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ghostwise · 2 months

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in the gardens of Thay 3.2k words, Astarion/Durge cw: blood drinking, non-consensual illithid powers, bhaalspawn, bard durge In exchange for a taste of her blood, Astarion finds himself unexpectedly recruited for a part in Aya's charade.

Shadowheart pressed her hands over Aya’s head, smoothing down her dark curls with a rush of blue healing magic. For a moment the glow of the spell held fast—then it dissipated quickly, like rainwater on parched earth.

“It would be easier,” she said ruefully, “if we knew what happened to you.”

“It’s no great mystery, Shadowheart,” the bard murmured, her sulphur-yellow eyes closing. “You don’t cheat death and come away without some wounds to show for it.”

“But your wounds from the crash are healed.” There was a tinge of frustration to the cleric’s voice as she regarded the stubbornly broken head of her companion. “Your amnesia should be resolving by now. Unless it wasn’t caused by your wounds to begin with.”

A shadow fell across camp suddenly, as clouds drifted in front of the sun. Astarion blinked and waited for the warmth to return, and it did, moments later. He was still wholly unused to it.

“I’m open to any theories,” Aya said, a small smile curling her lips.

Shadowheart sighed and ran her hands through Aya’s brown locks of hair.

The Sharran was getting rather familiar, Astarion noted. Ironic, considering the cold image she tried so hard to project, but anyone could see that their resident amnesiac had become Shadowheart’s favorite project. One she doted on quite attentively, at that.

“There’s all sorts of magic that could cause it,” Shadowheart mused. “I think if the root were physical, it would already be resolved. And the druids know about physical ailments better than most, yet they too have been unable to help…”

“That doesn’t necessarily point to a magical cause. I could simply be mad.”

“You’re too lucid,” Shadowheart said, not even entertaining the notion.

Astarion bit back a laugh.

He could not truly tell if Aya was being manipulative, but he had to commend her either way. Shadowheart was a powerful ally to have.

Come to think of it, that was exactly what he needed: allies. More than these tenuous traveling bonds, he needed someone on his side. Especially if he planned on sticking around, which he very much did.

Mad or sane, Aya said nothing.

She only turned her yellow gaze towards him, inscrutable as ever.

Shadowheart did not understand madness. But Astarion fancied he did.

Madness was terrible and transient. You could be mad and make a life for yourself all the same, and blend in with the muck of the day to day, with some effort. He’d felt a little mad himself when he’d first awoken after the crash. He’d felt it when he was starving and when he was alone, too.

He was quite himself now, and for that he was grateful.

But it was enough to know that those things lurked within him still, cohabiting with that wretched tadpole and liable to exert their influence over him with the right trigger: hunger, pain, fear, grief. Such things were not uncommon these days. Tragedy could befall anyone, at any time, in an instant. The little tiefling bard was a stark reminder of this.

But if only he’d managed to lap up some of her blood before it’d congealed in the mud…!

Meanwhile Aya did not yet remember anything with the exception of her songs, and perhaps this too was a type of madness. She remembered more songs every day, and had lately spent hours plucking away at her lute, singing in her gravelly voice.

“I courted a lass in the gardens of Thay,

Her voice was honey sweet

And we hand in hand spent many a day

In happiness’ blinding reach.”

Her voice crooned softly in the night. Astarion heard it from his bedroll where he lay, awake and uncomfortable, trying to ignore the ache of hunger in his limbs.

He longed to hunt. But it was nearing midnight, and when she started like this she could go on for hours.

“I slaughtered my love in the gardens of Thay,

Her blood was a symphony

And her soft hands could not allay

All of my fury and grief.”

He weighed his options. Once they set off for the goblin camp, there was no telling when or how he would feed. Could he steal a few sips of goblin blood without anyone noticing? Unlikely, as everyone would be on high alert. This could be his last chance.

Outside his tent, Aya’s voice dipped softly, swooning through the night.

“An unsent letter in the gardens of Thay

The delicate writing reads:

‘My beloved I’ll never betray.

Your wicked bribes you may keep.’”

“Ooh, a drama,” he muttered under his breath. For a moment he nearly hoped she was done but the playing and singing resumed in yet another encore. He stifled a groan.

The songs were largely about people encountering the unexpected. Betrayed lovers, gold that vanished as quickly as it was acquired, curses and prophecies going awry. Many of the songs had a morbid slant to the verse. He did not recognize any of them.

He willed her to go to sleep, but of course, she did not. By the time everyone else was awake, Aya had not slept a wink. Nor, for that matter, had he.

And he was still hungry.

A vampire’s hunger was a terrible thing. It sat not in the belly, but in the heart, and it bled over every single part of him.

“Sleep well last night?” he asked Aya that morning, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Like a dove,” she hummed.

A liar, too. What in the Nine Hells did that even mean?

Astarion frowned. He’d have to deal with this sooner rather than later.

It wound up being sooner.

The goblin camp was a veritable assault on all his senses: noise and grime and screams. The scent of smoke and blood pervaded the ransacked temple, and he hadn’t eaten in days. Aya had been up every single night, singing with her lute, leaving him no chance to steal away. Nonetheless, she exhibited none of the fatigue she should; instead, she’d carved a path through the cultists like they were butter and she a hot blade.

There was something more to the amnesiac bard, that was certain. This was not the first time she’d killed. The sight of her reveling in their enemies’ deaths was enough to make him very thankful they were on the same side.

That night, when it was finally safe to make camp, and when everyone had fallen into a heavy slumber, he crept towards her bedroll.

His hunger made it hard to think. He’d hoped not to feed on an ally, but he knew what happened when he was deprived of a meal too long.

Surely she was as exhausted as he, if not more, after her little rampage. She wouldn’t stir, if he was careful. If he only took a mouthful… he could make a small cut with his blade, to disguise the bite.

Too hungry to quell his instincts, he leaned in.

Then a calloused hand was at his chest, pinching the fabric in a vice-grip.

It startled him. He jolted away, but couldn’t move; he was stuck. Caught.

“Shit,” he uttered.

Aya was looking up at him, breathing fast, and something in her gaze made him wonder if she was awake at all.

“No- no, it’s not what it looks like,” he said, anxious as her grip tightened. She’d clutched a handful of his shirt and twisted it in her hand with shocking ease, holding him still and off-balance.

“I swear! I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just- needed-” The word tumbled out, surprising and honest. “Blood.”

Aya blinked slowly. Still keeping a firm grip on him, she scooted over on her bedroll and sat up.

“Of course,” she said slowly, her voice thick with slumber. “I’m beginning to understand now. How long since you killed someone in cold blood?” Her lips stretched back, forming a half-smile. “Since Alfira?”

“What?” Astarion yanked himself loose at last—or she released him—and he fell backwards. “No! I’ve never killed anyone. Well. Not for food.”

He looked at her, suspicion flooding his mind along with the deep-seated instinct to appease her. Why bring up Alfira now? He’d never gotten the impression that he was a suspect. He chose his words carefully.

“I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds—whatever I can get. Alfira’s murder was senseless, without rhyme or reason… as you, no doubt, recall.”

There was just a hint of a challenge in his words, and he held onto this challenge resolutely, meeting Aya’s steady gaze with his own.

It was a mistake. He felt something at the edge of his mind—then in the very midst of him. He sucked in a gasp of air as Aya delved further.

“What’s this-?” He looked away as if by doing so he could flee from it. “What’s happening?”

He was being mined for truth.

He’d seen her do this before, without a single care. Seen her bend others to her whims without mercy. He felt a jolt of fear at the idea that he might suffer a similar fate.

His memories were shuffled through like one would flip through the pages of a dull book. Then it was over as quickly as it began.

“You’re being truthful,” Aya muttered. “But don’t act so virtuous. You feed on vermin because you have been forced to. Not out of some noble attempt at morality.”

“I…”

The weight of what had just transpired settled on him, and he realized what she must’ve seen, what she now knew. When he looked at her again he found her alert, inquisitive, albeit tired, with a deep-seated darkness around her eyes.

And there was pity in those eyes. Vile and unwelcome, yet, malleable.

“Yes,” he admitted, gritting his teeth and ignoring the frantic spasms of his starving heart. “Yes, I ate whatever disgusting vermin my master picked. So… you can see why I’m slow to trust you.”

He paused, and thought of the fresh link Aya had just forged between their minds. It was a two-way street, if that was how she wanted to play it. So, somewhat desperate, he gave a push back along the same bridge.

“But I do trust you,” he continued firmly. “And you can trust me.”

“Uh-uh,” Aya said, tapping at her head. “Out.”

“Oh, you started it!”

“No, you started it,” she snapped. “When you tried to feed on me in my sleep.”

The tug of war between their thoughts left him nauseous. “Fine!” Astarion wrinkled his nose and aimed a short-lived glare at her. “I propose a deal, then: No more tadpole powers from you, and no more attempts from me to feed on you. Cross my heart, hope to die, pinky promise and so on-”

“Deal,” Aya said evenly, and with the cadence of someone who surely was crossing her fingers behind her back.

But for now it would do. The uninvited link vanished.

She reclined on her bedroll, and Astarion nearly sighed in relief.

“I’m so glad,” he said, attempting to recapture some of his composure. He should have tried to make a meal of Wyll instead… but it was too late now. He aimed an amicable smile at her. “I trust this can remain, er, our little secret?”

Aya gave a steely nod.

“Thank you,” Astarion sighed. “Thank you ever so much. Well! That being settled, I suppose I should go find a rat to gnaw on or something…”

“Oh, please,” Aya scoffed. “There’s hardly any need for that. I’m right here.”

Astarion frowned. He watched her for a moment, but her meaning became no clearer for it.

“Come again?”

“You’re not well, Astarion,” Aya said quietly. “I could sense it, even before I touched your thoughts. If you can’t fight you’ll just drag us down. So… have your damn meal.”

“You’re… offering?”

“I’m offering.” Aya raised a brow. “Do try to contain your excitement. And take only what you need—not a drop more.”

“Of course,” Astarion said, still in disbelief. “I shall be gentle as a babe.”

He perched himself carefully beside her and felt along her neck. Anatomy varied from person to person; he needed to bite just the right spot, or he’d risk her bleeding out. Aya regarded these preparations with an air of amusement.

When he was ready, he pierced her sweat-tinged skin with his fangs. He was met with a bloom of salt, copper, and beneath that, something he couldn’t name.

Now came the graceless part. Not wanting to waste a drop, he angled his head and clamped around the wound, and drank slowly, but deeply. As the blood settled within him it ushered away his pain, filled him with strength… it made him realize he’d been hungry for months, years, decades.

He was already sated, but the sudden high made it hard to even consider depriving himself of a few more mouthfuls of her blood.

It was like being submerged in a hot bath. It was like a chorus compared to a single voice. There was a presence in it, an awe-inspiring shiver, almost reverent, as if it were not just he and Aya in the tent.

But who else was there, in Aya’s blood?

And should it be such a surprise how different it was from that of the animals he’d subsisted on all his undeath? Not that he had any real point of reference. As he searched the sensation, he felt that there was a message in the red. A message for him, he realized in shock, twitching a little and feeling a thick droplet slide out of his mouth. Aya’s distant voice singing a wordless dirge, and a deeper voice singing with her.

Oh, if he had just a little more, he could understand…

Aya pried him off like a tick, her hand clamped around his gullet.

“Greedy,” she slurred.

He snapped back to lucidity with embarrassing quickness. “Ah,” he said, a stupid syllable mouthed around the last drops of blood he’d taken. He tried to coax his mind back from incoherence, refocusing on her with ease. “Of course. I was just- swept up in the moment.”

