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bg-brainrot · 1 year ago

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Of Bets, Bluffs, and Briefs

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: It's another night at the Elfsong for your group of intrepid adventures. After a hard day of fighting evil, you find a way to sit down, unwind, and undress through a game of strip poker.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Strip Poker, Nudity, Alcohol, Innuendos, act 3 unascended Astarion

Word count: ~3.2k

Partly inspired by this amazing piece of fanart from @krembruleed, ty to @thedomesticanthropologist for putting it on my feed!

It's hard work being a hero. Though you suppose one could hardly tell by the current state of your group.

What you had originally thought would be a harmless game of cards– a way to destress with your companions after yet another life-threatening situation– had turned into quite a different type of danger. Right now, you are perilously close to losing your last two items of clothing in a high stakes, winner take all, game of strip poker.

It had begun innocently enough.

"Soldier, what do you think?" Karlach had asked you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You were all sitting together playing a game of cards, drinks in hand, crowded around a circular table in your room at the Elfsong.

You'd lifted your eyes from your hand to look at her, directly on your right, and asked, "About what?"

"About raising the stakes a bit," she'd responded with a little eyebrow wiggle.

In your defense, your hand was fantastic. Your mind was mired in all of the possibilities it could afford you. That being said, maybe you should have gotten clarification before agreeing. "That sounds like a great idea, Karlach."

So now here you are, wearing only a pair of underpants and socks, regretting the fact that a single good hand led you to this sorry state of undress. You’re no stranger to being naked, but something about being half-naked, elbow to elbow with your friends, with nothing but a few flimsy cards between you? Well, you are starting to feel a touch exposed.

The rest of your team doesn't seem to be faring much better: Wyll is down to his white briefs; Karlach has a pair of bracers and her underpants left; Lae'zel is down to just a headband she'd nearly forgotten about; Shadowheart has both a bra and underwear left; Gale is wearing his purple underpants and an amulet; Halsin is already out of the game, completely nude, sitting at the table and simply appreciating the freedom of it all. You rather suspect he wasn’t trying as hard as the rest of you to keep clothed.

There is, however, one among your crew who is nearly no worse for wear, save a pair of missing boots and a missing cape. Astarion, with all of the pride of someone who has had four winning hands in a row, smiles wickedly at the group over his latest hand of cards.

“Come on, Astarion,” Karlach whines, leaning forward on the table. “You cannot possibly have another flush or I am calling bullshit.”

“My dearest Karlach,” he starts, voice coated in only the sweetest of honey. “You wound me. I am simply playing with the hands that I’ve been dealt, same as the rest of you.”

“And your hands just happen to include a full house or two?” Shadowheart questions, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him as she crosses her bare legs.

Astarion’s fanged grin grows. “Maybe I’m just lucky?”

You have begun to strongly suspect foul play as well, given the vampire’s downright unbelievable ‘luck’ so far. “Astarion, if you are cheating, I will be incredibly cross with you,” you say as a way of warning. He doesn’t need to strip in front of the group if he doesn’t want to, of course, and he could just as easily have avoided the game altogether. No, he seems to have another motive behind his near-perfect playing.

“My darling!” he exclaims, placing a single pale hand on his chest. “The rest of these jealous dimwits I expect, but you?” He makes an exaggerated show of wiping away a fake tear with one of Gale’s many forfeited articles of clothing.

“Excuse you!” Gale cuts in. “You may have won the hand, but I expect my robe to be in perfect condition once you return it to me.”

“I thought we were playing for keeps?” you ask, turning to Karlach. Or was this not as high stakes as you’d expected?

“Of course we are!” the tiefling answers with gusto. “Otherwise where’s the fun! The fear! The excitement!” She punctuates each statement by pounding on the table, nearly jostling everyone’s flagons onto the floor.

The point was made though and you simply hear a resigned sigh from the wizard. “I cannot lose my last pair of enchanted underwear,” he grumbles.

“Then maybe you ought to try winning,” Astarion retorts, the gleeful look never leaving his face.

You take a sip from your drink, surveying the situation. You’re playing 5-card draw, a simple version of poker, rife with opportunity for Astarion to cheat. But why cheat? It’s a game for fun, despite the silly fear it’s clearly instilled in you all. And it’s not as if he’s wearing his best gear or outfit.

You take a look at your hand, another dud– no opportunities for a straight, no pairs for a full house. Your best bet is to draw and hope for a pair, but you suspect that won’t nearly be enough to beat whatever Astarion is crooning over. With only a pair of socks and underpants to your name, you know when you’ve lost. So you know it’s time to do what you do best. “Well then,” you say, placing your cards face down on the table and leaning back. “What happens if I fold?”

“Fold?” Lae’zel asks with a glare. “Would you truly abandon your efforts this deep into the battle?”

Little does she know that you plan on losing the battle to win the war. “Yes,” you respond easily. “What does that do?”

Karlach’s face scrunches up as she considers the possibilities. No one has tried to back out yet, but surely, you need some kind of punishment for trying to avoid the ‘strip’ part of strip poker.

“How about you buy the next round?” Wyll offers, ever the gentleman. His eyes are carefully trained on yours, and you’re not sure if the blush that colors his cheeks is from the drinks he’s had or the proximity of your bare chest.

“Hells no!” Karlach answers immediately. “That’s getting off too easy– we need actual consequences here.”

Astarion, to your immense suspicion, has yet to say anything. When you look over to him, he’s inspecting you with narrowed eyes, hands folded over his facedown cards. The corner of his lip lifts as you make eye contact with him, and he asks, “What’s the matter, love? Running away from me, are you?”

It’s as you thought. He doesn’t want to strip everyone down– he wants to strip you down. “Why would you think that?” you counter, crossing your arms in challenge. “Are you so certain you’ll win again?”

“I’ve got it!” Karlach exclaims. “You need to be the one to strip someone else down. And you’ve got to go real slow.”

You’d already been staring at Astarion’s face when Karlach made the declaration, so you immediately clock the slight bit of annoyance that furrows his brow. Everyone save Lae’zel and him was down to their underwear, so it was easy enough to imagine how that particular exercise would go.

Karlach, you’re a genius, you think. Aloud, you simply say, “Sounds fair to me.”

“Ridiculous,” Astarion mutters. You strongly suspect he would rather you reserve any undressing for him, but you’ve already folded and he’s likely already cheated his hand.

Everyone completes their draws, hands are placed face up on the table, and Astarion’s ludicrous bout of good luck is staring at you all once more– this time in the form of a straight flush.

Lae’zel slams her hands on the table. “You swindler,” she growls, pointing at Astarion with an accusatory finger.

The vampire raises his hands in defense, leaning away from the table. “I am nothing of the sort!” He does shoot you a wary look before clearing his throat. “And what of our lovely leader?”

It’s time for your punishment. “Do I get to pick, Karlach?” you ask, looking between your companions in turn.

“Of course not!” she says, clapping you on the back. “Let’s draw cards for the privilege of your nimble fingers, shall we?”

Everyone agrees easily enough, and it’s not long before they’re all pulling from the stack, the highest card to be the ‘victor.’ Lae’zel draws a queen, Karlach an eight, Gale a four, Wyll a jack, and Shadowheart an ace.

You turn to the cleric, who seems entirely unaffected by the whole ordeal. “Would you prefer the top or bottom?” she asks you, with a slight purse to her lips.

Despite his earlier misgivings, Astarion’s quick with a sultry sounding retort, “Oh I think we both know which you prefer, darling?” Karlach can’t help the snort that escapes her any more than Gale can hide the startled cough.

You ignore him and the rest of your companions, getting up and walking to where Shadowheart is seated. “Let’s just do the top,” you say, moving her hair out of the way.

“Very well,” she responds, sitting up a bit straighter for you. “But be quick about it.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Karlach immediately interrupts. “Be as slow as possible, soldier. Or you’ll have to do it again!”

“Don’t worry, love! You know exactly how slow to go,” Astarion quips, looking at you through his lashes.

You ignore his quip. To appease Karlach, you make a show of it: delicately removing each strap, undoing the back latch. All the while, you hold eye contact with your vampiric lover, as if taunting him, saying ‘this is what you get for cheating.’ He watches, lips making a hard, annoyed line. Shadowheart’s top removed, you return to your seat.

Once everyone else has relinquished their articles of clothing, the game is down to you, Karlach, Shadowheart, Gale, and, of course, Astarion.

Halsin places an arm around an embarrassed Wyll’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, my friend. Now you are free of any constraints, allowed to observe and appreciate the game as one would the natural world.”

“Sounds lovely, Halsin,” he answers, ducking his head a bit. “I think.”

Lae’zel, for her part, seems perfectly fine to have lost the headband, not any more naked than she was before. “Tchk, hurry and finish the game. Why is everyone in Faerun so interested in the nude form?” It’s a fair question, but none of you answer it as another set of hands is dealt.

You observe Astarion the entire time, noting every subtle movement of his hands, watching as you try to pin down an extra card or a slip of his sleeve. But he’s ready for this, looking at you as he inspects each new card. “So, darling,” he drawls. “Are you planning on folding again?”

“That depends,” you reply, looking at your cards quickly. Nothing too impressive, but better than the last hand. “Are you planning on cheating again?”

“Gods above,” he mutters, fanning himself with his cards. “My poor, undead heart can’t take much more of these accusations.” Your eyes catch a slight jerk of his hand, and you know what you must do.

“I’d like to fold again,” you say, looking back to the tiefling woman on your right.

“Alright, soldier,” she agrees with a snicker. The glimmer in her eyes is enough to show that she knows you’re up to something.

“May I fold too?” Gale grumbles, now truly down to his last magical pair of underpants.

Karlach thinks about it for a moment, realizing the flaw in her plan. “No,” she finally states. “Only one person per round.”

Everyone finishes drawing and plays their hands. Unlike last time, everyone turns to Gale, who has won with a pair of tens. “I won?” he asks, turning toward Astarion, whose expression is quite blank. His hand had been miserable, as if he’d drawn for worse cards– which you suspect he might have.

“Let’s see who I shall strip then,” you say, laying out the stack for the remaining three. You already know who will emerge victorious, sure that there’s an ace up his sleeve at this very moment. Shadowheart draws a seven, Karlach a ten, and, low and behold, Astarion draws an ace.

“Aren’t I the luckiest vampire in Baldur’s Gate?” he says, smiling up at you as you walk around the table to him. “What will you be taking?”

You tilt your head at him, debating the possibilities. But you start simple, slowly, carefully removing the blouse from his head. The entire time, you smile with satisfaction. Because you know you’ve won.

Shadowheart and Karlach now sit there, naked as the day they entered this realm of existence. The tiefling gives you another clap on the back with a laugh, as she whispers loudly at you, “Avenge me, soldier!”

And avenge you will.

You fold another four times. Each time, Astarion somehow, miraculously, loses. And each time he sighs deeply, dramatically as you approach him to peel off yet another piece of clothing.

The second time, he whispers, “You cheeky thing, how could you?

On the third time, he whispers, “Don’t you want me to win?”

On the fourth time, he whispers, “Fine, but don’t think you’ll get out of this.”

That’s how he loses his greaves, his pants, his socks, and a necklace, leaving him in only his bright blue briefs.

When you go to fold for a fifth time, ready to remove Astarion from the game once and for all, the man sighs before even viewing his cards and says, “I fold.”

You look at Karlach, as if she might be able to save you, but she only shrugs at you. Her eyes seem to say, ‘It’s in the rules now!’

And you suppose it is. So you and Gale each discard, draw, and play your hands. Your three of a kind beats his pair, and Astarion reluctantly strips the wizard of his last, purple pair of enchanted briefs.

I’ll return it to him after the game, you think, as Astarion deposits the pair in front of you with a smirk.

“I’m a few articles of clothing poorer, but I do believe I did rather well, didn’t I?” Gale says, sitting back down, wincing slightly as his bare cheeks make contact with the wooden chair.

“As well as you can when that one cheats,” Shadowheart says, gesturing toward Astarion with her glass of wine.

“I am innocent until proven guilty,” Astarion replies, sitting back down in his seat, ready for the final showdown.

Now it’s just you and Astarion facing off. You, with a pair of underwear and socks. Him, reduced to his underpants.

“Oh, darling,” he says, leaning back enough that his entire bare torso is on full display. “Do you really think you’ll be able to defeat me in a game like this?”

“I think I like my odds,” you say, leaning back in much the same way. “Karlach, would you do us the honor of dealing?”

“My pleasure,” she responds, cards shooting out of her hands at an alarming speed.

Everyone watches on bated breath as you both draw your hands, look over them silently. You really do like your odds now. Cheating will prove hard for Astarion to do without sleeves to hide cards, and everyone is watching him carefully, waiting to catch the pilferer in the act.

Good, you think, slipping a few cards out from under the table. Two can play at this game, and only one of us waited until the right moment to cheat.

You deposit your extra cards subtly back on the discard pile when no one is looking, and fan your remaining hand out– what stares back at you is an impeccable, unbelievable royal flush. You know you’re going to win, there’s no doubt about it, so you allow yourself a little taunt. “Now that you’re about to lose, my love… whatever compelled you to cheat? What do you gain out of this?”

Astarion looks back at you, eyes straining around the edges as he debates what to discard. “Not that I cheated,” he starts, with a smile that comes out more of a grimace. “But I thought it might be nice to rightfully win one of your undergarments. And perhaps to keep it out of the hands of these lecherous fools.” He gives everyone else at the table a glare in turn before discarding and drawing back up.

Oh, you think. That’s sweet, in a weird, slightly concerning way. Much like the man who now turns back to you, a wide, unabashed smile on his pale face. “I see,” is all that you say in response. You look down at the royal flush in your hand. You can’t lose with this, and you can’t very well try to cheat again when you’re both done drawing.

You turn to Karlach. “Can I still fold?”

“What!?” she cries, looking at you like you’re insane. “Why would you do that, soldier? You’ve nearly got ‘im!”

“Darling,” the man calls from across the table. You look into his fierce, red eyes, narrowed with determination. “Don’t you dare lose to me on purpose. Especially when I know that you’ve beaten me at my own game.”

The smirk he gives you is all the encouragement you need. “Fine,” you say, laying out your preposterous, beautiful hand. Everyone at the table gasps, save Astarion. He only looks at you warmly before laying out his sad, single pair of nines.

“Well played,” he says, standing up. A second later, his blue underwear is off, like a flag of surrender. In all of his naked glory, he walks around the table, places his briefs in front of you, and smiles. “I’ll get you next time, my sweet.”

You look up at him, aware that all of your companions are watching the exchange with rapt attention, but also finding that you can’t bring yourself to care. “You can have me now, if you’d like.”

“Lady of the Moon save me… please control yourselves,” Shadowheart says, downing the rest of her wine glass. She stands up, ignoring the dizzying display of love next to her. “That’s enough of that game, wouldn’t you all say?”

“Yes, why don’t we find something a bit… warmer to play?” Wyll suggests, standing up after Shadowheart. Halsin, Lae’zel and Gale follow, leaving you, Karlach, and Astarion behind.

The tiefling usually knows when to leave the two of you to your own devices, but can’t resist one last comment. “Thanks for avenging me, soldier,” she says, wrapping you in a warm, bare bear hug. At Astarion’s low, annoyed groan, she releases you, laughing. “Join us again once you’re done doing whatever weird flirting you get up to!”

She leaves the two you be, and you turn toward Astarion. “So,” you say, scratching the back of your head ruefully. “Was that too much?”

He shakes his head at you, white curls bouncing lightly. “No, I’d rather say I deserved it a bit– But only a bit.”

You laugh at the admission and hold out a hand for Astarion to bring out of your chair. He takes it, pulling you up and into his arms. Your bare chests press together a moment, and the chill of his skin on yours leaves goosebumps all along your arms. “Thank you,” you murmur, realizing that your faces are too close, skin too exposed.

Astarion doesn’t seem to mind, leaning a bit further into you. “You’re quite welcome, my dear.” He drops his voice to a whisper, meant only for your ears. “What do you say we finish our ‘weird flirting’ before we rejoin the group?”

“Only if you promise to keep the sleight of hand to a minimum in our next game,” you whisper, looking between his red eyes.

He sighs, his cool breath tickling your face. “Very well.”

“And next time, just ask me for the underpants,” you grumble, before finally pressing your lips into his.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion fanfiction #tadfools tomfoolery

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chaoticbardlady99 · 1 year ago

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Lethal Woman- Chapter 7 (Astarion x GN! Reader) MDNI 18+ Only

Synopsis- You and your rag tag team of heroes barely escaped the Githyanki with your lives. You and Astarion grow closer as you learn about each other’s traumas and have a heartfelt conversation about what you both want out of this situation.

CW: Smut, mentions of violence, mentions of SA, mentions of trauma

I put a start and stop for the smut just in case anyone does not want to read it 😀 thank you for reading! I have had posting paralysis and task paralysis for a week so this has been completed for a hot minute now lmao

Chapter Eight

You cough and sputter as you slowly begin to come back to life- your head is throbbing and you hear a familiar voice frantically screaming nearby. The iron, sweet smell of blood hits your nose- Astarion.

It slowly comes back to you now. You had all been running out of the crèche- you, Lae’zel, Astarion, and Karlach- trying to escape the murderous Githyanki (you did demolish their inquisitor so you understand- still sucks though). You had split off from the group with the Blood of Lathander so that they could get to safety faster while you used the weapon to destroy the Monastery and keep the Gith off your tails. You remember the way the magic had moved through the Mace and the blast shaking the ground- the monastery collapsing in on itself.

You had been running away- nearly to safety when the floor beneath your feet gave way. You had felt your heart stop in your chest as you felt gravity begin to pull you down, then something hits you- hard- and you go flying to a more stable part of the floor. Strong, hands wrapped around your arm, pulling you upright, and dragging you behind them in the growing darkness- you barely make out Astarion in the dust. Right before you were going to exit the building- it collapsed in on the two of you- Astarion was on top of you within seconds to shield you from the rocks, then you don’t remember much else.

His blood is in the air- not a lot, but more than you are comfortable with. You sit upright too fast- the world is spinning, but you need to get to him.

Astarion is not that far ahead of you. You survey the room- grateful you were born with Darkvision- and recognize that you are stuck pretty tightly up against the wall where you had found the old rusty Mace. The ceiling had caved in, but the rubble that had fallen first had allowed a tight little room to form- the wall showing the front of the monastery has air coming through it, but it’s pitch black and there is evidently no way out. You have both been buried alive.

Soldier!!!!!! Soldier- I need you to respond. You feel Karlach desperation, Where the fuck are you?

We’re in here! You show her the room and you feel her relief and instant recognition of the area, go get Gale and see if he can’t shrink the rocks down. Wyll should have some smoke powder bombs and please ask Shadowheart how to cast calm for me.

You can feel Karlach befuddlement at the request, Why do you need to cast calm?

Astarion’s feral terrified screams echo through both of your heads as it starts up again. Astarion is slamming his hands against the rocks, cutting into his palms and belligerently begging to be let out.

Got it, Soldier. Karlach’s sadness and worry mirrors your own- not as intense, but it’s there.

Karlach had grown rather fond of Astarion too- they were quick to become friends. Karlach cares for Astarion and you see that in flashes- but you see how her feelings change towards him as Astarion becomes closer with you. She sees ‘undying adoration’ for you in his eyes- you told her there’s no way. You had slept together two weeks ago.

The night after he had asked to meet you again, you agreed, but when you went, he wasn’t present at all. It felt forced and mechanical so you stopped him. Astarion became defensive and has been basically avoiding you ever since.

“Give him a minute, Soldier,” she had reassured you, “maybe you were just that brilliant in bed and he’s resisting the urge to take you all the time.”

“I seriously doubt that, but thanks.”

Another blood curdling scream and Astarion slamming himself against the rocks breaks you from your thoughts.

Tell her I’m having a panic attack. I don’t want Astarion to feel uncomfortable around everyone when we get back.

Roger that.

After Karlach is no longer communicating with you- you cast Faerie Light- illuminating the room in a soft, relaxing glow. Astarion is staring at you- eyes wide with fear and his hands dripping in blood. You slowly walk towards him and he slams himself back against the wall and bares his fangs at you.

You freeze- something in you is saying not to move because that could very well be the end of your life. You don’t think it would be intentional on his part, but it certainly wouldn’t be a fun thing to explain to the group as he pays 200 gold to Withers.

You gently set the light down and take two steps back- giving him more space. You watch as he begins to relax a bit more- his eyes seem more focused. As he begins to relax, he begins to shake and slowly drops to his knees- curling his arms around himself and hiding his face.

The room is not very big- you realize. It’s maybe only the size of a small tent really, but Astarion has told you about Cazador burying him and then being stuck down there for a year. Sometimes Cazador would put him in his tomb for short stints of time. One of the first nights you had spent time together on this journey, Astarion had talked about how grateful he was to know he will never have to be back in his tomb again.

This space must be suffocating him.

You slowly walk towards him making a point of creating some sound for him to know you are coming over. Despite all of Dahlia’s torments, she had been unable to get rid of the parts of you that were reminiscent of your parents. Your father’s kindness and patience persisted; your mother’s brilliance and strong-will had only been hiding under the surface. You also think of Tessa- who gently healed you when she found you bleeding out in an alleyway. The way she had spoken to you- the way she used the Weave to gently bring the skin back together. You had never felt more cared for in your life- more seen.

What if that would help Astarion right now?

Astarion is shaking and sobbing silently- his hands are bleeding while he tries desperately to keep them still again. His nails are cracked, chipped, bloody, and raw.

