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sweetadonisbutbetter · 1 month

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Ur so pretty

A/n: HAI OMG- its been...a while...if anyone read it, I posted the WIP of this like all the way back in November last year. other notes are that there is no use of Y/N, and it is kept gender neutral, but it is implied to be WLW. but since it is no longer in my hands, take it as you will keke hope u enjoy!!!

Upon waking up, you already felt that it was going to be a long day, one that was longer than usual. The sores from numerous fights and hours of walking were ever present from the moment you opened your eyes; the feeling of the Astarion’s fangs wringing your neck numb. You mentally check off the numerous problems before you get out of your tent and set off for the day. Upon leaving the dimly lit tent, you were blinded slightly by the morning light. The smell of breakfast filled the air as idle chatter continued. You take a moment to look at your companions. Gale was the one cooking, making idle chatter with Wyll and Karlach, the latter who was most likely the one who started the fire. Lae’zel was by herself, sharpening one of her many swords. Astarion emerges from his tent, also having just woken up. You continue to scan the camp looking for someone in particular.

‘No sign of her…’ You think to yourself, pouting slightly. From the corner of your eyes, you see Astarion approaching you. Sighing, you reiterate the fact that although the day had just started, you could tell it was going to be a long day.

“Glad to see you didn’t die last night.” He greets you with a smirk. You look at him, already feeling the regret of letting him feed and an oncoming headache. You pinch the bridge of your nose, hoping it will relieve some tension.

“Well if someone didn’t take any more than he should have, I wouldn’t have passed out.” You quip, to which Astarion lets out a laugh.

“I did not take any more than I normally do. You just lost a lot of blood yesterday.” He says as he crosses his arms and shifts to the side. You look at him blankly for a moment, thinking if it would be worth it to put a stake in his heart. Listing the pros and cons, it seems that keeping him alive has more pros, shockingly. Sighing once more, which was something that happened a lot when Astarion was around, you cast lesser restoration on yourself and begin to walk towards Gale, Karlach, and Wyll. However, before you can even approach the trio, you see Shadowheart emerge from her tent.

Your heart skips a beat as you look at her from afar. From the moment you had seen her while on the nautiloid, you had some sort of feelings stirring for her. Just a glance at her tells you how much of a beauty she is. The way her onyx hair framed her face, her braid that swished and would often rest on her shoulders, and the soft makeup that furthered her beauty in a way that felt almost godlike. Not to mention her eyes. The soft hazel green stood out with her darker eyeshadow, luring in the very person who looked into them. In your mind, she could rival the beauty of the gods and goddesses. However, it wasn’t just her physical beauty that lured you in, it was the subtle beauty that seemingly showed when she wasn’t paying attention. The soft smile that creeps up her face when you were swarmed by children at the grove, or how she plays with Scratch when she thinks no one is paying attention. You would often find yourself looking forward to fights, just to get injured so she could heal you, watching how her hands would tenderly cover the wound. In essence, her mannerisms, voice, and beauty have bewitched you, terribly. Often you were left lying awake late at night, thinking back on any conversation or memories you have of her.

Since the tiefling party a few nights ago, you have had numerous things to think of. Truthfully, you were elated that you had agreed to a drink with her, since in your mind it showed that she had a fraction of attraction towards you. While it was hard to tell how she truly felt since she was sharran and they were sworn to secrecy; you did not need words to know that she enjoyed the moment you two shared. The kiss you two shared, the talking and looking into one another's eyes until either the sun came up or sleep overtook you both. The morning after you two had talked about it, she agreed that there was something between the two of you. However, soon after she began to withdraw herself from you, she would avoid being alone with you, cut the conversation short, and even volunteer to stay behind at camp. It hurt to see her detach herself from any social interaction with you. You even knew that she was avoiding only you, catching glimpses of her talking to the others, chattering with Lae’zel even though they both differed. Rather than getting upset and confronting her, you kept it to yourself. Finding that it was better to give her space, something that she appreciated in the past, though it was turning out to be harder than you wanted it to be.

“You know, it is rude to stare.” A voice cuts you out of your train of thought. Blinking, you look at the voice and see that it is Astarion. Confused as to what he is talking about, you give him a look. He rolls his eyes and smacks his teeth. “You have been staring at Shadowheart’s tent for a good while, my friend. A bit too long, might I add.”

Quietly, you let out an ‘oh’ before you turn towards your tent. You decide to start getting ready for the day, no longer hungry. Stripping your camp wear and donning your armor, you mentally summon all your courage so you can ask Shadowheart to accompany you, Gale, and Karlach. Finishing the knot of your boots, you equip your weapons and leave your tent, the blinding rays of the sun stinging your eyes for a brief moment.

‘Moonmadein please guide me.’ You utter in your thoughts before you make your way to Gale and Karlach. Even though you were nowhere near them, Karalach seemed to notice you were heading their way. Turning her head from her conversation with Gale, she makes eye contact with you. Her face seemingly lights up as small flames rise out of her skin.

“Mornin’ soldier!” She hollers. Gale says something to her in a quiet tone, one that you can’t hear. Whatever he told her caused the flames on her to diminish. Looking back at you, she gives a slightly nervous chuckle and says, “Sorry about that. Just excited to get on the road again.”

