#I wanted to go back to Baldurs Gate that day but I had a major renaissance of pure love for AC | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baldursgat3 · 6 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not yet. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

"I want you to destroy Wyll Ravenguard."

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was supposed to be perfect, anyway.

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They won't say anything.”

“How can you-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #will also admit i was playing a little fast and loose with astarions power its fine

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tallymonster · 6 months

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Memories of Us

Chapter 1 (you are here!) || Masterlist

So, I like many others had seen this gorgeous fan art by @cheesy-cryptid and I was utterly hypnotized by it. I couldn't stop thinking about it and from that constant thought growing came my silly fic.

This has been a labor of love for the last month. I'm still working on it and so far I have about 10 parts 🙃 depending on the feedback is how quickly I'm going to be posting since it's still a work in progress. I want to thank my best friend and my main support for this @micropoe10 ❤️ without her I wouldn't have pushed myself to even post this, so thanks boo 😘

This is also my first long fic, so please be gentle 🥺

Summary: Octavia is a new assistant at the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, her new boss is elusive and mysterious. Good thing his right hand man, Gale, is there to help her out for the first few weeks.

Tags: Nothing too bad for the first few parts, fluff, establishing storyline mostly, generational lineage mentioned.

Chapter 1

Never Caught My Breath

The day Octavia was incredibly nervous about had arrived. After her graduation (which seemed like a lifetime ago), endless stack of paperwork and at least 3 different interviews; Octavia made it to the Baldur's Gate Museum of History, the end of her long and difficult studies.

Here, she would start as the new assistant curator. What's strange though, is that after the last interview she thought she'd get to meet her boss, but it was his main assistant, Gale.

"I must apologize", he begins, "but our lead is currently out of the office for another week, maybe two, so I must conduct the final round, I hope you understand."

Strange, but not unheard of. The majority of the work would be with Gale directly, but it was at the least, the most basic courtesy for her boss to introduce himself by this point.

As she walks into the museum, relics from the past line the cabinets; old armor and gloves from heroes of legends from long ago, tons of jewelry and books, rare spell scrolls, and most prized of all, paintings recovered from the fall of the Szarr Manor prominently hung on the walls. Their subjects long gone, they now serve to be viewed by those who would be their victims under different circumstances.

Octavia stops at one of the many paintings of a pale elf, his silver hair in perfect tendrils, piercing red eyes glare back at her and she feels a slight shudder run down her spine, it was probably just a little bit of nerves. Still, she couldn't help but notice that same subject surrounding her in other works. If not as the main feature, but in the background of at least a dozen. Who was this person? She drifts off in thought.

"Miss Octavia? Hello? Can you hear me?" Snapping back from the daydream, she sees Gale standing beside her. His positive attitude ever present, notebook in hand he greets her with a small wave. "Lots to do this morning! We got a delivery of religious artifacts from a Sharran temple in the Underdark that was previously thought to be lost." His eyes glimmer with excitement.

"We're looking at at least a day to see what was delivered, another to catalog it all, and then, my favorite part, writing the plaques for all of it." He chuckles "Altogether at least a month of work, maybe two if there's a particular item that's more mysterious than the others." He finishes his explanation with a tilt of his head.

Octavia nods, her mind still on the portrait, "Quick question, Gale? Do you know who that subject is? They're featured in a lot of the paintings, but there's no information about them?" He glances up, "Well, we've done some research into the subjects of all the paintings, luckily we've put some names to faces..." He trails off, brows furrowing slightly at the face staring at them both "that particular subject, though, unfortunately not."

He turns wearing a wistful smile "I do wish to put a name to that face, and I intend to, but our wonderful curator often reminds me that not every mystery has to be solved." He scoffs with a grin and shrugs "Of course he would, he loves to give me a hard time about my dedication to the museum, you'd think he would appreciate the tireless research but to each their own."

Octavia relaxes a bit and ask "Have you known each other long? I mean, since he's been gone this whole time I haven't gotten to meet him yet. Is he....nice?" She says the last word quietly, almost a whisper.

Gale picks up on the anxious question and lowers his notebook, his eyes softened as he leans in, "There's nothing to be nervous about with him, he's much more bark than bite, as they say. He's really wonderful once you get to know him. Just a little rough around the edges...you know these eccentrics..they're all so guarded but deep down, they're just like us regular boring people."

He grins in assurance and goes back to his notebook, "Before I forget, said eccentric has reached back out to me and he'll be returning tomorrow evening! He'd like to make your acquaintance as soon as possible and apologize for his absence." Oh, shit. "Wonderful!" She does an okay job at hiding the crack in her voice, she clears throat, grimaces a bit and adjusts the badge clipped to her smock. "When and where?"

#bg3 #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x oc #long fic #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #astarion bg3 #fic: memories of us

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dearasteria · 9 months

Text

Major Gale romance SPOILERS below, so please DO NOT read and watch if you don't want to get spoiled.

I was REALLY worried about how romance with Gale would go, especially after talking to him right after he gets Karsas' book. My Tav wanted to believe and trust him, but something didn't feel right. At the end of Act II, when Tav tries to convince him not blow himself up for his ex's forgivness/to save Faerûn, it can be summed up with that one gif from Grey's Anatomy: "So pick me. Choose me. Love me" 🤡. Honestly, she asks not only to choose her, but also not to kill her and the rest of the team. Gale is so easily swayed and tells Tav that he loves her, even more than Mystra. Tav should be happy, right? But I'm like WAIT A DAMN MINUTE, it was faaar too easy, I mean, no protests from him, I didn't even have to use persuasion to convince him. At that point, after the trauma that Bioware had caused us with Anders and Solas, I'm getting paranoid. Gale doesn't love Tav, he's definitely hiding something. But I'm thinking to myself, "Okay, calm down, he just doesn't want to die, super understable. Maybe he really loves her and he needed to hear it? He needed reassurance that he has something to live for? Yes, it must be it". But then I go to the quest journal and see this:

DAMMIT GALE, you snake 🐍 My poor baby Tav (especially since the romance scene in Waterdeep was so warm and tender). She's so in love in him. Now I'm convinced that he will definetly betrey us, stubs us right in the heart.

At the beginning of Act III, he becomes obsessed with a book called The Annals of Karsus that may help him learn more about the crown. He becomes obsessed with how powerful he can become. When Tav gives him the book and says, "We already know the crown's dangerougs. Wouldn't that make things worse?" he replies:

"Worse? It could be the best thing that ever happened to me. To us."

After all this, Gale tries to convince Tav to help him reconstruct the crown. We have this beautiful scene on the boat and when I tell you my jaw dropped. HE CHOOSES TAV, listens to her concerns and simply chooses her.

The way he says it, the way he corrects himself… damn. For Tav, it's like a bucket of cold water. And I'm like, "Here we go again" 🤡

Furthermore, when we visit the Stormshore Tabernacle in Baldur's Gate and interact with Mystra's statue, he seems to feel so uncomfortable, he doesn't want to be there. Tav starts to think he's definitely hiding something. She would like to hear Mystra's version of what happened between her and Gale (I hope we can talk to her at some point in the game, it would be very interesting).

My Tav, however, disagreed, and Gale replies, "I hope you're right. I truly do. Godly power, perhaps I can live without, but you? You're everything". Has the curse of dating mages that leave players heartbroken been broken?

But I have to admit, when he said: "With you, I forget my goddess. I love you. Tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you want what I want. Please" - OH GODS 😳. I was so close to agreeing to this madness. The VA did an amazing job (side note: so many talented VAs in this game, it's mind blowing), the writing is amazing, the music is incredible, I was blown away, really.

Next day, after the boat scene, he's so adorable and full of love for Tav. Then I remembered his gratest flaw (for me it's more like his biggest fear) from the scene with Zethino in the circus: "He thinks he, and the world, might be better off if he were dead". At the time I thought he was lying, manipulating Zethino and his answers. My distrust of mages in games… Yes, I have a problem 😅

I haven't finished the game, but I have high hopes for a happy ending. No spoilers please, thanks :)

What a rollecoster of emotions, I love it, I love Gale. It felt like I was playing Dragon Age: Origins for the first time, way back when I was a teenager. It's really insane how this game makes me feel, how much I care about its characters and story.

EDIT: Okay, so we have an audience with Mystra, I mean only Gale, but we see the whole conversation between them. My only complain is that Gale doesn't mention Tav when Mystra asks him why he defied her 💔 The outcomes are different depending on whether you do it before or after the boat scene. Personally, I think doing the boat scene before meeting Mystra is much better. I get the impression that Gale is abandoning the plan to reconstruct the crown solely for Tav and his love for her. And the drama 👌🏻 it gives me life.

