#Durge: ...On the other hand I'll do it myself.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Durge: "Why are you at rest? Start cleaning the camp!" Sceleritas Fel: "Aaah! Master! I'm sorry, I'm ever-so sorry to forget my other duties! What a wretch I am! I'm not even worthy of being your scullery maid." [startled, realises he has done poorly] Durge: "Wash the dishes!" Sceleritas Fel: "At once. I will shatter some glasses and sprinkle the fragments in the beds of your other followers. Keep their dreams bloody."

Truly the world's most helpful butler. I would love to know how he interprets the other household chores.

[ddarker-dreams]

Locke, I don't interact with fandoms much but uhhh could you help a girl out and explain the appeal to ENVER-EVIL-ASS-GUY-GORTASH??? 😭😭😭

Like I don't see the appeal ��� but that's ok 🙏 i can be converted !!! Would you care to explain a lil what it is that you like about him? 👉👈

(On another note, how do you feel about Astarion or any other characters you'd like to talk about (just in generallll))

rubbing my lil hands together ... ohohoho........... for months, i have languished in silence, biding my time until i could conduct my Enver Gortash proselytization. i'll begin with some broad strokes then focus in on the dynamic i built a loose storyline around.

among the dead three's chosen, he's the most reasonable (although, to be fair, the competition isn't steep). his willingness to share authority with tav/durge belies a certain pragmatism most power-hungry folk lack. this is probably why bane picked him out from the riffraff. he's vain, sure (what with his portrait being plastered everywhere), but he isn't arrogant. he knows that to see his goals realized, he'll need to cooperate with others. patience, compromise, calm in the face of unexpected circumstances; these attributes disguise and strengthen his tyranny.

this snippet from the readable item, the ultimate state, specifically the bolded portion is of great interest to me:

What is progress? Progress is the movement of society and culture towards a state of collective unity. Without unity, mortals, each with their own individual agenda, blunder against each other, causing friction, conflict, war. Unity - peace and prosperity - is achieved when the collective follows a single agenda, that of one superior person.

he wants a functioning society, not a wretched one, where evil's inflicted for evil's sake. with that out of the way, i can finally elaborate on my neoliberal business major x humanities major dynamic. i'm sorry to everyone who read that cursed sentence, but it describes this relationship so well, i can't bring myself to delete it .

your early interactions with lord gortash are rife with tension. he senses your disdain, finding it more amusing than threatening. you're an idealist, well-intentioned yet naïve to the ways of the world, at least in his initial appraisal. when your path's cross, he entertains your perspective. you dislike his rhetoric, he believes your aims are as likely to happen as a reconciliation between shar and selûne.

you do have potential though — he won't deny that. gortash starts looking forward to your little run-ins (occasionally organizing these 'coincidental' encounters behind the scenes). unlike the other fools championing your bleeding heart cause, you walk the walk. he can't help but admire that quality. you'll inevitably be treated to one of those 'we're not so different, you and i,' spiels from him. you're easy on the eyes and make for pleasant company, this development was inevitable, in his opinion.

you wanted him to be this wicked, heartless monster, he can see your inner conflict when you realize this isn't the case.

there's a thrill in wooing you. gortash begins inviting you over, offering to make concessions on this or that issue should you plead your case effectively enough. and he does so enjoy hearing your arguments. it's a window into the workings of your mind; his latest intrigue. a few goblets of wine in, he's steering the conversation away from politics or philanthropy and into subjects more personal.

he already knows a great deal about you, courtesy of his vast information network. it spans throughout baldur's gate and beyond. naturally, he keeps this information to himself. you may have an inkling of a suspicion, but he's utilized so many proxies that nothing definitive can be traced back to him.

you develop some influence over him. you haven't made him soft per se, he's just more willing to 'do good' then before, since it'll earn your respect. it's still a means to an end.

[geekusfemme]

Rumours

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Full story on AO3 — Wattpad 100k+

Astarion x Female OC

Rating: Mature

Summary: What if Astarion was betrayed by the Dark Urge and handed over to the Gur Hunter? And what if another kind of hunter saved him and set his life on a new course, one that would ultimately lead him to cross paths with those who had abandoned him? This story aims to give Astarion his own hero's journey separate to the main party, and will run parallel to the canon story in which Durge will be an antagonist.

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Chapter Nine: While Onyx and Halsin oversee removing Karlach's tadpole, Astarion and Ashara visit the small mining town of Giant's Hollow to resupply and look for information on any survivors of the grove massacre...

—★—

"Do you think Karlach will be okay?" Ashara's voice was subdued as they walked down the road that ran through the center of Giant's Hollow.

Astarion scanned the street ahead, his gaze catching on a swinging wooden sign - The Raven's Roost. He inclined his head toward it and steered Ashara in its direction. "I don't think Onyx would let his favorite hot-water bottle get hurt. And if this Halsin fellow is as capable as he claims, then I suspect that by the time we return, Karlach will be lounging by the fire, chugging ale, and showing off a stuffed tadpole like a trophy."

Ashara's lips twitched with a faint smile. "I hope so. If it works... we might have a viable cure to help the other infected too."

Astarion pushed open the tavern door, its hinges creaking in protest, and ushered her inside. The air within was thick with the scent of smoke and stale ale, the dim light casting long shadows across the rough-hewn walls. He guided her to a table near the corner, his voice softening as he replied, "Those who want a cure, at least."

Ashara's brow furrowed as she settled into the seat opposite him. "Who wouldn't?"

He leaned back, one arm draped casually over the chair, his grin sardonic. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps those who find the prospect of power enticing? Those who might relish the chance to bend others to their will? Myself included, naturally."

Her eyes narrowed. "You want a parasite squirming in your skull?"

He shrugged, the motion deceptively elegant. "Not particularly. But it's a preferable alternative to crawling back into the shadows and enduring Cazador's leash again."

Her expression darkened, the tension in her shoulders returning. "That won't happen," she said firmly. "The shadows, maybe, but not him. I won't let it."

A flicker of warmth ignited in his chest at her conviction, but he smothered it quickly. "How noble of you," he drawled, though the edge in his tone lacked its usual sharpness. "All I'm saying is if there's a way to have both freedom and daylight, I'll take it."

Ashara hesitated, her discomfort evident, but Astarion ignored it, focusing instead on the barkeeper's wary glances cast their way. There were questions to ask, and supplies to gather. Whatever Ashara's thoughts on his motives, they could wait. For now, he had a role to play.

"I'm going to have a chat with the barkeep," he said, his voice low and measured, his eyes still roving over the crowd for potential threats. "See if anyone has heard rumors of any tiefling refugees from the Emerald Grove. While I'm gone, remember - head up, chest out... actually, no." His gaze flicked over her slender frame, and he smirked. "Best skip that one in your case. Just... try not to look edible, all right? And scowl. Act mean if anyone talks to you."

Ashara's mouth quirked into a lopsided frown. "Wouldn't being nice to them be more effective?"

He turned fully to her now, raising a brow. "In a backwater town like this? No. Kindness is a sign of weakness, one they'll exploit the moment they see it. Trust me, darling, I know these places."

Ashara frowned but nodded, her expression a mix of skepticism and begrudging acceptance. "Personally, I think your outlook is too pessimistic," she muttered. "But you have more experience in these matters than I do, so... I'll let you take the lead."

Astarion's brows arched in mock offense. "That sounds suspiciously like you're just hiding behind me... again. I thought I was the one needing protection?"

Her eyes sparkled with reluctant humor, and she shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "If we're attacked by another rampaging bear, I'll happily throw myself in front of you and take charge. Until that happens - yes, I'm hiding behind you."

He couldn't help the smirk that curled his lips. "Try not to trip on my skirts, darling."

Ashara blinked, her brows knitting in confusion. "Huh?"

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Astarion turned and strode toward the bar, leaving her to her confusion.

As he leaned casually against the counter, his posture the picture of nonchalance, Astarion couldn't help but wish Onyx were here. The image of the massive direwolf by his side, radiating an aura of barely restrained violence, would certainly have made things simpler. A being like Onyx didn't need words to command respect.

However, Onyx was back at camp, overseeing Karlach's procedure with Halsin, while Zevlor kept an eye on Mirkon and Vaarl. It had been Onyx, of all beings, who had suggested this excursion, insisting they gather information and supplies for their growing group.

Astarion's lips twitched in a faint smile as he recalled the direwolf taking him aside before their departure. Onyx's amber eyes had locked onto him with an intensity that Astarion was sure they would burn right through his skull, though the wolf's words had been unexpectedly soft. "Watch over her, she can be anxious without me," the wolf had growled.

The memory stirred a mix of emotions - gratification at the trust being placed in him, and a flicker of unease. He wasn't fully sure he was up to the challenge of shepherding someone as guileless as Ashara.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, noting how awkwardly she sat at the table, her posture stiff and uncertain. Astarion felt an unexpected pang of protectiveness. This time alone with her was an opportunity he hadn't expected, a chance to deepen their bond without the others' constant interference. And he intended to make the most of it.

The barkeep, a burly man with a perpetually sour expression, looked up from polishing a glass. "What'll it be?"

Astarion rested an elbow on the bar, his tone breezy. "A pint of your finest... whatever it is you serve here. And perhaps a bit of conversation, if you're in the mood."

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, his thick fingers stilling on the glass. "Information costs coin, same as the ale."

"Oh, I've no doubt it does," Astarion replied, his voice dropping to a silky purr. "But one likes to know what one is paying for first."

The barkeep's mouth twisted into a humorless grin. "What do you want to know?"

"I've heard whispers of tiefling refugees passing through these parts." Astarion gestured vaguely, as if discussing the weather. "Acquaintances of mine, you see. I'm rather keen to know if they've been spotted."

The man leaned against the counter, his expression as impenetrable as stone. "Might've seen them. Might not've. Hard to remember."

Astarion sighed, pulling a coin pouch from his belt and letting it fall onto the bar with a satisfying thunk. He flashed a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I know how this goes. I jog your memory with coin, you tell me things are still a little fuzzy, I offer more, and you miraculously recall everything. So, how about we skip the foreplay and get straight to the perfect recall?"

The barkeep narrowed his eyes, his face betraying nothing but a faint glimmer of greed. "Start putting coin down, and I'll let you know when to stop."

Groaning theatrically, Astarion began plunking coins onto the bar one by one. He took his time, letting the clink of metal draw out for maximum irritation. The barkeep didn't flinch, his hand darting out to sweep up the pile as soon as it was deemed sufficient. He pocketed the money with practiced ease and began pouring a pale amber liquid into a glass.

"Tiefs ain't welcome in this town," he said gruffly, not bothering to look at Astarion. "Which is why, when a bunch of 'em came through, they were told to seek shelter at the fort instead."

Astarion's gaze flicked toward the door, his mind already calculating. "You mean that dismal-looking ruin in the valley below?"

The barkeep grunted in affirmation, his gaze sliding toward the doorway as though ensuring no one was eavesdropping. "The very same. Don't know if they're still there. Don't much care. But if it's tiefs you're after, that's your best bet."

Astarion tilted his glass in a mockery of a toast, the gleam of firelight dancing along its surface. "How thoughtful of you to provide such... charming accommodations. Do let me know if that remarkable memory of yours recalls anything else."

He set the glass down, untouched, his smile fading as soon as the barkeep turned his attention to another patron. Internally, he cursed the oversight of not checking the ruins on their way into town. The coin spent here could have bought them an extra bundle of provisions - or at least a decent bottle of wine.

Astarion turned, ready to share his information with Ashara, only to pause mid-step. She wasn't alone.

A human man sat a little to one side of her, the picture of a self-styled rogue. Broad-shouldered and muscular, he wore a leather doublet polished to an almost unnatural sheen, though its frayed edges betrayed its age. Vanity, not practicality, had clearly dictated his choice of attire.

The serpent-shaped silver pin holding back his blonde hair glinted in the dim light, a detail that struck Astarion as both ostentatious and overcompensatory. The rapier at his side hung low, more a peacock's feather than a weapon meant for true combat. Men like him preferred their prey to be lulled by words, not steel. And judging by the smug curve of his lips, he thought himself quite the predator.

Astarion's gaze flicked to Ashara. Her posture was rigid, her arms folded tightly over her chest as though shielding herself. A faint crease had formed between her brows, and her lips parted slightly, as if she were on the verge of speaking but unsure of what to say. The tension in her stance sent a pang of alarm through Astarion's chest, but he quelled it quickly, taking a step closer to eavesdrop.

"You know," the man was saying, his tone a low purr meant to disarm, "it's rare to find someone as... captivating as you in a place like this. I'd wager you're not from around here, are you?"

Ashara shook her head, her voice steady but wary. "No. My friend and I are just passing through. We're here for supplies."

"Ah, travelers," the man murmured, leaning in as though sharing a secret. "That explains the wildness in you. Untamed, unspoiled." His gaze swept over her appraisingly, and Astarion's jaw clenched at the unabashed leer. "I imagine you've turned a few heads in your time."

Ashara blinked, her expression blank but genuine. "I haven't seen anyone turning their heads. Though I suppose people do glance at me occasionally..."

The man chuckled, the sound a little too polished, a little too rehearsed. "And why wouldn't they? The attention you draw. It's... magnetic."

"Magnetic?" she repeated. "I don't think so. Most people have been avoiding me."

"They're intimidated, no doubt," the man said smoothly, his voice taking on a coaxing quality. "A strong, striking woman like you - most men don't know how to handle that. But me? I know exactly what to do with a challenge."

Ashara tilted her head, her expression a blend of puzzlement and polite curiosity. "I'm not sure I understand. Are you saying you're... good at fighting strong women?"

The man's confident veneer cracked, and a shadow of irritation crept into his smile. "Not fighting, darling. More like... taming. I've a talent for making even the wildest creatures... purr."

Astarion felt his fists curl involuntarily at the overt implication, his nails biting into his palms. The man's oily confidence grated against his nerves like sandpaper. He took a step forward, ready to intervene, but before he could speak, Ashara's expression brightened with sudden excitement.

"Purr? Oh, you must mean cats!" Her voice lifted with genuine interest, her eyes alight. "Have you ever tamed a panther? They're beautiful, but I suppose they wouldn't be very useful in a place like this. Do you work with animals often?"

The man's smirk froze in place, his expression rapidly shifting from suave to utterly baffled. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again like a fish out of water, clearly struggling to recalibrate.

Astarion bit back a laugh, his irritation melting into something far more satisfying - amusement. He leaned against the bar, crossing his arms as he watched the exchange unfold, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely contained mirth. Ashara's clueless response had thrown the man entirely off balance, his calculated flirtation crumbling under the weight of her earnest misunderstanding.

He rallied quickly, though, leaning in as if to close the distance between them might lend weight to his words.

"Animals? No, not quite." His voice dropped to what he clearly thought was a seductive lilt. "I was referring to you. I imagine someone as fiery as you has... needs. Needs only a man of certain talents can fulfill."

Astarion felt a sharp pang of disgust coil in his chest. The line was too familiar, dredging up memories of similar words he had whispered to unsuspecting targets, back when charm was his weapon and his survival depended on its sharpness. Hearing it now, from the other side, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Ashara, meanwhile, pursed her lips into a thin line, her expression thoughtful. "Needs? If you're talking about food or supplies, then I've already got enough. I do need to find a good shortbow for my new friend, though. Would you be able to help me with that?"

The man chuckled, clearly mistaking her obliviousness for coyness. "Not exactly. Though I can show you something that would make your trip worthwhile." He reached out, letting his fingers brush lightly against her arm. "I'm quite the hunter myself, you see. And once I've caught what I'm after, I'm known to be... very thorough."

Ashara glanced down at his hand with mild irritation, casually sliding her arm out of reach. Her movement was small but deliberate, her patience clearly wearing thin. The man either didn't notice or didn't care, his grin widening as he pressed on.

"You know," he continued, his voice taking on a silkier, more dangerous edge, "if you're not busy, I could show you some of my hunting techniques. One-on-one. Somewhere a little more... private."

"I'm not really planning on staying here long," Ashara replied, her tone polite but firm. "I can't go anywhere with you - I have to get back to my companions soon. Besides, I don't even know your name."

Astarion bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright. The man's confident facade was starting to crack, and Ashara - completely unaware of the innuendo - was effortlessly unraveling him. The man, however, wasn't deterred. If anything, his frustration seemed to harden into something darker.

