#godstarion

„A god shall only walk once beneath the mortals, to learn about their realm. Wander disguised on Gaía’s plane. And when the young god returns, he shall remain forever with his own kin. Nor shall he ever again commune with the other creations and creatures of the blood from the ruler of the sky. Only watch the mortals from the pantheon, not interfere with their fortunes.”

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Whoever wrote these rules down, carved them in stone with lightning, did they even obey to them themselves?

The young god doubted this hard – very hard – while his divine eyes laid a look upon the greens grass and fields. Wandering over hills and tall trees.

Rules of the first hour.

Hardly followed by anyone – especially not his own father, the descendant knew that.

The only thing that was really followed and took place was that the young gods walked the earth once, so that one could know about the lives of those who worshipped them. To know about the fate of the world and all its inhabitants. Humans - in the end, they only made up a small percentage of all the creatures that lived between the underworld, earth and the divine realms.

Until now the young god, was not sure what to think. The earth was an interesting realm for sure. New and variety was always interesting. But he couldn't quite understand the rumors - which were almost certainly more fact than that - that some gods liked nothing better than to hang around there and interfere in the fate of mortals. The realm of the gods was full of splendor and endless wealth. Eternal youth, beauty. A home of gold and marble in the endless clouds.

Actually, they had everything you could want. Actually...or did they?

The divine head under the cloudy hair of the gods’ father’s son, changed his mind the second he laid eyes on a dryad hiding between the trees at the edge of a vine wreath field. Changed his mind like struck by lightning, you could say.

It was just a glimpse he caught of this tree nymph, until she merged again with the oaks and leaves.

So, he came back, day after day, after day.

Watched her gliding between the trees with loving touches and listening to the magical sounds from the strings of her lyre, that she played all by herself. The notes touching his soul and heart in a way that nothing had been able to do before. Even for a divine being, the god with a face and body of marble suddenly felt true...peace. He felt bliss, rapture and joy from deep inside.

At first, he watched her from afar, caught a glimpse of her figure and her movements, before he got an impression of her nature. Her behavior showed the immortal, the truth of their hearts.

Normally, the dryads hid and did not show themselves to the common mortals. But she kept stepping to the edge of her grove of trees and playing her lyre for the people.

Sad people. People who, out of lovesickness, sought the solitude of the trees. Poor people whose heads were heavy with the worries of everyday dough and the suffering of hunger. Heavy sighs and tears lured the Dryad out from between her trees and after she had made the sides of her instrument sound, the tears of the people dried up. A smile appeared on their faces plagued by sorrow and grief. They, too, probably felt these joys and ecstasy, as happened to the young God himself.

The dryads were subject to rules just like he and his divine brothers and sisters. But because they were not gods, they were actually bound to them. Just as their lives were bound to the trees. She and her kind could not bend laws of their species to their liking.

One rule they were subject to was that they were not allowed to show themselves to mortals! Every time a person saw a dryad, it cost them of their lifetime and their tree would wither sooner.

And although it snatched something of her own life from the tree nymph every time, she played for the suffering people, she showed herself to them and gave them her music.

Until one day he stood in front of her himself.

"Your tunes are beautiful."

The leaf-covered creature in front of him was startled for a moment when he suddenly stood in front of her and spoke to her. The sad, now enraptured human soul for whom she had played was gone, and the Dryad had disappeared again among her trees, when before her stood the figure that truly had nothing to do with a regular human being.

"But certainly, no less beautiful than what you are used to hearing”, she answered with a soft voice, recognizing him for what he was.

The flaming white eyes of the tree-nymph duly examined the imposing appearance before them. They scrutinized the fine white robe that adorned a body that defied the transience of the wilting leaves of the seasons. Fine as the sun and the rushing waves of the sea together.

The skin like marble come to life and precious as if it were sealed with gold leaf. His hair shining in the sun, as if each strand had been spun individually from silk and kissed by the wind.

