#I Hail From Silverymoon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lirotation · 7 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: The New Beginning

POV my little fanfic Astarion X Amaara(my Tav). I won't delve into the ending of BG3, as it tends to put me in a sour mood. I just want to say that as someone who is married for 10+ years, I can already hear Astarion bringing up his "sacrifice" over and over and over again in their future.

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The morning after their wild victory celebration, Astarion had woken up feeling rather content, despite the fact that he lost the ability to walk under the sun. The room was beautifully decorated, and having Amaara next to him was nice.

"Good morning, my sweet," he purred into her ear, his lips brushing gently against her skin. He expected her to respond with a playful smile or a teasing remark, as they often did when sharing such intimate moments.

However, her groggy reply had taken him aback. "No, let me sleep," she muttered, turning away from him.

Astarion chuckled softly, but he continued to attempt to engage her in conversation. He gently nibbled on her ear, and whispered, "I was thinking about going to the Underdark, the spawns we freed need a leader."

"You can go," she muttered, seemingly without any hesitation. Astarion's frustration grew as he realized that she was agreeing to him leaving alone.

"And where will you be going?" he asked, his voice laced with irritation and hurt.

Amaara, still battling a throbbing headache and not fully awake, replied without much thought, "I am going to Waterdeep with Gale."

Astarion's anger flared. "What? With Gale? " He raised his voice, "After everything I sacrificed for you? How can you do this to me?" he said, his voice tinged with hurt.

Amaara was taken aback by his sudden outburst. She winced as the noise aggravated her hangover, and she gingerly sat up in bed, cradling her throbbing head. Confusion clouded her expression as she tried to make sense of his words.

"What did you sacrifice?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine puzzlement. She truly didn't understand what he was referring to. "And what did I do?"

Astarion took a deep breath, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of emotions. Finally, he said, "I gave up the profane ascension for you! I gave up my ability to be under the sun for you! Now, you are casting me aside?"

"Wait, what? I am not casting you anywhere," Amaara replied, her confusion deepening. Her foggy mind struggled to make sense of the situation. "I am going to Waterdeep, with Gale." she repeated, "we talked about this, now you don't want to go with us, you wish to go to the Underdark, I respect your decisions. I will go find you once I am able."

"When did we talk about this?" Astarion was furious, "You would rather travel with Gale than with me?"

"…" Amaara was getting pretty frustrated too, her head felt like splitting open, patience, Amaara, she took a deep breath. "We talked about this right after Cazador's death. I said I will go to Waterdeep, Candlekeep, and even Silverymoon to find a cure for you." She signed, "now we have Mystra's chosen as a friend, I intend to use that connection. I assumed you would go with me, but you are your own person and can make your own decisions. Maybe it is for the best if you go wait for me in the Underdark."

Amaara's explanation seemed to calm Astarion's anger somewhat, although a trace of frustration still lingered in his voice. "I don't remember much from that day," he admitted, "I was not myself." He paused, then he said with a small voice, "I would still like to travel with you."

"Then we will travel at night and rest during the day. "She smiled. "We have to wait for Gale to return from Mystra. In the meantime, I will dig in Baldur's Gate to see if there is anything helpful here. Waterdeep is more promising though. In our travels, I found a hint that the Cloak of Dragomir was last seen around Waterdeep."

"What is that?" he asked.

"A cloak that allows a vampire to travel outside during the day in full view of the sun." She answered, "with drawn backs, of course, you will probably hate it, but we will have more autonomy with it. We won’t always be in the cities. There is that ancient dragon who ate my entire caravan when I was traveling to Baldur’s gate. I want to see if there is a wish spell somewhere in her hoard."

"You…put a lot of thoughts into this." His voice grew quiet.

Amaara couldn't help but chuckle at his comment, "Well, someone has to think ahead," she teased, "especially when I have a lover as reckless as you."

A smile appear on Astarion's face, "I am sorry about earlier."

"It's alright," she reassured him. "I understand you were frustrated. Forgive me for being unclear too. I am having a massive hangover. Please take pity on your lover who does not share your fast regeneration."

He grinned mischievously. "Ah, but that's the price of a good time, my dear. Perhaps I should teach you a thing or two about handling your drinks."

Amaara chuckled, her fingers gently tracing a pattern on his arm. "Then it's settled. We'll search the city and wait for Gale to return. And when he does, we'll set out on our journey together."

Astarion leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. "I look forward to our adventures, my dear. Everything is a lot more fun when we do it together. We make an excellent team."

With their plans now aligned and their connection strengthened, they faced the uncertain future with renewed determination and hope.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanart #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanart #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #procreate #i hail from silverymoon #my tav #amaara ashvale

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lirotation · 9 months

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POV my little fanfiction, Astarion X Amaara Ashvale(my Tav after many many backstory tweak).

Amaara Ashvale stood before Halsin, her expression a mixture of surprise and disbelief. The request he had just made was beyond anything she had anticipated.

Halsin's gaze held a mixture of earnestness and a touch of challenge. "Amaara," he began again, his tone soft but resolute, "nature doesn't always adhere to the constructs of monogamy. The heart's affections can be fluid, and relationships can take on various forms."

She blinked, her mind racing to process his words. The implications of what he was suggesting began to dawn on her, and her cheeks flushed.

"I am very flattered, Halsin," Amaara finally managed to say, her voice betraying the slight tremor of her emotions. "But I'm HAPPILY in a relationship."

Halsin's demeanor remained steady, his gaze unwavering. "A relationship that can be reevaluated, given the circumstances."

Amaara's eyes widened, and she felt a rising frustration. The audacity of his words left her momentarily speechless. "Halsin," she said, her tone firmer now, "I cannot and will not entertain such a notion. My heart belongs to someone else."

Halsin's gaze flickered, his expression a mix of understanding and persistence. "Astarion," he mentioned, "You two are joined body and soul. I can smell his scent on your skin." his voice dropping in volume, "Maybe he would enjoy the idea, maybe even participate."

The shock of his words cut through her like a blade. Amaara's usually composed demeanor wavered, her eyes narrowing as her voice hardened, "No, Halsin, I am no druid but I've read my share of books. Two male bears would fight for a female, not share one. Nature isn't an excuse to mask personal inclinations. And as far as I know, nature doesn't dictate the intricacies of emotional connection."

With that, she turned away, her steps quickening as she distanced herself from the uncomfortable conversation. Her heart raced, and a swirl of emotions churned within her.

As she walked aimlessly around camp, her thoughts fixed to Astarion. They had shared battles, secrets, and moments of closeness. Yet, in all the time they had spent together, they had never discussed the nature of their own relationship.

After Astarion's heartfelt confession, she had assumed so much, taken their connection for granted. The realization hit her like a spell, making her heart ache with both guilt and uncertainty.

"Have I been naive?" she muttered to herself.

As the city's lanterns flickered to life around her, casting warm hues against the night, Amaara's resolve solidified. She would not let Halsin's words shake her confidence in what she shared with Astarion. But she couldn't escape the lingering question: how will this relationship play out if they have different core values?

Finally, she approached Astarion. As she looked at him, his figure illuminated by the soft glow of the fire, she took a deep breath and spoke.

"Astarion," she began, her voice carrying a blend of vulnerability and courage, "You won't believe the crazy conversation I just had with Halsin."

"Hahaha, I was wondering when you were going to bring that up." Astarion said light heartedly.

His expression puzzled her, "You...you know about it?"

"Pff, It is clear as day what his intentions are." Astarion said, "I just wanted to know one thing—do you felt like something was missing between us now that I can't... well, you know."

"Of course not" Amaara looked up, try to read Astarion's expression better.

"Good," he replied, his voice softer now. "It's good to know."

Their conversation seemed to hang in the air for a moment, the quiet crackling of the fire punctuating the space between them. But then, Astarion's words took a turn that she hadn't anticipated.

"Then you can have as much Halsin as you want."

The words landed with a weight that surprised her, leaving her momentarily speechless. She searched his eyes for any hint of his intentions, any indication of what he might be feeling, but his gaze remained steady, his expression a mixture of ease and nonchalance.

Amaara felt a pang of disheartenment, a pang that she hadn't expected. She realized she had been hoping for a different response, one that would reveal a hint of jealousy, a spark of possessiveness—a sign that he cared.

But his response, while honest, was a reminder of the complex nature of their relationship. It was a reminder that his feelings and perspectives were shaped by a lifetime of experiences that were far from conventional.

As she looked at him, a swirl of emotions washing over her, Amaara caught herself. She couldn't force Astarion to feel something he might not be capable of feeling, and she shouldn't label him uncaring based on lack of conventional notions of jealousy and possessiveness.

His response was shocking but not surprising. She had been trying her best to cuddle him in this relationship, but there is one line that cannot be crossed. She need to lay it down, to gain some form of security and assurance for herself.

"Astarion," she began softly, her voice determined.

He turned his gaze towards her, his eyes meeting hers with slight apprehension, "if you want to ask me to join the two of you, well, I am not quite ready yet, my sweet."

"I am not going to 'have Halsin' or anyone else for that matter. There's something I want to talk to you about," she snapped despite trying to swallow the unwelcomed disappointment. "It's about us."

He leaned back against a log, his expression pensive as he listened.

"Astarion," she began again, her voice gentle yet resolute, "You have no idea how relieved I was when you decided to open up to me. Your history, your experiences. I...I am pretty bad when it comes to the matter of heart, so I will just be blunt. From what I understand, for you, physical intimacy isn't the same as it might be for others."

His brow furrowed slightly as he regarded her.

"Your past, the way you've used seduction and... well, sex, as a weapon," she paused, choosing her words carefully, "I understand that it's something you don't hold in high regard. That it's been twisted into something you can't even care about anymore."

After a moment of pulse, she continued, "I will never understand truly the horrible trama you've endured, but I will try my best to respect your wishes. I..." She inhaled sharply, try to master the courage, "I also want to make something clear to you, something that's important to me."

Astarion blinked, curiosity and caution dancing in his eyes.

"Fidelity," she finally said softly, "is important to me. I've been hurt before, Astarion. I've been betrayed. And I can't help but carry those scars with me."

Understanding began to dawn in his expression as he met her gaze, his guard starting to lower.

"I've seen the way you've protected me, fought by my side," she continued, her voice growing firmer. "And I know that you value our connection. But I also want you to know that, for me, fidelity is about emotional commitment, as well as the physical act."

Astarion's shoulders seemed to relax slightly, a mixture of vulnerability and something akin to relief in his features.

"I will be faithful to you, for as long as we are together. In turn, even if physical intimacy means nothing to you," she said, her voice gentle but unwavering, "I ask that you respect my feelings on this matter. I ask that you refrain from engaging in such acts with another for whatever reason, even if they hold no significance for you."

"You don't have to worry about that," Astarion mused, "I run away from sex as fast as I used to run away from the sun."

"Please," Amaara sighed, "I am not asking for a vow right now. I just want to lay it there, so we both know where we stand."

He met her gaze fully now, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that resonated with her own vulnerabilities, "I want something real with you. but honestly, I don't really know what I am doing. It's just... I've existed for a long time, and my experiences have shaped me in ways that I can't always control."

"I know," she replied softly, "And I don't want you to feel pressured to be someone you're not. I value you for who you are, Astarion."

"You're more straightforward than anyone I've ever met." He smiled, "I appreciate that," his voice carrying a depth of sincerity, "I appreciate you being upfront about what matters to you." His hand reaching out to rest on hers. "This is nice, and I want this to last. I don't know what future holds, but yes, I will try not to mess it up."

They sat in silence for a while, fingers laced, then Astarion smiled smugly, "I guess this means no Halsin for either of us, that's a shame."

#bg3 fanart #astarion fanart #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #astarion fanfiction #astarion #clip studio paint #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #my oc character #I hail from Silverymoon #baldurs gate 3

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail From Silverymoon: First night

POV my little fanfiction

Astarion X Amaara Ashvale (my wizard Tav) Their first night together. no fluff, just smut =/

A sense of hesitation lingered in Amaara's steps, and Astarion's sharp perception didn't miss it. He watched her closely, his voice a low murmur amidst the night's quiet. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes," Amaara affirmed quickly, though a hint of embarrassment colored her response. She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze averted as she spoke. "It's just that, all my life, I've imagined my first time would be in the honeymoon suite of the hotel that overlooks the Moonbridge. I never thought I would do it out in the open like this..."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, "Your first time? I thought you had lovers before."

"I had a suitor," Amaara quickly clarified, chased away the memory of the traumatizing experience, "and a couple stolen kisses. My father was very traditional and stubbornly strict."

A faint chuckle escaped Astarion's lips. "Oh, it looks like I may be ill-prepared then. I'd like to make your first time more memorable. It's a shame we don't have a portal to Silverymoon. It would be nice to visit. I've never ventured out of the Sword Coast."

