pursuitseternal

[pursuitseternal]

“A Night with the Ascendant:” the Ending

A!Astarion x Lumina (OC) | E | 3.8K

Summary: Freed from her own past, more than what anyone made her, Lumina is taken to the graveyard. Reward and punishment in equal measure are doled out by the Ascendant who finds himself… a hero once more.

CW: Semi public sex, Dom/sub, “punishment,” the end of harem dynamics, true love wins

Previous ch | Ao3 Link | Masterlist

The graveyard. Lower City. A gentle breeze teased the strands of Lumina's hair as she stared at the line of headstones, returning her crimson eyes on the one that bore her Sire's name.

Astarion. A name she finally felt the comfort of saying on her tongue, freed from her past shackles just like him.

That purr of a laugh rumbled deep in his chest, and Astarion reached for Lumina’s side. “Not the place you thought I’d bring you? No, a silken bed and silken ropes for your sweet, small cool as alabaster body it is not.” He paused. “This is a cold stone of a different variety. And it is one I have never shown another soul.” A fang dug into his lip for a moment. “Not even the souls whose bodies are laid to rest beside it. Even if my grave is empty, technically, I just… couldn’t let us all part, even after death. Well,” he gave a bitter smirk, “death for them.” 

He brushed off the crumbling rock, parting the ivy from the sides to expose the rest of the headstone.

“Come, Lumina,” he murmured her name, a command and yet, the way his tongue gave her name that silken caress, it was no order from Master to Spawn. 

She reached for his hand, her fingers ice cold in the night, or perhaps from her trials. But either way, Astarion only wished to pull her all the closer for it. To warm her inside and out. 

As she always did for him. 

He settled down on his knees on the grave, pulling her into his lap. She was a vision, breathtaking with her pale hair in the pale moonlight. The way her red eyes sparkled, it all made him pause, his now-beating heart stopped again. He could swear. In a new sort of delicious agony than the kind that made it stop the first time. 

He put a hand on hers, setting it on his heart, smiling to feel it actually throbbing harder than ever. 

“Watching you tonight, the way you unfolded and crumpled after… he… was dead,” he paused, searching her face as if it held the words he longed to speak next. “I felt it too.”

Lumina looked up at him, red eyes wide as she felt him pull her into him, his back leaning now on that arched headstone. 

He looked so forlorn, pale face and kohl rimmed eyes gaunt. “Long ago, from the time when the rest of these real heroes lived and breathed and did far better acts in their lives than I did. When I usurped Cazador’s place in the Rite, I could taste nothing but the thrill of the power that filled my veins. It took awhile, took losing my closest friends and companions one … at a time…” he nods to them in order, “took their deaths for me to finally… crumble. Like you did.” 

He pulled her against him, arms wrapping tightly around her small frame, his face burying into the curve of her shoulder. “Only, once they were gone, I was alone. No one to hold me, to comfort me when the voices of their wit and wisdom haunted me in the dark. I was alone.” 

His hands ran over her back, the black silk of her shirt such a stark contrast to her pale skin, especially in the moonlight. “You made me think of them, you know… think of me as I was, the Rogue that I was to them. You saw me like that, the journal by our bony, cryptic Scribe in your hands, their names on your tongue that day in my bed chamber.”

He paused, glancing down the line of headstones, then back to her pretty, upturned face. 

“I knew it then. That I… loved you. And that, after so long without a companion, I didn’t need to be the haughty, mighty, lusty Ascendant anymore, at least not alone. And not devoid of meaning as I have been these last centuries.” 

“Master…” Lumina murmured, then paused to smile, her corpse cold lips warmed with a smile meant only for him.  “Astarion, my Sire.  I love you too. I…” her small hand gripped into the fine embroidery of her jacket, the beads and gold tread cold to even her undead touch in the night air. 

“I love you too, from that first night you took me to your bed, when you gave me a book with that flash of kindness in your scarlet eyes…” she murmured. Pulling herself to her knees, she straddled him, if only to bring her face into his. To taste his breath on her tongue and lose herself in his scent. “I’m sorry for leaving, for disobeying you and leaving the palace, for deceiving you and putting myself in harm’s way.” Wide red eyes glimmered at him in the pale light of the graveyard. “And still you came for me, my hero, even if he denies that title.” 

She dared that small, coquette smile, dared a little giggle, even as he locked eyes on her. 

“Hmm, yes. Defied by my Bride, my little slippery Light. I did promise you a punishment, didn’t I?” he purred, that silken voice dripping seduction, but his hands, those wandered over her body dressed in his pilfered breeches and tunic with a tender reverence. 

As if she were the incomparable being of untold power.  There were no vampires like her, nor would there ever be again.

Not for him. 

Warm lips pressed to her cool neck, tongue sliding out to lave up in a long swipe. The taste of that wretch’s blood was still fresh on her pale skin. She shook like a leaf under his fingers as they deftly opened her trousers—his trousers stolen in her transgression. Lumina was eager, of course she was. Her little, toned body shimmied them to the dirt of his grave.

This place had always been nothing but dust to him, the relics of his past. The remains of his delusions of heroism, a dream that had faded when he ascended and then died alongside each of his companions. 

But now, hearing his Bride’s heart pounding in time with his as he made her pulse dance and flutter with every loving touch, Astarion felt the promise of life again. 

And hells, did he want to live. 

“Astarion,” she sighed his name once more, that fearful tremor chased away. The ghost of her own old ‘master’ would haunt her no more, now that she knew what the guiding, providing hand her true Master felt like. 

Like the caress of leather-clad fingers. Supple but firm. And always there. 

It made his palms itch for more as he began to dig his long nails into the yielding flesh of her thighs. And there, there were her sighs, the way her skin turned a delicious shade of pink and of red as he sucked and bit into her neck. Just to mark, not to feed. 

“Lumina,” he purred in reply as his hand pressed to her belly under that long black tunic. Skin cool to the touch from her beautiful nature and the night air, he wanted to feel it, all of it against him. “Are you ready for your punishment, my Bride?” He murmured before sucking at her rounded ear and biting into its flesh. He pulled them both to their feet, wanting to claim her, to tower over her as she loved

“Y-Yes, Master,” her light voice hitched as his hand slid between her thighs. He cupped her sex, holding it in his warm palm without giving her any friction. “That’s my good little Bride,” he growled, low and dangerous as he pulled her body flush to his, her back to his front. 

Something rough scored against his side. Stone and ivy nearly crumbling.  He braced them beside his old headstone. Once a thing of shame, he now sought to christen it anew. Both of them, freed. And both of them, powerful. And both of them, in love. 

"You were so very scary as you struck him down you know, but before that, was my girl good or bad?" He hummed against her ear, curling his tongue around its cool shell.

"B-Bad. Master, I was a bad, bad spawn. I shouldn't have run, shouldn't have stolen clothing from you and a blade. My Master must be very disappointed. I should be punished," Lumina murmured her reply, heat of arousal now mingling with her cold, senseless feeling after her revenge.

