#jealous astarion

[a-case-of-attachment]

Astarion didn’t get jealous.

Scared and lonely? Well yes, of course he did. He even felt angry and vengeful as well but when one considers the life he had been forced to live up until his involuntary relocation to the nautiloid you could hardly blame him for feeling those things.

He couldn’t really remember being jealous of anyone or anything in the short years he had lived before being turned. Then again, he couldn’t really remember much from then at all. Not how he looked, his mother’s name or even if there had been someone for him to love and cherish. Everything important was gone, like it had been swallowed up by a dense fog and no matter how much he search all he ever found was more nothingness. Hardly a good reference point when trying to remember if you had experienced something before or were just familiar with the concept from books.

It was possible he had once been jealous of Cazador’s chosen few. The favourites that had gotten to rest in actual beds and spared the crueller torments that often befell the spawn. Not forced to lay on the cold and unforgiving floor, surrounded by rotting rat carcasses and the smell of fresh and old spawn blood so thick in the air that it felt like he was choking on the stuff.

Maybe that had been jealousy, but Astarion thought it had been more spiteful envy. More angry and covetous of the reprieve then jealous of the attention the favoured few got. He didn’t want to be one of those pathetic, snivelling devotees that scurried around behind Cazador like roaches, blinded by their idiotic belief that all the pain and suffering meant something. That there would be a worthwhile reward at the end of it all. No, all Astarion had wanted was to be treated with just a shred of common decency. Something that he had been denied until he had been fortunate enough to find you after the crash.

So yes, Astarion was sure that he had never been jealous before yet here he was, most certain that as he stared across the fire of their ever-growing camp that was exactly what he was feeling.

You and Gale were huddled close together just outside his tent, heads leaning towards the other and whispering as you both poured over the pages of whatever spell book the wizard had pilfered from the bandit camp, they had raided just that morn. You were smiling, laughing as the idiotic man waved his free hand about, clearly regaling you with a tale that he was heavily embellishing if not outright lying about. You seemed to be enjoying it though, encouraging him with your sweet laughter and wide smiles even as you shook your head in disbelief.

Normally Astarion wouldn’t care if you were feeling gracious and decided to bestow one of your ever hopeful companions with your attention. Astarion was always the one you went too first when arriving back at camp. He was always the one whose flirtations you returned and the only one in their camp of weirdos and misfits who could say they had seen you naked and on more than one occasion at that. He was the one who’s attention you sought. The one you always made time for. Him. Not anyone else…normally but tonight wasn’t like normal because tonight when Astarion had approached you, all charming smiles and quick wit you had done the unthinkable and he had been left staring after you in shock and disbelief like a complete idiot because tonight, you had said no.

Now, don’t misunderstand, you were allowed to say no. He wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t force you into anything you didn’t want like he had been. Sure, there had been a playful back and forth a time or two. You like to tease him as much as he did you, playing hard to get and making him work for every stollen moment and mouthful of liquid gold that ran through your veins, but it had been playful, done with a teasing smirk and eyes full of promise. Astarion had known that with the right word, the perfect brush of fingers and a well-timed appreciative once over that you would be putty in his hands, willing and open to his advances and what that would lead to. You had never outright said no to him before and for Gale for god’s sake.

Had you maybe hit your head on their last little adventure, and no one had noticed. Perhaps you might even be under some sort of spell or enchantment. Whatever it was there had to be some sort of explanation for this, this madness because there was no logical reason as why you would suddenly up and abandon him for Gale of bloody Waterdeep.

You laughed again, louder this time. Your smile wide and eyes practically glowing with it. Astarion’s mood darkened even more, his eyebrows furrowing as his scowl deepened. Honestly, what in the hells could be so funny about the dull drivel Gale passed off as story’s of his adventures? If you wanted a story, then Astarion could spin you a tale so grand and fanciful that whatever rubbish Gale was regaling you with would look like a child’s bedtime story.

Huffing he turned away, his grip on the book he had been pretending to read for the better part of an hour tightening as yours and Gale's laughter mingled in the air like wine and vinegar. He was not jealous. He wasn’t. He just didn’t like Gale’s barking bellow he called a laugh mixing with your melodic and light one. Really, he would be doing everyone a favour if he went over there and stole you away. It wouldn’t mean anything. Wouldn’t mean that Astarion was hurt and angry that you would want to spend time with Gale instead of him. You were free to do whatever you wanted. He wasn’t your keeper, and you were more than capable of making decisions for yourself even if those choices were clearly wrong.

Astarion’s eyes narrowed as he watched Gale subtly move closer to you, using the small spell book he had suddenly pulled from his pocket as a rather poor excuse to draw you in. The two of you were so close now that a leaf would barely fit between you. He couldn’t see what Gale was showing you anymore but what he could see was how Gale was looking at you. His head was turned towards you, his eyes soft and full of longing as his voice dropped into something gentle, smoother. You seemed oblivious to the shift in tone, your eyes and attention fixed on the book between you, but Astarion could see it all. Gale was a man in love and longing, looking at you like you were the most breathtaking piece of art and the first drop of rain after a drought. It was uncomfortable to watch what Gale probably intend to be a private moment and it made something squirm and tighten in Astarion’s stomach.

Everyone knew that Gale had romantic feelings for you, well, everyone except you but you didn’t seem to notice that almost everyone in their weird little group wanted you in one way or another. Astarion was sure that at least three of the others were halfway in love with you and those that weren’t coveted your body. Gale though, he was the one who had fallen hardest, his feelings as clear as if he had spelt them out with fireworks in the midnight sky.

Astarion had been so smug at first when you had started to favour his company over everyone else’s. He had been able to see the wizard’s heartache and longing, but he had scoffed at the foolish man’s feelings, making a grand show of whisking you off to his tent or other less crowded parts of the camp so he could have you all to himself. It had been a heady rush to have all your attention on him, to become the sole focus of someone who wasn’t expecting him to take his clothes off and seemed to genuinely enjoy his quick wit and rather scathing comments.

He had taken a rather perverse joy in calling you darling and seeing Gale scowl as you smiled ever so sweetly at Astarion. He had been so free with his touch, everything from a simple brush down after a fight to cupping your jaw or brushing his fingers gently across your cheek. He was the only one you allowed to touch you so openly, practically inviting him to lay a hand on you whether that be the small of your back, the inside of your thigh or even your hand, your fingers laced together. Gale had seen it all and Astarion had thought the wizard had understood that you were off limits to the likes of him, but the fool had apparently not given up hope and thought to worm his way into your good graces with made up stories of grandeur and whispered spells.

You turned your head towards him, a question on your lips that quickly vanished as your eyes widened, finally realising how close Gale had gotten whilst your attention was elsewhere. Time seemed to slow then, the world around him falling silent as everything else fell away apart for the two people in front of him.

Gale’s eyes fell from your eyes down to your slightly parted lips. His tongue slowly wetting his lips and giving them a slight shine. His eyes went back to yours, a flicker of uncertainty dancing through them before determination set in. He shifted, the dull thump of the forgotten book hitting the floor not enough to break the intense staring the two of you were doing. Your breath hitched, eyes widening impossibly more as you and Astarion both seemed to realise what was about to happen at the same time.

Astarion had never moved so quickly in his life before.

One second, he had been sat across the other side of the camp, book open but forgotten in his lap as he watched you light up for Gale and the next, he was up and across the space before the book even had time to fall closed. His fingers curled around your arm, and he yanked you rather violently onto your feet and away from the wizards’ searching lips. “Ahh!” Your surprised cry was loud, most likely drawing the others attention but Astarion barely even heard it, his eyes fixed on Gale who had jerked back at your sudden disappearance.

“There you are my darling.” Astarion smiled brightly, his voice loud and cheerful as he spoke over your stuttering indignation at having been so roughly handled. Gale was glaring back at him now, hands curled into fists on his thighs and practically vibrating with anger. Though he supposed it could always be the magic he was always consuming to keep from blowing himself and more importantly them up. It could be quite hard to tell sometimes and Astarion didn’t care enough about the other man to actually bother to work it out. All he knew was that he had to get you away from him before Gale got another one of his disastrously good ideas and tried to make yet another attempt on your lips. “So sorry to break up this little,” Astarion slowly dragged his eyes over Gale, hardly able to keep the sneer out of his voice, “dalliance but there is something I need your assistance with love.” He didn’t wait for an answer from either of them, spinning on his heels and dragging you along behind him. “Astarion!” you hissed in a mix of annoyance and disbelief, but you didn’t stop him, didn’t even try and break free of his hold, just letting him quickly lead you across the small camp and towards the tree line.

Now with a part two!!

[moonselune]

Hey! Could you write something about jealous Gale, Wyll and Astarion, please? 💕 (Thank you!!)

jealous jealous boyyyyyyy I loved this so muchhhhhhh jealous prompts just make my brain go brrrrrr

Gale:

You had always admired Gale's prowess with magic. His spells were elegant, his incantations precise. Yet, on this particular day, as you walked through the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, a different mage approached you, offering to teach you a new spell.

"Allow me," the mage said smoothly, his eyes lingering on you with more interest than was purely professional.

You hesitated, intrigued by the promise of new knowledge. Gale, walking beside you, stiffened noticeably. His jaw clenched as he watched the mage perform a simple cantrip, showing off a minor illusion with a flourish.

After the mage walked away, leaving you with a scroll and a promise to meet again, Gale turned to you, his eyes dark with barely restrained jealousy. "Why would you need someone else to teach you magic?" he asked, his voice tight.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tucked the scroll into your pack. "Gale, my love, are you jealous?"

"Of course not. It's just… I know your capabilities and it’s insulting to see someone else presume to teach you as if you were an amateur." He huffed, crossing his arms defensively. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"You know you're the only teacher I could ever have," you said softly, looking up into his eyes. You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek, moving to hover over his ear. "Your lessons are much more intimate and attentive."

His tense posture relaxed slightly, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as a small blush bloomed across his cheeks.

"Very well, then," he said, his tone warming as he pulled you to his side, a hand snaking around your waist, "I have a few new spells in mind that I think you’ll find quite invigorating"

Wyll:

The vibrant melodies of a bard's lute filled the air as you walked through the marketplace. The bard's eyes lit up when he saw you, and he began to serenade you with a heartfelt tune. Before you knew it, he extended his hand, inviting you to dance.

Wyll, ever the gentleman, stood nearby, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the bard's antics. The bard spun you around gracefully, and for a moment, you were caught up in the music and the joy of the dance. But just as the bard pulled you closer, Wyll stepped in, intercepting the dance with a fluid, graceful motion.

"May I cut in?" Wyll asked, his voice polite but firm, not waiting for an answer as he took your hand and led you away from the bard.

You smiled up at him, amused by the possessive edge in his movements. "Wyll, are you jealous?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Jealous? No, no. Gentlemen don't get jealous."

You pretended to believe him, nodding solemnly. "Of course, how silly of me. I'm glad I have such a composed and unaffected partner."

Wyll smiled, spinning you around before pulling you close again. "Just remember who your real dance partner is," he murmured, his voice low and full of meaning.

You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his lips, but to your surprise he dipped you over his leg and deepened it. Kissing you passionately before lifting you back up. You giggled and pressed your face to his chest in slight embarrassment, trying to hide your rosy red cheeks. He laughed and put a hand on your back, definitely not sending a glare to the bard who had seen the whole thing.

Astarion:

Astarion had always been charmingly possessive, but today his jealousy was more biting. As you spoke with an attractive merchant, Astarion's eyes darkened with jealousy. Later, when you returned to him, he greeted you with a cold, cutting remark.

"Enjoying your time with every attractive stranger who crosses your path?" he sneered, his eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Or are we just so deperate for attention that we will take any measly means of it."

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. He had been acting like this all afternoon and you had had enough. "What is your problem, Astarion? Why are you being so foul?"

Instead of answering, he turned away, his shoulders tense. You threw your hands up in the air in frustration and stormed off, your heart heavy with hurt. You walked a few metres outside of camp, Scratch diligently following you, and sat on a fallen tree. Scratch put his head in your lap as you stroked him for comfort.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps behind you. Astarion appeared, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a look of remorse. Scratch let out a low growl, the dog being rather attached to you and sensing how this was going to play out.

You didn't look at him, just remained petting Scratch and looking out into the forest. "What do you want Astarion, or are you just here to shame me some more?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual sharpness and trembled with an emotion he was unfamiliar with - guilt? Shame? "I was out of line."

You stopped petting Scratch and turned to him, your eyes searching his. He looked downtrodden and overall quite pathetic, his usual bravado nowhere to be seen. "Why do you do this, Astarion? Why do you push me away when you're jealous?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and he walked to you, dropping to his knees. Scratch eyed him with slight irritation as he pushed him out of his spot, but he soon became distracted by a squirrel that ran across the path and he left the two of you to it.

"It's because I care about you more than I care to admit. The thought of losing you to someone else.... it.. it.. terrifies me. Please, I can't lose you" Astarion begged, as he held your hands in your lap, looking up at you with wet red eyes.

You softened, leaning towards him, brushing a strand of his pale curled locks behind his ear. "You won't lose me, Astarion. But you need to trust me."

He nodded, resting his head in your lap. "I know. I promise I'll try to be better. Just… don't ever leave me."

You combed your fingers through his hair, a small smile on your lips as you felt the sincerity in his words. "I won't. Not ever."

my hands slipped and I accidentally made Astarion's a bit angsty - or should I say Ass-starion, am I right.?... I'll leave now.. - Seluney xoxox

[brain-rot-central]

Hey Jealousy

Rating: M/borderline E? (for now) Pairing: Spawn!A/Fem!Tav Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: NON-CANON, 18+, degrading speech, somewhat dubcon for certain parts but not totally?, adult themes, mentions of past sexual relationship, alcohol mention, alcohol use, blood mention, possessiveness, jealously, stalking, dry humping, ANGST, some fluff, bitter petty nonsense overall tbh

Summary: Astarion and Tav split at the end of the game due to a huge miscommunication. She tries desperately to move on, Astarion not so much. He finally gets ahold of her, aaaaand some messy feelings come out.

A/N - 1/28/24: Reuploading this! Not much has changed; mostly pulled it for grammatical editing purposes. Hopefully the story flows a bit better now!

The tavern is bustling with the usual weekend crowd. Upbeat music fills the air of the small establishment as this evening’s band continues their set. Drinks cascade like waterfalls into the hands and mouths of the tavern's parched patrons, each desperate for a distraction to drive out the unsettling reality of their lives, albeit for a few hours.

Astarion is perched in a corner of the tavern, circling the tip of his finger around the edge of his wine goblet. The unpleasant flavor of piss and vinegar lingers on his tongue from the spirit, mouth salivating. He sucks his teeth instinctively, trying to rid himself of the taste. 

Reaching into the pocket of his favored violet and gold doublet, he retrieves a small vial of crimson liquid. He pops off the stopper and deposits the contents into his cup, bringing the cylindrical glass to his mouth to lap up the small droplet that rolls down its side.

He hums in satisfaction as the sweet flavor spreads across his tongue, floral and lively, before returning the stopper back atop the vial. Using a single finger, he swirls the additive into his wine, bringing the goblet back to his lips for another sip. 

Ah, much better.

Surveying the bar, Astarion catches the attention of a young elven woman. She's aesthetically pleasing on the eyes - blonde hair with tan skin. Were he here for another reason, he may have tried his luck with her.

Astarion nods politely. The woman then rises from her seat, walking toward him. “Shit,” he mutters to himself, adjusting his positioning. He hurriedly repockets the blood vial within his doublet and hangs his head low just as she takes the seat at his booth, opposite him.

“Well, you’re certainly different from the usual fare,” she says, confidently. “Not often we get you teu-tel-quessir folk in here.” 

Astarion absently swirls his wine. She believes I'm a moon elf?

Assuming that she's a regular of this tavern, this woman may be somewhat oblivious. Were she not, she’d have realized this is his third visit this month alone.

Astarion decides to play into her little game - he’s compelled to see how long he can keep the charade going. “I’m but a weary traveler, just passing through,” he lies. It rolls off his tongue like the caress of an old friend. Creating a fictitious life for himself is something he’s had quite a bit of practice doing.

“Is that so? I, too, happen to be passing through here.” The woman places her elbows on the table and leans forward, giving Astarion better access to the cleavage threatening to spill over the top of her bodice. His eyes fall briefly to the woman’s chest, but he doesn’t look at her face. Not yet. “Got the room rented out upstairs for a couple more days,” she adds, tone hushed.

Sliding her hand toward his, she gently rubs her fingers over the ones he has encased around the neck of the wine goblet. Astarion shudders, not expecting such an intimate touch, and finally lifts his gaze to meet her own. “Care to make a few mistakes with me?” she asks.

Astarion snickers. He can tell part of her story is a facade, though he doesn’t care enough to discern which. 

“My apologies, love, but I’ve made enough mistakes to last a lifetime,” he replies. Pulling his hand from her, he grabs his wine by the cup, bringing it again to his lips. “I’ll have to decline.”

The elven woman softly hums in disappointment, standing up from her seat at the booth. “Such a shame,” she says, “you really are something beautiful.” She raises a hand to her lips, kissing the pads of her fingertips before extending them out toward him. Gently blowing on her fingers, she says, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Astarion raises his cup to her and she walks off, returning to her group of friends on the far side of the tavern. He groans a sigh of relief.

Wasting little time resuming his attention on the crowd surrounding him, another is quick to catch his eye. He's seen her before - long auburn hair flowing down her back with streaks of blonde scattered throughout. She wasn't dressed in her evening best, but even so, the blouse and slacks she wore left little to his imagination.

She's sitting at the bar in the middle of the tavern, a young tiefling gentleman holding her attention at present. He’s not her usual type, Astarion notes to himself, though he remains transfixed on their interaction.This is the second man he's seen this evening trying their hand at impressing the young human woman. 

A smile forms on her lips as she converses with her current suitor. Astarion once again swirls his goblet of wine before bringing it back to his mouth for another taste.

He knows this woman, rather intimately, at that. He’s held her hair within his hands, traced the outline of her jaw with his fingertips. The smell of her skin is ever present in his mind. The saltiness of her sweat on his tongue as he lavishes her throat, the intoxicating roll of her hips against his as he bites down into the tender flesh of her neck… the rush of blood cascading down his throat.

He swallows thickly around the memory.

They've been together a handful of times throughout their travels to save the Realm from the threat of the Absolute, but that was neither here nor there, at this point.

The tiefling begins skirting his fingers along her forearm, and she leans into his touch. Astarion seethes from his place in the booth, a rush of warmth flooding his core and quickly spreading outward to each of his limbs. It’s been months since they decided on this new agreement, though his reaction is just as strong whenever another encroaches on her.

Astarion looks on as the red-head gently pats her companion’s arm before standing from her seat. His eyes follow her toward the back of the tavern. After downing the rest of his drink in one quick swing, he’s following her, careful to keep just enough distance not to rouse suspicion.

The music from the band thumps loudly in his chest as he draws closer to the crowd of people gathered before the stage. Lucky for him, they’re so entranced by the show that they hardly notice his mindless weaving, trying not to lose sight of his target. Astarion stops for a moment to refocus, looking around. It doesn’t take him long at all to zero in a glimpse of those fiery locks disappearing down a hallway off to the side.

His feet bring him to the start of the long corridor and he peers cautiously around the corner. The woman is not to be found, likely in the powder room. Astarion sighs, some of the built up tension beginning to wane from his shoulders, and comes to stand with his back against the window across from the facilities.

The residual tension within him is beginning to bleed into anxiety and doubt the longer he waits. His mind is rapidly exchanging scenarios, all of which cause his stomach to become unsettled. Gooseflesh spreads over his arms and the fine hairs covering them stand on end. Why is he doing this? They'd agreed to be friends and nothing more. It’s his fault for not being able to honor his end of the deal, he knew, but by the Gods, he simply does not care.

Since the first drops of her blood spread across his tongue, Astarion knew something within him changed. He wasn't sure if it was due to her being his proverbial “first,” but he felt… compelled by her from that moment forward. Bonded almost, in a strange way. 

In a sea of crimson, her blood would always sing loudest to him. It horrified him in the beginning, recalling memories of Cazador's puppeteering ways. The fear ebbed into compassion, after a time. As their physical relationship grew more intimate, compassion melted into an overwhelming desire to guard her. A want to protect what was his, finally his, after so many godsdamned years of pure, absolute shit.

Their… whatever it was they shared, was his. And he would gladly throw his life on the line any chance he could to insure its sustainability.

He catches a glint of red in his peripheral vision again. The human, oblivious to his presence, begins her trek back to her seat at the bar. The thought barely has time to process in Astarion’s head before his body reacts, reaching out to grab the side of her arm, pulling her back toward the wall with him.

“What the-!” the woman exclaims in shock. Her other hand comes up to begin swatting at the offending appendage. She stops midway as her eyes meet his face, recognition washing over her. “Oh, Astarion,” she says, voice flat, “what… what are you doing here?”

A practiced smile graces his lips as he releases the grip on her arm. “Am I not free to seek my own pleasure, darling?” An uneasiness begins to take root again, mind scolding him once the words leave his lips. What in the hells kind of question is that? 

Astarion clears his throat. “I was simply out for a drink before returning home when I saw what appeared to be a fire in the middle of the bar.” Unsure of what response he's hoping for, he's praying she doesn't catch onto his desperate attempt at recovery.

A quick blush spreads across her cheeks and she bows her head, giving a genuine smile. Astarion huffs out a breath in relief. 

During their time together, Astarion would often tease that her hair reminded him of a raging fire. Eventually, he adorned her with the pet name of “spitfire;” she thoroughly enjoyed solving the majority of her problems through brute force. She favored it, evidenced by a deep blush that would spread across her features.

Not unlike the one rising to her face at this very moment.

Were he honest with her, he’d tell her that this isn’t the first time he’s followed her since they parted - watched helplessly from afar as she rotated through potential nightly suitors. He chooses not to, however. Chooses to not tell her that he’s noticed every man she’s taken home has platinum hair. How they’re always of elven lineage.

She seems to buy his excuse as she visibly relaxes before him. “Oh, no, of course, Astarion,” she sighs. “It's uh, it's been a few weeks, hasn't it?” Her eyes are soft as she shifts her weight onto one hip. “How have you been?”

She's nervous, he can tell. She's doing that thing with her lip, chewing the inside of it. The rush of blood in her veins crashes and bellows in his ears as her blush settles deeper across the top of her chest.

“As well as one would imagine,” Astarion replies, “after having their heart broken.” There’s an air of nonchalance decorating his tone. A well-worn smirk tugs at his lips. He's fuming inside at the thought of another touching her, but he doesn't want to play his cards outright yet. 

No, he wants to see her squirm, wants to inflict just a touch of the torment he's experienced since their parting.

What a spiteful creature.

Her expression falls flat, jaw tensing. “I'm not sure what you mean by that,” she retorts in a meek tone. She pulls her shoulders back. "I-I thought we agreed to be friends, no?”

Astarion glances over his shoulder to see the young tiefling gentleman from before passing behind them. Their eyes meet, Astarion furrowing his brow. His jaw tightens, lips curling upward, and the peaks of his fangs are visible. He watches for the tiefling’s reaction, elated to find that the boy is clearly shaken by his display. The Tiefling turns to speak but decides against it, turning his back to the scene before him. 

Astarion sneers.

Yet another unworthy fool. 

Though… a fool who has touched her. Something he and only he should be privy to.

An inferno erupts within him.

Astarion grabs the young woman by the arm again and leads her toward the supply closet at the end of the hall, making quick work of the lock. Astarion scans their surroundings before opening the door and shoving her in, a small squeak pushed past her lips from the impact of his hand on her back. Quickly closing the door behind him, he yells, “Ignis!” a fireball lighting the lone torch in the room.

“Astarion, what-” she shouts in protest. Before the opportunity arises he’s back on her, pinning her in place to the wall with his hips. His hands fly up to cup either side of her jaw.

"Do you truly believe I meant that?" he growls low in his throat, their eyes meeting in a whirlwind. “That I only wanted to be friends?” he adds, mockingly. 

He's desperately searching her face for something, anything to show him he's not alone in this. Her tense expression stokes the fire raging within him.

Suddenly, he's spiraling.

The small voice in his head, his conscience, is yelling at him to stop - to pull back. She’s made it quite clear how she feels, you love-sick idiot. 

Logic fails him - he cannot form a single cohesive thought. Not when she's looking at him like that.

A doe caught unawares in the middle of a forest. Eyes blown wide, mouth slightly agape. Not unlike those he's hunted multiple times in the past. His chest heaves as he drinks in her expression, a wave of heat rising up within him. 

The compulsion is overwhelming, rapidly losing the battle with the rational part of his brain. Bitterness bites at the back of his throat like acid. 

He absolutely must continue.

“Is that why your home has become a revolving door?” Astarion says, watching her face shift. 

“Excuse me?” the human asks, offense evident in her tone. A rhetorical question, though he pushes forward.

“Of men who look just enough like me?” he continues, driving the thorn deeper into the woman's side.  

Suddenly, she’s stone, cold and unwelcoming. Her face twists into something sour, nose scrunching up in disgust.

“Astarion Anunín… Have you been stalking me?” she nearly yells.

Oh, he has her right where he wants her.

"The color of their hair does always match my own…” Astarion ponders aloud, head tilting to one side. “Have any of them fucked you as thoroughly as I have, darling?" he chides.

Pulling in a quick, ragged breath, the young woman shudders beneath him, her head falling forward. Her hips involuntarily twitch against the knee he’s suddenly wedged between her thighs and she whimpers, biting her lip to stifle the sound. 

“Astarion…” she groans, eyes falling closed. 

She’s upset, he knows. Yet, he’s privy to how she can barely resist the call of his body against her. Why not use that knowledge to his advantage?

A heavy flush settles across her face and she reopens her eyes, looking up at him through hooded lids. Astarion sees it then - the unabashed desire emanating from her. 

How ironic, he thinks to himself, that her eyes have a hunter green hue. At this moment she feels like prey, wrapped up in a delicate satin bow, all for him.

The remnants of his eternally damned soul sing in delight at her unraveling before him. Saliva pools thick on his tongue as he lavishes the thought of pushing forward, closing in on her.

Astarion leans toward her, cocking his head again to one side. “Hells, Tav… Did it really never occur to you that we made love the last time we were together?" he asks quietly, mouth hovering just above her lips.

Tav shivers beneath him, body writhing against the wall she's leaning against. Her hands come up to press against his chest, gripping fistfuls of his shirt as she grinds herself again on the knee between her legs. The flush on her face is so deep, practically matching the color of her hair.

“Y-you’re hardly playing fair,” she huffs out. She moans again, genuine and clear, making little attempt to subdue the noise. Astarion groans in response before closing the distance, finally capturing her lips in a kiss. 

He’s timid at first, wanting to gauge her reaction. Tav doesn't resist nor push him away, giving him the encouragement to continue. Her jaw grows pliant under him and invites him deeper into her mouth, tongues entangling for a quick moment. The kiss is brief - just enough until she settles beneath him. Both of their chests heave as they part.