Amaara's cheeks flushed a deeper shade, her embarrassment evident. "If you would like, I can create an illusion. I want to show you where I grew up."

"Please, you've piqued my interest," Astarion replied.

With a graceful wave of her hand, the surroundings transformed. The room they stood in was adorned with soft silk and delicate chiffon. Piles of books were placed across a desk, and alchemical equipment rested neatly on the shelves. A plush bed beckoned with silk sheets, promising comfort. A large curtained window dominated the far wall.

"I've never been in a honeymoon suite, of course. This...this is my room," Amaara explained. She approached the far wall and drew back the curtain, revealing a breathtaking sight. Just beyond, the Moonbridge shimmered under the starry sky. "You can't really see it from my actual room, but this is a piece of home I always bring with me."

Astarion regarded the opulent surroundings, a nice trick, he thought, very convenient.

he had an easy smile. "Impressive illusion. It sounds like you had led quite the sheltered life."

She blushed. "Father was very protective. But I'm exploring the world now."

"And I look forward to broadening your horizons tonight," Astarion purred, pulling her close. it was better this way. Innocence, in more ways than one, made for an easier target. He offered Amaara a warm smile, his eyes softening, before pulling her gently into a loving kiss. He had observed her closely and appealed to her good side for a while now. He was confident that after tonight, This naïve mage would be fully under his spell.

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Smut Warning =/ manipulative sex. lost of virginity. oral sex.

Astarion gently lift Amaara up, and pinned her against the large window. The simmering of Moonbridge lit up their passionate kiss.

Amaara moaned softly into Astarion's mouth as his hands roamed over her body, his touch igniting a fire within her that she never knew existed. She had read about passion in books, but this was so much more intense than anything she had ever experienced before. She pressed herself against him, wanting more, needing more.

Astarion broke away from the kiss and trailed his lips down her neck, his hands tracing the curve of her waist and the soft swell of her breasts. his fingers deftly undoing the fastenings of her belt. He pulled her tunic over her head and tossed it aside, revealing her supple body in the soft moonlight.

Amaara gasped, her cheeks flushing with heat.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. His strong arms lift her up again, and carried her to the bed.

He laid her down gently as his lips and hands explored her body. His fingers traced the delicate curve of her collarbone, before moving lower toying with the clasp of her bra. He broke away from her lips and watched her face as he undid the clasp and slowly pulled the bra down. Amara's soft breasts were uncovered to his admiring gaze. He lowered his head towards her chest and gently took one of her nipples in his mouth, drawing a soft moan from her lips.

Amaara gasped at the sensation. Her hands knotted in his hair as he teased and tug at her sensitive nipples.

He grabbed her hand and pinned it down in a swift movement, while he moved from her breasts to her stomach, peppering it with kisses as he slowly unzipped her pants. Her skin began to quiver at his touch as he unhooked and pushed them down her long slender legs.

Amaara moaned in protest, her arms moving to cover herself, but Astarion held her wrist gently.

He smirked, voice laced with amusement, "No need to be bashful, my dear."

Amaara's cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty.

"Simply lie back and allow yourself to unwind," he coaxed gently, his tone reassuring. "You can trust me."

Closing her eyes, she tried to steady her nerves, yielding herself to his guidance.

"Absolutely stunning," his words were a hushed murmur, carrying a sense of appreciation and allure.

He undressed quickly and climbed on the bed again. He resumed trailing a path of kisses down her body. The tip of his finger slowly circled Amaara's clit. "You are so wet," he breathed next to her ear. "So ready for me." He positioned himself and slowly entered her, but barely, just the tip of his length.

Amara felt this strange sensation, this delicious pressure that parted her entrance, it was not an unpleasant feeling but still she whimpered.

"Does it hurt?" Astarion asked softly, still lingered at the entrance while worked his tongue on her sensitive zones which he had just skillfully mapped out. Amaara was filled with unbridled desire and faintly quivered under the sensations that stirred within her. She could feel herself arching towards him.. Astarion let out a low chuckle, "So eager, my sweet."

He planted another passionate kiss on her lips and then stopped all his actions, "Do you want this? Do you want to be mine?" He whispered against her skin, his breath cool against her neck.

"Yes," She gasped, shifting underneath him in a desperate plea for more.

"Say my name," He commanded, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. "Say you are mine."

She glanced up and saw that Astarion's gaze held an inscrutable glimmer in its depths, but her mind was too overwhelmed to decipher his thoughts. "I'm yours, Astarion," she whispered softly. "I belong only to you."

Astarion planted a passionate kiss on Amaara as he moved his hips with one swift thrust. She muffled her pained cry against his lips and he stopped, allowing her to adjust to him. "Shh," he whispered comfortingly, "It'll pass." Then he paused momentarily, a strange smile played at the corners of his mouth as he uttered, "I smell blood."

Barely registering what he was saying, Amaara only heard the keyword "blood". She tilted her head to the side and offered her neck. "You can, ummmm, drink."

"You precious, generous thing," Astarion murmured,"I will, at the right moment." He slowly pulled himself away from her. He kissed her chest, then pressed gentle kisses down her stomach until he arrived at his destination.

She raised her head in confusion - what was he doing? But then a wave of pleasure surged through her core as his tongue skillfully darted over her pearl.

Her eyes widened, as the pleasure intensified, and she moaned loudly. He pinned her legs apart, and thrust his tongue deeper inside of her. She arched her back, sobbing at the exquisite pleasure. He stimulated her until sweat was glistening on her forehead, until her moans grew louder and louder, until she was writhing beneath him with pleasure.

The sensation was building like a tidal wave inside her until she cried out his name as a wave of pleasure crashed over her again and again. The surrounding flickered. She could not possibly maintain the illusion in her ecstasy.

"Astarion," she is laying completely naked on the grass now, out in the open, but she could care less. "Astarion, please... more..."

"I haven't even started," Astarion said playfully, "You taste delicious," he licked his lips. His eyes flickered to her neck, and a hunger flared in their depths.

He moved back up to her lips, and kissed her deeply. She could taste herself and the faint sweetness of blood on his lips, but she didn't mind. She wanted him more than anything in the world.

He entered her in one long, deep thrust. Amaara gasped as she felt him fill her, stretching her to her limits, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. He began to thrust into her with a steady rhythm, his movements hastened with each thrust until the sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the air. Panting, she ran her hands over his back, and then rested on his hips, guiding him deeper inside of her.

"So tight," he whispered in her ear. He pulled out of her, lifted her legs on his shoulder, and then rammed into her again, faster this time.

His movements were driving her crazy. She arched her back and moaned loudly.

"That's it," he whispered, "Sing for me." As he reached deeper, his thrusts became more urgent, and her moans became louder.

In the throes of passion, as she teetered on the edge of ecstasy, he sank his teeth into her neck. The fusion of pain and pleasure surged through her, propelling her into a realm of sensation she had never known. Amaara's voice erupted into a cry of both pain and euphoria, the boundaries between the two becoming beautifully blurred. Waves of sensations cascaded over her, threatened to wash her consciousness away.

He drank from her deeply, drawing her life force into him, and in response, the universe seemed to explode within her. The stars themselves danced in her vision as the rapture coursed through her veins, igniting every nerve ending. Her body quivered, the cascading pleasure overwhelmed her senses, until she was sure she would fracture into a million sparks of pure sensation. Soon, the intensity reached its crescendo, a crescendo that hung suspended for the briefest moment that felt like eternity before she plunged over the edge into an abyss of exhilaration, surrendering completely.

Astarion finally let go of his grip around Amaara's neck, a craving had been sated. The young wizard had already started to slip into and out of consciousness while he continued thrusting until he released into her limp body.

#bg3 fanart #astarion fanart #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion x mc #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction #I mean vampires don't really have sex drive #Raphael's dialogue about cazador confirms that #but maybe spawns are different?#clip studio paint #I hail from silverymoon #my oc character #Amaara Ashvale #baldurs gate 3

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: The Mirror Image

Pov my little fanfiction: Astarion x Amaara (my human wizard Tav). At last, some fluff, even if he is not quite there yet.

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Amaara approached Astarion's tent and paused, her eyes drawn to his back as he gazed into a small mirror. Sensing her presence, he asked without turning, "See something you like?"

Flustered at being caught staring, she stammered, "How did you…"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you." he said wryly.

"Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?" Amaara asked gently.

He turned to her, bitterness in his voice. "Preening in the looking glass? petty vanity? Of course I miss it." His tone gained an edge as he went on. "I've never even seen this face, not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

"What color were they before?" Curiosity was piqued. She had trouble picturing him with any but his striking red gaze. Maybe he had elf-spring colored eyes just like herself?

"I…I don't know." He looked down, shocked by the fact, pain flickered across his features, "I can't remember." Angrily he flung the mirror away. "My face is just some dark shape from my past. Another thing I've lost"

Seeing his anguish, Amaara's heart ached for him. She sensed the sadness and frustration he felt now that this simple mundane act of seeing oneself is denied to him. She could see that this is more than about petty vanity - he felt a sense of loss - of his old mortal self and identity that he can no longer see or recall clearly. She offered a reassuring smile. "For what it's worth, I find you have a very fine face, with piercing eyes and a dangerous smile. You fear this face a stranger's, but in my eyes, it is the beautiful visage of one who persevered." A blush colored her cheeks. "I could conjure a figment of you if you wish?"

Surprised, Astarion nodded. With a graceful gesture, Amaara conjured a mirror image of him. He examined it intensely, as if struggling to recognize himself. Slowly, he reached out a hand to the illusion, not quite touching it. For a moment, raw vulnerability crossed his face.

"You have not changed as much as you fear," Amaara said gently in Elvish, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance, "am I right?" Stepping closer, she planted a gentle kiss on the illusion's cheek. "I have the most beautiful man in the realms all to myself." Her smile grew even brighter as she saw him slowly relaxing, "I am the luckiest girl on Faerûn."

The tension in Astarion's frame eased as Amaara regarded the illusion fondly, her affection palpable. Though the figment was but a spell, it had stirred long dormant memories within him. Amaara's gentle reassurance was enough to banish the bitter shadows of all he had lost, if temporarily.

Her hopeful gaze seemed to see past his walls to hidden depths he wished kept concealed. But for this moment, he let down his guard and simply enjoyed her soothing presence.

#clip studio paint #astarion fanart #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanart #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x mc #I hail from Silverymoon #my oc stuff #Amaara Ashvale #this is my favorite scene out of the entire game #But thinking back is this truly a glimpse of his vulnerability #Or just his crafty way to win sympathy and compassion?#It's kinda silly tho Vampires have no reflection shouldn't you see an empty outfit reflected in the mirror?#bg3

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: The Clash

Pov my little fanfiction: Astarion x Amaara (my wizard Tav). Angst I guess? This one is not a particular in-game scene, but the general feeling of Act II. The battles became hard, the atmosphere depressing, I was on edge the entire time while in the shadow cursed land. My Amaara was just a nudge away from flipping out. Also, while Dark Urge was like a person that the companions care about, Tav was more like a "Tool And Vessel". They'd dump their problems and requests on her without even asking, "Hey, how are you holding up?"

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Amaara sat alone in her tent, absently cradling herself for comfort. She had skipped dinner, the day's events roiling in her mind. First Astarion had learned the sinister truth behind his scar, a revelation that shook them both. Then Arabella's parents were discovered murdered, despite Amaara's promises to save them. The girl's devastated screams and refusal of any consolation would haunt Amaara's dreams. She should have protected them. Should have been wiser, stronger, quicker. But she failed.

The impenetrable shadow curse loomed over the camp, an almost physical pressure exerted on Amaara. She can scarcely breathe. She sat, on the verge of tears, while everyone else tended to their own troubles. No one had even noticed her missing from the campfire tonight. Not that she blamed them; the quests pressed heavily on all. But a small voice inside still whimpered that she didn't matter.

With a shuddering sigh, Amaara pulled a blanket tight around herself. She wished it were Astarion's arms instead. This was one of those nights she would give anything just to lay her head on his shoulder and let him soothe her fears away.

But no, her thoughts drifted to him, remembering the first night they spent together. It was her very first time and he made it the single greatest experience in her life. She was completely lost in him and truly thought their souls bonded that night.

However, the second time was different. Her eagerness was clouded by doubts. She was also armed with new knowledge from Gale's books. She paid more attention to him that time, wishing to bring him pleasure, mend the bond they have. What she observed shattered all her hopes. His eyes were distant, withholding a hint of disgust and loathe. She didn't know what she did wrong, all she knew was the hurt in her heart and even more doubts in her mind. She didn't say or do anything though, still clung to him.

When they finally arrived at the shadow cursed land, there was no time to have a discussion because everything was thrown at her all at once. She could not seek comfort from him, for she didn't even know what his true intention was.

Suddenly Amaara heard soft footsteps outside her tent. Astarion popped his head in, giving his usual roguish smile. "Bad day?"

