Danse Macabre
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Summary
“I’d thank you if the wine was any good,” the pale elf said softly. Sensing Tav’s scrutiny, he lifted his long lashes—painted black, no doubt—and gave Tav a piercing look. Gods, but he was beautiful. If his… time… was for sale, and Tav had gone and spent the last of his gold on a drink he disliked, he’d never forgive myself.
He had never done it before. Paid for love. But he would now, if he had the means.
Not that a hundred coins could buy him an hour with a man as fine as this.
No. His plan was rather to see if he couldn’t negotiate… an exchange.
* * *
Or, Tav and Astarion met before the events of the game, fell in like at first sight, and got in trouble soon after.
Series
- Part 1 of Danse Macabre
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Summary
“Well. There’s no one here but us now.”
Tav’s hearing confirms it. That’s part of the problem: he only ever heard the voice. No footsteps, no breathing, no chafing of clothes. True, he didn’t hear Astarion approach him either, but that was because he was busy casting—and panicking. Already he wonders if his mind didn’t play a trick of him. Some… extremely vivacious remnant of his nightmare. Or a symptom of their disease.
“What’s this spell?” Astarion points at the ghostly filaments of magic on the ground.
“Fearie fire,” Tav says. Having company calmed him a bit. “It reveals invisible things,” he explains.
“Your sleeve’s on fire, darling.”
“What? Oh.” Tav shakes his hand. When that doesn’t help, he pats it down with the other, cursing under his breath. “Damn heat.”
* * *
This not-entirely-standalone story is a direct sequel to A Godsdamn Kraken, where Astarion and Tav met prior to the game, and follows up on their troubles and secrets through the first day of Act 1.
Series
- Part 2 of Danse Macabre
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Summary
“For goodness sake.” Sitting up, Astarion sways wildly. “You sound even more intoxicated than I feel. Here.” He produces a kerchief from his sleeve. “Press this to the wound.”
“Can’t. Too weak.”
“Oh, for the love of…”
Tav can barely feel the pressure, and no pain whatsoever. Sleep beckons.
“A-a-a.” Astarion slaps his cheek. “Don’t you dare go unconscious. If you die, the others will come at me with torches and pitchforks.”
“Tell them I asked for it.” Tav grins. “They’ll believe every perversion, coming from a drow.”
“And would they be wrong, my dear?”
“Not about this drow, no.”
* * *
OR, our favorite scene retold with a unique twist.
Series
- Part 3 of Danse Macabre
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Summary
Panic roils underneath Tav’s outward calm. What to do? If he outright refuses to give Astarion the cursed book, the nascent bond between them will snap. He doesn’t want that. But what Astarion asks is irrational, and to agree with it would be irrational too. Worse still, it would set a dangerous precedent. He’ll know exactly how to manipulate Tav the next time some whim takes hold of him.
Series
- Part 4 of Danse Macabre
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Summary
Astarion has had enough of this “party”. He picks up the bag with supplies he prepared earlier and makes for the woods. Passing the last torch, he pauses to take one more look at the camp, just in time for another burst of fireworks. Lit by all the colors of the rainbow, Talven stands on his own near the bonfire. Their eyes meet. Talven smiles at first, then grows serious. He points at his eyes, and then at Astarion. I see you.
Astarion’s stomach flips.
When was the last time his stomach flipped with anything but dread?
Series
- Part 5 of Danse Macabre
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Summary
“Surely you don’t expect me to apologize,” Astarion goes on after a minute. “It was only a joke, but even if it wasn’t. Having a few romps—as pleasurable as they were—hardly makes you entitled. And jealousy is such an unattractive trait.” He huffs through his nose. “I regret I asked. Nothing good ever comes from trying to be nice.”
“Nice?” Tav laughs despite the lump in his throat. “You just called me stupid and unattractive.”
“Don’t twist my words, darling. You’re not very good at it.”
* * *
Or, Tav gets insecure and Astarion reassures him the only way he knows. Act 1, post tiefling party.
Happy Valentine's! 💞
Series
- Part 6 of Danse Macabre
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Summary
“Let me see,” Astarion says.
Still hazy, Tav reluctantly offers the grip of the magical sword.
“No, not that. Your hand, my dear. And the absolute butchery you made of it with that butter-knife of yours.”
* * *
Or, Tav makes a blood sacrifice to the goddess of the dancing lights, and Astarion refuses to let it go to waste.
Series
- Part 7 of Danse Macabre
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Summary
Tav's angry stare sweeps over the shards of the broken mirror. They glitter feebly in the dirt like so many distant, cold stars. Astarion said he wants to know what Tav sees when he looks at him, but words failed. How do I show him?
Series
- Part 8 of Danse Macabre