goblin camp they had been searching for. While the scouting group of four were able to pinpoint an exact location, they were unfortunately ambushed by a group of savage gnolls. Thankfully, they managed to best their unsightly foes, however, not without sustaining a few injuries. Astarion, in particular, suffered some gruesome blows—one to the face, as well as the shoulder. An iron bolt pierced straight through the flesh, and for a moment, his traveling companions were quite convinced it was a fatal wound. If it weren’t for Shadowheart's presence during the expedition, who knows if he would’ve pulled through.

Dusk began to blanket the sky, accompanied by the low hum of insects and quiet chirps of nearby forest life. The stars were slowly beginning to emerge and in the distance, the clouds above swirled into hues of crimson and violet.

As the group approaches the entrance of the campsite, they are greeted with one of the most enticing aromas imagined.

While the group enters, Gale, who was previously preoccupied with adding the finishing garnishes to the meal, lifts his head before a mixture of relief and eagerness surfaces on his face.

“Excellent timing!” he exclaims, before picking up a nearby linen cloth and cleaning off his hands. Stirred by the nearby commotion, Karlach approaches the group from the other side of the camp, followed by Wyll, who was immersed in a book of poetry he more recently acquired.

“You all finally made it back!” Karlach shouts with a toothy grin, before taking a seat on one of the long logs placed horizontally in the soil.

“We were gettin’ worried we would have to send a search party out for the lot of you,” she explains.

While the others briefly retreat to their tents, Saphyra lets out a deep sigh as she drops her quarterstaff down onto the ground, before joining Karlach on the log.

“We were ambushed, unfortunately.” she begins, as she tediously unties her tall, laced boots, before yanking them off.

“A group of gnolls had us cornered for some time, but we still managed to find the bridge leading to the goblin camp,” she explains, right before removing her satchel from around her person and reaching in for a black, leather-bound journal, followed by a piece of graphite.

Wyll sits across from them, perking up once the goblin camp is mentioned.

“That’s tremendous news! I’m sure you’ve managed to plot where the location is exactly for our journey tomorrow?” he begins to inquire before Saphyra swiftly addresses his question.

“Adding it to the map as we speak,” she replies, curtly, as she unfolds a rather sizeable piece of parchment that contained the map she began to sketch of the area so far.

Soon after, Lae’zel and Shadowheart slowly join them around the campfire, finding seats amongst the boulders scattered around the fire. Gale returns to the circle, arms filled with wooden bowls and utensils before placing them off to the side. Using the linen cloth to uncover the large, black cauldron in the center of the fire, Gale picks up the ladle resting in between one of the handles before gathering a full scoop of the stew brewing inside.

“Well, I hope you’ve all drawn up an appetite from your tiresome expedition, because I, fortunately, had the ingredients to make Chelo Khoresh this evening!” Gale declares, before picking up a bowl and pouring the hearty stew inside. The stew was made up of thick, chopped pieces of lamb, onion, and potatoes. It smelled strongly of savory garlic and turmeric and would pour beautifully upon a generous helping of saffron rice, if they had any. He then reaches down alongside the cauldron for a piece of sourdough bread, which he had previously cut and placed on a wooden platter. Adding the slice of bread to the bowl, he then hands it over to Lae’zel, who upon receiving the bowl, turns up her nose in disgust.

“Tsk’va…the cuisine of this plane leaves much to be desired,” she mutters to herself before passing it over to Wyll.

Shadowheart watches her with an irritated expression before receiving a bowl from Gale.

“So this is what you got up and started cooking this morning, I presume?” she inquires, rather impressed by how the dish came out.

As Gale begins to describe the long and tedious process required for the dish, soft footsteps tread towards the campfire, belonging to none other than Astarion. Not looking up from her sketch, Saphyra jumps a bit from hearing someone take a seat right beside her. Finishing up her work on the map, she glances over toward her right to get a look at the pale elf, who seemed to be in a worse condition than she previously thought.

With his knees tightly pulled into his chest, Astarion dejectedly fixed his gaze towards the campfire. The tourniquet, that was used on him earlier by Shadowheart, was fixed tightly around his shoulder, soaked with dark, dried blood. His scarlet eyes seemed to burn brighter than they normally appeared, almost as if they were glowing in a vermillion hue. His curly hair, typically more well-kempt and shiny, appeared to be more dull and frizzy. Not to mention, as he is often characterized for being ‘pale’, he seemed even more washed out than usual. Almost ghoulish. The dark circles under his eyes seemed even more pronounced, and underneath one, he happened to possess a deep bruise, made up of purple and green hues. As he rested his head in between his knees, with his arms folded and covering his mouth, Saphyra watched as he seemed to shake ever so slightly.

Was he…trembling?

Even more concerning, was how undeviating his gaze was. Turning her head to follow where he was staring, she blinked as she realized that he seemed to be looking at Lae’zel, who was busy cracking her neck from side to side.

Before passing a bowl of food to Saphyra, Karlach nudges her to get her attention, only startling Saphyra once more. Saphyra blinks as she turns around, before placing the parchment, her journal, and graphite back into her satchel. She takes the bowl from Karlach, before Karlach gestures to her to move in a bit closer, for her to whisper something to her.

“Hey…what’s goin’ on with Ears?” she inquires, before looking past her at Astarion.

Taking one more glance over at him before turning back to Karlach, Saphyra softly whispers back, “He got injured earlier…a bolt to the shoulder.”

