Anyway~ a small directory of my long fics. Some finished, or some to be worked on.
AO3- Bloogerstien
A Most Unholy Inquisitor- Rated M (Complete)
The Story of Guinevere Trevelyan through DAI. Cullen/FInquisitor.
Another Christmas Movie- Rated T (Complete)
A short fic based around those cheesy Christmas Movies. fShenko.
Duplicity- Rated T (Complete)
Kaidan joins the Normandy (and Cerberus) for the events of ME2. fShenko.
Take Me Home Now- Rated M (To Be Reworked)
The story of post-war Earth, featuring Mary Shepard. fShenko.
Will You Meet Me With the Tide?- Rated T (In Progress, Rating to change)
A collection of post-war, post-TMHN one-shots arranged into chronological order. Follows Mary's story. fShenko.
XIII- Rated E (In Progress)
The story of Tav and Astarion meeting years after the end of BG3. fTavAstarion
this isnt even the full thread, there are even MORE tweets to this thread that i think are really necessary to read if you do what op is talking about! it is not enough to know that feeling this way hurts the people you love, we already know that.
this rest of the thread continues after the third tweet from the reblog.
like THE FULL THREAD is genuinely so reassuring.
sometimes, it is not enough to just know, sometimes you might need that reassurance of "do you really think of me when i'm away?" and someone reassuring you that yeah, they do. and evaluate that! trust that! just like op did.
and then learning that ykw, it's NOT any of my business really. and finding comfort in that trust that like. whether they are or aren't thinking of me, they really do love me.
this full thread changed my life and i am ALWAYS going to give the full thread because the parts people cut out aren't enough for the people experiencing these things, speaking as someone who does. it, really it just makes us, made me, feel bad about my own capabilities when i saw the unfinished thread.
Tav and spawn Astarion, via an accidental Wish spell, end up in another reality where Astarion took the powers offered by the Rite. They are deposited in the lair of the Ascendant Vampire, who has plans for both of them.
TW: Abuse (General)
Ao3
Part One: The Wish
"Fucking wizards," Tav grumbled as she flipped over the rotund figure.
Astarion smirked, doing the easy work of rifling through the man's belongings, "that's sounding an awful lot like prejudice, darling."
"So be it," she huffed dramatically, "I swear, I hear one more comment about my magic being lesser because my head is filled with songs, lewd jokes, and unicorn farts. I'm going to take down an entire wizard school. Just level it. Then they'll learn to fear the bard."
"Well," he remarked slowly, "two of those are correct, but I have the market share of lewd jokes."
"I'll make sure to pull you under the covers when I release those farts, love," She promised with a bow, whirling away with him to inspect the treasure that led them to this defunct temple. It was a slim hope to begin with, following the trail of a myth surrounding the crypts that could lead the ones stupid enough to the temple held high on the cliff top.
This is where they had run into the wizard who had inevitably betrayed them. Thanking them for their hard work at keeping him alive through countless traps and creatures by attempting to blast them with a fireball as he had performed his one act of usefulness- dispelling the ward on the door. Tav could have done that, but no, only the wizard could do it. Gods, she was glad the man turned on them. It gave somewhere for her anger to go. She shook herself off and inspected the basin holding the ring.
She saw no traps and swiped it up. The sunlight caught on the gold band with three central rubies; it hummed with the promise of magic, but it was not what they were after.
Astarion's red eyes probed at her just out of reach of the lazy sunbeam, glinting in the reflection of light he so lusted after. His eyes flickered to watch the swirling motes of dust make their way to the stone below before they returned to Tav, "Anything expensive?"
Tav slipped the ring onto her finger and displayed it for the undead elf to see: "I'm afraid it's not my color."
Astarion clucked. "Don't be afraid now. Bring it closer so I can get a better look. You are—it is better seen up close, then I can really judge if it suits you."
"You just want to claim my bounty," she cooed, "selfish, selfish boy."
He laughed, his body responding to the double entrede; seeing her turn feral with the wizard had done it for him, "You wound me; I have nothing but the best intentions."
"Then come here and prove it," her sultry tone only fueling his desire. Come and claim me—it." She corrected with a tilt of her head.
Astarion straightened, pacing around the beam that kept him from his quarry, his sharp eyes never leaving those tempting curves and sparkling jewels. " Do I take it slowly or all at once? Perhaps I could bend it over and leave a mark," his eyebrow raised, "reminding you of how I robbed you."
Her pupils blew out wide, her delicate throat bobbing as she mulled over his words, her words thick as they spilled out, "I rather like the idea of defiance, so the latter option is fitting."
His red eyes sparkled, and he considered letting the sun burn him for the promise of treasure, his wicked tongue clucking again, "Delightful, we are playing rough today." The vampire's grin turned feral. "But it's a shame I am not the ascended vampire. I would so like to claim you right where you stand."
"I wish we could see the Ascended Astarion," Tav mused.
She collapsed, knees cracking against the cold stone flooring, her body suddenly revolting against the weight of her body as she was helpless to stop her cheek from colliding with the edge of a gold and red embroidered carpet. She was quite sure she did not recall a rug in the dusty temple that nobody had set foot in for centuries, much less for the thing to be intact and clean. Not a good tiding. Had she missed the trap? Fuck, Astarion was never going to let her hear the end of this.
"Sweet hells," behind her, Astarion took in the intimately familiar view of Cazador's throne room, granted a little redecorated and spruced up—a marked improvement. Far less red and far more black.
"Astarion," Tav cried out, her cry only pitching as a gust of wind pushed him out of the sunbeam, threatening to turn him into a little pile of ash. Her petite body shook harder as the stink of death wound its way up her arms and marred her with putrid sludge.
He yanked the rug halfway beneath her toward him and pulled Tav's pallid form into his arms. " Thank you, love."
Both finally looked toward the throne when another familiarity rained down upon both of them. It was lower and shortened, filled with a down-the-nose quality that made Tav want to instinctually punch the face of the person making the sound. Not the high and shrill laugh that she adored, and only pretended to want to punch Astarion for, "That was a little rude; you've just arrived, and you're already trying to ruin the carpet. I would usually wait at least a day before insulting my host."
"Oh shit," Astarion spluttered, witnessing his own face reflected at him.
The Ascendant laughed again, "isn't this a surprise."
Tav tugged at Astarion's arm and helped her to her feet, "Fuck."
"Astute as ever, my love," the stranger leaned forward, his red eyes glinting, his tongue snaking across his lip.
"Excuse me," Tav's eyes narrowed at the reflection of her beloved, her sharp nose scrunching, "But who the fuck are you?"
Astarion's nose pressed into her black hair, nuzzling against the backside of her ear to try and ease the admirable pluck she was demonstrating. To think she was ever a timid and quiet creature. But it had another part to play, muting the gentle rumble of his chuckle. The gentle movement of her muscles hinted at the smile across her freckled face.
The figure languidly moved from his throne, head held high and shoulders set back. The walk of a confident man who knew he owned the room. The stride just as confident as he entered the sunbeam, the bright light casting dark shadows over half of his beautiful features. Red eyes glowing in the sunlight. Never one to give in easily, Tav threw out a glittering wall of red dust that sparkled in the light, forming a glittering wall that extended around this other Astarion. This person touched the walls of his enclosure with a placid expression as Tav screamed, and that putrid stench from earlier wrapped all the way up to her neck and throbbed there before fading back into her skin.
"I'd advise you to stop casting spells," the person remarked with a growing grin, "but we both know how you enjoy being ordered around, even for your own good."
Astarion chuckled at her this time, earning him a sharp glare.
The other Astarion raised his hands, "I mean neither of you harm. I'd hardly want to kill another me, and you're the very reflection of my own treasure. It would break my heart."
She huffed at the man, "You completed the Rite, didn't you?"
"Another astute observation," his gaze settled on the spawn behind her. "I take it you talked him out of power, leaving him a less magnificent bastard than myself?"
"He's perfect," the elf grumbled, "You. You I do not care for."
"Tav," her Astarion gently cooed, pressing a gentle kiss from the back of her ear, "we don't need to be rude."
The other laughed, red eyes refusing to leave the female just out of his reach. "No offense taken. Isn't our Tav the most spirited creature? It is quite… intoxicating."
Tav's opal eyes implored Astarion for help, for a defense of her honor, but he simply squeezed her hip, "If we must compare Tavs, where is your own?"
He waived his hand dismissively, "Off with Wyll and Karlach in the hells, her one desire was to help the tiefling fix her heart, and I could not deny her request. Even if it meant she left me utterly alone." Her nose scrunched, and Astarion's gaze was elsewhere, leading to a long and very awkward silence. The Ascendant's smile just grew as he gave waiting out the moment a fair shot, but he wasn't keen to spend any longer in this cage. "If you'd let me prove I have no bad intentions, that another you has trusted me with their most intimate secrets."
Tav's attention returned to the other, focused razor-sharp on his words, and she took a cautious step toward the cage.
The Ascendant looked delighted, clearing his throat for a servant to come hobbling out, "Codsworth, if you would fetch the young mistress."
"If you've done a damn thing to her, I'll flay you from the cock out," she seethed as she approached the cage, lips pulled back in a feral snarl, "and it will be agonizingly slow."
"You're still just as charming when you're half dead," he laughed again. " Nothing like that, my dear, I assure you."
"Tav?"
She ignored her Astarion's timid plea, "Where was she? How did you find her?"
"A tragic fire at the Myth Drannor; we were lucky you told me in time," the other's tone softened, his head slightly bowed.
"My family is gone?"
"A few months ago," his voice still gentle, "22nd of Eleasis. You are truly the last of the Irithyl line."
Tav stumbled backward into Astarion's arms, who turned her around, both hands desperately cupping her face, "Tav, what in the hells are you two on about?" His rounded red eyes watched the tears slipping from her face, his thumbs trying to gently swipe them away.
"Astarion, I'm sorry I-" she looked away, "fuck, I-." Tav paused again, slipping out of his grasp, "I didn't want you to find out like this; I swear I- fuck."
"Oh, she hasn't—" the other said, earning a glare from both of them. "Well, I didn't mean to cause a spat. I thought she would have told you a long time ago." His hands moved to his hips, and his eyes rolled at their dramatics.
"Told me what?" Astarion advanced on Tav.
Her attention turned to the clicking doorknob and the blurred streak of black and blue that rushed at her knees, the little face colliding with her thigh, "Mom!"
Tav dropped to her knees with a grunt, clutching her daughter's face and turning it from side to side as she inspected her. Those dark eyes were still so perfect and sweet. "A'sum," her nose nuzzling against her daughter's.
"O'si," the child did her best not to cry, "where were you?"
"Helping a few friends, that was all," deciding then it was best not to confuse the child, "I'm sorry. Do the birds sing?"
"The birds are very happy," she said, throwing her arms around her mother's neck and finally releasing her tears.
Tav released the Ascendant from his magical prison, his hand stopping the spawn from inserting himself into the reunion with a firm whisper to explain himself: "Give them a moment. The little one's name is Sophie. She is a... tougher customer than her mother. I have given her everything she could ever desire, and still, I haven't won her over."
Astarion huffed, "and she told you about this?"
"What? That Rite didn't turn me into a monster," he gave a soft chuckle, "I am still me, you… us?"
The spawn gave another huff, and he decided to stew. Silently.
The Ascendant let him go and approached the two females still held in each other's embraces, "Sophie, I think it is time you let your mother go; we need to make sure she recovers from her ordeal."
Sophie stared at the other from over Tav's shoulder, her bottom lip still quivering, "Mom isn't hugging that good."
"Well, shouldn't we let her rest? You can always see her later," the Ascendant offered.
Tav let the girl go and struggled to her feet. "Yes, Sophie, I need to rest. We can make a pie when I'm feeling better."
The other gave her a thankful smile, and Tav glowered in return.
"Fine, I'll go with Codsworth," the child groaned but otherwise left without too much more complaining after another tight hug around her mother's legs.
When the three of them were alone in the room again, the stranger spoke first, "And don't fret about a place to stay. I'm glad to host my alternate lover and my alternate self until you find your way home. Or decide otherwise. I will have another one of my servants show you to your rooms. You'll find the place restructured from your last visit. Though I do hope you will stay long enough for a small dinner, I am hosting in two nights."
The Ascendant gave them a courtly bow before another servant appeared to see them to their rooms.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Astarion waited for the servant to leave them, his red eyes scanning over Tav as she insisted on hobbling on her own into the room. As if to prove a point, she stood near a bedpost and still did not reach out for it to steady herself, her opal eyes barely reaching his feet as she waited.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" Astarion was a little proud of how well he held back a temper. It was a godly effort, after all.
"When was I supposed to?" Tav returned an annoyingly flippant answer.
"Maybe not right away," his long finger tapped against his cheek, "but somewhere between 'Ohh Astarion, you make my heart beat quicken, and my lions quiver' and 'I love you' would have been the right time to mention the teensy detail that you had an actual child!"
Her eyebrows raised. "So, if I had a not-actual child… I wouldn't need to say anything?"
"Ugh," he readjusted his stance, "No, no, no we don't get to joke at a time like this," Astarion's hand left his forehead, "I mean this with the utmost devotion and love, but are truly the most difficult person in two Faerûns, so difficult you have managed to somehow out difficult your alternate self," his eyes watched the tips of her cheeks color, still one of the most adorable sights the planes had to offer, "I'm not sure if I should applaud you, or grab you by the scruff and shake out all those nasty little secrets!"
"Ohh, the promise of rough carnal sex twice in one day," Tav deflated when his face remained sour, and her cheerful attitude plummeted, "but I thought she was gone. I was abducted, and I was all she had. And her existence just led to another sob story and...yeah."
The spawn looked thoughtful for a long while before he finally turned to look at her: " Sometimes, I'm not sure if I am enough for you. Always, really, I suppose. But it's moments like these."
"Astarion, please, I-" she reached out for him.
"Don't touch me," his lips fought to control a scowl. You're barely hanging on by a thread and in no place to argue. Just go to bed, or at least lie down, you stubborn beastie."
Tav finally looked away from him and hobbled to the bed, completing her suddenly languid bedtime routine before she dared to speak again, "I think we should keep the existence of that ring to ourselves. I know he's 'you', but… I'm not sure we should trust him."
Astarion still huffed, "that's probably wise."
Quietly, they settled into bed for their trance, the bridge of her nose pressed between his shoulder blades. A signal for him to turn over and cuddle if he wished to, or really any amount of physical affection he felt like dolling out. Tav knew it was a no, but it was so instinctual that Astarion didn't mind it either, despite his earlier command. It took them longer to trance than either cared for, and both pretended not to notice the tears the other shed.
I understand that the intended interpretation is 'I would show affection through a difficult and tedious chore to gift you with sweetness' but the way I know to peel a pomegranate involves ripping it in half and then beating the shit out of it with a spoon until all the seeds come out, so this is reading more along the lines of ' you want a snack and I want violence and I will indulge us both"
Set years after the end of Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion and Tav meet by chance after years apart. This story follows their meetings every year, on the anniversary of the start of their adventures.
IV-
Tav's finger glided over the smooth glass in her hand; the pads of her finger stopped once she touched the condensation on the glass. Deciding to drink the liquid before it got much warmer, she downed the glass in one long sweep.
"Is it my company, or is drinking becoming a new vice of yours?" Astarion teased as he took the seat opposite her.
His crimson eyes followed the silk tablecloth to the carnation in a vase at the center of the table, the clear liquid within it reflecting the golden candlelight. They traveled up to meet her eyes with a flash of a genuine smile and pointed fangs. Tav felt her smile return to him without her heeding. The coil in her gut tightened as the heat roaring across her face was not from the wine alone.
"I'm afraid you get the sober Tav this time," she set the glass down carefully and took the chance to look away from him, "and the less… randy version as well."
His eyes narrowed as he leaned in, "Darling, don't you dare roll over now," Astarion retreated with a glint in his eyes, "unless it's on top of sheets. Yours or mine."
"Incorrigible," she replied peevishly, though the corner of her mouth tilted.
