#OOC astarion

[astarion-approves]

astarion reacts to tav being betrayed by a loved one and tav getting injured during the betrayal?

Astarion x Gender Neutral Tav! - Fucking Randy Astarion first person POV - it's alright lol I can't even think of a summary for this...

Tags: More humor than angst, first person pov (Astarion), 500+ words, drabble, poor description of a fight, OOC Astarion

Summary: Honestly, I don't know what Tav saw in that human. A complete jackass, and one that would eventually get them killed.

Read here or on AO3

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

The battle started just as any other. Tav ahead of us, usually sticking their nose where it didn’t belong, insulting strangers without a second thought, or even just punching someone at random for the hell of it. It was one of the things that made me approve of them so quickly. Their… ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude. I admired it. Loved it, really. 

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one. 

His name was Randy. Yes, Randy, if you can believe it. A human male who was tall and lanky, but not in an unattractive way— again, unfortunately for me. Somehow he had managed to woo Tav before we’d even met. The barbarian was a complete savage, encouraging Tav to make admittedly stupid decisions, drinking past his limit, and taking advantage of Tav’s kindness without them even realizing it. 

It came as no surprise when Tav spit straight into the face of someone trying to intimidate our group. Hell, I laughed in response. Watching someone wipe spit from their face in shock is never not funny. Disgusting, obviously, but hilarious nevertheless.

Shadowheart clicked her tongue and readied her weapon, Gale doing much the same but with a heavy sigh, Randy (fucking Randy, really? Seriously? Randy? RANDY?!) revealed his sword and steadied it in his hands, and my lovely self exposed my dangers— each of us ready to destroy those who stood before us. 

Tav grinned at their lover, laughing as Randy lunged forward and buried his sword into the spit covered face of the one that stood before them. A dagger would have been a better choice, but who am I to judge? Right? I was only a fucking magistrate. 

Fucker. 

Soon other’s flooded into the area, the quick murder drawing their attention to our group. Tav and Randy worked their way through the group, the rest of us picking off the rangers that tried to hide. 

A quick fight, as it usually was with our group… 

But then… something happened. 

A shot of fire, heading directly towards Tav and Randy— Shadowheart wasn’t fast enough to shield them and the pair were vulnerable against it. I heard Tav scream as Randy grabbed their shoulders and pushed them in front of himself. I could only watch as the fire flew towards them and exploded against Tav’s chest. They fell to the ground, landing on their side, no longer breathing. 

Gale cast a spell in the direction of the killer, but I wasn’t paying attention, I was running to Tav. 

They laid on the ground, their eyes open and staring into nothing, mouth hanging open as if they were still screaming from the blow. I dropped to my knees beside them, cradling their head in my lap, my hands tapping on their cheeks, words flying from my mouth but I didn’t even know what I was saying. 

“Leave them,” Randy said. “We need to keep moving.” 

I flung my dagger into his skull. 

Shadowheart began casting spells, anything they could do to bring Tav back—

But they still laid there. 

Luckily, all we had to do was carry them back to camp and Withers was able to bring them back from the dead. 

Randy we left behind. Because fuck Randy. 

And now, tonight, I’ll be making my first move on Tav. They’re still a little hurt from the betrayal, weeks later. And… they also tell us stories of their nightmares and the cool chill of death that lingers and haunts them— 

But they blush when they look at me, and that’s good enough for me. 

[ssalballoon]

the sparring session did NOT go to astarion's expectations

another quarterstaff gale! kind of a companion to this

[feyascorner]

Astarion is such a girl dad nobody can tell me otherwise.

Would he be a responsible parent? Maybe. It depends on which act we’re looking at. He’d give her a doll and then a pretty knife for her birthday. But gods if he doesn’t absolutely wreak havoc with a little version of himself…

You would walk in on him having a tea party with his daughter, makeup messily smeared on his face and parts of his hair tied with pink rubber bands. He looks ridiculous crouched on a tiny chair, but he takes this tea party very seriously. Your daughter does too, it seems, as they chat about some imaginary society of stuffed animals and gossip about which stuffy was rude to another.