Granted, he was uncharacteristically quiet, but while his behavior was concerning, it wasn’t surprising to Saphyra. In fact, she was beginning to suspect that he was struggling more and more to maintain his façade. She recalls a day or so ago when the group came across a decaying boar that had been completely exsanguinated, only possessing two deep puncture wounds within its flesh. She can remember how Astarion reacted when she had asked if he had come across something like this in the past. As he began to prevaricate and dance around her inquiries, she finally had the confirmation needed to solidify her theory.

Saphyra narrows her eyes as she begins to stare at him once more, before offering him her bowl.

“Here. You seem hungry,” she states plainly, as she holds out the steaming dish.

Astarion’s eyes flick back towards the bowl, and then to her, before shifting his position and releasing his legs out in front of him. He then takes the bowl into his hands, before staring down into it. As if his stomach churns, he quickly covers his mouth and nose before placing it down beside him.

Immediately, Astarion stands to his feet, before turning to walk back to his tent.

“...I think I’m going to retire early,” he says in a low voice, with his back still turned towards the rest of the group.

Shadowheart, wondering if she is going to have to use healing magic on him once again, starts to place down her bowl.

With a look of concern growing on his face, Gale places his bowl down beside him as well.

“Would you like for us to wrap your food for you?-” he begins to inquire before Saphyra immediately interrupts him.

“We’re to keep watch of the campsite later on…should someone else take your place?” she asks, anxiously hoping that he will respond with a ‘yes’.

However, to her dismay, Astarion turns around swiftly before giving his response.

“No- I should be fine to keep watch with you…I’ll just be resting for the next hour or so.” he elaborates, before turning around once again to make his way back to his tent.

As the rest of the group finishes their meal, Gale walks over to wear Saphyra sits to wrap Astarion’s bowl with a linen cloth.

“I do hope that he begins to feel a bit better…poor Astarion seemed rather sickly, don’t you think?” he asks, looking over towards Saphyra.

Saphyra, however, seemed mentally preoccupied as she started to grow exceedingly uneasy, wondering how this night watch would unfold.

- - -

A prominent hush had befallen the camp as nightfall came into full effect. Despite the chirp of a cicada here, and the crackle of the fire there, nothing seemed to stir within the night. The skies now appeared as black as obsidian, housing a large, full moon and distant glints of stars that produced gentle light. More than an hour had passed, and yet, there was still no sign of the pale elf. As time crept on, Saphyra grew more and more disquieted. Her tail swished and swayed in the soil as she sat perched on top of one of the logs in front of the campfire. She even found herself picking at the frayed thread from the long sleeve of her slate-colored chemise. As her mismatched eyes indolently studied the dancing flames, they would ever-so-slightly shutter close before immediately widening once again. The tiefling was struggling to fight sleep, however, she couldn’t afford to doze off while she waited. Peering over her shoulder, Saphyra looked back toward Astarion’s tent, which seemed to have an active lantern burning inside, due to the illumination of what she could only assume was his silhouette. Feeling some sense of relief, she turns towards the fire once more before positioning her elbows onto her lap and placing her chin into her hands. As she supports her head with her hands, her eyes begin to shut close once more before her shoulders drop and she begins to slip into slumber.

Shortly after, Saphyra feels an abrupt and cold grasp upon her shoulder, causing her to immediately jolt awake. Her eyes flicker towards her left shoulder, only to find a pallid hand resting on top. Quickly craning her neck upwards, she makes eye contact with none other than Astarion.

“My apologies, did I startle you?” he inquires with a small smile, before walking over to and sitting down on the log directly across from her, on the other side of the fire.

Saphyra blinks, before folding her arms towards her chest. She was beginning to feel the cold of the night, mainly because her chemise didn’t quite reach past her knees.

“...I must’ve dozed off while I waited for you,” she explains, before rubbing her eyes and yawning a bit.

“Ah, I see,” he replies, silently studying her from across the fire. His eyes still seemed to burn bright vermillion, and despite “resting” for the past hour or so, he still seemed to look as languid as before.

“Truth be told, I did not expect you to stay up waiting for me…However, now that I’m finally here, it’s more than alright for you to finally get some rest. I’ll take over keeping watch.” he states, donning his faux “smile” once more.

Saphyra narrows her eyes. There was no way that she planned on falling asleep with him watching her like prey.

“It’s quite alright…I assure you, I’m fine to continue keeping watch.” she rebuttals, fighting the urge to let out yet another yawn.

Cocking his head to the side as he feigns concern, Astarion’s brows knit together.

“It’s just that…you seem so tired, Saphyra.” he asserts, with a patronizing tone.

“Take your rest. I insist,” he affirms his stance once more with a smile, which seemed even more eerie this time around.

The two sit in a brief silence, non-verbally engaged in a stand-off. It isn’t until Saphyra reaches to her side for her bedroll that she manages to break eye contact with him.

“I suppose you're right,” she states, before unfastening the tie around the fabric. She then gets up to unroll it beside the log and spread out her grey, woolen blanket on top. As she climbs under the cover, her eyes fall onto her quarterstaff, before pulling underneath the fabric along with her.

Perhaps she would make use of the staked end after all.

“Goodnight,” she says aloud, tightening her grip around the staff, with her back facing Astarion.

“Sweet dreams, Saphyra,” Astarion replies, in a honeyed tone.

As she shuts her eyes, it surprisingly takes very little time for her to fall asleep, however, it is truly a feat to stay asleep. Between the movement of the tadpole, unpleasant memories, and unsolicited nightmares, Saphyra tossed and turned. However, perhaps it was for the best that she did not stay asleep.