He glowed. How wonderful. Was this what Cazador had deprived him of all those centuries? The other spawn would surely simmer with envy and hate if they knew how good blood could taste, how beautiful an afterlife could be; powerful, uninhibited and unstarved. He grinned, flexing his fingers. He felt awareness and keen insight from the very top of his white curls to the very earth below.

Aya, blessed blood, let out a giggle.

“Oooh,” she intoned. “Bit stronger than what you’re used to, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he admitted. “But it worked! I feel good. Strong. Happy.”

She smiled, pressing a rag to the wound to stifle its bleeding. “How nice,” she said in perfect monotone. “Alright. Fuck off now, please and thanks. I must clean up and get back to my perverse dreams.”

Astarion nodded slowly. He’d already pushed his luck and succeeded; no need to push further. As he withdrew from her tent, he glanced over his shoulder, driven to seek some sort of sentimental closure, to counter her rather abrupt dismissal.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”

The next day, Aya was unsteady as a newborn fawn.

Thankfully the bulk of the fighting was behind them. As the others ventured forth to pick off the stragglers of the goblin horde, Shadowheart stayed behind to tend to her project.

Astarion pushed down an uneasy rush of feeling when their return from the field found Shadowheart and Aya waiting. There was no mistaking that look—the cleric glowered at him, and from behind her, Aya watched him silently.

“A vampire,” Shadowheart said.

Astarion pursed his lips and looked at Aya, who shrugged with a meager smile.

“That explains the pallor,” Shadowheart continued. “Though it doesn’t explain what you were thinking, feeding off the weakest in our number. Do you think I’m throwing healing magic at her for fun for you to be sapping her strength like this, night after night?”

“What-?” Astarion stammered, but he could recognize an ambush when he walked into one.

“A vampire among us?” Lae’zel asked.

“Aya has been hiding her wounds. She succeeded until this morning. Apparently she’d lost too much blood,” Shadowheart explained.

As if on cue, Aya tugged the collar of her shirt down. At the very least, Astarion could pride himself on doing a tidy job. Two symmetrical little bite wounds were visible on her neck, perfectly placed and not unseemly at all.

Lae’zel recoiled from the sight. “Tsk’va!”

“Hunting with vampires!” Wyll exclaimed. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Settle down, everyone, please,” Aya said.

Astarion waited, half-annoyed and half-curious. What was she playing at? Her lie hung tenuously in the air, recognized by no one but he and she. But she was a performer. So he let her perform.

“He trusted me with his secret, and perhaps we should have told everyone sooner, yes… but I saw no harm in letting him feed from me, just a little. Just until he was no longer starving.”

Appealing to their compassion, she turned with her hands outstretched and her eyes wide with feeling.

“He’s been dedicating himself to hunting animal blood as much as possible, to keep from hurting anyone. Should he suffer for what he is? I didn’t believe so. Hopefully neither do you. He fed on me at the grove, and again, the night Alfira…” Her words trailed off, pained.

“So it couldn’t have been him that killed her,” Wyll concluded, watching the display with interest.

The charade clicked in Astarion’s mind.

“Whatever the case, should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him,” Lae’zel said.

“Fair enough!” Aya quipped. Before Astarion knew it, she was at his side, one hand gracefully alighting on his shoulder. “You needn’t worry about that. Right, my friend?”

“Right.” Astarion looked at her. Her smile twitched slightly, coaxing him to continue. “And I am terribly sorry for all this?” he added, and Aya squeezed his shoulder gently.

That seemed to do the trick.

As the others walked away to process this new revelation, Astarion set a hand over Aya’s, keeping her close. In the vacuum of truth she had created, it was easy to walk her away from camp, just enough to have a private exchange.

He looked at her, noting the self-satisfied look in her eyes.

“So. That was fun. But tell me something: Why did you do it?” he asked. “Why did you kill Alfira?”

She let out a woozy chuckle. “Not sure. She annoyed me. I think that must be why.”

“I see.” Astarion mulled it over. “That does sound pretty reasonable, actually. But I can do my own lying, you know. You could have… clued me in a little?”

“And you would have played along?” Aya tilted her head, exposing, for a moment, the sinewed shape of neck. Her eyes shone with interest. “Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Against his better judgment, he laughed.

“I could say much the same for you. Stick around and you’ll see just how surprising I can be.”

#rinnywrites #bg3 #durge #bg3 durge #astarion ancunin #astarion/durge #oc: aya #i wanted to write a drabble to brainstorm the aya/astarion situation and it turned into this... please i'm so tired just take it #gaslight gatekeep etc #i don't like using game-dialogue this much buuut this being a rough draft of their dynamic i will allow it

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verai-marcel · 7 months

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Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 21 of 28)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

AO3 Link is here, darling.

Word Count: 4,513

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Act II, Chapter 9 - The Artifact

As everyone packed their things and got ready to leave for the Gate, you realized that you had a new party member.

Jaheira had decided to accompany you to help defeat the Chosen of the Dead Three. She had said she couldn’t stand and watch some young brats make the same mistakes she did when she went against the Bhaalspawn.

Halsin had rejoined your party as well; he had promised your group that he would lend his aid in defeating the Absolute before returning to help rebuild Thaniel’s land. It was the least he could when everyone had helped him remove the curse.

And so now, with two druids along for the journey, you carried on to the city, despite your own misgivings about returning to a place where you might be recognized.

It’s been three years. Perhaps no one will remember me. I was only here for a tenday, after all.

It should have been a straight shot to the bridge that led to Baldur’s Gate. But just as you all had attempted to pass through, a gang of githyanki warriors ambushed you. But after having a good night’s sleep, your friends were invigorated and took them out quickly.

Lae’zel didn’t seem surprised by the attack. You spoke quietly to her as the group continued down the road and discovered that she had been visited by one of the other githyanki shortly before your group entered the Underdark. You had been sound asleep, apparently. She had met with the one you had seen flying a red dragon when you had just started traveling with them. You thought the brothel was a strange place to meet, but you figured clandestine meetings were probably commonplace there.

As you left the Shadowlands, you felt a soft tingling along your spine. It felt more like a gentle touch, like someone running their fingers delicately along your skin. You turned to see the huge tree that had been blackened and rotting suddenly glow and bloom, life returning to it in a sudden wave of growth. Light was returning to the land, and your friends had helped make it happen. You turned to the others, who had also stopped and were looking back, satisfied smiles on their faces.

The day passed on the road, chatting away, almost as if you all weren’t about to face the biggest threat to the city in nearly a century. You managed to pull Shadowheart aside and spoke with her separately from the others about what had happened in the temple.

It took her a bit to open up, but once she started to tell you, everything came pouring out. Her refusal to kill the Nightsong. Her decision to trust her instincts for once and not blindly do what Shar asked of her. What Dame Aylin told her last night in the inn.

“When we get to the city, I want to start searching for my parents.”

You held her hand. You had not put on your gloves today, on a whim. You were glad, for you felt a determination, strong and clear. The haze that you had always sensed in her emotions before was now gone, replaced by a clean clarity, like spring water. “I’ll help you, in any way I can.”

Shadowheart smiled warmly at you. “Thank you. For always being here for us. For me.” She squeezed your hand in return. “There is… one thing, I’d like your help with. I’ll tell you when we make camp tonight.”

***

You were halfway to the city when night fell, so you set up a camp a little ways off the main road. There was an abandoned house surrounded by red grasses and red-leaved trees. It was a beautiful area, not quite healed, but not quite dead either. You supposed it was because it looked like autumn had come to all the foliage that made it look so alluring to you.

Setting up the campfire, you were about to sing your fire cantrip when it suddenly lit on its own.

You felt a harsh sting at the base of your spine, and you quickly turned around. The air shimmered and Raphael appeared, all smirks and slimy grins.

“Oh? And where’s your pet?”

Your brow wrinkled. “He’s not my pet.”

His gaze focused on something over your shoulder. “Could have fooled me, with how quickly he’s coming to your side.”

You didn’t take your eyes off the devil, only listening for Astarion as he marched right up next to you.

“We delivered the devil. Now I want what I’m owed. We had a deal.”

Raphael sneered. “Indeed we did.”

You listened quietly, taking in everything that the devil was saying. It was horrendous. When Raphael disappeared with a flamboyant snap of his fingers and a plume of infernal smoke, you turned to Astarion.

He frowned. “Hmmm.”

You stepped closer and took his hand in yours. His emotions were a jumble of confusion.

“What do you think I should do?” he asked you in a quiet murmur.

You thought about how hard it was to feel free when you were constantly looking over your shoulder. “You’ll never be free while Cazador lives.”

“I hate how right you are.” He paused, thinking. “I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone even when I was just another wretched toy for him to play with. But if I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll hunt me to the ends of Faerûn.”

You squeezed his hand.

Astarion let out a resigned sigh. “I need to take the fight to him.”

“Let’s ask the others for help.”

He looked at you, unsure.

Tugging on his arm, you led him to the others sitting by the campfire.

“No need to ask,” Gale suddenly said as you and Astarion sat down. “We’ll help you, Astarion.”

He blinked. “I…” Taking a small breath, he bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Karlach came over and sat beside him, lightly punching his arm. “C’mon now, did you really think we’d let that arsehole take you away from us?”

“And we’d be doing the city a favor,” Wyll mentioned. “I can’t in good conscience let someone like that become even more powerful.”

You watched Astarion, clearly still not used to having friends, awkwardly accept everyone’s offer to help.

Aww. I’m happy for him.

As everyone sat by the campfire, you mentally tallied up all of the things your friends wanted, and needed, to do. Visit the arcane bookstore to research the crown. Find Shadowheart’s parents. Kill Cazador. Beat the shit out of Gortash and take his netherstone. Find Orin and take her netherstone. Destroy (or control) the elder brain.

So many tasks. At the end of the day, it sounded like a laundry list for legendary heroes, not average folk.

But looking around at your friends, you thought, perhaps they could become legendary. After all, they all had harsh pasts that forced them to grow stronger, wiser, bolder, than anyone you had ever met before.

So why am I here?

The night went on, and the others began to head off to bed. You cleaned up and went to Shadowheart’s tent and asked her what she needed help with.

“I… I want to change my hair.”

You blinked. “Sure, of course.” Looking at her dark braid, you imagined the possibilities. Luscious wavy locks? A cute bob cut? “You have an idea in mind?”

“Well… I think I’d like to change the color, mostly.”

You blinked. “To… what?”

She looked up at the moonlight. “Perhaps something that suits my… heritage.”

Ah, Selune. Oh! “I have an idea.”

You sang your illusion spell, the one you had learned from Gale a while back. But now you could manipulate it to change aspects of the image, and with a few hummed notes, you could change how her hair looked in the image. She selected one that looked similar to her current style, but in silver.

“Alright, I apologize if this doesn’t work exactly how you imagine.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You took a deep breath. Gods, I hope this works.

Then you sang. It was a soft song, one that grew out her bangs to mid-length, and changed her dark strands to platinum, the darkness ebbing away from her roots to the tips, as if you were singing away the shadows from her hair. When you finished, you grabbed her mirror and held it up to her. “What do you think?”

You held your breath as she turned her head one way, then another, her gaze critical.

Finally, she smiled. “I love it.” She turned and hugged you. “It’ll take some getting used to, but… it feels right.”

You hugged her tightly in return. “I’m glad.” Stepping back, you gently touched her braid. “It really does suit you.” Then you waggled your eyebrows. “Be sure that you ask Gale what he thinks in the morning. Or tonight.”

Shadowheart lightly slapped your arm, but shared your laughter.

***

“Are you quite done with your ladies night?”

You raised an eyebrow at Astarion, who was sitting inside of his tent, lounging back on a cushion, sipping a goblet of wine and reading a book.