"We don't have to stay here," his voice dipped into that dangerous octave, "we cou-"
That 'smelly' Orc appeared behind him, pulling the spawn's attention from his flirting as he debated with the server over wines. Tav sat back and observed Astarion's animated conversation. He was so confident that he did not even glance at the price menu as he quizzed the Orc about the best or newest vintages on the scene. The vampire fit in so well with the aristocratic crowd- well, except for his tattered and worn clothing. This brown and white doublet had seen far many better days, and she recognized a couple of the ground in stains: blood from her rescue in the sewer and the telltale rust-colored stain from the stucco roofing of Razmith's tower. On further reflection, she recalled seeing that doublet since the little reunion Withers had thrown them. Tav would gladly supply him with new clothes if she didn't predict his temper at the offer. Like the new cream-colored satin halter top number she wore now, she excused the neckline that plunged to her navel as a fashion statement, not an attention grabber for a particular undead.
"She'll have another glass of whatever she is drinking," Astarion boldly ordered her another glass, "and I'll have the Tavern of the Garden Wine, and I mean wine. Not whatever other vintage you usually serve me."
"One glass of Tavern and one glass of Undermountain Alurlyath," the Orc chuckled, "and food for the lady?"
"Smoked Salmon with wild berries, please."
"The usual changes," the Orc asked in a too-familiar tone.
"The usual would be wonderful," she returned with a smile. Ignoring Astarion's knowing smirk.
Astarion caught the Orc's arm before he left the table, "don't forget a slice of Devil Deal's cake." His toothy grin swiveled back to her with a victorious grin, "What it is your birthday."
"How… chivalrous."
He made a sour face, "Don't ruin my fun. It might just put me out of the mood to give you a present."
Her black eyebrow raised, but she played along, "However shall I regain your favor!"
Astarion grinned like a cat, "I could think of a few surefire ways, but I don't want you to bother me about it any longer," he took out a small box wrapped in a red ribbon and slid it in front of Tav.
The tears threatened her eyes before she managed to touch the box, as her fingers gently grasped the thing as if it might crumble from the gentlest pressure. Today, she would allow her tears to fall; it was a special day, and she could cry if she wanted. The pad of her finger delicately touched the ribbon, but her eyes wandered up to her companion, her voice a mere whisper, "Is this mine?"
He gave her a half-assed snarl, "Yes, you were always wearing that ratty thing," his lips thinned, "but open the damned present; I don't want everyone to see you cry. It's embarrassing."
Tav tucked her head in, then proceeded to open the paper box after carefully winding the crimson ribbon around her wrist.
"Some vagabond took off with your earring," he interrupted before she got a glance at the contents within, "so I found another one. If it doesn't match, throw it or hawk it- it doesn't matter to me."
This time her head shook with a cocked smile, unsure if it was wise of her to think he didn't mean half of what he implied. But that was half the problem in of itself; his course tone aligned with the biting words. Part of her wanted to bend over to make them stop, the other just to cower and turn inward so they would go away sooner. Leaving her with a taste of bile, where she knew she should find the taste sweet. Tav shook her head to dislodge the thoughts once again; she had a present to open after all.
For the second time, she was tearing up. Nestled against a plush backdrop was a lapis earring that matched the stolen mate she had taken from her mother's dusty jewelry box a lifetime ago in a mad dash to leave her father's home. He had an impeccable memory for the detail of her missing piece, which tipped her tears into brimming over. Astarion's body moved into action, cascading over the table to cup her cheek and flick her tears away with his calloused thumb before it could completely smudge the kohl under her eyes. Heedlessly, her face nestled into his palm, undoing all his work not to smear her makeup.
The smell of smoke entered her nostrils.
Astarion's arm retreated as he cursed and flailed.
In a manner of divine timing, the orcish server rounded the corner and rushed forward with the bucket holding their wine bottles. With one hand, he placed both bottles on the table, and with the other, he shoved the vampire's elbow into the ice and dosed the flame.
"Unhand me brute!" Astarion demanded with no shame.
Tav chortled loudly, happy tears now streaming over her cheeks. Her hand rested on her belly as she attempted valiantly to control her laughter.
His red eyes shot daggers at her as he resumed control of his arms, but his gaze turned back to their server, and his gaze softened as his mouth resumed a neutral position. "Thank you, that was very helpful, unlike one of some of us," he muttered the last part under his breath.
The Orc let out a soft laugh, which for him still carried over half the restaurant, "the bottles are on the house; please enjoy," he made short work of pouring both of their glasses before retreating away again.
Tav still wiped at her eyes with an upward angle, her face red from the force of her laughter.
"You look horrid," the spawn snapped as he surveyed the damage. His entire right elbow had been burnt away as his pale skin shone out in a large swathe at his joint. He picked and tore off the ashy bits of his clothing with a fierce frown, fretting at the garment until he had eliminated each burnt and melted bit of cloth and leather.
"Are you hurt?"
"I don't need your help," he hissed.
Tav nodded glumly and began to swipe at her face using the dark window as a mirror. At least this way, she didn't have to see the vampire who was likely fuming at her. It gave her pride a chance to recover and face him again as she was back in some order. It was also the opportunity she needed to swap out her earrings for the lapis studs that finally had returned to a matching pair.
"I'm sorry," Tav offered him softly.
"Darling, I can tell you still wish to laugh," he let out a long exhale, "so apologies not accepted or needed."
She allowed the silence to move in between them, only broken by the minute sounds associated with them drinking from their glasses. Until Tav's attention was drawn to Astarion pulling something from his pack, a familiar flask that he tipped into his second glass of wine. His eyes trained on her ears for a moment longer, the corners of his mouth stretching.
Astarion released a smile, "I am in need of sustenance too; the vintages should pair well."
"Vintages? If that makes you sleep easy at night," Tav snorted gently, "But are they working?"
"Yes," he said slowly, chewing on his words, "with what supplies we have, it's difficult to make a pack of vermin agree to share."
That earned him a smirk, "nearly endless supply isn't enough? Shame."
"We're all beasts, some of us more beautiful than others," he sighed, "but enough about my favorite subject. How is your quest for Dukedom?"
"Hah, hardly a quest; it's been far more fun avoiding that role."
"Not enough perks of Office for you?"
"No, a fear of increased paperwork," she smiled from her wine glass, "the office machinations are tedious enough."
His returning smile was predatory, and he leaned in, "Anyone that needs to meet an unexpected and grisly end?"
Tav considered the offer, but her head shook. She took a cursory glance around her before she continued, "Nothing that extreme, just Duke Roseau trying to wave his power stick in my face. It's Nothing new."
The vampire leaned a little more forward and licked his lips, "this sounds personal. Can I kill him? Please. Pretty please."
She laughed, reinforcing her words with a shake of her head, "Keep it down, killer. I can handle it."
"But I could help," the spawn whined as he sipped at his concoction, "two hands make for easier work."
"It's not that big," she chuckled, amused thoroughly with her joke.
Astarion's face crossed with a bit of confusion, but he joined her chuckle.
"But before I forget again, again," Tav admitted with a guilty grin as she fished something out of her pouch. It was a carved cat; the slightly iridescent surface of the white creature glinted in the candlelight as she slid it across the table, "It should make things a little easier for you."
Astarion picked up the half-heart-shaped cat with a tilted head, "easier for what?"
Tav stared ahead at a point behind his back.
"Tav? Hellloo," his torso turned to look behind him.
There, the orcish server approached with a tiny figure compared to his massive frame. The girl-woman carefully balanced a tray and what could only be Tav's salmon and strawberries with the side of asparagus. Her big brown doe eyes looked over them with her mouth agape, and the plate toppled to the floor with a loud clatter and shattering of ivory dishes. Tav stared at the younger woman, and she stared transfixed right back.
A few seconds later, the second crash was the chair being spun out from under Tav as she leaped up.
The reverie wasn't necessary to remember the smells of strawberries and apples mixing with the aromatic spices and vanilla of the rising pie crust. The burning streaks of sunlight that branded her tan skin, and the giggling of the sweetest kind- and the little hands pressed to her cheek with a puff of flour. Before the crescendo of the little voice rose again and again until they collapsed into a pile on the threadbare and stiff couch beneath them. Sneezing and laughing until they were both out of breath and wheezing. Just as quickly, the world tilted, and the laughter was replaced with deafening cracks and groans. Rock, metal, and wood alike careened and skidded across the cobblestone streets. She curled around that little figure, letting the debris cut through her to shield her child from even a moment of pain. But they couldn't stay there as she urged them forward again. Glancing behind her to look at the strange shadow that had blotted out the sky and stretched out to take them. She shoved her child beneath the underpass with only a second to react. Screaming out for her to hide as the world was ripped away from her.
"Tav!" Astarion's tone was insistent and rising, likely not the first time he had called out to her.
"I have to-."
--- --- ---
Astarion blinked as Tav disappeared with a faint crack. Leaving him alone with the Orc and the girl whose gaze had not left the space his friend had vanished from. The Orc started issuing an immediate apology as he set to clean up the mess left behind by the dropped plate. The girl stood there, dumbfounded, her mouth still slightly open. Ignoring her partner's requests and pleas for help.
"Hells," he whined. But it had been a futile effort without someone to react to his dramatics.
His head turned to get a better look at the woman. Something about her scent was familiar, drawing his interest to inspect this person closer.
Tall but lean. A sharp nose and a pink skin tone dotted with freckles. Her dark brown eyes were surrounded by shiny black hair pulled into a low bun and the elegant curves of half-even ears decked out with several rings and piercings. If he… no. That was the answer, wasn't it? One of the final puzzle pieces in the mystery of Tav's murky past life. The woman was a clone of his companion, even down to the moisture that ran down her cheek and how she swiped it away to minimize the running of her kohl. The similarities of the composition of their blood flooded his nostrils as he placed the shared notes between mother and daughter.
"What is your name, my dear?" he mustered with as much gentleness as he could find.
Those dark orbs turned to him, finding himself being scrutinized and picked over with one look, "Sophie Blaire."
"And you are?" she returned with an even tone.
"Astarion," he wasn't sure why he gave her a bow, but he was halfway through the action before he caught it.
Remember a couple posts ago when I said I was writing an original fic? Well, those characters wouldn't let me continue world building until I wrote something. And that something turned out to be some filthy smut.
TW: enthusiastic consent but they're angry about it, fighting turns into something else that starts with f.
“You have no right to lecture me,” she spat, wiping at her mouth. Blood streaked the back of her hand.
“I have every right.” Three quick strides closed the gap between them. “As your warden, as your better –”
Ainara scoffed and droplets of blood sprayed from her freshly split lip. “My better? Because you’ve ascended to Scholar?” She pointed a shaking finger in his face. “That doesn’t make you better than me, Kai. It makes you so” -she lowered her hand and jabbed that finger into his chest- “much” -jab- “worse.”
He smacked her hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Or what?” The flat of her palm connected with the solid plane of his chest. The force barely made him shift onto his heels. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to send him flying across the room. She wanted him to hurt. “You won’t do shit about it. You never do anything. You’re a damned coward.” Before she could land another hit, he struck, the movement so quick it barely registered. Fingers closed around her wrists, searing her flesh as she struggled against his grip.
“Funny that you call me the coward when you have spend the last five years hiding.” He pulled her closer with a yank of her wrists. So close her balled fists pressed against his stomach. Rage rose from his body like steam. “I know you’re waiting for your opportunity to run. Don’t. I found you when the entire world thought you dead,” the rosemary on his breath infiltrated her senses as he leaned in, “I will most certainly find you again.”
All struggling ceased at his threat. If not for the menacing tone with which he growled the words, it could have been a lover’s promise. Something like longing seized her stomach, made her blood heat and her head spin. Based on the slight furrow of his brow, the minute relaxation at the corners of his eyes, Kai felt it too. The weight of his words hung between them. For a moment, it was as if they were teenagers again, lovesick and making vows they could never keep. Before she blew that version of them to smithereens. Before they accepted each other’s deaths without any confirmation because it was so much easier than the truth.
An ache blossomed in her jaw from clenching her teeth so tightly. Bastard. How dare he say such a thing? How dare he revive that part of her heart that had withered for so long. He hadn’t been looking for her, he had stumbled across her home blindly while in pursuit of another. If she were to go missing again, he wouldn’t expend an iota of energy more than required by the Mage. There was nothing left between them but distrust and loathing, and he had the nerve to speak as if he would follow her to the ends of the Earth. To threaten her with a lifetime of confinement.
“You couldn’t possibly get so lucky twice,” she snarled.
Kai’s eyes widened, as if to flinch, in the split second before she wrenched her arms free from his grip. A crack split the air as her fist connected with his jaw. His head snapped to the side. Red hot pain shot through her knuckles and up her forearm. When he looked her way again, no sign of the lovesick man she used to know remained. In his place was a Scholar, a warrior without an ounce of compassion.
Fists flew at her face. Kicks targeted her chest, her abdomen, her legs. Blood roared in her ears as she desperately tried to deflect and dodge his blows. He had been taking it easy on her in training, letting her practice the motions of deflecting and landing a hit of her own. Now, he moved so quickly it was all she could do to avoid being pummeled. Air whooshed overhead, ruffling her hair, as she ducked a fist intended for her head. A blur of motion on her left sent her rolling right. If she didn’t know him miserably well, she’d suspect his magic increased his physical abilities. If she didn’t hate him so much, she’d be impressed by the way he moved. Every strike, every step so fluid it was as if his muscles acted of their own accord. His body and mind joined in the singular purpose of destroying their opponent, of destroying her.
A flurry of blows aimed at her face, and she shot her forearms up to block. All oxygen in her lungs was expelled at once as a vicious kick landed square in her stomach. Ainara collapsed to the ground, folded in on herself, hand pressed to her abdomen.
From above, Kai glowered and stretched his jaw. “Don’t pick a fight you can’t win.”
Panting, she glared up at him. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath. A familiar hollow opened in her chest, a great chasm that pulled her ribcage apart at the sternum. Glacial cold crawled from the newly torn depths. Silver flames burst forth from her hands, dancing along the bruising flesh of her arms.
“Ainara, don’t,” Kai warned. “Your magic will eat you alive.”
A chill spread through her bones, ice dusting her skin. “Not before it takes a bite out of you.”
Flames lunged through the air. A brilliant white dragon of power gave chase as Kai retreated, dodging and ducking as she had been moments before. Good. Run. She wanted his fear. She wanted to strike him in the heart and freeze it as solid as her own. Magic sang the same sadistic tune in her veins.
Blackness leeched the edges of her vision and Ainara knew her eyes had gone black. Soon she’d be overwhelmed by her own magic, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Watching Kai run from her attacks was too satisfying. There was little he could do against her; it had always been that way. As strong as he was in his own power, hers were a living, breathing beast of its own.
Awareness tingled as her magic sensed movement to the right. A chair was flying in her direction, sent by Kai. She hadn’t noticed him pull it across the room. Her right hand shot up and her cold fire stretched out to meet it. Wood warped and shriveled mid-air, then combusted. Splinters rained. On her left, Kai was closing in. Encased in a shimmering blue shield, he was no longer running from her attack. Another stream of flame erupted from her hand, straight at him. Silver collided with the energy of his shield. Energy crackled and popped, reverberating through the room like the sound of ice breaking at the center of a frozen lake.
“Ainara, stop!” Veins in his neck bulged as he strained to move through her fire.
She didn’t want to stop. As soon as she did, she’d be caged. The Mage would order an implant be placed to strip her of her magic. They would remove her from the small basic room that had become her only refuge and put her behind bars once again to rot. They’d never let her go. Not after an outburst like this. And that was all assuming she could stop. Her magic was starving and now it was so close to being sated for the first time in years, it was salivating. Desperate. It would devour them both, even if it was to be its last feast.
Kai collided with her and knocked her flat on her back. She barely felt the impact, but it was jarring enough – how had he reached her through the fire? - that the streams of power attacking him dissipated. Flames coated them both, freely licking up her flesh with a ghostly chill while trying to find a weakness in Kai’s shield. Magic crackled and sparked. Nothing before had ever withstood her flames. Years ago, even Kai’s shield had failed under the strain. Of course they had hardened over time. Kai had no weaknesses but his own ambition, that much hadn’t changed, and his control had improved immensely in her absence.
“Get off of me,” she ordered, her voice unrecognizably cold.
“Call back your magic,” he countered. She struggled fruitlessly beneath him. He straddled her waist, pinning her legs with his own, as they wrestled with each other’s arms. She managed to get a hand free long enough to slap him across the face. Whether it was the sting of the slap or the echo of flesh against flesh, the smack snapped something in them both. Nails dragged across his cheek as Kai caught her wrists in his hands, his grip mercilessly tight, and yanked them from his face to pin them overhead. “Damn it, Ainara, stop!”