Astarion’s eyes rest upon her lips before he draws his head back. His hands fall from her face and he lays his palms flat against the wall on either side of her head. 

"My biggest regret is that I lacked the courage to tell you with words..." he admits, voice trailing off. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he adds, "so, instead, I used the one tool I'm most versed with.”

Tav's pupils blow wide at the implication of his words.

Of course, Astarion used his body - used himself as an instrument. Again. To him, this is familiar territory. This is safe. 

This is all I’m good for.

"It appears I must have gotten my translation wrong," he quips.

Tav shakes her head in disagreement. “It wasn’t wrong…” 

She adjusts herself against the wall as Astarion’s leg falls back into a normal position, no longer wedged between her. 

“I was so sure… and then the morning after, I- '' She cuts herself off and swallows. “I didn’t know what to think, Astarion.”

Astarion pushes himself off the wall, taking a few steps back from Tav to give her space. 

“I don’t understand,” he begins, folding his arms over his chest. “I thought I made my position rather clear that morning. About…” He shrugs his shoulders. “Us. This.”

Huffing out a quick laugh, Tav shakes her head again, her discomfort in their current conversation mounting. “You started talking about being free, and-” 

She stops herself again, choking back a sigh. “It just seemed so selfish to ask you to be with me. You were just getting yourself back, after so long.”

Tears begin to gather at the corners of Tav’s eyes. Gently with the pads of his thumbs, Astarion wipes them clean.

“Oh, my silly little love,” he says, lowering his face to place a chaste kiss upon her forehead. “How I wish you would have spoken to me first.”

Tav’s hands come up to cover his, removing them from her face. “I think… I think I need to go,” she tells him, urgently. 

Nodding in silent agreement, Astarion lets her dip out from under him, seeing her inch closer toward the door. 

Before she grips the door’s handle, she turns to look at him. “...Can we talk more about this?” She quickly gestures to their surroundings before adding, “In a better situation, maybe?”

Astarion can only sigh, chest rising and falling heavily. “Of course, my dear. Do you have a particular place in mind?”

Her eyes fall to the floor. Tav knits her fingers together nervously, rubbing her thumbs over the other. “Well… where are you staying?”

A quick laugh escapes his throat and he averts his gaze. His voice is soft and tender as he focuses on a broom leaning against the corner of the wall behind her, “...I went home.”

Tav furrows her brow before asking, “What do you mean by home?”

“Home, to Cazador’s,” he states, devoid of emotion. Astarion’s eyes fall back onto her, watching as she adjusts her posture.

“It’s not as though I know much else,” he continues. “I lack the gold or the ability to work. I have only what I’m able to pilfer off the unassuming, and I’ve grown tired of playing such a role.” 

Astarion sighs heavily again before adding, “There are a number of… resources available to me, now that Cazador is gone. It would be foolish of me to squander them.”

Tav only nods in his direction, her expression falling flat. “Alright,” she says, “I’ll meet you… there, I guess.” She unlaces her hands and turns around, heading back toward the door.

“Tavaria,” Astarion calls to her as she wraps a hand around the door handle again, freezing in place at the use of her full name. “If you do decide to visit me, you’re going to need the passcode for the tower door.” 

Looking over her shoulder, Tav waits for him to continue. Moments pass between them, the air growing thick and stale within the small closet. When she doesn’t speak, he pushes forward. 

“It’s spitfire,” Astarion tells her.

He hears more than sees the small inhalation of breath she takes as his words register. Turning her head forward again, Astarion watches her finally twist the knob to the door, pushing it open. Tav steps out of the closet, looking at him briefly before disappearing down the corridor of the tavern.

Astarion slumps against the cool stone of the supply closet wall, light now pouring through the open doorway. His head is throbbing, an uneasy ache beginning to take root deep within his chest.

What a day.

[scrapsovereign]

“I Have Standards”: A Choose Your Own Adventure Smut Fic

Description: NSFW. Astarion rejects you after defeating the Goblin Camp, so you seek out a certain wizard to make him realize what he's missing out on...

Pairings: Astarion x F!Tav, Gale x F!Tav, Astarion x Gale x F!Tav

Trigger warnings/tags: Jealous Astarion

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

“I’m flattered, but I think not. It’s not you, you understand, it’s me. I have standards,” Astarion professes with a hand flounced over his chest, smiling condescendingly at you.

Your fingers drum the side of the wine bottle you hold in your hands, the alcohol easing the pang of rejection you feel…and loosening your lips for what’s on your mind.

“You have standards, I’ll give you that, but the bar isn’t what you think it is,” you take another drink of your courage juice, Astarion’s scrunched face of disapproval glaring at you for how you’ve just negged him.

“Really now? Go on then, explain yourself- I do so love it when I’m informed of how I’m feeling,” he sneers, teeth on display that were just latched on the side of your neck last night.

You shotgun the rest of the drink.

Here we go.

“For the last few centuries you were compelled to take victims to bed for Cazador. For as long as we’ve been out here, you’ve been free of that compulsion,” you explain, watching Astarion’s face soften, his gorgeous crimson eyes go wide. “You haven’t had a choice for so long, you don’t know what you want…that is, except for my blood.”

You continue before he can get a word in edgewise, praying the wine will help you eloquently channel this next spicy bit. “I know how hard you get when you drink from me, I can hear your little whimpers of pleasure, I can see your pants darkened with your pre-spill when you leave my tent.”

Astarion’s lips are parted in slack- jawed disbelief, his undead body forgetting to remember it’s supposed to look like he’s breathing.

“You’re ashamed of it and you don’t know if the desire you’re feeling is real, that’s why you haven’t made any moves on me. You’ll sneak off to take care of it yourself. Just like last night after you were done feeding on me. I could hear you whispering my name in your tent and the sounds of you stroking yourself-“

“I’ve heard quite enough,” he snaps, leaning in towards you. “Speaking of arousal, I can smell yours right now. Does humiliating me get you off?”

You shake your head, ignoring the dagger of his words piercing your heart. “It doesn’t, but knowing what my blood does to you makes me want you in the worst way.”

“But! Seeing as how you’re not interested, and talking about this has made me incredibly horny, I’m gonna go talk to Gale! See what else that mouth of his is good for besides yapping,” you press the empty bottle into a stunned Astarion’s hands, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you walk away.

You make your way over to Gale, feeling Astarion’s gaze burn holes in your back. You put on a bit of a show for him, swaying your hips as your saunter over to the wizard.

You know Gale wants you. He’d done sweet little things here and there to win your affection, preen and blush with your praise, bubble over with gratitude when you gave him items for his orb. It was when you saw his innermost, filthiest imaginings while you connected in the weave when you truly realized that the orb wasn’t the only part of him that was hungry.

“It’s beautiful tonight, wouldn’t you say? The party’s rather nice too,” you purr out, amused as Gale nearly does a spit take from your forward flirtations.

“Well, erhm, I don’t fault you for thinking so, seeing as I’m quite the handsome devil,” Gale smirks, his insecurities drowned by your flattering words. You can’t help but agree. He’s pretty in a way that’s different from Astarion, and you’re more than into it.

“Gale, I’m going to be blunt with you. I came over here so that I could stroke more than your ego,” you say with a bored tone, discreetly palming the wand between his legs.

“And while I…I would be…I want to, but I fear the orb,” he sputters as you stroke him, feeling his surprisingly large cock inflate underneath your hands.

You look over your shoulder to see Astarion still watching you. To say he doesn’t look happy is a grand understatement.

Good.

You angle yourself so that Astarion can see when you touch your lips to Gale’s, when you lick at the wizard’s quivering lips and he allows you entry, when your tongues glide together languidly and he melts into the kiss.

“I want you,” you whisper against Gale’s lips, earning a little needy whine from the back of his throat in reply. You massage the erection that kicks against your hand, tenderly cupping the side of his face with the other as you slowly, sensually, move your lips against his.

“I want you too,” he swallows thickly, “Shall we continue in the privacy of my temporary abode? While the others are making merry and none the wiser?” He says quietly, his flushed lips inches away from yours.

You hook your fingers underneath his belt, a gesture that can only mean a vehement yes as you drag him into his tent. You look back again to see Astarion’s furious eyes tracking you, faintly glowing a dangerous shade of red as you dip into the darkness and disappear.

(Enter Gale's Tent)

[littlejuicebox]

ahhhhhh the first installment of Midnight Chimes is so good! I can’t wait for more! I also really like the AstarionxWren series, I loved jealous Astarion in Chapter 10! Would you be willing to write another small piece about him being jealous? Thank you!

Hi Anon! Thank you. I love some jealous, angsty Astarion as much as the next person! Here you go! <3

Warnings/Tags: In-game spoilers, fluff/angst, jealous partner, possessive partner (if you squint)

Word count: 1.4 K

-----

The group had only a few days left in the Mountain Pass region before they ventured into the dreaded Shadowlands. Halsin insisted on hoarding at least a quarter cord of wood for the journey; he said he would even pull the entire thing himself, in his bear form, if he had to.

The wood elf warned the others that the journey into the Shadowlands would be treacherous, and nary a living thing would be found. As such, he'd been more than adamant they all gather as many supplies as they could find and hold in order to prepare for the unknown atrocities ahead.

No one could deny Halsin was a magnificent specimen. Everyone in the camp had been distracted when the druid removed his shirt, revealing beautiful beads of sweat glistening on his remarkably chiseled chest. The late afternoon sun was beating down his barren back as he chopped relentlessly at a thick tree trunk, hashing it with sheer force and unbreakable will. Earlier, the spellcasters had offered to help the druid with the project, but he'd quickly brushed them off with an explanation that the repetitive manual labor cleared his mind.

The mountain of a man paused to drink water from his canteen and then lifted the bottle over his head. The cool liquid spilled through his locks before flowing in thin rivets down his face, following the force of gravity and ultimately dribbling down his barren torso. Astarion himself had been sitting with his mouth agape, watching the salacious scene. Honestly, it was a nearly impossible vision to ignore.

But then the silver-haired elf became absolutely engrossed in the event, unable to look away as you practically sprinted over to Halsin with a fresh canteen of water and a few damp cloths. You were fussing over the druid as he took a brief respite from his self-assigned chore. Astarion rolled his eyes in exasperation when he heard you lament the fact that it was so hot and insist you could help the druid chop wood.

Oh, please. He was certain you never lifted an axe in your life.

But, of course, Halsin was humoring your antics and absolutely devouring your attention. The druid took a few more sips of water, and then you two fell into what must have been a very pleasant conversation, judging by the flush of your cheeks and the giant grin on your face.

Astarion felt a pang in his chest as your laughter rang across the camp; coquettish giggles that had been previously reserved solely for him. Was he actually jealous?

No, impossible, he couldn’t be! The rogue could have bed anyone in the camp, Halsin included, if he so wished. You had simply been a matter of convenience. So what if you two spent nearly every night wrapped in one another's arms, it was merely transactional!

Wasn’t it?

“Your move, Astarion.” Wyll prompts with a small, mischievous chuckle.

“Huh?” The vampire responds dazedly, jerking his head back to the human man.

Oh, right, they were still playing chess.

Astarion glances at the pieces on the board, but he’s preoccupied by visions of you and Halsin his peripherals. The rogue picks up his remaining knight and moves it to E4. Wyll laughs in lofty delight and pushes his bishop forward, claiming Astarion's knight with ease.

The vampire groans in dismay before examining the tiny wooden pieces again. He and Wyll had made a bet: the loser had to leave camp and forage for a basket full of wild crops before returning for the night.

Astarion abhorred the thought of performing such a menial task, and he had been winning mere moments ago, before your little rendezvous with Halsin distracted him. He sighs and brings his hand to rest on the side of his face, trying to focus on the game, but your ridiculous laughter is ringing in his ears. Finally, the elf picks up his queen and moves it a few spaces to the left.

When he's completed his move, Astarion’s eyes wander over to you once more. Halsin is leaning into you with his muscular arms wrapped around your torso, broad chest flush against your back. He’s showing you how to properly swing the axe, the two of you moving in unison.

“Oh, come on!” Astarion shouts, no longer paying attention to the chess game at all. His fists tense into tight balls upon his lap; you had to know what you were doing.

Wyll is laughing. He's just won the game and misinterprets the vampire's exclamation as a response to the loss. "Hah! You have to be more careful with your queen, Astarion! Or else she'll be stolen away by the better player."

The pale elf snaps his eyes back to Wyll and then down to the board. Only then does he realize that he's lost the game, perhaps in more ways than one. Astarion frowns in utmost displeasure; the parallels of the warlock's statement are not lost on him.

Wyll is cackling as he hands the basket to the pale elf. Astarion growls and grabs the woven piece of wicker; as he walks out of camp, he is perturbed to see you still chopping wood with everyone's favorite druid.

Over an hour later, the vampire returns to camp with a basket full of foraged food, as agreed upon. He drops the basket in Wyll's lap with a huff and then stalks off to his tent without a word. When you pop by a couple of minutes later, Astarion is absolutely brooding, and pretending to occupy himself with a book he hasn't read a word of.

"Can I help you? I'm quite busy." The pale elf grumbles, barely lifting his eyes from the page to acknowledge you.

You don't take the hint and let yourself into the rogue's tent with a contented little smile. You move to sit next to your lover, and he dramatically leans away from you, turning his head to avoid your gaze entirely.

"Aw, come now, Astarion... are you still upset that you lost that bet against Wyll?" You murmur, cocking your head slightly, "He warned you that he was quite good!"

"I wouldn't have lost if someone hadn't distracted me." Astarion snarls, snapping the book shut and scowling at you, white eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

"Distracted you? I wasn't anywhere near you!" You respond in surprise, eyes widening at the elf, "How can you blame me for losing, it's not my fault you--"

"You distracted me because you were practically drooling all over the druid!" The vampire hisses, no longer able to keep the boiling bits of frustration from spilling out of his mouth as he points the book at you in accusation.

"Are..." You pause, eyebrow raising slightly, copying the habitual expression of practiced cockiness normally displayed by your companion, "Are you jealous, Astarion?"

"Of the druid? Hah!" The vampire retorts, feigning disgust with a crinkled nose, though he realizes it's not too convincing, "Hardly, darling."

"Hmm... shame." You drawl, eyes narrowing slightly. You sigh and begin to shift, as if you're about to exit his tent, “For a moment I was beginning to think you actually cared."

"And where do you think you're going?" Astarion asks as you lift the flap of his tent.

Since entering the Mountain Pass, you two had shared a tent almost every night. Often, it was for sex, which he found himself expecting in a confusing state of yearning and apprehension. But sometimes it was simply for cuddles and conversation, and perhaps a little snack on his part. He found that he'd grown quite fond of your frequent interactions and the feeling of your warm body curled up next to him as you finally drifted off to sleep.

"To my own tent," You murmur, eyeing the vampire with a devious smirk, "Come and find me when you're ready to admit that you were jealous."

And then you're gone, and Astarion is left seething, watching as you saunter away.

Less than a half hour later, the vampire is at the entrance of your tent, his threadbare blanket draped around his arm. You lift your gaze from the dagger you'd been sharpening and eye him with a self-satisfied smile. You sheath the blade and bring your arms across your chest, waiting expectantly for the rogue's confession.

The pale elf groans in frustration, rolling his eyes up at the heavens, "Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Oh, absolutely!" You respond near-instantaneously, "No entry until admission is paid."

Astarion sighs and shifts uncomfortably on his feet, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I guess..." He starts, and then his tone drops into a barely audible whisper, "I guess I was a bit jealous."

"I'm sorry? I couldn't hear you. You'll have to speak louder, darling, as I don't have vampiric hearing." You say with a teasing, overly saccharine smile, "Could you please repeat that?"

"I was jealous!" He hisses, now thoroughly flustered by your mockery and pulling anxiously at his own ear, "There! Are you happy?"

This time you beam, and the smile is sweet and genuine. He feels the knot that was growing in his chest relax as your gaze softens. You scoot yourself over in your tent and chuckle slightly, patting the spot next to you. "Yes. Very happy. Now get in here, you sweet idiot."

Astarion enters the tent, immediately taking his place by your side. A smooth, pale arm wraps around your torso, and he presses a soft kiss to your temple before dropping his head and whispering into your ear, “The next time you're looking for wood, my sweet, it would be my pleasure to provide you with some. You needn't look elsewhere; I'm sure you'll find that the wood I can provide you is hard and ready to fill you with warmth every single time."

His hot breath tickles your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. You feel your face grow flushed at his overt innuendo, and the vampire chuckles at the splashes of red spreading across your neck and cheeks. He brings his tongue to run along your ear lobe, which rips a small, delightful gasp from you.

"Astarion!" You squeal, pressing a hand to the elf’s chest and moving away slightly in a half-hearted attempt to avoid the vampire's advances. Your tent is still wide open, and you don’t particularly relish the idea of everyone in camp witnessing your private life, no matter how nice it feels.

"That better be the only name I ever hear cried from your lips.” The rogue murmurs before moving forward and gently nipping at your lobe, grazing it between fanged teeth. He smirks and then hums contentedly before purring into your ear once more, “Now, be a little lamb and close the tent, won’t you? I believe we have some serious making up to do.”

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Summary: Free from his master’s vampiric thrall for the first time in 200 years, Astarion’s mind, body, and heart war with each other over how to seize and solidify his precious, and precarious, newfound freedom. Luckily, Tav’s there to help. Or perhaps ruin all his carefully laid plans. Multi-chapter longfic.

Rating: 18+, Explicit Content, Porn with a lot of plot and a lot of feelings ❤️‍🔥

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angstarion, Astarion Character Study and everything that entails, PTSD, Descriptive Explorations of Emotional and Sexual Trauma, Manipulators to Lovers, Vampire Sex, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Grinding, Unresolved Sexual Tension. Tav is CIS female and a bard. Full tag list on AO3.

A/N: As a veteran vampire fucker, Astarion really is something special. Will be updating every two weeks. This will be messy in the best way possible.

Read on AO3 Chapter 2❤️‍🔥. Chapter 3❤️‍🔥. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7❤️‍🔥. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10❤️‍🔥. Chapter 11. Chapter 12❤️‍🔥. Chapter 13. Chapter 14.

❤️‍🔥=Smut

Chapter 1: Bite

Somehow, Astarion was watching the sun set. This simple moment, which the rest of his companions almost certainly took for granted, was a miracle to him. He had resigned himself to endless night a century ago, yet now here he was basking in a sunset like it was nothing. He stared at the fading sun until he couldn’t anymore, until his retinas burned and the last languid finger of light finally dipped below the horizon, abandoning Faerûn to a soft, somber twilight. Each precious, fleeting day was a gift and Astarion intended to feast on each one down to the marrow.

Somehow, Cazador Szarr had once again failed to find him. For 200 years his master had ruled Astarion’s waking moments with an iron fist. And then a small, wriggling little worm had miraculously interrupted Cazador���s vampiric hold on him. Imagine, a vampire lord losing to a worm. Astarion could die, again, of laughter. Yet even here, two weeks out from The Gate, Astarion felt his Master’s phantom eyes on him. He didn’t understand it but Astarion wasn’t a fool: he knew his time was limited. It was only a matter of whether the Mindflayers or Cazador would catch up to him first. Neither option was particularly good but the choice was easy, if he had one: he’d do anything, absolutely anything, to keep from returning to the Szarr Palace.

As the camp settled in for the night Astarion pantomimed preparing for bed, a routine he knew he was fumbling clumsily through. The night had been for hunting, seducing, fucking, killing. It had never been for relaxing. For reading. For chatting idly with people he wasn’t planning on stabbing in the back. For now at least. He knew they’d have no qualms about stabbing him, should they discover his condition. Even so, he had meditated more these last few nights than he had in decades. It cleared his mind a little, but it did nothing to calm the dread he carried in his bones. Nor did it assuage his gnawing hunger.

So far, none of his companions appeared to have figured out Astarion’s little secret. He watched each one of them carefully, scouring their faces, voices, and bodies for the smallest micro-expressions of suspicion. Karlach, Hell’s Above, didn’t seem to have much going on upstairs, a genuine blessing. Lae’Zel was too focused on reaching her blasted crèche to spare him a second glance, thank the gods. She could easily skewer him if she felt like it. Shadowheart was too busy guarding her own secrets to pry into his, although she could be oddly perceptive at times. Gale only stopped talking when he had his nose in a book, but he was still the resident wizard and needed to be watched should his, alleged, considerable intellect decide to return to him. The fact that Wyll hadn’t noticed was in itself suspicious, but perhaps the famous Blade of Frontiers wasn’t half the monster hunter he thought he was. Maybe Astarion could survive this after all.

And then there was Tav. Responsible, pretty, annoying, Tav. She had become the de facto leader of this ragtag tragedy, which was perfectly fine with Astarion. He did his best work from the shadows anyway. Tav spent her days settling their squabbles and running after every single irrelevant quest they were given like a dog after a ball. She was clearly too distracted, and too tired he often saw, to notice that he was more than he let on. Perfect.

Astarion wasn’t used to going unnoticed. He had accidentally drawn Cazador’s ire numerous times by simply existing. He had tried to fade into the background countless times, but Cazador’s cruel eye was always drawn to him. “Go on boy, do the only thing you’re good for.”

Well, he wasn’t completely unnoticed. He felt the way Tav’s eyes roved over him when she thought he wasn’t looking, felt her pulse hammering in her throat when they spoke to each other. She didn’t say anything and neither did he, but it was nice to know that he was still alluring even when disgustingly unwashed.

Astarion had the patience of a centuries old predator. Despite the ache behind his fangs, he waited until he could pick out the gentle snores of each one of his companions, not moving until Lae’Zel had made her 15th loop around their camp’s perimeter, which was more than enough time for her to lose herself in the banality of the night’s watch. He’d have to be quick, but he knew what he was hunting for: he had picked up on the heartbeat of a boar hours ago. It wasn’t a sound per se, but more of a pulse he felt in his gut. He honed in on its tantalizing rhythm, allowing himself to be drawn down through the forest and up back onto the road where the beast snuffled for food along the path. Easy.

His muscles tensed. His mind went blank. He slid through the night and tackled the boar, ripping into its neck with a savage bite. The boar thrashed against him but Astarion bit down harder, tearing into the beast’s jugular with a bloody squelch. It collapsed under him and Astarion brutally pinned it to the ground. He gulped down mouthfuls of blood so big that they hurt his throat as he swallowed. As he drank, he could feel the boar’s jerks become weaker and weaker, until its death throes were merely twitches. When there was no more blood, Astarion released his jaw and rolled away, gasping in the dirt as a wave of nausea engulfed him. He thought he was going to be sick. It was the most blood he had drunk in one sitting in 200 years and it sat heavy and bloating in his stomach. He was full. Satisfied? No. But he was full.

But even the fresh spoils of victory grow bland. His palate wasn’t made for beasts. He wanted something finer, something richer. Still, a boar was leagues better than a rat. But he knew, had known for some time, that his body needed more than animal blood to be truly nourished. It needed the blood of thinking creatures.

What would happen if he grew too weak, too feeble to fight? Would this merry band of would-be heroes leave him behind, alone in the wilderness for Cazador to find, if he couldn’t keep up? He would never go back. He’d die first.

You could do it, you know, a dark inner voice whispered to him. Why don’t you have a taste of your new friends?

No. He forced that impulse down. He was a vampire spawn, but he was not a monster. Were they frustrating? Deeply. But these indifferent strangers had been kinder to him than anyone had been in centuries, kinder than anyone who had actually known him. He would not risk whatever precarious piece of safety he had for a quick meal. He’d blow his cover. They’d hate him. They’d kill him. It was the only course of action that made sense once he was discovered. Which was only a matter of time.

Despite everything, his master’s old orders still echoed dully in his mind: Thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures. He didn’t know if he could bite them, even if he wanted to. Cazador had forbidden it.

Astarion slipped back into his bedroll unnoticed, mission complete. He wasn’t tired, was too wired from the hunt and from the day’s fighting to truly rest, but he knew he needed to meditate if he was going to be of any use tomorrow. If he was going to continue fooling them into thinking he wasn’t a monster hiding in their midst. Rolling onto his side, he caught sight of Tav fast asleep in her tent, the flap carelessly unlatched. Tav, who had readily forgiven him after he had threatened to slit her throat. Tav, who looked but never touched. Tav, whose opinion and guidance seemed to matter the most to everyone in camp. Astarion sunk into deep reverie.

~~

“It’s dead, my friend. Are you really going to gawk at every piece of carrion you find?”

Astarion could flay himself. He hadn’t bothered to hide his kill from the other night because who seriously cared, there were dead beasts all over the forest, and of course Tav had quite literally stumbled over its exsanguinated remains. Crouching down to examine his kill, she pored over the corpse with thorough precision. He was dead. He was so dead unless he did something.

“Darling,” Astarion began, positioning himself right behind Tav, unsure what he was going to do but moving just to move. At the same moment Tav stood up and took a step backward, crashing into him. For a moment their bodies were completely flush, her back against his chest, her peachy bottom cushioned against his groin. Astarion reflexively reached out to place his hands on her hips, but Tav jolted forward and out of his grasp.

“Sorry!” She gasped, flushing a delicious rosy shade. She pointedly averted her eyes.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Astarion purred. Tav dared a glance up at him and he flashed her an easy smirk. “Are you completely satisfied?” He asked, layering the question thick with innuendo. “There are much better things we could be doing. Shall we go now?”

Somehow, Tav turned even redder. “It’s definitely odd, but a dead pig isn’t the weirdest thing we’ve seen so far,” she conceded.

“No, it’s not. It doesn’t even place in the Top 50 on this little adventure,” Astarion quipped. Tav laughed at that, a quick mirthful giggle. “I’m sorry, everyone. Let’s keep moving.” Tav hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Astarion for the briefest of moments, but she quickly continued onward, surging forward towards the head of the group. Astarion breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had apparently noticed nothing.What a cute, malleable little idiot. ~~

The idea had occurred to him before, that second night underneath the stars. Back when he had thought that their little adventure might actually be over soon. Which had meant that Cazador’s punishments would be imminent. He had wondered aloud if their adventure may actually end the next day and Tav had said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, “It doesn’t have to, we could keep traveling together.” Such a sweet gesture had stirred something in him. The others hadn’t seemed keen on him, nor on each other for that matter. But Tav was kind. Giving. She was already giving him safety by letting him travel with her. What else would she give him, if he played his cards right?

Would she let him drink from her? He was ravenous. He imagined her soft and pliant underneath him, arching her neck, begging for his bite. Astarion was dizzy at the thought of such submission to him, such power over her. He tried to imagine what she would taste like but his brain couldn’t supply an answer. If Cazador had forbidden it then humanoid blood must be delicious.

But why would she help him? No one offered help for free, especially not to a vampire spawn. Even kind, giving Tav also benefited from their traveling arrangement. And his safety in this little arrangement was only tenuous at best. If he didn’t want to be staked on sight, he’d have to sweeten the deal somehow.

