Just A Modern AU With Astarion Trying To Drown His Despair In His Favorite Drink! 🤣🤣 It Was Too

Chapter 3: Astarion and Miss Fortune Learn to Work Together

Summary: After a petty squabble between Astarion and Miss Fortune nearly gets the whole party killed in the Overgrown Ruins, Lae’zel begins training the rogues on how to work together. Astarion gives Miss Fortune a flirtatious anatomy lesson on the best places to stab someone, somehow managing to make murder sound sexy. Miss Fortune also attempts to develop a reading habit with a strange old book they found in the ruins called ‘The Curse of the Vampyr.’

You can also read it on AO3

The overgrown ruins near the nautiloid crash site had nearly become home to five fresh corpses seeing as Miss Fortune and their companions had barely survived the encounter with the bandits occupying it. The worst of their injuries belonged to Gale, who had been practically been snapped in two by a barbarian. It was another defeat in the half-elf’s recent losing streak, and Lae’zel’s words from the previous evening about them being weak and a liability eviscerated their confidence.

The mood was tense at supper; nobody seemed willing to break the sullen silence as they tore into the turkey Lae’zel had killed on their way back to camp. As usual, Miss Fortune noted that Astarion, seated next to them, was merely pushing the food around on his plate. At one point he seemed to take the tiniest of bites, yet didn’t seem to chew or swallow. He appeared more focused on the raw gash splitting Miss Fortune’s lip than on his supper, and they resolved to ask about it someday soon. Despite the throbbing pain in their mouth, the half-elf forced themselves to eat double helpings lest they provoke the Gith into giving another lecture.

As it turned out, the extra meat wasn’t enough to earn them a silent retreat. When they finished up and stood to go lick their emotional wounds and rest their sore, freshly healed body in the comfort of their tent, they heard Lae’zel clear her throat from where she sat.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she barked. “That goes for you too, Astarion,” she added as the pale elf attempted to sneak away unnoticed.

“And why is that, Gith?” Miss Fortune sighed, world-weary.

“We all nearly died in that disastrous skirmish today, and the blame rests on both your shoulders.” The warrior rose, stalking over to where the pair of them stood. “Neither of you think before you act. You both rush in, daggers flailing, without a single plan in your vacant skulls.”

“Ouch, you wound me, Lae’zel,” Astarion sneered. “I do have a plan: to murder everyone and everything that needs killing.”

She pointed a finger into his chest. “That’s the kind of plan that gets you killed. And us along with you.” She turned her attention to Miss Fortune. “And you. You’re a pretty face with a silver tongue dripping sweet words. People like you. You can talk your way into and out of situations with ease, which is why I haven’t gutted you and taken over as leader yet.”

“Uh, thanks?” Miss Fortune said, rubbing the back of their head in confusion.

“I’m not finished. Your fighting style lacks discipline, and a freshly hatched Gith has a better head for battle tactics than you. We don’t need two rogues skulking around everywhere. If you had half a brain, you would leave the pale one at camp to watch the cook pot.”

“Now you wait just a-“ Astarion began to object, but Miss Fortune cut in.

“That’s not an option!” they shouted, their stomach twisting itself into knots. They couldn’t begin to explain why, but Astarion had become an indispensable presence for them in these short few days. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but the half-elf enjoyed his witty banter as they slogged around, and for whatever reason he was a calming presence for them. The view from behind was nothing to complain about either.

Taking a deep breath, they continued in a quieter voice: “One surprise attack can cause grievous injury to a foe; two could be lethal. There’s strength in numbers, so why should we throw the advantage of two stealthy fighters away? We can slit people’s throats before they even notice we’re there. Surely you see how valuable that could be, ‘General.’”

Lae’zel must have noticed the steely resolve in Miss Fortune’s body language and realized they wouldn’t budge on the issue. And if she bristled at the ‘General’ jab she didn’t let on. “He stays, then. But you must learn to work together. You speak of two rogues felling opponents before they can raise alarm? That doesn’t happen by chance, istik. You must get to know each other on and off the battlefield. You must think and move as one.”

“If I may,” Shadowheart interjected. “Although I mended the worst of his broken spine, Gale should rest for a few days before I would consider him fit to fight again.”

