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brokebonewritings · 2 months

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Never Before, Never Again

Astarion x Fem! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Angst, Abuse, Death, Mentions of Blood, Smut

Summary: It’s been six month since settling down in Baldur’s Gate with Astarion. After killing Cazador, you notice his aggressive nature taking over. How long will it take for you to be truly done with his wrath.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I want to start off by apologizing but I felt so inspired after the new romance scenes in Patch 6. I also want to say that I will be writing a good ole, fluff fic with Astarion just to make up for this.

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You paced down the corridor of the palace you now shared with Astarion. It had been 6 months since that fateful night. The killing of Cazador had been eventful so to say and shortly after you had accepted his invitation to be his. Forever.

It wasn't the same. You started noticing it little by little. His attitude towards you had become increasingly aggressive. Feral even.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air whenever Astarion was around. His once charming demeanor had turned into something darker. As you walked through the palace corridors, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping up your spine.

Reaching the library, you decided to throw yourself into your research. You were a scholarly warlock, after all. And work you did. For hours you studied magic texts, and the histories behind them.

As you sat in the dimly lit library, Astarion entered the room with a predatory glint in his eyes. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. When you turned, you tried to shake off the feeling of fear that gripped your chest as he approached you.

"Darling, is this where you've been all day?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've missed you and your delicious body."

The room turned cold as his words sank in. Something had changed in him, something dark and possessive.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure in the face of his unsettling presence. "I've been busy with my studies," you replied, keeping your tone neutral despite the growing sense of dread in your heart.

The dread whenever he was around had only appeared in the most recent weeks. You tried to focus on the book in front of you, but his proximity was suffocating.

Astarion's hand suddenly shot out and slammed the book shut, causing you to jump in your seat. His grip on the tome was tight, his knuckles turning white as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your skin.

"Studies can wait," he whispered, his voice sending a chill down your spine. "I have other ways for us to spend our time together."

You had to play along. It was the only way to appease him. The only way you could escape.

"How is that, my love?" You say as you rise from your seat, taking his outstretched hand gently.

In a swift motion he pulls you in close to his chest. As he held you tightly against him, his grip almost bruising, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear mingled with a strange sense of thrill.

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, "I want to show you a new side of pleasure, my dear. A side that only I can unlock for you." His words were laced with seduction.

As he guided you out of the library and down the dimly lit corridors of the palace, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being led into the unknown.

You found yourself in a room you were very familiar with. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient magic, and as Astarion's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, you realized truly you were not in the presence of the man you one knew.

"Darling, did you bring me in here to ravish me?" You say as you begin to remove your silk dress.

Watching his eyes darken with hunger, his lips curled into a sinister smile. He circled around you like a predator assessing its prey, his fingertips trailing lightly along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He finally stops behind you and reaches around your neck to grip your jaw. His touch was both possessive and delicate, a stark contrast that sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. As he tilted your head back to expose your vulnerable throat, you could feel the weight of his gaze burning into your skin.

Astarion's voice was a low murmur against your ear, promising whispered secrets and forbidden desires. "Oh, my sweet little morsel," he murmured, "I am going to make sure there is not a single place on your skinned that is untouched."

His mouth finds the pressure point in your neck and you moan as he gives it a gentle bite. You know he can feel you tremble beneath his hand. He trails his kisses lower until he is able to fully sink his teeth in.

You begin to gasp and writhe under his touch, the intensity of his grip and the sharp sting of his bite both arousing and terrifying. And then, as suddenly as it began, Astarion pulls away, leaving you breathless and exposed.

"Astarion!" You shout, hand covering the bite marks on your neck. "I told you to ask before doing that!"

"I do not need to ask permission! You are mine! I own you!" He grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

That did not stop the tears from beginning to drip down your cheeks. Everything he did not want to become, he was. After countless promises that he was the same rogue you had met that fateful day.

"Oh darling, do you see what you have made me do?" He whispers. "You know I don't like to shout at you."

Astarion's features softened as he saw the tears on my face, though his eyes remained distant and cold. He slowly released my arm and stepped back.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in your body. "You need to control yourself, Astarion. You are beginning to change into someone I don't know."

"Of course I am changing. I am the most powerful being in this world." He walks over to the chair by his desk. "Are you doubting me now?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but to submit to the question. "No, no. Of course not, love."

He motions with his finger for you to come to him and you obey. When you approach him, he motions for you to kneel before him. Once again you obey his command.

"Here is what we are going to do, pet." He begins "You are going to be a good girl, and do as I say. Understand?"

You nod. "Yes I understand."

"Such a good girl, aren't you?"

He stands and steps forward grabbing hold of your chin and bringing you in for a searing kiss. Once he was satisfied, he pushes against your cheek causing you to fall back roughly. You try to catch your breath as you sit there, staring up at him.

"Get undressed, and sit on the bed for me, darling."

You stand and finally fully undress. You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the silk sheets beneath you. You didn't know how to react at this point.

He stepped closer until he was looming over you, his shadow engulfing you in its darkness. Then, he reached down and began to trace the outline of your body with his fingers, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands, his voice low and seductive.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you find yourself doing as he says, unable to resist his authority. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, his gaze lingering on each part of your body that he intends to claim.

Finally, he leans down and kisses your inner thigh, his lips barely brushing against your skin. You tremble as he slowly makes his way up, his tongue tracing a path along the delicate flesh. Each touch of his lips and tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

As his lips reach your most intimate place, you arch your back, your breath coming in short gasps. You feel him tease you, his tongue flicking against you, driving you mad with desire.

Astarion smiles, a wicked smile, as he notices the effect he's having on you. He pulls back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he begins to devour you. His tongue plunges inside you, sending waves of pleasure through you that threaten to consume you.