"The worst," she murmured. Carefully she allowed a tiny warmth kindled in her chest at the sight of him.

"I heard the girl yelling all the way across camp. This is what you get for helping every sob story that comes along."

Amaara sighed. "I had to try. I just wish I'd been quicker."

"Don't trouble yourself with every stranger's burden. You can't carry the world on your shoulders." Astarion's eyes glinted. "Although…we could have saved them if we had more power."

Amaara shook her head. "I did my best. Gave it my all."

"Did you?" Astarion pressed. "You refused to use the tadpole. But that was said and done. Now think - if I ascend in Cazador's place, we'll have might beyond imagining! You could help whoever you wished."

Amaara's eyes widened. Her heart turned to ice. He wasn't here to comfort her after all, "Don't." She snapped, then softened her tone, "please, not now, not today. We will discuss this some other time."

"Such innocence," he chuckled. "You know nothing of the choices survival forces upon us." His eyes flashed with cold ambition. "The power is there for the taking, if you'd help me grasp it. "

"There will always be a better way than violating our principles!" Amaara shot back, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.

Astarion stepped closer, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "YOUR principles. They make you weak when ruthlessness is required. You couldn't even help a simple peasant girl."

His words had weaponized her own guilt and doubts, leaving her consumed by grief. "How can you even consider the profane ascension, when you know what it entails? You said you just wanted to be rid of your old master, you didn't even want to be a true Vampire. what changed?" Anger started to set in, for his lack of consideration of her emotions. Harsh words lashed out, firm and curt, " NO, I won't allow it. "

"YOU WON’T ALLOW IT?" He bit down on every word as if to chew them into pieces. Rage erupted inside him and his vision went red, "When I was being flayed, you danced carefree. When I was seducing victims to their death against my will, you shared kisses with your bard boy on the Moonbridge. While I endured unimaginable torments, you spent your youth immersed in books and childish romance. you are nothing but a little mageling with no experience of the evil in the world, and your naïvety will be our undoing." Astarion's words were soaked in venom, "Powers that could help us lie within easy grasp, yet you cling to frail morality, chaining me with it too. "

He imitated Amaara's voice in a mocking way, "Astarion, don't bite thinking creatures. Astarion, don't kill the monster hunter. Astarion, don't use the tadpole's power, Astarion, don't ascend and be truly free." He sneered.

"Does restricting me give you purpose? Do you seek to become my new master? After all I endured…you presume to command me?" He spat, "Too bad, you do not dictate my fate. when the time comes, it is not your decision to make."

Astarion's cruel condemnation cut to Amaara's core. As fury boiled up inside her, the last thread of restraint snapped. "How dare you!" she shrieked, voice shaking with rage. "You know nothing of my life, yet boldly presume to judge me!"

"I may be young, but I've seen darkness across Faerûn that you in your cage could scarcely dream of." Amaara blazed, fury and pain etched on her face.

"You think I don't comprehend evil? I fought in wars, trudged through the wreckage left by those drunk on power. Held the hands of the dying and broken. Heard the screams of children orphaned, peasants crushed beneath the heels of tyrants! The Drows sought power, and drove the War of Silver Marches. The Ogres sought power, and led the siege on Silverymoon. My home in rubbles, my parents slaughtered before my eyes!"

She trembled with rage and grief. "And now mind flayers spread madness, and I'm cursed with their filth in my head! Every time someone grasps for might, I lose something precious!"

Amaara's shoulders slumped in defeat. "So do not lecture me about power's lure or necessity. I crave power too. If I were stronger, perhaps I could have saved my parents, kept my friends safe. I toil endlessly to hone my skills, master new spells, learn new recipes, anything to gain control." She lifted her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "But never at the cost of my soul."

"I offer you only compassion, yet you twist it into chains! Am I your enemy just for wishing you to retain your humanity?" Amaara wrapped her arms around herself, believing this is the source of their problem and the origin of his contempt. To her dismay, this is something unresolvable.

She felt utterly broken inside. "So choose your path, take your power, rule over ashes and bones. Lose yourself fully. It matters not, for I will have lost all I hold dear anyway. It would just be one more beloved thing sacrificed at ambition's altar. no big deal. I'm used to that by now."

Astarion stood there, his own anger overshadowed by the torrent of emotions that Amaara's words had stirred within him. Her confession had caught him off guard, and for a brief, bewildering moment, he felt a pulse of something he hadn't expected. But his well-practiced instincts to deflect kicked in, and he quickly composed himself.

"I do apologize, darling," he said, his voice carrying an unusual softness. "I didn't know. I suppose we're all products of our past, and you've certainly had your share of trials."

Astarion took a step closer, let out a small laugh "It was a bad choice of timing, I admit. In my eagerness after learning about the ritual, I got way ahead of myself. We don't even know if it can be done or not. We're practically bickering over theoretical situations. Silly of me, really."

His voice softened further, a familiar seductive tone seeping out. "Now, my little pet, would you like me to stay? I'll make it up to you, promise."

Amaara blinked, a mixture of anger and bewilderment stopping all her tears. The absurdity of his offer slammed into her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

"Get out," she finally said, her voice carrying the weight of her exasperation and disbelief.

"Sweet dreams." And with that, he turned and slipped away.

"It's over," she whispered, the bitter truth settling in. Perhaps there had never been anything real between them at all.

The weight of it all pressed down relentlessly until she buried her face in the bedroll, sobs wracking her body. Oblivion seemed the only appeal now, far removed from this anguish. I should have perished alongside my parents, she bitterly thought, sparing myself this grim future.

The group's fate beckoned in the darkest corners of her mind. What purpose did she have to go on? To keep fighting? When all the efforts were in vain and all that awaited was more pain at the hands of those she foolishly dared to trust.

That night, sleep evaded Amaara for hours. When it finally came, it brought troubling dreams. She found herself surrounded by a swarm of mind flayers, their tentacles grasping, a loud murmur of "Join us" seemed to come from all around her, then the ground collapsed under her feet.

Amaara fell screaming into darkness. She landed with a painful thud next to young Arabella. Tears streamed down her face. "You promised to save them! You promised!" she wailed, before blinking away. In her place, Halsin appeared out of thin air, who glared accusingly. "The curse remains. Are you even trying to aid me?"

Before she could respond, Halsin vanished. Wyll appeared next, panic in his eyes. "You must hurry! My father's life depends on it!" He too disappeared in a wisp.

After Wyll vanished, Amaara wandered alone through the shifting dark landscape, disoriented and afraid. Suddenly she spotted Karlach's broad form standing nearby, back turned.

Hope bloomed in Amaara's chest. "Karlach!" she called out, hurrying toward her friend, desperate for an anchor amidst the nightmare.

Slowly, Karlach turned to face her. But as she did, flames erupted across her body, consuming her. Amaara cried out in horror as Karlach melted away right before her eyes.

Reeling, Amaara staggered back, only to hear Gale's voice behind her, "goodbye, my friend." She whipped around.

Gale clutched his chest in agony. "This is my fate." He gave her a pained smile, with that Gale exploded in front of her with a force that sent her falling once more.

As Amaara plunged into darkness, she saw Shadowheart drifting alongside her, floating limply.

"Shadowheart!" Amaara cried out, grabbing for the cleric's hand.

But Shadowheart only gazed back blankly, no recognition in her eyes. Sinister shadowy hands materialized, seizing the helpless cleric and dragging her down into the abyss.

Amaara screamed and tried to hold on, but Shadowheart slipped away into the shadows' embrace. Amaara could only watch helplessly as her companion vanished, the void widening between them.

At last Amaara managed to land. As she struggled to get on her feet, a hand shoved her back to the ground. She tried to rise but froze at the sight of Astarion looming over her. He wore a sinister smile, "on your knees, darling," He commanded, fangs bared and eyes full of malevolent hunger. He descended upon her exposed neck as she screamed…

Amaara awoke, her throat raw from screaming Astarion's name, and her body drenched in a cold sweat. The remnants of her nightmare still held her in a tight grip, refusing to let go. As her ragged breaths echoed in the darkness, she felt Astarion rushing towards her, and she recoiled instinctively.

The companions had been roused by her cries, and they gathered around her tent, concern etched across their faces. Some of them reached out to offer comfort, but she flinched away from their touch, her eyes wild and desperate as they scanned the faces before her.

Amidst the chaos, Astarion's concerned voice cut through. "Amaara, what's wrong?" He moved toward her, only to be met with a forceful shove and a bolt of magic missile straight to the gut.

Staggering back, Astarion looked at her with bewilderment and alarm. He had never seen sweet, patient Amaara lash out so violently, especially toward him. Her usually calm demeanor was now overtaken by distress he didn't understand.

Before anyone could make sense of the situation, Amaara stumbled out of the tent, right into Lae'zel, clutching at the gith's tunic as if it were her lifeline. Lae'zel's eyes widened in surprise, yet she reacted with an unexpected gesture.

Slowly, deliberately, Lae'zel put one arm around the distressed wizard, while her other arm extended in a protective barrier, blocking Astarion's attempt to approach. Though her posture remained rigid and defensive, her singular embrace became a shield for Amaara.

Halsin's voice carried a sage wisdom as he addressed the group. "She had a nightmare, let's give her the space to collect herself."

Lae'zel met Astarion's incredulous stare with an unyielding glare. She then turned, guided the broken down wizard to her own tent, away from everyone else.

As the rest of the party scattered, Astarion stayed, completely dumbfounded. His determination to follow Amaara was halted by a firm grip on his elbow. His body tensed as he instinctively pulled away, his voice laced with an edge of desperation, "DON'T. TOUCH. ME." It was Gale who had caught him, trying to prevent his impulsive actions. Astarion struggled against Gale's grip, his frustration and anger evident in his eyes.

In the midst of their struggle, Gale cast a "Hold Person" spell on Astarion.

"Let go of me!" Astarion's voice seethed with impotent fury. Gale positioned himself in front of Astarion, blocking his line of sight to Amaara. "You need to collect yourself first," Gale stated firmly. "And I need to have a word with you."

Astarion's glare intensified, his lips curling in a snarl.

"Look at you - a feral animal. You'll only frighten Amaara more in this state," Gale admonished with a weary sigh.

Astarion glared venomously but slowly relaxed his aggressive posture under Gale's stern gaze.

"Congratulations, Astarion. You've accomplished the feat of enraging our gentle Amaara," Gale remarked, tone laced with sarcasm. "Keep it up, and one of us may gladly take your place."

Astarion let out a bitter laugh. "I'm sure you're all just waiting for that opportunity."

Gale's expression turned solemn. "I don't know what twisted game you're playing. But understand this - Amaara has options, far better ones than a deceitful leech like you."

Astarion's retorted defensively, "Hahaha, yes, a ticking time bomb, a murderous gith, and a druid who's more bear than man? Don't make me laugh. Amaara is mine."

Gale's gaze held steady, his words piercing through Astarion's façade, "Go on, Astarion. What is she to you?"

Caught off guard, Astarion faltered. "She's my…" He was at a loss for words, struggling to define the complex emotions that swirled within him.

"I thought so," Gale's voice softened. "For her sake, I hope you can find the answer to that question before it's too late." With a wave of hand, Gale lifted the spell before he turned and walked away.

Astarion stood there, his thoughts a tangled mess. Amaara's reaction had struck him to his core. She had never recoiled from his touch like that before, never met him with physical aggression. He replayed the events of the evening in his mind, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. What had his intention been when he sought her out earlier? He recalled that it had been a pretty good day for him - finally learning about the truth behind his scars and the battles had not taken too great a toll on him. He had been in a good mood since Amaara promised to help him against Cazador. He was hoping to have a deeper discussion about the new information with her, and maybe offer some comfort for the disheartened little heroine.

And then it all unraveled. But how? What had he said when his temper had gotten the best of him? He struggled to remember the exact words that had led to their heated argument. But that hardly matters now, right?

The notion of losing Amaara utterly terrified Astarion. He had believed her to be hopelessly enthralled - whatever he did or said to her would have no consequences, she would always come back to him like a kicked puppy. But now doubt plagued him. Was she truly so spellbound? Or had he pushed her too far this time?

In desperation he scrambled for ways to regain control, to mend the cracks in her devotion. But even that impulse gave him pause.

Because the more he pondered, the clearer a startling truth became - it was not merely her compliance and thrall he feared losing, but her. For so long he had seen her as merely someone to manipulate and seduce. Yet now, the threat of her absence stirred a different emotion entirely. Not just wounded pride at losing a plaything, but the ache of something far more profound slipping away.

The gentle soul had offered him everything - compassion, patience, love freely given. At first she was just an amusement to him, a powerful wizard reduced to a toy. But she had tried in her own way to connect to him as a person.

He remembered the sweet taste of her blood, a gift freely given, and accepted without judgment.