All at once, her magic retreated. Full color returned to her vision. Kai’s shield sputtered out and the blue energy that had been covering his body disappeared. The chasm in her chest sucked all the cold from the air, from her body, and she felt warm for the first time since calling to her magic. Entirely too warm. With his shield gone, Ainara could suddenly feel everything. The solid weight of him pressing her into the floor. His touch scalding and calloused on the sensitive flesh of her inner wrists. Sweat gathered along her forehead and dripped between her breasts. A similar sheen coated his face and neck and made his shirt cling to his torso. Kai’s body was bowed over hers to keep her pinned, the ends of his hair skimmed her cheek, tickled her clavicle, as he panted over her.
It wasn’t fair of him to still look the same. Magic had taken its toll on her, but he still looked like the same man she once loved. Those deep brown eyes could still pierce her with such intensity she had to close her eyes to block him out. And still, she could feel them on her. Scrutinizing. Peeling her apart, flaying her alive. His weight shifted. Both of her arms were pinned by one of his while the other skimmed up the length of her arm to her shoulder, across her bare skin to her neck. Her skin flushed, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. And elsewhere, across her chest and down her abdomen, as if his gaze had dropped to touch her everywhere his hands did not.
Fingers wrapped around the column of her throat, not squeezing, but firmly resting. She opened her eyes to avoid the need to squirm and his shot up to meet her stare. She challenged, “you going to kill me now?”
Kai’s grip on her throat tightened infinitesimally. “I’m not the murderer here.”
Her eyes narrowed. If it wouldn’t fall back onto her own face, she would have spit at him. “I hate you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
But as she shifted beneath him, her feet struggling for purchase so that she could regain some semblance of control, she felt his body’s betrayal press against her stomach. Air sucked between her teeth like she’d been struck, and he froze. It meant nothing. It was simply his body reacting to adrenaline from their fight and proximity. Just as it meant nothing when a jolt of heat rooted in her abdomen and branched lower. The skipping beat of her heart, the hitch in her breath, it was all meaningless. Physical reactions over which she had no control. The widening of his eyes, however, the stutter of his exhale as his gaze dropped to her heaving chest, that felt like something.
“It doesn’t feel mutual,” she muttered, suppressing a smirk. His eyes darted back to hers, expression dark, as she shifted her hips underneath him. Trapped as she was, she couldn’t really touch him, but the motion was enough to make her point. His erection bobbed, tapping her stomach.
A rumbling, scornful laugh split his lips. “You say that as if I wouldn’t find you soaking if I touched you right now.” Ainara swallowed, hard. The roughness of his voice, his words, sent a jolt of lightning straight to her core and she felt a rush of arousal between her thighs. Kai leaned in closer, pressing against her throat, gripping her wrists tight enough to bruise. Hot, rosemary breath ghosted against her ear. “I can hate you and want to fuck you at the same time.”
That had certainly changed. When they’d met, Kai was a hopeless romantic dreaming of an everlasting love. They’d had partners before, they weren’t each other’s firsts, but each lover had had taken had been significant. When they had evolved from friendship to romance, he had been the one who wanted them to wait, to make sure it would be meaningful for both parties. Sex had been the deepest form of intimacy, not a means to an end. Now, he simply wanted to blow off some steam. She could feel it in the way he pinned her, the way his entire body shook imperceptibly as if he was a hair’s breadth from losing his carefully constructed control. Maybe he really did want to kill her, to wound her as deeply as she had wounded him but didn’t have her capacity for violence.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered, lips brushing against his cheek.
Teeth closed on her earlobe and tugged the sensitive flesh, drawing a gasp from her before she could stifle it. Then his lips were on the scant amount of flesh exposed between his hand and her jaw, the sharp edge of his teeth poised to bite. “Are you asking me to prove it?”
The delicious threat of his teeth at her neck made her thighs clench. An invitation more dangerous than the Mage could ever provide. Prison would be safer. Being stripped of her magic and dropped into a pit of lions had better odds of survival. Yet her heart pounded at the prospect. That chasm in her chest hadn’t closed when her magic retreated, leaving her utterly hollow. And now it was she who was hungry, not her magic, for anything to fill the yawning crater where her heart once beat.
“Yes.”
Kai’s hand tightened on her throat once more, enough to make her lips part to draw more air. A warning. Or his last attempt to cling to his senses. And then they were moving so quickly her mind couldn’t keep up. There was nothing gentle, nothing romantic about how they came together. Suddenly her hands were free, Kai’s busy clawing at her clothing. Teeth scraped along her neck, her jaw, over the swell of her breasts. Her head fell back, baring her throat. She dug her nails into the meat of his shoulders, shifted beneath him until he was nestled between her spread thighs. She rolled her hips. A tortured moan rumbled in Kai’s throat as her core rubbed along his length. She did it again and again, breathless from the friction against her clit. Both of his hands gripped the collar of her blouse and tore. Ainara gasped. Air rushed against her bare skin just long enough to know that he had split the fabric down to her abdomen before he was on her again. Callouses scraped against the tender flesh of her exposed breast. Lips skated across her jaw, burning a path to her mouth.
Ainara turned her head at the last second, his lips landing on her cheek instead of on her own. Fingers gripped her chin and turned her to him. Eyes impossibly dark with lust latched on to her mouth and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.
She breathed, “don’t.”
Kai paused, something flickering in his gaze as his eyes met hers. It was gone with a blink. His face was flushed. Four angry red lines marked one of his cheeks and they wrinkled as nodded at her trousers and said, “take those off.”
They moved quickly, both aware that if they took too long the spell would be broken, and they would be left half naked and unsatisfied. He sat back on his heels and scrambled to undo his laces while she shimmied out of her trousers and undergarments. By the time he had his off, she was naked from the waist down, her ruined shirt clinging worthlessly to her torso, and she surged forward. Kai laid back, hands reflexively landing on her hips as she straddled him. Nothing separated them now and his length slipped easily through the wetness gathered along her slit.
“Gods you’re wet,” Kai moaned. He gripped her hips so tightly it hurt. She closed her eyes and rolled her hips, leaning into the pain, grinding against his length. At the end of each undulation, the head rubbed against her clit and she shivered. “Look at you,” his voice was broken and strained. “You’re fucked up for being so desperate for me.”
Ainara braced her hands against his chest, curled her nails against him, and lifted her hips despite his hold. Her body screamed at the loss of contact. Kai’s grip tightened further, and they locked eyes. His hips rose to follow hers, chasing the same friction her body mourned, and he pulled her back down against him. She huffed a dark laugh, “Who’s the desperate one?”
One of his hands palmed her breast, pinching her nipple between his fingers, and he tugged. She let out a yelp, following the pressure until she was nearly flush against him. The new angle aligned his head perfectly at her entrance. She watched a retort die on his tongue as she instinctively pressed backward, the head of his cock spreading her lips, pressing against her entrance. Ainara drank in his expression. The slight gape of his mouth, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Nipple still caught between his fingers, he worked the sensitive flesh firmly, but almost absentmindedly. As if all his concentration focused on where his cock twitched against her opening. He looked awestruck. Broken. She wanted to memorize that expression. When this was over and they were at each other’s throats once more, she wanted to remember how utterly enraptured he was in this moment.
“What does it say about you,” she leaned down to whisper against the shell of his ear, “that you’re here fucking a convict?” She was torturing herself, prolonging it this way. Desire coiled tight in her abdomen. She needed release, soon.
“Shut up,” he panted weakly. His hips bucked, his hand on her hip tried to push her down onto him, but she resisted.
“Did you request to be my warden, Kai? In hopes that you could fuck me again?” She pressed back ever so slightly, the pressure of his head against her entrance delectably hot and hard. Her cunt ached, contracting around nothing, trying to draw him in.
“I said shut up,” he growled. His hand moved from her breast to her hair, fisting at the base of her neck and pulling tight. Sinfully sweet pain tickled her scalp. Head drawn back, her body arched. Doing so moved her entire body back and finally his cock breached her entrance. “Gods,” Kai sighed, his hips rising, “more. I need more.”
Ainara fisted his shirt and breathed deep. The first inch alone was enough to wrack her with a full body shudder. She’d taken him before, but it had been some time since she’d had anything more than her own finger, and her body tensed against the intrusion. “Wait,” she said, her voice a strained whisper from the hold he had on her.
Kai stilled, his fingers tangled tightly in her hair, but he eased up enough that her forehead fell against his chest. Slowly, she worked herself on his cock. Up and down, inch by torturous inch, she sunk down onto him. Eyes closed, breath heavy, she focused on the stretch, on the glide of him inside of her as she rose up high enough to nearly remove him, then sunk down again. Warmth pooled in her core, desire already coiling tight. It nearly snapped as Kai pulled her hair, forcing her to arch, and took a breast into his mouth. Teeth latched on to her nipple and drew it tight. Ainara released a breathless, gasping moan as she sank down onto him completely. Kai’s answering noise was long and deep and guttural, rumbling around her nipple. She gave herself but a second to adjust to his girth before she started to ride him in earnest. That band coiled in her abdomen was close to snapping. She had been so ready, so aching, that she wasn’t far from release. Eyes closed tight, she was only vaguely aware that it was Kai beneath her, Kai’s cock inside her stretching her so wonderfully full. His hands roaming her body, bruising her hips, pinching her nipples, pulling her hair. Jolts of pleasure shot up and down her spin. She tilted her hips, changing the angle and – oh.
“Fuck…yes….” Pinpricks of pleasure exploded, her toes tingled, as his cock hit that spot inside of her. She slipped a hand between their bodies and rubbed her clit in firm circles. Her cunt clenched around him, a new rush of wetness coating his cock. She was going to come. “Gods, yes.”
Suddenly she was yanked back from the precipice of her climax. She nearly sobbed with frustration, her hand forced to leave her clit to catch herself, her body horribly empty and pulsing with need, as Kai withdrew and rolled her onto her back. He pulled her to him by her thighs, fingertips digging into her flesh.
“You don’t get to use me,” he snarled. Then he gripped himself in one hand and slapped his cock against her slit. She nearly cried, her clit thrilled for any contact, no matter how lewd.
Before she could catch her breath, he flipped her onto her front, pulled her hips up to meet his, and sheathed himself fully inside of her in one fluid movement. Cheek pressed against the floor, Ainara cried out. Her mind fumbled, dizzy and disoriented. Kai palmed her ass, then smacked it, hard, and she yelped. He was relentless, not giving her time to catch her breath before he withdrew and slammed into her again. And again. And again. This was no frantic race to the end; this was a punishment. His thrusts were long and hard, as if each one served to prove a point.
I can hate you and want to fuck you at the same time.
The orgasm he had so crudely ripped from her flared to life. She reached between her legs for her clit, biting back a moan as she rubbed herself in circles. Drunk on lust, she pushed back against him. More, she needed more. Harder, faster, she wanted everything he could give. Muscles in her abdomen tightened. Her pleasure was coiled so tightly she was desperate to release. She brought a fist to her mouth and bit down, stifling her moans.
Kai’s hand wrapped around her throat. Another cupped her breast. He pulled her upright, back arching, the crown of her head nearly touching his chest. Her hands shot up to grab his arm to steady herself. “If you’re going to come,” he growled against her ear, “it’s going to be because I make you.” His hips snapped against her. This angle had him nestled so deep she ached. “And I want to hear it.”
“I hate you,” she panted.
Kai laughed, dark and low, against her ear, and thrust into her again. The feeling is mutual. But Gods if he didn’t feel so fucking good. The hand on her breast skimmed across her stomach, down to where their bodies joined. His fingers slid through her arousal, pausing to savor the feel of his cock stretching her wide as he pumped in and out. Ainara shuddered. Feeling his fingers and cock at once felt so erotic, so salacious, she could scream. As if he could read her mind, he bit off another dark chuckle, and brought his fingers to her clit.
The last of his control gave way as he began to rub her clit in circles. Brutally capable fingers closed around her throat, not to constrict, but to restrain. He pounded into her. Thrust after thrust, there was nothing she could do but cling to him and feel. The scrape of his stubble against her cheek, the pinch of his teeth on shoulder, the slick delicious friction of his cock, the firm pressure of his fingers on her clit. Unable to hide her pleasure, her moans echoed throughout the room. She was vaguely aware of how breathless she sounded, how wanton and inarticulate. It felt too good to care.
“Oh Gods,” she choked, “don’t stop.” Every muscle was taut with need, with anticipation. She was so close. If he stopped her release again, she would die. Maybe that was his intention. To bring her to the brink of ecstasy and destroy her by denying it. The prospect nearly made her sob.
Kai groaned against her ear. “Let me feel you come, Ainara.” One more circle of her clit, another hard thrust, and she was lost. With a strangled cry, Ainara came hard. Tremors shook her entire body. Her cunt clenched and spasmed, a rush of liquid heat dripped down his cock. “Fuck, yes. That’s it.”
He continued thrusting into her through her orgasm. She was near boneless, fully supported by his hand at her throat and her flesh so sensitive that each drive into her sent another shockwave through her body. The hand that had been circling her clit trailed up her body, leaving a damp trail across her skin, to her lips. Mindlessly, she parted her lips, taking his fingers into her mouth and sucking, tasting the sweet tang of her own cum. As she languidly swirled her tongue around the digits, Kai’s thrusts grew erratic, his rhythm lost to his oncoming release.
With a pained moan, he released her and withdrew. Ainara collapsed onto her hands and knees. A hand grabbed one of her cheeks and spread her apart. Hot cum splattered across her ass, in the cleft between her cheeks, dripped down her slit.
Silence suddenly smothered the room. In the absence of skin slapping and their moans, awkwardness set in. Ainara remained frozen, drawing deep breaths, listing to Kai’s own heavy breathing as he jerked himself through the last of his orgasm. Hells below, what did she do?
Kai’s hand slid from her ass, and she sat back on her heels, forced herself to look at the wreckage of their decision. He still worse his shirt, but hers was off her shoulders now, a tattered scrap of fabric around her waist. Their pants lie scattered, tangled together like a proclamation of their own. Their eyes met and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to let her gaze fall to the floor.
“Hand me my underwear,” she ordered, nodding to the discarded clothing nearest him. He obeyed wordlessly and remained silent, watching as if not really seeing, while she wiped herself clean. “We should go.”
Finally, Kai snapped to attention. He grabbed his pants and stood to dress. “You’re right. The Mage is expecting you today.”
Ainara knotted the laces on her trousers and pinched her ruined shirt together. “What for?”
“I believe that depends on how you behave.” Kai’s expression was unreadable. His mouth set into a thin line, his jaw clenched, but his eyes looked troubled. “Let’s go.”
“Now?” She demanded. “Surely there’s time for me to put on a proper blouse first.”
“Your clothing is inconsequential.”
“You’re joking,” she laughed in disbelief. “Kai, I’m not going to stand before The Mage with my tits out.”
“I won’t keep The Mage waiting because you suddenly want to feign decency.”
Ainara blinked at the insult. “And what of your decency? Is it common practice for wardens to fuck their captives into the ground?”
Kai whirled on her. “Don’t for one second think that you can question or make demands of me because of what we did. I am your warden because your magic is volatile, and you are too weak to harness it. You will submit to whatever The Mage requests or you will stay in a cell until all that remains of you is bones, and I will drag you there myself.”
Bile burned the back of her throat. If only it were acid she could spit. As she looked at him now, Ainara tried to conjure the memory of his face slack with awe as they came together and found it impossible. It hurt to look at him. Something in her chest cracked. The icy crevasse that contained her power widened.
“The next time I collapse a tower,” she said, voice low with malice, “I promise you will be crushed among the rubble.”
Set years after the end of Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion and Tav meet by chance after years apart. This story follows their meetings every year, on the anniversary of the start of their adventures.
“It’s a little early to be lush.”
III-
“It’s a little early to be lush.”
Blaire- Tav returned a bright grin, giggled, and then twirled until she spun so tightly that she scrambled to keep her footing. The crimson ribbons falling from her black capelet strung out and tangled with her erratic movements.
He could only laugh.
“So why here,” Astarion asked, craning his head up at the ostentatiously red-roofed tower. It was an eyesore in the middle of the Uppercity, not that the Uppercity hadn’t seen better days either. But this monstrosity of roofs that didn’t match the number of floors was a curious place to meet.
“Why not,” she shot back with a smirk as she strutted toward the building.
“Bl-Tav-.”
Her head tilted back at him, “But it will be fun.”
