#bg3 fluff

Camp life had gotten more glamorous now that the group had reached Baldur's Gate and had gotten to the Elf Song. Plenty of room, a lot of bed, and a mattress to sleep on at night. But with this, you had noticed a certain druid get more and more uncomfortable as the days went on. Halsin’s always been more comfortable with nature, and thats not a hard observation when you get to know the man. So thats why you had decided to drag him out of town for a few hours, letting him be more one with nature again. 

The walk in itself had been filled with thoughts of the adventure you all have had until now, his joy in lifting the shadow curse, and the worries for the fight ahead. But sure enough, the two of you soon found your way into the forest on the outskirts of town, listening to the birdsong, smelling the fresh, clean air that wasn't polluted by the busy city, and the feeling of grass under your feet. 

You don't know how long the idle banter had gone on for before he suddenly stopped in his tracks and shushed you. It was startling at first, but then you see it. Not far ahead of where the two of you are standing is a small stream. In the stream, you see a giant bear hunting for fish, and right at the bank, 2 small cubs are waiting patiently for their mother to get their dinner. You just stand there watching as the mother catches a fish and feeds it to her cubs, mesmerized at the adorable sight of them. And you turn to look at Halsin his eyes are practically twinkling while watching them.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63320188/chapters/162213937

K — Kiss

how do they kiss? who initiated the first kiss?

Each and every kiss with Minthara is done with a degree of passion, intent, and roughness that you’d be hard pressed to find with anyone else. She pulls you in with an unwaveringly strong grip, crashes her lips against yours, kisses you until you’re so lightheaded you fear you may collapse the second she lets go, and then pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against yours — smiling more with her eyes than her lips as she massages your hips and sides with her hands, unwilling or perhaps even unable to bring herself to let go of you for even a second. It’s all deceptively intimate, forceful at a first glance but filled with little gestures that show just how deep her affection for you runs even if she may not necessarily be able to bring herself to say it.

As nonchalant as he always seemed, you'd noticed that he'd donned a rakish hunting cap over his curls and exchanged his regular clothing for a leather armour ensemble. Let it never be said that Astarion didn't get into the spirit of things.

Dusting off your knees, you rose to your feet.

"It's ... not always as simple as casting a spell. Each species has its own unique behaviour, traits and dialects. You've got to have a fair understanding of what makes them tick. Offend a squirrel and it may lead you to an owlbear cave instead of buried treasure."

He groaned and clicked his tongue.

"Sounds like a lot of work, if you ask me. I've only ever learned the spells and cantrips that get me out of tough spots."

Considering those words, you watched the small starling you'd recruited flit away through the treetops, ready to begin scouting your path ahead after the promise of some delectable insects.

You turned back to Astarion.

"Now that I think about it, I have heard tales of vampires being able to command beasts."

His expression soured and he waved a hand dismissively.

"Oh, that's plain old domination. All the beasts of the soil and air, at your command. Ravening wolves, infected with bloodlust, ready to tear out your enemies' throats."

Pausing, he shot you a quick look before turning away.

"It's nothing like what you do. You actually ... speak to them. Understand them. You don't try to control them, or treat them with ... cruelty."

Without waiting for your reply, he strode forward through the trees, in the wake of the starling. Staring after him, you felt a telltale surge of tenderness in your chest, the kind that you'd been feeling increasingly often in his presence.

Brow furrowing slightly, you hurried after him.

When you did manage to catch up, his equanimity seemed to be restored. Astarion's moods, once you knew him well enough, were positively mercurial.

He slowed down and walked at your side, touch occasionally grazing your wrist. You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again.

After a few more minutes, you felt his little finger curl briefly around yours, giving a small tug.

"What's got you in such a brown study?"

You turned to him, expression serious.

"Well, I was thinking ... would you like me to teach you the spell for speaking to animals?"

He stopped dead, blinking in surprise.

"Well ... I certainly wouldn't mind. But what's this in aid of? You and Halsin have far more mastery over the skill than I do."

"It doesn't have to be for a specific purpose. Just for you to see what it feels like. You can practice on your own after I teach you the rudiments. And maybe ... then we can speak to animals together?"

You watched him, taking in his reaction.

