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Your Peace
Screenshot: @cheekylittlepupp GIF: @astarionposting
An enormous thank-you to @gelican-gelicant (Gelican AO3) for beta-reading tf out of this. (and being my first beta-reader uwu). I highly recommend checking out their works, as they are my number 1 favourite.
M/F Astarion x Female Tav - 9.8K words
Warning: Graphic depictions of violence
Summary: Astarion is tactful and precise, while Tav fights like a brute with no decorum, which leaves her badly injured after every battle. Astarion teaches barbaric Tav a lesson by besting her in hand-to-hand combat, but Tav wants Astarion's hands on her in more ways than one.
Tags: predator/prey, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, choking, oral sex (female receiving), play-fighting, rough sex, feral Astarion, feral Tav, light bondage, smut and fluff, 2 sex scenes, realization of feelings, mildly dubious consent, aftercare, soft Astarion, blood loss, vampire bites, creampie
Read on AO3 (Recommended)
It had been another uneventful day, each one bleeding into the next; another goblin-overrun village to loot, another set of monsters to bargain with - this time, a surprisingly intelligent gaggle of ogres; and one more day without a solution in sight for the damned tadpoles invading their brains.
The sun setting on the camp, the group began to shed their armour. Astarion heard the clinking of mail and breastplates reverberate throughout the clearing; but not a sound from Tav's tent, who often opted to go without. Preferring close combat, she always felt it somehow hindered her ability to fight well - she insisted on her preference for lightweight leather and linen, at the cost of returning to camp covered head-to-toe in not only the blood of their enemies but her own as well - a perpetual caul of intermingled ichor.
This never seemed to bother Tav, however. If anything, she viewed battle scars as an honour, never complaining about a wound that didn’t reach her internal organs. But Astarion didn’t match her cavalier attitude, eyeing her scored skin with unease.
His approach was in stark contrast to hers, talented with a bow and arrow as he was, and nearly invisible when striking from the shadows. He followed a simple rule: to strike and to not be struck. The signs were subtle when he initiated a battle - not a cry or shout from an enemy spotting him - but by a foe falling to the ground with a punctured jugular, or tumbling to the ground with an arrow between their eyes that they hadn’t even seen coming.
His technique and precision earned him an unspoken right to first blow in most of their assaults, whereas Tav's methods in battle were the opposite; though sloppy and uncalculated, she was a hard hitter. While he struck the first blow silently, she oft landed the finishing blow with a bang - finishing what he started. Astarion was never one to blanche at the sight of blood, but not every one of their companions were so jaded to seeing crushed skulls with brains spilling out; Gale could often be found emptying his stomach after the more gruesome of the massacres Tav created.
While their symbiosis was effective, Astarion had bitten his tongue for weeks to keep from chiding Tav’s tactless strategy - or lack thereof. Despite her rugged constitution, she could not be infallible forever, and he did not want to be caught mid-battle with their best fighter downed on the day she learned that lesson the hard way. Tav was going to end up in the enemy's hands, or dead. As his travel-mates relaxed, he fretted over this thought and realized unsettlingly that the thought of her bloodied and limp turned his stomach infinitely more than the sight of a hundred of the skulls that she crushed like old fruit.
It was then that an idea came to him. He’d show Tav how easily he could best her in a fight - then she would start taking her self-preservation more seriously. Having gone a full day with barely a speck of trouble, he knew they both had stamina for sparring. He could challenge her to hand-to-hand combat, proposing it as a game.
And from what he knew of Tav, impulsive and brutish as she was, there was no way she would turn down his proposition.
__________
The sun had begun to fall, only a sliver of daylight colouring the sky in purple and amber hues. Astarion was washed up and in fresh night clothes, and Tav sat by the fire, warming her hands. Astarion approached from across the tall flames, standing in front of her with his hands on his hips.
"Hey Astarion," she said dully, before gazing back down at the fire and hugging her knees.
"Hi, dear." He eyed her inquisitively. "Bored?"
Tav looked back up at him with wide eyes. "Yeah, well - we didn't even get to murder any evil bastards today." She averted her gaze downwards before mindlessly rubbing the scars on her forearm. “It helps take my mind off of things. The pain, I mean. It gives me something else to focus on.” She let out a heavy sigh.
Astarion paused before responding. Her words were befuddling to him, planting a seed of worry in his mind. He had plenty of things to keep his mind from drifting to, whether that be his inevitable clash with Cazador or the ever-looming threat of illithid transformation; so he would sew or read, like a normal person. Pain was something to be avoided, not sought after in some hapless attempt at distraction.
”Are you aware that you're a bit self-destructive?" He asked, crossing his arms and clicking his tongue. He shook his head at her. "My dear, we all need you alive. You can't keep throwing yourself to the lions at every opportunity."
"Well, it’s worked for me so far." She frowned pensively, gazing into the flames and continuing to stroke the bumps of scar tissue across her forearms.
Astarion knelt to her level, tilting his head from side to side and lifting his shoulders in a gesture of indifference. "Eh - that’s correct, so far. You’ve managed to keep all your limbs attached, but I would be remiss if I didn’t insist that it’s not . . . sustainable behaviour." He offered her a smile to soften the blow of his criticism, which she returned with a withering stare.
Tav rolled her eyes. "Hmm,” she said, finally looking up at him, “you think you're stronger than me? Is that it?"
"Well, no,” he said, standing again, “but I don’t think it’s a matter of opinion that I leave the battlefield with the same amount of casualties, yet far fewer scars.” He held out his hand. "I have a, er, proposition of sorts."
Tav looked up at him quizzically as the wind blew the fire smoke sideways. "What kind of proposition?"
"Well," he began, "I suggest we find a spot in the woods and play a game. No weapons, no tools. Hand-to-hand combat, just you and I. If I win, you’ll let me teach you how to complete a battle without becoming horribly mangled each and every time. If you win, I’ll leave it, and you can keep on fighting like a rabid animal with no further complaint on my end." His eyes held a devious twinkle despite his nonchalant tone. "So, what do you say?"
Astarion knew he had succeeded in appealing to her competitive nature when she grinned like a child challenged to a footrace. "Well that’s not fair - you challenge me on a day like today, when I sit here craving bloodshed? How could I say no? Let's do it!"
He smiled with satisfaction. Insatiable, he thought.
As she stood, he was already pinpointing her weakness. Today, she would learn the downside of fighting mindlessly. She would learn, one way or another, to keep her head on a swivel - so he wouldn’t have to fret every time she left his sight.
He held out his hand. "We're going to have so much fun, darling," he said, smiling his scoundrel’s smile.
This was going to be easy.
__________
The last light from the sun disappeared from the horizon as they waltzed to a clearing in the woods.
When they arrived at a suitable glade, Astarion placed his hands on either side of Tav's shoulders and carefully repositioned her. "You stand here." He said.
She obliged and nodded her head, unable to bite back her giddiness
He fought the urge to praise her for being such an obedient pup, at the risk of incurring her contrarian nature. But he loved how much trust she put in him - a foreign and welcome feeling. It was a strange swell of pride in his diaphragm that had only grown since she first let him drink her lifeblood; a feeling that he had begun to grow attached to. Every stirring and sound from her caused a mirrored reaction in his chest - self-preservation on his part, surely, and nothing else; his body, simply securing the safety of its self-replenishing food source.
Astarion stalked 10 feet away from Tav before wheeling around to face her. Tav was already crouched, tense and savage.
He groaned internally. How helpless she is, he thought. She’s already given it all away, every move announced before we’ve even started.
But this wasn't a lesson yet - it was still a game. He would give her one practice round, before driving his lesson home.
"Alright, listen up." He cleared his throat. "Ground rules: No weapons, as you already know. And we fight til one of us is prone - no killing one another, if you please; I would hate to waste more coin on that stingy skeleton's magic." With a coy glance, he added, "Oh - and I'm not going to go easy, dear. I’d expect the same from you." He smirked and stood in an upright position, examining his nails.
He could see without even glancing up that she was practically frothing at the mouth. She looked like a fragile doe, practicing its most menacing and barbaric battle stance. Astarion’s undead heart fluttered. If it were not so pathetic, it might be hopelessly endearing. He wondered if the others ever noticed that duality of natures in Tav - secretly, he hoped they hadn’t. Some dark corner of his heart whispered that her nature ought only to be his to see. The others could cringe and wince at her animality as they liked; and only he would see the beauty that lay under the butchery.
She nodded her head and readied herself further, teetering from left to right.
"Ready?" Astarion asked.
Tav simply nodded again as she swayed back and forth, holding his gaze..
"Set."
Her pupils widened, and her heels dug into the ground, which delighted Astarion to no end, though he dared not show it.
"Go."
Tav charged Astarion, kicking up dirt and sticks in her wake. Astarion readied himself and bent his knees. He could see plain as day not only that she was preparing to tackle him, but the angle she aimed for; the direction of her gaze and lack of any grace or guise gave away every move, long before she made it.
All he had to do was step aside.
She looked behind her, rage in her eyes fueled further by adrenaline, but Astarion was nowhere to be seen. She stood there in her battle stance, with breath heaving, head whipping around in a panic.
Not but 5 seconds later, Astarion had kicked the backs of Tav's knees with his shin and grabbed her ponytail. He ripped her to the ground by her hair with his left hand, and her knees folded beneath her completely. He gained further purchase, clasping his fingers at the nape of her hairline and scraping his nails against her scalp. He sat astride her thighs, locking her under his weight.
Quick and precise, he snaked his right hand up to grasp her neck with crushing pressure before letting go of her scalp. His fingers could nearly wrap completely around the meagre girth of her swan-like neck. But he had promised not to hold back - so he pulled her head about a foot off of the ground by her throat.
This all happened so fast that Tav had not even caught a breath before she registered she was caught in his chokehold. She startled, attempting to plant a right hook on the square of his jaw but he dodged and then lunged his head forward to bite deeply into her wrist with his whole maw. He didn't try to drain her, but the gesture let her know that he could have; the taste of her in his mouth, warm and heady, was only an additional perk.
Tav yanked at her arm, which affected nothing but the width of the wounds as her skin tore further under his fangs.. Tav groaned at the pain and Astarion smiled into the bite, the red of her blood dripping down his face marking victory. Tav used her left hand to try and pry herself away from Astarion's strangling grasp but she was significantly weaker from the lack of oxygen supply to her brain.
She continued to wince and squirm to no avail under his blood-red sneer, but it seemed to only egg him on further. His pupils blew wide, and he finally resembled the predator he was. His jaw tightened on her wrist while his hand mercilessly squeezed her throat, a boa constrictor toying with its prey
Her ferocity only spurred the flame within him. Only when her face began to go purple did he bring his unoccupied wrist to her mouth, a mocking offering of a chew toy.
If she would not tap out to end their game, he would win when she would inevitably faint away. But she bit anyway - a final fuck-you salute before she drifted into unconsciousness, of blunt teeth pressing pathetically with a slackening jaw.
Astarion laughed at her with a mouth full of flesh as he moved his wrist back and forth, watching her fight her losing battle to the last breath. His eyebrows canted upwards. Adorable, he thought. As if she still stands a chance.
He leaned forward and lifted her head further until they were only inches apart, but Tav continued to look back at him with unfaltering determination. Tav’s bleeding wrist nestled in his mouth, dripping beads of crimson onto her paling cheeks. Astarion screwed up his face, letting loose a deep, guttural growl, scarlet fluid bubbling and spattering from his lips to her face. Her lashes fluttered as she drifted away. The last sound she made before the world went black was a soft whimper, her feeble attempt to mimic his growl.
Astarion let go of her throat and her wrist gently then, softly lowering her to the ground. He removed the heel of his palm from her moist lips, a string of saliva connecting them.
He knew he had to act fast - he guessed he had ten seconds or less before she would regain consciousness, with perhaps another ten before she logged what was going on.
He tore her shirt into a long strip with his teeth, leaving her upper body in nothing but her small clothes, discarding the spare scraps of her shirt beneath her. He dismounted, moving to tie her wrists together above her head, quickly and tightly. Tav convulsed back to consciousness as the blood made its way back to her brain. He then tied the rest of the fabric around the base of a tree that was a foot behind her, fastening her to it.
Tav’s eyes opened slowly as she lay in the dirt, unmoving and silent. Astarion knelt beside her head and swiped her bleeding arm with his finger before inserting it into his mouth. He removed his digit with a pop before placing a gentle hand on her bloody cheek. He slowly caressed her with the backs of his fingers.
