Chapter Text
Whisper’s adrenaline was pumping, eyes darting around the battlefield. Minsc had been knocked out, Jaheira guarding him from anyone who might’ve been tempted to kill or reclaim the “Stone Lord”. Gale was casting spells to try to control the crowd, while Whisper and Astarion darted through the Stone Lord’s men, assisting each other in getting strikes in.
Astarion bit down on one enemy, getting a mouthful of blood. Somehow, Whisper knew that was her cue someone was trying to sneak up on her. She spun, sword leading the strike, followed by her dagger, as she felled the already-injured attacker. She grinned, the middle of a fight was one of the only times she could guiltlessly give in to her Urges, just a little. The warm blood coating her skin was a comfort, the swing of her blades through flesh an old dance.
She was surrounded now, one of the spellcasters would be to her left, and Astarion would take out one of the enemies behind her. She spun again, striking out at the person to the left with a deadly stab straight through the gut.
It wasn’t the spellcaster.
Astarion’s face was an expression of confusion and betrayal. Whisper watched in horror as the bloodstain in Astarion’s armor grew around her sword. He fell, his already-pale skin turning ashy.
“Astarion! I’m so, so, sorry,” Whisper pleaded, dropping her weapons as she knelt down by the vampire spawn, placing her hands over the wound to try to slow the bleeding. His blood was already so cold, but that was just because he’s a vampire, right? Tears were falling down her face. “Jaheira! Heal him, help him, please!” she called over, though the High Harper was locked in a fight with her doppelganger. Everything else seemed to move in slow motion, Whisper’s words muffled as if underwater.
As she looked back down to Astarion’s motionless body for something - anything - she could do, she heard a low chuckle. A chill ran down her spine at how achingly familiar the voice was. “You thought you could defy me?” Bhaal’s voice echoed around her. “You thought you could ever be free? Look around.”
Whisper reluctantly looked up from Astarion’s body, seeing the room now soaked in blood. The Stone Lord’s men all seem to have fallen where they stood, including a lifeless body dangling from the walkway above the entrance. Jaheira lay next to Minsc, neither of them breathing, and near the doorway into the chamber lay Gale, his Netherese orb’s swirling magic only slightly calmed by the charm Elminster provided.
Whisper screamed, eyes flying open to see Astarion leaning over her, watching her with a worried frown. Her eyes darted around, hands clenching at the bedding around her as she realized she was in the room she and Astarion shared.
“Whisper, darling? You’re safe. We’re safe,” Astarion assured, helping Whisper to sit up in the bed. She was trembling, hands gripping the bedding tightly as she stared down at the fabric. Astarion sat in front of her, hands gently sliding up and down along her arms, trying to soothe and ground her. “You’re having nightmares again?”
Whisper nodded, reaching a hand up to wipe the tears that were starting to spill. “I thought after everything was over, the worst ones would stop. Or at least that they’d be easier to deal with,” she stated. “If anything, it got worse.”
Astarion gave a thoughtful hum as he pulled Whisper closer, wrapping his arms around her. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Whisper hesitated, searching for the right words. She sighed, deciding to just go for it. “I killed you. Accidentally, during a fight. And then there was so much blood. Everyone dead around me. And then Bhaal’s voice… shit, I don’t even know if Bhaal was actually talking to me in my dream or if my fears were just messing with me. But Bhaal was taunting me. Saying I could never be free of him.”
“Darling, you ARE free,” Astarion insisted, arms tightening around Whisper protectively. “Bhaal will never have you again, I will make sure of that.”
Whisper willed herself to relax into Astarion’s arms. The Netherbrain was defeated just a tenday ago, the tadpoles now gone from their heads. The biggest enemy they had to face currently was the sun, with Astarion’s vampiric weaknesses back. They could relax.
“What time is it?” Whisper asked, looking to the curtained windows and trying to judge by their tint.
“The sun is just setting,” Astarion confirmed. “So you did at least sleep through most of the day, which is an improvement.
“I want to go out again tonight,” Whisper said, leaning back out of Astarion’s arms to look at him while she spoke. “See if we can catch some more bad guys.”