Astarion was an exceptionally handsome man, there was no denying it. Every facial expression and gesture was an extension of his deadly charm and effortless magnetism.

It was when he looked at you like this, however, gaze trusting and guileless, hesitant, a fleeting radiance in his smile, that your heart raced and you knew, with certainty, that you'd made the right call.

"Hm. I suppose ... I'd like that. Yes. Who knows what I could achieve with a skill like that?"

His tone was flippant, cheerful, but you saw the way his eyes slid away from you, the way the tips of his ears twitched. He looked almost ... bashful.

You placed a handle gently on his arm before resuming your tracking of the starling.

"Good. I think you'd be quite talented at it."

Considering Astarion's usual attitude to such matters, you're surprised by how seriously he takes the matter of learning the simple spell.

He appears one evening at your tent, when most of your other companions have turned in for the night. It had been a fairly relaxed day, one focused on receiving deliveries of goods at camp and making sure that stores of valuable items and potions were replenished.

Astarion seats himself before you, hands placed on his knees, scarlet eyes alert and trained on you.

"Well, darling, here I am, at your disposal. It's time to don the robe of spellmaster and educate little old me."

You grinned back at him.

"Please don't let Gale hear you call me spellmaster."

"Why? It might do him a world of good."

"Right before he comes at me with a certified board exam to prove my credentials. Now, raise your hands. Like this. Perfect. I'll teach you the basic incantation first, then we'll focus on channeling the Weave."

He is a remarkably quick study. His eyes never leave your hands, your lips, your eyes, your gestures as you take him through the process. It's hard not to feel somewhat flustered by such rapt attention. You don't fancy yourself the best teacher, but you do try, for his sake.

When you feel that he's mastered the basics, you clap your hands together and rise.

"Right! It's time to put your skills to the test."

He arches an eyebrow.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Cast the spell on yourself."

He complies, eyes closing briefly, the thrum of magical power matching yours as you also speak the words and feel the slow shift in your mind. Astarion flexes his fingers, nodding slowly.

"I think I've managed it. So, where do we take the lesson from here?"

Instead of replying, you whistle loudly. Astarion sits bolt upright as the eager patter of paws approaches your tent. Scratch noses his way in, tail wagging furiously as he spots both you and Astrion waiting for him.

"Friend! And Fang Friend! Both here! What are you doing? Do you have something for Scratch? Are you doing magic like wizards?"

You watch in silent fondness as Astarion's eyes grow wider and he leans toward Scratch as if he cannot believe what he hears. His voice is low, hesitant.

"Scratch? I can ... hear you speak now. This feels ... rather odd."

The white-furred head whips in Astarion's direction and Scratch's tail stills for a minute.

"Fang Friend? You can hear me?"

Clearing his throat, Astarion seems to regain some of his composure. He offers Scratch a charming, if superior smile.

"Of course. I've just learned the appropriate spell, thanks to my sweet dove here. So, this is your voice. It does seem ... nice, I suppose."

"Oh, Fang Friend!"

Without further ado, Scratch launches himself at Astarion who lets out a decidedly undignified squawk at his actions.

"Wait! Stop at once! What do you think you're ... why are you slobbering all over ... excuse me!"

"Fang Friend learned to speak, just for me! For Scratch! Oh, great day! Happy day! Fang Friend is the best!"

"I certainly did not learn the spell just for you, you mangy little - "

Astarion pauses, one hand braced on Scratch's probing snout, as your laughter fills the tent. The dog instantly switches his attention to you, pouncing on you in delight.

"Thank you for teaching Fang Friend!"

"It's always a pleasure, Scratch."

Cradling his soft flank against you, you scrub at his belly, causing him to roll over in blissful abandon. Glancing up, you see Astarion watching you with that rare warmth, the kind that kindles his eyes to the soft hue of a sunrise over the sleeping forest.

Of course, it isn't long before Astarion's new knowledge starts to be employed in ... unique and innovative ways. You'd expected it, naturally, but he still manages to surprise, vex and amuse you at every turn.

One one such morning, you turn your tent and its contents upside down searching for your missing boot. Brow creasing in consternation (because you just knew it had been beside your bedroll the night before) you step outside, scanning the ground.