He knew how, but something inside of him had hesitated that night. Now, he could kick himself. How many times had he seduced and in turn allowed himself to be seduced? He was a professional, this should mean nothing to him by now. At least Tav was pretty. Flustering her had been both useful and fun. He had certainly done worse. And after today, he was beginning to suspect that Tav may actually like him, just a little.

But still. He was free for the first time in centuries. Did he really want to spend his precious moments of freedom on his back again? Was this really all he was good for?

He just needed some time to think, he would figure this out.~~

Unfortunately, the rest of his cohort were not as amenable as Tav. Today Tav had chosen himself, Lae’Zel, and Shadowheart to explore the nearby forest, which made for a particularly sullen group. Unnerved by his close call yesterday, Astarion realized that he had to acquire more allies….make friends, as it were. Gods. He hadn’t made a real, genuine friend in centuries. The last time he had tried hung heavily in his heart.

Astarion knew that he was profoundly unlikeable. He had been told so many times. There was only one good thing about him, one thing he was good at and only one thing anyone wanted from him, so naturally he would lead with that. He was already working Tav. Lae’Zel was powerful and would make an excellent ally, but Astarion decided to let her come to him. She seemed the type who liked to do the conquering. Gale was a strong option but he was still pining over his goddess and Wyll would probably want to get married first. As appealing as they both were, he needed allies now. And Karlach was literally untouchable, which derailed the entire plan. That left the mysterious Shadowheart.

Drifting to the back of the group, he began poring over the many lines he had used throughout the decades to charm and flatter his targets. Shadowheart acted cold, but Astarion could tell that she was hiding some softness underneath it all. Perhaps he could coax it out of her with the right words, if he indicated that he saw the real her beneath the facade. Adopting a pensive air, Astarion smoothly sidled up her.

“Shadowheart. Such a dark name for such a delicate flower,” he said softly. He tilted his head to a thoughtful angle, trying to catch her eye with his sad, smoldering gaze. Shadowheart shot him an icy glare.

“I heard you practicing that back there. Next time, keep your pick-up lines to yourself.”

Ahead of them, Tav choked on a laugh. “Better you than I,” Lae’Zel scoffed. “If he had tried that on me, I would have ripped his tongue from his mouth.” Astarion audibly gulped and drifted far away from his hostile companions. Tav shot him a sympathetic glance. “Yeesh, tough crowd,” she said. Astarion snorted. “Some people have no taste,” he said. Tav laughed, but Astarion still kept his hands to himself for the rest of the day.

~~

He knew it would happen, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon.

“First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.”

Cazador was here. Cazador had found him and by the gods, Cazador knew all of Astarion’s new transgressions.

“I’m sorry, Master! I was kidnapped, I had no choice!” Astarion whipped around, crying out into the darkness. The darkness said:

“Second. Thou shalt obey me in all things.”

Which he hadn’t done. He had flagrantly disobeyed. Who would obey such cruel demands unless they were forced to?

“Third. Thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.”

He hadn’t meant to, he had been abducted! He didn’t choose any of this! But Astarion knew that Cazador didn’t care about that. “Please, not again,” he begged, knowing that it didn’t matter what he said.

“Fourth. Thou shalt know that thou art mine, you pathetic little worm.”

Astarion jolted awake, tossing off his bedroll with a shout. The campfire burned steadily, casting off the shadows of night. The deep supernatural darkness of his dreams was gone. His companions lay by the fire and in their tents, somehow still asleep despite his pitiful cry.

Cazador wasn’t here. Cazador was back in Baldur’s Gate and he was in the middle of the wilderness. He wasn’t going to be flayed. Yet. But it was only a matter of time. Cazador would be furious that Asatrion had somehow slipped off of his tight little leash. And worse, Cazador would be jealous when he discovered that Astarion could walk in the sun and he could not.

It dawned on Astarion: he can walk in the sun. He can cross streams. He can enter houses without permission. The tadpole had disrupted so much of his biology already. Perhaps it had fully broken Cazador’s hold. Maybe he could disobey completely. In every way.

He had gone to bed hungry that night. The boar had been too close a call for comfort. And he hadn’t been able to secure additional protection. Astarion had starved for centuries, he thought he could keep himself in check. But the promise of feeding on what he truly craved finally made his hunger unbearable.

He scanned the camp, taking in his companions sleeping forms. So relaxed. So unsuspecting. Who would have the honor of being his first thinking meal? Almost immediately his eyes found Tav, who was curled up by the fire. The flames flickered over her fine features, her beautiful skin. Shadows danced down the length of her neck, disappearing into the valley of her breasts, their round tops peaking shyly out from her loose camp shirt. He had never seen her so accidentally exposed, so vulnerable before. He had to taste her. She would be delicious, he just knew it. His body was moving of its own accord, drawn to her. Bending down beside her, Astarion ghosted his face across her neck, instinctively finding the intoxicating pulse of her heart beat. He bared his fangs, running his tongue behind them. He would be quick, gentle. He only needed a taste, just needed a moment of her warmth. She was so-

“What are you doing?”

Astarion recoiled sharply as Tav sat up, suddenly awake. He swore audibly and withdrew, retreating back to the shadows. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he gasped. “I wasn’t going to hurt you.” Tav stared back at him, surprise and horror dawning slowly across her face. Astarion thought he saw the beginnings of disgust. “I just, I just needed-“ He had no idea what to say. There was no way out, he was caught. “Blood.” His admission hung strangely in the air between them. Then Tav began to put the pieces together, at last.

“You…are you a vampire?” She asked, incredulous.

“Not entirely. I’m a vampire spawn. But I only feed on beasts! Deer, kobolds-“

“Boars,” Tav supplied.

“…boars too.”

“I knew you were acting strangely yesterday,”

“I’ve just been so weak, so slow. If I had a bit of blood, I could think clearer, fight better.”

There’s a pulsing behind his eye and then Astarion’s mind is yanked backwards to the first time that Cazador had compelled him to eat a rat. He hadn’t wanted to, had begged Cazador not to make him do this, but while his mind resisted his body had obeyed Cazador’s sadistic order. And yet, he had been so hungry that he couldn’t be fully sure what he had done in vampiric thrall and what he had done for sheer survival. He had eaten many rats since then, but that first one had been particularly humiliating. And now Tav knew.

“You didn’t eat them by choice. You ate them because he made you.”

“Yes,” Astarion admitted bitterly. “I ate whatever vermin I was so generously allowed to eat. You’ll eat anything if you are hungry enough.” Tav’s eyes softened and Astarion saw pity shining in her gaze. His lip curled.

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” She said.

“Would you have said yes?” He countered. “At best I thought you would say no. At worst, I thought you would drive a stake through my ribs.”

“I wouldn’t have done that, you’re my-“

“I’m your what, your friend?” Astarion sneered. “Vampire spawn have no friends. We’re created by monsters and the world sees us as monsters. Don’t patronize me, darling.” Astarion spat. Tav turned away, trying to hide her hurt in the flames of the campfire. Astarion regretted his outburst almost immediately. Pushing her away now could be fatal.

“And yet despite all that, I needed you to trust me.” He took a tentative step toward Tav, pitching his voice lower to a soft, seductive rumble. “And you can trust me. I swear it.”

“Strangely I do, I do trust you.” Tav’s voice was barely a breath, a whisper above the crackles of the flames. “I only meant that you’ve had numerous chances to kill me since the first attempt and you haven’t. You’ve even saved me a few times.” Astarion continued advancing.

“I’m glad, truly.” He said.

“And we still need each other.” Tav said this softly, sadly, as if she didn’t want to say it.

“We do indeed,” he agreed. “So, do you think you could trust me just a little bit further? In the spirit of needing each other?”

They were so close now. Tav turned towards him, the question in her gaze. He reached out and tucked a stray tendril of her hair behind her ear. “I only need a taste.” He allowed his finger tips to stray down the column of her neck. “I swear.” His mouth hovered over hers. Tav visibly shuddered underneath his ghostly touch. “Not a drop more than you need.” She said. So tough. So generous. “Of course, not one drop more.” He leaned in, his mouth above the shell of her ear. “Shall we make ourselves comfortable?” She nodded. Placing his hand on her hips, Astarion gently guided Tav downward onto her bedroll where he settled next to her, curling against her side.

“Will it hurt?” She asked. Her eyes were wide, her pupils yawning caverns. Astarion doubted that he looked any better. “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he promised. He would try. He would try for her.

“I’m ready.” Tav bared her neck and closed her eyes, turning her face away. This was really happening.

Sliding his body over hers, Astarion lowered himself on top of her. Their bodies slotted together, her breasts pressing up into his chest, his pelvis settling down against her own. Astarion’s hand cradled her neck tenderly, cupping her chin in his lithe fingers. And then he struck, sinking his fangs quickly and precisely into her flesh.

Fresh lifeblood flooded over his tongue in hot, sweet spurts. She wasn’t delicious, she was exquisite. He pressed his lips fervently against her neck, desperate for more of her. His tongue lapped along her throat, seeking every rivulet of blood that escaped his lips. Tav’s gentle fingers came up to trace circles against his scalp and card between his curls. A warm shiver traveled down his spine and he groaned into her neck as he swallowed her down. Astarion mindlessly ground himself against her center and he realized with a surprise that he was hard.

“Astarion,” Tav gasped, her body arching up to meet his. His hand moved to her waist and began to slip underneath her camp shirt, gliding along her exposed flesh. He took a deep pull of blood from her, the deepest one yet.

“Wait, Astarion,” Tav’s voice was growing faint. A weak hand began to press against his shoulder and he immediately grasped it and forced it back down, harshly caging her in. He couldn’t stop. He would never let her go.

“Stop, please Astarion!” He heard how weak Tav’s voice sounded now and it finally broke the spell. He released her throat with a bloody gasp, forcing his body off of her.

Tav rolled over, clutching the ruin of her neck. She looked disheveled, debauched. A feast in every way. Astarion stood abruptly, reeling.

“That was amazing,” he whispered reverently. He was filled with an unfamiliar feeling. He felt light, strong. Brimming with energy. Astarion caught a trickle of her blood as it slid down his lips with a disbelieving finger. He licked it off with a slow thick swipe of his tongue, greedy for more of her. His desire for her was beginning to scare him.

“As delicious as you were, I need to find something more filling.” He spun on his heel but stopped himself from fleeing. He needed to leave before he seriously hurt her, but he didn’t like the thought of her crumpled and alone, used and then discarded. Like he had often been. She had placed her life in his hands for his comfort. He couldn’t ever remember receiving such a kindness before. He turned back to face her, still sprawled and heaving on her bedroll.

“This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.” And then he was gone, striding confidently into the night.

~

He didn’t think he could hate Cazador more than he already did. But to finally savor such nourishing blood from a beautiful, willing source did not soothe him. It did not bring him relief to finally feel strong and healthy, to finally pierce the mental fog that had clouded his mind for as long as he could remember. Drinking from an oasis after subsisting on spoonfuls of fetid blood for centuries did not bring him peace, but only deepened the darkest pit of his rage.

~

Chapter 2: Gift

[tinosawruswrites]

Jealousy

Week 1: Jealousy (One-shot)

BG3 Baddies/Lilith Hell Discord server Fanfic prompt

Word count: ~5000 words

Synopsis: Astarion ponders over his irritation upon seeing Alina (Tav) sharing friendly intimacy with Gale (and Shadowheart) and attempting to deny that it stems from jealousy.

Tags/Warnings: Named Fem! Tav (Alina), OC Tav with backstory and defined personality, rogue half-elf Tav, spawn Astarion, side character Gale, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Scratch, jealous Astarion, mild spoilers for the end of Act1, angst, fluff, mentions of abuse and torture, mentions of scars from abuse/torture (back and forearms), allusions to Astarion’s past abuse, smut, penis in vagina sex, pretentious ponderings of things and feelings, endless musings and vague dialogue attempting to create subtext.

Additional notes: Huge thanks to Zaria's The Rabid House Server and those who helped by betareading and giving me grammar lessons! You know who you are! <3

It was a calm evening for once. The group was on their way towards Moonrise, taking a long rest after spending the whole day traveling over the mountain pass. Everyone was at ease, mostly, or pretending to after the dud that was the gith Créche.

Lae’zel in particular. The warrior was uncharacteristically absent, her head full of things to solve after finding out about Vlaakith’s deceit. She sat sternly at the far sidelines of the camp, deep in silent meditation, uninterested and unbothered by the others relaxing by the fire.

Astarion felt he didn’t have much in common with Lae’zel, but found himself in a similar sort of – albeit entirely different and entirely self inflicted – kind of inner turmoil.

He watched as Alina laughed with Gale near the campfire. The two sat side by side, practically glued to one another. The sight made Astarion’s mouth go uncomfortably dry and he took a slow sip from his wine goblet, holding back the grimace that formed from the sour taste of vinegar hitting his tongue.

His eyes followed the way the wizard’s hand fell on the half-elf rogue’s shoulder all too casually for his liking.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Too intimate.

But why?

He had been intimate with her, way more so than the wizard could ever hope to be.

He’d successfully seduced her and bedded her in the forest some weeks ago. After that night, he’d approached her again during the tiefling party and she had agreed to share his bedroll on more than one occasion ever since.

Hells, she sometimes approached him – the shy, timid Alina approached him, for a heated midnight tryst!

That, if anything, meant something and yet… it might have meant nothing at all.

He lowered the goblet from his lips, glaring daggers at Gale’s back from the shadows he sat under. He wished his stare would somehow sting the wizard enough to force him to keel back and remove his grubby fingers off of Alina, but nothing such happened. The wizard kept touching Alina, and the painful stings kept assaulting his own heart instead.

The way Gale could be at such ease near her, so openly enthusiastic about his boring, fringe interests and hobbies while being so godsdamned sincere about himself annoyed him to no end.

How could someone be so reckless?

How did he manage to survive this long without putting up a front and maximizing the others interest by careful analysis and then providing what the other sought according to said analysis? To him, Gale’s haphazard approach to social interactions was severely lacking and somehow the wizard was still winning and by the looks of it, bloody enjoying himself.

Astarion fixated on the hand that slid to gently pat Alina on the upper back. A spot he knew she was sensitive about anyone seeing in particular, with the ragged scars accumulated under her merciless debt owner littering the full length of it and all.

A spot, he had never directly touched as of yet himself either, and whenever he did so indirectly, made him uncomfortable, prompting him to remove his hand lest he push on her limits too hard to drive her away…

After all, she was self-conscious enough to hide them at all times, even when they had their little midnight meetings.

And there was Gale. Resting his stupid magic hand over Alina’s back so stupidly casually, not a care in the world.

The stinging in his heart began to burn like it had actually managed to carve a tiny hole through his undead flesh. He closed his eyes, lifted the wine goblet back onto his lips and took another bitter sip of the vile liquid in order to wash away some of the pain.

Gale had never laid with Alina, but was somehow closer to her, while he had, and his presence was reduced to sitting in the shadows at the edge of camp.

Not because nobody wanted him near the campfire, no. He was allowed to, maybe even welcome, but something kept him at bay.

Deep down, he knew why this was, but acknowledging such a thing would mean admitting defeat, and he was very keen on not doing so.

It was a frivolous little thing, an irritatingly ardent feeling that had made its existence known to him right after he had slept with Alina the first time. It was supposed to be a simple performance, a perfect illusion that would secure Alina’s heart under his ministrations, but each following night they shared, it became increasingly more difficult to keep the mask of indifference on his face.

He might have been intimate with Alina, but had never shared true intimacy with her.

That was the plan and it was working, so why did he still feel like he was losing? And to a socially awkward wizard no less??

“Either the wine in your cup is sour enough to crease your face, or it’s the other way around.” Shadowheart mused from the side rolling her own wine goblet in hand.

Astarion forced his face into seduction mode, easing any and all tension from his face like a magic trick.

“What ever do you mean?” He asked lifting his brows at the cleric.

Shadowheart raised her own brows up in tandem, giving him one of those sly knowing looks of hers.

“Oh, I just ought to point it out, since my wine was starting to taste oddly sour in your presence. Jealousy is a bad look on you, to be honest.”

“Jealous?? Me?” Astarion retorted with a dry laugh and his eyes fell back onto Gale and Alina.

He was about to take another sip of his wine, but froze as he witnessed Alina leaning against Gale and giving him a partial hug. Shadowheart watched as Astarion’s grip tightened around his wine goblet, threatening to break it if it was anything else but metal.

“Mmh-hmm.” She hummed swaying closer.

“For an over two centuries old immortal being you’re surprisingly clueless about things. Or just playing dumb. Which is it, actually?”

“Things? What things, girl? Be more specific,” he spat back at her.

He got another knowing look from the half-elven cleric.

“I wonder...” Shadowheart mused, now standing right next to him.

She extended an arm towards the way he was facing, pretending to scan what Astarion was looking at, as if she didn’t have the insight to what he was so miffed about.

“Oh! I see it now.” She exclaimed and settled to focus on Alina, who had her head rested against Gale’s shoulder in the distance.

“That’s what’s got you so worked up.” She looked Astarion in the eyes, the gleam in her green irises shining arrogantly bright over her clever assessment.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous. What I have with her is more than boring, innocent cuddling.”

“Oh trust me, I and the rest of the camp are well aware.” Shadowheart stepped back with an unimpressed half-smile on her lips.

Astarion smirked.

Alina was the quiet type and didn’t make much noise, unless a situation really called for it. Even her speaking voice was soft and tender, and she preferred to stifle herself even when she was in terrible pain. In contrast to this, she was surprisingly loud when she was feeling good – and Astarion knew how to make her feel way better than just good.

The morning after the tiefling party had been an extremely embarrassing event for her, when the others subtly brought it up to her during breakfast. After that, he’d made it a thing to let her howl out his name in the middle of the night every once in awhile, just as a reminder who she was tumbling with.

Astarion grinned a smug toothy grin, once again frowning at Gale’s turned back.

“Tell me then, dear Shadowheart, what is it that I’m so jealous about, if I’m so intimate with her already?”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

Shadowheart stared at him without blinking and took a long, slow drink of her wine. She tasted the wine before swallowing it and peered inside her now empty cup.

“Oh, would you look at that. All out of wine. I would ask for a refill from your bottle, but I know you’d just say no. Then again, I don’t think I’d actually want any. ‘Sour grapes’ and all.” She flashed him a brilliant smile before swaying away and joining the others near the campfire.

Astarion scoffed at the cleric, finished his own wine and remained scowling in the shadows in his own bitterness.

---

As the evening progressed, Astarion witnessed Shadowheart shooting glances back at him while pretending to be drunker than she was and leaning towards Alina, cuddling her excessively. The half-elf rogue would become flustered, but accept her companion’s innocent appearing clinginess nonetheless.

Astarion rolled his eyes at the cleric’s antics, ignoring the blatant spite thrown his way, well aware of the game she was playing.

Two could play that game, but something prevented him from stepping in and participating. He knew it would be a simple win for him – To saunter over, say “hello darling,” sit next to Alina, pull her against his body and nobody would even dare to approach her the rest of the night, no doubts about it.

But it would be a sour win on his part, because it wouldn’t be just a silly game to him at that point.

Shadowheart leaned to hug Alina, resting her head over the rogue’s shoulder to make direct eye contact with Astarion. He watched as the cleric played with Alina’s hair and how she returned the sentiment with a couple friendly strokes of her own.

Astarion just smiled at Shadowheart, feigning calmness in front of her adversarial behavior.

Much to his delight, Scratch the dog suddenly appeared and bombarded Shadowheart with a slobbery storm of affectionate licks as revenge for not paying enough attention to him.

The cleric pulled away from Alina, both hands sheltering her face from the onslaught of jealous canine love. Astarion chuckled with his book in hand, watching Shadowheart trying to fend off the furry fiend, resorting to running away altogether.

Alina laughed at Shadowheart’s mock panic and Astarion felt all the more better for it.

---

After nightfall, Astarion waited. He laid still in the silent dimness of his tent, waiting for Alina to come to him, if she ever would. He stared up at the purple fabric ceiling of his enclosed resting quarters. A lonesome wax candle provided a comfortable amount of light to ease the cold darkness of the night.

It had been a couple days since their latest meeting and he was hoping she would come by for another night of passion, especially after what transpired earlier that evening. He had a lot of things on his mind he’d want a distraction from.

He thought about how it felt when he saw Gale being so close to Alina, looking so intimate without ever having to take his clothes off or throwing himself at her.

He thought about the conversation with Shadowheart and the hesitancy he felt despite clearly being in the right.

He was right.

Because if he wasn’t, then he’d lost not only to her, but to himself as well.

The shuffle of fabric and a familiar form sliding inside his tent snapped him out of his head. A relieved smile grew upon his lips when he laid his eyes on Alina. The half-elf rogue smiled back at him, her cheeks already red.

“Hi,” she said shyly.

“Good evening, darling.”

“Do you mind some company for tonight?”

“You know I never mind if it’s you, darling.”

“You are allowed to say no if you aren’t feeling it, you know,” she countered sweetly, taking a seat next to his feet.

He said nothing to her offer, instead choosing to admire her form to further drive in her welcome status in his presence.

Alina turned to admire the solemn lonely candle glowing on the small nightstand at the corner, allowing Astarion a moment to take her in. She was donning her regular loose camp clothes: A white, long sleeved collar shirt, basic brown trousers and simple leather shoes.

An unassuming combination, that was worn more for comfort than style, hiding away most of her surprisingly curvy body.

Astarion lifted himself up to his elbows and hooked up one of his knees, giving Alina a seductive look.

“So, looking for a cuddle?” He blurted without thinking.

Alina turned her head to him, eyes wide in mild surprise.

Astarion reeled for a couple fateful seconds and attempted to remedy his momentary breach of character. He cleared his throat and fixed his smile.

“Cuddling sounds nice.” Alina tilted her head with a smile.

“Oh, but surely, you’re looking for more than just a simple cuddle, aren’t you, you sweet little thing!” He purred and watched as Alina’s cheeks grew in color.

She giggled.

“I was wondering if you’re hungry, actually.”

It was a silly question. He was always hungry. Such was the nature of being a vampire. It was still kind of her to ask such a thing, because it wasn’t a question as much it was an offer.

Astarion kept smiling and nodded. He pushed himself up to sit. Alina nodded and crawled closer. She laid herself next to him on the bedroll and scooted flush against him. He took position over her, like so many nights before.

Alina’s golden eyes blinked up at him calmly. Her gaze was relaxed and her body at ease under him despite what was to come. It was in stark contrast to their first feeding session, back when they barely knew each other and all he cared about was rebelling against his master.

Alina had been afraid. She had been tense and could barely mask the shivering of her body when he took his first drink of her delicious life blood. Since then, she’d grown accustomed to it all, the slight pain, numbness and subsequent wooziness afterwards.

Astarion had gotten better at the biting thing himself, finding a comfortable position, able to break skin without too much pain and drinking just enough to sate himself and little enough to not make Alina too ill.

He took one of her hands into his, kissed the back of it and laced their fingers together before leaning in. He rested their joined hands against the side of her head and heard a small hum escape Alina’s throat.

He could have just drunk from her wrist, but both of her forearms were littered with the same destructive marks from her debt owner as her back was. Another spot he had rarely seen and touched directly, fully covered up by her long sleeves even now.

Sensitive. Painful. Intimate.

Alina turned her head for him and exposed the column of her neck, revealing a faint set of bite marks from earlier feedings. Astarion trailed his nose along her freckled skin, hovering over her pulse point, inhaling the intoxicating scent of fresh apples and vanilla that lingered on her body and clothes.

Among her scent were hints of paper and ink, Gale’s cologne, wine and Shadowheart’s perfume.

He felt the stinging in his heart return and felt an urge to retaliate.

He could just bite harder than usual and make Alina feel a smidgen of the burning, stinging pain he was feeling inside his cold hard chest.

That, if anything, would serve her right for making him feel this way.

The sharp ends of Astarion’s fangs pressed against Alina’s subtle flesh, his breath ice cold and heavy on her skin. He opened his maw wider, ready to let the beast take over and punish her, but pulled back moments before it could.

What good would come of him inflicting more pain on her than necessary?

He was in pain and wanted her to know it. But had Alina not suffered just as much as he had already – as proven by the scars she carried on both of her forearms and back?

And unlike him, still showed him kindness, gave him comfort, forgave his shortcomings?

Astarion paused.

Those were all characteristics that pulled him towards her in the first place, what made her so malleable and quite frankly, easy to manipulate. It was also why she was so well liked by the whole camp, him included.

She was…sweet. Truly, and honestly sweet.

He couldn’t hurt her like that, shouldn’t hurt her like that.

He blinked a couple times and ran the fingers of his free hand across the side of her neck as if wiping away loose strands of her hair. The hand that clutched against his gripped harder for a moment. A signal of her continued comfort. Alina’s eyes remained closed, blissfully unaware.

She trusted him so blindly, but he could barely even grin in her presence without feeling like a fraud.

Astarion’s heart ached.

Alina was so close, and yet so far.

And no matter how many times he shed his and her clothes off, he knew that that kind of closeness would only ever be skin deep.

He swallowed and pressed a long kiss against the bite scars on Alina’s throat – like a wordless apology, seeking forgiveness for a sin he had committed against her.

He kissed her neck again and again, each time sinking lower beneath her collar, trying to make amends the only way he felt he could.

Eventually, Alina turned her head to peek at him. She raised herself slightly and brushed a hand through the side of Astarion’s face, a curious look in her eyes.

He smiled at her, hoping to come off as genuine enough.

“I find myself extremely peckish for more than just your neck tonight, darling.”

“You do?” She grinned at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling from joy.

“Hmmm.” Alina kept smiling and tilted her head, inspecting Astarion’s face.

“We can get better acquainted once you’ve had your fill.”

“You know I never have my fill, not when it’s you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you romantic you.” Alina grinned and rested her head back down, her neck fully exposed once more.

Astarion chuckled and decided not to dally any longer. He leaned back in, sinking his fangs into her neck confidently. Alina tensed momentarily, but relaxed after a while, rubbing her thumb soothingly against the hand she was still holding firmly.

Astarion sighed against Alina’s skin, tasting the heavenly nectar in his mouth, swallowing it with big earnest gulps. This was what he wished his wine goblet was filled with whenever he drank and not that rank, vile bile they carried along backpack loads of.

He reveled in her taste and the pleasant hotness that brought his body back closer to life with each swallow.

Alina’s pulse grew more erratic and he knew it was time to stop. He pulled away, licking long languid lines over the two new punctures on her skin. Alina giggled and Astarion began to kiss down towards her open collar again.

His body was practically singing to him – his usually cold limbs felt warm and lively, his skin more sensitive. All his other senses were more keen and sharp as well, his eyes able to spot the tiniest of motions, his nose the smallest of differences in scent, his ears hearing every stifled little sound.

