#bard reader

Some may have been overwhelmed going to such a large school; your required literature class had at least one-hundred students filling the bustling lecture hall. With this many people, it was easy to blend in, and that meant it was easy to fall asleep unnoticed.

‘This is the last time’, you thought. With all the rehearsals and projects, you knew you were lying to yourself. Still, that didn’t stop you from resting your head on the table and drifting off to sleep. You woke up to find class was over, people awkwardly shifting past you as you stirred in your seat. You lifted your head, only to see a sheet of notebook paper next to you. You looked it over, the page filled with notes on today’s lecture. In the margin was a note, right next to what looked to be a doodle of a cat.  

‘I hope you’re able to get more rest! Hope this helps :D’

You looked around, trying to see if whoever left behind the notes was still there. It had to have been from whoever was sitting next to you. You didn’t know his name, you had looked over at him a few times, but you hadn’t spoken to him throughout the first few weeks of the semester. You took the page and made a note to thank him next class, assuming he’d sit next to you again. 

You made it through the rest of your classes, and decided to take another look at your arranging project, setting your things down at one of the sitting areas within the music building. Relaxing within the quiet hall, you re-read the guidelines; 

Must be a duet, with one performer being outside of the class. 

Both parts must be different instruments.

Must include piano accompaniment. 

It felt needlessly gratuitous. You didn’t know many people outside of other vocal majors, your magic related classes not starting until next semester. You sat at the table, looking over a few potential options. You had already had the assignment for a few days, but still couldn’t even decide on what to rearrange. The deadline was approaching quickly to get the first draft completed, and you needed to figure something out. 

Slowly but surely, the hall got louder, more and more people walking towards one of the large rehearsal rooms. You checked the time; sure enough, this was when the marching band held their rehearsals, the loud sound of rain keeping them from going onto the fields. The entire hallway was quickly crowded with people moving in and out of the room, waiting for their rehearsal to start. The sounds of horns, drums, and woodwinds leaked out from under the door, a symphony of unorganized noise as people practiced and conversed; some of the band students were just as loud as the instruments they played. 

You thought about getting up to leave; after all, a school this big, the marching band had hundreds of people in it, there was no sense trying to get work done here. On the other…perhaps you’d work up the courage to ask one of them to be your duet partner.

You looked around, trying to see if there were any familiar faces. There were a few people you had seen around the music building before, but no one you particularly recognized. You were just about to give up when you saw another boy walk in, and immediately you recognized him. It was the boy who you sat next to in your literature class, the one who had to have taken notes for you. An elf, he seemed sweet; a bit awkward in how he carried himself, wide-rimmed glasses covering his face as he held an instrument case in his right hand, but he didn’t seem unapproachable. 

You stood up, walking over to try and meet him before he walked inside the rehearsal hall. You made eye contact with him for a brief moment; this was your chance to call out to him and ask if he’d help you. Yet as soon as you figured out what to say, he nervously looked away from you, walking towards the door a bit faster. 

You called out, following him. “Hey, wait!”

This time he stopped, looking back at you. He looked terrified.

 “I, uh,” he stammered over his words, “are you talking to me?” 

You nodded your head, “yeah! You’re the guy who sat next to me today in lit, right?” 

He looked a bit embarrassed. “I mean, I sit next to you everyday, but…yeah, that uh, that’s me.” 

Had he really sat next to you every class? You hadn’t noticed until now. “Oh, well…thank you. I mean, I’m assuming you’re the one who took notes for me today.”

“Yeah, no problem, I know you’re tired a lot… I mean I don’t know that, but you sleep in class a lot, so I just assumed…I’m not trying to say you’re lazy or anything like that, but…” he trailed off, as if just now realizing how much he was stuttering on.  “Sorry, I uh, I just wanted to help.”

Perfect. 

“No, no I appreciate it. It’s sweet. Actually, I was wondering if you could maybe help me with something?” You asked, glancing down at the instrument case. “What do you play?”

“Saxophone. Well, alto saxophone, if it makes a difference.”

“Cool, so I have this project for my arranging class, and I need a duet partner who—”

You were interrupted by the sound of the band director’s voice calling out; it was time for their rehearsal to get started. He looked behind him, “I’m really sorry, I need to get going but…I can take a look at it.”

You rushed back to the table where your things sat, quickly grabbing a sticky note and a pen. You scribbled down your name and phone number. “Here,” you handed it to him. “Just uh, text me when you can, and I can explain it. I hope your rehearsal goes well,” you smiled, giving him a wave and walking off, not wanting to get him in trouble. You looked back, and he was still just standing there, dumbfounded by the interaction before one of his friends dragged him inside the rehearsal hall. 

You headed back to your dorm room, finding yourself glancing at your phone every few minutes to see if the boy had texted you. You weren’t sure when rehearsal ended, and part of you worried maybe you had come on too strong. You didn’t want to scare him; you hadn’t even heard you play, but…you sort of knew him. Sort of. Things moved so fast you hadn’t even learned his name. 

🧡: Hi! It’s the saxophone player/the guy that sits next to you in lit :D my name’s Taleisin by the way

🧡: what song are you doing? 

