#and I'm really scared of orin

[astarionsbeloved]

everyone was absolutely overjoyed to run into a certain hag again.

over

heckin'

joy'd

[meanbossart]

Ok it's possible someone has already asked this and I just haven't seen it yet

But what would it be like, if Drow was a recruited party member, and got romanced by Tav/player? How would he act? Would it impact his character arc in any way? (Is it even possible?)

Oh man I got FAR into the weeds of his hypothetical romance here. Light mechanics, how to get on his good side, and some themes.

The TLDR is that his arc is all about managing his penchant for co-dependency with allusions to Dominant/submissive dynamics. His quest has basically three outcomes:

-In one, you get a sweet, caring man who is a little shut-off and otherwise deeply flawed as most people are. He respects you, looks after you, but ultimately sees you as an equal.

-In the "accepts bhaal" route, you get an egomaniac who sees the both of you as if bound in flesh. He's overwhelmingly intense in everything he does, including his love for you, which he requires be expressed and taken loudly and violently. It's essentially what he wished he had with Orin.

-In the "lost to Orin" route you get a sad little puppy-dog who follows you around and does whatever you want, including take his own life. He's entirely dependent on you as the only person who can keep his urge somewhat in check, insecure, scared, and needy.

(dialogue from this post)

I REALLY liked Larian's decision to make the "bad" outcomes of some of the romances to be kind of... Fetishistic in a self-aware way? You want to relive your high-school years by dating that witchy-goth girl who kept you a secret from her parents until your relationship collapses because, despite appearances, she'll never be hardcore enough to stand up for herself? DJ shadowheart. You want to live out your immortal vampire lord wife fantasy until you become a dusty old fling that he keeps in his closet as eternity and power wear his zest for life and love completely down to nothing? Ascended Astarion. You want to finally Fix Him? God of ambition Gale (a joke. Kind of).

So, I wanted to keep that trend going. DU drow "bad" outcomes are definitely more of a fun fantasy, meanwhile his refused-Bhaal route is almost boring by comparison.

You would be able to affect his path both as a romanced Tav or just as a friend, BUT the only way to survive the end of the game if he's accepted Bhaal would be to be in a relationship with him. You also get to encourage him to follow either the accept or refuse path throughout the game - I'm not really sure how the "lost to Orin" outcome could occur with him as a companion though, mechanics-wise. I'll figure something out eventually.

[kawareo]

what were some of your fav scenes/fights in bg3?

also completely unrelated, but what were Strike’s pre-tadpole stats?

oh boy okay stats first, then the ramble under cut ^-^

I said before that his stats as Durge would be pretty op, and I do know that they are, but I think the fact that he devolves so much before the events of the game evens him out lol - he was also multi-classing into a Fighter. I was trying to think of him more of in a 'what if he was the miniboss instead of Orin' way, rather than as if he were a playable character

After tadpoling, his stats have nearly halved, except Charisma which is still pretty high (like 17 at the start, i think)

I really like the Nere fight for some reason, especially if I made a deal with the duegar and also am trying to keep the gnomes alive!

And the entire part in the Ilithid colony, i love parts where you can clean out a place room by room, and then the big fights, once I figure out the strategies for them (for example, the Moonrise towers, creche, or protecting the grove, love when I learn how to beat them). Also in my evil Durge run every fight is fun because I have Lae'zen, Minthara, Shadowheart's spirit guardians and my sorcerer who can deal two level five spells per round if needed, so we kind of just power through every fight lol

All of the romance/sex scenes are lovely and I could stare at them forever, personal favorite is the Halsin one. The dance scene with Wyll is super cute. The entire tiefling party slaps absolute ass I love that section. Haarlep scene, too! Genuinely scary! That thing scares the shit out of me but their scene is so fun to watch.

Some of my all time favorite scenes are also Ketheric's introduction, Gortash and Orin talking (orin's va fucking killed it there with the "yes so no sir rip and cut your throat sir", i can quote that entire scene from memory), Minsc' introduction! Dame Aylin and Isobel kiss! The coronation scene! Anything where Auntie Ethel shows up! Rolan!

Lmao it might be shorter if I just tell you things that I dislike tbh, the list is shorter; i love Lae'zel but after act 2 I kind of really don't care about her storyline? I dont know why but the political coup and the githyanki drama just isn't that interesting to me. I couldn't care less about Orpheous, either. Genuinely fuck that Lorroakan fight I hate it form the bottom of my heart. Haven't found the dragon yet and I'm scared in advance because I heard some scary shit. I haven't had to fight any of the Thorm family yet because I always charisma my way through them but in my new run I'll try them, the fights look like a bitch though. It's mostly the gityanki stuff (besides Lae'zel herself) that i don't care that much for , almost everything else I can find interest for

[animentality]

I love Baldur's Gate and the Dark Urge and all -

And the idea of the Dark Urge redeeming themselves after a lifetime of horror by literally choosing to die and go to purgatory forever is really amazing. In fact, it's why I'm so dedicated to the Dark Urge as a character.

The idea of a villain losing their memory, becoming a hero, and then realizing that they need to die not just once, but twice to truly DESERVE their redemption is honestly brilliant.

But.

But.

Withers revives you way too fucking fast.

You literally die...and then Withers instantly brings you back.

In fact, it takes him fucking longer to revive your COMPANIONS than you, and your companions dying and being revived at camp aren't even part of the story, it's just you fucking something up and not wanting to waste a revive scroll.

Withers bringing you back instantly comes across as like, oh, so dying for your morals, being a true hero in the end, a martyr, defeating the villain, which is you...it's totally negated.

You died for about twenty seconds.

I've known people who died for longer on the operating table.

Where is my lover crying and clutching my body?

Where are my friends, all looking devastated, because they're all gotten to know me and root for me and truly care about me after I've done ALL THIS for them???

So that they could be safe from me?

Where is the emotion?

He brings you back and then your companions have a single line that's essentially just, "good job buddy."

Karlach says something like, I'm proud of you and Wyll says I'll drink in your name or whatever.

And Astarion has a really obnoxious line about how this means you aren't going to attack him anymore...and it's like... okay.

Cool.

So you guys are totally unphased by the fact that you just watched me die...but I suppose death doesn't mean shit in this game, since you have Withers to constantly bring you back.

Cool.

So then what? Nothing matters?

It's just frustrating because I know it's the cut content curse. They had more planned for Orin and the Dark Urge and Bhaal...but it just feels so underwhelming.

I think BG3's primary flaw comes in the fact that they wanted to build this richly crafted narrative, while also accounting for player choice. And they did a magnificent job of adding SO MANY extra scenes and alternate interactions, to the point where I'm still finding new shit, after like 800 hours of playing...

But the tradeoff is that the character stories...fall really flat, because they want so desperately for a Tav to be the main character, and no one else.

The Dark Urge especially suffers from this, because they made them a murder hobo in one ending, and basically just a Tav in the other ending.

