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honeydippedwaffles · 8 months

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Request: Our Intertwined Fates

Request Information: A set of possibly two or three parts surrounding one my mutual's favourite, non-companion characters in the game: Rolan. This in a look at how Rolan and Tav's relationship builds over the course of the story from a friendship to something more.

Tav is not referred to by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.1k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

The scent of rust mingled awfully with the flowering bushes surrounding the grove. Something felt wrong about strolling into such a place with goblin blood still drying on her armour and the cling of an abduction over her shoulders.

She did so regardless, muscles strung tight from a battle nearly lost and an argument she could scarcely defuse. Who knew helping somebody out would cause such trouble.

“We’re off to a great start,” she said to nobody in particular. “Barely free of some wretched pod and already we’re wrapped up in another conflict.”

Her companions and her had crashed into this isolated area of coastline just the very morning they stumbled into this grove. How they’d managed to get themselves involved in whatever impossible argument was occurring between tieflings and druids escaped her understanding.

“This really isn’t our business,” she admitted to them when they looked at her. “But I suppose if we’re going there anyway, the least we can do is talk to the head druid? It won’t do any harm.”

She lied to herself like that sometimes.

If somebody asked her for help, she’d never been able to turn them down. Offering her assistance felt negligible in the grand scheme of things and this conflict really seemed to have a solution she could find. It would help also, to have the grove’s knowledge on her side.

Those excuses really didn’t feel genuine when the threat of a tadpole behind her eyes lingered.

Yet despite having it in mind, when she overheard an argument, she couldn’t help herself but stop to listen. The trio of tieflings sounded so irritated with one another as they fought about whether they should remain with the group or forge their own path to the city. A fight they’d clearly gone over before if the exasperation said anything.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we don’t even know these people. I’m not sticking my neck out for every person we come across. With my magic, we have nothing to fear about the path to Baldur’s Gate as long as we leave now.”

“Just because we don’t know them doesn’t mean we should abandon them here. What use are all our spells and blades if we don’t even use them to help people.”

She listened curiously, not planning on interjecting but also wondering about the goal of Baldur’s Gate. Some things unfortunately rarely changed and she couldn’t help but worry for this group. “Does Baldur’s Gate welcome tieflings at all?”

Her question directed itself at nobody in particular and yet, she must have spoken loud enough for them to hear as the three all turned to her with various expressions of disinterest or appreciation. She shifted uncomfortably beneath their gazes and smiled to show she hadn’t meant to get involved.

“More so than other cities,” one of the tieflings answered. “Perhaps they’ll stare but nobody will pull a blade out. It doesn’t really matter either way because I’ll be welcomed. You’re speaking to the recently accepted apprentice of the great wizard Lorroakan.”

Tall, haughty, and certainly pretty enough to be a wizard rather than a fighter, she could tell he had a great deal of trust in what he said.

Maybe even too much.

Lorroakan sounded familiar but she couldn’t place why it felt wrong. A wizard certainly but not one whose name carried very good rumours alongside it. She could share what she knew but to do so felt wrong and so she smiled.

“Congratulations,” she urged. “You must certainly be very talented to earn yourself such a grand apprenticeship.”

“I assure you, I am.”

“Then it sounds as though your help could be invaluable to these people who are blessed with neither magic nor fighting skill.” Her gaze drifted to where children and others attempted to spar with sloppily created training dummies. “Honestly, I believe they’ll need all the help they can get.”

He frowned; caught in the small trap she’d created through his own confidence. She felt a little bad for taking advantage of his arrogance but she hadn’t been lying when she commented on the tieflings.

They probably wouldn’t survive a day against the goblins.

“That’s what I’ve been saying. We have to stay and help.”

The wizard looked between her and the others before he threw his hands up in agitation. “Fine but if we end up rotting on a road because of this, it’ll all be your fault.”

He stormed off and she glanced awkwardly at the others. Perhaps she had overestimated their skills but she doubted their chances even more if they split from the group and tried to do it alone.

But if they died, the weight would never lift from her shoulders.

“Thank you for intervening. Rolan can get obnoxiously stubborn at times but he’s a good person. He’d have regretted choosing to leave later.”

She laughed awkwardly, unsure how to respond beyond offering her name as a means of introduction before hurrying off. They had so many problems to face, far more dangerous than even taking on a slew of unending goblins. Such a thing could wait until after the worm got removed.

One poisoning later and another child rescued and they took on the very task she’d tried to avoid, regardless of Astarion’s unimpressed complaints about it.

They ended up fighting through a, quite frankly, impossible number of goblins after rescuing a massive druid from the dungeons. Followed it with a battle against shadow druids who were disguising themselves as rats. And then still ended up standing exhausted at a party with the blood not fully washed from her hair.

As tired as she was, she couldn’t skulk away into her tent so early into the night. Everybody wanted to speak to her and she was now avoiding Lae’zel as best she could after the gith caught her off-guard with the strangest proposition she’d ever heard. Flattered, but uninterested, she looked around for help and eventually caught Lia’s eyes.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Rolan’s going to put on a show for us,” Lia told her, excited and a little teasing. She, like many of the others, appeared a little tipsy as she gestured to her brother. “Watch.”

“Patience,” Rolan chided. “You have no respect for showmanship.”

“Performance issues,” Cal whispered to her and she laughed behind a palm despite the wizard’s glare.

After all the near misses with fireballs through the day though… well, she really hoped whatever magic he wanted to use involved snow or water. Anything she didn’t have to dodge.

He surprised her pleasantly with neither and the small cascade of dancing lights lit up the sky in pretty shades of blue. She’d seen children do similar magic when first learning of their abilities and it never failed to make her smile.

“He can also make them purple,” Cal told her proudly.

She politely clapped and tried to keep her expression supportive of the tiefling trio. Rolan had skill enough to make something of himself in Baldur’s Gate… if his tutor held up to his expectations.

And, of course, the group had to get there first but she had faith. Zevlor, if nobody else, looked well equipped to shield his group from danger.

“You’ll do brilliantly with the proper training,” she complimented when she noticed Rolan’s gaze hover over her for a second longer. “You can ask Gale about some spare scrolls we found while exploring. They may come in use during your travels.”

Rolan straightened his spine beneath the praise, pleased with his successful show. “I have no need for scrolls but I thank you for the offer.”

She laughed and raised her glass to him. “If you say so. The offer still stands.”

She bid the three siblings good luck with their further travel and stepped away to clear her head, finally seeing an opportunity to seek peace and quiet. The shadows provided some solace as she made her way into the forest.

When she came across a small clearing, she settled on a log. It had been a long day filled with unending waves of enemies and her eyes felt heavier than ever.

She’d almost drifted off when she heard footsteps behind her. Footsteps, clumsy and unused to stalking through the dark. At least she knew it not to be an assassin, she imagined.

Although she’d expected Karlach or Gale rather than the tiefling she saw.

“Rolan?” she asked, confused as to why the wizard had followed her and now hovered uncomfortably at the edge of the clearing.

“Lia made a very good point,” he said, straightening imaginary creases from his robes as he spoke. “Scrolls could be useful if we get into a situation where my magic is lacking.”

She frowned for a second before she remembered her offer and waved back at the party with a smile. “Oh, right. Those are with Gale or one of the others. I don’t know what spells they have but any magic is useful, right?”

“Obviously but they’re mainly for Lia’s peace of mind. I don’t think we’ll have any problems when I have my thunderwave to handle threats.”

She smiled. “I’m sure. Make certain to aim for the nearest cliff.”

A wince followed as she remembered shoving a goblin from one of the rafters earlier in the day. She hadn’t appreciated the crunch of bones or the smear of blood… she hadn’t cleared out a goblin camp before the day and it really didn’t suit her.

“With any hope, you’ll have no need of spells at all,” she said. “I think the path to Baldur’s Gate should be open.”

“If it wasn’t, I don’t think they’d be singing your praises so highly,” he scoffed.

He took a few seconds to place the strange jealousy in his voice as not related to handling the goblin camp but rather the heroism of it. Strange, she’d never thought of a battle as something to be envious of. She certainly left with a great deal of pain in her ribs to show for it and little else.

“Something wrong?” she asked, fixing him with a soft gaze.

Rolan shrugged but she noticed the way his tail flicked, irritated, back and forth. He watched everything besides herself, not truly meeting her eyes as he gazed around the clearing.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just hoping you haven’t given my siblings any ridiculous notions about going off and being a hero. They’re not the type to walk through a goblin camp with no problem.”

She smiled, understanding his concerns. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. It’s not about being a hero, it’s about giving help where it’s needed and… I suppose it was selfish too. I needed a healer and Halsin was my only option.”

“A healer?” he repeated, gaze lingering over her bruises. “Did he manage to fix whatever’s wrong with you?”

Her heart thudded a little and her stomach sank. He hadn’t been able to do anything for her. Halsin pointed her in a direction and promised to help but he couldn’t remove the tadpole from her head. Every day, she ended up closer than ever to becoming a creature from her worst nightmares and she could do nothing.

Honestly, it may have contributed more to her mood surrounding the party than the actual exhaustion had.

“No, then?” Rolan asked.

She shook her head and tried to shake free of the worries. “Unfortunately, my condition goes a bit beyond his talents but he did give me a way forward. We’re heading toward Moonrise Towers to look for answers.”

‘You don’t sound confident.”

“It’s hard to be sometimes,” she admitted. “But I don’t really have much of a choice in what I do next.”

He coughed, a little awkward as he shifted his weight from side to side. “Well, I mean you’re clearly more than capable of handling things. I’m sure getting to wherever will be easy enough for your little group of heroes.”

She laughed at the unexpected and strange praise. “Thank you, Rolan.”

He nodded and seemed about to turn around and leave so she stood and the movement momentarily froze him. She leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to cheek in thanks.

“You’re going to do great with your studies,” she said. “I’ll be sure to brag to everyone I know once your name becomes renowned.”

Somebody once told her tieflings couldn’t blush but she swore she saw colour darken the tops of his cheeks even in the dim light of the forest.

Taglist: @miwn8

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan/tav

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alien--writes · 2 months

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Because this man has me in a chokehold, I had to write something. It was out of my control.

#bg3 rolan #Rolan/Tav #Baldur's Gate 3 #Rolan/Tav fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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pikapeppa · 2 months

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Rolan/Tav romance: Someone Great

In sum: a friends-to-lovers Rolan/f!Tav fic from Rolan's POV, with eventual rated E smut and mild angst with a happy ending.

Current word count: 36k words across 4 chapters, likely 7 in total.

First chapter (prologue) is below; you can find the rest here on AO3. ❤

************

For as long as Rolan could remember, what he wanted most in the world was to be a great wizard.

It started when he was eight, with a dusty and faded book he found under a bed while his mother was cleaning someone’s house. He brought the book home with them that day; it didn’t look like anyone wanted it, and Rolan had never heard of ‘transmutation’ before, and it sounded neat. His mother threw the fit of all fits when she realized that he’d stolen from a client, but she allowed him to keep the book — it wasn’t like she could return it without looking like a bloody thief, she complained — and as Rolan painstakingly worked his way through the tome, he realized what he wanted to be when he grew up: he wanted to be a wizard. Not just any wizard, but a wizard great enough to perform every single spell in this book. He wanted to be able to pull on the Weave with the ease of tugging a loose thread on the cuff of a shirt. He wanted to be able to do amazing feats of magic, amazing enough that Mother wouldn’t be so mad at him anymore.

So he started learning. He read that book cover to cover until he had most of it memorized. He practiced from it faithfully, working his way from the easy spells to the trickier ones. And on the day when he succeeded at turning a jug of water into wine, the smile on his mother’s face made it clear that this was his destiny. He was meant to be a great wizard, a wizard whose feats of magic made him useful and impressive, and from that moment on, he knew that a great wizard was exactly what he was meant to be.

Then Mother disappeared.

Rolan never did find out what happened to her, exactly. Ran away because she got sick of him, the kids at school would say, but he overheard a couple of the teachers whispering a rumour that her body was found in the alley next to a pub in the Dock District. Either way, Mother was gone, Mister Matheson who owned the house said Rolan couldn’t live there anymore, and all he had was that book. That book of magic, the book that he believed would lead him to greatness: it became the only thing standing between him and starvation.