“No worries, and good morning to you Karlach. You too Gale.” You reassure Karlach quickly before you greet the wizard. Gale smiles in return and greets a quick ‘morning’ before leaving, presumably to get his stuff for the road. You look back to Karlach and ask, “Have you seen Shadowheart?”

“Oh, I think I saw she went with Scratch into the woods,” Karlach says, her mood seemingly more down. She hesitates for a moment, before asking “Why?”

“I just want to see if she wants to join us on the road. It has been a bit since she left camp.” You explain, hoping you weren't evident in your real reason for talking to her. While it wasn’t a complete lie, it wasn't the whole truth. The half-truth was that you did want her to accompany you and walk around for a while; you did want to know if she wanted to leave camp for a while. You also just wanted a moment alone with her; for when there was a moment where everyone was walking, no direction in mind. It seemed that Karlach bought what you said, as she began to perk up a bit after your answer. However before anything else could be said, the bushes rustled slightly. You and Karlach turn to the noise, however, you don’t need to go and investigate since Scratch jumps from the bushes and runs toward you. He jumps onto your chest, tackling you to the ground before he starts to lick at your face. Laughing at the slightly ticklish feeling, you try to move him off of you, not too keen on smelling like dog breath or even having slobber on you so early in the day. Thankfully he gets off with ease and goes to bother someone else. Still chuckling, you get up from the ground, with the help of Karlach who is laughing with you. The rustling of leaves happens once more, catching your attention once more. This time it was Shadowheart who emerged from the woods. You briefly make eye contact with her, your heart skips a beat, and you move towards her. Though it seemed she noticed you moving, since she looked away first and headed back to her tent, not even uttering a greeting or looking back. Your shoulders sag, clearly dejected at her avoidance. ‘I can’t be like this all day. We have to move forward.’ You think to yourself, quickly shaking the feeling and standing up straighter, putting on the front that you were not bothered by it.

“It seems like she has no intent on leaving today. I suppose we could drag Astarion with us.” You jest lightly to Karlach. Wanting to leave sooner, you readjust your pack and look for Astarion. Thankfully, he seemed to have read your mind and was already in his gear. You look for Gale briefly and see that he is equally as ready. With a nod, the four of you leave camp and begin the day.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ugh, I feel I can sleep for days,” Karlach groans as she stretches her back. Letting out another exhausted sigh, she falls back. You nod in agreement, the weariness in your bones causing them to ache slightly more than they already were. While trying to stretch your back, you find it more difficult than normal, as you are in your armor. It was a long day, numerous battles and hours of walking. If there were only a handful of fights, you could handle that, however, it felt like it was battle after battle. The mere thought of the battles caused the bruises on your body to feel more prominent. Plopping down on a nearby tree trunk, you let your body relax as much as it can while sitting up. You look to Gale was already cooking, somehow already in his evening wear. The smell of the food made its way into your stomach, causing it to rumble. Looking around, you notice you can’t find Astarion. Assuming that he is relaxing in his tent, you sigh and lean back, still trying to find relief.

However, you begin to become restless. Somehow through the aches and pain, you feel the need for fresh air, which is odd for being outside. Not being able to sit and just wait, you get up and begin to head to your tent. Before you head inside, you turn to Karlach and Gale.

“You two can stay at camp tomorrow. Take the day to rest. I could bring Wyll and Lae’zel instead.” I say to Karlach and Gale. Gale doesn’t comment, rather focused on the meal he was making than what I was saying. I hear a faint groan, which you assume is Astarion. You begin to feel slightly bad, that he can’t get a day of rest, however with the avoidance from Shadowheart, there is bound to be one person who has to travel a little more.

‘Hopefully, she will get over whatever hindrance she is dealing with…hope I didn’t do anything wrong.’ You think before shaking the thought. ‘I shouldn’t think about it too much.’

You rid your thoughts altogether, of what happened, what is, and what was to come; choosing not to think on it too much, you begin to take off your armor. It took you longer than normal, the aches in your body causing you to slow down. Eventually, you were in your evening wear; sitting on the floor, staring at your feet blankly. You didn’t notice how much the day had affected you, to the point you just wanted to seek the warmth of another person and just fall into the deepest sleep you could. However, the person’s warmth you wanted seemingly wanted nothing to do with you. You let out another deep sigh, kick off your boots, and turn to your bed, not wanting to eat.

It seemed that no one noticed that you decided to turn in early for the night, or if they did no one came into your tent. You felt a tad grateful that no one came, feeling that no one's company would be enough. You lie in your tent, trying to sleep. However, no matter how much you slowed your breathing and kept your eyes closed, your body could not find itself to relax. With a sigh, you decide to give up on sleeping and leave your tent. Hastily throwing on your boots and mentally wishing it was late enough, you emerge from your tent and see that the camp is empty. The fire from supper was completely burnt out, and the large pile of dishes piled up near the lake camp was showing that everyone had indeed turned in for the night. Turning your head once again, you see Scratch and the owlbear cub huddled next to one another, sleeping soundly. You smile softly, your heart melting that they are bonding so well with one another. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you leave the camp and head into the nearby forest.