#sorry for the wall of text #ignore my rambling #the thing is i'm very excited and none of my friends play bg3 and my husband can't listen to me anymore 🤭#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #bg3 spoilers #Gale #gale of waterdeep #gale romance #might delete later #Tav #gale bg3

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thedreamlessnights · 4 months

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Foul Little Thing

Summary: Astarion adopts a cat. Or, rather, the cat adopts him.

Warnings: Post-BG3. Major spoilers for BG3 Act III. Mentions of Cazador and trauma recovery, as well as starvation and animal malnourishment.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone! Here's a soft, short little story that I hope will warm your heart. Enjoy!

Since the loss of the tadpole, Astarion has been forced back to the misery of seeing the world in shades of grey.

He misses the other aspects of the sun, of course. The golden light that had warmed his skin for the first time in two centuries. The freedom to traipse around wherever he pleased without the fear of burning to a crisp. The plain normalcy of it - as if, for a moment, he could pretend he wasn’t what he was. All of that has been lost, too.

Most of all, though, what he misses is the color.

Darkvision serves its purpose: he can see what he needs to, and nothing more. There’s no joy to it. The washed out grey of life is as dull as wine tastes to him now. Once, that wine had been rich, heady, and sweet on his tongue. Two centuries ago. A life he can barely remember. Similarly, once - more recent than the wine - Baldur’s Gate had been a kaleidoscope of colors, rather than a myriad of loss.

In the light of day, Baldur’s Gate is a number of things. Sweet wrappers at a candy shop, glistening green and pink and blue, like the sky. Beautiful gowns on display in the windows, constructed from pearlescent silks, embroidered with an amount of skill even Astarion had to admire. The ocean’s deep blue in the distance, and the buildings painted in shades he’d almost forgotten existed. If he closes his eyes, he can see it now; he can make believe that it’s still there any time he wants it, that shining jewel of a city.

His for the taking.

Somewhere deep down, he knows he’d done the right thing in turning down the Ascension, but it doesn’t take away the sting of what he’s lost. He can no longer stroll into houses uninvited or walk through running water without it burning like acid, and if Cazador were still alive, he’d most certainly be vulnerable to his compulsions.

Some nights are worse than others in the aftermath of it all, but tonight is particularly bad. His chest seems to have filled itself with lead. The air is bitter and frigid, as it tends to be in the months approaching winter. Even the clouds above are a dull shade of grey - no silver moonlight to curb their gloom.

His ears feel iced over in the exposure, but he can’t force himself to go back home. Not yet, at least. Not even for the warmth of the pleasant little room he’s made for himself. His feet drift over the cobblestone, barely making a sound. The wind howls, tousling his hair as it sweeps past. Even this late, it’s rare to find the streets so empty, but they’re practically deserted now. Everyone else must have turned in, seeing the state of the sky.

If Astarion wasn’t so restless, he’d join them. If visions of Cazador’s cruelty weren’t blurring across the edges of his vision, he’d already be at home, tucked away with a book and enjoying his freedom.

More than anything else, this is what seems the most unfair: that Cazador can be dead - really, truly dead, and by Astarion’s hand - and yet still haunt him. Those scars and the memory of them being carved will forever mark his back and his mind. If he could see his reflection, it would be fangs and red eyes that greeted him, not… whatever color they used to be. And, on the worst days, the bastard is ingrained in Astarion’s thoughts, faded commands echoing against the shielded corners of his skull.

As a cutting gust of wind blows past, Astarion stirs from his thoughts, and finds himself almost home - just a few more minutes, and he’ll be there. His feet have started the path without him realizing. He can’t quite decide whether or not he’s grateful, or if stepping inside will make it worse, but it does seem gloomier than before, somehow. He picks up his pace.

Is it more grey than usual?

As if in response to his thoughts, there’s a bone-rattling rumble of thunder overhead, and the sky begins to pour rain. There’s not even a precursory drizzle, a light mist, a warning to give him time to run. No, instead it strikes down in a blow of icy water, soaking him straight to the bone and drenching his best boots.

“Oh, for the love of…” he sighs, throwing his arms out at his sides. He can feel his hair pressing flat to his scalp, undoubtedly a mess that will take ages to tame. He’s just started internally bemoaning the hours lost to fixing the extent of the rain’s damage when he hears a noise. Even worse, something rubs against his leg.

Astarion has always been one for instinct. Immediately, he’s leaping away, brandishing his favorite dagger - curled fingers ready to bury the hilt in a new home. Then, he sees his enemy. No enemy at all, really. A scrawny little beast, soaked just as he is, all wet fur and dirty paws and pathetic eyes that stare up at him. He can see the creature’s ribs.

The cat lets out a pitiful meow, and he can’t help but grimace at the sight of it.

“Shoo,” he says, but it doesn’t understand him. Instead, the wretched creature begins to purr, once again nuzzling against his now-sopping boots. The rain has made its way into his socks, and it’s almost more than he can bear. “Go on,” he says, louder this time, gritting his teeth against the discomfort. He has no time to deal with animals, and this thin, mangy stray is the last thing he needs at the moment.

It once again doesn’t listen, though. Instead, when he moves to press on, it follows him. Past the butcher’s shop, past the town hall, past the graveyard. “Oh, go on. Shoo!” he says again and again, as if one of these times the cat will take the hint.

It doesn’t.

It follows him all the way to his home, and when he shuts the door in its face, it sits on the doorstep and waits. Astarion knows it waits, because even after he’s peeled away all of his dripping-wet clothes, he can hear the weak pulse of its heartbeat outside the door.

“Foul little thing,” he mutters, but he can’t get the image of it outside of his head. Scrawny, weak, pathetic. It’s the last thing he needs. What’s he supposed to feed it? Blood? His house is empty, save bad wine. Even he knows that won’t do.

His gaze shifts to the nearby counter, and his brows rise in shock. As it turns out, he does have something. He’d been recently gifted a loaf of bread from a grateful contractor, unaware of his true nature, and he hadn’t bothered to throw it out yet. Cats can have bread, can’t they?

Or, perhaps they can’t. Maybe, in trying to help, he’ll end up killing it. It’s just the sort of thing that would happen to him.

Still…

“Gods above,” he mutters, casting a hand over his eyes. The sound of that pulse is driving him mad.

After a moment more of internal debate, he wraps himself in a warm, comfortable robe, fluffs out his hair as much as he can, and swings open the door. Just as he’d known it would be, it’s there, staring at him in silence. Sitting on the rain-soaked porch.

“Oh, all right,” he sighs, standing back to let it in. “Come in, then.”

The cat tilts its head, then rises to its feet, tail rising straight up. Then it starts to circle around him, purring as it nuzzles against him once more - brushing against his newly-dry legs and covering them in soggy rain water and who knows what else.

“Just wonderful,” he mutters.

Yet, for all he’s heard about the temperament of cats, this one isn’t so bad. It sits still as he dries it off with an old towel, only letting out a single yowl of complaint. It eats the bread up with no hesitation, and the nip it gives Astarion’s fingers barely stings. When he finally turns in for the night, it curls up next to the fire to sleep, and when he rises from his trance, it hasn’t made a complete mess of things.

It’s much too thin; this he knows. The hunger present in its visible ribs and weak movement is a feeling he’s all too familiar with. It’ll have to wait until the sun sets again, when he’ll be able to venture out and purchase some decent food. Yes, the basics of this little beast - hunger and exhaustion - are well known to him.

Everything else, however, is all too new. He should name it, shouldn’t he? He’s not very creative with these things. And it needs some form of bed, doesn’t it? Gods, he’s surely not meant to be in charge of anything like this. Taking care of himself is difficult enough as it is.

For a moment, he even considers reaching out to Gale. After all, the wizard had mentioned owning a cat, once, hadn’t he? Knowing him, he’s almost certainly an expert on the subject. Still, the thought of asking for advice is enough to turn Astarion away from it.

No, he thinks. He’ll handle this on his own.

Once the sun has gone down and Astarion is ready to start his nightly activities, he readies his supplies and slips his favorite dagger back into its sheath, intending to give the new occupant a few stern words about not breaking his valuables. As soon as he pushes the door open, though, the cat slides past his legs and darts away.

Astarion stares after it, an uncomfortable feeling churning in his gut as the black silhouette of its fur fades into the distance. “Well,” he says after a moment. “I suppose that’s that, then.”

After a brief internal deliberation, he heads off.

