#Karlach: but THEN we're killing him right?

[maegalkarven]

Hello!

About Empty Prayers AU, firstly - thank you for it! Now I have something to look forward to my evenings.

Secondly... this question really torments me: will there be confrontation with Raphael? Because with Gortash in party this meeting promises to be a hell of... revelations.

Aww thank you!

Oh, hell yes! There will be two confrontations with Raphael actually: one where he offers a deal to get the hammer and free Orpheus (the team refuses) and the final one when he catches them in the HoH. It requires a lot of mental energy to write because this shit will be UGLY. Gortash is not the kind of a man to react well to his wounds being forcibly open like that.

Also there will be confrontation with Korilla bc there's a headcanon she is the warlock Enver was sold to and I'm adopting it.

The team will be Enlightened. We'll also get to see a lot of Gortash at his lowest, the "spiteful ungrateful thing" he is.

[thatfreshi]

Could I request an Astarion/GN!reader(Tav) where reader has trauma around their throat being touched and stuff but bears through the panic attacks just so Astarion can feed and Astarion only finds out after they make camp and confronts reader/Tav about their mental breakdown after a battle they had prior in the day?(reader got grabbed forcefully by the neck?) Essentially a bit of angst and comfort?

Set in act 2!!

TW - choking, panic attack, disordered eating behaviors

Recommended Song: Don't Invest In Me - Adam Melchor

Battle is horrifying, something Astarion never truly quite realized until he fell in love you with. He's talented, especially at killing people. He's never had to worry in a fight, because it was always just him. Now he has to worry about you, and it's painful, not being able to be by your side constantly, watching you in perilous situations, looking death right in the eye. When your group ran into a few violent adventurers yesterday, you weren't expecting any trouble. Suddenly, metal clashing, magic moving through the trees. Astarion moved quickly, offing one of the offenders almost immediately. When he turned to see who was next, bloodlust in his eyes, he saw you being held by the throat. You were frozen, running out of oxygen, tears welling at your eyes. He ran through the trees, running his blade through your captor's back.

"Tav? My dear, are you alright?"

You can't speak, utterly shocked. No one had ever tried to choke you in the throes of battle, and it reminded you of awful things, things that were better left unsaid. He checks you for any other wounds as you're trapped in your own mind. The fighting continues, but he doesn't care. All that matters is you, the others can handle themselves just fine. And if not, that's their loss, not his.

After thoroughly checking you over, he can't find anything else of concern. The bruising on your neck though, it's black and blue already. Racing thoughts, wondering if there's been any lasting damage. He can't decide if he should be more concerned about the fact that you're practically frozen in place or if your windpipe is destroyed.

"The fuck are you doing? We have shit to deal with!"

Karlach silences her complaints when she sees you lying on the ground. Astarion doesn't even look up at her, afraid. He's only ever truly had one thing, one thing that was his, and that's you. Everything else feels so impermanent, but you? You're constant.

"Astarion! Astarion!"

She yells out his name until he finally snaps back to look at your tiefling friend.

"Take Tav back to camp, we've got it covered."

Karlach then runs off, back to assist Wyll with a shadow-covered half-elf. You groan in pain, your neck on fire. As you start to come back to reality, you realize you're in the vampire's arms, a vampire currently moving through the dark as quickly as possible. Neither of you have lights on you, but he knows there are still torches lit at camp, he just has to get there before the shadow curse starts to take hold. You're light-headed, both from lack of oxygen and the panic attack.

"Where...?"

"Hush darling, it's alright. We're almost there, almost to camp."

Through a couple more feet of trees, the two of you make it, bathing in the warm light of the torches posted behind the brush. He takes you back to your tent, where your bedrolls lie side by side. He silently curses himself for not knowing any healing magic, promising himself he'll finally learn after this.

"Aster?"

You call out groggily.

"Yes my love, I'm right here."

Ceasing the nervous pacing, he sits by your side.

"What... what happened?"

He almost doesn't want to say, worried about how you reacted while it was happening.

"One of the shadow-cursed, they... they had you in a nasty chokehold, and I killed them."

You shift, wishing he didn't have to know about all of this.

"Sorry."

"About what darling? You've done nothing wrong."

"About not telling you- not telling you about it."

You're gasping to get your words out, your throat clearly damaged. He furrows his brow in concerned confusion.

"I- I really don't like people touching my neck, doing anything to it to be honest. Wasn't expecting one of them to grab me like that."

Coughing at the end of your sentence, you don't see Astarion's eyes travel through his thoughts, realizing what that means.

"Darling... you let me feed off of you almost every evening."

You smile a little.

"I know."

He grabs one of your hands, clasping it in both of his.

"I'll never do it again. I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

Frantic, worried he's done something irreversibly wrong.

"No, no Aster it's okay. Does it suck sometimes? Yeah, but I need you to be healthy. Besides, what's a better way to work through your trauma than exposure therapy?"

"That's not fair. I can find something else, some other way."

"And what, go back to forest animals? You know there's nothing for you out here, in the darkness."

"Then I'll simply starve! Done it before, I'll do it again."

Gods, he's stubborn. You don't blame him, he would never want to cross anyone's boundaries after his have been trampled a million times.

"My love, come here."

You reach out, beckoning to pull him down beside you.

"If I didn't want to do it, I wouldn't. You need to feed, and I can provide that. You do plenty for me, let me do this one thing for you."

"But, but you hate it."

"Yeah. Those two things can coexist, my hate for people touching my neck, and my love for you. I can put up with the anxiety if it means you're okay."

"I would be okay though."

You cup his face in your hand, making sure he's looking at you.

"I'm telling you I'm okay, and that you deserve more than rats. Okay?"

You've been around him long enough, you know his logic. If he survived for two hundred years living off of flies and rats, he certainly doesn't need blood like yours. If he had starved for an entire year, he could take a few months before getting to Baldur's Gate. Sometimes you have to remind him that survival mode isn't living, that he's allowed to have nice things. Tears fall from his eyes.

"Are you sure my sweet? Absolutely certain?"

"Of course, and if I ever needed you to stop I would tell you, promise."

You put your pinky out, and he stares at it.

"What... what are you doing? Is this you offering me to feed off a singular finger? Because if so, that's uh-"

"No, gods! It's a pinky promise."

"A... a what?"

You start laughing, so hard that you start coughing again, tears falling down your face.

"You've never heard of a pinky promise?"

It pulls at your heart a little, realizing he probably never had anyone teach him.

"I guess I haven't."

You put your pinky out, and he does the same, and then you hook yours, interlacing the small finger with his.

"There, I pinky promise that I'll tell you if you need to stop feeding on me."

As you pull your hand away, he looks confused.

"And that's what, some non-verbal contract?"

"I guess so Mr. Magistrate."

You start laughing again.

"Okay, you have thoroughly scared me, and made me cry, and teased me, in one night! I'm not sure how much more I can take."

There's a hint of humor in his tone. Honestly, he also thinks it's ridiculous that he was a magistrate, considering he was terrible at it, at least from the small things he remembers.

"Well, it's over now. I'm okay, and we're safe."

He narrows his eyes.

"I'm still going to have Shadowheart look over you when the rest return."

"Well, that's your fault for not learning healing magic."

"Okay, you don't know any magic, so I don't want to hear it!"

The two of you stay up for hours, laughing at stupid jokes, hysterical from the tragedy that evening. Sometimes after something horrible, you just need a good laugh, especially with your easily provoked lover.

[rickoconnells]

Spoilers for bg3 ending under the cut but I'm having a lot of thinkings and also feelings on how you spare your companions from being manipulated by godlike beings while falling victim to it yourself repeatedly by the emperor's hand

Aaaanyway. I'm on my second playthrough, deeply unhappy with the choices I made in the first. Like a lamb being led to slaughter, the Emperor manipulates Tav into being little more than a pawn. And I'm annoyed. And this is word vomit.

Yes, you can refuse to give him the stones, and you can either damn yourself or save Karlach in the worst possible way, but regardless, Orpheus dies. The githyanki, who would kill the Emperor, remain Vlaakith's slaves. The Netherbrain, who would kill the Emperor, dies. He is free and you have served your purpose. You will not hear from him again. In fact, you only heard from him when he needed you.

He lies. Continually. Actively and by omission. He appears as the dream visitor, kind, exactly what you want to see - your protector, he REPEATEDLY reminds you. He opens up, he's vulnerable, only YOU can save this sad, trapped dream lord. Save him from what? He won't tell you. You're not ready. Just keep serving him and maybe one day you'll be good enough to know more. Just like Mystra holding back the Weave from Gale. Just like Cazador building an army using Astarion and his siblings' bodies. Just like Shar ripping Shadowheart's memories away again and again. Just be good and some day they will give you what you want.

He never lied. He just didn't tell you. You couldn't handle it. Didn't tell you he was illithid. He couldn't trust you. Trust him. Didn't tell you he was Balduran. Didn't tell you he killed his best friend, clearly in love with him, to save his own neck while that best friend was in the right. He could be once again controlled by the elder brain. He was trapped and controlled by Gortash. He had his fingers in the spine of Stelmane and by extension the city. He was a danger to everyone. But the Wyrm had to die - can't you see? He never lied. He just didn't tell you because it wasn't important. You weren't important enough to know. Don't be so silly. Don't overreact.

Whatever you do, don't free Orpheus. Because then you're being unreasonable. Then you're leaving him no choice. He has to join the Netherbrain, betray you, join what he has been forcing you to fight so hard against, kill you dead for not doing what he wanted, sacrifice you in a ritual of power, make you kill your parents, send your mentor to tell you to detonate the bomb in your chest, snuff out your life for a contract you've broken, take out your heart, make you a slave.

The game is telling you, over and over again, with your companions quest lines, that this is happening. And we all think because we're the hero of the story, it couldn't happen to us, when in reality everyone is the hero of their own story, and everyone has risked the same downfall.

[zwolfgames]

Goblin camp overtake (drabble) Platonic!Yandere!BG3 x Teen!Reader

(Hopefully it's a bit accurate because ive only played the story twice for now so i dunno all the posibilities.)

Summary: Teen!reader and the squad go take defeat the goblins. Therefore meeting Halsin, and Minthara again.

Warnings: Death (obv), mentions of gore, Goblins

Other related BG3 by me: Intro

The sun was shining, the flowers in the forest were blooming... On days like this, kids like you had been tasked with commuting genocide on the local goblins.

Not that you really cared. They were little shitheads... Stole your laundry once back when you lived with your mom... before all this...

But getting closer to this alleged camp wasn't making you any more at ease. You could already imagine the stench of those sweaty creatures when you have to inevitably walk into that camp. Which you've heard is actually just an old temple.

You've noticed over time that people in your little group have gotten... well, friendlier. For example: Lae'zel was no longer throwing you glares, Shadowheart remembered your name, Astarion has indoctrinated you into his schemes... Yea, the three most hostile people had warmed up to you.

And the other have just... always been quite nice.

Well, Wyll still didn't seem to approve of you, a minor, coming along. But he didn't really have a choice as the others were not allowing him to take you back to the Emerald Grove. Guess they really do find you too funny to lose then.

"Ugh, the stench is disgusting." Karlach waves the air under her nose away.

"It is the smell of a goblin camp. What were you expecting? Tchk. And I myself find this odor quite thrilling. It promises of a good fight." Lae'zel slightly smirks. Clawed hands flexing around the handle of her greatsword.

"Of course you do... Tough the smell of blood has never scared me away." Astarion, in turn, chuckles in that weird posh way. You raise a brow.

"So you're sure you're not a vampire?" You question sarcastically. The pale elf gasps in mock offense.

"Of course not. I merely like the smell." He huffs. Right, so that time you saw him hunt down a boar must have been make belief.

The rest of the party didn't comment anymore as you made your way to the camp.

Gale had thrown his arm around your shoulder to keep you at the back. He excused that as 'magic users stay behind so they can asses the battlefield'. But he probably just didn't want to accidently get Lae'zels sword through his back.

This mission to save some druid calmed Halsin was looking like a total hassle. But hey, why not do side quests while the worm in your head is ready to kill you?

Whatever person lives in your head didn't take kindly to your remark as you heard the voice say they'd protect you.

Right, bullshit. You're just developing pshycosis. A hundred percent that.

"Y/N. If they target you, I want you to run, alright?" Wyll speaks calmly.

"Well, I mean, not that I don't want to but were kind of in this together -" You start nonchalantly.

"Don't listen to the human. It is unhonerable to run from a fight." Lae'zel scolds like a lecturing general.

Well, do you really care about your honor? It's not like you're trying to capture the Avatar here-

"Yea yea, got it, boss." You sigh. The slight stress makes its way to your head. It's just some goblins, right? Nothing a good magic missile can't solve... Right?

You take back your words quite quickly when Astarion smooth talks his way past the outside security to let your group pass. There's like... at least fifty goblins here!

You feel an arm slitter around your shoulders. Looking up, you can see Lae'zels warry face.

She's gripping that greatsword quite harshly, a bit scared, maybe? Tough you doubt it, it's Lae'zel..

You ignore the stink eyes these little creatures are throwing you and walk along with your group.

"My, what a festive place, no? Look, they even have booze." Astarion muses with his typical smug grin.

"We're not here to party." Gale groans. The wizard stares at the goblins in distaste. You note that everyone is on edge

A goblin child sticks her tingue out at you, so you do the same, blowing raspberries for good meassure. This action earns you a dissaproving look by Wyll.

"So where's this druid? I don't want to be here any longer then needed." Shadowheart complains with a little wave infront of her nose to showcase that she thinks this place stinks.. Wich it does.

"Let's ask!" Karlach offers her idea.

"You've got to be the most optimistic person I've met and we have a literal child in the group." Gale groans.

"You can't miss any of the chances you take." Karlach shrugs.

"Let's just gut all of them. I'm sure we can search for the druid in peace then." Astarion smirks.

"For once, I agree with the pale one." Lae'zel sneers.

You watch your group bicker a bit longer as you wander out of the grip you had been put in. Walking around the goblin camp instead.

Mhh, a clear booze tub. They're drunk. Quite ideal.

You scan around the area, a certain tall woman catches your eye, seeing as she isn't a goblin.

Wait a minute, you've met her before! She almost killed you on the beach when the Nautiloid crashed!

The nerve of that woman, she doesn't deserve the same hairstyle as your mother.

Astarion had snuk out of the argument your group of idiots was having right in the middle of the goblin camp. He stuck himself to your side, observing along with you.

"You seem... focussed. You have an idea, do you not?" The pale elf asks smoothly.

