Chapter Text
Amidst the bodies and fires of a raided hags lair the bloodied body of a seemingly dead hag shimmers and shifts. The powerful illusory image lifts to reveal the cold dead flesh of the young woman Mayrina tear tracks for her lost love still visible on her face. A tragic end for one so desperate to save their dead lover.
But there is a monster yet seething amidst the smoke and destruction of her lair. Her wounds yet weeping blood from the audacity of some upstart true souls that think they can walk into her house and pillage her potions, her items.
Auntie Ethel grimaces huffing a growl under her breath. Scoffing to herself as she starts looking at the damages. Oh no those sweet little petals will crumble to dust when she's done with them.
So the hag salvages what things she can a certain wand not least among them.
And very soon her luck will turn for the better.
A troubled gur is about to come knocking at her door looking for information on a certain vampire spawn she is very familiar with, and as luck would have it he's willing to pay any price. But truth be told she's in an accommodating mood. And what's saying she needs to stop there?
"I honestly don't understand why you feel the need to go and have a bleeding heart about this darling. We tried to play hero, waded through a gallery of traps Auntie Ethel left so diligently on display for us to admire and we ended up putting some unfortunate fools out of their misery." The echoes of Astarions voice are faintly muted in the bog. "All's well that ends not as bad as it could have." A purposely poor mockery of her voice leaves the fanged elf's mouth. Taveil laughs in spite of herself, and suitably goaded Astarion extends his arms out theatrically to the surrounding swamp, "Well congratulations dear we have vanquished the ancient evil and stole all of her potions. Bravo."
"I can still feel bad for those dealt a poor hand Astarion. I just feel like things could have turned out better."
Taveil clenched her jaw, the emotionless husk of a look plastered on the thralls faces trapped in their masks fresh on her mind. The mask that tried to consume her will after her own ill considered venture was still gripped in her fist. The mask smiled up at her from her side as if Ethel was mocking her from her well deserved grave.
The pointy eared sorcerous huffs out an exhausted sigh. A lingering guilt that they don't know what happened to Mayrina lingers at the edge of her conscience. "We both know no one deserves to be left under the thrall of some monster for who knows how long." She's looking at him for a reaction because it's been only a few days since he had taken a bite from that delectable neck of hers and his tadpole had let slip some information on Cazador. She's trying to be subtle, but the pale elf can feel her stare.
Astarion's nose wrinkles in displeasure before he gives a short quiet scoff right hand drifting to rest by his cheek his eyes drifting away from her to dwell on his own thoughts. He supposes he should probably show pity for the fodder back in the hags lair…. That would probably be the correct response. But honestly most of them probably deserved their fate, the hags thralls were hardly innocents. Most probably made some ill fated bargain, and he refuses to think about that too closely. Astarion pulls a smile with a little too much fang, but with his nature no longer secret he feels a bit of smugness that he can get away with it.
"Hmmm no one seems like abit of a broad term here darling, I could think of a few wretched… His eyes drift back to her feeling her gaze fall away from him. Her expression is genuinely upset, staring holes down at the muddy gravel at their feet; his flippant tone gives way to something more serious in brief appreciation for her tender heart. Oh dear he isn't going soft on her is he?
She really has no experience with these types of things does she? Is this where all the pity she's dredged up for him comes from? He's not sure if he likes that. A line from some heroic drivel flits through his mind 'an innocent scarred by the sight of a massacre.' He supposed normal people might be considered more fragile. The odd urge to laugh bubbled up but he quashed it down before it became obvious. As if he weren't always dancing on the verge of breaking.
His red eyes meander back toward the gnarled trees around him, the swamp sucking at his shoes as he delicately plucks his feet through the shallow silt. He loses the fight against acknowledging the similarities a thought whispers in the back of his mind. He was probably not an innocent. Realizing he may have been silent a touch too long he speaks. "No I suppose most don't," he says.
However the pale elf is quick to move on from the subject, his tone switching from quiet seriousness to a chiding tone. "But speaking of control, if you see a cursed looking mask on a table you should really just ... feed it to Gale. I'd rather Karlach not have to mar your lovely face to bring you back to sense." He's eyeing the mask in her hand wondering why she hasn't discarded it yet.