Work goes smoothly, as usual. Astarion gets his fill of blood before the vagrant dies, sating his hunger - but, for some reason, he can’t stop thinking about that stupid cat. He even, gods forbid, buys a few fish off the docks of Wyrm’s Crossing, and all the way home, the smell of them is nearly unbearable. He’s not sure if the cat will be back, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.

Sure enough, as soon as he’s approached the doorway, there it is again - running in from the nearby park, circling around his legs and purring.

“Go on, then,” he says, swinging open the door. The cat’s tail rises and it enters, making itself at home in front of the fire.

Astarion takes one of the fish from the pouch and places it on one of his decorative plates, setting it on the floor. The little beast eats it up within seconds. The second fish is gone just as quickly, and the third follows soon after. Clearly, he’ll need to get more food than that in the future.

Then he attempts to make it a bed, fluffing up a spare pillow and blanket, but it won’t even lie on it. Instead, it blatantly ignores his hard work, jumps up on Astarion’s bed, and curls up into a ball - apparently meaning to nap.

Oh, who is he fooling? He has no idea what he’s doing. At this rate, it’ll be dead within a week, and his house will reek of fish. Not to mention his new sheets, and the havoc that will undoubtedly be wreaked upon them.

Letting out a long sigh as he internally admits defeat, Astarion takes a seat at his desk and begins to compose a letter.

Gale Dekarios

Waterdeep,

Western Heartlands

After all, he thinks, leaning back in his seat, there is nothing Gale loves more than talking about his knowledge.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion fic #mywriting

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leighsartworks216 · 6 months

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Somethin' Stupid (Songfic)

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Requested by Cat103005 on ao3:

“I was wondering if you could do a fic based on the song Somethin' Stupid by Frank Sinatra. The song has been giving me major brain worms recently and it's just such a soft song that I can't stop thinking about Astarion when I listen to it.”

THIS IS ONE OF MY FAV SONGS!!! I literally have it in so many character playlists and I just love it so damn much. It's not the plot I went with here, but I like to imagine a bard Tav singing it at a tavern and Astarion slowly realizing they're singing about him 🥺

The lyrics are in italics, but if they're hard to separate from the regular text let me know and I can bold them or put up dash barriers ✌️

Warnings: alcohol, referenced alcohol consumption, mentions of manipulation, slight hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,442

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

I know I stand in line

Until you think you have the time

To spend an evening with me

And if we go someplace to dance

I know that there’s a chance

You won’t be leaving with me

Astarion watched with keen interest as you twirled around the campfire, hand-in-hand with a tiefling. Your cheeks were flushed, from alcohol or merriment, he couldn’t tell. You laughed and spun and twirled and reveled in your victory.

He would have to make a move at some point before the day is out. You usually went around to greet everyone or say goodnight; he’d just have to wait until then. While he waited, nursing a disgusting bottle of cheap wine (if it could even be called wine), he thought up lines that always worked on the others he’d lured in before.

That was the easy part. Now he just needed you to fall for them.

Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place

And have a drink or two

And then I go and spoil it all

By saying somethin’ stupid like, “I love you”

I can see it in your eyes

That you despite the same old lies

You heard the night before

And though it’s just a line to you

For me it’s true

And never seemed to right before

Your pupils dilated, your smile stretched wide, your heart still beat quickly in your chest. With each flattering remark past his lips, you only seemed to glow more. “You’re sweet,” you said, “and sillier than I thought.”

He grinned, sly and seductive. “I can go on all night with the flattery,” he promised, “but is that really all you want? How about if I said these little words… Everyone’s favorite…”

He paused, and his mind raced within the second of time. A flood of feelings within his chest, thick and uncertain. A horde of questions asking why saying it this time felt worse than it used to. But once the second ticked away, so did the thoughts.

“I love you.”

Your smile dulled ever so slightly. Your eyes softened, but not with affection. He couldn’t place exactly how they looked at him. You were still enjoying yourself, he knew that much, but something had changed.

“Having fun, are you?”

He laughed, unexpected even to himself. “I am, it’s hard not to with you.” He cleared his throat. “Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favorite lines at you, I’d much rather we got to experience each others’ full portfolio of talents once again.”

You giggle softly at his phrasing. Even in the dull light he can see you flush; practically feel the heat radiating off your body. But you shake your head. “I’m sure we will get another chance soon. But…” You offer him a sweet smile. “Not right now.”

“I look forward to the day.” He smiles back, surprised to find he finds he actually believes it. “Meanwhile, my hunger for you will only deepen.”

I practice every day

To find some clever lines to say

To make the meaning come through

But then I think I’ll wait

Until the evening gets late

And I’m alone with you

Of everything Astarion could have possibly anticipated on this journey, he never thought… Well, he never believed he could ever fall in love. It was a rough tumble, like he’d been shoved down a steep hill, rolling all the way down to the bottom, but he’d fallen, nonetheless. And for you, of all people.

It was a little embarrassing. He’d put in all this effort to have you fall for him, so you’d never turn around and stab him in the back. And here he was, staring longingly across the camp as you played with Scratch, tossing his ball and cooing and praising every time he brought it back. It was silly. He felt like a complete and utter fool. But… he didn’t mind it. At least, not as much as he thought he would.

Instead of searching across a dingy bar for another victim to lure back and give his body to, he watched as you so unknowingly, and yet so gently, cradled his soul within your hands. Whatever he has left of a soul, anyway.

Scratch fetched the ball, but trotted around you and over to Halsin, where he plopped into the druid’s lap and settled in for the night. You had a stupid, beaming smile on your face. And then you turned and saw him, and your smile got impossibly wider. If he had a heart, it would have burst. You lightly jogged over until you stood right in front of him.

The time is right, your perfume fills my head

The stars get red, and, oh, the night’s so blue

And then I go and spoil it all

By saying somethin’ stupid like, “I love you”

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.”

Your face falls instantly into a concerned frown. He misses your smile already. “Are you alright?”

He huffs a weak laugh. “Oh, yes, I’m fine! I just…” He frowns, unable to keep up the charade. “Feel awful. Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy… Instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it… And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.” He studies your face, searching for rejection. He wouldn’t blame you. But you just look at him with such open, welcoming eyes, worried and attentive. “You… You’re incredible. You deserve something real… I want us to be something real.”

You offer him a smile, but your brow is still tight with worry. “So do I,” you assure him. “More than anything.”

He grimaces. He wishes things were that easy. “I just don’t know what ‘real’ looks like. Not after two hundred years of playing the rake.” He sighs. It’s hard to pour his heart out like this, to admit to so much and hope you won’t run away. He still half-expects you to turn and book it. But you don’t. So he takes a breath and tries to push through the building anxiety. “Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how else to be with someone.” He frowns ruefully. “No matter how much I’d like to.”

Your face softens further. The crease between your brows eases as you carefully take a step forward. “I care about you deeply.”

“Really?”

You nod, but then you step even closer. He doesn’t know how to react, doesn’t even know what you’re doing, until your arms are wrapped around his waist and your head rests on his shoulder. It’s… different, than all the other times he’s been physically intimate with somebody. You don’t grab on like a leech, prepared to suck him dry of his autonomy. No, he knows if he pulled back even slightly, you’d let go. But he doesn’t want you to.

His hands twitched, held out awkwardly from when you stepped forward. And then he lowered them slowly to your back. You were warm. He pressed lightly against your spine, drawing you even closer to him. He leaned forward and pressed his nose against your shoulder, eyes closing almost instinctively. You smelled of campfire smoke and lye soap. It was the best thing he’d smelled in years, because it was you.

After a moment, certainly not long enough, you stepped back. You worried you’d pressed his boundaries too far after his confession, but he only wrapped you up tighter in his arms, pressing his face more insistently against you. He only relaxed again when your hands returned to his lower back, just below his scars. Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his shirt, securing yourself there with him.

“I have no idea what we’re doing,” he admits, a mere whisper by your ear. “But I know that this…” He sighs, content, the happiest he has been for centuries. “This is nice.”

The time is right, your perfume fills me head

The stars get red, and, oh, the night’s so blue

And then I go and spoil it all

By saying somethin’ stupid like, “I love you”

“I love you”

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueen_cosplay @yarn_yogi @tototini @teardropcup @ashrio20 @bambamwolf87 @astarion-imagine-archive @thistrashisreadytobash

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heyitsjess-writes · 7 months

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Death Didn’t Seem Quite so Bad a Fate

Astarion x m!Tav

Word count: 3,591 Rating: T

Sequel - You Brought my Dead Heart Back to Life Warnings: Major character death, it's temporary though, depictions of violence and blood, mild cursing, angst Summary: Death was not a new concept for Astarion. When you’re a vampire spawn and you’ve just helped stopped the world from being dominated by a Netherbrain you have both seen and experienced your fair share of death. Death didn’t seem quite so bad a fate when you have a mysterious, undead being freeloading at your camp. Who, for just a small fee, would resurrect any companion you asked for, no questions asked.