“I have no doubt, but what does it have to do with this gauche tower?” He waved his left hand in the direction of said tower.
His companion huffed, implying he should intrinsically know whatever crazy plan she had concocted for the both of them. Her pupils flared as she sauntered by him, with a soft sigh to accompany her. His head and body followed after her as she approached the side of the building. This was going to be an exciting night.
“So, knocking is out of the question,” he pressed, “one specific teifling does owe us several favors by right for gifting him the building.”
Her cowl flared out as she rounded back on him, opalescent eyes absorbing him curiously, “don’t ruin the fun, Astarion. Yes, we could ask, but I think breaking in would be so much more fun. Unless you suddenly oppose breaking in and fun.”
“Darling,” he half snarled, “I never back down from a good time, but there is a teensy tiny problem with this plan…”
“I’ll invite you in; you’re worrying too much. I have it covered.”
His hands went to his hips as his eyebrows rose, “you’ve had too much to drink.”
Tav launched herself at the building, making it to the first decorative eave with ease as she called out behind her, “You reach two hundred and fifty, and suddenly you age out of making illogical choices; what a drag you are, Ancunin.”
“You beastie,” he muttered under his breath as he followed after her, watching her black rump clear the first roof, “fine, torment the vampire. Just don’t cry when you end up with fangs at your scrawny neck.”
“What was that?” she called down, “I can only hear an old man huffing.”
“You little,” it was too soon to use beastie again, so he used that energy in trying to catch up with her. For a drunk person, she sure was moving quickly. He clambered onto the surface of the first roof, trying not to question why scaling the Wizard’s tower was not more heavily guarded against this kind of intrusion. Or how neither of them was a burnt mark left on the side of the tower, only remembered by a perceptive passerby in a moment of curiosity...
It was easier not to question luck when it was provided.
Astarion looked back over the side, he had climbed much further up than it had looked from the ground. Hells, there were at least seven roofs left. Looking back up to his elvish companion, she wavered, a black and white shape against the stone wall. He didn’t keep her waiting out of fear she would imply he was old again—the cruel woman.
His arms began to shake by the third roof, but he was not alone as Tav started to take more frequent breaks. Squeezing her legs together, she allowed her arm to hang loose as she scanned his direction. But she was never close enough that he could see her expression clearly.
By the fourth roof, he had to rest, and his stomach started to protest.
Tav floated down beside him with a plastered-on grin, settling beside him but just a hair’s breadth away from touching him. She swayed to the other side to return to her original position, just barely not touching him. It earned her a short-lived grin as she started to chuckle, as his expression changed to vexation.
“What?” he demanded, a touch too harshly.
Her hand wavered above his shoulder, “I have a spell.”
“Now?” he exclaimed, “when I’m halfway up the damn building?”
She tucked her hand back into her side, “not quite half,” Tav brushed herself off as she stood, “but if you don’t want it.”
“Cast the damned spell!”
She tapped his shoulder and strolled away until the sound of her boots scrapping against the stucco bricks started to speed up as she began to run straight up the side of the building. The realization that the wretched creature had hammed up climbing to torment him. He needed to punish her for such treachery. After he had so kindly picked her up off the bathroom floor and made sure she landed in a soft bed. He hadn’t even snooped, which was big of him.
Astarion took off after her, trying to ignore how disorienting it was to run straight up the side of a building.
He was much faster than his companion and tackled her to the ground. Flipping her over until he landed over her hips. “I’ve got you pinned, darling,” he pitched his voice low, sultry.
She giggled. Giggled.
“This isn’t nearly as fun when only one of us is drunk.”
Tav considered something, her jaw flexing as she worked over the words that came out throatily, “I could help you with that.”
“I’m certainly willing to listen,” his fangs already extended, with his wicked grin.
“Drink my blood,” she cleared her throat to move out of the deeper register that had gripped her tone, “two birds, one stone. You get fed and a little more drunk.”
“If you insist…” he bent down over her slowly.
With her little giggle, Astarion took that as her permission to proceed. His nose brushed over her neck and vein before he bit down. Her moan came a second before his teeth sunk into her flesh.
This was the one sweet vintage he did enjoy, would sample again, and yearned for. This concoction of her heady essence was more her than the taste of her cunt or lips. More her than the salty sweat that coated his tongue or the peach-heavy scent of black hair his nose was nestled in. It evened out with the warmth of her body beneath him, as her hot blood provided her warmth. He pulled Tav in closer to him, cradling the back of her head, excusing it as wanting a better angle to continue his feasting. This act was only made special by virtue of her blood being the first blood he had received willingly, and only for that reason. He fought to keep that reasoning at the center of his reality.
“This is much harder when your throat is moving,” his voice warped and garbled around her neck.
“I’ve got to replace the blood with something,” she expressed flippantly.
“Now?” his annoyance peaked through, “right now?”
“Riiight,” she tucked the flask back under her shoulder.
His eyes narrowed, the look lost into the mass of her hair. He almost lost his appetite for blood. Almost.
Astarion regrettably let her go once her hand squeezed his bicep, “delicious as always, my friend,” his fingers wiping up the droplets that threatened to escape from his mouth after he had helped Tav back upright, “but I still need whatever booze you are hoarding in your little pack.”
Tav rubbed at her neck and tossed him the small flask.
Astarion sniffed it, “Please, not some white wine again, your lack of refined tastes is embarrassing.”
“Just think of what you want to drink,” she replied with a note of tiredness, “it shou-”
Astarion gagged on the drink and spat it out of his mouth,” bloody hells!”
Tav snorted, hiding her mouth behind her hand, “I should have specified booze only at the moment.”
“It would really help if you decided to be more forthcoming,” he half snarled but tested it again, more satisfied with the results of the second round, “rather than just letting me find out.”
“I think that would put a damper on things,” Tav shrugged.
“Or you’re cruel and like seeing me in pain,” the spawn whined.
“I think a little magical backwash is hardly torturous, but if we must continue on with the dramatics,” she gently teased, brushing past him on her way to continue up the build, “can we at least do it while we are moving? We are wasting precious starlight.”
He returned a mocking bow, “Yes, of course. Up the building, we must continue to whatever madness you are leading us into.”
She pressed a finger to her lips as she pressed onwards.
Astarion looked behind him and to the streets that seemed to be behind him rather than beneath him. This was a most interesting spot to attain a meal.
--- --- ---
Tav scrambled over the planter, disrupting more than a few flowers as she went on clearing the Wizard’s balcony. Astarion joined Tav, but with far more grace on the balcony. The air within the balcony was much warmer and far less thin than the air outside the terrace's confines. He brushed the sleeves of his worn brown doublet as his eyes traced the stone floor. Finding nothing out of place at their feet, he looked at the fearless Tav, who worked on the doorway into the tower. The door clicked as she managed to finagle it open.
“Did I mention how much I appreciate you teaching me that trick,” Tav murmured gently as she glanced back at him.
“Lockpicking? I’m glad to be an agent of chaos in whatever form it takes.”
“Take the compliment, Asty,” she walked backward through the door.
He grinned as he approached the doorway, halting at the threshold, “My dear, I assume everything is a compliment.”
“Brimming with so many talents, you must take everything as such,”Tav called back as her eyes searched for something particular.
“I am quite talented,” he smirked, “and beautiful. Not enough people mention that.”
“Are we feeling underappreciated lately, Astarion?”
“Gravely,” he sighed, “but I would settle for being invited into the tower that I was forced to climb, that would go a long way in making me feel appreciated.”
“Riiight,” Tav giggled, “hurry on in. I’m inviting you in.”
The force that repelled him relented as he passed over the threshold. He wasn’t going to squander the opportunity and think about it, lest he suddenly be barred again from entering. Tav was engrossed in something at the desk, so that was an easy point to see to first. It was a boring set of scrolls and several books stacked nearly at one end of the table. She had one unrolled scroll, and her eyes scanned the script. He wasn’t one for scholarly pursuits, so he sought entertainment elsewhere. Enlightening as the elf may be, boring spellwork wasn’t going to hold his attention.
His red eyes darted over the walls filled with papers and books and promise of something to pilfer. His attention drew to a nearby case and the ring nestled within it. With a sly look at his friend's turned back, Astarion picked the lock.
“What in the hells,” a crisply annoyed voice echoed throughout the cavernous room.
Tav’s head swiveled to Astarion with a minimally cross smile before pointing in the direction of the opaque tiefling, “Ahh, Rolan.”
The wizard’s tale flicked once with annoyance before it raised then stilled, “Blaire, apologies, I mean Tav,” the cantankerous tiefling’s voice grew warmer, “you should have knocked.”
“I had the intention of not disturbing you at all, dear Rolan,” she countered gently, but Astarion still felt her words pointed at him.
The wizard fussed with his sleep-disheveled hair, and the octave of his voice fluttered about, “it would have been no bother. Though I suppose I should have questioned why you asked me to leave your materials out.”
Tav returned with her twittering, oh-so-pleasant laugh that revealed just how shameless she was acting, “Much easier, I suppose, but I wanted to keep my skills from getting rusty. I hope this wasn’t a terrible inconvenience.”
Rolan made a pathetic attempt of huffing at her, “Who am I to chide the woman who saved my skin,” if his projection could blush, it would be, “But you made excellent work of it! I had no clue until your… companion alerted me to something happening inside the tower.”
“I’ll make sure to keep his hands from wandering,” she returned with a saccharine smile, “but I have my things, I should let you return to your sleep.”
The tiefling nodded and stole a glance at Astarion, “Good night, Tav.”
The shimmering image disappeared, and silence filled the room again. Tav kept looking at the scroll as if the encounter had never happened as Astarion’s chest began to tighten. He kept his tone measured, neutral, “So, another fan of yours?”
“Meaning?” Tav’s response was a hairline over annoyed.
He cleared half the distance between them, with his top half slightly tilted, “Wizards, is that your type?”
Tav looked over her shoulder at him, “no,” she spoke carefully, “I’d say its moody that encircles...” she paused, then her voice switched to terse, “Is it that outlandish that I may attract some attention?”
“That wasn’t the point at all, darling.”
“What is the point then, Assty,” she spoke with her gentle brand of venom, “we already know my terrible taste in partners, or is it my looks that come into question? Or better yet, some defect in my personality, if I know you, it is the trite naive angle.”
The sound that escaped his mouth was the unholy union of a harrumph, sigh, and a tsk. Astarion hated how disarming Tav could be. He couldn’t come up with anything much more scathing than the observation she had made about herself. Taking the wind of his sails, but this meant more time for him to come up with a better rebuttal that involved none of the words she mentioned. Later, as she had already begun to pack up the books and scrolls left out for her, she gently stuffed them into the sack her flask had come from earlier.
Tav made another pass around him, wordlessly.
He waited for her to say something, anything. Only to watch her clear the balcony and then continue up the building. Astarion looked at the case he unlocked and contemplated just taking the ring despite what Tav had promised the wizard. It would serve her right, leaving him alone like this. But a small, nagging part of him fought against that urge. Ignoring that inkling for good, he settled on following her up onto the roof. Feeling satisfied that he could still attempt to annoy her.
She sat on the roof with one of the scrolls pulled out again.
Taking another long pull from the flask, he settled next to her, watching the breeze stir her hair until he couldn’t languish in silence any longer, “reading anything fun?”
Her opal eyes rounded on him but softened as his barbs were kept at bay, “an experiment I needed help with if you wouldn’t mind handing over that flask.”
She placed the scroll beneath her thigh as she took the canteen back and sliced open her wrist with one of her daggers. Astarion, while sated for the time, watched the blood drip into the open flask hungrily. His tongue wanting nothing more than to lick the blood from her wrist and to continue that up to her mouth. Tav chanted a few words and handed the flask back over.
“Let me know how it goes.”
He tipped the flask into his mouth cautiously and was met with the pleasant surprise of her blood, in a far greater quantity than she had let drip into it.
“It’s not quite the same,” he partially lied.
“But is it sustaining? Enough to curb the hunger?”
“It’s certainly enough to make my head spin,” he admittedly wryly.
Tav blushed, then nodded, “But say I wasn’t ‘lush,’ would it do the job?”
“Yes,” his eyes narrowed, “but what for?”
She looked away from him, excusing herself by patching up her wound, “While the Underdark may be uniquely suited to housing vampire spawn for the time, a more permanent solution needs to be found. Even if not for your spawn alone, maybe it could allow your kind freedom… understanding.”
“You underestimate the allure of fresh, warm blood,” he growled, but for a reason outside the surface of his words.
“I wasn’t implying it was perfect or the end-all-be-all solution,” she sulked.
Astarion found his mouth returning to the flask, not so proud of his need to downplay her achievement. It was a generous and pragmatic gesture. This was a way his kind could provide for themselves without having to play the part of bloodthirsty killers. Allowing some of the spawn some semblance of returning to their lives if they chose it. His selfishness of keeping her blood all to himself aside, he hadn’t deserved her consideration of his struggles. While he held the solution in his hands, he had only seen the fruition of what was likely a longer labor. That nobody but a busybody elf that dared to care for a vampire spawn would even consider solving or thinking about. His tender friend had probably belabored her words that had encouraged him to lead the spawn, leading to the discovery in his hands. He didn’t know how to repay this.
Tav leaned back on her hands, her head following something in the sky. He caught the trail of a meteorite crossing over the shattered moon with a curious blue twinkling. Watching it fade with his companion in silence.
“Huh, a portent from Corellon,” Tav mused aloud.
Astarion rolled his eyes, a god would never give a fig when it related to him, especially to the elven god that his soul was lost to, “probably meant for some other fool.”
Tav chuckled gently, “I’m not looking for validation in signs. It’s just something curious I remembered from a book.”
She didn’t need to explain it away, every elf knew of the god that had kicked them from heaven. And the whispered hopes and signs that they might please the god that may allow their soul to return home someday. Not that Astarion was under any illusions, his damned soul had nowhere to go when another bastard would inevitably end his time on Faerǔn. Tav was more the sort to see the elf heavens in some distant reincarnation, if not this lifetime, if she was motivated for it enough. Tav adjusted herself, pulling up one knee into her chest as she looked over the city, though her eyes remained trained on the stars. Without the pollution of the city lights, they were much more vibrant in the night sky. A rarity to Astarion now that stalked around in the Underdark, far away from the celestial bodies held in the sky. He nursed the flask, a rare warmth spreading over his features as the blood and booze warmed him. A quiet ease overcame him as he joined her search of the stars, enjoying the breeze that gently jostled his hair.
“You know, I knew you back in the day,” Tav started softly, “before the tadpoles.”
“I wouldn’t forget seeing this face either,” his tone turned to match her gentleness after she snorted at him, “but you must have been very young, a mere babe.”
Tav snorted again, “No, I was a waitress in the Blushing Mermaid. I liked taking your tables, you were always tipping well.”
“Hah! With the gold I usually stole from my marks.”
“Makes me feel less bad for snagging up the tips before you could take them back,” Tav looked at him with a smug grin.
“Wretched creature,” he blew out an amused breath but for the death of him could not remember her. It wasn’t the kind of place he imagined her in. Not that she hadn’t proved to handle herself in a fight, but against the jostling and harassment of the most belligerent patrons? It wasn’t her scene. “It still doesn’t bring back any memory or your face, but I don’t remember many of their faces.”
“They weren’t the kind of people anyone missed.”
“Not from that place no,” his mood was starting to sour, so he would change the subject, “but what were you doing there? In that hovel.”
“I ran away from home,” she didn’t seem at all fussed.
“What a few days before you were abducted?”
Tav chuckled and leaned back on her hands, looking directly up at the sky, “wrong again. Must of been some of the human blood still left in my mother, so I matured quickly. I was almost fourteen.”
“Fourteen, well then, that makes things perfectly reasonable,” he half mocked, “I thought you were one of those theater types; why leave that lifestyle when you are still so completely enamored with it?”
“I was,” she laughed again, “but the call to adventure also came early. I wasn’t going to be confined and forced to follow rules. I thought I was so smart and knew better than my father.”
“Ahh, the bane to elvish parents all across Faerǔn,” he gave a dramatic sigh, “but that was an objectively stupid thing to do.”
“Like forcing ourselves into an orge and bugbear mating attempt.”
“The entire excursion into the Iron Throne. They were just gnomes.”
“Reading the Necromancy of Thay,” she yawned.
“Headbutting a stranger.”
“Pffht. Holding a stranger at knifepoint!”
