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thrillofhope · 1 year

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Chapter 3: Heavy Lies the Head that Wears the Crown

“You said you’d bind yourself to me.” Her words are slow, a mirror of the way Narya moves between her fingers. “To rule by your side, a balance.” Her hand clenches in a fist around the ring. “But you never meant to share power.” She steps closer to the iron bars. “You would have drained the life from me, used my power to your own end.”

“Galadriel—”

“You would have sought to dominate me.” He grabs her wrist, his grip bruising, pulling her roughly against the bars. She can feel his heated breath on her lips. “You cannot help it.”

“Galadriel.” Her name is menacing, hopeful, fearful from his tongue.

“Unhand me,” she demands through gritted teeth.

“Give me what I am owed.”

She scoffs. “You are owed nothing.”

He pulls her closer, iron bars digging into her flesh. “Nothing save for death at your hand?”

“Even that is a kindness you do not deserve,” she spits.

He releases his hold on her wrist, but the intensity in his eyes remains. “I could never dominate you.”

Galadriel shivers. She almost believes him, wants to believe him. But, she had believed in Halbrand, a purported answer to her prayers, a means to finally, finally putting an end to her people’s foe, and it had brought her nothing but pain. She only has herself to blame, in truth, too blinded by her desperation to find Sauron to see what was right in front of her. She only has herself to blame, and yet…

She hates him for making her feel so foolish. Hates him for his multitude of past sins. For making her feel pity for him. Feel hope. Feel…

She slips the ring onto his finger, binding them in hatred, in power.

He tangles his fingers with hers, Narya and Nenya singing in the beauty of their closeness.

“I will win you over, Galadriel,” he promises. “It may take centuries, but you will come to trust me, to depend on me, as you did with Halbrand.”

“I will never trust you.”

“You would say never when eternity lies before us?”

Galadriel rips her hand from his, feeling the loss with the entirety of her spirit, but needing the distance. She leaves him in his cell, ignoring the way he calls after her. What were a few hours longer in a cell with eternity in the balance?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42938157/chapters/108090576#workskin

#rings of power #fic #the lesser of two evils #chapter 3 #Sauron x Galadriel #very reluctant alliance #three rings for the elven kings #well one elven king a Lady and a Sauron #galadriel x halbrand #haladriel

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time-to-write-and-suffer · 2 years

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One thing that's bad abt writing a new thing is coming up with all the names.

Like I have so shamefully go over to fantasynamegenerators, feeling like a fraud of an author, and get a bunch of nonsense-sounding names and pretend they make sense for a while until I come up with something better.

#elf marriage wip #oh yeah baybee it has a tag now wooo #i'm gonna make two little bitches get married for politics and then they fall in love for real #but they're not gonna be snarky about it #mostly awkward and/or sad #this is gonna be like 20% angst and 80% fluff #yes elven alliance i am coming for your ass specifically

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elfy-elf-imagines · 3 months

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Tolerate It | Thranduil

▹ Pairing: Thranduil x Human!Reader

▹ Genre: Angst

▹ Words: ~2k

▹ Summary: A political alliance makes you the new wife of the elven king Thranduil, trapping you in a gilded cage of elven craft.

▹ Notes: I couldn't get this idea out of my head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The banquet hall of Eryn Galen was buzzing with high energy.

The lights were bright, the drinks flowing. Each guest was too deep in their cups as the band played jaunty tunes that kept spirits high. You sat at the end of the table, to the direct right of Thranduil, Legolas seated directly across from you to the king's left.

Everything was beautiful, similar to what you imagined heaven may look like. The celebration had been highly anticipated, the steward meticulously planning for months to ensure the night would be perfect.

Each guest had dressed to the nines, and you had been no exception. Silks that flowed like a languid river, braids woven throughout your hair, and glittering jewels that rivaled the stars in the sky. You’d felt quite pretty after your handmaidens finished, taking in your appearance with rapt attention.

Yet as the king - your husband - met with you, he barely paid you more than a glance. Not a single compliment or acknowledgment slipped from his lips, just the stiff offering of his arm and a cold demeanor you’d never been able to break through.