Death was not a new concept for Astarion. When you’re a vampire spawn and you’ve just helped stopped the world from being dominated by a Netherbrain you have both seen and experienced your fair share of death. Death didn’t seem quite so bad a fate when you have a mysterious, undead being freeloading at your camp. Who, for just a small fee, would resurrect any companion you asked for, no questions asked. Or if your lover happened to be a cleric who could bring you back as soon as the battle is over. That worked just as well, too. No, death didn’t seem that bad at all when you had those options in your back pocket. Except now, the Netherbrain had been defeated and their small band of friends and allies had all gone their separate ways to continue on their own adventures. Leaving Astarion and Tav alone to begin their own, together.

Now death was suddenly a very real and very terrifying concept.

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

Shaking, blood covered hands desperately clawed at Tav’s armor, trying to remove it to get to the source of the bleeding. A neck wound was a lovely thing, Astarion mused, when it was caused by him during quiet moments of intimacy. But now, as the clatter of heavy armor being tossed aside filled his ears, the wound on his love’s neck was the last thing he wanted to see. He pressed his hands firmly against the wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. Words started coming out of his mouth, unbidden. Words of comfort, gentle menstruations, telling Tav that everything was fine. The bleeding would slow down, they’d get him all patched up and they could go home. They would come back and look for the ring another day. It was all lies, of course. Pretty lies that he refused to admit. The wound was too deep and too close to the carotid artery. Astarion felt the blood gushing around his fingers, causing his hands to slip as he tried to keep the wound covered as blood pooled on the ground. He heard his love’s labored breathing start to become wet and blood began speckling his lips. Tav’s eyes found Astarion’s, once bright and full of life now glazed and fevered as his life slipped away. Tav’s lips moved, as if he was trying to say something but no sound came. Astarion watched in silent horror as Tav’s eyes lost focus, the last speck of life dimming as his head rolled to the side, body becoming limp under his hands.

A broken scream filled the air as Tav exhaled his final breath.

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

“Is that what you want? Is this what you want? I would understand if you wanted to go your own way,” Astarion asked Tav. The two of them stood in the room Tav still had rented out in the Elfsong Tavern. The Netherbrain had been defeated only a few days prior and the citizens of Baldur’s Gate were still picking up the pieces after their lives were nearly ended by mind flayers and cultists alike.

Moonlight filtered through the curtains as Astarion waited for his partner to answer. The two had met up to talk about their future. What was next for them now that the world wasn’t in immediate peril. They had met under extenuating circumstances, grown closer together through shared trials. Now that the world didn’t need them to travel together Astarion needed to know where they stood, so he asked as much. What was next for the two of them? Tav offered to help look for a way to let Astarion walk in the sun again. To go on another adventure together as partners, equals. There was nothing Astarion wanted more than to stay with him, but he needed to make sure that staying with him is what Tav truly wanted. That he wasn’t staying with him out of some sort of obligation. With the tadpoles gone, Astarion belonged to the shadows once more. He would understand if Tav didn’t want to live that life. Being stuck roaming the streets in the dark of night just because his partner could no longer walk in the light of day.

“No, this is what I want,” Tav replied, a soft smile on his face, holding a hand out. Astarion sighed, letting out the breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding.

“Good, because selfless as I am, I really did not want you let you go,” he said, accepting Tav’s hand, pulling himself forward and wrapping his arms around Tav’s waist. “We are rather excellent together, you know. And united, there is nothing we can’t do. I can’t say what the future holds for us, but I know we’ll be facing it together. And we’re going to have a lot of fun.”

And they did have fun. Amidst all the reading and researching, the traveling and socializing with strangers who know a thing or two about rare artifacts. To following any lead they had, no matter how small, or if it led to a dead end. To the quiet, lazy mornings where they were wrapped in each other’s arms, fingers ghosting across bare skin, soft whispers of love and adoration being the only thing to break the silence. To the long nights full of raw passion, the desire to know and feel each other in the most intimate and sacred ways possible. To be connected body and soul in each other’s embrace and satisfy each other in ways only the other knew how. To simply walking hand-in-hand through the night as they traveled from one town to the next. It was all fun to Astarion. It was new, exciting, something he had never dared to dream about when he was under Cazador’s control. But here he was, free, traveling the world with the first person he has truly cared for. The first person who he has truly loved and who, by some miracle, loved him back. Even if all of their adventuring never bore fruit, if they never found a way to help him walk in the sun again, he wouldn’t trade any of it away for the world.

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

Weeks of adventuring turned into months, months turned into years and they were not any closer to finding an artifact that would let Astarion walk in the sun. Once, they had been on the trail of a very promising artifact, the Cloak of Dragomir. It was last known to be in the possession of a vampire named Hexxat but the leads quickly went cold. It was almost as if she had simply vanished into thin air. Astarion didn’t mind though, while the cloak would have been nice it would not have been the same. He wanted to be able to stand out in the sun, arms stretched wide and soak in the rays as they danced across his skin. The same way he did the morning after his first night with Tav. A cloak would not have allowed him to do that. Astarion expressed as much in bed one morning, after the leads went cold for the cloak and Hexxat alike. Head resting on Tav’s chest as he laced his fingers with his partner’s, holding his hand.

“What kind of artifact are you hoping to find?” Tav asked, fingers from this other hand carding through the Astarion’s hair.

Astarion hummed, “Well, if I can get anything I want. How about a ring?”

The elf felt Tav move under him, raising his head a little to look at him. “A ring?”

“Yes, all these years together and you haven’t offered me a single one. I’m slightly offended you know, I thought that you would have tried to propose to me at least once by now Darling,” Astarion said, mock offense in his voice. “If the only way to get you to give me a ring is to have it be magical, then I’ll take it.”

Tav laughed, his chest rumbling underneath Astarion, “Alright Love, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good,” Astarion replied, shifting so he could be face to face with Tav, kissing him.

When Astarion had told Tav he wanted a magical ring to be able to walk in the sun, he hadn’t expected the man to actually find a lead.

“The Ring of the Sun-Walker. It’s said to look just like an ordinary iron band with a ruby inlaid in it. To any normal person that’s all it is, but if it’s worn by a vampire you would no longer take damage from the sun,” Tav said, opening a worn scroll he traded off a rare artifact merchant just that morning and handing it to Astarion.

“Darling, when I asked you to get a magic ring, I assumed you understood that a normal ring would do,” Astarion said, eyes flitting across the page, full of excitement. “But this is even better, where are we heading next?”

The first lead towards the ring was only a tenday journey away, deep into the forest. The merchant Tav got the scroll off of heard that a band of mercenaries were hired to escort and deliver a shipment of valuable, possibly powerful jewelry, to Baldur’s Gate. The most sought-after piece was a simple ring that was rumored to give the wearer unimaginable power. The shipment never arrived to its destination and the band of mercenaries were never heard from again. The group had supposedly decided to take a less traveled path but it would have greatly cut down their travel time, if they had made it. Many treasure hunters had searched the area with no luck of finding any sign of the missing mercenaries or the shipment. Now it was Tav and Astarion’s turn.

The journey to the approximate last location of the mercenaries was relatively uneventful. A couple of owlbear encounters, mingled with some undead here and there. While it was nothing the two of them couldn’t handle, it did take a hit to the supplies that they had brought. While Tav was a cleric, he liked to have some potions of healing and a scroll of resurrection on hand in case things took a turn for the worse. Astarion made light of it every time he saw Tav check their bags before they traveled. This time had been no exception.

“I don’t understand why you insist on bringing all of that with you. It’s just weighing you down since you can do all of that yourself, for free,” Astarion said, gesturing towards the scroll of resurrection on the desk. “You can never be too careful, Love,” Tav replied. “Well, I guess it’s fine. In case, by some ungodly amount of bad luck, I end up having to save you for once,” Astarion joked. “Just make sure that doesn’t happen. I don’t think my heart could take it. Plus, we both know I wouldn’t know a single thing about how to use that scroll. You clerics and bards like to make everything so convoluted.”

Tav had laughed at Astarion’s joke at the time, but he wasn’t laughing now as he set up camp for the night and looked over their remaining supplies. They had enough rations to get them through one more day before they ultimately had to begin the journey back home, hands empty, to restock and try again another time. They had one potion of healing left and the resurrection scroll he had meant to pack away had stayed on the desk at home, forgotten due to Astarion’s jesting during packing.

