#and astarion is such a good bard. listen to me.

[flashhwing]

I love seeing everyone post screenshots of Astarion where he's wearing the drow armor in dark colors and then going to my own game where he's wearing the bard tunic in white. we are having fundamentally different experiences of this character

[deerdreams]

Since I finished up Page's game I keep thinking of an AU where her and Lunarae are in the same campaign and honestly it's a blast. You KNOW Lunarae would take one look at Page and her "I can fix her" instincts would immediately kick in.

Also in this AU Lunarae has lost her silver eye privileges bc only one of them can get the Volobotomy, and frankly she's much smarter than Page and therefore less likely to think it was a good idea. Meanwhile Page would be like "Screw it I'm desperate, why the hell not"

[awesomechocolatesauce]

"Y'all would really kick babies just so Astarion would approve."

Um...no? Do you realize you don't have to be pure evil to get him to like you?

I'm over here playing my bard as a chaotic good/neutral little shit and I gained his approval REAL fast in Act 1:

I screamed "BAAA" at the redcaps

Defended Karlach against Wyll, and then later Mizora

Told Kagha "I just wanted to see what would happen" after saving Arabella from her

Fed the Owlbear cub and later pet him

Shouted "Boo!" at Volo's singing

Threw dung in a goblin's face after he tried to get me to rub it on my face

Intimidated another goblin to kiss my foot after he tried to get me to do it to him

Refused to accept Raphael's help upon first meeting him

Let him bite me

Listened to him talk about Cazador and offered my support

Let the Laviatar worshipper beat me

And I did all of that before I even encountered the Gur monster hunter that's tracking him, found the necromancy book that I ended up giving to him, or started his romance. I didn't even do all of these before his approval was in the High range. Not once did I hurt an innocent person.

It's really not unheard of to follow the "good" path and still have him like you. Granted, he does call you "a bit naive in the ways of the world" later on in Act 2, but at that point, he still respects the hell out of you.

No doubt that there are some players who would do cruel things to get Astarion's approval early on, but not all of us.

[senualothbrok]

Enough

Summary: You agreed to help Astarion with the Rite of Profane Ascension, but you can't watch him go through with it. You interrupt the ritual, and Astarion turns on you. Now, you must deal with the aftermath of your actions.

Word count: 3.6k

Disclaimers: Non-18+. Astarion x female Tav. Angst. Trauma and recovery. A very angry Astarion.

AO3 link

This is the first fanfic I have written for about 20 years. I should be working on my novel, but this story honestly possessed me. I hope someone out there reads and enjoys this! If not, it was therapeutic and cathartic to write it.

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

You have heard it a thousand times. The tales and the histories, all the songs you have sung. You are a bard, after all, and this story is as old and worn as your heart. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

You know this, and you have seen it. You have seen it twist kind men into savages, transform wary women into beasts. Your own family had suffocated you under its clutches, leveraging your gifts and talents for ever more power and influence. Stripping you bare, squeezing out every drop they could get from you. You were their very own song bird, pushed about and paraded until your fingers were raw and throat was hoarse, to grant them entry into the best parties and social circles. But you were never enough. You never sang sweetly enough, or got large enough crowds. Not enough people knew you. You should have been prettier, more alluring. All the things they made you do, but you never did enough. It was never enough.

When you had escaped from them, you had vowed you would never be like them. You had promised yourself you would never become the thing you fought against. You would be different. Better. You would be good.

And yet.

You are standing in Cazador’s palace. Blood spatters the smooth ivory of Astarion’s skin. In the nightmarish hue of the ritual chamber, he glows a strange green. His crimson eyes are all fear and desperation.

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

In that moment, you cannot say no. If it were anyone else, you would refuse. There have been many conversations with Astarion - around the campfire, in his tent, even as you walked around the labyrinth of Cazador’s living hell. You have talked to him at length about this moment. You have listened as he has confessed guilt and need and hesitation and rage. You have been kind and patient, always careful not to criticise him, not to push back too much, not to hurt him. You have been good. He must make his own decision, you have been telling yourself. He has suffered enough.

So you open your mind to him, because he asks you to. You feel his frenzied hunger as he devours the sight of every scar on his back, as though their cruelty is now beauty. You watch his features which you have come to know so well. You have seen them in sleep, in battle, in laughter, in pain.  You have seen them shrouded and masked, bare and open. You watch now as they contort into something that you recognise from so many other faces and times. And as you watch, you can barely hear Cazador’s deafening screams, or register the way his mangled mess writhes and gushes. All you can see is Astarion’s widening smile as he carves at Cazador’s back, his eyes dilating like sinkholes.

You think it, even as he whisks away Cazador’s mutilated body like a rag doll. Even when Astarion slams the staff on the ground and everything around you blazes red as the blood of his convulsing siblings and the seven thousand spawn about to be slaughtered. Even when Gale and Karlach cry out at Astarion to stop, that this is a mistake, that the cost is too great. Even then, you think to yourself: this is what he wants. It is his choice. It is his right.

But in the scarlet haze, you are remembering. You are thinking of his trembling voice when he promised a broken husk called Sebastian, just moments ago, that he would free him. You think of the way his soft eyes glistened when he had thanked you and clasped your hand, stunned with the realisation that he was not just a thing to be used. You feel the crushing weight of Vellioth and Cazador and the decaying dungeons and centuries upon centuries of madness and terror. And you remember the tenderness with which he had looked at you, not days ago, believing the power of the ritual would keep you both safe. That he would protect you with it.

“I can feel their power flowing into me!”

You stare at him, spreadeagled, monstrous.

Something has begun to well inside you, like a cracking of ice, a convulsion of tears. In that whispering, you remember the promise you made yourself all those years ago.  And you know, from a deep and tattered place within you, that that promise is greater than your yearning for his love.

The blade springs from your hand on its own. You watch it sing through the air and hit its perfect note in Cazador’s maimed gut. Astarion and his siblings crumple to the floor. The crimson mist lifts, and in the silence you know, with the certainty of death, that you have lost him.

You say something, but you know it is meaningless. Nothing can repair the mistake you have made. You could have refused to help him when he asked. You could have reasoned with him, urged him to stop and think. You could have told him, from the start, that you could not go through with it. And now, you have kept your promise to yourself, but not to the man you love.

When he rises from his knees and turns to you, it is the face of a stranger that you see.

“I was so close. I could have had it all, but you took everything from me.”

Hatred hardens in his every word. And then, a tide of despair.

“Cazador won after all. I’ll never escape the hell he built.”

You cannot bear it. Your failure rips through you, and you want to reach out to him, to beg and plead and weep. But you just stand there.

He looks down at the staff in his hand.

“And if I can’t escape, then no one can.”

He splits the staff on his knee. It makes such a small sound as it splinters, but it echoes through you like an avalanche. It is the sound of seven thousand spawn being condemned to death. It is the sound of their eternal suffering. And it is all because of you. The horror and guilt erupts inside you.

It happens so fast after that. There is no time to think, to feel, to act. There is the glint of a dagger raised. You are knocked back, and a searing pain slices through your shoulder as you stare up at bared fangs looming over you. Your limbs are heavy with shock, and suddenly you feel a surge of heat and the great arc of Karlach’s war hammer over you. You hear Gale shout out a spell, and you watch as Astarion topples to the side, frozen except for the furious twitching of his eyes.

“Don’t!” you hear yourself shout. “Please, stop!”

Karlach and Gale rush to your side, cradling you up, fussing over your shoulder. But you do not feel it. You do not really feel anything. All you can do is look from them back to Astarion, pleading, but you are not sure what for.

---

“You can release his hold now.”

You are back at camp, and you have recovered your voice. For a long time, you could not speak. Shadowheart and Halsin tended to your arm, speaking soothing words over you. Gale and Karlach came to sit with you, their faces creased with concern. Wyll, Lae’zel and Jaheira stood at a distance, arguing in hushed voices. All the while, you stared into the distance, thinking of the hatred in Astarion’s gaze, and everything you had done to deserve it.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gale says, frowning.  

“We can’t keep him like that forever.”

“The man turned on us. He tried to kill you.”

You look into Gale’s eyes. There is warmth there, streaked with pity.

“Can you blame him?”

Gale scoffs. “Yes, I can.” Then he pauses. His voice softens. “Well, perhaps in the circumstances, in the heat of the moment…” He shakes his head. “But he truly would have killed you, had Karlach and I not intervened. And that is inexcusable, after everything you – all of us - have been through with him. After everything you have done for him.”

Your vision blurs and stings.

“I fucked up, Gale. How could I have fucked up so royally? I should never have let him start the ritual. I should never have agreed with it. I’ve broken him. Seven thousand innocent people will die in agony because of me. Because I was…”

You are not used to burdening others with your emotions. You give and not take, even when you have nothing. When you are nothing. But now, you are afraid that you will break.

“…Because I failed.”

Without hesitation, Gale lays a hand on yours. It is a such a kind gesture that it chokes you. You have always been the one to look after others, to give them what they need. That is your role. It is what you exist for. If you cannot do that, what are you good for?

��Those things were never your responsibility, my dear friend. They were never your burdens to carry.”

“But he trusted me.”

“That does not mean that you must give him everything, or watch him destroy thousands of people and himself.”

You ball your fists. “Then I should have told him that, from the start. But I went along with it-”

“Because you love him.”

You have not spoken about this with Gale or anyone else. You know it is common knowledge that you and Astarion are entangled, but you have always wanted to hide the love you feel for him away. You have always known that whatever it was that lay between you was fragile. Astarion himself was not sure what you were.

Attachment does not come easily to you. You know that if you give people what they need, there is a chance that they will stay. But there is also a chance that they will snap their heads one day and no longer want what you have to offer. And then, they will go.

You have always tried to guard yourself against the pain of that departure. Even with Astarion.

“Many a mistake has been made for love,” Gale continues. “I understand this better than most.”

“This is a monumental fuck up,” you breathe. “Not a simple mistake.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Do you really want to start a competition about the magnitude and impact of our mistakes? Because if so, I believe that I would be a clear winner, and some others in our camp may also be worthy competitors.”

You are too weary to laugh. Too broken.

“Besides, I am sure if we knock our considerably enriched heads together, we can find a way to open those dungeons and release those prisoners. Especially with such a range of talented and well-resourced allies to draw on.”

You can see the questions taking shape in Gale’s head already. You give him a weak smile.

“You are only human, my friend. I know you try to be better than any of us, but even you are permitted to make mistakes.”

When he clasps you tightly to his chest, you let yourself rest into it. You want so badly to believe he is right, but you are not sure you can.

---

As you approach Astarion, you gesture behind you. You know the rest of them are all watching, wary and ready to strike at the faintest sign of danger. But you stand them down, and they linger at a respectful distance.

Released from Gale’s hold, Astarion hunches over slightly, like a cat backed into a corner. He knows he is outnumbered and vulnerable. He does not lunge towards you. His arms lie flat against his sides, his hands free of weapons. His fangs are hidden behind the tight line of his lips.