As soon as you are brought back by Withers, you might as well just be a Tav. It has no bearing on anything anymore.

And that's such a shame.

I just wish it had some weight. The Dark Urge has spent their entire life ending lives... it should be beautiful, that they would end their own life to atone...their last victim, would be themselves, as they always knew...but for different reasons-

oh wait, withers is here.

cool, i'm back, guys, let's go to arby's and celebrate.

i just think the game should legitimately make you think you died, at least until a long rest or two.

force the squad to go on without you, make someone else your fourth member.

THEN withers can come to you, maybe in some kind of new Jerrgal-form, so you know he's Jergal for sure, and then reveal he was secretly a retired god.

And honestly, that makes Withers a far more interesting character too. To give him this huge hero moment, and have him say, no, this will not stand. I know he HAS that moment, but it's so rushed.

Let the player breathe on it. Let them FREAK OUT. Can you imagine how much stir it would've created, if Dark Urge players LEGIT thought they were dead permanently?

That would've given their sacrifice real weight.

But Larian was scared, probably, of players being upset that their characters are dead, even though that kind of sacrifice is literally the most heroic thing you could do in the game, besides become a damn mindflayer.

So some sacrifice! You sacrificed ten seconds of your life, and your companions barely care.

Alright. Fine.

I'll just be over here writing your story for you!

[thisaccountisagainstmywill]

Please tell me about those Gort HCs

Hey Anon! Let's go gamer. So the big one I just answered elsewhere was about Gort and sex.

Some of the other things are: Gortash has a general distrust of Magic Gortash has chronic pain (I've implied this in In the Garden of Grief) Gortash is sleeping in Wyrm's Rock because he's scared of Orin. He wears the coat to avoid showing his fear of Orin and the stress of being doppleganger jumpscared constantly. I'm just going to elaborate on that last one because I want to talk about it. Someone posted a picture of the extended map of Baldur's Gate on Discord and I've been thinking about it since. It's really easy to miss how ridiculous Gortash's office location is if you're just interacting with Baldur's Gate as a space within BG3. The entire outer city around Duskhawk Hill is skipped with a zone jump.

He is over a mile away from the city proper as the bird flies. And two miles away by foot. In what world would you have your office and your inauguration this far away from the city proper???* He could also be using that position to continue smuggling. A drop point beneath Wyrm's Crossing would be viable. He appears to be using some of his previously known smuggling routes to find the place to hide the Netherbain in the first place. *I am currently ignoring the fact that this was likely done out of pure necessity on a game development level. Game development can be a massive pain in the ass and it regularly forces you to make cuts and decisions that make no lore sense for the sake of time, money, technology, or convenience.

[justporo]

Heard your call. So let's chat!

So, I've been kinda writing something about my playthrough, Orin has kidnapped Lae'zel and my Tav comes to camp in a rage looking for Lae'zel. Astarion tried to calm her down but then she lashes out at him. He feels rejected af and lashes out too, then she leaves with the rest of the party looking for Lae'zel in Baldur's Gate. Then of course they don't find her at the end of the day and back to camp both my Tav and Astarion need to have "the talk".

And I've been wondering what would be Astarion's feelings on this? Would he be mad because he was yelled at when all he tried to do was to help her out? Would he be sulking because he thinks he did something wrong and fears she is gonna leave him? Or both?

I've been analyzing this out but I'm at a loss here. What do you think?

Hello friend!! Thank you for coming over for a chat!

I've been thinking about this too some time before and I was so far too anxious to write a situation like this.

I think it really depends on different factors: I think his temper would really flare up for a while, he tends to have angry outbursts - we know that. But he also cares about Tav and when you start the dialogue to break up with him (like, who would do that but thanks for the people doing it for science) he immediately asks if he's done something wrong.

Then we also know he tends to deflect his real feelings with mean jokes or lewd comments.

Now if you came back still angry he might even not come talk to you for a while because 1) nah, not going to get yelled at again and 2) he just went through this cycle of emotions and knows you should calm down first. It might be too that he's actually scared to initiate to talk about this.

In fact, in every scenario Tav would have to be the one to address this to work it through or Astarion will just brush it off and swallow it down (obviously for worse and not better).

So I can definitely imagine that when Tav finally comes over he starts by throwing them an offhand comment and almost makes Tav snap at him again. But Tav takes a deep breath and apologises, tells him that they're sorry they snapped at him, that they didn't mean to hurt them.

Because I can imagine Tav is very vulnerable in this situation because their friend has been taken and they're desperate and exhausted. Maybe they even start crying in between because now they feel like they not only failed Lae'zel but now Astarion too.

And I would think Astarion sees that in that moment because he's really started caring for Tav and comforts them and accepts their apology and might also apologise for his own lashing out. They talk about it. Astarion might not be ready to confess his constant fear of just doing something small wrong and Tav leaving him for that but he'll work on that.

Giving them both an opportunity to learn that you make mistakes and that that's okay as long as you make it right after with reflecting on it and speaking your feelings.

So there you go - this is what I would personally imagine. Hope this helps (and also sorry lol, I can't be short with these kinds of things).

[wisecrackzach]

Durge HCs (with appearances from Gortash)

Some hc rotating in my brain about my durge but I'm too lazy to write fics rn so this is my outlet

The Dark Urge and Gortash learned how to ballroom dance together. Gortash knew he was going to take over Baldur's Gate and figured he should know how to dance like the rich do (he's the kinda guy who believes in dressing for the job you want). So, he decides to teach himself and Durge too since he wants to rule with them. It was clumsy, messy, and got a little violent, bloody, and even erotic at times.

Gortash also made Durge do some other proper society training. Obviously, Durge wasn't built for proper society but Gortash dreamed of it and now thay dream included Durge. So, he made them also learn what fork to use for when (the beast and belle dinner scene frfr) and posture training. Durge hated this very much. They threatened Gortash life many times and many fork were stabbed into hands.

I refuse to believe that Gortash doesn't know how to lace his shirt. Therefore, I've decided that durge used to lace them that way because they were always dressed by their followers so they didn't know how. And now Gortash keeps it that way.

I 100% think that Gortash is obsessed with money and appearing rich. He buys gaudy expensive clothes but doesn't know how to wear them or the current trends because he didn't grow up rich. So, he looks kinda silly with his ugly red shoes and anxiety robe but no one dares make fun of him for it.

And because he cared about clothes and presentation he would buy Durge a lot of clothes that durge probably never wore.

Durge probably went to the shoe store Gortash's parents own when they were a kid before becoming the dark urge.

Orin and Durge are kinda like Zuko and Azula to me. Like even though they're both kinda fucked up inside and hate each other, they're still siblings. They probably had dumb arguments as teens like normal siblings but a little bloodier. And they probably braided each other hair and cared for one enough without admitted it was that. I wish so badly their could be an ending with Orin with a redeemed Durge like their was with Zuko and Azula.