Not even the bitterness of the red wine you drank could ease the pain festering inside you. You glanced at Thranduil, his attention on his steward whispering something in his ear. Regal and commanding, you’d thought marriage to the elven king would be something out of a fairytale. Yet your story became twisted, and instead of a happy ending, you were trapped in a doomed marriage. It was like a wall separated you from him; you’d tirelessly beat against it with a hammer; Thranduil was on the other end, reinforcing the stone.

You glanced down at your dress, the pale green fabric, Thranduil’s favorite shade. Even still, you were desperate for his validation and approval, like a child tugging at their father’s sleeves. A stray hair fell in front of your face, and you pushed it behind your ear, hands ghosting over your rounded ears. Maybe if you’d been an elf and not a human, he might view you as an equal and not a consolation prize.

One hand below the table closed into a tight fist while you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp.

Legolas met your eye from across the table with an almost apologetic grin. You returned it with a tight smile you tried to make pleasant. Legolas knew all too well the neglect his father could inflict, so he often preferred the forests over the palace. There was an understanding that made your pain more bearable.

The handmaidens you brought from home and your stepson, who was older than your eldest living relatives, were all that kept you from falling into true despair.

Like clockwork, a servant filled your chalice, and you gladly drank. This wine was sweeter and less sharp than the red you were expecting. Once again, you looked towards Thranduil, no longer speaking with his steward but quietly watching the party play out. You reached out, delicately placing your hand over his, only for his to push it away, not bothering to pay you a glance.

The blatant rejection stung, always taking up too much space and time. Would Thranduil even notice if you’d stolen away into the night? If you pulled the dagger your marriage embedded in you, breaking free and leaving this miserable life behind. What might it be like to shed the weight of Thranduil’s cold disposition and an overly suspicious, judgmental, elvish kingdom? You’d be free and weightless for the first time in years.

Yet, just as soon as the fantasies came, they fizzled out with the weight of reality. You had no money of your own, no survival skills, and nowhere to go. If you returned home, your father would ship you back to Thranduil. The dark forests and the creatures that lurked within would kill you. There was nowhere to go. No freedom to be found.

You didn’t bother hiding the frown on your lips; no one in the room paid you much mind. They looked through you as if you were a phantom that clung to the residence of its former life. How was it possible to be in such a crowded room and yet still be so alone?

"How much longer do you believe this will go on for?"

At some point, Legolas had moved from across the table and was now seated to your left, watching the crowded room with thinly veiled discomfort.

" I hope for not much longer. I've never been amendable to crowds so large as this one."

Legolas laughed, the noise swallowed by the noise of the room. "And yet you are queen; should you not be used to such raucous parties?"

You tilted your glass towards him, a slight quirk on your lips.

"I could say the same about you, prince."

He nodded in silent agreement, quickly drinking from his glass, which you noticed was filled with water and not wine.

"I get to run off to the forest. How do you deal with all of this?" The smile on your face fell as your eyes dimmed, a reminder of your current standing.

"No one pays me mind. A blessing, I suppose." You attempted to laugh it off, but you couldn't keep the somberness from your tone. You were trapped in a gilded cage, a prisoner in your own home.

"Then I suppose I'll need to take more respites in the castle."

"You don't need--"

"I insist; what kind of friend would I be if I didn't check on your wellbeing."

So warm and inviting, it made you wonder how Legolas could be the son of Thranduil; he must take after his mother. You wondered, if only for a moment, how different your life might be if you'd been married to Legolas instead of his father. He was the more age appropriate option and if he didn't love you he'd at least respect you. But those thoughts were pointless; you'd been married to Thranduil and not Legolas.

"I think I'm technically your stepmother."

"But you feel more like a friend."

You didn't bother to argue, placing down your wine chalice to take a cool water drink. It was refreshing, soothing the burn the wine had created.

"Then I am glad we are friends."

Before he could respond, a member of his guard called his name. The elf enthusiastically waved him over, yelling something in elvish too slurred for you to understand.

Legolas shook his head, refusing the call, but you placed a single hand on his shoulder.

"Go, enjoy the night. I'll be fine over here."

He tried to discern if you were being dishonest but found nothing but sincerity. Just because you were miserable didn't mean he should be. With a single nod, Legolas left the table to join the group forming in the corner of the room.

Left in the chaos with no one to speak with, you picked up the chalice with wine. At some point during your conversation, Thranduil wandered off, talking with some of the higher-ranking nobles.