You can't help but cry out in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moves inside you. You are completely at his mercy, your body arching and writhing as he takes you to heights you never thought possible. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He leans down and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

"Now," he says, his voice low and commanding, "It's time for you to learn what it means to truly be mine."

You nod, still reeling from the intensity of the experience. With one swift motion, he grabs your hips as he flips you over. You lay there a moment, listening to the ties of his pants coming undone.

He lifts you up and positions you at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide to reveal your vulnerability. His powerful hands grip your hips, and he begins to enter you slowly, his movements deliberate, almost intimate.

You gasp in pain, then pleasure, as the feeling of fullness envelops you, overwhelming your senses. He moves harder, faster, and you can't help but arch your back to meet his thrusts, moaning his name over and over.

He continues to dominate you, his voice a low rumble in your ear, promising you more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Your body responds, writhing beneath him, your hands clutching the sheets, your moans echoing through the dimly lit room.

"That's it, my love," he growls, his voice low and filled with lust. "Take it all."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breath ragged, and you felt his grip on your hips tighten. Astarion's eyes lock on yours, and you see the intensity of his desire reflected in them. With one final thrust, he groans your name, and you feel him spill inside you.

When you feel him slip out of you, you can't help but turn yourself around to face him. You were met with the unpleasant feeling of a sharp dagger being pressed against your chest.

"Astarion?"

"I know exactly what you are planning to do to me, Darling."

The dagger you had hidden in the pocket of your dress was the exact one that was being held against you.

"Please Astarion, it doesn't have to be like this!" You begin to cry. The man you once knew and loved had been left in that chamber.

"Oh, but it does have to be like this." He presses the dagger a little harder causing you to wince in pain. "You were the last person I expected to betray me."

"Betray you?" You choke out, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Darling." Astarion's voice is cold and murderous, and you can see it in his eyes. "We both know that's a lie."

He steps closer, the dagger still pressed against your chest. You can feel the cold metal prick you, causing you to jolt in pain.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did you plan to do to me?"

"You are becoming exactly like Cazador, Astar-"

"Don't ever mutter his name in here again!" His voice seized with venom. "I am more than he ever was! Smarter, Powerful."

His grip tightened around the dagger, its edge digging deeper into your flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. Your heart raced with fear, but you couldn't help but retort, "And yet, you still lack control."

As he raises the dagger back to plunge it into your chest, you quickly maneuver and shove him into the bed without second thought. The knife falls from his hand and slides onto the floor near your feet.

You take a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. This situation has escalated far beyond what you had anticipated, and now you need to act quickly to save yourself.

Staring into Astarion's eyes, his murderous intent shining back at you. With a surge of adrenaline, you push yourself off the bed and lunge for the dagger on the floor. You manage to grab it just as he jumps to his feet, ready to pounce.

With the dagger in hand, you cautiously back away from him, trying to keep your distance. "Listen to me, Astarion," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the trembling in your body. "You have hurt me beyond words can explain! I have had enough!"

"I have given you everything you have ever wanted!"

"And yet you have taken everything I needed!"

Astarion's eyes narrowed at your words, and he took a step towards you, menace radiating from him. You raised the dagger in front of you, preparing to defend yourself if necessary.

"You betrayed me, Darling. You lied to me, and now you want to take my life?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I never wanted this! I just wanted.. I just wanted you to be the person you were before, but you've become someone else. Someone I don't recognize."

"I was always this person!" He shouts, you see his hands shaking with anger. "You could not change that even if you tried."

Astarion took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew he was about to do something that would change the course of both of your lives.

"I'm tired of being your spawn, Astarion."

With that, Astarion lunged at you. The dagger that was held tightly in your hand was raised as you plunged it into his heart. His eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat as the cold steel and wood pierce his chest.

Blood spills from his mouth before he speaks. "I thought you loved me."

"I did love you." You sob, "But I knew for a while that you truly didn't love me."

You watch as his body convulses for a moment before going limp. You step back, staring at the lifeless form before you. The room is silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the space.

Taking a deep breath, the shock of the moment is still fresh in your mind. You never thought it would come to this.

You sink to your knees beside his body, the weight of what you've done heavy on your chest. The blood is still warm as you reach down to touch it, a single tear falling onto his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Astarion," you whisper. "But I had to do it. I had to save you from yourself."

Slowly, you rise to your feet, your legs shaking with the realization of what you've done. You take in the scene before you, the remnants of your love now tainted with blood and death.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the blood from your hands, leaving behind a red smudge on the wall. You grab armor from the wardrobe before finally leaving the palace. When you reached the door and opened it, the cool day air felt cool against your skin.

Looking back one final time, you realize just how trapped you had been. Now free, you felt the weight of sadness as you set out on your own once again. You would never let this happen again.

Taglist: @fruityrituals @guacam011y

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#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #astarion smut

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 4 months

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Unfinished

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: none - this is fluff

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Today was anything but easy. Everything, absolutely everything, had gone from bad to worse. Arriving back at camp was the only reprieve you had gotten all day. You walked straight through camp, on a mission into the woods. Astarion watched you, everyone could feel the waves of frustration sloughing off you and decided it was wise to leave you be. Everyone except Astarion.

He followed you deep into the night. He found you panting and sweating as you hacked your sword about wildly, slashing and chopping every tree you possibly could. You threw your sword down and launched your helmet at a tree before sinking down to your knees. You slowly took your armor off, Astarion watched you from the shadows of the tree line. You look utterly exhausted. Your skin was dull, the bags under your eyes were heavy and dark, you looked frail despite your strong abilities as a paladin.

You sighed, setting down the last hunk of metal. You rubbed your aching muscles, desperate for relief. Sighing, you watched the stars as they glittered and danced about in the sky. Oh to be a star, beautiful and without limitations. You laid on your side, not wanting to even hold yourself up anymore. You breathed in the dirt and moss beneath you, letting your body go completely limp. You faded quickly, sleep finally conquering your overworked form.

