A/N: Important note at the end of the chapter. :)
~O~
As they made their way toward the Thorm Mausoleum, the air was noticeably tense. No one spoke as they walked through the eerie and blighted streets that filled what was once Ketheric's hometown.
"So," Astarion said, breaking the silence with a playfully curious tone. "Aside from bringing us Shadowheart, what did the big bear say before whisking off our Bella?"
Solas cast him a worried glance. "He mentioned the Shadow Curse. For whatever reason, Arabella's presence was required at the inn, though he kept the details to himself."
"My friend, is there ever a moment you're not shadowed by anxiety?" Astarion prodded lightly, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
Solas looked genuinely surprised by his comment and frowned before saying, "Yes. But I don't enjoy being away from her." The thought of being torn away from her after all of this was over continued to weigh heavily on his mind, which certainly didn't help matters.
Astarion gave him a curious look, his eyes narrowing slightly before grinning at the mage. "She's a big girl, you know. But I... I know the feeling."
It was then Solas noticed a stark change in Astarion's expression, a veil lifted, revealing a depth of emotion for Arabella that had been hinted at previously but never so openly displayed. Even though he had known the rogue harbored more feelings for her than he let on, seeing it so plainly on his face made Solas feel a twinge of jealousy in his gut—a sensation both foreign and intense. Why? What had changed to stir such a feeling in him?
As the silhouette of the Thorm Mausoleum came into view, its ancient stones whispering secrets of the past, the group's march was momentarily shadowed by the realization that they had no idea what to expect in there.
"It seems the mausoleum is just ahead. Luckily, there's a waypoint nearby. It should make our travel back to the Inn significantly more straightforward," Shadowheart noted, her voice steady and focused amidst the shadows that danced around them.
Before Solas could respond, the air itself seemed to shiver, giving way to none other than Raphael's dramatic entrance. The devil, embodying charm and malevolence in equal measure, offered them an impish smirk, his presence an omen that sent ripples of unease through the group. With a smooth and intoxicating voice, he unfurled a rhyme that hinted at dangers untold, veiling warnings beneath the veneer of poetry.
Solas didn't hold back his glare, pinning Raphael in place with his piercing gaze. "Why are you here?" he demanded, his tone sharp, cutting through the devil's theatrics with a clarity that mirrored his growing distrust.
Raphael's laughter, deep and resonant, wove through the air, a dark melody that seemed to mock their predicament. He then laid before them a cryptic but dire request—to eliminate the orthon hidden within the depths of the mausoleum. According to Raphael, allowing the creature to remain free in their world would only herald the spread of pestilence across the realm.
Solas eyed him skeptically. He knew the devil was withholding more than a few details, and he wasn't about to entertain the notion of helping him do anything. That was until Astarion interjected, his demeanor seemingly composed and indifferent. Yet, beneath the cover of casualness in Astarion's voice, Solas could hear the subtle undercurrent of desperation. It was a tone he never expected to hear from the vampire.
As Astarion asked about the mysterious runes etched into his skin, Raphael's reaction was almost predatory, his delight palpable in the thickening air. His explanation, deliberately vague, hinted at the profound significance these markings held for Cazador, adding layers of intrigue and mystery but offering no concrete answers.
"I will reveal all once the beast that lurks below is vanquished and sent back to the Hells." And with a dramatic flourish, the devil disappeared.
Solas' concern was written plainly on his face, the lines of his frown deepening as he studied Astarion with open confusion. The sudden shift in his stance towards Raphael seemed out of character.
"Last we met the devil, you seemed explicitly against making any sort of deal with him. What's changed?" Solas asked.
Astarion's expression shifted, the usual sharpness of his features giving way to a momentary defensiveness. "Quite a bit, actually," he admitted, his voice taking on an icy edge.
The silence that followed was heavy. Both men were locked in a gaze that seemed to exacerbate the distance between them, a silent conversation flowing beneath the surface.
Shadowheart's voice, clear and firm, cut through the tension. "We need to move," she urged, her focus on the mission at hand serving as a reminder of the urgency of their task. Karlach echoed her sentiment, their voices pulling Solas and Astarion back to the present, to the reality of the danger that lurked beneath the mausoleum and the task that lay before them.
With a final, lingering look, Solas broke away from him, the unspoken words between them left hanging in the air.
