#moonrise transmascs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littlemourningstarr · 6 months

Text

Headspin

Meeting other drow, being propositioned to work at a brothel, and running into vampires feels like just a normal day for Sekh, at this point. But what feels exceptional is Astarion admitting he misses him, every aspect and inch.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, fantasy racism, soft Astarion, fluff, bath scene, edging, masturbation, vaginal fingering, blow jobs, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, dirty talk, cum play

Sekh stared at what seemed like just a quaint little building, as his companions around him bickered over if they were willing to go in.

Gods it was just a brothel.

“Absolutely not,” Wyll said.

“Scared of a little temptation?” Karlach asked, raising her brows and elbowing him. Wyll tried to push her off, but Gale echoed Wyll’s sentiment of having no desire to go in.

“We’re not going in for fun,” Sekh pointed out, only to have Astarion fold his arms and frown, as if he disagreed. Sekh chose to ignore him. “Look, we don’t all need to go in. We just need to find Valeria- it can’t be that hard. Besides-” Sekh cast a glance past the group at Yenna, who was looking around her in awe- as if she had never gotten this far into Wyrm’s Crossing, “I’m not bringing a child in there. I’ll go in-”

“And me,” Astarion pointed out, and Sekh just sighed.

“-And Astarion,” he added. “The rest of you can give the rest of the crossing a look- see how bad the bridge is into Wyrm’s Rock.” Sekh really didn’t want to relive the mess of getting past the last gate. Thank the gods they had helped those Iron Hand Gnomes, back at Moonrise. He wasn’t interested in his first real night in the city being spent in a jail cell.

Gale and Wyll seemed more than happy with this- but Karlach and Shadowheart both frowned, speaking over each other that maybe they had wanted to go in. Shockingly, Halsin seemed to not care- but he was quite distracted with Yenna, and Sekh was glad for that.

Lae’zel just looked bored.

“Okay, fine,” Sekh said, as Shadowheart and Karlach continued to argue the decision. He was going to get a headache already and the day had barely begun. “You two come with us.” Karlach looked about to burst with excitement, and Shadowheart grinned, looking like a predatory cat.

Oh gods he was going to regret this, wasn’t he?

Decision finally made, the four headed into Sharess’s Caress. It was lively inside, despite that it was early- the entrance room framed with a bar that boasted plenty of patrons already. Music could be heard from a neighboring room. Sekh had barely gotten to register anything beyond that, when a woman greeted them from a little desk, facing the door.

She clapped her hands together once, nearly cooing when her eyes caught sight of Sekh. “Oh, another drow. How lovely. Come here darling- what’s your pleasure?” Sekh turned to her, took in the wild blonde hair piled atop her head, her face older but attractive, lips painted the most vibrant red. Her dress cut so far up her thigh he could see the crease of flesh from her pelvis. “No no, let me guess.”

Sekh folded his arms, cocked a hip- intrigued. She studied him for a moment longer, before she snapped her fingers, a grin finding her face.

“I’ve got it- a sturdy dwarf, a leather whip- she gives, you receive.”

Sekh laughed, felt a bit of color rising on his cheeks. “Not my first choice,” he said, and she frowned, even as Karlach asked if she could take her up on that option. “But apparently my friend here might be interested.”

And, okay, there wasn’t really time- but if Karlach wanted to pay some coin for a little fun, Sekh wasn’t going to stop her. She deserved it, after so many years of forced celibacy.

He would have gone utterly mad.

The woman’s frown deepened, creasing her brow. “Unfortunately Ffion has gone missing, or I’d send you right up to her room- Elminster’s Library.”

Astarion barked a laugh so hard and loud he had to cover his mouth and turn away. Sekh heard him mutter oh I cannot wait to tell Gale.

This was going to be a long day, Sekh was sure.

“We do have options for other company, of course,” the woman said, now eyeing Karlach. “Drow twins, just through the curtains. There is nothing their skilled hands cannot fix.” She turned just her eyes back to Sekh. “Drow do quite well here, sweetling. If you might be interested in some work, you have a look that I know our customers would eat right up.”

Sekh fumbled for words for a moment- but a moment was enough time for Astarion to curl an arm around his waist, nearly draping himself against Sekh. “I don’t share him,” he said, and the look in his eyes was almost predatory.

Sekh suppressed a shiver.

The woman grinned then, offering a little chuckle. “Oh, now I see your type. I did have you all wrong. Still,” she waved them off, “I’m sure you bend the pretty little thing over and use him quite well.” She turned her attention completely back to Karlach, even as Shadowheart began laughing so hard she had to walk away. Astarion simply stared, eyes a little wide, completely caught off guard by the woman’s brass response.

Sekh chuckled himself, managed to say, “Oh I like her.” Astarion frowned, pulled away so he could face Sekh properly. “She has some nice ideas.”

He couldn’t keep the heat from his voice, or the way he knew his eyes were devouring Astarion. But the prospect of watching Astarion fall apart, of having his fingers inside him-

Well, Sekh quite liked it.

Astarion cleared his throat, glanced away- but Sekh could see just the faintest flush, to his eyes. He took the single step to him, leaned in and placed a very soft kiss to his cheek. “If you’re ever ready, know that I’m willing.”

Astarion moved to speak- but whatever he said disappeared in the excitement as Karlach was suddenly off, into the depths of the brothel. Lost to them, Sekh figured. Well, good for her.

They headed further in, turning into a curtained room where the music grew louder. The room had a liveliness to it, a few patrons enjoying their drinks, watching not only the music, but a gorgeous tiefling woman draped in jewels, dancing along a stage.

She was breathtaking.

Sekh elbowed Shadowheart, who followed his stare, her eyes going a bit wide, locking on the woman and not once leaving her. Astarion noticed their distraction, seemed content to watch as well for a moment.

Sekh forced himself to look away, noticed that across the room were a pair of drow. He said something to his companions, but it seemed to fall on deaf ears, as he turned and walked towards them.

“My, my,” the woman said, her eyes trailing down the length of Skeh’s body in a slow, lazy pace that seemed obscene and yet wonderful. “Aren’t you a special one- I can tell from just a glance.” Her smile was controlled but still petty. The man next to her folded his arms, gave Sekh an even longer once-over.

Sekh felt his pulse pick up. Still, he was more excited to see other drow. He hadn’t expected any in the city. “I didn’t expect to see other drow here.”

The woman smiled, and offered out her hand. “Nym,” she said, and Sekh took it, pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Her smile grew, her eyes dancing in amusement. “And my brother, Sorn.”

“Pleasure,” the man said, stepping closer, taking Sekh’s free hand, and flipping it, pressing his mouth to his wrist. He glanced up at Sekh, could easily feel the momentary spike in his pulse.

“The feeling is mutual,” Nym said, “I can’t say we’ve seen many other drow lately. Just an endless line of surface dwellers.” She didn’t seem bothered by the fact- Sekh’s look must have given away a hint of concern, because she waved him off. “Your look is sweet, honey. Trust me- we’re much happier here, kissing the man lips of the surface, than tending a shop or- gods, manning a farm back in the Underdark.” She shuddered, and the man, Sorn, laughed.

“It’s very true, everyone is always so intrigued by us.”

“Life is easy, here.”

Sekh smiled, his concern melting away. If they wanted to use the surface’s curiosity about drow to their advantage- let them. He didn’t blame them. He couldn’t even say he hadn’t done it himself.

“Well, we are immaculate,” he teased, “how could they resist us?” That got him a round of laughter from both, and Sorn was reaching for him, taking his hand.

“You are a pretty thing,” he mused, “if you were interested, I would love to see how wicked you could be. Or,” he nodded towards Nym, “you can be as sweet as you like, with my sister.”

Well, that explained their resemblance. It didn’t even register as strange, to Sekh. He’d seen plenty, growing up. Heard far more than he should have, about his father’s work.

“I’m flattered,” Sekh said, “but I do have a…” he paused, settled on, “partner.”

“Oh?” Nym looked intrigued. “Four can be quite a party.”

And wasn’t that just a novel, lucious idea. Sekh had to admit to himself it was so tempting- to get to see Astarion fall apart, under another’s hands. He didn’t feel threatened by it in the slightest- Astarion was his, when the day ended.

And he was Astarion’s.

But… “I don’t think now is a good time for that,” he said, and Sorn actually frowned, said, what a pity. Sekh hadn’t even bedded Astarion properly since before they had reached the shadow cursed lands- he couldn’t fathom asking the vampire if he’d be alright sleeping with strangers, when he wasn’t even sure Astarion was comfortable with him, again.

Although, the man had welcomed Sekh’s presence, yesterday morning- in his tent, when Sekh had found him. He’d wanted Sekh’s touch, asked for it.

Maybe he’d want all of Sekh again, soon. Or maybe he wouldn’t- whatever the case, Sekh would accept it. He might have quite the fondness for sex, but his affection towards Astarion went well beyond that.

As if his thoughts could summon the vampire, Sekh was startled to suddenly feel his hand, on his lower back, as he leaned in slightly, taking in the other two drow. And making a very quick decision on what he seemed to think was going on.

“I’m sorry pet,” he said, and Sekh thought his eyes looked sad, “I’m not quite ready for this yet.”

“I wasn’t even thinking-” Sekh stared, a moment of terror taking hold. He didn’t want Astarion to think Sekh was willing to look elsewhere for release, if Astarion wasn’t ready. He didn’t want him to feel threatened, feel like he might owe Sekh sex-

“He already turned us down,” Nym said, smiling at them both. Her smile seemed real now, relaxed. “Quite the charming man you have- and quite the devoted one, to turn down the both of us for you. Although,” she took Astarion in, a quick glance that felt almost polite, despite what it was. “I can certainly see why.” She turned back to Sekh, “if you ever change your mind, come find us here. We’ll be happy to spend some time with you both. Or,” she paused for a moment, and her smile grew, “if you just want some company. We know the surface can be strange for drow.”

Sekh relaxed. He’d like that, honestly. Both options, if he was honest- but the sex could wait, indefinitely if Astarion said so.

Having another friend though? That was very welcome.

They found Valeria already half a bottle of wine deep, and unwilling to listen to them, even when presented with a murder weapon. The damn dried blood was still caked on the vile looking dagger. But it wasn’t enough for her.

Sekh had been very tempted to try and scare the damn thing into listening- but he hadn’t wanted to cause a scene in the brothel. He wasn’t trying to be permanently banned on his first visit. With mounting frustration, he left Sharess’s Caress, Astarion by his side. Shadowheart had stayed behind to wait for Karlach, and promised to find them shortly.

“The murders have something to do with all of this,” Sekh said, tapping on his forehead. As if on queue, his tadpole squirmed, and he grimaced. Gods he hated that feeling. “I just don’t know what yet- and it’s not like that stupid hollyphant would listen to reason anyway.”

He was scowling without meaning to. Astarion chuckled slightly, arms folded. “You’re a moment away from pouting, my sweet. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t let the drunkard get to you.”

Sekh sighed, but tried to relax. Astarion had a point- they would figure it out, because that was what they did. What they had been doing, since the Nautiloid. What they would continue to do.

Frankly, he just didn’t care for hollyphants. Asskissers to the divine, mostly. But he kept that to himself.

“Listen, about the drow,” Sekh said, feeling like they had brushed that off far too quickly- they had left and immediately gone back to business. “I wasn’t… I don’t want you to think I was looking elsewhere.”

Astarion shifted a little, and while he tried to appear cocky, with his shoulders squared and his chin lifted- Sekh could see through it. There was a muted panic, in his eyes. “You can look all you want, but I don’t see why you’d ever need to.”

Astarion didn’t believe his own bluster. It made Sekh’s chest cramp. He reached for the man, settled a hand on the curve of his waist, stepping so close he could smell the bergamot on Astarion’s skin.

“You’re right, I don’t need to.” Sekh inclined his head a little, made sure to keep Astarion’s stare- wouldn’t let the man look away. “You’re everything I’ll ever need, Starshine.”

Astarion let out the smallest of breaths, his stare wavering. He cleared his throat after a moment. “Don’t be so nice to me.” His voice was laced with mock annoyance, as if he wasn’t even trying to make it convincing. “It makes me want to be nice back.”

Sekh laughed then. “Oh what a shame. I guess you’ll just have to be nice to me.” He leaned in, pecked Astarion’s cheek- but before he could pull back, the vampire was reaching up, grasping his chin, holding him steady as he turned and stole a far deeper kiss.

Sekh sighed into it, eyes fluttering shut, utterly undone in a single breath. He’d gladly kiss Astarion until the sun burnt out. He’d kiss him into the endless darkness that followed.

“If I’m everything to you, darling,” Astarion whispered, “you should kiss me like I am.”

He was still so close, Sekh could feel his breath, with each word. “I don’t want to overstep,” Sekh admitted, and Astarion frowned, pulled back much to Sekh’s dismay. The vampire sighed, bowed his head, rested his forehead on Sekh’s shoulder.

“I’m sick of waiting,” Astarion mumbled, his hands moving to Sekh’s waist, squeezing affectionately. “I miss you.” Those hands slid to his hips, pulled Sekh against him- and the drow shivered. “I want you.”

Sekh forced himself to take a single, deep breath. He forced himself not to shove the vampire to the ground right there and climb into his lap, create a spectacle for all of Wyrm’s Crossing.

But gods was it difficult.

“And every bloody night i think I’m finally going to get you,” Astarion added, “someone else takes you.”

Sekh frowned. Yes, Shadowheart had interrupted what might have been their first night together in so long- but Astarion hadn’t hinted at his desire the previous night-

Oh.

Sekh forced Astarion to straighten up. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t think… Yenna seemed so nervous alone, and nearly jumped on the chance to have some company. I wouldn’t have-”

“You would have,” Astarion corrected, “even if you knew. Because you’re… sweet.” There was something then, in Astarion’s eyes. Something that didn’t feel right. Sekh wasn’t sure what it was, a sadness, an anger- he couldn’t decipher it, and before he could ask, Astarion was pulling back, turning Sekh away from him and the brothel, towards another building. “We’re never going to get anywhere just standing here making a spectacle,” he said, and Sekh didn’t argue-

But he filed away his questions, refusing to forget whatever had crossed Astarion’s eyes.

The building they entered next Astarion recognized, quite well. He told Sekh he’d found so many victims for Cazador here. There was a look of remorse, on his face, as he admitted it.

Sekh only took his hand, laced their fingers together, and squeezed. There wasn’t anything to say- what was done was done. But Astarion had never had a choice. He wasn’t guiltless, per say, but he need not carry the weight of it on his shoulders.

That fell to Cazador himself.

They began up the stairs. Sekh wasn’t exactly sure what they were looking for- but if this had been a haunt of Astarion’s, he felt they should give it a proper look through. They still knew nothing about the ritual aside from what its end goal was- and if they wanted to stop it, they needed details.

At the top of the stairs they heard voices, from an open room to the left. Sekh watched Astarion tense, then- as if in recognition. Before Sekh could ask, Astarion raised a hand, holding up a finger to silence him.

“Soon, sister. I just need one more mark.” A man’s voice. Astarion bristled at it- one he knew, Sekh was sure.

“We have enough for the master- no more are needed.”

“This will be for me, not the master. I’ve spent one hundred years feeding on dogs and rats. I want to be able to feast. And so, so soon.” His words dripped with hunger, one that Sekh recognized, from Astarion.

These had to be his kin.

“I want someone ready, waiting, so that when the Master grants my freedom, I can drink. Them. Dry.”

Astairon moved then, briskly barging into the room. Sekh had to hurry to keep up. “Cazador promised you your freedom?” He was nearly yelling the words, pausing only a step from the two. Sekh paused at his shoulder, taking them in- red eyes like Astarion, only glowing in a way that screamed magic. A noticeable tether to Cazador.

The two stared at Astarion, those red eyes going wide.

“And you bloody well believed him?” His expression changed to one of disgust, as he leveled his stare at the blond man. “You were never burdened with intelligence, Petras,” he spat his name like it was laced with poison, “but your load seems especially light, these days.”

The man was scowling at Astarion, the tips of his fangs visible. The woman had a much softer look directed at his vampling- but no less surprised. “Astarion?” She asked. Sekh liked her voice, even after only one word. “It cannot be…”

Astarion held his arms out, chin lifted- looking smug and regal. “That’s no way to welcome back a brother, Dal.” He paused, and then added, “Didn’t you miss me?”

It was meant to sound cocky, but something about it was sincere. Something about Astarion wanted her to miss him. Sekh had presumed things had never been great with Astarion and the other spawn, but if there was one, just one, who might have cared just a little- well, Sekh might consider setting aside his distaste for the divine to pray for that.

He wanted Astarion to have someone, in every aspect of his life. He wanted his world to be full of someones.

“We thought you were dead.” She spoke as if that would have been the favorable option, to being here. “If not, if you were free- why come back? You got out.” She lifted her hand, as if to reach for Astarion, but Petras reached over, pushed her hand away. Sekh felt his lip twitch over the action.

“Isn’t it obvious, sister? He wants to ascend with the rest of us. He heard of the Master’s plan and came back with his tail between his legs, hoping everything would be forgiven.” The sneer on the man’s- Petra’s- face was ugly. He turned his stare to Sekh, gave him a look that was not only undressing him, but pulling his skin from his bones. “He even brought a gift to get back in the Master’s good graces. You’re too late, brother, the Master has all he needs. But I,” Petras dared to take a step forward, eyes still honed in on Sekh, ignoring Astarion as if he was nothing, had never been and could never be a threat. “Don’t. I don’t think drow would have been my type, but I’m willing to lower my standards.”

Sekh fisted one hand, felt it crackling with a chill of necrotic magic. He was deeply considering knocking the man flat on his ass, but Astarion acted faster. He reached for Petras, wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, and hauled him across the room, into the light of the sun, streaming in through a window.

The moment the light touched Petras, his skin glistened, began to turn a molten silver, flaking away. He gave a shout, mouth turning into a pained grimace- while Astarion stood, utterly untouched.

“Keep your eyes and your pathetic fucking mouth away from him,” he hissed, bared his fangs fully. They looked so much longer than Petras’s. “He’s mine.” He squeezed, choking the unneeded breath from the other vampire. “Now, where is he hiding?” Petras reached up, clutched at Astarion’s wrist, but didn’t have the strength to even threaten his grip. It was iron, unmovable. “Tell me!”

The woman, Dal, moved halfway across the room, past Sekh. She paused just out of reach of the light. “Brother, please! Astarion!”

Astarion glanced at her, when she said his name. Yet he remained firm. Sekh folded his arms, offering up his best glare, directed at Petras.

“Talk or burn. Your choice.” The vampire glanced at him, and there was something so pleasing about seeing his initial confidence replaced by fear. It didn’t take much thought to see Astarion had never gotten on well with this one.

“You heard him. Tell me what I need to know. Now.”

“The Master is preparing his black mass beneath his palace.” Dal, speaking quickly, looking at Astarion with a fear that felt new. “The entrance to a chapel is hidden in the palace- he hid it from us all. We never knew.”

Astarion smirked, turned so his body shielded Petras from the sun, and shoved him. The man stumbled away, safely out of the sun’s reach, panting in pain. Astarion stood firm, letting the sunlight halo him.

“I’m going to stop Cazador.” The way he bared his fangs while saying Cazador’s name was as if he were ready to bury them into his throat.

“What the hells happened to you, Astarion?” Petras reached up, touched his burnt face. It was already beginning to slowly knit itself back together. “What are you?”

Spoken as if Astarion was a god, an abomination, something to be terrified of, in darkness and sunlight. Sekh bristled with pride.

“I’m more than what I was.And I’m not afraid of anything anymore.”

It was a lie. Sekh didn’t believe either of the other vampires caught it- but there was a tick to Astarion’s mouth, a glint in his eyes- he didn’t believe the last bit. At least, not yet.

“No one else can stop him. The sun can’t harm me- he cannot compel me.” He lifted his hand, letting the sun hit it directly, as if him standing, silhouetted by the sun wasn’t enough. He turned his head, beckoned towards Sekh with his fingers, and the drow walked over, took the hand in front of the others, kissed his knuckles while holding Petras’s stare. “And I’m not alone any longer.”

Petras stared, still in shock, jaw going slack- but Dal, she was studying them. Her alarm seemed to have ebbed, now that Petras wasn’t in direct peril. She was looking at Sekh, as if she was trying to read him, determine the thoughts bouncing around in his skull.

Determine if he was genuine.

Sekh lifted his chin- he didn’t need to prove himself to her, yet something in him reared to ugly life at his adoration for Astarion being challenged. “You should go,” he said, not looking at Petras- keeping Dal’s stare completely.

Astarion didn’t seem to notice. “You heard him- before I change my mind on roasting you, brother.” The last word was spat, foul tasting.

Dal tore her eyes away from Sekh, turned her stare back to Astarion. “This isn’t over, Astarion.” In a moment, they were gone in a flourish of red mist- leaving the room oddly silent.

Sekh turned to Astarion, who had a mingling of pity and disgust on his face. “They actually believe Cazador will save them,” he muttered, “poor fools. I’d expect this from Petras- but not Dal.” He turned his gaze back to Sekh, who wanted to ask about the both of them, wanted Astraion to tell him more about his kin-

But it wasn’t the time. “They’ll warn him we’re coming,” Sekh pointed out. While the information they had received was valuable, it also ruined the one advantage they had going for them. Surprise.

“And they’ll be trembling like terrified babes while they do.” Astarion waved the concern off. “They��re no threat to us- they don’t have a choice but to obey him. If anything I…I pity them.” For a moment, the disgust was gone, only the sadness remaining in Astarion’s voice. They faced the same forced fate he had for two centuries, after all.

But Sekh knew they could save them, if they only stopped the ritual.

“Worst of all, they don’t know their fates are already sealed. They’re doomed- it’s just a matter of if their deaths benefit a monster like Cazador, or,” he paused for a moment, a smile growing on his face-

Not a pretty one. It twisted his lips in a malicious way, the very air around Astarion seeming chilled.

“If they serve a greater purpose.” Sekh felt his blood running cold, a stabbing ache in his chest growing. Dread. “We find Cazador and take this power for ourselves. The rite can be mine.”

Sekh had hoped, considered praying, that perhaps Astarion’s initial mention of considering the rite for himself would have passed, faded into memory. He realized now he was so, so wrong.

“They’re your brothers, your sisters,” Sekh pointed out, “your family.”

“Not by choice!” Astarion snapped, reaching out, jabbing a finger into Sekh’s chest. “None of this is by choice! They’re the lot Cazador thrust on me.”

“They didn’t have a choice in the matter either,” Sekh pointed out, reaching up and gently pulling Astarion’s hand from him. “Astarion, are you ready to sacrifice them for this? To what end? What would you gain?”

“I’d rather slaughter someone else’s family, true- but they’re just as guilty as I ever was. Were any of them in my position, they would take the rite within a heartbeat.”

“But they’re not,” Sekh pointed out, “Astarion, only you can make this decision. But you have to know the consequences…”

“The consequences of unlimited power? Of never being afraid again?” The vampire laughed. It lacked the almost silly quality that Sekh loved so much. It rang hollow. The vampire reached for him, gripped his waist and pulled him in. For a moment, Sekh pulled back, just a fraction- Astarion didn’t even notice. “You’re not getting sentimental on me, are you? Your bleeding heart will be the death of us.”

His voice almost didn’t sound like himself. Sekh felt a cold sweat on his spine.

“I thought you were with me on this. I thought you wanted what was best for me?”

Sekh sucked at his own tongue. He did- he wanted Astarion to be safe, happy, loved. And none of that felt like it would stem from this ritual.

Nothing good ever stemmed from power like the divine. A man becoming a god would always undo him. And the last thing Sekh wanted to see was Astarion destroy himself, and the future he had.

“Can we just go?” Sekh asked, hoping that getting Astarion away from the ghost of his siblings might help dispel some of whatever had come over him. Hoping distance might bring back the man who had kissed him moments ago, had made him feel light. The man he loved.

Loved.

“Of course love,” Astarion said, relaxing a little. “It stinks of rat blood and dispair in here anyway.” He let go of Sekh’s waist, but Sekh took his hand again, gripping it perhaps too tightly.

Holding on, fearing if he let go, he’d lose the Astarion he had come to know.

The rest of the day was spent exploring the Flophouse- which proved fruitful, shockingly- and then arguing with the hollyphant over a possible target list they’d found. When she eventually caved and told them to seek out her comrade, it gave them exactly what they needed to get into the city properly.

A pass.

A pass that came with a face to face with Gortash, which ruined whatever fine mood Karlach had gotten from her time at Sharess’s Caress. Yet despite the ugliness, as evening was flooding the city with an orange glow from the setting sun, they finally set foot into Baldur’s Gate.

Sekh glanced around him, the streets bustling with so much life, despite the ever looming threat of the Absolute’s Army. Seemed no matter how close the end of days were, folks would always find time for their nightly activities.

He chose to stay in step behind Karlach and Wyll, who knew the city better than him. He’d expected Astarion to be leading them, but a few paces from the gate he noticed the vampire was nowhere in the group. He paused, glanced around, turned fully-

And found Astarion hadn’t moved from the entrance, was simply looking around, frozen in time.

Sekh left the group, hurrying back, reaching out to place a hand gently on his arm. “Are you alright?” Astarion glanced at him, his eyes looking almost dreamlike.

“After two centuries… you forget how much color there is.” His voice wavered, and Sekh hurt over it. Astarion hadn’t seen his city, his home, in true daylight for almost two hundred years.

Of course he was awestruck.

He was going to wait with him in silence as long as Astarion needed, but suddenly there were hands on his robes, Yenna leaning in, looking between the both of them. Her own eyes sparkled with wonder. “It’s so busy here- there are so many people!”

Astarion snapped from his trance, glanced down at her- and frowned. Without a word he brushed past both Sekh and the girl, hurrying to catch up with the group.

Sekh frowned himself. He didn’t understand why Astarion seemed to have a problem with the girl. He had been fine around Arabella, and the tiefling children at Last Light had grown quite fond of him. What was so different about Yenna?

“Did I upset him?” she asked, looking up at Sekh. Sekh shook his head, offered his hand to her. She gladly took it, and he walked them back towards the group.

“No. This is Astarion’s home, but he hasn’t really seen it in a long time.” He didn’t want to divulge too much- it wasn’t his palace to tell Astarion’s story.

Yenna only nodded, walking in perfect stride with Sekh. They had a destination- The Elfsong- to find the Flaming Fist Valeria had referred them too. Sekh was hoping they might be able to grab some real dinner, as well, before figuring out where they were going to rest their bones for the evening.

“Are you two married?”

The question came after long minutes of silence, as the two were still paces away from the rest of the group. Sekh paused, stared down at Yenna- who looked up at him as if the question made perfect sense.

“You and…” She paused, obviously trying to pull Astarion’s name from memory. “Astarion,” she finally said.

“Why would you think that?”

Sekh’s heart was hammering, and it wouldn’t quell it. A future that he hadn’t dared jump to seemed to be blossoming behind his eyes-

Astarion hadn’t even put a name to what they were now.

“You look at him like no one else is around.” Yenna shrugged a shoulder. “I never knew my dad, but my mom liked to point to couples when they looked like you and tell me they were married. That they didn’t see the rest of us, only each other.”

Sekh cleared his throat, shoving his wild torrent of thoughts aside. He couldn’t think about this now. “No,” he finally said, “we’re not married.”

“But you love him?” Sekh turned his gaze from Yenna, looked at his companions as they grew further and further away. Looked at Astarion, who had buried whatever annoyance he’d had at Yenna, was laughing at a very flustered Gale. The setting sun dazzled his curls in goldens and vermillions, and Sekh could just make out the lines around his eyes, from smiling.

His heart was racing, his body warm- pleasantly so, beneath his skin.

He squeezed Yenna’s hand, and knowing this had been the answer for much longer than he should ever admit, said softly, “Yes. I love him.”

The Elfsong, it turned out, happened to be the answer to all of their problems. Not only did they get support that they were chasing the Bhaalist cult in the right direction- but they got a roof over their heads, for as long as they needed. Sekh had smiled sweetly at the owner and the man had been more than happy to give them the whole upper floor for a price that was far too cheap.

And to find Lakrissa and Alfira again- it was warming, to know they were safe.

The upper floor was spacious, beds lining the parameter, privacy screens placed for some discretion. Sekh felt like he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d slept in a bed.

But the best part had to be the prospect of a bath.

With evening in full swing, it seemed pointless to try and venture further into the city. They needed to rest. The Dead Three could wait until morning. The majority of the party happily headed back down into the pub, eager for a drink and a hot meal.

“Are you coming?” Yenna asked Sekh, as the drow shed his shortsword- still fractured, the tip now a ragged edge. He hoped he might get it fixed- that a blacksmith in the city could smooth the edges for him again. Until then, he’d carry it as is.

His mother would have done the same.

“In a bit,” Sekh said, “I need a bath.” He reached out, tussled the girl’s hair. “You probably do too.”

Yenna pouted, and it made Sekh laugh so hard his belly hurt. “I’ve just been in Wyrm’s Crossing. I think you stink more than I do.” She folded her arms, and Sekh had to urge to grab her and toss her around- throw her on the bed and smack her with a pillow.

He’d never had siblings- he had to wonder if it felt like this.

“I smell lovely,” Sekh said, leaning forward, voice dripping with a sass that had Yenna rolling her eyes. As he did so, Astarion walked over, dropping some of his armor that he had just pulled off on the floor, at the foot of a bed in the corner.

Where Sekh had dropped his shortsword.

“Lovely is a … choice word,” Astarion said in passing, and Yenna cackled. Sekh spun on his heel, staring at Astarion, who glanced over- gave him a teasing smirk.

“You ass,” Sekh said, reaching for him and pulling him closer. “I smell fine.” Astarion squirmed in his hold, but didn’t try to actually escape it. Sekh placed a kiss to his cheek, caught out of the corner of his eye Yenna beaming at them.

Astarion huffed, finally pushing Sekh off. “Perhaps I like how you smell anyway,” he muttered, before he caught sight of Yenna smiling at them. For a moment there was this looking of longing, of wonder in his eyes- like there had been, when they’d first stepped into the city.

And then it was gone, smothered quickly as he turned away, frowning so hard his brows creased. Sekh turned away, focusing back on Yenna as Karlach walked over, wanting to take the girl for herself so they could go have a right, proper dinner.

Sekh was glad for Karlach taking the girl- he wanted to make sure she ate, but he needed a moment to focus on Astarion. The man had shed his armor, had made it abundantly clear that he was claiming the bath first.

Everyone else was more interested in dinner and hadn’t argued.

Sekh took the last few steps to him, placed a hand gently on his lower back. Astarion didn’t even glance back at him- knew who was touching him without a look. Of course he did.

“Can I ask you something?” Sekh asked, quietly, and Astarion huffed.

“You just did.”

Sekh rolled his eyes, slid his arms around Astarion’s waist. The vampire covered his hands with one of his own, as they rested on his belly, Sekh placing his chin on his shoulder. “Funny. Why don’t you like Yenna?”

Astarion went tense in his hold, before he scoffed at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t like her. It’s pretty apparent. You’re not a subtle man, Astarion.” Sekh gave him a gentle squeeze. “Do you just not like kids? I didn’t get that, from how you acted with Arabella and the tiefling kids.”