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Your body shivered with the cool night breeze. Astarion draped a blanket over you, sitting next to you with a book and a knife. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he didn’t want to wake you either. He saw you struggle lately and today seemed to be the worst of it. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, he thought. You were a good leader for the little band of misfits but even leaders need reprieve. He watched you sleep for a bit. He had never seen someone so peaceful, completely vulnerable to the world. He memorized the soft curves of your face, he longed to touch them. Just a touch wouldn’t hurt. He brushed a bit of hair away from your eyes. Wrong move. Your eyes remained closed as you clamped your hand around his wrist while your free hand pointed his own dagger at his throat. Only then did your eyes wearily open.

“Astarion?” you questioned, loosening your grip and pulling the blade back before setting it down.

“Do you make a habit out of almost killing your companions? Or is that just reserved for me?” he said, his usual smirk and sultry tone ever present.

You noticed the blanket over you, “Thank you…” you said and you snuggled in deeper.

He nodded, you watched each other in comfortable silence for a few moments.

“How is it that you have followed me for 200 years and yet your heart still speeds up when I am near?” he whispered, thinking you were asleep.

You sat up immediately, eyes flicking to him. He looked surprised for a moment, neither of you sure who should talk first.

“You’ve known this whole time?” you asked.

He nodded, “I just haven’t figured out why or what you are.”

“I’ll tell you.” you sighed, scooting over to him. “I am… death.”

His eyes widened, “Beg your pardon?”

“Well - kinda… I was death's apprentice… I got fired…” you chuckled at the end, trying to hide your reddening face.

“How do you get fired from being death?” he asked with shock in his voice.

“I refused to kill someone who’s time was up.” you shrugged, shying away from specifics.

“So why follow me for 200 years? I thought you were a ghost… a figment of my imagination. You never looked completely real…” he whispered the last bit.

“I retained my powers as a servant of death. Whenever you saw me, you saw my obscure form. I was basically a shadow.” you explained.

“Why didn’t you help me?!” he shouted, making you jolt.

“I wanted to… believe me, I did.” you whispered.

“Then why didn’t you?! You had every opportunity, all the power in the world - and yet you let me suffer! Why!” he was yelling now, pacing in front of you.

“Because I had no choice!” you shouted, making Astarion stop and look at you.

“When the Gur attacked you… It… it was you I refused to kill. Death may have relinquished me from my apprenticeship but death is a fickle mistress. She kept me from you, I couldn’t get near you unless I was a shadow.” you spoke as calmly as you could but your voice wavered as tears began to fill your waterline.

“How are you here now then?” he glared at you.

You forced your tadpole to connect with Astarion’s, making it wriggle uncomfortably in his skull. “The same reason you can walk in the sun.” you tapped your head a few times.

He sighed, settling down next to you again.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry… truly.” you mumbled, quickly wiping your tears away.

“Why did you refuse to kill me?” he asked.

“I… I just couldn’t. Something about your soul felt… unfinished. You did technically die, but not in the way death wanted. Dying is only valuable if a soul is gained, you kept your soul.”

“And you paid the price for it… were you forced to watch me?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No, I stayed because… I wanted to make sure death didn’t come for you. I wanted to keep you safe. I did a rotten job.”

“Two unlucky peas in a pod. In another life, we could have been friends.” he said, bumping his shoulder into yours, giving you a soft smile.

“And in this life?” you asked quietly, afraid of his answer.

“Truth be told - I always found comfort in your shadow. The ghostly figure who sang to me, prayed over me, whispered to me. Perhaps our luck is looking up now. Perhaps we could be something… more?” he finally turned his head to meet your eyes.

You scanned his face, not sure what you were looking for. You acted on impulse, rushing your lips to his. He pulled you in by your waist, kissing you back.

“The vampire spawn and the apprentice of death - quite the combination, little love.” he spoke as he kissed your neck a few times.

“We both have masters to kill, maybe we are fated to love after all.” you joked.

“200 years together and now you think were fated?” He laughed a bit. He had always been amazed by you, this strange enigma. His small bit of solace in horrendous times. And here he finds you, real, touchable, and best of all - you love him back.

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Naboo's Note:

Hello! I hope this is to everyones liking, life is just really stressful (tis the season) so ideas are lacking but I will try to be consistent and at least post one new fic per week. Love all the support and appreciate every bit of it <3 Thank you all for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests. XOXOXOXOXO!!!

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tomurakii · 5 months

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My last post about bloodweave was pretty negative (though necessarily so imo) so I wanted to talk about the little things about the bloodweave dynamic that I DO like and want to see more of in fic (under the cut).

- the orb means Astarion can't start their relationship transactionally. Gale can't give Astarion blood, and also can't have sex with him (and presumably would refuse casual sex anyway). How would the relationship develop without Astarion being able to rely on the give-and-take, forced instead to just trust Gale will watch his back? Astarion isn't a plans guy, I imagine having to come up with something on the spot (considering none of the other companions are reeaaaally an option either) would lead to a lot more emotional vulnerability as he tries to take a route he has much less experience with. Not to mention that the flirty and standoffish front isn't exactly going to endear him to Gale, who approves of the capable, loyal, and righteous. How long can Astarion pretend to be invested in Gale's wellbeing before it becomes true?

- they both have bad ascension endings, but different natural outcomes. Gale is considered the more morally upstanding one, but in their solo states (without the player's influence) Gale will go through with ascension and Astarion won't. Would they goad each other on? Gale disapproves of Astarion's ascension, using arguments that could apply to himself about the personal sacrifice and loss of the soul. Would Astarion flip them around, become defensive? Their dynamic could mean the power hungry character ending up discouraging the pursuit of godhood, or the two of them hurtling over the edge together. Or, maybe, Astarion encouraging Gale to ascend and having to trust him to return.

