#That's the true power of the tadpole | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

messiahzzz · 14 days

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it is a conscious choice of mystra to initially present herself as this benevolent, courteous, and merciful being. a practiced and perfected approach she knows will compel gale to follow her demands with the least amount of resistance on his part. he already refused to follow her instructions when she sent elminster to request his death — his effective father figure, gale’s self-proclaimed hero, mentor, and the one who plucked him from obscurity in the first place — so another appeal is in order.

narrator: "elminster's visit weighs heavy on your mind. his face you did not expect to see again." narrator: "when you last saw him, you were in your prime. no orb, no tadpole. a mage of growing renown, all power, pride, and potential - beloved by the goddess of magic herself. narrator: "it's one thing to have fallen from such heights, but to have elminster himself now witness your humiliation is almost unbearable." gale: [his disappointment cuts deeper even than mystra's. he was your hero.] narrator: "while most know of elminster the legend, few know him as you have. he plucked you from obscurity. offered you his guidance. his faith. and most recently, his pity."

yet it is curious how quickly she changes her tune once gale doesn’t readily agree to her demand to return the crown of karsus to her, no questions asked. or even dares to impugn, or criticize her reasoning for leaving him to die.

gale: "a great ask indeed. you've given me much to think on - as you always did." mystra: "so be it. follow the needles of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

gale: "because i disobeyed you. you punished me for it." mystra: "how so? you think i should have cured you? erased the consequences of your actions?"

gale: "you break up with me, cut me off from the weave, leave me to die, and that's all you have to say? 'you look well'?" mystra: "i did not come here to suffer a mortal's admonitions. certainly not yours."

gale: "you were threatened. you realised you couldn't control me." mystra: "you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a saviour." nodecontext: sharper, almost a warning - don't entertain such thoughts, gale. you won't like where they lead.

gale: "i don't know. i need time to think." mystra: "so be it. follow the needle of your own wisdom. we shall see how truly it leads you."

particularly interesting to note is how she uses his surname as a tool to chastise and taunt him. only referring to him as "gale dekarios" in the context of him displeasing her, when he doesn't readily obey, whether he simply wavers (needing time to think) or outright declines her instructions. she uses the very name he had actively discarded and refuses to be referred to at this point in time. a deliberate reminder of his fallible humanity, of the flaws he tried to distance himself from. she knows this.

gale: "i won't let you down again. when the absolute is vanquished, i will surrender karsus' powers to you. you have my word." mystra: "thank you. may the weave's light guide your purpose, and it's wisdom guide your hand." mystra: "the future of magic rests on your shoulders, gale of waterdeep". mystra: "i promise you - it is a burden you are strong enough to bear."

gale: "i don't need your forgiveness. the crown of karsus will be mine, and the karsite weave will obey me." mystra: "crown yourself, gale dekarios, and you will learn what it is to carry such weight upon your shoulders." mystra: "if it does not crush you, i will." nodecontext: an icy edge entering her voice - a hint of a challenge gale will face if he pursues this course. nodecontext: here we glimpse the true, unimaginable power of mystra. she's still in control of herself, but her anger should be palpable.

i have already addressed the overall topic of mystra & gale's relationship in several posts i wrote some time ago [x] [x] [x]. however, since then we have received new snippets of information with patch 5 that shed more light on the progression of their relationship as a whole. this post is intended to be an update of sorts, containing a more comprehensive list, as well as lore excerpts for added context and proof. i will split this essay into several sections for coherency — buckle in, cause this is going to be a long one!

✧ mystra's history of manipulation ✧

one of the epilogue letters revealed that elminster first sought gale out when he was about 8 years old. which according to gale's canon age being 35 (as listed on his idle champions character sheet) means that their first meeting occurred around 1465 DR. although elminster's wording suggests that this may merely be an estimate on his side.

furthermore - in the ending where gale dies in the attempt at ascension, raphael has the following to say:

raphael: "you were the spark of ambition that rekindled gale's ambitions, after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest."

insinuating that mystra did make an active effort to keep gale in line, to temper his ambition, lest his thirst for more knowledge would eventually prove bothersome for her. keeping an eye on him at all times, keeping him close, placating him, and urging him to be patient.

what distinctly stood out to me is how this also aligns with some of azuth's quotes in the temptation of elminster, while he gives advice to a then-young sage of shadowdale.

we are her treasures, lad—we are what she holds most dear, the rocks she can cling to in the storms of wild art. she needs us to be strong, far stronger than most mortals ... tempered tools for her use. being bound to us by love and linked to us to preserve her very humanity, she finds it hard to be harsh to us—to do the tempering that must be done. she began the tempering of you long ago; you are her 'pet project', if you will. [...]

"you serve mystra differently. she watches you and learns the human side of magic in all it's hues from your experiences and the doings of those you meet—foes and friends alike. yet the time has come for you to change, and grow, to serve as she'll need you to, in the centuries ahead."

and yet again, there is a reoccurring pattern in her relationship with sammaster, another of her chosen, as well:

sammaster fell to his knees and wept upon mystra's feet. they ended up spending ten days together. this made him the first chosen of mystra since the seven sisters. when he asked for the reason that mystra had chosen him, she replied that she had foreseen that one of her chosen would be killed in battle, and he would be the replacement. he left this encounter feeling as though he and mystra were in love.

mystra is no stranger to fostering feelings of boundless devotion that weren't present before. observing her potential chosen, appearing before them, promising them power. luring them into service without the knowledge of what this may entail. where other gods may instill fear, mystra instills the notion of love. practicing seduction while mirroring her chosen's humanity. intentionally portraying herself as someone sympathetic and approachable. syncing their language, highlighting mutuality, making them feel favored and seen. mystra sees no need in the act of divine separation, a display of godlike grandeur — inimitable, menacing, larger than life, towering above her chosen. instead, her manifestation is purposefully unassuming. she meets them in the form of a woman in her early 30s, conventionally attractive, palpable, and appealing to the masses — a human figure. the very embodiment, the very ideal of traditional beauty an impressionable, young wizard may have.

gale: "i can't quite describe it, the need i sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence." gale: "no sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies."

gale: "in her likeness, i used to read a thousand stories. she was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes."

player: “what did mystra’s attention feel like?” gale: “love. [...] perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. it was most certainly love to him. [...]"

how we see her in the game is very likely the same form she chose to present to a young gale. beauty, wisdom, elegance. perceived perfection, yet humble in her divinity.

the mystra of now (1490s DR) retains some of the memories of all of her earlier selves, and the relatively young and inexperienced midnight is “in there,” but wholly subsumed. mystra could generate an avatar or seeming that might fool some mortals into thinking they were meeting midnight, but it would be an act. [x]

generating an avatar in the form of a mortal she subsumed. purporting mutuality. midnight was just another mortal added to mystra's long list of "human stock" — vessels intended to preserve her power. favored, chosen, and ultimately suppressed by the very essence of mystra herself. midnight is no equal piece of mystra, the deity, there is no conscious part of the mortal that remains. [x] the mystra that currently exists is a union of the original mystryl, as well as all the other reincarnations of her that melded into her being. fragments of their minds that linger in the weave, scraps of humanity that could perhaps aid in her knowledge and understanding to prevent further betrayals in the future.

mystra's approach has always been indirect, instead of being outright menacing and portentous. the fact that mystra isn't written like the other gods in the game doesn't mean she's more sympathetic to gale's struggles or more inclined to understand human nature. her concern will always be the preservation of her domain and her hold over the weave — to do as the gods do.

gale: "you're one to talk. how many innocents were you prepared to sacrifice if i detonated the orb?" mystra: "such eddies are unexceptional. souls arrive and depart your plane with every tide, in circumstances just and unjust." nodecontext: matter of fact, not interested in these kinds of specifics

ketheric thorm: "who decides what is right? the gods did not care for right and wrong when they dismantled my life piece by piece." ketheric thorm: "and when i tried to buy it back, it cost me everything - everything." ketheric thorm: "we are copper pieces in their belts. tokens to be traded for scraps."

it is often mentioned that mystra makes her attention known by brushing against her potential chosen. whispering to them, touching their skin, eliciting a tingling sensation. which is also how mystra chose to reveal herself to ariel manx (midnight) in 1353 DR, while she was 21 years of age.

gale mentions feeling a similar sensation if he chooses to destroy the summoning circle in balthazar's office at moonrise and thereby receives her blessing.

gale: "did you feel that?" gale: "if i wasn't surrounded on all sides by the darkness of the shadow-cursed lands, i'd think it was mystra herself brushing against my skin."

mystra isn't above using manipulations to get her way. once again evident in her instigating dornal and elué silverhand's union in the first place, as well as intentionally withholding information from dornal that she actively took possession of his wife, elué. to ensure that they would indeed produce her offspring — the seven sisters — her chosen and the vessels to house her power.

where elué had previously been reluctant to acknowledge dornal's advances, he found them suddenly returned with great fervor once mystra took possession of her body. [x]

"by the time elué was carrying her final child, she was in effect a lich - a crumbling shell kept alive only through mystra's power. dornal was shocked at her deterioration. he sought magical aid to cure his wife, and when he learned from the most powerful priest he could find that his wife was possessed by an intelligent force of great power, a sickened dornal tried to slay her. he struck off her head one moonlight night as they walked together in a wooded glade. mystra was forced to reveal herself. dornal was shattered by what he had done, and aghast at how he - and especially elué - had been used." [x]

dornal, who had been kept in the dark throughout, abandoned his lands and children after slaying his wife, traveling to the north, with the plan to seek his own death. he repeatedly tried to poison himself, yet mystra wouldn't allow him suicide and magically neutralized the lethal doses to keep him alive against his will. after his death in 797 DR, mystra turned him into another servant of hers: the watcher — one who wanders the realms, seeking out new potential chosen to this day.

which brings us to...

✧ mystra's foresight and her "death" ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight - she foresaw the time of troubles and her own passing at the hands of helm in 1358 DR for defying him and her attempt to converse with the overgod ao without the tablets of fate. the very reason why she sought out mortal vessels to house her power (the seven sisters) — to avoid disaster should another entity win control over her in the chaotic period of wildly fluctuating power struggles that was the time of troubles. this divine power slumbers within these individuals, which she can call upon.

in 1385 DR mystra (midnight) was struck down by cyric and shar, which brought upon the spellplague.

in 1479 DR mystra was located by elminster inside a cave in cormyr, guarding her mortal body. she survived cyric's assassination by inhabiting the body of a bear, while still able to contact her chosen. she returned to her full power in 1487 DR.

the important part, that i've often seen outright ignored or misinterpreted by fandom altogether, is that mystra wasn’t actually “dead” for over a hundred years. at least not in the way we perceive it. we can’t equate her death with our mortal understanding of it. her powers were diminished to an extreme and she was weakened, yet she was still able to communicate. it was in her power to contact her chosen and to guide them. evident by her calling for elminster through her telepathic link and directing him to recruit other chosen for her to restore her power.

the plot of baldur’s gate 3 takes place in 1492 DR. meaning gale's actual year of birth would be 1457 DR. while elminster likely sought him out around 1465 DR, when he was only 8 years old. however, i once again want to emphasize that “couldn’t have been more than 8 summers old” indicates that this may merely be an estimate on elminster's side. he could’ve possibly reached out to him even earlier than that, or perhaps later. gale was 22 year old at the time when mystra was found in her diminished state by elminster in 1479 DR.