“Are you jealous that we didn’t invite you?” you asked as you sat next to him.

“What do you think?”

“I think you were.”

He put his goblet down, grabbed his hair brush, and handed it to you silently.

You smiled. “You were.” Quietly brushing his hair while he relaxed under your touch, you realized after a while that he had placed his book down. You leaned over to look at his face.

His eyes were closed, his lips curved slightly, contentedness flowing from him.

“When’s the last time you fed?”

He answered after a few moments. “Yesterday, I think.”

You placed your wrist in front of his mouth. “Here.”

Gently, Astarion grasped your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist. He lightly ran his fangs along your skin.

You could feel his hunger, and his delight. And something simmering beneath those emotions, something darker, more primal. Bracing yourself for the pain, you took a deep breath.

“Thank you for this meal,” he said in a reverent whisper before biting down. It stung, as always, but the emotions you had felt before became more intense. Your whole body felt like it lurched with the sensations, and you could feel your heart suddenly racing, both from his eagerness to feed, and also from the intimacy of the act.

You weren’t sure how long he fed from you, but when he let go, he kissed your wound. “I have a vial of healing potion near those books in the corner,” he said. “Just for you.”

You poured a few drops of the potion on your wrist, then you lay down, almost curling up around him like a cat.

Astarion chuckled. “You’re like a kitten,” he murmured, commenting on your body language.

“Meow,” you said playfully.

He reached up and undid the leather strip that kept your bun together. He ran one hand through your hair, letting it cascade around his hand. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

You blinked and looked up at him. “Erm, thank you.”

His expression looked pained, and you could feel a slight tinge of guilt through his touch. “So beautiful it almost hurts,” he whispered.

Frowning, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down beside you. You stared into his eyes, trying to figure out why he would say such a thing. Oh. I think I know why. “What would take that hurt away?”

He looked sad. “I don’t know.”

You gently pressed your forehead against his. “Perhaps a chaste kiss?”

You were half-joking, but he looked at you with such hope that you immediately felt bad.

“Can you imagine?” he whispered. “I’ve bedded thousands. And yet the thought of a mere kiss with you sends my heart aflame.”

Cupping his cheek, you smiled. “That’s because I’m special.”

“That you are.”

He and you both leaned in slowly, eyes closing as your lips came into contact. There was a spark, a flash of white hot heat that lasted half a moment before it melted into a soft warmth. You pulled away first, not wanting to risk anything further.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered open. “Perfection.”

You smiled. “You liar.”

He chuckled softly as he pulled you in close and settled in to trance. “About you? Never.”

***

You awoke in his arms again, and together you broke down the tent before you went to help clean and pack up camp for the rest of the journey.

After another day of eventless travel, you found an abandoned fort as night fell, and decided that although you were a stone’s throw away from the city’s outer limits, there was no reason to exhaust yourselves so soon when there would be fierce battles ahead. After setting up the campsite, you climbed up to the tower and stared at the city lights. It had been a while since you’d been here. Over three years, and to you, Baldur’s Gate still looked the same.

I wonder if Waterdeep looks any different now than when I left. Not that I would ever go back. Not unless I knew that masked lord was dead.

Taking in the view for a few minutes more, you finally turned and headed back down the ladder to the campfire, where Shadowheart and Gale were setting up the kindling.

“Shall I light it up?” Gale asked, his hand raised, ready to cast a cantrip.

“Sure,” Shadowheart replied, and while you quietly stood back and watched, Gale snapped his fingers, waved his hand, and murmured some words you couldn’t hear, his eyes never leaving hers.

Alright Shadowheart, I see why you fell for him.

Setting the campfire ablaze, Gale leaned a little closer to the cleric, their arms brushing against one another.

You tried to slip away, but you accidentally stepped on some dry leaves. Gods, could I have been any more cliché?

They both turned to you.

“How long have you been there?” Shadowheart asked as Gale stepped away from her.

Argh, I’m sorry Gale. “I was just walking past, so only a second or two.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“She was lying?”

Both of you looked at Gale.

You’re so smart, and yet so dumb. “I was trying to be discreet,” you said as you turned to Shadowheart. “Isn’t that what you taught me?”

She laughed. “I did, and I appreciate the effort.” Taking Gale’s hand, she smiled. “But… I think it’s alright now.”

Gale looked back at her in surprise.

“Besides, everyone in camp already knows,” you said with a laugh.

Gale continued to look surprised.

Oh my gods, Gale. “Anyway, I can’t wait to see you two holding hands openly now.”

When the supper was ready and everyone sat down together to eat, Karlach gasped and pointed at the two lovebirds holding hands, like a little girl excitedly seeing something cute.

“Oh my gosh, finally!”

Gale and Shadowheart blushed. The others only laughed.

“I told you, everyone knew already,” you said, passing out glasses of wine to everyone. “A toast, to friends, to love, and to beating up bad guys.”

Everyone heartily cheered and had a few more glasses before supper was over. While you cleaned up, everyone was relaxing by the fire, amicably chatting away. It was peaceful and nice.

But you felt a foreboding, deep down in your gut. And on your seal, to be honest. And for some reason, every time you focused on the lines of magic, there was always some kind of thread leading back to Shadowheart. Or more specifically, her pack.

Could it be…?

Finally, you could no longer resist your curiosity. You knew she kept some kind of strange artifact on her person, everyone knew about it. The others hadn’t told you too much about it, other than it contained a power that was helping them resist transforming into a mind flayer. So you went up to Shadowheart after you finished your chores.

“Can I… see your artifact?”

She looked surprised. “Why?”

“I…” You paused. You realized that only Astarion knew about your seal. “Um, just curious. You all have spoken about it here and there, and I realized that I had never seen it up close.”

She raised an eyebrow, but pulled it out of her pack and showed it to you. “You can look, but I don’t think you should touch it. It might… react poorly.”

You could tell she was lying, but you weren’t sure why.

As you approached, it glowed, power pulsing along its creases. Your seal pulsed in response, and you stepped back. “Oh, wow. Alright, well, it does seem a bit… dangerous.”

Shadowheart nodded as she put it away. “It’s the only thing keeping us from transforming into brain suckers, but it’s certainly brought us trouble along the way.”

“Ah, that’s true. Well, thank you for indulging my curiosity,” you finally said, and bid her good night.

Returning to Astarion’s tent, you lay on your bedroll and stared up at the stars. Astarion was taking first watch tonight, so you would be alone for the first half of the night. Before, it wouldn’t have bothered you. Now, you wanted to hold him in your arms.

Gods, is this what falling in love feels like? To be so… needy?

Slowly, you fell into a restless sleep.

***

You awoke to the sting of your seal burning on your back and sat bolt upright.

“Darling?”

Glancing over at Astarion, who had only just taken off his armor, you only said, “seal,” and ran outside, following the lines of power. You could hear him pulling his armor back on as he ran after you. Not bothering to sneak past the other tents, you ran to the main campfire and stared up at the wooden walkway. The lines of power ended there.

“There’s nothing here,” Astarion said as he caught up to you. “At least, not yet.”

Then he suddenly grasped his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

At the same time, a portal opened on the wooden walkway and several figures stepped out, their menacing silhouettes darkening the glow from the portal.

The figures, sensing that you were the weak one, all honed in and dashed towards you.

“Go to Withers!” Astarion yelled as he deflected an arrow shot straight at your head.

You ran towards the little hut at the edge of the campsite, just as everyone else appeared and ran towards the enemy, passing you on the way.

Then you saw the owlbear cub, snarling and growling, while Scratch tugged on its neck, trying to pull him away.

Oh gods, the little ones!

You stopped to help Scratch pull the owlbear cub away from the fight to where Withers was staying, calmly talking the cub down from its bloodlust.

“No sweetheart, you can’t go fight, not now. Wait until you’re bigger.”

~~But I want to fight now. Help big brother.~~

“Big Brother?” You looked over to see Halsin in his bear form, knocking back enemies with a mighty swing of his paws. Turning back to the little owlbear, you scratched his head. “When you’re bigger, my sweet. Let’s make sure you get lots to eat so you can grow big and strong, alright? But for now, you need to stay safe and alive so you can fight later.”

Owly looked up at you with his big pleading eyes.

“No, you must stay here.”

He hooted sadly.

You turned to Scratch. “Thank you for helping him.”

~Of course, Mistress. I couldn’t let our little brother get hurt.~

You blinked. “Mistress?”

Scratch tipped his head. ~Well. Yes. I suppose you’re our mistress now. You’ve been good to us. You care about us. You feed us.~

You nodded. “I suppose. But to me, we’ll always be friends.”

Scratch pressed his wet nose against your knee. ~Yes, always.~

Turning your attention back to the battle beyond, you decided to stay behind and wait for the others to handle the fight. You watched as they defeated the enemies and jumped into the portal. Everything grew quiet, and it looked like the warriors on the ground were well and truly dead.

You came upon the corpses, a bit surprised to see that they were githyanki.

Ah. Odd. Oh well.

You began to loot their bodies, taking all of their armor and weapons for later bartering. Then you dragged their bodies, one by one with Scratch’s help, to the cliff’s edge, tossing them off the side.

When you saw Owly devouring one of the bodies, you had an idea. “Owly, do you want to eat the others?”

Owly looked up and looked around. ~~Yes, more food!~~ he chirped happily around a mouthful of flesh.

Good, that’ll be less weight to push off the cliff.

You cleaned up the camp and prepared some healing potions, waiting for the others to return.

A few hours passed, and when they came out of the portal, your companions looked exhausted. More concerning to you was Gale was helping Shadowheart walk, her arm wrapped around his shoulders, favoring her left leg. You called her name and immediately went to the other side of her, putting her other arm around your shoulders. Helping her to the campfire, you and Gale sat her down, leaning against a rock to prop her up.

You went to grab a few healing potions, quickly returning just in time to see Gale holding her hand, gently whispering to her as she grimaced against the pain. You knelt down beside her and helped her drink two of the potions, monitoring the ghastly wound that ran along the length of her thigh as it healed.

“You’re a tough one, aren’t you,” you said soothingly as you helped her out of her armor.

Shadowheart only shrugged.

“Can you walk now?”

She nodded. “Yeah, seems alright.”

“Good. Leave your clothes outside your tent, I’ll clean and mend them before morning.”

You didn’t say anything when Gale led her to her tent and followed her inside.

Now you could tend to the others. Everyone already knew the drill as they tossed their clothes in piles outside of their tents, clearly ready to be done for the night. Just as you were about to dutifully gather their things, Astarion gently guided you back to his tent.

“Astarion?”

“It can wait until you’ve had some sleep,” he said, dropping his armor and bloody clothes on the floor inside of his tent. He pulled on a pair of soft linen pants and lay down on his bedroll. “Come here, darling.”

Just as you laid down next to him, he pulled you on top of him, draping you over his body like a blanket. A feeling of satisfaction oozed from him, so you let him hold you.

Letting his body lull you into a warm, comforting stupor, you softly sang a lullaby from long ago.

Soon enough, both of you fell asleep.

***

You woke up when Astarion did. More specifically, he jolted upright, accidentally flinging you to the side.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” you asked, panicking at the look of fear on his face.

“I… I slept.”

You blinked. It took a moment for you to register exactly what he said. “Wait, I thought elves didn’t sleep.”

“We don’t, generally speaking. At least, I don’t.” He stared at you. “Your song last night. It was different from your usual lullaby.”

You thought about it. “Oh… it was one my mother used to sing to me. It’s… in Sylvan…” You shook your head. “Wait, I thought nothing could make an elf fall asleep?”

Astarion stared at you. “Curious.” He finally shrugged. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you not sing that song in my presence again. I… dreamed about the past.”