🩷: thank you for messaging me! I actually don’t know yet…I’m a vocalist and I need to rearrange something. For voice and something else, but I can’t have my duet partner be someone in the same class or another vocalist, and most of my friends are other vocal majors 

🧡: ohhh, that sounds tricky

🩷: yeah, it’d be easier if I played an instrument tbh

🩷: but I haven’t even started yet, I know it wouldn’t be a lot of time to practice ;-;

🧡: sure! Sounds like a fun challenge :D just let me know when you have the music done

🩷: thank you so much!! I’ll have it done by our next lit class

Now that you had a duet partner, it was time to find an idea and get to work. 

You watched as he looked over the sheet music, the paper still warm from printing it out just before class. He looked over it carefully, and you couldn’t help but be nervous. ‘Does it look too difficult? Does he think it’s bad?’

“This shouldn’t be too tricky,” he nodded. “Sorry I took so long, I just wanted to make sure I could actually do it,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I don’t want to mess things up for you.”

“No, no, not at all! I’m just glad you’re willing to give it a shot at all. Do you have a class after this one?”

“Not until 1:00, no.”

“Would you be able to practice after this class, maybe? I have access to the practice rooms.” 

“Sure, I’d just need to go grab my sax, but I only live like, five minutes away.” 

You made plans to meet at the music building, asking him to text you when he had arrived so you could let him inside the practice rooms. Once class was done, you parted ways, and headed to the music building to get set up before he’d return to campus. You warmed up, looked over your music, and met him in the hallway once he messaged you. 

You led him back to the hallway of practice rooms, shutting the door behind you as you walked back inside. You waited patiently as he unpacked his instrument, trying to make small talk to fill the silence. “So…how long have you played it?” 

He shrugged, “awhile, kinda on and off for the past uh…fifty years? Something like that.” 

Your eyes widened; you had noticed the pointed ears and angular face, but based on how he dressed and carried himself, you assumed he was around your age, even if he was an elf. “That’s cool. I’ve only been singing for…uh, I’m not sure actually, pretty much ever since I was a kid. I guess it was just something I always wanted to do, so I did it.”

“Like, a calling?”

“I guess so. What about you?”

“Honestly? My parents used to take me to orchestras and ballets a lot growing up.”

“Oh, that’s cute.”

 “Well, I fell asleep a lot.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “you’re not the first person I’ve heard say that.”

“Now I get it, but…there was this movie that came out around then, and there was a song with a really cool sax solo in it. So…I decided to give it a try. I was really bad at being consistent with it, but I figured if I finally went to college I’d need something to do, you know, a way to make friends I guess, so…I kinda just hyper fixated on it until I was good enough to play the music for the audition. It’s kinda dumb-”

“Not at all. It’s more interesting than what I said.”

You got started, and things were going well on a technical level. Occasionally one of you would miss a note, or go ahead of the other, but for a first run-through you were happy with it. You practiced a little longer, before both of you were happy with your progress. 

For the next few weeks, he’d come to the music building and practice with you. You had to tweak the arrangement a few times, but the hard part was over; now, you just had to practice. 

You learned more about him in the time you spent together; he was a computer science major who lived alone in an apartment off-campus. He played in the marching band and the jazz band, and most of the people he hung out with were other non-music majors within the ensembles he participated in, rather than people in his actual major. He was the same year as you, a sophomore. Maybe he was a bit shy at first, but his eyes seemed to light up whenever he talked about anything he was passionate about; computers, games he played, music and movies he enjoyed, and even telling stories about his friends. You went from hardly noticing him in your lit class, to talking to him nearly everyday. Sometimes, he’d even bring two energy drinks; giving you one to make sure you stayed awake in class. 

It was the last day you had to rehearse with him, the performance of your arrangement in two days. You stood outside the door to the practice rooms, only to find your ID card wasn’t working. You’d slide it through the slot in the door, only for the light to blink red instead of green. 

“Shit,” you mumbled, giving it another try before the light stopped blinking altogether. “I don’t know why it’s not working.” You had to practice today, this was your last opportunity to pull everything together. “For some reason my card isn’t working,” you mumbled. 

“Oh. Uh…is there somewhere else we could practice?” 

You looked over at him, awkwardly avoiding making eye contact. He told you he lived alone. You could go practice over at his place. That’s when the intrusive thought hit you.

It came and went quickly, but the vision that flashed through your mind was enough to give you pause. The thought of you on top of him, kissing him and making him whimper from the feeling of your body. You hadn’t known him that long, but you liked talking to him. He was sweet, attractive in a dorky but cute way. Maybe he was a bit of a loser, but he was much nicer than most other guys you had spoken to on campus. From the looks of it, he’d be lucky to have someone like you interested in him. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, noticing you zoning out. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking…you said you live alone, right?”

He nodded, “yeah. We could practice there, if you wanted.”

You smiled, “that’s just what I was thinking.” 