✧ mystra's awareness✧

gale: “so, all it took to get mystra’s attention was to learn how to reforge an artifact that once destroyed her." gale: "it's obvious, when you stop to think about it."

even if you may personally be skeptical of elminster’s insertion into gale’s life at age 8 (as well as mystra's ability to contact her chosen during her death) to be enough evidence of mystra’s attention — she had to be aware of him for his talents alone since he was a mere child. there is no way around this.

player: "how could she possibly know we read a book? hasn't she got more important things to worry about?" gale: "the weave is a highly sensitive magical network threaded through all life on this plane. any shift in magical energy, no matter how small, is akin to a beacon, alerting mystra to its cause." gale: "opening a book like the annals of karsus was akin to us shooting a firework spelling 'look at us, mystra!' directly into the skies of elysium. she knows."

mystra IS the weave, as gale himself has stated several times. it is an extension of her being, threaded through all life. by touching the weave one is directly touching the goddess of magic herself. mystra is aware of any magic user, able to deepen this contact at her choosing.

shadowheart: "isn't it so, that every time you speak as you cast a spell, you're endeavouring to call upon mystra?" shadowheart: "i'm surprised she still listens to you." gale: "she has no choice - she's sworn to hear all magic users. even me." gale: "i'm sure she at least stuffs her fingers in her ears to muffle my invocations."

gale described himself as a child prodigy. a virtuoso that was able to manipulate and compose the weave at will from an early age.

gale: "magic is... my life. i've been in touch with the weave for as long as i can remember. there's nothing like it."

gale: "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it, much like a musician or a poet."

gale: "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself. the lady of mysteries. the goddess mystra." gale: "she revealed herself to me and she became my teacher. in time, she became my muse, and later, even my lover."

someone who was able to perform feats way beyond the skillset of his peers. he managed to wield the blackstaff itself, accidentally facing an irritated death slaad, and lived to tell the tale. he summoned and befriended tara, as well as the magma mephit, k'ha'ssji'trach'ash. we also know from elminster that he was able to cast fireball — a 3rd level spell — at age 8.

it is indisputable that mystra must’ve taken notice of the precocious young wizard during this time, even in her diminished state. much like she had once observed midnight. she began to whisper to him, drawing back the veils, revealing herself bit by bit, urging him that he was special — chosen.

gale: "he fancied himself much more than that. he fancied himself favoured above all others. [...] mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. the gossamer veils first, draped across the weave. the delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘chosen one’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely."

✧ final part: power imbalance & exerting control ✧

gale: "the weave is still here, all around us - inside of us too. as long as the goddess lives, magic is a tangible thing for those who know how to touch." gale: "i've studied magic for many years, and in as many ways i am still a more than capable wizard." gale: "it's just that i'm no longer able to perform those feats even arch wizards would marvel at." gale: " to have one hand on the pulse of divinity." gale: "you have to remember that the weave is a living thing, both the embodiment and the extension of mystra herself." gale: "she can give and she can take away. i'm afraid i'm still very much on her naughty list."

gale: "mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold." gale: "and yet, even now, more than i fear losing my own self and soul, i fear losing my command of her art."

player: "he sounds like a very talented individual." gale: "he was. even though it was in mystra’s affections that his true power lay."

even apart from their innate different forms of existence as a mere mortal and the literal goddess of magic, mystra is in full control of gale's power at all times, able to grant and withdraw her favors at will. claiming that such a power imbalance doesn’t exist, that it doesn’t apply to their respective relationship, that it might’ve been “healthy” at one point if gale was indeed of age at the time their relationship transitioned into a sexual nature is —pardon my french— fucking insane.

this stance disregards everything we know about the gods, about mystra’s involvement with other mortals and her chosen. it disregards the level of authority she wields over any magic user. it carelessly and naively disregards the implicit difference in power. mystra is the goddess of magic, his goddess. the very object of his worship and adoration since childhood. the goddess he devoted his life, his work, and his unyielding loyalty to. it is ultimately irrelevant at what exact point their relationship underwent its final transition from muse to lover. this discussion is redundant. mystra has been a constant presence since his early childhood. his worship of her began with the practice of his first spells, even if it wasn't conscious at the time. every practitioner of magic inevitably honors mystra, regardless of their faith in her. magic is his life, in the same way that mystra is pure magic. she is in total control of the tools he wields.

✧ summary ✧

mystra possesses a degree of foresight, already knowing about the time of troubles & her subsequent passing. this being her reason to seek out mortal vessels to secure her power.

mystra feels any shift in magical energy no matter how small, immediately alerting her. gale was able to cast a third-level spell at age 8.

mystra has a history of instilling feelings of love that weren't present before and using her chosen/other mortals for her own means. (elminster, khelben, sammaster, the seven daughters, ariel manx etc.)

mystra's manifestation is a conscious choice. midnight has been wholly subsumed by her.

mystra wasn’t actually “dead” in 1479 DR, but merely diminished. she was inhabiting the body of a bear and was still able to communicate with her chosen. she directed elminster to recruit other chosen to restore her power.

elminster sought gale out around 1465 DR when he was about 8 years old, as stated in the epilogue letter.

mystra first functioned as gale’s mentor, then his muse, and later his lover.

gale’s relationship with her was indeed of a sexual nature, he has explicitly stated so several times. their intimacy wasn't restricted to incorporeal interactions either, even though they were preferred.

during the ending where gale fails to ascend raphael states during the credits that tav has “rekindled gale’s ambitions after mystra had so cleverly put them to rest”.

azuth describes mystra's chosen as "tempered tools for her use". being bound to them by love and linked to them to preserve her very humanity.

mystra's intention to shape gale into yet another loyal, devoted asset to her portfolio has been there from the very moment she chose to reveal herself, to instruct elminster to seek him out. it was a conscious decision to directly insert herself into gale’s life, sowing his conviction that he was favored above all others. singling him out among his peers, isolating him with subtle promises of his greatness, his uniqueness, and all he could yet accomplish to be under her guidance. offering him her teachings, her inspiration, and eventually her love. yet all the while tempering his perceived greed and thirst to reach for even greater heights, unless it acted in her favor. keeping him close — lest his growing ambitions should ever prove to be an outright challenge to her rule.

the groundwork has been carefully laid from the very beginning.

gale: “goodnight. and thank you for your patient understanding. [...] try not to think too poorly of me. a cat can look at a king. a wizard can look at a goddess.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #mystra #grooming tw #abuse tw #long post #writing this genuinely burned me out ngl #so glad to finally unleash it though since it has been sitting in my drafts for weeks

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thedomesticanthropologist · 6 months

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I present to you: at no point in the game is Astarion actually ready for a romantic relationship

Tav is the first person he drank from

The first person he has consensual sex with after 200 years

And he says to them: no one is like you. You're YOU

He genuinely believes that Tav is the *only* person who would be this way, even if it isn't true. He does fall in love with you, he does want you, but I present to you the idea that if things hadn't gone down EXACTLY as they had, Astarion NEVER would have initiated a partnership/romantic relationship for YEARS after escaping Cazador for good.

The man is coded for survival, for self-preservation, and is inherently selfish by nature. It is only because Tav gives selflessly and determinedly reinforces wanting to be with him that he caves in and allows it, but if you try to leave he's thrilled. This is for the best he says, you don't deserve this facade from me he says.

"I don't know how to be with someone even if I want to. I want this to be real but I don't know what real is. I need to not have sex right now"

In act 2, if you break up with him, he agrees with you. He thinks it's the right thing for you because hes not ready. He won't say this unless you initiate a break up but how could he possibly let go of the best thing that's happened to him in his entire undead life? He wouldn't toss out the treasure of you even if he didn't feel ready.

It really does take a patient, calm, supportive Tav to get him in the end, and he DOES want you, I'm not arguing that

I'm arguing that that man is not ready for a committed relationship, doesn't know what a healthy relationship looks like, and in an ideal situation if he thought he had time and options in his life and if he felt safe he would have focused 100% on himself first for a VERY long time.

The tadpoles, the adventure, the pressures of the battles, the fighting the revenge the ascension and the ritual he has to fight or succumb to the fact that the sunlight is gonna nerf him again- all of this contributes to the perfect scene where Tav gets him right "out the gate", first by being a mark and a target and then by simply *not breaking it off with him*

And yes he's in love to the best of his ability to know what love is at this point

And yes he wants you very much

But the man is going through the biggest whiplash of his life and I can say with confidence that he's not... *Ready*. And after all is said and done, Tav will have to continue to be patient with many things with him. There are still a lot of hurdles. He may be with them for a long time before he wakes up one day and realizes, really really realizes, that he's ready.

The power dynamics are off, they're imbalanced. How could he say no to a perfect mark that gives him everything ? Blood, sex, waits when sex is off the table, never breaks up with him never leaves no matter how he rails against them? He can't. He won't, and he doesn't want to, but that doesnt make him emotionally ready for what a genuine relationship is.

He has to learn it, with you, over time, but I don't think he'd jump into learning that and going for it and seeing it as worth it if the situation were in any way different

Without the perfect storm of events, I don't see Astarion jumping into "commited relationship" to be clear, I'm not saying that he isn't capable of feelings or doesn't want tav it's just

It doesn't *seem* to match his character or his struggles to me. For a man that is completely self serving, he accidentally catches feels and then doesn't have the strength to cut you loose even though his act 2 confession is practically him asking you to leave him. If you take the Araj route in particular, he VERY plainly lays his shitty behaviour on the table as if daring you to punish him for it... Or maybe just expecting.

In his spontaneous scene it's softer, it's I love you but I don't know how to do this. And still if you say "I don't think you're ready to be in a relationship" he immediately agrees. In act 3, if you've stuck to him the whole time like glue, he never wants to let you go. Again, I think this level of connection is impossibly rare and everything had to happen as it did to get you there, but the power balance is off still. He says partner, equal, and he wants that. And he WILL get there

But he not only has to struggle with his past, his issues, his trauma, he has to struggle with the power imabalance that you're his Savior. YOU defeated Cazador. YOU protected him in camp and didn't stake him on sight. YOU fed him from thinking creatures for the first time. YOU are one of "a very few select people" who have had sex with him and not been slaughtered immediately afterwards.

You're everything to him

And by the end of the game you already see him trying to shift that power imabalance because HE SEES IT. If you say you'll protect him he WINCES and disagrees, he doesn't want that. He doesn't want to be below you, but he sees himself that way anyway. And to me, that's the sign that he wasn't ready, he still isn't ready,

But he will be, one day. And I think that makes it a better written romance than thousands I've read, because it's not perfect. There's grey areas. There's things that can make you uncomfortable. There's parts of it that aren't healthy and won't be for a while. Who knows how long until he feels like he's your equal? Until he feels like this relationship is something he ever would have chosen if things were different?

But he does choose you. He does. He wants you. He'd just never have gotten the chance to if it hadn't been "right place right time" imho

#its giving star crossed lovers #its giving grey area #its giving long term trauma #its giving good fucking writing #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion romance

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pursuitseternal · 2 months

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“Don’t hold your breath:” hot spring smut with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night:”

Astarion x Reader | E | 2K of underwater oral

🎨 By @snowfolly

Summary: The Mountain Pass is cold at night, you’ve found. And your newly taken Vampire lover has left for the night. But maybe… not to be alone… A note from him to meet him in secret, the end of your search, a bubbling, steaming mountain hot spring with more hidden than rocks beneath its water.

CW: Fem oral receiving, Vampires don’t NEED to breathe 😉, jealous!Tav, reassuring Astarion, wet cat hair Astarion

Ao3 link |ao3 series link |Masterlist

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You… can’t remember if you’ve ever seen a hot spring. Most things from your life before this tadpole seem hazy now. Well, frankly most things that happened before you took Astarion as your sometimes-lover are fuzzy. But given the winds whipping around the Mountain Pass as the sun setts and the heat of day starts to seep from the world, a hot spring sounds like just the solution. That merchant just up the Pass said you couldn’t miss it, that making camp close by was a wise idea since mountain nights are cold.

Really cold.

At least that part is true. Karlach was fine of course, warm and bubbly as she had gone to find enough firewood for an army. Although, given how big you all needed to make the fire to keep the feeling in your toes, you suspect it’ll last you the night. Gale cast some spell, trying his best to keep out the cool winds and lock in the heat from the fire, but not even magic could prevent the power and force of nature.

Yep, that was Halsin’s contribution before he shifted into a bear to sleep in the warm comfort of fat and fur.

But you don’t worry about any of them… your undead, eternally corpse-cold lover, however…. He had disappeared to hunt and hadn’t returned.