He had lately begun to experience a creeping paranoia that she was on to him - he had been spending more time around her. Was she aware of his burgeoning adoration? How he wanted the best for her, and how he hoped that would be him? The feeling gnawed at his cold heart. A lovesick puppy, he chided himself internally, all because she had shared her blood with me.
But no - it was more than that. For once in his life, someone listened to him; made him feel like he mattered. While the other companions were resistant to Astarion’s suggestions, Tav was attentive, thoughtful even.. Even when she didn’t agree, she never hesitated to take his opinion into careful consideration; To make him feel that his thoughts held weight.
Her skin, now spattered black and red with drying blood, felt so soft as he brushed his fingers on her supple cheek with painstaking tenderness. He let the adoration he felt pour through his gaze as her eyes began to flit open.
“Hi, darling.” He smiled.
Her eyes locked with his adulatory stare. “H- hi.”
“It looks like you’ll be taking tact lessons with yours truly. Are you ready for your first lesson?”
Her cheeks began to flush and her skin suddenly felt hotter. He had hoped that his affection would disarm her; and judging by the flush on her cheekbones, he had been right.
Tav scrunched her eyes and wriggled her arms. She realized that her hands were bound.
She spoke softly. “I’m not upset, but why the bindings?”
“Just a precautionary measure,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I wasn’t sure if you would accept defeat or not, charmingly stubborn as you are.”
Astarion removed his hand from Tav’s face, and he looked her up and down. He noticed that her legs were pressed together and her toes were wiggling.
Tav let out an enormous sigh and looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. Her knees came off the ground and her soles pressed to the earth. Her legs swayed anxiously and an endearing smile crept across her lips.
Astarion could sense that Tav had gotten excited. It wasn’t odd to him that the elation of battle sparked a desire within her - he had seen it happen before; often times, particularly after an exceptionally gruesome battle, leaving Tav dripping from head to toe in gore, he had found it difficult to resist propositioning her right then and there. He held back out of respect, but he could see now that she wanted him as he had wanted her, unmistakeably.
“Now what?” Tav asked, her restless limbs tugging and wrestling her bindings futilely.
Astarion traced a line down the side of her ribcage down to her hip, watching her face all the while as her breathing hitched and a small shudder ran through her.
“What would you like, dear? You suddenly seem so needy . . .” he teased.
“Astarion I - you were amazing,” she started, “If we can duel more often, I think - I think I would like that. There are other games we can play to pass the time, too. Like hide-and-seek or, uhm . . . other things?” She bit her lip and her hips gave an adorable wiggle.
So, a hands-on learner who likes to have my hands on her, he thinks to himself. Got it.
“Other things?” he breathed, leaning in closer to her face. He placed an arm on either side of her head and bent his elbows, lowering his lips to brush against her ear. “What did you have in mind?” he whispered in a low voice.
She choked out a sigh. Astarion placed a chaste kiss on her cheek beside her ear. He came to rest on his elbows as he stroked her fringe back with his left hand, caressing her head repeatedly.
Tav gulped before saying, “You could keep touching me if you want. You could touch me all over.”
“Is that what you want, my love?” Astarion removed the hand from her hair and snuck it to her breast under her small clothes. He teased her nipple with his thumb before pinching it sensually. He grasped her mound firmly.
Tav squeaked, and the pace of her breath quickened, adding to the appeal of her flushed cheeks and parted lips.
“Yea,” she moaned with abandon, “please. Touch me, bite me. I need you. I want you - ah -” she groaned as he continued to tease her, her beet-red face twisting in desperation, “inside me - please!”
Astarion growled in her ear. Tav's words went straight to his groin, which was now uncomfortably straining against his pants. Tav looked mortified on top of needy. It must've taken more courage for her to admit what she wanted than it took for her to fight a hoard of goblins solo.
Astarion kissed up Tav's cheek until he found her lips. He kissed her softly before seeking entrance to her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and opened her mouth for him, and he brought her into a fervent kiss.
Their lips remained locked passionately as Astarion snaked his left hand from her breast to her back. His arm hooked around her and he squeezed her tight against his chest. He broke the kiss and Tav whimpered softly. His lips trailed down to her neck, where two puncture marks were healing over from a week ago. He kissed and sucked her flesh in and around the spot where he had bitten before, causing beautiful red welts to decorate her throat.
Astarion used his knee to pry Tav's legs open where he would rest his own pelvis against hers, pressing his hardened length against her core. His right arm came around her back to hold the back of her head tenderly. His lips searched for hers again and he pressed his entire face and body into her, hugging her tightly against him as her legs wrapped around his torso.
Their kiss was bruising, and Astarion groaned noisily into Tav's mouth. He took her lip into his teeth and pierced the flesh shallowly. Tav moaned longingly before Astarion began to suck on her bottom lip with indignation. He brushed his fingers through the hair on the back of her head and grasped it as he had before.
His hips came forward to press firmly against Tav's heat, and a whimper escaped her throat.
Astarion repeatedly rutted into her, her wetness soaking through both her pants and his. She whined indigently at the loss of contact when he pulled away, letting go of her hair and lifting himself from her.
He sat back on his heels and placed a hand on either of her knees before rubbing both hands down her thighs, and up to her waist. She squirmed, and he grabbed her waistband. Her feet pressed into the dirt as she lifted her pelvis cooperatively from the ground to help ease the bottoms off. He took her pants and her underwear off in one motion, exposing her soaking folds to the cool night air.
He pried her trembling knees apart and lowered his face to her cunt. He licked a thick stripe through her folds, hooking his arms under her thighs. Astarion gripped her flesh and pulled himself into her, sucking vehemently on her clit. Tav writhed and cried in his grasp, but he locked her in place as he played with her nub mercilessly. Astarion's wet mouth growled into her cunt as it began to spasm and clench emptily.
Astarion sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Tav was flushed and panting, her tits heaving with every breath. Astarion stood up to fully remove his top, and then his pants. His cock sprang free, pre-cum already soaking the tip. He stared down at Tav admiringly and watched her squirm about, pressing her legs together helplessly. She continued to struggle with her fastenings, her wrists beginning to turn as red as her cheeks as she looked up at him with glossy, pleading eyes.
The unfettered heat of her gaze made his chest tighten. It wasn't until then that he had begun to admit that his besetting and ceaseless thoughts towards Tav truly bordered on obsession.
The space he granted her was out of propriety alone, but within him lay a deep and unyielding desire to be with her wholly, body and soul; he wanted to consume her, and to let her consume him. He wanted to welcome her thorns with open arms and bleed out into her. He wanted to bite her until he covered her body so thoroughly in cuts that her blood rendered her supple skin unviewable, behind a shimmering scarlet mask of sacred ambrosia.
He knelt and climbed atop her. His hard cock came to rest between her hot, wet folds as her legs opened and wrapped around him once again. She was squirming eagerly beneath him, arching her back and using the strength of her legs to pull him closer.
He growled at her grinning wickedly, and grabbed her face to roughly pry her mouth open. She relaxed under him and closed her eyes. His tongue invaded her mouth, licking her lips and searching for her tongue. He let go of her face and rested his left elbow beside her head. He used his right hand to fist her hair and planted a violent kiss on her already kiss-swollen lips. Her eyes watered with pleasure as her lashes flickered shut.
She breathed tiny quiet groans into his wanting mouth as he took complete control of her lips. He tugged her head back and to the side, her hair tie falling out, and then aligned himself with her drenched core with his free hand. His teeth grazed her pulse point teasingly. He sunk both his fangs and his cock fully into her at the same time, entirely inside of her as he latched onto her throat.
She cried in pleasure as he devoured her. Her blood coated his tongue and throat while he took generous gulps, his cock twitching and growing inside her with every gulp. Tav could no longer fight back her instinct to writhe, fully expecting to receive Astarion's wrath for not keeping still - but it never came. He simply gripped her hip with his other hand and then pulled almost fully out of her before snapping his hips into her, hard.
Tav let out a needy whine and Astarion groaned in a beastly tenor into her throat. He tore his head away from her, face messy with her blood. Astarion clutched her knees and watched her as he thrust into her at a punishing pace. He slithered his left hand down to her waist and his right hand reached up to apply pressure to her fresh puncture wounds with his fingers. He wrapped his hand around her throat gently as her bleeding slowed, while he rutted into her continuously. Tav’s pussy clenched around him.
He pulled his blood-soaked hand off of her throat and stuck a bloody finger into her mouth. She obliged and sucked on his digit obediently. His cock twitched, and he pulled his finger out of her with a pop. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and then leaned down into her to kiss her hungrily.
Astarion tasted her blood in her mouth, and the feeling that it gave him engulfed him. He ran his hand down her body with his nails, gently scraping her skin in his wake. He reached for her clit and started rubbing it mercilessly with his fingers. She was sopping wet, and the sound of their bodies echoed through the woods.
Tav's cunt clenched, seeming to pull Astarion into her further. She groaned needily into his violent mouth before their lips came apart. Tav's face, still an abstract painting of the spattering of her own life fluid, bunched itself in pleasure as she bore into his eyes. Shamelessly, he licked a stripe on her face, lapping the combined saliva and blood.
"Hmm,” Tav hummed delightedly, a smile spreading across her face. “You're - so good - to me, Astarion," she barely managed through her shallow panting breaths. He gazed at her devotedly. His undead heart skipped a beat at her words, and he felt a fluttering feeling in his stomach; but it was coloured with an undertone of conflict. In an existence defined for centuries by the imperative for safety and solitude, the yearning and aching feelings he had for Tav were unlike anything he had ever felt; They could neither be rationalized nor ignored - they ate at him naggingly and incessantly. Something about their coupling felt alien, as if it was something not of this world. He felt an overwhelming need to merge with her, to pass through her body as if they were one and the same.
He couldn't speak, he couldn't find the words - all he could do was growl from his stomach and slam into her faster and faster, smashing his body into hers. His thoughts and feelings overcame him, and his instincts took over. He continued rubbing her clit clumsily, and her cunt fluttered around his large member, milking him and crying in pleasure.
He lost himself in her. She was everything. Astarion unhooked his arm from her leg and removed his hand from her swollen bud. He wrapped both arms fully around her torso and slammed into her aggressively. He held her crushingly once again and nudged her chin up and to the side with his head. Astarion sunk his teeth into the untouched side of her neck, drinking greedily once more. Wet slapping sounds and feral groans filled the air.
Her blood flowed into him as if it were crimson ivy, channelling pathways through the ruined stone of a long-forgotten temple, latching onto every crevasse and crumbling the structure in its wake.
Astarion stiffly snapped his hips into her one last time, reaching into her deeper than ever before as he came. He unlatched his teeth and then licked Tav's throat. A small whimper escaped her. Astarion moved inside of her, pressing his cum into her hole with his cock and then slowly pulling out. He unlatched a hand from her torso to grab his member and place it between her folds to rub on her clit. She twitched and whined at the feeling.
He unhooked his other arm from her torso and simply sandwiched his hand between her ribcage and the ground. When he saw her face, her lips were pale and she wasn't able to hold her head up.
"Shit."
Finally able to think straight, he looked down with horror at the scene - he had gotten so carried away that he’d left her drained almost entirely. Her pulse was slowing, and he surely only had a matter of minutes before it stopped completely.
In a frenzy, he ripped her bindings free with his teeth, leaving them to dangle like a bracelet off her wrist. He pulled his own shirt over her head, putting on his pants in such a hurry that he neglected to put his shoes back on at all.
He scooped Tav up bridal style, rushing back to camp, directly to Shadowheart’s tent, lest he spend the few extra moments rummaging for a scroll only to look down and find her dead on arrival. The situation was dire.
"Pst!,” he rushed, standing outside the cleric’s tent. “Shadowheart, it's Astarion - I need your help, it's - it’s an emergency!" His voice trembled as he spoke.
Shadowheart groaned as she opened her tent flap. Astarion crawled into her tent with Tav in his arms while Shadowheart yawned and rubbed her eyes. She sat cross-legged across from Astarion. It took a moment for her eyes to focus, and to realize what lay in front of her.
Astarion sat on his heels, mouth still messily covered in blood - Shirtless, covered in dirt, sweat, and utterly damning evidence.