"Cassius," he said, his grin stiffening into something colder, more forced. "That's the name people call me around here. And I can promise you, darling, by the end of the night, you'll be screaming it."

Ashara tilted her head again, her confusion deepening. "Why would I do that?"

Cassius's face darkened, his cheeks flushing an angry red as he reached for her arm. "Now listen here, you little wench-"

Astarion's lip curled. That was enough.

He moved before he even realized he had decided to act. In two fluid strides, Astarion closed the distance, standing between Ashara and Cassius.

The man's gaze snapped to him, his expression darkening, but Astarion met it with a lazy, predatory grin that spoke volumes.

"Do carry on," Astarion said smoothly, his voice laced with mock encouragement. "I'd hate to interrupt such a fascinating display of verbal gymnastics."

Cassius scowled, his irritation now fully directed at Astarion. "And who the hell are you?"

"An interested party," Astarion replied. "Please, continue. I'm simply dying to see how you intend to explain yourself."

Cassius sneered, but when he turned back to Ashara, his tone had lost its practiced charm, replaced by something sharper, uglier. "Don't play coy, sweetheart - it doesn't suit you."

Ashara's eyes narrowed, a flicker of steel in her voice as she said, "I don't appreciate being called 'sweetheart.' I suggest you explain yourself clearly or move along."

The man's mask slipped entirely, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Fine. I'm saying I can give you pleasure like you've never experienced before - the kind only a real man knows how to give, unlike this lanky fairy."

The insult barely registered before Astarion's lips curved into dangerous smile. "Well," he drawled, "this 'lanky fairy' is currently debating whether you're worth the effort of killing." His voice was light, almost conversational, but his gaze was as cold as frostbite. He stepped forward with blinding speed, one arm draping over Cassius's shoulder in a mock-friendly gesture that masked the movement of his other hand.

A blade pressed lightly against Cassius's neck, the pressure just enough to let him feel its bite. "And I must say," Astarion murmured, his voice low and intimate, "you're making a very compelling argument for it."

"You see," Astarion continued, "this fine young woman happens to be under my protection. And you, my dear, are about two sentences away from having that rapier shoved somewhere profoundly inconvenient."

Cassius's skin turned ashen, the blood draining from his face as the implications of Astarion's words - and the cold kiss of the blade at his throat - sank in. His bravado crumbled, replaced by a mixture of fear and fury.

"You've got no idea who you're dealing with, elf," he spat, though the quaver in his voice betrayed him.

"Oh, I know exactly who I'm dealing with," Astarion said, his smile never wavering. "A petty predator dressed up in cheap charm and borrowed manners. Now, I suggest you slink back to whatever hole you crawled out of before this becomes... messy."

The human's eyes darted around the room, gauging the growing interest of the tavern patrons. Their murmurs filled the smoky air, a low hum of curiosity tinged with unease. His lip curled in disdain as he spat out, "Bitch isn't worth the trouble."

Astarion's chuckle was low and mocking as he eased the dagger away from the man's neck with deliberate slowness, the faint whisper of steel against leather underscoring his reply. "Oh, I assure you, she's worth more than you could ever afford."

Cassius surged to his feet, his hand twitching toward the hilt of his rapier. Astarion tilted his head, his smile deepening into something sharper, more predatory, and let his fangs glint ever so slightly in the dim light. "Go on," he whispered, the words a silken dare, "I'm just itching for a decent bloodbath."

The tension crackled like a bowstring pulled taut, but after a moment, Cassius's bravado faltered. His mouth twisted into a snarl, and he spat, "You haven't heard the last of me." He turned on his heel, shoving past a few curious onlookers on his way to the door.

Astarion sheathed his dagger with a flick of his wrist and turned to Ashara, who stood watching the man's retreat with a calm but thoughtful expression. She tapped a finger against her lips, her brows knitting slightly.

"He was... odd," she said at last. "He was using a lot of metaphors, but I couldn't figure out what he wanted."

Astarion arched an elegant brow, his grin tugging wider. "Oh, sweet Ashara," he drawled, his tone caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. "You're either more innocent than I thought or far cleverer than you let on. Either way, that was utterly delightful."

She frowned, clearly unsure whether to take his words as a compliment, but before she could reply, he gestured toward the door with a flourish. "Come now, darling. Let's not linger. I'm sure your admirer will be sulking in some alleyway, plotting his next attempt at mediocrity."

Ashara allowed herself to be ushered outside, the tavern's warm, smoky air giving way to the crisp bite of an overcast afternoon. The cobblestones were warm underfoot, and the faint breeze carried with it the scent of baking pies and the metallic tang of the nearby forges. Children darted between stalls, their laughter mingling with the clamor of bartering voices.

Ashara glanced sideways at Astarion, her arms still loosely crossed as she mulled over the encounter. "Why do people talk around things like that?" she asked suddenly, her tone carrying a trace of irritation. "Why not just say what they want?"

Astarion slid his hands into his pockets, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd with practiced ease. "Some people," he said lightly, "rely on ambiguity because it allows them to slither away when things don't go their way. Like that one just did. A vague proposition is easier to deny than a direct one."

Ashara exhaled slowly, the corners of her mouth pulling into a faint frown. "Let's just take what we have and leave," she muttered. "I don't want to deal with any more... misunderstandings."

Astarion chuckled, the sound rich and warm. His crimson eyes gleamed with mischief as he replied, "Darling, with you, misunderstandings are half the fun."

Hands up anyone who's had to deal with a creep like Cassius? If you want to read more of this chapter, then check out the link below.

[jojoma]

Some time ago I wrote out points why I ship Astarion with Karlach (them remains my favorite and headcanonical ship in the entire game). But I understand how conflicting and possibly traumatic the relationship is. I wanted to write a lil bit about this. But it'll be a long post 😁

The game is currently bugged in such a way that the couple doesn't have a happy end (in my opinion, cuz Karlach return to Avernus only with AA), but there is an absolutely sad ending (when spawn Astarion runs away from the sun and Karlach die alone). I, like many other hellspawn enjoyers (snezhjeyka, decembersiris), thought about how much it would be better if they died together on the pier. At least it's better than what is happening in the spawn Astarion playthrough by now (described above). They both are deprived of a normal life, both refuse to live without what is valuable to them (Faerûn, sun) and without each other, and both turn to dust. It's very poetic, tragic and etc. But I'm more interested in angst before this.

I mean only the player knows all the variations of events. For example, that Karlach can be fixed or that Karlach cannot be turned into a vampire. The relationship has no prospects from their points of view, and the options that they have cannot completely satisfy both.

Karlach dies quite quickly. She can die in her beloved world or try to survive in the hells. And we all know what Karlach think about it — she would rather die now and here. But as soon as Karlach start relationship with someone, it becomes also her lover’s problem. It would be strange if her partner accepted that Karlach would die so soon without even trying to convince her. Now put Astarion into this place: he is just beginning to heal and feel alive. Even before he defeat Cazador, loving relationship with a patient and gentle partner (such as Karlach) can influence him in a good way. So Astarion is afraid to lose his lover and Karlach is afraid to return to Zariel’s place.

On the other hand, Astarion needs to decide what he'll do with the ritual and soon enough. And unlike Karlach, he doesn't know what to do. In my opinion, if Astarion could make the choice on his own, based on background he would be choose ascension. The decisive factor in the other direction can only be his love interest. My strong headcanon is this: as Astarion will not agree with her early death, as Karlach will never agree to become his spawn (10 years of slavery to Zariel was enough for my babygirl). And any of other companions or Tav/Durge as Astarion's lover can offer to stay with him, help him full recover and adapt to a new life (anyway spawn Astarion will be alone in the future). Karlach doesn't have such opportunity at the moment, and her condition lead into the hell with no guarantee of survival or return to Faerûn. It requires some sacrifices from Astarion, which due to his condition, he may not be ready for.

I can imagine such dialogues before bedtime, turning into heated disputes:

— I'm worried about your condition, Karlach. — I don't want to talk about it. — There's other options. I think you should return to Avernus with me. — Well, and I think you shouldn't get involved to the ascension ritual. I know you want to take Cazador's place. — It's not up to you to decide. This way I can protect you and may even save you by turning you into a vampire. — I'll never become yours or anyone else's spawn, thank you!

I need to stop making myself sad 😢 They deserve a very very happy end.

[wee-chlo]

Gale asking mindflayer!Durge if they'd ever thought of eating his brain. Durge is silent for long enough that Gale worries it was a rude question.

Then Durge is like Gale, you're an incredibly intelligent, well-read wizard who's traveled extensively and lain with the literal goddess of magic. Of course I've thought about eating your brain. Eating your brain would be absolutely delightful.

"Oh," Gale says, torn between being flattered and being mildly horrified.

Of course, I never would, Durge says firmly. I'd rather throw myself into the Grymforge than hurt you. But you'd be very filling. And delectable.

"I see." Durge is quiet, and Gale assumes that the conversation is done.

I've also thought about... well... Durge fidgets with her hands, and Gale opens his mind a little to feel the anxiety. Muted by the alien nature of Durge's mind, but present nonetheless.

"Go on," Gale says encouragingly. "Judgement free zone, as always, my love." A pulse of affection, a cool, rubbery hand giving his own a squeeze.

I was always going to outlive you, Durge begins. I was a half-elf, and not old. You are human and you were... late thirties, when we met? On average, you had approximately fifty to sixty years left, barring any magical acts to increase longevity. As a half-elf, my average lifespan would be near one hundred and fifty years.

When I became a mindflayer, the clock reset, so to speak. If I remain on the material plane, where time is reasonably linear, I'll live approximately one hundred and twenty-five years.

Here Durge pauses, and Gale can't bring himself to interrupt. Because while the voice that echoes in his head is fairly flat, monotone as ever, the emotions rolling off of her that he senses psionically are agony. Grief, terror, anxiety.

When you die, she continues. I have no idea what I'll do. You've always been... well, when I was a half-elf, I was also a Bhaalspawn. When I wanted to make the right decision, I couldn't trust myself. So I'd look to you. If you approved, I knew I was doing the right thing. Because you're a good person.

She says it so simply. So frankly. As if it is a given, a fact of life. The sky is blue, fire is hot, Gale Dekarios is a good person.

It's not fair to you, she said, nonsensically. But it has always been that way. And now, I am most... myself when I'm with you. There are times when I feel like a liar. Like I'm tricking you all into believing the person who you loved is still here. But with you, I feel like myself. Like it isn't a trick.

When you're gone, what will happen? Will I forget what it means to be me? Will one day I go to visit Astarion or Lae'zel or Halsin and and they'll realize they're talking to a stranger?

"Darling," Gale says. Durge pauses, waiting for him to continue, but he finds that he can't. He doesn't know what to say.

When I consume the brains of humanoids, small pieces of them remain, Durge continues. For example, I find the taste of certain herbs have changed. You use one frequently that now tastes strongly of soap.

"You could have mentioned that!" Gale says, alarmed. "That's the coriander; I could have-"

I am not finished, Gale. It's gently said, but Gale shuts up as swiftly as if she'd covered his mouth with her hand.

I... have often wondered if the effect would be stronger with someone who I share a strong bond with, she continues. Shadowheart, or...

"Me," Gale supplies, because he can tell Durge is close to shutting the conversation down from sheer emotion.

It's silly, she says. Monstrous.

"It's sweet," Gale says. "And not... necessarily something I'd be opposed to, when the time comes." Durge stares at him, alien eyes unblinking, mind shut tight. He has no idea what she thinks of that.

Tara would not be pleased, she says at length, and Gale snorts.

"She knows us. We're both mad, for each other and in general. I doubt she'd be surprised." Durge says nothing for a long while, fingers tapping arrhythmically against his hand.

If you could stop using the coriander, I would appreciate it.

"Consider the herb banished from the kitchen forthwith."

[arach-tinilith]

questions be upon ye!! (not specific to any particular character)

36. What are some situational dialogues your Tav would say when something happens to another companion or you talk to them while in a quest-specific location? (I know you've answered this question before - you can just pick a different tav or situation!)

38. If a player character asks them to consider consuming tadpoles or using the Astral tadpoles, how would your Tav respond?

39. If romanceable, what lines would your Tav say if a player character prompted them with, "Can I kiss you?"

I have not actually answered any of these yet so thank you!!! I'll answer these for Naadja 💜

36. Naady has something to say about EVERYTHING she's very chatty so i won't go through every interaction. BUT! in act 2 she has a whole journey of self discovery which is the catalyst for her rejecting the Gods. And SPECIFICALLY she has a lot to say about her companions rejecting their Gods. So, since Shadowheart, Lae'zel, and Gale all do that I'll write about those interactions!

Shadowheart: "Shadowheart seems to have some turmoil about her decision in the shadowfell. She shouldn't - at least not for disobeying Shar. If anything, I'd be wary she's replacing one Goddess for another. I've walked that road before. I hope she realizes sooner than I how pointless it is. Shadowheart doesn't need to look to others for answers. She needs not find herself in someone else."

Lae'zel: "Lae'zel is of a rational mind. While she mourns the loss of a lie, she might rejoice in the birth of her truth."

Gale: "About time our little wizard cut himself free of Mystra's coattails. He's fairly competent on his own. Though, I'm not sure he quite sees it that way, yet."

38. With the regular tadpoles, she's very eager for more power. She'd try to buddy up with tav/durge to get her hands on more so-

Tadpoles: "Well! I thought you'd never ask. I'll be sure to do you a good turn for this."

Astral tadpole: "You're not planning on asking me to use that, correct? Because I'm getting quite used to being myself and I'd hate for a pesky worm to get in the way of that."

39. Naadja REALLY appreciates a check-in for any physical touch. Especially in public, so she would be very sweet in response.

"That you even asked is worthy of a kiss"

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Bite The Hand

Astarion x F! Dark Urge

18+ feelings developing, sad durge stuff, bondage, roughness, fingering (f!) oral (f!), p-in-v, slight ass play, blood drinking, two bloodthirsty idiots falling for eachother

-

"You're sure?"

Her eyes heavy, but trusting. "Yes, wrists bound."

He had been trying to get her to spend the night with him again, though he would never admit how eager he had been.

He had become quite infatuated with her. Them being, well, together. Whatever that means. Even talking her through her little murder attempt. His murder attempt. Gods would anything ever be simple.

When he would dance around the subject of spending time alone together again he would see her jaw clench just slightly. Maybe another night. She'd reassure.

He understood her hesitation, of course. Hells she had tried to kill him in his sleep not long ago. But despite himself, he wanted to be near her. To spend time with her, away from the others.

Though her base nature was sinister, she shined with goodness. Honestly, she could do with more mean, in his opinion. Though he had been coming to understand it was a concentrated effort for her.

Only in small moments she would allow herself to dip into her malicious nature and it drove him mad. And Gods, the way she kissed him... lips plush, heavenly. She was designed to ruin men like him. He was hopelessly enthralled.

So when she had finally relented and agreed to spend the night with him, his chest thrilled. With one catch.

"Darling, I hardly think that's necessary. You know I ask before I bite."

The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile. Eyes lightened slightly. He preened at making her brighten.

"I'm serious asshole," He breathed a laugh. "It would give me peace of mind, at least."

Her eyes softening again. "I do want to spend time with you, truly. I just dont trust myself right now." Tears threatening the corners.

"I would never forgive myself if I-"

"Oh, hush," He soothed, pulling her into him gently. "I'll do it, dont worry." He murmured into her hair. Tiger lily. Blood orange. Gods, even her scent was like a drug. He resisted burying his face in her.

With the nightly insect song outside his tent, he teased her. Revelled in her.

Sitting cross legged on the floor of his tent, her wrists being expertly bound by him. He hovered around her, making like it was a sensual thing they had agreed to. Making it a game. He purred sweet words in her ear, fingers working. Vexed her. Savoured in her blush.

"You're so full of it." She laughed, the tips of her ears deliciously flushed.

He pulled his hand to his chest, mock offended. "Darling, the only thing I am full of is your hot blood." He admonished. She snorted, her foot gently kicking his side.

He had kept focus on his technique but found it difficult. The sight of her long slender hands. Silk soft. Patterns of vitiligo, light and dark. Claws long and sharp. Delicate but deadly, being bound by him.

"You seem... distracted." She smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye.

He shot her a look, only making her smile wider. Rearranged to be sitting on her knees, back arched just slightly. Oh he loved when she got like this.

"What makes you say that, my sweet?" He intoned, caging her thighs between his, rope twisting and pulling.

