Chapter 1: Kissed by the Sun… If the Sun was a Two Copper Coin Whore
Notes:
Well, it happened. I fell into the Baldur's Gate trap. Funnily enough, when the game was first making the rounds I actually wasn't planning on playing it. I saw a grand total of one scene (I think in a trailer or a preview bonus of some kind, can't remember entirely for sure) and it was basically just Astarion getting it on with Halsin in bear form and I was immediately very confused about what was going on. For the longest time he was just "the bear fucking guy" because I thought that was just a thing he was into as a character trait. Anytime anyone brought up the game or the character I had to think for a moment and then be all, "Wait, isn't that the game with the guy and the bear?"
One of my friends eventually bought me the game to play with him and I have to look back on my ignorant self and laugh at how badly I misjudged it. Seriously, it's very deep and I adore the characters, and the theme of the game itself where it very seriously addresses abuse and hard times, but that you can heal from it with kindness and understanding from those around you. It's not just your party members either. I held a great deal of empathy for the villains as well, and felt very bummed when I found out there was cut content on chances for redemption.
Though… I got to admit, between the former elf slave murderously angry at his magic-using master and the wizard party member that has a complicated relationship with a nonhuman magical entity from another plane of existence that is trying to convince him to blow shit up for the greater good… I gotta admit I was getting some strong Dragon Age 2 vibes. No, they're not exactly like Fenris and Anders I'll admit, but it was close enough I got some nostalgia feels for my two favorite broken boys from that game. It might have influenced my crushes on them a tad bit. Considering Dragon Age was apparently a spiritual sequel to to Baldur's Gate I guess that makes some sense that it's got the same feel.
I've got no nostalgia excuse for my crush on Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Karlach and Wyll. I guess I just… really like them too. Apparently they all like me too, because dear lord was I propositioned a lot. Granted, I mostly ship those four together (in that order no less lol) but Astarion and Gale ended up leaving me so smitten I ended up running several separate games just cause I wanted to see all my faves smooch each other so maybe I should have shut up about the bear thing. And I also ship Bloodweave so this game has just done SHIT to me! Oh, and of course yet another game to see the lore of the Dark Urge where I ignored romance and just wanted to focus on the story only to have mother fucking ENVER GORTASH ruin me. Suffice to say, I was screwed. I think one of the most fun things about this game is that by being able to play any of the companions, you can technically make any ship canon and it's very much supported in the fandom that just about any combination between the group is accepted and loved, even if certain pairings are more popular. Seriously, I've yet to see any anti on any of these couples between the party and as a multishipper that makes me very happy.
Anyway, playing the game has been a huge amount of fun, and inspired me a bit to write up some content for it. Originally it was just some silly fluff and smut with a bit of drama thrown in when appropriate, though somehow a big heaping of redemption arcs slipped in as well. The start is inspired somewhat by the fact that the group is a huge amount of weirdos and Tav is just… normal. Just this normal adventure that got kidnapped and is kind of the only sane person there with no tragic backstory (and certainly not one in comparison to playing the Dark Urge) and I thought it might be funny to throw in a slightly off-kilter paladin to bounce off of Astarion as he tries this very weird dance to seduce her while wondering if it's really worth it. Spoiler warning, it is… for the most part. Though to be fair, it's only a very small part of the story evolving here.
I also want to thank the talented artist Nev for supplying the artwork to this fanfiction. Stuff is completely amazing and talented, and can be found here https://nevart.carrd.co/# for further look into her work. Full credit goes to her for the art.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion had endured a lot of 'worst day of his life' experiences. He could probably give a top ten list if he was pressed without even thinking about it too hard. Spending the night trying to find another meal for his master only to end up kidnapped and ending up on a mind flayer ship though? That was a bit out there even for him. The ship jostling around, things exploding and getting set on fire as he lay in his tube, banging on the glass to try to escape, he had this thought that maybe… just maybe he was going to die and he was so not ready for it.
Because as completely fucking awful as his life was, there was no way he was going to allow it to end on anyone else's terms but his own, damn it! He was a firm believer that while things could always get worse, a little spark lived in his dead heart that dreamed it could someday get worse for Cazador and therefore would proportionally get better for himself. He might be a cynic, but hope had never completely died that one day shit might get real for his master and he could point at him and laugh as the bastard shriveled up and died in horrible agony.
There was no way he was going to live to see this if he didn't escape though, so that was priority number one as he watched the chaos unfold around him with people and demons and illithids running around. He couldn't help but pout a little bit when no one got him out, but what had he honestly expected?
Then the crash had happened, and he found himself knocked about as his pod flew loose from the ship as it sped down to the ground.
They say your life flashes before you eyes before you die, but he was happy enough to skip that experience as he watched the world hurtling towards him, only muttering a bitter, "Oh, fuck my life," before his head slammed against the glass and he was out cold.
When he next woke up, he was on the ground with shattered glass, sand, and seaweed clinging to him and feeling an odd warmth against his skin. It took a moment or two to be able to move, groaning as he opened his eyes and immediately closed them as quickly as he could. Everything was so bright, so colorful, so…
His eyes snapped open again and he looked around wildly. It was daylight! He shoved himself up to scramble for shade before he noticed his hands. They were… fine. He wasn't burning up. What… what was going on? Glancing up, he was shocked to see the sun was very high in the sky, telling him it had to be somewhere around noon. He should have been ashes hours ago. What was going on?
Astarion wasn't an idiot, far from it in his opinion, but he was as susceptible to panic as well as the next person and he was full up on surprising events for the time being. So while he was marveling on the impossibilities of him still being alive… well, undead but still kicking, he wasn't really in a good place for company. When he heard footsteps of people approaching him, the first thought that entered his head was that it was better they get hurt than him and decided to lay a trap.
Three woman approached, all equally bloody and covered in sand, and he quickly waved them over. He wasn't a fan of the numerical odds, but if he could get a knife to one of their throats then he would be safe. He had a gut feeling they wouldn't be willing to risk a companion's life, and if they were then he was screwed anyway.
"Hurry, I've got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it, can't you?" he asked as one approached. Her appearance was… odd, to say the least. Her hair was both a dingy black and a bright shade of red, mixed together in a sloppy mess only barely held together in an untidy style, and with the same color of red stripes coming from both her eyes that were covered with what looked to be black soot. It reminded him of fire and smoke, the kind that would choke and blind you in a burning building. The look was actually foreboding and it made him wonder if he'd found some sort of demon that had hitchhiked on the ship during their brief stint in the hells.
But instead she only smiled brightly at him.
"Of course, no trouble at all. Stand back so you don't get hurt," she said reassuringly to him and walked forward towards the brush. She paused though when a boar leaped out from the bushes instead and turned to him just as he was about to lunge at her. It caused him to just awkwardly stand there with his knife raised, but luckily she seemed just as caught off guard as he felt. To his credit, he usually got people drunk before attacking them. "Uh… it… it was just a boar, stranger. You can calm down."
Well, this was going swimmingly. Not only had his attempt to grab her utterly failed, she was too stupid to realize he'd been trying to take her hostage. Which wasn't ideal since he kind of needed her to fear for her life in order to get any information out of her.
"Lavare, get away from him!" one of the other woman snapped angrily, dressed in simple brown clothes with a staff strapped to her back, and with a spattering of red scales about her forehead and cheeks. The one who'd approached him only held up her hands though, seemingly not that worried. The third, a half-elf in armor laid a hand on her mace but otherwise made no attempt to get closer.
"It's okay," the first woman said soothingly, her smile never dropping once. He couldn't tell if she was trying to calm her companions down or him. Maybe both. "We don't have to fight."
"Don't we? I saw you, free… scuttling about on that ship? You're in league with them, aren't you? Those tentacle-"
That was as far as his accusations got before he found himself in a horrible amount of pain, it feeling like his head was about to split open from the pressure he felt. All of a sudden he wasn't himself, he was someone else entirely, standing at the foot of a volcano, looking up at it, feeling excitement and nerves as someone came close, large and tall and in armor that would have been shinning if not for the fact it looked dingy with soot and smoke.
The sensations ended as fast as it came, but left him no less panicked.
"What was that?!" he demanded, feeling like a tea kettle that was about to boil over from all of the nasty events he had been going through in such a short amount of time. He didn't handle unpleasant surprises on a good day and this was far, far from a good day for him.
"It's the mind flayer's worm," she explained in a reassuring manner, her hands still held up as that damn smile never left her lips, as if she was trying to soothe a scared child. It made him want to slit her throat just to get the stupid look off of her face. "It connected us."
"The worm, of course. That explains things, somewhat," he admitted. It wasn't hard to figure out that he'd somehow seen into her head and it made him wonder just what she'd seen about him. She wasn't yelling to her companions to grab a stake though, so he had a feeling she hadn't been clued into that part. A worm being in his head didn't explain why he was in full daylight without damage, but that could be filed away for later. "And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards. Apologies."
"It's alright. This has been a lot for everyone, I'm sure. My name is Lavare, and this is my sister, Evelyn. The other woman is Shadowheart. We met her on the ship. I'm sorry I didn't see you, I would have gotten you out too."
"There was a lot going on," the half-elf excused coolly, still eyeing him with suspicion. Not that he could blame her. He had a feeling she had about as many allies around here as he did and was expecting danger at every turn.
"My name is Astarion," he supplied smoothly, as if all his introductions came with knife wielding. These three might still be useful, and when it came to hunting, he knew his best chances were to adapt to the situation. "I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me."
"Oh? You're from Baldur's Gate too? So are we," Lavare explained, happily giving away information like it was a sweet on Liar's Night.
"Is that so? We clearly move in different circles," he sneered lightly. "So, do you know anything about these worms?"
"Everything I've been told, they'll turn us into mind flayers," she admitted.
He couldn't help the bitter little laugh at the thought, of going from a spawn to one of those tentacle abominations. It was the literal equivalent of escaping the frying pan and landing into the fire. It was a horrible fate, ugly, terrifying and fit right into the narrative of the rest of his existence.
"Of course it'll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?" he breathed. "Although it hasn't happened yet. If we can find an expert, someone who could control these things, we might still have time."
"Control them?" Evelyn spat from the back. He could already tell she wasn't going to be a fan of his. "We need to get rid of them."
"Well, yes of course. But first things first," he admitted before looking to Lavare and flashing her a charming smile while silently urging her to take pity on the poor man all alone.
"You can travel with us," she offered happily, as if she were a goldfish that had forgotten all about how he had literally just been willing to slice her open for information only moments beforehand. "Our odds are better together."
Hook, line and sinker. What an idiotic girl, all too much like the ones he'd led back to his master… his master that he couldn't hear the commands of pounding in his head anymore. He was going to have to look into that when he had time to.
"I was ready to go this alone," he said, as if it wasn't his goal now to use this girl to keep himself alive. "But maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea, and you seem like a useful person to know. Very well, lead on."
He gave her a little bow along with another smile as she beamed at him.
"Great," she said happily before pausing. "But there's just one thing I don't understand."
"Mm, what's that?" he asked her curiously.
"If you thought I was in league with the mind flayers, why was your idea to lure me in to try to urge me to kill what is one of their servants?" she asked him as her head tilted to the side in confusion.
He could only stare at her, flummoxed as she pointed out the rather big flaw in his hastily slapped together plan while her companions suddenly snickered behind her. A sneaking suspicion came to him that she wasn't nearly as dumb as she acted, which was a shame because he really didn't need someone like that in his life.
"Never mind that. Let's just go," he insisted, trying not to allow too much embarrassment to crawl into his mind and settle there.
He was still puzzling on whether she was actually dumb or not when it hit him that it really didn't matter. She was worse than either of those things. She was obviously a bleeding heart. They'd barely cleared the ship when she ended up risking herself by sticking her arms into a portal to try to see who was crying for help before her sister had scolded her and used magic to try to calm down the crackling energy and help yank out a man who'd been stuck in there. As he hung back while they all discussed matters Astarion learned that he was traveling with a cleric, sorceress, and ugh… a paladin. It explained her all too sunny disposition, and he told himself to make sure she never found out he was a vampire spawn. It would make things entirely too awkward.
Still, having a wizard around proved useful when they'd trekked far enough that the day was starting to bleed over to evening. Shadowheart complained about wasted time and the need to keep going but it was clear exhaustion was setting in for the group. Gale had been all to happy to conjure all sorts of supplies like tents, bedrolls, candles and even throw pillows. If Astarion ever had to kill any of them, he'd make sure that the wizard would be the last one to go. He couldn't conjure food, not that Astarion needed any, but it seemed the girls had grabbed plenty to eat among the wreckage, and all too soon there was a fire roaring and everyone was settling down to rest for the evening.
The vampire was already not a fan. He wasn't used to plush beds and fans being waved for him by scantily clad servants, but he always at least had a place inside to trance. The kennels had never been anything better than gods awful, but there had at least been walls to keep out the elements. Were they really about to just lay down on mats on the dirt and call that good enough?
His distaste must have shown on his face, because all too soon Lavare was approaching him, out of her armor now and only in simple pants and a tunic that did nothing to hide her throat from him. He was a little conscious of the scars on his own neck and turned a bit too nonchalantly hide them from her view.
"Are you alright?" she asked him. "You look a little fidgety."
"We're really resting here?" he answered her question with one of his own. "Turning in for the night?"
"You've never slept outside before?" she asked him curiously. "I love camping myself, but admittedly I don't get out into nature as much as I'd like to."
Hard to believe there were people out there who'd enjoy things like this.
"It's a little new to me I admit. The night usually means bustling streets, bursting taverns," he informed her, explaining how he liked to spend his time with a flair of charm. "Curling up in the dirt is a little novel."
He hadn't meant it as a joke, but when she giggled he had a feeling she was laughing with him and not at him. She seemed too dense and nice to enjoy people's discomfort.
"Give it a try. You might like it," she suggested. "And we'll need to be fresh for tomorrow. There were fishermen at that crash so there has to be a settlement or town around somewhere. Hopefully not too far away."
He didn't exactly share her optimism but he hoped she was right all the same. Still, how to handle the not really needing to sleep thing? He could pass it off on being an elf, but even they needed to rest and trance. He already hadn't touched a bit of the food. He was going to need to appear as normal as possible or this was going to be a very short journey.
"I'm in no place to rest yet. Today has been a lot," he said, his tone subdued and contemplative, a sign that he needed space. Luckily, from her expression changing to concern, she seemed to be empathetic enough to pick up on it. "I need some time to think things through, to process this. You rest. I'll keep watch."
"Thank you," she replied with a smile. "I'll sleep better for that."
It was almost too easy to pull the wool over her eyes, no suspicion in her at all for the man who'd nearly knifed her on the shore just hours ago. He could only imagine how easy it would have been to lure her into an inn's bed, to thrust into her and make her mewl before taking her unconscious body back to Cazador and dumping her at his feet. He wasn't hunting for marks right now, but his mind had two centuries of practice on how to use people so already he was calculating the odds of who he could use for what and how much effort each person might take. A soft heart wouldn't be hard to string along, though as he glanced up and saw her sister eyeing him suspiciously, he had a feeling it was going to a little challenging to get the winds to blow entirely in his favor.
Still, maybe the sweet little thing would have her uses after all.
Only a few days later and he was ready to rethink that sentiment. Lavare was nothing if not infuriatingly nice. In the short time he'd been in the group, she'd been all too happy to help anyone and everyone who came to her with a whimper and a request for aid, a daughter taken by the druids or agreeing to help some swashbuckler wannabe hunt down a devil that in no way helped them with the worm in their head. It itched at his skin, to see someone so willing to help others, so happy to give of herself when they maybe had days to live at most.
Sadly, no one else in their growing group seemed as bothered, even happy to help. While Lae'zel prompted speed on their quest at the very least, she didn't seem eager to go it alone in this strange world she knew nothing about and so had resigned herself to travel with the pack of insufferable good do'ers.
"You can handle a weapon well enough, so you're at least useful," she'd coldly informed the paladin one afternoon as they navigated the large forest. "Make sure that quality doesn't begin to get outweighed by your need to be a charity to all that breathe."
"Of course not! It's just that if I only have a short time left, I want to make sure I'm not making other people suffer," she assured the group. "I promise I won't hold us back though. Besides, you never know when helping someone might help us in turn find a lead to a cure."
"It's her Oath," her sister had explained with a sigh. "She literally could lose what talents she has if she allows innocents to suffer."
"As a cleric, I can understand tenets kept to make sure your abilities are not lost to you," Shadowheart had agreed. The spawn wasn't fooled by her for a second. For all her standoffish attitude, the cleric seemed just as happy to help people as Lavare was.
"Just make sure we don't have to stop to feed kittens and adopt puppies," Astarion had snarked, and she'd only given that same happy laugh she did whenever he said something nasty, too vapid to understand he was trying to be rude to her.
And then she'd gone and found a dog next to a corpse and had literally adopted it and Astarion was ready to tear his hair out. It was quite one thing when she was willing to offer help to him, but it pissed him off to see her kindness handed out so willingly to anyone who even batted their eyelashes at her. It didn't help that hunger rolled in his stomach every time he saw the white and scruffy thing rolling around with her on the ground as she played with it. It would make such a fine meal and instead he kept having to slip away after everyone fell asleep, find an animal to drain it and then get back before anyone woke up. All the effort with barely any reward by dealing with her was making him cranky.
"What is wrong with her?" he grumbled as he watched her playing with Scratch one night, laughing like she wasn't at all worried about the tadpole in her brain. Maybe the little beast had already eaten it. Maybe that's why she acted so carefree and disgustingly sweet and utterly stupid.
"She is a little daft, isn't she?" a voice asked, causing him to whirl around and see none other than Evelyn of all people standing behind him. It surprised him to see the sorceress there. She didn't often spare words on him, usually over by Gale's tent. The two magic-users were already getting rather cozy, pouring over tomes and books to try to figure out some solution to their condition, especially since it didn't seem like anyone but Lae'zel had any hope in her creche being willing to cure them.
"I'm surprised to hear you of all people talk like that about her," he noted as he looked back over at Lavare as she played fetch with the dog while Gale worked on dinner, mostly roasting meat of the entire boar Astarion had drained just the night before that they'd come across. Luckily he'd been able to play it off as a random vampire stalking around, and that he should be the one to watch over the group for the night, not allowing anyone else to suspect him. "You're her sister after all."
Which didn't mean shit, really. Astarion's bonds with his siblings were far from all-loving or cuddly and he knew relationships could often be sour in families, but he was also a master of making leading statements to get people to easily supply information in conversations, and the more he knew about his companions, the better.
"It's not like lying about the situation is going to help," Evenlyn said with a shrug, arms crossed and looking like there was an unpleasant smell under her nose judging from the expression on it. "She's actually my half-sister. Different fathers and all that. Her father is a paladin with an Oath of the Ancients, just like her. A very powerful man, and old too."
"Oh?" he found himself asking, intrigued by the information. "How old?"
"I don't know the exact number. He never spared me any of his time," she replied. "Our mother met him when he was traveling through Baldur's Gate. It's not as if he's around much, but my sister has been out to meet him several times, since he has interest in her. He's the whole reason she took her oath in the first place, to be like him. His age is easily in the triple digits, I know that, and he's… otherworldly. I think he might have traces of fey in him or something and apparently he's so powerful he'd literally taken on aspects of nature himself long before he'd even had her. It made my sister… not quite all there."
He remembered the large form at the volcano, covered in ash and Lavare's own odd appearance. Seems like he wasn't the only one here with daddy issues of some kind.
"And you?" he asked, to which she eyed him and tapped gently on the scales over her temples with a couple fingers.
"What do you think? Some adventurer with a flair for magic, apparently died with his party trying to loot a beholder's treasures when I was only a year old. Our mother is an alchemist in the city, selling potions and the like. She is... a bit of a collector of the odd and exotic," she snorted. "Anyway, I've seen you eyeing her. If she's pissing you off that badly, you might as well leave."
"Yes, I'm sure you would like that, wouldn't you?" he asked with false cheer. "Sadly, I'm just as much in this little group as the rest of you, unless you suddenly found someone who can pick locks better than I can?"
He gave a little grin as she huffed and looked away. He'd already popped open several doors and chests for them with the same ease as cracking his knuckles, a skill he knew for a fact no one else in camp possessed. As annoying as the little goody two shoes act was, he'd rather put up with it than be alone.
"You both do look rather young," he noted. "Green really. Have you ever actually gone out from the Gate before on your own? How old even are you two?"
"Old enough to know a conman when I see one," she replied curtly before stomping off.
"Okay then, ta ta," he said with a wave and a grin before he settled down among his pillows and a book he'd borrowed from Gale, and by borrowed he meant swiped without permission and then refused to give it back when asked about it.
Truth be told, he was restless that night. Even as everyone else slept, he felt sick with hunger. The animals of the forest were larger and healthier than the vermin he'd been forced to consume by Cazador but he wasn't satisfied. The boar had been his biggest kill so far and he'd gorged himself on it the night before, yet he hadn't truly been satisfied. The spawn couldn't help but wonder about his master's orders. If he could ignore the drive to go back to him and be by his side, could he ignore the other rules too? Could he now drink from thinking creatures?
It was late in the night when he finally decided to risk it, all of his companions deep in sleep. Astarion was naturally stealthy and quick. With the right target, he could get a taste and then slip right back into his tent, no issues or questions asked.
Though, who to pick? Shadowheart and Wyll were both right out. He didn't think a cleric with a less than friendly personality would be wise to risk the ire of, nor a monster hunter. He glanced over at Evelyn and quickly rethought it. She was already suspicious of him. If she woke up with pain in her throat she'd surely demand to know why Astarion hadn't kept proper watch and might try to use it as an excuse to convince her sister to leave him behind. Gale might be an option but then he groaned a bit and rolled over in his sleep, making the vampire pause. He seemed a bit restless, unlikely to sleep through a bite.
That left Lavare by process of elimination.
Truth be told, he had the same feelings about her as he did Wyll and Shadowheart. She was a paladin. Her kind were practically tailor made to slaughter undead like him. Still… she was a rather empathetic young woman. He could probably weasel his way out of trouble if he were caught. It's not like he would even need to tell a fib of woe to her, since the truth was a rather pathetic tale in the first place. It was a safe bet she'd feel sorry enough for him to allow him to stay in the group.
Decision made, he crept closer and closer to her, starting to actually salivate at the idea of drinking from her throat. His steps were careful, as silent as he could be as he knelt down next to her and opened his mouth to feed.
Only for her eyes to snap open and stare up at him, looking just as shocked as he felt.
"Shit," he cursed before she scrambled up to get away from him. "No, no. I wasn't going to hurt you! I just needed… well, blood."
"Wait… that boar. You were the one who killed it," she realized.
"It's not what you think," he attempted to explain quickly. "I'm not some monster. I feed on animals, bears, dears, kobolds. Whatever I can get. It's not enough though, not if I'm going to be able to fight. I feel so weak."
He saw the caution in her eyes waver a little, leaving way for pity. He decided to push his luck, seeing what he could get out of her. She wasn't going for a weapon or screaming to alert the others so he probably didn't have to fear for his life, and maybe he could have a little blood after all.
"If I just had a little blood I could think clearer, fight better," he said truthfully. "Please?"
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked him, her tone tender, as if she were trying to understand all of this.
"At best I was sure you'd say no, more likely ram a stake through my ribs," he said with a shake of his head. "No, I needed you to trust me, and you can trust me."
With anyone else, he was sure this wouldn't work. Who'd trust a man who admitted to keeping things from her and had tried to attack her in the middle of the night, even if it hadn't been with the intention to kill? Still, her expression softened and she smiled, and Astarion knew right then he'd successfully snared her.
"I do," Lavare assured him. "I believe you."
"Thank you. Do you think you could trust me, just a little further? I only need a taste, I swear."
To her credit, she did seem to hesitate for a moment. It was a big ask for anyone to allow a vampire to bite them, but she eventually nodded.
"As long as it's only a taste," she agreed.
"Of course, only a bite," he assured her as he approached, gently taking her arms to ease her back down onto her bedroll. "Let's get you comfortable. I promise it'll be over before you know it."
She laid down and allowed him to loom over her, her breath quickening even before he'd touched her. He carefully pushed her hair away, his touches gentle and soothing as he hushed her.