“What you did to me is worse than staking me. You might as well finish me off now.”

Every word is a cut. You flinch at each one, but you do not avert your gaze from his. Any gentleness, affection, and truth in those eyes is gone, locked behind blood-red walls. And in his abject contempt, you find a kind of freedom.

If he has already left, then you need not please him. If you are not enough, then it does not matter what you say. You have lost him already. He does not love you.

So you say what you wish you had said, from the moment that he showed you who he was, the moment you fell in love with him.

“The ritual would have killed you, your siblings, and seven thousand innocents.”

“Spare me,” he snarls. “You nodded and cooed at me, like you understood me, like you would help me. ‘I’m here for you, Astarion. I’ll help you Astarion. Tell me what you need and I’ll be there, Astarion.’ You fucking liar. You godsdamned hypocrite. You never understood me. You never wanted to help me.”

His fury is like a lash, but the pain is sobering. You brace yourself against it.

“I never said I would help you become Cazador, or let you kill thousands of people for power.”

“Please.” His laugh is vicious. “I told you from the start what I wanted. If you didn’t see that, then you’re blind. Delusional. A self-righteous idiot, living in a fantasy.”

“You wanted to be free, Astarion. To be safe.”

“You never wanted me to be free,” he seethes. “You liked me weak and broken, so I could come to you on my knees, and you could nod and smile and promise to fix me. Your own personal project, kept on a leash like a little puppy. Cuddly, harmless Astarion, healing from his hurts, all thanks to you. My saviour.”

Behind you, you can hear voices erupting and subsiding, a scuffle of shifting feet. You are grateful when no one interjects or rushes forward. This is for you and Astarion alone. It is your punishment to bear, and his truth to hear.

“You took all that power away from me,” he hisses. “It wasn’t your choice to make. It was my decision. You’re worse than Cazador.”

The words wound you like arrows, but you half expect them. You have called yourself worse things.

“Cazador would have just compelled me not to do the ritual. But you gave me a taste of what I wanted, then ripped it away from me. You’re the cruellest bitch I’ve ever known.”

You do not care that hot tears stream down your cheeks, and that your voice trembles. You let yourself say what needs to be said, not what you think he wants to hear.

“You’re right.” You take a step towards him. “I should never have let you do it. I went along with it, when I should have pushed back. But I wanted you to feel you always had someone on your side. Someone who understood. I wanted you to feel loved.”

His disgust does not deter you anymore.

“You think that this is all you are. You can’t see beyond it. What was done to you. What he made you do to others. But it isn’t. It never was. You were always strong. You can be more than what happened to you. You are more than what happened to you.”

“Like you?” he sneers. “A hero? Someone so chained to other people’s approval that you’re lost without a saving mission? That’s what you so desperately want to see when you look at me, isn’t it?”

“No.” You are surprised by the strength of your voice. “Only someone who won’t let thousands of people suffer just because you did.”

Jolts of anger course through him. “You have no idea what I suffered,” he growls. “No idea what I am owed. If you had the faintest idea of it, if you truly loved me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would be burning the world with me.”

You have listened silently before, when he talked about this. What he deserves after two centuries of agony. His comeuppance. You did not challenge him because you were afraid. Afraid you would offend him. Terrified that he would leave.

“Look around you, Astarion,” you say now. “Look at everyone here. We have all suffered. No, none of us have suffered what you have suffered, and I am so deeply sorry for that. But Cazador is dead and no one else will have to suffer under him. And now, no one will have to suffer under an Ascended either.”

A snide sound of disbelief. “You are so full of bullshit I can hardly breathe from the stench.”

Your tadpole rages, ramming into his mind. You expect the resistance of loathing, but he does not fight. He allows you in. And for the first time, you show him. You let him see him your parents, and your pain, and everything that was done to you. You open yourself up, the masks you put on that you recognise in him, the performances you too are familiar with in the economy of survival. You show him your promise to yourself, and your choices, and the failures you carry around with you like a noose.

He glares at you after it is over, but you think there may be less hatred in his eyes than there was a moment before.

“Why did you show me that?”

It is easier, now that there is nothing to hide.

“Because if we all burned the world because of our suffering, there would be nothing left. And because you said you wanted something real.”

He seems backfooted that you mention it. His first moment of honesty. Your first moment of connection. The beginning of your love.

“This is real, Astarion.” Your gaze is a waterfall. You cannot stop it. “Real love, messy and painful, with a real person who makes mistakes and tells you things that you don’t want to hear. Someone who sees who you really are and who you can be, the worst and the best of you, and still loves you anyway.”

He steps back, his features clenched in spasm. You think of how his hands felt on your skin, cold as ice to the touch, yet warming you inside out like summer sunlight. You remember the lilt of his laughter as you traded jibes and jests under the furs of your tent on cold nights. You breathe in his scent on the air for the last time, those hints of bergamot, rosemary and brandy that you could recognise anywhere. You are already mourning their loss.

“Then I don’t want it,” he spits out. “And I don’t want you.”

And then he leaves.

---

You are alone. You are lying in a clearing a short walk away from camp. It is spring, and the smell of earth and grass hangs around you as the sun streaks through the trees above you. Your ears are drunk with birdsong.

It has been weeks since he left. You would be lying if you said you did not miss him. Sometimes you feel his absence like a presence. It haunts and stalks you, and when the darkness comes, you cling to your pillow in your tent and weep through waves of grief that surge through you like labour pains. But at other times, you find a kind of solace in your solitude. You are not shackled by a desperation for love from a man so broken he is not capable of giving it. You are not trapped by your own brokenness in this yearning, this ache to fill the holes in his heart. And this freedom is worth the pain.

When you had asked Astarion what he wanted, he had never known. And perhaps that had struck you so deeply because you had never known either. You had never truly known what you wanted, who you really were outside of what you could do for others. You thought you were only a thing to be used, a tool to fill someone else’s need, whatever that may be. You could be good at that. You needed to be good at that. If not, you were nothing.

But you are learning. Since he has left, you are learning that you are more than that. You are learning that you can live with your mistakes. That you are enough, just as you are.

You find that you sing now, even when there is no one around. Even when it is not for a performance, or for support in battle. You sing for yourself, and you take pleasure in it, even when your notes are off key and you cannot remember the right words, even when no one is there to praise you or reward you for it. For the first time, you are enjoying your gift for no other reason than that you wish to. It is a gift, and it comes without dread or shame or conditions.

You are humming softly as you stroll back to camp. Scratch greets you with a frenzied tail, and you roll around with him, kneeling as he plasters sloppy kisses all over your face. The simple joy of this dances over the cracks in your heart. When Scratch suddenly stops, you are almost disappointed. You glance in the direction where he has bounded, an ecstatic flurry of delight. Then your eyes catch on silver shining in the sun, two bright rubies on white silk. Your breath halts.

There he is. He is different, but the same. You look at each other. And in that moment, it is enough that there is no hatred in his eyes, which flicker with uncertainty. It is enough that his mouth is not curled into a sneer, and his brow is soft and even. It is enough that you have both survived. You have shown each other who you are, and you are still here.

He reaches his hand out to you, and you take it.

---

Liked this fic? You can find more of my work here.

[consistencynevermether]

Astarion x Rouge! Tav

A/N: I am, as the professionals would say, back on my bullshit. anyways here's another in my series of Astarion x a certain class 

part 1 (Paladin Tav version)- https://www.tumblr.com/consistencynevermether/730256251991310336/astarion-x-gn-paladin-reader-hcs-an-this-man?source=share

Bastard x bastard 

You two are absolute little SHITS together let me tell y’all that 

Your love language? CRIME. 

No but seriously imagine this- one of you had this plain steel ring, nothing special or anything just collecting dust at the bottom of your bags. Honestly, you don’t even remember which one of you it originally belonged to

When you first met, one of you had stolen the ring from the other to prove they were “superior with their hands” to the other. Eventually, it became a game between the two of you, every few days stealing this little trinket from each other. And bragging until the other stole it back. It didn’t matter whether either of you wore it on your fingers, around your necks, or even hiding it in folds of clothing. Neither could hold onto it for more than a week before the other snatched it up 

The most memorable little moment with this ring- once you had both gone on a late night walk, hand in hand. The moon's soft glow bathing you both in silver, it was like a scene out of a romance novel, especially when you leaned in to press your lips against his

And then- 

While he was distracted you slipped it off his finger and booked it. Immediately running as fast as you could, not daring to look back, laughing as you sped off with your prize

Unfortunately for you, Astarion happens to be a vampire spawn. Vampire spawn are quite physically inclined, and Astarion is pretty fit

What I’m saying is you made it a good 30 feet before getting tackled to the ground and had the ring wrestled out of your hand 

Honestly, though, you were laughing so hard you didn’t even mind losing the game, you were just happy that for a second your master plan had worked. 

Astarion complained about how his outfit got all dusty because of you, but you had heard him laughing right along with you when he had tackled you to the ground

Astarion won’t admit this, but that ring means more to him than any bejeweled precious jewelry ever could, because it connects him to you

Both of you claim to have the best set of knives and take every opportunity to show off to each other with your skills. Once you actually picked a lock with a smaller blade and you could swear it caused Astarion to be a little flustered. 

Sharing clothes? Sharing clothes. Listen, I'm just saying, will you let your vampire boyfriend burn up in the sun or will you lend him that nice new cloak you just got? Yea, that’s what I thought now it’s joint property. Dw tho it all evens out when you steal one of his nightshirts (it’s the comfiest thing ever, and not just because it always faintly smells like him) 

You guys definitely do couples' heists together. Sneaking, pickpocketing, lockpicking, running from the law, it's all in a day's work for the most shifty couple in Faerun. One of you might distract a lord while the other snuck into his vault to retrieve some valuable magical item. 

Ok but in all seriousness, y’all must be the most ethereal couple around. Imagine seeing two people glide over the rooftops of Baldur's gate, each jump almost like steps to a dance they both know by heart. Flitting around each other like ribbons in the breeze, one with soft silver hair and the other face obscured by their pitch-black cloak, hood pulled up and rippling in the night air. They dance across rooftops, swift as shadows, graceful as spirits, never touching, and yet somehow the rare onlooker knows they are meant to be a pair.

Some bard has definitely written a song about that last bullet point I promise you. 

You two probably had a million cons just waiting to be used. I imagine during your time together trying to get rid of the tadpole, you would both talk late into the night, bouncing ideas off each other, throwing out ideas of different tricks you could pull on the unsuspecting. Some genuinely clever, most just absurd attempts at making the other person laugh.  

If you ever actually got the chance to you it though? Oh ho HO. let me tell you how this went down. Your party had gotten into a situation, attempting to be as inconspicuous as possible. But by a bout of bad luck, someone had started harassing Karlach and at the same time, Lazel had started yelling at a guard, hand on her sword, inches away from striking. The party needed some sort of distraction, and luckily you both had just the thing. 