- they're the party members with the most life experience, and they're also both pretty well-educated (even if Astarion's law qualifications may well have expired by the events of the game). He spent his time under Cazador sewing (like Gale in his Baldur's Gate epilogue) and learning languages (of which Gale knows four). They have enduring common interests beyond their circumstances. Gale can help Astarion rediscover the latent nerd potential he lost when he died, and lord knows he would love to pick his brain for a first hand account of the mid-to-late 12th century.

- Astarion recently regained hope for his future when the tadpole freed him, Gale recently lost all of it. While act 1 is a continuous series of positive discoveries for Astarion (tadpole frees him from cazador -> ceremorphosis is held off by the dream visitor -> tadpole can be controlled), Gale's life gets worse with time as his treatment stops working. It's a dynamic that could give Gale hope, force Astarion to practise empathy, or put them completely at odds.

- Astarion's all-encompassing desire to reclaim his life could be inspiring to Gale. Moreover, I imagine seeing just how passive Gale is about his death would infuriate him. To have so little regard for his real, mortal, free life? It's a great source of angst, and also a great starting point for Gale to start wanting to live again. Because after learning about Astarion's past he would agree, he'd recognise how much value a mortal life was supposed to have. He'd think himself ungrateful or impolite for entertaining the idea of throwing it away when Astarion would give anything to have what he had. This would lead to guilt, and potentially self-loathing, unless someone was there to help pick up the pieces.

- If Astarion meets Oblodra before Gale's act 2 romance scene, (or for a fanfic plot, just before Gale is confident enough to confess) they most likely won't have sex until the graveyard scene in late act 3 (or the post-ascension equivalent). It means that rather than the fuckfest we so often see from bloodweave fics, the relationship is almost entirely a slow-burning, emotionally intimate affair. I'd really love to see that play out, the progression from semi-horny yearning on both parts as the orb keeps them apart, to two love confessions that are followed by the both of them experiencing non-sexual intimacy for the first time in years. I doubt Mystra was one to hug her chosen, after all, or hold their hands.

I just love a bg3 ship that forces the characters to take different actions than they do in canon. It makes me feel like I'm developing a broader understanding of the characters, you know?

#perhaps I will write a bw fic. since from the tags of my other post it seems like a lot of people want less-explicit work of them #and i (as the number 1 gale understander /s) have a dif perspective than a lot of bw writers (largely astarion stans)#im workin on a gale/illithid tav postgame whump based on one of my other posts first tho. which could be a chara study for him #and the nature of (this version of) bw is that it puts astarion out of his comfort zone more than gale. so id want to have a good handle on #gale so that the bw fic can focus on the astarion character study rather than me finding both characters kinda finicky #hmm. hmm #but regardless PLEASE PLEASE everyone is welcome to write fic based on/incorporating these and tag me I wanna see em so bad😭😭#bg3 #bloodweave #gale dekarios #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #astarion x gale #baldurs gate 3

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dancingbirdie · 3 months

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Ugh, I hate having to write this, but I feel like there needs to be a general PSA:

Writing smut and fanfics is something I do for free, take time out of my day to create, and share with y’all to enjoy OR ignore.

I’m not a smut-making factory, and it’s not my job to fulfill every single request. And while yes, I may ask for ideas or take requests, there’s no contract binding me to actually write ANYTHING at all.

Be kind to fanfic writers. Don’t demand that they write for you or try to guilt them for not writing enough of something.

We’re all just little dudes with limited timespans on a floating rock in space, trying to make things fun while we’re here.

— Birdie

#fanfic writing #smut writing #general psa #be kind #astarion smut #astarion x reader #dancingbirdiewrites #writers on tumblr #smut requests #fic request #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #writers are people too

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nivasichakano · 2 months

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Gale slumps in his study chair, head in one hand, a half-empty tumbler of whiskey in the other. He’s trying to focus on his research but all he can see in his mind’s eye is Astarion draped on his desk, laughing at some no doubt asinine comment of his own. Or Astarion, running his cool hands up and down Gale’s neck as he reads. Or Astarion, slipping onto his lap, lifting his chin, leaning in… * Astarion slumps at the bar of the Elfsong Tavern, head in one hand, a half-empty tumbler of whiskey in the other. He doesn’t even like whiskey. He only ordered it because it tasted like Gale. Chapter 10 of What Friends Are For is up now on AO3

#honk if you love mutual pining #honk #bloodweave #gale dekarios #astarion #gale of waterdeep #gale x astarion #astarion x gale #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #astarion ancunin #fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 fanart #bloodweave fanart #bloodweave fanfic

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nyushkawritesstuff · 3 months

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People be saying "minors dni" and then interact with stuff that was so painfully obviously written by a fourteen year old that came straight from wattpad smh

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amandacanwrite · 2 months

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The Violet Thread of Fate || Part Four: A Bath, A Temptation

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person Alternating Between Gale and Elinna (tav)

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It's not her fault; she hasn't ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she's read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn't take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || About 5,300 Words

Warnings || Age gap (about ten years, both adults) description of pining for someone's body (Gale pining for Elinna.) Mentions of abuse and neglect.

A/N || I hope you all like this installment of Violet Thread of Fate! Apologies for what seems like a relatively low-stakes set of chapters, I am trying to do some set up for bring Halsin, Astarion and The Fox into the narrative, but I needed to get Elinna and Gale just a smiiiidgen more established for it to go the way I'd like it to!

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

A Bath

It was a cold breeze that woke Elinna.

It slipped in from under the old wooden door; through the window, if it could be called that. It was just an opening in the decrepit masonry of the castle where she’d been left to rest.

It took her a moment for her to realize that the lumpy hay mattress and the damp, threadbare blanket on top of her were not her lumpy mattress and damp blanket from The Nest. For a moment she thought meeting Gale and winding up on the nautiloid was a dream; albeit a long winded one.

