Ingoria was once a Silverhair Knight of Eilistraee--an oath of redemption paladin--and devoted her life to The Dark Maiden. Through her faith she became one of Eilistraee’s greatest assets, infiltrating Lolthite houses to rescue the imprisoned and to sow rebellion where hope was forbidden to bloom, a light to the lost.
Drow paladin Elendar goes for a swim after the Nautiloid experince. It is his first chance to spend some time alone and reflect on last few days. (And you have 100% chance of being slimy and gross after the Nautiloid, which will not do at all.)
If we ignore the game logic excuses there is no reason why the gang could not bathe in the river. Just dip in you cowards, how cold can it be?
This painting was partly inspired by Astarion's line: "It's never good news with a mysterious voice, is it? Always 'warning, demons', never 'warning, nymphs bathing nearby'."
But would 'warning, paladin bathing nearby' be a threat, a warning or a chance for good time?
I'm taking a brief detour from "Her Harper, His Sufferer" as I wanted to humbly share my first BG3 one-shot with you lovely folks here. I wrote this in a frenzy on a cool November evening last year when I was 2 weeks into my debilitating Astarion brainrot, and happened to find the draft yesterday and made some light edits and I'm being super vulnerable and putting this out into the world. 🫣
This is my first time sharing writing on Astarion and I'M SO NERVOUS. I don't know if it's good or not, truly, but I know it's what I needed to read to control the brainrot infestation lol. Loosely follows canon but I also take some liberties in the story. May or may not share this on A03 as well - I'm terrified by the thought of that! 😬
Context: Moonleaf is a Seldarine Drow, Gloom Stalker Ranger. She loves the Underdark with all her heart. Achingly kind and gentle with others.
Content Notes: There is physically touching and kissing an unconscious person without their consent. 18+ MDNI
Word Count: ~3.6k
Is this anything?? Is this interesting or does it just read like chaos from my brainrotted mind? In any case, please enjoy! 🤪🤪 You can also read on A03 if you prefer ♥️
Note: I do not use Gen AI in any of my writing whether in fanfiction or my posts, and I do not support Gen AI in any capacity.
--------------------
Moonleaf gasped and awoke from her trance in a cold sweat as harsh, shrill screams pierced the quiet night air, springing up from her bedroll and stumbling haphazardly out of her tent as her eyes attempted to refocus on her surroundings. She noted no obvious signs of struggle in the camp, the central campfire softly flickering in the darkness and sending crackling golden embers into the air. Her eyes scanned across each tent as she looked for any indication that her companions had been harmed.
No one else from camp seemed to wake from the mysterious noises. Shadowheart's tent was quiet and unmoving, Gale's tent stood encased in Silence for reasons she felt weren't her business, Wyll laid fast asleep in his bedroll just outside of his tent, always preferring to sleep directly under the stars, Karlach's snores loudly reverberated off the fabric of her tent, no movement was apparent around or inside Lae'zel's tent, and...
Her eyes landed squarely with two rubies fiercely shining at her through the darkness as Astarion peered out of his tent looking extremely irritated, his face coming into view as he wiped off the blood that was scattered across his chin.
"You know, it's always good to rest after a hunt. It helps the digestion, after all. Not that I would know anything about that since apparently all I deserve is this incessant noise!" he snapped, his voice getting increasingly higher and dramatic the longer he spoke. He rolled his eyes in a huff and angrily emerged from his tent, crossing his arms and stomping off towards the woods to check the perimeter of the camp.
"You say that like I caused that noise," Moonleaf whisper-yelled after him as she sprinted around the camp, her eyes wrinkled in concentration as her head darted back and forth across the wilderness that surrounded them. She stopped when she saw Scratch running towards her from the stone ruins in the eastern part of camp, whimpering and angling up his head to beckon her to follow him. "Please, mistress, you have to come with me, it's our friend!"
Moonleaf turned around and saw Astarion stomping out of the wilderness shrugging his shoulders at her, irritation still deeply etched into his expression. "Astarion, it's Scratch! Something's wrong with the owlbear cub."