If he had a heart, he wouldn’t do this to you, at least you hoped. If he had a heart, or one that beat at least faster and kept his flesh warm, you wouldn’t feel so much worry gnawing in your gut. But no, his cold body would be shivering by now, unable to warm up, and you hope being undead means he will survive.

As the night grows more frigid with each breeze, you peek into his tent one more time, just to see if he has snuck back like the stealthy, roguish ass he is.

Sure enough, that fucker… he’s left you a note. Or he’s left someone a note, your heart leaps into your throat hoping that it’s for you… though he has been making such sharp and sultry banter with your Cleric lately… your gut squeezes tight with jealousy. Fingers snatch the note from his mess of a bed.

Just a single scrawled line… directions to head north and dip yourself in…. Darling.

You scowl, knowing full well it’s a term he throws around as freely as his smirks. The same words and smiles and raised brows that surely make your Cleric’s heart flutter too in that hot and suffocating way you feel when it’s turned so fully on you.

You take the note, after all, finders keepers, you smirk. That’ll keep him all to yourself, you chuckle inwardly. As you sneak from his mess of a tent, you can’t help but trace your fingers over that tight, flourishing script of his, the paper obviously torn from one of his many books.

Cute, you think to yourself, pulling your jacket around your shoulders tighter as you head northward up the trail. Aside from the cold, it’s not unlike your other trysts… a quiet evening, a moonlit path, and your heart rapping out of your chest to see him. Already you feel your stomach fluttering your cheek blushing hot despite the chill. You want this, smiling he wants it too.

You assume, the nagging thought slices your desire. You want to think those extra longing glances are for you… those flirtatious quips made for the others just to keep his appearances as a rake, even as he has begun to trust you more with his past.

But… the doubt still nags at you. The images of how your Cleric stares after him in his wake around camp usually. You don’t know if it’s lust or suspicion. Or both.

Before you can let your excitement sour too much, your feet almost stumble into water. The hiss, the steam, you nearly fell face first into the hot spring. This was it, you take in the scene with a hint of awe and a lot of excitement. “Well,” you laugh to yourself, “he did say dip in…” Peeling off your jacket, you hurry to strip off everything. Your skin prickles in the breezes, the wind softer where the spring is sheltered and warmer from the steam. His name is sweet on your tongue as you call for him, not waiting for a response as you let the bubbling, cloudy water submerge your body.

You hear nothing as you turn around the large body of water. It’s not deep, rocks lying beneath the surface at good heights to sit on and still savor the waters. Deep breathes in your lungs, eyes fluttering shut as you take a seat on the closest one, you wait.

But you swallow that slice of jealousy… what if he’s somewhere else with… someone else? What if he’s hiding, unready silent in the brush because you aren’t the conquest he was hoping to lure to this locale? What if…

Hands grip the backs of your calves, nails digging into your skin beneath the cloudy, fizzing water.

Invisible.

Unseen

But the touch is colder than the waters.

That touch pries you apart, pushing you back against the bank of the spring, and splitting your folds open. The noises you make are short and scared, the rush of adrenaline overpowering you as your reach for whatever is moving you under the water.

Fear lances through you, until your hands grip into familiar if wet locks, and a cool soft pad of a tongue starts to sweep up your thigh.

Astarion.

Your spasms of dread turn to disbelieving and nervous laughter. Your eyes still frozen wide as you try to watch him lick higher to your folds beneath the water. But you see nothing beneath the bubbling surface.

Arms wrap so firmly around your ass, pulling you just to the edge of the rock. Gritting your teeth together, you can’t fight the way your hips buck against his face, especially not with both his arms keeping you pinned in place, nose rubbing your hardened clit, tongue diving and swirling the circumference of your channel. That muscular tip strokes back and forth over that spot he loves to touch, that hot bundle of nerves just inside you. The sight of his head and curls is lost to your blurring vision, all is steam and bubbles and churning water as he consumes your own slick before it even reaches your thighs.

Heart racing, blood pounding in your arteries, you can’t catch your breath as you come apart so quickly, so readily on his mouth. But even as your thighs clench over his shoulders, his arms keep you trapped and his tongue keeps devouring you under that bubbly water.

Tongue sweeps to your clit, lips sucking and circling over that aching nub. Fangs catch briefly on your skin, a nick here and there, but the pain hardly slices through your bliss as he drives you even faster for a second crashing wave of pleasure. Your head lolls on the mossy bank, your legs shaking down the scars of his back, and your fingers practically pull his perfect hair from its roots. The stars in the sky are nothing compared to the ones that begin to blind you again, your climax approaching at breakneck speed. As your body wracks with bliss, his arm splashes away from your backside, only to dive his long, dancing fingers deeper and fuller into your cunt.

A scream tears from your throat, making the poor wildlife around you scatter in the underbrush. The walls of your core suck his touch in deeper, or force it out, you can’t tell, not with the way your body is practically boiling itself. You can’t catch your wind, the edges of your sight growing darker, your world starting to spin like when he sips just a bit too much from your body…..

And that’s when your eyes fly open, the realization hitting you in the same moment, same breath as you torque and buck in one more burst of heat and wet and spasms.

He hasn’t taken a breath for….

You force your body back in control, gripping him by his hair, his ears and jerking him towards the surface.

He breaks through the water like some mythical being, skin so white in the moonlight, smirk so arrogant and self-content…. “Hello,” he pants, catching lungs full of mountain air once more, “…darling,” he finally adds as those lust-dark eyes scan over your dripping body. His damp hair drips and droops adorably over his forehead, almost over his eyes. He’d be pathetic if those eyes underneath didn’t proclaim pride in how he had just eaten you right up.

Suddenly that hesitation as he looks you up and down, devouring you with his eyes in that silence… it makes that pang of jealousy return. “Not surprised to see me?” you prod just a bit, sweeping your arms in the waters, trying to slide down the pool as he begins to inch closer.

“Aren’t you surprised to see me?” he purrs, sweeping his now wet and unruly locks out of his eyes with both hands. That pale face practically glimmers with drops of water and radiates with unbridled arrogance as he licks his lips. “That was the effect I was going for this evening with you, my little treat. So tasty too…”

“I could have been anyone…” you huff just a bit. Rolling your eyes, you try not to squeak as he descends on you, arms bracing you back against the bank of the pool, body pushing you against the rocks and wall again. “I could be some poor unsuspecting female that happened to find your cute little note.”

“You're not just anyone, you know…. And besides, I would know the taste of you and you alone anywhere…” he licks his lips, almost smacking them like the predator he is, cleaning his maw.

“You mean…” your eyes dart to the bushes, as if looking to see if anyone else is hiding.

He merely shoves that leering smirk between you and the middle distance. “Who else do you think I would ask back here for a bite, darling?” He’s intrigued and concerned, entertained and worried in one swirling tone.

“It’s silly…” you decide to laugh it off, nevermind how he still closes in on you. Cool hands hold you, sweeping up your arm. One palm rests on your cheek, something unusually warm about his touch, unusually reassuring without a single snide remark.

“Is it?” he cocks his head, eyes searching yours.

“Well….” you tilt your head, looking down at the swirling, dancing steam over the spring.

“Tut tut,” he lifts your head back up to meet his gaze, “eyes here, my darling. And I’ll tell you just who has my interest…”

“Oh,” you feel tears sting, until he smiles at you with pure adoration.

“You see, there’s this female, headstrong and defiant and willful…” His thumb sweeps over your lip, his smile soft enough to let his fangs peek out. “…she has a habit of picking up strays, and making sure they are cared for…” His fingers trace over the ever-darkening set of fang-scars that form on your neck. “She makes sure they’re bellies are full and their every need is sated…”

That thick, hard, veiny length of his prods into your belly as he pulls you flush against his front.

“I’m quite fond of her every trait, internal and external,” he purrs into your ear, hands wandering over your body, your sides tickled by touch, breasts teased and pulled with just the right amount of force to make you gasp and smile. “And besides, my first thinking blood, she tastes more divine than anything I doubt I would find in this realm.”

You can’t wait for his silken voice to shut up, so you opt to stop all those nice words with your own actions for once. Arms wrap so tight around his neck, you pull those conceited, praising lips against your own.

“Tell me you like me…” you pant between kisses. His lips begin that addictive working over yours, the kind that steals your air and makes you swept off your feet and usually on your back for him.

“You know I do, my little treat,” he rasps back, a little roll of his hips against your belly as he laughs, “but don’t hold your breath for more of an explanation.”

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scuttlingcrab · 14 days

Text

Fiendish Rewards

Summary: Raphael appears at Withers' party, hoping to finally collect the Crown of Karsus from Tav. However, an unexpected turn of events causes Raphael to re-think his plans.

Notes: Featuring growing tensions and light angst. I always wondered what would happen when Raphael wore the Crown for the first time. This might be a wee bit too long but I initially intended this to be another submission for @dmagedgoods Raphael romance collection.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via raphael-ancunin)

Raphael knew he was intruding. He had no business attending Withers' party, yet he arrived fashionably late all the same. He would never show his face, grace the companions with his presence, merely to exchange pleasantries. As tempting as their tadpole-free souls were, the simple minded mortals had no meaning to him now that the Elder Brain was defeated. That evening Raphael’s only desire was to collect the Crown of Karsus. And perhaps, converse with that little mouse, if time allowed.

Thus, the Devil did what he knew best: lurked from the shadows of the wings and listened for his cue.

Raphael had abided for over a millennium after he lost the Crown to Mephistopheles, lashing out with such violent anger in the first century that he nearly eradicated an entire plane. That initial taste of defeat never left his memory; the bitterness, that rotting feeling he felt deep within his core still haunted him. It was his first introduction to failure and the last.

He eventually learned how to forge that frothing hatred for his father, his revulsion at the cursed cards he had been dealt with, into a far more superior weapon: knowledge, his greatest strength. Raphael researched, manipulated, and opened up the recesses of his mind to devour the ins-and-outs of the Hells. He painstakingly plotted, weaving his schemes into the very fabric of fate itself, planting the seeds of prosperity for what he hoped would eventually gain him a win.

Despite all Raphael had endured since the collapse of Netheril, the last 6 months had been the most excruciating. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. There was no longer an Archdevil in his path, but a mere mortal. His hunger for power grew rampant as he watched Tav continue to elude him, to harbour the final piece of his victory as she tried to reclaim what was left of her old life. That selfish creature.

To Tav’s credit, she had been quite remarkable on the battlefield, showcasing her strength and resolve as she smited enemies and climbed through the carnage to her destiny. She left a sea of corpses in her wake, the mortal rubble alone was unlike anything Raphael had ever seen. Out of all the calamities he had been fortunate enough to craft and witness, being a spectator during the fight against the Netherbrain would forever be a highlight.

When the Crown fell into the River Chionthar, Raphael eagerly watched as Tav spent weeks fishing it out, taking her precious time as she retrieved each broken piece of his future. He restlessly stormed the halls of his domain, cursing the woman for attempting such an arduous task alone. He could have aided her, sent in Korrilla as a last resort, but he refused. He would not give Tav the satisfaction, she would have to work just a little more to complete her end of the bargain. Besides, there was something endearing about watching Tav work so diligently, the determination in those eyes reminded Raphael of himself.

The little mouse was Raphael’s greatest investment and he’d be damned if she failed him now, or if he let his sudden affinity for her overtake his true purpose. Raphael’s ambitions for the Crown had somehow intertwined with his infatuation for the woman, and he was just as much to blame.

He had let this farce go on for long enough. Raphael would not stoop so low in his final moments before he rose to glory. Once Tav crowned him, these foolish emotions would cease and he would continue with his grand plan. He was a Devil and he would not let these cursed mortal emotions falter his intentions any longer; he would never allow anything, anyone, to destroy his work. Raphael’s blood, sweat, and tears would not be in vain.

Cheering suddenly came from the camp as Tav and her companions raised their chalices in celebration. Withers' speech had finally ended, much to Raphael’s delight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve listened to the monotonous dribble. The monologue was indeed rousing, but Raphael could’ve done better, if given the opportunity.

