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#i think it's really interesting to see how astarion's actions are motivated not just by fear but also by shame

whimsywilde · 7 months

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Astarion's Mirror

I couldn't get this out of my head after seeing the idea mentioned somewhere. (A TikTok comment maybe?) I haven't written fanfic since DAI. How am I back at this again? I'm not 100% satisfied with it but if I fiddle too much, I'll lose interest and it will disappear in the WIP folder. lol Enjoy!

Thank you Larian Studios and Neil Newbon for this incredible, beautiful, heartbreaking character!

Recommened Listening: THE FEELS by Labrinth

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“Astarion…” she paused, hesitating, uncertain if the thought that had just danced across her mind would actually work. Sometimes she forgot he was a vampire. His lack of burning up in the sun tended to put his condition out of her mind. The mirror in his hand, however, had brought it back in stark relief. But… what if?

“As adorable as you are when thinking, I can’t help but feel there was more you wanted to say than just my name.” He smirked at her.

She resisted the urge to fall back into their playful banter. “What if you could see yourself… I mean, sort of.”

“What?” It was more of a whispered plea than a question. “How?”

“I’m not sure if it will work. But, the parasites… they’ve let us see into one another's minds before. It makes sense that we could see more.”

She hadn’t really been looking at him while she spoke, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance. Turning her attention more directly to him, his expression caught her off guard. She’d never seen him so vulnerable.

“We don’t have to. I’m not even completely sure it would work. I’ve never really tried to use it before. I just thought….”

“Would you try?” He interrupted, his voice still unnaturally hesitant, absent of the bravado she was used to. “Please.” It was almost an afterthought but may have been the most sincere she’d ever heard him.

She smiled tightly, worried now she’d be unable to connect that way, before closing her eyes and reaching for that alien presence within her mind. She hated the feeling of the cold shiver in her skull as she consciously connected to it and then, taking a breath, eyes tightly shut, reached out to where she felt she’d find Astarion.

At first the connection was light, barely perceptible, like cobwebs in the breeze. After focusing on it for a few seconds, reaching out to it with uncertain hands, it seemed to expand. With her eyes still tightly closed, it was the tide of emotions slowly rolling up in the shore of her mind that hit her first. The anticipation, hopeful expectation, fear and worry. She resisted the urge to retreat from the intensity of his feelings and the jumbled, wordless thoughts that came with them and, again, focused past them. After several seconds, she was surprised to suddenly find herself looking through Astarion’s eyes at herself. She stilled to allow the image of herself solidify in her mind.

Her eyes opened slowly. She allowed her gaze to linger near Astarion’s feet as gained confidence in the connection. The impatience he was feeling rushed to greet her through the bond.

“Look at me.” It was something between a command and a plea.

She opened her mind to him as completely as she could, wanting him to know that she had no motivations behind her actions and lingering gaze other than to allow him to see himself clearly, to be a mirror. She took a deep breath, centered herself and began to slowly lift her eyes up his body. Her gaze was gentle and curious, more that of an artist studying their work, rather than the lusty intensity of a lover. She followed the narrow slope of his hips up his chest and across his shoulders, her eyes lingering for mere moments before moving on. As she reached his neck, there was a brief glance to the scars that had made him the creature he was, before following his perfectly coiffed hair around his face.

Part of her still wanted to tease him, to play. They’d been having fun, taken next to nothing seriously while they traveled and fought together. Even when she allowed him to drink from her, always standing since him hovering over her had felt too intimate, she typically pushed him away afterward with a joke on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes. It was easy and had been so natural to keep him just close enough without letting him in. The intensity of his feelings pouring into her now was more than she bargained for and she had a moment of regret for offering to even try. She didn’t want to feel so much. It left her vulnerable. Opened her up to much more than she wanted to be aware of. Her eyes had frozen at the base of his throat. Why couldn’t she bring herself to look up? She didn’t like the answers her heart was trying to give. His fingers curled lightly under her chin, lifting her face upward, pulled her attention back.

Her eyes snapped up to his suddenly and he gasped. The light from the campfire flickered and flashed across brilliant crimson. My eyes. Those are my eyes. His thoughts came through their link in sharp clarity. Her attention refocused on allowing him to see his face after so long in the dark and allowed the intensity of what he was feeling to drown out her own heart. She didn’t need to exist for this moment. She was giving this gift and she allowed herself to fall back within to the place of an observer. With her surrender, it allowed him to direct her eyes across his features. He took himself in fully and they stood in hushed stillness, eyes and minds locked together.

With their minds so fully blended, she almost didn’t notice her hand absentmindedly reaching out to rest lightly on the side of his face. He didn’t pull away. She used her thumb to pull gently at his bottom lip, exposing his fangs to her gaze.

They passed several seconds that way before her hand dropped, her vision swirling and darkening. She felt her body sway heavily and would have fallen if Astarion hadn’t caught her. Her head was pounding while her stomach churned. She sent up a silent prayer, to whatever god may be listening, that she wouldn’t vomit.

Astarion supported her body against his gently. When she tried to push away from him, he lifted her carefully and carried her to her tent, laying her down on her bedroll.

