#karlach: *sigh* FINE. But you're cleaning after him

[maegalkarven]

Empty prayers

Logical continuation of the AU where everything flies off the rails at the Moonrise Towers:

https://www.tumblr.com/maegalkarven/731364247822598144/au-where-dark-urge-didnt-loose-memories-and-the?source=share

Following the derail of all of his plans by his own hands, Lord Enver Gortash contemplates the future. Luckily, he doesn't have to do it alone.

m!Dark Urge x Enver Gortash, Karlach.

"I don't think he will answer."

Enver doesn't turn around to look at the bhaalspawn. He hears the crunching of dead leaves and sticks under the man's boots and feels a familiar presence close to his shoulder.

Regardless of that, he does not turn.

There's a small, carefully constructed altar in front of him. Perfect, it looks like, perfect with the offering and the incense burning.

Yet his god is silent.

"Enver, really, I don't think Bane will-"

"He has to," comes out a little bit harshly, a little bit forcefully. There's a bitter taste of desperation on his tongue. He pushes it back. "I am his Chosen-"

"I don't think you are anymore."

"I am," he insists as his voice rings louder, pitching to a high, urgent note. "I am the Chosen of Bane, I am his Hand, I am his Voice, I am his Will; and he will answer me."

He feels Nemo's piercing stare burn into the side of his face, but does not look up. Does not meet the familiar honey of the gaze he thought he has lost.

Does not think of all the implications this gaze brings.

Nemo is alive, here, next to him; so close Enver can touch him.

Yet somehow everything is ruined.

A pair of firm hands lay on his shoulders gently and he almost flinches at the touch.

But it's just Nemo.

"No," his bhaalspawn whispers softly. "No, he will not. You have failed him, my dear, just the way I've failed father. You chose wrong," Enver tries to move away from the touch, but the man's fingers only dig in deeper.

"You should have pushed me into the pool. You should have taken Orin's side in the conflict or did not intervene at all. But you," a deep, heavy sigh and a weight of Nemo's body pressing against Gortash's back.

"You chose me. Consciously or not, but you put my survival above everything else; above our plan, above your alliance, above your god. And gods like your and mine do not tolerate disobedience."

"You created this plan with me," Enver tries. "We were brilliant together. Orin has ruined everything; she could not control herself. She was a liability-"

"She was the Chosen of Bhaal," Nemo whispers right into his ear, the breath coming out hot. "It was not your place to decide if she was liability or not. And anyway, I don't think this is why you did what you did."

"It was her own fault," he tries again and feels like a child trying to avoid the punishment. He remembers, long time ago, in a house he prefers to not think about, in a cell what was his home, he used to plead the same way.

Raphael never listened.

"And Ketheric's; they compromised the plan, they put everything in danger, I was just trying to fix it, to put things right-"

Nemo hums.

"Have you tried telling Bane that?" As the matter of fact, he did. "I doubt he'd take this as an excuse." He didn't. "Bhaal beneath, Ketheric was right, wasn't he? Gods only answer when they have something to say. I guess Bane has nothing to say to you anymore."

"He will answer me," Enver insists with the persistence of the damned. "He needs me."

"He really, really doesn't," Nemo presses himself closer and Gortash allows himself a moment to lean back into the touch, to seep out any comfort it provides and feed to his weary soul.

Nemo. Nemo. Alive.

And it only took everything to go to the hells for that to happen.

"I know he hears me," Enver tries again.

"Oh, I have no doubt he does. But Enver, darling, don't you think this whole...fiasco would look bad for Bane? Don't you think the most sensible thing he could do would be to wash his hands clean of this?"

Enver hates to admit Nemo is right; it would be the sensible thing to do. It would be what Gortash himself would do in Bane's place: abandon the lost cause and move on. Find another, better Chosen.

Only there's no better Chosen than him.

"I am the only one who can realize all of his plans," he tries not to think about it. About his Steel Watch, unstable with one of the stones in control of the Brain. Of the cult of Murder under the foot of a thrall of the said thing, of the prodigal murderer as a meat puppet of the entity beyond their comprehension. Of Ravengard, untadpoled, no doubt giving a speech at the inn right now.

Everything went to complete and utter shit. But he can fix it; he can. Surely Bane knows that.

Surely Nemo does.

Nemo lets out a dark, unkind type of a laugh.

"You just destroyed all of his plans," he murmurs almost lovingly. "All and every single one of them. There's no recovering from that, only moving forward."