But when she rolled over in the bed and pulled the blanket tighter around her to fight off the bitter cold of the coastal breeze, she opened her eyes for a moment. There in the moon-gray dark of the night she found a room she was not at all familiar with.

She scanned the room in a half-awoken state, not thinking any real thoughts–more like bursts of impulse between the undulating waves of sleep that threatened to take her away in their churn.

She saw the usual desk. The privacy drape. The almost melted candle. Her waistcoat had been taken off and neatly folded, set on the writing desk. Her bloodied boots sat in a pile not far away from there; her gloves tossed down with them, also bloodied.. This room wasn’t her room…so what…ah–that’s right.

She’d been so exhausted she didn’t feel herself drift off to sleep. Gale had been carrying her on his back. Where was he?

Another breeze blew into the room and set her teeth to chattering. Gods above, how was it colder here than at The Nest?

She rose to her bare feet, keeping the blanket tight around her as she shuffled over to the desk.

She knew very few spells, of course. And most of them, she only knew with very little command–but there was one she was decent at, because she used it nearly every day. She could produce a flame.

Nothing terribly impressive, mind you–but it was more convenient than having to ask the ArchLibrarian for matches; more convenient than having him ask her why she was going through so many of them and finding out that she’d been sneaking books into her room to read while the others slept.

She breathed into her cold hands before shaking them, encouraging her blood flow into her fingertips. After giving her hands a few moments to catch up with the rest of her, she focused on the fingertips of her dominant hand, she took a deep breath and plucked at the same little flicker of magic she always used for this little party trick. She snapped her fingers, and sure enough, a single flame engulfed the farthest knuckle of her index finger, as if her two middle fingers had been a flint struck by her thumb.

She lowered that finger to the wick of the single candle in the room before shaking the flame off her fingertip the same way one might do with a matchstick.

It was hardly enough light for human eyes, but Elinna didn’t need much. She’d been lucky to pick up darkvision from her half-drow lineage; an appreciated perk despite how much she hated the violet tinge of her scars and freckles.

She caught a glimpse of those old scars on the inside of her arm and wondered idly if Gale had seen them. Wondered if he’d made any judgements of her based off of them.

The doorknob jangled and turned and Gale appeared in the doorway. Elinna looked over at him and was surprised at the flood of relief that filled her lungs. She hadn’t realized she was worried that he’d left her there and gone off on his own, but that was the only explanation she had for the shift in her sense of ease.

He was holding two tin plates with porridge, boiled fish, and roasted carrots piled in small, tidy quantities. They met eyes and Gale’s eye’s flicked about her.

“Oh–you’re awake,” Gale said, voice a bit choked with something she couldn’t identify.. “Are you feeling better?”

“Is your…hair wet?” she asked him.

He was newly dressed in a similar robe to before, but this one was slightly different. It had a shorter length with a more open panel in the front. He was wearing some more sturdy leather boots as well, and he had a new multi-layered belt with a knife and short sword holstered to it. He carried two small packs over one shoulder, which he dropped onto the ground near the desk.

“Oh, ah, yes,” he said, hurrying over to the writing desk to set down the plates. The scent of lavender and bay leaf rolled off of his warmer body with him in such close proximity. “I went to refresh myself and see if I couldn’t conjure a few comforts to get us through the night. While searching, I happened to find a natural hot spring.”

“You’re kidding!” she said, feeling a swell of relief all over again. Not only would she get to have a bath but a warm bath? What a treat. “You have to show me where it is! I’m dying for a hot bath.”

“It’s not far–just a hop and a skip behind the–”

A click sounded from the door and they both looked toward it. Gale’s brow tensed before he walked back over to the door, testing the knob. A willowy voice came through the door a moment later.

“Seeing as supper has been served and your lodgings are in order, we will be locking the door to prevent any unfortunate mishaps through the night,” it said.

“Absolutely not–we’re guests, not prisoners!” Gale shouted through the door. “Unlock this door right now.”

There was no answer.

“Open the door!” Gale demanded again.

“Don’t bother,” Elinna sighed. “He’s probably already gone–don’t you have a spell that could unlock it?”

“Under other circumstances, but I’m afraid my capacity to reach into the weave is utterly tapped out until I get a proper night of sleep,” he said a bit sourly. “How did you ever put up with conditions like this?” Gale griped, turning to her, his brow still furrowed. “I’ve never met such learned men who were so…so…asinine.”

Elinna shrugged and leaned against the edge of the desk, her ample hips displacing one of the unfortunate looking plates. “You get used to it, I guess,” she said. “They never locked us in when I was at The Nest, but we also never really got visitors…maybe it’s standard protocol.”

“You’d think they had Karsus’s Grimoire locked up in their archives,” he said, smearing a hand down his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.

While Gale had his conniption, Elinna was realizing with no shortage of disappointment that her hopes for a hot bath were all but dashed. Unless…

“Hey Gale…” She said as looked over toward the bath with a little pout. “I know you said you’re tapped out…but do you think you have the energy for a little cantrip?”

“Probably,” he said, looking skeptically at the plate of food and pushing the boiled fish with one of the wooden utensils given to them. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…do you think you could conjure up some hot water for me to take a bath?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Gale said as he blinked, his brows shooting up. “With me in the room?”

“Please,” she begged gently. “I feel so disgusting. If I have to sleep like this while you’re sitting in here looking all sparkly and smelling nice, I’m going to feel even worse.”

“Absolutely not,” he said. “Elinna, you shouldn’t take baths with strange men you just met. Er–rather–with them nearby.”

“You’re not strange! You’re Gale Dekarios! And there are drapes for privacy,” she said insistently. “It’s not like I’ll be putting on a show for you or something.”

“A Drape! Singular! And it’s holding onto its sorry, threadbare life by a thread!”

“Gale, what else am I supposed to do?” she asked. “I’m still covered in blood and sweat–I need a bath.”

