Sunna Terra

Fields of Crimson & Gold is completed

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Chapter 4 Paradox

Paradox Chapter 4 "Fields of Crimson and Gold" updated 2x a week / wordcount : 65k Read the rest here: AO3 @ Iruin on AO3 18+ Astarion/The Dark Urge (Baldur's Gate)

Chapter 4 Paradox

The Dark Sunna

            Long before I drew breath, I was chosen to rule in Bhaal’s name. My father created me, his heir, to be the most ruthless weapon that has ever existed.

Like most royalty, I was raised in my own household that consisted of Bhaal loyalists, Deathstalkers and a butler for a short time before being sent to Baldur’s Gate, Father’s way of throwing me into the water before learning to swim. I would soon find a family that saw a helpless orphan unknowingly choosing their own savage fate.

The fractured memories of a meager but happy life come in waves. I was loved. I had a mother, a father, and a brother. I played with children until my inheritance and true self came calling.

One day, I broke entirely. There I was but a child standing atop the mangled remains of my mother, my father, and my brother. My mother's bread knife in my tiny hand dripping in my family's blood. I’d say goodbye to that two-bedroom cottage.

I wanted to cry but I couldn't. Accomplishment and pride are all I feel. A small urge no longer, “Babies first murder spree” The Dark Urge, was once again called home, to her devoted father.

M’Lord   A little Urge - not even an adolescent - stands with a tiny dagger atop a bloody heap.  Two-bedroom cottage. Relative squalor. Poor part of the city.  Indiscriminate whole-family kill.  Baby's first murder spree SF

“Welcome, M’Lady, I’ve laid out some fine jimjams for you to wear. Father is overjoyed to have his special girl home again,” whispered Fel. The grand temple. My room was adorned in silky crimson sinew and metallic gore befitting a royal Bhaalspawn a Chosen. It was good to be home.

Granite Chapter 3 "Fields of Crimson and Gold" updated 2x a week / wordcount : 39k Read the rest here: AO3 @ iruin on AO3 18+ Astarion X Durge

Sired in Death

Sunna

Sceleritas Fel appears behind you as you watch Astarion sleep, your knife in hand you lean down, you catch the scent of your own blood on his breath and your skin tingles “he is beautiful indeed.” “He is so afraid. So, so afraid. Of everyone besides you, who he ought to fear most.” Sceleritas says, almost smiling. “You like him for more than his looks, but he will never believe that. Why not make him a pretty corpse?” Lunging at Sceleritas, you growl, “Don’t touch him.” “Oh no, M’lady, that is only for you. I would never overstep.” ”I will protect him with my life. I …I love him.” “Sweet lady, your father will not be pleased.” Sceleritas frowns, looking over at the sleeping vampire. “M’lady, it may just come to that”. “To what, Butler”? You ask, knowing the answer. “To protecting him, with YOUR life, M’lady” Sceleritas says with a disappointed tone. “You are your Father's Chosen. There can only be one, you know, and your sister is eager to take your place.” Sceleritas rubs his hat between his fingers, looking down before fading away before your eyes. You drop to your knees, leaning over Astarion, pressing my head to his. “I can control it, I’ll keep you safe” all the while you yearn to kill him, this will always be a battle you must keep within. “Well, hello. Looking for a cuddle? Although you don’t look entirely… yourself. What’s going on in that head of yours?” ”I’m afraid that I will kill the person I care about most in this world, all because of this urge growing inside me” “I’d rather be the only dark power inside your body, if it’s all the same to you. Also, that’s quite flattering, albeit disturbing,” ”You could have talked to him before things got ‘murderously bad, as we are technically in this together”, he says to you. You try to explain everything, your confession interrupted by the yellow bile rising and blurring your vision. You pass out and awake your hands tied behind your back, unable to communicate. You are not yourself. All control is gone. You are your urges and struggle against the rope. Astarion sits close, watching over you. “This thing won’t have you. It’s won’t,” “Easy now darling, you’ve got this and I’ve got you,” You try to thank him and fail, attempting to bite him. ”Ah ah ah, we ask before we bite. You’re cute, you know. In another life we could’ve been friends” Morning comes, the night passes fitfully but bloodlessly. Astarion is alive, as are you. He sits up and cuts the rope binding your hands. You confess everything in a torrent of truth. You are not alone in this - none of us are. We can even compare notes if you like,” Astarion says, his voice easy and calm. “You are not alone in this - none of us are. We can even compare notes if you like.” ”You’re allowed to hate me for this” ”I don’t hate you, because this isn’t you. Whatever it is you’re is dealing with, you will get through it, and I’ll be here to make sure that you do.”

Part 2 of "Fields of Crimson and Gold" Ongoing fic 15 chapters updated twice a week. Read the rest here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62711359 @iruin on AO3 18+ Astarion X Durge The Ritual

~2~

  As you walk through the doors open to The Dread Lord’s Abattoir they reveal the ritual pool of blood, the echoes remain behind you. Sarevok demands that you “Take the life of the Celestial and embrace your role as the Unholy Assassin”. Without thought, you move forward, daggers in hand. Astarion walks behind you, fangs bared.

You walk with purpose toward the ritual pool, dagger gleaming in your hands. Astarion follows close behind you with his fangs ready to devour the captured Hollyphant. Valeria demands you release her and continues to berate you just like she did before. Yes, even celestials can be total assholes.