A snapping of branches under foot brought Tav back to the present as Astarion returned to camp after scouting the area. Before Tav could say anything, the elf was already talking, excited about what he found while out.

“Darling, I found a cave. It was tucked away in a nice little nook, completely taken over by vines and absolutely unassuming. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all if something in the cave hadn’t been glinting in the moonlight. This could be what we’re looking for.”

Tav glanced down at their packs before standing and gathering his weapon and shield. A slight shiver ran down his spine accompanied by a feeling that they were being watched, but he shook it off, “Alright, let’s see what we can find, shall we?”

The cave wasn’t far from where set up camp, but Astarion was right, even if it hadn’t been covered in vines the cave opening would have been hard to notice. It was small and tucked away in small crevice of the rockface. Pushing away the vines, Astarion led the way, eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger before venturing further in. When he deemed it safe, he moved forward, Tav close behind him. The inside of the cave wasn’t anything special on the surface, dark, damp, bones and other debris littering the ground, but Astarion was looking for something specific. His eyes scanned the ground for the item that had drawn his attention to the cave originally. It didn’t take long before he found it, a few feet in and mostly buried in the dirt was a hint of silver. Digging it out he found himself holding a bracelet, a very nice one if it was cleaned up and polished. Definitely something someone of the higher class would appreciate.

“Love look, do you think this could be part of that shipment?” Astarion asked, turning to show Tav his find, but found himself dropping the bracelet instead, eyes widening in surprise. Behind Tav, shrouded in darkness, was a bandit, slinking towards them, dagger ready to strike. They had probably been watching them as soon as they entered the area, following them as they searched, on the hunt for the same treasure as they were.

Tav turned to follow Astarion’s gaze, hand reaching for his weapon but was too slow. The bandit struck, dagger sliding between Tav’s neck and his armor. Striking him just above his collarbone. Tav stumbled backwards, dropping his weapon as his reached up, grasping at his neck. Before the attacker could turn their attention to Astarion, he was already on them. Dagger striking blow after blow in a frenzied rage, ending the bandit before they had a chance to defend themselves. The bandit collapsed to the ground in a crumpled heap, dagger embedded deep in its chest, forgotten, as the elf ran to his partner. Astarion fell to his knees next to Tav as he lay motionless on the ground, blood pooling quickly from the wound in his neck.

“No, nonono, you can’t die here,” Astarion pleaded, hands clawing desperately at Tav’s armor. Shaking fingers finding the clasps and pulled the chest piece away, tossing it unceremoniously to the side.

As soon as Astarion saw the wound his heart sank, there was nothing he would be able to do. The wound was too deep and too close to Tav’s carotid artery for a simple health potion to fix. Tav needed a proper healer and unfortunately the only healer around was the dying man himself. The only thing Astarion could do was put his hands on the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding as best he could. He cursed himself for not accepting Tav’s offer to teach him basic healing spells. He had gotten comfortable. Tav rarely went down in battle. His heavy armor protected him enough that he was always able to heal at the end of a fight. Not once had Astarion thought that one well aimed dagger strike would be what took him down.

“You’re going to be alright Love,” Astarion said, panic tinging his voice. “Everything’s going to be fine. The bleeding will slow and you’ll be able to patch yourself up with that fancy healing magic of yours, alright? We’ll head back home so you can rest up and we can come back another day to look for the ring. I’ve gone this long without being able to walk in the sun. What’s a few more days?”

Astarion’s hands slipped on his lover’s neck, the flow of blood not slowing no matter how hard he tried. Tav’s labored breathing became wet as blood began speckling his lips with each breath out. Astarion watched Tav’s face as the color quickly drained from his cheeks. The pulse under his fingers was beginning to slow and breath was getting shallower. Tav’s eyes found Astarion’s. Once bright eyes were now dull and glazed over. Tav’s lips moved, attempting to form words but no sound came out.

“No Dear, don’t try to speak, conserve your energy, alright,” Astarion pleaded, pressing down harder on the wound as the pulse underneath his fingers continued to slow. Tav let out what could have been a laugh but it ended up being a small huff, a smile formed on his lips just before his head rolled to the side, hand reaching for something before his body went limp.

“No. No damn you! You can’t do this to me, wake up!” the elf cried, cupping Tav’s face between his hands, forcing him to face him. Blood streaked across the cooling skin as Astarion held his lover's face in between his hands. Blank eyes stared up, unseeing. Any life that had been there was now gone.

Astarion screamed. The cry ripping through him, powerful and raw, burning his throat, as he gathered Tav into his arms. Sobs wracked his body as he pulled his lover close. Hands practically tearing the fabric with how tight he was holding on. He doesn’t know how long he sat there, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as he wept. Head buried in his lover’s neck as his hand gently carded through Tav’s hair. Time had stopped for Astarion as soon as Tav had taken his last breath. This was his fault, he told himself. Tav would not be dead in his arms if he had not joked about not being proposed to. If he hadn’t suggested a magic ring as a replacement for a wedding band, Tav would still be here. He should have known that Tav, with his stupidly, beautifully, caring heart, would take it literally. He didn’t care if they were married or not. Being together had always been more than enough for him.

He should have seen this coming. His life had been too good for too long. He was stupid to think that he was allowed to live the rest of his days happy. Now his happiness had been ripped from him without a chance for him to even fight to keep it.

Too absorbed in his grief Astarion didn’t notice the glowing coming from Tav. It wasn’t until Tav’s body jolted in his arms, heaving as he inhaled, followed by coughing as his lungs spasmed at the sudden intake of breath that Astarion sat back. His eyes wide and full of disbelief as looked at his lover, now very much alive in his arms. He took in Tav’s face, still pale, covered in his own blood from where Astarion had held it, but color undeniably flowing back into his cheeks. Astarion’s hands still clutched tightly to the fabric of Tav’s shirt as his eyes wandered lower to Tav’s neck, the place where the fatal wound had been was now smooth. As if the wound had never existed at all. Lower they went still, until they reached Tav’s hands and that’s where he saw it. Held loosely in Tav’s right hand was his weapon.

The Blood of Lathander.

Astarion remembered the day they found it. It was shortly after venturing into the artifact and meeting the being that had been protecting them from the Absolute all those years ago. They found a hidden passage in a side room that lead to the weapon. Tav had insisted that there had to be a way to take the mace safely, but Astarion urged him to just reach out and grab it. What was the worst that could happen? Turns out the building being target by a laser powered by the sun was it. Their group had barely made it out of the creche before it was destroyed. Mace still in Tav’s hand.

Once per day, if the wielder dies in battle, the mace can bring them back to life.

Astarion had never been a religious man. None of the gods and goddesses had answered him when he called out to them during his darkest years, but now he may just turn to Lathander. Even if it was just to ensure the mace never stopped working.

“Hi Love,” Tav whispered, drawing Astarion’s attention back to him. A soft smile adorning his features as he wiped a tear from the elf’s face. “Did you miss me?”

Astarion said nothing. Instead, he cupped the back of Tav’s head and brought him in for a kiss, lips crashing together. It was a desperate kiss, full of fear, anger and most of all, relief. Astarion would have kissed Tav until the end of time if he could, but unfortunately, his lover needed to breath, unlike him. Pulling away Astarion rested his forehead against his Tav’s.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” Astarion hissed, voice and hands shaking as he held Tav close. Afraid if he let go now Tav would simply disappear. “I wouldn’t be able to handle losing you like that again.”

Tav didn’t speak as he wrapped his arms around Astarion. The warm embrace, reassuring the elf that he was there and, as long as Tav had a say, he wasn’t going anywhere.

#astarion x tav #astarion x male tav #astarion x m!tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav

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carryoncastiel · 7 months

Text

Thinking thoughts about Wyll and his story. Two things I've gathered 1. His character has been completely rewritten in developement. 2. General consesus is that something is missing from his story.

Now, I haven't played early access and I don't feel like going through old content so this is just the conclusion I came to playing the game as is plus little mentions of things I saw in tumblr posts.

So Wyll is 17 when Mizora comes to him and makes him sell his soul to defeat Tiamat's cultists that want to destroy Baldur's Gate. In this fight he gets pretty badly injured on his face, losing his right eye and sustaining noticeable scars.