Astarion had grabbed the nearest glass of wine and splashed it on you, then putting on his best offended face he anguished, “How could you cheat on me?!?! And with my own BROTHER!?!?” That sentence made everyone's head snap up, including the guards as you both laid the theatrics on thick. You kept this act up with Astarion for a good 10 minutes, with fake tears and dramatics from both of you. At one point on the spot, you made up that he had slept with your mother and it was revenge, and the crowd was extremely invested, people taking sides, guards trying to calm down the chaos. But hey you're fake out worked, Karlach and Lazel were able to sneak away quietly and you had both given the distraction of a lifetime. Shadowheart disapproves.

Occasionally the two of you will talk in Thieves cant to each other when you don’t want the party to overhear certain conversations. Originally you were both probably talking about important things like strategies and debating about how to go about getting rid of the tadpole. But now you kind of both just use it to piss off Lazel a little. 

Ultimately you two really understand each other on a deep level, you really are 2 people with one mind. And together there's a world of adventure out there for you both, and infinite fun magical items for you both too “acquire”.

[dhampling]

˗ˏˋ i'm dal - she/‎‎‎her. 24. ˎˊ˗ astarion x reader content • 18+ only, minors dni! ‎‏‏‎ ꙳⊹ ﾟ⋆ • about me • ko-fi • ao3 • my caps • © BLOODSOEUR. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works.

butter gn!reader, 2.5k you and the vampire spend a short gloaming sun discussing marriage

both free gn!reader, 2.1k you reject bhaal’s greatest gift - to this, your horrified love bears witness

one mine, both yours bard gn!reader, 1.6k astarion’s habit of visiting your tent leads him to your hidden pile of sonnets

the shepherd, the black sheep gn!reader, 2k a plummet into a chasm leaves you and your light-fingered friend stuck. together, you wonder if you’ll ever emerge again.

sylvan gn!reader, 2.8k a chance series of encounters in youth come together on one night, where everything just clicks for Astarion and his unicorn.

the sunwalker's gift gn!reader, 3.3k you find a ring - after a lot of searching - that allows astarion to walk in the sun, and propose with it.

gush fem!reader, 2.2k (NSFW) it rains. you swindle some wine and astarion cums in his breeches.

oh, mother fem!reader, 3.3k (NSFW) it’s the mummy fic.

lifeblood fem!reader, 2.5k (NSFW) astarion discovers an aphrodisiac during a trip to the night market, and only one thing is on his mind.

ivory tower fem!reader x ascended!astarion, 4.6k (NSFW) you're still mortal, and there's good reason for it.

warming fem!reader 1.2k (NSFW) early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so.

swell fem!reader 1.9k (NSFW) feral pregnant sex with the elf. inspired by this NSFW piece by the ridiculously talented @mutualcombat.

leeches girl!dadstarion, <1k astarion and his daughter have a spat.

little love girl!dadstarion, <1k dadstarion watches dhampling sleep.

bramble jam girl!dadstarion, <1k “In what realm would we need this much jam?”

the gate girl!dadstarion, 1.5k astarion is a school-gate dilf on his first pick-up adventure with you.

sunburn girl!dadstarion, <1k dhampling gets sunburnt!

introducing the siblings girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I had this image in my mind of him introducing the older girls to their new baby sister each time and just being sweet and cute"

breakfast girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) astarion trying to make breakfast for the growing brood while tav/reader is like, "my love, you wanted this"

bump dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) astarion being a lil shit and causing more kicks talking to and touching tav's baby bump as tav tries to rest?

stretch marks dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) Imagine a tav who’s really insecure about these marks [...] and when they bring it up to astarion he decides the best course of action is to show them how much he loves them.

snuggles dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) when tav is pregnant astarion would love snuggling up to their baby bump - curling around them and listening for signs of their little one

shallow bites girl!dadstarion (inbox prompt) "I think it would be really funny if astarion and tav’s daughter was practicing her bites and pickpocketing on the two of them, respectively. [...] No ancunín is going to grow up being a half-rate pickpocket!"

hugs from behind dadstarion x reader (inbox prompt) "hugging the other from behind" from this list of prompts with astarion hugging his very tall, very pregnant wife from behind because I think the image of it is so cute.

tiefling tav showing affection via their tail tief!reader (inbox prompt)

valentine's day with astarion gn!reader (inbox prompt)

earthbound astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "how do you think astarion would handle a tav who is actually from earth and is going to return home after defeating the netherbrain?"

reunited astarion x earth!born reader (inbox prompt) "a follow-up to earth tav somehow reuniting with astarion, via reincarnation or another divine intervention"

patience gn!reader (inbox prompt) "hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" from the one-liners list"

baking gn!reader (inbox prompt) "ASTARION GETTING INTO BAKING AND ASKING YOU TO SAMPLE ALL OF HIS BAKES"

thulsun fem!reader, not tav! 3.7k (NSFW) under rework! astarion appears at your parlour one evening in a cloud of smoked bergamot and the briefest hint of spunk, and it becomes oh-so difficult to watch him leave.

three, minimum fem!reader, 4.3k (NSFW) astarion has been planning, for the first time in his life. He wants babies.

nought point five fem!reader, 4.7k (NSFW) seven months along, he’s besotted with every pregnant piece of you.

one fem!reader, 2k astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that’s it. that’s the plot.

one more fem!reader, 2.9k (NSFW) your home is quaint. astarion continues to insist it isn’t busy enough.

(astarion x fem!reader au, NSFW) he's a potwasher. you want to fuck the potwasher. this started as a joke and now i'm obsessed. enjoy.

one two

[garlicbreadbatstarion]

BG3 Companions Headcanons❤️

💨🌿🍃the party smoking🍃🌿💨

This mental image of the party passing a joint (or several) around a campfire makes me lol irl frequently so I thought I'd share some of my thoughts on here! 😁

Astarion:

Would 110% open up unintentionally and share things he probably wouldn't otherwise

But it would be one of those "yeah, but we all have trauma am I right?" And everyone would gentle parent him which would make him irritated (but secretly, deep down he would feel so supported 😭)

Also likes to vibe to music! Never is he kinder to a bard than when he is blazed lol

Also likes to burn candles/incense/simmer pots because he really loves a good fragrance

Gale:

Professor!Gale helloooooooo

He would naturally fall into a lecture about whatever exciting topic he's currently researching

"No really! It was previously believed they only grew in the underdark, but some researchers have found them in the wilds of Faerun! How are they reaching the surface?! It is fascinating!"

Would also get handsy with his romantic interest 😉 a little hand on the arm when he says something exciting. Putting his hand on your thigh and giving a squeeze before he gets up to stoke the fire. Ughhh this man.

Shadowheart:

I feel like she'd be gone

Like snapping fingers near he face bc she's not responding gonzo

She'd come back into focus once in a while to annihilate some snacks and then doze off again

Wyll would put a blanket over her, and, at the end of the evening, he'd carry her back to her tent🥺

She would pretend to be asleep, and Wyll would totally know she was faking it, but he would never tell a soul and he always cherished that moment in their friendship

Wyll:

Gets philosophical!

Really loves to listen to others and ask questions to keep them going

Def the mom friend that takes it easy to make sure everyone else is okay

Definitely a flirt! His inhibitions are just a tad lowered so he lays it on thickkk (to everyone, but especially so to his partner!)

Halsin:

Definitely wanders when he's high lol

You joke about putting a leash on him and he gets visibly excited

Loves to interact with nature (duh) like stargazing, wading through water, and lifting rocks and looking for creatures underneath

Likes to use his bear form and lay on his back with all 4 legs in the air

Lae'zel:

Idc what anyone else thinks Lae'zel would get the giggles

And everyone would be so shocked, most of all her, but then she'd think about how ridiculous it was and start giggling again! And everyone would join and the camp would get the giggles until everyone was out of breath clutching their stomachs

She'd also drop some funnyyyy one-liners just casually responding to other people

Also the only time she ever relaxes the tension in her body

Karlach:

Gets extra chatty!

Like she just extra loves everyone even more than normal and ends up having some really cute, heartfelt side conversations throughout the night

Also she gets extra clumsy and when she's animatedly telling a story she makes a big gesture with her arms and accidentally falls backwards off the log she's sitting on

Also loves to relight the j by holding it to her arm and it's a fun party trick she loves to pull out

[spacebarbarianweird]

Elven for Astarion fanfiction

I absolutely love the idea of Astarion using Elven words and phrases

Here are some useful phrases and words you can use for fics. I specifally chose what you might find useful, for more terms you can check the sources.

Source (wiki)

Source (dictionary)

Phrases

Ai armiel telere maenen hir. - You hold my heart forever.

Aillesel Seldarie - May the Seldarine Save Us.

Al Hond Ebrath, Uol Tath Shantar En Tath Lalala Ol Hond Ebrath – A True Friend, As The Trees And The Water Are True Friends.

Besthunit Nenle – ‘Hurry Up Slowly’ (Eastern Lythari Dialect)

Bwaelan Dro - "It's Good to be Alive", a religious hymn of celebration.

Chu Set – ‘Hold Calm/Calm Down’ (Eastern Lythari Dialect).

Dilit – Be Quiet (Eastern Lythari Dialect).

Es'Caerta – Deeply Emotional Plea Ending A Prayer (like Amen).

Gys Sa Salen – Give Me a Drink/I Need A Drink.

Maethe - maybe.

Ikwe - Get back!

Iorwe - Step aside!

Oloth elgg ssussun - Darkness slays light.

Seldarine! – Gods! (Expression of Exasperation).

Uluvathae (pronounced: /ˈuːluːˈvɔːθeɪ/ Oo-loo-VAW-thay) - "[May your] fortune bring you joy". An informal greeting or parting used amongst individuals which enjoyed each other's company. Used amongst close friends, it was either seen as an insult, or as a warning that a third party was listening.

Words

aethen - "others", modern elven slang for non-elves.

alun - transgender.

amastacia - star flower.

ar - sun.

arael – heart.

aravae - great joy.

ardavanshee – Elven Juvenile Delinquent.

arivae – sunlight.

a’sum -  daughter.

avae - joy.

avae’ess - joy bringer.

arkhlavae - lovemaking.

bhin - young human male (slang).

biir - "garbage", used as an insult against those of half-elven and human heritage.

calann - cup (one’s hands, to hold).

daoin – star.

damia - a term of endearment directed to sweethearts or children.

ebrath - friend.

essraul – enthusiastic Slaying.

e'sum – son.

etriel - noble female elf (in bloodline, character, or both).

evae - love, absence of malice.

filliken – open skirt (Prostitute).

hond ebrath - true friend(s)

immaea - familial love, loyalty to kin and family.

immeeira - act or demonstration of love (deed, testimonial or honour, not lovemaking).

ithlil - lily.

ivaebhin - boy filled with brightness.

kerym - blade (as in blade made of steel), sword.

liyan - homosexual male (slang).

lorkh - Savage Butchers who Lost Their Elven Nature Long Ago Through Such Behavior.

mor - darkness, the true death.

nanta - destiny.

nias – agreement.

nikym – dagger.

nor - love, passion.