"Relax. It will be fine," he breathed in her ear. Years of lovers, many of them virginal and shy flitted through his memories. They'd been sweet and withdrawn and he'd opened them up with the same care he now showed her, practice and refined after so many years. It was probably the last act of kindness they'd ever received before Cazador had slaughtered them to feed, no doubt tearing them apart in his lust for agony and torment. She reminded him so much of them, too much, in fact. He had to push the thoughts away, idly worried about the worm giving up his thoughts to her once again.
His teeth sank down into her neck, the flesh giving way easily to his pointed fangs. She gave a soft gasp that she stifled just as fast, and he would have called her a good girl if his mouth wasn't full of her blood.
Oh, but she tasted divine, and wasn't that ironic? It was sweet and ripe, almost like the strawberries he vaguely remembered snacking on when he'd been alive. They'd always been juicy, bursting when he'd bit into them and making him lick his lips after each one. Her blood was thicker than the juice but so very, very good. He felt her hand raise up and grab his shirt, bunching the material in between his fingers.
"Astarion..." she breathed.
No, no, not yet. Just a little bit more. It tasted so good… she tasted so good. He took another gulp greedily, then another. Gods above, he could feel her life inside of him, the pulse of her heart as it began to speed up. It would slow first before she lost her life. There was still plenty more she could give him before it became dangerous.
"Astarion, that's enough," she gasped out, pushing at his chest a bit. It wasn't really strong enough to force him, seemed more to catch his attention, but it worked. The vampire came back to himself and drew away, panting just as hard as she was.
"Oh… of course. That… that was amazing. My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel… happy..."
The last word slipped out from his lips without him even meaning it to. He did feel happy, a sensation he hadn't experienced in… He didn't even remember the last time it had been. Was this why Cazador never let him feed? It surely hadn't been because the monster cared about sparing anyone's life, that was for sure. Had he'd been forced to stick to animals simply because Cazador wouldn't even allow him a moment of bliss that he knew would come from feeding on proper blood?
"Are you alright?" Lavare asked him and he fought the urge to scoff at her softness. If anything, he should probably be asking her that.
"Believe me, I'm much better than I was a while ago. You were… amazing," he admitted. In fact, he was already longing for another bite. It hadn't been enough blood to fill him, but he really had mean it when he'd said he'd had no intention of harming her. She was handier in a battle than she was as a single meal. "Now, if you'll excuse me, you're invigorating but I need something more filling."
He turned to walk away before feeling he should show some proper gratitude, that she could see just what she'd really given him.
"This is a gift, you know. I won't forget it," he promised her, looking at her confused face, almost seeming lost in the moment of what had happened. He figured he should let her sort through her thoughts on her own and left, off to find a meal that would sate his hunger in volume if not in taste.
Finding a den of rabbits led to to a better meal, able to snatch a few of them out of their holes and drain them. It wasn't as good, but he doubted anything in this forest would be.
When he came back to the camp, she was laying down with her eyes closed, but he found himself doubting she was asleep. He almost went to talk to her before thinking better of it and laying down as well. It wasn't until morning did he allow himself to approach her, watching her wash away the dried blood from her neck in a stream.
"How are you feeling?" he asked her.
"Fine. A little woozy," she admitted to him.
"That'll pass. Just be glad I'm not a true vampire otherwise you might be waking up as a spawn like yours truly," he said. "All of the vampire's hunger but few of his powers."
"Is that why you can walk around in the sun, because you're not a true vampire?" she asked him curiously.
"Oh no, I should be cinders by now. I haven't seen the sun for nearly two hundred years," he admitted. "There are several limits I once had that no longer seem to apply, crossing running water, walking into homes uninvited, all perfectly mundane things for me now. Someone or something has changed the rules."
"Well, if you need any further help, just let me know," she assured him with a smile that he didn't want to admit made his heart lurch a bit. Such a kind heart, given out so freely, he supposed he really shouldn't be surprised she'd offer him help so easily too.
Then again, doing it for everyone hardly made him special, he reminded himself firmly.
It wasn't the end of the issue though. The second Evelyn saw her younger sister with two holes in her neck, she was on the girl in a second to look her over, demanding to know what happened. Before he could even think of a lie to cover for the two of them, the girl just gave him up.
"Turns out the vampire that got the boar was Astarion," the paladin explained. He gaped at her for being so clueless to just spill his secret like that, but before Evelyn could lung at him, the paladin quickly got between the two of them. "Wait, wait. He's perfectly safe! I promise!"
"You promise?! He bit you!" the sorceress pointed out.
"He asked if it was okay. He needs to feed on blood or he gets weak," she assured the group as they got in close, some curious about the commotion and some of them eyeing the vampire with anger. Astarion wasn't sure if she was skipping the part about him accidentally waking her to save time or finally being pragmatic about the situation he was in and trying to make him look as good as possible. "I allowed him to bite me, just a little, and we're both perfectly fine. I promise he's not a danger to us."
"A powerful hunger can be difficult to deal with. As long as he's asking, I don't see the harm," Gale admitted. Astarion was surprised, not expecting the support from the wizard, but more than willing to accept it. "But a word of warning, my friend. I taste absolutely awful."
"Yes, yes. No worries. I won't bite a neck of the people here without permission," he assured them all. "Anyone who does feel my fangs will be the ones were already planning to kill, bandits and the like. Fair?"
"We're all potential monsters in the making anyway," Shadowheart supplied. "Besides, if we send him away there's nothing to stop him from following us anyway. I'd much rather have him close by where I can keep an eye on him."
"For once, I agreed," Lae'zel said. "But if I find a drop of blood on my neck, I run him through with my blade."
It seemed more or less settled, and Astarion allowed himself to breathe easier. He supposed it was better this way in the long run. He didn't know how much longer he would have been able to keep it a secret anyway, and no one was attacking him, though Wyll and Evelyn seemed bitter about it, he didn't figure either of them were going to risk outing themselves from the group by forcing the issue. He'd have to play nice to keep them from pushing it further later but it was, as they said, a done deal.
Feeling a little more at ease about the whole situation, he went off to get dressed and ready for the day. He stiffened at his tent at feeling eyes on him and turned to see Lavare standing there, staring at him.
"Yes?" he asked her.
"If you need more later, just let me know," she assured him. Reaching out, she took his hand and gently squeezed it in her own. "You're among friends here, I promise."
He watched her walk off to collect her things as well, a little stunned. He glanced down at his hand, it feeling oddly warm, and flexed his fingers almost experimentally. After a moment, he scoffed and put it out of his mind. She was soft, that much he knew already, and it meant she'd be easy to use. There was nothing particularly special about her. In fact, if he'd met her back in the city he either would have just fed her to Cazador or ignored her entirely. It was only the mind flayers bringing them together that had them even traveling together.
The young woman was simply lucky that he had more use for her alive than dead. Nothing more. If his heart felt a little lighter this morning then it was simply because of the blood now in his system.
The fact she'd been kind enough to offer it had nothing to do with it.
Notes:
Well, there you have it. The first chapter. I do so hope you enjoyed it. It was fun to get into Astarion's head. The POV's will be shifting around as I get to them, but I did enjoy writing him. Gale's actually my favorite out of all the origin characters, but the elf is so sad and tragic that I can't help but feel for the guy.
Lavare wasn't the first character I made for Baldur's Gate, but she's the first one I actually tried to really roleplay with. My first was admittedly just a fighter that I tried to just make as effective as possible in combat because I was playing that run with my friend and I didn't want to drag him down by being shit in combat. Incidentally we always play the combo of him being a wizard while I'm his fighter bodyguard, keeping him safe until he's strong enough to cast fireball on his own. Lavare though was my attempt to play on my own and she certainly developed a personality very quickly.
I was tickled pink by her base stat as a paladin being a freaking 8 in intelligence and only slightly better in wisdom at a 10. Obviously the numbers can be moved around as you wish, but I left it alone to play the cards I was dealt and it left me with this girl that I loved imagining as someone with a heart of gold but more than a little daft. She's not that smart and not very wise. Seriously, an 8 is Minsc level intelligence, though funnily enough he's got a 15 in wisdom. Probably because he listens to his space hamster so often and we can all agree Boo is the wisest in all the realm. Lavare on the other hand is not known to make the most shrewd decisions. Good decisions of course, but she's certainly not the 'look out for yourself' kind of character. Evelyn most certainly is, but I'll be getting more into her story later.
I'll either be focusing on Evelyn in the next chapter, or I'll take the time to introduce Karlach and my Dark Urge. Do you guys have a preference of which comes first?
By all means, let me know what you think of the story in a review. I would really love that.
Chapter 2: Out of the Fire and into the Frying Pan
Notes:
Ahh, on to the next chapter. I ended up deciding to go with the Dark Urge next since it felt more fitting in moving the plot along. No worries though. A chapter focusing on Evelyn will be following after that.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Fire and pain. If Karlach had to pick two words to describe her life it would definitely be those two. Nice, short and simple, to the point. Four letter words were often pretty apt at describing things. Pain would have fit as well though, as well as a good old hearty fuck.
Not that Karlach liked to complain. She was of the opinion that it didn't do much good to dwell on the bad. It didn't make things better. In fact, it often made a situation feel worse, like a black pit just wanting to swallow you down the more you let yourself touch it. Depression was like tar or oil or the like, nasty stuff that shouldn't be messed with unless you wanted it to drag you down.
And if there was anything the woman wanted, it was to avoid being drug down. Her life was pretty hectic and utterly awful, but she knew if she didn't fight to keep her spirits up then it would only make her miserable and that wouldn't do anyone any good, least of all her.
All her years in the hells, fighting, trying to survive, hoping for a way to escape. She made herself useful so she didn't get beaten down and always did her best to keep her eyes peeled for any chance she could get to skedaddle when the chance arouse. When she'd been younger, she'd prayed for angels to save her, to fly down with fluffy wings and soft light and lift her right out of the bad place.
A flying space ship that reminded her of the seafood she had sometimes ate at Baldur's Gate wasn't what she'd been planning on, but she'd take what she could get. It had all been pure chaos on that ship and maybe getting slapped with some large tentacle and transported into a tube hadn't been her finest moment, but it had been a long day as it was getting chased around by some guy proclaiming him the Blade of Frontiers, so she was kind of worn out.
Still, it was all's well that had ended well. She didn't remember the crash exactly, but when she'd woken up to find herself in a clearing by a small stream, she had nearly whooped for joy and spent five minutes just dancing there. She was out of the hells, away from Avernus and oh boy, was it good to see green grass and clear water again!
Her joy hadn't lasted long. She didn't know how long she'd been out of it, but apparently Zariel had already noticed her escape and had seen to it that she needed to be taken care of. A short walk had led her to what looked to be some kind of trade house or toll road when none other than pretender paladins had blocked her way. She hadn't been a fan of the odds of a six on one fight, but she'd be damned before she was going to allow herself to get drug back to Avernus. It had led to a bad brawl, her heart overclocking and consuming her in fire as she swung her ax at any who dared get too close, determined to at least hurt the bastards as much as possible before she got killed. One went down on her first strike and her flames easily roasted another one, but she was slowing down considerable and found herself getting knocked to the ground by a spell.
Apparently luck was really looking out for her that day because all the fire seemed to have attracted a small herd of gnolls, all too happy to join into the fray and rip and tear at anything they got close to. Anders, the coward that the fallen paladin was, called a retreat as they fought back with their lives against the monsters, barricading themselves in the toll house and Karlach was able to get away to safety herself by scampering back down the river. She had to wrestle the last gnoll down in the water to drown it, but she was at least still alive.
Though… not for long if it kept up like this. She was outnumbered and she didn't feel as strong as she used to. It was like her limbs were numb, made of lead, and not just with the metal already in her body. Why was she so damn sluggish? Maybe it was because she had left Avernus? Did shifting planes make one sick or something? Honestly, when she'd been sold off by Gortash and found herself in the hells, she'd felt pretty sick to her stomach then. She'd always thought it had been because of feelings of betrayal but maybe it was more physical than emotional. Maybe it was some kind of weird… rift-like motion sickness or something.
Whatever it was, unless it passed in the next few minutes, she had a feeling she was screwed.
There was no way she could sneak off. The barbarian could see through the trees that were providing cover that someone was on a balcony keeping watch. She was hidden down here pretty well, but if she left the cover of the forest leaves then she'd be spotted fast enough. While they had gotten hurt in the fight, she was pretty banged up too and she didn't think her odds had improved much. Still, if she just sat here then they'd eventually be brave enough to come after her.
Her strategy with fights often came down to tear apart whoever was bothering her, sometimes a little more complicated than that but not by much. Such a simple plan wasn't going to cut it at the moment though. All of a sudden, she almost wished for the angry reds of Avernus. At least there it had been easier to sneak around in with her complexion. Frustration built up in her, wondering if she had really been lucky enough to finally get her freedom only to immediately lose it before even an hour had passed her by.
Just as she was about to scream to the high heavens about the unfairness of it all, something caught her eye. Startled, she saw a body floating down her way in the river, face down but with a tail between the legs showing her it was probably a fellow tiefling.
"Oh damn, oh crap," she said, quickly grabbing a large stick to catch the body. Even in water, she didn't dare touch anyone with her bare hands. Luckily, it was enough leverage to flip the tiefling over to the shore and onto her back so Karlach could examine her properly.
She was sickly pale, and not just because of the water. Despite being hell-touched, she was an albino, not the usual red their people often were. With black horns tipped in red and hair as white as her skin, she almost looked like a corpse. The rags she was dressed in didn't help with the assumption either, just leathers that barely covered her chest and hips in a mockery of a shirt and skirt, and a collar strapped tightly around her thin throat. The gal didn't even have shoes, instead her legs wrapped up in bandages. If there was anything that would say poor refuge in trouble, it'd be this outfit.
"Oh hells, now where did you come from?" Karlach asked aloud as she looked around a bit. She hesitated, knowing she really should try to help this woman but not wanting to burn her up either. Tieflings were naturally resistant to fire but nothing so far had been able to withstand Karlach's flames. She wasn't about to risk someone else's life with experimenting now.
Pulling her arm-wrap and leather straps off, she did her best to cover her fingers so she could prod the stranger properly. A finger under the nose told Karlach she was breathing at least, so that was good.
"Can't give you mouth-to-mouth, I'm afraid," she said as she propped the woman to a sitting up position and slapped her heartily on the back. It took a couple tries, but it did the trick, the other tiefling woman suddenly coughing up water and spasming violently. "Whoa there. Hey, you okay?"
The stranger bent over, coughing up more water, heaving it out. It took a while for her to be done, a less than pleasant sight as she nearly vomited from the force of it. Between the water, she gasped for air, struggling to breathe even as she coughed and convulsed. Karlach would have liked to help, but she'd already pushed their luck as it was by touching her at all, covered hands or not.
Finally, it seemed to be over and the stranger clutched at her chest as she breathed. Looking around in confusion, she stared up at Karlach, seeming frozen to the spot.
"Hey," she said, trying to keep her tone gentle. "It's okay. Sorry I couldn't wake you more gently. I thought you'd drowned or something."
"Drowned?" the other woman asked, looking to the water with just as much confusion.
"How'd you get here?" she asked her before her mind lurched with the most painful headache she'd ever had. It felt like her brain was literally being tugged out, trying to burst though her head to be free. She saw blood, heard screams, felt something sharp driving into the back of her skull…
Then it was all over, and she was herself again, plain old Karlach on a small riverbed looking at a tiefling that seemed terrified out of her mind.
"What… what was that?" Karlach gasped out.
"Nnngh… worm… tadpole… mind flayer..." the tiefling gasped, holding her head with both her hands. "Don't… don't remember… on ship..."
Oh hells, Karlach had heard of mind flayers of course. They made proper boogie men for any scary tale. That ship must have been a nautiloid then. Talk about a dangerous escape. Still, even if she had known what had been waiting for her on that ship, she still would have jumped on it the second she had a chance.
"You look pretty out of it. Try not to strain yourself," she said to the woman. "My name is Karlach. What's yours?"
The smaller tiefling hesitated for a moment before shaking her head again.
"This one… does not… remember," she admitted.
"This one?" Karlach asked. "Funny way to talk, huh? So, no name at all?"
"Urge… need… drive… a desire..." she breathed out. "A dark urge… no… The Dark Urge."
Was that supposed to be a joke? Maybe it was one of those… what was the word, epitaphs or epithets or something like that? She'd heard of adventurers that liked to go by titles and the like to appear more macho and badass. Something like The Dark Urge seemed right up that alley, though perhaps a bit on the nose and maybe felt a bit like the tiefling might be trying too hard. Mmm, maybe it was more intimidating when said more confidently and the person in question wasn't dripping like a drowned rat. Karlach doubted she herself would have cut much of a figure in those kinds of conditions either if she were to be perfectly honest.
"Well, let's try something else. Where are you from?" she prodded, but the tiefling only looked utterly lost. "Ah, shit. Okay, do you remember anything?"
"This one… remembers, being on the ship… demons fighting mind flayers… nothing else," she admitted slowly.
"Huh, not much to go on. Hey, maybe you're from Elturel! A whole city got drug down to Avernus, lots of tieflings like us where there. Maybe you were one of them. Guess that might explain any memory loss. I think anyone who went through that would have the right to be spooked," Karlach guessed. "Tell you what, why don't you stay with me until we figure out what's going on? Don't think my conscious would sit easy leaving you all alone. You'd be like a babe in the woods all by yourself in this condition."
"Ahhh, this one thanks you," she said as she stood up. "Very well."
"Actually… that does give me an idea," Karlach admitted. "Now don't think I suggested sticking together to get something out of you, but I don't suppose you happen to know how to handle yourself in a fight?"
The tielfling looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers for a moment as if this was her first time seeing them before slowly closing them in fists and she nodded her head as a grin slowly spread over her lips.
"Oh yes… this one fights," she purred, suddenly seeming much less scared and a lot more lively. If Karlach hadn't spent literally the last decade of her life among demons and devils, she might have taken it as a bad sign, but frankly such things were kind of mundane to her at this stage of her life.
"Fuck yeah. Good enough for me. I've got some people up in that building that are trying to hunt me down," she explained. "A false paladin of Tyr who's actually working for Zariel, nasty hell bitch from Avernus if you don't know the name. We need to get rid of 'em. We kill them, grab some supplies and then figure out what to do from there. Sounds good?"
"Zariel?" she asked in confusion. "Of the Blood Wars?"
"Yeah, I was… I guess you could say conscripted against my will," Karlach explained, glad to see this woman seemed to remember some stuff. That would make it all a lot easier. "To explain briefly, I was a soldier of hers in Avernus. Not that I wanted to be. I was forced into it. I saw the ship and I booked it as fast as my legs would carry me, nearly didn't make it either. My escape didn't even last a day though and I was chased down. I killed a couple and hurt others, but they're still up there and I'm outnumbered. I could really use some help killing some evil sons a bitches."
Her newfound companion nodded her head, seeming happy with the idea.
Karlach made her wait a moment to check her out to see if she was really alright, though oddly enough she seemed even more eager to kill the group than even Karlach was, bristling and eager to get moving. Had to be some suppressed memory or something. The larger tiefling woman was willing to bet someone or something had hurt her bad in the hells when she'd gotten there, something not very nice at all. Not that it was a surprise. Kindness was a rarity there.
Sneaking up the path, Karlach waited for the one keeping watch to turn around before getting up under the toll house, sticking close to the rocky formation of the area to get inside. She blinked when she realized the other one wasn't following her once they reached the bridge and glanced around.
The Dark Urge… okay, she was going to have to figure out another name for her because it still sounded stupid, was just standing there. The woman was looking at the gore in the road, red and crimson in its fresh state. Her eyes were transfixed on the mess, seeming to tremble as she looked out on the limbs and guts strewn about that had been the gnolls as well as the unfortunate bastards that had not been able to fight the beasts off. Something in her eyes made it seem like she wasn't quite there, and her breathing became quick and shallow.
"Hey," Karlach whispered to her sharply. "Hey, are you okay?"
Shit, had she drug a civilian into this? She'd said she could fight but… Maybe she wasn't used to this kind of thing? The time being a bodyguard for Gortash had gotten Karlach pretty used to violence, and the years in Avernus had made it so every horror and terror that someone could dream of had gotten up close and personal with her in a brawl at least once. This poor woman had probably just been some local militia for Elturel or something, nothing hardcore and bloody.
"Soldier," she said as she approached the woman. "Soldier, look at me."
She was just about ready to risk grabbing her when her gaze snapped up to meet Karlach's.
"There's so much blood," she breathed.
"Yeah, yeah there is," she replied. "Look, if you can't do this, it's fine. I'll take care of it. You just find somewhere safe to hold up and I swear to anyone who's listening that I will get you somewhere safe. Okay?"
The Dark Urge moved to glance back at the blood but Karlach snapped her fingers in front of her face to get her attention back on here.
"Hey! No, look at me," she ordered. "Look at me, not that. Okay? It's going to be fine. Everything will be fine. You just hide and wait for me."
The smaller tiefling covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath before shaking her head.
"No… this one will help you. You saved her," she whispered. "Please. Lead the way."
"You sure? Cause you don't have to."
"This one is sure," she replied with a nod of her head.
Karlach really hoped that she didn't regret this. Whatever had happened to this poor woman had clearly fucked her up, but they didn't have the time to worry about it. Maybe when they were in the free and clear she could help the woman unpack her shit but it was going to have to wait. For now, the best way to get out of here safely was to put Anders in the ground.
She just hoped the violence wouldn't mess with the other tiefling too badly.
Getting to the door, she threw it open with The Dark Urge not far behind her. Anders saw the pair and his eyes narrowed for a moment before widening as if in fear. It was utterly comical that he thought he looked meek in any way, but Karlach had spent years seeing slime for what it was.
"Please, no more! Leave us in peace and we'll leave you in kind," he said, looking to the other tiefling. Probably trying to garner sympathy, the lying bastard.
"Cut the crap, Anders. She already knows what you are," she spat out.
"Don't let her hurt us, please! We just want to go home," he insisted.
The Dark Urge looked at him closely, tilting her head to the side and sniffing the air as if she were trying to smell if he were lying.
"You fear… but not her," she hissed, her fists clenching. "Zariel? Your master? You fear her?"
The fallen paladin looked like for a moment he was going to try lying again, but just snorted and shook his head.
"Enough. Enough, I'll not play pretend anymore. Karlach, you're going home in pieces if you must," he threatened before turning to the other one. "And you. You'll soon what it means to ally yourself with-"
That was as far as he got before the tiefling launched herself at him with a shriek. It certainly caught Karlach off guard, but that was nothing compared to the man as she grappled his torso and punched him twice in the throat. They crashed to the ground together but Karlach had to swing her battle ax down on the other fighter with Anders, too distracted by the fight she had on her hand to help her ally.
An arrow shot past between them, catching Karlach in the shoulder. Taking down her current opponent, she pointed up to the walkway.
"Get that one up there!" she barked. "There's a mage in the next room I gotta take out!"
The Dark Urge had been beating Anders in the face over and over again, his brain matter clinging to her fists as she been punching his head into the floor. Snarling like a beast, she vaulted herself at the edge of the walkway and pulled herself up quickly, doing a somersault to catch the one with the bow in the chest. Feeling the woman had it well in hand, Karlach burst in through the doorway to the back just as the wizard looked ready to cast her spell, catching her by the throat and slamming her face-first into the wall. Best and fastest way she'd ever learned to deal with magic-types was to break their jaws. Almost always kept them from casting anything worthwhile.
Anger began to swell in her once the fight was over. This was such fucking bullshit! She hadn't even been free for a day and the hells were trying to drag her back? No way! No way would she ever let that happen, not for anything!
"Karlach… You are okay?" The Dark Urge asked as she approached, her hands dyed red from the fight.
"Fuck them," she bit out. "Fuck Zariel. I won't go back. I'm never going back."
She felt the heat starting to take her, angry and hot just like her, burning with an intensity she had never felt in the planes of the nine hells. If she were more focused, it might have concerned her. The seemingly scared woman suddenly going fucking crazy on Anders might have concerned her. A bug in her brain might have concerned her. But all of that fell to the wayside as she just felt hate and fury bursting out from her as her mechanical heart churned inside of her chest.
"If any of mummy's little helpers want to pick up where the others left off… they'll find nothing but a pile of ash," she snarled.