And spot Scratch, standing a few paces away, your boot clasped in his teeth. You frown, puzzled. He's never done that before.

"Scratch? May I have my boot back?"

Instead of complying with his usual obedience, he trots off, pausing at the edge of the clearing to ensure that you follow him. When he is certain that you're on his trail, he darts off into the trees.

Muttering under your breath, you push your feet into the spare pair of sandals you own, wondering what on earth had gotten into the canine.

You catch glimpses of him up ahead on the forest path, and he runs off each time you get close, leading you to something.

Eventually, you hear the rush of water up ahead. It must be the small waterfall where you sometimes go to bathe for a touch more privacy. Stepping out of the foliage, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight which awaits you.

Scratch has paused before the edge of the water, tail wagging happily now that he'd completed his task of luring you out here. Under Astarion's direction of course. That much is obvious.

Lying shirtless and seductively posed on his elbows, the vampire in question regards you with a coy smile from his vantage point on a rock. His pale skin glistens with water, the rivulets running tantalizingly over sculpted pectorals and the ridges of his taut abdomen.

"Oh, look who it is, Scratch. Our darling who'd been far too busy yesterday evening to spend time with us. Isn't it lovely that they're here?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Really, Astarion?"

He sits up, the razor-tipped smile exhibiting no remorse whatsoever.

"Well, you're here now, aren't you? Climb up here. The view is quite splendid."

"We have important things to accomplish today, you know."

"And Shadowheart won't be awake for another half hour. We both know that. Now hush and get up here."

Reluctantly, you clamber up beside him, Scratch following you, your boot still clutched safely between his jaws. Astarion insistently pats the rock surface where he wants you to sit, and you do, your side pressed against his rather damp one.

In spite of his provocative pose, you know that he simply wants companionship, the sweet affection only you can grant him. That much had been established during your conversation in camp, that night after encountering the drow merchant.

He turns to you, nose inches from your cheek, taking you in. You laugh and flush slightly under his intense scrutiny.

"Stop staring."

"I can't."

His voice is low, rough-edged with sincere affection. You turn your head and your lips slot perfectly against his. He draws you in, one arm curled around your waist, kissing you tenderly, softly.

The moment is broken when a furry head butts in between your forms and Scratch drops your boot into your lap.

"Fang Friend said you'd be happy, and you are!"

You lean across and pinch Astarion's side.

"Fang Friend had better watch himself. Abusing the power I've given him already is a risky business."

Surprisingly, Astarion didn't seem to mind Scratch's intrusion. His fingers drift down behind the dog's ears absently, his gaze taking in the waterfall, the sun over the treetops, you.

You decided that the little distraction was worth it, when he looked like this, like an ordinary man enjoying the morning air, the wind tousling his unruly curls, the corners of his eyes and mouth upturned in relaxed amusement.

Speaking with animals certainly had its merits.

The next time he makes use of his newfound power, it's obvious that he's been practicing without your knowledge in order to surprise you.

A convoy of Absolute cultists is making its way towards the main encampment, caravans laden with valuable supplies throwing up a cloud of dust from the road, heavily guarded on all sides.

Squinting out from your vantage point on a rise nearby, you bite your lip. You are heavily outnumbered, and the guards look like no slouches. Attacking head on would be out of the question.

Lae'zel shifts restlessly beside you, but she can clearly tell when strategy takes precedence over brawn. Astarion taps his fingers against the boulder you are crouched behind before a sly smile tugs at his lips.

He glances over at you and signals that he'd like to handle the distraction. You pause, uncertain, but he seems sure of himself, and Astarion never takes unnecessary risks in such perilous situations. Nodding, you watch as he slips into the shadows.

The caravan trundles along, undisturbed, until you begin to hear exclamations at the rear and front. Raising your head over the boulder for a quick look, you can make out many small, dark, darting shapes, pouring in a steady stream from the nearby trees.

They wheel, flap, buffet their wings against the faces of the guards who swing their weapons in wild arcs and hit nothing. Shadowheart turns to you, eyebrows raised.

"Those are bats."

Bats?