He drove you to his apartment, and you couldn’t help but be a little nervous. Would you actually make a move on him? ‘If he's the type of guy with a gross room and just a mattress on the floor and nothing else, then maybe not…’ He led you inside, and you were happy to be proved wrong. It looked…surprisingly normal, when you first stepped inside the apartment. 

“Sorry it’s a bit messy, I haven’t cleaned since the last time my friends were over,” he mumbled. 

It wasn’t messy at all. Lived in maybe, but far from the horrors of the frat boy bedrooms you had seen before. “It’s okay. Sorry I had to make you come right back here,” you joked. 

“It happens,” he shrugged, setting the instrument case down. “I guess we should get started then, right?”

‘I won’t make a move on him until we run through it successfully at least once, we still need to actually practice,’ you told yourself. ‘Worst he can say is no.’ 

You managed to run through the piece a few times, both of you feeling confident. Yet you couldn’t help but look at him, noticing him stealing glances at you out of the corner of your eye. Then again, you were doing the same thing. Maybe he had the same idea, maybe he just caught you staring. 

You were just about to wrap up your practice when you worked up the courage to say something. “You have class at 1, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“If you want I could just stay here and hang out until then. That way you wouldn’t have to go back and forth.”

His eyes widened, “sure, if you’d like to. I mean, if you want to go back, I don’t mind, but if you wanted to stay-”

“Cool,” you smiled, putting your music away in your backpack before sitting back down on the couch. He moved to take apart his instrument, his back to you. That’s when you got an idea. 

Maybe it was a bit bold, but it’d certainly get the point across quickly. You listened as he spoke about the weather, unsure if it’d rain or not for marching band practice later in the day. You took your shirt off, your tits still covered by your bra as he continued. “Yeah, they don’t really cancel practice ever, since we can just go inside, but there was this one time last year where—” he turned around and stopped, staring at your breasts. “Uh…you took your shirt off,” he mumbled, still unashamedly fixated on your cleavage. 

“Mmhmm. Is that okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, totally, for sure. I uh…” his tan skin flushed. “If it’s like, hot in here, I can turn on the air conditioning or—”

“I wanted you to see them.” 

He paused, wide eyes blinking back at you. “I…huh?” You watched as it finally clicked for him. “Oh…I get it, I think. I-I’m not really sure what to do now though. Or if I’m missing something.” 

You shrugged, “what do you want to do now? Or…is there something you want me to do? I can put it back on, if you’d like.”

“No, no, that’s…that’s okay, this is…this is good,” he stumbled over his words, still standing in front of the instrument case. “Could I uh, could I still sit next to you?”

“It’s your place, go ahead,” you giggled. He sat down, still keeping a bit of distance, but close enough to touch you. “I can take more off, if you’d like to see.”

“Only if you want to, but…I’d like to. To see, I mean, if you’re okay with that.”   

You reached behind your back and unclipped your bra, your breasts fully visible for him to see. He seemed entranced by you, watching your movements as he shifted his legs closer together. You were smart enough to know what he was trying to hide. He was speechless, looking you up and down. “You’re…” he mumbled, “you’re really pretty.” 

You smiled; you had him under your spell. “Thank you. You know, you could touch them if you want.” 

“A-Are you sure?”

You nodded, “I’m sure.”

He moved slowly, his hands shaking as he put your hands on your chest. You winced at his touch, his hands cold. He pulled away fast, startled by your reaction. “I’m sorry! Did…did I do something wrong?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “No, no your hands are just cold, I wasn’t expecting it.” You put your hands over his, gently guiding him back to your chest. 

“Sorry, I haven’t ever done this before. Or…anything like this, before,” he said as his hands touched you once more. From what he had told you, he was much older than you, despite looking the same age. Had he really gone through decades of life without even touching a girl? On one hand, it was a little pathetic. On the other, that meant you’d get to be his first. 

“That’s okay. If you want…” you moved your body closer, moving onto his lap as your plush thighs hugged him. “I could kiss you.” 

He looked up at you in awe, his hands still touching your chest. “Yeah, that…that would be cool, sure,” he stuttered, nodding his head. 

You leaned in to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck as your chest pressed against him. You started to grind back and forth on the obvious bulge in his pants, deepening the kiss. Every time you moved, you could hear his quiet little moans, sneaking out between breaths. You started to move faster, and his moans only got louder. He didn’t try to hide his pleasure at all, and that made you only want to go further. 

He wasn’t the best kisser, but there was a certain charm in his lack of experience. He didn’t know where to move his hands, awkwardly moving them to the side as you pressed against his chest.You kissed him deeper, slowly slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he followed your lead, whimpering through the wet kiss as you grinded your covered wet pussy against his cock. 

You pulled away, catching your breath as you both looked back at the other. His face was flushed, he looked exasperated. He covered his mouth with his hand, “fuck, sorry if I made too much noise, I don’t know if that’s weird.”

“I liked it,” you grinned, “I think it’s cute.”

“Oh. Then I’ll…keep doing that, I guess.” 

You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “we can stop here, if you want. Or…we could go a little further.”

He paused, thinking it over. “I’m…I’m not sure. I mean, I want to, I just…I might not be any good. I don't want to disappoint you.”

