thank you so much @adrielmancy. I'm so grateful for your friendship, and for you loving my giant woman, and for you commissioning @vetochkarowan to draw her with her bat boyfriend c:
we’ve got new camp clothes, the stripped down version for bath time.
taking time away from sex during Astarion’s relationship arc means intentionally developing space for nonsexual intimacy, which both of these losers deeply need 🖤
tysm to @voyeuristicbeast for drawing my sweet creatures, the pose is perfect for them! I love how they draw earssssss and I wasn’t expecting to love the white eyelashes, but it’s adorable.
I also love this reference I made for them.
I realized I forgot to put this here! I commed this artwork of Nerys (the dark urge) and Astarion having A Moment when they run into Araj again in Act 3…and then I wrote a little scene to go with it. ~2700 words, just a bit suggestive (no smut). Also a bit of violence. This was a nice warmup.
the artist is crossing_cosmos on instagram.
here’s the AO3 link if you prefer.
There was a loud boom, accompanied by the sound of a dozen windows shattering. An explosion? Nerys felt her body go rigid automatically, bruised ribs seizing painfully. A reminder of how many hits she’d taken fighting Ethel’s underlings in the basement, trying to keep the damned wretches alive. They’d managed, but only just. Her eyes darted automatically to Astarion, who had dropped a few inches into the barest approximation of a wary crouch. Then a familiar voice crept through her veins and made her blood run cold.
“Ah, the heartstopping blood sucker. I hope you’ve changed your mind. My neck is yours, anytime.” Araj Oblodra. She had assumed they would never see that vile woman again after Moonrise. Just the sight of her made Nerys’ jaw clench. She could almost hear the pleading note in Astarion’s voice again as he had asked if she was trading him for a potion. Her cool green eyes suddenly grew sensitive to the sunlight as they dilated sharply, as that all too familiar whisper started up in her head, urging violence at whatever cost. The paladin shoved the intrusive thought down and swung her head back toward Astarion, watchful.
“And I will keep refusing until the end of time. I’m done bowing to the whims of others.“ He looked down his nose at the woman with evident disdain, but his face…it was so calm. Before, she’d always been able to see the animal edge of fear when it surfaced beneath a sneer. Now, he was impressively unrattled in comparison to the rage that felt like dragonfire spiraling up Nerys’ throat. Lately it had been getting harder and harder to control the emotions that threatened to pull her strings, and where anger was involved bloodthirst followed swiftly behind. She could only assume that as they got closer to her Father’s temple, he was tightening his hand around her neck.
Meanwhile, since they’d vanquished Cazador, Astarion seemed to have attained a sense of peace that, while not consistent, inspired a sort of awe in her. He had always had the better sense of self preservation between the two of them, but now that was paired with a kind of levelheadedness that was almost disconcerting.
“Never say never,” Araj murmured, leering at him. Nerys took a slow, shuddering breath and raised an eyebrow in subtle question. Karlach stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the stairwell with obvious interest. Gale, too, was uncharacteristically quiet, although the distinct cringe of distaste was written all over his face.
“Oh, she doesn’t bother me that much,” Astarion said dismissively, brushing something invisible off his impeccably oiled leathers. “If anything, I pity her.” Then Araj was banging on about her blood again. Nerys wished she had never given her that vial, but at the time her blood hadn’t seemed all that precious a commodity. Now, the idea of someone so vile having even the smallest piece of her—especially given how wrapped up her blood was in her intimacy with Astarion—made her skin crawl. Nerys’ mind wandered as she struggled to calm her raging nervous system. It wouldn’t do to lose control; she knew her companions were wary about the recent revelation that she was in fact a Bhaalspawn, that their sweet hothead of a leader was likely a clear and present danger to them all.
