Astarion: *angrily, Turning Away From You With A Huff* "Why Do You Insist On Exhuming The Past?!" *pulls

Astarion: *angrily, turning away from you with a huff* "Why do you insist on exhuming the past?!" *pulls up a chair and forces you down as he sits in your lap and holds his hand to his forehead dramatically* "I was a slave, a vampire spawn, kept by the Szarr family..."

"And longer if I can"

The anon button is not for hate. The anon button is for horny and embarrassed about it.

Gale's folly

So called NightSong

had to do a Aylin since I did Isobel! she is my beloved.

photo reference: "Flora" by Max Nonnenbruch. Inspired by muffinpoop1's work

Like Real People Do, Chapter Eight

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav x Astarion Ancunín

Chapter Synopsis: Danger forces Seraphina to have a difficult discussion about her faith with Gale.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Four and a Half. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven.

Read on ao3.

Word Count: 3.4k

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Chapter Eight: Faith

After speaking with Halsin about their options for getting to Moonrise Towers, the party began making its way to the mountain pass. Much to the chagrin of Shadowheart and Astarion, Seraphina intended to stick by her promise to Lae’zel to seek the other githyanki in the area to locate the crèche and, if the cure for their tadpoles couldn’t be found there, at least they would already be en route to Moonrise. 

“So, Wyll, you truly can’t think of any nobility in Baldur’s Gate who may know of a way to remove mind flayer tadpoles?” Astarion asked. 

He was baiting Wyll and Seraphina hoped that the warlock would realize this and ignore the question, but that would be far too much to ask for.

“No, Astarion. I haven’t even stepped foot inside of the city I call home in seven years,” Wyll said. 

“What a shame. I’d hoped a high birth would bring some kind of useful, powerful connections,” Astarion pouted. “Perhaps your father knows someone.”

“Astarion,” Gale said pointedly. “Wyll just found out a mere sunrise ago that his father is in extreme danger. Is sensitivity during this time too difficult of an ask?” 

“I’m simply asking the questions we should all be curious about!” Astarion pleaded, his voice pitched higher.

Seraphina groaned. She stared at the ground as she walked at the back of the group. Yesterday had been tiring attempting to cross the Risen Road. After fighting an overwhelming number of gnolls and saving people from burning buildings, Wyll was unable to keep traveling after learning that his father had been kidnapped. 

Putting on his bravest face, Wyll said that morning that they could waste no more time and had to keep traveling, no matter how he was feeling. The typical bickering, combined with the pure exhaustion from combat yesterday, was making Seraphina’s patience run thin. 

“Do you know of any powerful vampire lords who could remove an illithid tadpole, Astarion?” Shadowheart chimed in. Seraphina chose to ignore the rest of the conversation.

“I am beginning to appreciate the remarkable patience that you possess,” Halsin said, slowing his pace to walk next to her.

“I grew up with an overflowing home, so I’m used to it,” she shrugged.

Seraphina halted in her tracks as a gigantic shadow entered her peripheral vision. The huge shape soon covered her entirely. Halsin followed her gaze, and he looked up.

“Oak Father preserve us,” he gasped.

“Tas’ki. This petty arguing is a wasteful use of breath. Astarion, you could make yourself useful and scout –” Lae’zel suddenly stopped speaking.

The shadow and the loud blasts of wind from flapping wings made Seraphina’s blood run cold as she looked up to see the underbelly of a red dragon.

“That thing is huge. We better try to stay out of its way,” Karlach said.

“We cannot! That’s a kith’rak. My people are near!” Lae’zel exclaimed. She turned and looked at Seraphina, her eyes blazing.

“Will the dragon be…friendly?” Seraphina asked.

“Red dragons follow the will of the githyanki. No harm will come to any of you,” Lae’zel said firmly.

Seraphina looked up at the dragon and watched as it slowed, landing somewhere beyond the curve in the road. 

“Lead on, Lae’zel,” Seraphina nodded. The warrior quickly ran up the road, leaving the rest of the group behind.

“Seraphina, this is absurd. The gith will slaughter us,” Shadowheart hissed.

“Or we could kill them first,” Astarion commented.

“Only if that’s necessary,” Seraphina glared at Astarion. “The githyanki could be our only hope of removing these tadpoles. Let’s at least try and see if they can be helpful. No aggression.” 

Astarion groaned.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Seraphina said with a smile. 

The worst that could happen quickly unfolded. Kith’rak Voss condemned Lae’zel to death before flying off on his red dragon. The githyanki patrol had the party at the end of its rope.

Gale was downed almost immediately, dragged behind a rock by Karlach to control his bleeding alone.