"Zariel won't get near you again," The Dark Urge promised. "This one will make sure of that. She owes you her life."
The sentiment was sweet, but not enough to cool Karlach's rage. Still, mixed in with it was elation. She had a friend now, she wasn't alone, and they'd clearly proven that together they could handle the fallen bitch's petty minions.
"Zarriel's gotta stop fucking with me, you know? I'm done with it! I'm done with her! I'm free. I'm FREE!"
She began to laugh and lost herself in the moment, smashing everything she could find in sight. For a moment the Dark Urge looked surprised before laughing as well and snatching things to rip them apart. She grabbed a candelabrum and hefted it over her head, cackling as she beat it down over one of the already dead bodies while Karlach smashed barrels and boxes, tearing apart bookshelves as fire took over the wooden furniture and caught it like kindling.
Once the smoke got to be too much they both had to leave the toll house. It wouldn't burn completely down due to the stone walls, but it looked bad enough that it would be a clear sign to any that would come across it that it wasn't worth coming after the two of them.
"Phew," she breathed to the Dark Urge. "Had to let off some steam after facing off against those ignots. One of the few benefits of being in the hells… or a curse really. My metal heart, an infernal engine, charges me up in fights. Damn dangerous, as you can see. Granted, the fire lasted a little longer than it should. How do I look?"
The Dark Urge peered at her hard for a moment.
"Hot," she replied bluntly, causing Karlach to bark in laughter.
"Careful, soldier. If I burn any hotter, I might explode," she teased before sobering up. "Are you okay, by the way? You looked pretty intense in that fight. Gotta admit, wasn't expecting all that from you. No offense, but when I saw you freeze up, I was figuring you might be some dead weight. Not that I wouldn't have still helped you, mind. I'm plenty strong enough to carry you around if need be."
"It… it came over this one," she admitted slowly, rubbing her fingers together and smearing the blood between the digits slowly. "The body moved on its own. This one did not think, just acted. But… when it started… it felt good. It felt… glorious. This one could not… did not want to stop."
"Well, good thing there was more than just Anders to take on then," she chuckled. "Believe me, where I've been the last decade, I know all about battle frenzy. I'd say be careful about what emotional reactions you have and when, but I'm the last fucking person to talk about keeping calm in a fight."
"This one thanks you," she said sincerely. "Any help she can give you, she will. This one swears."
"Hey, hey, don't get all dramatic on me. Fishing you out of the water was just the right thing to do. I'd have done it even if you were missing three limbs and had to hop along to follow me to safety, Dark Urge. Ugh… you know what, I'm sorry but whoever picked out that name for you was an idiot, and that includes you," Karlach joked. "I guess I could just call you soldier but… meh, kind of feels like you need a proper name."
"The Dark Urge is what this one is. No more, no less," she replied.
"Yeah? How do you know?" Karlach asked as she rapped her fist on her own head. "You got nothing swimming around up in there, soldier, except that tadpole. You got no idea who you are. Could be royalty for all we know, or some poor sod works as a bouncer in a shady bar, or anything in between. Mmm, tell you what, I'll compromise with you. Call you Durge. Sounds way less, 'Ooooh, look at me, I'm all dangerous and dark and the type to scare people into pissing themselves.' That work for you?"
The albino tiefling narrowed her eyes at Karlach's surmising of her name but eventually nodded her head.
"Durge will work," she replied, though her tone was admittedly somewhat reluctant.
"Trust me, you'll get a lot less funny looks that way. People with titles instead of names just sound like asshats. Best just to keep it simple," she stated. "Anyway, we still need supplies and a place to sleep for the night. It's getting kind of late. Might as well bunk here, I guess."
Durge looked over at the building, still smoking, and glanced back at Karlach with a raised eyebrow.
"Okay, okay. Maybe burning the place was a bit overboard looking back, but I'm sure it's got a basement. Better than just laying down in the dirt. Besides, I still… oh fuck! I still got this damn arrow in my arm!"
With everything else she'd forgotten about it, and now the wooden shaft sticking had smoldered from her flames. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, she suddenly noticed the pain again. Damn, she should have gotten it out before losing her temper.
Durge stepped forward and placed a hand on Karlach's arm before yanking it back, hissing as she burned the tips of her fingers.
"Yeah, thanks for the offer of help, but I'd better take this out myself," she said. "Don't worry. I got plenty of experience cleaning up my own wounds. You don't want to let demons or devils near you when you're injured. Sadistic freaks, the lot of them."
The other tiefling gave her an odd look at that before she broke the eye contact and looked down at the ground.
"Sounds awful," she admitted softly.
"Trust me, it was," Karlach agreed. "Look, why don't you get something for dinner gathered up and I'll go down to the stream and clean this out. I'll be back before you know it, okay?"
Durge nodded and left to try to find another entrance that wasn't currently smoking up while Karlach saw to her arm. The shaft was too fragile from the fire to just yank out, smoldering a bit itself. She had to dig out her knife and bit her lip to brace herself for the pain before slicing into her skin just enough to expose a part of the shaft that hadn't been burned, luckily still solid and wouldn't crumble at a touch.
"Okay, on three," she breathed as she gripped the wood in her forefinger and thumb. "One, two, three!"
Giving a swift yank, she was lucky able to pull it through cleanly, groaning in satisfaction when it came out without issue. Thank the gods. Last thing she wanted to worry about was splinters inside of her. Bad enough with the parts of metal from her engine. She didn't need to start adding other bits and bobs to the list.
Washing out the wound as best she could in the cold water and then wrapping it, she headed back to the toll house. Sure enough, there was a basement along with sacks upon sacks of food, some gold laying around, and a few backpacks and bedrolls.
"Ah, we hit the jackpot," she said happily, the modest score like a king's bounty compared to what she was used to. "Good work, soldier. I hope there's something really filling in there. I'm starving."
The two ended up sharing meats and hardtack, along with some apples and a whole watermelon that Karlach burst open with her hands. A bottle of cider was split between the two of them as they relaxed around a fireplace. Karlach herself didn't have to worry about keeping warm, but poor Durge was still dripping wet from her dip in the river.
"Don't suppose you happen to know the tale behind that collar?" she asked as Durge unbound her hair from its bun to wring out as much water as she could. "Doesn't look much like a fashion accessory."
The other tiefling looked confused and a bit anxious as she put a hand to her own throat, feeling at the leather and metal clasped around her pale skin. Fiddling with it, her eyes widened when she didn't seem able to pop it off. It only took a moment for her to grab it with both of her hands and yank at it roughly, growling in distress when it didn't budge.
"Hey, hey. Come on, now. You're going to hurt yourself," Karlach insisted as she tried to get her to stop. Once again, not being able to touch Durge was presenting itself as a problem. She couldn't just grab her and make her quit it, but the stranger's reactions were hardly measured responses. "Let me look. Maybe I can help out."
Durge hesitated a moment before nodding her head, her hands dropping down to her side as Karlach scooted closer to take a look.
At closer inspection, the item wasn't just simple leather with a buckle like a dog's collar or something. There was a smooth clasp on it, bronze, and there was a good twenty or thirty small holes in it, no bigger than what a needle could go in. It didn't even look like the leather could be cut either, three lines of thick copper embedded in the material. Even if the thick fabric could be done away with, getting the metal off without slicing her throat open looked like it'd be pretty tough.
"The fuck?" Karlach breathed. She'd never seen a lock like that. Was it a special key that was supposed to go on, like a brush but with metal prongs or something, or was it something different? Did you have to poke certain holes in a certain order? She wasn't sure she should mess with it too much, all things considered. It might just be a normal collar or the damn thing could be magically cursed or something. Could blow up Durge's head it was removed for all she knew. "How'd you even get this thing?"
Durge looked lost, her red irises in the black pools of her eyes leaving her utterly bewildered. Karlach couldn't help but notice one of the red spots was smaller than the other, an imperfection that just further added to the woman's very broken appearance.
"Maybe… maybe you wanted to forget," she breathed softly. "Maybe someone hurt you, someone bad. Maybe you forgot to protect yourself."
It wasn't a happy theory, but the evidence wasn't stacking up for a very happy past.
"This one… this one does not know," she breathed. "Still wishes she could know."
"Yeah. Even with all the shit I dealt with in Avernus, I wouldn't want to forget how I got there," she growled out.
"How did you get there?" Durge asked curiously.
"By having two of the world's shittiest bosses," Karlach sighed. "I was sold off by a man I used to work for when I was a teen. A weapons dealer. People like that are always in danger, leading scary lives and he needed protection. I was with him for a while, making good money, and he was real decent to me… at first. Then… I don't know. Maybe I did something wrong or worse maybe yet the job was some kind of trial and I did too good, but he betrayed me and sold me out to Zariel. I was there for ten years."
"That's awful," Durge breathed.
"Yeah. Believe me, I'm happy to be out," she replied. "Almost makes it worth it, knowing how much I can appreciate freedom and fresh air and the sun and shit. Still, if I had my choice, I'd much rather that bastard Gortash hadn't done it."
Durge blinked for a second, before her eyes widened in a near panicked state.
"What?" Karlach asked. "What is it?"
The other tiefling opened her mouth to speak, but instead both of their minds seemed to burst at a sudden memory, their tadpoles connecting them once again.
For a moment, there was white hot rage and anger. Karlach was on the floor, thrashing and angry. Chains and ropes dug into her limbs, keeping her contained even as she tried to fight, and at the end of each rope and chain was someone armored holding on firmly. All wore masks of Bane, cultists, and before Karlach was a man dressed in black and gold finery, the leather collar in hand.
"Come now, my dear, this really is very unbecoming," none other than Enver Gortash spoke before kneeling forward and moving to put the collar on. Karlach thrashed wildly, yanking her neck back as far as she could, but it did no good. The leather was clasped around her throat and clicked into place. "There, not so bad, now is it?"
In reply, she surged forward and headbutted him with all her might, causing him to stumble back, his nose bleeding profusely as he scowled.
"You get one," he replied coolly even as his eyes blazed with anger. "That's it."
Karlach gasped as she was in her own body again, the memory still clinging in her mind like smoke that wouldn't clear out of a room. Durge seemed shaken, clutching her legs to her chest.
"That son of a bitch," Karlach growled. She'd learned after her own sale to Zariel that the man was a slaver, and even when she'd thought he'd been on the up and up, he'd always seemed to work with the finest materials and goods. Shit that she knew didn't come cheap, and what better way to make capital was to steal people at no cost and sell them like cattle?
Had this been what had happened to this girl? Had he captured her, turned her into a slave? Durge was skilled in a fight, but almost wild. Had she been turned into some kind of cage fighter or something? It only made Karlach hate the bastard even more. That fucking evil man! Just how many lives had he broken anyway?
Durge trembled and the larger woman wished she could just reach out and hold her, give her some comfort. Fuck, she was having a right bad time of it, wasn't she? For once, Karlach could see someone more screwed over by life than she was.
"Hey… look, I don't know what happened to you, but I can certainly empathize," she breathed softly. "If there is anyone who gets what that evil piece of garbage is capable of, it's me. You're free now though, that's a good start. I'm sure we can find a settlement or something, get that collar off of you, and we'll figure out who you are, piece by piece. Don't care if it takes me years."
"Why?" Durge asked softly. "Why do all of that for this one?"
"What do you mean why? Why not?" she shot back. "It's only right to help out people who are in trouble, ain't it?"
"Maybe..."
"No, not maybe. People need help, you try to help them," Karlach replied. "Granted, within reason, but kindness should never be a rare commodity. You don't want people taking advantage of you but you don't want to be a cruel bitch either. Don't cost nothing to be decent to people, but it costs people a lot more in the long run to be vindictive."
"Thank you," she breathed softly.
"Don't you mention it, really. You helped me when there wasn't anything in it for you… well, except maybe a good fight. From the looks of things, that might have been reward enough for you," she said with a laugh in her voice, trying to lighten the mood, but Durge only looked uncomfortable. "Right, touchy subject then? I guess enjoying a fight and not liking you enjoyed it is possible. I mean… hells, that might have been why he enslaved you in the first place. Maybe you were a good brawler and he decided to grab you or maybe you were trained because of him. No way to know, but if he's still where he was when I worked for him, than Baldur's Gate might be the way to go. I wouldn't mind dishing out some good old fashion revenge. How about you?"
Durge's lips tugged into a smile, showing her teeth and looking downright wicked in the firelight as she nodded her head.
"Oh yes. Revenge sounds good to this one," she agreed.
"Great! Honestly, I have something I need done in a big city anyway," she admitted. "Probably easier to find than around here. See, I had a mechanic in Avernus that worked on my heart."
She banged on her chest to show what she was talking about.
"Sadly, it's feeling way hotter than it did back in that stinking pit. I need to have it looked at, see if something might be wrong with it. When Anders first attacked me, they mentioned something about another mechanic around, so maybe we're close to an outpost or something. If not, at the very least we can get our bearings and figure out what direction to head in. Sound good to you?"
"Yes. It's a good plan."
"Great! In the meantime, I think we're safe… well, for the exception for the worms in our heads. Honestly, don't know anything about that. I suppose that's a real pressing concern too, though to be honest I've got next to zilch of an idea about how to handle that."
The idea sobered her up that she might be on limited time, running against the clock as it were. Was it possible they might end up dead or worse before even making it to the city?
Well, Karlach was a woman of action more than she was of words or even forethought. Sure, it might have gotten her in a mess here or there but it was better than doing nothing. What was the saying again? As long as you keep moving forward there was no such thing as a mistake? Was that a saying or was she just making something up in her own head? Guess it didn't really matter one way or the other. It was a good point of view one way or the other.
"I think we should get some sleep," she suggested. "We're secure in here from any wild animals or monsters, and you can set our your clothes to dry. By daytime we'll be fresh to go and able to figure out our next steps, mark my words."
"Marked then," Durge replied, a small smile on her lips.
"Heh, glad to see you can have a bit of a sense of humor about these things," she chuckled with a little wink. "I get the feeling you're gonna be a lot of fun traveling with. Anyway, good night. See you in the morning."
She settled into her bedroll as the other woman stripped down to her underwear and laid out her clothing to dry by the fire, laying down and curling up into her own roll. Karlach felt pretty content, all things considered. Okay, so the day hadn't started off the best, but at the very least she'd been able to make herself a friend, and after all those years in Avernus, she was more than willing to accept that in her life again. Someone Karlach could feel comfortable enough to give some trust to would be a very, very good thing in her mind.
Eyes drifting closed, she felt more hopeful about her future than she had in a very long time.
The next morning started slowly. Despite sleeping on the floor of a basement, she was warm and comfy. Even as she felt herself awaken, she kept her eyes firmly closed and did her best not to move so as to not wake herself too quickly. It was best done at a languid pace in her opinion, much more comfortable than a sudden jolt out of unconsciousness.
A strange smell hit her nose and she wrinkled it, the strong odor unfamiliar to her senses. Groaning, she allowed herself to open her eyes and sit up as she rubbed at them.
"What am I smelling?" she groaned, stifling back a yawn.
"Tea," Durge replied, kneeling over by the fire with a kettle in one hand. There were a couple cups in front of her and she was pouring hot water into both. "This one found some on the shelves. The brand is good for waking up."
"Didn't want to be awake," Karlach groaned. "Not yet, anyway."
"Time is moving on, Karlach. We must move soon," Durge replied.
"What time is it, anyway?"
"Near daybreak."
What? Near? As in, it wasn't even technically there yet?
"Oh, piss off," she groaned as she rolled back over and smooshed her face into her pillow. "I want another hour."
"Time is of the essence," Durge reminded her. "Mind flayer tadpoles do not remain dormant."
Durge seemed more talkative now, and much more calm. Maybe a good night's sleep had been able to help her out. She also happened to have a good point, not that Karlach was happy about it. Still, she did sit up.
"I guess we should eat some and get going," she admitted. "Let me have a cup."
Durge handed it over for Karlach to drink, only for her to spit it back out.
"UGH! It tastes like grass!" she complained.
"You know what grass tastes like?" Durge asked with her head tilted to the side.
"I was a very bored kid at times," she replied, still making a face. "Ugh. I think I'll just stick to water or ale, thanks."
Durge nodded and handed over a water skin, Karlach drinking several gulps just to try to get rid of the taste. Well, it had worked in a way. She was certainly awake now.
They ate some of the leftovers from dinner and a lot more fruit before getting together what they could carry in order to head out. Packs on their back, they left the toll house to see about where to go.
"Following the stream will probably be a good idea," the larger woman reasoned. "I'm sure it'll lead to a town or something."
"Very well. This one will follow," Durge agreed and they set off.
While walking, Karlach mostly chatted. Curious about her time in the hells, Durge had asked about the Blood War and Karlach told her about the different kind of demons she would fight and the best tactics to use against them. It was a good way to pass the time if nothing else. Though she avoided mentioning Gortash as best she could. The reaction poor Durge had last time? Karlach was not eager to dig up too much shit for her.
There was trying to remember her past, and then there was just looking for trouble when it wasn't needed. The last thing Karlach wanted to do was cause her any kind of unneeded anguish.
By the time midday rolled around, Karlach was willing to take a bit of a break, smiling at Durge.
"Say we cool off in the water a bit?" she suggested, her friend nodding her head.
Removing her boots, she got into the water with the other tiefling, the cool river easing the heat of her body a bit, though some steam rose around her ankles. Oh well, nothing to do for it. She was just basking in it when she felt herself get splashed in the face. Sputtering in surprise, she saw Durge stooped over, her hands in the water before the albino giggled and splashed her again.
"Oh, want to start something, huh?! You are dead!" she declared in a challenge before splashing water back at her, causing Durge to shriek. "Yeah, see how you like it! Take that! And that!"
Splashing in the water and having a great time of it, it was no wonder they were taken off guard so badly. Seemingly in a moment whole group of people were in front of them at the riverbank, some humans as well as a couple elves and a green woman that Karlach had no idea what she was, weapons drawn and between the two and their packs. Even if the pair made a run for it, they wouldn't get far without supplies or weapons.
Shit.
Then she saw who was at the head of the group, the Blade of Frontiers, she was sure her heart would have sank if weren't permanent fixed in place with rods.
Double shit.
"The Blade of Frontiers," she said cockily, trying to appear confident. Maybe she could pull off intimidating a few of them into backing off. Doubtful with their numbers, but maybe. "Thought I'd shaken you for good after the mind flayer ship. You just can't get enough of me, can you?"
"Karlach," he spat. "Advocatus diaboli. The stink of Avernus."
"Lower your blade, if you know what's good for you," Druge hissed angrily, posed ready to fight. It was sweet gesture, that the woman was willing to stand with her against the odds, bad as they were.
Wasn't sure it would do them much good, but still. Sweet.
However, before anything further could be said, everyone lurched at the tadpoles connected their thoughts. Yet again, Karlach was disoriented into being someone else, seeing Avernus through eyes not her own. She saw herself on the battlefield, running while chopping down any that got in her way, chasing after the nautiloid. It only lasted a moment before the man shook himself to regain control, though he looked a bit shaken. Somehow, she got the feeling he'd gotten a good dose of her memories too.
"Your ally's a fraud, a soldier in the archdevil Zariel's army. Either I cut her down now or she burns the Sword Coast to ash," he insisted.
Karlach was both a little offended he seemed to think she wouldn't be honest with a friend about who she was and a little flattered this guy seemed to think her so strong that she could destroy the Sword Coast all on her wee little lonesome. Kind of gratifying, in a fucked up sort of way.
"I've tried to tell you, I'm not what you think I am!" she insisted.
"By Baldurian's Helm, I will not be tricked!" he snapped aggressively.
"I'm guessing you looked in my head just like I looked into yours," she said, trying to reason with him. "You saw the truth. I may be an effective soldier but I never wanted to serve Zariel. Legged it away from her first chance I got."
"And yet you served," he insisted, but his conviction looked to be wavering, or maybe that was just her being her hopeful self.
Durge stepped between them quickly as the Blade of Frontiers advanced on them into the water, snarling and teeth bared at the human male.
"The only one dying today is Blade of Frontiers," she promised, fists raises and looking ready to launch herself at the whole damn group if she needed to.
"How about we all take a deep breath and calm the fuck down? Just because I want to live doesn't mean I want him dead," she insisted to Durge, really not wanting herself or her new ally to die over something maybe everyone could walk away from. "Remember what I said last night about kindness, soldier? Yeah, this is one of those moments."
"Wyll," one of the other humans said softly, a woman with red and black hair. She was holding a sword but it wasn't at the ready. In fact, a few in the group were looking more than a little uncertain. "Wyll, you said you were looking for a devil. She doesn't seem to be one. You saw it. She's not a monster."
"You don't know what you're saying, Lavare. You're asking me to trust a devil."
"Gods, your stubborn," a pale elf sighed with a roll of his eyes. "Karlach's not a devil and you know it. Usually I'd say it wouldn't matter, but even I'm finding this a bit pointless."
Not a great endorsement, but the tiefling was willing to take it.
"Would you listen to sense?" she pleaded. "This doesn't have to end badly for either of us. You know monsters, right? Better than anyone. Look into my eyes. Can't you see I'm not what you think?"
He stared at her, really stared, and his expression slowly fell to one of horror at what he'd almost done.
"Shit," he cursed. "You really are no devil, are you? I've been deceived."
"Thank the gods. I thought I'd have to take your head," she groaned in relief.
"Heh. You'd have died in the attempt," he said, though he was smiling. "But there's been enough threats today. Truce?"
"Truce," she agreed. "I'm Karlach, and this is Durge."
"The Dark Urge," the albino corrected, still tense before she finally relaxed her body. She didn't stop glaring at Wyll though, and Karlach found herself feeling like a chick being looked after by a very aggressive hen.
"Right, Durge is just a nickname," she chuckled. "So, now that you've met my friend, who are yours?"
As introductions were made all around, Karlach felt an odd sort of warmth in her chest, especially when the half-elf cleric giggled coyly at her while making a comment about her big arms and the wizard eagerly introduced himself only to launch into several about Avernus a mere moment. It wasn't the heat she was used to, instead a soft and comfortable kind.
Some honest to goodness happiness, and as she looked to Durge also interacting even if a bit warily, she found herself desiring her new friend could find some happiness for herself too.
Notes:
Ahhh, Karlach was actually kind of hard to write. No idea why, but this chapter took longer than I thought it would because of it. I don't know if I quite nailed her voice. I'd really, really appreciate some feedback. Also, just the bestie energy I'm going to give these two women has me giggling.
Chapter 3: Can't Live With Them, Can't Live Without Them
Notes:
I'm very happy to have gotten this chapter out sooner than the last one. Unlike Karlach, I found it almost too easy to write Gale. What was supposed to be just a little snippet on his backstory ended up taking up about half the chapter.
I feel like I should make a warning, just for Mystra content. My feelings on Gale's relationship are complicated to say the very least. I'm also willing to examine how unbalanced the relationship could be. I'm leaving it a bit ambiguous on how manipulative it was on her end since this was Gale's POV, but I think it comes across easily that the relationship wasn't healthy. So, warning on that front if such a thing would bother you.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Gale of Waterdeep cut an imposing figure, at least he'd always thought so. Even when he'd been a child, he'd found that he was often around people who were amazed by his talents. He didn't know exactly what moment he'd first discovered the Weave, so young when it had first touched him and he had touched it. He sometimes imagined he'd heard someone calling to him, just around the corner and he'd followed in his innocence before coming across a kind stranger.
Praise for his talents had always accompanied his childhood. His parents had been amazed at what he was capable of, did everything they could to encourage it. Nothing was too much in order to nurture his talents, no book too expensive, no tutor too pricey. Even as he started to see his father less and less as he grew up, his mother never wavered from her spot at his side and was always there with a smile and encouragement.
When none other than Elminster himself had come seeking him out, Gale had felt like it was the most important moment in his life. At only eight-years-old, the powerful wizard had seemed larger than life to him, a bright smile under a bushy beard and twinkling eyes filled with mirth. He'd said he'd heard about Gale and wanted to see his talents for himself.
And then he'd set a bush on fire on accident had cried for the rest of the day, both in disappointment in his lack of control but also the fact he'd destroyed something precious in his attempt to impress someone with his magic. Which, looking back now, might have been a sign of how his life was just destined to turn out.
