Hello and welcome to my BG3 Fanfiction Masterlist! Here's my small (so far) collection of fics that I have written, mainly with Astarion/Tav but Rolan has also taken over my brain space so he's featured heavily as well.
The Dark Minstrel (Series) - A collection of fics featuring my female drow bard Tav, Phaere Vrinn.
○ A Sonnet of Spiders (Main Story) - Rated M - Incomplete
Starting in Act 2, Phaere meets the drider, Kar'niss, and comes face to face with her past as a noble of house Melarn. Featuring her developing relationship with Astarion and Halsin, and sibling dynamics with Kar'niss.
○ Sing for Me, Dance for Me, Eyes on Me - Rated E - Complete
A oneshot detailing Phaere and Astarion's first time.
○ Pianissimo - Rated M - Complete (?)
A two-shot (so far) showcasing Phaere and Halsin showing Astarion how to enjoy nonsexual intimacy. Set in Act 2 and Act 3.
○ Caesura - Rated E - Complete
The night before the final push to the Netherbrain, Phaere, Astarion, and Halsin enjoy an intimate night together.
Light Years Away (In the Hells) (Series) - A collection of fics set in a modern AU around my tiefling shapeshifter Tav, Vox.
○ Hands in the Fire (Main Story) - Rated E - Incompelete
Astarion visits the mysterious nightclub, The Devil's Den, and meets an enigmatic tiefling shapeshifter. Interestingly, within the walls of the club, Astarion can no longer feel Cazador's compulsion.
Fetch the Bhaal (Series) - A collection of fics centered around my tiefling sorcerer Dark Urge, Karvir.
○ Hold the Light - Rated E - Incomplete
A short story detailing Rolan slowly falling for the himbo golden retriever durge, Karvir.
Miscellaneous Oneshots
○ Period. - Rated E - Complete
Astarion eats reader!Tav out while they're on their period. That's it. That's the fic. My first forray into BG3 fics.
○ Unconventional Surprises (in Love) - Rated T - Complete
Written for the Elturian Tiefling Camp Valentines Day Exchange. Rolan has been separated from his loves, Tav and Astarion, for six months. On the night they're set to return, he tries to surprise them with an over-the-top romantic gesture. Everything goes horribly wrong. Shameless fluff.
○ Arcane Arousals - Rated E - Complete
Reader is a Wizard, now working/living at Sorcerous Sundries/Ramazith's Tower with Rolan after the Netherbrain's defeat. You've noticed he has a thing for you, but the insufferable brat won't do anything about it. You decide to take manners into your own hands and tease him until he snaps. Just shameless filth.
Putting my favourite Rolan act 1 devnotes under the cut but like the varying between appreciation and roasting him lmaoo "a smug dickhead" T_T
I do think these are very useful for characterisation though obviously they're guidance rather than mandatory readings
In the Grove:
Firstly, important context of Cal and Lia being siblings but Rolan is not. Notes for Cal particularly mention the argument being between his sister and his friend. "Lia and Cal are brother and sister, but the three of them have grown up together."
When Rolan concedes to stay, "You know you've lost and you are NOT being gracious. Rolling your eyes - you love them both but are playing up you staying - like you're doing them a favour."
the "would you deny your brother a chance at his fortune" etc bit - You know the argument is likely going your way and you're being a little bit of a dick here. You know mentioning Lia's brother is a guarantee that she'll give in to your side and leave with you. It's a bit of an underhanded move.
When Rolan is like DAMNATION WE SHOULD HAVE LEFT BY NOW it's like "Annoyed and frustrated. Having a little bit of a tantrum, to be honest. Not used to not getting his way."
but also when he speaks of his talent, "He has truly has worked his ass off to get here."
and if certain races don't know who Lorroakan is and he says "forgive me. Of course someone like you wouldn't know" and the notes say "You think you're being kind but you're just being a condescending dick"
if Tav suggests Rolan goes alone, he says "I couldn't abandon [Lia]. No matter how prestigious the apprenticeship." Note: "This clearly bothers you much more than you are trying to show. You love Lia but it pains you not to be in Baldur's Gate"
Camp party:
Here it does refer to the three of them as brothers and sister :)
Rolan telling Tav that Cal and Lia love his fireworks "A rare moment of love and sincerity"
brief moment at the tiefling party to be like sincere about how nice it is that they didn't die and then "and back to being a smug dickhead" when he starts talking about Lorroakan again T_T
the line about the party not being his idea of fun but being forced to lower his expectations: "you're actually enjoying yourself but you can't NOT be a smug dickhead" GET HIS ASS
I read them here. Rolan files mainly use "Prodigy"
I always see posts about people saying you shouldn’t be writing fanfic when you hit 30 or it’s embarrassing or sad or blah blah (insert one of a million things used to belittle people over what they love), but like...