N'Tel'Quess - "Not-people". A derogatory term elves use to describe non-elves.

o'si - mother.

o'su - father.

penaal - battlepoet (bard).

piir - treasure.

re - bear.

ru - dream.

rua - star.

saece - crossdresser.

savalir - murderer.

sha'Quessir - elf-friend.

Sildur - "at rest after changing". Referred to an animal, insect, or plant having reached maturity after passing through a life-cycle of changes. Was later borrowed by Common as a term for transgender individuals.

solicallor - warm light of the sun.

srendaen - beautiful, only applied to things of natural beauty not to people.

srinna - One Who Tests Limits and Establishes New Boundaries.

talibund - the veiled one. referring to the creature whose future is unclear and cannot be divined.

taran - gift.

Tel'Quessir - the collective name elves use for their race. translates into common to mean, "The People".

tham - to be close to.

thor - vow, promise.

vaarnar - evil entity or sentient being.

vaendaan-naes - reborn in life's bright struggles.

vaendin-thiil - fatigued by life's dark trials.

veluthe – beautiful.

vyshaan - power-mad (derogatory).

[thatfreshi]

Ok so... Idea for Astorian? What if the reader was some form of Flamenco dancer? Or something of the sorts, who acts like a bard, but instead of using an instrument they dance to perform magic. Not forced at all ofcorse!! I love the way you write him, it feels like you've nailed his character!

Uhm... if you guys want a part two... yeah. Let me know LMAO

TW - general horniness, reader is threatened at dagger-point

Recommended Song: Shirt - SZA

"Yeah, I just dance and then... magic."

The way Astarion first narrowed his eyes at you when you expressed that you couldn't really do anything else, he thought it was laughable.

"So you don't really fight, you just have fun while everyone else is actually doing things?"

"No, I have to actually be good at it! That's like saying you just open doors."

"Well that would be extremely rude because these hands do much more than open doors my dear."

You rolled your eyes, and he smirked. Now, this was before the two of you even slept together, let alone become an item. Over time Astarion has come to understand just how important of an asset you are to the group, but more specifically how he can't keep his eyes off of you on the battlefield. Whenever you can, the two of you find some time alone in the city to find you the most gorgeous flowy outfits, partially because they're easier to move in, but he also loves spoiling you, especially if he benefits from the view. He likes stitching little messages into the loose pieces of fabric, anything in between love notes and threats to people who have even thought about hurting you. The most recent one reads 'If the person wearing this is dead, you're next.'

Somehow, you and your rag-tag group have ended up being tasked with a group of bandits outside of Baldur's Gate. Does it have anything to do with the tadpoles or anything else important? No, of course not, but you have a hard time not helping people in need.

When you come across the group of bandits, it's apparent that they're not going to be a problem. While you're staking out their camp, Astarion comes behind you, whispering in your ear.

"If we make quick work of this, I'm sure we could find somewhere afterwards, for the two of us."

It sends a shiver up your spine, but you laugh it off, turning to look at him.

"You think you're funny, huh? Come on, we have work to do."

"Oh trust me, I know."

Maybe you should find a new way to cast magic, because it cannot be good for him to be horny mid-fight. Then again, it never seems to be a problem, so maybe it doesn't matter? Astarion certainly is an odd specimen, but you love him anyways.

"I am begging the two of you to stop flirting on the battlefield, please."

Gale pleads, wishing the two of you could keep it in your pants for once.

"Listen, once you find someone who completes your heart like Tav completes mine, you will understand. Until then, I'd stop complaining."

You nudge him and then whisper.

"Aster, you are talking to the guy who had sex with Mystra, and then became a literal bomb to try and win her approval."

"Damnit, I always forget about that! Fine, whatever. If Mystra were here, you would be just as lustful as I am, no matter the circumstances."

Gale grumbles to himself and walks off to the others, as Karlach prepares to make the first strike. She makes the signal, and you all take your positions. Astarion always insists on staying close to you, taking you with him on the flank if he has to. No one tries to argue, because he doesn't trust anyone else to keep you safe.

"Damnit, ambush!"

One of the bandits calls out, a tiefling. Gale casts grease, making their camp light up in flames from the campfire. Karlach strikes one of the bandits from behind, knocking them into the fire, effectively killing them. You don't realize though that one of the bandits had taken a trip to the forest to relieve himself, and he comes up behind you. Suddenly, you're swallowing fear with a dagger to your throat.

"Cease fire! Or the pretty one gets it."

As soon as the others look over in concern, the man's throat has been pierced, some of the blood splattering onto your face. Astarion drinks until your attacker hits the ground, the dagger falling out of a bloodless hand. You catch sight of Shadowheart, who is in close-quarters combat with a drow, and you turn to your lover.

"Come here!"

He doesn't ask questions, and he grabs your hands, spinning you out towards the fight as you send a fire bolt the drow's way. She falls quickly. Soon enough, Lae'zel finishes off the last of them, and Shadowheart casts water across the flames, making sure nothing else is burnt down. You try to catch your breath with the rest of the group, and you realize Wyll is injured, a gash across his shoulder. Normally Halsin or Shadowheart would deal with such a wound, but it's been a long day, and you're the only one with any healing magic left in you. With a few moves of your hips, you send out a healing ward, patching him up rather quickly.

"Thank you Tav."

Astarion comes to your side immediately after, almost as if he's jealous, wrapping an arm around your waist. As the others start going through the bandits' treasure, your lover wipes the blood off of your face.

"Surprised you didn't lick it off."

"I'm sure his blood was rancid, I much prefer yours."

If someone told you a year ago that someone saying they want to drink your blood was a turn-on, you would've laughed them all the way to Waterdeep. Now, you struggle to stand properly, holding your thighs together. He keeps his hand on your face, grip a little tenser than before.

"You need to be more careful when we're out there. I know these people were practically dead already, but some people won't try to trade you off like a token."

Normally you'd roll your eyes, tell him you obviously know that, but you just nod, and his thumb creeps over to your bottom lip.

"Astarion, we can't get this thing open!"

You're interrupted by a shout from Karlach, and Astarion kisses your cheek.

"I'll finish this later I suppose. Come my love, time to loot these insolent fools."

It's as if he set up the scenario perfectly, like he wanted the two of you to be interrupted. Hopefully he keeps his word.

[amethysts-tavern]

Forgive my typos or grammar. Writing this one on my phone rather than the laptop.

Gale x gender-neutral bard reader. Gale needs some reassurance.

———

I choose you.

Every night before bed, you make the circle around camp to check in with your companions - to see if they need additional healing or want to talk about anything, maybe tell them that they did well in the day’s adventure or recommend some battle tactics.

This night in particular, camp is pretty quiet. It was an extremely rough day. Half of the party went down entirely while you and Gale were the only two who remained standing by the end, likely from staying back from the melee where you could cast your spells without fear of being run through with a pike.

Karlach thanked you for finishing the fight and helping to revive her at the end. She had done the most damage to the enemy, but had also suffered the most.

“That fucker just would not die!” she exclaimed rehashing her last few swings to you. “I’m glad you were able to finish him off.”

“Lucky shot on a dissonant whisper,” you tell her. “Had he advanced on me and Gale, we would have been toast. Thank goodness Gale thought to cast sleet storm, essentially holding those cultists at bay.”

“Yeah, that was amazing! Well, I hope you get some good sleep tonight. We all deserve it,” Karlach says before turning in.

“G’night, Karlach. Good job today.”

You make your way over to where Astarion is standing outside of his tent, staring up at the clear sky. He takes in a big cleansing breath as you approach.

“Enjoying the evening, Astarion?”

“You know, the one thing about being a vampire that never gets old is seeing the stars every night. It’s like a big comforting blanket in the sky.”

“I won’t keep you then. Just wanted to say good job today.”

“I was great, wasn’t I? I spilled so much cultist blood on the ice. Let’s do it again tomorrow. Tell Gale to have that spell ready,” Astarion says with a twinkle in his eye.

You chuckle as you turn to move to Gale’s tent. You usually save his visit for last, sometimes staying the night with him in his tent. But he usually waits outside for you. Tonight, he’s not where you expect him.

You approach his tent slowly, listening hard to see if you can figure out why he didn’t wait for you, but the tent is quiet.

“Gale, are you there? Can I come in?” you ask in the voice reserved especially for him, softer and warmer than what you use with the others.

There’s no answer for a moment, but you do eventually hear a quiet, “you can come in.”

“Are you ok, love?” your concern apparent, as you enter Gale’s tent, only to see his back to you. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I’m… I’m fine,” he replies, leaving you convinced that he is entirely not fine. You step gently toward the wizard, trying to suss out what’s bothering him. You put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “What’s going on, hon? You know can tell me anything.”

There is silence for a moment and then he starts, “I’m not strong like Karlach. I’m not sneaky like Astarion. I couldn’t even help our friends when they fell,” he says just above a whisper. “I’m completely inadequate in battle. I don’t deserve to be in your party. I don’t deserve to be with you,” he hangs his head at the last part.

“What are you talking about? There’s a very good reason I choose to have you in my party every day. Your sleet storm was exactly what we needed in this battle! You slowed the enemies down so we didn’t have to deal with the entire mob at once! Without that quick thinking and spectacular ability, we would not have walked away with a victory.”

It was true. The giant mob of Absolutists would truly have done far more damage to your party if they advanced as a unit. But the moment they had to deal with a sheet of ice, they were sliding all over, not able to control their balance and landing on their backsides.

“And as for that last bit,” you say, wrapping your arms around the man that you love in a tight embrace, “I think I get to decide who is worthy of my affections. And I chose you. Brilliant, funny, loving you,” you punctuate the last sentence with kisses and nips at his neck. “And I will choose you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“But I could be so much more for you…” he starts.

You cross in front of him so that you can stare into his eyes. “Gale, I don’t want you to be anything else. I love you because of the man you are and how you make me feel. You are enough. In fact, you are everything I’ve ever wanted in a love. You are an honest and kind man. Your wit keeps me on my toes. You openly share your thoughts and feelings and listen to mine in return. I have never once doubted this relationship.”

You step in and give him another long, tender embrace. Your voice drops to a whisper, “And good gods! That thing you do with your tongue… it drives me wild!”

Finally, the corners of his mouth curl upward into a smile.

[goddness-lunafreya]

Astarion and Tav/Durge bard Headcanon

Astarion with a Tav(or Durge) bard always seemed good to me.

Imagine, Astarion listening to They having fun playing alone, and standing there nosily listening. And they wouldn't mind, after all, bards love receiving attention from an audience! Astarion would make comments and compliments, always talking about their beauty and talent.

Astarion would end up inspiring songs, increasingly romantic and full of passion. The vampire would certainly feel like an inspiring muse, flattered.

"Ah Darling... You play with so much desire! Do you have... anyone in mind?" He knew it was himself.

The dedications would only have names after nights of passion, where They would not be ashamed to say that they like the vampire. And Astarion would have his ego sky high when he heard the songs.

When he confessed (in act 2), They would respect his wishes not to have sex. And better yet, nights would pass without touching. Just chatting and, of course, enjoying some music. The songs would be less spicy, and more romantic, almost as if reflecting the first great teenage love.