He’d also let her play dentist on his fangs, lying on the sofa while feigning a toothache so his daughter can “treat” him with random tools around the house. If you weren’t terrified she might accidentally cut herself on how sharp his teeth are, you’d think it’s adorable.

And when I say this man dresses her, I am not over exaggerating. He teaches her early on how to do basic sewing and adjustments to her clothes, but he’s also loves to buy her little frilly bows and such that he knows she’ll like. Dresses, scarves, gloves, you name it. He loves putting on a show, so why should his own daughter walk around in dreadfully boring clothing?

On one of the occasions you join in on their tea parties, he steps out of the room for a few minutes to grab something. When he returns, your daughter is fast sleep in your lap, and you smile down softly at her. The sight makes his chest swell.

“I think she has your nose, darling,” he says as he sits down beside you.

“Has your sass, though. I caught her staring at herself in the mirror the other day too.”

He snorts and you finally lift your head to look at him. His eyes flit back and forth between you and your daughter, his features gentle. “Do you blame her? Who wouldn’t want to take after all this?”

You stifle a laugh, careful to keep from waking her. Brushing the hair out of your face, he plants his lips to your forehead while soft snores come from down at your lap.

“I fear I’ll mess up with her,” he whispers against your cheek.

You shake your head, leaning it against his shoulder. “You won’t.”

Somehow, he feels himself trusting your words. He’s always found it easy to do so when it came to you.

[stormsofasorceress]

baldurs gate out of context (x)

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

~

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

[leighsartworks216]

In The Moonlight

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Lowkey wrote this for @niermortem bc the Astarion hyperfixation goes hard

I've never written for Astarion before and I'm still not 100% comfortable with his speech patterns and stuff but I had to write this or I would not be able to sleep tonight. Tbh y'all are lucky he even spoke at all. I was going to have Tav shush him lmao

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

Word Count: 1,110

Masterlist

AO3

He’s so beautiful, just like this. The moon reaches through the window and caresses his hair, turning already-bright white into pure starlight. His pale skin glows. And when the sun rises and casts beams of yellow-orange over him, it’s almost as if blood flows through him once more.

You cannot sleep. Despite how tired your body was, your mind couldn’t sit still. It pondered over the day’s events - if you made the right choices, what you could have done better, your companions - endlessly spiraling out of sleep’s embrace. And you would still have been going over these questions and concerns, if Astarion did not look so damn pretty.

He fell asleep a while ago. With a gentle kiss to your cheek and a whisper of thanks, he’d tucked one arm under his head and draped the other across your waist, and drifted off. A hint of a smile still lingered there. Creases by his mouth and eyes proving a simple joy that followed him into his dreams.

It felt wrong to watch him like this. Like studying how his curls fell across his forehead and the flicker of his eyes behind his eyelids was in some way betraying his trust. The thought alone - of ruining this beautiful foundation of trust and patience and understanding - should have been enough to have you close your eyes or turn away. And yet, something inside you yearned for more. An ache in your chest that urged you to touch him, to be closer to him.

And the urge was stronger than your perceived guilt.

Slowly, you raised a hand to his face. At first, all you did was brush the curl from his forehead. The stubborn thing only bounced right back.

Your eyes trailed from his hair to his eyebrows. So often did a crease find its way between them, pinched in frustration or confusion. Your hand followed. With the barest brush of your thumb, you smoothed out the imaginary crease. Astarion breathed in deeply - causing you to hold your own - before sighing softly. His face relaxed even more, shoulders easing into the pillows that cushioned him.

You focused next on his eyes. Deep, bloody red irises hidden behind thin lids that held so much worry and uncertainty and joy and hope. Hope. It had taken so long for the vampire to actually be optimistic about the future. He had no idea what would happen next - between Cazador and the tadpoles, there was little to be optimistic about. When you helped him, despite his original plans to manipulate and use you, he realized things did not always have such awful outcomes. Even your first encounter, with his blade to your throat, had somehow brought you here, together and warm and safe.

Despite being an elf, he had such deep bags beneath his eyes. Even the crows feet and laugh lines that appeared with his smile were unusual. He’d told you sparingly about his life under Cazador. The things he fed on, the poem carved into his back, and the horrible things he did. Undoubtedly, the lines came from that time. Barely eating enough to survive, luring people in with his charms for an uncaring master, being tortured in the dark. Yet, you couldn’t imagine Astarion without them. He was so pretty when he smiled.