Who do you think writes a good chunk of your favorite fanfiction? Or who runs the sites that you post fanfic on? If we all felt ashamed of doing things we loved, we would all be miserable and the world would be less for not having that passion and love of the craft on display.
I don’t know about those people but I feel no shame over the things I love. Try it sometime. You’ll be happier.
My entry for George Taylor's Rolan Art Contest on twitter. True to form I waited until the last minute to finish it. This one was fun but also it was much regret to do 3 full figures.
Rating: Explicit
Category: M/M
Pairing: Rolan/Tav; Rolan/The Dark Urge
Status: In Progress
Chapters: 2/5
Word Count: 12,814
Tags:
Named Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Sorcerer Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Sorcerer Tav (Baldur's Gate), The Dark Urge Resists the Urge (Baldur's Gate), Male Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate), Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Slow Burn, ish, Developing Relationship, Relationship Builds Over All Three Acts, Rolan is a Gay Disaster, Dark Urge is a Gay Disaster, they're both disasters, Eventual Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Rolan (Baldur's Gate), Canonical Character Death(mentioned) , Spoilers for Quest: The Urge | The Dark Urge Storyline (Baldur's Gate), Drunkenness, Vomiting, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Summary:
Rolan doesn't know what to make of Karvir. The nosy sorcerer with a heart of gold certainly has a tendency to stick his nose where it doesn't belong, but Rolan can't bring himself to actually be annoyed with the so-called leader of the merry band of tadpoled adventurers. Not when Karvir is... well, a couple apples short of a bushel, to put it mildly, with an infectious smile and piercing eyes that transform his scarred, intimidating visage into something warm and genuine that makes Rolan's stomach flip in a way that he never wants to address.
But when Karvir drunkenly tells Rolan a life-changing secret at the tiefling party... well, things get a whole lot more complicated.
AKA: Rolan slowly falls for Karvir-- the 8 INT Dark Urge himbo with golden retriever energy. Shenanigans ensue.
READ ON AO3
Snippet of Chapter 1 under the cut:
"Is this seat taken?" a voice near Rolan's ear brought him out of his musings. He turned over his shoulder to see nothing but blue in his periphery, which could only belong to one person in this entire camp:
Karvir. The so-called ‘leader’ of the odd group of adventurers who had ‘saved the day’. The one who had convinced Rolan to stay at the stupid grove in the first place, instead of abandoning ship and making his way to Baldur’s Gate on his own, goblins be dammed. In hindsight, it might have been a better decision to stay, but the sorcerer would never hear Rolan admit it. Never in a million years.
Mostly because Rolan didn’t know what to think of Karvir in the first place. And thus, he didn’t know how Karvir would handle such an admission.
Karvir was… certainly something, that was for sure. The blue tiefling with the telltale scales of draconic lineage made an imposing picture from a distance—all flowing robes, perfectly coiffed hair, and piercing blue eyes that glowed whenever he cast one of his signature lightning spells. But that distant visage was where the image of the cocksure, confident sorcerer ended. The second Karvir opened his mouth, the intimidation factor fell away, leaving in its wake a… well…
Karvir awoke to a roiling stomach and a splitting headache, lurching bolt upright from a dead sleep with his chest heaving. He blinked blearily as the inside of his tent came into dim focus, barely able to make out the familiar shapes within in the darkness, even with darkvision. Disoriented, he tried to stand to get some air, but a heavy weight across his abdomen stopped him in his tracks:
Rolan.
The earlier events of the night came crashing back to him. Fighting with the urge. Rolan coming to find him after he’d rescued his siblings, insisting that Karvir couldn’t possibly hurt him, even though he’d tried to warn him what was at stake.
Rolan, the stubborn bastard, hadn’t listened to a word, and had kissed him instead.