“You pushed yourself too far. You need to rest,” he scolded. She wanted to protest; to throw out some snarky remark in an attempt to catch him off guard so that they could go back to the superficial game they shared, but she couldn’t seem to measure out enough strength to respond. Sleep was quickly overtaking her. She was never sure if he’d actually turned to look at her before leaving the tent and whispered a strangled thank you or if it was just part of the fevered dreams of the night.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion x oc #larian studios #thank you larian #neil newbon

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limpfisted · 6 months

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while wyll is a very well intentioned person part of the game is about subverting tropes, and to ME hes MY special princess. he is by no stretch of the imagination “perfect” n hes not SUPPOSED to be perfect, n he has glaring flaws present in the text in subtext that make him very interesting narratively

while wyll trying to fight monsters and devils to save people is objectively good

in dnd, monsters, devils, goblins, even animals in the context of this game. theyre still literally people. theyre capable of language and complex thoughts and motivations

while im not about to be like (fire emblem vc) DIMITRI. KILLS. WOMEN. wyll’s quest to be a generic lawful good human warrior male is not as black and white as he wants it to be

and he can be a hypocrite and a liar

and he can be dumb and needlessly vicious. he stands in the middle of the room with priestess guts and to her face goes “tav lets just kill her. lets kill everyone here lets blow this nasty wench to smithereens” and u have to go priestess guts i am so sorry my friend would fucking say that to you. while we are. trying. to be SNEAKY, WYLLIAM!!

he DOES try to kill karlach. he probs killed other innocent prisoners of zariel. he thought it was the right thing to do, its reasonable. but he still did it. n he never faces tbe consequences or even the guilt.in fact he only faces consequences n guilt when he does the RIGHT thing

wyll IS a very kind and tolerant person to a point but its interesting to see like. who deserves second chances to wyll. and why

like obviously being a generic goblin killer doesnt make u a bad person or anything. its good to kill momsters that are hurting ppl. but hes eventually going to hv to look back on the things hes done for mizora and the devils hes killed, and go “hm.” bc even tho he HAD to do it. he also justified it. and that makes it worse

its honestly kind of interesting he doesnt hv anything to say abt freeing 7000 hungry vampire spawn. n when ascended astarion mentions them, wyll asks how many ppl astarion has killed. “dozens, hundreds?” bro it was 7007 ppl, u know the exact number. he cant even wrap his head around it

like everything else in his life—i dont think he really knows how to weigh the burden of that decision bc he can really never let himself feel the full severity of anything without going “ok moving on” or “let my next action prove my worth.” (ie when he tells karlach hes been a beast but he still wants to prove himself, when u tell him hes a monster, he will still prove himself to the sword coast n be tbeir protector.)

its a very rich thing, hes going on his own little narrative journey here where hes realizing what kind of man and hero he wants to be, same as all the rest of them

n a part of that is coming to terms with things like balduran being a lie, n baldurs gate being so much less than he remembers

something i really enjoy abt the game as someone who considers themself an existentialist is. the burden of freedom. we are condemned to be free. despite the facticities and realities of the world n other ppls reactions to our decisions—we alone make our choices n deal with those consequences

wyll is always, always making the best of a bad situation, hes always doing the best he can, hes always doing what he thinks is right, he always tries to be kind and good and gentle to the people “who deserve it.”

but hes only human, and the road to hell is paved with good intentions

when it comes to morals and “goodness”—sometimes being guided by fairy tales and legends is…. lazy moralizing, that will lead to more pain for everyone, wyll included

wyll DID do good things for the people of the sword coast. and that matters. but u know what. everybodys got something to atone for, pobodys nerfect

again this is not a wyll hate post this is actually a WYLL IS AN INTERESTING CHARACTER AND INTERESTING CHARACTERS HAVE FLAWS post lol. hes really not as goody goody as people think. he loves murder and blood tbh, just u know, the murder and blood of evil doers

#ooc #hc

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covenscribe · 5 months

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thoughts on the Larian IGN interview posted today (Dec.15.2023)

Interview is here

my thoughts under read more cut

-Personally think they shouldn't have added Karlach before they figured out her main story, hearing that there was never 'more' planned sucks because shes a great character and really should have been given more in game time to flourish

-Lae'zel is literally a child soldier I don't see toning her down in any sense as good

-I agree that Astarion's main motivating factor is fear I don't know why people are upset about this assessment tbh

-Okay the big issue is that the Evil Playthrough's lack of content is 'A consequence of your actions' . It is a video game, if you let people make a choice that you feel you need to punish them for then thats not fun. That's bad dming in dnd. I feel like Im being lectured for reading horror novels, some times I want evil storylines.

Instead of leaving it empty it should have been that more evil things fill in the void left by good being killed. Such as filling the city with more cultists, more missions seeing how the world is negatively affected by your choices other than just emptiness. Don't stop at having to kill kids at the grove for the evil run, keep the horror of evil snowballing until the world is burning.

If you're going to have an evil option go all out with the same effort you give the good options or it feels like half a game.

-I'm annoyed they didn't plan more for Halsin in act 3 other than to be there to be kidnapped and annoyed with the city. You have a whole character full of potential! And being the sole third option for poly romance being treated as a tacked on after thought feels bad.

-Shadowheart's original character pitch being a sharran jason bourne was a choice lol. I like how she is in game.

-I think its interesting that they noticed how it was unfair that some characters weren't getting as much love because of where they were placed on the map for recruitment. Like, y'all built that map...