He said that last word with such disgust that you were afraid to ask what he dreamed about. “I’m sorry.”

He waved away your apology. “You didn’t know.” Looking closely at your face, he raised an eyebrow. “You want to ask me what I dreamed about, don’t you?”

You swallowed. “I don’t want to make you relive something you don’t want to.”

He shrugged and held your hand. “Perhaps telling you will help me forget about it.”

You could tell that Astarion was omitting or glossing over certain things as he spoke, but you got the gist. Entombed for a whole year. You could barely manage a day without eating, but a whole year? You wanted to tear out Cazador’s entrails and strangle him with them. Your tears fell, full of rage and sadness for Astarion, who was punished far too harshly just for showing a bit of compassion.

He brushed your tears away. “You’re far too empathetic,” he said.

You have no idea. Taking a deep breath, you calmed yourself, your breath still shuddering. “I wish I could feed him his own innards.”

Astarion laughed. “If you could fight, you would have been a magnificent menace,” he said proudly. “It’s almost a shame you’re as sweet as you are. Can you imagine yourself tearing your enemies limb from limb?”

You chuckled. “That is definitely a fever dream of an image.”

He took your hands and pressed his forehead to yours. You could tell that some of the fear was subsiding, but there was still a slight thrum beneath everything else. He finally leaned back and took a breath.

“Everyone said that they’d help you. They’ll help you kill him, and you’ll be free,” you assured him.

He only hummed thoughtfully before getting up. “Well, I suppose we should face the new day, hm?”

***

As you went around cleaning and mending the damaged clothes from last night, you could overhear snippets of conversation as the others ate breakfast.

“The Gate is close. As is Cazador.” You could hear Astarion’s ire as he launched into a tirade, his words dripping with venom.

The others commented, but your ears perked up when he mentioned taking Cazador’s place in the ritual.

I’m not sure about this.

You continued to eavesdrop until they decided to look for Astarion’s ‘siblings’ around the dens of the city. You couldn’t quite tell what everyone was thinking, but with each person having their own goals in the city, you wondered if they were all distracted with their own thoughts and not truly paying attention.

After an hour, everyone had packed up and gotten their things packed onto the floating disc. Walking down the path towards the city, you quietly pulled Astarion aside.

“Are you sure about… taking Cazador’s place?”

“We need to find out more, but why not? Don’t you want me to be stronger?”

I do, but not if you’re sacrificing souls to a devil to do it. “Just… think about the consequences.”

He shrugged. “I am.”

You could tell that he wasn’t. Leaving it alone for now, you followed the group into Rivington, and a new phase of your adventure.

Gods, we have enough shit headed our way. I hope I can help them, if even just a little bit.

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

Act II, Chapter 9 End notes: Finally, we’re getting to the city! What new trouble will our heroes find themselves in? How will our dear hearth witch handle the big city? Find out next week! Just seven more chapters to go, my dears…

Tags List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion x f!reader #female reader #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #writing #bg3 spoilers #your hearth is my home

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wheretheharekissesthefox · 7 months

Text

Hear my pleas

This one’s different from my usual fics and set in an alternative universe where all the worst-case scenario outcomes had happened (set post BG3):

Astarion has ascended, his vampire spawn lover Tav, a Bhaalspawn, is dead, Gale reached godhood, Shadowheart was killed by her Sharran kin, Karlach's beheaded for the sword of Tyr, Wyll and Halsin are dead along with the tieflings and the grove, Lae'zel and Minthara had been killed in the last battle against the Netherbrain.

Astarion's lonely and tired. He has no one. Thus, in his desperation, he builds an altar for the God of Ambition and prays to him despite not expecting an answer. – His prayers are heard though.

Astarion x Gale

(Trigger warning (18+): graphic description of sex, smut, angst, anilingus, anal sex, nonconsensual blood drinking, blood, biting, cum-eating, choking, dom/sub power dynamic, derogatory language, dubious consent, fellatio, face-fucking, violence, vomiting, spanking, sprinkle of praise kink, these men have trauma, character study, emotional rollercoaster, happy ending (I wouldn't stand it otherwise), unnamed Tav, they/them pronounce for Tav, original character, OC, post-canon)

Notes:

I finally forced myself to play the Dark Urge and to choose all the worst options 'for fun'. It wasn't fun. It hurt. Badly. Now, you all gonna suffer with me for a bit.

Also, just so that it's said: I do NOT support romanticising and/or defending violent behaviours, especially when it comes to sex!

In this fic, Astarion and Gale both know that what's happening is wrong.

The Netherbrain was defeated, but at what cost?

The Emerald Grove was dead and with it dozens of tieflings and druids, as well as Halsin the Archdruid and Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers. They had exchanged Zariel's attack dog, Karlach, for a sword blessed by Tyr – which hadn't been worth it at all. Shadowheart had been killed by her Sharran kin because of a betrayal the cleric couldn't even remember. Lae'zel and Minthara had been killed in the last battle against the Netherbrain, both of them fighting 'till the end. Gale had become the God of Ambition, now dwelling in the Outer Planes. Astarion had finished Cazador's Infernal ritual and had ascended to an all-powerful vampire lord. He had turned his lover Tav, a Bhaalspawn, into his first and only vampire spawn, granting them one single drop of his own blood to make them his spouse.

Everything had been perfect until Withers had gathered the three remaining members of the heroic group for a night of celebration. There, Tav had lost themself completely, giving themself over to Bhaal instead of Astarion, and attacked their lover, Gale, and Withers. The God of Ambition had killed them, incinerated them to a heap of ash, and the vampire lord had wept for the loss of his first true love.

Seven years had passed since then, but Astarion still couldn't find any joy in his immortal life. With his mad love dead, Astarion was alone again and once more at the brink of forgetting how to love. The Szarr palace had never felt like home and it still didn't, but Astarion had nowhere else to go. He hated the place, hated the servants who only bent to all his wishes because they hoped to be turned into spawns and gifted with immortality. He hated to host parties for the nobles, politicians, and other people in power because it forced him to put his mask back on and slip into a character that wasn't fully true to himself. He hated to be pleasant company and to show interest in people and things he didn't care about the slightest to secure his place in the city. He hated his life, his existence, and the worst of it all; he had to face it all by himself. Once again, Astarion was alone to survive the hells of eternity.

It was a breezy spring morning and Astarion decided to go for a stroll through the bustling city. His mindless wandering led him to the tabernacle near Basilisk Gate. He entered it, not knowing why he did so exactly, and came face to face with the statue of the God of Ambition. With a blank mind, Astarion stared at it, taking it all in. The long hair, the knowing eyes, the warm smile, the flowy robes. Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, the God of Ambition. No deity had ever answered Astarion's prayers in the two hundred years of torture under Cazador. No deity had ever deemed the high elf turned vampire spawn worthy of their attention or their help. Astarion despised them for it. Would Gale answer to his prayers, he suddenly wondered. Would the God of Ambition, his former tadpole-infected companion, listen to his pleas?

"Start praying or get out," one of the clerics told him angrily - and Astarion laughed maniacally.

The huge marble statue dominated the room, chiselled by the most talented artist of Baldur's Gate. On its round base, purple candles, sweet buns, a couple of books, and a silver chalice with high-quality red wine were placed. Only one last thing was missing.

At the reunion party, Astarion had noticed how much Tara had detested Gale all of a sudden, hissing at him whenever he'd gotten too close to her. Gale had seemed utterly crushed about it. Thus, Astarion had planned to summon a tressym for Gale to lure the God of Ambition to him – or so he told himself.

The vampire lord checked his ritual again. The runes and the circle were right, the candles placed around it, the incantation was in his hand and its pronunciation perfected over the last two months. The potion that allowed him to understand tressym speak had already settled in his stomach. Astarion remembered what Gale had told Tav when he'd showed them how to access the Weave (no, Astarion hadn't been eavesdropping. He'd just been nearby accidentally). He hoped his plan worked.

Astarion lit the candles, tried his best to connect to the Weave, and uttered the spell. The runes started glowing and a breeze wafted through the room.

Please work, the vampire pleaded and repeated the ancient words that sounded foreign even to his old elven ears. Suddenly, a ball of fur popped into existence, dropping right into Astarion's arms.

"Oof, apologies. I'm usually much more graceful," spoke the tressym with a feminine, warm, young-sounding voice.

The vampire laughed and hugged the creature tightly. He'd done it. It had worked! The tressym let out a sound of distress and he finally gave her space to breathe again.

"Apologies, I'm just very excited. I wasn't sure if the ritual would work. I'm not too well-versed in higher magic, you see. My name's Astarion, by the way, and who have I the pleasure to meet?"

The tressym looked up at him and the vampire was met with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. The long, fluffy coat was snow-white and her nose adorably pastel pink. She was stunningly beautiful.

"I'm Kalina. Nice to meet you Astarion. Why did you summon me? Forgive my question, but I'm still young and was never called upon before."

"Oh... well, you see, I –" Astarion paused, suddenly embarrassed and unsure how to phrase his request. The tressym awaited his answer patiently. He sighed deeply. "Look, there are two reasons why I summoned you. Firstly, I'm a vampire lord and I have no desire to create any spawns. I'm alone in this palace and have no one to share it with and I crave intelligent conversations. Secondly, I have - had a friend who was a talented wizard. He lived with a tressym that he adored, but then, he ascended to godhood and his tressym started to hate him for it. Gale seemed sad about it and I.... well, we both are lonely, I suppose. I'll try to call for him, pray to him to meet me once again, and I thought he might be persuade if... you know, if I had someone like you by my side to sweeten the deal a bit."

Astarion hated how he stumbled over his words like a bumbling amateur, but Kalina didn't seem to mind.

"I understand," she snickered amused. "You need me to wrap him around your little finger. To lure your lover back."

"He's not my –"

"Mhm." The tressym smirked as much as a cat can smirked and hopped onto the stone floor. "How about you offer me a nice meal, hm? I'm your guest after all."

At that, Astarion snorted an amused laugh, but guided Kalina towards the staff's kitchen in which he'd already stored a bunch of tressym-friendly food. Just in case.

Kalina decided to stay for a while and help him with his plan to get Gale down to the mortal realms. She turned out to be excellent company and Astarion started to understand why Gale had loved his 'dear old' Tara so much.

Finally, it was time. Astarion kneeled in front of Gale's statue, folded his hands, and closed his eyes reverently.

"Uhm, hello Gale, God of Ambition. It's me, your old friend Astarion. You're probably wondering why I'm praying to you. Funny story actually... If you could spare a moment, I'd like to talk to you after all these years. I'm... well... I'd like to see you again. – Please."

Astarion huffed, irritated about laying his heart bare. He hated it. He opened his eyes and stood up. His prayers were neither heard nor answered, and if they were heard, they were masterfully ignored. Bloody typical. Astarion couldn't prevent an angry snarl forming on his face. With another huff he turned around, stomping towards the door.

"Hello Astarion."

The addressed froze dead in his step, then, he whirled around with a gasp, eyes wide in disbelief. Behind him stood the God of Ambition. His skin shimmering silvery blue, wrapped in a dark purple toga. His eyes glowing with white light. He looked exactly as Astarion remembered him, not having aged a single day.

"Gale," the latter croaked out. He wanted to rush across the room and hug the other man, but his pride stopped him from doing so. Astarion didn't want to seem desperate, weak, and pathetic. Thankfully, Gale acted instead, embracing the vampire warmly. The latter was barely able to keep from sobbing.

"You came," he whispered. "You answered my prayer."

"Of course." The God of Ambition smiled. "It's an honour to be remembered by an old friend who went through the same horrors as I did."

"There's no one else left," Astarion spoke, close to tears. "We're the last ones standing."

