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commander-rahrah · 6 months

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Talking to the Moon: Part II

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6900 (haha.. whoops again) Warnings: suggestive, swearing, PTSD, trauma, past/implied abuse, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, death, blood drinking, combat

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here

Summary: Set in Act II (pre-Moonrise Towers), Astarion and Tav/Reader wake up in the Last Light Inn after he makes amends. Astarion begins to realize what he is feeling for Tav/Reader is different then anything he has every felt before, and it is a continuous internal battle for him in more ways than one.

Notes: This is still a GN!Reader/Tav in second perspective with no names or y/n. The backstory established in chapter 1 still continues — Reader/Tav is Selûne blessed; noble with only a few specific appearance descriptors used (silver hair/star like freckles). This update is a combination of like 3 little daily headcannon dreams I had while playing the game the first time, and I felt like they all flowed so well together to create what would be a series of moments for Astarion to realize he was indeed falling for Tav before his confession scene that happens after Moonrise towers!

I hope to write more for this specific pairing, as I want to add even more to the confession scene from Astarion. And also the resolution for Reader and Shadowheart. I know how it all ends in my head, but I am loving writing it out and sharing with you all! ♡♡♡

P.S.: I keep slipping little Shadowheart x Karlach moments in... because I love the idea of them being together. But you can take it however you want to LOL.

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Astarion blinked awake, slowly, peacefully. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. He usually bolted awake on instinct after finishing his trance.

But this morning he was greeted by a comfortable silence. Stretching his neck, he smiled as he took in your still sleeping form — hair tousled with sleep. One hand clutching your pillow while the other rested near his own, outstretched. Had you held his hand as you were sleeping? He couldn’t recall once he had fallen into his trance.

As if sensing him looking at you, your eyes fluttered open before your lips curved softly at the sight of him.

It made his half-dead heart flutter.

“You talk in your sleep.” You mumbled with a voice still hoarse and drowsy.

“I do? What did I say?” A knot formed in his stomach as he thought of the possibilities — the damning things he could have said.

“It was mostly muttering. You weren’t very coherent… but you sounded afraid. So I…” You flexed your fingers next to his own hand before trailing off.

You had reached out to comfort him whilst he slept. He swallowed as he looked at both of your hands still stretched out to the middle. Before he pulled it back, intertwining it with his other one laying on chest. “Apologies. I’ve never had a bed partner before… You must have slept terribly.”

“No, not at all. I haven’t sleep this well in months actually.” You said as you stretched your arms over your head, starting to sit up on the soft mattress.

Astarion agreed silently in his head. Not that he would admit it so freely out loud.

The pair of you sat in silence for a moment, your bodies still slightly laid across the mattress as you tried to will yourselves to start the day. Occasionally, he could feel you glance over to him. After mustering up some courage, he looked over at you with his red eyes round and vulnerable.

You studied the features of his face for a moment, before your eyebrows crinkled. “You must be starving. You haven’t fed.”

“No… but I’ll be fine. I’m sure some evil cultist will pull a sword on us and I will get to shred their throat.” He let out his nervous laugh, but the burning in his throat was uncomfortable.

“Astarion. You need but ask—“

“I can’t — I couldn’t.” Not after how he had acted last night. The shame that had ripped through him still lingered, his skin turning hot again as he remembered.

Then you were closing the empty space between, shuffling on your knees across the mattress as you got closer to him. “You need it to survive, you can’t help it that you’re—“

“A monster?” His lips curled, before he flashed his face away from you.

Your voice was quiet, laced with an ache he couldn’t understand. “I don’t think you’re a monster. Have I made you feel like one?”

He thought of your face that fateful night when you learned what he truly was. Surprise had flickered across your face, but never fear or hatred. You had quickly turned the tables as you were then calming him down. As if you hadn’t just woken up to him looming over you, fangs bared like a wild animal.

You hadn’t treated him any differently at all. Perhaps you asked a few curious questions and graced him with some teasing with that sharp tongue of yours. But you had believed him and accepted him as he was. Trusted him.

He wanted to hate you for it. For not seeing him as a wild, dangerous creature. For not just treating him like every other person did when they realized what he truly was.

It would be easier — to hate you.

But he couldn’t. He would never.

“No. You haven’t.”

“Astarion,” You grabbed onto his wrist delicately, your touch featherlight and a bit hesitant. “Feed.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“I do.” You laid back out onto the bed, stretching out your neck for him. He swallowed, already eyeing your pulse point that was beckoning him closer.

His throat bobbed up and down as he pushed his blankets aside and eliminated the lingering space left between you. His fingertips brushed over the puncture wounds that lingered on your neck now — he had committed to always feeding from the same spot, so to avoid further marking your perfect form. His fingers trailed up your jawline, your cheekbones and into your hairline. “You’re too good to me,” He murmured into your skin, pressing a soft kiss on your neck. Surprised by his own intimacy, he pulled back to look you in the eye. “Are you ready?”

You nodded, fisting the sheet you laid on in preparation.

Astarion moved his body half over yours and sunk his teeth in, piercing through the soft flesh until your hot blood rushed into his mouth. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him as the sweet taste flooded all of his senses.

But he had become better at it — not as frantic as his first time. Not as desperate. One of his hands lingered in your hair, the other wrapping around your waist carefully as he pulled himself closer into you. The thin fabric of your nightclothes let him feel your warm, soft skin beneath.

The thundering of your heart was echoing in his ears and down into his own chest. But your shallow breaths were acting as a timer. He needed to stay aware of you, to not push you or your body too far. He became increasingly aware of your hands tightening in the sheets and toes curling as you let out a whimper. Both pain and pleasure intermixed.

He realized that so often while he had fed from you, the lines got blurred. Lately, you both had been buried deep in each other whilst he was sucking and lapping at your neck — bringing you both into bliss for very different reasons. And though those moments with you did bring him into euphoria, something no one else’s touch or body had done in a century, it still brought that familiar tremble. A single thought that spoiled the high and made him wish he could peel off his skin.

He didn’t want to cross that line today, not if he didn’t have to.

With a gasp, he pulled away from your neck. He lingered close to it for a moment, breathing in your scent once more before licking at the punctures to stop any lingering blood from pooling out. Sitting back up, his tongue went over his lips and teeth cleaning up the red stains. “Are you alright?”

Your voice was a gentle whisper, purposefully calm to reassure him. “Yes. Are you?”

“Feeling better already.” He wiped at the corners of his mouth carefully, before asking, “Do you need — would you like me to make you feel better?”

“It’s nothing that my amulet and a strong cup of tea won’t fix.” You gripped the edge of the bed as you sat up, fingers already clasping at the golden amulet glittering off of your neck — it glowed slightly at your touch. The colour slowly returned to your cheeks, and the open puncture marks closed — leaving behind the purple-red bruises from his mouth and small scars from his fangs.

“Right. But I got mine… do you want yours too?” His pale fingers swirled nervously on his own knee.

“Astarion, this isn’t transactional.” You said with a shake of your head.

No, that couldn’t be. Everything had a cost, everything was an exchange. He knew that, he lived by that.

“What?” A bewildering look crossed his face, his head cocked to the side. He was sure he hadn’t heard you right.

But you said firmly, “I don’t expect anything in return. Not ever.”

“Then why in the heavens do you let me do this!?” He asked exasperatedly, his voice a little louder than he intended.

You took a large breath before staring back into his eyes, your stare and voice unwavering. “Because I care about you. And you told me heartbreaking stories of how you spent years eating rats and bugs. Being tortured and cut into. I may not ever truly know what you went through Astarion… but I understand. So every moment that I spend with you, I want to show you the opposite.”

“Someone will take advantage of that you know. Take advantage of you —that goodness you insist on.” Your blood in his stomach turned sour, as he knew that someone was him.

“I know. They have and they will. But I will not change my mind on this. And despite what you think or expect, I will not treat you like a monster or a thing. You are a person, albeit a complicated one, but aren’t we all.”

He blinked at your sudden outburst, mouth open slightly as his mind scrambled for some witty response, some quick line. But he failed too as you continued your admission.

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you. Not just the drawings I gave to you when you told me you wished to see your reflection…,” Those charcoal drawings of his face were carefully tucked into the pages of a leather book in his pack. His most prized possession. “One day, when you are ready to hear it I will tell you.”

Astarion remained silent. He was gobsmacked, his eyes wide. He felt like he was still processing, his mind sputtering and his heart thundering from your confessions. You cared for him? You understood him? And there was more to hear? Whenever he was ready… whatever that meant.

The only attachment he had planned for was your bodies intertwining in a false passion. Not that it had been very fake as of late… But everything else.

Astarion was suddenly very out of his element.

“Have a left you speechless, my dear? Maybe I should make unprompted speeches more often.” You smirked, though your face flushed a brilliant shade. He had been silent for too long, so you had tried to make things light and airy.

