Lost and Found

by JVC_Talespinner

Summary:

All Jen wanted that winter evening was a quiet walk in the woods to clear her head. She didn’t sign up for an inter-dimensional traveler being dropped in her lap, but now that Astarion is here, she’s got to figure out how he’s here. Why he’s here. And what the hell to do with the vampire who’s suddenly portaled into her suburban life.

Set about a century after the events of Baldur’s Gate 3 and the fall of the Elder Brain, follow Astarion as he figures out how the hells to navigate this new plane he’s stumbled into with the help of his weird little guide. With any luck, between the two of them, they’ll be able to complete the quest he originally set out on.

Notes:

Mostly written in Jen's POV, with occasional glimpses into Astarion's POV. There will eventually be biting, blood drinking, and smut, but in the meantime there is plenty of awkwardness, hilarity, and sexual tension. Please enjoy this chaos responsibly!

Chapter 1: Who the Hells are You?

1. Who the Hells are You?

 

Gods, there was no way she was going to make it back in time. She’d simply wandered too far out into the woods today, and the streetlights were almost certainly going to be shining by the time she followed the gravel trail into her neighborhood.

But what does it matter, anyway? No more curfew, remember? You can stay out here as long as you damn well please now.

She slowed, the sudden sour pit in her stomach casting its familiar weight upon her.

She’d been keeping her streetlight curfew religiously even after the wreck. Half of her hissed that it was pointless. The other half snapped back that she held onto what she lost through this “pointless” ritual.

She sighed. Both voices told the truth.

But neither of them got her anywhere closer to home, so both could simply shove off for the moment. Jen shifted her weight off the walking stick and followed the deer trail up over the small hill and along the ridge above the creek some ten feet below.

She walked here all the time, hidden a few hundred feet off of the main lake trail, following the deer trails instead. There was something about it that she enjoyed fiercely, being so close to folks out enjoying one of the few less bitingly cold winter evenings, but completely hidden away in an alien world.

People simply didn’t know it existed; they never went looking for it. A few individuals fished in the deeper pools of the creek, which she knew from the worn foot trails and discarded fishing line, but that never took them more than a glance from the trail.

The joggers, the bikers, the social walkers? They never bothered to know what lay just through the trees and scrub.

They didn’t know where the best gravel banks to pick up fossilized oyster shells lay. They didn’t know which sprawling osage mother tree gave you the best view when perched in the limbs above. They didn’t know about the great horned owl, which gnarled tree was hers, and what tiny gifts of skulls and feathers she left scattered around its roots. They didn’t know which stretch of creek sounded the closest to the streams of the mountains Jen left or which stretches held the mist the longest as it danced in the fading rays of the sun.

Hell, they didn’t even notice when the coyotes slinked across the trail not ten feet behind them most of the time.

Jen did, and what’s more, she liked that they did not. She liked feeling like the stretch of liminal space that everyone seemed to ignore belonged to her and the other few mysterious folks whose footprints she glimpsed now and again. It was always here for her, ready to welcome her and invite her in. It accepted her as she was, whether that was as a determined force to be reckoned with or a shattered mess of a human being.

She’d gotten to know it well in turn over the past five years, which is why the light and noise caught her attention so swiftly.

Violet flashes pulsed out from between the bare branches to her left. As was her usual response when something seemed off, she froze, focused on watching and listening. The light continued to pulse out from behind a low-limbed tree, and Jen decided it would be wise to move off of the deer trail and down behind a fallen tree on the creek bank. 

She crouched there, brow furrowed.

The light was baffling, unexpected, but not outside the realm of imagination. She’d seen signs of others out here, though seldom an actual person. It was a Friday evening, so perhaps she’d stumbled upon some secret homebrewed forest rave? 

But the sound accompanying the light troubled her. She had heard it before, but couldn’t place it. It wooshed and hummed with a tonal quality that her mind connected to high voltage.

But she didn’t have any longer to puzzle over it because as quickly as it began, the light simply vanished, taking the otherworldly hum with it. Her eyes began to readjust to the twilight around her as the woods held oddly still, even for a winter’s eve.

Her heart rate had begun to pick up. While she was generally determinedly grounded in reality (she was that person at the movies), she liked to try to leave the door open to the inexplicable. Right now, that door had been nudged open even further and she felt curiosity lifting its head within her, scenting something irresistibly odd and in dire need of further investigation.

She was just about to creep toward the source of the short lived commotion when Jen heard a voice.

“What in the hells?”

Jen blanched, freezing once more.

That was not a woods walk voice. That was an enjoying her favorite games at home because escapism was so much better than reality voice. That was a fictional voice. Well, fabricated perhaps was the better term? She blinked away her surprise and tried to hang on to her racing thoughts for a moment.

That line was straight out of the game, right? Maybe someone had their Steam Deck out here? She’d done that before, after all, and it was a nice enough evening, if a little chilly. It would also explain what she now recognized as a portal noise.

Ah. Things were coming together now, it seemed. But before she could congratulate herself for putting it together, she heard a distinct huff.

“Gods, not again! Where the bloody hells am I this time?”

It was not a scripted line, she realized, missing a new heartbeat in the process. Well, not one she’d heard, and with the number of hours she’d put in, it was unlikely she’d missed one. This left only the absurd conclusion that…

There was absolutely no damn way. Her mind tried to spin up a new theory to make sense of everything, come up with some admittedly highly far-fetched but at least theoretically possible solution to the quandary of the voice and the violet portal.

Were the actors in town for a con or something? But why the hell would they be in the woods here? She supposed they seemed like the types to check out a secret woods rave, but here? This junk strewn scrap of floodplain false-forest?

She caught movement from the direction the voice had come from and kept herself painfully still. She could not, however, keep her eyes from widening or her mouth from dropping open in utter disbelief.

A silver haired figure with distinctly pointed ears stood facing away from her, brushing his clothing clean of the leaf litter and dirt he must have toppled into.

There is no way. I’ve lost it. I’m clinically insane. Commit me now, please and thank you.

It was all she could conclude, but she didn’t feel insane. But, no, she had no other explanation, none that put all the strange little pieces together like the unbelievably impossible truth did.

Astarion fucking Ancunin had just tumbled out of a portal into the woods before her very eyes.

She closed her mouth back shut as she watched him glance around. He drew a dagger as he began melting instinctively toward the darkening patches of shadow. Jen’s hand slid down to the utility knife folded in her pocket, half mirroring him, half pure nervous habit.

Yes, because you’re going to beat Astarion in a knife fight, she hissed to herself silently before her racing mind slammed headlong into a very crucial fact.

Vampire. Astarion was a vampire.

And at this distance, there was absolutely no way he wouldn’t sense her. He would smell her or catch the sound of her hammering heartbeat, or hell, maybe even the soft thunder of blood in her veins from there.

She refocused her gaze, heart now residing in her throat. Astarion had frozen.

Two things happened at once: she spun and lunged her way into the middle of the creek, water sloshing wildly around her feet, and a very familiar elf appeared almost exactly where she’d been a moment before.

They stared at each other for a moment and she knew, knew he was sizing her up, working out how to play things from here since his first plan had unexpectedly failed. She knew she should be doing likewise but her brain had simply ceased to function.

That’s Astarion. Holy hell. That’s Astarion.

“Apologies,” he said, extending his hands slightly toward her for emphasis. “I appear to have startled you.”

“No shit,” she retorted before she’d fully rebooted herself.

He straightened, a half grin on his lips now. “Yes, I would assume you don’t usually make a habit of leaping into the muck at the slightest provocation, though your outfit says otherwise.”

She looked down at herself. The water was well above her ankles and had completely flooded her hiking boots. Her denim jeans were thoroughly soaked up to at least the knees and flecked with day old crusted mud well above that. Her laces, harboring the errant burr or three, were trying to slink off of her boots into the flow of the stream, rather similar to how she would have loved to do herself.

Just join the current and melt her way out of whatever the fuck was happening right now.

She looked back up at Astarion.

“Can I help you?” she asked, unable to keep her annoyance at his jab from lacing the question with sarcasm.

“Perhaps,” he responded, watching her with that casual intensity that she had no idea how he managed to pull off. He reached a hand toward her, palm up, offering to assist her out of the creek. She stared at it a moment, half of her wanting to step forward and touch it, to verify its existence. The other half of her knew damn well such an action would be a deadly folly.

Her watch vibrated on her wrist, and she looked down at it stupidly, thrown by the interruption of something so mundane. It was congratulating her on reaching peak heart rate for her workout. She blinked.

Two breaths later, she erupted into laughter, fully surrendering to the absurdity of her situation. She couldn’t stop herself. Astarion’s look, clearly now questioning her sanity at least as much as she was, only worsened it. When she finally managed to catch her breath, following her fit up with a deep, shuddering breath to center herself, she felt very much better, and very much more in control of herself.

Her brain, it seemed, had decided that yep, this was happening. Time to get equal with her new circumstances.

“I think I’ll stay in the creek, thanks,” she finally responded, eyeing him as she shifted her weight to lean on her walking stick. She saw him stiffen just slightly, just enough for her to know he was now suspicious of why she’d choose to remain in the creek. She watched his gaze sharpen and darken before he sneered his question at her.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Nope,” she responded, probably too nonchalantly. Now that her mind was at least slightly more equal to her situation, she decided that perhaps pissing off a gods damned vampire likely wasn’t the play here, unless she really wanted to test the limits of running water or spend the night in the creek. She sighed.

“But I know who you are,” she added.

His eyes burned into hers now. Historically she was complete and utter shit at eye contact but right now, she could not help but hold his stare, too much like a deer in the headlights for her comfort. Or maybe she was so used to looking the pixels in the eye that it somehow translated to the actual physical embodiment?

And dear gods, that gorgeous fucking red.

She swallowed and forced her voice out of hiding.

“What I don’t know is how the hell you’re here.”

“Well. That makes two of us, though it is interesting that you said how, not why.”

She exhaled sharply in mirthless acknowledgment that he’d caught her out on that one. She was really going to have to watch her words with him, and that was unfortunate because her scattered little brain felt as fallible as her damned shaking knees.

“I don’t exactly know where to start with this,” she confessed, ignoring her unsteady knees and the uncomfortably cold water sloshing around her ankles for the moment. “Look, I’m willing to help you out, but I’m also thoroughly baffled, sincerely alarmed, and desperately trying to piece things together here.”

There he was, solid as the stones beneath her as far as she could tell without getting way too close for personal safety. But what did that mean exactly? He was, for all appearances, still an elf and a vampire, but did he retain all of the innate magic of the Astarion she’d piloted across a computer screen? This world had no elves, no vampires, and no magic.

Until now, maybe?

Jen looked at the tree she’d been hiding behind before she retreated to the safety of running water.

“Do me a favor and try igniting that branch on the shore there,” she said with a nod toward it.

Astarion quirked a brow, but then scoffed and spun toward the proposed target. Now that his unsettling attention was no longer on her, Jen couldn’t help but grin as she heard the all too familiar incantation.

How many times have I watched a sassy little figure disintegrate the web beneath an oversized arachnid with that one well-timed cantrip?

The branch, however, remained unburnt, confirming her theory on the magic at least. Wherever he’d come from, he was now playing by the rules of this reality at least to some degree.

He tried to cast firebolt again, but had realized the spell wasn’t going to work and spun back toward her accusingly.

“What the devil did you do?”

Her smile evaporated.

“I didn’t do a damned thing! You just fucking appeared here while I was trying to mind my own damn business and finish my damn walk, so don’t go shanking me for shit I most certainly didn’t do!”

She did not like the edge of sudden panic she could hear in herself, and to make matters worse, Astarion was looking at her rather like he thought that might be a fine idea now that she mentioned it.

“I swear, Astarion, I will help you but I’m fairly certain this creek is the only thing keeping my blood inside my body at the moment, so forgive me if I’m also A BIT ON EDGE.”

She wound up yelling the final few words at him. She saw a flash as a dagger appeared in his hand.

“How do you know me?” he growled.

She was going to die in this creek and all she could think was, I’ll be damned, the fucking curfew wasn’t overblown after all.

Jen said nothing at first, trying to figure out how to tell him, but then Astarion shifted his weight closer to a crouch, dagger in hand. The urgency hit her as forcibly as he would have already certainly done had the creek not been protecting her.

“Hang on,” she hissed, attempting to rally behind anger instead of fear. “I’m trying to figure out how the hell to put this.”

He waited another breath or two before his voice came out low and dangerous.

“Well?”

“This is fucking absurd,” she said out loud, not knowing what else to do. The truth was absurd, but so was the situation and she didn’t really have a better idea than telling the truth right now. Jen found herself hoping silently that he could read the veracity of what she was about to say on her face. She did not like her odds if he didn’t believe her.

Though, there are probably worse ways to die, if it comes to it.

“I recognize you from a thing called a video game. Here, in this world, or I guess maybe this plane to you, you are a character in a video game.”

He’d straightened just a hair, listening to her, watching her face.

Seeing the truth, gods, please.

“You have no idea what a video game is.” She paused, thinking furiously. “I guess the way I could best describe it would be as if you’re a character in a book, only it’s a book that people experience by putting themselves in it and playing through it.”

“A play?” he sneered, clearly unimpressed that the idiot woman before him didn’t know what a play was. At least he’d come out of the crouch.

She shot him an annoyed look.

“Not exactly, but close enough. A play, but one you’re also acting in as the main character who the others are supporting?”

Astarion threw his head back suddenly and laughed, startling the hell out of her.

“It’s called roleplaying, my dear.”

Oh. Yes, she supposed he’d understand it put like that.

“I know what roleplaying is,” she shot back, too peeved to measure her next words ahead of time. “And yeah, actually, that’s it exactly. It’s a roleplaying game.”

She felt her face flush as his look became far less hostile and far more entertained.

“But not, like, the bedroom kind,” she added hastily. “It’s roleplaying as storytelling. A game. For fun. With friends. Or solo.”

You are not helping yourself… NOT helping.

She plowed on, stubbornly ignoring the way he was now looking her up and down and the backflips her gut was executing in response.

“This world, or plane, doesn’t have magic like you’re used to, which is why I had you test the whole firebolt thing.”

She paused and looked down at the water swirling around her feet as he glanced down to the same. Jen grew uneasy, almost certain he was wondering what she was now.

If the cantrip magic didn’t work, would the creek even keep a vampire out?

“So,” she hurried out, “If you can imagine some fucking rogue you’re quite familiar with simply appearing in front of you one evening, trying to con you into arm’s reach, and very clearly ready to blame you for whatever the fuck is going on, then you’ve got the gist of where the hell I’m standing at the moment and why I am not coming out of this creek yet.”

Jen saw the wheels turning before Astarion chuckled and put the dagger away, finally straightening fully. Her lungs released the breath they’d been holding without her knowledge.

“It seems you do know of me at least enough to avoid being… bloodied.” He had her fixed with his most enticing grin now, which she immediately decided was far more dangerous than his previous crouch and dagger. He tilted his head. “So. Are you going to stay in there all night?”

“Depends on if I’ve convinced you not to, ah, exsanguinate me,” she grumbled. A thread of an idea hit her, and she looked up at him again. “You don’t care to come in and assist me out, I presume?”

He tutted at her.

“On that subject,” he countered, “I am rather surprised that you heard me coming.”

Of course he’d dodged the question. Fine. Two could play that game. She could dodge the answer he wanted just as well as he had dodged hers. She felt herself smile back at him.

“How could I miss someone shouting ‘where in the bloody hells am I’ from ten feet away?”

“Alright, but I moved well after that.”

“Luck,” she admitted with a shrug. “It occured to me that you would notice me soon enough and the creek was honestly the only chance I had at that point. Pure dumb luck that I realized it fast enough.”

“Clever,” he murmured, eyeing her again.

With interest.

She was completely unsure how she felt about that. On the one hand, she’d managed to do something interesting to him and she found that deeply pleasing. On the other hand, it would probably have been far safer to be completely beneath his notice.

She shook herself free of the thought and grunted at him non commitally, attempting to mentally arm herself against anything that could be construed as an ingratiating compliment from him.

“Well, on my honor, I shall keep my daggers to myself if you decide you’d like to remove yourself from the muck.”

“The daggers are not the thing I’m most worried about,” she quipped back. His grin widened.

“Oh? What ever do you mean?”

She kicked herself as she replayed the line in her head. She had meant the hereto hinted at but thus far unconfirmed fangs, but it sure as hell didn’t sound like it on instant mental replay. She scowled at him ferociously, hoping they were far enough into twilight now that her cheeks weren’t broadcasting just how red they’d turned.

“Fine,” he said with an exaggerated eye roll. “I shall keep all of my pointy bits to myself.”

He punctuated this statement with a hand gesturing from his head to his feet. Jen yanked her eyes off of him.

Oh this was going to be fantastic. Just fantastic. She had forty-eight hours to live, at most, she conjectured. And he still hadn’t confirmed or denied the vampire bit.

She knew he was one with near certainty. He surely knew that she suspected, given her use of the creek as protection.

But honestly, if she was in his shoes, she wouldn’t confirm it first. No, he wasn’t going to give up a shred of information he didn’t think would serve him, especially as disoriented as he must be. Better to have her distracted and worried about it, put her on more equal footing.

Well, in the absence of confirmation, Jen would have to assume the worst and treat him by the vampire rules she was familiar with, and there was no sense wasting more time puzzling it out. Reality had just gotten a whole lot stranger and there was nothing to do but play the hand in front of her at the moment.

She sighed and rolled her head, cracking her neck and shoulders.

Jen looked back up and eyed Astarion, knowing full well that what she was about to do was objectively stupid, and knowing just as well that she was going to do it anyway. She wondered what he was reading in her face as she became aware of her own plan.

“I’ve got a house not far from here. Come with me and I’ll try to help you sort out whatever is going on. Not sure I’ll be that helpful, but I’ll try. I can at least answer questions about where you are and give you a place to shelter for now.”

She sloshed her way out of the creek and stopped beside him, refusing to make eye contact this close up. He beamed at her, positively radiating delighted vibes.

“I’m Jen, by the way.”

“Enchanted. Do lead on.”

Jen had sense enough to realize that this was the rogue at his most dangerous, but here she was anyway.

She shook her head with a small self-deprecating grin and started back along the deer trail, Astarion fucking Ancunin in tow.

Chapter 2: Welcome to Texas

Summary:

In which the angst sets in and Astarion meets the locals.

2. Welcome to Texas

“These blasted dirty plants!”

“They’re just burrs. Be gentle pulling them off and they won’t stick you,” she said, removing the last few from her jeans and laces.

“They are everywhere,” he whined. “I can’t believe you come here willingly.”

“I come here because usually no one else does.”

“Well, I can see why,” he retorted, removing the last few of his own burrs so disgusted that Jen failed to hold back a snort of laughter. “Horrid little bramble patch. Halsin would love it.”

“No doubt,” she replied, making mental note that he did, in fact, know Halsin then.

This answered one of the big questions she’d started kicking around in her skull ever since dragging her freezing little feet out of the creek.

What version of Astarion is this?

Pre-tadpole? Post tadpole? Spawn? Ascended? Something entirely different and completely unknown to her?

She had no clue, but she felt very keenly that she really, really needed to know so that she had some clue what to expect from him and how to best protect herself.

In the ten minutes of walking together, she’d come to realize something else.

Jen wasn’t sure she was going to handle his constant chatter as well as she had hoped, especially not if he was just going to continue bitching about every little inconvenience.

No shot I can ditch him in the woods now, though. Fucker would tear me to pieces, regardless of what version he is.

They were almost through the deer trails and onto the trail proper. It was a good thing the night was clear and the moon was nearly full. The little incident in the creek had eaten up the last crumbs of twilight, so without the moon to see by, the walk would have been far more difficult. For her, anyway.

Astarion broke her train of thought for the dozenth time.

“Are you not concerned about that roaring noise? Or are you just deaf?”

“Huh?”

Astarion had stopped behind her sinking lower, looking around with concern. She listened. All she heard besides the breeze and creaking branches was the road up ahead.

The road up ahead.

He was hearing the cars.

She broke into laughter. Astarion huffed unhappily and straightened while she collected herself.

“Well?” he sneered.

“It’s just cars. Coaches, but driven with engines instead of horses, I guess is the best way to compare it.”

“There are horseless coaches?”

“Yes,” she replied, pursing her lips to keep from laughing at the shock in his tone.

“That’s certainly an improvement. Can’t stand the beasts. How about we just take one of those back to your home, then.”

“Beeecause that’s not how it works.”

“Well why not?”

“I walked here. I don’t have my car with me.”

“Your car? You’re rich?”

Jen laughed a short, sharp laugh. She was blessedly comfortable, habitually living below her means after years of struggling, but not rich.

“Hardly. Everyone has cars these days, at least around here.”

“The peasants have coaches?” he asked, somewhere between shocked and aghast now.

“I’m not a peasant.” She punctuated the statement by letting a particularly prickly branch snap back behind her.

“Ow!”

“You deserved that,” she muttered.

There was a moment in which she almost felt like she was watching herself, taking stock of her actions from outside her own body. This observer in her skull noted that she seemed surprisingly, maybe even suicidally, unconcerned about needling him given her state thirty minutes back.

Jen sighed as she stepped out onto the gravel of the proper trail.

“Oh thank the gods,” Astarion said behind her. “Now how much farther?”

“Ten minutes at most.”

She couldn’t help but close her eyes and hide a smile at the dramatic sigh this provoked, but that smile began to slide off of her face. Now that they were on the home stretch, she suddenly recalled the state of her house.

Unwashed dishes in the sink. Stacks of empty cardboard boxes she didn’t have the energy to break down and take out. The mountain of clean laundry piled onto the couch and the foothills of dirty laundry scattered throughout the bedroom. The fridge, almost empty except for condiments she hated but hadn’t brought herself to dispose of yet. The water in the guest shower that was still on the fritz.

What the hell was she doing dragging Astarion of all people into her disaster of a life?

Too late. Don’t think about it.

“So,” she ventured, “you don’t have any clue how you ended up here?”

He scoffed at her.

“Of course I do. I went through a portal.”

“Thanks. I hadn’t figured that out.” She resisted the urge to pick up a piece of gravel and chuck it at him. “Why did you go through a portal?”

“To arrive on the other side, of course.”

He laughed at her deep sigh.

Was there a word for a complete mix of infuriating and endearing? There should be.

“You’re not giving me much to work with,” she said, thrusting the walking stick into the ground rather harder than necessary in the next stride.

“By design.”

Jen spun to face him, walking backwards for a few paces.

I’m making eye contact again, she noted.

“I am trying to help you. You could be a little more forthcoming toward that end.”

“I don’t see the need for you to know how or why I went through a portal.”

“Where did you expect it to take you, Astarion?” He tilted his head, eyeing her, but did not respond. She spun back around “Because it clearly was not here.”

“True. I suppose I expected to find myself in some other city within the confines of Faerûn. Perhaps Evereska.”

Jen’s walking stick clacked as it met pavement. They’d come to the end of the lake trail and the beginning of the neighborhood sidewalks. Only a few more blocks now.

She mulled over his response in silence.

Toril was the world Baldur’s Gate was within. Evereska was one of the last cities of the elves, she was pretty certain.

If only I lived in a city of elves, and not this godsforsaken suburban wasteland.

For his part, Astarion had fallen quiet behind her. She couldn’t even hear his steps on the pavement. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him taking in the houses, the yards, the cars.

“Those big metal vehicles are cars, the ‘coaches’ you were hearing,” she said, following his gaze.

“Each and every house has one,” he mused. Without warning, Astarion walked up the nearest driveway and tapped the window on the Toyota Corolla sitting there.

“Don’t fucking touch it,” Jen hissed in alarm.

He looked around at the empty world, stared at her for a moment, and then placed his whole hand, flat palmed, on the door of the vehicle. Jen stared back at him, eyes wide.

She expected a car alarm to go off, or perhaps a motion activated light by the front door to snap on. Neither happened. She stood frozen on the sidewalk, eyes glued to Astarion as he grinned defiantly.

He gave the barest hint of a shrug at her before knocking on the window of the car. Loudly.

A series of explosive barks rang out from the house whose driveway he stood in. A light in the hallway flickered on.

This was his problem now, Jen decided, turning and striding away down the sidewalk. She was a house down before she heard the door open.

A voice called after her.

“Ma’am?”

She sighed and turned. Astarion was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes?”

“Was that you?”

“Was what me?”

“That knocking.”

She could say no, but that would just lead to more questions. She decided on denial instead.

“What knocking?”

She could just make out the baffled frown on the individual at the door. She gave the poor homeowner a skeptical look before turning and continuing down the street as though absolutely nothing had happened.

She heard muttering before the door closed behind her. She grinned. Easy enough. She nearly yelped as a voice materialized next to her.

“Well played.”

“Could you fucking not,” she hissed in response. “Most houses, and their vehicles, will have some kind of alarm, not to mention cameras. I’d rather not have some suburban Karen call the police on us.”

“And what is a camera?”

“A device that records everything it sees. Scrying eye, but one its owner can use to watch what it saw at any point in time. So quit touching things for now.” Jen pointed at the door of the next house, where a small but conspicuous camera sat mounted. “See that? Camera. Count how many houses have them, and then realize you’re probably only seeing the ones that aren’t designed to be inconspicuous.”

“Interesting,” he said, glancing from door to door. “That is a powerful spell to be so common.”

“There are no spells here, Astarion. It’s technology.”

She couldn’t help but think of one of that one quote, something about sufficiently advanced technology basically being magic. She filed it away for later use.

Jen turned the corner, looking down to the end of the cul-de-sac where her own house lay bathed in the soft glow of the street lights. It was the only one that didn’t sport any Christmas decorations.

“We’re almost home now, so it would be great if you could avoid alarming any of my neighbors unnecessarily. I would prefer to remain on good terms with them.”

“Of course,” he purred beside her.

Beside her now. Not walking behind and following. Walking beside. She wasn’t sure why her brain thought this was important, but it clearly did.

They finished the final block in silence.

Jen opened her mailbox out of pure habit, pulling out the junk mail and moving to the garbage bin to toss it.

“So this one is yours?”

Astarion had stopped beside her car, peering into the windows.

“Yes.”

She heard him rapping on the window as she closed the lid of the trash and turned toward the sidewalk. Her heart began to speed up again.

What the hell were you thinking, bringing him back here?

But what else was she supposed to do? Spend the night standing in the creek? Hope he couldn’t simply execute a flying tackle to drag her out of it? Stare stubbornly at him in silence for hours on end? Let him murder her with a well placed knife throw when he finally got frustrated or bored enough?

She stopped on the doorstep and cleared her throat.

“Look,” she began, voice wavering.

“We had an agreement,” Astarion warned. She turned, shaken by the nearness of his voice. He had boxed her in between himself and the front door. He was standing far too close, and she’d not even noticed he’d closed off her escape routes until now.

The meaning was clear. Her chest thumped painfully and she was having trouble deciding if it was his menace or his nearness or some mad combination of both feeding off of each other that sent her heart racing faster yet.

A stab of pain lanced through her chest. She did not want to do this. She did not want to let him in. Not like this. Not this version of her. But she couldn’t -- wouldn’t -- admit that to him. She barely could to herself.

Jen turned around silently, and slid the key into the door, beating back the shame she felt at letting anyone, let alone him , into this disaster she called a home.

“Come in,” she said, stepping across the threshold as her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “My home is yours.”

She felt his hand grasp the door above her and push it wider as he walked in behind her.

“Don’t let the cats out,” she snapped, glad to have an obvious excuse to vent her frustration.

Jen darted forward, ready to intercept her door dasher, but she didn’t need to worry. All three promptly scattered when a strange man threw the door open behind her. She spun and shut it forcefully, wondering if she should bother to lock it.

It seemed a bit silly to worry about robbers and murders with a vampire rogue, the absolute pinnacle of robber and murderer, in the house.

“Hells, woman, this is your home?”

“It’s a wreck, I know, but it’s my home, so kindly shut up and be grateful I invited you in, because that right there is why I started having second thoughts.”

He hmphed at her in response before they lapsed into silence. Jen’s mind began to race with self doubt, unsheathing claws to start shredding everything she’d said and done so far this evening. She knew the start of this spiral well enough and she was too damn tired to deal with it.

Astarion, however, broke her train of self-incriminating thought.

“Are you going to introduce me?”

“To?” She frowned, confused.

“The wonderful little creatures who scurried away when we stepped inside.”

The cats. He wanted to meet the cats. She felt her expression soften.

“I generally let them introduce themselves when they feel like it. The black one is Onyxia, the flame point is Wabbajack, and,” here she walked over to the counter and scratched the chin of the ferociously purring calico that sat waiting for her, “this brave, gorgeous girl is Miss Eva.”

The calico’s blue eyes fixed themselves on Astarion suspiciously as Jen stood back.

“Hello, Eva,” Astarion said with perfect courtliness as he stepped into the kitchen.

Eva was not impressed, and leapt down to retreat to a safe distance as he approached, stopping half way through the living room with a few unsettled flicks of her tail.

“She’s not fond of intruders,” Jen shrugged. She found herself offering him a drink before she’d even thought twice about it.

“I don’t have any wine. Got mead and gin if you’re interested.”

Sure, bust out the drinks, she leveled acidically at herself as Astarion’s face turned thoughtful.

“No wine?”

“I mean technically mead-”

He cut her off.

“Nothing red?”

Jen felt herself grin sardonically, unable to stop from seizing on his turn of phrase.

“No wine,” she responded with the barest touch of emphasis on the word wine. His eyes flashed down at her for a fraction of a second. She stifled the sudden jolt the reaction gave her as her unamused half started to berate her for taunting a probably very thirsty vampire about drinks.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, then,” he said with a wave of his hand, the momentary flash of hunger rapidly smoothed over.

She looked at her fridge. It didn’t seem like a mead evening. She looked at the small liquor cabinet she’d thrifted. Gin. This was a gin night.

This should be a sober night, she hissed to herself. You need your wits about you.

She ignored her own good advice, hell bent on self destruction for the moment, it seemed. The whole world was on fire; why not her, too, after all?

She plucked a lavender soda out of the fridge and split it between two whiskey glasses before adding double the portion of gin she’d usually have gone with.

She saw Astarion’s raised eyebrow as she turned to hand him the glass and cut off whatever quip was about to come out of his pretty little mouth.

“It’s been a day and I’m no bartender.”

“No,” he responded, something more than simple amusement dancing in those red eyes of his.

By this point, Jen was feeling particularly fatalistic, so she raised her glass toward him and put on her best tour guide voice, playing up the southern accent.

“Welcome to Texas, Astarion.” He clinked his glass against hers obligingly, definitely amused now. “So, you want the tour of my shitty little hovel first, or want me to start trying to get you oriented in this gods forsaken world you’ve portaled into?”

Chapter 3: "Magic"

Summary:

A little bit of social lubricant goes a long way toward a friendly(-ish) conversation. Jen realizes that maybe, just maybe, she's not the only one severely freaked out by the course of events so far.

Understandable, I think, given how very different this world is from Baldur's Gate.

3. "Magic"

“So,” Jen continued, sprawled against the pile of clean laundry adorning the couch, “the saying goes that ‘any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’”

She glanced at Astarion, again, shocked at her ability to actually meet his gaze, to see if he was following her. He was. Raptly. It made her feel gloriously invincible.

Or maybe that was the gin.

Whatever. On principle, she did not argue with results. And this? This was results. Gods, was she charming him? The audacity to even think it.

No. He let her. It served him to do so, and she wasn’t a fool enough not to know this.

But she would enjoy it nonetheless.

“So, all this technology, I’ll do my damnedest to make it make sense to you. Like the scrying eye/camera parallel.”

“Alright,” he drawled, watching her. “Another drink, my dear?”

Jen’s head hitched at the words. He’d not dropped a single term of endearment until now, and ‘my dear,’ as far as she had pieced together, was the gateway term to every other one. All those pretty little words he chose when he was trying to charm a target.

Yes, please, said the gremlin in her skull with her.

No, thank you, she scolded it.

She snapped back to present, glancing at Astarion suspiciously now.

“No, I have had quite plenty,” Jen responded, frowning at what she was pretty sure was a sentence that didn’t quite work.

“You’re sure,” he smirked.

“Quite,” she replied, fixing him with what she hoped was a serious glare. Couldn’t have him getting ideas that this impromptu imbibing was for him.

This was very much for her. To shut her stupid brain up. To give her a leg up while she found her damn footing.

Risky, tutted the gremlin with a knowing little grin.

Necessary, she threw back at it.

Onyxia and Wabbajack remained hidden in the bedroom, but Eva was keeping watch from the lofty perch of the cat shelves above the sofa.

“Uh, where was I?” Jen asked.

“Your ‘technology’ being indistinguishable from magic, I believe.”

“Right. Yes. Done with that. Language. What language are you speaking right now? Common?”

“Of course. I assumed you knew that since you’re clearly speaking it, too.”

“It’s called English in this world. So common equals English. Can you read it, too?”

Astarion’s eyebrow went up and his lip curled into a sneer.

“I don’t mean are you literate. I’m trying to determine if the letters are the same. Obviously you’re literate. Fucking hells, give me the benefit of the doubt once in a while, would you?”

“I see no letters,” he retorted, matching her annoyance, “so unless they’re on that little device of yours, I’ll have to assume your alcohol-addled mind is conjuring them up.”

Jen looked down at the phone in her hand. And then at the background. She tapped her photo gallery, found the first picture of her cat, and quickly made it the default.

“This is called a smart phone. Don't ask about the name, it's irrelevant for now. All you need to know is that it is the access point to damn near all the knowledge of the world today. History. Geography. Politics. Guides. It’s all in here.”

She looked at Astarion and realized that he didn’t appear to be leaving his chair to come see if he could read. In fact, he leaned further back into it. Now that she was looking at him, and not the phone, he smiled at her.

“Well? What is it you want me to try to read? Oh don’t give me that look. You expect me to come sit on a pile of soiled laundry?”

“Clean laundry.”

They lapsed into a silent standoff. It made sense put like that, but she couldn’t help but think this was merely plausible deniability for making her approach him.

She tried a different tack.

“Not certain I should be moving around much right now.”

“Well, whose fault is that?”

Yours.

She just managed to stop herself from saying this out loud, grimacing and looking away instead. Her living room was not built for entertaining guests, she was discovering. It was very well suited to her and her…

Had been suited to a couple and their cats.

Jen’s teeth ground together. She looked at the pile of laundry beneath her and promptly dumped it all onto the floor, scooting to occupy where it had been.

“There. I even kept a spot warm for you,” she levelled at him, smacking the vacated cushion twice.

Astarion finally stood up and stepped over to the couch as she shoved the laundry further to the side of the room with her feet. As he moved across the empty floor, she couldn’t help but notice the tension in his frame.

And why the hell would he be so damn tense? He had to know he held all the cards here. He was a damn vampire for fuck’s sake. He could end their entire association in about ten seconds if he truly felt like it.

But he wouldn’t, she realized, because he was also several hours removed from everything he knew and she was the only thing sheltering him from an entirely alien world right now. Jen blinked as she felt the couch sink beside her.

She was being antagonistic because she was scared, but so was he. Of course he was grasping at whatever shreds of control he could in this out of control situation, and wouldn’t you know it, she was doing the exact same thing.

Well shit.

The thought hit her harder than she expected, given that she already knew they shared quite a few defense mechanisms from hundreds of hours of helping him through them. Gods, she really was slow on the uptake sometimes. Jen could feel the alcohol buzz vacating her skull, taking a little bit of her confidence with it. All the same, she decided one of them had to give a little, and it was probably going to have to be her. She sighed.

“I’m sorry I’m being so prickly. You’ve just completely wrongfooted me and my instinct is to, uh, get a little overly sharp if I think I’m in danger.” She paused, fidgeting with her phone, weighing whether or not to say the second half of what she was thinking.

Ah, fuck it. That’s why we had gin.

“I’m guessing, from what I’ve seen of you second hand, that you’re doing the same damn thing. It didn’t really occur to me that you’d be…”

Calling him scared to his face seemed like a bad idea. How to phrase this.

Damn gin.

“I think we’re in a similar state of high alert and it’s making things difficult at the moment.”

She looked up at him, met his gaze, and then began to wither under it. His face was stone, a gorgeous statue set with two blazing rubies. A mask, perfectly still, except for red eyes that were busy absolutely boring through her. She broke.

“You don’t have to admit anything, and maybe I’m wrong even, all I’m saying is I’ll try to be less prickly. Just, try to give me the benefit of the doubt in return, ok? Please?”

He said nothing, but Jen caught a tiny sigh and saw his shoulders relax just a hair.

“Show me this device,” he said. “Let’s see if I remain literate at least.”

So. She was right. He was terrified and doing his best to hide it. She was an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Yeah, her whole world had just gotten a little weird, but at least she was still home. Jen opened Google Maps up and leaned toward him, holding the phone out so that he could see it.

“Legible?”

“Yes. Is this where we are?”

“Yes. This is Google Maps. It’s an app -- a tool, essentially -- on the phone that basically contains a map of the whole world. You can scale it in or out like this.”

Jen showed him the pinch and pull motions to zoom in or out, then repositioned the map with a finger. “You bumped into me roughly here.”

She dropped a pin along the stream labeled Hart’s Branch then zoomed out and scrolled so the pin was at the bottom of the screen.

“This is home, here.”

She looked up at him. He was studying the map intently.

“We are located here,” she zoomed out as she spoke, “in Elm Point. Elm Point is a small town on the edge of the Metroplex, nickname for the two big cities and their surrounding suburbs, or neighborhoods.”

She continued zooming out as she spoke.

“These are in the state of Texas, which is part of the United States, which is on the continent North America. This is one of seven continents that make up the world.”

She scrolled across the map, showing how it wrapped back around.

“So this can show me anywhere in this world, all in this one map?”

“Exactly. Tap this little icon here and it will zoom back in on where you are. It also has my home location stored as a pin, so it’s easy to orient back. It'll even give you directions from one spot to another.”

“Where can I get one of these devices?”

“I have an extra. I’ve already got it charging right now, and I’ll explain that and get you set up with it once it’s done. It’s yours as long as you need it.”

Astarion looked down at her, clearly thinking something through. He frowned and remained silent, however. She wanted to press him again, ask what was going on in that head of his, but bit it all back.

Extending him grace right now, remember?

“That’s only one thing the phone can do. You can also access the internet with this. The internet is going to be tough to explain, so I’ll stick to what it can do for you currently. If you want to know anything at all, you simply type in your question and it will come back with answers. The veracity of these answers are sometimes questionable, though, so you’ll want to stick to vetted sources. For now, I’d avoid AI and start probing Wikipedia.”

He was frowning at the phone as she spoke.

“That’s a lot,” she said, walking things back. “Let’s do this. What’s a question about the world you want answered?”

“How big is it?” he asked, not missing a breath.

“Population? Land mass? The whole world?”

“This town, how many people are in it?”

Jen typed in ‘Elm Point Texas population’ and smiled as Astarion made a quiet noise of interest in response to how quickly the information popped up.

“This is Census Bureau data, so it’s pretty accurate. Scroll down here, and bam, Wikipedia. Most basic facts are going to be pretty reliable as long as you avoid anything labelled AI for now. If you get into controversial subjects like politics or religion, well, then it’s reader beware.”

“Noted,” he replied, staring intently at the phone.

“Off the top of my head, you’d probably find local laws helpful, maybe the wikipedia article about the United States and Texas.”

He sighed and looked up at the wall, nodding toward it.

“What is that black thing?”

Jen followed his gaze. 

“Oh, that’s a television. You watch things on it. It’s like the screen here on the phone but bigger. Not the whole phone, mind you, just how it shows things. It’ll have different apps, though, not the ones I’ve shown you. Mostly just for entertainment.”

“Alright. What’s making that humming noise in your kitchen?”

Jen blinked, listening to what was just background noise to her.

“The fridge. It keeps food cold.”

“The humming noise outside?”

“Heater and air conditioner. Heats or cools the house in lieu of a fireplace and proper thermal mass.”

Astarion wore a deeply unhappy scowl now.

“Gods, this is all so different. ”

Jen said nothing, crestfallen for him as she caught the frustration and uneasiness in his voice now that she knew to listen for it.

“I know this is a lot. I’m sorry.”

He made a face.

“No need to apologize; I’ve only myself to blame for this little adventure.” They lapsed back into silence again before Astarion turned toward her and fixed her with an intent stare. “You seem to be sobering up, my dear.”

Fuck, he is close to me on this couch. She was not comfortable being the center of his attention yet, not in the least. She felt herself leaning away from him as she spoke.

“Yeah. Getting tired, too, so probably need to call it a night soon. I’ll get your phone set up in the morning when it’s done charging.”

His gaze was still on her, though she wasn’t entirely sure he was actually seeing her at the moment. It almost felt like he was looking through her, or seeing something that wasn’t there. A chill ran up her spine as her gin-lagged mind identified the expression.

Hunger. Raw fucking hunger. She steadied her voice, and breathing, and spoke up.

“I tend to be a bit forward, so I am going to come right out and say this. I don’t advise trying to get your teeth into anything human until you’re a little more versed in the security measures and law enforcement of this state.” The last thing she needed was him getting shot. Jen paused to watch his reaction, but hastily continued when she grew uneasy trying to identify what was going on behind the mask that had replaced the hungry look he had worn a moment before.

“Far be it from me to try to order you to do anything, just know that it’d be ill-advised. Most of the wildlife around here will be back along those deer trails we came from. Deer, small wildcats, coyotes, and wild pigs are probably the most common.”

“Delicious,” he said, voice sarcastically flat, still watching her.

“I’m not volunteering right now,” she heard herself reply, matching his flat tone.

Right now? Oh, good gods, you idiot!

“And if I wake up dead,” she threatened, trying to push her slip of the tongue into the past as quickly as possible, “I will come back and haunt your ass.”

“Just my ass, darling?” 

Shit.

There it was. The first darling. His tone was suddenly playful, amused. Friendly again.

Shit , shit, shit.

She was cooked. Not even a full night -- what time even was it by now -- and he’d decided to turn up the charm. The motivation was obviously simple hunger. She was quite possibly the only person he had a decent chance of getting a nibble of in the immediate future and she had had the damn decency to out herself immediately as not completely opposed to the idea.

“You know what I meant. You also swore to keep all of your pointy bits to yourself, if you recall.”

“So I did,” he replied, smirking as he sank back into the couch. He was working out how to get around this, she could tell. She knew the look of someone’s wheels turning and he was wearing it shamelessly.

“Bedroom is through that door. I’ve only got the one functional at the moment, and you don’t strike me as someone who deigns to sleep on the couch, so you’re welcome to it.”

“Generous of you,” he said, standing up and stretching, “but I think I’ll get acquainted with the night here. Clear my mind a little. Help myself to some… refreshment.”

Jen held her hands up.

“You do you. Just don’t wake me up with whatever you get into.”

His chuckle set her nerves on fire.

“Don’t worry. I won't wake you.”

She watched him palm her key off of the counter as he glided past on his way to the front door. That last phrase had her heart back up at two billion beats per minute.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, slipping out the front door into the night. She continued to stare for several minutes after he had closed it behind him.

Did she say she’d last forty-eight hours?

Hah. Hahahahahaha.

Maybe twenty-four?

Notes:

Y'all. I cannot write fast enough to get chapter four out. It's done, and waiting, but I'm not posting it until I've got at least another four lined up. I cannot WAIT for things to get even more absurd. >=D

Chapter 4: Survival Strategies

Summary:

Boy howdy, Jen is not ready for what is waiting for her, politely asking for a clean towel, in *her* bathroom. How in the hells is she supposed to deal with this man, but also, what is his damn deal anyway?

4. Survival Strategies

Usually, Jen preferred to sleep naked. There was nothing quite like the simple pleasure of waking up in a cocoon of warmth, soft sheets or plush blankets nestled comfortably against her bare skin.

That was not happening tonight.

She dug through the pile of couch laundry now occupying the floor until she found a pair of pajama bottoms and a tee-shirt. They’d have to do.

Now that it was just her and the cats once more, and her heart had begun to stabilize at a normal rate, she found herself completely unable to think about sleep. Instead, her mind plagued her with every stupid little Astarion tchotchke she’d ever bought and decorated her life with.

The tablet and water bottle on her nightstand, bedecked with stickers. True, only a few of them were Astarion themed, but it was enough that he’d notice. He was right there, her favorite helpfully reminded her.

Then there were the art prints she’d bought and hung on the walls of the game room, one even autographed. Yes, there were plenty other characters surrounding it, but the images of him certainly wouldn’t escape his notice, especially not the ones she’d picked. There was the largest one, his upper body centered in a shaft of light, his lips and hand dripping with blood, clearly reveling in the moment. Or the signed one, the one where he was draped suggestively across a chair, wine glass in hand.

Ah, yes, let’s not forget the collectible figure…

Again, one of many such figures. Or the plushie. Or how about the conspicuously colored, obviously hand-crocheted bat plush, complete with a single, unruly curl between its pointy little ears.

How the hell was she going to play this all off? Would he go snooping around tonight after returning from his hunt?

Who was she kidding? He was a rogue. Of course he was going to snoop around at the first opportunity. In fact, she thought lying in bed, who’s to say he hadn’t already?

No, she sure wasn’t going to be able to hide the many little reminders of him she’d sprinkled throughout her life.

If she was going to survive this, she was just going to have to own it.

If she owned it, wore her obvious fascination and attraction like armor, he couldn’t very well skewer her with it. Of course she was interested in him, attracted to him. Of course she was curious. What of it?

The strategy had worked well for her in the past. She still recalled very vividly how she’d finally learned how quickly people backed off of a topic once they realized they couldn’t use it to hurt you. She’d been rather obsessed with a particular elf of Tolkein’s creation back in her youth, but hadn’t made peace with her burgeoning feelings yet. After many torturous months, it had been the moment she’d snapped back, audibly admitting it and turning the dial to eleven, that her teasing friends finally lost interest in the game.

That had been a revelation and the start of a lifelong habit of using the sarcastic, self deprecating truth to shield herself. Own what you are, and it can’t be used against you.

Besides, who hadn’t had a crush on a fictional character at some point? She was doomed with Astarion in particular from the outset. She had been the high school nerd who read and annotated the Silmarillion, taught herself to write in tengwar, inhaled Anne Rice novels, and then invented her own vampire stories on her second hand laptop in the dark of night.

And, she told herself, this was a different Astarion, after all, not the one she knew inside and out. This was (assuming she wasn’t mad, which was still a possibility) the real one and all she knew were the stories she’d played. She couldn’t possibly know this version, or feel one thing or the other for him, because this was not the same him that she knew and adored.

They did seem very similar, though, she frowned to herself. But truly, he had not been on adventures with her. The bits of code had. She’d do well to remember that going forward with him.

Her mind had finally loosened its hold on wakefulness as her own muddled, self-issued warnings about parasocial relationships drifted aimlessly in the space before true sleep.

Jen woke to the sound of a quick hiss from Eva.

The room was dark, so she immediately reached down to the crook of her knees, hand searching for the calico. A small, furry head nudged into her fingers, guiding them into her favorite chin scritches.

Jen relaxed, but felt her forehead crease into a frown.

Was the faucet dripping?

As she lay in her blanket cocoon, trying to catch back up to reality, she remembered the vampire rogue who she’d spent several hours drunkenly running her mouth to.

She sighed. It was still dark, wasn’t it? Because she did not want to move.

“You’re awake then, darling?”

The flush of color and heat in her cheeks was immediate. His voice was by no means coming from right beside her, but it sounded like it was in her bedroom, and that was uncomfortably close when she couldn’t see him.

“I wasn’t,” she grumbled, “until my guard cat woke me.”

“Well, now that you’re up, I could use a clean towel.”

She faltered, trying to make sense of that statement, and merely ended up echoing it back to him.

“A clean towel?”

She noticed the flickering light coming from her bathroom, the one room in her house that was almost pristine. She had it decked out like her own hidden woodland hot spring, greenery and candles on shelves, wooden tiers full of various bath salts and soaks, plush floor mats mimicking a mossy forest floor. As her senses finished waking up, she could tell he’d helped himself to one of said bath soaks and lit several candles around the room.

“I expected to find one here, but alas…” he trailed off.

From the bathtub. With the door wide open. Jen said nothing and made no attempt to rouse herself. The silence dripped by for a few more moments.

“You know,” he continued, “this is the one room in the whole house that I find truly charming. It lacks only one thing.”

“What?” she asked, knowing this was a setup of some kind but unable to resist sating her curiosity.

“A towel, my dear.”

“Gods fucking damnit you little shit,” she spat, rolling out of bed at last. “I thought you said you wouldn’t wake me.”

“I didn’t. You dear little guardian did.”

That was a fucking technicality and he knew it. Jen wracked her brain for a moment, trying to recall if she had any clean towels in the floor pile or if they were in the dryer still.

“Shall I warm the damn thing, too, while I’m at it?”

“Would you?” he breathed.

She shivered. She shouldn’t have asked. His pleasure at the thought absolutely rippled off of his words and she did not like what that tone was doing to her insides.

“No, I will not. The norm is to close the damn door, by the way.”

“I was enjoying the company,” he purred back, without missing a beat. Before she could accusingly ask what company, he continued. “Wabbajack, is it? I think he likes me.”

Sure enough, the damn flame point was sitting next to the tub while a pale hand scratched his head obligingly. The cat looked at her and let out an inquisitive meow, clearly pleased with himself for being so brave and making a new friend.

Jen took a breath and let it out slowly, eyes closed against the madness unfolding in her bedroom and bathroom. With nothing else to say at the moment, she retreated to find a towel. Preferably one without snags. Probably the one with the highest thread count she could manage.

Does he need a towel for his hair, too ?

Jen decided against this; she was not about to explain a “Turbie-Twist” to Astarion in the middle of the night while he sat naked in her bathtub. He’d have to make due with a single bath towel.

She found a suitable offering in the dryer, displeased with herself when she did actually consider letting it run for ten minutes or so. The spiteful little voice who was pissed at him for putting her in this situation won out, so she decided he could handle a room temperature towel and returned to the bedroom.

Now the part she was dreading.

Wabbajack was pacing little furrows in the bath mat alongside the tub as he luxuriated in the full body pets he was receiving from his new friend.

Jen hesitated on the threshold feeling for all the world like she was walking into his lair, not her own bathroom. She refused to peek around the wall that was currently obscuring the majority of the tub from her, desperately hoping that Astarion would be the one to break the silence.

She waited, watching her traitorous little furball enjoy his pampering, and grew steadily more uneasy. Surely Astarion knew she’d returned by now?

Of course he did. He was, again, forcing her to make the first move. Waiting to see what she’d do. Jen set her jaw before inhaling, strongly considering tossing the towel on the floor next to her cat and retreating without a word.

“I found a towel. Are you at least decent?” she asked, finally.

“I am more than decent, darling,” he laughed. “Magnificent as always.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she croaked.

He removed his hand from the purring feline’s head and held it out beside the tub, palm up, waiting to receive the towel in question.

Jen fixed her gaze at the corner of the bathroom farthest from the bathtub and took the few steps she needed to close the distance into the room. She wanted to keep her face forward but curiosity immediately started to get the better of her.

She felt a surge of relief wash through her as she realized the bath was piled high with bubbles.

Almost as soon as the relief hit her, it evaporated again, leaving behind the most intense awkwardness she’d felt in, well, probably years. Maybe ever?

The most gorgeous elf in existence is in my bathtub and he doesn’t give a shit that he’s stark fucking naked under a blanket of bubbles while I’m standing here trying desperately to avoid seeing him at all.

She finally turned and allowed herself to look at him.

Astarion was resting his head back against the spa pillow on the edge of the tub. Almost all of him was engulfed by the copious amount of bubbles, but his shoulders and collarbone lingered above the fluffy abyss.

Despite her rapidly fading delusion that she wasn’t really looking all that hard, she couldn’t help but notice the otherworldly color of his skin, the veins in his arm, the droplets running down it, how he held his hand perfectly poised, waiting. Though he had his eyes closed, Jen knew just how much he was enjoying this tableau by the smirk plastered on his lips.

She dropped the towel unceremoniously into his open hand, Wabbajack letting out a confused ‘mrr’ as he caught the edge of the linen to the back.

How the hell was Astarion somehow this endearing and infuriating all at the same time? Endeariating. That was it. That was the new word.

Fucking endeariating .

Astarion opened his eyes and turned to catch her gaze. Jen dodged it. His smile widened and he began to shift forward, looking up at the towel hook four feet above the foot of the tub.

Jen snatched the towel back out of his hand in a near panic.

“I’ve got it.”

She heard the water ripple and the pillow sigh as he stopped threatening to stand up. She hung the offending linen up, pissed that he’d toppled her off balance again, and so damn easily at that. She was supposed to be owning this, she remembered in a heated flash.

He had very rapidly figured out what effect he was having on her and he was milking it for all it was worth, but it was only happening because she let him weaponize her discomfort against her. If she stopped letting him knock her feet out from under her with it, then problem solved.

Jen turned defiantly toward him and looked down to meet his amused gaze dead on. His expression shifted again as she did so, but she had herself stubbornly in hand now.

“Bearing our earlier agreement firmly in mind, I take it there’s nothing else you’re lacking at the moment?”

“No,” he drawled, gazing up at her with those crimson eyes, studying her.

Trying to determine what had changed.

Jen was just about to say something to dismiss herself when he spoke again. 

“I do appreciate your taste in candles.”

His finger played on the rim of the one nearest to him, and while his expression didn’t change, something in his voice brought her defenses flashing back up.

Jen’s heart stopped as she identified the candle.

That candle. How had she forgotten the candle of all things? The one proudly labeled “The Pale Elf.” The one that smelled of bergamot and rosemary and brandy. She was nearly certain the words ‘Careful, I bite’ were emblazoned on it somewhere, too.

Well. Time to double down and truly see how owning this shit will work out.

“Thanks,” she said, refusing to break his gaze this time. “It’s one of my favs. Though I typically use the candle warmer instead of lighting it. Lasts longer that way.”

“Oh?” Amusement still, but something new. Surprise, maybe? A small flicker of it, yes, but it was there, she decided.

“Yeah. Stupid thing wasn’t cheap,” she added with a shrug.

“No, I imagine it wouldn’t be, a custom scent like that.”

Astarion regarded the candle now as he released her from that hair raising stare. He stopped running his fingertip across the lip of the candle and dipped it into the molten wax.

Jen’s eyes widened, watching in disbelief as he drew his finger out and let a drop fall just above his collarbone.

Her head swam at the sight of it and she couldn’t be compelled to look away to save her soul. She felt the color rising into her face and the troublesome little knot in the pit of her stomach squirm again.

Oxygen. Where was the oxygen in this damn room?

No. No.

This was ok. This was normal. She was owning this, remember? Couldn’t hide it, gods knew, so she would own it. She cleared her throat pointedly, letting her gaze rest on the drop of wax cooling in the curve of his perfect skin. He turned to look up at her. She pivoted to leave, somehow retaining a hint of poise about her.

“You’ve got your towel and have clearly found a way to amuse yourself, so I’ll leave you to your indulgences.”

As Jen crossed the threshold back into the bedroom, she caught a quiet sound, half scoff, half laugh, from the tub behind her. No further sound followed for a moment as she slid back up on her bed and took stock of herself.

Jen heard the water lapping gently from the bathroom as Astarion settled back in, and she stole a glance through the open door, watching his hand come to rest on the side of the tub, wall once again freeing her by obscuring everything else.

Holy hells, she’d managed it. That… wasn’t so bad. Right?

She let the grin on her face grow with her own devilish amusement. She could do this. She could totally do this. She had a workable survival strategy, and, shit, not a moment too soon.

Chapter 5: Picture This

Summary:

All you really need to know about this one is that Astarion gets his face back and that Jen is a dork.

5. Picture This

Jen woke to the sound of purring and cardboard being shredded. Eva sat next to her face, executing her best whiny purr. Wabbajack was angrily shredding his shoe box on the dresser. Onyxia sat patiently on the foot of the bed.

The breakfast alarm crew was in action as usual.

She watched Onyxia, wondering how the most feral kitten had somehow become the most well mannered. The light was hitting her fur, turning the black almost chocolate. Jen reached for her phone, swiping the camera open to snap a quick picture.

She grimaced as she realized she’d left it turned around in selfie mode.

And then she froze.

Selfie mode.

Holy fucking hell, selfie mode! The phones had selfie mode!

Where was Astarion?

Jen almost exploded off the bed. Eva’s purring turned into an annoyed meow as her human cannonballed out of the bedroom and into the living room.

She skidded to a halt as she noticed Astarion in the armchair staring at her sudden appearance in surprise. Her brain barely registered that he was wearing her bathrobe.

“I have to feed the cats,” she said, unable to keep her excitement contained, and also trying to ignore him being in her bathrobe.

He looked at her, much as he had when she’d had her laughing fit in the creek.

“I have to show you something,” she repeated, “but I have to feed the cats first.”

“By all means,” he said, “feed the cats then?”

“Yes. Right. Sorry.”

Astarion eyed her with concern as she hustled into the kitchen to get the wet food onto the dishes for her clowder. Once the trio had mustered the courage to dart through the occupied living room, Eva prowled around her feet, swatting at Ony and Wabbs when they got too close, as she did every meal time.

Jen could not get herself to settle down. He could see himself!

Maybe.

Did phone cameras use mirrors? Would a vampire show up in photos?

She wasn’t sure. It was likely something she had better figure out before she tried it on him because it was likely to come across as a cruel trick if it didn’t work.

Please tell me someone has asked this before.

She leaned on the counter as the cats ate, typing her question into Google. There was some debate about vampires and pictures, and, as she anticipated, it centered around the use of mirrors in cameras. Working in tech for a living gave her strong Google-fu skills, however, so with the results inconclusive, she altered the search terms.

Did phone cameras rely on mirrors?

It seemed that the answer was generally no.

Astarion cleared his throat. He was standing and looking at her expectantly. The red robe, covered in Christmas themed cats, actually suited him pretty well, if not a tad short. She was far too excited to dwell on it, though, either the annoyance at having her lounge clothes co-opted, or her butterflies at being confronted by Astarion in a bathrobe less than a full day after first meeting him.

“I believe you have one of these phones for me?”

“Yes,” she said, breathless. She could give him his face back. Jen got to give him his face back.

“Are you quite alright,” he asked her, voice laced with concern, “because you’re in quite a state this morning. Whatever is wrong, I didn’t-”

“Yes, I’m fine. Let’s get your phone set up for you.”

She could not suppress a smile as she unplugged it from the counter where she’d left it to charge, noticing with a frown that it was already on.

“I tried to get it to do what yours did, but the bloody thing wanted a passcode.”

“Yes, they do that,” she answered with a sharp breath of amusement. “To keep people from prying where they shouldn’t.”

Jen raised an eyebrow pointedly at Astarion. He hmphed back at her, crossing his arms defensively.

“Hey, at least you figured out how to power it on.”

He waved a hand.

“Well, there were only so many buttons to try.”

Honestly, she was a bit surprised that he hadn’t woken her up before the cats, all things considered. Jen sighed as she glanced down at the lock screen. It had been over a year since she’d punched this one in. She considered the phone for a moment. She’d left it active because it was cheaper to have three lines than two somehow. (She never pretended to understand the intricacies of phone plan pricing.)

She considered a factory reset, handing Astarion a completely clean device, but thought about all the pictures she’d be losing if she did this. They could be moved to the cloud, of course, but that would take time, and Jen got the sense that Astarion would not have the patience. As for what else was on the phone, all the important accounts had already been deactivated anyway. She went through the mental checklist -- banking, socials, email, passwords -- then unlocked the phone.

“And?” came the impatient voice, now from over her shoulder. “What’s the code?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re going to reset it so you can make your own. Pick one that you’ll remember.”

She handed the phone to Astarion, who looked down at it and paused, suddenly hesitant.

“Tap the numbers you want to use. It will show asterisks, but that’s just a security thing. To keep prying eyes ignorant,” she added pointedly.

He thought for a moment then tapped the first number tentatively. An asterisk appeared on the display line. He picked another number. Another asterisk appeared. Jen suddenly felt an almost overpowering urge to grab the device and type it out for him as she watched.

He poked a third number. Jen set her teeth and waited.

She breathed out audibly when he tapped the fourth and final number.

“Don’t forget that number,” she warned him. “It will cause all kinds of problems if you do.”

“It’s not one I’ll forget,” he murmured.

“Good. Phone crash course time.” She held hers up next to his. “These little pictures, these icons, each one will make the phone open a different tool. This one right here, this is Google Maps, which you saw last night.”

She stopped for a moment and looked at the chaos of the screen in his hand. There was absolutely no order to the icons there.

“Let me borrow this for a moment. I’m going to remove some of this crap that’ll only be in the way.”

Jen dragged icons away until there were only a few left on the screen.

“Alright,” she said, placing the phone back in his hand, “Google Maps. This is your map. Poke that little picture to open it.”

Astarion did as she asked and the app opened up.

“Great. Now, see those little symbols on the bottom of the screen? Use those to go back and pick a different tool.”

She showed him on her own phone, using the home button and then opening up Chrome. He watched intently, then imitated it.

“This one is Chrome. This is where you access the internet. The internet does a lot of things, but right now, the most useful is that it can give you any information you need.” She paused. “Er, well, anything that exists in the realm of earthly knowledge currently.

“Tap that empty box and the letters you can use to put in your question will appear at the bottom of the screen. Type in your question or what you want to know, hit the one that says ‘Go,’ and as long as the phone is working correctly, you should get an answer back. Give it a try.”

“Alright,” he said, hesitant. Jen braced herself to watch him poke the screen a letter at a time.

His first letter was an ‘A’ followed by ‘S’ but then he paused.

“What kind of nonsense order are these letters even in?”

“Uh, QWERTY, which you can look up on your own or I can explain later.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Get used to it because it’s standard here.”

He continued poking letters at a painfully slow rate.

T. A. R. I. O. N.

He touched the Go button before Jen fully processed that his very first instinct was to Google himself. She felt time hiccup around her as all of the collective internet Astarion content poured through her head.

Oh no. Oh gods, no.

She sucked in a breath and looked at his screen, terrified to see what might have appeared, but breathed again when it seemed pretty generic, algorithm be praised. Her phone might have populated different results, but luckily, the default ones seemed very tame.

He didn’t seem particularly taken in by the cover art for Baldur’s Gate 3, even though he was depicted front and center. He was, at least for now, more interested in what the overview said about him, scrolling past the image to read.

Jen read hurriedly over his shoulder, pleased that it immediately called him out as a rogue, a vampire, and a video game character, all of which she’d truthfully told him yesterday evening. Well, almost all of which. Neither of them had said the word vampire but it was clearly understood.

“If you want to see more information, you can touch the blue words and it will usually take you to more detailed info. You can also pick more sources to read from by scrolling down. Just place your finger on the screen and move it up.”

She tapped his screen and showed him.

“‘Am I ok with polyamory?’” he read aloud from under the ‘people also ask’ heading. “Excuse me? Who is asking this?”

“The internet as a collective.” Jen’s head swam a bit at the thought of trying to explain the internet and particularly fandoms, especially BG3 fandoms to him. “The internet has some, uh, well, thoughts and some… look, you’re a popular guy, but people can be a bit… feral?”

“Feral?” he asked, looking at her with a frown.

“Amorous?” she tried.

His face lit with understanding and amusement. He started scrolling further down the search results and Jen shifted her weight. She didn’t particularly want to watch him swipe through his own smut deep in the recesses of the internet.

“Can you maybe look into that later?” she interrupted. “I have things to do today and need to finish showing you the rest of the phone.”

“Fine,” he responded with a tone that said her idea seemed much less entertaining.

“Besides, I think you’ll find this next tool even more fun right now.”

“More entertaining than reading my own smut?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Oh?” he asked with obvious curiosity.

“Remember those cameras I was telling you about yesterday? Your phone has one. Tap that circle to go back to that home screen, the one with the little icons of the tools, and tap that third one that we haven’t used yet.”

He did as she instructed, letting out an audible murmur of interest as the screen showed what the camera was seeing. Astarion lifted the phone up, panning around the room with it.

“Now that is interesting.”

“Touch that white circle in the bottom there and it will take a picture of what’s on the screen and save it to the phone.”

He tapped it. The screen flashed and the picture showed in miniature next to the shutter button. Astarion turned with the phone and pointed it at her. She stared blankly at him.

“Look at that! Your little face is right there in the corner now.”

“Ok, but that’s not the best part,” she said, trying to steer him away from pointing the phone at her. She hesitated, thinking it may be best to get him seated first. “This next bit will work better in the living room. Better lighting. Come sit on the couch and I’ll show you.”

She walked ahead of him to the sofa and sat, leaving the middle free for him. He joined her, still pointing the phone in random directions and poking the screen. Her heart started to hammer against her chest as Astarion situated himself next to her. He had stopped poking the phone, eyeing her with a frown instead.

“All right, my dear, what is it?”

She could hear the sudden tension in his voice.

“You’ll like it, I promise,” she reassured him. “Put your finger at the bottom of the picture. Good. Now, swipe your finger from bottom to top. Yep, just like that.”

Jen held her breath. It took a moment, but as soon as Astarion truly saw the image on the phone, he sat frozen, staring in disbelief. Just as she had hoped and prayed would happen, he was staring back up at himself from the screen.

Jen bit her lower lip, watching him. Moments stretched into minutes, and she had the good sense to stay still and say absolutely nothing, to let him process this.

“That’s…” he finally whispered. “That’s my face.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “It is.”

He said nothing, didn’t budge, kept staring. Finally, he reached a hand to his face gingerly, touching it to his cheek, entranced by the image of himself doing the same in reverse.

“If you give me a moment,” Jen said, “I think I can actually project it to the big screen, if you want me to.”

Astarion broke his gaze away from the phone and stared at her, completely lost somewhere in his own thoughts.

“The TV,” she said softly, nodding toward the screen on the wall. “If you’d like a better look.”

“Please,” he said, voice heartbreakingly quiet, trying to hand her the phone.

“You hang onto that for a second. I’ll tell you when I need it.”

Jen left the phone in his hand while she turned the television on. She navigated through the menus, searching for screencasting while Astarion began tilting his head this way and that, moving the phone in and out.

“If I could have that for just a second,” she said. He handed the phone to her almost reverently. Jen felt her heart melt in her chest as he did so. She connected the phone to the TV and there he was, writ large on a 70 inch screen.

Jen handed the phone back to Astarion and sat on the couch in curious silence as he looked down to the phone and then back up to the screen.

He stood up, stepping closer to the television, holding the phone out at arms length in front of him now, and Jen wanted to cheer as he unfolded into his best self, becoming more animated by the moment. She watched him tilted his head, bare his fangs, shoot a scathing look into the phone, and then level his most mischievous grin at it.

Probably easier to do if he's not one handed…

“Here,” she said, standing up. “Allow me to help for a second.”

He looked at her, excitement written plainly on his face, and her heart skipped a beat. She gently took the phone from his hand, flipped the camera back around, stepped back next to the TV, and aimed it at him.

He laughed as he realized he could see himself from head to foot on the screen now. Jen stayed still, grinning behind the camera as he struck a pose, then another, watching himself prance across the living room floor.

He finally came to a stop with another laugh.

“Gods, I’m stunning. I mean, obviously, but look at me.”

“I noticed,” Jen replied a bit ruefully. “Thanks for the show.”

More laughter.

Let him laugh like that forever, gods, please.

She shook herself out of her thoughts as she noticed him turned toward her, hand on hip.

“Well, now I definitely know who those pictures you’ve got in your clutter room depict.”

Jen blushed, but shrugged. For the moment, her excitement at being able to give this back to him completely overpowered the embarrassment she felt to have accidentally confirmed that little factoid in the process.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of me if you want. It was worth it to give this back to you.”

He blinked at her, and then his stance changed, face falling carefully blank.

Shit.

Had she overstepped? Certainly not by giving him this, but maybe she should have just shut the hell up for a change.

“Thank you,” he said. Jen looked back at him, surprised. He gave her a tentative smile.

A real one.

Jen thought her heart was going to burst.

He looked back at the screen, trailing off.

“This is…”

“You’re so, so welcome. Gods, I am so excited for you. I can’t even imagine.” She paused awkwardly. “I should shut up now. Anyway, I have to run some errands today, so I’ll be out for a bit. I’d ask if you need anything from the store but-”

Astarion had stepped up to take the phone back from her. She let him, trying to ignore how her robe was framing his chest perfectly. He flipped the camera back to see his face in selfie mode again, and the energy in the room changed as he backed toward the couch and collapsed. Jen’s scalp prickled as she suddenly felt like she was intruding on a very personal moment. She looked away, but caught the sight on the TV.

A tear ran down his cheek. He raised a hand to wipe it away, looking at it as though he was seeing it for the first time. She saw him touch his face gently, finger coming away wet.

Instantly, Jen was torn.

She wanted to comfort him, but she did not want to touch him. Well, she did, but she didn't. She wasn’t sure how he’d take it, and truthfully, how she’d take it either. She wasn’t a casual touch kind of gal, never had been. She might be able to manage an awkward shoulder pat, though?

She glanced back to the couch and saw that he’d already mastered himself, clearing the obvious tears and simply staring down instead now.

Best to leave him to himself.

She slipped from her post beside the TV, retreating into the game room, the “clutter room” he had called it, to grab her backpack.

She couldn’t really comfort him, but maybe she could help him forget? Give him something diverting for the time being?

Jen began to plan wildly in her mind, ideas tumbling over each other in excitement.

Yes, that might work. She would get him a phone mount, like the ones for the car. He could mount it to the side of the television, have both his hands free for preening. He could probably use a hairbrush, maybe something to help with nails? All she was truly familiar with on that front were clippers and polish, but she supposed she could bear the embarrassment of asking for help in Ulta. Getting a gift for a niece or something would work as an excuse. It was Christmas time, after all.

She didn’t dare try to detangle the mystery of hair products. That would be well beyond her for now. Either way, she had a lot to get done before the evening. It was Dungeons and Dragons night. With any luck, Astarion would be so caught up in his reflection and preening that she could just forget he was there for a time while she relaxed with the party in Discord.

Jen could think of nothing other than how Astarion was faring and how excited she was for him the entire time that she was out. She had to stop at two different grocery stores because she’d forgotten half of what she wanted to buy at the first one.

When she got back to the house several hours later, she expected to find him still frozen in front of the screen, but he was lounging comfortably in the armchair he seemed to have claimed as his, still in her damned bathrobe. Good thing she’d bought him one of his own. Plus a few random tee shirts and baggy pajama pants since she had no idea what size anything he wore.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hello, my dear,” he responded without looking up. He sounded so much more relaxed now, she noted with a smile. Even Wabbajack must have picked up on it, because he was curled on the couch nearby.

“Uh, hope I wasn’t too forward but I brought some stuff back for you.”

He lifted his head and looked at her.

“Oh?”

She started toward him, hands full of bags.

“Here. I suck at this but you obviously don’t have much with you and I figured you’d probably want some of this.”

He took the bags from her and blinked down into them, pausing, brow quirked, and then looked back up at her, incredulous.

“You really do want to help me, don’t you? Gods, you’re actually a sweetheart beneath that prickly exterior, aren’t you?”

Jen’s face flushed red.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she muttered, “You’re someone I know, kind of, so…” She caught his eye, and his amused smile. “But, I do actually want to help you. I meant that when I first said it and I mean it now.”

He cleared his throat as one would before making a proclamation and gathered himself into a haughty pose.

“I can see that. I may have used this little device to do some digging while you were out. The things you said about how you knew me and where we are? You told the truth on every point.”

“I did,” she affirmed for what felt like the billionth time. “I was kind of hoping you’d picked up on that already, but now is good, too.”

He chuckled and shrugged. Jen looked off into the corner of the room for a moment, thinking back to the weirdness that happened last night in her bedroom and bathroom, and bit her lip.

She’d been puzzling over his forwardness while she was out, too. It had been wildly unexpected, had seemed a bit too forward, even for him, and she finally thought she knew what had happened.

And this is probably the best shot I’ll have at broaching this subject with him…

“So,” she said, catching his eye sideways, “now that you know I’m really just trying to help, lay off the seduction tactics, will you?”

He burst into laughter.

“So,” he drawled conspiratorially, “this trick with the camera was all a ploy, then?”

“No, Astarion, again, it was genuine. BUT. I’m not above using it to make a point. I am on your side. For the love of all that is holy, you do not need to seduce me. You’re safe without needing to do that. Seriously.”

“Point taken, darling,” he ceded with a mischievous grin turning back to the phone. “Well. Let’s see what we can do with these goodies you’ve brought me.”

Chapter 6: Only Half

Summary:

A standard Dungeons and Dragons session with a curious audience. The fact that Jen's character of three years and counting is a dhampir may come up.