~O~
What happened within was shrouded in chaos. Solas' heart dropped as he watched Astarion, with characteristic bravado, leap into the fray against Yurgir, the orthon. His worry was a tight knot in his chest, frustration bubbling at the vampire's reckless charge. It was like watching a comet hurtle towards its inevitable end—brilliant, but potentially catastrophic.
As Yurgir countered Astarion's attack with brutal force, the rest could only watch in horror. The orthon wielded dark energies that appeared to distort the air itself, lancing his potent bombs wherever they were most lethal. And even with Astarion's agility and skill, he was no match for Yurgir's rapid and ruthless blow that sent him sprawling, a cry of pain slicing through the chaos.
Solas' worry transformed into action. "Protect Astarion!" he shouted, urgency lending speed to his movements.
Karlach roared a battle cry and charged, her greataxe a silver flash in the dim light. Shadowheart, invoking Shar's name, wove protective spells with a fervor, her devotion manifesting as a shield around them. The battle raged, a maelstrom of steel, shadow, and spellcraft. Karlach danced through oncoming attacks, her strikes painting a bloody picture of her experience in hellish combat, while Shadowheart's magic pulsed in the air, weaving a tapestry of light and darkness that repelled the onslaught of blows.
When Solas finally unleashed his own power, he felt fueled by an unrivaled surge of protectiveness, the force of it taking him by surprise. Magic, ancient and wild, coursed through his veins, directed by his will and his desperation to save his friend. His spells lashed out at Yurgir, a storm of chaotic fury that matched the orthon's darkness with the raw force of the Fade that was nestled deeply within him.
And then, in a moment charged with fear and hope, the tide turned. A combined assault, powered by their shared resolve, and a hint of luck, broke through the orthon's defenses. Overwhelmed by their relentless attack, Yurgir faltered, his form beginning to fracture under the weight of their combined might, and with a final, concerted effort, the creature was vanquished, dissolving into the shadows.
They rushed to Astarion's side, Solas' heart pounding with relief and worry. The vampire was injured, yes, but alive. As they tended to his wounds, there was a shared sense of accomplishment among them, a lightness in the air despite the gravity of their ordeal. Shadowheart cast a healing spell over him, his face reflecting the easing of his pain and injuries.
Solas knelt down beside him, his eyes meeting Shadowheart and Karlach's, before asking them to give him a moment alone with the recovering elf. He watched them walk away with a solemn expression, before turning to face Astarion.
"You cannot throw yourself into reckless danger and expect no one to care about what happens to you, Astarion." His voice was laden with frustration, but his eyes carried a depth of concern.
Astarion scoffed, a wry smirk on his lips. "Careful now, Solas, or I might start to think you care," he said, his crimson eyes challenging. "Besides, I'm sure you'd love to have Arabella all to yourself." His words, though flippant, held a sting of vulnerability that flashed briefly in his gaze.
Solas' reply was immediate, a reflex born of his own complex feelings towards Arabella and Astarion both. "It is for her that I even put up with your selfish behavior." And as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, his feelings for the pair so tangled and intricately woven, that he couldn't begin to unravel it all.
Astarion rolled his eyes, his armor of cynicism momentarily reinforced. "Gods above. What an honor. The sage and perfect Solas is making a great sacrifice that somehow benefits me. Spare me your pretentious bullshit, dear boy."
Solas scowled, his aggravation mounting at the rogue's attempts at redirection. "Pull yourself together, Astarion. Stop deflecting. I know you're desperate to rid yourself of Cazador. I understand, believe me, but—"
Astarion's next words cut through the air, raw and unguarded. "Understand? Really? Have you ever lived under the will of someone so powerful, so evil, that your whole life, your entire existence, was defined by whatever cruel whim they wished to entertain?" There was a glimpse into the depth of his suffering in his eyes, the weight of his chains laid bare.
Solas met his gaze unflinchingly, his own expression softening with empathy. "You presume much. You're not the only one who carries the pain of a dark past filled with bloodshed and forced servitude. Slavery, Astarion. Let us not mince words. I was once a slave, bound to a sorceress who wielded her power over my body, as well as my spirit."
Astarion, momentarily taken aback, arched an eyebrow, visibly interested. "And?" he prompted, his usual defiance tempered by curiosity.
