WIP Whenever: my silly writing
Thank you @gloura for tagging me. I will leave the tags open!!
I haven’t worked on anything lately except one of the scenes I wrote and my BG3 house level. So I’m going to upload the scene again :3
Llewelyn is having nightmares, he has a hard time adjusting to normal life even after being out of the underdark for years. His husband, Astraeus, helps him cope with the nightmares in the middle of the night. (Idrk how else to describe this scene, it’s angsty, it’s domestic, I wrote it in a few hours before my night shift on Thursday. I hope you all enjoy).
Llewelyn is 5 years old. There is blood on the stone outside his house. A coppery smell fills the air. Thick crimson stains his hands and his shirt. His father is scrubbing his clothes, angrily glaring at him. The man who had tried to hurt him and his father is gone.
Llewelyn is 8 years old. His first time in the temple. His father did not want to pick him up to see the priestesses below. His mother made him. There was man on the altar. The priestesses chanted, the room began to fill with frenzied voices. Digging their blades into the man, they left him split open for Lolth. The man's screams echoed through Llewelyn's ears. His abdomen was shredded, his blood pooled on the altar, dripping onto the floor. His eyes empty and dull. That same copper smell fills the air. The chants and cheers muffle against Llewelyn's thoughts. This could be his fate. This could be his fate if he invoked the wrath of Lolth.
Llewelyn is 90. His blade is piercing the belly of Kalan, his first love. His breath on Llewelyn's face as he grips his shoulder. Almost close enough for a kiss. The sheer terror and shock within Kalan's eyes bore into Llewelyn. The Matron and her men blurred, he could only see Kalan's face. He could only focus on the light dimming in his eyes. His body falling limp. His blood on Llewelyn's hands. Llewelyn felt himself panting. The smell of it all and the sight of it all made him want to puke.
Kalan's eyes, the man on the altar, his father washing his clothes. Blood pooling at his feet, something grabs his ankle. Blood rushing to his waist, something grabs his shoulder. He tries to scream as he's pulled down. Things clawing at him. The smell of it all. The sight of it all. Kalan. The man. His father. Bodies. Blood. Gore. It follows him everywhere. Lolth's curse follows him everywhere.
Llewelyn jolts awake, covered in a damp sweat, breathing heavily. Even in his trance he cannot find respite from his past. It looms over him like a shadow. As he sat at the edge of his bed, he felt another body stir.
"Which one was it this time?" Llewelyn sat staring at the wooden floor, trying to compose himself. Unable to face the man talking to him. He hated being seen like this. Especially by his own husband.
"There were a few different ones," Llewelyn paused and peered over his shoulder, "go back to sleep."
Llewelyn felt a hand rubbing circles on his back, a chin on his shoulder.
"Let me stay awake with you. Please." He could hear the pleading in his husband's voice. He could feel his eyes burning into his skin.
"Astraeus…" Llewelyn sighed. He hated being loved. It was one of the hardest things he let himself do. Letting himself get dissected, hoping every piece of him would be swallowed and savored as it was. Even now after so many years of being together he still could not get used to how loved he was. Astraeus had seen the barest parts of himself and still chose him time after time. He was not used to being loved but he could not stop it, so again, he let himself be dissected.
He met his husband's eyes, golden and worrisome. Just as he thought. A tinge of guilt surged through Llewelyn as he looked upon Astraeus's freckled face. He was going to push him away, again, and why? So he could suffer in silence? Pretend everything was okay even when his husband knew things weren't? He could not spend a lifetime doing that to him.
Astraeus took Llewelyn's hand and led him down the stairs into their kitchen. Their footsteps creaking throughout the house. Starlight twinkled through the windows and danced upon the floor. It wasn't the first time Llewelyn woke up in the dead of night, and it wouldn't be the last.
Llewelyn sat at the kitchen table, watching as Astraeus put on the kettle for them. His golden hair messy, his eyes still lidded with the remnants of sleep. Even in his tired state he still radiated beauty. Astraeus turned to see Llewelyn staring and flashed him a quick smile before going back to making their tea.