He slipped back into his usual cadence as his face broke into a grin, a dark chuckle escaping him. “So vicious, darling. Maybe I’m rubbing off on you.”

He prayed he wasn’t.

• • •

It was a hard few days in the Shadowlands, searching for a way to break the curse and edging ever closer to Moonrise Towers.

It was brutal here, punishing. Each turn more dangerous than the next.

There were no animals for him to feed on, so Astarion sheepishly continued to accept your offers. And there was no exchange as you promised, except quiet gratitude from him and an even more quiet understanding from you.

It was bewildering and mystifying. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Why you would choose to do that for him.

He could understand you jumping to the aid and rescue of the Tiefling children, helpless animals, the young couples desperately in love. They were good, they were pure.

But he was none of those things. He was wretched and broken. He craved violence and vengeance. His touch was a curse for you both. And he had used you, manipulated you. And maybe you knew it.

Yet you were still there.

And the cursed lands kept reminding him of that.

Everywhere they looked he seemed to find pairs. Engraved wedding rings enchanted to protect the other. Skeleton couples laid next to each other in their final moments. Like the pair that died on the rooftop, their boney fingers still intertwined. The handwritten poems cataloging the love they held for each other sat next to them, like they had whispered it to each other before their last breaths.

You had found the poems first, a soft look on your face as you read it to the group — your tender voice breaking as you neared the end of the last poem, their final declaration of love even in death. Astarion had to look away as you finished it, his half-dead heart thumping in his chest as he heard you speak the proclamation. He wouldn't allow his mind to even start to imagine you saying such things to him.

Lae’zel’s huffs broke the moment, demanding they get a move on and head back to camp already. The group blinked back to reality, before turning on their heels to go.

You walked ahead of him as the group began to backtrack to camp, tucking the book of poems into your pack with a gentle touch.

Astarion’s thoughts had been consumed by you for sometime now. For longer then he had realized. Perhaps from the moment he met you. He sometimes wondered what about you had kept him so captivated. Why he picked you to feed on, or to be the unsuspecting member of his plan.

He could have picked Wyll — he was noble and honorable, prone to jump into the thick of things to save an innocent or a friend. Loyal to a fault. And he was quite handsome too. Like the princes he dreamed to marry when he was a boy.

But no, it was you he was drawn to. His little moon.

He had realized that he ached for something he had never known, and had never before believed truly existed — that it was only invented to be seen in plays or read in prose and poetry. But now he longed for it with you.

When he was cursed to this life of a bloodsucking monster, of a vampire, he quickly realized that he would always feel hungry. That he could have his fill of blood and still be starving. He could drain this merry party dry and still feel that prick in his throat and pang in his belly.

What he didn’t realize was that the curse Cazador bestowed to him was so much more. Not just an endless bloodlust, not just waking nightmares and endless torment. But that he could long and ache for companionship, attachment, love. But that he would never take it for himself. That he would always be both starving and empty.

Because he knew he didn’t deserve it. Not after the things he’d done, in this life and his old one. Not after what he had become. He didn’t deserve you — someone so good that a literal goddess had blessed you with their power. Someone whose voice turned gentle as their fingers trailed lines of poetry. Someone who would offer themselves up to a monster, just to make them feel whole again.

You deserved someone bright and unbroken. Who could give and receive touch as freely as breathing air. Who knew that true companionship wasn't some fantasy invented for the arts, that love was more then sex and flattery. Who could one day also lay beside you, willing to accept what fate becomes them and turn to bone. Not a half-dead creature like him.

He knew he would cease his foolish plan. He couldn’t use you as bait nor a shield, not anymore. You deserved better than that. What that meant for him… he wasn’t sure.

Perhaps he should confess to his plan too. As a final way to make you understand what a manipulative bastard he truly was. To push you away. It would hurt less than to confess what his heart wished for, but his mind knew he could never have.

The path the group was walking along was overgrown with thorns and vines. A specific darkness plagued the route, and it was barely dulled from the magical glow of the party’s several spells and enchantments. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, his red eyes darting around them — searching.

It happened in an instant — the shadows silent and invisible until it was too late. The creatures appeared with a sudden flash, long curling claws slashing into your side — catching you unawares. Your shout of pain alerted the rest of the party, everyone drawing their weapons quickly.

Astarion went to the enchanted daggers at his side, hurling them through the air with easy precision as they found their target. They boomeranged back to him, sliding into his waiting palms. He had gotten rid of one, but there were way more than usual. Wherever they had stumbled into, it was not good.

“Shit!” Karlach swore loudly as more shadows appeared after the ones they downed. Continuing to converge around you, drawn to your huffs of pain and blood. Your blood, the scent that was usually so sweet in his nose but now had dropped an anchor in his stomach. There was too much of it, much too fast.

“Watch out!” Wyll shouted in warning to the vampire, before sending several of his powerful red blasts soaring out of his hands.

With a glance to his side, the rogue twirled around Lae’zel’s strong, cleaving swing with ease before releasing his daggers once again at the creatures advancing on you. But he threw them a moment too late — their clawed strikes sinking deep into you before the magical daggers ripped through them and back into his hands.

The sound of your knees crashing into paved stones made Astarion's teeth chatter. His heart lurched into his throat, your name choking out of him as he screamed. He had never moved so fast — it almost seemed like he had blinked across the battlefield like Gale so often did.

“RAHHHHH!” The booming roar of Karlach echoed in his ears as she raged from seeing you fall. The rest of the party converging on the remaining shadow creatures attempting to surround your unconscious body, moving in sync with each other with a deadly precision.

Knowing that those creatures were being taken care off, Astarion fell to his knees next to you — his pale hands grabbing onto your shoulders. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You didn’t stir, your head and limbs shaking loosely as he moved you. He dragged your head onto his lap, before unbuckling the holster on his belt. He tipped the the precious red liquid from the healing potion between your lips. He said your name, running his thumb across your face.

You didn’t stir.

“Darling?”

His red eyes studied you, your face looking lack luster and eyes remaining closed. Your hands laying limply at your side, unmoving. He couldn’t hear the familiar thrum of your heart.

No, no, no, no.

“Astarion?!” Gale shouted, his voice exhausted and strained as he split his concentration just enough to check on you two.

The world tilted as the wizard instead shouted for you. But you couldn’t respond... because you were —

“You can’t die, dammit!”

Suddenly, you were all bathed in a golden light for a moment as Shadowheart brought down a thunderous strike of radiant energy, defeating the remaining shadow creatures as they shrieked in pain. Then the sound of thudding metal and footsteps as the party surged forward to you, panting for breath.

Wyll’s eyes went wide with worry as he saw you unmoving, his hand covering his mouth,“ Are they—?”

Astarion looked up at his party with bleary eyes, his hands trembling as he held your face on his lap. “They won’t wake up. I tried, I gave them a potion and they—“

“Oh gods.” The Blade choked out, his face immediately crumpling.

Gale shook his head, immediately dumping the contents of his side satchel onto the dirt. Scrambling through them, “No, no, we can do more! I’ll have a scroll or, or — Shadowheart!!”

The cleric had remained in the back, her face half covered in shadow. Her nostrils flared as she looked down at you. But she made no move forward.

Astarion’s red eyes pierced through her, before narrowing, “Bring them back.”

She didn’t move, her face blank. “My goddess will not allow it.”

“Princess! What are you talking about?” Karlach tried to grab her hand, but Shadowheart pulled away. “It’s Giggles!

Her black braid swayed back and forth as she shook her head, taking one step back. “She is Shar’s enemy. She is my enemy.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your goddess.” The vampire spat, his lips curling, “Bring. Them. Back.”

“I—" A moment of hesitation as her voice shook and her eyebrows furrowed.

Gale let out a shaky breath, his fingers pushing back his long hair. His brown eyes were shining with fear. “I have no scroll, I—“

“We are running out of time!” Lae’zel finally spoke out, glaring at Shadowheart. “Do something now, istik.”

Astarion voice was deadly, his fangs baring as he shout out. “If you don’t do this. If you let them die— I will hunt you down and become your worst nightmare. I will fucking haunt you! BRING. THEM. BACK.”

“Shadowheart, please.” Karlach whispered, finally getting ahold of the half-elf’s hand.

Conflict flickered across her face, before she stepped forward. She crouched next to you, bowing her head as her hands began to glow with golden light. Her small hands rested on your unmoving chest, before the light disappeared into you.

A loud gasp escaped you as come back to life. Your hands finding purchase in the dirt as your eyes snapped open wide with fear and uncertainty.

Astarion let out a loud breath, tipping his head back with a silent thank you to anything that was listening.

The sigh of relief echoed throughout the entire party. Minus the dark haired cleric, who stood up quietly. Her throat bobbed as a hard to read look crossed her face and she backed away.

“I— what, what happened?” You asked groggily, your eyebrows meeting in the middle from confusion.