Thickly, you swallowed, hiding your face as you slowly drank from your glass.

When would this torment end?

---

The night dragged on at an impossibly slow speed. Your sorrow brought time to a near halt. By the time the crowd began to thin and Thranduil had escorted you back to your shared chambers, you’d forgotten how many glasses of wine you consumed. You managed to keep your composure and pride, not letting you show how light and lethargic the alcohol made you.

Now, you sat before your vanity, preparing for bed as did Thranduil. There were so many pins placed in your hair that you struggled to pull them out without ripping your hair. Your head throbbed, and your frustration was building; you just wanted sleep. A cold hand pushed yours away, tangling in your hair. With practiced and fluid movements, Thranduil began to take down your hair. He was quick and efficient, his hands in your hair almost soothing.

The action was oddly domestic, and it caused a pang of pain in your chest. If the gods had been fair enough to bless you with a husband who loved you, this would be a nightly occurrence, not a rare show of care.

“There’s too many pins in your hair.” Always critical; nothing would ever be good enough.

A beat of silence passed; did he even want you to speak?

“It was a special occasion; I wanted something different done to my hair.”

Clink. He placed the last pin on the table and stepped away from you.

“It was a bit gauche.”

Expression tight, you stared at your reflection, focused on your dark hair that tangled too quickly and your nearly pallid complexion. Gauche and graceless, the elves would never view you as their own.

“I thought it looked nice.”

His answer was to silently turn his back to you, moving to the other end of the room. The silence was maddening. Your attention never moved from your reflection, lips downturned as your eyes hardened. Pain turned to rage, pity becoming an all-consuming fire that threatened to turn all in your wake to ash.

“Why marry me?” Your tone was harsh, firmer than you could remember speaking.

Thranduil let out a sigh, seemingly annoyed at your mere presence. Normally, his disregard made you shrink, and maybe it was the wine, but it only made you straighten your back, meeting his eyes through his reflection in your mirror.

“To seal an alliance with your kingdom, you know this.” He was always condescending; he was so much older and wiser.

“I understand political marriages, but why marry me? You’ve managed political alliances without offering your hand in marriage; you even have a son to marry off. So why--” You slowly stood from your chair, turning to face him directly. “-marry me?”

“Would you have preferred to marry Legolas?”

“I’d prefer you answer my question. So I’ll ask once more: why marry me?” You strode towards him, eyes narrowed.

“To ensure an alliance with your family.”

“That is it? For no reason other than that.”

Thranduil looked down at you, his lips tight.

“Did you hope to hear differently?” He tilted his head, eyes ice cold and bitter. “Ours was a marriage of convenience, not love.”

You clenched your jaw, swallowing thickly. All of it for nothing, a marriage he knew would never succeed. He may have been content with a loveless life after the passing of his wife, but he knowingly dragged you into it. To turn your life into a void--

You wanted to scream, to yell obscenities at him, to spit all the vile venom his careless behavior filled you with. But it would do no good. An emotional breakdown wouldn’t mend your rift; there was no foundation of respect to rebuild. It was just endless nothingness. Standing at the precipice, you would simply fall into a never-ending pit.

“I see.”

A hint of shock made his eyes widen a fraction, expecting an outburst like the one you fantasized about. Humans weren’t known for patience, yet it wasn’t patience that kept you silent. It was dejection; you'd given up hope of anything better than what you had.

You dared not move, not even blink until Thranduil turned towards the door.

“I think I will ensure the keep is secured. Goodnight.”

Head turned, yet your eyes remained where he once stood; you remained silent. The door opened and quietly shut behind his retreating form. Only then did you exhale the breath you’d been holding.

The bed was plush under your body, and the comforter was like a cloud, yet you’d never felt more miserable. You turned your back to the side Thranduil would take when he returned to the chambers. Eyes shut, soothed by the darkness, you dreamed of something more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

#thranduil imagine #thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #middle earth imagines #lotr #tolkien #lord of the rings #lord of the rings oneshot #mirkwood elves #lord of the rings fanfic #king thranduil

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theoppositeofprofound · 9 days

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How much more deranged would Middle-Earth be if Tolkien was given access to modern scholarship re:the ageless depth of trees?