Astarion didn’t speak, for a long moment. Sekh began to wonder if the man was just going to ignore the question- but then, in barely a whisper, Astarion said, “No.” He pulled from Sekh’s hold, turned to face him-

And Sekh’s heart cracked. Astarion’s eyes looked lost. A sadness had fallen over his face that Sekh hadn’t seen in quite some time. Gods, he hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Children don’t belong around vampires,” he finally said, his voice seeming a bit strained, caught in his throat. “Nothing good will come of it.” Astarion glanced away then, his fingers fidgeting at his sides- as if he wanted to reach out to Sekh, but wouldn’t allow himself. “She’s best off far away from me.”

Sekh reached out then, took one of Astarion’s hands. It felt like his fingers were trembling, as Sekh squeezed them. “Astarion,” he said, and then, softer, “Starshine. You’re not going to hurt her.”

“I may not, but something will because of what I am. Trust me, children do not belong around us. We aren’t allowed the luxury of family.” The words were heated- a deep seated despair that hadn’t been breathed to life ever, if Sekh were to judge. The words were barely out of his mouth before Astarion was pinching his lips shut, pulling his hand from Sekh’s hold. He moved to turn, but Sekh reached for him, slipped his arms around his waist, pulled him into a tight hold, hands splayed on his back, pressed along the ridges of his scars that he could just feel through his shirt.

Astarion didn’t try to pull away this time. He melted against Sekh, pressed his face into the crook of his neck. “You’re allowed everything,” Sekh said, softly, “Astarion, I promise you- whatever you want, it's yours. Whatever that monster did to you, whatever he made you think you can’t have- he’s wrong.” Sekh squeezed him, wanted to gather the man up, cage him in his ribs and keep him safe, sheltered.

Astarion nuzzled against his neck, breathed him in. “You can’t promise that,” he whispered. “But I can, if-”

Sekh cut him off. He didn’t want to hear it- didn’t want Astarion’s mind going down that dark path now. “I can promise it. And I do.” He pulled one hand from Astarion’s back, forced him to lift his head, cradled his cheek against his palm, kept Astarion’s head steady so he was forced to gaze at Sekh. “I told you I’d take care of you. And I will. I meant that, I mean it to my damn dying breath, Astarion. You are everything.” The vampire turned his head just slightly, managed to press his mouth at the base of Sekh’s palm, kissed his warm skin.

The softness, the affection made Sekh’s chest ache. His fingers pressed harder to Astarion’s back.

“Astarion,” he breathed, “I…” The words caught in Sekh’s throat, then. Thick and cloying and true, but a part of him feared it was too much for this man. That he was running where Astarion was content to walk.

He settled on silence, which Astarion took as an invitation to lean in, press a kiss to his lips. Sekh kissed him back, slowly, hand finding his way into his hair. The vampire hummed, opened his mouth for the kiss- seemed content to let the conversation die in favor of this.

Sekh was happy to indulge, but swore to himself he would revisit this.

“Gods, can you two wait until we’re all gone at least?” Astarion paused his mouth’s movements, as Sekh glanced to the side- and Shadowheart was watching, a hand on her hip, the other pinching the bridge of her nose as if they were giving her a headache.

Sekh pulled back, just offered her a sheepish smile, and Astarion moved out of his embrace. The vampire gave Shadowheart a teasing smile, before he headed across the large, open room- heading for the bath, situated behind a few privacy screens. Shadowheart rolled her eyes, turning back to Sekh.

“Please tell me you both aren’t getting in together.”

Sekh choked. “There isn’t room,” he said, knowing Shadowheart knew that. “I just… thought maybe he might want some help with his hair…” He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and Shadowheart laughed at him. Sekh decided this was definitely what it was like to have siblings.

“You two would find a way. Don’t take too long, you need to eat.” Sekh only nodded, and Shadowheart left him, heading out herself. He shrugged out of his robes, leaving them tossed on the foot of his bed-

Astarion’s bed? Their bed? Astarion hadn’t said a word about it, he’d just dropped his own items on the same bed as Sekh and carried on.

Sekh found he was smiling, as he walked across the room, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. He stepped around the privacy screen, found Astarion with his arms out along the wooden bath, head tipped back, looking utterly blissed out. He could see the steam from the water.

“Enjoying yourself?” Sekh asked, and Astarion didn’t even open his eyes, simply hummed an affirmation. Sekh got down on his knees, ran his hands along Astarion’s outstretched arms. “Need a hand?”

This time the vampire cracked his eyes open, glanced at Sekh. Those eyes teased, and Sekh laughed himself.

“I meant that as innocently as possible,” he admitted, and Astarion lifted his head properly, arms sliding from the bath into the hot water.

“How dull.” Still, Astarion smiled. “But if you want to be helpful, I wouldn’t say no.”

Sekh took the invitation, reaching for one of the bottled soaps, as Astarion dipped himself awkwardly under the water. He came back with his curls drenched, as Sekh lathered the soap onto his hands. Once the vampire was settled again, Sekh worked the suds into his curls, fingers scratching softly against Astarion’s scalp. The man sighed, eyelids fluttering shut, as Sekh seemed to work each individual curl as if they were made of glass.

When Sekh finally pulled his hands free, Astarion dipped under the water again, working his own hands through his curls to free them of the suds. Sekh took advantage to grab one of the tiny hunks of solid soap, and the moment Astarion was back out of the water, curls wet and flung into his face, Sekh was guiding him back, dragging the soap down along his chest.

Astarion arched slightly, head tipping back, resting against Sekh’s shoulder, hair soaking through the fabric instantly. Sekh didn’t care. He got his other arm around Astarion, pressed his hand flat to his chest as he worked the soap down along his abdomen, then back up, slowly covering each inch of him.

When Astarion tried to reach up, brush his hair from his face, the hand on his chest batted him away. Sekh pushed his wet hair back instead, watched Astarion’s eyes open, looking a bit hazy. The vampire bit his lip, one fang poking out between them, and Sekh wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, kiss him sweetly-

Or ravish him until dawn.

He slid his now slick fingers and the soap back down along Astarion’s belly, past his navel, curving towards his hip. Astarion lifted his hips slightly, made a frustrated little noise. “Tease,” he breathed, and Sekh kissed his wet temple.

“I said I was going to help,” he said, “I never said I was going to do anything sordid, sweetheart.” Still he moved dangerously close to the base of Astarion’s cock, felt the man’s body shifting, trying to get to him.

He couldn’t help teasing just a bit.

His next movement dragged the soap to Astarion’s thigh, and then he was leaning over the tub, working it along his bent legs. Another huff from his vampire, but this time Astarion sat still.

Once Sekh had gotten both of his legs he straightened up on his knees, gently pushing at Astarion’s shoulder. “Let me get your back.”

For a moment, Sekh wondered if Astarion might refuse him. The vampire hadn’t shied away from his touch on his scars lately- but Sekh also understood that a layer of clothing could create enough of a barrier to allow for the touch.

But Astarion leaned forward without a word, Let Sekh cup the warm water in one hand and spill it over his back. He shivered, once, at the first touch of the soap against his scars- but it almost didn’t seem bad. After a moment, when he hadn’t pulled away, Sekh asked, “Okay?”

Astarion nodded, and when he spoke, his voice caught in his throat. “Okay.”

Sekh smiled, leaned in and kissed the back of his wet curls, soaping up his scarred skin until the soap had dissolved into nothing in his hands. Once it had, he cupped both his hands together, rinsing the suds away, noting that the water was beginning to cool.

He leaned back, was about to stand up, assuming Astarion wouldn’t want to remain if the water wasn’t scorching. But before he could Astarion had his back pressed to the lip of the wooden tub, was reaching up and back, grasping at Sekh’s shirt, pulling him forward.

The drow was forced to bow over him, as Astarion’s other hand tangled up in his hair, held him still as he pressed a feverish kiss to his lips. Sekh groaned, too shocked to move for the first few moments. It was only when Astarion’s tongue flicked the seam of his lips that he seemed to respond, opening so willingly for him, as water splashed up onto his shirt.

Sekh gasped around the kiss, Astarion’s tongue teasing the points of his teeth, pushing at the plush of his cheeks. He trembled, and Astarion pulled at his hair harder, broke the kiss to let Sekh pant against his wet lips. “I’m going to devour you,” he said, voice low, pulled from his chest.

Sekh bit his own lip, couldn’t even think to answer. His silence seemed to be all Astarion needed- because the man gave him a smirk, before he pushed him back.

Sekh stood, carefully- legs feeling numb from being on his knees, and before he could even turn to give Astarion privacy, the vampire stood up. He didn’t turn to face Sekh, but reached both hands into his own curls, squeezing the water back so it riveted down his back, between his scars.

The drow swallowed thickly, felt the juncture of his thighs throbbing. Astarion glanced back at him, over his shoulder. “You’re staring, darling.”

Sekh felt like he had forgotten every word he ever knew. And that seemed to be the response Astarion wanted from him. The vampire turned then, reached a hand out, beckoned him closer. Sekh took the two steps to the tub, and Astarion grasped his shoulder with one wet hand, used him for balance as he climbed out, before leaning back in, brushing his chest along Sekh’s.

“I’m going to get dressed,” he said, voice soft yet commanding. “I’m going to find something to drain dry- and when I come back, I’m going to pull you apart until you forget everything but. My. Name.” Astarion leaned in, breathed into Sekh’s ear, “You’re mine- and it’s been far too long since I proved that.”

Sekh shivered then, heart hammering so hard his chest ached. He swore he was seeing stars already, little tendrils of heat snaking from his cunt up his belly, taking hold and twisting.

Astarion stepped away, took one last long glance at his drow- and then crossed the room, completely naked, leaving Sekh in a soaked shirt wondering how he’d survive until the man returned.

Bathed, dressed in dry clothes, Sekh made his way downstairs, found the entire party scattered about- looking happy. There was only one absence- Astarion- but Sekh was almost glad for it. If his lover was gone, that meant he was already hunting- and the sooner he had left for his hunt, the sooner he’d be back.

Sekh made his way to a table most of the party had sequestered, was nearly pulled down onto a bench by Karlach. “Wondered if you were ever going to join us,” she teased, pushing a plate of food towards him. “We ordered enough for everyone. Don’t worry- no fish for you.”

Sekh grinned at that. “You’re a blessing,” he said. He knew he was hungry, but it was hard to focus on that need, when another was raging within him. Still- he rationalized he might need some energy tonight.

He must have blushed, because as he was biting into what might have been the best roll of his life, Karlach grinned and simply said, “So, are we all invited to the show, or are we locked out until you two are done?”

Sekh choked, and she laughed so loudly it could have shaken the very building, smacking his back once.

“Teasing!” she said, “relax- I think we all know you two need some quality time together. Fancy boy barely said a word when he came down, I thought he was going to run right through a wall to get outside if it would be the fastest route.” She tossed her arm around Sekh’s shoulder, giving him a one armed hug. “And don’t worry about your little counterpart. Auntie Karlach will keep an eye on her.”

Sekh breathed out a relieved sigh at that. Truth be told, he had been a little worried about Yenna. He was the one who had decided she could stay with them- she was his responsibility, in his eyes. Knowing Karlach would keep an eye on her so he could focus solely on Astarion was a godsend.

“I owe you my life,” he said, pushing the rest of the roll into his mouth. Across the table, Shadowheart caught his eye as she was speaking with Lae’zel- and without breaking conversation, poured him a cup of wine and pushed it across the table.

Karlach waved him off, as Sekh picked up his cup and took a drink. The wine was a mild white, not exactly to his taste, but also not strong enough to make him regret it. He just wanted a bit of courage.

He felt foolish, the excitement building in him like this would be his first night with Astarion. Like he was back at their old campsite, drunk tieflings about, counting down the seconds to when he could sneak off for their first tryst.

He had to smile to himself, thinking about where they were now, and how it felt like they had progressed lifetimes.

He was standing with Karlach and Wyll, when Astarion returned. He wasn’t facing the doorway, was across the pub, near the stairs- yet something warmed in him. He glanced at his hand, holding his wine cup- at his ring, and realized it was mildly warm, buzzing softly. He turned, thinking it had to mean something regarding Astarion-

And the vampire was already quickly crossing the room, heading directly for him- eyes boring a scarlet fire directly into his soul. His curls were wild and soft- having dried in the night air and not been styled. His cheeks had a hint of color- be it from feeding or a chill in the night wind, Sekh didn’t know.

All he knew was that his heart stopped, and then crashed back to life the moment Astarion reached him, cupped the back of his neck with one hand, and pulled him in for an unceremonious but so needed kiss.

Sekh fell into it, kissed Astarion back, matching the fervor the man was pouring into him. His free hand clutched at Astarion’s shirt, his knees feeling weak. Gods, he was so undone.

When Astarion broke the kiss, Sekh tried to chase him- but the vampire pulled back just too far. He took the cup from Sekh’s hand, blindly handing it to Karlach- who seemed too struck by the show to even offer her typical commentary. Then, grabbing Sekh by the wrist, he pulled him towards the stairs, nearly running up them.

As they were disappearing, Sekh heard Karlach announcing to Yenna that they were going for a little adventure. The last thing he heard of the world below was the girl’s ecstatic response-

And then the world was gone, as Astarion pulled him along the upper floor, throwing open the door to their sleeping quarters. It had barely closed when Sekh had his back pressed to it, his vampire boxing him in, greedily taking another kiss.

Sekh melted into it, hands finding Astarion’s waist, squeezing. He could still taste the ghost of blood in his mouth, as Astarion pushed his tongue past Sekh’s lips, kissed him so hard that Sekh swore his lips would bruise.

He rolled his hips forward, into Astarion, as the vampire splayed a hand on the door, the other finding Sekh’s neck, wrapping along it, thumb stroking his throat. The drow shivered, could feel the scrape of Astarion’s nail on his skin, before the hand was gone, and Astarion was suddenly hoisting him up. Sekh gasped, clutched at his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist.

Astarion purred. “I like you like this,” he whispered, and Sekh squeezed his shoulder tighter. He was panting lightly from sheer need already- felt ridiculous over it, and yet couldn’t find the will to try and control or contain himself.

Astarion deserved to know how desperately he wanted him.

The vampire turned, actually began carrying him across the room. Sekh bowed over him, kissed his jawline. “You’re not this strong,” he teased, only to have the hands on his hips squeeze, nails digging into the fabric of his pants.

“Darling, I am divine.” Sekh nipped at his earlobe, got a little rumbled growl from Astarion’s chest. “With you, I can do anything.”

He reached their bed- it had to be theirs, didn’t it?- and tossed Sekh down onto it. Sekh fell without a care, arching on impact, as Astarion crawled over him, slotted between his legs and found his mouth for another kiss.

In the back of Sekh’s mind, the drow knew that if Astarion was this alive, this virile, his dinner hadn’t been animal blood. And yet, he didn’t care. He trusted Astarion enough to believe he wouldn’t have just slit open the first person he met’s throat.

If someone died, they deserved it. He just wished he had seen it.

He would never deny what seeing Astarion take what he needed did to him.

He rolled his hips up, could feel Astarion’s cock, straining within his pants. “I can feel you,” he managed, between kisses. Astarion grunted, ground against Sekh’s pelvis and nipped at his lip. Sekh reached for Astarion’s waist, began pulling at his shirt.

Astarion pushed away from him, got up on his knees and nearly tore his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Sekh sat up then, still pinned beneath Astarion’s legs, hands working almost clumsily at his pants as he pressed his face into his neck, kissed at his pulse.

The vampire tipped his head back, sighing when Sekh finally got his pants unlaced, was able to free his cock. He was so hard already, skin hot in Sekh’s hands as he wrapped it around his shaft, stroked slowly. He dragged his teeth along Astarion’s throat, wanted to bite himself- wondered what sort of noises Astarion might make, if he could break his skin.

Astarion rocked his hips to meet each stroke, breathing coming quicker- before he was reaching for Sekh’s hand, desperately pushing it away. “Darling,” he managed, breathless, and Sekh grinned.

“Don’t want to come yet?” he asked, watched Astarion bite his lip. The vampire took a single breath, as if composing himself, before he climbed off of Sekh, stood up to properly shed his clothing.

“Not without you,” he finally said, and Sekh’s breath caught. “Now, you have ten seconds to remove your clothes, or I shred them myself, pet.”

Sekh thrashed, shoving his clothing down his legs, up over his shoulders. It took more than ten seconds, but Astarion managed to restrain himself.

Just barely.

Sekh was still tugging off his shirt, his last piece of clothing, getting it tangled around his arms over his head, when Astarion’s patience wore out. He climbed onto the bed, grasped the drow’s thighs and shoved them roughly open, groaning because Sekh was soaked- had been since before Astarion even left.

Sekh arched, arms still stuck over his head, and Astarion gave a wicked smile. “I could leave you like that,” he teased, as he stretched out between his legs, hips grinding into the bed the moment he was settled. “In fact,” he purred, his breath warm against Sekh’s cunt, making the drow tremble, “I think I will.”

He dragged his tongue up along Sekh’s slit, from entrance to clit- and the drow gave a cry, eyes squeezing shut. Gods it felt like lifetimes since he’d felt Astarion’s tongue.

The vampire groaned, a mumbled fuck, his fingers pressing with bruising force into Sekh’s thighs. Sekh managed to untangle himself from his shirt, letting it drop off the bed, as Astarion eagerly went back for another taste, lapping at his lips, just teasing his clit enough to keep Sekh squirming.

“Tease,” the drow breathed, hands grasping at the blanket beneath him. It was nice, to be in a bed for once- to not have the hard earth pressing into his bones.

Astarion growled, but otherwise didn’t respond, hips continuing to rock into the bed as his tongue worked Sekh’s cunt. He finally gave the drow the touch he wanted- tongue rolling over his clit, again and again and again, until Sekh was seeing stars, behind his eyelids, gasping for breath.

He hadn’t had release, even by his own hand, since the last time he’d bedded Astarion. The weeks of celibacy had left him desperate, sensitive- and he could feel his orgasm already building, in his belly.

He reached down with one hand, tangled his fingers into Astarion’s wild, soft curls- and pushed. Astarion made a surprised little noise, and Sekh felt him tremble as he was forced closer to his cunt, held there so Sekh could grind against his tongue.

From the eager way the vampire’s tongue danced along the sensitive bud, he was loving it.

“Astarion,” Sekh breathed, “I’m so close.” It made his belly ache, to be right there, dancing along the edge of bliss and yet not tripping over the edge. Astarion made another needy noise, and Sekh could feel the bed shift as he desperately rutted against it, needing friction just as badly as the drow.

Sekh dug his shoulder blades into the bed, one hand twisting the blanket, the other Astarion’s hair, as he found his first release in what felt like centuries. Euphoria washed over him as he cried out Astarion’s name, thighs trembling with the force of his orgasm, body seizing up, wishing desperately to have something inside him, to clench around.

Astarion’s efforts didn’t diminish, his tongue eager, working along Sekh’s clit until it was so sensitive Sekh was squirming, pushing his head away instead of towards him. Astarion fought it for a moment, before he obeyed, moving his tongue instead to Sekh’s entrance. The hands on his thighs moved, spread him open so Astarion would push his tongue just inside him, get a true taste.

Sekh arched again, eyes nearly rolling, behind his eyelids. Astarion’s growl reverberated into his body, echoed in Sekh’s very bones. When he slit his eyes open, it was to the vampire lifting his head, looking at him with pupils so blown his eyes seemed black, lips and chin glistening.

Sekh opened his mouth, to say his name, anything, but Astarion was crawling over him, pinning him down, kissing him fervently. Sekh got his arms around him, dug his fingers into his shoulders, bucked his hips up, felt Astarion’s cock rubbing against his pelvis, smearing precum onto his skin. Sekh shifted his hips slightly, trying to get himself at an angle where Astarion could slide inside him, but the vampire pulled his hips back, exhaling a shaking breath against Sekh’s lips.

“Darling, wait.” Sekh paused, thinking for a moment that perhaps Astarion didn’t want to go farther- and despite the lust clouding his mind, leaving his head foggy, he would never be so beyond himself to not stop.

“Are you okay?” Sekh moved one hand from Astarion’s shoulder to his face, cradled his cheek. The vampire was panting.

“Yes. No.” Astarion swallowed thickly, and Sekh could see the delicious points of his fangs, each time he spoke. As if they would respond to his arousal. “I…” he paused, cleared his throat, and in a softer voice that was embarrassed, admitted, “I won’t last inside you.”

Oh. Sekh relaxed, smiling up at Astarion. “Is that it?” He chuckled, and color flooded Astarion’s face. “Starshine I don’t care.”

“You should,” Astarion retorted, but Sekh shook his head. He let his hand leave Astarion’s cheek, slid it between them, fingers just brushing his cock.

“No, because this isn’t a performance. If you feel that good already- well,” Another ghost of his fingers, and Astarion trembled, “I’m flattered. Besides,” he leaned up, as he wrapped his hand around Astarion, breathed into his ear, “we have all night.”

He gave him a single stroke, and Astarion dropped his head down, rested it on Sekh’s shoulder, hips moving to desperately fuck his hand. His cock was slick with precum, droplets falling onto Sekh’s belly. Sekh smiled, rubbed his hand along Astarion’s upper back, over scars that felt warm, to his touch.

“Do you want to come?” he asked softly, and Astarion gave a desperate nod. Sekh gave his cock another squeeze, before he stroked faster, let Astarion’s hips set the rhythm. Each breath into his neck was coupled with a whine, a groan, until Astarion was sighing in pure relief, body trembling from his very core as his first orgasm took him.

Sekh felt his cum, splashing his belly, down onto his cunt. It was filthy and had him nearly squirming as he continued to stroke, until Astarion was arching his hips away.

The vampire pushed himself up, back up onto his knees between Sekh’s legs, to get a look at him. Unable to help himself, Sekh reached down, fingers moving through Astarion’s cum on his belly, until he was pushing it between his legs- rubbing along his clit once, before his own fingers delved down into his cunt.

Astarion bit his lip again, and Sekh swore the vampire was going to break his own skin. Sekh let out a shaky breath, fucking himself slowly, Astarion’s eyes locked on his fingers movements. When he went to ease his fingers out, Astarion reached for his wrist, squeezed it, pushed his fingers further into him. “Don’t,” he whispered, voice thick, “stop.”

Sekh sucked at his tongue, dug one heel into the bed and lifted his hips slightly, getting his fingers deeper. He thrust them quickly, as Astarion released his wrist, laid a hand flat and low on his belly, so he could rub his thumb over Sekh’s clit.

His other hand moved back to Sekh’s thigh, pushed so his legs were open further. “I could watch you forever,” Astarion admitted. Sekh tipped his head back, squeezed his eyes shut, felt his second orgasm of the night beginning to build, in his belly- stemming perfectly in time with Astarion’s slow rubbing of his clit. His cunt squeezed at his fingers, and he pushed them deeper, mouth falling open as he began to pant, feeling dizzy. Yet Astarion didn’t move any faster- kept a rhythm that was far too calm.

Sekh tried to roll his hips, but Astarion pressed with the hand flat to his belly.

“Don’t be impatient,” he warned, and Sekh could scream that Aastarion was the epitome of impatience- yet he listened, forced himself to still his hips. “Good,” Astarion whispered, his other thumb rubbing soothing circles into Sekh’s thigh. “Do you wish it was me inside you?”

Fuck. “Yes, gods yes.” Sekh whimpered, felt a wave trying to catch hold in his belly- his orgasm receding a moment later, leaving him wanting terribly.

“Why?”

Sekh bit his lip, dug his teeth in so tightly he almost broke skin. Astarion was going to drive him mad. “Because,” Sekh breathed, curling his own fingers, sliding along his sweet spot and making him see stars. “Nothing- nothing feels as good as you.” He craned his neck slightly, to look down his body, could still see smears of Astarion’s cum on his dusky skin.

Astarion hummed, approving. “Do you come better around me?”

Fucking hells- “Yes, yes.” Sekh’s thighs trembling, his orgasm trying to build again. He rubbed his fingertips desperately at that spot inside him, but it just wasn’t enough with how slow Astarion’s thumb was moving- and in a moment the orgasm was fading back into his belly.

The damn vampire knew, from the smirk on his face. Sekh wanted to scream.

Astarion leaned over him then, caught his stare, held it. “Sekh, darling,” he breathed, “can you be a good boy and come now?”

Sekh arched, and Astarion moved just a tick faster. But gods, it was enough. This time when his orgasm welled inside him, it crested, sent his belly and cunt into the sweetest, tightest knots- and then burst. Sekh arched so far his back should ache, shoulders digging into the bed, crying out Astarion’s name, little pleas of yes and more, as he fucked himself through the orgasm, Astarion encouraging him on.

When he finally went lax, his fingers easing from his body, the vampire was grabbing him by his wrist, pulling his hand up, sliding those two fingers into his mouth, along his tongue. He sucked at them gently, tongue rolling around him, getting a taste of Sekh’s wetness, his own cum that the drow had fucked into himself.

When Astarion finally guided his fingers from his mouth, Sekh grabbed him, pulled him down and rolled them over, so he was sprawled on top of the man. Astarion let him, seemed relaxed as Sekh kissed him eagerly, rocking against his body. He wasn’t fully hard again yet- but his cock was still pressing tight to Sekh, weeping precum already.

Sekh broke the kiss, had Astarion chasing his mouth, wanting more. Instead he kissed the hollow of his throat, then the dip of his clavicle. Slowly, Sekh eased down his chest in a line, only glancing up when he reached Astarion’s navel.

The vampire was watching him with rapt attention.

Sekh smiled softly to himself, continued his way down, until he could press a kiss just under Astarion’s cockhead. The vampire groaned, as Sekh took him in hand, easing his mouth down along him, able to take him until his lips pressed to Astarion’s pelvis-

For now.

“Gods,” Astarion breathed, as Sekh suckled gently, his tongue rolling along Astarion’s cock. He could feel each throb of desire, as the vampire hardened slowly, against his tongue. Carefully, Sekh eased back, pulled off and stared up at Astarion as he stroked up along his length.

“There are no gods here.” Sekh’s voice was a rumble from his chest. “Only me.” Astarion whined, and Sekh took him back in his mouth, easing down along his length as far as he could- which was quickly becoming less and less.

Astarion tangled a hand in his free hair, rubbed it between his fingers as Sekh reveled in the salty taste of his skin. He pressed his thighs together, his cunt aching again, body insatiable.

He was still squirming, when Astarion tugged at his hair, guided him off his cock. It left Sekh’s mouth with a wet pop, bobbed against his lips. He stuck his tongue out, unable to keep himself from teasing, as Astarion still watched.

But the vampire’s eyes told him everything- this wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t what he’d ached for, all day.

Sekh pushed himself up onto his hands, let Astarion pull him up the bed, stretch out on his side. The vampire kissed him, drank down the saltiness on his tongue, as he carefully rolled him onto his back. Sekh moved like liquid, thighs spreading without Astarion’s guidance, as his lover slipped between them, still kissing him hungrily.

Sekh hooked a leg up on Astarion’s hip, bared himself, as the vampire took himself in hand, rubbing his cock along his cunt. Sekh trembled, as Astarion breathed against his lips, before the vampire’s tongue was pushing back into his mouth, at the same time as he eased into his body.

Sekh groaned, his hands reaching up, grasping at Astarion’s back, as the vampire’s hand planted on the bed, supported himself as he rocked into his body. Sekh broke the kiss to gasp a breath, and Astarion dropped his head, panted against Sekh’s hair. The drow could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders- tense- as Astarion tried to contain his thrusts.

“Don’t,” Sekh whispered, as Astarion lifted his head. “Don’t hold back.” Astarion made a small, needy noise, and Sekh smiled, curled his leg tighter around Astarion’s hips and ass, pulling him in quickly, so deep that Sekh nearly forgot his own thoughts.

Astarion groaned, before he went back for the drow’s mouth, kissing him rhythmlessly, hungry. His hips moved faster, fucked into Sekh so hard that the drow didn’t think he could breathe. He clung to Astarion desperately, body coiling tight, screaming because this is what he had wanted, for so long.

Astarion nipped at his lip, pressed the tip of a single fang just hard enough to break skin. He gathered the drop of blood on his tongue, and the following thrust had Sekh breaking the kiss, screaming. Gods, he was going to bruise inside- and he wanted nothing more.

“They’re going-to-hear us,” Sekh panted, words broken by thrusts. Astarion bared his fangs, looked feral, ethereal, divine and hellish.

“Let them.” He pushed up, grasped a hand at Sekh’s hip, the other at the thigh not clutching tightly to his body. He pushed Sekh’s leg until his hip ached, yet the drow didn’t stop him, eyes rolling at the way it let Astarion get even deeper inside him. “Let them hear you break, darling.”

Sekh arched, a hand scrambling down his belly, between his folds. He rubbed at his clit, the bud hard and aching. His cunt was screaming, nerves alight and burning so hot he swore he would combust. Astarion didn’t seem to be in a better state- his breaths rushed, sweat along his hairline, a bead running down his throat.

Gods Sekh wanted to lick it away.

“Only,” Sekh managed, felt his cunt clenching around Astarion. “Oh fuck.” He rolled his hips, for a moment forgetting what he had even been trying to say. Astarion didn’t seem to mind, nails digging little crescent moons into his thigh.

Sekh swore his nails were sharper, lately. Talon like. And yet somehow, he didn’t think they even could hurt him, were they inside him. As if Astarion didn’t possess the power to make his body cause Sekh harm.

“Only if you break with me,” he finally managed, watched Astarion baring his throat. Sekh still wanted to dig his teeth into that pale skin, feel it break, get a taste of the vampire for a change.

Astarion’s mouth fell open, an attempt at Sekh’s name. Sekh felt his muscles coiling, along his back, his belly, his very core. His fingers moved desperately, and he knew Astarion could feel how close he was, how desperately his body wanted to break.

He pushed harder, so deep into Sekh it should have hurt- but everything felt good, in that moment. Sekh cried out his name, a panted mantra of Astarion, Astarion, Astarion, as his orgasm took hold and quaked through him. The world faded to black, the only light the white hot starbursts, behind his eyelids. Sekh was smiling, head tipped back, still coming when Astarion followed, his own shout of Sekh’s name.

Sekh felt each wave of Astarion’s orgasm, inside him. Behind his eyelids, his eyes rolled, realizing he was so full, and gods, wanting still more. He wanted Astarion to fill him to the point that he couldn’t contain all of his seed, that it was spilling down his thighs.

Astarion’s hips finally stilled, as he leaned over Sekh, sought out his kiss swollen lips. Sekh sighed into it, pulled Astarion until the vampire was lying along him, a pleasant weight as they both slowly came down from their high. The drow’s hands roamed along his back, fingers idly tracing his scars without even meaning to.

Astarion sighed into the kiss, broke away just to press his forehead against Sekh’s. And, in a voice that was hoarse yet soft, whispered, “I missed this.”

Sekh smiled. “The bed or the sex?” he teased, and Astarion huffed, finally rolling off of him. He stretched out next to him, staring up at the dark ceiling.

His only answer was, “You.”