Everyone except Astarion, although she was certain he was afraid—if not of her, then for her—and putting on a brave face for her sake. Her chest ached at the thought; she knew attaching himself to anyoneafter what he had been through was challenging, and of course she’d turned out to be the worst choice imaginable: someone who was inextricably bound. Someone doomed. The thought was sobering. Self hatred almost pulled her back from the brink of certain derangement, from the grip of the urge—and then, suddenly, she heard the words “prize bleeder” fall from Araj’s lips. Astarion bared his fangs automatically. Not completely cool and collected, then. Nerys’ eyes hardened to chips of jade.
“If you’d come inside, we can discuss something far more interesting than drow politics.” The paladin only nodded, stalking forward into the dimly lit house. It was scorched from the explosion and smelled foul, like old blood and burnt hair.
“Err, Nerys?” Karlach said uncertainly. But she ignored her friend, stepping into the shadows after the retreating alchemist, and then into Araj’s personal space. Her armor creaked as she crossed her arms over her chest, her broad shoulders suddenly more apparent as she loomed over the other drow, freakishly tall as she was for her apparent race. She tried not to think about that; it was just another reason this woman set her teeth on edge. A reminder of a place she could barely remember–but a place she’d certainly never belonged. Araj seemed oddly undeterred. Nerys couldn’t tell if it was a product of arrogance or simple stupidity. Most people seemed to be able to tell by her eyes that they should be afraid, at least, although they rarely seemed to be expecting it from a paladin. She went on and on, extolling the benefits of her life altering formula Gruna. Nerys merely stared at her. Gale cleared his throat, his right hand twitching in telltale warning. He looked nervous about what Nerys might do, but also like he didn’t wholly disapprove of casting fireball as a matter of course.
“Give it to me,” Nerys said simply, holding out one large hand.
Araj grinned. “Oh, marvelous! I’ve never been so excited about anything in all my days. Just…stand over there. Far over there, and drink up!” Nerys’ hand closed around the elixir, her fingers dark around the bottle’s unsettling shade of glowing red. She didn’t move an inch.
“That better be going down the drain and not down your gullet, darling," Astarion scoffed. She couldn’t really blame him. She’d done more than her share of reckless things in their time together, demonstrating very little regard for her own safety—sometimes to his benefit. Araj blinked up at her, waiting eagerly. Nerys lifted her hand and held the bottle up for a long instant before smashing it against the splintered wooden floor. The alchemist gasped, her lip trembling for a moment before her eyes flashed. She shouted something about the height of her research, but Nerys was already drawing Symphony, glowing runes illuminating the gloomy space as the sound of the blade singing echoed ominously. The other woman dodged, skimming her dagger across the steel of Nerys’ pauldron, and the metal shrieked. Nerys laughed, and the sound echoed unnervingly through the enclosed space. Symphony glowed with radiant energy as she drew back to strike again. Apparently Sarenrae hadn't yet seen fit to abandon her, despite her persistent thirst for violence. Perhaps even she could agree that this woman had it coming. Araj darted forward again, but Nerys kicked the dagger out of her hand savagely. In an instant, her blade came down hard, sinking into the smaller woman’s abdomen. Blood sprayed onto Nerys’ face. Araj choked out a protest, scrabbling for her knife—but suddenly Astarion was at her back, his dagger buried between her ribs. There was little challenge to it all. They had grown considerably stronger since they’d first met her. Astarion’s face was painted with its customary sneer as she fell, but there was something subtler glinting in Astarion’s eyes.
“Feeling protective, my sweet? That was hardly necessary, I must say.” His tone was lightly mocking and affectionate all at once, with an undertone of mild concern as he bent to check Araj’s body. He rose swiftly enough, slipping a ruby-studded ring into his pocket without comment.