It’s true that by the end of the Third Age, no trees in Eregion remember the elves that walked there. But there’s an ancient yew in Rivendell that Gil-Galad planted, a clone of one of the old trees of Lindon, that’s still thriving when Elrond leaves his home. It’s seen elven kings and laughing lords and harried messengers. Though trees don’t care about such things, it’s nice to be seen.

There’s a golden aspen grove between Lothlorien and Fangorn. The elves say Nimrodel planted it before her name was Nimrodel, before continents sank, when the forests were home only to a handful who loved them more than paradise.

By the shores of the Mirrormere is another yew. In a little known tradition, kept by one dwarf alone, every Durin plants a few of its seeds, and one of those trees always lives long enough to see his next self.

There’s a cypress in the port of Umbar. Locals say the lord in Mordor planted it the first time he visited (he was still in the habit of planting trees back then). It lived past several of his deaths but faltered, finally, beneath the ashes of his last, worst destruction—more than four thousand years later.

On a tiny island in the sea is a little cluster of spruce trees—some scrap of drowned Beleriand too holy, for one reason or another, to falter. It’s the same tree—when one falters a new coppice comes to take its place, growing out of the same root system. There’s a betting pool among the deep sea fishers of the Falathrin about whose grave lies beneath.

Much is made of the White Tree of Gondor, but on the hillsides in Ithilien, dangerously close to Minas Ithil, are gnarled olive trees that witnessed the Last Alliance. Faramir is inordinately fond of them without knowing the reason why.

Ulmo keeps a garden of sea sponges. The oldest didn’t just see Númenor founded and drowned, it saw the bones of the very first second-comers. (Ossë collects many things.) It’s been… 10,000 years? 12,000? Sponges don’t keep time, they just remember.

Ulmo also keeps a bed of sea grass older than the destruction of the Lamps, but he doesn’t mention that to other people; it’s just for him.

#tolkien #lord of the rings #the silmarillion #I was going to do a Mirkwood bullet but I ran out of long lived tree species #maybe they get a terrifying wollemi pine situation

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guvmy · 5 months

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Small facts about the Neverseen

they're super underrated guys

Alvar has "crazy theories" on Mr. Forkles Identities

These guys are super insane and hate eachother

Fintan made Keefe do his laundry

Alvar supervised this

Trix isn't a "huge fan" of Alvar

Ruy is a heavy snorer

Alvar and Ruy are heavy sleepers (which made them "perfect victims" for pranks)

Umber likes the fact the elven/human hand has so many bones, makes it easier for her to torture someone.

Trix hates trolls (umbers death) and would've quit if the Neverseen allianced with Empress Pernille

Some dwarves work for the Neverseen (not enough to make decent amount of food tho)

#koltc #keefe sencen #alvar vacker #ruy ignis #fintan pyren #kotlc fintan #kotlc fandom #kotlc headcanons #please #they need more attention and fanart oh my gosh please. they are extremely funny guy please #this is a girlblog #this this this #yep #all of this #idk how to tag this #This is all canon btw #this is insane

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carlandrea · 2 years

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Something about how the wood-elves weren't part of the war against Sauron until the last alliance. Something about how two-thirds of their army died.

Something about how their forest was inexorably corrupted over a thousand years, and something about how the other elven realms, the ones who were involved—it's their fight and it's their family history—somehow, somehow, stayed safe.

Something about losing everything to someone else's war.

#Mirkwood #tolkien

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chaoticspacefam · 1 year

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“I’ve been thinking about this lately. I was trained to be a Jedi, practically from birth...I wonder if it was the right thing. I never really got the chance to choose.”

“You can do whatever you want now, Ashara.” “....I guess I’m still trying to figure out what I want.”

#swtor #elven's swtor screenshots #elven plays swtor #swtor oc: ni'kasi ahaszaai #sith pureblood #sith inquisitor #darth occulus #ashara zavros #togruta #[clutches my heart]#ok hold on a second. hold on a second!!!#my last few inq runs were very much imperial-loyalist DS-darths so i never got to pick the not-jerk dialogue option for this convo with them #and OH MY GOD i'm gonna CRY ;-;#listen kas might not fully agree with or understand ashara's wanting to still stick to the jedi code (or the jedi philosophy itself)#but she can definitely appreciate giving ashara the option to choose for *herself*#man ashara you're gonna LOVE the alliance when we get there its gonna be all the best bits from both sides #and it's gonna be great #anyway i love their little mentor-apprentice *almost* mother-daughter ish thing they've got going on and i can't wait to write about it #when i get around to starting kas's part of subterfugeverse #aaaaaaaaaaaaa #<3

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meluiloth · 15 days

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Let's talk about Thranduil (and the Mirkwood Elves)

The Woodland Elves are well known for being a suspicious and reclusive people, Thranduil most of all - but they are also as merry and light-hearted as the other Elven civilizations when it comes to their own people.

