Like Real People Do, Chapter 9.5

Like Real People Do, Chapter 9.5

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav x Astarion Ancunín

Chapter Synopsis: Astarion has a nice, simple plan and Seraphina's kindness is introducing an unexpected complication.

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

Read on ao3.

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: We're so back. Took a little break and I'm back to yapping about these 3 idiots. Here's a chapter from Astarion's POV.

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Chapter Nine and a Half: Carry Me Slowly, My Sunlight

Astarion’s chest ached.

But he hadn’t been injured. 

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Even though he had no need to breathe anymore.

He laid on his side staring at the source of his pain. She was asleep next to him. He watched as her chest, covered in devilish ridges and his own bite marks, gently rose and fell. His eyes followed up to her slender neck, the left side covered in a deep red tattoo of a rose with a new scar from the assassination attempt stretching over the art. He felt a surge of anger and pride as he remembered ending the life of two of the assassins sent to kill her.

Her sharp jawline, her plump and thick lips that were always painted a deep crimson, her wide nose, her sharp cheekbones, the freckles that scattered across her red skin like stars, the scar that stretched from under her right eye to the bridge of her nose and the other barely visible scar on her lower lip, and the jewelry that carefully decorated her eyebrow, nose, and pointed ears. 

Astarion’s eyes followed the curve of her horns, ending in points that he dodged easily when he bent down to bite or kiss her neck because, at this point, he knew her body and could navigate it with his eyes closed. The silky-smooth texture of her thick black and red hair was familiar to Astarion. He loved tangling his fingers in it, whether it was while pressing her lips against his in a bloody kiss after feeding from her, while Seraphina took his hard length into her mouth, or as he was thrusting into her. As he took in her form, Astarion felt the sharp pang of that ache in his chest again. Looking at her felt like looking into the sun – bright, gorgeous, overwhelming, and yet he still wanted to bask in her glow.

Seraphina was a beautiful, painful, all-too-kind problem.

When he saw her the first time, he was trapped in a pod on the nautiloid ship and had only seen the back of her head. When he saw her for the second time, walking through the ship wreckage with a half-elf and a human in tow, he faked being in danger and she actually fell for it. When he drew a dagger on her to try and get answers out of her about what she and the mind flayers had done to him, she didn’t turn to anger.

“Whoa! No need to pull out any knives!” The tiefling said with a laugh, as if having a dagger pressed to her throat was a regular occurrence for her.

“If you use that dagger, I will have to incinerate you,” said the human she had walked over with.

“And risk burning your friend? I doubt it,” Astarion hissed. In that moment as he turned to speak to the man, the tiefling rolled away from him. 

“Put the knife away and maybe we can help each other,” the tiefling said, holding up her hands as if she was trying to calm a wild animal.

She was surprisingly patient and forgiving. She even asked him to join the ragtag group of survivors that she was collecting like coins. Astarion wasn’t special on that front – moments later Seraphina accepted a hostile gith into their ranks. Seraphina had a naïve optimism to her that made her all too trusting which Astarion considered could be quite useful aspects of her personality.

It was only days later that Astarion realized he needed to be special to Seraphina for the sake of his survival. When hunger came to him, along with the desire to see if he could disobey Cazador’s rules, Astarion crept over to Seraphina’s tent to feed. When she woke up, she wasn’t mad or fearful. A bit annoyed on account of him attempting to bite without her permission, but surprisingly understanding.

“I’ve kept much more dangerous company,” she said with a shrug.

Astarion chose not to question her on that. How was it possible for him to care about that when Seraphina was now lying back down and presenting her beautiful neck to him? When he bit her, his senses were flooded. Her saccharine scent of vanilla and an undercurrent of citrus. The taste of her blood was intoxicating. Cazador kept him from this? Seraphina’s blood tasted sweeter than any wine, filled with the sharp, fiery tang of her magic. Astarion let her blood coat his tongue like honey, and he would’ve gulped until she was drained dry until she stopped him.