Hushed footsteps approached Saphyra’s bedroll as she slumbered before the figure took a knee before her bedside. He made sure to articulate every movement carefully, quietly hovering above Saphyra before attempting to make a way toward her neck.

And yet, his carefulness wasn’t enough.

As her breath suddenly hitches in her sleep, Saphyra begins to stir before cracking open her eyes to make direct eye contact with Astarion, who was kneeling above her with his mouth agape, as his ivory fangs protruded out.

“...what…the fuck?” she asks, voice still groggy from her unfinished rest.

Caught in the act, Astarion begins to slowly back away before attempting to rise to his feet.

“Shit-” he says as his alarmed expression intensifies.

“Saphyra, it’s not what it looks like, I swear.” he begins to explain.

Saphyra rubs her eyes, silently confirming that this was reality and not a dream. Soon after making the realization, she grabs for her quarterstaff once more, scrambling out of her covers and jumping up onto her feet. She then points the staked end of her staff out towards Astarion, and surprisingly, a wild and toothy grin appears on her face.

“I knew…I fucking knew it!” she exclaims, only for Astarion to immediately begin fervently shushing her.

Her suspicions were correct. He was, in fact, a vampire!

“Please!- Please lower your voice.” he chastens her, only prompting Saphyra’s grip to tighten on her staff.

“Why should I lower my voice? You were just standing over my bedroll with your fangs bared, trying to take a bite out of me!” she exclaims once more, ignoring Astarion’s plea.

Panicked by her growing volume, Astarion attempts to throw his hands up, causing Saphyra to move in closer with the wooden staff pointed directly to his chest. Looking down at the pointed end of the staff, Astarion’s gaze shifts upward once more before he decides to beg once more for her cooperation.

“Saph, please, we can discuss this more rationally-” he begins before her expression shifts into astonishment.

“Saph? Are we fucking best of pals now?!-” she inquires with eyes widened, before getting hushed once more. Rolling her eyes, Saphyra decides to follow through with his request, now beginning to confront him in a quieter tone.

“I knew it was you who was behind all of the animals we had been coming across, completely drained of their blood-” she begins to state before Astarion extends his finger out, pointing directly at her.

“HA- So you’ve been aware of my nature for some time now, haven’t you?” he accuses her before his expression becomes more somber.

“...Did he send you to retrieve me? Are you working for Cazador?” he begins to interrogate her, earning a bewildered expression from Saphyra.

Saphyra begins to lower her weapon.

“Who the fuck is Cazador?” she questions him back, only confusing Astarion even more.

As it turns out, she wasn’t hired to capture him.

However, it suddenly dawned on Saphyra what Astarion’s true motives were. Gasping before starting to chuckle in disbelief, Saphyra slowly begins to raise her staff once more.

“You were going to kill me in my sleep, weren’t you?” she asks, completely taken aback by the whole scenario altogether.

“Make it look like an accident…because you thought I was hired to capture you?” she continues with her onslaught of questions, as Astarion’s desperation builds.

“Hold on-” he starts, attempting to counter. Sighing a bit, he shrugs his shoulders, before resorting to his next attempt to placate her.

“Surely it seems we’ve both been very suspicious of one another…But, you can trust me, Saphyra.” he begins to explain, causing Saphyra to scoff immediately at the notion. Astarion relaxes a bit, trying to disarm Saphyra with his body language.

“I mean it. You yourself witnessed me get injured earlier today…If I just had a little blood, I could heal myself…fight better… think clearer…please.” he pleaded with her once more.

Saphyra rolls her eyes again, before slowly putting her staff down towards her side.

“Astarion, you just tried to murder me in my sleep. How could I possibly trust you?” she responds, causing a pondering expression to surface on Astarion’s face.

Shutting his eyes, both he and Saphyra suddenly shudder in unison as he attempts to establish a neural link, using the power of the tadpoles. Reluctantly, Saphyra gives in before abruptly being submerged in a myriad of different images and sensations. She recognizes the streets of Baldur’s Gate, at night, however, saw it all through his eyes. As she witnesses Astarion’s lived experiences, she can simultaneously feel herself being compelled by a darker, hidden force to consume the blood of not humans, but animals. Forced to feed from squirming rats, or fleeing deer. She felt the hunger that enslaved him, consumed him, and practically called to him to commit these acts.

The link was then suddenly severed, leaving Saphyra with a throbbing mess of a headache, as she clenched the side of her head. Silently making eye contact once more, the young tiefling happened to find herself actually hosting some empathy for him.

Saphyra then exhaled a deep sigh as she shut her eyes once more, shaking her head at the decision she was about to make.

She had a dreadful feeling that she was going to absolutely regret this.

“...Fine.” she surrenders suddenly, causing Astarion’s expression to shift into shock.

Blinking a bit, a brow quirks upward as Astarion tries to make sure that she truly means what she says.

“You’ll…let me feed from you?”

Nodding as she confirms his question, Saphyra meets his gaze before her facial expression turns solemn once more.

“You can feed from me, but if you take so much as one drop more than I allow you to have, I will drive this stake through your heart,” she states firmly, as her grip tightens around the wooden staff.

Astarion gulps, then nods, taken aback by her forwardness. However, if Saphyra was being honest, she did have a minor curiosity about what it felt like to be bitten by a vampire. Would it be an ecstatic feeling? Pleasurable? Or would it feel agonizing, or life-draining?

