Healing Like a Slow Burn - And_yet (2024)

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Sword Coast

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After two hundred years of torment, of cruelty and abuse most could never even fathom, Astarion stood in the sun. But even the warmth of the rays could not distract him from the new situation he found himself in. Sure, he was free from Cazador for the time being, but every second that passed by was one second closer to him becoming a horrific monster. And who was in charge of his fate? Who was leading him and the other escaped captives on this impossible quest?

Some ditsy wood elf who had rainbows shining out of their ass despite the horrors of the last few day. Her name was Tavera, though she cheerfully told everyone to call her Tav for short. A ranger with auburn-brown hair and sun kissed skin, she had somehow ended up the leader of their sad little band.

That band included the beautiful but cold Shadowheart, the most irritating and useless wizard Astarion had ever had the misfortune of meeting, and a murderous gith of all things. Then of course there was the bard. She was a moon elf, which made Astarion uncomfortable enough as it was. At first, he worried the wide-eyed, innocent-looking woman would turn to him for companionship, assuming that since they were from the same people that he would be safest. Seeing as Astarion barely remembered his life before becoming a vampire, he knew next to nothing about moon elf culture and what it meant to be one firsthand. What was most unnerving about the woman, however, was for a bard she was oddly quiet.

Her name was Calanthe, she had informed him after his near-murder attempt on poor Tav, and that was all she said for the rest of the day. There was really nothing special about her. She was pretty enough, carrying the same otherworldly looks most high elves held, with silver-white hair, pale icy-blue skin, and bright green eyes that observed and watched way too much for Astarion’s liking. More than once he caught Calanthe staring at him, her eyes piercing but unreadable.

What turned out to be the worst thing about her though was that she was functionally useless. Afterall, what good was a bard in a battle?

Wandering around in the area surrounding the crash site, their group approached an abandoned temple being protected by bandits. They were in desperate need of supplies sso this seemed as good an opportunity as any to get their hands on some. Tav observed the bandits from a distance before turning back to them, her eyes landing on Calanthe.

“I think you should hang back,” she said gently. “This could get rough. After the battle you can help us loot the bodies, yea?”

Calanthe, merely raised an eyebrow, then nodded, crossing her slim arms over her chest.

Astarion spotted Shadowheart roll her eyes before they left the bard there to do their bloody work.

The first skirmish was an awakening. Killing, actually killing without restraint, without having to hold back because of Cazador’s orders, filled Astarion with a rush of power, of control, he didn’t know he was capable of. It was intoxicating and invigorating. The fiendish smile barely ever left his lips, and for a few moments even the stabbing hunger in his gut couldn’t take that pleasure away from him. But the fresh blood seeping onto the ground quickly brought him back to his reality. He was a vampire surrounded by people who would surely drive a stake through his heart the moment they found out the truth. If he was to feed it must be in absolute secrecy. Picking up a corpse and sucking it dry in broad daylight was not the way to go about it.

Caught in the whirlwind of his own thoughts, Astarion realized too late Calanthe had rejoined them and was once again staring.

Pulling himself together, Astarion offered his most charming smile. “Careful now, darling. Would hate for you to get any blood on those delicate hands of yours.”

Calanthe’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, but she remained silent. Infuriating.

The bandits didn’t have much on them so they made their way into the decrepit temple. As they descended into the dark Astarion cast a look behind him at the sun. A stab of fear clutched his chest that perhaps he might never see it again, that down in the temple was his doom.

It ended up being a blur. Battles with living people, battles with dead people. A room of infuriating traps that set everything and everyone on fire, and a walking corpse that spoke in riddles and simply walked off like his very existence was totally normal.

Every moment Astarions’ hunger grew, his limbs weakening and a fog settling in over his thoughts. He needed to feed soon.

When they emerged from the temple the sun was setting over the ocean. The reds, oranges, and deep purples dancing over the waters struck Astarion dumb for a moment. His non-beating heart ached in his chest and wetness gathered at the corners of his eyes. In all his two hundred years, he had forgotten the pure brilliance of a sunset.

“Astarion, you coming?” Tav’s voice called. Astarion dragged his gaze away, an indulgent mask slipping over his features.

“Of course, darling.”

They picked up the bard and began to search for a safe place to bed down for the night. Astarion barely registered their movements as the pain in his stomach grew with every step. All he had to do was wait until everyone was asleep. Surely it wouldn’t take long after the events of the day.

Tav doled out the supplies with efficiency, and Astarion found himself with his very own tent. Everyone else in the group, even the annoying wizard, set their own tents up silently. Astarion tried to watch the one nearest to him, the gith, out of the corner of his eye to see how she did it.

It was a clumsy effort but Astarion was too proud to ask for help, and no one offered. At least, not at first.

“Having trouble?” Tav came up behind him, a kind smile on her face. “I imagine the upper class of Baldur’s Gate hasn’t had need to set up a tent before.”

An easy smile spread on Astarion’s face, his body adjusting automatically into a relaxed yet haughty pose.

“Of course not. But is this really where we are resting for the night?”

“It’s no feather bed, but it will do.” Tav squatted down to adjust one of the poles on the tent.

“I suppose. I’m not sure what I expected, really. This is all a little new. The night usually means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is…a little novel.

“Give it a try. We’ll need to be fresh for tomorrow.”

Astarion let out a little breathy chuckle. “I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been a lot. I need some time to think things through, to process this.” An idea popped into his mind, an idea that would make sneaking off to hunt much easier. “You sleep, I’ll keep watch.”

Tav stood up and shot him a grateful smile.

“Thank you, I’ll sleep better for that.”

Approval spread through his chest, and Astarion bowed slightly.

“The pleasure is all mine. Sweet dreams.”

Tav waved a hand and walked off to her own tent. Astarion faced his, pretending to examine Tav’s work, but in reality he was hiding a smug smirk.

Tav was an idiot. Trusting a stranger she just met to keep watch? He wasn’t sure what that meant for this group’s survival quite yet, but it did make keeping his secret hidden all the simpler. Who knew, perhaps there was more he could get out of this relationship than he first guessed.

Sliding into his tent, a slight thought of appreciation for how sturdy it now stood, Astarion didn’t notice the eyes watching him from across the clearing.

~~

That elf was clearly a vampire, and Calanthe mourned that her fate was now tied to a group of people who were too oblivious to realize it. Calanthe was a moon-elf and she knew her people. They didn’t have red eyes or giant fangs. And they certainly didn’t sneak out of their tent in the middle of the night and come back spelling of dirt and blood.

They were all fools, so absorbed in themselves they failed to see what was right in front of them. Calanthe hid in her tent, unable to sleep, resisting the urge to claw at her own skull until she broke through and pulled the tadpole out.

Perhaps she was the biggest fool of the group. She’d just started to believe that she was free, that she was safe, that the horrors of being under the control of another and utterly powerless was behind her. Whatever this wretched creature in her head was doing, it had wiped away her powers, leaving her to play along as the group’s useless bard.

Tavera, the sweet and overly helpful wood elf, had taken one look at Calanthe clutching her flute and decided that Calanthe was useless. It was not an assumption that Calanthe was willing to contradict. Not yet, not until she knew that these people could be trusted.

So far it wasn’t going well. Tav seemed dangerously naïve, Shadowheart was keeping her own secrets and stank of darkness, Lae’Zel was a radical follower of gith doctrine and Gale, well, his aura radiated danger.

But this vampire, Astarion, was taking the cake. So, she would watch, and she would wait. While her companions protected the group from outside, she would protect them from the threats within.

Chapter 2: Are All Druids This Shady?

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It was the second day of their acquaintance and Tav was already getting on Astarion’s nerves. Turned out the damn elf was a bleeding-heart type who never met a sad face she didn’t want to help. This became extremely apparent when they found themselves in a literal den of needy, sad, insufferable teiflings. At first it was fun. They got to kill some goblins, met an actual trader who was able to provide them with quality goods, and got a tip about a healer who might help them, but it went downhill fast.

The refugees were everywhere you looked, desperate for a hero to save them. It made Astarion’s stomach churn. Clearly the catastrophe of losing their home hadn’t taught the teiflings the truth of life: there was no hero coming to save you, and the only person you could rely on was yourself. It was a lesson Astarion learned long ago, after decades of torture, of screaming out to the gods or anyone who would listen, anyone at all to come save him. But no one ever did, why should the teiflings get any different?

At least the others seemed to share his mood. Shadowheart scowled the entire way through the grove while Lae’zel openly voiced her distaste for their apparent charity. Gale had elected to stay at camp that day to protect their belongings, so instead the bard accompanied them. It was difficult to say how she felt about Tav stopping to talk to every person they met, asking how they could help, and wasting what little precious time they had. What did it matter if the druids were going to kick the teiflings out and lock down their grove forever. It was not their problem.

It only worsened when they picked up a devastatingly handsome, yet infuriatingly jovial and heroic stray named Wyll who came with yet another task Tav promised them to. Did Astarion want to hunt down a devil escaped from the hells? No. But apparently his feelings didn’t matter on the issue. They never did.

The group made their way deeper into the grove, encountering some truly delightful children at the beginning of their lives as career criminals, a rather strange ox that Tav stared at for a full five minutes, and a dashing blacksmith who would have been deeply attractive if not for his hopeful earnestness.

They eventually reached what seemed to be the center of the grove and were met with yelling and a druid ready to maul them all to death in his bear shape. Tavera, of course, intervened, which was a pity. Astarion was looking forward to seeing a high and mighty druid asshole slaughter innocent teiflings. After talking to said teiflings, they learned their daughter had tried to steal some sacred idol and was being held by the druids in their sanctuary.

Tav promised to help and they made their way past the circle of chanting druids preparing for the ritual that would doom all the teiflings and through a large stone door. The passage led underground and they came upon a commotion in the belly of the cave. The teifling girl stood still next to what might have been an altar, terror written all over her face, as two druids argued. One must have been the leader, but Astarion wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were locked on the teifling girl’s face. The horror, the fear, the screams. Clawing against his skin and begging him to let them go. Tiny little hearts fluttering in their chests. Crying as he left them to Cazardor…

“You heard her, let the child go,” a menacing voice pulled Astarion back into the present. Blinking, he looked to see who had spoken and was shocked to see it was the bard.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Tav, Astarion couldn’t see her facial expression, but it was enough to make the red-headed druid take a step back.

“You do not give orders here,” the woman spat. “An outsider does not determine the actions of druids!”

“You call yourself a druid,” Calathane’s voice vibrated with anger, “but you would uphold a mere object over a life? The life of a child? You disgrace the Oak Father’s name.”

Astarion shared a slightly startled look with Shadowheart. Who knew the little bard had it in her?

“Fine,” the druid leader spat, “she can go. Teala, to me.”

For the first time, Astarion noticed the massive serpent slithering away from the girl, and the child took off in from them and up to the doors. sh*t, he really needed to pay more attention. The past was the past, there was nothing he could do about it. But what he could do was not get himself killed in the present.

After a tense conversation with the woman, Khaga was her name Astarion learned, Tav led them past the assembled druids and into a room further back to finally speak with the healer. Nettie. She was a dwarf and seemed sympathetic to their cause and had apparently already been studying the tadpole phenomenon.

When Nettie held out “the cure”, Astarion stiffened. It certainly didn’t look like any cure he’d seen before Tav stared at the thorned branch, then looked back to Nettie.

“What is it?”

“It’s a poison, but don’t worry, it will only make you temporarily sick. It will kill the tadpole.”

The bard, who was standing next to Astarion, shook her head in apparent disbelief. Astarion frowned, then examined the branch closer. Breathing deeply, the sickening, sharp scent of it filled his nostrils.

“By the gods, that’s wyvern poison!” He would know it anywhere. Back in the early days, his master liked to experiment on his spawn with poisons, seeing how much they could endure. The answer was a lot, but Astarion would never forget the unfathomable pain that tore through his body with only one drop of wyvern poison. It he had been mortal, if he had been himself, he would have died. Wyvern poison was completely lethal.

“You were going to kill me?” Tav’s hand went to the long knife at her hip. Nettie merely sighed with exasperation.

“Of course I was! You are running on borrowed time. Any moment you could turn into a mindflayer and become a threat to everyone around you. There is no cure. Do you hear me? You are going to die, one way or another.”

The words settled on Astarion like a massive weight pinning him to the floor. No cure. They were all going to die. They all knew it, deep within even as they struggled to find survival, but to hear it so bluntly stated was still a blow.

A warmth spread against his side. Startled, Astarion looked down and saw the bard looking paler than usual, brushing up against him as she shut her eyes.

It was an instinctual reaction, but Astarion lurched back.

“Don’t touch me,” he snapped. The bard’s eyes flashed open.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Just a lot to take in.”

“This healer is wrong,” Lea’zel sneered. “My people have the cure. Enough wasting time with this grove. We should be searching for the nearest creche if we wish to be purified.”

“Wait,” Nettie called out, then began to say something about a man named Halsin. He was apparently the true leader of the grove, was a healer himself, and had been extensively studying the tadpoles. He might be able to help them, but the problem was he had gone missing. Of course.

“sh*t,” the bard muttered.

They quickly left after that, not bothering to speak to any of the other druids on the way out. The child they’d saved, Arabella, was outside waiting for them along with her parents. Astarion didn’t bother to hide his agitation at yet another delay.

Finally, finally they left the grove and made camp. It was a nice little spot on the shore of a lake, but Astarion barely noticed. He angrily threw his tent together. Once again, it was a mess, and Tav made her way over to help.

“You seem agitated tonight. Is everything alright?” She didn’t sound bothered, which only stoked Astarion’s anger higher.

“Well, darling, if you must know I am having trouble figuring out how exactly we are going to prioritize removing these tadpoles from our heads and not becoming mindflayers when we’ve promised our services to every teifling on the word coast!”

Astarion bit back a flinch. He hadn’t meant to shout, but his nerves were getting the best of him.

Tav pursed her lips. “We didn’t make that many promises…”

“You made three promises for us to follow up on,” the bard cut in. Out of her jacket she pulled out a small notebook and opened it.

“You’ve been keeping a list?” Tav asked, astounded.

“I’ve found on my travels over the years that writing things down helps keep everything organized,” the bard shrugged before continuing. “You promised Wyll we would help him hunt down his demon, Zevlor that we would deal with Khaga somehow, and Nettie that we would rescue Halsin. As an aside, you told that old woman we would visit her home to follow up on a potential cure, but that is more for our benefit for hers.”

Everyone else in the camp had come to gather around them now and was listening intently.

“I would never prioritize my personal quest over the wellbeing of the group. If we stumble upon the monster I seek, so be it, but I agree it is not out highest priority.” Wyll, so dashing and noble and handsome. It annoyed Astarion greatly. Or turned him on. He wasn’t quite sure.

Tav shifted her weight, looking a bit uncomfortable.

“Yes, I see your point. We will seek a way to save the druid Halsin first. He seems our best bet. We don’t even know if there is a creche in the area.”

Lae’ze let out an annoyed noise but did not further comment.

The bard snapped her notebook shut and tucked it away. As their companions settled back towards their tents, she stepped towards Astarion. He eyed her wearily.

“I just wanted to apologize again,” she began, meeting his eyes unblinkingly, “for accidentally touching you earlier. I was overwhelmed for a moment and lost my awareness. It was foolish of me and won’t happen again.”

Astarion knew even if their companions had left, they could still hear the conversation. The camp wasn’t that big.

“Oh, that was nothing,” he brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “Just startled me is all. We were in a den with such ruthless druids after all.”

The words sounded calm and confident, but inside Astarion’s stomach was rolling over. She was apologizing for touching him? No one ever did that. No one accidentally brushed up against him. It didn’t make sense. Surely the bard was lying. It was a trick to get closer to him, or to make him look weak in front of the others.

Astarion straightened to his full height, staring down at the bard with a hint of menace. He would not be made a fool of. Whatever game she was playing, he would not let her win.

The bard finally blinked, looking up at him.

“You are awfully tall for an elf,” she commented, which completely took the wind out of Astarion’s bravado.