You move on to his nose and his cheeks. His features are all well defined, sharp. It makes him seem dangerous, even at a first glance. Like a snake, hiding fangs behind shimmering scales.

Beckoned by the analogy, your eyes flicker to his lips. They’re so soft, despite the way he chews his bottom lip. Where before his kisses were rough, demanding, now they’re slow, careful. He no longer kisses you like he has to woo you over and get you to play his game. He kisses you like he’s savoring the last drop of wine. Even his bites are gentler, pricking your neck as carefully as he can unless you ask him nicely to be rougher.

“Too distracted to sleep, are we?”

His voice makes you jolt. You weren’t expecting his lips to move so suddenly. Nor did you realize before how your hand cupped his jaw and your thumb stroked his cheek. You can feel his smile as he chuckles.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear,” he coos. “But don’t you think it’s a bit late to be admiring my features?”

You take a moment to compose yourself, urging your heart to still from the scare. Damn you for thinking so much about his mouth. Astarion is nice enough to wait and listen as you relax once more, though you continue to trace over his skin and brush the curls in front of his ears back.

“I couldn’t sleep. And you look so beautiful in the moonlight.”

He slips his arm from underneath his head as he turns into your hand, holding your wrist in place as he kisses your palm. “I appreciate it, my love. But it’s been a long and exhausting day, and we both need our beauty rest.”

Red eyes watch, half-lidded, as you smile - he loves it just as much as you love his. Before, he couldn’t care less. Now, oh the things he would do to see you happy every waking moment of the rest of your lives.

The blankets shift against each other as you move to be closer. You tuck yourself into his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your face into his neck. You are so warm. He lets out a soft breath as he curls around you, protective and safe all at once. Slender fingers tangle carefully into the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping your head tucked away under his chin.

For so long, he charmed and manipulated people. They touched and got close to him, in ways he quickly detached himself from. For so long. It was still difficult to fathom how he sought it out with you. How he did not go through the motions of physical intimacy, how he actually wanted to be physically intimate in more ways than just sexually. How long he’d been deprived of something genuine like this. He wanted to savor every gods-forsaken minute of it.

Your warm breath fanned across his neck as you spoke. Had he been able to, it would have sent a chill down his spine.

“I love you.”

His fingers curl into your waist, grounding himself into your body as your skin gives under his fingertips. In return, you squeeze him in your hold, solidifying even more that this is real. You are real.

“I love you, too, darling.”

[aancunin]

Y’all dont understand bloodweave runs deeper when you choose Ascended and Godhood path bc Gale fuels Astarions ambition and bc Gales a god and cant be around, Astarion's obsession becomes with Gale and he basically would become his chosen or some shit

Makes a litle Gale shrine, Gales' first “worshipper”

Anyways my excuse is I wanna see a tiny white bat pushed between Gales silver colored star boobs and hes cooing loving sweet words at his absolutely obsessed Vampire husband who literally uses his divine interventions for booty calls which Gale has to keep reminding him thats NOT what they’re for, but thinks its cute anyways

[comatosebunny09]

You always ask Astarion if you can kiss him. And for a while, he isn’t very comfortable with it, save for a few chaste pecks here and there and maybe the occasional kiss on the cheek. Imagine the wreck he’d be wanting to initiate a kiss with you first but not knowing how to ask after all this time staving off your advances.

[walkinggatorbait]

I bought a lot of art from @feyspeaker and got it framed and decorated my house (like a normal person lol)

[nanaoise08squad]

As much as the new ascended kiss has me going absolutely feral, I'm a spawn girlie at heart❤️🥺🦇🖤 imagine spawn Astarion accidentally catching your lip with his fang. You wince from the sudden pain, though you don't pull away from the kiss immediately. It's Astarion that breaks from the kiss instead, a slightly worried look on his face as he can see the blood dripping from your lip.

"oh shit, sorry my love" he says softly, tracing his thumb over your cut lip tenderly.