“You can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll have our very bland supper–get some sleep, and–”

He met her eyes again and she wasn’t sure what he saw there, but whatever it was it seemed to pull on his heart strings. He rubbed the back of his neck before using the same hand to smear down his face.

“Fine,” he said. “I got my chance to clean up, it seems only fair that you get yours. I can only imagine how wrong it feels with myself being properly tidied up and you still…well… I must emphasize, however, that this falls squarely outside of the usual confines of propriety.”

Elinna beamed and nodded eagerly, thankfully.

“Duly noted,” Elinna said. “I promise I won’t tell your mother.”

He leveled her a deadpan look. “Don’t patronize me,” he said. “It’s not about being afraid of my mother it’s–”

“I’m just teasing you,” Elinna said. “Don’t worry, Gale. I trust you to be a gentleman. And besides that–I’m pretty sure that you don’t see me as…well– I just mean–it’s not as if I’m trying to seduce you. If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he agreed quickly.

“I’ll be quick,” she said. “I promise.”

Gale heaved a sigh and picked up the other plate, handing it over to her.

“Let’s eat this unfortunate meal and then I’ll get your bath ready,” he said. “It looks utterly inedible, but we’ll need whatever strength we can get for the journey tomorrow.”

She smiled and nodded, taking a bite of the familiar mush on her plate.

A Temptation

Gale had always been told that hunger was the best seasoning–he supposed that didn’t apply to the fare served at The Scribe’s Guild. Yet he choked down every bite of those roasted carrots; that boiled fish–in hopes of prolonging the inevitable.

If I thought at all that I was a temptation to you, I promise, I would wait until tomorrow.

Why hadn’t he spoken up then? Why hadn’t he argued with her further?

Well, likely because, in order for him to object to what she’d said, he would have to admit his own embarrassing thoughts of attraction to the young woman. Admit that he had been having plenty of improprietous thoughts about her as he had her hoisted up on his back–when his hand had supported the softness of her waist.

He told himself it was a strategic move. That he needed her in order to safeguard against what might be catastrophic down the road. The true resurrection in his possession would do little good without someone available to cast it, after all. He needed an ally and he wouldn't risk losing one because he was touch starved and lonesome and…er… long deprived.

He told himself that the sooner she bathed, the sooner she would be properly dressed. The less he would have to remind himself to look away from the delicate skin of her chest and the way the neckline of her muslin dress fell off her shoulders despite the number of times she pushed her sleeves back up where it was meant to sit.

Now that he thought about it–very little of her clothing seemed to fit properly. Her waistcoat fit well enough, but her dress was oddly loose; she seemed to swim in it.

He was glad he’d been able to find something for her to wear, hoped that they fit properly and that she didn’t mind wearing Mystra’s colors–and slightly outdated fashions. Then again, he doubted The Nest cared much about the current trends in women’s clothing.

When they were finally finished eating, Gale begrudgingly prepared a hot bath for Elinna, the act simple, really–even with the majority of his energy spent. It was a simple enough process and, if he was honest, seeing her face brighten when it was done was almost enough to make it worth the discomfort of feeling like a rakish cad. He conjured some light in the room to make it look more like a lodging and less like they were thieves sneaking around by candlelight.

She was practically buzzing with excitement to get in, so he leaned over and handed her the smaller of the two packs he’d put together.

“I put a change of clothes in here, I think it should fit, but let me know if it doesn’t,” he said.

“Oh! You…just have women’s clothes laying around?” she asked.

He gave her a withering look. “It sounds awful when you say it like that. No, not just lying around. It’s an old gift from…a friend. It’s one of the old cleric robes that followers of Mystra used to wear.”

“Really?” Elinna said, green eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “Any imbued magic is, unfortunately, long gone. But it should be a little nicer than the leathers and canvases you’ve been wearing. They don’t seem well suited for travel…”

A lie, of course. Aside from Elinna’s boots, her clothing was more than suitable enough for traveling. But the longer he’d thought about the scars on the delicate skin of her wrist and forearm, the more his stomach churned at the idea of her putting those garments back on.

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much, but it did. It still did–even while she was dressed down to her tan dress and leather trousers; even as she barely looked like she belonged to the strange order that was putting them up for the night.

He was still trying to figure it out as she hurried behind the privacy curtain and started to undress.

He wouldn’t have known she was undressing–except the lighting he’d created in the room was just placed well enough that her shadow cast against the threadbare drape as she pulled her muslin dress up and over her head. The light caught the softness of her waist, the gentle, sloping curve of her breast before it peaked at her nipple.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her. He would just need to distract himself.

He told himself it wasn’t Elinna in particular that was pulling this silly desire out of him; that if could have been any member of the fairer sex that had this effect on him. Elinna just happened to be the convenient, ever present option.

He insisted that had to be the case as he heard the quiet slosh of Elinna stepping into the hot water and heaving out a comforted sigh. He took a book out of his pack to distract himself from imagining what she looked like flushed across her shoulders and her chest from the hot bath water. He glared down at his book about foraging in the wild as he tried not to wonder if the comforted sounds she made in the bath would be the same if she were touched in just the right places.

“So–shall we get to know each other better?” Elinna asked from her bath.

Gale nearly jumped out of his skin, teeth grinding.

“Elinna, don’t speak to me while you’re bathing,” he said, his tone clipped.

“Why not?” she asked him.

He heaved a sigh while bunting the heel of his hand against his forehead. Mystra grant him strength. “Elinna, I don’t want to be an ass, but are you so far removed from civilization that you can’t glean why it’s not appropriate for a bathing woman to be holding casual conversation with a man?”

There was a moment of silence, the sound of water being poured, the faint trickle of movement in the tub. “I mean–not that far removed, no,” she said. “I used to sing in the taverns back in Moonshae. Plenty a drunken man has told me what parts of me he wanted to see and well…they weren't my eyes, let me just say that.”