A jawline, with lips worth every sin and prayer at the same time. As if poets had sung them and the muses themselves had painted them. Stroking their brushes over a nose and forehead to admire.

But it was the eyes that pierced her, held her, took her breath away, and at the same time drenched fear in her like honey, before his voice enveloped her in a warm wave of cashmere.

"It is an honor that a god listens to my music. But should gods do this at all?"

"So, you know that I come from the Pantheon?"

“With thy appearance, I think it is hard to hide the fact that you have little in common with humans. If I dare to say so”, the Dryad answered him, and he didn't miss the pink veil that lay over her cheeks after these words, and her eyes escaped his steady gaze.

He probably got this firm, unyielding look from his father. It was difficult to escape it and at a certain point you probably didn't want to do it anymore.

"I am a descendant of the gods who govern this world and the worlds above and below. As one of their children, I have enough time to go there and listen to what and who I want. No duties as a worshipped God await me. Still, won’t you tell anyone that I'm here?"

A smile settled on lips that didn't make his face look divinely imperious or strict, but just young and loving.

"If you promise not to spill my secret either," the Dryad's voice sounded trusting, while the smile of her mouth made her eyes shine as well.

So it happened that the young god fell in love with the Dryad.

And the Dryad fell in love with the god.

Not their kind.

Not their destiny.

Not what should be.

Not what was destined for both of them.

Nevertheless, the sharing of views from a distance became the sharing of time together side by side. At first conversations about each other's worlds, but then never about them. About everything else, but not about it.

They shared everything else.

Dreams, hopes, ideas and silence.

Until hands dared to touch. Lips dared to kiss each other.

The kiss of a god on the lips of a tree nymph.

Divinity, wine and song mixed with the eternity of nature, the life of the green and water.

Her lips and tongue tasted and vibrated to the young god like the majesty of music itself. The ringing and buzzing like the plucked strings of her lyre, they spread their effect in his mouth, over his whole body.

Let him feel, swing, vibrate, live, feel, enjoy, float as if in the clouds and in the water of infinity.

She was his whole world when he kissed her, and the young god with the face of heaven, with sun, moon and stars, wanted to give her everything.

All.

He wished to be able to put his divinity and all the beauty and wonder that there was into it. To give her the beauty of art and music rather than to be hers, if only he could.

After their kisses, their bodies lay together.

The Dryad's voice, at first timid, gave itself up to the son of the gods, in complete submission. Her throat moaned her pleasure over her lips like a play of the wind, while the firm male body pushed her and held her tight at the same time.

His body, which moved on top of her or under her, like molten steel. Steel it was made of, melted and reshaped into shining perfection on which the rays of the sun refracted.

The bright sun shining through the leaves of the trees of the Dryad. Leaves on which they lay and made love with sweaty bodies. The leaves that caught in his silk hair when they fell on him and that adorned her own head like a crown.

Her head with the crown of leaves and the horns, as if carved from the bark branches of her life-oak, over which his silky tender fingers glided.

From the tips down to her hair. Danced around the crown of green. Touching her forehead, her nose, her lips swollen from pleasure. Caresses especially her neck, collarbone and breasts.

As if he were stroking a silk cloth, the young god touched her body. The hands caressed her lovingly, tender and then again they gripped her quivering breasts and her hips firmly and longingly.

Drew the Dryad on his manhood and made her feel pleasure beyond her imagination.

Ecstasy such as no human should ever experience on the realm of mortals.

Their merging bodies, it was divinity and dying at the same time.

Heaven and earth.

Everything about divine pleasure and sin.

But for the son of the gods, it was not a sin. It could never be.

It was love.

His infinite, undying love.

But finally, the day came when the father of the gods called his son back to him, back to his side and to his relatives in the pantheon between clouds and stars.

Even though he tried to satisfy the god of gods with his findings, the young god could not completely conceal the truth that he was not really happy about his return.