6. Only Half

Bah-ding! The Discord join noise never failed to cheer her up, especially on a Saturday evening.

“Hen-lo frens,” she announced.

“Oh. Herro,” came the reply, along with an hola, and a howdy.

“How’s it going, Jen?”

“Good, good.”

“Do anything fun this weekend?”

“Oh you know,” she said, thinking back to the last twenty four hours and the honest to gods elf preening in front of the TV in the living room. “The usual. Dicking around in the creek, spending quality time with my favorite elf.”

“Meanwhile, I got my Honour Run done finally,” Lex chimed in.

“Hell yeah, man!”

Jen had no idea how she’d have survived without her online support system. They’d all met in games over the last decade and a half, and since then had met up for cons, dropped in on each other when nearby, and kept each other sane while the world seemed to be on fire. The group she was in the current Dungeons and Dragons campaign with had been playing together for almost five years now, though the current campaign was probably closer to three years old. It was a hell of a fun campaign, too. They’d intentionally started it as an anti-hero campaign, in which not a single one of them was out to rescue the world. She had wanted to play a vampire, but that was vetoed because of their insane stats. She ended up working with the DM to come up with a half-vampire instead. It was only later that she learned that dhampir were an established thing.

She adored her character; it was wildly fun to be able to just be a bastard when she spent so much of her life stressing out about playing by the rules. The bard-rogue had become the de-facto party leader of their Saturday campaign, which was new to her. Their buddy Odell had taken up the mantle with his cleric last campaign, but this time, the personalities shook out such that it was her turn. She found it suited Zaralyia spectacularly. The half-vampire was very keen to help direct the others on their personal quests if only because she knew she was going to need to call in some serious favors to get them to help finish hers.

The vampire lord that was her father was not a threat to be taken lightly, as they had already discovered in a near TPK. Behind the scenes, she’d been working with the DM about the character’s trauma from that encounter and she could not wait for the day the journal she’d started keeping, detailing her full plans and true motivations, was discovered and dragged into the light.

It was going to be gloriously messy. She sincerely hoped she had the other five party members locked down by the time the story came to a head, because to achieve her goals, she was going to need them.

“Hey Lex, where did we leave off last?” asked Odell.

“Mmm, I think we were going to follow the snakes into the swamp? Something about the local legend?”

“Yes,” Jen affirmed. “Angi is out today so we’re down a cleric. Side quest time.”

“Who are you talking to?” came a voice behind her.

“Uh, sec guys,” she told the group before turning to Astarion. “I’m talking to my party. We’re about to start our game.”

“Game?”

“Yeah. Remember the whole role playing game thing? One of those. And no, don’t even think it. I didn’t lie about that either.”

“Guilty,” Astarion responded with a smile and a wave. “So you what? Just talk to each other through whatever the hells you’ve got on your head right now?”

“A headset, and yeah. Kind of? Anyway, I’m just playing a game. Just ignore me for a while and apologies in advance if I get a bit loud.”

“If I were, say, interested in this game-”

“No. Not happening.”

“Oh, come on!”

“It’s not something I can just teach you real quick.”

Gods no, not the sad cat face.

She cracked her neck. While she had mixed feelings about playing her dhampir rogue under his watchful gaze, there honestly probably wasn’t a good way to stop him. His hearing was almost certainly good enough that he could eavesdrop either way. And he would. He absolutely would.

She sighed, defeated.

“Look, you’re welcome to listen in and watch, alright? But that’s it. Let me reroute the sound so you can hear these idiots.”

“Excellent.”

“Hey guys,” said their DM, joining in at seven on the nose. A chorus of hellos greeted him. “Sorry, had to get the little one down. Wifey’s not feeling great today.”

“Hope she’s feeling better,” Jen said, observing the expected social nicety before making her announcement. “Hey, I’ve got a friend over and they’re going to listen in, just a heads up.”

“Hi Jen’s friend!” said half the group loudly.

“Ooooooohh, what kind of friend?” taunted Garvok.

“Not that kind, thanks.”

“That kind?” asked Astarion, amused. “Have many friends of that kind, do you?”

“Not a one,” she quipped back before queueing the mic back up. “ANY-way. So, Daylord, what wonderful adventure are we going on tonight?”

“Well, remember, you fought and defeated the giant constrictor last time. Bob used speak with dead and talk with animals to find out where it came from. Jen and Garvok found a map and a legend in the lockbox in the inn that says a treasure can be found deep in the swamp. Can you all see the screen?”

Jen tabbed over to the second monitor and opened up Roll20, confirming that she could. The others were good to go as well. She risked a glance at Astarion who was silently taking it all in.

He was in his own new clothes now, looking way more scrumptious than she’d have thought he could in a pair of plain grey pj bottoms and tee shirt. He’d chosen to sit backwards on the empty desk chair in the room, leaning forward in what appeared to be curious anticipation.

Wonderful.

She turned back to the screen as their DM spoke.

“So what’s the marching order for entering the cave?”

“This was Garvok’s idea so I say he goes first,” she grumbled. “Not wild about traipsing through this damn swamp.”

“Fine. I’ll go first.” As was usual, Jen preferred to be near the rear of the party for combat and moved her token to the back. Better to let the expendables get monched by the baddies.

As they crept their way through the mouth of the cave, the DM narrated what they saw. Moss, slime, dripping water, mud, and muck, all disquieting for the water averse, but not a big problem until the cave opened into a wide, tepid pool.

“Nope,” said Jen, leaning away from the screen and crossing her arms. “I am not going in that. Not happening.”

“What? Why not?” asked Bob. “It's not even that deep on this side.”

Lex sighed.

“Vampire, remember?”

Wonderful. Starting strong.

This was a long-running bit for the party. While she was, in truth, a half vampire, they were convinced she was just a straight vampire no matter what she did to prove otherwise. Jen heard Astarion shift the chair and clear his throat quietly behind her.

Own it.

“Not a vampire,” she replied back, exasperated. “Only half . For the thousandth time.”

“Riiiiiiight,” drawled Garvok. “Vampire.”

“Either way, I am not stepping in that. One of you had better figure out how deep that is and if there’s another side because I am not going a step further until you do.”

“Fine, I’ll summon my axebeak,” said Odell. The axebeak appeared on the screen and proceeded to walk it through the water a turn at a time. Nothing untoward happened, and the group determined that they’d press on, using the axebeak to ferry them across one by one.

“So,” said Astarion as he watched the party move their tokens, “you’re a vampire are you?”

“No. Only half.”

“Hm. Why does the party think you’re a vampire, then?”

Jen kept an eye on the virtual tabletop and swiveled the chair half around to face Astarion.

“Oh you know, mostly the whole drinking blood thing.”

“Yes, that does tend to be a bit of a tell,” he laughed. His eyes sparkled as he leaned toward her. “Which of them did you bite?”

“I haven’t bitten any of them! But I maybe bit a bandit or three and kept sneaking off in the middle of the night back at the thieves’ town so…”

“Jen, you’re up.”

She spun back around. Right, where were they? The far edge of the pool. She moved her first forty feet and froze.

“Shit, that is a big snake. Uh, I’d like to hide.”

“Roll stealth.”

“Advantage, yes? Since it’s dark?”

“Yep.”

Jen rolled well beyond what she needed to. Astarion spoke up again.

“What is advantage and why does it being dark matter?”

“Advantage means you roll twice for something and keep the better result.”

“Ah, I see,” he murmured. “So, you hide better in the dark. Awfully suspect, my dear.”

“HALF vampire. Half. My father was. My mother wasn’t and she’s dead, so.”

“Jen, you there?” interrupted Daylord.

“Yes, what?” she barked back.

“You can use your bonus action still.”

“Right, sorry. Was arguing with my friend here.”

“Oh? What about?” asked Lex. His tone indicated that he already knew.

“Explaining that I’m not a fucking vampire.”

The whole party burst into laughter, and Astarion joined them.

“Definitely a vampire,” quipped Garvok.

“Half,” she mumbled back, gritting her teeth. If they were going to be pissing Zara off tonight, well…

“I use my bonus action to dash to the far corner.”

“Ok. Perception check please.”

She heard a few of her party members suck in their breath. She rolled, virtual dice making a clacking noise as they flipped across the screen.

“You are standing amongst what look to be glowing snake eggs.”

More importantly, she noticed, though it was unsaid, this wing of the cave was a dead end. The only way back out was going to be either behind the giant snake to the south, or back through the damn water.

She took stock of her situation, giant snake blocking the exit, her alone standing in its eggs, Zara having just been thoroughly annoyed by her compatriots… An idea took shape.

Plus, Lex and Odell are not exactly playing stealthy builds, so they’ll get seen shortly anyway…

“I’m going to use my mage hand to throw a pebble into the water.”

“That’s where the party is standing,” noted the DM.

“Yep.”

This touched off a storm of protest.

“Alright. The rest of you, stealth check please. And that’s a failure. Initiative, please.”

“Did you just sic a giant snake on your party?” Astarion broke in.

She grinned sheepishly and shrugged.

“They had it coming and they can’t sneak for shit. Also, there’s not an exit over here so I need them engaged so I have a clear escape if shit goes south.”

“What a horribly selfish thing to do,” he scolded her.

Jen found herself grinning even wider. The delight written across Astarion’s face started to change her mind about inviting him to watch. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Damn it,” she heard Odell saying “Alright, I’ll use the axebeak to block the tunnel in front of us.”

She watched the token for the snake and the bird collide as combat began in earnest.

After a quite a few rounds, when things seemed damn near lost, the engagement ended just as chaotically as it had started. Odell had gotten swallowed whole and was melting away in a tomb of snake belly when he had the most patently Dungeons and Dragons idea that they’d had that night.

“Daylord, mmmh, what would happen if I were to use Gust of Wind in here?”

Discord fell silent. Astarion was laughing uproariously behind her, having seen the ploy already.

“I- what? Er, are you trying to blast your way out by giving the snake gas?”

“Pretty much. I was to try to launch myself back out of the mouth by aiming a gust of wind.”

“Ok, I’m going to Rule of Cool this. Roll a D6.”

The party watched and waited for the results to post. Daylord started laughing when they did.

“You aim your gust of wind the wrong direction. Instead of being shot out of its mouth, you shoot yourself out of its rear. The resulting internal damage ruptures organs and the snake takes an additional twenty-six damage, finishing it off.”

Jen’s hand hit her face as she fell to laughing with the group. When they collected themselves, wiping away snake bits and shattered egg shells, they found themselves standing over a large pile of prolapsed snake and a single ring. Odell, already being covered in slime and viscera from his travels through the snake’s digestive system, picked the ring up and handed it to Jen for identification.

“You guys,” announced Daylord, pausing ominously, “have found a ring of wish.”

“Ohhh shit,” whispered Lex as the group fell silent.

“It is activated by the words ‘I wish’ so if anyone holding it accidentally says it, guess what?”

“The ring gets triggered,” said Garvok.

“Yes,” confirmed the DM, before pausing for dramatic effect. “So who’s holding the ring?”

Jen had leaned forward in her seat the moment she heard the word ‘wish.’ Zara had already been killed by her father once, and was desperate for a get out of death free card before he managed to hunt her down again. A wish seemed like a very, very good tool to have in her pocket to arrange this.

Jen spoke up before anyone else began.

“Well,” she said with a laugh, “Odell and our cleric are straight out because they’d both trigger it by mistake and we know it.”

The group laughed along.

Good.

“I’m also not wild about Lex, since we know how his last wish panned out with that damn leprechaun.”

“Oh come on,” argued Lex. “It wasn’t that bad!”

A round of emphatic disagreement came through the speakers. They were literally still running into remnants of that disaster two years on.

“Which leaves Bob, who is an automatic no, and Garvok.”

“What! Why am I an automatic no?” argued Bob.

“Because you’re a chaos monger. You’d use it randomly just for the effect.”

“Whaaaaaat?”

“I’m not wrong, and you know it,” she insisted.

No one spoke up to defend him, mostly because she was indeed entirely correct, so he ceded his claim with a final grumpy remark.

“So,” said their DM, “Garvok, or Jen?”

“Well,” Jen mused out loud, “Garvok tends to hold all our treasure for us…”

She leaned back and grinned fiercely when he spoke up to argue.

Perfect.

“Yeah, but I think you’re more likely not to accidentally trigger it as our bard.”

She made a show of thinking about it before falling quiet and holding her breath. Lex spoke up first.

“I vote Zara holds the ring.” The rest of the party thought for a moment then affirmed the plan. Jen leaned back in her chair with a wicked smile, rubbing her palms together.

Damn good thing we don’t play in person. I would never get away with this shit.

Astarion’s silky smooth voice startled her out of her plotting.

“You have no intention of giving it back.”

She’d completely forgotten about him, lost in her plan to get that ring under her control. Jen turned to him, swaying her chair back and forth with her biggest shit-eating grin.

“Of course not. They should have known better than to give it to me for safe keeping.”

“So,” she caught from the DM, “anything else to sort out before we call it for the night?”

“The usual question: how long are we staying here?” Jen jumped in before she had a moment to glance through her inventory to the sanguine flask in it. “Wait. Never mind. Still have Garvok’s blood.”

“Damn it, Zara,” Garvok said.

“You asked us to kill you!”

The party giggled. Garvok had, in fact, done just that. Zara had enthusiastically advocated for this to be done in the bathtub for reasons that only became clear once the party was happily hacking up their weirdly-ok-with-it wizard.

The DM, sensing they were indeed done with the action for the night, logged off, and Jen excused herself as well, citing her friend's presence for her quick departure.

Astarion’s eyes glittered as she turned toward him.

“Curious. I thought you said you hadn’t bitten any of them.”

“Technically I didn’t bite him. He asked us to kill him, and I thought it best not to waste the blood.”

“Oh, I see,” said Astarion, nodding with mock sagacity. “Quite different.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he raised a hand.

“No, no judgement from me, my dear. Though I realize now that I must rephrase my original question. How many of your comrades have you tasted ?”

Jen rolled her eyes, crossing her arms with an exaggerated sigh, caught red-lipped, as it were. There was no way she was lying her way out of this.

“Three of the five,” she admitted. His triumphant expression compelled her to explain further.

“Ok, look, Lex volunteered once when we were in a tight spot, but said it wasn’t going to be a habit and wasn't cool with me doing the biting, so I had to ask for a different donor the next time I needed one. Bob asked his patron about my request that time and immediately got a nosebleed, so that seemed like pretty clear advice from said patron to me. Then Garvok needed us to kill him to test some stupid contract, so I convinced the party to kill him in a bathtub. For reasons. Reasons that may have been putting my feet up, savoring a glass, and watching.”

She felt herself flush at his delighted laughter. Jen had more than a hunch that she knew why he was probing this so very thoroughly.

“So, you regularly nibble on your allies?”

“Again. No nibbling. But I mean, if the blood just happens to be there?”

He tutted at her.

“I suppose animals were out of the question during these desperate times?”

“Our DM makes the rules and he says animal blood doesn’t work for me, so, yes, actually,” she said, bristling. “Humanoid only. I get about three days before I get, uh, ‘hangry’ and maybe a little dangerous to be around. Keeps things interesting for the game.”

“How very fascinating.”

Jen knew she was still beet red, but forced herself through it, tilting her head up defiantly.

“Turns out, Zara is kind of partial to the elves in the group, but I’m going to have all five of them sampled by the end of this campaign. It’s kind of a secret side quest of mine,” she admitted, picking at her nails. She could not make eye contact at the moment. Whatever she was seeing sidelong in Astarion’s face was enough.

“Plus, if you think this is bad, wait til you see how I play the game you’re from.”

“Ah, yes,” letting her off the hook finally. “About that. I think I’d like to see my game. Is it the one you just played?”

“Same basic rules, but it’s a video game so it’s something else entirely.”

Jen finally gathered the fortitude to look up. Astarion was looking at her differently, she realized. Not quite hungry like last night, or intensely interested like back at the creek. He seemed more curious than anything at this point. Curious and…

Scheming. He’s scheming.

She exhaled.

“I need to pass out for the night. Also, I’m sleeping on the couch this time so get your own damn towel if you use my bathroom again. Don’t burn my good candle all the way down, please. And plug your phone in when you’re back if you don’t want it to stop working. It has to charge.”

“So many demands,” he sighed dramatically.

“Also, regardless of how Zara may or may not behave, you are still obliged to keep your fangs to yourself, capisce?”

“Ugh, no fun.”

Astarion had drawn his lips into a pout. Jen shot him a warning glare.

“Yes, yes, off to find the plonk,” he said, standing up and seeing himself out of the room.

Notes:

I considered skipping this altogether, but ultimately kept it in because it plays a pretty big role in what Astarion's thinking about his guide at the moment. You'll see this in the next chapter, which is the first one from his POV. :)

Chapter 7: Watchful Eyes

Summary:

First Astarion POV chapter, where we get a better sense of what's going on in that pretty little head of his.

7. Watchful Eyes

Astarion looked down at his phone and ran his free hand through his hair as he examined how this new bath robe brought out his eye color. Yes, that would just about do. He’d had to clean himself up since he'd managed to find a wild pig tonight, which was a damn sight better than whatever the hells that armored little rodent he’d grabbed several of the first night had been. Damn things were tough as boiled leather and curled into defensive little balls when snatched. He'd almost ripped the bloody things in half trying to find somewhere to get a proper drink.

At least wild pig, though more of a fight, had an obvious neck. He’d had to make do the first night, hadn't paid enough attention to the trails, honestly, when his guide had led him out of the woods the first time, but now that he had this phone with its handy little map, he felt more confident hunting further afield.

Of course, neither pig nor oversized armor-wearing rodent would have been his preferred diet, but he was certain he wouldn’t be dining in the woods forever.

He kept thinking back to his host’s accidental slip of the tongue and her adorable little attempt to gloss over it. Add her blasé attitude when she was the vampire, and well… he’d work out a way soon enough. He had considered trying to steal a bite that first night (gods below knew he needed his head clearer than it was), but decided that it hadn’t been worth the risk. Not yet.

It was fortunate, really, because he seemed to have misjudged her that first night.

She was, for all he could tell, a sharp-tongued, clever, fatalistic little slip of a thing, but he genuinely had not been able to work out what she wanted from him. As a result, he’d had no idea what to make of her. He’d think he was a step or two ahead of her hidden machinations, but then she’d go and blow up his theories.

When he had first heard her frantic little heartbeat behind him in the woods, he’d figured her for a deliciously easy mark, a lovely little snack to inaugurate his new quest. Who but a thief or outlaw would be lurking in the woods, after all? But before he could indulge himself, she’d gone and found sanctuary in that damn creek, kept him at bay long enough to talk sense into him, and made it clear she knew who -- and more importantly what -- he was.

He’d found himself at a distinct disadvantage until, listening to her fumbling bravado, he’d realized that it was not fear alone driving that frantic pulse. He suddenly saw it in how her throat moved unconsciously every time he spoke, how she would look at him, freeze for just a breath, then look away. Knowing quite well how to manipulate that, and lacking a better plan, he had been preparing to seduce her out of the stream, but she’d gone and surprised him again when she simply walked out and made the unfathomably stupid decision to invite him into her home.

Well, it was good that he hadn’t killed her in that stream, it turned out, because this world was wildly different. All it took was that one walk out of the woods to understand that he was damn near helplessly lost and desperately needed to secure a guide. And it seemed that the universe had handed him one that just might work, if he could bring her under his influence.

After drinks -- her idea -- and an enlightening evening studying her further, he’d felt certain he’d have her curled around his finger before sun up if he played his hand right. Her little slip of the tongue before bed had more than convinced him of that, but then the whole fiasco with the bath had happened, and, by the hells, he still wasn’t sure how.

She’d been so obviously enthralled by him and so painfully shy about it, so deliciously easy to fluster until she just, he didn’t know, decided that she wasn’t? It was not the reaction he was used to, and he’d been left to worry alone in the tub wondering what in the hells she actually wanted from him.

After failing to get her in hand for the second time in a single evening, he’d snuffed out the candles he had hoped to put to better use and proceeded to snoop around the disaster of a house she’d let him into. It was well built, comfortable, free of bugs and vermin, but signs of neglect lay right alongside meticulously tended spaces. He was certain that there was a deeper story and that it would be exceedingly useful to know it.

She was clearly not the only one who lived here. Everything she had, she had a duplicate of. Two phones, one of which was now his. Two ‘computers’ on two desks. Two dressers in a single bedroom, one full of clothes that frankly, were far superior to the little mud mephit’s style.

Astarion’s eyes settled on the sleeping figure on the couch. Alright, mud mephit was too uncharitable.

He may have met her when she was covered in the stuff, but truth be told, she cleaned up alright. One eyelid was slightly puffier than the other and she possessed maybe a few more beauty marks than he’d prefer, but she did have a shapely little face.

But, gods above, her neckline? Now that was divine, especially when she stuck that little chin of hers stubbornly in the air as she frequently did. He had started provoking her simply to watch her tighten up that delicious curve for him all over again.

Astarion bit his lip, ignoring the ever-lurking hunger, and drew himself away from thoughts of Jen’s neck.

She wasn’t unattractive, he decided. If anything, she seemed entirely disinterested in her own appearance, perhaps even oblivious to it. There was not a beauty product to be found next to her dusty bathroom mirror. The whole notion was foreign to him, but so was everything else right now.

Astarion shifted unhappily in the armchair.

Without his better half, he’d fallen back into assuming that everyone he met wanted something of him. In truth, they usually did. Gold, sex, a little bit of fun - they always wanted something.

So what the devil did this one want?

Couldn’t be sex; she’d made that quite clear despite her obvious attraction. She seemed far too uptight to want anything to do with the kind of fun he was used to. She had to have noticed he had little wealth with him. He never brought his own hard won gold when he’d just pickpocket more along the way.

If it wasn’t one of these things, then what did she want?

Tav would have figured this out already.

Gods, he missed Tav. Astarion closed his eyes against the ache, trying to think about this as Tav might have.

If Jen did what she did to survive their meeting, fair enough. He had been planning to kill her after all. It followed that perhaps she was continuing to help as a survival strategy? Not a bad plan in her position, admittedly.

But he didn’t think Tav would buy that, not after today. No, Tav would tell him that Jen, as far as she could see, actually, truly wanted to help him, and he was in danger of starting to believe it. Certainly after this morning.

It couldn’t be that simple, though. Watching her lead that party around by the nose with an admirable dedication to her own self preservation above all else had been more than enough to convince him she was deceptive and clever.

Astarion breathed out in quiet amusement, remembering how she looked when she was playing her role. He had watched a whole different person emerge. He genuinely liked the person he saw her become for a while. Gods, looking back at it, he’d felt far more comfortable with that version of her because he immediately knew exactly what she was doing; it’s what he would have been doing. Her evil little grin when she admitted she wanted that ring, that the party was not getting it back, it had been delightful.

The amusement melted as he frowned, familiar unwanted emotions bubbling up again.

So. He would have to be careful with this one. He had underestimated her at the start and he still didn’t have a handle on what was truly going on inside her head.

Astarion looked up at Eva, who lay on a shelf, one blue eye always on him.

“Well?” he whispered.

The cat blinked at him and flexed a paw.

Gods damn it all.

He’d arrived at his own conclusion, not the one Tav would have.

Astarion could almost feel Tav’s ghost frowning at him, arms crossed, telling him that some people would care about him, would help him, even if he couldn’t believe it after two hundred years of living a different truth.

Tav would soothe him, let him know that it was natural to be scared, but that it seemed like Jen genuinely wanted to help him. Maybe she would have been right. 

Astarion had come so very far in those decades with Tav, but bereft of her, he found that he struggled to hold onto what he’d learned in the face of the constant, gnawing fear he felt without her there to comfort him.

This morning, when Jen had burst out of sleep into the sitting room like a blood drunk new spawn, he’d been terrified, frankly. He’d had no idea what had gotten into her, was certain it must have been something he did wrong, and was working out if he would be best to accept the punishment that was coming, fight back, or flee.

All that had happened was that she’d chided him for trying his hand at the phone, then given it to him and gotten right down to showing him how it worked.

“Helped you,” he could hear Tav’s echo say.

Astarion looked down to his phone again, tapped the camera, and stared into his own eyes. The unsettling morning mystery of the excitable mud mephit had resolved itself the instant she’d shown him how to access this ‘app’ on his phone.

He had braced himself, knew something of import was about to happen, but in all of his wildest dreams hadn’t even considered what had transpired next. She’d shown him his own face.

His reflection. Not a painting or a statue, as Tav had insisted on getting him as often as she could in their travels to find a cure. His honest to gods reflection.

He’d been so completely caught up in the moment that he’d forgotten to be careful. The euphoria at placing his hand to his cheek, and then seeing his hand on his cheek overtook everything. Inebriated by the joy of watching all of his favorite little poses and expressions, seeing what they actually looked like, how deliciously his eyes could smolder and just how effective his pout was, he had been completely, wholly disarmed. Defenseless.

"And what had Jen done?" asked the ghost of Tav.

Nothing. Nothing bad, that is. She’d simply let him be himself, helped him and laughed with him. He’d come crashing back into his fear and the more palatable numbness, of course, but she’d slipped away to do whatever it was she did today. Buy more gifts for him, apparently.

No, the fact that she’d gotten past his defenses terrified him all over again, enough that he had immediately set about trying to recall everything she had told him the night before, checking it, trying to catch her in a lie. An old part of him needed her to be lying, to be manipulating him, to be woefully familiar.

But, she wasn’t lying and he didn’t think she was trying to manipulate him.

Still. He needed something he could work with. He barely knew where he was or what to do next, besides research. Boring, tedious, necessary work.

Astarion opened the internet and paused, not sure where to start reading. He’d already found and taken in a document dense with local laws. The legal language seemed very much the same as ever, absolutely the most bloviating drivel to say something he could have said in three damn words. He did not have the head for it again tonight.

Perhaps he could look into common scams? How to evade these cameras that seemed to be everywhere? He would need a way to make gold.

Astarion caught movement in his peripheral vision as Eva’s head came up, listening to something, so he paused and listened, too. Jen’s heart rate had started to climb. More than climb.

Eva promptly roused herself and slipped along the shelves, diving into the hollow of the cat tree in the corner, where she crouched, staring out at Jen with alert blue eyes.

Astarion turned his full attention to the sleeper on the couch. It seemed she was dreaming and that it was not a pleasant experience. Jen murmured and twitched, wound tightly in the blanket.

Gods, he'd been there.

He watched completely still, waiting for her nightmare to pass, but when she started whimpering and thrashing, when he heard what she was repeating over and over again, he bit back his uneasiness and stood to wake her.

Notes:

Two notes:
1. Trigger warnings will start to apply in chapter 8, so please heed them.
2. "Bite Night" has been written and is in the editing stage, so it'll be sneaking up on us soon enough. :)

Chapter 8: Don't Leave me there Dreaming

Summary:

All is not well in the night. Astarion surprises the hell out of Jen by doing something quite unexpected.

Trigger warnings for this chapter:
-Brief depiction of car crash (no gory detail)
-Very detailed depiction of a panic attack

8. Don't Leave me there Dreaming

Jen found herself upside down, disoriented, locked into place by something that dug sharply into her chest. She couldn’t see; her eyes stung and it seemed like only one of them was opening. She tried to move, but couldn’t.

That’s when she smelled the gasoline, heard the rumble of thunder outside, felt the bite of metal into her leg, and the slither of blood running… up it?

This is wrong. This is backwards.

A screeching cacophony of noise hit her eardrums causing her to wince twice, once from the sound, and a second time from the pain of wincing. She knew that noise. Hated that earsplitting wail.

What was the noise?

Something new. The smell of smoke. The sound of grinding metal, peeling glass.

Suddenly, there were arms beneath her and the tightness across her chest snapped.

A wave of nausea surged through her and she tried to turn, eyes suddenly clear. She could not. She was restrained, tied down to something stiff. She didn’t want to be tied down. She needed to figure out what was happening.

She rolled her head back and forth, told them to let her up. No one listened. As she felt herself going airborne, she caught sight of another limp body and the panic engulfed her. She started to fight, had to get loose, had to help him. Couldn’t leave him there on the road.

The ground began to shake beneath her as the doors slammed closed.

---

Jen found herself staring up at Astarion. His hand was poised tentatively above her shoulder and he was searching her eyes for signs of wakefulness.

“I think you were having a bad dream,” he said uncertainly. Jen’s face colored and she scrambled to find her voice.

“I’m sorry, I should have thought to warn you about the nightmares. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s no bother.” He was crouched beside the couch, next to her. “Are you alright?”

No.

“I’m fine,” she breathed, tired. Bone tired. Soul tired. Her heart would not stop racing. She frowned.

“Are you… is there someone nearby I can fetch for you?”

“No.”

I’m ok. I’m awake. I-

“I could make you a drink?” he tried.

“Just leave it alone!” Jen snapped, listening horrified as she took her raging emotions out on the nearest target.

“Well. If that’s how you’re going to behave, I will,” Astarion retorted, beginning to stand. But he stopped himself and crouched back down, looking supremely uncomfortable. “I heard what you were whimpering. In your sleep. You’re sure there’s no one I can get for you?”

“My cat,” Jen hiccuped, as the the room began to contract and spin around her.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Not again.

“I…” he began, looking toward the watchful calico in the hollow of the cat tree, “don’t think she’ll let me.”

Jen curled herself into a tight little ball. There was no stopping this. Gods, not again. 

Her breathing was becoming frantic and raspy. Her heart had leapt into her throat and stomach and skull and every single nerve and it was pounding, running, ready to explode at any moment. She began to tremble as a flash of heat prickled across her skin. Her mind, logical thought drowned out by the ravaging adrenaline, shrieked that she was dying, that she couldn’t breath, that her heart was going to burst! Heart attack! Dying! Dying!

“Hells, darling, you are not fine,” she heard before she found herself scooped off of the couch and into a lap. She yelped, but he shushed her, cradling her firmly against his chest and murmuring down to her. “Easy now. I’ve got you.”

Jen’s mind went blank in shock, an ocean of stupefied white noise obliterating all other thought. Astarion’s voice cut through the roar.

“Just breathe, darling. That’s it.”

She focused on it, shaking all over, trying to bring her heart rate back to earth and failing. Gods, she could feel the tears in the corners of her eyes at her own panic, and the mortification of being caught out like this. And her chest hurt so bad.

The world lurched and the room began to spiral again.

No. No no no. Breathe. Listen to him. Breathe.

“That’s right,” he was murmuring. “In, then out.”

She listened to the cadence of his voice and sought to match her shaky breaths to it. That initial burst of adrenaline evaporated suddenly, and she felt as though she couldn’t keep her head up any longer.

When she felt tears on her cheeks, she knew she didn’t want to. She had to hide.

Jen turned and buried her face in the robe she’d bought him earlier, teeth chattering as she smooshed her face against him.

She felt him shift and she started to pull away, knowing she’d just fucked up, but her doubt fled as she felt gentle fingers brushing her hair back behind her ear and nudging her back against him. She continued to breathe.

In. Out.

That’s right. In. Out. Slower.

The chest pain abated slowly, never fully vanishing, but lessening its grip on her. She began to notice the world around her again, the hum of the fridge, her clammy skin, the wonderful cool, solid softness she’d nuzzled into.

That particular sensation jumped her mind into gear again.

Part of her, the ever forward-thinking, never silent part, started to stir, telling her to pull back. Get back in control. This was dangerous. Where were the walls? Put the walls back, now.

She tried to say something to start this process, but it just came out as a muffled sound.

“It’s alright,” he said, shushing her.

Not alright. NOT alright. Can’t be close. Can’t.

“Easy, darling, you’re getting worked up again.”

Astarion squeezed her tighter and her frantic train of thought simply popped like a spent bubble. He was right. She needed to calm the hell down. Calm. Calm first. Problem second.

Jen gave up resisting with a sigh and simply let him hold her, listening as he kept saying things she couldn’t understand. She closed her eyes and sank into the calm, cool dark, let herself go, let herself float there, anchored to his voice.

It took some time before she realized her breathing was coming naturally again, that her eyes were sore, but no longer leaking. Her chest pain was gone now. She stirred.

“Well, we’ve got your heart back down to a reasonable rate, at least,” Astarion muttered, loosening his embrace as he felt he move.

Jen could feel herself roaring back into her own mind again as the questions started to burst through.

What had he heard?

“What did I say?” she asked softly, looking up tentatively.

Astarion looked down at her, face solemn. And pained, she realized with a pang.

“‘Don’t leave me alone,’” he breathed, looking away. “You kept saying it over and over. I… couldn’t hear it again.”

She didn’t know what to say to him in the silence that followed, so she said nothing for a time. Everything was so surreal right now. The nightmare was just like all the others, but this second half, was this real?

Yes.

Yes, it was, and she was too scared to move, afraid doing so would break reality. And what the hells should she even say to Astarion about this debacle?

“Thank you,” she whispered, deciding finally, “for waking me. And for…”

She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder into the room, uncomfortably aware now that she was still being cradled in his lap. Touching him. She couldn’t finish the sentence. He nodded distractedly, still looking out the windows into the screened porch, holding her against him, unmoving.

Jen had no idea how to proceed. She was back in control now, but gods, was she? She felt so comfortable. She let her cheek fall against his chest again, the faint smell of him distinct as she inhaled, just resting in the calm quiet of the night.

She missed this more than she knew, she realized. Just having someone close, to step in and help when she couldn’t help herself, and he was so soothing, so comforting.

Surely she could just stay like this a bit longer?

No.

No, she couldn’t.

She could not do this. She could not get attached to this man. He was passing through, and if she hadn’t suspected it before, she was sure of it now: it would tear the final few scraps of her to ribbons when he inevitably disappeared.

Jen swallowed the heartbroken noise that threatened to escape and spoke up again, quietly.

“I think I’m ok now, if you want to put me down…”

The sound of her voice seemed to break the spell that had taken hold of him this time.

“Of course,” he said, sliding her down next to him and helping her sit up, hand gentle against her back. He was watching her rather more closely than she was comfortable with again. He cleared his throat.

“I can stay,” he offered, “if it would help?”

So many pieces of her shouted yes that it was all she could do to hide behind the firm ‘no’ her mind reflexively countered with. Before she could respond with a polite no thank you, Astarion had stood up. He’d seen something that had driven him away, she realized with another stab of sadness.

“Sweet dreams, this time,” he murmured. “You will show me this game of yours tomorrow, yes?”

“Of course,” she breathed. “Tomorrow.”

Astarion melted into the shadows so naturally that Jen began to question if he’d ever been there at all. The soft click of the bedroom door closing, however, reassured her that he had been.

She let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She was really going to have to learn how to breathe around him.

Fuck.

And figure out how to keep from falling hopelessly head over heels for him. She had to get him sorted, get him wherever the hell he was trying to go. She had to get him out of here before this destroyed her all over again.

It was her damn curse. Everyone was gone far too soon. He would be, too, but she started to fear that it wouldn’t be soon enough.

Notes:

Short chapter but a pretty charged one. Next one is longer and not quite as anxiety inducing.

Chapter 9: Chronic Conditions

Summary:

The dice rolled poorly for the day, Jen is resigned to discover, but her struggles lead to an unexpected moment of understanding with her guest.

Trigger warnings:
-Migraine (not certain this one needs a warning, tbh, but it's here in case you'd rather not read the nitty gritty of chronic, severe migraine)
-Brief, sarcastic mention of suicide

9. Chronic Conditions

The pounding in her skull woke her again. The pounding and the pain, radiating out and consuming all other feeling, waking the sadness and frustration alongside her this morning.

This again.

A furry head pushed itself into her limp hand as it dangled off of the couch. She grimaced, bracing herself for what followed. Movement.

“I know Wabbs,” she whispered. “Give mom a minute.”

Jen turned her head, eyes squinted shut against even the dim light of the pre-dawn living room. Her stomach swirled in response and the pain throbbing behind her right eye doubled, causing her to hiss and grit her teeth.

You have to feed the cats.

Gods, the smell of the food. She swallowed rising bile at the thought alone.

Little paws tread across her back.

“I know, Ony, I know.”

Jen braced herself with a scowl and pushed herself upright, stopping to give the room time to hold the fuck still. Her limbs felt empty, like muscle had been replaced with air. Or lead.

Come on. The kitchen is right there. Feed them and collapse in bed.

She dragged her sorry ass into the kitchen, grimacing and holding her breath as she picked up the cat dishes from their respective spots. That was the easy part of the task. The hard part was peeling open the stupid little plastic snap containers.

She spent a moment, or maybe a full minute, she had no clue, wrestling with the stubborn glue that kept the foil lids in place before giving up and finding the nearest knife to stab the stupid things open.

This, of course, got the nausea inducing cat slop all over everything, but they had to eat, so she had to deal. She let the plates fall into their respective feeding spots and rinsed her hands in the sink quickly, trying to ignore the stink and the queasy feeling radiating through her.

Bed. Get to bed. Meds on nightstand.

Jen left the cats be, not even policing Wabbs, a veritable shovel face who’d scarf his down and move in on his sisters’ meals after. She closed her eyes and stood still a moment longer torn between the pain of moving and the nausea of lingering kitchen smells. The smell aversion overcame the pain aversion and she fled on weak legs to the safety of the bedroom.

She opened the door and froze as she realized her bed was currently occupied by a lounging figure scrolling through a phone.

Fuck. Astarion.

She’d been so hyperfocused on getting through the first five minutes of the day that she’d forgotten she had ceded her bedroom to Astarion.

“Out please,” she whispered, not waiting for him to respond.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

He sighed in annoyance.

“If you’re looking to be held again, you don’t have to be dramatic about it.”

“Not that. Just need rest. And ice pack.”

“Ice pick?” he asked, a bit worried as he began to slide off of the bed.

“Ice pack.” Though honestly, an ice pick might have worked, too. She could Volo her eye out and maybe the pain would lessen.

“A what?”

Damn it.

She did not have the energy or the focus or the patience for him. She barely had enough of it to figure out how to get up into her own damn bed.

“Urgh. Forget it.”

“Are you alright?”

“Do I-”

Jen abruptly stopped talking, closing her mouth and fighting the sudden tidal wave of nausea. She was going to lose the fight this time.

“Move,” she hissed, suddenly scrambling through blistering pain to get to the bathroom. Astarion swung himself out of her way as she stumbled past.

She toppled onto the bath mat and emptied a stomach full of nothing into the toilet.

Astarion stuck his head in the bathroom.

“Is this, er, whatever you’ve got, contagious?”

“No,” she moaned, head resting on her arms as she hugged the toilet bowl. “Let me… puke alone… please .”

“Gladly.” He paused. “I take it there will be no playing of games today?”

“OUT,” she ordered, swallowing against another threatening spasm. She spat vomit flecked spittle into the bowl and flushed it, holding onto the toilet, weighing her options.

Option one: Stay right here by the safety of the toilet, no moving, cool porcelain, darkness. But no end in sight.

Option two: Get the damn meds from across the room. Pain, nausea, but eventual relief. Maybe.

Or… 

Ask for help.

Jen swallowed as the argument with herself began. She did not need to drag Astarion into this. 

But he’d helped last night.

All the more reason to leave him be. He had shit to do.

Like what? What exactly? Preening?

Yes. Leave him be.

Maybe he could just bring her an ice pack and meds.

Jen sighed.

She did not like this idea. She had to be able to take care of herself. She could take care of herself. She just had to suck it up and get the hell up and wade through nausea and fight with the stupid pill bottle and stumble to the toilet to puke again and find the water bottle and fill the water bottle and fight the kitchen smells to get the ice pack from the freezer and-

“Hey Astarion?” she asked, voice small.

“Hm?” came the response from the bedroom.

“Need my meds,” she mumbled as the lighting in the bathroom dimmed from the figure in the doorway.

“Your what?”

“Medicine. Please. Nightstand.”

“Is this contagious?” he asked urgently.

“No,” she hissed.

Jen took a gulp of air, pushing nausea down and ignoring the tears in the corners of her eyes as the movement of the struggle against her rebelling stomach sent stars across her vision.

“Please.”

“I- alright. What’s it look like?”

“Orange bottle.”

Jen’s hair stood on end for a moment as she shifted, testing if she could leave the toilet behind yet. The answer to that was a resounding no.

Gods, I am a fucking disaster. Great day to be a waste of space again.

“You’re sure this isn’t contagious?”

“Medicine.”

“Relax. It’s right here.”

Jen heard the rattle of the pills as he tossed the plastic bottle into the bathroom, not daring to get close. She groped for it blindly, head still bowed. Her stomach must have realized that there was nothing inside to be gotten rid of because the nausea began to take back seat to the pounding pain in her skull once more. Gathering herself with a sigh, Jen leaned back from the toilet and took the pill bottle in hand.

“Ice pack,” she said to the shadow in the door. “Freezer, under fridge, blue cold thing. Like a mask.”

The shadow vanished with an irritated sigh before reappearing after a minute or two.

“This?”

She grunted in affirmation and the ice pack landed next to her. She ripped the velcro apart and pulled the pack as tightly around her head as she could, fastening it back together.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Sick.”

“Yes, obviously.”

Jen ignored him and dragged herself up to the sink to fill a disposable cup with water before taking a few cautious steps out of the bathroom into the bedroom. She rested with her hand on the dresser, placing the cup of water down.

Damn pill bottle was back on the bathroom counter. She retreated through waves of pain bad enough that she had to blur her vision to move through them, returning with the bottle and sliding down onto the floor to open it.

Jen pushed the lid and tried to turn it but her hands and fingers refused to cooperate. She couldn’t get a good grip on the lid, and when she did muster up enough dexterity to hang on to it, she couldn’t find the strength to push down at the same time. She closed her eyes, setting her teeth against the damn throbbing behind her eye that she needed to open this stupid bottle to fix.

“You’re in pain.”

“Yes, captain obvious, thanks,” she snapped, frustration boiling over. “Quite a bit. And I can’t get this stupid bottle open.”

She chucked it across the room and collapsed her head down onto her knees again, trembling as she fought off the frustrated tears because they’d only make it hurt even worse than it already did.

“Let me help you,” he said softly.

“Why?” Jen could not keep the suspicion out of her voice. She checked her tone and tried again. “Don’t need it.”

He scoffed at her.

“Darling, if you had to defend yourself against anything right now-”

“What, like a fucking vampire,” she spat.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead, my dear.”

“Reassuring.”

Astarion sighed and sat down on the floor across from her.

“I understand that you’re upset because you’re in pain, but am I trying to help you. What is going on? Tell me.”

“I told you already. I’m a disaster. Just go poke your phone or something. Please.”

Her eyes were closed tightly against pain and tears, but she heard the rustle of his clothes before silence returned.

Thank fuck. Now I just need to breathe then find the stupid bottle my idiot ass yeeted across this fucking room.

His voice broke in.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Mother fucker…

Jen opened her eyes and blinked. Astarion was sitting in front of her once more, holding the open pill bottle out. His face was set in stubborn lines as he scrutinized her. Her resolve caved at last.

She fished a white pill out of the bottle mutely before looking up at the water, perched impossibly high atop the dresser. The tilting of her head assailed her with waves of dizziness that threatened to wake the nausea all over again.

Astarion stood, grabbed the cup, sat back in front of her, and handed it to her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Neurological disorder.”

“Neurologic- this better not be brain worms!”

Jen snorted and then winced in pain.

“I wish a fucking worm would eat my brain. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Believe me, darling, you don’t.”

She said nothing, focused on holding the pill down in her empty, roiling stomach. Astarion sat patiently across from her, just sitting and waiting.

“Can you help me onto the bed,” she asked finally. “It’s a long way up right now.”

Astarion stood up and held his hand down to her. She looked at it, head hazy with pain, world snowed in around her and realized something as she stared at it. She’d not actually touched him yet, not initiated it. He’d held her last night, but she’d been a passenger. Now, she was going to have to pick between feeling vulnerable and feeling pain.

The moment would have given her more pause if it wasn't for the incessant, demanding pounding behind her eye.

She reached up and grabbed his wrist, knowing she wouldn’t be able to maintain her grip on his hand. Astarion’s hand closed around her own wrist and he hoisted her gently to her feet.

Gods, his skin feels so good right now, like an ice pack in human form, she mused, flashing back to snuggling against him last night.

No. Absolutely not. The normal ice pack is plenty.

She swam through the swirling and the pain and leaned against the edge of the bed.

“Just give me an extra push and I should manage,” she muttered.

He obliged and she found herself finally atop her big, comfy mattress. The sheets lay wrinkled from where he must have rested the night before, and her heart lurched at the thought for a moment before she was forced to focus on the nausea and keeping the pill down again.

“Do you need me to stay?” Astarion asked.

“No. Just need sleep. Until the pill kicks in. Few hours. I hope.”

“Hours?” he asked.

She didn’t know whether the desire to laugh or cry at his reaction hit her strongest. Hours was nothing compared to the days it could be sometimes. She nestled under the sheet, skin burning up, but knowing that without some kind of covering she’d never fall asleep.

“Should I open your curtains?”

“No!” she hissed in panic. “No light! Dark, quiet. Please.”

“Alright,” he said defensively, and she heard his voice moving toward the bedroom door. “This isn’t, er, deadly is it?”

“No.”

Not beyond tempting her overwrought brain to end it sometimes, anyway.

“Just need sleep,” she said again, sinking into the feeling of the ice pack around her skull, focusing on its coolness and praying the pain relief would start soon. Neither she nor Astarion said anything else. In truth, she didn’t even know if he’d left or not, but there really wasn’t anywhere to sit in the bedroom so she assumed he had.

She did hear him check in on her, though, several hours later as she was drifting back into consciousness for the dozenth time. Eva lay atop her purring, as the furry little angel usually did when she was in a bad way. The cat shifted with a baleful meow as Jen tested her current state by moving a little. The pain had faded to a dull ache that she could mostly ignore as long as she stayed still and kept the lighting to a minimum.

“Hey,” she said, trying to catch Astarion's attention.

“I hope I didn’t disturb your rest,” he responded. “I just wanted to make sure, well, that you were still with us.”

“Thanks,” she said, sliding upright and pulling the now far too warm ice pack off of her skull. “Hey, I’m sorry I was such a bitch. I just…”

“It’s alright. You were not yourself.”

“No,” she said, struck by the accuracy of the observation. The pain had a tendency to bring the worst in her out in force. She cleared her throat as he watched her from his perch against the foot of the bed.

“Migraine. It’s called a migraine and I have the chronic kind. I wake up and the dice roll. Every day. They weren’t always like this but-”

She stopped talking. She was not going near that topic today, not after last night. Not in this state.

“Can’t a healer sort you out?”

She met his eyes, tired and sad.

“No more than they can sort out your vampirism, my friend.” He fell silent, searching her face, for what she knew not. “I just have to live with it. Honestly, you’d probably understand my symptoms better than most.”

He frowned, but she could read the curiosity in his gaze. Comparing her medical condition to vampirism had been a longstanding amusement and weird comfort to her. It made her feel a little more like a badass and less like a poor, disabled unfortunate.

“I imagine your hunger probably feels similar. Constantly there in the background, lurking. The stronger it gets, the worse the pain and the weaker you get. The longer it goes on, the more you lose any ability to do anything but suffer through it with no fucking end in sight. The more you feel you’re losing yourself entirely to it.”

“That’s… not inaccurate,” he said, lines of his face softening. Jen tried to lighten her voice a little.

“Also, I can’t get my own body temperature regulated; I burn up instead of freeze though. Can’t manage to eat a damn thing without it coming right back up, save water for me. Blood for you, of course. Not to mention the light sensitivity, gods. My senses are all ramped straight up to superhuman levels, but light? Light is made of pain as far as I’m concerned.”

She faltered, her attempt at lightheartedness fading into sadness.

“But even after the pain is gone, my brain is just… not fully there. The frustration of being slow and dull - that wears me down more than anything. So if I'm a bit off today, that's why.”

Jen had stopped talking in the face of Astarion’s silence. He was looking into the distance from the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I-” he began. “Yes. I just-”

Jen let him work out what he was trying to say in silence, slipping the ice pack back down and crushing it into her right eye socket despite knowing there was no more soothing cold to be had from it currently.

“We’re more similar than I thought,” Astarion said finally, voice a mirror of her own sadness. “You just don’t feel right, don’t feel like yourself. You’ve got this other thing inside you that you learn to live with but can never really be free of.”

“Except for flashes of clarity when you’re lucky,” she sighed, the grim weight of her situation resting heavily on her words.

“Yes,” he agreed. They looked at each other with mild surprise and Jen felt an understanding pass between them in that moment, the understanding of a burden that they somehow unexpectedly shared. She gave him a sad smile, which he returned. He spoke again, voice drawn back to a pleasant baseline. “Can I get you anything else, my dear?”

“I’m ok for now. I’ll probably stagger out to my PC before much longer. It gets ungodly boring being stuck like this all day and the boredom outweighs the pain past a point. Plus, I promised to show you your game.”

“Doesn’t it though,” he said with a snort. “Take your time. I’m more than capable of biding mine.”

Notes:

Closing in on that 48 hr mark and Jen is still alive and kicking, defying her initial estimation!

Things start getting lighter again next chapter - for a time. :)

Side note, I have long been convinced that chronic migraines and vampirism overlap WAY more than they should symptoms/effects wise. I couldn't not include it as a result.

Chapter 10: Game Time

Summary:

Astarion and Jen begin a Baldur's Gate III campaign. Jen wanted him to play his own file. He wanted to watch her play a file. They 'compromised' on a joint file. Jen is not sure she got much out of this compromise.

10. Game Time

“Where is Tav?”

“Huh?” Jen asked, pulling off her headphones.

“I don’t see Tav.”

Spinning the chair around, she saw that he was still on the character select screen of Baldur’s Gate III.

“Oh,” she said, comprehension dawning. “That’s because you have to make Tav. Tav isn’t one of the origin characters.”

Jen stood with a grimace and crossed the room to stand beside his chair.

“You make Tav whatever you want. See, you build your own character with these.” She clicked the mouse on a few of the options for race in turn, drow, elf, half elf, and grinned as she intentionally left it on gnome. “Then you customize the appearance.”

“Tav is not a gnome,” Astarion bristled, taking the mouse back from her. She let him snatch it with a smile.

He was an extremely quick learner, which really should not have come as a surprise, she supposed. It had taken him very little time to figure out the basics of the mouse, though he was a hunt and peck typist at the moment, which, while obviously understandable, made Jen want to strangle him.

“So anyone can just make Tav whatever they want?”

“Pretty much.”

“But the rest of us are stuck as we are.”

“I mean, for now, yes. It must seem really weird but trust me, it works. You could play as yourself, but then you won’t really see how you’re acting in the game.”

“If I play as myself, does Tav come with?”

“There’s no Tav at all if you play as you.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

Jen briefly debated telling him about mods but figured it may be best to let him get the hang of the stand alone game first.

“So play as Tav,” she urged him. “That’s how the story was written to be experienced.”

“Alright, fine.”

She felt herself grin as he settled on an elf, her own most used race, and started clicking through appearance options.

“Elf, huh?”

“Are you going to just stand there commenting on everything I do?”

“You’re the one who asked me to turn around and help,” she grumbled back at him.

“Well, I’m fine now, thank you.”

Jen let it drop, returning back to her own computer and trying to remember where exactly she was in her current single player run.

“Although…” she heard from behind her, followed by a small throat clear. Jen risked a glance over her shoulder. Astarion had turned his attention to her screen now instead of his own.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I could just watch you play, darling.”

“HA,” she blurted out. She did not want him watching her play. She did not need him taking any notes, or getting any ideas, or anything else remotely similar, and this was quite obviously his intent.

“I’m not at the beginning,” she explained. “Can’t drop you into the middle of things.”

“I already know the story, my dear,” he replied, waving her concern off.

“Yes, but I thought you wanted to see how it was being told. To see if it was true to life.”

She smiled as he narrowed his eyes, conflicted. He had two different curiosities at odds with each other right now: how did she interact with him and how truly was this tale told. Jen needed that second one to win out.

“I’ll tell you what. We can play it together if you’d prefer.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. Just make your Tav and tell me which of the others you want me to play as.” She continued speaking as he mulled this over. “My preference would probably be Karlach, but I haven’t played as Lae’zel or Shadowheart yet either.”

“Or,” he countered, focusing back on her suddenly, “you can be Tav and I can play as one of the others.”

“I don’t know. I thought the idea was to see how things matched up. Not sure that’ll work if I’m playing Tav.”

They eyed each other for a moment.

“Why not?” he asked, a small pout starting to form on his lips. “Tav will still be there. And then I can see how you learned the story.”

Which is entirely what I don’t want you to do, damn it.

Her interaction with it wasn't the bit he needed to focus on. The overall story was, as objectively as possible.

“I don’t play Tav any more. I play the Dark Urge, usually.”

“I don’t know what that is, but surely you can make an exception this one time.”

“If I’m Tav, then who are you going to be? If you pick yourself, you’ll miss basically all of the bits they wrote about you.”

“Oh, I can be Karlach, instead. That could be quite fun, actually. She and I got on quite well.”

He was looking at her with a smirk now.

“What do you say, darling? Any other objections I need to put to rest?”

Jen tried, really tried, to come up with something else plausible other than ‘I don’t want you to watch me play this because I know you're taking notes.’ Then again, she was assuming that Astarion and Tav had been the romantic pair when that may well not have been the case.

“I am going to need to know one thing before going into this, I think, to guide this along similar to what would have happened. Who’d Tav get, er, involved with, if anyone?”

“Me, of course,” he scoffed, chin in the air, hand touching his chest. “She had some options, of course, but I mean, none that could truly compete with this.”

Yeeeeeeeah. No thanks. Nope. 

“Then you should play Tav,” she stated.

“What? Why!”

“Because you know how that actually played out. I’d just have to spitball it.”

He laughed and waved a hand.

“As long as it happens, I’m sure it will be close enough.”

They stared at each other again before Astarion broke the silence with a sly smirk.

“Out of ideas yet?”

“You don’t want to romance yourself?” she countered, exaggerating the phrase to try to make it sound as hilariously fun as she could.

“Oh, I would much rather watch you do it.”

Of course he would.

Jen scowled and turned her chair back to her screen in unspoken defeat before asking another crucial question.

“What class was Tav?”

“Class?”

“Uh, what was she? Like a druid or a cleric or?”

“Oh no, a bard, mostly, though she did pick up a trick or two from her, ahem, acquaintances along the way.”

“Well shit, maybe I should just reboot my first fucking file if that’s the case,” Jen muttered before she thought about the implications of this statement. Astarion had not missed them.

“Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea! I can see how you handled… this story with no prior knowledge.”

“I am going to crush you under a githyanki creche for this,” she told him flatly.

“And I am sure I will excoriate you most thoroughly for it,” he sneered back. “Gods, even that?”

This was another brilliantly bad idea, and she was going to, once again, do it anyway because a dreadfully pretty elf was sitting behind her, egging her on. She scrolled to the bottom of her extensive file list and looked at the original playthrough. And the second playthrough. And the third. They had all been slight variations on the same character.

“Look, I’ll remake this first one real quick. Lord knows I’ve made a bard a billion times already. Then I’ll get you invited and we’ll play through it together.”

“Excellent, darling! What did you make Tav, by the by?”

“An elf of course.” She glared at him. “Why would you pick a lesser race when you could be a haughty bastard instead?”

Astarion flashed her a grin.

“Guilty as charged.”

Jen made her original bard for the fourth time, changing only the appearance. She kept the character as an elf, but hit randomize a few times to get some ideas for a new look. Once she had something workably ‘bard-like,’ she started fine tuning it to her tastes, thinking for a moment how it would be best to play this file through with him. The whole origin character had been a suggestion for simplicity’s sake. If he picked any of them he’d miss out on the associated story and acting, which was always the best part.

“Hey, go ahead and make your own character. We can just add you to the party and you can watch everyone’s story play out that way. If you pick Karlach, you’ll miss some of the best bits they wrote about her.”

“Alright…” he said, unsure.

“I’m not trying to wiggle out of anything with this suggestion. It seriously is probably the best way for you to get the story as they wrote it. And one other thing. Did you guys travel all together and fight all together or was it like, half of you fighting while half kept back at camp?”

“Why in the hells would half stay at camp?” he asked, mystified.

Welp, that answered that.

“To make the game more challenging in our case, but no, it wouldn’t really make sense if this were actually happening. Make your elf or whatever you’re making while I get some more stuff set up.”

She went back through her mod manager and found the party limit mod. It wouldn’t really change much aside from unlock a whole lot more banter as they were all out and about, plus, if he was going to be playing she may need a few extra characters to control until he got the hang of combat.

Despite her reservations about romancing digital Astarion in front of actual Astarion, this whole plan was starting to become a bit exciting. She’d not been able to drag someone new into the game in a long while now, and she loved watching people get to experience it for the first time, trying to guess when they’d truly be hooked - or what ridiculous decisions they’d make and end up regretting ten seconds later. She had a feeling that there would be quite a few of those in her near future, especially given her partner in crime’s identity.

Astarion might be cautious when his life was on the line, but when it was a whole sandbox of a world that he could just bend to his whim?

It might shape up to be pretty entertaining, once she got over the idea of romancing him under his watchful scrutiny, anyway. She felt the uneasiness at this prospect crawl out of her soul and settle across her features before she caught herself.

Own it.

She was owning this. He already knew, remember? Own it.

Jen found herself massaging a hand nervously and risked a glance back to see where Astarion was in his character creation process.

She was somewhat surprised to see he’d chosen a Drow. He was currently clicking on classes.

“The ones that aren’t already in the party are-”

He scoffed at her.

“I am well aware of what our talents were, my dear.”

Of course. Astarion eyed the screen thoughtfully, clicking a few options in sequence before settling on one.

“Sorcerer could be fun. I wouldn't mind having that kind of raw power and control over magic.”

“Then pick sorc. You still have to pick spells and stats. I’m going to let you figure that out on your own while I make myself some tea. You can change it later if you need to so don’t worry about making the wrong choice. Just pick something fun.”

Jen retreated to the kitchen and debated cooking herself dinner while she was there. Her body likely needed more calories than she’d been able to force it to accept so far today, and her stomach seemed to have settled. Then there was the fact that she’d forgotten just how much damn time it took complete newbies to simply get through character creation. She pulled a frozen mac and cheese meal out and popped it in the microwave while she set her tea kettle to 192 degrees for some turmeric ginger herbal tea.

How should I play this run with him?

She’d probably curate it a bit, making sure they didn’t miss any major plot points like she had on her first run. She’d not even realized you could cure the shadow curse until an upset druid stayed behind as the party marched off toward the city to start act three.

Aside from a few gaps in her knowledge, though, she’d probably try to stay true to Bard-Tav’s motivations and decisions if that was what interested him, and it seemed to be. She was well aware he was doing it to dig up any advantage he could where she was concerned, but given his circumstances, she’d let it slide. He also wasn't likely to learn much he couldn’t already sus out. But, then again, he’d never know the difference if she just chose differently once in a while...

Of course, she realized, taking the kettle off and letting the loose leaf tea soak in the mug of hot water, Astarion could always derail it, too. If she was lucky, maybe he would get so involved that his actions took point instead of hers, even if they were nominally following her Tav.

That would actually let her off the hook almost entirely. Interesting thought, that.

The microwave brought her attention back to the present as she retrieved her carb heavy meal, a must in the depths of a migraine hangover, and brought it back to her desk.

Astarion looked to be putting some final touches on his dream guardian, a high elf who looked not dissimilar to himself, though she had silver-gold eyes instead of his ruby red beauties.

“Who’s that?” Jen asked.

“Well, not to spoil the surprise, but would you believe that’s Balduran?”

Jen snorted and walked over to verify his mod list matched hers before settling in front of her meal and tea, spinning around to look at Astarion.

“Well, my friend, you ready for this?”

“I suppose I am,” he said, sparing a quick glance back at her.

“Then let’s get to it.”

She readied her character and sat back to watch the introduction. It had been a long while since she’d seen it; generally, she’d skip right through the cinematic since she knew what happened, but there was something exciting about actually slowing down and watching the whole thing through again. She spun her chair with a snort as she heard Astarion’s first reaction behind her.

“That’s right! Leave you tentacled freak! When I get out of this damn pod, I swear you’ll be joining your friends littering the ground!”

Oh yeah. This was gonna be entertaining.

“They must have had some kind of scrying device, er, camera to see all this? Bird familiar, perhaps?”

“Again, no magic, Astarion. No scrying, no familiars. This is animated, created like a moving painting to tell the story. Someone basically drew this with a computer and now you get to watch it. There’s a bit more to it than-”

He motioned for her to be quiet as a ship tentacle curled around a watchtower, sending it crumbling to ruin. Tentacles snaked through shadowed allies, selecting fleeing figures at random, transporting them straight into the waiting pods.

Jen watched Astarion as he shifted in the chair, letting go of the mouse and sneering at the images flashing by on the screen. She heard the suppressed tension in his voice as he spoke up.

“Well, the artist got that right. One moment I was slipping through shadows, dodging rubble, and the next, I was trapped in that accursed pod. In Baldur’s Gate, of course, not-”

“That’s right! Bite it to shreds! RIP ITS TENTACLE OFF, ahahahahah!”

Jen choked down her mac and cheese at his absolute over the top reaction as the dragons tore into the nautiloid. He was leaning forward, right up on the screen, almost like he was trying to look through the damn thing for a better view. Not unlike when she left videos on for her cats, she realized with a grin.

“Oh this is wonderful! I didn't get to see any of this first hand!”

He watched, rapt, as the nautiloid tore through the sky, beset by a cohort of red dragons and their githyanki riders. Jen, in turn, watched him, as fascinated by his reactions as he was by the drama on display. She noted the way he recoiled in disgust every time a mind flayer appeared, the way he leaned out of the way of the collapsing rock and ice, his gasp as he recognized a familiar face.

“Hello, Lae’zel,” he said, voice cheery, as she appeared on screen, struggling in her pod. “Stuck, are you? Yes, that’s close enough to recognize her at least. Gods, that blasted nautiloid is slippery, vaulting through the planes like that…”

He shied away from the screen as the red dragon leaned in, preparing to unleash its fiery breath on the tadpole pool within. Astarion fell quiet as the screen dimmed for a moment, but started right back with the commentary as the scene changed, much to Jen’s pleasure.

“Ah, yes. Avernus. I can almost smell it through the screen. Oh. What are those? Gods, there are hundreds of them! Well that certainly doesn’t look good… Wait. What just happened?” he asked, spinning toward Jen.

“Relax,” she laughed. “Loading screen. The game is loading up. That was just the opening cinematic.”

“Cinematic?”

“Movie.”

“Movie?”

“Moving picture.”

“Oh, yes. Alright.”

Jen spun her finger in a circle, indicating that he should turn back to the computer. The screen had loaded in.

“This is probably going to take you a little to get the hang of. You can move your character by clicking where you want him to go. You can either let the camera follow your character or pan it around with your keyboard.”

‘Tavstarion’ ran in circles around the tadpole pool before she heard a quiet exclamation behind her. He’d clicked on it by accident.

“What do I pick?”

“Whatever you want to. If it has a word in capital letters, then you can click it and try to do the action it says.”

He chose to investigate, making a noise of understanding as the tutorial about skill checks popped up and he read it through. She watched as his drow got launched across her screen shortly afterward.

“Had to touch it, didn’t you?”

“Damn thing,” he muttered.

“See how your mouse hand changes to a cogwheel? That means you can interact with whatever you’re hovering over. That’s what you accidentally did on the pool to trigger all that. Now, as I was saying about your camera, you can pan it around by using your keyboard. W goes forward, S goes backward, A goes left, and D goes right. Q and E will rotate it.”

“Urgh,” he mumbled as the screen detached itself and slid away from his character.

“Yeah, it’ll take a minute to get used to, but you can always get back to following yourself by clicking your portrait twice in rapid succession, double clicking it.”

“Ah, that’s what that means.”

“Mmhm. For now, just follow me. We’ve got to go explore the ship a bit.”

“What is that?” he asked suddenly on edge as they walked into the second room. Jen grinned as ‘Us’ called out to them.

“Dunno, but we should probably find it,” she replied, keeping her tone serious.

“I’m not sure we should go looking for whatever that is, darling. We’re on an illithid ship.”

Jen took the elevator up to the second floor, walking over to free ‘Us’ from its skull prison.

“So when I start a cutscene, like you did with that pool, you can listen in to what my Tav is doing by clicking on that ear icon. You can pick a dialogue choice and it will show me which one you vote for, though I get to choose, ultimately.”

“You could have made your Tav look like anything, and you chose that?”

“I was in a hurry. I’ve also done it a billion times so this is just as good as the next. You’re lucky I didn’t pick gnome just to spite you.”

“Tav was an elf.”

“And I made her another damn elf, just for you. Can we get back to it, or do you have any other pressing critiques about my character that you simply must air first?”

He hmphed at her and looked at the options, realizing exactly what she’d done.

“Why did you talk to it?” The pure disgust lacing his voice struck Jen as surprisingly genuine. He was really not one for body horror, it seemed, and she almost mentioned it out loud before she snapped her mouth shut.

No fucking shit he isn’t. He’s had enough of that for a thousand lifetimes between enslavement and tadpoles.

“Don’t free it,” he yelped, exasperated as Jen opted for the dex check.

“Well, good news for you: I failed the roll. It’s staying stuck.”

It was a shame. Jen was fond of Us, and had considered adding him to the crochet collection more than once.

“Ready to press on?”

“Yes, if you’ll stop freeing illithid slaves while I’ve got my back turned.”

“Fine. I’ll wait til you’re right up there with me.”

“Wretch,” he growled before drawing back in surprise as they shifted into another cutscene. “Lae’zel!”

She chuckled as he realized it was another cinematic.

“When they interrupt you, it’s a cutscene, so if I say cutscene at any point, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Understood,” he said. The combat tutorial had popped up as she moved ahead soon after, explaining turns, combat actions, and how to end your turn.

“Don’t forget you can move your camera around to see what’s going on around you,” she added. “Those little icons at the bottom of the screen, those are the things you can do with your actions. You’ll probably just use your cantrips for now, which will all show up in one place if you click that blue box.”

He murmured his understanding and she saw a firebolt launch across the screen at an imp.

“Why is there a little chest now?”

“Because you killed it and you can loot it. Chest icon means you can loot it.”

“Well then what have you got, you little fiend?” he asked the computer screen. “Gods, they really did make this whole thing look disgustingly real, didn’t they?”

“Yes?” she asked back, wondering what had triggered that question. He must have heard her confusion. 

“The walls are pulsing. Thank the gods you can’t smell any of this. I assure you, it was not pleasant. Like wading through a sea of tenday-old viscera.”

“I mean, it is pretty much that, but even older, right?”

He shook himself out again with a disgusted shudder. She was really starting to look forward to the jump scare coming up in the pod ahead, especially because she was getting the sense that he’d not be able to resist pushing buttons when he found them.

“Click the mesh to climb. Oh, and you can jump, too, by clicking on the jump icon or using the Z key.”

“Door icon must open a door,” he said, catching on.

“Or in this case, a sphincter.”

She bit back a laugh at the disgusted noise behind her again. It was so hard not to laugh at it, even with the nagging guilt of having a strong theory why this was so viscerally repulsive for him.

“Push?” he asked as soon as they stepped into the room. “Ah. I appear to have made them angry. Oh! Shadowheart! Hello!”

“Ok, killing cultists first, chatting with Shart after,” she said, stabbing an enemy with her rapier. It was starting to feel like she was trying to herd a damn cat. 

“Yes, yes, fine.”

They quickly mopped up the pair of cultists, but before Jen could click on Shadowheart’s pod, Astarion already had, which was completely fine by her. It meant that she could just let him take the lead and not worry about having to drive the plot.

“Ah, what do I say to free her?” came the query behind her.

“We have to go get a rune. But if you'd-”

She shut her mouth, catching herself in time.

“Where is this rune, then?”

“Next room.”

“Gods above!” he exclaimed as they walked in. “That’s where my pod was! I saw Tav on the ship there! There! In that corner there! Can we free me?”

“Not at this point,” Jen responded, barely getting her words out before he was off once more.

“What’s this one do?” he asked, touching The Button. Jen grinned and clicked the ear so that she could watch him pick an option.

Are you really going to let him do this, she scolded herself.

Yes. Yes she was. It was a game and if he had a breakdown they’d shut it down and she’d talk him down and maybe she wouldn't have to play it with him after all. He could Google the story and that would be that. The cutscene began and she turned to watch him.

“What- what did I just do? EURGH,” he flailed back from the computer screen, and Jen could not hold back her laughter any longer. “Oh gods, I'm going to be sick. Gods below, it never gets less horrifying.”

Astarion took a moment to compose himself before he spun and leveled a glare at her as she wiped a tear out of her eye.

“You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Wretch.”

“Stop touching things if you don’t want to find out what happens,” she chided him.

“Are we done here?”

“Yes. I picked up the rune. Let’s free our girl Shart.”

They did so, Astarion noting the little brain worm’s help with a curious ‘hm,’ before Jen ushered him into a hallway, dropped a chest behind them, and opened the sphincter into the final room. As with every other time, the sight of a mindflayer had him riled up instantly, especially when it ordered them about, calling them thralls in the process.

“Can we kill it? Please? ” he growled.

“Yes. Absolutely. We’re killing them both. Shart will make the commander drop the weapon, then we’ll kill him, then the mind flayer.”

She executed her plan as she had so many times before, letting Astarion take a moment to read the tutorials that popped up throughout the fight, helpfully explaining disengaging, healing potions, opportunity attacks, and more.

“Well, I see why you put that chest there,” he chuckled as the cambions attempted to join the fray and took their anger out on the inanimate object instead.

“Yep, and the best part is all the extra bonus experience we get for this. We get to start at level two, basically.”

“Level two?”

“It’s how you learn new abilities and spells. You get to pick things as you level up, within the talents of whatever class you’re playing.”

“Ah, so it emulates real experience.”

“I think, though,” said Jen with a sigh, feeling the weight of her not completely ended migraine start to press on her skull again, “that we’ll have to continue this later once we get to the beach below. My head’s starting to act up again and I’m just exhausted this evening. The migraines take a lot out of me.”

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “I haven’t even seen myself yet and you want to go to sleep.”

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you played it through on your own,” she offered hopefully.

He sniffed at her.

“We’ll just pick right back up tomorrow,” he stated.

For a moment, Jen thought about arguing with him. She had work come the morning, but she wasn’t feeling nearly good enough to talk this out.

“You know,” she said, “you did really like that cutscene. If you want, you can come watch the TV out in the living room with me. I’m not much of a TV watcher, but I’ll show you how it works, and you can always watch the one in the bedroom whenever I’m asleep and you’re not feeling like reading.”

He acquiesced, and she grabbed a fresh ice pack from her extensive collection on the way to bed down on the couch. She explained the remote, gave a brief tour of the TV apps, and settled on watching one of her comfort shows, River Monsters. Astarion was fascinated with the concept of the television by the time she drifted off, and she was hopeful that it would get him through the day tomorrow when she had to spend eight hours online working.

Notes:

It's fun trying to imagine what BG3 would be like to someone who hadn't even seen a screen until two days ago. We get a small *taste* of things to come in the next chapter. ;D

Chapter 11: The Beginning of the End

Summary:

Jen is coaxed into skipping work for the day to spend some more time playing through act one. Friendly banter and mutual amusement reign, until one scene in particular leaves Jen wrestling with an uncomfortable truth.

11. The Beginning of the End

“Good morning, darling,” purred a voice as it crossed the living room past her makeshift bed. Jen blinked awake, scrabbling at her phone, noting that it was before her damned alarm was set to go off. The fabric of the arm chair in the corner sighed and its joints squeaked as he sat down.

“So, when can we start?”

Jen let the phone fall beside her, dragging her hand across her face.

“It’s seven thirty in the morning,” she grumbled.

“The sun’s coming up,” he countered, “so it is morning. We’ve got plenty to do today. We’ve got to go rescue me from the wilderness.”

I have plenty to do today and that plenty to do is work.

“About that,” she muttered. “I have to work today.”

“You- what?”

“Work. That thing people do to make money? So I don’t end up starving and destitute alongside the interstate somewhere?”

“I figured you inherited your wealth,” he said.

“Fucking hell, Astarion, my wealth ? You’ve seen my house.”

“Well it’s not a palace,” he sniffed, “but it’s certainly not as much of a hovel as you claimed it to be. You have your own exclusive spa, private gardens out back, and personal carriage, and that all means some form of wealth.”

“Yes,” she grumbled, amused and cranky both now, “the American Dream. A low end jetless whirlpool, a privacy fence in back, and my own gas guzzling earth-murder mobile. I earned this, thanks.”

“So… no game playing today?”

“No. Not until I put my eight hours in.”

“What is your profession, then?”

“Computer stuff.”

He frowned at her.

“More detail is just going to confuse you for now.”