“And although I cannot explain the phenomenon at this juncture, it would appear that our parasites remain in some sort of state of stasis,” Gale added from where he rested at an incline, his face pained and glistening with sweat. “By all of the extensive accounts I’ve read on the matter we should be mind flayers by now, and yet none of us have experienced a single symptom to indicate that such a fate is on the horizon. Of course haste is still of the utmost importance, but with nary a tentacle sprouted between the pack of us I’d say we could spare a few days.”

“So it would seem,” Lae’zel considered. “It is settled then. We remain at camp until Gale is recovered, and I will train you two relentlessly. It begins now. Unsheathe your daggers.”

Astarion and Miss Fortune exchanged glances, each daring the other to protest. Neither did. Instead, they did as instructed.

“First, you must watch what the other is capable of. Learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Miss Fortune, you will begin.” She gestured to the practice dummy they had found in an abandoned merchant’s cart along the road. “You will initiate combat repeatedly. Astarion, you will note hi-” she paused, correcting herself “their speed, their mannerisms, everything you can. And then, you will switch. I will merely watch tonight, but tomorrow I will instruct. Do you understand?”

“Sounds simple enough, but are you sure this is necessary?” Astarion asked coolly.

“If you like your guts inside your body, it is.”

“When you put it that way, let’s begin!” Astarion laughed nervously.

The pale elf stood watching with his hands on his hips as Miss Fortune ran through the exercise over and over. Tonight, they practiced a stealthy approach where they crouched down and drew closer to the practice dummy as quietly as possible before delivering a swift, sudden strike.

The sun was beginning to set, leaving pockets of darkness Miss Fortune could step or roll between to stay obscured. Fresh as they’d been to the thieves guild, they’d done several jobs for them working the streets. It was those experiences they tried to conjure memories of to guide their movements. But even so, those jobs were mostly to cut purse strings or extract information. Prior to being kidnapped they’d only killed one person before. And that first kill had been left with so many stab wounds the detectives hadn’t been able to identify the body. So while they’d excelled at stealth, their sneak attacks were guesswork at best. They had no idea where to stab a body to do the most damage in one go.

Over and over again Miss Fortune retreated, snuck their way over to the practice dummy, and jabbed. They tried to ignore the nerves that came with being assessed as they realized Astarion and Lae’zel’s eyes never left them. When sweat began to drench their shirt they simply removed it. Goose flesh dimpled their skin and a shiver went down their spine from the sudden cold. It wasn’t until about five rounds after the half-elf thought they couldn’t take it anymore that Lae’zel told them to stop.

“Enough. Astarion, report. What are their strengths and weaknesses?” Lae’zel demanded.

Astarion crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re nimble, darling, and you have a good eye for keeping to the shadows. But you have no idea where to aim your blade,” he said, sounding bored.

“That’s not what I’m used to hearing,” Miss Fortune smirked, flicking their gaze briefly downwards toward their crotch and back.

“Oh ha ha, what a time to develop a sense of humor.” Astarion rolled his eyes, then sauntered over to where the half-elf stood. “Allow me to show you.” He stood right behind them, his breath in their ear as he drew a sharp finger across their throat. “I’m sure you’re acquainted with every rogue’s favorite spot, the throat slit.”

Miss Fortune became aware of his scent for the first time - a combination of earth, citrus, and something else they couldn’t quite place. They found it utterly alluring. “You smell good,” was all they could think to say.

“I know, darling, I missed my calling as a perfumer. Do try not to let my aroma distract you,” the pale elf chided as he moved his hand slightly to the left, nearing the side of their neck. Miss Fortune visibly tensed, waiting. He mimed a stab-and-jerk motion to the side of their Adam’s apple. “A jab like this and they’ll bleed out in moments, gurgling helplessly on their own blood.” He moved again, now hovering a hand over their eyes. “A quick stab through the eye will render a brain quite useless. You could achieve a similar effect jabbing through the back of their neck, though your blade is more likely to get stuck if you don’t know what you’re doing - and you clearly don’t, not yet.” Next his hand went to their ribs, and as his fingertips brushed against their exposed skin Miss Fortune shivered; was Astarion cold to the touch, or was their sweat-soaked body merely playing tricks on them?