“So then why the play at naivety?” Gale asked, resisting the urge to turn toward her. “You clearly know why it could be a problem to talk to a man while you’re nude. The…intimacy of it.”

“I suppose I just…thought you were above such things,” she said. “I just thought that our unique circumstances lent themselves to bending the rules of propriety just a bit.”

Gale sighed. She was right–he should be able to act with a little more decorum than the drunks at the taverns. He should be able to extract a more distilled version of his maturity and be able to speak to a young woman without thinking so much about the shape of her body and what it would be like to feel it under his hands.

“Gale?” she asked. “Are you angry?”

“No,” he said, turning a page in the book he was reading without really seeing it. “Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve had such constant company. Most of the time it was just me and my tressym, Tara. She was stimulating company to be sure, but it’s been a while since I’ve had more human companionship. I admit I’m not used to it.”

“I’ve never really had it,” she said. “I guess that’s why I’m so keen to fill the silence. It’s hard not to be excited to have a friend.”

“A friend…” he said, repeating that word again. It was the second time she’d called him that since they’d met.

“Oh–” she said, her voice getting smaller. “I suppose that is a bit presumptive…I’ve done it a couple times already, too. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Gale said. “If I’m honest–I just feel a bit guilty because I’ve hardly been a good friend to you. It doesn’t feel like I’ve earned the title.”

“You’ve been a splendid friend–perhaps not at our first meeting, but every moment since,” she said. “You tried your best to keep me safe from the Nautiloid even though you barely knew me. And then you offered to accompany me to try and figure out what to do about these parasites…”

“To be fair, you’ve been a great help to me, as well,” he said. “You helped me out of that pocket realm and found this place; got us room and board for the night.”

“That’s what friends do,” Elinna said easily.

“Elinna,” he said. “Since we’re friends…can I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Those scars on the inside of your wrist–”

There was an abrupt sound of something heavy plunking into the water, like she’d dropped her hands into the tub to hide the scars he’d mentioned.

“I don’t have to ask about them if you’d rather not talk about it,” he said. “I’m not trying to pry, or to bring up something painful…”

“No, it’s okay. I suppose it’s only fair that I be honest about it if we’re going to be traveling together,” she said. “Mm–what’s your question about them?”

“Did your caretakers at The Nest do that to you?” he asked.

“Tney did,” she said. “A long time ago, the ArchLibrarian at The Nest wasn’t very kind. When I was six and he was teaching me how to read, he used it as a method to deter me from failing.”

“Hells,” Gale said under his breath. “I can only imagine how well that worked…”

He heard her laugh a little and for some reason it hurt his heart. “Not terribly well,” she admitted. “But I needed to learn to read in order to be able to return the archives to their homes on the shelves. That was when I started sneaking literature into my room at night, so I could practice reading on my own.”

“Did the punishments stop after that?” Gale asked.

“Well–that particular ArchLibrarian died and a new one took over,” she said. “So the caning stopped, but other punishments took its place. Sometimes I’d be sent to bed without supper, or if I really made an error I’d be tasked with handling the rats and spiders in the cellars. It only took one bout of paralysis for me to do everything I could to avoid that particular punishment.”

“How did you make it out of there with all of the…earnest fervor you have? If I was in such a situation, I feel like I would have disappeared within myself.”

“You see my overcoat out there?” Elinna asked.

“Yes.”

“If you open the breast pocket there’s a little locket inside.”

Gale hesitated for a moment, feeling odd about rifling through her things, but he finally carefully looked through the folds of canvas and leather until he found the piece of jewelry.

It was a lovely, delicate little thing. It was about the size of a gold piece and fastened to a velvet choker that was worn threadbare in some places. It had been handled a lot, almost like someone had rubbed their thumb against the plush fabric habitually. The pendant was a dark metal with almost a violet sheen to it. There was a thin sliver of a crescent moon on it with a couple sitting on it as if it were a hammock, cradling a child between them.

Elinna’s name was written in Drowic on the seam of the locket.

“It’s imbued with drow magic,” Gale said.

“Mhmn,” she responded. “Powerful stuff, too. I’ve never been able to find someone to open it. That locket is the last thing my mother gave me before leaving me on the steps of The Nest.”

“Why not just find a wizard to do it for you?” Gale asked.

“I tried to,” she said. “But the last one I spoke to told me it may have some sort of bond with my blood–that I’d have to be the one to open it.”

Gale examined the piece a little closer, feeling out the weave and the threads of magic, following their winding paths.

Whomever Elinna had spoken to had spoken true, the threads all coalesced on her. Any wizard worth his salt would know that trying to manipulate that magic might destroy the item all together.

“Do you think your mother was a wizard?” Gale asked.

“I don’t know,” Elinna said. “I think I’ve just always hoped that if I could get it open, I could find where I really belong.”

The orb in Gale’s chest reached out for the thrumming weave in Elinna’s locket. He rubbed his free hand over his chest where the bundle of magic growled for the item, as if a bit of petting could soothe the burning hunger there.

Not this one, he told the netherese shred of magic in his chest, just a bit longer and I’ll get you something we can use.

“So that’s why you came looking for a teacher,” he said. “And why you wouldn’t settle for someone who could teach you simple folk magic or healing magic.”

“Yes,” she said. “And why I was hesitant about your offer to introduce me to another teacher…but…well beggars, choosers.”

Gale heard her take in a deep breath and then a small splash as Elinna dipped beneath the surface of the water. While she soaked out of earshot, he carefully put the locket beneath layers of fabric, careful not to leave it out for the sun to get to it and hurt the magic sourced from the underdark.

He was having a hard time not getting distracted by this girl. This was always his plight; he was always far too empathetic to deal with stories like Elinna’s. He was a bleeding heart for people who were unlucky and downtrodden–people who were alone in life and had no one to encourage them.