“You scared us Giggles.” Karlach sniffed, “Thought we’d lost you for a second there…”

“I… I was gone?” You craned your neck, looking up at Astarion, alarm etching every feature of your face.

He opened his mouth, but no words could come out. Fear and panic still held a tight grasp around his throat.

“For but a moment.” Gale stepped forward, his voice practiced but reassuring. “Shadowheart brought you back.”

Your bottom lip wobbled as you fought instant tears, before you croaked out, “Thank you.”

A quiet grunt is all you got in reply from her.

You sat up gingerly, Astarion grabbing your elbow to steady you. Your blood and the strange ichor from the shadowy creatures was clingy to your clothes. You were shivering — a combination of the cold and from the knowledge that just mere moments ago you had been dead. The vampire had undone the clasp of his cloak and was wrapping it around you before you could say no.

“I think it’s best we head to camp. We will take the paths we know.” Gale spoke up first, gathering the contents of his satchel that he had spilled across the ground.

Karlach took your pack from you, slinging it across her back with ease. “Fangs, help me get them up.”

He rushed to his feet, gently pulling you up with him. You swayed for a moment, but your fingers tightly found his forearm to keep you steady. “Thank you,” You breathed.

Him and Karlach slowed their pace to match your weak steps as you walked between their sides, both of their arms wrapped around your waist. Gale was leading the way with Wyll at his side, his staff a shining beacon as the two kept their heads on a constant swivel. Lae’zel brought up the rear, her sword remained out as her eyes narrowed on the huddled form of Shadowheart. The cleric’s arms were hugging herself as she kept her eyes on her boots.

Astarion couldn’t help but count your heartbeats, the rhythm now steady and thumping like normal. He needed to recommit the sound to memory. If only to drown out the reoccurring one of hearing it stop.

• • •

You were much quieter than usual, the lute you would strum by the campfire abandoned. Your eyes were blank as you stared into the flames, licking and dancing across the logs. You were miles away, your half-full dinner plate forgotten at your feet and now licked clean by the camp dog and owlbear.

Shadowheart and Karlach had almost immediately retired to the latter’s tent — still in there now, speaking in hushed whispers that even Astarion’s elven ears could not pick up. Lae’zel was sitting on her perpetual watch, her sword balanced across her knee as she polished it. Wyll sat closest to the fire, using the warm light to inspect a map of Moonrise Towers you had found today — making marks and notes, strategizing the best way to rescue the lost Tieflings and his father. Gale was dutifully at your side, sharing the log bench and reading quietly — his mage hand holding the book up for him and turning the pages.

Astarion watched from a far, sitting at his own tent. He was not interested in feigning conversation. But he wasn’t interested in his own activities either — the book he had open on his lap had been on the same page since he first sat down. Instead, he was watching you carefully.

The scene from earlier in the day was repeating in his mind, he couldn’t shut it out. Not just the sound of your heart stopping, or the scent of your life blood draining out of you. But how you had clutched to him as you journeyed back to camp. That the trembling in your lip would stop when he looked over to give you reassurance.

You had slipped into a deep shock when you arrived in the familiar comforts of camp, almost instantly dissociating once you breached your group’s makeshift home. Gale had swooped in then, his mother-hen behavior taking over as he ordered you to change while he cooked.

So, the vampire had slipped away. Disappointed to no longer be needed. Wishing he too could dissociate or play healer or anything, something to just stop his racing thoughts and pained heart.

His pointed ears perked as you spoke.

“I’m going to go for a walk along the river.” You said suddenly, breaking the quiet that had been settled around the camp for hours. You braced your hands on your knees as you stood up from the bench.

“Do you need company?” Gale asked from your side, already starting to stand up to join you.

“I’m okay, just going to the dock… to collect my thoughts.” You didn’t notice the hurt in the wizard’s eyes as you rejected him. No, your eyes were searching around the camp, looking for something. Someone.

They settled on Astarion.

He raised a single white eyebrow, your eyes never straying from his. A silent invitation, maybe? To join you on the dock.

You gave the smallest indication, a tilt of your head that anyone else would have missed. Then you were off, heading across the camp before turning toward the tree line closest to the river.

He waited for a moment, as to not make it obvious. Perhaps to spare Gale’s feelings, that you had silently asked him to go, and not the wizard.

“Off to get lucky?” Wyll asked as the vampire marched by.

“Wh—what?” He stuttered, steps faltering as he turned to look at his companion still sat on the dirt by the fire.

“Gonna try your luck with a hunt?” The warlock rephrased, looking up from his stacks of maps and parchment.

“Oh. Yes. That’s it, ‘hunting’.” He waved his hands and did a funny little bow, before turning on his heel. When had he become such a terrible liar?

With a practiced lazy grin, he bid the rest of his companions a quick farewell before following the trail into the tree line as you did.

The docks weren’t far from camp. A few minutes journey down a well-walked dirt path through the sparse woods led him to the quiet river.

You were already sat on the wooden dock, your boots half hazardously tossed behind you and your feet hanging in the water. Your head was tipped back, arms stretched behind you as you seemingly basked in the silence. Astarion made purposeful loud steps, causing the wood planks to creak. To announce himself, to avoid startling you.

You didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Instead you merely opened your mouth to speak, “Hello, Astarion.”

Oh, how he loved it when you said his name like that. Like you had been waiting for only him.

“Darling.” He drawled from behind, standing carefully next to you.

You turned your face so you were now looking up at him instead of the dark sky, “Thank you for knowing I wanted you here. I didn’t want to announce it.“

A smirk quirked his lips, “Good, I can still read you then.”

You looked at him quizzically, “Have you been having difficulty doing that lately?”

“You…, He cleared his throat, “You have been keeping me on my toes, yes.”

A cheeky smile spread across your face, your eyes sparkling with delight. “Oh, you must hate that.”

Yes, he did. He rolled his red eyes at you, “I certainly haven’t been bored since I met you.”

You both let out chuckles, before you patted the spot next to you on the dock. “Sit with me?”

He joined you, removing his own boots and rolling up his pants to sink his legs in the water. But then he paused, his pale feet hovering above the blue water. “What creatures lurk in this river, do we know?”

“Oh, don’t be a scaredy-cat.”

Astarion huffed before placing his feet in. He hissed from the cold temperature, but after a moment it felt refreshing on his tired and sore feet. A relaxed sigh escaped him, and his shoulders lowered slightly.

You both sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Then he kept glancing at you from the corner of his eye, but was careful to not get caught. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked at the question. “I— I’m not sure how to answer that. Okay, I think. Are you?”

“You scared me today.” He admitted without thinking, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, your fingers kneading the flesh of your thighs.

“I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to… Just never do that again, ok? I know you did nothing wrong and you were just standing there but don’t ever put yourself in a situation like that again.”

Your brows met in the middle, your mouth turning into a frown. “The path we are on is a dangerous one, Astarion… I can’t—“

“No. Nothing can happen to you. I won’t allow it.” His voice cracked, so he swallowed some of the emotion down. “So stay at the back, behind me, I don’t know. But I will not witness what I did today again, you understand me?”

“Okay,” You submitted with a nod, “It’s all still very hazy for me…”

“It was terrifying. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like that.” He chewed his inner lip, surprised at the confession that had just hurled out him.

A haggard breath left you, before you abruptly stood up. You started to fumble with the buckle of your pants, staring out into the river as you took it off and tossed it behind you.

He watched you with confusion, “What in the hells are you doing?”

“I want to, I don’t know, feel alive. I need to reset. I can’t get the feeling I had when I came back out of my chest.” Astarion knew that feeling, had felt that feeling. And it still resurfaced sometimes.

You peeled off your shirt next, then your trousers, the clothes falling in a small pile at your feet — until you were suddenly stark naked standing on the edge of the dock.

Astarion did his best to hide his awe at you, standing confidently above him — completely nude and bathed in the dim evening light. You stood there for a moment, your chest rising and falling as you took quick breaths. “Well?”

With a sudden leap you jumped into the water, a joyful yelp escaping you as you splashed into it.

“Have you gone mad?!” He asked after you, holding his hands up in defense of the cold water that splashed from your movements.

“Yes! Join me in my madness.” You said with a loud laugh, the musical sound ringing in his ears. You threw your head back, your bare chest exposed as you flopped backwards and began to float in the water.

He looked at you like you were demented. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“Astarion, come in. There are no ghouls or creatures. It’s nice.”

He set his jaw, his words coming through his gritted teeth. “I can’t — I haven’t swam in two hundred years.”

“Oh.” You realized, before standing in the water to show him, “It’s like the baths we took near the grove. You can touch the bottom, I’ll help you.”

His red eyes couldn’t resist roaming your wet figure, backlit in the evening light in front of him. Then he snapped his eyes away, turning his nose up, “You’re intolerable.”

“You love it. Now get that stubborn, pale ass in here.”