All it took was one drop of Seraphina’s lifeblood to make Astarion nearly feral for her. He had to force himself to focus on the words she said when she stood next to him, her scent drawing him closer. He knew right away when she had been injured in battle and, in a flash, he was by her side. There was the instance when, while wandering near an abandoned crypt, raiders attacked their party. They were swiftly dealt with, mostly because Astarion could smell Seraphina’s delicious blood from across the courtyard. His eyes focused in on the slash that ran across her forearm as he walked over to her.

“Nice work,” Seraphina panted to him as she dug through the pockets of one of the bodies.

“I’d say the same to you, but you’ve had a bit of a spill, darling,” Astarion helped her to her feet and grabbed her arm. “I hope you won’t mind my distaste for waste.”

Seraphina opened her mouth to reply and quickly shut it as Astarion lifted her arm to his lips and licked the wound, groaning in satisfaction at the incredibly tantalizing taste of her. He watched her eyes widen and, in her blood, he could taste it – Seraphina’s arousal. And that was when the idea came to him. There were a few things that were quite certain. She was the leader of their group, chose who joined or stayed, and spoke for them as they navigated this disgusting wilderness. She was foolish and went out of her way to help others, including willingly offering her blood to him. And she was attracted to him, or at least the idea of him as a vampire. 

Seducing Seraphina would be easy. As Astarion mulled over his plan, a memory of a specific night, buried within his memories of thousands of other nights, came to the front of his mind. This little adventure wasn’t his first time seeing Seraphina. He had seen her before – dozens of times possibly – in the bars and taverns of Baldur’s Gate. He had nearly approached her quite a few times, but she was never alone. She was always in a huge group, someone handsome or beautiful with an arm around her shoulders or a hand attached to her hip. 

“Have you always kept your hair short, Seraphina?” Astarion asked.

“No. I actually used to let it grow pretty long. Ugh, a few years ago I had these horrible bangs for a while. I can’t believe anyone let me walk around like that,” Seraphina laughed. He remembered those bangs.

It had to have been nearly three years ago. There was the one time when she had separated from the rest of her group, no one hanging off her, in the Blushing Mermaid. She sauntered over to the bar, her raven black hair bouncing against the middle of her back, the sway of her hips drawing the stare of several others. He wasn’t going to let a pretty thing like her be taken home by anyone else in here, especially not Petras. Astarion cleared his throat and approached the bar. She was trying to catch the attention of the bartender, but she was short and couldn’t be seen behind the crowd.

“I hope you aren’t paying for your own drinks tonight,” he said, sliding in next to her. The tiefling turned and looked up at him. She looked open and curious at first, but with an eyebrow raise and a smirk, she immediately became flirtatious.

“I have been so far unless someone plans on changing that,” she replied. 

“How does a bottle of Fire Wine sound?”

“Hmm…I’d prefer a Suzailian Sweet,” she noted. Astarion hummed in agreement.

“Exquisite taste, my dear,” Astarion smiled as he pushed his way towards the bar. He reached his hand out for her and, as she took it, he pulled her through the crowd and close to him. He placed his gold on the counter and waited.

“Is this home for you or are you just passing through and enjoying the city’s bustling nightlife?”

“You have to ask if Baldur’s Gate is my home? Gods, my accent really must be changing,” she laughed.

Astarion pushed the coin over to the bartender and requested the Suzailian.

“What is your name, dear?” he asked, turning back to her with his well-rehearsed seductive expression.

“Maybe I’ll tell you after we finish this bottle,” she said.

“That bottle better get here quickly then,” Astarion took her hand again and he kept her gaze as he kissed the back of her hand, the contact lasting just a second too long. “Well met, stranger.”

The bottle arrived and Astarion picked it up along with two goblets.

“Grab my arm, darling. Don’t want you getting lost in this crowd,” Astarion whispered. The tiefling bit her lip and gently grabbed the crook of Astarion’s arm. He led them away from the main rooms and over to one of the smaller, less crowded rooms of the tavern. The less witnesses, the better. 

