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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 13: …because I am my husband's life as fully as he is mine.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

The special day arrives.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @lirotation

Ban stared at the gowns laid before her. There were three, in contrast to Astarion’s four suits. He’d hired several painters to sketch out portraits, some in the days before the event and some on the day itself. Today.

The maid braiding her hair tugged at a strand a little too tightly, but she barely noticed. On the opposite end of the room, Gale entered.

”Ah. Ban.” He nodded. “Just picking up the suits.” He reached for them, hanging from a coatstand near the doorway, but had to pause to shove away the silver-curl-topped head that threatened to poke through the door. “No peeking, Astarion! Don’t make me put up wards!”

Ban stifled a laugh as she heard a low growl, a chuckle, and then the sound of steps stalking away.

”He’s impatient,” Gale grinned, finally gathering all four ensembles in his arms. “But you already knew that.”

”You’d think he wouldn’t be, considering we’ve seen each other in these outfits before.” She remembered posing for portraits, having to hold poses stiffly - not a new occurrence, but they’d worn these outfits for them. It had felt… odd, seeing herself in wedding finery, white silks and embroidered fabrics. She was more comfortable with wearing more extravagant clothing now, but some of these outfits were well beyond what she was accustomed to. She’d imagined marrying someone, of course, but she’d figured it would be one of her father’s arranged events - a son of some fellow merchant or someone of import. Never had she considered it would be someone she’d actually love.

Not until the nautiloid, she supposed. She brought the old fantasy to mind.

Astarion in a crisp white suit, the color matching his hair. He’d smile at her, waiting for her as she walked down the aisle. The sun would shine on both of them somehow, but the tadpole would be gone - how this would be possible, she’d never thought to consider. He’d beam, his fangs making an appearance as she approached, and he’d offer her his hand, which she would take. She would be the happiest woman in Faerûn.

Another tug on her hair, and Ban sighed, opening her eyes. Their wedding would be at sunset, which meant a whole day of not seeing each other. The last time they hadn’t been glued to each other’s side was - she brushed the thought away.

Irrelevant. It will never happen again.

She instead allowed her eyes to gaze into the mirror, watching herself. She was still in her silken robe, a rich royal purple, but her eyes were locked onto her own. Still black, miraculously. Still her. She absently opened her mouth, a finger pulling her lip up to see her fangs for the first time. They weren’t anything impressive, and she sighed, letting go of her lip.

The maid doing her braids looked at her in the mirror. “You are still lovely, madam. Even if you are…” she trailed off.

Ban chuckled nervously. “I never was. But thank you.”

“That most certainly isn’t what our lord thinks,” the maid said amusedly. She resumed her work and left Ban to ponder her words.

Gale walked in to find Astarion preening in front of a mirror, styling his hair. He wordlessly hung the suits one by one. The to-be-groom seemed perfectly level, fingers carefully raking through and arranging the silver curls into their usual perfectly-coiffed style, but Gale could see the slight tremor in his hand.

“How is she doing?” His eyes remained fixed on his reflection, his voice calm with only the faintest tremble. “I need to remind her to clasp the back of her cape properly, else the whole thing hangs off-center. There are six buttons she has to do; three on each side. One of them is rather tricky - the holes are hidden in-”

“She is perfectly fine. Her maids will attend to her clothes. There’s no need to be concerned about a malfunction.” Gale waved him off dismissively, and Astarion sighed.

“Fine. Do you have the rings, at least?”

Gale patted his pocket. “Of course.”

“Be a dear and don’t lose them.”

Gale noted the irritability, but the nervousness behind Astarion’s tone was obvious. “I’ll try not to. If I do misplace them, however, don’t drink me dry, please?”

At Astarion’s irritated huff, Gale laughed and left him with a final quip of, “Don’t fiddle with your hair too much, Astarion, she may change her mind if she sees you with frizz. Positively hideous.”

They were both laughing as Gale exited, closing the door behind him.

They met in the gardens.

She walked down the small steps to see a figure in white, hair shining in the dying light of the sun. He was fidgeting with the buttons on his cuffs, huffing as he struggled to fit the buttons into the holes.

He was turned away from her, and did not notice her approach.

“Astarion?”

Her voice startled him, and he turned to face her. He swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

”Ban. Do you mind-” He held his sleeve up.

She approached him, taking his hand carefully and began to fit the buttons through. As she did she eyed him, meeting his gaze. He offered her a quick smile.

”Thank you.” He drew her close, hands settling around her waist to tug her to him. “I missed you.”

”It’s been…” she frowned, “less than eight hours since we last saw one another.”

”Doesn’t mean I can’t pine for my wife, does it?” He buried his face in the crook of her neck and exhaled, a long, drawn-out release of air that told her all she needed to know. “Even a minute of your absence is excruciating.”

She placed her hands on his back, rubbing gently. “You weren’t missing me. You’re nervous.” He raised his head, eyes narrowed. “Which is perfectly fine,” Ban added quickly before he could get a word in edgewise.

His brows smoothed out and he acknowledged her words with a stiff nod. “That does not mean both could not be true.”

”I guess you’re right.” She gently placed a hand on his cheek, watching the tension melt from his features as he leaned into the touch. “Any second thoughts? You still have time to say no, you know.”

“Of course not.” He scoffed, eyebrows knitting back together. “I disappear for a few hours, and you fill your head with the silliest of notions. Which of us can’t manage mere hours without the other, hm?”

”It was a joke.” She pecked his cheek.

His shoulders sagged and his features softened. “I am aware. It’s simply… difficult, comprehending being…” he threw both hands up, gesturing at them and the garden around them, “here. I never allowed myself the luxury of thinking of having a future at all - let alone this one.”

“Even during our adventuring days?”

Astarion pursed his lips, pensive. “At the start I assumed we would all part ways, or die.”

“Astarion,” Ban frowned, “we were seeing each other!”

“And I thought I was using you,” he answered without hesitating. “Later on there was the threat of Cazador and the Absolute, not to mention the rite itself. I did not have room to consider what life would be past those events.” He frowned and his eyes flicked away. “We’re both painfully aware of what happened after that, of course.”

“My love,” she murmured, the sobriquet slipping from her lips; she realized she never really used them, almost never outside sex. His eyes met hers, widening in surprise and then joy, and quietly chastised herself for not using them more. “I know. We both know. We’re also past that.”

He exhaled. “I am aware.” She could tell he was still tense, whether it be because of the mention of those six months, or the wedding itself. She placed a hand over his breast, felt the hammering there, and sighed.

Leaning forward, and on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Look at me?”

He did so, a chagrined smile on his face. He dipped his head. “Just… nervous.”

“It’ll be fine. Nothing will change. It’s just a ceremony, a soiree, like any other, and that’s all it is. Paperwork. It doesn’t have to matter if you don’t want it to. If that helps calm your nerves.”

Astarion scanned her face, then shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we both know this isn’t mere theatrics to me. I refuse to belittle it that way.” He took a small, aborted breath. “So little of my life has meant anything. Let this mean something, Ban. Let me be nervous and excited. Let me feel this, because it means everything to me.”

His mind touched hers, disparate thoughts flitting through. Redemption, finally. Joy, that he had been chosen by her, wanted by her. Worthy to be the one waiting as she walked down the aisle. Worthy of being the man she’d bind herself to. Enough.