“Fine, kissing a goblin’s filthy feet,” he returned with a pointed finger.
“Slipping a live flashblinder into a Steelwatcher’s pocket.”
“I was challenged, darling. I could be mistaken, but I remember it saving someone’s hide.”
“Compared to the several times I pulled you out of trouble?”
“Silly mistakes, every single last one of them,” his brow furrowed.
“Sure, no troubles then. I’m sure the lava would never have dared to touch you.”
“I’m a priceless treasure, and it would have known to go around me.”
“Uh-huh, just like you would have levitated over the acid pity in the sewers.”
“It knew the wroth it would face if it scuffed my boots,” he replied haughtily.
“And the hand pulling you back meant nothing,” she mused, “I’ll travel back in time and tell that person to be less useful with the aid.”
“Maybe that person shouldn’t have been wise with the hauntingly beautiful vampire in the first place,” he huffed, “you...they were always too cocky with vampire kind in general. Rushing a vampiric master with only your wits and a light spell.”
“I thought it was heroic,” she replied firmly, “besides, it was only to distract him long enough to get you down.”
“Foolish, little beastie,” he sighed, “and here I thought time would dull your need to do good.”
“This tired line again?” she returned with exasperation as her shoulders curled inward and her smile struggled to hold.
“Would you rather reiterate talking me into drinking from another fetid drow,” he intoned slowly, relishing her smile dropping altogether, “or it could be a dragonborne this time; I’ve never tried one of those, fetid or not.”
“Fuck you, Astarion,” Tav pushed herself up and began to walk away from him, her boots clattering against the stucco.
Pushing her temper didn’t relieve the pressure in his chest as it ought to. Rather, he felt guilty so casually mentioning her greatest sin against him. But he could not ignore his role in guiding her to that snide comment. Even if it was after he got a taste of that foul blood, she had pulled him off the disgusting woman. Astarion had forgiven her immediately- it was his own fault for listening to her taunting suggestion. For not respecting his own autonomy, and if he was forced into another zone of truth, his desire to get under her skin. Knowing that she would feel guilty to the point of giving in to him and choosing him over that damn wizard.
The echoing of her feet stopped just in time to catch her taking a step over the edge. Astarion bolted for her, “Blaire!” his voice softened and faded as his hand tried to catch some part of her, “Tav.”
Her eyes looked up at him from where she hovered in the air. The opalescent eyes studying him carefully from under her lashes, her face screwed in slight disdain, “Yes?”
“You jumped off the damn building!”
Tav returned the biggest and most beautiful roll of her eyes, “And you keep snapping at me for whatever emotions you do not want to feel, per usual.”
“Really? Because that’s rich coming from the woman that does nothing but smile,” he sneered at her, “Getting talked down by a wizard? Smile. We have our pride prodded at? We smile. Hells, it’s like you don’t feel anything.”
Tav raised an eyebrow at him, “Gale? Is that what this is about?”
“No,” he floundered, “I don’t particularly care about any God.”
“Gods, you’re a prick,” Tav growled as she jumped back onto the roof.
Astarion folded his arms and waited for an actual accusation to defend himself against. Being called a prick alone wasn’t enough, as it was one of her favorite terms of endearment for him.
The elf exhaled sharply, running her hand along the bridge of her nose and into her hair, “is it really as simple as anyone showing interest in me? The Orc at the Tavern, Gale… now Rolan?”
“You know the Orc is in bad taste; how could you not smell him?”
“Sometimes I forget you’ve been in the ground for two hundred years.”
“You can’t tell me it doesn’t disturb something primal in you?” he purred at her.
Again, she gave him that stunning eye roll, “That’s beside the point, Astarion.”
“So we’re doing this now,” he balked, “sixteen years too late?”
“Yes, we are doing this now. Sixteen years later,” Tav’s head tilted with each word she spoke.
Astarion groaned loudly and made a scene that involved recrossing his arms and a little stomp of his foot. Still, watching her falter over the edge of tension’s sweet precipice was borderline obscene as she threatened to tumble into the depths of the sweetest explosion. Or it could be the liquor in his system driving him to think so hot-hotheadedly.
“You told me I was a mistake, so what fucking ground do you have to stand on in my life,” he felt the anger radiating off of her, and he was drawn toward it, “so back off or shut the fucking hells up, Astarion.”
“When you make it so easy to mock you, I must respond,” he proffered her a play bow, “who else would guide you from terrible life decisions? Especially when you are so...removed from selecting the appropriate playmates.”
He caught the cinders behind her eyes, but the sparks never spewed out to consume him; instead, she chose the kinder option, “You’re on that list, or was that inconsequential?”
His hand flicked away her words, “I have never claimed to be appropriate in any given situation, that would be incredibly dull of me.”
The tanned flesh of her temples flared, and her gaze sharpened. He was happy to keep riling her up like this, it only made her eventual release that much sweeter. Astarion didn’t think she had it within herself to pull out anything that couldn’t bounce off his armor of nonchalance. It wasn’t his fault Tav couldn’t bear the thought of stabbing him back. He wanted her to go low, to cut him back so he had a reason to remove the conflicted tangle of feelings that remained in his cold, undead heart for her. This mortal had too much power over him, and he wanted a reason to take it back to rip out that cancerous part of him.
“Jealousy might be the feeling you are looking for,” she intoned.
Vulnerability was always the best way to incur his wrath.
“Of Gale, really, that almost hurts.”
“I would have picked you,” she admittedly so softly the breeze almost carried it away.
This time, he cleared the space between him, letting the anger flood through him without the pithy attempt at damming it, “No, no. No. You don’t get to say that! You chose the wizard!”
Her lip curled in response, “What after being spurned? It was all rainbows and bloodshed until you randomly decided that I was a mistake. ”
“I wasn’t sleeping with you for pleasure alone. Back in the forest, we both came out on the winning side. The game was clear. You get a moment of escape with a world-endingly beautiful vampire. I got someone to defend from Cazador.”
“Oh?” she huffed before letting a chuckle escape, “we’re back to pretending I didn’t see you were manipulating me? Please, Astarion, give me some credit. My stupidity alone was falling for it anyway. Shame on me for thinking the vampire had a heart somewhere in there.” She returned his earlier bow with a flourishing one of her own.
“That’s funny. Because I remember seeing you be awfully comfortable with several members of our little camp,” he looked at his fingernails and took his time to leave in a long, inconsiderate pause, “You must be confusing lust for adoration, darling.”
“Please, if you were in my place, you would have slept with everyone. I may have relished the attention, but I do not sleep around lightly.”
His red eyes glinted, starting to grasp around what he needed, “So you have to admit you were rather attached to Gale. Everyone knew the wizard was planning something special for the two of you that night.”
“Gods forbid someone actually enjoys your company,” she growled heatedly as he spoke over her, Tav gave up ground as she retreated with a growing blush, “That’s it, wasn’t it? Apparently, not everyone knew.”
“Come off it, you ‘astrally bonded’ with him with little convincing after I stopped our sordid affair,” he had to save face by mocking her to minimize that she had struck far too close to the source of his jealousy. The underlying ineptness he felt around his lack of experience with a real relationship. With what he had wanted with Tav, Gale’s entire plan had revealed how ill-suited he was to pursue something serious, as he could not work his head around such a well-planned and thought-out seduction. He thought in the moment and not for the future. This woman didn’t want his faltering attempt at a normal relationship, and deep down, he knew she deserved much more than his broken heart and body. So he’d keep pushing her away from him like the diseased curr he was. “What did we wait a mere hour after things ended out of respect?”
“Was I supposed to weep? Crumble and be unable to move on?” her arms flew out as he laid out the guilt on her, trying to push away the burden of his shame that he lumped on her.
Astarion snorted, “I could have done with a tear or two. It would have made your claim to care about me believable.”
“And jumping to conclusions over private conversations was the only way to prove that someone really didn’t care about you?” her tone softened, making him want to throttle her more.
“I was proven correct, if I recall correctly,” his words remained razor-sharp and would not yield to her white flag.
“You aren’t the only one who wanted someone to shield them from their problems,” she retorted, “if I could feel butterflies in response to the most hoity-toity laugh, I could certainly find something endearing in the tender wizard.”
“Hah, hahaha,” that ‘hoity-toity’ laugh couldn’t be contained, “how does it feel to be in the dregs with the rest of us?
“I never claimed to be a saint in any given situation,” she made a show of holding her hand up to observe her fingernails.
“Cute,” he smirked, “but you really do need to work on the rolling on your back thing.”
With, likely her third-ever eye roll, her smile returned, if a bit tightly, “I’m aware. But it was once two of us who had that problem.”
Astarion returned her eye roll with one of his own, “I have grown, my dear.”
“So many things to look forward to in age,” she remarked with a barely contained grin.
“The folly of the young,” he tsked as he stepped closer to her. Tav didn’t back away, so he leaned into her space and cupped her jaw. His greedy thumb was already reaching out to caress her silken skin.
They both froze when her face nuzzled into his palm, pupils blown wide with desire.
Soon, her back was pressed against the stucco bricks, his hips rutting against her core to keep her pinned against the incline of the roof. Their hands were a blur as they scratched and raked for whatever buttons they could reach. His mouth wasn’t content with her mouth for long, as they longed for more of her. Desiring all parts of her to consume and use until they sought a climatic end together. His teeth grazed along her neck but kept descending to her breasts to illicit a carnal moan out of her, but he kept sinking.
His tongue made a slow and loud trail of sucks and licks along her sternum before he latched onto her exposed nipple and began to suckle. Tav’s arousal and the slap of her hips against his chest created an irresistible symphony of his senses attuned to her alone.
His eyes traveled back up the expanse of her freckled skin to see blank eyes. A soft moan escaped her mouth without the urging of his body.
Astarion tenderly set her down and stepped away as he wiped at his mouth. Feeling dirty for what he had almost done.
“Tav,” he called out after she hadn’t returned to him.
It was another excruciating ten seconds before her head shook, and she began to put herself back together. Finally, she staggered onto her feet that balanced beneath her trembling legs.
“How long has Harleep been using your body?” he knew she would understand his implied question.
Her hand pushed through her hair, removing the black strands from her face, “it’s been going on all day. I haven’t had a moment of peace,” she admitted softly.
He acknowledged her pain with a hum.Those opal eyes eventually returned to look at him, her jaw flexing and telling him that she was stewing over the words to soothe this over, so he spoke first, “Well, look at that; you are capable of learning.”
“Excuse me?”
“Usually, you’d simper and apologize,” he waved his hand, “and you’ve resisted that urge.”
Tav let out an ugly snort with a shake of her head, “Thanks Astarion.”
He sighed heavily and looked over the horizon, “I suppose I should get you home before the dawn rises.”
--- --- ---
They walked the city streets in silence, but Astarion didn’t feel like he needed to push her to talk. As pitiful as a pair it made them, he was probably the one person who could understand her situation the most. Sure, he was many years removed from his abuse, but it never really left either. So he would be the strong shoulder to cry on if she reached out to take it.
He paused at her stoop, giving her ample space to fidget with her dark blue door in its too-small space.
“Tav,” as he finally broke the silence between them.
“Yes, Astarion,” she returned hoarsely.
“One of us had planned on seducing you- that night on my grave,” he bowed deeply and pivoted away from her open door. Leaving to the sound of her soft chuckling.
Set years after the end of Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion and Tav meet by chance after years apart. This story follows their meetings every year, on the anniversary of the start of their adventures.
“It’s a little early to be lush.”
III-
“It’s a little early to be lush.”
Blaire- Tav returned a bright grin, giggled, and then twirled until she spun so tightly that she scrambled to keep her footing. The crimson ribbons falling from her black capelet strung out and tangled with her erratic movements.
He could only laugh.
“So why here,” Astarion asked, craning his head up at the ostentatiously red-roofed tower. It was an eyesore in the middle of the Uppercity, not that the Uppercity hadn’t seen better days either. But this monstrosity of roofs that didn’t match the number of floors was a curious place to meet.
“Why not,” she shot back with a smirk as she strutted toward the building.
“Bl-Tav-.”
Her head tilted back at him, “But it will be fun.”
“I have no doubt, but what does it have to do with this gauche tower?” He waved his left hand in the direction of said tower.
His companion huffed, implying he should intrinsically know whatever crazy plan she had concocted for the both of them. Her pupils flared as she sauntered by him, with a soft sigh to accompany her. His head and body followed after her as she approached the side of the building. This was going to be an exciting night.
“So, knocking is out of the question,” he pressed, “one specific teifling does owe us several favors by right for gifting him the building.”
Her cowl flared out as she rounded back on him, opalescent eyes absorbing him curiously, “don’t ruin the fun, Astarion. Yes, we could ask, but I think breaking in would be so much more fun. Unless you suddenly oppose breaking in and fun.”
“Darling,” he half snarled, “I never back down from a good time, but there is a teensy tiny problem with this plan…”
“I’ll invite you in; you’re worrying too much. I have it covered.”
His hands went to his hips as his eyebrows rose, “you’ve had too much to drink.”
Tav launched herself at the building, making it to the first decorative eave with ease as she called out behind her, “You reach two hundred and fifty, and suddenly you age out of making illogical choices; what a drag you are, Ancunin.”
“You beastie,” he muttered under his breath as he followed after her, watching her black rump clear the first roof, “fine, torment the vampire. Just don’t cry when you end up with fangs at your scrawny neck.”
“What was that?” she called down, “I can only hear an old man huffing.”
“You little,” it was too soon to use beastie again, so he used that energy in trying to catch up with her. For a drunk person, she sure was moving quickly. He clambered onto the surface of the first roof, trying not to question why scaling the Wizard’s tower was not more heavily guarded against this kind of intrusion. Or how neither of them was a burnt mark left on the side of the tower, only remembered by a perceptive passerby in a moment of curiosity...
It was easier not to question luck when it was provided.
Astarion looked back over the side, he had climbed much further up than it had looked from the ground. Hells, there were at least seven roofs left. Looking back up to his elvish companion, she wavered, a black and white shape against the stone wall. He didn’t keep her waiting out of fear she would imply he was old again—the cruel woman.
His arms began to shake by the third roof, but he was not alone as Tav started to take more frequent breaks. Squeezing her legs together, she allowed her arm to hang loose as she scanned his direction. But she was never close enough that he could see her expression clearly.
By the fourth roof, he had to rest, and his stomach started to protest.
Tav floated down beside him with a plastered-on grin, settling beside him but just a hair’s breadth away from touching him. She swayed to the other side to return to her original position, just barely not touching him. It earned her a short-lived grin as she started to chuckle, as his expression changed to vexation.
“What?” he demanded, a touch too harshly.
Her hand wavered above his shoulder, “I have a spell.”
“Now?” he exclaimed, “when I’m halfway up the damn building?”
She tucked her hand back into her side, “not quite half,” Tav brushed herself off as she stood, “but if you don’t want it.”
“Cast the damned spell!”
She tapped his shoulder and strolled away until the sound of her boots scrapping against the stucco bricks started to speed up as she began to run straight up the side of the building. The realization that the wretched creature had hammed up climbing to torment him. He needed to punish her for such treachery. After he had so kindly picked her up off the bathroom floor and made sure she landed in a soft bed. He hadn’t even snooped, which was big of him.
Astarion took off after her, trying to ignore how disorienting it was to run straight up the side of a building.
He was much faster than his companion and tackled her to the ground. Flipping her over until he landed over her hips. “I’ve got you pinned, darling,” he pitched his voice low, sultry.
She giggled. Giggled.
“This isn’t nearly as fun when only one of us is drunk.”
Tav considered something, her jaw flexing as she worked over the words that came out throatily, “I could help you with that.”
“I’m certainly willing to listen,” his fangs already extended, with his wicked grin.
“Drink my blood,” she cleared her throat to move out of the deeper register that had gripped her tone, “two birds, one stone. You get fed and a little more drunk.”
“If you insist…” he bent down over her slowly.
With her little giggle, Astarion took that as her permission to proceed. His nose brushed over her neck and vein before he bit down. Her moan came a second before his teeth sunk into her flesh.
This was the one sweet vintage he did enjoy, would sample again, and yearned for. This concoction of her heady essence was more her than the taste of her cunt or lips. More her than the salty sweat that coated his tongue or the peach-heavy scent of black hair his nose was nestled in. It evened out with the warmth of her body beneath him, as her hot blood provided her warmth. He pulled Tav in closer to him, cradling the back of her head, excusing it as wanting a better angle to continue his feasting. This act was only made special by virtue of her blood being the first blood he had received willingly, and only for that reason. He fought to keep that reasoning at the center of his reality.