I think it would have been better if the nautiloid section was a lot bigger and you end up recruiting all main companions on the ship, you can still have rescuing gale from a portal, astarion threatening you, wyll and karlach being about to fight when you have to get to the helm.

saying the potential to miss karlach added replay value i disagree with as it just adds frustration imo

-"Wyll: 'We Lost a Little Bit of Narrative Room"

You Sure Did, I love Wyll's story line but he gets so little screen time compared to other characters that it drives me up the wall. Also seeing how we went from the one black companion potentially being replaced by a white woman ( mizora ) in his original story line to being the only companion that can kill another companion doesn't feel good imo.

Tying character story lines together to make the world feel more connected is good but that was a miss

-The Emperor, like Astarion, being motivated by fear makes sense, but the emperor is more of a level headed manipulator and that's why he had a full underground empire of business deals.

-I love the irony that he devil is one who tells you the honest truth about the emperor.

-Saying "One of the basic questions of the game was whether you would become a monster if it would save the world." is interesting because with the companions it often feels like 'would you make yourself a monster to protect yourself' instead.

The ending is full of self sacrifice for multiple characters so I don't think its about becoming a monster, I think it's more about how people who are forced into awful situations will always come out changed.

-Raphael absolutely is a theater kid with too much power lol

-i disagree with the interviewer saying there was no real reward for not taking in more tadpoles the reward is less worms in your brain matter lmao

-imo they wouldnt have had to make minthara recruitable in a good playthrough for people to experience her storyline if they just put content in for the evil playthroughs so its just as fun and people will play it

I think that given unlimited time and resources, I'd want to make a new game at this point. I'm happy with Baldur's Gate 3.

"Baldur's Gate 4 confirmed. SV: What did I miss? AS: Apparently I just confirmed... No, I didn't."

dont tease me lol

-jaheria romance was planned and im sad we didnt get the gilf romance now

-apparently there is or was a special event that happens if you have stolen from a ton of people

Okay that was the full interview my main thought is

Stop pulling a bioware where you re-write a bunch of stuff that has already been worked on and you will have time for more of what you had planned and with less crunch.

That said I also know I'm an outsider and can't know everything they struggled with to make this game happen and genuinely wish them the best. I wouldn't bother critiquing the game if I didn't love it.

#im not tagging this its just liveblogging #my thought soup #covenscribe bg3 thoughts

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invinciblerodent · 5 months

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I've been kinda thinking about character motivations, and reasons for decisions made in each playthrough all day, and I think the core of Iona's personal narrative is finally starting to expose itself to me, which is neat.

Like... while Arvid's arc is overall about him balancing the divine with the mundane, and learning to make decisions with his own needs in mind occasionally, Iona's is shaping up to be one of... the continual challenging of long-held beliefs, and picking through her own survival tactics like she's unpicking a big, painful knot in one's hair that's tugging at the skin. Her story is kind of looking like it's about finding the line between what's true, and what was merely said enough times to start sounding like the truth- about what even the liar was lied to, basically.

From the beginning, when she's outed as specifically not a by-choice magic user, but a magical being, one with living sorcery in her veins, to her vehemently anti-magic community their warmth turns instantly to cold steel (even running to her husband for help and comfort only to meet scorn, rejection, and pain), she has had to constantly challenge herself, and try to find just how much of her view of the world was grounded in common sense, and how much of it is just... common nonsense.

It kind of works out beautifully that the first people she breaks bread with in the game are a guarded and jumpy young woman who is 100% lying to her (yeah, turns out she's an ardent worshipper of a dark, forbidden goddess), and a handsome, if foppish, city-type fellow, who only suspends his bristling about roughing it long enough to lay on the charm extra thick and obvious (whoops, a vampire- someone she would have ordinarily believed to be a mindless monster at that point).

Over and over in the story, Iona seems to have to completely reevaluate all the things she thinks she knows. Everything, from her idea of what a monster is, to where the line between morality, justice, and ruthless self-interest lies, to what love is and looks like (is it a contract? a mutually beneficial transaction? something different and delicate and precious and entirely new?), is constantly being challenged, and since the factors doing the challenging seem immutable, it has to be her who does the changing.

In the beginning portions of act 2, she was a little... noncommittal, about the whole ascension thing. Sure, in act 1 she was fully in favor of upending Cazador's whole schtick (in a "cool plan my guy, godspeed, have fun with that, glad that's not my mess to clean up" kind of way), and this thing, while literally diabolical, it was easy enough to see that it'd at least get results. Like, maybe the ends really would justify the means like they so often have so far, and the "number of souls" sacrificed were no more than an abstract that he at least seemed excited about. But meeting Dalyria and Petras (and experiencing that spark of genuine fear of Astarion then), talking to the attacking spawn, that (on top of everything else learned, including the sentience and potential benevolence in mind flayers and all that) is yet another very sharp pivot in her mind that exposes the whole thing for the nakedly amoral action it would really be.

Between that night in the Elfsong, and when we'll finally go to Cazador, she'll be slowly piecing together her thoughts on how much power is it really okay for just one person to take, how much revenge is justified, and at what point does it turn to harmful excess, to evil for its own sake, and there is something... that's imo kind of beautiful about how "not my circus, not my kobolds" turns into "I want you to live a life you can be proud of".