"You know," She leaned forward, lips delicately tickling his neck. Her heat permeating him. "You're not as slick as you think you are."

He held back a shiver as she ghosted her lips against his skin, trailing up to his ear. Her sweet voice a deadly tonic.

"You have tells, frywm wlas." He squeezed her thighs between his at the pet name.

She had teased previously that he was so pale that he was fresh snow, repeated it back to him in infernal. That she loved to see him drenched in blood in the same way. Hells below, that had fed his nighttime fantasies for weeks.

Hundreds of years of seduction had made him a master, but her... she was something else.

"These really should be behind my back you know." She mused, testing the strength of his work as he finished. Hands resting in her lap. Seemed impressed by the intricate ties.

"While I dont doubt that you can do untold damage with all of your limbs tied, I think this should be sufficient." He absentmindedly pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She looked up at him, her eyes soft. Seemed about to say something then bit it back.

"Please, indulge me." He murmured, a delicate prodding. Hand trailing to cup her cheek.

She sighed into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. "Its just, you're so gentle. I've been... well, I dont know if I've ever been touched this way."

His dead heart ached. Struck again by how similar they were.

"Is it okay? The touching, I mean." He whispered.

Her eyes seemed to swim in thought. "I think so. It feels good."

She relaxed, eyes closing again. "I dont feel sick when you touch me. It's a nice break."

His eyebrows threaded together in confusion. Sick?

Another spear through him. "Caron," He tested, "How do you usually feel?"

Her eyes opened in a flash, realizing that she had divulged something that she hadn't meant to. Lips forming a thin line.

Her eyes tried to escape his but he wouldn't let her slip away. "Caron?"

"It hurts, all the time. The nausea is worse." She shook her head gently. "I'm more used to it now, can push it to the back of my mind easier."

He wanted to say something comforting, something profound. But no words would be enough.

"It only stops when I kill. When there's violence." She smiled sadly. "Luckily there's been a lot of that lately. Imagine if we lived in a little house in Lower City... the carnage."

Her effort to lighten the mood struck him a third time. Was... he in her dreaming of the future? Felt a swell in his chest.

"Astarion?" She questioned softly. He realized he hadn't said anything. Leaving her in silence.

"I should go, this was a bad idea." She flustered quietly, started to stand.

He grabbed her hands. "Please," Eyes boring into hers. "Please dont go."

Her eyes went wide, seeing something in his expression, in the strain in his words.

"You dont have to be alone." He pulled her back.

"I dont have to be alone." Shakily, more to himself. The truth.

"And isnt it terrifying?" She smiled knowingly, tears in the corners of her eyes. Sinking back down to him.

His eyes flashed to hers. "Yes."

Pulled her strong into a kiss.

She moaned into his mouth, the softest cry. Turning her head to slot perfectly into him.

His hands in her hair, gripping her waist, her hips. He finally had something, someone. Drinking her in, gorging himself on her soft body.

Needing more, his hands met the front of her tunic, fingers flashing the buttons open.

Trailed his mouth to her neck, the space under her ear, the space where her jaw began.

Her little gaspy breaths permeated his mind. The haze of lust blinding.

"Well I'd like to help, but.." She breathed, could hear the smile in her voice. Tied hands mock straining.

"If you touched me right now I'd go mad." He warned, voice low.

Heard her breath catch. Her pupils widening to saucers.

He pulled her tunic off, now only draped helplessly around her arms. The sight of her soft flesh, ridged spikes leading him down. Her full breasts, the soft curve of her belly, the dip of her waist.

He groaned, low in his throat.

Hungry mouth encasing her hard peak, fingers pinching and rolling the other.

She arched hard into him, the skin of her sternum caressing his clavicle. Shocked again by how soft she was. Lamb's ear.

He laved his tongue up and down her nipple, panting. Already engorged by his devotion.

She writhed beneath him, pushing her chest up into his mouth. Little pleading moans. Legs wrapping around his hips.

Feeling the muscles encasing his hips he moaned. Her legs were deadly strong, he knew. Had watched her kick down a double door with ease to get in a burning building. It would take very little effort for her to gain the upper hand.

But she didn't, just clung to him like a buoy in a storm. If his touch was a relief, he'd give her as much as he could.

His fingers trailed down her front, finding her leggings offering resistance.

"Gods, why aren't you naked already?" He groaned in frustration, yanking the damned things off her plush hips.

"And whose fault is that?" She gasped between his harsh pulls.

"You're right." Leaning forward to purr in her ear. "In the future I'd prefer you come to my tent in just my camp shirt."

"Deal." She licked and bit at his ear, now within her reach.

He shuddered, much to her delight. A little triumphant moan directly in his ear.

His limbs on fire he flipped her onto her belly, her tied hands above her head. Pulled her hips up hard. Seeing the wetness already flowing out of her in rivulets.

"I warned you." He groaned low to her gasp.

"Oh no, whatever shall I do..." She teased, waving her ass back and forth at him.

He growled deep in his chest, diving on her. His mouth seeking and ravenous on her cunt.

She swore in infernal, hips quaking. Her tied hands pounding down against the ground. She pushed into him harder, hips greedy.

He was gone against her, tongue lapping and hot. A frenzy. Hooking his arm around her as her hips threatened to give out. Suckling down around her hard clit, nibbling. Smiling into her as he heard more vulgar language.

Finally coming up for air he teased his two fingers inside her, other hand gently circling her tight asshole. Reveling in the little gasp that left her.

"It seems like you want more, my hellion."

Her tail lashed around him in frustration, only deepening his smile.

"You're the devil, you know that right?" She groaned into her arm as his fingers curled into her.

He laughed at the irony. On his knees he trailed a hand down her spine, fingers picking up pace. She was so warm, a furnace against his body.

"Astarion," She groaned, hips driving into his hand. Oh he would never tire of the way she said his name.

"Yes?" He purred.

"If you dont fuck me right now I'm going to kill you."

Knew she meant it as a joke. Probably. The danger thrilled hot in his pelvis. Painfully aroused, he finally freed himself.

Lining himself up to her, gripping her hip. Heard her groan in pleasure at his rough hold.

Slowly he sank into her, hips already threatening to slam down. Gods she was perfect. The pressure unbelievable, the muscles of her gripping him already.

Fully buried, his eyes fluttered shut. Not even started and he was already in ecstasy.

"You're so beautiful." She breathed. Opening his eyes he saw that she had twisted to look at him. Her eyes glowing a haunting green in the dim light. He could always find them in the dark.

Fondness for her spilling in his chest he leaned forward, catching her around her neck. Pulling her up to him in a deep kiss.

Hips slowly starting to roll into her, he kiss her, savoring.

Her mewls into his mouth a sirens call, back arching against him. His hand still on her throat, applying gentle pressure. Other reaching down to swirl circles on her clit.

Could feel her body shaking, her clenches around him getting stronger. Still he kept a languid pace, hand on her neck arching up, pulling her throat free for him. But he didnt bite down. Not yet.

"I want you to bite me when I come." Her voice, dark. His hips stuttered, concentration briefly broken.

"Yes," Was the only response he could muster. His voice a groan.

Her gasps getting closer and closer, a birds eye view of her chest heaving. Hands straining against his bonds. Head thrown back against him, breathing in her scent fully. Hitting the back of his throat, making him salivate.

Hand a blur against her clit he couldn't take it anymore, needed to taste her, needed her to come all over him.

She tried to lurch forward as it hit her but he wouldn't let her escape. Hand still steady on her shrieking throat he bit down hard. Pulling her molten blood into his throat.

The supernova of pleasure in it hitting the back of his skull like a hammer. Eyes rolled so far back he thought he might go blind he released. Her vice grip around him wrenching him for all he was worth. A loud whimpering cry wet against her throat. Hand pulling her further back into him. Couldn't get enough, not ever.

Her tied hands swung back and hooked behind his head, holding him there as she writhed and begged. His hips still pushing into her. "The blood, the blood," She moaned, her voice a tempest as she clamped down around him in her final throes.

Sitting back on his haunches he let her fall into him. Her gasps against his chest.

She let her full weight against him, head lolling into the curve of his neck.

He hushed and cooed into her, one hand pulling the hair from her face, other freeing her from her restraint.

Her hands falling free she cupped the back of his head, holding him so sweetly.

"Can we lay down?" She asked, voice still little more than a breath.

"Of course." He crooned, pulling her down onto his bedroll. Laying on his side next to her.

"Oh come on," She groaned in frustration. Pulling him into her, their limbs tangling.

He blinked, about to pull away but her hand gently scratching his scalp melted him. His head coming to rest on her chest. The drum of her heartbeat a song. So so warm.

They lay like that a while, a tranquil silence. Intertwined bodies finding eachother.

"Thank you." She whispered, could hear her heart picking up speed. "For trusting me."

He huffed against her. "I could say the same. You're not uniquely troubled, you martyr." Her laugh shaking his head.

"But you're welcome. It's easy with you."

~

Part 3

[shaykai]

6 Songs Tag Game!

Thank you @flamemittens for the tag!

Tagging: @doctorwiggles and anyone else who would like to do this ^^

This is for Vat’il, my Durge <3

1. An event that defines your characters past

I am in trouble trouble trouble And I don't believe We could ever agree That's why I'll do anything To keep myself away from me Maybe when I'm out of sight I'll see me in a better light (…) Say hello to the bliss of a disembodied mind

2. How your character sees themselves

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones And all the kids cried out "Please, stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy Goddamn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

(Honorable mention to Top of My School by Katherine Lynn-Rose and God by Jake Daniels)

3. How others view them

You’re no good, you’re no good You could kill me and you should I’m an idiot for thinking this was anything but blood

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Pretty please, come on over and ruin my life Take my hand While we dance on the edge of a knife

4.B Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

I'll fake God today Hop up on a cloud and watch the world decay Ana on my shoulders and we'll laugh away

5. Major fight scene

There aren’t any lyrics to this, it’s just a good song <3

6. End Credits Song

Over and over I fuck myself over And under and under I do it again

[whathebeep]

The New Durge Epilogue (Spoilers OBVI cause I need to write a different ending for that) (this is super self indulgent but also if it's well received maybe I'll make a fic of it??) Astarion Romance centered!

Explanation of the dark urge route I have in mind under the cut- I'll probably do a true evil one another time but this is more chaotic good so all the companions are there!

More or less this will be based on a good Durge who took Bhaal's blessing and became an undead assassin in order to stop the netherbrain. Did this from the perspective of " We're not strong enough to stop the brain but if I submit myself to the urge and take the power we have a better chance." Sacrifice for the greater good type idea, with the goal of fixing it somehow after the brain is gone.

Six months ago, they disappeared. 6 months ago they had transformed into the slayer as Bhaal's chosen and destroyed the nether brain, goring it with its claws and teeth to ensure the grand design would never come to pass. When everyone regrouped on the docks, those who remained were off to celebrate. But at some point the group realized their bhaalspawn friend was gone, nowhere to be found.

It was easy to tell that the murders in the city were of someone's doing- murders that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the dead who fell from the ilithid attacks and toppled buildings- but despite those who remained in Baldur's Gate trying to find you, it was to no avail.

And then came a letter in the mail.

All gathered at the original campsite to celebrate- Wyll and Karlach returned from the hells, Astarion from the Underdark. Gale from his prestigious teaching position, Halsin from the now former shadowlands, Shadowheart from her wandering adventures. Lae'zel's projection was there too, as were Minsc and Jaheira, two grand heroes who were more than proud to see the next generation of heroes gathered.

Yet there was still a missing presence at the camp. Friends reminisced about you, others kept silent and masked their sorrows about your missing presence in a bottle of wine. Withers gave his toast and praised everyone for their parts in saving the world and everyone drank to that. Mirth and good tidings were in the air as everyone drank to their victories...it was Astarion who spotted them. He dropped the bottle he had and it shattered on the ground as he stared, and the others turned to look too. The music stopped and all was silent.

Lumbering over the log was you. It was you! Shadowheart called out for you but was stopped short by Halsin, a firm hand on her shoulder.

In your hand you held a blade- one just like Orin's. Dried blood and dirty stained your old camp clothes, and your otherwise cheery bright eyes glowed red. You lumbered forward, white knuckling your dagger.

It wasn't one of your companions who broke the silence, no- it was Withers.

" You're foolish to have brought them here, Bhaal."

The way Durge twitched, it was clear more than ever as they came into the light what had happened. You had been consumed by your urge, a far greater mad dog than Orin had ever been. Orin at least had her wits about her, but you, here and now? All that you were now was a puppet for Bhaal.

Tears seared from Karlach as they singed away the second they fell. " Soldier..."

Withers approached first, if not slowly.

" Here they are amongst friends. Among memories of goodness and mirth. While here they were free from you, free from their birth right as bhaalspawn. Bhaal, you are but a fool for bringing them here. They may have made their choice and sacrificed everything to be your chosen, to be gifted the power to end the netherbrain...but by bringing them here, there is but a chance to save them. Their destiny is not yours to stitch, god of murder...but their own. That much they are owed. I, however, cannot intervene. These comrades, friends, fellow heroes...they can."

It took the strength of the whole group to bring you down - to stop the slayer form you had changed into and force you into bindings strong enough to keep you still.

While recovering and healing from their injuries, the mood throughout the camp was somber. Seeing you like this, a shell of your former self, it hurt. It hurt so many that cared and loved you.

Withers helped keep you restrained and brought you to his workshop while the others discussed options- discussed how to save you from this unforgiving fate. Jaheira, Halsin and even Gale spoke of magical means- how to potentially ask Silvanus to aid you or even find a magical means to remove Bhaal's hold over you. Shadowheart suggested potentially reaching out to Dame Alin and Isobel to see about intervention from Selune.

Wyll comforted Karlach, who was still rather injured and still overwhelmed by what had happened.

Astarion was the one who spoke up that until an answer was found, that you would need to be kept under watch and key, perhaps even by one of them. No jail held by mere guards in any city would be well fortified enough. That's when Withers returned, Scratch by his side.

" I believe our furry friend has found a solution for that." In his hand he raised the astral prism. The very device that imprisoned Orpheus, that housed the Emperor and kept the party safe from the tadpoles in their brains.

" Are you...are you really suggesting we cage them in there until we find an answer?" Astarion asked in disbelief, and he nodded.

"It is the strongest prison we all know of...and we would have the time we need to find an answer." Gale frowned as he spoke up. This situation wasn't to anyone's likings, but it was better than leaving you out and at risk of killing more.

" And what are we to do if there is no saving them?" Jaheira spoke up, arms crossed. " What if we are delaying the inevitable for them? Would it not be best to end their suffering?" She motioned to you on the ground, and Minsc spoke immediately.

" Are they not worth the attempt? Did they not save each and every one of us?" He motioned amongst the group. " Astarion, Minsc is sure they helped you be free of Cazador. And Minsc is sure they saved bear Halsin from a cage! And did they not do everything they could to save our fire hearted friend from burning to crisp?"

Words of agreement rose from the others in the group. " They sacrificed everything...even succumbing to their birthright as Bhaalspawn to save Baldur's Gate- to save the world from the Absolute and the Brain. We will do everything we can to save them, as they had done for us." Halsin spoke to the group, and all were in agreement. Even Karlach spoke up.

" I might not be of much help in the hells, but we'll help as soon as we can. That much I can promise."

"I will come assist as soon as possible. The war against the Lich Queen will be concluded as fast as possible- but if my direct aid is ever needed, do not hesitate to call on me." Lae'zel spoke- even she had showed up as soon as the fighting started.

Wyll agreed with a nod. " They helped save me from my contract and my father...many of us wouldn't have our freedom without them. It's only right we help fight for theirs." With the overall agreement, Withers stepped forward and his hands glowed once more. A light green hue filled the astral prism and then enveloped you, your bound body turning to mist and being sent inside. After a few moments his hands stopped glowing, but the glow of the prism remained- this time a deep red.

" They are healed and bound inside now. They will not be able to leave, but if needed to any of you may travel inside if not to check on their condition. However...one of you must carry the prism with you. I cannot be the keeper of it." Those in the group looked uncertain. Discussions rose amongst the group of what to do, how to proceed- some outright couldn't. Halsin couldn't due to the children- Lae'zel, Wyll and Karlach couldn't - bringing you and potentially losing the prism in another plane would be disastrous.