“Very well…I’ll be gentle as a babe,” he says with a small smirk, before gesturing towards the bedroll below the two of them.

“Well, let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?” he asks playfully as both he and Saphyra kneel to their knees. Before getting close to her, Astarion begins to roll the long sleeves of his shirt.

Saphyra then reclines back on the bedroll, before clamping her eyes shut.

“Please just get it over with,” she mutters to herself.

Astarion, however, was slightly at a loss. He truly had never had the pleasure of feeding from a humanoid being before. As he kneeled above her, he tried to angle himself in a way where he had the best access to her neck, and yet, nothing seemed to be promising. As he awkwardly attempted to situate himself in a way that would be comfortable for them both, his efforts were interrupted by Saphyra’s inpatient questioning.

“What in the hells is taking so long?” she inquires, creaking one eye open to peer up at him.

“Erm, darling- do you mind if I…” his voice trails off, only for Saphyra to immediately provide him with an answer.

“Please just do whatever makes this process go quicker,” she states, clamping her eyes shut tightly in frustration.

Upon giving permission, Astarion then proceeds to climb on top of her, straddling his legs against the outside of her thighs. He then plants his hands firmly on the ground before lowering his lips to her neck. This causes Saphyra’s eyes to shoot open as a dark-tinted blush settles in across her cheeks.

“Astarion!-” she begins to exclaim, before suddenly, Astarion’s fangs pierce the soft flesh of her neck.

Saphyra gasps from the impact. It’s as if two shards of glass broke the skin, burrowing deep into her. Her eyes clamped shut once more as she writhes and wiggles underneath him from the pain. For Astarion, however, it was as if he was drinking honeyed mead straight from the tap. A soothing salve, coaxing the intense burn that had been building up in his throat from the iniquitous thirst. The taste was intoxicating, instantly sending him into a frenzy. It simply could not compare to the blood of a deer, a bear, or even a kobold. It was electrifying, and gratifying. Tightly shutting his eyes, Astarion burrows deeper into the crevice of her neck, not even realizing when he releases a deep and guttural moan.

Upon hearing this, a ripple shoots down throughout Saphyra’s core. As he continued to drink from her, she began to feel the throb of her heartbeat as the pace sped up. Shifting one hand from supporting his body weight, Astarion begins to cradle her head as he further siphons her life force. Saphyra could practically feel herself slipping away as her fingertips went from hot, to cold, then completely numb.

He’s getting too carried away…

She thought to herself as he continued to suck from her neck.

“Astarion…” she whispered, barely managing to form the words with her lips, and yet, her warning fell on deaf ears.

Starting now to internally panic, Saphyra attempted to use her remaining strength to reach her right hand out to Astarion’s arm, which was closest to her head. Once she finally was able to make contact with his skin, she rested the palm of her hand on top of his, using the remainder of her energy to silently cast burning hands. Saphyra’s palm slowly began to burn warm, before reaching scorching temperatures.

Jumping from the contact of Saphyra’s searing touch, Astarion hastily pulls away from her, yelping as he sits upright while shaking his hand. Upon doing so, Saphyra watches through hazy vision as the heat boils that surfaced on the skin of his hand slowly begin to fade away.

As he began to regenerate from the sudden burn injury he sustained, Astarion then turns his attention back to Saphyra, who was attempting to raise herself. As she tried to lift herself, she immediately falls backward once more, feeling entirely lightheaded from being just about drained to death.

“Careful now-” Astarion cautions, before helping her carefully lay her head back down.

“My apologies, I think I may have gotten…swept up in the moment,” he says with a light chuckle.

Saphyra peers up at him, realizing that the bruise he previously housed underneath his eye has completely vanished! Not to mention, the shine had returned to his curly, silver hair. His eyes had gone from their previous vermillion hue to now a ruddy, crimson color. She had also realized that the bottom half of his face was practically covered with her blood, which ran down past his chin and seemed to drip down his neck.

“...so messy…” Saphyra teases, however, her words are barely heard, due to how weak she currently feels.

Astarion blinks, realizing that he did have blood smeared all over his face.

Chuckling a bit, he replies, “I suppose so.”

As the campfire’s light illuminated his face, Saphyra took a moment to fully take in his features. Despite having specks of blood scattered here and there, she found her eyes tracing over the different lines and creases on his face. She intently studied the curvature of his cupid’s bow, and the round shape of his mesmerizing eyes as they both silently maintained eye contact. A deep flush settled into her onyx-toned skin, once more, causing Astarion to look down at her in confusion. Trying to understand what could possibly have her this flushed, he then realized.

Is she…attracted to me?

He quietly thought to himself.

Another idea came over him. This was something he could definitely use to his advantage. As he stared down at her, a drop of blood from his face fell onto Saphyra’s freckled cheek.

Upon realizing what happened, Astarion takes his thumb and softly drags it across her cheek before taking the pad of his thumb into his mouth, all while staring deeply into her eyes.

“Apologies, my dear. Wouldn’t want to waste a drop,” he states, followed by a sly smirk.

Astarion then sits up, before slowly helping Saphyra do the same. His eyes quickly scan the area before finding a nearby linen cloth. As he wipes his face clean of Saphyra’s blood, he attempts to dab out the fallen drops from his white, frill-collared shirt, before realizing that it wouldn’t really do much. He then folds the cloth before suddenly pressing it against the bite wound he left on Saphyra’s neck. Softly taking her hand into his, he then places it firmly against the cloth.

“Hold this here.” he asserts, right before Saphyra nods in understanding.