You are going to kill Cazador Szarr if it’s the last thing you do- you are going to torment him until he feels as afraid as he has made Astarion feel for the last 200 years.

At one point in your life- you had wanted to be a healer. You find it ironic that you are an assassin instead and Astarion just so happens to need both.

You know basic healing magic- enough for this at the very least.

“Star,” your words are barely a whisper, “would it be okay if I healed your hands?”

You wait for what feels like an eternity and then he holds out one of his hands to you, the other one still wrapped around his legs.

You begin to work, slowly using the magic to stitch the wounds together like Tessa had shown you. You find yourself remembering your mother singing Drow lullabies to you in the Mine when you were afraid. You would do the same for her after she had spent countless hours pleasuring horrible men. You would sing the songs to her in Undercommon as she had taught you to.

Absentmindedly, you begin to sing a lullaby under your breath as your hands gently caress his wounds closed.

When I was only, only a boy,

I saw my mother cry.

You turn over his hand and press a soft kiss to the back of it when you are finished and then guide it back to his leg- like Tessa had done for you. You gently coax his other hand into yours and begin tracing the cuts, erasing the bruises, wiping away the blood.

The time had come to pay for her sins,

The price, my friend, was I.

You don’t notice how Astarion is staring at you- watching you with so much intensity and adoration. No one has ever touched him this softly, been so patient and understanding, or extinguished his anxiety like this before. Your voice is soft and sweet. He recognizes the language and the song- Sins of the Mother, one of the old Drow lullabies.

A nest of flowers covers the place,

Where in the ground I lie.

You survey the other hand- satisfied with your work, but begin tracing the lines of his hands.

Now I'm a pile of lonely old bones,

A thousand years gone by.

You are done tracing the lines of his hand by the time you finish the song and when you go to release it, he pulls you into him by the wrist- placing you on his lap. You are stiff because it wasn’t expected, but you caress his silvery blonde locks and let him put his ear to your chest.

“Sins of the Mother,” he whispers.

You hum in acknowledgment through pursed lips.

“It’s morbid, but it’s my favorite,” you admit, “Descent to Light is fine and all, but I stopped feeling inclined to sing it when my mother died.”

“Descent to Light is beautiful, but unrealistic,” Astarion regards you for a second before saying, “I think Sins of the Mother might be my favorite too.”

As long as you are the one singing it.

You don’t think he meant to share that thought with you, but you blush all the same.

You both sit there for what feels like seconds, but is probably more like 15 minutes just in silence. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and his around your torso. Your legs are entangled as you sit in his lap and you continue to play with his hair. Astarion sighs in pleasure every so often- inhaling deeply.

“I’m sor-,” he begins to say and you cut him off with a chaste kiss. Astarion looks at you with surprise- the look on your face tells him you are equally as shocked at your actions.

You had only slept together two weeks ago and HE HAS BEEN AVOIDING YOU SINCE! What are you doing!?

YOU PSYCHO! You think, mentally face palming, but you decide to just roll with it like you actually have some confidence.

“I don’t want to hear it- you have nothing and I mean nothing to be sorry for Star,” you say with intensity, looking directly at him, “Cazador did unspeakable, horrific things to you- I will help you make him pay and I will never, ever allow him to touch you, speak to you, or even perceive you without me by your side ready to help hold him down so you can destroy him- do you understand? I promise you- I will not rest until that man ceases to exist.”

Astarion is looking at you, tears streaming down his face. His expression is open and vulnerable- for the first time, you see all the pain that he has experienced over the last 200 years. You gently rub your thumbs along his cheekbones, wiping away the tears while fighting your own.

“He will never touch you again, Astarion,” you say with a promise of vengeance to come, a finality “I vow to destroy him before he’s even able to try..”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You and Astarion had been rescued hours earlier by Gale, Karlach, Lae’zel, and Wyll- all collectively throwing or destroying the rocks holding you both captive in the ruined monastery.

You are sitting by the fire- laughing with Karlach and Wyll while Astarion turns over everything you said to him in that hellish situation.

Astarion can feel the panic begin to bubble in his chest again when he thinks about when he realized you were both trapped. He was worried for himself, but he had been even more terrified for you. Astarion had only wanted to keep you from dying- not bury you alive with him. Then he spiraled.

Admittedly, he had almost lost all of his wits- barely grasping to the idea that you were there with him and he was not in his tomb- or the kennels. It didn’t matter though- Astarion had felt his brain snap into a billion pieces and he remembers watching himself snarl at you- afraid he might hurt you, but too terrified of the situation to care.

You had responded to his reaction- not in fear, but understanding. You went back a few steps until he had sat down- head between his legs and a sobbing mess.

You came to him- asked permission before you healed his hands and sung a lullaby. Held him while he sobbed and promised him that Cazador would never touch him again or at the very least, Cazador won’t survive very long if he tries. You were there for him without anything in return- Astarion had been avoiding you for the last two weeks because of how confusing his feelings towards you are now.

You sat together and talked around the campfire every night, but he knows you have noticed him slip his facade back on and he doesn’t know whether to take it back off or not.

Astarion wants to have sex with you again, but he also doesn’t want you to only see him as sex which is confusing because that was sort of the point of the plan. Astarion would provide you with irreplaceable pleasure and you would provide him with protection- good sex can be hard to find so that’s the most valuable thing he has to offer. Except he doesn’t want it to be transactional anymore, Astarion wants it to be a way he connects with you intimately- a way to worship you. Astarion makes himself ill with the thought- what the hells is happening to him!? He has only slept with you once!

He also isn’t entirely sure if that icky feeling will ever go away from him- despite how much he enjoys being intimate with you. It’s different with you and it feels more like how old writers describe the activity- a collision of two souls combining to feel like one. Then he remembers what Cazador has made him for- casual sex, prostitution. Astarion wonders if you feel the same and maybe that’s why he’s over here in front of his tent instead of next to you at the campfire- agonizing over wanting to be near you, but also too scared to know if you also see him the way Cazador does.

Today gave him a strong, happy feeling that you don’t and maybe there is some hope there. Maybe Astarion can have more out of this life than he thought he could.

Astarion is being pulled towards you, lost in your orbit, abandoning his book and his spot in front of his tent altogether. Astarion is hopelessly needy for your presence right now.

Suddenly, he’s awkwardly standing behind you looking at the seat next to you- unsure of how to ask if he can sit. Karlach finally pipes up- looking at him with amusement and holds up her bottle of alcohol.

“Hey Fangs!” She says loudly, “come to join the party?”

You whip around and look up at him- your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol and you pat the spot next to you. He can’t help but smile as he sits. Karlach wiggles her eyebrows at you and you throw a roll at her- she cackles as the roll hits her and immediately crisps.

“That’s just a waste of food, Soldier,” Karlach says with exaggeration and a victorious laugh, “GALE! Our fearless leader is ruining your food!”

A distant scream is heard and gets louder as Gale comes storming over, exasperated, “EXCUSE ME!?”

You feign distress, “I know- how thoughtless of me! I just wanted to toast a nice roll to go with my wine.”

“I’ve been reduced to nothing but an oven,” Karlach fake cries and you keel over laughing.

Astarion is a bit jealous of Karlach to some extent. He knows there isn’t a romantic interest there, but if you weren’t with Astarion, you were sleeping in Karlach’s tent. Far apart (he had checked), but still. You often went hunting together, exploring together, and have lots of inside jokes. He is jealous of the emotional intimacy you guys share because he knows you share that with him too. He likes Karlach- so at least she isn’t the worst to share with.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel are very close to you as well, but Karlach is the one Astarion knows he is sharing your heart with. You love her as if she is your own kin.

“I wonder,” you say with a slur, “how hard would it be to kill Zariel or Mizora?”

Wyll rolls his eyes and laughs at your question, “why? Do you plan on storming the Hells and releasing us from our chains?”

Astarion wasn’t surprised when Wyll warmed up to you. You had been kind to him when he was changed into a fiend. You understood that his reasoning for taking the contract was personal- Wyll had briefly mentioned his family. Anyone- Astarion included- who tried to make a jab at Wyll was scolded by you. Now that he knows more about your family, he is less bitter about it and you also rip Will a new one (with much more anger, in fact) when he insults Astarion. When Wyll had made a jab at him and brought up eating rats- you had pushed Wyll into the river in the Owlbear cave and right into a disgusting bit of Owlbear waste floating on the bank. Wyll makes lots of jokes about Astarion, but he has never mentioned the rats again.

You shrug, “why not? I have favors to cash in from Obhark anyway- might as well put them to good use. It’s not like I’ll be doing anything other than working after all of this is over anyhow. The Hells might be an interesting vacation prospect.”

“Or you could leave the Nightmasks and we could all just travel together forever!” Karlach exclaims.

You shake your head at her sadly, “No one leaves the Nightmasks.”

“How come?” Wyll asks, “if you don’t mind sharing some?”

You raise an eyebrow at Wyll and take a long sip from your bottle of wine before passing it to Astarion. Astarion watches your every move- hangs on your every word.

“Well Mr.Monster Hunter,” you tease, “any time someone attempts to permanently leave the Nightmasks, Obhark- the Faceless- calls for a hunt with a boon- a favor that you can cash in at any point- provided it’s reasonable.”

“In what world do Master Vampires give out boons?” Astarion finds his voice again, bewildered.

“Good question, wish I could answer it for ya” you state with a shrug, “he’s had a hold on Westgate for centuries. Although I work for him- I’m not particularly fond of him. He’s horrible to his consort- my Ward. He beats her, rapes her, etc. Swears up, down, left, right, and sideways that he loves her and he buys her fancy things, but….”

You shake your head before continuing, “anyway- if you are the one who kills the individual- you win the boon. He always does that for the ‘suicide mission’ contracts. Obhark will offer them for other types of contracts- sometimes easy ones- if the need is urgent enough. Outside of the Deathbringers- the assassins and thieves rarely participate due to how dangerous these contracts usually are.”

“How many do you have, Soldier,” Karlach muses, “ten? Twenty?”

You pause and you look slightly uncomfortable, “I have 110.”

The silence is extremely thick in the air. All Astarion thinks about is that there was 110 times possibilities that he almost never got to meet you.

“Dahlia started making me take those contracts the minute I became a Deathbringer,” you look at your feet, “I have a 100 percent success rate- obviously.”

Karlach seems to understand that you don’t want to go further on that particular part so she interjects before Wyll can ask more questions.

“Do you have any friends or do you all hate each other’s guts?”

You snort, “I suppose you could call them ‘friends’. Everus is a human shade who steals my shit all the time, breaks into my home, and then wonders why I don’t have anything there. Then there’s Lucia who’s been with the guild for 500 years give or take. She trained me after I became a Deathbringer. Ghost is… the weirdest of them all. He is some sickly man who has a ring of regeneration, but he’ll go from one corpse to the next and just use those to fight. Draegan is a fucking asshole who refuses to leave me alone and likes to show off more than he likes living. I hate when we are assigned stuff together- it’s usually me fixing every fuck up he’s made while trying to drag his half alive body away and keep myself alive.

“There are others like Rinara who I just don’t fucking like on principle alone- too murder happy. I’m the oddball- I actually don’t enjoy killing people for fun. I’m,” you put the next part in quotes, “too ethical.”

“They sound like an…. Eclectic group.” Wyll says with his eyebrow raised, “and if you don’t like killing, why are you there?”

You simply shrug and look up at the stars.

“You don’t always get a choice- I feel like you know that as well as I do.”

Wyll nods in agreement and gives you an empathetic look. Astarion just takes you in- watching the fire flickering across your face- kissing every corner of your skin. He’s never been so jealous of a campfire- he wants to be the one memorizing your skin and tracing your features.

Karlach interjects, “I’m still held up on the whole- ‘House’ thing. You have a house!?”

You, for whatever reason, look incredibly uncomfortable with the question, but you smile at Karlach anyway.

“Yeah, just a townhome in Baldur’s Gate. It’s in the Upper City, but I’m never there so I usually just pay whatever and if I end up in Baldur’s gate I’ll stay there,” you shrug your shoulders, “I was going to sell it after my last contract but I was very rudely interrupted by Mindflayers.”

“Why would you sell it!?”

Karlach is bewildered and admittedly so is Astarion. Upper city Townhomes are beautiful- he used to wonder what it would be like to own one or even just walk into one. Astarion wonders if he’s ever walked by your town home while you were there- did your paths ever unknowingly cross?

“Um well,” you pick at your nails, one of them bleeding as you rip it off, “I bought it because my late girlfriend had really wanted to move there after I had a bit more freedom, but evidently, it didn't last very long. She was the artistic one in the relationship so I only have a mattress in the damn place. I thought buying it might bring some part of her back, but it was a stupid thought.”

This is the third time Astarion has encountered Tessa in a conversation with you. You barely bring her up and if he tries to lead you in that direction- you pivot and shut down. He knows what your last image of her was.

“I don’t think that’s stupid,” Karlach says softly, “what happened to her?”

“ I was allowed to be with her, but it came with extra curricular torture activities,” you clear your throat, Astarion winces at the defeat in your voice, “My ‘mentor’ had one of her assassin’s kill her. It was brutal. Dahlia gave me a fake contract in the same sewer system she lured Tessa to. I heard her screaming and I was the one who-“ you take a shaky breath, “found her. I- I don’t really care to talk about it much. It was halfway my fault- I should have been keeping a closer eye on her. She was trying to blackmail Dahlia so I didn’t have to join the Nightmasks because if you are unwilling- they’ll release you. It’s the only chance you have of getting out alive if someone tries to force you into it- the Nightmasks don’t want to have the reputation that you have to be forced to join. I was just too terrified of Dahlia to say anything so Tessa took matters into her own hands and well, she’s dead so how well did that really turn out- truly?”

You try to laugh it off and Astarion watches one stray tear roll down your face as you take another swig from the bottle. In what world could that be your fault? Astarion doesn’t blame Tessa for trying- if he was in her shoes, he would have probably ended up doing the same thing. Especially knowing how cruel Dahlia is.

“I met her close to the end of my first year living with Dahlia,” you smile softly to yourself, “she worked in her family's local Alchemy shop that Dahlia would send me to while training at a local Warlock guild. I was horrifically smitten and she knew it too. She used to hit on me every time and I would just grab my stuff- turn around and race out of the shop,” your laugh is melancholic, “then she found me bleeding out in an alleyway one time and she somehow was able to get me into her dorm, took care of me, and when I woke up the next morning- I panicked and left.

“I felt a bit bad- Dahlia was not thrilled so I disappeared for a few days,” you say slowly, Astarion knows what probably happened during those three days, “then when I was sent back to the Alchemy shop a week later- I brought this giant bundle of wildflowers. I grabbed every one I could find that even remotely reminded me of her and I don’t know? I guess it just evolved? She always wanted to move to Baldur’s Gate- she’d talk about how beautiful our townhome would be and she had all these plans. I could have given a shit less as long as she was there.”

“Look at you, Soldier!” Karlach exclaims, “how romantic of you! First flowers and then a whole ass townhome? I wish I had met you a few years prior to Gortash selling me off!”

“Oh shut your mouth, it’s not like it was a big deal,” You are bright, bright red and you scoff, “I had just overheard her complain to her sister that all the ‘suitors’ brought her ‘normal’ flowers and she felt like it was lazy. I merely went for a stroll- it wasn’t that hard so I don’t know why they never got the hint. She wasn’t necessarily quiet about it, but she also told me later she had been so loud about it because she was hoping I might listen and do something with that information.”

You are shaking your head and smiling in spite of yourself. He is going to have to add ‘Romantic’ and ��Thoughtful’ to the list of personality traits you harbor. Astarion is trying to ignore his thoughts wondering which flowers would remind you of him.

“At any rate-“ Wyll says, “at least you now have a few reasons to visit Baldur’s Gate more often now?”

You are practically beaming, “this is true!”

You sigh and look up at the stars with a sad smile, “who knows- maybe I’ll change my mind. There is like four bedrooms so-“

“CAN I MOVE IN WITH YOU!?” Karlach bursts, “if I don’t, ya know, combust.”

You smile brightly at the question, “you can, but I can’t promise Everus won’t try to steal your shit. You are welcome to light him on fire if he does. Fucking asshole keeps stealing my produce at the compound- haven’t caught him yet, but when I do it’s game over for him.”

It’s the most bizarre complaint to have if you live amongst a group of feared Assassins, thieves, and vampire generals. Astarion catches how Wyll looks over at Karlach with hope and smiles- appearing to be thrilled that she asked you to let her stay with you in Baldur’s Gate. Wyll is smitten and from the look on your face when you look between the two of them- you see it too. Karlach glances at Wyll and looks at you shyly.

Adorable, Astarion thinks sarcastically, they’ll be a real joy to live with when this is all over.

He freezes. What did he just think?

Astarion doesn’t know why he’s automatically assuming you’ll be gracious enough to let him live with you when this is all said and done. Why is he already imagining exactly how he would decorate the damn place? You had bought the apartment 5 years prior to him to resurrect the memory of a dead ex-girlfriend and he’s more than likely a fleeting fancy until you realize someone like (and he hates to admit it) Gale or Shadowheart would be a more appropriate choice of long term partner than him. Astarion has managed to inflate and then immediately deflate himself- hope is a fickle thing.

Wyll and Karlach get up, saying they need to go clean their armor, leaving the two of you sitting in silence. Astarion feels like he’s about to start unraveling at the seams being with you alone- it’s like he wants to weave himself into your bones so that he never has to know what it feels like to be without you again.

Today has been… a bit eye opening for him and he is trying to resist the urge to push you away despite how freaked out he feels about his very very strong feelings of adoration for you. Astarion does have a plan to execute (or so he keeps telling himself) and he’s about 2 weeks behind.

“You could live with me too you know,” you say in a whisper, “ I get plenty of contracts in lots of places that make a hefty amount of coin. Silverymoon, St. Carwell’s Vale- they have a pirate cove nearby and they are very fun to drink with or so I’ve been told, there’s the merchants in Melavunt on the Moonsea, Menzoberranzan…”

You look at him coyly, he wants to kiss the look of fear and anticipation of rejection off your face.

“I guess what I’m saying is that I would split the money with you and you could travel the world without any real obligation. With me? If you wanted! That is… or by yourself. I mean the Nightmasks could always use more talented Thieves… wouldn’t be my first recommendation though.”

“Darling, I would love nothing more than to steal from every person in Westgate with you,” Astarion smiles glumly, “but I don’t know how good of a travel companion I’ll be if we can’t be out during the day.”

“I’m not worried about that,” you state matter of factly, “you forget that I’m an excellent assassin and I also happen to know the location for a Ring of the Sunwalker. I have more than enough ‘boons’ to try to haggle for it or at least commission the creation of a new one. If that doesn’t work- I have too much money in the bank anyhow and some favors in different cities.”

Astarion is trying not to gape at you. You’ve just offered him an opportunity to travel around the world, make money, a place to live, and a way to be in the sun when this is all over. Not to mention- you. You are extending him an invitation to remain by your side.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” you say quietly, rubbing your arm awkwardly, “either way, I’m still going to get that ring for you. It’s not right that we are basically going to save the world and you can’t even keep the whole walking in the sun thing.”

“Why? I-“ he starts, “I don’t deserve any of this. What you are offering me is… an enormous debt that I could never repay.”

“You wouldn’t have to repay me and you do deserve it. You deserve the world, Astarion,” you swallow thickly before you look him in the eyes, “I would just be happy to have you there. I enjoy fighting with you and spending time with you- I feel safe for the first time in a long time…And besides, I need someone to rough up some pirates with. I’ve been itching to go, but I wouldn’t even know how to fit in.”

Astarion smiles widely and flashes you a flirtatious look,” I don’t know if you heard, Darling, but I’m an incredibly charismatic rogue with a love for pickpocketing.”

He leans in closer until his lips are barely touching yours- he relishes in the way your breath catches. Astarion basks in what your future together would look like and he lets himself hope for the first time in a long time. Every part of his being wants him to run and not trust you, but your eyes won’t let him go.

“And you,” he breathes, “are the most bewitching individual I have ever met with an incredible prowess for killing. I think we’ll fit right in.”

“I suppose you are right,” you whisper, lips hovering over his, “how silly of me to assume we would need help fitting in.”

“Truly a mistake on your part, Darling.”

“Quite the blunder indeed.”

Astarion presses his lips against yours, gently tangling his hands in your hair to pull you closer- making it more intense and needy. The fire doesn’t begin to compare to the way his body feels when he is with you like this. He doesn’t know how your lips move in sync with his as if the two of you have been exchanging kisses with each other your entire lives.

Time doesn’t feel like it exists right now and that scares him. He feels like he could melt into you and continue to just have you this way for the rest of his immortal li-

“ASTARION AND ROWAN- SITTING IN A TREE!K— I-!”

Nevermind- moment ruined.

“KARLACH!!!!!”

You are up and sprinting after her at a breathtaking speed- a new bread roll in your hand. Karlach is running away with her cackle being carried in the wind.

The entire rest of the camp is staring at Astarion like he’s grown an extra head in the last two seconds. He smiles and waves awkwardly, “Uh hello.”

What in the damn hells is happening? When did he become some shy, smitten school boy!?

“I knew it!” Halsin exclaims with a belly laugh, “ha! The eyes can never truly hide what the soul desires!”

Oh Gods- he might have made a mistake not asking you to just go with him to his tent. Is this how those gross couples in Baldur’s Gate end up in these situations? You just get lost in the fucking moment and the whole world gets to see it?