Instead of practicing the more complicated spells after school, he used the simpler ones to put on street-shows for coin, and he used the coin he got to fill his belly as best as he could. As he sat on the curb eating runny vegetable soup and scraps of bread, he would remind himself that one day, when he was grown, he would be great. He would learn every spell in his book of transmutation, and he would find the best archmage in the city and become their apprentice. And then, with a real teacher to look after him and a whole entire library at his disposal, he would become the great wizard he was meant to be — great enough to prove to this whole city that he was more than just a show-offy street rat with a few cute tricks up his sleeve.

Then he met Cal and Lia.

He was ten when it happened. They were new to Elturel, and they loved his magic show. Little Cal gasped with delight and clapped at his every trick, and Lia beamed at him and called for an encore when his show was done. At the end of the show, they gave him enough coin that he was able to buy some stew with actual meat in it, and when he curled up in an alley with his threadbare blanket that night, his stomach wasn’t cramping with hunger for once.

The next day, Cal and Lia came back to see his show again, and they brought their mother Lana with them. Lana gave him so much coin that he was able to treat himself to a roast chicken dinner that night, complete with mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables and a loaf of fresh-baked bread: a meal so rich that he threw up half of it within ten minutes of scarfing it down.

The day after that, they came to see his show again, and Lana asked if he wanted to join them for dinner at their house that night. Despite his nagging feeling of too-good-to-be-true, he cautiously agreed. The shepherd’s pie Lana made was the best food he had ever eaten in his life, and the grown-up’s sweater they lent him was the coziest thing he’d ever worn. And right there, at the dinner table, with a full belly and Cal and Lia chattering beside him, Rolan fell asleep.

The visits went on like this for some time: daily visits from Lana and Lia and Cal followed by dinners at their home, which became the shining moments of his days. Then, after a few weeks, something wonderful happened: Lana invited him to come home with them and stay.

For the first time in over a year, Rolan had a home — a new home and a family, a mum and a brother and sister. And he knew why he’d been gifted with these things: it was because he had the makings of a great wizard. He was talented and bright, smart enough to manipulate the Weave with only the guidance of his treasured book of transmutation, and that was why they’d taken him in. That was why Cal and Lia liked him, and that was why Lana — Mum — had invited him to stay. They could see that he was going to be great, and there was no way he was going to disappoint them by being anything less. He would be a great wizard someday, as great as Elminster himself, and he would prove to them that they hadn’t made a mistake by bringing him home and calling him ‘big brother’ and ‘son’.

So he kept learning magic. He studied on his own after school, buying more books of magic over the years and memorizing them and mastering their techniques. He researched the most famous archmages alive and decided that Lorroakan would be the ideal fit for a mentor, and he wrote Lorroakan several careful letters listing his achievements and requesting the chance to become an apprentice. He practiced his spellcasting in his spare time, abjuring and evoking and enchanting in private and showing off the flashier spells for Cal and Lia and Mum. And when Cal gasped in delight and clapped, when Lia smiled and asked for an encore, when Mum hugged him and kissed his forehead and told him she was proud, he knew he was on the right track. He was talented and special, well on his way to becoming the great wizard that his family expected him to be, and nothing was going to get in the way of his goals.

Then Mum died.

He was eighteen when it happened. Within a week of her passing, their landlord, Madame Giselle, threatened to evict them if they couldn’t make the rent, and Rolan refused to let that happen. Cal was only twelve, a mere two years older than Rolan when he’d lost his mother, and Rolan refused to see him sleeping on the street like he’d once done. Lia was fourteen, just barely old enough to leave school and start working, but Rolan refused to let her give up her education at such a young age. And so, with no small amount of bitterness, he left his last year of school and put his magical studies aside, and he found a job instead.

He went to work at a tailor’s shop, offering his magical talents for the petty purposes of sewing perfect straight seams in a fraction of the time. As he sewed seams and ironed pleats and cut lengths of fabric into the shapes of fabulous robes that he couldn’t afford, he fantasized about how someday, he would be great. He was talented and smart, a self-made wizard who had already mastered the contents of two dozen books on evocation and transmutation and even the trickier discipline of conjuration, and when the great Lorroakan finally recognized his talents, Rolan would have the tutelage and the opportunity to become a great wizard, too. He would become famous for his talents, a wizard of wide renown with such skills that people would pay thousands of gold for his magical solutions to the most esoteric problems. He would use his fortune and power to buy his family a house, a huge incredible house with three big bedrooms and all the best furnishings, and Cal and Lia would never have to worry about going homeless or hungry ever again.

Years went by. Cal and Lia finished school and started working, and Lia told Rolan to stop working and go back to his studies so he would stop moaning about being a great wizard every single day. But Rolan couldn’t just stop working. Costs of living were going up every year, and even with all three of them working, they were just making enough to be comfortable. If Rolan quit his job, they would barely make ends meet, and he refused to see Cal and Lia struggle like he once had. He was responsible for them, for making sure they had the life they would’ve had if Mum was still with them, and he couldn’t just stop working altogether, even though his job was a bloody waste of time that took him away from what really mattered: his magical studies.

After months of arguing with Lia and cajoling from Cal, Rolan finally agreed to taking one day off per week. And with the boon of that spare day, he was able to think again about his great purpose in life. He took up his self-studies once more and made inroads on the tomes he’d been forced to put aside when Mum died. He wrote to Lorroakan again and requested the chance for an apprenticeship. He kept working at the damned tailor’s shop, but for the first time in almost ten years, he had hope — real, tangible hope that he could get back on track to becoming what he was always meant to be: a great wizard who got the recognition he deserved for how talented and brilliant he was, and who could use those talents and brilliance to make sure Cal and Lia had everything they ever wanted.

Finally, when he was twenty-eight, Rolan finally got the chance he’d deserved all this time: Lorroakan wrote him back and offered him an apprenticeship. That night when Cal and Lia got home from work, he told them the incredible news, and over a celebratory meal and a couple bottles of wine, they started making plans to move to Baldur’s Gate within the month.

Then Elturel fell into Avernus, and everything literally went to hell.

Their house was destroyed in the fall, and they lost nearly everything, including Rolan’s treasured library of magic tomes. Their neighbours turned on them, calling them devilspawn and refusing them shelter, and it was all Rolan could do to use arcane shields and mage-armour and invisibility spells to get them out of Elturel alive. They ran into Zevlor, who was leading a bunch of refugees to Baldur’s Gate for a fresh start, and through chance and lack of choice, they ended up travelling with them on the way to Baldur’s Gate.

But things went from bad to worse. News trickled in about some bloody goblin army, and when they ran afoul of a scouting party of goblins, they had to beg for refuge at the Emerald Grove. The archdruid Halsin immediately gave them shelter, but then Halsin went off on some quest or other and didn’t come back, and the druids’ second-in-command Kagha started threatening to throw them out.

Rolan was furious. Just when things were starting to look up for him, just when things were starting to finally look like he could give Cal and Lia the life they deserved, things had to go to shit. He had an apprenticeship to get to, a fucking life that he’d been aiming for since he was eight years old and that he’d been forced to put off time and time again, and he was not going to let a bunch of bloody goblins get in his way of getting to Baldur’s Gate.

But Lia didn’t want to leave the refugees behind. She wanted to stay with them, to risk her life and Cal’s to protect a bunch of strangers that they didn’t even know, and Rolan lost his temper. They got into an argument, the worst they’d ever had — and that was when they met her.

Her name was Tavanah: “call me Tav,” she said. She was a half-elf rogue from Baldur’s Gate with the oddest ragtag group of companions imaginable, and Rolan did not like her.

She was nosy, stepping into his argument with Lia and making him feel like he had no choice but to stay and protect the refugees. She had an annoying calmness about her that made Rolan feel like he was being overly dramatic when he absolutely was not. And most irritatingly of all, she got things done, and she did it quickly. She made that Kagha woman let Arabella go, and she went to the goblin camp and killed the goblin pack’s leaders and got Halsin freed. And for some reason that Rolan just couldn’t put his finger on, Tav’s heroism rubbed him the wrong way. Who in the hells did she think she was, interfering with his family? They were his responsibility, not hers. He’d been protecting them and providing for them since he was eighteen years old, and he’d gotten them safely out of Elturel all on his own with only his magical talents to thank. He didn’t need the interference of some busybody rogue and her weird friends to keep his own bloody family safe and sound, thank you very much.

Then, while travelling through the shadow-cursed lands with Zevlor and the others, they ran afoul of the damned cultists, and Cal and Lia were taken.

It happened faster than he could even fathom. One second, he was throwing a shield over the kids with one hand and flinging magic missiles with the other. The next thing he knew, Lia was screaming his name while she and Cal got dragged away into the dark.

It was the last bloody straw. Rolan was supposed to protect his siblings and kept them safe; what the fuck else did he have all of these talents and power for? What use was he if he wasn’t able to protect this own fucking family? But he’d failed at protecting them, he’d failed, and now they were gone. Cal and Lia were gone, and he was alone — he was alone, all alone, and he deserved this. He’d failed them, he was no use to them, he didn’t deserve a family, and that’s why he was alone. He wasn’t great at all. He wasn’t special or talented or worthy of an apprenticeship with someone like Lorrokoan. He had failed to keep his family safe, the one singular most important thing he was meant to do, and being alone and curled up at the bottom of a bottle was exactly where he deserved to be.

Then Tav showed up at the Last Light Inn.

As soon as he saw her, Rolan realized something: this wasn’t his fault, not really. It was Tav’s. Cal and Lia were gone because of her. If she hadn’t talked them into staying with Zevlor and the others, this wouldn’t have happened. If he and Cal and Lia had left on their own, he wouldn’t have been distracted protecting the kids; he would have put all of his skills and energy into keeping Cal and Lia safe, and they would still be together now. But Tav had interfered, sticking her nose into things and talking him into playing the bloody fucking hero, and because of her, Cal and Lia were gone.

He told her as much — as least, he thought he did, though things were kind of blurry at that point. And then she had the gall to tell him he shouldn’t give up hope, and that she would go to rescue Lia and Cal with her friends.

Rolan was furious. How dare this woman, this stranger, make it seem like he was some coward who didn’t have the stones or the skills to save his siblings on his own? How dare she make it sound like he was giving up? He wasn’t giving up by sitting here drinking. He was just — he… Well, he wasn’t bloody well giving up, not on Cal and Lia, not ever. And to prove her wrong, to prove that he was worth the trust that Mum had put in him all those years ago by taking him in, he went to save Cal and Lia on his own. He was more than able to do this, after all; he was skilled and brilliant, a self-taught prodigy well on his way to becoming great, and he was more than capable of bringing Cal and Lia back all by his bloody self.

But the shadows were too much. He got overwhelmed by them within half an hour of leaving the Last Light Inn, and as the shades and the undead crept in, so too did the terror. Was this really how he was going to go down? Here in the shadows, failed by the only talents he had while Cal and Lia were in trouble somewhere: was this really how it was going to end? He couldn’t let it end this way, he couldn’t. He couldn’t — Cal and Lia, he needed them — no, they needed him, they were probably so fucking scared, and he needed to stay alive for them, for them…

Then Tav showed up with her party in tow, and they saved his life.

Again, Rolan was absolutely furious. Not only were his talents not enough to save himself, but Tav and her friends had witnessed him being… not enough. They had seen him being useless and pathetic and scared, and worst of all, he was forced to admit that he couldn’t save Lia and Cal on his own — an admission that felt worse than chewing cut glass.

At Tav’s calm suggestion, he went back to Last Light with his horns hung low to wait for news of Lia and Cal. And later that very same day, the pair of them came wandering into the inn through the back door.

Their clothes were stained, and their faces and hands were smeared with dirt, but otherwise, they were no worse for wear. And for some reason that Rolan couldn’t even understand, the sight of them both blessedly unharmed made him see red. Here he was, marinating in a horrible miasma of fear and worry and shame, and they both dared to stroll back into the inn looking grimy but unharmed?

He blew up at them. Lia exploded back at him, and Cal tried to calm them down, which just made Rolan even angrier. Then bloody Tav walked through the tavern’s back door with that irritatingly calm look on her face, and she told Cal and Lia how much of a wreck Rolan had been without them both.