The feeding left her feeling entirely weak, trembling from the loss of the blood. While maintaining pressure on her neck, Saphyra turns and digs into her nearby satchel to search for the pear she placed into her bag earlier in the day. Upon locating the pear, she takes it out before brushing it off onto the fabric of her chemise. She then cautiously takes a bite. The movement alone seemed to cause her discomfort, due to her bite wound. As she began to further eat the pear, her eyes glance back towards Astarion, who was in the process of removing his shirt, for him to attempt to work at the deep red stains with a cloth and water. Saphyra found herself her gaze unrelenting as her eyes perused the musculature of his body. He wasn’t very gaunt, as she assumed he would be, but he also wasn’t very stocky in form. At the same time, he still had very defined muscles, and interestingly enough, Saphyra realized that the wound he suffered from was completely gone, showing no sign of even occurring in the first place. Recognizing now that she was practically gawking at him, Saphyra then clears her throat, before taking another bite of the pear.

“So…” she begins, attempting to clear the presumed awkwardness in the air.

“...What did I taste like?” she provocatively inquires, as a smirk begins to grow on her face.

Breaking himself away from what he was doing, Astarion looks up at her, rather intrigued by the question. He chuckles a bit in response before he decides to entertain the thought.

“Darling, you were exquisite,” he begins before he begins to ponder a bit more on how to respond.

“If I were to describe how you taste…” he taps his finger to his chin in thought as he thinks best of how to describe the taste of her blood.

“You tasted of black currants and cherries…very rich in flavor, yet heady and decadent…almost like a lilac wine…or perhaps a-” Astarion continues his passionate stream of thought before Saphyra suddenly interrupts.

“Astarion…are you comparing me to a rare vintage?” she looks at him in disbelief, causing Astarion to break out in laughter.

“Not at all, my dear- In fact, you tasted even better,” he states with a wolfish grin, before suddenly rising to his feet.

“Alas…while you were positively invigorating, I need something more…filling,” he explains, scooping up his shirt, before turning to walk away.

Saphyra blinks, feeling a twinge of loneliness tug at her heart as Astarion begins to walk away. However, he soon pauses, turning his head to partially look back towards her.

“Saphyra… This is a gift, you know…I won’t forget it.” he states earnestly before he turns and continues to walk towards the forest.

Saphyra snickered a bit to herself as she watched him walk into the distance.

The pale elf had a new swagger to his step, a developing confidence. He no longer was forced to feed from lowly animals by his cruel creator. Now he had experienced something completely foreign to him. The one person who knew his true nature, who he had presumed to be an adversary in the beginning, had turned out to be a newly discovered ally. And with that being said, he truly wondered how far he would have to go to gain her complete trust. Perhaps the opportunity would present itself again soon enough to establish more kinship between them both.

However, all that Astarion presently cared about was a persistent hunt before his companions awoke to make their way to the goblin camp.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion x oc #original character #fan fiction #fan fic #jay writes #my writing #romance #slow burn #saphyra zarashi #the spellthief & the pale elf

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heyitsjaysblog · 11 months ago

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The Spellthief and the Pale Elf - Chapter 3: A Misunderstanding.

Words: 3573 | Rated: Teen | Tiefling!Female Original Character x Astarion

Synopsis: The group of travelers have arrived within the Emerald Grove, and are faced with the civic disputes of a group of tiefling asylum-seekers, and the druid inhabitants of the grove. Zevlor approaches Saphyra for help in bringing back the archdruid of the grove, which she reluctantly accepts. This causes a rift between her and Astarion.

Warnings: Act I! Swearing, some zesty angst, and mentions of death.

A/N: I deadass could not wait to add to this series!!! I have missed writing Saph so badly. I wanted this to be like a filler/background installment of the series so that you learn more about my OC, and a little bit more about her overall alignment.

Let me know what y’all think!

Also posting on Ao3!

- - -

With balmy, inviting air and trees of viridian green blanketing the druidic settlement, all would seem to be well, and yet, all was not.

In fact, the environment could not further juxtapose the unrest that seemed to liven the once quaint colony. The group more recently exited the Emerald Grove’s sacred space after meeting and confronting the interim Archdruid, Kagha. After meeting with Kagha to plead for her to pardon the young tiefling girl who attempted to steal the Idol of Silvanus, the group was rather put off by Kagha’s request to convince the tieflings to leave the Grove. Gale seemed to favor assisting the tiefling refugees with their dire need of protection as they traversed the dangerous roads of Western Faerûn, while Lae’zel was more determined to locate the nearby Githyanki crèche. All the while, Astarion seemed more focused on exiting the Grove altogether. The heated disputes with the druids, desperate pleas from the tieflings, and even the constant movement from the Illithid tadpole were all contributing to the manifestation of a prominent headache.

Producing a heavy sigh as he begins to rub his temples, Astarion breaks the silence in the group as they navigate back, past the circle of chanting druids.

“Well…that was certainly…dramatic.” he begins, before shifting his gaze to Saphyra, who has been disturbingly quiet.

“Now that we’ve saved the little tiefling girl from becoming a viper’s meal, surely we can leave now?” he inquires, only to be met with even more silence. Over the past few days, the two have seemed to develop a mercurial relationship, going between distrust and intrigue, but this seemed somewhat new.