Kinda fucked up but I wouldn't put it past them, Orin and Gortash hooked up after the Durge was taken. Buuut Orin would be shapeshifted into Durge for Gortash. Additionally, Orin used the Durge form to mess with Gortash just for fun.

Redeemed Durge HCs

The general public does not know about Durge being from Bhaal's temple and kinda being the cause of it all. Except for Duke Ravengard (if alive). Which makes it really awkward for a Durge romancing Wyll because his father is so clearly scared of Durge. They feel bad and they're trying to calm him but he's definitely resents them a little.

Durge probably killed Gortash's parents after the whole saving the world thing in the good ending. Like this might be a redeemed durge but they still killed them cause they still felt bad for Gortash and his parents sucked.

Durge made a memorial for Orin, Gortash, and Ketheric. Maybe they even added The Dark Urge too, just to remind themselves that's not who they are anymore.

If Durge is a warlock then original their patron is Bhaal but after they reject him Withers is their new patron.

Since they're kinda the hero of Baldur's Gate now, Durge was forced to do a bunch of public appearances and go to fancy parties and balls. Unfortunately, they've forgotten everything that Gortash taught them before about being in the upper crust so Durge is totally lost and feels like a rabid wolf in a bowtie. However, the gang helps them where they can. Primarily, Wyll and Astarion. Lae'zel offers advice but it's never any good...

[katyusha454]

Playing Baldur's Gate 3 has given me a pretty intense fascination with Shar, and it's all down to the way Sharran philosophy reminds my of my own struggles with nihilistic depression.

Most of the "evil" gods in D&D are too over the top to take seriously. Bhaal is downright silly with how ridiculous he gets, with Orin sometimes coming off as the comic relief compared to Ketheric and Gortash's clever scheming and inspirational leadership. But Shar scares the hell out of me, because I know exactly how she destroys people.

When my depression is at its worst, I have this overwhelming feeling of clarity. It feels as though I'd been living in a fog before and now I can see the truth of how meaningless everything is. I'm miserable, and I know I'm miserable, but I don't want to get better because when my head is in that state the depression tricks me into thinking that "getting better" just means sticking my head back in the sand, and why would I ever want to live a lie like that?

(I do not feel this way currently, in fact I'm in a pretty great place mentally, but in all likelihood I will have another severe depressive episode again in the future.)

I imagine that state of mind is what it's like to worship Shar. Shar tells you that your feeling of clarity is right, that everyone else really is living in a state of blissful ignorance. That it's better to accept those harsh "truths" even though it means you'll never be happy again. But it's okay, because you're not crazy, and if you work at it you can convince everyone else to see the truth like you do. And that's good...right?

The last time I had an episode like that was the closest I've ever come to hurting myself. If Shar was real, and especially if she was whispering in my ear, I'd have converted then and there. And I would have been absolutely screwed. A large part of why I recovered from that episode is that I had people in my life who cared about me and helped me understand why I was wrong. But if I'd joined up with a cult of people who all had the same warped worldview, I doubt I would have ever been able to pull myself out of that pit. Shar and her lackeys find people at their most vulnerable and drag them down into an abyss of misery, then those converts repeat the cycle, over and over again.

Just the though of living in a world where that's real makes my skin crawl.

[wilchur]

Daydreaming bg3 scenarios is my full time job at this point and I've had this phenomenal idea on my walk the other day. It's not really a headcanon since it has little basis in canon and directly contradicts some game events and plays with the lore like it's play-doh so more of a AU/fanfic idea, but...

It always struck me as inaccurate for Durge to be referred to as a "Bhaalspawn" since they're literally a PART of Bhaal made into a separate person in an act of (very confusing) divine creation and it really downplays just how powerful and dangerous they are. Especially since I fully subscribe to the idea that Durge is NOT a mortal, but that's simply not in the game due to just how OP it would be to play an unkillable Dame Aylin-esque character and the definition of a Bhaalspawn is "mortal offspring of the dead god Bhaal". So what the hell are they?

The Slayer. Or at least they're a direct vessel for it, more like.

No, really. Hear me out. Have you noticed how Gortash refers to Orin as "The Slayer" in that bit of dialogue when she puts a dagger to Ketheric throat? Except she's not? Not yet at least because the dialogue does not change depending on if you're still the one who has Bhaal's favour or not and she doesn't get it until you piss of Dad enough for him to go "fine have it your way, ungrateful brat". Plus I don't think The Slayer has been used as a shorthand for "Chosen of Bhaal" anywhere else sooo... Does he assume it's a feature of the position since he knew Durge had command over the form before their disappearance?

That's what birthed the first worm in my brain leading to this unhinged infestation, but it's not all -- there's THE URGE itself.

The game fucks it up SO bad on the whole front because it's reluctant to take choice away from the player, which is maybe understandable, but absolutely WRECKS the narrative that it's something to be afraid of. There's what? Alfira and the squirrel? Those are the only unavoidable consequences of having these supposedly violent and divine compulsions baked into every cell of your damn body. Saving your partner from a gruesome death by your hand needs a dice roll of 15, for fuck's sake! It was harder to convince a bunch of goblins to not turn me into an arrow pin cushion. Durge themself has been scared shitless of it their entire life and you're telling me the thing mostly boils down to dialogue choices? That just won't do for me, sorry. In the game The Urge's source is also never really explained beyond "of course you have unstoppable violent compulsions, you're 100% Bhaal's flesh and blood" which is fucking BORING and doesn't make sense to me because as far as I know Bhaal loves murder because that's his domain as a god, he was not a compulsive killer as a mortal so why would it be something that's passed down? No, The Urge is a fucking Slayer thing!

"It also had the ability to incite attraction in others, and remove any negative feelings they felt, or compel an urge to slay in any intentionally malevolent being, whenever it chose."

To be fair this is from a 2e sourcebook, but COME ON. Didn't it strike anyone else as weird that young Durge is mentioned to have slain an entire PALADIN ORDER before making their way to the temple if you're playing as an oathbreaker? Like, HOW? Slayer form bay-be, that's how.

(Can you tell by now I'm not normal about the idea? Yeah.)

All living creatures learn the best from their own mistakes and I think that letting The Slayer take over would be Bhaal's version of letting your incessant kid touch the clothes iron because they just refuse to leave it alone. Bad parenting, but it's Bhaal we're talking about lmao. "Oh you don't want to kill? No biggie, fuck around and see what happens then. I'll wait." is way fucking scarier to me than him just forcing Durge's hand with the butler basically being like "Heads up, master. Your father is pretty mad and your Urge is hungry so you might commit a murder tonight!" right beforehand.

Just the mental image of Durge thinking "I've done it! I've saved Isobel!" and then having the starved Slayer rip itself out of them like it does out of Orin when Bhaal forces her to transform... You see my vision right? RIGHT? And then the beast gets slain because what else is there to do and since Durge is immortal they just come back to themself instead of becoming goo (which is a game mechanic already since their sis is not so lucky, rip). The drama and angst potential is INFINITE. The sheer raw power of THAT being the "Bhaalspawn" reveal because if Isobel is alive that means Jaheira must be there like "what the FUCK are you exactly??" and no one can pretend that Durge is just Bhaalspawn+ like they do in the game. Do they kill anyone? People are bound to be at least heavily injured, especially since they've JUST fought Ketheric's bossfight and are not rested and at full potential.