Solas grimaced. "And I broke free. I led a rebellion, liberating others who sought freedom… which then led to another war." His voice trailed off, his jaw clenched. "Hundreds of years. Countless deaths. All of it leading to crafting a spell to banish those in power, only to have possibly killed all of my people…"
Astarion's expression softened, his veiled arrogance replaced by a somber reflection. "Then you should understand better than anyone why I need Raphael's help in this matter." His words were quiet, but not the acknowledgment of their shared scars.
"But to what end?" Solas grimaced, his gray eyes stormy as he regarded his friend.
Astarion's characteristic smirk returned, a hint of his typical confidence peeking through. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"
~O~
Solas' jaw clenched tightly as he observed Shadowheart's ritual sacrifice, her blood slowly seeping into the ceremonial bowl. His gaze drifted towards Astarion, whose smirk was as evident as his dexterity, deftly maneuvering through the magical labyrinth laid before them. Moments later, the rogue materialized with a triumphant flair, brandishing a luminescent orb that radiated with purple light.
"Like stealing candy from a gnome," he said with a light-hearted chuckle, his accomplishment hanging in the air like a badge of cunning.
The ritualistic offering to Shar was performed once again by the cleric, in preparation for the next ordeal. The room presented an invisible path leading to another radiant orb.
Feeling a deep pull from within, Solas closed his eyes and surrendered to the surge of magic within him, the tadpole in his brain quivering in response, perhaps in awe or apprehension. His form dissipated into a mist, traversing the void with ethereal grace, until he reached the altar bearing the luminous prize. He claimed the orb before solidifying back to his mortal form beside his companions.
Shadowheart's eyes sparkled with admiration and surprise, though she quickly masked her fascination with her characteristic reserve. Karlach, on the other hand, was openly impressed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Mate, that was fucking incredible! You should do that more often!" Her voice was filled with genuine awe.
"I'll keep that in mind, Karlach," he said with a laugh, offering her a modest smile.
The final trial awaited them, with Shadowheart once more braving the ritualistic offering, though now her expression bore the toll of her efforts, marked by pain and exhaustion.
They stepped into a seemingly vacant courtyard, its silence suddenly shattered by the onslaught of adversaries bearing their exact likenesses. Solas, however, faced a doppelganger not of himself but one mirroring the one he cared for most. The realization struck a chord within him, and though it pained him to do so, he dispatched the figure with a heavy heart, her form dissipating into the void as though she had never existed.
A pang of longing surged through Solas as he wondered about Arabella's current undertaking with Halsin, wishing for her swift and safe return. The mere thought of anything amiss befalling her was a notion he could not, would not entertain.
Once their spirit clones were all taken care of, they grabbed the last orb they needed. As they traveled deeper into the old temple, they passed a grand room that appeared to be a library. The entryway was coated in what appeared to be a magical barrier. When Astarion stuck his finger through the barrier, he turned to them with a curious look on his face, like a mischievous cat looking for trouble.
"It's a silencing spell. This might be fun," he said, earning him disapproving glances from all except Karlach, who was always geared up for a good old-fashioned brawl.
They made a game plan and entered the library. Astarion crept through the room, Solas crouched by his side, as he approached the source of the spell, a massive sphere with an eerie dark purple aura. Astarion plunged his dagger into its core, and with his off-hand dagger struck it again, shattering the sphere. With the barrier of silence broken, Solas cast a spell of chain-lightning that traveled from one Dark Justiciar to another in a satisfying arc. Karlach and Shadowheart deftly took care of the stragglers, a rush of adrenaline visible on their faces as the fight drew to a close.
As they rode down to a room filled with Shar's presence, from a massive statue with her likeness, to the very walls whispering her name, they slowly approached a large pool of water. Shadowheart knelt before her goddess' image, laying down her newly acquired spear by her side, her eyes closed in what Solas could only assume was prayer.
Not wanting to disturb her, Solas stood behind with the others, his gaze scanning the great room with interest. What was it about those who considered themselves deities and structures like this, he wondered. It appeared as though some customs extended beyond realms. Just then, a patch of runes on a large relief caught his eye. He recognized the markings; it was an inactive waypoint. He pressed his hand to it, his eyes closing as he let himself source the Weave, trying to activate the magical portal. Within seconds he felt the familiar thrum of the waypoint's arcana, a smile spreading across his face when he stepped back, the swirling vortex sparking and singing in its raw state of chaotic magic.