Enver hates what Nemo is right. And he hates what he knows what Nemo is right. And he hates Bane, and he hates Orin, and stupid Ketheric with his stupid sacrifice for a bitch of a daughter who did not deserve it, and he hates Raphael - honestly, fuck Raphael; and he hates his parents, he hopes they'll die, and he hates Karlach and her big open heart what was ripped out yet is still somehow inside her ribcage-

And he hates Nemo for how much he cares for Nemo, and really, all of this is actually his fault, if not for him, then-

"Are you done with your pity party?" And speak of the devil. Oh, well, a tiefling with infernal engine for a heart. "Duke Ravengard is holding a council," typical. "And your presence is required."

His old friend gives him a short, bitter look.

"This is not a pity party," Nemo argues and the woman snorts.

"Sure looks like one. Gods, it truly is a sign, isn't it?" She whistles. "I used to think I want to see you dead, but seeing you like this, fallen from grace, demoted to what you have always been - that feels even better."

A bubbling, bitter anger raises in him and Enver moves to stand-

"Oh, cut out with this," Nemo interrupts, his hands still firmly on Enver's shoulders. "He saved my life."

"And this is what I still don't understand," Karlach argues. "But it doesn't really matter; this is me actually playing nice. Trust me, if I've decided to give him back the treatment he gave me, he would not be standing right here. Or, well, sitting right here."

"We are all in the same boat now," Nemo tries placidly. "Dealing with the consequences of-"

"-Enver Gortash's actions."

"Our actions. I was involved, remember?"

"You didn't have a choice," she argues. "Bhaal made you; cut from his very own flesh. You have known no life but what your evil father showed you. You were not acting on your own accord. He," an angry gesture at Gortash. "Acted on his own accord. And sold me to Zariel. So she could rip off my heart and make me an unwilling soldier in her war."

"Oh, stop playing the victim," Enver snarls. "I gave you a chance to be something greater than you were. I gave you a chance to be stronger, better, invincible. With this engine no one could touch you, no one could hurt you. It was practically a dream come true and you threw it away, the ungrateful brat you have always been."

Fire erupts from her engine, wrapping itself against Karlach's entire body. Her eyes blaze as she steps forward, and for a moment Enver almost feels...That can't be it, he is still wearing his coat.

He scrambles to his feet, reaching for the crossbow. Bane is silent, he will always be silent from now on, but Gortash doesn't really need him, he doesn't need anyone-

"I'll make you choke on these words," Karlach threatens and damn it, why does it take so long to fix up his damn crossbow, is it broken-

Then a small, thin figure moves to stand between them.

Nemo looks...so insignificant compared to Karlach; he has no fire engine running in his chest, he has no muscles to rival hers, he has no claws and no horns.

Just plain looking half-elf with a crooked dagger in his hand.

"No," he says firmly. "You will not kill each other. Either you two calm the fuck down or you'll have to kill me first. And," a quick glance behind. "I really don't think this is what either of you wants."

"Nemo," Karlach frowns. "Step away. He had it coming-"

"No."

"Nemo-"

"No," the bhaalspawn snarls and something sparks in his eyes, deep, dark and deadly. Bhaal is here. Bhaal has gone nowhere.

Orin was wrong.

"You are not killing him, you're not as much as harming him, Enver Gortash is mine."

Karlach actually looks taken aback at that.

"Yours to do what?"

"Mine to keep, and mine to torture and, if it comes to it, mine to kill. But he is mine and he will stay that way. Bane is finally out of the way, so don't think I'll let you interfere."

"Nemo, this is- You're not exactly-"

"He is the only fucking person who has ever got it," there's a bleeding desperation oozing from the spawn's voice.

"The only man to be my equal. The only true partner I had ever had. I went to the Moonrise Towers with the dreadful knowledge I'd die here, with the belief this man would stick a dagger so deep into my back it'll protrude from my chest. And instead," he is breathing heavily, his broken, pathetic mess of the murderer. Perfect.

"He saved me. He took my side in a fight what had nothing to do with him. He chose me when it was an an obviously stupid thing to do, he has forsaken everything by letting me live. You cannot have him."

They stand like that for a while in a complete silence.

Karlach, double axe in her hands and shock mixed with pity in her gaze.

Nemo, breathing heavily, hands trembling, his own blade digging deep into the flesh of his palm, a thin red string of blood trailing down into the dirt.

Enver, mesmerized, taking in every breath, every shift of his unlucky, broken, forsaken mistake of a lover. Elevated by the sheer force of his devotion.

They need no gods but the ones they create. They need no gods but themselves.

Finally Karlach sighs and lowers the axe.

"For you," she drops down, turning away. "Only for you, for everything you've done for me and the friendship we have. But make no mistake, I am watching him," a rude gesture Enver reciprocates. "And if he does one wrong step, his messy fucking head will come flying off."

"I'd like to see you try," Enver starts and immediately gets kicked into the ribs with Nemo's elbow. Brat.