In the end, no matter what, Astarion would love to have They, his beloved bard, by his side. Playing happy or sad music. Dedicated or not. It was beautiful to see his loved one having fun doing what they loves. And of course, Astarion appreciated their talent.

When all the fighting against the Absolute was over, Astarion would encourage They to pursue their dream of being bards. He would be there for every performance, small or large. He would try to get contacts, maybe even help with shows.

But at the end of the day, They would be there, playing soft music while Astarion relaxes on their shoulder. Sometimes, the sound of music speaks more words and means more than gestures and touches.

"This is a gift..." The passionate vampire thought whenever he found himself humming his beloved's songs.

Comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome. Feel free to support the artist with a follow or by asking. 🌙—Goddness Lunafreya.

[chthonic-mommy]

Imagine a Good Ending for Karlach

Larian hire me right now.

also my English is weak but I’m trying so please be kind I can’t REMAIN SILENT ANYMORE. it was a 3am unfiltered stream of consciousness written in language which isn’t my native.

So, the final battle. Karlach overheats. I don’t care how are they going to get rid of anything else - that’s not the topic. Then Tav (maybe with Gale’s help) uses extreme ice spell on Karlach, a few seconds before the end. This won’t let her die - but won’t let her live either. Tav just couldn’t tolerate the thought of Karlach dying. The battle ends. Everything’s over. Everyone is alive. But there is Tav - with swollen eyes, feeling like her own heart’s gonna explode instead of Karlach’s engine. And then there is The Body. Tav holds her head close to her chest, crying, but Karlach’s cold now, too cold. Gale tries to go talk with her, but both Astarion and Lae’zel ask him not to. Tav is overwhelmed and incredibly protective over The Body. She is a short and weak bard, but she will not let anyone touch Karlach, she’ll protect her like a mother lioness protects her cub.

She’ll take The Body home with her. Cold, with an ice crust on that place where soft light was coming from.

A year passed. Tav stayed in Baldurs Gate. Karlach’s dream was to help tiefling children who lost their parents. Karlach told Tav “All children should have proper housing. I didn’t have any opportunities when I was a child myself. It didn’t turn out good.”

So Tav opened a home school. She wasn’t as good with children as Karlach was, but she originated from aristocratic family, so she, as a woman of great knowledge, became a teacher for tiefling kids. They were stubborn at first and didn’t attend classes, but by time they started to listen. They began to help Tav with the garden, so they could eat stuff they grew together afterwards. Mattis remembered what Karlach told him - it’s easier to avoid battle and come out as winner out of any situation if you have a way with words. Mol was the last to stop leading her illegal lifestyle, influenced by others.

Tav taught them proper writing, counting, helped them with better clothing. She couldn’t give them everything - money won’t last forever. But she tried - tiefling kids had breakfast and dinner, they had a place to sleep, they were learning something.

Tav was numb. She stopped crying - work and children who needed her, all of that made her tougher. She was weak physically before - Karlach was always there for her to help. She remained weak, but could hardly afford that weakness now.

Three years have passed. Tav searched. Karlach’s body remained the same. There was a way to melt her heart, but she’ll die right after, Tav needed a way to melt her engine without damage, and a way to make it work. Gale told her one day “You need to move on, Tav, those children need you.” Tav answered him “She wanted to live more than any of us did. I’ll rip my own heart out, if needed. Help me or leave me alone.” She and Gale stopped talking for a year. Than he returned to her with loads of books and an apology.

Astarion didn’t like the whole idea of home school at first, but he still was coming to Tav as frequent as he could. He taught kids personal boundaries, cuz Tav didn’t want to be touched, so Astarion taught children that before a hug you need to ask first. Astarion never left Tav’s side, he supported her in her dream to bring Karlach back. He missed his barbarian friend too.

Five years have passed. Lae’zel and Shadowheart came to Tav’s place and brought their hatched gith child with them. Lae’zel also brought githyanki medicine, Shadowheart brought her prayers. Gale and Astarion came, bringing a fire artifact they’ve been searching for during the last year. Halsin and Will came, bringing their magic. Dammon was there as well. The whole group have got together again because everyone knew - if today’s stuff won’t work out, Tav will lose her life purpose. She needed their support.

It was the dark and cold night. Tav was nearly as cold as Karlach, tearless and calm. Gale started to dissolve the spell, the engine began to melt. Halsin was trying to support Karlach’s health, at least till the engine starts. And then everything went wrong. The engine started to heat like crazy, burning Karlach from inside, Dammon took his blacksmith tools and started to repair the engine right there. Tav took the fire artifact and put it into the engine. It burned through her gloves, it burned her hands heavily. Dammon took a step back.

Karlach’s body twisted in pain, she started to cough. She threw up. She coughed again, there was a black smoke, the smell of charcoal and burned flesh.

Everyone stood still, until Astarion ran for Karlach and hugged her tight.

“Damn, Fangs, I’m gonna vomit again…”

He looked nervous, his eyes twitched just like he was going to start crying, but he buried himself into that hug even more. Lae’zel came to them too, swearing, but hugged them with all her strength. Then was Halsin and his bear-like hugs. And Gale - who already started crying. Shadowheart and Will stood aside politely.

Karlach coughed uncontrollably, suffering from pain, laughed, not quite understanding what happened. For her it was just a moment - like she slept for a while. But everyone was different then she remembered. Gale had more wrinkles, Astarion never hugged her like this before, and Tav… looked like a pale imitation of herself. She stood silent, watching the hugs happening. Like she wasn’t there at all.

Everyone moved away, leaving Karlach sitting on the floor, still coughing but not that bad. Tav stayed on her place. She was afraid to believe it.

“Love…” Karlach started, and Tav whimpered, her heart skipped a beat. “…What’s with your hands? Did I burn you?”

Tav came closer, with tears dropping on the floor, breathing fast, looking like she’s gonna either have an anxiety attack or faint.

“Tav?” That’s was enough for her to burst out crying. She rushed into Karlach’s arms, crying like a baby, shivering.

Karlach’s started to kiss Tav’s face, trying to calm her down, caressed her hair. She worried so much and her engine was still unstable - it started heating again. Tav kissed her lips and felt them burning, like it was their first kiss.

“We need to stop, Tav, something’s wrong.”

“I’ll never stop! Karlach I missed you so fucking much! You were here, your body, cold and silent, I could touch you but there was no YOU in there! For five fucking years! I’ll rather burn myself than hold back now.”

Karlach looked at her in shock.

“Five years? How… How did you?..”

“I needed you to live. I did what I could.”

“That’s why your hands are burned?”

“That’s a small price.”

Karlach pulled her close, while her engine calmed down a little.

“And you waited for me for five years…unable to reach me… just like I waited to touch you… when we just met… it’s all crazy.”

“I was afraid I’d lose you. I’d die too.”

“Love…”

“Don’t tell me anything. It’s easy to get used to good things. When you lose them - you may never recover.”

Karlach kissed her again, kissed her burned lips, kissed her forehead, kissed the tears traces on her cheeks.

“We’ll talk about it later… I’m here, love, I’m here…”

That was the first night after the final battle which they spent happy, together. Tav was crying over and over, snuggling to Karlach and holding her hand tight, like she’ll disappear at any moment.

The next morning Karlach found out about kids. Most kids who she remembered were nearly young adults now. Mol and Mattis came early to help Tav with her house chores and ran to Karlach’s arms like they were her own kids.

“Karlach, we thought you dead!”

“Yeah, we thought mama Tav lied to us so we wouldn’t be sad about you!”

And Karlach hugged them close, but then pushed away to ask a question.

“Mama Tav?”

“Yeah, everyone calls her mom, it’s easier to explain and to remember.”

“She adopted EVERY child here?”

“Not really, but we’re still hers, I guess. She helped us all this years.”

They told Karlach about their jobs, about little ones who came when Karlach was already “away”. When little ones, those who stayed at Tav’s place, woke up, they rushed to see what’s happening and why this place is so crowded.

Mol said: “Listen here, little bastards, THAT’S Karlach we told you stories about! She finally came back!”

And then there were lots of “wow”, “she’s as tall as I thought!”, “the light from her chest is real, see?” and “are you mama Tav’s wife? she wouldn’t tell us”. Karlach was delighted.

She got to meet Lae’zel’s and Shadowheart’s baby gith, and couldn’t get enough of him.

She and Tav made use of every free minute to speak. Tav started to bloom like she used to - colors came back to her. They kissed again and again to the point when Astarion started to joke dirty about putting Karlach back to sleep.

When Karlach asked Dammon, how’s her engine, he told her he doesn’t know how long will it last. They didn’t know anything at all.

Lae’zel always asked Tav before, why does she read so much, isn’t she already one of the smartest women in Faerun?

Tav always answered that the main point of learning is that you never stop. Science has no answers, you learn and then you understand that you know nothing and then you learn again. And that’s an endless path, you’re never stagnated. Lae’zel was fascinated by that.

Tav answered Karlach’s question about her engine just as expected.

“If it breaks, we’ll find a way to heal you again. And again. That’s the never-ending path of knowledge…”

“Knew you’ll say that.”

“So why did you ask then?”

“Just wanted to hear it aloud. It’s strange to know… that now I’m finally free. What should I do, Tav?”

“You can start at helping me with our homeschooled gang. I’m slowly getting burnt out. Mal and Mattis are helpful, but I can’t trust them with everything and they don’t have to be here all the time.”

“Understood…” Karlach stopped thinking about her future after Dammon for the first time told her that her engine can’t be entirely fixed. She couldn’t imagine someone going this far to bring her back. But Tav did it.

Karlach was free. Finally free of Avernus, free of her past, nearly free of death (Tav made her believe in that). She was surrounded by children and her friends were all here to welcome her back. Tav was here - with her hands and lips burned and painful, but refusing to leave her no matter what. Sweet Tav, who seemed so little in comparison to Karlach. Her savior.

“Gods,” Karlach smiled bright. ”Love, it feels so good to be alive.”

[nerdalmighty]

BG3 Tag Game!

I was tagged by @khywren!!! Thank you!!!!!!

I'm going to tag @vanilkaplays @okthisway @maladaptive-menace @riddlerosehearts @starkspi and anyone else who wants to play along!

Favorite romance: It will surprise no one to know that it's Astarion. I find his backstory so incredibly interesting and I love his dumbass personality. At the end of the day, he just wants to do whatever is the most hilarious and I adore that. I especially love how soft he gets when you get together in Act 2. I could go on and on but I'll never be able to fully articulate my love for him.

Favorite class to play: Bard! I love that they're really the jack of all trades and are pretty good at everything, including spells and sword fighting. Persuasion and deception are SO helpful in this game, plus playing music to distract crowds and cause shenanigans in Baldur's Gate is wonderful.

Favorite NPC: I think Raphael. While yeah he absolutely SUCKS, I'm obsessed with his obsession with his own voice. He's a thespian, he's a freak, he's an idiot. I love it. But yes, I did kill his ass.