For a split second, Rolan was murderously enraged. How dare this woman talk about him to his own siblings as though she knew him? How fucking dare she? But then something truly mad happened: Lia deflated like a balloon and apologized to him.

Lia actually apologized to him — something that she almost never did. And Rolan suddenly felt like he was going to burst into tears. In that moment, he realized something with crystal clarity — something he should have realized ages ago: it didn’t matter how his siblings made it to safety, just that they were safe. Being a great wizard didn’t mean shit-all without the people who made him want to be great, and those people were Lia and Cal. And as irritating as it was to admit it, the person who helped him understand all of this was Tav.

As much as it humbled him to admit, he was… grateful to Tav for the clarity that her help afforded.

Over the next week, as the Elturians waited for the all-clear to move on from Last Light, Rolan spent a lot of time thinking about Tav. She didn’t know him or his family, but she’d gone out of her way time and time again to help them — not just them, but all of the refugees, and the druids and Harpers and gnomes to boot. She’d done all of those good deeds without expecting anything in return, and she’d done them all with that cool-as-a-cucumber demeanour she had. And the more Rolan thought about her, the more he realized something rather annoying. He wasn’t just grateful to Tav; he admired her, too. There, he’d admit it: he found her impressive, almost like a role model of sorts, or like… Ugh, he couldn’t believe he was thinking about her in this way, but as a hero. Silly though it felt to be a grown man thinking of someone this way, Tav reminded him of stories about folk heroes of old, and he found himself thinking about that more and more as he, Cal, Lia, and the refugees finally left the no-longer-shadow-cursed lands behind. Tav was a person whose actions weren’t just great, but… good, too. And this was what Rolan spent a lot of time thinking about as they made their way from Last Light to Baldur’s Gate.

As they drew closer to Baldur’s Gate, though, his excitement started taking over his thoughts. He was so close now, so close to the thing he’d been waiting for his entire life: the chance to finally be what he was meant to be. Here in Baldur’s Gate, with Lorroakan’s skills and guidance, Rolan was finally going to become a great wizard. He was finally going to learn the kinds of advanced magical theory and techniques that he’d never had the time or coin to learn before. He was going to make a name for himself, to prove that he was worth the affection and trust that Mum and Cal and Lia had given him over the years, and everything would finally fall into place.

Then he actually met Lorroakan.

He couldn’t tell Cal and Lia the truth, not after everything they’d been through to get here. So he told them that Lorroakan wouldn’t allow them to stay at the tower, and he found lodgings for them at the Elfsong with Alfira and Lakrissa so they wouldn’t see what Lorroakan was doing to him. He endured the beatings and the insults and being ordered around like a whipped dog, and he told himself that if he just stuck it out and kept his head down, he would finally get his chance. He’d find a way to access the secret cellar where the rare tomes were kept, and he’d learn everything he’d been deprived of for all these damned years. He just had to endure it a little longer; he couldn’t give up. Not now, not after everything he’d done to get this far, not after dragging Cal and Lia all this way. He couldn’t let it all be in vain — he simply couldn’t. He would get his chance at greatness, he just knew he would — as long as he didn’t give up.

Then Tav and her friends showed up at Sorcerous Sundries, because of course they did. And with one look at his face, he could see the truth of his shameful situation reflected in the darkening of her jade-green eyes.

She visited Lorroakan briefly, then came back from the tower looking like thunder and stormed out of the shop. And not long after that, an actual honest-to-gods aasimar showed up.

That was how Rolan found out that Lorroakan’s coveted Nightsong was a person — not an artifact, but a living, breathing person. And Lorroakan’s plan all this time had been to imprison her forever.

There in the Tower of Ramazith, with Lorroakan on one side and Tav on the other, Rolan made his biggest realization yet: he realized who he really wanted to be. He didn’t want to be a great wizard, not if being ‘great’ meant being anything like Lorroakan. What he wanted was to be good, like Tav. He might not be great like her, but he could be good, and that had to start right now.

So he turned on Lorroakan. He fought alongside Dame Aylin and Tav and her friends, and in so doing, he helped to set himself free.

Free. Rolan was free — and he was free in every sense of the word. With Lorroakan dead, with the ownership of Ramazith’s tower and Sorcerous Sundries now in his hands, Rolan was free to have the life he had always wanted. He had a home now — a permanent home, one that really belonged to him and Lia and Cal. He had an entire wizard’s tower full of knowledge to explore. And at long last, after everything that he’d suffered and overcome, he finally had the chance to be… not great, or not just great, but the chance to be… something more. And as Rolan stood there in Ramazith’s tower, watching Tav comforting Dame Aylin while her friends chatted and cleaned off their weapons and armour, he saw the truth: Tav was a perfect example of what ‘something more’ could really be.

For as long as Rolan could remember, what he wanted most in the world was to be a great wizard. But now, he knew there was more to life than that. Life was more than being the best, and it was more than having the world recognize how great you were. Being great didn’t mean anything at all without the people who inspired you to greatness, and the ones who inspired Rolan the most were Cal, Lia — and a certain green-eyed, cool-as-a-cucumber half-elf rogue from Baldur’s Gate.

Read the rest here on AO3.

#rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan baldur's gate 3 #rolan/tav #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav/rolan #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate fic #pikapeppa writes

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gothastarion · 5 months

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#rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 oc #baldurs gate 3 oc #bg3 tav #tav #the dark urge #dark urge #durge #durge bg3 #bg3 durge #rolan x oc #rolan x tav #rolan/oc #rolan/tav

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tealfling · 29 days

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Tiefling me/Coren: *boop'n Rolan with our tail until he snaps and gives us attention*

#bg3 rolan #rolan fanfic #rolan #rolan baldur's gate 3 #rolan brainrot #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan romance #bg3 rolan x tav #bg3 rolan x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan/tav #rolanites #holy rolan empire #bg3 tieflings #tav x rolan #rolan fanart #boop #tiefling boops

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evillittlebirdie · 7 months

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Refuge: Tav/Rolan

Lia and Cal deserved better.

One day, they would have it. Lia and Cal could have stability and the resources to pursue if Rolan could provide for them. Most importantly, Rolan needed to protect them. And not let some flitting hero come in to save the day. Instead of Rolan, Tav was the one to save his siblings from Moonrise Towers. Tav even saved Rolan when he went out on his own. How he hated that sweet, clueless look on her face when he lashed out at her. That damn, lovable, dashing rogue did what Rolan couldn't do and she did it without breaking a sweat.

And if Rolan needed to go through Lorroakan's education to ensure his competency, then he would.

***

"Wrong."

But Rolan knew he was right.

"Master, I do not mean to disagree with you, but-"

Lorroakan raised his hand, and a sudden gust of wind left his hand. Rolan lost his footing and fell on the floor. His head hit the wood, causing a sudden ache. Lorroakan walked over to him, standing over the tiefling. "Now, I'll ask you again. What can disable an animated armor?"

"Sussar Bloom," Rolan replied breathlessly. Even if Tav hadn't regaled her story of exploring the Underdark, he would have known sussar bloom was the correct answer.

"Wrong," Lorroakan repeated. Lorroakan delivered a vile, physical kick to Rolan's ribs. He could feel the trauma spreading along his side. Rolan let out a cry before scrambling to his knees. That was a foolish move.

Once Rolan moved to his hands and knees, Lorroakan stepped on Rolan's left hand. Rolan hissed in response. Each move to pull his hand away caused Lorroakan to dig deeper into the extremity.

"If you scratch my floor with your claws, I will personally rip every one of them out," Lorroakan threatened darkly. Rolan stopped moving, keeping as still as a statue.

"I am your Master. And I am always correct. If I say the sky is purple, then it is purple. If I say that you are a pathetic tiefling, then you are not fit to lick my boots," Lorroakan pontificated, twisting his heel more and more into Rolan's hand.

"Master," Rolan struggled to speak despite his aching head, bruised ribs, and trapped hand. "I only just-"

Lorroakan interrupted him, "I don't recall asking you a question. I merely reiterated the reality of your situation. If you have an issue with my teaching methods, you can leave. You can hawk cheap magical items and whore out cantrips like the pathetic performers in the street. I'm very sure that you'll support your family that way."

The facetiousness of Lorroakan's words dripped like venom from a snake. Lorroakan moved his boot from Rolan's hand. Instantly, Rolan stretched out his fingers and wrist. He could barely move. The pain shot from his dorsal up to his elbow.

"You're welcome to resign if you don't want to be my apprentice. And you'll be just another refugee in this city taking up space," Lorroakan said, stepping back from Rolan. He gestured toward the study's door, "There is the exit. Go, and you'll be free. And I'll see to it no other wizard on the Sword Coast will take you on. You'll be lucky to find a job sorting scrolls in a library. However, if you decide to stop being a brat, you can get started on reading and memorizing the fifth volume of Fringe Philosophy."

Rolan's eyes darted to the door and then to Lorroakan. The wizard had walked away, leaving Rolan on the ground. He walked to his desk and sat down. There was no further direction.

Lorroakan didn't need him. There was a line of eager apprentices willing to subject themselves to his methods. Rolan was replacable. And Lorroakan knew that. Rolan swallowed bile and his pride. He stood up on his feet and ignored the stars in his peripheral vision. He walked over to the bookshelf to pull out the book and started reading.

***

Rolan should have met Cal and Lia for dinner hours ago. The night was pitch black and most shops were closed for the day. Rolan had been in Baldur's Gate long enough to know his way through the streets. The alleyways were dangerous, but private. He didn't have to hear the words of anyone passing by. He could lean his body against the stone wall and concentrate on the throbbing sensation on his belly. His fingers ran down his side, wincing as even the featherlight touch grazed the spot where Lorroakan kicked him.

Lia and Cal were worried about him. And yet Rolan could not bring himself to face them.

The drunks were stumbling on their way home. The barkeepers were hollering, "Last call!". Sex workers had claimed their clients. Thieves had successfully stolen their quota from witless victims.

Rolan traveled through the streets, subconsciously rubbing his wounded hand with his healthy one. He couldn't face his siblings. Yet he could not return to the tower.

"There you are!"

Rolan pulled his staff off his back, putting himself in a battle-ready stance. Anyone who approached him in the middle of the night in an alleyway was looking for trouble. But instead, he came face to face with Tav's cheerful, pleased expression. Rolan could not control his reaction. He jumped back from Tav's body, almost knocking himself back into the alleyway. "Must you always sneak up on people?" Rolan asked, stilling his rapidly beating heart. He returned his staff to his back.

"I was worried you'd run off or something. You don't exactly like me," Tav stated bluntly, looking over the man.

Rolan swallowed uncomfortably. It wasn't that he didn't...like Tav. He just wished she would mind her own business. And stop showing him up. Otherwise, she was lovely.

Now, where did that adjective come from?

"Cal and Lia asked me to find you. You were supposed to have dinner with them about eight hours ago," Tav pointed out, shifting on her feet.

"Well, you can tell them I am fine. I just...I was busy," Rolan gave a poor excuse, knowing that Lia and Cal would give him an earful when they finally got him alone in a room.

"Ah, yes, busy hanging out in alleyways. Not even a nice alleyway. This one smells like piss. Don't tell me you're searching for ingredients for potions or whatever magic crap you wizards do," Tav rambled on, her eyes still on Rolan.

That would have been a much better excuse.

"Can't a man walk around a city? It's not like I was in any danger," Rolan commented, lashing out in self-defense.

"No, we just have a serial killer roaming the streets. Other than that, Baldur's Gate is as safe as a garden meadow," Tav replied sarcastically. But her sarcasm was not biting. It was in jest. She gave Rolan a small smile, "Look, I know you can take care of yourself-"

"You must not. Given your rescue mission in the Shadowlands," Rolan pointed out.

"Noted. The next time we find ourselves surrounded by shadows, I will wait patiently until you ask for my help," Tav stated, rolling her eyes playfully. She was still smiling. How could she still be smiling? "I'll just relay to your siblings that I found you and you're okay. And I'll leave you to..." She looked around the alleyway before setting her hands on her hips, "Whatever...sulking...wizard...male...tiefling shit you are busying yourself with." She avoided eye contact with Rolan before she commented, "You know...if you ever wanted company on these...brooding outings, I'm free."