So I want to talk about why that is, why Thranduil is so determined to remain isolated. The reason is actually pretty simple: he lost everything in the War of the Last Alliance.

The army of Greenwood joined forces with the Elves and Men against Mordor, though their army was smallest and their people less skilled with open war, led by Oropher, Thranduil's father. Thranduil himself was there as well (and though not much is known about his wife, I headcanon her as fighting alongside her husband and her people).

The Free Peoples won that war, but with a heavy cost - and the Silvan Elves suffered greatest of all. They lost two-thirds of their army and their King, and returned to Greenwood crippled and mourning. (I headcanon that's when Thranduil lost his wife, too). The Prince of Greenwood had to take the burden of the crown while his people were suffering and while his home was rapidly falling into decay, along with struggling through the grief of losing his father (and his wife).

To my knowledge, there is nothing in the lore about the Silvan Elves receiving help from their allies, so I assume that they were left to rebuild alone, and also to contend with the Necromancer who had taken up residence in their home, and who they were not strong enough to exorcize themselves. They were even forced to take refuge underground, which hurt their woodland and tree-loving souls.

Thranduil was alone. Of course he would become bitter and reclusive, wanting to focus on helping his own people while resenting the fact that, though they had sacrificed so much, no one came to their aid. He decided that he would lend no more aid, make no more sacrifices, and suffer no more losses on account of those who would not return the favor. That was the end of that.

And really, who can blame him?

#lord of the rings #Mirkwood #Thranduil #thranduil's wife #headcanons #the silmarillion #Oropher #silvan elves #Mirkwood elves

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stiffyck · 4 months

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Having an insane elven duo moment (scar and Gem. They plague my mind.)

They are QPR to me.

My long ass rambles under the cut.

I'm thinking about my elven hair headcanon I made a post about a bit back where elves don't do their own hair but close friends, family members or partners do their hair. If an elf has unkempt hair that means they are lonely and don't have any close relationships.

I'm thinking about secret life and how Scar was all alone until the end. The fleeting alliance he had towards the end wasn't anything close to what Scar needs from an ally or a friend.

I'm thinking about Scars hair becoming more and more of a mess as the game goes on. I'm thinking about how he didn't die at the end of secret life and how in Martyns lore he gets stuck in secret life.

I'm thinking about Scar getting back on hermitcraft and Gem doing his hair. Washing his hair with warm water and a soft smelling shampoo and conditioner. Gem softly brushing out his hair and braiding it.

Scar breaking their silence after a while and apologizing for killing her at the end and for killing so many other people and for being a villain.

I'm thinking about Gem telling him it's alright, she knows it was the tasks. They all know. They all did bad stuff.

Thinking about Gem giving him a kiss on the cheek and wiping away his tears.

I'm thinking about Gem having a rough time after her first proper life game.

She had Scott and Impulse to do her hair over the course of the game. She had allies. But she can't shake the weird restlessness of being red. She can't shake the feeling of needing to kill someone.

Thinking about Gem trying to deal with everything on her own.

Scar eventually talks to her and he tells her it's gonna be hard. And if she needs she can always go to him.

Thinking about Scar washing her hair for the first time after the game is over.

Thinking about Gem being stiff and nervous and on edge. Scar doesn't blame her.

Thinking about Scar hugging Gem while they watch a movie.

I'm just thinking about them supporting each other after Secret life that's all.

#if you read all of this i applaud you #ignore any typos its way too late FJGKEKGKE #stiff talk #elven duo #secret life spoilers #gtws #gem #GoodTimesWithScar #geminitay #IDK IF I SHOULD MAIN TAG THIS BUT HERE WE GO #qpr elven duo #my beloveds

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spacebarbarianweird · 3 months

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Hello) Playing with a high elf noble Tav right now and just thought... Astarion and Tav with a Noble background headcanons?