Sekh felt his heart flutter, the wicked thing taking flight in his chest. He rolled onto his side, slotted in against Astarion’s, tracing a hand down his chest as he propped his cheek against his other hand. “Astarion,” he started, “what are we?”

The vampire glanced at him, before turning his eyes back to the dark above. He was quiet, for a moment, before admitting, “I don’t know.” He licked his lips, rolled the next words over before continuing. “You’re not a target. You’re not a night it’s best to forget. But then, what are you? What does that leave?” Astarion reached for the hand that was stroking slowly along his chest, grasped it, tangling his fingers with Sekh’s. “I don’t know how to be a part of anything else.” He turned his head to face Sekh, his eyes open, vulnerable. “But you said you care… and I trust you. I feel safe with you.”

Sekh leaned down, pecked Astarion’s lips very softly. “I do care,” he whispered, “more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I’ll always keep you safe, Starshine.” Another soft kiss, but when Sekh tried to pull away, Astarion chased him, dragged the kiss out until he was pulling Sekh back down properly to the bed, so he could sprawl against the drow’s side, rest his head on his chest.

Sekh wrapped his arm around him, rubbing along his spine. Astarion’s cheek was cool against his warm skin, a comfort. For a long moment, they lapsed into silence, and Sekh was content with it, happy to hold the man against him. He could have laid in silence forever.

But Astarion broke it. “I’m terrified,” he admitted, not lifting his head. Sekh’s hand stilled. “Terrified because you should be taken from me. What you do to me…” He took a slow breath. “Anyone else who made my dead heart sing died for it.”

Sekh resumed his slow strokes of Astarion’s spine. He didn’t need to ask who would never let Astarion have anything. It was all too obvious.

“Once,” Astarion said, his voice trembling, “in the early years of my… slavery. I met a boy. A darling boy.” His voice caught, and he had to pause, take a slow breath. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing him back to Cazador- couldn’t live with myself knowing I was going to bring him to his death. So I… I ran.”

His arm slid over Sekh’s waist, held onto him. Whether for comfort or as if to protect Sekh from the phantom of his master, the drow wasn’t sure.

“Cazador found me. Of course he did. And he locked me in a tomb for an entire year, starving.” A tremble wracked Astarion’s body, as he tried to grip Sekh even tighter. “There were months of trying to claw my way out, feeling my nails break off my fingers just to sprout back. Months of screaming my throat raw- months of nothing at all. Of silence and blackness. And months of just wishing for death. And then…” Astarion squeezed his eyes shut. “Even moments of begging for forgiveness. Thinking that if Cazador would just let me out, I’d make things right.”

Astarion pushed himself up then, looked down at Sekh. The drow could see a shimmer to his eyes, tears unshed, begging for freedom but never having it granted.

“I was weak. I never knew what happened to that man. Perhaps my suffering was for nothing and Cazador still drained him dry, took his life while I screamed in my tomb. But I learned that I… I can’t have anyone. They will always belong to him.” Astarion closed his eyes, and added in a broken voice, “I’m terrified that I’m bringing you death.”

Sekh sat up then, pulled Astarion into his arms. He cradled the man, held his head to his chest, stroked his hair as he felt a silent sob wrack the vampire’s body. “I told you he’d never have me,” Sekh whispered, “and I meant it. You don’t belong to him. And nor do I. I won’t ever let that happen to you again.” He held him tighter, and in a voice that felt like fire and steel, added, “I will never let him hurt you again.”

Slowly, Astarion calmed. His trembling subsided, and he sat up himself, pulling from Sekh’s chest. There were no tear stains on his cheeks- but Sekh almost wished there were. It would do the man good, to cry for himself.

“You can’t promise that,” Astarion pointed out.

“Oh, but I can.” Sekh reached for Astarion, caressed his cheek, cradled it softly. “I swear on my life, on my pact with Syl, on everything that I am and ever will be. He will never hurt you. Again.” Astarion nuzzled against his palm, eyelids fluttering shut, as the vampire simply breathed him in, mulled the words over.

If he had an answer, a rebuttal, he kept it to himself. Instead, when he spoke, he only added, “Stubborn fool.” Those eyes fluttered back open. “I shouldn’t expect anything less from a drow.”

Sekh cracked a smile then. “No, you absolutely shouldn’t. We are rather amazing.”

Astarion huffed, turned to kiss Sekh’s palm. “You’re rather ridiculous,” he corrected, but- oh- he was smiling. And Sekh would do anything for one of those smiles. He must have stared, with the same lovesick, dumb look on his face, because Astarion’s cheeks flushed lightly, and he added in a mumble, “and staring.”

“Sorry,” Sekh said, “it’s hard not to.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, before he reached out, shoved Sekh. The drow sprawled on his back, and Astarion crawled over him. “That’s enough talk,” he said, bowing his head and pressing a kiss to Sekh’s throat. “We’re only going to get so much privacy before the rest of our merry band get bored.”

Sekh tipped his head back, exposed his throat, and Astarion dragged his tongue over it, the drow so sure he could feel his pulse. “Is this what you want?” Sekh asked- just wanting to be sure.

Astarion paused, mouth poised over Sekh’s warm skin. For a moment, Sekh could feel just his breath, before the vampire said, in a voice that sounded sure, “Yes.”

The one word affirmation was all Sekh needed. Before Astarion could do more than plant a single kiss against his throat, he was rolling them over, pinning Astarion back to the bed. The vampire arched, as Sekh grasped his wrists, pinned them up towards his head. Astarion’s eyes danced like evening lights.

“Darling,” he purred, “what are you doing?”

His voice was intrigued, dripped with anticipation. Sekh gave him a cocky, sly smile, and pecked his lips quickly. “Taking care of you,” he whispered, before he let go of Astarion’s wrists and slid down his body. He didn’t give the vampire a moment for even a thought, before he was dragging his tongue along his soft cock, making Astarion arch.

He smiled to himself, teased him with his tongue, his hands rubbing Astarion’s thighs, urging them open. The vampire obeyed, as Sekh turned, kissed his pelvis, then the soft skin of one pale, inner thigh. Astarion sighed, and Sekh nipped at the skin, felt Astarion shake, just once.

He grasped the flesh between his teeth harder, enough pressure to ache, and Astarion’s breath caught. Oh. “I want to tear into you,” Sekh admitted, the hand that was on Astarion’s neglected thigh moving to his cock, teasing it. He was half hard already, from just that one bite.

Astarion tossed his head, little noises leaving his pretty lips as Sekh stroked him, teasing his cockhead with his thumb. He kissed the spot he’d bitten, and Astarion pushed his thigh closer to Sekh’s mouth. Taking the invitation, Sekh grasped the flesh in his teeth again, digging in until it had to burn, his teeth indenting into Astarion’s soft skin.

Astarion gasped, arched- and Sekh felt his cock throb, leak precum down over his knuckles. He laved his tongue over his teeth marks, before he sucked at the skin, knowing it had to sting. Astarion squirmed, but not away from him- and when Sekh lifted his head, he knew the flushed skin he’s bathed in his attention would bruise, soon.

The thought made his cunt ache.

He turned his attention back to Astarion’s cock, taking him over his eager tongue, swallowing until he couldn’t fit anymore. The vampire reached for his hair, tangled it around the fingers of both hands, pushing Sekh down further still, until tears beaded in the corners of the drow’s eyes.

Astarion was panting, as Sekh grasped at the thigh he’d bruised, digging his thumb into the sensitive skin. Astarion whined, this sweet, nearly broken sound, and Sekh ground down into the bed- wanting friction, wanting Astarion inside him again. Wanting everything.

The moment Astarion let up even the slightest on pulling at his hair, Sekh was pushing himself up, forcing the vampire to lose his hold. Sekh climbed over him, straddled his hips, and with an ease that was obscene, lowered himself onto Astarion’s cock.

The vampire groaned, eyelids fluttering, eyes nearly rolling. Sekh leaned over him, grasped his wrists, pushing them back to the bed, pinning him down as he rode him. His movements were quick, his hair falling over his shoulders, into his face as he panted.

“Fuck,” Astarion growled, hips rocking up to meet each of Sekh’s movements. “Darling, slow down.”

Sekh bared his teeth, squeezed Astarion’s wrists. “No.” He pressed himself tight to Astarion, had his cock nestled so deep inside him he could nearly choke. Astarion shuddered, mouth falling open- and Sekh knew what the man wanted to say, if he could form words-

He wouldn’t last. He needed Sekh to come first. He needed, he wanted-

“This is about you,” Sekh said, lifting his hips, before slamming them back down again. “Let me just focus on you.”

Astarion tipped his head back, whatever words he had dying on his tongue. Sekh smiled to himself, his thighs beginning to burn as he rode Astarion. He didn’t care. He wanted his lover to find a soul shattering release while simply lying back.

Sekh squeezed his wrists, his cunt clenching around Astarion. His own body yearned for more stimulation, for another release. He ignored it completely, simply enjoying being aroused, as Astarion melted beneath him. The man’s breaths were ragged, his hips losing any rhythm they’d had.

The drow grinned to himself, wicked and divine, watching Astarion’s face contort in sheer ecstasy. His cheeks were flushed, kiss swollen lips open in desperate pants, whining keens of need. And gods those eyes.

“Can you come for me?” Sekh asked, and Astarion managed a nod. Sekh clenched around him, purposefully, and Astarion choked, eyes fluttering open. “Good. Come on Starshine-” he bowed his head down, found Astarion’s ear and breathed into it, “fill me until I’m nothing but you.”

Astarion cried out, wordless, trembling as he obeyed. His orgasm had him nearly thrashing, arching as he pushed against Sekh’s hold on his wrists. The drow pushed him down harder to the bed, continuing to slide along his cock, milking Astarion’s orgasm until the vampire had nothing left for him.

When Astarion began to melt into the bed, Sekh slowed, began to grind against him instead of riding him, getting a bit of friction that sent sparks down his spine. Eyes still closed, Astarion licked his lips, trying to catch his unneeded breath.

“Wicked,” he managed, his eyes slitting open, “wicked, darling boy.” Sekh grinned, finally lifting himself off Astarion, rolling onto his side. The moment he did, Astarion was turning to face him, one hand sliding between his legs, two fingers pushing into him with such ease it had Astarion growling.

Sekh gasped, thighs trembling, as Astarion buried his fingers as deep as he could, nosing at his throat, his jaw. “Don’t you dare waste a drop,” he whispered, fingers thrusting slightly, mostly just curling to push at all of Sekh’s sweet, aching nerves. Sekh bit his lip, and Astarion clicked his tongue, and the moment Sekh released his lip Astarion was there, pinning it between his teeth.

Desperate now, body craving another release to the point that Sekh was dizzy, the drow slid a hand between them, pressed his fingers along his aching clit, rubbing quickly. Astarion released his lip, smiled. “Good,” he said, words breathed against Sekh’s mouth. “Fall apart for me. Let me feel it.” His fingers thrust quicker, and if Sekh’s mind was clear, he’d wonder how it didn’t hurt, how Astarion managed to not catch those sharpened nails on his soft insides even once.

Again- it was as if the vampire couldn’t hurt him.

Sekh tipped his head back, body so close that all his muscles felt knotted. Astarion mouthed at his exposed throat, dragged his fangs along Sekh’s pulse. Sekh saw stars, before everything burst in another crest of pleasure. His cunt tried to milk Astarion’s fingers, and the vampire gave a warm chuckle, bemused by the fact that Sekh’s body was so starving for him.

Sekh touched himself through it, lost in his own body, in each pulsing wave of pleasure. Even as they began to ease he touched, Astarion’s fingers never once letting up.

When Sekh’s hand finally fell away, the vampire slowed his ministrations, but didn’t cease. “Aw, pet,” he cooed, “is that all you have for me?”

Sekh’s eyes fluttered open, and he reached for Astarion’s chin, grasped it and pulled him in for a kiss. He pushed his tongue into the vampire’s mouth, teased those glorious fangs, felt Astarion trying to tame him. He clenched himself around his fingers purposefully, and Astarion gasped, suddenly giving to Sekh’s clawing at dominance.

“No,” Sekh finally said, against Astarion’s lips. “I have so much more for you.” Astarion growled, pulled his fingers from Sekh then, sliding them up between their mouths. Astarion dragged his tongue along them, and Sekh mimicked him, tasted himself mingled with Astarion’s cum.

Astarion parted his fingers, and Sekh’s tongue flicked at the vampire’s. Gods he wanted to go again already, wanted to ride Astarion again until the vampire was screaming for him.

But before he could roll the man over, climb back onto him, he could hear loud footsteps, outside their rooms. Laughter.

It seemed their time was up.

Sekh frowned, and Astarion sighed. The vampire pulled from Sekh, stood up and stretched. “I believe that’s the after party,” he said, nodding towards the door.

Sekh flopped over onto his belly, still frowning. “Dammit,” he mumbled, as Astarion found his own discarded underwear, stepping into them. “I wasn’t done.”

Astairon glanced over his shoulder, now holding his pants. “You are insatiable.”

“You weren’t done either,” Sekh pointed out, and the vampire simply flashed him a toothy smile, before getting into his pants. He gathered up Sekh’s own pants and underwear- which had somehow managed to be flung with enough force to land on Gale’s bed- and handed both to the drow.

“Maybe if you can be quiet,” Astarion teased, bending over and pecking his lips quickly, “We can have a little more fun once they’re all asleep.” Sekh choked, as Astarion straightened up, adding, “of course, we both know you can’t.”

He grabbed his shirt, carrying it with him as he crossed the room. Sekh grinned, called out after him, “You can’t either!”

Astarion didn’t once pause to challenge him.

Sekh hurriedly squirmed into his underwear and pants- was sitting on the bed when Astarion opened the door, leaned against it and greeted a rather tipsy Gale and Shadowheart. Sekh didn’t bother to listen to what they said, as the two entered.

“Were you two not done?” Shadowheart asked, folding her arms as she reached Sekh. Gale sat down on his own bed, sighing because it had to be nice not to have his aching joints cushioned by just a bedroll.

“Maybe not,” Sekh teased, and Gale groaned.

“I regret choosing this bed,” the wizard said. “Shadowheart, want to switch?”

“Absolutely not.” she sat down on the edge of Gale’s bed, seeming to think for a moment. “Wait… who is on your other side?”

“Karlach.” Gale looked a bit confused, and Shadowheart grinned.

“I might change my mind, then.”

Sekh bit back a laugh. He had to wonder if Shadowheart was ever going to follow through with a single of her flirtatious remarks regarding the tiefling. He doubted Karlach would have a single complaint.

Speaking of- “Where is Karlach?”

“She and Wyll just came back- and yes, they have our resident child in tow.” Shadowheart said it fondly. “Hence why we’re here. If it wasn’t Gale and I- Lae’zel was going to burst through those doors and demand you two stop mid act if needed so she could sleep.”

Sekh smiled, just as he heard the door opening again, the room flooding with the rest of their companions. Astarion was with them, shirt now on, walking next to Karlach, who had Yenna in one arm, the child draped across her shoulder, dead asleep.

“That one,” Astarion said, pointing to a bed around the corner of the room, from the one Sekh sat on. “She’ll want to be close to Sekh, I’m sure.”

Karlach nodded, heading up the single stair to the enclave, Yenna’s cat following behind in perfect step. Sekh watched the cat, felt a strange tingle in his mind, almost a recognition.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Astarion returned to him, passed a cup he was holding to Sekh. For a moment Sekh thought it was wine, which really wasn’t what he needed- but the cup was quite cold.

He took a sip as Astarion sat down next to him, the man saying something to Gale that had the wizard groaning, exclaiming he hadn’t had enough wine to deal with him.

It was just water.

Sekh glanced at Astarion, must have stared, because the vampire looked at him, quirked a brow. “What?”

“Uh. Nothing.” Sekh glanced down at the glass, and Astarion cleared his throat, made a point to look away.

“I just assumed you’d need it.” He turned his attention back to Gale and Shadowheart- but there was the faintest color to his cheeks, the tips of his ears.

Sekh smiled, taking another sip, the cool water soothing on his throat. Astarion had said he didn’t know what they were, didn’t know how to be anything-

But Sekh would argue he did. He would argue that Astarion even thinking about his needs was the vampire already doing more than he thought himself capable of.

Sekh leaned over, pressed a kiss to Astarion’s temple- and without looking, the vampire slid an arm around his waist, pulled him closer.

This would be alright, Sekh told himself. In the end, no matter what- this would be alright.

It had to be.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #sekh'met #sekstarion #eternally yours #astarion/tav #astarion x tav

16 notes · View notes

multi-lefaiye · 9 months

Text

tick, tock.

[ #FFF234: HOW IT ENDS ]

HIIIII hi <3 i have some writing to share, after about 500 years.

this was originally written for today's @/flashfictionfridayofficial prompt, HOW IT ENDS, but i ended up going way over the limit and didn't wanna edit it down. so. it's not part of that anymore. but i'm including the banner anyway bc i like it <3

so, for context, this is based on a specific scene in act two of baldur's gate 3, a specific interaction with wyll that i love so so much, featuring my tav, the tiefling eden linnaeus <3

content warnings: semi-graphic threats of violence, but honestly mainly just spoilers for bg3, if that's something you're worried about.

words: 1692

tagging the art taglist, bc no gods no masters (no pressure to any of y'all to read! <3 and if you want to be added or removed, please let me know): @skitzo-kero @anexor @presidentquinn @albatris @chaieyestea @astral-runic @kk7-rbs @jezwrites @whonsper @moonflowerrss @approximately20eggs @rosesandartss @lychniscitrus @invaderskoodge @transmasc-wizard @midnight-and-his-melodiverse

----

The projection of Mizora is every bit as imposing as the first time Eden saw her. She stands tall in the heart of his camp, his safe haven, her clawed hands on her hips and jagged teeth barely hidden by her rose-painted grin. As always, she stares down at him with clear disdain, crown of horns perched high on her brow. She has a smug air about her that says, You are beneath me, nothing more than a pathetic ant beneath my boot.

At this moment, all Eden wants is to rip that pretty face apart. If she ever gets the guts to actually stand before him, he might do just that.

Tonight isn’t about that, however. Tonight is about Wyll, who stands next to Eden with a resigned sort of grief on his handsome face. He bows beneath the weight of Mizora’s expectations, as always, and the ridiculous suicide missions she sends him on. Wyll is dutiful, kind, and deeply honorable, and she seems to delight in every torturous humiliation she lavishes upon him. Kill this devil for me (yes, Mizora), move this mountain for me (yes, Mizora), tear yourself to ragged pieces for me (yes, Mizora). It never ends.

Even now, she appears just to torment him, holding promises of freedom over his head that she has no intentions of fulfilling. His suffering is a game to her, one that he has no hope of winning.

One thing is abundantly clear: to Mizora, Wyll is little more than a dog, her loyal pet for her to keep on a tight leash and kick as she pleases. And he’ll always come crawling back to her, because he has no choice in the matter.

And that, Eden decides, is unacceptable.

“Ta ta, pet,” Mizora coos, winking playfully at Wyll’s clenched jaw, the way he casts his eyes down at the ground. Submissive. Cowed. It doesn’t suit him. She waggles her dainty fingers at him in a wave. “And do make haste. I’d hate to have to ruin that pretty face of yours if you fail.”

Something inside Eden snaps.

“Wait,” he says, taking a step towards the devil. She blinks at him, clearly surprised that he spoke up. “What’s in it for him?” Mizora snorts.

“I thought I was quite clear,” she purrs. She holds up a finger for emphasis. “As per our contract, Wyll must do whatever I ask of him. And, now, he must rescue my stolen asset from Moonrise, or else I will rend his flesh from his bones and-”

“Yes, yes, we heard you the first time,” Eden cuts her off. “Save us the fucking theatrics, you winged sack of shit.” He waves a hand dismissively and rolls his eyes. “My point, however, is that I don’t see why he should do anything for you. You haven’t given him anything--isn’t that the point of a fair deal?” He’s treading dangerous waters, he knows, but he’s not backing down now.

The devil ponders his words, her expression twisted in fury at his insolence. Clearly, the bitch isn’t used to mortals who talk back. Finally, she asks cautiously, “What are you proposing?”

Mizora glares at him, and for perhaps the first time, Eden understands what it means to face down eternal damnation. Her burning eyes promise hellfire, but Eden meets her gaze unflinchingly. And as he does, he sees something he didn’t before: a spark of fear, of desperation, in her face. Mizora is scared. Whatever asset she needs Wyll to fetch, she’s fucked if he doesn’t get it for her.

There’s blood in the water. And, like a shark, Eden strikes.

“End your pact with Wyll.” The words seem to echo like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet camp. “He’s done everything you’ve asked as your errand boy, and you’ve done almost nothing in return. The contract has served its purpose, so if you want anything else from him, end it.” Distantly, Eden is aware of the others in the background, talking among themselves as they wonder if they should intervene. But Eden doesn’t care about that now. His focus is on the evil bitch in front of him, and the noble man behind him.

Then, Wyll’s voice sounds in the back of Eden’s mind, clearly terrified of where he’s going with this.

What are you doing? he asks. Eden glances at Wyll out of the corner of his eye and sees the man watching him with wide eyes. Wyll is terrified, that much is clear.

Trust me. Eden meets Wyll’s gaze, his face carefully neutral despite the pleading words. Please. Wyll hesitates for a moment, trepidation shining in his face. A heartbeat passes, and he nods, steeling his gaze.

I trust you.

Something in Eden’s chest warms at the words, at Wyll’s unwavering faith in him, and he turns his attention back to Mizora. She’s still glaring at him, but she looks unsteady. He’s clearly on the right track. He just has to keep digging.

“Why should I?” she sneers, and now Eden sees how defensive the gesture is as she crosses her arms. “You have no bargaining power, boy. Wyll made an agreement with me, and he’s obligated to-”

“Tick,” Eden says casually. “Tock.”

“What?” Mizora barks, furrowing her brow.

“Tick, tock, Mizora,” Eden says. He smiles at her, the expression baring his fangs. “Every second you spend bitching about what Wyll should do is another second you waste that we could be helping you.” His smile grows as he imagines sinking his teeth into Mizora’s flesh. “How long until the Absolutists destroy your precious asset, removing her brain and replacing it with worms? We’ll have to act fast if we’re to get there in time. By then, it may be too late.”

“You don’t-” Mizora starts in a snarl, her fingers curling into claws, but Eden doesn’t let her finish.

“Tick, tock.” He snarls back in a feral grin. “What do you choose? Tick, tock, tick, tock-”

“Stop,” Mizora growls.”

“Tick, tock, tick, tock-”

“ENOUGH!” Mizora cries, her voice a booming thunderclap that almost shakes Eden to his core. Almost. She staggers away from him as though burned by his words alone, raising her hands to hide her face. For a long moment, she stands there, shoulders shaking ever so slightly.

Whoever Mizora needs saved from Moonrise, she’s clearly as important as Eden assumes if the idea of losing her is enough to unsettle the devil this deeply.

The devil takes a breath, shuddering as she collects herself. Finally, she lowers her hands, crossing her arms again. She glares at Eden, but there’s no heat in the expression now, not after Eden laid bare how desperate she really is. He glares back at her freely, his expression triumphant. He’s won, and they both know it.

“Fine,” Mizora says through gritted teeth. She takes a breath again, schooling her expression into a calm smile. “Fine. I will release Wyll from his contract.” It sounds like she’s forcing herself to say each word. Eden hopes it hurts her to say them. “After he rescues the asset.” She throws the last part out like a challenge, grinning viciously at Eden, and he only shrugs in response.

“Naturally,” Eden agrees easily enough. “That’s only fair, after all.” Something glints in his eyes. “When he rescues the asset, you will release him from his pact.” It’s not a request, and Mizora clearly knows it, based on the way her lip peels back in another snarl. “And if you even try to weasel out of this, I’ll personally ensure the Absolute devours you and your precious asset whole.”

It’s an empty threat and he knows it, but the flash of terror in Mizora’s eyes at Eden’s words tells him she believes him wholeheartedly. Good.

Mizora averts her gaze, clearly unsettled, and turns away from Eden to look at Wyll. “You’d better move quickly, pup,” she barks, desperate to cling to whatever power she has left in this situation. Eden decides to allow it, for now. “Looks as though we’re both on a time limit.”

Before Eden can examine her parting words, she disappears as swiftly as she arrived, the illusion melting into a puddle of black ichor on the stone floor. In seconds, the muck evaporates, leaving behind nothing more than a dark stain, a smudge of shadow in the flickering firelight.

The moment she’s gone, Eden lets out a breath of his own, his shoulders drooping ever so slightly. His heart pounds something fierce in his chest, his victory over Mizora lighting a fire in his veins just as much as it fills him with pure, exhaustive relief.

“I…” Wyll begins behind him, swallowing audibly. “Eden, I… Not that I’m not grateful, but why-”

“If you want to beat a devil, you have to beat them at their own game,” Eden says simply. He suddenly feels deeply uncertain, and he shifts as he crosses his arms. “And, well… you’re my friend. I’m tired of her making you play alone, so I’m gonna help you beat her.” That’s half the truth, anyway.

Eden turns his head to look at Wyll, and he’s nearly taken aback by the man’s expression of pure, unabashed awe. Wyll is looking at him like he’s the most remarkable creature in the world. There’s something else in his eyes, something else that Eden can’t quite identify, but the expression makes something stir deep inside Eden’s chest.

“We’re not out of the weeds yet,” he continues, smiling bashfully, “but this is a start. We’ll just have to make sure Mizora upholds her en-”

Before Eden can finish his sentence, Wyll surges forward and wraps his arms around the smaller man, pulling him into a tight embrace. Eden freezes in surprise, his words dying in his throat as Wyll buries his face in the tiefling’s neck. It takes a moment for him to realize that Wyll’s shoulders are shuddering, ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” Wyll says, his voice watery with unshed tears. “Thank you.”

There’s a million things Eden could say in response. But instead, after the briefest moment of hesitation, he just hugs Wyll back, holding his friend gently.

#multi makes text posts #multi's writing #bg3 #eden linnaeus #handsome devils #<- wyll and eden tag #I FEEL LIKE THE ENDING OF THIS IS KINDA RUSHED BUT I LIKE IT SO I'M POSTING IT

9 notes · View notes

alongtidesoflight · 1 year

Text

in my dark urge save my guardian's voice was bugged, transmasc guardian, voices got switched around

BUT i just encountered the absolute in the moonrise towers and that fixed the bug

#he actually sounds like himself now and all it took was the absolute nearly tearing raz's arm off

5 notes · View notes

nephilimlm · 2 years

Text

sam and suzy from moonrise kingdom are t4t and transhet

#trans #t4t #moonrise kingdom #wes anderson #fantastic mr fox #the grand budapest hotel #film #lgbtq #headcanon #trans headcanon #ftm #mtf #transmasc #transfem

14 notes · View notes

sunderedazem · 2 years

Text

Corrain - SWTOR OC art

I was trying for a more realistic style than usual? I think I did ok! (I'll have to practice painting scars, though)

12 notes · View notes

mourningmogaicrew · 3 years

Text

New queer inclusion groups

These are all groups of people with certain queer identities who fight for inclusion, acceptance, and education on their identities and the identities of all other queer people.

And because I don’t like the weapons theme (switchblade sapphics, army tank aces, longbow lesbians, blade bisexuals, etc) the names are based off of other things.

I will hopefully manage to make versions of these flags with symbols someday. Also no flag IDs because I’m exhausted sorry.

Peach Plurarians- Because peaches are epic and so are plurarians. Flag is based on the plurarian flag and peaches.

Ocean Queerplatonics- Because the ocean is important but most people kind of ignore it, just like how most people ignore queerplatonic attraction/relationships. Flag is based on the queerplatonic flag, sand, and the ocean.

Marmalade Multigenders- Because each marmalade recipe looks different, and is made of different ingredients, similar to how multigender people are different and experience gender in different ways. Flag is based on the (blue and orange) multigender flag and marmalade.

Nature Agenders- Because it’s only natural for agender people to be inclusive of other queer people. Flag is based on the agender flag and the color green for nature.

Apple Pie Aromantics- Because aromantics can be very sweet just like an apple pie. And by sweet, I mean inclusive. Flag is based on the aromantic flag, apples, and apple pie.

Sunshine Anattractionals- Because not experiencing attraction doesn’t make you grumpy or rude, and anattractionals can still be “sunny” (happy) without attraction. Flag is based on the (blue and purple) anattractional flag and the sun.

Chemical Demis- Because demisexuals and demiromantics are very cool and should form chemical-strong bonds with other queer people. Flag is based on the demisexual/demiromantic flags and radiation-associated colors.

Colorful Greys- Because some greysexuals and greyromantics like colorful pride flags and are inclusive. Flag is based on the greysexual/greyromantic flags with an emphasis on adding color.

Piercing Queers/Queer Guards- (piercing as in the adjective, not the noun.) Because us queer people should guard the vulnerable members of our community and intimidate exclusionists.

Kiwi Andros- Because androgynes and androgynous people are usually overlooked like the kiwis at the back of the supermarket unless someone specifically asks about them, but are actually very epic. Flag is based on the androgyne flag and kiwis.

Moonrise Transmascs- Because moonrise is blue like the transmasc flag. Rising also symbolizes transitioning, and new inclusive beginnings for the transmasc community. Flag is based on the transmasc flag, the moon, and the sky while the moon is rising.

Sunrise Transfems- Because sunrise is pink like the transmasc flag. Rising also symbolizes transitioning, and new inclusive beginnings for the transfem community. Flag is based on the transfem flag, the sun, and the sky while the sun is rising.

Enbians of the Serpent/Snake Enbians- Because the vincians and lesbians have inclusionist groups and the enbians shouldn’t be left out. Also because I think snakes/serpents and enbians are both cool. Flag is based on the enbian flag and snake/serpent iridescence.

Neon Polys- Because all the polysexual and polyromantic people I’ve ever met have been very inclusive and I think that’s a very good goal for all the other poly people too. Also because my one poly friend really likes bright colors. Flag is based on the polysexual/polyromantic flags and neon colors.

Gemstone Butches- Because butches don’t have to be rude just because they’re more masculine. (Toxic masculinity is bad y’all.) Gemstones are kind of like butches, because they look rough on the outside but are shiny when polished and very pretty on the inside (in this analogy, pretty inside means a good personality). Gemstones also are generally considered gender neutral because they’re literally stones. Flag is based on the (orange and yellow) butch flag and malachite.

Blush Femmes- (blush as in the makeup product, not the verb.) Because femmes don’t have to be uneducated just because they’re more feminine. (”Feminine things/people are stupid and don’t deserve respect” attitudes are bad y’all.) Wearing blush is sometimes associated with being “unnatural’’ but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, just like there’s nothing wrong with femmes. Blush and other makeup also is generally considered feminine (the british’s and catholics’ idea, even though makeup was originally for men). Flag is based on the (pink) femme flag and a blush set I saw at the store.