But wasn't that-

You had no further time to process that thought, because you'd spotted Astarion. The increasingly dense flock of generally nocturnal creatures had surrounded the entire caravan, preventing his passage from reaching the guards' attention. He cut the lines holding the wagons together, darting back out of sight as the heavy vehicles teetered and pitched backward, rolling down the hill towards the water below.

Shouts and desperate cries from the guards and merchants now reached your ears. They scrambled and tripped, swiping at the bats, trying to stop the passage of the errant wagons.

It was all in vain.

Astarion slipped away, into the shade of the trees once more, while Shadowheart readied the appropriate incantation. She focused, drawing on the weave, freezing the water just below the surface of the river so that the caravans would be submerged, but not so far down as to be unrecoverable.

As the team on the road below stamped, swore and made arrangements to call in assistance from the encampment to help them salavge the goods, bats streamed into the area behind the boulder where your party still remained hidden.

Dark wings took on a more corporeal form, and suddenly, Astarion was with you again. He smirked at your collective expressions.

Keeping your voice low, you hissed incredulously at him.

"How did you manage that? I thought ... that only - "

He completed your sentence, smug.

"That only full vampires could conjure animals like this? You'd be right, sweetheart. I haven't conjured any of these fine fellows."

Lae'zel was now looking supremely confused.

"But they're clearly following your lead, elf."

"Well, that's only because I've been getting to know them quite thoroughly over the past few weeks."

Now you were truly stumped.

"Getting ... to know them?"

"Why, yes! They inhabit a cave nearby. Granted, I've had to wade through my fair share of bat droppings, but it was certainly worth it."

He pointed to the bats that had perched on his shoulders and on the nearby branches.

"This is Balthazar, that's Bella and here's Brissinger. They were the first to approach me. And over here is Hilda, their second cousin, once removed. Here's Gerald, Jarvis and Phillip. They're triplets, would you believe. And this one is Laila. She's awfully shy, but she's partial to berries."

A silence followed this introduction. You coughed slightly.

"Astarion ... did you ... get to know each and every one of these bats? You befriended them?"

"But of course! Isn't that a lot better than commanding them to do what I want? We're all happy acquaintances and they'll help when we're in a pinch."

Shadowheart was staring at him a little less politely.

"And you keep telling me that I'm touched in the head."

Lae'zel snorted.

"Seems like you've found a work-around for vampire powers. Useful, if somewhat laborious."

She peered down towards the road, where the remaining Cultists were slowly trekking further away towards the encampment to obtain the help they'd been speaking about. The smaller guard that remained would be easily dealt with. She patted her sword and grinned.

"We can take them. Let's move."

As she descended the slope, Shadowheart following closely, you turned abruptly to Astarion, gripped him by the collar and pulled him into a swift kiss. One of the bats gave what was, unmistakably, a hoot.

Parting with him, you spied his pleased, if confused expression.

"What was that for, my sweet?"

"For being marvelous."

"Ha! Just wait until you see my bat cave."

After most battles, Astarion could generally be found at his tent, having cleaned up and tended his wounds. It was during these more relaxed evening hours that he would bring out his special spark lantern, burning brightly with a near-blue flame, to illuminate the repairs he effected to his clothes and armour.

Even though you'd assured him that you could afford to replace damaged items, he insisted on darning the torn edges of cloth, mending the split segments of leather, fixing metal plates into position. The activity seemed to provide him some means of relaxation.

When you sought him out, you certainly weren't expecting him to have company. And yet, there it was.

The sound of voices, engaged in what seemed to be a most riveting conversation.

"Well, how very rude of them!"

That was Astarion's voice. The reedy-sounding answer caused you some confusion. You didn't recognise the speaker. 

"Rude! Rude! Rude humans!"

"But you must have done something about it, surely?"

"Pecked holes in all her pumpkins, I did."

"You didn't! How wicked!"

A raucous laugh sounded from within his tent. You sidled closer, now infinitely curious. Astarion was speaking again, tone low and confidential.

"You know, I heard from Titchwittle that she doesn't even maintain the thatching on her roof. All kinds of vermin nesting in there."

"Ooh, he's right! He's right! We won't go near it! It's crawling with nasty things."