The vampire huffed as he stood up, “Hmmph, it’s a good thing you’re pretty, you know. Or everyone would reconsider why they condone your behavior.”

You flashed him a smile, before turning around and dunking your head into the water — giving him privacy to undress.

The vampire slid off his clothes, carefully piling them next to yours before staring down into the dark blue water.

Fun. That’s what you were searching for. Just a moment, a thrill. It wasn’t a distraction like what he had tried to do in the Last Light Inn. It was.. an escape. He could do that for you. It was probably one of the few things he could afford you.

“Oh hells,” He hissed through his teeth before jumping in after you.

Even as a cold-blooded creature, the water was a shock to his whole system. He felt goosebumps cover all of his flesh, his muscles drawing taught from shock. But as he surfaced and saw the delight flickering in your eyes, he instantly warmed. “Are you happy now, you wretched little thing?”

You didn’t reply, instead grinning and nodding childishly.

“Good.” He smiled back, “Now, what?” His feet could indeed reach the bottom, he stood in it, the water gently moving over his shoulders and collarbones in the lazy current. It was nice, but foreign — a sensation he was still trying to grow used to after all this time.

You bit your lip and shrugged, beginning to swim in a slow circle around him. Before sending a large splash of water over him.

“My hair!” He cried out, before his eyes narrowed and settled on you. “You minx, you’ll pay for that.”

Another laugh escaped you as you tried to outmaneuver him, your wet arm slipping through his hand as he tried to grab you. So he instead launched a counter wave back at you, splashing water across the back of your head.

“Muahaha!” The vampire let out, his grin spreading across all of his features.

Your smile was contagious, addicting. He could feel strain on his face from his own smile as he laughed with you, the longest a genuine one had been plastered on his face for centuries. The two you played in the shallow river, splashing and shrieking like children. It was liberating, he had never felt more free. Not even the day when he had realized he hadn’t perished from the sun’s attention. This was somehow better.

His wet, pale hand caught your wrist as you went to slide past him in your game of chase. You swallowed slowly, your plump mouth hanging open slightly as he tugged your closer to him — drawing you nearer until you were face to face.

Your eyes were hooded, staring at his mouth. But not possessively, not with the hunger and objectification he was used to. But with longing? How long had you been looking at him like this?

He tilted his head forward, meeting you halfway as yours lips pressed into his carefully. A soft groan escaped you as you felt him kiss you back.

His pale fingers grabbed your naked waist, pulling you into him so your bodies were flush — your chest cold and hard from the water pressed into his own. His fingertips dug into your fleshy side as you deepened the kiss, opening your mouth to him. Your hands trailed up chest, your fingers tips playing with the sensitive skin on the nape of his neck and moving into his hair. Your touch gentle yet firm — it was maddening.

It had been sometime since you’d touched each other like this, but there was something different tonight. Arousal was flooding through him, his lower belly tightening and warming as he hardened against your thigh. Gods, did he want you right now. And not to perform, not his almost ritualistic routine for Cazador’s prey. He just wanted you, needed you for only himself.

As he felt you push into him more, a low moan escaped him.

But then he felt a familiar shiver travel up his spine, disgust — not at you, or him. But at the tainted act. Haunting memories of back alleys and side rooms flooded through him.

Gods dammit.

He had wanted this — to kiss you, to be with you. To indulge for just a moment in you, even though he knew he could never truly have you. A temporary bliss to sate his thoughts of you, his need for you.

Loathing burned through him for ruining the moment. So, instead he tensed his jaw, furrowing his eyebrows as he continued. He could persist, he insisted to himself as his hold on your waist tightened.

You two had barely kissed twice more before you pulled away, completely breathless. You caught your breath, before looking up into his eyes, “I don’t want to go any further tonight, I’m sorry.”

He froze, before his fingers immediately left your waist. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! You’re wonderful. Just… a lot happened today, and I’m still overwhelmed I think. I hope you understand.”

He understood more than he could bare to say. “Of course.”

He’d never thought to just ask to stop. He never had the choice, the free will to. If he stopped he would have no prey for his master. Then he would be punished. And the punishment that Cazador would doll out for him was a much worse abuse then enduring the practiced torture he did with his victims. So he had just done it…

But you had asked. You had listened to yourself, and your wants and had stopped. You were vulnerable and honest in a moment of passion. You trusted him to listen.

You trusted him.

“And don’t apologize. Not for that.”

You pecked him on the cheek — your lips incredibly soft, it was only a puff of air across his skin. “We should probably head back — the others might be worried.”

He blinked back to reality, nodding along as different thoughts and memories flooded him. “The others, right.”

You both got dressed quietly, your clothes sticking to your damp skin and hair. You began to walk back towards the forest line, the dirt path leading back to camp looming in front of you.

Astarion glanced over at you, but blinked as he had realized he caught you staring at him. Your cheeks flushed brightly, before you ducked your head.

“Gale told me about what you did for me today.” You said quietly as you walked, your eyes fixed on the trail and hands twirling nervously at your side.

His steps slowed behind you, “Oh.”

You turned to face him, your eyes soft yet wide, “Shadowheart may have cast the spell. But you… you’re the reason why I’m here. Thank you for fighting for me.”

His heart thudded, as he felt an overwhelming urge to go to you. To hold you like he had in the river. His fingers twitched at his side as he instead swallowed and spoke, “Of course. You would have done the same.”

The sounds of the camp began to trickle down the trail, soft chatter by the fire could be heard from here. Surely meaning that any thing said between you now could also be overheard. You seemed to realize this as well as you turned back to him one last time.

“Astarion,” You called back. Every time you said his name, it was like a piece of him that he had long forgotten about came back to life. “I’m very glad I met you.”

He thought of all the moments that led to this one. Dying in that dirty, dark alley. Clawing his way out of his own grave. Two hundred years of misery, and begging, and torture. To the nautiloid and the god damn worm slithering in his head. And then to you — under him with his knife to your throat on the cliffside, flushed and dancing at the Tiefling party, sleeping soundly next to him in the inn. And to now, staring at him with your soft eyes and smile, your sweet laughs and touch still echoing in his ears and across his skin.

Maybe the gods had answered his calls after all — if he had been fated to meet you along.

“So am I,” He smiled back.

Continue to part III here!

#bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x tav #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 fanfic #astarion/reader #astarion/tav

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leopardmuffinxo · 8 months

Note

what are some of your favorite bg3 mods? :)

hi anon! this list may be longer than you need, but i am a mod whore. ♡ happy modding! ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

CC Additions: De-Accessorized NPC Hairstyles Makeup and Tattoo Edits Customizer's Compendium Custom Hair Colours Highlights and Greying Honey's Hair Kitchen New Character Creation Presets WIP Long Straight Hair Tav's Hair Salon Horns of Faerun Faces of Faerun Scarred Female Heads Eyes of the Beholder More Hairs

Clothing/Accessories: Drow Priestess Robe Ellian's Trinkets Noble Trickster's Garments Modular Equipment Basket Full of Equipment. NSFW version (SFW Version Here) Misc: Lab's Boratory P4 Custom Dyes (learned to make custom dyes this way too) No Abs for Gale and Astarion Astral Sea Dice Set

i also answered an ask here about installing them, if needed.

#anon asks #answered asks #bg3 modding

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cinnamonfairyfluff · 1 month

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RULES: Post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 4 outfits they would wear

I wasn't tagged or anything, but I'm bored so I'm making more tav content mwahahaha! I saw @beesmiley do this and it looked fun.

I'm gonna do Cinna first! My beloved noble-born half-elf sorcerer 🩷

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Songs

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Outfits

Being a noble, she would have pretty refined tastes, but her clothes would also have to be comfortable enough to accommodate for her adventurous nature. She usually wears blue, since it matches her eyes and compliments her pink hair, but she also gravitates to lavender stuff (to match with Gale, of course)

She would 100% wear this corset top with either a skirt or pants, depending on the day.

And she would wear robes like these while practicing her magic and studying

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #Spotify #my ocs #meet my tav #my tav #bg3 tav #sorcerer tav #wild magic sorcerer

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lonepower · 6 months

Note

idk as much about lilin so maybe this is too many, BUT: 2, 4, 5, 7 general, 14 for story and – idk if any of the dark urge stuff would apply for her since she’s your dark urge, right? if so, 15 + 17? if not, 10 + 11? and, 1, 2, 5 for romance?

Yeah, she's my durge! So much of who she is (how much of that is even left) is tied up in that fact, so for these purposes she's still Bhaal's Specialest Princess™ if you're not playing dark urge, and if you are... I guess you'll probably have to kill her, either because she's in your way or because if you're not going to become his Chosen, she'll definitely try to usurp you. Whoops.