146 notes · View notes

fagrackham · 3 years

Text

formative transmasc things i was sam from moonrise kingdom for halloween a few years back

#my post

1 note · View note

littlemourningstarr · 7 months

Text

Where the Delicate Stops

The House of Healing is a horror unlike what Astarion had expected, and he finds it all too easy to let his nightmares surface in a place that is nothing but death and despair.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, horror, gore, hurt/comfort, fluff, blood kink, blood play, unresolved trauma, vomit

Astarion did not enjoy the look of this House of Healing. The building was cloaked in the land’s cursed shadows, but it felt as if it simply radiated something-

Death.

He fought down a shiver, standing a few paces back as the party determined what they were going to go. The initial plan had been to make their way to the Thorm Family Mausoleum- but that plan had been deterred when Halsin heard the Flaming Fist at Last Light muttering some child’s name.

Astarion hadn’t listened that much- honestly they all said so many things, it just wasn’t worth the time. But now it seemed they needed to wake this man, or the druid was most likely going to erupt into-

Well, something scarier than a bear, he presumed.

Granted, the idea of these frigid shadows leaving was appealing, he could admit. They were a bit much, even for him. And he quite disliked not having the ability to just go look for his dinner. Nothing in the shadows was fit for eating- it all stank of decay.

“We’ll circle around the parameter then.” Astarion focused his attention as he heard Gale speaking. “If you’re quite sure you don’t want us all to crash this little party.”

“No, we can’t draw too much attention. Not yet. The last thing we need is anything getting back to Moonrise- and the cultists swarming Last Light.” Sekh had his arms folded, speaking in a firm but not unkind voice to Gale, the party now divided. Astarion noticed Wyll and Shadowheart flanking Sekh, while Karlach and Lae’zel had already turned to begin heading off into the shadows- both looking quite ready to shed some blood.

Astarion took the few steps to his- well, his…

Well?

Whatever was Sekh now? Astarion didn’t know how to label him, didn’t really know how to do this- how to care about someone. But that didn’t seem to stop his dead heart from hammering at just the sight of him.

He settled on simply his.

“Enough standing around,” the vampire complained, leaning his head on Sekh’s shoulder and looking up at him with rather large eyes, “let’s go hurt something.” Sekh glanced at him, and gave a bemused little smile.

Astarion’s stomach was in knots. He couldn’t remember the last time someone’s smile could send him soaring. He had to lift his head so Skeh could turn, signaling for Shadowheart and Wyll to follow along. “You heard him,” he said, grasping at the large door, “and who am I to deny such a precious thing?”

Another glance back at Astarion with an eye like hellfire and one like the abyss, and Sekh was pulling the door open. Gods, the man was a tease.

Astarion couldn’t forget he had asked for that.

They stepped inside the House of Healing, and Astarion instantly reached up, covered his nose with the back of his hand. The place stank of stale, forgotten blood, bile, gravedirt. So many putrid little nuances that it made him dizzy.

What may once have been a nurse was standing by the door, and she reached a hand out, pausing the party. Her clothing was filthy, stained with the gods only knew what, her skin with a blueish pallor that made Astarion seem sunkissed.

“Ah, more in need of healing. Do wait in line- the doctor will see you soon. He will soothe.”

Her voice was haunting, like a lost echo. For a moment they all paused, taken aback by a single, unarmed person telling them to wait-

But something about this wretched place felt as if they needed permission to enter. A feeling Astarion hadn’t felt since waking up, bathed in sunlight after the Nautiloid.

The party simply gawked, before Astarion sighed, slipping up past Shadowheart and Wyll, then Sekh, to stand in front of the nurse. He faked a cough, turning into his arm and forcing his lungs to burn with the force, before he dramatically tipped his head back, let himself fall.

Sekh caught him, hands going under his arms and bracing him back against his chest. Astarion had never doubted the drow would catch him.

“Oh dear, are we poorly? Are we very poorly?” Astarion slit open one eye, noted the nurse was staring at him, and gave a sad little groan.

“Quite poorly,” Sekh said, and Astarion could hear the laugh building in his voice. Gods if the man laughed and ruined his perfectly good show-

“Please, hurry now. The doctor will see, the doctor will soothe.” Astarion gave another fake, sickly groan, and made no move to support his own weight. He felt Sekh attempt to shift him, before the drow was hoisting him up, tossing him awkwardly over his shoulder.

Astarion’s eyes shot open, but thankfully Wyll was already between him and the nurse, offering his gentlemanly thanks, as Sekh carried Astarion away from the strange creature parading as help. The drow made it just to the corner, before he was leaning the shoulder not supporting Astarion against the wall.

“Gods you’re heavy,” he managed, as Astarion still made no attempt to move. He was rather enjoying this, actually.

“I am light as a feather, darling,” he drawled, “perhaps you’re just not quite up to the task of handling me?”

Sekh pushed off the wall, and suddenly Astarion was shoved roughly to his feet, back pressed against the wall. Sekh grasped his wrists, pinned them to the surface, the quick action knocking over one of the abandoned medical carts. The metal clanged loudly on the floor, as Astarion felt his breath catching, his dead pulse hammering.

“Want to try that again?” Sekh asked, his smile wicked. Astarion bit at his tongue, arched slightly, pushed himself flush to Sekh. The hands on his wrists tightened. He felt dizzy, hot suddenly under his skin- which was still such a new feeling-

Before he could do anything else, Sekh released him, stepped back. The wicked smile turned kinder, and yes Astarion had been the one to say he needed a bit of time to come to terms with his own body, his needs, his own boundaries-

But suddenly he was desperately wishing the drow would come back and devour him. But oh, it wasn’t the time or the place. And as much as Astarion could want, a large chunk of his very being was terrified of messing this up, of doing something wrong and losing the drow. Or losing himself.

“I don’t want to know,” Shadowheart said, as she and Wyll caught up, the cleric noting the toppled tray, Astarion pressed to the wall, eyes slightly dilated. “Astarion, your acting is atrocious.” Astarion argued that his acting was wonderful as he pushed off the wall, both Sekh and Wyll leaving the two and sneaking back to examine what might have once been a row of patient beds.

It was nothing but dust, bones, and old cotton now.

Shadowheart only waved Astarion off, and the elf frowned, but shut his mouth. He could argue with her later. Now that he was back in the present, and not lost in a sudden moment of need with his… his drow flush to him, the House of Healing was beginning to weigh down on him again. He brushed some dust off his armor as they poked about, noting rusty, blood-dried tools that looked as if they hadn’t moved in a hundred years.

Astarion toed at an old metal bowl, a blackish liquid dried inside. It smelled so bad his stomach rolled, threatening to give up what little blood he had in his body- which wasn’t much, only the light snack he’d gotten from Rolan, the night before.

He turned away from it, noted that Sekh was down on a knee, examining some withered bones collecting dust on a stained bedroll, scattered on the floor. “I don’t think this place has healed anyone in a long time,” the warlock said, quietly, fingers moving over bones. Astarion fought down a shiver- he had to agree.

This place was wretched beyond words.

He turned away, heard a few of the bones clacking together as Sekh moved them, before the drow was up as well. “Whatever that flaming fist found here, I wouldn’t be shocked if it might have made the Shadowfell pale in comparison.”

“I wouldn’t agree there,” Shadowheart advised, but her heart didn’t sound as if it backed up her argument.

“Let’s just be quick.”

Astarion couldn’t disagree. He was happy to leave the abandoned beds behind, moving into the depths of the building, towards a large set of wooden doors. It didn’t need to be said that the party assumed the doctor would be behind these doors.

Honestly, Astarion didn’t think there was a doctor at all. He assumed the wraith of a woman that had greeted them was simply mad. Perhaps the doctor had died long ago, succumbed to these shadows- hells, his bones could have been the ones Sekh was sifting through.

When the doors to what was a medical auditorium, fit for students, were pushed open, Astarion wished he had been right.

A man- gods, was that thing even a man?- was looming over a naked figure, strapped down to a gurney. His hands were monstrous, nothing but long, lithe scalpels that clacked as he spoke, as he gestured. He was surrounded by boney, ghastly figures that resembled the nurse they’d met upon entry.

“The objective of the scalpel, sisters,” he said, his voice this thin, ghostly rasp- it sounded as if his throat had a layer of dry dust coating it, “ is to soothe, for the scalpel, indeed, is an extension of Shar.” He moved his scalpel fingers in the dim light, and Astarion watched Sekh’s hands twitch, caught a shadow coiling around his fingers. The drow was coiled just as tight as he was, at the sight.

Before them, the man took one scalpel finger and eased it into the restrained figure, cutting just below what once was a man’s ribs. The body gave the barest of thrashes, a weak near death rattle leaving its open, bloody mouth.

Whatever this man once was, he was barely alive now, nothing but a toy for this doctor.

“See how the patient reacts when I but stroke the right nerve? Hear its comfort. Hear the very melody of mercy.” The man- was this a man?- tipped his head back, and Astarion watched as he beckoned one of the nurses forward, her own knife cutting into the subject’s stomach. He watched the blade disappear to her knuckles, before the doctor was exclaiming, “Stop! Stay your hand, for it slaps where it should stroke. We can hardly hear the patient’s sighs of solace.”

“Sekh,” Astarion whispered, and the drow glanced at him. They needed to do something- Astarion didn’t want to watch this pathetic show for a moment longer. Next to him, Wyll had his hand on his rapier.

“We need to do something.” the other warlock said, seeming moments away from charging past the drow and into the fray.

“Perhaps it is our unexpected audience that makes you quiver.” Astarion glanced away from Wyll, saw that the room was staring directly at them- heads turned, all unmoving except the doctor.

They didn’t seem real. They looked like something horrid out of a nightmare- something crawling from the depths of a long lost dungeon, locked away in the dark for centuries.

“Come.” The doctor curled those bladed fingers, inclining his head slightly as he studied the group. “Step forward. You are no sister, but that matters none. Every student is welcome.”

“A…student,” Sekh said, squaring his shoulders, pulling up to his whole height- which wasn’t much, truth be told. Yet even behind him, Astarion knew he had to look imposing. It was just a drow thing, he’d come to realize. “Yes. Do enlighten me.”

“Sekh’met,” Astarion hissed under his breath- gods below, what was he thinking? His muscles were coiled so tight they ached, the vampire ready to burst, to lash forward the moment his companions moved.

The doctor tapped his scalpels on the gurney, the cling of metal making Astarion want to grind his teeth. “Absence,” he finally mused, “No other word captures the heart of Shar so very perfectly.” Oh Astarion was very sick of that goddess already. “It is the scalpel led journey that leads from peace,” the man lifted his hand, plunged one of his knived fingers into the eye socket out the man. The subject thrashed, as the doctor pulled free, an already damaged eyeball now skewered on his finger.

Oh, Astarion was going to be sick.

“-To pain,” he concluded, stabbing into the other eye, removing that as well. He flicked his wrist, and the eyeballs slid off, making a wet little squish as they landed on the old wooden floor and rolled a few paces away. The subject pulled feebly at his bindings, mumbling something incoherent. “If light is the symptom, then darkness is the cure.”

It sounded like some shit Cazador would say, before locking one of the spawn up. Something he would’ve said to Astarion before all those months-

“He’s just like Cazador,” Astarion growled, baring his fangs, anger rising like a tidal wave in his belly. “Utterly insane.” He took a step closer to Sekh, trembling with the fury that was pulled taut in every muscle of his body. He opened his mouth to beg to kill him- gods he was seeing his damned old master now, instead of this wretched doctor- Cazador standing tall, grinning with those overly long fangs, black eyes pulling Astarion apart piece by piece by bloody piece-

The vampire didn’t even realize the doctor had continued speaking. “Let us soothe. Let us cure you.” The nurses all took a unified step, and Astarion forced his breathing to calm, his eyes to focus. Cazador wasn’t here, and if he didn’t keep himself together, he’d end up with one of those ungodly dull, rusted blades in his gut.

Sekh inclined his head, and he still looked too calm. Astarion swore he could hear his pulse tho- it was racing. “No wonder their incisions were so imprecise,” Sekh said, “their blades are dull- they need practice before they can show any of us absence.”

“What are you doing?” Wyll whispered, and one of Sekh’s hands fell to his side, slightly behind his back. He spread his fingers, palm out to Wyll and Astarion, a silent wait.

Astarion noticed Wyll relaxed a tick- trust.

“How to steady their hands, I wonder?” The doctor glanced around, and Sekh turned his head slightly- Astarion caught a smile then, charming and calculated.

“They should practice on themselves,” Sekh offered. The doctor seemed to brighten at this, raising those scalpel hands and telling the sisters to acquaint themselves with absence.

Astarion watched in a mingling of horror and elated awe as the nurses turned on each other. They moved in quick, jerking movements- dull blades slicing open skin, stabbing into stained uniforms. No words were spoken, only grunts and little cries. They stabbed and stabbed and stabbed until they were each crumpling to the ground, bleeding out blood so black and acrid it had to be pure rot.

And the doctor simply seemed pleased at his darling pupils. He held his arms outstretched, offering oblivion, sheer absence now, to the party. At least it’d be an easier fight now-

“My magic has blinded me.” Sekh took a step away from the party, towards the doctor. “These false shadows that envelop me, they pale in comparison to those of Shar’s embrace. I see this now.” He continued on, stepped over the body of one of the nurses without even looking. She was still twitching. “Her path is the only true path. Show me how to greet absence, how the worthy embrace the dark lady.”

Sekh stepped up onto the dias, paused less than an arm's length from the doctor. Astarion dug one of his heels against the wood, ready to launch himself forward if that monster so much as twitched in the direction of his drow-

“I beg of you.” Sekh dropped heavily to his knees, looking up at the doctor. It was the stupidest thing Astarion could have imagined him doing- he was at a disadvantage, wouldn’t have the right angle to grab at his sword, and even with his magic-

“Oh but your diligence is exemplary,” the doctor mused, voice a perverted, proud purr. “Very well, your own scalpel you will be. Observe, dear one, then succeed me, into the succour of Shar.”

Then, in a single, fluid motion, the doctor flicked his wrist, and sent one of his knived fingers directly into his own eye socket, so far back that it must have scraped the back of his skull. He collapsed, limp, among the bodies of his pupils, never once touching Sekh in the fall.

The room fell deathly silent, the three just staring at an unmoving Sekh, before Wyll finally said, “I’m terrified of you right now.”

“I think I’m in love with him right now,” Shadowheart mused, voice teasing- but there was a hint of something there- unease as well. Memories, perhaps, of whoever she knew that was just so good at emotional manipulation.

Astarion swore his throat was closing up. Sekh had never once faltered, in playing directly into what the doctor needed to hear. He was persuasive in the perfect, charming, calculating manner.

It occurred to him that he would have been the ideal spawn, in Cazador’s eyes.

The thought sent him reeling. The sheer notion of Cazador even laying eyes on the one thing Astarion had claimed as his, on the one person that saw Astarion as just that-

He was nauseous, thinking on it. The room felt suffocating then, the stench of thick, blackened bile-blood suddenly too much. Astarion tried to swallow, but his throat was too tight.

He turned away from the group, hurrying back out the theater doors. He stumbled a few steps, before he fell down heavily to his knees, hands bracing on the floor as he coughed and wretched. The blood from the previous night was long gone from his belly, and all that he had was sour, acidic bile that burned his throat. He made a pained noise, squeezed his eyes shut, body trembling as he coughed violently again.

He was so engrossed in the tightness in his stomach, the burn in his throat, that he didn’t hear the footsteps coming up to him. When a hand touched his back his eyes shot open, his entire body tensing-

“Astarion, shh, it’s only me.”

Sekh’s voice floated to him, and the vampire relaxed, coughing again, before spitting thick saliva onto the floor. Sekh got down onto a knee, rubbed his hand soothingly along the vampire’s back. Astarion hung his head, closed his eyes again, tried to breathe through his mouth, afraid if he could so much as smell the corpses from the other room he’d throw up his entire stomach, the whole dead organ.

Taking a very deep breath, Astarion opened his eyes, pushed himself up onto his knees. There was a layer of cold sweat on his spin, sticking to his scalp, that made him feel filthy.

And yet Sekh was there, cradling his face, not seeming to care. “Are you alright?” Astarion managed a nod, as the drow studied his face. “What happened?”

Oh, he’d just imagined possibly one of the worst nightmares of his life, was all. Nothing major.

“It’s nothing,” Astarion managed, his voice weak, raspy. Sekh frowned, and oh he didn’t buy that for a moment, the elf knew. Damn. “Their blood smells so vile that it made me ill. Nothing more.”

Sekh still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead he stood up, offered both hands to Astarion, and pulled him up to stand. Astarion felt unsteady, and was thankful when the drow kept a firm hold on his arms, as he regained his balance. Once he was steady, he expected Sekh to release him-

But instead the drow pulled him closer, wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Astarion went rigid for a moment from shock, before he relaxed, melted into the man, resting his cheek on his shoulder as Sekh rocked a little, from side to side. The embrace was short- but oh, Astarion felt like any embrace that ended with Sekh would be too short- but it still left Astarion feeling calmer, even when the drow released him completely.

And when Sekh gave him a little, reassuring smile, Astarion felt elated and dizzy-

“Astarion, Sekh- come in here!”

And Wyll’s shout forced Astarion back to reality. That smile fell from Sekh’s face, and the drow turned, heading back into the operating theater. Astarion steeled himself before following, refusing to be so precious as to not face the carnage again.

Shouldn’t he be reveling in it? No matter how disgusting the necrotic blood of the cursed was?

Wyll was across the room, having been going through one of the wooden cabinets. He had an old, well loved lute in one of his hands, holding it out as if it was treasure.

Was it supposed to mean something?

Astarion filed behind Sekh as the drow reached out, took the lute in his hands. “Look,” Wyll said, guiding Sekh to turn it over. Along the curved bottom was a single engraved word-

Cullagh.

“The flaming fist,” Sekh said, before he broke into a grin. “Wyll, I could kiss you.” The other warlock chuckled, before he glanced a look at Astarion.

“Best not.” Astarion quirked a brow at Wyll, a silent what? That the man utterly ignored. Did he think he would attempt to rip his throat out with his bare fangs over a single show of affection?

Well… maybe not his whole throat…

“We need to get this back to Last Light. Halsin will want to see it.” Sekh passed the lute back to Wyll. “Where’s Shadowheart?”

Wyll gestured back out of the theater. “She wondered that way.” Astarion caught a shift in Sekh then, the smallest flash to his eyes, frown to his lips.

Shadowheart had been oddly quiet during the whole ordeal- considering that her much beloved goddess Shar was being mentioned- all she’d had to say was after. Thinking on it, Astarion would have expected her to step in- while they didn’t know Shar’s dogma, surely she could have recited half the damn goddess’s teachings to soothe the mad doctor.

“I’m going to go find her,” Sekh said, “if you want to finish up in here. I’m ready to be rid of this place.” Wyll’s pained grin was enough to say he agreed, and Astarion wasn’t going to argue. He’d had quite enough healing, thank you very much.

Astarion left the room with Sekh, a step behind the drow, as they glanced around, looking for Shadowheart. She couldn’t have gone far-

Sekh pushed open an old, wooden door, before he paused, blocking the doorway completely despite his lithe frame. Astarion could see the muscles along his neck and shoulders going tense,heard his pulse pick up.

“Sekh-”

“Don’t look.”

Astarion frowned, before he ignored the man, ducking beneath his outstretched arm. Within the room Shadowheart was standing a few feet from patient beds, looking shell shocked, arms limp at her sides. Astarion followed her gaze, before tensing himself.

There was a sick bastardization of a nurse leaning over a body, hands deep inside his opened chest cavity. She was mumbling to herself as she shifted about- gods, looking for what Astarion didn’t know. Gore was caked on her arms, along the front of her uniform-

The poor man was completely opened, sternum to groin.

Sekh moved past Astarion then, saying a shaky whisper, “That’s Arabella’s father.”

The name sounded familiar-

The little idol thief from the Grove.

Astarion felt his stomach drop. That little hellion had been rather sweet, even if he was loathe to admit it. And if that was her father- where was she?

“Shadowheart,” Sekh said softly, trying to coax her back into herself. Her stare was a thousand paces away. When she didn’t move Sekh moved very carefully towards her, trying to be silent. Still, the old wooden boards creaked, and the nurse paused her rummaging, glancing over at her audience.

“Ah, more patients. Please, do sit. The doctor has found oblivion, but no matter. I will carry on.” She turned back to the body, and Astarion watched as she pulled something large and bulbous from the tiefling’s body- gods was that his liver?

He moved quickly to Sekh and Shadowheart. Sekh had leaned in, was speaking softly to her, and Astarion watched as she blinked away her stupor, looked over at them with eyes that screamed. “Come on,” Sekh said, placing a hand on her lower back. “There’s nothing we can do here…”

No, there was no saving this man, or the woman on the bed next to him, already in a worse state. Astarion glanced away, followed as Sekh guided Shadowheart out of the room, and thankfully out of the damned house of healing.

Wyll was waiting outside, still holding the lute, blissfully unaware. He smiled at the group, before the charm left his face and was replaced by concern, at their solemn faces. Before he could ask, Sekh said, “Arabella’s father… her mother too.” He shook his head. “Dead.”

Wyll’s brow creased. Astarion didn’t doubt he remembered every tiefling child from the Grove. He was too good- the sort of man Astarion had dreamed about in his youth to whisk him off his feet. “Arabella?” Wyll asked, and Sekh sighed.

“I don’t know- not there. I never saw her at Last Light.” Sekh glanced back at the house, before a shudder rolled through him. “Take the lute back to Halsin. I’ll stay and look for her- find Karlach, Lae’zel, and Gale. They can help.”

Astarion could tell Wyll wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He trusted Sekh- and Astarion wondered if the drow realized just how hard earned that trust had to be.

Sekh turned back to Shadowheart, and Astarion watched as the drow took her face in his hands softly. The touch was so gentle, and Astarion could feel it himself. “Shadowheart,” he said, very softly, “go back with Wyll, okay?”

Astarion wasn’t sure what had happened to the cleric, but it wasn’t good, that was for sure. He also knew the cleric held a rather special place in Sekh’s heart. Yet he only felt a momentary spark of jealousy, before it was quickly smothered.

Shadowheart nodded slowly, and Sekh gave Wyll a silent look, before he turned to Astarion. “I promise I won’t be long.”

Wait- “You expect me to go too?” Sekh opened his mouth to respond, and Astarion stepped closer, didn’t give him the chance. “I’m not leaving you again.”

And he meant it. Damn the drow for terrifying him back at Moonrise- he’d be damned twice over before he let the man out of his sight again.

Astarion’s mouth was set in a firm frown. Sekh sighed, but relented, didn’t argue, and simply gave Wyll and Shadowheart a nod, before turning away. Astarion walked with him around the hulking House of Healing, towards the decrepit cemetery that seemed to have sprouted from its fetid corpse. The grounds were eerily silent, except for the whistle of a haunting wind that made Astarion want to shiver.

He was cold, colder than usual. His body was running on empty, his hunger gnawing at him more and more with each passing minute. And while he was quite used to ignoring it, he had gotten used to satiating it as of late. He found it was harder to keep from focusing on it.

They were deep into the graveyard when Sekh started calling for their companions. Astarion kept a few paces back, eyes dancing over the shadows- waiting for one to spring to life. He felt like he was being watched in this wretched darkness, and he hated it. He much preferred to be the terror lurking in the dark.

“Will you check up that way?” Sekh asked, gesturing towards a stretch of the cemetery. “I can go this way, towards the ground fissure. I want to find them sooner rather than later.”

Unspoken, he wanted to find Arabella sooner rather than later.

Astarion sucked at his tongue, before he nodded. “Don’t get yourself killed darling,” he tried to tease, but it came out deathly serious. Sekh’s eyes softened and he reached out, got his hands on Astarion’s waist, tugging him a step closer.

“I promise I won’t die without you.”

Astarion hummed, focusing on the feeling of the drow’s hands on his waist and not the clawing ache in his belly. “You’d better not.” Sekh inclined his head slightly, and Astarion saw the desire for a kiss, written all over his face. “I don’t think you want to kiss me now, my sweet.”

Sekh chuckled, leaned in anyway, placed a soft kiss to Astarion’s lips. “I don’t care,” he mumbled, “I’d kiss you no matter what. So long as you want me to.”

Astarion felt his chest constricting. He didn’t dare speak, didn’t trust himself to do so. Gods damn he had never felt so undone in his life, as he did around this man.

When Sekh released him he stepped back, sparing one final, long look at the drow, before he turned, making his way further into the cemetery. He tried to focus on the quiet around him, for signs of movement, voices, a pulse. It took a while, but he eventually heard Gale’s voice.

He paused next to a Mausoleum, peered around and saw Gale was chatting away with Lae’zel, who looked… less than amused. Her sword was very noticeably unbloodied, which meant they must have not found anything interested in the dark.

He walked over, pausing only when Gale caught sight of him and jumped. “Gods you are silent, Astarion!”

Did he need to remind everyone he was a vampire?

“And a welcome sight,” Lae’zel said, yet there was no venom in her voice. Gale might be annoying her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like him- even if she wouldn’t admit it. Their good spirits diminished when Astarion didn’t bother to mask the discontent on his face.

He didn’t relish providing them a clipped version of what had transpired within the House of Healing, but he did it anyway as they walked, heading back towards where Astarion had left Sekh. He didn’t get beyond the wretched doctor though, before he found Sekh. He was crouched down by a skeleton, pushing the bones aside, a small, well worn book left open next to it. Sekh glanced up before Astarion could get close enough to see and stood up, walking over quickly.

“Where’s Karlach?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. Gale recounted what he’d told Astarion as they’d walked- that they’d found Arabella out in the shadows and Karlach had escorted her back to Last Light. They wanted to look for her parents, and Gale was about to implore that they set off immediately to do just that-

“They’re dead,” Sekh said, his voice grave. Gale pinched his lips shut, and Lae’zel’s frown deepened. Sekh sighed, reached up to rake a hand into his hair, loosening some of it from his knot. “Gods dammit,” he said, before he turned, kicked a stray bone. It flew a few paces away, smacked into an older cracked gravestone.

Astarion swore he could smell the anger on the man. It had been growing, ever since the Creche- he’d seen it nearly take hold when they’d first found Last Light. It could be beautiful, if it was directed at something that deserved to die-

But seeing Sekh swallowed by it, unable to truly release himself from the rage? It made Astarion’s stomach sick. Sicker than it already was.

“We need to get back to camp,” Gale said. “We’ll… find a way to tell her.” Sekh took a calming breath.

“I’ll do it,” he said, and the sadness in his eyes made Astarion want to grind his teeth, rip apart the very air around them. And then, in barely a whisper, something caught and lost in the wind, Sekh repeated, “I’ll do it.”

Once back at Last Light, Sekh made quickly for camp, intent on not keeping Arabella in the dark. Astarion wanted to follow, but the look on the drow’s face told him it was best he didn’t.

Instead, he let himself into the inn, giving a nod to the tiefling children running around, who all actively stopped to wave at him.

When had that started?

He headed for the bar in the back, found Rolan sitting there, a book open on the bar, reading silently. His siblings were nowhere in sight- which meant it was rather quiet. Without a word Astarion settled on one of the stools, rested his chin on his palm, and just watched the tiefling.

“I know you’re there,” Rolan said, flipping the page in his book. He glanced over, and oh, those fiery eyes were just something. Rolan flicked his eyes back to his book, a bit of color rising on his cheeks. He blushed so easily, from just a glance, a moment of attention.

It was cute.

“Did you need something?” he finally asked, and Astarion shrugged a shoulder. Honestly? No. But he found he didn’t want to be alone, while he waited for Sekh.

And he admitted just that- before he could even stop himself. It just happened. Admitting weakness, especially something as precious as not wanting to be alone, had never been something he had the luxury for.

Rolan pushed his book over then, pointing to a place in the page. “Read with me.” Astarion glanced at the page, as he heard the sound of little feet landing on the bar. The resident cat- His Majesty, Astarion at learned- made his way to Astarion and bumped his head against his bicep.

Without much thought, Astarion pet the cat. “What is this?”

“A tome on fire magic,” Rolan admitted, “I’ve been studying it the whole journey. I want to have it memorized before I reach Baldur’s Gate. Perhaps...” he paused, cleared his throat, “I can explain it to you. Just to prove that I know the topic well, of course.”

And not, at all, because the tiefling perhaps was nervous that he didn’t. Perish the thought.

Astarion took the cat into his arms, as it continued to paw at him until he did so, and gave a toothy smile. If Gale had offered to do the same, he would have bemoaned the torture for hours. But Rolan?

It seemed alright, with him.

They hadn’t gotten very far into the book, when they were interrupted. Karlach popped up, lacking her usual bounce, looking almost too serious for Astarion’s liking.

“Astarion,” she said, as Rolan was mid sentence on how best to annunciate for a specific incantation. The wizard paused, and Astarion turned his head, looked at her. “I think Sekh needs you.” Astarion was up before Karlach could take another breath, setting the cat back on the bar- much to His Majesty’s chagrin. Rolan waved him off before he could speak, a few lines forming in his forehead as well, concern that the drow needed something.

Karlach took Astarion by the arm, her latest upgrade meaning she touched everyone at every chance she got- and began walking him through the inn. “You think?” Astarion asked, as they moved.

Karlach nodded. “He’d didn’t… per say tell me that. But he looked…” she paused, “Honestly? Fucking awful after talking to Arabella. And she didn’t take it well- poor thing, wouldn’t expect her to.”

Astarion nodded, as they paused by Dammon’s forge. He could just see Sekh, out by the borders of the light, sitting on the sand by the water’s edge. “He’s been there a while,” Karlach admitted. “I just thought… he might need you.”

She squeezed his shoulder, before turning to leave. Astarion made his way down the rickety old stairs, onto the sand and silt, leaving ghosts of footprints as he made his way over to Sekh.

The drow didn’t look up, when Astarion paused next to him, sat down carefully. He was just staring out into the water, this endless black. Unsure what to say- and was there something to say?- Astarion simply sat with him, staring out into the dark as well. The sight might have been beautiful once- he could almost imagine the lake sparkling in midday, the sky vibrant and clear.

This land must have thrived, once.

Without a word, Sekh leaned over, placed his head on Astarion’s shoulder. The vampire tipped his head to the side, rested it against Sekh’s, and he heard the drow give a little sigh.

“I feel awful,” he whispered, “Arabella…” he swallowed, closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was broken, pained, “Gods she just lost everything.”

“There was nothing you could do,” Astarion offered. It was the truth, her parents were long dead by the time they arrived.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sekh mumbled, shifting slightly. Astarion lifted his head so the drow could sit up properly. “It’s never going to matter to her- or at least, not for a long time.” He added, even softer, “I know too well.”

Astarion shifted a bit, turning more to face Sekh, and the drow mimicked him. His eyes looked so tired. There was so much more here, than just Arabella. It was painfully obvious. And Astarion found he was desperate to know what.

“Care to talk?” he asked, unsure if he had ever actually cared enough about someone else to ask. At least, in his current memory.

Sekh bit his lip, pulled his knees up and folded his arms over them. “You don’t need to hear it.”

Astarion frowned. “I can judge that for myself.” The drow closed his eyes, and then quietly, he spoke.

He spoke of his own parents- the parents Astarion knew so very little of. Sekh had spoken of his father once, but that was it. Astarion had filed it away, despite the drow having wished he would forget. Sekh in the thick throws of just waking had been something Astarion kept locked in his ribs.