GOD, I am rotating this thing in my head so fast the friction is bound to make my brain melt.

[zapsoda]

i think supervillain organizations need human resources too: zapsoda states the obvious for a looooong time

i find black hat fascinating because he is truly sadistic in a way many villains are not and it gives him a really bizarre dynamic with his 2.5 employees.

his sadism is something you have to keep in mind when analyzing all other asepcts of his character because it immediately answers most of the questions that arise throughout. for example:

q. why does he torture and threaten his employees?

a. he enjoys it :3

q. why is he so adamantly opposed to replacing them, despite his supposed contempt?

a. either he doesnt actually dislike them that much, or the catharsis and pleasure from tormenting them all the time makes up for it.

and finally, the one i enjoy the most: why is his favorite employee flug?

obviously, his least favorite is 505, because 505 is like. the embodiment of good. the opposite of evil. hes basically a big fluffy hero which is like. exactly what he hates. you might be asking: why does he let flug keep him around then? the answer:

i just have to trust all the bullshit the wiki says at face value since none of its sources are accessible anymore as far as i can tell.

anyways, that leaves us with flug and demencia. and demencia is like ... the obvious choice. i'm not just like biased cause i'm in love with her shes got it all: she's evil (at least more evil than flug), shes strong as fuck, and she worships bh. that's perfect, isn't it? the thing is, he doesn't seem to like her as much. this is the most evil part about him i think but here's why:

dem looooves him and i don't think he really wants to be loved i think he wants to be feared. he doesn't want people to feel happy when he's around, he's evil. theyre like orin scrivello and arthur denton.

in this regard, dem is a little too crazy for him, in the sense that she does not have the self preservation instincts flug has. she knows when to fuck off so bh doesnt rend her to pieces, but she generally doesnt exhibit the same fear or caution that flug does, because she believes fully that she is sooo awesome and black hat is soo perfect and in love with her that nothing bad will happen ever.

this makes her supremely difficult to fuck with in the traditional sense, because if he tries to do it without some sort of disguise or element of surprise, she'll just make big heart eyes lol. black hat doesnt get his desired reaction, and the interaction is no longer enjoyable for him.

obv, bh still has some attachment to her and does still find ways to screw with her, but it is harder and he has to be more creative. i think what he primarily enjoys about her is how evil she is. this might be a bit far fetched, but in the wrestling episode he clearly loved making her beat the shit out of flug. i think maybe he sees a bit of himself in her. but see, even here he is using her to accomplish the larger goal of getting under flugs skin (literally and figuratively).

so ultimately, we are left with flug. he is (also) entirely loyal and obedient to bh, but also he is scared shitless of the guy. i cannot stress enough that flug sees himself very highly, thus, he values self preservation above most other things. the way he sees it, he is so smart and awesome he can't die or feel immense pain, that would really suck! this is perfect, because it makes him so, so easy to fuck with, and black hat takes advantage of this constantly. its basically his favorite hobby.

this dynamic wouldnt work, of course, if flug didn't also have this weird fucking stockholm syndrome or whatever. he does adore bh. the bit in the opening of the pilot where he dreams of getting like. the mildest praise imaginable from black hat. haunts me esp cause it doesnt seem to come up again after that. he obviously wants to be respected/revered/admired for his intelligence and accomplishments, and from someone who he respects as much as bh even the tiniest crumb of validation is enough. because of that, he will do basically fucking anything for bh.

thus, black hat gets the best of both worlds: 505s fear and eternal suffering and demencias evil love and respect.

[serendipizzy79]

Urgh, another sworn oath? It's ok, Morrigna will know what to do!

Yeah, gotta admit, I'm more scared of Psycho Bhaal Babe Orin than I am of you, Gortash.

You mean, like my alliance with you, oh Emperor?!

🤦🏻‍♀️ Astarion has a lot in common with The Emperor, really.

The cheek of this guy. Yeah I'm only famous because of you. I'm staying alive out of sheer spite now.

Ooo he evil.

Wouldn't it have been great if you could have controlled Duke Ravengard with his tadpole and got him to chop off Gortash's head, right then and there? Surely I'm not the only one that thinks about it whenever someone is knighted?!

And how have I only just found out that Gortash is voiced by the most delectable Jason Isaacs?

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 12

If you thought I'd make it easy for my boys to be together....honey, you've got another thing coming.

I'm so sorry 🙃

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 11, 12, 13 Word Count: 3349 (average 25 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, homophobia, fantasy racisms. Steamy scenes will come to those who are patient. :) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

The Council was a group of old men who should have probably died or retired ages ago and they still believed their opinions mattered to generations much younger than them. I sat at the front of the long, rectangular room next to the seat of my father. There were nine council members, five on one side, four on the other, all regarding each other like they were better than all the others. I wondered if any of them even considered anyone else in this room their friend, or if they were all in this just to barter their way of life into this town.

I was equal parts frustrated by their traditional methodology and scared at the power they still held over a society that had evolved since their time. They were capable of so much simply because they had climbed up the ranks until there was nowhere else to go. 

My father had been summoning me to each Council meeting for the past week and I found myself bored to tears each time. I contributed very little to their conversations, and I already knew that I was doomed to disappoint all of them again today.

Most of the items of business were small, inconsequential things like adding more roads, where to expand for more homes as more people come to our town. With each one we offered our vote, when there really wasn’t much to vote on. I found my fingers itching to be playing with something other than the fringe on the hem of my sleeve. 

I couldn’t deny that my father - despicable as he is - was a committed leader. His attention was fully invested in each person’s comments, and he weighed all of the options equally. 

My father was an intelligent man, and a deep thinker and I think that’s why it hurt me so much every time that he didn’t seem to have the heart to make sense of me. I wasn’t worth his time mulling over and understanding - to him I was simply broken and in need of his repair.

Time moved slowly, but I did my best to keep my mind on the present conversation. I was surprised that my father didn’t ask more of me since he insisted that I be there, but I was also grateful to not be put at the center of attention in front of these old men. 

After a long laundry list of things, my father cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, “Council Orin, I seem to recall you mentioned to me an issue you were having in the Northern district?” 

I watched closely as the man named Orin nodded sagely towards the Duke. “Ah yes, thank you, Your Grace. Gentlemen, I’d like to discuss the matter of a newcomer that’s been in town. A well respected innkeeper came to me with some concern that an orc has been staying in his inn for the past nine days now. He doesn’t appear to be here for any particular reason besides to loiter in our streets. We’ve been good enough to attract very little of the other folk in Faerun, and I wonder if there is something to be done with this newcomer?”