In a moment in time when there were so many new feelings and unfamiliar things around you; from being abducted by illithids, seeing the hells, waking up in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere, and having an uninvited guest in your brain, the forest provided comfort. No matter where in Faerûn, trees will always be trees, the dirt path made by countless feet that trekked forward in their journeys, made you feel less alone and confused. Walking over bushes, you decide to mindlessly wander, not worrying about the pain in your feet or where you end up. There weren’t many sounds in the dead of night, other than the wind that shook the leaves and bushes, the distinct animal noises of nocturnal animals, and your footsteps. You don’t pay much attention to it, however, rather you choose to blank entirely. The traveling and battles from earlier in the day left you mentally exhausted, as well as physically but that was neither here nor there since you were always physically tired or sore, your mind was left both restless yet still. An internal paradox that you found yourself in recently. Much of how your relationship with Shadowheart was a paradox in itself. While it was difficult to say that you were in love with the mysterious woman, especially since it had not been too long since you two had met, it wasn’t hard to conclude that a part of you consistently yearned for her. Desired to hear the sound of her voice, to feel her gaze upon you, to comb her hair as it rested upon her shoulders, to have her touch you in ways that no other before has. A part of you dreamed that she could one day let you into her mind, into the deepest darkest parts of her mind, where you would find solace there as just she wormed her way into your mind. A constant plague that you could not rid of, not that you wanted to.

However, that was the lingering problem that shifted the foundation of what could be. The beliefs that you both hold make you enemies by default. The very belief that a sharran and a selunite even being friendly was unheard of. Nevertheless, you befriended one, hell you even kissed one, something that younger you would stress about, wondering if you were turning to the Lady of Loss. Not that you would, you find that the beliefs of your dear moon maiden held were truly a resonate of your own, and you weren’t saying that since you grew up with it. From your very limited understanding of the Lady of Loss, you found the very idea of wallowing in the dark with no hope seemed very unhealthy. From what Shadowheart told you, which was also as limited since her memory was removed, it seemed that Shar was lying to her followers, saying that she was easing their pain when in reality she was just adding to it.

‘How could she worship a goddess that causes her to be left in the dark and pain,’ You wonder, looking at the ground as you walk and begin to pursue your lips. Eventually, you begin to slow down, coming to a full stop at the texture change from under your shoes. You look up and see a lake, one that is possibly connected to camp, as the moon dances on the water, light ripples distorting the image. Breathing in the sight, you consider undressing and wandering into the water, before shaking the thought. While it was tempting, you find that it would be a hassle putting your clothes back on. Instead, you kick off your sandals and roll up the legs of your pants, and wander to the water before seating yourself down, just far enough to where your butt won’t get too wet. There you sat for a while, taking in the sight, smell, and sounds of the area around you. You feel your mind slow down, your eyes getting heavy at the comfort of the water as it rocked and kissed higher on your calf. Just as you were about to leave yourself completely vulnerable to the wilderness and let your mind wander into the night sky, a voice rang through your ears.

“Well, I certainly did not expect you to be so far from camp.”

Your eyes shot up, startling you awake. You don’t know who you were expecting when you turn your head, however, the last person that comes to mind is Shadowheart. Her hair was down from its chain and braid as it rested over her shoulder and draped to her mid-back. With that being the only outlier, Shadowheart looked the same as how she did the night before. Even though you wanted to say something, your mind was too slow to react, so you just looked at her. Embarrassed that you could not utter a sound, you turn your attention back to the lake. She chuckles, a noise that reaches your ears and tickles them ever so slightly, and you feel your ears and face get warm. Focusing solely on the lake and the reflection of the moon, you could only listen as she shuffled behind you. Far too nervous to catch her gaze, but still nipping with curiosity at what she is doing, you look at her from the corner of your eyes.

Not paying you any mind, she sat next to you, albeit a bit away from the water, which you assume was because she was not in favor of getting wet. Nervous that she will catch your gaze, you look away once more as the wind starts to softly blow. The both of you sit there in silence, unaware of what Shadowheart is thinking and you are far too nervous to break the silence, lest you say the wrong thing.

‘Truthfully, what is the wrong thing to say?’ You mentally quip to yourself, ‘Rather…what is the right thing to say…Should I break the silence? Does Shadowheart have something to say? Why is she also out here? Did she foll-’

“Was..there any particular reason you left camp?” Shadowheart asks, her voice stopping your thoughts. You look at her, a stunned look on your face. You were astonished at the fact that she was actively engaging in conversation rather than avoiding it. She is facing forward but looking at you from the corner of her eyes. Feeling your face get warm at her stare, you turn your head once again.

“I just..wanted some fresh air…” You murmur, bringing your knees closer to your chest and hugging them. You didn’t think to elaborate further, finding your reasoning sound enough. If you were completely honest with yourself, you were being slightly petty due to her avoidance. Shadowheart, who seemingly accepted the reasoning, sighed to herself, in a way that could be depicted as relief. Although you found it odd, you didn’t bring attention to it, rather resting your head on your knees. You both sat in silence, the sounds of the surrounding area being the only thing that stopped the moment from being dead quiet. Once again, content with the peace, you feel your eyes drooping once more.

“You didn’t come out here to meet anyone?” Shadowheart asks, breaking the silence and waking you up once more. Confused by her question and unsure if you even heard her correctly, you turn your body and look at her. She was actually looking at you, her head turned in your direction. Although it might have been your mind playing tricks on you or wishful thinking, it seemed that her eyes were a green of jealousy. Nonetheless, she blinks and it seems that she hid whatever emotion she was harboring.