She smiled, her thumb tracing his cheekbone. “Of course it means something, and of course I want you to feel it as I do. I merely meant, well. If that sort of thinking would help ease your nerves, then it might be useful.” He leaned into her touch, eyes shuttering as his shoulders finally lowered. She drew in close, pressing their foreheads together; she on tiptoes and him bending down to accommodate her.

He exhaled, the warm air rushing over her face. She saw his lips part and kept her peace, waiting for him to speak.

“Thank you,” he finally mouthed, eyes still firmly shut. The hammering beneath her palm quieted some, and she pressed her lips to his.

There were flowers everywhere. Roses of every shade adorned each side of the aisle. The archway that they would stand under was just as she’d envisioned. She had known how it would look, had arranged everything with the florists, but seeing it all in its full glory as she peeked through a window sent a thrill down her spine.

Everyone she knew and loved was there, mingling as they prepared to take their seats - everyone save one. He was sequestered away, just as she was, in preparation for the ceremony. She caught a quick glimpse of Karlach fidgeting with her dress and Halsin looking uncomfortable in an old suit.

There was a knock at the door. She called out to an invitation to come in and it opened, revealing Wyll.

“The blushing bride.” He held out his arms and Ban stood for a tight hug.

As Wyll pulled away she looked out at the crowd, watching as they began to take their seats. “Who knew, hm?”

He stood beside her, crossing his arms. “Who knew, indeed.” He caught her gaze and offered a smile. “Shadowheart filled us in on everything that happened. A lot passes you by when you’re stuck in Avernus.”

“I don’t doubt that. Have you talked to Astarion?”

“A little, this morning.” Wyll ran a hand over a horn. “He seemed glad that I approached him, but his mind was elsewhere. I don’t blame him.”

“He’s happy you’re all here,” Ban offered. “I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d get to see you two again after the reunion.”

“In much happier circumstances, too,” he nodded. “We’re glad to be here. Perhaps the next wedding will be ours.”

Ban blinked twice. “Does Karlach know?”

He shook his head. “It won’t be anytime soon, but closer than she and everyone else thinks. I figure with our lives being so full of danger, she might want some time to settle after we’ve fixed her heart.”

“Well, if you need anything,” she said, clapping his shoulder, “you can always ask me. Or Astarion, for that matter.”

Wyll offered her another shy smile. “I’ll go ahead. Tell everyone to prepare. Shadowheart will come for you when it’s time.”

She nodded and Wyll left, leaving her to her thoughts. Not that there were any other than the present, the seconds seeming to tick by extremely slowly. Her mind wandered aimlessly, refusing to focus on any one thing for very long in an attempt to avoid thinking of how nervous she was starting to feel.

Ban had no idea how much time had passed, but it felt like mere seconds later when a bouquet was pressed onto her hands. Numerous people were suddenly checking her hair and makeup one last time and smoothing her dress into place. She took a nervous breath, keeping her eyes fixed upwards as she felt tears begin to pool. Crying would ruin the kohl.

“Take a deep breath.” Shadowheart’s hand on Ban’s shoulder startled her and she jerked, head snapping around to lock eyes with her friend.

“Is… Is it time?” Ban shuffled nervously, making sure to not step on the train of her gown.

“He’s waiting for you.” Shadowheart gathered most of the train, and they made their way out of the room. As they approached the main garden Ban swallowed; she could hear the music increasing in volume with every step.

She stopped in her tracks, Shadowheart almost tripping over the dress behind her. “I-” Ban turned to face her.

“This is it,” she choked out; tears filled her eyes and she blinked, trying to not let them fall. It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. It was a trite ceremony, and they were already eternally bound. She could think about the significance of it all later, when there were less eyes on her.

But she remembered his words, remembered him asking her to let it matter. She wanted to touch his mind, but they had agreed not to.

No cheating, he’d told her, after they’d had their final pre-wedding kiss earlier today. I want to feel it the way it was meant to be felt.

She’d understood what he meant. To experience it as if they were not vampires with a mental bond. As if they were just them.

Shadowheart approached her, carefully dabbing her tears away before they could spill. “We’ve faced worse, and you did it all fearlessly. You can do this.”

Ban nodded. “I know. I just…”

Feel it. She took one deep breath.

Shadowheart squeezed her hand one last time. “Walk as soon as your music starts.” She went ahead, taking her place next to Gale to walk down the aisle with him.

She stood there for a painful few minutes, hidden from view by a hedge. The music started, the song she’d picked for herself. Steeling her nerves, Ban took one last breath and walked to the aisle.

The setting sun hit her eyes first, blinding her for a moment. Her vision cleared and she saw the same roses, the same aisles, the same ivy-wrapped archway, but the seats were now full of people watching her. The music wasn’t quiet at all, but it was completely drowned out by her racing heart.

Her eyes locked onto that familiar glint of silver, the crimson of his eyes burning into her even from this distance. He had his hands clasped together, his face carefully neutral, shifting into an uncertain, boyish smile as their eyes met. Time froze. Nothing else mattered. Not Ulder standing by Astarion, not Gale holding the ring box in his hands. Not the music, nor the artists quickly sketching off to the side. Not the scent of roses or the blazing sunset. Not one other thing existed. Just him.

She took a step onto the red carpet. Then another. She could feel the slight drag of the train of her dress, requiring slightly more effort to place one foot in front of the other. She could feel the bite of the heeled shoes, a little tight, on her feet, and the subtle change in her posture to accommodate walking with an elevated heel. The feel of the satin ribbon holding the bouquet together contrasted with the rougher stems of the flowers it bound. The gown’s fabric slid against her body, shifting with every move.

Her mind registered all this, part of her begging to dwell on these trivial sensations, to hide behind her walls again.

We don’t cry. Not in public. Not like this. Not where everyone can see.

Her father’s words. Not hers.

Instead, she allowed herself to feel.

Every step brought her closer to the archway - to him. His smile was slightly wider now, but his eyes were wide and misty. She remembered everything - nights under the shelter of their tent, cuddled by the campfire, the soft press of his lips against her temple. Strong, slender fingers grasping her wrist, tugging her away from whatever trap she had missed in her rush. Those same capable hands undoing the straps of her breastplate, a small huff of annoyance as the armor snagged on her underclothes, tearing them, knowing those same hands would repair them later that same night. The scent of bergamot and rosemary, clinging to her clothes as they parted for the day, something she’d imagined she could still smell even under her armor. The sound of his voice, always the first one she sought out; his thoughts, his quips, even the playful little insults he’d throw her way.

Then more recently, their hands clasped in meetings, sly glances and hidden smirks as they mentally discussed the people they were making deals with. The press of his lithe body against hers as they twirled around the dance floor, leading her effortlessly. The heated kisses, his lips trailing a fiery path from her lips to her breasts, his hands tangled in hers. Breathless moans, whispered promises of eternal love - no longer only promises, but truth. Seeing his face every dawn, reaching across the bed and always finding him there, every time without fail, whether he was watching her or reading a book or sipping tea-

Astarion gave her a small, encouraging nod, and she smiled in return. The tears finally fell, wet as they traced a path down her cheeks, but she was beyond caring. She took a few more steps, bringing her closer to him - to her fate, to everything that had ever mattered and the only thing that ever truly would.

