#foolsfallcomic

Fools fall part 3/9

Pairing: Astarion x M!Tav/Named Tav 

Summary/Setting: Spawn-Astarion headcanon romance and friendship scenes of hurt, healing and love. Taking place between act 1 and 3. Lots of banter and companion interaction 🤍 

Rating/Warnings: T / game spoilers, mentions of astarions past, Trauma and PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack. 

read the entire writing on:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62732383/chapters/160598794

Surrender

When Astarion had decided to let go, A mixture of confusion and joy overwhelmed him and underneath, something deep and buried rose. He was digesting the reality of freedom and of all the years of trauma that was now screaming to be dealt with. But for now he just pushed it aside, he wanted to be free and in love. Not bound by his past existence. Surely what they felt for each other could just heal it all. 

And so it felt for the first weeks at least. After Astarions confession about his failed plan of seducing and not falling, Astarion felt a warmth he hadn't in years. The time they spent  was fun, teasing and sweet like honey. Every so often he'd catch Maos sunlight eyes resting upon his face from across camp and Astarion would give him a warm smile, one he hadn't given to another person for gods know how long. Astarion was courting a handsome, infuriatingly kind man who checked in on their boundaries every time they sunk deeper into intimacy, with every kiss and touch, they made sure he felt safe. And the hugs were his favourite. 

They didn't know what they called their little thing, but Astarion was falling. Falling deep. And before he knew it he hit the ground of reality, to be met with the monster that was residing in his mind, the years of trauma that had never seen daylight, that had forgotten how to be loved. 

Astarion was feeling sharp and cold on that particular night. They had been spending the day treading through the deepest of the shadow curse, it was tedious and tiring. Tensions were high and food was in short supply. And so when Astarion had finally snapped at Mao, about something insignificant who in turn retaliated, sharp tongued in the same demeanour, The monster inside Astarion was unleashed, it started spitting accusations raging with words that didn't even make sense. He hissed and barked like a wild animal fending off a predator. After their argument had seized an uncomfortably loud tone he whispered under his breath, words cutting sharply: "you don't even truly care for me, I'm yet another damsel in distress to be saved, so you can play hero." He wanted to leave there and then, let Mao rot in the pool of insults, but something within urged him to stay. Silence drew over them, but Mao just stood there.

The tension of the stillness rose so high that the thread from which Astarion held on to tore. Something within him had hoped Mao would know what to say, how to make this situation and all the horrid words disappear. But his silence said all the vampire spawn needed to hear to do what he did next. 

“Well, Good riddance then, darling” he said nonchalantly, heels turning. He could feel tears already running down his cheek, but he dared not to wipe them, lest Mao see his vulnerability. Then he ran. 

Although he didn't need oxygen, his nervous system urged him to breathe in and out rapidly, until his face became numb and everything that he’d been feeling overwhelmed him like a violent crashing wave. He didn’t have an anchor, no rope to hold onto, no net to fall back into. His senses flooded, body tensing. He stumbled into the dirt, tasting earth mixed with his own blood on his tongue, surrendering to the ground. 

Fools Fall

Pairing: Astarion x M!Tav/Named Tav 

Summary/Setting: Spawn-Astarion headcanon romance and friendship scenes of hurt, healing and love. Taking place between act 1 and 3. Lots of companion friendship scenes too 🤍 

Rating/Warnings: T / game spoilers, mentions of Astarions past, Trauma and PTSD, flashbacks, panic attacks.

Read entire work on: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62732383/chapters/160598794

Chapter 1 - Falling

At the beginning Astarion thought of Mao as the fool who fell in love, but soon he began to realise that it was him who was the fool.

Unexpected things started to happen after Astarions luring instincts kicked in. Although Mao, the gentle Tiefling, seemed to be falling head over heels in love with the vampire and was certainly lured by Astarions front of making himself as palatable as he could, matching whatever the other desired, there was more to their spending their time together; before Astarion knew it, Mao started calling him his ‘dear friend‘. If Astarion had admitted how he felt  he would have called him one back. Most of the time Mao was infuriatingly kind yet He could be feisty and fiery. He had an unpredictability that intrigued the other. The pale elf realised that on many occasions he didn't even make an effort to wind him up around his little finger with sweet nothings. Being himself, whatever was left of that was...Enough. 

Maybe if they had met in another life they would have loved one another in the most sickly sweet way Astarion could think of. But in this one, he had to look after himself, this situation didn't leave room for galavanting around with friends, let alone romantic relationships. Lest he risk a stake through his heart or worse, Cazador would take his freedom once more. 