“So you’re going to go to your computer, and just… do what, exactly?”

“Work.”

He scoffed at her.

“If you’re going to be on your computer anyway, darling, you might as well continue your game with me.”

“If you could sound a little less like the perpetual devil on my shoulder, that would be fantastic.”

“But much less fun.”

In truth, she was far keener to see how their playthrough was going to go than anything that could have been waiting for her at work, and they did have an open PTO policy. The winter was also when the business whose account she served was at its absolute busiest, which meant nothing groundbreaking or new was being pushed into production technology wise, certainly nothing that needed extra attention from her. It was almost entirely support tickets, backlogged changes, and testing at the moment.

And my coworkers are taking extra time off between Christmas and New Year’s whereas I’m not…

“Alright, alright, ” she told him, pushing herself upright. “Let me just get in touch with my colleagues and let them know I’ll be taking some personal time today. And I’m eating breakfast first, too.”

“Of course,” he purred. “I’ll be waiting in your clutter- er, game room.”

Clutter room. Endeariating asshole.

Despite copping an attitude about the whole thing with him, she was more than happy to play hookie and do nothing but game all day. The boring times at work were the absolute worst, when she felt obligated to remain ‘active’ and bitterly resentful about it. She returned to her computer with a nice, big bowl of grits, heaped with salt and butter, and a hot mug of Earl Grey alongside it.

“Bergamot tea?” asked Astarion with a half smile.

“It’s called Earl Grey. It’s a tea flavor that damn near predates even you.” 

“Oh I highly doubt that, my dear.”

“It’s over two hundred years old.”

“And I’m over three.”

That got her attention. As far as she knew, he was somewhere in the mid two hundreds. If he was claiming to be over three centuries old, some time had to have elapsed since the events of Baldur’s Gate III and his arrival in her woods. She filed this tidbit away as she loaded the save file up and invited him to the game.

“Alright, so here we are, crash landed. What first?”

“Darling,” came the disappointed sigh, “do you even have to ask that?”

“No, I suppose that was a stupid question given the narcissistic elf doing the backseat driving at the moment. Look, Shadowheart is literally lying on the beach there. Do you care if I grab her first? Will your ego survive?”

“I suppose,” he said with a teasing pout.

Jen picked up Shadowheart, remembering at the last second not to skip the dialogue since her new friend hadn’t seen any of it yet. Once they had her in party, she led them through the brief encounter with the intellect devourers and up the hill on the other side of the crash. She stood at the top of the hill waiting for Astarion, who was busy checking every single container on the beach below.

“Welp,” she stated, trying to herd the cat yet again, “there you are, all harmless and helpless.”

This got his attention refocused and she directed him up to her, explaining the minimap in the process.

“It is me,” he exclaimed, anticipation clear. He began to guide Tavstarion over but stopped short suddenly. “Perhaps you’d like to do the honors?”

Shit.

“I guess.”

She heard him chuckle behind her.

“It would hardly do for my ‘invisible observer’ to do all the talking.”

But doing all the looting was apparently fine.

“Well, let’s see how this is going to kick off this time,” she breathed, nudging her avatar the last few steps needed to trigger the first cutscene.

“Ahahahahaha,” came the delighted laugh behind her as the digital Astarion waved her Tav down and urged her to kill the brain thing hidden deep in the foliage. “Well? You are going to help him, aren’t you?”

Jen muttered her acquiescence and selected the first option, leaving the real Astarion giggling as the boar bolted offscreen and Tav found herself on the ground with a knife to her throat.

“Oh yes, she did fall for that one. My poor darling.” Jen raised her eyebrows, picking at a fingernail as her Tav held the dagger at bay.

Her Tav played it nice and obligingly, nodding along and trying to convince him that she was snatched too, right up until the worm distracted him enough to slip from his grasp. She focused as she heard Astarion muttering behind her, straining to pick up what he was saying.

“There you are, darling. Regained your footing now, haven’t you?” He paused for a moment before complaining loudly. “Ugh, you just had to make her look like that, didn’t you? Just because she’s in the wilds doesn’t mean she has to be some kind of savage.”

“I’m not changing it, so again, kindly drop it.”

“Fine. Then continue, please.”

Jen finished up the interaction, admitting she probably would have done the same and repeating her story. Astarion snorted behind her as he laughed fatalistically on screen about the worm turning him into a monster.

“So,” she interjected as the first cutscene ended. “Holding up alright?”

“Of course I am. This is fascinating, darling!”

“I meant is the story lining up.”

“Yes, though we’ve only just begun. A little early to tell, don’t you think?”

“Fair enough. Gale’s up next. And before you ask, yes, you can murder the shit out of the dying mind flayer.”

Jen continued along the path, Astarion, Tavstarion, and Shadowheart in tow, until they found the crackling rune.

“Question,” said Jen, sitting impatiently through Gale’s rambling introduction, “Was he always this long winded about everything?”

“Gods, yes,” laughed Astarion.

“In that case, do you care if I skip half his fucking dialogue. I just cannot with him sometimes. I feel bad, I know he means well, but man, just get to the point. ”

“Not at all, my dear. I’m mostly here for myself, after all.”

Jen started mashing the spacebar and the one key with relish.

“Alright, there’s the first four, er five, of us. Rest time.”

“Already? We’ve barely done a thing!”

“You’re going to want to trust me on this. The game moves major story points along during rests. If we don’t take them, things are going to get a little backed up and out of whack.”

Astarion made a noncommittal noise behind her.

“If we don’t do it now, we’re going to miss a scene you’re in.”

“Oh. Well, lead with that next time.”

Jen rolled her eyes and brought the party to camp, where she immediately ignored Gale’s exclamation point and started up a conversation with Astarion. He listened to Jen ask his digital doppelganger about sleeping outside without comment this time, until a chuckle at the end when he offered to keep watch. Jen rolled her eyes and grunted skeptically.

“So suspicious,” he purred over his shoulder. She didn’t deign to reply, getting them back on the road and up toward Lae’zel, who she scared the tieflings away from before chiding the caged githyanki to say please. Gale got sent to camp and Lae’zel joined the party with her stolen flame sword of overpowered smack downs.

They headed up toward the druid grove next, arriving just in time to join the fray and get a brief glimpse of the Blade of Frontiers. Once inside, Jen insisted that they rest again.

“Because you’ll like this one,” she said to forestall any arguing, leaning back in her chair, bracing herself to discuss the preferred manner of her impending death with Astarion.

“So,” said the digital version, “Not a tentacle to be seen.”

Her Tav expressed her hopes that it would stay that way, setting off a brief monologue in which an entirely too interested Astarion questioned how she would prefer he kill her. Jen let the screen sit on the list of options and spun her chair, eyes narrowed as quiet giggle fits shook the chair behind her. 

“Just how much were you salivating at the thought of ending poor Tav?”

“Oh, quite a bit,” he confirmed, voice unsettlingly low. “I was rather hungry by then and her heartbeat had grown into a veritable siren’s song.”

“Hm. Is decapitation still your preferred method of death?”

“There better not be a reason for that question, my dear.”

She snorted, selecting ‘knife’ as her personal preference, palming her face in amusement mixed with trepidation at the resulting fantasy from digital Astarion and the vocal agreement with himself from the real one sitting six feet behind her.

“I see I did well to stay in that fucking creek night one.”

“Darling, you have no idea.”

“I think I have an inkling of an idea, thanks.”

With that, they were off once more. Jen knew they’d need to go get ahold of Sazza or interrogate Zorru to trigger the stargazing scene, so she made sure to bring Lae’zel and crew over to the unfortunate tiefling first, then wander around the grove a little, selling off junk and superfluous gear while buying a few upgraded weapons in exchange before picking up Wyll and dragging the party back to camp again.

So far it seemed that Astarion was quite onboard with himself, and while there had been some minor dialogue options, nothing too momentous had been said yet. She exhaled in amusement as Astarion informed her that she should go talk to him because he had an exclamation point over him and that clearly meant that he wanted to talk.

She watched the scene begin, listening to the crackling flames, the frogs, the crickets, and the sound of their companions over the backdrop of soothing piano.

“Will this little adventure of ours be over?”

Jen turned around, pausing on unchosen lines of text.

“What were you thinking, on night three?” she asked with a frown.

“Hm?”

“If this, or a conversation like this took place, what were you thinking then? You had to be awfully conflicted.”

Astarion eyed her for a moment, small scowl forming in the corner of his lips as he took her in with his piercing red eyes. He spoke slowly and carefully when he began.

“It’s hard to recall exactly, besides the fact that I was terrified of every potential outcome and that Tav seemed to be my best chance to survive.” He trailed off, offering nothing else, and Jen started progressing through the dialogue options again, noting that she was just trying to survive, too.

“Well,” he added, “that and Tav looked awfully delicious in the firelight.”

Jen rolled her eyes as her Tav told Astarion that he could stop staring.

Like code, like reality.

That fact was… problematic. She was having enough trouble keeping him compartmentalized in a comfortable space in her mind already. The more the him she knew and the him behind her started to overlap, the harder this was starting to get.

Jen fidgeted as the party walked out of the portcullis. When they ran into the boar in the middle of the road, her stomach squirmed. Bite night. Bite night was up next.

“Let’s go dig up our friend Withers,” she suggested, turning the opposite direction. “He’ll be good to have as we get into more fights, plus, there are quite a few things to battle around those ruins. And it’ll be good to clear this part of the map out before going across the bridge there.”

She shot down the block of stone to start the fight and glanced back over her shoulder again, watching Astarion pick a spell.

“What’s it like,” she asked, “knowing that gods and hell and other worlds are actually real?”

“What?” he said, turning his head inquisitively.

“All this mystical, magical stuff. It being real.”

“I never really thought about it. It was just part of life. Probably much like your technology is to you.”

“Technology has advanced really quickly in my lifetime. We didn’t have cell phones when I was a kid or a computer at home until I was in middle school. I don’t know, it’s just odd to me, the thought of actual gods and immortal beings.”

“They’re just like everyone else, only with more power and less willingness to share it,” he muttered. “Can we get back to the task at hand, darling? Or are you going all ‘Gale’ on me?”

“Don’t touch-” she sighed as the skeletons she had been trying to deprive of weapons ahead of time came to life around her, “that button yet. You are fucking insatiable.”

His dark chuckle washed over her and she deeply regretted her choice of words for a moment. Should have gone with irascible. 

“Should we rest again?” he asked after combat ended and Withers had vanished. Jen swallowed.

“Yeah, but let’s get out of the ruins. I like the river camp better.”

“You’re nervous,” he observed.

“Because I know what’s about to happen.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. And this one kind of sets the tone for things to come,” she said as the camp at night loaded in on their screens.

“Well, now you’ve got my full attention, darling.”

Jen slid her thumb nail back and forth beneath the nail on another finger, eyeing the bedroll on screen as if it was the thing about to bite her. She made her hands stop moving, and then scowled as she realized the fidgets had moved to her toes now instead.

Have to do it at some point. Just click the thing.

She did, biting her lip as the narrator broke in. She heard Astarion suck his breath in as he realized that he recognized the shoes creeping up to Tav’s bedroll. They both watched in silence as the scene began to play out. Jen broke it first after staring at the first set of dialogue options for a moment.

“How do you want me to play this? Most optimal outcome or like I did the first time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve played the game through so many times I know damn near every way this night can go.” She paused, looking at the options on the screen. “Well, except for killing you. I actually never tried that one.”

“Well, thank you for that, my dear. I say let’s see what happened when you went in blind. Seems… a little more fun that way.”

Jen squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose before sighing deeply. It was objectively hilarious, but it also hadn’t exactly been her proudest moment.

‘How long since you killed someone? Days? Hours? ’

Digital Astarion waxed eloquent about his dietary habits and she found herself muttering back to him, as always, that this was a technicality.

‘Why didn’t you tell me? ’

She threw a sidelong glance over her shoulder, checking on her companion. Astarion was watching his screen raptly, focused and perfectly still. She could just picture the look of hunger on his face as she stole a glance at the back of his head of curls and turned back to her screen as she became aware of her heartbeat.

She scowled, looking at the next set of options.

“For the record, I did not actually fully believe you here, but I was trying to get on your good side because I figured an agreeable vampire would be useful.”

He gasped dramatically from the chair behind her.

“You devil!”

“Hm,” she murmured back before making her selection.

‘I do. I believe you. ’

“Sure fucking can’t,” she told the screen, and Astarion shushed her.

And finally, here it was. The beginning of the fucking end.

‘Fine. But not a drop more than you need. ’

Jen pushed herself away from the keyboard, leaning back in her chair as she watched him come in for the bite. She drummed her fingers on the desk as the narrator spoke, and let the first four options sit a moment out of habit, pausing to wonder what it felt like as she watched Tav squirming beneath him.

Of course, right on queue as usual, her body started to react, too, and Jen flushed as she realized that her guest was likely very much aware of this blossoming reaction. She hastily picked the fourth option.

‘Let him continue.’

With crossed arms and clenched jaw, she listened as the narrator continued, not letting the scene linger after the lines this time. With a resigned sigh and a final pressing of her face into her palms, she clicked the third option and let her hands fall back loudly on the desk.

‘Relax. Let yourself drift away… ’

Astarion had gone absolutely still as the screen faded to black. When it loaded back in, with Tav sprawled dead in a pile of camp gear, and his digital self’s half-hearted line of either lamentation or ass-covering, he burst into laughter. It was the ‘Halsin Scene’ laugh, the one she got when a romanced Tav went to ask him about Halsin’s advances in act three. The one where he knew he was right and all his entertainment and pleasure and amusement all fed on each other to result in a hell of a fit.

“Ahahahaha! Is this why we had to go get Withers today?”

“Maybe,” she muttered, face burning with embarrassment, refusing to spin the chair around to face him, though she could feel him staring holes through the back of her head.

“It didn’t cross your mind to tell me to stop ?” he managed to ask through his hysterics.

“Tav looked like she was having a good time, ok? And curiosity got the better of me. I didn’t know you’d not bitten ANYTHING sentient before - that little tidbit might have changed my fucking mind!”

He continued to laugh, struggling to pause long enough to speak, and failing this time.

“Yes, yes. Laugh it up fangs. Now go to Withers and resurrect my ass so this next fun little bit plays out.”

“You’re going to swing at me, aren’t you?”

She was, in fact, going to swing at him, just as she had in that very first file after she got over the shock of waking up dead, piloting Astarion to loot her own body for gold, and then sliding Withers a cool two hundred to rez her.

Tav got her bearings on screen and waltzed straight over to Astarion’s tent. The howls of laughter started behind her again as the scene unfolded.

“I’ll have you know, darling, that I dodged that punch, thank you very much.”

“Glad to hear it,” she replied frostily before finding herself unable to avoid snapping back at the digital him, “CARRIED AWAY? RICH FROM YOU. ”

This prompted a renewed fit from Astarion.

“You literally fucking killed me,” she grumbled after his exhortation to let bygones be bygones. This, and the following response from his digital counterpart, only intensified his laughter as she selected the final option.

‘Look, I’m not against you feeding on me, but only if we talk about it first. ”

“After all that, you’re still coming back for seconds?”

“You don’t know that!”

“Oh, but I do, my dear.”

“If it makes it any better, I made damn sure I had two hundred gold before going back to bed the next night.”

“How practical of you,” he said, wiping the corners of his eyes in turn as he spared her a sideways glance over his shoulder. She caught his look for a split second and swallowed. Those ruby red orbs positively shone and Jen was in no state to figure out what, precisely, they were shining with.

“Ok. I think I need a break,” she stated, pushing away from her desk and standing up.

“What?” he said, finally bringing his laughter to a halt.

“I don’t have a migraine today and I’m going to take advantage of it. I took PTO, it’s my PTO, and I’m going out into the woods for a bit.”

“Fine. Go wallow in the muck and burrs,” he sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to watch this television some more.”

“You could always play your own file,” she suggested again.

“Oh heavens, no. Certainly not after that,” he added with a giggle. “Enjoy your nasty little walk.”

“I will, thanks.”

And she’d take her sweet time, too, because she was a roiling cauldron of feelings all the sudden and she wanted to take them all well out of his eye shot, ear shot, nose shot, and everything-fucking-else-shot to try to get herself resituated.

It took until she’d slid off the gravel trail and down a familiar deer path before she had any semblance of order within her skull again, and she really wasn’t sure the order she found it in was particularly helpful.

Jen had a problem, and she wasn’t sure that she liked the answer to it.

A thought had gone to seed overnight, after her migraine and the unexpected moment she shared with Astarion during her recovery. It had taken root in the morning and grown slowly throughout the day. Playing through Bite Night had caused it to finally burst into bloom, unwilling to be ignored any longer.

Vampires fed on people. Vampires who fed on animals could make do, but at a cost.

The crux of it was, what was the cost?

How bad was it, actually, to go without human blood?

Did she have a postdrome Astarion locked in her house right now, silently suffering his curse as it only got worse and worse each passing day?

He’d noted minor differences in the game and his experience as they played, critiqued something here or there, but on the whole, the characters lined up so far. So did the plot and the information presented throughout it.

This led Jen to believe that digital Astarion wasn’t stretching the truth about animal blood versus human blood, and, logically, that meant that it translated to actual Astarion, who she was NOT going to be calling ‘AA’ because that meant something else entirely that she’d really rather not think about at all right now.

Jen sat on a dead tree and flipped another stone into the creek.

He needed blood. Human blood.

She ground her teeth, wrestling with herself.

Admit it. You’re ok with this.

She should not be ok with this.

Look how he took care of you the other night! And again with the migraine the next morning. This is safe Astarion, Astarion after he started growing and healing. It has to be if he’s over three hundred.

It certainly seemed like it.

He won’t hurt you.

No, she was pretty certain of that by now, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that she wanted to be bitten and now she’d realized that it might be the kinder choice to let him. She could deny herself when it was merely her own flight of fancy, but now it was all too obvious that it impacted his happiness and wellbeing in a very real way.

Shit.

If she was willing and he needed it, then there was not a good reason to say no.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” she growled, tossing the whole handful of pebbles into the stream. 

She had her answer, and she knew it. She was honestly just trying to come to terms with it at this point. The only thing that would help that was time and letting the idea sit, so she took her trowel out of her bag and hopped down to the creek bed with it.

She took a scoop of gravel, dropped it in the sieve, and let the water wash away the muck, revealing the collection of stones within. She saw nothing of interest, so released the stones, took another scoop, and repeated the process.

It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of scooping, sifting, and sorting. The water was cold in December, but it was also at its lowest point of the year, allowing her to reach gravel banks she usually couldn’t see and mid stream piles that were unreachable in other seasons.

She’d picked up a few good fossilized oysters, one or two partial molds of ammonites or similar ancient shelled creatures, and a tiny piece of coral; all in all, it was a pretty good haul for this creek in an afternoon. She held her fingers up to the horizon, counting them to estimate what daylight she had left.

Under an hour.

With a sigh, knowing she’d have to gather herself and head back soon, she took one final trowel full and began to sift, laughing a ‘Halsin Scene Laugh’ of her own as her eye caught a familiar, but rare, shape in the stones.

A gods-damned tooth.

Fossilized sand tiger. A good inch long. In fantastic shape.

She’d only ever found one other shark tooth in this stream, and that had been on the day after the election results were posted, when she had desperately needed a pick-me-up. The stream had answered her then, and it seemed like it was speaking again now.

She held the tooth up, pressed her finger against the tip of it with a dark chuckle.

Well, thanks for that, universe. I suppose I’m doing this, then.

Jen packed her gear, pocketed the tooth, and turned for home as the sun began to sink.

Notes:

Y'all know where this is going next.

Chapter 12: Bite Night

Summary:

The title is the summary. This chapter can be indulged in independently of the rest of the story, so if you're new and really just here for a good time, enjoy!

12. Bite Night

“So.”

“So.”

“What’s on your mind, darling?”

How do I start this?

“Chronic conditions.”

“Yours or mine,” he asked. 

“Yours. I was wondering something.”

“Go on.”

“Does feeding on animals keep the dullness at bay, or…”

“Eh, I make do, but I remain, well, not at my best.” 

“Ah,” she replied. Astarion sat in the armchair watching her face closely as she stared at her chewed up cuticles. He spoke after a moment, voice dangerously soft.

“Why the sudden interest, my dear?”

This was a bad idea. He knew. He had to know.

“I would hate to see you suffer unnecessarily is all, so I was wondering how your everyday felt compared to what I go through.”

“Well,” he said with an outsized sigh, “until I’m more comfortable here, and it seems like that will be some time yet, I won’t be dining on any thinking creatures.”

“Unless,” she said, careful to keep her voice neutral, “you have a donor.” 

His gaze sharpened, and Jen’s pulse leapt into her throat. 

“Are you offering, darling?” he asked, light tone belying his expression.

Jen took a deep breath.

“I’m not entirely opposed-”

The sentence died half spoken as the air in the room became electric. Astarion’s gaze had fixed on her face. She’d seen her cats watch rabbits in the yard like that, tension coiled within them, wanting to spring, wanting to capture and devour. Goosebumps shivered across her skin.

“I would like to have some idea what I’m getting into,” Jen said carefully, voice barely more than a whisper. “Is it like… bite night?”

“Hard to say ahead of time.” Unable to look into his eyes any longer, she watched his mouth while he talked. A thrill splintered through her as she caught a glimpse of a fang. His voice slid across her like silk. “It’s… different for everyone. Very personal.”

Astarion leaned forward in the chair as he finished speaking. Watching. Waiting. The night held them as Jen tried to understand what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

“What’s going on in there, my dear?”

Too much.

“I don’t know.”

But she did know. She already knew. She knew the first evening in the creek. She knew today in the creek. She was going to let him bite her. No, that wasn’t even it. She wanted him to bite her and she was out of reasons not to.

“There’s no resurrection here,” she said. “You’d have to-” 

“Of course,” he purred, leaving his chair and sitting on the sofa beside her. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

The blood rushed through her cheeks as she heard herself start negotiating.

“Ok. I want a safe word. To tap out. If I need to.”

“Sensible,” he mused, eyes sparkling as he nudged her gently with his elbow. “So, what’s your usual safe word?”

“Uh…”

His laughter rippled across her, making her feel for all the world like he’d reached an ethereal hand inside her and slid a caressing finger up her spine.

“Alright. How about-”

“Lighthouse,” she interrupted, as a word came to her.

“Wonderful!” 

How does he do that with a single fucking word?

Jen glanced at his face. His eyes weren’t meeting hers, but were instead lingering on her throat. The realization caused her to swallow nervously, and she noticed his hand flex slightly atop the couch cushion behind her as she did.

“Anything else you’d like to discuss first, my dear? Because if not…”

The sentence trailed off, full of invitation. She stared at him as the red in his eyes seemed to deepen, attempted to ponder the question, got nowhere, and shook her head.

“May I make a suggestion, then? It will be far more comfortable for you in that big bed of yours.” He held a hand up. “You have my word: nothing else will happen and I’ll leave just as soon as you’d like after our meal.”

Jen sucked in a breath at his choice of a possessive pronoun.

Our meal.

“Yes, that’s fine. Makes sense.” She cleared her throat, tried to sound normal. “Now, I guess?”

“If you're planning to retire for the evening, yes. Now would be the time.”

“Right,” she said, standing, trying to act business-like. “Now it is, then.”

This was fine. This was fine. She was being kind. She knew the feeling of being just frustratingly short of your full self, and she could fix that for him.

That's all this was. 

Then why the hell am I so damn keyed up?

Well. That was an easy one, actually. Astarion was about to bite her, and while she could rely on as many noble reasons as she wanted to tip the scale, the fact remained that she wanted this and she knew it. 

Jen stopped walking and blinked down at the bed. Getting into it was easy, so why did it feel like an insurmountably baffling series of motions all of the sudden?

Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you are literally crawling into bed with Astarion.

She hopped up on the edge, couldn’t decide what to do with her legs at first, then pulled them in cross-legged. Movement caught her eye, and she watched as Astarion leaned casually on the edge of the bed right next to her, observing her and waiting for her to get comfortable.

Shit.

She hadn’t really thought through just how close he was going to be getting to her.

Yeah you idiot, he’s literally going to be putting his mouth on you. 

Her stomach squirmed. She could do this. She wanted to do this. She wanted this and he needed this.

“You alright, my dear? You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s just nerves. I… if I can keep you from feeling like I did yesterday, then I want to.”

She took a steadying breath and laid herself back, closing her eyes and resting her head on the pillow, her heart fluttering and stomach somersaulting.

She exhaled softly and froze as a thumb and finger cradled her chin gently. After a moment, she gathered her courage and leaned into Astarion’s touch, suppressing the overwhelming reflex to shiver.

Her acceptance and response to his first overture was enough confirmation for him; he drew himself up onto the bed and leaned across her, bracing himself above her before lowering his head to her neck.

Time eddied around her in the seconds before she felt that first breath on her flesh, the brush of fangs against her throat and curls against her cheek, and those barest touches were all it took to stand every hair on her body on end. 

He drew back just enough to remove his teeth from her, and she felt the rush of an unheard sigh race across her skin, a sigh she mirrored right back at him.

“Hold still,” he whispered, nudging her chin up to the side gently.

Astarion took her pulse delicately in his teeth and held it there. She found herself tensing in anticipation as the press of his cool lips met her skin.

What the hell was he waiting for? He was supposed to be biting her, not-

His bite was a vice grip of teeth punctuated by two sharp flashes of icy pain, but oh that pain was nothing. It was nothing when it was followed by the rush of feeling his fangs sinking deep into her neck. He drew back slightly, jaw still clamped shut, stretching her skin taut before releasing his grip on her. His mouth and tongue chased the punctures back down as the blood started welling.

Jen groaned and sucked a shuddering breath down between parted lips before blinking her eyes back open. Astarion had drawn back to look at her, but his look of cautious concern changed into one of anticipation as he took in her face.

His self-possessed grin lingered in the corner of his mouth as his tongue slid across his lips. Jen watched, morbidly fascinated, as his eyes half closed and his throat bobbed as he swallowed. The sight of his obvious pleasure in his first taste of her blood left a thrill echoing down her spine, and she caught the flash of a fang as he sank back to her neck with a breathy sigh.

She swallowed a small, involuntary noise as Astarion’s tongue chased the stream of blood back to its source, licking against the bite before disappearing with its prize.

His lips encircled the wound and he drew a tentative mouthful from her. Jen closed her eyes and sighed, head tilting away, inviting him to do it again, to take more. His breath prickled across her skin like a welcome breeze before his lips were back upon her. Jen heard him swallow, his lips pressed firm against her, and could feel her extremities start to tingle, her muscles start to tremble.

Astarion paused, lifting his mouth just a fraction of an inch. Her blood began to trickle down her neck again before he licked it carefully off of her and rested his lips on the bite, waiting for something, causing Jen to open her eyes in consternation.

And then she realized.

He’s being gentle!

Well this wouldn't do. No, this wouldn’t do at all. If she’d gone through all this trouble, then he had better actually drink.

She growled at him, the sound rumbling up from deep in her throat. Astarion pulled his head away from her neck with a blink, and the sight of her blood smeared on his lips set electricity racing through her nerves. He looked at her, waiting to see what prompted her displeasure. 

“Don’t have to be… so gentle,” she muttered, face flushing.

Astarion raised an eyebrow and ran his thumb up the side of his chin, chasing a thin trail of her blood with it. He glanced at it casually before popping it in his mouth and sucking it clean, then looked back down at her with a devious grin.

“I was going to take it easy on you, darling, but if you insist…”

He gave her no further warning, dropping his head and clamping his teeth back around the wound before sucking. Jen gasped, suddenly dizzy and blissfully lightheaded, as his tongue met the warm rush of her blood, funneling it into his mouth.

The heat of her blood rushing past the cold daggers of his fangs as they trapped her pulse sent ripples down her spine, and she could not stop the small noises that began to escape her chest. Astarion released her from his bite all at once, hovering above her with his eyes closed.

She stared up at him, drinking in the sight. Gods, her blood was everywhere, decorating his lips, dripping down his chin, and she adored it, felt the strangest urge to strain upward and lick it off him. She lost herself in the thought for a moment before realizing that his eyes were open again, stalking hers, catching her gaze and piercing through it as though he was reading her mind.

“Better?” he purred.

Jen groaned as her head fell back against the pillow. The groan turned into a whimper as his tongue greedily chased the drops of blood that had tried to escape him during his brief pause. She found one of her hands gripping the sheet beside her and reached up with the other, clutching clumsily at him before latching onto his shirt.

His breath washed over her as he stopped licking and groaned quietly. She knew what would come next and she welcomed it.

More.

His teeth were at her throat again, this time nipping playfully around the punctures as he paused now and again to tend to her bleeding neck with thirsty lips and a skillful, caressing tongue.

Jen found herself writhing on the bed beneath him as another whimper escaped her. She was plucking frantically at his shirt, trying to pull him down, she realized. A deep, satisfied sigh resonated out from Astarion’s chest, rolling down through her like thunder. She groaned in response.

“Please,” she heard herself beg. 

Astarion pressed himself down on top of her with a throaty chuckle, and she found herself shuddering wildly at the glorious sensation of being trapped beneath him. 

He buried a hand in her hair and pulled firmly, leaning down to return to his meal. His breath whispered across her dripping throat, igniting sparks in the base of her spine that danced dizzying circles up from her core into the tips of her fingers and toes.

She whined as his lips and teeth closed back around the bite and the tip of his tongue licked against her. The playful tickle stopped and just when she was about to protest, he bit down again and sucked, hard .

Jen lurched against him with a surprised cry and melted back into the bed shuddering. He followed her every movement with his body and began to drink in earnest, without pause or breath.

Stars exploded across her nerves and vision as she lay pinned beneath him while he feasted. He held her free wrist down with a firm hand while his other hand grasped her chin, turning it as he pleased, keeping her exposed neck stretched under his lips.

Time seemed to vanish as the world contracted. She could hear nothing but Astarion’s low growls of hunger, the sound of him swallowing her blood, his throaty sighs and breaths of satisfaction, feel nothing but his weight smothering her while his mouth and tongue bruised her neck, drawing her blood -- his, now -- deep into himself.

Entranced, she pressed herself closer against him, muscles taught and shaking. He released her wrist and his arm slid beneath her back, helping her, crushing her even tighter as she dug the fingers of arms and hands she’d wrapped around him into his back with a soundless moan.

She could feel her blood racing, heart running wild. She tried to focus on it, to crystalize this glittering moment of bliss in her memory, and realized she could feel not only her own pulsing heart, but his, too. Hers a frantic ebullient thing, twisting within her; his growing steadier, stronger, matching hers beat for beat. Overtaking it.

She fell deep within herself and floated there, lost, facing down something raw, something primordial in a place with no language and no pretense. No hiding. No pretending.

Nothing here but him and her and what they both wanted: her to drown in the tide of their pulse, surrendering to the desire for him to consume her completely, as he guided her blissfully to her end.

How long she lay wrapped in his dark embrace she didn't know. She realized that she was barely even aware of his weight on her or the soft patter of her blood dripping from his lips back down onto her throat.

The drops tickled, and she squirmed feebly beneath him.

Astarion was murmuring to her, stroking her hair, soothing her as the delicious cloak of his heartbeat faded from her body. Their limbs were tangled together, and she blinked, disoriented.

Take me back, she thought at him.

“Hush,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”

His lips kissed her throat, tongue gentle again as he lapped stray droplets up. She melted into it with a sigh, skin tingling with lingering pleasure, the sharp ache of his bite mark leaving her yearning for more.

She felt him move, shifting their weight, and sunk into quiet comfort. After a time, she realized that she had stopped bleeding. He wasn’t drinking any longer, but was instead simply snuggled against her neck quietly, soft locks cloaking her cheek with his scent as he held her.

How long had they been lying like this, side by side? Jen stirred, and Astarion sat up, careful not to jostle her, to disentangle himself gently from her.

She opened her mouth to ask a question, but realized she didn't have a single word left in her skull right now.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he shushed her. “There’s water for you here, my sweet. Let me look at you.”

She licked her dry lips, intending to try speaking again, but only managed to breathe at him. Astarion appraised her, looking her in the eye, then taking her hand in his and feeling it.

“Your color is alright. Hand’s not too clammy. How do you feel?” 

“Mmmm,” she mumbled, blinking, as she started to find words. “Floaty. Fuzzy. Good.”

She heard an amused breath before he settled back next to her. Astarion scooped her in closer, and she found herself wrapped up in him again.

Yes.

Gods, she wished he’d place his lips to her throat again and drink. Just keep drinking until there was nothing left but the rush of disappearing into him completely.

“Stick that lovely little neck out all you want, darling, but you’ve had enough for tonight,” he chuckled into her ear.

She grunted at him. He tapped her nose gently, catching her by surprise.

“Just breathe, my sweet, while you come back to your delicious self.”

She did as she was told and lay still, wrapped in blankets she didn’t remember having brought in from the living room.

And… him.

Her heart fluttered again.

“You don’t have to stay here,” she whispered.

He tched at her.

“I’m not some savage. In a century of feeding on,” he hesitated, “thinking creatures, I’ve learned how to properly care for generous little things like you. You were mine completely, so now I’m yours until you release me.”

“Oh.”

“‘Oh?’ Is that all?”

Jen turned her head and was met by deep pools of red dancing above a contented smirk. No blood on his lips or chin now, she noted, and she felt… disappointed by this fact?

“Shit,” she murmured with a shudder, mustering a weak smile. “Maybe I should have let you kill me in that creek.”

Astarion laid his head back on the pillow and laughed.

“There’s always tomorrow, darling.”

“Stay,” she whispered, ignoring all caution. “Until I'm asleep?”

“Of course.”

Jen sighed and let her eyes drift closed, barely able to keep herself conscious at this point. She knew, of course, that this evening had broken open a box labeled trouble, trouble with a capital T, but she did not care right now. She was not ruining this for herself.

An elated laugh caught silently in her chest.

Besides, she wasn't in any danger. Far from it right now. She'd hate to be the idiot who broke in on this scene, because someone would be having seconds if they did.

Astarion had kept his word, had been the one between the two of them to not get her killed. She had no delusions remaining about whether she would have stopped him or not.

But he had kept her safe, alive and breathing. Better than that, even, she admitted with a blush. Holy hells, it was intimate.

She swallowed a giggle.

And after that? She trusted him.

All it took was a little blood between new best friends, apparently.

Notes:

I loooooooove bite scenes SO very much. Could not WAIT to get this one out for y'all.

We're within striking range of figuring out what Astarion's quest is now, as well, but there's some emotional brouhaha up between us and that reveal.

Chapter 13: Aftershock

Summary:

Jen wakes up in a mood but Mr. Super Senses in the living room makes solving this 'problem' discreetly, well, not an option. An unexpected arrival in the BG3 campaign does not help matters.

13. Aftershock

Jen woke from the best sleep she’d ever had with a lick of her lips and a sigh. The ache in her neck greeted her like a lingering kiss, and she felt heat rise into her cheeks as the visceral memory came swirling back into her gut.

Astarion bit her.

Holy hell, Astarion drank her blood. And looked gods damned gorgeous with her blood on his lips, dripping down his chin. She stopped, stared up at the ceiling fan, still unmoving.

What the hell is wrong with me?

A lot, probably.

Definitely.

But Grammy Barb probably didn’t have a bible verse to throw at her about enjoying getting munched on by creatures of the night, so take that.

She turned her head toward the nightstand where a glass of water stood waiting for her. She stared at it. She was going to be doing a lot of slow movements and staring today, it seemed. She felt, well, a bit drained but not in a heavy-weight-of-pain kind of way. It was a feather-light, floaty kind of drained and it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

He bit me!

She curled her toes and giggled a little.

Yes, wonderful, happy times, now get up, would you? You have work.

Blah. Spoilsport. Always her own worst spoilsport.

“Good morning, my sweet.” She froze beneath the sound of that voice. “I thought I heard you up.”

He heard the giggle, didn’t he?

Shit.

She felt the edge of the bed compress under the weight of a figure beside her.

“How do you feel?”

She thought about this a moment, looking at the way the surface of the water in the glass lay so still compared to her lightly skipping heartbeat. She blinked, pleasantly surprised to find herself literate.

“Quite good, actually.”

Jen moved to sit up confidently and felt the world get wonky around her. She braced herself, halfway up, on her elbows. Astarion was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and an irrepressible grin.

“And a little light-headed,” she admitted sheepishly, “but not bad.”

“I took quite a bit, though not enough to be truly dangerous. Not for lack of, ahem, your encouragement,” he added, holding her gaze with a smirk. She grumbled inarticulately at him, looking away.

“Mmmm,” he sighed, leaning back further onto the mattress, just shy of resting against her legs. “You’re one of those. Oh, my sweet, we’re going to get along wonderfully.”

“One of what?” she scowled, finding her words again, pricked by his observation.

“A cuddler, of course. What did you think I meant,” he replied with a large, toothy grin. “It's quite alright darling. I'm rather partial to ending the day with a good cuddle, myself.”

She let it slide.

“I thought you were gonna slip out after I fell asleep.”

“Oh, I did. For a time. But I came back to make sure you were alright. And to show your bloody cat that I hadn't killed you.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance and Jen snorted.

“She was quite concerned,” he scowled, fixing Eva, who was snoozing on a nearby pillow, with a stare. “Started yelling at me, even. She's a mouthy little thing, isn't she?”

“She probably recognizes a predator when she sees one and knows that she doesn't have opposable thumbs to open the cat food with.”

“So,” he said, swirling a finger in aimless patterns across the sheet beside her, “what’s on the schedule for today? More game time, perhaps?”

“Remember that thing about me having to work? Yeah. That.”

He pulled a disgusted face.

“The world doesn’t stop just because you showed up at my doorstep.”

“Well it should,” he huffed.

“I’ll go halfsies with you,” she heard herself offering, before she could stop. “Let me get some work done this morning, and I’ll take off this afternoon.”

Damn it all. She was going to have to get herself reined back in, couldn’t go being a complete idiot just because she’d gotten herself bitten.

“I suppose,” he pouted beside her.

“Stop giving me the sad cat face.”

His expression shifted into a wide grin.

“Fine.”

“Mmm-hm,” she mumbled. “I’m onto you. Any damn advantage, huh?”

“Worth a try,” he teased as he swaggered out of her bedroom. Jen continued to lay propped on her elbows.

”You should really drink that water, my dear,” he added from the living room.

“Yeah, yeah.”

She snatched the glass off the end table and put it to her lips, finding that she only realized how damn thirsty she was after she started drinking. She finished it in a single go and held onto the glass as she cautiously tested sitting up fully. Finding herself coordinated enough to pass muster, she followed by swinging her feet down to the floor and standing slowly.

The act of standing made her neck ache, and she found herself grinning and shivering from the base of her spine clear to her scalp.

Oh boy. This is going to be a day.

She looked at her nightstand and then at the open bedroom door. She would get through this a lot faster if she could just take the edge off with a quickie, but nooooooo… Why did he have to have super senses anyway? 

Not a sno-cone’s chance in a Texas summer that she’d get away with that while keeping her guest ignorant of what was going on.

She grumbled to herself in displeasure before walking over to the fridge and downing a second glass of water. She supposed she ought to treat the blood loss like staying hydrated and fed during a migraine, and so opted for a breakfast of hard boiled eggs and watermelon with Tajin. And tea. She would never dream of skipping the tea.

She found herself both pleasantly surprised and slightly disappointed to find that Astarion was busying himself with his own interests. She stole a glance at him as he raked fingers through his locks in front of the mirror of the TV, retreating quickly when she realized what watching him was waking up even further.

Jen sat down at her rig, opened Outlook web app, and began parsing through emails from the previous day.

Someone requesting new user groups. Another needing to verify who had visibility to a particular folder. Another few quick inquiries first that she could handle to at least show she was online and doing things this morning.

She had finished her breakfast before she switched gears to look at the backlog of changes and requests, tilting her head and wondering which one to start with.

She found her hand caressing the line of her jaw, just above the side of her neck sporting a bite mark and frowned at herself as she realized she’d started to imagine it was someone else’s.

Work. Do work, stop drifting off and get at least one of these requests done.

She sat on her hands a moment, as though she could crush them into obedience, before putting them on the keyboard. She began typing, thinking through what she needed this bit of code to do as she went. Generally, she’d write it out in English, then translate and correct as she converted it to code.

If this… then that. Repeat until done.

If hungry vampire, then get bites. Repeat until dead.

Her lurking gremlin giggled at this as she fidgeted uncomfortably at the immediate heat produced by this statement.

Knock it the hell off, she growled at herself.

Let’s try that again.

If this happened, then what needed to happen?

If Astarion bites you, tell him to do it harder!

She found her face in her hands.

Ok.

This was pointless right now. She closed out of the task and opened up her emails again instead looking for something, anything, that took no complex thought.

Usually when she was this keyed up, she’d just hop online real quick, dial up the smut, and pick a toy or two.

That was completely off the table at the moment because the absolute last thing she was going to let happen was Astarion walking in on her having ‘fun.’ She couldn’t even do it surreptitiously because the damn vampire had super senses.

Probably.

Not a risk she was going to take.

The car maybe?

He couldn’t follow her outside in the sun, but the neighbors all had cameras and she had no clue what range or field of view they had.

The patio?

That was a thought. She had that marvelously comfortable chaise lounger out there under the lemon tree and her sleeping bag was rated for weather cold enough that it’d be pleasant to go make a nest out of it today.

Surely he couldn’t hear her through brick walls? Especially not with the TV on?

No, but he might smell it on the way back in. She could rinse off down there with the hose, potentially.

Jen suddenly stopped, mental image of herself pantsless in her forty degrees cold yard with a garden hose nozzle aimed up her nethers fixed firmly in her mind’s eye.

Gods, was she really this damn desperate?

“Are you done,” asked Astarion behind her, causing her to leap clear out of her seat with a paranoid yelp.

“Huh?” she asked, wide-eyed and raspy. He eyed her up and down for a moment.

“With work, darling. So we can play again.”

“Play again,” she echoed nervously.

“Yes. My game. The one we started yesterday. I believe we left off the morning after I bit you.”

“The…”

Fucking hell, pull yourself together. He is talking about Baldur's Gate.

“Right. Uh, I think I need a walk first.”

“Yes,” he drawled, appraising her, “I suppose some exercise might do you well. Enjoy your walk, and don’t take too long or I’ll have to come looking for you.”

He knows.

“It can wait,” she muttered.

“Oh no, my dear, far be it from me to stop you from enjoying yourself.”

“Astarion. Knock it off.”

He drew himself up.

“Knock what off, darling?”

“I’m not a fucking idiot.”

He chuckled darkly and grinned at her.

“Debatable. You did let me bite you. Well, if you’re not going for your walk, perhaps we could continue our adventure?”

She grunted at him, booting up the game launcher to make it perfectly clear what adventure was on the table. Astarion settled in at the desk behind her with a self-satisfied giggle.

Glad he’s in a good fucking mood at least.

Where were they? Right. Post bite night. She flushed for a moment, gave her head a quick shake, and directed the party out of the grove.

They went north, clearing the handful of goblins from the statue cave, talking to the dying True Soul, and sending the siblings down to the owlbear cave. Jen followed them in and let Astarion know that the plan was to have the cultist pair run in and get mulched while the group peaced out.

“Efficient and entertaining way to get rid of a few enemies,” he approved, behind her.

“Yup. My thoughts exactly the first time I met them.”

Having done at least a little fighting in the course of the digital day by now, she selected the long rest option after they got back out. In the absence of any camp exclamation points, she clicked her way over to Astarion’s tent out of pure habit and froze under the crushing weight of dread as his voice line registered in her ears.

“Darling, I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we’ve shared - and I don’t just mean that lovely neck of yours.”

She slammed the F8 key.

“What? Why did it change screens?” 

“Wrong button,” she said, hoping he hadn’t started listening in yet, but feeling her stomach drop immediately as he replied.

“But we just started a conversation. Can we go back to it?”

“I don’t remember when we last saved. We may need to replay a bit first.”

Come on, give me enough room to skip this for now, please!

The timing on that damn scene could not have been any worse than right the hell now while she was a complete and total horn dog. Jen immediately right clicked and examined Astarion’s portrait after the screen loaded back in, mouthing the word please over and over to herself.

Shit!

She was sitting at forty-two approval.

How?

Astarion groaned behind her.

“Ugh, we've got to redo all of this?”

“Well, we can always do it a different way this time if you want,” she offered distractedly, scrambling to figure out what the hell to do now. The next fucking time she talked to digital Astarion, his fucking proposition was going to trigger.

How, though?

She hadn’t even been trying for it this run. No bird killing, no tiefling taunting, none of it. They’d not met Gandrel. She’d not found the Necromancy of Thay. Just bite night and random points! How the hell was she already over forty?

“Are you alright, my dear,” asked a voice behind her, loud enough that she knew he’d turned to look at her. She kept her face on her screen.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking through what's happened.”

“Hm.”

She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in the headphones at the moment and knew he was suspicious of her, though he had no idea what to be suspicious about.

“Alright, let’s do what we already did all over again and get right back to where we were,” he said as she heard the chair spin behind her.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

“Sure,” she responded as she steered the party back to the owlbear, thinking furiously. Scratch was up the hill from the owlbear cave. Did Scratch overrule the dialogue? No, he couldn’t because his scene triggered the next morning and this one triggered upon just talking to Astarion at all.

She needed more dialogue out of him, damn it. What all did he have opinions about in act one? Gandrel, the other companions, Raphael. Jen’s head tilted.

Raphael might work. They’d not encountered him yet. They could ‘accidentally’ bump into him right before the next rest and it would buy her one long rest at least. That may be enough time for the night's session to close out.

“You know,” she said as the group fled the cave, “there’s a hat I forgot to pick up back in the grove. Let’s go grab that, then do the rest again.”

She grinned to herself when Astarion didn’t argue with her. She sold the few paltry things they’d picked up and started toward Alfira’s hill, smiling as Astarion gasped behind her.

“Raphael!”

“Know him, do you?”

“Yes,” Astarion growled, attention fixed on the screen before him. Jen could feel the distaste and distrust radiating through the room. She thought back to the first time she’d met Raphael, not knowing what he was or what he had planned for the party. She picked her way through the conversation, exercising caution but avoiding outright hostility.

“Good. Can’t trust a bloody devil,” Astarion grumbled behind her as they found themselves transported back to the grove.

“Glad you approve. Forgot he popped up before my hat,” she added, by way of apology. “Alfira, hat, harpies while we’re here, then camp again. Should be all caught up.”

She crossed her fingers as they got to camp, praying that whatever digital Astarion had to say about Raphael, it overrode his upcoming proposition.

“Now there’s a bloody devil trailing after us?”

Jen exhaled in relief, but it was short lived.

“That’s not what I said last time we were at camp.”

“Meeting Raphael triggered it,” she responded, willing her fucking heart to stop trying to leap out of her chest right now. If it would just stop she’d be ok.

She heard Astarion exhale in a quiet hiss, panicked for a second but then realized why as she refocused on the conversation. 

His digital counterpart had just brought up Cazador. 

Jen froze, listening carefully past the ambient noises of the game and the game room both, trying to detect any reaction at all other than that sudden breath from her companion.

Nothing but conspicuous silence.

He said nothing, perfectly still and silent behind her, as she worked through the rest of the conversation, but she watched his avatar Tavstarion run back and forth over the same small stretch of ground behind her incessantly afterward.

“Ready to rest?” she asked after a few more moments.

“Are you sure we didn’t miss anything?”

“Yep,” she croaked.

“Darling?” She cringed at the suspicion in his voice. “Your heart beat is giving you away.”

“I- just nervous. With the subject matter,” she stammered, praying he’d seize on the obvious and assume she meant the Cazador lines instead.

“Thank you,” he sniffed, flooding her with both guilt and relief, “but I’m alright.”

“Ok. But we can pause whenever you want, so you know.”

“Let’s play through one more day. I want to know what the hells I was going to say.”

Jen felt the wail of defeat rise in her chest and bit it back. Gandrel. She had to get to Gandrel. Bring him straight there, don’t talk to him after the fight, hopefully that follow up dialogue would also supplant the proposition. She had a plan. This would work.

They left the grove once more and beelined west toward the swamp. She chatted with Aradin across the bridge, took his contract, then continued down the hill.

“We’re not going to go into the village?”

“Uh, wasn’t going to yet, no. Was thinking we could go pay a visit to a character of interest over in the swamp. Figured beating down Gandrel might be fun,” she offered hopefully.

“Oh,” he purred with sudden interest, “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

He trailed off and Jen sat in silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop with a pit in her stomach. She heard a sigh from behind her.

“Although, I seem to recall some conversations right around the time we ran into that Gurr that I’d rather not revisit tonight.”

“We can stop. It’s totally fine by me.”

“Let’s go to the village. There are things to kill there, too, right?”

“Yes.”

They crept in by Scratch, allowing Jen to start the process to add the bestest boy in all of Toril to camp. Astarion found it highly amusing that she nearly always initiated encounters with his avatar, seconded by Tav.

“It’s just how I play these games,” she explained grumpily. “Why not sneak in and obliterate everything before it knows you’re there? Doesn’t make sense not to. And you’re objectively the best one at that work.”

“I agree, darling. It doesn’t keep me from being entertained by it. Gods, you’re wound up tighter than a patriar’s purse tonight.”

“Work stuff didn’t go great,” she muttered, telling another half truth to cover her ass.

“Then let’s kill these goblins, go to camp, and be done,” he suggested.

She fell silent again as they picked apart the ambush. Maybe she could just save and quit it right after combat and he wouldn’t-

The prompt to rest popped up on her screen.

Gods fucking damn it.

He was getting the rhythm of this down too well. As soon as camp loaded in, Jen checked for exclamation points, and finding none, moved toward the bedroll.

“Not going to check in with your favorite, darling?”

She hesitated, half way between the tent and the bedroll.

So fucking close. I could just click it.

He was going to find out at some point. She was going to have to sit through this with him. There was not a way to avoid it permanently. But did it have to be today, of all times?

“Fine,” she growled.

She heard the creak of the chair spinning behind her. She should have kept her tone in check but at this point, she was done. Defeat was inevitable. She clicked on Astarion.

“Darling, I was just thinking about you. Remembering our time together, the things we’ve shared - and I don’t just mean that lovely neck of yours. I’m growing to like the whole package, honestly. And you clearly like me too, so…”

“Hold on,” he said, perking up, “is this…”

Jen swallowed, feeling rather like she was trying to force an entire watermelon down her throat.

“You propositioning Tav? Yes.”

She clicked her response, catching his excited noise and intake of breath with dread, and then braced herself for two minutes of pure, awkward hell.

‘...So?’  

“Come now, don’t be coy. Your body’s already given you away. I could feel it as I was getting lost in your neck.”

She wanted to slam her face into her desk so hard that it would knock her unconscious and she could escape the embarrassment of just how badly her body was betraying her.

“Your little shakes of excitement. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

She glanced up at the screen, raising her head from her arms where she’d hidden it so that she could select a dialogue option.

‘A lady never tells.’

“You don’t have to say a thing - I already know how you feel. Because I feel it too. We could take an evening to ourselves. Get away from camp - get some privacy.”

Gods, just end it. Just fucking end it. And why wasn’t he saying anything back there?

“I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere intimate. Somewhere we can… indulge in each other.”

‘A less trusting person might think this all sounds very suspicious.’

“Thank goodness we’re all such good, trusting friends then. On my honour,”

Gods, no, don’t say it. Please…

“The only thing on my mind is depraved carnal lust.”

Burning. All of her was burning to death right now in the twin pits of embarrassment and arousal and the only way to end the torture was to finish the scene.

‘That sounds pretty good to me.’

“Wonderful!”

Breathe. Just fucking breathe.

“I just hope we don’t have to wait too long before we can steal away. But once we can, I promise you a night you’ll never forget. See you there, lover.”

Jen bit her lip as the scene finally -- finally -- ended. She tried to imagine all the tension she was carrying seeping down through her arms into her desk, and melting away into the earth below.

“Ahahahaha!” She squeezed her eyes shut in trepidation at his delighted laughter. “You knew that was coming. You were trying to dodge it. You broke the game when it started the first time, didn’t you?”

He was looking at her, head cocked, lips parted slightly, corners of his mouth turned up into an impressed grin beneath glinting ruby red eyes. She glanced at him briefly and then looked away as the heat of her cheeks informed her just how furiously she was blushing.

“Well,” he growled, “feel free to click the bedroll now.”

She shook her head mutely.

Astarion giggled.

“I’m not doing this tonight,” she squawked. “The last two minutes were plenty of, uh… were plenty for one day.”

His grin was full of teeth now as his eyes flicked up and down, taking her in.

“I bet you ‘accidentally’ summoned Raphael, and you were going to do the same thing again with Gandrel, weren’t you?”

She held his gaze, lifting her chin stubbornly. He tched at her.

“Clever thing! You almost got away with that.”

“If I was heartless,” she muttered, “I’d have dragged you to Gandrel, subject matter be damned. For the record, I chose not to, a fact I hope you bear in mind when we pick this back up tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” he replied noncommittally. “Or you could just click the bedroll now.”

“Not even you can compel me to do that at the moment.”

“Sounds an awful lot like a challenge, my sweet.”

A rush of warmth whipped through her and she couldn’t decide if it was panic, arousal, or both. No, it was both. Definitely both.

“NOT a challenge. I’m saving the game and turning it off. It's getting late. I can’t keep skipping work. I am going to sleep.” She exited as soon as the save wheel stopped spinning.

Astarion’s gaze followed her the whole time as she stood up, pulled the chain to turn her lamp off, and marched out of the room. She stopped in the living room, staring at the couch, but decided she was taking her bed back tonight. Honest to gods, that man. It was a reflex for him; it had to be. She was being an easy mark again and he was just having his fun with it.

She caught a flicker of movement out of her peripheral vision.

Probably that. She had already let him bite her. He couldn’t be angling for that any more. Although, speaking of… she’d not invited him back yet. Gods damn it. Was she going to have to suffer through that every night, too?

She stood in the center of the room, licked her dry lips, and took a breath before turning to look at him.

Own it.

“So, uh, were you planning to… well, stop by for a drink again? Cus I slept really well last night and that was kind of nice,” she finished in a rush of words.

He eyed her, lips turning up into a grin.

“Certainly, darling.” He held a finger up. “Under one condition.”

“What’s that,” Jen asked, suspicion clawing its way out of the following silence.

“Admit that you enjoyed it.”

She blanched at him. 

“Oh, come on. We both already know. I just want to hear it from your lips, not this nonsense about sleep.”

“It can be both,” Jen insisted.

“Then you should have no problem admitting it, and, ” he paused dramatically, “I'll not indulge in another nibble until you do.”

“I…”

Damn it. Damn him. Damn the whole stupid thing to hell.

She closed her eyes, refusing to even attempt eye contact as she blurted out the words he wanted to hear.

“I enjoyed it.”

A lot. Please do it again. Gods, please do it again.

“So did I,” he purred, and suddenly she was wrapped completely in the sound of his voice, like she was being bound up in silk. A shiver slid up her spine, and while she didn’t remember opening her eyes, she found herself staring at him. He smiled victoriously, but then his expression softened, letting her go. “You need rest tonight. I’ll nip by for a sip after you’re asleep, with your permission, of course.”

Jen knew that she was failing to keep the disappointment out of her face as she responded, voice tight.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“Wouldn’t want you to wake up like your poor Tav. See you tonight,” he paused, tilting his head and grinning fiercely once again, “you sweet, generous thing.”

Notes:

Honestly, I'm just having fun making poor Jen squirm with awkwardness at this point. Next chapter will be another Astarion POV.

Chapter 14: Appetizers

Summary:

Astarion is finally at ease, mostly. He's still got some outstanding questions about this guide of his, and he's realized what playing through this game might actually entail for him, but for now, show up and do things does seem to be working for him.

14. Appetizers

Astarion licked his lips and glanced down at the sleeping figure on the bed as he stole back from her neck with satisfaction. Delicious. Just as much bite as that gin she preferred, and with a wonderfully warm finish.

Gods, even asleep, Jen drowned in him, so much so that he had been worried she was going to wake herself up with her own shivering and whimpering.

Astarion ran a thumb beneath his lips, making sure not a drop of decadent blood remained. Three nights was all it took, and he didn’t have to do a thing to entice her other than wait. 

She had claimed it was an act of kindness, of course, but he was starting to realize that his host was all kinds of tangled up between what she was and what she thought she should be. Of course he hadn’t been able to figure out what she wanted; the woman herself couldn’t even tell. 

One thing he was absolutely certain about: she wanted him. She hadn’t wasted a damn moment turning that drink from gentle to sensual, then she spent the whole day slowly boiling over in the aftermath of their first shared meal.

What he couldn’t figure out was why the hells didn’t she try to bring him to bed? The chemistry was certainly there. Gods below knew he could smell her desire, nearly taste it in the air today. He’d tried to help her along earlier, but to no avail.

He knew she’d not mistaken him; she’d flat out told him to knock it off.

And she’d had the perfect segue tonight with that camp scene she had so very desperately tried to avoid. She was burning up with need but wasn’t willing to indulge. Why the hells not?

Astarion examined her sleeping features, raking a hand through his hair. 

To that end, watching her play had been inspired. She had pushed back so hard, too, because she knew what he was doing. He chuckled. He found that he rather liked that about her, their little dances with each other, both well aware of each other and trying to nudge things in an advantageous direction. It must be something like a dozen to none, his favor, by now, but who was keeping score?

Although, she had scored at least a few points between the creek, the bath fiasco, and giving him his reflection…

Well, either way, she was fun. 

Now, if only she’d agree to have a little more. Honestly, being turned down had sparked something of a need to win her over in him. He was not used to a ‘no’ after he’d turned the charm up. She had melted in his mouth on bite night and he got the impression that she’d do worse if he could get his lips on some parts of her other than her neck. 

It was odd, really, that she’d be quite alright with him biting her, but then draw the line at a little harmless sex.

There obviously wasn’t anything wrong with him. Maybe she already had a lover?

No, he’d seen no sign of that. He’d have caught it already in the days they’d spent together if she had.

Perhaps she was just shy. She had played coy with his computer counterpart and had refused to admit anything then, too. But ultimately, she’d agreed to it in this game of theirs, so she had to find the idea appealing.

What had he said in that cutscene? Astarion paused, rolling the evening back to that moment in his mind.

‘Don’t be coy. Your body’s already given you away…’

That was a bit more direct, he supposed, than he had been with her yet. She’d also expressed concerns about it being awfully suspicious, so perhaps she still lacked an element of trust. Ridiculous, given that she’d let him bite her and begged him not to stop. What had his computer counterpart replied to that? Ah, yes.

‘The only thing on my mind is depraved carnal lust.’

He chuckled at the depiction of himself.

It had been a while since he’d gone so hard on a performance. When he wasn’t in fear of life, limb, and liberty he wasn’t quite as pushy. Not to mention he just didn’t usually have to try so hard, certainly not with someone who reeked of desire for nearly twelve straight hours. Perhaps he’d just have to find a way to be more direct with her.

He’d have thought the bathtub and the double entendres and the looks he slid her now and again would be enough, but maybe she was just a little clueless. Clueless and shy. That could be fun.

Well, he may have figured out, finally, that he was safe with her at least, but he found it left other mysteries he couldn’t help but feel compelled to solve. He’d take the topic up again later. He was sure that there would be ample opportunity.

Astarion chortled at the thought. She’d outright refused to click that bedroll, which meant that when they picked back up, she’d be dumped straight back into it. Gods, was it fun watching her squirm. In embarrassment, in surrender, and hopefully in pleasure soon, too.

Astarion walked out to his chair and sat down, poking buttons on the ‘remote’ in order to make the television work.

He would find something that would work given what she was facing down in this game of theirs tomorrow. Now, how eerily events were lining up with what he remembered of his grand adventure was certainly of great interest to him, but it was far more entertaining for the moment to gather barbs to prick her with.

A little flutter here, a sharp breath there, tick and tick. On the mental list the lines went. It was almost too easy, and it certainly was a novel way to woo someone, watching himself do the very same to her idea of Tav.

Astarion’s smile slipped.

Ugh, her Tav, though. She had the level headed, practical attitude about it all down, but she really could not have picked an elf further in appearance from his actual Tav.

His darling. His beautiful, sweet, sharp, sexy darling. Astarion closed his eyes in the stillness of the night drawing back the memory of her voice and her touch. Her quiet courage. Her willingness to just act coupled with her ability to pull the threads of fate together and bend it to her benefit.

How much she’d seen in him and how she’d been the first to care. Strangely, he’d found that he’d felt the closest to Tav that he had in decades just the other night when he found himself unexpectedly able to share her gifts with someone else who clearly needed them.

Tav was how he knew just what to do when the nightmare struck. He’d been able to calm Jen down because Tav had done it just like that for him the first time she’d seen him sweating and shaking and moaning in terror in the night, his normally sluggish heart frantic with fear.

Between that and Jen’s own chronic condition, he didn’t need to stress about what Jen wanted any longer because now he knew what she actually needed. She needed someone to keep her from drowning in pain and panic, and he could do that. Tav had shown him how.

Though, he was feeling a little uneasy himself after today.

He’d not expected Cazador’s name to hit him quite as hard as it did the first time he’d heard it from his doppleganger’s lips. His old tormentor had slipped away throughout the years, fading like a bad dream, and yet a century on and he could still slip right back into a cold sweat at the name alone. He hated it, hated how it could still unravel him.

Tav had told him time and again that it wasn’t a weakness to feel the effects of that evil bastard decades on, but he’d never quite seen how it could be anything but. She insisted it served a purpose, made him stronger, but he didn’t like that. It felt too close to that nonsense the clerics always said about awful things happening for a reason.

Tav had insisted that wasn’t at all what she was saying and affirmed that the only ‘reason’ for his two centuries of torture was that Cazador was a sadistic, vile fiend, which he wholeheartedly agreed with. He’d stopped arguing about it, but he hadn’t ever quite seen what she truly meant.

Well. If he wanted to see how this story played out in this game of his, he’d have to prepare to face it all over again. The mind flayers were one thing to see, but Cazador…

Astarion hissed and twitched, jerking away as he felt something touch his pant leg.

Wabbajack. He’d almost sent the poor cat flying. Wabbajack blinked up at him with big blue eyes before meowing inquisitively. Astarion reached down and stroked the cat’s fuzzy little head. His new feline companion seemed to take this as an invitation to leap into his lap and start rubbing his face against Astarion’s chest.

He glanced down and stroked the animal gently, flashing back again to doing something similar for Jen the other night.

Poor thing. He hadn’t been pleased, exactly, to see her suffering either that night or the morning after, but he did feel as though the scales were balanced between them now.

And now that they were, the situation was stable and comfortable, especially with the hunger fog lifted. Gods above, he was happy to have some damn decent blood back on the menu.

Speaking of, he needed to make sure she stayed hydrated.

“Sorry, my friend,” he whispered to the cat, who had just gotten comfortable. “Got to make sure your master is properly taken care of. Can’t have her getting dehydrated on me if I want any chance of dessert tomorrow.”

Astarion stood and walked to the kitchen, filling a glass with water.

Yes, all of this taken together meant that now that he had his footing, he needed to refocus on the task at hand. Always more of a doer than a planner, he was going to need to find a way to navigate this world. He’d read what he felt he could, and had begun to watch such fascinating things on the television, but until he was out and about on this ‘Earth’ he would not be able to figure out his niche, how he fit here, how he’d have to present himself. 

Where to start. What the dangers were. What weaknesses he could exploit. Where to find more bloody food.

The scraps of woods around did not host an abundance of wildlife, and he didn’t think that Jen was going to supply him alone long term. She was too slight and had no sense of self preservation around him.

This observation struck him as absolutely hilarious suddenly.

When he needed it most, he did seem to fall in with the ones who just could not resist him. Tav hadn’t had the sense left to stop him either, and his first taste of sentient blood had left him equally unable to. Luckily for Tav, revivification was easy enough with the scroll he had stolen from that merchant in the grove. Luckily for Jen, he’d long since learned control.

He left the glass of water for her on the nightstand again, pausing to check in with Eva as she inspected her human.

“Well?” he whispered, as the cat glanced at him, “She’s just fine. See?”

The cat huffed and began to spin circles, kneading the blankets next to Jen’s knees as she prepared to settle in for her nightly snuggles.

Astarion caught himself pouting and whisked himself away to his armchair.

It had been nice having a warm body pressed against him again as he lay thinking in the darkness. One didn’t typically cuddle exsanguinated bandits after a feast; they had a habit of growing cold and stiff on you, and it was a little macabre, even for him. And, well, it was nearly always too risky to reveal his true nature to those willing to indulge in their bodies with him.

Decades without that little pleasure, he sighed.

Well, it was time to change that, one way or another.

One way for certain, but in the meantime, maybe another?

Notes:

No big notes other than I'm still getting comfortable writing Astarion's POV. The next time he's the eyes and ears for our scene, he'll actually be acting more than reflecting. :)

Chapter 15: A Tentative Plan

Summary:

Astarion isn't content to stay in the house now that he's gotten his feet under him, so the duo put their heads together to do some plotting on how best to get him some real world exposure. It leads to another unexpected breakthrough in the quest to manage Astarion's condition.

15. A Tentative Plan

“So I was thinking, my dear.”

Jen paused her typing and turned to look at him.

Oh boy. Here goes something.

“I think the best way to educate me now is to simply bring me with.”

He presented himself with a flourish as Jen stared at him.

“Out into the world,” he prompted, when she didn’t respond. She spun back to the computer to finish her email as she spoke with him.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Come now, darling, there is plenty of room in your car for two.”

“I don’t mean how physically; that part is obvious. You're an elf. And a vampire.”

“This weather app can tell me when it will be cloudy enough to venture out.”

“It’s Texas. You can’t trust that thing. It’ll be twenty and snowing this morning, then seventy and sunny by three.”

“Alright, then I could just cover myself from the sun.”

She immediately pictured him in a burqa. She tried desperately to discard this thought, knowing it was rude and irreligious and blasphemous and well worthy of being cancelled over, but Astarion had seen his opening in her face and he began to press it.

“You just thought of something, darling. Come now, you can tell me.”

Again, it was also Texas, famously tolerant of people of differing races and cultures, especially these days.

“I don’t know how to protect you from the sun,” she stated.

“You’re lying, my sweet.”

“Damn you,” she muttered.

“Tell me. What is it? What did you think of?” His mischievous glee was irrepressible and contagious as he leaned on the desk beside her. She licked her lips and grimaced.

“There’s a specific religion that covers their women head to toe in fabric. If you wore that same garb-”

“I am so lucky to have such a clever little co-conspirator,” he purred at her, not letting her finish.

“Ok but it’s not that simple. One, I don’t own that garment. Two, you’re still gonna draw looks. It’s not a common or well liked religion around here - you’d stand out like a Sharran in a Selûnite temple.”

She stared out the window, wondering what the hell was wrong with her to have immediately come up with the most offensive, worst idea ever as a solution.

“Maybe we should have you try sunscreen first.”

“Try what?”

“Sit tight.” She got up, went to the bathroom cabinet, and brought back her bottle of SPF 50. “This. Humans use this lotion to keep themselves from sunburn. I have no idea if it would work on a vampire or not.”

Astarion snatched the bottle from her hand and popped the cap open, recoiling from it immediately.

“It smells awful.”

“Tell me about it,” Jen muttered in agreement. “You know, it’s also greasy and slimy and awful for your skin. You should probably just stay inside.”

“Nice try, my dear.”

He sighed and squirted a large dollop into his hand with a face of disgust.

“You really don’t need to use quite that much,” she said as she watched him leave a mask-like layer on his arm.

“Well I don’t want to use too little.”

Jen bit the back of her hand in amusement as he slathered his arm in far more than enough sunscreen, noting that at least it didn’t make him that much more pale. She glanced at the time and stretched before marking herself as away.

She took the bottle from him, squeezed out an appropriate amount of sunscreen, and rubbed it into her skin to demonstrate.

“Like this.”

“Are you sure that’s enough,” he asked warily.

“Yes. You’ll look like an idiot if you walk around with as much as you’ve got on. You’ll stand out, and I get the feeling you prefer not to when you’re up to no good. Make sure you cover any exposed skin, scalp included.”

He complied, cringing as he applied the lotion to his face. Jen, meanwhile, had to shoo away thoughts of rubbing lotion onto his ears for him, and settled for surreptitiously watching him do it instead. She turned quickly back to her screen and hit a few random keys to avoid getting caught when he was done.

“Mmmk,” she said. “I guess let’s head to the back porch?”

She opened the door and found herself swarmed by three cats who immediately thought it was their turn to go outside. Jen spent the next few minutes closing the pet door to the porch and ushering them back into the house while Astarion stood on the porch, staring nervously out into the December sun.

“Do you really think this will work?” he asked after she returned.

“I have no clue,” she shrugged. “Maybe just stick an arm outside first?”

“Alright,” he said, moving toward the door. He stopped in front of it, looked at the handle for a moment, and then turned it, forcing the door open with his foot.

Well, he’s not sizzling yet.

“You’re going to need to put your arm directly in the sunlight.”

“Yes, I know. I’m not looking forward to this if it doesn’t work,” he snapped, worried sneer frozen on his face.

“I’ve got some burn lotion inside if it fails,” she said softly, trying to soothe him.

Astarion glanced at her and nodded distractedly. Jen stood beside him, watching his internal struggle. She recognized the motions. He’d get there; he just needed a moment.

Finally, he must have convinced himself, because he took a deep breath, stepped forward into the frame of the door, and shoved his bare arm outside.

They both held their breath as they stared at his pale flesh in the midday sunlight. Jen wasn’t sure how long it would take him to start burning usually, so she remained silent at first, but as time crept along, she couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“Is it working?”

“I- I think so,” he said. “I don’t feel like I’m burning. Does it look like I’m burning?”

Jen’s brow crinkled at the weirdness of the question. She cast a glance back at his face and realized that he had his eyes closed and his head turned away. She stepped around him and out of the door to get a closer look at his arm in the sunlight. No smoke. No cinders. No ashes.

“Uh, doesn’t look like it, no.”

“Alright,” he said, voice giddy, “I’m going try this. Be a dear and stay clear of the door though, just in case.”

Before Jen had a moment to ask what, exactly, he was about to try he had opened his eyes and threw himself outside all at once. She stared at him, while he stared down at himself. They waited, both expecting to have to douse him shortly. But they didn’t. Astarion looked at her, eyes wide in wonder.

“It’s- I’m not burning up!”

“No,” she said, meeting his eye with surprise, “you’re not.”

“We need more of this, this- what did you call it?”

“Sunscreen. We’ll add it to the list.” She snorted in disbelief. “I can’t believe it was that easy!”

“Technology,” he said with an excited laugh. “And this works on all my skin?”

“Uh…”

She hesitated, suspicious of just how literal his idea of ‘all’ was.

“Why?”

“So I can lay in the sun, of course!”

“It’s forty degrees out.”

“I won’t notice that much. Comes with the condition.”

“Ok.” This still did not answer her question about how much clothing he was intending to shed. “You’re not planning on… um, you’re keeping your pants on at least, right?”

The grin he flashed her was answer enough, and she buried her face in her hands. Nope. There was not going to be a -- she swallowed -- naked elf sunbathing in her backyard today.

“You’re going to want special sunscreen for, uh, more delicate bits so maybe wait on that,” she suggested through her fingers.

He let out an exaggerated sigh.

“I also don’t need to walk in -- or out -- on you naked, thanks,” she mumbled, knowing he was quite probably going to call her on that, too. He pouted, fixing her with a dejected look that his eyes betrayed as a little too dejected. She stared back at him evenly, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Alright, shirtless only. Er,” he said, pausing with a small frown, “how does one apply it to their back?”

“Become a contortionist or get a friend to do it,” she deadpanned. “Go inside and I’ll help if you want.”

“Yes please,” he purred. “I want to lay in the sun.”

They retreated back to the porch and Astarion pulled the grey tee shirt off over his head, causing Jen to catch her breath at the sight. She didn’t recover fast enough to keep Astarion from catching her looking this time. He inclined his head at her and raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, darling?”

“It’s not fair that you’re this gorgeous.”

He blinked in surprise and chuckled.

“Why, thank you. I do believe that’s the first actual compliment you’ve given me.”

“Sunscreen,” she replied.

He handed the bottle to her and turned slowly, leaving her staring at his back for the first time. She didn’t move for a moment, stood captivated by the scars instead. His head turned slightly, and the hesitancy in his movement spurred her into action.

She squeezed the bottle until she had what she guessed would be enough to cover his upper back in her hand, took a breath, and smeared it gently across his skin, noticing the slight release of his shoulders as she did so.

He’d been nervous, too, though she suspected it was for a different reason than merely the idea of making physical contact.