His hand closed around her throat from behind, angling her head up to allow his aquiline nose to press against her cool cheek. Lips parting, he hissed at her, fangs dripping his saliva as his mouth watered in anticipation. "She really should be punished, you know. Have her pretty pale skin marks with bloodied bites and red, swelling hand prints." He trailed off, a shockingly reverent kiss on her neck his only physical advance. "But you know something, Lumina," he hummed softly again, silken syllables in her ear just for her. "I'm proud of her, not angered." His sigh was warm against her neck as he kissed the scars her gave her, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Nevertheless, he growled into her ear. “Put your hands on the stone and you know the rules. Ask before you touch me, taste me, or come, pet. Master is going to take excellent care of his love.”

"Y-yes, Master Astarion…" she murmured, her body humming from the rush it was to kill and be caught and now… to be praised and punished. It was exactly as she craved. Her little hands gripped the rough stone, her eyes drifting down to his name, almost worn smooth by time.

Even if the name's bearer would never succumb to the passage of time.

His nose to her ear, his clothed erection grinding the bare cheeks of her ass, his hands still lifting the fabric of her long black tunic. "You were so very brave, my sweet little Bride. The way you stabbed him, screaming like it felt good, it was enthralling."

He kissed her shoulders, teasing a line of blunt-toothed bites over their alabaster curve. "Still naughty to leave Master, to not bring him with for the carnage." His hand lifts and smacked a single spank to her right butt cheek, his handprint already visible in the pale flesh. And her cry was ecstatic "That is for going it alone. You are never alone anymore, Lumina. You are mine," he growled long and deep in his chest. Taking his cock in his grip, he splayed his hand to her back, bending her over his headstone until he could see and smell her sex all wet and ready for him. He wound her long straw blonde hair around his hand and pulled her neck to his lips. Lips pressing tender kisses to her scars, he set an odd counterpoint of violence to his caresses, shoving his cock in deep, almost threatening to topple them both into the stone.

Her cry of bliss as she wrapped around him went right to his heart. This was what he had missed. For centuries. For long before his Ascension, before his fateful turning to a vampire. This warmth in his belly wasn't from pleasure. Not from the thrill of dominating or finding her the perfection of submission. It was deeper than that. It went from the root of where they coupled to his beating heart.

To his hells-touched soul.

His strokes were deep but not punishing. The dig of his long nails into the flesh of her ass, for the edge of pain she loved, that she craved. He took her slowly, making her feel the way they fit together so flawlessly, Master and Bride. Sire and Creation. With a tug on her hair, he pulled her fanged kiss into his own. "I love you, my Little Light," he breathed into her cool lips.

Her gasp of pleasure pain made the heat in his belly pure molten hot. He snapped his hips into her sex faster. Feeling her fluttering around his shaft. Gods. He wanted more. Wanted all of her. For all time. His love. His lover. His equal. His Bride.

As her voice cracked in a whimper, she cried, "And I love you, my Lord."

Astarion only pulled out of her with a snarling smile. Her cunt clenched on nothing as she cried out again. But he gripped her shoulders to spin her quickly, to shove her bared ass against the headstone, and to crush her lips to his. "I need to taste you. I need to be inside you and claim you and sup on your pleasure." He rumbled into her panting lips, speaking even as he lifted her thigh around his waist.

Then he slammed back inside her, a choked roar from both of them as he filled her.

Plunging in and out of her, the pause only pushed him closer to the brink all the faster. Now, again, wrapped up in her tight wet sex, he felt more than pleasure, he chased more than hedonism.

He had her. A hand clutched around her throat as they moved in synch. It was pure bliss like he had never felt before.

Her taste on his tongue, her fangs clacking against his own, her cool skin on his own feverish one— it was all he needed to be happy.

"Whose are you?" He rasped into their biting kiss. "To whom do you belong?" His words snarled together into one roar as he snapped into her, so close to his release. He knew the moment his name slipped from her lips, he would be undone. At her mercy. Under her spell.

And then, there it was. "Yours," she breathed so sweetly and stuttered as her throat vibrated under his fingers. "Please, let me come, my love," she croaked out, her body shaking and throbbing, well on its way to alresdy disobey his rules. But he was feeling indulgent. "Of course, my sweet." He rasped in her ear, closing his grip harder. He slammed his hips, even as her walls milked him for his release. For the spend that pumped and pulsed into her waiting core. It was perfection. It was purest pleasure.

It was love.

Warm fingers slid along the column of her neck to cradle her head, to hold her steady on her feet. "My beautiful Bride, you are indeed mine." He purred softly into his mouth, against her fangs as he kissed her back to breathing. "And I am yours, the Vampire Ascendant in your heart and at your command."

It was a vow, a truth, and a confession all at once. Uttered on the soil of his death and undeath.

Fangs sank into the flesh of his wrist, tearing it open. "Feed, my love. Taste on your tongue how much you've undone me, blood sweet from the pleasure only you grant me."

The rush of their connection, their bond, took hold, its power stealing his breath. His blood in her little body, the way it warmed her cool, undead skin, it was unmatched in its vision of beauty. Her eyes glowed faintly as she lifted her lips from his skin. "I love you, Astarion…"

"I love you, that's what I've wanted to say. What you've wanted to hear for so long." He captured her hand in his, grabbing it to pull out of her, to pull them both back from the cold grave. Empty grave and full heart, Astarion leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Come, Little Light. Let's go home."

Even though the ball was finished, the foyer to the Crimson Palace was full. Dozens of red eyes shone at him. His spawn. His children. Those he had sired for his purpose and pleasure all narrowed their eyes at him now, all still dressed in their finery.

And it was Morana who crossed her arms and whose dark tail twitched predaciously behind her. "Well. Master finally did return home. A miracle."

Lumina almost hissed at her, but it was Astarion who pulled at her hand gently.

He looked at them, and in that moment it was a sea of different red eyed faces, marked with the scars of the Rite of Profane Ascension. He didn't regret what it took to give him his existence, but, as he looked into their faces, and then into Lumina's, he inhaled sharply. He'd given them so much more than he ever had a spawn.

Save one thing. Freedom… a chance at a new a home. Two things, he corrected himself.

"It doesn't have to be your home any more," he murmured to the mass of his spawn. "You can stay. You can go. You can find a new life on your own in the Underdark away from the sun, if you choose." He unfurled his hand and gestured towards the door. "Just know my Bride and I will not begrudge you either."

Lumina looked up at him, the long mess of his silver waves of hair down his back catching in the moonlight. He looked serene. Confident.

Heroic.

A clamor of voices filled the foyer, and Lumina just clung to his arm as he answered question after question.

Yes, he was in earnest. No, he would not compel them to stay or leave. Yes, if they stayed they were still freed. Yes, they were still Vampire Spawn, needing to keep to the shadows and feed on blood.

But even with that the dozen or so pairs of red eyes blinked at him, and then set out with their choices.