"It doesn't work that way Astarion." ,said wizard is trailing several lengths behind following the footsteps of a literary steaming hot tiefling. He looks up from the semi rotten looking staff Auntie Ethel had been wielding. He's holding the staff arms length away from himself like he's expecting it to turn into a snake. "I can’t just use just anything, it must be of a certain…"
Karlach interrupts having heard her name earlier. A crate full of potions is clanking between her hands. The red tiefling just seems overjoyed that she's able to help without immediately catching on fire with her infernal engine piping away in her chest. A little extra infernal iron since Dammon's upgrade she was finally able to interact with more things without making them spontaneously combust, but it was a little hot still. "Oy Astarion you aren't being mean to Tav are you? It's been a long day." Karlach has a wide grin on her face as she shoulder bumps Tav just because she can, catching up to Taveil's left while Astarion slips farther ahead allowing them their moment of camaraderie. The brief contact is harmless, but the muscular tiefling is less certain about a previous interaction. "You're sure I didn't break your nose did I?"
Taveil shakes her head, tucking away a tendril of hair damp from the moist air behind her ear. It's as though Karlach is casting a fog cloud behind them, but its simply steam rising from her footsteps. "Shadowheart would fix it right up if you had, but no you didn't. Astarion's right…"
There is a muffled "Of course I am." From Astarion up ahead of the two girls.
"Messing with the mask might not have been my best moment today." Taveil gives Karlach a properly abashed smile.
"Buck up soldier, we got the potions, the goblin camp raid should be much easier now. I know it got a bit messy back there but sometimes you do what you need to." Karlach gives a her a good natured smile trying to cheer her up. "So…" Karlach too sees her grip tight on Ethel's mask. Less for subtlety then Astarion she voices her thoughts gesturing to the offending item with her box of burdens in hand. "If your not saving it for Gale-"
"I'm going to burn it." Taveil says.
After having caught most of the exchange from his spot behind them. Gale trips in one of Karlach's foot prints just barley catching himself before he could fall in the mud. He let's himself have a rueful smile from the tail end of their party jumping back into the conversation. "Ah i see, destroying a cursed item you were attuned to, can never be too careful."
"You're looking too far into it Gale, I just think watching it burn will make me feel a little lighter this evening."
Gale clears his throat, "Ahh I see, while I understand the sentiment I think you'll find experience is the best teacher I'm afraid. We can prepare for anything, but there's always a chance something goes wrong. Ah well with any luck these potions will help us rescue this Halsin fellow everyone's been on about and we'll finally get a viable lead on this tadpole problem. That is assuming we don't find Lae'zel's Gith friends first."
Astarion rolled his eyes, Gale was a little too adept at nattering on. Another annoyance that came with traveling with this troup of doomed fools. Taveil's compassion he could work with ,but that didn't mean he didn't find it mildly irritating. He isn't sure if the tadpole had given a boon or a curse when Taveil had probed his mind for more information. Apparently his desire to help her understand his own plight was a too obvious to his little tadpole friend when a nightmare of Cazador's making had led him to try to bite her. Bits from his past, on Cazador, his nightmare and his hunger had all bled through the connection.
Her anger that night from his failed previous escapades had drained away. The acceptance that replaced it was surprising to say the least. She was less weary of him now, but he felt raw and exposed. He'd caught her looking at him not like that typical tavern goers he was used to, but thoughtful and curious. Less like an object and more like a book. She wanted to hear his opinions. He could hardly stand it. Where before they were playing games. Now he felt like he had consequences. Whatever they shared or lost now wasn’t something he could laugh off. He didn't know what to do with it. But it was better then losing her graces altogether. But he thought if the Sorceress their little group looked up to wanted to find him interesting then mission accomplished right?
Closer to when they were fresh out of there pods he thought he'd just have to keep endearing himself to her to secure his place at her side. Then perhaps with the tadpole and this ragtag group he might be able to fend off his master's fury when it arrives. He'd been wrong of course.
She wasn't terrible company to be honest. Beautiful, powerful, and an irritating need try to assist a few sob stories. But there was a playful bit of spite to her. She wasn't one to just let things lie. She tended to brood over things. And if someone tipped the scale too far well….
***
He had flirted with her trying to steer her toward a fondness for him or so he'd thought at the time. She kept looking at him after his flattery and she suddenly got warmer to him, like the break of a dam. It was jarring and he couldn't get rid of her, but he played along; he needed her after all. If this was the game then at least they were both playing.
After she had noticed him…procuring extra objects from their endeavors she started stealing his books.