Gale tried not to be egotistical, he really did. To have hubris was to think too highly of oneself, but to be too modest was just as harmful in his eyes. It was important to know what you were good at, to know you were in fact skilled and the time you poured into your art was worth your own admiration. People who could not see their own beauty that they brought to the world in self-deprecation deserved to be encouraged until it was plain as day for everyone's eyes, including their own.
Still, it was a fine line to walk between thinking too little of his abilities or too much of them. He tried to stay well balanced and adjusted on the matter, he really did, but it never had been exactly easy. After all, he had grown up being told how special he was, how he'd go far, how in his own hands he had the ability to shape his destiny however he wanted to.
And then he'd met Mystra when he'd been a young man, and the day Elminster had first come across him had paled in comparison to her light that he might as well have been walking around in the dark. She was graceful, refined, spoke with a purpose and a force that shook the rafters of his mental fortitude while never raising her voice above a gentle tone. He'd been enraptured immediately, eager to please and fumbling. Luckily for him, she seemed to have found it endearing, and his tutelage under her began with her guidance bringing him to wonders he'd never dreamed of before.
He'd liked his classes just fine in Blackstaff. He'd always been thrilled when Elminster would take him out for a day or week so they could practice out of the city. Impressing his professors with his papers and practical displays of magic had caused him to swell with pride whenever he did something of particular note.
None of it, absolutely none of it, compared to her. He doubled, even tripled his efforts to show off to her, eager for any kind of attention. She was powerful, so powerful, that he could not help but be awed by her. He could not understand how any person could not be. She was like the dawn, peeking over the waters of his home and dazzling him with an inspiration to get his day started with earnest. Nothing was ever too much for her. Even him, who'd been devoted to his studies almost to the point of obsession, found he wanted to do even more. His nights that had once gone on just a few hours of rest became sleepless. His bookshelves of tomes, already crammed full, became surrounded by piles and piles stacked on the floor all around the furniture in question. He'd found delight in learning, but after meeting her he threw himself so into magic that it seemed it was all there was for him.
He was told to slow down, of course. His mother didn't approve, parental concern for her son causing her to push him to rest, to eat more than snacks while pouring over his books. Worry was clear in her eyes, but he'd assured him that he was fine and could handle it.
His mother was a storm in and of herself, fierce and had often brought his overenthusiastic habits to curb, but even she couldn't stand up to a goddess. When he'd collapsed due to lack of sleep, she'd been standing over him when he awoke, furious. He hadn't been able to talk her out of locking his books away or sending a letter to Blackstaff that he would not be attending lessons for a week. He must have told her he was fine one too many times because she'd rounded on him, angry and with tears in her eyes.
"You have no right to do this to your poor mother, not for some goddess! Now you will sleep, you will eat three meals a day, and you will recover or so help me you will not want to see what I will do!"
He'd been utterly offended his mother would speak that way of Mystra, but he hadn't said so. Maybe she'd been right. Maybe he'd been pushing himself too hard. After all, he was young, and one of his personal teachers was over a thousand years old. Clearly, he had time.
Tara agreeing with his mother had synced it. He'd spent that night in his room, feeling utterly stuffed after a hearty meal and asked the tressym if perhaps he hadn't been thinking straight.
She'd only scoffed and licked at her paw, her answer clear. The fact she thought it didn't even need to spoken about was a very distinct indication of where he stood.
He'd gone to sleep that night, more than a little conflicted. On one hand, these were people that were worried about him, but on the other hand, greatness felt like it was just past his finger tips. Surely, he only needed to move a few inches further and close his fist, right?
Perhaps his need for clarity had called her, or it had just been a desire to see her, an unspoken prayer in the quiet of the night.
Mystra had come to him in his dreams. He'd felt he should have explained what was going on, but she'd only shushed him with a press of fingers to his lips.
"I am a mother myself. I understand," she'd assured him, and he'd felt himself quivering from her touch. "We will simply continue our lessons here, as a compromise."
He'd been pretty sure his mother had not wanted him to touch magic at all, but Mystra did make sense. It was a good compromise. He could still learn, could still practice and strive to impress, and he'd be able to rest as well. He should have known such a wise woman would know exactly what to do in order to make all parties involved happy.
Still… he didn't tell his mother about the compromise. He just had the feeling she wouldn't see the wisdom of the idea like he had.
From his teacher and to his muse, he followed after Mystra like a puppy. He gave everything she asked, no request too big for him. When she suggested that he was in fact an adult and they could have their lessons so much better when alone, he'd been all too happy to beg his mother for his trust fund so as to get out into his own space. After all, he was an adult. It was probably time to get his own place.
She hadn't liked the idea. Of course. She hadn't liked any of his ideas in the last few years.
"I would if it were actually your idea," she breathed, looking beaten down. His heart had ached for her, wondering why she was so sad and had told her he'd reconsider the plan, maybe see about getting his own money instead.
"She's just feeling empty nest syndrome. You're her only child," Mystra had explained when he'd brought it up to her, confused and unsure what to do. "It can be difficult to know when the apron cords need to be cut."
"I don't want to hurt her. What should I do?" he'd asked, eager for any kind of direction to take.
"Move out," she said gently. "You have a destiny to take, my dear Gale. Simply visit her often. Show her you are still her son and love her while striving for your independence."
It had been a great idea. All Mystra's ideas were great, so he didn't know why he hadn't thought she'd be able to solve it. There was still the issue of how he'd afford such a thing, but the goddess had helped him with that as well.
Arrangements were made at the temple for him, a stipend for him to afford a townhouse to move into. She showed him spells to make the most of the space, adding floor after floor on the inside of the building without having to move even a single brick or board on the outside. He found he had all the room he could ever possibly need, and at an affordable rate too. With his monthly money from the church and taking commissions for magical consultations and tutoring jobs, he found himself giddy with his own life to do exactly as he pleased.
Tara came with, of course. He couldn't see himself going anywhere without her. Besides, she'd insisted on being able to come anyway. He was all too happy to have her and anyone else over, to let others see what he'd been able to do with the magic he'd learned recently. It was a great way to show off just how much he'd been able to learn lately.
His mother had complimented it, in her own way. Mostly she'd asked him if he needed anything, asked him where he kept certain dishes or his clothing. He allowed her to fuss over how he made his bed and the way his clothes seemed to be wrinkled and asked how he washed it now.
Why, he didn't know. They'd always had a housekeeper to worry about that kind of thing, but he allowed it anyway. Clearly she needed it, and Mystra had insisted he show patience to the woman. Honestly, he would have even if the goddess hadn't told him to. Even moving on with his life, he loved his mother dearly and wanted her to be both proud of him and secure in the idea he would never abandon her, no matter what.
Still, he sent a letter to his father that maybe he really should get home and stay for a while. Loneliness did the Dekarios clan no favors.
And so his life went on like that, excitement around every corner. He'd found his place in the world and found he fit well in it, exceptionally well. It made him feel proud of himself, and hoped desperately that the people who'd helped him along the way felt proud of him too.
He hoped Mystra was proud of him.
He'd always thought of her a lot, but the longer he knew her, the easier it seemed to let his thoughts drift to her. Reading a book, taking a walk downtown, working on his alchemy… even times when he was doing nothing, just leaning on his banister and watching the sun set, he seemed to be filled of her. How could he not be, with how amazing she was?
It's how she'd found him, called to him. He'd been at his favorite spot, feeling happy and content in life, when suddenly he'd found himself in the Weave.
She could seamlessly pull him in, but he usually knew when it was about to happen. It was so sudden that he actually found himself stumbling when his hands were no longer on the solid wood of his terrace, only for light but strong arms to catch around his chest.
"Careful, Gale," a voice like silk breathed into his ear, making him shudder in delight. "Your concentration could use some work."
"I… I wasn't expecting you," he replied, feeling flush with embarrassment at her scolding even though her tone had been playful. He hated disappointing her.
"Were you not? You called me," she replied, circling around him, her hands trailing over him as she came to face him.
"I… I did?" he asked in honest surprise. He didn't think he had. His prayers were most dedicated, never so casual as to just slip past his lips at his home.
"You always call me, Gale. Do you think I can't hear it?" she asked him, her tone playfully chiding. "Or did you think I would ignore your devotion?"
Ignore it? She'd been nothing but giving to him, to have taught him so much. His mind swirled in confusion as she smiled at him and trailed a hand down his cheek.
"I think it's time to really reward you," she'd breathed, leading him through her home. Even to his confused state, it was clearly different this time. Often, she just led and he followed, but her hand never left his, gently pulling him along. They passed her libraries, her pleasure domes, endless halls of the Weave until he found himself in her innermost sanctum.
His breath caught as he saw her bed, large and lush and big enough for ten people to fit in comfortably. She finally let him go but he felt as if he was being pulled along anyway. The back of her knees hit the bed and she gracefully fell back among the silken sheets.
"Chosen one," she breathed as her dress slipped away, beckoning him to come to her. "So shall I name you… if you can impress me."
The display on his part had been… shameful. He'd been eager to please, unsure if it was her body or the promise of power that enticed him more. Maybe it had been both, twisted up in one large mixture of feelings he wasn't sure he'd been prepared to handle. He felt unpracticed and ill-suited to the task, even as he tried his best to do what she wanted of him. He'd been with others before, experimented with fellow students and even a one-night tryst with a lamia he'd met at the Yawning Portal. He wasn't unskilled, yet he felt himself fumble and make mistake after mistake. He tried to kiss her and missed her mouth, squeezed her breast and she'd slapped his hand away and told him to be gentle or not do it at all.
His stamina had been worse than his first time, blushing and rutting desperately with another teen who'd confessed he found Gale cute and wanted to kiss him while in the library over a study session that had gone on too long. By the time it was over, he felt as if he could just die from embarrassment, but her hands settled on his arm as he prepared to get up and flee.
"Stay," she'd ordered, but for the first time, he wasn't sure he wanted to listen to her.
"I don't want you to pity me."
"Pity? You silly man. Why would I do that?" she scoffed before sitting up and kissed his lips. She had to hold his chin a little hard to keep him in place as he tried to turn away, but she kissed him all the same, determined to give him her affection. "Gale, you did fine. Unpolished, yes, but it was still wonderful. Full of potential, as you always have been. Do not hide in yourself. You are exactly what I want."
"And what is it you want?" he'd asked, desperate for the validation.
"What you have always been, eager to learn, eager to please," she whispered. "Don't you want to please me, Gale? Have I not inspired you to strive for more?"
She had. She really had. Hesitation lay in his heart for only a moment longer before it washed away under her sweet words, and he found himself falling into her bed again, so happy to have more of her, to know he was in fact worth keeping around even when he made mistakes.
It went on like that for years, and the wizard felt happy. He grew stronger under her tutelage, achieved so much, always happiest when she called on him. No one really seemed to approve, but jealousy was a fickle thing. He heard the way others whispered about him at Blackstaff, Even though he was no longer a student there, he still went there for books and supplies, yet they spoke about him as if he weren't his own man. They just wanted the goddess he had. Tara often told him he was wasting his time chasing after a goddess but he strongly suspected she preferred when they were alone.
And his mother… well, she didn't like to talk about it. Which made no sense to him. She'd always wanted him to settle down, yet whenever he tried to mention his new relationship, she'd changed the subject with the subtlety of hitting something with a mallet, mentioning luncheons she'd attended or the latest charity she'd been a part of. Once again, he wished his father was around more often to help her lighten up just a bit. Eventually, he just stopped mentioning Mystra to her all together, utterly aware of for some reason that completely escaped him that she did not approve of the match up.
Aside from that though, things were perfect. Time seemed endless back then, wonderful and blissful in every kind of way. Mystra's affections were like being loved, adored, and he was all to happy to give himself up to her utterly to be worthy of such things from her.
It got less perfect as time went on. It didn't happen immediately, just a gradual sort of change. Time seemed to stretch on between visits, after several years it went on longer and longer. It used to be he'd be allowed to her world every day, and then she'd excuse herself with festivals she had to see to, prayers that needed tending to. He hadn't liked it, wanted her to himself, but he'd forced himself to accept it. She was a goddess after all. He wasn't the only one who needed her.
Days turned to tendays though, and after a while it would be a good month before she'd heard from him. Worry began to eat at him, wondering what he'd done wrong. Surely he'd offended her, had upset her in some way. What had changed? Hadn't he been as devoted as he'd always been.
It led to hours in front of the mirror, seeing how his beard had grown in, how little streaks of gray had started to grow in. It didn't help that such things had crept in early in his family. His mother had gotten a salt and pepper look when he'd barely reached double digits in his age, but he'd always felt she wore it well with confidence. Sadly, he'd never taken the best care of his health, and he seemed a bit on the raggedy side. Did he not carry himself with the same confidence? Was he not good enough?
Oh how he longed to please his goddess, to be even a fraction as perfect for her as she was for him. But… maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was only giving her a fraction when she gave him everything. He'd give her more, show her everything he could do.
The next time she'd come to him, he'd worked himself with a frenzy that surprised even her. Their lesson was pulsing with power, he flung magic until he was exhausted as her eyes dazzled and then had throw himself at her to worship her in a way they both so loved. She'd screamed in delight, wonder, and he felt pride rise in his chest as she clung to him.
'Yes!' he'd thought. This is what she needed. This is what he could give her. Nothing was too much for this goddess. The only limit was what he himself was capable of, and he would tear those limits down for her.
She'd complimented him on his performance, kissed him on the forehead, and told him that she'd see him soon.
And six months passed.
Desperation clung to him then as he finally realized what was going on. He was losing her interest. Even as good as he could be, he was but a mortal. There was magic out there beings like him could never touch, could never even be allowed to see. He'd been the special exception to that, had been shown skills at her fingertips that would never touch the mortal planes. Spells spoken off from so long ago that had been locked away by her words, her laws. She had it still, but not him, never him.
How could he ever hope to impress her enough to get her to stay? He was reaching the limit of what he could learn, and she'd seen plenty of wizards at their peak who would never get any stronger due to the limit she'd set ages past. He was reaching that peak, he knew it. He was already called archmage, but was such a title impressive to her?
What would happen when there was nothing left for him to learn? What would he do if she became bored of him?
The solution seemed to escape him utterly, and he found himself pleading his worries to her they next time she'd come to him. She'd only shushed him again, purred sweet nothings in his ear, called him strong and smart and to be content with what he had.
How could he be though? What he had was so much smaller than what he'd had before. He felt like he was losing her and she was just allowing it. Shouldn't she give him the answer, tell him what to do? Solving problems was fine, but he needed at least a clue of what to do.
The fact was, he would never be her equal. He knew that, so he had to show him just how devoted of a servant she was, that he could take the immense power she'd taught him and show it was for her, all for her. Yes, he would give her a present, something that would show that even as he reached his limits, he could still give her things that no one else could. His spent their time away researching, throwing himself into it with the fervor he was now used to. Exhausting nights didn't even cover it, sparse meals be damned, for her it was all worth it. It would always be worth it.
And then he'd found out about the missing piece of Weave and it had become the goal to grace it back to her. A long quest to secure it, enemies to best and to be blown away by his arcane might, it had been thrilling in so many ways, but it all seemed paltry in comparison to the delight he knew she would express when she saw his gift to her. Oh how she'd be moved, would love him unconditionally then.
It had not worked.
Over the course of a single day, it was all gone. His magic was pathetically small then, struggling to cast cantrips, the room he'd been opening the book in utterly destroyed, and his confidence shattered. The pain had been unbearable, and he'd fled to the temple to throw himself at her alter, begging for answers, for forgiveness.
She hadn't answered, and he found himself thrown out by the priests and clerics when he'd shouted that he'd done all of this for her, and if she'd just tell him what to do then he'd fix it. She just had to tell him what to do.
Why wouldn't she tell him what to do?
Curled up in a ball on his bed, his status as chosen shattered and in so much pain, he was sure he'd die from the heartbreak alone. If it hadn't been for dear, sweet Tara then he was sure he would have. She sat next to him and scolded him for being too big for his britches, but also offered him comforted by letting him pet her and cry into her fur and feathers. That night no work was done, just mourning. It helped him drag himself out of bed the next day, knowing he had to figure this out even if he did it on his own.
To which Tara had swatted his foot with her claws.
"You have never been alone, Mr. Dekarios. I wish you'd see that," she'd scoffed, leaving him utterly confused.
The next year was… bearable, in its own way. Research and experiments lead him to a treatment. It wasn't easy, and he felt so lost. The orb inside of him was so dangerous, so volatile. Still, he balanced it as best he could, and a collection of magic items to keep him fed worked well enough. He had piles of them, and when those ran out, he sent Tara out to purchases more. When his savings started to dwindle, she kept coming back with them anyway and he didn't have the heart to mention the lows she was stooping to for his benefit.
Then he'd ended up on that ship and had crashed, literally, into a group that shared his predicament of invasions in the body.
The group was impressive, he had to admit. Skilled, certainly, and capable in a fight. Hope had sprung up in him that while they searched for a cure from ceremorphosis, perhaps his other problem could also be assisted.
He'd felt Evelyn's magic when she'd soothed the rift to get him out of the magical predicament he'd landed himself in. Hope had sprung up in him that she might be trained like him, know knowledge most did not. Still, he saw no books of magic on her person, and wondered where she'd learned.
"You're not versed in magic, are you?" he'd found himself asking her curiously on a day they'd been picking herbs needed for salves and potions.
She'd eyed him as if she didn't believe what he'd just said.
"My skills are very great," she informed him bluntly.
"Oh! I do apologize. I meant to ask are you studied in magic," he emphasized. "Which is to say, are you a wizard? Which you are not. If you happen to meet any elder wizards, let me know. There is a matter I'd like to seek advice on from a master."
"You mean like Khelben Blackstaff?" she asked him curiously.
"Ah, well he spends far too much time dying to-"
"Or you mean Gromph Baenre of Menzoberranzan, famed for his power and blood lust," she guessed. "He lost his home for a good century, I believe."
"I-" he said before she cut him off.
"Perhaps Araundor who liked to read minds before he destroyed his enemies, who eventually became a lich, or did you mean someone not human like Saryndalaghlothtor?" she asked him as she approached him, basket of herbs carried carefully on her hip. "Or did you perhaps mean delightful old Manshoon that created so many clones of himself even he lost track of who was real? Do any of those accomplished wizards seem learned enough for you to ask them for advice?"
"I feel like I've offended you. Have I offended you?" he asked quickly only for her to shove the basket in his chest.
"Since you're such a mighty and smart wizard, figure it out," she replied icily before stomping off.
Oh dear.
Apparently, it actually had been quite offensive, because when he'd approached Shadowheart with the same question, she'd thought it appropriate to fling her wine in his face and tell him to go bother someone else. Really now, just because he'd found arcane magic to be powerful and she…
Then again, maybe not the best thing to say to a cleric.
Or a sorceress for that matter.
Gale felt rather lost about the whole matter. He hadn't spent time with others for so long, and most of them had been wizards themselves. He certainly didn't mean to imply he found his companions lacking. Quite the opposite, really. They seemed so capable and strong, determined even in the face of utter doom. He very much liked them, and he wanted them to like him too, or at the very least be able to tolerate him.
Clearly apologies were going to need to be made.
He'd tried to approach Shadowheart first, but the woman only shrugged.
"I saw you need to be rescued from a rock," she tutted. "As if you have any place to brag."
Still, she'd smiled at him when she'd delivered her scathing remark, so he considered it forgiven and forgotten.
That only left Evelyn, and admittedly he wasn't sure how to approach her. Odd as it might have been to say, he'd never actually met that many sorcerers before. Oh, a few of them came to Blackstaff, but only a few so he'd never really studied along any of them. While Waterdeep was a lively city he'd lived in his whole life, he'd never really mingled as much as he could have. Mixed company had mostly come from his trips to bars and the like, and he'd often been drinking with his own colleagues. He racked his brain, trying to think of the last one he'd actually talked to in any depth and realized with a bit of a blush he couldn't pull anything from his memories.
Gale had no previous experiences to pull from, no way to think of how to actually talk to the woman, so he'd cheated a bit by seeking out her sister instead. She'd been on the edge of the camp, playing with Scratch by tossing his ball around when he approached her.
"Ah, Lavare. A moment of your time?" he asked her, causing the paladin to smile at him brightly.
"Sure, Gale. What is it?" she asked him.
"I was hoping I could ask you about your sister?" he found himself asking. "We were talking earlier today and… well, I won't beat around the bush. I think I might have offended her and I want to apologize to her."
"What? Evelyn? No," she said with a shake of her head. "She isn't the type."
"Truly? I thought for sure I'd upset her."
"You probably did," she assured him with a laugh. "I meant she's not to type to forgive. She likes to hold onto grudges."
Gale felt his heart sink at that.
"I… I see," he said, wondering how to fix this then. "It's just, I might have implied I thought I was more accomplished at magic than she was because I'm a wizard and she's not. I didn't mean anything like that, of course. Your sister's skills no doubt saved my life and are in fact very impressive, so I want her to know that I see that in her. One could even say she's inspiring, being so naturally talented. I myself would know something about that, being quite talented myself of course. Ah, but again, I'm not trying to compare myself as a better to her. Simply that-"
"Gale," she cut him off. "Maybe you should just tell her that instead of me."
"I was perhaps hoping you could give me a bit of a path to take my words so I didn't make a fool out of myself," he admitted, though he was wondering if it was a bit late for that.
"Hm," she said as she put her forefinger and thumb to her chin, trying to think it over. "Wizards like books, right?"
He found himself blinking at her.
"We're known to enjoy them, yes," he said slowly, wondering if this young lady might have been dropped on her head as a child.
"Great! She loves to read," she said with a grin. "Start with that."
"I haven't seen her with one," he said, confused by that bit of knowledge. Then again, maybe he shouldn't have been. All the names she'd rattled off, clearly she'd studied before.
"Well, she wasn't exactly carrying any around when we were snatched by the… you know," she said as she put her hands under her nose to wiggle her fingers around. "Maybe if you have any, you could lend them to her!"
It seemed a better suggestion than nothing, and surely her own sister would know best. He'd thought about what might be a good read before he ended up just snatching one at random. Even if it was a bad pick, he could at least learn more of her tastes that way. Surely he'd tell her what she liked if he made the effort.
So, pulling through his magical packs and so forth, he picked one with a leather casing and walked up to her tent where she was currently cleaning off her boots. He coughed a bit to announce his presence and she looked up at him, her red scales seeming to glimmer in the firelight.
"I thought I might offer a present, to make up for my words earlier today," he said as he held the thick tome out to her. "I can assure you I meant no ill will, but it's obvious to any to see that I did in fact offend. I wish to make up for it."
She looked down at the book, her eyes trailing over the title and he found himself wishing he'd checked to see what it was.
"That's very gracious of you," she said eventually. "I haven't met many wizards who are known to apologize or even admit when they're wrong."
"I suppose we're not well known for admitting mistakes," he admitted, fully aware of how arrogant those in his profession could be. "I do hope that you won't hold it against me for long."
"How long do you want me to hold it against you?" she asked with an arched eyebrow and a crook of her lips.
"Pardon?" he found himself asking, but she only shook her head.
"You're an interesting one. I don't think I've ever met one as bold as you either," she said. "Most of them seem more interested in how pointy their hat is then… well, this."
What book had he given her? He really felt he should know what book he'd given her.
"Anyway, thank you for the gift. I'll be sure to enjoy it," she said. "And I suppose I can forgive you your comment. You don't seem the kind of man to be cruel, so we'll just chalk it up to a misunderstanding."
"Thank you," he sighed in relief. "That's most gracious of you. Truth be told, I think I'm actually quite delighted to have heard you mention so many accomplished wizards. Clearly you've received a rather impressive education yourself."
"It was mostly homeschooling, but yes," she confessed. "My mother taught me my letters, numbers, everything really. She also taught me legends as if they were fairy tales. There wasn't a night I went to bed where she wasn't spinning some tale for me, or when she wanted to teach me a lesson of some sort. Legendary figures and their follies are apparently great ways to discourage naughty little girls to keep their hands out of the cookie jar."
"Little rascal, were you?" he asked her with a smile.
"No," she replied deadpan. "Because my mother taught me the foolishness of my mistakes before I could even make them."
"I… Um," he said, not sure what to say to that. He had a strict mother himself, but something told him there was a less than flattering story there.