"An inkling. They're drinking, and Nettie gave us wyvern poison... I mean...?" You let your gaze travel to the booze tub. Astarions red eyed orbs follow along. You can see a sharp toothed grin spread across his face.

"I just know we're going to be great friends, Y/N.." He smirks and puts a cold hand on your shoulder.

You just smile in satisfaction that your plan is apparently good. Before you know it, Astarions snatched the poison out of Shadowhearts pocket. You watch the man go invisible to presumably go dunk the booze in poison. Or maybe he's gonna drink it... But he never seemed suicidal... So it should be fine.

"Y/N, c'mon, we're going into the temple, the druid should be there." Karlach waves you over.

You nod and join the group again. Getting tucked back under someone's shoulder.

The first leader of the Goblins you had met was a priestess. And oh boy, defenitly not your favourite... She wanted to brand you! Is she nuts!?

So anyways, Lae'zel chopped her head off... Uh... props to Wyll for covering your eyes.

Then there was Dror Ragzlin. Scary guy that one. Almost twice your size, mean face and doing necromancy. Yikes.

Unfortunatly, you did have to help in this fight. There were goblins storming in through the door and well just that beast of an orc.

So you you just started blasting spells at the incoming goblins. Fireball and Ice Knife were a nice combo, no? Make em slip and then steam the ice and do damage? Sounds logical to you. Was anyone else smelling barbeque or just you?

When that got taken care of, Karlach strapped a helmet to your head and lead you back to the group.

The last leader was the same woman that had tried to kill you. Minthara, apparently. You've never seen a real drow, so this was cool. Except for the part where she tried to kill all of you. That wasn't that cool...

Just before she was supposed to just die, Lae'zel had accidently hit one of the wooden beams in the room. The ceiling collapsed right infront of you.

Well, maybe she's dead? Atleast it's not your problem anymore?

After all the goblins inside had straight up been slayed, Astarion joined the group once more, seeming quite pleased with himself.

"Where have you been?" Gale asks sternly. Raising an eyebrow in suspiscion. It's still quite annoying that nobody really trusts anyone here..

"Let's just say the situation outside is taken care off." Astarion boasts proudly.

"Really? And you did that, alone?" Shadowheart states in a disbelieving tone. Gods forbid the fancy man does anything impressive.

"Yes! Is that so hard to believe?" Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms.

"Very." Shadowheart argues back.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Lae'zel adds.

Wyll and Karlach just exchange glances. Well you know that he did it. So there's no need for your input-

"Ahhh!" You eep in fear as a large man had appeared behind you. Wich is very scary considering every one in this temple was supposed to be dead.

"Calm down little cub, I mean no harm." The large man smiles reasuringly.

You stagger back to Lae'zels side. This man... Elf ears.. Brown hair. Ah, druid attire? Halsin, perhaps?

"And who are you?" Shadowheart asks for all of you.

"Halsin. You were sent here to come chack on me, or are you just lost adventurers?" Halsin asks with that same smile.

"Well, we found him. Back to the grove-" Gale starts walking off before Karlach grabs the rim of his robes to keep him in the group.

"We did come here for you. Have the goblins hurt you?" Wyll asks calmly. Halsin shakes his head.

"Nothing I can't handle. Why the cub?" Halsin tilts his head at you.

"They're actually an immortal being in the form of a child. Wiser then any of us." Astarion makes up.

Halsin raises a brow. Clearly not believing that.

"Right. But like your little wizard said, we should get back. I am sure the grove has missed me." Halsin hums.

"Don't think so, they're closing it off frol the outside world." You mention calmly.

"What." Halsin stops smiling. You just shrug, that's all you picked up from it.

Halsin frowns and starts walking out. What determination.

Your group eventually exits the dead silent temple after having taken any valuables. Can't leave without some loot, who knows if you're getting paid!

As you walk out the large door, the death Astarion had caused is quite visible, dead goblins everywhere. R.I.P, you won't be missed.

Now that that's taken care of, who knows what adventures await you thanks to this stupid worm in your brain!

Not the best, but it's something. Yan feelings gotta develop trough the story but I'm not fully there yet.

[galedekarios]

Keeping this anon, but I hear you hate bloodweave. I was curious on your take to why.

You don't have to reply to this if it makes you uncomfortable thought!!

i'd like to preface this again by saying that this is my opinion. idc what you ship.

i've talked about this here, but i don't mind reiterating my points:

they have no chemistry, to the contrary, gale shuts him down right away during their first talk and ast*rion's manipulation attempts. i assume that gale sees right through him from the beginning. a lot of people love to hc gale as naive as or as completely taken with ast*rion, but it's the complete opposite. i imagine his many years in waterhavian society made him realise quite quickly what type of person he's dealing with. the relationship they have doesn't progress much from that. by act iii they - at best - begrudgingly tolerate each other.

they are diametrically opposed in the things they value as people as well as their morals. gale is kind-hearted, he approves of helping those in need, children, mothers, slaves, refugees, even the animals you meet in-game. he seeks to avoid bloodshed, approves of letting people who want to pay the party back for their help keep their money and belongings. he seeks knowledge and even power not for selfish reasons or a taste for the darker things, but because he seeks to better their odds of survival against a seemingly invincible foe. ast*rion meanwhile is selfish and cruel and vile. he delights in violence and bloodshed, he finds the struggle of people caught in the crosshairs amusing. he is greedy and short-sighted, seeking power for himself, no matter the cost to others.

they are completely incompatible in terms of what they look for in a relationship and a potential partner. gale wants and needs a deeper connection, a tangling of the souls, and he needs someone to be there for him unequivocally, to love him for who he is as he is. he is not taken in by someone's looks or image they present of themselves, nor does he do hate sex / endless bickering / enemies to fwb / etc.

the first things he cites for trusting the protag are their good actions (helping mirkon, helping arabella, seeking to ease the tension between zevlor and aradin), it's all those things that at first make him trust the protag and later - when they unselfishly offer him help, give him artefacts - makes him fall in love with them. sex and immediate gratification isn't important to him. sex is a component - one way in an array of ways to proclaim love.

for ast*rion, it's manipulation first and his entire romance hinges on that. his partner falling for his looks and his text book manipulation into sex. that's already where this breaks apart for me in terms of this ship because that doesn't work with gale.

add to that ast*rion's cruel remarks about gale's when he is need:

[after gale's background story reveal] You'd have us debate? That Netherese jack-in-the-box should be a blip on the horizon by now!

[after mystra's demands] I can't believe Mystra's demanding Gale sacrifice himself to destroy the Absolute. It's just a waste of a perfectly good cult that we could be controlling. And a waste of a perfectly good Gale, I suppose.

[at the stormshore tabernacle] Well? Go on, then - it's rude to keep a goddess waiting.

[after orin potentially kidnaps gale] So, we kill Gortash or Gale dies? It's not an easy call. On the one hand, killing Gortash would be fun. On the other, Gale can be very annoying. We should probably save the wizard, though. He does have his moments.

i think it's very clear, given the fact that these reactions range from act i to act iii, that he doesn't give a singular fuck about gale. contrast this to karlach's reactions, or even shadowheart's:

Karlach: That bloody freak won't get away with this. That's my wizard she took. And we're going to get him back.

(particularly karlach has many reactions like this.)

...unless you play either of them as an origin char and make the most ooc choices, i do not see how this pairing is supposed to work.

additionally, as i've discussed more in my previous post, the parallels people draw between them are shallow at best or can be drawn virtually between any of the other origin companions, or are non-existent at worst. ast*rion having a reading animation that he shares with gale (as halsin and shadowheart do too), or having their tents next to each other (like wyll and gale do in act i) isn't really enough for me.

as i've said previously, i have tried to engage with the pairing because it's sadly inescapable since people often don't bother tagging, but there's nothing except shallow ooc stuff.

[loquaciousquark]

when will eppie hawke and fenris meet tavish and astarion? (:

"And anyway, it won't be that bad. One last little Fade rift. We'll barricade it up as best we can, send a message to Skyhold, go home, and—"

One of the craggy footholds crumbles away beneath Hawke's foot, and it's only Fenris's quick hand that saves her from a plummet back down the side of the barren mountain. "Hawke, please."

"Please yourself. I said you didn't have to come."

Fenris throws her a longsuffering look, the flickering green lightning of the rift casting weird shadows over his eyes, but he doesn't let go of her arm until she's got both feet on solid ground again. "Just seal it and let this be done."

"My heart's only desire, lover," Hawke says, smiling, just as another pair of voices rises from the other side of the rift.

"Careful—careful! It shocks like the entire Hells are in there. Where's Gale?"

"Wherever Karlach dropped him, I suppose, with that little sprained ankle of his. No, I see them, they're almost here. Come away, darling. No need to get so dramatically close."

"This, from you?" says the woman, just as she and her fellow voice round the far edge of the rift. "Oh!"

"Well!" Hawke says almost at the same moment. Two of them after all: a short, slim woman with auburn hair pulled back in a low tail, and a tall, lithe man with hair as white as Fenris's and eyes that gleam like rubies. The man has a dagger drawn already, a thin smile playing over his face; the woman's fingers rest on her sheathed rapier, but her gaze is open, friendly. Hawke plants her staff on the rocky ground in as welcoming a gesture as she can manage. "Fancy running into someone like you up here of all places."

"I could say the same," the woman says. The green rift, still hanging between them and stretching a good twenty feet into the sky, gives an ominous rumble. "Our wizard's been fretting about magical disturbances along the city's borders for weeks. He finally traces the source to this location, and here you are at the heart of it. I'd like to believe it's coincidence."

"Alas," Hawke says, "one of my greatest faults is a terrible habit of being around when things begin. Fenris can attest to that better than most." She lays a hand on Fenris's shoulder, but he's stiff as iron, eyes glued to the man's dagger, and he's reached back for the hilt of his greatsword. "I'm Hawke, by the way."

"Call me Tav."

"And I'm Astarion," the man says grandly, accompanied by a wholly unnecessary flourish of his dagger. "We're here to steal the world."

"Save it," Tav says sharply.

"Of course, my dear. Save the world. What did I say?"

Fenris makes a short, disgusted noise, but Hawke's pleased to see he's let go of his own sword. She doesn't think this Astarion is going to kill them—not easily, anyway—and she likes the look of Tav despite herself. Both of them quick on their feet, she thinks, both moving gracefully with an innate, self-assured balance. As Tav steps around the rift Astarion moves with her like water, without even needing to see where she's gone. It reminds her a great deal of Fenris and herself, actually, though Hawke would give an arm to trust her own feet that much.

Fenris, it seems, has come to similar conclusions, and he rolls his shoulders as he releases their tension. Even his voice has lost its nascent fury, which for Fenris is practically friendly in situations like this. "The rift is dangerous. We will guard it until the Inquisitor can seal it permanently. Be on your way."

"Inquisitor?" drawls Astarion with that same, thin-lipped smile. "Sounds like someone from dear Shadowheart's former enclave, don't you think?"

"I don't think they're Sharran," Tav says. "Are you?"

"What a speculative look you've put on," Hawke says, delighted. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. Unless you'd like me to be Sharran, in which case, I most certainly am and in fact have always been."

Both Fenris and Astarion roll their eyes—hilarious in its own right, but heightened by the clear antipathy still remaining between them. Fenris sighs. "Hawke—"

The rift explodes.

Green lightning shatters over the rocky cliff. The rumble bursts into a deafening roar; the faint breeze that had been dancing around them sweeps up into a hurricane. The air cracks and snaps with a sudden smell of ozone.

Hawke throws her hand over her eyes. She can't see—the wind tears her hair from its bindings and she can't see past the brilliant flashes of blazing green and she can't hear— "Fenris!"

Someone's fingers wrap around hers. She wrenches up her staff, calls for fire—for ice—for anything—but the rift has become a maelstrom and every scrap of magic sucks into the raging whirl before she can shape it. Her boots skid on the stone as she tries to brace against the inexorable pull, pebbles and rocks rattling along every step. She can't—the hand wrapped around hers has seized tight as a vise, but she's slipping anyway, and Maker, she can't—

A man's echoing voice, stripped bare of all artifice, wild with fear: "Tav!"

The wind dies. Not slowly, not gradually; it falls off like someone's upturned a glass over the rocky cliff, and Hawke's ears roar in the sudden silence. The wind is gone, and the rift is gone with it as if it had never been, the thunderous clouds that had been swirling above it already dissipating to glimpses of blue morning sky.

"Andraste preserve me," Hawke says, loud in the quiet, and she looks over to see Tav still crouched against the face of the mountain. One of Tav's hands clutches a dagger she'd wedged deep into a stony crevice; the other is still wrapped tight around Hawke's wrist where she'd pulled her away from the tempest.

No sign of Fenris. No sign of the other one—Astarion. A long white scrape in the stone marks where Fenris's sword had sought and failed to find purchase, disappearing at the precise place where the rift had torn itself open.

Gone. Gone, gone. Her heart hammers in her throat, and she indulges in thirty seconds of agonizing grief before she sets it aside, turns, and pulls Tav to her feet.

"Well," Hawke says at last. "Looks like it's just you and me, then. Ready for an adventure?"

"Yes," Tav says, her grip on Hawke's hand like steel, and her eyes blaze. "You and me. Let's get them back."

—

Everything hurts. Everything godsdamned hurts, and Astarion lets out a pained groan as he rolls to his back and drops his arm over his face. His ears ring like bells, and something twinges painfully in his left hip, and the inconvenient sun has decided to blaze right in his face and gods damn it, he'd known they ought to wait for Gale. Wretched wizard and his weak ankles. Wretched Tav and her complete inability—

"Tav," Astarion says, and sits bolt upright.

No Tav. Not even the dark-haired sorcerer with the wide smile. Just that taciturn warrior in leather and half-plate seated on a rock a few feet away, watching Astarion get his bearings, his greatsword slung across his knees and a deeply sour look on his tattooed face. The skies above them are clear and blue as a song.

No Tav. No Hawke. No rift. No plan, and no company besides an irascible stranger with the same sudden look of dawning horror.

"Venhedis."

"Shit."

[epiphyllous]

when morning comes (Astarion/Reader) [3]

Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs? (Astarion begins to think he does not deserve you.)

