#Not That Kind of Princess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madamebaggio · 8 months

Text

Notes: Previously...

***

Chapter 3

Lothíriel was called by many ‘The Jewel of Dol Amroth’. She was -of course -honored by the love of her people, but she didn’t let it make her arrogant.

Her aunt Ivriniel had taught her that as a princess she had many responsibilities. She was born into privilege, and that came with many perks, but also many obligations.

From a young age, Lothíriel learned that people expected things from her. She had duties to attend as princess of Dol Amroth, and things she believed she should do.

That was why she understood -better than anyone -the need for a good marriage.

Her father had been kind and patient so far; willing to let her choose a partner. Many young ladies didn’t have the same luck, and were forced into marriages that only benefited the men around them. Lothíriel knew she couldn’t delay this forever, but she appreciated the time she had.

She also knew that the time was running out. Lothíriel was at a certain age; she had to get married sooner rather than later.

And she was quite aware that her father had a person in mind to marry her: Éomer King.

Prince Imrahil hadn’t come out and said it to her with quite so many words. However, he’d said -more than once -that he’d wanted her to meet Éomer. Her father was never economic in his compliments to the other man, and he considered him a good friend.

It wasn’t hard to understand why her father wished her to marry Éomer. Besides the fact that Imrahil liked the Eorlinga very much, he was also a king.

Enough said.

And Lothíriel didn’t want to hold this against Éomer. She wasn’t even angry that her father wanted her to marry him; as she’d said, it was expected.

But at the same time… She’d been a bit confused.

On one hand, she’d really wanted to meet Éomer, for the help the Eorlinga provided during the war. She also wanted to meet the man her brothers talked so much about.

And on the other… What if he was going there to meet her as a potential bride? What if his reason for meeting her was to see if he wanted to marry her? Like someone would see a horse before buying it.

Again… This was how things were done, but it didn’t mean it was good. It didn’t mean she was fine with the idea of being appraised as a potential bride.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet him anymore.

“Father didn’t talk to Éomer about marrying you.” Elphir, her eldest brother, informed her out of nowhere one day.

“Excuse me?”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Her brother said easily. “You’re smart, you probably already noticed that father would like to see you two together. I’m just saying that he didn’t tell Éomer any of that.”

Lothíriel arched an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know very well, little sister.” He told her with a fond smile. “You’ve already put your defenses up, you’re trying to figure out if he’s coming here just to see if your market price is correct...”

Lothíriel blushed, because her brother was perfectly correct.

“So I’m telling you it’s not like that. Father didn’t say anything to him about marrying you. He’s leaving the choice to you.”

Oh.

That was… Really nice of her father.

It also knocked the winds from her sails, and her walls came crumbling down.

When she actually met Éomer, Lothíriel had no defenses left.

He was just a man she greatly admired, and a good friend of her father. He was courteous, polite and so handsome.

She hadn’t expected to find him so good to look at, but he was. So different from the men of Gondor, and yet so much better.

To make matters even worse he had a nice sense of humor. He’d helped her to hide from a suitor, had found it amusing that she sicced Captain and another, and she was almost convinced he’d flirted with her a bit the other day.

Maybe that journey would be quite good.

Unfortunately, two days before they were to leave she got bad news, and that was how Éomer found her: crying.

“My lady.” He seemed alarmed. “What is wrong?”

“It is Pearl.” She tried to get her sobbing under control. “My horse. She’s in pain and I don’t know why. The stablemaster said we might need to…” She pressed her lips together, incapable of saying what she’d been told.

“My lady.” Éomer touched her shoulders. She could tell him this wasn’t very proper in Gondor, but she was in no estate to care. “Take a deep breath in.” He asked firmly but kindly. “And tell me exactly what is wrong with Pearl.”

Lothíriel followed his instructions as if she was a child and had forgotten how to breathe properly. “Pearl is hurt.”

“How?”

“I do not know. It is nothing visible, but she’s favoring one of her legs.”

He nodded. “And the stablemaster…”

“He said we need to put her down! She’s not even that old. She was fine yesterday.” She knew she was speaking too fast, she could feel tears coming down her face, but she was truly distressed about this.

“It is alright.” Éomer used his thumb to dry her tears. “Will you allow me to take a look at her?”

“Yes.” She nodded vigorously. “Yes, please!”

“Alright.” He gave her a comforting smile. “I will get my stablemaster to come along.”

For some reason, Éomer made her feel as if things were going to be better. Pearl wasn’t an old horse, it’d break Lothíriel’s heart if they had to…

Her father’s stablemaster grumbled when Lothíriel told him that other people would look at Pearl. When she informed him that this was the King of Rohan, he only seemed marginally regretful. She’d have to talk about this with her dad.