“What? Why would I come out here to meet someone?” You ask her, as she shrugs and turns her head away from you, looking at the lake again. Thinking you weren’t getting an answer in response, your mind begins to wonder with various questions. Trying to make sense of your thoughts, you let one slip past the barriers of your lips.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” You ask, your voice much softer than you wanted it to be. Sounding much more hurt than you wanted to reveal, your mind and voice wanting to show her how her avoidance pained you. Though you hate to admit it, you are sure your face is showing that pain just as much as your voice did. She doesn’t move, mimicking that of a statute; Neither do you, not to turn to look at her, in fear of her seeing your face and you never getting an answer. You both sit there for a moment, your question leaving you feeling like you just shouted into the void and expecting an answer back.

After a moment, she lets out a breath, seemingly holding it in. As if she was not expecting that question and didn’t want to answer it.

“I do not think we can be together.”

Upon hearing her words, you feel as if your very soul was de-rooted so violently, that it took the very foundation of who you were down. The void answered, with a truth that you avoided and did not want. The truth that haunted you after you kissed her under the moonlight and the stars away from the party. Plagued your mind when you would think of who you were and who she was. It seemed to have shattered every thought, every wish, and every dream you had of holding her and that she hold you in return. With all of the shattering going on in your mind, you cannot utter anything else other than a simple, “Oh.”

“It’s just…” Shadowheart trails off, trying to find her words. She seems to struggle for a bit, so you decide to make it easier for her and leave.

With the hurt of your body and heart and the threat of tears in your eyes, you stand up. Not wanting your not-lover to see you cry, you quickly wipe the tears that were threatening to fall out and sniffle. Washing off your feet of any sand, you place your sandals on and head back to camp, not caring that you are leaving her behind. Not noticing Shadowheart pulled her knees to her chest, as she rested her head into her arms. Unknowing of the inner turmoil that was going on between her mind and her heart; the war between her sprouting care and affection for you and the dedication she has to her faith.

The way back was agonizing, your heart heavy with hurt and your mind yelling for sleep while also overthinking every bit of interaction with Shadowheart. The more you walked, the feeling of more tears threatened to fall and let you shed every ounce of heartache and misery. Picking up the pace, you cannot help but think about your reaction.

Surely you could have handled this way better in theory, but in practice? Was Shadowheart so deeply rooted into your mind, that the mere rejection shattered you whole? Did you crave her affection so badly that even the cold sharp end of a knife stab would have felt better than this? No matter how frigid and distant she was, how did you not lose an ounce of interest in her? Would you betray your goddess, just to be within Shadowheart’s gaze?

It seemed that as you asked more questions to yourself, the lack of answers seemed to spiral into more questions. However, you knew that you would never be able to answer the questions that spiraled in your mind. Eventually, you stumbled upon the camp, seeing Astarion was the only one up and about. His eyes turned to you, gaze softening at the sight of you rather than a rabid animal or an enemy trying to attack in the night. Upon seeing your expression, one of anguish and with tears already falling, his face morphs into concern for a moment before blanking.

“Did something happen, o’ fearless leader?” He asked, using the nickname he used to tease you once you were bestowed the mantle of leader. Maybe calling you your nickname was his way of comforting you. Not that you stood around long enough to find out. Rather than answering him, you decide to go straight into your tent. He makes a noise, one that sounds like he wants you to stop, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

Once inside your tent, you head to your sleeping bag and tuck yourself under it. Not wanting to wake everyone, but also needing to let out your emotions, you opt to cry silently into your hands. Trying whatever way to muffle your sobs as they wracked through your body. Curled up into yourself, you eventually fall into a dreamless sleep.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Upon waking up, you immediately notice the sunlight is more prominent through your tent's fabric. Finding this odd, you immediately sit up and try to leave your tent as fast as you can. Crawling to the tent flap, you squint your eyes at the bright light of the day, noticing that it is far past the normal time you awoke. You look up to confirm your suspicions and see that the sun is most definitely showing it was later in the day, almost to the midpoint of the sky. As you crawled out of the tent, emerging from the cocoon of emotions you barracked yourself in last night, you saw Wyll making his way to you. It took you a bit to stand up fully, while your body was mostly recovering from the longer-than-average rest, it was still sore from the battles and wandering you and your party had been doing these past weeks. The horned man was already in front of you by the time you stood tall, patiently waiting.

“Good morning,” He smiles softly at you. You nod back, your mood still somewhat in shambles due to your previous night's adventure. Rather, you had more pressing matters to attend to, such as-

“Why did no one wake me up?”

Wyll doesn’t say anything but stares at you with the same look.

“Astarion told us what happened last night,” He starts. Afraid of where this was going, you feel your heart and stomach plummet through the ground, possibly landing in the Underdark somewhere. Wyll seems to take notice of the mild panic on your face and corrects himself. “Rather, he told us you came back to camp a wreck. He told us he was unsure what could have distressed you so. Karalach and Gale were the ones to suggest that we leave you to rest.”

With his explanation, you start to relax a little bit. Of course, Asartion would tell everyone. Though you know you couldn’t be too angry at him, rather fond of the fact that he was worried. It warmed you a bit that even though the vampire elf kept his emotions to himself for the most part, he ditched that belief for just a moment and expressed worry. You make a mental note to thank him and work towards a better friendship with him. Pushing that thought to the back of your mind along with any residue of yesterday evening, you smile softly at Wyll.