Hers. Hard-fought and almost lost, but hers now, for however long their immortal lives lasted - forever, she vowed, and even beyond.

She stopped. Faced him. He swallowed, his smile fading as he took a step towards her, his hand held out for hers. It was a gesture they’d made countless times, in countless ways - helping each other up in combat, in camp, at breakfasts and dinners and meetings and parties - but this felt like the first time. She placed her hand on his, feeling the skin under hers, smooth and trembling, but still the same. Always.

They stood side by side as Ulder recited the rites. None of it was anything she’d remember, she thought. Her eyes were on him, from the perfectly coiffed hair to the slightly-trembling hands clasped behind his back, to the embroidery on his shoes. She reached out, and to her relief he noticed and responded in kind, even though his eyes never left Ulder. His index finger touched her first, gently tracing the back of her hand. His lips curled at the corner, his eyes crinkling even as his gaze remained ahead. Ban slipped her hand into his and felt him squeeze.

“Do you, Lord Astarion Ancunín, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

For the first time since the ceremony began his eyes moved over her. They were large, wet, and painfully beautiful. He shot her a grin before turning back to Ulder. “I do.” The hand holding hers was cold, and she fought back the urge to reach over and rub warmth back into it.

The same question was leveled at her. She met Ulder’s gaze while he spoke, but made sure her eyes were locked on Astarion’s as she uttered her response. His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly at her words, eyes flicking downwards for the briefest of seconds, then settling back on her face.

Then Gale approached, the rings kept in a small, ornate box. He opened the lid, offering it up to Astarion, who nimbly took her ring in his hands. He playfully bounced the ring on his knuckle, to the crowd’s delight, then looked at her.

“I am not prone to… long speeches, or poetry, for that matter,” Astarion began, the ring passing between his thumb and index finger as he fidgeted with it. “Nor am I the kind of person who usually appreciates public declarations of love. However, with you I could enjoy anything, and that includes this.”

His hand drifted down, patting his hip anxiously. “You probably weren’t the best leader, likely not even the best companion - I’d wager Wyll wins out over everyone in that regard.”

Ulder laughed; Ban glanced over at Wyll, who gave her a small wink. Astarion continued. “Back then… you tended to make frankly foolhardy decisions - thought with your blade rather than your brain… except when it came to me. With me…” he paused, thinking, “you seemed to think with your heart. Yet another foolish thing to be doing at such a time, darling, but I very much appreciated it.”

“I cared little for you at the start. In truth I didn’t know how to care for anyone, and certainly didn’t think anyone could care for me… despite my dashing good looks.” He huffed out a high-pitched laugh, one she hadn’t heard in what felt like forever. He grew somber then, and continued. “But I quickly grew to love you. I grew to treasure every single moment we spent together, from camping out in the wilderness to the most mundane arguments about which vase would match the drapes. We’ve already lived through a lifetime’s worth of tribulations in our time together, but look at us.” He gestured at her and then himself. “We held on to one another, through every challenge. We have worked so hard to be the people we are today. To seize this happiness for ourselves and for one another.”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the curls as his fingers carded through them. “And while there’s little doubt we’ll run into more trouble, because of course,” he rolled his eyes. “I do so knowing that you will be with me for all of it. Knowing that my every sunrise and sunset will be spent with you. Knowing that…” his breath caught, and Ban squeezed his hand. He swallowed. “that after two centuries… I am finally enough, the way that I am. Perhaps quite a bit more than enough at times, darling,” he chuckled.

Astarion straightened up. “But now that I am enough… I stand here today and I vow to love you forever. For the rest of time, even when the sun burns out and we give ourselves to the night. When we face whatever lies beyond - I vow to love you then too.”

His hand took hers, slipping the ring onto her finger. It did not meet much resistance, the cold metal settling in place easily. They both looked down at it, at how it seemed to belong there, as if it had always been there but just out of sight.

Gale’s movement brought her back to the moment. The box was held out to her, and she took Astarion’s ring. It was larger than hers, heavier, with a slightly thicker band, and with engraving identical to hers. She looked at him and saw the same hunger in his eyes as the day she’d asked him to marry her, that ravenous need clear in the set of his features.

“I wasn’t… born for this. Not for any of it. My life was supposed to be one of quiet subservience, to be what I was raised to be. I left that behind, and then I thought my life would be one of unassuming simplicity. Not… not these gardens. Not this palace, or the journey we all had. Not immortality. Not you.” She bit her lip, a fang catching on it. “I think we were both done a great favor the day the nautiloid took us. It brought me to you, and you to me.”

“The way fate works is something I don’t pretend to comprehend. I don’t think any god looked kindly on us before that day,” she snuck a glance at Withers, who merely nodded, “but neither do I think it was mere chance. We were… meant to be here. Meant to meet, meant to go through everything we did and everything else we will encounter. Each meant for the other,” she added, watching his lips curl as he acknowledged her words.

“You waited far too long for me, while I did not have to wait long at all. There’s no compensation that can make up for all that,” and she shook her head as he opened his mouth, “but I hope that I can at least begin to… I don’t know, ease it.”

She looked down at the ring in her hand. It felt easier to say the words then, without meeting his gaze. “There are not enough words to express the depth of my love for you, and I fear there never will be. I have never been good at baring my heart, but if there was ever a moment to do so anyway it would be this one. I could say I love you more than anything I’ve ever loved in my life, and it would be true, but somehow it fails to express the sheer magnitude of my feelings for you.” She dared glance up to Astarion and was rewarded by an encouraging nod. “I vow from this day on to love you, to cherish you, and to see you. Even when it gets hard, even when it takes work to do so. I promise to do better, as you have done. I shall be your rock, your support, your comfort whenever you need me. Until the sun burns out, and through whatever lies beyond, I am yours. For as long as we exist, I vow to be your home, as you are mine.” She finally met his gaze and thanked herself for not fully looking up sooner. He looked so beautiful.

Astarion held his hand up, his fingers quivering visibly. He was smiling, but it was a bit frozen, almost forced in his anxious excitement. His eyes were too bright and wet, and she realized the trembling wasn’t just his hand but his whole body. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him in her arms and hide him away from everyone else, to keep him in the shelter of her embrace until his nervousness abated.

She slid the ring onto his finger.

Astarion cleared his throat. “Wrong finger,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. She stammered out a quick sorry, moving the ring from his middle to his ring finger.

The moment the ring slid home, Ulder spoke up. “It is with great honor that I pronounce you husband and wife. Lord Ancunín, you may kiss your beautiful bride.”

Instantly, Astarion wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her close. He pressed their bodies together, and slipped his hands down, linking them under her ass. He gripped her tightly, lifting her up. She wound her hands around his neck, the silken fabric of his collar pleasant against her skin.

His mouth slotted against hers, his plush lips pressing against her own. Leaning into the kiss, she heard him groan softly as his tongue lapped at her lips, seeking entrance. She opened for him and the approving hum that answered her sent shivers down her spine. The feeling of his teeth catching her lower lip, dragging over it as he pulled gently, elicited a quiet moan from her. The sound of whistling from somewhere in the crowd broke through to her and she finally pulled away, embarrassed. He set her down but didn’t let go of her.

Astarion simpered for the crowd, but his eyes were still damp and round. He offered her his arm and she gratefully accepted, leaning against him as they walked back down the aisle, finally husband and wife.