Lae’zel scoffs, “tsk, if this is going to become a thing- keep your bizarre mating rituals inside your tent.”

Astarion has to fight hard to shove the embarrassment down and puts on his suave facade.

“Oh please, Lae’zel,” Astarion drawls, leaning back on the heels of his hand, “ if you are jealous of me, just say so.”

Lae’zel throws the sword she’s sharpening to the ground and storms off in the opposite direction of Astarion. Maybe he hit the nail on the head a little too hard.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You, Shadowheart, Lae’zel and Karlach are laying in Karlach’s tent- giggly, drunk, and stupid (Lae’zel isn’t giggly or stupid, but she certainly isn’t sober). You had come back to camp and Shadowheart told you that Astarion had run off looking embarrassed after you left. Apparently Lae’zel and Halsin had given him a hard time.

“Tsk, if the spawn cannot be proud of his affections for you then he does not deserve it at all.”

You are burning red, “he does not have ‘affections’ for me Lae’zel!”

“Well whatever he is feeling,” Shadowheart quips, “it’s pretty damn close. He looks at you like you are some kind of walking Goddess in physical form.”

“You guys need to stop,” you pretend to be serious, but you are so giddy at the idea of him being as smitten with you as you are him. Astarion is beautiful in every way- even when he is being a pill.

“No way Soldier,” Karlach clicks her tongue, “I thought I might explode watching the way he kissed you. I wanted to switch places with you even!”

It was a beautiful kiss. You want more time doing that- you don’t care if it goes further nor do you need it to- the feeling of his lips on yours is enough.

“Have you guys…” Shadowheart flashes you a mischievous smile, “had sex yet?”

Your reaction must have been enough because Karlach cheers and Shadowheart looks slightly crestfallen.

“I told you Shadowheart!”

“I’m in shock! I thought I knew them better than that,” Shadowheart sighs, “but you must tell us- what was it like? How was it compared to previous experiences?”

You don’t want to tell Shadowheart that this was your first time having consensual intercourse. You and Tessa had begun fooling around towards the end, but it was cut short before it could go further.

“He was very gentle,” you whisper in embarrassment and dream like bliss, “and caring. It was… amazing.”

Karlach and Shadowheart are chattering excitedly, talking about all the cute underwear you are going to need to buy in Baldur’s Gate. Lae’zel continues to scoff- she doesn’t understand the reasoning behind spending so much money on fabric when the ‘Spawn’ will probably tear them off anyway. You have to redirect yourself from the thought- you do not need to be turned on right now.

Besides- you are still entirely unsure if he is even in the same headspace as you. Shadowheart did inform you when you first came into camp that Astarion is a flirt and that they had had a very wonderful make out session together the first night of camp. Shadowheart had disliked you for a bit when Astarion’s attentions turned elsewhere, but the whole thing had disappeared. Well until now.

“He really is an incredible kisser,” Shadowheart reminisces, “with everything his hands can do over clothing- Shar help me- I can’t even imagine how it would feel to have him touch you naked. I’ve been with men like him a few times- it can get incredibly kinky and never boring. It is a shame that he and I didn’t mesh as well to begin with. Maybe I should try again- I mean who knows, it would give us something fun to share.”

“He’s not a thing to share, Shadowheart,” you say tersely, “and I wouldn’t be open to that, ever.”

Shadowheart’s smile falters for a moment. You realize that she had expected you to be open to the idea.

“He might and I’ll be here. Men like him get bored of the same old thing eventually,” Shadowheart waves her hand around non-chalantly.

Karlach notices you wince and she holds your hand in hers- giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it go. Shadowheart has been in a particularly foul mood since Astarion kissed you earlier in the day. Ever since, she’s been piss drunk and pointing out everything you have ever told her you were insecure about. You are grateful you didn’t tell her Astarion was your first.

You know Shadowheart is drunk, but it still worries you. Astarion is not an object to share, he is a person, but you also know that Shadowheart is beautiful and well versed in sex.

Astarion is also beautiful and well versed in sex.

You are not.

Karlach knows that the Shadowheart thing is somewhat of a sore spot- not because you wouldn’t be happy for them, but because she is so much more- well everything- than you could ever dream to be.

She is also brilliant to look at with her raven hair and blue eyes. Smart, tough, and fluid- cool girl. There isn’t a single scar anywhere but on her cheek and she doesn’t even remember her past so he wouldn’t have to be so accommodating.

I can see you going there, Soldier. She’s just drunk and jealous.

You and Karlach had ultimately come to the conclusion the third week into this journey that Astarion’s flirting towards you was genuine and that he did not seem to have eyes for Shadowheart. Karlach insisted that you spy on their interactions (there hadn’t been a single one and it was a waste of a rest day). You always wonder though when she makes comments like this- Karlach and Astarion being the only two to know you were a virgin up until 2 weeks ago.

“Soldier and I are going to go get more beverages,” Karlach announces, “we shall be back with the goods!”

You follow Karlach out of the tent and she grabs a third of a bottle of whiskey out of her bag- sitting next to the campfire and taking a sip. She pats the spot next to her and she offers you the Whiskey. You take a massive sip- trying to avoid becoming emotional over your frustration and self-loathing.

“I really like him,” you whisper.

“I know Soldier,” Karlach says empathetically, “Shadowheart doesn’t always seem to read the room very well. She is right though- he does watch you flutter about camp and stare at you as if you are a Goddess to be worshipped.”

You roll your eyes at her, “first of all, I don’t ‘flutter’ about anywhere. Second- she has history with him, barely, but enough for her to be pissed. Third- the man has literally avoided being alone with me for the last two weeks!”

Karlach snorts, “oh please. You want to know why he’s avoiding you? From quite literally everyone else’s perspective in camp.”

“Fine,” you huff.

Karlach takes another big swig from her whiskey and passes it back to you.

“Astarion isn’t a feelings guy- he’s a total flirt and to some extent, not overly trustworthy,” Karlach says, “but today? I had tried to hold him back when he went running to get to you. I didn’t know he knew misty step, but it didn't matter- the way he screamed your name when we all saw you start to fall was haunting. I think his feelings for you are just too… overwhelming and confusing for him to navigate. He refuses to leave your side- no matter how pissed off he may be. Hells- that little lover’s quarrel you had at camp that one day looked like it derailed him entirely. Three whole days he was constantly in the background trying to make sure you were safe. I was shocked you didn’t notice- not even once.

“ You are also the only one in camp he actually keeps his word to or does things for and it’s not with a hidden meaning either- I mean you had to have noticed that almost anything you even so much as mention needing you suddenly have. At first all the studying seemed methodical, but it’s changed.”

“I didn’t realize that’s who was getting or doing that stuff,” you say with relief and realization. You thought you were going crazy- did you always have this stuff? Did all of your stuff always have a lack of holes?

“To be fair, I just figured it out because we were stuck at camp together the other day. He must have heard me chastising you for your sleeping accommodations because before I know it- he’s in my tent, telling me not to say anything- embarrassed mind you, and stitched up all the holes in that Gods awful bed roll of yours,” Karlach chuckles to herself, “He wants you just as much as you want him.”

You stare at her as you try to believe her words. You want to believe them, but you are far too scared to. You have been avoiding people- blaming it on Dahlia despite being free of her for almost a year. You know it’s because you don’t know if you are good enough.

Karlach gets up and yanks you up onto your feet and out of your mind- earning a yelp from you from the contact. She lets go of you and offers a sheepish smile.

“Now go, my short but mighty friend,” Karlach says with bravado, handing you the bottle of whiskey, “do not be without any further!”

You leave the campfire (giving Karlach a brief fist bump) and walk to the opposite side of the camp where Astarion’s tent is. Just as you are about to knock on the wooden post, he opens his flap with a knife in hand that he is inspecting. Astarion looks surprised to see you.

Astarion recovers his composure, “hello, Darling! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh um- I,” you stammer and ultimately don’t know what to say, “I didn’t realize you were leaving- I can go and-“

“No- stay!” Astarion says quickly, grabbing your wrist as you go to turn around, “I was just going to sit by the fire anyway.”

Where Karlach and I are were? You fight the smile threatening to form on your lips, Convenient timing.

You look at him shyly, “well we could still go sit by the campfire if you want?”

“After today’s events?” Astarion scowls playfully, taking your hand, “I would much rather be able to focus all my attentions on you and not everyone gawking.”

Before you can say anything, Astarion pulls you into his tent and closes the flap. Astarion is fidgeting with his blanket and bedroll before gently guiding you to lay down on them. He looks at you with an awkward, anxious smile gracing his lips. You suppress the giggle that threatens to escape your lips- you are happy that he seems just as nervous as you are.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion lays down next to you and you cautiously curl yourself into his side with your head on his chest- your left arm and leg draped across him as your head lays where his quiet heart lies. Your happy sigh fills him with joy. Astarion traces circles on your back- enjoying the simplicity of the moment.

Astarion waits for you to pull at his clothes, seduce him, or at the very least ask him to fuck you. You don’t though. You lay there, unmoving and content. Weird.

“So- four whole bedrooms?” Astarion ponders out loud, “and you only have a mattress?”

You grumble, “I knew that was going to be brought up.”

“Darling, it’s a town home in the upper city and you only have a mattress! Of course it was going to be brought up!”

“It was the only one for sale- there wasn’t anything small anywhere. I checked at least a half a dozen times,” you grimace, “but I needed somewhere and I didn’t want to set up a permanent residence in Westgate so I just bought the damn place.”

“Where were you planning on moving?” Astarion inquires, “since you were visiting with the intentions of selling it?”

“Honestly? I wasn’t sure,” you say dreamily, “I was thinking of Neverwinter, Iceland Dales, Silverymoon, Waterdeep, Menzoberranzan, or maybe a short stint in Candlekeep. I can’t read common, but I would love to be able to explore their library. I’m sure they have something in Undercommon that I can read.”

“Those are all wildly different locations and climates, my Dear,” he says teasingly while placing a kiss on top of your head without thinking.

You shrug, “I’m just very complex.”

“And apparently travel a lot.”

“I try not to make it a habit of staying in the same place too long. Eventually the loneliness in a familiar place loses its novelty,” you sigh, “I just do whatever work is around the area until I get a contract. Typically I get up and leave after that then start the process over somewhere else.”

“What kind of work in the area?” Astarion says while absentmindedly untangling your hair with his lithe fingers.

“Farm work, guard duty, hunting,” you hmmm as you think, “head hunting, cleaning and bartending depending on if I am able to get a job at a local inn.”

Astarion busts up laughing at the idea of you of all people being a bartender. You hate being perceived- let alone talked to by strangers. You would have easily been Cazador’s worst nightmare.

“What’s so funny!?” You exclaim, keeping your lips in a serious line.

“Oh nothing, Darling,” Astarion quips, “I can’t even begin to imagine you as a bartender.”

You prop yourself up to look at him- you are frowning.

“How so?”

“Darling,” he says snickering, “you looked like you were going to have a homicidal meltdown when that man at the Grove ‘looked at you funny’. You quite literally scared the piss out of him.”

“Because he looked at me funny! Lae’zel agreed.”

“Oh yes,” Astarion says while rolling his eyes, “because Lae’zel is the most reliable judge of social situations.”

“I happen to think she’s the best- I mean you saw how well the crèche went today, right?”

“Sometimes I forget that narrowly escaping death is your definition of ‘well’.”

You shrug, sitting up briefly to take a sip out of the open bottle of whiskey.

“I have relatively low standards when it comes to fighting Githyanki.”

“Ah,” he huffs in acknowledgement, “I forgot- Whalebone Spice blood. I suppose they weren’t necessarily the most attractive creatures to begin with, but to taste like that? How embarrassing.”

You are midswig of alcohol when you begin to snort from laughter and proceed to choke so hard on the whiskey that some of it sprays from your mouth and onto Astarion’s shirt. You are absolutely mortified and you cover your face with your hands, slowly getting up. Astarion doesn’t know whether to be upset or not, but he doesn’t feel like upset is the most accurate term for what he is feeling.

Your embarrassment is way too adorable. Painfully adorable and Astarion would be a fool not to take advantage of the moment.

“Well, on that note,” you keep your face covered, “I should be goi-“

“Oh no you don’t,” Astarion says teasingly, pulling your hands away from your face, “you owe me for this one.”

The mischievous glint in his eye tells you he is up to absolutely no good.

“Oh? And what do you feel I owe you?”

“Hmmmm, well Darling,” Astarion says, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “help cleaning off would be greatly appreciated.”

Your eyes go wide and Astarion playfully pulls your bottom lip between his teeth. A beautiful, whimpering moan escapes your lips and he smiles cheekily. He cherishes the moments when he can make you speechless instead of the other way around.

“Okay,” you say breathily.

“Okay?” Astarion teases, “I’ve never had a more enthusiastic lover.”

Astarion has to fight the smile when you grow an even darker shade of red at the title.

*smut starts here*

“I-I’m sorry-“ you say, looking down at your feet and rubbing your arm shyly, “I guess I’m not entirely sure what ‘helping’ you clean up entails soooo…”

“Well we have established that you do know how sex works, Darling,” Astarion says with a smirk, “but I suppose I could show you again…”

*smut starts here*

Astarion’s fingers dance along the hem of your shirt- pulling it off you in one swift movement. Astarion kisses the junction between your shoulder and your neck, taking a quick nip at the skin before pulling away.

“Typically,” he whispers, “you want to start with the offending articles of clothing- which for you, my Sweet- is anything that prevents me from seeing that beautiful body of yours.”

“Ast-“

“Ah,” Astarion cups your jaw with one of his hands and puts his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, “I need you to be quiet, Darling. I’m trying to focus- you do want to learn, don’t you?”

You nod eagerly and he rewards you by pushing your thighs apart with his leg before rubbing it against your clothed heat. Your heart galloping and the smell of your arousal is making Astarion feel like he may go into a frenzy if he doesn’t get to have you soon.

He pushes the gross feelings down- hard- trying to prevent dissociation or at least obvious dissociation.

You wouldn’t go through with it if he didn’t seem to be having a good time and Astarion isn’t ready to have the, “surprise! I’m a prostitute against my own free will and I’ve been using my craft to make you like me, but now I’m horribly confused!” Conversation.

Astarion is snapped out of his thoughts when he feels your tongue glide along the ridge of his thumb before you nick his thumb with one of your canines. Your tongue flicks out to lap at the pin prick of a wound, but it must have been enough because your pupils are blown even wider now with lust and need. Astarion didn’t expect such a simple little action to rile him up so much, but he’s hardly done anything to you and his cock is straining against his pants.

“Cheeky pup,” Astarion praises, “you are full of surprises aren’t you?”

Astarion practically rips your pants off, taking his thumb out of your mouth, but making a point of drawing more blood- soaking in your wanting moans as his blood coats your tongue- as he teases your folds through your underwear before slowly slipping his fingers in between your legs while rubbing your clit with his thumb. Astarion’s plan to continue teasing you quickly dissolves when he adds a second finger, you begin to writhe and beg for him to take you underneath him. Astarion has you right where he wants you and yet he does not feel like he’s the one in control in this situation. You are like an addiction he can’t kick and he is excited to actually be excited about sex for once.

You are helping him hastily and messily remove his clothes- Astarion is caught up in the desperation to be inside you that he flips you onto your stomach- not thinking. You stiffen underneath him with a sharp breath and he snaps out of whatever lustful haze he is in.

It had been too aggressive of a movement- far too similar to your trauma.

“I’m so sorry,” he says quickly, turning you back over and you are looking up at him with fear in your eyes.

His heart shatters- Astarion wants you to feel safe with him and he just threw your trust away. He is so nervous as he takes in your facial expressions.

“I- it’s okay,” you say, trying to smile through the panic, “I just wasn’t expecting it was all. I trust you- I want to try.”

Astarion searches your eyes- he feels his brows furrowing and his face being consumed with the worry he is feeling.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, stroking your cheek and leaving soft kisses along your jaw, “we can do whatever you want, Darling. It’s just a privilege to be with you.”

It’s true- Astarion knows deep down that if he had met you in Baldur’s Gate that he would have begrudgingly taken you back to Cazador to become his meal. He is glad that is not the context you met each other in.

“I’m sure Star,” you gently tangle your hands behind his neck, you sigh into his shoulder,“I trust you and I know you won’t hurt me.”

Astarion works his way up until he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. When the hell did he become an affectionate lover?

“Thank you, Darling,” Astarion says breathily, “you can’t even begin to imagine how much that means to me.”

You allow him to help you flip back over- still wet and wanting from the earlier activities. Astarion positions you in front of the mirror on the opposite side of his tent- he’s not as hard as he was prior to the incident, but the look on your face changes that entirely as he slowly presses inside you.

Pure, carnal desire and pleasure- he groans at how your walls clench around him. Your hands are digging into the fabric of his bed roll and you are practically panting with lust as you adjust to him- yelping blissfully when he pulls back and snaps his hips into yours. Astarion wishes he could actually watch himself doing this to you, but he’s still thrilled by all of your reactions- each one earning a harder, faster thrust from Astarion each time.

You are crying out in pleasure- fighting to not collapse. You are looking at where he would be in the mirror and Gods is he grateful you are. Astarion feels your legs violently shaking as you release around him- your eyes fluttering as you ride out your orgasm. He gently pulls you flush against him by your hair, moving his left arm between the junction of your breasts to hold you in place, and bares you to himself in the mirror.

Your breasts are perfect- nipples hard and sensitive from the cool night air and arousal. Your orgasm is dripping between your legs- where you are taking him so well. You look absolutely euphoric and perfect this way. He traces the lines of your scars up to your breasts- pinching the swollen nubs until you are a whimpering mess clenching around him again. You are painted in your own nectar again- the growing waterfall between your legs causing a possessive growl to leave Astarion’s throat as he nips at your neck.

Astarion is the only one who can make you feel this way and he wants to make sure you never forget it.

“Gods you are a work of art,” he says, moving his hand that was playing with your breasts to rub your swollen, sensitive clit and he snaps up into you. The whimper that leaves your lips is so pitifully blissed out that Astarion loses his composure- thrusting up into you sloppily as he begins coming into you without any warning, grunting through his arousal as he praises you.

*smut ends here*

“You were so good for me, Little Love,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “but I definitely don’t think I am any cleaner than I was before.”

“And who’s fault is that?” You retort between heavy breaths.

Astarion laughs and then rolls you both onto your sides. Astarion wraps himself around you, pushing his nose into your hair and inhaling your scent- the already intoxicating aroma is even sweeter with the scent of you and him mixed together between your legs. Astarion glides his fingers between your legs and licks the combination off his fingers- humming in delight. He can feel the heat crawl up the back of your neck.

I can’t believe I almost lost this today, Astarion thinks, trying to just be in the moment with the warmth you make him feel, but there is also guilt, shame, and self- loathing. It makes him feel heavy- left to wonder if he will always feel this way despite enjoying himself with you. Would you be okay with that? Waiting for him to be okay? Astarion didn’t, however, realize that his “thought” was actually spoken out loud.

“Lost what today?”

Astarion stiffens against you- embarrassed more than anything. Astarion just hides his face in your hair and chuckles breathily.

“Oh only the first real companion I’ve had in a very long time,” he tries to brush it off, chuckles, “our late night trysts- sex included or not- are rather pleasurable. I think I’d go insane if I was stuck with everyone else here on my own.”

You are silent and what he knows is seconds, feels like hours before you finally speak again.

“Is that why you followed me earlier today?”

That is a good question. Why did Astarion follow you when you went to blow up the crèche?

You had all agreed after hastily retrieving the Blood of Lathander that blowing up the building is the best chance you and your companions had at getting out of there alive with no Githyanki to worry about. You volunteered to power up the machine.

Astarion didn’t tell you how much he despised the plan- that hadn’t gone well for him last time and he really would prefer to not upset you- not that you wouldn’t be kind to him, he just wasn’t sure if he would be able to be kind to you regarding your life being on the line.

Astarion has noticed you both seem to have very different opinions on the value of your life, but he tried to keep his thoughts to himself. Anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t fast enough to outrun a small blast.

Karlach, Lae’zel, and Astarion watched as the monastery exploded and you sprinted faster than Astarion had ever seen anyone sprint before.

The blast was massive- the foundation of the Monastery falling apart at an alarmingly fast rate. The noise was deafening. This was far more powerful than any of you anticipated and he feels the pit in his stomach grow while watching you.

Then Astarion saw that the floor underneath your feet was going to give and you began to dip out of eye sight- Karlach and Lae’zel had the same realization he did- you are about to die underneath all of that rubble.

He remembers Karlach trying to hold him back- telling him you wouldn’t want him to go and just wait until one of you can afford Withers. Astarion didn’t want to have to wait or be without you for however long that would be.

The way his throat hurt screaming for you. Astarion had cast misty steps without much forethought involved and just barely got to you in time. He hadn’t meant to tackle you, but you being mad at him is the least of his concerns. He had only had one goal and it was for you to get out of there alive- it scared him how easily he had been a second thought to himself.

He’s never been more afraid for another person or to lose said person in his 239 years of living (that he can remember)- up until you. Astarion would have hated himself for the rest of eternity if something terrible had happened to you and he didn’t even try to save you.

“I-,” Astarion clears his throat, “I don’t know Darling. We were just watching the tower collapse and I saw that the foundation underneath you was going to give…

“I cast misty steps without even really thinking about it. I’m still struggling to believe it myself… I’ve never really thought about anyone else’s safety before.”