You caressed his face with your hand, “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful. I could just take the lead, if you’d like.”

“That’d probably be best.” 

You moved off his lap in between his legs, running your hand along the outline of his cock. ‘Is he really that big?’ you thought. You undid his belt, looking up at him. “Can I take it out?”

He nodded his head, biting his lip. You unzipped his pants, eyes widening. You weren’t sure what you expected from a guy like him, but it wasn’t something so long and thick. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” you offered him a reassuring smile. “It’s a lot. But I can do it.” You weren’t so sure of yourself, despite what you told him. Precum was already leaking out the tip, the boy gripping the edge of the couch before you had even done anything. You took his cock in your hand, slowly stroking it back and forth. You rubbed the tip with your thumb, watching as he let out a breathy moan. 

“That…that feels good…”

You smiled, “I can show you something even better.” Before he could formulate a response, you started to lick the tip of his cock, letting out another whimper. 

“Holy fuck, that-” he couldn’t finish his sentence, overwhelmed by the sensation of your tongue moving up and down across his cock. “That’s, that really feels good,” he moaned. His cock now wet with your spit, you took the head of his cock in your mouth, still teasing him with your tongue as you started to lower yourself down, taking his cock as deep as you could. 

“Oh shit, you feel so good,” he moaned, watching as you eagerly sucked his cock. You struggled to take the full length in your mouth, choking at the base of it. “You don’t, you don’t have to do that, I’m sorry.” 

His cock left your mouth with a satisfying pop as you came back up. “I want to, though.”

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself, even if it feels…really good.”

“Trust me, I’m fine. Just…try to relax a little, okay?” 

He nodded his head, mesmerized by the sight of his cock right by your face. “I’ll try.” 

You quickly got back to work, bobbing your head back and forth on his cock as you felt it start to twitch in your mouth. You couldn’t stop, the sound of his moans and whimpers only making you want to tease him further.

“Wait, I think I’m gonna cum, hold on,” he cried out. Yet you kept going, undeterred. “I can’t, I can’t go anymore, fuck!”

The bitter taste of his cum flooded your mouth. You kept your mouth on his cock, lapping at the tip as he came. When he finally finished, you swallowed it all; he must’ve been quite pent up. 

He covered his face with his hands, sounding as if he was about to cry from the embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, I just, it felt really good, I tried to hold back, I-”

You crawled back onto his lap, shutting him up with a kiss as he was still catching his breath, tasting himself on your lips. “I wanted to. Don’t apologize for giving me what I wanted,” you grinned. 

He seemed almost dumbfounded by your response, “I…uh, well, you’re welcome then, I think. That was…I had a lot of fun,” he said as he rested a hand on your side. 

“We don’t have to stop if you don’t want to,” you wrapped his arms around his neck, giving him another kiss. “I don’t mind having a little more fun while we wait for you to get hard again.”

“I’d…I’d like that, I just,” he glanced over at his phone, looking at the time. “Oh fuck, I’m late!” He panicked. You got off of him reflexively, watching as he stood up and quickly tried to put himself back together. “I’m really, really, really, sorry, but I’m late for class, and I can’t miss it, I’m really sorry-”

You wiped the spit away from your mouth. You understood the panic from being late all too well. “No, no, it’s okay, but…you have my number, if you ever wanna do something like this again,” you said with a reassuring smile. 

He stopped in his rush, the panic subsisting for just a moment as he looked back at you. “Yeah. I’d…I’d like that. Maybe…if you’re not doing anything tonight? We could do…the rest of it? I mean, the rest of like, what we started, unless that’s all you wanted to do, which is totally fine by the way, we could just hang out,” he trailed off, unable to think of any more words to fill the silence. 

You walked back over and gave him another quick kiss, one he eagerly returned before you pulled away; if you kept going, he might’ve forgotten he was late all together. “I’ll text you my address. Pick me up at eight. Does that work?”

He nodded his head quickly, “yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“Good,” you said as you ran your fingers through his hair, making him look just a little less distressed. “I’m looking forward to it. Now come on, let’s head back to campus.”

All in all, it was a very productive practice session.

Part 2

SO my blog got taken down and I still wanted to write something for him while it was gone, so I wrote this. Now blog is back, but I still wanted to post it as I really liked it. I know I mentioned rewriting stuff, and it wasn't a super popular idea, but I wanted to still post this with the idea of continuing the original series as one that's more light-hearted, while making this one a bit more plot/worldbuilding/lore heavy, as I have a few other OCs in this setting as well, and I didn't plan on using my own worldbuilding from the get-go of his original story.

I also wanted to write him being a bit of a loser baby sub for a bit longer too so...yeah :D

If this is my first work you've read, then hi!! I like elves and I like modern urban fantasy and im a slut. thats abt it.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! Thank you for reading :D

In the beginning like any relationship started with Astarion, it wouldn’t be romantic from his part in the start. You, being a bard, have met and experienced a lot of people, so you can read between the lines in his actions though.