Thoroughly insulted, Rolan responded bitingly, "I don't need a bodyguard."

Tav huffed frustratedly, "Not as a bodyguard, you ass. As a friend, a companion. Maybe someone who would guide you away from the alleyway and to a restaurant instead. At least the smell of piss comes from the beer. For an intelligent man, you are an idiot."

Rolan quite had it with being humiliated. "I don't have to stand here and listen to you berate me. Maybe that's why I want to be on my own," Rolan snapped before walking by Tav, leaving her behind in the alleyway. As he took a few steps, he mulled over what she said to him. 'away from an alleyway and to a restaurant instead'. He frowned, bemused, before turning back to Tav.

Rolan smiled, amused, at the sight of Tav already beginning to climb the walls of the alleyway. She was taking her leave.

"What did you mean exactly, by taking me to a restaurant?" Rolan inquired.

Tav paused her hand on the shingle of the nearby roof. She stared down at Rolan, her smile now returning to her face. "You know...you and I haven't had a proper conversation. I thought forever that you hated me."

Rolan could feel his cheeks warm, "I...I don't hate you."

"Well, I know that now. Your siblings made that clear."

Rolan fully blushed now. Cal and Lia teased him mercilessly. Whenever Rolan muttered about Tav, they giggled. They called it 'schoolboy love'.

"That's why I suggested a restaurant. We could have a proper conversation. And if you don't like me, then at least you get a meal out of it. My treat," Tav offered, now swinging her body back and forth on the edge of the roof. There had to be a story behind Tav's comfort with Baldur's Gate.

"Well, I suppose that we could..."

"I'll take that as a yes!" Tav called out, her voice loud with excitement. "It's a date. I'll pick you up from the tower tomorrow. No backing out. It's a date," She beamed before hopping up on the roof. And within seconds she disappeared into the night.

Between the events of the day and night, Rolan was swimming with emotions. Maybe it was some rational part of him that allowed him to smile. He rubbed his hand again. The pain had lessened. He would be able to write with it soon. Rolan could only hope to please Lorroakan and be free by the time Tav arrived for their date.

Wait...

What...

"...A date?"

#whumptober 2023 #no.7 #“I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”#radio silence #alleyway #“can you hear me?”#bg3 #rolan/tav #abuse tw #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 rolan

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jamesdeniscouldnever · 6 months

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A little blurb, cause cyberpunk is updating.

Soft Rolan x tav headcannons

So to start out, I think it goes without saying that the only people in his life he's soft for is Lia, Cal and, after much warming up and pining, Tav.

And on the note of pining, it's such a mix of his usual pissy self and ever so soft moments.

When they're having their usual moments it's a lot of teasing and rolan whining cause he wants tavs attention. ("You! Look at the new effect I've added to my Thunderwave! Tav. Tav! Look!") ("I love Lia and Cal more than my own life, but must they accompany us to the market every time? What do you mean you can go alone, no I'm coming with you.")

But those softer moments? The setting sun shining through the windows of the tower, Tav relaxing and playing a game of cards with Lia and Cal while Rolan reads one of his mant tomes?

And he just looks up at them and. Oh.

Oh he feels so content. His family is there, Tav included even if they aren't yet his family in the way he would LIKE (husband/wife ehem.)

You know the soft, pleased little "hmmm" he makes when you say you'll leave him to his study after killing lorroakin? That little sound embodies his true feelings for Tav.

Once they're in an established relationship its a whole different game. Man is WHIPPED but will vehemently deny it to anyone who pokes fun.

"Darling,you needn't spend so long cleaning that blade, I can help." "Dearest, I do hate when you come home bruised. And DON'T start on how it's okay, because it's not. How did you feel when you saw me bloodied and battered? Well, it's the same for me about you."Please, if not a healing potion, then let me use a spell, my muse."

*cough cough* "They're MY responsibility" *cough*

Well, now tav is too.

Behind closed doors, when the rest of the harsh world is no longer there to cause him ire or bolster his bitterness, he is a different man.

Soft whispered nothings, heads resting on shoulders, be it tavs on his or vice versa. Tail wrapped around their waist or wrist.

He strikes me as the type who would be fond of kissing the inside of their wrist or their tired hands.

Protective but also so so in need of protecting. We know the world has been unkind to him, that his birth family is not around for whatever reason. He would melt as proper care and affection.

Worry or being upset presents itself as anger from him, but once all is well and safe he will cling to Tav, whispering apologies and crying.

The first time he woke with his head resting on Tav's chest he nearly cried.

Overall he is, in his own right, so tender and gentle. When one manages to earn his heart, they've earned it in its entirety.

#bg3 #baulders gate 3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 tav #rolan x tav #rolan #rolan/tav #bg3 spoilers

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itslarsyouguys · 3 months

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I don't know if I am going to work at all on my Tav/Rolan regency AU while on vacation, so I want to post the paragraph that started it all, as I'm rather proud of it:

He loomed over her, seeming taller than he usually did, his curls unslicking from how they had been dressed, shaping almost into devil horns above his head, a trick of the light making his eyes seem to glow. Florence very much felt like she was at the mercy of a demon, sent to tempt and torment her, and she had no defenses. Had thrown them all away, in fact, because of how much she wanted to sin. “Rolan,” she whispered. His christian name, very familiar, very impertinent. But he growled at hearing it, grasping her waist. Also very familiar, very impertinent.

“If you tell me to stop, I will,” his voice was deep with want.

“Kiss me,” she said softly.

The words had barely left her lips before his mouth was on hers. He kissed her deep and rough, his lips pressing her open for the invasion of his tongue. He pulled her body flush to his, hands so hot they seemed to burn her through her many layers- dress, corset, chemise, all the way to her skin.

#rolan/tav #rolan bg3 #rolan #tav/rolan #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #rolan fanfic #fanfic preview #my fanfic

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voxel-loves-you · 2 months

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Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead - gimme that sweet sweet grumpy tiefling man please

Rolan sat down next to Francine on the bench and read over what she had already finished translating. The fact that she would draft out the translations on a separate piece of parchment wasn’t lost on him, and he greatly appreciated how neat it made the final drafts.

Setting aside her work, he looked over at Francine. She remained focused on her current task, as though Rolan were just another magical bauble, tome, or scroll that would be assessed at a later time. Not that he minded. There was something romantic in seeing her pour over pages of script and look so engaged. It made his heart ache in the most wonderful way.

“Francine? Francine?”

Nothing. Not a single word. She was miles away in some ancient and forbidden realm, breathing new life into histories forgotten by time.

Rolan sidled up right against her. “My heart?”

“Mm?” She looked at him, suddenly shocked back to reality. “When did you get here?”

Carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he smiled at her. “I finished reading over the books we got down from the Abjuration section. And I think it’s time to call it a night. Yes?”

Her eyes flitted between him and the work before her. “I just have one more scroll. I’ll finish it, then come to bed. You go on without me”

Rolan wrapped his arms around her. “I think I will make myself your personal nuisance while I wait.”

“As though you haven’t been my very own personal nuisance for as long as I’ve known you?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. I was the one forcing my way into your business while you kicked and screamed first in an idyllic grove, and then again while depressed and drunk in a shadow cursed nightmare.”

“Very accurate,” she laughed, pressing her forehead against his. “Let me at least make a note about where I am.”

“You’re welcome to try.” He leaned away, tilting his head slightly as he held her gaze. “Maybe I’ll start with a few dozen kisses to your cheek and see where that takes me.”

“For free translation services I’m only afforded cheek kisses?”

“Come to bed.” He quirked an eyebrow.

Francine mirrored his expression then turned away from him to make some quick notes. However, before her quill even touched the parchment, a warm hand caressed the side of her neck. He kissed her temple softly, then trailed several more kisses down to her cheek.

“Come to bed.”

Francine’s face burned. And as she began to talk back, Rolan stole a kiss.

His lips lingered against hers. “Come to bed, please.”

“Did you know that you are unbelievably stubborn?”

He nodded, kissing her again more deeply.

“And irritating.” Her voice trembled slightly, as Rolan’s thumb brushed against her ear.

Just when Rolan was about to kiss her a third time, a different voice interjected.

“And he’s got a big ego.”

Both Rolan and Francine turned back to see Lia wearing a somewhat disgusted expression.

“He’s very bad at picking places for romantic trysts as well.” She pointed over her shoulder. “That? Oh, that's just my room. Would love to relax there without seeing my brother do this.”

Not far away, Cal poked his head out of a different room. “Oh gross! Was he being flirty again?”

Rolan held his face in his hands and let out a muffled scream.

Francine cleared her throat, trying not to laugh. Standing, she tugged lightly on Rolan’s sleeve. “Goodnight, Lia.”

“Goodnight, Francine.”

Still tugging a mortified Rolan along, Francine waved goodnight to Cal as well.

“Don't encourage them,” Rolan hissed.

“Oh don’t be like that Rolan,” Cal teased.

Rolan said something under his breath and both Lia’s and Cal’s doors slammed shut simultaneously.

Francine gave him a sidelong glance, smirking.

Unable to handle her silence for longer than a few seconds he bit back, “What?!”

“It’s just that you got what you wanted,” she laughed. “I’m coming to bed.”

“Gods, you’re impossible.” He hid his face in his hands once more, attempting to compose himself.

“I could go back to translat—”

“Absolutely not!”

#voxel's writing #francine harjo #bg3!francine #frankie & rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan/tav

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littlemourningstarr · 1 day

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Careening Towards Oblivion

Sorcerous Sundries should have been a quick stop for Gale and his infatuation with the Crown. Instead, it provides a megalomaniac wizard with an infatuation with one Dame Aylin and a reunion that has been far overdue since Last Light.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav ; Astarion x Rolan x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, hurt/comfort, there was only one bed, tiefling tails are a gift, relationship negotiation, blowjobs, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink

“Gale, just wait a moment!” Sekh called, as the wizard took off possibly faster than the drow had ever seen him move, heading for Sorcerous Sundries. Sekh sighed, hand falling to his side, knowing it was a lost cause.

“I didn’t know he could move that fast,” Astarion mused, folding his arms and leaning against Sekh’s shoulder. “Do you think if we dangled a book from a stick in front of him he’d chase it? Like a horse with a carrot?”

Lae’zel snorted a very undignified laugh, as Sekh side eyed his lover. “Play nice Astarion.”

“Oh darling, I am always nice.” Still, the elf straightened, gesturing for Sekh to lead on. Sekh hurried, fearing that may have lost Gale for good.

Sorcerous Sundries was busy, far more than a bookstore. If the teeming magic displays outside hadn’t been enough, there seemed to be just as many inside. It was quite chaotic. They’d have fun finding Gale in the chaos.

They were searching about for him, when Sekh saw a very familiar face, across the room. He felt his pulse quicken, a smile growing so wide on his face it ached. “Rolan!” he called, tearing away from the group, running for the circular desk at the center of the room. He slowed when he came near, smile dropping away as he took in the tiefling’s face.

Bruised, little knicks dotting his skin- a fresh one, on his lip.

“Well look who it is,” Rolan mused, smiling, seeming not to take notice of Sekh’s shock. “I had wondered if I’d bump into you here.”

Sekh moved up to the desk, grasped its edge, leaned over so he could get closer. “Rolan,” he said, his voice dropping, “who did this to you?”

Rolan’s smile fell away and he reached up, touched one of the bruises along his cheek. “It’s nothing,” he said, quite obviously trying to brush Sekh off. “Don’t dwell on it.”

Sekh tightened his hold on the desk, leaned until it dug into his ribs. “Rolan.” His voice pulled from his chest, and he saw something almost tremble in the tiefling’s eyes. “Tell me who.”

The wizard hesitated, before sighing, glancing away. “My… apprenticeship hasn’t been exactly what I expected.”

Sekh ground his teeth together. Rolan didn’t need to say more- that made it clear that Lorroakan was behind the injuries.

Rolan refused to meet Sekh’s gaze, after that. He had boasted of this apprenticeship since the drow had met him- it was clear that he was embarrassed at his current state, that whatever Lorroakan had promised him wasn’t what he had expected.

Sekh inhaled slowly, tried to calm his anger. “Can I start again?” he asked, and Rolan finally looked back at him. “There’s been… a lot, lately. I’ve never been good with my anger.”