It was an idea they’d had the third night after the Netherbrain was defeated. Astarion needed more blood to drink than Whisper could safely give him, and they were both itching to pick up their blades again and use their skills. And with everything that happened recently, what remained of the Flaming Fist was stretched too thin to deal with all the people taking advantage of the chaos, so Whisper and Astarion decided to help out to everyone’s mutual benefit (except for that of the opportunistic criminals and murderers that ended up mysteriously dead the next morning).
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Astarion asked, grabbing Whisper’s tightly-clenched fist and kissing her white knuckles. She loosened her hand, not even realizing how tightly she was clenching it. “I think I might know what you need.”
“I swear, if you’re going to suggest copious amounts of alcohol or some kind of debauchery,” Whisper joked, earning an amused smirk from Astarion.
“Not this time, though I will happily tie you up again if that would make you feel… safer,” Astarion joked back. Whisper let out a huff, somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “What I was going to suggest instead was a little rebellion.” His smile faded as the tone shifted away from the humor. “The moment I realized I could truly be free of Cazador was the night I drank your blood for the first time.” He ran his fingers down the side of Whisper’s neck, over the various bite scars. “I’d broken one of Cazador’s strict rules, and there was nothing he could do about it. You should do something that Bhaal wouldn’t approve of, that you could’ve never done as a perfect little Bhaalspawn. Prove to yourself that you’re free to do what YOU want.”
Whisper thought for a moment, but then slowly nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. Let’s try it.”
“So, then the question is, what kinds of things would be antithetical to the god of murder?” Astarion asked, the humor back in his tone. “Petting puppies? Volunteering at an orphanage?” He scoffed, putting on a show of being disgusted at the thought of doing something altruistic.
“Saving lives instead of taking them,” Whisper chimed in.
“But the most convenient way to save lives is killing murderers, which is what we already do!” Astarion pointed out with a dramatic whine and a flourish of his hand as if he was waving away the thought.
Whisper gave a small laugh. “So now we’re back at square one with ‘going out to take out criminals’ being our plan,” she pointed out.
“Maybe we just go out in the city. Enjoy the nightlife and the scenery. And if we come across a puppy to pet or an orphan to save from a vicious killer, we’ll make sure to stop,” Astarion suggested.
*****
Unfortunately they didn’t run into any puppies to pet, though there was a stray cat near Sorcerous Sundries that Whisper was able to coax into letting her give head scritches to. Astarion stood back, watching Whisper crouch down and make noises to the cat with an amused smile.
Just past midnight, as Astarion and Whisper were walking by some businesses closed up for the night, Astarion frowned, looking down an alleyway.
“You notice something?” Whisper asked quietly, trying to figure out what Astarion was looking at.
“Well, what do we have here?” a voice taunted from behind Astarion and Whisper. They turned, seeing a dwarf and a half-elf, both brandishing swords that looked well-used but not well-maintained. The half-elf continued, “Forget your bodyguards at home? You can give us your money now, or we can beat it out of you.”
Whisper laughed, Astarion giving a chuckle himself beside her. “What, is this your first mugging?” she asked. “You need better technique. And to pick better targets. Do you not read the newspaper?”
“You think these guys can read?” Astarion asked Whisper with a smirk, not bothering to lower his voice.
To their credit, the dwarf and half-elf didn’t let the taunts get to them. The half-elf snapped his fingers, and four more humanoids emerged, surrounding Astarion and Whisper, two coming out of the alleyway that Astarion was suspicious of. All were similarly armed, though one held an axe, and one a spear. Two of them also had crossbows strapped to their backs in addition to their swords.
“Looks like we’re taking the gold by force then,” the dwarf stated.
Whisper sighed. “And we were trying NOT to kill anyone tonight,” she commented, pulling her dagger from its sheath concealed in her sleeve.
“And me without my good dagger,” Astarion lamented, drawing a pair of daggers, Whisper couldn’t even tell where from.
“I brought my good dagger, but I’m annoyed I left my sword back home,” Whisper replied.
The dwarf surged in first, sword raised to slash at Whisper. She dodged, slashing at his sword arm with her knife, though the cut wasn’t as deep as she’d hoped. She heard the sound of a crossbow going off, followed by a strangled shout. She looked, seeing Astarion run his sword through the elf holding the crossbow.