“I’ll need to rub the lotion in. Might take a minute to make sure I get all your skin covered with your intricacies,” she let him know, pleased that she managed to phrase it delicately.

He nodded and she began smoothing the lotion across his shoulder blades, making extra passes over the ridges of the scars. After taking a moment to get over the notion that she found herself smearing sunscreen on her fantasy dreamboat come to life, she found herself focused on her task, scrutinizing her work as she added more lotion, ensuring the coverage was even despite the rough canvas under her hands.

About half way through, she noticed that Astarion was leaning back into her, subtly catching his balance any time she had to take her hands away to add more sunscreen. She caught herself grinning at it, but it faded as she worked her way down his back, unable to keep from examining his scars as she went.

The sight of them tightened a hand around her heart. She knew, of course, that they were a part of him, but it was different seeing it carved into him here in the flesh, feeling the ridges and lines, how deeply they must have been cut. She swallowed as she applied the sunblock on his lower back.

“I’m dipping into the waistband of your pants to make sure I don’t leave a thin line that’s going to burn,” she informed him, waiting for the snarky response about getting in his pants, but he remained silent.

Once she was done, she handed the bottle back to him as he turned back around to face her, staring past her into the distance. After a moment, during which she wasn’t sure if she should stay quiet or ask if he was alright, he looked back down at her suddenly with a grin.

“Want to do the front, too?”

“I think you can handle that,” she replied, flushing and shooting him a scathing look. “Don’t stay out too long. You’ll need to reapply it at some point.”

“Just a quick cat nap,” he confirmed happily.

“That hammock over there gets good light this time of day,” she said, nodding to the freestanding deck in the corner.

“Wonderful! Returning to your work?”

“Mmhm. I’ll check up on you after I’m done if you’re not already bugging me by then.” They exchanged an amused glance, and Jen smiled, excited for him once again. “Enjoy the sun.”

He must have taken her words to heart because by the time Astarion decided to grace her with his presence again, Jen was busy shoveling a grocery store poke bowl into her face for dinner.

“Are we going out tonight?” he asked, blessedly clothed again, but smelling strongly of freshly applied sunscreen.

“Well,” she said after a mouthful of rice, “we’ve only solved half of the problem. We’ve got the sun taken care of, but that still leaves the whole elf part. Your ears in particular are going to attract attention.”

He scowled, hand rising to touch one.

“Luckily for you,” she continued, “I’ve been musing over that part this afternoon and I think I may have a solution. It’s the time of year that it’s actually not that unusual to see an elf out and about.”

“Excuse me?” he blurted out. “I thought you said there were no elves.”

She grinned at his outrage.

“There aren’t. But people dressed as them? This is the time of year for it.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t have any real elves, but there’s a time of year when people here dress like them? What in the nine hells is this backwards charade?”

“It’s called Christmas. Here in the USA, the dominant religion celebrates a holiday on the 25th of December. It was a religious thing, but over the past century or so became very much a secular thing, too, and the secular side of it is all about gift giving. Santa, the head gift giver extraordinaire, is used as a way to encourage little kids to be good because if you’re good, Santa and his elves will bring you presents.”

“You expect me to walk around and hand out presents,” Astarion scoffed.

“Gods, no. Absolutely not. But you having pointy ears can be disguised with the application of a single, Christmas-themed hat. Perfect disguise, next to no effort needed.”

“You want me to wear a hat,” he asked her, horrified. “To put some wretched piece of felt or suede over this hair? You must be joking.”

Right. The hair. Of course.

“Do you want to leave the house or not,” she shot back.

“Of course I do, but really? A hat is your solution,” Astarion frowned disgustedly down at her as she shrugged at him apologetically. “Gods, there really isn’t a way to make this work without touching my hair?”

Jen shook her head before she swallowed and glanced away, picturing him in the hat he’d have to wear to look like a Christmas elf.

“What was that look?”

“You’re not going to like the hat, either.”

She produced the hat in question, a long, pointed red and green striped cap, tipped with a bell. She had removed the fake fabric ears from it with an x-acto knife and a seam ripper.

“That,” he sneered. “You want me to wear that?”

He glared at her.

“You’re certain this isn’t just some kind of twisted payback?”

“It’s not. Go look it up if you have to, but you’ll blend right in with the season like this and the only thing anyone may say about your ears is how realistic they look.”

“Ugh,” he breathed. “Give me the hat. And stop smiling!”

Jen watched him get it situated atop his head of curls, deeply enjoying not being the one feeling uncomfortable for the moment.

“Here’s what I was thinking. We’ll start by stopping at my favorite boba place, I’ll pick up a drink, and we can go on a shopping spree for you.”

“You’re only offering because I hate this already.”

“Partially. But also, the clothes I bought you are more lounge clothes. You’ll probably prefer picking your own for being out and about. My fashion sense tends to be a bit lacking.”

“I noticed,” he muttered, flicking the bell with an annoyed grimace. “The clothes in the second dresser don’t really fit, either.”

Jen didn’t like that statement, not one bit. Had he been going through Jer’s old clothes? She should have known tee shirts and pj bottoms wouldn’t suit him.

“Yeah, let’s get you clothes, then. But LOOK AT ME.” She waited until an annoyed elf sneered down at her once more. “You have got to follow my lead while we’re out.”

“Yes, fine. Are you wearing that?”

She looked down at her pajama pants.

“No. I’ll be putting on actual clothes. You can get away with your tee shirt but honestly, the pants you had on when we met will be less conspicuous than the ones you’re in now. Also, I’m not cutting into sleep time, so it’s this or game time tonight.”

“What!”

“I can’t get away with four hours of rest, Astarion. If I don’t get enough I increase the odds of waking up miserable.”

“You’re just trying to get out of clicking the bedroll so I can see what happens next!”

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms and lifting her chin. “I am. I am absolutely delaying that if I can get away with it, so again, your choice. We go out or we play the game.”

She shot him a big, over the top, shit-eating grin, knowing she had the winning hand tonight. He glared at her through narrowed eyes, lips stuck somewhere between a frown and a pout.

“Fine,” he finally conceded. “You win this round. Let’s go.”

Notes:

Please excuse the inundation of chapters this week! I was stuck home recently, but it meant that I got to put more hours in than normal on the fic, so that was nice.

The idea of Astarion in a Christmas Elf hat was something I didn't realize I adored until I wrote it. We'll be coming up on a couple of tough chapters soon, but I promise they'll end up better off for it! Also, I love the idea of sunscreen just working. Sometimes simple truly is best.

Chapter 16: Out and About

Summary:

Time for the pair to head out for an evening of shopping. Jen realizes she has no clue what she's doing. Astarion also realizes this.

16. Out and About

“Darling! You should wear those more often!”

Jen looked down, baffled.

“Uh, a hoodie and Uggs?”

“No, those pants.”

“Yoga pants?”

“If that’s what they’re called, yes. Much better than those loose blue ones. These highlight your lovely derriere.”

She blushed.

“I wouldn’t mind a pair of those myself,” he mused, still looking at her spandex covered curves. She moved behind the kitchen counter, blocking his view.

“Yoga pants would probably suit you,” she replied, picturing it with amused interest as she spoke. “If you wanted, you could probably get into a pair of mi-”

Jen heard the end of the sentence before she said it and slammed on the brakes.

Damn it all to hell.

“You could borrow a pair. They’re stretchy so they might fit?”

“No, I’m too tall,” he sniffed with a wave. “If it doesn’t fit perfectly, I’m not wearing it.”

“Ok, well if they make them in your size, we’ll get you some. It’s generally more a woman’s style thing, though. Are you ready to go?”

“You know,” he said as they stepped outside, “you went through all that trouble with the sunscreen and it’s already nearly dark out.”

“Yeah, well, that’s winter for you,” she replied. “At least you got to sit in the sun and we know what to do for later escapades.”

Jen opened her car door and got herself situated, resisting the urge to scare the shit out of him by honking the horn as she watched him pass in front of the vehicle. Once he let himself in and sat down, Jen clicked her seatbelt into place and waited for him to do likewise.

He simply stared at her, waiting, she presumed, for the ‘carriage’ to move.

“That strap is a seatbelt. Put it on like I did.”

He frowned.

“Why?”

“Because it’s the law.”

“Why is it the law?”

“I am not arguing about this. Put on your seatbelt.”

“What is it for?”

“To keep people from being flung out of a moving vehicle and smeared across the pavement. Please just put it on!”

Jen’s voice was suddenly raised in frustration, and she sucked down a shaking breath, trying to ease her grip on the steering wheel.

“Is that common?” he asked, sounding suddenly more alarmed and clicking his seatbelt into place.

“Not if you’re wearing a seatbelt.”

Well, this was starting out wonderfully. They’d not even left the driveway and she was already a nervous mess, second guessing everything and now flashing back to a painful and familiar argument, trying to convince him to just fucking listen while also trying to regulate her panic about unbuckled passengers.

“It’s fastened,” he said beside her, eyeing her warily.

He couldn’t know. It wasn’t his fault. Stop yelling at him.

“Thank you,” she breathed, pressing the button to start the vehicle. Astarion twitched and looked at the seat beneath him as the Mazda rumbled into life.

She snorted.

“It’s just the car. You’re not being flung anywhere,” she reassured him, putting the vehicle in reverse and backing out of the driveway.

“So, you’re driving this coach? Not a driver?”

“Yes. Pretty much everyone drives their own car here. Only the really, stupidly wealthy or the people without one don’t.”

She navigated through the blocks full of houses out to the main thoroughfare of the bog standard, twenty-year old subdivision. The vehicle started to pick up speed now that there weren’t any driveways or parked cars to watch out for.

“This moves awfully fast,” he said, peering out the window, shifting in his seat. “You’re sure you know what you’re doing?”

Jen sighed and looked at the odometer. Thirty. They were only going thirty miles per hour.

“Yup.”

Jen caught the tail end of an idea and found herself grinning. She was going to floor it as soon as they got through the traffic light and out onto the farm road, and she was really going to enjoy flooring it this time. The car slowed and she put the blinker on, waiting for the light to change.

“Why are you waiting?”

“That light is a traffic light. You stop when it’s red. When it turns green, we go.”

And go, she did. She checked the cross street, but as soon as that light changed color, she put her foot on the accelerator and whipped her little car through the intersection.

“Sweet hells,” Astarion hissed, bracing himself against the door.

Jen started laughing as the car hit cruising speed. He was hanging onto the handle above the door with one hand, and the console between the front seats with the other, face frozen in an expression of extreme discomfort.

“What? Not fond of driving,” she taunted.

Stop. Stop being a raging bitch because you’re not comfortable.

“I can see why people are regularly flung out of carriages if this is the norm,” he sneered.

She sighed.

“We’re going fifty. I’ve driven well over eighty before. Would some music help?”

“No. I think you should focus on driving, darling.”

“I’m not playing the music. I was going to turn on the radio.”

“Radio? Is that like the television?”

“Kind of. It’s just sound; no pictures. But that Youtube app you’ve been using is connected to the speakers, so if you wanted to put one of your videos on, you could listen to it while we drive, instead.”

“How long is this going to take?”

Gods damn it, he was uncomfortable now too. Fantastic.

“To get to my drink place? Like ten minutes. It’s not far. If you don’t want music, how about you ask questions about whatever we’re driving past and I’ll answer them,” she offered.

“What the hells is that?”

“Water tower, decorated for the holiday. Stores water for the town.”

“And that?”

She looked where he was pointing.

“Gas station. These cars use gasoline as fuel since they have combustion engines.”

“I read something about that,” he muttered, head turning as the gas station slid by on the passenger side of the road.

Jen spent the next ten minutes of the drive playing a really weird game of ‘Eye Spy.’ He’d point or call something out, and she’d have to figure out what it was and then explain it to him. They’d briefly covered fast food, stop signs, grocery stores, Wal-Mart, plant nurseries, apartment complexes, dog parks, motorcycles, strip malls, commercial versus residential buildings, crosswalks, Texas high school football stadiums, emergency vehicles, and parking lots by the time she got the car stopped outside the door of HappiTea.

“So,” she said as she closed the door, “this is Woodbridge. Basic shopping area you can find in pretty much every suburb a thousand times over all across the country. Retail chain stores, a few restaurants and local shops in the smaller storefronts out in the parking lot, and far, far too many people.”

Astarion had exited the car, but hadn’t moved to join her on the sidewalk yet. He looked a bit out of place, honestly, in his tee shirt and leather pants, especially with that elf hat on in forty degree weather. She’d had him forgo the sunglasses, figured they’d draw more looks than his eye color in the dim evening light.

“You good?”

“Yes, I suppose,” he sighed.

“Do I need to hold your hand,” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he snapped back, finally moving to join her on the sidewalk.

“Cool. Well you won’t have to do any talking in here, so just feel free to look around and get the vibe.”

She opened the door, causing the electronic bell to ring overhead.

“Oh my god, I love your elf hat!”

“Thank you,” Astarion sniffed, clearly none too pleased to be getting this kind of attention where the hat was concerned.

“The ears are so, so good. Do you do cosplay?”

Astarion looked at Jen, eyes wide in confusion.

“He does sometimes, yes,” she answered for him.

“Nice,” she said, beaming over at him. “What can I get you today, Jen?”

“Just the medium matcha milk tea, please, with tap.”

Erin, the woman behind the counter, repeated the order and slid off behind the counter to make it as Jen pulled out her credit card and paid. Astarion had wandered over to the high tops along the window, away from the chatty employee with strange questions, and was taking in the sights.

“Cosplay is dressing up like a character from a movie or game or other media,” Jen explained as she walked up to him. “You’re probably going to get that a lot given that you look like you.”

“Wonderful,” he grumbled.

“I told you on day one that you were immediately recognizable.”

“What was that thing you paid with?”

“Credit card. It’s basically a digital account you can use to purchase things. Then you pay it off with your actual money.”

“A line of credit, then.”

“Exactly. But given technology, it’s tied to your card number or the physical card and it’s all managed-”

“Through the internet,” he finished for her.

She nodded, handing the card to him as she leaned on the high top, sipping her drink. He flipped the card over, examining it on both sides before handing it back to her.

“I suppose I’ll be needing one of those, too, at some point?”

“It would help. Not everywhere takes cash. I’m also not entirely certain how we’ll get you one, yet, since you generally need identification to apply, not to mention some kind of credit history. But that’s for another day. For now, I’m buying. So, where do you want to start?”

“A tailor.”

“Hm, yeah, not really a thing. I mean, it is, but they mostly just alter clothes these days I think, not make them. But I take it you want clothes then.”

“Yes. Some that I’ve picked out.”

She sighed and then scowled, taking a deep drink of her tea. Fashion had always escaped her. Clothing stores made her uncomfortable, unless she was hunting for costume bits. Hunting through TJs and Marshalls was something she’d always done with her mom and sister there to back her up, and she’d never made the leap to really figuring it out on her own.

“Let’s go across the way there to TJ Maxx, then. We can start there. Fair warning, I am not going to be much help. Fashion escapes me.”

“Does it now,” Astarion asked with a thick sneer. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Jen leveled him with an unhappy glare, tapping a finger on the already half consumed tea. Should have made him just order shit off Amazon or something. Why did she ever think this was a good idea? Oh wait. She didn't. He did.

“Let’s go,” she said, correcting her sour expression before waving a friendly goodbye to Erin and exiting to go back to the car. Astarion followed her and, to his credit, buckled his seatbelt immediately upon sitting down this time.

TJs, Marshalls, Burlington. He would at least need some kind of jacket or coat to not stand out, regardless of whether or not he needed it for comfort. Old Navy, maybe, too? She was not bringing him to the mall across town yet; she didn’t need to go broke in department stores there and she could just imagine the arguments that might break out in a Macys or Nordstroms.

She started at the closest end of the shopping center, which put them in a TJs. Jen clutched her drink and scowled as they walked through the automatic door, another gadget that had Astarion examining it with a curious look. When he got over the door, and saw the sheer magnitude of clothing inside, he perked up with immediate interest.

Jen, meanwhile, felt herself deflating more by the second as she trailed behind him while he browsed through the racks. She kept flashing back to the first time she had to find interview clothes coming out of grad school and how she found herself overwhelmed and crying in a fitting room because her mom had been dead for five years and wasn’t there to help her any more.

It had been a decade since that, so why the hell was it suddenly hitting home again?

“Mm, darling, there’s not much here to pick from. I mean, there’s clothing everywhere but, well, it seems to be a bit lacking in what I think counts as ‘mens’ styles here.”

Jen looked up, and then looked around the store. A solid half of it was womens, probably another third childrens and juniors. She looked at the mens section. A rack of active wear, two of jeans, another two of basic print tees, and then maybe one and a half of any and everything else.

“Huh. Uh, I guess we’ll try the next one down, then?”

They ran into the exact same thing in Burlington and Ross, leaving Jen scratching her head in confusion, especially when Burlington ‘Coat Factory’ was seriously lacking in coats. These were where her mom had always taken them for clothes… but never her dad. Where the hell did they get his, then?

Gods, she could not be any less equipped for this or any more frustrated by it.

“There’s an Old Navy next door,” she said as they exited Ross. “I guess we can see if there’s anything in there that you’re good with?”

She knew for a fact that at least a third of the store would have mens styles, anyway. She replenished her denim there every couple of years or so, as had Jer.

“Let’s try that one,” he suggested, pointing across the parking lot instead.

Men’s Warehouse. She’d literally never been in that store but at least it was probably mens clothing at the very least?

Unfamiliar ground, no mental map of how to interact, holiday season, incognito vampire…  

She hated this already but the man needed clothes.

“I guess.”

She drove them across the parking lot, a simmering cauldron of anxiety the whole way. When they passed the store front, Astarion perked up, and his mood lifted even further when they stepped inside.

“Gods, finally,” he muttered.

“You there,” he said, catching the attention of the nearest unoccupied clerk. “Hello. Yes, I could use some assistance. I’m looking to update my wardrobe which, as you can see, needs it.”

Jen watched and listened as they carried on a conversation, trying her hardest to ignore the looks the clerk kept shooting her, feeling rather keenly that the man assumed that the poorly dressed bastard in front of him was her fault. It wasn’t exactly an inaccurate assumption, but she deeply resented being the de facto keeper of his style just because she was a woman. Fighting to keep her face neutral, she followed mutely as the thankfully very knowledgeable gentleman escorted Astarion around the store, helping select clothing of various styles to try first.

Jen looked around the store with trepidation. Suits. Slacks. Collared shirts, sweaters, vests, ties, all kinds of things she knew nothing about. Mens fashion was supposedly easier than womens but she still found herself lost and succumbing to the urge to turn sarcastic and unpleasant. She startled when the clerk came over to get her attention.

"I believe Mr. Ancunin would like your opinion over by the fitting rooms."

Fucking wonderful.

She thanked the man and dragged herself over to see what Astarion wanted. It turns out, what he really wanted was a mirror. He could see part of himself with is own phone, of course, but relied on her to take pictures from far, far  too many angles for each outfit, then turn the phone around and show him what they looked like. She would take another sip of match milk tea, wait for him to change a single blasted thing, then come out and demand a dozen photos all over again.

"Well," he said in a simple maroon turtleneck, "how stylish is this? What do you think, darling? Will I blend in?"

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “Couldn’t you have looked that up before you came? I told you we were going clothes shopping.”

He shot her an unhappy look, wrinkling his nose as though she physically reeked of ignorance.

“Why are you being so sour about this? Shopping is supposed to be fun.”

“The music’s always too loud, the stores smell like a hundred different colognes, there’s people all over the place, and I don’t know if the sweater you’re wearing is fashionable.”

“Well, then don’t worry about the fashion part, darling. How do you think it looks on me?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“It looks fine.”

More than fine, actually, now that she was actually looking. The turtleneck he’d picked looked fantastic on him paired with whatever the hell those pants were. Man, even the shoes, actually. He looked at her askance, tilting his chin up in a way that indicated he was well aware that the answer was well beyond the confines of the word fine.

“It looks great. Can we go yet?”

“Come on, darling,” he breathed, “lighten up . All I need from you is whether you like something or not.”

“So a simple yes or a no will suffice?”

“Well that’s no fun, but if you must.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you must, or yes, it looks fabulous?”

“Yes,” she repeated deadpan, holding his gaze.

His expression darkened, matching her own scowl.

“You know, my dear, that this is the first time in centuries that I can try clothes on and actually see them on myself, right?”

“I-”

She had forgotten. And now she felt like a complete bitch all over again. Well, fuck. She pulled her gaze off of her shoes, chewing a tapioca pearl in quiet shame before speaking again.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not comfortable and-”

“When you’re not comfortable you get ‘prickly.’ Yes, I’m aware.” He held her gaze a moment longer. “How does it look?”

“Turtlenecks suit you.”

Astarion tilted his head, waiting for more.

“And that one looks good with those pants?”

He scowled at her.

“Really not your strong suit, is it? Color? Fabric? Cut?”

“Er… maroon looks nice and the black pants look sharp? It looks super soft.”

That thing is cashmere, isn't it? Maybe?

This was going to be a hell of a receipt. Maybe if they found him a job she could make it a business expense on her taxes somehow? Did Astarion count as a dependent? Could you claim a dependent with no ID?

“Darling?”

“Huh?”

“Welcome back. Yes to turtlenecks; wonderful start! Now what about the collared shirts and vest from earlier?”

Jen wrinkled her brow as she tried to parse this out, glancing at the pictures she’d taken and held up for him earlier as reference. It had looked good on him -- again, everything did -- but she found she did particularly like the vest. She wasn’t sure why but maybe the shape?

“It looked really nice, too. I liked the vest shape I guess? It fit you well?”

Astarion looked at her blankly and then stared into the space above her head with a heavy sigh.

“Gods below. Alright, good enough. It’s a start anyway,” he muttered, returning to the fitting rooms to change back. Jen wasn’t sure if he meant the clothes or her apparent upcoming crash course in mens clothing.

When he emerged with his haul, and the cashier started to tally up the total, she balked. They were well into four figure territory, which was frankly more than she probably spent on clothing in a year. She looked at Astarion, chatting happily with arms full of fresh new clothes that he’d picked for himself, and realized there was no way that she was going to tell him to put any of them back.

“Yes, fine, what’s the total,” she asked, mentally signing over a portion of her holiday bonus to him. It was fine. It all would have just gotten thrown in savings, except for maybe a new keyboard for herself, anyway.

Mission at last accomplished, and darkness fully settled in for the night around them now, Jen drove them back home. Neither of them spoke much this time, both apparently lost in thought as lights and decorations blurred past around them.

Notes:

Fair warning, next chapter is a tough one, and the one after that even more so. But they'll get through it, I promise!

Chapter 17: Expectation vs Reality

Summary:

Jen is clicking the bedroll tonight, picking up where they left off in their BG3 campaign. Tensions run high and finally come to a head.

Notes:

Fair warning, they get into an argument and the chapter does not end on a good note. They'll get through it, but there are a few tough conversations ahead.

17. Expectation vs Reality

Jen had been dreading this moment for three days now. If she’d known that it would fester in the back of her mind so badly, she’d have considered just ripping off the bandaid right after his proposition scene. But no. She’d been far too discombobulated then to think about what letting it sit for three damn days would do.

Then they’d gone shopping the following day and they’d tried to again the next, but they’d had to end early when she got another migraine. They did at least get inside Old Navy, so Astarion had picked up some casual wear to go along with his slacks and chinos and turtlenecks and vests and collars. And whatever the hell else.

Flannels. He was really into the flannels they found there. He was not a huge fan of the denim, but she did manage to convince him to get at least one pair of (unspeakably tight fitting) black jeans. They still needed to find him a good coat, but they’d get there.

Tonight, however, instead of more shopping, she was clicking the bedroll. She could already hear the first line echoing across the past few days of distractions.

“Ah. A quiet evening for once…”

Jen sat in her chair, knee bouncing rigorously and unstoppably.

Fully hydrated? Check.

Well fed? Check.

Comfortably clothed? Check.

Ready to go? Hell fucking no.

Astarion waltzed into the room behind her, talking already, tone such that she could imagine him with a giant bowl of popcorn.

“Well, I am ready to see this. Let’s get started, shall we?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose as the computer chair behind her settled with a tiny squeak. There had to be a better way to do this. Could she just start the cutscene and leave the room?

No, that wouldn’t work. There were dialogue options to select.

Hell, she had the damn thing basically memorized. Maybe she could just pick the numbers he needed to select, hand them to him, and leave.

She stared in the direction of the launcher, not really seeing it, brain already checking out of the unpleasant situation. She clicked play, didn’t even let the title screen sit, watched the camera descend into the depths beneath the gate, and clicked the Continue option.

Just like that, they were back along the Chionthar, campfire flickering as the sounds of the evening floated into her ears. Jen ground her teeth, glared at the bedroll, and sighed.

“Oh come now,” chided Astarion behind her, “It can’t be that bad.”

“Would you shut up,” she returned, massaging her closed eyes for a moment before clicking the bedroll with an unhappy sigh.

Generally, she enjoyed the hell out of this scene, giggling and leaning into the idea of being Tav. Not tonight. Not with Actual Astarion sitting right behind her ready to evaluate not only the story, but also quite likely her reaction to it.

Awkward barely touched the depths of what knowing he could sense her arousal did to her. Mortification was certainly closer but still didn’t quite capture the emotion fully.

Why the hell is this so difficult with him here?

What was it about adding him to the situation that turned what was usually a highly anticipated bit of fun into, well, this oncoming train wreck?

She heard a pointed throat clear behind her and focused back on the screen.

What provisions to use tonight? Well, lots of wine, obviously. She selected every alcoholic beverage in the window. There wasn’t nearly enough of it. She added far too many potatoes to finish it out, not really feeling the role play aspect of it beyond plying Tav with alcohol.

Vittles chosen, she clamped her upper lip between her teeth and clicked the Full Rest button. Astarion’s voice purred into life from the speakers of the computer as she watched the damn elf sweet talk Tav.

“A quiet evening, for once. Perfect for two people who’d like to take some time to themselves, if you catch my meaning.”

Jen didn’t know if the devious smirk on the digital version’s face or the soft giggle behind her was worse right now. The version in the room snorted as his pixel counterpart clarified.

“And I do mean sex, to be clear. We’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Haven’t we,” he growled, causing Jen to throw a glance over her shoulder, temporary alarm at least a little relieved to see him looking at his computer screen and not directly at her as part of her had feared.

“Do I need to leave the room,” she asked.

“Oh no, please do stay.”

She could feel the unspoken ‘you’re the main event after all’ in her soul as she selected Tav’s response.

‘I’m not sure…’

“Of course, only if you want to. But trust me - you do want to.”

Did she though?

Nope. For the first damn time she really did not want to right now. Sure she might make a fuss and sass back at that line in good fun when on her own, but that was not the current vibe. Jen popped a knuckle, staring at the responses unhappily, strongly considering clicking through them unreasonably fast and dealing with the fallout afterward.

No. Wouldn’t work. He’d insist on going back now that he knew it was an option.

‘All right, but where will we go?’

“Let’s find our own little piece of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness.”

If only.

Was that it? Something she usually used as a safe space to explore and lose herself was suddenly being co-opted into something completely antithetical to that end?

“There’s a secluded place nearby that should do nicely. Wait until the others are asleep, and then come and find me there.”

Gods, maybe that was it. If only she had half the damn wherewithal that her Tav did, this would be so much more enjoyable. It’d basically be foreplay at that point, and maybe that was the problem.

Moral women did not watch sex scenes with strange men, especially when the man himself was arguably in it and had been not so low-key attempting to seduce her since their first fucking meeting. She was a moral person, therefore this was -- or should be -- completely off the table.

But here she was.

“Mmmm,” she heard behind her. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“You to stop making random comments and noises,” she snapped over her shoulder, spurred into action by his prodding yet again.

She clicked the first option, listening to the digital Astarion’s response with dread. Dread instead of anticipation. This whole stupid idea was insanity.

“Indeed you will, my love. I can’t wait.”

The scene on the screen faded to black, and shifted to Tav walking through pines into a misty clearing. Despite herself, Jen felt herself exhale as that damn elf stepped out from behind the tree. This had been the moment in her very first run where she realized that her whole 'cozying up to the vampire plan' had a fatal flaw: the man was going to destroy her in the one way she had no clue how to defend against.

“Oh,” Astarion breathed behind her. “Gods, moonlight really does suit me.”

“Please. Shut. Up.”

He tched at her, but fell silent as his digital counterpart began to speak.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

Gods. His chest. His abs. His arms. The face and the eyes and the ears. Sculpted starlight. That step forward and the first hint of possessiveness in his victorious gaze. The look of the door closing on the trap, not with a slam, but with a quiet click.

Jen couldn’t help but flash back to the creek again at that line.

Since the moment I set eyes on you.

That was the problem. This was a scene in which this man was angling for intimacy. The reasons why weren’t relevant, really, and she was watching this scene with the exact same man who was, from what she could tell, angling for the exact same fucking thing.

And this scene absolutely flipped her Tav narrative on its damn head. What the hell was it going to do to her? What the hell was he going to do to her?

Well. She was not going to be getting intimate with him. Absolutely fucking not happening. It couldn’t.

‘You don’t have me yet.’

“Don’t I? You’re here. And I don’t think you want to talk. I think-”

That fucking hand motion made her swallow and take a breath every time, and this time was no exception.

“You want to be known. To be tasted.”

“Gods, yes,” came the growl behind her, causing her hair to stand on end. Astarion was looking at the screen, but his figure sat far too still for her liking. She couldn’t place why it made her so uneasy until it hit her: it was once again that perfect stillness of a tiger before it pounces.

Regardless of why or how or if he did so consciously by now or not, Astarion was perfectly crafted to take someone down through seduction, primed for it every bit as much as a cat was primed to be a perfect killing machine.

And she had invited him into her house a week ago and then expected him not to be what he was? Laughable.

This is fine. Own it.

Own it? Really? Because that had been working for her this past week? Truly?

No. No it had not.

Her strategy of owning it was absolutely, one hundred percent, clearly and unequivocally not up to this task. This man had taken what had always worked for her and smashed it into tiny little pieces and she found herself suddenly vulnerable again without it.

He knew he didn’t need to do exactly what they were watching him do and yet he kept doing it anyway. Jen had assumed he would simply stop when she told him he didn’t need to, but he hadn’t. There had to be something else going through that dreadfully gorgeous head of his and she had no idea what.

What the hell did he want?

“What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”

Jen shook her head stubbornly at her computer screen as she clicked the option to nod, clenching a fist as Tav and Astarion leaned into each other, lips meeting at last.

She heard Astarion’s mmm of approval as Tav leapt up onto his digital counterpart, unclothed now. Jen looked at a few of the fossils sitting beneath her monitor and contemplated chucking one at him, anger rising higher yet.

How. How was he just comfortable with this? Wasn’t he supposed to not be? She heard a sigh in surround sound as Astarion held Tav aloft and braced her against a tree. She stared at the pair of them.

How easy they made it look. Wander into the woods. Have some fun.

Jen could no longer identify what she felt. Sadness, jealousy, fear, discomfort, arousal, anger, all stewing dangerously together within her as she worked overtime, trying desperately to understand it. To understand him, and herself, right now.

His voice snapped her concentration, scattering the already fragile daisy chain of thought.

“I may have sought to seduce her for other reasons at first, but we did really get lost in each other that night. Especially…”

He trailed off as Jen looked at the three options on the screen while the digital couple stared into each other's eyes. She knew what happened here. You didn't get this close to a vampire and not expect some teeth.

‘Roll playfully and offer him your neck.’

“Yes,” he breathed, and his approval was suddenly too much, to much to handle between the scene in front of her and the man sitting behind her.

Whatever emotions had gone into the cauldron of her churning stomach, rage was what boiled over, as she caught a deeply satisfied sigh from her guest, one that sounded far too close to the one he’d breathed above her before turning himself loose in her blood.

That sigh made Jen realize that maybe, just maybe, watching this was having an effect on him, too, and the tornado sirens in her head started to shriek. Staring at Tav’s face as she lost herself in that damn bite made Jen hyper aware of the man behind her, and far, far too aware of what was going on in her own body at the moment.

She had to shut this whole thing down.

This will not happen.

The blood? The biting? Fine. Understandable. Sex, intimacy, was different than feeding him with her blood. He didn’t need this to survive, and she wouldn’t open herself up to him like that without a damn good reason. Hell, no reason in the world could be good enough except the one that she knew with absolute certainty that she could not fucking allow.

Jen was so caught up in her own frantic thoughts that she didn’t notice how Astarion's mood shifted alongside camera perspective as it settled on his scars for the very first time.

The night time tryst, ending with Astarion feasting as Tav’s mouth fell open and her hand fell atop his carved up back, cut to black. Tav and her bleeding neck came to, bathed in the sight of Astarion as he soaked in the early morning light.

Jen always took a moment to admire this scene. It was one of her favorites, and had been her phone background until she had hastily swapped it out for a cat picture a week ago. There was something magical about seeing him standing in the sun, exposed to its warmth again while Tav took in the first sight of his scars, the first hint of him showing some vulnerability.

Right now, she just wanted this whole stupid night to end. She wanted to forget he existed, forget he had any damn effect on her, forget that the man was sitting at the computer behind her, likely as aroused as she was, and completely ok with that while she sat here being the lone bulwark between desire and disaster. 

‘Interesting scars. Where’d you get them?’

“It's a poem. A gift from Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. He composed and carved that one over the course of a night. He made a lot of revisions as he went.”

Nothing fucking mattered right now except the need to get through the scene and slam the door behind her, which is why when the arcana check failed, her stunned silence erupted out of her.

“Gods fucking damn it!”

“Excuse me?”

“I passed that check on the first playthrough which means now I have to restart this and sit through it again .”

She. Could. Not. Do. This. Would not do this.

“So quit being so sour and enjoy it this time,” Astarion snapped back, voice raised to match hers. She whipped her chair around to face him and found he was already staring at her. Their eyes locked onto each other.

“What?” she choked out. “With you sitting right behind me reveling in my discomfort? Fuck that.”

“I promise you that reveling in your discomfort is quite far from my mind right now, but, by the by, has it occurred to you, darling, that you might relax a little if you found a way to let off some steam?”

“Has it occurred to you that maybe I would if you weren’t in my fucking house?”

“Gods, if you prefer to be a prude about it, I do know what a locked door means, my dear.”

“The locked door doesn’t fucking matter when I know damn well you can hear and smell everything anyway!”

He made an exasperated noise, tossing his arms up in frustration.

“Why does it matter if I can hear and smell it?”

“Because at that point you might as well be in the fucking room and I will not let you in that close, Astarion.”

His mouth drew into a thin line as his eyes flashed across the room at her.

“Because you still don’t trust me, do you?”

“Of course I trust you!”

“You put on an excellent act, but clearly you don’t and I don’t understand why.”

She balked at his accusation. No way in hell would she have let him bite her if she didn’t trust him. Surely he could see that. She did not know his game right now, but she was done with this. Done being accused of shit that wasn’t true. He needed to just back the fuck off and leave it alone because she was not going to let herself get hurt again.

“Because you’re going to hurt me,” she roared at him.

Astarion drew back as if she’d struck him. Silence fell over the room as a pair of startled cats fled. Astarion stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time, or seeing something he’d never noticed before.

Ice trickled down her spine as she watched his face change and realized how that sentence had hit him.

“I didn’t mean that!”

“But you did,” he sneered angrily, getting to his feet.

“Not like you think I did! I know you won’t. I know you won’t! But you exist so I’m going to get hurt! That’s all I meant!”

But he wasn’t listening any longer. He was striding down the hall. The hurt in his voice as he turned back to look at her wrung her heart. 

“So. That’s it, is it? I could have hurt you any night I damn well pleased. Gods, you were lying there begging me to, and I didn’t. Well, darling, I would hate to disappoint.”

He was through the hall and in the front foyer now. She was on her feet trailing after him helplessly.

“Astarion, please, wait! Let me explain what I meant.”

“Oh, no need. I am not some kind of monster and I won’t let you make me feel like one. I don’t need this. I have enough to torment myself with without you .”

The front door slammed and he was gone. Jen stared at it in the silence of the house, her angry heartbeat continuing on as though nothing had just happened.

What the hell had just happened?

She backed into the game room, stunned by the suddenness and ferocity of the argument, uncertain what she could possibly do to fix this. She glanced at the screen, still frozen on the image of Astarion with his face to the sun, scar exposed for her to see.

His scar.

Shit.

She’d been so fucking wrapped up in discomfort and rage that she’d failed to even consider how the end of this scene was going to hit him. Actually, physically seeing his scar on the screen in front of him, all of its bumps and ridges and the pain it must have caused him, and suddenly confronting it again now.

The reminder of what he’d been turned into, what he’d endured. An inescapable reminder of the monstrous, which he still carried, which she failed to see as she accused him, in his mind, of being a monster in disguise.

Jen could feel that visceral panic rising again as pain blossomed in her chest, but she did not have time for it. She had to go find Astarion. Fucking hell, she had to find him. What if he did something dumb and it was all her fault?

Jen shed the robe she was wearing atop her tee shirt, trading it for a coat. She grabbed her car keys and hurried out the front door to try to go after him.

Notes:

Next chapter will be Astarion's POV once more as he leaves to process what he's learned on his own.

Chapter 18: Home to Roost

Summary:

Astarion's left to go make his own way in the world. He deserves a treat for what he's put up with, and he's more than happy to help himself. A new acquaintance shows him a nifty little app that he realizes will finally tell him what the hells is wrong with Jen.

Trigger warning:
-This chapter gets pretty intensely focused on loss and grief

18. Home to Roost

It had taken a few days of being out and about with his ungracious, crotchety, useless little host but Astarion had decided he’d had just about enough. Enough of her attitude and enough introduction to the world around him both. It was high time he left that fetid little dump for better and brighter things.

Once he’d gotten far enough away from her home that he was sure she wouldn’t find him, he’d hailed a carriage with this ‘Uber’ app he’d discovered. The card Jen had allowed him to hang on to yesterday seemed to work just fine on it, so he’d not had any trouble getting a ride over to Woodbridge, where he decided he deserved a treat.

He’d noticed the lovely little building called a Nail Salon while he’d been out with Jen. She had immediately shot down his inquiry about going in, so naturally, he had looked up what it was once he was left to his own devices in the evening air.

While that particular one didn’t have any services specifically tailored to men, a second one not far off did, and it sounded wonderful. Luckily for him, they even had a fancy little system where he could select a time slot online, and he’d been able to confirm an appointment. It was an added benefit that Jen would never set foot in one of these places, so he was quite sure he was well hidden should she attempt to find him.

He could not believe how wrong he’d been about Jen, how well she’d managed to hide her true colors from him. Just went to show that you never could know for sure.

At least she’d given him enough to work with that he’d survive out on his own here. The hat, as much as he hated the damn thing, received all kinds of positive attention, so he’d begrudgingly donned it once again.

The ladies at the counter of the salon were no exception to this.

“Hello! Do you have an appointment?”

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Great! You can check in on the screen there please.”

Astarion looked down where the woman was indicating. It seemed to be another of these ubiquitous screen devices not unlike his phone, so he poked the screen where it said ‘Begin Check In’ and was pleased to find it easy to select himself and confirm that he was ready.

“We’ll be with you in a moment, sir, thank you. I love your hat and ears!”

“Thank you,” he replied, eyeing the seats along the window before selecting the least threadbare one.

Astarion watched the activity deep behind the counter in the salon proper, noting that none of the chairs were occupied by any men. He watched and listened in, bathing in the flow of life, the murmured snippets of drama, and the rush of heartbeats all around him.

This place was wonderful, full of gossip and people out enjoying themselves.

It made perfect sense why the little mud mephit hated this. She wouldn’t know fun if he beat her to death with it and this place positively glowed. It was almost exactly what he expected it to be; a salon as he understood it for patriars to get their hair done and gossip with each other, but for having your nails done instead. How novel!

“Alright, Mr. Ancunin, you’re up,” said a voice behind the counter. Astarion stood and made his way over to the women who called his name.

“Hello,” he said, inclining his head in greeting and watching her.

“My name is Jeanette and I’ll be your technician today. If you’ll follow me please.”

He did so, examining her as they proceeded back to a chair. Jeanette was a lovely looking woman with caramel skin and dark hair. She was heavier set than he tended to prefer, but she wore it well, wearing an outfit that he suspected slimmed her down considerably to the casual observer. He sat in the seat indicated to him.

“Jeanette, thank you, my dear.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile that stretched up into her eyes. She took to his words and smile well, it seemed. “What can I do for you? Standard male manicure?”

“Yes, I think so, but it is my first time having one done.”

“You’re going to love it,” she said, taking his hands in hers for a look. “My God, you’ve got such good nails already! You’ve never had a manicure done?”

“Oh, I usually take care of it myself.”

“Well, we’re going to pamper you then. Let’s get those nails soaking first. Were you just going to want a clear coat or were you interested in any color today?”

“Clear is fine,” he replied as he allowed Jeanette to place his fingers into a bowl of deliciously warm water.

This was nice. Why the hells wouldn’t someone want to come get fussed over? Little idiot.

“How’s your holiday season going,” asked Jeanette.

“Oh I’ve been better,” he sighed in response. “Had a bit of an argument with my roommate and decided to nip out and have my nails done.”

“Aw,” said Jeannette with just the right amount of sincerity that he could almost believe she cared and wasn’t just looking to make small talk.

“She’s being an absolute bitch for no reason,” he continued, watching closely. He noticed Jeanette’s head tilt when he revealed that his roommate was in fact a woman, making mental note that it must have been unusual to have a roommate of the opposite gender here.

“What’d she do?”

“Well for starters, she’s being terribly judgmental of me. I had the nerve to be vulnerable around her, and she threw it right back in my face.”

Jeanette sucked a breath in and shook her head, taking his nails out of the water to begin cleaning them.

“You do not deserve that, honey.”

“No, I don’t,” he sniffed. “Anyway, I’m new in this state so she’s been helping me get set up, but just because I’ve not got myself settled doesn’t give her the right to treat me like dirt.”

“I thought you were foreign from your accent. You must be from the UK.”

“Yes,” he said, not recalling where that was, but rolling with it. “She was so very nice at first, but it’s like a switch just flipped tonight. I can’t figure it out.”

“Hm,” Jeanette wondered. “Do you have a girlfriend? Maybe she's jealous.”

Astarion thought about this for a moment. No girlfriend, of course, but Jen may have picked up on his attachment to Tav somewhere in their playing sessions. That didn’t seem quite right, though. She’d snarled that he was going to hurt her, though that wasn’t something he was going to repeat to scrumptious little Jeanette.

“No,” he said. “No lover.”

Jeanette continued musing while she trimmed his nails.

“Does your roommate have a boyfriend? Maybe he’s jealous and she’s taking it out on you.”

“You know,” he responded, “I haven’t seen one but she does have an awful lot of mens clothing at her house. I have wondered what she’s hiding from me…”

“Mmmmm,” Jeanette said, tilting her head in suspicion. “That girl must be hiding something then. Have you looked through her socials?”

Astarion frowned, unsure what the woman meant by socials.

“I don’t think she uses them.”

“Well, what about her phone? You could always look through that, too.”

“What should I be looking for if I were to go through her phone? I’m rather new to the idea, but I like it.”

Jeanette paused and gave him a funny look as she got out the cuticle sticks.

“My parents didn’t approve of technology,” he lied, hoping technology was close enough to magic that this, too, was a thing. It seemed he was right, as Jeanette was now nodding along.

“You got a phone, honey?”

“I do,” he responded, pulling it out of his pocket with his free hand.

“Unlock it for me and I’ll show you. She’d probably be texting any kind of man in her life through a messaging app. Do you know what kind of phone she’s got?”

“Same as this one,” Astarion responded as he watched as Jeanette swipe the screen up and found an app within what looked to be another app. He realized suddenly that she’d actually moved it out of what seemed to be a whole group of apps under one icon.

“This wasn’t on your home screen, so I put it there now. That one is the messaging app. You can use it to send text messages. She’s probably got that same one or one similar that’ll have all of her messages stored in it. I’d start there.”

“Ah,” he replied, peering down at the phone with interest. “Thank you, darling.”

Jeanette chuckled.

“You’re welcome. I’d snoop around her texts, but don’t let her catch you in her phone. She sounds like a real witch.”

He pocketed his phone again. It seemed that perhaps these text messages worked like sending spells, and if he had the phone that belonged to the mysterious missing man, perhaps he could find a trace of them somewhere in it.

“So,” he said, filing this away for when he had use of his hands again, “Enough about me. How is your holiday going?”

Jeanette warmed to the topic quickly as she worked, finishing with his cuticles before buffing his nails. Astarion listened with great interest as she recounted how her holiday shopping was going. What presents she’d bought for her grown child and her grandchildren. She had thoughts about a holiday drink at a place called Starbucks that she said he should try and talked about how the weather just seemed to get less cold every year down here in Texas.

She asked him where he was from, and he told her it was a smaller city called The Gate, and made up a story about it being a sleepy little place that he’d wanted to escape from, due in no small part to his overbearing parents’ disapproval of technology.

By the time Jeanette was painting the matte finish on his nails for him, a sensation he found he greatly enjoyed, he was feeling much better about his coming evening. Especially getting into these so-called text messages.

When she was done, and ushered him up front to pay, he did so with the borrowed card from Jen once more, leaving a nice big tip on Jen’s credit account for his helpful new acquaintance. Feeling far more like himself once more with his fabulously finished nails, he walked out into the deepening evening air and took a good look around.

It seemed as though some kind of celebration was going on around a large tree just down the way from him. A crowd had gathered around it, watching some kind of stage performance, and Astarion knew an opportunity when he saw one.

He strolled over and shuffled his way through, helping himself to the contents of a few bags and pockets surreptitiously. He paused when a kind of countdown started, watching with fascination as the gathered people all chanted numbers backward to one. Suddenly, the tree lit up in a dazzling display of light and color, and the music from the stage show began again, this time with all the lights in the area flashing in time with the entertainment.

This kept the crowd’s attention, so he liberated a couple more wallets before glancing back across the large flat parking lot to a store with a large bullseye for an icon. It looked like another large general store and this seemed like a good target to go looking for the sunscreen that he’d need before the sun rose tomorrow.

After that was settled, he could figure out the burning mystery of the missing man through the ‘texts’ with any luck.

Astarion spent some time wandering the store, awed at the sheer variety of goods within. He got at least two more comments on his hat and yet another one from a bashful young lady and her giggling friend asking him about cosplay again.

He’d discovered that Jen apparently had no taste in sunscreen either, which was honestly not a surprise. She’d picked what was clearly the plonk version. He, on the other hand, made sure to select one that smelled far better and claimed to be less damaging for his skin. It may have been more expensive, but that didn’t matter since he wasn’t the one who’d be paying for it.

One of the wonderful ladies who liked his hat would - he’d stolen both of their wallets for approving of this stupid apparel. Once his revenge was complete, he’d recalled the warnings about cameras, and finding plenty of them in the tangled nest of metal above him, he’d determined not to try his luck any further in here. He was unsure how quickly those cameras could call the guard down on him and he was unwilling to find out.

Having paid for his sunscreen, and a small, fashionable pack in which to carry it and the wallets, he left the store and slid toward one of the restaurants back by the tree across the way. The crowd had largely died out now, with the entertainment being over, so he sat himself out front on one of the benches to dig into these messages he hoped would be on his phone.

The evening had bled fully into the darkness of a winter night by now, lit only by the small, twinkling lights in all the trees and large, illuminated ‘gifts’ and shiny orbs scattered around Woodbridge as decorations.

This was the moment he was truly looking forward to, his need for money and sun protection solved. Time to see what Jen was hiding from him, the disagreeable little hag.

He tapped the app Jeanette had shown him and giggled with excitement as lines upon lines of text appeared on his screen. These seemed to be from different people, but at the very top was one labelled ‘Jen’ that he guessed was exactly what he was looking for.

He tapped on this, and it opened up more lines of text. Each one was in its own little bubble of sorts, and he deduced that they all must have been sent as individual messages. Dozens of messages lined the left hand side of the screen as he scrolled upward through the history, not bothering to read any until he started seeing them on the right hand side of the screen, too.

It must be two-way then. Astarion picked the last of the right side messages to read first.

‘Hey babe, are you ok going out to dinner with my coworkers tonight?’

On the left below this was a response in the darker colored bubble.

‘Yep! Call me when you’re on your way home and I’ll be ready when you get here. Love youuuuuu!’

Ah ha! So this phone had belonged to a lover. He knew it! What had she done to this poor man? He skipped down to the next message.

‘Hey Jer. I miss you. I feel stupid typing this but the therapist said it might help. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get through this. Everyone’s just drowning me in sympathy and I hate it. I just want to be left alone. I’m angry all the time and when I’m not angry, I’m just tired. Wabbajack misses you, too. He keeps walking around the house yelling for you and I tell him you’ll be back soon because I don’t want to admit that you’re gone. Love you. Miss you.’

Astarion swallowed, eyes moving down to the next message with growing dread.

‘Hey Jer. I still miss you. I wish we could watch your stupid TV shows and I could fuss at you to put on the sleep timer so it doesn’t wake me up. Gods, I even miss your stupid snoring. At least people aren’t bringing up the crash any more. I’ve been having nightmares about it and my panic attacks are back. Migraines have been worse, too. Not sure if it’s from the concussion or stress. Boss is understanding at least. Gods I miss you. I just want a hug. Love you always.’

Astarion scrolled slowly through the long list of messages, feeling his heart lurch again with each one. Jen hadn’t left a lover or run one off, as he had fully expected to find. No. Jen was a widow.

Astarion scrolled back up to the last message from this ‘Jer,’ noting the date above it. He put this into the phone, asking the internet how long ago it was. Just over a year.

He started flashing back to the first year after Tav had passed, recalling the desperate rage and hurt he’d carried with him from town to town as he tore his way through the countryside back toward Baldur’s Gate where he descended into a months long bender.

Gods, and Jen was barely a year out. It’s why the house was a mess. It’s why half of it was untouched. It's why the clothes in the dresser were different, why she had two of everything but only used one. And why it was all still there, frozen in time.

And he’d been oblivious to all of this. He’d slowly started taking over all of this ‘Jer’s’ things. He’d dug through the closet and the dresser, claiming an item here or there if it looked useful. Gods, he’d have murdered himself had he caught himself in the act of stealing his dead lover's things.

Astarion stared at the phone, heart heavy with the weight of understanding and remembrance. Tav was gone, and decades on it would still bring him to his knees in sorrow. Jen was hanging on by a very thin thread, still clinging to everything she could of her lover.

Astarion sat paralyzed for a while longer, staring at the phone without truly seeing it any more, stuck remembering the early years of losing Tav all too viscerally. And Jen was barely a year out. Gods damn it all.

He needed to go back. Even if he was going to be kicked out again, she should at least have his phone back first with all these messages.

He poked the blank box at the bottom of the text screen tentatively, sighing in relief when it worked just like the internet search box.

“Hello, darling. Does this go to you directly?”

He looked at the screen for a moment then hit the arrow button that had appeared next to it.

Astarion’s phone began to buzz in his hand almost instantly and he found himself staring at the screen helplessly. It said Jen on it and there was a red button and a green button, but poking them didn’t seem to do anything. The phone stopped vibrating after another few moments.

Alright, sending that had clearly done something. Perhaps he’d try another message. Before he could, however, he saw a new one appear below the one he’d previously sent.

“Put your finger on the green circle and swipe toward the middle.”

The phone began to buzz again soon afterward and he did as the message instructed. Jen’s frantic voice came from the device.

“Where are you?”

“I- I’m at Woodbridge.”

“Woodbridge? Fucking how? You know what, never mind. Are you ok?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I went to the nail salon, saw some kind of tree ceremony, and then went in a store called Target, but they’re closed now, and I’ve decided I would like to come home.”

He heard her sigh.

“You said it’s the Target in Woodbridge?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll come get you, just sit tight and watch for my car, ok?”

“Alright.”

The screen flashed at him, saying that the call was ended. Astarion stood up and glanced across the almost empty parking lot back at the store he’d left for fear of cameras and guards. None had come after him and it looked almost entirely deserted now, so he made his way over to wait.

He found it far easier to sate his curiosity than it was to consider what was about to happen when his host showed back up, so he continued scrolling backward in time through message after message between this Jer fellow and Jen. Lots of -- checking in, little blue links that took him to funny cats more frequently than anything else, and clever little pictures with sarcastic words on them. He stopped when the subject matter began to get interesting, found himself unexpectedly uncomfortable, and began to wonder what in the bloody hells he was going to say to Jen.

He thought over and over, trying to recall if anything anyone had ever said helped at all when Tav had died. Failing to think of anything, he tried crafting a nice apology for... what exactly? He spent the rest of his wait wrestling with words, and thought he had at least something he could use when he saw a car approach.

Whatever he had come up with was useless because Jen was talking the moment she stepped out of her car.

“I’m so sorry,” she said before he could begin his carefully rehearsed speech. “I should have been more careful with my words and I wasn’t and I know you’re not going to hurt me on purpose and I swear I trust you and-”

“I took it the worst way possible, my dear,” he managed to break in, but she continued her nonstop apology.

“I let my emotions get the better of me and I should have known better. I know better, and somehow I still keep lashing out at you and you don’t deserve that, you’re right, and-”

He watched her continue talking with bemusement, opening his mouth once or twice when he thought she was done, but shutting it again as she just kept going.

“I didn’t even think about how you’d feel seeing yourself in that scene, with, well, with your scars and I was self centered and-”

“Darling,” he cut in, finally. “Stop.”

She shut her mouth and looked at him, face so very earnest and concerned. Looking at her again now, knowing the truth, he wasn’t sure that she had a malicious bone in her, and he felt guilty for ever thinking that she had done what she did to hurt him tonight on purpose.

“Let’s just go home," he sighed. "You can apologize as much as you want on the way.”

He'd intended that last sentence as a light joke, but it seemed to have gone over her head. She nodded silently and turned to get in the driver’s seat of her car, staring mutely down at a drop of blood next to her nail before sticking the finger in her mouth and sucking on it distractedly. Astarion swallowed against the hunger at the sight of it, focusing instead on the fact that she’d apparently ripped the skin off at least three more cuticles since he’d left earlier. 

He sat down beside her and fastened his seat belt, waiting for her to start speaking again. She remained quiet, eyes ahead of her on the road as she began the drive back home. The silence began to get uncomfortable after a few minutes, but Astarion found himself at a loss for how to break it. He finally settled for the only thing left on his mind.

“You’re a widow. You’re so young.”

He watched her freeze before she blinked and set her jaw.

“You read the texts, didn’t you,” she responded coolly, not even trying to deny it.

“Yes. I guess they’re like a sending spell but written down, so I saw the messages you sent to this phone.”

“To my husband,” she corrected, voice steely. “Jeremy. How’d you find them?”

“The lady in the salon told me about it, to check there to find out why you-”

“Of fucking course they did,” she growled. “Gods I hate salons.”

“I was trying to understand why you, well, why you were acting so odd. I didn’t realize you were using this phone to try to talk with him.”

She turned her head and gave him a puzzled look.

“Oh. No, it’s not that I was literally talking to him with it after he was dead. The phone doesn’t connect to the afterlife. Not like that anyway,” she muttered, eyes staring into the distance for a moment before settling back on the road.

“I texted him after he died because I missed him. I missed talking to him and sending him memes and all that. The therapist said it might help and I guess it did a little.”

“Are memes the funny pictures?”

She smiled briefly and sighed.

“Yes.”

He watched her features fall back into sadness before her brow turned down in concern.

“How far back did you read?”

It was Astarion’s turn to shift in his seat. After he’d made it through all the unanswered messages she’d sent over the past year, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from digging deeper. He’d been handed a hidden piece of his host and he’d devoured as much of it as he could until he hit messages that had made him realize that maybe he shouldn’t keep reading the words not meant for him.

It seemed it was one thing when it was the journal of a long dead stranger, or just another person he’d purloined a purse from. It felt different when he knew his host, when he could picture her as she wrote them.

“I suppose it doesn’t really matter,” she muttered with an unhappy scowl. “I should have known better than to leave anything on that phone before I handed it to you. Should have factory reset the damn thing, but he’s got pictures of us on there that I didn’t want to lose.”

Astarion caught the scent of salt and realized that Jen had tears running down her face. She hadn’t made a noise, just carried on talking as though it wasn’t even happening. Ignoring it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just wanted to know why you’ve been so defensive. I understand now.”

“Do you?”

Astarion watched the angry lines scribble themselves across her face, her hands tighten on the steering wheel, and the rage that had risen suddenly in her eyes slowly fade back to emptiness as she stared into the night in front of them.

Gods, he knew that feeling too well, that aching void deep inside that grew and grew until it was all there was left of his heart. He remembered all the amusements and temporary pleasures he tried to fill it with, the things he’d been programmed to mindlessly seek so, so long ago. How awful he’d felt afterwards.

And the never-ending rage. He’d only escaped it because he knew Tav would have hated it for him and that had set him on his path again.

“Darling,” he said, swallowing, “You can’t live like this. This isn’t living.”

“No,” she growled, voice thick. “It’s surviving and it’s all I know how to do any more. Ever since that fucking idiot in the semi got to decide that his video was more important in that moment than my Jeremy was.

“And it’s not just him,” she hissed, voice choked with sadness and rage. “Two years before, we lost my father to a fucking bee sting. A decade before that, my mother to cancer. My best friend in college to a pulmonary embolism while mom was busy dying. My high school sweetheart to another fucking car crash senior year.

“It’s not just Jeremy. It’s everyone, Astarion. Every single ‘most important person in my life’ just disappears one day. Mom’s the only one I had any warning on, and even that was only a few months. Stomach cancer is aggressive.

“I am through with having this rug ripped out from under me. Done .”

She looked over at him, her eyes hollow.

He knew it completely then, knew the reason for the walls, the distance, the denial. Fear.

She had locked herself up tight, refused to let anyone else in because if she dared to, she was opening herself back up to the pain of losing them. Gods, just like him, really. He’d lost so many before… when he had to…

“It’s just me and the cats, Astarion. It wasn’t supposed to be this way but it is.” She sighed deeply. “And then you showed up and it took all of a week of putting up with me to drive you off.”

He watched her exhale, shake out her shoulders, and put the mask back on before she spoke up again.

“Why are you here? Surely you must have learned something about what’s going on by now.”

Astarion stared at that guarded face as her eyes focused on the road ahead. They shared yet another burden, but he didn’t know how to help her with this one, not when he was still trying to figure it out himself.

The only thing that kept him going was the fact that he knew he could get Tav back. He couldn’t make that happen for Jen with her husband or anyone else she’d lost, but maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe she just needed a quest, any quest, as much as he had when this whole thing started decades ago. She certainly needed a friend and a little help.

Tav would have mother henned the poor woman to death had she been here. He wished she was. He missed her worse than ever now and she was so very much better at this.

Astarion cleared his throat.

“I think we need to talk. As it turns out, I, well, I know how I got here. And why I’m here. And I think I’m going to need your help.”

Notes:

Tough subject matter in this one. Stretch out and get a cup of your fav drink if you need it. Things will get lighter soon, and these two will start to rely on each other a little more now that their secrets are coming out at last.

Chapter 19: The Quest for Tav

Summary:

Astarion explains what he's doing in this realm, finally. Unfortunately, the nature of the realm he's portaled into has left some unexpected difficulties, but that's a problem for tomorrow, after they've had some time to decompress.

19. The Quest for Tav

Jen cleared her sore throat, raising an eyebrow at the nervous elf in the passenger seat beside her.

“You mean to tell me that the rogue I pulled out of the woods wasn’t entirely honest with me when we first met? Color me shocked.”

She passed him a small smile and rolled her eyes pointedly. His shoulders relaxed and he met her sarcasm with a half-smile of his own.

“So you know why you’re here?”

“I think so, yes.”

“You think so or you know so?”

“Well… it’s a bit open to interpretation.”

“What did you do?”

“What! Why would you- alright, fine. I, er, made a deal to get something that I wanted.”

“If you tell me that you made a deal with a gods damned devil-”

“Not a devil.”

“Thank fuck,” she sighed.

“Worse.”

“Worse?”

“Her name is Baba Yaga.”

“Excuse me? The mythological witch with the chicken feet hut?”

“You know her,” he asked, looking impressed.

“Heard of her, yes. Enough stories to know you shouldn’t have made a damn deal with her, if she’s anything like the one I’ve heard myths about.”

“I had to. I had nowhere else to turn. The devils were done with us after we killed one of them to get out of the last deal and… I needed Tav back.”

Jen felt her heart lurch and her breath hitch at the note of sorrow in his voice.

Oh shit.

She saw exactly where this was going and why he was willing to tell her now.

“When you say you needed her back, what happened to her,” Jen asked quietly, tentatively.

“I’m not sure where to start. I…”

“Tell me about Tav. After the Nether Brain, what did you and Tav do?”

“We went adventuring together, all over Faerûn. Tav was always the one with wanderlust, always the one with a quest, and now that we were together, I became her new quest. She was determined to help me walk in the sun again. We traveled looking for anything that could help.

“Gale spent time researching between teaching classes. Wyll and Karlach kept an ear to the ground in Avernus, even, until Karlach’s engine was fixed and they returned to the sword coast to go be heroes. Shadowheart and Lae’zel were off finding themselves and fighting their own battles, but Gale would send a letter now and again with anything useful he’d discovered.

“Any time Tav and I thought we had a lead, it always turned out to be disappointing. Everything we turned up seemed like smoke and mirrors because I was not the first vampire to ever go searching for a cure. Any artifact of use was jealously hoarded by vampire lords across the continent, vampire lords who took particular displeasure with the rogue spawn and his lover coming to call.”

Astarion paused with a deep sigh as Jen turned the car into her neighborhood.

“Decades of frustration,” he said, beginning the tale again, “but at least we had each other. I don’t know when she got the idea. If I knew, I’d have gone back and told her it was idiotic, that it wasn’t worth what she was willing to pay. We were deep in the wilds when we found that decrepit temple and the damned scroll.

“It didn’t have any writing on it, but she insisted we bring it along anyway, said she could feel something in the parchment. We sent it along to Gale in Waterdeep. When we found our way back there in the course of our journeys, he explained that the parchment was blessed by Oghma with the power to manifest what was written within, but that the user had to take great care; the parchment would extract a price in the name of balance and he couldn’t be sure what, wasn’t sure anyone would know until they tried to use it.

“Of course, as a bard, Tav was enraptured by this idea of 'composing the future' as she put it. I should have known she meant to do something stupid with that bloody thing.

“She wrote something on it and from that day forward started to age. I watched as Tav, an elf, aged hundreds of years in ten. I couldn’t read the parchment because she used some bloody trick of hers that made it where only she and the gods could read it. I don’t know what she tried to do with it or if it even worked.”

His voice cracked in frustration.

“We should have had more time together, centuries together. We deserved more after what we went through.” He collected himself for a moment before he continued. “But, as she was fond of singing, ‘the clock won’t stop, and this is what we get.’

“When she knew it was time, as elves do, she figured she could get away with one more trick. Ever since Auntie Ethel, she’d taken to bargaining with hags. Said she liked them better than devils, felt more affinity for the fey. Well, she traded that bloody parchment to one for a wish for each of us. I heard her wish; I know exactly what she said.”

Jen listened, waited for him to speak it as they sat in the car in her driveway.

“‘Upon my death, I wish to return to life immediately.”

“I suppose she assumed Corellon wasn’t in a sending elf souls back mood. For my part, I wished to find her once she reincarnated. I figured between her wish and mine, it was only a brief matter of time. After she passed, I waited. I wanted to give her time to return and mature, to remember, to find each other again. But I couldn’t find her and she never found me, and that’s when I realized something must have gone wrong.”

He stopped talking and sat, stony faced, staring at the blank expanse of the garage door in front of them.

“Let’s go inside,” Jen suggested, cracking the car door open and braving against the nighttime chill. Astarion didn’t move at first. He sat still, staring at the garage door in front of him, lost in his own thoughts. She stepped out and shut her door, pausing and staring at him through the windshield. He still hadn’t moved. She walked around the front of the car.

“Hey,” she said, opening his door to try to shake him out of his sudden stillness. “Let’s get inside out of the cold. You don’t have to tell me the rest right now if it’s too much.”

“It won’t do to keep it to myself,” he said, finally leaving the seat. “Won’t help fix it.”

Jen chewed on what he’d told her so far as they walked up the sidewalk to the front door. It explained part of what was going on, anyway. He was looking for Tav. What it didn’t explain was how the hell he wound up portaled here to Earth. She had a guess or two that she knew where this was going since he’d not mentioned Baba Yaga again yet.

Astarion walked straight to his armchair and collapsed into it. Jen caught the sound of Baldur’s Gate music and returned to the computer room. Both computer screens were frozen exactly as they had been at the moment the argument finally flared into life. Neither of them had bothered to shut the game down when they ran off into the night.

Jen looked at him on the screen, facing the sunlight. It must have been unbelievable standing in that warmth and light after two hundred years of darkness. The start of a life with Tav, it sounded like, a life that was then unexpectedly cut short.

She shut down both games and returned to the living room, sitting on the couch, leaning against the armrest near Astarion’s chair. He said nothing, just continued to stare into the empty room, fidgeting with something in his pocket. It became apparent over a few silent moments that she’d have to nudge him into speaking again.

“So how did you end up here, then?”

“I may have actively started hunting and killing hags when Tav never materialized. My Gurr friends were quite helpful for this. I found the witch who’d granted us the supposed wishes first of all, destroyed her and her spore circle, and took that stupid parchment back. And I didn’t stop there. I got so good at hag hunting that I drew the attention of Baba Yaga.”

He cleared his throat.

“We had a nice little chat and here I am.”

Well, that’s glossing over it.

“Surely she didn’t just show up and kick you through a portal with no warning?”

“No, not exactly,” he admitted, tilting his head back and forth. “We made a deal.”

“What deal,” she asked, voice low and full of suspicion.

“I kept the memory of it,” he said, pulling a translucent stone out of his pocket. “Learned that the devil is in the details, so to speak, from our orthon friend Yurgir. But when I arrived here, well, magic doesn’t work.”

Jen cringed.

“Shit.”

“Yes. I think I recall most of it, but, idiot that I was, I had assumed this stone was going to work.”

“You couldn’t have known you’d wind up somewhere without magic. It’s not your fault.”

“This whole bloody thing is my fault! If I had just quit longing for the sun, none of this would have happened.”

She may not have been good at reading people, but she understood a man on the edge of a breakdown when she saw him. His eyes focused on nothing. His lip quivering slightly. The lines of his face long and tense as he fought against it. He was perilously close to breaking down, and Jen had no idea how to help him if he did.

“We can fix this somehow,” she said. “I’m sure. What do you remember of the contract?”

“Baba Yaga talked in ways that made no sense. That’s why I saved the memory.”

“Anything is helpful to start, Astarion. You must have some sense of the goal of the portal at least. You’d said when I first met you that you expected to end up in Evereska?”

“Merely because that’s the most likely place to find an elf in Faerûn, so it would have made sense that Tav would be there.”

Population density as first try made sense to her.

“The portal was supposed to take you to Tav?”

“Yes, and no.” He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “Baba Yaga found me in the wilds while I was hunting another hag down. I was ready to kill her, too, or more likely die trying, but she said she’d come to balance the scales.

“Said that both wishes from her follower were indeed real and that I’d simply not been specific enough.”

“You didn’t specify a time on that wish, did you,” Jen asked, thinking back to her own D&D campaigns. “You wished to find Tav when she reincarnated, but Tav’s an elf. She was going to keep reincarnating so you never know which one that hag twisted the strands of fate for.”

Astarion smiled at Jen weakly.

“I came to the same conclusion, my dear. Baba Yaga offered to help me if I’d leave her coven alone. Offered to send me someplace I could find Tav.”

“Astarion,” said Jen carefully, sinking feeling in her chest, “You don’t think you got sent here to find Tav in the video game, do you?”

“I worried about that,” he said, his bleak smile fading into sadness again, “but I don’t think that’s it. It wouldn’t make sense with the rest of the bargain and the rest of the bargain is why I’m going to need help, I think.”

Jen eyed him.

“I’m not making any deals with the fey.”

“You don’t have to. I already did that. When we find Tav, all you’ve got to do is tell her for me.”

“Uh, what?”

“I won’t be able to. Baba Yaga swore I’d find her in the realm she sent me to, but in exchange, I wouldn’t be able to tell her when I found her.”

“And the monkey’s paw curled. Fucking hell, Astarion. I didn’t realize you were an idiot.”

“Only when Tav’s involved,” he mumbled stubbornly.

“What were you planning to do when you found her, then?”

“Win her over, of course.”

“How are you even going to know it’s her?”

“Ah, yes. That's less obvious. And I did think to ask. In fact, I traded that bloody parchment away for the answer to that question.”

“Shame you traded that parchment. If Tav wrote it with illusory script, then maybe Tav would be able to read it.”

Astarion stared at her, a look of horror growing in his eyes. Jen winced as he groaned and threw himself back into the chair.

“Sorry. But it wouldn’t work here anyway most likely. So maybe it was for the best after all.”

“Yes,” he sneered, “that would have helped. No wonder the crone wanted it. I didn’t think I had any more use for it since I couldn’t even read it. Baba Yaga could though. I suppose the old bat had truesight. Said that I’d know Tav by three signs and the third of these was the fulfillment of the script Tav had penned on that parchment so long ago.

“I don’t know what Tav wrote on the bloody parchment, though, and no amount of threatening Baba Yaga would make her read it. She gave me a bloody riddle instead.”

“Oh boy. Ok. Do you recall that at least?”

“Yes. Puzzled over it for too long.”

He stared off into space and began to recite.

“‘Beauty taken for beauty returned
Darkness to bring forth light
Balance the scales of time and space
Betwixt the two set right.’”

He looked back at Jen as he stopped.

“That’s…”

“Inscrutable,” Astarion grumbled. “And it gets worse. That’s just the parchment. She had the whole bloody contract in riddle form but I can’t remember the details without this damn stone.”

His hand clenched tightly around it, and Jen got the distinct sense that he was willing it to just work. She sat silently, watching him, hoping against hope that it suddenly would. But it seemed to be an empty hope.

“Bloody hells,” he snarled, cramming the stone back into his pocket, jaw tight.

Jen sat nearby feeling useless. The riddle was probably not inscrutable, but her mind was shot tonight. Too much had happened all in a single day, in the past few hours. Too much emotion. Too much everything for either of them to process all at once. Right now, they needed rest.

She was ready to crash, but she could see in her companion’s steely gaze that he was wound tight, lost in his head again after relaying the story to her.

Almost on the edge of panic.

Jen blinked.

He’d soothed her out of a panic attack once already. Maybe she could try to return the favor. There was no way she’d be able to just scoop him up like he had, but what else had he done? She thought about it for a moment, casting herself back to the night he’d held her close. He’d traced the lines of her hair and face with his fingers, too, and that had felt wonderful. Grounded her again.

So maybe all it would take was just a gentle touch and nearness?

“Hey,” she said.

Astarion rendered his face carefully blank and turned to look at her.

“Sit here.”

She patted the couch next to her. Astarion continued to stare, eyes empty. Just as empty as she’d felt driving home earlier.

“C’mon. I’m not the one that bites,” she chided gently. He didn’t crack a smile, but his stare looked a little less vacant. “Please?”

He sighed, but got up and sat on the couch beside her.

“No more talk about this tonight. No more riddles. No more loss. No more beating ourselves up over the past.”

Jen dug a small cushion out from behind her and put it on her lap.

“It’s been a long day for both of us and I’m exhausted. Lay down here, I’ll introduce you to trash TV, and then we’ll come at it with fresh minds together.”

He stared at her, emotion suddenly back in his face again. He had his head tilted, brows quirked, looking positively mystified.

“You want to cuddle?”

“This hardly counts,” she started to argue.

Stop.

That was the last thing either of them needed, even a tiny little argument about something as inane as a definition. 

“Call it what you want. Are you taking me up on this or not?”

“Can I get my face mask on first?”

“Yes. Get your face mask on, lay your head here, and I’m even willing to play with your hair if you find that kind of thing soothing.”

His face finally bent back into the ghost of a smile.

“Dangerous offer, darling.”

Didn’t she know it.

“What’s trash TV,” he asked as he got up to prepare.

“You’ll like it,” she muttered. As a rule, she didn’t, but there were a few shoes that she found tolerable enough. Her husband had been the one to find them hilarious. Something about watching people stumble through shitty social situations stressed her out, but he had found it relaxing. So did a lot of the world, judging by the amount of the crap out there.

After a few minutes, Astarion slid back to the couch with the steaming electric kettle in one hand, and a whole bath organizer full of washcloths, towels, creams, and lotions in the other. He was already wearing his mask.

“I thought you were just getting your mask on,” she said, eyeing the assortment of beauty products warily.