“I appreciate that, thank you.” Your voice sounds way more stable than you thought it would be. “Though, in the future, I would appreciate being woken up, even if there is concern for me. After all, we don’t know how much time we have before the whole tadpole thing turns us into illithids.”

Wyll doesn’t say much, just hums and nods, before being called by Lae’zel. He whips his head before turning back to you with a shy smile, one that you return with your smile and shoo him away. He scampers to Lae’zel, leaving you alone still standing in front of your tent. You sigh and relax your body a bit before you head to go to the stash of food the camp keeps. After not eating much throughout the previous day, it was starting to catch up with you with your stomach growling. At the stash, you begin to look for something quick to fuel you before you attempt to cook anything. Finding nothing that piqued your interest, you decided to head into the forest to see if there was anything edible. As you were heading to leave the camp alone, you passed Karalach, whose back was to you. You step towards her and begin to call out to her, however before you can utter a sound you step on a branch, alerting her to your presence. Turning to the source, Karlach seems to move away from what-who she was interacting with. Just beyond Karalach was Shadowheart, with a look you cannot describe. You spend a while looking at her, so many mixed feelings rushing to you faster than anything you can describe. Before you got swept away in the tidal waves of emotions, Karlach’s voice snapped you out of the trance you were in.

“Hey, soldier! How are you holdin’ up?” While her face had a big smile on it, it also had a look of concern. Turning your attention to the buff tiefling, you put on a strained smile before answering her.

“Better now that I’ve had more than 4 hours of sleep.”

“Really?” Her shock was evident, as she shifted slightly so the front of her body was facing you. She makes a glance to Shadowheart, something you feel you cannot stomach to do at the moment. You nod and respond.

“Yeah…I was just about to head off.”

“All alone?” Shadowheart says for the first time. Her voice rings in your ears as you feel your knees go weak for a moment. You cannot help but want to ignore her, to give her a taste of how she has made you feel; however, you decide against it, being in front of someone else.

‘That doesn’t mean I have to look at her.’ You reason to yourself before looking to the forest, trying not to make it obvious that you were avidly avoiding looking at her. “I wasn’t going to go far. Just wanted something light.”

Nothing is said for a moment before Shadowheart speaks again.

“I’ll go wi-”

“There is no need. I can go alone.” You cut her off, your voice coming off more harshly than you expected it to. However you couldn’t find it in yourself at that moment to apologize, rather you say your quick goodbyes and leave. In your absence was a puzzled Karlach at the thick tension between yourself and Shadowheart. She doesn’t say much, still feeling the tension, quickly making up an excuse before leaving. In her wake was a Shadowheart who was staring off in the direction you took off in. Left in the shadow that she herself had cast upon you.

However this time, the reason for it was known, and she had no one to blame but herself.

#shadowheart x tav #shadow x reader #im going crazy #this took forever #anyways #shadowheart is bad a feelings #like really bad #angst???#at least it's my attempt at it #☾adoniswrites

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scarredwithcruelintentions · 12 days

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chapter 6: ruination and regret

Find the master list here!

CW: Too many feels, emotional manipulation and allusion to past trauma.

W/C: 3,890

A/N: Thank you for all of your likes, comments and reblogs! They make my day! Enjoy!

The day had been harrowing to say the least. The whole party had ventured out together to take on the goblin encampment, and had they not all set forth, he was sure none who had would’ve made it back. He could only remember bits and pieces of the mission, so wracked with nerves and adrenaline as he was.

He remembered his awe at the skillful, deceptive manner in which you’d talked your way into the raid celebration; the searing pain in his skull and the voice of the ‘Absolute’ commanding abeyance at the bridge to entry before the little contraption Shadowheart carried around silenced it once again.

He remembered saving the ridiculous and terrible bard’s hide. He’d disagreed with your motion to help the idiot, but had ultimately been outvoted. Some case you’d made about ‘kindred spirits’, or the likes, had garnered enough sympathy from the rest to warrant standing idly by as you picked a fight with an ogre. He’d never admit it, but the rush of the ensuing fight had made saving the silly little man worthwhile.

He remembered a sense of pride at watching you command authority over the goblins guarding the temple doors, once again talking yourself into a place you didn’t belong, though the goblins were none the wiser. He remembered the way you’d expertly manipulated the priestess into giving you a private audience, and then ran your sword clean through her in her own chapel.

You’d had far less propriety with the drow, something fierce and dangerous sparking behind your eyes at the sight of her. You’d simply walked up, blade in hand, and brought your arm down in a swift and brutal arc over her front. Despite your surprise attack, she was not as easily felled as the priestess, and your stunt had earned the group another raging fight over your insolence. He’d found himself preoccupied by you throughout, fighting without finesse as he bore witness to the formidably masterful way you wove your magical artistry alongside your weapon attacks to create a devastating and beautiful offensive assault.

He remembered the distractingly delicious smell of your blood on the air, too absorbed in the warm comfort it brought him to notice the way your strikes had gone sloppy, your dodges glacially slow by comparison, as the group engaged the final horde.

He remembered the falling curve of the hobgoblin leader’s war hammer, as if in slow motion, and the sickening crunch of your skull echoing in the sudden and vast emptiness of his mind.