He remembered the way she had looked at him when she had shared the beauty of her own world with him - her room she had conjured, the view of the Moonbridge. He now realized it was a gesture meant to forge a connection, her way of opening up and letting him in.

He remembered her using a figment illusion to show him his reflection when he had been wallowing in self-pity; He thought back on her shy smile, the kiss she planted so delicately on his conjured image. He now realized it was her creative way to show affection because she had noticed his adversary to touch.

He remembered when she carefully traced his scars, Remembered her relentless determination as she had spent the entire night trying to piece together the infernal letters. The disappointment that had clouded her expression when her efforts had yielded no results.

He remembered her words, "Of course I am with you," when she aided him against the Orthon - she had given, and asked nothing in return.

He remembered her bright-eyed smile and adoring gaze. A gaze unlike those he encountered before. It had held no lust, no violation. It was filled with simple admiration and joy.

He felt seen, wanted… even loved.

Never in life or unlife had he been shown such empathy and care without ulterior motives. Never in life or unlife had he asked for help and met with help, asked for compassion and met with compassion, asked for indulgence and met with indulgence.

He didn't care

No.

He thought he didn't care.

NO.

He didn't know he cared.

He felt like an idiot now. How stupid had he been? He had messed it all up. He had pushed her away, misread her intentions, and allowed his insecurities to tarnish the connection she tried so hard to build.

Now, the very idea of her slipping away made his blood turn into ice. What they had shared had been real, and he finally realized how much light she had brought into his bleak existence. Light he would give anything to get back, if only he knew how.

#young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes #Problem between good Tav and Astarion was more than his manipulation #dating someone with different value is very hard #While Amaara is hurt Astarion is equally frustrated #bg3 fanart #astarion #astarion fanart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfic #astarion x mc #I Hail from Silverymoon #my oc stuff #Amaara Ashvale #procreate

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail From Silverymoon: The Oath

Well, we all know what this is. The scene was so powerful I was crying even when it was bugged. I was in a foul mood days after played this. There was just so little we could do for our boy.

Astarion X Amaara (my wizard Tav)

__________________________

With Cazador defeated and kneeling before them, Astarion could finally perform the ritual to ascend. His eyes pleading, and mania etched into his features. "Help me claim the power that is my right!" he implored, his voice quivering. "Don't forsake me now, not when we're so close..."

Amaara stood resolute, "If you cross this line, there is no return," she warned, her voice filled with anguish. "Seven thousand souls sacrificed…there will be no atonement."

Astarion faltered, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. But he clung stubbornly to his ambition, his voice cracking with vulnerability. "With this, I will be truly, completely free. I won't need to rely on the parasite to walk under the sun, and no one will be able to control me," he pleaded, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "I will be able to truly feel you as a man, and enjoy the taste of your favorite dish. I will have the strength to shield you from all harm, provide everything you deserve!" He grasped her hands tightly, eyes wild. " Isn't this what you want for me, for us?"

Tears welled up in Amaara's eyes, her voice breaking as she responded, "Not like this." She reached out to touch his cheek, her fingers trembling against his skin. "This will not be you, but a monster wearing your face. The Astarion I love will be lost," she whispered, her voice filled with heartbreak. "The hope of ever restoring you to life, however slim, will be gone. And I will never know the true color of your eyes."

Their gazes locked in wordless turmoil. Amaara saw the warring desperation and devastation in Astarion's eyes. A broken soul balanced on the razor edge between salvation and damnation.

"You need no dark powers. You have strength enough within. And we will walk together in the darkness if we must.” Sensing the lust for power tugging on his heart, Amaara put her fist to her heart and raised her other hand desperately, “I, Amaara Ashvale of Silverymoon, do hereby solemnly vow, before the watching gods:

I shall not rest until a means is found to restore my beloved, Astarion Ancunín’s life. No lore shall go unread, no stone left unturned, no journey unfinished, for as long as breath and magic remain in me.

Through scorching deserts, frigid peaks, lands ravaged and lands lost shall I travel, never ceasing my quest. Across realms shall my pursuit carry me - from streets of Waterdeep to the glades of Silverymoon, from the heart of the City of Doors to the top of Mount Celestia itself.

No barrier will stand before my resolve to undo this curse you bear. By my blood, my magic, my very soul do I bind myself to deliverance of your life. This vow, more steadfast than stone or steel, I make to you freely, without reservation or regret.

So hear me now in your hour of tribulation. Take my hand, set aside primal ambition, and trust in destiny and devotion - I will help you reclaim what was so cruelly stolen. This I pledge with all that I am.”

Astarion's body shook, overcome with emotion as Amaara's solemn vow washed over him. For endless nights, he had craved the power before him to reclaim control of his fate. Yet her words unlocked something deeper - a hope long buried under scars of trauma.

"No more looking back," he rasped, then he turned to Cazador, drawing his blade.

With each frenzied stab, Astarion felt centuries of twisted abuse and stolen innocence pouring out. Cazador would never dictate his unlife again. He was finally, agonizingly free.

The trauma of endless torture at his sire's hands now manifested in uncontrolled rage. Though Cazador lay inert, Astarion continued driving his blade down ferociously, as if trying to obliterate the memories themselves.

Cazador had sadistically stripped away his dignity, his autonomy, his very identity. The violations were endless, the pain unfathomable. No matter how many times his blade struck home, the wounds upon Astarion's soul could not be expunged.

Astarion's rage melted into racking sobs. He wailed at the enormity of what had been done to him, what had been taken that could never be reclaimed.

He was an empty vessel, programmed only to serve his tormentor's cruel appetites. And now that purpose had been obliterated along with Cazador himself.

So Astarion wept bitterly over the broken shards of the man he might have been. His dreams, his potential, his light - all ruthlessly squandered. This hollow shell was all that remained.

The lacerations ran deeper than could ever heal. But perhaps in time, they could scar over, if never mend fully. On this ravaged ground, he might yet rebuild, slowly and agonizingly, something resembling a life of his own making. But for now, the only balm was blood, vengeance, and tears.

Amaara's heart bled seeing Astarion collapsed in anguish beside Cazador's broken body. Every sob felt like a lash upon her own soul. She ached to ease his suffering, but hesitated to intrude upon such naked vulnerability.

Slowly, giving him space, she moved to kneel on the blood-stained floor nearby. Close enough for him to sense her supportive presence, but far enough to avoid crowding his raw grief.

Silent tears ran down Amaara's own cheeks as the enormity of Astarion's trauma truly sank in. Her fury at Cazador's cruelty blazed anew. Her hand twitched instinctively, longing to soothe him, before stopping short. The touch of another might yet feel violating when emotions ran so raw. Every fiber of her being wanted to embrace Astarion fiercely, to promise him he was forever safe now.

But she remained still, letting this catharsis run its course. A light shining softly through darkness, awaiting the moment he was ready to reconnect and begin healing. And when Astarion surfaced from the storm's eye, she would be there. She would remain steadfast, for as long as it took, until he was made whole again.

#'Cause all of me Loves all of you #bg3 fanart #astarion #astarion fanart #astarion fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x mc #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #I Hail From Silverymoon #my oc stuff #amaara ashvale

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: The party night

POV my little fanfic. Astarion X Amaara(my wizard Tav). Seriously though, who didn't see through his theatrics? It was pretty bad the first couple of hours into the game. I wanted to smack him and ask him to talk normal.

__________________________

The Tug of Influence

Astarion reveled in the satisfaction of his successful influence over Amaara. After almost two centuries, he finally had control over something. It had become a game for him, a way to get what he desired with seemingly minimal effort. He had grown comfortable in this dynamic, his requests and desires granted without much resistance. Yet, he knew that the time had come to aim for something more substantial, something that would truly solidify his hold over her thoughts.

"We can unlock immense abilities if we embrace the tadpole's power," Astarion's words flowed smoothly, a silver-tongued promise hanging in the air. "Imagine how powerful we could become, side by side."

Amaara's expression remained uncertain, a reflection of the internal battle waging within her. "Power without wisdom is perilous. The risks are too great, too unknown. I do not want to venture into something I know nothing about. It can corrupt us, change us in ways we can't anticipate."

"Or," Astarion leaned in closer, his voice dripping with seduction, "it may secure our survival. Don't you want a future with me? Imagine what we could overcome together."

Amaara turned away, a mixture of frustration and concern etching her features. "I've studied forces beyond our control. They always turn on those who wield them."

Astarion's patience was wearing thin, the careful façade of tenderness starting to crack. He reached out and turned her chin to face him, his eyes locking onto hers. "You cling to dusty books and denial. We must use everything at our disposal, especially when faced with the unknown."

"Not when it may cost our body and soul," Amaara's voice held a firm resolve, her gaze unwavering.

A flash of frustration flickered in Astarion's eyes as her words echoed in his ears. He had assumed she was firmly within his grasp, malleable to his will.

"If you won't embrace strength, then stand aside. I'll claim this power myself," he declared.

"I cannot let you take such a risk!" Amaara immediately countered

Astarion contained his surprise at her quick refusal, though it rattled his perception of control over her. The familiar feeling of being powerless - as he had been for two centuries under Cazador - came crashing back, filling him with equal parts of fear and rage.

"Have it your way then," he retorted, all pretense of charm gone. His voice now dripped with unveiled venom, his true impatient nature exposed. "Keep standing between me and what I want, and I will have to go through you."

Amaara's eyes widened, taken aback by the intensity of his words. The venomous tone of his threat cut through her, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

As her pained expression met his gaze, a pang of regret shot through Astarion's fear-fueled mind. His haste and frustration had gotten the better of him, and he realized the gravity of his words. Seducing Amaara required subtlety and finesse, a gradual erosion of her defenses over time. He had grown too comfortable in their dynamic and had acted recklessly, potentially undoing the progress he had made in days of careful effort. He may have overplayed his hand in this instance, but he was determined to regain control of the intricate dance he had been leading.

_______________________

The party night

After the argument last time about tadpole power. Astarion went on like nothing had happened. Amaara won't deny that doubt started to plague her mind. She reflected and regrouped, clung to the memory of the tenderer exchanges. She was well aware of Astarion's struggles, the demons that haunted his past and cast shadows over his present. His scars run deep, etched into his very being, and she felt a profound ache to be a balm to his wounds. So she carried on as if their rift didn't exist, welcoming him with warm gazes - though her smile never reached its former radiance, betraying her heavy doubts.

Astarion smiled as Amaara walked towards him in the chaos of merriment, "Here is my little treat with her cheeks all flushed. You will come to my bed tonight, won't you?"

Amaara was caught off guard, "I... I'll consider it."

Astarion was actually expecting a consent with eagerness, but it's not a no either. He said, "I see, you need some enticing. How about this? All these accolades from the Tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips."

Amaara turned bright red, "Please, not so loud, they'll hear you..." She glanced around nervously but can't suppress a tiny smile, "Your name does sound rather lovely."

Astarion hid a chuckle and continued, "every part of your perfect body whispers temptation - it's as if the Gods made you just to ruin me."

Amaara was both flustered and flattered, "I...you flatter me too much. I'm no celestial beauty."

Astarion whispered, "I can go on all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want?"

Amaara had a serious expression, looking up at him, "I enjoy our conversations too...learning more about you."

Astarion was very amused by her innocent response and he said, "How about if I said these little words...Everyone's favorite...I love you."

Amaara's eyes widened, her heart racing. She searched Astarion's face earnestly, daring to hope it was true. But her keen intellect pierced through the pretty lie.

Her shoulders slumped imperceptibly with disappointment and renewed uncertainty. Yet she managed a small, bittersweet smile to mask the pang in her heart.

"It's alright, you needn't say such things just to please me," she said softly, turning away.

Those three little words - "I love you" - had been tossed her way so freely in the past by those who never truly meant it. How she longed to hear them spoken with genuine intention. She would give anything to have Astarion be the first to utter them sincerely, and then she could finally reply in kind, with all her heart.

Astarion noticed the glimmer of disappointment and sadness in Amaara's eyes before she turned away. He paused, unsure why his failure to convince her stung. This was merely a game to him...wasn't it?

Quickly regaining his nonchalant composure, he gently turned her chin back towards him. "Come now, why the gloom? You know you alone hold my fascination," he purred gently.

Letting his thumb caress her cheek, he gave a roguish smile. "There will be time enough for pretty vows and labels later, when the dust has settled."

He leaned in, voice dropping lower. "For now, we have each other for more pleasurable pursuits, do we not?" He brushed his lips temptingly close to hers, hoping to dismiss her melancholy and reestablish his thrall.

Yet despite succeeding in lighting her cheeks with a blush, the lingering shadow in Amaara's eyes gave him pause. An unfamiliar discomfort stirred in his chest. But he shrugged it off - such trifles were below him.

For now, it was enough that he still commanded her desire. The rest was meaningless. Wasn't it?