Except one. One navy skinned tiefling refused to move. She glared hard. "Free to leave? Fine. Free to find a Master worthy of serving." She snapped and turned to whip her tail at them both. "Perhaps Waterdeep or Neverwinter have covens with some ambition and don't trade their dark power for some pretty submissive child."

Lumina hissed, fangs out, but a warm hand stayed her arm. "No, my love. Let her own venom be her poison. You may take it elsewhere, Morana. I wish you happiness, if you allow it."

"I do not, and I will not," the Tiefling spat back before leaving out the door and into the dark night behind them.

Astarion exhaled hard, seeking her hand, his warm touch trailing from his hold on her arm until it weaved into her fingers. Squeezing it, he looked at her with pain. "Was that… a heroic thing to do? Let them be free?"

Lumina nodded, hand in his she raised it to her lips. "Yes. I think all of them would be proud too, watching you choose a greater good over purposeless power."

Nodding, he knew who "them" was. The Wizard and the Druid. The Helion with a Heart and the Daughter of Darkness. He paused a moment, then turned. His crimson eyes were bright, wet with unshed tears, tears two centuries old he had never let fall.

Now, in his empty foyer, his Bride and love in his arms, he let them go. Two small, cool hands reached to cup his cheeks, her touch thumbing away the warm wet on those sharp cheeekbones.

"My love," he croaked out, his throat too tight to function as he fought the tears that needed to come.

"Master," Lumina purred up at him, red eyes dazzling and filled with love for him, undeserved but desired none the less.

Six months… six months of a palace filled with him and his Bride doing hells knows what in every room. Six months of showing her off at balls and galas, promenading her on his arm like the brilliant, deadly jewel she was. His Light. And all of Baldur's Gate knew of her brilliance now. The Lady Lumina.

He sat by the fire, holding her on his lap like the treasured pet she was, a soft snow falling outside the Palace window. It only made his skin warmer by the fire. His Bride's blood in his mouth, his Bride's walls warming his cock, Astarion looked up at her with a look of wonder. His hand at her back, exploring oh so lazily like it was the only task needing accomplishing this century perhaps it was.

"Tell me again my love, now that my thoughts are less focused on being inside you and more focused on your words, how fares the rest of our vampires?"

Lumina laughed, holding his chin, her clothes strewn so far from their warm and intimate spot by the fire. They were snow-soaked from her treks into the city to keep an eye on the others he had created and freed. "You have a singularly focused mind, my lord, until your hunger is sated, hmm?" She teased, even as her eyes drank in the way his face's angles caught the light of the fire. "Those in the Underdark report they are settled, those in the Gate are keeping to the shadows, finding ignoble prey as you wished. And… our past little problem," she trailed off. "She's lost to this plane, her pride was her downfall out in the wilds." She doesn't answer, even as the rush of relief at the loss of her rival fills her with a sense of safety.

She let it lie after that. Her lord was too beautiful, too majestic in the warmth of the fire, too arousing with his cock still buried inside her to allow for conversation to stray too far away from their love.

They were both hedonistic like that. Both so selfish like that. Both cut from the same fabric to match one another. Their one and only's, lovers forever.

Lumina hissed in sweet pain as she shifted on his lap, her ass marked by reddened handprints. Her folds are so swollen from use, they're practically locked around his cock, even as he softens inside her after their games.

Her eyes looked him over, and Astarion felt like he was naked, more than he was. That his very hells-blessed soul was on display for her now. "What is it, my treasure?" He murmurs oh so softly. Like it was a great secret, the love they shared, this intimacy of bonded hearts they indulge in each day.

Lumina shook her head. "Nothing horrid, just ruminating that this love, this bond you've given me for eternity all began with just one night."

He arched his brow, the fire light dancing over his sharp and pale features. "As most stories begin," he cleared his throat for the dramatics of it, "Once upon a time…"

"No no," Lumina pressed a finger to his plush lips. "One night with the Ascendant began this tale…"

🎨 by @rozelunar (twt) and @dafna-winchester

Thank you to @nyx-knox and @sacredsymbol821 for reading and hyping and journeying with me to the end.

[pursuitseternal]

⚡️= Dadstarion content || 🔞= NSFW with BlueSky link!

🌿Illustrations

⚡️ Silent Night || ⚡️ Family Chaos || The Vampire Astarion ||

🔞Pretty Like the Sun (NSFW) || Pretty Like the Sun (SFW) ||

His Little Treat || Evelyn's Favorite Shirt ||

How it Started vs. How it's Going || Aftermath in the Dungeons ||

A Vampire and His Sorceress || ⚡️ The Ancunin Family ||

⚡️ Bedtime Duty Rewards || Gold Runs In Our Blood ||

Wedding Night || Bathtime Kisses || Hot Springs ||

Instinctive Magic (WIP) || 🔞Instinctive Magic (NSFT) ||

Breakfast Time || The Mating Rituals of Elves ||

Honeymoon in Waterdeep || Happy Birthday, Astarion ||

🔞Sing, My Sorceress (NSFT) || 🔞Manners, Darling (NSFT) ||

Freckles & Bright Eyes || Fireside Bonding ||

⚡️ Ancunin Family Holiday Card || Post-Battle, Post-Coital ||

Sparky Pin-Up || Seduction Reciprocation || Sleeping In

🌿Comics & Animatics

Nose Kissies || Nose Kisses (Take 2) || ⚡️ A Failed Bedtime Attempt || ⚡️ Coitus Interruptus || Caught Staring ||

🌿Commissioned Art

🖼️ Evelyn’s Tav Portrait by @marimosalad

🦇 Batstarion & His Sparky Consort by @marimosalad

⚔️ Evelyn Hale: Fully Armored, Ready for Battle by @sniickerdoodles

📚 Evelyn’s Favorite Book by @ritzeldraws

⚡️ Sparks Will Fly by Lady Cerebus

💥 Power Couple by @astarfruity

🌿Gifts & Commissions

A Birthday Gift from @sniickerdoodles

A Vampire Lord & His Bhaalspawn Princess for @pursuitseternal

Bathtime Gossip for marimosalad

[pursuitseternal]

A gift for @sacredsymbol821 🌹🗡️

Merelind and Glennath, a tender moment in the Underdark. A princess and her knight

Commission for @pursuitseternal ✨

[pursuitseternal]

Gale As a Man of Faith

One thing I think gets lost a little bit in discussions of Gale is the fact that he is as Wyll put it “a man of faith.”

It isn’t that we don’t know that. It’s just that his faith seems to be so tied up with his ex-lover that we forget Mystra is also his goddess and that worship of her pre-dates her manifestation to him.

Often his faith is discounted as the indoctrination that allowed her to prey upon him. There is absolutely an element of truth to that, but I don’t think it’s the whole story. Gale’s arc is as much about his questioning his faith and coming to terms with it, as it is about his lack of self-worth. More under the cut.

Gale says he has been in touch with the Weave for as long as he can remember, which, if he was born during the Spellplague, means he was in touch with an unstable Weave. He would not have been in touch with Mystra at all because she was “mostly” dead at the time.