"Alright," the bhaalspawn smiles. "Thank you. You said something about the council?"

And somehow the end of the world gets delayed for just one more day.

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3: Chapter 7

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 7: To the goblin camp!

Word count: 2.1K

The next morning you’re exhausted and nauseated.  You aren’t sure how much blood Astarion took but it was enough to get Tav flitting around you, his mother duck feathers ruffled.  

It’s hard not to look at Astarion as you try to gauge the vampire’s attitude—does he want to tell the others?  After feeding on Tav the others just seemed to know in the morning once you start talking to him, so you’re at a loss for words stuck between wanting to tell the truth, and wanting to earn Astarion’s trust.

“Looks like you and Astarion had a late night last night,” Karlach interjects with a wide grin.  “Saw him slinking out of your tent in the wee morning hours.  Gotta say I’m a little jealous—of both of you I mean.  Getting to touch another person like that…”

Gale chokes on his water, sputtering and coughing behind you. 

“I don’t think that’s what they were doing, Karlach,” Shadowheart says.  “Unless it was before he took a bite.”

Karlach laughs.  “Isn’t biting part of the fun?”

“Biting?” Tav questions.

You lift your arm, expecting to see dried blood and two little holes in your wrist but it’s completely normal.  Even whatever blood hadn’t made it into Astarion’s mouth was nowhere to be seen.

Shadowheart reveals, “I healed the wound and cleaned up the blood.  Astarion didn’t want to be blamed for you bleeding out in the middle of the night.  Nor did I.”

“Thanks,” you respond, eyes still on your wrist.  If you didn’t feel like throwing up it’s like it never even happened.

Gale appears at your side.  “To each their own, I always say, but if it leads to such dire circumstances perhaps you should find yourself a more suitable partner.”

“For the love of—“ Astarion cries out.  “We didn’t have sex!  I fed—I’m a…I’m a vampire.”

That little admission didn’t sound intentional, but you’re glad to have the attention on him. 

He must have told Shadowheart because she’s the only one that isn’t displaying shock, confusion, curiosity, or disgust.  

“But you’re in the sun.”  Karlach is first to break the quiet.

There’s a discussion about what the parasite is capable of, resulting in Karlach complaining, “So you can walk in the sun but I still can’t touch anyone?  Seems unfair.”

Tav grabs you into a one-armed hug, nearly slamming you against his chest as he points his other hand at Astarion.  “You feed off me next time!  I have more blood, I can afford it.”

“Isn’t it better if he feeds on me?” you ask into the tieflings chest.  “Since I’m not going out and fighting off goblins and spiders?”

Your dream comes back to you—talking around the fire, learning magic with Gale…but you can’t decipher which is memory and which is the dream.  You focus on it, knowing that Tav had found the amethyst and was tossing it around like a toy only to be scolded by Gale.  But no book.  Maybe that was why you hadn’t felt anything from it in the dream—there was no memory to pull from.  You find yourself a little disappointed by the fact that Gale hadn’t offered to test your magic but quickly push away the feeling.

You push Tav away, too.  “Besides, I’m fine.  I’m not that important here anyway so if Astarion needs to feed on me now and again he’s welcome to.”

“Thank you, darling,” Astarion says, “but I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

After that the group forces you to consume as much fruit as possible in a single sitting.  Soon enough your nausea isn’t from blood loss but overeating, and you’re shooing away the worriers—Tav, Gale, and Karlach. 

“Don’t you guys have somewhere to be?  Halsin is still out there.”  There’s a pang in your chest knowing he’s in the goblin camp.

“That’s true.”  Tav sighs.  “You should come with us.”

You pause, wondering if you looked healthier than you felt.  “…why?”

“It’ll be fun?  And when you lose blood it’s better to be out and about.”

“That doesn’t sound remotely right,” you reply.  Tav is kneeling beside you, eyes large and watery as they look into your own.  Can tieflings be half puppy?  You have to stop yourself from agreeing to his request on the spot.  “I don’t want to slow you guys down.  Or get one of you killed.  Or die.”

“We aren’t going to be fighting, they’re going to let us in.”

There’s too many variables and you’re forced to repeat, “Why?”

“We went back and got Sazza, the goblin you saved,” Tav explains.

“She was grateful enough to offer us an introduction to her tribe and leaders,” Gale says.  “I’m sure your presence will grease the wheels, so to speak.” 

You conceded, if only after Tav gave you another small health potion.