POV Second Person, Unnamed Tav (Baldur's Gate), Wizard Tav (Baldur's Gate), Location: Sorcerous Sundries (Baldur's Gate), Female Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tav is Not Described (Baldur's Gate), Banter, Mutual Pining, Teasing, Inappropriate Use of Telekinesis, Vaginal Sex, Clothed Sex, Desperation, Sloppy Makeouts, reader is a shit, Wizard Banter, You Tease Rolan Until He Snaps, Feral Rolan, But Still Kinda Submissive, Shameless Smut
Summary:
You're an accomplished wizard and in the wake of the Netherbrain's defeat, the hero of Baldur's Gate. In the aftermath of the mindflayer invasion, you move into Ramazith's Tower with Rolan, technically taking on the role of his 'apprentice', even though you have several years of teaching experience under your belt at Blackstaff, pre-tadpole. Rolan is insufferable, prickly, and very obviously into you, but he hasn't made a single move towards you, and it's starting to drive you just as crazy as his ego is.
So, one day, after taking verbal potshots at each other that wind up with Rolan giving a demonstration of a new spell he's learned... you decide to test his concentration. By any means necessary.
You also want to see just how far you can push the bratty wizard until he snaps.
AKA: You (Tav) tease Rolan until he can't take it anymore and you fuck on the floor. That's it. That's the fic.
READ ON AO3
Snippet Below the Cut
“Rolan, for the last time, Spectres & Spectral Weave Incantations belongs in the Evocation section, not in the Necromancy section,” you chide, plucking the tome from the dusty shelf in Ramazith’s library to pass off to one of several mage hands that float animatedly around the room. The noonday sun streams in the stained-glass windows, and sorting books would be a wonderful, relaxing way to spend an afternoon up here, if it weren’t for the insufferably prickly tiefling wizard insistent on mucking up your carefully-curated organization strategy.
Rolan whips his head around from where he was rifling through books on a different shelf, letting out an irritated huff through his nose. “By Vivri Arevi? The necromancer?” he says, the emphasis on the last word reminding you much of how one would speak to a small child. The tone has your hackles raising already, but more than annoyance is the overwhelming desire to put this pompous arse in his place.
“Just because the author was a necromancer doesn’t mean all of her writings are classified as Necromancy,” you say, directing the mage hand to shelve the book in its proper place across the way, watching as Rolan’s honey-gold eyes follow the hand with annoyance. “Honestly, have you even read the thing? You’d know within the first few pages it’s clearly an Evocation text.”
“I don’t know what kind of time you think I have these days,” Rolan says with a scoff. “But between running the shop and re-organizing this disaster Lorroakan left, there’s little time left in the day to pour over obscure texts.”
“Obscure?” You snort, stepping down from the ladder you’ve been perched on to place your feet on the floor. “That’s a second-year text for students at Blackstaff. I think I could recite the prologue forwards and backwards. Honestly, Rolan, as talented as you are you’re remarkably under-read.”
It’s a cheap shot, sure, and Rolan’s tail thrashes as he glares at you. But after everything you’ve been through together, this kind of bantering is normal for the two of you, and you flash him a teasing grin, even if the gleam in your eyes is a little mean.
“Is that any way to speak to your master, Tav?” he shoots back at you, all sharp teeth and smug satisfaction. Oh. You’re playing ball today, alright.
As the de-facto ‘master’ of the tower, that makes you his apprentice. Although it’s more of an in-joke between the two of you rather than a true master-apprentice relationship. You taught at Blackstaff Academy before you were forcibly abducted by mindflayers and infected with a tadpole. Your abilities zapped, you were forced to save Faerun with little more than a first-year’s spell knowledge, and unfortunately, the full scope of your talents haven’t returned in the wake of the netherbrain’s defeat. You couldn’t very well go back to your old life as an instructor at your level, so you stayed in Baldur’s Gate, Rolan graciously offering you a place to stay at the tower in return for saving his and his siblings’ hides multiple times over.