“A quick jab between the ribs will puncture a lung and they’ll be unable to call for help,” Astarion continued. Even talking about murder, the man’s voice was so sensual and calming, somehow soft and gravelly at the same time. Miss Fortune realized it would take a great deal of willpower to not just agree to anything he asked for when he used that voice. The pale elf’s hands traced along their ribs down to their lower back before miming another double jab. “Those darling kidneys back here don’t like to be prodded either; while this won’t bring as swift a death as other places, rest assured your target will not be long for this world without those organs.”

The cold feeling dissipated as Astarion stopped touching them and continued the demonstration elsewhere on their body. “Nobody expects a thrust to the armpit, yet you can get a lovely bloodletting from that most unguarded place,” he said as he once again moved his hand to mime thrusting into the crook of their arm. “And of course, darling, there’s always a good stab upwards at the crotch. But we’re not on intimate enough terms yet for me to show you that one,” he teased, stepping away.

“If you’re done with your demonstration, it’s your turn Astarion,” Lae’zel interjected.

The pair of rogues switched places. Miss Fortune felt ill at ease standing with Lae’zel. They blocked her presence out of their mind, instead putting all their focus on watching Astarion run through the same maneuvers they’d just finished. The half-elf noted with approval how gracefully he moved as he flitted across the clearing. Almost like a cat, his feet hardly seemed to touch the ground at times. They were certain his stealthiness surpassed theirs. When it came time to strike, however, Miss Fortune noticed two things: he seemed to hesitate for a split moment deciding where to strike, and his strikes were surprisingly weak given his athletic physique. His build was slighter than theirs but his muscles were better defined, so the revelation was baffling. They relayed these thoughts to both Lae’zel and Astarion when it came time to report their findings.

“I’m merely holding back, darling, wouldn’t want to intimidate you if we’re going to be forced to work together,” Astarion sniffed, though his eyes darted to the side as he spoke.

“Enough,” Lae’zel cut in. “I agree with your assessments of each other. You’re dismissed for the night. Rest up, I won’t go easy on you tomorrow.” She left without waiting for a response, leaving the rogues alone in the clearing at the edge of camp.

“Well, this is an interesting development,” Miss Fortune tested the waters.

“Mm, yes, I suppose it is,” Astarion drawled, once again sounding bored.

“I’m gonna go wash up in the river; care to join me?”

“I’ll pass, little bird. I’ve got my own needs to see to.”

“Understandable,” Miss Fortune said with a smile, trying to mask their disappointment. “Perhaps I’ll catch you around the fire after?”

“Perhaps,” Astarion said with a noncommittal wave of his hand as he turned to leave.

The first thing Miss Fortune did when they got back from the river was stop by Gale’s tent to see how he was feeling. They felt a pang of guilt when they realized he’d already turned in for the night. It had been a jolt to their nervous system watching the barbarian bandit smash his back against their knee. They could still hear the sickening snap of his spine, feel the erratic racing of their heart as they feared for their new friend’s life. Lae’zel had been right. They had bickered with Astarion over their approach and wound up alerting the group to their presence, effectively handing over the advantage. Gale was in this sorry state because of them, and now they’d have to stew in their guilt a little longer before they could properly apologize.

Miss Fortune recognized that familiar dark, heavy fog rolling through their brain, and they thought of the other night when Astarion barged in on them furiously jerking off in order to earn enough peace for a night of sleep. Remembered his words of how so-called normal people handled insomnia and decided to try reading the book they’d nabbed from the ruins that day.

And so it was that Astarion returned to camp to find Miss Fortune stretched out on their stomach by the fire, brow furrowed as they stared down at a mildewy tome.

“Ah, I see you’re picking up a new hobby,” the pale elf interrupted smugly. “Borrowed a book from Gale, did you? This one has seen better days. I would have thought the wizard would take better care of his most prized possessions.”

Miss Fortune looked up from the ancient text. “I grabbed this from the ruins today - it looked cool, but…I’m having a hard time reading it. Seems like the writing is very old.”

“Hmm, mind if I have a look?” He asked as he glided down to sit beside them. Miss Fortune pushed themselves up and handed the book over. He snapped the book shut to observe the cover and looked as if someone had doused him with icy cold water. “The Curse of the Vampyr?! What in the hells possessed you to pick up a book like this?”

“I…what’s wrong with it?”

Within moments the calm, charming mask was back in place. “Oh, nothing really, this is just much too advanced for a novice reader like yourself. Tell you what: why don’t I take this off your hands, and you can borrow one of my storybooks? I’m sure I have something more suitable. I might even have one with pictures.”