You aren’t cruel when it comes to helping others, not one to fit the stereotype some people seem to have for Tieflings and bards. You are just perspective, and you’ll need a reason to do something, having been burned so many times in the past by trying to be good.

Early on, before you knew he was a vampire, the two of you could regularly be found sitting a bit away from the fire at night as the others slept. You would play your instrument at a low volume, as the sound helped your allies sleep, and Astarion would stay nearby since you guys were allies.

Overtime it would develop into something more, you two would flirt, and feelings would actually bloom. It even reaches a point where you might start writing poems or songs about Astarion and your feelings for him, though you’d never show them to anyone, especially not Astarion, his ego is already big enough.

Astarion would struggle with the feelings he is developing for you, as we all know he would. In the beginning he would deny it, and try to convince himself that it was just something going hand in hand with lust, or something about being free and in the sun.

As the story goes on though, we all know that Astarion becomes softer and finally accepts his feelings for you. The two of you being shunned in ways from society, him being a vampire, and you being a Tiefling, probably helps build some solidarity too.

After you guys officially get together, hed start making jokes about you writing ballads about him and his excellence, and you’d joke there’s no need for that. In the end he would figure out the songs you wrote about him before you guys even got together, and of course he preens like a peacock.

I don’t know if Tiefling blood tastes different or has different properties, but to Astarion, the first time you let him feed on you, he would never be able to feed on anyone else. You are perfect to him, from the top of your horns to the tip of your tail.

When you guys cuddle your tail curls around him, and it even seems to do it without you realizing during the day. It becomes a joke amongst your friends, much to your embarrassment.

You being a Bard and Tiefling also means higher charisma, you two are probably lethal when it comes to persuasion or anything involving your charms and lies, especially when you work together.

I don’t know if Astarion plays any instruments, since he wouldn’t have been able to do so for all the years, he’s been under Cazador, or I assume so. But even if he did, I could imagine him asking you to teach him how to play your instrument.

“Oi Runt!” A slurred voice calls from the alleyway behind you, “where da hells the money?” Your body tenses as you hear your caretaker drunkenly yelling for you. Practiced hand allows you to stuff a quick handful of coins into your pocket before walking towards the alley. As you step into the shadow, you miss the way the group continues to watch you as you retreat. 

“Bah! Took ya long enough!” Your caretaker sways and snatches the coin filled hat, “Hpmhf, barely enough in here to get drunk. Yer lucky I’m in a good mood.” The threat at the end of that sentence is not lost on you as you watch the man stumble back into the street. “Find yerself somewhere to sleep tonight, we leave in da mornin.” Biting back a sarcastic comment about his so-called good mood, you go deeper into the alley. Between the smell of candied apples and the silk banners floating above the rooftops you can’t help the smile. It won’t be so bad sleeping in the street tonight, maybe there will even be discarded festival food around. Food brings awareness to the uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. Two days without anything to eat brings a sigh from you as you jingle the handful of coins you managed to get. Clutched in your hand you find some copper and even a silver piece! Though what catches your eye the most is a crumbled piece of parchment. 

Stepping to the side of an oncoming group of festival goers as you enter a new street, you pull apart the paper. Written in very neat calligraphy reads, “The Traveler”. It’s some sort of religion? The few pages talk about pranks and are filled with little drawings that make you giggle. You especially like the mage hand giving a wedgie to someone. You read through the pamphlet a few more times before safely tucking it away in your pocket. Mixing into a crowd this large is easy and before you know it you are munching on some festival food. A large part of you wants to inhale the skewered meat you bought but that small rational part of your brain keeps you from doing so. You eat one stick with much gusto but save the second stick in your pouch. It would be a good breakfast, after all. Between the rousing games and chatter and songs and peddlers, you loose track of the dusk until it is late into the night. Loud drinking and even more singing keeps you on your toes and helps to keep you out of sight. Nights like these are your favorites. Nights where you don’t have to worry about where to stay, or how to eat or what your caretaker will do to you. For a few blessed hours, you get to just enjoy being alive.  

Yet before you know it the crowds begin to disperse. Drunks are wobbling their way home, the bards are packing up, and the vendors are cleaning out the last of their stalls. With a stealthy foot and a cautious eye, you manage to find an alleyway tucked away in just the right spot. The Guards pass by without giving it a second look but there is enough room to spread your legs out and lean against the grimy stone wall. A shiver runs up your spine as you huddle into yourself. Harvest close meant it was turning to late fall now. Snow would be in the winds soon and having this pleasant of a night will be a distant dream. Star dotted skies and food in your belly help lull you into a stiff sleep. A smile on your face as you think of the wonderful festival day. 

You startle awake, immediately with your hand clutched on the small dagger in your shoe. Though blinking the sleep from your eye leaves you staring down at your legs. A striped cat looks up at you from its perch on your knees. After you blink at the cat for a moment or two, it sticks it tongue out and you can’t but giggle. With more caution than strictly necessary, you present your hand to the creature. Nuzzling and purring makes your smile widen as the cat happily accepts scritches from you. For a few moments the cat simply enjoys your attention before it scampers off towards the opening of the alleyway. With a sigh you snuggle back into yourself. It’s still dark out, and now its cold enough to see your breath. Before you can close your eyes again, a meow sounds off at the end of the alleyway. The cat is sitting, staring at you. Slowly you untangle yourself and step towards the cat. They bound up and begin to walk in front of you, only a few paces ahead, constantly checking to make sure you are still following. 