One by one, the group of heroes slowly disbanded, until only Tav remained. She made her way around the camp, stopping by each empty tent. It was as if the little mouse was paying her respects, bidding farewell to the ghosts of her past.

When Tav was done she wandered to the lakefront and sat down on a mossy rock, staring into the sparkling evening sky. The light in her own eyes vanished, leaving a dark cloud looming above her.

Raphael took that as his signal. He quietly removed himself from the cover of the treeline and began his entrance, approaching Tav with a swagger.

“If it isn’t the hero of Baldur’s Gate. My, how far we’ve come! It feels like only yesterday you fell from the skies, tadpole and all, and began your little adventure; slowly scurrying your way to triumph.”

Tav smiled at the sound of Raphael’s voice, turning to greet him. They locked eyes, her expression brightening. That look pierced through Raphael’s defences with such ease, a slight chill crawling up from the base of his spine. He stopped in his tracks, quickly recovering by placing a hand on his hip. It had been too long since they were alone, when he had last gazed into those cursed eyes. Careful now.

“Raphael, always the poet.”

“The little mouse is no longer, but now a ferocious lion. Congratulations are in order.”

Raphael gifted Tav with his most flourishing bow, hoping the gesture would distract from his earlier misstep.

“Now do tell, how does it feel to be the victor? To have saved the world? Is it as the bards have sung?” Raphael rose, taking another step towards Tav.

Tav merely shrugged, her lips quickly returning to a frown.

“Dunno.”

“I would have thought a hero to be more eloquent.”

“I'm still waiting for that ‘ah-ha!’ moment, but if we’re being honest tonight, I’m not really sure what it means to be a hero.”

“You will come to understand eventually. It’s the very nature of your existence.”

Tav remained silent, pulling her eyes away from Raphael. She stared down at her hands, studying her scarred palms.

“May I?” Raphael inquired, gesturing towards the available space on the rock.

Tav nodded and Raphael sat himself beside her, intentionally leaving a minimal amount of space between them.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“There it is,” Tav said, through a faint laugh, “You know, I was expecting you to come sooner.”

“I’ve often found the best persuasions are the ones that aren't forced.”

Tav looked up at Raphael, her eyes moving over every inch of his guise, stopping briefly near his lips. He was close now, so close. To the Crown. To his objectives. And to that damned woman.

“May I see the Crown, please?”

Tav smiled, moving towards Raphael. For a split second, Raphael expected a kiss. It was only natural for mortals to attempt such a distraction in times of distress. Infuriating as it was, he wouldn’t have been opposed to such a notion. Tav instead reached down for her backpack lying in the sand, placing it on her lap.

She pulled open the straps and yanked out the Crown, handling it as if it was but a petty trinket. Raphael suppressed a sigh, he would not let the significance of this moment be soiled due to the mortal’s lack of formality.

“I managed to reforge it, to the best of my abilities, thanks to the Annals of Karsus. Though I haven't tried it on yet to see if it worked.”

“A wise choice.”

Tav held the Crown out towards Raphael, but he raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown floated out of Tav’s grasp, slowly moving towards him. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. It glistened under the moonlight, calling to him. Soon. Very soon. He let the Crown hover, spinning delicately, for a few more seconds.

“Do you need me to remind you of our terms? The deal was that you are to crown me. I would’ve come to you long ago if I could simply put it on myself.”

“Gods. Really, Raphael?”

“Truly.” Raphael donned his notorious smirk in response.

“Fine, are we to do this here then?”

“I couldn't think of a more fitting location.”

Raphael rose, walking towards the middle of the lakefront. He snapped his fingers, and a luscious red silk pillow appeared. He shifted it slightly in the sand and bent a knee, preparing himself for the crowning.

“Come, it is time.”

Tav stood intending to grab the Crown, but before she could reach it, Raphael beckoned it towards him. Tav quickly followed, positioning herself above Raphael. He raised his head to gaze at the magnificent sight in front of him. The moonlight framed Tav perfectly, she was silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing. The Crown and the little mouse, side-by-side, as it was always destined to be.

Raphael took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He absorbed the scents and sounds around him; earthy tones, a hint of wetness, mixed with the fresh woodland air. Faint chirping from various insects called out to him, the leaves rustled slightly against the warm summer wind. His heartbeat intensified, growing more rapid, adding an extra drum beat to the night’s symphony.

“Let’s get on with it then.” Tav spoke.

Raphael opened his eyes and watched Tav grab the Crown, lowering it on top of his head.

When the Crown touched his forehead, it reformed itself to accommodate his size, shrinking to provide a snugger fit. It hissed into place and then in an instant, everything changed.

Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, confusion; every possible emotion tore through his very being. He was ripped in two, three, four… millions of tiny little pieces. His head throbbed with information, so many secrets, so much… he saw and felt everything, what could’ve been, what might come to pass… it was too much. Too much! Too fast!

He fell forwards, his hands digging, ripping through sand. He was alone, always alone, darkness surrounded him. No. There was light, light flooded in from the top of his skull, projecting into every possible direction. He was the light. He was the dark. He was all-encompassing.

Raphael screamed, his voice echoing into the abyss around him. He had never read about such a reaction, in all his years of researching, how could he have missed… could it be because… NO. He will tame this. He will persist. He will…

The sand beneath Raphael turned to liquid as the newfound power continued to surge through his limbs, burning his veins. He tore at his own flesh and bones to rid himself of the agony, but it wouldn’t come to an end.

“Raphael!” He heard a voice shout, such a familiar tune. But who? He couldn’t quite place it.

Raphael erupted, his devilish wings tearing through the skin in his back. There were flames all around him, growing hotter, thicker. His chest melted, his ears ached from the thunderous explosions. Whispers, whispers everywhere. He heard so many, and the cries, the screams. Would they never cease?

Something tore at his head, pulling the Crown away from him. The Crown. NO! He cannot lose it again. Raphael raised his hands attempting to fight back, but he was grasping at nothing. It was over as fast as it had begun. There was now silence.

Raphael’s vision cleared. He was on his back, looking up at the stars. Tav stood over him, holding the Crown in her hands. She eyed him with concern, tears flooding down her cheeks. He raised his own hands, his claws trembling. Raphael tried to think but his mind was vacant, every thought achingly bounced back. His skin burned, bones ached. There were deep lacerations all over his body, his own hands were covered in blood. He gasped, looking at Tav’s body but found no abrasions. He let out a disgruntled sigh. If he had harmed her in his rage, in those brief seconds of failure… would he ever forgive himself?

Tav threw the Crown aside and helped Raphael to his feet. His eyes followed the artefact as it landed on top of the sand, taunting him still. How?

As if reading Raphael’s mind, Withers' voice cut through the silence as he appeared before them.

“Thou hast succeeded but are not yet ready. Take care that thou are not too hasty, thine pursuits will lead to plights.” There was a long pause as Withers continued staring at Raphael, looking straight through him. He met Withers’ expressionless gaze, waiting for him to continue. “The pattern has been woven and all circumstances interlaced are as fate decided.”

Raphael never imagined the consequences of his premature investiture. He was always going to reforge the Crown himself, in his own image. How could he possibly trust a mortal to handle such a relic successfully? But in the heat of the moment, and in the fine print of the very deal he crafted, he had opened himself up to carelessness, becoming the very thing he despised.

His eyes darted to Tav, searching the woman for any excuse against his actions but he could only look at her with veneration. He would not blame her for everything. His vanity, eagerness… his obsession for the Crown and that cursed woman nearly brought him to his untimely demise. Let this be a lesson to Raphael to heed his own warnings. The Devil would need to cool his heels in preparation for the battles looming ahead.

Raphael turned to face Withers, but the curious being had vanished. Instead he hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tav.

She stood next to him, her body trembling. Tav's eyes were fixed on Raphael, still full of worry but there was something else present, another emotion he thought he’d never see from a mortal again.

Tav’s expression sent a sudden stabbing pain through his chest as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. There was another mortal who had once looked at him with the same kindness and understanding. He had buried it deep within his subconscious, but it was rising back to the surface, like a blooming flower. He would NOT allow himself anymore turmoil this evening.

“I owe you my thanks.” Raphael whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“Raphael, I don’t understand, you were nea…”

“If you value your life, you will hold your tongue. There will be no talk of this moment again. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Tav’s eyes widened at his sudden change of tone, but she nodded nonetheless.

“I must return to my House of Hope. For healing and reflection. There is work yet to be done, as you have borne witness to this evening.” Raphael snapped his fingers, a raging portal materialised behind him. “You may join me, if you so wish.”

Raphael extended his arm, welcoming her acceptance.

“Would you consider our deal completed then?” Tav asked, apprehensively.

“You have upheld your end of the agreement, exceptionally well, might I add, bar this evening's hiccup. Now please, let me show you my appreciation.”

A dash of colour appeared on Tav’s cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears. She grabbed her backpack, placing the Crown inside. She swiftly reached for Raphael’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Raphael nodded in acknowledgment and led Tav through the portal.

Indeed, their deal was complete, but Raphael wasn’t done with Tav yet. She would continue to prove a valuable ally and more in the months to come.

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twi-liight · 8 months

Note

Hello gorgeous! I love the way you write Astarion :) could I please request a fic where the reader (female or non-binary your choice!) has a nightmare and comes to our favorite vampire for comfort? Love you work, I totally understand if this doesn’t spark inspiration!

Phantom Heartache ❣

Brave, sad Alfira. All she yearned for was to carry Lihala's legacy to Baldur's Gate, but thanks to the Dark Urge, the furthest she went was to Tav's camp. That was all she could ever amount to. Slay a thousand enemies. Be pierced by a million blades. Nothing ever compares to the pain of her loss at their hands. ❥ DarkUrge!Tav spoilers for Act 1. ❥ Astarion/Tav. ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav. ❥ Tav is the nickname for the oc/reader insert. Their real name is up to you!

At the crest of their slumber, when inky tendrils drag them gently into the arms of deep sleep, Tav comes home to her.

Dreams cannot fool them easily. Too many have come and gone with promises of power and blood for them to dismiss them as simple yearnings of the mind when they are fast asleep. They know, on a shallow, muted level that this is a dream, that this isn't reality. That none of this is real and it doesn't mean anything.

But there Alfira stands, nothing like the day she left this world. Her purple locks drift in the waters around them. Despite the depths of the ocean, sunlight pierces through the darkness and glitters on her.

"Alfira," they croak out. They speak her name into existence and their heart splits in two.

"Tav," Alfira whispers. Her brows furrow the same way she did whenever she thought too hard. Her lips pucker and set like she's recited these words too many times before. "You have to know something. Something important. I-... Please, just listen."

When they reach out for her, she takes their hands. They wander the ocean depths with no true purpose or destination. It hurts so much. The guilt could crush them before the inevitable dooms along the horizon. It takes all of their strength to say, "I'm so sorry, Alfira."

She shakes her head. Sunbeams catch tears welling up in her ocher eyes. "I know you are. I know you." Alfira clasps their hands tight, warm and comforting, filled with assurance. "You've done so much for us. Thank you, Tav."

Silence overwhelms Tav at that moment, crushing their neck in one fell swoop. They can't breathe. It hurts, and they can't breathe.

"I'm sorry, too. For all the love you gave me that I can't repay, I'm sorry." Alfira whispers, her voice breaking in too many places. The warmth from her hands disappears, and they realize she's letting them go.

"Tav," she says one last time, their last image of her reaching for them as the distance grows wider and wider.

Tav. Tav. Tav. Tav. Tav. Tav. Tav!

"Tav!"

Astarion breaks the connection. Suddenly and all at once, they've surfaced from the waters back to reality, where air is shoveled into their drowned lungs.

All at once, faces and voices. They heave, doubling over as they push themselves upright. Nausea hits them fast and hard but they don't care. Shadowheart, Gale, Karlach, Lae'zel, Wyll - a few paces behind them, Jaheira and Halsin gaze down at her with a somber expression. Closest to them, with his hands closed around their inner elbow is Astarion.

"Tav," he says, softer this time.