“This is much harder when your throat is moving,” his voice warped and garbled around her neck.
“I’ve got to replace the blood with something,” she expressed flippantly.
“Now?” his annoyance peaked through, “right now?”
“Riiight,” she tucked the flask back under her shoulder.
His eyes narrowed, the look lost into the mass of her hair. He almost lost his appetite for blood. Almost.
Astarion regrettably let her go once her hand squeezed his bicep, “delicious as always, my friend,” his fingers wiping up the droplets that threatened to escape from his mouth after he had helped Tav back upright, “but I still need whatever booze you are hoarding in your little pack.”
Tav rubbed at her neck and tossed him the small flask.
Astarion sniffed it, “Please, not some white wine again, your lack of refined tastes is embarrassing.”
“Just think of what you want to drink,” she replied with a note of tiredness, “it shou-”
Astarion gagged on the drink and spat it out of his mouth,” bloody hells!”
Tav snorted, hiding her mouth behind her hand, “I should have specified booze only at the moment.”
“It would really help if you decided to be more forthcoming,” he half snarled but tested it again, more satisfied with the results of the second round, “rather than just letting me find out.”
“I think that would put a damper on things,” Tav shrugged.
“Or you’re cruel and like seeing me in pain,” the spawn whined.
“I think a little magical backwash is hardly torturous, but if we must continue on with the dramatics,” she gently teased, brushing past him on her way to continue up the build, “can we at least do it while we are moving? We are wasting precious starlight.”
He returned a mocking bow, “Yes, of course. Up the building, we must continue to whatever madness you are leading us into.”
She pressed a finger to her lips as she pressed onwards.
Astarion looked behind him and to the streets that seemed to be behind him rather than beneath him. This was a most interesting spot to attain a meal.
--- --- ---
Tav scrambled over the planter, disrupting more than a few flowers as she went on clearing the Wizard’s balcony. Astarion joined Tav, but with far more grace on the balcony. The air within the balcony was much warmer and far less thin than the air outside the terrace's confines. He brushed the sleeves of his worn brown doublet as his eyes traced the stone floor. Finding nothing out of place at their feet, he looked at the fearless Tav, who worked on the doorway into the tower. The door clicked as she managed to finagle it open.
“Did I mention how much I appreciate you teaching me that trick,” Tav murmured gently as she glanced back at him.
“Lockpicking? I’m glad to be an agent of chaos in whatever form it takes.”
“Take the compliment, Asty,” she walked backward through the door.
He grinned as he approached the doorway, halting at the threshold, “My dear, I assume everything is a compliment.”
“Brimming with so many talents, you must take everything as such,”Tav called back as her eyes searched for something particular.
“I am quite talented,” he smirked, “and beautiful. Not enough people mention that.”
“Are we feeling underappreciated lately, Astarion?”
“Gravely,” he sighed, “but I would settle for being invited into the tower that I was forced to climb, that would go a long way in making me feel appreciated.”
“Riiight,” Tav giggled, “hurry on in. I’m inviting you in.”
The force that repelled him relented as he passed over the threshold. He wasn’t going to squander the opportunity and think about it, lest he suddenly be barred again from entering. Tav was engrossed in something at the desk, so that was an easy point to see to first. It was a boring set of scrolls and several books stacked nearly at one end of the table. She had one unrolled scroll, and her eyes scanned the script. He wasn’t one for scholarly pursuits, so he sought entertainment elsewhere. Enlightening as the elf may be, boring spellwork wasn’t going to hold his attention.
His red eyes darted over the walls filled with papers and books and promise of something to pilfer. His attention drew to a nearby case and the ring nestled within it. With a sly look at his friend's turned back, Astarion picked the lock.
“What in the hells,” a crisply annoyed voice echoed throughout the cavernous room.
Tav’s head swiveled to Astarion with a minimally cross smile before pointing in the direction of the opaque tiefling, “Ahh, Rolan.”
The wizard’s tale flicked once with annoyance before it raised then stilled, “Blaire, apologies, I mean Tav,” the cantankerous tiefling’s voice grew warmer, “you should have knocked.”
“I had the intention of not disturbing you at all, dear Rolan,” she countered gently, but Astarion still felt her words pointed at him.
The wizard fussed with his sleep-disheveled hair, and the octave of his voice fluttered about, “it would have been no bother. Though I suppose I should have questioned why you asked me to leave your materials out.”
Tav returned with her twittering, oh-so-pleasant laugh that revealed just how shameless she was acting, “Much easier, I suppose, but I wanted to keep my skills from getting rusty. I hope this wasn’t a terrible inconvenience.”
Rolan made a pathetic attempt of huffing at her, “Who am I to chide the woman who saved my skin,” if his projection could blush, it would be, “But you made excellent work of it! I had no clue until your… companion alerted me to something happening inside the tower.”
“I’ll make sure to keep his hands from wandering,” she returned with a saccharine smile, “but I have my things, I should let you return to your sleep.”
The tiefling nodded and stole a glance at Astarion, “Good night, Tav.”
The shimmering image disappeared, and silence filled the room again. Tav kept looking at the scroll as if the encounter had never happened as Astarion’s chest began to tighten. He kept his tone measured, neutral, “So, another fan of yours?”
“Meaning?” Tav’s response was a hairline over annoyed.
He cleared half the distance between them, with his top half slightly tilted, “Wizards, is that your type?”
Tav looked over her shoulder at him, “no,” she spoke carefully, “I’d say its moody that encircles...” she paused, then her voice switched to terse, “Is it that outlandish that I may attract some attention?”
“That wasn’t the point at all, darling.”
“What is the point then, Assty,” she spoke with her gentle brand of venom, “we already know my terrible taste in partners, or is it my looks that come into question? Or better yet, some defect in my personality, if I know you, it is the trite naive angle.”
The sound that escaped his mouth was the unholy union of a harrumph, sigh, and a tsk. Astarion hated how disarming Tav could be. He couldn’t come up with anything much more scathing than the observation she had made about herself. Taking the wind of his sails, but this meant more time for him to come up with a better rebuttal that involved none of the words she mentioned. Later, as she had already begun to pack up the books and scrolls left out for her, she gently stuffed them into the sack her flask had come from earlier.
Tav made another pass around him, wordlessly.
He waited for her to say something, anything. Only to watch her clear the balcony and then continue up the building. Astarion looked at the case he unlocked and contemplated just taking the ring despite what Tav had promised the wizard. It would serve her right, leaving him alone like this. But a small, nagging part of him fought against that urge. Ignoring that inkling for good, he settled on following her up onto the roof. Feeling satisfied that he could still attempt to annoy her.
She sat on the roof with one of the scrolls pulled out again.
Taking another long pull from the flask, he settled next to her, watching the breeze stir her hair until he couldn’t languish in silence any longer, “reading anything fun?”
Her opal eyes rounded on him but softened as his barbs were kept at bay, “an experiment I needed help with if you wouldn’t mind handing over that flask.”
She placed the scroll beneath her thigh as she took the canteen back and sliced open her wrist with one of her daggers. Astarion, while sated for the time, watched the blood drip into the open flask hungrily. His tongue wanting nothing more than to lick the blood from her wrist and to continue that up to her mouth. Tav chanted a few words and handed the flask back over.
“Let me know how it goes.”
He tipped the flask into his mouth cautiously and was met with the pleasant surprise of her blood, in a far greater quantity than she had let drip into it.
“It’s not quite the same,” he partially lied.
“But is it sustaining? Enough to curb the hunger?”
“It’s certainly enough to make my head spin,” he admittedly wryly.
Tav blushed, then nodded, “But say I wasn’t ‘lush,’ would it do the job?”
“Yes,” his eyes narrowed, “but what for?”
She looked away from him, excusing herself by patching up her wound, “While the Underdark may be uniquely suited to housing vampire spawn for the time, a more permanent solution needs to be found. Even if not for your spawn alone, maybe it could allow your kind freedom… understanding.”
“You underestimate the allure of fresh, warm blood,” he growled, but for a reason outside the surface of his words.
“I wasn’t implying it was perfect or the end-all-be-all solution,” she sulked.
Astarion found his mouth returning to the flask, not so proud of his need to downplay her achievement. It was a generous and pragmatic gesture. This was a way his kind could provide for themselves without having to play the part of bloodthirsty killers. Allowing some of the spawn some semblance of returning to their lives if they chose it. His selfishness of keeping her blood all to himself aside, he hadn’t deserved her consideration of his struggles. While he held the solution in his hands, he had only seen the fruition of what was likely a longer labor. That nobody but a busybody elf that dared to care for a vampire spawn would even consider solving or thinking about. His tender friend had probably belabored her words that had encouraged him to lead the spawn, leading to the discovery in his hands. He didn’t know how to repay this.
Tav leaned back on her hands, her head following something in the sky. He caught the trail of a meteorite crossing over the shattered moon with a curious blue twinkling. Watching it fade with his companion in silence.
“Huh, a portent from Corellon,” Tav mused aloud.
Astarion rolled his eyes, a god would never give a fig when it related to him, especially to the elven god that his soul was lost to, “probably meant for some other fool.”
Tav chuckled gently, “I’m not looking for validation in signs. It’s just something curious I remembered from a book.”
She didn’t need to explain it away, every elf knew of the god that had kicked them from heaven. And the whispered hopes and signs that they might please the god that may allow their soul to return home someday. Not that Astarion was under any illusions, his damned soul had nowhere to go when another bastard would inevitably end his time on Faerǔn. Tav was more the sort to see the elf heavens in some distant reincarnation, if not this lifetime, if she was motivated for it enough. Tav adjusted herself, pulling up one knee into her chest as she looked over the city, though her eyes remained trained on the stars. Without the pollution of the city lights, they were much more vibrant in the night sky. A rarity to Astarion now that stalked around in the Underdark, far away from the celestial bodies held in the sky. He nursed the flask, a rare warmth spreading over his features as the blood and booze warmed him. A quiet ease overcame him as he joined her search of the stars, enjoying the breeze that gently jostled his hair.
“You know, I knew you back in the day,” Tav started softly, “before the tadpoles.”
“I wouldn’t forget seeing this face either,” his tone turned to match her gentleness after she snorted at him, “but you must have been very young, a mere babe.”
Tav snorted again, “No, I was a waitress in the Blushing Mermaid. I liked taking your tables, you were always tipping well.”
“Hah! With the gold I usually stole from my marks.”
“Makes me feel less bad for snagging up the tips before you could take them back,” Tav looked at him with a smug grin.
“Wretched creature,” he blew out an amused breath but for the death of him could not remember her. It wasn’t the kind of place he imagined her in. Not that she hadn’t proved to handle herself in a fight, but against the jostling and harassment of the most belligerent patrons? It wasn’t her scene. “It still doesn’t bring back any memory or your face, but I don’t remember many of their faces.”
“They weren’t the kind of people anyone missed.”
“Not from that place no,” his mood was starting to sour, so he would change the subject, “but what were you doing there? In that hovel.”
“I ran away from home,” she didn’t seem at all fussed.
“What a few days before you were abducted?”
Tav chuckled and leaned back on her hands, looking directly up at the sky, “wrong again. Must of been some of the human blood still left in my mother, so I matured quickly. I was almost fourteen.”
“Fourteen, well then, that makes things perfectly reasonable,” he half mocked, “I thought you were one of those theater types; why leave that lifestyle when you are still so completely enamored with it?”
“I was,” she laughed again, “but the call to adventure also came early. I wasn’t going to be confined and forced to follow rules. I thought I was so smart and knew better than my father.”
“Ahh, the bane to elvish parents all across Faerǔn,” he gave a dramatic sigh, “but that was an objectively stupid thing to do.”
“Like forcing ourselves into an orge and bugbear mating attempt.”
“The entire excursion into the Iron Throne. They were just gnomes.”
“Reading the Necromancy of Thay,” she yawned.
“Headbutting a stranger.”
“Pffht. Holding a stranger at knifepoint!”
“Fine, kissing a goblin’s filthy feet,” he returned with a pointed finger.
“Slipping a live flashblinder into a Steelwatcher’s pocket.”
“I was challenged, darling. I could be mistaken, but I remember it saving someone’s hide.”
“Compared to the several times I pulled you out of trouble?”
“Silly mistakes, every single last one of them,” his brow furrowed.
“Sure, no troubles then. I’m sure the lava would never have dared to touch you.”
“I’m a priceless treasure, and it would have known to go around me.”
“Uh-huh, just like you would have levitated over the acid pity in the sewers.”
“It knew the wroth it would face if it scuffed my boots,” he replied haughtily.
“And the hand pulling you back meant nothing,” she mused, “I’ll travel back in time and tell that person to be less useful with the aid.”
“Maybe that person shouldn’t have been wise with the hauntingly beautiful vampire in the first place,” he huffed, “you...they were always too cocky with vampire kind in general. Rushing a vampiric master with only your wits and a light spell.”
“I thought it was heroic,” she replied firmly, “besides, it was only to distract him long enough to get you down.”
“Foolish, little beastie,” he sighed, “and here I thought time would dull your need to do good.”
“This tired line again?” she returned with exasperation as her shoulders curled inward and her smile struggled to hold.
“Would you rather reiterate talking me into drinking from another fetid drow,” he intoned slowly, relishing her smile dropping altogether, “or it could be a dragonborne this time; I’ve never tried one of those, fetid or not.”
“Fuck you, Astarion,” Tav pushed herself up and began to walk away from him, her boots clattering against the stucco.
Pushing her temper didn’t relieve the pressure in his chest as it ought to. Rather, he felt guilty so casually mentioning her greatest sin against him. But he could not ignore his role in guiding her to that snide comment. Even if it was after he got a taste of that foul blood, she had pulled him off the disgusting woman. Astarion had forgiven her immediately- it was his own fault for listening to her taunting suggestion. For not respecting his own autonomy, and if he was forced into another zone of truth, his desire to get under her skin. Knowing that she would feel guilty to the point of giving in to him and choosing him over that damn wizard.
The echoing of her feet stopped just in time to catch her taking a step over the edge. Astarion bolted for her, “Blaire!” his voice softened and faded as his hand tried to catch some part of her, “Tav.”
Her eyes looked up at him from where she hovered in the air. The opalescent eyes studying him carefully from under her lashes, her face screwed in slight disdain, “Yes?”
“You jumped off the damn building!”
Tav returned the biggest and most beautiful roll of her eyes, “And you keep snapping at me for whatever emotions you do not want to feel, per usual.”
“Really? Because that’s rich coming from the woman that does nothing but smile,” he sneered at her, “Getting talked down by a wizard? Smile. We have our pride prodded at? We smile. Hells, it’s like you don’t feel anything.”
Tav raised an eyebrow at him, “Gale? Is that what this is about?”
“No,” he floundered, “I don’t particularly care about any God.”
“Gods, you’re a prick,” Tav growled as she jumped back onto the roof.
Astarion folded his arms and waited for an actual accusation to defend himself against. Being called a prick alone wasn’t enough, as it was one of her favorite terms of endearment for him.
The elf exhaled sharply, running her hand along the bridge of her nose and into her hair, “is it really as simple as anyone showing interest in me? The Orc at the Tavern, Gale… now Rolan?”
“You know the Orc is in bad taste; how could you not smell him?”
“Sometimes I forget you’ve been in the ground for two hundred years.”
“You can’t tell me it doesn’t disturb something primal in you?” he purred at her.
Again, she gave him that stunning eye roll, “That’s beside the point, Astarion.”
“So we’re doing this now,” he balked, “sixteen years too late?”
“Yes, we are doing this now. Sixteen years later,” Tav’s head tilted with each word she spoke.
Astarion groaned loudly and made a scene that involved recrossing his arms and a little stomp of his foot. Still, watching her falter over the edge of tension’s sweet precipice was borderline obscene as she threatened to tumble into the depths of the sweetest explosion. Or it could be the liquor in his system driving him to think so hot-hotheadedly.
“You told me I was a mistake, so what fucking ground do you have to stand on in my life,” he felt the anger radiating off of her, and he was drawn toward it, “so back off or shut the fucking hells up, Astarion.”
“When you make it so easy to mock you, I must respond,” he proffered her a play bow, “who else would guide you from terrible life decisions? Especially when you are so...removed from selecting the appropriate playmates.”
