Baldur's Gate 3 Oneshots

The Fear Of Loss

Halstarion fluff
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It had been a century since the shadow curse was placed upon the lands.  No sun could peer through the thick clouds of darkness.  No rain could pierce through.  Not even a glimmer of hope, save for the Last Light Inn.

Astarion was, perhaps, having the hardest time within these lands.  It wasn't just because of the lack of bleeding creatures...the shadows were bringing back terrible memories from his two centuries under Cazador.  Each confined space he was shoved into during battle left him hyperventilating, every sound had him on high alert, and the darkness was making his nightmares return with redoubled effects.

Trancing for even a few minutes was nigh impossible.  If the trance was too light, every sound woke him.  If it was too heavy, nightmares forced him awake.  He was fighting a losing battle with himself the longer they stayed here.

The spawn had become agitated, extremely aggressive in battle, and had closed himself off from everyone in camp.  Not even Karlach or Gale, two of his three closest companions, were able to help him.

At the current moment, Halsin had finally returned from the shadowfell with Thanie in his arms.  The druid looked terribly drained, but held an aura of victory about him.  Astarion was relieved.  Beyond relieved, he was thrilled.  Rather than show it in any sort of positive way, he felt his fists clench tight enough his nails broke the skin of his palms.  His teeth ground together and his red gaze darkened.

"You selfish bastard!" he exclaimed over the elated talking.  Gale, Karlach, and Wyll turned to him in surprise.  But only Halsin was watching him, solemn, understanding why he was lashing out.

"You go in there alone, leaving us to fight an ever-growing horde, then return looking like shit!  Why couldn't someone come to aid you!?"

No one had ever heard him sound so concerned before other than Halsin.  That concern wasn't just because he had nearly died, the druid felt, but because he would've left Astarion alone without someone to understand his plights.

Astarion refused to say anything more after that, opting to return to camp instead.  He needed to cool off somehow, clear his head.  A bath would do him good, it had been far longer than a tenday since he'd had one, which was making him uncomfortable in his own skin.

The walk to the pond was silent, for the first time since they had arrived in these cursed lands.  He stripped his clothes off, neatly folded them, and placed the pile on a rock before walking into the water.

Given the spawn's naturally cold body temperature, the water around him felt a touch warmer than he would've to any normal person.  He could feel the dirt, grime, and shadow-cursed visera from his foes slowly coming off of his skin.

It was quiet, calm...almost too calm.

'Pathetic child, do you truly think the druid will like you?  Why would he desire such a disobedient brat?'

Astarion quickly backed away from the more open water, his back hitting the edge of the pond.  Tears pooled in his eyes and his breath hitched in his throat.

Why would Halsin want him?  A broken spawn that didn't belong anywhere, least of all in nature.  No, his only purpose in life was to please his master.  But he couldn't even do that right.  He couldn't do anything right.

"Astarion?"

The pale elf jolted at the call of his name.  It was soft, caring, and came from a deep voice he knew almost better than he knew his own voice.  He swiftly wiped away his tears and turned to face Halsin.

"Ah, darling, come to have a little late night bath as well?  You don't have to ask, you know," he hummed.  His mask had easily been put up, but he feared the cracks in it would be visible to the druid.

Halsin let out a soft sigh as he sat down at the pond's edge beside Astarion.  He was hesitant, it seemed, before reaching out to place a hand on the spawn's shoulder.

"Astarion, please, do not shut me out right now.  You have a right to feel hurt and angry with me.  I have asked so much of you and given so little in return.  What can I do to make it up to you?" he gently inquired.  He wanted to aid the spawn before him, to comfort the broken elf.

The cracks were growing.

His tears reformed in his eyes.

And his mask finally shattered.

Astarion choked on a sob that had caught in his throat.  His body shook with the intensity of his emotions as he clutched onto Halsin's legs that were in the pond.  His tears flowed freely, just as they had on night he had been all alone.

"You...damn you," he murmured, "you can't leave me, not yet."

Call him selfish or cruel, but he didn't want to be left alone.  Not when he had finally let someone get close enough to tell them about his past.

The spawn felt large, careful hands pull him out of the water and onto the druid's lap like he was a kitten.  Despite the fact he was naked, he cuddled closer with his arms and legs and wrapped around Halsin's form.

"I'm sorry to have made you worry, little starling, it won't happen again," he whispered in the high elf's ear.  The breath from his words tickled the pointed ear, making it twitch and a shiver travel down the smaller elf's spine.

"Good," Astarion breathed out.

Without warning, the spawn swiftly caught Halsin's lips in a searing kiss.  It was full of want, desire, and passion that he had been hiding for the longest time.  Halsin responded in kind, carefully cupping Astarion's cheek with one hand.  After the near-death experience Halsin had gone through, it made the kiss that much more sweet to him.

The druid slowly pulled away, his thumb caressing the vampire's cheek.  Astarion leaned into the touch and carefully nuzzled the warm hand, his cool skin welcoming the heat.  That heated touch made him positive of two things.

His druid was safe and wouldn't be going anywhere.