"You sly dog," Astarion cooed, sidling up next to him and crossing his arms. "I do so hate walking any more than necessary." He ran his fingers through his hair, an air of relief surrounding him.
Shadowheart approached them quietly, her face conflicted, yet it was clear she didn't want to broach the reason why. Instead, she eyed the swirling vortex with a distant look, her eyes almost glassy, before she spoke.
"We should rest here and gather our strength before venturing further. We've been through much today." She walked towards a stone relief bearing intricate carvings of the Lady of Darkness.
Karlach heaved a big sigh. "Oh, yes," she said with a groan, reaching into her backpack and pulling out some dried meat and bread. "I'm starving."
Solas looked at the barbarian with an amused grin, shaking his head softly before meeting Astarion's eyes. Their gazes seemed to speak without a word, yet it was Shadowheart who spoke up.
"Go get her," she said. Her eyes were closed as she rested her head against the wall. "Just come back quickly." She opened her eyes and met their surprised faces with a laugh that only seemed to deepen their surprise. With an arched eyebrow, she gave them a rare smile. "Well?"
Solas and Astarion looked at each other, the undercurrent of their yearning for Arabella burning in their gazes like a raging fire.
"After you," Astarion said, offering a mock bow.
Solas' eyes darkened, and after giving the cleric and the barbarian a quick nod, tapped the portal and stepped through.
"Behave yourselves, ladies," Astarion quipped with a cheeky wink and a melodious tone, stepping through after the mage.
~O~
Arabella watched quietly as Halsin sat by Thaniel's bedside. It was clear the boy was still suffering from the Shadow Curse's grip, yet no matter what healing Halsin tried, his condition didn't improve. It didn't take long for the druid to realize that the boy was missing something vital, a part of himself still stuck in the curse's depths.
"I'd love to help you find this missing part of Thaniel, Halsin, truly," Arabella said, laying a comforting hand on his broad shoulder. "But I have to get back to the others. Whatever this relic is that Ketheric is after… I have an awful feeling about it all."
He looked up, giving her one of his reassuring grins, and put his large hand over hers. He squeezed it reassuringly before standing to meet her. "You're doing the right thing. Perhaps I can use the aid of a few of your people?"
"Of course," she said with a smile. "I'm sure Wyll and Gale wouldn't mind accompanying you. I'll speak with them before leaving."
"Thank you. For everything you did today. You must be exhausted, but I understand your desire to return to the others."
She raised an eyebrow, catching the hint. Something about his tone suggested he knew very well that she was eager to return to Solas and Astarion. With a smirk, she gave him a nod and left him with the boy.
Stepping out of the Inn, a chilly whisper brushed against her neck, dark and sinister, whispering Isobel's name like a curse. Arabella froze, the voice tempting her with a path she knew she couldn't take. The thought of gutting Isobel flashed through her mind, easy yet devastating. She shook her head, banishing the thought. No, the cost was too high, for everyone.
With a sigh, Arabella straightened, summoning all of her reserve willpower and marching over to Gale and Wyll who were sitting by an open fire. She wasn't at all surprised when they readily agreed to accompany Halsin, and felt a warmth blossom in her chest at their willingness to band together in such a way.
She gave Lae'zel the look, the one that meant "gear up, you're with me." The githyanki nodded, already moving to prepare.
Arabella sighed through a wave of exhaustion. She wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep. Her eyes closed and she imagined herself doing exactly that, and a small smile spread across her lips when she imagined Solas' arms wrapping around her, pulling her into him... and then Astarion coming up behind her, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder blade. She gasped at the image, her heart racing in anticipation to see them again.
"It better be the thought of us that's made you gasp like that, my sweet," Astarion's voice was like a cool breeze on a scorching day, soothing and invigorating all at once.
In a whirl, Arabella spun around, powered by the surge of joy at seeing them again. She flung her arms around Astarion's neck and then reached out to ensnare Solas, pulling them both into a fierce hug. The overwhelming happiness bubbled up in her chest, her darkness quieted by their mere presence.
After a brief embrace, they each took a step back, but their gazes held her captive, filled with such profound affection it was nearly too much.