"I was more there to look after Lavare," she confessed. "As we got older, the focus went further towards her. She needed it more than I did. When my magic came, I mostly practiced on my own. Well, that's the case with most like me. Just about every sorcerer is self-taught, if we can't find someone to teach us."
"Your mother couldn't help you with that?" he asked.
"She was more a kitchen witch with a flair for the dramatic," she replied evenly. "While she does have some talents in magic, it's not like what you and I practice."
"What does she practice then?" he asked her curiously, but she only shook her head.
"A conversation for another time," she replied. "It's a little complicated to get into right now."
That was a shame. He loved talking about complicated magic, but even he could see she wasn't in the mood. It was best not to push his luck now that he was in her good graces again or at least the closet he could get to those graces.
"You know, the way your sister spoke of you, I was worried that the rest of this trip together would be awkward for the two of us," he found himself admitting.
Her expression was neutral, almost carefully so, as if she was trying to keep any emotions off of her face. Her eyes drifted over to her sibling, now joined by Astarion. He was saying something to her and the girl was giggling before pushing the ball into his hands. The elf groaned but threw the ball all the same, allowing Scratch to chase after it in enthusiasm.
"I'm only… terse with those that I think I need to be careful around," she said coolly. "Threats and the like, that kind of thing."
"Oh, that's good to know," he said before shaking himself a bit. "Wait, then you don't think I'm a possible threat?"
She glanced back at him before grinning, her expression actually looking a bit feral.
"Of course not. My fireballs are bigger than yours, wizard," she hissed. "But I'm guessing you seem to like that."
She stalked off to where the paladin and the rouge were, clearly intending to interrupt the moment between them. He felt his cheeks flush and glanced down at the book, scrambling to pick it up and groaned when he saw the title.
Pleasurable Deal.
Just what had he done?
Still, he couldn't just ask for the book back. That would be even more embarrassing. Well, it was too late now. Life seemed determined to make him lay in the bed he'd made.
Yet, he felt a little… lighter somehow. It had been so long since he'd spoken to a peer of any kind, and she was smart as a whip, that much was clear. Perhaps after a little bit of smoothing over, they could become friends and laugh about their first few awkward conversations. It had been a long time since he'd been able to have any real and true friends.
And honestly, if he was going to die on this journey, a sadly very likely event, then he was going to have to find some comfort where he could.
Notes:
Sassy Evelyn is sassy. Actually, she's more bitter than anything. You'll see why eventually. Need more friendship points first.
And I adore the idea Gale reads dirty books. It just speaks to me on a level I adore.
Chapter 4: Late Night Musings and Monsters
Notes:
Many apologies for this chapter taking so long to get out. It's been busy at my home lately. New job, summer coming, and I've gotten sick three times now in just a month and a half. It's been pretty wild for me. But I am happy to get this chapter and I really hope that you guys like it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Since Lavara had been a little girl, she knew she wanted to be a paladin just like her dad. She could still remember the first time that she'd met him, her mom holding her on her hip despite being old enough to walk. Lavare couldn't remember what had been said or done exactly, but the feeling was as clear as day to her even years later.
Her dad had been larger than life, but gentle as he took her into his hands. He'd rocked her carefully and had spoken to her in words that were low but had rumbled deep in his chest. It had felt like he'd liked her back then, and she'd giggled and patted at his armor with the large crest on his chest-plate.
She didn't see him a lot growing up, not every day or anything like that, but she'd adored him all the same and it always felt like a treat when he did come to see her. She'd been allowed to even go see him on occasion, him taking her back to his home on Mt Hotenow, though never for longer than a few days at a time until she'd reached her double digits in age and it was extended to a tenday stretch.
Still, the visits were a sparing thing, only a few times a year, but she did so enjoy them. Time out of Baldur's Gate was exciting and interesting, like a whole new world to explore. Her dad was usually busy, even when she came by, but he always paid attention to her nonetheless. He told her stories of his deeds, protecting the lands and keeping them safe.
It had sounded so glorious and wonderful, she'd decided she wanted to be just like him when she grew up no matter what it took.
It seemed to have always been expected of that her do it though, even if she hadn't wanted it. Her mom even had often told her that she was born to it like princes and princesses that were destined to be rulers since they were children. Raised to the role, her mom had said. She hadn't really understood what that had meant when she'd been young, but had taken comfort in it when she'd been older. It felt right, like she knew what she was supposed to do with her life.
Training hadn't been easy, her dad unwilling to be soft on her, but she'd worked hard through it. When she'd finally be allowed to take her oath, it had been one of the most important moments of her life. She'd lived by those words to the best of her ability and they had been second nature to her.
Kindle the Light. Through your acts of mercy, kindness, and forgiveness, kindle the light of hope in the world, beating back despair.
Shelter the Light. Where there is good, beauty, love, and laughter in the world, stand against the wickedness that would swallow it. Where life flourishes, stand against the forces that would render it barren.
Preserve Your Own Light. Delight in song and laughter, in beauty and art. If you allow the light to die in your own heart, you can't preserve it in the world.
Be the Light. Be a glorious beacon for all who live in despair. Let the light of your joy and courage shine forth in all your deeds.
Poetic meanings aside, it was pretty obvious what the oath entailed. She was supposed to be a good person, to help others and to keep hope alive for both them and herself. How was she supposed to show others that the world could be a good place if she couldn't manage to keep her own joy and happiness? Of course, she'd always had a sunny disposition ever since she'd been a child. Staying positive was no burden or difficult chore, but even she could have her doubts from time to time.
Standing against forces that would render life barren was, admittedly, pretty obvious. The undead had been a problem for Faerun since time untold. One of her tenets was to stamp such evil out wherever possible and to keep it from spreading its influence. However, she was also sworn to assist anyone she could and Astarion had needed her.
He had clearly required help and she had indeed helped him, but at the same time her very oath would demand that she do something about this. Balance was about good and evil, but it was also about what was natural and the undead in the world were anything but.
She rolled over in her cot, trying to sleep and found it impossible. It had been a few tiring days, trying to find a cure, meeting those two tieflings, and seemingly no closer to knowing what was going to happen to them. Lavare could tell her sister was starting to fret, though when didn't she? The woman had been worried about her since they'd both been children. She'd also made it abundantly clear she didn't approve of a vampire staying in the same camp as them, very unwilling to give the elf a chance.
Strictly speaking, Lavare shouldn't be willing to either, but there was no way she was about to kick out someone in a bad situation.
He hadn't hurt her. He hadn't even tried to. She probably would have been strong enough to fight him off if need be, but he'd kept his word and hadn't harmed her in the slightest. In fact, the bite had almost been pleasant in a way, the sort of floaty feeling that came with too much wine.
That alone confused her and it was leaving it impossible to sleep. Eventually, she sat up and slipped out of her small tent, looking to see if she could find the vampire.
She glanced around and saw the albino tiefling sitting at the campfire, handling watch for a while before someone else took over in a couple hours, but she looked deep in concentration as the flames crackled away. For a moment, the paladin thought about approaching her in order to be friendly but she had other things to take care of. Instead, she just smiled and gave the martial artist a little wave that she wasn't sure if the woman saw or not before heading to the striped fabric that was Astarion's temporary home.
She slowly lifted the flap, taking her time just in case the elf did not want to be disturbed. No protest came though, so she went inside and saw him laying out on his bedroll and a few pillows, probably for comfort.
He was laying on his back with his arms out a bit and his fingers brought together. She'd seen elves trance before, had heard they did not actually require sleep though they could if they wanted to. It probably meant he was not actually under too deep. Did trances leave them unaware of the world like sleeping did?
"Astarion?" she whispered to him softly.
His eyes immediately snapped open and he sat up so quickly it actually surprised her enough to cause her to fall back on her behind.
So, apparently he was plenty aware.
"You. What are you doing in my tent?" he asked her, his tone clearly suspicious even to a girl like her who didn't always get social cues. Maybe the middle of the night hadn't been a good time for this.
"I… I was hoping to talk to you about something," she admitted. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"
"Mmm, no," he admitted with a shake of his head. "It's not really important. I wasn't asleep."
"I'm sure you were still resting though," she replied.
"Yes, but trancing for elves is just reviewing old memories, looking into the past in our own mind," he muttered. "It's not as if it's anything worth really worth examining."
"Really?" Lavare asked. "Does it have to do with your history as a… well, a vampire?"
"Do you have to insist on exhuming the past?!" he snapped at her before sighing with a shake of his head. "Yes. Forgive me… I'm… it's been long days lately. That's leaving me a little on edge. I… I was a slave, a vampire spawn, kept by the Szarr family. I was never able to resist their commands, but now I've been conveniently lost. They won't ever control me again."
He certainly looked happy about that, not that she could blame him. It sounded like an awful existence.
"So then you were bitten by a true vampire," she mused. "A vampire lord?"
"You know about them then?" he asked her.
"A little," she confessed. "I know vampire spawn have fewer abilities, like you said the other day, but I'm not exactly an expert on every variation of your kind. The fact you could walk in the sun made me think for a moment maybe you were just a kind I hadn't heard of before. In fact, that's kind of why I came to your tent. I wanted to talk to you about biting me."
"I already apologized," he snapped at her, seemingly expecting some kind of argument. His features smoothed over a moment later, actually looking at little hopeful. "Unless you're looking for another nibble?"
"I am willing to help you," she assured her, remembering her promise to him. "Though I don't think anyone else in camp is too willing to do so just yet."
"There's bandits and the like, but I promise you I won't harm innocents," he said. "After all, you know what I am now. I can fight with all my weapons, teeth included. And if I happen to kill an enemy, what's the harm? They're just as dead."
She had to admit, he made a very good point there. Would it really matter if their blood was on the ground instead of inside of him? Did… did that matter? It felt like it really should to her.
"I… I might be more comfortable with you just feeding on me," she admitted with a shake of her head. "Though would that leave you hungry?"
"It's certainly not a satisfying prospect, I must admit. Not that you weren't delicious," he coughed, actually looking a little embarrassed. "Truth me told, you were my first. Before you I only ever fed on beasts, no thinking creatures, despite having this condition for two centuries."
"Oh," she said softly. "I… oh my, that's quite something. I almost wish I could say the same."
"What? What are you talking about?" he asked.
"You were the second vampire that's bitten me," she explained, showing him her forearm. There, just faintly, were small spots on her arms. Four tiny healed scars so light that it would have been near impossible to see them if not already pointed out. "It was five years ago, at the end of my training. I'd only just taken my oath when my dad took me back to Baldur's Gate and brought me to a graveyard. I was told something was in there, and I was sent in to hunt it down on my own. Turned out it was a spawn. I was… I was only seventeen at the time, and aside from my education I'd never been in a real fight. When it came at me I was taken completely off guard. It knocked my sword right out of my hand and attacked me, biting my arm. I was able to wrestle it off of me and kill it, but I still remember the pain when it sunk its teeth into me. It was like fire in my veins."
She fiddled a bit with her hands before glancing up to look at him.
"It… it didn't feel like that with you," she confessed.
"Oh?" he asked, eyeing her closely.
"It felt… well, cold, a bit numbing, but it made my head buzz too. It was almost pleasant," she informed him. "I don't know what that means."
"Well, it means you enjoyed it, darling," he chuckled. "There's no shame in that."
"It was just… confusing," she admitted, but he only put a finger to her lips.
Maybe it was for the best not to share her worries. He already seemed to have plenty of weight on his shoulders at it was. It wasn't right to burden others with her misgivings. People needed her to be sure of herself, to be a light in the world. It wasn't right for her to give away any worries she might have and put that weight on him.
"Don't think about it too much then," he breathed as he scooted closer. "Perhaps you would like to try again? I think I've already proven I know how to be gentle."
She found herself shivering a little as he trailed his hand from her face and down her neck to brush her hair away. His fingers then trailed over her arm, lingering on the pinprick scars as he scooted up behind her.
"It doesn't have to hurt," he purred into her ear. "I can make it feel quite good for you, I swear it. You've already trusted me once before and it worked out."
That was true. It had worked out, and he did need to eat. She didn't entirely understand the implications of all of it, but she had never been able to deny anyone her assistance. Besides, she had promised him already. It was not in her nature to go back on oath to anyone.
"Okay," she agreed.
He didn't lay her down that time, instead hugging her from behind. His arms wrapped around her just under her chest and he gently grazed his fangs over her skin. She tried not to tense, sure it would hurt if she did, but it felt decidedly intimate like this. He must have been waiting for her to relax because the moment she let out the breath she'd been holding, his teeth sunk into her and pierced her throat.
The faintest sigh escaped her as she realized it was the exact same spot where he'd bitten her the first time, and it felt even more sensitive than it had before.
Once again, he'd spoke the truth. He was gentle with her, and aside from the little pinch when his teeth had first punctured, she didn't feel any pain. It was nothing compared to the battles she'd fought over her years as an adventurer though, and it was quickly forgotten about when he drank from her. It felt oddly soothing to feel her blood slowly flow from her as he drank, sucking mouthfuls out from her body. She couldn't help but notice he went slower this time, and she wondered if it was him trying to be more careful or to make the experience last longer.
Finally he drew away and slowly drug his tongue over her skin to catch the little droplets of the red nectar still seeping out of her. Another shiver escaped her at his actions, yet she didn't ask him to stop despite it feeling much more suggestive than the last time.
"Feeling woozy again?" he asked her, his voice sweet and like a caress against the shell of her ear.
"No, but that might be because I'm not standing up," she stated.
"You should take a moment to rest then," the elf suggested. His arms didn't leave her and she found herself leaning back into his chest. She didn't feel any heat radiating off of him but he wasn't cold either. It was just… normal, the same as the very air around her. She'd fought undead that had felt like voids in the very world itself, but Astarion didn't feel like that. Something about him was different.
Was it the tadpole or something else?
The fact that she didn't know should have worried her, yet relaxing in his arms seemed to take her concern away rather than build on it. It was comfortable in that spot with him and she did trust him. He wasn't even the problem, not really. She just didn't know what this meant for her.
It wasn't like her oath would be broken if she didn't attack every undead she saw on sight. She even knew there were ones out there that didn't harm anyone. She'd visited the Circus of the Last Days often as both a child and a teenager, had seen the skeletons and zombies there that worked in the background and as entertainment.
Was there a line between just letting them be and helping one though?
Lavare figured there couldn't be any harm in it. After all, she'd now let him bite her twice and her oath was still intact. She would have felt it if it had broken from the first time she'd allowed him to feed on her. Her doubts were clearly only small, little niggling thoughts if she'd granted him access to her neck a second time.
"You should probably head to bed," he reminded her after a spell. "We'll both need our rest if we're going to track down that red dragon your sister claimed she saw through the blasted telescope."
"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it," she noted.
"I'd love to bring this worms under control, but I doubt being purified will be the same thing. Still… it's possible our journey will be over soon," he mused as he pulled away to lay back down. Resting on his side, with his head in his hands, he gazed up at her. "Tomorrow could spell the end of us traveling together if everyone decides to go their separate ways, if… you decide to separate from my company."
"Will you miss me?" she asked him curiously. She wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed like he didn't want to leave.
"Sure, why not?" he asked with a bark of laughter. "You've been to the Hells and back. Survived the crash. Survived everything that's followed. I'm not easily impressed by people, but you're stronger than I gave you credit for."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I appreciate that."
"I bet you do," he scoffed. "You do have your charms, more than you think."
"Perhaps we should get to know each other better," she offered. It would be nice if they could talk a little more over their journey. She'd like it if he stuck around, even if they got rid of the tadpoles in their heads. Undead or not, Astarion was sweet. Maybe that's why it was so easy to trust him despite her training and tenets. He didn't want to hurt anyone, just survive. While he might not have the same kind of life others did, she was feeling more and more sure that his circumstances did not keep him from being a good person.
"Heh. A delicious thought but..." he said as he trailed off.
"But?" she asked him. "What are you waiting for?"
"The right moment," he purred before glancing away. "I'm sorry. I need to clear my head. I'll see you later."
Oh, of course. He'd already been telling her to go to bed. She should have remembered that. Even if he didn't sleep, he was probably still tired and needed his rest. Maybe she should have waited until morning to talk to him.
"I'll let you get back to trancing," she said with a nod of her head before climbing out of the tent.
The paladin took her time to walk slowly, feeling a bit off in her step. She was glad it wasn't a permanent feeling or she wasn't sure she'd be much use in feeding him.
"Found what you needed to?"
"Huh?" Lavare asked, noticing Durge talking to her. "Who? Me?"
"No one else here," the tiefling pointed out. Sure enough, everyone else was asleep, tucked away in their tents.
"How did you know I was trying to find something out?" she asked, causing the tiefling to arch an eyebrow at her.
"Tents are thin," she informed Lavare. "This one suggests leaving camp if privacy is desired."
"Ah..." she said as she felt her cheeks warm up. "Then you heard everything?"
Surely Durge couldn't have. Astarion had whispered quite a lot there when so close to Lavare.
The tiefling only shrugged.
"He's dangerous," she pointed out calmly, as if speaking of the weather. "You trust him?"
"I do," Lavare replied without even thinking about it, and she really did. Astarion had always been honest about his intentions, aside from that little bit of sneaking up on her at night… and the time he'd pulled a knife on her. But he'd been scared both of those times. It could hardly be held against his character.
"Mmm, this one supposes dangerous is smart to have in the wilds," Durge mused. "And you? Are you dangerous?"
"I'd never hurt anyone in this camp, if you're worried about that," the paladin swore, but the tiefling only shook her head at those words.
"Not what this one meant. She is… mmm, never mind," she replied. "Should rest. It's late."
Lavare almost pressed her, wondering what it was she had to say, but after losing her blood she was feeling rather exhausted. Her bedroll was calling to her and she didn't really want to put off sleep any longer. Glad she wasn't one of the people who had to take watch tonight, she went back to her tent and slipped inside in order to go down for the rest of the night.
She actually felt reassured by what had happened tonight. Astarion was fed and both he and she were fine. Nothing bad had happened. She'd been able to share herself with him. Clearly the tenet of kindling the light took place over sheltering the light. Besides, he didn't seem to have any desire to make the world barren. He didn't even seem to have become a vampire by choice, so it wouldn't be fair to judge him. Clearly he was a victim of circumstance and that was all.
Reassured, she settled down into her pillow and allowed her eyes to close. Sleep came easier then, her heart feeling light once again.
Across from the camp, the Dark Urge was simply watching the fire, the sparks cracking and popping along the half-burned wood. She had a lot to think about and the same time almost nothing at all. It didn't seem anyone else had lost their memories in the short conversations she'd been able to have with them. They all seemed sluggish too, almost weak, like something was dragging them down into a black pit of oil.
Or perhaps that's just how she felt.
Her body felt dulled, sore even. A deep, stiff and slow ache had settled into her body, and it didn't seem quite right. She didn't know much but something told her she shouldn't feel like this. She should feel strong. She should feel mighty. She should feel…
Then again, it didn't matter. Should's and would's and could's mattered little it seemed. Whatever The Dark Urge had been before, it was lost to her now. Maybe just for the moment though. Already a couple memories had come back to her. More could filter in until she could piece together the picture of what she was.
Then again, of what she did know, none of it was pleasant. The sight of blood and gore had filled her with dread but also a thrill of excitement. The smell had been awful in the high noon sun, filtering the air with the scent of sour copper, and yet it had been moving as if it were a glorious work of art. Why had such a sick view filled her with delight?
The answer was probably the same as why her body had moved on its own in the fight against the false paladin. It had been thoughtless, instinct driving her more than anything. The feel of his skull cracking like a melon under blows and coating her fists in the sticky matter of his brain and eyes and tongue, mashed to pulp under her might, it had been glorious delicious. Yet, it hadn't seemed like enough. She should have been able to do more, hit harder, hurt deeper than what she had. It had been satisfying but in a way that had left her yearning for more the very split second it was over.
Such a thing left her feeling wary. It was one thing to kill in the heat of battle, but it felt dirty and tainted to her to have acted like that. The fleeting satisfaction was very worrying.
Then again, her companion had literally set herself on fire and had made a grand effort to burn the whole building down. Maybe how The Dark Urge had acted was not all that off after all.
Something in her compelled her to tell the others, to let them know of the risk she felt inside of her own body, the desire to rip and tear. Wyll claimed he hunted devils, demons and monsters. It would be best not to risk his wrath by accidentally surprising him with her ferocity in another fight. There would most certainly be other fights too. They were in a land that might as well be mapless and surrounded by threats both known and unknown. To pray or hope for a peaceful trail would be foolish optimism.
She looked up at the sky and saw how the moon had passed overhead. It had been the two hour shift by now, or very close to it. Time to wake the next person. Who was it that had volunteered to take after her? Ah, the half-elf Shadowheart. Yes, that was it.
Standing up and dusting herself off, she was about to move toward where the cleric was sleeping when the very earth beneath her feet began to shudder. Slips of the very shadows around the camp seeped in and pooled into a large circle and caught fire like lamp oil.
"Everyone!" she yelled as loudly as she could to alert the others. "Something is coming!"
To their credit, they all roused quickly to her alert, coming out of their tents with weapons drawn even if in their sleeping clothes and not in their armor. Breathing heavily, she growled a bit as she readied her fists, as a shape oozed out of the miasma and formed into a blue-skinned devil in a tight and revealing dress.
"Gods damn it. Anyone but her," Karlach cursed, obviously recognizing who was coming.
"Wyll," the cambion purred in a soft-tinged voice that was both sweet and yet brimming with malice. "You've been naughty, and you know what happens when you're naughty."
"Damn devil," Durge hissed, eager to tear at the things flesh, maybe rip her wings from her smooth back. She was clearly a threat to both Wyll and Karlach, and the tiefling was not about to let anything hurt her newly found companions. "Get out of this camp!"
"Now? But I was just getting comfy," she cooed. She didn't seem to feel bothered by the threatening aura of the ones surrounding her with weapons. "Call me Mizora. I'm Wyll's patron, the fount of his power. My pet's been unruly and his leash needs a yank!"
By some invisible force the man in question was suddenly stumbling forward, pulled by some invisible bond. His footing nearly caught before Gale surged forward to catch him by the shoulders to keep him from falling.
"Leave him alone," the wizard warned. "You're outnumbered. I know all about patron pacts and the warlocks attached to them, but don't think for a moment we'll let you hurt him."
"Then you should know that he's mine to do with as I wish. I don't need you to let me do anything," she laughed before her smile morphed into a snarl. "We had a deal, but Karlach is still breathing."
"I've taken more pleasant shits than you, Mizora, and at least those can be buried after," the larger tielfling bit out.
"That's no kind of talk for a lady," she tutted. "By the way, Karlach, Zariel sends her regards."
"You told me… devils only," Wyll gasped out. It seemed every word was an effort for him, yet he was still willing to argue for Karlach's sake. "She's just a tiefling. She's no monster."
"How precious," Mizora sighed out. "The little pup has found its bark. Clause G, Section Nine: Targets shall be limited to the infernal, the demonic, the heartless, and the soulless. Karlach meets the criteria by not having a heart."
"She has a heart," Astarion snorted with a roll of her eyes. "Granted it's mechanical and not original, but still a heart. Perhaps you should learn your contract better."
Mizora turned burning eyes towards the vampire and raised her hand as if to strike, but Lavare shoved herself in front of him, sword drawn.
"Don't," the woman warned, her blade ready and her gaze steely. "You'll just go right back to Avernus if your slain, but it'll still hurt. You stay away from him, from all of us."
"Yes, even if Karlach did not have strength worthy of this group, my blade has tasted devil flesh before. It would love to again," Lae'zel growled, her sword also raised to strike if need by.
"I'm sure we'd make short work of you," Shadowheart promised in agreement, magic started to form in her hand as she clutched her holy symbol in the other. "Do you honestly feel trying to take Karlach back is worth testing all of our patience?"
"Oh, don't any of you worry. That ship has long since sailed the Styx," the devil replied as she lowered her hand. Still, Durge saw her eyes glance around for a moment to take stock of the group ahead of her. Probably counting the numbers and weighing the odds. It was true in a plane besides Hell getting attacked and defeated would just send her back to her plane of origin, but she looked too prissy to enjoy pain.
It only made the amnesiac want to hurt her all the more.