Wyll had been disarmed and quickly scrambled to higher ground, relying solely on eldritch blasts while back-to-back with Astarion as the vampire attempted to pick off a few of the githyanki warriors with his bow. The pale elf had been hit with an arrow that prevented him from healing and he was going to collapse soon. 

Lae’zel was holding out well enough, but she was taking serious injuries as Halsin, as a bear, tried to support her. Shadowheart and Karlach had been pinned against a wall.

Seraphina fell to the ground as another githyanki struck her in the head with the pommel of his sword. Her head swam as she quickly scrambled back on her elbows while the gith sneered at her, raising his sword high above his head. 

“Fulgor!” Seraphina chanted desperately, reaching out and grabbing the gith’s leg. The shocking grasp electrocuted the warrior, and he yelped in shock. While the lightning coursed through him, she swung her quarterstaff at his head, a resounding crack signaling his death.

Seraphina whimpered in pain as she clutched at the gash across her chest. She looked across the scene and her mind churned, trying to find the best way to get her people out of this. All the githyanki were relatively close to each other. The party was in a semi-circle as the gith patrol pushed out towards them…

She could do this.

“Lae’zel, Halsin, get back!” Seraphina screamed. Lae’zel took another swing at one of her kin before jumping backwards. Halsin roared as he ran away from the gith. The sorcerer quickly scanned the field again. 

The spacing was right. Karlach and Shadowheart would survive some mild singeing. This was the best option.

“Ardē!” Seraphina shouted. 

Too many things happened at once. The fireball rained down on the githyanki, the heat from the inferno nearly overwhelming. Seraphina felt the familiar hum of a wild magic surge. She could hear the agonizing screams of the githyanki being burnt alive. 

And then she felt the flames. The fire danced across her body, and she could feel it melting her skin. Her vision became consumed by the golden and orange light of blazing fire. Her ears filled with the sounds of her own screams.

Then…nothing.

x x x

For a few moments, that’s all there was – nothing. No flames. No screams. No unlikely friends. No tadpoles.

She had encountered this darkness once before.

To describe it as the most intense darkness and the quietest silence she’d ever experienced felt like an understatement. She didn’t feel anything. She could not feel her fingers or toes or even her magic. She did not feel confusion, happiness, or sadness. She simply was.

And then came a voice, gentle and melodic. 

It is not your time. 

My lady?

Rise, my child.

Tymora, I’m ready to join you.

Not yet, my child. Go forth and become my Chosen.

Seraphina suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of peace and the familiar divine radiance of her goddess. Then, a pulling sensation, as if a rope was tied around her middle and her essence was being tugged somewhere.

“I strike thy name from the archives.”

The pulling turned into a sharp yank and the nothingness became everything again.

Seraphina gasped and she was back in her body. Her senses became overwhelmed – the scent of the campfire, the feeling of the dirt beneath her, the sounds of Scratch barking and the hooting of the owlbear cub, the earthy taste of a healing potion on her tongue. 

Her eyes opened and she winced at the blinding sunlight. She rapidly blinked and the worried faces of her companions swam into focus. 

“Withers, you talented bag of bones! You’re incredible!” Karlach.

“The Oak Father preserves her spirit today.” Halsin.

“Oh, thank the gods.” Wyll.

“Get her out of the dirt! Let’s get her onto a bedroll.” Gale.

“She’s still hurt. I’ll get a few more potions.” Shadowheart.

“Grab her legs, Astarion.” Lae’zel. 

“I don’t need assistance carrying her.” Astarion. 

Seraphina experimentally wiggled her fingers. She felt like she was floating, as if her spirit was still returning to her body, altogether separate from the feeling of being tucked into Astarion’s chest, his arms encasing her and carrying her across camp. Astarion shuffled into her tent, setting her down on her bedroll.

“What happened?” she asked hoarsely.

Astarion kneeled over her. He smirked, but his eyes were wide and round in concern. He reached down, his cold fingertips gently pushing strands of hair out of her face. He sighed and she saw his shoulders relax.

“You did another one of your typical hero acts. You killed those barbaric gith with that fireball of yours, but you also cast it on yourself,” Astarion replied slowly, his typical confidence and swagger fading as he spoke. “It was…quite a sight.” He frowned, as if he could no longer continue to hide behind his faux nonchalance.

The tent flaps opened and Shadowheart and Gale entered, the wizard holding various scrolls, potions, and ingredients. Gale’s concerned face softened as soon as he looked at the sorcerer.

“Seraphina. Gods, it’s good to see your eyes again,” he breathed.

“Set those down and get out. Both of you,” Shadowheart commanded. Gale glared at Shadowheart as he put down everything that he was carrying. One of his hands cupped Seraphina’s face, gently stroking her cheekbone. 

“I’ll be back. I promise,” Gale whispered. Astarion rolled his eyes and, after more shooing from Shadowheart, both men left.