Solas' hand snaked around her neck, his hand resting at the nape of her neck, his gaze filling her with a strength she was sure could dispel all the darkness surrounding them. He pressed a soft and gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there a moment before brushing his lips against her ear.
"Vhenan," he whispered, the word a tender caress, stirring a longing deep within that had her heart racing. "I've missed you."
She laughed, the sound rich and warm, as she looked at him with a glow in her gray eyes. "I haven't been away from you two but a day," she teased.
"Yes, well," Astarion chimed in, his hand reaching for hers, holding it in his grip as though it were his lifeline. "It felt much longer, my dear. Not to mention, this old man is insufferable without you around."
She chuckled, rising on her toes, and planted a soft kiss on Astarion's lips, a spark igniting between them as he deepened their kiss, his hand cradling her face tenderly.
Solas cleared his throat, his expression unreadable, yet she could see the traces of amusement in his eyes. There was something else there, though. He was jealous, she realized. She reached out for him, still in Astarion's embrace, and kissed him, slowly, languidly running her tongue along his bottom lip. She smiled against his lips when he sighed.
The sound of Lae'zel's very audible 'tsk' behind them drew their attention. "We dawdle here, and to what end? Let's move."
"You're right, Lae'zel," Arabella conceded, stepping back from the two men who held her heart captive. She gave them both a look so heated that it could set fire to wet tinder, a promise of pleasure untold lurking within. "Let's go."
~O~
When they entered the pool together, it was like tumbling through a cloud, a sensation of weightlessness enveloping them until they landed in a realm that echoed the vast, star-studded expanse of the astral plane. Their journey across the floating rock ledges, each leap more buoyant and expansive than the last, culminated in a brutal confrontation at the realm's heart.
Surrounded by the relentless assault of Balthazar's necromancy, the five of them found themselves ensnared in a fight that tested the very limits of their endurance and will.
When the harrowing battle was finally over, Shadowheart chose mercy and spared the Nightsong, who was actually Dame Ayling, Paladin and daughter of the goddess Selune.
Arabella felt a twinge of desperation in her gut, to see her companion find a sense of freedom from her darkness was like watching something she felt she would never attain. It was then she began to feel faint, her world spinning as her side screamed in pain. When she looked down, she noticed a deep wound, the skin around it black and spreading with vein-like tendrils across her exposed skin. Arabella dropped to her knees, everyone encircling her in concern, as her vision slowly grew dimmer.
Solas pulled her into his arms, Astarion looking at her with a scared yet wild look in his eye. In a flash of movement, Ayling took the drow in her arms and looked at them all with a confident smile.
"Fear not, my friends, for today we have won a great victory," she said, her voice booming in the vast ethereal space. "I will take her to the Inn and meet you there. Together, we will all face the monster responsible for all of this." At the mention of 'monster', her lip curled in disgust, and with swift grace, she soared skyward with Arabella in tow.
They all looked up and watched them with an assortment of shock and grief-stricken faces. When a portal suddenly opened, Astarion leaped through the void, driven by a terror so profound it threatened to consume him.
When he appeared at the front of the mausoleum, he stood there panting, disbelieving that anything could truly harm Arabella. To him, she was indomitable, a force of nature that couldn't be tempered by anything, yet now she was vulnerable and hurt—it was anathema to him.
As the others appeared behind him, he met Solas' gaze with a clenched jaw. Solas' eyes mirrored his own turmoil, and they all ran towards the waypoint adjacent to the mausoleum. The Inn and Arabella awaited.
A/N: Thank you for reading up to this point. This is story is really special to me for several reasons, but I truly never expected anyone else to find it interesting. However, this will be the last chapter I post on this site. There doesn't seem to be much interest in it here, so I will only be updating it on Ao3, under the same pseudonym (VakarianSyndrome: archiveofourown users/VakarianSyndrome/works). Just be sure to remove the space before the dot org.
I've also posted a new story there. It's a Modern Girl in Baldur's Gate that is lighter, silly, with a hint of angst and... well, smut, titled Collision Course. It's an Astarion/F!OC, and I'm really enjoying writing that one, too. If you'd like to check it out, that would be lovely.
Either way, thank you again, and I hope you'll come find me on the Archive. 3 you all.