Astarion tries to feel brave despite his vulnerability- he supposes he’ll know if he is just sex to you or not.

You turn around to face him, running your fingers through his hair as he pulls you into him- your faces mere inches apart.

You are reading him and Astarion avoids your gaze. He doesn’t want you to see how intensely his feelings are starting to change, but he also doesn’t want to slip his facade back on- he relaxes when you lean your forehead against his.

“Thank you, Astarion,” you whisper his name like a silent prayer.

“Of course, Little Love,” he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and then inhales slowly.

You smell like lavender, clary sage, and pine- the three most random things have quickly become his favorite combination of scents. He wanted to bottle up the smell so he never has to be without.

Astarion considers your earlier proposition of traveling together after this is all over. It’s been almost 2 months of you knowing one another and it’s been a wonderful 2 months of fun- minus the being hunted by psychotic vampires and could turn into tentacled creatures at any moment.

He hasn’t dared to think about your offer until just now. Astarion knows that you will inevitably end things with him before the end of this journey when you realize he has little to no worth outside of pleasure, but Gods can’t he dream about a world where that never happens? Even if only for a little while?

“I think Candlekeep would be a first good spot for us to go- if we survive this whole tadpole thing,” Astarion says absentmindedly, “I do love a good book.”

“Oh I know,” you say while wiggling your eyebrows at him, “why do you think I even mentioned it?”

“Darling,” Astarion gasps, “how dare you exploit my weakness for literature!”

“I’m despicable, I know,” you put the back of your hand to your forehead, “my plan was to manipulate you into traveling with me the entire time. All I needed to do was find something that may interest you.”

“I didn’t realize I was so easy to please.”

“I wouldn’t say that- you have very reasonable and accessible hobbies,” you say slowly, “you are just difficult to keep up with sometimes.”

“Whatever do you mean, my Dear?” Astarion says trying to hide the nervous edge that threatens to lace his voice.

You look at him with the same amount of nerves he is feeling on the inside. You are cautious and guarded now- like you were when he first met you.

“Um well- Shadowheart told me that you guys um,” you shift uncomfortably, “almost started a thing before I joined camp.”

Wonderful, how thoughtful of her.

“…it was that first day when we were setting up the tents. She mentioned that you guys made out with a lot of heavy petting. Shadowheart had this whole idea of making you beg for it.”

Oh really? Astarion thinks bitterly.

“ She was actually a little bit pissed when you kind of stopped regarding her completely. She’s moved on now, well I hope or maybe she hasn’t because she brought it up again tonight that it’s a bummer you didn’t mesh… and she started talking about being with ‘men like you’ and how you prefer someone who is exciting in bed…”

Oh I’m going to kill that cleric, Astarion thinks, she will not be derailing my plan nor this- whatever this is.

It had barely been anything- Shadowheart had approached him, he couldn’t tell her no, she got him hard, and by the time he was nicely dissociated- she had pushed herself off of him saying he needed to earn it.

Then he met you the next day and having to force himself to be with Shadowheart was quickly thrown out the window.

Astarion had been grateful if he was honest with himself. Beyond grateful, actually. Astarion can’t imagine being with Shadowheart when he has you- someone who respects him and seems to enjoy his company outside of sex- enough to offer your company before and after at least.

Your voice is a sad whisper now, “and well- she mentioned maybe asking you to also… be with her in this way.”

Oh he is going to go and rip that Cleric to pieces.

“I told her I wasn’t comfortable with that and she basically told me it was a pity I wasn’t- men ‘like you’ eventually get bored.”

You avoid his gaze, looking at where your left hand is settled on his shoulder, “I guess I was wondering if that is something I should be prepared for or if you are interested in being with her in that way. I honestly don’t know if I could still be with you- it would maybe hurt too much, but I understand. She’s beautiful, sexual, smart-“

“And yet she isn’t you,” Astarion says harsher than he intended. You look at him vulnerably and he kisses you deeply before continuing- surprising himself with how romantic he is being.

“Shadowheart did approach me on the third night of camp- right before you joined our group,” Astarion says with resentment, “I- Cazador used to have me go hunt for the most beautiful souls in Baldur’s Gate so that he could feed.

“I haven’t been given the luxury of saying ‘no’ for the last 200 years- not that she would have known that, but I… was barely there by the time she decided to leave. We had only been kissing and it all felt… mechanical. Rehearsed,” he is searching your eyes for any signs of disgust, but all he sees is understanding and encouragement to continue, “I was honestly grateful she walked off. I had tried to flirt back the next day- thinking it would be better for me to make an ally than an enemy. I wouldn’t be able to say no to her advances anyway- I figured I would just embrace it.

“Then I met you- ethereal, eccentric, dangerous, wonderful you,” he whispers as if the moon might hear how valuable you are and take you away, “and I don’t think I’ve looked at another soul ever since. You seem to see me- hear me. You are the only person to respect my boundaries- even when I am not respecting my own.

“Not a day goes by where I don’t enjoy your company- even on our rest days when everyone else is being a pill. You are the first person I’ve ever willingly propositioned as well- something I never thought I’d be able to do.”

Astarion tries to remind himself that this is all part of his act- he’s failing miserably. He really went and fucked up his own plan over choosing the wrong person. Maybe Shadowheart would have been the better choice for the sake of his sanity and his emotions. At least he knew what Shadowheart wanted. Your expression is unreadable and Astarion begins to feel anxious.

“But if you would like to include Shadowheart- I could tr-,” he begins slowly.

“NO!” You shout and cause both of you to jump, “No, Astarion. I definitely don’t want to include Shadowheart. I would like to keep our recreational activities and whatever we are doing to just us. I suppose I was just insecure because I have basically no sexual experience and evidently you do and she does and- nevermind! It was a dumb thought. “I want you to know- I don’t think less of you for everything with Cazador,” you say reassuringly, “you are not broken or a thing to be used. I couldn’t imagine enduring that kind of suffering for 200 years and Gods I hate that wretched man even more!!! But thank you for sharing all of that with me. It couldn’t have been easy so thank you for letting me get to know you more. I certainly cannot wait to parade Cazador’s head around on a stick with you through Baldur’s Gate.”

He lets out a choked laugh at your statement. Astarion holds you closer for a moment- trying to keep you from seeing his tears. You don’t look upon him with pity- every terrible story he tells you is regarded as what it is and you make him feel empowered to talk about these things. You don’t see Astarion as broken- you see him as brave and strong.

“Maybe a little dumb,” he teases, before looking at you softly, “but can I ask- does that mean you are only looking at me too? Or should I be anticipating a conversation about Halsin in the future?”

Astarion is asking in a joking tone, but he is scared to hear your answer. Halsin is the newest member in your weird little camp and he definitely has his eyes on you.

Astarion is positive that, whatever souls are made of- yours and his are the same. You understand him on an entirely different level and he is almost positive he would do anything to convince you to stay with him.

Astarion began talking to you so you would worship him and yet, here he is, worshiping you- as terrifying as that is.

You kiss him and Astarion has never felt more wanted- needed in his whole life. Your lips are soft and necessitous against his. Gently coaxing soft moans from his mouth. You stop to look at him- your face serious.

“I don’t want anyone else,” you say, “asking that was definitely a little dumb.”

Astarion meets you halfway, kissing you over and over again until you are entangled in each other- mind, body, and soul.

That night, for the first time ever, Astarion makes love.

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #karlach #bg3 #astarion acunin #astarion x female reader #Astarion x AFAB! reader #smut #astarion x f! reader #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x gn!tav

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shapelytimber · 2 months ago

Note

If you want to try Karlach and Lae’zel in your party for a bit, my first campaign’s combat group was ‘three bloodthirsty women and a nerd’ - battle master Durge, battle master Lae’zel, elk heart barbarian Karlach, and magic missile/AOE Gale. No support, no complex synergy, just 4x DPS and aggression. It was loads of fun in tactician, and against Yurgir (or similar melee biased fights) they were transcendent. Might have been more optimal and/or fun with Karlach as a way of the open hand monk, but I haven’t tested it. Highly recommend if you want a low magic gore fest for a fight or two.

Hello anon :)) you're right that sounds fun, and of course I know I can technically play with any party members I want to, that's not like this game is very hard (at least at mid difficulty)............ But just like keeping my inventories clean, searching every box because you never know the next one might have *something* in it, or doing my grocery shopping using the same route around the isles everytime and always buying the same things to any% it..... If I don't have a perfect 50/50 magic users/non magic little guys on my party, it just feels wrong jfkfkfk

So for now I'm pretty committed to finishing my fighter class Tav run with mostly Astarion, Shadowheart and Wyll ! But I'm looking forward to planning my Durge character to fit nicely in a Lae'zel, Gale, Karlach team :D

PS : always the same rule whenever I talk about this game, anyone spoil me anything that happens after the Ketheric fight/the whole Durge thing... Istg I'll find you and challenge you to a fist fight in a parking lot (but you've all been very respectful so far so thanks <3)

#Btw you mentioned Yugir so that gives me the opportunity the complain just a bit #the fact it was the first fight I got stuck on and challenged me #so I prepared for it for hours #just to have it bug midway through and the enemies stop attacking me..........#I got very sad :( my worthy opponent please do something fkfkfkf #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #ask answered

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curoopeez · 1 month ago

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Sharing my current bg3 honor mode gameplan:

Tav: endgame's gonna be a swords bard with a two level dip in paladin to get smite, but from levels 1-7 I'll be a pure paladin to make use of the everburn blade in early act 1 and to get that sweet extra attack on level 5, then on lv 7 I respec.

Gale: I want that twink obliterated utility caster with items for a magic missile build because hitting multiple times can stack a lot of damage and the spell scroll hogger. (Also if I do make it to the final battle I might ask him to cast obliteration. I'm not counting on it, I want to obliterate him myself, but if I get that far I've got to at least ask, and if the dice let me skip to the reward, who am I to deny them?).

Wyll: I want him for his infernal rapier, also I want someone who can cast hunger of hadar because that's one of the coolest spells in the game and pairs well with sleet storm that Gale will provide, also he and Karlach are a package deal, you can't get one without the other.

Karlach: throw barbarian build, I actually haven't used her soul coins before, but I'll save them for boss battles. Later on I'm gonna multiclass her into rogue for the bonus action, but I might also give her the gloves of dexterity and make her the team's lockpick.

Shadowheart: I don't want her. The game is really insistent on recruiting her though. She's gonna stay with withers.

Astarion: I don't want him. I know his happy buff is great and his ascended form is op and he's really hot. However. I am playing a vengence paladin, and the things Astarion dissaproves of would not make their relationship easy.

Lae'zel: I don't want her. She's really cool, when I decide to romance one of the girls she's on the top of my list, and Githyanki are kinda op, but I'm sick and tired of dying on the stupid créche she insists on going to.

This honor mode run will have honor because I won't break my paladin oath, and I can't break it because withers won't respec me as an oathbreaker and I don't want to pay a fortune to restore it. Which also means I have to kill the hag on act 1, but she drops a pretty good item so it's not that bad.

As camp casters I'm gonna have a hireling cleric maxed out on hp with constitution points and aid, casting warding bond on my Tav. I'll have another transmutation wizard hireling to give everyone longstrider and to give Gale mage armor and to brew our potions. I might bring the cleric hireling for the rats infestations minibosses because honestly it's hilarious.

"Hey didn't you make one such gameplan before?" No shut up

#bg3

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saltyowlets · 1 year ago

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BG3FICFEB DAY 3: First Encounter with their Love Interest

Summary: The carrot is a metaphor, I swear

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Durge (named)

Word count: 2251

Ao3 Link: [x]

“You know, Astarion’s an odd fellow.” Olive couldn’t help but let out a loud snort.

“Oh really, what gave you that idea?”

The evening sun bathed a bare haze of sunlight upon the camp. Gale took a taste of the simmering stew with a wooden ladle, a moment to ponder, and added another dash of herbs. Few of their companions, Astarion, Wyll, and Laezel, decided to go into the forest to grab any prey that lurked beneath the trees. Gale argued that they didn’t need any meat in tonight’s impressively hearty meal but Laezel and Wyll did not take a no for an answer and went off, Astarion tagging along in hopes of finding his own prey.

Olive volunteered her services but got denied thanks to the wound Olive tried so hard to hide, a gift from yesterday’s encounter with goblin explosives from the recon. Astarion barely had a chance to warn the group of the trap when Olive ran in and triggered the explosives. After a few rounds of fighting the alerted goblins, they all managed to get away significantly unscathed, well all except Olive. The trap did most of the damage, the force throwing her far off to the other side of the chasm, and the sharp rocks left a gnarly gash in her right side. Injures like these were a dime a dozen for the most part, so Olive simply added some ointment and wrapped herself with bandages.

If it wasn’t for Astarion’s habit of constantly barging in on her tent, Olive would have been hunting with the others, but the pale elf just had to catch her right as she finished wrapping new bandages on her ribs. The indignant screech Olive let out made things worse as the whole camp ran to her tent. It took Karlach and Lae’zel to drag a kicking and screaming Olive down before Shadowheart could have a chance to cast a healing spell on Olive. The whole fiasco was enough to bench their leader from the hunting team. Now, Olive was stuck cutting vegetables. Great

Gale let out a soft chuckle. “Not my most astute observations, but I digress. Our rogue’s love for chaos seems to have brought you quite a bit of trouble. I’m curious as to how you came about him. Everyone else knows how we all met and intercepted each other at the Grove but your and Astarion’s own tale remains a mystery,” Gale said while wagging the wooden ladle towards Olive playfully.

“By all means, if you do not want to share it, I understand, but I can’t help but question the motive. I have no ill will, but mayhaps Astarion’s own morality tends to clash with yours and the overall collective camp’s, hm?”

Olive squinted at the carrots she had been chopping. She didn’t like how uneven her cuts were compared to Gale’s precise pieces. Handling a dagger to slice up goblins, no problem, but cutting vegetables? Olive let out a sigh, abandoning the half carrot to the side.

“Well, I initially left him at the beach where I found him, but I decided to drag him with me. Still not sure if I would make the same decision if I had the chance to do it all over again,” she joked as she reached out for the onions, praying to herself that her eyes would not burn this time. Olive made quick work, tossing the pieces to Gale who threw the prepped vegetables into the simmering cauldron. He eyed the unfinished carrot but said nothing.

“Well, I’m astonished. I thought you did not hesitate to help him the way you helped the others. What happened?” Gale asked genuinely curious. Olive paused for a moment, stabbing the knife onto the cutting board as she casually leaned on it with her hand. She gave Gale a matter of fact look.

“He pulled a knife onto my neck.” Gale had just taken another taste of the stew when Olive blatantly confessed, earning a sputter.

“He what ?”

“Gale, you're dripping soup on your shirt.”

Olive tossed a clean rag at the wizard’s face with a grin. Gale quickly wiped the splatter on his shirt and turned back to Olive with a look of disbelief. Olive gave him a shrug.

“Your lack of self preservation is most alarming, I have to say. If he put a knife on you, just how on earth did you come to the conclusion of keeping him company?” Olive let out a laugh.

“Because I headbutted him.” Gale quirked an eyebrow. Olive pulled the knife from the board and started tossing it in the air and catching the blade between her tiefling claws.

“Astarion had me pinned on the ground. I was still tired from, you know, falling to my death. I didn't have much energy so all I could think was slamming my head on his. Worked,” Olive said with a cheeky smirk.

“Our rogue’s cocky streak was well present then, and as you know whenever that cockiness gets to an all time high,-” Olive tossed the knife a bit higher, letting it twirl in the air a few moments before her hand shot out to grab the handle into a fist. As easy as breathing. “-Astarion deserves to be pushed down a few pegs.”

Gale’s eyes had been following the knife before a realization dawned on him. “Wait, you said you left him initially? Why the change of heart?”

Olive looked up at the horizon, the sky burning its last orange light before the coming night. The air had gotten colder, making the campfire a wonderful reprieve.

“Because I headbutted him.” Gale blinked, turning the gears of his wizard brain to best understand the cryptic words of their leader. Nope, nothing came to mind.

“You headbutted him. That’s it? I understand you have a propensity to be a bit forgiving about our occasional misdeeds, especially from the rogue, but I can’t help but wonder if it's better to keep things reigned in.” Olive’s eye twitched at the accusation.

“Excuse you, that’s not my job, as much as you all like to make it.”

Gale gave Olive a doubtful look that Olive rolled her eyes back at. Olive looked down at the carrot she had left and pursed her lips. Ignoring the doubt, she grabbed the root and started chopping, steadying her hand with each push of the knife.

“When I managed to get out of his grasp, I noticed how weak he was. Maybe because of the tadpole or maybe falling from the sky. Regardless, he was desperate. Desperate enough to pull a knife on someone while coughing up blood. I wanted to leave him there, he wasn’t my problem. Just as I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel guilt.” Olive stopped chopping, eyes hardened as she contemplated her next words.

“Don’t get me wrong, I had no sympathy for Astarion,” Olive grumbled as she lifted her knife eye level, staring at the tiefling who stared back in the shiny blade.

“So many dead people on that beach. I didn’t find any survivors until Astarion. In his own twisted way, he was reaching out for help, for anything actually. I may not remember anything from my past but I know when I see someone who has desperately clawed for their survival for way too long. Long enough that a helping hand can seem like a hurting one. I think-” Olive paused for a moment, looking at her own black eyes in the blade, watching how the dark shadows swirled in her orbs.

“I think I saw myself in him, saw someone scared underneath the bravo and bite. Had I left him, would he still be alive or would the worst happen?” Olive gave Gale a quick glance before looking back at the disappearing sun. Gale did not know what to say.

“I did not know how much our fates would intertwine or how much we needed each other back then, but-,” Olive swung the knife on the last bit of the carrot, slicing it cleanly into two, and shoved the now even pieces into the cauldron. “-I got tired of corpses for company.”

“I hear that,” Gale said solemnly.

Olive took a moment to contemplate and let out a long sigh. Olive never realized how much that encounter changed her. Whether they turned into mindflayers now or died trying to be cured, one thing for certain was that Astarion had made a mark in her life. Olive shook her head with a soft chuckle.

“By the way, Gale, why did you suddenly bring him up?,”Olive asked curiously. The wizard gave her a surprised look.

“Oh you didn't know? Astarion has been-” Olive put a finger to her mouth, and made an imperceptive motion towards their back. Gale held his breath listening. There was sudden rustling getting louder and the familiar iron smell of blood.

In an instant, Olive grabbed the cooking knife and a bigger dagger that she had sheathed and threw them both behind her. They both heard the sound of blade hitting flesh and a loud yelp.

“BY THE TRIAD HOLD YOUR FIRE!! IT’S US! ”

Both of them turned to see their hunting group cautiously step out of the forest with a large collection of caught animals. Lae’zel carried multiple dead rabbits, all hanging by rope while flashing a clearly annoyed face at Olive. Wyll had a small boar in his arms, using it as a shield for the knife that was currently lodged deep in its carcass. Wyll seemed hesitant to step any further as he still held the boar up.

“Hells, this was not the welcome party I had expected. Who didn't you think we were?!” Olive put up a hand to apologize. “I heard a sound and smelled blood. Better to ask questions later than after getting mauled. Sorry.”

“Hmph, your aim has gotten better,“ Astarion mused with the click of his tongue.

He managed to catch her dagger between his fingers at the blade and was now tossing it around, not even having to look at it as he grabbed it by the sharp end with each throw. Olive frowned as she watched Astarion strut towards her, her dagger now his plaything. The tiefling marched closer to him and reached out to grab her dagger back.

“Speak of the devils,” Olive muttered under her breath. Astarion must have heard it as he flashed Olive a signature smile, pearly fangs and all.

“Oh darling, were you thinking of me? How honored I am to be laced within your delicious thoughts.”

Astarion took a step back to dodge Olive’s hand, his own still twirling the dagger between his fingers. His shit eating grin plastered his face, extremely amused by Olive's attempts at retrieving her weapon. Olive’s eyebrows twitched, wanting to give no satisfaction to the rogue.

“Please, we were talking about how soft your head became from just a smack.”

Olive jabbed Astarion by the ribs with her elbow, making him falter enough for her to catch her dagger midair. Astarion scowled, rubbing his ribs. He lowered his face closer to Olive's, baring his teeth, this time in contempt. Olive matched him as well, her eyes steely as her hand readied her dagger. The scent of aged brandy coming from his neck tickled Olive's nose. Olive’s scowl deepened, hiding any trace of how really felt about his scent. They both heard Lae’zel let out a huff and a curse.

“Do your hate mating in your own tents, away from our eyes. I rather dine on our hunted feast in peace.” Gale had to stifle a laugh while Olive’s jaw dropped. Wyll began scooting a bit further, hoping to avoid the coming incursion.

“In what kind of plane is this a mating ritual?!” She felt fingers sliding under her chin and pulling her head to look at Astarion, a smarmy grin reflecting how absolutely delighted he was. Olive ignored the little flip of her stomach made.

“Oh, I could oblige, darling. All you need to do is come to my tent~?” Olive took a moment to blink twice before she slammed her forehead on to his. Astarion let out a yelp while Olive huffed in satisfaction.

“Sorry, darling. I thought I saw a mosquito on your head.” Olive grabbed the boar from Wyll who gave Olive a look of appreciation- and maybe a tinge of fear. The tiefling brought the boar near the campfire and started skinning it as everyone else gathered by the fire to help prep the other caught prey.

Gale let out a cough. “So, about earlier. The reason I asked is because Astarion claimed that when your both had met, it was he who saved you. That you, and I quote ’fell in love with him the moment he swept your feet’ Obviously, none of us believed it so I wanted to hear your side of the story, which makes more sense, I might add.”