If Gale was old enough to understand what was going on with wizards at the time, he probably learned that they expected Mystra to return at some point because she always had before. Gale might also have had that belief.

That’s faith of a different sort. A belief in a goddess that may or may not return. She doesn’t exist at the moment, but she may exist someday. Gale just has to have faith. That’s a profound sort of faith and different from what most people in Toril believe because their gods are alive.

Gale’s faith was also probably wrapped up in his faith in the Weave and his ability to use it. There would have been no presence in it until, hey presto, one day Mystra is there.

Gale’s faith in the Weave now becomes wrapped up with faith in Mystra. For him at this point, every incantation becomes a prayer, every spell a psalm. He is devoted. Then she reveals herself to him and that, of course, makes his faith stronger.

Gale is often cast as power hungry and hubristic because he wants to give the Orb to Mystra hoping she will lift her Ban for him. He is, according to this line of thought, partially lying to himself if he says he did it out of love or to prove his worth. If we look at it through the lens of faith, we get a different interpretation.

Faith in a higher power often has an element of transaction. Follow these rules and you receive a place in heaven and potentially blessings in this life. Make an offering to them and they may look favorably on you. If bad things start happening, it’s because you angered your deity, your offering wasn’t good enough or simply because you are not worthy.

When Gale says he wanted to prove himself worthy, I believe him. It’s a natural thing when it comes to faith. Sure, he shares her bed sometimes, but she is his goddess, and he has faith that if he proves himself worthy, she will bless him.  Is he ambitious, sure. Does he want to be a god at that time? I don’t think so. I think he wants to be the next Elminster, otherwise why call himself Gale of Waterdeep? An impressive title to go along with that ambition. All he has to do is prove himself worthy, the way Elminster has.

But, he messes up. He doesn't do his homework. If he had, he would have known what he was dealing with and never tried to bring it to Mystra.

Here’s where it gets interesting. Mystra doesn’t tell him how he messed up. She doesn’t tell him anything about the Karsus Weave. She doesn’t give him a second chance.

She can remove the Orb; she does so in one of the endings. It could be a learning experience for our young, still inexperienced, ambitious wizard. Instead, she lets him rot in his tower. Punishment? Maybe. Gale certainly thinks so and he thinks he deserves it. He has faith that she is doing the right thing.

Why? Because he angered her. She is completely justified in turning away from him. He proved unworthy. His faith prevents him from even questioning her.

One thing to note is that while Shadowheart spends a lot of the journey trying to figure out who she is without Shar, Gale is already there. The difference is that while Shadowheart turned her back on Shar, Mystra turned her back on Gale.

So who is Gale without Mystra? Is he even a wizard anymore? He has to believe in her. He has to have faith that she will forgive him.

So, he doesn’t get angry that she left him. He calls himself the villain. He still worships her. She is still the source of all creation to him. She is the incarnation of his beloved Weave, and she can do nothing wrong.

Until she tells him to kill himself. At first, he is on board because she is his goddess, and he has faith that she is right. As a man of faith her forgiveness is important to him – not just because she holds the keys to a nice afterlife but because he wronged his goddess.  

In the real world, the faithful often ask for their deity’s forgiveness for transgressions. Gale is no different. As he points out, if he does what Mystra wants, “wrongs will be righted.” He’s talking about his own transgression. He blames himself and needs her forgiveness.

As he moves along, he begins to see that his faith was misplaced (this is similar to Shadowheart’s arc but it’s a lot more subtle). His goddess, who is supposed to protect him, the one he tried to do everything for, will only forgive him if he dies. What kind of god does that? Well, most of the gods on Toril will, but as a man of faith, those are other gods, not his, she would never ask that of him. But she did.

He will tell a romanced Tav that there is no love lost between him and Mystra because she would have seen him dead. He is questioning the faith he had in her, but he isn’t ready to renounce her the way Shadowheart does Shar (if that happens).

By the time we get to Baldur’s Gate he is seriously questioning his faith; to the point that he wants to become a god himself. He believes he wouldn’t toy with mortals the way Mystra toyed with him. He will become a god who answers prayers and helps the good and punishes the bad. This is Gale trying to take back his power, the same way all the Origin characters do. Is it the right way? No, because Gale becomes what he hates.  

And a Gale who apologizes to Mystra? Does that mean he has faith in her again? I would say not. He sees her for what she is. His faith has become tempered by reality.

But Gale is a man that needs something to believe in. What does he believe in? The Weave. Now that he can separate Mystra from the Weave in his own mind, he can apologize for basically not doing his homework and unleashing something destructive on the world.

His apology is to the world and to the Weave that he almost destroyed not to Mystra. He agrees to give her the Crown because he knows firsthand that mortals playing with Karsus’ toys is a bad thing and not likely to end well.

I think by this point Gale has figured out who he is without Mystra. He is still a wizard. He can still command the Weave. Maybe he isn’t a Chosen anymore but he is fine with that. He has found faith in himself.

[pursuitseternal]

A coloured sketch of my favourite druid, Halsin from BG3. I did this sketch as part of some sketch requests on bsky and as a redraw of when I first drew the character almost a year ago. It makes me smile to look back on how much my art has grown, what I’ve learned, and see my art style take shape🍃🐻💛

[pursuitseternal]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝓇𝒶𝒹𝓁𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈 🌹🔮

Merelind and Gale Dekarios, and Tara!

Thank you @charlenestrawart for this MASTERPIECE!

[pursuitseternal]

As a former music school performance major you should also include

Writing papers on famous Bards all night as they get giddy / insane.

Needing to identity songs by only a few measures or their ear training automaton scolds them with Vicious Mockery

Practice room smut.

Daring each other to see if their magic and music gets better if they get drunk

I want to write a fic set in a Faerûnian bard college solely so I can staff it with automatons called Solfeggio and Semiquaver. They could check pitch, act as a metronome, tune instruments, listen to students complain about exams... The professors could complain about a time before art became mechanized and soulless.

*sigh* to the WIP folder.

[pursuitseternal]

“In Want of a Third:” A Scandal in the Gate

Regency Week Day 5: A moment away from prying eyes / a scandalous rumor

CW: Threesome, semi public alcove tryst

Ao3 link | Baldur’s Gate Masterlist

🎨 by @nyx-knox

Baldur's Mouth Broadsheet

It's written on good authority that the night of the Ravensguard Ball, the most delicious of tawdry scandal echoed in the refurbished walls of High Hall.

Amidst the dancing and cavorting and toasts of genteel society, many eyes witnessed the arrival of the freshly minted Lord Ancunín. His ascension to the ranks of lordship in the "Crimson Palace" turned every head, but none more than the also freshly minted Mrs. Merelind Dekarios.

Many eyes, mostly sober, witnessed the two old companions sharing drinks and more along the alcoves of the ballroom… Seems the Rogue is still in the business of stealing, kisses now rather than gold and trinkets

One would wonder what the estimable Wizard, Mr. Gale Dekarios, might have to say about it, if the three weren't mysteriously absent from the bulk of the gathering.