His father and mother increasingly noticed that his mind was elsewhere with his thoughts.

Because as soon as it was possible, he traveled back down to the realm of men to the grove to be able to be with his dryad.

So that their souls and bodies could connect.

They lay together, naked in the rays of the sun under the glow of the moonlight, and wet with the dew and drops from the cool stream water that caught on their skin.

They picked touches and stole moments from time that they would never give back.

And if he couldn't be physically with her, his thoughts were still with her.

His commitment, ingenuity and contribution of how he wanted to help his father and the other gods with their tasks in the future and what task and missions he saw ahead of him were also extremely fluctuating. What was because when he came back from walking on Gaía's plane with his dryad, he sparkled with inspiration, but with every day that passed away from her, he lost his longing for action.

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The soft, full lips, descended with the body of the gods from Elysium, were just detaching themselves from those of the tree-nymph wrapped in leaves.

Moments they could share together meant everything and yet this time they had, been over so quickly again.

This was also testified to by their hands, which did not want to release each other.

They didn't want to let each other go. A veto of their bodies and hearts against the logic of the mind, which knew that their love only lasted as long as the gods did not know about it. Because the parents of the young god would immediately forbid their relationship and find ways to separate them.

"I have to go, my love. But I will get back to you as soon as I can," his voice sounded in her ears like the entire sky at once. Blue with the sun and the clouds in the firmament and in the evening decorated with the stars and the silver moon that showed you the way.

"Promised?" the soft voice of the Dryad asked sweetly, dancing like wind between trees and leaves in the mountains.

His hand, which was still holding hers caressingly, lifted it as a sign between them, clasped it tightly with both his hands and pressed her hand to his chest.

"Nothing, nothing in this world - beyond it, in the heights above or in the abyssal depths below, could ever keep me away from you."

The smile he conjured up on her lips was stronger than any magic and the expression on her face was as honest as he meant his words.

With all his heart, the young God spoke the words, for they corresponded to the feelings he felt within himself. He could say this to her. He could and wanted to be honest. No hiding, no pretending, no etiquette and no posturing of power. Just be. Honest and simple.

Just like the wind between their trees.

In the fields and the vines.

In the Pantheon, they all felt sorry for humans, but perhaps mortals had it better and easier than the gods.

Perhaps the humans possessed a secret and a treasure that the gods would never have and that the mortals themselves did not immediately recognize. The lucky ones had it and saw it. Preserved it.

The unfortunate ones did not have it. The envious saw this treasure in the hands others and wanted to rob it or destroy it.

Perhaps the gods themselves had also experienced a whiff of the taste of this treasure. At least some of them were drawn down from Elysium.

Just as the son of the almighty father of the gods had to rise again to his equals.

He left green grass behind. He disappeared between the trees that the forest nymph protected and which also hid the view of her, wandered between the vines and finally through the sea of golden wheat fields.

Golden waves on which they rode the sun's rays and behind them in the distance rose the mountains, endless peaks rose that might one day touch the sky and gods.

He was not granted a moment to pause and drink it in, deep inside of him. Because life always found ways to conspire against you and knock on your door unexpectedly: Suddenly his father stood in his way.

The fine statue of the son of the gods was frightened, and took a step back at the unexpected sight of his father.

The god of gods.

Here.

"You should not be here, son," he said appropriately and knowingly, his voice thundering like the incarnate thunderstorm itself.

"Father...", it slipped from his lips only puzzled and struggling for an excuse that just didn't want to come to his mind.

Because pounding panic in his chest took its toll on his mind.

The fact that his father was here was a clear sign. And not a good one. A very, very bad one.

A sign that he might never return here. But he could do much, much worse things. All these possibilities made the young god's heart pound against the marble rib cage, as if it could burst at any moment. In his thoughts only the image of his loved one.

"Should I give you the opportunity to explain yourself to myself, or should we both spare ourselves that?" the head of the gods drove forward, his stern gaze shattering like the lightning he could throw.