You set out with more party members than you thought you would—Tav, Karlach, Gale, and Astarion.  You hope Wyll would be enough of a buffer for Shadowheart and Lae’zel as they search the upper roads for signs of the githyanki.  It’s strange to see the camp split up, but it makes more sense than leaving people to sit around all day. Granted, you’d love to be sitting right now as you approach the bridge leading into the goblin camp.  It’s not just the fatigue, or the anxiety of being surrounded by goblins, but knowing what will happen when they cross the bridge.  When you cross the bridge.  And what it means if nothing happens. You hadn’t actually seen the device Shadowheart held and she wasn’t even here right now…

“It will be okay,” Gale says quietly.  You’d lagged back far enough for him to notice, and stay near you.  “You’ve seen just how charming our fearless leader is.”

You force your lips into a shaky smile and nod.  With Gale at your side you catch up to the others as they’re about to cross the bridge into the ruined shrine.  The spiky barricades aren’t nearly as threatening as what’s about to come. 

Tav sets one foot on the bridge, then Karlach, Astarion, Gale…you.  Your leader is halfway across when you briefly think you might be in the clear, until he falls to his knees.  He grunts in pain, holding his head as the others follow suit, all of them going down at the same time beneath the pressure of the Absolute.  

You flinch back and…nothing.  You’re fine.  You hear no voice, feel no pain in your body, other than what you had before, and watch while the others shiver and groan, listening to the Absolute's message about the chosen three.  You grip your staff as you watch with wide eyes, heart clenching, unable to help them or understand why you aren’t included.  But the tadpole in your head doesn’t stir, not even when the relic shoots out of Tav’s bag and saves them from the Absolute’s control.  It glows orange as it floats above Tav until he can grab it, releasing the group.

“What in the bloody Hells was that?” Astarion shouts.

They’re each breathing heavy as they stand, shaking their heads in hopes of clearing their minds.  

“I think that was the Absolute,” Gale suggests, “and her chosen.”

“Whatever it was, that thing protected us.”  Karlach’s eyes are in the Githyanki device in Tav’s hands.  He shifts it between his fingers but it doesn’t react, so he puts it back into the bag at his waist.

And nobody questions you.  Being the last one behind, they seem to assume you’d heard the voice and seen the vision, too.  You’ve never been so grateful to be an unimportant extra.

You try not to let your exhaustion show in front of the goblins.  Your body and mind both feel like there’s a heavy weight on them, pushing you towards the ground until your knees want to buckle.  You’re using the staff to help keep you upright, and blame everything on blood loss and anxiety.  

Thankfully Gale was right about Tav’s charisma and you get inside the temple with little trouble.  The trouble being dragging Tav away from chicken chasing.  They have a chicken, not an owlbear, and the only other human there is Volo so you’re not sure what route was taken yesterday.  Nobody had mentioned an owlbear, meaning they had skipped past the cave…or perhaps didn’t want to tell you about killing the cub.

Regardless, apparently chicken chasing is as fun for Tav as it is for the goblins, and you’re only able to get him away and into the temple by promising you’ll give it a try when you’re feeling better. 

Once inside and past the guards, you see Priestess Gut.  Her presence is more imposing than her stature suggests and there’s a crackling fear that runs through your body when her eyes fall on you.  Tav takes the lead, denying the branding after a quick meeting of the worms, and the Priestess invites him elsewhere. 

“Not that one, though,” she says, looking at you.  “That one’s not a True Soul, been abandoned by the Absolute.  They’ll stay locked up until we’re done.”

“Huh?”  It’s all you can think to say as two goblins with pikes and shields approach you.  They don’t get close enough to touch you before the others step to your aid, which puts the rest of the surrounding goblins on alert, drawing their own weapons.

“Not gonna happen,” Karlach announces.

“Put your weapons down while I’m bein’ nice,” Priestess Gut orders.  “I could just have you all killed on the spot but I’m feeling generous–you’ll all walk out of here fine but that one stays in the cage until we’re done.”

Tensions rise when she spits out the words “that one”, like you’re some gnat needing to be squished.  Your companions don’t lower their weapons, and neither do the goblins.  You know how this fight goes, you know it can be won when turns are taken but right now there are no turns.  No waiting.

“I’ll go!” you shout.  You hold your staff out to Gale, cursing the slight tremble in your hands and voice.  “It’s just for a bit.  I’ll wait for you guys in…prison.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Gale whispers.  He only takes your staff when you shake your head.

Karlach and Tav seem about to argue, fight even, before the goblins can react, but you shake your head at them as well.  I’ll be fine, you think.  You wish you understood how to use the tadpoles to send messages, but maybe it went through anyway because they all holster their weapons.  Even Astarion, whom you’d hadn’t realised was willing to fight on your behalf as well, returns his daggers to their holsters.