(Sorry this took SO long btw, the more I got into her head the more I realized what a... complicated companion she'd make 😅)

2. Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

None of them trust her all that much: she's not currently outwardly murderous, but it's really clear there's something not-quite-right about her. Lae'zel disapproves, pretty steeply for early-game, if you free her from her pod (You find her trapped on the beach, where her pod has cracked open and buckled, pinning her legs. You can free her with STR/DEX, leave her to die, or if Zel is in the party, give her a merciful death). Astarion sees her washed out complexion and sharpened teeth and sunlight sensitivity (got that szarkai disadvantage) and is torn between trying to (not-so-)subtly deflect any Ambient Vampiric Behaviors onto her, and not drawing attention to it in case Tav notices the similarities. Gale wonders if she might be a fey of some kind and advises you to watch your wording around her; Wyll actually vaguely recognizes her, having noticed "such an unusual moon elf" once at a function, and muses that something is definitely off (perhaps drawing a connection later to Duke Stelmane?).

4. What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Despite the hit that her INT took by being lobotomized (it's 9, oof), she was a scientist—up-and-coming head of the physickers’ guild, not that she remembers this—so curiosity and intelligence will go a long way, as will any kind of magical or intellectual hubris (reading Thay, bargaining with Yurgir, getting both Mayrina and the hair from Ethel, etc) or dialogues using the [medicine] skill check. Reassuring her about her memory loss, lapses, and general Durgeiness will net approval pretty quickly, but will also heavily influence her to lean into them, so if you want to actually help her you're going to have to balance some regular approval loss. If that's not your concern, though, being vicious or unnecessarily cruel is always a good way to make her like you ♡ Conversely, she doesn't actually disapprove of being nice or offering to help, as long as she gets to kill someone, so she approves equally of (for example) slaughtering the grove and of slaughtering the goblin camp.

She is still super racist a noble-raised drow somewhere deep down, so she'll disapprove of what she sees as demeaning oneself before or conceding to "lesser" races, such as kissing the goblin's foot or stopping Nere from murdering the gnomes. (She does approve of leaving him to suffocate, though.) She also tends to disapprove of shying away from knowledge just because it's "tainted" or "unnatural", ie if you soothe or destroy the Necromancy of Thay, or if you let Gale cleanse the shadow circle in Balthazar's backroom. And if you actually treat her Urges as A Problem that she needs to put in work to help fix, she'll disapprove, at least at first—but it will turn out much better in the long run.

5. Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

There's pretty much nothing you can do that will get her to leave, but there's plenty you can do that just straight up kills her. Non-Durge players can give her back to Kressa Bonedaughter, avoiding that fight. (Lae'zel approves; Astarion approves if your approval with both of them is low, and disapproves if your approval with one or both of them is high; and everyone else strongly disapproves.) She'll volunteer to be Malus's test subject, but you can scroll-of-revivify her afterwards (earning an inspiration point and a big chunk of approval from her, a little approval from Shadowheart, and a lot of not-quite-disapproving-horror from Wyll, Karlach, or Gale). If your approval is low enough, she will try and kill you, and will revive hostile no matter what. If you help her get the Slayer form, she'll use it in the final battles, but then you'll have to fight and kill her while she's in it unless you're planning to rule the Absolute together.

7. Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game? Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

This is the one that took me the longest, because honestly, having the dark urge as a companion character could actually be really cool, but it would also be pretty complicated! I think at its core it would revolve around a hardening/softening (or I guess "embracing/resisting") mechanic similar to Leliana in DA:I, where there's a hidden ticker for both player and ambient actions, similar to approval, that influences how far she's leaning into or fighting against her Urge.

Stage one of the actual quest is of course figuring out the amnesia-and-murderosity thing, which mostly kicks into gear in act 2. If you pass a (pretty low, like DC5 or something) perception roll in the illithid colony you can ask her "hey... you don't happen to know why there's Another twitchy doll-like blind-eyed bone-pale silver-haired crazy lady waltzing around down here?", which of course she doesn't. Kressa's notes will also help with the figuring out the mystery thing. As for resolving it, there's two paths that I think would be fun: Withers, or the Mycology Husbands. If you do the whole parasite potion sidequest for Omeluum, you can ask it about mental shielding wrt the Urge. It can't help you in act 1, but promises to think about it, and if you then rescue it from the Iron Throne, that unlocks the turn-her-illithid ending (but she still has to be softened enough to accept it). Withers will, in turn, cryptically help you with the probably more rewarding route of "get this girl some goddamn therapy," which will require enlisting the others to actually, y'know, take her seriously. This starts after she kills—let's make it the backup bard so that poor Alfira isn't doomed no matter what. (If you're durge, there'll have to be some other way to handle this. this grove ain't big enough for Two demigod serial killers...)

On the other hand, if you're going the evil route, she's not complaining. If you want a goodbad end, just get her approval high and leave everything else alone, because her default state is "agreeable most of the time, and also extremely dangerous"; voilà, you've got an excellent attack dog. If you're also Dark Urge, though, you're going to have to watch out, because she won't be as keen to share the Chosen title with a competitor. If you don't soften her enough before act 3, she will turn on you, possibly in the Tribunal arc but definitely when the time comes to decide how to deal with the Absolute. And if you soften her while not resisting your own Urge, she's not going to appreciate your hypocrisy and will probably try to retaliate just on principle!

14. How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer? Can they offer to become one themselves? Does their reaction change if they’re romanced?

Depending on your approval and what direction her quest has taken, she'll either be sort of melancholically approving, or just brush it off. "We've both become something our old selves wouldn't know." versus "I don't care what you are, if you're a threat I'll kill you and if you're not you're not."

She doesn't offer to become one by default, but if she's softened enough and you've done that route of her quest, you can suggest it as a way to break Bhaal's control over her. In this ending she'll either return to the Underdark (if romanced, or if the Emperor/Orpheus are dead) or stick with your other illithid ally to help and/or learn from them.

10. How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

Whether the player passes or fails the constitution check: "Oh, that looks good. Can I have some?" (Devnote: absolute, earnest sincerity)

[Rotten spider meat added to inventory]

You get +1 approval and some interesting facts about the chemical composition of displacer beast saliva if you give it to her.

11. What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

TAV: Lilin, why don't you go? You seem like you need cheering up.

LILIN: [+1 approval] Okay.

If she has high approval, isn't softened, and passes the hidden perception/dexterity roll, you only have to fight “Dribbles”'s lackeys, because she puts her arm through his ribcage when he tries to grab her.

1. Is your Tav a romanceable character? Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

I think she could be, but I think it would go over poorly with a lot of players, because there's no way it wouldn't be either Weird or Difficult in like a lot of ways. for safety's sake we'll just say she can't be romanced as another dark urge at all, so we don't have to account for "wellllllll if they're not the same species are they really related", because that's Way more discourse than it's worth lmao. You can sleep with her at the goblin or tiefling party, where she's (outwardly) politely flattered and (privately) startled and more than a little relieved that you'd even think of her that way; all the other companions have been handling her like she's made of glass, so she's desperately glad that someone here is treating her like a consenting adult and not something to be equally feared and pitied. It's probably a prerequisite to romancing her at all, actually. Gale is in the background giving you this look:

Lilin is at least 35 years older than him and can kill him in more ways than he has scrolls, thank you very much.

2. Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough? / 5. Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

Approval doesn't matter for the first fling with her, but you're going to have to get it pretty high to actually propose any kind of romantic partnership. You'll have to walk a pretty fine tightrope, too, because being patient or kind with her or downplaying her issues at all will raise your approval but is—as the companions in my playthrough learned with a lot more surprise than I thought they were due—going to do the opposite of help, reviling or lecturing her is going to close her off, and encouraging her is going to end badly for everyone. A lot of things that net approval will also point towards her Bad End, especially if you're the only one taking her seriously (which, as you noted with Amity, literally nobody except Halsin does). Making sure you're not her only lifeline will do a lot of good here; I imagine there could be an interesting role for Withers, given the part he plays in a resistant durge's ending, but you're going to have to get some of the others (Shadowheart, who she's close with in my playthrough, and Halsin, who actually fucking takes the "amnesia and murderous compulsions" thing seriously enough to suggest causes and solutions, come to mind) to come around as well. If you manage to undo the brainwashing, free her from Bhaal's control, and help her build an actual healthy support network, you could probably get a pretty good ending! On the other hand, there might be a fun GoodBad ending too where you do what Gortash proposes and rule the Elder Brain together. (If you try this as Durge, she attacks you in the very last scene and you have to pass a series of checks to 1) Not Die 2) kill or mind-control her and 3) maintain control of the brain, all while being Lightly Stabbed.)

tl;dr she is probably not worth the trouble akddnrh.