Shivering but with a small grin you follow the cat to a small inn close to the pentamarket. The door is slightly cracked open and the cat slips in. In for a copper, you think as you press yourself into the warm building. The smell of ale and chicken hit your nose as you let out a relieved sigh. You had not realized how cold you were until you can feel the heat slowly melting the freezing temperature from your bones. There are seven patrons left in otherwise empty bar. Looking over the faces you recognize them as the odd group from your performance. They all pause in their conversation and turn to look at you. Except for the human women in blue, who is currently face down on the table with a bleeding head wound.

“Frumpkin, I asked you to find a healer.” A man with copper colored hair and a dirt covered face addresses the cat before bringing his eyes back to you. For a moment, you are lost in the sensation of familiarity in those blue eyes. Haunted. Much like your own eyes.

“UUUhhhhnnnnnn” the sitting woman moans against the table. The head wound still gently oozing blood.

“Hair of the dog that bit her?” You ask to the group with a knowing smile, your caretaker is much the same after a night of drinking. Barfights typically the only thing ending his nights in the tavern. You pull out your lute and begin a soft soothing tune. Almost like a lullaby, its tones melt into a soothing melody. Once the last cord is struck, you gently touch her shoulder and can feel the tension leave her body. The wound on her forehead sealing shut and some of the swelling going down. The woman pushes herself up off the table and blinks for a moment.

“Holy fuck that’s better.” She grunts and you can’t help the smile.

 “You may feel better, but no more drinking tonight, okay? You need to rest.” You keep smiling at her even as she leans away from you with a confused look. 

“Who the shit brought the gnome?” You snort at her abrasive tone. 

“Not a gnome ma’am, just a kid following a cat.” You look down and wiggle your fingers at Frumpkin, and the cat happily attacks your fingers and purrs when you scratch their head. “Though next time you need a healer just go to the hospital, silly little friend.” With a final giggle you look back up to the adults now all staring at you. Thankfully the tiny creature in the porcelain mask breaks the silence when they look up to the blue Tiefling. 

“I thought you were a cleric, why couldn’t you do that?” Based on how the half orc leans away the loud response was expected. 

“Well it’s not my fault I’m traveling with a bunch of people that keep getting hurt and stuff! The Traveler can only do so much in a day!”  

“The Traveler?” You pull out the pamphlet from your pocket, “You mean like this one?” Immediately the blue Tieflings eyes light up brilliantly as she hops up and down. 

“You read my pamphlet for the Traveler? Isn’t he the coolest, and he can do so many things! He’s honestly like the best God ever.” The blue Tiefling is speaking so fast you can barely keep up but the excited tone has you smiling up at her, “Did you like it? The pamphlet I mean, because obviously you like the Traveler now.” Another giggle escapes your chest, you’ve been doing that a lot more today than any other time the past year. 

“I really liked the pamphlet,” you say and somehow the blue Tiefling smile brightens, “but this drawing of mage hand giving this person a wedgie is my favorite.” Both of you break out into small laughter. 

“Oh! We haven’t introduced ourselves! We are the Mighty Nien! I’m Jester! That’s Fjord, Nott, Molly, Yasha, Caleb, Frumpkin, and the one at the table is Beau.” 

“It’s a pleasure to make you acquaintance.” You give an exaggerated bow towards the group. When you return to standing, Jester is smiling at you, while Molly and Yasha exchange a look. Fjord, Nott, Caleb, and Beau have a similar expression of confusion and something else you can’t place. 

 “What’s your name squirt?” Beau asks as she folds her arms over her chest. There is a rise of panic in your chest. When was the last time anyone asked your name? When was the last time you ever used your name? What the hell was your name?             

“Er…um..w-well,” your stammering buys you a little time to catch a breath and calm a bit before plastering on a smile, “I c-can’t give away all my secrets now can I? A kids gotta stay on their toes, ya know?” Even your well-trained smile doesn’t crack the expression on Beau’s face, her eyes piercing into you. 

“Where are your mama and dad? Won’t they be worried if you’re out this late at night? Should we go look for them? Are you lost?” Jester’s face gets closer and closer to yours with each question you ask and you can’t help the stiff panic that overtakes you. Adults that get that close to you can mean a lot of pain. 

“Jester,” the dirty man, Caleb gently says, “maybe ve ought to not badger them, ja?” Relief washes over you as Jester backs up a bit, still giddy but now not next to your face. The way your shoulders sag when you have space again does not go unnoticed by most of the group.   

“Whoever the fuck you are,” Bea grunts as she stands, “thanks kid. I owe ya.” 

“Just promise you won’t get into another bar fight for at least…three more hours and we’ll call it even.” Beau’s lip twitches ever so slightly at your sly smirk. 