Astarion sauntered over to where Ban stood in front of the enchanted mirror, fighting with the clasps of her capelet, approaching from behind. “Does my wife need aid?” His hands ran over her shoulders to the clasps.

“Probably,” she huffed. “I had so much trouble having them put on. No one really knows how to do it, other than you.”

They were working on their first outfit change of the day, and she knew there would be more. Astarion had insisted on doing so for some variety in the portraits that would be painted today, but Ban also thought it a good idea to convey a sense of decadence and power. She was beginning to regret the pragmatism in that decision, now that she had to deal with the reality of multiple complex and tedious dress changes in a single evening.

He hummed in response, fingers slipping under the ornamentation to undo the buttons. “At the very least they managed to put it on straight. I was worried.”

“Gale did say as much.”

They both watched their reflections as he easily unbuttoned one side, then did the other, allowing the cape to fall to the floor between them. He leaned forwards, placing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Do you require more assistance, my love?” he whispered against the shell of her ear.

Shivering, she turned. “I wouldn’t say no, but I’m surprised you’re offering. The day isn’t quite over yet, Astarion.”

“Is it not? We’re wedded,” he held up his left hand, ring glinting in the candlelight, “and we have more than two hours before the reception starts. I presume we could steal a few minutes.” He closed in, crowding her, foreheads almost touching. “It wouldn’t take long, surely.”

Ban shook her head, reaching back to begin untying the laces of her dress. “We have portraits to pose for. We don’t have time.” She would have loved to; a month apart ensured her resistance was thin, but in that moment her thoughts were with the wedding arrangements. “As much as I want to-”

The words died in her throat as he moaned in her ear, rolling his hips against her thigh. “Certainly it should be up to me when our game ends, don’t you agree, darling? Ten minutes,” he whispered, “is all I would need.”

“Astarion-”

“Please.”

That word and the needy, aggressive tone in his voice undid the last threads of her restraint. She growled, taking a step back to remove the rest of her outfit. His eyes tracked her every move as she stripped the gown off, shimmying out of it gracelessly, shoving it down to her legs and stepping out of it.

“On that table,” Astarion pointed, and she backed up to sit on its edge. He prowled towards her, eyes dark and very much hungry, still fully clothed. His hands parted her legs roughly as he knelt. Their eyes met and she swallowed.

“Ten minutes, Astarion,” she warned weakly.

A dark bark of amusement answered her. “Trust me. I require less than that.”

His hand made its way up her thigh, fingers dancing playfully. He kissed her knee, eyes still locked onto hers. The other hand wrapped around the back of her knee, fixing that leg in place.

“Be a good girl,” he purred, “and be quiet. We don’t want anyone,” he traced her folds through her underwear, then flicked her clit through the fabric, “hearing us, do we?”

“Or walking in.” She took a quick, cursory look. She was pretty sure the door had been locked so they could change; the likelihood of anyone walking in was low.

He sank his teeth into the meat of her thigh, lapping lazily at the blood that formed, then smirked. His thumb ran circles around her clit, no doubt feeling the wetness beginning to soak through the cloth. “That too.”

Her eyes were glued to him as he began kissing his way up her thigh, fangs scraping her skin. He mouthed at her core, the thin cloth leaving too little and yet too much in between his tongue and her. He drew back a hand to undo the buttons of his suit, but his mouth never left her.

She rolled her hips, an insistent, pleading gesture, one hand wrapping around the side of the table as she bit on the other to stifle a moan. He hooked a finger in her underwear, tugging the fabric aside to bare her glistening folds. Red eyes flicked to her face, and he looked ravenous. “I wager you now agree with my assessment?”

“Probably less than ten minutes, yes,” she said breathlessly. “Just please. Lick me.”

He nodded, his face perfectly neutral, as if they were merely talking about the weather. “I knew you’d come around.” Keeping his eyes on her, he licked her, his tongue laid flat, from her entrance all the way up, making sure to give her a firm flick where she needed it most.

Ban groaned, spreading her legs further, needing more. Astarion obliged, slipping two fingers into her without meeting any resistance. “You’re deliciously wet, darling. How long have you wanted this? Wanted my tongue on you, wanted me - my fingers or my tongue or my cock, any part of me - inside you?”

She bucked, fucking herself on his fingers helplessly. “Too long,” she whispered. “Far too long.”

“Then I shall reward your patience, my love.” Without another word he dove right back between her legs; his hand spread her open, his tongue running circles around her clit before finally wrapping his lips around it and suckling.

She whined, the sensation momentarily overwhelming, but then he shifted into gentle, loving licks. Even that was intense, her hand instinctively lowering over his head, about to fist into his curls, until she remembered they needed to keep them pristine for the reception. She saw his eyes crinkle at her movement, but his mouth and fingers never stopped their work.

His fingers pumped into her faster, curling to hit her spot with every pass. His tongue lapped harder, the delicious friction making her hips move of their own accord, grinding against him. The fingers spreading her open, the naked, sheer desire in those eyes eating up her every reaction, the way his hips moved desperately in rhythm with his fingers, and the tent in his trousers were sights to behold, sights she had not seen in far too long, and it brought her climax barreling towards her.

“Astarion,” she whimpered, his name a quiet supplication upon the altar of his tongue.

He growled, low and deep in his throat, dragging a fang across her clit. The vibration and the slight sting of his fang sent chills racing along her entire body. She fought the urge to arch, to allow her eyes to roll back, wanting to see it. To see him. Their eyes met, and he cockily raised a brow as he gave her one last, hard flick, perfectly timed with a hard thrust of his fingers.

She bit her hand, fangs inadvertently breaking skin, a loud, muffled scream emanating from her as she came. Her hips jerked and Astarion wrapped a hand around her hip, pressing her closer as he lapped up everything she had to give. As she slowly recovered he kept licking, seemingly unwilling to stop. She could still see his erection straining against his trousers, his hips still slowly rocking.

“I… fuck,” she finally managed to say. She put a hand on his shoulder, pushing gently, feeling slightly oversensitive.

Astarion let go, a lazy, satisfied smirk on his face. He wiped his mouth on his cravat, then tugged it off. “Plenty of time to spare, just as I expected.”

Still trembling, Ban barely managed an annoyed glare. She let her eyes stray to the bulge between his legs. “And what about you?”

He looked down, as if noticing his clearly painful erection for the first time. “I think I can wait a little longer.” He adjusted his trousers and took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “I simply wanted to end your punishment.”

“As for myself,” he drew in close and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue, “I figure I have all night, and eternity after that.”

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brabblesblog · 2 days

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Moonlit, lazy nights at the Crimson Palace

I mean, what else do you do?

Art by the amazing Purple Danger Noodle

Full version on Twitter

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brabblesblog · 3 days

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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 12: I hold myself supremely blest -- blest beyond what language can express

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

A reunion amongst friends and a little surprise await the bride-to-be.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Art by @adactaaries

Ban was halfway finished with picking out cutlery, deciding between two soup spoons that looked rather similar when hands covered her eyes. Immediately she noticed the lack of Astarion’s scent, finding the aroma of parchment instead.

“Gale?”

The hands let go and he chuckled. “Congratulations are in order, I take it?”

“Thank you,” she turned to give him a quick hug. “But… aren’t you scheduled to be here in two days, together with the rest?”