Shadowheart immediately went to work, casting lesser restoration.

“Is everyone okay?” Seraphina asked weakly. 

“Yes. Physically at least.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I think we all thought Gale and Astarion were going to go mad,” Shadowheart huffed, shaking her head. “We’ve never seen them like that.”

Seraphina froze. 

“They actually didn’t bicker for once because they were so focused on getting you to Withers as soon as possible,” Shadowheart continued. 

“Maybe I should die more often if it gets them to work together peacefully,” Seraphina laughed weakly. The half-elf chuckled in response.

“Please don’t. I don’t think those two would survive another incident like this,” Shadowheart placed a waterskin to the tiefling’s lips and urged her to drink. “I’m not sure what spell you’ve cast on them, but they seem properly enthralled.”

Seraphina shook her head. She let Shadowheart continue working in silence.

“You saved us out there,” the half-elf murmured. 

“I did what I had to,” Seraphina responded.

Shadowheart nodded, lifting her hands away. 

“Please let me know if you need anything. We…we can’t afford to lose you,” Shadowheart said, her voice soft. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say more, but then she quickly closed it, gave Seraphina a thin smile, and left the tent. 

Rest called to her. At some point, she lazily blinked awake for a few moments. In her half-awake state, she heard someone hiss.

“Let her rest! The last thing she needs is fangs at her neck.”

“Do you really think me that monstrous, Shadowheart? Really – wait, you’re not stopping him!”

“He’s taking her food, not using her as food.”

A tanned hand parted the flaps of the tent, followed by Gale’s upper half.

“Seraphina?” he whispered.

She smiled as her eyes struggled to focus on him. She surely looked drunk.

“Hi,” Seraphina said. Gale finally smiled and fully entered the tent, a lightly steaming bowl in hand.

“Hi,” Gale replied, sitting next to her bedroll. “Shadowheart was gracious enough to allow me to personally bring you dinner.”

“I will have to think of a way to thank her,” Seraphina said as she attempted to sit up. Gale quickly assembled her pillows into a small pile behind her and she propped herself up against it. He handed her the bowl and she nearly moaned at the satisfying scent of beef, potatoes, and carrots in the stew.

“You two seem to be on much better terms,” Gale commented.

Seraphina thought back to yesterday. As they settled in for the night, Shadowheart had called Seraphina over to her tent. The half-elf awkwardly said that she needed to share something with her. She wanted to explain why she was afraid of wolves. Shadowheart had shared a childhood memory, one of the few memories she had, of being alone in the woods and saved from a wolf by Sharrans who took her in.  

Despite their profound differences in morals and faith, the moment of vulnerability had brought the two clerics closer.

“Yes. I think we are.”

She quickly ate several bites of the food.

“You gave us all quite a fright,” Gale said.

“I haven’t had a surge like that in quite a while. I’m sorry for setting us back on our travel progress.”

Gale huffed an empty laugh.

“That is what you choose to focus on?” he asked incredulously. “You died. I don’t know what progress would even look like for this group without you.”

Gale shook his head.

“I…should’ve been there to support you. I forgot to cast my armor this morning and – ”  

“Gale, you can’t blame yourself,”

“Then who should bear the blame? Tymora?”

Seraphina dropped her spoon and set down her bowl immediately. 

“In my presence, to my face, you will do no such thing,” she said, her jaw tight.

“Are you not afraid of death?”

“Every spell I cast could be my last. I no longer fear death, Gale,” 

“And whose fault is that?” Gale asked. “Why do you persist in your trial, Seraphina?”

“Gale, you know how important this is to me,”

“To what end will you pursue this? You would die in service of a goddess who has tainted the magic that you hold dear and determines your fate as if it’s a simple as the flip of a coin?”

“It is because of Tymora that we’ve survived this long. It is nothing but luck, good fortune, my lady’s grace that all of us don’t have tentacles sprouting from our face,” Seraphina spat. “It was her will that we didn’t all perish in that first battle against the cult that means to enthrall us.”

“It is unfair to you to claim that,” Gale said quickly. “We are all here because of you –your dedication to doing the right thing, your strategic mind, your strong will, your power. We are surviving because of you – you and this…strange artefact.”

“I don’t want to listen to this anymore.”

“You have a choice in this. You could always say no to this test.”

Seraphina’s head snapped up. 

“What do you mean?”

“You chose to do this trial, yes?”

Seraphina shifted uncomfortably.

“I was selected by the Smiling Lady for this trial.”

“But you had to accept this trial, yes?”

She nodded slowly. “And what would happen if you told Tymora that you no longer wish to continue this test?”

Seraphina balked.

“I…”

Gale’s intense gaze searched her face as she hesitated.