Granted, Saphyra isn’t entirely a woman of many words, however, her overall demeanor seems to have shifted ever since they were first requested to speak to Kagha. She wore a conflicted expression, as her eyes glanced over some of the interactions taking place within the Grove. She silently watched as Arabella was once again reunited with her parents, which caused an uncomfortable pang to surface in her chest. From listening to how the druids spoke about the refugees, to watching how they spoke down to the small tiefling children, Saphyra began to feel a prominent sense of discomfort. Even when she initially saw Arabella, her heart seemed to ache at how much she reminded her of her younger self.

Saphyra began to dig her pointed nails into the soft flesh of her hands, grounding herself as she mentally returned to her surroundings. Having processed what Astarion said at a delayed rate, she finally replies with a simple ‘Yes’ as the group makes their way further from the heart of the Enclave. However, the group is once again halted as someone calls out to Saphyra from behind.

“Wait, Saphyra!-” a frantic voice yells out, causing them all to turn towards the source. Saphyra blinks as she realizes the voice belongs to that of Zevlor, the makeshift leader of the group of tieflings. He quickens his pace as he runs up to the group before he meets with them all in front of a large, stone carving of the Forest Father, Silvanus.

“I’m glad I caught you in time.” the tiefling greets her with a toothy smile, before resting his hands on his hips. His expression shifts into a solemn one.

“Tell me…what did she say?” he asks, to which prompts Saphyra to deeply sigh.

Gods…she didn’t want to be involved in this. She never gets involved in things like this. She didn’t choose to spend most of her life killing for hire only to be involved in resolving civic disputes, especially when it would seem to yield little to no reward for her. Attempting to pacify herself from growing vexation, Saphyra begins to rub at the back of her neck before gathering her words for a response.

“...She wants you and the rest of the tieflings out of the Grove, and she wants me to convince you all to do it.” she says firmly, before folding her arms.

Studying her body language, Zevlor nods as his gaze shifts towards the ground.

“...I see.” he says before his eyes meet hers once more.

“And what do you intend to do? Or rather, what do you suggest we do? I may be a former commander, but not all of these young men and women can fight…and we have an abundance of children, and elderly with us.” he states, causing Saphyra to shift a bit where she stands.

He’s absolutely unrelenting….

Saphyra quietly thought to herself, growing more and more frustrated. Her companions watched her in silence, quietly wondering if she was beginning to change her overall stance on helping the tieflings.

“Well, personally, I want to focus on finding a healer, which is what I initially came here to do, but seeing as there is no healer-” Saphyra begins her rebuttal, only for Zevlor to interrupt her thought.

“So you’ll find him? If you find the actual Archdruid of this Grove, he will be even more inclined to aid us with our pursuit to travel safely, and even more inclined to help heal whatever illness you may have…Will you consider helping us by finding him?” he pleads once more, prompting Astarion to roll his eyes and huff before leaning into Saphyra.

“Ugh- Could you please do us all a favor and tell this man that we are not helping him so that we can leave this place once and for all?” he not-so-discreetly whispers to her, only resulting in Saphyra shooting him an irritated glare.

Saphyra tightly clenches her fists once more before shifting her gaze to Zevlor.

After another brief period of silence, Saphyra speaks once more.

“...I’ll help you.” she states plainly before she turns to continue walking towards the entrance of the Grove.

Astarion’s expression alters into shock, followed by his brows knitting closely together in frustration.

“Wait…What?!” he exclaims as the rest of their traveling companions all turn to one another wearing looks of astonishment.

Zevlor’s eyes widen, before his toothy grin surfaces on his face once more.

“Excellent!” he exclaims, perplexed by the sudden change in sentiment. Never mind the abrupt change in plans, he was going to receive actual aid for his people.

As Zevlor turns to retreat to the group of tieflings and make them aware of the good news, Saphyra’s companions all begin to talk amongst themselves, also sharing the shock of her new declaration.

“Kaincha!- We are wasting precious time worrying about the affair of these teethlings while we should be searching for the nearby crèche for purification!” Lae’zel exclaims, right before Gale begins to counter.

“Well...I for one find Saphyra’s change of heart rather admirable.” he begins to speak, prompting Lae’zel to shoot him a fiery glare.

“These poor people have been displaced by the unsavory ramifications of war, and yet they are now being forced out once again while they're at their lowest…Surely at the very least, we can help them find the druid leader?” he suggests, only to be immediately interrupted by Astarion, who had been silently brewing with anger.

“That isn’t our job! We aren’t these people’s saviours, and I surely did not sign up for being a hero to a group of random refugees!” he shouts, with fists clenched, and burning eyes of scarlet. Besides Gale’s bleeding heart, and Lae’zel’s urgency for a cure, Astarion had a very different intention when it came to their quest altogether. While the risk of becoming an Illithid creature was high, this was the first time in a long time that he had felt…free. Perhaps there shouldn’t be so much urgency to eradicate the presence of the evasive species, but perhaps more consideration on how they could potentially harness the powers for themselves.

He surely wasn’t going to let anyone come in between his newfound freedom, especially for a group of people who could very much fend for themselves.

“...I’m going to go talk some sense to her.” he mutters before marching off to follow Saphyra, only for the other two to cautiously follow a distance behind.

Saphyra silently made her way back to the entrance, with fists clenched as well. Her head was thrumming with chaos, from the movement of the tadpole behind her eye to the various demands of people in the Grove. She was tired of being placed in this position of leadership and tired of having to give reason for her motives or going back and forth with her party members about her stance. Static began to generate within the palm of her right hand, dancing in between her knuckles as she unknowingly began to produce magic from her restless thoughts.