#replies #cannibalisticskittles #lilin duskryn #baldur's gate #sorry about the delay!!! this gave me some trouble ack #also sidebar it like. Hurts Me to refer to omeluum as ‘it’#if blurg refers to it as such then those are probably what it prefers! but like!! it's a PERSON IT'S NOT AN ‘IT’#i mean like it Is but.#the emperor is easy. i'm pretty sure they've been referred to by Every standard pronoun at this point so I just default to he/they #anyway!! thank you very very very much for the ask :D

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sorcerous-caress · 4 months

Note

Sending this all in one ask even though it's technically four different things, hope that's alright-

1. Ik it's small and just in the tags but the Sol response for the soulmates post is so 💞

2. I really liked the writing in your Yurgir post, just thought it was really neat and I liked your wordings (I could not come up with a better way to word this, though- my bad). Let him protect Tav!! Even though he's also completely wrecking them <3

3. I agree really hard on the backgrounds giving dialog options. It really feels like it should be a thing- I think maybe all background affects dialog wise, is whether or not your character gets the Baldurian tag..? But that might just be a race thing (in which you'd either get Baldurian or Underdark. Or... Nothing for githyanki? Unless they have the Planar tag? Idk)

I may not be able to have the option in game, but in my mind's eye my noble Tav introduced themselves proudly with their full name, and Astarion immediately poked fun at them for how much of a mess their family is known to be. Them most likely recognizing Wyll as the Ravengard son and assuming he'd know of them as well but he straight up doesn't. Beautiful stuff

-Tressym anon

Thank you for taking the time to write this! Love hearing your thoughts <3

1 - You read it!! I didn't think anyone would notice, I'm so happy. I really want to add them to the several characters mini-lists I make but I always hesitate because since the post will leave my blog tags, I don't want it to feel like I'm forcing my OC into the fandom main media?

So I just leave it in the tags for my readers to hopefully find, since only you guys know about Sol and will see the OG post while most people will see reblogs of reblogs without my tags.

It's like, while Halsin embraces fate and has faith in it, Sol and Minthara do not. They realise how incredibly lucky they are to have met you. Sol condems fate for being so pitiful, how easily they'd have never met you and just spent their life hiding their true self and following their family.

While Minthara fears fate, she knows she would've killed you under any other circumstances. She dreads the idea of never waking up from her brainwashing, be it from Lolth or the Absolute.

2 - I'm glad to hear you liked it! I can't stress how I will never get tired of hearing this or how these comments never get redundant to me. Honestly, I'm having a really bad day rn but still pushed out a fic bc I felt like it's been a while, it makes me feel appreciated when people tell me they liked anything about my works. So thank you again from the deepest of my heart.

3- omfg, the Astarion idea is gold. He would totally have gossip on most noble families since he spent so much time in the upper city. You'd be announce yourself and titles so proudly and he'd be like "didn't your cousin runaway with that barmaid and leave his wife and three kids behind?"

Or playful banter with Wyll since he came from nobility originally, the two of your characters could've seen each other as kids or something before the whole Mizora thing and he'd be like "wait...I remember you! You're that kid who stole my piece of cake during my birthday party"

Also imagine insulting Gortash during his coronation with a noble background, basically calling hime fake nobility and how he doesn't know the first thing about rulling or etiquette.

Maybe when you come back to the city, you already have an account made in the bank and don't need to start another? Maybe you get pickpocketed quite often because you "look rich" and if you sleep at any camp besides the elfsong tavern, you remain restless and don't heal to full.

Being an obnoxious noble sounds way too fun. A spoiled rich person who has to trudge around in the mud in the underdark and complain about their silk clothes getting absolutely ruined while the party snicker behind you.

Imagine teaching Lae'zel and Shadowheart how to slow dance <3 or taking Karlach to a very fancy restaurant reservation during her date in act 3!

#♡Noble tav #♡tressym anon

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commander-rahrah · 5 months

Text

Talking to the Moon: Part IV

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~4700 Warnings: swearing, PTSD, trauma, past/implied abuse, fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here

Summary: Set at the end Act II in the Gauntlet of Shar. Shadowheart finally faces Reader/Tav's blessing from Selûne in the temple of her dark mistress.

Notes: We finally got to the angsty part between Reader and Shadowheart muahaha. I've had a couple of these lines stuck in my head FOREVER. Does anyone else play the game and immediately start thinking of the scenario and more detailed dialogue for their specific Tav?? No.. just me? ahaha...

Also — Shadowheart rejects Shar in this, as an FYI. If that isn’t your cup of tea or prefer other decisions, etc. that is your discretion for your own game, etc.! For the purpose of my fic and this specific Tav, that is the route I took and don’t want it to be a debate! 👍🏽 Cause I know that happens in fandom sometimes - and that’s not what this fangirl is about baby!

I also just really really love the idea of letting Astarion and Reader/Tav explore things sloooooooooowly. Like little tiny fingertip touches and touching shoulders. I think that Astarion being emotionally vulnerable with someone first and slowly building up to being physical intimate is just MUAH chef’s kiss.

ANYWAYS Ted talk over — Thank you so much for reading and interacting! It means so much to me ♡♡♡

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

“Tell me another thing.”

It was Astarion’s new favorite game — asking for you to confide in him, to tell him about how you see him. The things that made you fall for him.

Each one had made him feel more and more seen. More and more safe. Some had been surprising characteristics he would have never assigned to himself — but you had explained them so earnestly that he couldn’t help but believe you. You had said he was strong, that he had more strength than he realized. That he was funny (obviously). That he was open-minded.

He was collecting the compliments and observations, letting them stroke the flame inside of him that he had long thought dead.

“Hmmm…,” You were sat on the worn, dirty floor leaning against a crumpling wall. The group was taking a moment to rest after another harrowing trial in Shar’s Gauntlet. Squinting your eyes you pretended to study him, before speaking, “I like how materialistic you are.”

“Oh." Something akin to shame flooded through him. "I don’t like this one, pick another.”

A chuckle escaped you, shaking your head. “That’s not how this works.”

The vampire frowned at your laughter, “This one seems like some back handed compliment." He turned his nose up, trying to mask the small twinge of pain spreading in his chest, "Just tell me I’m pretty instead.”

You finally recognized the hurt, the smile vanishing from your face. “Astarion, I swear it's not a backhanded compliment. It’s something I genuinely like.” You sounded earnest, you looked solemn.

He met your wide eyes, nodding as he believed you. “Hmph. Why?”

“Well, you know I come from a noble background… I grew up with certain luxuries and I miss them." You admitted, your nose scrunched. "It’s nice to have someone who also appreciates the finer things in life.”

He realized that you thought it was trivial to admit such things, surrounded by death as you all embarked on a seemingly impossible mission. But you were being honest and vulnerable with him in the broken hallway of the dark temple.

He kept his tone light, smirking at you. “I do have good taste.”

“Excellent taste. You would love the keep I grew up in, the art and amenities…" You closed your eyes as if you imagined them right there. "I dream of them on cold nights on my bedroll.”

“Hmmm, tell me about them tonight when we are holed up in our tent.”

Our tent. A slip of his tongue, but it really had become that way. You rarely were in your own tent anymore, only enough to change and store your things before you were slinking into his.

“I’ll take you there someday and you can see it yourself.”

His eyebrows shot up his face, shock morphing his features. You thought that far ahead? Taking him to see your home? Meeting your family?

You smiled at his reaction, before filling in for his stunned silence. “And… you’re very pretty.”

A puff of air escaped through his nose, his lips quirking. “Oh I know.” He stretched his fingers, before sweeping his thumb across the back of your knuckles. “Thank you," He whispered.

You smiled at his touch, your eyes darting to where his pale fingers met yours.

The pair of you stayed in that quiet moment, until it was broken by the sound of a swear echoing down the length of the crumbling hallway. "Shit!"

Karlach and Shadowheart were sat across the hallway, the tiefling putting on a new bandage across the half elf's small palm — or was attempting to. The cleric had sliced her palm three times now, offering her blood in the name of her dark mistress before every trial. The party had winced every time she did it — but the woman never faltered.

And she didn’t not heal it with her divine abilities, instead letting the wound remain, cutting into it deeper with each trial and then only wrapping it up. She said it was intentional, purposeful pain that her Goddess demanded. And that she alone would pay the price for it.

Astarion had immediately marked the strain in your face as she said it. Knew that you wanted nothing more then to remind her that she was not alone, that she could be anything, anyone she wanted to be.

But the words had remained unspoken. Like you didn't have the right to say them to her anymore.

The vampire was now watching you watch them — studying you once again, trying to decipher how you were feeling. Karlach continued her efforts, but her large fingers fumbled as she tried to tie the knot and the bandages fell off again.

"Godsdammit! Sorry, Princess." She said sheepishly, snatching the bandages up quickly.

"It's okay, Karlach." Shadowheart shook her head, looking down at her hand and squeezing it into a fist. She winced from the pain, a hiss coming from her mouth.

"May I?" Your voice was soft, quiet as a mouse. But not so quiet that Shadowheart did not hear you. She flashed her eyes over to you, her face contorted with genuine surprise. The cleric said no words, instead nodding and offering her hand out.