Favorite song off the soundtrack: Probably the Harpy Song. I listen to it a lot in my spare time, especially when I'm working on a specific fic I'm attempting to write. I'm a big fan of haunting melodies and, unsurprisingly, the concept of hypnotizing music.

Tell us a little about your Tav: I wrote a pretty long post about her here, but my Tav is named Birdie and she's a bard who was born and raised at the Water Queen's House. Previous iterations of her had her as a siren (hence the deep love of the Harpy Song), but I'm still not 100% sure if this version of her is. Basically, she's a mermaid ass goof whose main gang of idiots include Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart. Chaos often ensues.

Something you wish was in the game: I know this game is huge. I know there's probably stuff people haven't even discovered yet. But god would I love some more camp animations. More interactions between the companions AT camp. Cut scenes where there should probably be cut scenes (The second time Astarion drinks your blood, Wyll celebrating the defeat of Ansur, etc). I really really love this game, but I'd love to hang out with my friends EVEN MORE.

Do you create fanworks? Share something with us: Oh boy I'm TRYING. I've never really written fanfiction before but the stupid vampire has inspired me to do so. I'm in the process of writing two different fics (one multi-chapter, one one-shot on the longer side) and am having a blast but I'm not sure if/when I'll post them. I've noticed my writing style is very similar to the way I write scripts, which is what I went to college for, so they're full of dialogue and quick, dumb banter. It might not be for everyone, but I'm having The Most Fun! Let me know if you'd maybe want to see more? Here's a silly excerpt from the one-shot (she may or may not get smutty later on 👀):

There was no sign of the vampire, save for an open hatch beneath the stone of the tower leading into what you presumed was a cellar of sorts. Off to the side was a discarded set of Thieves’ Tools. Yup, that’ll be him.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you began to descend into the basement below. 

Before you could even make it to the bottom, however, you heard Astarion’s voice tinged with annoyance. “Don’t bother, darling. I was just coming back up.”

You paused on the ladder and looked down at him. “That bad?”

“Eh, a few coins, some food. Nothing worth risking one’s life over. Foolish gnome.”

“Shame,” you pouted down at him, not an ounce of real sympathy behind the word.

He smirked as he met your eye. “Go,” he said, indicating you should climb back up the ladder. “There was a rather large amount of smoke powder though. That could be fun.”

When you emerged back into the early evening air, you turned to help Astarion out. “Maybe you can blow up a quaint little gnomish village.”

Astarion’s eyes glittered with delight. “Oh, do you think there’s one around here? That would be- Oh. You’re joking.”

You nodded.

“Gods, you’re no fun.” He sighed dramatically and then started back towards the Blighted Village proper. 

You scoffed in mock offense. “I’m a lot of fun!”

Astarion tsked. “If you have to say you’re a lot of fun, odds are, you’re lying to yourself.” He shot a challenging half smile at you from over his shoulder.

“How dare you,” you laughed.

“Such a pity, too,” he went on. “Aren’t bards supposed to be entertaining?”

You made a sound of agony, which had Astarion fully turning back to look at you. You threw a hand to your heart and staggered towards him. “You wound me, Astarion. Look upon me with pity and remember me fondly!” You set an arm on his shoulder and let your body weight go, as if collapsing from a killing blow. 

Astarion was quick to catch you under your arms. He made a show of groaning about how heavy you were now that your body had gone completely limp. After you’d hung loosely from his grip for a few seconds, he finally yielded. “Alright, enough.” 

You resumed control of your body and stood up straight, a smug look on your face. “I’m fun.”

“Dramatic.”

“Theatrical.”

“Annoying.”

“Endearing.”

“Loud.”

“Enthusiastic-”

Just then, a loud howl came from a barn a little ways off. 

You and Astarion eyed each other.

“Was that you?” Astarion asked.

“‘Was that me?!’ I’m not THAT loud.”

“Could have fooled me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on.” You started in a light jog towards the barn.

Astarion groaned. “You can’t be serious.” He caught up with you easily. “Haven’t we done enough heroing for today?”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “One more act of heroism probably won’t kill you.”

“It might!”

“Oh, now who’s being dramatic?” You came to a stop at the double doors.

“I-” Astarion floundered, then pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

“That’s what I thought.”

[nyrandrea]

Don't mind me, just sharing some silly little idea that I need to scream into the void because this game has me in an absolute choke hold atm

But I'd like to imagine Tav having this happy-go-lucky, positive, always willing to help others attitude because they were basically forced into this position from the very start.

From the moment they escape the Nautiloid ship, there are these complete (and slightly unhinged) strangers that are relying on them to help. To lead them and make these huge decisions that affects each and every one of their lives that are suddenly dependant on one, very unlucky Tav. Not only with the tadpoles but like, their personal issues.

And the more they travel, the deeper into those issues they delve.

Tav will talk to them, listen to them, aid them in any way possible. Because that's what a good person does, right? And Tav does begin to genuinely care about everyone in the party. Even the more snarky and trigger-happy members.

But the deeper into those issues they delve, the more Tav's resolve begins to crack.

Astarion's daily feeds starts to weaken them physically, Gale's magic consumption makes them weary, Shadowheart and Lae'zel's bickering starts to test Tav's patience, Karlach's need for infernal iron begins to grate on them. Just. All of these people keep taking and taking.

They actually have no idea what they're doing. What path to take. What words to say. They're confused. They're terrified. They barely know how to survive on their own. All they want to do is run away from the sudden weight of these responsibilities and then...

They crack.

Something insignificant sets them off. Like someone forgetting to feed Scratch, or someone accidentally breaks their instrument (if they're a bard), or hell, someone just looks at them funny.

Now who do you think would be the first to see Tav break?

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Raphael makes an unwelcomed appearance and Tav spends time with Astarion.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 5: Devils

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 5.2k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Language, Violence, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Devils are not to be trusted. There is always a price to pay if you accept their offer of aid. With brimstone and lies they feed. When all faith in dreams is lost is when they appear. The temptation of contracts because of tumbling stones. Ah, but this isn’t only about our fiery constituents in hell. Man can also be the devil you never wanted to know.

— Wyll Ravengard, journal entry 666

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

She was to blame.

In the second year of their relationship, when Tav resolutely disagreed with Algos over a few subjects of discussion, he punched one of the wooden shelves hanging in their cottage.

The apologies spilled, but it was too late.

I hate myself. I have nothing to offer him. He’s better off without me. If only I had better reactions to him.

As she cried and asked him to please stop, he told her to ‘shut up’ and threw a figurine her father gifted her at the wall.

While she was huddled over, shaking with sobs, silently picking up the broken pieces of ceramic, he yelled at her for being selfish. He exclaimed that his opinions and declarations of love he showed her weren't important enough to her.

He’s right. He’s right. He’s right.

In the evening, Tav prayed to the revolving constellations in the sky wishing she could be someone else. To be pleasant and lovely always. That her negative qualities be erased, so she would no longer cause anymore pain to those she loved. She begged and pleaded to the listless stars until Algos placed a hand on her shoulder and coaxed her to bed.

That night, as he entered her to the hilt—telling her how good she felt wrapped around his cock—she held onto him closely, moaning his name loudly, grateful that he still wanted to be with someone like her.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“The mouse smiled brightly; it outfoxed the cat! Then down came the claw, and that, love, was that,” Raphael smirked slyly as he mimicked a claw with his hand. “They do know how to write them in Cormyr, don’t they? I’m sure you’re familiar with some of their writings, aren’t you bard of Deepingdale?”

“And which are you? The cat or the mouse?” Tav inquired cautiously.

She noticed Raphael spoke in sonnets: euphemisms laced within the speech of his gentlemanly demeanor. He was all outwardly middle-aged extravagance, with a lullaby for his voice, wrapped tautly over the cambion he hid. “Neither. I’m the fox, a silent observer—if you will. Always listening, ready to break the silence with a pounce. Shall we speak somewhere more private?”

The companions were instantly whisked away to a lavish room, eerily prepared for their arrival. A large table sat with a feast that would typically suit the upper crust of Baldur’s Gate. Pigs heads, roasted chicken, and smoked venison was spread in various spots throughout. In the middle, there was a tier of platters: figgy pudding, beignets, tarts, and freshly baked rolls.

With a courteous bow and arms wide open, Raphael greeted the group cordially. “Welcome to my House of Hope. Please, indulge yourselves with an invigorating meal. What kind of host would I be, after all, to not offer such luxuries to those I have personally brought to my abode?”

Tav could smell a foul scent in the air, covered suspiciously by the fragrance of the banquet. Sulfur. Ashes. Singed hair. The heaviness of discord.

Raphael was already regaling himself as their savior. He wanted to give them hope, to provide another way for the removal of their tadpoles. And the price? Well, he was withholding such a disclosure until the moment was ripe. A contract forged in blood and the licking flames of Avernus—something to mull over.

Then, a flash and his appearance was changed! Standing taller, red, and winged, he transformed into a devil. His eyes were fit for their environment with an unsettling flame set in black pools, but they did not change the seductive entreaty that bored into each of their minds. A devil they now know.

Through the Devil’s jargon, you’re offered a golden brain through a Faustian bargain.

“Tell me bard, how beautifully do you think you’ll sing once your skin rends and your lamprey teeth craves the brain?”

Tav stepped forward, a quiet anger in her eyes. She cannot ignore that his proposition seemed to exhibit the fullest amount of truth they’d come across thus far, but where Raphael’s deceit lay was in the way he presented ”hope”. How he had managed to twist it into one of perversion, could dazzle even the most gods-fearing of men. His game was wicked, with a promise to quench the parch they have yet to answer.

She was aware of the folly they may face. Should any of them decide to want the feel of his jagged onyx nails scratching pleasurably down their sides, the cost will most likely be what they are least ready to part with—possibly more than that.

“Ah, and let us not forget the worshiper of the Lady of Loss herself! Do you think your dark goddess will save you when you are writhing in pain on the ground as tentacles sprout from your head begging for release?” Raphael clicked his tongue in what could only be described as blight amusement to Shadowheart.

The cleric’s fists clenched at her sides as she stepped towards the devil. ”Bite your tongue about my Lady you…” Tav held out her arm to the side, abruptly stopping Shadowheart in her tracks. Her head shook in a subtle no.

Raphael chuckled. “Such a formidable leader you have found to silence you with a mere gesture of her head. Though, let us move on, hmm?” His field of fiery vision landed on Wyll. “Yes. The one in an infernal pact with a fellow member of my race. Where once you had a choice on what to do with your soul, becoming an illithid will surely blot out the worry of the decision.”

Wyll remained silent. Like the others, the warlock had ordained himself to withhold his past. Tav had the notion the topic could be a sensitive breach, but she didn't want to push him about information concerning his pact with the nine hells fiend.

Everyone in their crew were eccentric misfits with lives that were uprooted by the mind flayers. For better or worse they all shared the knowledge that the monsters entrenched in the marrow of their bones, would have to either be bathed clean or drenched in blood with malevolence.