His honeyed words still managed to sway her. The temptation of his allure and the familiarity of his intimacy always pulled her back into his orbit. As they stole away together again after the party, her initial hesitation was gradually overridden by frail hope that they could strengthen a weakened bond.

The first night they shared, Amaara was too engrossed in her own embarrassment, inexperience, and overwhelmed by brand new sensations. But as they came together this time, Amaara's senses were more attuned, her heart weighed down by a mix of uncertainty and determination. She focused on Astarion, observing him closely. Beneath his seductive façade she sensed not affection, but repulsion and scorn she could not understand.

Amaara felt utterly lost. She had opened herself to him fully, only to find contempt rather than care. She hid her welling tears and retreated in silence after the deed, unable to process why he would shower her with sweet words yet harbor such bile towards her. He didn't enjoy their intimacy, it's plain as day. It felt like every fiber of his being urged him to escape as he moved inside her. she had felt like an unwelcome presence in his world. The contradiction between his words of admiration and the coldness she sensed gnawed at her, leaving her wounded.

Her thoughts briefly drifted to her previous romance. The golden haired half-elf with the tender smile and voice of an aasimar. She remembered the kiss they shared on the moonbridge, the sweet words he whispered. Didn't she think his eyes were filled with the most sincere adoration until she saw him in another nobleman's arms?

Realization dawning along with a profound sadness. She had allowed herself to be thoroughly deceived once more.

It doesn't matter, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, just enjoy his performance, he's a skilled lover. Keep him around for pleasure. Just keep your heart shielded from the inevitable pain. The suddenness of her inner monologue startled Amaara. It was a stark reminder that she was hopelessly in love with Astarion. Her heart yearned for him, craved his presence, and any excuse to be near him seemed reasonable, even if it meant compromising her own feelings. But her logical mind, her better judgment, screamed at her to recognize the facts: Keeping her emotions aloof, detached from the whirlwind of attraction and affection, would be far easier said than done. The best course of action, her mind reasoned, was to walk away right now. She recognized how right it was, but her heart rebelled against the mere thought of losing him.

#this is my in game experience #first night we argue then next night he propositions me #my first playthrough was rough with bugs and Astarion was so inconsistent #my durge playthough was a lot better gale was inconsistent this time #bg3 fanart #astarion #astarion fanart #clip studio paint #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 oc #astarion x mc #my oc stuff #I Hail from Silverymoon #Amaara Ashvale

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail From Silverymoon: The Sway

Pov My little Fanfiction Astarion X Amaara Ashvale (My Wizard Tav)

Your wish is my command

It was obvious to everyone Amaara was smitten with Astarion. Just look at that dreamy smile that graced her lips and that adoring gaze she often cast his way! Shadowheart had even commented that their affection was becoming sickening.

Initially, Astarion had only seduced Amaara as a matter of self-preservation. He sought to win over a useful ally against potential threats. But he soon became aware of just how thoroughly the young mage had fallen for his charms. He decided to see what he could make her do, now that she regarded him with such trusting, enamored eyes...

One night as Amaara and Gale tallied inventory, the vampire spawn strolled up.

"Darling, the vendor in the grove has this exquisite enchanted leather armor. I've been thinking that it might suit me better. My current attire is too flashy for effective stealth, you see." he purred, "Could we get them tomorrow?"

Amaara looked up from her task, her face lighting up with that familiar smile. "Alright, I'll make sure to get it for you tomorrow."

He continued, letting a hint of needfulness enter his voice, "And there's also an enchanted dagger available. With it, I could offer you an even greater level of protection."

Amaara's response was almost immediate, her dedication unwavering. "What else do you require? Tomorrow, we'll head over and get everything you need."

Gale frowned, his disapproval evident in his voice. "Amaara, we can't simply spend all our coins like that. We must allocate enough for essential supplies."

"I'll go out to gather herbs right now. I'll craft some potions tonight and barter with Arron tomorrow," Amaara assured him, “Don't worry, Gale. I've already set aside ample coins to secure your next magic artifact. You'll be taken care of."

With that, she swiftly departed from the camp. The two men were left alone, and Astarion chuckled, "For someone with good intentions, she certainly knows how to put you in your place."

Gale felt a surge of frustration, a feeling akin to a slap in the face. He knew that his need for magical items often consumed a significant portion of the party's resources.

He replied dryly, "I only want prudent use of our limited funds."

"Of course, forgive my thoughtlessness," Astarion said smoothly. But his smug smile made Gale's blood boil.

Gale opened his mouth for a scathing retort, but caught himself. Astarion awaited his reaction eagerly, but Gale simply gave a thin smile. "If acquiring trinkets keeps you occupied, far be it from me to intervene."

With that, he smoothly returned to his task, denying Astarion the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. After all, Astarion is the last person on Faerûn he wants to engage in a conversation with.

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The Sway

As the party's journey unfolded, they stumbled upon a mesmerizing dark amethyst during one of their explorations. Amaara's keen intellect kicked into gear as she examined the gem, a glint of realization shining in her eyes. She declared, "This is it. This is the key that can unlock the Necromancy of Thay."

A spark of intrigue lit up Astarion's gaze at her words. Observing the glimmer of hesitation in Amaara's eyes, he saw a chance to bend her will to his desires once more. He turned to her, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Would you be so kind as to let me have that book, darling?"

Amaara's fingers hovered uncertainly over the dark tome, an uneasiness settling in her chest. The ominous aura that clung to the book made her instincts recoil, a caution born of a lifetime of scholarly pursuits and magical studies. "I don't know...necromantic knowledge can be dangerous."

"I just wanted an edge over Cazador." Astarion purred, nuzzling her neck. "To keep myself safe, to keep you safe."

His touch made her shiver with longing, but apprehension lingered. "Perhaps it would be safer if Gale simply absorbed it..."

"Come now. Think of what knowledge could be gained from it," he cajoled, appealing to her scholarly side. His voice was a silky temptation that stirred something within her. "Imagine the secrets it holds, just waiting to be unveiled. I promise to tread carefully." he stroked her arm and met her eyes beseechingly.

Try as she might, Amaara found herself unable to resist when he gazed at her like that. "Alright, fine. But promise me you'll be careful, Astarion. Necromancy is dangerous, but it's not uncontrollable. I'll be watching over you." she conceded.

Astarion's lips curved into a satisfied smile, a silent triumph dancing in his gaze. He extended his hand, the anticipation evident in his posture. "You have my word, my dear. I'll handle it with the utmost care. You'll see."

And so, with the dark tome and the weight of his unspoken intentions, Astarion gained yet another victory.

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Murmurs of Discontent

Amaara accompanied Astarion on his nightly hunt one night. The flickering campfire cast a warm yet eerie glow upon the gathering of rest of the companions, their faces shadowed as they huddled together in quiet conversation. Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae'zel formed a circle, their shared unease drawing them together.

"Do you all see this? The way he's able to influence her decisions with such ease? It's as if she's... under his spell." Gale's brow furrowed.

Shadowheart's lips pressed into a thin line as she spoke, her voice edged with frustration. "We've seen the way she looks at him, as if he's the center of her world. It's sickening, really."

"Can't blame her for indulging in a bad boy," Karlach grinned and winked.

Wyll said. "True, but Astarion is not oblivious to this power he wields over her. He uses his influence to his advantage, and who's to say where that might lead us?"

Karlach's playful expression vanished. She slammed a fist into her palm. "Right then. it's time I had a little chat with that parasite, set him straight."

"Maybe something more subtle?" Gale suggested quickly. "Threatening him directly could make things worse."

Lae'zel finally spoke up after everyone voiced their concern. Her voice has a determined edge. "Amaara is no fool. The sways you worried about so far are over inconsequential decisions. She is not someone to be easily manipulated. Let's not underestimate her. We should wait and observe. If it becomes too out of control, simply dispose of him."

Lae'zel's words gave them pause. Perhaps they had underestimated Amaara's will. They exchanged glances between themselves. It is a delicate matter after all. For now, they will keep a watchful eye and do nothing more.

#astarion #astarion fanart #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x mc #astarion fanfiction #I Hail From Silverymoon #Amaara Ashvale #clip studio paint #My star field character has been sitting there waiting for me for 2 weeks now #baldurs gate 3

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: The Confession

Pov my little fanfic: Astarion x Amaara (my wizard Tav). Fellow Tavs gave me feedback on how mean my Astarion was. hahaha. Well, in this part he became pretty pathetic. These stories were drafted during my first playthrough so the mood of it really reflected how I perceived the game. And damn my first playthrough was rough.

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Astarion's gaze followed Amaara as she bid goodnight to Lae'zel, having finished another evening listening to the fighter reading legends from a githyanki plate. As she walked past his tent, she didn't even glance his way.

Stung, Astarion melted into the shadows and trailed her unseen as she made her rounds about camp. His eyes tracked her every movement - the enthusiastic hug she gave Karlach, the warm smiles exchanged with Shadowheart. She crossed to the far side of camp, placing a gentle hand on Wyll's shoulder as she reported the day's findings to Halsin.

A bitter seed lodged in Astarion's throat as she then approached Gale's tent. Scowling, he watched the two wizards leaned in close and started an intense, hushed conversation. Astarion strained to hear. He made out "dreamscape" and “future” amidst arcane terms beyond his understanding. Amaara's eyes were wide with concern as she confided in the wizard.

She grasped Gale's hand urgently, her obvious distress rousing an unwanted pang of concern in Astarion's chest. What plagued her so? Gale enveloped her hand between both of his, murmuring reassurances. For a moment it seemed Amaara was ready to collapse into his embrace.

Jealousy flared in Astarion. Driven by an impulse he could not name, he stepped out of the shadows, interrupting them.

Amaara whirled around, surprise flashing across her features before shifting to weariness at the sight of him.

Gale raised an eyebrow. "Did you need something?" Though polite, his tone held an edge.

"Just...passing by," Astarion muttered lamely. In truth he had no reason to intrude.

With a resigned sigh, Amaara turned back to Gale. "I should rest. Please do consider what I said." She left them with an inscrutable glance at Astarion.

In the uneasy silence, Astarion swallowed his pride. "How do you do it?" he asked Gale grudgingly. "Get her to...be so at ease around you?"

Astarion's question was met with stony silence. Gale's eyes bored into him, jaw set sternly.

When it was clear Astarion expected a response, Gale let out an irritated sigh. "Why should I help you worm your way back into her good graces?"

Astarion bristled at the hostility. "I merely thought you might...offer some insight," he muttered, "after last time we talked."

"My insight tells me to let you reap the consequences of your vile behavior," Gale snapped.

But seeing Astarion's crestfallen expression, his rigid posture softened slightly.

"However...Amaara would wish me to take the high road." He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "I treat her with the same empathy she offers me - with kindness, respect, and honest counsel."

Gale's gaze became thoughtful. "Lae'zel gives her the unguarded companionship she shows no one else. Karlach offers easy friendship. Shadowheart provides healing and care." Gesturing around the camp, Gale asked pointedly, "So what do you give in return for her compassion and devotion?"

The question rang in Astarion's mind as Gale left him alone with his thoughts. What could he possibly provide this mage who had treated him with such tenderness and love?

The others gave their best selves to Amaara. But he had offered only manipulation. For the first time, he wondered if becoming someone worthy of care was possible, or if his soul was too poisoned by cruelty. Perhaps if he dared to open himself to sincerity, he might find some fragment of goodness to share. But it would require relinquishing all control. A daunting prospect.

Like a dog rolling over and exposing its soft underbelly in a desperate plea for affection.

And in that moment, he realized that he was willing to do just that. He was willing to roll over and expose his own vulnerabilities, to show the parts of himself that he had kept hidden for so long.

Because he knew, deep down, he would do anything to have her. To have her genuine affection, to be worthy of her care. He wanted to be more than a manipulator, more than a predator. He wanted to be someone who could love and be loved in return.

Astarion mustered the courage to approach Amaara. But this time, his presence didn't elicit the warm smile and adoring gaze that had once been his reward. Instead, he was met with a tension that radiated from her very being. Her stance was poised and alert, legs positioned for stability, fingers flexing almost imperceptibly as if eager to close around the grip of her staff. He could practically hear the gears of her mind turning, calculating, assessing.

It was the battle stance he had stood beside countless times. But now, it seemed directed at him. He had become the source of her wariness.

Astarion's heart sank as he realized the depth of the chasm he created between them. The connection they had once shared had been replaced with caution and defensiveness. He was no longer the recipient of her trust and affection; He is entirely unsure if this could be remedied, but he had to try.

"Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk," Astarion's voice trembled with anxiety, his vulnerability exposed in the slight quiver of his words.

Amaara paused, She could sense the unease radiating from him and couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern. Her posture relaxed as she questioned, "Are you alright?"