“…Sure, sounds great,” Miss Fortune said suspiciously. They could tell something was off about this situation, they just couldn’t tell what. “Thank you.”

“Of course, of course, anything for my favorite traveling companion.” His face was too perfectly composed, only deepening the half-elf’s unease. They decided to change the subject. “On another note, Astarion, I’ve noticed that you haven’t really eaten much of anything the last few days.”

“Have you now?”

“I struggle with that, too. Growing up I sometimes was purposely not given food for days at a time so I could be thinner, and even now it can be difficult not to do it to myself.”

“…I see.” His face was unreadable, as if resolved to give nothing away.

“You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. Just know that I get it and I’m here if you want to talk. But keeping our strength up is more important right now than a thin waist. That’s what I keep trying to tell myself, anyway.”

“Heh, you’re sweet. Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be up for sharing in due time, little bird. But for now, let me fetch you a new book.”

He rose, taking The Curse of the Vampyr with him into his tent. He returned moments later, a fresher, smaller text in his hand. “Here,” he said, holding it out. “This one’s got dashing knights and the like, should be far easier to get through.”

“Hopefully it will help quiet my mind,” Miss Fortune sighed as they took the offered book.

“Well, I suppose you’ve always got your old fallback plan if it doesn’t, hmm?” His grin was nearly predatory.

“Hey, whatever works, right?” Miss Fortune shot back, refusing once again to give him leverage over them for that. “Thanks again for the book. I’d better get to quieting my mind one way or another. Sweet dreams,” they said as they got up, rolling their bedroll back up. They spared one last backward glance on their way to the tent to find Astarion watching them go. In the glow of the fire, they noticed a deep sadness in his eyes that matched the brokenness Miss Fortune felt inside. They felt an invisible tug to go back over to him but ignored it - it was too soon, they reminded themselves.

“Sweet dreams,” Astarion replied before he, too, got up to put out the fire and return to his tent.

Sweet dreams were not in the cards for Miss Fortune, however. That night they thrashed wildly in their bedroll, sweaty and afraid, as visions flitted through their mind. They dreamt they were stuck in a bird cage with nothing but a bed clad in the finest silk sheets. As the scene panned out they were one of hundreds of people trapped in a field of birdcages. A pair of giant hands methodically opened each cage, removed the person, and either choked the life out of them or outright snapped their necks. The walls of Miss Fortune’s mind reverberated with the sickening sounds of bones snapping and people gurgling, fighting for breath. As each one died the giant discarded them unceremoniously into a pile until they had to crane their neck to see to the top of the pile of corpses. Their dream self searched the whole cage for a secret exit, finding none. Next they tried to pick the lock of their cage but their fingers didn’t work right and they kept dropping their lockpick. The hands reached their cage and the half-elf tried to flee only to find the silk bedsheets had come to life, wrapping themselves around their wrists and ankles. They were bound tight as the hand reached in for them, the giant’s rumbling laugh shaking through their whole skeleton.

“Do you want a quick death or a slow one?” it boomed.

“Quick!” Miss Fortune shouted, eliciting more peals of booming thunderous laughter.

“You don’t deserve a quick death. Request denied.” And a hand closed around their windpipe.

A very low effort meme for you all today

Even better if they are occasionally unreliable narrators

absolutely love abusing the power that comes with 3rd person limited pov and just ignoring things and being vague sometimes. does the character know all the details? no? then I don't have to either.

That about sums it up! 🙃

Fanfiction writers be like:

"here's the immensely time consuming 100K word novel-length passion project I'm working on between my real life job and family! It eats up hundreds of hours of my one and only life, causes me emotional harm, and I gain basically nothing from it! Also I put it on the internet for free so anyone can read if they want. Hope you love it!" :)

Hey there! I hadn’t shared this illustration yet, and I was super excited to finally show it to you👀✨🔮💜❤️

Astarion’s simple plan

Chapter 2: A Reluctant Leader

In the interest of keeping things family friendly on Tumblr, I’ve left out the mild 🌶️ part - you can read the whole chapter on AO3, though!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/165181885#workskin

Summary: Gale and Lae’zel join the party, and Lae’zel has choice criticisms about Miss Fortune’s battle prowess. Miss Fortune continues to unravel at night, and Astarion catches them mid-pity party. The pair discuss the gift of freedom.