Setting the tea down on the table, Astraeus sat next to Llewelyn and took his hand. There was a moment of silence that hung in the air. Llewelyn knew he would not be pressured to speak but the silence killed him. His body was numb, images flashed into his mind. He had to speak or he'd be consumed.
"I… I was 5. I saw my father cleaning the blood off my clothes. He had just killed a man who had tried to kill me for accidentally destroying his crops. Then I was 8. In her temple, my first time. I saw my first sacrifice. I can still hear that man scream. I don't even know who he was or what he did. Just that he was to be made a spectacle of. Then I was 90 and… and… gods there was…so much blood…" His voice trailed off.
His mouth had turned to dust and his chest had grown heavy. Astraeus said nothing in response, not that there was anything to say anyways. He pulled Llewelyn close, kissed his head, and gently rubbed his arm. Llewelyn breathed him in, the scent of cinnamon and honey. Silence washed over them again. There was a tenderness to it this time. Llewelyn pushed away the scenes flashing in his mind. He tried to focus on Astraeus. His gentle touch. His smell. His skin. He wanted to crawl within Astraeus's chest and nestle himself into his heart so he could feel his warmth and his love for eternity. So they could never be apart. Where he'd be safe from the nightmares forever and where Lolth's curse didn't dare follow. Instead Llewelyn buried himself into his husband's neck and muttered,
"I wish you chose someone else. That you loved someone else. Someone who isn't me. Someone normal who won't wake you up in the middle of the night with his nightmares." Llewelyn felt Astraeus's hand on his head, his fingers in his hair. He felt him sigh. Then Astraeus brought his hand to his chin, gently lifting his head so they were face to face. Sorrow was plastered across his face. A deep pain was set in his eyes, they looked duller than usual. Something that often occurred when Astraeus was saddened by something.
"Why do you speak so ill about someone I choose to love? I wake up in the night for you and sit with you not because I have to but because I want to. I love many things and none you talk down on. But the thing that I love the most, you loathe. I love you, every part of you, and I wish you could accept that," Astraeus paused for a moment, stroking Llewelyn's cheek, "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you." Tears welled in Llewelyn's eyes, his words were so soft and gentle and he could not stand it. They struck him like a knife, he was being carved up again, he could feel every inch of himself being laid bare for Astraeus. He did not deserve such tenderness but he could not continue to hurt his love like this. Burying himself into Astraeus's neck, tears streamed down his face.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." Llewelyn's voice was hoarse as he cried into Astraeus.
Astraeus's arms tightened around him, he continued to rub Llewelyn's back. Whispering reassurances into his ear, kissing his head and ears. Llewelyn could feel him trying to hold back his own tears. For many years they laid their lives on the line for each other, ready to sacrifice everything for the other. It was easy, Llewelyn does it without a second thought, rushing into danger just to give his lover a chance at life. Yet something as simple as this was agonizing for him. The act of being loved. Being cared for. Sometimes he fought tooth and nail to resist it and it was hurting the very man he trusted his life with, whom he loved more deeply than anything else.
They sat like that for few moments, Llewelyn listening to Astraeus breathe. Listening to his heart thrum in his chest. Trying to settle into the comfort of his lover's touch. He was here with him. Alive. Lolth's curse had not gotten them yet. Not completely anyway. But it was tearing at them and Llewelyn couldn't let that happen.
Llewelyn picked his head up, through glossy eyes he looked at Astraeus and whispered,
"I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And I will try to love myself for you." Then he kissed Astraeus deeply and passionately, trying to savor every part of him, every part of this moment. As raw as it felt, he never wanted to forget this. He wanted to cling to this act of love and devotion, he wanted to carve it into his flesh with all the other acts of love and devotion Astraeus had showed him. He wanted to devour him and be devoured, so that they could be one, so that they could never part. To become an ourobous of unyielding devotion.