A nervous laugh escaped Astarion as he shifted uncomfortably. Bracing himself for what was to come, he began his confession, "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just...feel awful." His gaze met hers, a mixture of apprehension and sincerity. "Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never oppose me." He chuckled nervously, a self-deprecating edge to his amusement. "It was easy, instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you...which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart."

Before he could gauge her reaction and say more, Amaara's voice cut through, laced with anger and hurt, "That's quite enough!" Her eyes opened wide as she regarded him. "What is this, more of your theatricals? I'm not blind. Last time we were intimate, I sensed your disgust and loathing. I now understand why you see me as your leash, you hated the fact that you couldn't fully control me! Fall for me? Truly?" She shook her head, her frustration evident. "What is it that you wish to accomplish with these lies?"

Astarion’s eye widened. He had been so overconfident in his "skills" that he had completely overlooked how insightful Amaara could be. He scrambled to explain himself, to lay bare his wounds and scars as he had intended. "No, wait, Amaara, let me explain! Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for...him." He paused, his gaze filled with the weight of his past, "Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels...tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. What you perceived as revulsion was truly my own self-hatred."

He closed his eyes, "I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to."

Amaara's scholarly mind processed this newfound insight. Understanding flickered across her features, followed by a tinge of embarrassment. She had never been adept at the matters of the heart, but honesty had always been a principle she held dear. If she had spoken up, voiced her doubts, this misunderstanding might have been avoided.

But their problem was more than that, wasn't it? She lowered her voice, "So much for my prided intellect - you thoroughly used me from the start. Our late night conversations, those tender words, my first night...none were real. I must have been very entertaining."

Amaara's blunt words hung in the air like a verdict. Panic began to claw at Astarion as he gazed into Amaara's eyes. There were no tears, no fiery anger, just a calm and piercing gaze that seemed to lay bare every deception, every manipulation he had woven into their tangled web of emotions. He’d have preferred for her to shoot another magic missile at his gut.

Astarion knew he had to tread carefully now, choose his words with utmost precision, or risk losing her forever. Instinctively, he turned to his silver tongue, the very tool that had ensnared her heart in the first place. It would be so easy to deny her accusations, to profess his undying love and devotion, but deep down, he understood that if he uttered those words now, she would turn and walk away.

He scrambled for the right words, some way to undo the damage. But without his seductive façade, he was stripped bare. How could he articulate something so unfamiliar as real affection? Romance had only ever been a gambit, passion a parody.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to blunt honesty. "Amaara," he began, his voice softer, stripped of its usual veneer of charm and guile, "I won't insult you by denying the truth. For centuries I was but a means to an end, and I would treat everyone as tools, you included.”

"But the more time we spent together, the more I found myself caring, though I didn't understand it. I was such an idiot. So caught up in familiar habits I couldn't see the truth.”

"I know I don't deserve your trust," he confessed. "But I swear, it stopped being a ruse long ago. What we shared meant everything to me. For centuries I existed only to serve my old master's thirst, and I had nothing to call my own. But then I had you. For the first time, I had something just for myself. Someone who saw me as a person, not a tool or monster. I tried to bend your will in my favor…merely a pathetic way to gain reassurance that you cared about me. The truth is...you terrify me."

Amaara's eyes widened in surprise. "I terrify you?" she asked incredulously. "Why? Have I ever given you cause to fear me?"

Astarion gave a shaky laugh, raking a hand through his hair. "I know, it's madness. The brilliant, compassionate woman who tended my heart with such care somehow became a threat in my mind.” His voice grew fervent. "Because you had such power over me, power to hurt me like no blade ever could. It reminded me of Cazador's control, and it terrified me. The more you gave, the more I cared, the more terrified I became. I handled it wretchedly. The venomous words I spewed your way originated from fear. Fear that you were too good to be true, that the vulnerability I felt around you would be my ruin."

Astarion's voice trembled with emotion. “So I tried to manipulate you, stoke your physical desire to secure your lust, use your body for my own reassurance and gain an illusion of control. I told myself that if I could make you want me carnally, you would never leave."

Astarion's confession left Amaara reeling. She struggled to comprehend the logic behind his words.

"I offered you my heart, yet you treated it like dust," she said, bewildered and hurt. "After everything I did to get through to you, you thought I was no different than Cazador?” The absurdity of this made her realize the extent of the trauma that had corroded Astarion, her tone softened,” My heart saw someone worthy of care, but you chose to see a master to appease. It never occurred to you that I wanted you for you?"

Astarion looked down, the self-loathing in his eyes palpable, "I couldn't fathom why anyone would want me, as I am, for anything but use. And you are not just anyone. You...you're incredible. Why would someone like you care for someone like me? I was certain you'd turn cruel if I lost my grip.”

Amaara folded her arm, “I see. You didn’t trust me. You know, what you are saying is really not helping your case.”

Astarion realized how horrible this all sounded, but it’s the painful truth. He lowered his head, “Trusting another goes against every instinct I have. I betrayed your trust, sneered at the depth of our connection, and inflicted pain upon you out of fear and confusion." His voice trembled with sincerity. "I... I am truly sorry."

He looked up at her eyes again, “I may have started with my usual tricks, and it took forever for me to realize that I can trust you, that what I felt for you was real. But when I finally realized it, you cannot know how profound that was."

As he peered into her steady gaze, he found no immediate forgiveness there, only a quiet understanding. Closing his eyes, his heart sank. Desperation slowly gave way to acceptance. "You cannot know how profound that was." he repeated, voice thick with emotion, "I will always treasure the feeling. It's foolish to think I can win your forgiveness. I suppose it is for the best. I don’t have anything to offer you, only more burden to share."

Despite the complexity of her emotions, Amaara found herself compelled to offer comfort, even if it was just as a friend, as a companion. She spoke gently, her words carrying a sincerity that surprised even her, "I care about you. Deeply."

Astarion's shoulders slumped, her continued rejection weighing heavily on his mind. He was trapped in a cycle of self-doubt and uncertainty. He sensed her response was out of sympathy rather than genuine affection, and he couldn't help but feel dejected. "Really?" he asked, his voice low, as if he couldn't quite fathom that someone might truly care for him.

Amaara looked at his pained expression. Her own anger and frustration faded. Sune preserve her! she could never resist him when he acted like this! How did she get herself into this mess? Sure it hadn't been a meaningful connection from the very start; no, it was something far more superficial. Amaara’s mother was a cleric of Sune, so she was influenced by Sune's teaching at a young age. Astarion's beauty called to be loved. His palpable loneliness begged for companionship. Then there was his undeniable skill in the arts of passion, as if he had been taught by Lady Firehair herself. She was captivated after denying herself such pleasure for years. To her, it was as though their connection was fated, meant to be explored and experienced.

Right at this moment, when the ugly truth of his manipulation had come to light, when he had revealed his deceitful and self-serving nature to the world, any true follower of Sune would have walked away without hesitation. But for Amaara, it was an impossible feat.

Deep within her, a resilient fire burned, a fire inherited from her resolute father who despised fickleness in all its forms. Stubbornly, she clung to the belief that beneath Astarion's cruel façade, beyond the layers of deception, there still existed a lonely, beautiful soul yearning for understanding. Her heart, loyal to a fault, refused to let go.

Standing in front of Astarion, Amaara knew clearly - it was no longer a matter of doctrine or stubbornness. It had transcended such excuses long ago. She loved him with a depth that defied reason, a love that outshone every flaw and failing.

She recognized that his manipulations stemmed from deep wounds no one should have to endure. She should never judge him by conventional standards.

The scholarly part of Amaara yearned to dive into books on the illness of the hearts, to understand and help heal his scars. But she knew intuitively that Astarion required more than just academic insight - he needed patience, care, and light on his darkest days.

She was weary of burdens already, but she would find strength to bear his too. The horrific future she had glimpsed in her nightmare, where Astarion had lost himself and emerged as a monster, still haunted her. That chilling vision fueled her conviction to guide him down the path of healing, even when he struggled against it.

There would be times she needed respite. Times his volatility left her shaken. But she would return with warmth, not judgment. His faults were not flaws of character, but corrosions of trauma. She hoped to slowly dissolve the hurt that led him astray.

With emotions overflowing, yet mind resolved, Amaara took a trembling step toward her damaged love.

She sensed the surprise and uncertainty as she embraced him. His arms hesitated before slowly wrapping around her, returning the embrace. They held onto each other, a mixture of comfort and understanding passing between them in that simple touch. He looked down at her, a genuine smile forming on his lips, the tension from before replaced with a sense of ease.

"You are full of surprises," he remarked, his voice filled with fondness. In that embrace, he could feel the familiar warmth of her affection for him, a balm to the doubts that had plagued him.

"Honestly, I have no idea what we are doing. Or what comes next," he confessed, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. He extended his hand towards her, his palm upturned, a silent invitation. Amaara's hand found its place in his, and he enveloped her hand with both of his own. "But I know this… this is nice," he said softly, his voice carrying a sincerity that resonated deep within both of them.

#Only know you love her when you let her go #bg3 fanart #astarion #astarion fanart #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x mc #I Hail from Silverymoon #bg3 #balders gate 3 #amaara ashvale #procreate #my oc stuff

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lirotation · 7 months

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I Hail From Silverymoon: The Desperation

POV my dream. I dreamed a little adventure with Astarion. I think I was Amaara in the dream because he referred to me as a wizard. In the dream there was this intense emotion of wanting to do anything for him. This was a couple weeks ago. Though I awoke happy, it showed my unhealthy obsession.

I smoothed the dream logic a little bit and wrote a fanfic based on it. Everything in purple is what actually happened in the dream. The dream will forever remain a treasured happy memory.

Astarion X Amaara (My wizard Tav)

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After pursuing rumors of a high cleric capable of reversing vampirism, Amaara and Astarion found themselves before a decrepit grand church in a dark, ominous realm. Through the imposing metal gates, hideous creatures wandered the courtyard. There must be hundreds of them

Amaara tensed, ready to charge in spells blazing. But Astarion halted her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Remember you're a wizard, not a barbarian," he chided gently with a chuckle. "Let's slip through unseen."

Chagrined, Amaara nodded. She waved an invisibility spell on both of them and followed Astarion's lead as he stealthily picked the lock on a side door. They crept along moss-eaten halls, alert for any sign of the mysterious cleric.

Mosaics on the walls depicted divine warriors vanquishing fiends. But the crumbling chapel they passed was defiled with dark sigils. Something evil lurked here beneath the holy trappings.

A rasping chant echoed down the shadowy halls. Peering into the sanctuary, Amaara and Astarion beheld a towering, ghostly figure kneeling in prayer amidst flickering candles.

Their eyes met, and without a word, Amaara and Astarion silently communicated their intention to proceed with caution. Amaara stepped forward, making her presence known by clearing her throat softly. The spirit turned toward them, his translucent form exuding an otherworldly glow that cast strange shadows on the chapel's walls.

With a serene expression, the spirit regarded them and, surprisingly, offered a warm and welcoming smile. His ethereal voice, like a gentle breeze, filled the air. "Greetings, travelers," he intoned, “I am Rhys, guardian of this holy place. What brings you here across the realms?"

Amaara stepped forward, offering a respectful nod. "I am Amaara Ashvale," she began, her voice steady. "We have come seeking your aid.”

Amaara hesitated only briefly before sharing their quest for a way to restore life to Astarion. She spoke of their relentless pursuit of rumors that had led them to this church, in search of a cleric rumored to possess the power to undo the curse.

As she finished recounting their journey, the spirit’s gaze seemed to penetrate their very souls, as if he were assessing the purity of their intentions. Finally, he spoke, his voice resonating with a sense of wisdom and compassion. "You seek redemption and salvation, both for your companion and your own souls. Such a noble endeavor should not go unanswered."

He beckoned them closer. "Come, and we shall commune on the matter."

Kneeling, the cleric took their hands. Closing his eyes, he began chanting softly. The markings on his arms glowed brighter as he summoned the divine power to scry Astarion's soul.

a staggering wave of divine energy pulsated through the chamber, a might that could rival that of demigods. Amaara and Astarion locked eyes, the sheer power coursing through them leaving no doubt that this ethereal being commanded the forces of life and death. Guarded hope shone in Astarion's crimson gaze - perhaps this awe-inspiring display meant the cleric truly could unravel his vampiric curse.

After some time, the cleric let go of their hands, he stood up, "I can indeed help you. follow me, my children."

The cleric led them to a ritual chamber well-stocked with arcane components. "We have nearly everything needed to undo this condition," He explained, gesturing at the shelves.

The cleric went on, "There are but two fresh ingredients lacking - the heart of a nightwalker, and the catalyst of life itself."

"One of them is easy," he continued. "The heart of the nightwalker. We have one in the courtyard, surrounded by his bodaks. It wouldn't be too challenging for capable warriors like you."

Amaara inclined her head, her resolve firm. "We can handle that."