Olive’s head slowly turned to Gale, jaw clenched tight.

“He WHAT ?!” Olive jumped up from kneeling over the boar and snarled at Astarion.

“YOU LYING BLOOD SUCKING ARSE ?! DID I NOT SMACK YOUR HEAD ENOUGH?!” One look at Olive’s face was enough for Astarion to quickly get up from sitting and run off. Olive tailed behind him, her now bloody dagger ready to stab the elf.

Lae'zel watched them run off with a disapproving look.

“I truly will never understand this plane’s rituals.” Gale and Wyll nodded in agreement.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3ficfeb #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #astarion #astarion x durge #dark urge #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanart #bg3 dark urge #baldur's gate durge #one of my fav fics to write cause i love analyzing their relationship #salty art

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thefloatingstone · 1 year ago

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Question, so far in BG3 what do you think about each companion and who is your favorite ? Personally, like many, I pick Karlach !

I like the companions but I am still figuring them out (which is funny considering I have 50 hours into the game which is longer than the entirety of Mass Effect 1).

Lae'zel - Completely out of her depth culturally but at this point unaware of it. Very black and white in her thinking regard right and wrong... and yet surprisingly VERY quick to move someone from the "wrong" side in her head over to the "right" side. I was shocked by how she instantly liked Karlach the second Karlach explained her situation to us, and had 0 problem in immediately being like "this is a good one." despite her history. Thinks she's big and tough but is actually just a tsundere. Reminds me of Worf.

Gale - shockingly quick to latch on and trust people. To a degree that suggests he's a little bit desperate for affection. However it's not manipulative or anything, it's very genuine. He just trusts too quickly and will drink up any positive interaction like a man dying of thirst. possible praise kink.

Astarion - Like I said in the other post; essentially a cat that's been mistreated its whole life and will now swat and hiss at anyone trying to be nice to him simply out of fear. Constantly afraid but is hiding it behind sass or bitching. Only member left in the team who is still stuck on neutral in terms of relationship with Tav. Is constantly annoyed with me for being nice to the broken the beaten and the damned. Almost certainly because his experiences have taught him if you're not powerful you will be abused by those who are and it's upsetting to see someone who doesn't follow this internal logic of his. Needs a hug and a hot chocolate.

Wyll - Guy of all time. But he does come with hot demon mommy so that's a plus.

Shadowheart - obviously grew up a spoiled little princess by people who are actively grooming her for some fucked up religious role and have been telling her for her whole life that it's TOTALLY awesome and TOTALLY special and that she's TOTALLY special for being trained for it when really they're just brainwashing her into thinking getting used and and forced into something without her consent is something she actually wants and she should be proud of it. She hasn't figured this out yet tho and mostly still has amnesia about it which is 100% just more grooming. For some reason unlike my friend who found her insufferable and bratty, she's been very nice to me. Sucks to use in a fight tho.

Karlach - Ray of fucking sunshine. Somehow both the mom friend AND the little sister friend. Most purehearted member of the whole lot. Has the ADHD experience of literally vibrating in place but getting told by the entire world to "calm down" and "sit still". Uncomplicated but not in a bad way. Nothing but good vibes all the time. Has never had a bad thought about anybody. Deserves the fucking world.

#BG3 #I have not started the main quest yet so no spoilers pls and thank #C-Puff answers

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jynxeddraca · 2 years ago

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Baldur's Gate 3 Head canons

Hello hyperfixation, old friend. Here are some head canons I have about BG3. Note: I am not super versed on D&D lore, most of these are based on vibes, deeply held wants, and in one case influenced by someone's opinion about a possible goof of dates.

We all know Astarion has red eyes and is blatantly a vampire. But no one really notices in game. In game it is established that vampires have "charms" (I remember hearing it, but I can't remember who said it or if it was more in depth than that). I head canon that vampires have just a really strong passive charm that prevents people from noticing the super incredibly obvious tells that he's undead unless they already know, or are super perceptive. For his eyes: people just think his eyes are brown and any red they think they see is just "a trick of the light".

I think the events of the game take place along the span of like 4-6 months from the characters' perspectives, and the areas of interest are not nearly so close to each other as they are in the game map.

Dammon is the only person in the game who has his shit together. You cannot convince me otherwise.

Shadowheart - after the events of the game - ends up as a plant mom with Lae'zel. I will not hear to the contrary.

The owlbear cub is charmed offscreen - probably by Gale or Halsin - to look like a large dog and that's how they get away with sneaking him into Baldur's Gate which apparently have very strict laws about what animals are allowed in the city. No I have not gotten that far in the game so I have no idea if it's addressed.

The owlbear is actually named by the camp rather than going by 'the owlbear cut'. I'm thinking Thorn - because it's my head canon and I can pick those kinds of things, but also because 'Scratch' and 'Thorn' go together.

After the events of the game most everyone in the party goes back to the blighted village to rebuild and also taking Scratch and the Owlbear cub with them.

Withers doesn't physically travel with the group. When they pack up he just ups and vanishes when no one is looking, when they set up camp he appears and it low-key makes everyone a little uncomfortable.

Volo claims the bag man (D&D lore (?) he lives in the dimension the bag of holdings use and takes an adventurer near a random bag every night) is real, Gale decides that it might actually be real because "our lives are indeed that weird", Wyll tries to convince him it's not real, and Lae'zel is just deeply confused and just sharpens her sword in case.

SPOILER HEAD CANONS:

Karlach's heart is 100% fixable and she comes back from Avernus. I will not hear to the contrary.

When Karlach's heart is fixed, she teams up with Wyll and they travel across the countryside defeating monsters and saving people together and fall in love.

Since Astarion is just shy of 200 years (This one I actually have a reason why I think this) he is eligible to use the Scroll of Total Resurrection to become mortal again.

Gale finds out that he has the Ring of the Sun-Walker and gives it to Astarion so he can live in the sun again post-tadpole.

#BG3 #baldur's gate 3 #Astarion #Karlach #Shadowheart #Lae'zel #Wyll #Gale #Withers #head canons #spoilers #I am only mostly through act 1 #And now my computer has given up the ghost #I cannot play until I get a new computer #So I head canon #I have also been spoiled for a lot of the plot #Because I must know

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podcastenthusiast · 2 years ago

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BG3 (Astarion centric) Fic Recs

It's that time again. First, a shamless promo for my fics. Now onward to the real gems.

Reflecting Endless Down the Hall by Asidian

If he turns to watch as Cazador gulps down the meal, Astarion will have to think about it. If he thinks about it, he'll have to acknowledge the smell. If he acknowledges the smell, strong and rich and intoxicating, he'll have to think about how much he wants it. How much his stomach has tied itself into knots at even the thought of a taste. How his teeth ache, and saliva floods his mouth, and how if he could wrench back even the barest scrap of control, he could bend down and lap at some of the precious liquid drying on his own hand. He can't, of course. So he swallows, and he forces down the endless hollow ache inside him, and he does his very best not to look as Cazador takes his time over a young woman who had been, up until three hours hence, a vapid, lovely young thing in a ruffled dress with quite a knack for dancing. -

A series of vignettes that will parallel Astarion's past life with Cazador versus the the way he finds himself living after awakening on the beach in the sunlight.

sunrise, with hope its arrogant rider by edelgarfield

Astarion stares down his nose with that familiar haughty glare. “I suppose that makes us even, now.”

You search his face, trying to find the missing piece that will make the puzzle take shape. You think of what little he’s told you about his life before this strange journey of yours. A cruel master that delighted in his pain and two hundred years of being brought to heel.

It comes to you in a dizzying rush. “You think I left you there as punishment.”

Astarion accidentally, kinda-sorta drains your blood and leaves you for dead. Three weeks later, you drop a monastery on him. You refuse to let the story end there.

bloodlust by KathrynShadow

Liar, blazing across her mind, the first clear thought she’s had so far. It’s almost a relief to be so certain of something, so she lets it go.

Bourbon, Blood, and Backward Glances by GreyscaleCourier

“Lovely.” Your master smiles with teeth. “Astarion, will you be joining us?” You keep your eyes on the floor but you have been addressed and you will answer. There is only one answer. “I would be honored. Thank you, Master.” or, Astarion brings groceries home and feels bad about it. Not bad enough to risk solitary confinement again, but kinda bad :/

Casual Banter by death_frisbee

A party like this one is bound to result in some interesting conversations.

The Dawnbringer and the Day Walker by LunaristicTides

A vampire and a cleric of Lathander fall in love until one decision ruins everything. Five years later, she's called upon to face the biggest regret of her life and she'll stop at nothing to fix it, but it might just shatter the rest of the world.

Silver-Tongue by starkraving

Astarion fast-talks an abnormal number of enemies into killing themselves in the shadow-cursed lands and the team makes idle (then less idle) conversation about it. It’s completely fine and doesn’t bother him at all and it absolutely doesn’t draw additional questions about why he does what he does for the team... and what they in turn would do for him. IE: Origin-run Astarion fic because its interesting to me how the party reacts to their vampire buddy if he doesn’t have Tav to be a social buffer for him. Act 2 content and spoilers.

Strange Smile by starkraving

Wyll, Karlach, and Lae’zel speak with a Gur monster hunter in a bog and Astarion happens to be there. It’s a very awkward way to get outted as a vampire to your (mostly) unsuspecting teammates. AKA: Tav-less party jumps the team rogue and holds him down for questioning. It's fine.

Echo by miraculan

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

Astarion dropped his arm with a huff despite his surprise, wondering where he might have crossed paths with him before the ship. Maybe a regular at some city tavern that watched him vanish for more than a day or two and assumed the worst. Maybe a sword for hire that took jobs from Cazador that saw him get hauled off by Godey. Definitely not anyone Astarion spent an evening with, or he wouldn't be standing here to ask stupid questions.

"I'm trying to ambush you and you're making it harder than it needs to be." He sighed, not letting the words sink in before drawing his knife and pivoting, only for it to be harmlessly swatted out of his hand and into the sand by the stranger's off-hand scimitar quicker than he heard it being drawn. Fuck. This entire encounter was going badly. Embarrassingly so.

Like Stones, floatingvon Water by Cirrocumulus

He watches, his thoughts a jumbled mess of malice and mirth, as the poor vendor sweats and stammers.

Every needle and thread he ever owned he did unspeakable acts for, just to keep the clothes on his back from fraying, from flaying the way his skin so often did.

He sees as his companion lowballs the merchant and yet the trade is made, and the fine satin fabric is hers for the taking.

She gifts it to him with a smile, and he knows not how to react. ~*~ Or: Five times Astarion is reminded of owning nothing, and five times his traveling companion gifts him trinkets to change that.

A Little Mishap by Asidian

When the dust clears – and it is a frightful amount of dust, all told – Astarion is marginally surprised to see that no one has been left a bloody smear on the cave floor.

Really, he can't be blamed for assuming the worst. The boulder is the size of the tunnel, nearly, the sort of impending doom that ranks with gale-force winds and approaching dragons on the list of things that might inspire a man to pray to any gods kind enough to lend an ear. Astarion isn't that sort – any god who might have granted him a boon has had centuries of prayers they might have chosen to answer before this, after all – and yet here they stand, miraculously intact, as though some deity just so happened to have glanced their way at just this moment.

Perhaps Wyll is a religious man

Liberty and Her Ghosts by timeboundpythia

"They do insist on asking me how I feel."

Seducere by Tlon

Astarion doesn’t need a reflection to know himself – two hundred years of servitude has shown him exactly what he’s good for. Odd that his new partner seems to disagree.

Or, five times Astarion regretted being seen over the past centuries, and one time he didn’t.

Broken Mechanism by laquearia

He’s the prickly sort, their resident rogue—sharper than any briar patch and twice as vicious. His words can carve deeper than his daggers despite their feigned placidity, all honey-sweet syllables and lengthy non-answers that often mean nothing at all. He darlings and my dears them, and sometimes he’s almost convincing enough to fool them into thinking they’ve had a real conversation when the only thing he’s shared is how bland the weather’s been and that he enjoys red wine over white.

Most of the group has given up trying to wheedle anything substantial out of him. Nothing more than a waste of time and energy, Shadowheart told Tav a few days prior. He’s never serious about anything, and even if he was, I doubt he’d tell us.

Astarion’s words echo in Tav’s mind, all cut glass consonants and pure, unbridled desperation: don’t touch me.

This time is different.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Nebulad

He didn't know how long he stayed down there. He didn't need air, but he needed blood. His hunger went from a static hum in the back of is head to a roaring thunder, pounding against the back of his eyes and making drool run down his jaw and uncomfortably into the neck of the stiff formal wear he was wearing. He hadn't been dressed particularly finely that night in the manor: who had changed his clothes? Where was he?

His brain rejected the answer on the tip of his tongue.

kindred by aevallare

And it's then, with his fingers buried inside her and her back scraping against the bark of the tree, that she looks into his eyes and sees –

Nothing. Like he isn't even there.

"Stop," she says, breath ragged with pleasure that feels like poison.

He might be the most beautiful creature that she's ever seen, bathed in this moonlight, and the wicked smirk he puts on only strengthens his case. "What, darling? That close already?"

“You don't want this,” she says simply, still out of breath, and for the first time since she’s met him, Astarion seems speechless. -

auri knows people, and that's how she can tell; astarion is deeply, deeply fucked up.

no one will love me like you again by FlowerCitti

Karlach smiles at him as the sun begins to set, her eyes softening around the corners, a nervous look flickering over her features. And Astarion is already expecting what comes next, but it still feels like shards of ice blooming behind his ribs.

“Do you think I can sleep in your tent tonight? Now that I can’t hurt you or set the damn thing on fire.” She asks with a breathy chuckle, an uncharacteristic anxiety making her shift on her feet, her bottom lip caught under her teeth. He has no disillusions on what her words could mean. She’s not likely looking to do much sleeping when she is free to touch him now. (Or, Karlach can freely touch the people she loves now. Astarion makes a few wrong assumptions.)

innocence died screaming by FlowerCitti

Astarion feels like a starving fox released into a pen of chickens.

His lean fingers pick at his cravat, easing out invisible wrinkles, his tongue tracing along his own fangs. His eyes dart over the street, his head full of new scents and sounds, pounding at the back of his skull. He can taste the pulses of the people that pass him by, can smell the blood that rushes through their veins, intoxicating in its temptation.

He feels like a ravenous animal, a stalking predator just barely blending in amongst a sea of prey. But whoever he finds, Cazador had instructed for them to still be breathing by the time Astarion brings them back. He can’t rip the throat from the first thing he sees, no matter how much he finds himself aching to. There’s an impossible emptiness inside of him now, a growing abyss, and he finds himself wanting. (Or, Astarion and the prince who swept him off his feet after he had already given up on happy endings.)

suck the rot right out of my bloodstream by FlowerCitti

Astarion moves his legs just slightly to press against Casmir’s broad shoulder, a teasing point of contact. The tiefling doesn’t shift away.

But his hands still haven’t moved to tend to Astarion’s wound.

“Can I touch you?”

Astarion stares at them for a few moments, meeting that burning gaze, fanned by thick lashes. People don’t often ask him that—they just do. It didn’t matter whether he wanted them to or not, only that he was a pretty thing they wanted to get their hands on.

He shakes his head before he can fade away into bad memories, blinking several times. He smirks instead, slipping into flirtation easily, eyes lidded and something like revulsion at himself bubbling in his gut, “As much as you’d like, my dear.” (Or, Astarion has had his consent revoked for over two centuries. Then he meets Casmir.)

where the light won't find you by AndyAO3

Rather like a frog being slowly brought to a boil, by the time Astarion realizes he's doomed himself, it's already too late.

sating the hunger by Velwyn

He wanted to know more about him – he needed to. He wasn’t sure if it was the charm or the mysterious air Astarion played up that peaked his interest more, but Gale was eager to pry him open – to get past that book cover and discover what secret knowledge he would uncover in those pages.

Pretending to be People by Fr0g_king

The night was going off without a hitch; hunted someone down, brought them back, headed for the dorms. And then Cazador requested he join him for dinner, and, well, nothing was ever pain-free with Cazador.

I'm Up, I'm Up by baozisdragon

People don't expect Karlach to be very observant.

the bitter darkness, the flickering illusion by arenathesia

“Straight or serrated?” Godey can barely speak, his misshapen jaw swallowing half his words and his glee drowning out the other half. Astarion understands him though, as easily as breathing, and Cazador is no different.

“No need to make it easy for ourselves,” his master responds.

(Just when he thinks he understands his master, has seen the furthest depths of his cruelty, Astarion is grabbed by the throat and dragged deeper in.)

Butterfly Caught by myristica

Right. Get the moonlantern, kill some cultists. Cultists that are completely evil and not people driven by circumstance to try to find some sense of belonging. Don’t think too hard about it. *** Trauma-bonding with the sad spiderboi and sad biteyboi.

Scorch by 1Ced0Ateram1

Astarion and Karlach try to unwind after a difficult day on the road. Burnt flesh and charred clothes might just be a fair trade for a kiss.

one of thousands by nachttour

A contemplation about living with someone who has a hard time saying no, who has a hard time accepting 'safe' touch from others that he is not directly in charge of; and a larger contemplation about what it is like to love someone who will never move along in time with you.

A small story considering how one Tav out of many Tavs in many worlds acclimates to living with Asterion after the events of BG3.

Will add more as I read more!

The Light of The Seven by Verelia

Cazador Szarr calls his home a palace. Cazador Szarr calls himself a father.

The palace is a prison. The father is a cruel master to the seven spawn he sired. And the siblings--

They were each others' brothers, sisters, enemies, tormentors, victims, shoulders to cry on, hands to hold, eyes to blacken, and yet--the only ones who understood.

Quick Step by starkraving

As more and more people join the party – all of them adventurers of some repute or renown – Astarion becomes all that more disposable in comparison. He endeavors to keep up or be left behind. (Because of course they will leave him behind. Right?) AKA: Act 1 Astarion’s race from a true level one character to team rogue and the rest of the team's reactions to that.

cause my love (is mine, all mine) by mahoushoujochan

After the Nautiloid crash, it feels like everyone has gone their own way, though there’s still so much to do to help the city. But even more importantly: there’s so much that Tav must do to help her friends.

In which Tav and Astarion look to heal a sun allergy, a recovering city, seven thousand bloodthirsty vampires, and maybe themselves along the way. Except there are no shortcuts to healing or learning how to love.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #cj's fic recs

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mumms-the-word · 10 months ago

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In Fathoms Below - Ch. 8

Ch. 8 - Cloakers

Characters: Gale, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Gortash + other OCs; pairing is Gale x fem!Tav Plot: The island city of Nautera disappeared over 4500 years ago, if it ever existed at all. Now not a single, legitimate record of Nautera exists, save for one. The Nauterran Account. Long thought lost, it has recently been retrieved from the depths of Candlekeep’s archives and placed into the capable hands of one Gale Dekarios. With the Nauterran Account in hand and an eclectic team of Baldurians and other allies mounting an official expedition, Gale journeys to find the ruins of Nautera…but hopes to find so much more. A/N: You guys voted and now we're here! Time for a cheeky Underdark encounter with a few beasties. Hopefully everyone makes it out alive. But you'll have to read on to find out!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | BG3 Masterlist | Read on AO3

Gale gave a small bow in deference to Minthara—she was the general after all—before he left to go find Karlach. Thus far on the trip, Karlach had been the one person he could honestly call friend, even after so short a time together. The others were warming up to him slowly too, he supposed, or perhaps he was warming to them. He wasn’t certain. But Karlach had been a constant warm presence down here in the Underdark, both literally and metaphorically.

He found her lounging against a rock with Wyll, both of them chatting and taking swigs of water from their canteens. Since arriving in the Underdark, both Karlach and Wyll had taken to wearing a weapon at nearly all times, except when bedding down for the night. Karlach had a large, lethal-looking battleaxe strapped to her back now, while Wyll had taken to sheathing a rapier at his side. Neither of them had used their weapons yet, aside from Wyll practicing his parries and ripostes or what-have-you before bedtime, but both seemed to think it was only a matter of time.

Karlach smiled and waved Gale over as he approached. “Just in time, Gale. You always miss the best stories from Wyll here. He was about to tell me about a fight he had against a wyvern or something.”

“A wyvern?” Gale asked, raising his eyebrows. “Was this some sort of…nobleman’s sport or…?”

Karlach laughed, while Wyll merely looked a touch sheepish and proud at the same time. “Well, actually, it happened during my time as the Blade of Frontiers,” he admitted. “That’s what I’ve been doing the last few years. Hunting monsters, fighting brigands, that sort of thing.”

“A hero of the Sword Coast, the Blade of Frontiers is,” Karlach said, nudging Wyll with her elbow. He merely chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, though Gale could tell he took pride in the name.

“I had no idea,” Gale said. Then again, glancing at Wyll’s scars, he ought to have known. The scars he bore were from battles and monster fights, not noblemen’s duels and slumming adventures. They were scars from his time as the Blade, not as the son of Duke Ulder Ravengard. “Your, ah…reputation hadn’t yet reached Waterdeep, I’m afraid.”

“One day it will,” Wyll said breezily. “Anyway, what did you need?”

“Minthara wants Karlach to accompany me to scout ahead and find a new path for us,” Gale said. “Shadowheart, too.”

“Sounds like a party. Mind if I tag along?”

“Ooh, say yes, Gale,” Karlach said, brightening. “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen Wyll here fight.”