Nothing protected the young god from the judgment of his father, even if his face did not want to admit defeat completely. His head and face, which were made of the sky and the clouds itself.

"I have seen where you were going and who you have said goodbye to. A love affair here outside the realm of the gods. To this creature of trees. To the Dryad creature, blood from the ruler of the sky. She distracts you from being with your own kind," he said, and then added insistently, "where you belong."

"Father," the young god spoke with the voice of pure silver, but still gentle enough not to seem quarrelsome, not yet, "it is not just any kind of love. I love her. Only her."

"Nonsense!" he cut him off gruffly, "Nothing else. It is not fitting for a god to seek pleasure here! You have tasks to fulfill with your family and all this forest woman does is turn your head and lure you, so that you forget everything else, dream all day and come back here."

Storm clouds passed over the face of the clear summer day of the son of the gods.

"You're saying that gods have no business here and should not be here? But you come here often enough yourself. This is more of an open rumor than a secret. No wonder you are talking about "pleasures", because you know exactly about that despite mother, don't you?"

"Silence! Be quiet immediately!" he hissed at his son and the face of the great god got less a touch of anger than of a short fright. Fear of the all-seeing eyes and especially ears of the other gods. "We will return immediately and definitively; your mother is waiting for us."

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"But son, it is all for your own good. We only want the best for you,” his mother talked to the young son, back in the pantheon of the gods.

"Mother, I love her. You must not forbid me to see her again in the human realm," he desperately tried to make her understand. His mother gentler and less heroic than his father, but not a bit more insightful.

Was love so foreign to them?

If it was not love between gods, as they had previously besieged and blessed, was love worth nothing?

He almost felt stupid that he had thought he could make them understand it somehow.

But actually, he had known it. From the beginning. That's why he had kept it a secret.

That is why mortals held on to their unpayable treasure of happiness.

Because as soon as someone saw happiness, they wanted to steal it.

"Enough of it, once and for all!" ruled the father of the gods.

"Believe me, someday you will thank us, son. You will forget her and you will find a suitable goddess together with us, with whom you will rule justly and wisely over the ranks of the gods after us," his mother urged him and held his hand tightly. As if that would change anything. As if it would change something about the cruelty, they wanted to do to him, as if would make it any better.

"NO!"

The silver voice had become sharp, flashes of lightning that echoed through the realm of the gods, and the eyes had now become a dangerous glow from a sparkling brilliance.

"I will not let you tell me who I have to love and who I do not!" he clarified and the look of his eyes glazed at his parents not rebelliously, but seriously.

"You know I can solve this problem immediately, if you continue to resist," his father objected coldly.

Footsteps cut through the billowing tension and poisonous eyes stared into the eyes of the father of the gods.

"Don't you dare hurting her!"

Muscles tensed under the skin of perfect silk as he raised his finger threateningly against his own father.

All of a sudden, the young god seemed many years older and stronger.

"Good...", his father nodded suddenly and sounded unexpectedly calm and pulled his son aside, "... What do you have in mind then?"

"I am satisfied to do anything you say: I will take on any task and title you want. Conscientiously, I fulfill the orders you give me. But I want to be able to visit her freely and be with her. This or I turn my back on the realm of the gods and my kind. Forever. Abandon all that is divine and live among men as one of them."

Divine eyes, who had seen titans and other gods die – had seen worlds and stars creation - now looked at the young son in silence. Young, young – a blink of an eye in the years of the gods.

"Have you really thought it through? Would you even give up your divine powers and your immortal life if you had to in order to be with her? That is not something you can take back. This is final and not fleeting like impulsive love and feelings."

"I am sure," he nodded determinedly.

"Well, my son, you may be sure, but you seem to be too naïve about the laws of the world that you are so eager to break."

Eyebrows contracted in misunderstanding and the young god could not follow his father, which was to change after a show from his hand.