But, then the enigmatic cambion set his sights on Astarion. His grin was wide, teeth sharp, a taste of brimstone nectar thick in his timbre.

The songbird’s body suddenly became rigid. Her and Astarion hadn’t been on speaking terms for a couple of days—that much was apparent during their excursions to scout the outer regions of the Goblin Camp. His cantankerous attitude left her without a proper apology from their exchange at the Grove, instead relying on his usual quips of skepticism about the mandates of their journey to the whole of their camp. She oft felt his brooding pierce her back, until she would turn to him and his narrowed scarlet eyes would refocus on a random subject. However, her heart sped up considerably knowing Raphael meant to spell despair for the vampire to hear. The desperation to connect with Astarion’s tadpole was profound.

Holding her fingers against her temple, she tried to enter his mind. Protect him. Protect him. Protect him, Tav recited.

It was a fruitless effort. As they connected, the force of his worm severed it. She tried to weave her way through several more times, beads of sweat on her forehead, but she was pushed out harshly with a sharp pain of warning in her frontal lobe.

“And you, young beautiful vampling. So very far from the bonds of your master. While you may lose the powers you’ve gained with the worm should it be removed, if it were to remain as an inhabitant, I wonder as you lose the control of your body that has recently been gifted to you—with the slithering of mucus and the fading of your mind—if one of your last thoughts will be memories from inside the dungeon he so graciously kept you," Raphael sing-songed.

Tav decried the horror on Astarion’s face as the missive from the devil’s maw was discharged among the liturgy of his halls. The threads around her heart split as it ached for him. There was a deepened torture that ran as a black river inside him that he had been continuously drowning in and she beheld only one of the thousands of quills—that had entered his soul one millimeter per second—the night he allowed her to see a vision of his involuntary dinner of squealing rats. And Raphael was perceptive enough to be his redeemer, dipping his hands into the icy flow with deliverance for him.

She flinched combatively, leaning forward with her jaw thrust forward ready to hiss. “That’s enough Raphael; return us immediately!”

The devil bore a scheming grin as he glimpsed back and forth between Tav and Astarion, as if he just discovered a precious artifact that he could fortuitously collect.

With forked tongues slick in worship at their feet, the payment could be steep for pleasures above. For what is the most expensive thing to part with, if not the promise of love.

“I’ll be there when your luck runs out. May hope ever find you when you require it most.”

And with a snap of his fingers, they were returned.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Karlach was a breath of fresh air.

As an impassioned barbarian with an unmatchable gratitude for her life after cheating her imprisonment from the archdevil, Zariel, she still remained brazenly good humored.

“You have a dog?! Gods, I haven’t seen a fucking dog in ages—10 years at least! Wish to hells I could scruff ya, but here!” Karlach loudly aired, cheerfully throwing the mutt’s ball.

“We found him starving near his deceased master. Scratch has been a welcome addition to our quaint family ever since," Tav laughed as the dog came trotting back to them, ball in his mouth, proud of his achievement. She squatted down to pet him, placing a kiss on his furry head.

“Aww! You’re one of the good ones, aren’t you? I can tell. I may not be able to touch him, but it does my ole ticker a hearth of warmth knowing I’ve come across you lot.”

Tav ruffed his fur a final time before throwing his ball once more. She peered up into the tiefling’s face, watching as the infernal lights glowed on and off. “You can't touch anyone?”

Karlach sighed mournfully. “Part of Zariel’s fucked up experiments. Infernal engine or ‘The Hellion’s Heart’ where my blood pumper should be. I burn hot—always. Let me tell you how bored I’ve gotten using my hands to take care of myself, soldier! I mean, sure, I have fun if I conjure up a fantasy of me riding a beautiful person until I see stars, but gods, I’d settle for a hug at this point!”

Tav stood, shielding beams of the setting sun with her hand as a visor over her brows. She found herself casting a pensive look in the direction of Astarion’s tent. He hadn’t been present since they returned from Raphael’s intrusion.

Why had she gone through such lengths to try and shield him earlier? She didn’t even lift a finger for the others when the devil laid bare the raw meat of their inner selves. But, when it came to this pale man, she felt compelled to battle for him. To keep him by her side when there was no light in the claret swirl of his eyes, wrapping her hands around his head to blind him from all that would try to desecrate him.

Karlach smirked. “He’ll be back. Something tells me he needs us—even though that toff would hate to admit it. I know I’m the greenhorn of our company, but Astarion lives behind a handsome face of pain. It’s similar to how I looked being in Zariel’s clutches. I’d know that hallmark anywhere.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

The fragrance of lavender and vanilla seeped diligently into the hollow of her décolletage and the sanctity of her pulse points.

It had been the first time in over a week—since the crash—that she felt like herself as she fit a long linen skirt around her waist. She paired it with an off the shoulder chemise that ended halfway down her elbows, revealing all of the stunning ink work on her left arm. Then, she laced up a navy blue corset bodice over her torso, giving a tantalizing view of the top heap of her bosom. With the final accessory of a black velvet ribbon tied into a bow around her neck, she picked up her lute—donated to her by Alfira—and promenaded confidently out of her tent. Tav exhaled blissfully. It was remarkable just how a simple bar of soap and a washcloth could mollify the rifts of her plights.

Her companions had long settled for the night. Wyll and Karlach were exchanging tales of the Blood War by his tent as they sipped from oversized cups of wine. Shadowheart was offering prayers to her goddess, pleading to steadfastly stick to her mission. Lae’zel stood in front of their local grinding stone, sharpening the blade of her longsword in silence. Finally, Gale was fiddling with a mirror image duplication spell that summoned illusionary doppelgängers.

Ah, but then there was him—the vampire still estranged from their camp. She wondered where he ventured off to, if he would return to them soon. The phantom noise of his voice and laughter rooted itself in her mind and she grinned. She envisioned him biting down on the neck of another and then she frowned.

Still, this man was no hero. Far from it. He was the seductive dastard that placed fingertips against his lips to kiss while pickpocketing their purses. He was the exact type of man that holy temples would lock their doors around. With his tongue so derisive and his touch a tender elegy, Astarion was the nephilim of fanged little deaths.

Hells, did she miss him? She felt a troubled heat within her chest at the mere thought of crawling to him, touching his palms, offering a truce betwixt them.

Tav heard a long howl of a whistle. “Fucking hells, soldier. You didn’t tell us how well you could clean up!”

Her skin flushed into the deepest shade of red as she performed her signature bow that resembled the outstretched wings of a bird.

The entirety of the camp gaped at her as Karlach whistled again with a slow clap of her strong hands. Compliments on her radiance or questions of her plans for the night circled around the flock all at once, but Tav only flashed a beguiling smile in silence.

“If you’ll excuse me, I am going to take a walk along the river while the moon is still high.” She regarded them with a downward stroke on the strings of her lute and headed towards the sound of the currents.

Tav’s feet carried her on the warm dark earth with a predestination in mind towards the weeping tree she saw midday, branches sweeping in the water, slender leaves dancing wrinkles on the surface. When she reached it, her throat widened like the peaceful openness in a forest clearing. She cadenced her fingers to pluck at her instrument as she breathed in, belting out an innocent tune of yearning.

♫ The moon’s streams wandered into my eyes, Leading me to you, But from the dusk of your soul, I can hear your heartbeat.

I’ll stay here with you, In this starry canopy of twilight, Because darkness can bring unholy things, But the sharpness of our blades will shine.

And I’ll sing to you, Telling you about the sun and orchards, Because lover, we can bury our pasts in the ground, And embrace in the beam of the lune as we restart.♫

There was complete silence as she ended her tune. Mirages of lights reflected off the waterfront as Tav sighed longingly, allowing herself a few moments to fondly think about the vampire that managed to capture her attentions. After all this time, someone like him was the one prying open the rusted chambers of her heart. It bothered her immensely and she wanted to drown the first niggling movements of butterflies crawling out of their cocoons in her stomach.

But, then an interruption of parchment pages turning in a book distracted her.

She peered around the large trunk of the tree, her fingers holding onto the bark. “As— Astarion?”

Astarion lounged against the tree, reading one of the many books he tended to during the more subdued moments of their voyage. The silver of the moon illuminated his curls, much like fallen stardust.

“Evening, darling.”

The bard rounded the rest of her body around the tree, trying to stop her smile from growing wider. She was supposed to still be upset with him—after all. “You’ve been here the entire time?”

“Ohh, something like that! And what about you dearest, songbird? Did you come out here to sing especially for me or to form your own search party because you missed my striking..." he trailed off as he tilted his head upwards, examining Tav with novel attention to her appearance.

She caught his eyes lining her curves up and down. “Now which poor bastard did you save in my absence that paid you in clothes?" he asked.

Tav playfully snarked. “None! In fact, I sold some of those ornate pillows you have insisted on carrying around for your splendid arse to sit upon.”

He unceremoniously shut his book, staring wide in feigned shock. “What?! You wouldn’t dare!”

Tav nodded her head quickly. “Fetched quite a bit of coin too! I even managed to buy a whole new wardrobe for Karlach before it suddenly burned to a crisp from her excitement.”

And then Astarion chuckled. Fangs glinting in the light with a bellowing hearty rumble from his chest she couldn’t stop herself but to admire. As it tapered off, he tucked the tome underneath his armpit.

His expression was abruptly strained. “Back at camp, when we were leaving the grove, I—you’re a wretch, you know that?”

Tav was initially confused by his sudden change in demeanor, but then realized he was referring to their recent spat and was trying to express regret. Ignoring her better judgement—and the undefined hold her had over her—she decided to forgive him.

She propped the lute against the tree and stood tall with her hands on her hips, a tease trickling in her voice. “And you’re a scoundrel.”

He attempted to snicker despite the subtle underlying concern in his tone. “One of my many lovable qualities, my dear.”

A few sleepy minutes passed between them—the only noises being the stream and a solemn breeze. Tav noticed he was struggling to speak. There seemed to be a lot he had reflected on since they last saw one another. She had half a mind to inquire about the use of their worms to ease him, but there was a recognition that he probably needed to use his voice. The elf wondered when was the last time Astarion was able to speak so freely without consequences floating over his head like a hailstorm.

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “That devil, Raphael, he has a plan for us. If we’re not careful, we’ll collapse along with the bridge we stand on. He’s toying with us, knocking on our door as if we are important patriars.” His eyes were dilated. Serious. “My old master, Cazador, enjoyed toying with people too. Let them think there was hope until he snatched it away at the last moment.”

“Your old master? You know you don’t have to tell me about him if you don’t want to,” she replied with an equally serious low inflection.

He was suddenly defensive. “I don’t want to say a damned thing, but it won’t help anyone, especially me.” Then, he calmed himself enough to explain. “Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord and patriarch of his coven in Baldur’s Gate. He’s a monster obsessed with power. Power over people—to control them completely. Nearly two hundred years ago, I became his slave, a spawn, and he became my tormenter.”

Tav was revulsed. She glowered inwardly thinking about what kind of torture Astarion may have encountered unwillingly. “He attacked you to turn you then?”