He seemed to dither for a moment, and she raised her eyebrows. “I was supposed to, but Astarion requested that I come a few days ahead.”

“He- what for?” Ban watched as Gale opened his mouth to speak, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Astarion smirked at her. “I’ve asked for Gale’s assistance regarding… certain matters, which are to be a surprise.”

A surprise? Does he mean the plans to get my father to speak up? Ban assumed so. Perhaps he’d made progress and wanted to surprise her with it, although she couldn’t fathom what Gale could do to help.

“Alright.” She smiled at Gale again, then gestured in the direction of the guest rooms. “Shall we?”

As they walked together, Gale cleared his throat. “I assume things worked out for the best between you and Astarion?”

She inclined her head. “It did.”

“Not that I’m doubting you, but-”

Ban cut him off with a look. “You’ve read my letters. We… we’ve worked it out.”

“I know.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know it’s highly unlikely, and likely rude of me to say so, but I merely wanted to be sure you aren’t trapped, that he hasn’t found some way to compel you.”

“I appreciate the concern. I really do. I assume I’ll also be having this conversation with the rest of our companions.”

They reached the door and Ban opened it, revealing a huge, ornate bed and a desk. A large painting hung on the wall opposite the window.

Ban looked around, collecting her thoughts. “Thank you for checking. But Astarion and I have never been happier.”

“He does seem more… relaxed,” Gale admitted. He sat on the bed, tiredly toeing off his shoes. “He sent his request to come ahead of time and for once he didn’t sound…”

“Off-putting?” Ban offered, and he chuckled.

“He sounded like his old self.”

Ban snorted. “Yes.” She didn’t intend to elaborate to their friends. It was enough for them to know that they were together and happy; she didn’t think it necessary to share much with the others about their relationship.

“And how are you doing, Gale? Any news from Waterdeep? I know Astarion invited Vel’s former spawn through you.”

“Nothing new, other than Enxisys and Miaxisys now apparently rule the roost,” Gale replied. He scanned the room, eyes pausing for a moment on the painting, but he didn’t remark on it. He cleared his throat. “Erm. You two have done a fair amount of redecorating since we were last here.”

“Almost tore the place down and rebuilt it from the ground up. We expanded the gardens, as you saw on the way in, redid the entrance, the dungeons…”

“Dungeons.” Gale groaned, “What joy.”

“They’re shops now. We’re not keeping prisoners. Well. I say we - but I know what you assumed. Him.”

“Oh, I figured. You wouldn’t have stayed had that been the case.” He waved a hand. “I suppose he’s not what we thought he was. A pompous, arrogant arse, and a little… domineering, in his little tyrant-y way, but that’s not really anything new from the Astarion we knew. Just… more.”

She laughed at the thought. “You’re not wrong. But… Gale, a favor, please. Something I’d ask of you, and of everyone, once they’re here.”

“Go ahead,” he said, curious.

“Be nice. To him.” She paused, searching for the right words. “He… what happened at the rite, after it, the reunion... It all still hurts him.”

She could see Gale consider her request. “I’ve always been… nice to Astarion. At the very least, civil.”

“I know, but he did feel betrayed by all of it.” She patted his knee. “A little more kindness would do wonders. He needs it.”

Gale softened at her words. “I’ll try, and I’ll inform the others as well. For what it’s worth, I could always see how much he loves you. After the rite, it seemed… misguided, along with the rest of him.”

Ban sighed. “Misguided, misunderstood, mis…” she waved a hand, “Missed. It was much missed.”

She fell silent for a moment. “Thank you for coming here, and indulging him in… whatever he wants you to do.”

Gale walked through the palace, arms clasped behind his back. Astarion had summoned him to a spare room in one of the palace’s annexes. The third room from the landing, the chamberlain had said, and Gale managed to find it, the door left slightly ajar. He stepped in and saw the Ascendant, dressed sharply as usual, in an embroidered doublet.

“You asked for me?” Gale shut the door.

Astarion turned to face him. He looked… uncertain, and Gale had only ever seen that on his face when Ban had been kidnapped.

“Gale.” Astarion cleared his throat. “I appreciate you coming ahead on such short notice. This wouldn’t be possible without your participation.”

“Of course. A few days made little difference. I simply had to ask for a longer leave from the academy.”

“I see.”

To Gale’s surprise Astarion fidgeted. He watched him cross his arms across his chest. For a long moment the two men stared at each other in silence.

Gale was the first to break it. “About… Ban. We- I was just with her and-” He tried to hold Astarion’s gaze. It wasn’t hard, and if he had to guess, there was some measure of amusement there, however veiled. “I simply want to clarify that whatever feelings I had for her back then,” he waved a hand, “are… gone. Poof!”

He saw the Ascendant’s lip curl, but was surprised it was to smile rather than sneer. Astarion pursed his lips momentarily, then huffed a small chuckle, his voice becoming haughty - and yet…companionable. “You are free to feel however you wish to feel about Ban. It is completely understandable to find yourself smitten; I myself am obviously not immune to her charms.”

Gale spluttered. “Yes, I mean, she is wonderful and all that, of course! However I’m trying to say-”

“I am aware,” Astarion interjected. His voice was chilly, but he was still smiling, and now his eyes were crinkled. The mirth in them was impossible to miss. “And I am saying it’s fine.”

“Oh.” Gale shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Alright.”

The smile on Astarion’s face was replaced by a pensive expression, and he turned away from Gale to face their little project. Gale heard him exhale.

“Between the two of us, I’d say I’m the one who needs to clear the air,” Astarion began. “I’ve yet to express my gratitude for taking Ban in when she needed it most. When she needed someone to give her aid, you were there, despite the potential risks to yourself.”

Gale swallowed. “I did what needed to be done. I wanted to do right by my friend. Whether I felt anything romantic for her or not was irrelevant.”

“I appreciate that,” Astarion turned, meeting Gale’s gaze. His eyes, to Gale’s surprise, were wide and earnest, the hooded, guarded expression absent. Gale hadn’t seen Astarion look so guileless since… well, possibly ever.

“While it… stung that none of you cared to remain friends with me after the rite, or to communicate with me before providing her assistance in leaving,” he began, “I comprehend your reasons. After all, I was with her every single day, and even she didn’t do that.”

Gale considered explaining himself, but decided to wait. Astarion took a deep breath and pushed on.

“I have to thank you, however, for aiding her - all of you, were I to be completely frank. Her departure was…” his eyes flicked away, “much needed. It was what she needed, and it was what I needed to set myself on the right path.”

Gale nodded, surprised and pleased by Astarion’s - by his friend’s candor. “Er. You’re… welcome, I suppose. Well, it all ended up for the better, so.”

He shifted his attention to the hulking object by Astarion, clapping his hands together and smiling eagerly.

“So, my friend. Shall we begin?”

Ban watched the foyer doors open and was immediately accosted by big, burly arms; she gasped out a weak “Karlach!”

“I’m here!” Karlach exclaimed, squeezing Ban tightly. “Withers said he’d be coming to the wedding itself, but-” she gestured from herself and Wyll, “-we’re his gift!”

“Delightfully considerate of him,” Astarion mused dryly from where he stood behind Ban. Karlach let go of her.

“Hey, Astarion,” she waved at him awkwardly.