"it's ok, I've definitely had worse" you smile, chucking lightly as you studied his concerned expression. A far cry from the man you'd met on the beach all those months ago. His self centered attitude slowly melted away as he opened his heart to you, protectiveness and love taking it's place in a way neither one of you excepted.

"well, at least let me kiss it better darling" he hums, tongue flicking over your skin to catch the bood before pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, loving kiss.

I'm just weak for spawn Astarion being soft and fluffy with Tav, I just needed to do SOMETHING while I'm stuck at work till 6 😭

[vyibunni]

this moment really reminded me of my tav <3 dialogue is from the video "turning random lines of action into characters" by Drawfee Show on youtube, modified a bit to be more british lol

+ bonus

[theautumnpicker]

Astarion does not have a 10 Charisma score because he's not charming or he's not a good liar. He is both of those things! That's why he has proficiency in Persuasion and expertise in Deception! That is why thousands of people both in game and out of game are insane about him.

He has a 10 Charisma because he has basically no force of personality.

He could be the most charming person in the world and he'd still have 10 charisma because the second anyone with a stronger personality tells him to do what they say— doesn't even have to be a direct order, just a suggestion ("It's up to you, but...") — he's going to do it. Whether it's telling him to say please and thank you or to do something that he really and truly hates.

[dragonskxn]

A realization

[feyascorner]

at the end of the day

summary. you and astarion have your first genuine fight and the other companions try to patch things between the two of you.

warnings. comfort/fluff

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. have not written an actual one-shot in a while omg,...

Breakfast is eaten in silence. One that's been extending far past its welcome date now.

Shadowheart grips her fork, feeling the flitting glances exchanged amongst the others around the table while she maintains focus on the two individuals sitting on opposite sides of the table. Your eyes remain trained on the bread sitting on your plate and Astarion swirls his chalice aimlessly in his hand, neither of you even acknowledging the presence of the other. The cleric grimaces as you stand suddenly, your chair scraping against the floor as you do so.

"Thanks for the food, Gale," is all you mutter before leaving the room with your plate in hand. Astarion rises from his own chair in an instant, huffing.

"I must take my leave as well."

When both parties have left the room, all five other companions stare at one another in a knowing silence. Lae'zel is the only one who doesn't seem the slightest bothered. Wyll is the one to break the uncomfortable tension in the air, clearing his throat after Lae'zel nearly bites her fork off. "I see they're still amidst their lovers' quarrel."

"What are they even fighting about?" Karlach groans, slumping into her chair with an exasperated groan.

"It was nice the first few days to have a good night's sleep without their incessant noises," Shadowheart grumbles, shoving an egg into her mouth. "But now, this is arguable worse."

"Should we...aid them somehow?" Gale blinks.

Lae'zel snorts. "They're adults, we don't need to coddle them, wizard."

Despite her words, they do find themselves a few hours later in unanimous agreement to do something to ease the unfamiliar dryness of the camp dynamic. It comes in multiple attempts. And to say few---if not all--were unsuccessful, is an understatement.

First, when out in the woods, Gale makes an effort to spark a conversation that would prompt both you and Astarion to join in. You nod occasionally, though lost in thought, while Astarion promptly ignores whatever he's talking about. It's a pathetic attempt that has nobody but himself babbling away, which earns a grunt from Shadowheart. It's enough to shut him up, thankfully.

Second, Karlach uses her uncanny ability to lift someone's spirits. Jokes, dancing, all that jazz. Even booze. She urges you to let loose, but all you do in response is smile at her apologetically while Astarion just glares off into space. Another failed attempt. Lae'zel pats Karlach on the shoulder.

Wyll tells stories of his monster hunting days which you usually take an interest in. Astarion naturally listens to what a monster hunter does when he's not hunting monsters, but that's all it is. You and Astarion only listen. There are quips and lingering questions, but neither of you ever direct it at one another, or bother to add into the conversation either. The sheer amount of teasing questions has Wyll's head spinning by the end of it. Lae'zel rolls her eyes.

Just when things couldn't possibly get any worse, you're ambushed. It's a small horde of goblins---nothing beyond your capabilities, but your companions do take some small scratches here and there. Somehow, though he rarely does, as he prefers staying behind you or Karlach, Astarion does too. And despite his efforts to hide it behind his back, you also didn't miss the cut lining Astarion's arm to his elbow. It's not deep by any means, and if it were your own injury, you'd likely just brush it off.