We can assume he went back to his father right after the fight and Ulder seeing his 17 year old son, his only child, missing an eye and probably still bleeding, does not listen to his explanation at all (if Wyll even gets to say anything) (edit: I forgot: Wyll actually tells you that he couldn't tell his father about his pact and he tried to show him the battlefield but there was nothing left to show. Still...what did he think was the reason Wyll made the pact then?) and just banishes him from the city for daring to make a pact with a devil.

After that the story gets a bit murky. Wyll tells you how he saved a boy from goblins and that gave him the calling to be the blade of the people. Throughout the game he will casually mention heroic fights he had and you and the other characters take it at face value because there's nothing telling you you shouldn't believe him - but it also doesn't really lead anywhere storywise. He just is the Blade of Frontiers and he does heroic deeds.

What kept bothering me in my first playthrough is that Wyll will casually flirt with Lae'zel and Shadowheart at the beginning of your journey. And it feels very random. The natural conclusion would've been (for me at least) for him to very obviously flirt with the player character too but he doesn't really do that. You have to ask about the dancing and you have to convince him to get one kiss. Even if he's drawn back for other reasons it still doesn't add up.

And of course once you start romancing him you find out he gets all giddy and blushy after that one short kiss at the party and he's a pure romantic at heart who wants to do this the proper way like the bards sing about in old ballads and he won't do anything beyond kissing until he literally proposes and you say yes. Also if you don't romance him and Lae'zel mentions being interested in him at the party, then next day she will lament that they spend the night together but he literally just wanted to talk (did I mention I love Wyll a lot).

The other thing is what Mizora says when you rescue her from the mindflayer colony. She tells you about asking Wyll how they met and the way she says it made me assume it would make Wyll look really bad. But then you hear the story about him saving Baldur's Gate from cultists and there's nothing bad that Wyll did here (besides selling his soul which duh).

Idk much about early access Wyll as I've said but I think he was supposed to be a huge liar. So I assume that actually Wyll was supposed to have made the pact out of seflish reasons and/or making the pact had major repercussions for other people. If for example innocent people died as a consequence it would also seem a tiny bit more reasonable for Ulder to not want to listen to Wyll's reasoning (still a shitty father move though). Now, he would've still been a 17 year old, a child essentially, getting tricked by a devil into selling his soul without realising the full impact it would have. But he would also feel incredibly guilty about it and then lie about it being his proudest moment that he never regretted to mask that fact.

Then he would go on to create The Blade of Frontiers, this huge legend that does every heroic deed you can think of. The flirting with every pretty woman he meets then also would make more sense in a "that's just what heroic male characters in stories do" way.

He would still be a good and heroic person at heart but some of it would be an exaggerated persona he created out of the guilt and shame of what happened when he made the pact and also the feeling of abandonment he got from his father banishing him.

I like Wyll as he's written now but I'd be lying if I didn't say he's missing some depth and giving him more flaws than just "he made a deal with a devil (out of completely selfless reasons no less)" would make him a more interesting character.

#wyll ravengard #bg3 wyll #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate wyll #bg3 #my thoughts

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bhaalbabebardlock · 1 month

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~ Ruin ~

||One shot, single chapter; 3,859 Words. Reader (f!Tav) x Astarion

Important tags: major character death warning, sad smut, explicit, F/M ||

Masterpost | AO3 Link

Summary:

Five years after walking away from The Vampire Ascendant and everything he offered to you, you've returned to stop him from wreaking havoc on Baldur's Gate. That turns out to be harder than you think.

You let him press you against the wall, his hands coming up under your thighs. Lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist, another echo to when you both didn't know yet what you would become.

Each other's ruin.

Back in those woods, in those early days. As his fingers trailed over your skin for that first time, his eyes wide with lust and desire and an adoration that tasted so sweet, you wanted to hold onto it forever."

Some is under the cut, the full story is linked on my AO3 below.

Tumblr Masterpost | Ruin on A03

**************

Maybe coming here was a bad idea. It had been five years, and you knew you wouldn't find what you were looking for. Not really. Even if it looked like him, it would be a cruel joke. One that you had played on yourself only too many times as you attempted to mask the wreckage he had left behind.

You had left behind.

You're not the man I love anymore.

Good. I would have ruined your love anyways.

You didn't know then how those words would haunt you. How you would lay in your bed at night and when you closed your eyes you would see him leaning forward to kiss you. See him the way he looked when he was bathed in moonlight the night he whispered into your ear that he loved you.

Was he still there? That Astarion? Your Astarion? You didn't know. It was a question you asked yourself every day until the day you left and it was a question you had asked yourself every day since.

He had not kept quiet though, and he was causing havoc in the city. So of course they reached out to you. Everyone was aware of the hero of Baldur's Gate who had walked away from the city, from her title, and from the man who loved her. He had not been peaceful, in his attempt to get you to stay. You had refused him anyway.

You expected hostility maybe, or a cool indifference. What you received instead was almost worse. As you opened that door and stepped into his hall and his eyes found yours, you could feel yourself fighting the urge to run to him. To fall into his arms. Gods. He was just as achingly, painfully beautiful as you remembered. As if he had been carved from stone, a lethal beauty etched into every muscle of his body. His snow white curls perfectly framing his face, the flush of his cheeks as he pulled a smarmy smile at you. It made you want to fall to your knees and tell him how wrong you had been. How much you had missed him.

“Did you miss me that much, darling? Finally come to beg for my forgiveness?” There. There was the reminder you needed that this was not your Astarion. That this was a different man even if he wore your lover's face. Funny, that after half a decade you would still call him your lover, your Astarion. But he always would be, wouldn't he? And in so many ways, you would always be his too.

“Astarion, you've been changing people. Too many people. It hasn't gone unnoticed.” He only smirked back at you.

“Why little love, have you come here to kill me then?” You hadn't. Sort of. You had a little, but you were hoping that you could get away with a warning. That small part of you that hoped he was still in there. You still weren't sure which way you were going to need to go. Could you even convince him that what he was doing was wrong? He had been explicitly clear when he told you he was not the same, that he would never be that weaker version of himself. The version you loved. The version that haunted your dreams in the most deliciously painful way possible. This is a gift, you know.

You wondered what might have been different if you hadn't helped him ascend that day. If you had listened to yourself when you looked into his thoughts and saw how afraid he was. That this was desperation and a brute desire to break his chains, and that maybe there had been a better way. Maybe you didn't save him after all, even though that was all you wanted.

Maybe you damned him, in the end.

You weren't really sure.

You took a step back as he took one forward, his eyes dancing with a predatory gleam that you knew only too well. And then he was in front of you. You'd forgotten how quickly he could move now. Be in one place and then another. You don't let him show you it unnerves you to have him this close again, to smell that familiar crushed bergamot scent and feel like you've just walked into your home after having abandoned it for so long. You swallow around the pain of it, reminding yourself this isn't him. Not really. That only gets harder when he leans in, his voice caressing the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, darling, why are you here then?” Did he miss you too? Did he think about you as often these last years as you had thought about him? Did he too walk through the pieces of your relationship, wondering if there was ever a moment where you could have salvaged the love you both so desperately wanted? Promised to each other?

No. Probably not. But couldn't you pretend there was? For a moment, couldn't you let him lull you into believing that this is no different than the man who held you gently in his arms, kissing your temple while he whispered to you that he wanted something real? You could pretend that he had never told you he would ruin all of your love for him. Because it was still there anyways. All of your love for him. It was always real, to you at least. Every moment of it.

The rest of this can be found here on AO3!

#astarion ancunin #astarion fic #Astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 fic #astarion smut #bg3 fanfic #fanfic #ascended astarion #astarion x you #astarion reader insert

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michidafantasy · 8 months

Text

Marry Us - Astarion x Tav

tw: mentions of death, blood, gore

Tav is implied to be female in this drabble.

The group has been ambushed by a large goblin horde. Tav, believing this will be their last moment together, makes a confession.

The group had seen many battles in the months they traveled. Some were simple, some rather complicated. However, each time, they emerged victorious, just a bit more skilled for the next enemy encounter. Strategies and planning made them a strong group.

However, this fight was more complex than what they had thought. A swarm of goblins ambushing them as they made their way to Baldur's Gate. Worgs surrounded them, making escape an impossibility. Nothing like this was expected, and made for a major disadvantage.

And thus, the battle raged. All hands on deck, Lae'zel being cornered with Shadowheart while Gale and Wyll gave their all in casting, dealing major blows.

Even Halsin was roped into the fight, bear formation as he did his very best to knock each Worg down in his path.

Not too far off, Astarion and Tav were back to back taking the brunt of the damage.