Two fresh faces sat around the campfire tonight, their unfamiliar features illuminated by its orange glow as the stars above yawned and stretched awake. Miss Fortune was exhausted from all the walking, from having to play the leader - now with more people to herd around. Gale of Waterdeep, a wizard, seemed pleasant enough, if a bit long-winded and over-confident. Miss Fortune found it amusing that he claimed prodigy status in nearly the same breath as he’d needed to be pulled out of a waypoint he’d trapped himself in with a wayward spell. But the rogue liked the kind twinkle in his eyes, his gentle demeanor; and they certainly couldn’t complain about the delicious stew he’d stirred up from their foraging today.

They’d also found the green woman again - Lae’zel was her name. A Githyanki warrior. Miss Fortune had never met a Githyanki before, and from the little glimpse of the culture they’d gotten so far, they were glad they’d been spared this long. They didn’t care for her brusque attitude or her threatening glare. Rescuing her from the rickety cage those tieflings had trapped her in also introduced additional tension into their group as Shadowheart and Lae’zel quickly displayed a festering enmity towards one another. Miss Fortune didn’t envy their future self if they had to eventually choose between the two.

It was just Miss Fortune and the new additions sitting around the fire for supper. Shadowheart had made it clear she did not wish to break bread with a Githyanki, and Astarion had made some excuse about being eager to get back to an exciting part of his book while he ate.

“Thanks for cooking, Gale,” Miss Fortune said to the wizard. “This was delicious.”

“My pleasure, Miss Fortune,” Gale replied. “Can’t say I’m much of a hunter, but I’m happy to do my part around the hearth.”

“Serve yourself another helping,” Lae’zel commanded, staring the half-elf down. Her disdain for them was clearly visible even from the other side of the fire.

“Excuse me?” Miss Fortune replied.

“You are underfed,” the warrior insisted. “Scrawny. Weak. If you don’t gather your strength, you won’t last a tenday.” She stood, stalking around the fire to where Miss Fortune sat. “Stand. Let me show you.”

The half-elf looked to Gale for help, but the wizard was avoiding eye contact and looking deeply uncomfortable. Perhaps hearing a shift in the tone of their banter, Astarion had come out of his tent, leaning casually against the pole of the canopy with his arms crossed over his chest. Miss Fortune realized they were on their own. Humoring Lae’zel, they stood sullenly, setting their bowl down by the log they’d been sitting on.

Lae’zel circled them like a hyena sniffing out carrion, her long, sharp fingers poking and prodding as she went. “I feel sharp rib bones where there should be muscle. A hollow stomach, weak arms. How do you expect to fight like this? Tsk’va, can you even bear the weight of a sword?”

“Three days ago I wasn’t expected to fight at all,” Miss Fortune said, staring her down.

“Circumstances have changed, istik. You’re pathetic. If we had been raised together at my crèche, you would have been such a liability that I would have killed you at the first opportunity, if the sa’varsh didn’t cull you first.”

Miss Fortune’s mind reeled at the abusive words being spat at them. The insults burrowed into their mind deeper than the tadpole; the half-elf could feel them taking root, spreading the rot of self-loathing further still. Just what I needed, they thought. More ways to be insecure. Lae’zel’s criticisms were a sharp contrast to everything they’d grown up hearing, when they were denied food for not being thin enough. This was a new chapter in a long saga of always being too much and not enough all at once. And yet, with both Astarion and Gale bearing witness to their humiliation, a small voice in the back of their mind urged them to resist.

“Do you hear me?” Lae’zel hissed. Her hand shot out to grab at Miss Fortune’s chin. Panic clawed at them in that instant as flashbacks played through their mind of so many different hands wrapping themselves around their neck; crushed windpipes, ugly purple bruises, coming to with a healer’s face looming over them, gasping for breath even as the air felt like fire in their lungs. Pure instinct kicked in as they evaded lightning fast and elbowed her in the stomach, stepping out of range before she could react.

“Touch me again without my permission and you’ll find out firsthand how deadly I can be,” they threatened. Miss Fortune donned a mask of steely resolve that they hoped would look more believable than it felt. “There are more ways to be lethal than brute strength, Gith, and you’d do well to remember that next time you wish to humiliate me in front of our companions.”