He caught the cinders behind her eyes, but the sparks never spewed out to consume him; instead, she chose the kinder option, “You’re on that list, or was that inconsequential?”
His hand flicked away her words, “I have never claimed to be appropriate in any given situation, that would be incredibly dull of me.”
The tanned flesh of her temples flared, and her gaze sharpened. He was happy to keep riling her up like this, it only made her eventual release that much sweeter. Astarion didn’t think she had it within herself to pull out anything that couldn’t bounce off his armor of nonchalance. It wasn’t his fault Tav couldn’t bear the thought of stabbing him back. He wanted her to go low, to cut him back so he had a reason to remove the conflicted tangle of feelings that remained in his cold, undead heart for her. This mortal had too much power over him, and he wanted a reason to take it back to rip out that cancerous part of him.
“Jealousy might be the feeling you are looking for,” she intoned.
Vulnerability was always the best way to incur his wrath.
“Of Gale, really, that almost hurts.”
“I would have picked you,” she admittedly so softly the breeze almost carried it away.
This time, he cleared the space between him, letting the anger flood through him without the pithy attempt at damming it, “No, no. No. You don’t get to say that! You chose the wizard!”
Her lip curled in response, “What after being spurned? It was all rainbows and bloodshed until you randomly decided that I was a mistake. ”
“I wasn’t sleeping with you for pleasure alone. Back in the forest, we both came out on the winning side. The game was clear. You get a moment of escape with a world-endingly beautiful vampire. I got someone to defend from Cazador.”
“Oh?” she huffed before letting a chuckle escape, “we’re back to pretending I didn’t see you were manipulating me? Please, Astarion, give me some credit. My stupidity alone was falling for it anyway. Shame on me for thinking the vampire had a heart somewhere in there.” She returned his earlier bow with a flourishing one of her own.
“That’s funny. Because I remember seeing you be awfully comfortable with several members of our little camp,” he looked at his fingernails and took his time to leave in a long, inconsiderate pause, “You must be confusing lust for adoration, darling.”
“Please, if you were in my place, you would have slept with everyone. I may have relished the attention, but I do not sleep around lightly.”
His red eyes glinted, starting to grasp around what he needed, “So you have to admit you were rather attached to Gale. Everyone knew the wizard was planning something special for the two of you that night.”
“Gods forbid someone actually enjoys your company,” she growled heatedly as he spoke over her, Tav gave up ground as she retreated with a growing blush, “That’s it, wasn’t it? Apparently, not everyone knew.”
“Come off it, you ‘astrally bonded’ with him with little convincing after I stopped our sordid affair,” he had to save face by mocking her to minimize that she had struck far too close to the source of his jealousy. The underlying ineptness he felt around his lack of experience with a real relationship. With what he had wanted with Tav, Gale’s entire plan had revealed how ill-suited he was to pursue something serious, as he could not work his head around such a well-planned and thought-out seduction. He thought in the moment and not for the future. This woman didn’t want his faltering attempt at a normal relationship, and deep down, he knew she deserved much more than his broken heart and body. So he’d keep pushing her away from him like the diseased curr he was. “What did we wait a mere hour after things ended out of respect?”
“Was I supposed to weep? Crumble and be unable to move on?” her arms flew out as he laid out the guilt on her, trying to push away the burden of his shame that he lumped on her.
Astarion snorted, “I could have done with a tear or two. It would have made your claim to care about me believable.”
“And jumping to conclusions over private conversations was the only way to prove that someone really didn’t care about you?” her tone softened, making him want to throttle her more.
“I was proven correct, if I recall correctly,” his words remained razor-sharp and would not yield to her white flag.
“You aren’t the only one who wanted someone to shield them from their problems,” she retorted, “if I could feel butterflies in response to the most hoity-toity laugh, I could certainly find something endearing in the tender wizard.”
“Hah, hahaha,” that ‘hoity-toity’ laugh couldn’t be contained, “how does it feel to be in the dregs with the rest of us?
“I never claimed to be a saint in any given situation,” she made a show of holding her hand up to observe her fingernails.
“Cute,” he smirked, “but you really do need to work on the rolling on your back thing.”
With, likely her third-ever eye roll, her smile returned, if a bit tightly, “I’m aware. But it was once two of us who had that problem.”
Astarion returned her eye roll with one of his own, “I have grown, my dear.”
“So many things to look forward to in age,” she remarked with a barely contained grin.
“The folly of the young,” he tsked as he stepped closer to her. Tav didn’t back away, so he leaned into her space and cupped her jaw. His greedy thumb was already reaching out to caress her silken skin.
They both froze when her face nuzzled into his palm, pupils blown wide with desire.
Soon, her back was pressed against the stucco bricks, his hips rutting against her core to keep her pinned against the incline of the roof. Their hands were a blur as they scratched and raked for whatever buttons they could reach. His mouth wasn’t content with her mouth for long, as they longed for more of her. Desiring all parts of her to consume and use until they sought a climatic end together. His teeth grazed along her neck but kept descending to her breasts to illicit a carnal moan out of her, but he kept sinking.
His tongue made a slow and loud trail of sucks and licks along her sternum before he latched onto her exposed nipple and began to suckle. Tav’s arousal and the slap of her hips against his chest created an irresistible symphony of his senses attuned to her alone.
His eyes traveled back up the expanse of her freckled skin to see blank eyes. A soft moan escaped her mouth without the urging of his body.
Astarion tenderly set her down and stepped away as he wiped at his mouth. Feeling dirty for what he had almost done.
“Tav,” he called out after she hadn’t returned to him.
It was another excruciating ten seconds before her head shook, and she began to put herself back together. Finally, she staggered onto her feet that balanced beneath her trembling legs.
“How long has Harleep been using your body?” he knew she would understand his implied question.
Her hand pushed through her hair, removing the black strands from her face, “it’s been going on all day. I haven’t had a moment of peace,” she admitted softly.
He acknowledged her pain with a hum.Those opal eyes eventually returned to look at him, her jaw flexing and telling him that she was stewing over the words to soothe this over, so he spoke first, “Well, look at that; you are capable of learning.”
“Excuse me?”
“Usually, you’d simper and apologize,” he waved his hand, “and you’ve resisted that urge.”
Tav let out an ugly snort with a shake of her head, “Thanks Astarion.”
He sighed heavily and looked over the horizon, “I suppose I should get you home before the dawn rises.”
--- --- ---
They walked the city streets in silence, but Astarion didn’t feel like he needed to push her to talk. As pitiful as a pair it made them, he was probably the one person who could understand her situation the most. Sure, he was many years removed from his abuse, but it never really left either. So he would be the strong shoulder to cry on if she reached out to take it.
He paused at her stoop, giving her ample space to fidget with her dark blue door in its too-small space.
“Tav,” as he finally broke the silence between them.
“Yes, Astarion,” she returned hoarsely.
“One of us had planned on seducing you- that night on my grave,” he bowed deeply and pivoted away from her open door. Leaving to the sound of her soft chuckling.
my original batch can be found HERE! i got all kinds of angsty and protective vibes took over, but if u think of any more that you’d like to see on the list, shoot me a DM so i can add it!
“ get behind me… ”
“ stay here. ”
“ don’t worry. everything’s going to be alright… ”
“ you shoot anyone who comes through that door who isn’t me. ”
“ when you love something, you protect it. ”
“ i’ll keep you safe. ”
“ do everything that i say, and we might both live to tell the tale of this night. ”
“ when i say run, i need you to do as i say and don’t even think about me. ”
“ get down! ”
“ close your eyes, you don’t need to see this. ”
“ why wouldn’t i save you? ”
“ it’s alright. they won’t be hurting you again… ”
“ of course i came for you… it would take far much more than that to stop me. ”
“ listen to me… i need to go back out there. but i promise you, i’ll be right back. okay? all i want you to do is stay hidden, and i’ll be back before you know it. ”
“ there’s nothing in this world nor any other, that would stop me from protecting you. ”
“ get out of here! now! ”
“ i knew you’d feel guilty; you do understand that i’d take a thousand wounds if it meant keeping you safe, don’t you? ”
“ i swear to you. as long as i’m by your side, you’ll never be harmed. ”
“ it’s my job to keep you safe, yes, but you could work with me a little to make it easier. ”
“ protecting you isn’t my duty. it’s my privilege. ”
“ who did this to you? where are they? ”
“ listen to me. i don’t think i’ll be able to buy you much time. and once i go out there, the clock starts. so the second you hear us fighting, i want you to run. as fast and as far as you can. ”
“ are you alright? “
“ can you move? “
“ why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected? “
“ you’re a good person. good people deserve to be safe. “
“ i’m going to protect you, now. because that’s what we do for the ones we love. we keep them safe. “
“ stay close. whatever you do, do not leave my side. “
“ i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. no matter the cost. “
I'll say it again getting railed on his grave as he uses it as a gateway to start a new life and starts to live again is a million times hotter than whatever ascended astarion is capable of
Set years after the end of Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion and Tav meet by chance after years apart. This story follows their meetings every year, on the anniversary of the start of their adventures.
II--- (TW: Implied Torture/Rape)
Astarion stuck the fork against the table, the sound only slightly dulled by the linen tablecloth meant to protect the table. Glancing around the familiar but vaguely changed room, he continued to bounce the utensil against the table. Eyes eagerly searching for any sign of his friend. He was on his third serving of wine and found himself growing… not angry, but worried. That gnawing worry worked itself to anger as he festered over it longer, his mind unable to grasp onto any more useful emotion. In a fit of overwhelming passion, he threw the fork across the table, clattering as it spun into the sweet white waiting opposite him- but there was no one to witness his tantrum.
His target in the room changed to a face he remembered, albeit fuzzily, to the Orc server from his last visit a year prior. Astarion caught his shoulder, "has Blaire been here?"
The Orc gulped, nearly dropping the multitude of plates balanced precariously in his large hands, "Saer?"
"Blaire," his voice caught, fighting from leaning into desperation, "Blaire Tav, the one responsible for destroying the Absolute.
"One of the many," the Orc's greenish tint darkened to what Astarion credited to a blush.
"Pedantic," the spawn growled, his grip tightening around the Orc's forearm, "you know who I mean, you spent that night all googly-eyed-"
"Oh, Tav… Blaire," the Orc stammered, letting the plates fall to the ground.
"Is. She. Here.," Astarion seethed.
The Orc tried to pull away, shaking his head, "no, Saer, though she had reserved that spot for the night."
Astarion released the man.
"As you are aware, Saer," the Orc added shakily.
He already knew the answer to his lovesick questions and wrestled with it over the last hour. Blaire wouldn't skip out on him, not like this. Not without a warning, or at least some word of how sorry she was for whatever was slowing her. Perhaps the elf had found a particularly sad-looking worg and had her arm bitten off at the elbow. Or, she heard a child down in the sewers. The insane woman was far too prone to solving the woes of anyone and everyone around her, and often without them asking. So she would never skip out on their new tradition, not when Blaire would practically beg and bray for an ounce of his attention. Not when her guilt would eat her from the inside out. She was pathetic, naive, and impractical, but she was the most genuine and kind person he had ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Or, he knew something was wrong when her message had ended abruptly. But why was he responsible for her? He wasn't the hero type; he was tragically busy and a bit miffed that she was missing their appointment. Whatever her excuse, it was uncouth. She was a foul beastie that he had not a lick of care for. He should have never sought her out in the first place. He had no more room for heartbreak where it involved Blaire.
Astarion tarried outside the overpriced tavern, pacing back and forth in front of the building. The message replayed in his mind, 'Astarion, usual time and place? I have-' He had of course, responded with confusion, but still, over a day later, no answer had come- no sign of his friend who wouldn't dare to ditch this little date. He thought over her message again and again as he had over the last few days of his life.
Where would she even be?
She was predictably sentimental, so the Elfsong Tavern was a good first bet. He found himself baffled as he questioned the head barman, who proved that this was a complete and utter waste of time. Putting on his more disinterested airs, he made for the exit, fearing less that he would be recognized this many years later. But just in case he was set on seeming as unavailable as possible, an upturned nose could keep a few bystanders out of his way. Besides, now he could have claimed to try and find Blaire; that was certainly enough.
Perhaps he shouldn't leave, salvage what time he had left in the city before he needed to return home. His hunger had been sated, but he could still manage to feel a little peckish.
So, in the fashion of a true vampire, he found the darkest corner and sulked there. He didn't want wine, which he was trying very hard not to be upset about. Along with certainly not noticing how his fingers refused to stop fidgeting with the mouth-like pommel of his knife. One a certain elf had thrown at him after ending Orin, that delightfully deranged creature. His other hand moved to his opposite blade with a similar but not matching maw, another find by his friend. It wasn't very pleasant to be reminded how many times these blades had saved his skin, and by extension his friend. He removed his hands from the blades, content to scratch at a speck of food that had dried on the table.
The seat across from him moved with a grating screech.
"I'm not in the mood for entertainment," he didn't deign to look up, "or to entertain."
The figure didn't move and slid over a glass.
Astarion looked up at the hooded figure, a sharp nose and black hair among the sparse notable features he could pick out. His face fell into a frown.
"Look here, friend," he cursed as his voice lilted, "I'm not available."
His ear perked at the tinkling of many coins crammed into a small pouch that smacked into the goblet just in reach of his arm; his tone lowered, "I could be convinced."
The chuckle emanating from the masculine voice only jerked the hook deeper into the proverbial fish, "This is a prepayment for a job."
Astartion laughed, "What makes you think I am for hire? Or that you could afford me?"
"You are the Astarion Ancunin, a friend of the Hero of Baldur's Gate," the voice said evenly, with a distinct lack of tone, "if I am not mistaken."
"The Hero of Baldur's Gate, ha," he laughed in his unbridled manner, "she always gets all the credit. The poor wretch would have died long before she saved the city without me."
"Hmmm," the man went quiet, his pale blue eyes glittering beneath the hood in a passing flicker of candlelight, "what would it take to encourage you to retrieve her again?"
Astarion leaned forward, "what do you know?" His hand jumped to his knife; he hoped to resort to unsavory methods of extracting information. This could turn into a fun night, after all.
The man smiled from behind his cup. "Tav was last seen coming out of The Blushing Mermaid; she hasn't reported to the parliament in two day's time."
That was just in time with the interrupted sending…
The pale elf grinned, pouncing from the table with a flourishing bow. One object left the dirty table.
The hells were filled with overpriced and obnoxiously sweet whites.
--- --- ---
Once he hit the vicinity of The Blushing Mermaid, the particular odor of her blood drifted into existence for his senses to feast on. The heady mixture that was his first taste of thinking blood and the one he found his mind wandering too often over the years, only because it was his first was it at all special. It was positively wrought into the ship head that carved out the bawdy tavern's unique profile, but the newer scent pulled him along. He also retraced his steps over a decade ago through these same streets but with a group surrounding him. It was foreign to reflect on those times with a sense of loss rather than the persistent annoyance he felt for the loud and strange group that had ended up saving the city. Really, the world as far as he was concerned. Astarion glanced around, casing over the alleyway before he followed his nose into it further. It wouldn't do now to get attacked and robbed.
There it was, the recently disturbed utility hole that led into the Sewers. How fitting.
Just when he had worn his nice boots.
This little adventure started to feel like a horrible case of déjà vu when the trail led him over a large sewer pipe and brought him to a room with valves. He remembered the arguing that had ensued over how to get the valve open, as an enraged Karlach accidentally smacked the wheel that popped open the metal door. He wasn't expecting a few sandwiches short of a picnic ranger, but was it going too far to expect this to be another Zhentarim plot? It was horribly predictable of them to be using the same spot years later.
Though, several more concentrated currents of blood caught his nose as he skulked through the sewer pipe, and not a lot of noise to back up the scuttling of an active camp. Something was very amiss.
Not as much murder; he was a little put-out.
Nearing the pipe output, he slowed again and stuck his head out—nothing, well, nothing living. There were a few brutally murdered bodies; judging by the congealing of the blood, they were recent. It was almost warm enough for him to feast from, but the general odor of the sewer didn't make his stomach particularly keen on that option. Another miracle this day had provided him. He cleared the small lip the pipe provided, then stalked forward again to be met with no movement and no raven-haired body. What a -
A blur hailing from the landing above him came down upon him; something sharp took purchase in his shoulder joint. He cried out as he shoved the thing away from him, sending the blur splashing into the fetid water. The black-haired shape crawled out of the sewage and came at him again.