“And you have?” Wyll asked, grinning at her.

“Well, no, but your stories are amazing. I bet you could go toe-to-toe with a dragon and come out just fine.”

Wyll laughed and even Gale had to smile at their banter. Karlach made fast friends with everyone, it seemed.

“And if there’s nothing to fight?” Gale asked.

“Then we can find something to fight,” Karlach said, like this was the only obvious answer. “Besides, I hear Astarion’s been lurking around. Maybe we’ll run into him.”

Gale tilted his head. “How did you know that?”

“I told her,” Wyll said. “All the signs are there. The dead creatures, mainly, each of them completely bloodless. I think he’s sticking close to us. Though whether that’s for protection or to eventually make us his prey…” He trailed off with a shrug.

“Hmm…well if we’re about to encounter a vampire, perhaps having a monster hunter on our side wouldn’t hurt,” Gale said. “That just leaves Shadowheart, then.”

“I’ll get her,” Karlach said. “Meet you up front!”

She waved to them both and jogged away, heading toward the back of the convoy. Wyll shook his head fondly, watching her go. “Ah Karlach. I doubt even the darkest depths of the Lower Dark could dim her spark.”

Gale glanced sidelong at Wyll, noting the fondness in the younger man’s eyes as he watched Karlach’s flame-flickering form disappear down the convoy, toward the medic carts. Gale smiled faintly to himself and kept his opinions quiet.

“We’d best head toward the front, then,” he said instead. “We’ll meet our drow scout there. I really ought to learn his name…”

Moments later, Gale, Karlach, Wyll, and Shadowheart fell in step behind the drow scout, whose name was Nevrin, though he had parted with that name tersely and quietly when Gale asked. Together, they left the convoy behind and ventured deeper into the awaiting tunnels. As the darkness enveloped them, Gale cast dancing lights around them to help illuminate their way forward.

Nevrin scoffed. “Humans,” he muttered under his breath. “Now everything down here will spot us.”

“Oh, let it come,” Karlach said. “We can take whatever it is. Besides, they would have seen me anyway.” She gestured vaguely to herself, indicating the softly-glowing vents in her shoulder and the pulsing glow of her engine beneath her skin.

Nevrin merely made a soft hmph and continued on.

Gale cast a slow look around them as they walked through the passage. These tunnels appeared rough-hewn by tools, not naturally forming, so clearly they were on the right path. Though he couldn’t help but wonder when they were made, and whether they were made by the githyanki explorers or the author of the Account, who had journeyed down here to try and find Nautera’s ruins. He supposed in the end it didn’t matter, so long as there was a road to follow.

But sure enough, after several moments of walking, they reached a cave-in blocking the majority of their path. Rocks and boulders of varying sizes lay in a heap from floor to ceiling, the source of the cave-in lost behind them. There appeared to be a thin route along the right-hand side, spaces where they could see the possibility of the path continuing beyond, but on the left, a crude, burrowed passage disappeared into the darkness, leading off to some unknown space.

“Too bad we didn’t bring Halsin,” Shadowheart said, eyeing the gaps in the rocks on the right. “He could have turned into a mouse or something and scurried on ahead to see if the path continues on the other side.”

“Perhaps you can illuminate the space beyond?” Gale asked. “Then we could see what we may be working with.”

Shadowheart pursed her lips, as if she didn’t want to respond to Gale directly, but then shrugged. “I suppose. One moment.”

She climbed up onto the rocks and stuck her arm down one of the larger spaces, whispering a light spell. Light shone out through the gaps between the rocks, but when Shadowheart squinted through them to the other side, now illuminated, she retreated with a shake of her head.

“No use. Everything just keeps getting blocked the farther you go. We’d spend days trying to dig out this path.”

“We do have a lot of smokepowder,” Karlach suggested. “Plus the gnomes’ constructs are rothé. Aren’t they supposed to be good at clearing rubble or something?”

“Wouldn’t they just get damaged trying to unblock the path?” Gale asked. But Karlach merely shrugged, unsure.

“Let’s investigate out other option first, before we make any decisions,” Wyll suggested, gesturing to the left. “Shall we?”

“Smart thinking. Lead the way, Mr. Blade,” Karlach said. Wyll chuckled.

“Just Wyll is fine.”

They were mostly quiet as they ventured farther down the passageway, though the air between them was generally comfortable...Nevrin's serious demeanor aside. The walls here were rougher, with signs, even to Gale’s untrained eyes, to suggest that claws and other bestial markings had created this tunnel, rather than ancient tools. Gale wasn’t sure he wanted to meet whatever it was that was capable of carving through rock like this. Hopefully it was long gone and not lying in wait at the end of this tunnel.

The passageway eventually widened out into another cavern, this one made up of a series of rocky platforms that seemed to have shifted and broken over time, their rubble lying along the cavern floor in the gaps between platforms. Gigantic flat mushrooms grew along the cavern walls and on the sides of these platforms, glowing softly in blues and reds. Wyll and Nevrin split off from the rest of them, with Nevrin deftly climbing onto a series of wide mushrooms while Wyll clambered up the rocks onto a platform. They both peered into the darkness toward the other end of the small cavern.

“No luck,” Wyll said. “Unless Nevrin sees something I don’t, I think this place is a dead end.”

“There is a small cave on the far side,” Nevrin said. “But I do not think our wagons can fit through it.”

“Not without magic, in any case,” Gale said, already thinking of solutions. Levitation spells to get the carts across the platforms and mushrooms, spells to make everything smaller for a short time…

“Will it lead us back to the original path, though?” Shadowheart asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Karlach said, flashing her a smile. She climbed up to join Wyll and then pointed to a nearby mushroom that spanned the distance between her current rocky platform and the next. “These are safe to walk on, right, Nev?”

“It’s Nevrin,” the drow said, scowling. “But yes. Usually.”

Karlach had already hopped onto the mushroom when she froze and looked over at him. “Wait, usually?”

He simply shrugged and didn't elaborate. Karlach half-rolled her eyes, though she didn’t seem particularly annoyed, and jumped to the next platform.

“Come on, then,” she said, turning and beckoning to the others as she walked backward along the platform. “Last one to the cave is a rotten—”

Her voice cut off as she stumbled back over something and fell backward. She let out a surprised yelp as the ground below her hissed and moved—only for a giant stringray-like creature to raise its wings out from underneath her.

“Karlach!” Wyll yelled.

She rolled quickly to one side, off of the creature and over the edge of the platform. She fell a short way down and landed hard, her knees buckling briefly, but kept on her feet. On the platform, the creature flew upward and spread its wide, leathery wings with a sharp hiss. Though its face was mostly obscured by the semi-darkness, even Gale recognized the creature from old bestiaries he’d glanced through during his studies at Blackstaff.

“A cloaker,” Wyll said, drawing his sword. “Careful, it can—”

“Less talking, Wyll, more fighting,” Shadowheart snapped, summoning a ball of glowing, golden light to her hands. Taking quick aim, she lobbed it at the cloaker. It shattered against its leathery hide with a shower of golden light, causing it to hiss and recoil.

Karlach unlatched the battleaxe from her back and got into a fighting stance. “Come on, then, bring the fight down here ya fucker!”

Instead, the cloaker flew upward near the stone ceiling and let out an ear-piercing screech. In the darkness of the cavern, only partly illuminated by Gale’s dim dancing lights and the glowing mushrooms, they could hear other creatures stirring and taking flight.

“Watch out!” Wyll warned, but it was too late.

A large, dark shadow swooped down from one of the upper platforms toward Karlach, wrapping around her from behind. Her battleaxe clattered to the ground with a metallic ring as the cloaker pinned her arms to her body and wrapped its tail three times around her legs. They both fell in a struggling mass, Karlach wrapped up in the cloaker like a black cocoon. When Wyll tried to run to the edge of his platform to help, another cloaker flew upward at him, blocking his path. He swore loudly and flung out a hand with a sharp dolor! Sickly green energy blasted outward from his hands, slamming into the cloaker and sending it reeling backward.

Gale didn’t have time to be surprised at Wyll’s sudden use of magic. His allies were in danger. He summoned a fireball to his hand, ready to cast at the cloaker, only to hesitate—what if he hurt Karlach? Or Wyll, if he tried to help Wyll? What if he couldn’t remember how to sculpt his spells to protect his companions? It had been well over a year since he'd been in battle; the last time had been before he'd acquired the orb and all its cursed side effects. He suddenly felt about as skilled as a young apprentice.

He clenched his teeth as the doubt drowned out rational thought. He stopped the spell and switched to a simple firebolt, aiming for the cloaker smothering Karlach as she struggled to escape the suffocating grip of the beast’s wings. He just needed an opening—

But he waited a fraction of a second too long. Another cloaker appeared near Nevrin, swiping his feet out from under him with its tail, and then screeched, summoning three more around Gale. Gale stumbled back, throwing his firebolt at the nearest one to him, but it dodged easily. The next one flew at his legs, knocking him off his feet. The third loomed over him, ready to smother him, but he conjured a chromatic orb of lightning and threw it right into its face. The lightning hit and skittered over the creature, causing it to screech and then disappear.

A phantom. A copy of the cloaker, easily defeated by just one hit, but just as capable of dealing damage and just as deadly as a normal cloaker. If the other cloakers had the same idea—

But of course, they did. Screeches rang out around the cavern as other cloakers called phantoms into being, surrounding all five of them.

“Karlach!” Wyll yelled again, dispatching a phantom with another eldritch blast. “I’m coming!” But as soon as a second phantom fell to his blade, a third phantom, along with another cloaker, swooped in for another attack. Shadowheart was soon at his side, blocking one of them with her shield, but soon the two of them were surrounded, trapped on their platform.

Still on the ground, Gale fired off four magic missiles to take care of the two phantoms nearest him, and then rolled over and scrambled to his hands and knees, just in time to see another figure leap down from a platform near Karlach. White-haired and pale, the figure landed on both cloaker and Karlach with two daggers in each hand, stabbing downward into the cloaker’s hide. The cloaker writhed and shrieked, unfolding its wings to try and shake off its attacker, but the figure held on, wrenching one dagger free before stabbing it back down.

Karlach rolled away and snatched up her battleaxe. As soon as she was on her feet, she lifted the axe high and shouted, “Watch your head, fangs!”

The figure—Astarion—wrenched his daggers free and leaped away, just as Karlach brought her axe down over the head of the cloaker, chopping its head clean off its body. The head bounced away with a dull thud as the body collapsed, jolting once before going still.

But the battle wasn’t over. Nevrin struggled to duck and dodge the attacks of another cloaker and its two remaining phantoms, while Shadowheart and Wyll battled two more. A cry in the distance told them more were coming, sweeping through the darkness. Gale scrambled to his feet as Karlach hauled Astarion up. They barely glanced at one another before separating to rejoin the fight.

Gale couldn’t get the upper hand of any creature down on the cavern floor, so he misty stepped up onto a platform well above the fight. From there, he gathered more lightning in his hands and aimed it at one of the cloakers attempting to bite and attack Wyll and Shadowheart.

“Perure!”

Blue lightning illuminated the cavern with brilliant light as it blasted forth from his hands, heading straight for the cloaker. The air suddenly smelled of ozone and tasted of metal, but Gale focused on shaping the spell so that its only target—its only victim—would be the cloaker. It shuddered and shrieked as the lightning struck it and caused it to seize up, tiny crackles of lightning flitting around its body before it hit the ground in a smoking, lifeless heap. Two of its phantoms instantly disappeared.

Both Wyll and Shadowheart cast surprised looks up in Gale’s direction. He spared them a half-hearted wave before pointing behind them. “Watch out!”

They both were back in the fight in an instant, blocking the next creature that flew down to bite or capture them.

Down below Gale, Astarion and Nevrin worked in tandem, with Astarion feinting and dodging its attacks while Nevrin went in with his blades. One phantom fell to their strategy, and soon the cloaker itself was dead, too. Wyll and Shadowheart made quick work of their last cloaker, using a combination of Wyll’s sword, Shadowheart’s mace, and both of their magics, while Gale misty-stepped closer near Karlach, who was going solo against a cloaker and one of its phantoms. A well-aimed chromatic orb of fire dispatched the phantom while another guiding bolt from Shadowheart and a wide-arcing hit from Karlach’s axe silenced the final cloaker forever.

Then all was still. The cavern seemed oddly quiet, the noises of their battle fading in distant echoes around them, leaving naught but the six of them panting and looking at each other.

“Is everyone all right?” Gale asked.

Karlach, just a few feet away, nodded and turned her axe blade-side down, planting the head of it into the ground and leaning against the handle. “Phew…nothing like a quick turn with a few beasties to get your heart going, right? Just me?”

“Careful,” Shadowheart said, moving to the edge of where she stood on a platform with Wyll. Her eyes were on a wide mushroom across the way. “We might not be done with all the beasties just yet.”

Gale turned to look up at the mushroom, only to find Nevrin standing with his sword at Astarion’s throat. The vampire stood with his hands up, near his chest, his daggers on the ground at his feet.

Astarion had the good grace to try and alter his grimace into a charming smile. “Is all this really necessary?” he asked. “After all, we were working as a team just now.”

“You were a convenient distraction for the creature, nothing more, spawn,” Nevrin said. “That does not mean I owe you my life, nor have any cause to trust you.”

“Hang on, you can’t hurt him,” Karlach protested, straightening up. “He just helped us out.”

“But why?” Nevrin asked, his red-eyed gaze never leaving Astarion. “He must want something from us.”

“Perhaps if you let me speak, we can come to an arrangement?” Astarion suggested, lifting a finger to edge the sword just a tiny bit away from his neck. Nevrin sneered and pressed the blade even closer. A thin line of blood ran down the column of Astarion’s throat. He swallowed, growing still, and flicked his eyes toward Karlach and Gale. The silent question, or perhaps plea, in his eyes was clear.

“Nevrin, wait,” Gale said, stepping forward. “Let us handle the vampire. You go scout the cave ahead and see if it connects back to the main path. While you scout ahead, we’ll determine what should be done about him.”

The drow flicked his gaze briefly to Gale and then back to Astarion. “And why should I take orders from you, iblith?”

Gale frowned. He had a point, but it didn’t make his remark, or his insult, any less irritating. “Perhaps because Minthara gave me leave to decide what to do with him if we encountered him. Or did she not impart that specific detail to you before we left? If you doubt me, ask her yourself upon our return.”

It was a bit of a bluff and a bit of a lie, but Gale was hoping that the drow would weigh the risks of asking Minthara to explain her orders and decide against angering her. He held his breath, waiting to see if his words had any effect. After a moment, the drow relented, slowly lowering his blade and glaring at Astarion.

“Fine,” he said, sheathing his blade. “But if I return and find one or most of you dead, I will report to the Nightwarden that it was due to your own foolish mistakes.”

He turned on his heel and retreated toward the back of a cave, to an inky black spot that was darker than the rest of the surrounding darkness. The cave, Gale assumed. Soon he was entirely out of sight.

Astarion rubbed his throat with a wince before bending to retrieve his daggers. Tucking them into his belt, he hopped down from the mushroom to the cavern floor below and walked over to Karlach and Gale looking, if anything, a little sheepish.

“I suppose a thank you is in order,” he said, glancing between them.

“A thank you?” Karlach asked. “I should be thanking you. You saved my life out there. I’d probably be dead, or closer to dead, if you hadn’t swooped in when you did.”

“Yes, well, don't expect heroics like that all the time. Consider it…” He trailed off, looking conflicted a moment before lowering his gaze with a slight clearing of his throat. “Consider it repayment for…well, saving my life on the submersible. You could have easily left me to drown or be blasted to pieces aboard that wretched thing, but you…took me with you, instead.”

He frowned, as if he couldn’t quite puzzle out why Karlach had done such a thing. After a moment he shook his head slightly, as if clearing his thoughts, and looked up at them again. “Honestly, I think you're probably a little mad for doing that. And I know you're all mad for whatever the hells it is you're trying to do down here. But I’m grateful for not dying in a horrible underwater explosion nonetheless.”

“Aww…consider us even, then, fangs,” Karlach said, smacking him affectionately on the shoulder. Astarion flinched at the blow and then rubbed his arm with a kind of pained smile. “Oops. Sorry, Astarion. Don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

“Clearly,” he said, glancing down at the dead cloaker nearest them.

“Is that why you’ve been following us?” Wyll asked, as he and Shadowheart joined them on the cavern floor. “So you could say thank you to Karlach?”

Astarion gave an awkward chuckle. “Well…actually I’ve been following you because I don’t know where else to go. You seem to be heading toward some specific location, so I figured, why not tag along? In the shadows, of course, and only until I find somewhere better to be. I know when I’m not welcome.”

“Well you’re welcome now, if you want to join us,” Karlach said.

“Hold on, we can’t just adopt a vampire in the middle of an expedition like this,” Shadowheart said. “What would Gortash say? Or Minthara? And aren’t those blades from the weapons supply?” She pointed at the daggers he had tucked into his belt.

Karlach waved this off. “We have plenty more blades. As for Gortash and Minthara, we’ll talk them into it. Astarion’s on our side now, isn’t that right, fangs?”

“Er…in a manner of speaking,” Astarion said reluctantly.

“And who is going to volunteer to feed him?” Shadowheart asked, crossing her arms. “I don’t exactly relish the thought of any of us having to become this vampire’s bloodbag.”

The question gave them all pause. Karlach scratched the side of her cheek, looking apologetic.

“Well I can’t do it,” she said. “I’d burn you to a crisp, Astarion. Sorry.”

All eyes turned to Gale next. He felt a chill at their expectant gazes and couldn’t help but rub the mark on his chest out of habit. It seemed to ache at the very thought, as though reminding him of its presence.

“I, er…have a blood disease, I’m afraid,” he said. “I doubt he’d find my blood very nourishing. Or tasty, for that matter.”

He tried to ignore the way their looks turned to curiosity or doubt. But he was speaking the truth…mostly. Since the orb sat so close to his heart, it had slowly tainted his blood over time. He’d known that for well over a year, now. He could taste the bitter acidity himself, when he mindlessly gnawed a hole in the inside of his cheek while studying, or when he cut his finger while cooking and licked the blood away out of habit. He bled as red as any other man, but internally, he was altered. Poisoned.

Blighted.

He met Astarion’s gaze, trying to look sincere. Though the pale elf looked a little doubtful, something in Gale’s expression must have convinced him. He turned his crimson gaze toward Wyll and Shadowheart instead.

“I suppose that leaves me, then,” Wyll said thoughtfully. “Assuming we can’t find anyone else.”

“Not to sound ungrateful,” Astarion said, holding up his hands. “I appreciate the sweet offer, but I’d rather not make more enemies out of the lot of you than I already have. And if I recall, they say you’re the son of one of Baldur’s Gate’s grand dukes. I’d hate to anger anyone’s daddy back home.”

“‘Daddy’ has already toss me out in my ear,” Wyll said, crossing his arms. “I don’t think it’s possible to disappoint him more than I already have.”

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with your being a warlock, would it?” Gale asked, curious despite himself.

Wyll just shrugged. “It’s a long story, and not an important one. The point is, Astarion, I don’t mind giving you some of my blood every now and again. Really. So long as Shadowheart or Halsin can give me a pick-me-up on the days you need to feed, that is.” He glanced over at Shadowheart as he said this.

She sighed through her nose. “Oh...fine. Since you’re all so determined to keep him. Just as long as he keeps those fangs well away from me.”

“Noted, darling,” Astarion said, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “I won't bite where I'm not wanted. Promise.”

“Well, now that that's settled,” Gale said, eager to move on. “We should get back to the task at hand, shall we?”

“Which was…?” Astarion glanced around at the rest of them.

“Finding a way through or around that blockage in the main passageway. Ideally we'd like to say on the ancient paths down here.”

“Ah, well you're in luck, actually.” Astarion pointed toward the cave that Nevrin had disappeared down. “Follow that through to the end and you'll find it comes back out on your ancient road. I didn't venture too far ahead and I have no idea what other creatures might try to bite your head off, but I did notice that much before I heard all the screeching and came back to save the lot of you.”

“Astarion, you're a godsend,” Karlach said, grinning. “Come on, let's catch up to Nev. We'll see this new path for ourselves, report back to Minthara, tell her all about how you found the path, and bam—you're part of the expedition.”

“That simple, huh?” Astarion chuckled and shrugged. “If you say so. Let’s—”

His next words were cut short as a distant, echoing shriek traveled down from the cave ahead. The five of them glanced at each other in surprise. Then Karlach hefted her battleaxe onto her shoulder with another grin.

“Come on, then,” she said. “Let's go save Nevrin's hide and smash some more beasties!”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #my fic #in fathoms below #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #you guys wanted cloakers so I give you cloakers #hope you like it!!#and YAY astarion is finally part of the team!#took him long enough...

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baldurspeen69420 · 2 years ago

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I wrote fanfiction and now im making it your problem

"There you are now, Noir. Doesn't that feel better? Don't you feel handsome?"

Shadowheart ran the fine-tooth comb through the black cat's thick fur. He purred and stretched himself on their bed, his tiny pink toes splayed in satisfaction.

"Darling, I love you, really. But don't you think you're spoiling your beast a bit?" Astarion was lounging in the plush chair across from them, one leg propped over the armrest as he thumbed disinterestedly through a novel. "Cats are clever. You inflate his ego too much he's bound to revolt against us, I'd wager."

"He would never, he has me wrapped around his little claw and he knows it."