Still, every now and then Astarion imagined himself in this little make believe life, and at least it made the whole ordeal a tad easier, stomach knots unravelling with each laugh and gentle touch. 

It became a habit, staying up late together, chatting about all sorts of silly meaningless things. Astation felt himself falling easily into playful embraces and conversations. Even though their relationship had stayed platonic so far, there was an unspoken attraction between them, arms brushing past, lingering touches all felt exciting. Every now and then, a hand lingered a little longer on Maos shoulder and every now and then Astarion caught himself observing him from afar and smiling to himself. He wasn't luring anymore, he was falling. 

Usually with a Mark to be taken to his master, Astarion would have already seduced the target as soon as they showed willing, but with Mao he hesitated. He knew that he could have him, claim him, pull the strings tight around his neck to lock him in as his net of safety. Maybe it was his new found freedom of his autonomy to do what and whom he wanted with his body. Or maybe it was the fear of the tainted act sex had become to him. Not sacred or special, something you do out of love and desire, but a tedious ordeal that turned knots in his stomach and one did for survival. Besides, he appreciated the space Mao gave him. He felt respected. 

One evening, as the events of the day unravelled in front of the campfire in the form of epic tales, laughter and toasts to living another day without turning into mind flayers, Astarion found himself next to Mao, unable to focus on the chatter, and frankly, he didn't care about goblins fought and druids freed. Momentarily he was preoccupied with the little circles Maos hands were drawing on Astarions skin. First it began with an accidental placement of hands and a following remark on how cold Astarions hands were. “Darling, you forget I’m undead, this is what it's like” was not enough for Mao to be discouraged in trying to warm them up. “Well, mine are always quite warm, they could do with a bit of cooling.” he said. So throughout the evening their hands always remained close. The touch itself felt intoxicatingly warm and he couldn’t help but ponder what Maos lips felt like. Mao himself was joining the telling of stories, laughing at Gale’s silly jokes and joining Karlach in joyous Tiefling chants. Although preoccupied with bonding with the other companions, his hand let the other know he was there for him and that he cared.

Then one after the other, their companions slipped into the shadows, retreating to the comfort of their tents until once again, Astarion and Mao were left to their evening ritual of watching the embers disappearing into the dark of the night, conversing about right and wrong, life and death, hurt and healing. 

But tonight, they embraced the silence and gentle touches of their hands, finding their way to entangle themselves. Their fingers as though dancing with each other, embracing, trailing, stroking. If his body had needed sleep, he could have easily sunk deeply into it as he felt a deep sense of safety. They lay back against the logs, a blanket draped over their bodies, which were closer than ever before. Astarion closed his eyes and let himself slip into the reality of his daydreams, pushing aside his worries of recapture and torment. For now he was just here, with Mao, enjoying kind, loving touches. 

Maos fingers brushed the white soft curls that had fallen over his eyes out of the elf's face, Astarions vocal chords humming involuntarily by the brief touch. The Tiefling continued to trace Astarions features with featherlight fingers, over his eyebrows, temples and lips which tingled in anticipation, he opened his eyes to gaze into golden infernal eyes that lit up with something Astarion hadn't seen before. He shifted his face closer to Maos to inhale the scent of desire in his blood and leaned into his warm hand, eyes closing - inviting.  Then their lips finally met, releasing hours of longing and dancing around each other.

Astarion shuddered at the tingle that the soft touch of Maos lips sent down his spine, warmth taking over his entire being. A sensation he didn't feel was too unfamiliar. He had fallen for someone before, kisses and tender touches feeling divine. Suddenly a sharp jolt of emotion flooded his senses, dread rising within. A memory pushed itself into his mind, a crushed skull, of a person he dared to love, someone he kept secret from Cazador. But there were no secrets he could keep from his master. And it was always punished the hardest. He would be sorry for daring to touch another soul in the same way again. Astarion felt the clammy blood on his hands, as he held his lover's beaten face. He blinked and gasped until he realised there was no blood, there was only Mao, concerned eyes trying to connect. 

„—starion?“ Mao said, unease spreading across his face. “Astarion, dear, are you alright?“ Astarion felt nausea surge in his stomach. Maos gentle squeezes on his arm pulled him back into reality. “Oh…I'm sorry“ he stared blankly for a moment, before he could realise what was happening. He attempted a casual smile „I exhausted myself today. I… I am sorry, I should probably get some rest. It's been a long day” Before Mao could say anything

Astarion broke away and disappeared into the darkness surrounding the camp. Leaving the other wondering and contemplating. 