Astarion sucked on the skin at the edges of Alina’s shirt, then bit on the fabric, playfully yanking on it with his fangs. Alina’s pulse remained high and her breathing heavy. She brushed a hand through the back of Astarion’s head, playing with the loose curls at the nape of his neck.

She unlaced their hands and reached to unbutton her shirt for him.

Astarion followed along with each opened button, kissing down the line of skin that revealed beneath the parting shirt. Alina let out pleased little gasps as he went, her hand falling behind his head again, petting through his hair soothingly.

His own breathing had grown heavier and his body was slowly reacting to Alina’s growing arousal. Yet, a part of his mind was still occupied by the way Gale and Shadowheart clung themselves to Alina, seemingly more intimate with her.

He might have held her body, but her heart was out of his reach.

His mouth fixated over Alina’s sternum, just above where her beating heart laid. His fangs dragged over her skin, the maw within him hungry to dig itself deeper and sink its fangs into the ever beating muscle.

He became aware of himself again after Alina let out a pained whimper and he saw the small bleeding scratches that his fangs had left on her chest.

He met Alina’s gaze, silent panic rising inside of him. He tried to smile it off, but felt the edges of his lips drag downwards instead.

“...Astarion?” Alina asked with worry.

Astarion panted.

He felt out of breath despite not needing to breathe at all.

“Were you still hungry…?”

“Yes, that’s it. I was just…”

He was in pain again. A deep, stinging burning inside his chest, coiling around his heart like thorny vines that were on fire. He swallowed dryly, almost missing the sour wine he had downed earlier.

He snapped back to it again when two warm hands cupped each side of his face, turning his head. He came face to face with Alina. She looked patient as a saint, kind like an angel.

“You can have more if you want,” she said softly.

“I…”

He stared into her eyes without blinking, studying the calmness of them. Her pupils were blown wide as she studied him back, her whole demeanor giving off a sense of tender affection.

With that he let Alina guide him back towards her throat. He inhaled the coppery remnants of the previous wounds and nuzzled against them.

His stomach felt comfortably warm, his vampiric hunger sated for tonight. Drinking more of her blood would help to keep it that way longer, but would do little to ease the tightness in his chest.

But admitting to something else would mean losing the game.

Astarion hesitated and kissed the wounds, then bit back through the fresh fang marks, slightly missing and punctured another set crookedly beside them. Alina let out a stifled whine. Astarion pushed Alina down against the ground, once more drinking from her like a desert during a rainstorm, unquenchable, insatiable.

He pulled away when Alina’s pulse began to dip, knowing he passed the line of comfort for her. A red tainted string of spit connected his lips to her neck. Two sets of fang marks now decorated the side of her neck, blooming red from irritation and spilled blood.

Alina panted slow and heavy, her eyes clearly more unfocused.

“… Any better?” She asked weakly.

He nodded.

His stomach felt fuller, but his chest tighter than before.

“How are you feeling…?” He asked barely above a whisper and Alina blinked up at him.

She looked paler, but her cheeks were still somewhat flushed.

“I’m fine, just a little woozy.” She smiled.

He nodded and managed a tiny smile himself.

“Fine enough to ‘get better acquainted’?” He teased.

Alina flashed him a grin and nodded.

He hadn’t lost the game.

---

Discarding both of their clothes came easy to him. Astarion did so swiftly and without any trouble, an art he had over two centuries of time to perfect.

Astarion left Alina’s shirt on as he always did, to ease her mind off of the scars on her back and forearms, even if he wouldn’t mind seeing them.

Since when did he feel this way?

He’d seen them back at the grove with everyone else. Deep, ugly gashes running every which way up and down her back. Hideous to look at. Her forearms were no better, and if it weren’t for Gale, he and everyone else would have been spared from knowing what grotesque scarring from consistent and regular torture looked like.

At the time, he felt lucky his own were just a morbid poem his master carved onto his flesh over the course of a night. A long, agonizingly painful night, but just a single night nonetheless. Still, he couldn’t bare thinking of actually seeing the scar himself and was partially glad, he probably never would have to.

Alina panted beneath him. His hips moved against hers in languid motions, controlled and automatic. Astarion had both of his hands clasped with hers on each side of her head, their fingers tightly intertwined. She was looking directly at him, her golden eyes filled with desperate want.

Her body felt hot and sweaty against him. Her core was slick and swollen from arousal, making it easy for him to keep up his pace. Alina whimpered and moaned quietly beneath him, either conscious of her own voice and purposefully keeping it down, or too tired to let the world know how good she was feeling.

Even without her usual vocalizations, Astarion knew how good she was feeling. The subtle trembles of her body, the way her back arched when he aimed his hips a certain way… It wouldn’t be difficult to force her voice out, but tonight, it didn’t feel appropriate.

Instead, he drank in the quiet noises of pleasure that slipped past her lips, satisfied by the private secrecy it gave to their little rendezvous. He smiled and increased his pace to edge her further. Alina’s jaw gaped and she let out a pitiful gasp. Her hands grasped his even tighter, her nails digging into his skin.

He smiled, enjoying the view of their group’s resourceful, witty leader rendered into soft, quivering putty in his hands.

Alina squirmed under him, a telltale sign of her approaching release.

Astarion’s flesh yearned its own release, his abdomen tightening in preparation as he watched Alina’s pleasure contorted face. It was like clockwork these days. Watching Alina as she came apart in his hands did things to him, things he never thought he could feel with another person.

Every movement came automatic to him, practiced to perfection like a rigorous dance. No room for self-expression, lest it break the fantastic illusion he was projecting. He felt himself slip away, but was immediately yanked back into the moment by hungry kisses.

Alina licked her way into his mouth, skillfully pulling all his attention back to her. She was growing so close, the way her wet folds clasped his strained length confirmed it.

He let his focus slip away in the moment, knowing once Alina reached her peak, he’d get his – a treat he got to experience almost without fail with her.

Alina’s hands slipped away from his lazy grasp and winded over and around his neck and shoulders, pulling their bodies flush together. Her soft, ample chest squished against his toned chest and her plush thighs pressed harder against his sides. One of her hands settled behind his back, while the other tangled lovingly into his hair.

His own confused hands felt around the bedroll before instinctively wrapping under Alina’s back, holding her tight.

She broke the kiss that had continued all this time and panted right next to his ear, her voice whiny and desperate.

“Astarion…!” Alina whimpered and Astarion felt a jolt run through his spine.

He rocked his hips harder and Alina’s legs fell wider apart. Her voice threatened to grow in volume and pitch, but Astarion got overwhelmed by an increasing need to keep all of this moment to himself. He sealed her mouth with his own, capturing each and every moan between his lips.

He tasted every corner of her mouth, already knowing each and every inch of it, still not bored to explore through it all over again. Alina kissed him back fervently. Her tongue pushed boldly past his back into his mouth, unafraid of the sharp fangs that might scrape and make her bleed.

Astarion moaned when he felt one of Alina’s hands stroking through his curls and lightly yanking at the strands every now and then. The hand over his back was digging its nails into his skin, a slightly painful, but welcome feeling he’d grown to enjoy.

Finally, Alina’s breathing grew erratic and her movements shaky. Astarion smiled against her lips and brought her over the edge, soon following suit. Alina’s pleasure bloomed around him, heated wetness convulsing around him as he spilled inside of her. His hips shook against her, their rhythm broken and uneven. He hummed against Alina’s lips, the blissful heat of his own orgasm washing over him.

Both of them stilled, the silence around them filled only by their heavy breathing and the occasional wet sound of their conjoined bodies still moving against one another.

Astarion moved to separate their bodies, but Alina wrapped her legs around his lower back, trapping him in place. She cupped his face with both hands and kissed him slowly. Astarion blinked in surprise and eased into Alina’s wordless demands, allowing her to shower him with more physical affection.

Usually he parted their bodies quickly after everything was done, like finishing a smooth, clean business transaction with no further clauses to fill. It was how he used to go about things. A neat modus operandi to keep things simple and to prevent himself from getting too involved.

Alina was an exception – “a regular”, as he sometimes thought to himself. He found himself slipping further from his own rules each night he spent in Alina’s embrace, lured in by her sweet nature and the gentle allure of her touch.

She caressed his cheek with a thumb.

“That felt good.” Alina said softly.

“I am well aware. You were about to wake up the whole camp again…”

Alina’s happiness died and turned to embarrassment. Her blush reached all the way up to her pointy ears.

“No I wasn’t.”

“Oh, yes you were, sweetheart.”

“I held back.” She claimed.

“Correction. I held you back.”

“Maybe.” Alina peeked to her side, feigning ignorance.

Astarion chuckled.

“I am in control of you darling.”

“Are you?” Alina tightened her legs around his lower back and rolled them over.

Astarion let out a little whimper, staring up at Alina in shock. She sat upon his hips with her back straight, hands drawing lazy patterns on his abdomen.

“You’re more than welcome to prove me otherwise.”Alina smiled and leaned down over to him.

Astarion smiled and remained where he was, allowing Alina to pull him into another slow kiss. He relaxed against her, thinking through her statement and forgot about it altogether, melting into her kiss.

All thoughts about Gale and Shadowheart were gone, pushed off the cliff of his mind into the pit of obscurity.

Alina was here, in his arms. He had her all to himself, and she had him all to herself.

He had lost the game to himself.

[songbirdtales]

Keepsakes (AstarionxTav)

Author's note:

The more I'm writing the more this is turning into the slowest of burns. IDKY I'm eating up Astarion and Gale rivalry but its fueling me lol. Enjoy!

Tav sat by the fire with a ragged stuffed bear. The tattered toy had tears in several limbs and had been partially decapitated. Tav has some rags and a needle set aside as they examine the damage, mentally calculating their supplies. 

“You’ll kill your eyes like that.” Gale stood over their shoulder, his arms crossed behind his back as he surveyed the scene.

“Good thing I’ve darkvision, yeah?” They offered him a fanged smile, the levity of conversation welcomed.

“Still, if you’ve need of, you’re welcome to use my tent. I keep it well lit for late night reading.” He was doing it again, this dance they’d been at the last few days. This dance of over generosity met with deflection when Tav would probe at his intentions. Sure, perhaps it was simply friendly companionship, but the dissonance in his words and actions made Tav feel there was something Gale wasn’t telling them.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you awake, we need you fresh tomorrow.”

Gale held his hands up as if he’d been caught in a crime. “No need to worry, I’ll be sleeping by the fire tonight. It’ll be empty regardless of me.” An arm opened to gesture back towards his tent. “You’re welcome to it as you please.”

And again they went. “Thank you, Gale. I’ll keep it in mind.” He couldn’t say much to that. Tav looked to their rags, then back up to the wizard. “Gale, could you help me with something actually?”

“Of course!” He was so eager. “How can I help?” Tav almost found themself pitying him. He wanted them so bad, and although Tav couldn’t deny there was a physical attraction, they didn’t want him like that, and they respected him too much to play with his heart.

“Do you have any scrap cloth?” Tav held up the moth worn rags, some had holes in the center with very little usable fabric, it made for a rather limited stock.”I’m trying to mend this toy I found in the village we passed through.”

“The goblin infested one? I hadn’t even noticed.” That’s what he was growing to like about Tav. They were thoughtful, even if they weren’t exactly a hero. They were a chaotic neutral soul from everything he’d seen. He didn’t mind that, but he found it unfortunate how they seemed to attract the worst kinds of characters, himself included. “I think I have a few pieces I can spare.” He nodded towards his tent. “I didn’t know you liked dolls.”

“I’m not sure I do, but mending things like this is familiar, and I could use something familiar right now.” Their eyes had turned back to the toy in their hands. They grabbed their supplies and stood, ready to follow him back to his tent, which is exactly what they hadn’t wanted to do. Still, they could keep this from escalating in a direction they didn’t want. Everything was still fine.

“I understand. I’ve been grabbing every book we pass. It’s the most I’ve read in ages. It’s comforting.” Gale said as they walked side by side to his tent. His strides were longer and quicker than Tav’s, Gale actively having to alter his pace and path to keep at their side. His body language betrayed his excitement, and Tav felt nothing at the sight but anxiety. Tav paused beside his sitting cushion as Gale stepped forward, kneeling into the tent and gathering some slashed clothes. “There you are,” Gale beamed as he handed the cloth to Tav.

The cloth was good quality, heavy and strong, but it had been brutally cut up in battle to the point it wasn’t much worth repairing. The blood had been mostly washed out but the reminisce of stains lingered. All in all, there was more than enough good fabric for their bear.

“You really took a beating the other day…” Tav mused as they looked over the torn robe. They’d not really thought much about how brutal the Gnoll on the road had been.

“You should have seen the other guy.” He joked back, laughing a little until he noticed Tav wasn’t laughing back. He quickly tamped the laughter down to awkward silence.

Tav offered Gale a soft smile. “I’m glad you’re ok Gale. You’re a valued part of this party, and I don’t know how we’d fare without you. So, do try to be more careful, yeah?”

“Of course.” He said with a nod, his eyes struggling to keep contact with Tav’s demonic glow. His gaze only turned up when Tav spoke again.

“Well, I better get started if I want to get some sleep tonight.” Tav said as they switched spots with Gale, his body naturally following their movement as if they were both being pushed by opposite currents. Tav got down and crawled in, sitting in the pile of cushions Gale had amassed and formed into a reclined seat. They curled their legs up, propping their supplies on their thighs as they began to tear the gifted cloth into smaller segments.

Gale didn’t leave, sitting down on the cushion outside. He grabbed something nearby to seem as though he had a task himself, but it was truly just an excuse to watch Tav work. Tav didn’t mind, even if they saw his act for what it was. Eventually he actually did become fixated on his task, the two working silently, fueled by the other’s presence. It was peaceful, familiar, like working in a library. Gale had no idea how long they had been at this, but as he pulled himself from his work to speak to Tav, he paused.

Inside the tent Tav was passed out in his pillows. The bear had been noticeably mended in parts, but it was not yet done. Gale got up from his seat and kneeled into the tent. His hand reached for the blanket, pulling it across the tent to gently drape it over Tav. A warm smile bloomed on his lips as he let them sleep. Only then would Gale leave, heading back to the fire.

“There you are,” The annoyance in Astarion’s voice was palpable as he approached Gale at the fire. “Where have you been off to?”

Gale knew the smell of jealousy well, and Astarion was worse than he’d like at hiding it. “Just doing a little late night carving.” Gale reached in his pocket and produced a small wooden figurine. It was crudely carved, but even Astarion had to admit it vaguely resembled a cat in a cat’s most basic shape.

Astarion stared at the deformed wooden cat for a moment before looking up at Gale with the least amusement Gale had ever seen from him. “Do you know where Tav is?”

Gale had to actively resist smiling but the faintest glimmer of a triumphant grin couldn’t help but pull at his lips. He’d cross his arms over his chest. “I do.” He said simply and curt as if he had no intention of elaborating. Anger twitch to Astarion’s face, and just as he was just about to speak, Gale spoke again, cutting him off. “They’re already asleep for the night. Poor thing, utterly exhausted. I’d let them be.”

Astarion’s face had more warmth to it than Gale had ever seen, the heat of his anger barely contained. “I asked you a question. Do not make me repeat myself.” That normally beautiful face was twisted and sharp as Astarion glared daggers into the human wizard. 

The grin grew broader across Gales lips at Astarion’s posturing and he’d nod back over his shoulder. “I thought it best to leave them be.” He was so smug about it, as if he’d won some unspoken competition.

Astarion glanced over in the direction Gale had gestured quickly at first before realizing Gale had nodded to his tent. His gaze came back to Gale as a glare. “No need to make things weird, Gale. We’re all adults here.” If his tongue wasn’t so sharp, Gale might have noticed the projection in Astarion’s words, but both men were preoccupied with their egos. The condescension in his voice was cutting, leaving Gale speechless long enough for Astarion to turn sharply away and saunter off.

Gale sighed as the Elf departed, a wave of relief washed over him that his jugular was still intact. “Dramatic.” He finally scoffed.

Astarion was at Gale’s tent in a matter of strides. Still fuming, he knelt beside the opening of the tent and pulled the flap aside with his arm. The sight of Tav, fully clothed, dead asleep, with a partly repaired stuffed toy was not what Astarion had been expecting. Instantly the wind was knocked out of his anger and the fire of it died, leaving Astarion frozen. Any action he’d thought to take was now wildly dramatic if not inappropriate… for a moment he was almost aware of his jealousy, until Tav stirred.

A soft, sleepy sound came from Tav as one eye struggled to pull itself half open. Their arms were just about to start pushing themself up when Astarion reached out a hand. He didn’t touch them, but his hand hovered just overtop their back. They didn’t push up into the hand, they didn’t have the strength. They were exhausted from the near daily feeding.

“Hush, go back to sleep.” He urged in a sweet whisper as his eyes turned about the tent. Gale had this packed with all sorts of magic nonsense, but his eyes fell back to the stuffed bear. He was fascinated instantly, not because of the toy, but because of the magic radiating from it. They had pulled apart Gale’s bloodstained shirt for thread and stitched it in a way he’d seen before from the witches of Baldur's Gate, a way of hiding protections and curses in the stitch and weave of clothing. Though in this instance it was very rudimentary, Astarion couldn’t help but wonder how a tiefling bard knew such magic. 

“Are you hungry?” Even half asleep, Tav’s mind was preoccupied with the camp, making sure everyone was safe. He almost admired that about them, if only for the wrong reasons. He was impressed that someone could have the willpower to keep all of this together.

“Not tonight darling.” His hand reached for their hair, gently shifting some loose strands from their face. He’d lean over to their ear and whisper,  “Sweet dreams,” as Tav’s eye fell shut once more.

He lingered, hesitating, his eyes shifting back to the bear before deciding it was best to leave what questions it gave him till the morning. Astarion would wait until he’d gotten a few steps from the tent before letting his real thoughts catch up to him. He was hungry, but a boar would have to suffice. It would look bad on him to drink Tav’s blood while they’re passed out in another person’s tent, and he needed to keep appearances up if his very simple plan was to succeed.

The next morning Tav woke up early. Gale had aligned some objects in his tent to take the first light of dawn and amplify it and wake him, Gods did it work, Tav almost wished it hadn’t. They were groggy, vision fading in and out of focus as they crawled out into the sunlight. They sat on their knees and stared at the horizon in silent reverence for a time. Their thoughts swam with everything that had happened leading up to the blighted village; the abandoned temple, the grove. It all came back like recalling a vivid dream, surreal and fragmented, yet so clear. 

They let their eyes close as the still cool air washed over them. Tav’s breath fogged in the morning chill as they let out a deep, tired yawn. Their fangs snapped as they closed their mouth and rubbed the sleep from their eyes. As they crawled back in the tent to retrieve their craft, they noticed something shine in the morning light. A single white hair. Tav cocked a brow but gathered it with the rest of the fabric and the bear.

Everyone was still asleep as Tav ted lightly towards and past the fire. Even Astarion was still in his trance from what it seemed so Tav went towards the river. As soon as their back was turned, a sanguine eye popped open. Astarion was silent as he followed Tav towards the water. He watched as Tav washed their hands and face in the running water before settling on a rock and pulling their bear back out.

“Good morning, Darling.” He watched them closely, the breaking of the silence practically made Tav jump but they didn’t hide their work. They’d been threading their needle and paused, tucking the needle into the bear so as to not stab themself with it on accident.

“Good morning,” Tav sighed in relief, a soft smile pulling across their face before their hand twirled in a flourish towards him. “You dropped something in Gale’s tent.” They held out the single silver hair between two fingers, offering it back to him. “You should be more careful with a wizard.”

Astarion scoffed and looked between Tav and the hair. “How do you know that’s mine?” The two stared silently at each other for a long moment, Astarion set in his flimsy denial as Tav’s hair was much longer, much more yellow, and much less curly than the strand in question. He’d groan a little. “Fine, yes, it’s mine.” A hint of irritation simmered in his tone before shifting into that arrogant sarcasm. “I’m surprised you’re giving it back instead of using it in your little curse doll, make me fall in love with you.”

Tav choked on laughter, doubling over as their cheeks puffed before their lips burst open. Their hand clapped over their mouth to muffle the sound so as to not wake the others. “I don’t need magic to steal a heart.” 

They turned their hand down, ready to flick the hair away towards him but Astarion reached out to snatch it before they could. He didn’t keep it, brushing it off his hand on his trousers. Tav looked back down to the bear and held it up a little. 

“Besides, these are for protection. It’s something my mother taught me to do. When I saw this in the rubble, I thought I might give myself something familiar to do. This one’s for Gale, since it’s got his blood and all on the thread.” Those blue eyes turned up to Astarion curiously. “I can make one for you next time I find a stuffed animal.”

“Don’t expect me to give you my bloody drawers.” Astarion huffed.

“No need for that.” Tav was still chortling as they picked up their needle to resume work. “I'll be honest the blood was dramatic of him, but I’m thinking of making one for everyone. Give my hands something to do while we travel.”

“Really?” His tone shifted as he leaned just a little closer, that perfect, sly smile on his lips. Tav knew a performance when they saw one, and this was well rehearsed. “Nothing else to busy your hands with?”

Tav knew this game, bored flirtation. It was one of their favorites, and considering there was nothing else to do besides fixate on the imminent fear of death, why not play along? Their hair swayed as they tilted their head, strands still caught in their horns and loose down their back. Their hair was long, past their shoulders and with a hint of a wave. “Yet.” They hummed in response, a curious look on their face, studying his reaction.

Astarion recoiling as a very confused “What?” come from him before he’d clear his throat. He wasn’t used to someone flirting back, normally they were too intimidated. “I mean, What about your uh, violin? Or is it a Lute?”

Tav backed off, their smile growing wider at his stumbling words. “I’m fine playing classics by the fire, but I’m a bit reluctant to work on my own stuff around the fire with strangers. Besides, most of them want to sleep as soon as we get back to camp. I'm not gonna keep them up.”

“Oh come now,” He’d put the charm back on, gesturing to the camp. “I’m sure Gale would be thrilled.”

Tav’s face soured, their nose scrunching a little as their lips thinned. “Yeah…” They didn’t seem excited by the idea. “You… never heard me play in Baldur’s Gate, did you?”

Astarion laughed and found himself a seat on a nearby stone. “Darling, I have no idea who you are beyond our time together with the rest of our companions.” Tav squinted as they caught sight of a glimmer of honesty. When he didn’t care about something, he had no filter, and in that they could see just a hint of what hid behind the mask.

An easy smile grew across Tav’s lips. “What kind of music do you think I make?” They asked with pure amusement.

Astarion stared blankly at Tav for a moment, blinking a few times as the gears in his head turned. “What other kind of music do bards make besides adventure ballads?”

Tav instinctively covered their mouth as they laughed again, truly amused by his ignorance. It drew Astarion’s eye instantly. “I mostly sing about grief and death, heartbreak and vengeance. It’s not exactly the mood I want to bring to camp.”

“It can’t be that bad.” He said as he crossed his arms. “Come, let me hear some of this emotional music. It can’t be that much of a downer.”

Tav rose a brow, his challenge wordlessly accepted. They reached into their back for a small book where they worked out their lyrics. “Here’s something I’m still working on.” They cleared their throat and began reading the lines like poetry. It was an eloquent verse, and very clearly described having dreams of murdering their own father.

Astarion was thrown off in a completely new way. The longer they read for, the more his expression contorted as Astarion tried to mask his concern. They only got two lines in before Astarion held one hand out and averted his gaze. “Th-that’s enough. I get it.”

“Yeah,” Tav was holding back laughter. “I don’t need to be playing songs like that at a time like this. I’ll get my musical fix by playing their favorites by the fire, but I figure it’s better to save the heavy stuff.” Their eyes turned to the sky, the sun was just about to peek over the trees, the morning star fading as the sky lost its pastel hues. “Never gets old.” They sighed, as the sun came up and the warmth of its light washed over them both. 

Astarion flinched instinctively before letting out a deep sigh of relief. “No, it does not.”

They sat in the silence of the sunrise for a moment before Tav’s voice gently broke it. “I know everythings scary right now, but I truly believe that if we stick together, we can survive this. And if not, at least we’re free, for what it’s worth.”

“I think freedom’s worth everything.” His eyes were fixed on the water, watching the river glisten as it ran. The flashes reflected in his eyes, making them sparkle like rubies.

Tav let themself stare for longer than they should have, taking in the contours of his features, the shapes of his shadows, the lines in his skin. They didn’t care if he caught them, though he seemed too fixated on the water to notice. “So do I.” Tav’s voice melted into the sound of the river, so soft Astarion barely registered they’d said anything at all.

By the time he’d looked back to them, Tav was standing, holding the now fully mended bear in their hands. They tilted their head as they gazed at the bear, checking their work. They bit their lower lip in thought, as if trying to remember a forgotten step. Finally, they went to the river crouched beside the edge. With one finger, Tav reached to wet their nail, holding the drop in the carved point of their nail before bringing it to the forehead of the bear. The toy looked a little cleaner, Astarion could even feel the magic of it was more pure. The protection charm was complete. 

“I’ll try to find you a different animal. Maybe a goose?” They said with a joking smile.

Astarion clicked his tongue, squeezing his still folded arms as he pouted. “Take your time.” He had no desire for a hagcraft charm.

Tav shook their head as they left Astarion at the riverbank. The elf glanced back towards the fire to see Tav giving the now well awake Gale the bear. He seemed more fascinated with the magic than the bear itself and began to info dump about thread based magic.

Astarion’s face felt relatively hot as anger gathered in him. He covered his face with a hand as his mind still raced from that one word. He didn’t like this, whatever feeling this was. He didn’t recognize the feeling as it gathered in his core, this twisting in his guts, as if he’d eaten something rotten, yet still starved. Was it really hunger? He’d fed that night and this felt different. He’d already made them his mark, so why was he starting to panic?

It was then that a new thought came to Astarion, what if Tav can see through his game? How well could he really wrap them around his finger if they knew it was fake? And what did that mean for the security of his simple plan?

[thechaoticdruid]

Bg3 sims shenanigans

Wyll and Winnie (Tav) dancing

Because of budget cuts we had to shoot this scene at the Elfsong.

And because sims are sims they decided to go all the way outside to slow dance.

*Le gasp* the plot thickens!

[meowsgirldrawing]

Prince Astarion vs Princess Anna (BG3)

Prompt: The ragtag gang of tadpole holders saves a princess (daughter of a grand duke) from a miserable fate by some monsters, then decides to help escort her back to her town. Astarion didn’t mind any of this, but after weeks since his and Tav’s exchange of real affections and confessions, he’s not too keen on allowing her fluttering eyelashes and obvious thing for heroes to go on any longer.

Note: Tav is a tiefling in this, because I love tieflings so much, but I'm trying to keep it mostly open so people can imagine their Tav's easier. More or less a little self-indulgent on my part.

Warnings: Little spicy moment, nothing explicit, just Tav and Astarion being in love and maybe a little bitey here and there. 🤷‍♂️Cussing, noble insults, some violence but it's Baldur's gate so nothing new right?