“I- what?”

“Are you sure you’re pure high elf? Perhaps there’s a human or something in your recent ancestry.”

“A human?” Astarion scoffed. “Absolutely not. I am a pure high elf.”

The bard shrugged.

“Perhaps. Maybe I will meet your family at this winter’s solstice and we can get the bottom of it.”

Now Astarion felt faint.

“Why do you think you would meet my family at solstice?”

The bard looked surprised.

“It’s The Illunathros this winter. Surely you remember?”

Astarion’s mind went blank. This is what he’d feared. This was something to do with moon elf culture, and he had no idea what it was.

“What is that?” Shadowhear asked from her tent, which was a few feet away to Astarion’s left.

“It’s a very sacred night for moon elves,” the bard explained to her, “when the full moon coincides with the winter solstice. Moon elves from across the realm gather together to bask in the moon’s light and give thanks to our goddess.”

Shadowheart’s lip curled in distaste. “So you are a follower of Selune then?”

The bard tilted her head.

“No, not all. I follow Sehanine Moonbow, the goddess of the moon in the elvish pantheon.” The bard paused, giving Shadowheart a curious look. “You are half-elf, are you not? This isn’t exactly hidden knowledge. Strange that your amnesia would have taken this information from you yet not anything else about the religions of our world.”

Shadowheart looked flustered.

“Well, who knows what is hidden in my memories.”

“Indeed.” The bard turned back to Astarion. “So, will your family be there?”

“No, absolutely not,” Astarion said quickly. “We are not the religious sorts and have never celebrated such things.”

“I see. Well goodnight.” The bard did not wait for him to respond and returned to her tent.

Astarion stared after her, every inch of his body on high alert. He didn’t like this elf. Not one bit.

~~

Calanthe waited until everyone was asleep and Astarion had gone out to hunt before sneaking out of the camp. She did feel bad about touching the vampire earlier, and not just because it was an outrageously stupid slip up on her part. The man had seemed so upset by it. It intrigued her, but for now Calanthe needed to prepare.

The group may be focusing on finding a cure for their tadpoles, but she could not let another day go by where that monster of a druid was in charge of such vulnerable people. No, Kagha’s rule ended tonight.

Chapter 3: Picking up Strays

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“What is that?” Tav pointed to the large dead boar in the middle of the road ahead of them. Astarion followed behind the group as they trotted up to the corpse, trying not to look too suspicious. He had hoped they wouldn’t come this way, but it was stupid of him to even think that. This was the main road, of course they were going to follow it.

“Who cares about some pig? It’s dead. Let’s go.” His companions ignored him.

Tav got up close to the animal, squatting down to examine it. With a sigh, Astarion sidled up to her.

“The pig is dead, my friend,” he repeated, “staring at it won’t bring it back. Come on, we’ll never fix these brain worms if we stop and gawk at every piece of carrion you find.” He gestured to his head to enhance the words.

Tav glanced at him then leaned closer, right to the puncture wounds on the beast’s neck.

“And?” Astarion prodded, forcing himself to sound bored. “Is it dead enough for you?”

Tav stood up and faced him.

“These puncture wounds are strange. Do you recognize them?”

Damn.

“I-“ Astarion cut himself off. Perhaps he could get of this with a piece of the truth. “It’s been drained of blood with wounds in its neck. It’s been killed by a vampire. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to worry you. They are ferocious creatures. But don’t worry, I’ll keep watch tonight. We won’t have to worry about nocturnal visitors. Now please, let’s go.”

Tav nodded and stepped around the board before letting out a groan.

“For f*ck’s sake, that asshole from the gate is over there,” she complained. Astarion remained very conscious of the few companions still looking at the boar. “I do not want to deal with him today.”

“Why would the vampire leave it in the middle of the road for anyone to find, I wonder,” Wyll mused out loud.

“Perhaps they were not strong enough to move the creature after they killed it,” the bard mused.

Astarion resisted the urge to glare at her while Wyll chuckled. Her comment was deeply insulting, so what if it was true?

As Tav led them down a small path to the right of the bridge, Astarion once again became lost in thought. He hadn’t always been this weak, but it seemed the tadpoles had drained him of his vampiric strength. One thing was for sure, he would never regain it drinking only the blood of animals. As delightful as it was to drink from creatures such as that boar, to be able to gulp down mouthfuls of blood and feel full for once in his life even if It didn’t last very long was a revelation. But after two days Astarion was beginning to realize it wasn’t enough. He needed the blood of a thinking creature in order to be healthy. If he didn’t get it soon, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

They quickly came across two people mourning their dead brother, a “true soul”. When their tadpoles all reacted, the man and woman believed them to be whatever a true soul was, and with some prodding from Tav they explained. It was a bunch of nonsense about some god no one had ever heard of called The Absolute, and it was clear that these idiots before them were religious fanatics. Astarion didn’t care for them, but thankfully Tav made the mistake of telling them they were from the natuliod crash and the two attacked. Before the fanatics could even draw their weapons all the way, Tav drew her long dagger and slashed the man’s throat, before twirling and stabbing the woman in the gut. They both fell, Tav withdrawing her blade and looking down at them with disgust.

“Well done,” Shadowheart said, but Tav didn’t respond. Her eyes were locked intently on the body of the fallen brother. Astarion felt it too. Something was calling to them. Tav held out her hand, and the body jerked before another tadpole slithered out from the corpse’ eye and floated into the air before Tav.

No one spoke as she hesitantly reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle, storing the tadpole inside.

“It might be useful,” she said defensively, “for a healer to examine it for research.”

No one questioned her, though there was more than a few disapproving faces reflecting back. Astarion, however, was fascinated. What he’d felt from that new tadpole was power, pure power. Power he desperately wanted.

Continuing down the path they eventually crossed the large stream and found another dead body. This one came with a very much alive dog.

Tav immediately dropped to her knees and held out her arms, talking to the dog with her ability to peak to animals. It became quickly obvious that she was trying to keep the damn thing, but after a few moments she nodded sadly and stood up.

“Whenever you are ready, come find our camp.”

The dog lowered its head and laid down next to it’s master’s body.

“We are adopting strays now?” Lae’zel complained.

“I kept all of you, didn’t I?” Tav said lightly, and the bard chuckled. Even Shadowheart looked excited, but Astarion agreed with Lae’zel. Another mouth to feed, and it was a dog. He much preferred cats if he had to pick an animal. Dogs were just so needy and slobbery.

And because their group wasn’t large enough and had enough personal problems to deal with, they managed to stumble upon Wyll’s devil by the stream’s waters. Except, she wasn’t a devil. She was a teifling. An enormous, scared, but undeniably attractive teifling. Oh yes, she also appeared to be on fire.

Wyll immediately jumped into combat, but Tav stepped between them. After a tense squabble where they discovered the teifling, Karlach, was in fact no monster but a merely unfortunate woman whose master had sold her off to the Blood Wars, Wyll backed down and they found themselves with a new tadpoled companion.

“I like her,” Shadowheart commented. “She looks like she could throw me over her shoulder and carry me to safety, should the need arise.”

Astarion couldn’t disagree, but the addition of the dog and the teifling was a lot at once. Especially since this teifling seemed to have the never ending energy of a toddler. She led them up a hill to an old toll house where they encountered a bunch of paladins. The paladins claimed innocence, Karlach said they were enemies.

Either way, Astarion really didn’t care. As far as he was concerned the only good paladin was a dead paladin. They were awfully annoying creatures with those moral codes of theirs. It turned out Karlach had the truth of it, and soon enough Astarion got his wish. Quickly finding the high ground by climbing up a ladder to the second floor balcony, Astarion reigned arrows down on the hellspawn. The sh*ts were tough. Spells were flying, weapons clashing, and in the midst of the chaos…

Was that a flute?

Astarion spotted the source immediately.

The bard, Calanthe, was in the corner of the room playing her flute. Astarion was struck dumb with shock for a moment before he realized what she was doing. With every note she emitted from the instrument, the Weave twisted and danced along. In response, their enemies all turned from their battles towards her, almost in a trance, and charged forward. She was using bard magic to make the hellspawn focus on her rather than their companions.

Karlarch and Lae’zel, and Tav didn’t miss a beat, driving their weapons into the backs of their opponents. Eldritch blasts erupted from Wyll’s hands and Gale through in his own magic. Shadowheart took the opportunity to heal them all, but while her spell sealed up their cuts and bruises, Astarion let out a scream, “Sanctuary on the bard, now!”

But it was too late. While Calanthe continued to play one of the hellspawn was able to reach her, raising their sword over her head.

“Calanthe!” Astarion roared, notching an arrow and letting it fly. It pierced through the man’s neck, emerging the other side. The song broke as Calanthe stopped playing and shoved the man back from her. He fell to the ground, grasping at his throat as it gurgled blood. Lae’zel walked over and stomped the man’s head, and it exploded in blood and gore.

“Are you okay?” Tav rushed forward, grabbing Calanthe’s shoulders and looking her over. “What were you thinking?”

Calanthe didn’t answer. Instead, she gazed up at Astarion, eyes wide wide. Astarion looked back, his jaw clenched. Before anyone could move or say anything else, Karlach burst into flames.

Chapter 4: The Bard is Really Pissing Astarion Off

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Standing outside the toll house watch Karlach scream and laugh madly as he set the entire thing on fire was a surreal experience. No one really seemed to know what to say, so they merely watched in silence, all of them nursing their wounds.

Despite the bard’s actions, it seemed no one had made it out without a beating. Gale was sporting what looked to be a broken nose, Wyll had several bleeding cuts on his arms…the list went on. But speaking of the bard…

“What were you thinking?” Tav finally rounded on Calanthe. “You could have gotten yourself killed with that stunt!”

The bard merely blinked at her. She had a long gash across her forehead that Astarion couldn’t remember when she had gotten it.

“I was thinking that you all needed help. Should I have run away like a coward and left you all to continue to struggle on with that fight?”

“We were not struggling,” Gale said indignantly, though his voice was comically muffled as he was clasping his bleeding nose.

“Yes, you were,” The bard snapped back. “The tadpoles have taken our powers, made us all weaker. This was our first real time fighting all together, and our opponents were much more prepared than we were. Besides, it worked, did it not? So what is the issue?”

“If Astarion hadn’t acted so quickly, you would be dead.” Tav had a stubborn set to her shoulders as she glared at the bard. “That is the issue.”

Calanthe’s eyes drifted to Astarion, and he resisted the urge to look away.

“I do owe you my thanks.” Her voice was much softer than when she spoke to Tav. “Your warning and actions saved me a great deal of pain.”

Astarion barely stopped himself from gaping dumbly at her. What was her game?

“Yes well,” Astarion recovered, “we need someone to look after camp while we are out doing the real work.”

Tav’s expression fell at Atarion’s cruel words. She looked…disappointed. Astarion’s gut twisted uncomfortably at that realization, which was annoying. What should he care what Tav thought of him?

“We also would be devastated if we lost you,” Tav added.

The bard shrugged.

“You would be fine. We barely know each other.”

Tav opened her mouth to argue this point, but thankfully Karlach came trotting over, some sanity restored in her eyes.

“Come on, we need to regroup and recover,” Shadowheart said. “I don’t have the energy left to heal everyone.”

They all limped back to camp. Astarion stopped breathing as the scent of all their fresh dripping blood was getting to him. He could almost imagine the taste of it on his tongue, the hot liquid sliding down his throat.

But that would get him killed so he continued to resist.

Back at camp everyone collapsed in their tents. After drinking a healing potion Gale managed to pull together a miserable-looking dinner for everyone. Karlach set up her tent next to the bard’s which was directly in front of Astarion’s. He watched from a distance as the bard plopped herself down next to Karlach and engaged her in a lively conversation. Karlach seemed to thrive under the attention and soon the mood of camp shifted as the teifling’s bright personality and energy lifted all their spirits.

It was extremely annoying.

This woman was betrayed by her master and sold to the hells. Forced to fight a war that wasn’t her for ten years. Had her heart ripped out and replaced with some mechanical monstrosity. How on earth could she be so happy? Was she simple minded? Astarion wasn’t sure, but it made him angry.

Eventually everyone made their ways to their bedrolls to sleep. Quiet fell…temporarily.

Astarion lurched up from his bedroll as a portal ripped open in the middle of camp. His dagger was in his hand in seconds as he crouched in the shadows of his tent.

A devil appeared in the center of camp, calling out for Wyll.

Hells no.

Astarion was not getting involved in this.

So instead he watched silently from a distance as the drama unfolded. Apparently dear heroic Wyll had an actual devil for a patron. Not just any devil either, but one of Zariel’s inner circle. It was her orders that drove Wyll to hunt Karlach in the first place, and Wyll’s disobedience had consequences in the form of two massive horns sprouting from his skull and curling backwards like a ram.

“f*cking hells,” a voice muttered to his left, and Astarion jumped.

While he had been engrossed in the spectacle before him, the bard and Shadowheart had crept over to watch by his side. It was the hunger dulling his senses, he was sure of it. The two women crouched next to him, eyes wide and wary.

“Can we just go one day without some new horror being dropped at our feet?” Shadowheart said angrily.

“Apparently not.” The bard stood up. “Hopefully this is the last of it for today.”

It wasn’t.

Soon after everyone settled down again, the fever started. Astarion was out hunting when it hit, and within moments he was flat on his back in the forrest, unable to move from the dizziness and nausea.

So, this is how it happened, he thought. They had failed. Now he would be a mindflayer, his soul devoured and a monster taking his body for it’s own. They were fools to hope, to believe it would end any other way.

When Astarion next opened his eyes, he was….in the sky? No, wait…the astral realm? A man was waiting there for him. A beautiful man with kind eyes who promised Astarion protection and safety. The weak, miserable part of Astarion that desperately wanted to live gave in to this mysterious visitor’s words. But what really stoked his interest was the promise of power. All he had to do was consumed more tadpoles when the opportunity presented itself.

As repulsed as Astarion was by the idea, having more power, any power, was far too appealing to ignore.

When he awoke, still flat on his back in the forest, it was to discover a figure standing over him.

“Bloody hells!” Astarion jumped to his feet, ready to attack.

The bard rolled her eyes.

“Calm down, it’s just me. I’d come to find where you wandered off to.”

Astarion let out a breath, sure that if his heart still beat it would be racing in his chest right now. Looking around, he realized it was still dark, though just barely. In the distance through the trees the first light of dawn was appearing.

“I had a fever,” Astarion said quickly. “I thought I was changing, so I ran out here.”

The bard nodded in understanding. “Yes, I felt the same.”

“Then I had a strange dream,” Astarion continued, needing to get the words out, needing someone to hear what had happened to him. “There was a visitor promising me protection, and all sorts of delicious powers from the parasites in our heads.” Atarion paused, then look at the bard’s face properly. She still looked ill, frankly, and was staring at him with worry. “Given our shared affliction, I assume you had a similar dream…?”

The bard nodded.

“I did.”

Astarion’s mind spun, processing this information along with everything the dream visitor had told him.

“Excellent,” he breathed. “Now we can start to see what these tadpoles can do for us.”

“You trust this strange person? Just like that? They invaded our minds without our knowledge and promised us power if we allow more of the creatures we are desperate to be rid of inside our bodies. Are you mad?”

Anger coursed through Astarion. “Is there a reason you are such an utter drip? I mean, do you have some sort of condition? Honestly, it’s like you hate good news.” Astarion glared down at her. “Do you actually want something, or are you here to spoil my fun?”

“I’m here because I was worried about you,” Calanthe spit at him. “Forgive me, it is not a mistake I will make again.”

He turned on her heel and walked away. Astarion wanted to dramatically storm off himself, but he had nowhere else to go so he stomped along behind her. When they reached camp, Tav was relieved to see them.

Everyone was talking about the dream visitor. Mostly everyone seemed to agree with the bard that they should be cautious in trusting the stranger, and a few flat out refused to even entertain the idea of using the tadpole powers. Fine, more for him.

But there was one point that was more important than the others, something everyone agreed on.

