Chapter Text
The glint of steel and a shock of sparkling blue sky was all Valena’s brain had time to register before her back hit the ground and the handsome elf she’d just been offering to help was holding a razor-sharp dagger to her throat.
“Shhh… not a sound,” the warm, almost seductive voice caressed her ear as his body pressed over hers, holding her to the ground, “Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.”
His tone made her shiver, but she wasn’t sure it was entirely with fear.
“Now…” he continued, his blade pressing down on her neck just hard enough that she knew any attempt to squirm free would result in gashing blood, “I saw you on the ship, didn’t I? Nod.”
She nodded, mind racing to find the right words to get her out of her most recent predicament, or at least out from under his knife so she could muster her magic to defend herself. How exactly she had managed to find herself in imminent danger twice in one day, she had no idea. It was almost comical, really.
“And now, you’re going to tell me exactly what you and those tentacled freaks did to me,” he half snarled, the arm encircling her waist tightening with what she knew was panic tinged with anger. She could hardly blame him. After all, she had been just as panicked when she’d awoken on the mind flayer ship.
“I… I can explain,” she began, aware that one wrong word could be her last, but before she could continue, she felt her mind lurch as pain overtook it, a throbbing that was already beginning to become familiar. Her skin tingled, almost as if she were casting magic as she felt her consciousness shift. She was prowling through dark, busy streets, a sense of urgency that almost amounted to panic in the back of her mind. Whatever it was she was doing out here wasn’t of her own accord. She had to get back to someone… back to him before he… and then there was the mind flayer ship, darkness, and fear worse than the fear she’d felt before, fear so overwhelming that it threatened to drown her in its dark grasp.
Her head throbbed again and she was back in her own brain, feeling the knife slip away while the arm so tightly around her loosened its grip just slightly.
“What was that?” The elf gasped, almost seeming not to realize that he’d stopped holding her quite as tight. Now, now was her time to escape, but it was clear to her that he had been infected as she was, that he was as frightened as she was. If she slipped free, he might think she meant to harm her and attack, and then she would be forced to unleash her magic and attack him. Damn it all, but if her soft heart wasn’t going to be her undoing again.
“I’d be a bit more inclined to answer,” she said wryly, although she braced herself to face the consequences of her own boldness, “If you didn’t have a knife to my throat.”
To her surprise, he pulled back, removing his knife and arm entirely and slowly, deliberately clambering to his feet. The moment she was free of him, she rolled back, nimbly jumping to her feet and grasping her staff where it had dropped, just in case.
There was a moment of awkward silence, and she took the opportunity to look, really look at him. He was tall for an elf with an elegant figure that would have put princes she’d met to shame. His clothes were fine, well cut and expensive, and he carried himself with the pompous refined air she’d come to associate with nobility. His face… well… it took all her willpower not to blush just looking at it. She had never seen a face so ethereally beautiful. His features were perfectly formed, sharp and intelligent and yet expressive in a way that made her feel they were capable of great gentleness. His skin was a chiseled porcelain so perfect he could almost be a statue, and a shock of luscious white hair fell around his pointed ears, drawing attention to deep red eyes fixed on her with a kind of interested intensity that made her cheeks color just slightly in spite of her best efforts.
“So,” he began, “You’re not one of them. They took you, just the same as me…” his voice trailed off and he glanced down as if considering something, leaving her feeling a little breathless at the sudden loss of eye contact.
“And to think,” he glanced back up after a long moment, and something in his expression had changed. All serious intensity was replaced with a kind of casual charm that was too effortless to be sincere, “I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. What a waste of beauty that would have been,” he swept his eyes over her admiringly, and she felt herself blush again. Gods, how embarrassing. It was clear this was a practiced routine of his, one she was much too old to fall for, and yet, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of pleasure at the thought such a beautiful elf might find her beautiful.
“I might have done the same,” she said, shrugging slightly, desperate not to seem the blushing, hapless maiden won over by a few pretty words. “Were our roles reversed.” And it was true. She might have been a tad too easily drawn into helping people who didn’t have her best interests at heart, but she knew how to defend herself when it came down to it.