Gale sighed, looking sad.

"I'm aware," he nodded. Then he turned around to look at the altar Astarion had made for him. "Impressive. And put up in your home... that's – I'm speechless, really."

Astarion snorted, replying: "I don't think it's possible for you to ever be speechless."

Gale chuckled at that and tasted some of the wine that served as an offering.

"Mmh, what a lovely vintage. Velvety, with a hint of blackberries. Wonderful choice."

The vampire preened. To him, all drinks tasted like vinegar and all foods like ash, thus, he was happy he'd picked the right wine.

"I got something else for you. Well, not something you can own, but... Kalina?"

"Yes?" purred the tressym, slinking through the door.

"Oh!"

Gale's eyes went wide in delight and surprise, a huge smile spreading over his face. Kalina looked at him.

"Ah, the God of Ambition has heard your pleas, I see," she spoke, the amusement audible in her voice. She moved closer to him. "Gale, wasn't it?"

"A tressym," the addressed breathed, ignoring the creature's question. "Oh, and what a beautiful specimen."

He bent down to sweep Kalina off the floor, cradling her close to his chest. She purred happily and rubbed her head against his shoulder.

"Your friend's delightful," said the tressym. "He knows exactly how to scratch my chin just right. You could learn something from him."

Astarion laughed.

"You cheeky thing!"

"Huh?" Gale looked at him confused and seemed flustered. Only now, the vampire realised that the other man thought he'd addressed him. Frowning, he asked: "I used a potion to understand Kalina. I thought you're well-versed in tressym speak."

"Uhm, no," muttered Gale, lowering his gaze. "I enchanted Tara's collar to give her the ability to be understood by everyone. I don't speak tressym."

"Oh..." Astarion was dumbstruck. He hadn't known and had just assumed. "Well, she says she likes you and you have talented hands, darling."

He winked suggestively at the last sentence and swore he could see Gale blush despite his silvery skin. The latter cleared his throat and asked: "Why did you call for me, Astarion?"

"Am I not allowed to wish to speak to an old friend?"

"Of course you are. It's just... unusual. I didn't expect you to call for me. We got along fine, but you never seemed that fond of me. If I remember correctly, you called me annoying at every occasion."

"Tsk, tsk, Astarion," tut-tutted Kalina and the addressed started fidgeting.

"I just -" Words were lost on him. It was so difficult to say the truth. Gale looked at him. Those intelligent eyes boring themselves into Astarion's ruby-red ones and straight down into his soul.

"You're lonely," the God of Ambition stated matter-of-factly.

"So are you," Astarion snapped back, angry that Gale saw right through his façade. "Don't tell me there are parties up there in the Astral Planes? Or did you reunite with your beloved Mystra? Fucking her again, now, that you're finally deemed her equal?"

Gale narrowed his eyes, the air around him suddenly crackled with purple magic. Kalina hissed in surprise and a flare of fear, jumping out of his arms and fleeing the room.

"You're just trying to rile me up because you're mad I struck a nerve," the God of Ambition spoke calmly. Of course, he was right and gods, did Astarion despise it. The latter bristle, putting up his defences.

"Why?" growled the vampire.

"Why what?"

"Why did you answer my prayers?"

"Because it's my duty."

"Ha! Fuck off!" Astarion cackled uglily. "There's not a single god that answers their devotees' prayers! Don't be ridiculous, Gale."

The addressed frowned, his mouth a thin line, visibly miffed.

"Would you prefer it if I say that I came because you deserve to be heard?" he asked then.

Astarion glared at him, his ruby-red eyes full of fiery rage. Baring his fangs, he roared: "Don't you dare! Don't you dare pitying me!"

"I'm not."

"Of course, you are! You always thought you're above me, above everyone else, because you were Mystra's Chosen! You were always haughty, but now that you've reached godhood, you're so much worse! You scolded me for being power-hungry and for ascending, but you did the exact same thing, Gale Dekarios!"

The addressed inhaled sharply, the air around him crackled again. The electricity of the magic made Astarion's hair stand on end.

"Vampire ascension changes a person," Gale replied. "It kills all your feelings. Your soul. You're not yourself anymore, Astarion."

"You know nothing about me!" roared the vampire lord. "I'm no longer a pathetic, scared spawn. I'm finally strong enough to force anyone to their knees and ensure my safety. I no longer have to run and hide."

"But at what cost? Your siblings and seven thousand innocent victims are dead. And so is Tav."

"Don't speak their name! You have no right! They were mine and you kill them!"

"They were a Bhaalspawn, Astarion. They attacked us at the reunion party. I had to save us."

Astarion screamed. His bat wings split the skin and shirt on his back and unfurled to their full glory. Usually, he had himself under control, but apparently not today.

"They were mine! They were my perfect vampire spawn spouse. Mine, forever!" Astarion heaved a breath he technically didn't need to breathe. He felt dizzy and nauseous all of a sudden. With another scream, he collapsed onto the floor. "They were my mad love."

"Astarion..." Gale moved closer, kneeled down beside him and pulled him into an embrace. The vampire sobbed, not remembering when he'd started to cry.

"I'm sorry," whispered the God of Ambition and kissed Astarion's temple.

The latter went very still under him. They had never really touched each other before today and the quick, mindless kiss was definitely unexpected. Something bitter and ugly coiled in Astarion's stomach at the gentle affection he received. He wanted to hurt Gale, to punish him for what he'd done to him and to his beloved spawn.

"I should kill you," Astarion growled viciously. "I should make you pay for what you’ve done."

"Then do it."

The words made the vampire's thoughts come to a screeching halt and he stared up at Gale.

"What?" he whispered.

"Punish me, Astarion."

"No, that was just –"

"Do it. Make me pay for killing Tav. For berating you for your choices. For not being able to save the grove from Tav's bloodlust. For not being able to save Shadowheart, Lae'zel, and Minthara. If you believe I deserve it, then, punish me for failing you and everyone else."

Gale's words stoke the fire of hatred in Astarion again. He felt violent and the wish to hurt the other man grew with every second. The vampire gave in to his urges and grabbed a handful of Gale's hair, yanking his head back painfully, gleeful to see the other man wince.

"You'll regret your words soon enough," sneered Astarion. "You'll wish you haven't left your cosy little spot in the Divine Planes."

He saw Gale swallow thickly, eyes big and nervous, and felt a sick kind of satisfaction. Astarion tugged on the other man's hair again, ordering: "Stay where you are. Don't you dare move."

The vampire stood up and retracted his wings, sneering down at Gale.

"You're exactly where you belong; on your knees. Soon, you'll beg for mercy. – Now, take your clothes off."

The addressed squirmed, but snapped his fingers and his clothes disappeared. Grinning, Astarion traced the branding of the Netherese Orb on Gale's chest with his fingers. The dangerous fracture of ancient Weave was still stuck there, emitting a subtle purple light under the vampire's pale fingers. Now though, with Karsus' Crown and Gale's godhood status, the Orb was permanently stabilised and had become a part of Gale, just like the rest of the ancient magic.

Astarion dug his fingers deep into the silvery blue skin, feeling its warmth and the chest hair. Gale grimaced and hissed at the pain. The vampire revelled in it.

"Look at you," he mocked. "At my feet. What would the other gods say if they knew, eh?"

"I don't care," answered Gale, and strangely enough Astarion believed him.

Suddenly, the vampire smacked him across the cheek with an open palm. The God of Ambition gasped, looking up at him. Shock and surprise written all over his face. Astarion laughed and hit his other side. The sound of skin hitting skin echoed loudly through the room.

"That's not enough," Astarion voiced his sick thoughts. "You need real punishment."

With that, he took a step back to open his belt and free it from his trousers. Gale's eyes widen in realisation. Astarion sneered. He was ill in the head and he knew it. Still, he ordered: "Get up, hold onto the base of your statue, and bend over."

The addressed trembled slightly when he obeyed and hid his face behind his hair as he lowered his head between his shoulders. Astarion stalked closer, sliding his fingers along the leather belt.

"Good," he praised and Gale shuddered slightly.

Interesting... The vampire cracked the belt over Gale's right butt cheek with force, revelling in the sharp cry of pain he coaxed out of the other man.

"Yes. Sing for me, pet."

Another hit, another cry. Astarion grinned, lost in a mixture of rage, arousal, and sick fantasies. Drunk on power. He landed another two blows on each butt cheek before he stopped. Gale was panting elaborately now, arms and legs shaking slightly. Astarion leant forwards and licked up a rivulet of black blood that welled from where Gale's skin had broken. The vampire made a face at the taste. It didn't reek of bile anymore like it had before, but there was something sharp and acrid about Gale's blood.

"You still taste disgusting."

At that, the God of Ambition chuckled lightly.

"Apologies. My body contains even more Netherese magic than before, thus, I'm sure it –"

Gale's reply ended in a yell when Astarion racked his sharp fingernails down his back, leaving bloody trails behind.

"You're still talking too much," the vampire said coldly. "I guess it needs more drastic measures to shut you up."

Astarion pushed Gale back down on his knees again and forced his jaw open with one hand, pressing his thumb into his mouth to pry it open. With the other hand, he freed his dick from his trousers skilfully. Gale's eyes widened in fear, but Astarion couldn't hear his pulse quickening. Actually, he couldn't hear a heartbeat at all.

Right. Gale's a god now. Immortal like me, the vampire realised, slightly bitter about it.

"What? Never sucked a cock before?" he taunted, releasing his grip on Gale's jaw to let him speak.

"Mystra liked to change her form sometimes. Thus, I know how to –"

"Don't speak that bitch's name ever again!" spat Astarion, riled up. "That bitch doesn't deserve to be worshipped nor anything else! Least your attention. She's the reason for your folly."

Surprised, the God of Ambition looked up at him. Oh, how Astarion wished the other's eyes were still as brown and expressive as they’d been before his ascension to godhood.

"I – Apologies. I didn't know it would upset you so much, but you've asked if I had any exp-"

"Shut up and suck me off, pet," Astarion interrupted him harshly, grabbed Gale's jaw again, and shoved his member into the other man's mouth and down his throat. The latter made a choking noise.

"Don't be dramatic. You don't need to breathe anymore," Astarion taunted and the addressed glared up at him. An ugly grin split the vampire's face. "How does it feel, God of Ambition? On your knees and used like a toy by a mere vampire lord. Where are your godly powers now?"

At that, Gale slightly bit down on Astarion's cock as a warning. The latter gripped the god's hair tighter, hissing: "Don't you dare."

To Astarion's surprise, Gale obeyed and his jaw went slack again, letting himself be face-fucked by the vampire who moaned blissfully. Astarion's eyes rolled back in his head as he pushed as deep as he could and spilled down Gale's throat.

"That's it, darling," he groaned. "Take it."

And the God of Ambition moaned as he swallowed the vampire lord's cold seeds. Astarion bit his lip to hold back a whimper. It felt so good. So loving.

He'd tried to find joy in sex again ever since Tav had been killed, but nothing and no one excited him anymore. Everything felt fake and wrong. Either because Astarion forced himself to enjoy it, or because whoever joined him in bed only did so because they were terrified of him or wanted something from him.

It didn't feel fake or wrong now. The only thing that felt wrong was forcing Gale to go along with what he wanted, but Astarion didn't particularly care about that right now. He still panted as he stared at the ceiling of the Szarr palace. The place that once had been his prison, had become his unwelcoming, cold home. Astarion hated it. He blinked slowly before looking down at Gale. A genuine soft smile appeared on the vampire's beautiful face.

"So good for me," he praised and couldn't keep himself from gently running his fingers through Gale's hair. "You can release me now."