Some may wonder, but some do know, many a happy marriage may exist and yet be in want of a third…

Too small an alcove for three, but Merelind had nothing but determination when is came to sex. Propriety be damned. She's married for love and lust, and her husband doted on her every whim. Even if it included allowing his wife a chance encounter with her old flame.

"You'd better make this count, my lord," the wizard hissed at the pale elf past his wife's pretty flushed and freckled face. "I'm not one to let others indulge in what's mine often. Best savor the experience." Gale's voice was low, rough, and muted only by the puffing whines his wife made between them.

Pulling his mouth from her neck, Astarion kissed the back of Merelind's ear, watching that pointed tip tremble. A sweet small reaction given how both men were rutting into her holes in this shadowed corner of High Hall.

"Oh my dear Gale, does this look like the face of a woman left wanting?" He pulled her up by her hair, showing off the absolute debauched expression on that freckled complexion. Her mismatched eyes were dark with lust and lidded in pleasure. And their banter only made all her walls squeeze them both harder.

Her mouth hung slack, the faintest cry issuing from them. One that Gale's wide, warm palm clapped over to silence.

"Ah ah, wife. I'll indulge you and your extra desires but not to have you land us on some gossip sheet come morning," he chuckled. "Although, even if it did, I doubt half the Ton would be shocked. And the other half?"

"Probably jealous…" Astarion finished the assessment with a silken purr right in her ear. His warm tongue licked up the side of her neck, lips and teeth always so close to marking her with a single little love bite. "By the hells, Merelind. You should get your husband to fuck you in your ass more. It's far too tight for your ass to look this good." His crimson eyes lock tauntingly over her shoulder.

And Gale's dark eyes stared back. "I suppose you're right. One can't always be a gentleman..." He laughed, holding her leg higher even as his beloved wife's voice resonated and reverberated into his palm. "Coming already, my love?" he teased her, supplanting his lips for his palm to feel her tremble in her orgasm. As if her walls didn't squeeze him inside her cunt perfectly.

His own breath hitched, her name coloring his every breath as he reached his climax too. "Fuck, Merelind, my rose and my wife… so good and depraved for me."

"For … us…" Astarion snarled before burying his head into her shoulder and riding out the waves of their sexes around and against his. "Fuck, Merelind, such the well-bred whore you are for us."

Her breathing was hard and rasping, even as she struggled to hold on to a their shoulders any longer. "Never been one… for propriety anyway." Her words are stifled and stilted and husky from their tryst.

"We know, darling."

"And we are always quite ready for you," Gale hummed, determined to have the final word.

[pursuitseternal]

“Forever could never be long enough for me…”

“… to feel like I’ve had long enough with you…”

Thank you @justdebzong for this amazing VP shoot for Merelind and Gale Dekarios 🌹🔮

Bound by the Weave, madly in love, Merelind is Gale’s rose… the object of his every desire, his infatuation for eternity.

[pursuitseternal]

For @pursuitseternal ❤️

Bg ripped by @/bhaalbaaby

Models by Nyl

Full version: Bluesky | X | Reddit

[pursuitseternal]

Wip Wednesday

“A Night with the Ascendant” Chapter 9 is incoming.

200 years after the fall of the Netherbrain, Lord Astarion learns to love and be something better for the woman he loves.

Tagging: @roguishcat @pinkberrytea @hellethil @nyx-knox @charmandabear @khywren @snowfolly @tragedybunny @vixstarria @scrapsovereign @arachnomancer @faunsnoctuary @paganwitchisis

🎨 by RozeLunar on Bsky and twt.

[pursuitseternal]

Captain Dekarios loves his Siren the Sea

Don't mind what's going on below >_> he's just making the sea saltier. Nsft over on bluesky under KayOttic 🥵

A gift for @pursuitseternal for their fic Blessed By A Curse

#galedekarios #bg3

[pursuitseternal]

Thank you @pursuitseternal for commissioning me on this gorgeous comm of Gale & Merelind Pirate AU 🥹 I love them ❤️❤️❤️

[pursuitseternal]

“𝔹𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕒 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖, ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚: 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝔻𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘?”

Pirate Gale x Merelind | E | 4.9 k

Summary: As Merelind joins his crew, longing bursts into pent up feeling and … oh there’s a murder too.

CW: yearning/wanting, Gale jorks it in the ocean, Astarion is a menace, Tara has no time for this, Don’t get attached to Alfira (minor character murder death).

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

The night wore on, and Merelind sat by the fire, a tankard of wine in her hand. His fire. His crew gathered around her. That newest recruit from the Grove, that Tiefling Alfira, leaned in with her chin on her hand, hanging on Merelind’s every word.

Fascinated by the Siren.

Gale couldn’t blame Alfira for staring and leaning in so. Not when Merelind was so very… enchanting.

And then she laughed. Gods… when she laughed it was like nothing he had ever heard before. No music could compare, no melody spun even drew close to the way her laughter entranced him.

“Is this wise, Captain Dekarios? Letting the Siren join your ranks of able bodied beings?” He could feel the chastisement from Tara’s lips even before she had opened them. “Need I remind you, Gale, it’s her curse to try to drown you.”

Gale didn’t even look at his Treasym as she settled beside him on the driftwood log, the campfire roaring merrily still into the night. “No, I need no reminders,Tara, but need I reassure you, she’s spared my life at least twice now…. Three times debatably?”

A little sigh slipped from him as he remembered waking up with those two toned eyes shining down at him, the moment he had returned to the land of the living.

Tara only harrumphed. Malcontedly.

He huffed, “She’s cursed too, Tara. Bound by those Netherstones like I am with my Orb.” An earnest look softened his bearded and scarred face, his brown and milky eyes wide and longing. “The Crown of Karsus would set us both free. Forever. For good.”

Tail curling round her rear, she sat up and folded her wings. A little purr in her throat and she rubbed her face gently against his side. The unusual show of feline affection catching Gale grossly off guard, he stiffened.

“You know, Gale, I want nothing more than for you to be free and be… happy. Even if that be with you remaining in your Queen’s ire.” She said, pausing to sit back and look up at him. Her slitted feline eyes sparkling with sincerity. “But you should know the risks of dealing with curses by now. If that Orb in your chest that rots you from the inside out is an insufficient lesson, I’d hate to see the next one that is taught to you.”

Gale clenched his jaw, two eyes flicking to the other cursed one. And he only clenched harder as his belly warmed, watching her grab a violin to join that young Tiefling bard beside her on the lute. “By Mystra’s mantle,” he cursed with an aggravated sigh, “be it on my head if anything happens, then Tara, for I won’t deny myself a chance at freedom. Not her.”

Tara tutted, having nothing more to say on the matter than a terse, “Goodnight, Gale.” Then she flew off, probably to hunt.

His tanned hand lifted to his chest, rubbing the ache of his very curse as he watched them playing. The music was so pleasant, better than they’d enjoyed at sea since leaving their last port of the Emerald Grove. Captivated, he barely realized the way the rest of the camp had wandered off to their bedrolls as he sat spellbound by the melody that soared through the night. A lute plucking, a viol humming, and the crackling of fire. The most alluring of ballads.