“Just uh, don’t be too long, okay?”  You try not to think about the people the goblins are cooking outside, or that the butcher is in the same place you’re about to go.  You don’t look back at anyone as you’re taken away, hoping you didn’t just sentence yourself to death.

And it did feel like a death sentence walking past all the goblins.  But it was a little exciting, too.  The heavy beat of your heart couldn’t decide if it was from dread or a morbid interest in the creatures that barely came to your waist.  While still in sight of your companions nobody said a word to you.  You think the entire journey is going to be silent when a goblin shouts, “Hold up, eh?”

You and the guards halt, turning to the source of the voice.  Sazza.  She eyes you, but she isn’t what you’re wary of right now.  Beside her floats the scrying eye.

When the game says looking at it is like falling into an inky black pool, it’s not wrong.  You waver a moment as the hairs on the back of your neck raise, the feeling of being watched coming over you.  But it’s a different kind of watch than the goblins, more predatory.  If that was possible.

“What d’ya want?” one escort says.

“This thing flew right over when it saw this one,” Sazza explains with a wave at you.  “Guess it likes ya.  I should probably say thanks by the way, for takin’ the arrow.”

She doesn’t actually thank you.  

The scrying eye spins around you, floating up and down as if taking stock of you, kind of like when Gale first came out of the portal.  Was it interested in your coat, too?  Soon enough it stays in front of your face, examining your features.  You don’t have an option menu before you, and with a waver in your voice you say, “Uh, hello?”

The eye vibrates, or shakes, or maybe it shivers.  

“S’weird,” Sazza says, watching the eye.  Nobody can disagree with that.

“C’mon,” your other escort says.  “Don’t care if that things watchin’, gotta get the prisoner downstairs.”

They begin to lead you towards the worg pens and the eye follows you.  The only reason it leaves your side it when the door to the pens slams shut before it can get inside.

Taglist:

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[baldurs-gape]

Just Another Day

Holding the camp at arm's length was just an Astarion thing. While he was better at letting the others closer, had helped them understand his quirks, it was still painful when he receded back into the shadows of harsh quips and well aimed barbs. When he got like that the rest of the camp quickly learned to leave him alone. Whatever it was that got him in a spiral usually cleared up after a day or two. The only one who didn't pay much heed to Astarion's moods was Gale. Whether it was metaphorical rain or shine in that tent, he strode in there with utmost confidence. Usually, his presence seemed to work wonders on Astarion's moods so nobody discouraged him from continuing.

Another such mood swing was coming. The sneering got worse, Astarion scoffed at the smallest of things and advocated for more murder than usual.

"All I'm say is, we leave the wretches to their own fate. After all, if we die helping them, who is going to destroy Baldur's Gate's ruling class? We need to save ourselves for that."

As usual, he went ignored. But that didn't stop the near enough litany of complaints.

"Couldn't you have moved a bit faster? I thought githyanki were meant to be warriors. I shouldn't have to clean up the mess you make."

"No, I was absolutely aware of the adept casting the spell from behind me. You singed my favourite clothes and my hair! Do you know how inconvenient that is?"

"Your brain matter was probably the material converted to give you horns. I don't see how else you could have been so stupid."

It got worse and worse. Everyone got a tongue lashing, even if it was for something trivial like washing at an inconvenient time. They let Astarion just get on with things, avoided him and his ire. Things only came to a head when, after Astarion refused to leave his tent, Gale wandered in. Though tents weren't the most private of places, usually conversations within were respectfully ignored. But the whole camp heard Astarion's outburst.

"If you're so damn hungry, just go and eat Wyll's shoes! And maybe floss with the laces because you have bullshit getting stuck between your teeth!"

Storming out of the tent, Gale had half a mind to throw a boot back at Astarion. However, he was better than that. He had more control.

"Oh blow me," he growled under his breath.

"Blow your orb yourself, you coward!" Astarion's words rang sharp and clear through the camp and everyone froze. The only sound was the rustle of fabric as he tied the flaps of his tent shut.

At least he was quiet after that. Mumbles of "murder is wrong, staking your boyfriend is rude" from Gale were met with huffs of laughter. They all knew Astarion could be a little too dramatic at times, this was just a bit more excessive than usual.

In the morning the tent flap stayed shut. It was a small bit of relief even if the odd guilty glance was shot in its direction. Something was amiss but getting through to Astarion was nigh on impossible. The following day a small party was heading out and Astarion's help would have been much appreciated.

"Not today," his voice replied through the still shut tent. "I don't wish to become another 'accidental' death. Your hand might slip or you might just not be fast enough. What a tragedy, only the good die young, he'll be sorely missed. Then I'll be nothing but a distant memory that's best left forgotten. So no, thank you, I think I'll pass."