I gripped the armchair of my seat as I was forced to listen to these men discuss their distaste for orcs. With one mention of Drun’s race, they suddenly all felt it was their right and permission to exclaim their opinion - all of the despicable and completely wrong. They were talking about Drunrag, my Drun. They called him unclean, and one of the cursed races because they had sided centuries ago with the enemy. A long dead enemy that Drun had nothing to do with. They were formulating plans to get him out of town. I had to say something, but I couldn’t, not when I looked over and saw the way my father was watching me with such a smug look.

He shifted in his seat again and cleared his throat, the room fell into expectant silence. 

My Father spoke, “Altan, son, what do you say is the best course of action? Perhaps your youth can help us see a different light?”

I refused to look back at him. He was mocking me. I knew he was cornering me to fold and not say anything. I knew if I said what I felt, it would fall on deaf and racist ears. Instead I sat straight and held my fingers tight like claws on the armchair. “Perhaps it would be wise to avoid making a rash decision until we learn why he’s here.”

“The innkeeper says the orc won’t speak when he talks to him. Says he’s practically mute.” Councilman Orin responded.

Another Councilman jumped in, “I thought I saw him working with that Dragonborn Doxxah in the Northern District, perhaps they’re plotting something.”

I couldn’t believe them. Doxxah had been here for years and had proven themselves again and again to be an honest, hardworking contributor to the town. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another round of the men exclaiming their dislike of Dragonborns, of Orc of all the races they felt uncomfortable around.

“It’s not as if we don’t want them in our town.” One of them said, “But it must be understood that our town was built centuries ago as a fortress to protect our ancestors from the dangers that these very same races brought outside our day every day. Do we ignore our past and history just to embrace these newcomers into our town?”

“I don’t see any reason why we should be the same as our ancestors from hundreds of years ago.” I replied. They all looked at me with furrowed brows. “Perhaps Berdusk is more than about keeping tradition, but about making traditions that provide comfort and safety for all folks who pass through. Neither Doxxah or this orc you speak of has caused any true offense that warrants this amount of distrust towards them. Perhaps change is not so bad for a town and we simply need more time.”

My father tapped his finger on his armrest, “So you would erase our history from us?”

I shook my head, “That’s not what I'm suggesting at all. I see it as an expansion of what we could offer.”

“But we can’t please everyone, young lord.” One man said, “We are not as impressive of a town as those larger, more advanced cities like Waterdeep, or Baldur’s Gate. We cannot easily accommodate them and our people would not be comfortable to change for them. Wouldn’t it be safer for them to not be here?”

“So you’re saying we force this gentleman to vacate our town?”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a gentlemen, young lord. He’s an orc, he’s from the wild plains in the South. They’re undignified and so uncouth there.” 

My voice was shaking as I spoke. “I don’t see any sound reason to kick him out.”

“It’s for the safety of the town. You must remember that the North District is where families live. An orc living there is…well…it’s preposterous and it cannot stand.”

Tradition. Family. Protecting what’s always been. These were the grumblings that this town rested everything on. It was a narrative that had pervaded and infected the way the Council viewed anything. They had used the same disgusting rant on my mother when she had tried to change things here to help her children and other people's children. Remembering her then made my blood turn hot and I couldn’t listen to any of that bullshit anymore. I sprung to my feet, my chair making a loud clatter as it fell back. The room fell silent.

“You are the ones who are preposterous. Look at you! You all live in denial that times have changed since you were young. Times have changed since our ancestors. Time changes people, it changes us. We have a chance to be more than just Berdusk, a town where all Men live and thrive. Why must it just be humans? Because you’re more comfortable looking at someone who looks and thinks exactly like you! It's easier, isn't it? It’s too uncomfortable to have to consider that other races could be better at your job than you! It's too uncomfortable to have to recognize that maybe your traditions are worse than outright violence. You don’t like that the world is changing to make you less important and you would drive out every last race that isn’t human if you had the chance, wouldn’t you? Including me.” 

The silence in the room was deafening and none of the Councilmen would meet my eyes as I let them have a taste of what I thought of each of them.

I turned to look at my father, who was looking at me with a smug look. 

“I’m dismissing myself from this meeting.” I said, before stepping down and racing out of the room. 

I caught the eye of Commander Gideon who was standing outside the door into the room. He didn’t move, but I caught something in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before. I didn’t bother dwelling on it as I continued my march out of the room, out of the building and down the steps towards the town below me. 

The guards weren’t prepared as I barreled passed them and down the street. They tried to follow me, but I shook them off quickly as I wound through the crowds and into another crowded street. My head was pounding, my heart was racing and I only had one place I wanted to be. 

I burst into Doxxah’s bakery, out of breath and heaving. “Where is he?” I asked.

Doxxah broke into a grin and pointed behind them. “In the back, young lord.” 

I didn’t wait for permission to walk around the counter. I wove my way through the various obstacles until I found my way into the back where the room was so much more warm with all of the ovens burning. There was Drun, covered in flour and sweat. He hadn’t seen me and was bent over a tray of rolls, sprinkling a dusting of cinnamon over the top of them. He was biting his bottom lip and was deep in concentration.

All of the tension inside of me loosened at being able to see him. He was adorable in that moment, and I would have loved to take in the image of him like this, but I needed him. I cleared my throat and waited for him to look at me. 

His eyes, his beautiful stormy grey eyes found mine and he raised to his full height. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He looked behind me with a worried expression. He seemed afraid to approach me.

“I just needed to see you.” I said. “I’m…” I felt hot tears as I looked at him. Why couldn’t they see him the way I saw him? He was gentle, he was beautiful, he carried himself so carefully and thoughtfully. How could someone look at him - sprinkling cinnamon on a roll with such care for gods’ sake- and tell me he was of a lesser race? There was nothing about Drunrag that I didn't find lovely and safe and good. I closed the distance and barreled into him, wrapping my arms around him with my head buried in his chest. “Please, let’s go.”

“Where?” He asked.

“Anywhere,” I said, my voice was muffled in his chest and I felt like some pathetic child. 

I felt Drun’s hands settle around me. Holding me around my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. His body was so warm.

“Will we be safe?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to answer.

“Altan.” he said and he pulled me back so he could look at me, he took my hand and placed it on his chest. Oh all of the nine hells consume me, my name on his lips was sin. Gods I needed him.  “Do you feel it?” he asked, using the same words I had said to him.

And I felt it, the quick beating of his heart. It was strong and steady and purposeful. I pressed my hands there, feeling comfort in its power.

“Do you understand?” He asked.

I nodded.

“Do you trust us?” He asked.

“I trust us.” I said. “But my father will never allow me to be with you. We’ll never be safe.” I looked up at him, “The city intends to kick you out, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they plan to do worse. If I can’t go with you, then promise me you’ll go and be safe.”

He shook his head, “Not without you.”

“Then let’s go.” I said. “I’ll leave it all behind, right now.”

I heard Doxxah’s throat clear behind me and I whirled around to see Commander Gideon standing next to them. 