But it's on his skin, and he'd gotten it when taking a hit from an arrow that should've cut your arm.

Blasted hells, you think, as he shrugs it off. Even when you can clearly see him clenching his jaw to bite away the pain.

If battle won't be the end of you, you're sure your idiot of a boyfriend might be instead.

"Come here, you fool," you mutter, holding out your hand. He doesn't even consider the fact that you're mad at one another and immediately extends his arm to you. Habits, you suppose.

You mumble out a weak scolding as he watches you wrap the wound through his lashes. He shivers as you lather a cool ointment on the cut, hoping it's enough to soothe the pain before Shadowheart's recovered enough to properly heal him. He lifts a pale hand to your face, and for a moment, you think he might pinch you. Instead, he runs a thumb across your cheek, spreading the ointment on a scratch you hadn't even realized was there in the first place.

You meet his eyes, your own softening as he cups his fingertips around your cheek. The way he looks at you is overwhelming sometimes---like you're the only thing he gives a damn about in this world---but it's a welcome feeling when he hasn't even looked you in the eye this way in days now. For a moment, you realize you don't even remember why the two of you were mad at one another in the first place.

A laugh threatens to escape your throat. How childish, truly.

And then he flicks your forehead, unable to help the grin etching onto his lips when you blink in surprise.

"That was for making me sleep by myself for three nights."

You swat at his arm while he dodges each of your lazy attempts to get back at him. And though the two of you continue bickering, unbeknownst to you, you have an audience a good bit away, watching you return to your old ways after making them worry for so long.

"What a sight it is--to see young people in love again," Wyll smiles.

Shadowheart deadpans. "Isn't Astarion nearing 240?"

"Who cares?" Karlach shrugs, slinging her arms on either side of her companions with a toothy beam. "What matters is that they made up...and we didn't even have to help them."

[stormsofasorceress]

baldurs gate out of context (x)

[fatale-distraction]

Kar’niss x Tav... Tav helps Kar'niss clean himself up after taking him in?