Astarion had a small hoard of the best ones he kept moving, because she'd made it this game. Those few days he did not feed at night he'd simply find her reading the latest bardic epic he'd procured when he'd return from a hunt. He had been starting to get worried if she was going to ask where he was going by himself.
Gale had noticed her love of reading as well and had offered her some of his tomes and she had taken a few, but not nearly as many as Astarion's.
It had been a couple days. Although seducing her did align with his plans, finding her in his space was starting to irritate him that night. "You're in my tent again, dear."
She smiles at him while not looking away from the book and turning the page. "Yes I am." He saw the book she was reading and it's his of course. Why wouldn’t it be anything else? He'd set a trap by that one. The bookmark he's embroidered has been removed and set on the bedroll beside her and Astarion's eye twitches.
Her eyes ghost up through her lashes like she's trying to mirror one of his previous furtive glances but then she continues reading seemingly comfortable. "Something the matter?" The words seemed heavier to Astarion than usual. Again it's an echo of something he’s said to her. He realizes his back is too tense and he allows his body to relax an easy smile on his face.
"Of course not my dear. But the night will soon be upon us and you should get your rest." He's reaching for the book to delicately pluck it from her hands but she pulls it away, closing it and setting it by her side. His smile is a little too sharp. She's staring at him again. "Need something?" He says. While his head screams 'What does she want?'
"Can we stop lying to each other?" She's looking at him again, but she doesn't sound warm or angry, just tired.
He resists the urge to lick his lips. He blinks. "Whatever are you talking about dear?"
"Sincerity."
"..."
Taveil's eyes were boring into him. "Why are you putting up with this, Astarion. I know I've been acting childish, but why are you encouraging it when it's just hurting you. Why flirt with me if you don't mean it?"
He screwed up. He’s not sure when it changed from the typical games to something else. His usual conquests were short bouts of lust, or easy strangers quickly dismissed. Something like guilt is lurking in his mind, but he tries to keep the doe eyed innocence in his expression anyway. He can fix this. In spite of everything else the last few days she's still helped him, tried to take care of him. Promised to fight with him. "Now darling why ever would you come to-"
"Astarion, can you talk to me and mean it, please? I love your compliments and flirting, but sometimes it feels empty like you're not there. I like you, but I'm starting to wonder if you really like me. If I'm bothering you, tell me. I'm in your tent. I've moved your things, it is bothering you. Why are you trying so hard to please me? If you want me to leave, tell me."
He’s not sure when the game quit being fun just then. It’s more difficult now to think of an excuse that works, because he doesn’t want her to hate him he finds. He couldn't say 'I've been seducing you to make sure I have an ally if something hunts me down.'
He couldn't say 'I want your protection, because you're powerful and make me feel safe."
He couldn't say 'I'm a monster and when you find out I don't want you to stake me.'
So he didn't look at her as he told her, "I want you to leave."
So that night Taveil had quietly stood up not looking at him. She had taken his book from her side and placed his embroidered bookmark back inside. And left his tent with a quiet, “I’m sorry.” She lays the story he let himself get lost in the night hours on his bedroll behind her.
When Astarion had opened the tome it was exactly where he had left off.
***
They hadn't acknowledged each other much since, he didn't want to make things worse between them, and she avoided him except for the tasks the parasite demanded of them complete lest they turn into a newer more disgusting monster then he already was sooner rather than later. That was up until the nightmare filled with Cazador. He’d had to know if Cazador’s compulsions still had sway over him. Thus trying to bite Taveil the other night.
Astarion lets himself fall back toward the main group, his good shoes covered in mud from this trek to rescue some sorry souls trapped in the whims of another monster. Even with Taveils best of intentions to save them, the best thing offered was a quick death. He watches the treeline again and none of Cazador's minions run out to bring him back to his previous torment in Baldur’s gate. He falls in line beside Taveil hoping she’s directed most of her anger toward the hag instead of any lingering resentment towards his missteps. Taveil isn’t a dragonborn, but her draconic ancestry makes her a much more durable fighter then Gale. The blue scales that adorn the half-elf’s face are deep blue that compliments her lavender skin, and raven hair. Astarion is glad that a Sorceress of her talents never came under his master’s notice. Taveil has mentioned at least in passing that she's been to Baldur's Gate. Gale has finished his lecturing while Astarion was half lost in his own musings.
“Oh I don’t know Gale I can think of a few bonfires that would make me feel much lighter as well.” Astarion allows himself a barbed smile.