"I suspected so. I saw her haggling the life out of the vendors at the market, so one would think her husband's managed to save up enough by now to mend things, but there we go."

"Have you been on any roofs? Ingis said he saw you! Saw you! Sneaking at night!"

"Well, how very perceptive of him. As a matter of fact, we did raid an arms dealer last week. He must have seen me then."

"He did! Ingis did! Said your hair looked like a wet cat's fur in the rain, he did."

Astarion gasped, scandalized.

"He said what?"

"Wet cat! Wet cat!"

"Oh, I'll give Ingis a piece of my mind when I see him next. Who is he to judge? His feathers look as healthy as a zombie's scalp."

Unable to resist the burning curiosity, you pushed the flap of Astarion's tent aside.

There he was, surrounded by the paraphernalia of his sewing kit, the fluorescent light from the lamp illuminating his pale features and the ... companion he was clearly enjoying a fruitful gossip session with.

A raven.

It was perched on a nearby wooden stand, eyes bright and watchful. Astarion looked up at you as you entered, expression mildly outraged.

"Darling, did you hear that? Can you believe someone would call me anything other than beautiful?"

Perhaps, the most memorable occasion during which Astarion had put his animal speaking ability to use had been the time he'd attempted to tutor the spiders.

On the subject of how to have sex.

You'd returned from the city one evening, having purchased some supplies, expecting a hearty meal to sate your ravenous appetite.

What you found instead was a cooling cook pot and Gale hunched over in despair, begging Astarion to stop, please stop, for the love of all things good in the world and didn't he even care about Gale's appetite?

Hands on hips, aspect stern, Astarion was firmly ignoring the wizard's pleas. He rapped the stick he held against one palm.

"Gale, stop your whinging. Just look at them. Such poor form! No finesse, no stamina, a series of anaemic in-and-outs and they're done! How atrocious! This isn't acceptable."

"They're spiders, for the love of - "

"You there! That isn't how you hold your mate! Wrap your legs around her further. Yes, that's it. Now reach. Yesssss. You can do it. Put your back into it, fellow."

"Oh Gods, please, someone make it stop - "

"And you! Do you think I can't see exactly what you're doing? Keep your fangs away from him until he's done. Hells, control yourself. Bite off his head and his pedipalps won't reach your opening, I can tell you that."

Gale's haunted gaze met yours and he hurried over. You tried your best to control your features as he grabbed you by the elbows to steady himself.

"Can you ... do something about this? He's got these... spiders lined up over here doing mating drills."

Patting Gale's arm reassuringly, you made your way over to where Astarion was watching his eight-legged disciples with a critical eye.

He spotted you and beamed, walking over to plant a sweet, searing kiss on your lips. One the spiders couples, having witnessed this, promptly went into overdrive. Astarion tutted fondly at them before wrapping his arm around your waist and gesturing to the spiders arranged before you in ... various stages of copulation.

"I saw a few of them going at it in the woods and darling, I was appalled. No wonder their population is dwindling. Their courtship rituals and mating strategies are deplorable."

"I'm certainly not complaining," muttered Gale, who was busying himself with the stew again to blot out the sight of the writhing arachnids.

You nodded earnestly.

"Oh, I understand. Without balance, an ecosystem cannot function."

Behind you, Gale whipped around, ladle pointing at you accusingly.

"Gods, you're no better than he is."

Astarion took you by the hand and led you closer.

"And now, my sweet, it's time to lavish these ignorant souls with your own knowledge. Go on, tell this one here how it's done."

You knelt and observed the attempts of the much smaller male, scrambling to find purchase on his chosen mate's back. Shaking your head, you raised a hand.

"Now, listen here. Sometimes roles must be reversed during mating. Sometimes one partner must be dominant, and other times, they should switch. Try a new position, maybe with you behind and under, instead of on top. That way, your pedipalps can reach her better."

Astarion clapped his hands, expression positively ecstatic.

"Oh, did you hear that, students? That's my darling for you! Always so perceptive. They knows exactly how to undulate their sweet waist when they're being dominant too - "

Gale had well and truly had enough. He strode over to the two of you, energy crackling along one finger as he pointed it at you like a weapon.

"I'm going to count to three. And this class had better be dismissed by the time I'm done."