A movement with his hand and clouds swirled and formed a vortex, a vortex that finally began to show the son images:

"Even if we allow you to continue to see her while you learn to take on your duties as my successor here, it is doomed to failure. We gods have enemies. We try to save you from the worst things so far, but you also know history and how it is currently repeating itself. If the wrong person learns that she is your lover, someone may seek her life. And separated by the planes, you will nit be with her fast enough to protect her."

Gruesome images showed in the mirror that the clouds had formed and the sheer horror was reflected on the face of the young god. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

"The Dryad beings are not immortal. Her tree is damaged just as quickly as she is. If this passes, is her life forfeited and you spend your immortality in mourning? If you love her the way you say you would...", the father added quietly at the end. In his head the thought that if it were different, he would have quickly forgotten her as he had hoped, and someone else by his side. But if it was different, and that was possible, and the gods had the opportunity to see into hearts, then he had a grieving son as a successor to his throne.

"If you decide to turn your back on your family and live forever on the planes of Gaía, it will only be a matter of time before someone finds out who you really are. And then the hunt for you is on. A god alone is weaker, but still a god. But she is fair game to any enemy and attacker. She will always become a means of pressure and a target through you. You put her in danger and she will die. Just as a tool, as a pledge, as an apparat of wickedness."

Splattering blood in the swirling white clouds, splintering, bursting wood, burning leaves, shrill screams.

A snap of the fingers and the illusion dissolved before the shocked eyes of the son.

"As your mother said, we're only trying to protect you, because you won't be able to protect the two of you in the mortal world. There are too many enemies. Vile cousins who want to take our place. Beings who want to take our place. And the humans... they are the bearers of corruption and sin par excellence. You only bring death to her. And upon you great perdition and calamity."

Uncertainty now lay on the face of the young God. Sadness and this were the entrance to panic and much more:

Persuasion.

Strong arms of countless centuries wrapped around the shoulders of the son.

"You are doing yourself both a favor by staying among your own kind and leaving her hidden by her trees, where there is no danger to her."

Beaten nods from a bowed head. No more clouds in an endless sky. Rain clouds in an eternally weeping firmament.

"Our love is honest and eternal, we have said. But apparently there are rules that even we cannot avoid, no matter how much I believed it. Maybe I just wanted to believe it... and if it was only for a wonderful moment..."

The heavy sigh of the young god filled the kingdom of his ancestors. Swayed through the clouds, between the palaces of gold and let the other gods pause in their actions.

It surged down to the humans as a gust of wind that they would never forget. A gust of infinite sadness and a broken heart.

"But I would rather die a thousand deaths and live a thousand lives than ever not have loved her or harm her. So, I am going to do what you say, father. But I ask you for a favor: I don't want to break her heart. We would rather die without each other - we swore to each other under her tree. So that she can live without me, be happy as if I had never existed, there must be no me for her..."

Knowingly, the father of the gods began to nod slowly.

"So I ask you, father: Erase all memories of me and our love from her memoires. So she can live a dryad life as if all this had never happened..."

The voice broke and sad eyes stared into the distance, "...as if she would never have experienced true love..."

While the son's eyes simply did not grasp anything and went about their suffering for a moment, the father of the gods watched his offspring very attentively. His successor, who was not afraid to rebel against him. Who was not afraid to confess his feelings and did not hide his sadness. On his face, perfect like the statues themselves that the mortals made for them, a spectacle and yet always sublime and solid as marble. Stature and pride like a true god. A leader.

One who was not afraid to make the right decision. For the good of others. The common good and to completely disregard oneself.

"And you, son? Can you live with the pain?"

"Yes," he nodded resolutely and turned his eyes back to his father, "I even have to. I will remember it for both of us. Of a love that never was."

"Then it may be so. "

Lightning filled the realm of the gods.

No one could escape them and the jurisdiction and decision of the head of the gods was omnipresent, final.