Tav lay completely limp in his arms, face and neck equally bloodied. Her throat was adorned with multitudinous hickies, and her lips were pale. Tav wore a piece of fabric around her wrist that dangled downwards about 6 inches, and her other wrist had a friction burn all around it as well as a bite covered with crusty blood. And, most ruinously, she wore nothing aside from the apologetic afterthought of Astarion’s shirt to hide her modesty.
It hadn't occurred to Astarion how bad this looked on him until now. Still, it was more important that Tav get the help she needed.
"Gods! What have you done to her, Astarion!?" Shadowheart raised her voice.
"Shh, we don't need everyone in camp bringing pitchforks to your tent right now - just please help Tav. I can explain," he said sincerely. His brows pinched up in a frown as he hung his head, mortified.
"Alright, but you’d better have a good excuse,” Shadowheart scolded. “I swear - if she wakes and tells me that your abuse was unwelcome, I will not hesitate to incinerate you."
"Ignis" a small flame appeared on her finger and she lit 2 candles in her tent.
She channelled bright blue energy into her body. The tent glowed cobalt and a sound similar to wind chimes filled the air. Shadowheart closed her eyes and raised one hand to face herself before chanting her incantation.
"Te absolvo."
The blue light encased Tav and her body twitched. The light faded and the colour slowly started coming back to her face.
Astarion let out a sigh of relief and he pulled Tav tightly into his arms, giving her a desperate hug. He rocked her back and forth in his arms and closed his eyes when he placed his chin over her shoulder and snuggled it into her.
Tav came to slowly and began to hug him back, squeezing him weakly and nudging her head towards his.
"Ahem," Shadowheart cleared her throat, "I hate to break up your reunion after Astarion nearly murdered you, but I do feel as if I am owed an explanation."
Astarion placed a firm kiss on Tav's head and he lowered her down. He held her under her armpits like a doll while he moved his legs to sit cross-legged, using his free arm to maintain balance. He then sat Tav upon his lap, facing Shadowheart.
Tav yawned, rubbed her eyes, and lolled her head back to his shoulder with closed eyes.
Astarion had hooked his arm around her waist to hold her steady. He hesitantly began to explain.
"Well, we decided to duel - for innocent fun - and got a bit carried away. Are you satisfied?"
"It seems as though you were the one that got carried away, Astarion. I don't see any bindings around your wrists. And where are her . . . garments? Actually, never mind; I don’t think I want to know." Shadowheart frowned deeply. "But Tav is riddled with bites, blood, and hickies. Gods, Astarion! If it wasn’t for her looking so comfortable with you, I would have killed you already."
"You could try, but I'll have you know I don't die easily these days," he said, screwing his face up defensively.
Tav winced. "Stop fighting, please." She clenched her right fist, grimacing as the wound left by the bite mark twinged. She looked up at Shadowheart. "Astarion and I made love. He tied me up because he thought I was going to be a sore loser after he won our fight, and then we made love on the forest floor."
The tent was blanketed in an awkward silence.
"Oh, don't tell me you've never been tied up and fucked before, Shadowheart. I know how Sharrans are."
Shadowheart's mouth fell agape and she paused. Her brows knitted together in a downwards cant.
"Just go."
Tav and Astarion shared a glance. They nodded at one another and then got up to exit Shadowheart's tent. Astarion offered Tav a hand and she obliged. She stumbled out of the tent like a newborn doe.
Tav offered him her wrist with the tie on it. “Help, please.” She smiled.
“Oh - yes.” He took her wrist gently and then expertly untied the knot before dropping the fabric on the ground.
‘Made love.’ Astarion reflected on Tav’s words. An electric feeling spread across his body and Tav’s blood rushed to his face. He suddenly found himself unable to breathe, not that he needed to anyway. He stood eerily still while zoning out into the embers of the snuffed fire pit. The full moon’s light wrapped around them like a veil.
“Astarion.” Tav grabbed his hand gently and stood between him and the embers. “Shall we go bathe in the river?” She smiled, searching for his eyes.
He paused and his mouth fell agape, and his brows angled downwards. He gazed back up at her before painting a disingenuous smile on his lips.
“Yes, of course.” He squeezed her hand.
“Come on.” Tav cheered as she led him towards the river.
‘Made love.’ The word replayed in his head over and over. ‘Is that,- is this what love is?’ The thoughts overwhelmed him. ‘Does she love me? Do I love her?’
He walked behind Tav with his head to the ground all the way to the riverside. When they had finally reached the water, he looked up to see the dark silhouette of Tav in front of the slow-moving water where the moonlight danced.
Tav lifted his shirt off of herself and plopped it on the large rock beside her, facing the water while taking a deep breath of the cool night air, her shoulders rising and falling. She stepped forward to dip her toes in the water, and then she slowly walked until she was waist-deep before looking back to Astarion who was standing there, watching her.
Astarion briefly witnessed Tav’s back, which was adorned with some sort of abstract pattern, not much unlike Astarion’s. He couldn’t quite make out if it was a tattoo pertaining to her heritage, or perhaps a birthmark. Tav’s hair dropped onto her back, covering most of it.
Astarions stomach tied a knot, and his heart felt as if it were about to burst out of his chest. His eyes were round and his lips were slightly parted. He felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights.
“The water is surprisingly warm compared to usual. Maybe it’s just because I’m so cold,” she giggled. She made a few more steps into the water and then submerged her wrists, causing her to wince in pain once more.
Astarion blinked himself back into the present when he heard her inhaling sharply through her teeth. He rushed his bottoms off and then hastily strode to catch up to her in the water, trailing white bubbles behind him.
“We should get you some healing potions after we’re done here.” He came up to rest a hand on her shoulder.
“No, I’m fine. I don’t want it,” she retorted.
This again. Tav’s ludicrous notion that pain would bring her peace, and somehow rest her mind. But Astarion knew pain; and he knew that wasn’t right.
“Tav,” he murmured, tilting his head to her and placing a tender hand on her cheek. “Please - let me help you.”
Tav simply frowned and looked away. She turned and plunged into the river, leaving Astarion with his hand in the air.
She disappeared under the water, but Astarion could hear her heart beating. He grinned and then sunk into the water slowly. He swam towards the sound of her thumping pulse, holding his unnecessary breath. He opened his eyes underwater and Tav swam to where her toes could barely touch the rocks at the bottom before she came up for a gasp of air.
She scrubbed the blood off of her face with her hands and then ran her fingers through her soaking hair.
Astarion sunk as low as possible in the water with empty lungs, swimming towards Tav. In one quick motion, he gained purchase on her ankle and pulled her below the surface.
He pulled her body under him with his tricep and grasped at her waist, forcing her lower. The water bubbled violently around her, obscuring her vision.
Astarion positioned them so they were upright underwater and facing one another. It was then that he pulled her in for a closed-mouth smooch, to which she reciprocated.
He swam them up to the surface and Tav gasped for air. They both grinned widely, and Tav’s brows raised.
“You little shit!” She splashed him in the face and he scrunched his features in response.
“It’s not my fault you’re such easy prey,” Astarion smirked, tilting his head down at her.
“You’re too fun. It’s becoming surprisingly harder for me to keep my guard up around you,” she stated.
Astarion blinked at her for a moment. Is that what this feeling is?
Her eyes closed and her face softened as she leaned in for a kiss. Their lips locked and they kissed slowly; strikingly different from their coupling in the forest, this was nice - comforting and peaceful.
Tav brought her legs up to straddle Astarion under the water. He held her with one hand on her bum and the other on the small of her back. Their embrace was languid and passionate.
When the kiss broke, their foreheads leaned on one another’s. Astarion closed his eyes. Within him was a burning chapel, crumbling to ash and set ablaze by the very person in his arms. He couldn’t speak even if he tried.
Tav placed her hand on his cheek, snaking it below his ear and rubbing her thumb on his cheekbone affectionately. They breathed in each other as they held one another in blissful silence.
Astarion felt his eyes begin to water, unbidden. He could feel Tav’s eyes on him, so he quickly dipped his head to her shoulder.
There was nothing about this that felt wrong - everything about this felt right, but within that there was discomfort. Astarion wanted to drown himself in his tears. Perhaps, he thought, this is what Tav feels when she seeks peace in her own pain.
Astarion couldn’t help but choke out a sob into Tav’s shoulder. She replied by squeezing him so tight that it pushed the air out of his lungs. She didn’t demand an explanation; she didn’t reject him; she simply held him, and held space for him.
The space between them was inconceivable. They couldn’t feel where one of them began and the other ended. Their bodies alloyed together like copper and iron.
Astarion wept into Tav, and Tav enveloped Astarion.
“Shh, you’re okay. I’m here.” Tav cooed, caressing the back of Astarion’s head. “I’m here.”
Astarion sighed and pulled his head back from Tav. He looked at her with a deep frown. She brought her thumb up and wiped his tears away.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, “you’re always safe to be like this around me. I hope you know that.”
Astarion paused, looking up at Tav with round eyes.
Tav started, “I - I’m not the best at this. I’m sorry. Just anytime you want to talk, or if you just want someone to be with you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”
Astarion felt the cool, shallow waves wash over him. “I want to be the same for you.” He looked down, his brows canted upwards desperately. “I - I don’t know what this means, and I don’t understand what I’m feeling, but I do know that I want you by my side,” he said as his gaze shifted upwards to meet hers.
Tav smiled. “I want to be by your side as well.”
The water trickled through the canal and chimed on the shoreline. The light of the moon glistened on the water peaks. And there was Tav. Someone to rely on, perhaps even someone to trust.
“We should wash up, there’s still a bit of blood on your face.” Tav scrunched her brows and brought a wet hand to swipe the last bits of blood off of Astarion’s lips.
Astarion nodded in agreement and he splashed water onto the sides of Tav’s neck. Her flesh had been ravished, she adorned a necklace of purple and red bruises.
“You must drink a healing potion,” Astarion spoke softly.
“Astarion, I’ll be okay. I’ll explain to the others like I explained to Shadowheart, and everything will be fine.”
Astarion laughed in her face. “Firstly, I doubt they will take it as well as Shadowheart did, and that’s saying something. Secondly, it’s not about the other’s, darling, it’s about you. You must heal.”
“I’m sure I’ll feel better by tomorrow,” she said, downturning her lips.
“Is that what you want? To feel better?” Astarion spoke gently. “A health potion would make you feel better. You’re not fooling me, dear.”
“Well I just don’t want to waste supplies - and I can handle pain better than everyone in camp, I’m sure.” She gleamed, glazing herself up.
His face screwed up, “You are not a waste!” he growled at her. “I will not be speaking on this any further. Come, let’s go.”
She huffed in defeat as he carried her in his arms back to shore.
Her feet planted on the ground and she squeezed the water out of her hair. Astarion did the same by brushing his hair back with his fingers and shaking the water droplets off of his hand. He grabbed his pants and Tav threw his shirt over her head.
They held hands as they made their way back to Tav’s tent so that she could first grab her blankets and pillows before heading to Astarion’s tent for the night.
Tav led the way to Astarion’s tent. When they arrived, Astarion started organizing their things.
“Ignis.” he chanted, lighting a couple of candles with a small flame on his finger.
They worked together to carefully lay the blankets out, and Astarion searched his pack for a spare set of night clothes and a towel or two for him and Tav to share. He felt around his pack, hearing the clinking of bottles. Astarion pulled bottles out of his bag, examining each one before putting them back, until he found a red bottle with a cork enclosure. He set it aside and pulled his night clothes and towels from his bag.
Astarion handed a towel to Tav and she patted her hair dry with it. Astarion followed and ran his towel down his legs and over his shoulders before changing into his camp clothes. He then continued tidying up his pack as he sat on his heels.
“Your scars,” Tav started, “Do they mean something?”
Astarion turned his head from his pack to face Tav and he cringed.
“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.” Tav hung her head in shame.
Astarion took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s alright, your concern for me is adorable. In due time, my sweet. Tonight, I am more concerned about you.”
Astarion fisted a health potion and turned around completely to face Tav.
“You must drink this,” he ordered, shifting towards her and handing her the bottle.
Tav shimmied uncomfortably and sat with straight legs atop their blankets. “I told you already that I don’t need it.” Her face scrunched in annoyance.
“Fine,” he said. “If you want to make things difficult, then so be it.”