“It seems that whoever they are, this person is protecting us from turning into mind flayers. As long as they are our allies, we don’t have to worry about transforming,” Tav mused.

Astarion didn’t bother to hide his groan.

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to result in us agreeing to participate in even more pointless rescue missions? Perhaps next we will find some old woman’s cat stuck up a tree, or maybe spend three days hunting down a lost family heirloom!”

“The pale one is right,” Lae’zel said. “More time at our disposal does not mean we can lose track of our mission.”

Tav nodded like she agreed, but Astarion suspected it was a ruse.

They decided to go back to the grove to buy some fresh supplies, hopefully health potions. Wyll immediately volunteered to stay at camp, and the bard decided on her own to stay with him.

Astarion didn’t bother to mask his relief, waving at her over his shoulder with a wink as he left camp. The bard merely rolled her eyes in return.

“What is it with you and Calanthe?” Tav asked when they were back on the trail.

Astarion let out a short laugh.

“I don’t like how she sits around and watches and judges all of us like she is oh, so perfect. What has just done for the group that gives her the right?”

Tav chuckled, seemingly unbothered by his tone.

“Well she guards the camp, gathers herbs and brews potions for us all, she created that distraction in the fight yesterday…”

“All right, I get it,” Astarion cut her off.

“Calanthe is the best,” Karlach chimed in unprompted. “She listened to me talk all night and was totally listening instead of just pretending. I could tell.”

“Well that’s very nice and all, but I wouldn’t be surprised to wake up in the middle of the night to find her trying to stab me with that blasted flute of hers.”

“Hm,” Tav walked alongside him calmly, her eyes alight as she overlooked their surroundings. “We don’t all have to like each other, but we do need to trust each other. Calanthe is looking out for us all the best she can. But if you are worried, I promise I will keep an eye on her and make sure she leaves you alone. Deal?”

“I – well, alright.”

Astarion strode along next to Tav the rest of the way to the grove, his mind spinning. Tav was going to protect him? From someone who merely annoyed him? She trotted along ahead of him, taking Gale by the arm and engaging him in conversation. Sure, she was naïve, but Tav was strong, and tough. She knew how to handle herself in a fight and was obviously loyal. Perhaps he was looking at her bleeding heart all wrong. Perhaps it could be used to his advantage. All he had to do was what he’d merely done a thousand times before.

Make the ranger fall for him. Seduce her, manipulate her feelings so that she would never betray him.

But could she be pushed that far? What about when she found out what he really was?

As they entered through the hidden entrance to the grove, they were immediately met by Zevlor.

“You’ve returned! Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t go inside.”

“What? Why?” Tav looked alarm.

“Khaga was killed two nights past. There are mutterings that you and your group were involved.”

Despite the warning, Tav led them down into the sanctuary. The druids eyed them with suspicion while the teiflings looked on with adoration. Astarion loved a good murder as much as the next criminal, but even he was not prepared for what awaited them down in the caves.

“We haven’t been able to get her down…”

Khaga’s body hung from the wall by her hands, which had been nailed into the stone. Her throat was slit and blood was gathered on her armor and in a puddle on the ground. It was a shocking sight, made all the more by the bodies that hung next to Khaga.

“Who are they?” Shadowheart asked.

“We weren’t sure at first, but investigation has shown that they are dark druids. They’ve been hiding here in plain sight this entire time.” The druid spat bitterly. “Khaga betrayed us. Someone found out and did not show mercy…” The druid faced Tav, his eyes boring into hers. “Tell me honestly. Did you or any of your companions do this?”

“No,” Tav said firmly. “We were not even here that night. How would we have snuck in past the guards? I swear to you, myself and mine had nothing to do with this.”

Chapter 5: Tav's Blood, Calanthe's Knife

Chapter Text

The next few days were a blur. There was an abandoned village with trolls and a gnome strapped to a windmill, a knoll pack who had some men trapped in a cave, the list went on and on. No matter where they turned they seemed to find some crisis to solve. For some, like Astarion, it was exhausting. He grew more and more weary with every passing hour. For others, like Tav and Wyll, it seemed to energize them, every good deed a pick-me-up to distract them from the fact they had made zero progress on the one quest that actually mattered.

Well, perhaps not zero. They discovered how to use their illithid powers, and much to Astarion’s delight Tav had not shied away from it. She used them to control their enemies: the fool goblins who had sworn their lives to this Absolute.

Then there was the matter of the devil, Raphael. His words were slicked with lies and double meaning, oozing with a sickly charm that promised their doom. But desperate as they were, they had to consider all their options. Once again most of the group was firmly against the devil’s help, but Astarion was worried that they may be approaching a time where they would not have a choice anymore.

One good thing, Astarion supposed, was that he seemed to be finding his way in this group. He was their rogue. Opening locks, detecting danger before anyone else, and using his growing prowess with a blade and bow to wield lethal damage in battle. Sure, he didn’t get as much credit as Lae’zel or Karlach for hammering enemies to death with their strength and brutal efficiency, but he was making himself needed, a necessary part of their band that couldn’t be easily cast aside.

At least, he hoped that was the case.

Tav seemed to like him more and more each day as well. Often she chose to walk along side him while they traveled, laughing at his quips and listening to his stories. He danced around the truth of his past, referring only to Cazador as his cruel former master. Just as she had with all their other companions, Tav asked questions but did not push further if he showed discomfort or did not want to talk about it further.

She was falling into his trap, with every smile, every look his way. It delighted Astarion as much as it made him a little queasy. But he had long ago learned to ignore those feelings to focus on what needed to be done.

“We are going to have to go into the swamp,” Tav mused as they looked over the sparkling land below the cliff they stood on. “That old woman who might be able to help us lives down there.”

“Are we really sure it is worth the trouble?” Shadowheart asked.

“We ought to explore all our options, you never know what is going to be the thing that will save your life.” Gale sounded confident, but he looked like sh*t. His posture sagged and he had bags under his eyes. Astarion kept an eye on him from a distance, and he was hardly the only one who noticed.

“Are you ill, Gale? In need of some healing?” Shadowheart offered him.

“Ah, no. Well, yes, but it’s nothing your brand of magic can help me with.”

Shadowheart arched an eyebrow.

Gale sighed, then began to explain what exactly was going on. Well, not exactly. There was a great deal of information he left out, insisting they would just have to trust him. If Gale didn’t consume a magical item, bad things would happen. Vague as it was, the utter seriousness in his eyes convinced Tav to go along with it. She offered him some magical boots they’d found that didn’t actually do anything useful, and the group watched as Gale pressed them to his chest and seemingly inhaled them into his body.

When they returned to camp, the atmosphere was tense. The bard greeted them all, offering fresh potions she brewed while they were gone. Astarion was the last in line to reach her, and when everyone else dispersed she frowned.

“Did something happen? Why is everyone acting so strange?”

“As opposed to any other day when they are completely normal and not at all a bunch of weirdos?”

The bard snorted. “True, but still.”

Astarion summarized Gale’s affliction, and the bard spat out a curse.

“I knew there was something off about him.”

“Indeed,” Astarion agreed. “I’ve met plenty of people hungry for power, but Gale takes it a bit too literally for my liking. I wonder how he does it. Why he does it.” Astarion paused. “Hm. I’m sure all will be revealed in time, but I don’t like it. A waste of perfectly good treasure.”

The bard grunted her agreement. “Speaking of treasure, bring me anything good?”

Astarion pulled out a pouch he kept any useful herbs he spotted throughout the day and handed it over. The bard quickly sorted through them, her eyes alight. Herbs were hardly what Astarion would count as treasure, but to each their own he supposed.

The two of them had come to a tentative peace, facilitated by Tav. She gave him poisons and potions to use during the day, and he brought her trinkets and resources at night. It was working out, and Astarion was perfectly content to leave it at that.

Annoyingly, that night is seemed everyone wanted to stay up later than usual, gathering in small groups and whispering to each other about Gale. Astarion grumpily went into his tent, decided to trance for a bit and hope that everyone else would be asleep when he roused.

Later in the woods, Astarion walked along a dark path. The trees seemed particularly sinister tonight, an eerie fog hanging onto the branches. There was a sense of foreboding in the air. Someone was watching him, Astarion could feel it.

“Hello, anyone there?”

“First, though shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.” The voice rang out through the forest, cold, dark, and full of malice.

Astarion felt his body go even colder than before, fear stabbing into his chest. He immediately fell into survival mode.

“Master, I was just coming to see you!”

“Second, though shall obey me in all things,” Cazador’s voice continued as if Astarion hadn’t spoken.

“Abolutely,” Astarion fell into a half bow, his hands gesturing widely. “It’s just that I was kidnapped by a tentacle faced-“

Cazador cut him off.

“Third, thou shall not leave my side unless directed.”

Astarion’s gut turned, fear contorting his insides, but he forced himself to keep smiling, just as he had always done.

“Fourth, that shall know that thou art mine.”

In a whip of red light, Cazador finally appeared in front of him, his hand raised and eyes burning red. Astarion stumbled back.

“Please, you have to forgive me,” Astarion cried out, desperate.

“Pathetic, as always,” Cazador sneered. “But at least you know your place.” Astarion bowed his head, unable to meet his master’s eyes. “You are mine, forever.”

Astarion’ vision went dark for a moment before he leapt so his feet, looking around wildly. Cazador, his master. He needed to return to him quickly or Cazador would flay him, as he’d done so many times before. What would he say when he learned Astarion could walk in the sunlight?

Slowly, awareness returned to Astarion. He was at camp, surrounded by his companions, miles from Cazador’s reach. The dog, Scratch, snored from where he slept next to the fire. A gentle breeze rustled the tent flaps all around them. The stars twinkled overhead.

Astarion took a deep, calming breath, thinking. If he could walk in sunlight and Cazador could not, was it possible that he could be free of Cazador’s commands entirely?

Thou shall not drink the blood of drinking creatures.

Astarion’s gaze fell on Tav, who was trancing near the dog under the open sky. Her warm skin was flushed in the light of the fire. So soft, so alive.

He needed to know. He had to know if he was still controlled by Cazador’s rules.

If he had been thinking clearly, not so hungry and full of fear from his nightmare, Astarion might have realized what an utterly stupid idea this was, but as it was he could only see one thing: Tav’s pulsing vein in her neck.

He crept forward, each step completely silent. He was so close. Surely if he did it right, she wouldn’t even wake. This was just a test, she wouldn’t die. Kneeling down, opening his jaw, Astarion could almost taste her blood already. Just one bite…

A body slammed into Astarion’s side, sending him toppling to the ground. A knife appeared at his throat, and Astarion’s entire body tensed as he was pinned to the ground by a weight on top of him. He gazed up into Calanthe’s eyes which burned with anger.

“What in the hells do you think you were doing?” The words ripped from her throat like a growl, heat radiating from her body unlike anything Astarion had ever felt from a mortal before. Was it flames from the fire that danced behind her eyes? Or something from inside her?

“Calanthe? Astarion?”

Tav had awoken. Rubbing her eyes, she stared at the two of them.

“He was going to bite you,” Calanthe snarled. “I warned you this would happen!”

“Oh, Astarion.” Tav sounded genuinely remorseful.

“I wasn’t going to kill her! I just needed a taste!” Astarion whined rather pathetically even to his own ears. “You don’t understand, please, I would never hurt Tav!”

“Is that what you would have said with her blood dripping from your lips?” Calanthe pressed the dagger into his skin.

“Calanthe, please, let him up.”

To Astarion’s surprise, Calanthe obeyed, carefully crawling off of him and getting to her feet, though the dagger was still pointed dangerously at him.

“Please, I’m sorry. Truly, I am,” Astarion rose, holding his hands out in surrender. “But I have been so hungry, so weak. I’ve been hunting animals, but it isn’t enough. If I could have the blood of a thinking creature I could be stronger, fight better. I know I shouldn’t have done that but it’s been getting worse.”

Tav and Calanthe exchanged a glance.

“Please,” Astarion said again, his voice low and pleading.

Tav sighed.

“Very well. But only a little bit, and no more. If I tell you to stop, you stop, or Calanthe will stop you for me.”

Astarion blinked, shocked. “I- yes, very well, thank you.”

Calanthe looked as if she might want to argue, but said nothing. Tav laid back down on her bedroll, looking anxious. Keenly aware of Calanthe’s piercing gaze on him, Aastarion knelt next to Tav once more, then lowered himself to her neck.

Tav’s skin smelled so sweet, like the dewy forest at first summer’s light. Without any more delay, Astarion sank his teeth into her flesh. Tav let out a hiss of pain, her body tensing beneath him. Astarion barely noticed. Blood, fresh, hot blood slid down his throat, electrifying his body in a way he’d never felt before.

With each gulp it was almost as if life was being restored to him, and that ever present ache of hunger in his stomach was finally sated.

“Astarion, stop,” Tav gasped. “That’s enough.” She grabbed his arms, pushing back against him.

He didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. The sound of Tav’s heart beating erratically filled his ears, and Astarion forced himself to let go. He fell back, clumsily getting to his feet.

“That,” he breathed, “was incredible.”

Tav stood up, clutching her neck.

“And, do you feel better?”

“Yes, it worked. I feel good. Strong. Happy.” He inclined his head towards her.

“I look forward to seeing you fight,” Calanthe said from behind him.

Astarion took a few steps back so he would see both women at once.

“Yes, well it shouldn’t take long. So many people need killing. Now if you’ll excuse me, your blood was invigorating, but I need something more filling.” Astarion turned his back on them, even as his instincts cried out against it. He paused, turning to look over his shoulder at Tav. “This is a gift you know. I won’t forget it.”

Chapter 6: Astarion Makes a Friend...but Doesn't Realize It

Chapter Text

Astarion couldn’t believe his luck. Sure, his side ached from where Calanthe had barreled into him, but she didn’t kill him, and Tav actually let him drink her blood. For the first time in his vampiric life, he tasted the blood of a thinking creature.

Hunting went well, and Astarion was taking his time returning to camp. As lucky as he was, he knew this wasn’t over. Confrontation was waiting for him back at camp.

More than that, however, something was bothering him.

I told you this would happen, Calanthe had said to Tav. Did that mean she knew he was a vampire, and had warned Tav? But if that was true why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she kill him? Not knowing was making Astarion nervous. It was the game again. Calanthe had her own agenda, and he needed to know what it was.

As if his thoughts has summoned her, Calanthe appeared, leaning against a tree and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh, uh, hello.” Astarion really didn’t know what to say. Had she decided to finish him off after all?

“We need to talk.” Her tone left no room for argument.

“Yes, starting with how long did you know what I was?”

Calanthe pushed off the tree and approached him. Astarion resisted the urge to step back. Every movement of Calanthe’s was like the prowling of a predator. But that was foolish. She was just a bard.

“From the moment we met,” she said, coming to a stop a few feet away. “And for the record, all moon elves celebrate The Illunathros, whether they're religious or not. If you’re going to pretend to be a moon elf in public, you might want to actually learn some things about your culture.”

Your culture. It hadn’t been Astarion’s culture in a very, very long time.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They stared at each other a moment, sizing the other up.

“If it isn’t clear, if you ever try to bite one of us without our permission, there will be serious consequences.”

“Of course. Totally agree.”

“And we won’t keep this a secret from the others. They have a right to know what they are traveling with.”

Astarion tilted his head. “Then why didn’t you tell them all sooner? Why keep my secret at all?”

Calanthe pursed her lips, looking away.

“I didn’t trust them anymore than I trusted you. You’re only a spawn, right? Still in possession of your soul. Still a person. After I realized you weren’t attacking any of us in our sleep, I decided you deserved a chance as much as anyone.”

Still a person. Not a monster, not a thing, a person. An ache in Astarion’s chest made him feel as if his heart might be beating.

Calanthe didn’t seem to notice his reaction, and so she continued on, “You haven’t shown any issues standing in sunlight, crossing running water, even entering homes without invitation. The tadpoles work I assume?”

“It would seem so,” Astarion nodded. “A revelation, I must say. It’s been two hundred years since I was able to enjoy any of those simple pleasures. And as for the rest of my quirks, well, I think Tav and I will be able to work something out.”