“Well, were not a group to leave our debts unpaid.” The purple Tiefling, Molly says, though that statement is met with many scoffs, “How about we treat you to a meal kid, to say thanks for healing our trash person.” Just as you are about to deny, to excuse yourself back to your alleyway, your stomach gives a loud rumble. Molly and Jester laugh, and you smile sheepishly. When a hand grasps your shoulder, you can’t help but jump and spin on your heel. Your hand positioned to start casting a spell. Fjord is standing behind you, hand still raised but his face now fully that emotion you can’t place. 

“Didn’t mean ta startle ya, just thought maybe we could all find a place to sit.” There is a gentle nature to the half-orcs tone that eases your nerves. But not so much that you stow away your lute fully. The group shuffles over to a bigger table and sits while Molly and Yasha go to the bar ordering food and one last round of drinks. 

“That was a complicated spell for one so young, vere did you learn?” Caleb chose a seat a few away from yours, making it easy to look at the man as he speaks. Though Frumpkin jumping into your lap pulls your attention away from his gaze. 

“Magic is a new thing for me Mr. Caleb.” Petting Frumpkin as they purr in your lap, “I’ve been playing music for a while and one day I was watching a performer. They made all these crazy images and sparks and even made this fake dragon, and it was so cool! I decided I wanted to try so I started watching magic more carefully, ya know? Like how plucking a string or the rise of your voice can change how you make the magic flow!”  When you look up Mr. Caleb has a ghost of a smile on his lips and the others are staring at you fully. “’M sorry for talking so much.” You hunch your shoulders and bring Frumpkin closer to cover your face. 

“None of that darling,” Molly places a bowl with hunk of bread and some soup in front of you, “we asked a question, you answered. No shame in that.” He gives you a wink and starts handing out the drinks to everyone. Except for Beau who grumbles something about a meddling brat under her breath. When side conversations and drinking start, you feel safe enough to inhale the food. Forgetting how wonderful it was to have more than scraps or finger foods. You don’t slurp your soup, but you do eat it with the ravenous hunger that has been gnawing at you. Little strips of meat don’t compare to homemade soup and bread. After you finish, the group is engaged with different conversations, and you happily sit and listen.

“So anyway, Caleb asked about your magic. Did you really teach yourself? How did you learn? Is it different than other magic?” Jester is looking at you, leaning in on her hands as she smiles. There is something so disarming about her smile that you can’t help but answer. 

“I’m self-taught, mostly from watching other bards use magic.” You say, absently rubbing Frumpkin who has nestled into your lap. “As for it being more different than other magic, um, well it depends on the type of magic I guess.” 

“What about Caleb’s magic,” Nott perks up, “he’s so skilled and powerful, how is yours different than his?”

 “What kind of magic do you do Mr. Caleb?” Caleb is decidedly not looking up from his cup. 

“I-ah do transmutation.” Caleb eyes dart around the wood of the table. You know that school of arcane! You’ve seen students from Rexentrum cast all the time when you are in the city. 

“Oh okay, I think I can show you then.” Digging through your pack, you pull out your notebook. It’s a frail thing, barely having any seem left but the pages are still mostly attached to the binding. 

“Here, so one of the cantrips in transmutation is prestidigitation. When Mr. Caleb casts it, he uses this spell structure.” With a practiced hand you draw out the cantrip. Making sure the semi circle and runes are placed just so. “Then he would have to use hand motions to copy the marks to make the magic happen.” You happily turn your journal out towards the group so they can see and wiggle your fingers in a similar pattern to show them what you mean. 

“For bards though the spell is cast through our music but it’s not a one for one thing, ya know? This semi-circle doesn’t equal a c sharp, though it would be much easier if it did work like that.” You chuckle to yourself and pull out your hand drum and give it a tap with the drumstick. 

“Depending on the instrument the spell can change. Drum, for instance, follows a similar pattern as the spell. So I drag my stick across the surface than hit the places where the runes are.” You follow the pattern and cast the spell, create a small blue spark that dances on the center of the table. “But other instruments can get more trickier, see with the lute, its not notes for runes. It’s more about the…ummm…how do I say this…I guess it’s more about letting the magic feel it’s way out than based on structure? When I see a new spell, I try to feel for the energy. Then I focus on the patterns while I play. It takes some time to learn magic that way but it’s the easiest for me.” As you stash your drum back in its place, you can feel the nien staring at you. Even as you pack your journal away and look from side to side. 

Caleb has his eyebrows raised and his hand on his chin, deep in thought as he stares at you. Nott is pushing a piece of paper in front of him but not looking away from where you put your journal. Molly, Beau, and Yasha are just sort of starting with their mouths open. Fjord’s gaze is on you but not focused, as he taps the handle of his sword. Jester has a look of wonderment on her face. The amount of attention is odd, though you are used to preforming, so it doesn’t cause you much stress. 

“Um…did I talk to much?” You ask, trying to break some of the awkward quiet.  

“Damn that’s impressive for kid so small as you. How old are ya?” Molly has a half cocked grin as the rest of the nien shake themselves out of staring. 