Word Count: ~9k Notes: Astarion/Reader, Paladin!Reader, AFAB, gender-neutral "you", following Astarion romance route in his POV + my hc/additional scenes, [switches to your POV], annoyance to lovers, fall first/fall harder, mutual pining, Wyll/Karlach, implied Wyll/Reader [Part 2]

[Act II: Moonrise Towers]

Getting into Moonrise was almost too easy. It is a relatively stressless trip if not for the grand introduction of Ketheric Thorm. The man truly is invulnerable, walking up the steps of the tower without care after being killed twice right before their eyes. It is no wonder Moonrise follows his command, convinced of his authority as the Absolute's chosen. 

It is equally as easy to convince Moonrise that they are all willing followers of the Absolute. Z'rell is the only person they truly had to demonstrate loyalty to, but Astarion watches you display just enough cruelty to the goblins to prove your place. 

“Your lust for the neck pricker is succulent,” she suddenly says, eyes turning to him. Astarion looks to you in question, only to see you glance away in mild embarrassment. “It almost makes me want to take a bite out of him myself.”

“Enough,” you say, clearing your throat. “Surely you know by now we're loyal to the cause?”

She does, or she says as much when she assigns them a mission to help Balthazar get the artifact responsible for Ketheric Thorm's immortality. Astarion doesn't really know the details, not caring much to pay attention when he already understands the gist of it involves killing someone. Besides, he is more interested in what exactly Z'rell saw in your thoughts. If only to tease you about your ‘succulent lust’ for him, he means to bring it up the first chance he gets. 

You must realize this, because you take your time exploring Moonrise Towers and keeping them all preoccupied. Gale manages to get blessed for the first time in what seems like forever by his goddess when he rids of the foul Netherese magic circle in Balthazar's chambers. Karlach gets her chance to pet the undead guard dog in Ketheric's private quarters, and you keep him preoccupied with all the chests they have to unlock.

Astarion gets an opportunity to talk after they find Melodia Thorm's room and the letters she gave to her husband, but he finds you solemn in thought at the discovery, so he decides (for once) to leave you be for now. 

Then they meet Araj Oblodra, and the thought completely leaves his head.

He barely resists the urge to cover his nose for how foul her blood smells. He manages to smile rather than grimace when they first greet her, though he finds his efforts wasted when she sets her eyes on him to be bitten. Astarion can't imagine something he would want to do less.

When the drow asks if he ‘belongs’ to you, Astarion watches as you frown. "Astarion can answer for himself just fine," you say. "He's his own person." 

It is almost adorable how disconcerted you look when the drow continues on, as if you can't quite understand why anyone would think you could own him. Astarion finds it annoyingly familiar though, the way he is viewed as something lesser without needs or preferences. Your easy agreement to his own autonomy is... refreshing. He has known your proclivity for all things good and fair, but to have you display it in full for his sake,  Astarion feels touched.

“I will have to decline,” he tells her with a stiff smile.

The blood dealer bristles, not expecting his response, and he begins to feel uneasy despite himself. “Excuse me? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you're squandering it.”

Astarion nearly bares his fangs in response. “I gave you my answer,” he hisses, and in the corner of his eyes, he sees you shift, stepping closer to him. The unease at refusing the offer dissipates knowing you are there to support him, even when the drow becomes increasingly displeased. 

“Can't you talk sense into your obstinate charge?” Araj demands, and you quip her with a short and sharp smile. That’s one he hasn’t seen in a while, Astarion thinks, forced civility wielded like a weapon against those who have found themselves on your bad side. Which you do have, to his past surprise. Astarion just never imagined that he would bear witness to someone landing themselves in it just because of the way they speak to him. 

Astarion would be lying if he said he was not pleased.

"I don't really see why he needs to say yes,” you drawl. “I'm surprised he said no, to be honest."

Ugh, you are honest even in the worst of times.

"Sorry, one moment..." Amusement and exasperation battles in equal strength as he pulls you away just enough to speak to you privately. "Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some potion?" He asks, though when he sees genuine confusion flit back into your expression, he confirms your question is out of curiosity not persuasion. You seem almost panicked at the thought of his suggestion being true.

"What? No," you reply back to him, alarmed. "I would never!” You desperately scramble to explain yourself. “I just thought you'd jump at the opportunity to bite people. I was, you know, just a little surprised.”

Funnily enough, you may have a point. A point that need not happen in front of an annoyed drow, but a point nonetheless. He could never truly fault you for being right, however inconvenient it is sometimes. (In the past, he would never have imagined he would feel this way about you.) "Well, yes, you aren't wrong,” he says, “but something smells off about her blood. I don't need to taste it to know it's going to be awful."

He shudders for good measure, and he sees your lips quirk up at his dramatics. He thinks briefly about how he has only known the taste of your blood, besides the time he was compelled to take a bite out of Gale because of a cursed frog. The drow's blood smells worse than his netherese poisoned blood, and in comparison, yours is almost sweet. Astarion finds himself elaborating without prompting. "Nothing that will kill me, but I'd rather not go through it if I don't have to."

You nod. "Okay,” you say easily, “if you don't want to, you don't have to.”

"Alright," Astarion replies automatically before his surprise can stop him. Just like that, he thinks, and he can make choices for himself just by how it makes him feel. It's rather novel. The realization is quite overwhelming, despite how simple you make it seem. He pauses, shooting you a quick smile-- or what he hopes is a smile. "Uh, thank you." 

You only wave your hand at him and turn back to the drow with an unapologetic smile. He faces the drow with you and turns her down again, much to her immense displeasure. 

You manage to lift Araj's moods somewhat when you offer up your blood for experimentation. Astarion isn't happy about the exchange, for who knows what the drow will do with your blood, but you seem genuinely curious enough about the whole concept. You get a flask made from your blood in return, which you give to him almost immediately. 

“A gift,” you tell him. “Let me know what it does if you drink it.” A flicker of guilt comes and goes when he accepts it, and for a brief and endearing moment he thinks this may be a gesture made because of the misunderstanding earlier. He feels pleasantly surprised by how quickly you come to his defense and try to make amends when you think you have done him a disservice– as though his feelings mattered. 

You tilt your head curiously. “Can you still smell my blood in the potion?”

Astarion opens up the flask and takes a look. In the bouquet of herbal scents, yes, he can identify your blood mixed in it. He rather thinks he is quite familiar with it, and it is a taste he can never get tired of. 

He wants to thank you but finds that he has bigger things to be grateful for. He has never been shy of showing thanks, but what you've just done for him in front of Araj is too important to him for it to be said in passing.

At every chance you get, you make him feel... seen. Safe. He is his own person, vampirism be damned– a living being with his own thoughts and feelings, and you make it known to him and to everyone even if he himself cannot see it. Your goodness remains in the face of temptation, and you are unwavering in your beliefs when you believe it to be right. How does one even begin to thank you for not betraying his faith in you like that? 

(What a fragile thing trust is, to be put to the breaking point at a single moment in time. What if you had demanded him to bite the drow, regardless of how he felt? If you had placed more value in the potion's abilities than in his own free will? He suspects his relationship with you would be unsalvageable. For some things may be forgiven–and he feels as though he would forgive many things for you–but he cannot afford to lose himself again, even to you.)

Astarion doesn't get a chance with you alone for a while, the party having moved on to trying to break the prisoners from Moonrise Towers. The tieflings– Rolan will absolutely hate the fact they will have saved Lia and Cal for him--and dark gnomes alike all wait in the prisons for the right time to hatch their plan. They are lucky to have them show up when they do and guide them out without a single trace. Astarion is almost disappointed that there wasn’t a fight to be had. 

He waits until the freed gnomes and tieflings steer their way to Last Light Inn in the distance before he speaks with you. Water laps at the makeshift port the prisoners sailed from, and as Gale goes into the logistics of his mage hand magic to Karlach, he approaches you. 

You look into the distance, beyond the point of where the Moonrise Tower's light can reach. When you turn to him, as if feeling his gaze, he feels a moment of déja vu. 

"I wanted to thank you,” he tells you.

You look confused, glancing out into the dark before coming back to him, and he realizes perhaps you think he's somehow grateful for releasing the prisoners. Not a strange notion, but certainly what would be a first for him, considering who they saved. "For what?"

"For what you said whilst we were in front of that vile drow,” Astarion continues, finding himself more impassioned than he previously thought. “You could have asked me to throw myself at the drow, my feelings be damned.” He pauses for a moment to gather himself. “But you didn't, and I'm grateful."

Your response comes easily to you as it did before. "Of course.” You tell him, “I wouldn't want you to do something you don't want to.”

Your words are gentle, but they leave him feeling exposed. It's as though his chest has been opened and now you bear witness to what he has kept hidden for so long. He is by no means fragile, but it does not mean he is unaffected by how vulnerable he feels in the face of your unconditional acceptance.

"I admit it's a novel concept. A little intimidating.” Astarion stops again, musing over his words and willing for his voice to stop shaking. You wait patiently for him until he confesses, “For two hundred years, I used my body to lure pretty things back to my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing-- it never mattered. It would have been easy enough, honestly, to just bite her. Face a little disgust and move on from it like I did before."

“Astarion,” you begin softly, and he feels his neck prickle with an emotion unfamiliar to him: embarrassment. You pause then, finding the words you want to say. “I want you to keep telling me how you feel about things. I need to know what you're okay with and what you're not because,” and it is your turn to look abashed, “I don't always know what you want. I'm not the most observant person, and I would hate it if I accidentally made you do something you didn't want to do.” You breathe. “So, thank you, for telling me.”

“It's rather odd to hear you thank me,” he admits, and he unfurls fists he hadn't realized he was holding. He leaves it unsaid, how difficult it has been to be truthful to himself and to you. He isn't sure if he can remain so in the worst of times, but he knows this at least: he will continue to try.

He thinks it is the first time he has been given the chance to.

You make a face he would have laughed at if he were not so relieved. “I've said thank you to you before.”

“That is not what I mean, dear,” he replies dryly, and when he hears footsteps approach, he knows this conversation has reached its end. (An expert, Astarion carefully sews himself closed, though he leaves a stitch untethered so perhaps next time it will not be so hard to undo. The thought of being seen becomes less frightening when he knows it will be you.)

“Gale and I might've found something you might want to check out,” Karlach says, pointing behind her. “Looks rather nasty and sort of important.”

“Man, can we ever separate the importance from how disgusting it ends up being?” You bemoan, walking up to Karlach and easily accepting the arm she puts around your shoulder. “How gross?” 

“Quite nasty, even to our standards,” Gale replies, grimacing. “I think that's saying quite a lot, considering our adventures so far.”

Astarion hears you mutter a small ‘ew’ under your breath and he huffs in laughter. “Well, as long as it involves blood and violence, I'm sure it won't be too terrible of an encounter,” he says. 

Entering the adjacent bowels of an illithid colony threatens that viewpoint, but the rest of them are too preoccupied with their own thoughts to call Astarion out for it. All in good time, he thinks as he brushes off the organic bits off his clothes without drawing attention to himself.

.

.

.

Shadowheart is beside herself when they enter the Gauntlet of Shar. As one of the only and largest places of worship of the dark goddess, it is impressive in its grandiosity and in how unwelcoming it makes itself to be with its dark corners and tall pillars. If Shadowheart finds rapture in the temple, Halsin and you find it unsettling with how cold it is, though you keep your opinions to yourself. 

For Astarion, he finds the temple rather homey; it is quiet and lonely, but it is still leagues better than the dreaded halls of Cazador's castle. When he tells the party just as much, he receives matching looks of incredulity. 

“Do you… happen to like tall ceilings, Astarion?” You ask, comically sincere about it. 

“Perhaps he sees the beauty in the silence,” Halsin offers. “It could be seen as…” He pauses. “Peaceful.”

Astarion sees Shadowheart turn her head a tad too late to hide her laughter. 

Peaceful is giving the Gauntlet too much credit. The silence of the temple is unsettling at best, abandoned by those who used to worship it. Abandoned, it makes for a lovely home for a devil– more specifically the orthon they are tasked to kill in order to fulfill Raphael's deal. 

Astarion could care less why Yurgur is here, but if the absence of living Dark Justiciars is of any indication, the orthon must have overstayed its welcome after the war. His ability to turn invisible is a tad irritating but he and his army are no match for them and their combined wit. You have quite the arm to throw his bombs back to him, and in the aftermath, there is nothing but dust. 

As though he were watching, Raphael appears to them soon after to uphold his end of the bargain. He seems a midge too satisfied to be revealing the truth about the devilish contract etched onto Astarion's back, but perhaps he is simply happy to have gotten rid of his enemy vicariously. Astarion pays no mind to the devil when he leaves, mind whirling with the implications of the truth. 

In short, it is overwhelming. (The feeling is quickly becoming familiar.) Two hundred years of questions finally answered. The reason for his pain all those nights ago, the horrors he has had to face all these years finally having meaning. It is a dreadful conclusion to result in, with more problems introduced than closure given. 

Astarion lets out a thoughtful hum, and the concern on your face would be funny if his thoughts weren't so preoccupied. "You okay?"

"It's a lot to take in." Astarion pauses, looking over to you as you wait patiently, though there is still a veneer of concern behind your eyes. He finds that in your patience, he realizes he is afraid–of what is to come, and what this revelation means for him. Another realization is the fact that he trusts you in full. It should scare him, the way he feels like he can turn to you for help, but it does not--not as much as it used to. "What do you think I should do?"

"Well," you begin placidly, "anything to do with devils and demons never ends well. And," you glance at him, "the sacrifice of all vampire spawn doesn't sound too good to me."

"There's only the seven of us," he says, though he knows one is already too many for you to leave dead. The thought both irritates and comforts him in equal measure, especially when you give him a practiced look of exasperation. "Though that does include me. Just when I was about to start enjoying life again."

"And about Cazador." You continue plainly, "I don't think you'll be free until he's dead."

His heart leaps, and then something settles. How quick you are to get to the heart of the problem, not that he will ever admit it to you. "I hate," he says, "how right you are. If I thought he'd stop at nothing to find me when I was just his plaything, he'd go to the ends of Faerûn to bring me back knowing this contract." He swallows inaudibly, preparing his next words. "We need to take the fight to him, but I can't do it alone."

"You won't be," you say so easily. It pulls at heartstrings he wasn't aware existed. "You'll have me."

"Yes, well." He clears his throat. "Let's not overestimate ourselves; the two of us will certainly not be enough to go against a true vampire lord. Though..." Astarion trails off, trying but failing to stave off from the warmth that courses through him. "For what it's worth, thank you." 

Your smile is beatific, and Astarion begins to think perhaps he doesn't deserve you. 

.

.

.