Word Count- 9,948 (I was having fun, alright? Sue me)

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“Let’s save the little princess, they said!”    “It’ll be harmless, they said!”   Astarion bristles, leaned up on the tough wood pole that holds up his tent. The pure white pup beside him pays no attention, his gnawing noisy and breaking the air occasionally with happy whimpers. “I mean really??” He manages to keep his words low-ish, but his hand movement, flaring up in mock dismissal, is rather the opposite. “Who does that little minx think she is?-”   “GO WYLL, GO!” Karlach’s booming voice interrupts him. Loud enough that Scratch finally peers up, tail wagging. Oh so you’ll ignore me but as soon as the big fire lady says one word-   Not that Scratch really needs to listen anymore, Astarion trails off, finally resuming on the scene before him. The scene he was so diligently watching for a few reasons only before his disgust came filtering in.  

Gale steps up, settling in beside Karlach,  “Do we really need to do this?”  “Have a little fun, Gale,” Tav huffs lightly, playfully, as they snatch up another log and set it up in the stump, axe glinting in the sunlight from their hand.  

“Of course we do! Since Tav thought it was oh so wise to comment-“   “It was just a joke, Wyll-“ They try.   “On my “princely-ness” I must show them exactly how prince-like I can be!” His shirtless chest puffs up in confidence, or faux bravo as Tav rolls their eyes and sighs. And that is through a friendly log-chopping competition apparently.   “Tsk’va-“ Lae’zel settles up next to Gale’s side, her eyes focused on the pile beside the two morons. “As long as we get firewood, I don’t care how it’s done.”   Tav nods, grateful “Thank you, sweet Lae’zel. See Gale, it’s harmless my guy!”   Lae’zel does her dismissal words, rolling her eyes. The friendliness form of ‘no problem’ a Githyanki, at least their favorite one, can offer apparently. 

  What? No, the competition is certainly not Astarion’s source of disgust. The sight of a bare chested, years of fighting showing in rippling muscles, Wyll going against their broad-shouldered, built in both structured and height Tav, whose upper half is covered by a mere tank top. That is absolutely not it. If anything, he could sit there all day watching both go at it like morons over a simple joke.  And no, it’s not how he can clearly see the others taking in the sight as well. Gale watches in more amused confusion compared to most, but if you looked harder, his eyes are certainly not straying from either’s form.  Karlach’s tail wags lightly, while her eyes glim with her hearty laugh. Perhaps if she wasn’t already burning up from her engine, she’d probably be visibly burning up in another way. Still, her focus is on Wyll, amused and thoroughly intrigued.

Lae’zel’s possibly the only one who isn’t doing much leering, but she isn’t so innocent. She goes from watching their forms swing down the axes on Tav’s call to being unable to take her eyes off Tav’s arm stretching out for another log. She huffs but does nothing more besides crossing her arms. He can’t blame them, not at all, his Tav alone is a sight to behold. Not to mention their overall friendly and sweet persona that takes no real effort, a gentle giant is what he’s heard multiple times by Shadowheart. Added with Wyll, an admittedly gentleman despite his profession at slaying off monster heads, his demeanor also alone can melt the strongest of hearts.  Pair them together, and you got a nice show to sit back and enjoy. Especially with the banter thrown left and right.   “Ready to give up, Tav? Even by your tail I can tell you’re struggling.” He grins, eyes crickling in mirth.   Tav scoffs, their tail adjusting the log before swinging back to behind them. “Try me, warrior boy. I’m just getting started!”   “Well-” At the next call, both heave up their axes and slit the wood in two. 4 more added to their respective collections. “So am I, my friend!”   Astarion’s lip quirks, but then turns into a full frown as soon as he hears it again.   A high pitched giggle.   A little ways behind the two competitors, there sits a young woman in a fair and fluttery day gown, dark long locks curled over her shoulder, manicured and well cared for hands trail near her full and red lips as she giggles out her response, “You’re doing just amazing, both of you!” But her eyes stay on Tav. His Tav.

  His lip curls, eyes piercing from the other side of the camp. There she is, the little princess he and his group just so happen to come across when dealing the final blows on a goblin camp.   Annalisa, or rather, Lady Annalisa-Daughter and heir of Duke Salton. Who just so happens to be from the town they planned to head to next before her untimely landing into their group.   They had just taken down the last of the slavers; Astarion retching his arrow from his latest kill’s head. He grimaces as he looks over the chip on it’s side. Great now he has to make a new one. He’s all too ready to un-proudly announce his discovery and wills to leave, but an explosion cuts him off. His companions all brace themselves at the sudden arrival of flames. Gale whipping up a new spell, one to counter fire possibly. Lae’zel who didn’t even put her sword away yet, already making her stance beside Tav. Tav slides out their last blade, their other one lost in one of the bodies scattered about them, yet freezes. Tail stiffening up high.

“HELP!”

There, on the cliff side connected to the burning stairway, stands a young woman, arms tied infront of her, a makeshift gag hanging around her sweating throat as she peers down at them with a crazed fear in her eyes. She must’ve been one of the most recent captures, if her ripped and ruffled clothes and tangled hair have anything to show for it. She’s going from them to the burning stairway, “It’s too hot! I can’t make it!” Gale tries to shoot out his spell, but- surprise, it just grows further. Licking up the sides of the cliff she’s on, the woman is tittering back as a scream tears from her throat. Ringing through their ears and into the night sky.

“There must be a source fueling it on the other side.” Lae’zel deducts. “Shit.” Astarion glares at the flames. His mind reeling for ideas.

Before anyone else lets out another word, Tav rushes forward. Their dagger making a mark in the dirt as it lands. Boots thump hard against the earth all while they ignore the calls from their companions. As they get as close to the fire as safely possible, arms fly forward in an improve net.

“Come on! I got you!” “What?!” She gapes at them. “Jump and I’ll catch you!” “But-“ “Theres wooden planks under you, yes?! It won’t be long before that ground is covered too, so jump!” The woman whimpers, tears fueled with fear drip down her cheeks, “I can’t!”

Astarion, from his position amongst the others’, can’t see it but something changes with Tav that has the woman altering aswell. They’re smiling.

With a friendly grin as sweat drips down their forehead, dirt and blood milled on their armor, the Tiefling simply lifts their arms more at her, “I promise you can! I’ll be right here for you!” Something shifts in the woman’s gaze, but she nods, backing up. She’s still shaking. “Y-you’ll…you won’t drop me?” She begs, and it could almost break Astarion’s undead heart. Could…if his heart wasn’t so set on the sight of his lover literally on the edge of flames.

“Of course I won’t!” Tav actually laughs. They have a way of keeping the air light, even in the most heated environments. A skill they use especially now, the gentle giant keeping their expression light and open as they call out to the frightened young lady, “You have my word, I won’t let you go for even a second!”

Another stilling moment. Another moment were Lae’zel almost decides to go up there herself to get the woman off. Another of Gale searching his mind for any fire deucing spell as a backup plan. Another moment of Astarion glancing from the flames to Tav, not liking the lack of distance as flames brew. “Tav-!”

Then she falls. Astarion feels his words lodge in his throat, his yell coming out instead. All as Tav ducks further near the flames, arms awaiting for the impact. Fire licks at their arms as the woman is caught, before swiftly pulling out. They twirl on their heel, yanking both to the arms of safety. Just as another explosion lets off. Immediately covering the area Tav once took.

He knows damn well their resistance to fire is apparent. Still, he’d rather them be afraid of it or wary at the very least than walking into it, arms open. Literally. It didn’t help that as soon as the bindings were off, gag cut from her throat, the woman turned to his lover with the sweetest little smile, “My hero!” She sung.

Lae’zel merely rolled her eyes at it, stashing her sword away. Gale chuckles, an anxious finger scratching at his beard. Tav blinked but soon chuckles, a palm at their neck, “It was nothing.”

Yet the praises kept coming. And to the point were a side of Astarion wished they never even found the practical puppy at their presence. Especially when Tav later got it out of her that she was the daughter of a Duke, having been snatched up in the night, ending up with a bunch of slavers who’d sell her off for some dirty coin. And especially when her hand lingered, cupping their bicep far too long for his liking.   Now…

“HELL YEAH!” Karlach’s engines spur, her excitement fueling Gale’s astonished laugh. Wyll had won.

“Well,” Tav gives a laugh of their own, offering up a handshake. A nice show of good sportsmanship. “Congratulations, my friend, you know how to chop wood faster than I.” Their hands clasp together as both allies grin.

“Oh, don’t beat yourself too hard, pal. I’m sure you have more suitable talents that will show themselves soon enough.” As Tav barks a laugh, giving good ol’ Wyll a pat on the back, one that has him stumbling forward some, Astarion immediately notices movement behind them.   He can’t even get up before Annalisa is running words off her tongue. “That was wonderful, Tav!” Her fingers tangle together, the show of shying as her eyes can’t necessarily stay on Tav too long. If you’re too shy to say one sentence, perhaps you shouldn’t speak at all. “37 logs in an 30 minutes…that m-must be a record of some kind.”

His eyes jump to Tav. Desperately hoping no expression can have his chest squeezing uncomfortably. They smile, cheeky, “Oh you don’t have to save my ego, Anna. I stopped counting by the 12th, I simply wanted to see how much Wyll had in him for such a short time.”   “And yet,” An arm is wrung around their neck, tugging them down a slight. Wyll’s horn knocking into theirs lightly, almost as much as a hip bump, “I still obtained 51. I’d say keep the compliments coming, Lady Anna! This one might need it.” He gently pats their shoulder, as if consoling them.

 At that, Tav’s eyes roll and they’re shoving the Warlock off. Both he and Anna, who once the woman realizes the playfulness, are swept into a small fit of laughter each.

  The camp air is light, a nice break from the overall dampening gore and violence that plagues their days. The scene, seeing his companions tossing banter back and forth, doesn’t exactly feel exclusive for Astarion. He feels fine, watching the others prattle around like children.

His only wish..

For Anna to finally give an extra meter to the feet apart she is from Tav. Like 12 meters, perhaps 15 if he were so lucky.

Or rather simply..or kindly drop dead. Either way satisfies Astarion.

--------------------------------------------   It’s late. Crickets are alive and making their music to the world known. Distant owls coo and stay wary of the fire crackling in the middle of the camp. Or rather it’s people surrounding it.   Wyll and Jaheria have already staggered off to bed, the high moon clear to everyone of it’s dark hours. Halsin too, the druid tired from a long day of happily helping Tav on their village run. They plan to stay one more night before packing up and heading off to the next area, the one where Anna will be promptly dropped off and their next assignment picked up.

The only people left up and about were Shadowheart, Gale, and Lae’zel. For once, the two women aren’t at each other’s throats, simply for the nice reason of Tav and Astarion settled in between their positions. Oh and Karlach’s watchful but friendly eye from her bedroll, chatting easily with Gale over a new spell he’s experimenting with at the moment. She may look lost, tad confused, but whose to say she isn’t interested to some degree. Especially with how hyped up the little wizard, half her size, prides himself joyously.   Astarion huffs, “Did you really have to go on and handle that heinous creature all by yourself??” Ah yes, what the camp lovebirds were up to. He tugs their arm closer, pushing their rolled up sleeve higher. Only to reveal more purple and blue forming at it’s slow-ish pace.

“Halsin was already busy with the herb finding, “ Tav’s eyes nearly roll to the back of their head, “If I didn’t settle the horse down quickly, I’d possibly have more than scrapes and bruising.” “And your response was to go to it’s front and stand in the cross fire of it’s flying, hard hooves?” Shadowheart chimes in, her held tilt making her pause in her fire poking.   “I’ve handled horses before, I knew what I was doing.” They defend again. “Yes, and now you being a moon painting on legs is clear proof of such knowledge.” Astarion drops their arm into one elbow, throwing up the other. His face twisted in clear and loud irritation. “I’m fine, Star,” Their laugh breaks out at the sight. Pulling the arm out and behind his shoulders, they tug him close, “At least they are just bruises-“   “Big, growing bruises as we speak-“   “Bruises, Astarion! It’ll heal in a few weeks from now and I’ll be back to my regular color in no time.” He wants to push further, wants to lecture them until they agree to not even look another horse again. But with their cheek rubbing into his hair, hand trailing on his side in a gentle caress, his argument is faltering. He huffs, ‘attacking’ their arm in a light slap around the wrist. They feign an OW! Chuckling into his white curls.

“I swear, if Halsin comes back again with a report of you being a complete and utter idiot-“  “You know very well it’ll continue, why even threaten them in the first place?” Lae’zel mutters aloud, her steel sharpener giving little shrieks with each slide.   “Well-“   “Hello everyone!” That voice chirps rather loudly from behind. Tav’s grip loosens in a way that has Astarion growling from his throat at two things instead of one. Shadowheart shoots him a look he arrogantly ignores. Tav’s head twists, a smile quirking up on their features. “Hey, Anna!”   The princess beams, cutting around the log the two sit on and coming into everyone’s view. What she has in her hands, or rather platter, has Shadowheart furrowing her brow and lightly tilting her head, “What you do have there, Anna?”

“Drinks! Gale showed me the recipe.” If she wasn’t holding the platter, she’s sure to be fiddling with her fingers. Her head faces downward instead. So shy and sweet. Astarion’s grip on Tav’s waist grows. Enough so that Tav takes their attention of Anna and to their vampire lover, eyes asking ‘are you ok?’ He simply flashes a smirk, waving off their comment and detaching from them. Fast and quick. Like a youngling found out by their parents.

Tav’s concern only grows. Astarion, while fine flaunting their relationship around of the rest of their misfit crew- holding hands as they tred along, pulling them down for a quick peck before splitting off, showing no shame as he walks out of their tent at early sunrise- he’s surely one to tone it down in front of strangers unless he feels reason not to. Like at the festival they recently went to, the one with the druid and her love test, he was proudly holding their palm and strutting along like a newly wed afterwards. It must be that.

Their face tenses a little, concern warping their brow. As much as they want to ask further, wane for an answer, they know it won’t help. Most definitely not while in front of their crew plus Anna. Astarion will always refer to their shared tent if he had a problem, somewhere private and safe. Easy for him to unload whatever plagues him. It must be that. Hopefully, he can talk then.   When Anna isn’t looking, they check and peck his forehead, all before releasing him themselves. He doesn’t react, eyes on Anna.   She passes around the drinks, all merrily and happy as can be. A hum to her lips, eyes crickled and flashing with joy every time someone thanks her for their drinks. Of course Astarion doesn’t miss the lingering fingers against Tav’s as she hands over theirs. He keeps his hiss quiet and nudges closer to their side once she changes course.

She still smiles as she offers up her gifts to Astarion and Lae’zel. To which Lae’zel declines, her palm up as she critically eyes the concoction, “ Is it sweet?” “Of course, I-“ “Then I have no need for it.”

Astarion giggling mind stirs at Anna’s slightly puppy, dejected face, all before being put to a stop by Anna’s switch to him. “Would you like a cup, Astarion?” She flutters sweetly.

He hums, staring at the juice that came from that of an apple. If he has his scents correct.  He lets a smile polite enough to etch on his face, “Apologies, my dear, but fruit isn’t for me. I prefer something with a different type of juice.”

Tav nearly chokes on their latest sip. So does Shadowheart, who giggles rather nervously. Anna, feeling a joke she’s missed out on, doesn’t take it to heart. She tilts her head but accepts his decline with a light expression.

Gale immediately recognizes the flavor as it hits his tongue, awing in gratitude, “Oh, Anna! This is amazing! It hits the nerves just right.” She bows her thanks, “Thank you, Gale, where had you learn this recipe anyway? I found it the most fun to experiment my brewing skills with!” “My mother,” He says as proudly as he always mentions her, “After spells and incantations, my mother made and taught me such wonderful recipes the Dekarios family has been passing down from generation to generation.”

“Well, remind me to give my additional thanks to Momma Dekarios, this is awesome, Anna!” Karlach as always, is loud in her approval. She swallows down a gulp, licking up the excess as a hearty smile dawns her face.

---------------------------------------- “If you don’t mind my asking….how’s Tav?”   It’s about time the fire is put out and people retreating into their tents for the long day tomorrow. Gale pauses in his storing, leftover porridge poured into a sealable bowl for another time. Shadowheart too, her bedroll under her arm and a second one, for Anna, on the ground next to her. “How’s Tav? As in health or character?” Gale can’t recall anything odd about Tav. They finished their fill and left a little soon after, yawing out a goodnight as Anna left for a moment. Of course with the oh so friendly vampire of the group not too far from following suit.

Kalach did the same after another fill of the juice Anna shared before heading off to her bedroll. Anna blinks, “Oh, character! I’m sorry, I’m merely curious as I seem to know only one side while everyone else is more or less open in comparison.”

Ah that’s true. As open as a listening Tav is, their stories and dreams aren’t shared as much amongst the group. They only want to focus on others, not themselves. Shadowheart, with a knowing chuckle accompanying, tells Anna such. “Don’t take it personally, Tav has always been that way. It’s rare to see any drastic difference.” To be fair, they can’t seem to remember half their life story, amnesia being a killer on their soul.

Gale nods along, “But what we do know is they have a good heart despite it, always willing to help, even if they could loose limb or life along with way.” “They are also such a jokester, don’t forget,” The bedroll spreads, palms finding rocks and nicks in the dirt and pulling them out from beneath, “Gods only know how that mind works for the especially stupidest ones.” Anna giggles, taking the last of the supplies from Gale. Who smiles in thanks. “Oh really? Well, I did get a hint of that with Wyll that one time.”   Gale’s head tips back, long tangles waving down, as he groans out, “Oh they have been much worse from that.”   Anna hums, eyes thinking, “So…uhm…is Tav perhaps..single?”   That, not Gale’s ice spell for the cooking fire, freezes them. They share a look and glance back to a fidgeting Anna. Did she not see Tav and- A wince pulls on Gale’s face, apologetic almost,“Anna-“ You gotta give it to him, he tries.   “I’m sorry!” Her hands fly, “I’m sure they have a different life behind this whole journey you are all gathered for, but I simply can’t help but ask! They seem so sweet and noble, not to mention so handsome and beautiful! I couldn’t help but become curious.” Her cheeks are aflush, bright red upon fair skin.

Yet they can’t get an answer out. Gale flushes, remembering all the times he’s accidentally stumbled upon a sneaky Astarion and flustered Tav in his search for privacy in the woods, all to the point he thinks some are purposeful. Shadowheart feels the same. The tadpole isn’t active, but she still ends up in the same predicament. Flashes of glimpsing at their tangled hands as the two converse at the back, shared pecks (mostly Tav to Astarion) when they think no one is paying any attention, lovey-dovey shit that can make anyone, relationship or not, feel as single as a tree in baren woodlands. “Anna-“ Gale tries again.

Anna cuts him off again, “You know what, I’m too tired, that’s it! Let’s forget this ever occurred, please!” She winds up snatching up her bedroll from a grimacing Shadowheart, tucking tail and fluttering off with a short but rushed, “Good night, my friends!” over her shoulder.   At the silence that follows, the two left behind blink at one another. “Oh..Astarion is going to loose it.” Shadowheart clicks her tongue. Remembering all the times Astarion smirks as Tav’s attention flies to him instead of anyone else, Gale can’t help but agree wholeheartedly.

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“Excuse me?” The hiss hits Gale hard enough that he’s no longer wondering why Shadowheart left the idea up to him. His fingers trail up to rub his forehead, he feels Astarion boring into him, red eyes pinched in a sneer.   “She merely asked a question-“   “Yes, a simple and innocent question on if MY lover was single or not.”   “I tried to tell her no!” He whisper-shouts back, eyes drawing up to meet his. “She flew off like a scared squirrel before either of us could tell her such!” So much for being a good friend and trying to warn Astarion ahead of time. Ugh..he should have went to Tav themselves instead. They’d at least wouldn’t keep interrupting him. “Look, I’m not one to go about messing with anyone’s relationships, but I think the best thing is talking to either Tav or Miss Anna or both.” He waves his hand around, “Clear the air so they say.”   “You’re right, surprisingly.” Astarion blinks. Gale pauses, still walking beside him. Is he actually going to- “You aren’t one to go about messing with relationships, at least until after you get it through that oddly shape skull of yours that it isn’t your place.” And that’s how the small spark of hope of Astarion’s redemption arc died in Gale’s heart. His shoulders lower in his defeat. But perk right back up as a palm slaps on his and another onto Astarion’s shoulders. “What we talkin’ about?” A sharp whisper fills his ears. Astarion jerks, Gale just about yelps out his soul. Both turn, meeting dark eyes of their favorite baalspawn of the group. They grin, eyes hooded, “What? You boys kept whispering a little too much, Tav asked me to check on ya’ll!”

“Durge!” Astarion, once again, hisses with their common nickname, “Did you really have to sneak up on us?”   “You’re a rouge..” They blink slowly, diligently, as if the concept should be obvious to all, young and old, “You didn’t think to keep an eye on your own purse?”   “I think you meant to say back.” Gale’s head tilts. Astarion’s hands start wandering around, patting his sides.   “Nope.” Astarion confirms the opposite, a grumble falling as his gaze clicks upwards. The well flourish decorated pack goes bouncing from the little rope that secures it as it hangs from their grasp. Their lip bit in their covered chuckle.

The bag is snatched, Astarion stuffing it as deep as it can go in his pocket, stink eye glaring down at the thief in front of him. Gale picks at his brow, rubbing as he groans. “Durge…” “Yes, handsome?” They purr, turning to him with the biggest look of innocence that Astarion has ever seen. Hands clutched behind their back, head leaning sweetly, eyes fluttering.   “It’s not rather becoming to eavesdrop…” His eyes do that weird softening as he says that. Mystra, then Tav, then them? No wonder the man has the oddest relationship with romance. Astarion feeling his eyes draw to the back of his head nearly with how hard he rolls them. Maybe he goes any farther, he can see that tadpole that gotten him in this mess in the first place.  The idea then turns a tad too grotest for his liking so he stops with mute boredom. 

“Hey!” They start, “I told ya, Tav asked me to check on ya.” Gale fixes them with a look.

“Anyhow!” They send one right back, no hesitation. However, it isn’t hard to see the twinkle of fondness they share. Astarion feels his eyes about to roll a second time. “Wanna spill?” They wink.

Gale looks at Astarion. He boredly blinks back. He takes that as the equivalent of ‘go ahead’ as he huffs. “Anna’s been showing a rather kindly interest in Tav as of late, yet doesn’t seem to get the hint that Tav and Astarion are…a thing?” He looks at Astarion again, edging the last words carefully.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Ohhhh.” Durge walks in stride with them. Their eyes squinting ahead at Anna talking animatedly with Tav. Hands parading about in some clear story, Tav’s fluffed shoulders bouncing in presumed chuckles. If they look hard enough, focusing really good, they barely see the red that fits her cheeks. And they don’t seem to be from the sun at all, hells, it’s chilly more than anything this odd morning.

“So that’s a thing.” Such drama in this camp. Their giggling mind can’t get enough. “So what are ya gonna do about it?” The question is for Astarion pointedly, but their glance at Gale keeps the conversation opened. “I was just telling Astarion that he should speak with Tav about it, maybe drop it in casually or say he’s just noticed things here and there.” He too looks at Astarion pointedly. “I think it’s the best thing to do when you notice someone’s throwing heart eyes at one’s lover.”

“And I think that if it’s how you say, my relationship, I should handle it my way!” 

Gale’s jaw drops, about to defend his statement with ever breath he has, but the arm looping around his shoulder chokes those words up. His breath freezes in hit throat as Durge yanks him closer to them, easy smirk meeting his confused gaze. It promptly drops the moment heat meets his skin, burning his face red. 

Durge throws an eyebrow his way, grin growing, then focuses on the vampire glaring intensely at the back of Tav and Anna’s skulls. His eyes darting down the moment Tav seems to glance over their shoulder. “Alright then.” Durge shrugs, whistling their contempt. “Keep it and store it in until little miss princess figures out the same way you got Tav to bend over backwards for your wayward soul.”

Gale pales. ‘What are you doing??’ His whispers a harsh breath on Durge’s ear. The Baalspawn looks nothing close to uncomfortable, they only grin at Gale. ‘Don’t worry about it, handsome, just focus on our little magic date later, k?’

That clamps the wizard up. “Way-Wayward soul??” Astarion squeaks. His glare intensifies onto Durge. It’s then a bubble of laughter, nothing of joy, all full of sarcasm-Gale and Durge exchange a look- spills from his lips. 

He scoffs, “I’m just going to ignore that comment, please and thank you, and besides that, I highly doubt some daddy’s little brat stain will be able to get through, and while I adore them so, Tav’s platonically-stricken head.” His hand flies up and places delicately over his chest, claws out. “I hate to announce it to the class but it took me explaining the basic idea of sex for Tav to understand what I wanted from them at the Tiefling party!” 

Before Gale or Durge could go on any further, or Durge just encourage Astarion’s sass fess, the spawn turns heels and marches to the front. He sends the last comment in a hiss over his shoulder, “Like that butterfly flapping, pampered parasite would even try it anyway if I have anything to say about it!”

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He thought the privileged princess wouldn’t try anything. Afterall, she sounded like a blushing virgin at the mere thought Tav knew what plagued her as she attempted in asking Gale and Shadowheart, at least by what Gale told him.  But…he should've realized something.

If he can go thinking he easily seduce their unofficial leader with batting eyes and whispered promises with no issue, only to get turned on his metaphorical side and end up in the first committed, healthiest relationship he’s had in over 200 years by accident- then he should’ve realized all things don’t go as planned.

And by that he means that Anna definitely didn’t act a blushy nun, keeping her feelings locked up safe from the world, she decided to do the rather opposite.

Any chance she got, she was trying to either stay by Tav’s side or help them out around camp. Even going as far as to interrupt some conversations with their companions, mainly Shadowheart- suppose she saw how the two bonded over loss of childhood memory and supporting each other in most arguments amongst the group- enough so that it took Lae’zel directly ignoring her input as she was talking to Tav. Oh and doing it again one time because Tav was late for their planned training. 

Yeah, he remembers snickering on the side with a not so quiet Durge as the half-twit fumed red in the background, all the while their astral-dwelling companion grabbed Tav by the collar and dragged the poor, apologizing sheepishly tiefling double her size to their usual area.

At least he got a chance to ‘soothe’ Tav’s bruises that night, tent flap tied up tight.

She isn’t the fighting type at all, so surprising for Astarion-Gods!- so the only time Astarion got Tav to ‘himself’ was when picked to go out.

And even that got limited!

The crew recently found a mining crew in need of muscles to get their buddies out of an explosion gone wrong, amongst other things, so they’ve yet to move their camp for the last few days as Tav took Karlach, Gale, and Shadowheart out to help. They would’ve brought Halsin too, possibly to help with the healing bits they are sure to come across, if not for the warnings of the mining crew about sightings of a creature wandering around too.