“No, you haven’t,” Rolan teased, a smile beginning to pull at his lips. “I suppose I owe it to you to let you start over. Once. Don��t be greedy.”

Sekh felt his belly dancing, butterflies fluttering like mad. It was strange, to feel so giddy over someone other than Astarion.

Sekh cleared his throat, and as if just the thought of the vampire summoned him, the elf walked up to his side as Sekh said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Better.” Rolan glanced at Astarion, who eyed him, silently noting the state he was in. And then, not so silently,

“Who in the sweet hells put their hands on you?”

Rolan sighed, mumbled about how the two were far too alike. Astarion turned his stare to Sekh, giving him a questioning look, and Sekh mouthed Lorroakan. Astarion clamped his mouth shut then, looking at Rolan with concern. After all, he understood an abusive master better than most.

“It is good to see you,” Sekh stressed again. “I hoped that you and Cal and Lia had made it here safely. Where are they?”

Rolan reached for the open book on the desk, flipping a page, seeming fidgety. “Off and about, causing whatever trouble they so like. Lorroakan… doesn’t allow them to stay here.” Sekh frowned, realized Astarion was frowning as well. “Which is possibly for the best. I wouldn’t see much of them regardless- and gods, if they had to hear the endless prattle about the Nightsong like I do…”

“Nightsong?” Sekh glanced at Astarion, before looking back at Rolan. “She’s at our camp.”

Rolan’s eyes widened, before he chuckled. “You must be mistaken. The Nightsong is a relic… and Master Lorroakan’s obsession. But… if you have information on it, he will want to see you.”

“Am I allowed to rough him up a bit?” Sekh asked- and oh, Rolan did smile over that. “Just a little.”

“Come now darling,” Astarion said, wrapping an arm around Sekh’s waist and quite visibly pulling him away. “Flirt with your little wizard later. We’d best find Gale and figure out what this madman wants with Aylin.”

Rolan’s cheeks flushed redder, as Sekh stumbled for words, letting Astarion pull him away. They were out of earshot when he managed, “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Oh I know love,” Astarion said, “you are a bit more charming than that. But it was a delight to see Rolan go that pretty shade of red.”

The vampire paused, quirked a brow at Sekh- and, alright, he couldn’t argue. It had been a rather fetching shade.

“Now, next time,” Astarion whispered, leaning in to breathe into Sekh’s ear, “I’ll show you how to really fluster him.”

The vampire pecked his cheek affectionately, and there wasn’t a bone in Sekh’s body that wanted to argue the offer.

There was a portal at the top of the stairs that led to Lorroakan’s showroom. Sekh didn’t know what else to call it, as he stepped out with Astarion, Gale, and Lae’zel. They found the room large, open, showy and flashy.

A human in vibrant red robes watched them, a construct at his side lowering a bow. Sekh assumed he had to be Lorroakan- he had a look about his face that made Sekh desperately want to punch him. Just once.

Maybe twice. Three times, for good measure-

“I see no sign of the Nightsong,” the man said, as the party stopped, a few paces away. “Surely you wouldn’t waste my time. Surely you wouldn’t come empty handed.”

He spoke as if he was the greatest thing to bless the city, as if his time was holy. If Sekh hadn’t already had reasons to quite abhor him, he was finding all new ones.

“What do you want with her?” he asked, managing to keep his voice calm. Lorroakan perked at that.

“Her. Interesting. You’ve been to the Shadowfell, then?” Sekh only managed a nod, before Lorroakan continued speaking. He quite liked the sound of his own voice, didn’t he? “Now tell me, where is the Nightsong? And do make haste, I haven’t all day.”

“She’d eat you alive,” Astarion said, looking the man up and down and appearing- displeased.

Lorroakan laughed then. Sekh frowned, took a step closer to him. “She could be so lucky. No, I have plans for the Nightsong.” From his robes, Lorroakan produced a wand, turning it to gleam in the light. It was heavily ornate, a gaudy thing. “With this, I can trap her securely in place, and siphon her immortality into myself. I can become a god.”

“There’s more to godhood than immortality,” Astarion mumbled, his own near brush with a divine becoming all too fresh.

“What was that? Do speak up boy,” Lorroakan said, and Sekh heard Astarion snarl. Before he or the vampire could act, Gale was stepping up, placing a hand on Sekh’s shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing, just a mere observation regarding the… extensive criteria of godhood,” Gale offered. Lorroakan studied him for a moment, before his mouth upturned in an ugly grin.

And of course he recognized Mystra’s discarded lap dog, as he put it. He went on a small tirade regarding Gale’s fall from grace, and Sekh knew in that moment he wanted nothing more than to see this man’s skull caved in.

“I’ll tell Aylin to come,” he said, and Lorroakan instantly turned his attention to him. “If only to see her cave your skull in. For all the shit you just said.” He paused, then added, “And for daring to put your hands on Rolan.”

The wizard furrowed his brows, seeming confused for a moment. “The apprentice? What has he got to do with you?”

Sekh refused to answer, though. He turned on his heel, storming for the portal- knowing he needed to leave before he did something rash. Before he caved the man’s skull in himself, and denied Aylin the joy.

As expected, Aylin was more than pleased to present herself to Lorroakan. Sekh had felt bad that the aasimar had requested Isobel stay behind- he knew the feeling all too well of wanting to get a good hit or ten in on someone who wanted to hurt the person you loved.

He was alarmed to see Rolan wasn’t at the desk at the center of Sorcerous Sundries upon their return- but couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it. Once they were done with Lorroakan, Rolan would be safe.

They found the megalomaniac of a wizard perched on his throne of tomes, one levitating in the air as he idly flipped through it. He gave them barely a glance, as they emerged from the portal- until Aylin took shape, imposing and regal.

Aylin addressed the man, her voice snide, quite done with the bullshit of preening, overzealous men. As she did, Sekh took in the room- elementals, flitting about- one of Lorroakan’s constructs, a walking suit of armor-

And then Rolan. Rolan, looking at Aylin with starlight eyes, as if she couldn’t be real.

Sekh turned his attention back to Lorroakan, found the wizard was looking at him now as he spoke- “and do what he came here to do.”

Sekh frowned. “You’re a fool, Lorroakan. I came here to watch Aylin put you in your place.”

The wizard frowned, drew up ugly lines along his face as Aylin laughed. Sekh could just hear Rolan whisper, my gods, the Nightsong is a person. He had moved up closer, was standing next to Lorroakan now. Sekh glanced next to him, at Astarion- but the vampire’s eyes were locked on their wizard and the small gap of space between he and Lorroakan. He looked ready to spring.

It made Sekh smile.

“Boy! At the ready!” Lorroakan snapped his fingers, didn’t even look at Rolan, and the tiefling frowned, brows furrowing.

“No, Master Lorroakan. If I had known the Nightsong was a person, I never would have helped you.” He was still looking at Aylin, awestruck. Sekh understood. There was little in the divine he could respect- but Aylin felt like an expectation, to him. Immortal yes, but not quite godly enough to think the world below her.

Lorroakan jerked his head, looked at Rolan as if no one had said the word no to him his entire life. “I will make sure no wizard in the realms touches you boy- do. As. You’re. Told.”

“That sounds like a fine deal to me.” Rolan took a step away from Lorroakan, eyes moved to Sekh now- a little smile beginning to form on his battered face. “I’ve seen true leadership, but never under your tutelage.”

Another step, and Lorroakan reached out, grasped Rolan’s robes, jerked him back a step. Sekh tensed, fingers curled, magic beginning to course through him. “I’m going to enjoy breaking each of your fingers,” he growled, as the wizard turned his attention to him- chuckled, eyeing the magic crackling at his fingers.

“What childish magic is this?” he asked, flicking his other hand so his elementals moved in closer. “Death magic and- what, borrowed weave from the fey do I sense? Pathetic.”

Sekh bared his teeth, but before he could speak he heard Astarion- and realized the elf was no longer at his side. “You talk too much.”

Lorroakan’s eyes went wide, the voice coming from behind him. In a swift movement Astarion kicked him in the small of his back, sent him stumbling, and the world erupted into chaos. The elementals rushed them, a sudden cascade of ice, wind, fire all over, as they all scrambled to get their bearings.

Aylin drew her sword and went right for Lorroakan. Sekh caught sight of Gale focusing in on him as well- while Lae’zel cleaved into an air elemental, losing no momentum even as her sword eased through it and the elemental barely reacted.

Sekh ran a few steps, grabbed Rolan by the wrist, and pulled him away from Lorroakan, as the man rolled onto his hip, let loose a storm of fire that had Aylin pulling back to avoid singeing her wings. “Get out of here,” he breathed, but Rolan pulled his wrist back, stood firm- smiled.

“And let you do all the heroing again? I think not.” He turned as the Earth elemental rushed them, firing glittering missiles into it with such force it jerked back. “Your fight is my fight.”

Sekh smiled then, was about to speak- when he heard a pained yell. He turned his attention to the sound, found Astarion gripping his daggers tightly, an arrow sticking out of his belly, lodged in his now-replaced armor.

The vampire looked pissed. Sekh turned to the magic fueled suit that was notching another arrow, sent a stream of shadows at it- only to have them nearly devoured by Lorroakan’s fire. In the same instant another arrow sliced through the air, this time lodging in Astarion’s shoulder.

He didn’t even drop his dagger. He ran at the thing, foot connecting with what would be its chest, sent it flying back. As he did the water elemental turned, shot him off balance with water that looked so cold it could freeze the skin.

Sekh ran, leapt onto the elemental, hand grasping at its chest as shadows poured into it. He fumbled for his sword as he did so, the thing thrashing, the sounds in the room all melding together- rushing air, bursting fire, crashes of metal and bone, grunts of exertion, pain-

He got his sword through the elemental’s side, and it faltered, teetered down. It threw Sekh off balance, and he rolled to the floor, landing on his hip and watching as Astarion ran directly into the elemental, daggers digging in deep- another arrow sticking out of his belly now. He could see the blood trailing down his armor.

Sekh pushed himself up, as Astarion pulled his daggers free and stabbed again and again, until the elemental went still, becoming nothing but clumps of dirt and rock.

Only a few away, a burst of flame hit the floor, singeing the carpet.

Sekh ran the short distance, got down on the ground and grabbed Astarion’s face, forcing him to look at him. He was paler than he had been just moments ago- but his eyes were alert. “I’m fine,” he said, just as Sekh heard Rolan dropping to his knees, next to them, looking alarmed.

“You have four arrows sticking out of you,” Sekh said, trying to keep calm. Astarion wasn’t dying, it would be alright. It would be alright.

“An inconvenience.” Astarion moved to stand, but grimaced, one of the arrows looking as if it dug deeper into his belly. He bared his fangs over the pain, and Sekh grasped his arm, easing him back down, looking at Rolan.

“Keep him safe,” he said, much to Astarion’s protests. Sekh turned his attention back to his vampire. “Cover me?” he asked, and Astarion looked at him, confused for a moment-

Before he grinned, dropped his daggers, and reached for his hand crossbows. “Don’t get yourself killed,” he said, and Sekh turned, rushing back into the fray. It was chaos, all around him- Gale’s magic mingling with Lorroakan’s, Aylin dashing about on her glorious wings- Lae’zel dancing between the elementals.

Sekh could only react. A stab at the water elemental, dropping to avoid some of Gale’s attacks, only to have to run nearly across the room to avoid Lorroakan’s. Sweat was clinging to his spine, his scalp, his breaths coming in quick pants, and he felt they were making little progress.

And then a very well placed arrow hit Lorroakan in the back of his shoulder. He gave a yell, and Sekh glanced across the room, saw Astarion lowering his dominant hand to fire with his off hand, hitting Lorroakan in the back. He was propped up now, back to Rolan’s chest, as the wizard knelt, eyes aglow as he sent his own storm of fire and sheer, undiluted weave into the fray, an arm around Astarion’s chest to keep him steady.

The second long lapse it gave the human was all Aylin needed- she was there, smashing him in his face with the hilt of her sword, shattering his nose and sending him stumbling back. She dropped the sword completely, grabbed him by the collar of his robe, sent her armored fist careening into his face until his head snapped back.