Sekh’s own family, Astarion learned very quickly, were long dead. He’d been older than Arabella when it happened, but not by enough to be anything but a child. Slaughtered, in their own home, by one of the daughters of the house his mother served as a hired sword-

A house who employed his father as well, to tend to their most intimate needs. Hell, the whole town, small as it was, had been set ablaze, nothing but ash and burnt flesh and boiling blood.

“I’d be dead too,” Sekh admitted, “if not for Syl.” As if in response, Astarion saw those shadows on his face shifting. He knew they did that, even when his patron wasn’t present- but a part of him found comfort in perhaps her responding to just Sekh speaking her name. “I screamed her name until I swore my throat would bleed… and she came. She slaughtered everyone in my house. She said…” he paused, closed his eyes. “Life for life. She had been waiting years to repay the life I gave her as a child.”

It made sense, in that moment, the protectiveness Sekh had always demonstrated over his patron. How he was quick to bristle if anyone compared his pact to Wyll and Mizora’s.

Sekh pressed his forehead to his arms, looking as if he wanted to hide from the world. “This is pathetic,” he muttered, “I just don’t want to see Arabella going through this. I don’t want to see anyone go through it.”

Astarion lifted his hand, but hesitated. He wasn’t exactly sure how to comfort- he couldn’t remember a time before Sekh that anyone had comforted him. It felt like a lost skill.

So he simply did what he would want Sekh to do.

He reached out, ran his fingers along the drow’s hair. Sekh carefully lifted his head, and Astarion moved closer, got an arm around him, pulled the drow to his chest. “Astarion,” he whispered, as Astarion’s other arm wrapped around him, held him tight.

The vampire hushed him, and he felt Sekh tremble, before his face was pressed tight to Astarion’s chest. His breaths were uneven, shaking-

And Astarion realized Sekh was crying. The realization felt like it opened a gaping maw, in his chest. He ached around the sudden empty cavity, found he was holding the drow tighter, desperately. Sekh clutched at him, gave a little whine, and Astarion squeezed his own eyes shut.

They burned, knowing there wasn’t anything to be done, about the past. He couldn’t undo the death of Sekh’s family, just as the drow couldn’t undo two centuries of torture.

“I have you,” Astarion whispered, rocking slightly. Sekh didn’t answer, just held tight to Astarion. The vampire rubbed his back, let the minutes drag on endlessly, until the drow’s breathing had calmed down. When Sekh finally pulled back slightly, lifted his head, his eyes were slightly red, wet streaks on his cheeks.

The maw in Astarion opened wider.

“I’m being pathetic,” Sekh whispered, repeating what he’d said only minutes ago, “I just… I don’t want to see Arabella going through this. I don’t want to see anyone go through this.” Astarion reached up, thumb rubbing along one tear streak, and Sekh turned, pressed a kiss to his palm. “I never mourned them. Not for more than a few moments, in the night. I just… kept going.”

Astarion pressed his forehead to Sekh’s. He understood that feeling, too deep in his very soul. He’d never mourned who he was, all he lost- all that Cazador ripped from him.

He’d never felt like he needed to. But sitting here, with his drow falling apart in his arms- he realized perhaps he did.

“Someday,” Astarion offered, “when this is done. You can mourn.” He paused, closed his eyes, and silently added-

And I will too.

Sekh nodded, before he reached up, covered one of Astarion’s hands. And, echoing the vampire’s own words, whispered, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Astarion had to smile, and when Sekh kissed him, he fell into it eagerly. Reassuring, soft movements of his mouth that made Astarion dizzy, his body vibrating with a level of affection he didn’t know he could harbor. He swore he could experience every emotion within the span of a breath, with this man.

Astarion tipped his head, tried to kiss Sekh deeper, wanted to crawl inside his bones, inhabit every empty space inside him. If there were no empty spaces, perhaps he’d forgot his losses, for even a moment.

Astarion pulled at Sekh, let himself fall backwards. The drow followed him, covered his body as Astarion laid out in the damp sand, getting his hands into Sekh’s hair, wanting to free it completely. The kisses still held an almost innocence to them, even as Sekh teased Astarion’s lower lip with his teeth, as the vampire pushed his tongue into his mouth.

It felt so good, to simply kiss, be kissed, with no expectations.

Sekh pulled back slightly, and Astarion tried to chase him, didn’t want him to stop. But the drow chuckled, offered him the sweetest smile. “You’re very good at making me feel better,” he admitted. “Thank you.”

No one had ever told Astarion that he’d made them feel better- let alone thanked him, for how he made them feel. It was strange, to try to fix the pain someone was feeling, instead of being the cause.

Unsure what to say, if there even was anything to say, Astarion was happy to accept another kiss from the drow. He was falling back into it, grasped at Sekh’s now free hair, at his back, thinking he’d like the man to kiss him until his lips were numb-

But then that clawing hunger in his belly raked its talons along his insides. Astarion winced, felt his belly seizing up on itself, and Sekh broke the kiss, looking down at him with concern. Astarion damned himself then- because he hadn’t been done being thoroughly, fully, irrevocably kissed by this man.

“It’s nothing,” Astarion whispered, even as his stomach grumbled like that of a child’s. Gods, it hadn’t done that since he’d first gotten used to the hunger, to starving.

It seemed that now that he knew what it was like to be satiated, his body was determined to make his hunger everyone’s problem.

Sekh sat up, and Astarion begrudgingly followed. “You need to feed,” Sekh said, pushed his sleeve up, ready to bare his wrist. And as tempting as the man’s blood always was, Astarion couldn’t imagine taking from him, just then.

Besides, he was so hungry, he feared his control. And the last thing he wanted to do on this gods forsaken plane was hurt the drow.

He refused to dwell on that thought.

He shook his head, pushing Sekh’s wrist away. “No,” he said, as the drow raised his brows in confusion. Hating to admit it, Astarion added quietly, “I need more than that.”

Sekh nodded in understanding, before he suddenly grinned, nearly jumping to his feet. The sudden switch felt like whiplash- but oh, the drow did seem quick to change emotions. He reached for Astarion, and the elf let him pull him to his feet. “Leave it to me,” he said, and Astarion gave him a questioning look. Sekh just kissed his cheek affectionately. “Can you wait a bit longer?”

Astarion nodded. He’d starved for near two centuries- what was one more night?

Astarion waited back at camp, happy to recline by his tent, flipping through a book. Shadowheart had pillaged a few from one of the abandoned homes they found, before making it into the shadow cursed lands, and had insisted Astarion read this one.

It was filthy, and rather hilarious at how poorly it was written.

He hadn’t seen her, since their return from the House of Healing- and he considered perhaps seeking her out. She had been in a bad way, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, all of this band of little freaks meant something to him, now.

He hadn’t even closed the book, however, when Karlach popped into his space, positively grinning. She had some blood on her armor, sweat on her brow- but she was in better spirits than when she had gathered Astarion up from the inn.

“..Yes?” he asked. He could feel the energy rolling off her.

“Come with me,” she said, “your man has something for you.”

Astarion scoffed- but would have flushed, had he had the blood in his system. He closed the book, setting it aside and standing, following Karlach through the camp, around Last Light. They made their way down the side of the building, and then under, to a cellar door. Karlach paused, as Astarion reached for the door. He looked back at her, and her grin only grew. It had to hurt her cheeks.

“Pretty sure this party is invitation only,” she said, “but enjoy.” She winked, before turning on her heel, leaving Astarion alone.

He pushed the door open, let himself into the large basement, far too curious for caution- not that it seemed warranted. He was a few paces in when he could hear heavy breathing, pained and frustrated little grunts.

He paused, glanced into one of the open rooms, and felt his blood suddenly running hot.

Sekh was standing in the center of the room, lit by torches, his foot on the back of a half orc, keeping him pinned to the ground. In one hand he held a rope, pulled taut, bound around the man’s wrists, against his back as well.

His hair was completely free, and he looked almost terrifying in the flickering light, a wicked smile on those sinful lips, his eyes dancing. But Astarion was anything but afraid.

“What have you done?” Astarion asked, not moving into the room. His voice danced with amusement, and Sekh’s smile only grew.

“Consider it an offering.” He dug his foot harder into the man’s back, and the half orc cursed. “I’ll never let you starve, Starshine.” Astarion felt a familiar giddiness, in his belly. He took a few steps closer, eyes taking in every twitch of Sekh’s body, every flicker of his eyes. The shortsword at his side was still bloodied, and Astarion could hear his pulse, slightly elevated- smell the sweat on his skin.

He was salivating, his fangs aching into his gums- at the prospect of blood, yes- but also from the power that Sekh seemed to radiate, in that moment. He was ethereal.

The half orc spouted more curses, thrashing. He cursed Sekh, had a few colorful words to share about his drow blood- and Sekh just clicked his tongue, moved his boot to the man’s neck and pressed, cutting off his air for a moment.

“I thought about delivering him dead so you wouldn’t have to hear him- but I thought this might be preferred.” Astarion dropped down to his knees, and Sekh moved his foot off the half orc, kicked him so he rolled over. The man’s cultist robes were torn, dirtied. Astarion cast a glance up at Sekh, feeling as if this wasn’t real.

There had to be a trick, someone pulling strings, ready to take away the promise of freedom from the hunger. But Sekh just looked at him affectionately, and whispered, “feed, my love.”

Astarion pushed at the half orc’s head, bared his throat, and opened his mouth so wide it ached. He sank his fangs into the man’s warm skin, felt him thrash. As he did Sekh pulled on the ropes binding him, and said almost soothingly, “hush, it’ll be over soon.”

Astarion felt his pulse spike, his body shake over that. He bit harder, before he pulled his fangs back, the man’s pulse flooding his mouth with blood. He drank eagerly, swallowing mouthfuls as the cultiusts’s thrashing calmed, the life draining from his quickly.

Astarion bit a second time, opening his neck further, felt blood trickling down his chin. He grasped at the man desperately, his body humming with delight over being fed. He felt heat beginning to radiate under his own skin, his mind clearing.

He heard Sekh drop down next to him, felt the drow’s hand rubbing along his back. Astarion shoved at the man’s body, rolling him onto his back properly, and climbed over him, pinning him down as he went for his throat, tearing in for a third bite. The cultist barely gave a noise, his pulse quickly fading. He’d be dead very soon.

The hand on his back moved to his hair, and Astarion writhed in sheer ecstasy, body thrumming with a fiery energy. Sekh’s fingers tangled in his curls, as Astarion heard the half orc’s final, pathetic death rattle.

It didn’t matter- he would still bleed.

The vampire lifted his head, gasping for an unneeded breath. He glanced at Sekh, who was simply watching him, eyes utterly enraptured.

It made Astarion feel beautiful, even in the most grotesque moment.

He pushed himself up on his knees, leaving the deadman to lie for a moment, and reached for Sekh, gripped his chin, his hair, and pulled him close. The drow’s breathing was quick, and Astarion felt it against his wet lips for a moment, before he kissed him. Sekh didn’t shy away from the blood on Astarion’s lips, tongue- he groaned, hands reaching for his waist, holding tight as Astarion pushed his tongue into his mouth, forced the drow to taste the offering he’d given him.

He felt Sekh tremble, and Astarion pulled him closer, until his lover was flush to him. The desire to simply crawl into Sekh’s bones was burning hotter than ever- and Astarion couldn’t explain it-

Except, in that moment, he felt safe.

Sekh finally pulled back, gasping for breath, eyes dilated, his lips smeared red. Astarion knew the half orc’s blood was all over his own mouth, chin- hell, he could feel a rivet had made its way down his neck.

The drow licked his own lips, and Astarion groaned, didn’t even try to muffle the noise. “Darling, wicked man,” he breathed, and Sekh gave him a smile to match. Astarion reached up then, pushed at his upper lip with his thumb, saw the confusion flash on Sekh’s face. “Just looking for your hidden fangs,” he mused, “I’d swear you have a taste for blood just as strong as my own.”

Sekh flicked his tongue against Astarion’s thumb, and Astarion felt heat coiling in his belly, his groin. He pulled his hand back, glanced down at the man still beneath him. There was still so much blood in him.

Sekh’s hands squeezed at his waist, signaling him to move. Astarion crawled off the man, watched as rolled the man enough to free his wrists from the rope bindings. Sekh shoved the arm of the man’s robe up, exposing his arm. He pulled out a small knife, before he sat back on the ground, an inviting space between his legs, against his chest opening.

Astarion crawled over him, didn’t need to be asked. He settled with his back to Sekh’s chest, was enveloped in his heat, the scent of his skin, the hum of his pulse. Sekh offered the half orc’s arm, which Astarion took, as Sekh sliced the tip of his knife into his skin, opening a new wound. Blood welled to the surface, and Astarion pulled it to his mouth, greedily drinking it in.

Sekh kissed his curls as he drank, an arm curling around him, holding him. Astarion relaxed back against him, closed his eyes as he reveled in the feeling of being full, satiated- and yet still drinking. He was almost dizzy with the feeling.

Sekh’s hand splayed on his belly, rubbed gently, and Astarion knew that hand could easily slide lower, settle between his legs, bring a second ecstasy to this sordid moment. He almost wanted it, badly-

But Sekh’s hand stayed firm. “More?” Sekh asked, as Astarion pulled from the man’s arm, mouth open, bloodied fangs glistening. The deadman’s blood flow had slowed considerably.

Astarion wasn’t sure if he could fit more blood in him- and yet he wanted it. He wanted to drink until his stomach ached. He had never been allowed to do that- and on the blood of a thinking creature…

Astarion dropped his head back against Sekh’s shoulder, wordlessly. Sekh got his other arm around him, fingers continuing to dance along his belly.

The hunger was startlingly, beautifully silent.

“I don’t think I can,” Astarion admitted, after long, silent minutes passed. How had Cazador ever indulged on all of those victims? Astarion didn’t think he could ever fully drain a single person.

Even thinking his old master’s name flooded Astarion with the dreadful feeling, again, that Sekh would have been the perfect spawn. That Cazador would have unhinged his jaw and devoured this man like a fucking serpent, would have reveled in his bloodlust, his charm.

Would have broken him in the most ugly of ways.

Astarion closed his eyes, forced the thoughts away. He didn’t want to tarnish this moment, the sheer sliver of utter perfection that shouldn’t have existed. But he must have tensed, because Sekh was slowly guiding him to sit up, so that Astarion could twist in his lap, open his eyes, meet the drow’s stare.

The silent question of what he was thinking, what thoughts were running rampant in the vampire’s head.

Astarion ran his tongue along his fangs, thought to simply sit in silence. Sekh’s silence was proof enough that the man wasn’t going to ask, even if he was curious as to what was going on inside Astarion’s head.

And yet- “You would have been the perfect spawn.” He said it slowly, quietly, as if the words were knives, were slicing open his cheeks, his gums with each annunciation. “He would have loved you, loathed you, ruined you.”

Astarion didn’t need to say who, and he was thankful for that. Uttering Cazador’s name felt like blasphemy, in that moment.

Sekh hummed, before he tipped Astarion’s chin up. “Astarion,” he said, carefully, “he won’t have me.”

Of course the drow would know the nameless, aching fear that swarmed in Astarion like wasps. Of course the vampire wouldn’t need to say the words, to speak the terror into existence like a hex- Sekh simply knew.

He knew Astarion far more than the vampire felt anyone ever had, in such a short time.

Sekh pressed a soft kiss to Astarin’s forehead. “And he’ll never have you again.”

It felt like it should be an empty promise. It felt like Astarion should laugh bitterly, sob, because no one could promise that.

Yet, he found himself relaxing, found himself seeking out Sekh’s mouth for a slow, languid kiss. Found the fear quieting.

Found he believed the drow.

The silence in the room settled over Astarion, broken only by the sweet, wet sounds of Sekh’s kisses. The man drank down the war of two centuries, replaced it with something far sweeter, that Astarion swore he was drifting into a new realm, somewhere timeless, ageless, endless.

When Sekh finally pulled back, Astarion swore his lips were nearly numb, tingling slightly.

The man studied Astarion, before he smiled, reached up and traced Astarion’s lips with a single finger. Astarion opened his mouth without hesitation, just enough for Sekh’s fingertip to slip past his lips. The drow pressed the pad of his finger to one fang, and Astarion felt the suddenly bloom of a few droplets on his tongue.

He groaned, couldn’t stop himself, and Sekh’s eyelids were heavy as he whispered, “I want my blood to always be the last you taste.”

Astarion would never argue that. The subtle sweetness, heavy and decadent, coated his tongue- and even just a few drops felt like a feast.

Sekh had sent Astarion back to camp alone- told him he would take care of the remains of his meal. He’d wiped his face on his own robes, teased him about being a messy eater, and Astarion may have stolen a few more kisses- as many as the drow would give him, before he was chased off.

Camp was fairly quiet- most of his companions having turned in for some rest. He spotted Karlach still up, stretched out, studying the blackened sky above- she lifted her head when she heard his footsteps, and just gave him a knowing little smile.

He made his way to Sekh’s tent, not his own, and settled outside it, sighing softly. His belly ached slightly, but not unpleasantly so. He was feeling drowsy now, as if he could fall into his trance at a moment’s notice- asif he could almost find sleep without the help of an angel’s kiss.

He closed his eyes, wasn’t sure how long he sat there, drifting in nothing- but he came back to himself when he heard hushed speaking. He cracked his eyes open, stood up slowly, moving around Sekh’s tent-

And found the drow sitting on the ground with Arabella, the young tiefling looking at the short sword that Sekh had placed in her lap. “This was my mother’s,” he said, as Arabella carefully touched the edges, just soft enough not to cut. “She died with it in hand- it’s the only thing I have of her.”

Astarion watched as Arabella reached up, rubbed at one of her eyes. Her cheeks were tear stained still. “I don’t have anything of mom and pops…”

Sekh stood up then, whispered something to her, and left the sword in her hands. When he turned towards his tent, he saw Astarion, and flashed him a small smile, walking over. He didn’t say a word, just brushed a hand along his arm, before he ducked into his tent, returning a moment later and heading back for Arabella.

He crouched down and held out a small chain, a locket dangling from it. Astarion didn’t recognize it, but Arabella’s eyes lit up and the sword fell from her lap as she took it, clutched it in her hands.

“You do now,” Sekh said, “I think your mother gave us that just to keep it safe for you, one day.” He reached out, smoothed Arabella’s hair back. “It’s going to hurt for a long time, but I promise- someday, it’ll get better.”

Arabella nodded, and Sekh wrapped her in a tight hug, held her quietly. Astarion turned then, afraid of intruding, and let himself into the drow’s tent, sitting on his bedroll. He didn’t have to wait long before Sekh let himself in. He sat down next to Astarion, and said, maybe more to himself than to the vampire, “She’ll be alright.”

Astarion leaned against Sekh’s shoulder. “So,” he said, “you have mommy’s sword?”

Sekh chuckled, dug his elbow into Astarion at the little tease. The vampire smiled. “Yes, I do. And I’m terrible with it compared to her. She’d have my head.” Sekh shifted, before he added, “Thank you, by the way. For earlier.”

Astarion glanced up at him, but Sekh was just staring forward.

“I’d like to mourn, someday,” he finally said, and quietly added, “with you. I think I feel safe enough to finally acknowledge everything, if you’re there.”

Sekh reached over, took one of Astarion’s hands, tangled their fingers together. The vampire squeezed his hand, and whispered in near silence, I’d like that.

He felt safe enough to mourn the loss of his first life too, with Sekh. Felt like he could perhaps feel the grief and not let it overcome him.

They sat there in silence, for another few minutes, fingers locked together, before Sekh let go, reached into his robes. When he pulled his hand out it was closed, quite obviously having something nestled into his palm.

“I thought this was a good idea earlier,” Sekh said, before he cleared his throat, “but now I feel a bit like an idiot.” He opened his hand, and Astarion saw a set of rings, sitting there. Aged gold, a stone that resembled cool, placid water. “I found them,” Sekh added, glancing away, “earlier. In the House of Healing and the cemetery. Separate but so close.” He turned to face Astarion, let one drop to his lap as he held the other, lifting Astarion’s hand.

The vampire watched, his heart hammering, hammering, and then stopping, as Sekh slid it up over his middle finger. It fit too well.

“Whoever they were,” Sekh offered, “they were so close to each other’s embrace. Maybe they knew that even apart, even dying, they were still together.”

He let go of Astarion’s hand, and the vampire lifted it, studying the old ring, as Sekh picked up the other, placed it on his own middle finger. This had been what the warlock had found, when he’d been sifting through those bones.

It should have been ridiculous, it should have been too much- but Astarion felt his eyes burning, realized he wanted to sob.

“I just want you to know,” Sekh said, as he took Astarion’s hand again, kissed his knuckles, “that you’re safe now. That I’m here. And…” Sekh took a slow, steadying breath. “I’m going to take care of you, no matter what happens.”

Astarion surged forward then, wrapped his arms around the drow’s neck, kissed him. He squeezed his eyes shut, told himself over and over and over that he wouldn’t break-

But a single tear slipped past his silver lashes, and he prayed to every god that had never listened that Sekh wouldn’t notice. That he wouldn’t see just how desperately Astarion needed him- because it was terrifying, to suddenly have something so precious that could be ripped away.

And Astarion wanted to believe Sekh, down in the depths of his soul- but something inside Astarion gnawed at him, whispered cruelly that this man was too good, and there was no way this could last.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #sekh'met #sekstarion #tavstarion #astarion/the dark urge #astarion x tav

9 notes · View notes

littlemourningstarr · 7 months

Text

Sweet Blood

The Shadow Cursed lands are just as vile as Halsin had warned- made only worse by the fact that Sekh'met has been watching the party fall apart, piece by piece. Lae'zel, forsaken by her Queen, Gale, abandoned by his Goddess. One more tragedy may be enough to push the drow over his limit. That tragedy comes in the form of the tieflings, who have found refuse at Last Light- yet so many are gone, taken to Moonrise. Lives that Sekh feels weigh directly on his shoulders. Lives he needs to save, at any cost. Good thing for him, he's not alone.

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Transmasc tav

Part of the Eternally Yours series!

Tags: Transmasc tav, canon-typical violence, blood drinking, love confessions, fluff, there's actually no smut here, how is coffee not more centric to these characters

Sekh felt a headache, blooming behind his eyes. If watching Lae’zel have hear heart shattered by Vlaakith hadn’t been enough, knowing that Gale’s fucking goddess was asking him to kill himself would have been, to have his ribs caving in, piercing his heart.

His companions didn’t deserve this.

And now, here they were, in the damned Shadow Cursed lands, all feeling the effects of the hungry shadows- finally finding light, only to be greeted with vines constricting so tightly around Sekh’s legs, he swore he was going to lose feeling quickly.

Sekh gritted his teeth, staring at the older elf in front of him- Jaheira. “We saved your Harpers,” he nearly spat, the anger roiling in him.

This wasn’t fair. Nothing ever had been, but when fair had only been in relation to himself, well- Sekh didn’t much care then. But he swore he was losing his mind, seeing everyone around him broken to pieces.

He hadn’t had anyone aside from Syl, since his parents’ death. Over fifty years of loneliness- it had left him weak, in watching anyone he might care about hurt.

“And this is the thanks we get?” He yelled, clutching his fists. Behind him, his party was tense- no one moved, they were far outnumbered, but Sekh didn’t think it mattered. If they wanted to tear everyone here limb from bloody limb and burn the inn to the ground, they could.

Magic coursed through him. He pulled at his bond with Syl, his left hand crackling with her shadows. His right went cold as death, the necrotic magic in his blood pushing to the surface with bruising force.

“Stand down, True Soul.” Jaheira spoke through her own gritted teeth, still clutching the bottle with the Mind Flayer tadpole trapped within. It was wriggling, calling to the one in Sekh’s head, which squirmed back excitedly.

He wanted to gouge his eyes out and just remove the fucking thing himself.

At the thought he felt Syl pulling at his mind, her voices swarming in his head, but he shut her out- something he hadn’t done in a long, long time. His shoulders pulled back, and he heard Astarion yell his name, as if in warning.

Sekh only stopped, because a very familiar little tiefling was suddenly rushing between him and Jaheira. “Stop!” Mol held her arms out, back to Sekh as if she had nothing to fear from him.

He swallowed thickly, felt sweat trickle down his spine. He hadn’t realized his vision had narrowed, that he had been focused on Jaheira’s chest, aiming to blast Syl’s shadows directly through her heart. Aiming to kill, in an instant.

“He saved us, they all did. Back at the Grove.” Jaheira’s eyes snapped from Sekh to the party behind him. She relaxed, just a tick. “Saved some of my friends too- one from Harpies, and one from a mean snake.”

She glanced back at Sekh, grinning in her sweet yet conniving way.

“I’d basically trust him with my life.”

“How can this be?” Jaheira seemed torn, and Sekh took a breath, trying to steady his heartbeat. Trying not to focus on how quickly he’d been ready to dispatch her to the hells. “He should be under the cult’s control.”

“It’s this.” Sekh glanced behind him, to Shadowheart, who strode forward, producing the artifact. He tried hard not to focus on the uneasy looks the party was giving him.

Instead, he recanted to Jaheira quickly what the artifact had done for them- blocking out the Absolute’s voice, someone within claiming to be protecting them.

Shadowheart walked closer to Jaheira, and the elf held out the bottle with the tadpole. The wretched thing thrashed, seemed to bloat, before it ruptured, a sickening little screech barely contained in the glass. Jaheira recoiled, slightly. As the parasite died, Sekh admitted why they’d come-

To dethrone the Absolute. To destroy these parasites. To gain their freedom.

“Congratulations,” she said, as the vines finally receded from their hold on Sekh’s legs. He stumbled, his legs partially numb- was thankful when Wyll stepped forward and braced his arm. “You’ve earned the benefit of the doubt. Come inside, we should talk.”

She turned her back- a larger sign of trust than Sekh had expected- and headed for the inn. Around him, Sekh could feel the party relaxing, the Harpers who had been poised to lunge should Jaheira give the order, quickly turning to other business.

“You alright?” Shadowheart asked, taking a step closer to Sekh.

He nodded. “Just can’t feel my legs completely.”

She frowned. “No. Not that.” She tucked the artifact away. “You snapped.” She snapped her fingers, in emphasis.

“I’m tired,” Sekh admitted, the headache full fledged now. “We’ve been through a lot. This just… pushed me.” Her frown deepened, but she said nothing else, and Sekh was glad for it. He wasn’t sure he had felt a gut wrenching anger like that in all his life-

Well, there was the day that Gnoll Matrirach had thrown Astarion off a fucking cliff, and he’d acted in sheer rage, choking her with his magic. But that had been deserved. This situation? It would have been solved with a level head.

The party dispersed slightly. Karlach caught sight of Dammon and was off, running to the small forge he had. Sekh was glad for that- they had found another hunk of Infernal Iron along their journeys, and he was hoping the tiefling might have thought of another way to help stabilize Karlach.

The Inn was decent sized, Sekh realized as they stepped inside. He caught sight of the tiefling children rushing about, and felt a genuine smile reaching his lips. They’d made it this far. He was glad.

He’d been worried about them.

And if they were here, perhaps-

“Come, we have much to discuss.”

Jaheira’s voice broke his thoughts. Sekh saw her over at a table, a map spread out before her. He glanced at his party- noticed he’d lost Halsin and Wyll now, they two disappearing through a door off to the right. Sekh moved to head for her, felt Astarion suddenly moving up beside him, a hand finding the small of his back.

Sekh wanted to sag into him. His skull ached so fiercely, the exhaustion thrumming harder than his pulse.

“You alright?” the vampire asked, so quietly Sekh could barely hear him. He nodded- knew there wasn’t time to explain that he couldn’t stomach the sheer torment he was watching everyone go through. That their personal hells felt like they were burning him alive, and he didn’t know how to help. That the helplessness was possibly the worst feeling he’d had, in countless years.

“Have a drink,” Jaheira said, when they reached her. She gestured towards a glass of wine, holding her own cup. Sekh picked the glass up, as Jaheira toasted, “To your health.” He held it close to his lips- it smelled wrong, a hint of a salty bitterness. But he didn’t think it would harm him.

He drank a mouthful with Jaheira. He felt Astarion nearly press into his shoulder, trying to be close, and knew the vampire didn’t approve of the recklessness. But Sekh knew they needed this woman to trust them- and he had royalally fucked that, only minutes before.

“Tell me, is the parasite changing you?”

Sekh set the cup down. “It’s trying to change us all,” he admitted, “but we’re resisting.”

“And you’re sure you’ll continue to?” She didn’t need to add a threat to the question, it hung in the air. Stop resisting and be put down. Honestly, Sekh had no desire to be a Minderflayer- he knew none of them did- so he welcomed death if it came to that. If his body began to decay and his soul withered.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Jaheira leaned her hands on the table, her demeanor relaxing further. “You’re exactly what we’ve needed. A True Soul outside of the cult’s clutches. Someone who can get close to the man that cursed this place, that has been leading the cult.”

A man, Sekh quickly learned, named Ketharic Thorm. Jaheira recounted how she had killed him once, about the battle that had taken place within these lands before they were cursed. And it seemed, Sekh realized, that Shadowheart’s presumption that the shadow magic came from Shar was right.

He heard Syl growl, within his mind. No love lost for the Goddess of Loss, he knew. No love lost for any of the gods, truly.

“We cannot get close enough to Moonrise,” Jaheira added, “but you? They would never know. We know True Souls recognize their own- but I doubt they could tell you were not under the Absolute’s thrall.”

“These shadows are thick.” Gale, who had been far too quiet- not that Sekh could blame him. The man’s mind had to be a tumultuous mess.

His question didn’t need to be voiced. How would they even get close?

“You’re not our only glimmer of hope. Head upstairs and meet Isobel- she can give you a blessing that will be enough for you to walk amongst the thinner shadows.”

Well, better than nothing. Sekh nodded, and it seemed that was that. Conversation done.

Jaheira was quite good at keeping things to the point.

Sekh moved away from the table, heading for a familiar face. Alfira, the tiefling bard, was sitting, shoulders hunched. He said her name, a few steps away, and she glanced over her shoulder, before standing up so forcefully she nearly toppled the bench she had been sitting on.

“It’s you! You’re here!” She rushed over, grasped Sekh’s biceps, before embracing him. Taken aback, Sekh froze for a moment, before he returned the hug in kind.

“What happened? Where is everyone?”

Alfira tensed, pressed her forehead to Sekh’s shoulder. And quietly, in a voice that was barely keeping from shattering, she told him about the shadows, about Zevlor, about losing so many.

About Rolan, protecting the children, and Cal and Lia being taken.

Sekh glanced across the inn, found the wizard in question hunched over the bar. “He said he stayed because of you,” Alfira managed, straightening up and wiping at her eyes. Sekh realized there were tear stains already on her cheeks- how long had she been crying? “How do you do it? How do you keep going?”

Sekh bit his lip. “I… don’t have a good answer,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not ready to die yet.” Alfira nodded, just once, and Sekh reached out, squeezed her shoulder. “I’m going to Moonrise. I’ll find them, I’ll find all of them, and I’ll bring them back.”