Astarion was ready this time and disarmed his Blaire by letting her scramble over her own feet when he was suddenly not in the way. When she found her feet and came at him again with her fists, he caught her waist and wrist. She lunged against his embrace, but somehow he held her tight.
"I'll ignore that attack, if only to save myself the apologies later," he put on his best smirk.
She had one last good lunge in her, and he was forced to let her go.
"Blaire?" he repeated as his words seemed to bounce right off of her, "Gods, is there no thanki-"
Her blue, bordering on white eyes were wide and streaked with red, much like the time she had come crawling out of Harleep's room in the House of Hope. Last time, she had not been missing one of her lapis earrings and her clothes torn to hanging limply from her body, but it was the same disheveled look and raw violation behind her eyes he knew well. So he approached with bent back, an open hand, and a lover's tone, "Blaire?"
The elf put space between them, but her spine straightened.
"Gods," he swore softly, one foot moving forward.
She took several more steps back until she crashed back into the water, scrambling back up the other side by her hands.
He went still, tone wavering on gentle, "You survived this. But you can't stay here, darling."
Finally, indignation shone through her eyes, something, anything to replace the terror. This time, she didn't move away as he came for her. Even allowing him to drop his nightshirt into her hands, he looked away as she made short work of stripping herself out of the poor excuses for rags that hung on her shivering frame. At least in his shirt, she wasn't so exposed and a degree less putrid.
His hand moved to his shoulder, finally inspecting the wound. It stung like the hells, but for now, his connected extremities were not turning numb, "I did promise to forget the accidental stabbing, but a nice cure wounds would not go amiss."
His companion was silent; the weight of her stare bore into him.
His eyes wandered over her again, taking a stock of her injuries. There was the traditional bruising and cuts accompanied by blood, but his gaze settled on her gnarled fingers. She stuck them behind her back, but they both knew what he had seen. Blaire looked away from him, her jaw flexing as she did.
"I'll take that as your spells are depleted for the day," her gaze returned to him with those words as the corner of her mouth threatened to smile.
He returned a smug smile, glad to see something of her old self returning.
With another long silence and his own sigh, he continued this very one-sided rescue, "I don't want to smell you, so would you mind terribly if I draped my cloak around you?"
Her head bobbed, so he surrendered his cloak with as minimal touching as he could muster. Swearing to catch a lightning-quick smile, "This is a dreadful place; I can get us out of these sewers. But I'm not sure how to reach your… accommodations."
Her mouth opened and closed slightly, and instead of speaking, she headed out the way they came. Unphased, Astarion tagged along beside her; being quite the gentleman, he kept this gaze pointed down as they ascended the ladder back onto the city street. He wasn't allowing her to slip down the ladder, so she had to go first. It was a slow climb, but he was a master of tact and kept any comments to himself, even if he was chaffing at the lack of accolades for his daring rescue.
Once they cleared the street proper, he could no longer hold back, "so it's just follow you, in silence? I know we're friends and all, so we shouldn't be scoring each tit for tat, but a 'thank you' or 'I'm sorry for missing our dinner' at least would be appreciated."
Her head tilted at him, and he saw the just-kicked puppy look coming before it formed. But still, nothing came out of her mouth.
"Blaire," Astarion sighed very, very heavily, "don't make me beg. Even if you must resort to calling me a prick."
Her gaze returned to the ground; the light from a nearby torch flickered across her pained face before her mouth opened. Revealing a lack of anything but pink and red flesh and the black pit of her throat.
"Blaire," but her name was uttered softly this time, "Gods. Fuck." He moved, if a little subconsciously, toward her. Following some desire that was alien to his cold heart.
She flinched before the touch that did not reach her.
"Gods, you're-" he bit back that response, softening his expression and posture, "the sooner we get you cleaned up, the sooner we can see to getting you to a cleric."
--- --- ---
The journey to Blaire's felt like one of his most perilous adventures; on the surface, it was simple. Get his friend home, presentable, raid another one of her coin purses, then to a cleric to see if they could bring her body back to order. But as the long and narrow streets came between him and his first goal, he realized the undertaking this would be. A few rowdy patrons of the bar shouted at the scantily clad female as they passed. His fangs may have stopped one group, but it did not stop the attention of the numberless crowds they had to work through. Then Blaire began to slow, out of exhaustion at one moment, and at the next, a face in the throngs at random would send her into a complete panic. It was necessary and disgusting to pull her into him to keep them moving. After the initial recoil, she seemed to calm under the weight of his arm, tucking herself further into his side where she must have felt safe from the faces and noise of the city. It worked for them as she could guide him with gentle tugs as they sailed far past the Elfsong Tavern and into a deeper and more winding path into the Lower City.
After a good hour and a half's walk, he found himself directed before a dark blue door placed on a wall far too small to fit a home. He looked up at the figure who climbed the set of stairs, and unlocked the door with a wave of her curled hand. She stopped to look back at him as he remained frozen on her stairway.
"I hope you have a way of inviting me in," another drawback of no longer being infected by a mindflayer tadpole.
Her eyes narrowed in thought before her head directed him through the door with a smooth flick.
"This is on you if I start screaming," Astarion muttered as he crossed the threshold; interesting, implied consent was enough to let one of his kind in, "that was certainly instructive."
But Blaire had already bee-lined deeper into the house. Sure, it was cramped, but nothing like her doorstep had promised. The house let in streams of moonlight that could not have come from the outsides surrounding the house. He saw part of the Grey Harbour from one of the kitchen windows, and he would have to inspect the view further, but it seemed to rest at the height of a second-story building. In the dull light of the night, he could see the stripes and shapes of hues that promised worlds of color in the daylight, but his attention turned to the opening of a door around the corner from the kitchen. He had more important things than snooping to attend to at this moment.
She looked at the tub, grimacing. And naked.
Unbothered by her current state, she carefully drew up his hands and shaped them into a cone. Or the best she could with her gnarled fingers that trembled under her attempt to guide him. Blaire then pointed to a scorched mark beneath the spout and valves of the tub. Her head then tilted at him, waiting for something.
"Ignis," he murmured gently, jumping back as his magic was drawn into the spot.
Blaire was already in the tub, letting the near-boiling water run over whatever part of her body she could fit under it. Soon, she dumped entire buckets over her head until the water ran clear, and her hair lay flat against her face. Oblivious to the water turned her skin a deep red that grazed upon blistering. Astarion kept respectfully reapplying the spell until the now-plugged tub was filled to the brim with soapy water and floral scents. Finally, she sunk into the porcelain tub with something resembling a sigh, drawing a cloth noisily through the water.
"What is it now," he asked the pale eyes that stared at him.
His reply was the sloshing tub that accompanied Blaire with a dripping washcloth held in her hand as she leaned over the tub.
"Don't be stupid, you barely scratched me," with a dagger who had seen who knows what.
"Hells, you aren't going to let this go, are you?"
He removed his layers until the gash on his shoulder was completely free of obstruction, doing his best to look unbothered as he struggled with the movements required of that arm. Her big guilty eyes watched him bravely, putting just as much effort as he did into making her pain seem smaller. At least she flinched harder when pressing the cloth to his wound than he did. Blaire was frustratingly gentle. Especially given that her fingers struggled to follow her directions and the weakness that she refused to heed. Unable to watch her struggle any longer, his fingers tenderly moved over her fingers. Guiding them the best he could, but her face etched in pain despite his best attempts to be careful.
"Blaire," he held her hand against his shoulder, "I won't pretend to be a skilled healer, but I know a little about brittle fingers. They need to be reset before they heal crooked."
He looked at her intently, sure to capture her eyes, "do you understand what I have to do?" His fingers grazed over the back of her hand.
She looked away, but gave him a nod. His fingers made a lazy circle over the back of her hand until the extremity relaxed.
"I'd give you something to bite but," he tried humor, unable to ultimately identify if it was useful, "there's no tongue left in that annoying mouth of yours. But on the count of three. One."
He wrenched the first finger on the first count, her mouth opening to let out nothing but a sharp whistle of air. On two, with a rolling motion, he crunched the rest of her fingers a sickening set of snaps at quick intervals. On three, he was out of his body and in another time entirely, back in that awful dungeon, with only a voyeuristic skeleton that watched as he snapped his fingers with mindless determination. The order spiked through his brain with the force of nails being hammered through wood, bidding that he do it again. Again. Again. Again. Until Cazador let him bind his fingers, sometimes days or weeks later after another round of breaking his fingers all over again; after all, what was the use of his pretty pet if he left it disfigured?
The sound of her panicked sobbing woke him from the intrusion as he held her other hand far too tightly. He was doing nothing to help her fingers but squeezing them roughly for no reason other than prolonging her pain. When he released her, pity returned to her expression, those pathetic and guilty eyes that had already forgiven him. When any sane person would have left him with the first press of the dagger to their throat. Astarion was angry, angry at the woman who kept giving him a chance to ruin her life. All that anger did was encourage her to hide her face, cutting off what little communication he had left with her.
Astarion began to bind her fingers, but with a more careful hand. It was a familiar movement, but doing this for someone else was novel. He would ignore the hum that escaped his mouth and the unpleasant warmth growing in his chest. But her eyes returned to him, with her chin perched on her arms that rested on the lip of the tub once he had finished.
"I'm sorry," he finally admitted, feeling compelled into explaining himself.
The goody-two-shoes only tilted her head curiously.
In a moment filled with sheer stupidity, his finger grazed her cheek, smoothing away some of the hair that clung to her face.
She responded with utter insanity by nestling her face into the palm of his hand. Her eyes daring to flutter closed, in a sickening display of trust.
"Ah, I appear to be interrupting something," the voice drove them apart, and Astarion's hand drove for his dagger.
The water sloshed all over the tub as Blaire scrambled upright with hiss of pain, staring at the guest in shock.
Gale held his hands out, his mouth barely holding a smile, "now, no need to bow; we are still friends, even for all my glorious changes."
Astarion's face held a snarl, though he tried to sound blasé. "Interesting timing you have."
"Nice to see you still have a bite," he looked at Blaire with a warm smile, "you aren't looking quite as well as I had hoped."
The vampire's eyes rolled, "good to see that the status of Godhood does not render you from being infallible. Or is it negligent?"
Gale returned his attention to the spawn, the smile bordering on a frown, "excuse me?"
"Oh," Astarion huffed, looking at his nails, "just thought a god would keep better track of their lovers. It seems poor taste for someone of your caliber."
The god raised an eyebrow, the energy in the room ticking up a degree, "she had it handled; we all know Blaire can handle herself," Gale looked back to the frozen woman, "Can't you? You were always thinking on your feet, ambitious."
Part of this god's appearance was starting to make sense, "she is capable, yes. But not immune to trouble. So how much trouble would have to befall her before you would have interceded on her behalf?"
He found two sets of eyes glaring at him.
"You know, the time in other planes moves differently," his eyes shifted too quickly, a rare remnant of his human years that betrayed he was lying, "but she was lucky to have you on her trail. Very lucky indeed."
"Gale, you remain a terrible liar."
The deity glared but ceded this battle for the moment, turning back to Blaire, "Come on, do you believe him?" he opened his arms and took a step forward, "Anything to get the rest of us in a tizzy."
Her jaw flexed as she worked to fight the moisture budding in the corner of her eyes.
"Blaire?"
Astarion scoffed, "Gods, she is unable to speak."
With a hand-wave from Gale Blaire's body healed entirely, bruises fading and her wounds stitching closed before his eyes, her bandaged hand went first to her mouth. Her fingers awkwardly ran over her cheeks in order to feel her returned teeth before she spoke, "What do you want, Gale?"
Astarion loathed how his heart skipped at the sound of her voice.
"Can't I want to see my old friends again?"
She looked up from the bandages she was unraveling, her sharp glare replacing her words. But the former wizard matched her game with a smile. But they still battled with the flickering of their eyes before Blaire spoke again, "if we have to be difficult."
She cast a spell around them that he did not recognize, then folded her arms tightly. Sending another nonverbal message to the god with a tight frown, daring him to act. His shoulders fell as he backed down, with a grumble, "Fine, have it your way."
"What do you want?" she asked again.
Gale hesitated, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
Blaire shuddered as she stepped out of the tub, barreling directly for the god with a tenacity that was brave but more than likely suicidal, "So no hide nor hair from you in over a decade, and now that you're here… you have nothing to say? Least of all, no thanks for settling your affairs, comforting your mother, and being there for Tara in her last days?"
The last point made Gale give a slight flinch, "You have a point."
She closed her eyes for a long moment; anyone else might have expected her to shiver from the cold, "why are you here now? Since even a simple 'thank you' is hard for you to choke out."
"I was wondering if you had reconsidered the entire Ascension decision," his tone wavered, holding something back.
She glared at him.
He cast the same spell she had earlier. The two bristled, staring at each other in a way that reminded him of two alley cats about to fight, "So, what is your answer Blaire?"
Her gaze fell on him, not in a get me out of this way, but as somewhere else to look, "I have a question for you first."
Gale gave a slight bow, "anything you require."
"When is my birthday?"
Gale looked perplexed, "I don't know."
Blaire's shoulders dropped, "forgive me for the accuracy, given my unawareness of the hour. But it was today."
"I suppose a late happy birthday is in order," he murmured.
"Can you at least tell me what year I was born?"
"Blaire I-"
"1474," she interjected, "not that any of you cared to learn much about me."
"Gods, I seduced a child!" Astarion exclaimed, for a reason he didn't fully understand.
Both of them turned to him again; Blaire looked away quickly, wrapping her arms around her breasts, while Gale's anger grew.
"You slept with him?"
"A few times," they both answered.
Gale rubbed at his nose, "I always knew there was something going on between you two. Little adventures late into the night and whispers that would stop the second I neared. I tried so hard to believe it was friendly, even after… Even after I had made you choose between us?"
"No," Blaire replied, "nothing happened after that."
"Not for lack of trying," the vampire blathered.
The God's posture relaxed, "I should have known, with your wandering heart. You never seemed content with me alone."
"You threatened to blow up on me, Gale," her tone started gently but rapidly replaced with anger, "what was I supposed to do? I cared greatly about you but feared that would push you over that edge."
His eyes narrowed, "I see. Had I been more charming, more seductive, would you have been happy?"
She faltered, "I'm not sure."
"Then why stay at my side?"
"Pity, loneliness, fear," she looked at Astarion, and he looked away from her, "guilt that I would cause your death."
"So, I was convenient then? After you learned the spawn only had pretty words to offer you," Gale's voice was a low rumble.
Blaire's jaw flexed, and her body wavered with the panic filling her eyes. She didn't answer him, but it was far too late. The deity held a slight disappointment as his shoulders still slagged, but not to the degree Astarion thought a scorned lover would possess.
He nodded, calculating his next thoughts with frightening clarity, "did I ever truly have your heart?"
"For a few moments perhaps, completely no."
"Did he," Gale's voice was calm, "at any point when we were together?"
"Completely."
He nodded again, "would you ever have ascended with me?"
Blaire grabbed her wrist, massaging it gently, "you know that answer."
"I know," he gave her a gentle smile, the smile faded as he looked at Astarion. It did not warp into anything further than a sentiment of neutrality, "it was time we had that conversation. To end things formerly, as it were."
"I am glad to see you well."
Gale smiled at Blaire again, "You too, friend, but I assumed it would be a fully dressed kind of reunion; I feel woefully overdressed," he turned his back, "but a lengthy word of advice before I leave you. If you stop looking for the complicated answers, the answers to your 'ambitions' are obvious. I'd also stick to dining in that restaurant."
She glared in his direction again, "Ao got your tongue?"
The god winked before disappearing.
"Go visit your mother before she is gone," Blaire murmured into the space he left behind.
"Is there anything else world-shattering you need to admit to?" Astarion whined, no longer feeling like he had to physically keep his jaw clamped to stop himself from divulging secrets.
"My name is actually Tav," she laughed, but in a forced way that did not belong to her, "Blaire is my last name."
"I know I've been underground for years, but people-pleasing stopped being cute years ago," he murmured, a slight snarl resting at the corner of his lips.
Tav smiled, "the moody thing you're playing at stopped being edgy decades before my time."
"You beastie," he huffed.
"I deserve that," she looked over him, "sorry for the dramatics that permeated the evening."
He raised an eyebrow at her, "Darling, this evening was an absolute delight."