With outstretched arms he took a step back and the lightning and the roaring thunder surrounded him, shooting out of his hands and eyes.

"For all eternity."

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Uneasiness blew through the sunlit plateau by the sea with the grain fields. The ears of corn bent under strong gusts and swayed like golden, flowing hair.

The strong, roaring wind glided between the vineyards, up to the heights of the forest and broke its way through the undergrowth like a groaning shock wave.

Every leaf got touched by the sigh of the wind, which carried the heartache of the young god of the Elysium. Dashed through the forest, tore leaves from the trees, that bent and sped past the dryad. Pulled her hair, howled in her ears and stabbed her heart.

The gust of wind filled her whole body.

It didn't blow around the dryad, no, it grabbed her as if the wind would hold her for a moment, eat her insides, stab her in the heart with a knife made of black ice and then run on.

Wide-open eyes of the tree creature literally looked after the wind as if it were a runner continuing his sprint.

Her belly left hollowed out. Empty. Black and full of fear.

Her heart piercing. Throbbing and stinging.

She had heard the voice of her lover.

Clear and unambiguous.

It was not imagination and not a small sign.

The Dryad also knew what this omen meant:

The gods had discovered their love and the father of the gods had spoken out against their union. She would never see her love again, he would never return, because that was the commandment of the gods. The wind had told her that in the voice of her beloved.

They were truly connected, that she had been able to feel his pain immediately. For their hearts that had become one, felt the suffering of the other and bled when the other did, and so the Dryad knew that his heart broke and with it her own.

Apparently, you couldn't deceive the rules, the time, or the gods.

But they seemed to be able to deceive love, the Dryad thought and closed her eyes with a tear. Knowing that her life was meaningless without him.

No rustling leaves. No pulsing life of tree roots. No voices of people in the distance.

She quickly opened her eyes, which at first could discern nothing but mysterious mist.

No forest, no grove.

Where was she?

The dryad wasn't even sure if she was still in her homeland.

After her ears and eyes, her skin began finally to tickle, and now she noticed the exquisite silver wrapping around her hips, arms, and breasts, along with the finest white fabric. Its fibre density so high, that it seemed as pure to her, as the clouds in the sky themselves.

Why were such garments suddenly on her body?

While she was still preoccupied with her own body, another emerged from the mist, and the outline of a divine figure unveiled from the haze.

"My Love," she hurried to the young god, who greeted her with a gentle smile on his lips, and fell into his arms.

Her cheek rested against his bare chest to feel his beating heart. As proof that it was still beating and still beating for her.

"But," she raised her head slightly with a questioning look, "but I thought your parents had discovered our secret and that we would never see each other again?"

"That was true, at first. But only because my parents do not allow a relationship with a dryad. They demand a partner with whom I can later succeed them."

"I don't quite understand."

His divine presence was as it had been on the first day she had seen him. Impressive as thousands of stars in the sky.

Like life before death and ice over the water that supports every step of yours.

A confident smile on his sleek face, yet still fine and full lines. Beautiful and dangerous at the same time. Truly a statue to be worshipped.

But to her, simply her love, with whom she lay naked in the sun, rolled over the green grass, and refreshed herself in the cool stream. That had been her life.

Until now.

Before the gods intervened and tried to take him away from her.

She had never thought she could feel this way about someone else.

She had often asked herself why it had to be one of them, why had she had to lose her heart to a god? Why, as a dryad, had she even had to fall in love?

But you didn't question love; you lived it, with all the joy and all the suffering that came with it.

But he stood before her, wrapped in his white robe with golden jewelry, his smile gold, and his hair one with the whispering mist that surrounded them.

"Then let me show you, and they shall explain it to you themselves."

His hand reached out to her and she grabbed it, hoping she would never have to let go.

Delicate fingers, loving and soft, held hers firmly. Defined arms, framed with armlets as if with endless divine golden spirals, led her to equally golden gates.