And suddenly the light seemed back in her eyes- albeit, dimmer than Sekh remembered at the party. “If anyone can, it’s you.” She reached up, squeezed the hand on her shoulder, before turning, settling back down. Sekh decided to leave her to her thoughts, eyes now focused across the inn.

He headed for Rolan, stopped a few steps away. The tiefling lifted his head, and when he saw it was Sekh, his fiery eyes narrowed. “Oh, it’s you.” The words stung, venom laced, personal. Sekh didn’t exactly blame the man. “If you’re here to save the day again, you’re a little late this time.”

“Sounds like you didn’t need me,” Sekh offered, tipping his head down slightly, wanting to catch Rolan’s stare. “I heard what happened. You saved the kids.”

“Oh sod off,” Rolan spat. “I’m only here because you helped me and my family. I was ready to cut and run back at the Grove, but you had other ideas. Cal and Lia were taken in by your crap- you convinced them to play hero, and now they’re gone.”

Rolan’s voice was a rumble, yet so close to shattering it made Sekh’s stomach ache. And he wanted to argue that staying had been the right thing to do, and Cal and Lia had seen it that way- but that wasn’t what the wizard needed to hear.

Sekh wasn’t sure what he did need to hear. Frankly, he was beginning to think he didn’t know what anyone needed, with the way everyone around him was quickly falling apart. That hurt down in the very core of his being.

“I’m going to Moonrise,” he said, daring to take a step closer. “I’ll find them. I’ll save them. I’ll bring them back.”

“They’re my responsibility,” he spat. “You go save the world, or your own ass- or whatever it is that you do. I’ll fix this.” Rolan paused, before he added, “you’re done enough.”

Sekh felt his gut sinking. He hadn’t even realized that they had caused a bit of a scene, until he felt Astarion brushing up to him, hand sliding along his arm.

“Everything alright, darling?” His voice was low, eyes sharp, pointed at Rolan. The tiefling downed the wine in his tankard, before he set it down and leveled his own hellish stare at Astarion.

“Oh, lovely, one of your attack dogs.” Astarion bared his fangs at that. “Fuck off, all of you. Just leave me be.” Astarion looked quite ready to punch him- and Sekh didn’t want to see that. He grasped the vampire’s arm, gently pulling him away. Astarion resisted for only a moment, before he followed.

“Just let me rough him up a little,” he said, “pretty please?” He fluttered those white eyelashes, and for a moment, Sekh felt just a little lighter.

“You’re trying to make me feel better,” he mused, and Astarion scoffed.

“Oh nonsense. I haven’t got the time to worry about feelings.” A bold faced lie- and Sekh realized he recognized that. “But,” Astarion added, clearing his throat, “perhaps I do prefer when you smile.”

Sekh did- it was small, weak, but real. Things were falling apart, but maybe not everything. They just needed to soldier on. He’d fix this. He’d fix everything.

Wasn’t that what one did, when you cared about the people around you? You fixed their problems?

Sekh assumed it was- and before he could further that train of thought, nearly tripped over something. Astarion grabbed his arm to steady him, and Sekh looked down, noticed a hairless cat glowering up at him.

“Oh dear,” Astarion said, “what a… plump little thing.” Sekh crouched down, held his hand out for the cat to sniff his fingers. It did indeed seem like it had been well fed- rolls and wrinkles of pink skin. It gave his fingers a sniff, before it reared back, hissing loudly.

And Astarion laughed.

“Well,” he said, as Sekh straightened up, the cat scuttering away quickly, “at least you purr for me.” Sekh turned, pressed his hand flat to Astarion’s chest, went to shove him playfully- but the vampire covered it, gave it a squeeze. Sekh felt a familiar fluttering, in his chest- and a sudden, desperate ache to kiss Astarion. Even if just the barest of touches, to his cheek.

But was that crossing a line? Sekh still didn’t know, didn’t know where the lines were- and what they meant. And he hadn’t mustered the guts to broach that with Astarion.

So he held off, giving the elf another small smile, before pulling his hand back. Astarion’s fingers held his hand for just a moment, before releasing him.

Stepping back felt wrong, but Sekh did it anyway.

“Is there anything else we should know?” Sekh asked, body tingling from the blessing Isobel had just bestowed on the group. It was wild, to have everyone crammed into her small quarters. Shadowheart was frowning deeply, to the point that the lines in her face threatened Astarion’s charming smile lines.

Isobel seemed ready to continue, when her head jerked up. “Do you hear that?”

Sekh didn’t- at first. But then this rush of wind, and the doorway to Isobel’s quarters were quite literally kicked in, a large man filling the space. He grinned, rolled his neck as the decaying wings at his back folded in.

Sekh could smell his fetid scent from where he stood.

“Marcus,” Isobel said, eyes wide. The drow quirked a brow- she knew him? But before he could ask, there was a sudden voice, in his head- slightly garbled.

True Soul. My orders are to take her alive.

Sekh gritted his teeth. He hated having someone else in his head- Syl was one thing, but there simply wasn’t room for more. He could feel her bristling, through their connection- feeling the invasion in his mind.

“Touch her,” Sekh said, fingers flexing, knowing this was not going to end peacefully. “And I’ll flay you alive.”

The man chuckled. “You disobey the orders of our god? A shame, True Soul, that her blessing was wasted on you.” He reared back, and suddenly he roared, like a beast. Sekh jerked back, the sound inhuman- and then the quick beating of large wings.

Ghastly, winged ghouls charged in from every opening before the man had even finished his call. And, yeah, peace was not about to happen.

Sekh drew his shortsword, gripping it tightly, as he felt a back press to his. Wyll, his rapier in hand, free hand already blazing with Mizora’s gifted power. The drow grinned, drew his own shadows forward.

There was no need to instruct, no need for anyone to bark orders. The group dispersed towards the noises- Karlach and Lae’zel jumping from the second floor to take on the ghouls attempting to cut through the Harpers below. A roar to the right- and Sekh saw a flash of fur, and then a huge bear jerking a ghoul down, teeth firmly embedded in its thigh.

Sekh shot his magic towards another, as it tried to dive in towards Halsin. He could feel the heat from Wyll’s hellish magic, firing around them. It was chaos within seconds. But Sekh had to admit, it was thrilling chaos, at least.

Sekh managed to block a ghoul’s snapping jaws with his sword, watching it reel back as it bit into the blade, cut its mouth open. “Dolor!” he yelled, shadows leaving him to lurch themselves around the ghoul, forcing it back a few steps-

Directly into Astarion’s waiting daggers. The rogue twisted them, before pulling them free, light on his feet as he hopped to avoid the falling ghoul and spun, daggers sinking directly into the gut of another that had made its way up behind him. If there was time, Sekh could simply watch in awe as the vampire moved. Astarion was as beautiful as he was lethal.

Sekh glanced around, trying to find Marcus in the mess. While the ghouls were annoying and needed to be dealt with, he was the real threat. They would be near mindless without him. He dodged a clawed hand, blindly firing Syl’s magic at the ghoul.

It took a moment, the noise of the room a chaotic roar, but he found Marcus, grabbing one of Isobel’s arms and grinning with yellowed teeth. Sekh watched her say something, before radiant light struck him in his eyes, forcing him to stumble back.

He was too far to get close enough before the man recovered. “Shadowheart!” he yelled, the cleric the closest. She whipped around at the noise, took not even half a second to understand, then rushed the stumbling Marcus, delivering a swift kick to his gut. He stumbled again, and she dropped her shield, held her mace with both hands and lifted it high, bringing it down with crushing force, directly into his head.

Sekh swore he could hear his skull crunch.

Marcus crumpled, and Sekh moved, spearing his shortsword into a ghoul that was making directly for Shadowheart. He lowered his shoulder and forced it back with his weight, felt claws digging into his arm as he did so. There was blood everywhere, and he didn’t have the time to stop and wonder if any of it was his own.

Shadowheart brought her mace down a second time, and Marcus completely stilled, his head caved open, leaking blood and brain matter on the floor. Shadowheart kicked him for good measure, before turning her attention to Isobel.

Knowing the Selunite cleric was in good hands, Sekh turned, trying to take in the mess around. It was long minutes before the rest of the ghouls fell- and by then, the air stank of blood and brimstone.

They were left sweating and panting, by the end, bloodied and unsure from what. Sekh could tell from the noise below that Karlach, Lae’zel, and eventually Gale had kept control. Sekh glanced around his party, as he heard footsteps rushing towards the room, Jaheira bursting in a moment later and hurrying to Isobel.

“Alright?” Sekh asked, as Astarion flicked his blades, blood flinging off them. The vampire licked his lips, then grimaced.

“Oh that is awful,” he said, “gods they taste rotten.” He tucked his daggers away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand- then groaning as he only smeared more blood. Sekh rolled his eyes, reaching out and grasping Astarion’s chin in his hand.

“Hold still,” he said, wiping the blood off Astarion’s mouth with his sleeve. “I’m not surprised they taste awful. Now, my question- are you alright?”

“I suppose so, darling,” Astairon said, rather softly. Sekh let go of him, rolled his own shoulders, grimaced as his arm stung. His sleeve was shredded- which had made cleaning Astarion up easy- but it also showed the gnarly gouges one of the ghouls had left in his arm.

His sword arm, of course. Blasted fucking things.

Astarion reached for Sekh’s arm, lifted it, examined the wound. “I’ll live,” Sekh said, noticing that Astarion’s brow creased with concern. “Shadowheart will fix me up. I’ve had worse.”

The vampire clicked his tongue, but released Sekh’s arm. Seemed he knew there was no point in arguing. Sekh was glad for it. There were other things to focus on-

Namely, how quickly they could get to Moonrise. It seemed the cultists might be feeling dire for Isobel, and Sekh didn’t like them coming for the one beacon of light in these cursed lands.

Sekh let himself back into the inn, hours later. The bodies of the ghouls had been dragged away, left to pile as a part of the barricade. A statement.

He and the party had been cleaned up. Shadowheart had mended his arm, and Isobel had wrapped it in bandages and one of Jaheira’s ointments, promising he’d be fine by morning. Sekh was glad for it- even with Syl and his own magic, he didn’t relish the idea of his sword arm being weak.

Also, he found the ointment smelled quite like dirt, and wouldn’t have wanted to slather it on more than once.

Everything seemed to be calming down for the night. The party was settled in a makeshift camp just beyond Dammon’s forge. The tiefling, bless him, was working on another upgrade for Karlach, which had been the one bit of good news they received.

The sudden, fragile calm, gave Sekh a moment to dwell again on the tieflings at Moonrise- and the guilt he felt, for not being here for them. And the personal guilt, sparked from Rolan’s words. He wanted to find him, just to ensure he hadn’t drunk himself into a stupor- to try and get him to believe that Sekh would bring Cal and Lia home. He’d bring all of them home, or die trying.

He felt he owed them that.

He found there was no one by the bar, however. Or really downstairs at all, except for a few Harpers clanging about. He headed up the stairs, the old wood creaking heavily beneath his footsteps. He wasn’t sure where everyone found room to bed down here, but he’d check all the rooms if he needed to.

Luckily, he didn’t. He paused at a door, heard a familiar voice, and cleared his throat. “Alfira?” A moment later and the door was flung open, the bard rushing out, pulling the door shut tightly behind her, blocking the other tieflings crowded in the room.

“Thank the gods,” she said, her voice hushed, “I was going to come look for you. It’s Rolan.” Sekh went to speak, but before he could, Alfira continued. “The kids said they saw him by the barricade, walking towards the shadows with a torch. I… I think he went after Cal and Lia.”

Sekh felt his muscles going tight. The wizard wouldn’t survive a damn minute in those shadows alone. At least Sekh had Isobel’s blessing- just a torch would barely keep the shadows at bay.

And if it went out…

“I’ll bring him back.”

Before Alfira could say more Sekh was turning, bolting down the stairs. He had his sword holstered at his hip, he could head directly into the shadows without stopping-

“Where are you going?”

Sekh paused, outside the inn now, skidding in the perpetually damp soil. Astarion was sitting on the edge of what was once a fountain, or well, Sekh wasn’t exactly sure- playing with one of his daggers as if he was bored.

“Because it looks like you’re about to run head first into the shadows alone- and that would be very, very stupid.” Astarion hopped up, stowing the blade and moving over to Sekh quickly, eyes narrowing. The boredom faded away to…

Annoyance?

“So please tell me this is not what it looks like.” Astarion gestured to Sekh, and Sekh folded his arms. He could lie, but it felt pointless. Astarion would know.

And Sekh honestly didn’t want to lie to the vampire, about anything.

“It’s what it looks like.”

“Oh what in the bloody hells Sekh-”

“Rolan is out there.” Sekh cut in and Astarion clamped his mouth shut, frowning. For a moment, neither said anything, before Astarion gestured for Sekh to continue.

“And?”

“And…what?”

Astarion scoffed. “And what does it matter? So the wizard has run off to an early death- that seems to be his problem, darling, not yours.”

Sekh frowned, brows furrowing. “Astarion, he’ll die.”

“And, again- what does it matter?” Astarion took a step closer, enough that Sekh could smell the oil he liked to dab on his wrists, behind his ears- bergamot, rosemary. Enlivening. “Seems it was his decision- albeit a very, very stupid one.”

“He’s only here because of me.” Sekh felt his shoulders sagging a little. “Dammit, his brother and sister are at Moonrise because I told them to stay at the Grove. If he dies, if they die, it's on my shoulders.”

Astarion’s frown softened, just a little. Oh, he was still annoyed, Sekh could tell- but the vampire still reached up, tipped Sekh’s chin up. “You’re not going to bear the weight of their lives on your shoulders.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Sekh admitted. “Isn’t that what you do, when you care about someone? When you’re close to someone? Don’t you do that for…friends?”

It felt like the stupidest question Sekh could ask, because he should know. But for so long, it had just been he and Syl. There hadn’t been anyone else to care about. And he liked the siblings- the three of them made him feel a bit lighter. He would have spent the whole evening of the party with them, if he hadn’t had the courage to approach Astarion…

Astarion, who pointedly did not answer him. Astarion, who seemed just as lost as to the answer as well. After a moment he dropped his hand, heaving an overly dramatic sigh. Without a word he turned, walking towards the barricade. Sekh stared for a moment, before the vampire paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“Well? Are you coming or not? Because I’m not rescuing your wizard on your behalf.”

Even with Selune’s blessing, Sekh felt positively cold as death, in these shadows. Last Light had long since faded behind he and Astarion, as they moved along what might have once been a path, overgrown with monstrous roots. It felt deathly silent, except the occasional clicking or hiss, as if the shadows were living.

Syl was swarming inside Sekh’s mind, her emotions reeling, to the point his head was aching again.

“How bloody far could he have gone?” Astarion asked, voice hushed. It felt like they needed to be silent. He paused when Sekh didn’t answer- and honestly, Sekh hadn’t even heard him. He was pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to ask Syl to calm down a little.

When he opened his eyes, Astarion was there, peering close. Sekh jerked back, breath rushing out. “Gods dammit, you didn’t make a sound.”

Astarion smiled. “I’m a vampire, darling, of course I didn’t.” He reached out, cold fingers brushing Sekh’s hand away from his head. The touch was as cold as the shadows, but welcome at least.

“It’s nothing,” Sekh admitted, “Syl is just… lively.” The vampire clicked his tongue, but dropped his hand, following a step behind Sekh when the drow continued on. Sekh had to admit this felt almost hopeless, now- they were so far from the Inn, and maybe Rolan had gone in a completely different direction? Maybe he’d veered off somewhere and they’d missed it?

Maybe the shadows had taken him, bones and all.

It was some time later, when Sekh knew, in his gut, he couldn’t drag Astarion further- they hadn’t rested after the attack on the Inn, the vampire hadn’t fed he was sure, and gods, the shadows were getting so thick he was sure that, blessing or not, they’d be swallowed up-

When they saw a light. Faint, flickering, and the sound of a strained voice, repeating an incantation.

Sekh didn’t think. He sprang into a run, feet pounding against the dirt. Astarion was faster, passing him as Rolan came into view, the tiefling holding a dying torch with one hand, the other directing his spells at the shadows that were swarming him.

There were so, so many.

“Rolan!” Sekh yelled. The wizard jerked his head up, stared at them with shocked, wide eyes- and Astarion was taking a running leap, drawing his daggers and snarling at the shadows, as he plunged them into the nearest abomination.

It shrieked. It was corporeal enough that blades could hurt. That worked to their advantage.

Sekh drew his shortsword, stabbing it into another shadow. His arm ached something fierce from the wound one of the ghouls had inflicted earlier, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it.

He fell into a rhythm, with Astarion, cutting closer and closer to Rolan. He wasn’t sure how effective Syl’s magic would be on these, so he focused on the blade instead. The shadows gave far easier than flesh, but freeing his blade was difficult- almost as if the shadows wanted to devour it, and then him.

“This is going to take hours,” Astarion panted, ducking down to avoid one of the shadows grabbing him.

He wasn’t wrong. They just kept coming- Sekh swore they cut down one, and three replaced it, snarling and shrieking. They sounded ravenous, starving.

Sekh dropped down as he heard Rolan’s voice, and a moment later a bolt of flame burst where he had been, overtaking one of the shadows. Sekh reached out, stabbed into the now blazing abyss, grimacing as it burned his hand. There wasn’t time to stop and check the wound, however.

He stood up, turning, taking the last few steps to Rolan. “Are you alright?” he asked, before he heard Astarion yelling his name. He grabbed Rolan’s arm, jerking them to the side, just as a shadow came flying at them, and kept going out into the dark abyss around them.

“No time for pleasantries!” Astarion shouted, head swiveling between three shadows closing in on him. “I think we need to leave. Now.”

He was most definitely not wrong.

“We can’t get past them,” Rolan pointed out. There was sweat on his brow, along his hairline. His eyes looked exhausted. Sekh wondered how long these things had had him cornered.

“Darling,” Astarion said, backing up towards he and Rolan, his voice strained. Sekh followed his voice, and the three had turned to six shadows, beginning to close in. Gods below. There were more, slowly leaking from the inky dark around them. It seemed they were endless.

Sekh felt a sharp pain in his skull and grimaced, reaching up and grasping at his head. There was screaming in his mind- screaming he knew well.

And as much as he didn’t want to terrify the two men with him, it seemed he wasn’t going to have another choice.

“Astarion, get back!” He yelled, before he tossed his head back and screamed “Sylthek’vin!”

The vampire jerked back a few steps, putting distance between he and the shadows, as Sekh heard the booming echo of the air tearing open. A moment later there was an ear shattering laugh, twin voices, and then she was there, a shadow blacker than the cursed horrors, but radiating heat like fire.

She lunged, and Sekh heard Rolan breath in terror, “What in all the hells is that?”

“Explanations later,” Sekh said, sheathing his sword. “If we get an opening we run.” He flexed his hands, watched as Syl grabbed a shadow in one of her long fingered hands, lifting it into the air with her and grinning with her oh so many needle-fine teeth.

And then the shadows of her belly began to twist.

Sekh watched in awe, as her second mouth appeared, the shadows of her gut seeming to rip apart. Rows and rows of the same needle-like teeth traveled up the seam created in her body, as the maw opened wide, and she swallowed the shadow into herself.

“Oh gods,” Rolan breathed, and Astarion cocked his head, looking fascinated.

“Well. Now that’s a sight.”

Yes, it truly was- but Sekh shook his head. “We have to go,” he said, as Syl grabbed another, laughing eagerly, hauntingly as she crammed it into her belly-maw, the shadow screeching at an unholy note. Without hesitation Astarion leapt into a run, shoulder down, charging into the shadows first. Sekh grabbed Rolan by the arm and jerked him forward, yelling “go!” as the wizard stumbled, but then followed after Astarion.

Sekh ran behind them, dodging a frantically clawing arm. He could feel Syl’s eyes, watching them go, and a glance back caught her stare, her startling smile.

And then those thousand star voids were back on the shadows, and she was back to her fun.

By the time they reached Last Light, all three were panting, nearly dizzy from running. Sekh’s legs ached, and he swore with each step he would be on the ground, having to drag himself forward, crawl pathetically towards the light.

But it didn’t matter. They were alive.

The Harpers on guard gave them shocked looks and a wide berth, and Sekh was fine with that. They paused outside, Astarion collapsing back against the would be fountain, sucking in desperate mouthfuls of air.

And he didn’t even need to breathe.

“Never again,” he managed, voice a bit rough. “Next time you want to play hero, darling, you are on your own.”

It was a very poor attempt at a lie.

Still, Sekh didn’t call him on it- he just needed to sit down-

“Gods damn it all, I can do nothing right!” Rolan tossed the now extinguished torch on the ground, kicking it so it rolled a few paces away. “Not a damned thing!”

“What were you even doing out there?” Astarion asked, not looking amused in the slightest by the wizard’s outburst. Sekh sucked in a breath, clenched his fists and forced himself to stay upright. The movement hurt, his burnt hand stinging, his reopened wound a throbbing ache.

“Saving Cal and Lia!” The Wizard reached up, tugged at his hair. It was in disarray, falling from its knot from the sheer amount of running they had just done. “But instead I end up cornered by shadow fiends and in need of rescue. From you,” Rolan pointed his stare directly at Sekh, eyes worse than hellfire, “of all bloody people.”

“Well, should we have left you to die?” Astarion pushed himself up, took the two steps to get into Rolan’s space, pushed up on his toes to be directly in his face.

“Stop,” Sekh said, leaning back against the rock structure- not of his own action, but because his legs were truly beginning to give out. “Both of you.”

Astarion’s lip twitched, but he took a single step back. Rolan relaxed his shoulders just a tick.

“I failed Cal and Lia- again,” he said, the anger fading from his voice. He simply sounded defeated now. “When they needed me most.”

Sekh went to push off the fountain and stumbled. Astarion turned quickly, reached out and braced his arms. Sekh winced as Astarion gripped at his reopened wound, thw drow’s weight pushing against him. The elf glanced at his arm, took in the fresh blood seeping through his bandages, the dry, cracked skin along his hand, fissured by raw skin-

He frowned. Deeply.

“I don’t give a shit who you failed,” Astarion said, glancing back at Rolan. “Now get inside.” He jerked his head towards the inn, before he bowed his head closer to Sekh. “Darling? Can you walk?”

Sekh nodded, slowly straightening up. “Just… still catching my breath.” Sekh forced a pained smile. “It’s nothing.”

A click of his tongue was all Astarion needed to show he didn’t believe that.

The elf glanced over his shoulder, and Rolan was still there, watching them. “What? We saved your ass, now kindly fuck off.”

Perhaps the vampire was a bit angrier than Sekh originally thought.

Rolan hesitated, before he took a step closer. Astarion tensed, and the wizard paused. “Let’s just get patched up,” he offered, eyes darting to the blood now seeping around Astarion’s fingers. The elf paused, looked as if he might tell Rolan to fuck off for a second time-

But Sekh nodded. “Please,” he said, glancing over at Astarion. The anger in those eyes softened, and Astarion released him, let Sekh straighten up. He walked close enough to touch, as they followed Rolan inside, the inn feeling like a slumbering ghost, with how quiet it was.

They walked back to the bar, and Sekh hoisted himself up onto a stool, wanting to pitch forward, leaning his forehead against the cool, smooth wood. Gods was he tired.

He didn’t have time to be tired.

Astarion pulled his gloves off, tossing them on the bar, before he grabbed at Sekh’s arm, shoved the sleeve of his robe up. He had bled through the bandages earlier wrapped around his arm.

The vampire clicked his tongue again in annoyance- a tell Sekh was noticing that he was sure Astarion was unaware of. “You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said, “or maimed, if you’re lucky enough.”

“Let’s just rewrap it,” Sekh offered, “I’ll talk to Shadowheart in the morning.” Sekh was sure she would have a very disapproving look, but he was sure she could patch him up. At least enough to function. Again.

Sekh went to remove the bandages himself but Astarion batted his hand away, nimble fingers doing it himself. His skin was chilled more than usual, but each touch felt nice, to Sekh. Eased the pain, just a bit.

He closed his eyes, bowed his head a little. His bones ached with exhaustion, and he just wanted a single moment to bask in the comfort he found in Astarion, in all the things that shouldn’t be comforting.

“What are you thinking?” the vampire asked, voice hushed, barely a whisper at all. Sekh slit his eyes open, looked up through thick ginger lashes as Astarion piled the bloodied bandages on the bar.

“That I like how cold you are.” Astarion paused, one brow quirked, looking at Sekh as if the drow had just sprouted an extra head- or three. “What?”

“I would expect that to be off putting,” Astarion admitted, fingers dancing along Sekh’s arm- just missing each tear in his skin, but making the stinging skin calm with his coolness.

“Maybe if it was someone else,” Sekh admitted, as Astarion’s fingers reached his wrist, then moved delicately over burnt skin. “But it’s just a part of you- and I rather like who you are.”

Astarion’s touched paused, his eyes darting up to Sekh’s. Sekh couldn’t exactly explain the sudden burst of honesty- sure, he could blame fatigue and injuries-

But the truth? It was easy to be honest with Astarion.

The vampire parted his lips, as if he was about to speak- but was cut off when fresh bandages were set on the bar, accompanied by Rolan’s voice, “We should get that rewrapped.”

Sekh hadn’t even realized the tiefling had left- hells, he’d forgotten everything and everyone existed, outside of Astarion, for a brief moment. A sweet moment that was gone, Sekh knew, as Astarion pulled back.

Rolan gently grasped Sekh’s arm, turning it to examine the wounds. He frowned, brow creasing- and it was a charming look, Sekh had to admit.

“Playing doctor?” Astarion asked, tone teasing. Sekh glanced at him, but Astarion only smiled- and somehow, it was so sweet that it could have made Sekh pleasantly ill.

“We could wake Isobel,” Rolan offered, eyes glancing down at Sekh’s burnt hand, “more for your hand than your arm.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll be fine until morning.” The tiefling’s frown grew, and he glanced at Astarion. They seemed to share, for a moment, a silent understanding and frustration- and Sekh wanted to laugh. “We can do this Rolan- go get some rest. You don’t need to be around me.”

Rolan gave a grunted hmph, before he released Sekh’s arm, reaching for a jar he had set on the bar as well. Sekh frowned, must have made a little noise, because Rolan glanced at him as he lifted it up.

“... It smells like dirt,” Sekh admitted, and Astarion snorted a very undignified laugh.

“Oh heavens forbid,” he teased, motioning with two fingers for Rolan to bring the jar to him. “Precious little babe will just have to tolerate it.” Astarion swiped his fingers in the cream, before carefully smearing it along one of the large gashes on Sekh’s arm. Sekh winced a little, but the pain was dulled, again, by Astarion’s cool skin. Astarion scooped more on his fingers, pausing before touching the next gash, adding, “But you are right. It smells like gravedirt.”

“Thank you!” Sekh beamed, felt at least like he wasn’t going crazy, and oh, Astarion smiled back. It made Sekh’s belly flutter with those burning moths again, alive and yet dying in a panicked ecstasy.

“Huh.” Rolan folded his arms, as Astarion continued to coat Sekh’s wounds carefully. The drow glanced at him, a silent what in his look. “Just can’t believe I didn’t notice until now.”

“Notice what?” Astarion asked, moving to Sekh’s hand. The drow grimaced, his hand aching far worse than his arm.

Rolan stared at the vampire as if he was insane, then only shook his head. “Nevermind. Here, let me do this.” He lifted the bandages, and Astarion moved to Sekh’s other side, so the tiefling could wrap his wounds. His touch was shockingly delicate, yet precise. The bandage was tight, once he was done, but not uncomfortable. Sekh moved his arm and hand, found it didn’t shift and cause much friction.

“You’re good at this,” he pointed out, as Rolan leaned against the bar, the exhaustion seeping into his face.

“I’ve patched Lia up enough to do it in my sleep.” He paused, then, in a softer voice, “Tell me you meant it when you said you’d bring her and Cal back to me.”

“I swear it,” Sekh said, “Rolan, on my life. If they’re alive, I will bring them back. And the other tieflings too.” Rolan nodded, once, silent acceptance, as Astarion leaned against Sekh’s good arm.

“I hate feeling helpless,” the tiefling admitted, “I should have been able to rescue them myself. If I’m this useless I’m not worth my apprenticeship.”

“No one was getting through those shadows alone,” Sekh pointed out.

“You might have. What… what was that thing that you summoned?”

Sekh gave a nervous smile- but Astarion broke in to answer, “Oh, that was Syl.” Casual, as if everyone should simply know who Sekh’s patron was and not be shocked in any way by her unsettling appearance.

“And that helps me none,” Rolan pointed out.

“My patron,” Sekh offered, “I didn’t summon her- she’s been quite lively since we got into these wretched shadows. I just finally let her through.” He cleared his throat, adding in an almost nervous tone, “I know she’s not… easy to look at, but I swear she is harmless.”

“Oh darling she is not harmless,” Astarion pointed out, “but she is quite friendly. That mouth was new…” Astarion tapped his own chin, as if he was contemplating Syl’s appearance. “Does she have a taste for actual flesh?”

Sekh sighed, hung his head. “Astarion.”

“I’m curious!” Sekh only shook his head, not offering an answer, and the elf gave a pout. Sekh wanted to kiss it away, in that moment- but, well, Rolan was right there. And again, he wasn’t sure where a line could be drawn.

“She has a taste for everything,” was all he offered, and Astarion grinned. Sekh was sure he hadn’t heard the end of this- that Astarion would want to know all about Syl’s tastes- when something dawned on him. “You haven’t fed,” Sekh realized, and Astarion shrugged a shoulder almost limply.

“Not much out here, my sweet. I’ll just have to wait until I can get my teeth into a cultist or two.” Astarion flashed a smile, full fang, and Sekh felt Rolan lean a bit closer, press against his shoulder to get a look at Astarion’s teeth.

“You’re a vampire,” he mused, quietly. “But, how? You were in the sun.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Astarion purred, as Sekh rolled up the sleeve of his uninjured arm, offering his wrist to Astarion.

“Here, at least take something from me.” The thought of that hunger gnawing at Astarion, relentlessly, made Sekh sick. And what was a little more lost blood for him?

But Astarion frowned, pushed his arm away. “No. You’re in no condition…”

“I’m not letting you starve, Starshine.” Astarion shivered, those pretty eyes going just a little wide, but he held fast, refusing to take Sekh’s wrist. Sekh was ready to argue, when Rolan suddenly asked,

“What about me?” Both men glanced at Rolan, who looked almost… nervous. “Look, you both… rescued me.” Sekh could tell, admitting it stung deep. “Perhaps I owe you.”

Astarion inclined his head, studying Rolan for a moment. Then he moved around Sekh, slowly, movements fluid and cat-like as he slid between them, lifted Rolan’s arm and examined his wrist. “Just a taste,” Astarion said, glancing up at the tiefling. “I promise.”

Rolan nodded, and Sekh watched as Astarion lowered his head, bared those glorious fangs, and then sunk them deep into Rolan’s wrist. The wizard hissed, but didn’t pull away. Astarion held his arm firm, a shiver rolling through him as he got a taste.