“Ah,” he smirked, “A kindred spirit. Nonetheless, my apologies. I’m out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice.” He gave a sweeping bow. “My name’s Astarion. I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.” He frowned as he said it, as though the memory was too painful to allow him to keep up his charming charade.
“Valena,” she offered him a tentative smile, “I can’t say I’ve ever been to Baldur’s Gate, actually, although I was on my way there before I was so unceremoniously kidnapped.”
A rakish smile tugged at his lips. “Well, I’m a magistrate in the city. Perhaps if we get lucky and don’t find ourselves transformed into tentacle monsters by the end of the week, I’ll show you around. Although…” he bit his lower lip suggestively, “I can certainly think of some advantages to tentacles.”
Shadowheart’s snort of derision behind her saved Verena from trying to think of an answer. With a half-amused grin she said, “I’m not sure my companion finds that idea palatable.”
“Well, how boring,” he said with a drawl, eyes lighting on Shadowheart with the same flirtatious invitation with which they had regarded her, sending a bit of a deflated feeling through her chest. She’d known his flattery was insincere, but it had felt good to imagine he meant it, even if just for a moment. “I thought,” he continued, “That clerics knew how to have fun underneath all that holy clothing. At least, the last cleric I came upon certainly did.”
Valena didn’t miss the double meaning in his words, and by the disgusted expression on Shadowheart’s face, neither did she. “Perhaps,” she said lightly, stepping in before Astarion could make an enemy of her other companion, “We could defer conversations about what we enjoy in bed to an evening with more wine and a location with less dead bodies.”
“If I didn’t know better,” said Astarion as he sheathed his dagger, “I’d say that almost sounds like an invitation to join you.”
“It is.” She said, hoping she wouldn’t regret it.
“Well, I had planned to go it alone but,” he glanced between them, “I suppossseee there could be some advantages to traveling with company, besides the obvious ones, of course.” He winked and gave another little bow. “Lead the way, darling.”
Oh yes, she was absolutely going to regret it.
***
Astarion’s mind had been racing a mile a minute since he’d been kidnapped and stuck with a mind flayer tadpole. He’d barely had a moment to gather his wits about him after his unexpected escape before the red-haired elf he’d seen on the ship had come along. He’d planned to kill her at first, pay her back for what he thought she’d done to him, or at the very least torture information about how to cure himself out of her.
His plans had changed the moment he’d realized she was as much a victim as he was. She could be useful, after all, and she’d been gullible enough to aid him, a total stranger without a moment’s hesitation or suspicion. He’d flirted a little too, once he’d been sure she didn’t plan to eviscerate him, to test how easily his charms would work on her if needed. She’d made an effort to appear untouched, but he’d seen the way her large green eyes had traveled over him, seen the brief touch of pink in her cheeks when her eyes had lingered on his lips a moment longer than was quite necessary. She wanted him, or she could certainly be made to want him very easily, if need be, and that was all he needed to know to ensure she would be a good traveling companion. Yes, she would be VERY easy to manipulate, and that would keep him safe.
His first impressions of her gullibility weren’t disproven as the day went on and she rescued a rather self-congratulatory wizard and a most unpleasant Githyanki, neither of whom he anticipated ever considering good company. She seemed determined to assist anyone and everyone who might possibly need her help, a trait he found more frustrating than anything. He needed to find a cure for this tadpole, and quickly, or it wouldn’t matter if Cazador found him or not. He’d be a mindless husk not even his master would consider worth torturing, and with every stop they made to help some hapless creature, he drew closer to that reality.
It was the following day before they finally made meaningful progress towards the druid camp where this supposed healer was. He didn’t have much faith in druids, but if one of them could get this tadpole out of his head, he wouldn’t complain. The sound of shouting drew his attention ahead, and he realized there were several humans splattered in blood sprinting towards what seemed to be a wall covered in vines. Valena stopped, motioning to them all to do the same, waiting for the interaction to play out before they proceeded. No battles were won by hurtling headlong into them. The humans’ words were barely audible, but the panic in their stances wasn’t as they glanced fearfully behind them and waved their hands above, motioning to the Tieflings who had appeared above to open the gate.