“I wanted to make sure I never had to hear her harangue you about biting her again,” Nerys said tonelessly, attempting to subdue a borderline gleeful expression as endorphins rushed through her bloodstream. The joy of killing, still prominent as it ever was, but they had killed far fewer since ensconcing themselves in Baldur’s Gate, particularly compared to the number of people they’d come across. Along with the tightening of Bhaal’s leash, it was a recipe for disaster. Astarion could still tell. He could always tell. He lifted a hand casually, brushing bloodspatter from her upper lip. Given the revulsion Araj’s blood had provoked in him from the start, Nerys appreciated the gesture. A grateful expression as Astarion drew his hand down, pressing his cool, tapered fingers against the inside of her wrist. A silent, grounding recognition of the way her pulse was hammering against her skin.
“I’m almost positive she was about to draw that nasty little dagger anyway,” she added with a shrug, gesturing at the wickedly curved blade with her foot. Nerys’ eyes skated over the room, catching sight of Karlach’s open mouth and Gale’s hand still cupped over a flame.
“I determined it might be prudent not to intervene in this instance,” he mumbled, extinguishing the spell with a single gesture. “Come now, Karlach. Let us see what useful objects this wretched woman had in her possession.” Nerys was sure that Gale had been curious about that potion. Let him poke around, then. Karlach merely nodded, her wide amber eyes tugging at Nerys’ heart as she turned away. Perhaps she might not judge the quick turn to violence generally, particularly where something like vengeance was concerned…but in the wake of the revelation about Nerys’ urges only days ago, things might be different. Especially if they were thinking back on what had become of Alfira all that time ago. She sincerely hoped they were not. She would have to smooth things over with Karlach later, but Nerys found, selfishly, that she only really cared about one person’s attitude at this moment. The one who had been with her through this for months already, before she’d told anyone else. As their companions disappeared down the stairs, Nerys shifted her weight forward and slid her hands behind Astarion’s thighs, abruptly lifting him into her arms. He grumbled halfheartedly, wrapping his arms around her neck.
“I am not some damsel in distress who needs you to protect my honor, you know,” he said, tapping a finger to the tip of her nose.
“I know,” she said simply, burying her face briefly in his neck. His skin was deliciously cool against her heated forehead. “You seemed fine, actually. Supremely unbothered.” Her voice was muffled against his neck as she huffed a breath of his citrus and rosemary scent, close enough to smell the damp earth that lingered underneath. She’d once compared it to grave soil and he’d been scandalized, but it was practically a compliment coming from her. “It was me who was distressed by that freak licking her lips.”
“Yes, well, now I know that I don't have to do anything I don't want to do," he said carefully, smoothing her sleeve where it bunched beneath steel plating as she pulled back to meet this gaze. It still sounded a little like something he was trying to convince himself of. “I am now free to be my spiteful self, my dear, at whatever cost,” he added, smirking. “So what do I care if she’s drooling for something she can’t have? Or she was,” he sniffed. “Though I’m not sorry she’s dead. That rank smell dies with her.”
“Mm, yes, well I’m glad I don’t get full marks for disapproval,” Nerys said dryly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Besides, you were positively terrifying,” Astarion purred, “and far be it from me to turn down scary dog privileges.” He nuzzled his nose against hers as Nerys shifted his weight in her arms. She laughed quietly to cover the pang that the word terrifying provoked, given that their companions certainly seemed to think so just now. But…the way he was looking at her was nice, anyway.
“Oh, you like that, do you?” Nerys murmured, pressing his back against the banister to hold him aloft as she lifted one hand to stroke the pale, pointed line of his ear. Astarion shivered.
“I-I rather like watching you grind my enemies’ bones to dust, yes. As long as…” he paused, flicking a piece of bloodied hair back from her face. “Well. As long as you stay you.” He tilted his head, his red eyes searching hers assessingly.
“Trying my best,” Nerys said softly, eyes flitting briefly downward. She dreaded making the trek to her Father's temple. It seemed impossible to survive defying someone who had made you from his blood.
“Darling…” A smug, catlike grin lit her lover’s pale face. Performance, to be sure, for her benefit—but with some true emotion beneath: pride, arousal, likely a result of her stroking his ear. “Doesn’t that wretched murder god know he can’t have you?” Astarion countered. “You’re mine.”