As the umbral gems are collected, it begins to feel like the beginning of the end for the shadows that lurk. Everyone can feel it; it is the way hard conversations are beginning to be had, all loose ends tying up before the coming of a new chapter. Astarion sees you speak to Gale about his so-called destined fate to die against the Absolute, to Arabella about her future beyond her parents’ death, and to Karlach about hard decisions and an ending that seems all too close to come. You are busy with all matters of import that Astarion has not had a moment's time with you for the past few days.

He loathes to admit it but he finds himself missing your company. A ridiculous notion, he is sure. It's not as if he has not seen you around camp or not exchanged words with you at all. If anything, you still proactively seek out opportunities to see him when you are free, but all attempts to find the time to spend with him end up taken by someone else. 

Astarion remembers once upon a time when he had barely cared to recognize the effort you put into spending time with him. Now, when he is bereft of your presence, he cannot stand the fact that everyone seems determined to thwart your every attempt.

He says as much to Karlach– though he may have complained more about your busy-body schedule than admit the fact he finds himself in want of you. Much to his dismay, Karlach is similar to you in the worst of ways, seeing through him easier than most. Though it may be due to her straightforward manner more than anything. 

“Aw, Astarion, if you miss them that much, you can try to see if you can talk to them when they’re free too. Ooh!” She exclaims in excitement, “Do you want me to distract everyone for a little while? So the two of you lovebirds can have a moment together?”

Astarion is quick to turn her down. It embarrasses him to a degree that he misses you. He doesn’t think he is quite ready to admit it to himself, let alone to other people. It feels… final, like a turning point that Astarion isn’t sure he can take– should take. Surely, he thinks, you find other people’s company more enjoyable? “No, that won’t be necessary, darling,” he says airily. “It is hardly that important to warrant that much effort from either of us.”

He thinks Karlach’s look is much too sympathetic for his liking, so he excuses himself to read the Book of Thay again. At least then he won’t have to listen to his own thoughts.

That being said… Astarion's gaze follows you when you flit back and forth in camp. The book lay in his hands, opened but nearly forgotten, and he starts to take Karlach's words into consideration. Surely, initiating conversation with you should not be that hard? He has propositioned you twice already with no qualms and yet he doesn't know what to say to get your attention when it is not of sexual nature. He has never cared to, never been able to if he wanted to– and now when he has the chance, he stands rooted to his spot, unable to do a thing when Wyll asks you to dance with him as though it is second nature. 

And of course you would accept– why wouldn't you? 

He may have grown out of prince charmings and fairytale endings, but you? There could not possibly be a better match for you than Wyll, who is the epitome of everything you could ever dream of. Handsome, righteous, selfless– Wyll is the hero of every storybook, and Astarion would not be surprised if the heavens decided to make you for each other. Wyll twirls you in his arms, leading you with a gentle hand that is befitting of your nature. And you laugh, light and joyous, the two of you looking at each other with bright eyes.

Astarion would never doubt the fun that the two of you have together. But he knows you would want more than that. You dream of true love and world peace, dressing up in all white and walking down the aisle to swear yourself to another person for life. You bleed love with your every touch, and he has never tasted love until you. 

He doesn’t know if he will ever be capable of loving you the way you deserve. (After all, what has he ever given you but lies and deceit?)

Astarion watches as you take a deep bow, laughing all the while as Wyll claps at your performance, and something inside him churns with an unfamiliar bitterness. Jealousy? Envy, perhaps. (Of who– maybe Wyll, maybe you, maybe both.)

But then you bid Wyll farewell and turn to him, and your face lights up as bright as moonglow. Astarion hates the way his heart trembles at the sight of you. 

“Hey, you,” you say to him warmly, and a part of him wants to be spiteful– for invoking uncomfortable emotions he does not know how to deal with. The other half is simply glad that he has you at last. 

Bad habits are hard to break though. “I see Wyll has made you his latest dance partner,” he says, unable to remove his scathing tone. You are more surprised than upset at his sudden animosity, which is a boon in itself. You look at him curiously though, with eyes that see into him too well for his sake, before you reply.

“For practice.” You say carefully, “For somebody else.” Before Astarion can inquire on who, you change the subject. “Do you know how to dance?”

“I know enough.” He clears his throat, continuing, “Dancing is an easy way to proverbially and literally whisk someone off their feet after all.”

Your eyes brighten at his words, and Astarion begins to think your earlier joy was not because you were dancing with Wyll but because you love to dance in general. “You want to teach me how to dance?” Your smile reaches your eyes, as it always does for him. “I bet you know how to ballroom dance. That sounds dreamy enough for you.”

“Without music? Hardly a dance,” he tells you, but when he sees you deflate, he is quick to say more. “When there is a proper setting, you can be the first to witness my skills personally.” He finds it inconvenient that his mood shifts with yours, because when your countenance lifts with hopeful anticipation from his words, he finds himself pleased to have caused it. “For now, I think my words will suffice in charming you just fine, don't you think, darling?”

“Confident you still have more lines to give me?” You ask teasingly, and Astarion is nothing if not a proud performer.

“Every time I heard the tieflings cry, I remember how you sounded crying for me,” he recites sultrily. “And now all these accolades from the Harpers are nothing compared to the sound of my name uttered from your lips.”

There is that familiar look of embarrassment and delight again. You laugh in response, leaning your head into his shoulders bashfully. “You're too much,” you tell him, your arm pressed against his. He relaxes at the warmth from your touch. 

Guilt, envy, jealousy: he yearns for you despite everything he cannot be. In the end, he is but a selfish man at his core, and whatever he wants he will take. Until the moment you choose someone else to love and to hold, he will simply count down the hours till the sound of midnight chimes. But he will not let you go until then– and not a moment later. (Though perhaps if there is a person he can learn to love, it is you.)

Astarion goes on, line after line, if only to keep you here with him. “If you don't remember how much you enjoyed it last time, I would like to try again.” He lowers his voice to a whisper and watches as your eyes darken in response, “Until you can think of nothing else.”

“I hope,” Shadowheart interrupts with mirth, “you know he practices these lines when you're not here.” 

Astarion sputters, and he narrows his eyes in mild annoyance when he sees Shadowheart pass by with a knowing smile. “Excuse me-”

“If you wanted your practice to be a secret, you might want to be quieter next time.” Shadowheart pauses. “Or perhaps not set your tent next to mine?”

“I don't know, Shadowheart,” he croons, “perhaps you might benefit from learning a thing or two from my charms.”

“Rather doubtful–”

Astarion hears you laugh long and hard as the two of them bicker. It is difficult to come up with retorts when he cannot help but be besotted at the sound of your joy. He hopes it is not obvious to everyone else.

.

.

.

His worries seem all the more unimportant when they complete Shar's Trial. It turns out that the Nightsong is not a relic but an aasimar--Selûne's own daughter. Astarion already knows a fight lies in wait the moment Balthazar stops talking. After Balthazar swiftly joins the land of the dead, it is Shadowheart's faith that is put to trial. When she refuses to kill the aasimar, Astarion isn't sure he should be impressed she would deny her goddess or by how spectacularly her goddess lost her trust in the course of the journey. 

It's one of the reasons why he has never subscribed to the words of any god. What have the gods done for those who believed in them? Queen Vlaakith, who now swears to destroy Lae'zel despite her intrepid loyalty. Selûne, who could not save Ketheric's wife and daughter or her own child from a hundred years of captivity. Shar, who took advantage of the grief in Ketheric and innocence in Shadowheart for her own means. Mystra, who plucked Gale from a young age and cultivated him into a man who never felt like he was enough. 

There is simply no use relying on them for anything. For what can they offer to him now when none has answered him once in the past two hundred years? 

Astarion thinks you feel similarly. You could have easily been a cleric, a healer of the people blessed by the gods. But instead, you walk the path of the paladin, an oath created not in servitude to a higher being but to the weak and vulnerable. (Even then Astarion thinks that is too restricting for him, bound to do good by others no matter the situation. Believe him, he's already been on his best behavior by not pointing the sharp end of his dagger at anyone who tries to trifle with them.)

He once believed that your heart could know no evil, so being a paladin was easy. But he has grown to know you like the curve of his bow, and you are no saint. You become angry at others, yell and curse, and gods, you had the attitude to match him from the very beginning so he should have known even then. 

But perhaps it is because you are like anyone else that your ability to keep your oath shines far brighter than any devotion to a god. It is a part of you that no one can take away, and it is a concept that both amazes and discomfits Astarion in equal measure.

Even now at the top of Moonrise Towers, you still hold mercy in your heart for a man like Ketheric. Of course you would sympathize with a heart like his, twisted and mangled beyond repair because of love and grief. Astarion wonders how long Ketheric Thorm has gone without anyone trying to understand him? A hundred years at least, since the death of his wife and child, and here comes a wayward paladin and their party of four, giving him a chance for redemption. 

Astarion watches as Ketheric Thorm, the human he was, falls without a fight, and in his place, rises the undead chosen of Myrkul.

They've gone from fighting goblins to living machinery to literal shadows. To think those pales in comparison to the avatar of necromancy before them, all bones and scent of death. It would be so easy to be afraid, but then Astarion looks at you, lips moving in a silent prayer for courage, and he finds it less daunting to know that you can continue to move on despite your fear.

You are quick to dispatch the party: a group to free Dame Aylin from her shackles and another to start the fight against Myrkul. As Astarion sees Wyll, Shadowheart, and Jahiera teleport themselves closer to the aasimar, he knows quickly what team he's on. (“We work well together, you know,” he told you once after knocking down the goblin camp. He finds it somewhat comforting to know that statement is still true today.) 

“Ready?” You ask him, a scroll of dimensional door in your hands. 

“Darling,” he drawls, long bow in hand, “I thought you'd never ask.”

It ends up being a hard battle: cold, grasping hands of death from the unliving attack from all sides, the avatar of Myrkul summoning horrors beyond comprehension when they get close enough. And still, Astarion's hands remain steady as they aim deadly arrows toward a deity until it falls just like anybody else. 

“It's over,” he hears you breathe out, eyes wide as Ketheric falls to his knees for the very last time. It is a horrible sight to see a man in his last minutes, soul broken by grief and the gods that took advantage of that, and body broken by the aasimar he deceived in turn. Still, when your hand finds his in the aftermath of such horrors, he understands two things: he has never cared for someone like you before in his life, and all things must come to an end. 

It is only a matter of when. 

(And a third thing– Astarion understands Ketheric Thorm more than he realizes. For what are they both if not selfish, foolish men willing to do everything to keep what is theirs?)

.

.

.

They stay behind to help the Harpers rebuild the Last Light Inn. It's enough time to see where allegiances lie, who is to join them for the final act in Baldur's Gate, and to see the glimpse of the shadow-land curse ebbing away. Astarion doesn't know who, but someone suggests a celebration of victory as an ode to those who had fallen, and suddenly life is breathed into the land and its people. 

He's always loved a good party and he figures everybody feels the same. He can only hope the wine that's provided is even a smidgen better than the one in the druid grove. And he deserves a break– all of them do. Astarion watches as the Alfira and Lakrissa drag you away to some pre-celebratory hangout during the event's setup and cannot find it in himself to be anything but amused. 

As it turns out, in between the cobwebbed walls and doom-and-gloom, Moonrise Towers has plenty to offer for the celebration. The leftover rations– whatever is still good after the battle anyways– serve as the basis of a banquet. The old and dusty black and white robes and attires of the Selûnites that once occupied this place are still in good condition, if you discount the mothballs and eaten up bits. 

It makes for a nice change in pace for many at least, though Astarion thinks he'd rather wear something with embroidery than don a goddess’ servants outfit no matter how nice it is. It is a good thing Shadowheart is not quite Sharran or else there would be quite an upset. She is more preoccupied by her conversation with Dame Aylin than with the festivity preparations, but he knows she will join in due time if you have anything to say about it.

In the quiet bustle before the banquet, people flit back and forth, busy. Whether they are preparing the necessary things for the celebration, healing the wounded, making the burial grounds, or getting drunk ahead of the game, there is something to do. Astarion finds himself in the last category nursing a cup of wine and watching the processions, His Majesty curled up at his feet. 

The last person he expects to make time to speak with him is Wyll.

“Care for some company?” Wyll asks with a smile.

Astarion shrugs, hiding his surprise behind his nonchalance. “I suppose the wine can be shared.”

Wyll nods. “Much thanks,” he says, allowing Astarion to pour him half a glass before taking a cursory sip. Astarion follows after him, though he watches Wyll carefully in the corner of his eyes. 

“I've hunted demons,” Wyll begins, “orthons, devils, and monsters. When I met our leader, I never expected to eventually fight against a God. Did you?”

Astarion lets out an airy laugh. “Knowing who we're following, I can't say I'm too surprised.” He waves his hand flippantly before crossing his arms. “Goes to show even Gods can fall… and that paladins seek nothing but trouble.”

Wyll laughs at that, and Astarion tries to not make it seem like he's almost dropped the glass. “Makes you hopeful, doesn't it?” Wyll tells him, “That there's nothing that cannot be done at their side?”

And there it is, Astarion thinks wryly. Their single point of similarity lies in their affections for you. He was wondering why the righteous Blade of Frontiers was making conversation. But still, with the jealousy that swirls low in the pit of his stomach, he thinks of you and the miracles you have created from seemingly nothing and warmth spreads and overtakes any and all bitterness.

“Astarion,” Wyll starts, faltering for the first time. Astarion barely has enough time to turn to him when he continues to greater incredulity. “I was wrong about you. Truly wrong about you.”

What? Astarion stares at him for a moment before he realizes he's taking a moment too long. Being snarky comes like second nature. “Let me guess,” he drawls, “you thought I'd sucked blood, but instead I just suck. Was that your witty jab?”

“No! I mean it,” Wyll says. He is sincere as he always is, and Astarion wants to sneer at it, if only he wasn't reminded of you. (He's grown used to people saying what they mean, and part of him is scared of it.) “There's little between us we share, but you've fallen in love and stood by your lover. This is something this dreamer's heart can appreciate.” 

Wyll means you, he realizes. You and him: lovers. It seems to become less of a lie with each coming day if Karlach and now Wyll seem to see right through him. “I– thank you,” Astarion replies, bewildered, “I suppose.” 

“Pay it no mind,” Wyll tells him, clinking his glass to his. “After all the fighting we've done, it puts a lot of things in perspective. I don't want to leave things unsaid nor undone.”

Astarion snorts into his glass; hardly a charming gesture but he finds it easier to be less than such these days. “See, that's where you and I can agree on!” He says slyly, “Is that where all your night time dancing practices have been for? To woo your love at the first chance you get?”