“You need one, too,” he announced, crouching in front of her and squeezing the mask into his hand, looking up at her expectantly. She groaned.

“Yes, alright, if you think it helps.”

“Being pampered always helps.”

“If that’s what you call this torture,” she muttered back.

Jen held perfectly still as he proceeded to paint her face with the mask before flopping himself onto the couch and settling his head on the pillow in her lap.

The weight of his head on the pillow made her hesitate, made her wonder how it was that she could have an idea like this and not fully grasp the reality of what it meant until it was happening.

Jen looked down at the face in her lap. He had his eyes closed, which was a blessing because she might have chickened out at this point otherwise. Instead, she found herself examining the rest of his face without that arresting gaze holding her attention. Her eyes traced his laugh lines and the small scar beside his lips, visible even through the mask he’d put on. How those damn curls framed it all, the pointy ears poking out between them.

He cleared his throat impatiently and fidgeted, eyes still closed. How he managed to sound like inconvenienced nobility with a throat clear alone, she wasn't sure, but of course he'd be the one to manage it.

Fucking endeariating.

She had this. This was easy.

Jen exhaled and ran a tentative finger along the edge of his hairline, gaining confidence as his eyelids fluttered and his chest rose and fell in a silent sigh. His shoulders sagged into the cushions beneath him as the tension left his frame, tension she’d not truly noticed until she saw it start to melt away. Jen watched fascinated as the lines of his face smoothed themselves under her touch.

She looked at his curls and swallowed, brain nagging her to touch them. To see how soft they were. They’d been so soft against her cheek the other night.

Before she could tell herself why this was a bad idea yet again, she slid her fingers through them gently and was rewarded by a contented little wiggle and another sigh from the man in her lap. She held her breath and continued to run her fingers through his hair, breathing again when she realized that absolutely nothing bad was happening.

No awkwardness. Just contentment.

Not only that, while she was loath to admit it, the face mask he insisted on painting her with was actually helping her face not feel quite so puffy from the tears earlier, too.

“Can I put the show on,” she asked softly, continuing to trace gentle fingers through his hair and along the edge of his face.

“What is it about?”

“Real people being dramatic idiots on a very expensive boat.”

“Oh,” he said, opening his eyes with interest and smiling up at her. She stared down at him, still completely captivated by the novelty of the moment. He waved a hand imperiously and settled further into the pillow, tilting his head and turning his gaze to the screen. “That does sound fun. Go ahead.”

Jen put Below Deck on as Astarion shifted his weight to get more comfortable. Both of them looked up as they heard the thunk of a cat traversing the shelves above them. Eva stood on the back of the couch for a moment before she stepped cautiously down onto Astarion’s chest.

Jen’s eyes went wide in surprise. Astarion, for his part, seemed just as shocked. Apart from his head turning just enough so that he could see the cat, he stayed perfectly still.

“Well,” he whispered as Eva decided to make herself a comfortable little loaf on top of him, “would you look at that?”

“Guess you’re not a trespasser any more,” Jen replied, feeling a swell of pride. Of her three furry companions, it was Eva who truly always knew when a little bit of cat weight therapy was warranted, and Jen was elated that she deemed Astarion worthy of her care tonight.

“Chin scritches are her favorite,” Jen coached him as he moved a hand tentatively toward the calico.

She watched him oblige the cat with scratches, smiling at the sight of Eva leaning into it, before turning back to the television to watch season one over again with a new audience.

Jen had guessed correctly; Astarion found the show both diverting and fascinating. Between the television and the cat, he refused to move to remove the mask when the timer went off, leaving Jen to handle both his and hers.

When the mask was wiped away, and two different lotions applied in a specific sequence -- something she was talked into doing for both of them once more -- he insisted on watching another episode sprawled out on the couch together. She caught him examining her shortly after the episode started.

“Thank you, darling,” he said when she met his eye. “I needed this.”

Her heart skipped a beat as he looked up at her with a tired, but genuine smile.

Fuuuuuuuuck me.

That was a dangerous look.

“Of course,” she replied, leaning into the genuine peacefulness she’d felt relaxing with him, and trying to ignore the doubt that threatened to creep back up on her suddenly.

Well, at least she knew how to get him on to bigger and brighter things now. It was best to focus on that, going forward, and not on how wonderful it felt to watch him relax again, giggling at the drama that unfolded on a charter yacht in the Mediterranean, the argument of earlier seemingly forgiven, if not forgotten.

And most importantly of all, Jen now knew what to do. Astarian had a quest to find Tav, and she was going to make damn sure he succeeded in it.

Notes:

I know y'all saw this coming. :)

Hopefully there's still a few twists and mysteries to come, even with the quest finally revealed. Also, elf aging is weird, so if you're a hard core lore nerd, forgive my making it more 'human' for the sake of the story here.

Chapter 20: One in Eight Billion

Summary:

After a restful evening, the duo discuss how to best dive into Astarion's quest for Tav. With a tentative plan in place, the rest of the afternoon is spent recovering and preparing.

20. One in Eight Billion

Eight billion. They had to find one person in eight billion. 

“Did you, by chance, look up the world population yet?”

“I don’t see how that matters.”

“How does the fact that there are more than eight billion potential ‘Tavs’ not matter?”

“Because Baba Yaga sent me to a realm she said I’d find her in, so we’ve got to be here already.”

“So Tav’s in Texas according to Baba Yaga, and you just straight believed her? Do you have any clue how easy and common it is to travel all over the place these days?”

“I mean those cars certainly go fast, so I imagine it's easy.”

“My friend, have you run into airplanes yet?”

“Air planes?”

“It’s a vehicle, not an elemental plane of air or whatever the hell magic you were about to ask about. It flies. We literally fly. Everywhere. Like on the nautiloids.”

“Without magic?”

“Yep. We could be on the other side of the world in like, twelve to sixteen hours.”

She watched the doubt begin to creep into his face and berated herself, backtracking to try to fix it.

“But we can start here, locally. Maybe the nice fey witch lady was being totally honest. What exactly was your plan to try to find Tav, anyway?”

“Oh, show up and workshop the rest as I went.”

Jen stared at him. The strategy may have worked for him in the past, if Baldur’s Gate III taught her anything, but she sure as hell would not have staked a soulmate on it. Come to think of it, it was probably good that she hadn't staked killing Cazador on it personally either. She had a hunch that even if Astarion didn't walk into the palace with a plan, his companions had made extensive ones to protect him.

“So… you expect to just, what? Walk around? Hope the stars align? Bump into her? Have her suddenly go ‘Oh shit I’m actually a reincarnated elf and I’ve been looking for you my whole life?’”

Astarion glared at her.

“A little less sarcasm, please, my dear. I understand this is no light undertaking, but yes. I expected to wind up somewhere in Toril and do just that.”

“I think you need to explain to me a bit about how the hell she’d know it was her.”

“Well, if she was still under several decades, she’d be considered young by elf standards and her Reverie would be of times past. True, it would usually be her primal soul, but I was thinking perhaps the fey witch may have meddled a little, given Tav a little tip so to speak. I’d bump into her, she’d recognize me, and off we’d go again on our quest to let me walk in the sun.”

“That sounds very optimistic. So uh, in case you didn’t notice, we humans here on earth, we don’t do that whole reverie thing.”

“I noticed,” he sniffed. “So I think perhaps I’ll just have to go out and look for her.”

Jen stared at him, baffled at his complete nonchalance about having literally no plan in place to actually find Tav. Well, no, he had a plan but it was very much just one of those, ‘step one: show up, step two: question marks, step three: profit’ type of plans. Basically, no plan.

“You’re relying on luck,” she stated flatly. “That’s it?”

“I’m relying on the magical laws of the universe, darling,” he argued back.

“Ok,” she said, stretching the word into two very long syllables, “let’s see what this looks like practically, then. I cannot simply drop work and take you everywhere to look. You cannot simply go everywhere and look without some way to fund your quest. I’m still not sure you’re ready to be entirely on your own out there yet-”

“I don’t have to be,” he interrupted. “You’re going to be helping me.”

“Well yes, but I still have to feed cats. Work. Play Dungeons and Dragons with my friends on Saturdays. ‘Wallow in the muck and burrs.’ We’re going to need some kind of, I don’t know, plan of attack or schedule at the very least.

“Have you thought at all about how you’re going to make money for this? And for your burgeoning skin and hair care addictions?”

“Of course, my dear.”

Astarion pulled no less than a dozen credit cards out of his pocket. Jen stared as he fanned them out in his hand.

“What the actual hell? Where did you get those?”

“I rescued them while out the other night.”

She pressed her face into her hands. Rogue. The man was a rogue. This should not have surprised her. Not in the least.

“They’ve probably already been reported stolen. You could try to use them, but the odds are solid they won’t work. You’re going to need to find a more legitimate job than that.”

He pulled a wad of cash out of his other pocket. Jen watched wide eyed yet again as he started leafing through bills. He had at least a few hundred dollars cash in his hand at the moment.

“Wonderful,” she grumbled. “I don’t want to know how many cameras caught you pulling that shit out of people's pockets wherever you were.”

“I wouldn’t worry much about that, my dear. I asked online and some very nice guardsmen let me know that rarely are the store cameras checked for a pickpocket here or there. I simply won’t do it there again. And I already threw the wallets in the lake.”

“Am I going to be able to convince you to get a legitimate job, Astarion? Because I do not want you getting caught with a bunch of stolen shit in my house. You’ll get me implicated in this shit.”

“And where would you suggest I find a job, my dear,” he asked haughtily.

“I don’t fucking know, the internet like the rest of us? I’d tell you to go get a job stocking shelves at night but I highly doubt I can convince you to ditch pick pocketing in favor of manual labor.”

“I’ll consider it,” he said in a tone that Jen knew meant he was not going to consider it until it was his last option or he found something very enticing. She made a mental note to keep an eye out for any MLM bullshit or signs he’d fallen into any kind of get rich quick schemes.

“Good enough,” she said with resignation. “So, as for looking for Tav, what’s the plan there?”

“Go places. Look for Tav.”

She met his annoyed glare with one of her own.

“When? How are you getting there? Uber does not take cash and you’re not going out every day on my card. No, that face will not change my mind.”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, dropping the pout. “Wait for you to be done with whatever the hells you do during the day, then venture forth at night.”

“Fine. Now where?”

It was plainly obvious that he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead yet. He opened his mouth and closed it again, furrowing his brow to think.

“Where are your taverns?”

“Bars,” she snorted. “Clubs? Fuck if I know. I’m a little old for that scene, and Tav may be, too. How do you know Tav hasn’t got a family and kids and stuff already? What are you going to do if she does?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped angrily. “But I have to start somewhere.”

Jen watched as the anger melted into sadness.

Gods damn it.

She and her stupid mouth had done it again. This stupid brain of hers was always forgetting that sometimes people didn’t need to hear the truth, they needed to hear what was kind, and reminding him that Tav may have a full life going on without even being aware of him at all was not kind.

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I’ll try to focus on helpful things only. Let’s try places where there’s tons of people together. Places people go for fun like the mall or theme parks or museums or something. If we try to see as many faces as we can, maybe she’ll just jump out at you.”

She paused, watching his shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, face still gloomy.

“You could browse singles online, too. I have no idea how dating apps work because fuck that noise as a woman, but you could at least swipe through pictures on them and see if you recognize anyone. You could do that while I’m busy having to work, even.”

He could even start flirting with people there. Maybe find someone else to inundate with sexual overtures. Find someone who could actually reciprocate, as much as it turned her stomach to think about it.

That particular aversion struck her as odd, suddenly. She had no problem losing him to Tav, but losing him to some random person from the depths of Tinder was causing the jealous little dragon who hoarded his attention to poke its head out of the metaphorical cave.

“Browse singles online? Like those boxes on the websites tell me they have?”

“No. Do not click any of those boxes ever. That’s spam and it’s mostly a site full of bots and dudes catfishing.”

Astarion stared at her blankly, then raised an eyebrow.

“Bots are, well, fake personas that engage with people online. Usually maliciously. Catfishing is posing as someone you’re not to try to make a relationship with someone. Again, usually maliciously, like to scam someone out of money or something.”

“Oh,” he said. “So what would you suggest?”

“I’ve not tried it personally, but Tinder is one of the most popular ones I think. Just look up ‘online dating’ and read some articles about it. That should get you started.”

“Alright. Helpful, my dear, thank you. What about going to these places you mentioned? When can we start?”

“Well, today’s Saturday, so I’ve got my D&D game tonight. But we could go to the mall tomorrow, start there I guess.”

It would give him somewhere to try out all his new clothes and get used to being out in a crowd some more. Again, it was more crowded than she’d prefer on a Sunday a few weeks before Christmas, but that might be for the best for his quest. She could use a few more shampoo bars and bath bombs from Lush while she was there, too.

“What’s a mall?”

“Huge building with tons of different stores. Some amusements. Food. I guess it’s like a marketplace, but it’s all inside in a single building.”

“There will be lots of people there, I take it?”

“Tons. Too many. Most crowded time of the year.”

She snorted in sudden laughter as something occurred to her. Should she tell him now, or wait for the surprise? Oh, no. She was going to wait for the surprise. Give herself something to look forward to tomorrow. Maybe she could even convince him to get his picture taken.

“So mall tomorrow,” she confirmed, “Then we’re back to a Monday, which is a work day. I work what’s considered standard for office jobs, Monday through Friday. So we can use the evenings to do things, but during the day, I’m chained to the computer.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

“And evenings would be split between going out and game time if we do that.”

Astarion leaned back in his armchair, thinking quietly. His face told her that reality was starting to set in about how enormous this undertaking might be for him, how long it could take.

And he’s clearly not a planner. You are. So plan.

“I think,” she said, checking to see that she had his attention, “that we should ease into it. You’ve barely been here a week. We can do some major outings on weekends together, but play closer to home during the week. Then we can shift the balance and reassess as time passes. Sound good?”

Astarion examined the air between them for a moment before looking back at her.

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “I like that. We still have time before your game tonight, though, don’t we? Couldn’t we go do something?”

“I’d really rather not,” she sighed. “Yesterday was a lot. I want to stay home or go out into the woods.”

“Then I’ll come out into the woods with you.”

Jen laughed.

“You what?”

“Well,” he said, shifting his weight, “you apologized last night. I didn’t.”

Jen blinked at him. She had no clue what he thought he needed to apologize for. She'd been the ass.

“And I should have. I expected the worst of you with all evidence to the contrary, and I apologize. Consider it a peace offering.”

“So you want to go into the muck and burrs with me?”

“Well, I’d rather not. But I am willing to.”

Jen thought for a moment, considering all the hidden little areas she knew of. There were plenty that they could access without mud or pricker plants. In fact, she knew a hidden clearing right along a stretch of stream she’d not been digging in recently. All it would take was her picnic blanket and some food to make a hell of a restful afternoon out of it.

She beamed at him.

“Apology accepted, though it really wasn’t necessary. I’ve got somewhere you’ll like better than where I found you. It’s a hidden clearing that should get some sun. You can lay out and I’ll do my creek digging.”

“What are you even digging for?”

She shrugged and grinned mischievously.

“Treasure."

This clearly caught Astarion's attention and she laughed, watching his expression change as he realized she was pulling his leg.

"It’s relaxing. And I can find all kinds of fossils. I miss the wild places and mountains of home, but Texas does have quite a few fossils if you know where to go digging.”

She slid a hand into her pocket, pulling out the sand tiger tooth from earlier that week.

“Like this one.”

She handed it to Astarion who looked down at it curiously.

“What in the hells is that? You found this in the creek?”

“Yeah. It’s an ancient shark tooth. I don’t usually find teeth in that creek, but I did this week. Not to sound too superstitious, but it’s kind of a good luck charm to find one I think.”

She grinned as he did exactly what she had, pressing a finger into the tip of the tooth, feeling its sharpness even after millions of years.

“You hang onto that one,” she said. “You’re going to need some extra luck with your quest I think. But let’s sunscreen you up, I’ll pack a lunch, and we’ll avoid the nasty brambles today.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, smiling back. He glanced down at the tooth again and pocketed it. “I’ll get my sunscreen -- yours is awful -- and you pack your lunch.”

Jen found herself spreading admittedly much higher quality sunscreen on Astarion’s bare back again, arguing with him about the appropriate amount of clothing to remove to go sunbathing. She’d once again convinced him to keep the delicate bits concealed, but she had lost some ground given that he insisted on the barest minimum of clothing. Well, she’d not be standing there staring at him anyway. She’d be digging in the creek, happily minding her time panning for natural treasures.

They set off in the opposite direction of where she usually went, passing along the edge of the neighborhood before she slid them into the woods when no one was passing by. The mature trees overhead here blocked the light from the floor, which meant that, true to her promise, there weren’t brambles and burrs to wade through to get where they were going.

What kept the clearing hidden was that you had to cross the stream to get there, and it had weathered down through at least six feet of earth along this stretch. She crossed it by sliding on her ass down the muddy bank, wading downstream a dozen feet to a helpful mother tree, and hauling herself up with the exposed roots. Astarion simply leapt across the eight foot gap between banks as though it was nothing.

She spread the water resistant blanket out under bare winter branches, snacked a little, and slid back into the creek to avoid watching Astarion as he started stripping his clothes off to prepare for his cat nap in the sun.

She may have peeked once or twice, though, sticking her nose over the top of the embankment as she stretched to avoid getting cramped from crouching so long.

He looked like he belonged there, lying beneath the trees and sun in a hidden corner of the woods. Now and again he’d shift, or scroll through his phone, but for the most part, he looked to just be soaking in the daylight like a blissful, lazy cat.

Jen grinned mischievously as she slid her phone out of her pocket and took a few surreptitious pics from her streamside post. The man was simply gorgeous and she could not resist seeing him in the sun with his defenses down. Never had been able to.

She looked at the pics with a smile and returned to her treasure hunting, happy to show Astarion what exactly she was doing when he popped over to check on her later. He didn’t stick around, but at least acted politely interested in her finds.

Jen felt like the world was right again as they headed toward home. They’d see how the mall went tomorrow, but at least the air, and the ultimate goal, was clear now.

Notes:

No big notes plot wise at the moment. I will say that writing this in summer has me all kinds of confused. I keep stepping outside expecting it to be 40 degrees and getting blasted by 90s and humidity. Here's to hoping for sweater weather soon. :)

Actually, now that I think of it, we will be meeting some new characters soon and are going to hit another hiccup in the friendship, but they're in a much better place to handle it now. I'm most looking forward to the holiday scenes, but those are a few chapters out still.

Chapter 21: Holly Jolly

Summary:

Astarion and Jen check out the mall on day one of the Quest to find Tav.

21. Holly Jolly

“These people are insane,” Astarion hissed, clinging to the handle above the door yet again as Jen swung the car across oncoming traffic to try another aisle of parking spots. “Do you have to be trained for this?”

Jen snorted.

“Not professionally. You get a piece of plastic at age fifteen that says your parents will teach you, and they show you some basics or don’t, you pass a written test a year later, and congrats. You can now go be an idiot on the road.”

“It’s a wonder any of you survive to adulthood,” he grumbled. “I see one! Over there, darling, turn left!”

Jen did, relying on his superior eyesight to give them an edge in the free for all that was the mall parking lot less than two weeks before Christmas. She’d gotten to the spot just in time, shouting her victory at an oncoming SUV that had been just ten seconds too late.

Having parked, finally, they exited the vehicle, Jen taking a moment to reach back in for her pack and her bubble tea, Astarion taking a moment to check his hair, brush out his slacks, straighten his vest, nudge his shirt collar into a more favorable position, pick a few errant cat hairs off of his sleeve, triple check his nails, scowl as he positioned his elf hat, and finally turn to face Jen as she leaned against the trunk of the car, waiting for all his preening to be done.

“You good now?”

“Presentable,” he responded, sticking his nose in the air. She smiled at him and jerked her head in the direction of the entrance. She began walking, eyes wrinkling in amusement as she heard the quiet jingle of the hat bell catching up from behind her.

The mall was absolutely packed with people out doing last minute holiday shopping. She’d decided to take him across town to the Colonnade Mall, the most upscale mall within an hour drive. She had very firmly told him that she was in no way, shape, or form buying for him today. He was welcome to use his ill gotten cash toward whatever ends he pleased, but she did not have the income to afford what he was going to find at some of the top end stores. She’d also cut all the stolen credit cards in half and disposed of them, to his enormous displeasure.

She knew, given the caliber of stores here, that he was going to want it all. Hell, she wanted it all at some of them, like the stationary store or Box Lunch.

Ostensibly, they were officially on the Quest for Tav today, and had discussed what exactly this looked like in the car on the drive over. Jen had offered to help look out for her, but Astarion had turned this down, completely certain that he’d be the one to know if he saw her or not.

If he saw someone of potential interest, he’d chat her up, get a better feel, perhaps exchange numbers, or if lightning stuck in a bolt of exceptional luck, poke Jen repeatedly and excitedly while she tried to explain to the poor soul standing in front of them that they were actually Astarion’s reincarnated soulmate. Jen wanted his quest to succeed, but was really hoping that this last one is not what went down today.

Maybe Tav would find him. Maybe she’d come bolting out of the crowd, shouting his name with glee, tears in her eyes, jump into his arms, and the two would saunter off with a fond farewell to Jen, returning to pick up Astarion’s clothes and beauty products at a later time.

Somehow, she didn’t think so, but she supposed it wasn’t that much more far fetched than a gods damned elf portalling into the woods several miles from her house one winter evening, so who was she to judge?

In practice, this was more likely to be a shopping escapade with some entertainment on the side. The Colonnade had a year round ice skating rink on the ground floor, and while she didn’t plan to take him skating, nor did she think he’d be interested in it, she was looking forward to his take on the spectacle that was a three story mall at Christmas time.

And then there was Santa Claus. That had been a secret secondary reason for bringing him here specifically. There was no mall in the metroplex with a more elaborate North Pole set up than this one, and she was gleefully awaiting the moment Astarion set eyes on the ‘elves’ working there this weekend.

“We’re starting at the bookstore,” she announced as they jostled into the entryway alongside about a billion other people. Jen could feel her stress level rising, but she’d spent enough time learning to manage it that she knew she’d get through the day alright as long as they took breathers. Jer had loved window shopping at the mall, looking in GameStop, browsing sports memorabilia, wandering in anything new or odd that he didn’t remember having wandered in before.

They had almost always been to every single store already, but the man had had the memory of a goldfish and the listening skills of a brick sometimes, and she had let it ride with affectionate amusement when they were sharing an aimless afternoon together.

It was her second Christmas without him now, and it sucked to be reminded of it, but at least she wasn’t completely alone this time. She kept a careful eye on Astarion, who was striding along beside her, his chin up like he owned the place. Her supervision had a dual purpose: watching to see if he was noticing anyone who caught his eye and also trying to keep an eye out for him going for poorly guarded pockets.

She wasn’t sure that she’d be able to succeed in catching him at this second one. He could move preternaturally fast when he felt like it, but she’d not seen him go for a pocket, belt bag, or purse yet. She thought, anyway.

They wandered into the bookstore where she browsed seasonal crochet patterns in the magazines. Astarion flipped through some fashion mags, appraising their contents with interest. She finished before he did, and he started to walk to the door with her, still browsing the contents of his find.

“Pay for that.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.

“You are no fun at all.”

“I am paranoid, is what I am. The thing is only like ten bucks. Go get in the line and pay for it like a normal person. I’ll wait over here.”

He huffed at her before stomping off to get in line with all of the other plebeians shopping today. Jen watched him flip his expression in an instant when the young woman in front of him struck up a conversation. He flattered her with his best grin before becoming animated about something in the magazine he was holding.

Jen envied him his ability to do that, to just walk up, draw someone in, and make them feel like the center of the world. She continued to watch as the pair moved through the line, parting once the woman walked to the next available cashier. Astarion waved a friendly goodbye, paid for his own magazine with his stolen cash next, and returned.

“Well? Do we need to go follow her?”

“Hm?”

“Not a Tav candidate?”

“Oh, no, I don’t believe so. Just a bit of small talk.”

“Darn. So, any thoughts where you’d find Tav? Like, you think she’ll have the same interests as she did?”

“Haven’t a clue,” he responded cheerily, handing her the magazine to stash in her pack.

“Suppose we could swing by a record store, since they have that here. I would presume the bard would be into music anyway.”

“How about we just walk around, my dear? No need to hurry from place to place. I’m still getting used to all this.”

Jen shrugged. His quest. She was just here to help and as much as she could plan, he had to be the one to execute or not. But his nonchalant attitude did mean that she could bring him past the three story tall tree and the North Pole next, which she was greatly anticipating.

The density of children scattered throughout the crowd began to increase as they made their way toward the heart of The Colonnade, and Jen found herself humming Jingle Bell Rock with the ever present background music as she caught sight of the massive tree ahead.

“Why are all these children pointing at me,” he asked her with a small frown as a young girl holding her dad’s hand stuck an excited finger in the air toward his hat.

“Because,” Jen said, widening her eyes in fake wonderment, “we’re about to be in the North Pole. And every kid knows what that means.”

As they strolled past the big glass elevators, the cause of all the hubbub came into view. The whole atrium was decorated to look like a fantastic winter wonderland. Fir trees and giant candy canes were scattered through, interspersed with other photo opportunities like a real sleigh and life sized stuffed reindeer. These winding paths through the fake snow all invariably led to a single place, the line for a man sitting in a large chair in front of the massive Christmas tree.

“Oh good gods,” Astarion muttered, “that is what you people call an elf?”

He’d stopped walking, staring aghast at the figure clad in a green tunic and red and green striped tights who guarded the entry line for the Santa Claus picture station.

“That is what people think I am when they see me in this hat?”

Jen was cackling internally, her amusement leaking out into a cheeky grin.

“Yup. Bet they’d hire you if you want a job.”

“Absolutely not, you ingrate,” he growled, watching as the elf, who wore his best customer service smile, waved excitedly to another group of kids.

“There is another tradition here, you know. Everyone has to get their picture taken with Santa on their first Christmas.”

Astarion spun to face her, drawing himself up to his full height.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s bad luck not to,” she lied, unable to fight off the full smile now taking over her features at his mounting outrage.

“That man in the red on the chair? That fat man?”

“That’s the one. C’mon, let’s get in line!”

“No.”

“Well now who’s no fun?”

He crossed his arms and stuck his nose into the air.

“Bad luck or not, I’m not going.”

“You’re causing a scene,” she pouted. “It’s just a picture.”

“Are you serious,” he hissed.

“Well I wasn’t originally, but your outrage is making the idea funnier by the moment.”

“I take back my apology from yesterday. You’re a terrible person,” he sniffed, striding onward, pointedly ignoring the North Pole and the looks and comments his appearance was garnering so close to it. Jen broke out laughing and trotted after him.

“Ah c'mon. Just pose in front of it. Pleeeeeease!”

“Give me one good reason.”

“So I can send a picture to my sister.”

“Send a-” he did a double take. “Looking like this?”

“Yes! I’m spending the holiday up there this year. Hadn’t mentioned it yet because I didn’t know if you’d want to go with or not, but it would do wonders for her opinion of you to see you in the holiday spirit.”

Astarion looked down his nose at her.

“I don’t like it.”

She shrugged. His eyes flicked back up to the fake North Pole in front of them.

“I’m not sitting on that fat man’s lap.”

Holy hell. He was going to cave. He was actually going to let her take this picture.

“But I’ll go stand by that large tree with the lights. And nothing more.”

She gave him an over exaggerated smile of approval as he shuffled his way toward the Christmas tree. She owed him a trip to Lush after this, she reckoned, as she got her phone out to snap a picture.

“At least smile for one.”

He refused, but plastered her with a sneer so overdone that it absolutely beat out any happy picture she could possibly have taken of him.

“I can take one of both of you,” offered a voice behind her. Jen looked back to Astarion, who was giving her a warning glare.

“Absolutely,” she told the woman. “Thanks!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he hissed as she sidled up to him.

“Smile for the camera,” she responded with a grin.

Astarion looked down at her for just a moment before hooking his arm around her shoulders, pulling her right in beside him, grinning ear to ear, and dropping his hand to give her a quick pinch.

The resulting series of pictures was comical, and the woman who took them clearly thought so too, as she handed the phone back suppressing laughter.

Jen’s face was bright red, wide eyes and half open mouth capturing how shocked she’d been the moment the final one had been snapped. For his part, Astarion looked perfect, standing tall, smiling beautifully, and doing absolutely nothing but holding her beside him.

“Shall we move on,” Astarion asked, giving her smug little grin as he glanced down at her phone from over her shoulder.

“You’re endeariating, you know that?”

“I’m what?”

“Endearing and infuriating all at once. I made that word up just for you.”

He giggled, clearly feeling better after the tables had turned and she had been the one at the receiving end.

“If the doublet fits…”

She shook her head at him and they continued down the way, pausing for her to ogle the new Lego sets from the door. She didn’t feel like standing in line to get in the store at the moment, but took time to explain what Legos were and why she loved to look at the sets.

Astarion continued looking around as they walked, seeming more and more comfortable with the surroundings the longer they spent moving through the mall. She could tell he was watching for anything he took to be a sign of Tav, but she could also tell that he hadn’t really seen anything that grabbed his attention.

“No luck, I take it,” she asked again as they stepped into Lush.

“No. I haven’t seen anyone that looks similar enough.”

Jen thought this was a weird thing to be focused on.

“Same soul doesn’t mean same body, surely,” she said.

“Typically, no. But Baba Yaga guaranteed that I would know Tav the moment I saw her again, or something like that. Bloody crystal,” he muttered. “The only way for that to happen would be if she looks like Tav.”

Jen thought about it. That or magic, so without magic, which Baba Yaga would have known would happen...

“And you haven’t seen her?”

“No,” he sighed, and she sighed with him.

“You want to keep walking around?”

“I think so,” he said, after a moment.

“I’m out here today for you, so you just tell me what you want to do, alright?”

“I want to buy some of these lovely soaks before anything else,” he said, moving down the shelves to examine a few more bath bombs.

“I know I said I wouldn’t, but my treat on those, for being a good sport earlier.”

She found her basket laden with items suddenly as he grabbed more off of the shelves.

“You choose too much and it won’t happen again,” she warned, trying to keep her amusement hidden beneath a serious expression. She failed and rolled her eyes with a grin as he removed the one very last thing he’d placed in the basket with a pout.

“Could get a massage,” she said as they left the store and merged back into the stream of shoppers. Astarion sighed.

“I’d rather not.”

Jen looked at him, puzzled. He glanced awkwardly away.

“They’d see my back.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “They have chair massages, where you leave your shirt on, too. That’s what I was talking about, though…”

She trailed off. They’d probably feel the scars beneath the button down he wore and she had a hunch it would be just as awkward for him.

“We’ll skip it. Sorry. Just know you like being pampered.”

“It’s alright,” he said. “You know, I wouldn’t turn it down if you wanted to give me one, though.”

She shot him an unamused glance.

“I’d return the favor.”

Yesssss, the gremlin hissed.

No, she told it sternly.

“I think we’ll both just skip it entirely.”

“Now who’s no fun,” he quipped, repeating her line from earlier.

They were coming up on the far end of the mall when Astarion stumbled in a show of uncharacteristic clumsiness.

“Oop! So sorry, my dear,” he he apologized, having bumped into a very well dressed lady walking the other way clutching a Nordstrom's bag. She opened her mouth with an angry look that melted into confusion, surprise, then passivity as she took in the man who’d bumped her. She sniffed at him and continued on.

The whole encounter was over just a second or two after he’d collided, and Jen would have missed what had just happened if she hadn’t known this tactic from travelling overseas.

Once they were out of earshot, she shot Astarion a sideways look.

“What’d you take?”

“Hm?”

“What did you pocket from that ‘accidental’ bump?”

“Darling, would-”

“The answer is yes. What did you pocket?”

“She looked well off enough,” he scowled. “That store looks expensive and smells wonderful. So let’s go in there and I’ll do some shopping on her card.”

“Astarion.”

“What? She didn’t notice. I’ll ditch it immediately afterward.”

“I fucking swear, if you get us kicked out… The mall is going to have tons of cameras and increased security for the holidays, so please, please knock it off. There’s no sunscreen in jail and the last thing I’d want is for you to get locked up and burnt to a crisp.”

He waved her concern away.

“If they catch me, which they won’t, I’ll just pay the guards off and return the stolen goods.”

“That is not how it works here.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Alright, fine. Consider me warned. Let’s go.”

Jen sighed back at him and walked with him into Nordstrom’s where Astarion rapidly decided to spend no small amount of money. He found more turtlenecks he liked, then denim he appraised as fitting properly, and discovered sweater vests, which made him look like a professor, a look Jen didn’t realize she rated so highly until he was wearing it. She’d been forced into being his mirror again, but found that it wasn’t half as awkward as the first time.

He didn’t pressure her when she stumbled with her comments, and she didn’t feel nearly as judged for her ineptitude with just the two of them and whatever strangers happened to be trying things on as well.

He paid for several hundred dollars worth of clothes with the freshly stolen wallet, and she bit her tongue as he did so.

She wasn’t going to talk the man out of this any time soon, and the lady would probably get the charges reversed anyway in the end. She didn’t exactly feel great about it, but it wasn’t the crime of the century. She sure wasn't going to track the lady down and make him give it back.

“Plus,” he told her when he noticed her disapproving look, “the woman shops here, and was just here, so If I simply drop the wallet in the store, she’ll think she misplaced it.”

Jen couldn’t fault his logic there, but she probably needed to show him the internal workings of a credit card account to make him truly understand why this was not going to be sustainable for him.

He’d still not pointed out anyone who caught his eye to her by the time they were heading back to the car. He’d only spoken to a few people outside of the cashiers, and Jen worried about this fact as they walked.

She’d been hoping for more ‘something’ to happen today, for his sake especially. If he’d found more potential suspects or exchanged numbers with at least one person, she’d have felt a little less like the whole thing was a bust, but it was only their first outing.

And as she herself had told him, there were a lot of people in the world. Tav was going to be a needle in the haystack, even confined to the state of Texas alone, if that’s what he thought best.

“Hey,” she said as they buckled up to head home.

“You’re good coming on a road trip with me for Christmas, yeah? It’s a holiday usually spent with family, and my sister’s all I’ve got left. You can stay home, if you want, but I wanted to invite you. Didn’t want you feeling lonely.”

She knew she was projecting the 'lonely for Christmas' bit onto him since he didn’t know what Christmas was, but decided that it didn’t matter. It was kinder to invite him and see what he wanted to do.

“Road trip?”

“A longer drive than normal, usually to take a trip somewhere. We’d be heading about four hours north to Arkansas. My sister Izzy lives there with her husband John.”

Astarion didn’t say anything at first, so Jen remained quiet to let him process whatever it was he was busy processing.

“Are there going to be any more elf pictures,” he asked distastefully. She smiled.

“Every picture you’re in is an elf picture.”

“Not what I meant, my dear.”

“I know. And no. It’s mostly just hanging out, swapping presents, and having a big meal together. I’ll make sure we’ve got gifts for you, too, so you’re not the odd one out.”

“I think I’d like that,” he said after a moment. “Arkansas, you said?”

“Mmhm. I’ll give Izzy a call this week and tell her I’m bringing a friend.”

And maybe spend some time this week researching more about elf souls or that god he’d mentioned that parchment was enchanted by. There had to be a way she could be more helpful than just being his chauffeur.

Notes:

I can't get over the notion that he'd hate Christmas elves with a passion. I also can't resist Jen getting his goat now and again. Got to keep the elf on his toes, after all.

We're a few chapters from the Christmas holiday, which I think is shaping up to be really fun. With any luck, y'all can enjoy a bit of the North Pole during the depths of the oncoming summer. :)

Chapter 22: A Box of “Fun”

Summary:

There's a lot going on before the holidays, least of all trying to process the last couple of weeks and prepare for the next few.

Notes:

Trigger warning:
-Mentions of SA

22. A Box of "Fun"

Over the course of the work week, Jen had spent a full day wandering the house explaining appliances and gadgets between tasks. Another evening walking the neighborhood, talking about life in a suburb, cars and commuting and HOAs and Christmas lights and holidays. Plenty of time answering questions about the internet, helping brainstorm more things he could spend time reading, or now more frequently watching, on his own while she did her work. 

He’d continued to get much more savvy online, and she’d added more and more apps on his phone, including Amazon, which he had been delighted by. Random boxes of hair care products had started showing up at the door and he kept coming back requesting more gift cards to fund them. She’d removed the consoles and games on the shelves beneath the TV in the living room to give him enough space for his growing collection.

She’d also picked up her Intellect Devourer ‘Us’ crochet project she’d been putting off as they watched Below Deck together one evening, and Astarion had caught sight of the neglected embroidery supplies in the craft closet. She’d let him know that he was free to do whatever he wanted with them, at which point it had all disappeared somewhere.

She’d also started to make progress on her house. She had tolerated living in a disaster zone, but it mortified her that Astarion was trapped in it with her. The cardboard had found its way into the recycle bin. The dishes had been cleaned and emptied into the cabinets as part of the appliances lesson, alongside the dirty laundry finally finding the washer and dryer. The clean laundry was still stashed in random hampers but it was a start.

They were not quite two weeks into their acquaintance now, and after their explosive first argument and the resulting revelations, both of them had grown comfortable. She felt like she had a true friend again, and he had finally stopped being so damn suspicious of her. Not only that, he seemed to be in weirdly good spirits whenever she fell victim to another migraine. The last time she got one, he’d heated a can of noodle soup on the stove, brought it to her unasked for, and refused to leave until she’d eaten the whole bowl.

Then, of course, there were his evening meals. Since their own bite night, Jen tried exceedingly hard not to think about these nightly meals outside of due time, but the permanent ache in her neck was a constant reminder, and it was one she furtively savored. Thank fuck it was scarf season.

The only time she mentioned their ongoing dining arrangement was when she muttered the nightly invitation to him. To his credit, outside of meal times, Astarion said nothing of the arrangement either, not after the first night when he’d wrung her confession out of her, but she could see the hunger rise in him as the night fell, darkness creeping in the windows around the house and settling in his gaze.

He had managed to keep her from ending up critically anemic, though not for lack of her trying. She’d hoped that she would display a little more grace once she acclimated to being a juice box, but this had not happened. If anything, it had only gotten worse. She now barreled head first into that breathtaking mingling of pulses instead of sinking into it like she had that first time.

It meant that some nights he insisted on waiting until she was already asleep. He’d initially played this off as not wanting to disturb her rest, but she’d realized that every night she spent awake and blessedly feral under his fangs was followed by at least one of him opting to stay up late or being busy with something else or already out hunting.

Saving you from yourself, you suicidal maniac.

She’d stopped questioning how she was so perfectly comfortable with what was damn near two sets of clothes shy of being full on intercourse. She had some ideas, but, as with most things, Jen was not about to question results, especially good, repeatable results.

She sighed aggressively and leaned on the brakes as another pick up truck cut her off in the middle of the worst half mile of merging interstates this side of the Mississippi. Idiots needed to learn to drive, especially in rain like this.

It being the third Thursday of the month meant that she had had to go make an appearance in the physical office today, but she was on her way home finally, picking through the rush hour traffic and rain one expletive at a time. The hour-long drive had given her the chance to mull over how things had been going since the first outing to find Tav, especially with the drumming of large raindrops on the roof and the rhythmic swish of the wipers.

It also gave her the perfect opportunity to call her sister and request permission to bring her plus one this year. Which she should really stop putting off given that Christmas was exactly a week off at this point.

“Call Izzy.”

The car dialer started and the phone began to ring. Jen was hopeful that Izzy would take this news gracefully, but had been dreading making this call. She had decided that with her sister, they weren’t going to get away with the Christmas Elf costume. Astarion was going to have to be himself, so to speak.

“Jen!”

“Hey Izzy,” she said. “How’ve you been?”

“Good! You better not be cancelling on me. You’re coming up here for Christmas, still, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing. John and I already have the guest room set up for you-”

“Yes, about that-”

“And I dug out mom’s sugar cookie recipe and bought all the decorations already, so if you-”

“I’m still coming, Izzy, I’m just bringing a plus one,” Jen blurted out. Silence. Silence so long Jen started to sweat and thought that maybe she’d overstepped.

“A plus one,” her sister asked, breathless. “Why haven’t I heard about this plus one before now?”

“Because you know me. I stay off social media and I’m a hermit. Mostly, I’m a hermit.”

“Is your plus one a friend, or a friend?”

“I’m still kind of working that bit out. Baggage and all,” she mumbled.

“Oooh,” her sister crooned. “Are you two doing the horizontal tango? Should I invest in ear plugs?”

“No,” Jen replied emphatically. “I was going to ask if you’ve got an air mattress or something. If not, I’ll just bring my camping cot with.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t told me about him yet. What’s his name?”

“Er, well, he goes by Astarion?”

“Girl, if you show up with a body pillow of that damn vampire and tell me that’s your boyfriend and he needs his own mattress I’m kicking you out.”

“Oh shit,” Jen breathed.

“Jen.”

“No body pillow, but well, kind of a body double.”

“Hold on. Hoooooold on. Body double? Does this man look like Astarion?”

“Yes.”

Jen cringed at the awkward pause.

“How closely?”

“Um, well, damn near identical?”

“He’s into nerd shit with you, isn’t he. Is that where you found this one, too?”

“Izzy.”

“So he looks like Astarion. And you call him Astarion. Do you need my help?”

“What?”

“Are you being taken advantage of? Is he another jobless gold digger? Do I need to scare this man off?”

“No, no, and no, you better not. Look, can I bring him with or not? He’s not got anyone else to spend the holiday with.”

“You better bring him now. I have got to see this.”

Gods damn it. Leave it to my sister.

“Ok, so the air mattress? Do you have one?”

“Yes we have one.”

“Great. And I can use it?”

“Not going to cozy up to your perfect man?”

“We are not in that kind of relationship.”

“Are you trying to be?”

“I don’t think he wants to be. I am not discussing this right now. Look, I’m going to be home soon, so I’ve got to go. We’ll be there on the twenty-third after work.”

“My God, I can’t wait to tell John about this.”

“Hmph.”

Izzy laughed.

“Love you, too,” she exclaimed before Jen heard the end call noise.

She was a little surprised that Izzy recalled who Astarion was, but given the number of memes she’d sent her non-gaming sister, she supposed the name must have stuck.

Wonderful.

She was going to be getting it from both sides in Arkansas, her sister and Astarion both.

Because even after he found out she wasn’t open to a romantic relationship, the man would not stop flirting. It was yet another thing she’d had to puzzle over. Jen sat for a moment, staring at the garage door with a lump in her stomach before shaking herself out and seeing herself into the house.

“Yes, yes animals. Hang on.”

She deposited her bag in the game room and fed the cats, noting that Astarion was conspicuously absent from either the desk or his armchair. Maybe the vampire was out back sunbathing again. Hopefully clothed.

She’d not walked in on him in his birthday suit yet, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it was just a matter of time.

Jen walked toward her bedroom to change out of day wear and into her lounge clothes. She stopped dead in the doorway at the sight that greeted her.

“Well these look fun!”

Astarion, blessedly clothed, was brandishing a purple vibrator in one hand and a length of silk rope in the other. He laughed that high pitched, elated giggle as she stopped stone still.

“Mage hand usually gets the job done, but this is really quite clever technology!”

He pressed the button and all Jen could do was stare in the weirdest combination of horror and hilarity she had ever felt as the vibrator buzzed frantically into life.

“You’ve been holding out on me. You’ve got a whole box of goodies here,” he proclaimed, looking down and fishing the next toy out of her box of bedroom gadgets, which he had apparently relocated from her nightstand to the bed.

It felt like an eternity as she stood there, brain about as useful as a blue screen of death, stuck on a single unhelpful message: 

I am not prepared for this. I am not prepared for this. I AM NOT PREPARED FOR THIS.

Jen pinched the bridge of her nose, finally, hiding half of her face behind the palm of her hand. Astarion had now laid out the fuzzy handcuffs, the flogger, the paddle, and was examining a bumpy glass dildo.

“Why are you going through my…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Too flustered. She switched back into sarcastic asshole mode instead.

“Can I fucking help you?”

He spun, laughing, brandishing the dildo at her with a twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know, darling, can you?”

“I-” she stammered, face melting into her forearms as her hands raked her hair. “You know what? Never mind. Knock yourself out. Just clean anything you use. Thoroughly.”

She pointed at the cleansing wipes on the nightstand, refusing to make eye contact with him, imagining the shade her face had turned with dread.

“How generous,” he purred, and Jen felt his voice viscerally in her lower gut.

“Why are you doing this? I’ve already told you this isn’t necessary,” she said flatly. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? You should ask yourself the same thing, darling.”

She stared at the space between them, mute.

Nope.

They both knew the answer, but she remained silent. Astarion continued instead, one hand on his hip, the other gesticulating casually with the dildo he still held.

“Anyway, can’t I just want to have sex with you?”

Jen felt herself balk in shock before she barked out a laugh.

“You want to? With me? Gods, have you lost your mind?”

Astarion straightened. Jen felt the torrent of words rising and felt that piece of her detaching and floating up away again as they started pouring out of her mouth.

“Being friends with me I can understand at this point, but sex? Look at me. My ‘style’ is what I can only describe as blandly present. I’ve gnawed another cuticle to bleeding today. Oh, and quoting you here, I ‘wallow in the muck and burrs’ on a regular basis.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you are soul-shatteringly gorgeous, so why the hell would you want to, uh, er, well, with me of all people?”

Jen closed her eyes at the end of her tirade and marinated in the silence that had once again risen between them.

“Darling, is that how you think I see you,” he asked. 

Jen grimaced and dropped her head, taking a moment to breathe before responding. It’s not that she thought she was that bad off, she was just… unremarkable. With a tendency to stubbornly ignore conventional beauty standards and the overwhelming bullshit that went with them. And it showed.

“Look at you,” she exclaimed, frustrated. “I can’t compare, not in my wildest dreams! This is me, and I am just fine, but you are so far out of my league.”

Astarion left the toys where they lay and stepped over to her. A jolt went through her as he placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her out in front of him with gentle firmness, studying her.

“There is far more to desire here than you seem to think. Besides,” he added, giving one of her shoulders a gentle nudge, tone playful, “you’d clean up wonderfully if you had a little help from an expert.”

She felt her cheeks flush, and with that flush, the sudden crystallization of all her musings about what the hell Astarion’s deal even was with all this flirting.

The man knew she wasn’t looking for a relationship after the story with Jer had finally come out, but maybe he didn’t want a relationship. Maybe he kept bringing this up time and again because he seriously just wanted to have sex with her. Thought it would be just another enjoyable thing to engage in together.

He continued staring at her, watching her face, trying to read something in it. Jen felt her throat growing tight.

You can't.

A flash of anger rose in her suddenly.

Why? Why the hell not? Because she was going to be struck dead by a wrathful deity she didn’t even believe in any more?

She breathed out, daring, for a moment, to lean into the idea of a nice, casual fling with the drop dead gorgeous man in front of her, the one she’d already spent nights squirming beneath in another form of pleasure.

Astarion had stopped talking, hands still on her shoulders, and she began to feel her stomach flutter and twist as she watched him study her face from the edge of her vision. She knew he could hear her heart thumping ever harder, her breath starting to catch just a little bit.

But then Jen felt her courage flag and knew that she could not do this.

“I’m a disaster,” she whispered, defeated.

He waved her off.

“We all are, darling. Myself included.”

He didn’t understand. His world was different than hers. She wasn’t built for this. She wished so desperately that she was, but she just wasn’t.

“Look, it’s all a little fun for you, but I, well…”

“Sit,” he said, turning her around and steering her out of the bedroom to the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

She sat perfectly still, straight and stiff, flattening her voice to cautious neutrality as she spoke.

“I’ve literally never in my life gotten intimate with someone for fun. I’m not sure how it works. I’m not sure how I’d handle it.”

“Alright,” he drawled, eyebrows drawn together as he tried to parse this out. “You were married, though, so surely you’ve done the deed.”

“Well, yes, but we were in a relationship. That’s different.”

“Not really.” He tilted his head for a moment. “I mean, yes, it would be, but you’re not in one, so why not have some fun?”

Jen stared carefully at the air in front of her. He wasn’t going to stop. Not unless she could make him understand somehow.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t know she had issues. She just hadn’t expected to ever have to face them again after Jer had died. He was her lover, he was gone, there would be no further seeking of intimacy, therefore no need to confront any of that tangled bowl of spaghetti that they’d started unravelling together over the years.

Jen snapped back to the present with a sudden head shake. Now she just had to find a way to distill a decade of clawing back her sexual freedom only for the quest to end with Jer’s death in a way this man would understand.

“Because you’re not the only one in the world who has baggage about sex, alright? I know I want to! Gods, you do not need to tell me. I am the one who is living through her panties being the perpetual swamp of horniness right now. But it doesn’t make things any less complicated for me, Astarion.”

“What baggage?”

She heard iron in his voice then. A flicker of rage. And she knew it was a bad idea to talk about this. For incredibly obvious reasons.

“We don’t need to talk about this if it’s upsetting. We can just-”

“Who?”

She looked up at his face in alarm, fully expecting to talk him down from murder from the menace in that single word.

“No! No, no. It's… not how it was for you.”

Her momentary panic calmed as tension bled from his frame and he sat down beside her. 

“Good,” he growled. “Because I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, my dear, but we share an awful lot of burdens with each other.”

He placed a hand lightly on her back, as though he expected her to crumble at any moment and his hand was the piece left keeping her together.

Hell, it might have been at this point because yet again she sat on the sofa facing down things she’d rather have stuffed deep inside and ignored until she died.

“It can’t compare, really, and I would never dare to claim it could. Never. ”

Astarion frowned.

“Something has you, well, confused, my dear. Help me understand.”

She laughed bitterly as her mind cast about for the capital ‘R’ Reason for her state of existence and landed on the easy truth.

“I’m a woman. It’s as simple as that. Being a woman here means you grow up surrounded by a culture that makes no bones about slut shaming us. The first time I did anything was a big freaking deal and I didn’t even try until well past the point I was considered an adult.”

“Ugh, gods,” she heard him say. “It’s a whole society of prudes, isn’t it?”

Jen sighed.

“Kind of. You are unfortunately in a deeply religious country, and in a deeply religious state within it.”

“Wonderful. So, you follow this ‘religion’ do you?”

“Absolutely not. Not with their views on women. But I was raised in it by a family who did, which meant it took a while to break out of that line of thinking.

“When I first got intimate with a partner I was already considered an adult by social and psychological standards. I thought I was finally ready, but looking back, I don’t know. It was a mess.”

She spared a peripheral glance at Astarion, making sure he was alright before she continued.

“My first was coercive. It never turned into anything abusive, I didn’t think, but the pressure was always there. He made me feel like I was failing our ‘adult relationship,’ so I finally decided to try and he was my first. And then after that first time, nothing I agreed to was ever good enough for him.”

Astarion had gone still, face taught, eyes looking at her as if he’d not properly seen her before. She cleared her throat quietly and continued.

“I didn’t see it, though,” she shrugged. “Not while it was happening. I figured it was just something women put up with because that was the adult thing to do. It wasn’t always unpleasant, but lots of times, it was.”

Jen stopped, catching his expression. She thought about reaching for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly, but didn’t want to overstep or send the wrong message. Hell, she could barely figure out the right message at the moment.

“We split for other reasons eventually and I’m fine now. I came to terms with it. It happened and I made the best of it I could. At least it got the door open. Besides, my second intimate relationship went far better. Well, at least for as long as it lasted, though it was brief, I suppose…”

It was brief because the coward hadn’t had the common decency to be upfront that he wasn’t into her, not like that. They’d met online, hit it off, started strong in the sex department, and as soon as they got an apartment together, physical intimacy went tits up.

The sham of a relationship played out for several years, in fact, before she’d finally realized he wasn’t willing to try a damn thing to make intimacy work, realized that he wouldn’t admit it because he was terrified of losing stable housing and someone he could take advantage of.

“Your expression makes me doubt that,” Astarion said, yanking her back to the conversation. She laughed bitterly yet again.

“When I told you I was a disaster, I meant it. The second guy wasn’t really attracted to me so I spent that whole relationship thinking a whole different set of things was wrong with me.” 

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, and Jen was glad that she could focus on Onyxia sitting in the window sill, cleaning herself instead of trying to meet Astarion’s gaze.

“My sexual history’s not all bad. My late husband,” she said, voice hitching on the word late, “was a damned saint. I finally thought to hell with it, so drove ten hours to meet him for what I thought would be a one night stand.”

Astarion choked out a laugh.

“Oh, so you are open to the idea, then.”

“Well, I was. I figured, after that second disaster of an intimate relationship, that I needed to get my crush on him out of my system. He was always a ‘hit it and quit it’ type, so I figured he’d only want something casual, and I could see how that went. It did not go according to my brilliant plan, as evidenced by the fact that we ended up married.”

Jen was smiling now, remembering the scene that had played out while watching a movie in Jer’s living room.

“Gods, you should have seen me trying to figure out how the hell to make a move on him. I kept texting my sister asking if sitting with my leg touching his on the couch was being too forward.”

“Oh, my dear,” Astarion breathed at her. “Well, I suppose something finally worked?”

“Only because my husband head more social savvy in his pinky finger than I did in my entire damn brain. Luckily, my ‘sit close to him’ move was enough and he took it from there.”

Jen colored, thinking back to the night that had followed.

“Anyway, I don’t want to give the impression that a single night fixed everything, but it was my first step in a healthy direction at any rate. Turns out, when I finally found myself in a healthy relationship, sex still felt wrong somehow. It felt shameful and confusing even though we both wanted it and we were committed to each other.”

He frowned, lines etched deeper into his face. “If that’s how you feel about it, then why do you have all those toys?”

“Because I was trying to work through it. I finally realized what was going on, had been getting so much better with Jer at enjoying things. And then the wreck happened,” she said.

And I got stuck like this.

The weight of all the things she’d lost when she had lost him started to squeeze the breath out of her again.

“I lost everything that night.”

“Well,” said Astarion, voice uncharacteristically rough. “You’ve painted an emotional state that I understand all too well.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have no need to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong.” He paused and looked at her curiously. “May I ask a question, though?”

“Since I’m apparently in a spilling my guts mood, sure. Go for it.”

“Are you just going to be celibate forever now?”

She stared at him. 

“Well, no, I-”

She started to argue and then realized that unless something gave, she was. She’d sworn off getting close to anyone because she wasn’t willing to suffer the pain of loss any longer. She couldn’t bring herself to do anything outside of a relationship because she hadn’t quite moved past the lingering shame and guilt.

“Shit.”

Astarion gave her a dry smile.

“You see the problem, I take it, my dear. I can’t tell you what you truly want or when you’ll figure it out, but take it from me. You can overcome this.”

It was a pretty thought. Maybe a parallel universe her would have jumped in the tub with him on night one, not a care in the world beyond dripping hot wax on each other and moaning in mutual passion. She snorted.

Yeah. Right.

“If I thought I could just let go and have fun, gods, I’d have jumped you in the tub days ago.”

He chuckled and looked at his nails with a smug smile.

“Well, I didn’t necessarily mean now or with me.”

Jen felt her cheeks glowing again and stared down at her curling, fidgeting toes.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. Even if you are bafflingly willing. You’ve seen how I react, and you’re…”

Gorgeous? Dangerous? Not for beginners? Something like that? Jen shook her head with a sharp jerk. His look of amusement made her stomach flip all over again, so she plowed on.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people out there willing to have a good time, though. Even here, not everyone is a repressed mess. You could always go find other women, or men, and bring them home for some fun. I wouldn’t begrudge you that as long as I don’t have to listen to it all night.”

“If you weren’t listening to it all night, my dear, then I wouldn’t be doing my job.”

Jen could have sworn she felt her soul leave her body, evaporating off of beet red cheeks through the fingers she found splayed across her face. Astarion cleared his throat.

“Apologies.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t apologize for being you. This is my shit to deal with.”

They trailed off, and she noticed that Astarion’s mood had changed again. He wasn’t sitting straight, curious and alert. He was slumped forward, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing.

“You ok?” she asked, worried that the subject had gone too far. He didn’t respond for a moment.

“I sometimes forget just how much work it was, taking that step. Just how terrifying and difficult it is when you have no idea what you’re doing, but know that you want something different, something better.”

Jen had nothing to say to that, and found her breath caught in her throat instead. She listened to the rain drumming on the tin roof of the screened porch beside them. Her voice came out small and unsure.

“Astarion, you don’t owe me any answers, but how did you get to where you are now?”

He said nothing for a breath, but then, to her surprise, he answered.

“I thought that the disgust and self-loathing would never fade, that I was broken. Tainted. That I’d lost another piece of myself forever to-” he stopped abruptly, “to my past. I was heartbroken when I went to Tav. I expected her to call me all the foul things I was calling myself and then cast me out, but she didn’t.”

Another moment of silence and rain.

“She didn’t. She embraced me.” His words tumbled out on top of each other now. “I honestly don’t remember what I was thinking -- if I was thinking -- then. But I remember the single ray of light that I suddenly felt beaming down inside me. I remember stepping into it, desperate for its warmth, feeling like I wasn’t worthy, certain it would be taken from me, extinguished, leaving me to rot in the darkness.

“But it wasn’t. Every day it grew a little stronger, a little brighter, until I could see myself again. I may have lost the sun a short time later, but it didn’t matter. I found the only light I needed. Tav gave it to me. Tav was my light until I was strong enough to find my own buried within me. Gods, we had so many happy decades together. And then she was gone.”

Silence swallowed the room. Jen heard a ragged breath beside her.

“We’ll find her,” Jen whispered.

Astarion said nothing. Jen could feel the doubt and loss bleeding out of him and knew there wasn’t anything more she could say to dispel it. He would have to vanquish it himself. She would do what she could to help, but he had his battles before him just as she had hers.

“Well,” he said suddenly, sitting straighter and slapping his knees. “Thank you for telling me. This has been cheery. Shall I go get the facial mask again?”

She breathed out in a short laugh in spite of herself.

“Sure.”

He walked to the TV console and pulled out the facial mask again before turning and looking at her.

“If you find your courage, darling, you have an open door with me, you know.”

She smiled sadly.

“I appreciate it, truly, but I don’t know if I’d survive you.”

“Can you live with the alternative, though, my dear?”

“What do you mean?”

“We spend all this time together on our quest, you fight yourself every step of the way, and you win. When I’m gone, will you be able to live with never having taken the chance? Losing the sweet for fear of the bittersweet?”

She sat in silence, felt her face grow wet with silent tears.

“You can’t let fear keep you from living, darling.”

“I’m so scared to try again.”

“Gods, I know, darling. I know. But you will find a way.”

Jen wasn’t sure she believed him. But the fact that he wasn’t calling her a prude or ridiculous or childish or uptight or anything else helped her feel a little less hopeless.

“Astarion?”

“Hm?”

“Do you give hugs? I think I need one.”

He smiled warmly at her and opened his arms.

“I give marvelous hugs. Come here.”

Jen stood up, took three steps, and collapsed against him. He caught her with a quiet umph as she knocked the air out of him and then squeezed her against him.

“I’m a disaster,” she whispered into his chest.

“We all are,” he sighed back, holding her tight a moment longer. “Now let’s see if this mask can help patch you up tonight. Plus, I’d like to watch that delicious chef break some more hearts.”

Notes:

It's tough being a woman in the American South. I really debated whether to include this in Jen's character or not given that she's got plenty of other problems, but it felt disingenuous to leave it out when I know so many woman from this culture have faced something similar throughout their lives. It also really lets some of Astarion's own healing shine through and let me play with the hilarity of unexpectedly walking in on Astarion going through your bedroom toys.

The good news is, the tower is starting to crumble. The "eventual smut" promised in the tags is written at this point and it's doing wonders motivating me to bring the story up to that point. :)

Chapter 23: The Swamp

Summary:

The duo pick up the BG3 file that had been neglected. Astarion has realized this might not be all fun and sunshine, and while he wants to continue, it's up to Jen to help him through it.

23. The Swamp

Jen woke up miserable, again, and called in a PTO day. This came as no surprise to her boss, who knew that nothing would trigger a migraine more reliably than Jen being forced to drive through hours of traffic for some corporate bullshit reason. She was rarely functional the day after in-person day.

She lay in bed, grateful that it was still dark at this hour during winter.

The previous evening after she’d arrived home had been a bit of a blur to her. The rainy road, the anxiety calling Izzy, the panic of seeing Astarion wielding her own sex toys at her, and the resulting meltdown all boiled down into a gloopy mess that seemed to have turned her brain to sparking jello by morning.

This is fine, she thought, lying there in the dark, staring at the curtains.

She did find it odd that the cats hadn’t already woken her for breakfast, until she heard the unmistakable clatter of dishes and the snap of the plastic packaging.

Huh.

Jen reached for the nightstand, glad to find the ever present glass of water Astarion insisted on plying her with every morning. She used it to swallow her pill before laying back and closing her eyes, keeping herself still against the pain.

Small boon that she didn’t seem to have the nausea today.

“Well, my dear, I can’t say I’m surprised to find you unwell this morning,” said Astarion, strolling in like it was his room that she happened to be occupying.

She grunted at him in response.

“I’ve taken care of your clowder. Couldn’t stand any more of Eva’s whinging. And Wabbajack seems to fancy cardboard hors d'oeuvres, which can’t be good for him.”

Jen lay still and quiet, rather liking just listening to him ramble at the moment.

“I take it you won’t be slaving away today, then? And you certainly won’t be wanting to venture out on our quest.”

Even the thought of going out into the sun made her flinch in anticipated pain.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Ice pack,” she asked hopefully.

Astarion hopped up on the bed beside her, grabbed the remote, and casually reached over to lay his hand on her forehead.

Jen sighed in relief, then thought about arguing that this wasn’t what she meant, but then turned toward him before her jello brain had time to protest.

“I tell you what,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice, “you can borrow this chilled flesh of mine for a while if you’ll agree to keep playing this Baldur’s Gate game with me.”

Jen blinked in confusion.

Agree to keep playing? She’d already agreed to play it through with him. Maybe he thought it was off the table after their spat last weekend. They hadn’t touched the file since, after all. Jen had figured he’d just wanted to focus on other things, like finding Tav as soon as possible.

She lay still, muddling through thoughts in slow motion. It felt like trying to make a wearable necklace out of jello cubes, which proved to be beyond her skill currently, so she gave in to what the skull gremlin was whispering to her, rolled toward Astarion, and scooched in close.

“So all I’ve got to do to cuddle in bed with you is not try to cuddle in bed with you,” he asked, amused.

“Careful,” she grumbled back.

This was fine, as long as she didn’t have the energy or motivation to think herself out of it anyway.

“Hm,” he said, sinking down into a more comfortable position next to her before draping an arm across her. Jen pressed her burning forehead against his chest with a sigh. He was like a talking full body aromatherapy ice pack that could keep her company and it was perfect.

Man, she was going to have to find another one when he left with Tav.

At least she knew it was theoretically possible now. The sparking jello passing for a brain in her skull flashed an image of an intricately lettered sign in front of her. It read ‘Jen’s House for Vampire Acclimatization: Meals Provided.’ Her gremlin approved with a giggle.

“You can put the show on,” she said quietly. “As long as I’m not looking at it, I’ll be ok.”

“Your agreement, first, my dear?”

“Huh?”

“Our game.”

“Oh. Yes. That’s fine.”

“Good. I was hoping you’d come back around, darling,” he said, giving her a light squeeze.

“Moving bad. Talking ok.”

“Right. Apologies.”

Astarion put Below Deck on again and Jen half listened as she drifted, soaking in the cool, calm of his nearness. He was saying something again, but she wasn’t really listening any longer. Something about the show, it seemed. Gossipy and catty. She smiled and fell back into sleep to wait for the medicine to take effect.

When she woke, Astarion was still beside her, though the television was off and he was scrolling on his phone for the time being. She wasn’t snuggled up against him any longer, but all the same, she thought about pretending to be asleep for just a minute more. She discarded the notion, figuring that he could probably tell from her heart rate that she was awake.

The pain was dull again, and she found herself able to at least string a sentence together without much difficulty.

“What you up to?”

“Oh, just swiping through faces.”

“Oh? Anyone promising?”

He sighed.

“No, not yet.”

Unfortunate. Guess she’d be keeping her ice pack another day at least. Jen rubbed an eye, clearing a crusty sleepy out of the corner of it, taking a moment to cast back and figure out what he’d been bugging her about this morning.

“So you still want to continue our Baldur’s Gate campaign?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’d figured you’d given up on it.”

“Of course not. I still have to see how this story goes in your world.”

Jen scowled at the closed curtains. It was a phenomenal story that had consumed hours and hours of her life, but she found herself standing in Astarion’s shoes suddenly, looking at himself on the screen, scars open to the entire world.

“It’s not easy to watch at times,” she said.

And I’m not the one who went through it.

Astarion understood the unspoken half of the sentence, sighing in response.

“No. I imagine it won’t be.”

“Ok, well, you tell me if you need to stop at some point. We can pause whenever.”

“I was thinking we could continue today, if you’re feeling well enough, my dear.”

“I guess. The day’s a write off at this point.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Making progress in my digital adventure hardly seems like a write off.”

To him maybe. She wasn’t being productive, and that meant another day was wasted as far as she was concerned. No work done. No fossils found. No closer to Tav. Ergo, day wasted.

“If you say so. Let me get some noodles in me and we can fire it back up.”

Neither Jen nor Astarion said anything as she skipped through the bits of the romance scene that he’d already seen. It felt almost blasphemous to her, but she wasn’t about to risk blowing up their growing friendship with her stupidity again. She breathed a deep sigh of relief as Tav passed the arcana check this time, asking why his scars were written in infernal, and watching digital Astarion’s shock as he took in this new piece of information.

“Infernal? I… who knows? The bastard was insane. Now let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Jen started the day after romance night as she always did: walking straight over to Astarion’s tent and telling him he could feed on her later if he wanted to. She sat in shock as a set of lines she’d not expected queued up; this was the first time in this file that she’d approached him and told him she was on the menu, actually.

“My sweet, there is nothing I’d like more. I’ll come to you tonight, when you’re snuggly wrapped in your bedroll, and we can have a little privacy.”

She blushed furiously. She always squirmed at this scene, but now that she knew what it actually entailed…

“And this time I’ll make sure I’m quiet - we don’t want to disturb your rest. But I will taste you - savour you. Just enough to give me strength and just enough to leave you wanting more.”

Jen pushed a thumbnail into her fingertip, wishing for the billionth time that she could control her heart rate, as Astarion giggled behind her.

She knew what that laugh was for, though her daily expression of consent tended to take place right before she went to bed, not first thing in the morning. It made her feel slightly less degenerate, at least.

They loaded back in the middle of the blighted village, and Jen opened the quest log to get her bearings. Get help from Ethel, rescue the druid, find the creche, investigate Kagha…

It was looking like the swamp may have been a good move. If Astarion was up for it.

“You good if we head toward Gandrel today?”

“I think so,” he said with a sigh. “Can’t put it off forever.”

“I mean, you could.”

He chuckled.

“No, darling, you’re not worming your way out of this.”

She hmphed at him, leading the party out of the southern gate, killing every goblin between them and the path down to the ‘Sunlit Wetlands’ where Jen started the conversation with Auntie Ethel. She’d been a bit dense on the first run. She’d picked up that Ethel was something out of the ordinary, but she’d not pieced together that she was a hag yet.

Which is how the pair of brothers wound up instagibbed on the ground as Ethel vanished deeper into the wetlands.

“You know, I think Ethel is one of my favorite characters,” she mused as she led the party over toward the waypoint in front of the tea house.

“The fey are quite entertaining, my dear. Dangerous, but hilarious. It was almost a shame we ended up-”

He stopped talking, turning and looking at Jen as though he would ruin the surprise. She finished for him.

“Having to kill her?”

“Yes.”

“She’s got some brutal vicious mockery lines in the game. Better than the default bard ones a lot of times.”

“Do you know what she called me when we fought her?”

“What?”

“A petulant, puss-sucking puppet!”

“Fucking hell,” Jen laughed. “That one is not in the game. But damn.”

Astarion humphed and sniffed before cracking a smile.

“Most hags are like her. It makes them all extra fun to murder.”

“Uh, are hags… on the menu so to speak?”

“Gods below, I would never. I’m convinced they’re more fungus than anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she snorted, failing the roll to expose the wetlands for what they really were at first glance. Hardwired from a thousand hours of seeking approval points, she walked up to the first sheep she saw and struck up a conversation.

This time, she was able to melt the illusion and ‘baa’ and the redcap, eliciting a giggle.

About the time they unlocked the waypoint, Gale spoke up on screen.

“I see you waste no time pursuing your quarry, Astarion. Tell me, do you always woo your lovers with such patient attention?”

“I rather thought I was a little slow this time. Usually they’re begging me to drain them on the first night.”

Jen flushed at his response knowing that while he was lying in context, he’d probably never said anything more true.

“So I know you and Tav ended up together, but did she, er, give it a whirl with anyone else?”

“Oh no, I got my teeth into her early and the poor thing was hooked.”

Well. At least it wasn’t just her, then.

“Did you have to put up with their snide bullshit in real life, too?”

“Some. Gale in particular was pining over her. Wyll was just being protective, worried that the poor dear was being used.”

Jen sat in silence for a moment, debating whether to pursue that line of inquiry further knowing that he had, in fact, not started the fling with the best of intentions. Astarion sighed. 

“Your silence is telling, darling. Wyll wasn’t wrong, at least not at first.”

“Karlach expresses concerns in game, too. Something about riding you to the fey wild and back but being careful about trusting you.”

He giggled.

“That does sound like her.”

“You want me to keep doing what I did the first playthrough, yeah?”

“Please.”

They listened to Gandrel introduce himself, apologizing for the smell and Jen watched Tav side eye Astarion as he strode forward to antagonize the man.

‘Pardon, but who or what is a Gur?’

“So you mentioned the Gur when you said you went hag hunting. I take it you ended up on better terms with them?”

“Yes. Eventually.”

“Similar goal in Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes.”

‘So what monster are you hunting?’

Jen and Astarion watched in silence as Gandrel expanded upon his current quest. She stole a glance behind her.

Astarion was watching the screen intently, sitting very, very still.

She’d told him they could stop whenever; she was going to have to trust he knew his limits and would speak up if he needed to stop.

‘Time for us to go! Good luck with your quest.’

The party quickly retreated to the bottom of the hill, where Jen immediately turned and talked to digital Astarion.

‘So there’s a monster hunter after you?’

“So it would seem. Hopefully he bumps into some gnolls while stumbling around at night and that’s the last we hear from him.”

‘But why was he hunting you? What did you do?’

“I didn’t do anything! I was kidnapped - just like you. It seems Cazador wants me back.”

Jen couldn’t help but glance behind her at the name, noticing how stiffly Astarion sat. The complete and utter lack of any reaction whatsoever. Jen could feel the pit in her stomach at the mention of the name and knew that no matter how heavy hers felt, his must be a thousand times worse. She clicked the next option quickly, deciding to get through this as swiftly as possible for his sake.

‘You’re sure Cazador’s behind this?’

“It was him, I’m sure. Only he would know to send the Gur after me. It was a group of Gur that attacked me that night in Baldur’s Gate. I would have died had Cazador not appeared and saved me.”

Jen grimaced. It was one thing playing a game and learning about her new vampire companion. It was another making him relive it behind her. She’d have picked differently, but if he wanted the original story…

‘Saved you by turning you into a vampire slave?’

“Well, he didn’t mention the ‘slave’ clause at the time. And now he sends a Gur monster hunter for me? It’s a message. He’s reminding me of his power. Even in the middle of nowhere he can reach me. And he wants me back.”

‘But why capture you? Why not just kill you?’

“Maybe he wants to make an example of me. To show what happens to runaways.”

Jen swallowed at the thought of how Cazador would have ‘made an example’ of Astarion, closing her eyes tightly for a moment, feeling the sorrow rise within her, and the rage that immediately followed, the desire to blitz through acts one and two, straight to three, march right through Wyrm's Rock, into the lower city, up the tower and down to the dungeon to destroy the monster.

“Or maybe he thinks death is too good for me.”

‘Well, you’re safe with me.’

“Safe? You think I’m safe? Do you know the power a vampire lord possesses? He can change shape; turn into mist; call wolves to do his bidding; shrug off blows like they’re nothing. He could walk into our camp tonight and kill you with his bare hands. And you’d be lucky if death was the worst thing that happened to you.”

Jen recalled how contagious Astarion’s alarm had been in her first playthrough. How his dread started to wake the panic in her that a fight was imminent. Looming. Coming for them when they weren’t ready. How he must have felt the entire time from the moment he was kidnapped to the moment Cazador lay dead at his feet. Gods.