Not sure if this turned out how you were expecting, dearest Anon, but here’s a thing!

~~~

"Hold still, now," Qilue murmured, dabbing carefully at the drider's temple with a damp cloth. Kar'niss had settled himself near the fire pit, legs folded beneath him obediently while his newest mistress scrubbed at his face with a gentility he had become so unaccustomed to, his shattered mind couldn't recall the last time someone had treated him with such tender care. He had thought The Absolute had been good to him, rewarded his devotion with such generosity. It was nothing compared to this new mistress, her touch feather light and full of love. Even as the drider peered with mixed suspicion and curiousity around the camp, a purr began to rumble in his chest, accompanied by the occasional anxious chitter over his new surroundings. Water sloshed in the bucket at Qilue's side as she rinsed the rag and squeezed it out. Kar'niss winced away when she swept it around his primary eyes and moved on to the secondary ones dotting the left side of his face. Her touch remained gentle while she murmured comforting words in a low voice and continued scrubbing the filth from his mottled skin. She moved to the jagged scarring that split his face, blood boiling as she tried not to remember the circumstances behind it, the vicious snake-headed whip that had flayed skin and muscle to the bone.

"How long do you think it's going to take you with that little scrap?"

"Shut up, Astarion."

"Excuse me, I am asking a genuine question," the vampire scoffed. "Wouldn't it be easier to just have Gale soak him?"

Gale glanced up from his book. "I'm sorry," he quipped. "You may be curious about what an angry, soaking wet, mentally unstable drider tearing through our camp would look like, but I am not."

Kar'niss hissed and both men snapped their mouths shut. Qilue barely restrained a smirk as she washed behind his ears. "Behave yourself, my love," she instructed fondly.

The drider shrank. "Forgive us, mistress," he babbled. "We are loyal, and she is kind, we will behave."

The drow woman pet his lank white hair and whispered to him in a soothing tone. "Ssh, Kar'niss. I'm not your mistress," she reminded him. "Don't be afraid, you won't be punished. Just be nice."

His trembling eased as he stared with trepidation at the curious woman. "No punishment?"

"No punishment," she assured him, wiping down his neck. Dirt and grime flaked away from the chitin, and it began to take on a dull shine as she scrubbed. Kar'niss let his eyes drift shut. It felt so good; the abrasive cloth and her gentle touch cleaning away months of misery and leaving behind raw skin and gleaming carapace. The purr returned and tentatively he bowed his forehead to hers.

"Thank you, mistress," he said in an awed whisper. "We do not deserve your kindness, your mercy."

"I'm not your mistress," Qilue reminded him again, smiling as she attempted to continue her scrubbing with his forehead pressed to hers. "And kindness is always deserved. It is not something that needs to be earned."

"Yes, my queen."

"No."

"Savior?”

"Try again."

His eyes flickered open and considered her with confusion. "But then, what shall we call you, my lady?"

"My name," she insisted. "Qilue."

A shudder ran through his body. Moonlight. Yes. It had frightened him at first, that bright orb floating in the sky, surrounded by knife-points of glittering stars, but he had quickly grown to love it. The moon was good to him, it was kind. It lit the way in the dark and scattered the shadows. "My light," he gasped in a hoarse, pained whine.

The rag dropped from Qilue's fingers to land on the ground with a wet slap. Hope shone in her eyes and she clutched his clawed hands to her chest.

"Yes!" she cried, tears stinging her eyes. "Yes, Kar'niss, that's what you used to call me! Do you remember?"

"No!" he wailed, clutching his head with sharp claws and staggering back, his body quaking. "No, there was no one. NO ONE. There was only the Absolute, only the Spider Bitch before her. No one else. No light, no light..."

The companions' hands went to their weapons, but they held their positions at a panicked signal from their leader.

"Ssh, darling, it's alright," she murmured, approaching the shaking drider with a soft step. "Come back to me. You're safe."

"We are NEVER safe," he snarled, lips peeling back to reveal his glinting fangs. "The things in the darkness are always there, watching, waiting, HUNGERING."

A pale, bluish light flickered to life in Qilue's palm. The bard murmured a simple, soothing song for his ears alone. The tune was one she had written for him, long ago, to fit the words of his favorite poem. The effect was startingly instantaneous. His breathing slowed, all of his eyes swivelling toward her with an intent, watery gaze. He lowered his hands from his face, pin-pricks of blood left behind from his claws. The companions relaxed slightly as he quieted, lowering his body back toward the ground, entranced by the song and the light.

"Moonlight," he murmured again, broken voice choked with tears. "That was her name, Moonlight...she was my light--MY light, and she was good and she was kind...and they took her away and they broke her and they HURT her--"

Qilue shushed him again, gently gathering him into her arms. "She's okay, Kar'niss. She's alright now. Try to remember her face," she urged, taking his face in her hands and focusing his frantically wandering attention on her face. "Remember my face, my love."