Gale had the sudden wish to take her back to Waterdeep–to introduce her to his mother who somehow always had extra love to spare. It wouldn’t have been the first time his mother made up for a lack of love in one of his friends’ lives, but Elinna perhaps deserved it more than anyone else.

He heard Elinna resurface and heave out a sigh before starting to get out of the tub.

“Done already?” he asked.

“I promised I would go quick,” she said. “Besides, it feels strange to talk to you without looking at you.”

He focused down on his book as he listened to the faint shift and twinkle of the clothes he’d fetched for her. He heard the faint little grunt as she dressed, the sound of belts being unbuckled and buckled once more, and then she came around the privacy drape, newly clothed.

Her amber hair fell in damp ribbons down past her waist, her face was faintly flushed with the warmth from the bath. She looked comfortable and at ease in her new clothes, though he somewhat regretted the reminder of Mystra on the tapered ends of her skirt and the collar of the leather padding.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Oh, so much better,” she said with a soft breath. “The clothes are a bit tight but…I also don’t have many clothes that properly fit me. Does it look okay?”

She turned this way and that.

The truth was, she looked fetching in it. The greens and tans of the Scribe’s Guild livery may have done more for the verdant quality of her eyes, but the pale violets and ashen chainmail of the cleric’s robes made the color of her coppery hair all the more vibrant, and paired nicely with the almost mauve quality to her freckles.

He chose not to think of the ways the openings of the skirt cleared a path all the way up to her thigh, and thought even less on how well the lines of her violet trousers followed the full curve of said thigh.

“It fits you like a glove,” Gale finally said. “Nothing looks too tight from where I’m sitting.

She smiled at him and heaved a happy breath. “Thank you again for giving me something new to wear,” she said. “It feels good to be clean again. I was worried I’d be stuck in blood stained clothes.”

“Happy to help,” he said with a pressed smile. “When I have a bit more energy, I’ll get some more comfortable lounging clothes for you to wear so you don’t have to sleep in armor.”

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “At least, I can put up with it for now–probably better to be safe than sorry anyway.”

“You should never underestimate the importance of a good night’s rest,” Gale said.

“Speaking of which, you should probably get to bed, don’t you think?” she suggested.

“Me?” he asked. “No, I meant you.”

“I’ve already gotten some sleep, I’ll remind you–you on the other hand, have not,” she said. “And besides, there’s only one bed.”

“I’ll sleep on a bedroll on the floor,” he said. “You take the bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she said.

“First of all, yes you are, I can see it in your face. Second of all, this is likely the last full night of sleep we’ll get for a while, considering soon enough we will have to take turns keeping watch. So you take the bed.”

“I think I may be able to out-last you,” she said.

“Do not,” Gale said. “Make this a competition.”

“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?” she teased.

“Afraid neither of us will get the sleep we need because I’m terribly competitive. My mother won’t even look at a lanceboard anymore,” he said.

She laughed and the sound brushed up against some long forgotten impulse in the back of his mind–one he’d put away a long time ago.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I’ll take the bed, but I still haven’t gotten much of a chance to get to know you better–you already have a full catalog of my childhood and all of the piteous stories that go along with it.”

She walked over to the bed and sat back down on it.

“Lie down and I promise to tell you all about my childhood–though I’m afraid it’s not nearly as tragic as yours….it may feel more like I’m bragging, actually,” Gale said.

“Hmm,” she said. “I think I can put up with a bit of bragging. I like listening to you talk.”

She laid herself down on the bed and turned onto her side to look at him, folding her arm under her head to use as a makeshift pillow. “Regale me,” she said. “No pun intended.”

He barked a soft laugh. “Careful with telling a man like me that you enjoy listening to me talk,” he said. “I’ll take far too much advantage of something like that.”

“I do, though,” she said. “After a life spent in a library, you can’t blame me for enjoying the simple pleasure of a good conversation.”

“Well–there will be no shortage of good conversation with me,” he said. “The only thing I’m better at than magic is talking–gratuitously.”

She chuckled and his heart fluttered a little as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. He got started talking before he let his mind drift to the last time a woman looked at him like that and what activities may have preceded or followed that look..

He told her about his youth–about how he was such a gifted young wizard that he’d caught the attention of Elminster, and then Mystra herself. He left out the part about taking Mystra as a lover. He skipped his inevitable folly and luckily, by the time he got to that part of his story, Elinna had already started gently dozing off between sounds of acknowledgement in regards to what he was saying.

With time, her quiet mhmn’s and uh-huh’s ceased and he was almost certain that she was crossing the threshold into a proper, restful sleep.

He swapped from talking about himself to reading out of the foraging book to fill the quiet room so that she didn’t automatically wake in the new silence that took the place of his prattling. When her breaths became slow and steady, though, he set the book aside and got his bedroll ready for the floor.

He’d be feeling the ache in his bones the next day, of course, but it was only what could be considered right for their sleeping arrangements. An older man shouldn’t share a bed with a young woman–least of all one he’d spent the better part of a day trying not to have improper thoughts about.

He dropped his concentration on his light evocations and sent a little gust of air to blow out the candle that more resembled a pool of melted tallow. His bedroll was close enough to the bed that he could hear Elinna’s rhythmic inhalations and exhalations. He looked outside as the moon hovered. Far away, he could hear the hush of waves crashing on the shore and for a moment he almost felt like he was back at home.

He closed his eyes and let himself imagine that he was laid in bed with Tara curled up next to him and the promise of a warm cup of tea in the very near future.

He couldn’t decide, however, if he was quite as homesick as he should be.

As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but admit to himself that it was nice to have the warm presence of another person near him. He couldn’t help but admit that he had missed the closeness of another body–the camaraderie of a shared experience, however terrible this one had turned out to be.

Maybe he could try taking on an apprentice again afterall.

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