Astarion scoffed and gestured his arms in a dramatic flourish. "I think you'll find that you did cause that noise, my dear. Because apparently we all must suffer from your inability to let a single worthless creature face a shred of harm, so you bring them all back to us," he said sarcastically with a tinge of bitterness.
Moonleaf sighed and looked up towards the clear, starry sky, her vision skating across the sparkling constellations that told of ancient tales. Having only traveled with Astarion and the others for a few weeks now, already she had grown accustomed to being the object of his constant scorn and ridicule. Nothing she ever did was right, and he made sure that she knew that. He balked at every decision she made, every suggestion she offered, and every action she took. She didn't know what she did to upset him so much, an unknown that sat heavy in her chest as she had only a few days prior admitted to herself that she had developed feelings for him.
He was gorgeous, of course, but it was his sense of humor that had taken her heart by surprise. He'd whisper quips into her ear while she was trying to conduct business, causing her to blush and stumble on her words. He'd tell jokes that seemed like they were specifically made for her enjoyment, watching her intently as he eagerly awaited her laughter. And then, in the same breath, he'd go back to insulting her. She didn't know what to think about the mixed signals, although deep in her heart she had hoped they might be able to explore something together.
She imperceptibly shook her head. No. Don't do this, Moonleaf. You'll only get your heart broken again. He had made it explicitly clear how much her very existence seemed to disturb him on a fundamental level. Maybe it was because she was a drow. It certainly wouldn't be the first time someone hated her for that despite her personally doing nothing to earn their vitriol. Whatever the reason, she knew that the ache in her chest couldn't remain. She would let the crush fade into a silly memory and nothing more. It would be easy. Easy.
More composed, she slowly exhaled and lowered her head to look back at Astarion. "Let's follow him and see what happened," she beckoned. Astarion, looking thoroughly exasperated, theatrically sighed and plodded along just a few paces behind her, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.
As they reached the stone ruins, she spotted the owlbear cub on his straw bed covering his eyes as he curled up into a ball while whimpering and shaking. Scratch trotted over to the cub and nudged him with his nose before raising his head to speak to Moonleaf.
"Mistress, can you do anything to help him? He's been having nightmares again. It's about the goblins, I think."
Moonleaf nodded warmly to Scratch and began speaking in a mix of Common and Deep Drow as she cautiously moved closer to the cub.
Astarion sighed and crossed his arms, grimacing as he turned his head towards the side as if to look for validation from someone else that she was, indeed, being ridiculous. His face, however, quickly softened as he gazed back at her with a hint of curiosity.
"Hey, hey, baby. Ssussun. Shhhh, abbil, I'm here, sweetheart. Come here," she cooed as she smoothed his feathers, the cub waking with a jerk of his body and then gently crawling over to curl himself into Moonleaf's lap. She began stroking his head, rocking the cub slightly in her arms as she continued to whisper soothingly into his ear.
Something then began to happen that Astarion certainly did not expect. He helplessly watched as his brain inexplicably lingered on a vision of what it would be like to be held by her like that. To feel her fingers running through his curls, gently rocking him as his back pressed against her and she whispered Deep Drow in his ear. To feel safe.
As quickly as the thought arrived, it dissipated into revulsion as he shook away the uninvited intrusion into his mind. No, he despised her and her ceaseless intrusions into business that wasn't hers. Didn't he? Yes. She was a liability. Each day they risked getting closer to ceremorphosis, and she selfishly took them away from their path every time she met a wounded animal or someone whining about their problems that paled in comparison to their own.
No. He would be happy for the day when he could part ways from her, forever.
Or had he been lying to himself that he didn't enjoy the ache in his undead heart when she laughed at one of his jokes, covering her mouth as though she was embarrassed of her teeth. That he didn't love whispering cutting remarks about someone's outfit into her ear, seeing her eyes go wide as she'd blush and whisper "stop," nudging him in the ribs with her elbow while suppressing a giggle. That he didn't spend an hour each evening coming up with new jokes to tell her just so he could watch her laugh.