Tav watched with intrigue as Astarion uncorked the bottle and then poured half of it into his mouth. He set the bottle down and crawled over to her. The heels of her hands moved from her lap to press into the ground behind her as Astarion proceeded to mount her. Tav’s face and ears turned a deep shade of crimson and she stared up at Astarion as his face hovered above hers.
Astarion wrapped his arm around her torso, locking her arms to her ribcage. With his free hand, he grabbed Tav’s cheeks and pressed on her mandible with his fingers and thumb to pry her maw open. Tav’s eyes were wide as she watched him come closer.
Tav’s lip came apart and Astarion connected his mouth with her’s. The warm healing liquid poured from his mouth into hers. Tav closed her eyes and accepted her fate as she started swallowing the sweet liquid. Astarion could hear her heart racing - Gods, she was perfect.
He loosened his grip and started rubbing large, soothing circles on her back. Her lips were so warm and wet, that Astarion found it challenging to let go, but he did. Their noses folded against one another and their foreheads pressed together. Astarion tilted her head with a knuckle and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.
Astarion pulled away. “Good girl. Now will you finish the bottle or am I going to have to be creative again?” He smirked.
Tav squirmed under him and her nipples hardened visibly through the shirt that she was wearing.
Astarion reached back to grasp the bottle. “Open,” he commanded.
Tav’s eyelids were heavy with lust. She obeyed. She tilted her head back, and softly stuck out her tongue.
“That’s it,” he praised.
He started to slowly pour the liquid into her mouth. “Good girl. I’m so proud of you.”
Tav suddenly closed her mouth and swallowed. Astarion accidentally spilled some potion on her face and chest. His pants began to tighten.
Her eyes were wet and her chest was heaving. Her wounds looked almost entirely healed, other than some red dry skin where the puncture marks used to be.
Astarion mindlessly nudged the neckline of her shirt with a finger and it fell off of one shoulder, exposing the curve of her breast. He hastily placed the bottle down and leaned over to lick the spilled potion off of her chest. He grasped her ribcage with his left hand, and the back of her head with his right. He then licked up her neck to her face and mouth, making sure to clean all the leftover potion from her skin.
Tav’s mouth flew open and Astarion pulled her into a smouldering kiss. He lifted himself without breaking the kiss so that he could reposition himself between her legs before having her lie back on the pillow behind her. He reached his right arm down to her exposed heat and he searched through her folds with needy digits. She was remarkably wet.
Tav moaned deeply and bucked her hips forward, searching for more, but Astarion simply teased her folds with his fingers.
He broke the kiss and caressed her damp hair with his left hand. Tav’s lips were kiss-swollen and her skin glistened in the candlelight.
Astarion pulled back from her and grabbed the potion once again. This time, without having to ask, Tav opened her mouth as she did before. He poured the rest of the potion into her mouth and she swallowed eagerly. Astarion placed the empty bottle on the side of the bedrolls.
Tav’s legs were spread wide and her feet dangled in the air. She sat back on her elbows as she stared at Astarion with parted lips and knitted brows.
Astarion rewarded her by plunging two fingers inside her wanting hole. Tav’s mouth opened in a sensual “O,” her wet eyes and wet cunt both fluttering as she began grinding into Astarion’s hand.
Astarion groaned and then pulled his fingers out, leaving Tav empty and whining. He lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the side. Astarion stood up and pulled his pants down. He threw his pants where his shirt had been thrown, and then he kneeled to Tav. His cock was already wet with precum dripping from the tip.
Tav reached down to play with her clit. She was rubbing firm circles on herself and she threw her head back. Astarion felt heat pooling in his lower abdomen at the sight of Tav. He threw his head back as well and then placed the head of his cock at the entrance of her hole. He stroked himself as his tip teased her folds.
Astarion groaned and grabbed the back of Tav’s thigh with his left hand. He stuck the whole of his tip into her and continued pleasuring himself. He looked down to where their bodies connected and his girth grew incredibly hard.
Tav was panting and Astarion was covered in sweat. Tav arched her hips into Astarion and captured his full length inside of her in one quick movement.
Astarion let out a deep sigh and he let go of his shaft. He reached to her clit and nudged her hand away before beginning to stroke her clit persistently.
Tav contorted and whined but Astarion did not stop playing with her. Her cunt clenched around him and her breath sped up to a dangerous pace.
“Astarion - I’m cumming!” She screamed, her body tensing like a longbow.
Tav’s cunt contracted around Astarion and he growled at the feeling, her pussy milking him. Her body went limp on the bedroll and her hole gushed spend down his shaft.
He reached for a pillow and placed it under her bum, The new angle allowing him to reach deeper than before.
Astarion glanced down and spat on Tav’s swollen bud. He pulled out and ran his cock along her saliva-covered clit, causing her to whine desperately before thrusting back inside her fully.
Tav hummed and wiggled her hips. Her body had completely relaxed.
Astarion began to thrust into her at an invariable pace. His grasp on her hips was tight, making indentations in her flesh. Lewd wet sounds echoed through the camp.
He stuffed her so deeply that his tip hugged her cervix with every snap of his hips. He used his grasp on her hips to cinch her onto his length, Tav’s tits bounced under her shirt at each pump. Her face was contorted in pleasure and her breath picked up again.
She lay like a precious doll, letting him fuck her hole to his heart’s content. Their juices seeped out the sides of his penetrating cock. The sight pulled Astarion deeper into his fuck drunken stupor.
Astarion's pace quickened and he fucked Tav hard, slamming into her punishingly.
A raging coil built within him. His hips faltered and then snapped into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. His breath stuttered as pleasure erupted from his chest and reverberated throughout his body. Thick, hot ropes of spend shot into Tav, coating her plush walls. He groaned needily and came forward, hanging his head. His whole body was moist with sweat. He stayed connected with Tav as he leaned into her, hovering over her on his elbows.
Tav’s cheeks were rosy. ‘The picture of health,’ Astarion thought. The pair took a moment to deeply gaze into one another’s eyes, searching, panting. Within Tav’s iris lay the storms of Saturn, violently rippling. Destruction and rebirth in every fleeting moment. On the surface, he saw nothing. There was no reflection gazing back at him, only the hypnotizing depths of her pupils which bloomed like chrysanthemums.
He wished he could see what she saw. He wanted to understand why she wanted him. After Cazador, he felt like an empty shell. Could one love a being so hollow? Love. Astarion didn’t know love. He had read about it in books, and had his victims sob to him drunkenly about husbands or wives. Love sounded painful and finite. Love sounded like a pool of crimson to drown in until your lungs fill as you inevitably succumb to your folly. The way he had seen it described was as if love were in every being, or that the universe itself were made of love.
‘Does Bhaal love his children? Did Cazador love his spawn? Am I loved? Am I capable of love?’
Another wave of overwhelming vibrations surged through his body. These thoughts made his stomach knot and his shoulders stiffen.
He rested his head on the pillow beside Tav as he completely collapsed on her, sighing on his decline. He fully embraced Tav in his arms, and she weakly hugged him back, running her hands gently along his mountainous scars.
The intimacy made him feel so whole, but so pathetic. He wanted to look into Tav’s soul without crumbling, as she did his. In times like these, he didn’t know when she could be ripped from him. It felt as if at any moment, she could decide she didn’t want to be around a snivelling mess like him anymore, and decide to up and leave him in the woods for the Gur to find.
She could choose Gale, or Shadowheart, or anyone else, and he couldn’t stop her. She had him in the palm of her hand and could destroy him, but for now, she chose to cherish him. Him - the hollow and hungry vampire who simultaneously knew only what it meant to give and what it meant to take; a transaction. That’s what he’d been for two hundred years, leaving a paper trail of victims in his wake. Forced to be a monster, and to do the bidding of an even more sinister monster.
There was a light, a single star. One final glimmer of hope. The tadpoles. The thing that granted him the ability to walk in the sun, to defy Cazador, and the thing that led him to Tav in the first place.
Tav, who was slowly drifting to sleep beneath him. Her breathing was restful and her arms held him softly.
Astarion pulled out of Tav and grabbed one of their towels from earlier. They were still damp and had to be hung outside, but he used it to clean Tav’s weeping core. She rested peacefully with open legs as he gently wiped their combined spend from her supple skin. Tav hummed happily.
He took the same towel and wiped himself thoroughly. He stalked outside of his tent and hung the towel on a line beside his other garments. He returned to the tent and Tav had rolled to her side and was looking at him. One of her hands was between her thighs for warmth, and the other was under her pillow. Her eyes were sleepy and wet.
Tav yawned and then patted the spot on the bed beside her, inviting Astarion to join her in respite.
“Let’s get you under the blankets, darling.” He frowned.
Tav sat up near her pillow, and then pulled the covers over herself, air bubbled under the sheets as they settled around her form. Astarion climbed in next to her and used a silver snuffer to snuff the candles out. Tav laid to face the back of his tent, and her back faced him.
Astarion shuffled in beside her, gazing at her back. Recalling what he’d seen down by the river, he noticed a collection of large scars that ran from either shoulder and crisscrossed in the centre. He tenderly ran his fingers down the scars, and Tav didn’t budge. They felt larger and more raised than his. These were no battle scars. Somebody had done this to her.
Red rage filled his mind. Her situation was worse than he thought. Pain was a tool for her, and a tool that was used on her, many times. To make her docile? To punish her? To bring others peace?
He wondered if the reason for the scars was the same reason why Tav felt comfort in her pain. Perhaps it was something used against her so frequently that it left a void when it was taken away. A void like the one within him.
Astarion wanted answers to his questions, he wanted to know who hurt her, and he wanted to make them pay.
But for now, she rests, and Astarion will embrace her until the sun gleams over the horizon.
‘I want to be your peace.’
___________
Notes: Oof, that was a doozy. I did get very carried away with this one. Now I know why other writers say that on here LOL. I know it seems like I've set this up to have more chapters, but I don't think I am ready to create muti-chaptered works yet. Also, I hate goodbyes and endings so I will just edge everyone for now. LOVE YOU! SMOOCHIES!
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“you notice everything” yeah babe I was traumatised as a child
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Fangs and Fractured Hearts
Chapter 15: Reclamation
Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.
Word Count: 6.6k
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn
Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]
Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.
If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know
Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]
A maelstrom of emotions dithers over the union you share. He seems unsure of what exactly he should be feeling as it fluctuates between fear, doubt, and bewilderment in a tumultuous outburst. His thoughts are akin to walking on the dark side of the moon - frigid, wilful in their grip on him with an undecipherable sapidity.
“What do you mean?” He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around as his brows pinch, creasing his forehead. His voice is detached and reticent, a masterpiece of regret and dolour. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, surely. Would I? Hells below. Did I?”
“You must have,” you conclude, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I don’t remember you doing it, but I can’t hear or remember it.”
Astarion jumps to his feet, nearly pitching you off his lap in haste, but he grabs you at the last minute, dragging you up with him. He pulls his trousers up but leaves them loose as he paces fitfully, muttering and mumbling to himself and wracking his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t understand,” he utters, half to himself and half to you. “I just do not understand. Why would I do such a thing? How long ago did I do this? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
It’s not your fault.
“I think it was before I…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes closed at the memory of Astarion stalking you through the Crimson Palace hallways like a predator, caustic venom spitting from his lips, every word eating away at your soul.
“Left me,” Astarion finishes with a note of despair, like a cold hand laid upon your bare soul. “You can say it.”
You nod sullenly, dropping your head, deject and wayward.
His emotions are flickering through your mind and body like a kaleidoscope of lightning strikes, each blinding flash incomprehensible in its intensity. You focus, but Astarion stops dead as you try to catch and hold them, and the connection is severed.
You are once again empty, a barren midnight sky that’s misplaced the stars and moon. Your eyes snap to Astarion, but the scarlet of his eyes looks hollow with madness as he regards you with the wariness of a wounded animal. He looks at you like he doesn’t know who you are, and it sends a wave of alarm coursing through you, causing your palms to heat.
He retrieves his shirt from the floor, always keeping a close eye on you as if you might pounce. He’s unreadable and cold, the iron countenance of the Vampire Ascendant shrouding him like an icebound veil. Without a word, Astarion darts out of your room, descending the stairs at a whirlwind pace that would be perilous for anyone who wasn’t so agile.
“Astarion?” In confusion, you chase after him without much thought, nearly tumbling down the stairs, and grab his arm. “Where are you going?”