Tav, Alfira chokes out. Tav. I'm so sorry.

No. "No." No, no, no, sorry for what? Come back, Alfira. What are you apologizing for, I was the one who-

The vision tightens around their skull like molten iron. The tadpole squirms, receding from the shameful memory of Alfira's corpse, defiled and destroyed. In her eyes, they see themselves.

They were her friend. And they let her die screaming and alone.

"Away," Tav breathes out. It's so weak that it's just a whittled breath, but the strength behind them gives pause to everyone around.

Astarion's hands flinch back, but by then it's too late. It's too much. Their tadpole activates a defense mechanism and power crumbles from the depths of their mind. They struggle away from their companions, roaring out, "I commanded you!"

Waves of ilithid energy break through their portcullis - Karlach audibly yelps in pain, struggling against the barrage of mental energy. "Tav-- damn it, we're trying to--" Wyll's hand lashes out to steady her, only to recede as it flies back to clutch his head in pain. "-- Help you!"

"Gale!" Shadowheart cries, nearly buckling to the floor as the full weight of Tav's prowess pours into her mind, threatening to snap it in two. "Can you-- is there a--"

They lock eyes with Gale, who shoots them a pleading look. "Enough," he begs, holding up his shaky hands as a sign of surrender. "Tav, enough. It's alright."

"It's not," they whisper. It's hard to speak when their breaths are too fast, too raggedy, too stuttered to be anything but a cornered animal floundering for air. They don't notice it. They choke on lungfuls of breaths as they wrap their arms around their waist.

"It's not," they repeat again. Something shifts in the air. Power. Arcane power snapping to Gale's fingertips. Their tadpole twists with alarm. He's trying to hurt you. He doesn't want to understand. None of them understand, they're just using you.

Gale points his finger out, aiming for something behind them.

Enraged, they reach deep into the recesses of their mind for the reservoir of power. To sink their fingertips deep in it feels so alien but familiar. Like pushing their hands into a pool of thick blood, warm and fresh.

Wait. No. No, this is not the tadpole's power. This is...

Kill them, Tav. Before they hurt you. Before you hurt them.

Like what you did to me, Alfira whispers in their ear.

Something inside them breaks into two. It shatters into pieces and pulls out everything they have been hiding; the misery, the weight, the guilt, the howling wail that rings in the air as they crumble in on themselves. Hot, wet tears run down their cheeks, and it's too much.

They can't bear it. It's too much.

"Hey hey hey hey, shh shh shh," Astarion's hands cup around their ears. The remnants of Gale's magic outline him in a misty purple. When had he gotten to them so fast? They don't know. They don't understand. "Look at me, sweetheart."

They can't. Everyone around them is looking at them like they're a stranger. Shadowheart's shell-shocked expression sends a ringing ache down their spine; she is looking at them with pity and concern and fear.

"Let them breathe," Jaheira commands. When no one moves, her voice comes out sharper. "Go! Now. Ready yourselves for a long rest and give them space. You will only make it worse for them. Astarion-"

"I can handle this," Astarion murmurs. Jaheira nods, leading the companions away from the bedrolls.

"Please," Astarion pleads, rubbing circles into their cheeks with his thumbs. "Look at me. Why the tears? You know I hate tears. It is unbecoming of you to tarnish your otherwise candid expression with that face. You go from beautiful to an ugly little duck in less than a second."

"I can't," they choke out. Sobs push in between breaths and words, and they shake their head, suddenly just as afraid as the rest of them.

"You can," he murmurs. "What are you so afraid of, darling? It's just me."

It is just Astarion.

Tentatively, they lift their eyes. When they gaze into him, they find no fear or judgment. There is no anger, either, despite what they had just done and what they were going to do. His stare is forlorn and quiet. His noble brow furrows slightly, contemplative, trying to find something in their eyes.

"There you are," he says, his voice so gentle it could have been a trick of the wind. "Tav of mine."

An aching, dull pain spreads across their chest, and their body seems to understand that the only way to relieve it is to cry. Their shoulders shake, and their lungs are sore, but it doesn't stop the biting sobs from pushing out.

"Astarion," Tav begs, hands catching his wrists and holding onto them tightly. "I hurt her, I-- hah-- hurt, Alfira-"

"I know," Astarion croons.

"I killed her."

"I know."

"She was my friend and I--"

"And you betrayed her." He kisses their knuckles tenderly. "I know. Shh, shh. Oh, gods below. I dreaded the day I'd see you cry. You know why?"

"Because I'm ugly?" They hic-sob, pathetically.

He scoffs, but it sounds oddly fond. "No." Pause. Slight amusement in his wine-red eyes. "Well, yes, in this moment, you are a travesty."

They sob.

"Oh, but don't take that the wrong way, you know I can't stand to see you so hurt. What am I supposed to do, hm? Hold you until the morning comes?" His hand guides their head to the crook of his neck, where he hides them from the rest of the world.

No prying eyes can find them, now. No judgment. No words to say about the hell that they unleashed. Into the shadows, where they're safe in his embrace, where he will keep them until they decide it is time to go.

"You know I will," he murmurs into the crown of their head. "I would hold you through it all, my love. You could become the most hateful monster, covered in the blood of the undeserving, your ledger as red as an apple..."

Astarion shuts his eyes.

"... And still, I would hold you and vow to never let go. Shed your tears for the wrongs you have committed. The blood you have spilled. I don't care. So long as are my Tav, that is all that matters."

They close their eyes, tears spilling down their cheeks. Their dreamless sleep is peaceful. It is empty.

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

#hello lovely <3 #thank you for your support and kind words #asks #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x you #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 x you #baldur's gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #shadowheart #gale #wyll #karlach #halsin #jaheira #lae'zel #bg3

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faerunnn · 8 months

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Pain.

Before we get started, i have not written ANYTHING in over 10 years, so please, bear with me. I felt the need for some Astarion angst. You getting hurt, him confessing deep and true feelings. You get the drill. Please let me know your thoughts and feedback!! It is greatly appreciated :D

Astarion x GN (dark urge) TAV

Trigger warnings: Mentions of suicide, please please PLEASE read with caution. And know you are not alone <3

Word count: 2040 (sorry it is on the shorter side)

It was cold. Dark. The ultimate void. There was nothing here, only darkness, emptiness, for the first time in your life you felt truly alone. But the void came with a certain peace. The silence is a refreshing change of surroundings. Alone at last. No more bickering, no more painful thoughts and memories, no more tadpole. It was almost like you were relieved. Was this really the blissful ending you have been yearning for? You didn't even feel like you were missing anyone or anything. It was just you. At rest. At peace.

Just when you started getting used to the feeling of true peace, you felt yourself being pulled away from it. Like you were being sucked out of the bliss, pulled back into a life you did not want to live anymore. It had been too much. There had been too much loss, and even for you, there was a limit to what you could handle. There seemed no ending to the pains, the fights, the conflict within you. A darker force urging you to walk down a path you did not want to follow. You were able to resist some of its urges, but there were too many times where you blacked out, woke up and were covered in blood. The lives of countless innocent souls burned your hands.This was the only way out. But now you were being pulled back.

Gasping for air, you try to lift yourself to the surface, only to realize you weren't there anymore. You were not in the water, but on land, surrounded by 6 very worried faces. Unable to properly catch your breath and too embarrassed to make eye contact, you hastily get up and try to walk away. Shadowheart wants to get up and follow after you but Gale steps in front of her.

‘’Let them be for a second.’’ You can hear him say to her while the sounds of their worried voices get more silent by the second. Unable to contain your feelings and emotions any longer you try to kick a big rock into the water. Angry, that you failed. Upset, that they found you. Raged, for the voices are back in your head, urging you to let off some steam in the form of a bloodbath. A single tear rolls down your cheek as you lift your foot to the rock. It is simply too large to just kick, you cry out a little as your foot makes contact and the rock simply just stays put. You drop to your knees, head in your hands in a desperate attempt to just force the voices out with all the power you have collected in your body. A soft sob leaves your lips as you realize that this is an impossible task. There is no cure lying in the palms of your hands.

‘’That rock seemed a bit too large to just kick.’’ A soft voice behind you says. You don't have to look over your shoulder to see who it is. You stay put, but rest your head on your arms while they are propped up on your knees. A small sniffle escapes your mouth as you try to somewhat calm down. You feel your tadpole squirm behind your eye. He is trying to probe your mind, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. You frown, not in the mood to talk about anything right now and block as much of yourself off as you can in your fragile state. But him being him, you know he can peak through the cracks of your already cracked walls. No matter how high you put them up.

‘’We can talk about it, you know?’’ He says, sitting down next to you. ‘’We don’t have to of course, but this is a bit dramatic. Don’t you think?’’

You can almost hear the smirk in his tone, knowing he is trying to lighten the mood in a situation he also knows is very serious. You shrug, unable to really comprehend a full sentence without letting your emotions take over.

‘’I didn’t want to fight anymore.’’ You say after a few moments of comfortable silence. Finally being able to look up at him after voicing your thoughts. You are met with worried red eyes. ‘’I didn’t think i would be a valuable asset to this group, hells, to this life anymore.’’

He looks at you but stays silent, giving you space to explain further.

‘’The only thing I can think about is death. It is all we seem to face, surrounding us everywhere. No matter the situation. The voices in my head, they’re only getting stronger after each kill. Justified or not, I have way too much blood on my hands. I didn't want to contribute anymore. There was no other ending for me here anyway. We will die by these tadpoles in our heads, or by my urges. I don't want to be a liability anymore. We have been through enough, don't you agree?’’ You look at Astarion with watery eyes, but not giving in to the satisfaction of fully crying. Just letting the tears linger there for a moment. He hums in agreement.

‘’ We indeed have been through a lot. It has not always been a walk in the park, so to speak. But there is more out there. More people who can help you, who can cure you.’’ He says while not breaking eye contact. ‘’Besides, imagine how boring it is going to be for me when you are not around anymore. I can’t imagine being stuck with the rest of them for the remainder of however long this journey is going to take.’’

You smile a little at his comment, breaking eye contact and looking out on the river, seeing Baldurs gate in the far distance, bright lights from bustling streets.

‘’I just wish things were different, you know.’’ You say, sadness lingering on your voice.

‘’I know. I wish they were different too.’’ Astarion says softly, with a small sigh.

‘’Do you think we would have met each other if this were not to have happened to us?’’ You ask out of nowhere.

“Maybe. It is a big city after all.’’ He says.

Looking back at him you see him staring at the city the same way you were just a moment ago. His white locks perfectly curled around his face, a light smile resting on his lips and his skin looking even more ethereal in the moonlight. He truly was such a beautiful being. You might not have known each other prior to the events of the tadpole but a part of you hopes you will remain in touch after all of this is over. You look back at Baldur's Gate before being caught staring at him, sitting together in a comfortable silence. The only sounds you hear are the distant fire back at the campsite and the water that is breaching the shore of the river in front of you. You enjoy the combination of soft, gentle sounds, somehow feeling a little bit more at peace. The voices seemingly have backed off out of your mind, for now.

‘’You really scared me.’’ Astarion says after a while, a delectable sadness lingering on his voice.. ‘’I thought I really lost you, for good.’’

You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head but you are too embarrassed to make eye contact. Your eyes lower to the sand and gravel at your feet, unable to really know what to say to that.

‘’I know I cannot take away the pain for you, but god's darling, if there was a way I could, I would in an instant. I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what situation we are being put in, I will be there. And would I risk a knife in my back when I'm asleep? Maybe. But i think if you wanted to hurt me, really hurt me, you already would have by now. This, this is not you. I know you. You are the sole reason my heart is aflame, lit up, every single day. I know this sounds selfish, but I really am not ready to let you go. And I know deep down you are not ready to let go either.’’ He turns his position and takes your hands in his. Finally being able to meet his stare, you notice his eyes are just as glassy as yours. He was being truthful. Nothing of what he just said was deceiving. Some tears roll down your cheeks as he lifts his hand and wipes them away for you.

‘’I am sorry.’’ You softly say. A soft sob escaping from your lips.