She never stared at him the way the people at the Elfsong and the Blushing Mermaid used to. As much as he wanted her to compliment his appearance, even if just to engage in petty vanity, she never did. She just laughed at his jokes and seemed to genuinely enjoy his presence, despite everything he threw at her.
He knew he was horrible to her. He didn't know if it was an overcorrection from his fondness for making her laugh, or a subconscious reaction to the idea of even beginning to slightly trust someone. No. Don't do this, Astarion. You can't trust her. You can't trust anyone here at this camp besides yourself. Even if you care about them.
Even if you care about them. His mind racing at the implications of this realization, he cleared his throat to break the silence, composing his voice into his trademark polished croon. "Well, it seems you have things quite covered here. I think I'll retire to my tent now." He turned and then paused before looking back over his shoulder. "Goodnight, my dear."
"Goodnight," Moonleaf whispered, holding his gaze for a moment and tenderly smiling before looking down at the cub.
Astarion drifted back to his tent, although he had no intention of trying to trance. Instead, he pulled out a needle and thread, sat down facing the stone ruins, and began mending his doublet which had been ripped during their battle earlier that day with gnolls. From that angle, he could directly see Moonleaf without it being overtly obvious to her. He felt a compulsion to watch her, to study her, to know her movements.
She rubbed her eyes when she was tired, twice on each eye. She often smiled to herself, for no rhyme or reason. Every so often, she ran her fingers across the bite marks he left on her neck, looking devastatingly and beautifully vulnerable in the aura of his possession. His marks.
He loved studying her.
Hours passed as the cub would repeatedly fall asleep in her arms only to wake up thrashing and screeching moments later, Moonleaf patiently whispering to him in Deep Drow and smoothing his feathers. Even from a distance, Astarion could tell she looked exhausted. She was always beautiful, gods was she always beautiful, but the circles under her eyes looked dark purple against the contrast of her grey skin, and the subtle rose tint that usually graced her cheeks was now replaced by dull sallowness. His unbeating heart ached at the sight of her.
The nightmares were eventually fewer and farther in between, until the cub had been peacefully asleep in her arms for about ten interrupted minutes. Scratch, drifting in and out of sleep, whimpered his thanks to Moonleaf as she gently laid the cub on the straw bed next to him, the dog immediately nuzzling up to the warmth of his feathers. She gave them both a kiss on the head, and rose to her feet to begin making her way over to Astarion, stumbling for a few steps as her legs had fallen asleep. He grumbled as he tried to regain his composure, exaggerating his focus on his needlework.
Her soft, unassuming voice pierced the silence of the evening. "I think he's finally calmed a bit," she said, her gaze traveling to the ground as she rubbed her hands together, a nervous tick that he had grown to find quite endearing. "I'm sorry that it woke you up." She smiled warmly as she turned her foot towards her tent, pausing before taking her first step. "You can feed on me tonight, if you'd like."
He started to roll his eyes at her, but then stopped. He didn't want to do this with her tonight. The mask. The game. The performance. No. Not tonight. Something was shifting inside of him and he didn't fully understand it, and that scared him. Even if he couldn't name what it was, he knew how he felt. What he wanted. Gods, to do what he wanted. It was inconceivable to him after 200 years of enslavement. And he knew that what he wanted tonight was to give her tenderness.
"Darling, are you quite sure? You look utterly exhausted after wrangling one hundred pounds of owlbear for the past few hours," he crooned.
She waved her hand as if to dismiss his words and gave him a gentle, albeit slightly delirious smile. "Of course I'm sure, the offer is there in case you still feel hungry. I'm going to head to my tent now and try to trance, but you can just come and start whenever you're ready."