‘Can he do that? Just walk into our camp?’

“Probably not. He has to rest in his crypt during the day. I’ve never known him to leave Baldur’s Gate. But he has no end of lackeys. He’ll send someone else in his place. We just have to be vigilant. Keep our eyes open. And kill any monster hunters on sight. We can probably make an exception for Wyll. Probably…”

Jen risked a glance behind her again as the inquiry came to a close. Astarion hadn’t moved.

She selected the digital him, crept up behind Gandrel, and shanked him to start combat, sending Tav running up beside him immediately to help.

This elicited a breath and a dry chuckle, finally, as the party made quick work of the unfortunate monster hunter. Jen hadn’t learned until many runs later that you could simply let him live without any real ill effects, and that you’d actually meet him again later if you did.

As Actual Astarion looted the corpse, and everything else in sight, she spoke up.

“That’s it for tough talks for a while, I think. Face mask or goblin killing?”

She heard a soft exhalation of amusement behind her.

“Goblin killing.” He paused, and his voice grew quiet. “If that’s the last mention for a while, at least.”

Jen wracked her brain, flipping rapid fire through the hefty folder of Astarion interactions she had stored within her skull. As long as they avoided the Necromancy of Thay for now, it should be.

“Let’s go break a hunky elf out of jail.”

“Oh yes,” purred Astarion. “He most certainly was. I imagine you’re very into Halsin.”

I’d let Halsin be very into me, giggled the skull gremlin.

Jen cleared her throat.

“I am a sucker for a woodsy type.”

And she wouldn’t mind going back to being a closet nudist, if there wasn’t, y’know, an eye-meltingly gorgeous vampire currently preventing her from being so in her own damn home.

Astarion sniggered behind her.

“You need to watch your phrasing, darling.”

“Huh? Oh. Sucker. Wood. Ha ha.”

Astarion giggled, running off ahead as they talked their way past the guards in the goblin camp, sitting back and pulling his hands off the keyboard in mild alarm when the cutscene with the chosen three interrupted his progress.

“Don’t talk to Volo,” Jen said, thinking three steps ahead. “Let me do that.”

“But I adore Volo!”

“You adore him? He’s an idiot.”

“That’s why I adore him. If you can’t be clever, at least be an idiot. I’ll be entertained either way.”

Jen snorted.

“Well, you’ll love what I’m about to do to him, then. Just let me talk to him first.”

Jen made Volo squirm, one upping everything he said and smirking while the man stuttered and suffered, Astarion’s laughter egging her on the whole time. She brought the group around the outside of camp, climbing onto the hill at the back to take stock of everything.

She’d not realized until she was literally in the building that the goblins weren’t automatically hostile that first run, so to stay true to it, she began picking packs apart in camp from the top down, starting by letting Astarion execute the sleeping drunkards one by one, finishing the only one to wake up with a bite.

This tactic elicited a purring comment, as she had a hunch it would.

“Oh, using the teeth I see.”

“If it’s low enough health to kill it with fangs, I kill it with fangs. Kind of figured it’s more fun for you that way.”

He giggled and Jen swallowed at the dark note hidden in it.

That’d be a yes.

“We’re out of short rests so let’s do a long one to recharge our poor wizard back there.”

Astarion sniggered again and acquiesced. Camp skipped loading in and immediately began the turning sequence with Lae’zel. Astarion watched, taking it all in with interest, as the scene progressed. Tav disarmed Lae’zel with a bit of persuasion, then they went to bed, where they met the Dream Guardian for the first time.

Jen had been enamored with this figure on run one. She’d fully fallen for the bit at first, awed by the setting and etherealness of the scene, the figure’s insistence that she was important in the coming fight, that she had a mysterious ally willing to help.

Upon Tav’s awakening, Jen walked straight over to Astarion to get his take on this dream figure. By this point, she had been deeply infatuated with the man and had a habit of agreeing with him if she didn’t have a strong opinion herself. She ended their conversation by telling him, as always, that he could bite her again that night.

She suffered through digital Astarion’s response and the quiet snort behind her in tandem. She really, really ought to get around to finding or trying to create a toggle instead of having to slink over and blush at him first thing in the morning every damn morning.

Back in camp, they continued picking apart the goblins below, drawing the bulk of the camp into the chicken chasing arena and holding an advantageous position through a combination of darkness, fire, and cloud of daggers. Karlach and Lae’zel front lined the narrow opening while Astarion danced through the field eliminating weakened opponents. Tav and Shadowheart pushed to help where they could, leaving Wyll and Gale slinging spells from the high ground as enemies pressed too close.

Once the entire camp lay littered with goblin corpses, leaving Actual Astarion running around picking up everything in sight, Jen considered how to handle the interior.

She’d missed a lot of content and flubbed the rest in the first playthrough. She’d not discovered Loviator’s follower Abdirak, nor the torture victim nearby. She had found the Zhent and made use of a handy vendor, but had completely botched the fight against the leaders, somehow managing to pull both Minthara and Ragzlin into combat at the same time.

This had resulted in a hell of a Saturday afternoon burning through revive scrolls and dancing through the rafters trying to stay out of reach of carnage.

For simplicity’s sake, she opted to not pull the entire camp at once this time, and led the group around picking off patrols and smaller groups a pack at a time. By the time they were ready to either go downstairs to Halsin or confront Ragzlin, the wizard amongst them was in desperate need of another long rest.

Jen brought them back to camp, noticed an exclamation point above Astarion, and walked over to see which scene it was.

“There you are! My friend.”

The bear! She liked this one. Drunk Astarion was somehow terrifying and hilarious and philosophical all at once and she was always down for that.

‘Are you drunk?’

“I have drunk. Not alcohol, of course. A bear. He took a little of my blood, I took all of his.”

‘Sounds like a dangerous meal.’

“So’s any meal worth having. It's nothing compared to - well, other things I could be dining on. But significantly better than the rats and bugs Cazador served me.”

Jen froze. She’d completely forgotten Cazador came up again in this one. Jen threw a worried glance over her shoulder, and closed her eyes in a pang of empathy as she noted Astarion’s stillness again.

“I’m sorry - there’s not a way to tell which one this was ahead of time. I forgot you mention him again here. We can stop.”

Jen forced herself to sit through the silence behind her, to wait for his response. To just keep her mouth shut and let the man decide what he wanted.

“I-”

He sighed.

“We’re already in the thick of it, so we might as well push through.”

Jen nodded, selecting the next response on screen.

‘Does it matter? Blood is blood, isn’t it?’

“Not at all! Blood is life essence. And some creatures have so much more life than others. Cazador gave me just enough to keep me - well, ‘alive’, for lack of a better word. But never more than that. Still, that was the past. I’ll never have to grovel for him again.”

‘True, you can start over. You can be better than what he made you.’

“Exactly! I can be better than him. Stronger. More powerful. More - oh, you meant ‘be kinder’? Pet bunnies, that sort of thing? I’ve no objection to being nice, of course. Once I have the power to bend others to my will.”

Astarion did not giggle along with himself this time.

‘You think power lets you do anything, free from consequences?’

“Well… yes. You can’t look at the world and tell me I’m wrong.”

Jen had realized that she didn’t disagree with him entirely when she’d gotten that line the first time. It sure as hell felt accurate given the state of the world, and it made complete sense why he’d see it that way, too. Uncomfortable, she’d picked the most light-hearted response.

‘Careful, there are heroes about. I’d hate for them to get the right idea about you.’

“Let them. Heroes are half the damn problem. Fools that believe in right and wrong - good and evil. Heroes didn’t save me from Cazador: mind flayers did. They gave me a gift: the strength to take my own freedom. I’m embracing this power - you should too.”

Even all this time later, she wasn’t sure his sentiment was wrong, though ultimately, it wasn’t mind flayers that had truly saved him. It had been the people he’d come to call his friends. Jen stared at the back of the man behind her, sad to feel his complete and utter stillness, wanting to make it better, but knowing there was only so much she could do.

She saved the file and closed it out, standing and walking into the living room, where she retrieved his shower caddy full of -- what the hell even was all this -- and brought it into the game room.

“Ok, which of these do I put on you first,” she asked, crouching down beside him.

Astarion looked down at her, face taut, eyes far away. She picked up one she knew for certain was actually somewhere at the end of this convoluted process.

“This one?”

He looked at it and exhaled a tiny little laugh.

“No, darling,” he responded, moving at last. “This one first.”

She took the tube from him and looked up.

“May I?”

A hint of a smile returned to his face, and he let out an exaggerated sigh.

“I suppose.”

Jen smiled.

Notes:

So, my writing process is a bit chaotic, which often means chunks get written out of order, part way through, or shoved in a random spot to be drawn upon later. In practice, this means that the next like, six chapters, all got done about the same time because I was jumping around between them the whole time.

Which means there'll be a small flurry of posts since I'm ahead of myself this weekend. Most notably, this includes the Christmas holiday, so happy Christmas in July, everyone! :)

Chapter 24: Road Trip

Summary:

Astarion isn't pleased about sitting in the car for four hours, but makes a surprising discovery.

24. Road Trip

Astarion sneered down at the car, not at all pleased that he was going to be in it for the next four hours of his hopefully not about to be abruptly cut short life.

Jen leaned forward and looked up at him from inside the vehicle.

He swallowed his displeasure, opened the door, and situated himself in the seat, ensuring that this safety belt was fastened before turning the heated seat to ‘On.’ He did like that feature. Could make a killing with the idea when he got back to Baldur’s Gate if he sold it to the right people.

Heated carriage seats.

Hm.

Astarion tensed as the car began moving, and then settled into his seat as he adjusted to the feeling.

“So,” exclaimed Jen, drumming her hands on the steering wheel as they waited at a light. “Road trip! You want tunes or stories or what?”

“Whatever you prefer,” he waved.

“Jen’s random road mix it is!”

Jen had worked a half day today, so Astarion had spent the morning gathering what he considered to be his essentials into a backpack, discovered that it wasn’t nearly big enough, asked Jen for a larger one, was given a ‘duffle bag,’ which still wasn’t big enough, and finally given an appropriately sized cloth trunk on wheels called a suitcase.

Items packed, he’d spent time researching this holiday some more, getting some idea of what to expect. It seemed similar to midwinter in many ways, which he found comforting. Feasting, socializing, gift giving; the standard feast day activities. 

“Alright, so. Let’s talk holiday plan.”

Astarion looked up from his phone and sighed. This woman was obsessed with thinking every last little thing through.

“Are you sure this is necessary, my dear?”

“Yes.”

He disagreed but she wasn’t going to let it go unless he indulged her, which in this case likely meant sitting through whatever stream of consciousness her skull had cooked up for the occasion. He glanced out the window, wondering idly if he could leap from a car moving this fast and how long it would take him to recover if he did.

“No biting in Arkansas.”

Well, starting with an argument then.

“Why not, my sweet,” he crooned, hoping he could talk her out of it if he reminded her just how much she enjoyed these meals. How she was also going to be going without.

“Because if my sister, or John, sees you leaning over me covered in blood they’re going to shoot you or call the cops or both.”

He waved her concerns off, certain they’d be able to soothe over any unfortunate misunderstandings between the pair of them.

“I’ve been shot before. I’ll survive an arrow or two.”

“I promise bullets will be far less fun to survive.”

Astarion was unsure what a bullet was, but it sounded similar to a bolt, which were indeed, by and large, less fun to get hit by. Packed a little more punch. Tended to be harder to remove.

“No biting,” she stated, giving him a suspicious look.

“Yes, understood,” he sneered back. “So what will I be allowed to dine on, then?”

“Anything you find in the woods, and there are far more options up in the mountains than there are at home. You should have no problem remaining fed. Izzy has the basement all set up for us-”

“I’m not staying in a dungeon,” he hissed, mastering a wave of panic.

“It’s not a dungeon. It’s a walk out basement, open to the outside. Lots of windows. Has a door you can sneak out and everything. Leads right into the woods.”

He exhaled. As long as he didn’t feel trapped. Well, if their accommodations meant that he wasn’t going to have to walk a mile to pick up the scent of anything worthwhile, that would be a plus, he supposed.

“You’ll get the guest room and they’ve got an inflatable mattress set up down there for me. Guest room’s got a bathroom attached to it, so you shouldn’t have any trouble washing off discreetly.”

Jen paused, fussed at the car that attempted to pass them on the right, called the driver an idiot, and scoffed as it got stuck behind a large truck. Astarion grinned and waved as they passed.

“Now,” Jen continued, “as far as Izzy knows, we met at a con. You’re an Astarion impersonator. She is never going to believe the actual story, so we’ll just go with what she’d expect.”

“A good plan,” he replied.

“And easy to execute. Your red eyes are contact lenses, your fangs and ears are stage makeup. Everything else is human enough that it won’t come up.”

“And what is a ‘con’ again, my dear?”

He didn’t think she meant an illegal heist in this context, so best to clarify.

“Convention. Gathering of people who like a specific thing, be it shows or games or whatever. In our case, it would be a gaming convention.”

“Ah.”

He opened the camera on his phone, which he’d figured out he could do without actually having to unlock the device first. This was incredibly handy for someone who needed to check their reflection for its continued existence constantly. He grinned at himself, satisfied, and turned the screen off again.

“Astarion.”

“Hm?”

“You heard me?”

He hadn’t. Whatever it was likely didn’t matter all that much.

“Yes, yes. Fine.”

“I think you and Izzy will get along. She’s… more social than I am.”

Astarion snorted. That certainly wasn’t a high bar.

“If you want more trash TV recs, she’ll have them. And probably be more than happy to talk makeup and hair care and whatever the hell else with you. Don’t touch the gifts, even the ones with your name on them until-”

Astarion had stopped listening to her list of rules, however, noticing the music for the first time as it transitioned to a new song. It was a song he knew all too well, a song his Tav had composed for him . About them.

He sat up straighter, listening intently. Yes. It was absolutely the same song, but he could barely hear it because Jen was still talking. He held a hand up to stop her.

“Hold on,” he interrupted. “Make it louder!”

“Huh?”

“Make it louder! This is Tav’s song!”

Jen glanced at one of the dials on the center console and spun it before looking over at him curiously. He ignored her, waited for the first verse to begin.

‘I feel your breath upon my neck
A soft caress as cold as death.
I didn’t know you well back then,
I blame it all on luck and vain.’

“I Want to Live,” she said. “Tav wrote this?”

“Yes. You know it?”

“Of course I know it,” she laughed. “I sing it all the time.”

Astarion had never once heard Jen sing. The idea of the little mud mephit belting anything out in a public performance struck him as hilarious.

“You sing?”

“Not in front of people I don’t.”

Ah yes, well, that made more sense. But why sing if not for attention? The little weirdo.

Astarion felt something tug at him suddenly, tickling the edge of his mind. If Tav’s song existed here, too, lyrics and all, then maybe…

“Who wrote this song in your world,” he asked urgently.

“A dude called Borislav Slavov.”

Gods damn it. He slumped back in the seat.

“A chick called Ilona Ivanova sings bits of the original,” Jen offered hopefully, catching on. “She’s the voice of Alfira in game, too. That could be a real lead - she’d definitely be an actress or singer, which seems appropriate.”

Astarion agreed with her assessment. He opened the phone back up and searched the name and the words Baldur’s Gate together, pausing before taking a breath and scrolling.

To his surprise, the woman did actually look really similar to Tav. He swallowed, held himself carefully still, not ready to admit his excitement to himself. He looked again, closer this time. She wasn’t identical, mind you, but the coloring was right. And her facial structure was incredibly close.

“You’re quiet,” said Jen.

“She’s very similar looking, honestly. How would I find out how old she is?”

“Google her name plus the term birthday,” Jen hissed excitedly. 

He did so, his own excitement growing in response to hers.

Alright, so the first sign fit: she looked like Tav. He kept himself contained as he searched hurriedly for confirmation of the second. As for the third, well, he still had no idea what to make of the parchment but this woman may well compose her own music if she was a performer, and surely that may be linked somehow, so he could figure that out after.

Astarion’s face fell as he found an Instagram post from this woman. She was too young. Years too young if the day of Tav’s death was the day of her rebirth as she had wished.

“Damn it,” he growled, turning the screen off, resisting the urge to throw the phone down.

Jen sighed quietly beside him.

“Not her?”

“No. Her age doesn’t line up. You do have three hundred sixty-five days in a year, right, my dear?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well, it was a good thought, but alas.”

He tried to keep his voice light, to not let the wave of disappointment sweep him under again.

“Still no luck with any online dating sites?”

“No. Nothing lines up. Anyone who looks similar isn’t the right age. I’ve swiped through hundreds of faces. Scrolled through thousands more on these social media sites.”

“Not everyone’s on them, so don’t give up hope.”

He wasn’t going to, but gods was it difficult not to sink into despair as the days passed. Once he’d struck the deal with Baba Yaga, he was certain this quest would be nearing its end, but he’d done the math. If he saw every face in Texas, he would have seen the equivalent of half of the population of Faerûn, and it felt like he had seen a million already with nary a sign of Tav.

Jen interrupted his darkening thoughts with a question.

“How long ago did she pass?”

“It will be thirty-nine years soon.”

Four decades. Four decades too long. Gods, he’d been thirty-nine when…

Astarion swallowed and shivered, then stopped himself. He took as much air as he could into his lungs, held it there, heard her voice telling him to remember that he was still a part of this world, whether he needed to breathe or not, and let it out again.

Was he though?

This world was not his.

“You want to listen to something else,” asked Jen quietly.

He didn’t respond, just waved a hand noncommittally as he sat still and quiet, as though the creeping doubt would pass him by if he just stayed perfectly still. Don’t draw its attention. Don’t let it sense he was here. Stay hidden. Small.

Astarion glanced down at the phone in his hand, thought about opening it back up and scrolling some more, looking at more faces, trying to find another website that could help him somehow. He slid it back into his pocket instead, tired. Defeated.

And stuck in this bloody car for hours yet. What an awful start.

“So, uh, Myths and Legends, Old Gods of Appalachia, or Well There’s Your Problem?”

Gods below, he could not care less what drivel she put on the speakers right now.

“I don’t know,” he snapped. 

“How about a book instead,” she tried.

“Darling, I truly do not give a damn.”

Astarion heard her quiet exhalation as he continued staring out the window. In absence of his opinion, Jen let the music simply continue on. 

And then she started singing. Or attempting to. Gods below.

He turned and stared as this crazy woman continued right on singing whatever happened to come on the speakers, loudly, missing notes, switching octaves half way through, but absolutely throwing her voice into it all the same.

Astarion snorted.

“Well, I see why I’ve never heard you sing before. You hadn’t seen fit to torture me yet.”

“Precisely,” she said with a grin. “And now you’re going to get me singing for three and a half more hours unless you tell me what you’d rather listen to.”

She leapt right back into it halfway through a line.

Astarion sighed and shook his head.

“You’re awful.”

“Oh I know. My mom was the vocalist. Not me.”

That hadn’t quite been what he’d meant. He’d heard worse at many a rural tavern. All the same, he was not going to be listening to three more hours of this. He interrupted her, cringing as she missed a particularly high note. Badly.

“What were the options, my dear?”

“Myths and Legends, Old Gods of Appalachia, or Well There’s Your Problem. Ooooo, or we could do an audiobook. I’ve got quite a few vampire stories!”

“You would.”

“Wait. You know Drizzt, right? We could download some of those stories. Maybe they’d make you feel more at home?”

“No, that’s alright. What’s this Problem one about?”

“Catastrophic disasters served up with lots of dark humor.”

“Oh.”

That did sound a bit interesting. Nothing quite like the misfortune of others to take your mind off of your own sometimes.

“Lots of gruesome deaths in some of them,” she added. “And a whole lot of idiocy.”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. Just please, darling, stop singing?”

Jen laughed and turned the music off, focusing back on the road, and yelling at yet another driver, as this show she mentioned started up. She was not wrong about the subject matter being particularly grisly.

Poor unfortunates getting turned into paste never ceased to be funny, though he suspected most of the listeners weren’t left wondering what ‘soup-like homogena’ would taste like. He glanced over at Jen as she chortled at something the hosts said that he didn’t know enough about this realm to understand and then realized something.

This dark humor had lightened his mood tremendously, chasing away the looming miasma. This little idiot next to him had gone and made a complete fool out of herself on purpose. To prod him into having to respond, all just to drag his attention off of yet another failure.

Astarion tilted his head and stared off ahead of them. She was certainly always willing to help him, obviously attracted to him, but being an idiot around him on purpose? That was something Karlach did.

He’d been searching Faerûn alone for years after Tav’s death. Decades wasting time in Baldur’s Gate, watching his few remaining friends age and pass away. Wyll had been the first to pass, and that had been during Tav’s lifespan.

Gale had been the first to pass after Tav, and he’d never really gotten to know the young apprentice who inherited his tower. But Karlach’s death had come next, and it had hit him particularly hard. He’d adored the fiery tiefling and she’d been the first true loss he’d dealt with alone, the first time he realized that he was doomed to lose not only his lover, but his friends as well.

He’d not made many more in their travels, had assumed, he supposed, that his first few would always be there. By the time he’d realized, truly, what their mortality meant for him, he’d already been travelling without Tav for so long, he’d forgotten what even friendly companionship had felt like. How pleasant it had been. How nice it was to not be alone all the time.

He stared at Jen a moment, and she noticed, glanced over at him.

“You good?”

“Yes. Just thinking.”

She eyed him a moment longer, flashed him a brief smile, and turned back to the road. It was nice having someone around again. Someone who could understand. Who liked him just as he was. Someone he’d be willing to call a friend, even. And a rather decent one, for all her many faults.

He hoped they’d find Tav soon. He could introduce the pair; he was quite certain Jen would stand up to Tav’s scrutiny, that Tav would be grateful, even, for her help once this was all sorted. He could quite easily see her taking Jen under her wing, doing what she did and insisting on fixing her up in return. Seeing another one of her nebulous quests in the woman and refusing to leave until Jen had found her way again.

That would be nice, for all of them.

Because when Jen wasn’t being so sour, he found he rather liked her, too, and might even be sad to see her go when all of this was done. It certainly wouldn’t due to leave her as she was.

No. Tav would insist and Tav would know exactly what to do.

They just had to find the bloody woman first.

Notes:

The next four are all Christmas time and I honestly love them all. I can't wait to be able to just *read* them come winter instead of reading, scrutinizing, writing, editing, re-writing, and all that. I love them and I think y'all are gonna like Jen's sister a fair bit.

Chapter 25: Home for the Holidays

Summary:

Jen and Astarion arrive at her sister Izzy's house in the evening. Everyone gets settled in as the festivities start.

25. Home for the Holidays

“Jen!”

Izzy squeezed the socks off of her with the hug she wound Jen up in.

“Good to see you, too,” Jen mumbled, unable to return the gesture as her arms were currently pinned to her sides.

Izzy, short for Elizabeth, was taller than Jen by a couple of inches. She’d always been more of a fitness nut and while not quite a wall of iron, was definitely the stronger of the pair. She’d also inherited their mother’s complexion, making her lighter than Jen in every aspect, who took more after their father’s side of the family.

Jen was released from her prison as Izzy turned to greet Astarion for the first time.

“Hello,” she said, voice making it clear that she found the man in front of her quite nice to look at. “I did not believe my sister when she said you looked like this Astarion character, but damn. You’ve got it down. Don’t stand outside, come on in!”

This caused Jen to snort and Astarion to giggle. They’d been wondering how long it would take her to accidentally give him the direct invitation needed.

“Thank you,” he purred, stepping inside finally.

“Oooh, voice too?”

“Indeed, my dear.”

“She’s married,” said Jen.

“Please. We literally just said hi, Jen. Come on in. John is still downstairs wrapping gifts, but the pups will be so happy to see you.”

Izzy retreated down the front hall toward the baby gate that was keeping the dogs contained to the ground floor and away from the front and the stairs to the second floor.

“Walti-poo! Burrito! Look who’s here! It’s aunt Jenny!”

A fuzzy little floor mop and his companion hound mix came barrelling down the hall toward Jen and Astarion as they closed the door behind them. Walter, more typically called Walt, jumped up and down excitedly, scrabbling at Jen’s knees to be picked up. Burrito snuffed around the newcomers suspiciously before letting out a deep woof, with a friendly tail wag.

“Guess that means you’ve been cleared by security,” Jen remarked, scratching Walt’s ears vigorously as she carried him back toward the kitchen.

“So how was the drive?”

“It’s the holidays. You’re either being tailgated by someone mad the guy three cars up is doing the speed limit, or wondering how the hell trucks forget the laws of physics on hills.”

Astarion, it turned out, was still not at all fond of cars. Jen found this surprising. She had figured he’d enjoy the novelty of it, perhaps be a bit of a daredevil or speed demon. He was decidedly not, clutching at the overhead handle and taking sharp breaths at every little thing between Elm Point and Izzy’s home in the Arkansas hills.

Between that and the drawled out ‘darling’ he'd taken to using in a warning tone whenever he saw something suspicious up ahead, Jen had had to surrender to the fact that he was one of the worst backseat drivers she’d ever had the displeasure of chauffeuring.

“But hey,” she said brightly, “we made it and you’ve got the tea kettle out for me already, I see.”

“Of course,” Izzy replied, sitting on a bar stool at the kitchen island. “Momma K would never have let us get away with poor hospitality.”

Jen snorted and shook her head.

“Truth,” she said, filling the kettle with water and settling it back on its stand to boil. Astarion had crouched in the front hall, thumping Burrito’s flanks as the dog wiggled around on the floor upside down. Izzy followed her gaze and lowered her voice.

“So that’s your ‘Astarion’ is it? Have to say, I am glad he’s not a body pillow. John’s losing that bet.”

“I told you the truth over the phone. He’s a real person.”

“My God, his look is on point.”

“Colored contacts and stage makeup,” recited Jen.

“Can’t fake that facial structure, though.”

“Stage makeup can do a lot, but it was some good luck on his part. When he heard how popular that character had become, the whole gig kind of just fell into his lap.”

Izzy looked back to Jen with a raised eyebrow.

“Where do you find these men? No, don’t. That was a rhetorical question.”

Jen closed her mouth and switched subjects.

“How’s John’s work?”

“Good as ever being a regional manager. Keeps him traveling, but keeps us paid.”

Jen poured the boiling water into a Christmas themed mug that had been set out near the kettle, picking an orange spiced tea, hoping a little zest would help her perk up after the drive.

“The house looks great,” she said, taking her seat.

“Yes,” said Astarion, slipping into the kitchen at last. “It’s very… festive.”

Jen had a strong suspicion that he’d been about to say something less than kind. She didn’t disagree, thought her sister decorated to a tacky degree, but she wasn’t going to say that to her face. The yard was more inflatables and plastic than space and plants at this point. Not to mention there wasn’t a roofline, window, door, bush, or tree left unlit.

“So, Astarion,” said Izzy, turning her attention to her new guest, “not got any family around I take it?”

“No,” he drawled, falling back on what they’d discussed on the way up. “They’re all quite a ways off, and we don’t get along.”

Izzy smiled at that.

“You two have that in common. Jen was always the black sheep in our family.”

Jen scowled into her mug. 

So it begins.

“Oh,” said Astarion, warming to the topic immediately. “Bit of a troublemaker, was she?”

“Oh yes, but that’s not why. She was always off splashing in the woods or climbing trees on her own or busy being a heathen.”

“Some things never change,” he drawled, glancing over at Jen, who continued to drink her tea to keep herself from rising to the bait. “I’d like to hear about this trouble, though. She doesn’t seem like much of a rule breaker.”

“Hah,” said Izzy. “She’s not. But she’ll find a way to bend them so far they might as well be broken. She was our ringleader when we were young, always dragging my friends and I off into trouble.”

“Really,” said Astarion, taking the barstool beside Izzy and leaning on the island.

“One time, our parents were taking a weekend trip over to Hot Springs for Mom’s birthday, and they let Jen babysit me and my bestie for a few hours before our overnight babysitter could get here. So Jen has us scour the whole house for spare change, raiding the couch cushions, checking the coin jar in the mud room, dad’s dresser drawer, searching all over. Once we’d scraped together all this change, she led us through a ‘shortcut’ filled with kudzu over to the gas station a couple miles down the road to spend it all on candy.

“When our parents found me with a big bag of candy and asked where I’d gotten it, they read her the riot act. They confiscated mine, but Jen had cut a hole in the mattress of the top bunk and hid hers in it, so she got to keep it. And she wouldn't even share. Told me I should have hidden mine better.”

Astarion laughed and gasped, covering his mouth in mock shock.

“Scandalous!”

“Mmhm. Nevermind the time she sent my friend running through the park yelling that she was a cooter. Jen convinced her that the word ‘cooter’ meant lovable. Mom was really, really unhappy after a call from Sarah’s mom. Jen was on dish duty for a straight month for that one.”

Astarion’s delighted giggle set Jen grinding her teeth.

“He does not need to hear about my criminal escapades as a literal child, thanks.”

“Oh, I’m rather enjoying them, actually.”

“I’m sure Izzy’s out by now.”

“Not even close. There was the time you brought that slot machine magnet dad got you from Las Vegas to school and started charging all of the kids a nickel to spin it. You’d give them a pencil or an eraser or something if they won. I forget how many dollars you made off of that before teachers put a stop to it.”

Jen chuckled at that one. It had been making her filthy rich for a fifth grader until she’d been scolded and taught what ‘illegal gambling’ was.

Astarion was shaking his head and tutting at her.

“What’s the plan for this evening,” Jen asked, trying to steer the conversation away from herself again.

“Cookies,” Izzy exclaimed brightly. “The dough should be done chilling, so we can cut and bake and then have a decorating party over some wine.”

“Wine,” breathed Astarion, interested all over again.

“Jen told me you liked reds, so I’ve got some for you to pick from.”

“Wonderful, darling,” he purred. Jen bit her tongue to keep herself from snapping that Izzy was married for a second time.

The man flirts. It’s what he does. It doesn’t mean anything. Chill.

“Do you have the goods for gram’s wassail recipe, by chance,” she asked, hopeful.

“Sure do. You want to start on that? I’ll get the dough and decorations out.”

“I’ll take my glass of wine and be out of your way, then,” said Astarion, standing.

“Oh no,” said Izzy, “you’re staying right here. John will be up to help soon, too. Cookie decorating is a family activity, so you’re staying right here with us, Astarion.”

Jen sniggered as his face changed from jovial amusement to displeased awkwardness.

“Yes, Astarion,” she added. “You’re here for the holidays. It would be rude to decline.”

He shot her a look and she smiled smugly at him.

“Decorating cookies,” he sighed, seating himself. “How fun.”

Izzy slid a wine glass to Astarion, and set a couple of bottles in front of him to choose from. Jen retreated to the stove to start the liquid ingredients and spices boiling, slicing the fruit and adding it in as she went.

John came up the stairs, arms laden with freshly wrapped presents to slide under the tree in the living room. He came over, planted a kiss on Izzy before stealing some cookie dough, and turned to greet Jen and Astarion.

“Easy drive, I hope?”

“Easy enough,” Jen responded, stirring the pot of drink. “How’s work?”

“Busy. Prices are all crazy with everything going on.”

Jen grunted and John turned his attention to Astarion, holding his hand out for a handshake. Astarion stood and took it, the pair exchanging polite greetings before John settled on a vacant bar stool.

“Let’s go get our things out of the car and downstairs, now that John’s done,” suggested Jen as the wassail began to simmer. Astarion rose to join her, leaving his freshly poured second glass on the counter.

“I like her,” he said, once they’d stepped outside.

Jen knew he would, and smiled. Nothing quite like having a hunch turn out to be correct.

“I figured you would. She’s the more… socially adept of the pair of us. John’s more the introvert. Grab your stuff and we’ll schlep it downstairs. I’m going to stick these presents under the tree first.”

Astarion took his roller bag and Jen’s backpack back inside, leaving her to deal with the presents. John had disappeared, she noted, as she arranged presents on the tree skirt, so he’d probably shown Astarion downstairs to the guest room, which reminded Jen.

“John,” she said as his head appeared from the basement staircase, “you’ve got that air mattress down there for me, right?”

“Sure do.”

“Thank you,” she said with a sigh of relief. She had half expected Izzy to ‘forget’ it in the ‘busy of the holidays’ or some other thinly veiled excuse.

“Astarion down there?”

“Yup. Freshening up.”

She nodded. Because of course he was trying to slink off and dodge cookies.

“I’ll be back up in a minute.”

John nodded and walked back through the living room toward the kitchen, leaving Jen to slip downstairs. Astarion had his phone out, propped up on the dresser in the small guest bedroom of the walkout basement. The main room of the basement was another sitting area, and had a small screen porch off of the office to the side.

It had been intended as an in-law suite when the house had been built, and typically served as a multipurpose play and guest space now when John and Izzy’s nieces and nephews came to visit. Neither Jen nor Izzy had ever had much interest in having their own children, but John’s siblings had plenty, and as they lived scattered around the general area, they frequently came over to spend time with Auntie Izzy and Uncle John.

Jen rolled her eyes at the pink sheets that her sister had selected for the twin air mattress, jealously noting the more masculine dinosaurs that Astarion got to use.

“You about done,” she asked as Astarion ran his fingers through his hair, no doubt laden with some hair product or another.

“Do I really have to decorate cookies?”

“Yes. Family event. Finish up and let’s go upstairs.”

“I’m not family.”

“You are this week at least. Up.”

Astarion frowned at her and sighed, but stood and trailed after her back up the stairs.

Izzy had gotten all of the decorations out and scattered across the kitchen island. A set of cookies cooled on the wire racks as the smell of a second batch wafted up from the oven. Jen took a glass down from the cabinet and scooped some of the piping hot wassail into it, taking a sip and feeling the stress of the drive melt away.

Looking down at the assortment of shapes on the tray of waiting cookies before her, she opted for the hat first, choosing colors to match the one she’d had Astarion wearing these past few weeks.

“Just dive right in,” Izzy told the elf as he watched Jen get started. Jen caught his skeptical look and placed a tree on the parchment paper in front of him. He ought to be able to manage that at least by now. She knew he’d seen more than one. He drained his glass of wine, sighed, and selected the green icing.

“I thought you vampires were supposed to drink blood,” joked Izzy as she refilled his glass.

“We do.”

“And you can drink alcoholic drinks?”

“Technically, alcohol is a poison, my dear,” he said, sipping his glass as he examined the sprinkles and candies available to decorate with. “A weak one that happens to taste delicious.”

He was too focused on interspersing snowflakes against the tidy lines he’d piped onto the tree in front of him to elaborate any further. Jen looked down at her hat, deemed it ‘good enough’ and put it on the tray set out for decorated cookies.

She selected a gingerbread man next and began decorating, starting by adding some white icing to his torso and arms, leaving a small ‘v’ open at his neck. This she threaded with zigzags of white gel to serve as laces, before adding a nice, wavy frill around the open neck.

Then she added some pants, experimenting with the red, green, and black icing until she got a shade of brown close enough to the camp outfit pants. She slathered this on the legs, adding black shoes with a tiny splash of purple.

Jen followed this up with a few too many loops and swirls of white on the cookie's head before adding two awkwardly placed pointy ears, two red eyes, a nose, a line for a mouth, and two little fangs poking out beneath it.

It was missing something though, she thought, as she looked down at Cookiestarion. She snorted as she realized what her brain thought was off. Grinning, she got up and mixed some milk and powdered sugar, adding enough food color to make the concoction blood red. She kept the consistency of the glaze nice and runny and then proceeded to fling it onto the cookie, pleased as it left little red splatters everywhere.

She looked down at a now thoroughly blood stained Astarion and chuckled.

“Hey Astarion. Look.”

Astarion sighed, finishing adding his last few candy embellishments, before putting his immaculately decorated tree onto the tray. He turned to look at what she held out to him, and Jen burst into laughter at his reaction.

As soon as he realized what he was looking at, he put a hand on his hip and harrumphed disapprovingly at her cookie.

“Really, darling?”

She shrugged, grinning ear to ear.

“I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”

He scowled and took a gingerbread man from the tray, grabbing the blue icing and filling in the legs, leaving big, obvious holes at the knees. He embellished these with dainty threads of white before giving the top a green shirt. Jen watched as he piped an outdoor logo onto it with surprising precision.

She glanced down at her slightly wonky piping and then back at his perfect lines, continuing to watch as he piped details onto the boots and face, holding the cookie at arm’s length to examine it when he was finished.

“There.”

Damn.

It looked good. Really good. Just when she was about to open her mouth and compliment him, he tilted his head.

“No, wait. That’s not quite it,” he drawled sarcastically.

He made a show of placing the gingerbread man back on his parchment paper, snatched her brown icing, and began painting thick splotches all over the cookie’s boots, knees, legs, torso, and even face.

“There,” he proclaimed, “And that is you, you little mud mephit.”

He held the cookie out for her once again. Jen stared at herself in miniature, so obviously painted as she’d been that first day in the woods, shocked expression and all, and burst out laughing all over again.

“What did you call me?”

“Mud mephit,” he sniffed.

Izzy stared at the pair, eyebrows raised, watching Jen with eyes that drank it all in.

“Jen, what is a mud mephit?”

Jen tried to stop laughing and catch her breath, but it took a moment, so Astarion answered in her stead.

“A vile little creature that inhabits fetid swamps and murky waters. Flings muck everywhere. Revels in the stuff.”

“From the video game,” Jen managed to add. “Creature from the game he’s in.”

Jen dug her phone out of her pocket and moved to take a picture of the cookie.

“Oh, no,” said Izzy, dropping her own cookie and taking her phone out instead. “Both of you. Take those by the tree.”

“What,” Jen and Astarion protested in chorus with each other. Izzy’s smile deepened. “Now. You two. Cookies. By the tree.”

“We’re not going to get out of this, Astarion,” Jen lamented, sighing in resignation.

“Embarrassing photos must be a family hobby,” he sneered in response as they trod over to the brightly lit fir tree in the corner. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Say cheeeeeeese!”

Neither of them obliged Izzy. Jen stared directly at her sister with as serious a look as she could muster while Astarion stuck his nose in the air off to the side.

“Perfect! Now if you two are done, we’ve still got at least two trays to go.”

“I think I’ll need more wassail for that,” Jen said.

“And wine,” added Astarion.

“Done and done,” said Izzy.

By the time the rest of the cookies were decorated and Jen was helping pack away decorating supplies, John had a blaze going in the fire ring out back.

Jen took the last of the wassail. John opted for a glass of bourbon, and Izzy and Astarion held a glass of red wine each. They all sat around the fire, bundled in blankets. Jen was wearing her camping poncho, her single most treasured piece of gear. Not only was it practical and functional, it had been her last gift from her father.

She’d known that the nighttime fires would be an ongoing event. Her sister may not have taken to the woods quite like she did, but it was hard to live somewhere with such natural beauty and not at least enjoy a warm fire in the cold of the night now and again, especially with company and drinks.

Jen was talking with John, discussing campgrounds she’d stopped at between their home and hers on trips past, ranking them, debating which would do well for their oldest nephew who was in scouts now. It was a subject Jen could talk forever on, but her sister must have heard the word camping. She piped up from across the fire.

“You talking about your vampire camping trip you take every New Year’s Eve?”

Jen saw Astarions head turn immediately.

Gods fucking damn it.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, debating how to respond.

“I still go camping at the same spot every New Year’s Eve, yes.”

Izzy had not missed Astarion’s reaction, and she pressed the point.

“Are you bringing Astarion on your vampire camping trip? I feel like that would be cheating.”

“Astarion is not a roughing it type of person.”

“Hold on,” he interjected, “what is a ‘vampire camping trip?’”

“It’s not. It’s a normal ass camping trip. Izzy just calls it that because of the stupid joke I make every year.”

“Every year, for like forever now, Jen has spent New Year’s Eve at the exact same camping spot. She claims it’s so that the vampires know where to find her to steal her away.”

“It’s a joke,” she groaned as she watched Astarion’s mouth twitch upward. “There aren’t any real vampires here. And that’s not the real reason I go. I go because it’s a nice way to see out the old year and greet the new one. It's just a personal ritual.”

“Did your husband accompany you on these trips,” asked Astarion curiously.

It was Izzy and John’s turn to stare at him. Jen realized why. Mentioning Jer around her had been all but forbidden since a few weeks after his funeral. She swallowed.

“No. He hated camping. Too tied to his electronics and too easily bored. Very much not a roughing it kind of person, even though it may as well be glamping on New Years since I rent out a site with a shelter and bring a space heater.”

She scowled and then softened her expression as she thought back through the years.

“He always called it my vampire camping trip, too, though.”

Izzy giggled.

“See? I’m right. Well maybe you should take the ‘quote’ vampire with you this year. He’s probably as close as you’ll get to a real one.”

Jen ran her hand down her face. Izzy had no damn idea.

“Would I have to sleep in the dirt?”

Astarion was looking at her with a thoughtful smirk.

“No.”

“And is there an abundance of wildlife there?”

She caught on to the direction of his questioning.

“Far more than near home. And at that time of year, I’m damn near the only camper there. Texans don’t do cold well.”

“Interesting. Perhaps I will join you. A change of… scenery could be nice.”

He’d almost said diet, she was certain. Jen thought about this idea for a moment. Part of the reason she went historically was for the solitude, but she’d had so much solitude forced on her over the past year that she found herself welcoming the idea of company.

She shrugged.

“If you want. I won’t tell you no.”

Izzy was looking suspiciously between Astarion and Jen now, but said nothing further on the subject. Jen frowned, trying to puzzle out what had her sister’s interest at the moment. Izzy caught her glance and smiled.

“Well, good. It’s about time Jen found her vampire in the woods.”

Astarion burst out laughing and Jen could only shake her head with a sigh before smiling into her wassail. She had no fucking idea.

Notes:

I am seriously making a Cookiestarion this year and y'all can't stop me. 😂 Jen's sister Izzy will be a force for good over the next few days and I don't think Jen's ready for it. Astarion, on the other hand, is going to have a blast.

It's kind of funny that the Christmas holiday chapters start with 25, too, but that was a total accident.

Chapter 26: A Pale Christmas Eve

Summary:

Christmas Eve has arrived and everyone's got their own little side scheme for the day.

26. A Pale Christmas Eve

“So is today the day we open presents?”

“No. Stop asking.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow morning. And trust me, you’ll be sick of it before we’re done. Family tradition is to open them one at a time in front of everyone. Were you able to find food last night?”

“Yes,” he purred. “There is far more life here than back in your filthy scrap of woods.”

“Not surprised. We’re hours from any major city here. I’d be back in the real woods in a heartbeat if I didn’t have to live within commuting range of my job.”

“Want to hear what I found?”

Jen raised an eyebrow at his toothy grin.

“You clearly want to tell me.”

“A bear.”

“Well. That accounts for the good mood.”

“They put up such a fight,” he crooned, flopping back on the dinosaur comforter atop the twin bed. Jen looked at him as he lay there grinning like a blissful idiot. She suddenly pictured him tussling with a black bear and winning. Could see him surprise the creature, striking with speed and accuracy, knowing where to bite instinctively, pinning a three hundred pound bundle of pure muscle with scythes for claws to the forest floor and drinking until the creature gave up fighting.

She broke her gaze and shivered.

“It was easy. The creature was sound asleep when I found it. And it certainly won’t be waking up this spring,” he added with a giggle.

“Wine and bear blood for a happy vampire. Got it,” she said, ignoring the thrill that tripped down her spine.

It was so easy to forget he wasn’t human. So easy to forget what he was actually capable of. She noticed her cheeks flushing and cleared her throat, standing.

“I’m going upstairs for breakfast. Just wanted to check in on you this morning. Can I assume you’ll spend the next hour or two giggling and preening like a drunk princess?”

“Of course, darling,” he grinned at her. Jen ignored the fact that bedroom eyes seemed to be his default look at the moment and retreated upstairs in her pajamas to make a cup of tea. And eat some cookies for breakfast.

It seemed that she was the first one up. She filled the kettle and flipped through a few tea options before settling on Earl Grey and loading a saucer up with a few cookies, disappointed to find that the photogenic cookies of the previous night had already been consumed.

Jen settled for a poorly decorated tree that she was pretty sure John had been strong armed into creating and a wreath whose sideways bow indicated that it had probably been one of hers from later in the evening.

She took her totally super healthy breakfast over to the nook off the kitchen, and sat down, savoring the quiet morning and the wilderness all around the home outside. No need for fences. No neighbors honking at the front door across the way at fifteen past seven. Just the woods and the wind and the fog floating through them.

She blew on her mug of tea, sending a cloud of steam rising around her face, breathing it in.

“How was the air mattress?”

“Fine.”

“Astarion sleep well?”

“I presume so. He’s only just started his morning ritual so we won’t see him for, oh, an hour at least.”

“You could learn a thing or two from him,” teased Izzy.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“I was worried he’d be a complete weirdo.”

“Or a body pillow.”

Izzy laughed. Hearing it made Jen smile. They’d not always been the closest, with Jen’s childhood interests tending more toward collecting rocks and bones in the streams and woods and Izzy’s tending more toward traditional pursuits like celebrity crushes, going out to the movies, or sitting in her room listening to music with her friends.

But over time, as they both matured, they grew closer together again, confiding in each other when things got rough. Sharing old memories together, doing their best to preserve family traditions. It helped that Jen had been the most excited about Izzy finally meeting her soulmate and saying yes to John’s proposal. The prevailing sentiment amongst the rest of their relations had ranged from outrage to the back handedly polite agreement that John ‘seemed like one of the good ones.’

“So what’s on your holiday schedule for today,” Jen asked, sipping her tea.

“Movie night. Nothing else for the day. John’s going to be out with the smoker for most of it.”

“Need a hand with anything?”

“No, most of the prep is done.”

Jen lowered her voice to a whisper.

“Did you find a spare stocking for Astarion in the Christmas bins?”

“I did! It even has an elf on it!”

“Shhhhh, he’ll hear you.”

“From downstairs?”

“Yes!”

“That picture you sent was hilarious. He really does not like Christmas elves does he?”

“Seriously, lower your voice!”

“You’re ridiculous!”

“Car. Now.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Astarion’s voice drifted up the stairs.

“Darling, could you give me a hand with something?”

Jen shot Izzy a ‘told you so’ look and drained the rest of the tea, putting the mug and plate in the sink before heading downstairs to see what he wanted, though she had a theory that she already knew.

“What?”

Jen found him in front of his phone combing his curls out, dressed in the robe he had insisted on bringing with him for the trip.

“What’s this I hear you two plotting about? Venturing out without me?”

“No.”

“You’re a bad liar, darling,” he said, shooting her a knowing look. “What are you plotting?”

“Gifts. Stockings are hung on the mantle and filled with gifts. I had Izzy dig one out for you.”

He examined her face, still suspicious.

“It has an elf on it. That’s what all the whispering was.”

“I heard that part.”

“Well, you aren’t getting anything else out of me.”

He waved dismissively.

“Fine. Have it your way, my dear. Return to your plots.”

Jen narrowed her eyes at him. She did not like that way he’d capitulated. It hadn’t seemed like a capitulation. She took the stairs back up two at a time, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

She walked back to Izzy, who was scrolling her phone, and sat down silently in front of her.

‘Hey Izzy. Go turn the shower on for cover. We’ll talk there.’

Jen hit send grinning at Izzy as she read the message and nodded once. The sisters retreated to the top floor where Izzy started the shower running.

“Is this really necessary, Jen?”

“Humor me. You’ve got ‘Elf’ for movie night, right?”

“I do.”

“Don’t say a thing about it until we start the movie. I cannot wait to see his reaction to this one.”

---

All four of them sat around the TV in the living room sipping their beverages of choice after a dinner of smoked turkey and a whole boatload of sides. Izzy insisted on it being a pajama party, so Jen was wearing her standard pj pants and a tee shirt, a look that Astarion was matching, though not by choice. They’d just not bothered to get him anything beyond what she'd dragged back for him that first day and he wasn't going to be lounging in her sisters house in nothing but a robe. Izzy wore a full matching Christmas set, and John wore likewise. Very likely at Izzy’s behest, Jen knew.

“Oh I love trash TV,” Izzy was saying. “Jen hates it.”

“Does she,” asked Astarion.

Jen sighed. She knew going into this that Izzy would be telling all of her secrets to her ‘plus one’ but she’d not quite anticipated the level of Astarion’s interest in ferreting out every stupid little embarrassing anecdote.

Or doing whatever he could to catch her out on the concessions she’d made since his arrival. She’d let him believe she enjoyed trash TV out of convenience sake, mostly, but his takeaway now seemed to be that once again, he’d managed to bend her to his will eventually.

“We’ve been watching Below Deck together,” he drawled, dragging his smug look off of Jen and fastening it back on Izzy. “Do you have any other recommendations?”

“Tons. The Bachelor and The Bachelorette are what I grew up on with mom. They’re absolute classics. The Bachelor gets paired with a group of women and he’s got to choose one of them to be his fiancée. They’re eliminated throughout the season until one gets the proposal. There is so much craziness and they almost never end up together long term.

“Or if you don’t want dating games, any of the Real Housewives shows are awful. The best kind of awful.”

“Naturally,” Astarion responded, laughing.

“There are so, so many. New York is probably the most popular, but I love Atlanta, too. Beverly Hills can be hit or miss.”

“Well, I’ll keep those in mind. So, what are we watching this evening?”

And this was the moment Jen had been waiting for. Finally. She raised her glass to her lips to hide her expression as she watched Astarion’s face.

“Classic Christmas movie called ‘Elf,’” her sister said, perfectly nonchalant.

Jen watched Astarion’s eyes narrow. And then his chest start to puff out. And then his shoulders fall back and his head come up and Jen snorted into her cup, drawing his immediate attention.

“Elf,” he sneered. “The movie’s called ‘Elf?’”

“It is,” said Jen with a deep grin.

The look she received from Astarion was not friendly as the kitschy music started playing and the screen came up on the storybook scene of Papa Elf.

“Oh, hello. You’re probably here about the story. Elves love to tell stories.”

Astarion had turned to the screen and was glaring a hole in the television from atop his glass of wine, examining the green and yellow clad elf in the chair with disdain. His face flit between disgusted and insulted as the introduction continued.

Jen did her level best not to burst into laughter as Astarion began to echo lines back.

“To make shoes? Seriously?”

“Shhhh! Watch the movie,” she hissed, eyes gleaming. Izzy stifled a giggle. Astarion speared Jen with a look that would have frightened her had she not trusted the man completely by now.

“You picked this, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh, you are going to pay for this, darling,” he rumbled, sinking into the armchair with a look that made it perfectly clear that he was already plotting how to get revenge for this affront to all elven kind.

But he let out an involuntary snort as the narrator mentioned that gnomes drank too much for the job of toy building.

“If it helps,” she offered, “the main character’s not actually an elf or even playing one.”

“Oh, yes, thank you, my dear. His ineptitude and size hadn’t given it away.”

Jen smiled extra big at him and flopped back against the sofa to keep watching and sipping her wassail. In all honesty, this was probably one of her favorite Christmas movies, right up there with Home Alone, the old animated Grinch, and Charlie Brown.

Given the brand of humor, she knew he’d warm up to it over time, and so she waited, laughing at the absurdity that played out on the screen. The moment that seemed to finally break through and leave him laughing along with the rest of them was the moment Buddy got hit by a taxi in front of Gimball’s.

Jen fell to hysterics several moments later when a very concerned Buddy held up the line at the base of the escalator before riding it up in the most monumentally stupid fashion possible. Her absolute favorite gag was the moment that Buddy’s dad opened up the “For Someone Special” gift as the receptionist walked in, and this one hit home with Astarion, too, who was damn near howling with laughter.

Jen nibbled another sugar cookie, sinking into the warmth and cheer in the living room. Looking at the tree. Mind wandering ahead to tomorrow. Wondering how giving him his presents would go.

By the time the movie finished up, Astarion’s initially sour mood seemed to have dissipated. Jen yawned and looked down at her watch. Gods she was getting old if ten felt late.

“Think I’m going down to sleep. Turkey coma and alcohol got me ready to pass out.” She turned and glanced at Astarion, who sat poised in the armchair with his mostly empty glass of wine in one hand and phone in the other. “Feel free to stay up, y’all, but I’m beat.”

“John and I are probably going to turn in, too. And where did those mutts get to,” Izzy muttered, getting to her feet and taking her glass to the kitchen.

Jen stood and stretched, casting a glance at Astarion.

“You staying up here?”

Astarion pocketed his phone and stood to follow her in answer.

Jen slid down the stairs, freezing at the bottom as she tried to make sense of the scene in the basement. Walt trotted up to her happily before bouncing back over toward Burrito, who held the edge of pink linens, and a deflated mattress in his mouth. He dropped it and wagged his tail.

“Found your mutts, Izzy,” Jen yelled up the stairs.

The tramping of feet rounded the corner above her, and she heard her sister hurrying down the stairs, dodging out of her way as she came to a halt and processed the damage.

“Burrito! No!”

The hound took a corner of the deflated mattress in his mouth and shook it, tail wagging with delight. Jen watched, mouth agape. Astarion, who had joined the group not a moment later, opened his mouth, raised a hand, and lowered it again, choosing to remain silent.

“I’m sorry Jen, I didn’t even realize he snuck down here.”

Jen turned and shot her sister a look. That was a hell of a lie. If Jen didn’t know it herself, the look on Astarion’s face behind Izzy confirmed it for her. Her sister had known exactly where the dogs were; the basement door was shut by default and no one had been down there since Jen had shut it again on the way up for the movie.

Izzy swatted the mutt lightly on the rump, removing the chewed up corner from his mouth.

“Bad Burrito! Upstairs! John! Grab your Mutt!”

John came down the stairs, scolded the dog, picked him up, and vanished back upstairs with an apologetic glance at Jen. Yeah. He knew, too.

Jen grabbed the corner of the pink blanket and the sheet beneath it.

“I can just sleep on the couch upstairs. I’ll take the blankets up, it’s no trouble. I’ve roughed it far worse.”

Astarion leaned across the bottom of the stairway with a tiny smirk. He caught Jen’s eye and she knew he was about to enter the fray.

“Nonsense, my dear, you can stay with me.”

Jen sputtered in protest. Astarion rolled his eyes and continued.

“Oh, come now, darling. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

She wanted to hiss at him to stop talking, but knew it was too late. Izzy seized on this with glee.

“Oh really,” she said, spinning to give Jen a look. Jen stared back helplessly, feeling her cheeks color. She was not going to win against the pair of them together and she knew it. Either/or was bad enough.

“Fine. Y’all win.” She dropped the sheet and blanket unceremoniously, refusing to give either of them the pleasure of dragging this out any longer or throwing any more bemused looks her way.

She waltzed into the guest room and sat on the edge of the bed, listening intently but unable to hear what Izzy and Astarion were saying to each other. She heard when Izzy retreated up the stairs, though, traced her progress with crossed arms and a cross glare as Astarion entered the guest room, a grin on his lips.

“She did that on purpose,” Jen hissed.

Astarion giggled and sat down, stretching himself back onto the bed next to Jen. He glanced up at her, still grinning.

“Are all the women in your family this devious?”

“No.” Jen paused.

But actually…

It did seem to be a family trait handed down the maternal side. Grammy Barb had been practically Machiavellian in her church circle. Mom was always a fan of a well planned caper. Izzy loved scheming to make social situations play out according to her whims. And Jen tended to try to get away with as much as she could as long as it was damn near certain to go unnoticed or at least unpunished.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” he drawled, making eyes at her, “since you’ll be staying in here with me tonight, I was wondering if we could revisit the discussion we had about my menu options for the trip.”

The gremlin in her skull started rubbing its hands together with glee.

Jen licked her lips.

“Just a nibble,” Astarion pouted before she even voiced an objection. “I’ll be good.”

“I hate that I’m considering this,” she said, lying back on the pillows, absolutely having made up her mind already, but refusing to be honest with herself about it.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he whispered enticingly, wiggling closer.

“Fine. But quietly. No. No excuses. Don’t set the dogs off.”

“Fine,” he breathed against her neck. Jen’s heart skipped a beat. He placed his fingers gently under her chin and she relaxed, letting him guide it up to the side just as he had time and again.

Astarion shifted in closer, raising himself up on his elbow to lower his fangs to her neck. Jen waited for that icy splinter of pain, feeling her pulse in her throat. She felt the brush of his curls against her skin first, followed by the chilled caress of his lips, and finally the breathtaking jolt of his fangs sinking home.

She swallowed her moan, gulping air instead before biting her upper lip.

Astarion drew back from the font he’d opened with a sigh before leaning in to lick the wound.

Fucking hell.

Jen tried to hang onto herself, to not fall straight down into that deep, dark, delicious ocean of shared blood, but she could already feel their pulses in tandem like she'd been attuned to him over the past two weeks.

“Shhhh,” he whispered against her skin, sending goosebumps prickling across her flesh. 

“I am shhh-ing,” she hissed after another gulp of air. He raised an eyebrow at her, put his lips gently against her, and sucked.

Jen swallowed a noise that twisted itself into the ghost of a dying cat. Astarion drew back with a choked snort of his own, catching a rivulet of blood from dripping from his lips down onto the bed with his finger.

Jen flushed.

“Give me a second,” she whispered. “Then try again. Gently.”

“That was gently, my dear.”

They waited huddled together in the lamp light until Jen could feel her heart rate drop back down a notch and her muscles loosen back up. Astarion leaned in to try again. He licked the blood that had spilled in the interlude clean first, his breaths echoing in her ear and through her skull as he did so.

She managed to keep herself still and quiet right until his teeth were poised against her again. She kept the resulting sound to a sharp, muted squeak, but it once again trailed off into a whine as he pulled a mouthful from her veins.

She found herself blinking back to present, staring at Astarion, who was listening carefully to the house beyond. He looked down at her and grinned. She blinked at him, baffled by how damn difficult this seemed to be.

“We’ll have to take this very slowly tonight.” He giggled. “You're awful.” 

“What the hell is wrong with me?”

“I couldn't begin to say, my sweet, but I do enjoy it so very much.”  

She snorted and covered her mouth to muffle it as Astarion leaned in to take another lazy sip. He drew back with a sigh and licked his lips clean, watching with amusement as Jen struggled to keep silent and alert.

“Can’t you just, stick my face under a pillow or something? This is impossible.”

Astarion rolled onto his back and giggled, covering his mouth as he had to try to stay quiet this time.

“The goal is to not kill you, my dear.”

She thumped his shoulder with her palm.

“I didn’t say hold it there until I stop breathing! Just enough to help!”

A thought occurred to her.

“Couldn’t you have just waited until I was asleep?”

Astarion shook with suppressed laughter, amusement glinting in his eye as he turned back toward her.

“Hardly. You make all kinds of noises when you're asleep.”

She could have done without knowing that.

“Gods damn it. Have you had enough yet, then?”

“Never,” he purred, leaning back to her lick bleeding neck clean and take another quick little mouthful. Jen pulled herself back from the edge of the abyss again as he stopped and swallowed.

There had to be something that would help. Other than giving up, saying to hell with it, and alerting the whole damn household.

“Give me your shirt.”

“Excuse me,” asked Astarion with a delighted look of shock.

“I need something to stuff in my mouth to keep fucking quiet!”

“Do you have any idea how comical this is, darling?”

She was well aware and decidedly not thinking about it.

“Shirt or we’re done.”

“If you really think this is the best solution,” he teased, stripping his tee shirt off over his head, careful not to elbow her in the face on the tiny bed.

Jen shot him a look and took the shirt, cramming it into her mouth, moaning into it as Astarion fastened his mouth back on her neck and drank again.

Surely that muffled her enough?

Astarion opened his eyes, looked at her, and giggled.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Mm ‘ooing ‘ish ‘or ‘oo, ahsh-ole,” she tried to retort through the fabric.

“Well it sounds like it’s working,” he teased, dropping his gaze to her throat and leaning in again. She pressed herself into him as he sucked the wound, relieved to be able to let go and groan into the fabric in her mouth.

The problem was, now that she could let go, she started to tremble, and the creaky little twin bed they were currently sharing suddenly added its voice to the fray. Both of them froze and listened for the sound of dogs barking.

When the silence of the night continued unbroken, Astarion scowled playfully at her.

“Gods below, do I have to hold you down, too?”

Jen glanced at him, sighed in defeat, and then looked away. He shook his head in fake exasperation, slid on top of her, and pinned her firmly in place.

“Have it your way, darling. I’ll do all the work tonight.”

She tried to jerk her knee up to jab him in the back with it as payback for his snark, but failed, finding he was balanced perfectly in a spot that kept her from gaining any use of her legs. Almost like he’d done this a time or two.

She shuddered and exhaled, briefly recalling her imagined black bear from the morning, glancing up to meet Astarion’s gaze. He chuckled and leaned down.

“It was a cute effort.”

She felt the temperature in the room changing and broke her gaze away, pinned it to the wall instead, turning her head and exposing her neck to him again.

She felt him exhale against her skin before licking the blood clean and settling his mouth around the wound again. Jen swallowed and Astarion bit down and sucked. It was not gentle. She threw herself into the sensation, caught his quiet moan as he allowed himself to be dragged down with her.

She started to shake, and Astarion sat up, lifting her torso off the bed with him, absorbing the motion with his body as best he could as he held her against him and continued drinking. Her forehead slumped against his shoulder, half a shirt caught between her and his bare chest as she clamped the other corner firmly between her teeth and voiced her appreciation into it.

Just as they always seemed to, her arms had found their way around him as her fingers clung to his back. She reached for that heartbeat she knew she’d feel through her own, stumbling into it and letting it engulf her.

When her mind staggered back into reality again, she realized they were still sitting up. Astarion had braced her against him with an immovable arm behind her back, angled such that a single hand spread across her spine between her shoulder blades locked her in place. His other hand was buried in her hair.

His eyes were closed and she watched the movement of his mouth, yet unhearing, as he murmured to her.

She let her hands slide down his bare back, felt that it was slick with sweat, and blushed. She watched his nostrils flare as he breathed the change in, felt him tense against her.

Jen spat the shirt she’d been clenching in her teeth out.

“You good,” she whispered.

Astarion exhaled and smiled as he opened his crimson eyes and met her gaze.

“Just drinking in the moment, my sweet.”

She glanced down, unable to move her head to look away with his hand clenched firmly in her hair. She moved her shoulder blades slightly, trying to focus his attention on the fact that he still had her caught tight against him. His grasp finally loosened.

“I’m afraid your water will have to wait. They’ve not barked, but I do hear their little nails clicking overhead.”

“S’ok,” she murmured, suddenly exhausted. “Sleepy.”

She found her hand in his, knew he was checking her out again, making sure she was alright. He seemed mollified by whatever he found, and he laid Jen carefully back on the bed, retrieving his shirt and tossing it aside.

“Sleep then,” he crooned, lying beside her and pulling her in close. Jen nodded against him and drifted off to sleep as snow floated down outside.

Notes:

I did not intend this to turn into a bite scene when I first drafted the chapter, but our rogue wouldn't leave it alone with a tasty treat unexpectedly in his grasp. The ridiculousness of it all was also too much fun to play with, so it blossomed into this.

We've gone through the surplus chapters at this point, so we're back on a more regular post cadence until my brain sees fit to go ping-pong chaos mode on me again.

Also, I'm not sure what the final word count will be, but I do have drafts of the final chapters in works at this point. They're still a ways off, but having those bits out there now helps me wrangle the story in the right direction to make sure all these ends get tied into a nice bow.

Chapter 27: A Pale Christmas

Summary:

Christmas Day is here, and the cozy little party open gifts and relax.

27. A Pale Christmas

“So. Is today the day we open presents?”

Astarion was lying right next to her, staring, waiting for an answer.

“Good morning to you, too,” she grumbled, and then blushed suddenly as she caught up with herself. The two of them were still crammed together on the twin bed. Hadn’t he gone and hunted later? The hell was he doing here again? 

Astarion cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Today. Stop asking.”

“Wonderful!”

Jen lay there, thinking for a moment, casting back to the previous day’s nonsense. From herself. From her sister. From Astarion. Really, John was the only sane one among them. And maybe Walt. Burrito was in the crazy camp, too.

“Are they up yet,” she whispered, casting her eyes to the ceiling above.

“Haven’t heard them.”

“Mmk. Uh, is there a reason you’re still hanging out with me, then?”

“Pardon? It’s my bed you’re in.”

“You said you were fine sharing!”

“And I am. Sharing.”

“Right,” she muttered. Couldn’t fault his logic there.

“I could kick you out if you prefer, my dear.”

“No. This is… fine. I just. Don’t usually wake up with you right in my face. That’s all.”

“I could always go for another nibble if it’d make you more comfortable,” he teased, leaning in.

“No, that’s alright,” she squeaked, pushing her arms against him so hard she sent herself backwards off the other side of the bed, or would have had he not grabbed an arm and pulled her back from the edge, laughing.

“Asshole,” she muttered.

“Well, I’ll just let you fall next time then, darling.”

“Sorry. It’s just early and I’m grumpy.”

That was the truth, but not all of it, she knew. She’d not had a second to mentally prepare to face him yet, and being caught off guard had started her off quite literally on the wrong side of the bed.

“Did you have anything to do with that plan of Izzy’s yesterday?”

Astarion blinked at her in surprise.

“No.”

“So your reaction was more of a ‘I might get dinner out of this and it’s fun to watch Jen squirm’ heat of the moment thing?”

Astarion giggled.

“You do know me.”

“Yeah. Hence double checking.”

“I do enjoy bear, but you are so much more delectable, my sweet.”

Jen's stomach squirmed and she cleared her throat nervously, watching him eye her neck.

“So all her,” she confirmed, trying to get his attention off of her pulse and her own off of his nearness.

“Yes. That was all her, darling. And if I didn’t know any better I’d say she was trying to set you up with me.”

“She is,” Jen grumbled. “I told her we’re not in a relationship like that and I guess she’s decided that we ought to be. I already told her you’re after someone else.”

“She doesn’t seem to think that’s much of an obstacle.”

“Never does. Don’t worry about it.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, grinning.

Right. Well. Time to get up then. Jen rolled out of the little twin bed, putting her feet down on the cold floor of the basement.

“I’ll leave you to your morning preening,” she said, standing and stretching, forcing her mind to turn toward the tea and cookies she could have for breakfast again. “Just come on up when you hear them all up and about so we can get into presents.”

As she walked out into the basement, she caught her breath. The world outside had been blanketed with a soft layer of white, one she rarely got to enjoy down in Texas. She stared for a moment longer, then took the stairs two at a time to grab breakfast and enjoy the chilly day with a hot mug in her hands.

Jen could hear the dogs scratching at Izzy’s bedroom door and whining to be let out as she slipped past, but she’d let her sister get her ass up and handle that. Small revenge for the chaos she’d caused last night.

Jen settled onto the couch in front of the glowing tree with her tea and another plate of cookies, scrolling her phone mindlessly, checking the little mental health bird app she’d been using and marking ‘make a cup of tea’ as complete.

She sighed as she sat alone in the living room. The quiet of the winter had always been part of the draw for her, part of why it was her favorite season and with Jer’s death, even that had been taken from her. The quiet and solitude she used to love too frequently felt empty and oppressive afterward.

But sitting in the house, listening to the dogs begging to be let loose, hearing the indistinct murmur of voices arguing about who was going to take them out, knowing that even in the silence Astarion was just down the stairs… it all helped. She watched the snow falling through the window behind the tree and it seemed almost welcoming again, like she could wander out into it and not feel the cold of it deep in here soul any more.

And, well, since she was up first, she’d be choosing the background music for the morning, and she settled on the music from A Charlie Brown Christmas, with other piano covers mixed in for good measure. She sipped her tea and waited, grinning as she heard an exasperated Izzy, voice still muddled with sleep, get up to let the dogs into the rest of the house.

Jen greeted the pair of pooches with baby talk and pets, escorting them to the front door to let them out to pee on her sister’s decorations. Poor Walt was up to his belly in snow, so she babied him with ear scratches and a clean towel in the mudroom before carrying him back to the living room, where John had started the gas fireplace going.

“Morning,” she said.

“Mornin’. Sleep alright?”

“Not the most restful it’s ever been with two of us on that little bed but we managed.”

John smiled at her and looked back toward the fire. Jen was pretty sure she caught a glint of amusement in his eyes but didn’t have time to clarify as her sister came bustling out of the bedroom, clearly in a wonderful mood.

“Good morning,” she sang to Jen.

“You have too much energy for this hour,” she grumbled back.

“Just excited!”

“Hm.”

“Oh lighten up! It’s Christmas! Is Astarion up yet?”

“Yeah. He’s prepping. He’ll be up in a bit, I’m sure.”

“Great! When he’s here, we’ll jump right in.”

Jen made a second cup of tea, feeling the warmth and caffeine finally start to do its work as she returned to the sofa in front of the hearth. Izzy and John ate a non-cookie breakfast at the kitchen island, chatting and laughing as they did, leaving Jen to sigh at the memory of slipping out in the early morning to the local breakfast joint with Jer.

Astarion found his way upstairs just about the time they were finishing up. With his appearance, something met with a very enthusiastic good morning from Izzy, as she ushered them all into the living room and passed out the stockings.

Jen grinned as Astarion sighed down at the felt stocking in his lap. More elves, much to his dismay.

“Stockings are free game so dig in,” Izzy announced, taking hers to the couch, pulling a candy cane out, and peeling it open.

Jen’s contained trinkets mostly geared toward the outdoors, bug repellent wipes, various teas, a little trifold card with pictures of useful knots, and a nice metal lighter. Izzy’s contained a mountain of sweets, specialty cookies, a handful of dog mom themed items, and a monogrammed dog leash. John’s contained plenty of caramels, a small book of grilling recipes, some nice, thick camping socks, and a set of whiskey stones.

Astarion’s had been interesting to put together, and the sisters had worked on it together. Jen had insisted they stick with vampire-adjacent items, to Izzy’s dismay. She wanted to give him peppermints and candy and the like, and Jen had had to push back, explaining that these weren’t likely to be used.

Izzy had settled for the edible part of his stocking being composed of tiny bottles of alcohol instead. In addition to this, they added some individually packaged facial cleansing wipes, a variety of sheet masks, bleed stop powder, a pocket guide to Texas wildlife, and a wine glass engraved with the phrase ‘The Blood of my Enemies’ in elegant lettering, which he found highly entertaining.

The dogs, for their part, got stockings full of treats and toys, and Jen had one full of cat toys to bring back home with her.

After a short break to break out drinks and select their snacks or candies of choice, Izzy helped John sort through the presents under the tree, handing stacks of bags and boxes over to their respective recipients so that the main event could begin.

“Alright, Jen. You’re up.”

Jen selected a box off the top of the pile and tore the paper off of it, noting out loud that this one was from Izzy and John.

She opened a black cardboard box emblazoned with the Cirque du Soleil sun in the center. Within it lay a gorgeous mask, a painted replica of one from one of the shows, stark colors contrasting with the vibrant feathers.

“We brought that back from Las Vegas,” Izzy explained.

“Thank you! It’s gorgeous.”

She’d have to find somewhere to put it to keep the feathers and ribbons out of reach of the destructively curious paws of her cats, but she was certain she could find a home for it. Maybe on the wall above her Phantom shadow box she’d made with souvenirs from New York.

“Have you been to Las Vegas, Astarion,” Izzy asked.

“No,” he responded, eyes on the mask that Jen held. She handed it to him for a closer look.

“We loved it. John’s company attended a convention there this year, and we got to stay right on the strip in one of the casinos. It was a fantastic time.”

“Ah, ah,” he said, holding the mask up out of reach of Burrito, who’d come to take a chomp at the feathers. Jen took it back and placed it back in the box, closing it safely away for now.

“Ok,” said Izzy, “Astarion, you’re next.”

Jen watched as he cleared his throat, and she could see the nervousness in the little lines on his face.

“This one is from Jen,” he said, reading the tag. He slipped a finger under the tape holding the wrapping paper together, unfolding it off of the box beneath. Paper set aside, he pulled the lid off and glanced down curiously at the blanket, reading the label held on its folded top by blue ribbons.

“A heated blanket,” he said, tilting his head. He looked over at Jen. “Like the heated seats in the car? It produces heat?”

Izzy laughed.

“Do they not have heated blankets where you’re from?”

“No,” he said, taking the blanket out.

“Figured you’d enjoy being able to be nice and toasty whenever you want,” Jen said, smiling at him. He looked up and smiled back.

“I- thank you, darling.”

Jen watched, pleased with herself as he ran his hands over the plush fabric. She had no doubt that she’d be showing him how it worked later.

“John’s up next,” directed Izzy.

He opened up one of his gifts, this one from Izzy, and thanked her for the Razorback grilling gear, customized with his name. Izzy was next, and she opened up some kind of beauty product or another that must have come from one of John’s siblings, since Jen didn’t recognize the name on the tag. The dogs each got a gift next, which John and Izzy helped unwrap for them before the circle was back around to Jen.