Her wide-open eyes could barely take in all the splendor of Elysium. She hardly dared to look at it, and her feet even less dared to take one step after the other and enter his world of the gods.

Before she knew it, she stood before them.

The impressive silver figures of his god parents.

They stopped a curtsy from her and a smile graced the face of the stern gods in the middle.

"You do not have to bow down to us, my child. Not now that you are one of us and belong among us."

"What? I..." Astonished, the dryad, or former dryad, staggered back and looked confusedly between the gods and her beloved. Slowly, a light dawned on her, which had exchanged her wreath of leaves for silver and silk clothing.

Now only one question remained.

Why?

"My son has proven himself a worthy successor in his decision. A stubborn, rebellious, and annoying successor, but someone who can make decisions for the greater good and that of others. He has a good and sincere heart. Perhaps a stronger one than some of us. I thought he was soft, young, and impulsive. A dreamer and lazy."

"And he is reluctant to admit a mistake," smiled the mother of the gods.

"He would have been willing to give up his love to protect you, but to take away all your pain and give you the gift of oblivion, and to live with the burden himself, knowing that you would be safe and would never waste a thought or a tear on him. Such a decision must be rewarded. So I granted my blessing, and in the name of all the gods, my son's true love became one of us, to live by his side in our midst. Their destiny shall not be separate, but together from now on. This is my will and my gift."

Thus, it came to pass that a dryad ascended to the gods. Not to rule as a queen in fear and power, but to be with her love.

From then on, united side by side in the golden cloud realm of the gods, the young god and the young goddess could find happiness and, to the delight of his parents, pursue his divine offspring's tasks.

Until one day, they even followed into his parents' footsteps.

After several generations in the mortal realm, the day of the twilight of the gods also claimed his line. A struggle for power. An extermination of their leadership of destinies and the elements.

Striking down their enemies in this fight, he proved himself a worthy successor to his father, who then decided to step down with his wife and hand over the leadership of the pantheon to his son, with his wife at his side.

(📷 by my beloved and super talented @aristenfromwarsaw)

The once green leaves that adorned her head had now turned to gold. But the love they had both found back then, among the trees in the grove at the foot of the fields and mountains, hadn't changed since that day.

It would probably take more than a twilight of the gods, and perhaps even the end of the entire world, to ever stop their hearts, beating identically and in the same rhythm.

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"Awww, that was so beautiful, soldier," Karlach raved after Saulus had finished reading and closed her bard book.

"Between action and battling axes, I love myself some true romance," the barbarian grinned, stretching contentedly, all the love scenes still in front of her eyes, she'd love to have for herself right now.

"Maybe a bit too romantic: Careful, Karlach, otherwise you'll burn too hot!" Astarion warned her with a snippy wave of his hand before turning to the Tiefling bard, shrugging his shoulders unimpressed.

"Honestly, I wonder how you always come up with such stuff."

"Oh..." Saulus' bright, flaming eyes regarded the vampire with a gentle gaze, and her lips adorned with a warm smile, which she looked at him with for a few seconds, "...I don't know, Astarion."

She didn't say anything else to him, but simply smiled at him softly.

"I must say, I thought it was quite nice too," Shadowheart admitted, swirling her wine goblet.

"Chk! I wouldn't have thought you were the romantic type, Shadowheart," the warrior of Kli'ir observed.

"A woman can have her secrets..." she said mysteriously, wrinkled her snub nose.

"No thanks, but you already have more than enough of those," Lae'zel hissed, her eyes sparkling and rolling them briefly.

"Aaah, a woman's secrets. Like a book whose secrets can't be deciphered even by a beautiful cover," Wyll nodded and smiled at Shadowheart, "there must always be time for a little written romance."

"It seems the libraries of our Blade and Shar Temple are way different than we thought, but," Gale raised his index finger, "a good library contains all topics, as we know."

"Is Gale seriously starting to talk about libraries now?!" Astarion sighed theatrically, his face twisting sourly as if he'd gotten lemon juice instead of blood just for Gale returning the exact same look to him.