He lifted his eyes from his fingertips, which he had been very pointedly studying. “Hello, Karlach.”

She beckoned Wyll over, and he pressed a horned skull onto Ban’s palms; it smelled sulphuric, and Astarion’s nose burned.

“Our wedding present,” Wyll said, looking at both of them. “It isn’t much, but-”

His words were silenced by Ban’s tight hug. As she released him he stepped towards Astarion, offering a hand.

“Congratulations.”

Astarion seemed to freeze for a moment, staring at Wyll’s proffered hand before clasping it for a firm shake.

“Thank you, Wyll. I… I appreciate it.” There was a stiffness in how he held himself, even now he was awkward in the face of kindness from anyone but her. Ban found it rather endearing and amusing.

The next face Ban saw was Halsin’s; evidently everyone had traveled together. He wrapped his arms around her, and the scent of earth filled her nose. After a long moment he set her down and turned to hug Astarion as well. To her surprise, he accepted and returned the gesture without complaint. Whatever had transpired in their conversation in Rivington had clearly established a warmer relationship between the two.

Then Lae’zel, who gave Ban a quick once-over. “I came to make sure you were healthy. And you,” she said, turning to Astarion, “are lucky they said she would likely want you alive last time. Chk.”

He bit his lip, then ground out a terse reply. “Formidable as you are, I wouldn’t be so certain I was the lucky one that day, Lae’zel.”

Lae’zel opened her mouth, but Shadowheart interjected before it could escalate. “Astarion! I’m so happy for you both.” Like Halsin, she hugged Astarion. Ban sagged in relief when he allowed it, looking only mildly baffled by the gesture. Ban mumbled a quick thank you when it was her turn for a hug. She’d told Shadowheart everything when they’d met to discuss the Sharran cloisters, and she was glad to see that had been enough for Shadowheart to warm up to Astarion.

Astarion blinked, seemingly bewildered after his second hug of the day. He recovered quickly, clearing his throat. “Thank you, Shadowheart.”

He turned, eyes roaming over everyone. “I shall have our chamberlain lead you all to your rooms. Dinner will be at sunset.”

Ban smiled a little, watching his shoulders drop as the chamberlain led their former companions deeper into the palace.

“You handled that well.”

“Well enough,” he grumbled. “They still loathe me.”

She stepped closer, cupping his cheek. “They do not. And if some of them do, love, we’ll change their minds by the time the night is over. And then tomorrow…” she pecked his lips, “Tomorrow that will be the least of your concerns.”

He sighed. “I know. I merely-” he shook his head ruefully. “Best not bring it up, I suppose. What’s done is done.”

“You could clear the air. We have all of tonight to do that,” She scanned his face. “Is there more troubling you?”

“Not troubling me, dear.” The corner of his lip tugged up into a smile, arms wrapping around her for a quick hug. “On the contrary; there’s something I can’t wait to show you.”

“Oh?” She leaned into his touch, a small moment just for themselves on this busy night. “Perhaps something between your legs?” She crooned, batting her eyelashes at him coyly.

“Your wedding gift,” he purred into her ear, eliciting a chuckle from her.

“If it’s some expensive jewelry again, or more art… Gods. We’ll run out of walls to hang them.”

He smirked. “It is expensive, and rare. But you’ll have to wait until the end of the night to see it.”

They entered the dining room to see everyone seated and waiting; Ban slipped into her usual seat to the right of Astarion. Wyll broke the silence that had fallen when they walked in.

“We’re all happy for you two,” he began, his hand reaching for the stem of his goblet. “For… working it out. Shadowheart and Gale kept us abreast of the… developments.”

Astarion, who’d been pouring himself some blood from their shared bottle, set it down with a rather loud clink.

“Working it out,” he spat out. “Of course we did, no thanks to you lot.” He knew she’d had to leave, knew it had needed to happen, but that didn’t lessen the hurt.

Karlach leaned forward. “We did what was best for Ban. And you were-”

“I know what I was,” Astarion hissed. “I merely wish someone… had approached me. Then again, why did I even expect anything of the sort? You all distanced yourselves after the ritual, avoided me as if I was some… leper, and not one of you reached out to me when Ban…” He felt Ban’s hand cover his own and he squeezed.

“I understand why you did what you did,” he pushed on. “I simply wanted you to know that it hurt me - all of it.” Clenching his jaw, he looked down at their entwined hands.

He took a deep breath. “But all is forgiven. We are here to celebrate, not throw old grievances around.”

Silence met him for several long moments, broken only by Gale reaching over to clap a hand on his shoulder. “We understand, Astarion. I meant what I said before. We’re still your friends.”

Their companions voiced their agreement and several quiet apologies were offered.

“I… Thank you,” Astarion mumbled under his breath, reaching for his goblet.

With that out of the way, conversation began in earnest. Astarion watched it all, listening to nothing in particular, unsure of how they actually felt about him. Will they always look at me and wonder if someday they’ll be called upon to rescue her from me once more? Will I ever be just Astarion to them again?

As the food was served and he prepared to eat, he caught his name.

“-starion?”

Shadowheart. He looked to her, curious.

“Karlach was asking if you’d be able to take on a cambion now,” she explained.

“Cambion, I’m not certain. An incubus, most assuredly so.” He smirked, the pleasant memory flashing through his mind.

Lae’zel fixed him with a baleful glare from the other end of the table. “If by that you mean to say you killed Haarlep… I am almost impressed.”

“I did indeed,” he preened, raising his glass to her. “As previously implied, I could probably take you on.”

She laughed, a challenge in her eyes. “Chk. I would like to see you try.”

Ban cleared her throat. “Before you challenge Lae’zel, Astarion, you should try sparring with me.”

“Only if you can stay in mist form for longer than a minute,” Astarion quipped; pleased to hear the laughter from the rest.

“The day I do is the day you’ll regret saying that.”

Karlach snickered. “Look at you two! At us! Just like the good old days, eh?”

Astarion glanced at her, a wistful look in his eyes. “With much better fare, but I agree.”

“The camp food left much to be desired,” Halsin agreed. He was seated between Lae’zel and Shadowheart, his more homely clothes a contrast to his surroundings.

“Thank you!” Astarion exclaimed emphatically, to loud snickering.

“You don’t even eat!” Gale snapped, indignant.

Astarion wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t eat, but I could smell.”

“I eat,” Karlach intoned, “and it sucked.”

“Apples, fish heads…” Shadowheart added, before sipping a spoonful of soup.

Gale spluttered. “I had no choice! That was all we had!”

“You were with Ban and Astarion most days, Gale. You could have taken the time to find more palatable fare,” Wyll suggested, deadpan.

Ban scanned them all, a small smile flitting over her features. “Astarion said my breath after I ate your stews was rancid.”

“Rancid!” Gale raised his index finger. “I’ll have you know my mother taught me how to cook!”

Laughter filled the room. The warm candlelight threw them all into reddish hues, and if Astarion squinted, it was almost as if they were back by the campfire. He looked to his beloved, saw her laughing, and it was as if no time had passed. His heart swelled.

She shot him a smile, the one that was just for him, reaching over to tangle her fingers in his, their hands set on the table for all to see.

She leaned in to ask quietly, “Feeling better?”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek before replying.