“Mm.” Calanthe still looked unconvinced. Astarion took the opportunity to examine her more closely. During the day, he’d never noticed, but here under the moon and starlight he saw them. Thin scars on her face, across her temples, cheek bones, and jaw. Craggy lines that seemed to shine in the night.

“I really do hope you can be sensible about this,” Astarion pressed on, storing the mental note about the scars away for another time. It’s not like I chose to be a vampire, but I am what I am. I just want to continue on in the spirit of teamwork and honesty.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Calanthe leveled him with a glare.

Astarion was taken aback. “Like what?"

“You talk like you are on a stage when you’re trying to convince someone of something. Did you realize that? This is not a performance, this is a conversation.”

A humorless laugh escaped Astarion’s lips. “My dear, all of life is a performance. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something.”

Calanthe didn’t like that answer based on the scowl on her face, but let it drop.

“You said you’ve been a vampire for two hundred years? And you live in Baulder’s Gate? Do you live with you creator?”

Bitterness and flashes from the nightmare pierced Astarion’s mind.

“Creator is a polite way of putting it.”

“And is this creator going to be a problem for us?”

“No, I don’t think so. We are far outside his influence here.” Astarion didn’t bring up the dream. It was pointless. Calanthe clearly barely trusted him, telling her that his master was still inside his head could only end badly.

“And that is a bad influence, I take it? You haven’t seem very eager to return to them.”

“Why must you dig into the past?” All pretense dropped, and anger laced Astarion’s words as his patience finally snapped. “I was a slave. A vampire spawn. Kept by the Szarr family, suppose I still am. I was never able to resist their commands. But now, I’ve been conveniently lost.” Astarion took a step towards Calanthe. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe as he approached. “They won’t ever control me again.” It was a promise and a threat, a dark declaration filled with determination and fury that Astarion had managed to keep a leash on until now.

For once, Calanthe looked unsettled, rattled. Her eyes darted between his as she looked up at him, her entire body tense.

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“I don’t think you could possibly.”

They stared at each other silently, a battle of wills that Astarion wasn’t really sure what spoils the victor would claim.

Calanthe looked away first, her gaze raising to the crescent moon above them.

“Are you praying?” Astarion didn’t bother to hide his disgust.

“No,” Calanthe answered. “I do not need to pray to find peace and comfort in the light of the moon. I was born of its light, as were you. We were made to be our best selves under its glow.”

“The moon goddess turned her back on me the moment I was bitten, her light means nothing to me anymore.”

“I know what you mean.” Calanthe still did not look at him. “Trapped in the dark, screaming and begging for mercy, for help, only for your cries to fall to nothing. To realize how truly insignificant you are. But I cannot help what I am anymore than you. My very blood sings to the moon. It is foolish to fight what relief it may grant me.”

“And I am something you need relief from?”

“Oh, most definitely.” Calanthe finally looked back to him, a small smile playing at her lips. “You are not alone in this Astarion, not anymore. Our fates, all of us, are tied together.”

“What are you saying, exactly?”

Calanthe sighed. “I don’t know. It’s been a long night and I’m rambling. Just, don’t mistake us all for the gods. We aren’t them. If you need help, ask for it, and we’ll be there. We may not be happy about it, but the only way we all survive is together.”

_____

The walk back to camp was quiet and awkward. Astarion had no idea what to say to the bard. It seemed he could trust her, somewhat. Perhaps more than the others since she’d know he was a vampire this entire time and hadn’t tried to hurt him. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t if she felt she had to.

When they reached camp Calanthe went to her bedroll without a word, and Astarion did the same.

When dawn broke, it came with it the confrontation he’d been dreading. In the light of day Tav’s bruised neck was plainly visible. The two puncture holes where his fangs sunk into her were jagged and crude. Astarion had done much more damage to her than he intended. Next time, if there was a next time, he would be more careful.

Overall, it wasn’t as painful as Astarion was expecting. Tav laid out ground rules that he was happy to accept. He could bite their enemies whenever he wanted, but no biting innocents, and only companions who offered. It didn’t seem like anyone would be giving up their throats, however, based on how they reacted. No one wanted to throw him out of the group, but it was obvious that one slip up and he would be done. Eyes that had just started to become tolerant when they cast on him became hard and suspicious once more. Except for Tav. Sweet, loyal Tav. She was the one he’d wronged, and she forgave him and carried on like it never happened.

As previously discussed, they descended into the swamp. Once more, Calanthe was left behind, this time with Gale to keep her company. Astarion didn’t miss the wince on her face as they walked away, Gale already rambling about reorganizing the camp supplies. Astarion caught her eye, and she sent him a pleading look, to which Astarion merely grinned.

They quickly encountered the old woman they met in the grove on the road being harassed by two human men who claimed she took their sister. Tav interceded, trying to calm things down and find out what was going on, but the men were not listening. They attacked, and Tav knocked them out with brutal efficiency before they could harm the old woman, Auntie Ethel.

There was something off about the entire situation. Astarion looked down at the two men laying unconscious in the dirt, feeling uneasy. Ethel had rather conveniently vanished. Were the men right about her?

“Don’t even think about biting them,” Wyll said sternly.

“I wasn’t-“ With a frustrated sigh, Astarion dropped it. No one would believe him anyway.

They went deeper into the swamp. It was glittering and picturesque, full of sunlight and almost a fairy-tale cheer. Weirdly, it was full of sheep. Tav approached one, wanting to chat, and quickly discovered it was no sheep at all. They were redcaps.

When the illusion fell revealing the nightmare fuel reality of their surroundings, Astarion felt rather smug. Too bad he hadn’t voiced his concerns earlier; he could be gloating over his companions right now.

The skirmish they had with the redcaps should have been enough to send them back to camp, but Tav insisted they see this visit to Ethel through.

“You cannot be serious,” Astarion spoke up. “Whatever is going on here, it’s dangerous. We would be far better off returning to camp.”

“Ethel is more than she claims, that is obvious,” Tav agreed. “Which means her claims to be able to help us may be more valid than they expected. If not, then we will at least have explored all options.”

Her words did not stop Astarion from complaining every opportunity he could, especially when Shadowheart slipped and fell into mud, and Astarion ended up covered in the dirty water from her splash.

He was especially vocal when it turned out Ethel was no human woman, but a gods damned hag who tried to trick Tav into giving up one of her eyes and was clearly holding a young woman hostage.

“What business is it of ours what happens to the girl? Let’s get out of here!”

His pleading was ignored, and so they followed the hag into her lair.

Astarion thought that he had a pretty good grasp on the breadth of cruelty and torture a person could inflict on another, but apparently he had a great deal to learn. The hag’s lair was full of trapped souls in some of the most horrific and creative punishments he’d ever seen. The moment Tav laid eyes on the unfortunate people, Astarion knew there was no turning back.

“And then we had to get through these poison clouds, some fight with the hag’s masked weirdos, and then the wretched beast herself,” Astarion was complaining later that night. Laying flat on his back and staring at the sky in a small clearing near camp, Calanthe was tending a particularly nasty cut he’d gotten on his arm. Shadowheart was too drained to see to everyone’s wounds, and they were out of healing potions.

“That’s awful,” Calanthe commiserated as she carefully pulled his sleeve up his arm. “I'm guessing by the fact that you all returned that the fight was at least victorious?”

“Barely,” Astarion snorted. “The wretch made copies of herself, all capable of attacking. We had to figure out which one was her. Karlach went down at one point. Shadowheart twice. We barely managed to defeat her.”

“And the woman?”

“That’s the worst part!” Astarion whined. “The little ingrate was mad at us for rescuing her! Apparently she’d made a deal with the hag to resurrect her husband in return for her newborn child.”

Calanthe froze, and Astarion looked up to see an expression of absolute rage on her face.

“She was going to hand over her innocent child to a hag? Did she have any concept of what the hag would do to her baby?”

“She claimed she was too poor to give the child a good life without her husband, but Tav wasn’t having it,” Astarion attempted to soothe her. After all, she was supposed to be helping him. “She did send her off with some wand that allowed the husband to be brought back as a zombie, but who knows what will happen.”

Calanthe grunted, but at least she resumed cleaning the cut.

Her touch was careful, professional, and Astarion was surprised to find he didn’t mind it.

“If that wasn’t enough, then we found that damned Gurr. And Tav just let him go!”

Finding out that the monster hunter had been seeking him in particular had shattered the hope that he’d be safe from Cazador out here in the wilderness.

“Yes, Tav mentioned that. What did you do to set him on your trail?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Astarion snapped. “I was kidnapped, just like you. It seems Cazador wants me back.”

“You think Cazador was behind this?” Calanthe soaked a clean rag in some tincture as she spoke. It smelled awful, and stung when she pressed it to his flesh.

“It was Cazador, I’m sure. Only he would know to send the Gurr after me.” Astarion looked up at Calanthe with irritation. “What are you doing? It burns!”

“It’s drawing the poison out,” she explained calmly. “And why would sending Gurr after you mean anything?”

Astarion let his head fall back to the ground, staring resolutely at the sky.

“Before I was turned, I was a magistrate in the city. I made a ruling that a group of Gurr passing through didn’t like, and while I was walking home they ambushed me, left me dying in the street. That is when Cazador found me. He offered me eternal life. I was in so much pain I didn’t really understand what that meant. I soon learned.”

“I see.”

“Cazador probably finds this funny. It’s a reminder that even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me, and he wants me back.”

“Don’t worry too much, you’re safe here.”

Astarion sat up, wrenching his arm out of Calanthe’s grasp. “Safe? You think I’m safe? Do you know the power a vampire lord possesses?”

“Astarion, please. I understand this is upsetting, but you flailing around won’t help me fix your arm.”

He let out a huff of annoyance, but offered his arm back to her. Calanthe took up some bandages and began to wrap the wound.

“I don’t know the power Cazador possesses, not first hand. I believe you when you say he is a danger to us, but don’t let one monster hunter get to you. Whatever Cazador is planning, he has not factored us into it. He doesn’t know that you have people looking out for you now. I’m sorry if that is only a small comfort.”

“Please, every one of our companions would hand me over rather than fight a vampire lord.”

“Tav wouldn’t,” Calanthe said stubbornly, tying the bandage off. “Nor would I.”

Her words settled on Astarion, make his mind churn. As touching as Calanthe’s words were, ultimately she wouldn’t stand a chance against a vampire. Tav though? The powerful and dangerous ranger who took down hags? He needed to escalate his plans, quickly.

Tav was his key to freedom, and he would secure her loyalty through any means necessary.

Chapter 7: Astarion's Simple Plan

Chapter Text

By the time Astarion returned to camp, most everyone had collapsed from exhaustion. Tav, somehow, was still standing, and greeted him with a smile.

“There you are darling, I was just thinking about you!” Astarion transformed into his most charming self. Every syllable extended, his voice taking on a seductive tone and his head tilting to show off his most attractive angles.

“Oh?” Tav asked, the smile not leaving her face.

“Remembering our time together, the things we shared! And I don’t just mean that lovely neck of yours. I’m growing to like the whole package…honestly. And you clearly like me too. So?”

Tav’s eyes widened, an attractive blush creeping up her neck.

“…So?”

“Come now, don’t be coy,” Astarion teased. “Your body’s already given you away. I could feel it as I was getting lost in your neck. Little…shakes of excitement. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“A lady never tells.” Tav shifted back and forth on her feet, clearly unsure what to do with her hands.

“You don’t have to say a thing – I already know how you feel, because I feel it too. We could take an evening to ourselves, get away from camp – get some privacy.” He leaned forward, taking a stray piece of auburn hair that escaped Tav’s bun and twirled it between his fingers. “I know somewhere quiet, somewhere intimate. Somewhere we can indulge in each other.”

Tav’s skin was deep red now, her blood pulsing strongly against her skin.

“Alright, that sounds lovely.”

Astarion fought to hide his triumphant grin.

“I just hope we don’t have to wait too long. I promise a night you’ll never forget.”

“I mean, why not tonight?” Tav stepped closer, placing a hand against his chest. “While everyone is passed out from the fight?”

“Oh, eager are we?” Astarion fought the urge to step away from her touch, forced himself lean in even closer. “Very well. Come find me when the others are asleep.”

Tav smiled before walking away. Astarion let himself stand there feeling accomplished for a moment. He would need to wash up, and hopefully his arm would be healed by then, but this would work. It had to.

“Well, that was fun to watch,” Calanthe deadpanned behind him.

Astarion jumped. He’d forgotten she was there.

“No one forced you to listen,” Astarion shot back.

Calanthe walked passed him, her displeasure radiating from her every pore.

“Just don’t go too far. Last thing we need is to find you two ripped to pieces by a bear mid coitus.”

A bark of laughter escaped Astarion despite himself.

“Oh but what a way to go! You could tell that story for decades.”

Calanthe rolled her eyes, but Astarion spotted the twisting of her mouth as he tried to bite back laughter. It quickly faded however, and she regarded him rather seriously.

“Just don’t be stupid, alright?”

“Humph. Jealousy is not a good color on you, darling.”

Calanthe scoffed. “Me, jealous? Just out of curiosity am I meant to be jealous of Tav, or of you?”

Astarion was practically giddy with delight at the verbal sparring match. “Why, who says it can’t be both?”

Finally Calanthe let out a laugh. It was a warm, rich sound, and filled Astarion with a sense of accomplishment almost as strong as his successful seduction of Tav.

“Whatever. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my dear. Try not to keep yourself up envisioning Tav and I.”

Calanthe flipped him off over her shoulder as she walked away.

____

Tav met him in the woods just as planned. Astarion emerged from behind a tree, his pale skin dazzling in the moonlight. He absently wondered if there was something to what Calanthe said about being their best selves under the moon, even as he endeavored to bring Tav into his grasp.

She played it off, pretending she wasn’t desperate for him, even as heat rolled off her body and her pupil’s dilated. At the end of the day, Tav wasn’t any different. She wanted him, wanted to possess him, to be possessed by him, and forget herself in the pleasure he could provide her.

And he would provide, give her everything she desired and more, for his own sake. Make her need him, crave him, so that she would never dream of letting Cazador take him from her side.

The first touch of Tav’s soft lips to his sent a shiver down his spine. Tav grasped him closer, and Astarion shoved down the oily, coiling shame that brewed in his chest.

It was not that he wasn’t attracted to Tav. She was beautiful with delicious soft curves over strong muscles, and her bright eyes were so full of life. But as much as this was pleasurable for his body, Astarion’s mind could not remain present. He quickly fell into auto-mode. Kiss her neck, tease her breasts, caress her body. There was a little surprise when she offered her neck to him, but in the end it was back to the mental checklist of moves he knew would drive her wild. Tav writhed and moaned beneath him, a puddle of pleasure under his hands.

When he thrust inside her she called out his name, clinging to him desperately. Astarion barely registered it, barely heard her. He’d drifted off, retreated inside himself to hide from the misery. This was all he was, this was all he was good for. No matter what he did in camp, in battle, his body was made to please others, and it was the best weapon he had to stay alive.

______________________

The next morning, Calanthe was already awake when Tav and Astarion returned. She watched from inside her tent as they snuck back into camp. Neither one seemed any worse for wear, and Calanthe let out a breath of relief.

The idea of going off into the woods to f*ck when they were surrounded by so many enemies seemed utterly stupid to her, but she knew better than to try to lecture two horny adults like they were children.

After waiting a bit, Calanthe made a show of exiting her tent and walking over to greet Tav.

“Morning,” Tav said cheerfully. “Rest well?”

Calanthe looked Tav over. “Not as well as you, perhaps? Good night?”

Tav blushed, glancing over at Astarion’s tent.

“Yea, you could say that.”

That was all Calanthe really needed to hear on the matter, though her curiosity was begging for more details. She doubted Astarion would appreciate her gossiping about him, however, so she didn’t pry.

“When are we going to rescue Halsin? We’ve delayed long enough.”

Tav straightened, looking a bit put off.