That he did. Gasping for air and coughing, Gale looked positively wrecked and Astarion felt smug and almost satisfied, but when the God of Ambition initiated to stand up, the vampire spoke sharply: "I'm not done with you, pet."

The addressed froze.

"Astarion, I think that's quite enough. You had your revenge."

"I decide when it's enough! As I said, I'm not done with you, God of Ambition!"

In a sudden outburst of anger, Astarion backhanded him across the face, sending Gale onto the floor again. Sneering, Astarion placed a foot on the other man's chest and pushed him backwards onto the cold marble floor.

"You took everything from me," growled the vampire lord.

At that, Gale bristled.

"That's not true! You did this to yourself, Astarion! I warned you. I warned you that the ritual would change you and it had. It took away all of your humanity."

"Humanity?!" roared Astarion and cackled. "I'm an elf! I never had any humanity in me in the first place!"

"You know what I mean! Look how cold you're acting now. No more empathy. No more feelings. No more heart. No more love."

Snarling, Astarion bent over Gale, bringing their faces so close together that they felt each other's breaths on their skins when they spoke.

"My heart stopped beating over two hundred years ago when I was turned into a spawn. My heart's long dead – and so is yours now."

Astarion grabbed the other man's thighs and pushed them upwards, purring: "You better use that grease spell on your rear or I'll take you dry."

Gale's shocked, almost terrified, expression wasn't as satisfying as the vampire lord had hoped for.

"Astarion... please..."

"Any time now, Gale!" the addressed snarled, baring his fangs.

The God of Ambition looked hurt now, and even though he was trembling in fear, he muttered the spell.

"What an obedient pet," praised Astarion and pushed all the way into him until he bottomed out.

Gale screamed hoarsely, tears running down his face as he dug his nails into the vampire's shoulders. The latter set a violent pace, revelling in the other man's cries, and started to choke him just for fun. Gale wheezed, gasping for air. He obviously didn't need to breathe anymore, but his brain apparently hadn't gotten the memo yet.

"Astarion... please..." the God of Ambition begged, gulping in ragged breaths and the addressed squeezed his neck just a little tighter for a second to taunt him before releasing him. Gale's eyes rolled for a second as he gulped in lungful’s of air in a panic.

"We're not so different, you and I," sneered Astarion. "We both ascended, became something far more powerful than others could ever dream of. We're both immortals and can inflict terror in anyone. You're as power-hungry and greedy as me, Gale."

"If I... if I could turn back time," the addressed sobbed. "I'd stop you from ascending and I'd return the crown to Mystra. We both lost our humanity, our hearts, and ourselves. We sought power to prove ourselves, but we lost everything dear to us in the process. Now, there's only loneliness for us."

"Shut up!" yelled Astarion and buried his fangs in Gale's neck. His blood was vile and insulting, but also held power, so much power. Pure magic. The vampire wondered briefly if he'd become even more powerful if he'd drain the other man dry, or if the Netherese magic would kill him instead. He didn't care either way.

Gale choked on a sob, but continued talking.

"I'm sorry I failed to save us. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from yourself. I regret it. Forgive me... please."

His body went limp under Astarion, his hands losing their grip on the vampire's shoulders. Almost panicked, the latter, stopped drinking from him to stare at the other man instead. Astarion grabbed Gale's face with both hands, slightly shaking him.

"Don't die! You're a God, you can't die! Don't you dare leave me alone!"

Groaning, the God of Ambition opened his eyes.

" 'm not dying. Just... tired... can't...."

Suddenly, Astarion felt vile and it finally hit him what he'd done. He let go of Gale as if the touch had burned him and slipped his softening dick out of him. The vampire scooted back on his bare arse, horrified of his actions, before bending sideways and retching onto the floor. Gale's black blood was a stark contrast to the white-grey marble floor.

"Ugh..." Astarion groaned miserably and dry-heaved again. "I'm - I'm a monster. Just - just like - Cazador."

His eyes flitted back to Gale who winced as he sat up. All the fight had left the vampire and he trembled now.

"Why?" His eyes spilled over, an ugly sob escaping his throat. "Why did you let me hurt you like this? You're a god, you could have easily overpowered me."

"Because -" Gale wheezed. "Because it seemed like you needed it. You're lonely, sad, and hurt. Let me help you. Let me ease your suffering."

"Gods, you're the worst," Astarion cried and, before he could get cold feet, he crawled back to kiss the God of Ambition. He didn't expect the thrum of magic that zapped through him like lightning, even though he should have. Gale was glowing with old Netherese magic after all. It wasn't unpleasant though, thus, Astarion didn't pull away. Gale moaned – loudly, desperately, wantonly, needy – and deepened their kiss as he wrapped his arms around the vampire's neck. The Orb in his chest started to pulse with purple light, illuminating the cold marbled room. Astonished, Astarion gently stroke the mark with his fingers, hissing at the crackling magic there.

“It - it glows?”

“When - when I’m excited, yes,” Gale panted, slightly bashfully. Then, he added: "I'm - I am too."

"You're what, darling?"

"I'm lonely, sad, and hurt too. I no longer want to be alone. I miss having company I can trust."

"Yes," sobbed Astarion, desperately clinging to Gale's shoulders. "I miss it too. Please, Gale, please don't leave me. Don't go back to the Astral Planes."

"I'm not sure if I'm allowed to stay in the mortal realm, but I want to."

"You're a god. Can't gods do whatever they please?"

Gale sighed, answering: "Not always. It's complicated. But I stay as long as I can and if I must go, I'll come back as soon and for as long as I'm allowed. – If that's what you want."

Astarion nodded hastily.

"Yes, yes, I want that. Please, Gale."

"Yes," answered the God of Ambition simply and the vampire lord kept weeping.

3 months later

Astarion awoke from his reverie to the chirping of sparrows and screeching of seagulls. He stretched lazily under the white sheets, sleepily gazing at the sun-dappled room in Gale's tower in Waterdeep. Next to him, his lover stirred and Astarion turned to look at him. Gale looked ethereal as always. Like Astarion, he didn't need to sleep anymore, but he loved the sentiment of it.

"Good morning, darling."

Smiling softly, the ascended vampire lord stroke the God of Ambition's cheek, marvelling at his soft, long mane and silvery-blue, warm skin yet again.

"Good morning, dear," said Gale, voice husky from sleep.

Astarion leaned over to kiss him gently and Gale hummed happily. The vampire rolled on top of him easily, deepening their kiss while stroking his lover's hair out of his face. For a while they simply kissed, entangling their tongues, while rubbing against each other. When it wasn't enough anymore, Astarion asked: "Darling... may I?"

And Gale nodded, easily parting his legs around the vampire after the latter had pushed away the blankets.

"So gorgeous," praised Astarion before engulfing his lover's erection with his mouth.

Gale sighed blissfully, running his fingers through the vampire's white curls while closing his eyes. The latter stretched out his hand and, with a flick of Gale's wrist, a bottle of oil flew over to him. Astarion caught it easily, pouring some of the oil directly onto his lover's perineum and coating his fingers with it. Then, he started to carefully prepare Gale. Fingers pumping in and out of his hole while sucking him off. The God of Ambition panted and moaned beautifully as the Orb in his chest started pulsating with purple light. It was music to Astarion's ears.

"I'm ready," Gale panted and the vampire looked up at him, mirth sparkling in his ruby-red eyes.

"I don't deem you ready yet, darling," he retorted, basically bent his lover in half, and dove his tongue into him.

Gale almost yelled, clawing the sheets as he let out a string of moans.

"Astarion... Astarion..."

He repeated the name like a prayer and the vampire revelled in it. Gale's fingers tightened in the sheets, his hips spasming.

"Astarion!" he warned, sobbing.

The Orb in his chest started to glow brighter and brighter. The vampire knew his lover was close, thus, he kept going. Gale climaxed with a hoarse shout, spilling his seeds over his own belly and torso, and the light of the Orb exploded, making the god's entire body glow purple, almost as bright as the sun. When the light diminished, Astarion finally let go of Gale, placing one last kiss on his hole. Then, he bent forward and licked up his lover's still warm spent. When he was done, he wiggled his tongue into Gale's mouth to let him taste himself. The latter moaned and kissed back eagerly. Finally, the vampire entered his lover, slowly and carefully.

"You're so beautiful," he praised, gazing at the man beneath him through half-lidded eyes.

The God of Ambition blushed, intertwining their fingers.

"So are you," he whispered.

They kissed again, deeply but tenderly, as they made love (yes, love. They weren't fucking). Gale moaned blissfully and Astarion let out a harsh breath every time he bottomed out and his eyes threatened to roll back in his head. The vampire licked his lover's sweaty neck before biting down gently and drinking his vile but oh-so addictive blood.

"I love you," mewled Gale, throwing his head back on the pillow, and, with a loud moan, Astarion reached his high, spilling into his lover. Even through his closed eyelids, he could see how Gale emanated purple light once more. The vampire collapsed onto the God of Ambition, removed his fangs and licked the wounds until they stopped bleeding. With a deep sigh, he placed his head on Gale's shoulder.

"I love you too," he whispered.

He's content when the other man wrapped an arm around him and held him close. They dwelled like this for a while, recharging.

"I want to stay like this forever," revealed Astarion, slightly bashful.

Gale smiled, tenderly stroking the scars on his lover's back.

"Well, technically, we can," he answered teasingly and the vampire snickered.

"Yoo-hoo, Astarion, Gale!" lilted Kalina as she scuttled through the doorway and jumped up onto the bed. "Good morning, lovebirds. May I remind you that I am neither a god nor a vampire and need real substance to survive. It's already elven o'clock!"

The men chuckled amused and Astarion replied: "Of course, Kalina. We're very sorry that we forgot the time. I'll feed you right away."

With a happy purr, the tressym hopped off the bed and rushed towards the door.

"Ah, one more thing." She turned around to look at the pair with her pretty blue eyes. "I've spoken to Mrs. Dekarios and Tara and they've both agreed to visit you tomorrow."

"Really?"

Gale smiled broadly and happily. These were the moments Astarion missed his lover's human form. He'd always had such beautiful, expressive, warm, brown eyes. Now, they were simply two pools of bright, white light.

Kalina nodded.

"They're compliant on the condition that you'll meet up regularly and behave decently. No ascended, godlike behaviour and such."

"That can be arranged," Gale replied, smiling fondly.

Astarion simply nodded.

"Wonderful," the tressym purred. "And now that that's settled, I'd like my very plentiful brunch, if you'd be so kind."

Barking an amused laugh, Astarion swung out of bed, put on one of Gale's robes, and followed Kalina to the kitchen. The God of Ambition got up too, walking to the window in his birthday suit, and watched how the wheels of time and life spun.

'Fate spins along as it should' Withers had said, and he'd been right.

With a deep sigh, Gale gazed at the sea.

If I could turn back time, I would, and I'd change so many things, he thought woefully. But it's impossible and we must live with our decisions.

He smiled when Astarion wrapped his arms around his middle from behind, kissed his shoulder, and muttered: "Come back to bed, darling. I want to ride you until the sun goes down."

Even though our fates seemed dark, we've found the few specks of light in the darkness, the God of Ambition thought as he was led back to bed by his ascended vampiric lover.

Over the past three months, they'd realised that they both were still capable to feel and to love. Their true selves still existed, underneath all the power and ascension. The men clung to them more consciously now, not willing to let go of their humanity, hearts, and souls. It was a wonderful revelation.

Astarion and Gale would live forever, but they'd also love each other forever.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #astarion x gale #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #oc #original character #Kalina the tressym #smut #non con #mind the trigger warning

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fanartfic · 8 months

Text

Safe and Sound

The companions return to Baldur's Gate for a well earned rest, but it's proving difficult for one of the company to rest easy.