Astarion didn’t expect to spend longer than an hour seducing the tiefling. He would do the basic pleasantries, eventually pivoting to overt flirtation as he and his target drank a bottle of wine, before following through on getting them to follow him to their death in Szarr Palace. However, this woman wasn’t following the script.

The bottle was now empty, and the woman took the last sip of her goblet. Astarion’s eyes fell to the drops of wine that lingered on her plush red lips. He stood and walked over to her chair, slotting himself between her legs. 

“May I have a taste?” he murmured. She nodded. 

Astarion lifted her chin, and he gingerly licked her bottom lip before kissing her. She sighed and his tongue entered, licking and stroking, tasting all the wine they had shared. Her hands gripped his shoulders as Astarion’s hands fell to her hips, squeezing the thick flesh. He pulled her closer, making her release an adorable squeak into his mouth as their hips met. 

She pulled away with a gasp.

“Surely you don’t want to just stay here all night. I’m going to a party later and I can’t think of better company,” he purred, one of his hands moving to stroke her thigh.

“Mhmm. And what about after the party?”

“We can indulge in each other ‘til the sun rises,” Astarion smirked. He heard her heart skip a beat and she gasped as he dipped his head to her neck, his lips gliding up her neck. She smelled delicious, this beautiful forbidden fruit.

A halfling turned the corner and marched into the room.

“Seraphina! You have got to stop running off like that. We’re heading out,” she said. The woman, Seraphina, nodded at the halfling, who gave Astarion a quick, analytical look before walking away.

Seraphina turned to Astarion and shrugged. 

“I wish I could, but duty calls,” she smiled. “Sorry she spoiled the fun of my name reveal.” She stood from her chair, slipping away from him. 

Astarion quickly grabbed her hand. 

“Come on now. What could be more exciting than drinking and dancing the night away at a castle?”

Astarion could see it in her bright amber eyes. He saw that glimmer in the eyes of everyone he brought back – the allure of partying with high society, free flowing food and wine. It was usually when that glint appeared that he knew he had been successful for the night. And then it was gone.

“You could always join me. I think my night may be a bit more interesting,” she replied.

“And what will your night include?”

She gave him a dazzling grin and he could hear her heart begin to beat faster as she replied.

“Adventure.”

Astarion couldn’t hide the sneer that crossed his face and the tiefling frowned.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime,” she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Have a fun night, stranger.”

Then she was gone. Astarion cursed under his breath. He took a shy half-elven boy back to Cazador’s palace instead. If Seraphina had any memory of that night, she didn’t mention it. If anything, she seemed to not remember him at all. But he had nearly seduced her once and he was determined to do it again. This time, it wasn’t for Cazador. It was for him and his safety.

Astarion decided to start planting the seeds when he could get Seraphina alone. The night that Astarion was determined to approach her, the wizard took up most of her time. He watched from the shadows as they sparred, patiently waiting for their awkward flirtation to end for the night. Gale was obviously taken with the tiefling, though he didn’t have the guts to follow through on bedding her, but Seraphina also seemed interested, which was a minor complication, but Astarion could work with it. The wizard made himself absent and Astarion pounced.

As expected, it took little work on his part. Seraphina melted under his flirtation and attention. He followed his usual scripts and waded through his revulsion when he led her into that clearing to sleep with her. All Astarion needed to do now was ensure he remained a priority over the rest of their party members – something that was easier said than done. Seraphina searched for infernal iron for Karlach, comforted Wyll as he adjusted to his new devilish appearance, tried to decipher and make peace with Shadowheart, learned as much as she could about githyanki culture to better connect with Lae’zel, and, most annoyingly, desperately scouted for magical items for Gale.

Seraphina’s growing bond with Gale was becoming bothersome. Today, Astarion struggled to hide his irritation as, while they infiltrated the goblin camp, the wizard and the sorcerer couldn’t seem to shut up.