Astarion’s eyes locked onto hers and he directed his answer to her mind. I do not require their approval, or their friendship, but… I will admit that having it again is nice. He reached for another forkful of his dinner.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. You and Gale had a conversation about it, and I had discussed things with Shadowheart and Gale, as well. Halsin-

Halsin and I made amends some time ago. He fixed her with a pointed gaze, sending a small sliver of his memory-

Coming apart on her lap, Halsin’s gift spreading him open, feeling it hit his spot with every thrust. The look on her face as she fucked him, praised him, loved him, his desire and joy comingling in an overwhelmingly intense rush as he came.

She hid her answering grin from their guests, resting her head on her hand and tilting her head his way; her legs crossed. I assumed as much, seeing as he seemingly gifted that to you with no preamble.

Astarion shrugged. It was a wonderful present. I do find myself curious about how he’ll attempt to top that for his wedding gift. He let his eyes rake over her. Hopefully his new present will have me writhing with just as much pleasure as the previous one did - perhaps even more, seeing as you’ve improved your… skillset.

Ban snorted, rolling her eyes. She pointedly stared between his legs, licking her lips slowly. I saw him carry something in when he arrived. Something large and fragile, by the looks of the container. She showed Astarion what she had seen: a rather sizable box, gingerly set on the floor when Halsin greeted them and picked up with great care and cradled afterwards.

If it’s fragile, then it’s quite unlikely to be what I was looking forward to.

He saw Ban splutter mid-sip, failing to keep her laughter hidden. You want more? We already have a sizable collection - every size and shape - and we barely even use them!

I prefer having it once in a while, like a fine vintage - imbibe too much and you lose appreciation for its finer notes. Besides, most of the time I’d much rather be buried inside you.

She choked on her wine at that, a loud sound that would have captured everyone’s attention had they not been engaged in their own conversation. He watched her squirm with deep satisfaction.

You tease!

Astarion hardly recognized the carefree, throaty laugh that escaped him, but he didn’t attempt to stem it. He lifted her hand, stroking her fingers with his own. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her wrist, exhaling through his mouth to let the warm rush of air tickle her flesh. She shivered and her eyes closed as she bit her lip lightly. He chuckled and her eyes snapped open in a playful glare; it merely served to amuse him more. He was certain breaking their fast would be memorable.

There was a small ripple of nervous energy amongst their guests, and he tilted his head, shifting his attention to them.

“-don’t even know if they’d realistically survive doing that.” Gale, engaged in conversation with Karlach, drank deeply from his goblet.

Karlach’s eyes snapped towards Astarion, realizing he was listening to their conversation. She elbowed Gale.

“What? I mean, healing abilities aside, which I’ve personally witnessed…” Gale trailed off to see Astarion’s gaze on him.

The painting in Gale's room. One of their more unusual commissions, a piece depicting Ban feeding from a wound in his chest. He crossed his arms, amused.

Ban had followed her husband’s eyes. “You two taking bets?”

Karlach pointed her fork at Gale. “He said Astarion would die if you two actually did it. And I’m not betting against the wizard.”

Astarion chimed in. “You have personally witnessed me stabbed in the heart, Gale. What gives you the impression I wouldn’t survive a shallower incision?”

“I merely thought… with the size of the wound depicted on it…”

“Never heard of artistic license?” Karlach answered without missing a beat.

Gale’s glare was withering. “I know what artistic license is, Karlach. I was merely wondering if they actually did it to the extent depicted, if at all.”

“I’m not confirming nor denying anything.” Ban’s lips curled in a smile as she said this.

I’m almost tempted to tell him we did, he told her. Her eyes flicked to him.

I don’t need any rumors of me eating your heart-

Astarion shrugged. Suit yourself. I wouldn’t mind everyone thinking us debauched, senseless fools, driven mad with lust for each other. He placed a hand high on her thigh and squeezed. As if that were not true.

“You’re driving me mad,” Ban muttered under her breath, her legs visibly squeezing together.

He drank from his goblet to hide his smirk, caressing her now-tensed thigh in slow, languid strokes. One more day, Ban. I hope you’ll survive it.

For the rest of the evening, the dining room was filled with the sounds of eating, of clanking dishes, of drinks being poured and stories being told. Throughout it all, the sound of laughter reigned supreme.

After everyone else had retired for the night, Astarion led her blindfolded through the palace, hands on her shoulders. “We shall take a left, and a right in twenty paces.”

Ban groaned as her toe stubbed a nearby armchair. “Gods, must it really be this way?”

He’d led her up one of the palace’s staircases, through corridors they rarely passed through, and she kept bumping into things.

“Must? Of course not. However I’ve spent too much time and energy preparing this to merely present it without at least some fanfare. Besides - how many times do I need to decline answering that question?”

“Where are you taking me, then?”

“Ask better questions and I might consider indulging you.”

“If by indulging you mean giving yet another non-answer, no.” She laughed. “You absolute prat, I-”

Her words were swallowed by his mouth seizing hers, his tongue diving between her lips before she could react. She felt his hands slide their way to her ass, squeezing firmly enough to elicit a gasp. He pulled her hips forward, grinding himself against her, and she ached at the feel of his cock, hard and hot, pressing exactly where she wanted him. It was delicious - electric - but before she could lift her hands to tug him closer, he’d already pulled away. She could hear him panting and knew she wasn’t the only one whose self-control hung by a thread, much as he liked to pretend otherwise.

“A little more patience, my love, and you’ll-”

“We’ll,” Ban corrected, smirking.

There was a rustle of cloth as Astarion adjusted himself, then cleared his throat, the snort barely hidden. “Fine. We’ll both be rewarded for our restraint.”

“Not fair,” she whined. “You get to touch me, just like that, get to use your words, and I’m just immediately begging to have you.”

“Let me remind you: this was your punishment.” He returned his hands to her shoulders and continued leading her. “And I have not used the full force of my voice on you in quite some time.”

She noticed an odd somberness in the tone of that last statement. “What do you mean?”

“Turn right here.” He turned her, his hands gentle. He took a breath through his nose. “You seem to be longing for the old days - for those flowery, sultry words - when I could simply… speak, and you’d melt.”

She suspected them to be in the third landing of this particular wing, guessing they were close to the room she theorized he was taking her to. The sudden gust of cold air told her they’d passed by one of the arched windows. “I did notice that you’d stopped, but I didn’t want to… much as I missed it, I thought you might have seen it as performing.”

He stilled, and she stopped. She sensed him move in front of her, then felt his hands slide around her waist and pull her into an embrace.

“Is that so?” he murmured against her ear. “I had assumed you did not want reminders of before, and so I refrained. I recall you admonishing me, telling me to relax. To be clear - I do not mind a certain level of performance; not anymore, and especially not with you. Seduction is by nature, on some level, a performance. But with you it is not a cold, callous thing. Heightening your pleasure could never be cold to me.”

She traced soothing circles on his back, fingers gliding along the muscles she knew so well.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I intended, at all. You stopped doing it after the rite, and well… you never really slipped back into doing it regularly. So whenever you did do it I assumed it was… contrived, that it wasn’t something I should be encouraging or requesting.”

“When I had nothing else to offer you, words were the one thing I could.” She felt him relax into her touch, his chin settling on top of her head.