It was then that Astarion finally spoke again. He had been the closest to you, your nearest and dearest friend and lover. He had been keeping his feelings all under wraps but there was no denying the remorse painted on the vampire's face. He had missed you- he still misses you.

" I will. I'll keep them with me in the Underdark. There's more than enough vampire spawn down there who I trust are strong enough to help guard it- not that I would let it leave my person." Withers nods, handing over the prism to Astarion. The pale vampire stares down at it, running his thumb over the runes on it. He bites back his tears. " We...we should all get some rest and discuss this in the morning. Please."

Everyone turns to their cots that night, and Astarion retreats to his tent to sleep as well- he'll get up with the others, but will need to be mindful of the sun as it rises. The prism is kept close to his chest as he curls up to sleep, tears falling from his face.

They have to save you- they WILL save you, if it's the last thing he ever does.

[alliskit]

The Grand Design.

On AO3.

TW: 18+. THE NEXT SEVERAL CHAPTERS will include depictions of abuse and violence. It addresses sexual abuse themes and includes explicit sexual content. Sadly, I wouldn’t suggest skipping it this chapter, but pieces of it will be addressed within other chapters. As for the others I will leave a notice for what to skip.

Song I had on repeat while writing this:

CH. 7: Vanpires Ar Reall.

- The Prelude - The Show - The Encore (Astarion POV)

There are so many eventualities that I could have planned for, but this. The week from utter hell. This never could have plagued my already dark imaginations. It is natural for me to think the worst, for survival purposes, but when I was surprised by something much scarier than I could have ever dreamt, it threw me.

[Astarion Note: Yes, I give you express permission to break our pact so you may include and take to print the events that occurred. They were just as much a living nightmare for me, but I had already lived a much worse one. I'm so sorry, always.]

We set down for the night in an ancient druid sanctuary under a large tree canopy. We decided we needed come up with a better strategy to approach the hag in her own domain. What did we have that could be used to bargain and were we equipped to take her on if things went south?

Wyll took up cooking duties so Gale could study up on different hags and their powers. The evening was somber and quiet. Most of my companions spent the evening sharpening weapons and checking spells. Wyll took a walk after dinner. Gale said it was to probably converse with his patron on how to deal with the hag, if Wyll could still communicate with them under the tadpole's interference.

The moon was bright through the branches, sky clear. It was beautiful. I could feel the tension of my camp mates, even if I had no real sense of what we were going to deal with. I sat down next to Gale, watching Astarion and Durge chat in front of the tent beside his.

"How's the study?"

He peeked up from his book propped in his lap. "It's... Well, I'm not quite sure what to expect. I would rather not have any dealings with a hag, but she didn't make any promises to get you home, so I'm inclined to think this may be a more peaceful encounter."

"What should we expect?" I watched Astarion tap a finger on Durge's chest, then make a snarky face, flirting. 

"We should expect that she doesn't think we know she's a hag, but when we request something of her, she will reveal what she is and expect payment of some kind. Usually, it is something hard to pay."

I nodded, "Well, she is the one who made the offer, so maybe she'll be amiable. Maybe, she won't ask for anything."

He watched me blankly, "Doubtful, but I like your positivity."

I tapped his knee with my hand. "Your food is probably cold by now. Don't waste it." I thumbed toward the bowl of soup sitting on the edge of the rug. 

He looked at it, then went back to his book, "I'll get around to it." Then more to himself, "Wouldn't want to disappoint Tara."

"Who's Tara?"

His eyes shot to me, "Oh, I didn't mean to say that out loud. She's my tressym."

"A tressym?"

He smiled, "Only the best animals there are. Very intelligent and gifted wielders."

"Animals can wield magic?"

He hummed, "Oh, yes. But, very few. Tressyms are one such exceptional beings. I summoned her myself and she never left my side. Well, she didn't join me at the Academy or Blackstaff, but was close by, nonetheless."

"What do they look like?" He seemed to be talking around something or he forgot I wouldn't have any frame of reference.

"I take it there are no tressyms on your planet."

I shook my head. 

"Gosh, what a drab plane of existence... no tressyms. Well, they look like house cats with wings." He rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head in disbelief.

"We have something similar in mythology, like the sphinx, but no, we don't have them forreal."

"Very sad, indeed. If we get ourselves out of this mess, and you have found it in yourself to have a little adventure before you pop home, time willing, I could..." His eyes searched mine, like he was looking for something, hoping, as he said the rest of his thought. "Introduce you to her in Waterdeep. Waterdeep is called the City of Splendors for a reason." His mouth lifted in a soft smile as he watched me. 

I watched him back. I wasn't sure why he would seem nervous about the idea of introducing me to his pet, but sometimes people viewed their pets much like a child. I wouldn't introduce just anyone to Sylas. I smiled back, "I'd like that. I take it's on the water?"

A playful glint lit his eyes, "Yes, very much so. As is my tower. The waves crash below the portico and you can watch the sunset over the ocean."

Impressive, and definitely something I wanted to see, "Well, if you're offering to host, I'll have to take you up on the offer. It sounds enchanting."

The playful glint faded into something pleased. "I think she would really like you."

I watched him a moment, considering everything he'd said to describe his cat, "Does she talk?"

He laughed. "In a way. When a tressym has bonded with someone, you can hear them without a spell or potion, otherwise you'll need to cast speak with animals."

"Ah, interesting. I wish we had bonds like that back home. Would solve a lot of problems. Though, I imagine I'd just hear my dog asking for a ball or outside a hundred times a day."

He smiled, "Oh, she definitely is quite insistent at meal times."

"Sounds like a cat."

His brow perked, "She's so much more."

"All pet owners think that. I would know. I'm guilty of it too."

He bumped me with an elbow, "I should get back to it. I would hate to be literally blindsided."

I pushed to standing, noticing Astarion and Durge again. They were still getting cozy, Astarion leaning in a little more as he spoke low. I left them to it. Better they have each other than have Durge lean on me. 

Though, as I passed them, I heard a small whistle. I turned to see Durge wink and wave in my direction. Astarion watched Durge, annoyed. I bid them both goodnight.

The rest of the night was uneventful. My sleep was as dismal as it had been the last few days.

I could have cursed the sun for rising. I hoped, due to the immense stress of my latest adventure, it might delay the inevitable. But, no. The inevitable was exactly on time, with the worst timing imaginable: I had my period.

Luckily, it wouldn’t be heavy for another day or so. I had time to ask Shadowheart or Lae’zel about options, if they even bled to begin with. It would be just my luck if neither of their races had to deal with this regularly.

We had a quick breakfast and made our way back through the swamp. Gale perked up when we located a waypoint. "If this does go well, and you feel safe staying behind, we can, hopefully, get you back much quicker this way."

I eyed the purple runes. "Will it work on me?"

He paused. The others watched him. "Actually... I'm not sure. Possibly not. I guess we will have to see at another time."

We continued on our way. We came upon three staircases. A voice called to us from the top of the stone one to our left. Waiting and waving was a smiling worn traveler armed with a large crossbow.

"Excuse the aroma: powdered iron-vine."

Wyll pushed through the group to the front, his pack jostling with the movement, "An old hunter's trick."

"Yes, if you can't mask your scent, spoil it."

Wyll put out his hand, "The Blade of Frontiers, at your service."

The man shook it, "It's nice to put a face to the name."

A voice cut in from the back of the group: Astarion. "You're a monster hunter? I thought all Gur were vagrant cutthroats."

The rest of us flipped our heads to our companion, confused and surprised at the sudden bigotry and the fact he felt the need to speak up at all.

The man laughed, unphased by the prejudice. "And more. We steal chickens, curse crops, seduce your daughters. If only my people had half the powers others think we possess. Alas, we are simple wanderers. I'm a simple wanderer and monster hunter."

"What monster are you hunting?" Wyll asked.

"I'm hunting a vampire spawn."

Wyll twisted back to us, "See I told you! It was a vampire bite. I'm not an idiot."

There was a round of rolled eyes and guffaws. 

"You've seen proof of the spawn in the area? How long ago and where?" The hunter's interest was piqued.

"Up past Moonhaven to the east. There's a grove nearby and there was a boar drained along the road," Wyll replied.

"Oh that's most helpful. I came to seek the hag of these lands to help me flush him out. I feared he'd gone to ground."

"A vampire spawn? But, why?" Astarion asked from behind me.

"Why does it matter?" Shadowheart probed, watching him.

He pierced her with a look. "It seems so specific. There's so many monsters out here."

The hunter smiled softly, "Vampires are parasites and we don't need a reason to destroy them. In this case, it's a sacred mission from the head of my tribe. She has sent me to capture it and return it to her."

Astarion hummed, "Why capture? And bring it where?"

We were all watching Astarion again. Why was he so invested in a random stranger when he was barely interested in the companions he had known for several days? It's not as if he were asking us about our lives. He hadn't talked to us much besides random teasing and shallow meal talk, with an exception to Durge.

"Baldur's Gate."

Wyll lit up, "You're from the Gate?"

As he and the man spoke about the city, which they were both from, I eyed Astarion. He noticed, his eyes narrowing, "Like what you see?" he said harshly.

I didn't reply. I turned back around, but I heard Durge speak to him, "Do calm down, you're positively twitching."

I heard Wyll ask how, Gandrel, now introduced, would catch a vampire spawn. Wyll clearly wanted to make a point to rest of us. "At night, of course." The reply earned snickers and smirks as Wyll stuffed his ire. Gandrel noticed the response and patted Wyll on the shoulder. "But, I can say no more, some trade secrets we cannot share and are best learned."

"How sensible," Astarion quipped.

Everyone eyed him again. Why Astarion felt the need to continue to respond was getting more curious. 

"We should go, we have a hag to see. But, you have fun tracking your monster," he said through the phoniest smile I had ever seen.

Wyll turned and invited Gandrel to join us. I watched Astarion's smarmy mask drop, anxiety in its place. He quickly recovered when Gandrel denied the offer remarking about needing to go his own way to focus on his hunt. Astarion was the first to turn tail and head up toward the next set of stairs. 

I lead us in, since seeing the hag was my idea. The treehouse was a bit down trodden, but quite cute. If I were to live in a tiny fantasy cottage wrapped around a tree, it would have looked very similar. 

I knocked on the doors. The kind voice replied from within, "Come in, come in!"

The inside was just as cozy. The older woman stood before the stone hearth. It looked like she had some tea on. She flicked her gaze to me, lighting up in recognition, "Oh, sweetie, you came! Let me pour you... Oh and you brought friends. Wonderful."

She scurried up the stairs and wrapped me in an embrace. I couldn't help it, she reminded me again so much of my own grandmother, I held her back. I smiled at her as I pulled back, "Remind me your name again?"

"Ethel, but you may call me Auntie, petal," she said rubbing her hand down my arm. "Introduce me to your friends."

I named everyone off as she smiled and nodded along. "I hope the trip in wasn't too harsh. I'm glad you're all in one piece."

I paused, catching her insinuation. Considering I could see all the traps hidden in the muck, I wondered if she thought we couldn't.  I did my best to pretend like I didn't catch her veiled threat. Some of my companions, like Lae'zel, didn't hide their understanding as they watched the woman carefully.

I smiled at her, "These guys are just my chaperones, but I came to talk to you about my predicament since you offered to give me some direction. Do you mind if they set down to rest a little while you and I talk?" 

She nodded kindly at the rest, "Of course, sweetie. Everyone can take a load off, take a nap, talk a walk if you like. I have a kettle on if any of you would like tea. Also, that basket over there is full of apples. Feel free to take one."

I watched my companions spread out. Gale came up next to me, joining Ethel and I. He held his hand to her, "Gale of Waterdeep. I'm a wizard. I can sense a touch of the wilds about you. As another wielder, I am interested in helping our mutual friend find solutions to her problem."

Ethel shook his hand, patting the top, "It is always a pleasure to make an acquaintance with another who is in touch with the Weave. Feel free to give any advice. I'm an old woman, but willing to learn new things. Who knows, she may have found a solution already in your capable hands."

Gale's cheeks heated, "Thank you, Ethel."

"Call me, Auntie."

He nodded as we followed her to a small table at the hearth. She poured us tea as I began to recount my adventures on the Nautiloid and the aftermath. Ethel and Gale eyed each other, faces a bit drawn over what I was saying. 

Ethel laid a hand on my shoulder, leaning towards me, "You've been through so much. Your bravery should be commended. Nautiliods, from the limited knowledge I have, can cross planes. Mind Flayers are from outside of our world as well. I know of portals to cross planes to places directly connected to Toril, like the Feywilds. But, I have never heard of such that cross to planes that are not somehow attached to our own. Though, Earth may simply be one we have yet to record."

Gale nodded, "Mind Flayers are originally from outside our realm, but have made homes here in the material plane, the Astral, and the Shadowfell." Gale leaned on his elbow, supporting his chin with his hand. "I wonder, since the ship did portal through the hells, if the hells aren't the access point. Some planes we can only access from a middle ground. Evereska is essentially a way station between Faerun and the Feywilds, it exists in both and is the only way in."

Both sat speculating to themselves. I spoke up, "Okay, so theories are that either Earth just hasn't been accessed enough to have been written down, maybe it was accessed but those who hopped back and forth thought it was still Toril?"

"That or they were trapped on your end," Gale added.

"Yeah that tracks with some of our conspiracies. The other is that there is a middle plane, like a link between us."

He and Ethel nodded. 

"Okay, so how do we test the theories?"

Ethel tipped her head back and forth, then turned to me, "Portals are big magic. Very time consuming and often are only granted access by the gods or by those with exceptional gifts. I will 'toot my own horn' so to speak that I am one such, but I deal more with portals that move between this realm. I can do some research and some trials, but for the work necessary, I will need payment. I understand you aren't from here, so I am willing to barter creatively."

She put it so nicely, but my heart started to tick in my chest. The familiar throb causing my breath to go shallow. What would she want of me? What could I even offer her? 

Gale saved me. "I can start the research on the hells and if there are any mentions of external planes yet to be understood. Rumors of rumors, so to speak. I can do a sending and see if some colleagues can't help out."

I nodded, "Thank you guys." I turned to Ethel, trying to keep calm, "What were you thinking for payment because, you're right, I have no gold to my name."

She smiled kindly, "Give me the rest of the day. Come back tomorrow and I will have a better idea. I promise it won't be something you can't deliver on."

She offered us more tea, but we declined and made our way back out into the swamp. We waved up at Gandrel as we turned up the opposite stairs, finding a dry spot to set up camp near the treehouse. 

The afternoon was spent behind books or off on walks and finally around the campfire for our meal. The companions watched me at different times. The anxiety induced chest pain hadn't subsided. It was consuming my attention. I found myself habitually rubbing across my diaphragm or stretching just to make space for more air.

I didn't eat much and kept playing out the conversation with Ethel and Gale. I needed some answers to try to help the small spiral I was swirling into. I found Gale flipping through more books again.

I wanted to hug him. He had his own issues to deal with. He didn't need to be worrying about mine. Though, maybe this gave him a focus from the impending doom he felt over his parasite problem. 

I plopped down next to him, "Thanks again for today."

He flashed up, noticing me for the first time. He shook his head, "Oh, it's quite alright."

I smiled, sympathetic, “Still. It's like the ultimate riddle."

A smirk slowly pulled on his face, "I do love riddles."

Shadowheart paused in front of us. "How's the research? Any idea what the hag will want in return for helping you?"

"Shadowheart," Gale chided. "Maybe we leave that particular for tomorrow's problems? Hm?"

She shrugged, "What? I'd be coming up with a list of possibilities and contingencies to barter. You're the scholar, what do you think she would ask of someone who can't do magic and isn't from Toril?"

Gale shook his head, "Not a clue. Do you have any ideas?"

Shadowheart eyed me, "How old are you?"

"Thirty six, why?"

"How long do humans live on your planet?" she asked.

I tilted back and forth as I considered, "On average between seventy and ninety years, why?"

She looked around camp, thinking, "You're still in childbearing years. But..."

Gale watched her nervously.

I waited for her to finish.

"Never mind. That wouldn't make sense." She focused on Gale, "Does she know about us? The tadpoles?"

He nodded. 

"Okay, then forget I ever said anything. My original idea wouldn't be viable. Have a good night." She turned to head out, then eyed the red tent next door, twirling to us again, but taking a squat to speak quieter. "Have you noticed Astarion acting strangely since meeting that hunter?"

Gale glanced at Astarion's tent, "I wasn't paying enough attention, so no. I've been a little distracted."