He remembered watching helplessly, transfixed in horror, as you crumpled to the sticky cobblestone of the temple floor, the fragrant essence of your life force that he’d come to know so intimately spilling in a hapless and rapidly spreading pool around you.

He remembered the deafening roar of shocked silence at the sight of you, so small and vulnerable at the monster’s feet, your beautiful countenance dulled by the pallor of death.

He remembered registering the piercing sound of a feral scream, remembered being spurred into action by it. Remembered the fury and the fear that pushed him to take life indiscriminately, reveling in the gratuitous bloodshed at his hands as he brutalized a path to your limp form. Remembered slaying all who came near with reckless abandon, almost taking Shadowheart out when she made to cast a healing incantation on you.

Remembered thrashing against the excruciating heat of Karlach’s arms as she hauled him backwards, intent upon fighting his way back to your side no matter the cost. The placating gestures of his other companions as he rushed to hold your slight frame, platitudes of ‘It’s over’ and ‘Let us help’ bouncing off the wall of his despair as he hissed at them to keep their distance. The poorly hidden grim expression drawing Shadowheart’s face into gaunt severity as she assessed the state of you from afar, any attempt she made to come nearer met with his rabid hostility.

The feel of Lae’zel’s swordpoint at his nape and Karlach’s burning hands fisted in his doublet as he was dragged away mercilessly, the shrill and penetrating sound of mourning ringing in his ears.

It was not until much later - long after you’d been revived and the last embers of the celebratory bonfire had guttered out - that Astarion realized the tortured wail he’d heard as he was wrenched from your motionless, cold body was that of his own. The lack of your warmth to guide and protect him, however fleeting, turned out to be an agony far more unfathomable than that of his plan’s ruination. ______________________________________________________________

Despite Shadowheart’s use of the Revivify incantation, your wounds continued to pain you and your skin had a sickly dullness to it that rivaled that of a plague infected pauper. He was more than sure that even his mortal counterparts could hear the stressed whistle of your breath past your lips as the party trudged in the direction of the Grove. Everyone continued to glance worriedly at you as you winced and gritted your teeth through the pain of movement. For your part, you continued to refuse any offers of helping hands, pride making you stubborn.

Astarion would have found it amusing had he not found it disconcerting. You’d done so much for all of them, himself included, but could not accept help for yourself. It pointed to a deeper, more traumatic motivation than he was comfortable putting his finger on. He chose to remain quiet instead, eyeing you carefully should your ability to continue onward falter.

When it inevitably did, he was at your side in an instant, beating even the hulking Elven druid in his wide and sweeping reflexive strides. He did not even have the wherewithal to chuckle to himself at the many disappointed expressions on the surrounding faces. You were his only concern, and he could smell the fatigue in what little blood had been restored to you. Ignoring your weak protests, he swept you into his arms with the strength of a man ten times his size and carried you the rest of the way to the Grove, warmth spreading from his chest when he recognized the evening out of your fitful, waking breaths into those of dreamless sleep.

Back at the Grove and with access to all of his magical medicinals, Halsin, Nettie and Shadowheart worked in tandem to restore your battle weary body to full health. It took quite some skill and patience, but it was managed, and he watched your expression with keen eyes, looking for any hidden signs of discomfort. Finding none, Astarion breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, feeling as though a heavy burden of sorrow had been lifted from him.

After some discussion with Halsin and the retrieval of the group’s reward, you sought out Zevlor to convey the news of the goblin leaders’ demise. It appeared, however, that the whole of the Grove already knew, as the tieflings were gathered en masse just inside the gate, hugging and shouting and laughing with their relief. The exiled Hellrider held out a meager coin purse, which you turned down vehemently.

Were he sure it would not reflect badly upon his character to reach out and take it in your stead, he might have done so. As it stood, Astarion ruefully averted his gaze from the little bag, jaw muscles working to hold his snide remarks safely behind his teeth. Just as he thought that things could get no worse, the tiefling leader suggested he and the others put on a celebration that night at camp.

Backwards as it was, you accepted the invitation graciously, though he could see a wariness hidden behind the warmth of your gaze. He was proud to have managed not more than a tired sigh at the refugee’s overzealous gratitude, eyes nigh on rolling out of their sockets as a chaste kiss was placed on the backs of your bloody knuckles. And he thought his own actions insultingly obsequious.

With a tiefling entourage, you led the group of exhausted adventurers out of the Grove gate and the short distance back to the campgrounds that he’d come to find some comfort of familiarity in, even with its lack of lavish accommodation. Had Astarion been a more sentimental man, he might even consider the little stretch of land to be home. He tried not to think too hard about the implications of that errant musing.

Once at camp, the tieflings began to set up for the impromptu celebration while the intrepid adventurers washed and rested. More than anything, he wanted to fall into the dreamless trance of his meditative state, but the ruckus of the tieflings made any real rest all but impossible. His mind wandered to you, those icy tendrils of dread constricting his chest for a moment at the memory of your death. He resigned to sit just in the mouth of his tent, eyes trained on your bloodied form as you darted from one guest to the next, providing help where it was needed.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind’s eye, the fear of your demise continued to dog him, and the small voice in his head that demanded he solidify his importance to you reminded him of his ill-conceived notion of seducing you. It persuaded him to move forward with the next phase this evening, a feeling of wary excitement washing over him at the thought. As though reading his depraved mentation, your eyes found his in that moment, and you flashed him a tired but sweet smile. He felt a small smile grace his face in return, and he nodded his head in acknowledgment. Satisfied, you turned back to your task.