Noir trilled and rolled languidly, his eyes round and inky. What was it Gale had said about Shadowheart herself so long ago? Eyes as deep as the Darklake? Like mother, like son.

It had been such a long time, hadn't it? A year now since the Netherbrain crashed into the ocean outside Baldur's Gate, a year since their odd team had parted ways. Gale going back to Waterdeep, Wyll and Karlach to the Hells, Lae'zel riding the astral sea on dragon back. . . Then there was only her and Astarion, no grand purpose waiting for them after the culmination of their journey. An orphaned woman still regaining her memories and a vampire spawn with no master.

So they went together, returning to nights of an all too familiar darkness. But things were . . . different.

For one thing, they no longer traveled together out of sheer circumstance and survival, but instead as friends. Genuinely.

They had despised each other at the start of everything. Shadowheart could still remember the cold of Astarion's blade against her neck upon stumbling across his crashed pod outside the Nautiloid. The desperation that led her to drive her head against his skull to escape. The moment of standoff before their tadpoles connected, before memories of dimly lit streets and gnawing hunger filled her mind. And then there were the weeks after. Her suspicion, his ire.

She called him petulant, selfish, self-aggrandizing, foppish, and ridiculous. He called her stubborn, stupid, prudish, and worst of all, an utter bore.

But time passed. They fought battles, traveled miles. She checked his more chaotic impulses, he made her laugh. And now here they were, sharing a room in a dingy inn south of Neverwinter. Plus the cat Shadowheart had added to their little duo to Astarion's very vocal annoyance. But she pretended she hadn't seen him stroking the feline's head when he thought her out of eyeshot.

"What is it you're reading, anyway?" Shadowheart asked, leaning over to try to see the cover.

"Nothing much, just the book I found under your bed when you went out." He replied. "What is it? Lust of the Triton Prince?"

"You!-" The tips of her ears burned red as she sat up to try to snatch the novel away. Astarion lifted it out of reach with a tut.

"Oh come on, I'm just about to get to the good part. He's about to present Devina with his scaly trident. I'm too invested to put it down now!"

"What in the hells are you doing rooting around under my bed?" Shadowheart demanded. "Can I not have an ounce of personal space?"

"If you didn't stash little tidbits like this around, I'd have no reason to go scrounging, would I? Let me read, please?"

She huffed. "You can borrow it for tonight, but mind yourself next time. I think you're acting very bold for someone within guiding bolt range."

"You would never." Astarion didn't even look up. And he was right, of course, she wouldn't.

Shadowheart leaned herself back onto the bed with a sigh. He was like an annoying little bloodsucking brother. But he was her annoying little bloodsucking brother, all things considered. "Since you're this far already, how do you feel about Prince Neptunias?"

"Ugh, gods, don't get me started." He rolled his eyes. "He's beyond irritating. The whole nobleman's honor thing makes me gag. There's not a chance he'd really be half as interesting in bed as the author writes him. Now Larius on the other hand . . ."

"You're not even supposed to like Larius, he only cares about his family fortune."

"I just see a man who knows what he wants. And really, what's wrong with that? If the author didn't want you to root for him, they shouldn't have made him so attractive."

It was a fair point, his introduction always made Shadowheart a little weak in the knees. Something about the blue eyes and the duelist boots, perhaps.

Once the sun had set they were off on the road again. Shadow had gotten used to sleeping during the day on Astarion's schedule. It wasn't as if they had much of a choice, seeing as how he'd be reduced to embers if they went out into the sunlight. But this journey was meant to change that. They were going to find a cure for his vampirism, and she was going to recover a relic of Selune in the process.

As they walked, her eyes wandered up toward the stars. She thought about an old friend once more, the image of her silver sword raised to the heavens.

"I do wonder what Lae'zel is doing up there, right now. Cleaving through hordes of Beholders perhaps?"

"If I had to guess, I would say she's covered in blood and spearing a few of Vlaakith's little minions. I'm sure she's in her element." Astarion replied.

Noir rested heavily in Shadowheart's bag, leaning against her side and keeping some potions warm under his weight. Another fragment of the past bubbled to the surface of Shadowheart's mind.

"And these pets, what purpose do they serve?" Lae'zel had asked, tiny nose in the air as usual.

"They're dumb animals to feel superior to." Astarion said.

Shadow wrinkled her nose at the two of them. "How about comfort? Companionship? Do any of those words mean anything to either of you?"

"I'd rather find my comfort and companionship in a strong set of arms, but I guess not everyone gets that opportunity, do they Shadowheart?" He snarked.

Lae'zel nodded. "The spawn speaks truth. No base creature could compare to the pleasures of flesh and tongue."

"You're both disgusting. Are you incapable of thinking beyond your genitals in any scenario?"

"I'd never dream of it and I find the very insinuation insulting." Astarion drawled.

What night had that been? Just before the raid on the goblin camp? It had to be, she could remember the bowl of stew in her hands that Gale had labored over half the evening. And the special ingredient Karlach had generously added in an attempt to be helpful. That was how Shadowheart learned she had no spice tolerance and a burning hatred for Elturel hot pepper.

She had also watched their Githyanki companion directly dunk her hand into a scorching pot of stew to fish out a few chunks of meat, to Shadowheart and Astarion's fascination and disgust. No one touched the leftovers after that.

A cold rush of wind brought the cleric back to the present moment. She breathed in the smell of the dewy grass and adjusted a strap of her armor.

"I wonder if we'll see her again." She said, more to herself than Astarion in particular.

"Who's to say? Stranger things have happened. I'm more curious if they've made a fitting shrine to me yet. Didn't she say she'd memorialize us as liberators of her people? We really ought to get proper recognition for our efforts."

They walked in silence a moment until Astarion broke it.

"I do miss her too, you know."

"I know," Shadowheart said. "I can read between the lines with you."

The vampire scoffed. "Is it so easy? I need to become more mysterious, give you a challenge again."

"As if." She rolled her eyes and turned her face away to smile.

#baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #astarion #shadowheart #they're friends your honor #feel free to yell at me for misinterpreting their behaviors and personalities #and for my grammar

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crossdressingdeath · 1 year ago

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Gale: It is no small thing to be a god's Chosen. Whatever life you once claimed to lead, it only follows from now on. Where Bhaal leads, you will be forced to go. You know this for yourself, of course.

Shadowheart: You accepted Bhaal, after everything we've been through? I can only hope this is part of some clever scheme I'm not privy to. Otherwise you might as well have stayed with the Absolute.

Karlach: Gods. You've really done it now, haven't you. I need you to finish what we started. I need you to remember me - our mission - long enough for that. If you try anything else, I'll kill you. Understand?

Lae'zel: Lord Bhaal's Chosen. You must think yourself mighty for it. Yet you were already mighty. And you would have been mightier still if you'd defied him and your 'urges'.

Wyll: By the gone gods. It isn't the blood you've spilled or the lives you've snuffed out that horrify me most. It's the pride you take in it, as if you've done all sixteen planes a great favour. When the Absolute falls, I wager our alliance falls with it.

Halsin: I had hoped you would shun Bhaal's overtures... but those hopes are dashed. To be a vessel for murder itself? I can think of few things less natural.

Did you guys enjoy Durge having nuance? Moral complexity? Interesting themes? Yeah, that's done now. If you become Bhaal's Chosen you are Evil McEvil doing Evil for the sake of Evil like the villain from a Saturday morning cartoon with more murder. I spared Isobel and took every dialogue option that followed the theme of "I'm scared and desperate and don't want to do this but Bhaal will kill me if I don't" and it is still this response. I genuinely don't know if I should be angry at the companions or Larian's writing team! In-universe Bhaalspawn don't seem to be treated great by the people of Faerûn (After the Bhaalspawn reveal Halsin mentions that if you tell the wrong people what you are you're liable to get lynched and I know BG2 mentions witch hunts, although I don't know the details since I... haven't reached BG2 yet) and the companions all either lived through the Bhaalspawn crisis or likely grew up hearing stories about it (if Astarion's comment that more parents scare their kids with stories about Bhaalspawn than about vampires is to be believed, anyway), so it wouldn't be strange for the companions to believe on at least some level that Bhaalspawn are inherently evil! It would make sense for them to subconsciously be holding Durge to a much higher standard than they do the other companions and as a result responding much worse to them making the evil choice (even though unlike the other companions their life is explicitly on the line if they refuse)! And that is what they're doing; I don't have the companion reactions to every bad personal quest ending, but no one's saying their alliance with ascended Astarion will end when the brain falls and as far as I'm aware there is no other origin quest ending that will lead to a companion trying to kill the character whose quest it is the way Jaheira, Minsc and I believe potentially Wyll do with Chosen Durge. But all of that makes sense and fits with the lore if we assume that the companions are all assuming Durge became Bhaal's Chosen because Bhaalspawn are evil regardless of what Durge says. However if that is the case the fact that there's never a chance to get into it is a massive misstep, because it turning out that all your friends who insisted that you being Bhaalspawn doesn't have to change anything do in fact think you are inherently more evil than the rest of the group is... a huge deal, actually! I mean, I guess you could say that it's because Bhaal is the group's direct enemy or Durge was his Chosen before this, but none of them mention that aspect of it at all so it's hard to say whether or not we're supposed to take it that way (and even if we are that opens up a whole other can of worms regarding Larian's failure to engage with how awful it must be for Durge to have to fight their father and old master, even though "it's really hard to face your abuser" is a central theme of most of the companions' quests).

But of course the lack of discussion means it's also possible that this is just Larian forgetting that their game is supposed to have moral nuance again. Maybe they've forgotten about all the chances they give Durge to be scared and desperate and only obeying Bhaal because they feel like they have no other choice and decided that the only reason why anyone's Durge would ever become Bhaal's Chosen is because they really like killing. In general they seem to regularly forget that Durge's relationship with Bhaal is also part of the cycle of abuse theme and treat their choices regarding him as a straightforward, binary moral choice. It's entirely possible that the companions' refusal to consider that maybe the choice between serving Bhaal and dying wasn't as simple for the person making it as it is for the heroes on the outside who don't actually play any part in it is actually just Larian forgetting that it's not that simple and the whole thing isn't supposed to say anything about the companions' views on Durge. But it's impossible to tell with how slapdash Larian's act 3 writing and especially Durge's writing is.

Also, I didn't know where else to put this, but Halsin calling Durge becoming a vessel of murder "unnatural" makes no sense. I mean... that's what they are. Even redemption Durge is called murder incarnate by the netherbrain (although only if you side with the Emperor). As a Bhaalspawn and more specifically a piece of Bhaal's own gore given life they very much are a vessel of murder and always have been. It's another moment where I don't know if we're supposed to see this as Halsin having Opinions on Bhaalspawn and their ties to their father or the writers not really thinking about what it actually means to be connected to a god of murder. The whole thing is just a real mess.

#bg3 #durge

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gehayi · 2 years ago

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Things I have learned (which are probably not universal but are definitely true of this team) by watching my companions fight in Act One:

Cleric (respecced to Life Domain to make her a better healer): Shadowheart is great at healing herself and others but almost always misses with spells and arrows. Don't even talk to me about her use of blunt weapons.

She's a mandatory part of any group because of her healing skills, however. And she can talk to the dead (thanks to an amulet), which is very useful.

Fighter (subclass Battle Master): Lae'zel is horrible at melee. No matter how high the odds that she will hit someone with her longsword, she will either miss them or she will barely scratch them. My sorcerer Tav suspects that she is a low-level githyanki soldier with ambitions far above her skill.

She is, however, very good at shoving enemies. She killed one goblin leader by shoving him off of the rafters, which saved the day for Team Tadpole. So points to her for that.

Rogue (subclass Thief): Astarion is the Most Valuable Player; he can annihilate anyone with his bow or his bite, and can wound anyone with his fire spell or his rapier. Plus he can open any locked door or chest.

Sorcerer/Warlock: Tav isn't any good at using a quarterstaff, but he's very good with a crossbow, a longbow, spells, and cantrips. Also, being a gold dragonborn with copper draconic heritage gives him some resistance to fire and acid, which is very helpful.

Warlock: Wyll is excellent at talking to animals and at casting Eldritch Blast--but, despite his cutscenes, he's terrible at melee fighting. The best way to keep him alive is to hold him at a distance and have him cast cantrips.

Wizard (subclass Evocation): Gale is good at hitting enemies with his spells, but he needs better range. Other than that, he's one of the more lethal members of the crew.

The Barbarian (Karlach) and the Druid (Halsin) haven't fought with the team yet. And the Bard (Volo) ran away when Tav politely objected to having his eye gouged out with an ice pick.

So currently, I have a rather squishy team that's great at ranged fighting and very good with spells but that needs to get better at melee, and fast. I'm amazed that we've gotten this far, honestly.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #lae'zel #shadowheart #astarion #gale of waterdeep #wyll #my tav

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creative-frequency · 1 year ago

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Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.5

Summary: Mizora makes an appearance. Astarion has to learn to share. These two events have nothing to do with each other. Word count: 3149

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 5: Reunion

Of all your tadpole’d days so far, this one has been extra eventful in both good and almost bad sense.

The best moment of the day is when you cross paths with Wyll Ravengard.

You embrace him, he spins you around and it feels like you are kids again, running through the crowds at stupid balls and dinner parties, calling each other the most pointless of nicknames. Secret fencing lessons, stolen bottles of Ithbank and Lord Ravengard’s booming lectures come back to you in flashes of the past.

The almost catastrophically bad moment of the day is when Wyll meets Karlach Cliffgate. Or rather, finally catches up to the one-horned tiefling he is tasked with hunting.

After a whole lot of calm downs and several shared tadpole shows, Wyll finally sheathes his rapier and accepts Karlach into the group. You heave an extra audible sigh of relief. There is a lot you don’t yet know about Karlach, but you know she doesn’t have an evil bone in her body.

Meanwhile, Astarion tells everyone that he is fine (while sounding delighted) teaming up with a blood-stained killer. And that he appreciates anyone who opens a conversation with threats of bodily harm.

On the way back to camp, your steps are lighter. Having Wyll join your odd party feels somehow reassuring, a small guarantee that everything will be alright – even though you wouldn’t have wished for him to be infected with a tadpole in the first place. Together, you will figure this out. Just like that one time a wild magic surge caused your steps to leave behind a trail of flowers, fungi and moss. Your family’s gardener almost had a heart attack at the sight of the mansion foyer.

“So,” Astarion’s murmur dissipates your deep thoughts. His presence annoyingly fills your orbit as soon as Wyll is out of earshot, talking with Gale ahead. Seems that the vampire spawn was waiting for the chance to speak with you.

“Yes, Astarion?” you ask, too tired to even try to avoid him. He has shown precisely zero remorse for licking your hand without permission. A silly notion out of context, but you’re too stubborn to give him a free pass on this one.

Astarion settles into pace to walk right next to you.

“We are travelling with the famed ‘Blade of Frontiers’,” he says. The mocking tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Yes, Astarion,” you sigh.

“You do know what he is famous for?” Astarion asks in a sharp tone and before you can reply, he hisses: “Hunting monsters, my dear.”

Beneath Astarion’s easy going facade is concern.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“You seem to know him rather well.” He leans closer. “Can I trust you to put in a good word for your favourite vampire spawn? Hmm?” he murmurs quite close to your ear. “Maybe convince him that my appetites lie elsewhere than the present company.”

“You want me to lie?” you scoff and shuffle away from him. He doesn’t seem to realise or care that his recent attentions are not forgotten or entirely forgiven.

“Darling, I’m hurt,” Astarion replies, a hand over his heart, but not a shred of remorse on his face.

“Maybe I’ll tell him you bit me,” you reply, obviously in jest.

Astarion’s eyes narrow and dart again over to Wyll pacing ways ahead. It seems the vampire spawn didn’t count in the possibility of a monster hunter such as the Blade of Frontiers joining your little group. Too bad for him. Especially after fooling around with your trusting nature and goodwill. Serves him right to be worried.

“No need to be so dramatic, darling,” Astarion huffs, “It was only a taste.”

“Yes, yes. Everything is a game to you,” you say and hurry your steps to keep up with the group ahead. Astarion obstinately stays right by your side, though he gives back enough of your personal space for you to breathe normally again.

“Not everything. I take matters related to blood very seriously,” he assures with a roguish smile, “Like… feeding and killing.”

“Very funny.”

“That darling neck of yours is an especially serious matter,” Astarion continues shamelessly, essentially calling your bluff of a threat. Of course he knows you would never say anything to Wyll that would cause trouble. “Maybe next time we could try that instead of the fruits provided by your clumsiness, hmm?”

You roll your eyes and huff, unable to completely hide your amusement. Damn him and his witty remarks. You seem to have to fight every smile with him. You glance down at your hand. The cut on your palm has already healed and any marks left by the slip of the blade have faded, thanks to Shadowheart’s healing magic. Forgetting the feeling of Astarion’s tongue skimming over the skin is altogether a different battle.

“Well. If you had asked, I might have even let you,” you reply, hoping he hears the words as nothing more than an attempt at pulling his leg. Because that’s obviously what they are, right? Nothing more than a joke, just like always with him.

Astarion’s brows raise with delight and curiosity. “Is that so?”

“Come on, the others are way ahead already,” you say quickly and avoid Astarion’s gaze. Unexpected warmth and tenderness is once again coiling inside you. It seems that no matter how exhausted you are at the end of the day, this banter with Astarion manages to perk you up.

“Coming, darling.”

Settling in at camp that night takes plenty of awkward moments longer than usual. Wyll and Gale are becoming fast friends and while Karlach and Wyll have buried the hatchet, you’re still worried if the peace will last. Knowing Wyll, he had a perfectly good reason for hunting Karlach in the first place, and based on the vague explanations he offers, there would be a price to pay for the failure.

“I know I said it already, but it’s really good to see you,” Wyll says and clasps your hands into his. They are so much larger than what you first remember. He is all grown up now. And so are you, you guess. Behind are the days as teenagers when you would steal a bottle of vintage and toss it around between you two while watching the stars twinkling above the city.

“I heard you’ve been busy these past years. The Blade of Frontiers, hm? You owe me a story or three,” you reply, intertwining your fingers. It feels safe. He feels safe. Like returning home.

Wyll chuckles and smiles, inclining his head. “Apparently, so have you. Story for a story?”

You smile radiantly right back at him. “Deal.”

He starts with his version of how he became infected with a tadpole of his own, hunting the Advocatus Diaboli, Karlach, through the fiery planes of Avernus. Your version is much more boring, mostly culminating in the happenstance of you returning to Baldur’s Gate for an overdue family reunion right before the nautiloid attack. The irony is not lost on Wyll how the mind flayers happened to save you from that dreaded meeting.

At some point, Gale and Shadowheart join in to listen and share their own stories. Lae’zel is polishing her Githyanki sword by her tent and you realise that Astarion is nowhere to be seen. He is probably out hunting for supper so you brush the observation off.

As the talk turns to post-tadpole plans, Wyll suddenly rises to his feet and looks around, alarmed.

“Hell’s fire. She’s coming,” he says in a severe tone.

There is suddenly an overwhelming smell of burnt metal with a hint of acrid brimstone. You stumble to your feet along with Karlach, Gale and Shadowheart just as a circle of flames erupts from the ground and an oily, black shape of a woman raises up from the centre of it.

A female devil adorned in golden jewellery and skin-tight blue dress spreads her wings and stretches her neck. A coy smile spreads to her lips and it sends cold shivers running up your spine.

“What a delightful little reunion,” she coos, burning eyes fixated on you.

Panic rises in your throat. You’re not sure what you can do in a fight against a devil, but you’re ready as hell to cast the lady into a block of ice if it comes to that. At the mere thought, you already feel the frost cover your fingertips.

Calm means control, you have to remind yourself.

“Urgh. Anyone but her,” Karlach groans. Hate and disgust twist her features.

“Mizora,” Wyll spits and steps forward.

“You know this… person?” you ask, stunned.

The devil’s eyes glint with wicked amusement. “Call me Mizora. I’m Wyll’s patron, the fount of his power.”

It takes you a second to process the implication of the words. Wyll is… a warlock? You feel everyone’s attention draw to him as they come to the same surprising conclusion about the Blade of Frontiers.

“Why are you here?” you question Mizora, looking from Wyll to her. Wyll says nothing, but he can see the realisation on your face.

“You’ve been naughty, Wyll,” Mizora coos in a sharp tone, “We had a deal, but Karlach is still breathing.” She nods angrily towards the tiefling, who looks like she is ready to rip the devil’s wings off.

Mizora lifts her palm up and twists her wrist in a yanking motion. Wyll stumbles a step forward and his hand raises to his throat as if he can’t breathe. Instantly you rush over to place a hand on his back, trying to figure out how to help.

“You told me devils only. She’s a tiefling– Not a monster,” he wheezes through ragged breaths.

Mizora flashes her teeth. “How precious. Clause G, Section Nine: ‘Targets shall be limited to the infernal, the demonic, the heartless, and the soulless’,” she explains, lifting a finger for each point.

Wyll clasps at his throat and you look to Gale and Shadowheart for help. They seem to be as ready as you are to throttle this devil witch.

“Karlach meets the criteria by virtue of having no heart,” Mizora continues as if it were necessary to point out.

Karlach bares her teeth and growls at the devil.

“What do you want?” you hiss at Mizora, but she ignores you.

“A deal is a deal,” Mizora says and yanks the invisible leash again, causing Wyll to stumble forward, away from your grasp.

“There are consequences for being naughty, Wyll,” she continues.