"I only thought his interaction with the guy was odd. But, I haven't really been paying much attention since Ethel's either," I added.

She hummed. "Well, something's up, I'm just not sure what. I don't know if it was the vampire thing or the Gur thing, but he seems bothered."

We nodded as she stood up and continued to walk through camp.

Just then, Wyll popped out of his tent, calling out to the rest of us, "Everyone, I've got something for you, just in case." In his arms were a stack of what looked like wooden tent stakes.

We all headed over to his tent. "These are wooden stakes. Keep them on you at all times. Hopefully, the spawn isn't in the swamp, but you never know. We are an easy target, especially if any of us wanders off. We can do watch shifts tonight. I'll take first, anyone want to take second?"

"I can take second, Wyll," Astarion said, taking one of Wyll's weapons.

Shadowheart watched him, then turned and took a stake from Wyll.

"Perfect. Hopefully we don't need to use any of them," Wyll added. 

"Thank you, Wyll, for being so well prepared and generous," Astarion purred.

"You're welcome," Wyll smiled. 

We all took a stake and saw it as a sign to call it a night.

I don't know if it was my insomnia or just a need to relieve myself, but I had to get out of my tent. I pulled back the flaps, but didn't see anyone at the campfire. Whether Wyll or Astarion, one of them must have been doing something to keep themselves awake or they were off to the toilet too. I was a bit groggy and may have missed them at their tents.

I stepped around mine and picked my way through the foggy wood, peeking back to make sure I could still see the fire so I didn't go too far. I could make out some smoke from the treehouse chimney a little ways off. I wasn't too far from either. I picked a semi-secluded spot and dropped trow.

I missed toilets and toilet paper. I missed my large sweatshirts and comfy sweatpants. I missed my bed.

I shook my hips a little and wiped with a small rag to get any last drips of piss and blood off myself before pulling up the camp pants I found in my bag from Lia. There was a blouse I thought of putting on, but the night was so muggy, I opted for the corset, leaving it a little loose. It wasn't uncomfortable, surprisingly. 

I peeked back at our campfire, then over at the chimney. The night was clear, even if some fog hung among the trees. If anything went wrong, Ethel, my companions, and Gandrel would hear my shouts and come to help. As I tied my pants closed, stuffing the rag in my pocket, I decided to take a walk. I really need to clear my head. My anxiety was still rampaging through my body, keeping me from deep sleep. 

I headed toward the treehouse. Maybe Ethel was still awake and I could toss around some ideas for payment, or even just have some tea. Though, I doubted it. Older women usually went to sleep early. Maybe it was the same for old hags.

As I made my way, I thought about what Shadowheart had asked. Why would being childbearing age matter? And why would having the tadpole be an issue in bargaining with the hag? I couldn't believe I was even trying to make a deal with one; that hags were even real.

Wild magic, elves, vampires, goblins, tieflings, hell itself, dragons, all of it was real. It felt like a fever dream. It felt like I had fallen down a well and woken up in a wonderland.

Wyll had a patron who gave him powers. Shadowheart served a dark god. Durge was part dragon who breathed lightning. Lae’zel was from an asteroid. Gale owned a cat that could talk, do magic, and had wings. He and his collegues knew about opening portals. For god sake, Ethel had admitted to knowing how to open portals to different locations on Toril.

Where the hell was I? What the hell did I have to offer these people? The only interesting thing I had to my name was my confusing ability to dampen magic and a new weapon. What use was I in a world that ran on magic? Entire religions and technology here were powered by it.

Speaking of religions, a new one was evolving and my new companions were supposed to be a big part of it. What were the chances of that? Something was brewing here and I had crash landed into it. How much longer before I turned into a burden? How much longer before they didn’t need me? Did they even ever need me?

I didn't hear him.

I didn't see him.

When people talk about being attacked by animals in the woods, most would attest to feeling some sort of innate feeling of being watched or they would have seen it coming, doing what they could to get away. There were no warnings, no feelings, no time to flee.

I looked up at the front porch of the treehouse pondering if I should knock on the doorway.

Then I was on the moss floor.

Air was forced out of my lungs on impact. A strong body held me to the ground. A leg pinned my right thigh, as an arm wrapped around my head, pulling it off the side, the other staying my right arm. Pain like I had never felt speared into the crux between my neck and right shoulder.

And I screamed.

Through my cries, I felt the bite deepen. They sucked hard on my skin through their teeth. My head spun. My shoulder and neck throbbed. My heart skipped in my chest while my breath failed. I felt warmth spread over my shoulder, leaking a bit down toward the back of my neck. I was going to die.

All of a sudden, my mind began to clear past the some of the pain. It was as if a switch clicked and my survival brain snapped on. I couldn't see their head, but I swung my left arm over and gripped hair, ripping it back. 

The thing screeched as it released my shoulder with a suction, giving me an opening. 

I pulled up my left knee to where I hoped was a crotch and nailed home. The thing threw itself back, rolling off of me quickly, as it screeched louder. I clamored to my feet and threw myself forward, tripping from the dizziness that doused me. 

I ran for home. 

I ran for the light. 

Stars sparked in my vision. I needed to get help soon or I was going to pass out. I skidded into the campsite, overshooting my tent. I winced at the acute shoulder pain.

I realized I had made an error.

I spun, hoping to any god out there that the thing was still writhing on the ground and I could get to the stake. 

No gods were listening.

A blur took me to ground once more from my left side. I landed on my back, face to face with Astarion.

All fight melted out of me. It was over. Terror had rendered me useless.

I thought of Sylas, of the man I saw in his eyes, the one I would never know. I thought of my parents and siblings who would never find out what happened. I thought of the future I wanted. I thought of Brian. I should have been screaming in fear. Instead, I was stone. I felt the dawning acceptance of fate. 

No more running.

No more pain.

No more grief.

No more fear.

There was nothing I could do anymore. He was the wolf and I, the deer. This was the cycle of life. To kill or be killed. To fight to live or die trying. 

In that moment with Astarion above me, every detail was carved into recesses of my mind. In the short moments, my life slowed as I watched him ready to kill me.

He was terrifying. I didn't realize he could get any paler, yet he looked like death itself. His peeled back lips held a light hint of purple as they pulled over teeth covered in the red of my blood. The same blood was smeared across his chin. His canines were two inch long spears protruding from his upper jaw. His eyes were dilated irises blown wide enough to look like twin solar eclipses. Nothing behind them but pure hunger.

He was a manifestation of need. He was a nightmare. He was the vampire spawn. 

I was never going to be able to stop him with either of my weapons. I was too slow, too untrained, too naive to the realities of the threats of this world. Too human.

I could only hope Sylas would find a way home. 

As those fangs dove to reconnect with my flesh, a rippling wave soared over me, knocking Astarion several feet away. 

I turned to see Gale and Durge descend on him. The other companions charged out of their tents, weapons in hand. Durge held his red blade to Astarion's throat while Gale cast a spell hog tying his hands and feet together. He pulled him up by the back of his blouse and onto his knees. His eyes were still wild, teeth bared as he glared up at Gale and Durge. 

I let my head fall back as my body began to shake involuntarily. 

I was alive.

A body skidded next to me: Shadowheart. She tipped my head up forcing a healing potion into my mouth, begging me to swallow, or so I assumed, as I realized I couldn't understand her. I had forgotten my enchanted necklace in my tent. 

I tried to tell her. It seemed she understood as my words probably came out as gibberish. She tossed the empty bottle, running for my tent. I felt a warmth and a tickle at my neck as the healing potion began to work through my body. I sat up as she handed me the pouch. 

"Thank you," I whispered. 

She nodded and jogged over to Astarion and the others. 

I instinctually reached for my new wound, my fingers slicking with my blood. I wiped them on my pants then pushed myself, slowly, to standing. I was surprised to see Wyll and Lae'zel with arms out ready to catch me if I fell. 

"Would you like us to deal with the spawn?" she asked.

Wyll was examining my bloody shoulder and bite marks. "Shadowheart, can you come here a moment?"

She jogged back. "What is it?"

He nodded toward my neck. "It's not going away."

She stood in front of me, then walked around to look at the wound from the back. "Odd. It's closed, but the marks are still swollen. Usually, it heals pretty quickly." She faced me again, "Let me see your hand."

I held up the hand that had been sliced only the day before.

"Interesting. The mark is still there like an old scar," she said staring at it oddly.

Gale called to us, "Did the healing potion not work?"

Shadowheart turned to him, "It did, but it doesn't heal completely. It leaves a scar."

I cleared my throat, "I'm going to be marked forever?"

She just stood watching me. Then she sighed, "Maybe if we get you a superior healing potion it will remove them. Don't worry too much now."

It was an automatic reaction, I couldn't even connect a coherent thought to it. I began shaking again.

Understanding flashed behind her eyes, "You're in shock." She ran back into my tent, bringing a blanket to wrap around me and a bottle of water. 

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Wyll asked.

I watched as Astarion turned to finally look at me, panting. I just stood watching him for a minute. 

"Untie me!" he screamed whipping his head between Durge and Gale. "Oh, gods, I'm going to be sick. Untie me, Wizard!"

They stood just watching, doing nothing. I stepped forward as he gasped small breaths, then yelped, folding over in pain. "What is..." He looked over at me, pure fear in his eyes. 

We all watched him in confusion. Was this supposed to be happening?

He heaved, then vomited, twice. Two giant stomach fulls of blood and tonight's dinner now covering his front and the ground. 

Gasps and questions sounded around me. Evidently, this was unusual. We all gathered around the spawn as he dry heaved again, followed by a cry of pain, his body curling in on itself as much as it could while tied up. 

He was panting heavily. Staring up at us with wild eyes, the red returned. His forehead dotted with sweat, silver curls sticking to it.

His gaze snapped to mine as I stood in front of him and the mess of my blood.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" he growled. 

All the others faded to the background as my mind centered on him. 

Those words clanged around in my head setting off all the triggers I thought I had dismantled. Anger and rage began to burn like a furnace within me. 

Why was I always the problem? It didn't matter if I was taking in the groceries and the bag snapped, dropping our glass jars onto the tile floors. It didn't matter that I had thought I was making a silly joke, it was disrespect. It didn't matter that I had shared my heart and hurt with a friend, it made him look bad. It didn't matter he forgot my doctor's appointment, I should have cancelled it since he made plans for himself.

It didn't matter if I was the one who was being hunted, something was wrong with my blood. 

I couldn't fight back. I couldn't show him how I really felt. I couldn't be truly angry. I had to keep it together. I had to regulate, even if he never did and would never try.

But, he was supposed to be dead. Yet, his words echoed before me. 

An unfamiliar face mocked me with his voice, his words. 

I was always the problem. If he thought me so much the problem, then I would finally show him how much of a problem I could be.

I turned and pulled the stake from Wyll, my blanket sliding from my shoulders as the glass bottle hit the ground.

I turned back to him. Finally tied up.

In a position of weakness.

I would finally get to fight back. 

His face turned to a snarl, "Go ahead. Kill me. I know you want to."

My heart and head focused like a knife's edge. It was only he and I, now. I flipped the stake in my hands, sharp end down. 

"I would kill you, but you're already dead." 

A crack. A grunt. A gasp of surprise. His eyes shimmering spheres, wide in shock as the blunt end of the stake made contact with his temple and cheekbone. I hit him again.

And again. 

No one to stop me. 

No one to take it out on me. 

His blood mixed with mine on his face. His eyes empty. 

In a position of weakness. 

I was now the monster who would haunt his dreams. I pulled back again.

I heard my companions’ shocked gasps, but my mind was so sharpened on my target, they didn't mean anything to me anymore. They were background noise. I snapped forward, but a strong, cold, bony hand held my wrist.

"No more."

Something like cold water washed over my consciousness. I turned to the face of the undead priest who had promised to see me again soon. He had interesting timing. 

"I shant revive any of thou compatriots if thou art slain at one another's hands. Though, if thou art slain by sword or mishap while on your way, I will revive thee, for a price."

Gale huffed, then under his breath, "Can anything come without strings attached for once?"

"Ah, a new one. I know thy face and it has been recorded."

Gale watched him confused. "Do you know him?" he asked me.

It took me a moment to adjust my focus. I nodded, "He was in the large sarcophagus in the tomb Sylas opened."

"And when were you planning on telling us?" Shadowheart added from my other side.

I shrugged. "We had bigger problems. I forgot."

I heard Astarion cough and spit at my feet. He was glaring up at me now, but the fire in his eyes was small, the emptiness a wall within him. I knew the look too well, but didn't pity him.

"What do we call you?" Wyll inquired.

"Whatever you wish," he replied, releasing my wrist.

Astarion snorted, the sound wet. He said something in a different language.

"I am the Withered, you are correct."

"Withers it is, then," Gale stated, exasperated. "Alright, so if we kill each other, you won't revive us, but if we are slain in battle or fall off a cliff, you will do so. For a price."

"Correct."

I snapped my head around at the group just accepting his promises to bring us back from the dead as if he were telling them the rules of a new game to play. Today was getting more and more nuts. I needed to sleep. My neck and shoulder burned. I hadn't even registered the pain as I swung down on Astarion over and over with my right arm.

His face was swelling and beginning to bruise. 

Gale noticed us staring at each other, catching my attention. "Well, I guess Astarion's fate is up to you. You can stake him or you can banish him, or you can, well, those are my suggestions."

I watched Astarion's shoulders slump, head wringing with the same acceptance I felt beneath him. He fully expected to die. 

I turned to Durge. He was watching Astarion with a look of disappointment, not anger. I thought about all the odd times I caught their conversations. How quick he had denied the vampire bites at the boar.

"Durge, how long have you known?" I asked.

Surprise met my eyes as he opened his mouth, unable to reply. We all waited. Astarion tipped his head back to look up at Durge, eyes daring him to tell the truth. Durge quickly glanced down at him then at me again, "Since the shipwreck."

"I knew it!" Shadowheart cried. 

"Are you kidding me?" Wyll complained. "I have been pointing out to you all the indicators and you dismissed me."

Gale looked way, staying quiet. 

"Gale?" I started. "Did you know?"

Guilt stared back at me.

"You promised you had it under control," Durge yelled at Astarion.

"I do!" he panted. "I did," he confessed quieter. His head drooped again.

I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyelids, stars alighting behind them. The dizziness of blood loss was returning. This was madness. I was just attacked and my companions knew the whole time we had a threat at camp, and no one tried to teach me to defend myself. I yelled. It echoed out of the chasm in my heart and through the trees.

How long had Astarion been waiting for this? How many of those threatening stares I thought were jealousy were actually him contemplating my death? My camp mates were just children holding the leash of a wolf. 

"I can't do this. I need..." I flashed around at the faces watching me, my heartbeat irregular again.

"Go to sleep," Lae'zel demanded.  

I didn't object. I just nodded and turned away from the group and headed straight for my tent.

"Wait, what of me?" Astarion's voice cracked.

I turned around to the face full of fear. "Like I said. You're already dead. No need to kill you again." 

He collapsed onto the ground, I suspected in relief, but I didn't stick around to find out.

Astarion POV -

My whole body felt like it had been set aflame. My veins burned beneath the skin as I collapsed onto the dirt before the fire. I heard the others head back to their tents one by one.

I could hear Wyll sharpening a stake in his tent. I could hear Shadowheart popping the cork of a wine bottle. I heard Lae'zel adjust her sword closer before settling in her bedroll. I heard Durge toss and turn as he fell back to sleep. I even heard Withers saunter off into the fog.

I could hear her quiet sobbing. 

Gale sat on the log next to me, taking the rest my shift of watch.

Time slipped past, as always, tied up and lying in my own mess. It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last. They would likely hand me over to the Gur when the sun rose, then I would be back in the thrall and torment of Cazador. 

I spit again, thinking of him. My head throbbed and cuts burned from Abigail's strong hits. I was almost proud of her. If I hadn't been the target of her rage, it would have been even better than watching her deck the druid. There was a deep well of violence within her. I would know. Had I noticed it sooner, I could have cultivated it for my own uses.

Pathetic little boy. Impulsive. Impudent. Thoughtless imbecile. A pretty face with an empty skull.

She should have killed me. Maybe, she would have had I kept my mouth shut. I could never do it before, unless I was forced. I swore I would never be forced again as I soaked in those first rays off the Nautiloid. I swore too soon.

I swallowed the tears threatening to break free. There was no use in crying. Crying was for those who had lost something. I gave it up.