‘’You don't have to apologize. There's no need. Just promise me that you will talk to me? About anything. Anything and everything that is bothering you from this moment forward. You do not need to face these demons alone, not anymore.’’ He looks almost desperate. You nod in agreement. He gives you a soft smile and cups your cheek. Staring deeply into each other's eyes before emerging into a tight embrace. A hug so deep, one that can heal almost all wounds. One you didn't know you so desperately longed for until you were experiencing it. You cry out on his shoulder while he rubs your lower back with one hand and holds your head soft but firmly against his form.

Lingering on for quite some time, you finally break free from the embrace. You need rest. Looking over your shoulder to the camp, you see that everyone has already gone to bed. You give Astarion a look and as he gets up he reaches out his hand for you. You take it and as he helps you up you notice your body is much weaker than you thought. Now that the adrenaline of the whole situation has worn off. You stumble into him as he catches you before you could hurt yourself, again. A small, but so much more meaningful gesture that now has a lot more meaning to it that it had before the events of tonight. As you both walk towards your tent, he has his hand on your lower back and the other is holding your arm that he draped around his shoulders. Making sure you got to your bed safely.

When you reach your tent you try to take off the layers of damp and clammy clothes. It was not by any means cold outside, but the fabrics still clung to your skin in the humid climate. Your body not being able to put enough strength together to take them off yourself, you sigh and almost drop to your knees again, in frustration and sadness. Astarion not having left your side, catching up on your emotions and softly and oh so gently starts removing the layers of fabrics. You lean into his touch, missing it when he is not gracing your skin with his gentle touch. And then it hits you.

Safe. You felt safe. A feeling so overwhelming, one you haven’t felt in so long. One you craved for so long. You felt it, now, in this moment. And maybe have been feeling it for a while. Ever since he confessed his feelings for you, and you confessed yours for him. Ever since he started looking out for you instead of looking back for himself. Small gestures with big impacts, you never truly recognised them. Never truly appreciated them, until now. In this moment, you felt it all. The way he was caring for you, how gentle, understanding and cautious he was. He did it because he wants you to feel safe. And you do. A space he created, just for you to let your guard down. An effort no one has made for you. A gesture so big that you almost couldn't comprehend how much this man cares for you.

As you put on your sleeping garb, you turn around and look at him.

‘’Thank you. For everything.’’ You say with a soft smile. He smiles back at you. Genuinely. ‘’Will you please stay here with me tonight?’’

‘’I will stay with you every night, for as long as you will have me. Darling.’’

#baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion baldurs gate #astarion x mc #tav #astarion romance #tav x astarion #bg3 x tav #astarion angst #bg3 angst #bg3 x reader #shadowheart #bg3 oc #astarion x reader

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memo-blogs · 1 month

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Wish An Astarion x Tav (any gender) fic (wholesome/SFW) ((Also, contains spoilers for the game))

As the warm glow of the fading sun caressed the sky, he awoke. Alone, again. Astarion trekked up to the first floor window and peeked outside at the fading sun, longing more than for its warming rays. He looked at the note he had been carrying in his pocket again. The messy familiar scrawlings of his darling.

"There's something I have to do. Please wait for me. -Tav"

It had been days. Where were they? Why wouldn't they take him with them? His mood darkening with the sky, Astarion turned away from the window of his humble abode with Tav.

Or well, maybe "humble" wasn't the right word. Fabulous, well and tastefully adorned, just as Astarion liked it. Tav had smiled that adoring smile of theirs as they let Astarion decorate their home. "You always did have excellent taste, love", Tav had said as they helped Astarion put everything just so. They had been all around the world, looking for just the right drapes, cutlery, carpets, paintings and so on. Their home had two floors and a surprisingly large basement. The days spent finding and putting together the place were mundane and domestic, but full of so much warmth and gentleness that Astarion let a sigh escape his lips as he descended back to the basement floor, painfully aware.

Aware that while the house was exactly how he'd like his home to be, and that while he was excited to actually have a place to call home, it was just a place without Tav. Astarion walked the corridors adorning their nest with knick-knacks and memoirs from their travels together, chuckling at the vibrating dog-collar found in the Underdark, realising that the most at home he'd ever felt was with Tav. He opened their bedroom door and winced at the empty bed. Somehow, even though he had room to roam, and the right to leave the house every night, the empty loneliness of their shared bedroom reminded him of the year he spent in a coffin in isolation as punishment from Cazador. He shuddered. His back ached with the memory of abuse. But he also remembered how softly Tav had wrapped their arms around him, promising never again would he be trapped. And so far, Tav had more than kept their word.

He sat down on their bed. His and Tav's. Astarion absent-mindedly caressed the bedsheets, lost in thoughts.

Where was Tav? What could take this long? Why not take him with them? After all they'd been through together, didn't they trust him? Or… Maybe Tav needed to do something in daylight. Astarion felt the pang of loss. While being tadpoled by an elder brain had been a horror, he had enjoyed the unexpected side-effect of being able to walk in the sun, and missed it dearly. Maybe it was his elf blood that made him ache for the sun. Ah, but to be a vampire, and to walk in the sun! That had been power. That had been the first taste of delicious freedom for him.

Astarion let his thoughts wander back to Cazador's ritual of ascension. Would have sacrificing all those souls really been worth not having to thirst and to be free to walk in the sun? Gods. There were moments where he genuinely thought he'd give anything for that. Fearful, painful moments. And he was so close to giving in to his panic to never be caged ever again.

But then, he recalled Tav's hand in his. Their smiling face. Their selfless bravery in battle, shielding him, always having his back. The way Tav looked at him, how, even if Astarion was just joking that he only wanted vain empty compliments, Tav's responses were always sincere and full of affection. The gentle way they made love. Something about the way Tav loved Astarion was so true, he couldn't deny it. It was in everything Tav did. It was in the way Tav opened up about being a Bhaalspawn, and fearing they'd hurt him. How they weren't afraid of losing power or control or murdering innocents in general - Tav was more scared and willing to give up the one thing they truly loved, if it meant keeping him safe. Him. Astarion. A measly vampire spawn who, in the grand scheme of things, should have meant nothing to someone like Tav. Yet they had died at Bhaal's altar, giving up all that power to be a decent, regular person, and to have a chance to love Astarion. For Tav, it had been more important to die wanting to be good and to love than to give up their soul to live powerful but practically in slavery. Thank the gods Withers had been there to raise Tav as a mortal, no longer tied to Bhaal. To give them and Astarion a chance to live.

Astarion lied down on the bed. Tav loved him enough to set him free. Tav didn't want to own or control him. They never had. They had always let Astarion make his own decisions. Stood by Astarion when he confronted Cazador. Never telling him what to do, but supporting him through it all. If he had ascended, he would have been lost forever. He would have gained power, but he would have lost himself, and become a beast beyond reckoning… Probably very much like Tav almost did, like their sister Orin had. Astarion had read up on vampire lords after, and realised part of the reason Cazador had been so cruel wasn't only that his master Vellion had been equally brutal to Cazador… But also because the one edge spawns had over full fledged vampires, was that they were still capable of love. Of feelings. Cazador had hated him with a passion, partly because he couldn't feel anything else.

And what if it hadn't been him to have been swept up in the mindflayer ship? What if it had been one of his vampire siblings? If the roles had been reversed, and he was still stuck with Cazador while his sibling dealt with the Netherbrain with Tav, he would have hoped to have been given a chance to live as well. He chuckled. Gods. All those spawn down in the Underdark, wreaking havoc. Ah, to be a spider on the ceiling!

Astarion stared at the ceiling of their bed. Mindflayers and vampire lords weren't that different beasts, after all. Soulless opportunists looking to drain whatever they found useful until it no longer wasn't. Astarion turned his head to look at the empty pillow beside him. The longing and uselessness he felt almost made him want to be some emotionless monster. He got up, frustrated.

He felt alone and oddly fragile. More so with each passing day Tav was absent. He trusted Tav. They said they'll be back. So they would be. But Astarion was worried. He walked to Tav's bedroom table and picked up the Sending Stone. He had picked it up and put it down many times as the days passed. He rolled it in his hands again, pondering who to message.

He finally gave the Stone a squeeze, activating it, and uttered: "Shadowheart love, sorry to bother you on a wonderful night such as this, but do you happen to know where Tav is?" The Stone flashed, letting him know the message was sent. He waited for a response.

None came. Odd. They weren't exactly the bestest of friends with Shadowheart, but she had always given some sort of reply when he had messaged her. Was she missing with Tav? Did they take Shadowheart with them wherever they went, but not him? What was going on? He thought of their old companions. Wyll and Karlach were still in the Hells, as far as he knew. Halsin was rebuilding the Shadowlands now that the shadows were no more. Jaheira was rebuilding Baldur's Gate. Lae'Zel was long gone fighting for the freedom of her people. He didn't dare to even think what Minsc was up to, or how he'd respond to any message, really. This didn't leave him many options on who to try next. He squeezed the Stone again, activating it.

"Gale - would you be a dear and let me know if you have any idea where Tav is?"

The response came in surprisingly quick this time. "Astarion! A little busy right now - ack!" The response cut out.

Astarion sat back down on the bed, Sending Stone in hand. So Shadowheart was unresponsive and Gale, professor of magic in Waterdeep, was clearly in some kind of battle - what were the odds these two events were unrelated? What was Tav up to that they had called on Shadowheart and Gale, but left him at home to worry? He stood up and paced. What was going on?

He heard a weary sigh in his ear. "Astarion." It was Gale. He was sending a message back. Astarion stopped to listen. "Terribly sorry not to respond. In a bit of a spot of bother. We're helping Tav… Retrieve an item, and it is proving rather tricky. Not to worry! Shadowheart has patched up the worst of Tav's injuries and we're nearly done here. We'll bring Tav home tomorrow night once we've all rested from today's activities."

"Tav is hurt?" Astarion found himself nearly shouting. He contained himself and poised his next words to be more his usual lax self. "Do make sure to tell them to not drag any blood on my Calimshite carpets when you return. They were very expensive. I suppose I'll have dinner waiting after sunset. You still drink wine, don't you Gale?"

Gale chuckled. "Tav says they wouldn't dream of dirtying your precious carpets. And a fine wine with some cheese sounds wonderful. See you tomorrow."

Astarion put the Stone back on Tav's table. Honestly he couldn't care less about the stupid carpets or even this entire house - he just wanted Tav back safe and sound. Tav getting injured worried him, as he knew how annoyingly self-sacrificing they could be. Didn't they agree to look after themselves first after the whole mess with the Netherbrain? What was Tav thinking?

Astarion walked upstairs and put on a coat. He needed the air to calm his nerves, and a meal to quench his thirst. Plus, now he'd have to prepare dinner for at least three since Tav was coming home with an entourage. He thought back to where Tav placed the recipe for that strange sauce Gale kept harping on about, and with a put upon sigh determined to make his best effort to make the stupid thing. Tav would be happy if he tried to be kind to their friends. And if they brought Tav back to him alive, maybe slaving over a meal wasn't such a big thing.

The next sunset, Astarion felt a little pathetic, sitting by their door waiting. But he couldn't help it. He was anxious to see what Tav had gone out to retrieve that was apparently worth dying over. And mostly, just to see his beloved idiot again. It had been horribly lonely and empty without Tav. And honestly, just mind-numbingly boring. He had started preparing dinner early as he couldn't really sleep the day, waiting. It was simmering on their stove. He had gone a bit overboard with setting the table as well, picking out Tav's favourite flowers and bringing out their best cutlery for their friends.

Astarion gingerly stole a glance at the last rays of the sun diving underneath the horizon, and as soon as they disappeared, a teleportation circle promptly manifested in their yard. As expected, Gale walked out, looking behind him as if encouraging whomever was behind him to follow. Out came Shadowheart and surprisingly, Jaheira, supporting a limping Tav between them. As soon as they were through, Gale shut the portal behind them.