“Possessive creature,” Nerys said, wrinkling her nose. Her hands wandered down from his lower back, fingers slipping down to curl around the curve of his ass and squeezing it in retribution.
“Cheeky,” he replied, not quite a scold. This freely sexual energy between them was new, and intoxicating. Nerys’ eyes darted down the stairs—but no sign of the others yet. She turned back to Astarion, drinking in the sight of his beautiful, mischievous face. Her head felt clear now that she’d indulged the urge. Her persistent headache was gone, replaced by a kind of exhilaration, and she could hardly feel her bruised ribs anymore. She felt good, and regardless of why, she wasn’t about to squander it. She had to make the most of the time she had left, especially with him.
“You know,” Nerys mused, pulling Astarion closer. “I don’t think you have to tie me up tonight…I feel good.” Then she kissed him, her lips promising more as they moved against his and provoking a surprised hum of approval.
“Is that so? Does that mean I get Commander Nerys tonight?” Astarion asked with a wicked grin, calling back to their tussling for dominance when they’d first been on the road. Then he leaned forward to lick a cool stripe up the unbloodied skin of her neck. “Or are you going to be sweet for me?” Nerys snorted, but goosebumps rippled up her arms as he dragged his fangs over the sensitive skin next, and she bit her lip to suppress a gasp. But just as she was expecting to feel sharp teeth buried in her throat, she heard Karlach cackling behind her.
“Well, I see that things are back to normal around here,” the tiefling said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Indeed, the usual sense of decorum,” Gale said ruefully, one hand on his hip. “Shall we loaf about here all day? We got everything from downstairs,” he added, holding up a bloodied pack with a grimace. It clinked loudly. “Plenty of loot for someone who poisons his blades, and very little for me, as it happens.”
“Nothing for the bomb squad,” Karlach agreed solemnly. Gale looked annoyed, but Nerys giggled.
“Yes, yes, wizard, we’ll be with you in a moment,” the vampire huffed, wrapping his arms tighter around Nerys’ neck. He no longer seemed embarrassed to be seen in her arms, which was marked progress. Gale sighed heavily and retreated through the open door. Karlach winked and followed. “This is to be continued,” Astarion said once they were gone, ears drooping slightly as his lips fell into a pout. “Since someone saw fit to pick me up and touch my ears, you dreadful tease.” Nerys laughed, lifting him another few inches by the seat of his trousers to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Later,” she promised. “And sweet, assuming you’re not too much of a brat this afternoon."
Astarion’s smirk returned, and the tips of his pale ears turned slightly pink. “Oh, splendid. I’ve got a sweet tooth today.”
TL;DR the dancing represents a compromise for them as their relationship matures. Because despite their similar journeys, they have markedly different interests. Lucky for Astarion, Nerys will do pretty much anything for him ✨🩷💙🩵✨ The compromise on his end is mostly letting her see his emotions. Whichever ones show up. That’s worth everything to her.
They’re standing on uneven ground to dance, don’t worry about it 😜 (Nerys is 5 inches taller but almost no one makes bt2x3 poses.) It takes awhile for Astarion to coax Nerys into wearing a proper dress, but this tailor wore her down eventually…something starry helped ✨ along with it being made to her measurements, since she always feels too big when she tries buying things usually.
Nerys is of the partially feral durge persuasion, and always resisted taming. Even as a youth, she was always rebelling against the noble pursuits her foster mother was shoving down her throat, and dancing definitely falls under that umbrella. Also formal dresses. Because nobody insists on formality like washed up nobility…but with some help, she can shed those associations and enjoy Astarion appreciating her in nice things.
This is Nerys and Astarion after the events of the game. Healing is a gradual process, especially after surviving the apocalypse. Both of these freaks are still a mess for a long time after, but this is them starting to figure out how to just be for a minute.