So yeah. Tensions be high. And higher for the two who unknowingly/knowingly pine for the same sweet leader of their stitched together group.

Astarion’s been pointedly ignoring Anna during the day, immediately retiring to his tent the moment Tav’s safe and sound. And the others too he supposes.

Thankfully everyone has enough sense to not pry the vampire about it, merely giving him glances or odd looks whenever he excuses himself from anything Anna wants to talk to him about. Save for Lae’zel who honestly could care less about brewing drama afoot in the camp and fills the silence by sharpening or training just about all day. 

After yet another failed attempt by Anna in her new request to speak to Astarion privately, he once again guesses wrong in thinking she finally stopped, finally got the point he wants nothing to do with a prancing bird, parading around his lover day in and out.

Imagine the dear’s surprise that first thing he walks into in the morning is seeing Anna waiting outside his tent, fidgeting and picking at a small sack in her hands. His eyes dart to Tav, the teifling wrapping a conversation up with Halsin it seem, sack thrown over their shoulder with a casual grip.  Seems Anna won’t be putting on fluttering eyes and sweet smiles for Tav today. 

“Astarion!” She perks up immediately as the man slips from his tent. Face immediately fitting into place with a light smirk and narrowed eyes. 

“Lady Annastasia, and to what do I owe the pleasure to?” He stands straighter, arms folding lightly. 

She bites her inner cheek, “Oh nothing big, I merely need to ask a question of sorts.”

“Ah I see.” His head tilts, studying her. Going up and down. She sways in place, as if nerves are biting at each angle of her sides. “ Is it wrong to assume it’s about our Tav?”

As he expected, she blinks wide at him, freezing in place. Her eyes dart from him to the taller hero who just made their way to their three traveling buddies for the last day at the mines. Tav told him as he curled in their lap, getting his fill in as they carded their fingers through his locks last night. He didn’t mind their rambles as he ate, if anything, started to encourage it as of late.  Doesn’t have anything to do with their absence of voice filtering around his tent, oh no.

Anna’s voice can’t help but come out as a waver. “Is…Is it that obvious?”

Admittedly, Astarion lets the sympathy slide through, “As obvious as  a little puppy longing for it’s owner?” He makes that gentle hissing sound through his teeth, “I’m afraid so, darling.”

She visibly drops, a pout pulling. “Oh.”

“But not to worry, my dear, Tav isn’t the brightest tool in the shed when it comes to romance, so I think you’re safe.” For now. He wants to add. “As a rogue, these things are quite easy to catch amongst other things.”

She nods, agreeing with him as a small bout of hope pools her eyes once more. She blinks up at him, a gentle smile relaxing her features. “If so, I still want to ask my request of you! If you don’t mind, of course.”

Why the hells should I? 

“Of course, whatever the Lady desires!” He says instead. 

She begins speaking her request to him and he listens for a bit till he realizes she’s close to telling her life story as she rambles. So his ears do the most rational thing and begins drowning her out, getting only bits and pieces, enough to be able to nod or agree without seemingly ignoring her.

All the while, Tav stands at the edge of camp, close enough for them to catch his eye with little exaggeration. To others, they may look fresh and bushy tailed, ready for another adventure. To him, they look exhausted. Without even being near them a whole lot, he knows right away they’ve been restless the past few days. 

Call him silly, but they can’t help but remind him of a giant puppy in a way. Always eager to please him, always looking forward to talking with him or following him around, even while he’s doing the following most days. They miss him. 

Despite the non-angsty but hollow look in their eyes, he kept help the slight, odd satisfaction on knowing he’s the only one able to make that happy unintentionally. 

They smile, grim and tired wrinkles around their corners. 

He smiles back, Anna thinking he’s still listening throughout. 

Tav does a quick, funny look around, as if trying to make him laugh, which he has to stop himself with a clearing of his throat, before bringing up their hands in an overall cliche heart symbol. Someone could see it and they don’t care. 

He keeps himself from acting any stranger in front of Anna. For the few times too many, he’s glad he can’t physically blush in front of others. 

With that, Tav wanders over to their group and begin their last day to the mines.

“-I know you’re close with, so I was hoping to get your opinion of this gift I bought them?”

Astarion blinks out of his little dream world of pink clouds and sweet nothings, and comes back to the ever nervous Anna in front of him. 

“Oh right! Yes, I’m sure whatever it is, they’ll adore it.” 

Anna beams and takes no time to pull out a silver necklace. Red gems, rubies possibly line the chain in small drops. It’s beautiful. Clearly carefully crafted and made for the loveliest lads or ladies.

Astarion makes his stand back as subtle as possible.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” She raises it high, thankfully close to her. “I saw it in town with Durge the other day and couldn’t help but snatch it right up!”

“Terribly sweet.” He marks. Winces carefully hidden.

“Yeah! It could also help with their little ‘problem’.”

Astarion perks at that. Ears winding. 

‘Huh?’

Questions on his face must be evident cause Anna immediately jumps to an explanation.

“Oh, I’ve noticed these odd markings or rather…” She looks left and right, leaning in just a slight. As if whatever she says would bring panic to all around them. 

“...Bites!” 

He blinks, again. 

“I understand if Tav has some…arrangement with someone of the night, but I worry for them!” Her eyes fill with an emotion he’s seen way to many times. Pity and anger. 

“Vampires are..vile, dangerous things! The vampire that Tav lets them feed from must be seducing them, using them a mere cattle!”

Tav said something to him once about comments they get as a tiefling. How they obviously look like devils but the real insult is being compared to livestock. Namely bulls or..

“Cattle?”

Something sparks in him. The whispers he had when he first met Tav and their small group of Shadowheart and Gale begin again. 

Anna nods dutifully. Almost sadly. He hides the grit in his teeth as his claws scream at him to rip that nod clean off. 

“I feel this necklace could help them scare whoever it is off, yes?” Then her expression shifts, eyes turning downward in that shy act once more. No, coy.

“I just think it’s best for them, you know?”

THATS NOT YOUR FUCKING CHOICE TO-

“Of course! Such wretched creatures need to be purged from this world!” He may be playing it off a little too much. He adds in a wiping motion, swift and able to startle Anna. But she looks at him with big, woefully hopeful eyes and he knows he has her.

A feeling he welcomes greatly, especially in this moment as anger shakes his very soul, comes to play. It claps it’s hands, plays it’s tunes, drafting it’s first idea with gleaming eyes full of mirth.

He keeps it hidden with a gentle smile, dare he say gentlemanly. So charming he’s sure Anna would’ve been swooning if not for Tav.

“I suggest giving it to them tonight, my dear.” He wraps a friendly hand over hers, ignoring the light sting he feels from one of the dangling bits passing through her fingers and onto his. “Afterall, with how much Tav has been working tirelessly with this whole mining business, who’s to say that fiend won’t be lurking about when embers cool? They’ll be too tired from the mind to be able to have their guard up, this might just be their savior.”

Anna makes Astarion realize something new as she giggles, feeling suddenly heroic for her idea as she agrees fully to his idea. 

She’s the biggest fucking idiot he’s ever met. And he’s met plenty.

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

Lurking he does. 

The moment Tav says their farewells to their companions, treading to their tent in wavering steps and light winces. Body full of a long recent days that guarantees how their next morning will go.  Resting and allowing their body to recuperate, hopefully with a certain cold lover at their side. Oh how they’ve missed such a face, such a presence bursting with sassy jokes and dreadful touches. 

Its no surprise how fast their tail starts swinging left and right the moment they hear the flaps of their tent open, pulling their tank down with no real speed. 

They turn and see him in all his awaiting glory. His crimson eyes lure from up to down, taking in their freshly washed appearance. 

“Long day?”

“The longest.” Their body sags. 

Astarion tuts, pulling the most pitiful, sympathetic pout only a mother could give. “Oh you poor thing. A guess saving a loud, smelly bunch of miners is a big killer on the whole heroic motive, yes?”

“Wish I could agree with you, lovely.” Their lip quirks, “Still into the heroic image, unfortunately.” “Pity. Thought I could finally pull you into the dark side of things.” He moves closer, grabbing the towel from their neck and begins dabbing the remaining drops on their collar. “You know, evil laugh, lunatic planning, leather galore and dark lairs, all the sorts.”

“You know…” It’s now they can pick up his, and he hates when they say it, perfume he keeps refilled. The smallest luxury behind the many books he tends to the most. It’s not strong, subtle enough for the allspire bit to mix in surprisingly well with the woodland essence they must be all drowned in by now. “I might be persuaded a bit?”

His eyes slide to theirs. Cheeks making them squint with his smirk. “Oh?” His head tilts. “And with what exactly?”

“Blame the miners actually, but perhaps this ‘hero’” Their hands prick quotation marks, he snickers, “wants a little time with their favorite little villain.”

“Little?!” He grabs the towel in a firmer hold, swatting them on the arm. All gentle, no worries.

“Astarion, I’m nearly as tall as Halsin and taller than Karlach.” Their words deadpan, tone full of underlining giggles.

His fangs show and he wastes no time in pulling them to the bed on the side. “ It doesn’t matter, my dear! I will not be resorted to such words like ‘little’!” 

“Then why are you getting on my lap?” They ask as he indeed does so, huffy as he goes.

“Shut it, now.”

“Whatever his majesty desires.” His hand covers their mouth, eyes glaring. Their palms face up in a surrender. 

“I will do what I desire..” His arms curl around their neck, nose nuzzling into theirs. Tav began doing that at one point when he was still getting used to the intimate but nonsexual shows of affection. A quick nuzzle when one of them felt off and they immediately perk up as if the action itself forced new energy into them.

He feels arms close around his waist, low enough to not touch his back scars directly but also not too low to suggest anything past cuddling. He huffs at their tenderness, patting their arm to tell them what he wants.

They curl tighter in response. They appear to have needed that cause in mere moments, they go from tight body and straightened back to relaxed and curling into his front.

A long breath escaping. 

Astarion purses his lips, ducking into their neck. 

“Are you alright?” His whisper soft.

Their shoulders lift and fall back as if that took alot of effort in itself. “Tired.” They’re knowledgeable about the horns as they nudge further into his collar, “And missed you. ‘M sorry for not bringing ya. It was really dark and cramped and I just didn’t-”

“Hey-” He’s quick, finger flicking under the chin and pulling up. “What did we say about unnecessary apologies? I believe they were your own words, love?”

“They are unnecessary, therefore we don’t need to say them.”

“Exactly!” His finger boops their nose. The silly act making them smile onces again. It’s tired but happy so he’s happy. “Wow, you are so wise! Perhaps Gale needs to watch his tracks.”

“Pft- Nah. I like swords more.” Their head shakes as laughter spills.

“More things for us to bond over, I suppose.”

“You like daggers more.”

“A blade is still a blade. Doesn’t matter how long.”

Their eyebrow pricks. “Why do I sense an innuendo?”

“Perhaps you’ve just been in that mindless gutter far too long.”

“Eh.” Their forehead knocks back into his chest. A slither around his thigh and a touch from his fingertips confirms the scaly tail. “Maybe.” It begins wagging as he curls a palm around it, thumb rubbing circles in the side, before letting it do it’s clinging thing.

It’s late. And he’s sure Anna will show soon. And as according to his plan, Tav stays locked in his arms in such a way that would be impossible for even the most idiotic of idiots to mistake it for platonic.  Especially when they’ve just begun trailing kisses up his neck. Soft and delicate. Going from his collar, to his adams apple, to the edge just under his sensitive ear. 

His arms tighten, claws digging into the tank top underneath them.  “Tav-”

They pause, pulling away a bit and a side of him whines at the loss in milliseconds. Before, he would have pulled a pity party at himself for having such an inward reaction, being made into mush just over a few kisses.  But the other side of him now? HA, he’s more concerned over that look in their eye. Thinking they’ve done something wrong. Their grip loosens too and he knows he needs to stop that.

His arm unhooks from their neck and grabs their forearm.  “Don’t. I just wanted to ask you something?”

They blink and tilt their head. All ears as he would say. 

A thought plagues his mind. He knows it’s really silly but…Something about what Anna says kept replaying in his mind all day. No idea why, he already knows the answer to what he wants to ask but..

“What is it, Astarion?” They frown lightly up at him.

His legs under his thighs, pressed against theirs, shift as he works through his question. With them waiting all patiently of course.

“I understand if Tav has some…arrangement with someone of the night, but I worry for them!���

“Im used to comments of how damn devilish I look, literally. Not figureativ- stop with that look, Astarion. And I guess it’s not the worse but..cows or cattle gotta be a real ego destroyer.”

“Vampires are..vile, dangerous things! The vampire that Tav lets them feed from must be seducing them, using them a mere cattle!”

“Do you feel weird when I feed from you?” He blurts.

Their stare is loud. Looking all over his face as if he’s mere seconds from breaking into laughter, playing up into a joke.

When that doesn’t happen, they stay silent a moment longer. 

“..No?” They glance around, thinking, “Should I?”

“I just-” He inhales, a burst of dustration bubbling up, He’s not a feelings person but he wants to try. Tav’s always telling him to talk if he’s worried about something. Might as well get used to it now. “I know our circumstances were an agreement of sorts but..I suppose.” His eyes dart down. A wave of vulnerability washing over him.

“I suppose I’ve been overthinking and…and can’t quite seem to get it out of my head.”

“Are you asking about side effects or ‘feelings’ feelings?” They try to match his gaze.

“..The latter.”

Tav hums, tugging him closer. 

They’re a planner. Always have been, might always will be despite this fucked up situation they might be in. Unconsciously, maybe that’s why if anyone in this group were to be asked who the leader is, even durge who likes doing their own thing, everyone would point to Tav.

Thus, he gets an immediate idea as why they ask if he trusts them enough to pull them to the bed. With him under them. He shrugs but after a look, says his consent with a roll of his eyes.

Pulling him down, they make sure he’s absolutely comfortable amongst the silk pillows and fur blankets before wrapping themself over him. Legs straddle their hips, arms playing boredly at their neck, and he can once again feel their tail tapping on his thigh, all before wrapping around it in a soft cage.

They smile at his questioning gaze, assuring him they won’t try anything funny without his explicit consent, all before leaning into his neck for a kiss. 

He stops the yelp in his throat. They’re right on the mark, teasing the sensitive skin from earlier. Their chest vibrates with their chuckle, end of the tail wagging. 

 “It’s ok, lovely. I won’t do anything more than this.” Lips murmur as they trail up his neck again, going to the other side. 

His legs jerk, wrapping around their waist just they hit his ears again.  His teeth grit, “You’re doing- doing this on..p-purpose!” he accuses. Another kiss lands at his lobe, canines only a tiefling could have probing it’s edge, “T-trying to distract me from my question??”

Was it that silly they would ignore it outright?

Before any odd feeling could come in place of his non-beating chest, their arms circle his waist, pulling their bodies closer. Making a tangled mess of the shorter elf and tall tiefling. 

“On purpose? Mm, Maybe.” They nip the skin just above his scar, not directly on it. A part, deep and nervous, but somehow longing more, whines for a little lower. “But I wanna prove a point.”

“What point?” A hiss escapes and his claws dig crescent moons into their shirt again. They pause in making a mess out of the man beneath them, pulling away and meeting his hooded gaze with a soft look. So soft and uncensored for it’s immediate openness he nearly stops from trying to catch his breath.

“That I want this too.”

Then they drag their head back down again and he’s back to drowning.

“I want you satisfied. I want you happy.” They lick a small line up and his unlatches from the fabric to catch his moan. “Want you laughing, teasing, sharing feelings, and when you need to” Their words stop as they get a little into it, tightening their hold and suckling a small bit into one spot. He just about bites his tongue when a squeak wants to make itself known, nearly tearing a new hole into the shirt as he stops himself from jerking up and more into their hold. Not that he could move much if he wanted to. They keep a safe hold on him. As if they knew how he’d react. 

He curses and bites back a groan from that.

They let go and lick their lip. “I want you to feed.”

“Cheeky devil!”

“I thought you adored that?” They chuckle in his face, nuzzling into his neck immediately afterwards. 

His hand swats their back.

They keep on chuckling, and they keep on their attack on his neck. 

He lets them, despite all the clawing into their shoulders, leaving marks that make it look as if they lost a fight to a feral cat, occasional tightening and shaking of his legs on their hips, groaning and small whimpering melting into their neck. He holds them tight against him, letting them show how much they want him, Astarion, their little, sassy, vampire elf. Bites and all.

His eyes open from their clenched state the moment his ears pick up something. They twitch but Tav’s too busy on one particular spot on his neck vein to notice. 

Crimson eyes land on the figure at the tend opening. The same one who clutches the horrid necklace in one hand and clenches the tent cover in a tight fist with the other. Dark eyes staring on the curled up form looming over Astarion, tail wagging furiously as if they’re getting the bestest damn treat in existence.

Anna. The doe eyed little princess they picked up on their journey. The same one who doesn’t look at them with the same little doe eyed expression she’s been throwing left and right since they’ve saved her. They scorn with a glaring envy Astarion has been all too familiar with since she arrived and made moves on his lover. 

Speaking of which….

He looks her straight dead in the eye as Tav makes a new mark into his pale skin, curling his fingers deep into their tank as he lets his jaw drop and hang to a loud groan that filters the tent. The corner of his lip curled at her immediate response.

She stiffins. Eyes pooling. Pooling with all he's felt every single time she rested a delicate hand on Tav's arms. The same ones that wrap around him and have become the first nearly-safest place since his escape.

The same feeling he got every single time she looked up into Tav's unknowing gaze with huge hearts for pupils. The same person that looks over every moment he opens up, makes a joke, or even gets just the tiniest bit about a book they got for him simply because they heard his low comment about it. 

Only he isn't the one mourning some fairytale. Not anymore. His relationship with Tav might not be one he could only imagine every cold and sickly night in Cazador's reign, but gives the same exact feeling he's always looked for underneath and that's plenty enough for him. 

A sharp prick at his neck and he's letting out a louder moan than the previous, hand curling around their bicep as they adjust to get even further into him. A hand snakes up to his head and when the thumb brushes his ear, he gets closer to loosing it again. 

Perhaps he should've warned her. Tell her who was really making Tav happy every night and day. Save her from inevitable heartbreak of her wanton fairytale image being shattered. And he was planning to the moment she showed up to his tent this morning. Yet…

“Vampires are..vile, dangerous things! The vampire that Tav lets them feed from must be seducing them, using them a mere cattle!”

His eyes dart to Tav’s neck, recently healed sometime today. 

He believes a mark of their own should be the best for them.

He wastes no longer in letting his fangs show, shining fleetingly in the tent's handing lamp, and pledging them into Tav’s neck. Eye slamming close the second iron hits his taste buds.

He hears a gasp but it gets drowned out by Tav’s grunt turned moan. Hugging him tighter. He drinks like every night, but maybe a tad less than usual. They really did have a long day after all. 

Blood drips down his lip, onto his chin as he pulls back and looks at the entrance. 

Gone. The girl ran off. 

Good. More time to reconnect with his dear again, and in the best ways possible too.

A laugh escapes him as they tickle his side for the surprise, turning to end in another moan as they get to his under chin now.

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

Bonus:

“That’s odd, Anna doesn’t seem like she wants to speak to me anymore.” Tav mentions as they wonder back into their tent the next morning, finished with their morning check in it seems, “In fact, she’s asking how long until we get to her home town.” 

Astarion hums ‘thoughtfully’, reclined and the almost relax on their bed. The only thing he wears is one of their shirts, loosely buttoned together and opened up enough to let the world see exactly how far their little ‘time’ went last night, plus some shorts he’s left from time to time in there. They actually didn’t get farther than leaving a trail down his chest and him, many marking bites around their shoulders and collar (those he can see clearly with the spare button up half heartedly put together) but it leaves enough for anyone to assume and like hells he’s gonna correct anyone if they did. “I did find this though.”

He glances up from his book, page carefully marked so as to not lose it. It’s getting rather good. It may be some silly romance genre Tav found for him, but it’s Tav. Why wouldn’t he indulge a little outside his usual?

“Oh, a necklace.”

“Yeah, silver and honestly extremely eye-catching. Not something I’d wear however.”

Oh yeah, he forgot. Tav likes the less complicated jewelry. Think of single chain or lonely gems in the center type. Says it makes it easier to wear under the pelted heat and armor.  Ironic he supposes.

“I mean silver? Really? When I have a vampire for a lover?” Their head shakes and they stuff it in the ‘to sell’ bag. 

His ear perks up, “What does my state of being relate to your choice of jewelry?”

Their stare into him offended him slightly. As if they are questioning his very wits. 

“Lovely, unless my reading is fucked, vampires are basically allergic to silver.” They state, a small deadpanning in their tone.

…Wait, they read about vampires….for him?

Something stirs in his chest, the same feeling from last night as he blanks at them. 

“....Get your ass over here right now darling and kiss me.”

Their tail shoots up, expression thrown back, but soon a grin grows, canines begin flashing and demonic eyes sparking. “Oh like you have to ask me twice!” They laugh.

—----------------------- “Should I tell you who tried to give you the necklace by the way?”

“Huh? Oh, sure, lovely.”

“You know our dear Anna, yes?”

“Yeah…I just told you how she keeps ignoring-...”

“....”

“Did she know about the silver?”

“Yes, very much so in fact.”

“Was she at the tent last night?”

“Possibly-maybe.”

"........."

"............"

“....She leaves tomorrow.”

“ :)”

[a-case-of-attachment]

A continuation of this.

“That’s my name darling,” he said flatly, his usual false charm failing him. Astarion tried to smile but even he can feel it was strained, the action barely even making his lips curl. You brushed your thumb ever so gently across his cheek, like you were wiping away tears that had yet to fall. Astarion took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. Even though he doesn’t want to his mind was already supplying him with a dozen rude and somewhat dismissive things to say, things that will make it seem like he never cared for you at all when the reality is that you were probably the first person in centuries that he had truly cared for.   

Your sudden movement startled him, Astarion stumbling backwards as you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck. He stood there stunned, arms spread out on either side and his eyes wide in disbelief. The two of you had hugged several times before and Astarion had enjoyed the closeness greatly but every other time you had asked him if it was ok first, adorably hesitant as you waited for him to either welcome you with open arms or turn you away. You hadn’t asked this time, had just flung yourself at him with complete and utter abandonment and were clinging onto him like some kind of limpet. He didn’t hate it, never had despite the show he made of letting you do it, like it was some huge inconvenience that you were forcing upon him. You had never seemed this desperate before though and Astarion didn’t know how he was supposed to act or what your sudden need to be close meant. 

Just like the first time you had wrapped your arms around him in the unexpected gesture of comfort Astarion found himself once again hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, his touch as light as possibly could be as he placed one hand on the small of your back and the other between your shoulder blades. Despite his confusion Astarion found himself sinking into your hold with a sigh, his eyes falling shut as he let the side of his head rest against yours. It was strange, how comfortable he felt within your arms, even now when he knew it would most likely be the last time he would get to have this. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his neck, breath warm and sending a shiver down his spine. Astarion tightened his hold on you, pulling you as close into his embrace as he could. He doesn’t want this to end because despite his best intentions he had gotten rather attached to you and yet he knows it must, for his own sake at the very least. “Come now darling, there is nothing for you to apologies for,” Astarion reassures you, his voice surprisingly soft and steady. That had been the easy part though and he needs to force the next part out, the words feeling like led in his mouth and tasting just as bitter. “If you wish to take Gale as a lover then who am I to deny you that.” He sounds just as heartbroken as he feels, his fingers curling into the fabric of your blouse like he can somehow keep you there with him despite the fact he had just told you he wouldn’t stop you from pursuing the wizard.   

“WHAT!” you exclaim loudly, jerking back out of his hold and looking at him like he had gone completely insane. Astarion stumbled back at the sudden movement, his arms thrown wide to avoid hurting you as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you. “What?” he asked in confusion, “What do you mean what?” He didn’t understand what in the hells was happening and your clear shock and what possibly could be horror was not helping things. His head hurt, brows furrowing as he tried to figure out what in the nine hells you wanted from him. He had told you it was fine for you to take the wizard into you bed despite how sick it had made him feel to utter such words, had practically absolved you of any guilt you might feel about the whole mess and yet here you were acting like he was the one sprouting utter nonsense. He was quickly running out of graciousness and if you didn’t scurry on back to camp and Gale soon Astarion didn’t think he would be able to keep himself from saying something truly awful that would put an end to whatever semblance of friendship he might have been able to salvage from this mess. 

“You,” you accused, point your finger at him, “you said I could take Gale as a lover.” Astarion blinked stupidly at you, unsure of why you seemed so offended. “Well yes darling, that tends to be what happens when two people want to sleep together.” He spoke to you like you were an idiot, voice condescending as he relaxed into a more casually guarded stance. Your eyes widened at his words, your mouth opening and closing silently like a fish floundering on the fishmonger's slab. Astarion smirked slightly at the comparison, letting out a small huff of amusement as he imagined you flopping around like a fish desperate to get back to the water. His small moment of amusement was short lived though as it seemed to be the thing to kick start your brain again because the next thing he knew you were shouting at him like he wasn’t less than a foot away from you, your cheeks red with anger and fists curled tightly at your sides. “I do not want to sleep with Gale.” 

He should be worried, should try to de-escalate the situation because he had never seen you quite so angry before but Astarion wasn’t known for being level headed, nor for doing the proper thing. Plus, he found your anger somewhat thrilling, his cold dead heart fluttering slightly now your attention was firmly fixed on him. “Of course you do,” Astarion scoffed, rolling his eyes at your adamant refusal to admit it. Hoping his behaviour would fan the flames of your anger. “No need to deny it darling.” Your scowl deepened, clench fists tightening and eyes practically glowing with your anger as you forced out your next words through clenched teeth. “Out of the two of us I think I would be the one to know who I want to bed.”  

Your insistent denial of what he had seen with his own eyes had any enjoyment he was getting out of this back and forth drying up, his own anger bubbling up in a hot and agitated mix that left him practically snarling at you like some sort of animal. Why were you making this so unnecessarily difficult? Astarion wanted this to be over and done with already so he could go drown his sorrows in the neck of some wild beast that took more than quick reflexes to take down. Just, why couldn’t you do what he wanted you to for once and let him suffer in peace? “If you don’t want to be his lover then why have you been spending so much time with him then?” It was his turn to accuse you now, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice as he practically spat the word lover at you like it was bitter poison on his tongue.  

As soon as the words are out of his mouth Astarion wants to take them back. Not because he doesn’t mean them but because he had never wanted it to be so blindingly obvious that your little flirtations with Gale had affected him so deeply. It was an admission of weakness, a weakness that Astarion had never wanted to fall prey to. Had never wanted anyone to know existed, especially you. He should have known, this was you after all and despite every wall he had built and casually callous comment he had thrown out you had wormed your way into his heart, burrowing under his ribs and leaving him weak to every last morsel of your affection he could get. You had completely ruined him and he had let you because he had wanted you to see him for who he was and not some pathetic hollow shell of a man, good for nothing but a quick fuck and a beating. He truly was a pathetic excuse of a man.  