Astarion remained sitting, watching as you stood up and crossed the hallway to the two women. You knelt before her, bowing your head slightly as you grabbed the bandages and began to wind them tenderly around Shadowheart's hand. If it were another moment, another person, the vampire would be jealous. Wishing he had a wound himself so that you could offer your services and gentle touches.

But this was monumental. Not only was it a rare sight — one blessed by Selûne taking care of one of Shar’s disciples. But it was an olive branch, a silent offering that meant much more then those bandages. An offering of peace and acceptance.

He was sure he saw Shadowheart's eyes lining with silver as you worked, the bob of her throat as she swallowed thickly. With a slight cough, you made to stand back up. "All done." You said in a hushed voice. But before you could stand up, the cleric grabbed your elbow.

"Thank you," She choked out. The gratitude was for more then just this moment, he imagined.

You bowed your head again, "Of course." As you marched back across the hallway, Astarion stood up to meet you. He ducked his head to look at your face, a silent conversation passing between you as your eyes met. An art the two of you had begun to master already.

Are you alright?

I will be.

He blinked and nodded in understanding, before falling into step at your side.

• • •

Every place they explored in the Shadowlands somehow topped the previous wretched place. If Astarion never had to step foot in a temple of Shar again, it would be too soon.

The air surrounding them was freezing, and the hairs on his arms and back of his neck had been standing up for what felt like hours. It felt like eyes were always on him, trailing after your group and judging every step taken.

Glancing behind him, he waited for you to step onto the disc with the rest of the party. You were hesitating on the edge, the smallest tremble in your hand as you stared down at the floor. "Darling?"

Your face shot up, like his voice snapped you back to reality. You looked rattled, completely shaken.

Astarion extended his hand out to you, beckoning you forward. He grabbed your hand easily, pulling you into him with a questioning glance before letting go. The rest of your party was looking at you, worry forming in their features.

You had all but stepped into him, your shoulder pressed into his. He actually didn't mind it one bit.

“You look pale, are you feeling okay?” He kept his voice low, his mouth downturned.

You gathered yourself for a moment, before flashing him a smirk. “I’m pale? Coming from the vampire himself?”

“Ha," He rolled his red eyes. "Trust me, my sweet. I’ve memorized the flush of your features by now — something’s off.”

Your eyes settled on Shadowheart for a moment, before looking down at your boots. “I think it’s being in here… Her gift is straining inside me.”

Her gift, Selûne's blessing. You didn't dare say the Goddess' name in Shar's ruined temple. The rest of the party had heard the tale over the campfire about a week ago. While most of their faces had been filled with awe and astonishment when you had told them then, now their faces were only anxious.

“Oh gods, you’re not going to...?" Wyll trailed off, his brows furrowed together.

“Drop dead? I hope not.” You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“Not funny.” Astarion hissed, flashing you a look. The sentiment was echoed by Gale, chastising you for saying such things.

You quirked your mouth, before wrapping your arms around your torso. "I'll be fine."

Suddenly, there was a loud click and the disc you all stood on began moving — descending deeper into the ruins.

Astarion heard the heartbeats of the entire party begin to increase, the thrumming pounding in his ears. None were as loud as the rhythm of your heart.

Then the scent of your fear filled his nostrils.

He could think of no words, no quips or jokes. The dark ruins had been taxing, draining. And he did not know what to expect at the bottom of this temple.

But he was afraid too. Afraid for you, for both of you.

The disc settled below with another audible click, and as the rest of the party began to move off of it and deeper into the next area you stayed planted where you were.

The vampire stayed with you, eyeing your complexion that was turning paler by the minute. Your breaths labored as you blinked, long and slowly. His red eyes followed your line of sight — to Shadowheart and Karlach.

The half-elf and tiefling were standing before large ornate doors, shoulder to shoulder. Their hands were intertwined, fingers laced together as they continued to stare the door down.

Your eyes were fixed on their hands, before you licked your lips and spoke quietly — only for him to hear. "Would you be okay with that?”

His brows furrowed together in confusion. “With what?”

“A touch like that.”

A bewildered look crossed his features. Here? Now? This is where you wished to discuss such things. Moments before stepping into the unknown darkness of the mistress of night. He stepped in front of you, his back to the rest of the party as he looked you in the face.

“Holding hands? What next, you want to cuddle?” He teased with his sharp tongue.

The smallest twist in your features was your only tell. Anyone else would have missed it — a flash of sadness at his rejection.

He suddenly realized it. Longing. You had been looking at the pair holding hands with longing, yearning to be touched like that right now. "You want that, don't you?"

You stiffened, as if you had said the wrong thing. You stumbled over your words, immediately backtracking, “Not if you don’t want to. I'm sorry, I just thought—“

His eyes softened at your reaction, “You’re upset.”

“No, never." You shook your head, your voice unwavering. "It’s your choice, Starry.”

“I’m not the only person in this—" In this, what? Finish the sentence, Astarion. He thought to himself. "Is it, something you would like to do?”

“Maybe." You licked your lips, before nodding self-consciously. "Yes, but only if you were okay with it.”

“I can try." He whispered sincerely, before looking back over his shoulder to the group. Shadowheart and Karlach remained at each other's side, their fingers still intertwined in a tight grasp. "I just— I don’t really understand it. The touch I’m used to is… sensual, erotic. Or incredibly violent. I thought touch was only supposed to lead to some explosive end, one way or another. What’s the point of it?”

“It’s comforting, holding the person you care about. Feeling their presence with you, when you need it." You admitted, your eyes unguarded as you looked at him.

He recalled how he felt when you had held him in your arms in the river. How he had let his fingers linger and hold onto you as you pulled away from that first hug. The overwhelming urge he had sometimes to just be near you. He could understand that feeling, he knew that feeling now. He just wasn't sure how to act on it.

"I think I'd like that." He agreed, the corners of his mouth pulling up with a hopeful expression. "I will try."

You smiled back at him, the pair of you momentarily forgetting where you stood. What was to happen next. What could happen next.

As you made to finally step off of the disc, he called your name softly — halting your movement. "We will get to try."

It was a promise. A vow.

No dark mistress or Absolute or bastard vampire master would stop him from having you.

You nodded, smiling back at him before moving to join the others.

The group was cautious as they entered into the final chamber, the hundreds of candles in the room suddenly lighting with an eerie purple flame. The coloured flames flickered and cast dancing shadows on the stones around them, all leading to a pool of still water. A ginormous, untouched statue of the Mistress of Night stood in it — her arms outstretched, beckoning you forward.

"This must be the last step. I need to pray. Only by Lady Shar's grace did we even make it this far." Shadowheart fell to her knees immediately, offering silent prayers to the intimidating figure ahead. Karlach stayed loyally at her side, but her brows were crinkled with worry.

Everyone lingered behind, unsure of how to proceed.

"I'm ready." The dark-haired cleric spoke, determination flashing in her features as she stood up. The spear she had fought and bled for in the trials strapped to her back. She held a boot over the unmoving water for a moment, hesitating for a moment before stepping into it.

A voice spoke throughout the chamber, echoing and rattling the stones. The candles flickered with her voice, as if the magnificent voice caused the cold breeze that suddenly filled the room. "You are so close, my child. So close to fulfilling your destiny. And is that another trophy you bring for me? You honor me with your dedication.“

The party turned to stare at you. Shar was aware of who you are, of what lingered in you. Astarion swear he saw Shadowheart’s bottom lip tremble as her gaze fell on you again.

But you put on your practiced expression of calm, nodding at your companions to continue. But as you stood on the precipice of the pool, Astarion noticed your fingers twitching at your side.

It should have been be so easy for him to reach out and hold them, like you said you wanted. He had been daring himself to touch you more lately — a brush of his knuckle against yours, tucking an unruly strand of hair behind your ear. He was trying. He wanted to, so badly.

But something was holding him back. A weight on his chest and lungs that made it feel him feel so tainted and undeserving for such things.

He hesitated for too long, and your hand was moving away as you stepped into the sparkling water. So he took his own steps in. The water was ice cold, instantly sending goosebumps over his entire body. Then a frozen sensation that went deep into his half-dead body. It began clutching at him, at everything he was and ever could be.

His red eyes widened, searching frantically for you beside him — his hand reaching out wildly for you before he was suddenly pulled under.

• • •

The last thing you had seen was Shar’s menacing face —looming over you, spelling your end. A blanket of cold had surrounded you, tightening unbearably around your ankles and wrists before yanking you down into the darkness.

You had never been afraid of the dark before.

You could no longer say that.

With a gasp, you wretched your eyes open to find yourself somewhere new. Standing on a craggy rock, floating in raging winds and surrounded by streaks of lightning. A living storm of black and purple swirling around you.

"Lady Shar...," Shadowheart's voice was quiet — her tone a strange mixture of astonishment and fear. "I can feel her all around. This is her domain. This is the Shadowfell.”