"I definitely thought it was exactly what was needed," Karlach interrupted the two, getting back to the topic, "a little warmth and love before we set off for Moon Rise Towers through the Shadow-Cursed Lands tomorrow."

The warrior from Avernus rose as if she'd given herself a cue to finish packing her things for tomorrow's departure.

"A little hopeful fantasy doesn't hurt to keep us warm."

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Bonus Post-credit Scene:

"I think there could have been a few more explicit love scenes," Astarion whispered, his voice taking on that particular playful tone again. A tone that made you know this wasn't going to be a constructive discussion.

"Oh..." Saulus' further question and reaction while grabbing for her book got stuck in her throat as the vampire suddenly sat right next to her, grinning his way into her world. His red eyes glistened. They were two rubies that were as full of mischief and nonsense as they were of false promises, assurances, and danger. He was a dangerous ace when he glared at you like a cat and grinned like a shark.

"Do you think so?" she finally finished her question, not quite sure what the elf was up to.

"Yes, indeed," his hand was already moving to her shoulder, and his voice brushed her cheek with his breath, and it was only a matter of time before his lips touched her skin. It was difficult to keep quiet and even begin to take this as constructive criticism.

Which it wasn't.

Definitely not.

"But if you want, I can help you a little with the inspiration," his voice continued to entice, sweet as honey mead. His supple hand, sliding from her shoulder to her waist and pulling her toward him, was less sweet than relentless and determined.

However, if it was constructive criticism, Saulus wanted to receive only that from now on, and in abundance.

“I can think of a few things we could do together, that you could write down as a nice scene afterwards. And you will write them down in your little book, won't you?” whispered Astarion, ”Purely for bardic inspiration, I just want to be a support for you. Quite unselfishly. Completely selfless as I am.”

Saulus held her breath simultaneously, listening to his words and because she couldn't think of anything to say in response. Unfortunately, sometimes her head spit out nothing more than a giggle whenever Astarion started touching her somewhere and placing his hand on her hip. When he surprised her, he ruined her usually extreme quick-wittedness and turned her into a blushing, giggling pile. For whatever reason, she had really thought he'd wanted to give her serious criticism. Or complain, which was the same with Astarion.

"I think that will have to wait," Gale broke the tension, and with a loud, annoyed sigh, the white-haired elf leaned back from the Tiefling, "You should pack your equipment, Saulus."

"I already did tha—" the bard followed Gale's pointing finger and saw the owlbear cub pull her slightly tattered backpack out of the tent with its beak.

"Oh dear!" Saulus jumped to her feet, but the initially relaxed Gale followed her in a short moment as the owlbear cub quickly dropped its prey, but then ran toward his tent.

"Not my boots!" screamed the wizard, running after an owlbear cub - his boots in its beak and an adoptive Tiefling mother behind it, trying to get the boots back as well.

Sharp crimson eyes under white locks of Astarion looked around cautiously, squinting from one corner to the other while the companions gathered their belongings for tomorrow's departure. After assessing the situation as if his hands were about to break into the high-security vault, they instead reached for the bard's book that had been left lying on the ground. His body lowered in comfort on the pillows by his tent, he opened its pages once more and began to read the story about the young god and the dryad all over again in peace.

As his mind behind his head with the hair of silver – shining in the moonlight as well as in the sunlight – followed the story word by word, sentence by sentence, his red eyes suddenly grew wide.

Astarion began to read more slowly the moment he realized that Saulus had omitted the physical appearance of her characters when reading her romantic epic aloud.

The exactly description of the dryad and the young god as he could now read it on these pages. Detailed colors of their eyes, their hair spread before Astarion while reading the handwritten words, almost in wondrous disbelief.

Completely surprised, he let the book sink for a moment, and the glittering vampire eyes blinked in astonishment through the sheer infinity of the moment.

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