You’re anger seemed to melt under his hash glair, instead looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Like he’s the one acting crazy and irrational when clearly, you’re the one who is suffering from some sort of brain damage brought on by the bloody worm living free of charge in your head. “Because he’s my friend Astarion,” you insisted, sounding exasperated yet honest and still Astarion didn’t believe you. He couldn’t believe you because it all just sounded like excuses now. Little lies to sooth his pain when the truth would have hurt far less. “Oh please,” Astarion scoffed, “no one would willingly subject themselves to his dull and fanciful drivel if they weren’t hoping to end up under him.” He certainly wouldn’t. Had in fact had to stop himself on several occasions from stuffing a sock in the other man's mouth just to get him to be quiet for more than five seconds. He highly doubted that you, with some form of intellect, would subject yourself to such drivel if you weren’t expecting to get something more satisfying out of it.  

Your eyes narrowed, jaw visibly clenching as you folded your arms defensively across your chest. “I like his stores, they’re stupid and help distract from this shit show we’ve ended up in.” You tilted your chin up slightly, eyes glinting with conviction and challenge, like you were daring him to prove otherwise. Normally Astarion would find your confidence and unwavering conviction rather charming. He would take grate delight in watching whoever you were focused on at the moment squirm and fold under your hard gaze but normally he wasn’t the one caught in it. Normally he wasn’t falling apart at the seams and rapidly losing grasp of what was going on. “Really darling?” Astarion scoffed, “Lying isn’t very becoming.” 

That does the trick, Astarion practically able to taste your anger as it comes rushing back into focus. “I’m not lying you dense idiot!” Astarion gasped in indignation, a scathing comeback already on the top of his tongue but you cut him off, your voice raised and full of anger that Astarion was quickly becoming familiar with. “Why in the hells would I want another lover when I’m already in love with you?” 

Everything goes silence, Astarion’s eyes wide as your words settle heavily in the space between you. He can see the realisation dawn on you as you realise what you have just admitted to. Can see the panic fill your eyes and your fight or flight instincts beginning to kick in. You hadn’t meant to say it and yet you had, those deceptively simple little words taking shape and shifting reality to accommodate them. You loved him.  

Naturally Astarion panics. It’s to much, to soon. To frustratingly perfect because this was exactly what he had planned to happen from the moment he had decided to join your little ragtag group of misfits and weirdos. He had wanted you to fall for him. Had wanted you to love him enough that you would protect him, fight for him, kill for him even but now that it’s happened, that he’s gotten what he wanted he wants you to take it back. You couldn’t possibly love him, not truly. How could anyone ever love him when he was nothing more than a broken and battered puppet with its strings cut, blood stained and hollow. And yet there is a spark of something behind his ribs, embers of something long forgotten glowing bright once more.  

“What?” He manages to croak out, his eyes wide and filled with shock. It’s a hollow victory, one that leaves him feeling sick. “Nothing.” You’re quick to dismiss it, attempting to brush it away and hide it like it’s something to be ashamed of and Astarion wishes it was that simple, but he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the way your eyes had burned with anger and annoyance, your voice loud enough to reach the gods as you had shouted your confession at him. “No, you said…you’d said that you…” He can’t quite get the words out, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth and his mind to scrambled to make sense of what was going on. “No, I didn’t.” Astarion narrowed his eyes at you. Fine, if you wanted to be as stubborn as a mule about it then two could play at that game. “Yes, you did,” he said in the same matter-of-fact tone as you had, taking a probably unacceptable amount of joy in watching your eye twitch slightly. 

His sense of victory is short lived as you seem to deflate, your shoulders slumping as you look away from him. “Why does it even matter if I did?” you asked though Astarion thinks it’s supposed to be rhetorical, your voice small and broken sounding as you finally turned away from him. “You clearly don’t care, or you wouldn’t be trying to palm me off on to Gale.” That’s not true, not in the slightest. Astarion doesn’t want you anywhere near Gale. Would be incredibly happy if you forgot the blasted man even existed, even happier in-fact if you let him push the dull man off the next cliff you passed. But you had been interested in the wizard, practically making heart eyes at him every time he came sniffing around. Or at least that was what Astarion had thought you wanted. He had thought that you were seeking physical comfort elsewhere when he couldn’t provide it, searching for a connection that went beyond intelligent conversation and quick whit. So, he had done the right thing, planning on letting you go with minimal fuss in an attempt to lessen your guilt and ease his own pain but nothing with you ever went the way he wanted it to.  

He’s the one left floundering this time, suddenly unsure of what he thought he knew. The guilt he feels doesn’t help matters, sitting heavily in his stomach and making him feel sick. “I am not…” Astarion starts to protest but you either don’t hear him or don’t care, cutting him off before he can finish. “I just, you could have just said if you weren’t interested anymore.” You turn back to look at him, eyes a stormy mix of anger, pain and regret that cut through Astarion’s cold dead heart like a blade of ice. How could you possibly think that he had no interest in you? Astarion adored you, much to his own annoyance and though he wasn’t ready to let down all his carefully crafted walls just yet he had thought you had at least understood that. “What? No, I’m…” You cut him off again, your words ringing with a finality that had him truly panicking. “It’s fine Astarion, I get it. You don’t have to worry about this,” you gesture between the two of you, hand limp and lacklustre, “being an issue anymore.” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, turning away from him as you started to make your way back towards the camp, leaving him stood there as still as a statue and feeling just as heartless. 

Astarion’s panic grew with every inch of space that was added between the two of you, his hands twitching at his sides in aborted attempts to reach out for you. He couldn’t lose you, not now, not like this and with every step you took away from him Astarion felt his chance to fix what he had broken slipping away from him. It’s a new kind of desperate hopelessness that has his mind scrambling for something that would make you stay with him. Pair that with his self-loathing because this really was a situation of his own doing and it was a miracle that he hadn’t just turned tail and run, shouting out a rather dismissive and hurtful comment as he went. He had to be honest with you, but he had never been very good at honesty, not with himself or others and the thought of having to be now left him feeling sick because all honesty had ever gotten him was pain and sadness. 

“I was jealous!” The words rush out of his mouth in a mix of panic and desperation, his voice twice as loud as it had been and seeming to echo around the small space. It’s your turn to look at him owlishly now, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly in your shock as you slowly turn to look back at him. It makes him want to flinch away from you. To hide his weakness, this shameful dent in his otherwise pristine and sturdy armour. It hadn’t always been there but then he had met you and the weakness had grown. Like a hammer striking against metal until something gave way, a crack opening up across his chest that you had been able to slip your fingers into and force open further with every smile, every playful tease, every affirmation that he was enough just as he was. It was to much, yet still not enough and the words had come rushing forward to bridge the gap that had grown between you, Astarion unable to stop himself from admitting the painfully obvious truth of his behaviour. 

Silence hangs between the two of you, not even the wind daring to disturb the rather ponente silence. The longer you said nothing the more Astarion wanted to take it back, to brush off this whole ridiculous situation and disappear off into the woods but he knew he couldn’t, not if he is to have any chance of salvaging some sort of relationship with you. “What?” You finally break the silence though Astarion had been hoping for something a little more eloquent and longer and for you not to sound so confused by the notion of him disliking the attention you gave the others, especially Gale of all people. “I was jealous,” he repeated, thankfully able to keep his voice quieter and calmer the second time round. “Why?” The suspicion in your voice was hurtful but considering not five minutes ago he had been pushing you towards Gale’s limp embrace he couldn’t really blame you for not believing him.  

“Because I, well. You and I are…and I,” Astarion stumbles over his worlds, any eloquent declaration of his feelings vanishing with a frustrated sigh. No matter how badly he wished to return the sentiment he just couldn’t. He’s not ready for that yet, hasn’t come far enough yet to fully trust another with that show of venerability. He wants to though, one day that is. He wants to see the smile that would spread across your face in unbridled joy and devotion as he said those three little words to you. Words he had already jokingly said but now they needed to truly mean something he couldn’t force his lips to form. “You know why,” he said solemnly, giving you a look that he hoped would convey everything he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. 

Astarion gets to watch a whole myriad of emotions dance across your features in a rather short amount of time. There is confusion, doubt, anger and realisation but at the end comes understanding, your features softening considerably. “Astarion.” The way his name sounds on your lips, like your heartbroken and full of sorrow has him looking away, unable to stomach the pity he knew would be shinning so brightly in your eyes. He wants to move on quickly, a witty and slightly self-deprecating remark already on the tip of his tongue but you surprise him once again, appearing in front of him like magic. A dream that his fragile and broken mind had conjured to ease his suffering. 

You are ever so gentle as you reach up towards him, fingers caressing his cheek for just a moment before they are gone. You softly cup his jaw, fingertips slipping into his hair and thumb just brushing across his cheek. Astarion goes deathly still, like a statue as he watches you with wide and confused eyes. You are touching him again, a lover's caress if he was sentimental enough to call it something more. Surely that was a good thing? If he had truly ruined things between the two of you than touching him would be the last thing on your mind. Unless you were intending to slap him that is, but you're not. At least he doesn’t think so anyway, and he wouldn’t be inclined to stop you if you were, after all he deserved it for his little tantrum. You don’t slap him though and those few seconds of skin on skin contact are enough to let doubt, and uncertainty come creeping back in, a voice at the back of his head that sounded far too much like Cazador whispering that he wasn’t deserving of love and he was foolish to think anyone like you would give it to him willingly and without a price. 

Astarion wants to look away; to hide his shame but he is stuck within your gaze, trapped as you look back up at him with a serious determination that leaves him silent and somewhat obedient in the moment. “There is nothing going on between me and Gale, nor between me or anyone else.” Your voice doesn’t waver, so sure and confident in your admission. He wants to find fault with your words, a lie that will unravel your words and prove once and for all that no one is as kind and as accepting as you claim to be. He doesn’t find it though, not even a whisper of deceit and somehow that’s worse because that little spark of hope that had all but been snuffed out flickers back to life, bright and painfully insistent as the reality of his situation finally begins to sink in. “Right,” he said uncertainty, not sure what to say now that his anger and false bravado had run out of steam.  

Like most situations that left him feeling uncomfortable and unsure Astarion found himself brushing it all off with a melodic laugh and dismissive wave of his hand. “Of course there isn’t darling. I mean, why would you go after someone else when you already have perfection in front of you.” He offered you one of his most charming smiles, hoping that it would be enough to mask the slight hint of uncertainty in his voice. He doesn’t think he is quite as successful as he hoped to be, your brows furrowing and lips pursing with concern with a slight hint of frustration that Astarion is surprised he doesn’t see more often when he gazes upon you.  

Panic spikes once more at the back of his mind as you step back with a sigh, your hands gently pulling away and leaving him feeling bereft. His hands dart out to yours, cold fingers gentle as he takes one of your hands in his and lifts it up slightly between the two of you. Astarion is unsure how to continue from here, his eyes trained on his thumb as it rubbed gently across the back of your hand and desperately trying to work up the courage to say what needs to be said. This is a serious matter, as are most things that concern the heart and he needs to tread carefully if he desires to undo some of the damage and hurt he had caused this evening.  

By the gods he was a fool. He had been so close to losing you, the one thing that had actually gone right in his life and all because he was an insecure, jealous fool of a man who struggled to see the good in people after a lifetime of pain and deceit. And you were good, annoyingly so sometimes but that was part of your charm, a kind soul that was open and honest to a fault. If the two of you had met any other way Astarion would have found you an easy mark, easily playable to his whims and even easier to deliver to Cazador’s feet, a sweet thing sacrificed in exchange for a reprieve from the pain and suffering he endured night after night. The thought makes him feel sick, the realisation of how easily he could have missed out on this turning his stomach and making his heart ache. And yet it was nothing compared to the disgust and disappointment he felt towards himself for having almost destroyed this rather wonderful thing growing between the two of you. Astarion had hoped that with distance and clarity, peace of mind would follow but it seemed that no matter how far he ran Cazador still managed to keep a firm grasp on his mind and heart. No more. Astarion was free of that vile beast and his palace of misery and by the Gods he deserved something good for once in his wretched life. 

“I am sorry,” Astarion started, his voice soft and remarkably calm considering the turbulent mix of emotions he was feeling, “It was not my intention to hurt you.” He ignores the slight arch of one of your brows, instead pulling in a deep breath as he prepared himself to be as honest and open with you as he could. “I had forgotten, what it is like to have someone genuinely care for you and I, well I,” he stumbles over his words slightly, his throat feeling uncomfortably tight all of a sudden. “Astar…” you start to say, voice calm and understanding but Astarion cuts you off with a sharp shake of his head as he raised a hand to silence you. He needs to say this to you now or he just might lose his nerve and never speak of it again.  

Thankfully you fall silent, a light squeeze of his hand the only indication that you understood what he needed from you in the moment. “I had been waiting for the moment you got bored of me, to be cast aside and forgotten in favour of someone who could truly be with you.” It’s surprisingly easy to be honest and open with you. Though the truth leaves him feeling vulnerable and exposed in a way he dislikes greatly, it also eases a weight that he hadn’t realised was sitting heavy on his chest.  

  

Astarion watches a multitude of emotions dance across your face, some of them so quick to pass that he doesn’t have the time to really register what it is you are feeling. As the silence stretches on though he begins to panic, fearing that his honesty had been too much for you. He wants to take it back, to laugh it off as just some silly nonsense brought on by a rather idiotic burst of jealousy. He could distract you with kisses and gentle touches meant to get your heart rate spiking and that far too intelligent mind of yours foggy with lust and longing. He’s still holding one of your hands in his and he lets his face fall down to watch as his thumb brushes over the back of your hand, the gesture meant to be soothing and offer some form of comfort but for who he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he should let go, take a step back and a deep breath so he could regain his bearings and take back some form of control over the situation before it could get any worse than it already was. If that was even at all possible.  

Your hand is warm on his cheek, touch ever so gentle as you caress the soft skin under his eye. Astarion hadn’t been paying attention though and the sudden touch takes him by surprise, his head jerking up to look at you with wide eyes. You don’t move your hand with him, his sudden movement dragging your thumb across his lisp and snagging on his bottom lip, tugging gently at the soft flesh. His breath catches, unprepared for the love he sees glowing in your eyes, sharp and intense and completely focused on him. Your thumb gently brushes across his lips, just once before you gently slide your hand back to curl around the back of his neck.  

Astarion goes willingly as you press down slightly, guiding his head down to yours as you tilt it back slightly and then his lips are brushing against yours, the ghost of a kiss that you had shared many times before. He lets out a shaky breath, his hold on your hand tightening. It seems to be the only permission you need because with your next breath you press your lips firmly against him, leading Astarion to a gentle and soul splitting kiss that has him whimpering, blindly grabbing for your neck with his free hand to keep himself grounded. He can feel your pulse under his thumb, steady and calm as you flay him open. It’s just a kiss, so similar to ones you have shared before and yet it leaves him feeling raw, only hanging on to his sanity by a thin thread of silk that is threatening to snap at any moment.  

The kiss ends just as gently as it began, Astarion leaning forward slightly in an attempt to prolong it for just a moment more. With a sigh you press your forehead against his, your fingers toying with the soft hairs at the base of his neck. Astarion is once again lost for words, unable to do anything but stand there and stare at you in silent wonder. You do not seem to have the same problem, your warm breath making his lips tingle as your words slipped from your lips like silk. “I love you.” Those three little words, overused and cheapened through the centuries but somehow you still manage to make them sound so deep and meaningful, weaving them through the cracks in his soul as you breath new life into him. He can’t say them back, not now but one day he will and he vows there and then to repeat them time and time again until he has pressed them into every inch of your skin, until there is nothing left inside of you but the love and devotion he feels for you. One day he will leave you with no doubt in your mind of his devotion to you but for today he tightens his own grip on your neck, gently urging you towards him as he brushes his lips against yours. “I love you,” you whisper again and he can’t stop himself them, sealing his mouth against yours as he tries to drink the words from your lips.  

The kiss is slow and gentle, Astarion delighting in having you close and knowing that he is the only one you want. Smug comes to mind and he is very much looking forward to rubbing this in Gales face. The poor bastard will be heart broken of course, but it will be his own fault for foolishly trying to pursue another’s lover. It’s truly going to be a delight to see all that anguish on the other mans face the first time he hears you declare your love for Astarion. He can already taste the sweet tang of victory, or maybe that’s just your lips as they glide across his with just the barest hint of tongue without the demand for more. It’s quite a tame kiss, and yet it’s one of the best he has ever got the pleasure to experience because it is you and it had followed your declaration of love for him. He suspects that these kinds of kisses will be his favourite for quite some time.  

The kiss ends far too soon for his liking but you do not go far when you pull back, your forehead resting against his and your hand cradling the back of his head. There is a rather lovely moment where neither of you says a thing, just gazing at one another like a couple of live sick idiots. If Astarion saw anyone else like this he would have scoffed, a biting remark quickly rolling off his tongue about how disgusting and stupid they looked. Not you though. He had known that securing you affection would be a heady rush of power and security but he hadn’t been quite ready for everything else that came with it. His mistake really, because he hadn’t never considered the fact that he would feel even remotely enamoured with you in return. How foolish of him to have underestimated you like that. He really should have known better.  

“So, are we both on the same page now?” you ask quietly, like you were afraid to be to loud and break the calmness between you. Humming softly Astarion lifted his hand, gently brushing the back of his knuckles across your cheek. “I believe we are darling.” You smile brightly at his words, truly radiant in the moment with the moonlight and darkened forest behind you. Astarion wants to kiss you again and now that he has secured your affection he supposes he can, when ever he wants to. And that was just what he was going to do now, humming slightly in satisfaction as he leant forward.  

“Argh!” Astarion cried out, eyes wide and arms flailing beside him as you gripped his ear tightly and yanked him down by it. “If you ever do anything like that again Astarion I swear to the gods that I will tell Lae’zel that you want nothing more in this life then to suck on her toes after an eight hour hike,” you hissed angrily, eyes alight once more as you threatened him with something truly horrific.  

Astarion’s stomach rolled at the thought, knowing perfectly well how putrid the Githyanki’s feet got after spending the day walking through the sun-drenched hills and valleys of Faerun. Surely you would never dream of doing something so vile, not to him at least. “Do you understand.” You yanked on his ear as you spoke, Astarion now almost doubled over and hissing at the sharp tug of pain. “Yes! Yes!” He cried out, fingers curling around your wrist but not attempting to pull you off. He supposed that said a lot about how far he had come in his time with you. Before this whole nonsense with the brain worms and saving people, he would have snapped your arm before you could even get a hold of him. Now all he did was hold your hand still, eyes wide as he looked up at you and very conscious of how easily someone as delicate as you would brake if he just tightened his grip ever so slightly. He couldn’t be so careless to do such a thing now, even as he hissed and bared his fangs. You had just declared your devotion to him so it was only right that he kept you safe in return, even from himself.  

There was a brief moment where the two of you glared at one another, Astarion able to feel your pulse under his fingers thumping away at an annoyingly steady rate. You are both angry, upset as well but Astarion would be a liar if he tried to say that your actions didn’t spark some form of smug possessiveness. You had practically declared that you were his indefinitely and though he was not foolish enough to think that you wouldn’t change your mind once it became clear how truly damaged Astarion was, he was selfish enough to grasp what you were offering him with both hands and refuse to let go until you cut them off and left him alone in the darkness once more.  

Huffing you let go of Astarion’s ear, practically pushing him away from you and if it wasn’t for his agility and quick reflexes he probably would have ended up sprawled across the dirt at your feet. Scowl deepening Astarion stood up straighter, his hand going up to rub soothingly at his abused ear. “Gods, you’re maddening,” Astarion huffed, knowing full well that he deserved your ire and probably more. You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head at his over the top reaction. “As are you,” you grumbled back.  

The two of you glared at one another for a long few seconds, trying to will the other to back down. As it was you both seemed to crack at once, you laughing gently as Astarion scrunched up his face in disgust. “Really? Could you not think of something a little less putrid?” Honestly, he felt sick just mentioning it again. You shrug, smile falling and a seriousness settling on your features. “I love you Astarion,” you stated, refusing to lose eye contact with him as you spoke. Taking the few shot steps to you, Astarion cupped your cheek, his other hand settling on your waist.  

There are so many things he wants to say to you, so many things that would reassure you of his feelings. Flowery words from poems and books detailing great romances, tainted with words he had used one to many times to entrap someone in his snare. He refused to use them now, refused to lump you in with those poor souls that had meet their end because of him. So he said the first thing that came to mind, his voice as steady and serious as yours had been. “Gale will have to pry you from my cold, dead hands if he wants you”.  

His words startle a laugh out of you but before you can remind him that the wizard has no chance with you Astarion leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. It’s a gentle kiss, one that he hopes will show you all that he can’t even begin to form into words. You mean something to him, something that terrifies him and yet leaves him feeling like he could touch the clouds all at once. Astarion has never felt for anyone the way he does you and though that is rather frightening he is willing to grasp onto that feeling of elation, refusing to let you go until you were the one that asked him too. It was selfish of him to covert you so but no one could deny that was a rather strong aspect of his personality and Astarion would take every moment he could get with you, basking in your love like he did the warm rays of the sun.  

When you pull away from one another you don’t go far, foreheads pressed together and staring into each other's eyes. If Astarion had a functioning heart he is sure it would be beating away like crazy, just like yours is. It’s a sound he enjoys, knowing it's because of him, for him. He could listen to your heart beating for hours, had in fact done that on several occasions as you lead asleep in his arms whilst Astarion waited for dawn to brake and the moment you would slip from his arms, leaving him lamenting the loss of your warmth.  

“Say it again,” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. You smile ever so sweetly, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek once again. “I love you,” your voice is no louder than his but its full of so much love and conviction that it feels like you have shouted it from the mountain tops. You lean forward, pressing a quick kiss on his lips before saying it again and again and again, each time followed by a quick kiss that had him laughing, his hand on your waist tightening and pulling your closer.  

Astarion didn’t think he had ever felt this wanted, this loved before and the thought that he had almost lost it because of his blasted insecurities and pig-headedness made he feel sick. He had been such a fool and though he could not say those three simple words back to you or promise never to hurt you or push you away again, Astarion knew that he would spend every day you granted him trying to show you how deeply he cared for you in any way he could. And if Gale had to meet and untimely end the next time they passed a cliff then so be it, his tragic demise was a price Astarion was more than willing to pay for your happiness.  

Placing one last kiss on his lips you step back, Astarion whining at the sudden loss of your warmth. Chuckling you hold your hand out towards him and nod your head back towards the camp. Astarion drops his gaze down to your awaiting hand, suddenly acutely aware of everything you were offering him. A part of him is scared to take the chance, to open himself up to all the possibilities of pain and loss that could await him in the future. That part is smaller now than it was even just an hour ago, your confession though hard to believe offering a boost of confidence that he hadn't known he needed.  

Smiling Astarion took your hand, that tiny spike of hope blossoming into to something fierce. You loved him and that was more than he had ever hoped to have in this life.  

~*~ 

“Say it again.” 

“Astarion,” you chastise him teasingly, a sweet smile on your lips and eyes sparkling with amusement. You are a vision, a true work of art with the early morning sun behind you and giving you an almost other worldly glow. Astarion wants to remember you like this for eternity, a shining beacon of love and hope in his otherwise grey and blood splattered world. It would be a memory he knew he would cling onto for centuries to come, even long after your bones had turned to dust and your name was nothing more than a whisper on his lips, completely forgotten by the rest of the world. A cherished memory that would be made that much sweeter with those three little words he found himself craving almost as much as the delectable blood that pumped through your veins. 

Astarion reached out, gently taking one of your hands in his. He doesn’t look away from you, watching as your smile slips into something softer and just for him. He does not think he will ever grow tired of seeing you like this, so full of love for him that you see nothing else but him. “Just once more darling,” he urges, desperate to hear it once more. “I promise I shan’t ask again”. You raise a brow at that, knowing full well that is a promise he will not keep. Ever since the first time you had said it Astarion had yearned to hear it again. He had spent many hours that night chasing the words from your lips with his own, feeling you breathe them into him and filling him to the brim with a possessiveness that had yet to fully dissipate. You had practically screamed them to the heavens as he had sunk his fangs into your neck, one hand gripping his and the other cradling the back of his head as he drank his fill. It was strange how everything tasted so much better now he knew how deeply you cared for him, even the most bland and unpleasant badger somehow tasting sweet and succulent.  

He tried his best to look sweet and innocent, titling his head down slightly and looking up at you through his lashes. You raised an eyebrow at him, clearly amused by his act if your wide smile was anything to go by. When he didn’t back down you huffed in amusement, rolling your eyes at him. “Fine.” Astarion’s smile widens as you give into him, shuffling forward slightly where he sat on an upturned tree to get closer to you. 

All your attention is on him as you cup his cheek with his free hand, Astarion refusing to let go of the one that sat between the two of you. “I love you, Astarion.” He practically preens at your words, disgustingly smug about it all. It’s been days since you had first yelled you confession at him and though he was now closer than being able to return the sentiment he had found on particular way to show you how deeply he felt your love and how much he cared for you in return.  

In one quick move Astarion curls his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you forward, pressing his lips against yours. It's a little more forceful then than your normal kisses, Astarion delighting in the startled moan you let out before sinking into it and kissing him back just as enthusiastically. Then again, you don’t normally have an audience. Angling your head slightly Astarion opens his eyes, his gaze locking with Gale’s across the last smouldering remains of the fire.  

The wizard is glaring at him, fists clenched at his sides and the book he had been attempting to read abandoned on his lap. Its deliciously delightful, watching the man squirm in his anger and discomfort. It’s his own fault, trying to worm his way into your heart when he knew it belonged to another. Well, if he hadn't before he did now, Astarion taking every opportunity he could to get you to confess your feelings for him when the wizard was in earshot. Was it childish and slightly vindictive of him? Yes, yes it was but Astarion really didn’t care, glad to put the man in his place time and time again whilst reminding him who you belonged to.  

Huffing, Gale snatched up his book before storming off back to his tent, Astarion able to hear him mumbling to himself about calming down and cursing Astarion’s existence. Astarion pulls away from you with a laugh, delighting in the other man's loss of composure. Your smile falls as you narrow your eyes in confusion. It doesn't take you long to realise why he is laughing, your head whipping around to look at where Gale had been just moments before.  

“Astarion,” you hiss, smacking him lightly on the chest when he still doesn't stop his laughing. “What?” he asked when he finally managed to get his laughter under control, “it’s my fault the man is so ungracious in his defeat.” You role your eyes at him, both of you well aware that Astarion was antagonizing Gale for his own amusement. “Or, maybe you could be a bit more humble in your victory,” you raise an eyebrow at him but you are already smiling again, your obvious amusement not doing anything to make him regret his behaviour.  