She picked up a lightweight little gift, about the size of a paperback book, but more square than rectangular and flipped it over looking for a tag.

“That one’s from me,” said Astarion.

She blinked, surprised that he’d gotten her anything. He hadn’t the slightest idea that Christmas involved presents until just the other week and she’d not seen him slip anything gift like into his shopping purchases when they’d been out.

Had he gotten something off Amazon, perhaps?

She reached down and tore the corner of the wrapping paper, finding a plain white box inside, which she opened.

“Whoa,” she said, staring.

It took her mind a moment to parse what she was looking at. The first thing she noted was the fossilized shark tooth dominating the center of the circle, the main point flanked by the tiny little ones to the sides. It was the spitting image of the tooth she’d pulled out of the creek a few weeks back. This centerpiece was framed by a motif composed of intertwining brambles and unmistakably accurate burrs, looping and twisting together to encircle the whole thing.

The entire piece had been embroidered, stitched in painstaking detail.

She immediately knew that he’d made it himself. She hadn’t the slightest idea when exactly, but he’d clearly put the supplies he'd rescued from the depths of the closet to good use.

“This is amazing,” she said, lifting it out of the box and admiring how the colors blended together. How symmetrical the briars were.

“Let me see,” said Izzy, and Jen handed it over to her.

“Just something to keep the hands busy,” Astarion said, clearing his throat. “You’ve got all those fossils on your desk, so it should fit right in. Bring some good luck, perhaps.”

He waved and glanced away to punctuate this statement, clearly uncomfortable with the level of attention his gift to her was receiving, which she found endearing as hell at the moment.

“You’re really talented,” Izzy told him, handing the piece back to Jen. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“Oh, self taught, mostly. And lots of time to practice,” he said with a laugh that Jen thought felt far more forced than genuine. She could sense the undercurrent in his response to her sister and spoke up to help move the exchange along.

“Ok, so Astarion’s up next, again, yeah?”

“Yes,” replied Izzy.

Astarion opened a small box from Izzy and John and pulled out an Amazon gift card, which he thanked them for enthusiastically. Gods knew he could never get enough of those.

Jen found herself tracing her finger across the lines of threads, wondering if he’d ever sat in a circle and exchanged gifts like this before. When was the last time he’d given one or received one in return? He was clearly both pleased and uncomfortable with the whole affair.

If he’d lost Tav four decades ago, and he’d been questing the entire time since, this was probably a novel event. Gods, did he even stop to celebrate a holiday with anyone? Or remember his birthday? She doubted it. He likely remembered the date of his freedom with perfect clarity, but was that something he’d celebrate year after year? Like a rebirth date? Or was it too painful?

The gift circle had moved on again to Izzy, John, and the dogs, and continued until all the gifts had been opened, adding a few more camping gadgets to Jen's pile, and some salon gift cards and turtlenecks to Astarion's.

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching more Christmas movies, snacking on plates of leftovers as John made and received calls from various family members. Home Alone was probably Astarion’s favorite, if his amount of laughter was anything to judge by. Jen had helped him get the blanket all plugged in and he’d sunk down into a recliner beneath it to sip another of the reds he was sharing with Izzy from his new glass.

“Whatcha thinking about,” her sister asked her, catching Jen staring out into the darkening snowscape as evening fell. She shook her head and sighed.

“Just… everything. Missing Jer. Happy to be here. Enjoying the wassail season. Everything. Holidays are weird for me.”

Izzy gave her shoulder a squeeze as she stood to refill her glass.

“You’ve always got a home here, you know.”

“I know. Thanks for taking us in this year.”

“Absolutely! We’ll visit mom and pop together tomorrow, alright?”

Jen nodded, sipping her glass and watching the snow fall. The melancholy feeling sat just a bit lighter than it had in the morning, the dark not so dark and the cold not so cold.

Notes:

Christmas is drawing to a close and the dynamic duo will soon be returning to Texas to continue their quests. We are getting ever closer to the moment I know y'all are waiting for, I promise. :)

Chapter 28: A Holiday Hangover

Summary:

Izzy takes Jen out for a chat.

28. A Holiday Hangover

Jen and Izzy took a drive together on the day after Christmas. In reality, Izzy had all but shanghaied her into it, citing a trip to the family cemetery plot for just the two of them to John and Astarion, who remained behind.

Jen knew what was coming. This was not the first time she’d been abducted by her sister on dubious pretenses. Given that nearly all of the other times had involved the men in her life, she braced herself to get an earful about Astarion.

“I like him,” Izzy said, by way of introduction.

Well thank fuck. Decent enough start.

“Really? Even though he insists on being a fictional vampire? That’s not a deal breaker in your book?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be into that, but you? You definitely are. You spent months drowning me in memes about that man.” Izzy paused, clearly measuring her words.

“Where did you meet him?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I ran into him in the woods one night and we hit it off after we both got over our shock?”

“Not a chance.”

“It’s the truth, weirdly enough,” she tried.

“Mmmmm. No. I don’t buy that.”

Jen sighed. Back to the fictional version, then.

“I met him at a convention.”

“That I buy. So how’d you catch his eye at a convention given that you almost never talk to anyone?”

“It was in the parking garage. I helped him change a flat. He didn’t want to get dirty in costume.”

Izzy nodded with a smile.

“That makes more sense.”

“So what else you need to know?”

“Why didn’t you tell me y’all were doing it?”

Jen nearly choked on the tea in her to-go cup.

“Because we’re not.”

Izzy favored her sister with a wry grin.

“That’s not what it sounded like to me. John called it a Christmas miracle.”

Jen felt the adrenaline spike as she tried to cast her mind back to what the hell Izzy would have overheard. Clearly, the biting. But what exactly?

“I have not slept with him, not like that,” Jen said stubbornly.

“‘His menu options for the trip? Try again gently?’ No? Not ringing a bell?”

It was. It most definitely was. Jen sat in the passenger seat, mouth agape.

“It sounded an awful lot like he knew his way around if the sound effects were anything to go by.”

Jen flushed bright red.

“You were eavesdropping on us? No, you know what, of course you were. And you were not at all sorry the mattress popped. You let the dogs down intentionally. Izzy, I told you, we don’t have that kind of relationship.” 

“I know what I heard.”

No she fucking didn’t. They weren’t doing anything of that caliber in the basement.

“What you heard was him-”

Jen faltered. What the fucking hell was she going to do with this? The truth, the genuine truth, was so absurd that she knew how crazy it would sound to say it out loud. Izzy certainly wasn’t going to believe he was an actual vampire. If Jen said a damn thing about blood drinking, she risked her sister getting all worried and interfering even further.

“Nothing serious happened ok. Just… well, him pretending to bite me. It’s just a rolepaying thing. Our clothes stayed on.”

Nu-uh, giggled the gremlin, helpfully reminding Jen that she’d requested he remove his shirt.

And really? This account of events was less embarrassing than letting her sister think they were boinking in the basement on Christmas Eve? Fucking hell. What was wrong with her?

“It did not sound like there was much pretending involved. Look, whatever gets you off, but y’all were going at it.”

“Would you be happy and leave it if I admitted to a feisty necking session,” Jen quipped.

“Better than nothing, but you are such a teenager about things sometimes. Girl, you are a grown ass woman. Loosen up and have some fun! He is clearly into you.”

“Things are not going to go anywhere with him. He is after someone else.”

“But is he with someone else?”

“Technically, no, not yet.”

“Then shoot your damn shot because from what I’ve seen this weekend, there’s no way even you could miss that one.”

Jen sighed stubbornly.

“Look, I know this is coming from a good place, Iz, but could you just not meddle for once?”

“It would be unconscionable for me not to, Jen. You’ve not been this animated since, well, you know. That man is good for you!”

“Yes and all this is without getting intimate.”

She frowned. Well. Kind of. They’d spent an awful lot of time together. Plus, all those biting sessions were actually pretty intimate.

And they’re wonderful, the gremlin giggled.

“Oh piss off.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I was talking to myself. Damn it, Iz, a man like that is not going to hang around forever.”

Izzy put on her best sing-song voice.

“All the more reason to climb him like a tree now… I know how you like tree climbing…”

Jen rolled her eyes at the crappy attempt at a double entendre before staring at the snow covered vista ahead of them.

“If I say I’ll consider it, will you leave it alone?”

“For now.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Great! Now, what does he actually do for work?”

“You’re relentless.”

“I’m not letting you get with another Calvin, hot or not.”

“I promise he’s not a Calvin.”

“Like you promise you weren’t getting intimate in the basement this weekend?”

“Fine! Fine. We were. We were one hundred percent getting intimate on Christmas Eve. It’ll probably happen again tomorrow night when we get back home to my place. Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

Jen invoked the old childhood pact hoping it would tell Izzy she was being serious. Intimate like Izzy was picturing was truth-adjacent, in this case, of course. But she couldn’t explain what Izzy had clearly listened in on any other way. It was better to just let her think they were an item.

“Pinky swear?”

Jen held out her pinky.

“Pinky swear.”

Izzy lit up brighter than her yard full of decorations at the news.

“Yay! Deets?”

It feels like drowning in him every night as he literally sucks the life out of me and then I get to cuddle up and sleep like a baby.

Jen turned her flushed gaze out the window. Not a chance.

“Stop, Izzy. Please.”

“Fiiiiine. Back to his job. What’s he do for work.”

“Pickpockets Karens in Target.”

“Jen.”

Guess that truth wasn’t good enough, either. Somehow she’d known it wouldn’t be, but just had to say it anyway.

“He’s not settled on a career outside of being Astarion yet. Being Astarion is working for him for now, so until the Baldur’s Gate fandom vanishes, which is likely to be a long time coming, he’s doing fine for himself.”

“He’s not draining your bank accounts?”

“No.”

She shifted uncomfortably. Gods, her sister knew right where to pry. He kind of was draining them. Or had been. It had slowed down. But that was mostly her fault anyway, not his. 

“Jen,” her sister warned, giving her the look.

“He’s not. I promise. I went a little overboard treating him when we first met but I’ve backed off and he’s got his own income.”

“How much have you spent on him in the last month?”

“I’ve only known him like a month, so that’s not fair.”

“So help me God, woman, answer the question.”

“It’s not your business,” Jen hissed, knowing for certain that Izzy was going to balk at the number. Hell, she herself had when she looked at her credit card statements.

“Jennifer Merideth Scott, how much?”

“A few thousand?”

“Jesus H. Christ!”

“None of that was the past week and a half! I told you, I started a little overboard, alright? And then I came to my senses. The Christmas bonus pretty much covers it, anyway. It’s not another Calvin situation.”

Izzy looked at her sister and sighed.

“You’re absolutely certain?”

“Yes. He can support himself. He just moved and so I helped him fill out his wardrobe and his toiletries.”

“Alright. I’ll let it go - for now. But you watch that bank account.”

“You know I live below my means, anyway,” she mumbled.

“That is not the point, girl,” she chided, smacking her hands on the steering wheel for emphasis. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Nothing. It’s my damn life.”

Izzy stopped the car alongside a gravel driveway and Jen hopped out to open the gate up to the old cemetery. They continued up the hill slowly, wheels crunching on gravel and snow, until the pull off at the top where they both got out to walk over to the bench the family had chosen for their mother’s grave marker.

“Look, Jen, we just want to see you happy again. We’ve been worried about you ever since you lost Jeremy. I know it’s a lot to come back from, which is why we’re happy you’re dating again.”

“But I’m not, Izzy. Even if he’s into me, we’re never going to be something long term. His goals are completely incompatible.”

She sighed, hands against the cold stone bench, trying to find a way to make her sister understand without worrying her.

“Look, you’re right, ok? It’s been good for me to have him around. I’ll give you that. But whatever is going on is temporary. It’s not as serious as you think it is and it never will be.”

“I don’t understand how you can possibly know that,” she argued back.

“Because he knows what he wants and I am not it. He’s a friend. He’s even becoming a good friend, I guess, but he and I are working on getting him what he’s after and when that’s done, we’re likely to go our separate ways.”

“You make it sound so cryptic.”

“Because you’d call it ridiculous if I didn’t.”

“Then what is he after? Why is he hanging around you?”

“He’s trying to reconnect with someone he lost in the area a long time ago. I’m giving him a place to do that from. And it means we’ve been spending a lot of time together, which is why we seem so close. But the reality is, when he makes that connection again-”

“IF he makes that connection again,” Izzy cut in.

“When he makes that connection again, we’ll just drift back apart. That’s why I keep telling you it’s not going anywhere.”

“You’re underselling yourself. You always do.”

Jen made a face and rolled her eyes.

“Oh please. You’ve seen him. I’m not even in the same league as him.”

“You don’t even know if he’s going to be able to reconnect! What if he doesn’t?”

“He isn’t going to stop trying. You have no idea how persistent and resilient this man is.”

“What if she doesn’t want anything with him?”

“I don’t know, Izzy, but I am not the answer here. And you think I want to risk heartbreak so fucking close to losing Jer?”

“So you do like him,” she said softly. Jen frowned, grinding a toe into the snow beneath her boot.

“I mean, yeah. But again, he’s not after-”

“Have you asked him?”

“I don’t have to! I know what the man wants!”

“You are so damn stubborn, Jen!”

“And you are so damn pushy! We’ve literally talked about it!”

“About you two?”

“No. About his undying love for the woman he’s after. She is all he thinks about. His entire reason for being here. And I am going to help him find her and be happy, damn it. He deserves it.”

“So do you.”

“Can we please just let this go.”

“On one condition.”

“Which is what?”

“Think about what I said.”

“I already have.”

“No! I mean, really stop and think about it. You think you have, but I know you, and I know you started with your mind made up. I’m just asking you to be open to him.”

Jen stared at the rows of tombstones. The pristine snow. A handful of footprints here and there. A neglected wreath or a drooping poinsettia.

“Fine. I’ll think about what you said.”

Izzy nodded and dropped the matter. Jen knew she wasn’t happy about it, but there wasn’t anything else to be said. Izzy could think she knew how this should go, but Astarion was here for Tav, was going to find Tav, and was going to go home with Tav.

And of course Jen liked him; how could she not?

The man was a living -- well, living-ish -- testament to the ability to survive. To break free. To heal and carry on and live again. Hilarious and sharp and sweet and dangerous. And she needed that energy and that reminder in her life now more than ever.

Astarion was so many things, but the one thing he was not, and would not be, was hers.

“I appreciate the concern, Izzy. And I am glad he’s around for the time he is. He’s been helping me talk through some things that I needed to talk through, and maybe by the time he’s moved on to his next gig, things will be better for me again.”

Izzy hooked her arm around her sister’s shoulder and gave her an affectionate shake.

“I’ll be praying for you, girl.”

“Thanks. Besides. If I get with someone new, John will owe you. He’s the one with money on crazy cat lady in the woods, right?”

Izzy chuckled.

“I can’t let that happen, clearly.”

Jen trailed into silence and she and Izzy sat still, just staring off the hill. Izzy was probably praying. Jen, for her part, sat with the sobering weight of the dead beneath them, those buried here and elsewhere. She took a breath, wondered who else have ever had that same breath of air in their lungs, how long ago the oxygen she borrowed was formed, and where it had been.

The thought that she’d happened to take in a mote her mother, father, or lover had once breathed comforted her far more than words whispered into the void.

She finished her tea and looked over at her sister.

“You want to stay out here longer or we heading back soon?”

“We can head back. Just wanted to talk to you about Astarion and say a quick prayer for mom and pop.”

“Figured. Anything else you’ve just got to grill me on before Astarion and I head back out tomorrow?”

“No. Except that I’m serious about the open door. If you need to come up here for any reason, good or bad, you just let me know.”

Jen nodded, standing and brushing the snow off the rest of the bench and the gravestone next to it.

“Let’s go. I could use one more round of wassail today.”

Notes:

I know I said the cadence would slow down again with posting, but there will very likely be at least one or two more chapters up this week/weekend because I got ahead of myself again. Work, weather, and health have been kind, so I've been productive.

This is fine.

i_like_this_man_a_normal_amount_meme.jpeg - etc, etc, etc

Y'all get it.

Chapter 29: Alright, Fine

Summary:

After taking a bit to unwind with their various vices, the pair jump back into the digital quest they've got going.

29. Alright, Fine

Jen and Astarion had made it home the following Saturday afternoon without much trouble. Jen was one hundred percent done with dealing with people for the moment, so when Astarion suggested wandering out to Woodbridge, they’d arrived at a compromise. Jen drove him to the salon he liked so he could get his nails done and gossip while she waited nearby with her Steam Deck and headphones in HappiTea. 

As she sipped and putzed around on her digital farm, she found herself drifting back to the holidays, her thoughts the mental equivalent of the crocheter’s dreaded ‘yarn barf’ and she was going to have to take the time to unravel them.

She started combing her fingers through the mental mess, snatching at individual threads, pulling one here and loosening another there to try to straighten out the whole damn thing.

For starters, Christmas this year had been nice. She knew from experiencing it time and again that the sorrow of loss never truly faded, but for the first time in a long time, she’d gotten through a holiday without a panic attack or, hell, even a damn migraine. She wasn’t sure how much of this was due to the passage of time, her sister, or Astarion.

Yeah, ok, so maybe she did actually know.

It was Astarion’s fault. She just could not do a damn thing but enjoy his company, try as she might. Her ‘no biting in Arkansas’ rule had gone straight out the window into the snow on Christmas Eve and hadn’t crawled back in to reestablish itself afterward, certainly not on the twenty-sixth after she knew her sister was convinced they were doing gods knew what down there.

Let her fucking think it, then, had been Jen’s take away. Then there was the fact that the amount of clothing during meal time had trended downward, and she’d been the one to instigate it.

With good reason!

And good effect, giggled the gremlin.

She rolled her eyes at herself and sipped her bubble tea.

Gods, she knew this was going to happen. Jen closed her eyes and laughed under her breath with grim amusement. She’d given herself all of a couple of days the night she met him. She had always known that those teeth were going to sink in and not let go.

Ok, so… they had. Now what?

Izzy had been one hundred and ten percent correct that their relationship was - what even? Different? A step higher than friends and lower than intimate? Nope. That wasn’t honest. Not at all. Jen herself had correctly identified that they were, in fact, their own weird brand of intimate with each other already.

Weird for her, at least. Astarion had probably occupied any such number of fun, convenient relationships, surely. Tav had been one thing, but after Tav was gone, there had to be something else in the decades that followed.

Her phone buzzed on the table.

‘All finished, my dear.’

Jen shook herself out of her mental nest of yarn, stuffed it back in its imaginary bag, shut down her game, and packed herself up to go retrieve her… bestie?

Astarion waltzed out of the salon with his nose in the air, making her grin like a damn idiot to see it.

“Enjoy your boring tea, did you?”

“Very much.”

“We have to head back for your game tonight, yes?”

“Nah. We take off on holidays usually. People get busy travelling and all that.”

“Oh! Well, let’s head home and continue ours then,” he suggested, splaying his fingers in front of him to examine nails he'd probably already been examining for an hour straight at this point. She did not get it at all sometimes. But then again, probably worked in reverse, too.

“If you’re up for it.”

“I’m feeling wonderful,” he announced with a dramatic little flourish.

Jen smiled.

“Alright, then. Deal.”

---

The very first thing she did after the screen loaded in was waltz over to Astarion’s tent and inform him that he could bite her again that evening. The whole thing was pure muscle memory on her part, and she hadn’t given it a second thought until the man sitting behind her fell into a giggle fit immediately.

“Laugh it up, fangs,” she muttered, ignoring him and orienting herself in the quest log again. Ah yes. Halfway through goblin genocide. When the mention of Cazador had abruptly ended their fun.

Jen ran the party around the commandeered temple, noting that they’d cleared all the wings of goblins, leaving only the prison, Dror Ragzlin, and the door guards, so she led them down to talk to Halsin, opening the encounter by using digital Astarion to sneak up and eviscerate the patrol by the door.

Well, she’d been intending to start the encounter that way, but the fucker had one shot the unfortunate gobbo, so she tried again, creeping him down the steps and determining to hamstring the goblin she knew would run to release the worgs.

Or… not. She snorted in amusement as she stared at another dead goblin and an initiative bar that started with Astarion and ended with a full cadre of surprised enemies.

Welp. Who needed tactics when you could just destroy everything in your path with brutal efficiency?

Astarion giggled behind her and sent his sorcerer Tavstarion in to start sniping goblin children before they could run for any kind of help. Jen sent Tav up to help waylay the other melee goblin to the left while Halsin tore himself out of his cell and crunched a fourth.

With most everything dead after the surprise round, Jen left half the party back up the stairs out of combat and mopped up with what they already had engaged below, pressing Halsin for information about the parasites after combat before agreeing to help finish off the leaders and heading out to kill the final one.

“Darling,” drawled Astarion as she piloted his digital counterpart over to the shadows where she intended to do the exact same song and dance all over again to start the fight against Ragzlin.

“Sup?”

“Can I control me?”

Her knee jerk reaction was to immediately tell him no. She used Astarion more frequently than literally any other character, and every combat strategy that she had tended to involve leveraging the rogue to his fullest.

“Mmmmm, I don’t know,” she responded. “I kind of need you?”

“Oh, darling, I didn’t know you felt that way,” he purred back.

“Oh shut up. You know what I meant. Digital you. Strategically.”

He scoffed at her.

“To do this thing that you always do? Sneak up and murder everyone? I assure you I am quite familiar with the tactic, my dear.”

She glanced back over her shoulder at him and found he was grinning at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. She looked away sheepishly and turned back to the screen.

I mean, this is his playthrough afterall.

“Alright, fine.”

She sorted the characters and assigned Astarion to Astarion, feeling more than a bit defenseless without her vampiric murder machine under her control. And she wasn’t going to get all of his little lines all the time anymore either.

She stared at the space between her face and the monitor. Gods, was she jealous of handing a set of pixels over to him? Really?

“Wonderful,” he purred, and Jen watched digital Astarion creep off ahead to start the party, shanking one human, tearing the throat out of the human next to him, and then planting an arrow in the chest of the exact same goblin she’d wanted to neutralize first.

“Just don’t end your turn until someone else is in combat, or we skip all the free shots.”

“Yes, alright.”

“And leave him alone at camp so we don’t miss the cutscenes.”

“Yes, yes. Are you going to join the fight, my dear? Any time now.”

Jen looked down at every other character with a pout. Now who the hell was she going to use? Tav, she supposed, who was at least a dab hand with the rapier. And Karlach or Lae’zel.

The rest of the team dogpiled on the surprised goblins, clearing half the room before they could react, with Astarion waiting for her to go through half a dozen character actions. She sighed. Maybe this would go faster if she had fewer to control.

“I guess I could hand over a few other characters, too, if you want,” she offered as he sat waiting. She wouldn’t mind offloading Wyll and maybe Lae’zel to him, keeping Gale, Karlach, and Shadowheart.

“I want Karlach,” he replied.

“No. I get to keep either you or her. I need one or the other of you. You can have Lae’zel.”

“Lae’zel is no fun.”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll take your leftovers.”

Combat did start to flow a lot faster with half as many actions to plan for, and she had the healer and crowd control under her command, still, so things weren’t likely to go too sideways. The game also hadn’t been balanced for a full party of eight, so…

With Dror Ragzlin and his entire entourage dead, Jen moved her mouse to select digital Astarion, swearing under her breath as she recalled she no longer had him.

“Hey, will you check the rafters? There’s loot up there.”

“Certainly.”

“Thanks. Also, there’s a patrol out the door, so if you could take care of them, too, that would be fantastic.”

She caught a snort behind her before he cleared his throat and imitated his own activation line back at her.

“With pleasure.”

“Are you going to do that every time I ask you to do something in game,” she grumbled.

He paused for a moment, giggled, and responded.

“I wonder…”

“Ha ha. Very funny. Are they dead yet?”

“Coast is clear, darling. Let’s return to Halsin.”

They did, informing the druid that the grove was safe once again and agreeing to meet back with him there. After finishing what remained of the isolated bands scattered around camp, Jen had them return and check in with the grateful tieflings, making sure to get Karlach down to Dammon before initiating the long rest and the party scene.

She sat up in her chair, hesitating for a moment as she realized something. Attending the party with a romanced Astarion meant she was about to get a second proposition.

“Hey,” she said, catching his attention. “If you’re done running around and stealing everything the druids haven’t nailed down, there’s more fun dialogue with you during the party.”

“Ah yes,” he purred after a pause in which Jen was pretty sure he was recalling the actual event. “There certainly would be, if my memory serves me.”

She grunted.

“I’m waiting with bated breath then, my dear.”

She rolled her eyes and sucked down a breath to steady herself before this damn line.

“Here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

Jen clicked on the only option her smitten brain was ok with in that first playthrough.

‘You don’t have to ask twice.’

She heard a laugh behind her, dropped her head, and exhaled.

“I’m amazed you managed to keep your mind clear enough to fight. I’ve been thinking about our last night together ceaselessly.”

Jen snorted. She wished she could just stay quiet, but she couldn’t help but react to him.

“I’ll be in quite a spot of mortal peril if you let me keep distracting myself dreaming instead of doing. We can’t have that, can we? It would be very dangerous.”

‘I’ll come find you after everyone is asleep.’

“I’ll be waiting.”

“You just couldn't resist, could you,” Astarion asked, and she didn't have to see him to know he was deeply amused.

Jen turned and glared at him, trying to keep a grin off her lips. She held his gaze as she flicked her thumb nail against a fingertip thoughtfully.

“No. But what about you? The best lies have a seed of truth. How much of that was an act? Or were you falling for Tav by then?”

Astarion sat straighter and looked back at her. She watched him now, satisfied as he had to take a moment to decide how to react to her question.

“I felt… something by then, yes. Obviously I was still seducing her for my own devious ends, but that first night was different and it did linger. Even if I wasn’t ready to feel it yet.”

Jen tilted her head at him for a moment, surprised by his candor, and turned back to her screen.

She clicked on him again, just to make sure she’d definitely told him he could bite her, as though she didn’t every morning, and was surprised to hear him call her a little treat all over again.

“Here’s my little treat, with their cheeks all flushed. You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?”

“What the hell,” she said, and then laughed. “Did this just bug out on me? Do we get to go through this again?”

“Hm?”

“Click the ear. It’s the same scene.”

She laughed again.

“Want to hear some of the other options,” she asked, not waiting for an answer, and instead selecting the more fun option she’d taken to using in later playthroughs.

‘“A little treat?” You can do better than that.’

“Oh, I certainly can. It would be my pleasure. How about this one: All these accolades from the tieflings are nothing compared to the sound of my name, cried from your lips.”

Jen exhaled sharply, shifted in her chair, and smoothed out her jeans.

“That one was pretty slick,” she said. “But this next one…”

‘Mmmm, keep going.’

“Hmm, let me give it another go: Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation - it’s as if the gods made you just to ruin me.”

“That one is dorky as hell.”

“Excuse me?”

“It is! That is one of the worst lines I’ve ever heard,” she laughed.

He humphed at her indignantly, opening his mouth to quip back at her, but shutting it as she progressed the scene with another click.

‘You’re sweet, and a little sillier than I thought.’

“I can go all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want? How about if I said these little words… Everyone’s favorite… I love you.”

Jen contemplated the pixels on the screen in front of her. If the man was acting here, she had the hardest time telling because the face he made on screen didn’t line up. It almost felt to her like he realized in this moment exactly what was going on, the words that he’d used so casually and manipulatively in the past were suddenly true for him and he had no idea what to do.

‘You’d be lying.’

She watched the man on screen recover, slipping into the persona again.

“Ah ha, but a rather beautiful lie, nonetheless. Now as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favorite lines at you, I’d much rather we got to experience each others’ full portfolio of talents once again.”

‘I’ll come find you after everyone is asleep.’

“I’ll be waiting.”

“Can we do it again,” he asked.

“Dunno.”

The answer was yes, apparently. He was well and truly bugged.

“You don’t have any other pick up lines if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Then do them again and pick something else.”

She went with the middle option this time, ‘Very presumptuous. I’m undecided what I’ll do tonight yet’ and then squinted her eyes shut to not watch him say the next line.

“Ah, you need a bit of enticing, let me see.”

She expected the exact lines either way she picked from here, but selected the middle option for good measure.

‘So many honeyed words, as usual.’

“Not half as sweet as when I tasted you.”

The response caught her completely off guard, made her smack her hands over her mouth, eyes wide and staring at the screen.

“Well, that one landed,” Astarion chuckled.

“I forgot about that one,” she muttered, putting her hands back down on the mouse and keyboard sheepishly. She continued through the chat asking digital him if he was having fun so he could hear his own line in response to that one, too. She watched, yet again unsure what was going on behind the face, truly, there.

“What happens if you turn me down,” he asked.

“No idea. You don’t actually want me to click that, do you?”

“Of course not, darling. I just wanted to hear you admit that you’ve never done it.”

She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and snorted the breath back out.

“Ass.”

He giggled at her.

Jen walked Tav over to the bedroll and stopped short, remembering that although she’d been through the party dialogue plenty of times and didn’t feel like clicking through it all, Astarion had not.

“Let me know when you’re done,” she said, watching Tavstarion make the rounds.

Astarion laughed and tutted at her.

“Just can’t wait, can you?”

“Oh please,” she shot back with an exasperated sigh.

“Alright, darling, go ahead then.”

She heard the chair shift behind her, and turned to see him settling in for what he probably anticipated would be another scandalous scene. Jen grinned.

“Hate to break it to you, but you don’t get to watch them this time.”

He let out a disappointed ‘aw’ behind her as she clicked through the post party wrap up and listened to his one or two remaining lines.

After getting the shape of the coming quest from Halsin in the morning, they reappeared together in the grove. Jen paused for a second. She’d not killed Kahga or discovered the shadow druids in that first run through, but she really, really liked that poison damage necklace off of her for Astarion.

“Hey,” she said, “we’re going to do something called metagaming real quick. I didn’t kill Kahga the first time, but I know that she happens to no longer be relevant to the story and she’s got a necklace I think you’ll really like for your digital doppelganger.

“So uh, come over here and help me murder her.”

Astarion laughed.

“Absolutely.”

Notes:

I'm not going to tell you exactly how many chapters out we are, but the tipping point is imminent. Hang in there just a tiny bit longer and these two will be all over each other soon. ;D

Fun fact, I have a file I'm playing in tandem with writing this to get the cadence right, and Astarion 100% bugged out on party night. It's now saved under the title "bugged in the best way possible lol."

Chapter 30: Social Engineering

Summary:

What do you do when deception is your strongest skill? Take it to the internet, of course.

30. Social Engineering

Astarion had finally decided what to do for work in this strange, half invisible world. He could risk trouble out in the physical realm, or he could be smart about it by using this invisible playground they all inhabited half the time to his advantage.

As it turned out, Jen had actually handed him the key to free him from his predicament, though she didn’t know it, and he was quite certain she would not approve of his plan. When she’d been so thoroughly focused on planning for this quest to find Tav, she’d brought up a few terms he’d not heard before, notably catfishing. She’d even been kind and naive enough to inform him that catfishing was a scam.

Once he’d heard this, of course, he’d had to look up exactly how such a scam worked. To his delight, it was simply a term for posing as someone you weren’t, in this case online to get something out of someone, usually information, money, or salacious images.

Prior to this, it hadn’t occurred to him to use the internet to scam anyone, but once he started reading up about the whole thing, he found himself laughing at the ease with which he could pull these kinds of cons off himself.

He only needed some kind of made up persona, a way to reach out to easy marks, and a way to receive money from them, and all three of these he could simply find or create himself on the internet.

There was no shortage of gullible rubes out there, from all the nonsense he’d been wading through, so he’d decided to start with a variation of a tried and true classic he’d read about, this Nigerian Prince scam. Only in his case, he was disinherited from his rightful lands, including a small castle over in the UK, by a petty brother who hated the relationship he’d had with his father. He only needed a little monetary help to win the legal battle and take it back for himself. Then, he could invite his darling benefactor over to celebrate.

He’d started reaching out to marks on various platforms on the way home from Arkansas and had quite a handful of relationships going by now, which left only a way to receive funds.

That tended to be slightly more complicated. The obvious answer was an envelope of cash, and he had been assured that his ‘US based lawyer at the Law Offices of Cliffgate and Waterdeep’ had at least two of these inbound. The more interesting answer for this financial fraud seemed to rely upon the internet once again.

While traditional bank accounts would require this elusive ID to create, there were all kinds of peer to peer options for something called bitcoins, it turned out, and so he’d been busy setting himself up some online wallets to this end. None of the ones he had chosen had needed any form of ID at all.

It seemed that anyone willing or able to send him bitcoin tended to be a little harder to scam, but, over the course of a few days with some trial and error, he’d already managed to make as much as he’d previously pickpocketed, branching out from the ‘jealous brother dead father’ scheme to make some fake fundraisers, request transportation assistance through Uber gift cards, and other similar ideas, though some of these would need a bank account to pull money out of eventually.

Everything circled back to this damnable piece of plastic, this ID card. The problem of how to move about, how to open a bank account, how to get his own credit card, how to do anything, really, without an ID had been quite a conundrum, and left him with the only possible solution: he simply needed to get an ID of his own.

There were two ways to do this. First, he could get a fake one, and while this would work fine in some respects, it would be difficult in others. It seemed that this world was absolutely lousy with rules and regulations and security measures that made it rather difficult to rely entirely on a fake.

No, the better option, Astarion had decided, would be to procure a real one. This, of course, was one of the first things he had tried to figure out how to do once he realized how integral these stupid things seemed to be to everyday life.

He’d looked up how to get an ID with no previous ID and it was going to be damn near impossible for him to do. As far as he had determined, he was considered stateless until he could prove he had, in fact, been here the whole time, and he hadn't, which complicated things.

As luck would have it, though, it turned out that in this realm, the physical one and the intangible realm of the internet both, one of the most useful things to steal was someone’s identity. This discovery had sent him down all kinds of fascinating rabbit holes about online arms races, social engineering, something called the dark web, and any number of articles about the ways thieves evaded capture.

His main takeaway from a fascinating evening of reading was that as long as you took a few precautions, it was quite simple to mask who you truly were online, and given that he had had no prior digital footprint and centuries of deception expertise, this was remarkably simple for him to set up.

So while Jen sat on her computer doing her work, Astarion settled himself down to do likewise that Monday morning after Christmas.

His own attempt to steal an identity had started with his good friend Marisa. He had stumbled into her on some social app or another while looking for Tav. He’d realized the old woman had only the faintest idea how the internet worked, and thought she was talking to her estranged son on a public social media post.

Astarion knew an opportunity when he saw one, and had since cultivated this online relationship. The wayward son whose identity he had assumed had apparently ‘turned from God’ -- he suspected the same one that had driven Jen off -- and stopped talking to her ‘when Trump was elected.’ He had no idea what exactly that meant, but found it was a common story amongst a certain easy to target demographic.

Marisa was elated that her ‘son’ had seen the light, and Astarion had let her talk on about their times together when he was a sweet, young man, finding as much information about the actual man as he could while immediately beginning this ruse with multiple other marks.

The end goal was the golden ticket, a package of documents he needed to bring to this Texas 'Department of Motor Vehicles’ to get his ID: a birth certificate, a social security card, and a variety of other identifying articles. Browsing through the handy online checklist and some help articles in various places, he’d figured out that a parent may still have all of these for an adult child if he was lucky and chose his marks well.

Between those documents and a few more items like bills that would be terribly easy for him to forge with the internet and its ‘artificial intelligence’, he could have a legal identity in weeks.

The sooner, the better, obviously, so he started up a show for some background noise and considered where to start on his gullible little gaggle today.

“Hey mom. Just thinking about you again,” Astarion typed out to dear old Marisa, adding a cutesy little image of some bunnies and flowers that said good morning for good measure.

He repeated this process with at least half a dozen other chats, waiting to see who would answer him first this morning.

Grace was the first to respond.

“good morning bumblebee. you are awake early.”

“Yes! I have work soon. How was your weekend?”

Astarion took a brush to his fingernails while he waited for the response, scrubbing away any errant dirt that had crept beneath them on his hunt last night, keeping them pristine.

“very good I made the chicken casserole you used to like so much yesterday.”

“Delicious! I miss your cooking.”

As he was responding to Grace, another message came in, this time from his original mark Marisa.

“Thank you for the wonderful flowers, sweet pea. Xoxo”

Astarion sent her a smiley face back, waited a minute, and then began typing to Marisa again, keeping an eye out for any incoming messages from Grace.

“Did you find my old documents? I need them to get an ID here.”

And then to Grace, who had sent him a picture of some big headed, yellow cartoon bird with a caption that seemed to have nothing to do with the image:

“Speaking of missing, I still can’t find my birth certificate or any important documents. Do you have them?”

A third message came in, this one from Evelynn, asking him how his holiday went.

“It was wonderful, thank you.”

“Did you spend it with your wife and children?”

“Yes, we went to her mother’s house this year.”

“Oh, did you do anything fun with your other family?”

“We decorated cookies together and watched Christmas movies.”

“I’d have had gingerbread houses for the babies to build instead but cookies are fine. If you send me your address I can send some cards for them.”

“I think they would love to hear from their grandma. Tell me when you send them - my wife is not open to making peace yet. I’ll need to pull them out of the mail.”

“Of course sweetie. I’ll send some Christmas money for both of them.”

“That is so sweet of you, mom. Are you sure?”

“Of course. I miss my grand babies.”

“They miss you, too. By the way, do you have copies of my birth certificate and all still? I’m not sure where the wife has mine and she’s too busy to find it.”

“I’ll take a look and send them with the cards if I do.”

“Thank you mom! :) You’re the best.”

So now he was potentially up to three different identities he could steal and it wasn’t even midday. Gods above, this was all too easy! Astarion giggled.

“What are you laughing at back there,” asked Jen from her desk across the room.

“Oh nothing much, darling. Just some things on the internet.”

“Hm. Any luck on the Tav front?”

“No. Not yet,” he sighed. The woman was relentless. There were moments he almost regretted telling her about the whole thing. Every third question from her was about Tav. Any luck. Had he seen anyone hopeful. Had he talked to anyone new. Where should they go next.

He appreciated her enthusiasm, but sometimes he didn’t want to think about it. He’d rather just go sit in the sunshine or scam people out of their cash. This quest had consumed his life for the last decade at least, now, and he knew he had to pace himself to get through it, couldn’t do what he did in those first manic years.

Jen, however, did not.

He paused his typing, reflecting on his friend. Or perhaps she kept focused on it so that she didn’t have to face anything else. Kept her nose buried in it in place of everything else she was determined not to face.

Including him.

Hm.

She hadn’t shirked away from his doppleganger’s flirting this weekend, a fact that he couldn’t help but note with some interest. She’d even replayed the lines, joked with him about which she liked, didn't even panic when she got caught off guard by his digital counterpart's remarks about how she tasted. It was a marked change from her unbearably sour attitude the first time and he was beginning to think that she might come poking around that open door he’d left her before much longer.

Mmmm, that would be a fun addition to their quest. Little miss mud mephit moaning and screaming for him? He’d love to hear that, to taste her afterwards. Especially after she’d try to fight it for this long.

He swallowed a giggle. He knew she wouldn’t last forever once they'd gotten to the heart of the issue. She just needed a little time to sort herself out.

Naturally, he had been quite curious as to where the sex scene at the tielfing party would go with the two of them watching this time, so he had found himself rather let down when she informed him in a smarmy little voice that there wouldn’t be one.

No matter. There would be more opportunities to work at her, too, he was sure. She was shy, but that was nothing he hadn’t handled before, and as long as she had something else to keep her overactive little brain occupied, she wouldn’t even notice.

“Are you up for some more of our game, tonight, my dear?”

She responded, not taking a break from whatever she was typing back there.

“Sure, if you’d rather do that. Your quest, your call.”

“Yes. I think we should spend some time with our game this week.”

“Camping is the thirty-first, so I’ll be gone then and back later on the first.”

Ah yes. Off into the woods again.

“I thought I was coming with you, my dear.”

He heard her sigh.

“You really don’t have to. I mean, you can, but I know the woods aren’t your cup of tea.”

“No. But they are my buffet. Especially if my main course is wandering about in them for the night.”

He grinned as her heart rate sped up for a few beats. Besides the promise of human blood, he'd found so many more delicious things to eat when they'd been in Arkansas. He was hoping that this trip would be similar and allow for easier pickings and be full of new creatures he could sample after he’d supped on his favorite appetizer.

“You’re welcome to come with.”

“Wonderful! That’s settled then.”

His phone vibrated on the desk in front of him. He glanced down, noted it was just Marisa again, making more small talk.

“Let’s play Baldur’s Gate this evening, see if we can push the story along this week. Then after this New Year’s holiday, we can find more places to look for Tav. I’ll keep up my work on the internet until then.”

“Sounds good,” Jen replied mechanically, staring at her screen, still typing away.

Astarion turned back to his chats, switching personas to work on his money marks this time, striking up no less than another dozen conversations.

Gods, to be able to just sit here, watch his shows, and get rich without having to risk a damn thing? It was too easy!

He’d have a damn fortune soon, and all the means necessary to travel anywhere they needed to to find Tav.

Notes:

Modern problems require modern solutions. Astarion would be a terror online once he understood the landscape and the basic shape of an internet scam. The real fun is going to come in when he's trying to keep it from Jen, and what she'll think of his "job" if she figures out what he's up to.

Chapter 31: Resolutions

Summary:

Jen contemplates the New Year and decides on a resolution. Astarion has no objections to helping her with it.

Notes:

Astute readers may have noticed the tags just got updated. That's because this chapter is VERY NSFW.

Content warnings:
-Graphic depictions of sex, including fingering, oral, teasing, PIV
-Very light consensual bondage
-Biting, blood drinking

31. Resolutions

Jen watched the flames, curled up in her camping poncho in the hammock chair, listening to the quiet winter evening. The wind played in the bare branches, setting them tapping together above the water lapping the shore of the lake down below. A few fireworks popped sporadically across the reservoir, far enough away that the muted sound blended seamlessly into the night.

They’d made their way out to the campground in the afternoon, giving Jen time to set up camp and cook dinner over an open flame, an art she was still mastering when it came to anything more involved than pasta or hotdogs. As the night fell, she slipped into the obscurity it provided with a satisfied sigh.

A whole new year ahead. Usually she’d spend this night talking to the empty woods around her, speaking her hopes and fears into the nonjudgmental winds, letting the trees be her witness. She’d sing a song or two to greet the upcoming year, to mark the passage of time, then stay up late and think. Decide on a resolution.

The fire cracked and popped over the tinkle of the hot bed of coals. Jen watched the flames lick the night, her mind drifting in and out of the hypnotic pattern. Her resolution last year had been simple: make it through the year. She knew in her bones that it would be challenging enough, and she’d been right.

She’d been so very right.

She risked a glance at the elf lying in the hammock off to the side, reflecting on what a whirlwind the last month had been, how suddenly life had taken a turn again. How glad she was to have a companion who understood, who had faced similar and persisted -- kept persisting -- despite everything. How damn inspiring the fucker was without even knowing it.

She thought back to the evening she’d come home from work to find him digging through her toys, when he’d opened up to her about the struggle of leaving the darkness, wanting something better. His words had been tumbling in the back of her mind ever since.

The fear he must have felt, coming clean to Tav like that, fully expecting to be abandoned for what he’d done. Jen imagined herself trying to find the words, approaching Tav in the depths of a night like tonight, uncertain, terrified, but resolute.

Resolution.

Another burst of fireworks crackled across the lake, and she watched the glittering gold sparkles rain from the sky, fading into ephemera like memories into time. She thought back again to the spring break she’d determined to drive up to nowheresville Kansas to meet Jeremy, how that weekend had played out.

She’d been resolute then, completely uncertain and completely sure the entire drive. Uncertain of what the hell she was doing, but sure that she needed it, that she wanted it. A decade on, it wasn’t the fear that lingered. It was everything that had happened afterward. How blissful it had been together that first week. The flowers he’d sent the morning after their first night together. How free she felt. How everything blossomed from there. 

Jen found herself staring back across the chasm of time and wishing she had that kind of optimism again, wishing she could borrow just a fraction of her past self’s courage this year.

“Hey, do you guys make New Year’s resolutions in Faerûn?”

“Hm?”

“It’s a tradition here that people make a resolution for the new year and try to keep up with it. Eat healthier. Work out. Learn an instrument. Things like that.”

Astarion shifted, turning sideways in the hammock so he could see her.

“No. We do the opposite, letting go of things in Uktar. But it’s very much the same idea.”

“Last year, my resolution was simple. Make it through another year.”

Jen stared at the flames, catching the glimmer of moonlight on the water through the trees behind the fire.

“I made it, and I’m not sure what to do with myself now.”

Astarion joined her firegazing as sparks leapt into the sky at the ebb and flow of the breeze. Jen continued to watch the fire, but found her gaze drawn to his face. That solemn, goofy, chaotic man staring into the flames with her. Somehow both mercurial and adamantine.

She adored him, was going to bend over backward to get this man what he wanted, just as her very first -- and every subsequent --Tav had done after hearing his terrified confession in the shadow cursed lands. She couldn’t banish her fear any more than he had banished his then, but she could resolve to face it like he did.

“I think you’re right,” she said above the flickering breath of the campfire. “I was thinking about all the times I was afraid, what I was afraid of, what happened, and honestly, I think those times all led to the very best of me. And it’s not the fear I remember most afterwards.

“I used to be terrified to camp alone, and now it’s a haven. I was terrified to explore the woods by my home, and now it’s the most peaceful part of my life. I was terrified to drive hours and hours to meet Jer in the middle of nowhere, and we ended up happy together.

“I want me back. I don’t want to be what the world’s crushed me into being any more.”

They stared at the fire in silence, breathing in the wood smoke, the night air, the lake water, and the juniper. Listening to the melodic crinkle of coals and the pops and hisses of the logs.

“I can’t resolve not to be afraid, but I can resolve to tell it to shove right off when it comes to call.”

Astarion smiled at her.

“You’ll do wonderfully,” he said.

She watched him as he continued to stare into the flames. His face glowed in the dancing light as the wind tousled his hair. She examined his eyes, deep crimson in the darkness, but glittering ruby in the daylight, she knew. The lines of his cheeks and the curve of his jaw arching perfectly into those damn pointed ears that she had an insatiable desire to play with. 

Somehow delicate and masculine in a way that she’d only ever seen elves accomplish. His slight frame carved from perfection itself. And the wit and willpower within it. She sighed.

Nothing scared her more than Astarion did, everything he embodied and everything he meant to her. It was time to face that this year.

Jen turned back to the fire, watched it gutter as a log shifted and cracked, falling into two pieces and sending a shower of embers skyward. She looked toward the pile of firewood and the poker leaning against the oak tree between the fire ring and the shelter.

It was probably time to let the flames die out tonight. She collected herself and slid out of the hammock chair to grab the poker and tend to the glowing logs that remained, breathing in deeply as the wind blew through again, whipping the fabric of their hammocks and sending woodsmoke curling around her.

Jen bent and picked the iron up, straightening to turn back to the fire. She froze as she felt gentle hands come to rest on her shoulders.

“I saw you looking, darling,” he whispered, voice so close. “If I’m wrong, tell me.”

Breathe.

In.

Then out.

She willed the tension in her shoulders away as she exhaled and spoke softly.

“You're not wrong.”

Astarion’s hand left her shoulder, brushing down her arm before taking the fire poker from her gently and tossing it aside in the grass. He brought his hand tracing back up her arm and she closed her eyes, willing herself to be calm. To relax.

To ignore the doubt, tell the fear to shove off, and lean into this.

For the love of all that is holy, lean into this.

Astarion’s exhalation trickled down her spine as he stepped up against her back, hands dropping from her shoulders down her flanks to rest on her hips.

“You can change your mind at any time, my dear, alright?”

“I know,” she whispered. “I trust you. I want this. I’ve just…”

She trailed off as Astarion slid a hand from her hip around her middle. Jen felt her stomach flutter under his touch and willed herself to just lean back against him, to feel his presence at her back, not pull away from it like the doubt wanted.

His other hand slid up her body before his fingers traced her chin and jaw lightly, touch whispering delicately across her skin. She felt him nuzzle into her hair, brushing it aside, and place a chaste kiss on the nape of her neck.

Jen’s skin prickled at the feel of his lips. The kiss was both the first little release and the promise of things to come, the sliding tug of removing her hair tie after a long day, releasing trapped locks in preparation for the evening.

Jen stood frozen under the sensation, still nervous, unsure what to do with herself.

Touch him, whispered the gremlin.

She slid her hands down, reaching slowly behind her, digging her fingertips into his thighs tentatively. She felt him sigh against her skin, and her stomach did a flip, sending the gremlin into a gleeful fit of giggles.

Astarion planted another kiss on the back of her neck, a little lower, a little more insistent, and she breathed out shakily, as he repeated it twice more.

“You taste delicious,” he whispered into her ear, stroking her jawline with the back of his fingers. His lips closed around her ear lobe as he sucked it into his mouth. Jen fell back against him, shoulders melting into his chest at the sensation of his teeth scraping gently across her ear as he released her.

“The perfect appetizer,” he breathed, sliding the hand on her middle beneath the poncho, beneath the cotton shirt, running his fingertips back and forth just above the waist of her denim jeans, leaving her skin jealous of itself, thirsting for his touch.

She found her fingers digging deeper into his thighs, clutching him, seeking to pull him against her, trying to break the bounds of reality and eradicate any space remaining between them.

His hand dipped lower as he chuckled, a pair of fingers trailing beneath her waistband, slipping beneath the elastic of her undergarment. Jen whimpered quietly, fighting to stay standing on shaky knees as her core and thighs came to life at his touch.

Gods, he’d barely done anything and she was already melting. Maybe this-

She stopped.

No. This was exactly what she wanted and it was time to own that.

Jen breathed in and out, letting herself melt. Not trying to stop what he was doing to her, the effect he was already having. 

Astarion chuckled again, a dark, rich sound perfectly in tune with the night air around them.

“Mmm. You do want this, don’t you?”

Jen couldn’t find words, and nodded instead.

A strong arm wrapped across her torso, keeping her on her feet as his hand explored lower and lower. Jen’s eyes rolled closed, captivated by the sensation of him exploring this forbidden area of flesh with unhurried curiosity.

Her breath caught as his finger paused just above the hood of her clit.

Gods, please! Just a little lower.

As though he’d heard her thought, he pulled her tighter and slipped his finger home, began caressing that gloriously overwhelming spot. She pushed her hips back against him, heat flaring into life in her face as she felt the unmistakable evidence of his mutual enjoyment swollen against her.

She trembled and groaned, starting to sink under the weight of sensation as Astarion continued to caress her. She knew with certainty that he was going to work her right to the edge here against this tree, fully clothed, and she heard his name stumble from her lips at the thought.

He spun her around and stepped her back against the trunk.

“Oh no, my sweet. I want to see this.”

Jen glanced up at the sound of his voice, the low timbre, the edge of raspiness beneath the silk.

She tried to hold the look in those crimson eyes, tried to keep steady under the heat of his expression, but her head fell back against the tree, mouth falling open with a groan as he began stroking her again, fingers playing in her folds and caressing her clit lightly.

He stepped closer with a throaty sigh, pinning her to the tree with his body, his hand between them as he continued stroking. She whimpered at the feeling of him pressed so firmly against her. The whimper melted into a surprised whine as he found her mouth with his, burying her in a kiss intended to drink the sound of her pleasure down.

She moaned into his mouth as a single finger traced circles against her. Astarion drew his lips back, sighing as she ground herself against him helplessly, tension growing deep within her body. He kept her pressed tight against the tree, teasing fingers refusing to let her slip away from the growing pressure.

His breath washed over her in deep drafts as he bent down to her neck.

When his lips met the flesh of her collarbone, Jen felt the first spark of the oncoming fireworks jolt her hips forward. She gasped at the sensation, fell to panting, air whining out of her as Astarion placed his forehead against hers with a soft sound that was half chuckle, half groan, and all pleasure.

The sound caught her unprepared and hit her like a spark meeting desiccated tinder. Her arms flashed up, clinging to his for support as the rest of her melted down in a blinding release of tension. 

The orgasm tore upward and outward, devouring nerves and muscle as it came. She hadn’t been ready for it so fucking soon, and she felt her knees give beneath her as her moan came out low and throaty.

Jen swallowed a deep lungful of air, letting it rattle out of her as she recovered her senses. Astarion laughed happily, staring down at her with a satisfied smirk and hungry gaze.

How… in the hell… had he… fuck.

He tched at her.

“That’s what you get for holding out for so very long. What are you going to do once I’ve got your clothes off, I wonder?”

She had no idea, stared at him, a quivering mess he kept braced against the tree, eyes begging him for mercy and for more.

“Let’s go inside, shall we,” he suggested. He didn’t wait for an answer, but lifted her and carried her in through the shelter door, depositing her on the edge of the picnic table. She let herself fall back, catching her breath, trying to make her brain do something other than spark and fizzle.

Hands undid the button of her jeans, and she swallowed, gaze sharpening on the rafters above her as she tried to prepare herself for what was coming next. She felt the descent of the zipper, and a gentle tug freed her jeans from her body.

“Oh, you’re a mess, ” he laughed, planting a kiss on her through the cloth of her undergarments. The resulting jolt that ricocheted through her sent her into motion, and she sat up. Astarion straightened, letting her move, watching her to see what she was going to do.

Jen reached out and untucked his shirt, slid her hands beneath it, placing her palms against his skin, and soaking in the sight of him looking at her like that, mouth open slightly in pleased surprise, eyes swimming with anticipation. She blushed and glanced down.

“Well, hello,” Astarion said, wiggling his torso against her a little.

“Off,” she said, the word stuck between a question and a command.

“Go on,” he encouraged her.

Jen’s shaky fingers found the first button of the flannel shirt and undid it, moving up to the next. Her breath caught as she slowly revealed more and more of his bare flesh, eyes feasting on the sight of him shirtless in the moonlight. Right here in front of her. Under her hands.

Once she’d undone all the buttons, Astarion shrugged it off and tossed it aside, grinning down at her.

“And now,” he asked, running a playful finger up the wet spot on her underwear. Jen swallowed a gasp and blushed, looking away again before deciding that the rest of her clothes needed to be off.

Right. Now.

She pulled the poncho off over her head and tossed it on the ground, listening to Astarion’s rippling laughter.

“Slow down, darling, we’ve got all night.”

She felt his hands on her again, taking her hands in his, planting a kiss on one, then the other, releasing them to slide a cool hand beneath her shirt. She lay back, heart fluttering under his touch.

“Now,” he whispered, leaning down. “Let’s see what treats are under here.”

Astarion slid the bottom of her shirt up, revealing her stomach, which he leaned down and kissed gently. Jen could feel the line of bunched fabric just below her breasts, was stunned by the weight of the sensation, how having her top on, but rolled up, seemed more sensual than simply throwing the whole thing on the ground.

She swallowed, trembling again as he kissed his way up to the fabric before he slowly rolled it further up, lips trailing in its wake.

Jen was not one for sexy lingerie, but holy hell she wished she’d chosen something skimpier than a sports bra today. The damn thing prevented him simply continuing up and planting more kisses between her breasts, something she found herself breathlessly hoping for, but her less than perfect wardrobe choice didn't slow him down.

He simply hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic and stroked her skin instead. He explored a moment before moving his thumbs up, taking the fabric with, as he worked his hands further up. He paused to caress a nipple under each thumb, and her exhalation turned into a constricted sound that ended just short of a whine.

His wordless noise of approval made her raise her arms up over her head, inviting him to finish undressing her, to do away with the coverings completely. He stepped against the edge of the table between her knees, grabbed her thighs and pulled her flush with himself, before he lifted the fabric free, letting her clothes fall onto the bench beside them.

Jen’s hair stood on end as she lay topless under his hungry gaze.

“Look at you,” he breathed. “You are shapely when you’re not hiding yourself away from me.”

Astarion leaned down over top of her, eyes tracing the shape of her breasts and she knew what he was about to do a full breath before he closed the distance. He took her nipple in his mouth and sucked gently, tongue tickling across it. Jen’s hands slid down onto his back, holding him against her skin as he wordlessly lavished his praise on one breast and then the other.

He licked her nipples into hardened roses before he kissed his way to her mouth. Jen met his lips hungrily, savoring the taste of them, the coolness, the tantalizing scrape of a fang.

Astarion straightened out of her grasp gently, looking down at her as she lay there.

“Well, darling. It seems the vampire finally found you all by yourself in the woods. What should he do with you?”

The gremlin, who’d spent hours imagining exactly this kind of thing, had ideas, and she caught herself glancing over at the rope sitting atop her bin of outdoor necessities. She flushed as she realized what it wanted, and yanked her eyes back. But Astarion was far too perceptive for it to slip his notice, and his curious gaze followed where hers had led.

“Oh,” he purred, spotting what she had. “I like where this is going.”

“I-”

He interrupted her with a tch.

“Too late, my dear. I saw the look in your eyes, and I want more of that.”

He stepped out from between her thighs and she felt her body strain to go with him for a moment. Astarion strode over and picked up the rope, examining it, running it through his hands, before turning back toward her smirking. She squirmed on the table as he drew near again.

“And what should I do with this,” he asked, gaze locked with hers.

Tie me to the table and fuck me.

“Tie my hands down,” she whispered, trembling.

“Mmmm,” he breathed. “I had hoped you would say something like that.”

He slid around to the side of the table, leaning down above her. The sight of his bare chest hovering above her made her want to strain up and lick it, to take one of those perfect nipples in her teeth and suck a gasp out of him.

Astarion took one of her hands in his, splaying his fingers through hers, holding it up as he wrapped a few lengths of rope around her wrist. He pinned her hand down firmly.

“Don’t move, darling,” he commanded, crouching down to tie off the end of the rope beneath the table. Jen lay perfectly still, watching him stand and take her in, breath coming faster as she recognized both hunger and desire rising to the surface in his gaze. One hand bound, he repeated the process for the second one. She tested the bonds, shivering in appreciation as they held firm.

Astarion was watching her expression, taking in every little flicker of emotion, every flushing blood vessel, every tightening strand of muscle. She met his gaze, lay there waiting, flesh aching for whatever he was going to do next. His face split into a conspiratorial grin. 

“Oh, darling, you are in trouble, aren’t you?”

He ran a teasing finger down her naked chest, stalked toward the foot of the table, eyeing her the whole time. As he passed lower, his nail trailed from her chest, down her stomach, down her thigh, hesitating a moment before it left her flesh.

She couldn’t look away; Astarion had her full attention as he prowled another slow circle around the table and he knew it. He made a show of thinking before he stopped between her knees, meeting her gaze with a devious grin.

“You like being caught, don’t you?”

Jen felt her eyes widen as she shivered at the hunger in his voice. A delicate hand slid up her thigh, touch transitioning from the brush of fingertips to the scrape of fingernails as it moved along her.

“That is fortuitous,” he mused, keeping those red eyes trained on her face. “Because I rather enjoy capturing things.”

His eyes flitted across her form, sideways smirk forming as she squirmed at his words, pulling against her bonds, heart nearly tripping over itself as it beat faster.

“Capturing them. And devouring them,” he said, looking down between her thighs with a deepening grin.

Jen whimpered quietly as he crouched down, silver curls, the tips of his ears, and his crimson eyes the only things she could see of him between her knees. The look he gave her told her that she was doomed. Whatever this man was about to do to her, there was no defending against it and if she thought she had any sense of dignity or propriety left, she’d best bid it farewell.

He placed another chaste kiss atop her cloth covered mound before peeling her underwear off of her. She tensed, expecting to feel his lips on her skin where he’d kiss her a moment before, but he teased her instead, kissing his way slowly back home, tracing her inner thigh with his lips and tongue.

It was already too much. She wiggled her hips, sucked in a breath she refused to let be another whimper, and pulled her wrists tight against the rope keeping her hands above her head.

Astarion laughed darkly and took her hips in his grasp, holding her still as he moved in for the kill. She felt his lips on her briefly before his tongue took over, and she moaned. No amount of shaking or twisting would let her escape him, not bound as she was, not when he held her firmly in place so he could explore her folds with his mouth.

She groaned again, feeling herself throbbing and pulsing as his tongue wound her ever tighter. She lay gasping, pulled tight against the rope, head rolling from side to side as her body tried to find any kind of release for the building pressure, any relief at all.

Just when she’d thought she couldn’t possibly stand another second, Astarion sat back, sighing as he took her in.

Two seconds ago she wanted him to stop, and now all she could think was how badly she wanted him to keep going. He stood and Jen’s breath hitched as he undid the button on his pants, then the zipper, sliding them down and freeing himself from the confines of the denim. He smirked at her, reaching a hand beneath his own undergarments, to stroke the bulge just tantalizingly out of sight.

She pulled against the rope again, forgetting about her bonds for a moment as the sight made her yield to the urge to touch. She wiggled in frustration, and Astarion watched her squirm a moment longer as he toyed with himself where she couldn’t see.

Jen thunked her head back on the table, staring at the rafters, and heard Astarion chuckle. When she looked back down, he had shed his underwear at last, had himself in hand as he gazed at her, stroking slowly.

She caught his eyes, blushed, immediately dropped her gaze to his cock, blushed more fiercely still, and looked away, gasping as she felt his lips and tongue on her once again.

“Hold still,” he whispered as she started to squirm again, “or I’ll have to find another way to keep you still for me, darling.”

If the line was intended to actually keep her still, it failed miserably. She fell to shaking twice as hard as he teased her with his tongue and lips. After another minute of working her into an ever increasing ball of frustration, he looked up and shook his head at her with a lick of his lips and a grin.

Jen felt a finger caress her entrance and caught her breath as he pushed it inside of her. She groaned as he curled it gently, exploring, testing, teasing until he could tell he’d found the right spot. He leaned back down, adding another finger inside her, stroking her as his mouth joined the fun.

Jen whined and moaned, beside herself at the sensation. She had no idea what the man was doing with his tongue at this point but it was absolutely dismantling her. She could feel that delicious stoking of heat and pressure, that inexorable climb to the edge of the cliff, the height from which she was about to fall growing higher and higher by the moment.

Her hips were rocking in time with his fingers and tongue now and she knew she didn’t have long before she came screaming down out of the sky to dash into a thousand pieces at his feet.

With a final chorus of rhythmic, ragged breaths, she screamed his name into the night and convulsed violently around his fingers, moaning and shaking in ecstasy as the orgasm swept through her. His groan of satisfaction as she came apart at his behest set her hair standing on end.

Jen lay there panting again, swallowing her heartbeat, wondering how the hell she could ever compare, how the fuck she was going to satisfy this man. When she opened her eyes and looked down, Astarion was standing at the foot of the table, stroking himself as he watched her on the table. He must have seen the shock in her face because he chuckled darkly, waved a pair of slick fingers, and slid them back into her as he continued to play with himself.

Jen heard a ragged ‘oh’ escape her as she pushed against his fingers, consumed by a new wave of desire as she watched Astarion pleasure the both of them. He stood with his mouth half open, staring unseeingly, before he closed his eyes and let out a groan that melted into a laugh as she convulsed around his fingers.

“What a mess you are,” he drawled slowly, punctuating each breathy word with another stroke, with both the fingers inside her and the hand along his cock.

Jen was ravenous for him. The sight of him, the sound of him, the taste of him, and most desperately, the feel of him.

Gods, just the feel of him inside her!

“Please,” she begged.

Astarion’s eyes snapped open and he lowered his gaze to her face as she lay flushed, breathing hard, bathed in sweat, radiating heat and need and desperation.

He slipped his fingers out of her, playing with himself another moment with an evil grin as Jen squirmed and whimpered. He was drinking in the sight of her as he massaged himself, face slack with pleasure, but his eyes remained sharp and mischievous.

“Please,” she groaned again, louder. Astarion slid up onto the table, crawling over top of her, bringing his face above hers to stare down at her. 

“I like it when you beg, darling,” he whispered, voice low and rough as he dropped his lips down to her neck, planting a light kiss on her aching skin.

She’d beg until she was mute if that’s what he wanted, if that’s what it took to get him inside her.

Astarion must have read the thought on her face; he lowered himself down on top of her, and she exhaled in appreciation at the feel of him long and hard against the skin of her folds.

Astarion chuckled as she began to shake, and he planted a few more light kisses along her neck and jaw line as she squirmed, her thighs and glutes impossibly tight with yearning. She could feel the length of him right there, right against her and she wanted him, every inch of him.

Astarion finally lifted his hips, reaching down to take hold of himself, no doubt to tease her further. Jen seized the opportunity to get her feet up on the table, using them to tilt her hips up and push. She caught him off guard, managed to slide the first inch of him into herself with a breathless sigh of appreciation.

“Bad girl,” he laughed, pulling back out. She groaned at him in response, pushed her hips up as he continued to pull himself out of reach. She could go no further and let her hips sink down with a petulant whine.

Astarion grinned down at her, eyes glinting in amusement before he lowered himself slowly, pausing so she could angle her hips to take him. Her eyes fluttered shut as he pushed himself deep inside her, pressing his hips flush with hers, filling her, completing her.

She felt a breath wash across her face and peeked up at him to find he had his eyes closed, mouth slack with pleasure, face a mirror of her own, awash with the thrill of feeling each other for the first time. She glanced away quickly as his eyes opened again.

“Don’t look away for my sake, darling,” he whispered, the light tremor in his voice causing her breath to hitch. She tried to look back up, to meet his eyes, and simply couldn’t.

“I-” she began, but stopped as Astarion interrupted her with a kiss. She let go of the thought, completely taken by the feel of his lips on hers, drawing her attention back to the feeling of him - him pressed against her, him deep inside her, him making her feel so gloriously full. Encircled, caressed, trapped, possessed. 

As he kissed her again, he slid a hand up one of her arms, taking her bound hand in his once again and holding it down against the picnic table. Jen exhaled a breathy laugh of satisfaction, moving her hips beneath him, reveling in the sensation that radiated out from her groin as she did so, the waves of pure electric bliss.

Astarion began to move his hips atop her and she forgot how to breathe properly, air exiting her lungs in gasps and ‘ohs’ as she moved with him. It was as though her murmurs were contagious; their voices twined together like their bodies, and she bathed in the satisfaction of each of Astarion’s clipped breaths and groans.

He’d started gently, moving in deep, languid circles, keeping himself pressed against her, buried deep, but as their mutual passion grew louder and more insistent, the snap of his hips grew sharper. Jen’s fingers and toes curled at the sensation as she strained her arms against the rope, gasping, pleasure collapsing her voice into an ‘oh’ as Astarion kissed his way up her neck, teeth and tongue dancing across her sweat-soaked skin.

“May I,” he growled, lips tickling against the line of her jaw as he spoke, punctuating his request with another delicious jolt of his hips.

“Please,” she breathed, turning her head so her neck lay exposed. “Please.”

Astarion groaned, bending his head to her neck, licking it, sucking it, and then biting down. Jen’s world dissolved. She felt herself clench around him, felt his hips grind deeper into her in return. She strained against her bonds, wrapping her legs around him and moaning his name. She loved the sound of it, did it again, elated to feel what it was doing to him.

Astarion lifted his head, gasping, and if Jen had had use of her hands she’d have grabbed him and pulled him straight down into a kiss, blood-soaked lips or not. He knew. The next time she opened her mouth to moan his name, Astarion bent down and stole it off her tongue with a coppery kiss.

It electrified her, making her desperate for him to continue; to keep thrusting, to keep drinking, to do whatever the hell he wanted if only it would make him feel like this, too. His mouth was at her throat again, licking and sucking greedily as he rocked himself into her over and over. There was only one thing she wanted in the whole world in that moment and she was desperate for it.

“Take me,” she sobbed. “Astarion, please!”

He plunged himself inside of her time and again, losing control of the motion at last. He held her pulse in his mouth and drank her down as she twitched and spasmed incoherently beneath him.

Her hands tied down, his fingers and fangs gripping her flesh, his body knocking the breath out of her with every desperate thrust, all Jen could think was how she wanted to scream his name from the rooftops right now, and so she did, over and over.

She half heard, half felt his muffled cry as he joined her in giving voice to their passion, unwilling to let go of her pulse. He came apart with his final few thrusts and Jen reveled in the feeling of his climax, throbbed around him, her eyes rolling closed as he emptied himself inside her with a deep, satisfied groan. That groan tipped her over the edge again.

With a final keening wail, she dove into that delicious plummet and let the orgasm take her, lock up every muscle in her body and burst into relief, pleasure ricocheting out, swamping her limbs and making her ears ring.

And Astarion wasn’t done with her pulse yet. As the waves of pleasure crashed over her, she suddenly found herself falling, just as she always did, deep into the torrent of their blood. This time, she found it a roaring flood that whipped her under immediately.

She drowned in it, electrified and paralyzed, as it held her under, trapped in the current that was Astarion’s rushing heartbeat. She couldn’t separate her own out from his any longer, had no idea if she even had one any more. She could feel the sharp pain at her neck, the coldness beginning to seep into her fingers and toes, but she didn’t give a damn.

Gods, if this was it, what a way to go.

And then, just as she always did, she came back to the sound of quiet murmuring. The feeling of fingers brushing her hair gently. Soft kisses soothing the pain where fangs had been. The scent of him as he held her close, tinged for the first time with sweat and passion.

She licked her lips and cleared her throat, found that she did, in fact, still recall how to breathe.

Astarion said something, was looking down at her. She blinked at him. He dipped his head in amusement, and some other emotion she couldn’t place, then continued soothing her while she searched for scattered bits of herself against him in the quiet, calm dark.

It took a little longer, but she was finally able to make sense of his words the next time he asked her his question.

“How do you feel, darling?”

“Amazing,” she breathed.

“It doesn’t, er, hurt too much?”

The oddness of the question and his expression jump started her mind again. She drew her awareness back from the depths of its slumber and sent it seeking through herself to figure out why he asked, sucking in a sharp breath as she realized her neck hurt. It was nothing to a migraine, but it was not the normal ache she’d grown accustomed to.

She noted that it was most definitely still oozing blood and that the wound felt much more substantial than normal. Deeper and more ragged. She heard a small throat clear above her.

“I got a little carried away,” Astarion admitted. “It’s been a while since I’ve enjoyed this particular, erm, position.”

It damn near felt like he’d ripped a chunk of her neck out, and she shuddered, as the gremlin in her skull cackled, exceptionally pleased with her for causing him to lose control like that, if only for a moment. 

“Have you got a bandage, darling,” he asked sheepishly.

“Bin under the rope,” she said. She grinned up at him and giggled. “Gods, I almost want that to scar.”

To have a physical reminder.

Astarion looked at her nonplussed for a moment before laughing darkly, his embarrassment chased off by her total nonchalance.

“Mmm,” he said, examining his handiwork. “It would look good on you.”

“Should probably bandage it all the same,” she said, blushing.

“You stay there, I’ll get the bandages.”

She glanced pointedly back and forth between her still restrained hands, before looking at him. His eyes sparkled above his smirk. She rolled hers in response. Astarion pushed himself up and leapt down off the table. 

Jen took the opportunity to enjoy the view as he walked to the supplies, cracked open the bin, and dug for the first aid kit. Bandage and wound cleaner in hand at last, he returned and climbed back up on the table, straddling her before collapsing down on top of her and giving her torn neck a nice, slow lick. 

“Fuck,” she hissed as pleasure and stinging pain rippled out from the bite mark. “Bandage the damn thing or bite me again, you tease.”

Astarion laughed delightedly as he pressed the gauze pad against her neck and held it there, examining her as he sat atop her. His eyes drank her in as they roved across her nude form, returning to her bonds more than once. She snorted as he looked again, couldn’t help but comment.

“You really like having me tied up down here, don’t you?”

“I very much enjoy having you at my mercy, darling. Almost as much as you like being there, I think,” he countered with a wicked grin. “I certainly hope this wasn’t a one time deal, my sweet.”

Jen tried to think of something clever to say back at the thought of doing all of this again. Whenever they wanted. She only managed to shake her head.

“Wonderful,” he purred, leaning back down as he continued to let his eyes rove over her. “Because I have some ideas I’d like to try with some of those toys of yours.”

Gods save me. This man is going to kill me after all. Or ruin me for everyone else.

“For now, can we start by getting me a blanket,” she muttered, flushing as she tried to remain present while her gremlin galloped off through endless possibilities.

“I suppose,” he sighed, looking down at her chest and making a goofy face. “Tid bit nipply, isn’t it?”

“Shut up and get me a blanket you dork.”

He giggled and finally reached up to untie her hands. She held the gauze in place against her neck as Astarion brought every single blanket or blanket adjacent item -- ponchos, towels, tablecloths -- into the shelter for her, adding each new item to the pile atop her with the courtly air of a knight seeking favor from his lady. Jen briefly considered trying to get off the picnic table, but honestly, couldn’t yet. She felt wonderfully worn out and his antics made her completely averse to moving whatsoever.