(In my headcanon, after the "the world can be a wonderful, kind place, Astarion, if you find your place in it" line she says in that post-attack callout, there is just a tiny bit of an insert of an expansion: it's just him asking, with an exhale that could pass for amused were it not for the somber look in his eyes, "you really believe that, don't you?" and her responding, with just a hint of a desperate edge, as if uncertain herself, "I have to. Otherwise, what's the point? To all this?")

#if she had a personal quest it'd have to be one that can be completed at any point in the game #but depending on how long one lets her grow and change; the outcomes would be radically different #like if you go to the cult with her in act 1 it ends in a horrible; game-endingly difficult massacre of a village #the game clearly intends you to fail then and it's doable only technically; if you really WANT the bad ending #so you need to level and grind and come back much later #but by the time you're in act 3 and would decimate everything she has grown enough that there... need not even be any killing #is this anything #the exact same outcome -slaughtering all- could either gain her unshakable loyalty but cement her in a cold spiteful state #that may or may not bite the player in the ass later #or cause her to become hostile and/or permanently leave the party #that sounds like it'd be a pretty cool thing for a game like this to do #squirrel plays bg3 #oc: iona raedir #i am. in so much pain today #need sleepies bye bye honk-shoooooo #i've been poking this wall of text for like an hour now i'm so foggy

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the-apocryphal-one · 3 years

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Apo Plays BG3 EA Part Six: Companion Thoughts

So I guess I’m pretty much finished with EA, three playthroughs has been fun (especially Isaniel’s), but it’s gotten to the point where I’m getting tired of doing the same content over and over. Which means it’s time to stop either until full release or a major update.

I’m probably gonna procrastinate on a proper review like forever, but I did post my thoughts on the companions in a reddit thread and decided to just copy + paste them here.

(unmarked spoilers ahead)

For Gale and Wyll, I don't think their motivations can easily be summed up in just one word. Like yes, there are selfish undertones to why they do what they do--but at the same time, there's layers. Wyll wants to be perceived as a hero, but he takes time to teach little kids to swordfight. He hates the goblins for what they've done (the war party that torched that town and stole his eye) and wants to protect people from them, but also wants vengeance. He's a mix of selfishness, appearance and genuine altruism, imo.

Likewise, Gale simps for Mystra, but will go for you, which isn't exactly faithful (I've heard--can't confirm--but I've heard that he'll try to persuade you to cheat on your LI with him, if you got the Weave scene but didn't pick him at the party, which is Not Cool). He regrets his past actions and wants to make sure no one else is hurt by them, so he's willing to go off and die alone. But he doesn't want to just lay down and give up, he wants to find a cure. So he'll consume magical artifact and not stand up for his principles when it matters the most (not turning on you if you attack the tieflings). I think he's a man who talks a lot about the value of life, protecting kids, helping others, and believes it, but is being held back by fear from committing.

Astarion is definitely the most relatable of the companions right now, imo, just because his reactions are exactly the kind of stuff you'd see from an abuse victim. Flinching away from genuine vulnerability (the shoulder pat), trying to mask his pain at what he went through (look at how often he talks about what Cazador did like it's a joke), and showing genuine terror at the thought of going back? All super humanizing and compelling. Then he turns around and laughs at people being hurt or hurting animals and it's awful, unjustified--but it makes sense because sadly, abuse victims can become cruel themselves as a way to cope. But then he goes and approves of helping Karlach, so maybe he's not beyond hope? You could take out the fantasy stuff and plop him in the real world and he would still fit, is what I'm saying.

Lae is full of herself, but the way the other gith treat her really gives me the impression she's a young teen trying too hard to impress the adults. Like with that context, the scenes where she talks about how she's definitely going to have a silver sword and ride a red dragon one day, or where she talks about proving her loyalty to Vlaakith, come off less as sure arrogance but more as a kid talking about what they want to be when they grow up. Which, along with her complete inexperience with the Material Plane, is kind of adorable. But I definitely think she's been indoctrinated by her culture to not question anything and just lay down her life for Vlaakith, which is not so adorable.

SH's super secrecy frustrates me as a player, but as a roleplayer it's great and fitting for her deity worship. I think there are a lot of hints lying around that she's not who she thinks she is, with the missing memories, magic stirring up around Selune, and her own (to her admitted surprise) compassion for the tieflings. I feel like I don't have as much to say about her as I do the others? Maybe because there's a lot missing from her past, but what is there is very consistent with her secretive personality.

tl;dr the “evil” companions’ worldviews stem from past evils done to them--abuse, indoctrination, or cult brainwashing--and hopefully you can help them heal from that, thus bringing about a redemption arc; the “good” companions aren’t entirely altruistic, but struggle with human flaws that hinder their better natures; and all of the companions so far have been nuanced, consistent, and interesting.

EDIT: I should clarify Gale’s unfaithfulness isn’t because he’s with Mystra (he isn’t, and he even says he’s not sure how to feel about her), but because he still has some hang-ups from that relationship and thus can’t give full emotional fidelity right now.

EDIT #2: I should also clarify that I have no delusions that Astarion was a good person pre-turning. I would be more surprised if he was than if he wasn’t. I just think he may not have been as bad as he is now and that many of his beliefs have been predominately shaped by his experiences with Cazador.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion #shadowheart #gale #wyll #lae'zel #meta #my meta

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whitewolfandthefox · 4 years

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Call of the Wild Part 6

Summary: You meet the man who has been hunting shapeshifters

Words: 4.5k

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A/N. Next part, lovelies! Please let me know what you think, reblogs and comments really help me find the motivation to write.