It took several minutes of coaxing to calm the drider enough to resume his bath, her attempts to trigger his memories of her fruitless. Qilue's companions awkwardly relaxed their grips on their weapons and resumed their rest, each trying to pretend they hadn't heard Kar'niss' words. Astarion stormed away from the camp after a few moments, snatching up the moon lantern and muttering in a dark rage that he needed to feed. If anyone heard an agonized scream in the dark, cut off with a sudden, wet squelch, they pretended not to hear that as well. Qilue continued her work, intentionally oblivious, humming her little song every time Kar'niss began to tremble and fret again.

~

Before long, Minthara emerged from the tent she had kicked Halsin out of, bleary-eyed from a deep trance and crunching on a burnt meat-kabob of uncertain origin. She came to an abrupt halt as she came upon the drider-bath-time, eyes shot wide open, half-eaten kabob partially raised to her mouth. She swallowed and lowered the meat.

"There is a drider in our camp,” she rasped.

"Yes," confirmed Qilue, not looking up from her intent polishing of a chitinous shoulder-plate.

"Why is there a drider in our camp."

"His name is Kar'niss."

"WHY is there a DRIDER in our CAMP," enunciated Minthara raggedly.

"He's Qilue's ex-boyfriend," Astarion snapped, stepping back into camp, dragging a badly mangled body behind him and wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand. He dropped the blood in front of Kar'niss. "For you, darling. If I'm not allowed to snack on our friends in the middle of the night, neither are you."

All seven of Kar'niss' eyes widened hungrily at the sight and smell of the half-drained corpse, breath quickening. Qilue put her hands on her hips. "I JUST finished washing his face, Astarion!" she complained. "He's going to get blood everywhere all over again!"

"Let the drider eat!" several strangled voices chorused. The young drow sighed and dropped her rag in the bucket.

"Very well. Try not to make a mess, my love..."

Licking his lips, Kar'niss pounced on the body, sinking his teeth in and gulping down the cooling blood with a moan of ecstasy, babbling his gracious thanks until Qilue scolded him for eating with his mouth full. Her friends averted their eyes and tried not to feel sick as he tore into his meal, with the exception of Lae'zel and Minthara who looked on with interest, and Astarion, who remained disinterested.

"I am going to need a better explanation than that," Minthara said at last, turning back to her fellow countrywoman. "How in the hells did you end up with a drider for a mate?"

"He's not my ex-boyfriend," sighed Qilue, massaging her temple and flopping down in front of the fire. "Or my mate. He's...I don't know what we were. But he wasn't a drider then."

Minthara's eyebrows lifted, a nearly sympathetic expression that fit strangely on her face. "I...see. My condolences. That is not a fate I would wish on my second-worst enemy, but any who would willingly take on a trial of Lolth--"

"It was not willingly," bit out Qilue, holding back tears. The warden's eyebrows climbed higher. "It was a punishment. The Matron Bitch offered him choice between life or death, and he chose ME."

"You surname," the Nightwarden suddenly demanded. "You hail from Menzoberanzan, do you not? What house are you from?"

"Valtaya," Qilue spat.

"House Valtaya..." Minthara mused. "Yes, I recall. Your mother was an idiot."

"I know."

The pair were silent for a moment as Qilue continued to stare into the flames.

"Would it comfort you to know that your eldest sister now leads your house?"

"Oh?" hummed Qilue lightly, eyes unfocused. Kar'niss had slowed his feasting and listened intently, his attention fixed on the drow women as blood dripped down his chin.

Minthara nodded. "The rumor was that she grew tired of your Matron's wasteful, fruitless ambitions and stabbed her ninety-five times in her sleep. The deed was praised quite highly by those who dared mention it.”

Qilue laughed under her breath. "It was ninety-seven. And my sister didn't do it. I did."

"I see." The warden didn't seem surprised. "Why ninety-seven?"

"One for every year of my life," she replied too easily. "And the poison coating the blade was for Kar'niss."

"The stories didn't mention the poison. What kind?"

"Drider vemon, ironically. I didn't even know of his fate then. They told me he was dead."

Minthara hummed. "It would have been better if he was."

"I know."

"And what of the Patron?" asked Qilue after a moment, dragging the water bucket closer, giving it a casual inspection. The water needed changing, murky and black with dirt, dried blood, and gods knew what else. "Did the rumors mention his fate?"

"He is no longer the Patron, but from my understanding still leads your family's guard."

Qilue scowled. "He was supposed to kill himself. I even gave him a clean knife, which was more than he deserved. Fucker."

A snort burst from the other drow. "If you trusted a male to do the proper thing unsupervised, you're a fool."

"Apparently." Qilue tipped the bucket, spilling water downhill. Gale, listening and watching the exchange with interest, refilled it with a wave of his hand.

"How's that for supervision?" he muttered, mocking the warden's distainful tone.

"Your males are useful," Minthara, having overheard his disrespectful grumbling, pitched her voice to carry. "But poorly trained."

Qilue stifled a laugh as Gale bristled and opened his mouth to retort just as Kar'niss licked the blood from his chin with a tongue much longer than it should have been, half of his eyes squinting in concentration. Gale gagged instead, Astarion chortling as he examined his nails and leaned back against a pillow in front of his tent, one leg propped up on the other.

"I can't speak for Gale, but I'll have you know," the vampire drawled. "That I am in fact MOSTLY house-trained, thank you very much."

"Shut up, Astarion," the drow women and Gale ordered in unison.