Lae’zel remained doubled over while she fought to regain her breath. Once she did, she smiled cruelly. “Good. So he does have a spine in there somewhere.” Did Miss Fortune detect a hint of respect in her tone? Probably not.

“‘They.’ My pronouns are they/them.”

“Chk. Your pronouns will be was/were if you don’t bulk up. My warning stands.”

“Lae’zel, down girl,” Astarion cut in at last, remaining well outside her reach. “I think you’ve made your point.”

Miss Fortune let out a huge sigh of relief as they watched the warrior stomp off to her tent and immediately begin sparring with the air. They picked their bowl back up and took a second helping, sitting back down next to Gale.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” they said to the wizard.

“I’m sorry I didn’t step in,” he replied, bashful. “Truth be told, that one intimidates me.”

“Ha! You’re in good company then,” Astarion drawled as he sauntered back over to the fire, taking a seat on the other side of Miss Fortune. “You did well standing up to her, though if I were you I’d sleep lightly tonight.”

“Thanks, Astarion. So comforting. Anyway…Gale, what’s Waterdeep like? I’d never left Baldur’s Gate before my abduction.”

Gale was more than happy to regale them with extensive stories on the history and landmarks of Waterdeep as well as his personal fond memories while Miss Fortune finished eating. The half-elf made a point to nod along and voice noncommittal approval every now and again, but they noticed Astarion made no such effort. He instead chose to slouch back and inspect his nails, which he kept filed in neat points.

“Astarion, you’ve got cleanup duty tonight,” Miss Fortune stated once Gale’s story had petered out.

“And break a nail? I think not,” the pale elf retorted haughtily.

“Everyone does their part, your honor,” Miss Fortune warned as they slapped their knees and stood up. “There’s no servants out here. I’m going to go check on Shadowheart. Later, gentlemen.”

“Ugh, fine,” they heard Astarion complain as they walked away.

Miss Fortune found Shadowheart kneeling in prayer in front of her tent, head bowed and hands steepled. They wordlessly kneeled in front of her, waiting for a small while before she noticed another presence nearby.

“Hi,” she smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Just checking in,” Miss Fortune smiled back. “I noticed the tension between you and our new Githyanki companion.” They shuffled a little closer until their knees were almost touching, and Miss Fortune was pleased, if not a bit surprised, that the cleric didn’t shuffle away.

“I would be lying if I said I welcome her addition to the party,” she admitted. “I don’t trust her.” The cleric shifted her posture, moving from kneeling to a relaxed cross-legged pose. She fished the mysterious artifact out from a pocket and began toying idly with it. Miss Fortune made a silent note to get her to spill the truth about that as soon as possible.

“I know, and I’m with you. I don’t trust her either, but she seems so confident about the cure waiting in her crèche. We can’t afford to turn our nose up at any leads, Shadowheart.”

“I hate that you’re right,” she admitted. “I’ll do my best to be civil but that’s as much as I can promise. You’d do well to demand the same from her.”

Miss Fortune held up their hands in surrender. “I’ll see what I can do, but not tonight. She’s already detailed the many reasons I should die over dinner; I’d hate to add more to her list.”

Shadowheart gasped, then put a hand over her mouth to stifle laughter. “Did she?!”

“With Gale as my very unsupportive witness I can assure you, she did.”

Unable to keep it contained, Shadowheart’s sharp laugh cracked like a whip in the space between them. “I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I almost wish I’d seen it. Anyway, thanks for checking on me. I’d do well to get back to my nightly prayers. Goodnight, Miss Fortune.”

“Goodnight, Shadowheart,” they said as they rose.

The campfire was deserted by the time Miss Fortune ambled back over, and they couldn’t tell whether they felt relieved or disappointed. They realized the specific company may have tilted the emotion in one direction or the other; on one hand they were relieved Lae’zel was out of sight. But Astarion remained aloof and something of an enigma, one the half-elf was curious to uncover. Perhaps another night, they thought to themselves.

Alone, Miss Fortune threw a few more sticks on the fire before taking a seat in front of it. The cracks of dry wood igniting and the drone of insects chirping filled the night air. The sounds were still unfamiliar and overwhelming to them, but less so than the night before. They remained unnerved by just how small and insignificant it made them feel to sit under a blanket of stars, however. They were just a speck of dust floating through the world, really. A speck of dust that now had four people looking to them for answers they didn’t have.