He rips his arm out of your clutches with a bestial snarl. “Don’t touch me!”
“Just wait,” you plead with him, casting Misty Step and blocking his trajectory to the door. You can’t make heads or tails of this shift. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”
“You can’t help me.”
Astarion tries to get around you, but you won’t secede any ground and hold your position with foolish defiance. He grabs your arm, pivots, and thrusts you backward, throwing you to the floor. When you look up at him, those crimson eyes are starting to flick and fade like a star in the throes of death.
“Do not try and stop me again,” he growls, taking stalking steps toward you with a choler tinge in his voice. “Bad, pet.”
Astarion laughs, leans down, and grabs your ankle. He squeezes until the bones are wailing and threatening to break under duress. You whimper, beseeching cries for amnesty, trying to crawl away.
“Master, stop! Please.” You barely recognize the word as it jumps off your tongue in your agony. The haunting palette of bruising is immediately stained on the ghostly white canvas of your skin.
His grip is suddenly snapped away, and he springs back, grabbing his head with a pained groan, shaking it from side to side furiously as he roots himself in place. His breath falters as his eyes meet yours with a hysterical acidity as their claret shifts from deep and warm to shoal and dull as if covered by a thick layer of dust.
“Sorry,” he totters unsteadily on his feet, his lips parting with erratic breaths that make his chest jump aperiodically. His heart beats so hard in his chest that the sound is almost ear-splitting. “Hells. I’m so sorry. I— I— must go.”
Astarion does not even close the door in his urgency, and you’re left naked, clutching your ankle on the floor, staring into the street with your mouth agape. You cast Telekinesis to throw the door closed and limp around the manor, closing the heavy drapes to block the sun.
“Fuck!” You scream at the emptiness surrounding you as you pull yourself up the stairs on your lame ankle.
As you bathe, you allow your body to submerge into the spacious tub. You force yourself to forgo the useless impulse to breathe the air you no longer require and sink. The water’s surface contorts above you like an uneven mirror, twisting and warping reality. Everything is falling apart, and you feel like the sand of a beach being dragged away piece by piece with every crash of another wave upon the shore of your life.
Your heart would be beating recklessly in your chest if you hadn’t been alleviated of life. Colourful promises of love and breaths of forever in a realm of temporary fill your eyes with tears that seep into the water. Time stands still, and your doubt settles and masks your bravery. You’re one step closer to losing him entirely, but you must be fearless. Neither you nor Astarion can afford for you to fall.
Closing your eyes, you run headfirst into memories, searching your soul for all the places that feel like home.
The thudding of boots, the drip of rain that sneaks through the fissures in the bricks, the skittering and squeaking of vermin — everything echos off the stone in Moonrise. The fire throws foreboding, eerie shadows in slinking shapes across your tent that make you uneasy. No one wanted to camp here for the night, with the Absolute Cultists only floors below, but it had been a long journey through the Shadowlands, and the hungry shade had sapped everyone’s strength.
You flop restlessly on the furs in your tent, unable to trance. You had been counting the cultists inhabiting this wretched place as you made your rounds, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. The omen of the arduous battle hangs over you, and you’re trying to devise some semblance of a plan to wipe them out in stages. You were never a very strategic planner. Typically, showing up and raining fire, violence, and death have worked for most of your life. Even with the help of the Harpers, one mistake could spell disaster.
Your ears twitch as you hear the rumbling murmurs bounce off the walls, and you’re out of your tent in a blink with fire ablaze in your palm, fearing the cultists have figured out that you don’t fit within their ranks. Taking a lap around, you take a quick headcount, checking your friends off one by one until you hear a soft, breathy whimpering.
Astarion…
Crouching by his tent, you whisper his name, but he does not answer. You recognize a nightmare when you hear one, and your hurt lurches in your chest, fingers hovering just over the door of his tent, but you don’t open it. Your proximity is usually enough to calm him without waking him, and this time seems no different. The trashing has stopped, and his muttering has ceased.
You sigh, relieved, and lay down at the door, curling up on the hard stone. You will rest here tonight if it means you can bring him even a scrap of peaceful rest.
“Darling,” Astarion purrs in a rugged timbre, heavy under the weight of drowsiness. “Whatever are you doing?”
You smile and flop over to peer into the hypnotic, heavily-lidded eyes. Astarion yawns, fangs peeking from his lips, and grins back at you.
“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, making sure to keep your voice down so it doesn’t wake the others. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here tonight.”
“You were going to sleep out here on the stone?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow at you. “Why?”
“It seemed to comfort you,” you shrug.
"I meant, why would you sleep out here when there's a perfectly good bedroll in my tent with me?”
“Oh,” you say, sitting upright with a jolt. “That’s okay, Astarion. Really. I’m perfectly fine out here.”
“Get in here, weirdo," Astarion giggles, grabbing your arm and giving it a gentle tug.
You hesitate, but he tows you harder, and eventually, you relent and crawl into his tent. You sit in the corner, trying to make yourself small, wrapping your arms around your knees.
Astarion huffs exasperatedly, “You do realize that we’ve had sex, yes? You were hardly shy during our little late-night expeditions.”
“I’m not shy, not with you,” you giggle but avidly watch how Astarion’s jaw clenches, fingers tangling into the furs. “You’re hungry. I can see it. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable to be so close to a food source in a confined space.”
“I’ll admit, it’s not easy when you’re so very delicious with that lovely neck, begging to be tasted,” he grins, an artificial smile meant to put you at ease. Astarion notices that he cannot fool you, and his fingers rifle through his hair. “I’m fine. Truly. You’re not in any danger around me. I can control my hunger.”
“Danger? Oh, Gods! No, Astarion.” You shake your head at him, offering your hand, and he takes it. His thumb sways softly over the back, “I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. When’s the last time you fed?”
“Oh, I don’t know, darling. There was that cultist I made a snack of a couple of days ago. You needn’t concern yourself with it. I’ve gone much, much longer without a meal.”
There’s a bleakness shading the sculpted angles of his face that makes your heart palpate with empathy. You don’t have to ask for confirmation. Cazador obviously starved him as some form of punishment. It makes your palms heat in reflex as you seethe. You don’t care what it takes. You are going to kill the motherfucker who dared torture this man that’s stolen your heart.
“Astarion, whenever you’re hungry, I’m happy to offer my neck. All you have to do is ask.”
“That’s very… sweet, but the very shadows of this place are hungry.” Astarion sighs, wrapping his arms around his waist to smother his hunger pains. He smiles, “As much as I would absolutely love to take you here and now, you need your strength. We have many battles ahead.”
“Don’t be dumb," you tut, moving your hair away from your neck. “I need you strong. I am capable of deciding this for myself. I don’t need you to do it for me.”
“Dumb? Darling! You wound me.” He theatrically scoffs, hand to his forehead, falling back as if you slapped him, with a shallow chuckle, “I have received many slights in my life - Insufferable, insolent, insignificant, but this might be the first time I have been accused of being dumb.”
“Well, they say there’s a first time for everything,” you smirk, levity uplifting the lilt of your baritone. “Consider this your first.”
“You are racking up quite the catalogue of firsts,” he chuckles, shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. “Are you sure? I am truly of sound mind. No one is in any danger.”
You crawl toward him, heart rate accelerating with every forward movement of your hands and knees, “Will you please shut up and bite me already? Before I berate you for believing I think you’re a danger.”
Astarion’s hand wraps around your arm, persuading you closer with pressure, but he does not so much as glance at your exposed neck. He’s fixed on your eyes as if he’s found heaven hidden within them.
“Then allow us to dine together,” he nods slowly, eyes still moored to yours as he sits upright, prompts you to turn, and holds your back steady against his chest. He kisses under your earlobe and hints his lips down the column of your neck until he settles on that rhythmically pumping vein. He kisses it, long and lingering, and groans, “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” you sigh, barely able to contain your body’s excitement as it trembles in his arms.
His fangs puncture your skin like icicles, impaling the soft flesh, but it ebbs and dulls to a paradisical strumming before your mind has time to react and withdraw. For a vampire that has not fed on thinking creatures much, he’s remarkably gentle and has only become more tender since you started these little meals. He draws from you in unhurried pulls, tallied and modulated as he listens, and his palm splays across your chest over your heart to determine its pace in case he does not hear it accurately.
You feel your ethos skimming through his veins, warming his skin, flushing the tips of his ears, an antidote to his pain. You sigh mellowly, and your fingers untwist from his trousers, going lax. His arousal hardens against your back as he removes his fangs from your neck, tongue lavishing at the residual weeping wounds with broad, flat strokes and moaning a chilled breath over the shell of your ear.
Astarion turns your head toward him, catching your lips in a blistering kiss tinged with the coppery piquancy of your blood. His hips buck into you with a growl, and his hand veers toward your aching clit. You stop him short, grabbing his hand with a shudder.
“What are you doing?” You breathe against the needy, silken embrace of his mouth.
“You’ve been ever so generous,” he purrs. “Allow me to repay your charity in a language I speak proficiently.”
“No,” you break away from the kiss and his arms. Your head swims, bloodless and faint. Your heart hammers, trying to pump the blood no longer within your veins. You sway on your knees, and Astarion supports you with a hand on your shoulder lest you faceplant, “This isn’t a tit-for-tat offer, Astarion. There is no repayment. I am just one friend assisting another. That’s all.”
“I— You don’t want me?”
His genuine confusion encases your heart in a boiling bubble of sorrow, “You know I do, but not like this. I don’t want you if it’s compensation for my blood.”
“I’m sorry. It’s the only thing I know,” he looks bashful. If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s blushing, but that must be the rush of your blood through his veins. “Would you at least rest with me tonight while you're woozy? I will hear if anything untoward happens in camp, and I can protect both of us if need be.” He puts his hands up innocently, “I will keep my hands to myself. You have my word.”
“Do you think--" you trail off, bringing your hand to your forehead that seems to beat in time with your angry heart and groan. “That is to say— Could we —“
“Good Gods, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Spit it out already before you lose consciousness. I did not take that much.”
Your arms drop by your sides, and you giggle with him, suddenly lethargic, “Never mind. I’ll sleep over here.”
“Now, who is being positively dumb,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue at you. “If you want to cuddle, you have but to ask. You know I do rather like cuddling with you.”
“If you know what I want,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Why are you making a spectacle out of me?!”
“Entertainment,” he shrugs, laughing carefree and alight with humour.
“You’re terrible,” you mutter.
“I know,” he smirks, lying back and extending his arms, twitching his fingers in the come-hither motion. “Come on, love. Let’s have a cuddle, shall we?”
The bath water has turned cold by the time your eyes slide back open. You’re still lying at the bottom of the tub, in a watery grave like a sunken ship. How long have you been in here? Once your brain recognizes that you haven’t taken a breath in what could be hours, instinct takes over, and you propel yourself upright, coughing, sputtering, and gulping down the air furiously.
You scoff at yourself with antipathy. How long will it take for these responses to abate? When will your body just accept that you’re fucking dead?
Wrapping a plush towel around yourself, you listen for the comforting thud of Astarion’s heart but are only met with tomblike silence. It frightens you, making your stomach feel aflutter in your abdomen, reminding you of the Gur attack when you thought you lost him.
You slip into a long-sleeved, purple dress and tentatively peek outside. The velveteen embrace of twilight has cloaked the sky, but the cloud cover is thick, eclipsing the moonlight. You can smell the rain before the heavens have decided to cry. Reaching out to the bond, Astarion does not answer your call.
Fuck this.
You trot through the street, smelling the air. You wince with every step as the injury to your ankle smarts, but the bruising is already receding. It will not be long until it’s healed.
Unfortunately for you, the streets are still relatively busy, and your bloodlust is ever-present and a daunting task to control as you swerve and juke around people. Your mouth waters, and you shake your head like a wet dog to rid yourself of the smog that dampens and threatens to dwarf your self-restraint. The rain starts to drizzle, just as you predicted. The drops plane down your face, and you curse the skies because the scent of the rainfall on the dry stone of the street hampers your ability to detect much else.
You arrive at Wyrm's Crossing and follow the strong scent of blood outside a structure you are familiar with - the flophouse where Astarion's siblings were. The building is ominously dark and far too quiet. You sniff the air. It tastes almost bitter on your tongue, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the metallic richness, but you vaguely make out notes of rosemary and bergamot. You try to open the door, but it’s locked. Locks are hardly a challenge. You cast Knock and crack the door open. The fragrance of blood wafts so thickly in the air that you swear you almost see technicolour as you swoon.