Adventuring without him went absolutely fine, not a single fight was had. Returning to camp, the group had a merry time. It was only next morning that Karlach cast Astarion's tent a sad glance.

"He hasn't been out since your argmuent. Not even to bask in the rising sun's glow."

Gale sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why he had to go falling in love with someone as impossible as Astarion was beyond him. But there he was. He eyed Karlach who offered a smile and half a shrug.

"Maybe he's just hangry. I know I would be, if I went so long without eating."

"I'll take him something."

Despite Gale's best intentions, Wyll had beaten him to it. He dragged the deer back to camp before hanging it up with Halsin's help to drain the blood into a bucket. Scooping some into a goblet, he approached the tent.

"We thought you might like something to drink," he said. There was no reply. "Seriously, Astarion, whatever it is that's got you like this, we can help. But you have to let us."

"Maybe the goblet is laced with garlic? Or dead man's blood? That's the only kind of help you seem capable of."

"Say what you like, but at least we're trying. Which is more than can be said about you," Wyll grumbled. He set the blood down in front of the tent flap and walked away.

It was still there the next morning, cold, congealed and drying. Gale frowned as he moved it out of his way. This whole thing was just getting ridiculous. Close to a week, Astarion had been in a funk. Leaving him alone hadn't seemed to solve the matter so it was time to get some answers.

"May I come in?"

Bitter resignation laced Astarion's voice. "Does my reply have any influence on your actions?" Before Gale could reply, Astarion let out a sad laugh. "You might as well come on in, I'll play along with your charade."

An invitation was an invitation and Gale decided to accept it. He undid the ties of the tent and stepped into the darkness. Eyes taking a moment to adjust, Gale peered around. The whole tent was a mess. Or, rather, at first glance it was a mess. But as he looked, a pattern of sorts began to emerge. The piles weren't random, clothes weren't strewn around. If Gale wasn't careful, he would trip over something. Either end of the tent held a bundle and he had no idea which one was Astarion. Squinting between the two, Gale opted not to move in case he started in the wrong direction and had to backtrack over the obstacle course.

"Astarion?" Nothing. Neither pile moved. Gale bit his tongue to hold back his frustration. "What's going on?" Still nothing. If Gale hadn't know Astarion was in there, he would have assumed the tent was empty. Patience wearing thin, he tried again. "Is this some stupid game you're playing? Because I'm not going to go along with that. So either behave like the adult you are, or I am leaving."

Finally one of the piles moved and Astarion's head popped up. Even in the half-light his eyes looked large, face drawn and exhausted as though he'd been on high alert for days on end without reprieve.

"Are you here to hurt me?"

"What kind of asinine-?! No! Absolutely not!" Aghast, Gale wasn't certain whether he wanted to get closer to Astarion or further away. "Light of my night, why would you ask that?"

No answer was forthcoming. No quip, no denial, no clarification. Instead, Astarion stared at him with about as much trust as a deer that had caught the scent of a predator.

"I just want you to drink."

"But you know your blood hurts."

"I never said to drink from me! You impossible man. I'm coming over and feel free to laugh when I topple over one of your traps." Because that's what they were. Traps and distractions. Picking his way over there, Gale plopped down and opened up his arms in invitation. The hesitation Astarion showed was hurtful, that was no lie. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to understand."

Under the bulk of clothes, armour and throws, it was almost like Astarion deflated. But he still didn't seek comfort in Gale's arms. They sat, in silence for a while.

"Today's my turning day," Astarion finally bit out.

"Shit. Is that like a birthday? I didn't think you'd celebrate such a day. But if I'd known, we'd have thrown you a party like we did for Wyll's birthday."

"I don't know when my birthday is." The words were quiet, hesitant. Almost like Astarion was talking about some forbidden topic that he was terrified of being overheard. "But Cazador wouldn't let me forget the day he claimed me."

Wouldn't let him forget...what Gale knew of Cazador, it was highly unlikely that he threw a party. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to slot together but the picture wasn't quite clear just yet.

"Would you have rather it was forgotten?"

A soft 'mhm' was the only reply. Silence stretched between them and Gale itched to know more. Thankfully, he was a stubborn bastard and for once he held out longer than Astarion.

"I'd get sent out with specific instructions on what he wanted me to bring home. I always failed, got punished." As he spoke, Astarion's eyes stared off into the distance, mentally miles away. "Then came the poisoned rats. The chalices of burning blood. Said it was all to soften me up for the day he most regretted in his life. Turning me."

Unable to help himself, Gale reached out, desperate to touch and reassure. A dam was broken and Astarion crumpled into the hand, near enough falling against Gale's chest as he sought comfort and reassurance that he'd denied himself for so long.