Before they could get the gate open more than few inches, however, he saw them. Goblins, more than a dozen of them, sprinting full speed over the hill, weapons in hand, dead intent on killing the humans cowering at the gate and anyone else who stood in their way. It was too late to avoid the fight, they were well within the sight of the Goblins, several of whom began to fire arrows in their direction as they approached. His own bow was out in a flash, ready to give as good as he got. Valena was just as fast, a fire bolt summoned between her fingers before he had even strung his bow. With a cry he recognized as an incantation, she flung it at the nearest goblin, sending him staggering back screaming, sword dropping to the ground as he desperately attempted to stomp out the flames. With that, they all leapt into action, Lae’zel charging at a goblin with her blade drawn, Shadowheart supporting them with healing spells as they were hit. He aimed and shot and hit his targets flawlessly, unaware of the din that was going on around him except for Valena. She was impossible to miss, her fiery red hair flaming almost as brightly as the firebolts she cast. Her movements were graceful, almost artistic as she weaved and dodged, casting and side stepping as easily as if it were second nature to her. It was clear she was no novice to battle.
He found himself standing next to her, taking advantage of the higher ground of the hill overlooking the battle, sending arrows raining down next to her fireballs. She cast him a wicked grin, green eyes sparkling as one of his arrows lodged itself in the heart of a lumbering Goblin beast he had no name for.
“Not bad for a rogue,” she called teasingly over the din of the battle, and then before he could reply, she had misty stepped to a cliff nearer to the door, taking aim at the leader of the Goblin pack.
It didn’t take her long to finish him off, and with their leader dead, the remainder of the Goblins devolved into confusion, making them easier to take down. When they were all dead, the gates to what was undoubtedly the druid enclave swung open, and the humans they’d just assisted scampered inside without so much as a glance back to say thank you. He frowned disapprovingly, wiping the blade of his dagger off on the side of his cloak. Ungrateful wretches.
Valena was standing in the middle of the battle field, blood splattering her pale skin and elegant dark green robes. She was no eyesore, he had to admit, even covered with the evidence of battle, or perhaps because of it. Graceful and slender with long, delicate ears and full lips, it was her eyes that stood out most, greener than emeralds, and sparkling even brighter when cast in relief against her flaming hair. At least seducing her wouldn’t be too much of a chore. She beckoned them towards her, raising an eyebrow as she caught his stare. He simply cast her a brazen smile and sauntered over to where Shadowheart and Lae’zel had already joined her.
“Is anyone hurt?” Her eyes were bright with concern as she surveyed them all, strangers she’d only known for a day yet somehow seemed to care for as if she’d known them all her life. She reached into her bag as she spoke, withdrawing a few health potions and offering them to them.
“A little blood is good for your health,” said Lae’zel, gazing admiringly at a wound on her arm. “I will not accept the healing potion.”
“Personally,” Astarion said, extending his hand to take the health potion, “I prefer my blood on other people.”
“You and I are in agreement there,” said Shadowheart, also taking a potion with a grateful smile.
“Enough rest,” Lae’zel said impatiently, “Let us speak with this healer so you may satisfy your curiosity. They will not be able to cure you, only a Githyanki Creche possesses the cure.”
Astarion gave a long, exasperated sigh. He’d known the Githyanki warrior for less than a day, but he’d already heard her speak of this creche so many times that he would rather kiss a goblin than ever hear her speak of it again.
Valena seemed equally exasperated, but she only smiled kindly and said, “I promise, if this doesn’t prove to be a cure, we will try your Creche. I’m willing to try anything.”
Lae’zel harrumphed but fell into line behind them as they made their way through the gates and up to where the leader of the humans was arguing with a Tiefling.
“There are children here, you fool!” The Tiefling was yelling at the human Astarion recognized as the leader of the group who had led the goblins to the gate.
“We was running for our lives,” the human’s face was flushed in a way experience had taught him meant anger for humans. Well, perhaps this would devolve into a brawl. How enjoyable.
“You led them right to us, AND you let them take the druid too. UNBELIEVABLE!” Yelled the Tiefling, clearly a leader of some kind.
Both men’s voices were raised, their posture aggressive, Astarion folded his arms and stood back, content to watch the drama unfold.