“No. A gang of thugs beat me up, angry about a ruling I handed down as magistrate. As I wavered between death’s door and the life that was fading out of my grasp—Cazador appeared. It wasn’t until later I realized how long ‘eternal life’ could actually be.”

Astarion’s hand waved showily in the air, his voice lifting like a dramatization of a play. “Ah, and the little ritual he played. I would bring him back the most beautiful of souls and he would ask if I wanted to dine with him. If I said yes, he’d feed me a dead rat. If I said no, well, let’s just say the flay is no stranger to me.”

He held his hand in front of her to shush her from speaking as the stickiness of her mouth detached itself to talk. “There is no need for your sympathies. Just be aware that there are other monsters than mind flayers lurking in the shadows.”

With no color left in your skin, you can’t escape your master’s blood.

Tav closed her mouth respectfully. Of all the things Astarion could have confided in her, she could not have prophesied this tale. Her guts churned unpleasantly, ruminating over the abuse he had encountered for that length of time. She felt like she now understood his personality and behavior. Every disagreement, deflection, sarcastic joke—it all made sense. He was trying to survive, just like her.

Attempting to change the subject to allow him proper space with his thoughts, she reached out to grab the hand floating in front of her, flipping it over to examine his nails. “Forgive me for saying so, but your nails are a mess.”

He cocked his eyebrow, narrowing his puzzled eyes. When she applied a bit of pressure on his nail beds, he winced. “Ouch! All that lock-picking and murdering—as fun as it's been—surely has me ruined. You can clearly see the state of them.”

“I know you deplore my insistence on helping, but I do have something that could soothe the soreness and heal your split cuticles.”

“Oh, do indulge me darling! What did you have in mind?" he grinned with a deviant twist on his mouth.

Tav removed a vial of cuticle oil and hand lotion from the satchel hanging on the looped belt around her hips. “I was pleasantly surprised to find these at one of the vendors, though, I suppose it makes sense the druids make all sorts of concoctions. When I traveled the roads, I used to carry these with me frequently while I played music. They helped a great deal in keeping my hands softened so they wouldn’t crack open and bleed. A dreadful thing to happen if you play a stringed instrument—I might add.”

Astarion presented both of his appendages to her. “At least someone around here recognizes how handsome I am and wishes for me to maintain it! Oh, benevolent bard that wants to save even the foulest of souls, aid me in this fretfulness."

She rolled her eyes as she uncorked the bottle of oil. On each of his nails, she deposited a drop of the liquid. “I’m going to rub this into your cuticles and nail folds now, is that okay?”

He nodded his permission.

With the tips of her fingers, she meticulously rubbed the yellowish substance into his nails, focusing on the splits. The chill of his shuddery breath exhaled, splaying out against her forehead while she had her head slanted down. After she finished with the oil, she plopped a spoonful of lavender scented lotion into her palm and massaged his hands.

Astarion startled her with a groan. Her head moved upwards seeing his eyes had fluttered closed.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked timidly.

The Adam's apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “No. It feels good. Gods.”

The way the cream permeated his pale skin, like pearls being dropped into the finest white wine, fascinated her. She burrowed her fingers deeper into his hands, skimming them across slowly, relishing that she was able to nourish this horrible angel of a man in such a way. When her thumb slid from his inner palm near his wrist, up towards his middle finger, another whimper of pleasure hissed from his plush lips.

As if fathoming the effect her touch was having on him, his eyes flew open and he spun her around, pinning her between the tree and his body. The scent of the lavender heavily wafted from him. He firmly held onto her elbows, garnet unflinching in the wake of her steely blue.

“What are you doing to me,” he fanned out. "Don't touch—"

But, there would be no time to respond because the gods were in mourning and the rain began to pour. While the onslaught of droplets soaked them completely, Tav observed him, watching watery beads dripping from his mussed curls down the length of his nose. Astarion continued staring at her, almost daring the bard to hammer away at the crack he showed her. A proposition her gut was churning over.

Tav hurriedly gathered up their objects, breaking the awkward silence. “I think my tent is closer. I have some towels we can dry off with. if you'd like to come along.”

He puffed out a spurt of air, holding out his arm for her to grab onto. “It never ceases to amaze me how perilous events are always around the corner with you. On the count of three, we run.”

She reached out gracefully, tightly holding onto his bicep. With a loud giggle she boomed, ”Three!”

They ran back to camp, passing by each of the tents, their boots now soaked and soiled with mud. When they reached Tav’s, they huddled inside with quickened breaths still rising from their chests. She deposited her items into the corner and motioned for both of them to remove their shoes, leaving them isolated near the tent’s flap.

Astarion lifted up his book by the cover; it flew open with a splash of water falling from the pages into his lap. “Guess I won’t be finishing this story up anytime soon.” He tossed it to his side.

Tav grabbed a couple of towels from an unraveling basket. She unpinned her hair brooch, rubbing her lengthy strands and face in the towel all at once. Astarion followed suit, soaking up the water on his arms and chest before moving towards his scalp. His curls were deliciously wild as he shook the friction of the towel over them.

“Wait, let me. Before you frizz yourself to death.”

“I’m already dead, darling, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

She pursed her lips pretending to be annoyed. “You know what I mean, rouge.”

He conceded, passing the towel to her. Tav stood on her knees and scooted closer in between his legs, lifting herself to tower over him. Holding the towel near his head, she wrung out the water into it while she scrunched his hoary strands.

“Much better,” she whispered above him.

However, the air had begun to alter rapidly. There was an unformed spell that was pulling them together: a combination of untolds, hesitations, and growing affections. This time, unlike near the weeping willow, it refused to be disturbed.

Tav knew she was in trouble.

Astarion peered up into her face as if he were admiring the exquisiteness of a goddess forever captured in marble. Daintily, he placed his hands on either side of her hips, bidding her closer to him with a compress of his digits digging into her plumpness.

Tav lowered herself to sit back onto her heels, refusing to break eye contact with him. Her hands regretfully left the entangled mess of his snowy curls and settled in her lap, fervently hanging onto the towel tightly, out of concern she had gone too far in her succor.

Astarion traced the outline of her lips with a bewitching gaze. He lightly curved his spine forward and pressed a tiny peck at the corner of her mouth causing Tav’s stomach to morph into millions of wings flapping within her. His breath smelled of wild mint and a trace of gamey blood. The half-lidded look of consent she bestowed to him was followed by the eagerness of her chest inflating and deflating.

Then, his lips were ghosting along the flush of her skin towards her neck. She could feel the cool touch of his fingers combing her soaked hair out of the way, giving him access to the full expanse of her opulent flesh. Tav prepared to hold her breath, believing he would sink his teeth into her at any moment. Instead, he moved to place a firmer chaste kiss along the side of her neck, right behind and just below her ear lobe. She sighed heavenly into the pointed shell of his ear.

Finally, he glided his nose across her flushed skin, pursuing a trail from her neck to her forehead. The habit of his breathing from his former mortal life, was now motionless. He placed a longer peck in the middle of her brow, watching her calmly with such reverence, that her heart palpitated alongside the action.

“You’re breathtaking,” Astarion complimented her with a deep bass of his tone.

The knight has arrived. Daggers to anoint foes skin with a sweep of its cold metal. He will shatter your kingdom and you will beg him to continue.

“Tav?”

“Yes?” she nearly gasped.

He slid his hand onto her arm, caressing it lightly. “Back at the ruins, you said you couldn’t do this. Has that changed?”

Tav was nearly tense with shock. She was unsure what to do, where to touch, how to react. If she should even respond with the bustling elation that was overtaking her with each surge of blood pumping through her veins. But, with the way his fingers were tingling over her arms like an architect measuring lines, she could not control herself any longer.

She leaned forward in turn, pressing her lips to his jawline. Delighted when the cool of his breath was back to deliver its own chorus into her ear. Then, she warily moved to push her mouth onto one of the bones of his clavicle, feeling him clasp onto her tighter.

As the night took on a mystical flare of secret romance, the raging vestibules of warring beasts and luminaries leading to Tav’s heart, made her question if she was ready to belong to another. For another to belong to her. If he could be the one to peel these crosses from her body that sealed in every piece of herself like those that seal forces within stones.

The bard leaned slightly away from him, positioning her hands to repose flatly against his frigid chest. She searched his eyes for an inkling of intimate fondness for her. Any bit of affection to attest to the vows tugging within her breast that this was right.

“Astarion? Please don’t hurt me.”

But, as he gripped her hip again to pull her gently towards him—his other hand falling to the back of her head to angle her face—she could not see that his eyes were devoid of the same euphoric light she felt, when he kissed her lips in a passionate mingling of their temperatures.

There would be no salvation for these lovers.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Why do you make me feel this way? - Chapter 1: Campfire

Astarion frowned in irritation as he shot daggers at the bunch of weirdos sitting around the campfire. Gale had cooked up a root vegetable stew that smell incredible and the others shovelled it into their mouths as if they were starving. Halsin blathered on about "nature's gifts that keep giving" and Lae'zel expressed her disgust regarding the beets' earthy flavour while Karlach exclaimed to finally be able to "go for a good meal".

Astarion's gaze fell on Tav again. Good-natured, big-hearted Tav. The vampire spawn wasn't able to figure her out. Everything about her seemed contrary; her strong frame even though she was a bard, her honesty even though she could spin the most believable lies when she wanted to, her down-to-earthness despite being an artist, and her gentleness even though she fought with a ferocity that was impressive even to him.

Who are you really? What are your true intentions? Astarion mused. How long until you'll show your true colours?

He stared at their androgynous not-really-but-still-kinda leader.

He had accidentally caught her bathing in the river and had stared at her broad shoulders, muscular arms and thick thighs. He was sure she could pick him up with ease despite being shorter than him. He'd looked at the freckles on her shoulders and back, looked at that awful, short, shaggy hair style that she'd accomplished all by herself with a pair of scissors and a razor. He'd listened to her sweet voice that was so soothing as she hummed to herself.

There was something unnerving about her kind eyes when she looked at him – as if she could see right through his flirtatious facade and into his battered heart. Astarion hated it as much as he craved it. Deep down, he wanted to trust her, to be his true self again after all these years of terror caused by Cazador.

Why do you make me feel this way? Astarion asked silently, and, with a heavy heart, he watched as Tav laughed at one of Gale's lame jokes. The vampire spawn closed his eyes for a moment. The worst part was that he trusted Tav. He didn't know why, he just did. Astarion felt safe around her and he was terrified of been hurt.

Scratch and the owlbear cup seemed to sense his emotional turmoil since they scuttled over and pressed themselves against the vampire spawn's legs.

"Hey, Astarion! Come join us!" Tav shouted smiling, waving her spoon above her head.

The addressed forced a nonchalant smile onto his face and sauntered towards the fire. He sat down next to Tav and let himself be patted on the knee. Sighing silently, Astarion threw another glance at the fascinating human next to him.

Please, don't judge me for what I'd been forced to do. Please, accept me just the way I am. Love me, please.