“Soon. We’ve been scouting out the area, and now that we have a good idea of what we’re facing we can head in.”

“Good. Today. We can’t wait any longer.”

“Yes, yes of course. You’re right.”

“Get everyone up and prepared. And one last thing, I’m coming with you.”

Tav immediately looked stressed out.

“This is the most dangerous thing we have done yet. It would be safer if you stayed behind.”

Calanthe and Tav were about the same height, but Calanthe stood up a little straighter and broadened her stance.

“You do not command me, Tavera. I accept your suggestions, but no more. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.”

Chapter 8: Way Too Many Goblins

Chapter Text

There was no idle chatter as they made their way to the goblin camp. Tav and Calanthe’s discussion that morning had turned into a full on fight, until Calanthe made it clear she would go to the camp on her own if she had to.

Tav was practically in tears by the end, but finally gave in. Now the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Naturally, Astarion wanted to see if he could make things worse.

“Such a beautiful day,” he spoke loudly. “A perfect day to see our beloved bard’s blood splattered on the earth, wouldn’t you say, Tav?”

“Shut up, Astarion,” Shadowheart muttered.

“Oh, touchy. And here I thought we were all such good friends.”

“Conflict can only lead to the deepening of our bonds, if we survive the fallout.”

Blessed Lae’zel with her gith sensibilities missing the awkwardness of the situation once more. Honestly, she was really starting to grow on Astarion.

Tav didn’t even look back, her spine rigid and head held high as she plowed ahead.

Astarion jogged to catch up to her.

“Chin up, darling. If she dies, no one will blame you.”

Tav shot him a glare but said nothing. He sighed dramatically then looked over his shoulder to Calanthe, who was walking with Karlach. Perhaps she would be more fun this morning, but the look in her eyes suggested otherwise.

Why must everyone be so boring?

They smelled the goblin camp before they saw it. Piss, sh*t, and rotting flesh assaulted their noses and Astarion deliberately stopped breathing to spare himself.

When they finally reached the gate everyone waited to see how Tav would handle it. They were stopped, naturally, but to Astarion’s surprise Tav used her the tadpole to make the goblins let them pass.

“Welcome, true souls,” one goblin muttered with a bow as they walked through.

Finally, people who appreciated their splendor. Sure, it would be nice if it wasn’t goblins, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

As it turned out, the goblin camp was much more to Astarion’s taste than any of the other locations they'd visited so far. It was a filthy den of debauchery. Everyone was drinking, fighting, dancing, and the gods knew what else. Sure, the ale smelled revolting, but the atmosphere was wild and dangerous, just how Astarion liked it.

They stumbled across a trader, and while Astarion sold off some of their wares and bought new ones, Tav got into a conversation about that fool bard they met in the grove who, surprising no one, had gotten himself captured. Astarion was vaguely aware of the bard being dragged off, and he quickly rejoined the group.

Before he could stop them, Tav and Calanthe made a beeline for a goblin that had an owlbear cub of all things sitting next to her. Tav immediately dropped to her knees before the creature, cooing at it, while Calanthe struck up a conversation with the goblin. Apparently they were using the cub for some sort of childish game. For one worrisome second, Astarion thought Calanthe actually wanted to play as she asked the goblin to repeat the rules, but thankfully that was not the case.

“Has to be awfully hard to keep this thing fed,” Calanthe remarked, looking down at the cub. “You would be better served to just let it go and get some real chickens for your sport.”

“Ah, you’re probably right,” the goblin lamented. “Eaten us out of house and home, this one.”

Tav shooed the cub away. Not needing to be told twice, the creature took off away from the camp.

“You think it will find it’s way back to us?” Calanthe muttered.

“Maybe. It knows my scent at least now.”

With a sinking feeling, Astarion realized the two of them had silently conspired to bring home another mangy pet. Fantastic.

Shadowheart made a comment about the ruins of the camp being an old Selune temple. There was clear mocking in her tone, and she looked straight at Calanthe when she said it.

“Once again, I do not follow Selune,” Calanthe remarked.

“Selune, Sahinene, is there really a difference?”

“Yes.”

“Actually,” Gale chimed in, “there are many who see no differences between the two goddesses, seeing them as avatars of each other.”

“Those people would be called idiots,” Calanthe snapped back.

Astarion choked back laughter at Gale’s facial expression.

“Hush, we need to focus.” Tav led them to the temple doors, and they made their way inside. Getting past the guards was easy. All they had to do was say they were visiting some drow. Inside they were first met with an elderly goblin woman with a receiving line stretching out in front of her. When she spotted them, she called them forward, though she spoke directly to Tav.

Priestess Gut was her name, and she offered them all brands of the Absolute. Thankfully, Tav declined on their behalf. Astarion would slit that little wretch’s throat before he let her or anyone ever brand him.

A new threat quickly took shape as Gut offered to “clear the darkness” in Tav’s head, and Tav actually agreed. Gut led Tav off to a side room. When the rest of the group tried to follow, Tav ordered them to stay back.

“This won’t take long,” she muttered.

“But-“

Tav cut him off with a look.

As the door slammed shut behind Tav, Astarion let out a breath.

“This is madness,” Gale muttered. “Surely she shouldn’t be in there alone.”

“She’s not alone,” Lae’zel hissed.

Astarion looked around to see what Lae’zel meant, and quickly realized who else was missing. Calanthe.

The group idled around for a bit, chatting with anyone interesting look they came across. They learned that the goblin leaders were spread out inside the temple, and that Gut was one of them. It also became apparent that no one was aware of any druid being kept there. Either the leaders were keeping Halsin’s capture a secret, or he wasn’t there at all.

“What are we all talking about?” Calanthe appeared at Kalarch’s elbow. She looked the same, not like she’d been in a fight, and a moment later Tav appeared as well. It was easy to miss, but Astarion quickly noticed a dark spatter of blood on her armor.

“Everything alright?” Shadowheart asked.

“Perfectly fine. Let’s move on, shall we?”

Astarion darted to Calanthe’s side, giving her an inquisitive look.

“We killed the priestess,” Calanthe said quietly, and it took Astarion a moment to realize she’d spoken in elvish. He used the language so rarely.

“Good, though next time a heads up would be appreciated.” Astarion responded, the words flowing over his tongue with a strange familiarity.

“Were you worried? I’m touched.”

“Of course, I would miss my lover terribly.”

Tav, who’d been listening, sent him a heated look, which Astarion returned.

Calanthe cursed under her breath and fell back to Karlach once more.

They quickly found the second leader, a hobgoblin, though he was far too central to carry out an assassination on, so they moved around to the other side of the temple. They found that idiotic bard, and through some clever trickery Tav was able to secure his release without bloodshed. To everyone’s displeasure, though, she could not convince the fool not to meet them at their camp.

It seemed rescue missions were the theme of the day as they also discovered a man being tortured who they freed through similar means.

The third room they entered, however, was different. A strange man was lecturing goblins on the intricacies of pain. When they clearly did not get it, he sighed and dismissed them. His demeanor changed when he laid eyes on their group.

“Greetings, children. I’ve met few besides goblins since I arrived here.”

“What brings a follower of Loviatar here?” Calanthe stepped forward.

Loviatar, the goddess of pain. This could be very interesting.

The man revealed he’d been brought in to teach the goblins how to more effectively torture information out of prisoners, though by his tone it didn’t seem to be going well.

“Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?” the man asked.

“Entirely,” Calanthe said, inclining her head.

“I don’t understand,” Karlach said, and the man let out another pained sigh.

“We worship our goddess through pain, it is true, most often through our own, but it is an intimate and loving thing. One we offer up. If you would permit it, I could show you, first-hand.”

His offer was directed at Tav.

“Oh, I need to see this, don’t you dare say no.”

A few of their companions seemed as eager as Astarion to see where this led, Lae’zel and Karlach among them, but Tav did not.

“I am afraid I must decline,” she said politely.

“I’ll do it.” Calanthe stepped forward, grinning broadly at the priest.

“Excellent. When you are ready, stand there facing the wall.”

Calanthe didn’t hesitate, getting in position without complaint. This was getting more interesting by the second. How would their delicate bard stand up to this?

They watched as the priest went to a nearby table and picked up a heavy mace. Astarion’s smile faded a little. Surely he didn’t mean to use that on Calanthe? It would break her in half.

That seemed to be precisely his plan, and he stood behind Calanthe, a maniacal gleam in his eye.

“Both Loviatar and I are very interesting in seeing how you handle pain, dear one,” he spoke. “And should you delight her you will most assuredly receive her blessing – trust me.”

He raised the mace and brought it slamming down Calanthe’s back. Calanthe cried out, stumbling forward and bracing against the wall.

“The pain you suffer will cleanse you, do not fight it!”

Calanthe let out a muffled sob.

“Your pain sounds so sweet dear one. Again!”

Once more the mace fell on Calanthe’s back. Blood splattered out across the priest.

Calanthe once more cried out, her legs shaking.

“My, my. Who knew our friend had so much blood in them,” Astarion remarked, acutely aware of the hunger in his stomach.

“Try not to lick your lips as you say that,” Shadowheart said blandly.

“Pain is proof that we live! Revel in it.” The priest raised the mace for a third time, striking Calanthe harder than before. She screamed and fell to her knees, choked sobs spilling from her throat.

“That’s it dear one!” The priest was shouting. “Let Loviatar hear you!”

As entertaining as this was, enough was enough. It seemed the others agreed as Shadowheart stepped forward and clasped the priest on the shoulder.

“Not the worst technique priest. Good wrist movement, lots of…enthusiasm.”

“It was a fine strike,” Astarion added, noticing the priest didn’t really seem to hear Shadowheart. “Excellent form!”

The priest finally turned his attention away from Calanthe, dropping the mace to the ground.

Calanthe stood up, and when she turned her face was streaked with tears and blotched with redness.

Any mirth Astarion was still feeling vanished. Calanthe’s pain suddenly became all to real, and he shifted uncomfortably at the revelation that he didn’t like it.

“Sweet child,” the priest turned back to Calanthe, “you bore the pain like a true believer. I am proud to have served you this penance.” He bowed to Calanthe, and she returned the motion with a nod.

“It's been a while since I experienced such pain. It was invigorating.” Despite her appearance and her previous cries, Calanthe’s voice was surprisingly even.

“Loviatar herself found your performance inspiring. She has deemed you worthy of her blessing.” The man made some strange hand movement, sprinkled an unknown substance on Calanthe, and then a burst of red light settled over the bard. Calanthe took a deep breath, managing to smile at the priest. “And on a personal note,” he continued, "thank you. That was positively, divine.”

Tav grabbed Calanthe by the arm and dragged her away.

“What the hells was that?” Tav hissed. “Shadowheart, she needs healing.”

“Don’t.” Calanthe raised a hand to stop Shadowheart. “I’m fine. Save your energy.”

“But-“

“No, I said I am fine. It really wasn’t that bad.” Calanthe wiped away her tears as she said this, and upon closer inspection, Astarion believed her, believed she’d been playing it up to impress that priest.

“Fine,” Tav spat. “Let’s go.”

Astarion joined Calanthe, pressing in close and not bothering to hide as he inhaled her scent deeply.

“Ah, you must know you smell exquisite right now, darling.”

Calanthe didn’t respond, but instead reached under her tunic to rub her fingers in the gashes. When they emerged they were covered in her blood.

“Want a taste?”

Astarion stopped dead, staring at her fingers.

“Is now really the time for this?” Gale asked, annoyed.

“Go on, I know you’re curious.”

Astarion didn’t need to be told twice. He lunged forward, grabbing Calanthe’s hand and sucking her fingers into his mouth.

The flavor he was met with was entirely unexpected. For starters, it was hot. Not spicy hot, but more like nearly-boiling water. The taste was rich, like a red wine, but filled with some spark he couldn’t quite place. His tongue wrapped around Calanthe’s fingers, fangs threatening her skin.

“Ah, we ask before we bite.” Calanthe withdrew her hand, and Astarion pouted.

“Such a tease.”

“You’ll get over it.”

At the back of the temple they found a hallway that snaked off to the side. At the end, past even more goblins, was a prison. It Halsin was anywhere, he would be here.

Unfortunately there was nothing but a bear. Goblin children were throwing rocks at it, and Tav immediately darted forward to reprimand them, animal lover that she was.

The lecture went as well as could be expected, but while they were talking the bear lunged for the bars of its cell and broke them down.

Chaos erupted.

“Protect the bear!” Calanthe shouted.

“Why?” Astarion called back even as he took position on the nearest high ground he could find.

“Just do it!”

The bear smashed one of the goblins to pieces, then turned to the rest. Astarion spotted one of the goblin children running for the exit. If they escaped, they would sound the alarm. Drawing his bow, he was ready to fire when a firebolt hit the goblin in the back, sending it crumpling to the ground.

Astarion turned to see who had shown such brutality, expecting Gale or Shadowheart, but was shocked to see Calanthe with her hand raised. That flame was behind her eyes again, and she turned to the other goblins.

They charged her. Why wouldn’t they? She bore only a small knife and no armor. Clearly she was the easiest target. Calanthe let them get frightfully close to her, then reached out and grabbed the nearest one. Lightning erupted from her hand, shocking the goblin and sending them to the dirt.

“What the f*ck?” Karlarch yelled as she swung her axe. “How can you do that?”

Calanthe didn’t answer. She was engaging the other goblins, her movements so swift and agile it was like a dance. Every few moments she let lose another shocking grasp, killing her opponents swiftly.

Astarion forced himself to focus, and soon enough the battle was over.

Everyone was staring at Calanthe. Calanthe ignore them all, running towards the bear.

They all watched as the bear stood on it’s hind legs, perhaps to attack her, but before their eyes transformed into a man. Calanthe launched herself at him, and he caught her in his arms.

“Cal! My friend, it’s been too long.” The man’s deep voice reverberated through the room.

“I was so worried about you,” Calanthe cried, her voice muffled in the man’s enormous chest.

Clearly this was Halsin, and he and Calanthe knew each other. That explained why she was so eager to rescue him, at least. Astarion eyed the druid warily. He was a wood elf, obviously, but huge. He stood far taller than every member of their group, and had large bulging muscles to match. His face was covered in scars, which only enhanced his rugged handsomeness.

Calanthe quickly explained their situation, and Halsin’s face grew grim. He let Calanthe go and extended a hand over her head, a glow emitted as he did so.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t remove this for you. Like all the other tadpoles I’ve encountered these past months, it’s been tampered with. It cannot be removed by physical or magical means.”

Astarion sagged as what little hope he’d been carrying for the druid’s abilities were crushed.

“Stay here, we’ll come back and get you when we’ve cleared the camp.”

Halsin nodded, but apparently Tav had enough.

“Excuse me. Just like that?”

“Just like what?” Calanthe played innocent.

“What are you, since you clearly aren’t a bard. Tell us the truth, now.”

Calanthe glared, and Halsin stood beside her, his expression mild but his body language defensive.

“I’m a sorcerer,” Calanthe admitted, “of a bronze draconic line. That is all you need to know for now. We can discuss it more once we are out of this camp.”

A sorcerer? A sorcerer? All this time she’d been sitting back at camp, letting them do the fighting, when The Weave literally flowed through her blood? Astarion turned his back on Calanthe, anger and betrayal blinding him.

Tav once more took the lead, and they went back into the hall. At least whatever the group was feeling about Calanthe’s revelation, it fueled their attacks and the goblins quickly went down. Next was the drow. It was tricky, as she had guards and a scrying ball keeping watch. Astarion quickly dislodged the orb and helped take out one of the goblins with Lae’zel while the others went for the drow.

She did not go down easy. It ended when Calanthe, with a scream of rage, launched herself at the drow so they both toppled over, then began punching over and over with lightning in her fists. Everyone watched silently. The lightning vanished, but the punches kept coming, Calanthe’s face steadily becoming more covered in the drow’s blood.

“Easy on, soldier. She’s dead,” Karlach stepped forward. “Let it go.”

Calanthe twisted her neck around to look at Karlach, her face unrecognizable it was so twisted in anger.