He was going limp, and Sekh wondered if he was even conscious. Aylin grasped his body then, lifted him high- and in a single, swift motion, brought his back down against her knee. The crack of his spine reverberated throughout the room.

The moment the sound broke, the elementals collapsed into lifeless piles- the armor clamoring to the floor in the same fashion.

All of the magic died with Lorroakan.

Aylin stood there, panting, looking… pained. Sekh wanted to go to her, but he stumbled in a run across the room back to Astarion and Rolan. The wizard was still holding his vampire, and Astarion was grinning, even if he was breathing rather heavy. Sekh took his face in his hands, stroked his chilled cheeks with his thumbs, before he looked up, caught Rolan’s eyes-

So soft despite their fire. Looking at Sekh with a relief that was palpable.

“You did it,” Rolan whispered, “the bastard is dead.”

“I’d argue that- ah,” Astarion bit his lip as he shifted, the arrows still lodged in him moving. “Bloody hells. I’d argue that Aylin did most of that. Maybe Gale.”

Sekh didn’t argue, as he heard Aylin’s footsteps, walking over. Gale and Lae’zel crowded in as well, as Aylin crouched down, lifting Astarion into her arms like a princess with ease.

Shockingly, he didn’t fight it. If anything, Sekh noticed a bit of color rising on those overly pale cheeks. “I’ll get him back to Isobel and Shadowheart,” she offered, much to Sekh’s relief. The longer they left those arrows like that, the more damage they could do.

Glancing at the whole group, Sekh decided they all needed a bit of healing. He stood up, offered his hand to Rolan and helped pull him up. He wanted to stay, to patch him up-

But Astarion needed him.

“I have to go with him,” Sekh said, “but I’ll come back later? I’ll help patch you up.” Rolan looked at him with a bit of shock, before Sekh turned his attention to Lae’zel. “Lae’zel, would you mind… helping with the body.”

She sheathed her sword, utterly grinning. “Giving me the fun task? I do rather like you.” He rolled his eyes, dropped Rolan’s hand, as Aylin left through the portal. Gale pressed a hand to Sekh’s back, offered to get him back to the Elfsong in a blink, and Sekh nodded. He looked back at Rolan- and the tiefling gave him a little smile.

It was the last thing he saw before Gale snatched him away.

Astarion’s armor had stopped the majority of the piercing from the arrows, and he was patched up fairly quickly, much to Sekh’s relief. While Isobel and Shadowheart worked on Aylin, Sekh sequestered Astarion away to their corner bed, wrapping the shirtless vampire up in his arms and offering a wrist. He’d need blood if he wanted to heal quickly.

Astarion’s back was to Sekh’s chest, his tongue pushing at the wound on his wrist as he drank slowly. Sekh was content to sit in silence with him, his body happy for a soft bed- he had plenty of bruises under his once again torn robes.

The vampire had given him an earful on how battered his clothing was again, while Isobel had worked on him. It was comical. A part of Sekh was almost eager to see him stitching it back together. There was a… domesticity to it.

He felt Astarion’s lips leave his wrist and rested his chin atop his head. “Done already?”

“I can’t drain you, my sweet,” he said, before dragging his tongue over the wounds again. Sekh let his hand fall to Astarion’s lap, where the vampire idly took it, laced their fingers together, gave it a squeeze. It was still strange, to not feel the press of either ring, against his hand.

Sekh had meant it, when he told Astarion he’d just get him a prettier one. Someday. When the world wasn’t ending, and they could think about such things.

They sat in silence for a moment, content, before Astarion asked rather softly, “Do you think your little wizard is alright?”

Sekh smiled. “Going soft on me and worrying about him?” Astarion scoffed, but he didn’t respond. Sekh didn’t need him to. “Once you’re settled I’ll go back and see him- make sure he’s alright.” Astarion fidgeted out of Sekh’s hold then, turning to face him- eyes rather serious.

“Not without me.” Sekh arched a brow in silent question, and Astarion cleared his throat, glanced away. “I mean- it wouldn’t do to leave you all alone with him- you’ll simply make a fool of yourself with your flirtatious attempts again.”

The drow laughed, tipping his head back slightly. “Whatever you have to say to make yourself feel better, Starshine.” He reached for Astarion’s cheek, caressed it softly, watched those eyelids flutter. “I wouldn’t… Astarion, I love you, and I want you to know I wouldn’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You have me. You have all of me.”

There was a waver, to those pretty ruby eyes- one that the vampire didn’t try to hide. He turned his head, pressed a kiss to Sekh’s palm. “Darling, if you want a little taste of the tiefling, I will never say no. I… believe you, when you say you love me.” Another nervous clearing of his throat. “Which is a novel concept, but one I’m trying to embrace.” His hand reached for Sekh’s thigh, squeezed it gently, reassuring. “I’ve lived too long to ever think one can have every need or desire met by one person. And that’s not a bad thing.”

Sekh’s fingers played along his cheek, as Astarion moved to kiss the fresh puncture wounds on his wrist. “If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?”

Those eyes rose to Sekh’s, held his stare. “Shockingly, yes.”

He could have almost laughed. “Do you want him?”

Sekh felt almost ridiculous asking- there was no way he had imagined the tension, between the three of them- yet he needed Astarion’s confirmation. Because he almost didn’t want to experience anything without him- he’d rather just enjoy the fantasy, if Astarion didn’t feel the strange magnetic pull as well.

The vampire licked his lips. When he spoke it was low, voice pulling directly from the core of his chest. “Yes.” There was a long pause, as if he was digesting his own answer. With a smile he added, “Oh, it is rather fun to admit.”

Sekh chuckled, leaned in and pressed an affectionate kiss to Astarion’s lips. There was enough joy in seeing the vampire express desire he could embrace at his own levels of comfort that it could drown out the sudden race of his heart at the prospect that they both wanted their little wizard.

It was dark, by the time they made it back to Sorcerous Sundries. Lae’zel had returned just as the sun was setting to the Elfsong, declaring that Lorroakan was well taken care of. Sekh didn’t ask what that meant about his body- was just glad that Lae’zel seemed pleased with a job well done.

Rolan looked about the same, as he had when Sekh had left him after the battle. He had hoped the tiefling would have cleaned himself up a bit- taken care of the cuts on his face, and whatever other aches might be lurking, beneath his robes.

“Gods preserve me,” Sekh muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Next to him, Astarion chuckled, quite obviously enjoying his lover’s frustration. Sekh would have elbowed him, but he was afraid of aggravating the bandaged wounds, around his torso.

“I was a bit distracted,” Rolan offered, leaning back against the central desk of Sorcerous Sundries. It was eerily quiet, within, now that the shop was closed. “What with dealing with Lorroakan’s… body. And then gathering up Cal and Lia.”

“You mean they let you prance around all bruised up?” Sekh folded his arms, brow furrowed, and Rolan rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing away.

“Well… not willingly, but… there’s paperwork-”

“Oh bloody hells,” Astarion broke in, chuckling, “you’re going to set Sekh to convulsions. Come now, let’s get you cleaned up. I gave him enough of a scare for the day.”

“You certainly did,” Sekh muttered, taking Astarion’s hand and following a resigned Rolan, into the depths of the building. They took a portal that led to living quarters, a large foyer that seemed-

Well, rather cold and unwelcoming. Nothing but books stacked on shelves, windows wide open that would let in the sunlight- but now left the room dark.

“The wizard was very… poor with his interior design,” Astarion mused, as they exited the foyer, Rolan taking them into a hallway that was bland. He paused at a door, twisting the handle and pushing the door open.

“I don’t believe he cared much for… homeliness.” Rolan stepped inside, and Sekh and Astarion followed. Rolan’s room was small but well kept- he had a bed pushed against one wall, a desk against another, which was stacked high with books. An additional stack was on the floor, all heavily bookmarked.

Rolan walked over to a small armoire, opening it and pulling out a little basket.

“Lia put this together the first time she saw what Lorroakan had done,” he offered, turning around and holding it close to his chest. He looked embarrassed. “I thought she was going to storm right in and kill him herself.”

Sekh wished she had. He stepped closer, took the basket- full of medical supplies, and gestured towards the desk. Rolan moved to sit in the chair, as Astarion busied himself pacing the room, pretending to be interested in anything else other than the other two men in the room.

He didn’t fool Sekh.

The drow set the basket down, pawing through it, examining the various bottles and jars in it. Lia had done a damn good job putting it together, he had to admit. Bless her.

Sekh popped open a bottle, picking up a cloth and dabbing the liquid on it. “This is going to sting,” he said, free hand reaching for Rolan’s chin, tipping it up slightly. The tiefling just looked at him, and Sekh felt his pulse pick up, a tick.

He caught, from the corner of his eyes, Astarion glance at him, little smile on his face.

Ignoring him, Sekh dabbed the cloth at a cut on Rolan’s cheek. The tiefling winced, and without thought Sekh hushed him, a soft shh, shh that had Rolan’s eyes going a little wide.

He heard the floor creak, as Astarion moved over to them- and he knew he was making noise for their benefit. The vampire stood behind Rolan, idly fidgeting with his hair, beginning to pull what remained tied back free. Rolan’s eyes darted, wanting to look back at him, as Sekh moved to another cut, along his jaw.

“I thought a distraction might be in order,” Astarion murmured, tangling Rolan’s hair around his fingers. He tsked. “What is with both of you and tying up such pretty hair?”

“I can’t have it in my face all the time,” Sekh retorted, not looking at Astarion. He was examining a bruise along Rolan’s neck, tipping the tiefling’s face to the side with ease. “I could chop it off instead-”

“Do not even jest.” Sekh glanced up then, gave Astarion a huge grin, and watched the way the vampire smiled back, the light from it reaching his eyes. “I would go into mourning. I’d weep for days.”

The drow shook his head, turned his attention back to Rolan. He had a cut near his lip, and without much thought Sekh moved his thumb, rubbed it along his lower lip, then over the healing cut. He felt Rolan shiver, before the man’s lips parted, a little noise escaping him that had Sekh’s heart pounding up into his throat. The moment he made it, Rolan flushed, so deep he was redder than Sekh had ever seen, as he averted his eyes quickly.

And behind him, Astarion gave a toothy smile. Sekh glanced at him, realized the vampire had his fingers trailing along one of Rolan’s horns softly. “Apologies,” he said, “I thought you might like it. I do believe Sekh touched you here once before, when I … feeding.”

The sheer memory of that little moment had Sekh’s belly twisting. It had been… intimate, in ways he hadn’t expected. As if the three of them had connected, nerves and synopsis melding, becoming a single being.

“It’s… it’s alright,” Rolan managed. He cleared his throat, and Sekh forced himself to focus, cleaned the last cut up by Rolan’s brow.

There wasn’t much he could do about the bruises, unfortunately. There was an ointment in the basket, Sekh recognized the list of herbs in it- it would help with pain, but he knew it wasn’t the most pleasant on the face.

“Where else are you bruised?” Sekh asked, as Astarion continued to stroke his fingertips along one of Rolan’s horns, looking quite pleased with himself. Rolan tried to tell Sekh not to bother, but the drow frowned, before stepping back, placing his hands firmly on his hips. “Rolan.”

There was a flicker, in those fiery eyes, over just saying his name. Sekh tried to ignore it, but Astarion hummed a little approval- and he wondered, had Rolan’s pulse spiked? Could Astarion hear it?

“I’m fine. Really.” Rolan moved to stand up then, dislodging Astarion from his horns. Before Sekh could speak, Astarion stepped around the chair, putting himself between Rolan and Sekh.

“I highly doubt that,” the vampire said, “now, play nice and let Sekh take care of you. I promise you’ll… enjoy it.” He held the tiefling’s stare for a moment, before Rolan’s shoulders sagged slightly.

“Fine. My… torso is rather battered.”

“Great. Off with the robe then, darling.” Astarion twirled his finger, and Rolan hesitated a moment, before he listened. He shed the robe, settling it on the back of his chair, leaving him bare chested, his pants settled slightly low on his hips.

Sekh forced himself not to stare- it was hard, oh it was hard- and turned back to the little medical basket, opening the jar and scooping a bit of the balm onto his fingers. “This is cold,” he warned, as he pressed his fingers to Rolan’s chest, along a large bruise that wrapped from his shoulder to his pectoral. The tiefling shivered, and gods Sekh could feel it, beneath his finger tips.