He nodded gently, and watched as she lightly tapped back to her tent, the fabric closing behind her leaving him and his complicated feelings to bask in the sparkling embers of the campfire that had begun to slowly die down. He stared down at his shirt for a few moments before standing up resolutely and walking towards her tent. He pushed aside the tent flap and stepped within, the motion briefly illuminating Moonleaf's face in the glow of the campfire. She hadn't fully slipped into her trance yet but her peaceful expression suggested she was starting to drift into a state of blissful mindfulness.
Astarion's brow furrowed in confusion as he felt himself smiling warmly down at her, as if his mouth had gone rogue and acted out of accord with the rest of his body. He kneeled down and placed his hands on either side of her head, moving to position the rest of his body above hers and encase her in his embrace. He placed his hand along her jaw and softly tilted her head to the side to reveal her neck, and delicately sank his fangs into her skin.
"Hi," she smiled weakly. "Take as much as you need."
"Thank you, darling," he replied between healthy gulps. As more of her blood poured down his throat, he felt his body begin to warm as she raced through his veins. Gods, it always felt incredible. Gulp, after gulp, after gulp, he felt lost in her, lost in the ecstasy he felt from her essence.
He lifted his head after a few minutes and saw her lips had gone pale, his cue to swallow a final gulp and lick her wounds clean. "Delicious as always, my dear," he murmured, sitting up next to her and bringing up a finger to wipe the corners of his mouth. She offered a weak smile and gently lifted her hand to brush against his forearm, her eyes barely open. "I'm glad I can help you feel happy."
Astarion's brow wrinkled in concern as her hand fell to the ground and her eyes flitted shut, a soft gasp escaping her lips. He leaned in against her neck to listen for her pulse, noticing it was faint but persistent. "Moonleaf?" he whispered. Silence. Her chest continued to rise and fall, but she remained unresponsive after a few moments.
Shit, he muttered under his breath. She had passed out. He should have been more careful feeding from her so enthusiastically when she was already so exhausted. He was tempted to ask Shadowheart to assess her but felt himself restrained by shame. He did this to her. Just like he almost did the first night he ever fed from her. And several more times after that, each time Moonleaf waving off his apologies and saying she was happy to help him. Gods.
He leaned back down and pressed his ear against the pulse point on her neck. Her pulse was still consistent, although weak from the combination of blood loss and sheer exhaustion. He felt defeated as he sat up and looked at how pale she had gone. He couldn't leave her alone like this.
He lit a candle in the corner of the tent and placed it on the bedside table she had salvaged from Waukeen's Rest. The candle's soft amber glow danced across her face and body, illuminating her beauty in a way that made Astarion gasp. Gods, she really was beautiful. He had, albeit with disdain for her soft, weak heart, admired her from the moment she approached him at the wreckage site. He had pulled her down to the ground and held a knife up to her neck, her earthy, woodsy scent complicating the rage he felt when he thought she was behind his capture and his tadpole affliction. Centimeters away from her face as he told her to "Nod" to his leading questions....
As if in a daze, he moved to reposition himself so he was hovering over her again, his nose almost touching hers as he studied her features with a mix of desire and curiosity. His eyes traveled across her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, admiring how the vines tattooed across her face contrasted beautifully with her skin. Even in her palled state, her skin was hauntingly beautiful, like dense clouds that blanketed the sky during a thunderstorm. He ran a finger up and down her cheek and across her jaw, letting his thumb come up to caress her soft pinkish grey lips...
Snapping back into reality, his face contorted at the realization that he wanted to kiss her. Not just wanted to, he needed to. The first kiss in 200 years where he could ensure it wouldn't have the expectation of leading to sex. It could just be what it was and no more.
He didn't want to sleep with her anyway. Well, that wasn't quite true. He did...but he didn't. He couldn't. He didn't want to associate her with the shame, guilt, and regret he felt for the last two centuries. As much as he didn't want to admit it to himself and certainly not to her, she was special to him. He couldn't taint that by sleeping with her.
But he needed to kiss her. And he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from doing so, even if it meant taking advantage of her while she was unconscious.