Smirking, he grabbed your waist and urged you forward until your legs were pressing against the inside of his. “Well, my dear, where would the fun be in that?” He doesn't wait for you to answer, leaning forward once more and pressing his lips against yours. Unlike the last one this kiss is soft and languid yet full of just as much emotion. They are his favourite kind of kisses, the two of you just getting lost in one another and he would be damned if Gale’s sour attitude was going to ruin this for him.  

Maybe he should be nicer. Maybe he should be more reserved in his gloating and keep these moments between the two of you in the secluded comfort of one of your tents but Astarion didn’t want to. You loved him. Him. The cold, dead, blood-stained monster that had been broken and abused for so long, and yet you loved him despite all that. So no, Astarion would not be nicer and he would not keep this rather amazing relationship between to two of you hidden away like it was something shameful because you loved him and Astarion wanted the world to know just how lucky he was.

@mangomonk @skittleabyss @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @atsv-obsession @duckyhowls @tamwritesstuff @unrestrictedbyreality @dinstailor @vhaldren @ammistorm @aoirohi @leighsartworks216 @paperjunk @smoothruby @wixed @nairil-daeris @lallita13 @astroxeta @half-poison-and-half-hope @kyceris @maruichio @unnamedgooselovesthed @cb97s-laptop @voidinfernal @the-garbage-central @http-babypixie @jennithejester @koalamuffin @kitorasohma @machinaux @bluewolven @wayward-hel @kiwi-mansanas @nao1800 @jumpdingus @droppedmydamncroissant @kittenkes @black-sapphic @notimminent @ladythornwood @midnightmaurader @catching-fire-in-the-wind @jellybean000 @chonkercatto @inkareds @tenderlyuniquepatrol @goslytherin @whatisthistbh @lisrelly @mirandaancunin @hellethil @lucilleifer @atsv-obsession @moisthairyfarts @princessapalindrome @bruhhhh-huhhhhh @coffeesloth-sam @lov1ngmachin3 @kimdourden @hopeful-n-sad @watermeloncorpse @winchesterfamilyfeud @etruscan-fresh @littleenglishfangirl @halffulltubofmintchip @deepseamermaid @leana316 @loudoll @gracemisconduct @cosywinterevenings @atotalmess-lol @randomrosie01 @pumpkinspicebooty @idnttkn @laavatron @atanukileaf @darkurgetrash @cubomeduza @probablysupernatural @v3ntis-lyr3 @vincetadark @babyqnn @writinghound @timeladyjamie

I think that's everyone! Sorry about the delay.

[sailorgundam308]

(Random idea that I’ve randomly spent too long on lol)

“I live for the moment when I can turn something pure into something perverse.”

— Graz'zt

Graz’zt is a demon known as “The Dark Prince” or “The Prince of Dark Pleasures”, among others, in the Forgotten Realms lore. At some point he was in charge of commanding hordes of Demons to invade the Nine Hells. What if he and Karlach crossed paths in the battlefield?

Graz’zt clearly gets a kick out of corrupting things, and Karlach, despite being a brutal killer, is arguably on the “purest” spectrum of things in Avernus. Add to that the fact she absolutely refuses to lay with anyone there, and I imagine Graz’zt would be salivating at the chance of getting such an enemy to break and grovel for him.

Karlach, however, is having none of his shit - but she can’t straight up stab his face… he’s too strong. But neither can Graz’zt just grab Karlach and drag her to the Abyss - Zariel would not forgive him, but moreover… that wouldn’t be fun.

One day, after Karlach and Astarion return to Avernus, good old Graz’zt shows his handsome face to taunt her again. If she had no time for his provocation before, now that she has a lover, she has even less. But she also needs to keep Graz’zt entertained enough so he doesn’t notice Astarion. If there’s one thing Karlach knows is that nothing is below demons, and she’s not risking Astarion becoming a target.

(Doesn’t mean Astarion won’t try to rip Graz’zt eyes off…)

[brain-rot-central]

Ok

We're getting spicy again

[noodles-n-things]

Day five - Binoculars

[jellymellydraws]

Astarion Worries About His Simple Plan

Alt POV from Chapter 12

Summary: Astarion and Gale were assigned scouting duty for the day, but before they head off, Gale and Rose disappeared into a tent together. Astarion, who was in the early steps of his very simple plan. And now, it seemed, the wizard could absolutely fuck that up. (just a little drabble I wanted to write after Chapter 12 of I've Got You with a different POV)

Astarion watched from the distance as Gale got close to Rose, even putting a hand over hers. Then, the two disappeared into the large command tent where they would strategize, and the flaps were closed.

Rose was a simple target. She so easily went along with his flirtations. Moldable as wet clay in his finely trained hands. She already fell for the first few steps of his plan. He seduced her, and he slept with her. But that last step was proving a bit tricky.

How to manipulate her feelings so she'd fall for him and never turn against him? It was so easy with other targets. Except Rose didn't swoon like a dame, she didn't reach for romance. Perhaps he misstepped-- she seemed more keen on sleeping with him than falling in love with him.

Was the wizard more her type?

He tried to listen in the conversation, but only the sounds of whispers were perceived-- just no words. Tch.

Gale's stupid face had a smile plastered on it as he left the tent. The nervousness that was once controlling his very posture was no more. And Rose, the ever watchful, ever cautious, was checking who noticed their sudden disappearance. He immediately looked at his nails, pretending to inspect them. Ah, but she was smarter than that. Of course, she was. So it was no surprise that she approached with a warning in her eyes.

"How much did you hear?" She growled.

"My friend, I have no idea what you are talking about," he smirked at her cooly.

"Keep it that way."

Ah, his favorite part about her-- the paranoia. The caution. He could work with that. Whenever she woke up screaming, who was conveniently nearby to lend an ear? When the oh-so-perfect composure of their fearless leader slipped from her grasp, who was there to catch her?

He'd make her fall, in time. But first he needed to figure out where that damned wizard could ruin it all.

It was a good thing that they had the whole morning to get to know each other.

[lavenderfluorite14]

A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav Chapter 14: Feast

Summary: Astarion isn't the only one who hungers.

Rating/Chapter Warnings: R, a lot of gore, auto-cannibalism, eye stuff involving the tadpole, so much emotional manipulation. Full fic tag list on AO3.

Astarion wakes, curled in on himself. His head throbs and he immediately regrets drinking so much the night before. He groggily opens his eyes, blinking away the remnants of his troubled sleep. It takes him a moment to recognize his surroundings. He is in Tav’s tent.

His head spins with the memory of a dream. A shining stranger beckoning him. The power you desire is within your grasp. All you have to do is embrace your potential.

He tries to sit up, but his movement jostles the warm arm thrown over him, which nudges the even warmer body spooning him from behind. Tav tightens her arm around him, pulling him back to bed.

“Don’t go,” she pleads, her voice still thick with sleep.

“But it’s the morning, darling,” he insists, trying once again to extricate himself from her embrace. Their night is over, surely he should leave. There’s no point in staying.

“No it’s not,” Tav insists, not letting go.

“Then why is the sun up,” Astarion asks pointedly.

Tav doesn’t move. “Just five more minutes,” she whines softly. He sighs loudly and Tav snuggles up against him even further. He tries not to enjoy her warmth, her heartbeat. How nice this feels. He could get used to this.

He allows her almost exactly 5 minutes.

“Alright darling, enough laying about.” Tav groans and tries to burrow under the covers, but Astarion tears the blankets off of them.

“Let’s see what horrors await us today.”

~

Halsin is big by any standard but he is absolutely enormous for an elf. He’s ruggedly handsome, but deceptively serene. His soft brown eyes don’t always conceal the fury that simmers underneath.

Halsin is certain that a cure for their infection lies at Moonrise Towers. However, the towers sit on cursed land shrouded in unnatural, hungry darkness. Everything that lingers there eventually succumbs to the Shadow Curse. 

“I’d like to join you, if you are headed to Moonrise,” Halsin offers.

“Do not be so hasty. The Githyanki crèche remains our priority,” Lae’Zel reminds them, as annoyingly focused as ever.

“I promised Lae’Zel that we would seek out her crèche,” Tav confirms. “But I’m keeping our options open. If we can’t be cured at the crèche then it sounds like our next best bet is Moonrise.” She smiles at the bear. “You are welcome to come with us. We’ll take all the help we can get.” Halsin smiles back at her, his mouth a warm sliver of sunshine. Astarion rolls his eyes, squashing the rising prickle of jealousy inside of him. 

“Of course we will be cured at the crèche!” Lae’Zel protests. “And once you are cured, you istiks will understand the glory of Vlaakith!”

“If this X is where the Githyanki were last seen, then it is likely that the crèche you seek is in the Western Mountain Pass,” Halsin deduces, pointing to their map. “That pass will take you to the very tip of the Shadow Cursed Lands. Alternatively, you could also travel through the Underdark. A man called Ketheric Thorm was able to use a secret underground route to covertly move his army of Dark Justiciars from Moonrise Towers throughout Faerûn.”

Shadowheart perks up at this. “There were Dark Justiciars here?”

“Oh yes. Supposedly there is a secret entrance to the Underdark beneath the ruined Temple of Selûne. I was seeking it with Aradin and his party when we were captured,” Halsin explains.

“We must go through the Underdark,” Shadowheart argues. “It is my duty to follow where my Dark Lady leads me. If there were Dark Justiciars there, then I must find them.” 

“Our quest for a cure remains paramount and cannot be waylaid. The crèche is the only way,” Lae’Zel hisses. Shadowheart glares at her.

“I don’t expect a Githyanki to understand the importance of-”

“Lae’Zel has been adamant about reaching her crèche for a week now. Let’s start there, and once we have concluded our business at the crèche perhaps we can circle back around,” Tav states evenly, regarding them both with a placid, unmoving eye. 

“But-” Before Shadowheart can finish her sentence, an odd psionic drop punctures the air. Astarion feels the tadpole in his brain twitch with hunger in response to the resonance, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it began.

“Fine,” Shadowheart grumbles. Astarion glances at Karlach who shakes her head in judgment. Tav must have used the tadpole to speak with Shadowheart. Astarion desperately wonders what they said to each other. He doesn’t like this taste of his own medicine.

~

Astarion plunges his dagger into the bloated, writhing body of a hyena. The beast howls as it dies, its rotten child dying in its belly. Wyll unleashes an Eldritch Blast against another dying hyena, but he is too late. A beast springs out of her putrid body, tearing through the soft walls of her abdomen with its claws, bursting into bloody life. The beast rears back, teetering on its newborn legs. It has the head of a dog and the naked body of a man. It tips its head back and howls.

Gnolls. Savage creatures born from unholy hunger. A gnoll could devour the entire continent and still thirst for more.

“Quickly! We need to kill them before they all transform!” Gale yells, launching Magic Missile at another chittering hyena. Their dying bodies lay sprawled across the bottom of the canyon, plump and on the edge of bursting with their foul offspring. 

The last bitch dies, but it is too late. Malicious laughter echoes down the canyon as canine heads peek out from the rocky crags above them, their maws dripping with spit and blood. The rest of the pack looms above them, lying in wait. A crude arrow glances off of Tav’s shoulder and she recoils in pain as their laughter swells in an evil crescendo.

Astarion can smell her blood. He can pick it out, even amongst the gory bouquet. There’s so much carnage that he quivers on the verge of frenzy. 

“Holy hells,” Wyll whispers, pointing to the top of the ridge. A hulking behemoth of a gnoll sits perched at the top of the cliff, watching them with ravenous eyes. She throws her snout back and howls, an answer to the newborn’s cry.

The tadpole squirms behind his eye, connecting Astarion’s mind to his companions in a swooning rush. Gale’s mind is working overtime, suggesting strategy after strategy for how they can survive this while Wyll’s mind focuses on conjuring the Hunger of Hadar. Tav’s mind races, weighing these options. There’s a shock of psychic pain as another presence clamps on to their collective, overpowering in its desperation for meat. It slavers all over itself, longing to be full.

It’s a gnoll. One of them must be infected. He instinctively jerks against the awful presence, pushing back against it. The gnoll’s mind sniffs at him. 

FEAST! it screams. Astarion sees himself from her eyes, a pulsing red cluster of organs. Astarion presses further into her memory and he sees swathes of rich blood as the gnoll daubs the symbol of the Absolute on a cave wall. No….The Voice has forbidden this meat . Her mind plunges into despair when she realizes that he is infected too.

He feels her tadpole squirm, struggling to control her. He reaches for it and glorious power rushes through their connection. He wraps his hand around the insatiable chaos of her mind, clenching it in a tight psionic fist. Astarion forces a horrid thought into the yawning chasm of her brain:

Feast on your pack. Their flesh will be delicious.

Her tadpole rejoices, echoing Astarion’s command. The She-Gnoll unleashes a torrent of hideous laughter as her will splinters and breaks. She turns and lunges at the nearest gnoll, ripping and tearing into her pack-mate. It screams as the rest of the gnolls follow her lead, turning on each other.

“ Ira et Dolor! ” Wyll bellows, and a black icy fog rolls in to cover the murderous beasts.

“Holy shit,” Tav pants, still clutching her injured shoulder.

“Was that your doing, Astarion?” Gale asks. His voice flickers with incredulity and admiration.

“It was!” Astarion giddily cries. Astarion peers through the fog, desperate for glimpses of the fiend. “I simply imposed my will on her.” 

“These powers get more and more impressive by the day,” Gale observes with guarded awe.

The Hunger of Hadar conceals the slaughter, but it does not conceal its sounds. They all listen in silent horror as screams of pain and rage filter out of the mist. They cannot see the wet tearing of flesh and the red splatter of blood, but they can hear the sticky mastication, the satisfied grunts as the gnolls devour each other. The sounds slowly wane as the macabre feast continues until all that is left is the harsh crunching of bones.

It’s horrible, but it’s all his doing. He did this, and she was helpless to stop herself. It’s disgusting, wretched, vile. And yet. His voice was heard. He could not be denied. 

Astarion wonders if this is what Cazador feels when he compels his spawn.

Soon, a shape begins to stir from the depths of the darkness. It looms larger and larger as whatever is left alive slowly lumbers towards them. The She-Gnoll limps out of the gloom, glowering malevolently. They all feel the oppressive throb from her tadpole: she is still hungry.

For a moment, Astarion pities her. Their plights are not so different, in a way. Then he comes to his senses.

Her tongue darts out of her maw, lapping up a chunk of viscera from her whiskers. It lolls out of her mouth, dripping spit. Another ripple of illithid energy violently connects them.

Eat yourself.

Tav’s order is adamantine. The beast’s mind chafes against it, fiercely fighting to survive.

Eat. Yourself.

The gnoll’s mind cracks under the insane command. Unhinged, she tears into her own flesh with a broken scream of pain. Unable to resist the force of Tav’s control, she eats and eats and eats.

“Mystra have mercy,” Gale implores in a horrified whisper. The beast swallows one final time, slumping forward in a dead, bloody heap. “Or, perhaps not.”

Tav stares at the dead gnoll, stunned. “I can’t believe she really did that,” she whispers. 

“These tadpoles are far more powerful than even I had originally thought,” Astarion continues excitedly. He looks towards Tav, who stares dumbfounded at the half-eaten carcass. He grasps her hand, yanking her attention back to him. “Think of the potential. If we can bend other Infected to our will, the possibilities are limitless.” It’s a breathtaking, devastating temptation. He aches for such power.

“The potential here is appealing. While horrifying, it was an intoxicating rush,” Gale agrees. Tav nods silently.

“I won’t begrudge us an edge,” Wyll says. “But lest we forget, these powers come with a cost. Who knows how far downwards this illithid talon will drag us.”

“Must you always rain on our parade!” Astarion gripes, glaring at Wyll. “These gnolls would have devoured any traveler unlucky enough to pass through here. Perhaps even our Tiefling friends. Killing them keeps the Sword Coast safe AND benefits us, I don’t see why we can’t have both.”

“I would do almost anything to keep the Sword Coast safe,” Wyll says quietly.

“Naturally, as would we all,” Astarion agrees with a hand wave. “All I’m saying is that we should keep an open mind about the tadpole.”

“I still can’t believe she did that,” Tav murmurs, still in disbelief. “I wanted to channel her hunger and follow its thread and-” 

“And just look at the result,” Astarion interjects. “It kept us safe, brought us power! You did nothing wrong.”

“It felt-"

There’s a parasite in that corpse. Take it.

They all flinch as a foreign suggestion ripples through them.

“That felt exactly like the person in my dream,” Tav says.

“And mine.”

“Did we all have the same dream?”

“Sounds like it.”

Tav steps over the carcass. A fleshy parasite pulses in the socket of the skull like a fatted leech. She bottles up the rotten prize quickly, slipping it into her bag before ushering them quickly up the road, away from their massacre. 

~

Dark black clouds, the kind that can only mean trouble, billow down the Risen Road and over their heads as they march up the ravine. Astarion wants to ignore it and go back to camp, but Tav, Wyll, and Gale refuse to mind their own business.

Their course is obvious. Screams of terror and anguish drift towards them as they approach the pillar of smoke. Soon they see red, angry flames licking up the walls of a squat, simple building. A squadron of Flaming Fist pound at the barred doors of the inn, ramming their bodies into the slowly splintering door. What are the Fist doing out in the wilderness, so far from Baldur’s Gate?

“Put your back into it! Duke Ravengard is inside!”

“What!? He’s here!?” Wyll immediately bolts forward, nimbly leaping over burning wood and bodies alike. “We have to help him!” He cries, conjuring an Eldritch Blast.

“Stand aside!” Tav screams over the din. The Fist scramble out of the way and Wyll unleashes the blast, destroying the inn’s doors with a crash. Wyll rushes inside immediately, covering his nose and mouth with his arm as he disappears into the flames.

“We have to help!” Tav calls, dashing in after him. Gale follows, waving Astarion inside as he goes. Astarion balks at the roaring flames, the searing heat, the ash raining down on their heads. But as terrible as the fire is, he doesn’t want to be left behind. And there’s probably a reward for helping a Duke. He hurries inside after his foolish companions.

~

Duke Ravengard was not inside, but Councillor Florrick was. The inn had been ambushed in a drow and goblin raid, the Grand Duke carried off like a spoil of war.

Drow and goblins? That sounded familiar. All of them share a look. There’s only one place they could have taken him. Moonrise. 

Councillor Florrick recognizes Wyll immediately despite his newfound horns. Turns out, honest, noble Wyll has been hiding a pretty big secret of his own. Wyll isn’t just the Blade of Frontiers. He is also Wyll Ravengard, son of Ulder Ravengard, the kidnapped Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate.

“And not just a Grand Duke. Ravenguard has more power and influence than anyone,” Astarion observes, envy and admiration coloring his words in equal measure.

A Duke’s son could be the perfect ace up his sleeve. He’d be more than willing to put aside their differences if it meant he could count on the protection of a Duke and his son. 

But a question gnaws at his mind. If Wyll decides to pursue Tav the way he had intimated, would Tav accept his advances? She’d be a fool not to.

Astarion can’t compete with the son of a Duke, even a disowned one. Astarion has no title, no lands, no chattel. His estate is dust and death. His inheritance is a covetous vampire lord, hunting him to the ends of Faerûn. Who in their right mind would choose him when there are many other better options? Or at least, less complicated options.

As they trudge back to camp, Tav peppers Wyll with questions about music lessons, dances, and balls, all the things that bards enjoy. Wyll answers with flushed embarrassment, describing a genteel but adventurous childhood that could have been ripped from the pages of a novel. A knot forms in Astarion’s stomach as he realizes that his days as Tav’s favorite may actually be numbered now.

~

Karlach made dinner that night. She made a simple but hearty meal, the kind a soldier would make: a thick stew with hunks of bread, sausages, and of course, bottles of ale and wine. Astarion doesn’t partake tonight, but he likes to see what the others are eating. And judge their cooking skills accordingly, of course. 

Karlach was a better cook than he had thought. He had expected burnt grilled cheese, but the Fury of Avernus had some surprises up her metaphorical sleeves. 

As he is settling in with a new book, The True and Impossible Adventures of Tenebrux Morrow , Tav meanders over to his tent. There’s a wary, almost guilty look on her face and his heavy stomach sinks even further.

“Mind if I come in?” she asks.

“Of course, my darling,” Astarion responds automatically, closing his novel. He sweeps aside the tent flap for her with a gaudy flourish. “Welcome to my humble abode.” Tav steps inside, hovering nervously by the entrance.

“How are you this evening?” she begins.

“Well enough,” Astarion responds. Tav nods.

“That’s good,” she replies. She fidgets from side to side, silent. One of her hands fiddles with something in her pocket.

“Surely you didn’t come all this way just to exchange pleasantries,” Astarion accuses, annoyed now. If she’s cast him aside for Wyll then he’d rather she just tell him and get this over with.

“You’re right, I did not,” she admits. “It’s just, I’m not really sure how to approach this.” 

“Spit it out. I want to read my book,” he huffs.

Tav pulls her hand out of her pocket and proffers her fist between them. She clutches two vials tightly. Plump, translucent tadpoles squirm behind the cloudy glass.

“I was wondering if you wanted to take a tadpole with me?” She asks. “Embrace our potential. Or, something.”

“My darling, I would love to ‘take a tadpole with you’,” he gushes, all sweetness now.

“We actually have quite a few tadpoles now. But I was thinking we could start small? Try one and see how it goes?”

“Now there’s an idea,” he says, taking a vial. The tadpole inside flares to life, bearing its tiny needle teeth. His lips twist in disgust. “Gods, they are ugly little things.”

“Just awful,” she agrees.

“So, do we just-?”

“I think we have to insert them. Occularly, as Gale would say.”

Astarion stares down at the overgrown leech in his palm. As it roils and wriggles behind the glass, ostensibly trying to find a way into his brain, he becomes less and less sure that this is the right decision. But it’s the only chance he has against Cazador’s control. He clenches his fist around the vial.

“Alright then. Would you like to do the honors, my dear?” he asks, tone light and chivalrous. His mind is made up, but that does not mean he wants to go first.

“Ok, I’ll try,” Tav says. Her fingers tap along the glass bottle.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks again, for what feels like the thousandth time. “Maybe we should wait and see what lies at Moonrise before we insert more incurable worms into our brains.”

“I thought we were in this together, darling,” he says snidely. “But if I’m in this alone, I suppose I’ll just-”

“No, no you aren’t!” Tav insists. “I just…I just need a minute.” Tav smooths her armor down, expelling a long puff of air as she tries to calm herself. Volo had given her a completely new jerkin, a silly thing with flat pearl beads and gold embroidery stitched all along the vest. She wears it well, or as well as anyone can wear something like that.

“I need to stop thinking and just do it,” she assures herself.

“Exactly!”

“Exactly.” 

She uncorks the vial and pinches the suspiciously docile parasite between her fingers. Tilting her head back, she brings it slowly to her eye. The parasite flares in excitement, its teeth seeking flesh, and Tav throws the little pustule to the ground, screaming in disgust. She stomps on the worm with a wet squelch.

“Look what you’ve done!” Astarion angrily exclaims. “It’s all over my tent now!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Tav cries. She prestidigitates and the worm guts evaporate, as if they were never there. She rubs her brow. “This is just too gross, I don’t think I can do it.”

“Fine. If you’re too scared, then I’ll just do it myself,” he sneers. This is nothing. Cazador made him do so much worse. He uncorks his vial and grabs the little horror firmly. Before he can stop to reconsider he brings the worm up to his eye. It surges forward out of his grasp and greedily latches onto his eyeball.

It’s the Nautiloid all over again. For a moment he’s back in the Mindflayer’s pod, at its mercy as the worm wriggles relentlessly into his brain. And then Astarion’s mind swells and he feels his brain absorb the tadpole. Everything it was, everything it would have been, is now his. He shudders with satisfaction.

Good. You have grown your power and improved your chance of survival.

Then he feels it: the worm ate something. Something he can’t remember, but something he will never get back.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” Tav asks, concerned.

“I am,” he breathes. He flexes his hands, checking himself for any changes. “And not a tentacle to be seen.”

Oh well. If he can’t remember it then it must not have been that important.

“Are you hurt?” 

“Not at all. In fact, I feel quite good.”

“You didn’t look good,” Tav says. “Your face bulged. You turned blue. I thought you were transforming.”

“Well it felt wonderful. Once you get past the whole eye thing.”

“Really? What did it feel like?”

“It felt like-" Astarion pauses, really considering the question. “Like nothing in the world could stop me.” Tav looks up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Like everything I wanted could be mine.”

“Should I do it?” Tav reaches into her pocket and pulls out another vial. It glistens with cerebrospinal fluid.

“That depends. Do you want the power the tadpole offers?”

“I do, I just-“ She hesitates. “I’m just scared.” Astarion smiles a wide, fanged smile.

“Here, let me help you,” he simpers. He plucks the vial from her hands, uncorking it with finesse and grasping the tadpole firmly between his thumb and index finger. He cups her chin, tilting her face towards him. “All you have to do is look at me.” She gazes unblinkingly up at him as he lays the worm against her eye. The tadpole does the rest.

Tav gasps, recoiling out of his grasp, as the worm tunnels into her brain. She bends over, clutching her mottling face. The veins in her face bulge blue.

“Tav?” he cries, alarmed. She twitches and spasms, and for a terrible moment he thinks he has lost her to the parasite. Then Tav straightens up, panting hard, but still Tav.

“Sweet Hells,” she breathes, inspecting herself.

“And? How do you feel?” he asks.

“Good. Weird, but good,” she realizes.

“I told you so, my little treasure,” Astarion demures. “And this is just the beginning. If one tadpole could make a gnoll eat itself alive, then what could two do? Five? Ten?”

“Let’s see how this new one goes first,” she counters. “There is still a lot we don’t know.”

“You are no fun,” he pouts. “But still, a promising start.” He looks her up and down suggestively on instinct. A small flirtatious crumb for giving him what he wanted. 

“So, it’s getting kind of late,” Tav observes, blushing.

“It is. You should go rest, we have yet another long day ahead of us.” He picks up his book again, thumbing back to where he left off. “I’ll see you in the morning, pet.”

“Can I rest here? With you?” She asks.

“Why?” He asks, skeptically.

“What I meant to say is, did you want to sleep together tonight?” Tav clarifies.

“You’re turned on, after all that worm business?” Astarion asks, his voice thick with judgment. He quickly catches himself. “Well, I suppose-“

“Oh gods no,” she insists. “What I really meant is, do you want to sleep next to each other tonight?”

“And I ask once again, why?”

“Because it was a long, stressful day and this feels nice. Safe.” Tav supplies. She pauses. “Because we like each other.”

Astarion considers saying something snappy and rude. Safe.

“Fine, I’ll allow it.”

~

Tav gathers up her essentials and brings them into his tent. She curls up next to him in his bedroll, close but not touching, as he reads his book. She gives him a long, lingering kiss on his lips and a soft peck on his cheek before turning over and drifting off. When Astarion wakes, he finds that he had curled around her in the middle of the night, his arms wrapped around her abdomen, his legs tangled in hers.