"The other one, the most important catalyst, is life," Rhys explained solemnly. "You cannot find any sentient life here normally, but again, the boy is lucky. We have one single life in this realm right now."

A heavy silence fell as the grave implication sank in. As the only living soul present, Amaara herself was the final catalyst.

Astarion grabbed her hand, turning to go. "Ridiculous, we're leaving," he snapped angrily.

But Rhys held up a placating hand. "Please, hear me. For one powerful such as she, only half her lifespan is required."

Astarion's brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced at Amaara, who appeared equally taken aback. "Half?" Astarion echoed.

Seeing their confusion, The cleric explained, "As a gifted wizard with almost 2 centuries ahead, sacrificing half would be no great loss. A fair price for restoring life."

Astarion’s grasp tightened on Amaara’s hand, he looked into her eyes and shook his head, “No, nonono, don’t you even think about it.” He knew too well the determination in her eyes, "This is madness," he muttered.

Amaara gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "A sacrifice, yes, but one we're willing to make," she said gently.

Seeing Astarion's turmoil, she added with a faint, teasing smile, "I would look like Elminster without his beard at 100 anyway, I would like you to remember me as how I look now."

“This is so you,” Astarion snapped, “The answer is no. There will be other ways. We still have plenty of time, you don’t need to do this.”

“We traveled across the realms. All effort ended up in disappointment. This is the closest we’ve gotten. Once we leave this realm, we will not be able to enter again. I don’t want to give up on this chance.” Amaara said firmly. “It is my decision.”

“It is our decision. I won’t do it. You can’t make me.” Astarion’s tone matched Amaara’s firmness. His scarlet gaze shining with desperate intensity. "This sacrifice would haunt us both eternally. Each sunrise hereafter would be tainted by regret, each hour a reminder of what you lost."

“My love,” Amaara’s tone softened, “I know you care about me, but it is really not that big of a sacrifice. We will go seek Elminster out after we are done here. The relic of a wizard must have some spell to prolong lifespan.” She held his hand up and kissed it gently, "we've been traveling for a long time now. I would love to settle down for a while. Just the two of us, and a little house. A dog. Maybe…raise a family."

Amaara's willingness to offer half of her lifespan was a testament to her love and determination, and it both warmed his heart and broke it. Astarion closed his eyes, emotions churning violently within him. She spoke of it so casually, as if her very existence were coins to be casually bartered. “Gods damn it. Gods damn it all!”

"You fear binding me to regret. But I could never regret giving you back the life stolen from you." Amaara brought a hand up to cradle his cheek. "Granting you days bathed in sunlight and nights no longer haunted by bloodlust would fill my heart with joy."

Seeing him unconvinced, she smiled tenderly. "Let me do this, as you would do anything to protect me."

Astarion closed his eyes, leaning into her palm, her words washing over him. She spoke true - had their positions been reversed, he would offer his life in a heartbeat if it preserved hers.

Could he allow her the same choice? The gift of sacrifice willingly given out of deepest love? Perhaps accepting this sacrifice was the only way to honor the depth of her devotion.

"If this is your wish…" he rasped finally, scarlet gaze meeting hers, still swirling with doubt even as he acquiesced. She sealed her promise with a kiss, assuring him all would be well.

They turned back to the cleric, who was silently watching them. Amaara said, “We will proceed. I will be the catalyst.”

The spirit’s shining eyes lit up even brighter. And he paced from one end of the room to the other, muttering to himself what he needed.

The cleric's eagerness to proceed with the ritual put Amaara on edge. As he hastily gathered arcane components, her gaze followed him and she suddenly tensed.

She took Astarion's arm firmly and abruptly, then Amaara said in a calm voice, "First we must retrieve the nightwalker's heart you require. We will return swiftly."

The cleric's eyes narrowed, but he said benevolently. "Of course. I shall prepare the ritual space until your return."

As soon as they were out of sight, Amaara quickened their pace toward the exit. The maze-like halls blurred past until finally they burst through the decrepit doors into the foul air outside.

Amaara quickly waved a high level confusion spell that covered a huge area, then she broke into a run, half-dragging Astarion along. They ran past all the creatures that were attacking each other. She didn't cease until the warped spires of the grand church were far behind them.

Now a safe distance from the church, Amaara finally slowed her frantic pace, bending double and gasping for breath. She managed a weak, relieved laugh, the sound tinged with bitterness.

Astarion had been silent throughout their hurried escape. He peered at her intently and asked, "Did you change your mind?"

Amaara straightened, meeting his gaze with frustration simmering in her eyes. "No. But it seems I've lost my good judgment in my desperation."

“He was too eager, even I wouldn’t be so eager to help someone I just met.” She explained, “ I was watching him prepare and noticed items meant to reconstruct a physical form - grave dust, dragon scales, pieces of bones. Your body remains intact, you do not need these. The implications are clear - this spirit sought my life not to restore yours, but to rebuild his own corrupted mortal shell.” She gave a harsh, hollow laugh. “I thought this was it, the miracle we had sought for years. What foolishness, to trust so readily a spirit encountered in a wretched realm."

Amaara’s voice is tight with pain. "I've grown so desperate that I ignored all logic and instinct. I nearly fell prey to honeyed lies that appealed only to my heart's yearning."

Seeing her crestfallen expression, Astarion stepped closer. "Don't blame yourself. After all the disappointments, it's only natural to reach for a glimmer of hope"

He said gently. "You saw through the deception in time. We'll find another way. I must admit, I didn’t really want to go through with it anyways."

Leaning into him, Amaara allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. "I just want this torment to end for you," she whispered. "But hope makes me reckless."

Astarion held her close, letting her composure crack. "Hope also lights our way ahead," he murmured. "Don't lose it, for it makes you who you are."

Together they stood in solemn silence. The cleric's twisted machinations had dealt a painful blow, one of countless disappointments eroding Amaara's spirit through their long journey.

She could feel desperation taking root inside her, clouding judgment and discernment. How much more could her soul endure before hope became but a memory?

Amaara shuddered at the thought, and Astarion felt it. He tightened his embrace and rubbed her back comfortingly. He whispered, "Perhaps we should take a break, settle down somewhere pretty, get a little house like you wanted."

She slowly relaxed under his touch, allowing herself to imagine a nice little house next to a pretty waterfall. Little boy with her green eyes and his silver hair playing under the sun. It seemed…nice, but also boring. Then a realization surfaced within her. She had become obsessed with the destination - finding a cure. But surrounded by his scent of Bergamot and rosemary right now, she understood the journey had its own profound joy.

She looked up at him, shook her head, "I was so focused on the end goal, I overlooked the gift of our time together." She touched her forehead to his, never wanting to let him go. "Being by your side is home, I see that now"

Astarion's eyes softened as he gently rubbed his nose against hers. "You renew my spirit," he murmured, "just as I hope I renew yours."

They held each other close, two weary souls deriving hope from shared strength. Their end goal waited over the horizon. But for now, the journey itself was home.

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The actual ending of the dream is that I put a warning sign on the gate of the church so other Tavs who are on the same journey with Astarion can avoid this place. hahaha, dream logic.

#I do want more dream like this!#astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanart #astarion fanfiction #balders gate 3 #bg3 #procreate #i hail from silverymoon #my tav #amaara ashvale #weird dreams

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: Delapsus Resurgam

I gave up on this one. LOL, just not what I imagined.

The graveyard scene was perfect, so wholesome I wouldn't change a thing. Though given my Amaara's personality, "sex on thy grave" is not going to happen. To be honest, I don't think killing Cazador magically made everything right for Astarion. Him offering sex here feels like: "1. Let's see if I can do this now. 2. I have to secure this relationship cuz I don't want to lose her."

Astarion X Amaara(my wizard Tav) fluff.

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At the city graveyard, Astarion and Amaara stood side by side in front of his grave.

Astarion said, "There is almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries, I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want."

Amaara turned her gaze to him, tenderness danced in her eyes, "And what do you want?"

Astarion turned to face her, eyes holding warm affection, "You... I want you. You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do. I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don't want to lose that."

Amaara met his gaze solemnly. "You won't. I am oath-bound to you now. Whatever comes, we walk this path together."

Astarion paused, thinking back on the desperate vow she'd made in the ritual chamber. "You may spend your life on a fruitless quest just for my sake...I won't hold you to such an oath."

Amaara stepped closer, taking his hands in hers. "It was no reckless oath made in desperation. I meant every word. However long it takes, I will find a way to restore your life." She brought a hand up to cradle his cheek gently. "time spent with you have been the most cherished moments of my existence. You are worth any sacrifice on my part."

Overcome with emotion, Astarion pulled her into a fervent embrace, “Thank you.” He murmured. Then he stepped away, drawing his dagger, “Well, I should probably fix this.” He curved the current year on the tombstone

He knelt down in front of his tombstone in contemplative silence, and Amaara joined him, a wildflower in her hand. With a gentle touch, she placed the delicate bloom on the grave, a symbol of life and renewal amidst the shadows of death. He cast a soft, appreciative smile her way.

"Cute," he teased, the word tinged with warmth. Then, more earnestly, he continued, "I've been dead in the ground for long enough. It's time to try living again."

Moved by his words and the sincerity in his eyes, Amaara's heart swelled with hope. She turned to face him, mirroring his position, her gaze locking with his. His hands found hers, and he held them gently but firmly.

"With everything that life has to offer," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of his determination to embrace this newfound chance at living.

Amaara's smile softened with shared hope. This was all she had wanted - a future together unburdened by the past's shackles.

Astarion's eyes twinkled with equal parts affection and eagerness. He leaned in close and whispered, "If a night of passion is on the table, my dear, I could certainly be persuaded."

Amaara froze, smile faltering. "On your grave?" she asked uncertainty, She searched Astarion's face intently for any trace of humor. But his eyes held only earnestness.

Her thoughts raced, trying to discern his motives. Did he find some morbid significance in making love at this location, some sense of healing or redemption?

Part of her recoiled at the notion of intimacy in a graveyard, But another part worried refusing might hurt Astarion, making him feel rejected all over again.

Perhaps this was a test of her vow to walk whatever path he needed, no matter how dark. But did devotion demand going against her own instincts? Unsure, she hesitated, grasping for the right words.

Overthinking as always, Amaara tried to ignore the voice inside screaming that this was wildly improper. She wished she could read Astarion's complex emotions and history the way she devoured arcane tomes. But understanding him would take time and care, not just intellect.

All the racing thoughts took only but a second. Amaara pushed aside her uncertainty. She drew him into a lingering, tender kiss, pouring all her affection into it.

After, she met his gaze again and spoke softly. "My love, while I'm touched you want to share this, being intimate in a graveyard would...discomfort me. I hope you understand."

She brought a hand up to cradle his cheek. "The past is buried. Our future lies elsewhere now. In warmth, joy and new memories untainted by sorrow."

Astarion covered her hand with his own, turning his head to kiss her palm. "Wise council as always," He offered a roguish smile. "I suppose cemeteries make better backdrops for brooding, not romance."

They lingered a while longer hand in hand, the silence between them comfortable and contemplative. Amaara could sense Astarion reflecting on all he had endured and lost, and she gave a small, supportive squeeze, anchoring him in this moment.

Then they made their way back to the Elf Song Tavern, both absorbed in thoughts of life, death, and new beginnings.

Upon entering Amaara's room, Astarion hesitated. "Actually, would you mind conjuring up your illusion again? The one of your old bedroom."

Amaara looked surprised but nodded. With a graceful gesture, the modest room transformed around them into her lavish childhood quarters.

Astarion regarded it closely this time. He asked her questions about the décor, the cluttered bookshelves, the sweet scent of potion ingredients. Small details he had ignored before now jumped out, hinting at her personality.

When Amaara drew back the curtains to reveal the dazzling Moonbridge under the starry sky, Astarion joined her there. The wonder in his eyes was genuine now as he took in the iconic view she had shared. This time, the illusion felt real. A true glimpse into her world instead of staged artifice. Proof of how deeply things had changed between them.

"It's beautiful," he said softly, then he turned and pulled Amaara into a passionate kiss in the moonlight, expressing wordlessly the depths of his feelings for her.

When they finally parted, Astarion gently cradled her face in his hands. "I love you, I love this, I love it all." he confessed fervently, laying his heart bare. After centuries unable to trust or feel, those words carried momentous meaning.

Amaara's eyes shone with joyful tears. Hearing him finally say it with sincerity was more magical than any spell.

"And I love you," she replied, with all her heart.

No more false pretenses or manipulation - just openness, grace, and a future together built on understanding. Their true journey was just beginning.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion fanart #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanart #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #i hail from silverymoon #amaara ashvale #my tav #procreate

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lirotation · 7 months

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I Hail From Silverymoon: In His Embrace

Super quick drawing. I've been devoting my time to Starfield =)

POV my little fanfic Astarion X Amaara (my wizard Tav) Fluff. "Is something troubling you?"