The Sorcerer

You woke slowly, your whole body feeling fuzzy, head hurting. You groaned, sitting up as you lifted a hand to your forehead. The smell of tepid water invaded your senses, forcing you the rest of the way awake. You cracked your eyes open and froze, mind refusing to connect the scene in front of you to where you thought you were supposed to be. Suddenly, your memories of the night before came back to you in a blinding rush.

Kiala coming to warn you, frantic packing, hearing the shouts outside your home, seeing Vissen leading a mob towards you. Friends and family calling for your death, shouting and chasing you. Pain from the blows rained down upon you, shifting, running, hiding, someone help me, please, help, help, help, I don’t want to die-

You pulled yourself from your thoughts, afraid of what would happen if you let yourself sink too deeply. Looking around, you took in your dark surroundings. You were in a small cell, bars forming one side of the room. There was a small bed and a chamber pot, a chair being the only other furniture in the dreary space. The floors were made out of cold stone, the same as the walls. Hearing footsteps echoing around the space, getting closer, you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall, staying as far away from the door as you could.

A group of men came into view, dressed in dark clothes and armour, except for one. The man in the middle was dressed in intricate robes, a dark maroon embroidered with black detailings along the sleeves and hems. He stared at you in interest. “This is it?” he asked.

Your upper lip twitched, upset at being called an it, though you didn’t move. A man pushed his way to the front. “Yes, m’Lord, this is the shapeshifter who has been terrorizing our town.”

Your lips pulled back from your teeth in a snarl as you saw who the man was. Vissen.

“Good, good,” the first man said absently, tossing a small bag his way. “Here is the rest of your payment.”

Horror flooded you as you realized that Vissen had thrown you out of your home for money. A growl slipped out of your mouth at that, causing Vissen to blanche and the other man to smile.

“It does have teeth.” He gestured, and a guard threw your cell door open, the others rushing in. You were quickly apprehended, though you fought, squirming and trying to land blows to free yourself. It quickly ended with you hanging between two men, a third securing you against his chest as the man in maroon robes glided into the room. The man grabbed your face, turning it to examine your features. You growled at him, wrenching your face out of his grip and slamming your head into the nose of the guard restraining you, fighting to get free.

He laughed, a sharp unpleasant sound, ignoring the cursing of the man behind you. You winced as the guards tightened their grip on your arms, keeping you secure between them. Taking a step back, he looks you up and down, examining every inch. You shiver, his gaze is clinical, as if he doesn’t consider you worthy of feelings. At another gesture from him, you are dropped to the floor, pushing yourself away from the men as soon as you hit the ground.

The guards exit your cell, lingering in the hallway as the man seated himself on the chair. You shrunk against the wall, not liking the way his gaze rested on you. After a drawn out silence, he nodded to himself, relaxing back against his seat.

“Welcome to the new world, little creature.” The drawled nickname rankled you. “You have just become part of the research to further the survival of the human race. Not that you are one, of course.” He laughed, a bitter sound.

“You shapeshifters are the key to healing human diseases. With your regenerative powers and your accelerated healing, we could save thousands.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “If I could just figure out how you do it. But that’s why you are here, little creature, to help me discover just what it is that makes you tick.”

“You may call me Master Astarion, little creature, if you address me at all.” He stood as he said this approaching you. “I will teach you what we expect of you during your stay here, so that you will know to behave.”

“I will do no such thing, you bastard,” you hissed, struggling to your feet. The world spun around you as you tried to evade his grasp. His hand brushed you, causing your whole body to stiffen as a wave of burning heat swept through you. You dropped to the floor, writhing in pain at his feet, tears leaking out of your eyes. He crouched next to you, observing your actions with a clinical disinterest. As the fit subsided, your chest heaved with your desperate gasping, struggling to pull breath into your lungs.

Your screams split the air as he again brushed his hand over you, muttering something under his breath. Lacerations appeared on various parts of your body, skin and muscle splitting to allow the blood within your veins to spill forward, staining your dress and pooling on the cold stone beneath you. Astarion reached into his pocket, staring at you as your back arched off the floor, rigid with pain. It was like nothing you had ever felt, a burning that never ended, setting all of your nerves alight with fire.

“Stop, please, stop, it hurts,” you begged of the man - sorcerer? - who was inflicting this agony upon you.

“Shhh, I know,” he murmured, almost soothingly. You felt a hand brush down your cheek, but you were in too much pain to care. A pinch to your shoulder caused your eyes to fly open just in time to see the man produce a dagger from his pocket.

In one fluid motion, Astarion buried the dagger into your left shoulder, drawing a choked scream from your throat. Your body slumped, folding in on itself as pain shot out from your shoulder, overwhelming anything else in your body. Sobs wracked your body, breath catching in your throat as you choked on blood, reeling as you tried to deal with the pain surging through your body.

Distantly, you heard the man stand as he brushed his robes off. Stopping in the door, he turned to observe your fallen figure. “Rest up, little creature, I will be back for you soon.” With that he left, the door to your cell clanging shut behind him.