“One fight has ended, and you’re already picking another?” Valena’s voice cut through the tense silence and he watched with interest as she approached them, shoulders back, elegant and authoritative as a queen, as though she had every right to interfere in their fight. He had to admire her brazenness. “How about you put the anger aside and focus on cleaning the blood off your clothes?” She flicked a piece of dried guts off her sleeve as she said it, staring evenly at them both.
The Tiefling raised his hands, “My apologies,” he said. “I too would rather settle this peacefully.”
“And who the hell are you?” Growled the human, turning the strength of his fury towards her for interrupting. To her credit, she didn’t so much as flinch.
“Mind your manners,” snapped the Tiefling. “If it wasn’t for her, your innards would be decorating the ground right now.”
“No thanks to you,” he snarled back.
“Funny you should mention thanks,” she said cooly, distaste in her expression. “I didn’t hear you say any before you scampered in here to start another fight. How about we begin there?”
“Why you…” the human lunged towards her, fists raised, but she side stepped him smoothly, straightening her skirts as she did so as if he were nothing more than an inconvenient bug. He stumbled, clearly caught off guard at her nimbleness, and before he could regain his balance, she raised her hands and called out an incantation. He was on the ground in an instant, struggling in vain against the invisible force that pinned him down.
“Now, now,” she said, peering down at him, a half-amused smile dancing on her lips, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you that you shouldn’t hit a lady?”
Astarion couldn’t help his own smile of amusement. She’d taken him by surprise once again. Why he’d expected her to just roll over and take the insult, he had no idea, but it was clear that her kind heart hadn’t dulled the sharpness of her wits.
“Have you learned your lesson?” She asked the man on the ground, “Or am I going to have to give you a little nap?”
The man’s eyes widened, and Astarion knew he had begun to realize his own skills were no match for the sorcerer standing so casually above him.
“I… I’ve learned,” he muttered sullenly.
“Say sorry,” she said, a condescending edge in her voice that made her sound like she was speaking to a petulant child.
Delight and amusement sparked through him. Perhaps they could be friends after all.
“Sorry.” The man muttered.
“Sorry… what?” she asked, flexing her fingers just to show him she had plenty of magic left to spare.
“I’m sorry for trying to hit you.”
“Very good,” she said with a laugh, releasing him from her spell.
He scrambled to his feet, anger still flashing in his eyes, but he was wise enough to take a step back.
“I hate sorcerers,” he muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists.
“Oh no!” she placed her hand to her chest in mock horror, “How ever will I go on living without your approval?”
The man blinked, opened his mouth, decided better of it, and scampered away like the coward he was.
“Well, well,” Astarion said, amused delight dancing across his face as he approached her. “Who knew you had SUCH a delectable sense of humor?”
She raised her eyebrows at him saucily, “Many people, actually. They just didn’t start their acquaintance with me by holding a knife to my throat. Imminent death has a rather wit-dampening effect, I’ve found.”
“Touché,” he said, giving a little bow. “My sincerest apologies for attempting to kill you yesterday, I can almost promise I won’t try it again.”
“Almost… I’m flattered. I must have really impressed you today. I was almost certain I was sitting somewhere in the ‘definitely can’t promise I won’t try it again’ range after all the dirty looks you cast me yesterday.”
“Dirty looks?” He gave an expression of mock horror before slipping it into something softer, more seductive, “If by dirty looks you mean undressing you with my eyes, then yes, I suppose you’re right.”
The faint tint of pink that crossed her cheeks was the only indication his flattering words had found their intended mark. Otherwise, she seemed unphased. With a huff of amusement, she rolled her eyes and replied, “Yes, I noticed you undressing the entire camp with your eyes during dinner last night. I’m afraid if you’re hoping this journey ends with a camp-wide orgy, you’re going to be bitterly disappointed.”
“That’s what I call a waste of a camp full of very attractive people,” he said with a pout, drawing his eyes slowly over her face and down over her body in a way he knew people found irresistible.
“I think it’s rather telling that we could all be mindless husks in a matter of days and sex is the only thing on your mind,” she said with a laugh.
“Trust me, darling,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, close enough that he caught the unmistakable scent of orchid and sandalwood beneath the metallic tang of blood, “When death is imminent, sex is the only thing on anyone’s mind. I’m just the only one bold enough to say it.”