Astarion couldn't contain himself. He flung the door open and ran to hold Tav. He held them hard, as if afraid Tav would vanish if he let go. For a small moment, he was lost in Tav's familiar scent. The one he had come to associate with being loved and being home, and he managed to hold back his tears on how good it felt to have Tav near him again. Tav gently kissed Astarion on his head, laying their head on his. "Hello, darling. Miss me?"

Astarion suddenly felt acutely aware they weren't alone and broke off their embrace. He tried to ignore Jaheira's knowing smirk and Shadowheart's little smile as he turned to face the latter. "I thought Gale said you'd patch my precious knucklehead before sending them home. Why are they still injured?"

Tav looked embarrassed. "Well, uh-" They were cut off by Jaheira. "Because we only have so many healing spells to spare a day, spawn, and we did as much as we could after a night's rest for the reckless cub, Shadowheart and I." Jaheira smacked Tav on the shoulder, as if to reprimand them for needing healing in the first place. Astarion's eyes widened in shock. "How hurt were you?"

"Exhaustingly so." Shadowheart sighed. "For a moment there, I wasn't sure Tav was still among the living, or that we could even bring them back, but we did, thank Selûne."

"Aye, burnt to a crisp by that one trap we missed. Shame the temple was filled with so much undead-repelling magics that we couldn't risk bringing our favourite vampire spawn in there to check for all of them, but we managed."

Everyone stopped when they noticed how quiet Astarion got. There was an awkward silence that hung among the group, as everyone realised even without tadpoles to connect them that Astarion was not okay with the news given. Tav looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you to come along. I know you would have come even if I didn't ask if I said I was going. But, there is a reason for this." Tav signaled for Shadowheart and Jaheira to release them, and stood up on their own feet.

Astarion sighed. "Just don't do it again. Now, I've made enough dinner for all of you, and there are guest bedrooms upstairs if you want to stay the night. You can tell me all about it over dinner." Astarion walked up to Tav, offering them a hand to lean on as he led them home. Their friends smiled and walked behind them, grateful for the offer of a hearth, a meal and a warm home.

Tav whispered in his ear. "Just like that? You forgive me for taking off without you?" Astarion gave their arm a gentle squeeze. "Yes love. I said I trust you, and despite all the evidence to the contrary, I still do." They walked together into their home with their friends. "But please don't leave me alone like this again. I don't like being alone with my thoughts for so long." Tav kissed his pale cheek. "I promise. This was the last escapade I'll ever do without your blessing."

As they sat down for dinner Jaheira laughed. "Astarion, seems I have misjudged you yet again. Not only was I right in mistaking you for a good man, now I am beginning to believe I might mistake you for a great husband. This is a beautiful setup!"

"Oh hush, you old crone. It's just dinner among friends", Astarion quipped back, smiling despite himself.

Gale sniffed the air as he sat down. "Is that Hundur sauce I smell?" He took a small dab of sauce on his spoon and tasted it. "By Mystra, you even got the flavours just right! Astarion! I didn't know you had the makings of a cook."

"There are many things you don't know about me, darling."

Shadowheart piped in while breaking bread for herself. "Indeed - I for one, am having a hard time telling which one of you loves the other more, you or Tav. Especially after this stunt we helped them pull. It'd be disgusting if you two weren't so adorable together… What isn't a mystery though, is who decorated your house. Really, Astarion?"

"You're just jealous you don't have my sense of style, love."

They all smirked, Tav smiling the biggest of them all. "Thank you, everyone. For being here. For you three for helping me with this… We can talk about what we did, but I'd like to tell Astarion in private what we got out of it, if that's okay. And… Just, you are all my family and I love you all very much. I am honoured to be among such amazing friends, and could not ask for better ones. If you ever need anything, anything at all, call and you know I will be there."

A choked silence hung among them, as no one really knew what to add to such heartfelt words of affection. Astarion smiled. Tav was one-of-a-kind. And all his. Jaheira turned her head to wipe a tear. Shadowheart smiled. Gale cleared his throat. "Well, let's not waste our gracious chef's efforts by letting this feast go cold. Shall we?"

They ate together as mostly Gale and Shadowheart regaled them with the story of how they had found a long-abandoned temple of Lathander, and plunged into it's surprisingly sunny depths, with occasional snarky remarks from the wizened Jaheira of all the blunders they made along the way. Tav focused on the meal, following along the story, nodding in places in agreement on the retelling of their past few days, and laughing at everyone's quips and remarks on their mishaps while at it. Astarion wondered what was worth this much trouble. The Blood of Lathander was still with Shadowheart. What more could the sun god offer that was worth the risk? He also noted that Tav seemed oddly nervous, and avoided his gaze throughout the dinner, shyly blushing into their dinner whenever their eyes did meet. Astarion found himself anxious as well, every now and then letting his foot tap under the table before he caught himself, and composed himself once more.

Eventually dinner came to a close, and they saw their guests to bed. Shadowheart promised to finish healing up Tav as soon as she woke up and before Gale teleported them all back home. They wished their friends a good night.

Astarion gently helped Tav down into their basement bedroom, and then to take off their armour and clothes. Dawn was already approaching, which was their bedtime, as Tav had adopted Astarion's nocturnal schedule with ease. He noted the bruising, the burns, the barely closed wounds from the battles Tav had recently fought without him while undressing them. He got lost in softly caressing Tav's battered body, until Tav's hand found his, and gently held it. Astarion looked into Tav's eyes. "Alright. We're alone now - could you please tell me what was worth nearly killing yourself over, again? The suspense is killing me, darling."

Tav looked at their knees, searching for their words. "You know how you showed me your grave stone", they started.

"Of course love, how could I forget? We made such excellent love on top of it that night. I cannot think of a better way to celebrate my rebirth at the time", Astarion shot back with a devilish grin. "I fail to see how my faded grave stone has anything to do with your little adventure", he added.

"Well that's just it - your grave was so faded, we couldn't make out the day you died. Or the day you were born. And you still can't remember, right?"

"Well no, I can't and honestly, I don't really care to. That person is long gone and can stay that way for all I care. Why does it matter?"

Tav played with their hands in their lap. "Today's a year from the day we first met. I was afraid I wouldn't make it back on time, but I did." Tav used the bed post to stand up, and limped to their satchel. They took out an unassuming scroll case. "I figured, today could be both yours and my birthday. Since I can't remember my birthday either. It could be our anniversary. A day of celebration. Our day. And I went out and got the one thing I really, truly want to give you above all... I've been plotting ways to find one for some time now." Tav limped in front of Astarion and painfully but meticulously got on one knee. Astarion could feel his cheeks getting hot - a feeling he wasn't sure he was even capable of anymore, being undead and all.

Tav presented the scroll case to him. "The temple of the sun god had been rumoured to contain a Wish spell. I risked everything to find out if the rumour was true, and it was. With this scroll, anyone can wish for anything; once." Tav placed the scroll into Astarion's hands.

"I know how much you loved walking in the sun, Astarion. Your life was taken from you. Your freedom. Even the sun was stolen from you. I give you this scroll, so that you can wish for anything. You can wish to ascend without sacrificing all those spawn, you can wish to be rid of your vampiric curse, you could wish to rule the world - anything you want." Tav gently squeezed Astarion's hands, holding the scroll case, and looked up at him with their piercing eyes. "I love you, Astarion. And I always will. I give you ultimate freedom to choose anything you want, anything at all."

For a moment, it felt as if time stood still as Astarion fully absorbed what Tav just said. What they were offering him. Suddenly, he couldn't help but cry. He threw the scroll case into a corner of the room and knelt down to hold his precious Tav as close as he could. How had he gotten so lucky? After centuries of misery, how was he here, now, with this amazing creature? He kissed them deeply, passionately, as if trying to convey all his overwhelming affection and gratitude in one, two, no; dozens of kisses and caresses. He didn't care he was still crying. He didn't care if he seemed insane. He just wanted to feel Tav, and never let go. To tell them without words Tav meant more to him than anything he could ever bring home.

After awhile, he stopped and they leaned their foreheads together, holding hands. Astarion noticed Tav was crying too, but Tav gave him a little smile nonetheless. There was an unanswered question in Tav's eyes -

What did Astarion want to Wish for?

Astarion kissed Tav on the forehead once more. "You are a reckless idiot." He got up and picked up the scroll case, and took out the scroll. Such a mundane looking piece of paper, to give out a moment of godlike powers to mere mortals. He played with it as if it was nothing. Tav smirked. "I know. So love, what are you going to use it for?"

Astarion grinned back at Tav. "Oh, I don't know. World domination does sound like an awful lot of work, doesn't it? And I have never heard of a happy vampire lord, now that I think of it. Powerful, to be sure - but not happy."

"I could wish for a sea of puppy dogs and kittens for you", Astarion joked. Tav laughed. "I got the scroll for you, smooth brain. I already have everything I need - what I want, is you to be free, in whatever way you want to be free." Tav dropped their joking demeanor and picked up their surprisingly disarming sincerity. "With or without me, I want you to be happy. You helped me find freedom and regain myself and my life back. Without you, I'd still be a slave to Bhaal's endless fervour to murder, or a mindflayer. You believed in me when no one else did, and supported me through bouts of madness. I owe my life to you… So I want you to choose yours. And whatever you choose, know I'll always love you for carrying me through my darkest days."

Astarion looked at Tav. He didn't need to connect through the no-longer-present tadpole to know they meant every word. He looked down at the scroll of Wish in his hands. He could be anyone. He could do anything. He could be the most powerful, influential and beloved man in all of Faerûn - all he had to do was say the words.

The scroll knew he meant to make his Wish. It glowed in anticipation. He smiled at Tav. "I wish to be cured of vampirism and to be an elf that's capable of walking in the sun with his beloved."

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mare-noctis-studios · 8 months

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Ambrosia

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Astarion x You (gn terms) CW: Blood drinking, Vampirism, Allusions to Sex

Astarion is a True Vampire and decides he is allowed to have the things he wants for eternity

“You look so lovely like this darling. So… obedient. Maybe I should keep you like this. My spawn. Mine for eternity.”

You begin to protest, but the words died unspoken on your lips as a wave of thought washed through you. It wrapped around your brain with a comforting warmth. It was so nice to just give in. Astarion’s eyes glowed in the firelight, warm as the blood that thrums through your heart, and a fond smile graced his lips.

It was an odd feeling. Your brain was still your own, your own thoughts and beliefs, and yet at a simple command the desire to obey overpowers all else.

Your eyes speak the words your lips cannot, and the smile grows wider - revealing pointed fangs stained red.

“You now see why a vampire hardly converts his spawn. The power you have over one, to make them obey to your every whim. Your puppet, to do with as you please” The downturn of his lips betrayed his own memories, the sour taste of panic in your throat as he continued to burn holes with his gaze. You feel the tadpole squirm in your brain, lashing out at the control with its own desire to dominate. Leaning into that feeling you let authority wash over as your minds touched briefly, a gentle caress as you wrapped one of his silver curls around you finger, delight shining deep in his eyes like the glimmer of coin in a well.

“You never needed to prove your torment to me Astarion” you say softly, letting the illithid power battle the vampire domination as you fall to your knees, face upturned to bare your soul. “I trust you.”

A hand reaches out, cold and pale to brush over your cheek, thumb brushing the plump of your lower lip as you graze the pad of his finger.

Something akin to childlike wonder crept across Astarion’s face as he lifted your top lip gently to reveal what would become fangs, sinking slowly to his knees as hands roamed your neck and chest.

“By the Nine Hells, I do not deserve something as good as you” he whispered, pulling the strings of your shirt undone so he could rid you of the fabric. You followed suit, gently pulling the ruffle up so that his bare chest was mere inches away from yours, letting your hands explore the poem carved across his back.

“You may not deserve me,” you breathe, ghosting your lips in featherlight kisses across his jaw, teasing the skin at the hinge as his hands tangle in your hair. “But you have me all the same.”

Astarion pulled back for a moment, studying the slowly drying blood trails from the wound on your neck with keen interest. He brought stained fingers to his nose and sighed, tenderly licking the remnants away.