“If you demand release, I can give that to you,” you say, your voice low and filled with malice. You stalk toward her and stroke her ear before pulling her head back. “Astarion, have a quick sip, just leave some for me.”

Valeria begins to thrash and cry out, gasping when Astarion lurches toward her faster than the wind, pushing his fangs deep into her neck, drinking quickly and withdrawing. “Your turn, love,” he grins and backs off. You released the celestial; the bite dazed her, and she slowly floated before you.

Drawing your daggers once again, your arms quickly crisscross, slicing the thick skin of her neck with ease. She falls to the temple floor, gurgling sounds slow as the blood leaves her body. Sarevok and his Echoes chant the unholy words of Bhaal.

Turning: Turning to face Astarion, you lock eyes with him. You undress, dropping your weapons' belt to the floor, followed by your leathers, boots, and undergarments.

You stand there naked, confidently stepping into the sacrificial pool of blood. It’s warm and freshly filled with mostly willing Bhaalists claret.

As you descend, waist deep, eyes still on Astarion, you kneel and fall under the crimson warmth; celestial blood baptizes you. Upon rising from the pool, you are Bhaal's Unholy Assassin.

As your vision clears, you see Astarion is eyeing you hungrily while removing his own weapons and leathers. Neither of you speak as he fully undresses and strides toward you down into the warmth of the pool until he is face to face with you.

Part 1 of "Fields of Crimson and Gold" Ongoing fic 14 chapters up, is updated twice a week. Read the rest here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62711359 @iruin on AO3 18+ Astarion X Durge Prophecy 1

One night in a thousand years, you shall watch the stars collapse in the heavens In each other's arms and thee will be broiled to the bone. Then you will know that Lord Bhaal has claimed what is and was long overdue.

Setting: The Epilogue Reunion

The reunion was winding down, laughter fading into tired murmurs as people retreated to their tents and bedrolls. Jaheira stepped up beside me, her presence calm but heavy. She gave a single nod. The night air felt thick, charged with all the things we hadn’t said. I hadn’t spoken of it—only Astarion knew—but somehow, Jaheira had already seen through it. A child. My child. And not just any child. Not with Bhaal’s blood, and a father who was a vampire.

She broke the silence, her voice a low murmur, measured and deliberate.

“It’s possible, you know," she began, her words lingering in the cool air. "A vampire who drinks from the divine... from a demigod especially... It makes you potent. And dangerous.”

I didn’t want to hear it, but I needed to. She had to tell me. She had to warn me.

“The child you carry,” she continued, her eyes unwavering, “isn’t just Bhaal’s heir. There’s more to your bloodline than his. You have a mother.”

I swallowed, the words landing heavy in my chest. A mother. The thought had never crossed my mind. The weight of it almost crushed me. I had no mother—had never known her. Never even wondered.

Jaheira’s voice softened, but the gravity of her words remained unshaken. “Her name was Lady Solara. She was divine. Born of Amaunator, the sun god, and Sophia, the Deva of Solania. Her wings... they shimmered with gold and amber, like the first rays of dawn. Bhaal took notice of her, as he always does. He came to her, cloaked as a moon elf named Tauran.”

Jaheira paused. There was no need for more. I could already feel what was coming.

“Bhaal sought to claim her in ways only he could,” she continued, her tone darkening. “He performed a ritual—older than time itself. He called upon the pact... Sanguis Cavea, the blood cage. Vines of crimson spread from the earth, twisting around her, silencing her cries. She was trapped, unable to escape. And then he revealed himself. Dread lord Bhaal.”

The words struck like a hammer. I could hardly breathe. Jaheira’s voice didn’t waver, but there was a weight to her words, something that felt like both empathy and forewarning.

“She was a Solar once. A being of unimaginable power. But Bhaal—he cared little for that. He saw the divine essence in her, the heart of dawn itself, and he took it. He drained her blood, stole her magic, mixed it with his own... to create his ‘Chosen.’ You.”

A chill swept down my spine. The words rang in my ears. My mother.

Jaheira’s eyes locked with mine, and I could see that same quiet strength that had always carried her through the hardest moments. “Unlike Dame Alyin, your mother wasn’t spared. Once Bhaal had drained her of everything—her blood, her essence—there was nothing left. He kept her alive just long enough to see his creation come into the world, and then... he ended it. He killed her. With his obsidian dagger.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, hearing her words echo in my mind, as though Solara herself stood here beside us, whispering her final breath.

“I may not have carried her in my womb,” Jaheira spoke softly, “but she was mine. Sunna. She was divine. Unlike any child Bhaal has ever sired. She came from the Heavens. And the sun—the sun will always burn away the darkness.”

The night seemed to freeze around us, heavy with the weight of the past. The pact. The blood. The chains that had been forged long before I was born.

Jaheira’s voice grew quieter, almost a whisper. “That pact Bhaal set in motion... It wasn’t just a ritual. It’s a bond—a chain that can never be broken. Darkness. Death. Madness. Forever bound, under a canopy of bloody stars.”

I opened my eyes and met Jaheira’s gaze. Her expression wasn’t one of judgment, but something far more difficult to face. It was compassion. The kind that carried understanding, and yet still, it burned with the sharp edge of truth.

“The child you carry,” she said softly, “is part of that pact. A link to something older, darker, than you’ve ever realized.”