“Your grace.” He said, his voice was gentle. “Your father asked that I get you…he wanted me to inform you that you should say your goodbyes now.”

It was a threat. Say goodbye to your lover and come back repentant or face the punishment. My body tensed and I resisted moving. 

“It’s alright, Altan.” Drun said softly, his hand was on my arm, and he gently coaxed me to return my attention to him. 

I nodded, my face wet with tears. “Drun…I love you.”

He nodded, his hand tightened around me. “And I you.” He leaned forward and his forehead was pressed to mine. “I’m yours, djenifad. Don’t give up on me.” 

He pushed me gently towards the door and I resisted every time. I saw the pain reflected in his eyes as I was being pulled away again from him. “Drun, Drunrag. I love you. I love you...” I could only say it again and again as Commander Gideon took my arm and gently began to pull me away. Drun was standing there, watching me and I saw a faint glint of wet light in his eyes. 

Commander Gideon was gentle as he pulled me discreetly into the carriage that was waiting outside the bakery’s steps. Of course there were still many eyes on us as I pulled myself in. 

“Commander,” I managed to say, struggling to stay composed. “What does my father intend to do to him?”

He remained calm, and he was gentle in his answer, “The Duke did not make any mention of the young orc, only to return you home.”

Somehow, that left me more scared, but I could do nothing else but nod and utter my gratitude to him. He was being surprisingly gentle and kind about all of this. 

Doxxah stood at the door, but not before approaching me and placing in my hands a small box. “He made this one, he added so much cinnamon I couldn’t sell them. I think they’re for you.” 

I laughed before immediately coughing and choking on my tears. My Drun, he remembered I loved cinnamon. I couldn’t speak. I was so overwhelmed with emotion. Doxxah closed the door and backed away, waving gently at me. They didn’t say anything, but I saw an ally in them. They would take care of Drun while I couldn’t be by his side.

The ride was silent, uncomfortable and the Commander was once again patient and gentle as he told me that I was to be escorted to the Duke’s chambers to meet with him. In all of this, I could sense a reluctance in the Commander’s actions. I’m sure he felt a bit like a babysitter and could easily resent me for making his job such a headache, but he continued to remain neutral and impassive. 

My father’s chambers was a room I only saw when I was in trouble and I only ever associated it with bad memories. I never remembered seeing it until I started to disobey my father’s rules and resist his instructions for me, and then I would be taken there to be given a stern talking to. When stern talkings to didn’t work for him, it turned into ridicule, chastisement and sometimes physical punishment. I hated that room.

The room was all dark wood panels, red velvet curtains that kept the room dark and moody. He had little furniture in there, just a round room that was dark and shadowy. When the Commander let me walk in, he waited outside and I stepped in alone.

“You made quite the impression in the Council meeting today.” The Duke said. He was sitting at a chair, a scroll in his hand that he was reading.

My jaw was tight as I took in the sight. “You can do anything you want to me, but you can’t hurt him, do you understand?”

“By our laws, we have no grounds to do anything to him yet.” My father said coolly, not looking up from his readings. “But if I hear or see that he has touched you in any way…I can promise you that I will remove him from your life in one fell swoop and ruin any chance of you seeing him again. I have him right where I want him to keep an eye on him. And you, my son, will be kept under a more severe supervision. So I know where you will be at all times. Be careful of your actions.” 

“Why is it so important to you to control me?” I asked, fighting back the emotion in my voice. I had to stay in control. “There is no love lost between us. Why must we suffer ourselves through this? I’ll never be the person you want me to be. Just let me go, let me be happy with him. I’ll never speak your name again. I’ll change my name if I must. But we don’t have to keep doing this anymore.”

“You ungrateful, insolent boy.” My father seethed, “You have been given everything since the day you were born and I have been the one to give it to you. I could have taken you from your mother as soon as I saw how she was turning your mind against me. But I let her keep you. You were always hers and I was gracious enough to let it be that way. But she is gone and you are mine now, and I will see you thanking me for the mercy I continue to show you.”

“I’m not grateful.” I spat, “How can I be grateful when you intentionally keep me from being who I am? Just…please…let us go.”

He sighed, feigning exhaustion. “I know the moment I set either of you free, you’ll be crawling right back to each other. I see it in both your eyes, you're sick for each other.” 

“I’m not sick, I’ve never been sick. This is my choice.” I pleaded back, “Your Grace…Father. I love him, he means more to me than my own life.”

His eyes became wild at those words, “You would bring yourself this low to get the attention you so crave? If you desire to be nothing more than a whore, then I will find you someone better than this. You depraved child.” He rose to his feet. “I do not see how you became so wrong as you grew, but this would disappoint even your mother to see you as wanton as you are for that beast. You will not see him again, and if either of you seek each other out, it will cost him his freedom.”

I flinched, the words bit into me and I felt tears form once again on the surface of my eyelids, but I did not blink, nor back down, “So what will you have of me, now that I am your depraved, sick, deranged prisoner?” I asked “Should I worship you? Kiss your feet for your bounteous generosity for saving me from my own choices? Or would you prefer your prisoners to stay silent, meek and submissive?”

“You will be grateful and you will follow my instructions with obedience. Do you understand?” His eyes were cold and heartless as he regarded me. “Your life will be easier once you start to see what I’m doing for you and you’ll thank me someday.”

I could not bring myself to beg anymore. I saw the finality of his words in his eyes. He intended to break me, and I was afraid there was no hope to be free this time.

[zephamello]

whatcha think about james? (and optionally..."the god"?)

James is another one I love so very much and I think it's funny that he is now "the god" like it lowkey aids his inflated ego of himself LMAO-

I really like the headcanon that he adopts Kurt. They make for an adorable father and son,, Ik a good few Orin Ayo fans on here saw my post of them in the Sims hugging hehe.

I like James's ceiling design, like it's creepy as shit and it helps with the mod mood and his own creepiness hugely. I like his remake design too, I guess I just don't really understand it? It's really cool for his overall character in the remake, I'm just wondering the reasoning behind it. Some of the faces on him are silly hehe, I wonder if that was intended

The other redesign for James where he was a visible mouth still scares the shit outta me *sobs* but again like, it really suits him and the mod, but I have a preference for the og one :3

His og voice is really cool, I kinda like not being able to fully understand what he's saying. It's really cool in the remake too, though I'm not sure how I feel about the pronunciation of some of the words tho,, it's still an interesting change regardless :D

(also I switched to my computer to type these responses hence the lack of emojis LOL)

Also here's my design for him if anyone wants to see :D In my AU he's left the ceiling and is now pretty much an amputee in a wheelchair (he has half-legs)

[animentality]

Your post about dark urge dying twice is interesting and I agree that denying daddy bhaal at the temple and being resurrected right after is a let down. Anyways, playing a good Durge who never says anything mean/weird feels to me a lot like tav+ which is disappointing, not a lot of durge specific lines there to choose from. Best experience I have had with The Dark Urge is antihero, who chooses bhaal at the temple but does the right thing at the end and destroys the brain and kills themself, you get a nice chat with Withers after game and it feels a way better than what a happened at the temple, while still not being as good as it could be. Let's all hope that Larian fixes act3 eventually <3

See, that's the thing that really annoys me.