Without thought Sekh reached out, stroked Astarion’s hair with his injured hand. He could feel the vampire relaxing with each second- and noticed that Rolan was relaxing after that initial bite as well. Sekh knew well what he was feeling- Astarion’s fangs no longer in his skin, his tongue pushing against the wounds, but letting Rolan’s pulse do the work of bleeding into his waiting mouth.

Sekh reached out with his other hand, tucked some of Rolan’s loose hair back behind his ear. “Okay?” he asked, and Rolan glanced at him, eyes almost glossy, this precious little flush rising on his freckled cheeks. Sekh moved his fingers higher, brushed them along one of Rolan’s horns. He felt the tiefling tremble, heard Astarion make a little noise.

The vampire lifted his head, sucking in an unneeded breath. Sekh pulled his touch from Rolan, turned to Astarion, tipped his chin up and studied those red eyes. Clearer than they had been, moments before.

Sekh moved his hand from Astarion’s hair, swiped his thumb along Astarion’s bloody lips. “Better?” he asked, as Astarion opened his mouth, sucked at Sekh’s thumb, unwilling to let a single drop of blood go to waste. The elf nodded, and Sekh smiled. “Good.” He turned his attention to Rolan, who was watching them, lips slightly parted, still flushed. “Thank you for trusting him,” Sekh whispered.

Rolan licked his lips, nodded- seemed at a loss for words. Sekh reached for his arm, glanced at the two small puncture wounds. Blood had welled up, but they didn’t seem to be bleeding much otherwise.

“Let me wrap this for you,” Sekh offered, “you might be a little sore for a few hours, but it will pass.” Sekh reached for the bandages, as Astarion took over holding Rolan’s wrist, lifting it more and dragging his tongue along the wounds, taking a final taste. Rolan let out a single, shaky breath, and Sekh caught Astarion’s eyes flicking up to him, this heat in the stare.

Sekh bandaged Rolan’s wrist, careful to keep his touch light. Once he was done, Rolan took it, cradled it to his chest. He looked shocked, confused, tired.

They were all tired.

It was wordless, the acknowledgement that they needed rest. Sekh murmured to Rolan that he had better still be here come morning- whatever sort of morning the Shadowlands offered- then he and Astarion left him, both feeling the day and now night weighing heavy on their bones.

They were within their camp, when Sekh finally asked, “What did he taste like?”

Because he was curious. Astarion had drunk from their enemies, but as far as Sekh was aware, he was still the only willing participant in Astarion’s feedings.

They paused, and Astarion smiled. “Jealous, darling?” Sekh shook his head. Truly, he wasn’t- and should he be? He had no claim over Astarion-

Gods, as much as he wanted to.

Yet he had been there, he’d felt as connected to Astarion in that moment as he did when the vampire fed from him.

Astarion hummed, seemed to be thinking. “He had almost a spice to him, like mulled wine.” Astarion licked his lips, and Sekh couldn’t help himself- he stepped closer, got his hands on the vampire’s waist, and pecked the corner of his mouth. It was soft, quick- but when Sekh went to pull back, Astarion turned, took his mouth in a proper kiss. His hands found Sekh’s back, pulled him closer, tongue flicking at his lips, before pushing past them, giving Sekh a taste of Rolan’s blood.

Sekh made a pleased little noise, and Astarion pulled back, smile all honest charm.

“Don’t worry,” he offered, eyes flicking to Sekh’s lips, before rising to meet his stare, “your’s is still my favorite. Sugared just enough to make me feel like I’m indulging in something sinful.” One hand slid between them, tipped Sekh’s chin, as Astarion whispered, “my little sweet blood,” before kissing him softly, one final time.

It was almost laughable, when Sekh realized just how close they had been to Moonrise. Why, Rolan very well might have made it there himself if he’d just kept running.

Staring across the walkway to the large steps, Sekh felt small, almost insignificant. Like the fortress housed some sort of ancient beast that could swallow him whole.

He could feel the anxious energy off his companions, as well. Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel- and gods, did he wish they were all here- but that would have drawn too much attention. Karlach, Wyll, and Gale had gone off in the opposite direction, once they had found the entrance to Moonrise. They wouldn’t be far, but this land was decaying so quickly that they all agreed, there had to be more that must be done other than take down Ketheric.

Sekh took a breath, flexed his hands- his burn healed, thanks to Isobel, his arm bandaged beneath his robe but barely aching now. And then he squared his shoulders and walked. The others fell in step, passing a few cultists, and then pausing at the steps, as a guard held his hand out.

Sekh’s feet had barely settled when he felt the pull on his tadpole. The thing squirmed happily at being reunited with others of its kin.

“Ah, True Soul,” the guard said, smiling. “What news?”

Oh shit. Sekh folded his arms, cocked his hip, attempted to look aloof. “Not much worth telling. What of inside?”

The guard’s smile grew. “See for yourself. Disciple Z’rell is inside, she will want to see you.” The guard placed a fist to his chest. “In Her name.”

“In Her name.” Sekh moved past them, his companions following inside. The fortress- castle- whatever it once was was huge, the ceiling so high inside that Sekh imagined they could nearly fit a Sussar tree within.

“We best not keep this Z’rell waiting,” Astarion whispered, and Sekh nodded. He took note of the guards stationed about, a few Goblins off to the left, and what looked more like pilgrims, to the right. Lae’zel stepped up to his side, eyes scanning the room as well.

And then, in a hushed whisper, she offered, “We could down all of them in three minutes.”

Sekh wanted to laugh. “That’s a bit optimistic.”

Lae’zel flashed a feral smile, charming, gorgeous even, and added, “I’m in the mood for blood.”

He imagined she was. The pent up rage at Vlaakith had to be near brimming inside her.

They paused at another set of stairs, and the guards motioned them on. They ascended, paused within, a group of Goblins standing before a well built half orc woman, a step above them on a dias.

“We did as we was told, general! We followed every order!” One of the goblins was pleading.

“The facts suggest otherwise.” The woman’s voice was a bellow, seemed to cause the room to hush. Sekh felt goosebumps rising on his flesh. In his mind, Syl purred, intrigued by her presence.

“You were ordered to retrieve the artifact- you failed to do so.”

“Us? No, no- it was Minthara!” Sekh fought the urge to bare his teeth. Minthara was long dead, at the Goblin camp. And these wretches must have been a part of the atrocities meant for the Grove.

“Enough!” Sekh suddenly felt dizzy, a wave of energy wracking his mind, urging his tadpole into subserviency. He bit his tongue, fighting off the control, felt his companions stirring around him as well.

“You failed to retrieve the artifact. You failed to protect your True Soul. You do not deserve to live.” The Goblins gawked, and Sekh held his tongue.

No, they didn’t deserve to live- but it wasn’t because of their failures. It was for what they had done, had wanted to do, to the Grove. He felt his anger sparking again, the same anger that had been broiling in his gut yesterday, felt nearly uncontrollable over the atrocities they were all living through.

“We are too close to the ending- and the new beginning.” Sekh’s eyes flicked to the voice, and he realized a man was settled back in what appeared to be a throne of sorts, legs spread, seeming unamused yet unbothered. He stood up, slowly, hulking in stature, and Sekh knew, without being told.

Ketheric.

“We can coddle failure no longer.” He paused next to Z’rell, and without glancing at her, said, “Kill them. Quickly.” His eyes scanned the room, then paused when they fell on Sekh. The drow swore those eyes were cracking his skull open, sifting invisible fingers through the folds of his brian, digging. “Or better yet, let our newest arrival decide.”

As he spoke, one of the Goblins screamed, shoving at the guards and grabbing his weapon. She hefted it into Ketheric, the blade digging into his chest and neck. The moment it broke armor Z’rell seemed to panic, saying something about her being a nonbeliever.

Sekh didn’t catch it. He was too busy staring as Ketheric pulled the weapon from his body and dropped it on the ground.

“Try. Again.” His voice boomed with cool, calculated rage. Amusement. And in horror, Sekh watched the Goblin lift the weapon and sink it deeper into his flesh.

Ketheric didn’t even flinch.

He pulled it free, tossed it aside, and fisted his hands, bringing them down into the Goblin’s skull. She crashed to the ground with bone crunching force, and he stilled her writhing with a final stomp of his heavy boot. The crack of her skull echoed in the now silent room.

After a final glance at the room, Ketheric turned, unbothered by his wound as he made his way out, brushing past Z’rell. She bowed her head in feared respect, before turning her attention to Sekh.

“You heard the General. Their fate is yours to decide- here in the seat of the Absolute’s power, your authority over them is complete. Report to me upstairs when you’re done” Z’rell gave the Goblins a disgusted look, before turning away well, leaving with enough force to usher in a storm.

Sekh glanced at the Goblins, cowering, and took a step towards them. He felt the others moving, and held out his arm, signaling them to pause. “You’re free to go,” he said, drawing his blade, “all you have to do is kill me.”

“Sekh,” Shadowheart whispered, but he ignored her warning.

“I won’t even use my magic,” he offered, turning his blade in the flickering torch light of the room. “Two against one.”

The Goblins glanced at each other, then wasted no time, rushing him. Sekh kept his word, didn’t pull at Syl’s shadows or muster up the necrotic magic that flowed through him- he simply stabbed the first one that reached him, his blade slicing clean into her mouth and out the back of her skull.

The other Goblin faltered, and Sekh kicked the first off his sword, left her sprawled and bleeding on the ground. He flicked his sword, blood splattering off it, then stalked towards the other.

“You deserve this to take longer,” he sneered, and gods it felt so good to be angry. “But lucky for you, I don’t have time for that.” He grasped his short sword with both hands, arched back, and brought the blade clean through the Goblin’s neck. A moment later and the Goblin’s severed head thunked on the floor, rolling a few paces away, as his body slumped, bleeding out profusely on the floor.

Sekh turned, could feel his companions watching him, their eyes boring into him with a fascinated sort of heat. He walked over, shoulders squared, and glanced at Lae’zel.

“I promise the next batch is all yours.” She smiled.

“You do amuse me, ra’stil.” She glanced at the two bodies. “And perhaps impress. Slightly.”

Sekh smiled. He’d take the compliment gladly. They were rare enough to come by.

“That was…” Astarion paused, eyes flicking along Sekh’s face- and then he reached out, gripped the drow’s chin and held him still, his tongue lapping up along his cheek, where blood had splattered. Astarion gave a little growl, before breathing in his ear, “arousing.”

And oh, the rage in Sekh was quickly replaced by another heat, a different fire that made his pulse race.

“I can hear your pulse from here,” Astarion whispered, before he pulled back, grinning wickedly. Sekh licked his lips, fought down the urge to reach for the vampire, to tangle his fingers in his hair and bite at his lips.

Not the time nor the place, he knew.

Shadowheart was pinching the bridge of her nose, shaking her head at the three of them. “The company I keep,” she muttered, before sighing. “Best find that Z’rell again.” She paused, and then quieter, added, “Jaheira was right then. Seems Ketheric is something altogether unnatural.”

They found Z’rell up the winding stairs, flanked by a very large Ogre.

For a brief moment, Sekh flashed back to interrupting a half ogre in the making, and gods, that felt like lifetimes ago. He wanted to laugh- but it felt wholly unholy to laugh in a place like Moonrise.

“Excellent timing, True Soul.” Sekh paused, realizing this woman had clocked him the moment he’d entered the room. Seemed not a detail got past the disciple.

They would have to be smart with this one.

“The Goblins- tell me how they suffered. No-” she paused, smiling an excited, ugly sort of smile. “Better yet- show me.”

Sekh felt a sudden ache, in his skull- not unlike the pressure to obey earlier, but this time there was no command, just a presence. Fingers once again parting his mind, shifting through the folds, invading. The phantom touches were quick, excited.

And when the memories were found, Sekh swore it was like a hot, putrid tongue, lapping them up greedily.

She nearly purred. “I see you like to handle underlings physically?” She smirked, a flicker in her eyes, darting over Sekh. He could feel her mind pulling his clothes away, undressing him with amusement.

It made his skin crawl.

Still, he fought down the bile in his throat, as she said, “So do I. And to do it all by yourself.” Another flick of those eyes. Sekh’s fingers twitched.

“Sounds like being your underling would be quite… enjoyable.” He inclined his head slightly, folded his arms, tried to mirror her flirtatious tone.

He didn’t need to see behind him to know Astarion was glaring. The man’s eyes were like bloody fire, and he knew the vampire well enough that the moment Z’rell had looked at him hungrily, he’d begun to plan exactly how he’d make her scream.

Honestly? It made Sekh rather giddy.

“So long as you don’t bore me.” She stepped closer, one, two paces- close enough that she could reach out and touch with ease. “Now, let’s see what else is in that delicious mind of yours.”

Sekh felt the vile invasion again, probing further into his mind. Syl bristled, feeling another presence. Sekh couldn’t spare a thought to hush her, reassure her- in a panicked moment he realized that Z’rell couldn’t see most of his thoughts, or she could see the inn, the survivors.

Without thought, Sekh distracted himself, focused on the first thing that came to mind- Astarion. Astarion with his fangs in Sekh’s neck, hands roaming over him desperately, pushing his bare thighs apart because he couldn’t wait once he had his teeth in Sekh.

Astarion pinning him to the ground, making him arch, scream his name until his throat was raw. And oh, the way Astarion tasted with Sekh’s own blood still fresh on his tongue.

“My my,” Z’rell chuckled, eyes opening, glancing at Astarion now. “Your lust for the neck pricker is delicious. I’d like to take a bite out of him myself.” That same leering stare roved over Astarion, and Sekh moved quickly, physically putting himself between Z’rell and Astarion.

“I don’t share,” he said, voice low, pulling from his chest. Z’rell chuckled again.

“Oh what a shame. Perhaps when you tire of him.” She waved her hand. “No matter. You’ll find soon enough you have no thoughts of him, only the Absolute. I’ve already stood in her presence, it was bliss. She gave me everything I wanted.”

There was an opportunity here- the chance to see what Z’rell was made of. What threat she might truly pose. Voice falling a bit husky, Sekh said, “Show me the power she gave you.”

And, oh, it worked by the way Z’rell’s eyes lit like fire. As if she was positively burning to show off the power she held.

“Why not? What’s the point in power if you don’t get to have a little fun?” She lifted her hands, light suddenly sparking between them, like thin, precious little threads. “She gave me the power to cut the thread of life with a thought.” The threads snapped, and Z’rell pressed her hands together, as the Ogre behind her crumpled to the floor, stone dead before the crash of her weight could reverberate within the room. “But I can caress, as well as cut.” Her words were honeyed but putrid, like she could devour Sekh within a single bite. “So stay on my good side, little one.”

Sekh bit his tongue, kept quiet, only gave a curt nod. Oh she was going to be fun to kill.

“And the best way to do that is to serve General Thorm. I have a mission for you.” Sekh could hear the dream visitor suddenly speaking in his mind, but he tried to tune them out. His connection with Syl went taut, and oh he knew how his patron loathed this strange figure in the prism, and their sudden intrusions into Sekh’s mind.

His mind belonged to the two of them, and intruders were not appreciated.

“There is a relic that General Thorm requires. He sent his most trusted advisor, disciple Balthazar, to retrieve it.” She said his name as if it was flavored with putrid rot. No love lost among the Truest of Souls, it seemed. “The relic is beneath the Thorm family mausoleum- that is where you will find Balthazar. We have lost contact with him… most unfortunate.” It didn’t sound unfortunate. “Go, aid him, and bring the relic home.” Sekh gave a single nod, and Z’rell added, “The shadows are deep and hungry- you will need a moon lantern to keep them at bay. Take one from Blathazar’s quarters.”

She paused, nodding towards a set of doors across the spacious room, the open hall.

“Return once you are done, and seek me out. Perhaps we can… discuss what desires you wish to voice to the Absolute.”

Z’rell waved her hand, a sudden dismissal, and Sekh was all too eager to leave. He turned, ushering his party away, across the hall into what looked to once have been a study. Massive bookcases lined the walls, old spines, some decorated in languages Sekh had never even seen, crammed onto every shelf.

The door shut behind them, and he exhaled, letting himself relax.

“Bloody disgusting thing,” Astarion muttered, as Shadowheart moved past them, examining the books quickly. Lae’zel looked at him, face stoic but eyes quizzical, and the vampire huffed. “She was two seconds from asking Sekh to bed on the damned floor.”

“Her taste in partners made it easy to deceive her,” Lae’zel pointed out, reaching out and placing a firm hand on Sekh’s shoulders. “He did well to play to it.”

Astarion huffed, but didn’t say another word- simply turned and stalked further into the room. Sekh let him go- knew there wasn’t anything he could say in that moment. He hadn’t loved it either, but it had helped.

Lae’zel was the first to the back of the room, opening another door and then pausing, a disgusted click of her tongue cutting through the silence that had fallen over the room. “Atrocious.”

The rest hurried over, peering past her, before Astarion ducked under her arm, walking into Balthazar’s quarters. The room reeked of stale blood, and Sekh could see body parts on nearly every surface. He wanted to gag.

Shadowheart did. “Shar preserve me.” Lae’zel gave her a look that screamed really, she couldn’t handle a bit of gore? But Sekh understood. This wasn’t a massacre, that might have been easier.

This was experimentation, with no regard for the subjects.

Astarion reached up, covered his nose. “It smells rotten,” he admitted, and Sekh couldn’t even fathom how strong it had to be for him. How had someone lived in here? “Let’s be quick, before one of us is sick.”

“That would improve the smell,” Shadowheart said, walking into the room regardless. Sekh filed in as well, glancing about. He headed for one of the tables, pushing aside a severed arm, the blood at its stump congealed and sticky. There were vials all over the table, tubes connected with smaller tubes- he’d seen plenty of things like this, in his childhood. His father leaving a mess of half drafted potions along his work desk.

He lifted one of the vials, daring to sniff it. The liquid inside was viscous, but sickly sweet, with a hint of rot. He tried to sort through what it could stem from, perhaps tongue of madness?

“Don’t you dare drink that,” Shadowheart said, walking up behind him. Sekh glanced back at her.

“I don’t have a death wish,” he teased, turning away from the table, “just curious what is in this.” He gave the vial a little swirl. Shadowheart took it, shrugged a shoulder, and then upended it, pouring the contents onto a small stained rug on the floor. The fabric blackened almost instantly, decaying before their eyes.

“Nothing good,” was all she said, setting the now empty vial down and walking away. And… okay, Sekh couldn’t argue that.

“What is this?” Sekh turned, found Lae’zel holding up a large staff, a lantern hanging from the curved edge. “Is this the… moon lantern Z’rell mentioned.”

“Must be.” Sekh walked over, reaching up to touch the lantern itself. It hummed with magic, and a familiar sort of feeling, in the air.

Fey.

And then, a small voice, “Oh my, oh yes! Please sir please, do release me from this mess!”

“It’s talking?” Lae’zel asked, as Shadowheart and Astarion crowded around them. Sekh unlatched the lantern, opening the small door, and a bolt of vibrant light shot out, nearly bouncing in the air before them.

“Freedom!” A little voice shrieked- and, gods, it was a pixie. Sekh had never seen one, only ever read about them.

Syl was bemused, active and watching through his blackened eye. The scent of another fey had drawn her.

“Were you lighting the lantern?” Sekh asked, and the splotch of pink nodded, her wild air floating round her as if she was suspended in water.

“Oh yes indeed, the lantern lights from the most malicious seed! When I hurt, it burns so bright.” She twirled around, gave a sigh at having the ability to stretch.

“Guess we won’t be using the lantern to get anywhere near the mausoleum,” Shadowheart said, and the pixie cocked her tiny head.

“You need a light in the dark? For freeing me, I can grant you a light so stark!” She flicked her wrists, and Sekh felt something warm brush against his face, like the faintest dust. “Consider it thanks for what you’ve done. Now off with you and off with me, before freedom is undone!”

She zipped away in the air, gone within the blink of an eye, leaving the four to stare at the empty space she had once taken up.

“An honest to gods pixie,” Astarion breathed, as Shadowheart glanced down, examined her hands.

“I think it blessed us,” she mused, “ but I don’t feel different.” Sekh shrugged a shoulder- he didn’t either. And while he knew fey were tricksters, he was inclined to believe the little thing.

The group made their way back down to the main floor of Moonrise. Sekh hadn’t yet seen any sort of prison- he presumed it would need to be beneath the fortress, but he hadn’t seen a stairwell yet either.

“This door?” Shadowheart asked, pointing towards one they hadn’t tried yet. The pilgrims and guards in the main hall didn’t seem bothered by their exploration- if anything, they were being quite ignored, which was a blessing.

Sekh shrugged a shoulder, and Shadowheart pushed it open, holding it for him as they all stepped through. The room they entered was spacious, walls stacked with crates, a few tables set off to the side.

And a woman, standing in front of one, muttering to herself. The door shut behind them and she turned, red eyes flickering over the group quickly, taking them all in.

And then a very practiced smile.

“Araj Oblodra,” she offered, voice airy, haunting. “Trader in blood and the sanguineous arts. It is a pleasure to stand before a True Soul.” She paused as the party neared, stopping themselves only a few paces away. “And your pale companion,” she added, eyes roving slowly over Astarion. After a moment, she glanced back at Sekh. “I’d like to offer my services, if you’re willing?”

Her family name sounded familiar, somewhere in the back of Sekh’s mind. He’d never been good with the aristocracy of drow culture, but he’d learned some as a child- as all children did. Frankly, he’d just never cared much.

As his mother had said, countless times- nothing but needy worms begging for a spider’s tit.

Oh gods it always made his father laugh.

He pushed the memories aside, deciding it didn’t matter much what family she was from. “Sanguineous arts?” he asked.

“The art of blood,” she said, sighing whimsically. “I’d like your blood, if you’re willing- that of a True Soul must be exquisite. With just a drop I’d brew you a most potent potion, bringing out the best qualities in your blood.” She paused, then added, “and that would be many, for a fellow child of Lolth.”

Sekh ground his teeth together. He had never had love for the Spider Queen or what she evoked in his people.

“The rest, I’d keep for myself. I promise, it’s just a little prick.”

Sekh considered it- they needed every advantage they could get, and it wasn’t as if he was unused to bleeding. But something about her was off, and he hadn’t forgotten the way she’d greeted- or looked at- Astarion.

“What do you want with my companion?” Sekh asked, choosing to change the subject. Araj turned her gaze to Astarion, eyes sparkling in almost awe at him.

“He’s a vampire, no? Or,” she took a step closer, “One of their spawn, at least.”

Astarion chuckled, “Oh, don’t worry, we’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

Her smile grew. “Oh, I’d prefer if you did. I assume he belongs to you?” She turned her attention back to Sekh.

Belongs? Astarion didn’t belong to anyone- he wasn’t a pet, wasn’t something to be owned and kept to parade around.

“Excuse me? He doesn’t belong to anyone,” Sekh remarked, frowning. “He’s his own person.”

Sekh didn’t see the way Astarion glimpsed at him.

Araj laughed, head tipped back. “Oh I’m sure he believes that.” Sekh’s frown deepened. “Do you have a name, spawn?”

“Astarion- but hold on.” Astarion lifted his hands, as if to wall her off from even touching him.

“Good.” She took another step closer, so close Sekh could smell the potions on her, a dizzying mix of bitters and sweets and organic horrors. “Now, Astarion-”

The way she said his name alone made Sekh’s gut twist, ache. He felt his muscles tensing- wanted to wrap his hand around her throat and choke her so she could never utter it again.

“-I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a little girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Astarion shook his head, looked at her in disbelief. “You want to be bitten?”

It wasn’t that crazy of a concept, at least to Sekh. After all, he happily accepted every bite from Astarion. No, it wasn’t the actual request, it was how it was being asked. Ordered.

As if Astarion never had a choice. As if someone would choose for him, his thoughts be damned.

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away? To dance on the edge between life and death?” Another sigh, dream like. “Yes, I want it.” She turned her attention from Astarion back to Sekh, as if he were Astarion’s keeper. “I’ll even compensate you. A potion of legendary power- unlike anything you’ve ever seen. It’s not for sale, but-” she glanced back at Astarion now, “it’s yours, if you bite me.”

“I will have to decline,” Astarion said quickly- very quickly.

Araj looked taken aback. “Excuse me? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity- and you’re squandering it.”

“I gave you my answer!” Astarion’s voice was slightly choked, as if the words were foreign on his tongue, hard to form.

Sighing, Araj turned back to Sekh. “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

“He said no.” Sekh moved between Araj and Astarion, positioning himself very close to her. “There’s nothing more to discuss.” She scowled, and Sekh reached out, gripped his chin, forced her to stare into his eyes. “You’ll respect his decision, or I’ll show just why I’m blessed as a True Soul.”

He released her chin, forcefully, and she gritted her teeth. Sekh felt the shadows along his face moving, and pulled slightly at Syl’s shadows, just to give them more life. Araj watched, before she took a step back. She mumbled pity, before turning away, going back to her work.

Sekh turned back to the group. “We’re done here,” he said, moving swiftly through them, heading for the door. He had the urge to hit something, and as much as Araj would be a lovely target, he wanted to keep that rage channeled to their purpose.

They needed to find the tieflings.

It took a bit more hunting, but eventually they found the stairs that led down to the dungeons. Sekh had let Shadowheart ask some of the other cultists the questions, feeling he might be too abrasive if he asked.

He was just pissed, reeling over Araj’s treatment of Astarion. And worse, the vampire had been near silent since. Sekh couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and as desperately as he wanted to know, this wasn’t the time or place to pry, to ask. He’d have to wait- and waiting felt like it was going to kill him.

He’d never claimed to be patient.

They nodded to a few of the guards as they descended, noting the number of cells lining the circular room. The first few were empty, but Sekh could see occupants, a few cells in. Occupants he recognized.

He tried not to run, kept his walk calm and pointed, pausing at the cell where Cal and Lia were right at the bars. Lia was scowling, a hellfire look in her eyes. “What? Come to preach about your precious Absolute-”

She paused, recognition dawning.

“Gods above,” she breathed, and Sekh smiled, couldn’t help it.

“Hi stranger,” he offered, “We’re here to bust you out.” Lia grabbed at the bars, Cal leaning into her shoulder.

“The others?” he asked quietly.

“Safe,” Sekh said, and then added, “your brother too.”

“Gods I knew he was too stubborn to die.” Lia’s voice dropped lower, quieter. “The Gnomes a few cells down were planning something. Maybe they can make it easier.”

Sekh reached up, covered her hand on the bars, as he heard commotion behind him, Shadowheart’s voice speaking with a guard. “Stay ready,” he said, squeezing her hand, before he turned, chin high, to face a guard.

“You are not to speak with the prisoners,” the man said, throaty and annoyed. “Warden’s orders.”

“I speak with whoever I wish.” Sekh folded his arms, lifted his chin higher. “I’m blessed to be a True Soul. They would be so lucky as to have my attention.”

The man growled, before he turned his head, spit on the ground. “Filthy fucking drow,” he muttered, shoving past Sekh, his shoulder pushing Sekh enough that he was forced to take a step back. “Take it up with the warden!”

The man continued his patrol, and Sekh rolled his neck, taking a single, deep breath. He was used to being called filthy- in fact, that was one of the far nicer insults he got as a drow- but even here, where it seemed the drow were respected at first glance?

And, again- he damned Lolth for all she had ever done to his people.

“The warden may be a good place to start,” Shadowheart said, breaking his thoughts. “They would have keys, wouldn’t they?” Sekh nodded, and when Shadowheart began walking towards a pathway to the larger, closed-off center of the room, he followed a step behind- falling in step with Astarion.

Astarion, who glanced at him and just…stared. Stared as if he was seeing Sekh for the first time.

“Are you alright?” Sekh asked, concerned, but he never got an answer. Astarion turned those hellfire eyes away, and they were stepping onto the pathway to the warden.

They needed to focus. They needed a plan.

Sekh was fairly sure the only plan any of them had was kill first and don’t bother with questions.

The warden was a tiefling woman with firm shoulders and a dour face. She didn’t seem shocked to have anyone walking into what could be her office per say, but she didn’t look pleased either.

She eyed Sekh, as Shadowheart shut the door. “Hmm, you spark of the familiar. Do I know you, True Soul?” She paused, before shaking her head slightly. “No, perhaps not. Your face is rather bland.”

Sekh bit back a laugh. Bland was the last word that he had ever expected to hear regarding his face. Unsettling? Sure. But bland?

She waved him off. “Regardless- I am the Warden, I assume you have something important you need if you’re here to bother me. I’m quite busy.”

She didn’t look busy. There was a bottle of wine open on a desk across the room.

“I would have expected the Warden to have a more exciting face herself,” Sekh offered, and heard Shadowheart snort a laugh behind him, muffling it quickly by covering her mouth.

The Warden frowned. “I answer directly to Disciple Balthazar himself. You would do well to show some respect, drow.”

Sekh sighed. “Oh, to the hells with this.” He glanced at Lae’zel. “I said the next one was yours.”

The githyanki didn’t hesitate. She grinned, drawing her sword and charging at the warden before the tiefling could react. She skewered the sword right through her gut, then planted her boot firmly on the woman’s chest and shoved, forcing her off the sword, falling to her knees. The Warden clutched at her stomach, looked ready to shout- but Lae’zel never gave her the opportunity.

Her sword shoved through the tiefling’s mouth, and the warden was dead before she could properly choke on her own blood.

“Thank you,” Lae’zel said, freeing her sword and turning to Sekh, “perhaps the next we can share.”

“Oh bloody hells, what have you two done?” Shadowheart looked exasperated, glancing from Lae’zel, to the dead warden, to Sekh, who had given her the kill order. “So much for a stealth rescue.”

“We open the cells and clear a path,” Lae’zel offered, “unless you have a better plan?”

Shadowheart was silent. Truth be told, Sekh knew there had never been a plan. Just to find the tieflings, get as much information as possible, and get out. They didn’t need safe passage back into Moonrise, after all. The next time they returned, it would be for Ketheric’s head.

Shadowheart pointed to the wall, where a number of heavy levers were built in. “I imagine those open the cells.” She sighed. “I take it we’ll be flipping them all and then getting our hands dirty.”

Sekh nodded. Lae’zel didn’t argue, and he glanced at Astarion, expecting some sort of sass or excitement- but the elf was still silent. He was just looking at Sekh again.

Sekh told himself again, this wasn’t the time. He’d find Astarion after the chaos, he’d figure this out. It had to wait.

He didn’t want it to.

“Lae’zel, outside to brace for the guards. I’m coming with you- Shadowheart, twenty seconds and then flip them. Astarion,” Sekh paused, just saying the man’s name feeling like he was opening a floodgate. He forced himself on, “Middle ground. Cover Shadowheart in case any guards come for her- but then we need you.” The vampire nodded- and it was enough acknowledgement. Sekh turned and followed Lae’zel out, counting in his head. He paused halfway to the tieflings’ cell, as Lae’zel continued, to put herself between them and any guards that could round the corner.

And, right on time, there was a round of clicks, and then the old metal was creaking, groaning as the gates opened slowly. The tieflings were out before the gate was fully open, followed by a group of deep gnomes, right next to Sekh. They looked at him, unbelieving, and he forced a quick smile.