Éomer and Leorif -his stablemaster- went into Pearl’s stall and checked her leg. They discussed the situation in their own language, so Lothíriel couldn’t understand what was being said. However, Éomer didn’t seem too concerned, so she decided to take that as a good sign.

He finally exchanged a nod with Leorif -as if they’d agreed on something. He turned to her. “Her problem is here on her hock. The joint is inflamed.”

“Is that serious?” Lothíriel asked, anxious.

“It could be.” Éomer told her gravely. “But we both believe she can still recover, she’ll just need to be well cared for.”

Lothíriel turned a freezing glare to her father’s stablemaster. “We’ll talk about that later.”

The man hurried out without arguing further.

“He probably wanted to spare himself the extra work.” Lothíriel grumbled.

“Yes.” Éomer agreed, obviously displeased. “Leorif will take Pearl to where we’re keeping our horses here. He’ll take care of her, and by the time we’re back, we’ll see how she is.”

Lothíriel’s leg threatened to give out, so strong was her relief. “Thank you so much, my lord. Truly.” She threw the older man a smile. “You too, Leorif. That is amazingly kind of you.”

The other man nodded at her. “No problem, my lady. She is a beauty, she doesn’t deserve to be put down just because that one is incompetent and lazy.”

“Oh trust me. My father will hear about this.”

Éomer was studying her. “Were you planning on riding her to Lossarnach?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Now I’ll have to ask one of my brothers if I can take one of their horses.” She rolled her eyes. “But I can guess what their answer will be.”

Éomer hummed, then turned around and asked something Rohanese -which sounded lovely and now she wanted to learn the language. He nodded at Leorif’s answer, then turned back to her. “I can lend you a horse.”

“A Rohirrim horse?” She asked, full of interest.

Éomer chuckled. “Yes.”

“Really?” She could barely contain her excitement.

“Yes, but…” He pressed when he saw the glee taking over her. “It’s important to understand that this is a loan.”

“Oh, of course.” She assured him.

“It’s…” He cleared his throat. “It is just because I cannot gift you a horse.”

Lothíriel frowned. “My lord, I wouldn’t presume…”

“Not because of that, my lady. In Rohan, a man gifting a woman a horse would normally imply… A certain level of attachment.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat again. “And I would never…”

“You don’t have to explain y…”

“So just it’s clear…”

“Perfectly so…”

“It’s just that my people…”

“And the gossip…”

“And there’s your father…”

“And you’re a king…”

They both decided to stop talking at the same time. They probably should’ve stopped a while ago, but there they were.

“So…” Éomer clapped. “A loan.”

“It’s very generous of you, my lord.”

Pearl snorted, and Leorif did the same.

Well, that was a bit embarrassing.

***

Notes: Couple of things.

I don’t know anything about horses. I googled common injuries in horses that are non-life threatening, because the only thing I do know about horses is that very often an injury will result in then being put down. This is what Google told me.

Also, apparently the language of Rohan is called Rohanese according to Google, so… There I guess.

Let me know your feelings!

#madame baggio #gifs not mine #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #the lord of the rings #eomer #lothiriel #eomer x lothiriel #not that kind of princess

32 notes · View notes

baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

Text

Astarion Very Happy Ending

So full disclosure, my Tav was a Selunite, and I can't stop thinking well if Bhaal can have a mortal chosen one, why can't Selune?

Also, spoiler warning, stop reading here if you don't want, but like damn girl I freaking turn a Shar priestess away from her god back to you, free a man from his devil's contact, high-key save the world, kill bhaals chocen, convince my vampiric lover to not sacrifice thousands of people, stop an entire goblin army from murdering Tieflings and druids alike, and literally free your daughter. A reward is in order!

This is that reward:

Astarion was slowly getting used to living in the shadows again, as loathe as he was to admit it. It was quite the transition, despite the fact that his time in the sun had amounted to less than a year. But what a lovely year it was. Nearly a perfect one in comparison to the rest of his life. And the promise of more of the same was a suitable balm to being cursed back into the darkness.

It was difficult, but with the love of his life by his side it was more than tolerable. Borderline beautiful in fact, to be able to live his life so freely despite the infuriating complications.

The money also certainly helped.

That was one thing Astarion always had over his brothers and sisters, his fantasies of a better life had always surrounded around Cazador's murder. Not his approval. He may have been completely unaware of the horrifying dungeon beneath their feet, but he did know where the deed to his estate and other properties were kept. And now had enough connections with the higher up's of Baldur's gate for some frankly exquisite forgeries. It had been a particularly satisfying feeling to sell all of his former master's possessions off, even more so when it came to the land. Almost like he was tearing apart his legacy and handing it off to the highest bitter, piece by piece.