“When I finally had everything to give, words felt… unnecessary. I did not realize until too late that words were what you missed the most - not merely the sensual persuasion, but those that spoke of my true feelings. With the quagmire our relationship had become,” he huffed, “it felt unwise to bring such talk back into our bedroom. I feared you mourning the past, and you voiced no complaint; that felt like confirmation that I was on the right path.”

She considered his words and found them accurate. She nodded, face huddled against the expanse of bare chest his open shirt exposed.

“I suppose we misunderstood each other. Again.”

“One of a multitude of such instances, yes,” he conceded. “However, like everything else, it can be discussed. So, my love. Do you wish me to…” he leaned in, lips a hairsbreadth from the shell of her ear, his voice lowering to an erotic purr, “whisper sweet words to you, soft words of devotion…” he breathed, a rough, ragged sound, the heat of it sending a wave of fire from her ear to her groin, “pant and gasp and tell you every one of the debauched ways I wish to have you…” his tongue flicked out and ran up the edge of her ear, “moan and whimper your name,” his fingers traced down her neck and across her collarbone, “sigh out every filthy thought that goes through my mind every time I see you, so that you can hear every. single. day. that every inch of my body yearns for you,” he caught her earlobe between his teeth for the briefest moment, “that every moment I’m not buried inside you, filling you with my seed, is a glorious agony only you can assuage…”

She shuddered, barely preventing her knees from buckling; Astarion chuckled, low and deep.

“I can make your name a prayer, sing your praises. Coax you to do anything and everything for me, dearest Ban.” Her name was almost obscene on his lips, velvety voice crooning directly into her ear. She was wet, her legs squeezing together.

He chuckled lightly, his breath hitching on a quiet inhale that cut off in a desperate groan when he caught the scent of her arousal. To her surprise, his mouth devoured hers again. Her arms lifted to wind around his waist, but he captured them, wrapping his strong hands around her wrists.

“Not today, my love,” he whispered, “as much as I want it too.” He pressed his hips against hers, one long, slow, grind, allowing her to feel the truth of his words.

“Fuck,” she managed to groan, pulling away. “Yes. I want that.”

He kissed her cheek. “Tomorrow, I promise. You will be lavished with all the words I’ve longed to give you again. In fact, I trust you will make some small attempt to do the same,” he teased, “although it may be decades, perhaps centuries, before you attain my level of skill.” Ban rolled her eyes, and although he couldn’t see it through the blindfold, he sensed it.

“I’ll come up with something. You’ll see.”

He loosed a quiet snort. After a moment, he resumed leading her down the corridor, and into a room. He closed the door behind them, then led her backwards until the backs of her legs hit what felt like a chair.

“Sit.”

She did as asked, and he reached down to untie her blindfold. “I’m not certain how to say this, other than that I wanted to give you something for our wedding. You’ve planned it to perfection, and this is my way of saying thank you.”

He drew away, and she opened her eyes.

She saw… herself. Slightly more ashen than she was used to, staring at herself askance. It took several long moments to realize what she was looking at. An ornate, gold-gilt rectangular mirror with an arched top. A mirror. She gasped in wonder, eyes tracing over Astarion, who was naturally also reflected in it, grinning from ear to ear.

It took slightly longer to realize what she was seated on. Mostly black, not quite the same style as his, but a throne all the same. She took a moment to find the words, but all that came out was a broken “Astarion…”

He crossed his arms, smiling still. “Meiros had made such a brilliant piece, and I thought its beauty would be wasted if it would never be able to reflect your countenance. I corresponded with Gale, who corresponded with Elminster, and…” he shrugged. “Here it is. In time for you to see yourself properly on our wedding day.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “And th-this?” She ran her hands over the armrests, feeling the intricate carvings.

“Another gift. The initial one, in fact, before I purchased the mirror. You sorely needed one.”

Ban kept her eyes on herself, drinking in everything. “Thank you. For both. I… I love them. But I’d still want to sit on your lap.”

Astarion laughed, a loud, mirthful sound. “I won’t deny you that. Still, you have to admit this sends a much-needed message to the guests at our events.” He approached her and playfully sat on her lap, angling his face towards hers. “You’re to be respected, to be seen as holding the same stature as I. Equals.”

He turned to straddle her, pressing himself close, arms around her neck. “Wouldn’t you say that was a good idea?” He looked back at the mirror, seeing them both. I should have her take me in front of this sometime, he thought. The visuals would no doubt be magnificent…

She nodded, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. She could feel the soft press of his cock against her belly; she desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, her hand lifted before she could think.

“Bad girl,” he said, returning his gaze to her. He took her hand and wrapped it around his waist instead. His eyes, however, were tender. “One more day. I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

He leaned forwards, kissing her softly, unable to keep his hips still. He ground against her, her hand obediently remained where he’d placed it.

Ban moaned, longing to deepen the kiss. She sucked on his lower lip, but he pulled away as soon as she began to nibble.

He stood up, thumb running over his swollen lip absently. They both looked at the tent in his trousers, he with chagrin and she with naked hunger. He quietly adjusted himself.

“Patently clear I’m not the only one suffering,” she said.

A small, amused bark answered her. “You have no idea.”

Bonus: Here’s the art from Gale’s room, commissioned from @kringle-c

Taglist: @tavamarie @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decadentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @midnight-musings-of-nyx @toni-winchester @icybluepenguin @beepersteeper @hereliesblackdragon @generalstephkenobi

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brabblesblog · 4 days

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WIP Game 📝

Rules: make a new post and share 1-2 sentences from your most recent unposted WIP(s) with zero context – Let your followers guess!

Tagged by @nyx-knox :3 thank you! <3

“Fine. Do you have the rings, at least?” Gale patted his pocket. “Of course.” “Be a dear and don’t lose them.”

Heh. Tagging @lipstickghoulie @astarioffsimpmain @spite-made-me @micropoe10

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brabblesblog · 5 days

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Ah, thank you so, so much.

It's been a hard few weeks for me, and this definitely helps with the flagging motivation to write (or do anything, really).

Thank you <3

omg

this fic by brabbles is so incredible

i'm not into ascended astarion, but oh my god this fic is an exception

it was so... beautiful??? so well written and the little pieces of fanart in some of the chapters was incredible, too.

i strongly suggest that all of you who are a simp for astarion read this. it's possibly the best fic of his that i've read.

@brabblesblog

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brabblesblog · 5 days

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Despite having super vampire powers, Astarion hiding in a bush while he stalks his ex is funny to me ok

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brabblesblog · 6 days

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10 songs, 10 mutuals

Thanks @bhaalbabebardlock for the tag! Here's my 10, courtesy of Spotify's daylist

That Part by Lauren Spencer Smith

The Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift

Lose You To Love Me by Selena Gomez

happier by Olivia Rodrigo

In The Stars by Benson Boone

Dandelions by Ruth B

Forever by Lewis Capaldi

I miss you, I'm sorry by Gracie Abrams

Ghost of You by 5 Seconds of Summer

Love in the Dark by Adele

Tagging @micropoe10 @nyx-knox @pursuitseternal @marimosalad @lipstickghoulie @starryjuicebox @kaeoticneutral @phaseeternal @mouldering-casket @astarioffsimpmain

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brabblesblog · 7 days

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Omg happy birthday! <3

It's my birthday today, so the best present is a repost of my works 💜 Thank you so much for your love and support ✨️

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brabblesblog · 8 days