"On the day, he'd- he'd-" the words weren't coming and Gale gently shushed him.

"It's okay. He isn't here. He can't hurt you. Nobody's going to hurt you. Not today, not any day."

"Said it was my fault." Astarion didn't have tears to shed anymore, those had dried up a century ago. Crying wasn't a luxury he could afford himself but his breath still hitched on a sob. "I brought it on myself."

Ever so gently, Gale began running a hand through Astarion's hair. It was flat, dusty and greasy. He didn't care though. Everything was making sense at last. Refusals to join, to drink, to even leave his tent, Gale didn't have to be the genius he was to figure it all out. Leaning down, he buried his nose in Astarion's hair and breathed deeply.

"You didn't deserve it. Any of it." Mind made up, he pressed a kiss to Astarion's head. "You've must be exhausted after all this worry. Trust me to keep you safe?"

"But I told you to blow yourself sky high."

"You're not the first, nor will you be the last. Let me love you and protect you. Rest. Tomorrow we can think about getting you a drink that you're comfortable with. Okay?"

There was a little too much obedient pacifying in Astarion's placid "okay" but Gale couldn't do much about it. Maybe Karlach was right, after a fuller stomach the world might not look so ready to end for Astarion. But until then, Gale would sit with him, cast a ward of protection and stay awake for the whole night if it meant Astarion could have a bit of rest. Waving a hand and murmuring the spell, Gale let a soft shimmering blue of protection settle around the tent. He'd keep it there though until Astarion was ready to face the world again.

And maybe, while he waited, Gale was plotting to find a day for Astarion's birthday. They would make new memories and celebrate his existence. It wouldn't overwrite the memories of suffering, but Gale hoped it would give him new ones to remember and enjoy.

[electricaquarius]

Broken Glasses

Alright, another BG3 fanfic that hit me at 4am and wouldn't let me rest until it was written. This is again my self insert Tav, Joanna. She wears glasses, like me, and gets them broken. This has much more overt Gale/Tav although nothing spicy. It also has a ton of Astarion and Gale interaction because making Gale mad gives me such joy honestly.

'... Shit. Oh, this isn't good.' Squinting as best she could, Joanna held up her glasses, snapped clean in half at the nose bridge and with a giant scratch stretching the length of the left lens. A mistimed manoeuvre had a goblin's fist meeting her jaw. Nothing was broken although she was sore and a little dazed. Her attention, however, was entirely on her broken glasses which Gale also noticed after a moment. 

'Ah. I'm guessing those were more of a functional piece than a fashion statement, correct?' 

'Yeah, I really cannot see without them, like...' Joanna held her hand about an inch from her face. 'That's how far I can see before everything gets blurry,' She shook her head. 'What do we do now?'

Gale helped her up and thought for a moment. 'I should have something that will have these brand new, but that would be back at camp. I could accompany you?' The thought of having her alone was indeed one that gave him great pleasure but something that he decided shouldn't be dwelled upon. It was far, far too early for any overt flirtation, and besides the point, she was vulnerable right now. So, of course while he was considering the best course of action, Karlach bounded over in her typical way.

'Hey soldier, what's up? We need to get moving!' She clapped Joanna on the back and then realised something was missing. 'Gotten rid of the glasses? Shame, they looked cute on you.' 

'I wish I'd just taken them off, but they're totally broken. Look.' Joanna produced them once more and sighed in irritation. 'Gale was saying he'd be able to fix them back at camp, but... well, I'll need someone to be my eyes until we get there. I'm practically blind without them.'

'Ah shit, bad luck. No worries, I can get you back quick.' Karlach without hesitation picked up Joanna and positioned her over her shoulder. Gale counted his blessings that neither could see his expression as he knew it'd be a picture. 

Joanna gave a yelp of surprise mixed with a little delight and clung on for dear life. 'A-are you sure this is alright? I won't be too heavy for you to carry all the way back? I can walk just fine, really.'

'Nah, you're good up there. This'll be quicker, too. Karlach gave her a pat on the back then turned in Astarion's direction. 'OI FANGS! WE'RE GOING BACK TO CAMP!'

Astarion froze at the sudden noise, completely ruining any attempt at stealth he had while picking through the remains of the ruined village. Not that there was much need to sneak around when the place was completely abandoned, but one could never be too sure who, or what, was lurking. 

Taking his time, he sidled up to Gale sensing there was an interesting morsel of gossip considering their darling leader was now being carried off by Karlach. 'So, what's the reason behind our sudden retreat? Karlach overcome with passion for our dearest Joanna?'

Gale could tell he was being toyed with as it certainly wasn't the first time, but he couldn't help taking the bait. 'Goblin knocked off her glasses, you know how bad her eyes are. We need to go back, and I'll fix them.'