“Let it go,” Karlach repeated gently.

Calanthe blinked, then shoved herself off the body, breathing hard.

They rested briefly to heal and catch their breath. Astarion took this opportunity to loot every body he could without raising alarms. When he returned, he promptly dumped his findings on those more equipped to carry it and pranced away before they could yell at him.

Killing the hobgoblin was much more difficult, as doing so alerted the entire camp to their treachery. They ended him with Karlach’s axe through his head before continuing on. None of the goblins were particularly tough, but there were many of them. The fight lasted an eternity, but when they were through the entire camp both inside and outside lay quiet, not a single goblin left alive.

Astarion’s mind was hazy with a combination of the thrill of the slaughter and pure exhaustion. They stumbled their way back to Halsin, who offered them as much healing as he could, before he promptly left, promising to meet them at the grove.

They trudged back to camp, battered, bruised, and bloody.

However, it seemed that Tav had a bit of a spark left in her yet.

“You need to explain yourself, Calanthe, now.”

Chapter 9: Sharing Scars

Chapter Text

Calanthe stood her ground, not looking the least bit ashamed.

“You said you were a bard,” Tav continued, shouting. “You lied to us!”

“I never said I was a bard,” Calanthe replied calmly. “You assumed I was, and I didn’t bother to contradict you.”

“Semantics,” Tav waved a dismissive hand. “How could you let me coddle you, leaving you at camp all the time? We could have used your help out there!”

Astarion settled in at his tent, enjoying the show. Everyone else watched from a safe distance, forming a circle around the two women.

“I did what I had to in order to protect myself. I didn’t know if I could trust you all.”

“But why would that be a secret? What did you think we would do?”

Calanthe’s expression darkened.

“I didn’t know, and that’s why I waited. I’ve been hunted all my life for what I am, I’ve learned it is better safe than sorry to believe everyone I meet will treat me like any other sorcerer.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

Calanthe let out a pained sigh. “I am much closer to my dragon ancestor than most sorcerers. He is my great-grandfather, actually. He helped raise me.”

Tav’s jaw dropped open.

“So, does that mean you are super powerful?”

“When a tadpole hasn’t decimated my powers, yes.” Suddenly, Calanthe looked exhausted. “I was weak, empty after we escaped. There wasn’t much I could have done anyway. So, I have been biding my time, training while you all were gone, fighting for my powers back. People have desired my hide for decades. Wizards want to experiment with my blood, tribes and kingdoms sought to use me as a breeder to produce draconic soldiers, others merely wanted to harvest my body parts for their own gain. I’m sorry that you feel betrayed, but I will not apologize for what I did, and I would do it again if I had to.”

Stunned silence met these words, and even Astarion felt a little ill. Calanthe took this opportunity to escape, turning on her heel and walking away into the darkness.

“Someone…someone ought to go with her,” Karlach stammered.

“No, leave her be. Let her cool off,” Wyll reasoned. It was sound logic, but Astarion didn’t really care.

He waited a few minutes before darting off in the direction Calanthe had gone. It took him a little bit, but he eventually found her in a nearby stream. Her clothes were strewn on the shore, and Calanthe stood up to her hips in the water, completely naked.

Astarion moved closer, inspecting her body. She had the wiry build of someone who traveled for a living, far less delicate than Astarion originally assumed. But what was most intriguing were the scars. Much more obvious than the ones on her face, Calanthe’s entire body was covered in them. They traced over her ribs, the back of her shoulders, down her spine, around her hips and down into a V leading to her sex. Though at first glance they appeared to be lines, they were uneven and ragged, indicating they were not done by any blade.

“Are you going to join me, or keep staring like a creep?”

“Why, join you, obviously. I am positively filthy.” It wasn’t a lie, and after a brief hesitation, Astarion shed his clothes and waded into the water. Calanthe stared as openly as he had, though she seemed to find nothing of note and went back to bathing herself.

It was honestly a little offensive that she wasn’t enraptured by his beauty, but Astarion let it go.

“So, that was fun,” he joked. “Explains why your blood was so hot, I do hope you will offer me a chance to indulge myself in your taste again in the future.”

He was flirting, though he really hadn’t thought of Calanthe like that, but it was all he could think to do. Calanthe did not take the bait.

“You stink. Either bathe or leave.”

Astarion’s gasp was not at all put on, and he took the soap she offered with a huff. He turned his back on her, scrubbing at his legs. There was an intake of breath behind him, and Astarion knew Calanthe had spotted his own scars.

“You tell me about yours, I’ll tell you about mine,” Astarion offered, speaking over his shoulder.

Calanthe sighed. “I used to have scales,” she admitted. “They were beautiful, the exact shade of bronze as my Abba…that is my great grandfather. Fourteen years ago, I was traveling with some bohemians. They were all artists, not warriors, and there was a drow raid. The drow captured one of the children and told me they would let the kid go if I handed myself over. I agreed.”

Astarion scoffed.

“I loved that boy,” Calanthe snapped back. “He was smart, and kind, and had his entire life ahead of him.”

“But you’re still young yourself, by elvish standards. How old are you, hundred and sixty?”

“About there,” she conceded. “Anyways, they used a sussur flower to control my powers, and chained me. I was in the underdark for almost eleven years as their prisoner. The first few years, they would rip my scales out, then when they regrew, rip them out again. Eventually the scales stopped growing back…”

Astarion stopped moving, facing her again.

“That’s…awful. Why?”

Calanthe laughed humorlessly. “They made armor out of it for their queen. That drow in the camp, she was a member of the royal house. She didn’t torture me herself, but she visited a few times, taunted me with how much better my scales look on their ruler.”

“How did you escape?”

Calanthe sank into the water, sitting down and tilting her hair back. It exposed her throat, which shone deliciously in the moonlight. Astarion swallowed hard, trying to ignore it.

“There was this little boy they assigned to me when I first arrived,” she began, running her fingers through her hair. “He brought me whatever garbage they intended for me to eat, and cleaned up the blood, piss, and sh*t I left behind. He was a curious thing, and after a while he started to talk to me. You know how drow are, he wasn’t exactly treated well, and as he grew his resentment for his people did as well. He was maybe nineteen when he hatched the plan get us out. Slipped a sleeping draft into the guards meals, and with some invisibility potions we snuck out. It was hard, and we were pursued, but we got away.”

“What happened to the boy?” Astarion asked, expecting the worst.

“Still in the underdark, though he lives with a drow colony near the surface. They are followers of Eilistraee, the good drow goddess. I have visited him a few times since I escaped. He’s happy enough.”

Astarion nodded. “So, you only escaped three years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s just bad luck, getting captures so soon by the mindflayers. Though not as bad as mine. I went from one shackle to another.”

Calanthe tilted her head and Astarion sat down in the water facing her. The rushing cool sensation of the stream was calming, making it much easier to discuss this.

“My master, Cazador, fancied himself a poet. He spent all night carving this into my back…there were many revisions. He always said my screams sounded the sweetest.”

Calanthe’s eyes widened. “That’s twisted.”

“Indeed. The man’s insane.”

Astarion absently rubbed the soap on his arm, not meeting Calanthe’s eyes.

“What does it say?”

“I don’t know, though Tav recently informed me that it is written in infernal. It doesn’t really matter. Whatever he wrote, it won’t change what he did to me.” Astarion let out a breath. “Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord, patriarch of his coven, and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power, I mean power over people. The power to control them completely. When I became his spawn, he became my tormentor.” Astarion paused, but Calanthe didn’t interject to he continued. “Cazador would send me out into Baulder’s Gate to bring him the most beautiful souls I could find. It was a fun little ritual of his. I’d bring them back, and he’d ask if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes he would serve me a dead, putrid rat. Of course, if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse,” he added lightly.

“Gods,” Calanthe muttered. “If we weren’t naked and I wasn’t sure you would hate it, I might hug you right now.”

Astarion laughed.

“I appreciate your restraint.” Astarion finally looked at her. Calanthe gazed back, no pity in her eyes but rather…understanding. “You mentioned your tormentors wanted to use you for breeding. Did that ever….?”

“What a delicate and sensitive way to approach such a difficult topic,” Calanthe said sarcastically. “But no, they did not. They never got the chance.”

Astarion nodded, and they both fell silent.

It was oddly comfortable sitting in the stream with her. Yes, they were both naked, but she was not staring at him with lust, or trying to covertly touch him in some ill-disguised attempt at seduction. They just simply were…being. Not ulterior motives, no expectations.

It was nice.

Finally, Calanthe stretched before standing up and wading back to short to grab her clothes.

“Ripped,” she said sadly, holding up her tunic.

“Well someone just had to please the goddess of pain. Honestly, such a depraved display.”

“You wanted me to do you it you prick.”

They bickered back and forth while dunking their clothes in the stream to remove the worst of the day’s gore. It was a warm night so they had no trouble putting the wet clothes back on.

“You know, I could fix that for you,” Astarion offered, examining Calanthe’s back and the tears in the fabric there.

“Really?”

“Indeed. I happen to be excellent with a needle and thread.”

Calanthe took the tunic back off and handed it to him without another word. She walked back to camp in only her bra on top, going straight to her tent. When she reached the opening, she paused and looked back at Astarion. A lovely, tentative smile graced her lips, one which Astarion returned before she slipped inside.

Astarion left her tunic up to dry before settling in himself. He’d gotten more than enough blood during the battle and didn’t need to hunt.

Laying in his tent, staring at the canvas ceiling, his mind replayed everything he’d learned about his companion.

A sorcerer, one who was close enough to her dragon ancestor to have been raised by him. If Astarion had known that from the beginning, he’d surely targeted her in his plan to seduce his way into gaining a protector. The thought was an unsettling one for some reason. It just felt…wrong, knowing what he did now about Calanthe. No, he was content with their relationship how it was.

Calanthe wasn’t his lover, nor his target, but she wasn’t just a traveling companion either. What did that leave? His friend? Astarion never had a friend before, didn’t even know how to be one, but he was willing to learn.

With that thought in his head, his mind relaxed and he slipped into a peaceful trance.

Chapter 10: The Teifling Party

Chapter Text

Astarion emerged from his tent the next morning to a very disgruntled-looking Tav waiting for him.

“My dear, you look quite distressed.”

“I just had a positively fascinating conversation with Shadowheart,” she said, her voice quite low. “After yesterday she decided there shouldn’t be anymore secrets among us. Apparently she is a follower of Sharr.”

The goddess of the night and loss. Her followers had a terrible reputation for cruelty, and for hating Selunites.

“Well, explains why she was always needling Calanthe about worshiping a moon goddess. But really, could be worse. What did you say to her?”

Tav ran a hand through her hair, which was loose today. “That her religion was her business. What else could I say? She hasn’t been a problem so far.”

From across the little path that had formed in their camp, Calanthe emerged from her tent. Their eyes met, and he held up her tunic with a proud grin. Calanthe strode over, still wearing just her bra.

Tav wasn’t exactly subtle, her eyes widening as she narrowed in on Calanthe’s scars.

“You finished?” Calanthe asked, ignoring Tav.

“Good as new! Well, not quite, but as good as you are going to get out here.”

Calanthe took the tunic and inspected Astarion’s work. It was some of his best, if he did say so himself, considering the conditions.

“The only thread I could find is a different color, hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Tav pulled the tunic over her head, then gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

Astarion offered a small bow.

“Always happy to be of service.”

Calanthe turned to leave, but Tav reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, wait. Can we talk for a minute?”

“What?” Calanthe looked at Tav expectantly.

“I just want to say I am really sorry for how things went last night. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I was angry and tired but it was no excuse. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Of course.” Calanthe pat Tav on the head like she was a puppy. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, leading this group. I would be surprised if you didn’t lose it every now and then.” She walked away for real this time, and Tav let out a long breath.

“That went okay, right?”

“Yes, I would say so.”

“What did you two talk about last night? Did she seem really upset?”

Astarion opened his mouth to speak, but then snapped it shut. Though Calanthe never said the things she told him last night were a secret, if he really thought about it, telling everyone else what she said still seemed like it would be a violation of her trust.

“She seemed tired,” he said instead, “but not angry. I think it will be alright.”

It was obvious that the rest of the camp were sucking up to Calanthe as they got ready to depart. Gale saved the best pieces of sausage for her, Wyll made her tea, Karlach hovered by her side and was doing increasingly ridiculous things to make Calanthe laugh, and Shadowheart offered to help Calanthe braid her hair for the day. Even Lae’zel asked to spar with Calanthe in the evenings to help with her re-training.

It was very annoying. No one fell over themselves to appease him when they found out he was a vampire. It was an unfair double-standard.

When they got on the road Astarion’s jealousy quickly vanished as Gale assaulted Calanthe with a thousand questions a minute.

“How old is your great-grandfather? What form did he take when he courted your great-grandmother. Is she an elf too? What draconic traits does your grandfather have? Could you reach out to them to see if they could help us? Does your family live in a dragon clan, or with elves? Do you have any siblings? Do they have similar powers as you?”

Calanthe took this in stride, answering but sounding a bit bored as she did so.

“He’s around six thousand years old I think. He took the form of a moon elf. She is a moon elf too. My grandfather looks halfway between a dragonborn and an elf. It would take many months for any message I sent to my family to reach them. They live in a community of elves for the most part. I have a twin brother, he is not a sorcerer at all.”

“Really?” Gale latched on to this last piece of information. “No magic whatsoever?”

“None,” Calanthe confirmed. “Our father always joked that I stole it all for myself in the womb. My brother didn’t find that funny though so he stopped eventually.”

Astarion listened to the interrogation, storing away each new piece of information in case he should ever have need of it. Eventually they reached the grove and Calanthe was given a reprieve. On the inside of the gate they were immediately greeted by Zevlor, who fell over himself with thanks for saving his people.

That was true, wasn’t it? They had saved the refugees. It certainly hadn’t been on Astarion’s mind as they’d cleaned out the goblin camp, but Tav must have been thinking about it at least. Zevlor offered them a reward, and Astarion nearly fainted when Tav refused it.

“You need that gold far more than we do,” she said, clasping Zevlor on the shoulder.

Astarion didn’t get the chance to chew Tav out before they were on to Halsin, who was waiting just down the path.

“Cal!” Halsin called out, stepping forward and holding out his arms. Calanthe didn’t hesitate to step into his embrace, letting out a happy sigh as she rested her head against his chest.

“I’m so glad to see you safe,” Calanthe said as she pulled away. “Have all things been settled here?”

“Yes. I’ve put a stop to the rite for good and cleared the grove out of any dark druids that remained. It fills me with grief to know that my trust in Khaga was so misplaced. Though your actions were extreme, I thank you for your intervention, my friend.”

Astarion blinked, looking between the druid and Calanthe, who suddenly looked a little sheepish. The dots connected in his mind, and he let out a whoop of laughter.

“You were the one who killed Khaga?” He asked with disbelief. “How did you manage that?”

“Would you be quiet?” Calanthe hushed him. “I did what had to be done. She was too dangerous to be left alive.”

The grin did not leave his face, though Tav looked a little more than peeved.

“How do you two know each other?”

“When Calanthe was engaging in her tutelage, she became a student of the arch druid at the time. We became friends then. That had to be what, just over a century ago?”

“Indeed, before the shadow curse,” Calanthe said, and Halsin’s face fell.

“Yes, which brings me to what I need to tell you about the tadpoles.”

Halsin launched into a rather lengthy explanation about his research into the mindflayers, some shadow curse, and a place called Moonlight Towers, which apparently would be their next destination. All Astarion really understood was they were even farther away from a cure than they hoped.

It also seemed Halsin would be joining their group, and the teiflings were going to throw them a party at their camp that night. The party Astarion could appreciate, and the druid didn’t seem too irritating.

Tav and Halsin kept discussing plans and the rest of them wandered off.

“Oi, fangs,” Karlach gestured him over.

“Fangs?” he asked, not too thrilled with the nickname.

Karlach and Shadowheart were off in a corner, whispering to each other. When he joined, they immediately pounced.

“What is a tutelage?”