TW: blood, angst, but mostly fluff and cuddles!

The return to Elfsong was a happy one indeed. Karlach burst open the doors and pronounced for whole tavern to hear:

“Hey guys! We got Halsin back, and the Bhaalspawn’s dead!”

The rest of the group came into the inn in triumph as the others surrounded Halsin, overjoyed that their Druid had been returned to them. Jaheira even came up and gave him a pat on the back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°¥°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tavya hung back and winced, grasping at her side. Orin had managed one last parting shot before she had beheaded her, and had dug her dagger deep into Tav’s ribs. She pressed her hand to the spot and pulled it away, hissing when she saw it was slick with blood.

She looked over at Halsin, who was smiling and drinking a mead with the others. A rare occurrence for the druid who rarely imbibed.

Tav smiled softly.

He was safe. She hadn’t lost him.

She wasn't sure what would have happened if she had. She brushed the thought aside as she made her way to the stairs. As she entered the room everyone shared, she decided a bath was in order. At least then, she could get a good look at the wound in her side, and scrub herself clean of the caked on blood that their quick dip in the Chionthar hadn’t washed off.

As she gingerly stripped off her armor, she heard the door open, and soft, but heavy footsteps walked into the room.

“Tavya? Are you alright?”

It was Halsin. He had followed her upstairs after noticing her absence.

Tav hurriedly lowered her shirt. “Oh, um. Yes, I’m alright.”

Halsin came around the corner and paused at the sight.

Tav’s shirt, which used to be a cream color, was almost completely red on one side. Concern immediately clouded over his face as he rushed over to her, his hands already glowing with healing magic.

“Halsin, I-” Tav began.

“Be still, this wound is deep. I’m surprised you still had the strength to walk all the way back here.” Halsin laid a heavy hand on Tav’s side as a blue light emanated from his palm, focusing on her wound. The pain lessened, and Halsin lifted up her shirt just enough to show that the wound had indeed closed.

“Why did you not say anything?” Halsin scolded her, as he checked her over for any other injuries. He began healing the deep slash on her arm that had begun to bleed again.

“We were out of spells and potions, and I didn’t know what condition you were in,” Tav explained, shaking herself free from Halsin’s scrutiny.

“This was a serious wound Tav, it could have gotten infected, festered.”

“Alright! Alright. . . I’m sorry.” Tav cried out in frustration. “I was worried about you! I was worried you weren’t well enough.”

Halsin paused, “What do you mean?”

Tav sighed heavily and slumped down onto her bed. “Orin had impersonated you. . . She said a few things that would make sense, given your aversion to the city,”

“What things?” Halsin sat down next to her.

“That the city was corrupting you, hurting you, making you sick.” Tav rubbed her face in her hands. “I was worried that at least that part of the deception was true.”

She looked up when she found one of her hands in Halsin’s.

“It is true, this city wears heavily on me, and it’s corruption threatens to beat me down every single day. But I promise you, I won’t allow it to.” He said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I promised I’d help you with your parasite, and I intend to remain at your side.”

“None of this is worth it if it kills you,” Tav placed her other hand on top of his. “The rest of us are fine in the city, but if you need to leave-

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere, Tavya.”

Halsin pulled her into his chest and rested his chin on top of her head. Tav held on to his arms and sighed.

“Alright, a compromise then.” She said, after releasing herself from his grasp. “We’ll leave the inn and camp outside of Rivington. It’s close enough for us to walk into the city to take care of what we need to handle, but far enough removed that you won’t be beaten down as much. Can you do that for me, at least?”

Halsin sighed in resignation.

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Good, now go join the others. They all wish to celebrate with you,” Tav stood up and urged Halsin out of the room.

“What about you?”

Tav paused, with her hand on the door. “I’m going to wash up. I’ll be down in a little bit.”

She gave Halsin one last smile and then closed the door. She rested her forehead against the wood and sighed heavily. She peered through the crack in the planks when she heard a light thud, and another sigh from the other side.

I can’t. Not just yet. She thought, as she headed towards a washbasin. She dunked her head into the cold water and looked up into the mirror in front of her, her face dripping wet. The cut on her face, though healed by Halsin, still left a faint scar on her skin. But I could be dead tomorrow. . .and I want another chance to be happy. Terryn would want that for me.

She scrubbed her face clean and dried off with a towel, moving to fill the nearby tub. As the water ran from the valve, she grabbed some fragrant soap from her bag, a blend she used to clean her hair. She took a sniff of it and sighed.

Mint and Rosemary, Terryn had loved that scent in her hair. As she breathed it in she felt a pang rise in her chest.

No, it was time for something new.

She dug into her bag again, and pulled out another bar that she had bought in the market earlier that ten-day. She took in its scent and appreciated the warmth it reminded her of. Citrus and Cloves. Scents she had loved as a child.

All the thoughts swirling in her head would have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, she just wanted to be clean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{•§•}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tavya ended up not keeping her word to join the others. She was exhausted, both in mind and body. She had already fallen into a deep meditation by the time the others had returned to the room. She was vaguely aware of Halsin coming over to check on her before the lights were dimmed completely.

She rose several hours later to the sounds of someone in distress. She sat up and looked around the darkened room.

Everyone seemed to be resting peacefully, the only bunk she couldn’t see was Halsin’s. She got up and peeked around the corner so she could see him more clearly.

His blankets were rumpled and on the floor, and he tossed back and forth, sweat beading on his brow. He muttered in his meditation, and struck out at an invisible foe.

He was having a nightmare. Tav lit a candle and made her way over to him. She dodging a punch that swung out wildly at her.

“Easy! Halsin! Halsin wake up!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Wake up!”

Halsin’s eyes flew open as he startled awake, lashing out with his fist as he let out a cry of panic. Tav barely got a defense up in time to redirect the punch to the side of her head as she turned, bracing with her other hand on his forearm.

“Easy, you’re alright, you’re safe!” She grabbed a hold of his arm and brought his hand down in front of her, clasping it in hers, the other cupping his face, forcing him to look at her. “You’re safe.”

Halsin’s eyes, wide and wild with a golden glow that usually showed just before he wild-shaped, began to calm down, steadying his breath as he timed his breathing with Tav’s. He looked at her with concern as he swung his feet from the bed.

“Oak Father save us, I am so sorry! I nearly struck you.”

“It’s alright,”

“No, it’s not alright, I lost control. I should have more restraint as an arch-.”

“You were having a nightmare, Halsin. It is alright.” Tav interrupted him and sat down on the bed next to him. “If I recall, I nearly punched you one time myself.”

Halsin rubbed his forehead as he cleared the fog from his thoughts. “Yes, I remember.”

“You helped me then,” Tav rested a hand on his shoulder. “Halsin, let me help you.”

Halsin let out a sigh, a long and tired sigh, then reached up a hand to cover hers. Tav scooted closer to him, wrapping her arm around his back, or at least, as far as she could reach across his broad shoulders.

“You know, most people see me and think I cannot be hurt.” Halsin began, keeping his voice low so as to not wake the others. “They see someone of my size and believe it near impossible.”

“Well, anyone can be hurt. It doesn't matter what size they are.” Tav shrugged.

“You seem to be the only one who can see that.”

Tav looked up at Halsin’s face. In the candlelight he showed more of his age, as the lines of worry and care were deepened by the flickering light and shadows.

“I don't believe that's true.” She said. “The others care about you too. They just show it differently.”

She rubbed his back with light pressure from her palm until she began to feel his muscles relax under her touch. He had been tense before, guarded. He had even flinched when she had put her arm around him.

“Halsin. . . Are you alright?. . .I mean. . . Really alright?”

Halsin let out a breath that he had been holding. “No, I do not believe I am.”

Tav turned to face him more, giving him her undivided attention. “What’s wrong?”

Halsin hesitated a moment. “I. . .I did not think anyone was coming for me. I fell into such despair, that when darkness came over me. . . I welcomed it.”

“Halsin, come now, what made you think that?” Tav took his hand in hers.

“Because you were the first to come for me in a very, very long time. . .I believed myself lost, and that no one was looking for me.” He squeezed Tav’s hand and leaned over until his forehead rested on hers. “Then I heard your voice, and I thought it was a dream, until I awoke and found myself in your arms.”

He looked into Tav’s eyes. “Tav, I. . . No one has ever come to find me, or come to my aid before. Not since before the curse, not until you came along. You, who aided me as a bear without knowing if I would harm you; welcomed me to your camp with open arms; offered me your friendship freely, without terms; and treated me as an equal. All things I have been without for over a century.”

Tav reached up and cupped his face in her palm. “So, is that why you sounded so surprised to see me when you woke?”

Halsin merely nodded, somewhat ashamed.

“Halsin. Even in the short time we have traveled together, you have become a true friend and ally. I trust you with my life, and you know you can trust me with yours.” Tav said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a comforting hug. “I’ll always be here for you.”

She felt Halsin’s weight as he relaxed into her shoulder.

“Thank you, Tavya.” He said quietly, his voice catching a little as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Anytime, my friend.” Tavya replied, rubbing his back again.

Halsin gave her one last squeeze before reluctantly letting Tav go. He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes.

“Oak Father preserve us, it must be dusty in here.”

Tav let out a short laugh. “Yes, very dusty.” She said, standing to her feet. “You need to rest.” Tav bent down and retrieved his blanket from the floor. “Goodnight, Halsin.”

Halsin took hold of the blanket, letting his hand linger on Tav’s fingers. As she turned to head back to her bunk, he held on, pulling her back towards him.

Tav gave him a questioning look as Halsin looked up at her, taking her other hand in his.

“Stay with me, please?.” he asked softly. “I– I do not wish to be alone.”

Tav felt her heart flutter a little. Halsin had never been this vulnerable with her before, even in the temple of Bhaal. She freed one of her hands and brushed a strand of stray hair behind his ear. Halsin closed his eyes and leaned into her palm, as she cupped his cheek in her hand.

“Alright, scoot over,”

Halsin didn't need to be told twice as he made room on the bed for her. Tav fluffed up a pillow and hopped in, sitting propped up. She opened up her arms to Halsin.

“Come on,” she invited.

Halsin shifted his body down until he could slide an arm behind Tav’s back, then rested his head on her chest, just above her heart.

He could hear it fluttering in her breast. His own heartbeat quickened as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

“Is this alright?” Tav asked.

“Hmm. This is. . . Perfect.” Halsin replied.

Tav shifted slightly to get more comfortable, her embrace not wavering in the slightest as she gently pulled the tie out of his hair to loose his locks, scratching at his scalp. Halsin moaned in appreciation as he tightened his arms around Tavya. She steadied her breathing to a constant rhythm, hoping it would help the druid rest peacefully.

“I'm sorry. . .” She said at length.

“Whatever for?”

“For not seeing Orin’s deception sooner. Gods, it was six days you were trapped with her.”

Halsin tilted his chin up to look at her. “That is no fault of yours. I had become absorbed in what I was doing in Rivington, and you were focused on the Absolute.”

“That is no excuse.”

“No, but it is good reason.” Halsin took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles before nuzzling back down into her.

“I do not hold you at fault for what happened. You were my savior once again, after all.”

Tav rested her cheek on the top of his head.

“You give me too much credit,” she said. “We only survived that fight because we all worked together. You should make sure to thank Karlach, Lae’Zel, and Shadowheart.”

“Be certain that I did,” Halsin assured her.

They sat in silence for a while as Tav ran her fingers gently through his hair, easing out the tangles and his braids, which had gotten messy in his imprisonment.

“You know, it takes me some time to do those,” Halsin muttered into Tav’s shirt.

“Don't worry. I’ll redo them in the morning.” Tav replied quietly, placing another kiss on the top of his head. “Now rest, and know that I'm watching over you.”