Noble Tav is an interesting choice! I will stick to Noble Tav \ any race, but, if you want Noble High Elf Tav, let me know in the asks! There are a lot of things to write about Tav, who is an Elven royalty.

And I also found there is a sub type of Noble Background called Noble Knight. Basically a member of the nobility, who chose a life of adventures and helping the less fortunate, which I also can write, if you send me a request.

Astarion x Noble!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You were born to luxury and power, being a member of an ancient house whose lineage can be traced back to the first centuries of the Dawn of Humanity.

Will you choose the life of power? Or would you prefer to thrive on your ancestor’s legacy by simply having fun?

Since childhood, you’ve learned a lot about the history, culture, and politics of Faeurn.

You are intelligent, well-behaved, and hungry for power.

That’s why your family chose you to be sent to Baldur’s Gate to establish connections with local lords.

Baldur’s Gate looks like a dumpster to you - too loud, too dirty, too vulgar.

You receive the message that your mother has gone, and you have to return home to rule your lands.

But you are kidnapped by Mindflayers.

There is a positive side to being spoilt-rich from birth.

It’s the desire to live.

Being confident in your skills and luck, you not only manage to escape the inevitable death, but also embrace your legacy as a powerful leader.

You are going to be in charge, kick everyone’s asses and no god will bestow their will upon you.

But there is also a lesson of injustice, unfamiliar to you.

Your vampire lover and his horrible past.

You don’t believe he was a bad person.

And even if he was, he didn’t deserve this cruelty.

Besides, you see through his lies. He tries to look like a nobleman to you, with his mannerisms and habits.

But you know they are as fake as theatre decorations.

If anything, Astarion looks like a former slave trying to blend with his former owners but remaining inferior to the people of power.

Using your skills for diplomacy, you make a lot of allies - and you also think that an army of 7000 spawns is a very good dowry

What if you need them in the future?

You win and accept the title of the Baldur’s Gate hero.

Once Astarion starts burning in the sunlight, he runs away from you and you are afraid he will never come back

He does. But he wants to say goodbyes.

“Darling, I appreciate everything you‘ve done for me. But your future is without me. You are an heir, a fucking nobility. What will your people think about me being a vampire? What will your family think? They will either kill me or kill us both. Live your life, I won’t forget you.”

Before you manage to object, he disappears in the shadows again and you return home brokenhearted.

You feel lonely in your palace and helpless with things you have to do.

Laws to introduce, alliances to make, and shit to deal with.

But one day you wake up, feeling that someone is in your room.

Before you snatch your dagger, a cold hand shuts your mouth.

Astarion sits on your bed, wearing a traveller hunter suit.

“I missed you, love” he whispers, pinning you to bed.

You yell at him. You curse. You are actually so loud you wake up the guardians but when they rush into the room they get an order to treat Astarion as your guest.

You are still angry and you need time.

Astarion has a proposition. “Let’s run away! There is a world to see together. I am free but there isn’t much worth from it if I can’t share it with anybody”

You refuse. You have duties and you won’t abandon them.

You ask him to stay. To rule with you as your “dark consort”.

Besides, it’s always better to have a vampire of your own than having to deal with a vampire you don’t know.

First of all, you forge Astarion a noble ancestry. Anyway, mostly all of the ancient elven families left for the Isle of Evermeet a century ago, and it’s always possible to pretend to be one of them.

Then, you make a good excuse for his nocturnal lifestyle.

A curse. As ancient as your own house. Can’t go into the sunlight, very believable.

But you also offer a reward to anyone who will be able to bring you either a Sunwalker Ring or the Cloak of Dragomir.

Astarion helps you deal with the most difficult legal mess left to you by your ancestors.

He knows about such things much more than your court.

Astarion is your consort, your advisor, your right hand. He rules from shadows, meanwhile you shine in the sunlight.

Astarion enjoys this life of luxury to the extreme.

The best fabric for his clothes, the softest bedlinen, adornments you could buy a village with.

He is also very good at managing the palace - especially the dungeons below it, which hold thousands of secrets.

And Astarion often calls himself “your trophy husband”.

Well, he is. As the Baldur’s Gate savior, you returned empty-handed.

A beautiful prince is the least you could claim!

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanon #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #spacebarbarian headcanon #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion brainrot #astarion imagine

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