Wyll coughs into his hand, and Astarion watches in glee as he grows embarrassed. “I hope you haven't seen me in the earlier nights; I was quite horrendous.” He sighs. “I can only pray that no one else has noticed besides you and our leader… I was hoping to keep it a secret until later.”

“Knowing our camp, it was never a secret to begin with,” Astarion says dryly.

“I just…” Wyll continues almost wistfully, “I want to give her something to look forward to. She deserves the world after everything she's been through– let alone a dance to truly and well whisk her away.”

Astarion can see the lovestruck gleam in Wyll's eyes as he talks, and he recognizes that look not when he looks at you but instead… “Karlach?” He asks, watching as the mighty Blade of Frontiers fidgets in place, “So you've been practicing your dances for Karlach?” His smile widens not unlike a cat who has captured a canary, both from the fact he has nothing to fear from Wyll and from the way he now has the ammunition to tease the man. So this is what it means to kill two kobolds with one stone. “I hope you haven't been practicing other things without her too.”

“Astarion, please.”

It's moments like these when Wyll is trying to sink into the floor from mortification that he is reminded how young the warlock is. He never imagined talking about love with him of all things, but here they are– it surely isn't the strangest situation he's been through. “I'm sure Karlach would be happy to have you ask her to dance, skills be damned.”

“I'm sure,” Wyll says warmly, “but I want to give her only the best, if I can.”

And if that wasn't another sentiment Astarion has grown familiar with.

Before guilt can sink his mood, Astarion clears his throat. “You wouldn't happen to have a few dancing lessons in store for your fellow companion, would you, darling?”

Wyll is kind enough to not say anything to his question, though the knowing looks he gives Astarion throughout his guidance is reminiscent of Karlach that he escapes as soon as he is able. With the party soon underway, more people come into the main floor with fresh attire. Alcohol is poured and music is played with Alfira leading the fray. Lakrissa, never far from her lady bard, meets his gaze and nods her head upward. 

“Upstairs,” Lakrissa tells him with a wide smile. “They're doing some finishing touches. I'm sure they won't mind if you get them.”

There is that damned knowing look again, he thinks, walking up the stairs. He pauses for a moment halfway up, gazing at the party quickly underway and at the people he has met thus far. He spots Dammon and Karlach talking near the door, Wyll across the room building his courage to ask her to dance. Shadowheart and Lae'zel sit at the bar drinking in surprising camaraderie next to Rolan and his siblings, still ribbing him in usual manner. Harpers are scattered in the room, Jaheira to the side watching on after having said her goodbyes prior; she will be joining their party to Baldur's Gate, after all. 

Halsin was preoccupied with Thaniel so he may or may not be joining them later on, though Astarion doubts he would disappoint you by not showing up. Not seeing Gale in the midst if the celebration is strange, considering how much more eager he is to converse with others. Astarion's pondering answers itself when he sees Gale exit your room.

“Ah, there you are,” Gale greets him cheerily. “They're about done with their preparations– they thought they'd ask me for my opinions on their appearance. And despite my admitted inexperience in the matter, I hope I did my due diligence in reassuring them they looked fine. The rest is up to you, I'm afraid.” He puts a hand on Astarion's shoulder and squeezes lightly, and the look in his eyes grows somber for just a moment. “Treat them well.”

If he had a heart still, it would pang with guilt. “Don't I always?” Astarion says airily, and Gale gives him another pat and a wide smile.

“That you do, my friend,” Gale says warmly. “I am ever glad to see my two good companions happy together. Best wishes to you both.”

Gale leaves him and Astarion stands outside your door, unsure what he is waiting for. He peeks inside, watching as you tinker with your jewelry in the mirror. In the reflection he sees you in all your glory. You are beautiful as ever in your evening attire, simultaneously dashing in your knightly way as you are beautiful and warm and real. You notice him in the mirror and turn to smile at him, and guilt settles into him like lead.

You deserve more, he thinks with finality, and Astarion knows then he can no longer delay the inevitable, despite himself. You must know the truth about his intentions for you, even if it pushes you away from him and renders your protection for him. You deserve nothing less but his honesty. He only wishes he were not so cowardly as to have done it sooner, if only to not ruin the rest of your night. 

(But the truth is, Astarion has a little hope that you will still love him despite it all– because he thinks he wants something real with you too.) 

“There you are,” you say warmly, walking up to him. “Are you ready to dance?” You take his hand in yours, and he holds onto you for dear life. 

"I was waiting for you,” he tells you weakly. He squeezes your hand as if asking for strength. “Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk."

Lovely as you are, you are nothing but concerned for him. "Yeah, sure! Are you okay?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine,” he tells you automatically. Deflection comes easily for him. “I just-- feel awful."

Your sympathy is almost too much to bear that Astarion musters up the will to push forward before your compassion weakens his resolve. He must confess now or he never will. He swallows painfully.

"Look, I had a plan,” he begins to explain, “a nice simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me." He lets out a shaky laugh– entirely inappropriate and unreflective of his feelings, but what else is he to do? Does he even deserve to show you how much turmoil he has gone through to reach this point in telling you? 

"It was easy,” he continues, trying to ignore the way his chest twists painfully when he sees you flinch, hurt. “Instinctive.” He lets your hand fall from his as he gesticulates, weaving his story dramatically in the only way he knows how lest he feel too much. Your arms draw themselves in as if to brace yourself for a blow, and all Astarion can think is that he must– he must continue on for better or worse. He cannot bear doing this a second time. 

“Habits from 200 years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it,” he tells you. Astarion feels his voice shake. “And all I had to do was not fall for you. That was where my nice, simple plan fell apart."

He sees a flicker of something in your eyes as he finishes. He can't quite place what it is– he can hardly begin to process how he's feeling at the moment. But the truth is finally out in the open, and the tension in his body is pulled taut like a bow string as he waits for your response. He wants so desperately to make excuses, to go on about anything that would salvage his relationship with you, but he won't. You have been patient with him time and time again, and it is only fair for him to do the same.

No one ever told him how hard it would be though. To wait. You stand only a foot away from him and yet the distance between the two of you feels vast.

"...So,” you begin quietly, “did the nights we spend together... did they mean anything then?"

You're ridiculous, he thinks, almost laughing in fond incredulity. He half expected you to storm out of the room, demanding he never speak to you again. The fact you are still talking it through with him is more than he could ever ask for. "Of course it did,” Astarion tells you fervently. “That's the problem. Or part of it. You–” His voice catches with emotion. “You're incredible. You deserve something real.” 

He watches as you blink in rapid succession, willing the tears that come easily to you away. Astarion thinks about the way you yearn for simple touches, sweet romances, and true love. And even if he does not yet know how to love you the way you want, he knows this: “I want us to be something real."

Astarion reaches his hands out to meet yours before he realizes it is happening. The utter relief he feels when you close the distance (so small yet so far) between the two of you is insurmountable. He thinks you can feel the way his hands shake when you hold onto them. Or is that you? He thinks, savoring the warmth seeping into his skin. No matter– nothing else matters but the way you are still here with him now.

"So do I,” you say wetly. “More than anything."

Astarion knows better than to look into a gift horse's mouth, but it is in his nature to question when good things happen to him. His question comes out quietly, disbelieving, "Really?" 

And he can see your expression soften-- not of pity or sympathy-- just affection as you huff good naturedly, as though he were just absolutely silly for doubting you. "Yes, of course," you say, cupping his face just as gently before you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. 

You are warm in his arms with the sweet scent of lilac. 

When was the last time he has been held like this, he wonders. Without precontext for sex or expectations for something more. Like when he was helpless but to see you preoccupied with others, it is in times like these Astarion realizes he is inexperienced when it comes to affection in its purest form. It makes him… lost in a way, to know what he does not know. 

[Can he tell, you wonder, that you've been wanting to hold him like this from the very beginning? To make him feel safe. To let him know he has nothing to worry about, at least when it comes to you. You hold him tightly, and if love could be poured out from you to another, you would have it spill over and more.]

But you don't seem to care. You never have. Giving little bits of affection to him wherever he can accept it without expecting anything given back. He wants to learn how to be with you starting now.

Moving his arms around you to embrace you is unfamiliar, but his hands find purchase on your back, palms flat and firm. Your heart against his chest beats steadily, and Astarion finds that he doesn't want this moment to end. He feels vulnerable in a way he has not felt in a long time, if ever. Everything seems easier to say to you, now that you accept him, flawed as he is. 

"I just,” he begins quietly, “don't know what real looks like, not after two hundred years of playing the rake. Being close to someone, any kind of intimacy, was something I performed to lure people back for him.” 

He feels you pull away, but only for a moment before you are holding his hands gently. He continues, “Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels tainted.” He feels his mouth twist at the word, and he looks down, shame burning his tongue despite himself. “Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing.”

“I don't know how else to be with someone,” he confesses, “no matter how much I'd like to.”

Silence fills the space the two of you take up. It would feel suffocating if not for the way you rub his hands with your thumbs, grounding him to this moment. It feels so easy to just run away, but he stands with you until you find the words to speak. You tell him finally, “You are important to me no matter what you're going through.” His breath catches. “And if that sort of intimacy makes you feel uncomfortable, we can be together without sleeping together for as long as you need.”

You are firm with your words, and Astarion blinks away wetness in his eyes and tries to reach for levity as he always does. “Why, that almost sounds like a challenge,” he says, and when you do a little laugh, he feels lighter. 

The two of you are by no means a perfect union. Far from it: who would ever imagine a vampire rogue and a devoted paladin to be a match for each other? And yet, you want to make the two of you work. He wants it to work, whatever it is they are. Rather than fear or apprehension, he finds himself in anticipation for an unknown destination with you by his side. 

(It feels a little bit like death, in a good way. To imagine this is how people feel all the time– excited and terrified all at once; how do they all do it?)

Astarion lets out a laugh of his own. "Honestly, I have no idea what we're doing. Or what comes next,” he says. He raises his hands where they are connected to you. "But I know that this? This is nice."

Your smile is wobbly with emotion, and your eyes shining with an affection that Astarion has grown familiar with. "Dance with me?”

Astarion responds by taking one of your hands and placing a kiss at your knuckle. The smile he receives from you is daylight and he basks in its presence. “Shall I take the lead this time, darling?”

“Only just this once,” you tease, and he is almost giddy at the banter. Oh, how quickly the two of you begin anew, as if no hurt has been done. Eyes wet with emotion now dry and upturned from mirth as Astarion dramatically presents your hand, walking down the stairs to join in the banquet.

How ridiculous mankind is, for celebrating while their fate looms over the horizon at Baldur's Gate. How incredulous people are for still holding onto hope even when hope seems all but lost. Astarion still thinks it unwise to trust others in a world where only the strongest survive, but perhaps he has changed just a bit if he thinks it is not quite so impossible to believe in it himself. 

He is not healed– and he feels he will not be for some time, not as long as Cazador still lives. But much like the shadow-cursed land, he feels as though he is healing. At your side, with his hand on your waist and the other entwined with yours to twirl you on a wooden dance floor as you laugh until you are breathless– he can finally try.

And perhaps that is all that matters.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

(Sleeping beneath the stars, a night before reaching Baldur's Gate, Astarion thinks about how you have given him precious, impossible moments of comfort. He had only expected to have a few more before an untimely death but after time and time again, the two of you live. 

But just how long will that luck last? 

With Cazador, the two avatars of death, and the elder brain looming over their fates, Astarion feels a fear unlike what he has ever faced, for he has far more to lose than just himself now. It suffocates him. Because he is not good enough- not strong enough. Not for you, not for Cazador, nor for the gods that never answered him. 

Unless…

If he takes Cazador's power for his own, if he can ascend and become a creature far beyond a true vampire… he can finally keep the two of you safe– for good. From all the evils of the world, from the Cazadors, from whoever dares to threaten the two of you.

Whoever must be sacrificed to make it happen be damned. Astarion will be selfish enough for the two of you. 

A part of him wonders if you will still love him then.)

[truly-sincerely]

I really want to be able to talk Karlach out of wanting to kill Gortash before we're standing in front of him. The same way you can kind of just be nice to Shadowheart and trust her to decide not to sacrifice the Nightsong on her own. Or Gale stops offering to blow himself up under certain circumstances.

It's about perpetuating the cycles of abuse!

At the inauguration she says "Thanks to you, I don’t hope for things anymore. I just take whatever it is I want," and when you find his parents she says "When you get fucked up, you fuck up right back," and I think those two lines are just unbelievably sad. Like that's the lesson he learned. You're supposed to learn a different one. Prove him wrong.

C'mon Karlach, look inward. You know what would've felt better and might have actually got thru to Gortash? Tell him that he didn't break your spirit, that you still help people, and (fuck it, we ball) you're taking him back to hell with you after this is over.

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Chapter 9: Before Reaching Baldur's Gate

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Act 2, Canon-typical violence, consent, cw: alcohol

WC: 1.7k words, 9/18 chapters

Summary: Set during that one rest between Act 2 and Act 3 -- they talk about consent a bit, establishing their hug-boundaries.

Ao3 | [Hug8][Hug10] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

Tonight you’ve set up camp in a fortress, just one sleep away from your final destination: Baldur’s Gate. You’ve never been so anxious, so excited, felt so many different emotions, just from staring at the city you call home.

It’s been a difficult journey, one that your companions have felt just as deeply as you have. So when you see the city illuminated in the distance, you know it’s a welcome sight for you all– a true victory, one that not even the Absolute can take from you.

As their de facto leader, you know this is a time for the group to celebrate its win. And you just know that the view from the battlements is better than anything you can get from your tents down here. “Hey!” you call out to your group. A few perk up from their nightly routines, several start to walk over. “Who wants to climb that tower over there? I bet you we can see all of Baldur’s Gate from up there.”

It doesn’t take long before the entire party is clamoring up the ladder to reach the heights above you. Not even Gale, who’s making the entire climb through groans and cries about his bad knees, would miss this view.

You’re the first to reach the top, leading the pack up and climbing with practiced efficiency. As soon as you raise your head, your breath catches. It’s beautiful, you think to yourself. And it truly is, lit up like the beacon of hope you know it to be. Home.

As you walk to the edge of the tower, you can hear your companions filing in behind you. “There it is! Even after a decade, it’s lovely as ever!” Karlach extols enthusiastically.

“I’ve only been away for seven years, but my heart is no less elated,” Wyll responds, his eye crinkling in excitement.