She wasn't supposed to break free. She was supposed to die on the ground. I gave up my only mark and lost control. 

Now, I would lose all control, forever. 

I swallowed my dry throat again. Gods, I needed a drink. I eyed the blood puddled beneath my face. I turned and licked it. Damn the wizard, I didn't care. 

My stomach lurched. 

"Are you truly that needy? Have you not drank enough blood already?" Gale taunted, swigging back a bottle of water. 

My whole body screamed. I needed that water. My tongue felt like sand in my mouth. 

"Give me that," I demanded.

His brows bunched, "What?"

"Give me the water," I said again.

He held the bottle up examining it oddly. "Water? I thought vampires couldn't drink water? Or rather it was useless."

"I'm parched, wizard. Something is wrong with her blood. It's making me..." The revelation of my current state dawned like the sun. "I'm thirsty."

The disdain for me made way for his own curiosity. "You're thirsty?" He watched me a moment before pulling me back to my knees. His eyes narrowed, "If I release your feet, so you can sit properly, will you run? Because if you run, I will put you in hold for the rest of the night."

I shook my head, watching him back, "I promise to be a good boy."

He rolled his eyes, but he was good on his word and freed my feet. A sigh escaped me. He pulled on my arm to sit me next to him. 

He sat there waiting for something.

"Are you truly going to feed me by hand?" I couldn't believe he was really considering this. 

"By Mystra, Astarion, you tried to kill one of us tonight. Why in the hells would I trust you right now?" 

My shoulders slumped. "Fine. Try not to miss my mouth."

"Also, you're covered in blood and vomit. You reek. You probably need a good dousing." He held up the bottle to my mouth and tipped it as I tipped back. Cool liquid flooded and I swallowed. It wasn't enough. My mouth was still too dry.

I needed more, so much more. It was as if my two hundred years without had finally caught up to me. I needed to be near drowning in water. 

"Are you just going to sit there or are you going to give me more, wizard?" I demanded.

He examined me with confusion and some kind of academic interest. "You... When was the last time you fed? And I mean from a person."

My jaw tightened. I could lie to him. It would be better if he feared me. It would be better than my honesty being met with apathy. But, I would be handed over come morning, either way. What did I have to lose that I hadn't already?

I huffed, "I've never..."

I watched his incredulity as he finished my confession in his head. "Never?"

I shook my head, turning to absently watch the fire, "She was my first."

"Barely, I take it. By the amount of blood you left on her and the ground." He covered his mouth with his spare hand, stifling a laugh. 

"What's so funny?" I spit.

"Just that... You might be the worst vampire ever. As in, not a good one. Vampires are supposed to be apex predators in the dark."

I glared at him, "Your point?"

He chuckled, "My point is that, maybe, you're not the threat we think you are." He hummed, turning to the fire, "We all have our burdens."

I watched him as his mind was lost on something he didn't seem intent on sharing. He turned back to face me after a moment, "Alright, I'll give you the chance to earn my trust."

I felt the tie at my wrists snap. He held out the water. "Here, drink it."

I gripped it from him and chugged the whole thing. 

"This can't be normal."

I wiped across my mouth. Blood staining my shirt sleeve. I handed the bottle back to Gale, "It's not. Something's wrong. I'm craving water and food. I've been a vampire spawn for centuries and all I've ever craved is blood."

Gale hopped up and trotted toward his tent, turning back momentarily, "Wait there, please. I'm going to get something to put on to cook." He was back with a few more water bottles, prepping the food and pots a few minutes later. 

I sat with my hands in my lap. "You don't have to do this for me, you know."

"To be transparent, I'm not sympathetic to whatever you're experiencing, but I do have academic interest. When I get the food cooked, expect a few questions. I've never had an opportunity to speak with a vampire or spawn directly. So, this will be a chance to learn and record some new findings. At the very least, for myself."

I smirked. Of course it was academic, but at least I had an opportunity to present my case. Maybe, I could convince him to let me stay. Lean into his 'worst vampire ever' estimations. 

I uncorked another water bottle, tossing it back until it was empty. 

We sat and cooked in relative silence until I heard Durge stir and come to join us. I kept my face blank, but I couldn't stop the feeling of regret. I had messed up on two fronts tonight. Hopefully, I could at least recover one. 

"What are you making, Gale?" Durge asked the wizard while watching me.

"I'm just tossing around some spare rabbit and potatoes... for Astarion."

Durge flashed to me. "Why?"

"I'm... hungry."

"Don't you need blood for that?" he asked flatly.

"I..." 

Gale finished for me, "Something is odd with Abigail's blood. It has awakened natural cravings. He has chugged nearly all of my water bottles."

Durge tipped his head curiously, "So, you want food and water? Are you... alive?"

All thought came to a screeching halt. 

Alive. 

Could it be possible? I glanced over at the puddles of blood and vomit. Two hundred years of craving life itself. Were the gods finally listening? Kidnapped by mind flayers who implanted me with a parasite that would let me walk in the sun, only to end up traveling with the one thinking creature in all the realms whose blood held the cure to vampirism. It was too much of a coincidence. But, stuff like that didn't happen in reality. It was for exaggerated narratives of the heroes of old. 

It couldn't be, could it?

Gale held out a bowl of rabbit and potatoes with a fork. I filled the utensil and took the bite.

As it hit my tongue, the flavor overtook me. It wasn't anything elaborate, but it was delicious. Normal food had lost most of its flavor to time. Eating it was more for show at this point. But this, it was gamey and salty. It was greasy and thick. I shoveled the bowl like it was my first meal in days. First meal in two hundred years. 

I held out the bowl, ready for more. 

Gale's brows rose on his face. "As you wish." He piled my bowl high. "Just try not to get sick. Those who have been starving tend to throw up food if they eat too much too quickly."

"Shut up, wizard," I barked as I stuffed more into my hollow cheeks.

He rolled his eyes and I shut mine, sighing. I would dream of this meal for years. My fork hit the empty bottom too soon. I downed another half bottle of water. My waistband tightened at the light bloating. I could feel the weight of the food and drink in my stomach. I was full. 

I handed back the bowl. A feeling of contentment and satisfaction sat in my gut for the first time in centuries. I smiled to myself. I knew my companions were watching me carefully. I looked at Gale, "Thank you, this was a gift."

He nodded. "My turn now. You said she was your first?"

I nodded. Durge continued to watch me, warily. "I've never been permitted to drink from thinking creatures. I wasn't sure I was even able to do so, until tonight. Though, I guess this may not be a great test of that. But, I couldn't even try before."

He nodded. A journal and quill appearing from thin air. "So, as current knowledge stands, you are at the whims of your master."

"My old master. Whatever happened on the Nautiloid, I'm not controlled by him out here. I've been conveniently lost."

"Right. But, back in the city, you would be."

"Possibly, but I'm not entirely sure."

He tapped a finger to his lips, "How long have you been a spawn?"

I glanced at Durge who was still watching me, "Two hundred years. For two hundred years I was forced to eat rats and bugs or be subjected to torture and forced to torture others."

Gale paused, setting the quill down. "I..." A face of sympathy met mine, "I think I will pick up our questions another time."

"I didn't take you for one to scare so easily," I teased, though I was glad he had decided to stop.

"Your teasing is simply a facade for your own pain. One of these days that facade will rip apart and you will be left naked. But, I won't be the one to strip you."

I didn't know what to say to that. I just turned to the fire, taking another drink of water. 

I heard the wizard stand, "I think I'll turn in for the night. We can discuss whether you can stay with the others in the morning. But, if you are missing by then, I won't try to come find you."

I nodded, listening to the retreating steps. 

"Do you think it's permanent?" asked Durge, quietly.

"The hunger?"

He nodded.

I shook my head. "Nothing good ever is."

He stood, "You should face her tomorrow. She deserves that. Even if you have to leave. I'll do my best to make sure you don't end up with Gandrel."

I hadn't even mentioned the hunter. "Thank you, I'll consider it."

He turned away slightly, then paused, looking back to me, "Also, if you do start to need blood again. All you have to do is ask."

Our eyes met over the flames. I had offered him a proverbial hand not too long ago. This must be him returning the favor. I would need blood to keep up soon. "I'll consider it," I replied. He nodded and headed back to his tent. 

I sat watching the flames. I picked up the fork and licked it, a little of the grease coating my tongue. A weight dropped in my pelvis. Another instinct of the living awoke in me. 

I had to piss. Now.

I ran to the edge of camp, pulling down on my pants as quickly as I could, letting myself out. I leaned up against the tree as relief flooded me and the dirt. Another function I hadn't experienced in two hundred years.

One I didn't particularly miss as I held myself in my hand, shaking it a little to get the final drips off. What was happening to me?

She had brought me back to life, at the cost of immense pain. Something inherent in me knew this was too good to be true and was likely to be short lived, but it was incredible, nonetheless. I slumped against the tree, still exposed, as my eyes caught the puddle of her blood next to the fire. 

She had been so delicate in my arms. Her skin, soft. Her brown hair smelled like dinner. Her blood tasted...

I huffed as I felt myself expand in my palm. I rubbed the tip as I watched the flames reflected in her blood. I shut my eyes. 

The image of her standing over me, blood cascading down her breasts and corset, filled my mind. The bite marks, my marks on her, still swollen. Bruises beginning to purple the graceful lines of her neck. 

I pumped my hand down my shaft. A slow roll, tip to base, building a steady rhythm as I focused on her. 

Her eyes held her anger as she unlaced the strands, pulling back the stays to reveal her blood cover breasts, spare drips rolling down to her bare stomach. 

I sighed as my hand pulled tighter, twisting slightly, pumping harder. 

She stepped out of her dirt stained pants, exposing the drips of blood running from her cunt down her soft thighs. She stepped toward me, settling onto her knees in the pools of her own blood. I could smell it, but not strong enough. I needed more of it.

I opened my eyes and scrambled to the blood puddles at the fire. I dipped my hands, falling down against one of the logs. I listened for any stirring from the tents. I was met with silence and soft snoring. I watched myself as I ran my blood drenched hands up and down my shaft. I grew harder. My balls tighter. I tipped my head back, relishing in the heady scent of blood. 

The scent of life itself. It was cool against my skin, but it was wet and thick. Divine. I pumped harder returning to the earlier rhythm. 

I closed my eyes, the image of her before me once more, covered in her own blood. Her slender hands on me, smothered in her blood as she pushed one up and over my tip again and again.

I gasped. I clamped my mouth shut. I stopped my breathing and focused. 

One of her hands on my shaft, the other in my hair. Her bloody hand dragging along the edges of my ear. Her lips on my neck. My head leaning in and licking the wounds I made. The metallic tang my tongue. Both of us sucking on the marks of the other. 

I was so close. I hadn't felt this much need, hunger, and greed for anything is so long. 

Anything for myself was stripped from me. I was the one taken, not the one who took. I was the one forced to my knees or over a table, never the true receiver. I was thing to be used. An instrument to be played. 

No one would pull my strings any longer. I would fill every need, hunger, and desire. I would never be denied. I would use and take and win. 

I flipped her over in my mind as I flipped over in reality. Her face lying in the puddle of her own. The same blood on display dripping from her cunt. A meal before me. I slammed myself home, deep within her over and over. My needs fulfilled, my desire not found wonting. 

She would beg. She would need. She would bleed for me. 

I bit down on my own wrist as I leaned against the log, my own need shooting onto the ground and into my blood covered hand. 

The echoes of my orgasm rolled through me as I stared at the white glob in my palm.

Tonight was full of surprises. It wasn't as if I hadn't orgasmed in two hundred years. But, never in two hundred years had I ejaculated. Orgasming without true release was painful, but all I felt, leaning over with my ass exposed to any companion who might find me in my own humiliation, was relief. I squished the cum in my bloodied palm, it turning pink as I stared in amazement.

Maybe, I was coming alive after all.

[Astarion note: I should write erotica for a living.]

IRL Author Note: I KNOW THIS IS EARLY BUT WHEW THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE. I can't do 2 a week regularly, but I couldn't wait on this one. The next few chapters are gonna be a doozy. It'll be like falling down the spider pit into the Underdark. I apologize to my characters in advance.

[little-tyrant-gortash]

you make me dizzy just by looking at me. (From modern or Durge Jett @quaintnecromancer I can’t decide which lol)

Crush @quaintnecromancer

Enver didn't do anything in particular. In fact, he was lost in his own train of thoughts. He sat at the dining table with Jett; leisurely leaning back in the lavish chair, Gortash idly moved the crystal goblet in his hand, occasionally watching how the wine danced around in it. His golden nails clinked the glass from time to time, just as he glanced up at his company from time to time as well.

But he wasn't really present.

He was thinking of all that happened and all that would happen in the near future; his plans and past and hopes and nightmares. A chaotic mess he wanted to sort out at some point.

When I break free, I'll deal with it. When I make a name for myself, I'll deal with it. When I become lord, I'll deal with it.

When this, when that, when whatever. That time when he'll be able to stop and deal with his traumas - that time would never come.

Jett's quiet words roused him from his grim mood. Quite quickly, at that. Enver's dark eyes shifted back up to look at the other again; the features of the other man pulling at his heartstrings, playing a song he drowned in his own brutal he'd never look at me that way reasoning.

"Oh", he breathed out now, then lifted the goblet to drink from his wine. "I apologize." He sounded sincere as he lowered the goblet again. Melancholic. "I unsettle a lot of people, I know."

[daemon-in-my-head]

durgetash 28 :3

Ooo, thank you anon and @beecreeper for indulging me like this.

28 ' …as a lie.' from this list. Durgetash, MxM, named Durge and SFW, 695 words of whatever their beautiful relationship and common shenanigans.

"What do you mean you'll stay?"

"Just a day or two," the Bhaalspawn sought to avoid the tyrant's piercing glare as he answered, "merely to ensure everything's in order and stays that way. It would be a shame if something went wrong as we near the completion of our goals, wouldn't you agree?"

Albeit valid reasoning, Enver Gortash's grimace refused to let go of the suspicion clawing at his features, "Ketheric is a competent General. And as much as I loath to admit this to his face, I'm fairly certain he'll be able to keep his own men in line even without your well meant intervention."

He raised a brow at his so-called dearest before digging for the real reason as to why the other man wished to remain in the lands suffering underneath the same curse that haunted him, "unless, perchance, you have a different reason why you'd like to stay behind? Maybe something related to a certain changeling and familial strings still attached?"

"I-" before Ellifain could retort or tangle himself tighter within his poorly knotted net of lies the Banite already continued his preachings. Of course, he did.

"Honesty, my dear. You should try it from time to time. It may even work out in your favour if you do."

Yet being aware of the man's disdain for his blood kin and the rather lamentful truth that he'd been caught, the little godling swiftly attempted another one of his strategies instead of listening to Gortash's nagging. Honesty may have been one way to defeat his beloved opponent, but certainly not the only one.

With his hand soon cupping the prickly jaw, he forced the man to look into wide, round, crimson shimmering eyes that seemed almost tearful at this point. "A day, maybe two. You can bear that long, can't you?"

Gortash simply replied with a click of his tongue, whatever other preaching stuck in his throat as he saw himself in the elfs eyes, still trying to refuse to give in to the pull of the Bhaalspawn's hand and voice.

"I swear on my name, I won't prolong my stay for too much." The Bhaalists paused to curl his lips into a smile, unfazed by the Banites stubbornness, "after all, I can't have you usher in your well-deserved reign without those who enabled it." The knowing, now almost smug-looking grin reflected back at him from within the dark eyes still holding contempt for decisions made without their owner as the man finished. A final petty trick up the elf's sleeve, but unfortunately for the tyrant, one that seemingly worked.

"Two days, any longer, and I'll drag you back myself if I must," Gortash rolled his eyes, an empty threat, no doubt, but a tyrant couldn't possibly give in without even the slightest hint of hesitation, and a quick defeat like this one warranted the venting of a bit of his frustration.

Gleefully ignoring his companion's displeasure, however, the little Bhaalspawn had already begun to launch yet another attack. His hand still holding onto the skin defended by the beginnings of a beard was soon joined by another, the lips spewing uncomfortable truths and makeshift lies meeting those of his most treasured opponent.

A quick yet deep kiss. The hungry kind, the one that makes you feel as though your breath is being stolen away all while a sly tongue prods and pokes to steal whatever else may yet remain. But also the kind that is over before you could ever savour the delicate intricacies of another being so close to you, a painful fact the suddenly not-quite-so-disappointed-looking tyrant lamented with his thumb rubbing the place that had felt another's heat just a mere second ago.