With a heavy sigh, Miss Fortune realized they’d traded the panic of the previous night for a sinking, familiar numbness. They pulled their knees to their chest and stared unblinking into the dancing flames, letting their eyes go unfocused as they burned and watered. An ugly thought intruded: what if they just…laid down in the fire? The pain wouldn’t last long, and on the other side of it would be blissful nothingness. No more being too much and yet not enough. No more parasite, no more nightmares. But no, the fire wasn’t big enough anyway, and the smell would likely wake someone up in time to douse the flames and heal their mangled flesh. If only mending the mind were as simple as calling upon one’s god and shouting te curo.

Miss Fortune held vigil over the dying fire until the last embers turned to ash before they doused it with water out of an abundance of caution; Shadowheart had warned to never trust a dry fire pit to stay dormant. At last they retreated to their tent, collapsing on their bedroll with a groan. The heavy blanket of numbness continued to weigh on their chest, yet their mind would not relinquish the drone of insecurities in favor of sleep. They knew from countless other nights like this that no amount of pleading with themselves would bring the sweet relief of sleep.

There was only one thing that usually worked when their mind was in this state. With a heavy sigh, they slid down their breeches…

Read the rest here

The Embrace of Love and Death, Chapter 5: Playing with Knives

Chapter summary: Lae’zel puts Astarion and Miss Fortune through the paces, training them relentlessly until they learn to work together better. Things get flirtatious between the rogues as they get to know each other better, and Shadowheart puts Miss Fortune on the spot to reveal their past.

Read the full chapter on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/64221298/chapters/166716742

Excerpt:

“It’s time for the two of you to start warming up,” the warrior commanded as soon as she noticed Miss Fortune was done eating. There was no room for bargaining or arguing in her tone. “You will go to the clearing, you will stretch every muscle, do push-ups, sit-ups, and squats to exhaustion twice, and lastly you will run until I decide to come stop you. Then, I will train you until I am satisfied that you’ve learned the lesson at hand.”

Miss Fortune could hear Astarion complaining under his breath the whole way to the clearing, and when they arrived he turned on them with a huff.

“Why don’t you just leave me at camp to watch the cook pot?” He demanded, waving his hands wildly. “Why put us through all this just to keep me on the road with you?”

“Is that what you want? To stay in camp?” They asked as they began to stretch their arms and shoulders.

“Wha—I didn’t say that,” the vampire countered, beginning his own stretches. “It’s just, wouldn’t that be easier?”

“And miss out on your witty banter and gorgeous face all day? Doesn’t sound easier to me,” Miss Fortune grinned.

“Oh, well in that case…” Astarion feigned sheepishness, brushing a curl behind his pointy ear. “Glad to see someone around here has good taste.”

“And you would know after last night, wouldn’t you? How good my taste is?” Miss Fortune dropped to the ground to begin stretching the lower half of their body. They chanced a quick glance up at the vampire and noticed an almost imperceptible shudder of ecstasy as he presumably recalled the taste of their blood. The half-elf had to look away quickly, hoping he didn’t catch sight of the hot blush razing across their cheeks.

“Aha! How delightful. Yes, you were scrumptious, my sweet. But to whom am I speaking today? Because it’s certainly not the same sad little bird who was ready to curl up and die last night.” Astarion followed suit, practically bending himself in half with seemingly no effort. Miss Fortune tried unsuccessfully not to let their eyes - or mind - drift too much at the sight. There was no denying that he had a great body, and the incredible flexibility had them feeling some type of way.

I don't know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I'd like to.

I used the photomode mod to take a look at Astarion's love confession scene. Normally, the camera is focused on Tav when choosing what to say.

These are the expressions Astarion is making off-screen while you are hovering over dialogue options.

Look at this handsome lil devil!! 😈

I spent the last two weeks crocheting a Raphael doll so here he is in his insufferable smugness. He's around 9 inches/24 cm tall.

I freehanded him but I'm considering writing down the pattern... If you're interested, keep your eyes peeled for that. It's not super technical, just very long.

A very polite gentleman.

"Alone on a Friday night? Pathetic."

"Get yourself a date, loser."

Some details below the cut