It’s pitch-black inside, and your feet immediately come into contact with a stiff, cold mass on the floor, tripping you. Fire bursts to life in your palm, and mutilated bodies greet the illumination with milky eyes. Some have their intestines spilling out of their abdomens like gooey red ribbons. Others are missing the bottom of their jaw with their meaty tongues lolling out. These people were not just merely killed. They were brutalized, mutilated, and mauled.
A thick slick of congealing blood sloshes around your boots. It drips off the ceiling and down the walls like scarlet raindrops shed from dark skies, softly signifying sorrow's sharp sting. If your heart had not already hardened to macabre scenes like this, you imagine you would be sick. Instead, true to the monster you’ve become, it takes considerable effort not to drop to your knees and start lapping up the sanguine nectar like some thirsty mutt.
You are veritably shaking under the duress of temptation as you crawl over bodies to the one heartbeat that remains. Astarion sits at a table in an alcove in the back with a bottle of spirits clutched in his hand, several more littered around his feet on the floor. He stares abstractly at nothing, a million miles away, bleak and cold.
“Astarion…” you whisper, trying to get a decent look into his eyes.
“Darling?” His brows round when he looks at you, frowning and narrowing his glossy eyes. “You are afraid. Oh, no-no. Don’t be afraid. I didn’t mean to…” He’s confused, and it breaks your heart. “I killed them all, but I don’t remember. I am me now. I’m me - Astarion.”
“I know,” you purr, noticing that he seems to have to remind himself of who he is. “It’s okay.”
“Okay?” He scoffs, bringing the bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. He sways in his chair, causing it to creak, “This is about as far from okay as it gets. Did you not hear me? I killed them. I killed all of them.”
“I heard you,” you cradle his cheek and walk his gaze away from the body he seems fixed on. “We need to go home, Astarion. Before somebody finds us here.”
“Why?” He snaps, gesturing around with a satirical chuckle, “I will probably just kill them too. Or perhaps I will simply compel them to forget their names or their entire lives. Why stop there? How far do you think my power goes? Do you think I could compel them to forget how to breathe?”
“Astarion, please,” you slip the bottle from his fingers and crouch with your hand on his thigh. “Come with me.”
“I hurt you again today,” he sighs, staring at his empty hand with furrowed brows. “How do you sleep with me in the same residence? The same bed? How can you even stand to look at me? Gods. You must fucking hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” you cannot help the tears pricking your eyes. He looks lost as his eyes roam aimlessly, climbing toward the ceiling. “I love you.”
“You love me… Do you regret it?” He whispers, curling his empty hand into a fist repeatedly as if he’s unsure if the hand he’s looking at belongs to him, “Helping me complete the Rite, allowing me to turn you, falling in love with me.”
“No,” your answer is immediate, and the uncompromising intonation surprises even you. “The only thing I regret is that we did not know enough about the Rite.”
“You’re lying,” he concludes, hollow, distant, and abject.
“Open the bond and check my truthfulness if you wish,” you retort. Your whole body shakes as you try to make sense of this broken man before you, “I wanted to be with you for eternity. Everything has a cost. I paid it willingly.”
“Do you know why I turned you?” He asks, face contorting with an anguish you did not believe you would ever see adorn his features again. The corners of his mouth are downturned, eyebrows dropping at the ends, “Do you know why I was so adamant that this was the only way our relationship could continue?”
“I don’t know, Astarion,” you sigh soft and sullen. “I don’t care. What’s done is done.”
“Tell me!” He snarls, slamming his fist into the table and cracking it down the middle, “Tell me why you think I did it! Tell me why you think I fucking killed you!”
You finally relent and sob openly. “Why do you do anything now, Astarion? You wanted to possess me, control me, own me, and make me your obedient puppet.”
“No, my love,” he heaves a tremulous sigh, shaking his head. His eyes are vacant and unseeing, blinking slowly. “Nothing so sinister as that. I was afraid. I was still fucking afraid. I knew you would age and die while I remained the same forever. You would leave me alone again, and I feared a world, a life, without you. I took your life and bound you to me for eternity for no other reason than selfishness, but I always was remarkably selfish. Wasn’t I?” Astarion gazes around at the grisly affair of his making, “Why can’t I remember? I am sick. Aren’t I?”
“We will save you,” you slip your finger under his chin like he’s done to you so often and direct his gaze to yours. Your eyes blister with resolve, and your voice bleeds the same, trying to fill him with strength, “But I need you to keep fighting, Astarion. You must not give up.”
“For you,” he murmurs as his eyes finally appear cognizant. Astarion slides out of his chair, descending to his knees before you like you made you do a lifetime ago, and wraps his arms around you. He presses his cheek against your stomach and whimpers, fingers curling into your clothes. “I will fight to my last, my love.”
Sunlight filters into the window, golden rays bathing the room as your eyes flutter open. You nuzzle against the silk pillowcase before your mind bombards you with memories of your skin loosening, dripping, cracking, and the agony that arrested even screams from your throat. You nearly leap off the bed in terror, but solid arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against the strong muscles of a warm chest.
“It’s okay,” Astarion purrs, grappling with your trashing. He places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “I am here. The sun cannot harm you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
It takes your still hazy consciousness a moment to accept the promise of safety before you relax in his embrace with a sigh and roll over to face Astarion, looping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You can smell his blood pumping through his veins just below the surface of that pristine, silken skin, and your mouth waters. Your body urges you to bite, stomach knotting into cramps with the promise of that aromatic, richly decadent blood.
So close.
Before you know what you’re doing, your mouth is open, fangs hovering, and your body seizes. Astarion laughs genuinely, such a sparkling, airy rumble from his perfect lips as they pull into a smile against your cheek.
“Well, good morning to you, too.” He giggles, pushing you away, shaking his head with that playful glower, “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised.” Astarion sinks his fangs into the fanning veins of his wrist and holds it out to you. “Remember, no biting and mind your teeth.”
You’re almost drooling at the oneiric vision of the weeping wounds. The scent of his blood is intoxicating - warm, full-bodied ferrous. The bright red drink of the Gods is a stark contrast to his pale skin, and it takes everything you have in you not to lunge for it. The offer of his blood is new and a little unsettling if you’re being honest.
“Go ahead,” his eyes dart to his dribbling wrist, brows furrowing at your hesitation. “This is no trick. Feed.”
He looks contrite, but there is a new tenderness in the way his eyes are fixed on you like you are shelter from the storm brewing behind his scarlet irises. You cannot handle it any longer. You take his wrist as gently as your fumbling fingers can possibly manage in your near frenzied bloodlust, bringing your lips to the wound. It tastes even better straight from his body, and your eyes roll back with a moan as you focus with a substantial amount of effort on drawing in slow, measured sips instead of trying to drain him dry in an instant.
“That’s enough,” Astarion instructs eventually, tugging his wrist just slightly. You could never get enough of this ambrosia on your tongue, descending into your stomach and making your nerves combust with delight. Your grip tightens on his wrist, and you growl at him, low and throaty.
“Hells,” Astarion groans pleasurably, eyes rolling back. His body trembles with excitement and pleasure. He enjoys this as much as you. He shakes his arm roughly and commands a little more harshly this time. “Love. I said that’s enough. Don’t be a greedy thing now.”
It’s enough to crack the haze that’s fallen over your mind, and you throw yourself from back, detaching from his wrist with panicked breaths. You’re sure when you look at him again, you will be staring at the embodiment of Mephistopheles psychosis, “I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m sorry.”
“Hey-hey,” Astarion coos deeply, like a warm auditory hug on a cold winter’s night. “It’s alright. I’m not angry.”
“You’re not?” You cannot help the stain of surprise that blooms in your voice.
“No, love,” he chuckles, his fingers pressing into your waist, encouraging you to cuddle, and you curl up against his side. He sweeps his thumb across your lower lip, gathering the blood smeared on it and pops it into his mouth with a sly grin. “I was a young vampire too, once upon a century, and I was certainly over-enthusiastic with my consumption of you the first time. It takes time. I can help you with it. We can practice like this.”
Your brows furrow, creasing as you try to think through the residual film of mist. This man is entirely too perplexing. It feels like you’re always trying to run from him, convincing yourself that everything is a trick, that you must be on guard at all times so you don’t get close, but is this just a way for you to hide from what you fear most of all - that you will be unable to save him, and you will lose him all over again.
There’s just no fucking time for this anymore. There is no more time to lose.
Astarion directs your gaze to him, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind?”
“Do you remember what you said last night?”
Astarion’s brows round, and the corners of his eyes crinkle, “Yes.”
“Was any of it real?” You murmur, pushing yourself upright so you can look at him. You request the bond, and Astarion and you unite, transcending time and space, melding together. It takes you a moment to gather yourself, “Or were you just drunk?”
“I meant every word.” Astarion turns suddenly serious, sitting and sagging against the headboard, “I wish to speak to you about something.”
“Are you okay?”
“I am fine.” He combs his fingers through his hair, “You called me Master. I do not wish you to call me that - think of me in those terms. Is that how you see me? As your… ugh,” he casts his eyes to the ceiling, “Master ?”
“No,” you snap, but it’s a lie, and you know it, which means he knows it through the union. You backpedal, “Yes. It is what you are, Astarion. Whether you or I like it, I am your spawn, and you are my master. This is just reality. It will do us no good to pretend that the dynamic of our relationship is different.”
Disappointment slashes across the bond like a blade cutting into your heart. It’s so strong that it physically aches in your chest, and you splay your hand across it and whimper.
Astarion shakes his head, eyes downcast, “I do not want to be your master, little love. I never did. I did not make you a regular spawn.”
“I’m not sure I follow, Astarion. What do you mean you didn’t make me a regular spawn? What other kind of spawn is there?”
Astarion squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, taking a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He leans, opens a drawer and produces a book that looks ancient. Its cover is dulled by timeless centuries, and its spine is broken with loose pages precariously tucked in. His fingers tap the book, staring at it as if he dreads what he’s about to do.
He gives you a skeptical sideways look and passes you the book, “Page 152.”
Opening the book, you flip through the musty, yellowed pages until you reach page 152, titled “The Dark Kiss.” You scan the page, reading it once, twice, three times while Astarion stares at you with an unreadable expression. You can feel him in your head, looking through your eyes, thrusting into the folds of your mind, penetrating the softness of your soul, caressing your most intimate thoughts.
There’s trepidation in him. Your soul practically quivers under the weight of his unease. He is afraid of your reaction, and the entity within him is stoking those glowing embers of worry with its babbling breaths of affirmations, trying to ignite an inferno of fear that will melt through the shackles of his control.
“You need to explain this to me, Astarion,” you gawk at him, swallowing thickly as the information slowly sinks in. You’re unsure if the nervousness making your stomach warp is truly yours or his.
“I made you my bride – consort,” he does not look at you when he speaks. His eyes stare blankly at his twitching fingers. “How many times did I bite you that night?”
“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to recall the memory fogged over from blood loss, “Three. Once when we had sex, once on my wrist, and then my neck.”
Astarion nods, “I don’t remember much from that night, high as I was on the power of 7000 souls, but I do recall my intent. I bit you three times, as described in the book you’re holding, and then gave you my own blood. I told you this bond was unique to you and me because it’s only shared with a bride.”
“I’m sorry.” You rack your fingers through your hair, tousling it into an incomprehensible mess to match your whirling, tangled thoughts, “Are you trying to tell me that we are - what? Vampire married?”
Astarion smirks at the bewilderment adorning your face but looks bashful, “I suppose that’s an accurate description, yes.”
“And you declined to tell me this until now because?”
“Honestly?” Astarion’s eyes drift once again to the ceiling, “I meant to. I had every intention of telling you the truth, and then... I enjoyed the power, the superiority I had over you. I saw fear in your eyes when you looked at me, and I liked it. I liked you believing you were nothing. I wanted to revel in it. It fed the sickness within, and then I was... lost for a while.”
“What does this mean for me exactly?” It takes incredible effort to keep the rising panic from your voice.