"Still, a defiant pup must pay his price. No amount of you will save him from that, and if you try to send me back then I'll happily drag him back with me. Though for him, it will not be a temporary stay," she threatened.
Before anyone could react, her palm turned black for a moment and fire engulfed Wyll who only barely had time to shove Gale away from the flames before the wizard was caught up in them too. The warlock seemed to morph and change before their eyes, and when Lavare rushed forward to try to do something for him, Evelyn caught her by the arm and held her back.
"Wyll!" Lavare called.
"Stop! There is nothing you can do for him!" her sister insisted.
"There. That's better," Mizora purred once it was all over, her warlock staring at his body in shock at his harder skin, defined by ridges and with long horns stretched out long past his head.
"What the hells have you done?!" he demanded.
"A promise broken, a price paid. You know the terms," his patron and tormentor replied. "Get used to the new form, pet. Some magic, even I can't undo. Now, lets see how the Frontiers fare without their precious blade. Karlach, keep an eye on him, will you? As for me, I'll be keeping my eye on… this one."
The Dark Urge felt surprise when the devil looked directly at her and gave her a wink that made the tiefling feel pure revulsion. Just what did that bitch want with her?
"Oh and Wyll? Don't forget that our pact still stands. Ta-ta."
Just like that, she was gone, leaving nothing but the smell of brimstone in her wake.
"Shit… Wyll," Karlach said as she approached him. "I can't believe you did that for me."
"To be fair, it was Mizora that did it," he stated numbly, seeming in shock.
"Yeah, but you had to know she'd come in pissed over me before you even found me," the red tiefling said. "You chose my life over yours. I'm reeling from it, honestly. Been a long time since anyone stuck their neck out for me like that."
He smiled a little bit at her.
"All the more reason to have done it," he replied, some warmth coming back to his voice before turning to the group. "And thanks be to all of you for trying to defend me. Believe me, by the gods, it was appreciated."
"Of course. I'm just sorry we couldn't stop what she did to you," Lavare said before turning to Shadowheart. "Is there truly no way to reverse it?"
"Maybe the most powerful cleric in the whole world could restore that damage, but I somehow doubt it. Infernal magic is vile and very powerful. Besides, even if we could there's nothing that could keep her from just doing it again. It would be, at best, a waste of resources. At worst it would get a very angry devil that clearly knows an archdevil on our backs. I mean no offense, Wyll, but that isn't the kind of trouble we need to be risking for anyone in this little group of ours."
"No, I agree. This is a price, like Mizora said," the warlock stated. "It seems by paying it, Karlach has her freedom. It'll be an adjustment but I'd rather look like this than to see her hurt."
"Oh, that is so kind and so very fucked up," Karlach gushed. "Is there anything I can do to return the favor?"
"Some advice on proper horn care wouldn't go amiss," he admitted.
"Ha! I'm sure you'd rather live without 'em," she admitted. "But those babies are absolutely magnificent. As far as I'm concerned, you've never looked better. Keep them clean and dry, apply some seed oil now and then, and they'll shine."
She hesitated for a moment, her smile turning a bit shy.
"I'm grateful I get to travel with you, Wyll. You're one of the most noble men I've ever met."
"Thank you," he said. "It's always good to know I've been able to help others."
"Hopefully there will be no more late night visitors," Shadowheart remarked.
"Yes, we seem rather awash in our quota for the evening," Gale agreed. "Shall we get back to bed then?"
"I'll actually take next watch, Shadowheart," Wyll said. "I don't think I could sleep right now anyway. No sense in the both of us losing out on rest."
"Suit yourself. It looks like you'd need time to navigate how you'd handle the pillows now anyway," the cleric replied before turning back to her tent.
Once everyone else was settled back down, The Dark Urge looked to Wyll, searching him for a reaction. He'd seemed calm before, but now that hardly anyone was looking, his fists were balled up and he was trembling slightly.
Anger, barely contained. Yes, she knew that look. Somehow, it was much too familiar to her.
Her mind was a void for memories, but emotions and instinct seemed to be plentiful enough to the point she could not escape them.
"Are you alright?" she asked once everyone else was back in their tents. It seemed better to talk about this privately.
He regarded her with a look of surprise for a moment before it morphed into a small smile.
"Only a day ago you were threatening to kill me," he noted. "I'm glad that changed to concern so quickly."
"It was for Karlach. This one will not let anyone hurt her," she replied firmly.
"Something we agree on then. Good, good. It's a great thing to have common ground with allies," he said before sighing. "As for how I'm faring… I've been better. No point in lying about it. My pact is complicated, and there's much about it that I can not breathe a word about. Even when she is not around, I'm held firmly in her grasp. She does enjoy toying with me, but this is easily the worst she's ever done."
Durge watched him closely as he sighed again.
"It's what I have to endure to help people. Usually she allows me to only hurt evil forces. After all, many of her enemies are no saints. Villains do not get along with other villains," he reasoned.
Something struck in her heart at that, something vile. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second as an image came to her.
That man again, black hair and rough features but with a smooth smirk, standing in front of her.
Holding a knife… firmly planted in her gut as he smiled wickedly at her.
"This one… um..." she breathed, feeling suddenly woozy.
"Durge. Are you alright?" he asked, noticing her sway a bit.
She nodded her head for a moment before shaking it. There was no sense in lying about her condition.
"This one has… thoughts, bad thoughts. Angry… violent," she admitted to him. "Hurting others… or this one being hurt… It's… confusing."
"Anger, I understand. We've been preyed on by ilithids, suffered insertion of a mind-bending worm. Bloodthirst is another matter. But perhaps not too big of a one, if it's a devil or demon's flesh you're wanting to tear," he mused before smiling at her. "I have seen you give threats before, but you also backed off when it was clear there was no real cause for violence. I'm sure your self-control is better than what you think."
His words felt reassuring to her and actually helped soothe the fear and worry. Everything had seemed so uncertain to her in all of this, ever since she'd woken up on that blasted ship. He was right. So far she'd only hurt those that had deserved it. Thoughts and fantasies were nothing more than that, right? As long as she didn't act on them then she should be fine.
"This one only wished… Just what is this one?" she breathed. "No one else seemed to have lost their memories."
"I can only give an answer to that on what I've seen," he said as he reached out and gently clapped her on the shoulder. "A loyal friend and one who is quit to jump to the defense of someone who needs it. And, hopefully someone willing to share her seed oil if she happens to have any."
She stared at him for a moment as he grinned at her, suddenly realizing that he was telling a joke. A giggle escaped her before it broke into real laughter. It felt lighthearted and easy, like a pressure was lifted off form her chest. For a split moment of bliss, she didn't feel like someone confused and angry and scared, on an unknown journey with only vague hopes of survival. She could have been anyone at that moment, innocent and on a simple camping trip with friends. The moment didn't last, and her laughter faded after a few moments but she'd treasure it all the same.
"Thank you," she replied sincerely. "This one needed to hear something so silly. There is no seed oil in this one's pack but if we can find a vendor then this one will happily but you some, Wyll."
"That would certainly be appreciated. Maybe we can find some good quality stuff. I'll be relying on you and Karlach to navagate this."
He gave a friendly little wink and The Dark Urge found herself smiling widely at his attitude. He was nice when not threatening her friend with a sword. In fact, she felt very much like she'd like him to be her friend too. He was genuine and kind, and something told her that she needed more of that in her life, very desperately in fact.
"You should get some sleep. There's no need for you to stay up any longer," he told her. "Thank you for warning the camp of that vile woman's arrival. I'd hate to think what might have happened if she'd been able to catch us unaware. I don't think we'll have any more nasty surprises tonight though. It's best you catch what rest you can. I'm certain there will be plenty more dangers to greet us when the morning light comes."
She nodded her head at his good idea and made her way over to her cot. Unlike the others, she herself did not have a tent. She didn't want to risk being sneaked up on and the air felt cool on her skin as she looked up at the stars.
There was still so much she didn't know, didn't understand, and what did come to her felt terrible. Just who was that man who she kept seeing in her mind? Gortash? No memories of him seemed pleasant, collared and chained, stabbed in the stomach… He'd clearly been an enemy, someone she could not trust. How had he gotten so close to her. What was she to him? She tried to reach into her own mind, to pull memories, but nothing came. Like a torch that had flickered away to death in a dark cave, nothing would be revealed to her and trying to force it was only causing her a headache.
They would have to go to Baldur's Gate one way or the other, if they survived that long. It might not matter who she was, or who that man was, not for long anyway. There was still a good chance that her body and mind might be twisted by the sickness brought on the worm first. Who knew how long she had. Would she allow herself to change into another creature, doomed and soulless, or would her odds be better with the gods if she chose to take her own life?
Somehow she had a feeling neither option was a good one for her. A lurching in her gut told her this had not been her life before, surrounded by people she cared for and loved.
No, she certainly hadn't known love before. Her hands felt too bloody for that to have been true.
Notes:
Who's gonna tell her? She certainly has the wrong impression of Gortash, but it'll get better. Her memories are just tripping her up at the moment.
Also, what did you guys think of the interaction with Mizora? I always kind of hated her scenes, honestly. She stays prissy throughout the game and you very rarely get to put her in her place without Wyll having to pay some serious consequences. It was kind of cathartic to have the party threaten her and stand up for their new warlock buddy. Also, I can't be the only one who felt it should have been pointed out Karlach is not heartless. She just got a transfer. lol All kidding aside, the argument wouldn't have worked but someone should have pointed it out.
Between that and getting Astarion some blood, it was damn fun chapter to write. I'm just sorry it took so long to get it posted.
Chapter 5: Magic Evoked Madness
Notes:
Ahhh, it feels good to be getting back to this after so long. I've been able to pull myself out of my slump and actually write a lot lately, so I just knew I had to get back into this. The chapter is in Evelyn's POV, which I haven't tackled before, so that is fun. Well, I did in a one shot that isn't canon to the story, so I'm not sure if that counts. Still, writing her was fun. Truthfully, she's a character I have a blast playing because she's a departure from the, "Of course I'll help you however I can!" characters I usually play in games. Yes, Lavare is much closer to my style, which is to save everyone, help everyone, and not expect a reward in return. Actually saying, "Uh huh. Look, I'm willing to help out but it better be in my best interests," was actually a different take for me. If anything, Lavare would be the L/G while Evelyn is straight down the line neutral. She does have a few soft points though, which just goes to show I'm incapable of playing a complete bastard.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
What did it say about life that finding a red dragon was disappointing? Evelyn felt herself groan in pain as her whole body ached, quite out of breath. The fight with the githyanki had been embarrassingly difficult, and she had the slashes and bruises to prove it.
The sorceress had once had the power to magically fling an ogre around with telekinesis, and now a brawl was causing her trouble?!
Well, no, not a brawl. The gith were born for combat, bred for it. This was like going up against a very well trained band of soldiers, and as she looked out at the bodies, she had a feeling they'd been lucky to survive. Lae'zel had mentioned something about the Queen's Blade. Had they been some kind of strike team?
"I don't understand. Why did they attack us?" Lavare asked Lae'zel. "I'm so sorry, your own people. That must have been so hard on you."
"Tch, spare me your soft heart," the warrior replied. "He was lying about something. What I do not know, but he was not in service to my queen. He must be brought to justice."
Evenlyn was confused by that. How did Lae'zel come to that conclusion? Just because they'd attacked the party? Lae'zel would probably know better than her though. As well learned as she was, her knowledge was limited when it came to species among the stars. Her mother's tales mostly stuck to this realm. Maybe there was something going on she hadn't noticed. Sighing, she rubbed at her sore arm before grimacing as she realized she was smearing blood all over herself.
"Oi," she called to Gale. He'd been the one put in charge of the potions, the magic user the best in the back anyway. It was the foremost way to ensure none accidentally got broken in a fray. Shadowheart was busy healing Wyll, while Lavare was putting hands on Astarion. She frowned at the sight. If things were just, her sister's paladin powers would cause him to burst into flames.
When she didn't get an answer, she looked around. Just where was the wizard? He surely hadn't run, had he?
Confused and more than a little concerned, she left the battle scene as she tried to locate the man. Of all the people she'd expected to get chased off, it wasn't him. He'd been rather useful in battle honestly, a great control over the Weave in his casting.
There was a bit of a rivalry between sorcerers and wizards, but she'd never taken part in it… much. Actually, she had a great respect for wizards and the powers they controlled through training and hard study. While her talents came to her naturally, and she was damn proud to have mastered them, she saw wizards as starting with nothing but determination to learn such skills while she'd certainly known enough sorcerers who flung their powers about willy-nilly and usually ended up hurting themselves or others around them. Gale, while haughty, was not a bad man, even kind and gentle when there was nothing to gain from it. Him running away just didn't seem right.
So, the conclusion? Something was wrong.
"Gale?" she asked as she came around a bend where the man was, bent over and clutching at this chest. "Gale! Are you alright?!."
"Ah, just the last battle took a little out of me. The githyanki are nothing to sneeze at, let me tell you," he said.
"You look hurt. Let me see," she ordered firmly.
"You remind me oddly of my cat," he chuckled before he stood up straight and stretched out his back. "She lectures me too. Lovingly, of course, but she did get me used to sharp tongues like yours. Oh, my knees are not good at all this traveling."
"Gale," she said, trying to keep her tone warning even as she was starting to feel a touch worried.
"I have not come by any injury," he assured her with a shake of his head. "Actually, well, not from the battle anyway. Ah, but I probably should tell you. We've traveled together for some time now and it is rather important. Truthfully, with everything else going on, I was wondering if it was going to be an issue. It seems our timescale has been lengthened further than we would have expected, yes?"
She could tell he was stalling. Part of her wanted to tell him off for it, but she had a feeling if she lashed out at him then it would only cause him to clam up instead of share with her. Gale was… something, but he wasn't cruel or wicked. He didn't deserve to suffer whatever was wrong, so if it took him a little extra time to talk about it, even she wasn't going to bitch at him for it.
"We've been together for a while now, haven't we? Shared some perils, overcame some obstacles. Ever since you were kind enough to free me from that stone, I've seen you demonstrate remarkable guile and courage."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, feeling the need to protest. He seemed to have gotten entirely the wrong idea about her.
"You were the one who got Kahga to release that poor girl," he pointed out.
She really hadn't. She'd simply snatched the little tiefling up to shield her with her body when it seemed the snake was about to strike, and shot some fire at it to try to scare it away. Lavare had been the one who had actually been able to speak with the druid and get her to calm down, speaking to her of the balance of nature and forgiveness in a soothing tone. Evelyn's actions could have easily just started a fight with the druids.
"Not to mention you saving that poor little boy from the harpies," he continued easily.
"He was stupid for wandering near monsters and I lectured him about staying safe when away from his friends," she grumbled, trying not to remember how she'd screamed for the little one when she'd noticed the boy going towards the monsters and shoving Astarion out of the way to go running into the water after him to keep him from drowning. All that proved was the children of the grove were all full of trouble.
"My point is, you do have a kind heart there, try as you may to hide it," he said before sighing. "In short I've grown to trust you, Evelyn."
"Enough with the flattery, where is this going?" she snapped, telling herself firmly that her cheeks were not getting warm and he was a silly, foolish wizard that said silly and foolish things.
"I was being quite sincere, I assure you. The reason I'm saying all of this is because I've grown confident enough to tell you something I've yet to tell anyone, except for my cat."
"The cat I remind you of?" she asked.
"Well, yes. You're both rather fetching in your mean little ways," he teased before coughing, though it seemed more in awkwardness than pain. "You see, I have this condition. Very different from the parasite we share, but just as deadly. The specifics are rather personal but suffice to say that it is a malady I have learned to live with, though not without some effort. What it comes down to is this: every so often I need to consume a magical item and absorb the Weave inside."
"I see. And if you don't?" she asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I'll spare you the finer details, but it begins with a simple biological deterioration. Muscle spasms, disorientation, a slight ringing in the ears. And if left too long… catastrophe," he answered her. "It's been days since I last consume an artefact, since before we were abducted. It's only a matter of time before my craving returns."
"I don't suppose you'd be willing to be more specific about catastrophe?" she asked him but he shook his head. All of a sudden she was very worried about how close her sister got to this man rather than that stupidly charming vampire.
"Truly, I would much rather avoid the details if it is at all possible," he said. "I do apologize, it's just rather embarrassing. Just know it won't be an issue if I have one to consume."
"Mmm, I don't have anything on hand," she admitted as she rubbed her neck. "Maybe one of the githyanki we slayed had something stashed away in their supplies."
"We'll have to hope," he sighed.
"If not we'll go back to the vendor at the grove. I'm sure he'll part with something for a flash of gold," she stated.
"Wait, really? You're willing to just buy me what I need?" he asked her, grinning. "That is most kind of you."
"Oh stop it. You don't use a word like catastrophe and just expect people to ignore it, do you?" she asked. "Unless you're utterly exaggerating and it's going to give you a headache at worst and you're just lying to me for sympathy?"
"No, of course not," he assured her.
"Then let me help you and stop acting like I'm making a big show of it," she snapped at him.
"I'd swear, if I didn't know any better, I'd think Tara somehow got polymorphed," he mused as he leaned in closely to look at her, causing her to flex back a bit from how near he was. He actually looked confused for a second, and she could not believe he was indulging that stupid idea for even a second.
"Enough," she said as she put her hand to his chest to keep him away from her. "I am not your cat."
"What? Oh, no. No, I didn't mean… it's just… Oh, it must be this hunger for the Weave," he admitted with a shake of his head. "I could have sworn for just a moment I could sense it on you, magic I mean."
"Well, I am a sorceress," she reminded him. "What, do I smell like it or something?"
"I… I can feel it in the air around you… almost like a taste on the tongue. Reminds me of fire-whiskey, actually," he mused before brightening up. "Ah, but of course! Your scales! You are obviously descended from a dragon, chromatic obviously. Your magic does posses a leaning towards fire, so it must be a red dragon."
"My scales are red," she found herself mumbling. "Any idiot could figure that out."
But he looked so pleased with himself, it didn't seem as if he'd even heard her.
"You think that dragon we just saw was a relative?" he asked teasingly, and the urge to hit him upside the back of the head filled her.
"Probably not," she grumbled.
"My, I wonder if all people lucky enough to be born with natural magic have such an air about them. Fascinating to think about, or perhaps I'm the only one who could sense it due to my unique circumstances. Why, it only makes me wish there were more here so I could further look into it. Oh, but I do love when the world opens up new mysteries for me to unravel. Perhaps when we reach the grove again we can ask Rolan if he notices anything special about you."
"I am not in the mood to be sniffed at by wizards, thank you very much," she retorted. "We should rejoin the others, and you should probably tell them about this as well. A whole group keeping an eye open for magical items will be better than just you and I."
"Some of them might not be willing to hand over something so valuable," he admitted. "Then again, it is imperative."
"I'm starting to think you're just trying to build tension," she scoffed before shaking her head. "Come on. Let's go."
When they got back, it was to an argument between Shadowheart and Lae'zel. The very last thing Evelyn needed, and she started to feel a headache coming on no healing potion would fix.
"We nearly got killed by those people and you want to march right back into a whole swarm of them?" the cleric demanded. "Are you insane? Are you actually insane?!"
"They are bound by creed to help me, and they will help you, but only if I ask it," Lae'zel hissed back at her.
"Forgive me if I don't prostrate myself before you as I beg for your brand of mercy," the cleric spat. "I'm starting to seriously doubt if there even is a device that can cure us with your people."
"You doubt my words?! I am no liar, half-elf!"
"Maybe not a liar, but you are seriously delusional!"
"ENOUGH!"
The entire party turned at the scream to The Dark Urge, her eyes blazing in anger. She was splattered with blood from the fight, having clawed at her opponent and for all intent and purposes she looked like she had bathed in it. Seething with barely controlled anger, she stalked up to the two and shoved them apart.
"You," she hissed at Shadowheart. "No leads and less time. If any chance this is going to work, it must be taken. Feel comfortable enough to strike out on your own or will submit to the will of the group."
She whipped around on Lae'zel before the warrior could say anything, glaring at her.
"And you will know what the fuck you are doing next time you talk to your people! If this one gets in another fight with your people be sure you are behind her or she may not be able to tell the difference! This one will not be drug into other people's battles because the ones you have chosen to talk to prefer to start fights instead of talk! This one is not your attack dog!"
Glaring at the both of them, the tiefling began to stalk off.
"What's her issue?" Shadowheart muttered, but there seemed to be a touch of worry in her tone.
"She just gets a little hot after fights sometimes. Just… let me talk to her," Karlach offered.
"Need some help?" Lavare offered but the barbarian just shook her head and went after her.
"We're falling apart," Evelyn sighed out.
"I'd hate to admit it, but I agree. Tensions are high for everyone right now," Gale agreed with her. "A day back at the grove might be a good idea, to allow our tempers to cool."
"Can we really risk that kind of time right now?" she asked.
"Can we afford not to?" the wizard asked in reply. "We share a common goal, but it seems everyone here is thinking differently about how to best to solve it. And, as much as I'd hate to admit it, I don't think the secrets are helping. Ah, that is to say… sorry for not mentioning mine sooner."
"It's fine. We'll… we'll discuss it later," she sighed before addressing the group. "Look, we know the creche is nearby. Perhaps we should try to make our way there. If anyone isn't comfortable, we can always split up, maybe send a scouting party with Lae'zel at the head. If everything is on the up and up, we can send for the others afterward. And if we can't go for whatever reason, we'll start looking into other cures. There's still that druid that needs help, if we can find the goblins."
"That's not a bad idea, actually," Wyll said. "I'm willing to keep going if everyone else is. There's nothing to say we can't remove the tadpoles and then stop the goblins afterward. We might even be better help without our own fates hanging over our heads."
"Then we try to head to the creche immediately then?" Shadowheart asked before rolling her eyes. "Fine. I think I'll be one of the ones to stay back though, just outside of the creche. Evelyn's right. We'll need a look out just in case."
"We might need to wait for them," Wyll noted as he indicated towards the two tieflings. The Dark Urge was hunched over and panting hard, currently ripping at one of the bodies of their fallen foes while Karlach knelt down next to her, speaking soothingly but so quietly no one could make out her words. "She was not selling herself short when she mentioned her blood-lust. Sometimes she seems as feral as the beasts we've had to contend with."
"She is fierce in battle, but in a way that seems to indicate that she knew no other way," Lae'zel noted.
"Sounds like something you would know," the cleric asked pointedly but the githyanki snorted.
"Hardly. My skill with a sword was my talent, but I was trained to be well balanced and studied. My mind is just as sharp as my blade," she said firmly.
"I suppose we'll see," Shadowheart replied before turning to Evelyn. "In either case, standing around a bunch of dead corpses isn't going to do any good, especially if that dragon comes back. We need to leave, no matter what direction we go."
"Gale, can you hold out for now or should we head back immediately?" she asked the wizard.
"I know when it gets particularly bad. We have some time. I'd say two or three days, but I'd rather not suffer through it that long," he said softly to her.
"The creche then. We'll try that and loop back if we have to," the sorceress decided. "Karlach! Durge! Are you two coming?"
Durge snapped her head back to the group before taking a deep breath and nodding slowly.
"You sure, soldier? We can just wait her for a bit," Karlach offered.
"No. No… must go now," she breathed. "This one… needs to be away from the bodies. Please."
"Right. Okay, then. Let's get going."
At the very least, they knew the way to the pass which would make it easier. However, they didn't make it far. They'd only reached the bridge before something happened. Evelyn felt herself cry out in pain as she was shoved down to her hands and knees by some unseen force, as if prostrating herself to the very earth itself.
A voice drilled into her with enough force to cause her head to feel like it was splitting open, and she could taste bile at the back of her throat. It was impossible to resist, impossible to block out.
"Hear my voice. Obey my command."
It took everything she had not to throw up from the force of it. Resisting was literally impossible.
Darkness came over her, swallowing up everything as the voice continued. She could see nothing but three shadowed figures before her and hear the voice penetrating into her very soul.
"These are my Chosen. They speak for me. Aid their search for the weapon, and you will be worthy to stand beside them. In my presence."
Before anything else could happen, before Evelyn found herself being crushed under the weight of this power, the darkness faded away. Before her, as if lighting up the surrounding area, was the artefact she'd seen Shadowheart with all the way back on the ship. It glowed red and swallowed at the darkness, patch by patch as the voice faded away.