“I’ve only been away for a few months, and I don’t understand how adventurers do this for years,” Astarion grumbles. “You both must have backs made of steel to sleep on the ground this often.” He easily takes his place next to you, arms-crossed, shoulder nudging yours ever so slightly as he stops. You nudge back a bit, but continue to stare out into the slumbering city, listening to your companions banter.

Karlach laughs a bit bitterly before saying, “Didn’t have much of a choice. Though I will say that you hardly notice what you’re sleeping on when you’re busy destroying demons.”

“Well, I still notice while destroying cultists,” the vampire responds, voice tinged with annoyance. Then to you he asks, “And what are you so enchanted by?” He leans into you more, and your body ends up at an awkward angle.

“We're so close," you say, simply, allowing yourself to rest on the crenellation next to you for balance. As it so often happens with him, you’re reminded of a cat demanding attention. “Aren’t you looking forward to it?”

He scoffs, lightly jostling you as he does so. “Of course I am, Cazador won’t know what’s coming for him.”

You grin at that, recalling your earlier conversations with Astarion, who was so worried that fighting Cazador would be impossible. Your group has faced the impossible now, facing a mad vampire lord seemed right within your grasp. “Damn right,” you say, finally turning to look at him, only to find his face incredibly close, eyes staring at you intently. “What’s the matter?”

Astarion looks back at the rest of your group, conversing amongst themselves, pointing out buildings in the cityscape, otherwise wholly preoccupied. Satisfied, he turns back to you and pouts. “Darling, would it kill you to hug me every once in a while?”

You startle, what is he talking about? Thinking back, you’re certain you hug him quite a bit, more than once in a while. You say as much, “Love, is your head alright? I swear I gave you a hug just yesterday.”

He continues to lean into you, but keeps his arms firmly crossed. “Yes, of course you hug me back,” he starts, tone explanatory. “But you barely ever hug me first. I can only think of one such instance and, while I much appreciated it, I would appreciate more.”

His words ring true, you realize. You’re not sure how much of it is a choice that you’ve consciously made or if it’s born of your underlying worry. It hasn’t been long since you entered this new phase in your relationship, and the past couple of weeks have been a lot of trial and error to get to a place of some comfort and understanding. As such, you know exactly why you’ve been careful, consciously or not. “I don’t want to touch you if you’re not ready for it,” you say, tilting your head toward his, whispering your words away from the rest of the group.

The vampire freezes a moment, his eyebrows knitting into a look of concern. “While I appreciate the sentiment, darling, a hug isn’t exactly carnal.”

You give him a flat look. “Of course it isn’t,” you respond back. “But it’s still… intimate. You should be allowed to decide when that happens. If you hug me, I know you want it to happen.”

Astarion finally uncrosses his arms, only to rub at his temple in exasperation. “Ugh, you’re being disgustingly considerate,” he says, closing his eyes. “It’s times like this that I wonder how we’ve even gotten this far.”

“Hey!” you exclaim in indignation. Lowering your voice again, you continue, “You know you’re the only one I’m this considerate to. I even told Gale we don’t have time for his little shopping trip.”

The vampire opens his eyes and shoots you a wry smile. “Ah, the very epitome of an unflinching leader. Besides, we both know you’ll give in to him anyway.”

“I will not,” you say, without much conviction.

“Regardless,” he says, holding up a hand. “I appreciate your kindness, but I am not a porcelain doll– as much as I may look it.” Astarion tilts his head up, as if to catch the starlight in his silver hair.

Pursing your mouth, you consider his words. Have I been too careful? “I… know that. I’m sorry, love. I’ll work on that, alright?”

“I know how you could start,” his eyes twinkle at you expectantly. 

“With a hug?”

“Yes, gods, just hug me already.”

Some part of you still worries, still hesitates, but in the light of Astarion’s pleading expression they melt away a bit. Facing the silhouette of the city you both call home, you wrap an arm around him and pull him into your side. “Like this?” you turn to ask him, noses almost touching.

“Mmm, it shall do,” he answers softly, leaning into your hug, touching his nose to yours for a moment before looking out at the city. “What a romantic scene we've stumbled into. I can see why bards write about it.”

You hum in agreement, tilting your head to touch his. “Maybe if we save this gods forsaken city a few bards will pick up our tale.”

“In that case,” he starts, finally wrapping his own arm around you, squeezing you to him. “We’d best make it memorable.”

You stand in each others’ arms for a while, occasionally pointing at the city as you spot places you’d like to share with each other. You’re not sure how long you spend staring out at Baldur’s Gate together before your companions jolt you back to reality.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” You both turn in unison without hesitation to the source of the interruption, Karlach. Her and the rest of the group have gathered back at the ladder.

It’s Shadowheart that responds, “It’s getting a bit chilly up here. What do you say we pop open a bottle of wine and celebrate our return home?”

“As long as it’s not firewine,” you reply, shuddering at the idea of drinking any more of that swill. Pulling Astarion by the torso, you start to move toward the group.

He tugs you back gently, ignoring your questioning eyes to call to the group, “We’ll be down in a bit, not done here quite yet.”

“Suit yourselves! But take too long and I will drink all the good shit!” Karlach says, laughing as she heads down the ladder. The rest follow right behind her, their words and footsteps fading on the night’s breeze.

Once they’ve left, you look back at your lover, eyebrow raised. “And what aren’t we done with yet?”

“Our hug, obviously,” he says, waving his free hand at you. “Or did you really think a paltry one-armed hug would satisfy a man of such appetites?”

You only take a second to process his words before gladly diving into him with both of your arms. You wrap Astarion in an all-encompassing embrace, a vice-grip full of love and warmth. “Better?” you ask, turning your head to the crook of his neck.

“Much,” he sighs into your hair, reciprocating the hug with no hesitation. A moment passes in a silent buzz of happiness, before he speaks again. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding ridiculous,” he begins. “But here, in your arms, it almost feels like I’ve already made it back home.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, but you’ve gotten better at surviving his sincere compliments. “You’re right, I should hug you more often.”

“I knew you would see reason,” he laughs. “And if you're ever worried about hugging me, you're quite welcome to ask. Now, since you always ask so nicely, would you allow me to kiss you?”

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you nod. “Yes, please.”

Astarion smiles at you, an unfiltered joy shining in his eyes. His cool fingers cup your chin as he pulls your face toward his. Your eyes close as your lips meet his in a slow, tender kiss. With the city as your backdrop and this lovely man in your arms, the world feels more focused, your purpose clearer. Baldur’s Gate awaits you, and you’ve never been so eager to answer its call.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Evie (Ace!Tav) Playthrough Day 4

(I love Evie in this fit)

Day 1… Day 3- Day 5

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

For the uninitiated, I wrote a Tav well before I ever had a chance to play the game. Now, I finally can and thought it might be fun for my first play through to be as that Tav. Or, at least as much as the game play will allow me.

These are just some of my notes and scattered highlights that I thought would be fun to share.

Let me know if you think if I should continue this and any suggestions you might have.

So much happened you guys holy shit!!!

Technically this is a combination of two days, since I didn't have time last night and figured I'd wait until after I played some more today (there is just so much of this game I feel like two hour sessions barely scratch the surface)

First off, it took me way too long to figure out how to deactivate the traps in the back cavern in the Emerald Grove

Legitimately nearly died twice; if it weren't for my saves I would have

Not ashamed to admit, I needed to google it; I have never claimed to be a "gamer"

Still got it sorted (and if anybody knows how to get to that center bit in the middle of the cavern, please let me know)

After that decided to go after best girl Karlach

Ran into the Owl Bear cave first and I am upset

I *really* didn't want to kill the Owl Bear mama, but even with non-lethal damage the cub still eats it's mother; seems like it all is the same in the end

I'm now thinking more and more that Evie and Shadowheart get to be good friends; Evie takes a more benefit of the doubt approach to people, and I don't think she knows enough about the Gods and Shar specifically to have many thoughts on the subject

I've been purposefully handing all the books and other info to whoever else is there so Evie doesn't get the info from reading

Lae'zel and Shadowheart are also majorly at each other's throats in the first act

Lae'zel also would not be a fan of Evie; Evie comparatively talks way too much for Lae'zel's taste (+11 to Persuasion will do that to a person) (did I mention I love bards)

Did eventually get to Karlach and she's so great guys! I knew I was going to love her, but I *love* her

She deserves to wreck the Paladins of Tyr hide out, as a treat

(That one bitch was giving me so much trouble, thank God for Wyll's Eldritch Blast or we would have been spending all our actions just trying to keep up)

I am once again faced with not being able to punch a ginger bitch because of *consequences*

Also, I hate all the options they give you when talking to Wyll after he's transformed into a devil

None of this is what Evie would say to him!

Either way though, I am secure in the fact that Wyll would like Evie (even if he's not a fan of her trust in Astarion)

So, one long rest later and we're heading towards the Blighted Villiage; Astarion, Gale and Karlach in toe

Came across the boar and Astarion really is so suspicious

I also think at this point Astarion really doesn't know what to make of Evie; placing her in category bleeding heart no doubt and not certain of her abilities

She's a good talker, as she's able to convince the goblins to let them pass without a fight

On the other hand, she did assists Gale with his little problem, sacrificing a necklace of Dancing Lights

Also it doesn't help that she was nice to a gnome

I think what starts to change his mind though is when they meet Raphael on the road

I really do wish you could give Gur as a background, because even if Evie didn't grow up in the caravan, I do think just culturally she'd pick up on stuff

Not trusting devils I'm sure is top of the list

I wasn't expecting to have Evie so viscerally mistrusting of Raphael, but it felt right to play it that way

I'm not sure who he'd remind her of in her past, but I do think there is something beyond just him being a devil that rubs her the wrong way

Either way, her rejection of a devil's bargain that would not only enslave her, but likely them as well, even in exchange for a cure does re-color some things

Not sure where to insert this in the grand scheme of the narrative, but Evie did let Astarion open the door on the orger and hobgoblin

Evie's talking did not help in this situation

I know the narrative makes it clear what's happening, but I'm thinking Evie might have had a random ace blind spot moment

Like she's not totally naive about sex, but when it's usually the last thing on your mind (and you just talked with a devil), it's not the first thing you picture at the sound of banging

Not her smoothest moment; (honestly the sudden violence is a god send for everyone not to ask her more questions about it)

Either way, went back to the grove with some of the infernal iron and got Karlach stabilized at least

I love Karlach and Wyll's friendship, I support wholesome ships; low key starting to ship her with Dammon though

He's real cute, Karlach deserves a nice guy, and you know he'd roll with the punches

Another long rest later and we're here

The scene

I've been thinking about the build up to this scene

Obviously we know in origins it's after Astarion has a vision of Cazador and wanting to push the limits of his new found freedom by going against one of his rules

But I keep coming back to why Evie

Astarion can likely smell something being wrong with Gale's blood, Wyll just turned into a devil and would likely kill him, Karlach's blood is literal fire, and Lae'zel would also absolutely kill him

That leaves Shadowheart and Evie

Shadowheart is a big question mark to him; she follows Shar, maybe she might even like being bitten

But then there's Evie who has shown time and time again that she wants to help

This is about survival after all, and it would only be a taste

IDK, exploring it; add it to the list of possible future fics

But Evie obviously does wake up and does allow Astarion to bite her

As for Evie's motivations as to why, yes, Astarion is a prickly bastard, but he's in the same boat as the rest of them

If he wanted to hurt them, surely he would have done it by now

She recognizes the look in his eyes, Gods know she's worn it enough; the man is starving, the fact he hasn't done anything until now says a lot

This is definitely the shift in her and Astarion's relationship where they start to actually warm up to each other

So next morning gang wakes up, Evie stands up to Astarion saying she trusts him and heads out again towards the goblin camp; Shadowheart, Astarion and Lae'zel in toe

So Evie's current standing with the party;

Gale has disclosed his condition and gotten the first magical item; high rating with Evie, thinks of her as somebody who he can not only trust, but as someone who has shown bravery and true kindness (not to mention eloquence); maybe starting to form an...appreciation

Wyll has turned into a devil and certainly likes Evie, but maybe a little doubtful in her trust in Astarion and some dealings with the goblins

Shadowheart; genuinely trusts Evie as she's revealed her ambitions as a follower of Shar, and used the artifact in front of Evie in order to protect them from the influence of The Absolute (also might be starting to crush on her, but Evie has not been taking the opportunity to flirt)

Karlach: too soon to tell, but seems like a good person

Lae'zel: not a fan, too weak willed and doesn't know her place; talks too much

Astarion; unsure, certainly knows he can trust her now, to an extent; still too much of a bleeding heart, but then again, it's helped him; at the very least she knows to draw the line with devils and willing to kill to stay alive, over all a fair ally to have

Oh! I can't believe I forgot about my new best boy!

Scratch!

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Who's the little mouse?

Short fic based on this post. The opportunity to drag this bastard through the redemption arc kicking and screaming is too delicious to pass up.

"Now who's the mouse again?"

You felt a well-deserved grin worm its way onto your face as you stared down at the devil at your feet.

Raphael didn't say a word, only looked at you with the most spiteful glare he could muster. It didn't look very threatening, what with the broken horn, bleeding lip, and swollen eye.

"Bravo," Raphael spat out, some blood staining his doublet, "what are you waiting for then, hm?" He gave you a grimace of a smile. He tried to sound confident but you heard the waver in his voice. Raphael knows what happens to demons in hell. You know it too.

You almost felt sorry for him. The devil had his charm even with his ass kicked like that. It was ridiculous, this man had a mansion powered by tortured souls, and yet... killing him felt wrong. Not undeserved you just had a feeling that it should not end like that.

Just then, Gale cleared his throat,

"Come now, let's finish what we've started. This orb isn't getting any more stable and we still have to decide what to do with the crown."

Right, Crown of Karsus. A mighty mcguffin all these big fish in this pond called Baldur's Gate hunt for. You still don't quite understand how it works but you got the idea from Gale's lectures.

And just like that, an idea formed in your head. An idea so devious, so cruel it will make Raphael wish he was dead. Your smile must've slipped into a dangerous category because you noticed the devil visibly flinch whilst looking at you.

"Gale, c'mere." You beckoned the wizard with your finger, a voice deceptively sweet.

The wizard gawked at you, "Uh, sure."

Amidst hushed whispers exchanged with the rest of your party a words like "Holy shit..." and "Are you nuts?!?" were thrown around but in the end, Gale took the crown and walked towards Raphael.

"Are you sure about this?" he called after you.

"Yep!" you sing-songed, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"You're actually scaring me, soldier."

"Just hurry up! I'm dying to see what happens, a-ha!"