Blood trickled down Tav's temple, her head spinning from the pain and bloodless. She probably shouldn't have let Astarion feed off of her, but it had become such a nightly ritual. She cursed herself as she slashed off Goblin arms that came their way.

Her eyes continuously darted back to her vampiric lover, anxiety pounding within her chest as arrows flew, stabbing him into the pale, exposed flesh.

"I didn't expect for us to end like this." she gasped amongst the battle cries and screams of pain

Ruby orbs flickered for near a moment before ripping the arrows away, "Talk like that makes me believe you think we're done for, Darling." he chuckled.

Hot, thick air pierced within their lungs as she was tripped up, crashing into his back and rolling down a nearby hill. Astarion's arms wrapped protectively around her. The smell of iron drove his senses wild as he realized how brutally they had been hit. Her blood coated his hands. It took everything within him not to panic when he saw how pale her face truly was.

Flashes of fire danced within his eyes, fear within hers.

"I can't die without telling you this.." she softly told him, cupping his cheek.

There he froze, "Don't you dare say your goodbyes...we're going to get out of this, my love.!"

She grabbed his hand tight, placing a soft kiss onto his cold lips. A mixture of fresh blood as well as mud coated what should have been a tender moment in the heat of it all.

Those eyes Astarion had come to love softened in a way that truly terrified him. He knew this look, a look of defeat and acceptance. A look he never in the hells wanted to see on that beautiful face.

She took a hasty breath, "It's been on my mind...I thought...I thought that we would be able to overcome everything and have a bright future..."

The roaring fired arrows from Karlach swooped by, only momentarily breaking Astarion's attention. The enemy was closing in fast and with them knocked down, the group was fighting harder.

But Tav continued her words as if it was the end, "I wanted to see....see a beautiful ceremony...you and I...all of our friends...I wanted to marry you...and possibly explore having our own children...but if this is how I go...with you by my side, then I'll fight to the last breath holding your hand."

His still heart, untamed and undead, seemed to flourish to life in a way he never knew. Such a confession like this wasn't something he ever thought he would hear. Sure, he and Tav were a thing. Sure, Karlach made so many jabs and jokes about when Astarion would pop the question. That was just that, he never assumed anything as perfect as that ideal life would come to him...to a monster. Someone who belonged to the Shadows.

But there it was, plain as day. The unfortunate thing was it had to be when his most treasured jewel thought they would never see it. A dream that could never come to fruition.

A new fire ignited within the pale elf's chest. His grip around her wrist tightened, eyes darkening. He searched desperately for the particular druid, landing his sights to the far north of the fight.

"Halsin!" he screamed as he picked Tav up, rushing through the swarm of Goblins with fury and haste. Slashes were made of each figure, limbs flying by in the wake.

"Kind of tied up at the moment!" The bear figure called out as he clawed down a line of Worgs.

"Halsin! Marry us!" he delcared.

That alone was enough to break everyone's concentration, even a few of the goblins themselves.

"Are you out of your mind!?" Halsin retorted, "Don't you see we're in a midst of a battle."

Tav's eyes widened in surprise, but her heart shot up, giving her a new sense of purpose as she lifted her blade and side by side cut down the group of enemies.

"Just do it, please!" She begged Halsin, locking eyes.

With a groan, he nodded. Each word, each vow being met with a stab or slash of the foe. A new form of ceremony, and dedication to one another.

As Halsin brought down the last of his statement, the final bit of Worgs came barreling, irritating him as he tried to speak before he entered into a rage, ripping apart the remaining beast before screaming.

"Just kiss already!"

In the moment, Astarion grabbed Tav by her waist, yanking her to him as close as he could before deeply, feverishly sealing their vow with a kiss.

The companions watched in bewilderment, mowing down the last of the Goblins. However, one particular Tiefling could not maintain her joy, shouting out to them.

"It's about damn time you did this! But why in the hells did you do it now!?

One flick of a flaming arrow sent a massive blast that sent the last of the Goblins airborne in many a different direction. But, the blast did make for quite the background as the two newly weds stared into each other's eyes. Husband and Wife. Their story would just begin.

#baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin

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yarnnerdally · 5 months

Text

Okay. Just Astarion fluff. Tavi is one of my OCs and just... yeah. She's a mom. So. Do what you will with that information.

Total WC: 2.8k

“You write an awful lot of letters, you know.” Tavi gasped as Astarion had crept up behind her and let out the breath she had taken in so quickly, hand over her racing heart. “Perhaps a curse of being a bard? So many words to get out, so little time.”

“Gods, Astarion. Just because you're good at sneaking about doesn't mean you should,” she murmured, shifting another piece of paper on top of what she'd been writing. His brow rose and he smirked.

“Ooh, a secret letter? To a lover back home, no doubt,” he teased. To his surprise she merely rolled her eyes, not a speck of pink to be seen on her freckled cheeks. “No? I find that quite hard to believe, darling. As far as high elves go, and I should know, you're stunning.”

“Contrary to popular belief, bards do not have beaus in every major city,” Tavi said with a small huff as she folded the letter away. He watched as she carefully rolled it and sealed it with wax. “Family. If you must know.”

Astarion hummed with amusement, analyzing her every movement. Tavi was young by elven standards at only 120 years old. Just about half his age. And gods, was she beautiful. Of course he'd felt lust for others before of his own volition, but her wit and way with words was slowly wearing him down. He was curious of her; so open in many aspects of her life but her family, apparently. Then again, they'd only met a ten-day past.

The next few days seemed to fly as they prepared to rescue the druid Halsin and destroy the goblin camp. A perfectly good waste of their time, in his opinion, but his thoughts on the matter were easily outweighed. The party afterwards, however… he had to admit some good came of it. His words were practiced as he wooed her with the promise of a mind blowing night of love making and, though she saw through it, make love they did. There was a stirring in him now that he couldn't shake, especially on the nights where she offered herself to him freely to feed from. Objectively a bad idea, but of course he wouldn't turn it down.

The next time he saw her writing after destroying the goblin camp it was obvious she was upset. Her writing was faster, her brow furrowed as she focused. He smirked as he realized the opportunity he had and crept up behind her again. He had only gotten a glimpse of the name before her arm swung out and connected with his face. She turned and gasped as she saw it was Astarion and hurried her apologies, standing to look over his face with concern.

“I am so, so sorry. Are you alright? Gods, I've been so jumpy lately,” she apologized, her hand on his cheek. He chuckled and shook his head.

“I should have seen that coming. I'm sorry, darling,” he said smoothly, his hand coming up to smooth the crease from between her brows. He knew she trusted him, so why he felt the need to play the long game, he wasn't sure. And if he wasn't playing… well, that was something he didn't want to think about. “Working on a new song?” He played dumb, though not dumb enough, apparently.

“How much of it were you able to read before I clocked you?” She asked, her mouth a flat line and her single eyebrow questioning him. He had been caught out. Underneath the annoyance there was some other emotion. Worry, obviously. But anxiety?

“Just the name. Aurelia. Quite a pretty name. Sister? Mother? Aunt?” He went on guessing, his self-assuredness beginning to peter off as a softer look of melancholy replaced her previous annoyance. She shook her head and took a slightly unsteady breath. Taking his hands she sat on the log again, guiding him to sit down with her.

“My daughter.”

“Your… what?” Had he heard her right? Her daughter. She had a daughter in Baldur's Gate. A child. Astarion's throat felt tight in contrast to his wide expression. He was sleeping with a woman who had a child. He blinked a little as he tried to gather words for this. As far as he knew, no one else at camp knew. Not even Karlach, who, for all intents and purposes, was Tavi's best friend.

“My daughter. Aurelia. And… I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner.” Her expression was sad, with a tinge of regret and he immediately decided he didn't like it. Not one bit. Yes, this was all to gain her trust but…

“No, it's… I understand. To a degree, anyways. I mean,” he gave a short laugh, confused. “We've all confided in you now about our struggles. But no one but me knows this now.” He took her hand that was shaking a little and held it.

“I didn't…” she shook her head. “Everyone else is dealing with so much already. And my daughter is safe with my parents. Somehow I became the de facto leader of this band of misfits and I need to be there for everyone.” It clicked for Astarion as he noted the slight bags under her eyes. Everyone went to Tavi with their worries and woes, but who did she go to?

“Darling, I may not be a genius on interpersonal relationships, but one cannot pour from an empty cup.” His words were soft as he noticed the way her eyes began to glisten slightly. She took a steadying breath and turned her head to wipe at her eye.

“I also didn't say anything because I… I don't want you to feel obligated, or… gods, I don't know what I'm saying now,” she laughed, thought it was watery as she sniffed and took her hand back to wipe at both of her eyes. He found himself bringing his own hand to her cheek and cupping it, his thumb brushing away an errant tear.