And so, on paper, you’re technically his apprentice, but it’s in name only. While your spellcasting abilities took a hit thanks to the tadpole, your knowledge certainly didn’t. Considering Rolan is entirely self-taught, you find yourself often teaching him things, when he’s not getting on your nerves or you’re not riling him up, that is. In fact, you’ve both grown as wizards in the last two months of working together, you in power and him in knowledge. It’s been an enjoyable working relationship, to say the least, and his company isn’t bad, either. You almost rather like living at the tower with him and his siblings; it’s less lonely than your solitary teacher’s dormitory back at Blackstaff, that’s for sure.
You eat dinner with him most nights, talking about all things arcane until your food’s gone cold and you’ve both sunk nearly a full bottle of wine. When Rolan isn’t trying to posture, isn’t trying to be the ‘best wizard in the realms’, he’s almost rather charming. You could even consider the two of you close friends.
But that doesn’t mean that Rolan, the bastard, won’t rub in your face that he’s your ‘master’ at any chance he gets.
Which is why it’s now become your hobby to knock this young brat down a few pegs each day.
Finally got my Rolan pics back from Katsucon 2024 and they were well worth the wait! Tansuratphotography knows their stuff! As an eldest brother myself, particularly one with major rejection sensitivity, perfectionist tendencies and never feeling like I'm good enough, plus autism and major anxiety, I relate to Rolan so much.
Drawn for the Fanart competition going on on Twitter, the theme was "Survival".
What better moment to portray than Rolan's fierceness in trying to reach Moonrise Towers and saving his siblings!
A Sonnet of Spiders (Astarion x Tav x Halsin) + Kar'niss Platonic
Rating: Mature
Category: M/F, M/M, Multi/Other
Pairings: Astarion/Halsin/Tav; Dammon/Kar'niss
Status: In Progress
Chapters: 15/?
Word Count (So Far): 59,764
Tags:
Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Drow Tav (Baldur's Gate), Bard Tav (Baldur's Gate), Family ReunionsFound Family, POV Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Exploring Tav's Past, Character Study, Drow Culture (Dungeons & Dragons), Driders (Dungeons & Dragons), Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, POV Tav (Baldur's Gate), Flashbacks, Transformation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Amnesia, Act 2 (Baldur's Gate 3), POV Kar'niss (Baldur's Gate), Memory Loss, Past Relationship(s), Past Tav/OC Relationship
Summary:
“And you?” the drider said, his voice gravel and disdain. “What are you?” There was the briefest hesitation as his many eyes regarded Phaere, then dropped to the lyre that was still clutched in her hands.
“…aside from a dark minstrel." Astarion noticed how Phaere’s shoulders tensed at the term. “One who truly appreciates the beauty of the lyre.”
Astarion heard her take a breath, but before she could speak, he watched as she practically folded in on herself, the tell-tale sign that her mind and parasite had connected with the drider’s.
Then the connection broke, and Phaere stumbled forward. Astarion and Karlach both moved simultaneously, stepping forward to catch Phaere by her arms as her legs gave way and her lyre clattered to the ground.
“Are you alright, darling?” Astarion asked in a hushed whisper. He could hear her heartbeat this close, a quick and steady thud-thud-thud of… something like fear? “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Phaere lifted her head and audibly swallowed.
“…Rylbros?”
Or: A formerly lolth-sworn Drow bard comes face to face with her past. And she must make a choice.
READ ON AO3
Snippet of Chapter 1 under the cut:
“That’s that, then,” Kansif said, seemingly unbothered by Phaere’s cold demeanor. “Simply pluck a tune, and our guide to Moonrise will come scuttling.”
Scuttling? Astarion raised an eyebrow, but was distracted when Phaere lifted the lyre and started to play. She turned towards the vast darkness behind the camp as her fingers plucked the strings in a haunting melody, her eyes drifting shut as she played. Astarion wanted to close his eyes and listen, truly listen, but he was transfixed on her form as she played. He could feel Karlach tapping her foot next to him, sense how Shadowheart wanted to sway to the music even as she stood rigidly rooted to her spot. Even the goblins and the half-orc seemed transfixed on Phaere’s performance.
But then, Astarion heard it. Scuttling, right on cue. He snapped his eyes to the darkness ahead of them, just as a growling, guttural voice broke through the final notes of Phaere’s song.
“Ah yes, I hear them, your majesty. Calling us. Their god and their guide, together.”