Raphael wasn't sure what transpired between you and your comrades but he was smart enough to know he was not gonna like it. In the last, desperate attempt he tried to scare off the wizard who was chanting some gibberish and wielding an object he worked so hard to get his hands on.

"No! Stay back! Do you know who I am?!? You will regret-aaaaarrggghhh!!!!"

A white-hot searing pain went through his entire body as if his very cells were rearranged, and then...nothing.

This emptiness wasn't what he imagined. Surely black tendrils would rise from the ground, dragging him to some archdemon to feast on. Instead, it was like he was dreaming, almost as if he could wake up at any time.

Hold on...

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" A booming voice shook him up from his slumber.

Raphael jerked up. With sunlight blinding him, the whole world spinning and his imminent death postponed, the devil was more confused than ever.

"Wha-what's going on? Where am I?" The devil fumbled, his glib tongue abandoning him.

"We're on our way to Baldur's Gate," another voice chimed in, too familiar and amused for his likings.

He turned his head and zeroed in on the man lounging on the crates behind him. Raphael knows this man, the fool who sold his soul to Mizora.

"Glad you're awake. We thought you were never gonna open your eyes again. Can't believe fucker's plan actually worked!"

He knew this voice too, Zariel's soldier, Karlach. Stupid enough to think she's free of her. Her words made Raphael pause.

"What is this plan you speak of?" He glared her way.

Karlach shrugged, completely unbothered that there was an archdevil in front of her, and jerked her head forward.

"Why don't you ask the boss?"

Thanks to these words, Raphael finally understood where he was - in a rickety wagon stuffed with junk and people he hated the most. Is this his form of hell??

Despite himself, Raphael stumbled to the front of the wagon, legs wobbly like a freshly born fawn. He felt so weak, what did these vermin do to him?!

He almost fell onto the driver's porch where he found you. His favorite mouse and the person who held all the answers.

You looked at him with an easy grin. That unnerved him the most. You always treated him to cold glares and disgusted snarks. Actually, everybody in the cart looked as if they knew a joke he did not. Raphael had enough of this charade.

"You'll tell me everything right now! Or I swear you'll burn with the hottest flames of hell!" He hissed into your ear.

You only gave him an amused side-eye, and kept your eyes on the road as you spurred the horses on, "Oh, yeah?"

He ignored the simmering in his belly at the challenge in your eyes. "Oh, yes..." He grasped your chin and turned you to look at him. "Now tell me-"

"Careful now, you keep leaning from the bench and you'll fall down and break your neck."

He chuckled darkly "Oh little mouse," he leaned close enough he could feel your breath on his lips, "someone like me can't be harmed with tha-aah!"

The world tilted on its axis and just like you said he was falling, arse first into the dirt. For a moment, Raphael just lay there, staring at the azure blue sky as he tried to comprehend all of these new sensations.

This shouldn't hurt, he should've killed all these sinners the moment he awoke, but when he tried to tap into the infinite pool of his demonic magic...it was empty.

What's happening?!?

You were the only decent enough to stop the wagon and rush to help him, the rest just laughed like fools.

To add insult to injury, the githyanki woman just looked down at him from her spot in the carriage and scoffed.

"Pathetic."

[mystique-6]

WIP Wednesday

Here is a sneak peak to chapter 8 of This is Me Trying. Am hoping to post this weekend but if not this weekend definitely next week.

Here is a link to the fic if you are interested in checking it out: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51645679/chapters/130551430

Ailis, Astarion, and Karlach moved into the room and collected a few things.

"I'll go put this in my bag," Karlach said moving out of the room. She picked her bag up off the chair. "I'll bring you yours."

"Karlach, wait!" Ailis cried rushing towards the door, but Karlach had already lifted the bag up and the door swiftly closed.

"Are we locked in here?" Astarion asked. There was a tension in his voice, but Ailis didn't notice. She could feel her own anxiety prickling under her skin.

"Sorry, soldier," Karlach called from the other side of the wall. "I'll get you out in a moment."

"Thanks," Ailis said, and then frowned when she heard a strange noise coming from the other room. It sounded like something was bouncing against the walls.

"Gale!" she heard Shadowheart snap.

"What's happening?" Ailis cried, worried.

"Everyone down!" Karlach shouted. Ailis heard the shuffle of bodies hitting the floor along with the bouncing noise.

"What's causing that noise?" Ailis questioned. She could feel a cold sweat beginning to cover her skin. No one responded and then she heard something shatter. "What was that? What broke?"

"Oh shit," she heard Karlach grumble.

"What? What's wrong?" Ailis called. She was pressed flat against the wall now, as if she were trying to phase through it.

"Hold on, Ailis," Karlach cried.

"Do you think it will still work?" Gale asked.

"Let's try it," Karlach said.

"Will what still work? Try what?" Ailis asked. Panic was clear in her voice.

"Damn!" Karlach exclaimed.

"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" she screeched.

"Gale lost control of a spell..."

"Why were you casting spells?" she cried.

"I saw a mouse. I went to stun it, but it moved and the spell bounced off the floor," Gale explained. "It hit one of the chairs that triggers the hidden door."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means we can't open the door," Shadowheart said.

"No, no, no, no, no," Ailis cried. "The door has to open. Try again!"

"The mechanic is broken, Ailis. We could try a hundred times and it won't work," Shadowheart replied.

"Please. Please get me out!" Ailis begged. "I can't...I can't..."

"Hey, hang in their soldier," Karlach said. "We're not going to leave you and Astarion in there. We'll get you out."

"How?" Ailis asked.

"I can cause an explosion to break the wall," Karlach said confidently.

"That could hurt or kill them," Shadowheart stated. "Gale, do you have a spell that'll open the door?"

"Not one that wouldn't put Ailis and Astarion at risk," he replied.

"Can you fix the chair?" Ailis asked.

"I don't know anything about these kinds of mechanics," Karlach said.

"Don't look at me," Shadowheart said.

"I'm afraid mechanics weren't apart of my studies," Gale added. Ailis groaned.

"What about that tiefling at the grove?" Lae'zel mentioned.

"Dammon? You met Dammon?" Shadowheart asked.

"I was inspecting his wares," Lae'zel said. "He deigned to provide me with unnecessary information I did not ask for."

"And some of that information makes you think he could help?" Ailis asked.

"He's a blacksmith, but he said he also repairs mechanics," Lae'zel replied.

"Oooh! Maybe he could help with my engine!" Karlach exclaimed.

"You can ask him when he provides aid here," Ailis said. "Give him whatever he wants for his services."

"We'll be right back, Ailis," Gale cried. "Stay right there."

"Where else is she supposed to go," she heard Shadowheart snap. Ailis kept her ear pressed against the wall and heard them walk away until it was completely silent on the other side. Her skin prickled under a cold sweat and she felt her chest begin to heave as her lungs began to take in too much oxygen. She knew a panic attack was about to overcome her, but she tried to hold it off. They would be back, she told herself. She'd be out of here before she knew it. She and Astarion...her panic attack came to a halt as she remembered she was not alone. Astarion was with her. She frowned as she realized she hadn't heard anything from him in the last few minutes.

Ailis turned and saw Astarion standing a few steps behind her. He was staring at the stone wall with wide, terrified eyes. He was standing completely still. She realized with a start he wasn't even breathing. It was unnerving and she felt uncomfortable with the reminder of what he was. She shelved it. He couldn't help that and he clearly needed help right now.

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

Let's Play Pretend

A/N: Karlach really wanted to make her thoughts known and this was the result. Full length on AO3 and as always happy reading

A/N2: If you ever wanna see specific scenarios feel free to poke my inbox :) im enjoying seeing where this goes

Let's Play Pretend

Gale tugged at the sleeve of his robe once more. He used to enjoy going to parties, granted it was often because he was performing feats of magic most people could only dream of doing. But the conversation was also stimulating. 

He wasn't meant to rub elbows with Lords and Ladies. Or rather, he didn't want to. And he was really only there because-

“Gale!” 

Gale let out a soft oof and chuckled as he was enveloped in Karlach’s arms. He hugged her back. She smelled less of sulfur and the hells this time around. More like oranges and sandalwood. It’s warm, but not a burning type that might sear his skin if he’s not careful. It’s comfortable. 

Familial. 

She was happy as they let go of each other. And he admired her choice of attire. Simple, elegant and entirely her. Her dress, Gale notes, is in the Ravengard house colors. Form fitting, sleeveless but with thin straps over her shoulders and a slit up the left side to show off her toned legs. 

“Do you like it?” She does a small twist this way and that. “It was the least god-awful thing I could get them to make me. No movement in anything else ya know? What happens if we have to go into battle?”

“And what would we be fighting?” Gale asked. 

“These stuffed up tarts,” she answered. “Minus Wyll and his father.” 

“If I’d known we’d be doing that, I would have brought my quarterstaff,” Gale joked. She smiled and leaned against the wall next to him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“How ya been Gale? Feels like ages since we’ve seen each other,” she nudged his shoulder. 

“Just about a year I think,” he nodded and sipped his wine. “How have you been?” 

“Oh you know, fighting imps, killing demons…found a forge master fixed my engine right up,” she grinned and tapped her chest. “Part of the reason we're here. Wyll’s been a real friend, keeping up with me in Avernus and first thing I told him once my engine got fixed and could survive out here, we'll take a break so he can spend time with his dad.”

They both looked over and saw Wyll talking with his father. Both Ravengard’s enjoying each other's company. 

“I ain't complaining about the break either. Even got my own little private villa,” Karlach grinned. “And his dad really knows his cigars.” 

Gale smiled. “I'm glad. You deserve it Karlach. You both do.”

“So where's Fangs?” She asked. “Figured he'd be all up for a chance to rub elbows with all these stiffs.”

“He had some business to take care of. We agreed to meet here,” Gale answered. He drank more wine and scanned the room for one of the servers with another tray of glasses. 

“And things are good with you two?” She asked. 

He doesn’t miss the inquiring tone of her voice, borderline skeptical. 

“Of course, why wouldn't they be?” He asked. 

“Just, two of you, kinda sudden ya know? We all go our separate ways then Withers gets us all together and you and Astarion are living together, engaged. I mean fucking hell, am I gonna come back after another year to find out you two adopted or something?” 

Gale snorts into his wine and coughs. He quickly sets the glass on the table to keep from spilling the remainder all over himself and a few people are looking their way. Karlach usher’s him outside to one of the emptier balconies patting his back. 

She’s joking. He knows she’s joking but god’s does that still make him squirm. Marriage, even one of willing convenience is one thing. But a child? He wouldn’t even subject Tara to this kind of life let alone a child. 

She winced and checked over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t being watched by prying eyes. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she apologized. “Bad joke?” 

He coughed and took the napkin she offered to wipe his mouth, and let out a potentially strangled laugh. “Just a bit Karlach.” He patted her shoulder. “And...it just sort of happened.” He wanted his wine. 

“Alright well, how?” She asked. 

“What do you mean?” He frowned. 

“You say it just sort of happened, but you've never actually answered the question. Even then, ‘oh ya know, just one of those whirlwind things’,” she tried to imitate his voice. “‘You know Astarion, he’s never one to do things half-assed.’ ‘Just swept me off my feet…’”

“My voice is not that high,” he crossed his arms over his chest and caught the engagement ring in question on his finger. 

Gold band with ruby center. Diamond’s set on either side. It’d been enchanted, so the only way it was coming off was if Astarion wanted it off or Gale cut off his own finger. He just didn’t have the nerve. 

“It kinda is,” she replied. 

He ran a hand through his hair. “There isn’t much to tell Karlach. It really sort of just…happened. I was surprised as you were but, when he looked at, when he asked me, when he…when he told me, I suppose I got caught up in it all. Isn’t that what they say love is supposed to feel like? Like your hearts caught in a vice?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Karlach put her hand on his shoulder. 

“There you are!” 

They parted as if burned. Astarion stood in the open doorway with his hands on his hips. Red eyes flitting between Karlach and Gale. Her hand still hovered in the air from where it’d been on Gale’s shoulder.

Continue

[blackjackkent]

OK, time for another boss battle report, Cazador Szarr edition. This one got pretty elaborate. XD

Opening state of play:

Enemy list is Cazador plus two ghasts (labeled "Fallen Gur Hunter," upsettingly), four werewolves, a skeleton named "Chatterteeth," and six bats. The bats have one hit point each but I'm making no assumptions at this point.

Cazador starts out with seven stacks of a buff called "Ritual Sources" - corresponding to the seven spawn currently being held in magical fields around the arena - which gives him 70 temp HP, 7m extra movement speed, and extra necrotic damage. He also gets an individual unique buff for three of the spawn (For "Yousen", he gets an extra 2-16 hitpoint regain every turn, for "Violet" he gets a +5 to AC, and for Astarion himself, he gets an extra bonus action.)

All of this also means we are shorthanded by one person because Astarion is currently being used as a power socket. (On the bright side, despite the cutscene, he still has all his armor and stuff on, so maybe we can get him back into the fight and let him get the killing blow.)

Cazador can apparently use Call Lightning for ten turns without using a spell slot, with which he immediately beats the shit out of Jaheira on his first turn.

He can turn into vampire mist and run around the arena which makes him immune to non-magical damage. "This status is removed by sunlight," says the description of the form. Well, this at least is good news, because guess what Jaheira has:

The spawns themselves all have a "sacrificial lamb" condition which states: "If Cazador draws power from all the spawns bound this way three times, he will ascend." So we're on something of a time limit.

By the way Cazador has 270 hit points, including the 70 temp HP he's getting from the spawns. O.O;

We do get a bit of a hint to kick things off.

"Those runes," Karlach says. "Cazzy's using them to suck the power right out of those poor fuckers."

"If we can reach the glowing sigils, maybe we can redirect that power from him to us," says Hector.

First of all, I love that Karlach calls him "Cazzy". Second, I can't imagine Hector is much more thrilled about taking that power for himself, even temporarily, than he is about Cazador getting it, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I think our top priority here is as follows:

a) Get everyone onto one of those sigils (ideally Astarion's? maybe we can get him back into the fight?) to start disrupting Cazador's power sources. b) Get Daylight cast on as much of the arena as possible. c) ????? we'll figure it out from there.

Let's go.

-----

Combat report:

Getting Karlach onto one of the sigils on her first turn passed one of the "Ritual Sources" buffs from Cazador onto her, so that seems like a good start. The problem here, though, is that stepping back OFF the sigil immediately gives the buff back to Cazador. So the utility here seems a bit limited since most of our squad is kinda up close and personal.