“That’s what you wanted to ask?” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Elves under a century old are often sent out into the world to train in various professions with relatives or family friends.”

“So, we can all agree Calanthe and Halsin were definitely just more than friends during her stint with he druids, right?” Shadowheart looked at him eagerly.

“Oh yes, they were most certainly lovers.” Astarion actually had no idea if this was true, but the two women’s delight was far too amusing to crush their fantasy.

The druids ended up rewarding the group handsomely for rescuing Halsin, and this time Tav had the common sense not to turn them down. Finishing up their business, the group headed out, now with Halsin in tow.

They spent the day in relative ease, Halsin showing them what plants in the area were edible and the best hunting locations. When Gale casually mentioned that Astarion would be particularly interested in that piece of information, forcing Astarion to admit to the druid that he was a vampire, shooting Gale a nasty glare.

“Well, that’s a first,” Halsin said, his deep voice rumbling. “Mind your manners and I’m sure we won’t have a problem.”

It was remarkably simple, and Astarion didn’t trust it one bit. This scarred elf was far too genial to be true.

They made it to camp early that night, and everyone frantically tidied up to prepare for their guests. Astarion didn’t bother, not all that eager to engage with the teiflings, so instead he sauntered around the camp, giving pointers to his companions who definitely did not ask him.

The teiflings arrived shortly before dark with food and wine to go around. Music and laughter quickly filled the air, and to Astarion’s great surprise nearly every teifling walked straight up to him to thank him for his role in securing their safety.

He accepted their thanks, of course, but did not engage them in further conversation. Well, except that scamp Mol, who was trying and failing to teach Arabella the finer art of pick-pocketing.

“No, no, no, you need to move more quickly than that,” Astarion interjected, and soon he was offering his own lessons, choosing targets from among his companions for the children to practice on. None of them succeeded, and when they were caught they went scurrying away, shrieking with laughter.

Eventually the little ones tired out, and only the adults remained. The tone of the party changed, and Astarion made himself focus. He needed to bed Tav again tonight. Rather annoyingly, she hadn’t come by to see him yet. As Astarion watched, she went to spent time with each of the others, and was most definitely flirting with all of them. Astarion even got treated to overhearing Lae’zel’s own seduction attempt, which was so brazen and explicit it might have made him blush.

He should have known he wouldn’t be the only one interested in Tav. She was beautiful, kind to a fault, and powerful. Practically everyone was falling over themselves to get her attention. When she finally joined him, Astarion pushed his irritation aside.

“I do hope you’ll come to my bed tonight,” he said, a sultry tone to his voice.

“Hm, maybe, I haven’t decided.” She winked, and they engaged in a rather enjoyable few minutes where he tried out his best pickup lines on her, which made her laugh. Astarion’s chest clenched, and for a moment he found himself genuinely hoping that she would choose him.

A sound, an absolutely otherworldly and lovely sound, drew Astarion from his thoughts. Someone was singing. Following it, Astarion found in the center of camp Calanthe playing a lute and singing. After a few words the bard Alfira joined in and the two women’s voices spun and danced together in the air.

It was the most beautiful thing Astarion had ever encountered.

The song spoke of leaving home for the first time, saying goodbye to friends and family, and finding oneself. It wasn’t anything Astarion could relate to, but the teifllings around him sniffled and wiped tears as they listened.

With every note Calanthe seemed to glow, the warmth of the firelight and the coolness of the moon casting her face in an extraordinary way that made her look like a being not of this world.

The song finished, and there was silence before everyone broke into applause.

Calanthe and Alfira bowed, and Astarion took his exit. The entire thing unnerved him. The refugees all had so much to live for. Families, futures, what did Astarion have? Even his companions had something to go back to, for the most part. But in this world he was utterly alone.

This thought made him thoroughly grumpy, so Astarion went in his tent to wait for Tav. The sounds from outside fell away, and eventually were replaced by faint snoring. Still not sign of Tav. Perhaps she thought to meet him in the clearing like the first time?

Moving quietly Astaron left camp and made his way back to that moonlit refuge.

She wasn’t there.

She hadn’t picked him.

Astarion collapsed against a tree while his mind spun. She’d rejected him? For someone else? No one rejected Astarion, at least not where sex was concerned. Rejected his personality or his very presence? Sure. But never a chance to f*ck him.

His jaw clenched and Astarion took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. This didn’t mean anything. The plan wasn’t in jeopardy. He would just to work a little harder to maintain her affection, that was all. This wasn’t the end.

Feeling miserable, Astarion ambled his way back towards camp, not really paying that much attention to where he was going.

A low moan and the faint sound of slapping skin drew his attention.

Was that Tav? And her new lover?

It shouldn’t have mattered who it was, but curiosity burned through Astarion and led his feet to change in the direction of the noises.

As he got closer, he was able to make out two voices, one male and one female. So, it was one of the other men who was his rival. It must be Wyll. It had to be. He was so handsome and chivalrous, it made sense Tav would choose him. But if it was Gale? Well, Astarion couldn’t make heads or tails of that one.

There was a small clearing up ahead, and Astarion dropped down to hide in the shadows. He wasn’t going to watch, he wasn’t a creep, he just needed to know who Tav was with.

When he finally got a look, Astarion realize he’d made a horrible mistake.

It wasn’t Tav at all.

Calanthe, completely naked, was on her back with her hands over her head as she moaned in pleasure. Between her spread legs knelt Halsin, who had a firm grasp on her hips and was rutting into her with perhaps the largest dick Astarion had ever seen.

Gods, how was such a little thing like Calanthe thing taking that beast?

Calanthe gasped, arching her back, her small breasts peaked and chest heaving for breath.

“That’s it, my sweet, let the earth know your pleasure,” Halsin encouraged, reached one hand between her legs to rub her cl*t. Calanthe’s entire body clenched, and she whimpered, before crying out her release.

Astarion snuck away, feeling a little bit dirty and embarrassed. He should have realized that wasn’t Tav’s voice he was hearing. If Calanthe knew he’d seen, she would surely be angry. Astarion always hated when his targets had invited others to watch without asking him first, hated how it made him feel.

Should he say anything? Or keep quiet?

He knew what Tav would do. She would fess up first chance she got, apologizing profusely, but that didn’t mean it was the smartest way to go about this…just perhaps the “morally correct” one.

There was plenty of time until dawn. He could think through his options.

____

Calanthe rose early the next day before the drunken revelers from the night before stirred. She made straight for Astarion’s tent and didn’t even say anything before walking inside. She knew Astarion could hear her approach.

There he was, sitting cross legged in his tent, eyes wide like a scarred puppy. It was a good thing he didn’t know how adorable he was when he did that, or else he would undoubtedly use it against others all the time.

“Calanthe, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Do you have anything you wish to say to me?”

She waited, arms crossed over her chest.

“Ah, well. Last night I was out taking a walk and I happened to stumble upon you and Halsin, uh, engaged in a rather compromising position.”

“And?”

“And I may have stayed for a few seconds longer than I should. Just to make sure you were okay, you know, as a friend.” He tilted his head. “Are you alright? I’m surprised you could walk over here at all. That is quite the pounding your poor kitten took.”

“I’m fine,” she got on her knees in front of him, staring at into his ruby eyes. “And don’t call my c*nt a kitten.”

“Noted.” Astarion, smiled almost lazily. “Well glad to hear you are unharmed. Now, do you know where Gale ran off to? Perhaps he should start on breakfast.”

“Astarion.”

He flinched.

“Yes?”

“Is there anything else you want to say?”

“Yes well. I suppose. I…am…sorry.”

Calanthe had to bite back a laugh. It was like every word had caused him physical pain.

“There you go. You are forgiven, this time. But in the future if you stumble on me having sex with someone please walk away immediately.”

“How did you even know I was there?” He was pouting now. Again, adorable.

“I saw you scurrying away you weirdo.”

“Hmph.” Astarion peered at her. “I don’t suppose you know who Tav wandered off with?”

“Lae’zel I believe.”

“What?” Astarion leaned back, utterly aghast. “Those lines worked on her?”

“I’ll pretend I know what you’re talking about.”

That wasn’t enough, and in great detail Astarion recalled everything Lae’zel said to Tav the night before.

“Wow. I’m a little speechless. Is it warm in here?” Calanthe fanned herself dramatically. Astarion didn’t laugh, so she dropped her hand. “Are you really jealous? I thought it was just sex between you two?”

She prayed Astarion couldn’t hear how fast her heart was beating.

“It is, just fun. But still, it’s insulting that she would rather spend her evening with the gith over me?”

Calanthe forced herself to smile.

“There, there. I’m sure she will come crawling back.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely. And don’t be weird about it. Jealous doesn’t look good on you.”

“Darling, everything looks good on me.” He gave her a dashing smile, and Calanthe’s stomach did a little flip.

sh*t. She was in trouble.

Chapter 11: Who Deserves Grace?

Chapter Text

The teiflings left surprisingly quickly, desperate as they were to reach Baldur’s Gate. Their group took a little bit more time, packing up their camp under the careful watch of Halsin, who insisted they left the spot exactly a they’d found it.

Astarion would have complained if the druid wasn’t carrying the majority of their supplies for them. Well, maybe he complained a little.

There was also some discussion on which route they ought to take to Moonrise Towers. Halsin insisted that the underdark was an easier journey than the path through the mountains, but over the last few weeks they’d determined that a githyanki creche was somewhere through the mountains. Lae’zel insisted they go that way instead.

Calanthe notably stayed out of the discussion, but Astarion noticed she seemed paler than normal, her eyes staring into the distance with an empty quality to them.

“Excuse me, my dear. I was wondering if you could assist me with my tent for a moment?” Tav turned from the argument and gave him a relieved smile.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” They reached Astarion’s tent, which he’d knocked down but not properly packed up, and she let out a sigh. “I’m not sure what to do. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to go to the creche, but Lae’zel is so sure they can help us. But the underdark? How can that possibly be better?”

“Mm.” Astarion watched as she folded up the tent properly, then knelt down next to her and pretended to help. “We should take the mountain pass.”

Tav paused. “Really? Why?”

“Some of our group may find being in the underdark too difficult…emotionally.” He cask a meaningful look towards Calanthe, hoping Tav got the message.

He followed her gaze and her mouth dropped into a silent “oh”.

“Her scars?”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t say more.”

“Alright. Yes. I didn’t want to go down there anyway.”

When they were done with the tent, Tav went back to the group and announced they were going over the mountains. Halsin bowed his head, acknowledging the decision.

They got back on the road a few hours after the teiflings, the path getting steeper as they went.

It didn’t take long for them to see the smoke. Quickening their pace, they came upon what looked to be an inn of some sort, and it was engulfed in flames. Fresh corpses lay scattered in the courtyard in front of the inn, and Astarion quickly recognized their uniforms. These were Harpers from Baulder’s Gate, elite city guards. What in the hells were they doing out here?

A woman approached them, pleading for their help retrieving some important person from inside the burning building. Karlach stepped up, seeing as she was already on fire, and charged in headfirst.

The rest hung back as they were not immune to fire damage and waited. There were crashing sounds from inside, shouts, and a few moments later Karlach emerged with a gaggle of people covered in smoke behind her.

The very important person turned out to be Councelor Florick, an official from Baulder’s Gate. She’d been traveling with Duke Ravenguard himself, who was abducted by their attackers. Halsin assured them that the Duke had been taken to Moonrise Towers, adding another item to their to-do list. Astarion bit back a smile as he saw Calanthe pull out her notebook and write their new task down. Even more interesting, away from listening ears Wyll revealed to them all that Duke Ravenguard was in fact his estranged father.

Fireproof as she was, Kalarch was not immune to smoke, so they gave her some time to recover. While they waited, the group began to explore the area. A bull nearly ran them down, but Tav managed to calm the beast. They then stumbled upon a particular storage room, with a man hiding inside. After some deception they convinced him to let some of them down to the hideout he guarded.

It turned out there was a large underground cave, and it was full to the brim with stolen goods and the notorious crime group The Zhentarim. The men they’d saved from the knolls many days before were there, and gave them an introduction to their leader.

Astarion was only half listening. So many goods, so many treasures all just laying there, waiting to be snatched up. Surely they wouldn’t notice if a thing or two went missing?

While Tav talked to the leader, Astarion slipped a few pieces of jewelry into his pockets, a dagger, and a scroll. Nothing major, everything was fine.

That smug feeling lasted all of ten minutes. Calanthe was looking at some goods that were for sale when one of the bandits came up to show her a robe.

“It will enhance your arcane energy reserves, and the embroidery is nothing to sneeze at either!”

There was definite interest in her eyes, but as she leaned closer to inspect it, the man slammed his fist into Calanthe’s side. She doubled over in pain, and when the man pulled his fist away Astarion caught the flash of metal slipping back into his sleeve and the scent of fresh blood.

“What in the hells?” Karlarch yelled.

“You think you could steal from us and live to tell the tale? You take our goods, we take your lives!”

“Wait, this is a mistake, we didn’t steal from you!” Tav threw up her hands.

“Check this one’s pockets, then maybe you will be singing a different tune.” The man jerked his head in Astarion’s direction, and Tav’s eyes went wide.

Calanthe fell onto her hands and knees and vomited blood all over the floor.

f*ck. She was poisoned.

A fight erupted. Karlach let out a roar of rage, fire erupting around her. Gale sent magic missiles flying, striking several of the thieves all at once. Astarion launched himself at the man who’d stabbed Calanthe, sinking his fangs into the man’s neck while driving a dagger into his ribs.

Shadowheart lunged for Calanthe, but was blocked. Astarion managed to reach her, pulling her close and pressing his hand on the wound to stop the bleeding, but he didn’t have any antidote on him. She wretched again, her eyes bulging.

“Hang on, Shadowheart is coming,” Astarion said, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

Calanthe whipped her head back and forth, her entire body shaking.

“Move!” Shadwoheart finally reached them and shoved Astarion out of the way. She placed her hands on Calanthe’s body and blue light enveloped her body.

Astarion knew he couldn’t just sit there watching so he jumped into the fight. It took a long time to clear out the caves of every thief lurking in the dark. When it was done, they all rushed back to where Shadowheart was cradling Calanthe’s body in her arms.

“Oh gods, tell me she isn’t dead,” Karlach wailed, her eyes already filling up with tears.

“She’s alive. Just unconscious. I was able to stop the poison before it reached her heart, but she needs rest.” Shadowheart carefully lifted Calanthe into her arms.

They quickly exited the lair, Tav throwing some gold at a whining artist who’d been held prisoner there before they left. Astarion quickly dispatched the guard at the top and they rushed out to find the others. Darkness had already fallen and they’d made a small camp a bit down the road from the smoldering wreckage.

Everyone rushed forward, demanding to know what happened.

“Astarion decided to play pickpocket and nearly got Calanthe killed!” Gale pointed an accusing finger at Astarion. “They caught him stealing and Cal paid the price.”

Astarion looked offended, even though he knew Gale was right.

“Honestly, I don’t know what happened. I was just looking at what they had.”

“Turn out your pockets,” Gale demanded.

“Really? We made it out, is this necessary?”

“Do it, Astarion,” Karlach growled.

Wincing, Astarion gave in, reaching into his pockets and pulling out the stolen goods.

“You nearly got our companion killed for such trinkets?” Lae’zel joined the fray. “Your selfishness knows no bounds.”

“Why do we even let you stay with us, if this is how you treat our lives?” Wyll glared viciously.

“Enough,” Tav spoke up. “Astarion is not getting kicked out. No one here is innocent of endangering the group at one point or another.” She took a big breath. “But Astarion, that was insanely reckless. When Calanthe awakes you owe her a thousand apologies.”

Astarion’s throat was tight, but he nodded. He watched silently as Tav helped Shadowheart peel Calanthe’s blood-stained tunic off her skin so they could inspect the wound. The tunic Astarion had so painstakingly stitched back together was now ruined again. He felt sick and turned away.

This was it. The play was over. They all hated him, even Tav had barely defended him. Not that he deserved it. She must surely be disgusted by him now, and so would Calanthe when she awoke. His two defenders. His…friends, gone because he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing something shiny.