Out from behind a twisted tree trunk stepped a hideous creature. Eight spindly legs on a giant thorax, topped with the upper half of a man coated in an armor-like chitin. His face was pale, with two regular eyes colored a deep blood-red, practically glowing in the light of the moonlantern he carried. His other eyes scattered across his forehead and cheek were black as pitch, blinking in a syncopated rhythm as he stepped closer, regarding Phaere with a curious tilt of his head.
Astarion might not be well-versed on Drow, but he knew a drider when he saw one.
“By the Gods. One of Lolth’s abominations,” he breathed. Karlach gave a low whistle, and Shadowheart made a noise of disgust somewhere in her throat.
Phaere simply stood stock-still next to Astarion, her eyes now transfixed on the drider as he approached. He looked as if he’d been in the wilderness for ages—his skin and chitin coated in a layer of dirt and grime. His hair was unkempt, snow white falling over his shoulder in messy waves, similar to Phaere’s at first glance, especially after a particularly bad fight. However, Phaere’s locks held more of a bluish tint, and were a whole lot softer to the touch than this creature’s hair looked—
Now was not the time.
“Greetings, in the Absolute’s name,” said Kansif, earning a sneer from the drider. “You have been charged with—guiding us…” Kansif looked down and away, the drider’s visage likely uncomfortable to look at for too long. Astarion couldn’t blame the poor sod, honestly.
“New flesh for you, my queen,” the drider hissed. “But, who are they?” He was looking over his shoulder as if speaking to an invisible presence, the look on his face flashing between stone-cold clarity and a haze, as if he were going somewhere else for the briefest of moments.
“Looks like he’s madder than a hatter,” Astarion murmured. “Absolutely lovely.” He wheezed a bit as Phaere elbowed him in the ribs, although there was a slight twitch of her lip. So she had found that funny. She wasn’t looking at him, though, her eyes still trained on the drider, her ears twitching as if she was listening to him hard. Astarion couldn’t quite read the look on her face, which was… unnerving, to say the least.
The last time he couldn’t read her easily was when they’d “rescued” and then promptly murdered the True Soul Nere, another Drow that Phaere had toyed with for a few minutes before giving into her rare flashes of anger.
Come to think of it, any time another Drow was involved—and the drider had definitely been a Drow once upon a time—Phaere simply… shut down.
Hands in the Fire (Astarion x Genderfluid!Tav) (Modern!AU)
Rating: Explicit
Category: Multi/Other
Pairing: Astarion/Tav; Other background/side pairings to be added
Status: In Progress
Chapters: 7/?
Word Count (So Far): 36,032
Tags:
Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Tadpoles | Illithid Parasites (Baldur's Gate), Nightclub Setting, Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Half-Incubus Tav (Baldur's Gate), Genderfluid Tav (Baldur's Gate), Nonbinary Tav (Baldur's Gate), The Dark Urge and Tav are Separate Characters (Baldur's Gate), Deal with a Devil, Raphael Being a Bastard (Baldur's Gate), Manipulative Raphael (Baldur's Gate), Many Character Cameos, Vampire Spawn Astarion (Baldur's Gate), POV Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Shapeshifting, Bard Tav (Baldur's Gate), Hook-Up, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Riding, Enthusiastic Consent, Succubi & Incubi, Vampire Bites, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Shapeshifter Tav (Baldur’s Gate), POV Tav (Baldur's Gate), Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Clothed Sex
Summary:
“See something you like?” Vox murmured into his ear. “I forgot to ask what form you might prefer, but the way you’re looking at me says I made the right choice.”
Astarion struggled to catch their meaning at first. “Form?”
Vox twirled around in his arms with a laugh. They shrunk in height, the curls of their horns barely coming up to his shoulders. Soft curves pressed against him where hard planes of muscle had been, and their voice was now a soulful, lilting feminine drawl.
“I can be whatever you want me to be." They rocked their body against Astarion’s before they pulled away again, twisting around to step behind him and change shape again. This form dwarfed his own, broad arms encircling his waist with hands that made him feel downright tiny. The voice in his ear was now deep, rumbling. “In any configuration…” Another shift, and while they were still taller and broader, Astarion felt the press of breasts into his back, heard their voice now as a sultry alto. “…anything your heart desires.”
AKA: The Modern Nightclub AU with big bad Raphael, a plot to create the crown of Karsus and stick it to the Devil himself, and nary a tadpole in sight. Oh, and Astarion falls in love with a half-incubus.