Not entirely clear on whether I am supposed to be trying to kill the non-Astarion spawn, although that does seem like it would certainly remove the buff more permanently. They're basically resistant to everything so it doesn't seem like a GREAT use of our time, but options feel really limited.

The ghasts are surprisingly annoying as they all run straight at Hector and cast Stench to make him nauseous, meaning he can't take actions. He's so powerful tho that he kills one of the werewolves with bonus actions alone.

Karlach meanwhile gets surrounded by all five bats and bit a whole bunch and Jaheira gets downed by the second round of Call Lightning. This is off to a great start.

The one spore zombie that was still following Jaheira around from the fight earlier misses every single one of its attacks in this fight, bless its heart.

Hector manages to take out all the ghasts by turn three but is now the only good guy conscious on the field as Karlach has gotten bitten into unconsciousness. More bats have spawned at the start of the round. Cazador has managed to avoid starting his turn in the Daylight spell repeatedly so he has not yet taken any damage from it yet. All the bats have now come over to surround Hector instead. This is going terribly.

DISCOVERY: When Jaheira's spore zombie kills something (in this case, a bat) it turns into a new friendly spore zombie! That's nice! Everything else, however, is terrible.

At this point, Cazador ascends. All of the spawns, including Astarion, explode into a giant pile of wet meat. Astarion's personal quest is marked complete. I sigh, very heavily, and reload. Yeesh.

Attempt 2!

I feel like there's a trick here that I'm missing, but the second pass does start off much more optimistically; Hector and Karlach are able to take out all three ghouls immediately and Jaheira gets Daylight up again.

Once again Jaheira gets wrecked at the top of the second round when Cazador gets his next turn. She really is squishy as fuck and I am not sure why I suck so badly at playing her. :( I love you, Jaheira, I'm sorry I keep getting you killed.

Eventually I got frustrated and sent Hector over to just whale on Cazador, and he's such a battering ram that he did manage to get him all the way down to 100HP. However, it was on turn 3 and so Cazador promptly got up afterwards and turned everyone into marinara sauce.

Realistically, Hector and Karlach are powerful enough between them that I'm pretty sure we can cheese this fight but just going straight to Cazador on turn 1 and beating the shit out of him; however, I would kind of like to figure out how to do this fight the "correct" way. Reload.

Attempt 3!

New strategy - what if we ignore all the enemies and just run all three of us onto three of the sigils immediately? (Specifically, the three sigils for the spawn that are giving him extra buffs. Unfortunately, they're of course the ones furthest away from us but we have dash actions for a reason.)

With this in mind, backing up an extra save and doing some pre-work. Jaheira gets the Misty Step amulet back, ritually casts Longstrider on everyone which will give them extra movement speed until long rest, and precasts Conjure Elemental, Conjure Woodland Being to get more bodies on the field, and Heroes Feast too, why not (immunity to the Stench poison for one thing), then casts Protection from Energy on herself to help offset the fucking Call Lightning that's wrecking us right out of the gate.

While I'm doing this, @ryssabrin comes in clutch with some advice in the replies in my previous post, pointing out that we can use the Help action on Astarion to pull him out of the ritual and back into the fight. "cazador will focus fire on him but he won't do the ritual." This is HUGE because that three-turn limit was what was really fucking things up.

So that's our new priority. Jaheira and Karlach go to stand on two of the sigils, and Hector books it towards Astarion to free him. Ryssabrin also pointed out the utility of Sanctuary in this case - presumably to put on Astarion if Cazzy is gonna focus fire him - so I have Hector load that up too, and cast Protection from Evil and Good on himself.

Heroes Feast is fun. It also gives us a big hamper of camp supplies in addition to all the buffs. Please fill in your own joke:

Mad prep, let's go:

OK let's give this another try. I'm not scared, what are you talking about.

In addition to all the buffs, we also luck out here somewhat in that on this run, all three of the team get top initiative (second only to Cazador himself). Jaheira's concentration on Protection from Energy gets broken INSTANTLY but she does take less damage than she did previously.

Jaheira misty steps onto Yousen's sigil, stealing Cazador's per-turn heal and one of his ritual stacks (and casts Daylight). Karlach goes to Violet's sigil and steals Cazador's extra AC and another ritual stack (and rages for extra DR). Hector as planned beelines straight for Astarion, Help-actions him into the fight, casts Sanctuary on him, and barrels towards one of the other sigils. Cazador is now down to four buff stacks and no special buffs, and cannot ascend. QUICKSAVE.

"YOU ARE GOING TO SUFFER FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID TO ME!" Astarion bellows, and then I have him stand absolutely still and not do anything, because he can't be targeted by attacks in Sanctuary but only while he doesn't attack anything. I like to think he is debuffing Cazador with the pure power of his ANGRY GLARE, though.

Jaheira once again gets fucking trounced immediately but at least her unconscious body is on top of the sigil so it's still debuffing Cazador.

Round 2 - Cazador's out of mist form and I could keep Hector on the sigil removing the extra stack from him - but realistically the dangerous ones were the two that Jaheira and Karlach are on. Hector is best served barreling straight at Cazador and battering ram smacking the shit out of him. So that is what he does. For a total of [does quick math] 183 DAMAGE! :D Cazador lost Call Lightning concentration too. Big moves from Team Juggernaut and this is all looking much more manageable. (For insult to injury he still had enough movement left to go and stand on the nearby sigil again too. XD )

Karlach hurled two separate health potions at Jaheira, using up both of her actions, and neither of them did anything useful for some reason. Very annoying. So now I just sit here while the 513451345 enemies on the field take their turns and hope for the best.

Time for some roleplay choices. Cazador is down to 65 HP and still prone, which means Astarion can get a sneak atack on him. So I make the executive decision to SCREW SANCTUARY because Astarion needs this killing blow.

Jaheira dies. Again. And, again, from a story perspective, we are pretending this didn't happen. XD

Round 3 - Cazador once again mists up, so I spend Hector and Karlach's turns taking out some of the adds. Astarion tries to take a stab at the mist form just to see if it works. It doesn't.

Round 4 - Hector flattens Cazador down to 13HP and positions himself to give Astarion sneak attack. Karlach stares menacingly at everyone...

And Astarion gets the killing blow.

And then we killed the 113451324 bats that had spawned during this whole process. Victory!

[crystal-overdrive]

TavTash Tag Game

Tagged in my own game! Thanks @bearhugsandshrugs 🥰

Tell us a bit about your Tav!  This is Tavarina Ammakyl, 30, a Waterdelvian noble, now Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate. Before the Nautaloid she was a researcher and lecturer with the Watchful Order, and had powers granted to her by a mysterious patron that was unlike any other warlock patron she'd heard of. Academia and her patron were Tav's way out of the pressure she was under to marry well as her parent's 'spare' second-daughter.

What alignment is your Tav? How does that align or clash with Gortash? Do they agree with him morally? Lawful Neutral. Within three months of meeting Gortash she becomes Lawful Evil. She values efficiently, order and rules, and believes those who can lead should step up to do so. She's done some dark things in the name of those values, and Gortash corrupts her into viewing those acts in a positive light. Her clashes with Gortash are less about morals and more about optics; he's just entered a phase of his plan where he can be openly violent (murdered patriars etc) and she thinks he needs to pull back and continue to build his image.

What God does your Tav follow? Is Gortash's position as Bane's chosen an issue?  With where we're at in the fic right now, Tav has just learned that the 'warlock patron' she's worked with for the past decade is, in fact, Bane. Prior to that she'd had blessings from Loviatar but held no real religious convictions. She's been on a similar corruption journey with Bane, at first calling him evil and dismissing Enver's offer to raise a black keep, then realising she has respect for the church's tenets and models them in her own behaviour, before attempting a Banite ritual herself. Gortash's position as his chosen and therefore his position above Tav in the Banite hierarchy is magically enforced, which gives Tav little choice at times.

What did your Tav think of Gortash when they first met? Did they take his offer of an alliance?  She took the alliance immediately, but negotiated him down to killing the brain and using her hero status to further his grasp on the city: being the one to 'save the city' was always his plan, after all. She threw fixing Karlach's engine into the deal too, to get the party off her back. As someone who had been a reluctant leader, only doing it because no one else was willing or capable, Tav saw this as the most logical and efficient way to end things. On a personal level, she was attracted to him and admired his wit and intelligence but didn't trust him at all. Her 'patron' however, seemed to draw her towards him.

How did Gortash and your Tav get together? What do they see in each other?  My friend said they were practically married from the moment they met and yeah, that vibe is there, but it took them quite a long time to actually get together. Tav didn't trust that he wasn't attempting to seduce her into supporting policies she didn't agree with, and when she realised she held more than just attraction to him, she was concerned about how it would look to the patriars. Tav eventually threw caution to the wind after learning the truth about Bane and almost being kidnapped by Wyll. I think they are quite similar people in their drives towards efficiency, their thirst for knowledge and their complicated relationships with the trappings of luxury. Tav explicitly says multiple times that she's attracted to his intelligence and wit, and honestly he just loves it when she's doing evil shit.

What does the future hold for your Tav and Gortash? Are they in a relationship, a one time thing, are they going to rule the sword coast together or kill each other in a tragic showdown? That would be spoilers...and require me to know the answer to that question! I'm relatively certain that their alliance will hold, but what form that ultimately takes is still up for debate. And whether they'll rule the sword coast? That depends on Wyll and the Harpers...

I've run out of people to tag in this but please feel free to join in - we want to meet all the Tavtashers! 🖤

[msviolacea]

There's a lot of "oh, Baldur's Gate, isn't that game all about sex?" out there - I've seen it on the internet and heard it in conversation - which is fair, that's what the mainstream articles have been about, and let's not lie, most of us around here are all about the sexytimes with pretty people. (Me included, 100000%. And my "romance doesn't make an experience less interesting or serious" rant will be saved for another day.) But anyway ... it's Monday, and I'm avoiding work, so I figured I'd list as many things as I can think of right now that make the game amazing that have nothing to do with actually having sex with someone.

GINORMOUS areas to explore.

There are lore books literally everywhere. If you like reading random bits of in-universe texts, you'll be spoiled.

Have you ever played D&D and wished certain spells had more utility - like Grease, or Sleep, or Create/Destroy Water? You're in luck here! Anything that can either create a ground effect or temporarily distract/take enemies out is OP!

Animated, voiced cut scenes with nearly every single NPC you run across.

At the same time, most of them are not required. Some will give you interesting side quests, extra approval/disapproval from your companions, or interesting information that will give you more options in a future quest, but you don't have to spend hours talking to people unless that's your jam.

In character creation, you don't pick male/female as a gender. You pick from four body types (two small, two large, two with breasts/more slender, two more broad/slightly larger), three sets of pronouns (he/she/they), and several different sets of genitals - mix and match all three categories to your hearts' content. I'm sure there are other things they could have done, but it's the most inclusive character creator I've seen in a major game for sure.

The turn-based combat is a blessing for anyone who struggles with real time combat. Take your time, consider your options, look at things from all angles, sort through your spells and attacks to find the right one.

Or you can remember you picked up that barrel of smoke powder three rooms back, climb up into the rafters of the room, and chuck it into the fire pit in the middle of the room for maximum effect. I cannot overstate how fucking satisfying that is.

Big fucking tiefling horns. Of a variety of shapes!

Your female companions are the tanks/hearty warriors. Your male companions are all delicate fucking flowers, at least until you get Druid Daddy who can turn into a bear.

While optimizing your 4-person party to bring the usual configuration - one tank, one healer, a couple of DPS - is useful, it isn't always necessary. There are some fights where bringing four ranged options is a great idea, as long as you give them some survivability spells or plenty of potions. Sometimes bringing four people who can just barrel their way into a pile of ogres is satisfying. Mix it up!

Okay every companion thus far (I'm still only through act 1 yet, listen I have two games and my partner didn't feel well enough to continue the game where we're the farthest this weekend so I spent my time catching my solo game up) is absolute gold, no duds in the bunch, and the next few bullets will be one awesome thing about each one of them that has nothing to do with romance.

Astarion with the Thief subclass at level 3 literally cannot fail most lockpicking or trap disarming checks unless he rolls a nat 1. He is invisible when stealthed. He can one-shot most low level goblins with sneak attack arrows from range. He is a very bitchy fancy-lad Super Rogue.

Wyll is the Goodest Boy - the speed with which he goes from "I am oathbound to kill you demon!" to "well shit you're just a tiefling guess I'll deliberately fuck up my very dangerous warlock oath for you" is wonderful. He's noble and impetuous and wants to be more than a rich boy and gives nearly everyone the benefit of the doubt. I would die for him.

Karlach does the ADHD idle dance of "I could not stand still if you paid me all the gold in Baldur's Gate" and has the best puppy dog eyes. Also the story tie-in to her rage mechanics is really great and excellent storytelling.

Lae'zel is nigh unkillable if you give her the right stuff. Speccing her as Battlemaster is amazing for controlling the most powerful combatants on the field. Trip Attack has saved my ass so many times, you have no idea.

On paper, Gale should be absolutely insufferable. But somehow the writing and voice acting managed to hit just the right notes of humor and good nature and wizard geek. I'm very impressed.

Shadowheart is a very interesting combination of amoral/self-involved but also compassionate and I find myself fascinated by it. She clearly contains multitudes, and thus far the story is doing a good job of doling out pieces of her at a satisfying pace.

And speaking of interesting moral dichotomies, I absolutely adore that Halsin is both the good influence authority figure and also utterly ruthless when things run afoul of his strongly held belief system. Also thicc, broad-shouldered elf supremacy.

The tieflings you meet in Emerald Grove are directly tied to the D&D adventure "Descent Into Avernus" - as is Wyll! (And I'm sure it has a lot of context for Karlach's story as well, I haven't finished reading it yet.) I'm sure there's more when you get to the actual city of Baldur's Gate, but I'm not there yet. It's just fun to have that as an option to read for backstory about some of the game's characters and situations if you want. It's not required reading, though - cough, Bioware/Dragon Age, cough - everything that happens with them is perfectly understandable without any additional context!

The "Balanced" combat difficulty is a really good mix of fights that take a LOT of strategy and ones that can be easily cheesed.

Have you ever wanted to shove someone off a cliff even though you have like 8 strength? Listen, a 30% chance is STILL A CHANCE, and you have limited bonus action choices. TAKE YOUR SHOT.

... feel free to add your own. I'm still pretty early in the game and can't wait to get to more.

(edited for some slightly better phrasing about the character creation gender options, hopefully)