"I trust you'll send word once you reach the city," the Bhaalspawn called out to his latest victim as he approached the door, not a single more glance spared towards the one he'd taken such joy tormenting. After all, he was aware that he couldn't possibly adhere to the oath he'd just sworn nor did he ever intend to.

The temple dealings and his own would take a tenday at least, no matter how much he hurried. But he'd still much prefer to avoid the guilt brought on by facing the one he didn't wish to fool any longer.

[razzberrydazz]

Greeting dialogue if my Durge Rana was a companion:

Neutral approval

"Need something?"

"Something I can help with?"

"What's eating you? Well, other than the tadpole."

Low approval

"What do you want."

"Go on, spit it out."

"Care to bother someone else with your problems? Ah, who am I kidding, of course you come to me to bail you out."

"Choose your words carefully. The Red bares its teeth at your presence, and I'd hate to let it loose on you."

Fair-Good approval

"How can I help, friend?"

"Need a hand? How about a song?"

"Care to tell me why you're gracing me with your presence? I jest, go on and tell me!"

High approval

"What ails you, friend? Tell me so I may amend it."

"I was just missing the sound of your voice! Talk to me, my friend."

"I'm here to listen, always."

"The Red is quiet with you around."

Romanced + Very High approval

"I'll be your dagger, my dear. Point me in the right direction."

"The Red is quiet with you around. Talk, my sweet, so I can find myself in your voice."

"I missed your warmth, dearest."

"Is that your dagger, or are you just happy to see me? I jest, I jest, I know it's both."

"Happy to see you, love. My teeth missed your name on my tongue."

[pessimisticromantic]

Cold Body, Warm Blood Ch. 2

Words: 5.1k M/M Astarion x Redeemed Durge - 18+

Tags: Drama & Romance Slow Burn Past Abuse Past Sexual Abuse Past Torture Past Violence Blood and Violence Hurt/ComfortAngst and Hurt/Comfort Falling In Love Nightmares Blood Drinking Blood Kink Read on AO3 (recommended) Chapter 2 of ? (WIP)

Chapter 1: Blood Like Wine (Read on AO3)

Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my mind

A few spoilers for Act 1 & 2

Chapter 2: The Sky Above

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Tav watched as the campsite he had called home for weeks now was bustling with rowdy happy tieflings celebrating their survival from not only the goblins but the druids as well. He noticed Halsin had joined them and was glad to see an attempt at an olive branch from the druids, considering their treatment of the refugees when things started getting hard, was tentatively accepted by the tieflings. It was nice seeing everyone letting loose after all the stress that had been piled on top of them. It didn't hurt that liquor was flowing freely.

Tav himself held a mug of ale, though he had only sipped on it so far. He wandered the camp, listening to the banter, songs, and general high spirits from not only the tieflings but his companions.

Gale had attempted to show Tav how to manipulate the weave earlier, but it went about as well as one would expect from a barbarian, which caused a good bit of laughter from everyone around to witness it.

Afterward, he realized that Wyll was missing from his usual spot near his tent, so Tav set out to find the adventurous Blade of Frontiers. He found the man down by the river, talking with Karlach. It looked to be a serious and intimate conversation. Wyll was looking rather deflated of his usual bravado and Karlach looked like she desperately wanted to console him, but wasn't sure how verbally and physically couldn't.

Tav watched as Karlach reached for Wyll, but stopped just an inch short of touching him. Wyll glanced down at her hand and mumbled something and Karlach's face lit up as he took her hand, just for a moment, before releasing it. Tav smiled and moved on, leaving the two to work through what was eating at the warlock. Tav suspected it was the sudden visual change in Wyll's appearance that was causing the issue. Thankfully, Karlach was incredible at making others feel seen and heard, even though her continued existence was the reason for Wyll's change at Mizora's hand.

Tav slowly made his way to Astarion's tent and saw the pale elf sitting on his stool looking quite miserable. Giving the elf's shoulder a nudge as he passed from behind him to settle himself down on a pillow in front of Astarion, "Why the long face?"

A smile flashed on Astarion's face as he replied, gesturing with the wine bottle in his hand, "I never pictured myself a hero." He took a swig of his wine, grimaced, and said, "I hate it. This is awful."

"Yeah the vintage they brought isn't the best," Tav joked taking a sip of his ale, "At least the ale is decent."

Astarion glared at him, but it was soon cracked by a smirk, "It tastes like vinegar."

Tav set down his mug and grabbed the bottle from Astarion's hand and took a long drink. It was a cheaper red, but it would still work to get a person drunk at least. Wiping his mouth he handed the bottle back and Astarion's eyes flickered to the mouth of the bottle and back to Tav. "Not the worst thing I've tasted. Though with your standards, yeah, it'd be pretty disgusting," Tav said giving Astarion an apologetic look.

Astarion took another sip of the wine and said poutily, "I just wanted a little fun. It'll be quite hard to do with…this," and he gestured to his bottle.

Tav laughed, picking up his ale again, and bumped it against the wine bottle, "I'll toast to that!" He took another long pull from his ale, draining half of it easily.

Astarion's eyebrows shot up in surprise which he quickly schooled into a seductive look, "You know, we could always have our own fun, darling."

"Hmmm, I have something in mind we could do," Tav said a lazy smile spread on his face.

"Oh? What do you have in mind," Astarion asked as he leaned forward on his seat.

"Meet me later on by the ruined building that's nearby and I'll show you," Tav said with a wink. He stood and walked away and the entire time he could feel the vampire spawn's eyes on him.

Tav made a few more rounds of the camp, making sure his companions were behaving or enjoying themselves depending on the companion, and seeing that the tieflings were enjoying their celebrations. Once the revelry had calmed to a low murmur against the quiet of the night, he made his way to the ruins nearby, a bottle of a finer vintage red in his hands. Approaching in the bright moonlight he saw the pale ghost-like form of Astarion leaning against the side of the stone wall.

"There you are. I wasn't entirely sure you were going to show," he said impatiently, running a hand through his silver hair.

"Stand you up? Never! Now, follow me, we'll have to cross the river," Tav said holding out his hand to the pale elf.

Astarion made a face, "Ugh, I don't feel like getting my shoes wet, can't we find somewhere else to cross?"

"Nope, that would take entirely too long! Here," Tav said and handed the bottle to Astarion, who glanced down at the label and made an appreciative noise. Tav turned and knelt offering his back to the rogue, "I'll carry you across."

"What?" Astarion said shocked.

"I'll carry you so your shoes don't get wet," Tav said plainly, looking back at him. "Come on, it's a beautiful night and I want to show you something."

Astarion huffed in annoyance but stooped to put his arms around Tav's neck, one hand holding tight to the wine bottle, the other clasped the wrist of his occupied hand. Tav stood and as Astarion's legs wrapped around his waist, he positioned his arms and hands to support the other man's legs.

He couldn't help the wide grin that cracked his face nor the flutter in his chest at the feeling of the elf against his back and idly wondered if Astarion could feel it as he started forward. If so the elf didn't make mention of it.

As Tav made his careful trek through the shallowest portion of the river nearby, Astarion grumbled that this was 'quite ridiculous' and that Tav 'better not fall'. Tav just chuckled at the vampire spawn, as he splashed through the calf-high water. It was cold but Tav didn't mind, he ran hot most of the time anyway.

Once he made it to the other side of the river he paused on the riverbank but made no move to set Astarion down and the pale elf said, "You can set me down now."

"I could, but if you'll allow it, I'd like to carry you to our destination," Tav said a slight blush rising to his cheeks. After a moment when Astarion didn't say anything he bowed his head and mumbled, "It's nice, carrying you like this…"

He heard Astarion's soft snort, but the elf settled back against Tav's back and rested his head on the larger man's shoulder, "Well, we don't have all night."

Tav's smile reappeared as he readjusted his arms and then started his journey into the forest and up toward the large outcrop above their camp. He chatted amicably with Astarion as they went; about their companions, and the next steps on their journey. By the time they made it to the top, where the waterfall was, he had a light sheen of sweat on his body and his muscles burned pleasantly from the effort. Astarion was cool against his back, for which Tav was grateful.

He carefully knelt again, and Astarion slipped off his back, looking around the clearing they stood in. They were right next to the waterfall that fed the river that lazily wound its way past their camp as well as a rocky shelf that looked over the campsite below.

Tav watched as Astarion walked to the edge and peered down into the darkness at the now quiet camp. "I figured since we've been traveling together, you probably haven't had a chance to see the sunrise. So we can share that bottle of wine, do some star viewing, and catch a beautiful sunrise in a few hours."

Astarion turned back to Tav, his face a mix of confusion and uncertainty, "This isn't quite what I had in mind when I said I wanted some fun."

"I know, but I don't think either of us is ready for the kind of fun you were suggesting, Astarion," Tav said gently as he walked up and took the bottle out of Astarion's hands. Tav stepped past him and sat down on the lip of the overlook. He looked up at Astarion and smiled as the elf sat next to him.

"Now then! Let's crack this open," Tav said enthusiastically and peeled the wax off the mouth of the bottle before he pulled on the cork stopper, releasing the wine from its prison of glass. Tossing the wax and cork into the woods, he handed the bottle to Astarion first.

Astarion wore an unreadable expression but took a long pull of the wine eagerly and let out a satisfied sigh afterward. "That is much improved to the swill down there," he said before handing the bottle back to Tav.

Tav downed a couple of mouthfuls before he nodded in agreement.

Astarion looked out and couldn't help but enjoy the view. The moon was full, bathing the world in silvers and greys, and the night sky looked like someone had spilled glitter all over a black velvet sheet. It was more stars than he was used to seeing in Baldur's Gate and he wondered if the amount of light sources the city sported, was the reasoning behind it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tav lean back on one of his hands, cradling the wine bottle in the other, and it looked like he was enjoying himself. Good.

Tav watched as Astarion leaned forward again to look below at the waterfall and a sudden urge boiled up, smashing past his defenses. He imagined pushing Astarion off of the ledge with one swift kick. Imagined watching his body fall, screaming until the sickening thud and sudden silence. Pleasure washed through him at the visions. No! NO! He wouldn't give in to these twisted fantasies. He liked Astarion more than he probably should, all things considered. Tav screwed his eyes shut and felt a spasm go through him and suddenly pain blossomed in his hand. He opened his eyes and realized he'd grasped the bottle hard enough to break the neck of it. Wine, glass, and blood mixed as it poured over his hand. "Fuck," he said simply. Better the bottle than Astarion's neck he thought as he moved the bottle to the side and took a look at his hand.

Astarion turned and grabbed Tav's wrist firmly, "Hells. Must barbarians break everything," he mumbled and began picking the glass out of Tav's wounds. "Why is it I'm always the one patching you up?"

Tav grimaced but couldn't help a chuckle at Astarion's displeasure, as he made up a lame excuse, "Sorry, I got distracted. I forget my strength sometimes."

Astarion just grunted in reply as he finished pulling out the last shard. Then Tav watched as the vampire spawn lifted his injured hand to his mouth and pressed the wounds to his mouth. Tav hissed in pain but didn't pull away. Astarion took his time, his tongue cleaning the blood and wine mixture coating Tav's hand. Tav swallowed hard as he watched the pale elf. The moonlight bathed his pale skin in an almost ethereal glow. Completely different urges welled up in him as he spoke, "Thank you."

After a few heartbeats, Astarion sat back a self-satisfied smirk on his face. "No point wasting either the wine or the blood." Tav looked back down at his hand and realized almost all of the wounds were staunched, whatever Astarion had done with his tongue was enough to slow the bleeding of all but the deepest cut. "We'll need to stitch that last one, sadly. I can only do so much," Astarion said releasing Tav's wrist, picking up the broken wine bottle, and peering in.

"Hm, not much left," he said disappointed, and cast the broken bottle out over the ledge. They heard the faint sound of shattering glass and Tav flexed his hand gently, careful to not aggravate the cuts as Astarion laid back to stare at the stars.

After a few moments, Tav joined the pale elf in his stargazing and a comfortable silence formed between them.

"What's your favorite star or constellation," Astarion asked softly as he turned his head to look at Tav.

Tav hummed thoughtfully before a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He met Astarion's gaze and replied honestly, "You."

Astarion snored and looked away, but even in the dim light of the moon, Tav could see the delicate blush on the tips of Astarion's ears. The elf shot out a half-hearted insult, "You're insufferable."

Tav rolled to his side and reached out to turn Astarion's face back to his, "You are a magnificent sight to behold when you blush."

Astarion stared at Tav, his eyes dropping to the half-elf's lips. He propped himself up on his elbow as his lips met Tav's.

Tav melted into the kiss, his hand sliding from Astarion's jaw to the nape of his neck. Astarion could feel the painful roil of emotions stir in his stomach but he smashed it down ruthlessly. He didn't have the luxury of letting Tav's whims control his fate, regardless of his feelings on the matter.

Astarion pushed against Tav's chest, pushing the larger man's back to the ground, and smoothly slid around his waist.

"W-wait 'Star I don't-" Tav started but Astarion cut him off with another kiss as he bucked his hips against Tav's own. Tav groaned against his mouth and his fingers dug into Astarion's hips, pulling the pale elf off of him, with an incredible amount of strength.

Tav shifted away breathing heavily, "Astarion you have to stop doing this. I can't keep taking the whiplash that you've been giving me. You say you need time one moment and the next you're flinging yourself at me, and I just…I don't understand."

Astarion collected himself as Tav frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. Schooling his face into a carefully seductive look Astarion barreled ahead through the fear that was thrumming through his nerves, "What if I said I love you?"

Tav flinched and looked away, "More honied words, after everything we've been through and overcome, would you just be honest with me?"

Astarion's face twisted into scorn as he spits out, "You want honesty? Fine, I'll give you honesty-" and stood pacing away from Tav, rage rolling off of him like Tav had never seen before. Astarion whirled back to the surprised half-elf his face a mask of twisted pain and hatred, "I spent 200 years luring back pretty little things to Cazador with my body. It's all I've known for so fucking long. Whatever I wanted, however I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered. Cazador never gave me a choice. I've lived in fear for so long, that I don't know how to stop thinking and behaving like I'm still Cazador's slave."

Tav stood slowly, careful to not startle the enraged rogue in front of him, as he spoke, his voice low and soothing, "You're not a thing to be discarded after being used up, Astarion. Not with me nor anyone else at our camp thinks that. You don't have to keep pretending or putting yourself into these kinds of situations."

Astarion stared at him, tears threatening to fall as they gathered onto his dark lashes. He was shaking and it felt like a rock had been lodged in his throat, as Tav spoke again, "You are worth a great deal to me, 'Star. These feelings aren't contingent on us having sex. I just want to be with you, and if you honestly need it, I can take a step back from this and we will just be friends." Tav stepped closer, slowly reaching out towards Astarion's hand but not taking it, "I promise you, I only want you to be happy. What do you want to do?"

Tears slipped down Astarion's cheeks as his jaw muscles jumped, catching the light of the moon, before he finally spoke, "I…don't know. It's been so…long since I've had to decide what I wanted." Looking down he took Tav's offered hand and stared at their hands. He said softly almost like he was realizing it for himself in that moment, "But I do know…that this is nice." His eyes were dark and wet when he looked back up into Tav's eyes, but the shy smile he gave Tav was like watching the sun cutting through the fog on a dark day. Tav knew he would be chasing that look in Astarion's eyes for the rest of his life, for as long as he possibly could.

Tav gave him a gentle smile and a soft squeeze of his hand, "Then we will go slow, and figure this out together."

The sunrise was one of the most beautiful either man had seen in a long time.

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

It had been an exhausting few days for the group. Lae-zel insisted that they make the trek to Crèche Y'llek to seek a cure for their tadpoles before they head into the Underdark. It had gone from bad to worse; the path to the crèche had been littered with dangerous encounters, and the crèche itself had been incredibly perilous. From the zaith'isk being a death trap to Inquisitor Ch'r'ai W'wargaz's betrayal, Tav and his group had barely made it out of the crèche alive. Lae-zel had been distraught the entire time back to their camp and Tav was at a loss of words to help steady the powerful warrior, who was now adrift in a sea of confusion and doubt.