He supposed he ought to make his way over to the druid to have his wounds seen to. He heaved a sigh and stood with some effort, eyes continuing to track your petite form as you disappeared into your tent. He watched you emerge with a bundle of cloth in your arms, smelling the fragrant soap you loved so much. A flare of arousal shot through him, his mind wandering to the night he’d caught you bathing.

His stomach lurched at the memory, though with desire or disgust, he couldn’t tell. He reached the elf just as you bid the camp a temporary farewell and strode away to wash. It had been a long day indeed, and he lamented at the continued slow stretch of time before he would be able to set to his task. ______________________________________________________________

Afternoon turned to dusk, and dusk to dark as the camp roared to life with celebration. The tieflings and his companions alike made merry together, dancing and singing and drinking with reckless abandon. He thought it silly, knowing the grueling journey still to come. So much death and loss, and still the little mortals found reason to be joyous. He presumed that this was what mortals figured they must do, celebrate whatever it was they were afforded, as their lives were fleeting in the grand web of the cosmos. He loathed their naivety, loathed his wisdom and knowing of life’s many pains.

Loathed just how shattered his perception of humanity had become.

He sipped gingerly at the terrible wine provided as he held back from the crowd, gaze following you as you flitted about the camp, taking stock of all there and thanking them for the lively party. He heard all of the honeyed words spoken to you, a twist of disdain marring the lines of his face. It seemed he had more competition for your hand than he’d thought; even the tieflings made their passes, hoping to grace your bedroll that night in thanks.

You politely declined every advance, much to his relief, and continued your rounds about the guests. He listened in on your low conversation with Zevlor, his voice heavy and pained with loss. He watched your small hands grasp the Hellrider’s, much the same as you’d held his not so long ago, and that tumultuous green monster in his gut forced an unbidden low growl from his throat. Thankfully, he was too far from the action for anyone to discern his ire. The tiefling leader merely expressed his gratitude for your assistance and strode away.

His gaze followed you to Alfira, listening contentedly to the peals of your laughter like so many tinkling feywild bells as she suggested writing a ballad of your heroics. You sat with her, cradling your lyre like a newborn, and played bawdy tunes of frivolity and bliss. A growing crowd gathered to listen, singing along where the words were known and listening intently where they were not. He found himself gravitating towards the fray, some invisible pull drawing him to be nearer to you.

He stopped just at the edge of it and stood quietly by Shadowheart, who eyed him with a knowing smirk. He scowled at her, snickering when she rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine.

“Something catch your eye, leech?” she drawled.

“Only all of the foolish food laid before me, blood rife with drunkenness and unwarranted gaiety,” he quipped back.

“Naturally. While more cheerful than I’d prefer, loss is indeed a thing to be celebrated. The Dark Lady graces us this day,” she nodded.

Astarion held his tongue, a biting retort just at the tip of it.

Shadowheart sighed into his silence, continuing, “Any plans to take a bed partner tonight?”

She turned to look at him fully, brows raised in a quizzical expression. He moved to mirror her, face betraying nothing more than amusement.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, my darling Cleric,” he chuckled.

Shadowheart’s expression softened uncharacteristically, her voice lowering to match, “I see the way you look at her. It’s the same as we all do. There is much to be admired there.”

He nearly spluttered, so taken aback by her sudden change in countenance.

“I suppose there is,” was all he said in response. With that, the conversation ended.

He turned his attention back to you, noting the lull in the music, and piped up from his place at the back of the crowd.

“Would you be so kind as to grace us with The Lament for That Which Is Lost, my dear? I believe all of this whimsy is in need of tempering.”

Your eyes snapped to him, a question held in your now-somber gaze. He nodded imperceptibly and watched as your shoulders sagged with the weight of reality. You looked to Alfira, who shook her head with a perplexed tilt to her brows. You heaved a great sigh, and he could smell the inquisitive trepidation floating along the breeze as you began to pluck your sorry tune.

He closed his eyes, the smell of sadness heavy in the air, and hummed along with your lovely voice. He could hear the start of quiet sobs and sniffles from all those before him and felt a sudden pang of guilt at ruining their moment of jubilation. Worst of all, he could smell the agony and unease pouring from you, fragrance more poignant than the rest. Though your voice did not waver once, he could tell from your choked breaths that tears flowed freely from you.

As the song came to a close, he opened his eyes and looked around. All of the tiefling guests held each other close, exhaling their grief into the surrounding atmosphere. He saw Alfira lean forward to hug you, and you melted into her arms, shoulders slumped and shaking with your sorrow. Even Shadowheart dashed tears from her eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Alfira marveled, her own eyes glassy and dripping. “Would you teach me sometime?”

“Of course, my dear friend,” you responded with a watery laugh. You then turned to address the group.

“While it is pertinent to remember all that has been sacrificed for this victory, tonight is a night of celebration. We should never forget the cost of what it took to get here - I’m not sure any of us even can - but we must remember ourselves. Even in the face of loss, we have held onto the strength to carry forward in their memory, just as they would want us to. Now, I bid you go enjoy yourselves. Eat, drink and be merry, just as they would, were they here to join us.”