Though, being there with you to find and settle in your own little corner of paradise was an even better feeling. Maybe it didn't quite reach his past dreams of grandeur, but it turned out settling in a quaint and poorly lit townhouse in the upper city was more than enough for him to be satisfied.

It was a good charming life, one that Astarion was sure he didn't deserve. But that certainly wasn't going to stop him from enjoying it. Though as much as he adored where he ended up, he'd be lying if he said it was perfect.

No, perfect would have been finding a way for him to ascend without becoming a monster, living in a world where he could be with you fully, completely, out in the sun like the kind of lover you deserved. It made him feel... startlingly inadequate. Everything you did had to be in accordance to his schedule. His lack of capabilities. And just because you always insisted it didn't matter didn't fix the feeling of inadequacy. He hated it, hated the fact that there were so many hours of the day that you couldn't share. He didn't regret his choice, not for a moment, but that didn't mean he was fully satisfied with the consequences.

But in his own defense, he did make up for it in other ways. Mildly frustrating and draining ways, if not a bit rewarding. It had been his own fault, falling so utterly and completely for such a goody two-shoes. A zealot to Selune, as fierce as she was compassionate, always trying to do what was fair and just. Always dragging Astarion on for the ride of her cleric duties.

But he couldn't blame you for all of his new do-gooder ways. Not when he was nearly the leader of a bizarre cult of repentant vampire spawn.

It was just the slightest bit exhausting to so often be playing the part of their heroic leader, fighting all of his murderous instincts to work for a better future for himself and the brethren he had personally damned. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't get any satisfaction from it. It felt... good to teach them new ways to live. To give them the chance at the beautiful life he had managed to secure for himself.

He wouldn't do it forever, just until he was confident enough to be sure that his departure wouldn't lead to a massacre on either side. Then the two of you would be off to explore the lands, working to do your goddesses work with just a touch of hedonistic activities on the way.

Astarion was looking forward to it. He hadn't done all that work to be selfless forever. No, he was going to be forced to insist on a few years of having you all to himself, with only the occasional bits of volunteer work for the temple as interruption. Then the two of you could go back to galivanting about the lands being local heroes. But he had earned an extended vacation.

One that, luckily, he hadn't had to fight you on too much. That was just one other thing he loved about you, your complete understanding that Astarion would always be a little selfish, especially when it came to you. The one person who had ever really been his, who loved him, who understood him, who believed in him. Could he be blamed for wanting to have you all to himself?

And admittedly, he did have you more often then not. Even if on occasion he did have to share with your beloved goddess.

Astarion sighed as he watched you pray in the moonlight, completely absorbed in your quiet, mystical chants. Despite his distaste for the length of your prayer sessions, Astarion did like seeing your more ritualistic side. Just... maybe not for the morally correct reasons.

He was well aware that being so involved with a vampire was clearly against your religious doctrine. But it didn't matter. You still choose him, despite how the knowledge nearly made you an outcast amongst your own kind. But he mattered more than your reputation, more than the lessons you had been taught your entire life regarding love and evil.

You still had your faith, but you never let it shake the faith you had in him, something that he valued more than he could ever express. It was perhaps a sick thought, but it also made him feel exceedingly powerful, to know the true extent of your feelings. Even more connected. It was almost... like he was defiling you, corrupting a beautiful flower to turn away from the sun to something even brighter. A love that Astarion doubted most could ever hope to feel.

Perhaps that was not the best outlook on your religion, but oh well. He'd keep those thoughts to himself. What you didn't know wouldn't kill you. Besides... if anyone had been corrupted it was him, plagued with a new sense of loyalty and gods, justice. All from the beautifully strange woman kneeling in the moonlight.

Though, you sure were taking awhile tonight. Nearly twice as long as your usual nightly prayer. He hated to interrupt your worship but this was starting to cut into his time a bit here.

"My dear," Astarion called out, swinging his legs over your shared bed to stand, "Don't you think that you've been kneeling there for a touch too long?"

But you didn't respond, still muttering under your breath, even faster than before.

Astarion narrowed his eyes as he walked closer towards you, confused by your lack of response, "Darling-Tav?"

Astarion stopped, eyes wide as he got a solid look at your first. Your eyes were wide open, body rim rod straight as your irises glowed a vibrant blue light.

What in the nine hells was happening? Astarion kneeled next to you, his heart in his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Tav, love, can you hear me? What is this?"

You didn't answer, you didn't even acknowledge his presence. But you did start floating in the god damn air. Astarion stared, helpless as he watched you levitate, words that he didn't understand spilling from your lips.