Curling in on yourself, you dissolved into silent tears, pain overshadowing every thought. Absently, you reached for the warm feeling inside of you associated with Geralt, wrapping yourself in the warmth and trying to forget your situation. As you fell into darkness, you thought you could smell Geralt’s distinctive musky scent, an earthy smell underwritten with the flavour of pine and sweat.

**~*~*~*~**

Busying himself with stripping and packing Yennefer’s tent, Geralt glanced over his shoulder to see Jaskier chasing Ciri across the clearing as her laughter filled the clearing. “Jaskier, are you and Ciri packed? We need to be ready to leave when Yenn gets back. You know how she is about waiting for you when you’ve been goofing off with Ciri and ignoring your tasks.”

Coming to a stop, Jaskier put his hands on his hips, and offered Geralt an offended look. “I am highly offended that you would even suggest that I wouldn’t finish packing before playing. “ He shushed Ciri as she came alongside him. “I am of course ready to go as soon as you are. Why, it's you and Yenn who are slowing us down!”

Geralt’s lips twitched as a black raven set down behind the bard, ignoring the continuous stream of protests coming from him.

“What about the clothes you have left to dry by the river? You are not bringing those?” Yennefer’s voice caused Jaskier to startle as she appeared behind him. Ciri giggled at her sudden appearance. “Seriously Jaskier, we’ve only been here a few days, how could you possibly have lost them already?

“My- what clothes?” Jaskier spluttered.

“We washed some of your doublets yesterday, Jask, don’t you remember? I was going to remind you, but you were too busy complaining.” At Ciri’s words Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, stalking away to retrieve his forgotten clothing, muttering under his breath about stupid Witchers and sorceresses.

“Did you find the keep, Yenn?” Geralt demanded, turning to the woman as she fixed her dress from her flight.

She looked up, meeting his gaze as she studied him. “I did. I think they have a new shapeshifter they are experimenting on; they brought someone into the keep late last night.” This revelation drew a growl from Geralt. “You have never been so invested before, Geralt. What changed?”

He said nothing as he continued staring at her before looking away. “I don’t know, I just have this feeling that-”

He cut himself off as he staggered, hand flying to clutch at his left shoulder as pain shot through it, as if stabbed.

“Geralt!” Ciri was immediately at his side, supporting him as he regained his equilibrium, Yennefer also moving towards him.

“I’m ok, my shoulder just burned for a moment.” he reassured her, patting her shoulder as he stood, pulling back his tunic to look at his shoulder, marked with nothing but old scars. He raised his eyes to meet Yennefer’s gaze. She was looking at him with a perturbed expression on her face.

“What happened?” She reached out to touch his shoulder before hissing as she snatched her hand back as if burned. Stretching her fingers out, she examined them before looking back at her companions, both staring at her with confused expressions. “I felt someone else’s presence there, just for a moment. It felt almost like a…” she trailed off.

“A what, Yenn?” Ciri inquired, Geralt staring at her with an almost guilty expression on his face.

“Never mind, Ciri. I thought I felt something but I was wrong, it wasn’t what I thought. Would you mind going to help Jaskier collect his clothes? We need to leave soon.” She smiled gently at the girl as she sent her off after the bard before spinning and pinning Geralt with a glare.

“Geralt! I can’t believe you! Why would you leave that incomplete? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Geralt stared back at Yennefer with an unreadable gaze as she ranted at him. “You should know better! Of all the things you could have done, leaving that unfinished was the absolute worst choice! You could get seriously hurt if anything happened!”

“I didn’t know I had started one!” Geralt stalked away, tension radiating from his posture. “And I know the dangers, Yenn! I wouldn’t have left it unfinished, I would have…” he trailed off as Yennefer came to stand beside him, posture softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I know, Geralt,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out.”

**~*~*~*~**

You drifted on a haze of pain, never really surfacing, never going under. You could hear voices moving around as you felt yourself being shifted.

“Show me your other form and the pain will stop. Just change, I need to see your demon form, little creature.”

Sobbing, you shook your head.

The pain increased, back arching, nerves feeling as if they had been set alight.

You couldn’t give in.

The burning pain came again, screams tearing their way out of your throat, voice breaking. You remember pleading, no, please, don’t hurt me, I can’t give you what you want, I don’t know what you want, stopstopstopstop. Stop, I want to go home, please stop, please stop, let me go home, ithurtsithurtsithurts.

Geralt. Help.

Again you reached for that warmth, that string that you felt extending from you, cloaking yourself in its presence. You floated, trying to distance yourself from the pain, time passing as you sheltered within the presence.

“Just change, you little bitch! I need to see your shape shifter form!”

You could feel the knives, the pain, the warm blood pooling beneath your body as it cooled against the stone. Could feel the hands on your skin, in your skin, poking and prodding at you. Diving deep down, you curled your mind around your heart, hiding deep within yourself to escape the pain.

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt fell to his knees, pain surging through him as Ciri cried out, Yennefer reaching for him, concern in her eyes, Jaskier frozen in place.

**~*~*~*~**

A sharp pain brought you back to awareness, your head spinning with blood loss. “It’s coming around, just give it another moment.”

Astarion’s face swam in your vision before solidifying, a sharp grin on his face. “There it is. Welcome back, little creature.”