The siren. His siren. And the other one… Alf—something. He didn’t notice the night wore on until it was just the music… and his Bosun who sat down beside him, somehow still smelling like that fragrance that always cloaked him.

“Sooo, Gale. How’s that sad, hopeless pining going?” The elf sat beside him gracefully, a bottle of Sunburst Shandy in his hand.

Gale scoffed, leveling an irritated glare at his friend. And crewmate. “Pining? Hardly? It’s the inestimable queen’s fault we are in this mess. And beside, it’s been a year or more since I was banished from court.”

That sleek face turned into an even sleeker smirk as he raised his bottle. “Oh my silly Captain,” his red eyes flicked to the musicians by the fire. “I wasn’t talking about Mystra.”

Gale narrowed his eyes, a sharp glare that should have checked anyone at their tone.

But not Astarion.

“You know…” he sighed, tapping the mouth of his bottle against his own. “I’m almost offended for you to take another bloodthirsty type into your crew.” He flashed a fanged smile, gesturing with his hand, a simple golden band around his lanky middle finger. “I mean as the resident vampire, even if it’s an alleged see-cret,” he drawled the last word, “I’d rather have been consulted before you allowed a murderous siren to sprout legs and pick up a bottle of Plum Fizz and a violin.”

He scowled a little as the two bards bid a friendly good night, leaving the topic of their discussion alone. Alone to turn her mismatched eyes on them from across the campfire.

“We need her, Astarion,” Gale whispered, refusing to turn to look at those accusatory scarlet eyes beside him. “She’s the key to obtaining the Crown and ending my curse, I just know it.”

Gale could practically feel the look of scalding judgement on his friend’s face. The vampire sneered, tones acerbic. “You’re not going to send her off, are you? Fantastic, well, if anyone in this group of weirdos wakes to a knife to their throat, she’s your responsibility, Gale.”

“I feel it in my bones, I'm right, Astarion.”

“Tch,” the vampire needled, “given the way your heartbeat jumps when she looks at you, I’d say you definitely feel it in a bone.”

With that flying barb, one that made Gale’s scarred and tanned cheeks blush, Astarion tossed his empty bottle to the sand behind him and set off for his bedroll.

Taking a long, shaky inhale, Gale wiped his hands on his thighs and stood. Merelind watched, two toned eyes blinking slowly as she watched him. Then, just to seal his fate and make his heart fairly stop, her lips turned in a subtle smile.

“Captain?” she murmured, still looking a sight in nothing but his coat. Did… did she lean back like that on her hands on purpose? Did she know it pushed that freckled swell of her breasts up into the moonlight?

He cleared his throat, sitting down beside her, forcing his eyes up and off her pretty bosom in the gap of his lapels. “I love this time of night…” he murmured, glancing up at the stars overhead. “There’s an almost reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness.” He reached his hand up towards the bright heavens. “The cradle of eternity,” he paused, the next of his thoughts unable to be said aloud….

…The timelessness of lovers…

Holding his breath, he felt her shift beside him, a cold hand settling down on his own.

And he gasped. Her musical voice only aimed to make his heart deafen him entirely as it pounded. Her voice was so soft, intimate even, “I’m glad you find my home beautiful, Captain….”

“Gale,” he interrupted with a hint of urgency. “You… you should call me Gale, Merelind. You’re no pirate, no sailor…” he turned to look at her, her profile so devastatingly striking. The way her one blue eye glowed in the firelight. His own eyes soft and wide, his voice barely more than a sigh as he let his heart speak. For once. Hoping that also for once, his heart would be heard. “You must know you’re… special….”

Merelind slowly turned her head, blinking just once as her berry lips curved just a little. “Am I?” she spoke equally softly, a flicker of hope still lingering in those mismatched eyes. “Is that why you’re willing to play the hero to save me, instead of the pirate?”

“Privateer, oh nevermind,” he stopped himself from being pedantic. For her sake. He curbed his arrogance, his need to prove his intelligence, for her. Gasping that cool hand under his, he lifted it to his lips. “No matter what I am called or what role the fates assign me, I am ever the gentleman.”

A nod of her pretty blonde head and she watched with wide eyes as he… held her hand. His fingers were so warm, his skin smelling so good, so alive and mortal. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a gentleman in my long, immortal life,” she murmured, eyes sliding shut. Her mouth chased the source of his warmth, leaning in until she could taste his breath on her tongue.

“Well,,” Gale murmured. His warm hand closed on hers, the chill of her skin only making his own flame hotter for her. “Perhaps one can’t always be a gentleman…”

Cool to the touch and floral to the scent, her lips met his once more. A tentative press. Not enough. Gale pulled her by that hand in his inexorably closer, their chests flushed. He needed her lips, pillowy soft, wanted that taste he had sampled, and craved the feeling of her against him. He worked his mouth with hers, tongues tangling as he lost himself in that intoxicating taste.

“You are unmatched, Merelind. Beautiful as the heavens themselves,” he barely breathed between kisses. He needed everything she would give him. And he’d plunder her lips until she yielded. Her breath in his nose, her taste on his tongue as he lapped and tangled it with hers, this surely was Elysium.

When did he lose his breath, he wondered, panting against her lips… his hand now in those sinfully soft blonde strands. Forehead pressed to hers, his chest heaved for air and ached for want. “Merelind… a rose and a song…” his hand swept to her cheek, cupping it as he caught his breath. “How I’d like to call you mine. My rose…”

She kept her eyes shut, a slight sway of her head against his, nuzzling him. “Mmm, you still sound like a gentleman from tales I’ve heard, even if you stole a kiss from me…” those intoxicating lips pulled to one side in a captivating smirk. “You pirate…”

He leaned forward, hands reaching to dig into her backside, to pull her closer. “Normally I don’t allow such an accusation, but when you say it, why it sounds alluring.” He growled the word, treasuring it as he sucked her bottom lip into his until it popped free. “Pirate.” Gale’s vision was filled with only her, brimming with freckles and tanned skin and mismatched eyes like the sea and like rubies. He should pull away, should be the polite suitor and bid her goodnight, but he can’t. This pull she has on him is far too strong.

A blessing or a curse unto itself, he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t care. Not as he shifted her to straddle him, as the weight of her settled across his lap to press right where he was aching. That was a blessing. It made his mouth release hers to moan, to heave a sigh as his hands pulled her down.

“Captain,” she breathed into his lips, her head shaking side to side. “You forget yourself.”

“No, my Rose. I think I know myself for truly the first time in your arms. I’ve felt so since I first laid eyes on you, Siren or no.” He can’t fight the way his hips thrust up into her, hands on her waist over the soft worn fabric of his coat. Another roll and he swears he can feel her shiver in his arms, gliding on lap. “And it’s Gale. You really should use my name, Merelind. I hope to hear you say it, sigh it, murmur it, whine it, and more in the coming days. Our own little music we might make with one another.”