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Astarion finally found Amaara on the balcony, her expression deeply pensive, staring out into the night. Her sadness was palpable, and he couldn't bear to see her this way. He approached her quietly and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Is something troubling you, my dear?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he tried to understand the source of her melancholy.

Amaara looked at him, her eyes still carrying the weight of her thoughts. She tried to deflect his worry with a soft smile. "Oh, it really is nothing," she replied, her words belying the sorrow in her eyes. "just weighing our next move."

A lie, surprising coming from Amaara. Astarion was not so easily deterred. He knew her well enough to sense when something weighed heavily on her mind. He pressed on, attempting to guess what might be troubling her. "Is it the battle earlier? I know we were rather useless in the dark, forcing you to shoulder everything…"

"No!" Amaara interjected. "You all performed bravely. The failure was mine for poor strategy."

Astarion could tell that some deeper worry plagued her. “Is it… your parents?" he ventured, "perhaps the sight of Shadowheart reuniting with hers stirred memories of your own family?"

Amaara's gaze drifted away for a moment, and she sighed softly. "No, it's not about them," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of melancholy. "My parents… they're long gone, and I've made peace with that." She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then continued, “I'm genuinely happy for Shadowheart.”

Astarion nodded, understanding that it wasn't her own past that was haunting her.

He continued to study Amaara's expression, searching for the cause of her poorly concealed sadness. He had a nagging feeling that it ran deeper than what she was letting on. "What is it, my sweet, you can tell me."

Sensing that he was not going to let this go easily, she replied cryptically. "It's just… Shadowheart's father is very good looking."

Astarion blinked in confusion. He couldn't fathom why that would be a cause for distress. He tried to lighten up the air, "Darling, I'm hurt, You have eyes for another man? Shadowheart will disapprove!" He pretended to take offense.

Amaara couldn't help but chuckle at Astarion's playful response, a brief glimmer of relief in her eyes. "Oh, you know I only have eyes for you," she teased, her voice soft and affectionate. Then she turned her gaze into the night, her voice still tinged with melancholy. "It's not about her father," she whispered. "It's about me."

Now thoroughly puzzled, Astarion gently turned her to face him, concern etched on his features. "What about you, my dear? What's troubling you?" he asked softly.

Amaara met his gaze, her eyes holding a mixture of sorrow and love. But she couldn't bring herself to voice the thought that had burdened her heart. Instead, she sought refuge in his embrace, clinging to him tightly. It was simple really, Seeing Shadowheart's parents, the stark contrast in their appearances - the ageless elf and the aging human- had compelled the young human wizard to face her own mortality head-on for the very first time in her life. Her existence would be brief compared to Astarion's, and within the limited time she had, she will keep true to her oath, even if she must scour every ancient text across Faerûn, to liberate him from darkness

Sensing her unease, Astarion decided not to push further. He would have to be content with providing comfort in such moments. he pressed his lips to her forehead, a silent gesture of reassurance. "Whatever it is, my love, we'll face it together," he murmured. "You and I, against whatever challenges life throws our way."

#bg3 #astarion #astarion fanart #bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #astarion fluff #i hail from silverymoon #my tav #amaara ashvale #procreate

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: Morning After

POV my little fanfiction, follow up of First Night: Shadowheart, Amaara Ashvale friendship, implied Astarion X Amaara.

Shadowheart exited her tent to find a disheveled Amaara awaiting her, barely able to stand upright. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her complexion was pale and drawn. Yet despite her obvious exhaustion, a dreamy smile lingered on her face.

Shadowheart was startled, this is not a sight she wanted to wake up to. "What in the hells happened to you?" Her gaze traveled over the mage's haggard state and lingered on the hand pressed gingerly to her side. Realization dawned. "On second thought, spare me the details."

With a weary sigh, Shadowheart wove a quick Lesser Restoration spell over Amaara, who sagged with relief as her pain receded.

"Don't overexert yourself so," the cleric chided. But glancing again at Amaara's foolish grin, she amended "Oh, who am I kidding? Maybe learn this spell yourself then. I'd rather not make a habit of being your morning-after healer."

Amaara flushed, but her smile only widened. "Of course, thank you Shadowheart! I'll see you at breakfast." She practically floated away.

Shadowheart watched her go, shaking her head ruefully. The poor girl had it bad. She made a mental note to teach Amaara some restorative spells soon - no doubt she'd be needing them regularly if she kept up these antics.

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This is what I did for my first playthrough, every freaking morning, my poor wizard goes to Shadowheart to rid of that bloodless debuff.

#bg3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 comic #I hail from silverymoon #my oc stuff #Amaara Ashvale #shadowheart #clip studio paint #baldurs gate 3

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail From Silverymoon: Innocent Cruelty

POV my little fanfiction: Gale, Amaara Ashvale(my wizard Tav) friendship. Mentioned Astarion X Amaara

Amaara sat across from Gale as they exchanged spellbooks, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. Gale pointed out an obscure rune, but got no response. He glanced up to see Amaara gazing dreamily at Astarion nearby.

"Faerûn to Amaara, " Gale teased, "Is anybody home?"

Still no response.

"He is that good huh?"

This time the question registered, "Yes...he is." She responded absentmindedly. With that, she was startled to reality. "Oh, I am sorry. Where were we? Arcane cultivation elixir?"

Gale chuckled. "Obviously your thoughts lie elsewhere tonight. We'll resume another time." He proceeded to put his spellbook away and took out his leisure reading. After a couple pages, he looked up and saw Amaara still here, eyeing him hesitantly.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked.

"Yes...''Then a long pause. "can you teach me some, well, techniques, for, umm, intercourse?'' Amaara finally asked, stumbling on the words to make it sound as clinical as possible, "I am sorry! But I don't really have anyone else to ask."

She was engulfed in embarrassment. There was no one really that she could talk to about this. Can you imagine having a girl talk with Lae'zel? Shadowheart may have experiences, but she forgot most of them. Talking to Karlach? No that would just be cruel, and Wyll is way too righteous for this kind of conversation. In the end, Gale was the only person she could turn to for such a conversation, as awkward as it might be.

"I..."Gale gave Amaara a look so complex that Amaara can't even decipher the meaning of it. Then Gale signed in defeat, "as a matter of fact, I can." He handed her a book and waved her away. "Just go read this. Now stop pestering me."

Amaara's whole face lit up. "Thank you Gale!" She hurried back to her tent, clutching the book eagerly.

As Gale watched her go, loneliness knotted his heart. Her transparent affection for Astarion made his own unspoken feelings a pointless longing.

Perhaps it was for the best, he mused dejectedly. The orb in his chest made any real future unlikely. But it still hurt to give advice to the woman he started to really care for on how to please another man. With a heavy sigh, he returned to his book and the solitude of unrequited pining.

#bg3 fanart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale fanart #bg3 fanfiction #Amaara Ashvale #I Hail From Silverymoon #clip studio paint #I like gale a lot #He is perfect for Amaara in so many ways #but matters of the heart rarely followed a “right” path #baldurs gate 3

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lirotation · 8 months

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I Hail from Silverymoon: The First Kiss

Pov my little fanfic, Astarion X Amaara(my wizard Tav) Finally some fluff. All my frustration and dissatisfaction towards BG3 were alleviated by kissing him 10 times a day in game =)

_______________________

Astarion sat staring blankly at the book in his hands, thoughts far away. His mind kept circling back to that moment a couple of days ago when he had confessed his feelings to Amaara. It had taken all the courage he could muster, and the memory of her embrace afterward was etched into his heart.

However, since that night, she hadn't sought him out, and a sense of doubt had begun to gnaw at him. He couldn't help but wonder if he had misunderstood the gesture. Perhaps the hug was just a polite way of saying goodbye. The uncertainty ate at him, and he found himself yearning for her presence, for the warmth of her smile, and for the sound of her laughter.

Over the past few nights, he had watched as Amaara spent her evenings with Lae'zel, engrossed in reading a githyanki book. It frustrated him to no end; the book had already been translated, and Amaara could have easily read it herself. Good thing they finally finished it. He wasn’t sure how many more nights of that he could take.

This evening, as he lingered by the campfire, a scene unfolded that only deepened his ache of longing. Amaara stood preparing a piece of pork, her hands covered with salt and herbs. Next to her, Gale stirred a pot, scooping some soup to blow delicately before feeding Amaara a taste.

Her eyes lit up in delight, savoring the taste. Their laughter filled the air as they shared their enthusiasm for some seasoning they had found. Their easy camaraderie oozed a profound connection Astarion envied. He watched the intimate exchange like an outsider peering through a frosted window. So commonplace, yet beyond his grasp.

Astarion gazed down at the book clutched in his hands - a rare first edition novel he'd discovered in an abandoned house earlier that day. He had secretly tucked it away in his own pack.

He vividly remembered her eager reaction to the tome Gale had shared. He pictured her keen eyes lighting up, soft lips curving into an appreciative smile when he presented this book to her as a gift.

But on second thought, simply handing over the book was not enough. No, better to draw out her anticipation, sharing a chapter or two each night by the campfire's glow. Let the tale unfold slowly through his theatrical narration, giving him an excuse to linger by her side night after night.

The party was gathered around the campfire after dinner. Amaara sat slightly apart, nose buried in a heavy tome, oblivious to the friendly chatter around her.

Astarion sidled up beside her, peering over her shoulder. "My, that looks terribly dull. All those tiny cramped letters, and not a single illustration," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"It's a chronicle of arcane discoveries in Thay," Amaara explained enthusiastically. "This chapter describes the properties of residuum and its catalytic effects when combined with-"

Astarion held up a hand, chuckling. "Spare me the lecture, my dear. Must your nose be glued to these interminable pages every night?" he chided lightly. "Tonight, I wish to share something far more stimulating."

He held up the leatherbound book bearing ornate silver lettering.

"The first edition of 'The Ballad of Drizzt'!" Amaara's eyes lit up in delight as she traced the embossed title. "However did you get your hands on this rare treasure?"

"I happened upon it in the house we visited today.” He opened the book, turning to the first chapter. "Now this is true literature, with prose as sharp as any rapier," he declared. Clearing his throat, Astarion began reading aloud, his cultured voice expertly infusing the tale with drama and suspense.

Amaara found herself enraptured by his performance. The nuance Astarion brought to the dialogue and description had her hanging on every word.

When at last he closed the book, Amaara applauded enthusiastically.

"Now that was a masterful performance! You truly brought the story to life," she praised.

Astarion flashed a pleased grin at her reaction. "I'm delighted you enjoyed it, my dear. Aren’t these beautifully written stories more rewarding than those dry arcane pages? We can do this every night, bedtime stories."

Astarion's gaze traced along Amaara's features, noting the way her eyes lingered on his lips before lifting to meet his own. A lovely smile spread across her face, carrying a mixture of fondness and shy anticipation, "I would really like that." she said softly.

Amaara's smile, so familiar and bright, filled Astarion's heart with warmth and eased his uncertainty. How he had missed that smile! He couldn't help but be drawn to her soft lips, yearning to feel their warmth against his own.

he leaned in slowly, his intent clear—a kiss, a tender moment of connection. But as he moved closer, Amaara's eyes widened, and she leaned away, creating an abrupt gap between them that was filled only by awkward silence.

Astarion's surprise quickly gave way to hurt, and he couldn't hide the flicker of pain that crossed his features. He had misunderstood, and rejection stung deeply. But then, Amaara reached out, placing her hand gently on Astarion's.

"Forgive me," she began, her voice soft with empathy. "I believed that any act of intimacy might make you uncomfortable. Please, you don't have to do this for my sake."

Astarion's hurt subsided as he realized her intentions. He shook his head gently, his voice filled with sincerity, "I would never say no to a tender kiss from you."

Amaara's smile returned, her eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and affection. "All right," she said, her own bashfulness shining through. "...May I?"

Astarion's heart filled with anticipation. "I would like nothing more," he replied with a soft, genuine smile.

So, she leaned in, closing the distance between them, and placed a gentle, soft kiss on his lips. It was a simple peck filled with warmth and affection, a sweet moment that spoke volumes about the feelings they shared.

A sudden bashfulness washed over Astarion as they pulled away, and if he could, he would have been blushing fiercely. He lowered his gaze for a moment, his words coming out in a soft, almost shy tone. "I really rather liked that, you know?"

He slowly reached out to caress her cheek, "I think… that counts as our first real kiss…and It was perfect.” Like a whisper of spring after endless winter. He silently added.

Seeing Amaara's rosy blush as she nested against him, he felt his unbeating heart swell. No further words were needed in that tender moment.

#I love a man who reads #fluff #bg3 fanart #astarion #astarion fanart #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanfiction #amaara ashvale #my oc stuff #astarion x mc #bg3 #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #astarion headcanons #baldurs gate 3 #procreate

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