Mizora’s hand reaches into the air, causing hellfire to burst around Wyll. The heat forces you to take a step back. Karlach deflates and concern dulls the edge of her wrath. Wyll groans in pain and panic surges through you. Your hand reaches into your pocket.

“Wait!” you exclaim and step forward, past the hellfire, “Here, let him go and you can have this.”

A soul coin hums on your open palm, warm and heavy for its size.

Mizora’s head tilts with a fake coy smile and she looks at the coin curiously. The flames die down in an instant. Swat of relief hits you.

“My, my. Your little princess is just full of surprises, Wyll. How fortunate that you happened to be reunited.”

You flick the coin to the devil.

“Are you alright?” you ask Wyll. He can breathe again and it feels like that something constricting his throat is gone from yours too.

“I owe you an explanation,” he says weakly.

“Yes, you do, but it can wait.”

Mizora tuts. “How sweet. Wyll, don’t forget: Our pact still stands. Tata!”

With one last gleeful smile she disappears into flames. The smell of fire and sulphur dissipates with her. The camp is eerily silent as everyone just stands and stares at Wyll.

“Thank you,” Wyll says in earnest. He looks at you with the softest, brotherly adoration and sincere relief.

Later in the evening, Wyll is taking you down the memory lane as you try to remember the steps to a particularly complex court dance together.

Astarion wobbles back to camp with a full belly and pink-dusted cheeks and ears. It’s been some hours since he left to find something to drink.

Wyll leads you through a set of swirls and you step back and forth, taking turns to circle around the other with palms joined in the air between you two. You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed yourself so breathless and smiled so much that your cheeks have begun to ache.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Astarion by his tent, gaze flitting over to you.

The next set of swirls starts, faster in pace than previously your imaginary music dictated. Just as Wyll gently pushes you to whirl around, your feet tangle together. You end up lurching forward and Wyll swiftly catches your arm, using the momentum to guide you into his arms instead of the cold, hard embrace of the ground.

“Oops, are you alright?” Wyll asks, laughing, and steadies you.

You huff, shaking your head. “I’m fine, I’m fine, sorry for almost tackling you.”

You can feel rather than see Astarion’s stare in the back of your neck. It tingles, demanding you to turn and look. Like a fly begging to be swatted away. You push a smile to your lips and curtsy to Wyll.

“Thank you, Lord Ravengard, for tonight’s dance. I must admit, I’m out of practice and breath and require a rest,” you speak courteously and incline your head like the damned swan you were taught to imitate.

Wyll chuckles and bows formally, hand over his chest. “The pleasure was all mine, my lady.”

Astarion’s presence burns in the back of your mind. You know he is watching.

“I’m going to fetch a flask of water,” you say, motioning to the boxes of supplies conveniently placed by Astarion’s tent.

Wyll’s eyes dart over to Astarion, but he keeps any suspicions to himself. “Alright. Have a goodnight.”

It feels as if walking on pins and needles as you approach Astarion. He is blatantly staring, brows lighty furrowed, and prickly words no doubt ready to be unleashed upon you.

“How was your evening, Astarion?” you ask and grab a flask of water. You must really be out of shape if a few moments of courtly dance can make you pant and sweat like this.

“I found a bear,” he replies in a weird tone.

Now that you really look at him, he seems to be mildly wobbling and his smile is suspiciously liberated. Otherwise he looks perfectly unharmed and neat as always, not a strand of hair out of place.

“He took some of my blood. I took all of his,” Astarion continues and his high-pitched giggle rings in the night. You don’t know how to exactly respond to such a statement. You suppose that feeding on a bear is much preferable to the rats and bugs he mentioned his diet previously consisted of.

“I… see.” You take a swig of water to refrain from further commenting.

“You’ve had a busy evening yourself. Entertaining a devil and saving dear Wyll. Where did you even get a soul coin? Shame I missed it,” Astarion says and arches a brow, asking for you to elaborate.

You make a tiny cough. “I just had it lying around.” It’s for the best if none of your companions know the specific circumstances of you acquiring such an item.

“I thought we were going to see some sparks fly between Wyll and Karlach,” Astarion says slyly and continues after a breath: “But it turns out the real sparks are flying between you and him.”

You’re about to take another swig of water but turn to look at Astarion, filled with shock and blinking stupidly. You thought it pretty obvious that Wyll Ravengard is like a brother to you. Any romantic notions concerning the man quite frankly make you nauseous.

“Sparks? Wyll? Don’t be disgusting,” you groan, but Astarion seems to have a disadvantage on his comprehension since he completely disregards it.

“Aren’t you two just the perfect couple – the figurative prince and princess of Baldur’s Gate,” he says menacingly and wobbles on his feet.

“I assure you, we are not.”

“No need to deny it.”

Ass-tarion wobbles more and you almost reach for his elbow to steady him, but decide he would deserve falling on his ass after saying something like that.

“Wyll is a friend,” you assert and have half a mind to wonder why it’s important for you to explain your relationship to this gorgeous man. It annoys you to no end.

Astarion is drunk. On bear blood. Unbelievable.

“Well, he is the sort of prince-type I would dream of marrying,” Astarion continues and chuckles. “When I was thirteen.”

Yes, he obviously thinks Wyll is too much of a goody two-shoes. Too much of a Prince Charming, excessively virtuous and morally upright. No matter that the man literally gained his powers by making a pact with a devil.

Deciding that Astarion deserves to be picked on about his opinions, you opt in for the overreaction.

“Marrying Wyll?! Are you serious? Ew, ew, eww! That’s disgusting,” you exclaim and make a retching sound.

Astarion squints at you, full well knowing even in his inebriated state that you’re messing with him.

“I knew Wyll when he was thirteen and trust me, he was far from prince charming,” you assure. Your mother would disagree, but Astarion doesn’t have to know that.

“Isn’t that nice for you. Such long time friends and a happy reunion,” Astarion replies in a cold tone that makes you a little uneasy. You wish you didn’t care about his opinions at all, but alas. Refusing to let him berate your childhood friendship, you square your shoulders, lifting your chin.

“It actually is. Wyll is a lovely person,” you reply sharply.

Astarion looks away, frowning.

Oh.

He is jealous.

Well, now you just feel bad about teasing him.

“You should try it sometime,” you say, all pretence of ridicule dropped, and bite your lip.

“What?”

“Being nice and friendly.”

Astarion scoffs. Without a word or permission, he reaches out for your previously injured hand and brings it up for a closer inspection. Your heartbeat speeds up and deceitful heat rises up to your cheeks. There is no way he doesn’t hear or see your body reacting to the touch.

“It’s a tragedy to be misunderstood, when you’re this extraordinary,” he murmurs and brushes his fingers across your palm. Though, you’re fairly certain he is talking about himself, you still haven’t been offered a proper apology.

“Then I’m sure you can figure out how to make amends,” you say with more than intended bite in your words. You pull your hand to yourself, hardly resisting the urge to shake the tingling sensation away.

“Goodnight, Astarion.”

He doesn’t reply as you turn on your feet and march to your tent.

Next chapter

My Writing Masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #astarion #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #contradictions and other counter measures

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megidonitram · 1 year ago

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Everyone's Running From Something

(ch. 5)

A Baldur's Gate 3 University Professor AU

Rating: M

Quick Summary: Astarion and Gale are two University English professors precariously mentoring a troubled 19-year-old and falling in love.

💖Main Pairing : BloodWeave,(Astarion/Gale) 💕Side Pairings: Shadowheart/Nocturne, Karlach/Dammon, Wyll/The Dark Urge, Tav/Tav 💔Past Pairings: Gale/Mystra, Astarion/Sebastian, Astarion/Tav

<=Previous Chapter | Master List | Ao3 | Next Chapter =>

**Please see Master List Entry for Full Content Warnings**

⏰Chapter Warning⏰

Mentions of Child Abuse | Discussion of a Past Suicide Attempt | Implied Eating Disorder

The first day of class was overcast. Astarion woke up at 5:30 am and ran through his usual morning routine: make the bed, hot shower, work out- Mondays were endurance days: planks, crunches, lunges, and a 2-mile run-, cold shower, get dressed, morning coffee- one sugar, one stevia, no cream.

The mornings were when Astarion missed Lydia the most- not necessarily the banal domestic conversation, but the commotion of her in his house. Her inscrutable taste in music and the sound of her knocking around in the kitchen filled the void of silence in a far more alive way than the soft whisper-drone of NPR. It was also harder to fall back into old habits when someone else was there watching him.

His phone buzzed as he was finishing his coffee.

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

L: Hey, probably a stupid question.

Her name was still in his phone the way she’d saved it when they first met, as ‘Lydia 🖤😈’ and Astarion thought, as he did every time she reached out for something, that he should probably change that before the wrong person saw it.

L: Is there a purple and white cabochon earring lying around your bedroom somewhere? L: The last time I can remember wearing them I ended up at yours.

Astarion picked up his phone and typed a reply.

A: I know I have one of your earrings in my car cupholder.

A: I keep meaning to get it back to you. I’ll send it along with Wyll if you’d like.

She replied a few minutes later.

L: Absolutely do not do that. L: I’ll just run by your office L: God. L: You’re going to make the kids think I’m having an affair.

Astarion read the text and put his phone down, intending to end the conversation, but then something clicked in his mind.

A: Hey. A: You worked at a DSS to put yourself through medical school, didn’t you?

L: ooOOOoo

L: You must REALLY need something if you’re willing to admit that sports medicine is real medicine😏😏😏

A: Answer the question, Silverwarden. L: I did. L: But I was an admin not a coordinator, so my knowledge is limited L: You might be better off talking to Isobel

L: She’s very nice! I can introduce you if you’ve never met! A: I’m an English professor, I’ve met the ADA coordinator. A: I need your discretion. A: Can you tell me why a student’s mental health deferment might get rejected? L: Is this about Xenia? L: It’ll be easier to explain if you call me.

Astarion checked his watch before he clicked on her contact information to call her. The phone rang a few times before she picked up. He heard a squawking toddler and the last snatch of her previous conversation: ‘…It’s just a student thing… Alright, see you tonight. I love you.’

“Hello, Mr. Goodman! Are you going to Vemo me a dollar, or shall I?” Lydia had an unhurried lilting voice, with a touch of a southern accent that made her swallow her ‘o’s and ‘t’s.

“What?”

“It’s a- never mind!” she huffed. “Have you consumed a single piece of media produced in this century? You fucking crypt keeper.”

“Sometimes I have to review Jenevelle’s assigned reading choices for appropriateness.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He could tell she was nodding the way she did when he missed her point. “‘And so I Anal Douche While Kesha’s ‘Praying’ Plays From My iPhone on Repeat,’ I remember. She scandalized half the football team with that one.”

“The American Football team could stand to get scandalized more,” Astarion replied. “How are your little brats doing?”

As if on cue, there was another toddler squeal in the background. “Ruby took her first steps last fall, and Clem’s learning how to crawl exceptionally early, but I suspect you don’t actually care.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. “Why would the DSS reject Xenia’s deferment?”

“So that’s the thing: They wouldn’t. The DSS covers ADA accommodations for students with documented disabilities; a sudden injury would not be under their purview,” Lydia explained, putting on her lecture voice. “The decision to defer a student’s financial aid awards would go to the university’s finance board—I think? It may go to the board of directors.”

“That’s not what Raphael told me.” Astarion pressed his tongue against his canine until it started to sting.

“I know you're not going to like to hear this, but Raphael may genuinely not know,” and she was quite right; Astraion was going to be pissed if he found out he'd been bluffed into his current predicament. “Disability services is an incredibly complex field- both necessarily and unnecessarily so. It’s still pretty unusual for a student’s medical deferment to get rejected… Can I ask what your interest in this is?”

“I’ve found a channel to contest the decision, but I want to make sure it’s at least a somewhat viable option before I drag Xenia into more bureaucracy.”

“hmm… I knew you two would get along.” Lydia replied, quite satisfied with herself. “You have a very similar energy.”

Astarion sighed. He knew someone had referred Xenia to his sophomore survey class last semester; he'd just never figured out who. “I suppose we both have that ‘father used to beat me’ twinkle in our eyes.”

“Don’t put those words in my mouth!” Lydia exclaimed. “I meant you both have a similar…” She groped for the right words, “…surviverly quality about yourselves.”

“Will to survive?” Astarion corrected her.

“Whatever!” She snapped.

“Do you know why Xenia might have been rejected?”

“Speculatively?” Lydia asked.

“No, I’m asking you to read someone’s mind.” Astarion quipped.

“I answered your call in front of my husband for this, you know?”

Astarion sighed again. “If he’s not comfortable with you talking to your exes, he probably should not have married someone who fucked their coworker.”

“Do you want my help, or did you call me just to snipe?”

“Fine… please speculate. Why would someone’s medical deferment be rejected?”

“Well, if I had to guess… Xenia was sort of a high-profile get for the university. And given her history, I think it’s pretty safe to say that incident-” she paused as if she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say the next part. “-I think that incident last fall was probably a suicide attempt.”

There was a beat of grim silence. When the news came down, everyone had made that assumption, but no one was brave enough to put words to the thought.

Astarion hummed in acknowledgment. “So, you think the school rejected her medical deferment over bad publicity?”

“I think it would turn into a massive media circus if that got out, yes,” Lydia replied. “They may be trying to push her into dropping out.”

“Do you think it’s worth it to challenge?” Astarion asked.

“I don’t know,” Lydia sighed. “At the very least, it would probably be good to have as a precedent if she ends up having to sue the school… You could always just ask her what she wants to do. Poor kid might be too tired for all of this.”

“Fair.” Astarion pondered her words for a moment.

“Can I help you with anything else?” She asked.

“That’s all for now,” Astarion replied. “…Thank you, by the way. You don’t have to stick your neck out for me anymore, you know?”

“I know,” Lydia replied. “I did this because I wanted to. You’re still my friend -despite everything, I care about you.”

She hung up. Astarion’s phone screen went black. The house was silent again.

***

Gale got stuck in horrible traffic on his first day and ended up arriving 30 minutes late for his morning office hours. He skipped past dropping his lunch off in the breakroom fridge and rushed straight to the office, absolutely mortified that he was so late for his first proper day of class. He was so frazzled he had to double back to grab his coffee from the car.

It wasn’t like there would be anyone there waiting on him- a grand total of one student who knew who he was-, but it certainly made a bad impression to show up late on the first day of class.

Astarion was both bemused and incredibly entertained as he watched Gale flit around their office like a very flustered tornado, trying to cram one hour of planning into the thirty minutes he had remaining.

“You’re going to be fine.” Astarion had assured him. “It’s syllabus week, no one’s expecting Judith Buttler.”

Gale still left for his class 10 minutes early -just in case his classroom had teleported to a different dimension since he last visited it. It hadn’t. It turned out the room was exactly where he’d left it at the end of a strange little corridor in the library, and in fact, there were already two students waiting for him.

Xenia sat near the back of the classroom, wearing the facial expression of a kitten that was being petted too hard, as a pinch-faced, red-headed young woman combed her fingers through the knots in her hair.

“I can’t believe you’re not embarrassed to go out in public looking like this.” The pinch-faced woman scolded.

“It’s ha-ard to brush my hair with my non-dominant hand…” Xenia’s eyes bulged out of her head as the woman pulled her fingers through a particularly difficult knot.

“Chk. I’ll put it in a braid then, so you aren’t struggling to brush it.” She started dividing Xenia’s dark hair into sections no more gently than she’d detangled it.

“Hello Xenia, It’s good to see you again. How are you doing?” Gale asked as he set his satchel down behind the podium.

“Oh, I’ve been worse… I’ve also been better- Lae’zel, that hurts!” She squealed as the pinched-faced woman, Lae’zel apparently, tugged the braid tight.

“Then sit still so it will end faster.” Lae’zel scolded her. “I have younger siblings that squirm less than you, and they’re still in diapers.”

“I guess you’ll have to work on instilling more terror in my heart then,” Xenia replied. She gripped the edges of her desk with white knuckles as Lae’zel wrenched her head back.

Lae’zel hummed as if that was a legitimate suggestion. “Yes, I think we would have a much stronger working relationship if you feared me just a little more…”

Lae’zel finally let go of Xenia, who let out a breath like she’d narrowly avoided being hit by a bus as she pulled a few face-framing pieces from the clutches of her new French braid. Lae'zel turned her sights on Gale- though he desperately hoped it wasn't because she was planning on braiding his hair, too. “You must be the new English adjunct.”

“Yes, I’m Dr. Dekarios!” Gale replied. “You must be Lae’zel? The athletic director speaks very highly of you.”

“As he should.” Lae’zel nodded like he’d just given her the correct answer in an oral exam. “You should know that I designed to take this course this semester because I thought it would be taught by Dr. Ancunín rather than Dr. Shadowheart. I will be quite displeased with you if your teaching methods are as frivolous and unstructured as Shadowheart’s.”

Xenia’s eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a silent ‘Oh’ sound as she looked back and forth between Gale and Lae’zel.

“I can’t say that I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching Dr. Shadowheart teach, so I don't know how our teaching methods compare, but I will not deign to be frivolous or unstructured.” Gale laughed nervously.

“I think she is perfectly competent as a professor of literature, but she does quite poorly with the more structured elements of the genera. Dr. Ancunín does not fare much better, but he is preferable to Shadowheart.” Lae’zel explained as if Gale had genuinely asked her option. “You should know that thus far, you have not made a positive impression on me… you were quite late posting the syllabus.”

“My apologies, Lae’zel,” Gale replied, hand on heart. “I got let into my faculty account one week before the semester began.”

“Hm, yes.” Lae’zel considered his response. “This school does have abysmal technical support, so I shall let it slide this time.”

By that time, a few more students had filed in, and it was about time for class to start- or Gale was desperate not to hear any more unsolicited criticism of his colleagues. Astarion was right. The class went perfectly fine. He explained the structure of the course, and had everyone introduce themselves and state their major (he found out Xenia was there because she was a phycology major), before he explained the purpose of taking an upper level grammar and style.

“The purpose of learning advanced grammar is not to improve your everyday language… If the person you are talking to understands what you are saying, then there is nothing wrong with your grammar… Language should evolve to fit the speaker, the speaker should not evolve to fit the language… However, if you are going into a field like law or communication where you’ll be expected to use very precise language…”

It went by in a flash, and Gale could hardly remember if he got everything that he needed to into the lecture by the time class ended, but if anyone was unclear about anything, they didn’t let him know at the moment. He barely registers Xenia darting out of the room before he finishes saying, “Have a nice rest of your day.” A few people lingered to give him the heads up about things in their personal lives that might interfere with class, and one student wanted to know if he’d receive their letter of accommodation, but before long, there was a small congregation of people forming at the door waiting for Gale to leave so the next class can take over the space.

He walked back to his office with a spring in his step. He didn’t even mind that much when it started to pour rain, and he realized he had forgotten his umbrella in the car.

***

It wasn’t much dryer in the humanities building. Gale dodged around liner-less trash bins set up under bulging ceiling tiles dotting the hallway. In the break room, Karlach was holding a bookcase steady so Shadowheart could climb on top of it.

Gale paused and walked back to the breakroom to make sure he saw that right.

He did.

“Do you… need help with something?” he asked sheepishly.

“Nope, I think we’ve got it!” Karlach replied, ducking out of the way of one of Shadowheart’s heels. “Water pools in AC vents when it rains, so we have to bang on them a couple of times to make sure it doesn’t collapse.”

“O-oh?” Gale looked up and realized one of the panels of the overhead duct was swelling dangerously. “Shouldn’t we put in a work order?”

“Be my guest,” Shadowheart said. She precariously balanced on her knees, and Gale held his breath as the bookshelf wobbled underneath her. “But maintenance won’t get to it before the break room floods.”

She reached up and banged on the ductwork above her head, and the vent in the middle of the room started dribbling yellowish-brown water. Suddenly, there was a strange gurgling noise, then a thunk! as the panel popped back into proper shape.

“Great work, Jen!” Karlach whooped, holding out a hand to help Shadowheart jump down. They high-fived, and Shadowheart went about smoothing out her clothes, grumbling under her breath when she realized there was a massive run in her tights.

“This kind of thing happen often?” Gale asked.

“Only when it rains!” Karlach chirped. She checked her watch and immediately started towards the door. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to get to my day job.” She gave Gale a friendly pat on the shoulder as she passed him. “If the vents start to flood again, it’s your and fancy pants’ turn to fix it!”

“I don’t know if that bookshelf will support either of our weights…” Gale balked.

“Not with that attitude, soldier!” Karlach called as the stairwell door swung closed behind her.

“You can poke it with a handle broom until it corrects; it just takes longer,” Shadowheart assured him. “I’ve got to go switch tights before I get to my next class. I don’t know if you’ve had the displeasure of meeting her yet, but God forbid Lae’zel catches me with a run in my pantyhose.”

“Oh, so she does talk like that to your face then?” Gale replied. “I didn’t know if I should-”

“Talks like what- never mind, don’t tell me!” Shadowheart huffed. “I swear, after everything I’ve done for that girl- I’ll talk to you later!” She turned on her heels and followed Karlach up the stairs.

Gale sighed in relief, ready to hold up in his office for a little while. He reached into the front pocket of his satchel for his keys only to find it empty. Cursing under his breath, he thumbed through the things in the main pocket, hoping he’d accidentally mixed them in with everything else- nothing. Finally, he pulled out his phone only to find a series of texts from Astarion.

A: You left your keys.

Then, a little while later.

A: I’m going to be out of office when you get back. A: Ask Mizora on the second floor for the spare key, good luck.

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