He tentatively leaned in and pressed a light kiss just beneath her ear, lingering for a moment and breathing in her scent of sweetened balsam and cardamom. He had grown to associate that scent with safety.
Slowly, he lifted his head to rest his forehead on hers. "Oh Moonleaf. I know I've put you through a lot these past few weeks," he murmured, stroking her hair with his long, nimble fingers. "But I need a bit more from you tonight. I hope you can forgive me." He pressed a soft, gentle kiss between her eyebrows, before moving his gaze to her lips. "I need this, darling."
He hesitated for a split second before pulling her into a soft, passionate kiss, her lips warm and weak and unmoving beneath his. He felt his hips begin to quietly move against hers as he gently sucked on her lower lip and nudged her mouth open with his tongue. His kiss became more passionate and furious, his tongue caressing hers while he desperately raked his fingers through her hair, her body shifting up and down in concert with his as he continued to grind against her. He was lost in the kiss for longer than he had kept count, often switching pace from voracious and unrestrained making out to sweet, pillowy soft kisses while he ran his fingers up and down the smooth skin of her arm.
Feeling how both of their lips were swollen from stimulation, he broke the kiss and stared at her in an expression that was part shock and part infatuation. Gods, it was exhilarating to hold her like this knowing that he didn't have to disassociate through a night of sex. He wanted to return his lips to hers, but he noticed her pulse gaining a small bit of strength and deemed it too risky.
He would stay for the night until her pulse returned to normal and she regained consciousness. And, if he happened to use that opportunity to hold her, to feel her warmth, what would be the harm in that? She wouldn't be any the wiser, and then come tomorrow morning, they would go back to normal.
Normal. Yes, normal. He would continue to insult her. He would keep rolling his eyes at every decision she made. He would tell her jokes and smirk when she laughed at them. And nothing more. Normal.
No. He couldn't go back to normal after this. Something shifted within him that had to be acknowledged, as much as he didn't want to. He grimaced bleakly as he noted how infeasible it would be to repeatedly feed on her to the point of passing out just so he could kiss her again. She needed her strength for doing what she did best: leading their group through impossible obstacles with unpitying compassion and relentless, infuriating hope. Plus, he couldn't hide from himself how much he wanted to re-experience that moment while she was awake, his eyes closing as he imagined her soft lips kissing him back, her hands running through his curls...
His eyes snapped open. He couldn't make sense of the unpleasant emotions he was feeling. Guilt? No, why would he feel guilty? He deserved a gods damn sliver of genuine connection with someone after 200 years of pure torture. His brow furrowed as he thought on it for a moment further, until the emotion running the chaos in his mind stood out as clear as day in front of him.
Dread.
He wanted more chances to kiss her like this. To hold her like this every night and nuzzle against her hair. And he knew that in order for that to happen, he would have to offer his body to her. He would have to seduce her. The way it had always been. That's all he was worth, right? It was silly to believe that she would pursue something with him without the prospect of being intimate. Of course that wouldn't be the case. That she could love him just by virtue of him making her laugh.
Astarion grimly scoffed to himself. At least if he seduced her, he could make sure she wouldn't turn on him and would protect his standing in the group. Even considering this benefit, he still felt disgusted at what was waiting for him in his near future.
The realization felt like a searing knife plunged through his chest. But, he would worry about that in the morning. Not now. In these sacred moments, he would savor this safety he felt as he held Moonleaf in his arms and cradled her head against his chest, nuzzling his chin against her hair and paying close attention to the strength of her pulse so he knew when to quietly exit the tent. She couldn't know about tonight. She couldn't suspect anything.
He pressed a long kiss onto her forehead and squeezed her in his arms, her warmth slowly but surely returning.
"Rest well, my Moonleaf."
-----------------------------
I'm going to tag @cinder-rellish181 and otherwise no one else because I'm a scared baby and not sure if this is any good or not LOL so I'm just going to put this out into the world and see who comes across it 🫣😂