He rubbed the balm in, found Rolan’s higher body heat warmed it quickly. His fingers drifted from the bruise, down to his ribs, trailed over bumps and ridges that were tantalizing.

“Thank the gods this isn’t Jaheira’s recipe,” Astarion remarked, lifting the jar up. “Smells rather… floral.” Leagues better than that awful dirt smell that made made Sekh’s head hurt.

The drow managed a nod, reaching his fingers back into the jar for more, moving them to the next bruise. Without much thought his free hand went to Rolan’s waist, caressed gently- and the tiefling’s eyelids fluttered. Behind him, his tail swished rather forcefully.

Sekh was so close that he could smell Rolan’s sweat, his skin, beneath the balm. It was fiery, spiced in a way that made him want to clench his thighs together. And the way Rolan was watching him-

The tiefling hissed suddenly, going tense, and Sekh realized Astarion had placed a hand to his bare chest, splayed those icy fingers. “You are quite warm,” he mused, dragging the hand down his chest slowly, to the hollow of his ribs. “Am I too cold for you?”

“I- well…” Rolan took a breath, and gods, it was there again, this magnetic tension building in Sekh, spilling out between them all. “No.”

Astarion hummed. “Good. Good.” He pulled his hand away, waving Sekh off when the drow went for the jar again. “Darling he is quite cared for now I think. Do you need him… slippery?”

Sekh flushed, and Rolan turned his gaze up to the ceiling. Astarion snorted a laugh, quite pleased with himself over flustering them both.

“So tell us, what do you plan to do now with this rather… imposing tower?” Astarion capped the jar and set it in the basket, busying himself by taking it back to Rolan’s armoire. “Should we be hailing you as its new master?”

That had Sekh smiling. “All hail Rolan, master of Ramazith’s tower.”

And oh, that smug smile was back on Rolan’s face- but bigger, genuine. He chuckled. “I do like that sound of that. I do indeed.” He paused, added, “Cal and Lia might find it a bit pompous, though. Lorroakan wouldn’t let them stay here- moving them in was one of the best feelings.”

Sekh could only imagine.

“But,” Rolan added, “I wouldn’t have this- I wouldn’t have my family, without you. Either of you. What can I…” he paused, licked his lips, his eyes looking a bit darker, “What can I ever do to thank you?”

Astarion was back at Sekh’s side, quite ready with a retort, but Sekh broken in- “we could use some help saving the city- possibly all of the realms.”

The vampire scoffed, a breathed darling really? As Rolan chuckled. “And you’ll have it. I will learn everything about this tower, even if I have to tear it apart book by book. I’ll be right at your side.”

Sekh smiled then, folded his arms, felt Astarion’s hand going to his back. “And there’s one other thing.” Rolan looked at him expectantly, and Sekh’s smile turned to full affection. “Get some rest.”

Rolan hummed, a little laugh building. “I suppose I can arrange that. It has been a rather long day.” He shifted a bit, the cockiness beginning to fall away, “I know it’s… rather late. If you two want you could, well…” he swallowed. “You could stay.”

It was an interesting invitation- because Sekh knew it wasn’t that late. And that he and Astarion could easily make it back to the Elfsong. That they needed less time for rest.

Sekh glanced at Astarion, but the vampire was already sliding right up to Rolan, taking an arm in his own and leaning into his heat. “If you want our company,” he mused, “just ask, darling.”

And oh, there was that blush again. Rolan cleared his throat. “I… I would like that,” he admitted, “although my room is rather… small.”

“Not interested in crawling into the old master’s bed yet?” Astarion asked, before he grimaced a little. “Actually, don’t answer that. I imagine that man to have some rather… messy books lying about in his bed. No way another living creature would have crawled into bed with him.”

And Rolan was redder. “Astarion,” Sekh said, even as he laughed. The vampire just shrugged, not yet releasing Rolan’s arm. Sekh rolled his eyes, but he was smiling so wide his cheeks ached. “If you want our company, you have it,” he said, looking back to Rolan. “I think we’re all rather exhausted after today- sleeping arrangements shouldn’t bother us much.”

And, yes, fitting three grown adults into Rolan’s bed meant for one was a bit bothersome, but it was more so delightfully entertaining. Especially when Astarion began to undress without a care- until he was down to his shirt and underwear, looking at Sekh and Rolan as if they were mad to think he’d sleep fully dressed.

Sekh gave in then, sitting on the bed and tossing his shirt away. Rolan watched, inclined his head slightly, took a moment to study the scars along his chest, eyes dragging along the one that ran down his ribs- and then a look of realization on his face, and gods if he continued to blush he was going to be redder than a true devil before the night was out.

They ended with Sekh’s back pressed to the wall, the drow on his side, an arm tight around Rolan’s waist, the teifling’s back to his chest. Astarion was all too pleased to curl himself into Rolan’s chest, shuddering with delight over the heat, his hand finding his waist as well, rubbing Sekh’s arm there. It was… peaceful, even if cramped, even if new.

But it felt right, to be locked together, like this.

Sekh tranced easier than he expected, and came to from memories of being a child, exploring the Underdark in an almost carefree way with Syl, shortly after he’d met her. Before the pact, before the deaths.

He sighed, eyes fluttering open, arm instinctively tightening around the body pressed to him. But instead of Astarion’s refreshing coolness, he was met with heat that exceeded his own, a burning warmth that made him drowsy. Rolan was solid in his arms, larger than Astarion- and for a brief moment, Sekh wondered if he hadn’t roused yet, if his mind was crafting this to torment him.

But the day- and night- before flooded his memories, told him this was real. He smiled to himself, pressed his face into Rolan’s shoulder, sighing. Content.

As he did, he felt something tightening, around his leg. He glanced down, and realized in the night Rolan’s tail had coiled around his leg, was grasping him in a loose, sleepy fashion.

His smile grew so much it hurt. He felt giddy, suddenly. So giddy he must have squirmed about, because he felt Rolan stirring in his arms- and then finally, Astarion’s cool touch, as his hand slid along the arm he had slung over Rolan’s waist.

A familiar, drowsy grunt, and then Astarion’s waking voice- “I’m not quite ready for morning yet.” He heard Astarion shifting- assumed the vampire was nestling in closer to Rolan’s chest, soaking in all that delicious heat. He gave a little groan of approval, and Sekh knew he was right.

Rolan lifted his head- which Astarion’s grunt showed he did not approve of- and craned his neck, trying to get a look at Sekh behind him. His eyes were a bit drowsy- but he looked slightly awestruck, dream-like.

Did he think this wasn’t real?

Hadn’t they been careening to this point since Last Light?

“Good morning,” Sekh offered, pushing himself up so he was propped on his hip. Rolan rolled slightly more onto his back- and as he did so, Astarion simply moved with him, sprawling along his chest. Rolan glanced down at him, and Sekh chuckled. “Now that he knows you’re a living furnace, I hope you’re ready to never have a moment alone again.”

Rolan lifted his hand, hesitated- but when Sekh nodded, he let it rest on Astarion’s head, dared to toy with some of his soft, wild curls. The vampire purred, sliding along Rolan, a bare leg draping up over his legs. As he pet, his tail squeezed Sekh’s leg again, left the drow biting back a laugh.

“Rolan,” he said softly, drawing the tiefling’s attention back to him. “You’re tail.” Rolan looked confused, before Sekh felt the tip swishing- and oh, the color that flooded Rolan’s face at the realization. “I like it,” Sekh said quickly, afraid Rolan would let go of him, “it’s cute.”

Rolan clicked his tongue. “I’m many things- but cute? I don’t believe that is one.”

Astarion laughed, that whimsical high pitched sound that shook from his very soul. He pushed himself up then, loomed over Rolan, staring down at him with burning eyes. “You are quite cute,” he retorted, “dare I say even adorable.”

Rolan stared up at him, and Sekh understood the look of awe. He’d had it himself, countless times, looking up at Astarion with tussled, soft curls, that easy smile- the feeling that something close to the divine, something impossible was looking at you like you mattered.

He found he was incredibly pleased to have someone else experience it- no, not just someone else. Specifically Rolan- he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about just anyone else seeing the wonder that was Astarion, carefree and himself, in the morning.

One of Astarion’s hands found Rolan’s cheek, the back of his knuckles dragging along it gently. “I’m going to kiss you, little wizard,” he said, softly, “so if this isn’t… agreeable to you, tell me now.”

Rolan’s lips parted, a little breath- that tail that Sekh was slowly falling head over heels for squeezing his leg again. When Rolan didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, Astarion leaned down, pressed his chilled lips to Rolan’s warm mouth. Sekh watched Rolan’s eyelids flutter, watched as his hand reached for Astarion, cupped the back of his head gently. He knew the pressing and gentle movements of Astarion’s mouth, knew that the tip of his tongue would flick to Rolan’s lips-

And gods, he could see Rolan’s mouth open, by the movement of his jaw. Heard the groan the tiefling gave, as Astarion explored him lazily, the vampire casually grinding into his leg. Sekh reached out, grasped at Astarion’s hip, dared to pull him harder to Rolan, heard the vampire chuckle into Rolan’s mouth.

He could see the outline of Astarion’s cock, through his underwear. Knew Rolan had to feel it. His eager need when he was given even a moment of affection in the morning. It drove Sekh mad with sheer delight.

Astarion pulled from Rolan’s mouth, the tiefling gasping for a desperate breath. The vampire smiled over it, turned his head to look at Sekh. He held his stare for only a moment, before he reached for him, tangled his hand in Sekh’s free hair and pulled him in for a kiss.

It was nothing but sheer affection, a sweetness that could make Sekh dizzy. Astarion was smiling into it- and though it was brief, it felt timeless. “Now, darling,” Astarion whispered, pulling away and settling back, “if you don’t kiss Rolan right now, I think I am going to lose my mind.”

Rolan made a desperate noise at that, and Sekh moved quickly, bowing over him, finding his mouth. He felt almost mad, when he finally kissed him, an explosion of tension bursting inside his very being. Rolan surged against his mouth, seeming to recover from the stupor a kiss from Astarion could put one in, his hand finding Sekh’s waist, squeezing the bare skin. Sekh groaned, dragged his tongue along Rolan’s lips, pushed inside and teased all of those sharp teeth.

Rolan opened his mouth more for Sekh, head tipping back, giving him better access. As he did, Sekh heard the sound of lips on skin- Astarion, peppering Rolan’s collarbone and chest with little kisses. Sekh pinched his lower lip between his teeth, just as Astarion’s tongue dragged over one of Rolan’s nipples- the tiefling gasping, hips bucking.

Sekh released his lip, grinned. “Can I touch you, Rolan?” he asked, his own body buzzing with the sort of need that had his nerves screaming.

Rolan gave a desperate, wanton whimper- before he seemed to come back to himself, flushing and clearing his throat. “If… if you want to,” he managed, and Sekh giggled, shaking his head once.

Oh this man was precious.

Sekh slid down his body- sad that Rolan’s tail finally uncoiled from his leg- but paused at the tiefling’s chest, when Astarion looked up at him. He stole a desperate, messy kiss from the vampire, as his hand reached for Rolan’s pants, began undoing them.

“Be good to him,” Astarion said softly, a glint in his eyes that was all trouble and promise.

Oh, Sekh fully planned to be.

Astarion moved his attention to Rolan’s neck, lavishing it with kisses, his hand finding the tiefling’s pectoral and squeezing, before teasing his now overly sensitive nipple. Once his pants were undone, Sekh slid his hand in, felt Rolan’s cock straining against his underwear, fucking hard as steel and leaking precum into the fabric.

He felt dizzy, so dizzy and needy and hungry.

Rolan bucked his hips, bit at his lip as Sekh gave him a squeeze, before the drow freed him entirely from his clothing, pulled his cock into the open air of the room.

Rolan shivered, and Sekh let himself stare, for a moment. Rolan’s cock was decorated with ridges just like his body, thicker than Sekh had expected, with one textured ridge along the underside that was perfectly bumped, like the skin along his collarbone, over his shoulders.