Then just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. You fell unceremoniously to the floor. Astarion scrambled towards you, his heart in his throat as you started to come to. He settled your head in his lap, his hands shaking as he touched your face, lost on what he should be doing.

You blinked your eyes open slowly, that angelic glow still radiating from your irises. But you didn't look frightened, more... excited.

You grinned up at him, your voice slightly cracking when you murmured, "We've been blessed."

Astarion stared at you, brow furrowed. He was happy you were alive and speaking but...

"That's lovely?" Astarion tried, "But severely lacking in terms of an explanation. Are you okay?"

You nodded eagerly, suddenly sitting up with an unexpected amount of energy, "I'll explain later, we don't have much time."

What was it that compelled you religious types to be so cryptic? But you didn't give him anytime to question. Instead you wrapping your arms around his neck and smashing your lips together, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

He wrapped strong arms around your back, pulling you in closer, always helpless but to return your affection. But something about this was different. He could feel it, holy magic spreading through him through your lips, down throughout his veins, changing something inside of him. It wasn't unpleasant per say, but it certainly was startling. Startling enough for him to almost push you away, if it wasn't for the fact that he trusted you with everything inside of himself.

Neither of you pulled away until the blue fire in your eyes had died out, and Astarion was left with the intense sensation that something had changed, irrevocably inside of him.

You stared at each other, Astarion in confusion while you looked nothing short of gleeful, "Do you feel it?"

He felt... strange. A warmth still spreading through him that was settling. Astarion raised a brow at you, exceedingly impatient when he asked, "First, how about you explain to me what in the hells that was?"

But you didn't answer. Instead you stood with an adorable hop, lending a hand out to help him up, "Do you trust me?"

Astarion almost rolled his eyes as he took your hand, annoyed that he fell for someone that had just as much of a flair for the dramatic as he did, "You know I do."

You helped him to his feet before you started to mumble again, a startlingly familiar incantation seeping from your lips. It was the spell for daylight, the very same that you had used to help defeat Cazador. The kind that could now kill Astarion in mere moments.

He was too shocked at your audacity to even protest, believing for a split, terrifying second that he was about to die a fiery death. Sunlight suddenly filled the room, bright enough for Astarion to tightly shut his eyes.

Then...nothing. No burning, no pain, nothing but the sounds of you both breathing.

That didn't-how was he-what did you just do?

Astarion stared at you, absolutely flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open, staring at the borrowed daylight like a simpleton, "But how?"

You were still grinning ear to ear, looking happier than Astarion had ever seen you before. You grasped his hands in yours, your smile gentle as you explained, "I told you. We were blessed. Our Lady of Silver gave me one gift, and this is what I choose."

If sunlight wasn't already staring him in the face, Astarion would never believe it. But here he was, alive and standing under it's warmth. A gift from a goddess, spent on him of all creatures.

"It can't fix everything," You clarified with the slightest frown, "But it can fix this."

He could feel the truth in your words. He was still... wrong. A creature born of something awful, doomed to eternity and a life of bloodlust. But part of that wrongness had been culled, curling up and dying from Selune's holy magic, from your enduring love.

It was a dream he never thought possible. One that he had accepted never having. But here he was, here you were, continuing to give him the impossible.

It was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Astarion reached up, cupping your face before confessing the truth he couldn't quell.

"I don't deserve you," He whispered, voice hoarse, "I'll never deserve you. Words can't express my thanks. You have given me everything, while I have nothing but myself to give in return. But it's always yours. Everything inside of me."

He meant every word, he always would. Until his last breath.

You shook your head, gentling cooing at him, "This is a time for celebration my love, not for doubt. You've earned this."

He hadn't. And he doubted you'd ever be able to convince him he had. But he'd still take it. Gladly.

"I love you," Astarion murmured, helpless to say anything else. He pressed his lips against yours, the gravity of his new life just starting to settle in his mind.

He was free, as free as he could ever hope for. You had achieved what Cazador could not, all without a hint of malice or horrifying sacrifice. But through kindness, love, and perseverance. You had already freed him once from his own mental shackles, his last remaining ties to the tyrant that made him.

And now you've done it again, saving him from at least a portion of the taint on his soul.

It was beautiful, wonderful, and Astarion would never waste a moment of it.

#astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #spoilers #and that's how selune got herself a cult of 7000 vampiric spawn hoping for the same blessing #this is very fairytale romance #like mr. i'm not a fairytale prince is kind of acting like it here #or is he the saved princess?#up for debate #romance #very romantic #i think #fluff #very fluffy

1K notes · View notes