#kharion

Title: Unmoored Author: Aurum Artists: @leonineheroes Pairing: Shiro/Kharion (original Galra) Rating: Mature Tags: Depictions of violence, emotional hurt/comfort, AU canon divergent, Original Character

Start at the Beginning | Ch 2

Link to the Art (coming soon!)

Summary:  

After escaping the Empire a second time, Shiro finds himself stranded in a stolen fighter with no way to survive. But Shiro's good at everything but dying. When he finds himself on the trade ship Stymphalion, its captain, a half-Galra by the name of Kharion, grudgingly agrees to provide him safe passage. For the first time since he left Earth he's not Champion or Black Paladin or even ace pilot Takashi Shirogane; he's just another crew member. In anonymity, he’ll discover who he is when all of his titles are stripped away. On the journey, he'll find his hardest taskmaster yet. And in Kharion, he'll find a kindred spirit.

Shiro may be drifting, but one way or another, he'll find his way home.

Now that he isn’t surrounded by chaos and voices, he really takes a look. The purple hues of his visible skin and fur immediately scream Galra to him, and Shiro’s nails dig into his left palm. His right hand starts to make the space underneath the blanket so much warmer.

The alien raises a brow. “You’d fight me?” he asks, tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “I have saved your skin twice now, little shipwreck, and yet you would consider raising a hand to me.”

“Saving me from something terrible doesn’t mean you’re an ally,” Shiro replies.

“Point taken. But striking first and asking questions after will not earn you any favors either.”

“What do I have to gain by earning your favor? And after the last guy, how do I know it’s a bargain I’d even want to make?”

I love Gale to pieces but yikes, that line! Kharion is smitten enough for a little white lie though

FUCK, I DIDN'T MAKE IT ON TIME, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Let's start 2024 with some Baldur's Gate fanart!!

Here's Gale, my half-orc wizard Tav Kharion and Wyll <3

Wish You’d Write a Fic… | still accepting

[I honestly need to finish writing Unmoored before I really start to bring in all the headcanons we have about Rahjim and Kharion. Buuuuut, if I did happen to write this, it might go something like…]

“I don’t think this was coincidence,” Kharion mutters, crossing his arms.

Rahjim chuckles. “Does it really matter? It has been far too long. You look well.”

“You also. This is not the type of place you typically frequent.”

“Not lately, no. But I have it on good authority that this was a wonderful trade moon to visit. A surprising amount of treasure, if you only care to look for it.” Rahjim’s grin up at Kharion is sly. He has no shame about closing the distance between them, stubbornly sliding one arm into Kharion’s while the the lower arm on that side rests all too comfortably around Kharion’s hips. 

Kharion doesn’t even bother to shrug him off and shifts so that he’s holding Rahjim’s arm like a proper escort. Old habits die hard, after all. “Was your good authority a troublesome young paladin, backwater prince?”

“I’ll thank you not to slander my title in public, knave, but perhaps it was. I speak to so many people, you know. It could have been anyone.”

“You speak to many, but listen to few. I know this from experience.” 

“Ahhh, you have been missed. What a glorious chance meeting, don’t you think?”

Kharion snorts. “Chance, of course, my prince.”

[I saw a post somewhere that this was OC Kiss Week, so I owe this little snippet of love to @demenior, who has been letting me play in her beloved sandbox. Also a gift to @gitwrecked, who is a terrible enabler to us both.

P.S. If you haven’t read this, then you’re missing out on the beauty that is Prince Rahjim. Pls go remedy that. <3]

not much time (there’s always time for a kiss, darling)

“You are always in such a hurry,” Rahjim says, a pout conveying his exact thoughts on the matter, his chin in the palm of his top left hand.

Kharion snorts, hand paused in reaching for his coat. “There’s work to be done. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course I do, but I am at liberty to protest it as much as I like. At the moment, I am protesting your intent to leave me for another few months, never knowing when you might land upon my doorstep to demand my attention.”

“As if anyone demanding your attention is an inconvenience to you.” 

Kharion leaves his coat and moves to the chair Rahjim lounges in, expectant. He’s such a brat, this powerful prince, and despite knowing that, he’s sometimes drawn to bend to his will. It’s not as if Rahjim doesn’t make his efforts worth it, but Kharion finds it even more worth it when he gives Rahjim shit for it first. Can’t make it too easy after all. He sinks down to one knee, graceful for all his mass, wings shifting to adjust so that they don’t scrape the floor. His head bows, but Rahjim can feel Kharion’s eyes never leave him. He grins, showing off his teeth, unable to help being a right bastard along with his clear acquiescence.

“Yes, this. I like this,” Rahjim tells him with a laugh, shifting so that he is leaning forward, as if he is about to knight this fiend for his attitude. 

“Would you have something of me, backwater prince,” Kharion asks, using his native tongue for the insult. They both know it’s anything but. 

“A kiss,” Rahjim states plainly, as if it’s his right. “You will allow me time for that.”

His fingers brush underneath Kharion’s chin, and he raises his head, the grin widening. The captain rises up to his full height over Rahjim and bends at the waist. Before their mouths even touch, two of Rahjim’s hands fall reflexively to Kharion’s hips, one moving to his chest and the last cupping his jaw. Kharion braces for impact, knowing that within moments of contact, his knees will be weak. As he leans on the arm of the chair, he welcomes the feel of Rahjim’s kiss, his own hand sliding into thick, dark hair.