“Oh, I’m seven sir. Well, seven and three quarters. My birthday is on the day of the new year.” You reply with a smile. Much of who you are and where you came from is gone. All you can really remember is your time with your caretaker. He told you your birthday was on the new year, and you didn’t have any way to question it, so you agreed. There had never been a celebration of course, but it was still nice to keep track. 

“You, ah, must be very smart then.” The tall women, Yashsha, manages out. Much like Caleb she doesn’t like keeping eye contact. So you don’t try to force her. 

“Not really,” You say as you boop Frumpkin on the nose, “I just like learning songs and magic.” There are a few hums and then smaller conversations break out once more. You laugh when Molly starts telling a story from his days in the circus. And every now and again you try to peek at what Caleb is writing but Nott starts showing you her small collection of buttons and rocks to distract you. Time passes in the warmth and comfort of company and soon your day starts catching up to you. Between the soup in your belly and the warmth of the tavern you can feel your eyes beginning to droop. It’s bad to be so vulnerable around so many strangers but with these folks, it just feels nice.

“I think I’ve had enough ass kicking for one night, let’s call it.” Beau stands up and stretches out her back. The rest of the group begins to follow her lead and start collecting themselves. You bundle your thin clothes as much as you can and take a deep breath. Preparing yourself for the cold.  

“Vere is your coat?” You turn and blink at the question from Caleb, the rest of the nien are looking at you, varying degrees of that emotion again you are not really sure what it is yet.

“Oh-erm,” pulling your shirt closer together, “I wasn’t wearing one when Frumpkin found me.” Sheepishly you play with a button on your shirt before you can force a smile, “I was just out for some stargazing, but my caretaker isn’t far from here, I’ll be fine until I can get to him.” Some looks are exchanged between the adults, and you take that as your cue. 

“Thanks for the soup! And remember Ms. Beau, not fighting for at least another…twenty-three minutes.” Beau groans loudly as you give her a smile then wave to the rest of the group, making your way from the inn. There are not so hushed voices as you leave, but you ignore what is being said and start back towards your alleyway. Cold was much more shocking now, your breath clinging to the air. Morning was still a few hours away, so a quick nap before searching for your caretaker is the best bet. He probably won’t rouse until early afternoon anyways. Shivering you stretch back out into your spot once again. 

It feels like you just took a blink when you wake again. Your nose is runny and body stiff with freezing cold as you listen to the growing chatter of the town. Daylight brings some comfort of warmth as you manage to stretch your limbs back into place. Strolling into the day, you pull out the skewer of meat and much on it. There’s no way for you to find your caretaker so you mill about for a few hours. Morning turns into afternoon as you traverse Zadash and all its’ backstreets. Between inns and taverns, you don’t make much progress until you see a snoring crumpled form propped up against some crates. The stench of ale and piss hit you. Yup, that’s your caretaker alright. Heaving a sigh you pull your flute from your ragged pack. A quick upbeat tune begins as you let your magic ease and flow with the short notes. With a final little hop you let your magic wash over your caretaker. 

You had picked a non-touch spell, hoping that would be enough, that the distance would be too much of an effort, but this was not the case. A large meaty hand smacks you hard in the face and you tumble to the ground into the street. The throbbing in your face means you will be sporting a bruise come night fall. Your caretaker staggers out of the alley way and looms over you. Instinctually you curl into a tight ball with your arms over your head waiting for the worst of it. Yet it never comes, instead you hear a strangled choking noise. Summoning all your courage you peak up from your covered form and look up. Your caretaker stands pale and wide eyed at something behind you. Turning you see the might nien with weapons and spells drawn. 

“Guten Tag.” Caleb says with a fierce look in his eyes, a fire spell held in his palm.

“I think it’s in your best interest to walk away, friend.” Fjord has his weapon out, the heavy accent thicker than last night. Your caretaker looks at each one of the faces then his beety eyes look down at you. 

“Get up runt, we’re leaving.” He grumbles. You untangle your limbs and hurriedly stand but are stopped by a gentle hand taking some of your fingers. The flinch that goes through you does not deter the hand. Nott is standing at your side, gripping on to you tightly. A crossbow pointed at your now stammering caretaker. 

“Back the fuck up before I shoot your eye out.” The high snarl and seeing the skin clearly, Nott is a goblin. Part of you should be concerned about that but at least the mask makes a bit more sense now. Your caretaker huffs.

“Take the runt, they’re not worth the space they take up.” grumbling your caretaker spins on their heel and bolts down the alleyway. Just like that, you no longer have a caretaker. He just left you. A deep sense of shock overtakes you, he just left you here with a group of people he has never met. Your caretaker never cared about you. There was a part of you that always knew but now it was slapping you in the face. Absently you squeeze the hand that is still wrapped around yours. 

“Hey,” Jesters’ voice is soft and sweet, “would you like me to heal that for you?” Her hands are outstretched so you can see them, she is still a safe distance away, waiting for you to consent. With a small nod you keep your body stiff as she gets closer. With a gentle touch and a soft hum of green light that smells like cinnamon, the hurt in your cheek fades. The hands don’t leave your cheeks.