READ ON AO3
Snippet from Chapter 1 under the cut:
He took his wine with a small nod of thanks and paid in cash—Cazador never trusted them with credit cards, no matter how much money his company made—and then turned around in his stool to look out over the dance floor once again. There were so many people it was hard to make out where one person ended and another began, and he was quite certain there were at least a few couples plainly fucking on the dance floor in the middle of the chaos. How scandalous.
Astarion snorted to himself and took a sip of the wine, surprised to find that it actually tasted more like wine than swill. This place did seem upscale, even if the crowd wasn’t, so it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination that they had some pricey suppliers. The glass had cost him a pretty penny, but he had enough money for one or two drinks before he needed to really get to work and find someone to lure away.
He watched the smiling, laughing faces of the dancers and scowled. Unfortunately for one of them, their night of fun would end in being sucked dry by a vampire lord. And none of them were any the wiser.
A pity, really.
A pity that he hadn’t been drained two hundred years ago, instead.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed and the music abruptly shifted to a low hum. Confused, Astarion shifted his gaze to the stage, where it appeared that the DJ in the corner had suddenly disappeared from the booth. In a blink, the center of the stage was awash in pink and purple lights, and an incredibly breathtaking tiefling was standing at the edge, infernal purple eyes glowing under the light as they held their arms up in an elegant pose.
“Do you dare to dance with devils?” the performer purred into their headset microphone in a delightfully masculine voice, the gold charms on their curled, white horns clinking in the background. They wore little more than black, skin-tight leggings with a strappy harness across their ridged chest, gold rings and cuffs circling their clawed fingers and wrists catching the light where they stood. The crowd went nuts at the sound of their voice, screams echoing through the bar area in a deafening roar that had the performer smirking, showing off a mouthful of sharpened, pearly white fangs.
Then they began to sing.
Now, Astarion had heard many a bard in his two hundred years of frequenting seedy bars, clubs, and even a hotel lounge or two. Many could carry a tune, many could even bring a tear to his eye, but no bard had ever sounded like this one. It felt like all the air was sucked out of the room as they crooned into the microphone, the music swelling to accompany them as pale blue magic coiled around their wrists. They started to move around the stage as they sang, their lithe body rolling with ease as they teased the clubgoers closest to the stage with little swishes of their hips and flicks of their tail, also adorned in gold jewelry.
Admittedly mesmerized, Astarion sat with his back against the bar, wine nearly forgotten in his hand, as he watched the performance with rapt attention. The tiefling swirled and danced around the stage, their movements salacious and skilled, rolling their hips with each dirty phrase purred from their lips in a voice that reminded Astarion of a siren’s song. Could they be a siren? It surely seemed plausible—
And then a strange thing happened. The performer did a twirl and then dropped into a split, and their body changed before Astarion’s very eyes. They still held the same white hair, coiffed into a series of braids over their right ear and hanging in loose waves over their left shoulder; the same infernal purple eyes, seemingly staring into Astarion’s soul; and the same upturned nose with what appeared to be a light dusting of freckles, framed with vine tattoos up and down their pale blue skin…
But where the hard planes of a man’s chest had been were now soft curves of breasts, the dip of a narrow waist and wide hips. Their voice, too, changed to a feminine lilt, their pouting lips sparkling with purple lipstick as they crooned and rolled around on the floor of the stage.
Another blink, and the tiefling lifted their hips into the air before they vaulted themselves upright, suddenly bearing a more muscular, masculine form with a chiseled jaw and deeper, booming voice.
Round and round and round they went on the stage, slipping between visages seamlessly, not missing a beat of their song. Astarion clicked his jaw shut when he noticed his mouth was hanging open, clearing his throat even though he logically knew no one was watching him—all eyes had to be on the tiefling on the stage.
“You shouldn’t be here, Astarion,” a voice whispered in his ear, just as a very large presence suddenly made itself known at Astarion’s back. Ice-cold fear gripped Astarion’s heart as he fought with himself about turning around to face the would-be assailant. Had Cazador caught onto his plan and tailed him here with some hired muscle? Was he going to be dragged back underground kicking and screaming?
But then, the figure spoke again, and Astarion finally placed the voice— “I told you it wasn’t a good idea to come back.”