His voice was roughened from his deliberate control, his strength exerting every balNtlylupi of effort to keep himself from flipping her one this driftwood and exploring her depths. His Orb flared up in their faces, an illumination of light through his eyelids he knows betrayed any intention he had of appearing discrete.

Merelind grinned against his lips at the telltale sign of his intent. “Then, Gale…” she sighed, her hands fisting into his shirt’s collar, gripping him firmly, “let me bid you goodnight for now. I wouldn’t want to be the reason your reputation for being a gentleman pirate gets tarnished my first night in your service.”

Oh, the way she purred that last word sent a thrill to his belly. The fire in his blood doubled at the implication.

There would be a next time. Another night. And that insinuation was enough motivation to part from her smooth, supple lips. “I don’t know how you do it, Merelind, but I am bound to your spell. Very well,” he sighed. “The promise of a good night to you, and… how about clothes of your own in the morning?”

The Siren in his arms made no move to depart at first. She just leaned in and kissed his scarred and bearded cheek. “Until morning, then, Gale,” her tongue caressed his name. Her eyes bright and shining like jewels, a hand to cup his cheek as she leaned in to press her forehead to his. Not a kiss. But something so much more intimate and enthralling and, dare he think it… magical.

He could have whined as she stood and left him. His heart ached almost as much as his aroused and untouched cock as she disappeared among the bedrolls and slipped into one.

Blood rushed in his ears. He needed to get away from here. To give that sweet siren space as she had asked. He was a gentleman yet. And her promises of more were enough for him to use for his imaginings. He needed to find somewhere to be alone, he needed it desperately.

The beach was vast and empty. The crags of rocks sat at such a distance, it would be dawn long before he achieved his much needed release and returned.

His Siren… he wanted her so badly, more than any queen had commanded his heart with her edicts and mandates and cold compromise. He had never felt like this, and he would have suspected some sort of enthralling charm if he had more of his wits about him. But as it was, he was bound for her domain, wading up to his knees into the waves of the sea.

The place that smelled of her, felt like her, cool and fresh on his skin. The waves undulated, a steady rhythm that broke on his body with a force they only made his blood run hotter. Made his cock throb more as he reached a hand to stroke it in his sea-water soaked pants. He slunk one hand under the fabric, easing his aching hard erection out as he started to pump it, the sea level kissing the sensitive flesh.

Gale groaned, the scent of the sea in his nose, the pressure of the waves slamming on his hips… if he closed his eyes he could imagine the hand around his cock was cool and dexterous. Lithe fingers starting to stroke him, a set of faintly glowing gem toned eyes staring at him with matching want. Just as she had moments ago.

Of course a beach in front of his crew was not the time nor place to ravage her like the beautiful creature she was. But the sight of her in his coat, the mix of his scent from it on her pretty, tanned and freckled skin… it made his member pulse again even as he stood waist deep in the ocean now.

Like this, he could imagine the wet of the sea was the slick between her pretty legs. Legs he wanted to explore even more than that scaled tail she had born before. His teeth bit into his bottom lip as he picked up speed, hips thrusting to meet his hand as he kept himself in the vision of what it might be like…

No… what it will be like to finally touch her, kiss her, share his desire for her.

He has come so close tonight, and with how hard he was as he bent forward into the spray of the waves, he couldn’t fight the laugh. He had come close tonight, in more ways than one. Leaking into the sea, he couldn’t lose that feeling of her body against his, the hum of magic between them, an attraction he didn’t know if it was lust or more or even if it had anything to do with magic. Was it the way those Netherstones hung perfectly over her soft breasts? Was it the way his own Orb hummed in a frequency that matched her own?

He panted now, feeling that sensation of her touch on his skin, her taste on his lips. Intoxicating and impossible to forget.

“Merelind,” he murmured to the waters of her home. Their slapping on his body was like the riding of a pretty female body taking his heated cock oh so good for him. His breathing grew rough. His hand ached from closing around his shaft so snugly. A rough cry on his lips, a flash of her pretty freckled face in his imagination, and he spurted into the sea. The waves lapped his spend away, and like hells he wished it was her walls or her mouth. Next time…

Sea spray in his face, dark hair lined with grey and drying from the salt in the water, Gale caught his breath. With a tug, he pulled up his trousers and waded back to shore. Spent. Satisfied for now, he spared himself a glance to the sleeping camp of his crew.

He swore he could hear her humming in her sleep. With one last glance into the heavens, the dark that glittered with stars almost as bewitching as her eyes, he made it to an empty bedroll on the edge of the camp. Flopping down, he passed out asleep, skin still damp with the seawater, his heart thumping softly…

Until a shriek roused him from his sleep.

Still damp, he flung himself to his feet, sleepy eyes scanning the camp. A cluster of bodies in the center of camp made his heart leap to his throat.

It was right where his Siren had bedded down.

He had to fight not to call for her, to cry out only to be soothed at the sound of her musical voice.

But the second he pushed into the ring of people, he was aching he had left her at all.

Merelind stood over a body, the scent of metal heavy in the air. Her face was spotted with freckles and blood. Her body was wrapped in his jacket still and even that was sloshed in crimson. That new bard, Alfira, at her feet, mauled to a point past recognition, even Gale cowered at the brutality.

Astarion and Karlach had her hands bound behind her, their eyes narrowed and accusatory at… him. Their captain. The one who let a murderous sea monster into their ranks. The ire in their eyes was enough to stop him, and Gale froze in his tracks. “Ummm I’m going to say something we are all thinking. Was this your doing, Merelind?” he looked into those jewel toned, mismatched eyes. They looked so… sad. Ashamed.

She just looked up at him pleadingly. “Yes, but it’s not what you think. I… woke up like this…” her musical voice trembled as the pale hand on her right shoulder clenched. Astarion pressed her towards Gale, hissing in her ear, “And I wake up looking this good every day. Talk, Siren. Why did you kill Alfira?”

Gale looked at the body, mangled and torn apart, and then he looked at Merelind. Fear. That’s what she reeked of.

Her head hung low as she gave in. “I don’t know what happened. I woke up as they found me, standing over my friend, bloodied and elbow deep in gore. I don’t recall anything once I bid you that goodnight.”

Oh, slightly incriminating against him, but Gale fought to keep his brown and milky eyes narrowed. Hard. Trying to look like the ambitious and yet fair captain he had been known to be. “It’s the curse, isn’t it. Your magic demands a death, and your curse urged you to take it. It follows with the nature of my own Netherese Blight.” For a moment, he caught himself. The flash of pity, of the feeling he’d found another suffering soul just like his… wanting to help her, not to condemn her. But he couldn’t. Not in front of the crew. “What you’ve done is gravely concerning,” he pulled out his sternest voice, but it wasn’t enough for the pale elf.

“Concerning?” Astarion scoffed. “Gale, the way you think purple is an acceptable color for every occasion is concerning. This was murder. Your fishy fuck toy gut the new Tiefling like she was the special in the local butcher shop.” Then the elf bared his fangs down at the prisoner. “She should get the same, curse or no curse,” he hissed, letting his vampirism show, a rare occasion. “At the very least, we should concern ourselves with getting our ship off this wretched spit of land, take the Netherstones from her neck, and get that Crown.”