You shot up to a sitting position, shuffling backwards until you hit the wall. Astarion was crouched in the middle of the room watching you, now dressed in dark pants and a loose grey tunic. He toyed with a dagger in his hand, the same one that he stabbed you with, you realized. Your hand came up to your shoulder, finding the wound scabbed over and tender to touch. Finding it mostly healed, you scrabbled at your arms, finding the same thing there, that the wounds that have been inflicted on you - hours? days? - before were sealed over, thin pink lines the only evidence they had ever been there.

“It’s quite remarkable isn’t it?” The words jolted you from your thoughts, pulling your attention back to the sorcerer. “A few days and you’re almost as good as new.”

“And just to think you disgusting creatures can heal like that. I don’t understand why your kind have been given this ability and my family had to die.” A sneer pulled his upper lip back from his teeth. “But that is no matter. Soon I will discover what your healing stems from and I will be able to share it with the rest of the human race. No one will have to die needlessly.”

As he said this, he approached you, dagger still in his hand. A tear ran down your face but you didn’t move, too tired to muster the energy. Astarion traced your features with the dagger, your eyes closing as another tear slid down your face. “It’s a shame to ruin such a fine specimen; you have healed exceptionally well, little creature. I will let you rest for now, I need to look over my notes. I will visit you again tomorrow morning, not to worry.”

Suddenly he struck, burying the dagger in your stomach. Your breath left you as if punched, body curling to protect yourselves from any other blows. At your actions, or lack thereof, Astarion frowned.

“Hmm,” his eyes narrowed, “I thought for sure that would make you change.”

With his last remark, he stood and left your cell, leaving you lying on the floor, shivers wracking your body as the blood cooled beneath you. You reached a shaky hand down to press it against your stomach, hissing when the blade sliced your palm. You lay there for what felt like hours as the blood slowed, scabs starting to form around the wound. You grasped the hilt, yanking it out as you muffled a scream into your shoulder, pressing as hard as you could with both hands.

As the heaviness pressed in closer, you could feel the familiar warmth consume you. You went to it willingly, felt the world shift. You opened your eyes to see the world with sharper sight, heaving yourself to a standing position and yelping at the pull in your abdomen. You nosed at your side gently, seeing blood still glistening in your fur; the skin underneath was intact, although irritated and tender.

Lifting your head, you surveyed the room. The coppery scent of blood was strong, tinged with a bitter something underneath, of what you weren’t sure. You wrinkled your nose at it, not liking the smell. You took a hesitant step forward, feeling the slippery stones beneath your paws, coated in your blood. Your wounds pulled, but the pain was bearable. You began exploring the room, limping towards the edge of the room as your left shoulder protested the action.

It was rundown, an old castle that hadn’t seen occupants in decades. You had explored the surrounding area as a child before someone disappeared, after which your town kept well away from it. You knew that some of the outer walls had started falling apart, and hoped that this one was one of them.

Snuffling along the edge of the floor, you caught a whiff of fresh air. Darting towards it, you found a small hole in the wall, enough to allow a breeze into the room. You wouldn’t have noticed it had your senses not been enhanced.

Your heart sunk. There was no way you would fit through that whole, it was far too small for you. Closing your eyes, you nudged at the hole half-heartedly, despairing that you were so close to escaping, but not able to.

As you pushed, you felt some of the wall give way, a rush of air and dust filling the space. You ducked your head, rubbing your eyes on your leg in an attempt to remove the dust from them before observing the space. Although still not big enough, it was closer to your size now. Your heart lifted slightly as you ducked your head to push at the stones again, using your front paws to push the excess material out of the way.

Suddenly, your head pushed through the opening into the forest, your eyes rapidly adjusting to the change in light. It was dark out, a waxing crescent moon hung high in the sky providing little to no illumination.

Pulling yourself back in, you pushed the rest of the material aside, widening the hole enough for your small body to fit through. As you were finishing the opening, you heard footsteps coming down the hall. Shifting back, you slumped against the wall to hide the opening.

Vissen rounded the corner and stopped in front of your cell. You glared at him as you felt hatred bubbling up within you. This man was the reason you were here in the first place, his greed had driven him to do unspeakable things. He leered at you.

“Bet you are regretting rejecting me now, bitch.” Rage swept through you as you realized that he had done this as revenge. You schooled your features, the anger that was boiling within you threatening to spill over. “No words for me? I’m glad I didn’t take you as my wife now, a beast like you could never love anyone. You just maim and murder; I did the town a favour by ridding them of you.”

“You know nothing -” you cut yourself off, stopping your movement as you leaned towards him, hands itching to wrap around his throat.

“What do I not know?” he taunted.

When you didn’t respond, his smirk grew larger. Something sparked in his eyes. “Too tired to move, sweetheart?” Your skin crawled at his words. “Perhaps I will just have to help you.”

Moving slowly, he unlatched your cell, stalking towards where you sat motionless on the floor. Come a little bit closer, you bastard, and you’ll be able to help me so much more.

When he was within reach, you leapt, pulling at his arms, hands forcing him to the ground as you reached for this throat. In your weakened state, he quickly overcame you, rolling so that he was pinning you to the ground, hands on your shoulders, hot breath against your neck. “Even if you didn’t want me, I will still have you, my sweet.”