The Dark Urge to me is just far more interesting than Tav, who is by design, a blank slate so that you can make them who you want them to be.

And I get that's the fun of DND and BG3.

I just wish they had bothered to give this ORIGIN CHARACTER any of the same amount of depth for the other origins.

Which is not to say that they really have as much depth as they should, Astarion aside, but let's not get into that.

It's just odd to me that the Dark Urge really only has three extra scenes, and everything else is just edgy lines and biting off a toe or an arm here and there.

The pre-amnesia dark urge is FASCINATING to me, but we barely see anything from them.

That's why I was so obsessed with the Prayer of Forgiveness. It's an inkling that there was something to the Dark Urge more than just slaughter, and there's only ONE line in it that does so.

I KNOW I know it's an RPG and it's not trying to tell a story, so much as letting you tell yours.

I just personally find the Dark Urge way more interesting than the Tavs i see out there, and YES, I'm SORRY.

not all of yours OCs are going to be intensely interesting to me.

But the Dark Urge as an origin?

I find them interesting.

I like edgy characters who choose to let their edginess go, and begin the journey of becoming more open and human.

And I simply don't CARE for oh here's someone's hero OC who is a hero, and fucks all these hot people.

You can play the game that way, I don't care. I just personally...wish BG3 had given the Dark Urge specifically more depth.

The Tavs can be boring if they want.

Just, the Dark Urge should not be available as an Origin, if they weren't going to actually give them a well developed and open origin.

You can keep it a secret up until the end, but even when you find out you're bhaalspawn...you're just bhaalspawn.

and nothing else. nothing about your past beside a hasty line or two about it.

plus once you kill orin, it ceases to matter. there is no impact on the story if you choose to be a good dark urge. you are essentially just a tav.

the dark urge also was overhyped for what it was. Everyone is out here saying they're scared to try the dark urge because they might kill their companions - that's a joke.

You have to option to do so ONCE and your entire camp kills you, giving you an immediate game over.

Plus, save scumming.

It's really not that hard.

The Dark Urge really should be a harder option. They should have to wisdom roll for more choices, forced to ACTUALLY grapple with the desire to torture, maim, and kill.

Then your sacrifice would mean even more in the end, because you are tired of hurting people you don't want to hurt.

But alas.

I need to just be happy with what I have, so.

I'm done complaining, I'll go back to talking about burying my face in Gortash's tits again...

[mightymizora]

what are manva's thoughts/feelings on sarevok?

Ohohohohohoooo

She is scared of him and also weirdly horny for him

Putting this under the cut for discussions of bhaalspawn breeding nonsense.

So I had sort of justified Sarevok in BG3 as having partially been taken over by the will of Bhaal by this point (which I think is supported by the letter you can get in the epilogue.) After burying Tamoko the emptiness he feels allows Bhaal to sneaky sneak back into him which leads to his return to Baldur's Gate and siring Helena and Orin. He sees this fate as an inevitability, though I'm not sure it is, exactly.

Manva meets Sarevok when he has been bought back into the fold for some years now. She is 13, brought to the temple as the blood of Bhaal but not yet his chosen. She knows of him from the reading she has done at the temple of Ilmater where she was raised, and she tries to approach him with a compassion, which he hates. Though he does not like her, he does allow her to be raised with his own daughter for a few years before Bhaal, obviously, intervenes in the burgeoning closeness between the three. He comes to Sarevok in a prophetic dream and puts him into the same trance that he put on him to influence the siring of Helena, and tells him that should his purest child fail in her duty to bring death to Toril, he will sire a new generation with her.

He shares this dream with her with some glee and she is terrified. She's a teenager at this point, still finding her way, barely understanding herself or her body past the most basic understanding of a young girl. This is the first she's ever thought about sex, and it's with this abjectly terrifying man who has acted as almost a surrogate for fatherhood for her... and kind of still is, but it's now as a surrogate of Bhaal's will. She prays to her father often to declare that she will not fail, that she is entirely devoted to success. She reads more about Sarevok. She learns about his weaknesses, and makes him almost a bit of an avatar for the fear of sex and consummation that she develops. She is both terrified of him, but also over time sees him as likely to be the only person her father will allow her to breed with, which creates a really messed up crush for about ten years which is largely expressed through a back-and-forth with Bhaal which I won't go into here.

It's when she goes out into the world a little more, when she realises that this is likely a pattern,and sees some evidence of this in Orin, that she breaks free of this slight cowed reverence and into seeing him solely as a threat. Oddly, it's when this strength is shown that Sarevok actually starts to respect her a little more as well.

[archive-of-note]

Florida man hasn't completed any fic in a hot minute... returns with a different fandom and POV style...

Astarion x Dark Urge OC (Markus) a bit that sprouted off from a different fic attempt but felt too different to stay in the other doc... so here it is now, on its own.

no real... anything really, just an interaction as i try and hammer out their whole deal, so two traumatized men who's whole lives have been defined and shaped by violence, trying to figure out how to interact with each other and the rest of the world.

some tweaks to the Durge backstory, and whole deal really. the way the game treats the Urges is... odd, almost like they're a separate thing from your character's thought process at times

oh, implied past Gortash x Durge, but even he isn't completely sure what the exact nature of their relationship used to be.

I'm terrible at naming fics btw, that hasn't changed, suggestions welcome

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We need to talk.”

Markus breathes in, the fact Astarion is initiating heavy conversation is enough of a warning that he shouldn’t try and put this off.

“Okay.”

Markus just keeps scrubbing his clothes, waiting.

“Are you going to even look at me?”

Markus doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t know what to expect, but the waiver in Astarion’s voice, that sliver of fear, it supersedes his own.

Astarion’s shoulders relax just a bit when Markus turns, and the elf takes a few steps forward until he’s standing next to the tiefling.

Markus wrings out his clothes and waits.

“What are we? To you.”

Markus almost giggles, the same words he’s asked the elf a few too many times, to the point Astarion has had to preemptively reassure Markus that yes, what they are is something important and special to him.

“I—“ Markus sighs, dunking his robes in the wash basin, more so a fidget than actual cleaning.

“You, you make me happy, and I don’t know if I’ve ever been happy like this, and that scares the shit out of me.” The admission makes Markus feel raw, like an exposed nerve.

Astarion huffs, and if Markus didn’t know better he’d be hurt by how dismissive it sounds.

“Aroused certainly, annoyed definitely, but happy?” Astarion sounds almost disgusted with the word, “Not usually the feeling people associate with me darling.”

The thing is Markus isn’t even completely certain if what he’s feeling is happiness. Before his memories decided to rush back into place, before Gortash went ahead and talked about their history with vague fondness and some deep tonal implications, he was quite certain what Astarion had him feeling was happy.