Astarion’s eyes widen as your whirlwind of terror is added to the mixture of emotions between you, “It means you’re not quite a spawn, not quite a True Vampire, but as close as one could get while still being bound to me and under my control should I choose to exert it over you. I believe it can be reversed, should you wish it so. I’d have to do a little research--”
“No!” you blurt out in a yelping retort that makes Astarion flinch. He assumes your anxiety is due to being bound to him in such a way, you realize. The truth of it is your panic is a shadow looming over the increasingly dire odds of everything you stand to lose.
A friend. A lover. A partner. A... husband?
You smirk at the notion, pushing away that worry - you have time to worry later. Right now, you want to enjoy this. It’s the closest you have gotten to Astarion telling you he loves you. Perhaps, the closest you will ever get, and some sad speck of your soul laps at that wound and dabs it with this new information as if it might cure the incurable.
“Well,” you shift into his lap, leaning into the asylum he’s promising you through the bond, “I’m definitely going to start calling you husband now. I hope you’re prepared for that.”
“HA!” Astarion giggles, shaking his head with an endearingly lop-sided grin. His unkempt silver curls fall and bounce carelessly, “But of course. I can deny you nothing, wife. I wish to try and undo what he,” he corrects himself. “…I did - your name. I might be able to reverse it, but I’m not entirely sure how. You need to trust me, and I can feel you do not.”
You’re a little bemused that there is something Astarion doesn’t know how to do, and you grin at him, your fangs peeking out of your lips.
“Good Gods,” he rolls his eyes at you with a heartwarming smirk. “I am all-powerful, not all-knowing. Compelling is instinctive. Releasing it is another story entirely.”
You want to trust him. Gods above, you long to trust him like you used to, but how can you, given what you know? You wrench on the tide of the bond, causing it to spill and break over you as ocean waves crash upon boulders that dare protrude from its surface. You scour the chords of the harmony, picking them apart note by note, feeling for any sign of manipulation, deceit, or ill intent. Astarion flinches, squeezing his eyes shut with a wheeze, but he does not attempt to stop your search. You find nothing, but then again, he is the Vampire Ascendant. If he wants to hide something from you, he will.
If you want to get your name back, you have little choice.
“Do it,” you confirm.
“Look into my eyes,” Astarion purrs in a deep baritone. “Remember, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”
Bringing your eyes to his, the crimson in his eyes sparks alive, like little matches aglow in the red sea, and you have never seen sparks quite so beautiful.
The sensation starts mellow, like the flow of a calm spring, as it trickles through your mind. It feels like liquid fingers whispering against your psyche. The sensation makes your skin prickle, and goosebumps erupt all over. You want to shudder, but your body cannot move. Tributaries branch off and stream until your whole brain feels like it is being grasped by a hand.
And that’s where the pain begins in a sudden influx, a steely, jarring stab, and it feels like his fingers are in your brain, parting every crimp, crease, bend and wrinkle like you are a tome to be read. You’re unsure how long you can take this as he picks your mind apart, looking for whatever compulsion does. You manage to let out a whine, and his eyes flick.
“I know it hurts,” he soothes. “Just a little more, I think. Can you hold on?”
You can only whimper your response. You’re not sure if it sounds like a no or a yes. He continues his dismantling forage, ferreting around in your mind. Suddenly, something changes. All those tributaries and calm, flowing springs snap into one spot, and white-hot pain blooms in your eyesight, blinding you. You’re positive he’s cutting a piece of brain matter right out of your skull. You want to writhe, to scream, to beg him to stop, but you cannot.
You wonder if you might pass out, and then you hope you pass out as the pain becomes more than you can bear. Sharp, like a red-hot blade, has punctured your skull, pierced your brain, and is now broiling against your grey matter. Your vision starts to tunnel, black borders encroaching, blurring everything but the glow from Astarion’s eyes.
Just as you think you're going to lose consciousness, a knot untangles, an invisible barrier crumples, and the bondage on your body eases.
“Hey,” Astarion jostles you, fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” you breathe shakily. “It’s fine. Did it work?”
“I think so?” Astarion rubs the back of his head. “There’s only one way to know for sure. Do you remember your name?”
You think hard, trying to pull it from the deepest recesses of your memories, but you can’t remember it. “No.” You sigh, “Can you say it to me?”
“Illyria?”
Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, please enjoy ☺️
AO3 [Crossposted]
Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts
If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past
Small Notes:
Yay! Tav can hear her name, but does she actually remember it?
I'm leaning into the "Dark Kiss" bride/consort theory because why not?
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His workout is getting pretty intense, don’t you think 🌚
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Romanticizing my villain arc (going to therapy)
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if you thought I was done making memes, you're very wrong
more durge x gale posts
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😭✋🤣🤣🤣🤣
Shadowheart discussing the severity of their situation while Astarion chimes in from across the camp
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Incredible power move to make one of the most beloved crpgs ever made using a modified dnd 5e system, make a ton of money and shit on most AAA game studios in the process, then say “cool. Anyway fuck dnd 5e and wizzards of the coast. We’re doing our own thing now.”
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Shadowheart 🤝 Durge
“Who the fuck am I”
Gale 🤝 Karlach 🤝 Durge
“Something inside me wants to destroy”
Shadowheart 🤝Gale 🤝Lae’zel 🤝Durge
"The gods are screwing with us"
Astarion🤝Wyll🤝Durge🤝Karlach
"Being a tyrant’s favourite pet/attack dog sucks"
Durge 🤝Shadowheart🤝Lae'zel🤝Minthara
"Turns out I'm in a cult"
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Dhampir Dreams
Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Tav (Generic/Unnamed)
Rating: Explicit (Smut)
Key Tags: breeding kink, pregnancy kink, body worship, light dom/sub, light bondage, light praise kink, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it dacryphilia, cunnilingus, PIV, Astarion’s past trauma, smut with so many feelings but nearly no plot, character introspection
Summary:
Tav saw beauty in Astarion he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.
Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.
Or: an angsty-turned-horny character study about the pale elf and his thoughts on creating new (un)life.
A/N: This is my first stab at writing a more generic Tav. Tav in this piece is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Most other identifying features are left out.
Click here to read on AO3 instead
Astarion’s never thought much about making another vampire.
In the rare moments the notion occurred to him, he shoved it to the far back shelf of his mind so as not to waste himself on an exercise in futility. What did it matter, after all, while Cazador still lorded over him?
More than anything, Astarion yearned to see Cazador’s blood spill. In his mind’s eye, he’d watch it pool across the floor, not unlike the way he'd seen so much clothing puddled at so many heels. The lake he’d make of his master would be wide enough to swallow the garments of all who’d stripped bare before Astarion. Every sweat-soaked night he found himself bound to another moldering mattress beneath someone else’s weight, rocking through the motions that left his stomach sour, he’d fill his mind with such sweet dreams as Cazador’s death.
Whether Cazador would allow Astarion to drink his blood before being relieved of it varied with the fantasy. The dream changed as often as the hands on Astarion’s hips. It mattered little to him whether Cazador’s end came with true vampirism or not. As long as he ended.
As long as the vile river of shit that comprised Astarion’s life ended, one way or another. For better. Or for good.
Of course, he flirted with the fantasy of his own spawn, sent out like skittering spiders to dispense his will. Foul little monsters they would be. Fine tools to have in his arsenal; Astarion would only want such wretches of his own the way one might want a hammer to pound a nail. And what he wanted didn’t hold any weight while bound in Cazador’s chains.
So the idea recoiled into the dusty recesses of his mind, collecting cobwebs kitty-corner to such out of reach trophies as freedom from his servitude to Cazador and the sun itself. Both still gleamed, despite the tarnish of time and hope rusted over. Despite Astarion’s prayers, no heroes came to save him. No gods or slayers or saviors spared him from his servitude.
Until the illithids did.
Despite everything -- the centuries of torment, the hollow where his heart should be, its silence in his ribcage, the scars on his back, the thousands of other lashes that Cazador let fade from his porcelain skin -- Astarion did the one thing Cazador could never.
He stood in the sun. And on the sands of that same beach, another miracle washed ashore. A contradiction. His counterweight to everything else he’d ever known.
Tav.
Astarion’s hands roam the supple shape of her nestled against his bare chest. Her breath crests and falls soft and rhythmic, like the gentle slap of waves against the cliffs where they first found each other. His darling is always so serene in her sleep. Astarion dips his head down, nosing her splayed hair on the pillow, drinking in the lovely scent of lavender that always lingers with his lover.
Often, he wakes before her, as he does now in the dim blue light of dusk. Not yet dark enough for him to step outside, but for the moment, there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be. Not even in the raw, rippling light of day.
The smell of her has his eyelids heavy again, the steady patter of her heartbeat hypnotic in his head. His hands curve over the flare of her hips before slipping beneath the hem of her tunic. He stifles the satisfied hum that bubbles in the back of his throat as his palm smooths down the lithe stretch of her stomach. He resettles with his nose in the crook of her neck, eyelashes grazing the twin puncture scars that mark her as his.
He’d thought, once, that he’d ascend and have her at his side for an eternity. He was scared. Frantic. Grasping. He thought he had to grasp at something, fashion some sort of tether, to have her. Thought he had to have power, and enough of it, to keep her. Now he holds her every morning in the bed they share, until day becomes night again. It’s as effortless as blinking.
Now, the thought of turning Tav into a vampire turns his stomach.
His lips brush, tender, to the flutter of her pulse in her neck. He loves those marks he gave her. He loves the way her fingertips tap against them when she’s lost in thought. He loves the way she arches into his arms as he feeds, the way her body gives and gives to him alone. That sleepy, slap-happy smile she has when he’s lapped his last for the evening. The way her eyes roll back, and she gasps, breathless, as he kisses a trail from her neck to a nipple and sucks fervently.
He loves that he’s marked her, but that it didn’t change her. He can still curl into the heat of her skin at night. Still watch her preen in a mirror. Still stare at those gorgeous eyes and know the shade of them is hers. Her cheeks still turn the shade of sunrise when he leans in with a lustful whisper, or grazes her waist with a feather-light touch.
Absently, his fingers follow the path of an old scar on her stomach. At its end, he finds the start of softness. Astarion loves that, too. She didn’t used to be soft there, when they were just surviving. They’re not just surviving anymore.
Perhaps he’s changed her after all. It’s not so scary anymore to admit she’s turned him, too. Not to the light, or anything so nauseatingly righteous. But rather, so Astarion could see himself in it. Even if his days of standing in the sun are done.
I’ll be your mirror, she vowed, what feels like another lifetime ago. She smiled in that fond way of hers that, at the time, hurt to look at too long. He scoffed at her poetic ruminations on his hair curling near his ears. The creases when he laughs.
Tav saw beauty in him he couldn’t have seen himself, even if he had a reflection to gawk at. She made love with a man who never thought he could have anything near it. Made all his red dreams come true, and then said: go on, make new ones, in whatever color you like.
Astarion never thought about being a father. Not before her.
He’s thought of Tav as a mother before. It flitted through his mind when Astarion watched her ease Arabella’s pounding heart with the gentleness of her own. That feeling lingered when Yenna joined their camp, and Astarion caught Tav teaching her cards. Combing the snarls from the girl’s hair. Coaching her in the basics of swordplay.
She’d be a wonderful mother. Astarion has no doubts in that regard. And he, well…
He doesn’t have an example to look back on, or one to look up to. But he has his compass. Tav’s heart beats, sure and steady, in his ear. That sound’s guided him through so much else. How could he lose his way for long, if there were two pitter-patters to listen to?
His palm paints cool over that blooming softness in her stomach. An ache burns in his own. The sort of hunger her blood won’t sate. Would she taste even sweeter, he wonders, with her body rounded and swollen?
Of course she would. So hard to improve something so perfect already. But she’d be radiant, if she were ripe with their child.
And after, when their babe is born, and her body is new all over again, he'd love every line, every fold, every mark that came from their coupling. He’d worship every part of her that was remade by the two of them to make the three of them. Marvel at the way the same body that first truly fed him would feed their child, too.
He’d help her find her way back to pleasure in her own way, in her own time. Just as she did for him. His Tav gives, and gives, and he’d give her anything, everything, for the rest of his days, if a wretch like him would be so stupidly blessed to be the father of her child.
Astarion pulls a breath between his teeth, his nose flooding with her floral scent again. That would change, too. She’d carry new notes in her sweat, in her slick, in her blood, while carrying their babe. Astarion wants to taste them all, to learn what songs she can sing while he does.