Astarion paced frantically, he attempted to push the memory far back where it belonged, another century, another lifetime. 

He just had to get back on track, put on that mask that he wore so well, speak words dazzled in flirtatious promises and poetic verses. And put up a thick wall between him and his feelings. This whole ordeal would get him into trouble and he could not afford thinking of what would happen to Mao, should Cazador ever find them. He wasn't allowed to care for someone else. Astarion was not going to give up his freedom, no matter how tempting. 

He was bound to break, but in that moment Astarion saw no other way. he was fumbling, grasping the lucky thread that his survival hung by, it was wearing thin. He thought that maybe by forcing himself to sleep with Mao, like he did with so many times with his targets he might feel that nausea in his stomach return, a knot that would make him repulsed by the other and make it so he could just use him for the intended purposes, make himself stop falling, stop feeling. Just surviving. It had to work. 

At the celebration with the tieflings the next night, he composed himself, mask locked tightly in place: tonight he would pounce.

Part of himself felt a sort of loss after they had slept together. it felt as though he had betrayed himself in a way. Another part of him fell deeper, unexpectedly. 

Fools fall - part 4/9

Pairing: Astarion x M!Tav/Named Tav 

Summary/Setting: Spawn-Astarion headcanon romance and friendship scenes of hurt, healing and love. Taking place between act 1 and 3. Lots of banter and companion interaction 🤍 

Rating/Warnings: T / game spoilers, mentions of astarions past, Trauma and PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack. 

read the entire writing on:

Unravel

eyelids felt too heavy to open, he tried to move but his body ached from cuts and bruises. But there was a small pleasant sensation, a warmth to his cold skin, a fire perhaps? Maybe for a moment longer he could indulge in this moment, before he had to deal with reality. After all, a warm fire was a good sign.

His shifting had stirred whomever was around him. A large hand squeezed his arm, scents of lavender and thyme filled his nostrils, before he knew it rest and darkness surrounded him once more. And when it did, nightmares also found him. His mind rummaged in forgotten corners, things long forgotten digged up. Then cazadors chains closing in on him. Like Snakes wrapping itself around his neck, ropes burning into his flesh. And a vicious horrendous laughter mocked him “YOU. CANNOT. RUN. BOY”

His body jolted up, like a caged animal, he scrambled through the dirt grabbing anything that looked sharp enough to aid in his defence. Astarion frantically  tried scanning his surroundings, his eyes still blurry from sleep. Then a calm composed voice urged his body to pause „No worries my friend, all is well, you’re safe. “ Astarion tried to focus his eyes, there was a large figure sitting on a log, hands up in the air. It was the druid. Astarion sighed in relief, loosening the grip on the knife. Then a wave of fresh blood caught his attention, he was starved. A large rabbit hung next to Halsin. His eyes glinted with hunger. „Please, help yourself, you must feel exhausted. It’s fresh, I just caught it. „ he gestured towards the animal „I’ll leave you to it.“ Within a moment, the Druid turned bear and wandered around the little camp he had set up. Astarion could hear him tapping around, he didn’t venture far. He was unsure whether it made him feel vulnerable or safe. Although he was still getting used to kindness by his good doer companions, and often still met it with distrust and an uncomfortable feeling of owing, he appreciated the druid's gift and care with gratitude. 

They spoke only a few words in the hours as his wounds were being healed. Halsin had found him attacked by shadows and he explained people at camp were worried about him, but that he should take his time before they headed back. He assured that Mao was okay. Astarion was grateful and the silence was comfortable and it gave him a moment to digest what had occurred with him and his partner and everything that followed. He’d been having flashbacks for a long time now, but because his entire existence at the palace was miserable, it didn’t feel significant. But out here it was different, he felt cornered by his memories. How could Cazador have such an effect on him, even in his freedom? 

“Halsin, there’s something I’d like to ask you.” Astarion broke the silence, Halsin gestured for him to go ahead. “Is there a spell that can heal one’s mind?” The Druid offered a warm smile and spoke:

“Sadly the short answer is no. There are spells that can help, calming ones, For example. But no spell can take it all away. That is not to say healing is impossible - it is in many ways, my friend.”

“And what are the ways you speak of?”

“Well I’m not an expert, but I always start by communing with mother nature.” 

“And what if the trees don't want to talk to me?” Astarion said sarcastically.