Astarion stuck his tools into the lock of the metal door, and he groaned as he heard Seraphina giggle at something Gale shouted up to her from the floor below. 

“Sera, darling,” Astarion said over his shoulder. “A bit of guidance from Lady Luck, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh. Of course,” Seraphina stepped closer and waved two fingers over Astarion. “May Tymora’s luck twist your way.”

A blue aura surrounded Astarion as he picked the lock with a quiet click. He opened the door and approached the treasure chests before Seraphina suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Ah, ah. You know the rules,” she narrowed her eyes with a smirk and pointed her finger at Astarion.

“Darling, I opened the door for us. Surely, I get to pick what I want from the treasures that I gave us access to,” Astarion pouted and slightly tilted his head down to flutter his lashes at her. Seraphina’s lips twisted as she tried to hide her smile.

“Fine, but you need to bring me anything magical, in case it’s something that Gale can use.”

Astarion scoffed.

“We’re sacrificing perfectly good equipment for him,” he sniffed, opening a chest and pocketing a pouch of gold. “I don’t see any benefit to it.”

“I sacrifice my blood for you,” Seraphina replied. “What benefit does that have?”

Astarion stiffened before he relaxed and turned on the charm. He walked to Seraphina and lowered his lips to her ear.

“Keep me around and I will make every minute of bloodlessness worth your while,” he whispered.

As quickly as she fell for his advances, Seraphina also pushed back in unexpected ways. After she read the infernal scars on his back, it made sense to sleep with her again. She had given him something, so naturally Astarion owed her something. But she refused to bite.

“We both know you want something, so let me give it to you. Now, shall we go somewhere more private than this beach?”

“Maybe I just wanted to talk to you.”

Astarion laughed right away. The concept was so silly to him. He pressed another kiss to her neck before he lifted his head to look at her and the sincerity in Seraphina’s gaze made his skin crawl.

“You would rather talk?” he asked. His smile wilted. “Do you need to be enticed out to that clearing with me, darling? Surely, I haven’t fallen out of your favor.”

“No, you haven’t.” Seraphina replied as she gently played with his hair, her fingers leaving a trail of warmth everywhere she touched. It felt…nice. Pulling away from her and spending hours simply talking about pieces of their past, the books they enjoyed, and humorous hypotheticals all felt just as nice as it did foreign and unsettling. 

At some point, Seraphina simply stared up at the disappearing stars. As the night began to turn to dusk, the thought wandered into Astarion’s mind that he should mention they’ve met before. But that was risky. She would poke and prod, curious thing that she was, asking questions that he didn’t want to answer, and his responses could spoil his entire plan. 

Astarion was committed to his plan. That’s what he told himself when panic made his limbs move faster than his brain as he carried Seraphina’s burnt, limp body to Withers after their confrontation with the githyanki. He needed his protector alive. That’s all it was. He also needed her powerful which meant he had to ensure that Gale’s preposterous talk about ending her trial didn’t actually change Seraphina’s mind.

“Why would you ever turn down the opportunity to have such incredible power at your command? Don’t listen to him,” Astarion scoffed. “He’s already experienced what it’s like to be a Chosen. He shouldn’t keep that from you, but what else can be expected of a wizard?”

It was power that could be incredibly beneficial to Astarion. Having the Chosen of the goddess of luck and good fortune on his side almost sounded too good to be true. He wasn’t about to let the wizard squander that for him. 

But then the Black Fingers attacked. Seraphina hardly left Gale’s side in the days after. She was so focused on Gale that she hardly reacted when Lae’zel returned, having tracked them down after she failed to find the creche. She greeted the gith, told her to set up her things and they could pretend as if nothing happened, and she returned to Gale’s tent without another word.