Instinctually, he presses to the plump of her ass to soothe the building stiffness in his cock. He plants a muted hum in the fabric of the pillow. His groin throbs to the thump-thump of his compass, beating oblivious beneath her ribs.
He pictures pouring into her, night after night, his spend spilling in little translucent rivers down her slicked thighs, overflowing from her cunt. Too much for her to hold in, but she’d take him as long as it takes until life sparks inside of her. Tav’s determined in all her undertakings. Resilient.
And in his dreams, she’s pliant. Pleading.
“Star, please.”
She’s trembling in that slinky, translucent nightgown she wears to bed sometimes. The one that hardly hides her skin, but cloaks it in a delectable, silvery sheen. He likes it too much to ruin it. Or at least, he has every other night.
Oh, he’d like to ruin it, now.
Tav’s pupils are blown black with want. Sweat shimmers on her skin, spurring his tongue to swipe his own lips. Her shoulder peeks bare from her nightgown, and Astarion can see her pebbled nipples, dark beneath the sheer silk that separates them. Hardened with hardly a touch. A feeling he’s intimately familiar with. His cock twitches as he strokes the back of his hand over the soft swell of her breast.
“Aren’t you sore, sweet thing?” He tries for tender, but it comes out coarse. Rough like the way he wants to grip her hips.
“So be gentle,” she says with a sultry smile, lips peeled apart and glistening just enough that Astarion can’t peel his eyes away. “I know you’ll take good care of me.”
Astarion slinks forward, crowding her against the edge of the bed. Careful, like cradling glass, his palm reaches out to cup the side of her cheek. She sighs into the touch, the curve of her smile reaching the heel of his hand.
“Always,” he says reverently, before his voice sinks to a growl. “You’re always so, so eager…for me.”
Her lashes flutter low over hungry eyes. All it takes is one little wordless bob of her head for Astarion’s own hunger to have the best of him. With a lazy roll of his wrists, he shoves her back with kind but firm force. The mattress bends with her impact, her breathless laughter nearly lost beneath the whine of the wooden frame. Astarion crawls after her, hands fisting in her nightgown, and pulling her free of it.
And then, she’s bare beneath him. Writhing from his tongue and teeth. Gasping out the best words he’s ever heard. Astarion downs them like a man starved, kissing her with the kind of fervor he thought reserved for bloodlust. But her lips, the promises they pour, are sustenance all on their own.
“I’m yours,” she whispers, “all yours. Always. All of me.”
Astarion can’t stifle the whine that drags from some hollow in his chest he never knew about before.
The bed creaks as he hitches one of Tav’s limber legs up over his shoulder and nips a path of sharp kisses from her ankle to the crux of her thigh. He pauses, sweeping a feverish gaze over the spread of her: legs parted in his grip, that perfect slit, already wet with want, the rest of her sprawled naked across the bed, at his mercy, at his desire, at her own.
He leans down, tongue dipping leisurely through her cunt. Always, she swore. So there’s no hurry in how he takes apart the woman he loves so dearly, in one of her favorite ways to be unmade. No matter how many times she claws the sheets and hisses, “Please, Star. F-fuck, I need you inside of me.”
It turns something in the depths of him to hear his own name said as a prayer. It makes him want with a force and harshness stronger than any thirst he’s felt for blood. He wants to turn her. Change her. Forever, for good. For the life they could make from their bodies, bound as close as souls could be. He wants to see her swell with the love they make, with all the love he’ll leave inside her.
She’s so close, her legs quaking violently when her hand tangles his hair and yanks his head upright. She’s beautiful, flushed ruby red, taking her air in shallow doses. Her eyes burn with equal measures adoration and reproach.
Astarion smirks, unrepentant, lips smeared with devotion. “My love, any work of art takes time. And that’s what we’re making, you know. When others look upon our progeny, they will weep in the sight of such beauty.”
“If all it takes is time, dearest,” she says, with a smile just as filthy, “then I don’t want to waste one second of it lying here empty.”
“Mmm,” Astarion sighs, nosing down against her throbbing clit, eyes flashing back to hers as he dares another lick. Her fist tightens in his hair. Astarion only chuckles.
“You’re right, of course,” he croons. “That won’t do, at all. I do recall promising to-- how did you put it the other night? ‘Fuck you full and senseless’? I’m more partial to what you begged me for a tenday ago, when I had you face-down and waiting for me as soon as the sun was set. Remind me again, my love, what you said when you weren't gasping my name?"
Astarion presses the tip of his tongue to her clit again and tastes her rapid, ravenous pulse in the heat of it. Tav’s hips jerk in response, but he holds her fast.
“I-I said I want-- that I want--”
“You want me to ‘breed you like a damn animal’," he finishes for her. "Oh, don’t be shy now, my sweet. We’re far past that. And we want the same things, after all. But," he sighs, letting his lips drag through her flushed folds, "I've another promise to keep, first.”
Astarion flicks his wrist, muttering magic beneath his breath. Tav’s sharp little yelp of surprise shoots heat straight to his groin. His cock throbs as she settles again, arms bound above her head by his mage hand, tits bouncing from the slightest struggle against her restraints. She smirks up at him, eyes aflame with fresh desire. Escape is the farthest thing from what she wants.
“You lie back now, dear,” Astarion drawls. “You’ll take me soon enough. You’ll be so good for me, like you always are, and take everything I give you. And I’ll take very, very good care of the woman I intend to make a mother.”
Astarion watches her keenly, tracing his forefinger down through her slick. He unfurls it, circling her cunt daintily, and watching her writhe for even the faintest promise of friction. He’s not sure if it’s his mercy or his selfishness that readily discards the thought of keeping her here, just like this, for the rest of the day. She’s mesmerizing, with the way her back arches from the blankets, and how her body strains towards any touch he’ll spare her.
All mine, he thinks, with a smile that makes him feel weightless. He grounds his hardened cock against the edge of the bed, groaning. All yours, darling. Just for you.
Pride rumbles low in his chest as he sets his mouth back to work again and knows she can’t cover her own. There’s no muffling his name pouring from her lips. No hiding how she cries for him. Her whole body winds taut, shuddering with every stroke of his tongue.
Finally, finally, he lets his finger slip inside her. Astarion sighs into a satisfied purr, letting the tremble of it soak into her sex. Her cunt’s a vice around his knuckle. Every pump of his finger feeds the building burn inside him, fanning the ache to be sheathed in that tightness. He only aches more, feeling her squeeze around his finger, and knowing she longs for him just the same.
He slips in a second finger to join the first, feeling her spread and then clench anew. Astarion ruts aimlessly into the mattress, in time with the thrust of his wrist. The head of his cock weeps anticipation with the rogue tear trailing down the side of her cheek. It’s only pleasure that makes her cry.
There’s only love in her heavy-lidded gaze as she pants, “Please.”
Mercy, then, Astarion resolves. For both of them.
Her thighs quiver against his ears like leaves in a breeze. Astarion swirls his tongue against the bud of her clit and sucks tightly. Tav stiffens abruptly. His arms hook firm around her legs as a shattered sound breaks from her throat,and a hard tremor courses through her hips.
He holds her through it, pinning her to the bed until just the faintest brush of his lips has her shuddering. The start of her plaintive whimper has him easing back. A murmured word sets her wrists free of her restraints. Her heart still hammers, sumptuous, in his head, as he peppers her legs in kisses soft as velvet.
“Beautiful,” he whispers with each one, slinking up her body while she comes back down. “So, so beautiful.”
He thinks of new life, as his knee bends between her thighs and drags her open all over again. He thinks of the graveyard, where he had her freely beneath the stars, in the dirt where he woke centuries ago. He thinks he’d be happy to die again, this way, as he slides forward and buries himself inside her waiting heat.
Astarion grates out a long, low moan as he basks in the wrap of her arms and her cunt. Dimly, he feels her fingertips threading gently through his curls. He thinks of sunlight on his skin again as he sinks in fully, bracing his arms on either side of her head, letting his forehead tilt against hers. He can feel her pulse thrumming through her body, through his cock, through his fogged-over thoughts. His hips roll to the sound, as if it beckoned him to motion. Tav’s head drops back into the pillows. She lets out a long, contented hum, while her body rocks in time with his.
“Is this what you needed, darling?” He huffs a laugh, catching her lips in chaste kiss. It’s enough for her to taste her own sweetness. And one squeeze from her cunt is enough to cut his breath away all over again.
“I think you needed me, too,” she purrs.
“Y-yes,” he stammers through bared teeth, his throat tied taut as she wrings him for all he’s worth. “Yes.”
She knows exactly what he needs, what he yearns for. He needs her, needs this, needs to see his seed seeping from her fucked-out hole, pink and puffy and leaking. He’ll know the rest of it was spent so deep inside her, her fertile womb is flooded. That’s his, too, with the rest of her.
Hips high for me, beautiful, he’ll say, when his last thrust is done. And he’ll hold her legs up against his shoulders, kiss her heels, and slip the pillow beneath her pelvis. Just to be sure it takes.
It’ll be another couple months before they’ll start to see the fruit of their efforts. Until Tav starts to bloom with it. And then, he’ll be hard pressed not to have his hands on her every hour. Cupping the fresh heft of her breasts as they grow with the passing days, heavy from him, for the babe growing in her belly. He’ll soothe her weepy eyes and tits alike, with a skilled tongue and sweet whisper. Rub her shoulders to ease the new weight her bones carry. Draw his nose down her neck and smell not just her, but himself, and the consequences of what they did, right here in this bed.
Feel her change beneath his hands and feel so fucking proud to be the reason.
Pleasure winds, binding, around his cock, and he feels that hunger snap its jaws around him all over again. His hips snap with it, jerking frantically. I need you, all of you, he thinks, and if he weren’t already fucking her, he’d be on his knees, begging for all he’s worth. Her cunt quivers, and he’s lost to the grip of her. Astarion shoves his own knuckles in his mouth to stifle a strangled cry.
“Star?”
Astarion rips awake in a sweat. He sees familiar wooden beams above his head, above his bed. Sunlight streaks the floorboards, leaking from behind the curtains. Turning his cheek, he finds his lover peering at him from over her shoulder, concern wrinkling her face. Tav still lays on her side, and Astarion still presses against her back. But his hand clamps tight to her thigh, bare where he hiked up her tunic. And his cock twitches fitfully against her ass, unspent and painfully hard.
Just a dream, then. For now, at least.
He lets out a long, weary sigh, slumping back into the sheets. Tav tilts her head, the worry in her gaze gradually dissolving into a mischievous gleam.
“I thought you might--” she starts, snickering, “but you were having sweet dreams, weren’t you?”
“The best I’ve ever had,” Astarion mutters mournfully as he buries his face in his pillow. “You were there, of course.”
Astarion rarely sleeps anymore. It’s not normal, not natural for an elf. But it was a trick he taught to dodge Cazador’s torment at least for a few hours a day. Reverie used to mean putting the horrors on repeat. He’d slowly eased from the habit, now that he has new memories worth seeing a second, third, or hundredth time.
Still, occasionally, he drifts to sleep without meaning to. Sometimes, he wanders off into novel nightmares. Or, if he’s lucky, he dreams of making love to his wife and making her pregnant. Of making their own little dhampir.
His hips shift, and he hisses. Pre-cum seeps from the head of his cock, slickening the shaft. It’s not enough. Not after such a succulent fantasy. But one touch from his darling might have him sated, if not entirely satisfied. Pleasure stabs, sharp, through his groin as she shifts and brushes him with her motion. He grimaces.
Just one touch alone could do it.
“I’m here now,” she smirks, twisting to face him. Her hand slips down between them. Mercy, he thinks, as her fingers wrap his length. He thrusts into her palm with a pleading whimper. “Tell me all about these dreams of yours.”
A/N: If you're yelling "Let him breed!!" at the screen just know I'm right there with you holding a megaphone about it 💜
If there's interest (from others & myself) perhaps there might be a part two where Tav takes matters into her own hands. Makes him say exactly what he wants, if he wants to have it so bad 👀
If you'd like me to add you to a tag list for future one-shots, or all of my future BG3 fic (including multi-chapters), leave me a comment and let me know which you'd like!
& HUGE thank you to some lovely Discord and Tumblr friends/moots who cheered me on as I worked on this one! 💜
Tag List: @wilteddreamsofbaldursgate
Banner credit to @cafekitsune
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