As she stormed away, Astarion managed to catch up with her, only to quickly grasp her by her wrist to halt her from going forward.

“Where are you going?!” he shouts, causing her to turn to face him with a bewildered expression. Her mismatched eyes dart down to his tight grasp on her wrist before they shift back upwards to meet his intense glare.

“Why are you suddenly moved by the tiefling’s plea? We don’t have time to be caught up in local affairs, nor do we have to rescue this group when it was never our business to begin with!” he argues, causing the frustration in Saphyra to grow.

The static in her hand intensifies as her anger builds, quickening her heart rate. The air between the two grows silent as Saphyra takes a moment to take a deep breath, before dryly offering a response.

“If you have a problem with my decision, then go back to camp.” she answers solemnly, before turning to leave again. This only angered Astarion more, whose grasp wouldn’t let up.

“What makes you think you can answer for us all? Why should we follow your-” he begins, only further pushing Saphyra to anger as she suddenly interrupts him.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, or anyone else! If you have such a problem with it, then LEAVE.” she shouts, yanking her wrist from his grasp and throwing her hand out to alleviate the built-up of lightning magic within her clutch. A bolt is cast out to the ground beside them, frying the soil towards the right of the two. Onlookers watch with concern, quietly gossiping amongst each other, right before Saphyra turns and continues to storm off within the distance.

Lae’zel and Gale finally catch up to Astarion, only to watch Saphyra continue to march away. While trying to think of something to say, Gale begins to awkwardly rub his beard, only before attempting to break the silence.

“Well…that didn’t seem to go too well-” he cautiously begins to speak, only before Astarion’s interruption.

“How can she be so arrogant like that?! Not to mention, how dare she speak to me that way.” he fumes, causing Lae’zel to roll her eyes. She’s beginning to grow quite tired of the squabbling and feuding within their group, and would rather they all turn their attention to anything else.

Gale sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he ponders on how to de-escalate the situation altogether.

“Well…could it be perhaps that she isn’t upset at you particularly, but potentially something else? She did seem a bit…distant after we handled the situation with the druid Kagha and the young tiefling girl.” he suggests, only for Astarion to shrug the notion off.

Kneading into his temple, Gale sighs once more before firmly gripping his quarterstaff in hand.

“I think I ought to go talk to her and see if she is alright after this…unfortunate spat.” he states before beginning to walk off, only before Astarion protests once more.

“Ugh, please. Let me do it…” the pale elf states, before maneuvering past him.

“You’ll only make things worse with your incessant babbling…” he mumbles to himself, annoyed with the whole ordeal altogether.

Gale blinks, as he watches him walk off with an appalled look surfacing on his face.

“‘Incessant babbling’...?! Surely I don’t ‘babble incessantly’....do I?” he turns to Lae’zel, only to immediately be met with her wearied expression.

- - -

As her long legs dangle over the ledge of an overlook in the Grove, Saphyra sits, holding her forearm tightly as electricity ripples through her veins. She winces, hunched slightly over as a myriad of thoughts invade her mind regarding the Grove, the conflict, the tadpole, and just all the other concerns as of late. Her tail even reflects the waves of restlessness washing over her, as she absentmindedly drags it back in forth in the dirt. Sitting there, tightly clenching her fists, Saphyra doesn’t detect the approaching footsteps of her pale traveling companion, who seems rather reluctant to talk to her in the first place.

Mumbling to himself, Astarion finally spots Saphyra, prompting him to release a sigh of relief as he walks over to her seated position. Folding his arms, he stands over her with a pronounced look of indignation.

“I have been looking everywhere for you!-” he begins to raise his voice, before detecting the expression of pain washed over her face. He notices the currents of electricity radiating from her arm, which produces a concerned look on his face.

Astarion blinks, before slightly adjusting his tone and clearing his throat.

“Apologies…are you alright?” he inquires, only to be met with complete and utter silence.

Ah…the silence treatment.

He thinks to himself, before continuing with his reconciliation attempt.

“I came here to find you because…well…I wanted to…apologize for how I carried on earlier.” he forces out his apology, with his eyes glued to the grass below them, only to raise his eyes back to her unwavering expression.

Saphyra groans before positioning her elbows atop her knees and resting her head in between the palms of her hand.

As his agitation grows, Astarion rolls his eyes before huffing aloud.

“Listen, you should be thankful I decided to come and apologize to you as opposed to you having to be subjected to hearing Gale drone on and on about-” he begins to rant before Saphyra severs his thought.

“Do you ever stop talking?” she asks, tone heavily laced with annoyance, all the while not lifting her head from her hands.

A proud smirk surfaces on Astarion’s face as he triumphs by finally getting her attention.

“And so she speaks.” he goads.

Looking down at the space right beside her, he glances back towards Saphyra, who has still yet to make eye contact with him.

“...May I sit?” he inquires, before being met with a silent nod from his companion.

Astarion swiftly takes a seat right beside her, before Saphyra slowly raises her head, only to wince once more from the pain shooting upward in her forearm. She quickly grasps it once again, shutting her eyes from the sudden bolt of pain.

Watching silently, Astarion opens his mouth to speak once more.

“Now…what exactly is that about?” he inquires cautiously as Saphyra opens her eyes to meet his.

“Whenever I get upset, I get these…painful currents that rush up my arm, through my fingers. It’s almost like raw, unfiltered magic, yet…it just feels so debilitating,” she explains as she gently massages her arms and flexes her hand. Suddenly, a small laugh exits her lips as her eyes trace the veins running down her wrist.