“I can free your ship!” Merelind interrupted with a jolt. “And you cannot kill me, nor take the Netherstones from my neck, lest you be cursed and trapped on this island.”

“A likely story,” Astarion hissed down at her, hand closing harder on her rope-bound hands behind her back

Gale exhaled hard, pulling his blade from the top of his boot. “Bring her here,” he barked. And in reply he just got a pair of mismatched eyes widening in fear. He pursed his lips, as if he were shushing her silently.

The wicked, fanged leer down at her from the Vampire spoke to every bit of his crew’s anticipation. They wanted blood for blood.

Gale took her arms, turning her back to him.

With her hair, her neck, this close to him, he had to fight the thoughts in his head. Holding her by those ropes on her wrists, their bodies crashing like the waves he had pleasured himself to last night. Shaking his head, he pressed the blade to the side of her neck. But there was no pressure behind it. Still, he demanded in exacting tones, “And just how will you free my ship from these cursed sands?”

Merelind gasped, and he could feel her pulse against his blade. “My magic can control the seas, the waves. I am one with them on this island.” She paused, her voice lowering a little in tone. “They speak to me of happenings in their depths, goings and… comings.”

She knew. Damned siren magic. Gale kept his control, pulling on those bound wrists like he’d been craving. “Vow you’ll free our ship and I’ll spare your life. But you’ll be under careful watch. Mine. Until we see fit to release you, Siren.” He made a show of dragging the cool steel of his blade on her freckled neck. “Agreed?”

Merelind nodded. "Agreed, Captain,” she sighed, a wave of visible relief from her accord.

“Hope you don’t regret such a vague agreement, Siren,” Astarion jeered, a smirk on his pale face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Lots of room for interpretation and application…” His smile of a sneer matched the crew. Gale looked around, knowing he had to tread carefully.

“Send Tara aboard with one watch of sailors. Make ready to put to sea once more.” Gale’s command felt forced to him. He wanted his ship free of course, wanted to weigh anchor and make for the bounding main to break his curse. But for once, there was another something, someone, on his mind he wanted more.

And he needed to work through this… set back… with Alfira. To protect her. Cursed as she was, to him she was his blessing.

She had saved his life, her curse had forced her hand to take another’s. A sense of duty bloomed in his heart as they watched from the shore as the ship made preparations to be freed from its sand bar prison.

The sun climbed higher, and still he kept her before him. Those freckled hands bound, she waited. The sea breezes tossed her hair, little golden tendrils dancing on the wind. Then…

Boom!

A cannon fired. The single that the ship was prepared to launch, once the sea and sand released its hold on the beached vessel of course.

Gale put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, Merelind. Uphold your end of the parlay, and I’ll uphold mine.”

“To make me your prisoner?” she murmured in a voice so low, it was meant for his ears alone.

“If you think so little of me that I would kiss you goodnight and kill you in the morning, then it’s fortunate we are about to have heaps of time to get to know one another. Just the two of us.” With that, he brought his blade to her wrists and cut her loose. “Free the ship, Merelind.”

Her body turned slowly, and Gale could feel every crew member’s eyes on them, the ones who remained on shore. Her eyes were bright, blue like the sea, crimson like blood.

“Yeah! Show us what you can do, Killer!” Karlach bellowed, elbowing Astarion in the shoulder.

“Mm, Killer? Well, I suppose I’ve been called worse,” the Siren commented with a ring of amusement. She didn’t even look at the ship behind her, nor the sea. She merely lifted one hand, whorls of water suddenly appearing to braid and circle around it.

Slowly, the tide rose, but only as a wave under the ship. It pitched from its scuppers, its keel afresh under the surface, and slowly the vessel dragged on the water back to the deep. Distant cries and shouts of excitement echoed from the Tara’s decks.

Merelind gave the most smug and arrogant grin with her pointed teeth. As she lowered her hand, her magic dismissed, and the crew onshore fell silent.

It was an awed and heavy silence. One where Gale’s own mismatched eyes met hers, his gaze locked and burning with a need to see more of her power. He licked his lips as if he could taste the magic in the air from her. “Well then, Merelind. A bargain is a bargain,” he crooned as he put a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the waterline. One glance over his shoulder and he started to bark our orders. “Stow the cargo and supplies brought on shore. Prepare to weigh anchor at the hour, and… have the tiefling’s effects sent to my cabin.”

She walked with such ease for a Siren, not a shred of resistance as they made it to the jolly boat to board the ship. His coat hung loose from her lithe shoulders, her bloodied skin washed clean as she waded back into the sea around the rowboat. Settling across from him inside the vessel, she barely looked intimidated. In fact, she grinned and leaned on the bulkhead with her elbow. “So… Captain, what do you plan to do with me? Obviously you know better than to take my Netherstones by now, unlike your crew.”

“Oh, after that impressive display to free my ship? Why, I am a gentleman, and I hold to my bargain. You’ll be my guest in my cabin, and I’ll not lay a finger on your pendant or on you.” His smile twisted rakishly as he shoved off from the shore. “Not unless you ask me to.”

He watched as her freckled cheeks flushed, her eyes grew bright. And his smile twisted more. She wanted him as much as he longed for her, coveted her. “If you did, you’ve seen my magic, experienced it first hand. I am not without my defenses.”

Oh, she was sparing, that glimmer in her mismatched eyes spoke volumes to the games of power and teasing she aimed to play. Gale pulled on the oars harder. Eager to get her to his ship. To stow her safely behind closed doors like the precious treasure she was to him. But he couldn’t help but to fire back. Always one for a challenge that piqued his ambitions. “Oh yes, those hands and their skilled movements. Surely you know the magic they conjured looked delicious.”

A smile crept over her lips, and a matching one curled on Gale’s, a smile that crooked on itself more with each pull of the oars.

Oars that drove them closer to his ship.

To his cabin.

His domain. Not hers.

Thank you to my girlies @nyx-knox and @redisbetterr

[pursuitseternal]

“Weavebound:” Merelind x Gale Dekarios

Thank you @aristenfromwarsaw for my lovelies.

[pursuitseternal]

Wip whenever

Sorry I’ve been MIA

Thank you for the wip tags @arachnomancer @paganwitchisis and whoever else 🥹

I’m almost done with the update for “Blessed by a Curse:” aka Pirate Gale x Siren Merelind

Tagging too: @nyx-knox @redisbetterr @kowashites @sacredsymbol821 @faunsnoctuary @pinkberrytea @scrapsovereign @obsessedwhyyes @hellethil @roguishcat @optimisticgrey

[pursuitseternal]

❤️🩵 𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒢𝒶𝓁𝑒-𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒'𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓎🩸🌹

to my beloved Durge, Merelind, Gale's Rose, Astarion’s Darling, and my alter ego...

"Shall I compare thee..." sonnet 18 by the Bard for my bloody Bard, Merelind