But now? Now he has bits and pieces, choppy and half formed but coherent enough to paint a picture.

What he feels with Astarion is good, but it’s nothing like what he knows to be happy.

Happy for Markus is being elbow deep in viscera, the terrified whimpers of someone desperately trying to keep silent, wide eyes collapsing as all hope is lost and they beg for some sort of mercy.

That’s happy.

Markus presses his face into Astarion’s hip to think.

Astarion jumps at the sudden press of the tiefling’s face into his side, but after a few seconds he places a hand between Markus’s horns.

Markus inhales, brandy, bergamot, rosemary, and beneath that, the subtle saltiness of sweat and leather.

How many times has he blindly followed that smell? How many times has he pressed his face into the dips and creases of Astarion’s skin, using his scent as an anchor?

Safe.

It’s some small part of him that had been crushed and muffled since his father claimed him. The scared child he was when he opened his eyes to bloody hands and flesh filled teeth, the people he called parents dead and decorating the walls of their small home for his nameday.

Gods, when was the last time he thought about his parents? When was the last time he could think about his parents?

Astarion presses his thumb to the base of one of Markus’s horns, it’s that spot that sends a tickle down the scar Orin left down the side of his nose.

“Let me in?”

Markus presses his face a bit deeper into Astarion’s side, some delight wiggling it’s way into his crowded mind when he realizes the elf actually has some give, a touch of softness where his waist turns into hip.

“It’s a mess.”

Astarion scoffs, “The only one of us messier than you is Karlach, at least you have the excuse of drama worthy amnesia.”

Markus snorts.

“You’ve seen my messes, helped me clean them even, let me return the favor?”

Markus stiffens, but before he can say anything Astarion continues.

“Because I want to, darling. Not because I think I owe you.”

Markus sighs, shoulders dropping when he feels the bit of insistence from Astarion trying to probe his mind.

He opens the connection a crack, and he can feel Astarion brush past the confusion, the worry, the few memories of Gortash he was able to cobble together.

“The way he spoke, I assumed you’d been sharing more than world domination plans.”

“I still don’t know if we did.”

Most of the memories are factual, no real emotions come with them, deaths he’s caused, tortures committed, he isn’t numb to them, but the only emotions he feels are the ones he has to them now.

The few that flood him with emotion, all have to do with his father.

The truth of his lineage, the first day Sceleritas appeared before him, the first mass he lead in his father’s name.

Those come with fondness, warmth, pride. He has a feeling those emotions are not entirely, if at all, his own.

“Red is a lovely color on you dear, but I must say, even this is a bit much.”

Markus snorts, letting that starburst of fondness in his chest bleed over into Astarion’s awareness.

“I’m quite certain most of the memories I had returned were ones my father felt were necessary, if I recall anything else, it is by sheer happenstance.”

Astarion hums in distaste, “Quite telling, don’t you think, that Bhaal would have to censor your memory.”

Markus… Markus hadn’t considered that.

Astarion taps Markus with his foot, a silent instruction for the tiefling to make space for the vampire to sit.

Markus does just that.

“Try and remember something, anything, that has nothing to do with him.”

Markus opens his mouth to argue, his entire being, his very person hood, was a facet of his father, that was the intention.

“Cazador tried to break me, he intended to break me.”

Markus’s mouth clicks shut.

“I did not break, I bent and I bowed, but I did not break.”

Flashes, moments, bits and pieces of hunger pangs and broken fingernails. Rotten rats and the burn of an ill handled blade. Condescending coos and obviously false promises, disrespect and degradation.

They all come with emotions, disgust, fear, exhaustion, but there is a constant.

Rage.

The true depths of which were kept under wraps, the flairs and bursts Cazador saw only fractions of what the younger elf truly contained.

“You were not helpless without Bhaal’s guidance, and I doubt that was something that just suddenly came to you.”

Markus can feel Astarion shuffling through memories, tossing aside bloody images and and terrified screams, looking for something that has nothing to do with Markus’s divine inheritance.

“Well hello.”

It takes Markus a moment to orient his mind to what Astarion has found.

It’s her.

Heat rises to Markus’s cheeks before he really knows why.

“Now I do believe daddy dearest had nothing to do with this.”

The memories are haphazard, choppy.

The swish of a tail, the supple curve of a thigh, the drag of claws beneath his chin.

Vanilla and pine covering the electrified ozone that comes with high magic use.

Astarion’s eyes widen, his hands cupping Markus’s cheeks as he digs around for memories of the woman that once drove the tiefling mad.

“Oh darling, I knew you had taste, but my oh my, I’m surprised they’re so refined.”

Markus doesn’t know how to take that, but before he can say anything a new memory emerges, a dagger at his throat.

Not when he first met Astarion, no, the dagger in his memory is sharpened to a delicate but lethal edge, a smooth curve and jeweled pommel.

“It seems you have a type.”

Markus feels a chuckle forming, but it stalls in his throat.

The memory of her flirtatious smile turns horrified, a thick line of blood dripping down her brow, the smell of burning fabric and the sting of electricity beneath his skin.

Anger, fear, disgust, regret.

The message is clear, “You have no time for such needless distractions.”

Markus grabs Astarion’s wrist as he pushes the elf from his mind, desperate for some comfort but also scared for his safety.

No wonder he believed Sceleritas so quickly, he’d tried to kill someone he cared about before. Had succeeded in the case of his parents in name.

“I…” Markus feels a trembling in his chest. Fear, promising placations, promises that his lapses in judgment were long term plans, that his lack of bloodshed wasn’t stalling, it was all part of a plan.

The Plan.

His head pounds as his mind scrambles, fragments of answers to even more fragmented questions.

Desperate calls for silence, the singing of blood, a moment's respite from the violent flesh craving, desperation and fractions of perfect quiet moments.

His nose is bleeding.

“No need to let that go to waste.”

A cool callused finger wipes his lip.

Markus… Markus wants to sleep.

“Are you hungry?”

Astarion understands.

Astarion understands and Markus knows whatever he had with Gortash didn’t have this. A silent knowing, intrinsic understanding. They had been made rotten by circumstance but Gortash just made Markus’s rot worse.

Gortash saw him a feral lap dog, something kept on a leash and appeased with random bursts of praise and the occasional treat.

Astarion may have started by playing a similar hand, but even his calculated approvals were more heartfelt than the admitted drivel Gortash would randomly lob his way.

Astarion smiles, sultry and playful, the vulnerability being hidden away for another time, another night.

“Oh darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

Markus smiles, his own playful deflections returning as he stands, barely remembering the wet robe that’s been soaking in the wash basin.

He presses his forehead to Astarion’s, a moment of unfettered affection and relief, warmth and understanding, those soft mushy feelings neither of them know how to articulate.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Markus nudges forward, just enough for the bridges of their noses to press against each other before standing entirely, tail swaying behind him in an exaggerated tease.