Astarion hurriedly scattered his ardent pupils, calling after them.

"Same time next week. But we'll meet in the forest. Wouldn't want any of you getting singed by a certain someone while you're in the throes -"

"Astarion."

"There. They're gone. Not a single trace of them, Gale."

Gallantly offering you his elbow, Astarion escorted you to your tent with an air of wounded dignity. As soon as Gale was out sight, you both collapsed, wheezing with laughter.

"Did you see his - "

"Oh hells, his face."

"And the way he looked when those two spiders really started going at it - "

"Shhhh, he's making stew. And I'm starving. Don't distract him any more!"

Astarion straightened and swayed a little from side to side, expression playfully miffed.

"My treasure, all that teaching has worked up an appetite in me too."

"Come here."

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling him against you. It had been a long day, and you hadn't been with him for most of it. You did miss him, even though you'd only been away for such a relatively short time.

Burying your nose into his shoulder, you spoke, voice slightly muffled.

"First bats, then ravens, and now spiders?"

"I'm a vampire, darling. I must cultivate a certain ... aesthetic."

He bit down gently on the side of your neck, fangs scraping across the surface of the skin.

"But before I drink my fill, you need to eat. As hungry as I am, I can hear your stomach rumbling loud and clear."

You leaned back and regarded him mischievously. 

"Not as hungry as some of your pupils, it seems."

"Oh, they're hungry enough to eat each other, my love. And not in the nice way, either."

The corner of his mouth curved as you laughed, that devastating smile now filled with a warmth that had been glaringly absent when you'd first known him.

How far you both had come, how much faith you'd placed in this blossoming love that somehow continued to raise its delicate head through the crushing weight of peril and conflict.

As with all his endeavours, Astarion had taken your gift and made it his own. Be it gregarious ravens, or lustful spiders, you knew that nature would answer Astarion's call.

How could it not?

It had watched him struggle, despair, overcome and flourish, and if your years in the wild had taught you anything, it was that nature rewarded its most glorious survivors.

gale, clever and quick-witted wizard that he is, would lose all semblance of composure as soon as he sees the bloodied slash down your arm. he’d curse the fool who dared to hurt you, curse himself for not being there to take the hit in your place, curse the sun, moon, stars, and everything else that was watching over you but didn’t keep you safe. all the while, he’d be calling on the Weave, pulling at it like threads on a tapestry, focusing it on your wound—he’d unravel the sky itself if it meant you’d be alright. despite your reassurances that you’re fine, he can’t stand the thought of something wanting to taint a person as perfect as you.

lae’zel would admire your wounds—not for their cruelty, but how beautiful they make your body look. the fact that you’re still standing strong, muscles rippling as you move towards her, means that she’s picked her partner well. she sits you between her legs, gently cleaning and wrapping your cuts, murming to you in hushed Tir, the susurration of the gith language calming your nerves. she traces the outline of fresh red bruises turning purple on your biceps with the devotion of a scribe copying holy texts. she burrows her nose under your jaw, reveling in your scent of sweat and vigor.

astarion usually wouldn’t be caught dead being seen feeling concern towards someone, but it’s written in every furrow of his feline face when he looks at you. as you limp into camp, he’d usher you quietly to his tent—to save both of you the embarrassment of vulnerability—and demand you tell him exactly where it hurts. he’d cut you off before you can insist that you’re fine, his hands skimming carefully over the obviously painful cuts across your body, especially the one at your side. you’d wince as he peels the bloody fabric away, and he’d hiss at the sight. but you’d find yourself in quick, capable hands as he positions himself behind you. you’d chuckle at his intermittent quips despite the pain in your side as he carefully stitches the gash. but the aching distress on his face won’t leave until you’re sleeping peacefully at his side.

halsin sits you sideways across his lap. he’s a rumbling wave of comfort as he tucks you up against his broad chest. he guides your breathing as he works, and you soak in the smell of damp earth and warm fur, despite him being in his human form. the pain from your wounds became nonexistent as soon as he put his large hands on you, and you’re enveloped in a dizzy haze of utter peace. you eventually doze off to the tranquil symphony of his steadily thudding heart, his soft breathing, and the wind through the oaks.