“Hope you can run fast,” he said, “whatever you hear, don’t stop.” They nodded- the leader sporting a cocky smirk, and then the sound of Lae’zels sword clanging against metal birthed chaos.

Guards rounded the corner, and Sekh drew his sword, sending a blast of shadows towards one. He heard footsteps behind him and whipped around, sword poised- but Astarion was faster, leaping onto the guard that was charging at Sekh. He stabbed a dagger into his belly, then used it as support as he tore into his throat with his teeth.

Fighting with all his assets.

Sekh turned again, running towards Lae’zel. It felt like chaos, the tieflings dodging hits, Sekh and Lae’zel trying to intercept them all, while Astarion and Shadowheart kept their backs safe. Sekh even saw Lia deliver a rather solid punch to a guard’s face, before she grabbed at his short sword, stabbing him in the chest with it.

“Hold onto that!” Sekh yelled over the din, and she only grinned. He turned his attention back to Lae’zel, as she cut down another guard, blood spraying across her armor, speckling her hair.

And then, as the body crumpled to the floor- silence. Sekh relaxed slightly, as Lae’zel took a few steps ahead of the group.

“Clear,” she yelled, and Sekh ushered the tieflings and gnomes forward. They couldn’t leave out the stairs that the companions had entered through- there was no way they were fighting their way out of Moonrise through the front door.

But there was a set of large doors to the left- and if Sekh had calculated correctly, they must open up to the bordering water- and hopefully, docks.

He pointed, and Astarion moved up to the doors, grabbing one. Shadowheart grabbed the other, and after a silent nod between them, they shouldered the heavy wood open. Lae’zel burst out first- and gods, it was good she did, before another guard let loose an arrow that she just managed to duck under.

Anyone else, it would have been embedded in their eye.

Lae’zel ran for the archer, while the tieflings and gnomes flooded out. Sekh glanced around, noting more guards than they expected. They must have just missed something happening on the docks, to their misfortune.

They couldn’t risk the tieflings and gnomes being here, if more guards came- and it seemed like they were trying to raise the alarm. They’d never fight their way out with civilians.

Sekh scanned the area, paused when he noticed an uneven outstretch of rock, close to the fortress’s edge. The gap was small, jumpable.

It led directly into the shadows.

Sekh turned to Shadowheart and Astarion. “I need you both to guide them through the shadows,” he said quickly. “There’s a jut of rock, just over there- it’s jumpable. They can make it.”

“You want us to leave?” Astarion finally spoke, eyes boring into Sekh.

“They won’t make it back to Last Light alone. And we can’t risk the cultists following. Lae’zel and I can handle them.” He paused, then added, “they will die if you don’t guide them. The shadows will devour them.”

And it was true. Shadowheart had Shar’s adoration and the pixie’s blessing- the shadows wouldn’t touch her. But one wasn’t enough, not for a group this size. With Astarion there, there might be enough magic to shield them long enough to get back to Last Light.

Shadowheart nodded, mouth set in a firm line. She understood, without hearing the details. Sekh was ever grateful for it.

“I am not leaving you,” Astarion said, even as Shadowheart grabbed his arm, pulling him away as the tieflings and gnomes made for the makeshift escape route. “Sekh’met.”

“Go!” Sekh turned then, clutched his sword tightly, and ran to meet Lae’zel. He didn’t look back. He trusted Shadowheart would make sure Astarion went with her.

He trusted that Astarion would go, because it was the right thing to do- and even if the vampire liked to act as if he didn’t care for anyone but himself- even if he’d complained about saving the tieflings the first time around- Sekh knew it was at least partially a lie.

Plus, it was what Sekh wanted. He hoped Astarion would honor that.

Sekh braced himself next to Lae’zel, dodging another flying arrow. “Are they safe?” she asked, and he nodded. She grinned something fierce and wicked. “Good. Let’s have some fun, ra’sil.”

Oh, he wouldn’t argue that. At least if they died, they’d die free of the damn rage they both were harboring, like a festering ache in their guts.

When they stumbled into Last Light next, it was bloodied but alive. Sekh was pleased that most of the blood wasn’t theirs at least. Mostly thanks to Lae’zel if he was honest- she had moved like a gods damnned storm, cutting down cultists as if her sword was simply cutting through air.

Sekh didn’t need to ask her if each cultist, in her mind, embodied Vlaakith and all the years, devotion, pain Lae’zel had given to her. He hoped it had been cathartic, even if it didn’t solve her dilemma, or make the hurt simply dissipate.

He knew it had been quite nice to cut loose, to pull on Syl’s power without restraint. Each death felt like retribution, for just a moment of agony his companions, his friends, his new family were feeling.

The Harpers at the barricade rushed them, ushering them in, wanting more details about Moonrise, about what they had seen, and oh what damage had they caused?

“The others,” Sekh asked, as Lae’zel broke down how she had cut through a cultist’s spine while cutting the air flow of another’s off with her boot to a few eager cultists.

“Inside,” the Harper confirmed, and Sekh felt his chest nearly bursting. “It’s been chaotic since their return- you should go inside. I believe your… companions may be only minutes from attempting a rescue for you two.”

“Rescue?” Lae’zel asked, as the younger Harpers stared at her in awe, adoration- and a good dose of fear. “Tsk’va, we are not hatchlings in need of aid.” Sekh laughed, before he grasped her hand.

“We’d better hurry before we have to rescue them,” he said, pulling her towards the Inn. Lae’zel positively beamed over the prospect.

The moment they walked in the chaos erupted further. The gnomes and tieflings were all about, Harpers rushing around, to and from Jaheira- and their companions looking ready to bring hellfire down on the fortress.

Shadowheart saw them first. She dropped her mace, running over so fast she nearly tripped over her own boots. She threw both her arms around them, pulling Sekh slightly off balance and Lae’zel so far off balance that the githyanki fell completely into Shadowheart’s hold.

“Hi,” Sekh managed, feeling choked. Lae’zel was squirming, trying to push away from Shadowheart- but her hold was iron.

“I hate you both,” Shadowheaet said- and Sekh smiled. Yeah, he loved her too.

He did, didn’t he? Loved her, Lae’zel- all of them. That’s what the rage was, building in him, at their agony? It was beyond caring- it was bone deep, rooted in his marrow now.

Shadowheart let them go, ushering them further inside. Lae’zel was swallowed up quickly, which gave Sekh time to move further into the inn, towards the back.

He found Astarion there, paler than usual, looking like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. His fingers were twitching, and Sekh was sure there were more knives strapped to his body than he had ever seen.

“You’re alive!” It was Lia who saw him first. She grinned, reaching out and grabbing his arm, pulling him into the circle. Rolan and Astarion turned at her voice, both staring burning holes into Sekh.

“Gods,” Rolan breathed, shoulders relaxing. “The way Shadowheart and Astarion told it, we assumed you dead under an army of cultists.”

“It… wasn’t that many,” Sekh said, even as he looked at Astarion. Astarion, looking at him with large, soft eyes, this look of awe and disbelief about him. As if he couldn’t believe Sekh was standing there, in front of him. Whole. Alive.

“Oh it was,” Lia said, “I do remember trying to count as I was running for my life. Which, by the way- thank you.” She reached up, cupped Sekh’s cheeks and forced him to look at her, tearing his gaze away from Astarion, before she leaned in, smacking a playful kiss right on his mouth.

Sekh nearly laughed into it, as she pulled back. And then Cal was laughing as well, placing one on his cheek. It made the drow feel giddy, inside.

“Enough, both of you,” Rolan said, walking over and trying to pry his siblings away from Sekh. “Let the man breathe.” Lia held tighter, and Cal even hooked an arm around Sekh’s waist, daring Rolan to remove them himself.

Sekh felt like he was spinning, drowning in the affection- but as much as he wanted to wade in it for an eternity, he needed-

Astarion. The man slipped past Rolan, and the moment he did Cal and Lia released Sekh. Without question.

“You’re alive,” Astarion whispered, and Sekh flashed a soft, affectionate smile.

“Of course I am.” Sekh inclined his head slightly, reached out with one hand, brushed it along Astarion’s side, over the buckles of the drow armor he’d been wearing since the Underdark. It was fitting on him- and Sekh should probably tell him, one of these days.

He meant to jest that he couldn’t leave Astarion to have all of the fun bringing down the cult without him. That he couldn’t leave this mess of a party without supervision- even if he himself was sure he needed supervision more than some of them-

But what he said was, “I wouldn’t leave you.”

And he knew it was what he meant.

Astarion moved closer, and Sekh wasn’t sure if the man was going to sob, or scream, or kiss him- but he never found out, as Gale was suddenly breaking them up, slapping Sekh on the back and saying he wanted to hear all of the riveting details from he and Lae’zel.

Sekh loved the wizard, but gods did he have the worst timing.

It felt like half the night- or what felt like night, perhaps- was over by the time Sekh was able to strip of his bloodied robes and clean up. Camp was buzzing with energy despite that everyone needed rest, and Sekh presumed they would be running on adrenaline, come morning when they set off to find the Thorm family museum.

As exhausted as he was, though, Sekh wasn’t going to get any rest until he spoke with Astarion. The vampire’s demeanor at Moonrise- and after- just hadn’t been right. For him to be silent, something had to be wrong.

“Sekh’met.” Sekh turned at the sound of his name, Astarion standing outside his own tent, looking wholly- uncomfortable. “Can we talk?”

Sekh walked over, noticed the almost nervous tick to the vampire’s movements, the near sadness to his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Astarion sighed, “Oh, I’m perfectly awful.” Alarmed, Sekh moved to speak, but Astarion continued. “I… wanted to thank you.” Sekh pinched his lips shut, confused now. For what? What had he done? His confusion must have been evident, because Astarion added, “For what you said, while I was in front of that vile drow.” Astarion paused, closed his eyes for a moment, seemed to be composing himself. “I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing- it never mattered.”

Sekh swore there was something cracking, fissuring along Astarion then- in his eyes, in his voice, in his very being.

“You could have asked me to do the same- to throw myself at her, what I wanted be damned.” Astarion paused, and then, in a voice that was soft, small, awe struck and broken, added, “But you didn’t. And I’m grateful.”

Sekh stepped closer, wanting to envelope Astarion then, take him into his arms and shield him. Damn the world for everything it had ever done to him that he was grateful for being allowed to say no. “I don’t want you to ever do anything you don’t want to,” Sekh said, “you make your own choices now.”

Astarion gave a sad, little smile. “It’s a novel concept, I’ll admit. And… a little intimidating. It would have been so easy to bite her. A moment of disgust, to force myself through,” he was swaying with his words, now, unable to be still, “And then I could have carried on, just as before.”

Sekh frowned. His body ached, radiating from his chest, the spaces between his ribs where he desperately wanted to tuck this man away. “That would have been wrong, Astarion.” Sekh swallowed then, thickly, hating that he had to ask- “Was that what it was, with me?”

Astarion’s eyes went wide, and he lifted his hand, as if he wanted to reach out, touch Sekh- but then it dropped. As if he simply couldn’t. “No. You were…” Astarion sighed. “I needed protection, no one trusts a vampire- and with very good reason. I needed someone on my side- and, well,” Astarion smiled, and it was honest, “seducing you was easy, frankly.”

Sekh bit back a chuckle, but he knew Astarion heard it. True, he hadn’t made it hard on the vampire at all.

“So imagine how stupid I felt when I…started to genuinely feel something for you.” The drow felt his heart rate suddenly rise, the organ beating frantically in its cage, wanting to claw its way up his throat. He felt a tremble, in his fingertips, and had to fist his hands to steady them. “Trust me, I wasn’t thrilled. My nice, little plan… fell apart.” Astarion sighed again, closed his eyes for just a moment. And when they next opened, when they looked at Sekh-

Gods, there was so much there. So much fear, at being stark open, exposed and vulnerable. As if a single breath would be all it took to fully break Astarion, all over again.

“Astarion,” Sekh said, his voice catching. “I care about you.”

I am wholly, selfishly, fatally in love with you.

The vampire swallowed a lump in his throat, his voice a raspy whisper. “Really?” He sounded desperate to believe it- but terrified to, as well.

Sekh stepped closer, reached out for Astarion. He slid his arms around him, grasped at his back, and held tight. For a moment, Astarion was rigid, tense, before he melted against the drow, his arms winding around Sekh, hands clutching at the back of his shirt. Astarion dipped his head, pressed his face into Sekh’s neck, and Sekh rocked gently, squeezing him tighter.

He wanted to pull the man into him, into his sinew and bone, protect him, home him.

Sekh turned his head, kissed Astarion’s curls, felt the elf tremble in his hold. And in all these years, these centuries- Sekh wondered if anyone truly had held him, for just the sake of his comfort.

Did he even remember what that was like?

Sekh leaned back a little, and Astarion gripped his shirt tighter. “Don’t,” he whispered, his voice so raw, shattered, “please.” Sekh kissed his curls again.

“I’ll hold you until the sun burns out, Starshine.” Astarion trembled again, and Sekh squeezed tighter, for a moment. “And even then, I won’t stop.”

Astarion pressed tighter to his neck, drank in the scent of his skin, the heat. And Sekh, he found calmness in the cool touch, the way Astarion could quell a fire in him, as much as he could stoke one.

Slowly, the vampire loosened his hold, and Sekh leaned back, watching Astarion lift his eyes, those soft eyes moving to meet his stare. “You,” Astarion whispered, his voice breaking, “you are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Sekh smiled softly, felt Astarion’s hand seek out his own. Sekh took it, tangled their fingers together, rubbed his thumb along Astarion’s cool skin.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” Astarion admitted, “I… I don’t know how to do this.” Sekh squeezed his hand, and Astarion’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles. “I don’t know what comes next. But this?” This time Astarion squeezed his hand, moved closer, head inclined, a breath away from a kiss, “This is nice.”

Sekh leaned in, pressed his lips not to the vampire’s own, but the bridge of his nose. Astarion made a pained sound, in the back of his throat, and Sekh’s free hand found the curve of his waist, held him there. “Whatever comes next,” Sekh offered, “I’ll be there.”

The words he’d spoken to Astarion earlier echoed in his skull, and Sekh closed his eyes, adding,

“I would never leave you, Starshine.”

They retreated to Sekh’s tent, in an attempt to get some rest before the figurative dawn broke. Sekh had been more than happy to have the vampire crawl into his bed roll with him, curl up into the crook of his arm, cheek laying on his bare chest. Softly, Sekh danced his fingers along Astaron’s back, could just feel the ridges of his scars through his shirt.

Sekh’s mind was still reeling, heart thudding loudly in his chest. A part of him was sure he was dreaming, that he must have died at Moonrise, and the gods were both gentle and cruel enough to give him this facade of bliss.

“Your heart is pounding,” Astarion mused, not lifting his head. He was lazily tracing his fingers along Sekh’s belly, beneath their blanket. Neither of them seemed to be able to stop touching, as softly as possible.

Sekh smiled, didn’t lift his head. “Just wondering if I died at Moonrise.” Astarion scoffed, pressed his mouth in a lazy kiss against Sekh’s chest. “If you’re even real.”

“I assure you, darling, I am quite real.” Astarion pushed himself up slightly, moved his mouth to Sekh’s neck, dragged his fangs against Sekh’s pulse. Sekh tipped his head back further, eyes falling shut as a soft moan escaped him, the promise of Astarion’s fangs always able to bring his entire body to life.

Astarion paused then, and Sekh opened his eyes when he felt the vampire leave him, sit up. He looked nervous, hands suddenly knitting together in his lap, fingers tapping against each other. Sekh sat up himself, pushed his now free hair away from his face. “Astarion?”

“I think,” he offered, “that I… I don’t know how to say this.” He sighed, reached up, raked a nervous hand through his curls. They were slowly beginning to fall into his face. “I don’t want you to think of me, in terms of sex.” Sekh inclined his head, and Astarion was quick to add, “at least, not right now. I think I need some time…”

Sekh smiled then, reached out for the hand messing with the elf’s hair. He tangled their fingers together, pulled it to his mouth and kissed Astarion’s knuckles. “Astarion,” he said again, softly, affectionately, “You can have eternity if you need it.”

The elf’s eyes were wide, large, soft, before he smiled. “Darling, eternity would kill me.” He shifted closer. “I wanted you, you know. Every time. Even if this started as some simple little plan- you were still, are still…” Astarion licked his lips, swallowed, seemed almost unsure how to speak. “I think you push me to madness.” Sekh kissed the elf’s knuckles again, and Astarion’s eyelids fluttered.

“You tell me what is okay, and what isn’t,” Sekh whispered, turning Astarion’s hand, kissing his wrist. He dragged his fingertips along the veins in his arm, pressed his mouth next to the crook of his elbow, the overly soft skin there. Astarion’s breath caught.

Sekh released his arm, got on his knees and cupped Astarion’s face, stroked his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and Astarion’s eyes seemed to be starbursts, sparking embers.

“How could I say no?” he asked, and Sekh dragged a thumb along his lower lip.

“Easily,” he pointed out, “you just say no. That’s it.” Astarion shook his head gently.

“I don’t want to say no,” he admitted, and Sekh leaned in, placed a very gentle kiss to his lips. It was brief, but it left Astarion smiling softly.

“Again,” he whispered, and Sekh laughed, pressing a smiling kiss to his lips. Astarion reached out, got his arms around Sekh’s neck, pushed his weight against him until they were tumbling back down to the bedroll. Sekh was laughing, breathy, as the vampire kissed him eagerly yet innocently, pecks and quick slides of his mouth over and over and over again.

“Astarion,” Sekh chuckled, as the vampire got the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jawline. The vampire grinned, kissed his neck, the hollow of his throat. Sekh positively grinned, rolling them over, pinning the elf beneath him. He pressed little butterfly kisses along his jaw, felt Astarion squirming beneath him-

And then laughing. Honest to the gods laughter that seemed to rip up from his belly, as he tipped his head back. Sekh only grinned further, his cheeks aching, as he kissed Astarion’s cheeks, before gently gripping the flesh between his teeth, giving a very sorry attempt at a playful growl.

“You are utterly ridiculous,” Astarion managed, the laughter nearly causing tears to brim at the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, I am well aware.” Sekh sat up, stradling Astarion, as he reached out, toyed with his hair. “Your hair is cute like this.”

Astarion huffed, seemed to pout, as Sekh brushed some of it away from one of his eyes.

“And you’re cute when you pretend to be mad,” he added. Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Darling, a vampire shouldn’t be… cute.” He said the word as if he wanted it to taste disgusting on his tongue, but it was possibly the saddest attempt at a lie Sekh had ever seen from the man. He was enjoying this. “We are beautiful and eternally young. Terror inducing yet heart stopping.”

“Mhm.” Sekh reached out, traced a line along his cheek. “Doesn’t change the fact that you are in fact cute. The creases by your eyes when you smile, the lines along your lips, the way your hair curls around your ears…” Astarion huffed, louder, overly dramatic- but his cheeks were flushed, ever so slightly. He hadn’t fed nearly enough as of late to get a full blush, but Sekh’s heart still soared over the bit of color.

He slid his fingers towards one of Astarion’s ears, thumb rubbing up along it.

“Your ears are precious when you blush,” Sekh added, before Astarion gasped, his hips bucking slightly against Sekh’s weight.

Sekh paused, pulled his hand back- he hadn’t meant to- he didn’t think that was a spot that might arouse the elf-

“Sorry,” Sekh said, “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t- don’t apologize,” Astarion managed, taking a breath and calming himself. He bit his lip, fangs pushing against the soft skin. “You can…” he paused, cleared his throat, added in a whisper, “tease me.” Sekh quirked a brow, and Astarion hastily added, “Just don’t expect-”

“For it to lead somewhere?” Sekh asked. “Astarion, I don’t expect anything from you. But…” he reached back out, stroked along Astarion’s ear, watched the vampire bite his lip again. “I won’t say no to seeing you squirm a little- so long as that is what you want.”

“Wicked thing,” Astarion breathed, as Sekh stroked along his ear one last time, before climbing off him, wrapping himself around the vampire as he tried to tug the blanket back over them.

Sekh wouldn’t deny the accusation. “Now, if we don’t try and get some rest,” the drow said, “we’ll end up getting ourselves killed come morning.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Astarion’s neck, and the vampires covered his hand, on Astarion’s belly, squeezing. “Can you rest like this?”

Sekh knew he could fall into his trance like this- but he also knew it wasn’t as easy for all elves.

“I think so,” Astarion admitted, and Sekh could feel him relaxing in his arms. “Even if I can’t,” he added, quieter, “don’t you dare move.”

Sekh smiled, and held Astarion tighter.

Sekh roused from his trance as he heard commotion outside- the sounds of camp coming to life. He sighed, nestled himself into Astarion’s hair, breathed him in as the vampire shifted in his hold. Neither had moved much- but Sekh was sure they had been lucky to get about three hours of rest, if that.

It was worth it.

“Astarion,” he whispered, and the elf made a displeased little noise, shifting about. Sekh kissed the back of his neck softly. “I know you can hear me.”

“I am choosing to not hear you,” Astarion muttered, “I may not look like I need my beauty rest, but I do.”

Sekh chuckled, sitting up, and Astarion flopped onto his back, looking up at him in tired displeasure that he would dare move. If it had been up to Sekh, he wouldn’t- but there was a shadow curse to lift, an immortal elf to slay-

And, well, still some very unwelcome parasites in their heads.

The drow stood up, pulling his shirt on, as Astarion sat up, rubbed at one of his eyes. Sekh hunted down the elf’s pants, the two sleeping oppositely half undressed- which was almost comical to Sekh. When Astarion didn’t move, Sekh tossed them onto him, so they landed along his shoulder and chest.

Astarion bared his teeth, showing his fangs- but with his eyes still soft and heavy from sleep, and his hair falling over his forehead, into his eyes in loose, lazy curls- well, he was anything but intimidating.

“Terrifying,” Sekh said, tucking the front of his shirt into his pants.

“And don’t you ever forget, darling,” Astarion said, ignoring the thick sarcasm in Sekh’s voice. He stood up, attempting to dress, as Sekh left the tent, giving the vampire a little more space. Camp was alive, most of their companions half in their armor at least.

Sekh sighed, felt like he needed something to wake him up. Gale walked by with a small mug- much smaller than the tankards that had been out around the bar- and Sekh rushed over, following the scent of nuts and bitterness.

“Please tell me there is coffee,” he said, almost bouncing at the prospect. Gale turned, seemed to have a cheery good morning on his lips- but paused, frowning at the dark circles under Sekh’s eyes.

“By Mystra’s mantel, did you rest at all?” he asked. Sekh started to say yes, he had, even if a little- but then Astarion was bursting from his tent, looking around and actively calling his name as if it was a war crime that Sekh had stepped away for a minute.

Gale followed the voice, before he turned to Sekh, quirking a brow. His little smirk said more than words ever could.

And for once, it wasn’t what the wizard was thinking.

Before Sekh could correct him, Astarion stalked over, sliding his arms around Sekh’s waist and resting his chin directly on his shoulder. Gale bit back a laugh. “Astarion, you look just as exhausted as our fearless leader, here.” Gale sipped his coffee, and Sekh realized he would in fact take on a horde of undead for just a touch of caffeine.

That had been one of the worst things about this whole ordeal- aside, of course, of the risk of turning into a Mind Flayer- the lack of coffee. It seemed not everyone felt it was a necessity.

“Jealous?” Astarion asked, voice dropping low, and that had Gale flushing a little. Before the wizard could speak though, Karlach yelled from across camp-

“Does this mean we can stop pretending we don’t know?” Sekh jerked his head up, looked over at her- and Shadowheart was standing next to her, the biggest grin on her face.

Oh.

Astarion hummed, before he let go of Sekh, grabbed him by the waist and spun him around. Sekh stumbled a little- but Astarion held him tight, pulling him in and kissing him with enough force to steal his breath.

Well, then. That was the answer, Sekh supposed.

Karlach cheered, as Gale muttered something about it being too early for this, before he left. Sekh barely noticed though, his eyelids fluttering as he reached up, clutched at Astarion’s shirt, returned the kiss in kind. When the vampire pulled back, Sekh chased him, managed to drag the kiss out for another moment or two.

“Secret’s out, pet,” Astarion teased, and Sekh only smiled.

Good. He had no desire to ever hide that this man had chosen him for even a moment of his attention and affection.

Sekh was very pleased that it seemed the Harpers- and the Flaming Fists that remained- were as interested in coffee as a normal person should be. And while it was not nearly sweet enough, he almost didn’t care, letting the bitter liquid scald his throat as he sat back at the bar, attempting to wake up properly. He had precious little time before Jaheira would require his attention- they had to plan. Who was going to look for the relic- who was going to brace to move on Moonrise-

“Well you look awful.” Sekh turned, and Lia was grinning at him. She walked over, resting her arms on his shoulders playfully. Cal was a step back, both looking like they had slept like the dead and were alive again.

Sekh imagined sleeping at Moonrise hadn’t been comfortable.

“Leave him be Lia,” Rolan said, as he descended the stairs across the room and caught sight of them. Lia huffed, but pushed off Sekh.

“Fine, fine- keep him all to yourself Rolan.” The other tiefling flushed, a rather cute rouge creeping up along his freckled cheeks. “Where is your pretty half?” Lia asked. “He needs a proper thank you for all he did in making sure those shadows didn’t eat us alive.”

Sekh paused, mug half way to his mouth. He actually didn’t know where Astarion had gone. They’d come in together, and then Jaheira had blessed Sekh with coffee, and he’d been distracted-

As if being summoned, Astarion appeared, arms full-

With the resident cat?

“I heard pretty half,” he said, sliding up to Sekh and leaning his lower back against the bar. The cat seemed shockingly content, considering how it had acted towards Sekh previously.

Lia smiled and the cat must have known something was amiss, as he squirmed free of Astarion’s hold, choosing to sit on the bar and watch with large, rapt eyes as Lia threw her arms around Astarion, smacking a kiss on his cheek.

“We never got to thank you properly,” she said. Sekh set his mug down, was ready to gently guide the well meaning tiefling off Astarion- but the elf smiled, leaned his head against hers.

“Proper thank you kisses,” he teased, “are on the mouth, darling.”

Lia waved him off, glancing at Sekh. “I see why you like him. He thinks he’s smooth.” Astarion tutted, and Sekh was relieved when Rolan ushered his siblings away, told them to leave the two be.

Sekh picked his mug back up, took another large drink, feeling his pulse slowly coming to life. When he set his mug back down, Astarion leaned in, gripped his chin and pecked his lips sweetly- before making an unamused face.

“That wretched brew is making you bitter,” he complained, absentmindedly reaching out to pet the cat.

“Sugar seems to be a luxury here,” Sekh pointed out, “I promise I’m normally very sweet.” He finished off the mug, before reaching his hand out towards the cat-

Who promptly hissed at him. Sekh sighed, dropped his hand, and Astarion chuckled. “He won’t leave me be,” Astarion added- and Sekh wondered if their camp had room for another animal, when this was all done. The way the cat seemed eager to be attached to Astarion, he wasn’t sure it’d even matter. Sekh only shook his head, finishing the rest of the coffee and setting the mug aside.

“Also,” Astarion said, still petting the cat, as Sekh noticed Rolan making his way back over, now free of his siblings. “You don’t need to remind me how sweet you are, sweet blood. Your taste is engrained in my memory.”

His eyes glanced at Sekh, and Sekh felt a fire roaring in his gut. He must have flushed, because Rolan paused once he was only a step away, before he glanced away, looking embarrassed, as if he had interrupted something. Sekh cleared his throat, as Astarion stopped showering the cat in affection, instead turning his attention to Rolan, the almost cheeriness that had been about him dissipating.

“I want to ask a favor of you,” the vampire said, looking directly as Rolan. Rolan quirked a brow, and Astarion cleared his throat. “It’s a delicate matter,” he said, voice low, almost wavering. “But you read Infernal, correct?” Rolan nodded, and Astarion let out an unneeded breath. “I have these… scars, on my back. Would you read them?”

Sekh was silent- he knew he was the only one thus far to have seen the scars on Astarion’s back, and that asking Rolan to read them was opening up on a level he had yet to do with most.

Rolan looked like he had a plethora of questions- but Sekh was thankfully he asked none of them, and simply nodded. The drow didn’t think Astarion was in a state to attempt to explain Cazador again.

Astarion unticked his shirt, carefully pulling it off and balling it in his arms. He turned away from Rolan and Sekh, showing the canvas that was his back.

Rolan hummed, reached up to hold his chin, quite obviously contemplating. Sekh took a chance to study the scars again- and it didn’t matter that he had seen them before, that he’d felt them under his fingertips- it was still a sight to behold.

Wretched. Beautiful. Wicked.

Rolan reached out, carefully traced one of the symbols with his nail. Astarion gasped, body going tense, and Sekh rushed around him, reaching out to press his palm to one of Astarion’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” Rolan offered, sounding almost sheepish.

Astarion cleared his throat. “It’s… quite alright. I was just unprepared.” He took a steadying breath. “You can touch them if you need to. I would… prefer it if you didn’t, though.”

Sekh watched Rolan nod, his hand falling away. And he wanted to kiss Astarion in that moment, for setting a boundary. Instead he just stroked his cheek once with his thumb, before pulling back.

“The text is incomplete,” Rolan finally said.

“Is it a poem?” Astarion asked, and yet Sekh could tell from the look in his eyes, he knew the answer.

“If it is, it’s not like any poem I’ve ever read. It reads like a contract.” Rolan traced one of the symbols, not touching Astarion’s skin but hovering above it. “This reads like a strip of a page within a book. This is ascension,” he traced again, even if Astarion couldn’t feel and Sekh couldn’t see. “I assume whoever carved this would be at the receiving end of that- but I can’t tell who the pact is with.”

Astarion’s shoulders sagged a little and he turned around, glanced up at the taller tiefling. “Thank you,” he offered, “this is… something.”

Rolan’s eyes softened, and Sekh watched him reach out, tip Astarion’s chin up. Sekh’s heartbeat quickened over the touch, as if he was giving it yet also receiving it. “I imagine you will figure it out- you lot seem impeccably good at always finding the answers.” Astarion looked up at him, and Sekh noticed those red eyes dancing-

Rolan pulled back, waving them off.

“You’d best go before Jaheira storms Moonrise, your hunt for this relic be damned.” The wizard slipped past them, moving away into the waking chaos that was all of the tieflings.

Sekh glanced at Astarion. “I didn’t expect you to ask Rolan about your scars.”

The vampire shrugged, before he pulled his shirt back on. “Someone needed to read them. Besides,” he paused, dipped his head down slightly, “you trust him.” Astarion reached for Sekh’s hand, took it, rubbed his thumb along his knuckles. “And I trust you, my sweet.”

Sekh squeezed Astarion’s hand, silently, endlessly thankful for that trust. He hadn’t been close enough to anyone to trust in this way since…

Ever. Not in all his adult life. The only one was Syl, and the pact made their relationship a bit different.

Sekh hoped that Astarion knew he trusted him, too. Endlessly. To the stars. At the core the man, Sekh knew Astarion was far better than the man would ever realize.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #sekh'met #tavstarion #astarion/tav #astarion x tav #I had to use this picture of them it just kills me

5 notes · View notes