“It's… alright. I honestly don't blame you,” he murmured, feeling that stirring again as she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Well, shit. She opened her eyes and gave him a sweet, lopsided smile. Shit, shit, shit. “The idea could… grow on me. But,” he shifted gears, gently grasping her chin. “This means you're not allowed to bottle things up anymore. If I'm not allowed to, you're certainly not either.” She giggled and nodded and he could feel its infectious nature. “I do have some questions.”

Tavi nodded, her hand naturally finding his as they sat by the fire. “Of course. I wouldn't ask you to accept this part of me blindly.” Gods, did she have to be so adorable?

“First. Well, her name is Aurelia. Which is beautiful. Second. How old is she?” Tavi rubbed the back of her neck, her cheeks flushing lightly.

“She's eight. And she looks almost just like me. She just doesn't have as many freckles,” she said, smiling now that she was able to talk about her daughter freely.

“Third. Her father?” Her shift from a smile to a slight scowl told him volumes.

“Is a twat and I haven't seen him in seven years. He left just after I had Aurelia. It was… rough. I mean, I was one hundred and seventeen. We'd only been together for a year,” she said. Her hand tightened around Astarion's subconsciously. “My parents… they were upset at first, obviously, when I told them. But, they love her so much it's hard to tell they were ever upset about it.” A loving, caring family. It was unfamiliar territory for Astarion. Though, he found an anger rising in his chest towards Tavi's previous partner. How could he just abandon her like that? With a newborn?

“He sounds like a real charmer. Perhaps it's better he's gone, though I would love to meet him,” he murmured, his distaste evident. Tavi grinned and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“See? I told you the other day. You're sweet when you want to be.” Gods, she was going to be the second death of him. He caught her face before she moved away and smirked as she saw the shift of emotion in her eyes.

“Would my sweet little treat like to see just how sweet I can be?” He purred, grinning as he heard her breath catch. In a split second her lips were on his.

“Finally, away from everyone for a godsdamned minute,” Astarion mumbled to himself as he roamed around the shops and market stalls of the Lower City of Baldur's Gate. Despite the joy of his current freedom, his thoughts consistently drifted back to Tavi. He was, despite his original intentions, hopelessly in love with her. They had destroyed Cazador in his lair. They solved the murder of that stupid clown. He shuddered at the memory and pushed it away as quickly as possible.

He wandered down familiar streets in a new and figurative light, feeling calmer and happier than he ever remembered being. This… brightness. It was contagious now. When she smiled, he smiled. She felt like a balm to his heart. Warmth in the purest form. He eyed a jewelers case and the precious things within it. A silver chain with an emerald pendant caught his eye and he smiled softly. This would do. It was understated, but brilliant nonetheless. Just like Tavi.

“Grandpa! This one! Mama would love this,” a little elven girl piped up, coming up next to Astarion at the case. She pointed excitedly at the necklace he had just been eyeing and at first he was going to tell her paws off but then he really looked at her. It… no, surely…

The girl looked up at him and it was as if Tavi was staring at him. The same eyes. The same hair. Less freckles, just like Tavi described her. “Hi! You look nice,” she said with a toothy grin. An older elf hurried over, a look of concern on his face as he apologized for his granddaughters behavior.

“Aurelia.” The name slipped from his mouth before he realized. She smiled even brighter while her grandfather paled before his face became stern.

“Now sir, I don't know how you-”

“I-I'm sorry, sir, I know this seems like a one in a million chance meeting, but I've been traveling with Tavi for the past two months to get back here to Baldur's Gate,” Astarion rushed to explain, not bothering to mask the astonishment at their chance meeting. Aurelia gasped and tugged on her grandfather's coat.

“Grandpa, this is Mr. Astarion! He's got the white hair and fancy coat and everything!” She turned excitedly towards Astarion who, if he could, would have been blushing. “Were you looking at that necklace for mama? Did you two fall in love?” Well, there was her mother's quick wit. “Mama said pretty jewelry like that is nice for special occasions! So I wanted to get it for her when she comes home.” Gods, his heart was melting. He was not overly fond of children simply because he didn't know how to deal with them, per se, but… how could anyone have walked away from Tavi? From Aurelia? He noticed her grandfather looking at him with scrutinizing eyes and cleared his throat a little.

“I, um, yes. I was. I found it complimented her eyes quite nicely.” He saw her grandfather nod just a little, an almost knowing smile on his face though, of course, he knew his… physical characteristics were of concern. There was no doubt he knew precisely what he was and who he was. “I was unaware your mama told you about me in her letters,” he said offhandedly.

Her grandfather gave a small chuckle and clapped his hand on Astarion's shoulder. “Like mother like daughter. Hardly any filter. We… hadn't gotten word from her that she’s back.” Astarion smiled awkwardly.

“We just arrived from Rivington. I have no doubt there's probably a letter waiting for you at home or will be within a day. There are…” Astarion looked over to Aurelia who was talking amiably now with the shop keeper and picking out the emerald pendant necklace. “... a few things we need to get in order before we find residence for the night. I’m not sure how much detail Tavi put into her letters for you.” The older elf nodded and removed his hand. He paid the merchant what was owed for the necklace and Aurelia held it in its small box close to her chest.

“Okay! You have to tell mama that we’re waiting at home for her,” she said adamantly. She fumbled the box as she held out her hand and her pinky finger stuck out. “Pinky promise, Mr. Astarion!” Astarion chuckled under his breath and knelt to her level. He linked his pinky with hers.

“Of course, Miss Aurelia. You have my word. And,” he poked the box, making her giggle. “Your mama is going to be very happy you picked that necklace for her.”

Due to their notoriety within Baldur's Gate at the present moment, it had been decided that Aurelia, along with Tavi's parents, would go to their camp to visit. Tavi paced as she waited, her anxiety winning out over the reassurances from her traveling companions and even Astarion. Scratch followed her for a while before deciding to rest, the pacing even being too much for him.

“My darling, they'll be here soon,” Astarion attempted to soothe her again, intercepting her with a gentle embrace. Since he learned of her daughter, she had slowly told the rest of their traveling party about her. Of course they were excited to meet her but all agreed they needed their space for a family reunion first. She sighed and finally stopped pacing, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I know. I just miss my baby,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his waist. Astarion hummed and gently rubbed her back.

“I know, love. And she's missed you. And… I happen to know she has a thoughtful gift for you,” he teased softly. Tavi brought her head up, smiling and narrowing her eyes at him. She gave him a small kiss.

“You two are going to be a handful under the same roof,” she chuckled. Astarion's brow quirked up with a smile as she alluded to their future together. Her face shifted as she heard a small voice yelling. She let go of him and turned to the road and whimpered before breaking into a sprint.

“Mama!!!” Aurelia cried, running as fast as her legs would carry her. Tavi called for her and ran faster than Astarion had ever seen and he followed after her at a slower pace. The two met and Tavi went to her knees, both of them crying as she held her daughter tight. Not far behind her parents followed, all of them crying now. Astarion stood by for a moment awkwardly before seeing Tavi's arm reach for him as well. He gave in and went to them, letting her pull him in.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him, her smile bright despite her fresh tear tracks.

Aurelia looked up and smiled, too. She still tried to speak through her uneven speech. “Th-thank you for bringing my mama home, Mr. Astarion.”

-Bonus-

Tavi's parents were in an engaging conversation with Wyll and Shadowheart as she sat next to Astarion by the fire. She leaned against him, a pretty necklace now adorning her neck as they watched Karlach and Halsin taking turns to give Aurelia piggy back rides.

“So. You knew she picked this out?” She asked Astarion softly, looking up at him from his shoulder. He hummed and held her a little tighter.

“I said we met in a shop. It may have been a jewelers. And we both saw it and thought of you,” he said softly, his hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She giggled and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “After realizing who I was, of which I had absolutely no idea she knew who I was, she asked me if we fell in love. In front of your father, by the way. Who immediately realized I was a vampire.”

Tavi blushed lightly and laughed. “Well, the apples don't fall far from the trees,” she shrugged. He rolled his eyes and kissed her gently. They pulled away as they heard Aurelia shout from the top of Mama K's shoulders.

“Grandma! Grandpa! See! I knew it! I told you they fell in love!” Astarion groaned gently, hiding his face in her shoulder. Tavi pressed a kiss to the top of his head as plenty of the other adults laughed.

“Welcome to the family, love.”

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #fluff #fanfiction #asterion/tav #family

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