Her odd behavior extended past Seraphina’s new protectiveness over Gale. Something was clearly wrong with Seraphina. Whatever it was, it was making her reckless and uncoordinated. Astarion had started going out of his way to keep her alive. He couldn’t afford to lose the person meant to protect him. That was how he justified the fear that gripped his heart whenever he saw a blow coming straight for the sorcerer.

Astarion didn’t know what it was yet, but things started making sense when they were in Grymforge. Among the lava, Seraphina shook like a leaf. Her eyes were as big and wide as a shield. She stumbled over her words and seemed terrified, as if she expected a being to emerge from the depths.

Astarion watched as Gale grabbed Seraphina’s hand and pulled her away from the rest of the party. He placed his hands on her shoulders and whatever words they exchanged seemed to calm her nerves. Astarion wasn’t fond of that development. Before the events of the last few days and Gale’s near-death experience, he had thought that Gale had securely been knocked off as a potential threat to his standing within Seraphina’s eyes, but the wizard’s monologues appeared to be keeping their leader in one piece, which was more than Astarion was capable of.

So he let his mind wander to put together the pieces. Lava and fire appeared to trigger these freezes of hers. She utilized her magic sparingly, leaning on a quarterstaff and cantrips. Seraphina had been burned alive after her wild magic surge when they were fighting the githyanki. She didn’t talk about her life in the tendays and months before the nautiloid. Most of her recollections were from at least a year ago. 

Hmm. Seraphina was particularly fierce about ensuring the safety of the tiefling refugees in the Grove. She always seemed to shut down when Karlach spoke of her time in Avernus. It felt like Astarion had all the pieces almost perfectly aligned, but he needed Seraphina to push them into place.

That night, Astarion sought her out. Seraphina kneeled on the outskirts of camp in the middle of a small enclave. She was lit up by the glow of the native mushrooms, casting her back in purple, green, and yellow light. As he kneeled next to her, he saw that her eyes were closed. Her hands were clasped and Astarion knew she was clutching her Tymoran coin. Being able to see her face in the strange light, he was taken aback by how stunning she was. But he wanted answers and he didn’t need to be distracted.

He didn’t waste time.

“When we were all on that mind flayer ship, it went into Avernus,” Astarion said. “That wasn’t your first time there, was it?”

A beat.

She slowly opened her eyes, but her gaze remained straight, gazing out into the darkness.

“No,” Seraphina replied.

“When was the first time?” he asked.

She breathed in slowly through her nose and she slightly parted her lips to exhale.

“Not too long before I met you.”

“What happened?”

Seraphina laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was hollow and bitter. Completely unlike her. It unsettled Astarion.

“I was doing one of my – what do you call them? – hero acts,” she said.

“Yes, you find it impossible to resist those.”

“No. I can’t. I had plenty of chances to go home. Or start a new life entirely. I didn’t. I didn’t and then it was too late to turn around.”

Astarion looked down and saw that her hands were clutched around her coin so tightly that she was slightly shaking. Astarion lifted his hand and placed it over hers, squeezing. It happened so quickly that he surprised himself, but it felt…necessary to comfort her.

Once again, his mind ruminated over all his memories that he’d made with her in the last few tendays. Were there any other hints? What was she doing in Avernus? 

Seraphina turned her head and, as her eyes met his, Astarion felt as if the rest of the world had disappeared.

“Can I show you something?” she asked.

Astarion nodded. He felt her tadpole open up to him. He accepted.

And then he saw it. Seraphina was on horseback, traveling with a rather odd-looking group of adventurers and a few children. They were approaching a large city. The sun was shining brightly. No…there were two suns. Seraphina had laughed at something when, suddenly, one of the beautiful, golden suns turned an inescapable, terrifying black. It became a void.

Astarion could feel the way that the hairs on Seraphina’s neck stood up in the moment, how her tail stiffened, and her heart raced. Then, the beautiful city that the void was now suspended over, began to lift. The entire city, ripped straight from the ground. A shiver of cold dread went down Astarion’s spine as the town was yanked into the void, disappearing.