“My lady would turn me away. I would never be accepted in a Tymoran place of worship again,” she answered.

“What would happen to your magic?”

It was as if her mouth and throat was filled with sand.

“I would be connected with the power of the storm again.”

“You would no longer be at the mercy of wild magic,” Gale said.

Seraphina’s vision clouded as tears welled up in her eyes.

“I can’t believe you would suggest this! I am a Hellwhisper, Gale. I have walked in my lady’s light for my entire life. If I stop this trial, I could never return to my family. My soul will wander the Fugue Plane when I die,” her voice cracked.

“Seraphina, you are a remarkable and powerful individual. Any god should be honored if you choose to serve them and act in their name.”

“You talk as if switching faiths is as easy as changing clothes,” Seraphina scoffed. The tears finally came, and her first sob wracked her entire body. She felt Gale’s hand on her shoulder, and she snatched it away from him.

“Gale, completing this trial could redeem my family’s name. This isn’t just about me,” she cried.

“Seraphina, I apologize. I…I’m simply scared for you,” he whispered. “My heart was quite ripped apart today. I know that we have only shared each other’s company for a short time, but…I don’t want to fathom what this journey looks like without you in it.”

“You defied your goddess and look at what happened. I’m horrified that you would suggest I do the same.”

He didn’t respond. She knew that was a low blow and she wanted to stuff the words back into her mouth, but all she saw was red and it was too late to take any of it back.

“Please go,” Seraphina murmured, her hoarse whisper barely audible.

Gale paused, his face crumpling. 

“If that is what you wish,” he choked. He stood and left without a word.

Seraphina forced herself to finish eating the stew, all the while bile kept trying to crawl its way up her throat. As she set down the empty bowl, the tent suddenly felt too small. Tiny. Cramped.

Suffocating.

With several winces and groans, Seraphina crawled out of her tent, gasping and gulping for air as the cool night blanketed her. The campfire had dulled to embers. Scratch and the owlbear cub were curled up nearly on top of each other next to the to the dying fire. She looked over at Gale’s tent. There wasn’t any light peeking out from the flaps, as there usually was when he stayed up reading. 

Camp was quiet. 

She looked up at the stars and fell to her knees, slowly breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

“Does Shadowheart know you’ve left your tent?”

Astarion now stood over her.

“I forgot to ask for permission,” Seraphina shrugged.

“How rebellious of you,” Astarion replied as he sat down next to her.

“I can’t feed you tonight,” she said sharply. She lifted her eyes to look at him and his eyes were narrowed.

“Everyone seems to think that I’m only interested in you for your blood, including you,” he said lowly.

“Astarion –” 

“No, you’re absolutely right. You can’t expect anything else from a monster, can you?”

“I’m sorry. I…I have a lot on my mind, but that was rude. I’m sorry.”

Astarion looked at her for a moment, opened his mouth, and shut it again.

“Thank you,” he replied.

She shifted from her knees to her bottom and scooted closer to him.

“Why aren’t you resting?” Seraphina asked.

Astarion averted his gaze to Scratch and the cub. He looked back at her.

“I was waiting for your company to leave so that I could see you,” Astarion finally responded.

Seraphina nodded.

“Well…you can see me,” Seraphina awkwardly looked away from him.

“Yes. I can.”

The silence hung in the air for a moment. She gasped as she felt the chill of Astarion’s touch on her chin. He slowly moved her face to look at him. His gaze had softened, but it was still so intense that it made her shiver. She could feel the heat of his eyes as he stared at her eyes, her scars, her nose, and her lips.

Astarion’s eyes returned to hers and he leaned in. Seraphina sighed as he kissed her. It was soft, unhurried. He didn’t deepen the kiss or push her onto her back or pull her onto his lap. He pulled away and, for once, she didn’t chase after him. 

His fingers caressed her cheek before he suddenly pulled away as if he’d been burned.

“I would tell you to try and stay alive, but you don’t have much control over what happens when you cast your magic,” he smirked.

“Please, I can’t discuss this again,” Seraphina groaned. 

“Did Gale upset you?” he spat out the wizard’s name as if it pained him to even say it.

“He insulted my goddess. He told me that I should abandon my Trial and ask Tymora to return my storm sorcery,” she replied.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

Seraphina paused and bit her lip. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t like putting her life and the lives of the people around her at risk with her wild magic. 

“It would be an honor to become Tymora’s Chosen. It would restore my family’s legacy in the Tymoran church,” she breathed.

“Yes, that’s all well and good. But is this, this risk, is that what you want?”

She hesitated again. 

“I’ve never felt more powerful in my life than these last two years,” she started. She looked at the stars again as she felt Astarion’s eyes on her. 

“Yes. That’s what I want.”

“So go after it, darling.”