He was kidding himself, thinking he could ever be more than just some vampire prostitute, a slave who only had worth when he was on his back. Cazador was right, he was pathetic, useless, not worth anyone’s care or affection.

Before he realized what was happening, Astarion was. He wasn’t sure if he was running away or not, he just knew he needed to get out of there. After a few minutes, his feet led him back to the lair. Without really thinking about why he was doing it, Astarion descended into the cave once more.

Instead of hunting for prey, Astarion spent the night rummaging through the abandoned goods. Every time he came across something he thought one of his companions would appreciate, he snatched it up and threw it into the sack he was slowly filling. Finally, his muscles aching as he lifted the sack onto his back, Astarion noticed something laying on the ground.

The arcane robe that man had been showing Calanthe before he stabbed her. It was a lovely shade of dark blue with golden stitching. Astarion remembered Calanthe’s ruined tunic and quickly snatched it up.

Though his strength had improved since this entire journey began, it still wasn’t all that impressive, and every step was a struggle.

It was still the middle of the night when he returned, dropping the sack and collapsing into the empty bedroll someone had left out for him. Everyone was sleeping under the open air except for Halsin, who kept watch. The druid regarded him with cool eyes, but said nothing.

Exhausted, Astarion fell into a fitful trance.

The rest did not last long, and when he roused it was to discover there were two empty beds, and Halsin now tranced. A quick scan told Astarion it was Calanthe and Gale who were awake. The sack he’d brought had been emptied, the goods sorted and carefully placed next to their intended recipient’s sleeping forms. The robe was also notably missing. If Gale had taken it, Astarion was going to be pissed.

There we low voices, so Astarion followed them, determined to make sure his gift had made it into Calanthe’s hands.

Gale and Calanthe were sitting nearby on the other side of some bushes, gazing up at the sky. Astarion knelt down, peering through the leaves of a bush, and felt a rush of satisfaction when he saw Calanthe was indeed wearing the new robe.

“I just don’t know how you aren’t angry at him. He almost killed you,” Gale said bitterly.

Calanthe wasn’t angry? That couldn’t be right.

“I’m upset with Astarion to be sure, but there is no point being angry.”

“You and Tav. I don’t understand. Sure, he is handy in a fight, but Astarion is one of the most singularly selfish and carelessly cruel people I have ever met. He doesn’t care about anyone else but himself.”

Astarion’s fists clenched, but he didn’t move.

Calanthe let out a deep sigh. “If he were anyone else, I wouldn’t put up with it, but with Astarion I just can’t hold it against him.”

“Why, because he’s beautiful?” Gale spat.

Ha, well at least the pompous ass couldn’t deny that.

“Don’t insult me,” Canalthe shot back. “We all enjoy looking at Astarion, yourself included, so don’t give me that. And his looks have nothing to do with it.”

“Then explain it to me.”

Calanthe hesitated for a moment.

“Astarion has endured what no person should ever have to. Two hundred years as a slave; tortured, starved, utterly alone and not in control over his body. Two hundred years, Gale. Your human mind isn’t capable of comprehending what it is like to live that long. I haven’t even been alive that long. The fact that he's come out of it with any sense of self, any semblance of right from wrong at all is a miracle. Of course he’s selfish and cruel. How could he be anything else after what he endured?” Calanthe took a breath before continuing. “I experienced only a fraction of Astarion survived down in the underdark, and I know what I was like when I gained my freedom. I was angry, violent, self-destructive. I barely knew who I was anymore. I still don’t most days. So Astarion…I’m in awe of him, Gale. He’s maybe the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Tears streamed down Astarion’s cheeks silently, but he couldn’t wipe them away, couldn’t move at all. His entire body was frozen by Calanthe’s words. Him, strong? Nothing could be further from the truth.

“I see your point,” Gale admitted, “but that doesn’t mean we should let him run around doing whatever he wants, hurting whoever he wants.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Calanthe replied. “I’m just saying, I don’t see any point in punishing him so harshly when he screws up. Hold him accountable for sure, and if he keeps putting our lives in danger that is a different thing, but so far he has been loyal to this group and when has done something wrong, he apologized and changed. Like almost biting Tav, he has kept his word and not touched any of us since. Tav understands all this and agrees with me. Besides, out of people who have put this group in danger, Astarion is not even in the top three.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Gale asked, his voice hitching.

“Three, Wyll knowingly got us involved with a devil. Not just any devil, but one of the highest ranking in all the hells. Two, Lae’zel is deliberately leading us into a den of her people when she knows how likely it is that they will kill us. And one, you are still hiding the truth about what that condition in your chest is. The others don’t notice, but I can sense The Weave. It shudders and cracks around you Gale, and it’s getting worse.”

“That’s not fair,” Gale countered, very upset. “Wyll was tricked and manipulated by Mizora, Lae’zel has clearly been brainwashed by her people and I…I would never put you all in danger. If I sense something is going wrong I will leave before anything bad happens.”

“So the circ*mstances of Wyll’s and Lae’zel’s pasts are valid excuses and Astarion’s isn’t? And the fact that you don’t intend to hurt us but may anyway should be taken account but not for him?”

Gale fell silent.

“I…well. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Again, you don’t have to like him or forgive him if he causes you harm. That’s your right to decide, but I just ask you don’t judge me for making a different choice.”

“I understand.” Gale placed a hand on Calanthe’s shoulder. “You should go back to bed. It’s my turn to keep watch anyway, and you need your rest.”

Calanthe yawned before getting to her feet and stretching.

“You’re probably right. See you in the morning.”

Calanthe made her way past where Astarion was hiding and back to camp. She paused when she saw Astarion’s empty bedroll and looked around. It seemed she didn’t spot him as she returned to her own bed and laid down.

When he was sure she was out, Astarion approached carefully, staring at her sleeping form. Had he really fooled her so completely, that she thought such impossible things about him? Astarion knew he should be celebrating, laughing at the moon for sending him her most gullible daughter, but he only felt empty.

Calanthe and Tav both, two fools taken in by his lies. He didn't care about other people all that much, or at all really, but these people here...they mattered. Could he really disregard them like he did the rest of the world?

Yes, he needed them to protect him from Cazador, to protect him from their companions, but he could protect them too…from himself. Astarion swore that whatever harm may come to them along this journey, it would never again be by his hand.

Chapter 12: Astarion Conintues to Be Confused

Chapter Text

Astarion tried to make himself as innocuous as possible the next morning, waiting at the very edge of camp as everyone awoke and prepared for the day. Notably no one bothered to say anything to Astarion about all the gifts he’d brought back. Typical.

Calanthe was the last to wake. She stretched, went away to wash up, and returned for breakfast without so much as even glancing in his direction. When it was time to start moving, however, she dropped to the back of the group and walked a few steps behind everyone else.

It was as convenient an opening as he was going to get, so Astarion walked next to her, standing a bit closer than he would have otherwise. Finally she looked up.

“Good morning,” she said pleasantly.

“Good morning,” he repeated. “I must say, you look rather fine today. Did you perhaps do something different with your hair?”

“You know, I didn’t,” a hint of a smile played at Calanthe’s lips. “Someone left this very nice robe by my bed last night. Fits well, don’t you think?”

“Like a glove,” Astarion agreed. Calanthe did not pick up the conversation so Astarion continued, “You might say that whoever left it for you was being very considerate. Going all the way back to retrieve it for you.”

“I might, if said person hadn’t nearly gotten me killed a few hours before.”

“Well,” Astarion huffed, “perhaps that person felt bad, and was trying to apologize.”

“If that is the case that person should use their words.”

Astarion swallowed, very aware of the fact that the rest of the group had fallen mysteriously silent ahead of them.

“Very well. I’m deeply sorry that my actions yesterday caused you harm. It was not my intention and…I will be more careful in the future.”

Calanthe sighed before grabbing his arm, bringing them both to a halt. Tav looked over her shoulder with a questioning look and Calanthe nodded at her. “Give us a minute. We’ll catch up.”

When everyone else had continued on the path out of earshot, Calanthe turned to Astarion.

“Do you really mean that, or are you just trying to get back in everyone’s good graces?”

“Of course I mean it, are you calling me a liar? Darling, I’m devastated.” He placed a hand on her heart dramatically.

“Actions speak louder than words Astarion. I accept your apology, but I need to see that you mean it.”

A sinking feeling of shame and disappointment settled in Astarion’s gut. Ah. That is what she wanted. Plastering a smile to his face, Astarion moved closer and wrapped an arm around Calanthe’s waist, pulling her body flush up against him. Her intense body heat sunk into his skin almost immediately, and Calanthe looked up at him, eyes widening.

Astarion lowered his head so his lips were right next to her ear, brushing against her skin as he spoke.

“If you wanted a more physical apology, you should have just said so.” Calanthe shivered in his arms, but instead of melting against him she placed her hands on his chest and shoved back, hard.

The force was enough to make Astarion stumble a few feet away. He quickly adjusted himself, surprised by her actions.

“What the f*ck, Astarion? That is not what I meant!”

Astarion tilted his head, trying to regain his composure.

“Then what ever possibly could you mean?”

Calanthe pinched the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache.

“I meant you need to show you are sorry through doing better in the future, that’s all. Gods above, I would never ask you or anyone to…gods. What kind of person do you think I am?”

That felt like a trick question.

“Uh, a normal one?”

Calanthe’s face fell.

“No, Astarion, that is not normal. That is not okay.”

“Oh, you sweet innocent flower,” Astarion cooed. “Still so young in the ways of the world.”

Calanthe gaped at him like a fish for a moment before throwing her hands in the air and briskly walking away.

Astarion stared after her, stuck between embarrassed and annoyed. Settling on annoyed, he jogged to catch up with her.

“Well, clearly a misunderstanding. I will endeavor to do better in the future, but really, dearest, you are much more naïve than I thought.”

The comment went ignored. Letting out a huff, Astarion extended his stride so that she was the one who had to jog to keep up, giving him a little petty satisfaction.

~~~~

The day could have been no more interesting than that, but of course they had to come across some new monstrosity. This time, it was in the shape of a group of githyanki and a giant red dragon slaughtering Harpers. It was too late to intercede by the time they arrived, not that Astarion wanted to, so instead Lae’zel insisted on going down to meet them.

“No,” Astarion said flatly. “You can walk straight into the pointy edge of a gith blade if you choose, but I will be staying back here on this cliff safe and sound.”

“For once, I agree with Astarion. Confronting them is foolish.” Shadowheart glared down the cliff to the gorge below where the gith were still stationed.

After a bit of back and forth, Tav, Wyll, and Gale agreed to go with Lae’zel while everyone stayed back, keeping a watchful eye in case things got violent. They couldn’t hear the conversation, but it seemed to go okay as the githyanki departed soon after without conflict. The group got back together and Tav briefly explained what happened.

“That artifact you carry seems to be quite important to a great deal of people,” Wyll noted, staring at Shadowheart. “If we are intent on going to the creche we need to be sure to keep it to ourselves.”

Lae’zel made an disapproving sound, quickly picking an argument with Wyll. Tav seemed uninterested in it, however, and her eyes landed on Calanthe. Astarion looked as well, and saw the sorcerer glaring off in the direction the gith had gone.

“You alright?” Tav asked.

“What?” Calanthe’s head snapped back. “Oh, yes. Fine.”

“I had no idea you were joining Shadowheart on the anti-gith team as well?” Astarion jested.

Calanthe scowled. “It is not the gith that annoy me. It’s the red dragons they ride. They are a disgrace to all dragon kind.”

That drew Lae’zel’s attention.

“They serve the great Vlakith and are honored companions of my people. Be careful what you say.”

“You know nothing of what you speak,” Calanthe snarled back. “They allowed themselves to be gifted like toys to the githyanki, and ridden around like ponies. I do not know how they can live with the shame; to be one of the greatest and mightiest creatures known across the realms, powerful, intelligent, a being born of The Weave, to become nothing more than another species’ pet.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tav quickly jumped between them. “Let’s just keep moving, shall we?”

“Aw, just when it was about to get interesting,” Astarion whined.

“Indeed. Would have liked to see who would win that fight,” Shadowheart said with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Thankfully the rest of the day passed without further incident. It was just a lot of hiking…a lot of hiking. Sweat trickled down Astarion’s face, his hair sticking to the back of his neck as they climbed ever higher into the mountains. It was disgusting, and unbecoming for him to look as disheveled as he was sure he did.

They finally stopped as the sun was setting over the peaks. As soon as a spot was picked Astarion dropped his bag and headed straight to the nearest stream. Thankfully it had a decent-looking pool he could wade into. Stripping off his clothes, he walked in up to his waist and let out a sigh of pleasure as the cold water rushed over his skin. Astarion sunk down all the way, dunking his head under and running his hands through his hair. When he stood back up he found someone had snuck up behind him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my sweet?”

Tav stood there, also naked, hair lose and a smile on her face.

“Mind if I join you?”

He did mind actually, but it’s not like he could say that.

“Of course not.”

Tav approached, a heated look in her eye. Gently, she placed her hands on his hips and turned him so he was facing away from her.

“I am down for whatever you want to do, but facing this way does make pleasuring you a little harder.”

“Silly,” Tav wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed herself into his back. “This isn’t so you can pleasure me, it’s so I can pleasure you.”

“What?”

Tav’s lips pressed against the skin between his shoulder blades.

“You’ve had a stressful few days, I just thought you could unwind. Is that alright?”

Her hands skimmed over his hips sending a jolt straight to his co*ck.

Astarion’s head fell back and he let out a breath.

“More than alright, darling.”

Tav smiled against his skin before resuming her teasing. While her mouth made it’s was across his back, alternating between kissing and licking, her body curled up around his ass and her hands caressed his torso.

“My beautiful vampire,” Tav purred. She pinched one of his nipples and Astarion gasped. At the same time, she reached down with her other hand and grasped him firmly in her hand. All thoughts vanished from Astarion’s head.

She began to stroke him, her grip softer than he was used to. So many of his partners only ever touched him roughly to get him hard so they could back to their own pleasure, but it seemed Tav was content taking her time. It was driving Astarion mad. Her thumb rubbed over his tip and Astarion’s knees buckled and he moaned, a genuine moan that didn’t sound at all like his usual carefully practiced noises.

“That’s it, let me take care of you.” Tav stood on her toes and nipped at his earlobe. Each pump of her hand Astarion’s hips jerked back against her touch.

“Tav,” he gasped. “I-“

“Sh,” she soothed, planting a kiss against his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

The pleasure that had been building at the base of his spine erupted, and Astarion’s hips thrust forward unevenly as he came, crying out Tav’s name.

Tav tucked her face into his back, one arm holding him tight while the other milked the last trembling waves of his org*sm from him.

“There. Feel better?” Her voice was soft, sweet, and it brought Astarion back to reality.

She hadn’t come. She hadn’t let him touch her at all. What had just happened?

Astarion pulled himself from her grasp, spinning around to face her. Before he could say anything she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. This was it, this is when she would demand reciprocation.

The moment never came. Tav offered him her neck, and he fed while holding her in his arms. When he was done, all she wanted was to be carried back to camp. Astarion obliged, tucking her into her bedroll before returning to the stream and washing their clothes.

“Hells, I thought you were done.”

Astarion looked up to see Calanthe standing with her arms crossed.

“Darling, we can’t keep running into each other like this.”

Calanthe chuckled.

“Have a good time with Tav?”

Astarion angled his head, looking for any trace of judgement, anger, jealousy…but there was nothing of that nature.

“A gentlemen never tells.”

“Right, so how was it?” Calanthe teasing tone made Astarion laugh.

“Strange, if I’m being honest. She didn’t let me do anything.”

“Oh, when you said strange I thought Tav had some weird kink. Getting off on your partner’s pleasure is not strange at all. She probably enjoyed it immensely.”

Astarion felt uncomfortable so he quickly changed the subject, finishing with the clothes and leaving Calanthe to her privacy.

“Have a good night, Astarion.”

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

“Good night, Cal.”