“Bloody hells.” Gale muttered, the wizard's mouth a hardline.

“We best keep moving.” Lae'zel ordered, eyeing the surroundings with a look of disgust on her face.

You all murmured in agreement, before traveling down the precarious craggy rocks until you were at the very bottom. You hesitated at the site of a person— a pale, large woman dressed in only shredded rags.

The Nightsong.

She stood in the centre of several complicated sigils, the symbols radiating a sickly green. Her head flicked up to your group, her eyes narrowing as she inspected every single party member. Before they settled on you, and softened.

“I recognize you." Her voice was hoarse at first, like she hadn't spoken out loud in ages. "You aren’t a sibling… But I recognize you. Why are you so familiar to me?” She cocked her head at you, her eyes studying you. There was a flicker in them — hope.

Her hair shined silver like yours, but her eyes glowed even brighter. Much more than any mortal could. Your mouth fell open as you realized. She was not blessed by a divine being like you, she was immortal herself.

“You are...“

“A child of the gods.” She finished for you, and even clad in nothing but rags she stood tall at the words.

“Selûne’s?”

Your mind raced as you put together the pieces, the ritual on the stone similar to the secret room of Balthazar. Kethric’s undying nature. She was bound here in the Shadowfell — being syphoned like those fairies in the lanterns. And the dark justiciar’s — they used her, killed her like a bounty for their goddess. Over and over. As Shadowheart was meant to do now.

But you. You were bound to nothing, and you were not born from the goddess — only a mortal woman, who feared for her child. A mortal mother who was thousands of miles away, not knowing where her child now stood, not knowing that they were waiting to see if a spear would be driven through their chest too.

"My mother spoke of you once. I don't think that even she knew we would meet." The daughter of Selûne eyes shone with quiet understanding. The flicker of hope in them still catching light somehow in the dark storm in the Shadowfell as she stared at you.

Shadowheart stepped forward, toeing the edge of the ritual symbols carved onto the floor. Her face was stoic, determined. Yet she refused to look at you.

"But you.” The woman’s eyes dragged to the cleric, her voice a vicious snarl. “YOU. You, who have come to seek the praise of your wicked goddess. You, who have come to drive a dagger through my heart."

"Not a dagger — a spear. My Lady Shar's spear. Your fate is mine to seal." You noticed Shadowheart's hands were trembling fists at her side.

"The fate that you seal is your own. To be a Dark Justiciar is to turn your heart from everything but loss. You will know no love, no joy — only servitude." Karlach stiffened next to Shadowheart, concern etching every feature of her red face. "Until, of course, your mistress inevitably discards you. And there is much she does not tell you — a terrible blood price that may extend beyond my own death. Beyond your companion's."

The cleric looked over her shoulder to you, her eyebrows furrowed. You said nothing, keeping your face steady.

But it was the first she looked you in the eyes since you found yourself in the dark place. Truly met your gaze. And the rage and betrayal you had first seen in them that day she learned the truth about you had lost their heat. Instead you saw only pain and regret.

Astarion made to move in front of you, to act as your shield as Shadowheart turned her attention on you. But you waved your hands at your side, silently asking him to stop.

You knew the rest of your party waited with bated breath for you to intervene, to speak up for this woman, for yourself.

But instead, you held Shadowheart’s gaze and waited.

The Nightsong spoke again, drawing her attention away from you. "You may think you know what they are, but do you know what I am, little assassin? For I know you — a lost child, frightened by wolves in the dark."

"What did you say?"

"Much has been promised to you, hasn't it? But what has been taken from you?" She asked sadly, her eyes piercing through Shadowheart. "What do you know of your own heart — your own life? I sense more in you then you know."

"I—" The spear was suddenly summoned into her hand, her light coloured eyes widening as she feels its weight. It was as if Shar would wait no longer, and would thrust the weapon into her hands and guide it through the Nightsong if need be. "I..." She raised it up, inspecting the intricate designs and deadly tip of the spear. The bottom of her eyes filled with silver as she studied it.

And just as fast as it was summoned, it was gone. Soaring over the party's heads, away and into the swirling storm below them.

You let loose the breath you didn't know you were holding.

It was echoed by a sigh of relief from the rest of the party.

Shadowheart's mouth was agape, staring into her empty hands and then to you. A humorless laugh escaped her, like she was in a state of shock. "I can't believe I just did that. Lady Shar will disown me... what will happen to me?"

"Not what will happen — what will you do? Your past is not yet lost. Your future is not yet fixed. Lay a hand on me in friendship, not-quite Sharran, and I will fight the battle that been waiting for me this last century." The large woman knelt before them, bowing her head. "Then — oh then, we will have much to discuss. All of us." She looked up to nod at you, still standing on the edge of the circle.

The cleric stepped forward with more certainty then she had in most of the trials in Shar's Gauntlet. Her head held high before she grasped the child of the god on her shoulder. Suddenly the green of the binding ritual turned into a bright, silver light. The woman fell to all fours as the silver light traveled through her.

"Our lady of Silver. Hear me! She Who Guides, the Moonmaiden Selûne — mother of the so-called Nightsong. THE NIGHTSONG IS NO MORE!" Then she began to levitate in the air, a shining light of white and silver wrapped around her before large wings spread from her back, and spectral armor and sword appearing upon her body and in her hands.

The group was amazed as they watched her fly up and up. Before she landed with a gentle thud.

A child of a god indeed.

"I am resplendent. You have given me a great gift, little warrior." She nudged Shadowheart's chin with a gloved hand, before stepping back. "Come now — there is a battle to be fought."

"My kin," She looked back to you, her eyes and brow set in a determined line. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?" You asked, stepping forward until you were at Shadowheart's side.

"To kill Ketheric Thorm." She flashed a wolfish grin that was filled with a controlled rage. Vengeance and justice was to be served by that glowing spectral sword in her hand. With a large woosh, she was soaring into the air and vanishing back to the mortal plane.

• • •

It wasn't until you were out of the Shadowfell, away from Gauntlet and endless depictions of Shar that you all finally spoke.

The cool air of the Shadowlands was welcoming for the first time since you had arrived. Astarion watched as you took large gulps of air, your hands resting on your hips as you centered yourself again. The colour was already returning to your cheeks, your heart slowing to a familiar rhythm.

He made to reach out for you, but Shadowheart got there first. A look of surprise flashed across your face as she threw herself at you. "I don't— I don't know what to say." She muttered into your shoulder.

You swallowed hard before holding her back fiercely, your mouth quivering. "You don't have to say anything. I forgive you."

Astarion blinked. You gave her your forgiveness so easily, much easier then he would have. But wasn't that one of the things he was so fond of? Your kind heart, your innate goodness. That even though he didn't feel he deserved your attention, or that Shadowheart deserved to be forgiven, you still granted it to them. Your kindness was not just for him, but for everyone in the group. The hubris wizard and seasoned fighter who didn't think they were enough. The warlock and barbarian ripped from their homes. The manipulated manipulators who were used and discarded.

“You can't—You can't just forgive me." She pulled away from you, staring at you like you had gone mad. "What I did, what I almost did — I almost didn’t bring you back that day, oh gods—" Her hand moved over her mouth, her brows meeting in the middle.

“But you did.”

“But if I didn’t—" Her voice broke.

You grabbed her by the shoulders, ducking your head to look at her. “But you did. And we will not speak of the past any longer. But we will get you answers for your own, okay?”

"What she wanted me to do in there, what she's made me do..." A sob escaped Shadowheart, the sound breaking something in Astarion. Something that hit a little too close to home. His red eyes flickered to his boots as he tried to keep his own emotion at bay.

Your next words were a whisper in her ear, too low for even his elven ears to hear. But you both nodded together, before Karlach was pulling the cleric into a hug of their own. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, whispering her own affections to her.

Before the vampire could even try to will himself to do the same things for you, you were in front of him. He could see no hint of expectation on your face, only relief as you took him in.

He ran the tip of his finger down your wrist, to the back of your hand, before trailing it in your palm. "That was all a little dramatic, wasn't it?"

A tired chuckle escaped you, "I'd thought you'd learned by now that we have a flair for it, don't we?"

"We certainly do."

Suddenly, flashes of divine white power swept above you, before shooting fast across the sky — the light silhouetting a set of large wings. Without further thinking, Astarion threaded his pale fingers through yours, squeezing them slightly as he watched the light head closer and closer to the imposing tower in the distance.

He gulped as you squeezed back.

Your party watched the sky for a moment, silence filling the air before you all stared at each other. Your tired, aching bodies were begging for rest. But the world would not wait for you to rest.

"To Moonrise?" Gale asked, a sad, tired smile on his face.

"To Moonrise." You nodded, starting to march forward and lead the group forward.

Astarion curled his pinky around yours as you meant to pull away, not quite ready to let you go again.

Read part V here

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