'Oh, and I bet you were just a shade too late, weren't you, Mr. Of Waterdeep?' Astarion laughed. 'I can see it now, "Oh don't worry my dearest Joanna, I'll hold your hand! I'll lead you through this treacherous forest and protect you from whatever might harm you!' He brought the back of his hand to his forehead in a practised swoon. 

'Would you shut up? I really don't know where you get these ideas about me.' Gale muttered darkly, heat rising in his cheeks. 'Did you find anything useful while you were sneaking around at least?'

Astarion shrugged. 'Some lockpicks, a mostly unbloodied pair of boots, nothing special.' There was a pause as they walked in silence, watching Karlach carry Joanna ahead of them by a few paces. There was a peal of laughter and Gale grew visibly tenser, hands balled into fists. Astarion gave a small tut of annoyance. 'You academics are all the same, you know. Spend forever and a day fantasizing about what you would say, how you'd wow them, but you never *do* a damn thing.'

'Is there any particular reason you take joy from irritating me? I don't need your approval for what actions I choose to take.' He really was close to breaking point and he knew it. In the short time they'd known each other Astarion knew exactly what to say to get under his skin, and worse. 

'Honestly, it's the most entertainment I can get around here. You're all so disgustingly dedicated to doing 'the right thing' that pushing your buttons is the easiest way to while away an evening. Don't get me wrong, you're not special, you just always rise to my bait.' There was a smirk spreading across Astarion's face and Gale could hear it in his voice, didn't even need to look at him to confirm it. It was funny, really, Gale had never considered himself easy to rile in life before this tadpole business. Still, something had changed since the nautiloid had scooped them up, and he didn't even need to name it. 

Gale had resigned himself to silence as the safest course of action when Astarion opened his mouth again. 'I don't see what your big issue is. If she felt the same way about me as she clearly does about you then I'd have had her already.' Completely false, of course but it had the desired effect. Gale stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Astarion. 

'One more word from you, a single breath more and I swear I'll unmake you right here. Tell them you got carried off by a rogue ogre and it left you in a state even a revival scroll won't fix.' His voice was low and grave, mostly to stay out earshot of the two women ahead. 

'Oh Gale, I knew you really loved me!' Astarion batted his eyelashes. 'You mistake my intentions, wizard. I'm just utterly sick to death and unlife of your pining act. Quite frankly, for a man your age it's pathetic.' Astarion turned on his heel and they both continued to walk. 

Camp wasn't far from that point and they arrived to see Joanna placed by the fireside catching up with everyone about her eyeglasses situation. She greeted Astarion and Gale with a smile, although she had to squint to figure out which blurry shape belonged to who. Gale gave her a nod and immediately set about finding the scroll he needed. He was glad of a moment away, it allowed him to clear his mind from the earlier... unpleasantness. He tried to brush away Astarion's words entirely, but they clung to him like a particularly stubborn barnacle. Was Astarion interested in Joanna, or was that a fabrication just to rile him? He hated feeling like he was being forced into some kind of love confession, it just simply wouldn't do. Gale himself didn't even know if that's how he felt about Joanna, and that was all the more reason to be cautious. 

Finding the scroll he placed her glasses in front of him and, with a flash of light, they were in one piece again. He emerged from his tent to hear the tail end of a conversation. 

'... and you're sure I wasn't too heavy? I really don't want to have hurt your back.' Joanna was still quite giddy from having been picked up and carried for the first time since she was a young girl.

'You worry too much, soldier.' Karlach rolled her shoulders and plopped herself down next to Joanna. 'All the gear I carry around for you lot daily and you're only now worried about my back? I'm made of stronger stuff than you'd know.' She flexed theatrically and then laughed to herself. 

Gale cleared his throat to make himself known and Joanna turned her head, once again screwing up her face in a squint. 'Oh! Gale, did you fix them already?' 

He knelt next to her and produced the glasses, round lenses with a gold frame that suited her perfectly. 'I did indeed, they should be exactly how they were before their unfortunate tumble.' Joanna had her hand held out but Astarion's earlier teasing had it's effect on him and he was feeling far bolder than he usually would. Leaning forward, he placed the glasses on her face himself, lingering for just a moment to appreciate being so close to her and watching a faint pink blush spread across her cheeks.

'So? Can you see alright?' He didn't want to pull away at all, but to suddenly force her into such an intimate situation just because of Astarion's teasing wasn't fair at all on her. 

'It's perfect, thank you Gale.' She smiled, heart still thundering in her ears from how close he'd gotten. 'You really saved me today.'

Saved her, hm? Yes, Gale decided. He liked the sound of that a lot.