Tomorrow they would set off to the Underdark, to attempt to find more clues as to the weapon called the Nightsong. Tav was honestly excited to see more of the Underdark, though many in his party were apprehensive. Most of them had never delved into the Underdark before and it would be treacherous to navigate. Astarion and Karlach were the biggest dissenters, but Tav knew it was because they both had an aversion to being without the sun once more.

Tav groaned and hissed as he sank his bruised and battered body into the cool and tranquil pond about a half mile from the campsite. It was chilly, but Tav knew the cold would be good for his weary muscles. He slowly sank further until the water was up to his chin, giving his body time to adjust to the temperature. Once it was comfortable, he took a deep breath, dipped below the surface, and swam under the water until his lungs ached. He burst out of the cool waters, shaking the water from his face and hair as he sucked in lungfuls of air.

"You remind me of Scratch when it rains shaking off like that," an unmistakable voice said.

Tav yelped and turned startled, "Shit! Astarion, you've got to stop sneaking up on me like this."

Astarion's giggle was infectious as he gasped out between laughs, "How am I supposed to announce myself to you if you're under the water? Stick my face in there and start yelling? Oh, I know I'll throw a few daggers next time to let you know I'm nearby."

Tav blushed and turned his back on the pale elf who was lounging on the large rocks on the shore of the pond. "Would you be so kind as to throw my soap over here," Tav said attempting to cover his embarrassment with a gruff tone.

"Hmmm," Astarion hummed thoughtfully, "I've never been called a kind man before, but I believe for you, I can stoop to such a low description." Tav heard a plop as his soap landed in the water next to his elbow. Thankfully the soap was in a net bag with a large cork to hold it afloat.

"Thank you," Tav replied and began washing himself in the waist-high water. He focused on scrubbing as much of the blood, sweat, and dirt as he could from his body, determined to not think about the elf that was probably watching the display. He dunked himself one more time to rinse the last dregs of soap from his hair and body. He felt markedly better from the cool waters and the pleasant fragrance of his soap. He turned back to Astarion who was reclining on the rocks, his back to Tav, looking akin to a languidly lounging cat in a sunbeam, even though the sun was already hiding behind the trees.

Tav made his way back to the shore, found his towel next to his pack, and quickly dried himself off before slipping into his relaxing camp clothes. "All yours now," Tav said simply at Astarion.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I probably should.." he replied turning to watch Tav as the half-elf dried his hair, "You can stay if you'd like. I may need someone to wash my back for me," he said, his voice and face flirtatious.

"I think you'll manage without my help," Tav scoffed and settled his towel around his neck.

Astarion gasped dramatically like the words wounded him, "Darling, I'm hurt! Though you're right, I wouldn't mind your company, regardless. You can stay here and keep an eye out for anything dangerous, while I'm vulnerable in the water!"

Tav snorted a laugh shaking his head, "Fine." He took a cross-legged seat next to Astarion and faced away from the water. Astarion stood but before he moved away he pressed a quick kiss to the top of Tav's head then left to undress. Tav could hear the elf's sharp exhale at the cold water and the rapid expletives that flew out of his mouth the entire time.

"How in the blazes did you stand this water? It's freezing! Usually, I'm quite impervious to the cold, but this is on another level. Hells! Damn you for not telling me it was this cold. I wouldn't have gotten in if that was the case! My balls have certainly shriveled to raisins at this point, fucking hells!"

Tav snickered to himself and plucked a few thin strands of reed from the edge of the grasses next to the rock he sat on and began to deftly weave them. He wasn't sure why he knew how to weave but he found that it gave him something to do with his hands during moments like this.

By the time Astarion was returning to shore Tav had woven a crown of reeds. He kept his back to the elf as Astarion spoke, "There's something I was hoping you could help me with?"

Tav turned and saw that Astarion had dressed but stood there without his usual white shirt. His silver curls were turned into a dark grey from the water and a few of them still stuck to his neck, small drops of water sliding down the elf's pale chest and neck. Tav swallowed and forcefully made himself focus on Astarion's face and words.

"I need…Well, what I was wondering is…if maybe - perhaps - you might take a look at my back," Astarion said frustration clear in his voice as he shrugged helplessly.

"Oh, did you get injured earlier?" Tav stood worry creasing his brow.

"No, not earlier…just…here," Astarion stammered then turned his back to Tav. His shoulders were stiff and the tension in his body was apparent, but what caught Tav off guard the most was the viciously carved sigil on Astarion's back. He had no idea that this had been lurking on the pale elf's back this entire time. Tav's stomach twisted and he felt white hot anger searing through his stomach.

"What, the hells, Astarion. Did Cazador do this to you?!" Tav said through gritted teeth, his voice shaking from the rage. His jaw ached from the effort of keeping the red from filling his vision.

Astarion sighed and looked back at Tav and was taken aback by the half-elf's grim expression, "Ah! Yes…he…it was a…gift from him. A poem. Something he gave to all of his vampire spawn. He carved it in a single night and made many…many revisions as he went."

Tav forced the boiling rage to a simmer inside of him though he still had trouble getting his voice under control, "I see. Do you…do you know what it says?"

"Sadly, I've yet to find a mirror that works for vampire spawn," Astarion said the smirk not quite reaching his eyes.

"Then…let me be your mirror," Tav said as he stepped closer to Astarion and turned the elf again to focus on the jagged runes as he let his mind brush against Astarion's own.

Astarion let him in and their minds entwined as Tav showed him the scars. Astarion gasped softly and mumbled, "What in the Hells…what did he do to me?"

Tav said, "Perhaps we could ask the others? They could know something more or even point us in the right direction to translating this…poem."

Astarion shifted and half turned back to Tav, his mind closing off from Tav's as he spoke, "No! No, let's keep this between us for now. I…I want to absorb this a bit longer before we drag anyone else into this." He turned to look out at the tranquil water of the pond, his voice soft, "For two centuries I carried this, this wretched thing. Now I've finally seen what he did to me."

"When you're ready, we can see what the others think, and if they don't have any ideas, we'll keep on searching," Tav said determinedly.

Astarion looked back at him, the ghost of sorrow hovering around the corners of his eyes and mouth, "Thank you, by the way. I…I'm not used to showing others my weaknesses."

Tav simply nodded and turned to pick up the woven reed crown from where he had been sitting. "Here. I don't know how my fingers knew how to do this but, well, I think it would look dashing on you," he said lamely giving a crooked smile to Astarion as the elf pulled on his shirt.

After adjusting his collar Astarion took the crown, giving it an appraising look, "This was well done." He delicately placed it on his head and gave Tav a playful pose.

Warmth bloomed in Tav's chest as he looked fondly at Astarion in the rapidly darkening woods. He felt his mind slip into Astarion's again and he gasped in sync with the pale elf.

"Sorry, I didn't-"

"That's what I look like?!"

They stared at each other with wide eyes. "Y-yes…to me…anyways," Tav stammered, feeling that warmth in his chest rising to his cheeks. He kept his eyes on Astarion as their minds mingled together. He kept a tight hold of his feelings, scared that if he let those bleed through the link, he would scare the pale elf away. Being delicate wasn't something that came naturally to him, but he worked hard to always do so around the vampire spawn.

A soft oh escaped Astarion's lips as he stepped closer, the fascination on his face was almost child-like. Tav focused on Astarion's face, slowly roving the elf's face and he knew Astarion could see it all. He hoped the elf liked what he saw because Tav did and he let that feeling escape through his chokehold on his emotions.

The link faded gently and their minds were once again their own. "Well then, at least these tadpoles are occasionally useful," Astarion said ruefully after clearing his throat.

"Sorry again, I was just…thinking of how much I enjoy your company and I guess the tadpole picked up on that," Tav said apologetically as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

Astarion shrugged and looked away from Tav's eyes, "I didn't mind."

"Any time you want to look at yourself, just let me know," Tav said seriously as he picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder, "We should head back however, Gale doesn't like it when I'm late to dinner."

Astarion sneered as he gathered his pack, "I don't know how you can eat what that wizard cooks up for us. Good thing I don't have to eat."

"Oh come now, Gale's a surprisingly good chef. It's honestly a testament to how good he is because sometimes we have shit all for ingredients and he always manages to make a decent meal out of it," Tav said, nudging his shoulder into Astarion's as they walked side by side back towards the camp, "You really should try it sometime, you might be pleasantly surprised."

"I might be convinced to have a taste; however, I'll need something a bit more filling afterward," Astarion said slyly, looking at Tav out of the corner of his eye, a smirk slowly curling the corners of his lips.

Tav hummed noncommittally as he pointedly didn't meet Astarion's eyes, looking everywhere but at the pouting elf. He couldn't help the smile that spread on his face as he responded and linked his pinky with Astarion's as they walked, "I wouldn't dare to deny you that, love."

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

Read on AO3 (recommended)

Chapter 3: The Earth Below

[rinwellisathing]

You're Awful, I Love You: Part 23

Enver Gortash/Trans Male Tiefling Durge

Sentry barely processed the world around him until he had fully left the sewers, breathing in the fresh air of the city. Well, as fresh as the lower city air in Baldur's Gate could be. He made his way to one of the corner book hawkers, examining the titles available.

“Vampires are popular this year, huh?” He asked, picking up one with a dark haired, red eyed man in noble clothing on the cover. “But here in Baldur's Gate? You'd have had better luck selling one set in Waterdeep or Neverwinter.” He set it down and looked over the others.

“Well, this is fiction of course, but it's based on true events!” The Dragonborn woman whispered excitedly. “They say there's a nobleman in the city who is a real vampire lord!”

Sentry chuckled and shook his head. “Next you'll be telling me you believe there's a Bhaalist cult in the sewers and Sarevok Anchev is auditioning assassins for it.”

“Well, a vampire lord is less far fetched than that.” The woman folded her arms. “Are you going to buy today, or just critique, Mr. Ojeda?”

“Alright, alright Saffy, I'll take this one.” Sentry picked up one with a masked man on the cover holding a swooning woman in a fine bardic ensemble. “I'm finding myself more and more willing to try the romantic ones lately.”

“Someone special in your life?” The woman asked, gem-like blue eyes searching Sentry's face curiously.

“You could say that.” He paid and placed the book in his satchel, continuing on his way.

Back at Gortash's home, Bane's chosen found himself poring over old notes and stolen tomes he'd spirited away with him when he had escaped the House of Hope. Diagrams and old Netherese writings explained the artifact and its use, but none of that was helpful when he considered where it was, and of course there was no denying its location. After all, how many times had Raphael drunkenly ranted about his long desired prize being snatched up by his father for his own collection, 'kept as some museum piece' as opposed to being used to rule. But Raphael was vain, stupid, short sighted. Gortash was sure even the Cambion's followers knew that. To rule the hells was simplistic, narrow. Why not rule, well, everything? Gain the ability to conquer every plane of existence. It would just take a powerful enough being under his control, well, his and a partner's. He could not do this alone, nor would he have to. It would be fitting that the one who brought this idea back to mind, who inspired this plan with one earnest gift, rule by his side.

He spelled it out plainly as he could in a message to his Dread Executioner, deciding to use a blood red ink, knowing it would catch Sentry's fancy. The message was signed with the hand of Bane in the bottom corner, knowing names would be a poor idea to write down on such a message. He also paused considering what messenger could be trusted to deliver it, and soon his dilemma was resolved as the scent of rot and blood filled the air.

“So you are the Master's concubine.” A grating little voice disrupted his pondering.

“And who exactly are you?” Enver raised a brow, almost amused at the overdressed, diminutive being glaring at him from his fire place.

“Sceleritas Fel, butler and faithful servant to my Lord Chosen Sentry Ojeda, The Dread Executioner.” The little man sniffed with an air of self-importance, puffing himself up.

“Ah, I see...Then you can bring him this message. It is, after all, your job to see to his affairs.” Gortash smirked, sure to make the expression as condescending as possible.

“His....affairs...yes, and his affair with you must be ending! You are not of proper birth to share a bed with my dear, despicable master.” Fel huffed, pointing a gnarled claw at Gortash, circling him like a predator, but indeed seeming more like a small, disgruntled dog to The Tyrant.

“I hardly think someone of Mr. Ojeda's standing takes advice from his staff.” Gortash rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair. “So, will you deliver the message or have you worn out your welcome here already?”

Fel opened his mouth to speak, then looked taken aback for a moment, ears twitching as though listening to something. “But...but master, I....” He cleared his throat. “Yes, very well. It seems my young master's father sees value in whatever this message contains. Give it here.” He reached out his boney hand.

“Good. I knew you'd see reason.” Enver handed Fel the rolled parchment. “You can return here with his response as soon as he's ready.”

Fel snatched the parchment, grumbling as he stormed back towards the fire place, disappearing in a puff of blood red motes.

[nullcanary]

songfic tag game!

Thank you @lamortwrites for the tag!

tagging: @fenharael @wraith-caller @no-braincells-inc @nnairdav if you feel like playing! If you want to join in, go ahead and tag me :)

Pick a song to accompany each of your fics or as many as you like. This might be the fic's inspiration or just pure vibes that you'd like to share with readers. Tag as many people as fics you feature (or do as you please!)

took me a moment to get to this, but it's been on my mind since you tagged me! while I've only publically posted one of my fics, I've still got several in my WIPs folder that I'm polishing up to post one of these days. I love finding a new song, listening to it on repeat, and diving into an hours long writing spiral.

The Night House (bg3, gortash/durge, explicit, dominate person/throat fingering/blood pacts, m/m, 4.9k)

title: Paranoic Intervals/Body Dysmorphia by Of Montreal

Counting wolves in your paranoiac intervals

Nobody's leaving, nobody is off the beat

You shouldn't try to unpeel my Pavlovian bells

You should be fucking with no one else

Anyone but me is an antipathy

Anyone but me is just your enemy

Only I see you the way you want to see yourself

You should be fucking with no one else

[bonus song]

title: Up To No Good by The Hoosiers

Don't get too comfortable with the man who has no history

Shadows climbing walls hide cracks we don't want other eyes to see

You tell me to shut my mouth, you love the mystery

So he tells you love you now?

Driving you crazy how

Fingers on lips, allow his hands on your hips

You know you shouldn't do this

But there's no turning back

Doctor's Orders (dos2, loshe/doctor|adramahlihk, explicit, possession/masturbation, m/f, 1.9k)

title: Mx. Sinister by I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Oh you never seem to notice

That my heart beats for you

So I'll open you up

And make yours beat for me too

And I'll get you yet

I've got to make you mine

Worst Impressions (elden ring, varré/tarnished, explicit, gore/torture/drugging, m/f, 2.8k)

title: Flip by Glass Animals

Here's to the one with the smoking stare

Running through my head with a bolo knife

Chopping up the threads made up from looms

Of love and blood and hate and some empty tunes

Mechanics of Affection (bg3, dark urge/gortash look-a-like, explicit, vivisection/masturbation/crisis of faith, m/f, 2.5k)

title: Mongrel Heart by Broken Bells

Would it be wrong

To clamp down on your racing heart, Love?

And if they'd known, what sifted down to be found out?

It's not what you deserve

Love is turning you out

Sliding worry round

I try to warn its waiting game

To bring that specter down

Letter to an Old Friend (bg3, gortash/durge, angst/reunions/memory loss, 1.5k)

title: The Opposite of Loneliness by foyer

I can tell you all the ways that it goes wrong

I can fill you in on everything since you've been gone

Hold your shadow next to mine the shape that you outgrew.

Bootlicker (bg3, tav/gortash, explicit, bootlicking/desk sex/dubcon, m/f, 3.6k)

title: Hatefuck by The Bravery

What would they say now if they saw you in this place?

Naked and breathless, could you live with this disgrace?

Could you live? Could you live? Could you live with this?

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness

When the Coat Drops (bg3, gortash/durge, angst/loss/emotional breakdowns, 2.9k)

title: Through Me (The Flood) by Hozier

The unemployment of the mouth

The waking up, having forgotten

And remembering again the full extent

Of what forever is

With each grave

I think of loss and I can only think of you

I couldn't measure it

The Black Hound (bg3, gortash/durge, explicit, a/b/o, knotting/praise kink, m/m, 3.5k)

[ this song is so goddamn hot and I will apply it to every ship forever until the end of time end tweet]

title: Fever Moon by Kevin Devine

You're quick sand

And every morning say I won't get stuck again

I work and fight but just sink deeper in the end

But by nightfall baby here I always am

I tie myself in knots

You come and shake me loose

I'm bound up in you

We push til you're through

Lit up with the proof