Sekh squeezed his legs together, wanted to whine, wanted to feel Rolan pushing into him, feel the way all those textures could make his body scream. Another time, when the world wasn’t ending, when the threat of turning into a Mindflayer wasn’t imminent.

He gave him a slow stroke, watched as more precum beaded up at the head. Without even thinking, Sekh murmured, “your cock is so pretty,” and he heard Rolan gasp, whine, glanced up to see one of his hands covering his face.

“Don’t- don’t say that,” Rolan managed, as Astarion glanced down, took in Rolan’s cock himself.

Gods below, he licked his lips. “Why not?” he asked, moving to Rolan’s ear, breathing into it just loud enough that Sekh could hear, “it is.” Rolan arched as Sekh stroked him slowly, hand falling from his face as he began to pant.

Sekh glanced away, heard not even a moment later the wet, needy sounds of Astarion kissing Rolan, and bowed his head over the tiefling, pushed some of his hair behind his ear as he exhaled against his cock.

And, without any additional warning, took half of him into his mouth.

Rolan’s hips bucked, a desperate sound escaping his kiss with Astarion, as Sekh huffed a breath through his nose, his body aching. Rolan’s skin had a salty spice to it, something he couldn’t explain, but it made his mind begin to melt. He sucked gently, his hand stroking Rolan’s shaft, felt his cock throb against his tongue, a fresh wave of precum coating his mouth.

He eased lower, tongue rolling along that one long ridge, over each little bump- and he felt a hand in his hair, chilled fingers twisting in the locks, pushing him down slightly. Astarion. Sekh let the vampire guide him, took all of Rolan in, until his cockhead was pushing at his throat, the stretch making his jaw ache.

“Gods below,” Rolan gasped, as Sekh closed his eyes, bobbed his head. He placed a hand on Rolan’s hips, guiding them as they rocked towards his mouth. Astarion’s hand was still in his hair, and he could hear the vampire murmuring to Rolan, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Just the occasional good boy and see how well he takes you. Sekh kept his eyes shut, drowning in the dichotomy of feelings- Astarion’s cool touch, Rolan’s burning skin- Rolan’s needy whimpers, Astarion’s controlled voice.

It was everything, everything, everything.

“I won’t…last,” Rolan breathed out, causing Sekh to open his eyes, glance up his body. Astarion glanced down at that time, met his stare, had a devil smirk to his pretty face.

“We don’t want you to,” he said softly, peppering little kisses along Rolan’s jaw. “I want to see you fall apart- and I know Sekh wants to taste it. You can come for us, can’t you?” Rolan panted, and Sekh squeezed his hip, squirming himself, his tongue pushing at Rolan’s cock as it slid with such ease along his mouth, over and over again.

It was barely a moment later, when Rolan was arching, giving a little cry- body shaking as Sekh’s mouth was flooded. He swallowed around his cock, could feel it sliding past his lips anyway. It felt like years of simple pent up desire finally leaving the tiefling.

“That’s it, like that,” Astarion cooed, nuzzling into Rolan’s neck, grinding his own clothed cock into his hip. “Such a good boy. Give my darling a proper taste.”

Sekh teased with his tongue, sucked gently, until Rolan was relaxing. He kept teasing, even as the tiefling began to squirm, over sensitive now, as he could hear Astarion once again kissing him.

How that vampire did love to kiss and kiss and kiss.

Sekh pulled off then, licking his lips, feeling almost outside himself. His body was screaming for attention, his cunt drenched and aching- and yet, he ignored it completely. There was such a joy in being desperately aroused, that dragging it out until he was utterly mindless was- well, quite fun.

Instead, he moved quickly, grasped Astarion’s hips and turned them, so his ass was resting on the bed. The vampire groaned, hips bucking, missing the friction he had been getting from grinding into Rolan.

With a single movement, Sekh had his underwear tugged down, Astarion’s cock free- and then he was taking him over his tongue, all the way to the back of his throat in a deep movement, just the way Astarion liked it.

Astarion broke from his kiss with Rolan, gasping- the sound ending in a joyous laugh. “Ah- darling-yes.” He tipped his head back, hips rolling to match Sekh’s movements, one arm reaching up above him, draping on the pillows as he stretched out, bared himself.

Glorious, perfect.

Sekh kept his eyes shut, as badly as he wanted to glance up, to stare at Astarion- but he felt something tightening around his waist then- and gods, it was Rolan’s tail again, holding onto him.

It made his chest ache with an affection that was truly infectious.

He felt the tiefling shift, sitting up- and then his hands gathering up Sekh’s hair, holding it back. It was such a small gesture, but so sweet that Sekh almost felt tears sting in the corners of his eyes.

He felt one of Rolan’s hands move from his hair to his back, stroking his spine, soothing. Sekh wanted that hand on his waist, wanted it to grip him tightly-

Could imagine himself on Astarion’s cock, with Rolan holding on, watching with those hungry, hungry eyes- or riding Rolan, the tiefling clinging to him, desperate to not fall off the face of the realms.

Sekh moaned, the sound vibrating around Astarion’s cock. The vampire arched, breaths coming faster. “So good, my sweet, fucking-perfect.” Sekh placed a hand on Astarion’s thigh, squeezed affectionately, heard the vampire swallow thickly. “Do you want me to come in your pretty little mouth, my love?”

Sekh groaned, as Rolan’s breath hitched. His groan was enough of a response for Astarion, who smiled and let his bliss overtake him, cock throbbing as he came for Sekh. Sekh would have smiled himself, if his lips weren’t so perfectly stretched over Astarion’s cock.

Just like with Rolan, he let his tongue lavish Astarion’s cock through his orgasm, the vampire's hips rutting in shallow little thrusts. When the elf stilled, Sekh pulled off, sucked in a desperate breath, heading spinning. For a moment he swore he was seeing spots- white in his vision-

And then hands, hands on his face, Astarion pulling him up, kissing him so lovingly, so wantonly. Astarion, groaning over the taste on Sekh’s tongue- his cum, Rolan’s cum, all mingling into something intoxicating.

“Up, up love,” Astarion said, guiding Sekh up onto his knees. Without hesitation his deft fingers got Sekh’s pants open, pulling them and his underwear halfway down his thighs, exposing his burning cunt to the cool bedroom air.

Sekh panted, hips rocking, as Astarion turned his attention to Rolan- who was staring.

“Help keep him steady,” he said, “I fear his legs might give out. It happens when he’s… this desperate.” Astarion’s fingers moved to Sekh’s cunt, trailed over his lips, and then two slid inside with such ease that Astarion groaned. “Darling, you’re flooded.”

Sekh trembled, heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst through his ribs. Rolan’s tail clutched at his waist tightly, one of the tiefling’s hands now at his hips, helping to hold him. The other found his face, cupped it gently, and gods Rolan kissed him.

Sekh rocked down onto Astarion’s fingers, let Rolan’s tongue sample the taste in his mouth. The tiefling only kissed him harder, seemed to like it just as much as Astarion had.

Astarion’s mouth pressed to his chest, his fingers curling, making Sekh jerk away from the kiss, head dropping back, eyes wide. Every nerve within him was alight, aching and burning and screaming, as Astarion touched the sweetest spot inside him.

“I’ve got you,” Astarion said softly, lovingly. “Does it feel good, Sekh?” Sekh managed a nod, and Astarion turned his attention to Rolan, smirking. “Help me show him bliss.”

The hand on his thigh moved then, towards his cunt. Hesitantly Rolan touched the warm, soft skin, his middle finger finding Sekh’s clit and pressing against the overly hard bud. Sekh mewled, eyes wide, pupils blown, as Rolan touched him slowly. “Like this?” he asked, sounding nervous.

But Astarion hummed, began moving his fingers faster. “Be a bit rougher, he won’t break.”

Rolan pressed harder, and Sekh saw starbursts, his belly tightening up. Gods he was right there already, so close he could feel his orgasm nearly taking hold with each thrust of Astarion’s expert fingers.

And oh, Astarion could feel it. He was grinning, eyes adoring and full of desire as he watched Sekh. “That’s it love, I can feel how badly you want to come.” Another perfect curl at the knuckle, and Sekh was trembling, from his core. “Come on darling- show us both how good you can feel.”

Sekh’s mouth opened, eyes squeezing shut as his body listened, as if Astarion could simply pluck a single nerve inside him and make him come on command. He squeezed at Astarion’s fingers, cunt fluttering around him as his muscles spasmed, the knot in his belly bursting. He nearly yelled- would have, if Rolan hadn’t caught his lips in a desperate kiss, swallowing down the noise.

And all the while, he could hear Astarion murmuring, “that’s it, that’s my darling boy.”

Sekh felt his muscles growing loose, liquid like, as the orgasm ebbed. Rolan kept him upright, fingers leaving his clit to hold onto him. Astarion seemed less willing to leave his body- dared a few more delicious curls of his fingers, sending sparks up along Sekh’s spine, before pulling them free.

Sekh opened his eyes, just to catch Astarion popping both into his mouth, looking at him with heavy lidded eyes that told Sekh the moment night fell, he was going to take a proper taste.

The drow swallowed thickly, turned his attention to Rolan, who had moved back from the kiss just enough to be seen.

Eyes unbelieving, looking at Sekh like at any moment he was going to dissipate into the air. Like this couldn’t be real- that it couldn’t have finally happened.

Astarion leaned in, rested his chin on Rolan’s shoulder, arms going around his waist, hands trailing dangerously low- until one grasped at the tiefling’s already half hard cock, giving it a playful squeeze. “Ooh, look at you, nearly ready to go again.”

Sekh choked on a laugh, reaching down for his own clothing and pulling them back up over the swell of his ass, the curve of his hips. He didn’t bother closing them. “Astarion, I think you’ll kill him.”

The vampire pouted, but relented- instead very gently tucked Rolan back into his clothing, placing a rather affectionate kiss to his shoulder. Sekh pressed one to Rolan’s cheek as well, felt the heat of his flush. He wanted to kiss him again, to steal a few more moments of the morning-

But of course, fate couldn’t allow that. Sekh heard footsteps right outside Rolan’s door, just as a voice was saying, “Rolan, are you up? Lia wants breakfast and I might need you to help me find the kitchen.”

The door opened, and Cal filled the doorway, the words dying in a little choke as he caught sight of his brother, sandwiched so perfectly between Sekh and Astarion. Sekh glanced over his shoulder, gave Cal a grin because it was so good to see him- and the other tiefling burst into a beaming smile.

“Finally!” He yelled, before he turned, rushing off, yelling, “Lia- Lia- it finally happened!”

Rolan groaned, pulling himself from Sekh and Astarion and climbing out of the bed, quickly rushing after his brother, yelling for him to just wait a damn minute. Sekh and Astarion looked at each other, before they burst into laughter, the sort that twisted their bellies and made their chests ache.

It felt good.

“I feel like I should go rescue him,” Sekh offered, as Astarion finally adjusted his own clothing- his most intimate parts having been conveniently blocked by Rolan’s frame from Cal.

“Which one?” he asked, and Sekh just shrugged. He wasn’t sure, honestly. Astarion kept his smile, reached for him and took Sekh’s hand, forcing him to shuffle closer. “Go rescue our little wizard,” he agreed, and Sekh’s smile grew.

“Our,” he said, and Astarion just looked at him. “You said our. Usually you leave him all to me.”

Astarion pinched his lips together, cleared his throat. “Well, after… I mean, after this…I…” He sighed, and Sekh just placed a kiss to his temple.

“I’m teasing you, Starshine. What is mine is yours, now and forever.” A kiss to his cheek then. “Get dressed and come with me- we’ll have to get back to the Elfsong anyway.”

Astarion sighed. “Of course, can’t forget that we have tadpoles in our heads and that the realms are under threat by a trio of gods and a rampant, unruly Elder Brain. Why couldn’t we just have a nice calm morning for once? What happened to staying in bed and fucking half the day away?”

Sekh snorted, climbing from the bed, grabbing Astarion’s pants, discarded the night before, and tossing them to him. “We can do that once we’re done playing hero.”

The vampire huffed. “Darling, with you, I have a feeling we’ll never be done.”

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #rolan #astarion ancunin #sekh'met #sekstarion #bg3 tav #tavstarion #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #rolan x tav #rolan/tav #eternally yours

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