While she was now used to having a blade in each hand and using her other tricks outside of combat, having a hand free did have its own advantages. “Folgo,” she said, her free hand crackling with electricity. She reached out to the dwarf, shocking him, and took the opportunity to back up so she could assess the fight.
Whisper heard Astarion hiss in pain and turned to see him backing up from the human wielding the axe, some blood on his arm where he didn’t quite dodge in time. Whisper swiftly closed the distance, driving her blade into the human’s back. He shouted in pain and turned, which gave Astarion the chance to deal the final blow.
Apparently realizing that the group was woefully outmatched, the injured dwarf decided to flee. The other crossbow wielder stepped back and fired a bolt, which grazed Whisper’s sleeve, missing her skin by a hair. She called out another spell, this time using Hold Person, intending to deal with him next. However, the half-elf struck out at Whisper, missing her but keeping her from getting to the one she had in her spell.
Astarion, meanwhile, was busy fighting a tiefling with a spear, having trouble getting in close. Whisper dodged another blow from the half-elf, electrocuting him with Shocking Grasp, before finishing with the dagger.
She glanced over, her Hold Person spell was still in effect, so she looked to Astarion to see if he needed help. He had thrown one dagger, which embedded in the tiefling’s shoulder, giving him an opening to get close and finish him off. Which just left one more.
Whisper dashed in, dagger ready as the human finally shook off the effects of the Hold Person spell, though slightly too late. She plunged her dagger into his chest, the familiar warmth of blood covering her hand. As he died, however, Whisper was struck by how familiar the human looked. A memory flashed in her mind of another human, the first to meet his end at the end of a blade in her hands when the first Urge overtook her. For a brief moment, it wasn’t the would-be mugger she saw collapse to the ground in front of her. It was her adopted father.
Whisper gasped, dropping her blade. She didn’t even hear it clatter to the ground over the roaring in her ears, the pounding in her chest. The blood… the blood had to come off. This wasn’t her anymore, she wasn’t some blood-stained Bhaalspawn anymore. Rubbing it isn’t working, she’s rubbing but it’s just spreading. But scratching, that could work. Scrape off the blood that was starting to dry. She could start to see her skin again, it was red from her own nails, but the blood was coming off in thin lines. She just had to scratch faster, harder. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, she couldn’t breathe until the blood was gone.
Suddenly there was movement, a flash of white, her hands pulled away from each other by the wrists as she was pushed back. She kept upright, even though she didn’t even register what was happening until she felt brick against her back. Her hands were pinned up by her head and she briefly struggled against the grip. They were still covered with blood, it still needed to come off.
“Whisper! Hey, Whisper, darling,” Astarion’s voice cut through the sound of her frantic breaths and racing heart. “Look at me.”
Whisper looked up, seeing Astarion leaning over her, his expression worried, almost scared. It was his hands that were holding her wrists against the brick building he’d pushed her against.
“There you are. You with me?” he asked, holding her gaze.
Feeling unable to speak again just yet, Whisper nodded, just focusing on her breathing. She wasn’t sure exactly what had come over her, but she was now able to focus and think rationally. However, Astarion didn’t move, keeping her hands pinned.
“You were about to hurt yourself with the scratching,” he pointed out, his voice soft.
“I can’t explain it, I just suddenly really needed to get the blood off of me.” Her voice was still breathy, though at least her breathing had calmed enough that she could speak.
“Let’s go home. I’ll get a bath ready and help you wash up,” Astarion offered. Whisper nodded, a bath sounded perfect. “If I let go of your hands, you won’t start scratching again, will you?”
“No. The blood doesn’t exactly feel great, but I don’t need it off immediately anymore,” Whisper assured. “I can wait for ‘as soon as possible’ at least.”
Astarion slowly let go of Whisper’s wrists, letting her move her hands. He watched her close, though, looking for any sign that the panic and scratching would come back. She rubbed her arms to soothe the scratches and to feel something other than the blood, but she was no longer dragging her nails across her skin. Satisfied, Astarion picked up her dagger before leading the way back home.