With a hearty cheer, the party returned to its former resplendence, though not without a small amount more solemnity. He attempted to slink away, unprepared for your disdain in the face of his actions. He was once again reminded of just how little of his autonomy he’d held as Cazador’s spawn - his slave - and just how much he did not belong among this rag-tag group of do-gooders.

“If it was my attention you wanted, you could have just asked,” you quipped from behind him. He could feel your scrutinizing gaze as his shoulders slumped infinitesimally lower in dejected self pity.

He turned to face you, chewing his words carefully before responding.

“This sort of revelry is a bit garish, don’t you think?” he asked, trying to salvage whatever dignity he might still hold in your eyes.

“Not at all. A hard battle was won, and this lot can finally move onward with their lives. Build homes, families. Learn to be grateful, to love living again.”

Your gaze penetrated the very depths of his soul, and he feared what you might find there. Was it just as much a bottomless, dark void as he thought it to be? He felt the swelling tide of panic clawing at his insides, and fought to keep his grip on the reality of the moment. Logic told him you could see no more of him than he of you, and he could not feel the tadpole squirming behind his eye, nor the telltale fuzziness of thought detection magic. Those truths lent him the strength to maintain his composure.

“Besides,” you added, a curious tilt to your head, “I don’t believe you’d think that for a moment. When have you ever been one to turn down a little revelry over bloodshed?”

A wave of icy fear nearly consumed him at your accusatory words - until he caught the uptick of a smirk on your lips. He breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, widening smile gracing his own face.

“Truthfully, I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they’d toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here…”

You raised a quizzical brow as he swigged the sour wine.

“I hate it. This is awful!”

The bark of your surprised laughter was worth his flippant antics. Your smirk had turned into a wry grin, no doubt mirroring his own.

“You’re terrible, Astarion,” you giggled. “Is it truly so bad? Think of all the goblins you killed! Surely that must count for something!”

You hid your snickering behind your hand, and his expression softened some, finding joy in making you laugh.

“True enough, I suppose. That was fun! Still, I would have liked more for my trouble than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine,” he sniffed playfully, barely containing his own giggles.

“Give me that, you bloody scoundrel,” you chuckled, snatching the wine from his grasp. Your fingers grazed his as you clasped the neck of the bottle, and he watched a slight shiver run through you as you brought the mouth of it to your lips, taking a great gulp. He watched the line of your throat bob with each swallow, spilled rivulets running from the corners of your mouth and down the exposed column of flesh.

He licked his lips unconsciously, the movement reflexive as he trained his gaze on the translucent trails of redness disappearing into the bosom of your dress, stains blooming along the neckline…how he wished he could follow them with his tongue and leave a different dribble of red in their wake.

He was broken from his reverie by your heaving gasp, having finally broken your mockery of a kiss.

“Have you no taste, dear Star? A full-bodied, dry red. I would’ve thought you’d like anything of the sort,” you smirked at him, still panting with breathlessness. Your eyes had glazed some with the haziness of the alcohol swirling in your blood. He wondered briefly if you would taste different while soused - and then caught the heavy-lidded heat in your eyes, your words registering as bold flirtation, as bold as you’d been with him.

Now is my chance.

“I have plenty of taste, darling. I’ve been eating you, after all,” he purred. His sly grin only widened as your cheeks heated further, desire chasing the warmth of the wine in your system.

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” he continued, intonation rich and low, enticing you to draw closer in order to hear his words.

“Knowing you?” you giggled, “Most likely.”

“Come now, don’t be so sour,” he tutted, “I like a good time as much as anyone.”

His voice had become more vibration than sound, the gravel of it surprising even him. That disorienting fire had ignited low in his belly, and he found himself almost eager to ask you to lie with him.

“You know,” he murmured, “we could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little…closer, so to speak.”

As if heeding his own words, he drifted ever nearer to you, reaching out to take the half-empty wine bottle from your grasp. His fingers purposely brushed over yours, and he reveled in the shudder that wracked through you, a small noise catching in your throat. He bit back at the groan that threatened to bubble up from his own.

“Maybe…” you breathed. After a brief pause of thought, you added, “If you say ‘please’.”

“What?”

He could not hide his shock at your request, your eyes unwavering in their seriousness despite your stifled giggle. He steeled himself, the sound of your laughter lending him the courage to proceed.

“Please,” he whispered.

A flash of surprise etched its way across your features, followed by an almost imperceptible tightening of your jaw and hardening of your gaze. You held yourself rigidly, hardly daring to breathe against whatever onslaught of discomfort had overcome you.

“While a most tempting offer, I’m afraid I must decline.”

Though you continued to smile pleasantly at him, there was a hollowness to it that had not been present before. He faltered momentarily, perplexed by your response and unsure of what to do next. Should he press you? The thought left him dizzy with abhorrence.

Recovering himself, he gave you a stiff and shallow bow.

“As you wish, my sweet. The offer stands, should you change your mind.”

“I’ll remember that,” you said, voice devoid of the fondness you’d so openly displayed just moments before.

With that, you spun on your heel and traipsed away, bidding everyone a good night and disappearing into your tent.

Astarion was rooted to the spot as he watched your retreating form, dumbstruck by your sudden change in demeanor and swift exit from the conversation. The camp had begun to quiet as the darkness of night deepened, the growing number of visible stars telling of the late hour. He gazed morosely into the dying embers of the once roaring bonfire, wondering just where he’d gone wrong.

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