You squirmed as his hands roamed lower, tears burning in the back of your eyes. You fought desperately, reaching for the power within you, covering yourself with it like a blanket, body shrinking as you shifted. You sank your teeth into his hand, gripping as hard as you could, letting go when he started flailing, small body flying through the air to hit the wall. You yelped at the impact, pain flashing through you before you rolled to your feet, shaking your head to clear the fog.

He wailed, clutching his hand to his chest as he rolled to his knees. “You demon!” He froze as you regained your feet, a low growl rumbling out of your chest. “I’ll show you! Guards! Help! She’s changed, she’s - ack!”

At his words you leapt, aiming for his chest. Your weight knocked him to the ground, landing on his chest as you snarled, lips pulled back from your teeth. As Vissen flailed, you jumped forward and ripped his throat out with your teeth. The man slowly went still, gurgling as his death rattle left his chest.

You rolled off his body, going still as you stared at the man choking on his blood. You had killed someone. I didn’t mean to! Gods, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! Staggering to the side, your front legs collapsed as you retched, trying to rid yourself of the taste in your mouth.

Horrified at what you did, you backed away, eyes not leaving the body of the man you once knew. You could hear the shouts and footsteps getting closer. You turned, rushing towards the hole you had made, slipping out of it and disappearing into the night, the sounds of men rising behind you as the body was discovered and a search party organized. As you ran, you tried to forget the taste of copper on your tongue, forget the body you were leaving behind.

**~*~*~*~**

After Geralt had collapsed, Yennefer had insisted that they stop for the night. Geralt had protested at first, but gave in as more waves of pain washed over him. Jaskier had motherhenned the larger man for the rest of the evening, Ciri tucked into his side. Every once in a while Geralt would flinch, and Yennefer would stare at him with a knowing look. Geralt wouldn’t say anything, just staring back, a challenge in his face.

Once Jaskier and Ciri had fallen asleep, Yennefer gestured at Geralt, the two of them standing and moving a little farther from their fire.

“What’s her name?” Yennefer fixes him with a piercing look that said he better tell her what was going on or he wouldn’t like the consequences.

Geralt sighed, running a hand over his face. “Y/N.” His voice was pained, expression tight. “She was a healer that found me in the woods. I had been injured, ambushed by a monster, and when she healed me, she had a conduit moment. I stayed a few days to help her learn more about our kind.”

Yennefer stayed silent, marvelling at the softness that had crept into her companion’s eyes as he spoke. “She was kind, didn’t judge me for being a Witcher or for being a shapeshifter, even before she knew she was one. It was easy with her, it felt right to be with her.” He turned to Yennefer. “It wasn’t intentional, I just… It just happened.”

“You need to go find her.” Geralt started at Yennefer’s words. “This could harm both of you and something has clearly happened, I’ve seen you flinching all day. Don’t argue with me, Geralt.” She held a hand up as he opened his mouth to protest. “I need you at your best and you aren’t while you’re separated.”

His body slumped, a sigh escaping from between his lips. “Okay.” His response was quiet. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

Yennefer was surprised; she had expected Geralt to have put up more of a fight on this. This girl really was something if she could make Geralt listen, even when not present. “We will go tomorrow. We are not separating, Geralt, not this close to the sorcerer. I will not risk any of us.”

Geralt nodded as she turned back towards their camp. He followed her to the fire, laying down on his bedroll as his thoughts turned to you. Your face and voice filled his dreams that night; he could hear you calling out to him. Sleep did not come easily.

The next morning, Jaskier and Ciri were confused when Yennefer told them they were making a stop before they went to the keep where the sorcerer had been hiding, but quickly fell into step when she mentioned something about another shapeshifter. Geralt was even quieter than normal as they travelled, growing more tense the closer they got to their destination.

When Jaskier started singing, trying to amuse Ciri and annoy Yennefer, Geralt snapped at him to be quiet. When Ciri asked to ride with Geralt on Roach he pulled her up, but only grunted at her questions rather than answering them as he usually did. Realizing the severity of the matter, both Ciri and Jaskier fell quiet, their conversations subdued as they travelled.

It was dark when they arrived, the small pack finally turning a corner to see a little house set back in the woods. Geralt was flinching at anything that spooked him, Roach nervous beneath him, having picked up on her master’s emotions. Reaching the gate, he quickly dismounted, shoulders relaxing as the house appeared to be untouched. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he approached the door, knocking gently to alert you to his presence. “Y/N? It’s me, I’m back.”

“Y/N?” Jaskier whispered, turning to Yennefer. “Who is that?” Ciri popped her head out from behind him, curious as to the answer to her counterpart’s question.

As Yennefer opened her mouth to answer, they heard the sound of a body against wood, the door breaking beneath Geralt’s shoulder as he forced entry to the house, disappearing through the entrance. His three companions quickly ran after him, freezing in the doorway at the sight of Geralt. He was standing motionless in the middle of the trashed room, looking down at something in his hands. Tables and chairs were upturned, books scattered across the floor,

He turned slowly to look at them, a dagger that they recognized as the twin to his own held in his hands. His face was emotionless, but his eyes told a different story. His golden eyes were full of anguish, a storm of horror and guilt washing through them.

“Geralt?” Yennefer took a hesitant step forward, hand reaching out to do what, she wasn’t sure.

Geralt slowly sunk to the floor, staring at the dagger cradled gently in his hands. At the sound of Yennefer approaching, he lifted his head, face filled with fear.

“She’s gone.”

**~*~*~*~**

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