“My former mentor, Ermina, used to tell me all the time, ‘You pull from a dangerous place.’” she adds, with a bittersweet smile forming on her face.

“I’ve always struggled with controlling my powers because I never learned how to cease sourcing from my emotions.” she says, before slowly turning to look at him once more.

“I see…” Astarion says, thinking to himself about what to say next.

In-depth discussions regarding emotions and feelings truly weren’t something that he was accustomed to.

“Well…I’m curious. What is it that made you change your mind about the tieflings?” he asks, causing Saphyra to sigh once more.

This wasn’t exactly something that she was truly used to either.

Turning her gaze from Astarion, Saphyra looks out into the Grove, before her eyes fixate on something in the distance.

“...Look at them.” she instructs, causing confusion to surface on Astarion’s face.

Completely thrown off by the request, Astarion moves slightly closer to her before squinting his eyes as he tries to figure out what she’s referring to.

“Erm…the druids' poorly constructed homes?” he guesses, only to be met with an agitated expression from Saphyra.

“No, Astarion, the children.” she explains, pointing out to Ide and Umi who both were chasing each other around with faux, wooden swords.

Even more puzzled than before, Astarion turns to her for an explanation, before Saphyra rolls her eyes and begins to elaborate.

“They’re all just…so happy. Even though, most of the tiefling children here are parentless, and have lost everything…” she begins, looking down while she plays with her fingers anxiously.

“All of the tieflings here have lost just about everything, from their homes to loved ones, yet they still manage to smile. Because they have community…” she explains, not fully comprehending their resiliency at all.

“When I first migrated to the Gate with my mother, I was 3 years old, and we had just fled Neverwinter after my father died…Once we got to the city, we weren’t welcomed at all.” Saphyra says, as her anger began to become more apparent, clenching her fists once more.

“I was called ‘devil spawn’ and ‘half-hell’...threatened, ridiculed and abused, whilst my mother was rejected from society, and spat upon…And the tieflings here are already being segregated from the druids in this Grove…” she adds, with each word seeped in vitriol.

“And when I saw how they treated Arabella, I…just began to see myself.” Saphyra, sighs, resting her head in her hands once more.

“...I am far from the ‘hero’ type, and I rarely give a damn over anyone but myself, and yet…” she pauses, staring down once more at the tieflings walking below them.

“If I could do one decent thing amongst all of the shitty things I’ve done thus far…I would want it to be aiding the tieflings by getting them safely to the Gate.” she expresses, before lifting her head once more. Saphyra searches Astarion’s face, attempting to read into his conflicted expression.

Astarion was not one for sob stories, however, he did find himself attempting to understand where Saphyra was coming from. He was truly not interested in being deemed a ‘hero’ either, and frankly, he wasn’t entirely keen on having to spare help for the druids, let alone, the tieflings.

With a heavy sigh, Astarion shuts his eyes, before pinching the bridge of his nose.

He truly feels as though he will regret this.

“I…I’ll assist you, just this once, with locating the Archdruid-” he states, before quickly following up with his clause.

“However! I am not going to be made into some…’saviour for the people’, so this better not become a habitual occurrence.” he asserts, causing a small smile to creep onto Saphyra’s face.

“Trust me…this is my one and only good deed.” she assures him, before producing a serious expression.

“Thank you, Astarion…for listening.” Saphyra states, prompting Astarion to wave it off.

“It’s quite alright…” he begins, before beginning to smirk.

“To be fair, from all of the malicious jokes we’ve shared, at other’s expense, I must say…I would have never painted you as a ‘softie’.” he teases, playfully nudging her shoulder.

Saphyra narrows her eyes at him before a playful smirk surfaces on her face. With heated fingertips, Saphyra swiftly pinches one of his long, pointed ears, causing Astarion to yelp before swatting her hand away.

“Watch it, Ears.” she warns as Astarion stands to his feet.

The pale elf extends a cold hand out to the tiefling, to her surprise, causing Saphyra to blink at the gesture.

“Quickly now…before my generosity wanes.” he says, right before Saphyra cautiously takes his hand. Astarion pulls her up, before dusting the dirt from his trousers. For a brief moment, he pauses, suddenly realizing how tall she happened to be. His eyes glaze over her figure, noticing that she stands at least 2 inches above him. This earned a puzzled expression from Saphyra, who silently wondered why he was gawking at her in such a way.

The two begin to walk back to the entrance of the Grove together in silence, as they both quietly think about the encounter they both just shared. While Saphyra was rather taken aback by Astarion’s willingness to help, Astarion was also surprised to see such a vulnerable side from the typically stoic tiefling. Both were able to slightly peer into the complexities that make them distinctly who they are.

“You know…you really should be grateful that I came to find you, as opposed to Gale.” Astarion begins to share, causing Saphyra’s brow to quirk up in curiosity.

“He would’ve rambled on about how this whole ordeal reminded him of a time ‘back in Waterdeep’ and how he was able to ‘broker peace amongst two Waterdhavians’” he wistfully explains, adding in an exaggerated, yet surprisingly accurate impersonation of Gale.

Saphyra slowly begins to erupt in laughter, rather caught off guard by the silly impression.

“Okay, I must admit, that is quite spot-on,” she adds, only fueling Astarion to continue making fun of their traveling companion.

Perhaps the two are willing to understand one another more than they’ve previously anticipated.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x oc #original character #fan fic #fan fiction #saphyra zarashi #the spellthief & the pale elf #my writing #oc fan fic #jay writes #romance #slow burn

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