"My power grows. My forces gather. The reckoning draws near..."
And then it was gone, as surely as if it had never come at all. For a moment, the artefact shuddered before shooting sharply into the hands of the sorceress.
"The power, it is gone. Due to that artefact," Lae'zel observed as she approached. "Your doing?"
"It wasn't me," Evelyn breathed. In all her travels, she'd never felt power like that before. "And it's Shadowheart's anyway."
She tried to hand it over to the cleric, but just as she'd made to pass it off, it slipped out of her hand and flew right back at her. It was only a fast reaction and her casting Mage Armor that kept it from bouncing off of her skull and knocking her out.
"By what black powers is that thing?" Wyll asked before looking to Shadowheart.
"It is no black power. That is a githyanki relic," the warrior breathed before turning harshly to Shadowheart. "How did you come to be in possession of an item of my people."
"It doesn't matter," the cleric insisted.
"We were nearly possessed, I think," Lavare pointed out. "Shadowheart, it's not in me to pry, but even I have to admit you need to trust us. Please."
"I… that is… Oh very well," the half-elf relented. "I am a cleric of Shar, the Lady of Loss and Secrets. I was sent to retrieve that artefact and take it to Baldur's Gate."
"Why?" Lae'zel demanded.
"I don't know."
"So help me, I will cut you down!"
"I said I don't know!" Shadowheart insisted. "And it's the truth! Before my mission, I lost my memories. They were taken from me and the others I went with on this mission with. I remember plenty, living in the church, who I am, who raised me, but the details of this mission are lost to me as well as some other things. Probably to keep certain secrets safe."
"You worship Shar?" Gale asked. "Blimey. She and my beloved Mystra are not exactly friends."
"That is rather interesting," Astarion noted in agreement. "You don't seem the type though. Much too cheerful."
"You must be joking," Shadowheart sneered.
"Maybe," he replied coyly.
"Whatever it is, whoever wants it, I think it's pretty clear it's the only thing that just kept our bacon from getting cooked," Karlach pointed out before looking out at the road leading to the pass. "And… I dunno. All of a sudden that way don't look too friendly to me."
"Perhaps other alternatives before the creche would be worth looking into," Gale agreed.
"What? That is nonsense," Lae'zel replied. "We will waste what time we have chasing false leads."
"You want to keep going, you go right ahead," Evelyn replied. "But the artefact stays with us, at least until we can figure out what's going on with it."
She was eyeing it closely, trying to figure out exactly what had happened before. This thing had kept them from obeying, kept them from being forced to submit.
Did it also perhaps have something to do with their lack of transformation? It seemed too big of a coincidence to ignore, but without utter proof it didn't seem safe to rely on it either. They needed a surefire solution one way or the other.
"For now, let's head back to the grove. Perhaps we can find answers there, or at the very least get some leads on the goblins. We still have that druid to worry about after all," she decided. "Anyone else in favor of still looking into the creche?"
She wasn't surprised when Lae'zel was the only one who nodded her head, and the warrior snarled.
"I am not about to leave a relic of my people with outsiders. I will stick with the group for now," she agreed. "But I insist on being able to carry it."
"I don't think that will work," Shadowheart said. "Feel free to try if you like, but I've noticed things about it since I started carrying it. There seems to be a sort of… sense to it, like it has wants of its own. You all saw it. It went to Evelyn. It seems for now she's the one stuck with it."
"Will that be a problem when we reach Baldur's Gate?" the sorceress asked.
"Probably, but we're not there yet so it's not an issue now. I'll worry about things to come when it's a little closer," the cleric said. "If you die, it might just come back to me, or it will have to be overpowered. It's not the first magical item a ceremony had to be performed on to get it to behave. For now, it's just as safe in your pack as it is mine."
She turned her head to see Lae'zel, and Evelyn had to admit, the githyanki did not seem at all pleased with everything that has transpired in the last hour.
"Maybe safer," Shadowheart amended.
With a lack of anything better to do, they headed back to the grove, ending up there by the time it was dark. It seemed resting for a little while was just what was required, and Evelyn wasn't surprised when the group all split up in order to see to their own needs. Gale stuck close to her, and she made the first stop to keep her promise and to buy him a little pick me up.
"Does it matter how powerful the item is?" she asked him as she eyed a pillow with several rings on them. They were all much more reasonably priced than the armors and weapons, but would cheap could mean less powerful.
"Ugh. You'll have to speak slowly," he admitted with a groan. "I'm finding it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten."
"What is it with you and cats?" she murmured, though it was mostly to mask her concern. He looked much worse than he did just hours ago. Whatever was wrong, it was serious. Feeling it was best just to empty her pouch than risk something awful happening, she ended up picking up a dagger thrumming with magical energies. Luckily, the swords and bows they'd snatched from the corpses of those githyanki made for a decent trade and she didn't have to part with too much coin.
"Please tell me this will do," she said as she handed it off to Gale.
"Oh, this is most gratifying," he replied as he took it happily. "Mmm, I would prefer to do this someplace private though, if you don't mind?"
"Right, right," she said. "The riverbank will probably still be empty since we killed those harpies. Let's go there, if you can manage the walk."
"Ha! I'm not that old yet," he said with a laugh, but when he stumbled halfway there and she had to catch him by the chest, he looked nothing but sheepish.
"Don't. Just… just let's go," she said as she half helped him walk and half dragged him there so he could do… whatever he needed to do.
"I must admit, I find this most embarrassing," he confessed once they reached the banks of the little river. "I must look quite the pathetic sight to you."
"Actually, I was thinking this must be very serious if it's bringing someone as powerful as you to your knees like this," she admitted.
"Powerful? You think I'm powerful?" he asked, his face awash with both surprise and delight.
"I… I think you were," she said carefully. Overly praised wizards were not good ideas. Their egos got much too big too quickly. "I've seen you fight, seen you cast. Your movements are too practiced for a beginner, even if the spells you wield are far from the strongest, and I know it's not you. The same thing happened to me. The magics I could once cast would put most to shame, but now some cantrips are a struggle. It's getting better day by day, but something definitely drained us. Wyll has mentioned the same thing with his abilities and I know for a fact Lavare is not performing at her peak at the moment. Your pronunciation on the verbal components is like listening to you speak in another language, you are so fluent. Whatever you are now, it is not a reflection of what you used to be."
"Archmage," he confessed and despite herself she felt her eyes widen.
"An archmage. You? You achieved the highest magics known to mortals? I mean, not to make it sound like you couldn't but you look so young compared to what most archmages are," she asked. Oh yes, so much for not inflating his ego.
This time he didn't look proud of himself. In fact, his expression was downright sullen.
"It was a long time ago, and it wasn't the parasite that changed it," he sighed out. "It's my condition. I once had powers so great it would have caused some to weep in jealousy, but when I was afflicted, I lost it all. Truth be told, since the little invasion of our minds, I've been able to grow stronger. Whatever knocked all of you down seems to have unlocked the thing holding my talents back. It's all a mystery still."
"Do you think it's like Durge's memory, that the worms are all affecting us differently?" she asked him.
"I don't know. Honestly, I think we need to be very, very careful," he said. "Speaking of… you might want to step back. I've done this countless times but it's never been around another caster of magic before. I'd hate for you to get caught in the crossfire."
She nodded and gave him some distance, but she did find that she was curious. Watching as he took the knife, he held it close to his torso. For a moment, lines on his chest lit up past his clothing, creeping up his throat and to his eye. Details that had been so faint before pulsed with power, so strong she couldn't believe she had missed them before. The dagger shattered into pieces too small to even see and the Weave coming from it literally seeped down into his skin before slowly the markings faded away.
"Ah, that hit the spot," he sighed out and smiled at her. "I can feel it work. The magic is like a lullaby that sings to sleep the demon inside. A metaphorical demon I haste to point out, but no less dangerous and no less bound to wake up again to continue its ravages. Such is the nature of all monsters."
"I'm just glad you're alright," she replied. "Your condition is clearly unpleasant, and whatever it is, I don't want it spilling out onto my sister."
"Neither do I," he assured her. "Though it's not so bad once you get used to it, and on the bright side my tower in Waterdeep has never been so free of clutter."
"Uh huh," she replied as she eyed him critically.
"Sincerely though, I understand I ask a lot from you with few answers in return but in time all will be told," he assured her.
She wanted to know why not now. She wanted to demand just what he was still keeping from her, but it wasn't as if she'd gone out of her way to be a confidant. He seemed better. Maybe that was enough for now.
No, no it wasn't.
"You don't have to tell me the why, but I want to understand the how," she insisted. "You owe me that at the very least."
"Well, I don't think-"
"I am not asking," she insisted. "Everyone in this group has secrets, pacts with devils, murderous intentions, blood thirst, and who knows what else. You can tell me something."
"Makes me wonder what secrets you are keeping though," he murmured before nodding his head. "I suppose you are right though. What do you wish of me?"
"Open your shirt."
"I-I-I beg your pardon!" he gasped out, his cheeks flushing. She watched as he actually grabbed his robes and clutched them tighter to his chest.
"You heard me," she said. "Those lines on your chest. They lit up when you ate that artefact. Let me see them. Maybe some answers lay there."
"I really don't get undressed in front of strangers. Not even my cat has seen HEY NOW!"
She'd put up with him dithering enough, and she lunged for him, not willing to hear any more protests. If she was going to risk a man who could literal eat magic being near her or her sister, she was going to know why. Letting him try to talk his way out of it would just be an hour of him blathering.
"Take your clothes off!"
"No! Get away from me!" he demanded as she grabbed at him. "Now really, this is very unbecoming behavior from a lady, Evelyn!"
"I said do it!" she demanded as she tackled him and wrestled him to the ground. She wasn't the strongest person in the world, far from it, but she was fast and she was able to get on top of the wizard fairly easily. Pinning him to the wet sands, she snarled at him. "I am so sick of every single person in this party making my life difficult. Now take your top off or so help me the next magic item I give you will be an old enchanted boot!"
His face beat red and looking properly chastised, he nodded his head.
"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled softly. "May… May I sit up at the very least?"
"Try to throw me off and I'll cast hold Hold Person faster than you can blink," she warned, but did back up just enough to give him the freedom to sit up. Settling herself on his legs, she watched as he slowly shed the layers, exposing his chest.
The first thing she noticed that he was much better well built than she had thought. His robes did nothing for him, hiding a physique she wouldn't have guessed from a wizard. Her eyes trailed over him until seeing… she wasn't even sure how to describe it. To the naked eye it might have looked like a bruise on top of a poorly colored tattoo, but there was a thrum inside of it, something deep and pulling.
It was like looking down into a pit, dark, endless, and dangerous if she were to tumble down into it. It was like a void and her fingers itched as she slowly reached out. They got closer and closer before a hand gripped her wrist and stopped her.
"Don't," he said, his voice a mix of a warning and pleading with her. "It's dangerous."
"It just ate. Would it really need more now?" she asked him, but her hand did still at his prompting. She didn't exactly want to get eaten herself.
"Probably not," he admitted. "It's always hungry but I've learned how to keep it at bay."
"Do you cast spells on it?" she asked.
"I've never thought to," he replied.
Evelyn chewed on her bottom lip, more than a little curious. She couldn't help but be. She'd never once seen something like this, and she yearned to know how it functioned.
Because she was concerned it might hurt her sister. Right, that was it. Catastrophe and all that.
"May I?" she asked him, to which he wordlessly nodded. Slipping her gloves off, she traced a finger over his mark, circling over his chest. She paused at the sound of him taking in a sharp breath, shuddering under her. "Does it hurt?"
"No, not exactly," he admitted. "It can… Evelyn, it can sense you're near. It's… very hungry."
Well, maybe she should feed it then. Her fingers flared a bit with magic, working the words softly for the cantrip before lights danced off of her fingers, dancing around lazily like dandelion stalks caught in the wind. For a moment, they were just drifting between the two of them until Gale's chest lit up and the spell faded to nothing.
"Well, that was interesting," she mused before his arms grabbed her and she was rolled over onto her back. "Oooph! Gale, what-"
She was cut off by the look of pure thirst in his eyes, breathing hard.
"It's… it's never been like that," he groaned out, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "It's always been… clinical, no real taste to it. You… you really are like fire-whiskey. That's what I tasted before, in the air around you."
"Are you alright?" she asked. He certainly looked very unstable.
"It's probably best that I knew that others casting magic so close to me had some effect," he replied, his tone a bit strained, even as he continued to talk. "Yet, I didn't feel like that when Shadowheart has healed me before. Is it you? Is it the magic inside of you?"
"Perhaps we should experiment a bit more," she offered but he shook his head.
"No. No, thank you but this could be dangerous. Best to stick to the tried and true method," he whispered even as his hand trailed down her arm and found hers to bring it up. He gazed at her fingers, swallowing hard. "Yes, very dangerous."
The air seemed to crackling as their fingers touched, and she was starting to become warm. Heat flushed in her, her magic reacting to his as their digits interlocked. It was the most sensual feeling she'd experienced since her magic had first erupted in her when she'd been but a girl.
"Oh… dangerous… yes," she breathed, unable to stop staring up at him. Something inside of her yearned to push forward anyway, to touch him, touch the marking. She wanted to be part of it, like it was calling to her. He was calling to her.
"Gale," she breathed, staring at him. "What… what are you?"
"A man and a very weak one at that," he breathed in reply. "Evelyn, this isn't wise. You shouldn't tease me like this."
"I'm not trying to tease you," she replied softly. She wasn't sure exactly what she was doing. All of a sudden her reasoning seemed so flawed. His secrets were his own, and he clearly wasn't a threat at the moment. Still, for some reason it had seemed utterly inexcusable for her to not know, to be away from those markings. "I just… I want to understand it."
"Of course, to make sure it doesn't hurt you sister," he said.
"Exactly," she agreed.
"Then why are you getting so close to me if you think I'm a threat to her?" he asked pointedly.
That was a very good question and it bothered her that she really didn't seem to have an answer for him.
"So… it eats magic?" she asked him softly, even though that seemed a very well-established fact by now. Ah, good old avoidance.
"Yes, to its very core," he replied. "I've never seen a single item ever survive the process, no matter if it was a little trinket or an item of great power and abilities. This thing inside of me eats all, without recourse. I do not know what it would do to you, and I am just as happy to not find out. It stole my magic. I would hate to see it do the same to you."
Yes, yes that was a very good point. So why could she not move? Why did her head feel so fuzzy when she was so close to him? Evelyn was always the cautious one, the smart one who looked after her sister. It was not in her nature to poke things that might blow up in her face. So what was this… this calling? Something about the moment seemed hypnotic, special.
Shaking her head to clear it, she pulled her hand away from his. The snap of magic broken seemed to destroy whatever she had been experiencing, leaving her only feeling shame and humiliation. Pushing at his chest a bit, he seemed out of it for a moment before he sat up as well and allowed her to roll out from underneath of him.
"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," she said. She held out her hand to help him up, feeling more than a little foolish for how she'd acted around him.
"It should be flattering for a woman to lose her composure that much over me but I agree that perhaps such a thing should be avoided from now on."
"I agree, or at the very least with some safeguards in place," she said before rubbing at the back of her neck. "It's been a very busy and confusing day. I think I need to just read for a bit. I'll go the grove's library. You… you can join me if you like. Two heads are better than one and all that."
"I've seen some of their books. It's not the biggest collection. Do you think they'll actually posses a tomb that will have any clues to the problems we've been facing lately?"
"No, she answered honestly. "But I don't really don't want to think on my own anymore. Even if I don't find anything, it would be nice to be out of my own head for a bit."
"Fair enough," he said as he closed his robes back up.
"I… I really am sorry about that. I don't… I don't act like that normally. It was stupid," she said as she rubbed at her face. "Really stupid."
"I won't take offense," he said with a little grin. "At the very least, I did learn something interesting about my condition. I'm still dying to know if Rolan can taste your magic as well."
"I guess I owe you that," she found herself agreeing. "As long as you can find a tactful way to ask him. I'm not about to allow random wizards to just start sniffing me."
"My lady, you wound me. I would never suggest something so crass," he laughed, and she felt a bit of a smile tug at her lips as well.
"You're so weird," she commented before making her way off away from the waters.
She wasn't going able to sleep, so she might as well be productive tonight, even if it did feel like a fruitless venture. It took some convincing to Nettie to let the pair go in and stay there, but she ended up spending the night there by the end. Book after book, scroll after scroll, endless words that did not help their current predicaments but she buried herself into anyway. Books had always been one of her greatest loves, ink on parchment soothing her soul when nothing else could.
As a girl she'd spent so much time reading, learning, especially those lonely years when her sister had gone off to train to become a paladin with her father and she'd been… alone. Alone to find her own way, and she had stumbled along the whole time. No one had felt like home when she'd been waiting for Lavare, not Baldur's Gate, not the road, not companions she took into her arms and to bed. Only the words seemed to help.
She wasn't sure when Gale ended up next to her, if she had wanted to show him something or the other way around. It had just happened, the two next to each other, sitting together in a little stone alcove as he lit up the night with his fingers and their eyes scrolled over the same tomb. He felt more comfortable than the rock and moss, so she had leaned into him until she started to drift off.
It was with a book on their collective laps that they eventually fell asleep, and it wasn't until the morning that she finally roused with a blanket on her lap. Confused, she looked around to see none other than her sister sleeping at her feet, shivering in the cold of the morning.
"Lavare. You… you foolish little girl," she breathed before scooting closer to bring it over the both of them. She noticed Gale shudder as she pulled the blanket from him and sighed before gently easing Lavare where she'd been sitting and the two were pressed together under the blanket as she did without. Crossing her arms over her chest, she smiled ruefully.
This whole thing worried her. The parasite, the artefact, her own teammates that were with them out of survival rather than companionship, and her sweet and trusting sister entangling herself to strangers. Yet, she wasn't worried about Gale anymore. Whatever he was, whatever troubled him, it didn't change the fact he was a good man. Even Evelyn wasn't so paranoid and bitter to think that didn't count for something. Besides, better Gale around Lavare then other men in their less than merry little band.
"Wants to consume the world," she breathed, remembering her mother's words from so long ago. A teller of fortunes as well as an alchemist, she'd had a flair for the dramatic, but every once in a while she gave a real pearl of wisdom. She'd once spoken of a man who her sister would meet, who would consume her and Lavare would allow it. Now she had two men with very dangerous appetites to worry about. Yet, she founded she trusted a Gale a lot more than she did the elf.
Notes:
Fun fact, in my playthrough as Evelyn, I allowed Astarion to bite me a grand total of one time and one time only. No, I don't care if it makes you happy, vampire, I'm not taking that debuff. When playing Lavare? Oh yeah, every morning when I woke up the first thing I did was invite him over the next night. I never had a negative score with him, and I helped him in his quest line, but they never really did like each other all that much. What can I say? I'm a sucker for the role in play.
Also, when I created this bitter character, I found myself bullying Gale but still giving him everything he needed with this idea of having a rivalry with him and… it just didn't work. He still ended up really liking me and just spilled his secrets and started the whole, "Oh, you're such a good person and I really like you," and I was all, "Uh, I'm sorry. What?" I don't know if he was still glitched to just fall hard for you fast, but this didn't happen with Lavare who I played first so… I don't know. It also kind of took me off when I met Tara and realized these two were very, very similar in temperament. I don't know, maybe the guy just likes to be bullied.
Chapter 6: How Dare You?
Notes:
I'll give the warning that this chapter has some very heavy themes of Astarion's backstroy, his pain, and why he acts the way he does. It will be dark at certain points. Warning also for vivid descriptions of his hunting and feeding habits. If hunting animals bothers you, there is a segment of the chapter you may wish to skim past.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Astarion knew from the first time he saw it that he was not a fan of the druid's grove. They all acted rather holier than thou, and the tieflings all seemed to need something or other all the damn time. A few of the children were amusing, and admittedly, he had played with them a bit by showing them interesting tricks and making it clear he knew what kind of scams they were attempting to play on him before pointing out more likely victims. Still, overall it was a rather miserable place and he didn't really feel much desire to stay there.
The group had decided that this was where they were going to stay for the night though, in some attempt to allow tempers to cool and keep things from falling apart. Personally, he'd been enjoying the chaos of seeing Shadowheart and Lae'zel bump heads so badly, and Durge was simply delightful from how violent she was, but it seemed he was the only one getting any kind of pleasure from the situation.
He wasn't opposed to the party becoming a more cohesive unit. It was funny this way, but there was safety in numbers and if any of them ended up coming to blows then it was going to be bad for everyone, but especially him. One could never have too many meat shields after all. Lae'zel did very well as a frontline fighter, keeping the danger at bay, but Shadowheart was valuable with her ability to heal. They didn't have the resources to just make due on just potions, and while Lavare did the best she could, her abilities in healing magic was severely limited in comparison to the half-elf. Truthfully, he didn't want to lose any of them for their uses.
Though… he had noticed Lavare healed him more often than Shadowheart did. Of course, he was good at avoiding getting hit, but even he wasn't perfect, hard as he tried to be. Yet at the end of every fight, the paladin seemed to be there, ready to patch him up. Ready nothing, she seemed happy to do it, maybe even eager. There was always a soft smile on her lips when she approached him and asked him if he needed help or was hurt.
And the fact she always seemed to get in front of him whenever danger reared its ugly head hadn't escaped his notice either. When it seemed like Mizora was going to actually strike at him for his comments, she'd thrown herself in between the two, actually shoving the vampire behind her to shield him from any kind of harm. Astarion was not used to being protected, it so rare that someone might actually give a damn enough about his welfare to want to help him.
Dalyria would sometimes try, sneaking him bandages when she could, but only when she was positive she would not be caught. All of his siblings were so terrified of Cazador that it was extremely rare for any of them to risk displeasing him for the sake of any of the other spawn. While the bastard did insist they were all a family, and Astarion did have various levels of affection for the other spawn, he probably would never stick his neck out for any of them either, so it all sort of evened out.
Lavare though? She was different. She was all too happy to trip over herself to assist him, to protect him. Any fool could have seen it. In fact, he knew her sister certainly had, often trying to make excuses to get between the two. While Lavare seemed utterly blind to what kind of creature he really was, Evelyn was all too aware. Not that he really needed to worry about it. Lavare regarded him as part of the group and didn't want to see him leave, so it's not like there was actually a threat to Evelyn getting her way and forcing him out.
He had to admit, it was nice to have his own personal little protector. Almost like a bodyguard, really. A valuable commodity to be sure, though he felt he could do more to secure it. Right now he felt Lavare acted as she did because it was expected of her, her Oath and all that. She was a rare person who genuinely wanted to be helpful to others around her, but he was no fool. She'd offer that protection to anyone who she felt needed it. Her heart bled for any sob story she came across.
Astarion wanted more. He wanted her to be focused entirely on him, to be unable to bear the thought of losing him. He knew he had his value to the party, the only one who could handle a lock-pick to save his life, but he needed something a lot more personal to secure her to his favor.
Sleeping together was the obvious solution, even if he felt disgusted by it. While he was a natural flirt, he'd long since lost the enjoyment of carnal activities. It was easier just to pretend it wasn't happening, but that had been when he'd acted under Cazador's orders. If it was his own choice, perhaps it would be more bearable. He'd probably have to give her a lot of attention. She seemed the kind who enjoyed being affectionate, so he'd have to make sure he played the charm right and gave her enough sex to satisfy her. On the bright side, he didn't think it would be particularly difficult to get her to go along with it. She did seem to like him a fair amount, and when he bit her there was clearly a reaction of pleasure.
Yes, this shouldn't be too hard, as long as he could find the right moment to proposition her.
Not tonight though. He was rather hungry after dealing with those damn githyanki, and he knew for a fact all the animals at the grove were off limits. He couldn't even bite any of them on the sly, knowing they were surrounded by plenty of people who would be able to ask any animal that fell to fatigue what had happened, and if any of them ended up dead and bloodless it would be even worse.
He'd have to go hunting again. On the bright side, at least he was getting rather good at it. He hadn't been sure how it would go at first, two hundred years without a single night of practice, but it seemed instinct was not to be discounted. He found it easy to stalk down the trees and find prey, to sneak up on them unseen and unheard before he pounced and feasted. Turned out he was a very effective hunter, his very being built to catch others unaware.