Halsin hummed and began to relax. Tav felt his weight against her body as he fell into a peaceful meditation.

Tav remained awake, watching over him as she promised. The arm that was looped over her torso shifted as Halsin moved his hand to rest in her chest.

Tav covered his hand with her own, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I will always be with you. . . My heart.” She whispered with one last kiss on his forehead

#fanfic #baldurs gate tav #my tav #baldur’s gate fanfiction #bg3 halsin #halsin x tav #i might be obsessed #I think elves can meditate in whatever position they want #I also think nightmares are really vivid for elves #Halsin loves cuddles #come on he’s a teddy bear #not my best illustration but I love it so much #illustration #character art #halsin x tav fluff #Halsin fluff

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valkyrie1366669 · 3 months

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Gwynn looks at Halsin with a raised brow. "So why were ya by yourself? You were the one that said to stick close together."

"Same reason as you two..." He drifts off before getting a drink of water. Ignoring the grumble of his stomach at the moment. "Where I respect your decision on who should know. That is your right regardless of what some may think upon it. It did make me uncomfortable and bother me with their reactions. Half of them talk about various ways to maim someone like you. Isn't something I'd care to listen to. While the other half talked about people like you as if you were a specimen that needed to be contained and studied. I didn't listen to most of it anyway. But it was tiring all the same."

"I'm surprised you are not back at camp." Astarion states before Gwynn can ask a question.

Halsin sighs. "Not that I do not trust the people at camp and I'd like to say nothing would happen. It didn't feel right to leave you two alone after that. Not to mention doppelgangers everywhere. I'd rather you both not have a reason to not trust me. Though it is difficult, I'd prefer to avoid conflict or have one if not both of you try to kill me."

"Fair. I wouldn't hesitate."

"I wouldn't kill you." Gwynn answered while rubied hues glared daggers at her.

"Adorable, but untrue love. I've had to tie you up multiple times so you wouldn't kill me." Astarion chuffs mostly in a teasing manner.

"Sorry..." Her voice suddenly got a lot quieter. She was trying to keep her urges down, but nightmares and everything else in her muddled mind made it hard.

"It's alright. We're even." He pulls her in close to ease her troubles and kisses the top of her head. Usually worked on him when she did that. Why not try it? Not like he intended to upset her more. He's lost count of how many times he's almost killed her by taking too much blood. Getting lost in sanguine hunger and intoxication of her savory blood.

"If you do not mind me asking. And it doesn't have to be answered, I'm not versed in Bhaalspawn and their urges. But what are triggers that you know of? Would that even help?"

'Slice their pretty throats. It'd be a full-course meal.' A female voice whispers in her mind.

Gwynnistri stops walking to think for a moment. Trying to figure out what usually caused the increased dark thoughts and voices. It was hard to pinpoint but there was a few common occurrences that she noticed over time. "...Whenever I try to remember a particular memory it seems to be the worst. It's been driving me mad for months as it feels so close to it, but my holed brain refuses. That's beyond the tadpole and probably the Urges too."

The Druid nods in acknowledgment. Not wanting to press anymore from how frigid her body got as she confessed that. Poor lass. She and some of the others were often in his prayers. Just some people more than others. "What calms you down typically."

She chuckles and takes a goblet of ale to drink from a cart. "Besides time and me questioning my sanity and having constant chills. I have things worth staying around and wanting to fight. I think I had that once, long ago while I was a young psycho-killer. I know I loved it before the crash, but it was faint and brief. Or perhaps too far gone and will never recover those memories." She scoffs to herself mostly out of annoyed acceptance. But getting a bowl of poutine with chicken was helping her mood. Cliche as it sounds, I like hope out of everything. No matter how grim and slim me situation is. I like hope and that's what keeps me fighting."

Halsin has always been a good consul to her, but better knowing her heritage and demons now. Lately, this vintage Arch Druid has been more of a student. He and everyone at the camp were always curious and listened intently to the Blood explain what she remembers of her culture and the Circle of Blood. Her dimples always shone brightly when she talked about it. Often debunking myths and rumors about her Circle. It was a taboo circle, he'd admit that. But the principles seemed to care more about the natural balance of life and death. It had surprised both him and the pale High Elf how her order often helped reformed vampires and dhampirs were frequently Rangers. Even told the tale of how one of her exes was a female Drow dhampir.

Besides the history and culture lessons, He found himself appreciating her views. A major difference in comparison to those at the Grove. He appreciated them, but they were mostly like sheep in terms of thinking. Always thought things were black and white when nature was any but. True she did kill people, but she even admitted that months ago she had these demons. He believed her then and took it seriously as not many would confess such things. Let alone to a First Druid they just met. Her face looked relieved that he was actually listening. Didn't understand it at the time, but it was clearer now. She didn't have anyone and kept it to herself for the most part. Mostly as she wanted answers before saying anything. How could you explain murderous uncontrolled urges if you do not have the proof?

#astarion #dark urge #druid #ao3 #halsin #halstarion #bg3 halsin #fanfic #astarion ancunin #halsin silverbough #bloodoak #bloodbear #bloodhoney #lgbtq #pansexual

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cactusringed · 11 months

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IM asking you to ramble about bg3 au and autism blast everywhere. and makeout and how sexy and funny you are.

I love you both so much our wedding is coming soon

Anyway OK listen. Listen to me okay Bg3 refers to baldurs gate 3 and for all you need to know it's a dnd video game where the characters get infected with literal brain worms which should have turned them into murderous cultists, but somehow they got spared that fate, and come together to get rid of their brain worms

The party is made of

Grian: a gnome druid whose preferred wild shape is a bird and who might have some hidden aasimar origins because Grian HAS to be God's favorite princess all the time

Scar: an elf ranger who was torn away from his family when he was kidnapped by illithids, and whose closest bro Cub (a warlock who's made a pact with archfaes) was also infected but sadly was turned into a cultist. Scar is desperately looking for him.

Scott: a tiefling bard/sorcerer who does most of the group's talking with npcs both due to his travels making him the more knowledgeable of the group about the region but also because as a bard you can do wild shit like just convince really powerful entities to just kill themselves for fun and that's a very Scott thing to do

Mumbo: a half drow artificer who tbh is the most normal of the group (as far as everyone knows anyway)

Jimmy: half aarakocra (bird :D) vampire cringefail rogue who. Well yeah he's a stand in for astarion me and my friend just wanted a cringefail vampire with negative charisma ok

Joel: A half elf barbarian who has a little secret. The secret is that he's a murderous bastard. But like in the most literal sense of the word

Joel's role specifically has me so mentally ill. Okay. So like. You need a teensy bit of lore for this ok and this will include spoilers for baldy gate 3 if the 2.5 people who read this far intend to play the viddy game well stop reading but still kiss me on the mouth.

So the Lore has many gods and the gods are just real tangible all powerful beings. Much like with Greek mythos, you following a specific god isn't because you only believe in that God, but because you're most devoted to them. Well that's how I see it anyway. And there are three gods associated with death and evil (it's more complicated than that in my hc but we don't have time). One of them is Bhaal. And Bhaal, get this, is the most metal fucking fictional god I've seen because he's the god of MURDER.

Something something he had to give birth to people called Bhaalspawn for some reason who are his direct children and carry a piece of him within them or something (Bg/dnd superfans don't come at me) and it's all part of his grand plan to take over the world. WHATEVER

But Joel IS a bhaalspawn. And he was Bhaal's specialest most favorite bhaalspawn. And now, okay, the thing about bhaalspawns is that they're not actually inherently evil, but they do carry that part of Bhaal within them - his will, and his potential for power. Some Bhaalspawn are raised specifically to be daddy's best little murderers and of course that's how Joel was brought up.

He was examplary because he was trained to be. He was capable of some of the most rancid bloodshed because it was what he was taught, and rewarded for. He was created to be murder incarnate, so any other emotions (love, empathy, etc) were shunned until Joel was either incapable of it, or refused to show it.

Except something happened. He got betrayed, usurped, and infected with the aforementioned brainworms which led to his memory loss. What did remain, even as he escaped the ship keeping him captive, even as he joined up with other infected survivors, was... A primal need. Like it was coded in his DNA, like it was in his blood itself: he had a need to kill. Not just kill, but spread misery, spread pain, and acquire power at any cost. He mostly unleashes those urges onto his enemies, but it never feels like enough. Like a scratch he can't quite itch. Of course, that's all Bhaal trying to reel him back in, Bhaal trying to reclaim him.

But like clockwork - because such ingrained training doesn't go away no matter how much one thinks they forgot - he finds himself relishing in it. In the violence of it all. The only time he feels truly alive is when he's covered in blood and gut.

... That is, until he finds himself growing closer and closer to Jimmy. After a night where Jimmy, desperately trying to hide his very obvious identity as a vampire but also desperately hungry, tries to feed off of Joel, and reveals his secret... Well, Joel had all rights to kill him right then and there. He reasons that there's no fun in killing someone so helpless but in truth there's something a bit charming about Jimmy. He's earnest, and he's just so... Not exactly innocent, but also sort of? He gives Joel to urge to protect him. To hold him so tight and close as to choke him. But in a sweet way. Probably.

Joel won't be able to put it into words for a long while yet, half because he refuses to let himself feel such things because he's so horrifically repressed. He was the only one at camp who didn't even guess Jimmy was a vampire before the big reveal because he's got negative int and wis (his strategy in battle is just hit things hard before they can hit you and honestly it works most of the time) so he'd just never noticed the obvious signs. Anyway. Because his blood is the tastiest and somehow he's one of the companions who acts the least weird about it, which really says a lot, Jimmy ends up mostly feeding off of him. And, well, something about letting your homie regularly suck blood out of your neck is bound to lead to something more. Joel becomes a bit possessive of his little birdie.

When Joel learns that he's Bhaal's special little princess, in truth he's fucking elated, because he spends weeks torturing himself in an attempt to remember who he is, what he's doing, what's wrong with him - and he's finally afforded answers. He leans fully into it. He's so happy to serve his God with bloodshed.

Until he's faced with him. With Bhaal. And after Joel committed countless atrocities (which the rest of their group didn't mind that much as lokgi as they stayed in the clear. They're all bad people) bhaal asks him to shed one last bit of blood before receiving his blessing, before becoming his chosen, he who will enact the murder God's plans. He needs to get rid of his pesky earthly desires and affections. They have no place within murder incarnate. He asks Joel to flat out kill Jimmy or die right here and then.

You'd think Joel would hesitate with how intensely pro-Bhaal he is. You'd think it would be a difficult decision. Jimmy would have thought too. Except that Joel's response is instant and intense. He tells Bhaal to go literally fuck himself, that he'd rather kill every last Bhaalspawn and make sure his bloodline ends with him, rather than lay a finger on Jimmy. Jimmy, whose helped his heavy heart feel so light and free. Jimmy, who makes him feel true warmth. Jimmy, who makes Joel want to appreciate every sunset, every breeze, every breath of fresh air. Jimmy, who treats Joel as so much more than a bloodthirsty beast.

Joel never thought he would want to be anything more than a bloodthirsty beast.

So of course Bhaal kills him because he's literally a god. Right in front of Jimmy. (there's plot and dnd magic that brings him back but it's definitely the culmination of his arc; that Joel, groomed to become murder incarnate, was given an opportunity to find another meaning to his life)

Also they have CRAZY sex

#Me and my buddy have been very autistic to each other abt this au I needed to scream #I wish I had more time and energy to draw I wld draw am #I'm so fucking unwell #Long post <3 #Also I realise it feels like a 'character a gets saved by luv uwu' and. Well #Sometimes u do just rly need to be loved yeah

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