Astarion blinked and he was back in front of Seraphina.

“You saw Elturel get dragged to the hells,” Astarion said breathlessly. It was dumb to state the obvious, but he was aghast.

“Yes,” Seraphina said. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes glazed over, as if she was recalling more memories. “And I helped bring it back to the Material Plane with those people you saw. It…it was the scariest experience of my life. I shouldn’t have survived any of it. I thought that would be enough for Tymora to end my trial. It wasn’t.”

Astarion stayed quiet.

“I went home for a little while afterwards, but it felt odd being back in the city after everything. So I took another job. I can’t even remember what it was now, but all I know is that it put me back on the road, back in chaos again. I was in Yartar for that contract when the nautiloid grabbed me.”

Seraphina ceased clutching her coin and let it rest in the palm of her hand, staring at it. Her face twisted in frustration and sadness before she pocketed it with one hand, her other one holding Astarion’s.

“Even now, after all this, nothing I’ve done, nothing that I’ve risked or lost has been enough for Tymora,” she continued. “It seems she would like to see I and the people around me dead before she is satisfied.”

“You know, why rely on that power when there’s a cult right within our grasp?” Astarion asked. “Don’t limit yourself to what Tymora offers you.”

Seraphina laughed again, warmth returning to her voice.

“I’ll take control of a cult the same day that you stop enjoying murder,” she teased.

“We can’t bring the world to heel without a little killing, my sweet,” Astarion countered. “And don’t pretend as if you don’t enjoy it. I see that giddy look you get in your eyes when you know a situation is about to turn hostile.”

Seraphina smirked and turned her head to try to hide it only for Astarion to gently grab her chin and turn her to look back at him.

“My little hero. Determined to save everyone except for herself,” he mused, leaning in closer to her. “Champions like yourself deserve something every once in a while, no?”  

When Astarion led her to his tent, he kissed Seraphina until she was breathless. She pulled away, giggling, and Astarion couldn’t help his smile as he pressed his lips to her neck. Admittedly, he had started to enjoy that element of his plan – kissing her. There was something about the way that she smiled into almost every kiss. How soft her touch was as she caressed his cheek or carded her fingers through his hair. But he had to offer her more than kissing to keep her allyship.

As she moaned and writhed beneath him, she held his gaze, their breaths nearly in sync while he rocked into her. Seraphina’s orange eyes were lust-blown, pleading, and affectionate, and then playful as she giggled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. And he smiled, happy, as he captured her lips with his, and then he suddenly felt horrible. Astarion pulled away and dipped his face to her neck. The typical disgust from using his body like this was to be expected, but this feeling was different. 

That feeling sat inside him as she came undone beneath him, crying his name, and afterwards as they laid next to each other. She sweetly blinked up at him and asked if he was hungry. He relished in the sweetness of her blood and her character, her generosity, and her accepting nature. She didn’t deserve this. She deserved better than this ruse.

Seraphina was a beautiful, painful, all-too-kind problem.

Astarion caught himself staring at her again as their party stood in the dark, rumbling elevator that was taking them to the Shadow-cursed Lands. She must’ve felt his eyes on her because she turned. She smiled at him and Astarion once again felt like he was staring into the blinding light of the sun. He was almost thankful that she went back to talking to Gale immediately after, but almost just as quickly Astarion wanted to shove Gale out of the way so that he had her attention instead.

This was stupid and reckless. He could feel his plan crumbling as he fretted to try and hold it together, but it was all falling apart, slipping through his fingers like sand. The dread had to go away. It would go away. The guilt would go away. These…feelings would go away.

Surely.

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

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH 2024 | THE COLORS OF PRIDE & THEIR MEANINGS

#BG3PRIDE

Loki 'Nexus Event' // Loki 'Glorious Purpose'

You heard the warden! Chop, chop!

(P.S.: would anyone be interested in an entire line of BG3 pride stickers from me? Or even just a variation on this?)

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.”