"Hello, Astarion!" Lavare cried out happily behind him, causing the vampire to jump and spin around on her, hissing in angry surprise before he caught himself. She actually giggled a bit. "Did I really just catch you off guard? That's a first. You looked so deep in thought I couldn't help myself."
"I'm glad I'm so amusing to you," he grumbled. "It'll be the only time it happens. My guard is up now."
"To be fair, I'm fairly sure you could easily sneak up on me," she mused. "I'm actually surprised you haven't yet."
"Oh?" he asked. "Is that some kind of game you'd want to play?"
"Well, I meant more for feeding from me," she confessed to him.
"Lavare, I'm not going to do that without your express permission," he assured her, though he had to admit being allowed to at any time was very, very tempting. She tasted so sweet, it would be so easy to just give and drain the silly little thing dry. She really needed to act as his self-control or he could very easily go overboard.
If there was anything that would get the others to chase him off, it would be killing one of them in his thirst.
"I know," she said kindly as she took his hand in her own. She certainly was touchy-feely, wasn't she? He didn't complain though. It would only make seducing her all the easier. "But still, if you ever need it for any reason at all, I want you to know I'm more than willing to help."
"Why, aren't you a generous little sweetheart?" he cooed, reaching out and poking her nose to appear playful. "I do have to make sure I don't take too much from you though, as tempting as you are. If I go overboard it would be all too easy to hurt you."
"Shadowheart has mentioned the same thing to me," she mused. "She said if she could manage to cast Greater Restoration on me after feeding you, it wouldn't affect me at all."
"Can she cast it?" he asked and the paladin shook her head.
"Not anymore, but we seem to steadily be gaining our strength back. Maybe in the future she can, and you can drink more," she offered.
"Something to look forward to," he admitted. To be able to take as much as he wanted without any real consequences? He was too much of a selfish bastard to turn down such a generous offer given to him so freely. "Lavare, I want you to know I appreciate how good you are to me. I do notice all the effort you go to just for my sake."
"Oh, it's no trouble," she said, though her cheeks turned a noticeable shade of pink. "I just want you to be happy."
"Why?" he found himself asking.
"Why not?" she replied.
"That's not an answer," he stated, but she only smiled.
"Sure it is. It's just not the one you expected," she informed him, and he once again had to wonder if she only pretended to be unintelligent because that was an oddly sound answer from her. "There's no reason not to help you, Astarion. It's important to give assistance where I can, and… well, the world seems to have been very dark for you for a very long time. If I can bring you some light, then I should."
"Your oath then," he mused. "You're doing it because you have to."
"I'm doing it because I want to," she stressed. "My oath isn't something that was forced onto me or something I took just to gain my abilities. I took this oath because it's something I believe in. I want to help others. I want to help you, Astarion."
It was almost insulting how easy she was making this. More than often he had to get his mark drunk and flirt them up like crazy to get this rolling, but she was practically ripping her shirt open and demanding that he take advantage of her. Getting her to agree to anything carnal was going to be pathetically easy. If only his stomach would stop rolling at the thought of the two of them touching one another in such a way.
Fucking her wouldn't be the worst thing he'd ever had to do. Hells, it wouldn't even make the top one hundred in just this year alone. She was lovely, and for the first time in a long time it would be his choice, yet the fact that this was the only card he really had to play made him feel disgusted with himself. He needed her to feel more than just a need to help and protect him. He needed her to be desperate to keep him around, to be willing to do anything and everything required to keep him safe. That was going to take a lot more than just simply asking her for protection. He would need to make her utterly dependent on him, and deep down he knew the only thing of any real value he had to offer was his body for such a deep level of devotion.
"I'll keep your generosity in mind," he promised softly, luckily so used to this game he was able to keep his honest feelings from his expression. "For now, I have to go and do some hunting. I'm feeling ravished."
Lavare hesitated for a second, why he didn't know, until she spoke again.
"Would you like me to come with you?" she offered.
"What? You mean to hunt?" he asked her, confused. "Why?"
"I could help you bag something larger than rabbits," she said. "Maybe another boar."
"Are you allowed to kill animals?" he asked as he eyed her closely. "Isn't that against your code?"
"You're thinking about the druids here," she replied with a shake of her head. "The Oath of the Ancients is all about the balance of nature as well as kindness to others who need it. Animals eat other animals, and I'm not an exception to that. I'm no vegetarian."
He supposed that did make sense. He had seen her eat meat before, now that he thought of it. Granted, he had seen her talk to animals too. Then again, he supposed he was the last person who needed to worry about the morality of eating things that he could converse with.
"Something large would be nice," he admitted. "But you're so much louder than me in the woods. Sure you won't scare everything off?"
He was probably being a bit harsh. It's not she was clumsy or anything. In fact, she was rather comfortable in nature, able to navigate it easier that the others, but he could glide around anywhere easily enough. People didn't hear him unless he wanted them to. She'd practically be making a racket in comparison.
"I'll be careful," she promised him sincerely.
"Very well, since you insist," he agreed. "I suppose it couldn't hurt, but if by any chance we don't catch anything, I'm going to take my frustrations out on you and give you a nibble."
"Fair enough," she agreed with a smile. "I'll go get my crossbow and bolts. Meet you by the entrance?"
"Alright," he said with a nod.
He waited for her a bit, her arms crossed over his chest. He'd never hunted with anyone before. His siblings tended to stay far from him when he scored his conquests, and the others usually preferred solitude to work as well. It was always a contest to see who could bring in the most to their master. Dar would often want someone with her, just to watch her back, but she was a rather timid creature. She'd always been the softest among them, and that might have been why she was his favorite. The others were vile, wicked, much like him. They'd been shaped to be that way, and while Dar killed too, she still had a vestige of good in her, a hope that maybe one day things could get better.
Funnily enough, he couldn't help but think she and Lavare would get on swimmingly. At least until the compulsion to drag her back to Cazador took over.
What would she be like without that drive to follow their master's orders though? What if she'd become infected too, along for the ride on the road with him and free of the commands and weaknesses of being a vampire spawn? Would she risk going back? Run for her life? Would she stick with the group in hopes they could help her or maybe she could cure them?
She had been a doctor before all of this, and a good one from what she'd told him about herself over the years. Maybe she could even figure out how to get the worm under their control. Well, she was a far ways away and there was no way to contact her. Besides, if they crossed path she'd be compelled to tell their master. No sense in pondering what if's that would in no way help him.
The sound of footsteps pulled him from his pondering and he glanced up to see the paladin approaching him, sans her armor. For the best. The clinking and clanking of the metal would only make it harder for them to catch any animal unaware. Still, the fact he had already heard her did make him want to make a scathing comment about her ability to stay quiet. He refrained though, knowing it was practically impossible to insult her. She never seemed to realize even when someone was being rude to her, which took a lot of the fun out of it.
"Ready to go?" he asked her.
"Uh huh," she said with a nod, just in her clothes and with her crossbow in her hands, along with a large bag on her side. "Once we make a catch, you can have your meal and I'll take care of the rest of the meat. It'll be nice to have some deer for dinner for a couple days."
"Have you hunted game a lot before?" he asked.
"Several times," she said. "When I was training with my father I was expected to catch my own dinner often. It was for building discipline."
"Sounds awful," he said as they made their way to leave the grove.
"Oh no. It was wonderful," she said. "The whole experience was. Of course, it was difficult. There were some days that the training was so intense I was sore all over by the end of the day, but I felt happy and fulfilled. Seeing my dad for such a long stretch of time was also nice. Before I went to him to become a paladin, it was only short visits. With him it was two uninterrupted years of time spent with him."
"Doesn't seem as if he gave you much attention," he mused.
"He was busy a lot," she admitted. "I would have liked to see more of him, but I understood his mission and oath was very important to him. I just feel lucky that I was able to know him at all."
"Ah yes. Your sister said her own father met an untimely demise when she was very young. I suppose that is a risk when having adventures for parents," he said. "I wouldn't know myself."
"What were your parents like?" she asked, but he only shook his head. Truthfully… he didn't really remember them too well. Vague shapes in his past, but nothing stood out. He didn't remember being treated poorly by them, but after two centuries of Cazador literally anything would be kind in comparison so who knew if they'd been awful or loving. He had a feeling they'd cared about him but like so many things in his past, the agony and fear had painted over anything good before his vampirism. Even with trancing, he'd lost so much of himself to his damned existence.
"Lost to my past I'm afraid," he admitted to her and he saw her face morph to one of sadness. "Now don't make that face. To them I am long gone. They probably left the city in their grief. Better they think me at peace."
"I'm so sorry," she said. "That was insensitive of me."
"No. We're getting to know each other, on this little journey of ours," he said as he stopped suddenly. They'd gone far enough they were fully in the woods now, and he caught her hand to stop her too, as well as turn her to face him. "How are we going to get to know each other better if we can't ask questions? You know more about me now than most I've spoken to over the years, and I'm getting to like knowing you."
"Really?" she asked him, a little sparkle of delight in her eyes.
"I think you're the most honest person I've ever met, actually," he laughed. "I didn't think I'd like an honest person but you're proving me very wrong."
"Being honest isn't really that rare," she insisted but he only chuckled at her.
"It's less common than lies," he pointed out. "There are so many people out there who would carelessly weave a web of information to get what they wanted. It doesn't even have to be malicious, just a way to accomplish a goal. People will always present their best sides to others, even if that best side is a total lie."
"Not everyone is like that," she breathed.
"Yes they are," he replied.
"You're not like that," she insisted softly.
"You really think that, don't you?" he scoffed. Why the hell was she handing herself over so easily to him? It's like she wanted to be lied to!
"Astarion, ever since the crash, you've helped people. You've been along with me, helping the tieflings, fighting those harpies, assisting in trying to keep both Karlach and Wyll safe," she stated.
"Those are advantages," he scoffed. "And I've killed more than I've saved."
"When you had no choice," she said with a shake of her head. "You were compelled. Controlled. That isn't a stain on your soul. When you have a chance, a real chance and a choice, you help too."
Her hands gripped his and she smiled up at him, causing him to feel fidgety. She really did wanted to see something in him, didn't she? He wasn't sure if he found her naivety repulsive or something to take advantage of. The vampire imagined cupping her chin and drawing her into a kiss, to lean her back against a tree and just taste of her in every carnal way possible. He couldn't imagine she'd fight him, that she would welcome his advances, would allow him to touch and fondle her soft flesh all too happily.
Which is maybe why he didn't do it. He would eventually, but later. She was already so willing to be his bodyguard. Tipping her over could come later. They were nowhere near Baldur's Gate yet after all. If he could put off that chore for a bit, then he was perfectly fine with it. Lavare was a lovely creature. He would have even looked forward to her bedding when he'd been first turned, back when his attitude had been that he might as well enjoy himself before the whole act had left him feeling disgusted with himself and the whole act. Yes, there was no real need to rest. This wasn't a case of having a single night to get a meal off to his master. There was time.
The sense of relief that he didn't have to push himself inside of her actually felt comforting, and that was enough to assure him he was making the right choice to put it off. He could put more time and effort into seducing her, could put off the grand finale until later.
"I think you see the good in people more because you want to and less because something is genuinely there," he said as he pulled his hands away and gently poked her nose. "Still, that attitude did allow me to stay in the camp when the others might have kicked me out. I can't say I'm entirely opposed to being seen as a good person… or at the very least not as bad as I could be."
He added a little chuckle at the end of his sentence, to show both his kidding attitude and that he was not entirely taking the conversation utterly seriously. He played the charming fool pretty well, after all. There was no reason to change that. When she giggled a bit with him, he shot her a smile and felt himself pleased at her attitude.
"I suppose no one is perfect," she admitted. "But you're no monster. I don't think so anyway."
"Thank you," he replied, finding he was actually grateful to her for the sentiment. For so long he'd been a tool, a slave, that it felt refreshing to be seen as someone capable of making his own choices. To her, he wasn't good because he had to be, he was just doing good things because deep down he wanted to. It wasn't true. If being a complete and utter bastard had a higher chance of getting him safely home then he'd do that instead, but he still liked that she saw it.
"Oh, look," she said as she looked over his shoulder. Curious, he turned his head slightly to glance at what she was indicating toward when he saw it. The stag was large, very large, even as a city dweller he could see that. The creature was far off, only visible due to it's size, in between the wood and leaves of the forest, its dark brown fur blending in very easily in the shadows of the night time.
"Mmm, dinner came rather early," he mused, crouching down low. It hadn't seemed to notice them just yet, but he had a feeling if he wasn't very careful in trying to sneak up on it then it was going to bolt in fear and even he wouldn't be fast enough to catch up to it.
"Wait, I'm going to try to get a shot in," she whispered as she readied her crossbow. It wouldn't be an easy shot, Astarion knew that, but if she could at least get it in the flank then it would slow the beast down.
"Aim for its side," he instructed. "Wait until I can get closer."
"Okay," she agreed with a nod of her head.
He moved as quickly as he dared, careful to avoid anything that might crunch underneath his feet. The last thing he needed was to snap some branch or the like and startle his meal. It would just be embarrassing after stressing to her to be careful not to make any kind of noise.
When he'd crossed about half of the distance, he slowly raised his hand and pointed a finger to the stag, indicating her to shoot. Sure enough, moments later a bolt flew past and buried itself deep into the animal's hindquarters. Astarion sprang forward then, sprinting the rest of the way as the animal reared back in pain and prepared to run. Luckily, Astarion was quicker and slammed into the creature, nimbly clinging onto its back as it flailed and bucked. His teeth and claws sunk into the flesh of his meal, red rivers of blood seeping out underneath of his fingers and teeth as he drank. It didn't give up the fight quickly, and he had to hang on firmly as it fought to try and get the vampire off of its back, but as he drank and stole its strength, two more bolts hit the animal in the side.
The panic of the animal eventually settled down, exhaustion taking it as well as just the blood loss. Before long it was collapsing weakly to the ground and the life faded from it.
Even in the throes of his feeding, he could hear her approaching him. The blood was distracting, but it made his sense stronger at the same time. She could have been shouting as she walked over to him for how easily he could sense her presence.
"Was it enough?" she asked him, causing him to still instantly and quickly snap his gaze to her. He could hear her heartbeat within her chest. It wasn't quick, wasn't fast at all. There was no fear in her, not of him. She knew what he was and she gave herself over willingly.
The amber liquid still clung to his mouth, dripping from his chin as he stood up slowly. Even as he stepped toward her, her heart rate didn't change. She didn't flinch back, didn't seem to even think there was a reason to.
"I'm still hungry," he hissed, ignoring there was still plenty of the stag that he could drink of. He didn't want it though, didn't want the bland taste of an animal when he had this sweet little creature instead. Even the deer would have run from him if it'd had the chance. She just stood there, as if waiting for him to hunt her.
It couldn't even be ignorance of his intentions. She knew he craved her. Lavare was just utterly okay with it.
He pounced on her before he even considered consciously taking her down. Just one moment they were both upright and then they weren't, him grabbing her and shoving her down to the forest floor. To her credit, her eyes did widen for a moment, seeming to realize she'd allowed him to take her off guard, but he didn't give her time to even think of fighting back. Grabbing her wrists, he slammed them down into the dirt and grass. Yet she didn't yank away. Didn't try to wiggle away, didn't even vocalize a protest.
Was she just allowing it or did she perhaps want this too? Was she actually enjoying being his prey?
"Your sister would tell you to fight back at least a little," he noted, as he brushed his lips against her throat, smearing the blood of the animal on her skin.
"My sister thinks you want to hurt me," the paladin replied.
"She might be right," he warned.
"She's not," Lavare stated easily. "You would have tried something by now if you wanted to hurt me. That's not what you want. I can tell."
"And what do I want?" he breathed in her ear, inhaling the scent of her.
"You want it to be okay. You want someone to care about you," she breathed. "It's alright, Astartion. You're allowed to need that. Everyone does. If this makes you feel okay, then I can give it. I can care about you. I can be what you need."
He should have bit her, should have taken his taste, but something about her words burned inside of him. How… how dare she? How dare she?! As if she had any right to just stomp into his life and act like she could be his personal hero! Astarion ripped himself off as her as if he'd been burned, snarling and shaking in anger.
"You have no right to say that to me!" he snapped at her as he stood up quickly.
"Astation?" she asked as she sat up, clearly taken off guard by the sudden change. "What is it? What's wrong?"
By the gods, she was so fucking stupid! How dare she act like he could save him! How dare she act like she could just fix what he was so easily, as if she was that important, as if people like her hadn't ground his hope into dust ages ago.
"Where have you been? Where have you been, damn you?!" he found himself yelling. Her kindness was making him sick. The smart part of him told him to shut up, to act grateful to her paltry feedings, to string her along for his needs. The rest of him firmly told that part of him to shut the hells up. He was so tired of pretending what his emotions were. He was owed a right to honesty and the truth was he was livid at her.
"I… I'm right here, Astarion," Lavare whispered, tense and looking confused. "I'm… I'm here now."
"And where were you two hundred years ago?! A hundred years ago?! Ten years ago!" he demanded angrily. "Where were you when I was new? When I was actually still something worthwhile? Where were you when I actually had hope of being saved?! An innocent the hero always comes to along to make things right? How dare you? How dare you come to me when I am this?!"
He was too broken to be saved, and he couldn't stand she was treating him like some lost puppy that just needed to be pet and fed and then all the pain would just magically vanish. She had NO RIGHT to treat his agony so casually!
The paladin looked guilty, hanging her head.
"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I… I didn't know. That's no excuse. I wish… I wish I could have saved you."
He found himself sighing softly, his anger cooling and leaving regret for his outburst. She was a human, and a young one at that, even for her race. He'd been turned two hundred years ago. She was but a tenth that age. What could have she possibly done for him? Even if he had met her one lonely night, he wouldn't have told her his tail of woe. She'd have been strung along on sweet lies and false compliments to be led off to her death.
And even if he had, even if she had been stupid enough to be willing to charge the palace for the sake of a beaten and half-starved vampire spawn, she'd be just as dead. Yet… something told him she'd have done it anyway, would have tried her hardest if he had met her back then and labored her with the truth, even if it would have been stupid and surely killed her.
It would be the stupidest paladin in the world to have such kindness for a thing like him.
"It's alright," he found himself breathing. "I forgive you, Lavare."
And deep down, he did. Her ignorance of his torment was not her fault. He honestly doubted she'd never really encountered the kind of evil that had given birth to a thing like him. Of sure, she'd fought off monsters and villains, but the sick and demented horrors that had shaped him? The years of starvation, torment, rape and everything else? She didn't know those pains. And as bitter as he was… he found he couldn't wish that kind of thing on her. She was idiotically naive, and it was probably the only thing keeping her so innocent, but she tried.
Yes, she tried for him, and maybe those efforts were fumbling and not truly understanding what he'd gone through, but her efforts were more kindness than he'd ever received from anyone else in a very long time.
"Are we… okay?" she asked him softly, and he wordlessly nodded his head. He was very glad he hadn't tried to seduce her tonight. It would have been too raw with the way he was feeling. "Do… do you still want to feed on me?"
"I… I think I should avoid it tonight," he admitted with a long sigh. "I… I feel out of sorts. Let's just get the meat back to the camp. I think I lost my appetite anyway."
"Astartion, if you need to talk, I can listen," she offered.
He smiled at her, and it wasn't as false as he would have thought it would have had to have been considering everything.
"I appreciate it, but I think that should wait for another night," he said. "A rain check, if you don't mind?"
"Of course, Astartion. Anything you need," she assured him.
Anything he needed, huh? A wide offer. Easy to take advantage of.
And if he knew what he needed, maybe he would have.
"Let's just chalk it up to the stress of the day and get back to the grove," he said as he knelt back over the deer and took out his knife to start carving the thing. If they stood around talking about all of his complicated feelings for as long as it would take to cover all his feelings, then the damn thing would rot before he was done.
Still, he found he felt a little lighter after his outburst. He'd thought he had to show this certain side of himself to her, charming, funny and even a little sweet. Yet this ugly part of him twisted up in pain and anger didn't scare her away. She accepted it, seemed to even want to understand it. He clearly hadn't given her enough credit before.
Fair weather friends were easy to come by, willing to offer help when convenient but too happy to leave when things got too difficult or tough. She wasn't that though. She really wasn't a mask of sweet smiles and kind words. She really was everything that she presented herself to be.
Astarion could not remember the last time he had encountered that kind of genuine kindness. It had been so long he certainly didn't believe it existed anymore. Yet here Lavare was, willing to do what he asked, to be what he needed, to give herself up to him so that he could have a corner of comfort against all of his pain.
Sure, she didn't understand the extent of his pain. Maybe that was the whole reason she didn't flinch away from it, but then again, maybe not. Maybe even if knew every bloody thing he'd done, every pain he'd suffered, every horror and nightmare that had been inflicted on him, maybe she'd still stay. Perhaps after two hundred years of praying to the gods in some vain hope it would save him, he'd finally been gifted someone who would have actually given enough of a damn to want to do something for him.
When the stag had been properly salvaged, cut and carved and wrapped for later consumption, he laid his hand on hers and brought it to his lips. Softly, ever so softly, he pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand like a prince would do. He could easily imagine her as a little girl, being read stories of princes and knights, off to slay the dragon and save the girl. She probably had a very idealized version of romace, and if she could offer him benignity then at the very least he could offer her the fantasy she probably wanted to see in him.
Her real face had kindness in it. Surely his mask could have the same thing for the time being.
"Thank you for coming out to hunt with me, and to allow me to vent," he said softly.
"Of course, Astarion. It was no trouble," she assured him with a smile.
He hesitated only a moment before leaning in and giving her another kiss, just as soft and simple on her cheek. That one seemed to surprise her, and her wide eyes were rather cute. The black and red of her face that could so easily be confused for demonic was just so sweet and washed with innocent intent that he felt silly for ever thinking that there was something cruel in her when they had first met. Sure, she was simple, but in a way that he could believe what she said to him. That alone was worth valuing.
"Ready to head back?" he asked her, not willing to explore the moment of the kiss. Let her think on it, ponder his intentions and feelings until she began to slip into a desire for him. It could simmer slowly, grow on its own. There was, for once, no real rush.
"I… um… okay," she breathed and gathered up the meat into her bag. He caught the way she would continue to glance at him over and over again, and that alone assured him that he had successfully snagged her.
He didn't suggest anything else, walked her back to the grove like a perfect gentlemen. She didn't ask for an explanation and he didn't offer one. It actually felt comfortable, almost like he wasn't even manipulating her feelings at all. He'd long since shed his guilt over such things anyway, so he couldn't feel bad about this even if he tried. She was, after all, a means to an end, but she was more than that too. It wasn't like she couldn't get something out of this. For all his years on his back, he knew for certain his skills were worth bragging about and he'd be able to give her a most wonderful time once he finally did approach her to offer her a night of sinful pleasure.
For now, this wasn't so bad. Lavare was far from perfect, but he found that he did like her in his own way. It was enough for him to feel more comfortable with the idea of sleeping with her, and that was already much better than many of the other lovers he had encountered over his long life.
Notes:
Oh Astarion. You are… a mess. I do adore you though. I think it's clear that I'm getting full use out of the, 'Astartion has complicated feelings about sex,' tag that I put up with this story. He also could stand to be less insulting to poor Lavare, but as per canon he's not really a nice guy at the start. Don't worry, he'll get better of course. Also, for anyone that would ask, this is a very deliberate homage to the Last Unicorn. That became kind of popular to do with Astarion and I wanted to add to it.
The vampire is very tricky, because of course he is attractive and a lot of fans adore him and want to sex him up. The fact he ends up wanting sex again once he's dealt with Cazador adds to that I think, as he doesn't stay celibate for long. However, he makes it very clear that such actions do bother him and will flat out dump the player if they become too pushy about sex before he's ready. I elected to write it in his own head his thoughts about thinking he needed to play such a card, especially against a potential lover who would have accepted his needs and boundaries right from the start if only he would be truthful and tell her. Of course, he is also utterly right about the fact she'd storm the castle with her sword drawn for his sake, but there's a tragedy that he knows that and still feels he has to do this thing that debases him to ensure for sure that she would.
His sense of worth needs to be tended to just as badly as his other emotional wounds, so that's why I addressed it the way I did.