“I am going to miss this, dear. You as my sole sustenance, the very reason I continue my existence in this realm. You taste exquisite, my love, and it is a shame that such delicacy is to be lost forever.”

You smile at that, tilting your head as you let a playful tone stretch out between your shared minds. “Yes, I will be disappointing my other dinner guests it seems. Maybe I should back out while I can?”

A lance of poisonous anger pierced your mind, but it only made you laugh. Your beautiful, exquisite, possessive partner.

“Not that I offered my neck to anyone.” You let your smile slip into something more sensual, running your hands up his side until they came to rest at his jaw, pulling him forward in a near kiss. “Only you Astarion. It has only every been you.”

Your breath mingles in the moment as you tease his bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to indent skin. A promise of what’s to come. His hands tighten in the roots of your hair as he bares his neck with a groan, eyes falling closed as shifts even closer. You take a moment to pull him fully into your lap, guiding long legs around your waist, as desire flares white hot in your veins. Desire to consume, to devour the sinful being at your mercy. Astarion melted slightly in your hold, pressing open mouthed kisses to your temple.

“Feed, my love” he panted, pressing his chest tight to yours as shivers of anticipation overtook him. “Indulge yourself, for we may enjoy these proclivities for an eternity hereafter.”

You smile, nosing gently over the faint puncture marks from Cazador. “An eternity you say?” Anticipation thrums through your heart as you pull Astarion into a searing kiss. “I could think of nothing more delightful” you whisper, teeth grazing gently at the raised scars on his throat. You feel Astarion swallow once, twice, and with one final tug closer you bite.

Iron fills your senses as blood rushes forth, cool like water from a mountain spring, and you crave. Hands tightening in Astarion’s hair you draw his head to the side exposing his neck even more, hungrily drinking from the veritable fountain as blood settled deep and comforting within your body. You feel Astarion’s body shaking in your lap as you register the soft groans of delight coming from the throat under your tongue. Power blooms within you, the tadpole squirming in delight as you feel the tendrils of vampiric touch so familiar from Astarion’s own mind begin to take root, branching out and wrapping themselves around the fibre of your very being. Blood trickles out of your mouth and down your neck but its pales in comparison to the explosion of taste across your tongue.

Never had you thought blood would taste anything other than the metallic tang you had experienced in your own life’s injuries, but here you are. Astarion once described your taste as something akin to a fine wine - razor sharp yet delicate enough for most uses – however fine did not do him justice.

Astarion was exquisite. Cool and full-bodied, he tasted of sweet nectar and crisp air on a winter’s night, and you were an addict. Blood poured down your throat as Astarion strained a moan into your hair, his own excitement settling against your stomach, and you begin the monumental effort of slaking your thirst. Lapping at the wounds until they no longer flowed freely you met him halfway in a passionate kiss, the blood of you both mingling on your tongue in a way that overshadowed any pairing you had tasted before.

Alone, Astarion was exquisite. Together? Not even the finest ambrosia from the gods could hold a candle to the tase of you.

Astarion seemed eager to rid the last vestiges of clothes between you, and you hastily followed – not caring for the blood you two smeared on each other in the process – and soon you found yourself with Astarion’s legs around your waist and your mouth leaving a patina of love-bites across his chest. With every bite you feel your canines sharpening, until every bruise was accompanied by small punctures, each one driving your lover further and further over the edge into ecstasy.

Soon you were collapsing beside him, nose pressed into the open wound at his neck, his hands tracing lines from your own bite wound down to your heart. Even now, mere hours after your conversion, you feel your chest grow still – no longer needing to breathe – and the warmth of the fire more noticeable in your embrace.

“Thank you” you murmur, tongue gently cleaning the dried blood trail.

Astarion made a noise of contented pleasure, letting you continue your ministrations with the languid grace of a sated predator. “You trusted me to let you convert fully” he mused, seemingly to the empty air above your head but you smiled all the same, pressing a final kiss to the bite wound on his neck.

“Of course,” you say simply, propping up on one elbow to look at him fully. “I trusted that your desire for me would outweigh any tyrannical ideas you might have upon gaining a spawn of your own.” Your knowing smile was met with a mildly sheepish look, so you lean down to kiss it away. “Now, as you say, I can enjoy the machinations of your desire for eternity.”

Maybe I will continue this, or similar stories with the other companions as I get inspired. Let me know what you think Thanks for reading! K

If you would like to be added to the Astarion fic tag list please comment a 🩸

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walk-the-fade · 3 months

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Coming from DAi, Ive seen so many ppl write their inky as a kid or at youngest 18 bc it changes the dynamic between them and the party...

Has anyone done that/ considered how it would change the relationship with Tav?

Lae'zel being frustrated and terrified that her survival is dependent on a teenager. She's taking orders from someone barely old enough to know their way around life on a good day, but now finding her people and being purified fully hinges on this kid's survival and she will be damned if she doesn't die to protect them.

Wyll sees himself in them, wide eyed and terrified at 17 when he bound himself to a devil and his father cast him out. The gods are cruel for giving children their toughest battles. He's going to give them every piece of advice he has and pledge his blade to their cause.

Gale being even more hesistant to open about The Orb and Mystra and his condition because he thinks it's too much for them. They should be tucked away in a library, they should be walking through Baldur's Gate worried about trinkets and sweets and being home on time so they don't worry their mother... not tasked with saving Faerûn from a cult.

Astarion thinks its annoying at first. "Free" for the first time in 200 years. Illithid tadpole squirming in his head and he's stuck following a literal fetus in hopes of survival. Its laughable. He almost –almost– feels bad about having to feed from them, but young blood is always sweeter. And when they earn his approval he's bitter on their behalf. Forced to be a hero, some beacon of light before you've even explored life and it's simple pleasures? Appalling.

Karlach... oh boy Karlach burns hot when they tell her exactly how old they are. Its stupid- its unfair- ITS BULLSHIT quite honestly. The nickname Soldier becomes so much more. This kid doesn't give up. They can't, Mama K will do everything in her power to stop it. They need a friend in these tough times and shes more than willing to be that person. Gods....

Shadowheart is a little surprised, but she's the one that underestimates them the least, for sure. They're not that much older than when she was taken in by The Dark Lady and her followers. She knows that you become strong when you need to be. It may be unfair but that doesn't make them any less capable as long as they understand the task at hand. She will see to it that they stay on the right path. And when her faith shifts she realizes neither of them deserve to struggle.

As for Halsin, it makes his heart ACHE in his chest when someone so young comes to his rescue. His knee jerk reaction is that they need training, gudiance... protection. But he quickly realizes that's only half true. They are young sure, but they are not helpless. He will help them in anyway that he can whether it be in battle against The Absolute or by carving them little wooden animals while they sleep and leaving them in their tent. They deserve a little happiness amongst the chaos.

Minthara (assuming she has been recruited at Moonrise) is surprised more by the fact that they chose to show her mercy than by their age. Given her upbringing, survival and violence go hand in hand and if this kid has survived this long, faced power of absolute and survived? Than they are worthy of her respect, hands down. She may not always agree with their methods but she will certainly not hesistate to stand beside them.

#i would include jaheira and minsc but i dont know if i have much to say for minsc just bc i havent recruited him yet #teenage tav definitely makes Jaheira feel her fucking age though LMAO #shes been dealing with bhaal for way too fucking long its certainly not a childs job to clean up something shes been trying to fight for #several hundred years #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #tav #tav headcanons #teenage!tav #shadowheart #lae'zel #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale of waterdeep #minthara baenre #the druid halsin #halsin #karlach #wyll ravengard

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orkbutch · 7 months

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Okay! time to add my accompanying essays with each image from this set of work about why I assigned which types of play to each set of characters, and how Baldur's Gate III supports these in the text of the game. Because I thought about all of this way too much im not joking

First, Context: All of these are drawings of consentual play happening between these characters after they have put aside any active conflicts between each other. Nontheless, they utilise the dynamics and emotional conflicts of these characters. Each of these characters are in some way violent people, deeply stressed out by their circumstances, and craving pleasure and connection. Sometimes you need a little pinch and squeal before the end of the world just to get through the night, you know?

Rough D/s sex/Breath play, Karlach (D) / Shadowheart (S)

A little clarification of what exactly is happening in this image: Karlach is strapping SH roughly, whispering very dirty things in hear ear, and using her hand and the weight of her body to gently restrict SH's breathing. Now you know. :) If you want to know what Karlach is whispering, I will be taking questions thank you.

The first thing Shadowheart says upon seeing Karlach is that she likes that Karlach looks strong and reliable enough to protect her in a pinch. This is because Shadowheart is horny and gay but ALSO. I wanted to explore this little glimpse of something unexpected about SH, especially that early in the game, but really revealing and true about her personality: Shadowheart understands and appreciates that relying on others is very important and shouldn't be avoided.

I think this part of SH is almost her saving grace from otherwise being totally absorbed by her Sharran faith; knowing she wants and needs other people. Because community has always been comforting to her, and because other people help you cope with life. It makes her loneliness far more profoud as well. She has not buried a need for other people (like Astarion for example), but lost people she knows she needs. She lost her Sharran peers on their mission, lost her memories, lost her family, lost the experience of being cared for in childhood. What does that have to do with SH getting pounded into the ground by a big hot woman, I hear you asking. Well, it's related to how I see Shadowheart's possible relationship to submission. I instinctively see SH as a dom because she just... Absolutely gives dominatrix energy. She basically got trained to be a particularly mean dominatrix, and I think she'd enjoy doing it a whole lot. But being a dom is a role of responsibility, reliability and authority; it requires you to plan and think and make decisions not just for yourself but for a whole additional person. Shadowheart clearly enjoys not having to do that sometimes. She knows the reliability, guidance and support of another person/people being there for her, and she craves it.

I think she'd like being taken away from the responsibility of their situation; to not have to think about the artifact, the tadpole, the fate of the world, what Shar wants, who she is, what her memories are, will she die tomorrow - a terribly stressful existence for someone as prone to anxiety as SH seems to be. What a luxury, to let someone force all the worries out of your head. To leave no space for those anxieties to find purchase through the weight and force of their presence. A big, hot, reliable warrior, squeezing you close, filling your head with what to think about, flooding you with pleasure and a little pain, enough to ground you to the moment. It's a rare treat. SH would love it.

On the other hand, I think Karlach would absolutely love this kind of role. Not because Karlach likes pure power - she seems kinda repelled by it actually - but because Karlach loves being capable, needed, and providing for people. To sweep SH off her feet and give her a moment of hot, rough, rejuvinating bliss through her strength and sexual prowess would be extremely up Karlach's ally.

Karlach is also just... such a rough houser. She's an excited dog at the park that plays too rough and feels bad until she finds a friend who actually loves it, and she's thrilled with the chance to use all that energy to its full potential. She likes a little grit and texture. Anything too slow or methodical and I think she'd get bored. To get to use her boundless energy and have that be deeply appreciated would be so fun for her.

For her to get to use her body and the traits that ended up landing her in slavery - her toughness, strength, skill at violence and knack for intimidation - to indulge, to provide pleasure, to make something good and deeply desired... I think that'd be very touching for Karlach. Intimacy is something she hasn't gotten to explore for a long time. She wants as much contact as possible, to feel others viscerally, to feel that she can be something that other people can not just handle/accept but enthusiastically want. Even after whats been done to her and what she was for ten years, she is the right thing for people, because of and not despite who she is after Avernus.

In conclusion: I think Shadowheart would love to be no thoughts head empty fucked brainless now and then, and I think Karlach would be thrilled to provide. And oh man, Karlach would be SO good at aftercare. So sweet, so warm to cuddle up against, super attentive. She'd ask for reassurance that she wasn't too rough or didn't say anything weird, and Shadowheart would reassure her that they could get far more depraved than that; it was exactly what she needed, and she wanted to go deeper next time. A little challenge to let Karlach embrace her role more completely. Oof. I am so excited to write this shit into the fic im working on LMAO

#karlach #Shadowheart #shadowlach #bg3 #art #nasties #kinkposting

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