It was Astarion who finally coaxed her down with the promise of cuddling together under the mountain of blankets atop the two foam camping mattresses he’d pushed together. They burrowed in together and Jen could not keep her toes from curling and fidgeting happily as they giggled and pawed at each other like a pair of drunken teenagers.

“So,” he drawled after a while. “Happy New Year?”

Jen looked at him a moment, surprised to catch a tiny flicker of uncertainty in his teasing question. She smiled, leaned in, and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Very Happy New Year.”

Notes:

About fucking time!

I usually finish editing and post on Monday mornings to wake my brain up, but given the nature of this one, it's not going anywhere near the work network, haha, so y'all get the guaranteed chapter a day earlier than normal this week. I'm sure you're disappointed by this state of affairs. :)

Also this chapter is the longest one so far because, well, duh. Again, I'm not sorry for this.

Chapter 32: New Year, Who Dis?

Summary:

Jen and Astarion relax on the first day of the year, taking time to enjoy the sights around the campground.

Notes:

This is mostly more smut, though not quite as long and hard as last time. ;)

Content warning:
-Explicit depiction of oral sex

32. New Year, Who Dis?

The very first thing Jen noticed in the morning, besides that delicious ache of a bite mark, was that Astarion was absent. She snorted at herself as she realized that she had, in fact, slept naked in a mountain of blankets, towels, tablecloths, and anything else remotely similar.

With Astarion!

Covered in his scent and their sweat and oh dear gods was there anything more perfect in all the universe than what had transpired last night?

She lay there, floating in the feelings the memory stirred, laughing out loud as her mind flashed back to some random meme about being taken against a tree like the gods intended.

That man was all she could fucking think of this morning. Gods, his perfect skin cool against hers. That teasing hand with its skillful fingers. The taste of his lips and his skin as she’d kissed his neck playfully under the blankets. His eyes… hell, the eyes that drew her damn soul in and refused to let it go until he made it his.

The gremlin in her skull was bouncing around like a coked up squirrel, rattling the bars and demanding she go figure out where this man had gone because it needed him there. With her. Now.

Jen breathed out in a deep, satisfied sigh, steeling herself to move at last. She knew the camping poncho was in the blanket mountain somewhere, and fished around for the right texture to try to find it, sitting up and sliding it over her head when she did.

The rope lay curled in lazy swirls on the ground beneath the picnic table, and she felt herself shiver and blush, viscerally recalling the feel of pulling against it, trapped in helpless bliss.

Fucking hell.

Where was he anyway?

When she left the shelter, she noticed that Astarion had gotten a small campfire going for her and put the kettle of water on the tripod to heat up. 

She melted all over again at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but the taskmaster in her made the point that it also meant the elf had to be somewhere around camp. The shelter and hammock were both empty, so Jen looked toward the small trail to the edge of the cliff above the lake. Given that the sun had already climbed up over the water, she had a hunch he was off sunbathing again.

She made herself a cup of tea in her insulated mug, wouldn’t dream of neglecting the gift of a steaming beverage on a cold morning even in her haste to find him.

Poncho trapping her body heat against her, mug warming her hands, she slipped down the steep little path with its rock and root steps, wandering down past a line of juniper trees until she could see the cliff’s edge.

Fuck me.

There he was, picnic blanket spread out on the ledge overlooking the lake. The day was cooler than it had been the previous week, which meant that a wispy bed of mist rose from the water below. For all the world, it looked as though she was staring off into an unknown abyss.

Or would have been, had she not been staring at the figure sprawled on his back in the morning light. He’d not bothered to dress himself, or if he had at some point in the night, he’d taken it all back off to sunbathe.

The gremlin hissed at her to go and jump him. Sneak the rest of the way down the little footpath, pounce on him, and bury her face in his flesh without a damn word. Gobble him up and make him moan.

For once, she agreed with the little monster. Wholeheartedly. She took a careful step forward.

“Trying to creep up on me, darling?”

She'd been damn near silent, she thought, but of course he'd heard her. She let her head fall, stymied, but not defeated. So she stood there instead, letting her eyes rove over him before she grinned.

Say it, goaded the gremlin.

“Mm, just enjoying the view.”

She watched as his chest rose and fell in a quick breath of amusement.

“Are you coming onto me, darling?”

“Not yet. But I could be.”

His laughter tickled up her spine as he opened his eyes to look back over the top of his head at her. Gods how they shone with humor and invitation.

“Do you always think such dirty thoughts?”

“The gremlin that lives in my skull with me is terrible. I tell it to shut up only a billion times a day.”

“I think you should let it speak more,” he purred, gaze darkening, stretching a hand above his head and letting it rest. “Come closer.”

If she hadn’t been absolutely certain she was still human due to the fact that she wasn't burning up without sunscreen, she’d have thought he’d compelled her with that line because she didn’t even think about it. She just walked over and knelt on the blanket beside him. His eyes had tracked her the entire time, never leaving her figure as she slid down the trail, under a branch, and onto the ledge.

“You’re not wearing anything under there, are you?”

She grinned and shook her head.

“Hmmmm. And are you quite sure you’re comfortable sitting there? I could offer you a more pleasant seat.”

Her eyes widened alongside his grin. She opened her mouth to respond, but shut it again, looking away.

“No, darling,” he said. “What did the gremlin say?”

“It was more of a gleeful hiss than actual words,” she blushed. She didn’t climb atop him, not yet, though she was certain she'd get there. Instead, she set her tea off to the side, stretched out next to him, hesitated, and then placed a hand on his chest.

He sighed quietly and Jen absorbed the sight of him nude beside her, relaxed and peaceful, the stirring of arousal just beginning to color him. She traced his collarbone lightly with her fingers, listening to the lake and the breeze, but eyes unable to see anything but Astarion.

The longer she looked, the more she wanted to put her mouth on him, kiss his chest, his neck, and, holy hell, his ears.

Ears, hissed the gremlin in agreement.

Her hands had been tied down last night. She’d not gotten ahold of those damn ears of his at all. She picked her hand off his chest, and reached up, heart picking up the pace as she paused.

“May I?”

“What’s that,” he responded quietly, turning his head and watching her patiently.

She looked away but then looked back, couldn’t keep this stupid grin off her face.

“Your ears.”

“Mmmm. What about them?”

I want to lick them.

She stared at him silently for a moment before swallowing and replying.

“The gremlin wants to lick them.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “And what about you? What do you want to do?”

She felt her heart hammering in her chest, the words right there, already on her lips, and she took a breath and let them free.

“Taste you,” she whispered.

He laughed, and his laughter carried that deep note of anticipation with it as it encompassed her.

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask. Please. Do.”

Simply hopping on top of him and giving his ear a lick seemed a little, well, not forward, but maybe out of order? So instead she reached her hand up, took an ear between her finger and thumb and traced her way gently down the edge of it, watching his eyes flutter closed as she did.

Her touch did that. Her touch was making his breath short. Parting his lips. She glanced further down his naked form and felt her face flush. Her touch.

She rolled herself on top of him, seating her bare flesh across his stomach, and leaned forward, tracing an ear with her tongue, savoring the shallow breaths this produced. She took his ear tip in her mouth, nibbled and sucked on it, eliciting a quiet groan.

Astarion slid his hands under the poncho, rested them on her hips, clinging to them as she repeated this for his other poor, neglected ear.

“You’re going to have to let go,” she said, looking down at him, massaging them gently in her fingers. His eyes fluttered open, focused on her. She got out of her own way and grinned, let herself act like she knew what she was doing.

“Your ears aren’t the only thing I want to taste.”

The delight and desire this statement kindled in his gaze hissed up her spine. He held onto her still, and she knew he was wondering where the hells this person had been this whole time.

“Please,” she whispered, a tiny pout sneaking its way onto her face as she felt her toes curling and flexing nervously.

Astarion removed his hands, and she felt his abs tense beneath her thighs.

Jen licked her lips and turned herself around, could feel the wet puddle she’d left on his stomach as she shifted her position, sliding her hips up his torso to lean down close to him. She hesitated, gave herself a mental nudge, and took him in her hand, running curious fingers from his base to his tip.

She grinned as he twitched and did it again, playing with the tip for a few lazy moments before wrapping her hand around his shaft and stroking gently, spreading his wetness down him. Astarion grabbed her hips again, fingers digging in as he groaned.

Oh hell yes.

She leaned down and took him in her mouth, pausing to savor her first taste. She felt the goosebumps prickle across her as grasped her tighter, and leaned down, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth and closing it around him, tongue cradling him as she drew herself up his length.

She heard a throaty ‘darling’ behind her and cocked her head back with a sideways grin.

“I want to see,” he pouted.

The only possible response was to grant his request. She slid off of him and settled herself between his legs, glancing up past his erection to see him drinking the sight of her in. She grinned again, quite pleased with the success of this venture, and licked her way from his base to his tip, watching him rise up on his elbows, thrusting his head back as he twitched beneath her tongue.

She drew him into her mouth, bending down and stroking him with lips and hand together, heart running riot as he groaned again, the taste of him growing stronger on her tongue. She continued working him, teasing him, feeling his hips twist and shake as she threw her whole body into pleasuring this man.

Now stop and tease, the gremlin ordered.

Jen took her mouth away, letting her hand continue its slow motions alone. She was rewarded with a staggered little moan as his eyes flashed down at her, and she smirked at him, clinging stubbornly to his gaze as it berated her for this interruption in service. She blinked a few times at him, feigning innocence as he shot her a dirty look, desire deepening within it.

Jen knew that the longer she toyed with him, the worse the payback would be, and she welcomed it. But it wasn't long before she found herself craving the taste of him again, and turned her attention back to his cock, closing her eyes and licking the full length of it, teasing the tip with her tongue, before drawing him back into her mouth.

Jen moved again, mouth and hand working together, seething with excitement when raking her nails along his inner thigh with her free hand sent the man twitching and moaning for a moment. She found her body rocking in an echo of last night as she played her lips and tongue upon him, swallowing as much as she could handle, sneaking a gasping breath where she could as his body enticed her to keep going. Take more. Do it again. Do it harder.

She loved Astarion’s insistent little hip flicks, thought they were perfectly him, and she matched her rhythm to them as she stroked and sucked. She knew he was nearing his climax when those delicious breaths of his rolled themselves off his tongue in muted ‘ahs’. Gods, she was ready for him, wanted him. Every fucking drop.

She savored his final choked ‘darling’ as she felt him burst in her mouth. She pulled herself back just a little, held him in her lips as he pulsed, then dragged herself off of him and swallowed.

His fingers had bunched the blanket beneath him into wrinkled mountains as he held his mouth open to the sky, face frozen in pleasure. When he lowered his gaze to look at her, glassy eyed and slack jawed, hair unruly, with a curl sticking to his forehead, she’d never seen him look so damn gorgeous before. 

She shivered and crawled up beside him, flopping down onto her back, breathing hard. She turned her head to look at him beside her as he sat there recovering.

“Thanks for breakfast,” she said.

She watched Astarion's eyes light up as he laughed. In a sudden graceful movement, he rolled on top of her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her deeply, tongue begging at her mouth. She let him in and leaned into his lips until he saw fit to release her.

He stared down at her, needy and satisfied all at once.

“We could have been doing this for weeks,” he breathed.

She colored and shrugged.

“What am I going to do with you, my dear?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

He laughed again, rich and full bodied, then looked back down at her, scheming.

“If you’re quite finished with your breakfast, darling, I think I’ll start on mine.”

She felt heat transform her features and whispered back to him.

“Please.”

She was a sweat stained mess by the time he had his revenge. They lay together on the blanket, staring at the blue sky above them, just breathing for a while. Jen welcomed the chilly air, needed it to keep her from bursting into amorous flames as this gorgeous man beside her simply bathed in the sun, greedy for every scrap of warmth he could find.

“Hey,” Jen said. “Did you find anything good out there last night?”

“Mmm. I sure did. Great giant beast with horns three feet long at least.” He spread his arms wide above them in a pantomime of the horns.

“Uh, what?”

“Some kind of cow or ox or something.”

“Fucking hell, did you eat a longhorn,” she asked, suddenly realizing what creature he was talking about.

“Well, the name is a bit on point, so probably. Can’t imagine another beast with a name like that around here.”

“That was not a wild animal, Astarion.”

“Oops,” he giggled.

There was going to be a very confused rancher somewhere around here this morning. She started laughing at the mental image of a man in a dusty cowboy hat scratching the back of his head as he looked down at a perfectly healthy, dead steer.

“You’re awful,” she giggled, elbowing him.

“It was probably going to be eaten at some point anyway,” he retorted, waving her playful criticism off. “So, what’s on the schedule for the rest of the day, darling?”

“Dunno,” she said.

“What,” he asked in mock surprise. “No plan?”

“Not today. First day of the year, I just do whatever calls to me.”

“Wonderful,” he purred. “More sex then.”

“Astarion,” she yelped, smacking her hands down onto her face and scrunching it up beneath them.

“This is a wonderful little spot,” he said, gesturing around them. “Or we could go back to the picnic table, put that rope to good use. Or if you prefer, there is another conveniently positioned tree just over there.”

“I-” she faltered, staring into space, vaguely wondering if they should ask the tree’s permission first or if he was about to traumatize another trunk. “Let’s try the tree.”

Notes:

I mean, they've been waiting long enough!

This chapter mostly stemmed from my brain going holy hell she didn't get to touch his damn ears! And then a whole thing evolved from there.

We'll be back on the plot track next since we've still got some major mysteries to figure out, but there is likely going to be more smut in the future. Likely doesn't belong there, actually. There will be more. I know because I'm writing it already, lol. But until then, the fact remains, the quest is not yet complete and so these two have got to figure out what to do next.

Chapter 33: Astarion's New Identity

Summary:

Astarion has a crappy day on his super secret solo adventure to the DMV.

33. Astarion's New Identity

“Good morning, my sweet,” he purred, hearing Jen start to stir. Astarion held her close, his skin feeding on her warmth as they lay curled beneath his heated blanket, three cats scattered in various poses of comfort around them on the bed.

She murmured back at him, too sleepy for fully formed words yet.

Poor thing was not a morning person, and unfortunately for the both of them, he had to be up soon. He had an appointment at the Texas DMV that he needed to get to. That meant he’d have to extricate himself from this wonderful little moment and ensure he was looking his best for his official photograph.

Astarion breathed Jen’s scent in, wondering if he could nudge her into a quick bout of fun this morning. Alas, it was better to let her sleep. Wouldn’t do to wake that lurking pain of hers, and he had discovered that interfering with her sleep was an easy way to do just that. He wouldn’t be here to take care of her today, and she shouldn’t have to suffer that alone, not without him around to help make it better.

“My sweet,” he said softly, nuzzling in close so she could hear him, “I have an… appointment to go to today.”

“Hmm,” she responded questioningly as she stirred.

“I know you have your work today, so don’t worry. I’ll hail a carriage and be back in the afternoon.”

“Mmm.”

He smiled as he watched her brain try to string this all together through the placid haze of comfort and drowsiness as he slid his arm out from beneath her. If it wasn’t for the promise of sunshine and the culmination of a rather brilliant scheme, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have just skipped this appointment altogether to remain with her under the blanket.

But to see his quest through, and continue amassing his fortune, he had more cons to run. And those required an ID.

The worst part of this whole ordeal so far had been trying to get that damned appointment. Besides having to enter a frankly ridiculous amount of information online, appointments weren’t available for weeks, even months. He’d managed to find a tip, however, that told him when new appointment times were released back into the system, and so he had spent several days sitting and refreshing counties nearby at the prescribed time until he’d finally gotten lucky.

Astarion, or rather ‘Weston Wilcox,’ simply had to arrive at this office today by ten thirty, hand over all of his identifying documents, looks fabulous for his photograph, and then go open a damned bank account so he could access all these funds he’d raised ‘for Wabbajack’s vet treatment.’

It was amazing what he’d been able to do off of gift cards alone so far, Amazon being by far his favorite. He could get damn near anything he wanted off the website, didn’t even have to leave the house to do so. Once he’d discovered that Uber took gift cards as well, he was able to request quite a few of those online under the guise of job hunting as a washed up vagrant getting back on his feet. A few ‘borrowed’ accounts to avoid rousing suspicions, and it was easy to win trust.

Astarion reached inside the cat tree he’d been hiding his stash in, pulling out his envelope of cash and a few Uber gift cards. These should suffice for today, both for going to this appointment and for treating himself afterward.

Funds for his little side quest set aside, Astarion blitzed through his morning routine, finishing in just over an hour, which was honestly unfathomably fast.

Jen had appeared half way through, stared at him as he strutted about half clothed, swallowed, and hurried away to the game room. He might have chased her down and dragged her back out, insisting on taking her spread eagle on the couch if he hadn’t had places to be this morning.

He loved that she still tried to rise to the challenge, to keep up with their little back and forths, even in the context of the bedroom. She was a hell of a lot of fun now that he’d gotten past her defenses. Her curiosity and boundless enthusiasm were delightful, even if she was hopelessly outmatched.

Well, all of that and her utter inability to do anything but surrender completely to him in the end. Gods below, the two of them felt like two sides of the same coin when they were pressed together like that.

He giggled, finishing applying the last of his sunblock.

Astarion slid the envelope with his documents, cash, and cards into his inner vest pocket before opening up Uber to hail a carriage. He sauntered into the game room while he waited to make sure Jen recalled what he’d said earlier.

“I’m heading out soon, my sweet, but I’ll be back sometime this afternoon.”

“Huh?”

“As I told you this morning, I’ve got an appointment today.”

“I’ve got work.”

“I know, darling. I’m taking an Uber. I’ve got it all planned out, so no need to worry.”

She blinked back at him, scrutinizing his face, looking, he suspected, for some trace of what he was doing. The woman clearly assumed, quite rightly, that he was up to no good. He grinned and ran his eyes up and down her suggestively, leaning closer.

“You know, I have a few minutes before the carriage arrives, darling…”

He smirked as her face turned a beautiful, bloody crimson and she whipped herself back around to face her computer.

“I’m working.”

“A shame.”

She tried to grunt at him, but it came out more of a squawk.

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it,” he sighed, feigning exasperation while giggling internally. She was so very easy to throw off the trail now. It almost wasn’t fair.

A small wait later, with a final farewell to Jen, Astarion strode out to his Uber and let himself in, settling down to prepare for the road. He didn’t even have a chance to set eyes on the driver and click his safety belt on before being met with a barrage of words.

“Oh wow! You’re not going to a convention, are you?" She looked at her phone. "No. The DMV? Are they going to let you take a picture like that at the DMV?!”

Astarion sighed.

“Katie, I presume?”

“Yes, sorry. So the county DMV. Did you lose a bet?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Is that why you’re in costume?”

This again. Nine hells. If he wasn’t so fond of his look he’d have considered dying his hair at the very least. He'd have no luck taming the curls and there wasn't anything he could do about his ears.

“Ah, no,” he laughed awkwardly, “I do this for a living.”

“Ooooh, like a professional impersonator? Can you say one of your lines?”

Astarion glanced at the map on his phone. Thirty minutes of this. Wonderful.

“Which one,” he sighed.

“Do the one from the creche!”

He and Jen hadn’t gotten to that point in their game yet, though given that they were at the monastery, he had a hunch that they were about to be, and so Astarion searched for what lines she was talking about, buying time by asking her to be more specific.

“Oh any of them! They’re all so fantastic! I adore you!”

He felt the shiver of disgust slither up his spine and down his skin, not liking her overly familiar tone, uneasy at being stuck in an enclosed space with her all of the sudden.

“Please,” she asked again.

He decided that he would really rather not, but he stomached the sour feeling and cleared his throat, glancing back down select one of the lines she must have been talking about.

“Next time? No no no, if there is a 'next time,' I’ll be the one aiming the all-powerful weapon, thank you,” he said, channeling the desire to disintegrate the driver straight into it.

Katie laughed.

“Oh my God, you’re so good!”

He heard it echoing back across time. Gods Astarion, you’re so good! Some face he couldn't recall, but whose voice could still bubble up unpleasantly from the past. He reached up and grabbed the handle above the door, stilling himself before responding unhappily.

“Thank you.”

Perhaps if he kept things short, she’d get the message and stop talking.

“So do you play? You do, don’t you?”

Well she clearly hadn't. He squeezed the handle harder. Should he answer? Could he just not?

“Yes.”

“How do you usually spec Astarion?”

Why would she not stop? Was he obligated to keep this up? Astarion pressed himself against the door.

“A rogue.”

“What sub spec, though? Do you stick with canon?”

All he had to do was stop answering. Just stop. Answering.

“It depends.”

“On my last run, I had a tiefling Durge and I did a resist-Ascend run. I really think that’s the best route. Astarion doesn’t seem like he’s truly free unless he ascends, you know?”

Astarion stared at the back of this woman’s head, veins icing over, cold and clammy, hearing but not hearing what she just said.

“I’m sorry?”

“He just seems so sad if he stays a spawn. The graveyard scene breaks my heart. Besides, all he ever wanted was to be completely free and giving him that power lets him be. He’s just so alive and secure. Like, how is Tav any different than Cazador if she forces him not to ascend?”

Astarion could feel his heart stirring, the lurking fear and horror at the mention of Cazador’s name drenching him, but it was completely overshadowed for the moment as he tried to process what the devil she'd said about Tav. He sat trapped in the back seat of this complete stranger’s carriage listening to her prattle on as if she had any idea what he’d actually gone through.

What the devil had she just said about Tav?

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted again, anger constricting his throat. “Did you just say Tav is no better than Cazador?”

“If she doesn’t let him ascend, she’s just keeping him trapped.”

Astarion felt control slipping as pure, seething rage rose to the surface. Every sense began to hone in on the person in front of him, whispering to him, telling him how easy it would be to make her pay. How easily he could eviscerate her. How wonderful it would feel. How much better he'd feel if he took every bit of her blood as his in payment for this outrage.

Astarion struggled within himself, afraid to move. He’d even stopped breathing, scared inhaling any more of the driver’s scent might set him off.

Tav. Think of Tav. Tav who would have put a stop to all this had she but been here. Tav who had done nothing but protect him, put herself in danger to help him understand what he truly needed, how to be himself again. How to be free. Free from all of this madness.

He pictured her in his mind, sitting up in the dark with him, not saying anything at all. Just being present as he struggled to slip into reverie, guiding him with her voice as he did, helping him focus on the here and now, and not what he’d always seen when he closed his eyes.

Astarion breathed again, calmer and more in control, even as he looked at the idiot driving this bloody cage.

Were there really people who thought Tav was trapping him? As if he was incapable of making his own choice? What the devil did they show in this game? How much did these people, all these strangers, know about his past?

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he sneered. “It seems your mind is quite made up.”

“Oh. Well, agree to disagree then. You can keep sad Astarion.” She laughed.

Again, Astarion pictured reaching forward and choking the life out of her. He looked down at his phone instead. Almost halfway to the DMV. He could do this. He wouldn’t be murdering this driver in broad daylight no matter how badly he wanted to at the moment. Jen would kill him.

“Your Tav,” he sneered, hitting on an idea, “You have a whole involved story for her, I presume?”

This set Katie off again, after she’d corrected him that it was her Durge, and he half listened to her rambling, focusing on steadying the breaths he didn’t need to take, feeling the anger and then releasing it, recognizing the disgust and letting it go.

He was going to have to get through the rest of this game sooner rather than later. They still had quite a ways to go, but having something like this take him so off guard was absolutely not an experience he wanted to repeat. Did everyone have an opinion on this? Everyone who played?

He thought back to what he had seen so far, felt discomfort ballooning in his chest as he realized that absolutely anyone could simply open his story like a book, watch it play out while they lounged safe in their chairs.

Not a one of them had to go through it, not really. Not like he had. And then they would dare to judge him for any of it?

The car came to a stop.

“Anyway, so I’ll probably do that on my next run,” Katie ended. Astarion was opening the door before the final syllable fell from her horrid little lips.

“Well. Thank you for the ride. Have a day.”

He shut the door on the woman as she tried to say her own goodbye, choosing to be free of it and resolving to just put it behind him. He had quite enough of her and opted not to tip as his own little act of vengeance, his personal rating be damned.

Astarion stood in the sunlight again, feeling its warmth on his skin. Ignorant fool of a driver. He hadn’t needed to ascend for this after all.

Astarion spun and made his way inside a run down, stuffy little beige building, blinking at the abrupt change in lighting. Once through the door, he was directed to check in on the screen, and then take a seat to wait for his number to be called.

He looked at a seat stained with dubious substances and swallowed unhappily. The place reeked, awash with that low level smell of too many people in too small a space for too long. All it needed was a little bit of death and it would have been the stench of the old mansion, and that was a reminder he could do without.

He sat, staring as the red numbers on the screen slowly counted up closer to his own, working to focus on breathing, recalling the feeling of sunshine on his skin, of Jen curled up against him this morning. 

Anyone who saw him, who recognized him, knew his story. All of it. He found himself wishing he had brought Jen along. He could have told her he found a way to get a valid ID and gotten away with it, surely, instead of sitting here alone, tense and sweating because a complete stranger just woke all of his sleeping dragons.

The man at the counter had to call his number twice; he hadn’t heard it the first time, had been far too absorbed in his own thoughts.

“You’re here for a new ID?”

“I am,” he purred, adopting an air of casualness that he most certainly wasn’t feeling.

“I’ll need to see your documentation, please. Did you fill out the form?”

“Er, yes,” he said, handing the clipboard and all of his papers over.

The man flipped through these, looking at them much the way Astarion would look at any particular brick on the street - completely disinterested beyond ensuring its presence.

“Mr. Wilcox, you’re not wearing a costume, are you?”

He’d anticipated this, knew his appearance was going to be the one sticking point of this whole escapade.

“Of course not.”

The man raised his eyebrows, looking at his face doubtfully, lingering on his eyes and ears.

“I assure you, I am not. It’s a birth defect.”

“Like albinism?”

“Yes.”

He’d not the slightest what that was, but if the man thought that’s what he was staring at, then that’s what the man was staring at as far as Astarion was concerned.

“Never seen an albino.”

“Well, now you have.”

The man grunted and began sifting through papers, typing information into his computer. Gods, was everyone going to be judging him today? Absolutely everyone? Making him feel small and wrong and alone?

“Here’s your documents back. Follow me over to the camera, please.”

The fat little man got up and waddled his way over toward the side of the room. Astarion danced around rows of chairs and people staring to meet the man where he’d indicated and now stood waiting impatiently. Before he could even come to a stop, the man pointed at the floor behind him.

“Stand there. Look at the camera.”

He didn't like this man, not in the least. Rude, small, demanding… Not seeing him. Not viewing him as someone, but as something to be ordered about. Berated quietly into obedience.

Astarion shuffled into the little box marked on the worn carpet and looked up at the camera, clinging tightly to his mask and flashing his best smile into the lens.

“Sir, keep your face neutral please.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need you not to smile please.”

The camera flashed half way through rearranging his features to be ‘neutral.’

“I’m sorry,” he said, annoyed by his own simpering tone, “I wasn’t ready. Would you take it again?”

The man behind the counter stared at him, pointed against the backdrop, and waited. Just a little longer and he could go back outside, surely. He shook himself out, arranged his features appropriately before looking at the camera and then looked up.

It flashed again.

“Come over here and I’ll get your temporary ID printed for you,” the man droned. “You should be able to use this for everything except flying. You’ll need to wait until you get your ID in the mail to take any trips.”

“Yes, I’ll do just that,” he agreed unthinkingly before looking down at the photograph.

Astarion did a double take.

Was that him?

Seriously?

No. He’d seen himself just this morning and he most certainly looked far more fabulous than this flat-faced, featureless falsity. He looked back up, wanted to say something but was met with complete dismissal.

“Have a good day sir.”

Astarion didn’t respond, stomach churning in self-loathing at his inability to argue back, and turned to escape outside. Away. Not here in this dingy little horror show run by self-appointed paper-lords.

Outside, he let the morning sunshine soak into him, to chase the cold dread and the dark away. He slipped around the side of the building, hiding from the sight of the people coming and going, relieved to find a small concrete bench in a neglected patch of grass.

He sat still, letting it all flow back out of him, focusing on now. He was here. He was alive. He was free. He was safe. He was free.

He missed Tav. Sweet gods, he missed Tav. Even Jen, right now. He knew she’d sit with him, awkwardly trying to help even if she didn’t quite know how.

It took a little time, but eventually, Astarion felt he’d collected himself sufficiently once again. He sincerely hoped both that man and Katie would have a rotten day for all of this trouble.

Astarion hailed another carriage with Uber, remaining behind the drab little hell of a building until the little car icon was close. After apprehensively confirming the driver, he hopped in and waited for the other shoe to drop.

The driver said nothing, beyond wishing him good morning and confirming where he was headed. Astarion sat in blessed silence the entire ride, tipping the driver in cash afterward simply for not being Katie.

Outside a less depressing, but still somewhat intimidating building that was trying too hard to be friendly looking, Astarion brushed his slacks out and checked his turtleneck for errant cat hair. He took a deep, centering breath, pulled on a persona that seemed to fit the place, and strode into the bank.

“Good morning, sir!”

“Good morning,” he replied, taking in the well dressed man in the suit. Middle age. Hair starting to recede. But well groomed and attentive.

“How can we help you today?”

“I need to open an account.”

“Excellent! What type of account? Business or personal?”

“A personal account.”

“Joyce will be able to help you with that, if you’ll just follow me please.”

The manager, Rod, introduced him to Joyce and excused himself, leaving Astarion to sit across a large desk from a well dressed young woman.

“Good morning, Joyce,” he began, bracing himself against the possibility of another excruciating experience beginning to play out with him at the center of it.

“Good morning mister…”

“A- Wilcox. Weston.”

“Mr. Wilcox.” She smiled. “How can I help you?”

“I need to open a personal bank account.”

“I can help you with that today. Will it be checking or savings?”

Astarion hesitated. Please, no more of this. What the devil did it matter? He just wanted them to store and move this money of his around.

“If I’m going to be using it to send and receive funds, what would you recommend?”

“Checking account,” she replied. Astarion didn’t miss the tiny look of confusion she shot him, felt his pulse slow and his breathing cease, mind flying as it sought out the best path forward, the one with the least awful consequences.

“Thank you.” He lowered his voice, looked down. “I’ve only just escaped a bad situation, and I admit, I’m not the most knowledgeable.”

This seemed to answer the question she’d had but not asked. She gave him a little smile, asked no more about it, and continued typing.

“Alright, well, let’s get you set up with a checking account then. I’ll just need to see your ID please.”

Astarion presented the piece of paper he’d received from the DMV.

“And do you have proof of address and second form of ID?”

Astarion took his packet of documents out of his coat pocket and handed them over, watched as she leafed through them and began typing information into her computer, still waiting apprehensively for it all to go horribly awry.

“Alright, give me just a moment here… Will you be wanting to open a savings account, today, too?”

“Erm, should I?”

“Well, it can help you set money aside for larger purchases. It has a three point five percent interest rate on it, so you’ll earn some interest for keeping money in the account. And if your debit card should get stolen for any reason, it’ll separate the funds out. We have a zero liability policy for stolen cards, but it can still be a headache to deal with, so having funds in reserve can help offset that.”

Given his knowledge of just how easy it had been to steal countless cards, this seemed like a good idea. As for the interest, that was news to him. It was usually something you owed, not something you earned in his world.

“Yes. Let’s do that, then. This interest rate. Er, I get money just for having money?”

“You do! And so you know, there are no minimum balances or annual or monthly fees of any kind for either of these accounts. Did you have any cash or checks you’d like to deposit today?”

Astarion thought about this for a moment. He’d not anticipated actually putting physical money in the account, but he did have his cash with him. He split his cash and handed over a small stack of bills, watching the woman mark the larger ones with some kind of pen.

“Alright, your new balance will be fifteen hundred dollars. So you know, we have a mobile app that allows you to deposit checks and send money remotely online. This pamphlet here has the details. We have ATM machines all over the country that you can use as well. Give me just a little bit to finish setting everything up for you, Mr. Wilcox, and I’ll get your welcome packet for you.”

Astarion waited patiently, trying to ease the tension by glancing through the shiny little brochure she’d given him. Gods, this was far easier than he’d thought it would be. He expected some hitch in his plan -- there was always a hitch in the plan -- and had been debating the best way to win over a stubborn vault keeper, wondering if Jen would forgive him for seducing some poor, gullible stranger today.

But this? This was going alright.

“Alright, Mr. Wilcox, you’re all set. Is there an email address you’d like to keep on file with us? You can subscribe to paperless contact with one.”

Astarion recited the email he’d created for catfishing purposes and waited while Joyce went to retrieve a packet of papers she’d printed out for him.

“These are all of your account details. You’ll want to keep this account number secure. Your debit card should arrive in the mail in one to two weeks. You can order checks online if you need them. If you have any questions at all, please feel free to call or visit us at any time.”

“Wonderful,” he purred, uncomfortable at how servile his tone sounded. “I can start adding money today?”

“Sure can. Anything else I can help you with?”

“No, that’s all, my dear. Have a fantastic day.”

Astarion saw himself into the lobby, where he once again hailed an Uber, this time to take him to the salon. He’d need a good reason to have ventured out today after all, and gods below, did he need a bit of an escape.

Well. He smiled, thinking ahead to the evening. Nails first, then home to his adorable little mud mephit. It was such a ridiculous phrase strung together like that, but honestly, he liked it. It fit her.

While he waited for his ride, he added this bank account to the fraudulent fundraiser, initiating the first transfer of funds to it. He also spent some more time chatting up his cadre of marks, letting them know how his fake court case was going before thanking Evelynn Wilcox profusely for sending his documents along to him so quickly, lamenting the fact that his wife could not be bothered and reiterating not to contact her.

He could not wait to get home and tell Jen about the unbelievable heap of shit he’d put up with today. Relax together. Have some fun. Hold her close to keep all their nightmares at bay.

Notes:

I want to be 100% clear that idgaf what your personal opinion of AA's arc is. You do you! In this context, spawn Astarion who has known happiness in the century after the event, he would not react to the "AA is the only happy Astarion" argument very well. I do want to note that this is not the only time in the story that he's going to confront the idea of himself as the vampire ascendant, either.

In other news, I've been sick this week in a format that's prevented me getting much done, so next week will probably be a bit lighter on posting unless I get a hell of a lot of energy back over the weekend.

Chapter 34: Detective Jen

Summary:

Jen has spent the past week a bit frazzled to say the least, but she's finally managed to scrape herself together again. She's got questions and concerns.

34. Detective Jen

Jen’s critical thinking brain had finally started to resurface. She had spent a solid week of tumbling beneath the rapids of her inability to think of anything but seeing Astarion and being near Astarion and touching Astarion and getting systematically destroyed by Astarion, but at least one pair of brain cells had finally managed to crawl out of the primordial soup that man had turned her grey matter into.

She and Astarion both had been severely slacking on their search for Tav since New Year’s Eve. She wasn’t entirely sure whether she was distracting him or whether he was distracting himself with her, but the result had been the same.

Not only that, something was afoot with this mother fucker and she needed to figure out what before it inevitably became her problem. She'd still not entirely forgiven him for knocking on that car door over a month ago when they'd first met, leaving her standing on the sidewalk with the consequences of his actions.

Now, he had gone on a solo adventure yesterday for the very first time since he ran off into the night after the romance scene had blown up their acquaintance. After complaining very bitterly about the awful time he’d had with the driver and some customer service fellow, he was being very cagey about what he’d actually done. 

Where had he gone? Oh, nowhere important, darling.

Was he chatting with a Tav candidate? Jen wouldn’t get jealous. She knew that was the point still. No, he’d not found anyone worth meeting in person, not yet. Still looking, of course.

She could have driven him to the salon if that’s where he snuck out to. No need, my dear. Just took an Uber.

His nails did look freshly manicured again, at least, so that checked out.

But he’d done something more than gone to the salon and, notably, funded it himself. Even the Uber ride, which necessitated digital payment. This all meant that he’d either snatched someone’s card again recently or done something else new to enable himself to take an Uber.

She had no idea when he would have snatched a card given that they’d been all but literally joined at the hip for nearly a week, but the man did go out hunting at night, and there were technically opportunities within walking distance. For all she knew, he was hitting marks on the lake trail.

She really, really hoped that he wasn’t murdering joggers in the woods. Jen felt her unease grow until she felt an irresistible urge to check the local police Facebook pages to be sure there wasn’t a found body or missing person alert.

There weren’t.

This did not mean he hadn’t done anything though. He was no doubt skilled at both picking a mark and hiding a body.

“Hey, uh, Astarion.”

“Yes, my dear?”

She spun to watch as he typed something into his phone, some trash show playing on the monitor quietly.

“Where’d you get that Uber money yesterday?”

“I earned it.”

“Mmk, but you have to have a card to use Uber. So where’d you get a card?”

He looked up at her, meeting her eye and keeping his expression carefully neutral for a moment before grinning mischievously.

“If I tell you, darling, you’ll be implicated in it.”

Oh that was not at all reassuring.

“You’re not… murdering joggers in the woods, are you? You can’t just kill people here.”

He threw his head back and laughed, before resting sparkling eyes back on her.

“Well why not?”

“The police are pretty good at solving murders?”

“Ah, so you don’t have a moral objection to it.”

“I mean, I do, but if I were, say, someone who didn’t, then the police are why I wouldn’t,” she stated, pinning Astarion with a significant look.

“I’m not murdering people in the woods, darling,” he said, still grinning widely.

“Mugging them?”

“Oh no, not really my style.” He paused, watching her, still smiling infuriatingly. “Any more guesses?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and sighed.

“Not at the moment, I guess.”

They held each others’ gaze a moment longer before Jen spun back to her computer, eyes resting on the embroidered shark tooth beside her monitor.

“They do take gift cards, you know,” he added behind her.

Ah. Which meant that he procured a gift card somehow. Stealing more cash maybe? Or a wallet he immediately ditched?

“Thanks,” she muttered.

Well, one tiny mystery solved. About a zillion big ones to go. And it was probably best to focus on Tav, not whatever probably less than legal…

But where the hell was he getting gift cards? I mean, he had to be getting Amazon gift cards, too, at this point. Stuff just kept showing up in boxes. Every damn day he’d go out to check the mail right after it got here, sometimes not even bothering with sunscreen, but making a dash from the shade of the garage to the mailbox and back.

She’d not sent him more gift cards, and while Izzy and John had been generous with theirs, it wasn’t generous to the degree that it would have taken to fund what all had showed up this week, she didn’t think.

She scowled at her computer and sighed.

“So, uh, I take it you found some kind of work online then?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been checking the mail religiously and I know I didn’t get you any more Amazon gift cards so…”

“Ah,” he said. “That’s what this is about. Yes. I have found some odd jobs online, my dear.”

Jen thought about this for a moment, tried to consider what he’d potentially be doing to make cash with literally no experience.

“What like, fiverr or one of those task app things?”

“Oh, it’s mostly chatting with people.”

“So like, customer service?”

This did not seem like something he’d do at all. He probably could manage it, she supposed, but boy would he get fired if he ever forgot to mute a call. And she’d not heard him on the phone anyway, so maybe he could pull it off via text. But who wasn't using chat bots for that by now?

“Gods below, never.”

“Ok… explain it to me then?”

“I’m chatting with lonely people who just need a little socialization, darling.”

“Please tell me you don’t have an Only Fans.”

“A what?”

She snapped her jaw shut, kicking herself.

“Nevermind.”

“Only Fans,” he muttered, looking down at his phone.

“Astarion…”

“Yes, my dear?”

He burst out laughing before she could ask if he was googling it.

“Oh, no. I don’t have an Only Fans. That’s not really something I’d do. Well, not anymore.”

“I figured… I was just making sure. I mean, you could, no judgment.”

“Oh no. If I do anything of that sort, my dear, it’s entirely for my own pleasure. Well, and yours.”

He plastered her with a look that sent her IQ scurrying for cover as she shifted and crossed her knees and ankles for good measure. He grinned, knowing what he’d done and Jen could see his wheels turning as he examined her, his eyes already starting to undress her.

Yup. Subject change. Now. Before he threw a wrench in the brief episode of sanity she'd found this morning.

“So, uh, how’s progress on the Tav front?”

“Spoilsport,” he muttered with a frown.

“We’ve not gone out and looked in a while, that’s all.”

“I’ve been busy,” he grinned back. “In fact, we were both very busy last weekend.”

“Yes,” she managed to squeeze out, blushing furiously under his look. “I know. That’s why I’m bringing it up. Should probably refocus on the quest a bit. I figured maybe you’d been making progress online?”

“I’ve been trying to,” he sighed, dropping the playful tone. “But I feel like I’m going in circles. I swear, these apps keep showing me the same fifty people.”

Unsurprising.

She mirrored his sigh. Social media was essentially algorithm hell at this point. She assumed that included online dating sites. Perhaps he needed a fresh angle for this.

“Ok, well, if online is coming up bust, we can try going out again and looking for her.”

“I suppose so,” he said. Jen found herself getting annoyed.

“Astarion, you’re not going to find her unless you keep looking.”

“I’m aware,” he snapped.

“If you need help, you can tell me. Maybe I can sort through dating apps, too?”

“I’ve already told you, darling, I’ll know her when I see her. You won’t.”

It was such a frustrating damn line from him. How the hell was she supposed to help if he wouldn’t let her? Just provide a roof and food and let him loose to do whatever else? What else did she have to offer him at this point?

Besides a diversion. A distraction that he doesn’t need.

“This Saturday. We’re going out somewhere.”

“If you insist,” he said, eyeing her.

“I do. I’m trying to be helpful. Let’s get back out into a crowd and keep an eye out. Please? I’ll feel better if I’m doing something useful to help you.”

“Yes, alright,” he rolled his eyes.

She let the matter drop, turning back to her work, annoyed.

The hell was his attitude for? He should be out there, finding Tav, dragging Jen along all over the place until he did. Why did it feel like she was behind the wheel of this quest at the moment? He was being so damn testy about it again and-

Jen stopped.

Astarion was afraid.

He was afraid he wouldn’t find Tav. He had been here nearly a month now and was no closer than he had been when he stepped through that portal. All the things they’d thought would work kept turning up nothing.

And there were so many people. They could spend every minute of every day crowd watching someplace new and never see a fraction of them. Maybe that’s what he’d tried to do yesterday and he just didn’t want to admit it.

It would account for his mood by the time he made it home yesterday. He’d been in a state. All snark and very little sweetness to him, hadn’t even risen to the bait of some of her jests until well past the time they started the BG3 file up again.

Fear would account for all of it. He was stuck in a rut and he didn’t know how to get out of it.

Well, he might have been feeling the weight of fear at this point, but she wasn’t. He thought she wouldn’t recognize Tav, but he’d made it perfectly clear on that car ride up to Arkansas that he saw someone he thought looked like her. She’d not forgotten it, either; she just hadn’t followed up on it yet.

Now seemed like the perfect time to do so.

Jen opened a new browser tab and searched up an image of the voice actor who sang the female vocals for “I Want to Live.” She clicked through the results until she found a few images, studied them for a moment and thought about it.

Surely between the state of AI and facial recognition there had to be a way to search for people who looked similar from just a few photos alone?

Perhaps that would allow them to narrow the search, to go full stalker mode potentially, do some kind of private eye type stuff.

Jen leaned back in her chair, thinking about this.

Could you hire a PI for something like this specifically? To just put together a list of names of everyone in the state who looked similar and had a birthday within about a two year window?

She wasn’t sure on any of these counts yet, so she broke out her Google-fu.

Unsurprisingly, there were indeed websites that would take images of someone and spit out potential matches it found by crawling through their database of images. That meant that, yeah, this actually could be a new angle. And if Astarion wasn’t going to work with her on this, at least she could pull at this thread, see if it unraveled anything.

Jen returned to her work for the time being, stashing the tabs in a second window in the background, waiting until the elf decided it was time for his afternoon catnap in the sun, which he had one hundred percent started to do in the nude after they’d gotten intimate. There was no convincing him otherwise at this point, not with the privacy fence and not when he enjoyed flaunting the effect he had on her.

When Astarion sauntered outside to sunbathe, making sure to pose naked in the door to inform her of this plan first, Jen wrestled the gremlin into its cage and pulled her Tav tabs back up. She took a screen capture of a photograph from the Instagram page and uploaded it into the website, waiting to see what it would turn up.

She was a bit shocked to find it turned up hundreds of images of the exact same woman, and a handful of others.

Ok, well, that was impressive and scary, but only moderately helpful. She actually wanted those near misses in this case. She spun the mouse wheel, glancing briefly through images until she found one that was almost certainly not the same woman. She took a screencap of this one and plugged it in next, which produced very similar results.

There were fewer hits this time; most were obviously the same woman as the new screencap but a small number weren’t.

Fucking hell, where were they getting these photos from? This whole thing was a bit concerning, actually. But it was also exactly what she needed at the moment to help potentially direct his search. If they lived in a surveillance state like this, she might as well make use of it for her own advantage, too.

It seemed that all she could see without paying were faces, which was less than helpful. Jen looked at the pricing on the site, wasn’t wild about supporting this kind of thing, but if throwing thirty bucks at it could get Astarion out of the rut he’d stumbled into, it was worth it. She selected the mid tier plan, figuring that while she wouldn’t do more than a dozen or so of these a day between work and everything else, being able to specify additional filters could be handy. Especially location.

Jen repeated the process, added a location filter, let the search run while she responded to some emails, and then came back to click through the results.

She felt her face breaking into a pleased grin.

Well, it looked like this just might be a new and more targeted way to do this after all. She repeated the process in several more windows with some of the near miss faces and by the time she heard the back door cracking open, she had at least one in a relatively local area, including one who was publicly posting about her job on her insta.

It seemed that this one worked at Cavender’s down by the Stockyards, so to the Stockyards they would go this weekend. She didn’t need to tell Astarion the whole in depth plan just yet, and would rather see if he noticed the woman on his own to confirm the viability of future searches, but this had some serious potential.

She’d hope the woman worked that day, drag his ass in there, and see what happened next. And at that point, they’d be in a tourist area anyway, so he shouldn’t be any the wiser that she’d started trying to target specific individuals based on looks like this.

Good. They needed to get back out of the house anyway. She desperately needed to try to fasten her damn head on straight again. Muscle groups she didn’t even know existed were sore and she just could not do a damn thing but melt into a puddle at the first press of his lips on the back of her neck, something he’d started initiating with constantly.

Maybe questing with him would get them back into the swing of it. Maybe it was Astarion adjacent enough to shift her brain back into a respectable state instead of the faulty gremlin containment apparatus it had become. They’d have fun going out and seeing more places together either way. 

And then?

Jen could be the one to reunite him with Tav. She could be there to see the irrepressible joy suffuse his face. To watch him come alive with excitement and accomplishment and belonging. She could give him the one thing he wanted more than anything else. 

And then she’d be someone he’d look back fondly on instead of one of so, so many shadows of the past. That would make all this trouble worth it, wouldn't it?

Gods, hopefully Tav wasn’t entangled in a life of her own.

Maybe she will be though. What then?

Don’t, she warned herself.

She would give him Tav.

And then he’d leave.

Jen closed her eyes and swallowed. She’d deal with that when it came to it. Hopefully Tav was not the jealous type. Getting murdered didn’t seem like it would be as much fun if it wasn’t Astarion doing it.

Find Tav first. Everything, and she meant everything, else second.

Notes:

We'll be picking up on the Quest for Tav again in the next few chapters, letting the pair go out and have some 'non-fun' fun together.

If I write myself back far enough ahead (I like to stay four chapters ahead of what's posted as a rule for situations like getting sick), I'll get the next chapter up this week, too. I'm really hoping I do because I enjoy the ones where they're out and about together, which the next one will be.

Chapter 35: Darn Tootin'

Summary:

Astarion and Jen head out someplace new to look for Tav.

35. Darn Tootin'

“So where did you say we’re going, darling?”

“Stockyards. Over in Fort Worth. Tourist shopping area, very Texas vibes.”

“What does ‘Texas vibes’ mean, exactly, my dear?”

“Cowboys, boots, hats, wild west, cow hide rugs, barbeque brisket, things like that. They’ve even got a famous herd of longhorns there, and I better not catch you drinking one of them.”

“Oh, then I’ll have to be subtle about it,” he replied, grinning.

Dragging him off on this quest again was filling her with a strange sense of both sadness and anticipation. She knew the odds of the first person she chose to investigate being Tav were astronomically low, but that didn’t stop the irrational fear that it would happen.

And the fear that it would happen bothered her. Besides facing her fears this year, it bothered her tremendously that she was afraid of it because this quest was the whole reason Astarion was here. She knew that when she had chosen to finally let him the rest of the way in, and she was finding her worst fears to be not nearly as irrational as she had hoped they might turn out to be.

This whole day trip was her idea, but she was already unsettled by it. She wanted this new strategy to work. She wanted the woman at Cavender’s to immediately catch his eye. She wanted her proof of concept to be an enormous success.

She wanted a happy Astarion reunited with Tav.

But she didn’t want him to go.

She didn’t want to be left alone again. She didn’t want to lose his laugh and his prattling on about whatever nonsense he was watching. The way he held her just right when the pain was splitting her skull in two. The weird intimacy of keeping him happy and healthy with her blood and the actual intimacy they’d come to develop with each other, emotionally and now physically, too.

If it had just been sex, she’d probably have managed, but it wasn’t. It never was and it never would be and she’d known this and still jumped off the deep end with him.

Gods, but what a rush it was! How silly and lighthearted she felt on days when they just laid around in robes working, watching shows, playing through act one, cuddling flesh to flesh. How desperately alive and seen she felt on nights they spent twined together in pleasure, laying crossways across the bed in the curves of each others’ bodies afterward.

All of this was going to end.

Jen knew it before it started, and had decided to leap before she had a strategy to survive it. She was no closer to finding one and she could sense the ground approaching swiftly. She needed this mystery woman, this Schrödinger’s Tav, to resolve into both possibilities somehow instead of collapsing into Tav or not Tav. She needed time to figure out what to do, time to prepare.

But equally as much, she needed Astarion to succeed on his quest. He deserved to succeed, to have Tav back.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Yep,” she chirped back.

“You’re very still. Usually you’re more animated. Fidgety.”

“Just thinking. In a mood today.”

“It’s not your migraines, is it? We can go back.”

She smiled. He was nothing if not protectively vigilant, now more than ever.

“No, not that. I’m fine, really.” She paused, wanted to try to get him to focus on the quest, not her state of existence. “I’m guessing you’ll want to shop? They’ve got a history museum and some good food around but I don’t really take you for the museum type, and clearly food is a no go.”

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” she said, turning to look at him. He was studying her closely. She turned the question back on him. “You? Are you ok? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I do want to. Just not if you don’t.”

They stared at each other for a moment. They were talking around the truth and both of them had figured that much out.

“I’m just apprehensive,” she admitted. “I want you to find Tav, but there’s part of me that doesn’t want it to happen today - please don’t hate me for saying that.” She had stumbled into the second half of the sentence, frantically hedging against the reaction she feared.

Jen risked a nervous glance at him, expecting to see anger or at the very least disapproval in his face. His amusement relaxed her, though, as he grinned over at her.

“Understandable,” he replied. But then he looked away, face falling. “Besides, we’re not likely to anyway.”

Heavy silence filled the car. She waited to see if he would elaborate, but he didn’t. Jen decided to risk it, speaking up softly.

“I completely understand if you’re afraid you won’t find her. I would be, too.”

He looked at her, tipping his head in thoughtfulness.

“Am I?”

Jen shrugged.

“I can’t tell you that, but it seems like it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying having you to myself at the moment, but I don’t want you to lose sight of Tav.”

“I could never lose sight of Tav, darling.”

“Ok. Just checking in on you.”

“Thank you, my dear. I suppose I have been frustrated.” He stopped speaking for a moment before continuing. “And perhaps a bit distracted.”

He grinned at her, beckoning all the blood in her body straight into her cheeks.

Maybe that’s why vampires were seductive. Maybe it was all a matter of blood flow. She cleared her throat, chasing the thought away, as Astarion changed the subject.

“So, shopping today, you said? Well, it's a good thing I brought my cash. What kind of shopping?”

“Not one hundred percent sure beyond tourist crap and western wear. Don’t ask me what constitutes that. Google it. Boots and belts and denim and beyond that I don’t know. They do have a loose leaf tea and spice shop I want to stop in, though.”

“You fancy tea like I fancy wine,” he said.

She shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. As far as vices went, anyway, it was a pretty harmless one. They trailed back into a more comfortable silence, punctuated with the occasional frustrated outburst as Jen found herself continually shocked at the boundless stupidity on display on the highways.

As they drew closer, Jen debated where to start. Would it be best to head straight into Cavender’s? Or was that better left to later?

No. Has to be first. Rip the bandaid off.

She reluctantly agreed with herself, and opted to park close to the north end of the Stockyards so that it would be the first thing they wandered past, and thus likely into.

Astarion was over dressed for the area, having opted for his turtleneck and slacks again, and he stood out amongst all the denim and fringe. It was by no means a bad thing, but Jen found herself wondering if she could maybe tug him into something a little more casual. Sharp casual or something. Or maybe a little more Texas.

As they approached Cavender’s, her eyes fell on a light brown garment in the window and the idea of dressing him down just a little fused with the desire to get him into the store. Not to mention, whatever that was, it would look really good on him. Jen stared at it, trying to puzzle out what she was seeing. It looked to be made of some kind of leather, but it was cut like a blazer, something she’d not had any clue existed until just now.

“Huh,” she said out loud.

“What’s that, darling?”

“I don’t know what that is, but you’d look good in it.”

This statement piqued Astarion’s curiosity, as she had expected it would, and he approached the window, eyeing the leather garment on the mannequin. Jen wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but he was clearly weighing the idea up against his impeccable standards.

Finally, he looked back at her, somewhat surprised.

“You know, I think you may be right,” he said. “Shall we go in and take a look?”

Jen felt the grin take her features over, and twisted it from a grin of triumph to a grin of smitten pleasure, which was not a hard look to pull on around him these days.

“Sure.”

They entered Cavender’s together, and before they’d gone more than a step or two, she heard Astarion’s hushed gasp.

She knew what that meant.

She knew the mystery woman was working today and she knew he’d just seen her. Jen struggled to keep a lid on her heart rate as she turned to follow his gaze. Astarion had frozen in the entry way and Jen nudged him.

“Hey, we’re blocking the door.”

“That woman over there,” he whispered down to her, moving again, “do you see her?”

Jen swallowed.

“I do.”

“She looks like Tav.”

“Does she?”

“Yes,” he hissed excitedly.

Jen was exceptionally glad that he was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t have the wherewithal to be suspicious of her clipped responses or elevated heart rate.

“Ok, well, then you’ve got to find a way to talk to her I guess,” she asked back, keeping her voice quiet to match his. “The jacket, maybe?”

He nodded, quietly, and Jen watched him draw himself up in preparation to approach this stranger. She felt a little tug in her chest at the adorableness of it before he spoke distractedly.

“I’ll be right back, darling. I’ll let you know if I need you!”

Jen nodded as Astarion sauntered over toward the woman. She couldn’t help but appraise her, take in her put together look, her bearing, shoulders back and chest up, like she’d brook no nonsense. Jen stepped back into the aisle of boots to her right, heart thumping in her chest as the woman saw Astarion approach, looked up at him with definite interest, and engaged with him in conversation.

Jen picked up a boot, stared down at it a moment, traced the decorative stitching, and put it back, looking up again as she swallowed a flash of pain at seeing that glorious smile of his fastened on someone else for the moment.

Well this is a new kind of hell.

She picked up another boot with a sigh, trying to watch and not watch all at the same time as they walked across the store toward racks of clothing.

Jen trailed after them, not wanting to get too close, but not wanting to lose sight of him in case he motioned her over.

She continued watching as the women pointed to a few different garments, smiling and nodding as he selected one and shrugged it on. Jen’s heart stopped as Astarion looked around, looking for her. She smiled nervously as he gave her a small wave and a head motion to beckon her over.

“Well, darling,” he said, grinning at her and presenting himself as she approached. “What do you think?”

Jen stood silently for a moment, shaking herself out mentally as she processed his question. It hadn’t been the string of words she was expecting, so she took a moment.

“I think that looks really damn good on you,” she said. The woman beside them laughed.

“Told you she would.”

Astarion smiled, chin up, pleased with the find.

“Need a picture of it on you,” Jen asked him, remembering the clothes shopping drill finally.

“If you like it, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Jen blew the air in her lungs out between her lips.

“I don’t know about that. That’s an awful lot of trust in someone who has zero fashion sense.”

“Well,” he replied, “Maria here also assures me it looks great. And I dare say she’s more knowledgeable."

“What is it,” Jen asked. Maria answered.

“It’s a lambskin blazer. Nice soft leather, but durable enough for everyday wear.”

“I’ll take it,” Astarion announced. “Shall we?”

He indicated in the direction of the registers and both Jen and Maria started over toward them.

“Thanks for the help,” Jen told her. “Not my forte.”

Maria laughed.

“No problem at all. It’s my job.”

Astarion took the garment off, handing it over so that Maria could ring it up and remove the security tag from it.

“With tax, that’s three hundred eighty nine dollars and fifty-three cents. Would you like a bag for it or are you going to wear it out today?”

Jen tried to hide her sticker shock.

Fucking how much?

“Oh I’ll wear it out today,” said Astarion, pulling hundred dollar bills out of his pocket.

Not for the first time, Jen found herself wondering where the hell he was getting what felt like an endless supply of cash. She watched Maria check the bills with a pen, making sure they weren’t counterfeit, before she counted the change back to him.

They were apparently real enough, so Jen could mark secret counterfeiting press off the list of suspicions.

“Thank you, my dear. Have a wonderful birthday next month.”

“Thank you! Come back and see us again! I can help you with boots and a belt buckle next time.”

Astarion turned to Jen and smiled, but she could see disappointment hidden behind it, knew it meant that this woman wasn’t Tav. She sighed and walked out onto the brick street beside him.

“Not her?”

“No,” he said, shoulders slumping as he sighed with her. “But another near miss!”

Jen reached over, grabbed his hand, squeezed it briefly, and let go again.

“We’ll find her.”

He smiled down at her, took her hand back, and gave her a little tug.

“Where to next, my dear?”

“Tea, I guess,” she replied, looking down at their hands for a moment. She’d let him keep hold of it if it helped, and it had seemed to.

They crossed the street and headed into the covered shopping area, a large wood and concrete building that used to be livestock pens, but now contained shops and attractions. Jen knew the shop she was looking for was in here somewhere, and they walked along quietly.

Neither of them was feeling particularly energetic at the moment, it seemed. Obviously the rush of emotion and the following let down accounted for Astarion, but she was surprised that it seemed to account for her, too.

She’d have thought she’d be secretly pleased at the result, but she wasn’t. She was sad for him all over again, wished things had gone better for his sake.

She felt a tug on her hand and snapped out of her thoughts as Astarion pulled her over toward a door, letting go of her hand to open it.

“This must be the place.”

“It is,” she confirmed with a smile, as the scent of dozens of fresh herbs and spices wafted out.

“Alright, let’s get you some tea, then, darling.”

She watched as he strode right up to the lone attendant like he owned the whole of the stockyards, shaking her head at his immediate change in demeanor.

Jen walked over to browse through the oolongs. If she was going to splurge on something, she generally went with a high quality oolong. They went well with everything and even resteeped nicely, something most teas absolutely did not do. Many considered resteeping to be absolute blasphemy, and she tended to agree, with the exception of a nice, high quality oolong. She examined various containers, popping the lids off the samples to smell them, keeping an eye on Astarion as he wandered the store, small basket in hand, chatting with the attendant.

They worked their way around as Jen continued to scrutinize her oolong options until Astarion stood beside her again.

“I’ve found you some more tea, darling. Miss Cindy says that this one with the valerian and cardamom is good for your sleep.” He shifted a bag from one side of his basket to the other, displaying the next option. “And this one is an oolong blend with cinnamon, ginger, clove, and some other delicious spices. It reminded me of your campfire, and it’s apparently a fan favorite.”

Jen glanced at the basket full of huge bags of tea, then back up at Astarion as he continued on.

“I’ve got lots of bergamot tea - you drink that all the time. They have a few varieties so I got one of each. And I know turmeric ginger helps your migraines, so I’ve got some of that here for you, as well.”

“But I already have a turmeric ginger at home,” she interrupted, clinging to the single small bag of Taiwanese oolong she’d selected. Cindy slid away from them, sensing trouble and retreating to help another shopper for the moment.

“This one is better,” Astarion stated.

“And expensive.”

He waved her off.

“I’ll buy it for you, then, since you don’t know how to treat yourself.”

Jen took offense to this. She did treat herself. She was allowed three bubble tea days in a week and every one was a treat.

“Ok, but that is a lot of tea. This place isn’t cheap, Astarion.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’re not paying for any of it.”

He took the bag of oolong out of her hands, put it back on the shelf, and placed a larger bag of the same tea in the basket. Jen sputtered in protest.

“Don’t spend your quest cash on me. I’m sure there are plenty of things you’ll need it for.”

“Such as making sure my co-conspirator is healthy? Yes. I know.” He had his nose up in the air, letting her know that she was not going to be able to dissuade him.

“You really don’t have to buy things for me Astarion.”

“Stop complaining and take the tea, darling.”

Jen looked at him and then at the tea. So much tea. It was really good tea. And it’s not like she wouldn’t use all of it. Man, maybe she’d crack out that neglected cast iron set for this stuff. Get hella fancy.

“I guess.”

Astarion deposited his selection of teas he’d chosen to help with her various conditions on the counter, chatting away about his fabulous choices with Cindy. He paid for this with cash pulled straight out of his pocket again, Jen noted, before he turned to hand the huge paper bag to her.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it shyly and looking down into an unfathomable hoard of tea. It felt weird to have stuff bought for her for no good reason. Early birthday present, maybe. If she thought of it like that it wasn’t as weird.

They walked out of the store together, strolling down the brick street beneath the old vaulted ceiling. Astarion eyed the shop windows, mostly disinterested, but Jen decided to detour into a leather store. If Astarion was going to be keeping that much cash, she figured it might be a good spot to get him an actual wallet.

She browsed around, flipping some options open, trying to color match his new lambskin blazer by look while he reached up and touched the horns on a cow skull with a grin, before wandering over to several tables full of hides.

Jen settled on a sleek little wallet and walked over to join him at the tables.

“You could use a wallet,” she said, sliding it over to him. “Keep all that cash you’ve got in it like a civilized person.”

He huffed at her, but picked it up, flipped it open, held it against his jacket, and then pocketed it.

“Astarion…”

“Alright, fine. I’ll pay for the thing.”

“You weren’t even subtle. You did that to annoy me.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning down at her, running a hand over the cow hide in front of them. His grin turned darker all the sudden as his eyes lit up. He dropped his gaze, fingers playing along the pattern in the hide.

“Do you think this is the one I ate on our camping trip?”

Jen covered her mouth and snorted at the thought.

“No clue. Did it look like that?”

“It did. Rust speckles and splotches. Kicked like a thing possessed… at first. Then it just… surrendered.” He shot her a side eye that she avoided meeting; she knew that damn look. “We could spread this on the floor of the living room, darling.”

He leaned in.

“Spread you out on top of it, perhaps…”

He let the phrase trail off as Jen swallowed her heartbeat and whapped the skull gremlin over the head with a stick. She looked up sideways at Astarion, narrowing her eyes as she considered something.

“Only if you wear a cowboy hat.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“A hat.”

She giggled.

“What is it with you and hats?”

“Well,” she asked. “Do you want to fuck one conquest on the skin of another or not?”

His abrupt stillness and silence made her suddenly terrified that she’d taken it a step too far, until she looked at his face.

Holy hell. Was he blushing?

“Are you blushing,” she hissed, voice hushed with excitement. He stared down at her, seemed to be contemplating this very thing himself before she saw him attempt to reassemble his composure. “Ok, screw the hat. Buy the rug.”

She high-fived the skull gremlin, who was hooting in victory, as Astarion took the hide off the stack without another word and brought it over to the cashier. She was going to pay for this later, she knew, and it was so unbelievably worth it. She looked at the rug, thinking ahead, and walked up next to him.

“What’s the best way to clean one of these,” she asked the cashier loudly, keeping her voice casual.

Astarion’s ear tips flushed red and Jen fought not to break out into delighted laughter at the sight as the woman gave her a little slip of care information that included cleaning tips. As soon as they were out of the store, rolled up cowhide rug slung over his shoulder, Astarion leaned down to her, and dropped his voice to his most tantalizing tone.

“The things I’m going to do with you on this rug, darling, they’ll make an incubus blush.”

It was her turn to flush red. He didn’t leave it there, either, moaning the next words as though they already had their hands and mouths all over each other.

“Oh yes. Listen to that little heartbeat pulsing hard and fast for me already. Mmm. I can taste you in the air, and it tastes like surrender.”

“I have to drive us home first, jerk,” Jen squeaked, shoving him sideays as Astarion caught his balance and broke into laughter. She shot him a dirty look.

“You started it,” he pouted playfully.

“I did not! You did!”

“Oh,” he said, recalling that he had. “I did start it, didn’t I? Well, I’ll finish it, too.”

Jen rolled her eyes and shook her head, stupid smile plastered on her face as they made their way back to the car. Neither had mentioned this course of action out loud. Both had correctly deduced that it was a given that they’d be heading home next.

It took some doing to figure out how to best get the rug in her little hatchback, but they managed it with some maneuvering and seat folding.

Jen debated telling him about the success of the Tav scheme on the way home, but found that she preferred to keep up the verbal sparring instead. She’d bring her plot up after they’d had a bit of alone time together, first. He was always so much more lively afterward and she'd take as much of him as she could get currently, in every sense of the damn phrase.

Notes:

Did you guys know that once you hit a certain amount of pages in a Google doc, the default Samsung keyboard just refuses to participate any longer? Made it a bitch to edit on the go for a while. Download a different keyboard to fix it, in case you're wondering how to get around it. 🙃

In other news, we're back on track chapters wise. Two notes of particular interest: a) I've got the scene in which the pair discovers Tav mostly written and b) there is more smut between us and it.

I've really enjoyed reading all the theories and guesses about Tav in the comments so far and as much as I want to jump in and get excited with y'all, I've been avoiding it so as not to accidentally spoil anything. The reveal is approaching and I anticipate it being very rewarding, but also making it incredibly, brutally obvious where the hitch in this whole plan of Astarion's was from the outset. That's all for now.

Eeeeeeeeeeee!

Chapter 36: Sharing the Plot

Summary:

Jen muses over the success and failures of the day before letting Astarion in on the secret.

36. Sharing the Plot

Jen lay on the floor, ignoring the judgy look that she was getting from Eva, who cleaned herself up on the cat shelves as though merely being in the same room had made her filthy. Did Astarion just make this shit up as he went? Did he keep a mental checklist of unspeakable things he wanted to do to people the way other people kept bucket lists?

Did it really matter?

No.

No, it really didn’t. Results were results.

Astarion stood in front of the TV, phone clasped in its holder, robe tied loosely around himself as he fixed his curls back into place. She was a fan of the messy curls look, but he was decidedly not. Besides, it meant she got to just look at him for a bit.

Jen watched him preening, always amused at how intently he focused on himself. The mysteries of an involved skin and hair care routine were no less comprehensible now than they had been back in December. He’d pick a tube up, consider it, put it back, look at himself, think, choose another one.

She’d tried to parse out the pattern to his selections but had long since given up.

It was still a good show, though, even if it baffled her.

Her mind began to drift back to the Stockyards and Cavender’s as she idly watched him, and she began wondering the best way to discuss the events of the morning with him. She was most specifically concerned with how he’d take the fact that his random Tav sighting hadn’t been random at all.

Maybe she should just wait until it worked once again. Maybe this first time was a fluke. A single point wasn’t a pattern, yet, so maybe if she collected some more data…

You know better.

She did. She just didn’t want to tell him.

And why is that?

Because it would take him that much closer to leaving her.

Gods fucking damn it.

That was the point of him being here. The whole point. Her teeth ground together and her nostrils flared as she started to get angry at herself again.

If this was how she was going to act, then she should never have caved on New Year’s.

But I didn’t know it’d make me like this!

Any reasonable adult would have figured out that this was very likely to happen, that she’d be jealous of Tav once she had this man in her arms.

But I’m not jealous of Tav. I just don’t want to be alone.

She sighed, finding that even the scathing internal critic didn’t see a lie in that statement. Maybe they could stay a while after he found Tav?

Shit, was Tav 2.0 just going to know it was her after Jen told her for him? Or was this something he was going to have to work on. Was he going to have to woo her? Date? Try to steal her away from whatever she had going here?

Jen thought about this for a moment.

In theoretical Tav’s place, she’d not have left two years ago. She’d have been flattered, but Astarion just turning up and immediately trying to convince her of this whole thing would have made her think either herself or him mad. If he played it well, she could see having chosen to remain close to him, being friends and all, but she’d not have left Jeremy for him, and if he’d tried to wrest her away, she would have gotten pissed and cut him off.

Astarion was going to need to be very careful when he found this woman if she was already spoken for.

The other possibility, however, was finding someone more akin to current state Jen, and that was different.

Current state Jen would have been shocked, considered it, given it a try, and simply gone with him.

The last step of this struck her as strange, suddenly, and she couldn’t recall if he’d actually informed her of what he planned to do once he found Tav and convinced her of the truth. She was the one assuming that they were going to leave together.

Maybe he was stuck here now, with Tav, for better or for worse. Perhaps she wouldn’t lose all of him. Perhaps he’d stick around the area and they could still hang out, be friends. Then she could keep him, too, at least in part.

Yeah, assuming Tav is ok with any of that given your current state of affairs with her soul mate.

There was that little detail, but Astarion would know how to handle that, surely. Finding Tav was quite likely merely the first step in what would probably be a multi-step process one way or another.

Jen looked up thoughtfully, considering this, and noticed that Astarion was watching her. She pulled herself out of the recesses of her skull and focused on him.

“What’s going through that head of yours,” he asked.

“Just thinking.”

“What about,” he drawled, slipping across the cow hide rug to sit beside her on the sofa. His face told her that he knew she was working something out.

“Your encounter earlier.”

“Ah. I could tell it must have been something serious from your scrunched up little face. And what about it?”

Jen took a breath, held it a moment, feeling it stretch her lungs, then let it go.

“Have you thought about what happens after you find Tav?”

“Of course, darling. All the time.”

“And what does that look like to you? I mean, if that woman today had been Tav, what was our next step?”

“I suppose once I figured it out, we’d have to convince her.”

“Would you have just nudged me into telling her? Right away? Not knowing anything else about her life?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, if you’d come to me when I was with Jer, I certainly wouldn’t have left him for you. But if you’d come to me like a week ago, it wouldn’t have been a problem. It just seems like you might want to gather some more information before making the next step, whatever that is.”

“So you think it may not be best to tell her right away?”

“I don’t really know, but you’re almost certainly going to come across as a crazy person to anyone who has no clue who you are, and probably even to people who do.”

“I have considered that,” he ceded. “Once I knew it was her, I’d probably have to get to know her better. If she was single, of course I’d woo her. If she was taken and miserable, I’d free her. If she was taken and happy, well, I suppose I don’t know.”

Jen did not like the sorrowful look that began forming on his face as he considered the possibility. She hurried on to the question that bothered her the most.

“Ok, so that all goes well, and she’s realized you’re not crazy. She’s available and willing, y’all get back together. Then what?”

“Ah,” he said, catching the question behind the words. “What will we do once reunited?”

“Yeah.”

Jen watched as walked over to the TV console and fished out a rolled up parchment.

“This should get me back home.”

“Home?”

“To Baldur’s Gate.”

Her heart sank.

He’s going to leave.

“Oh. What does it do?”

“Opens a portal to the city. I’ve only got the one.”

“Does it work? With the whole no magic thing?”

Astarion sighed deeply.

“I don’t know. And I’m not going to try until I’ve found her. But I am hopeful. This scroll is from Baba Yaga, after all, and she’s able to traverse the planes somehow. Her magic did bring me here.”

Maybe he would take you with?

Stop.

“If it doesn’t work?”

“Then I suppose we’d figure it out.”

“Ok. So find Tav is step one. Figure out what she’s got going on is step two. Woo her is step three. Go home is step four.”

“More or less.”

Jen bit back all the selfish new questions bubbling up. Could she go with. What would Tav and Astarion do after heading home. Were they looking for a friend and some cats. Maybe Tav would like having someone who remembered her ‘other realm’ along with her. Maybe Tav wouldn’t want to go.

Maybe you should stop thinking about this and tell him what you did.

“I’ve got something new that might help you find her,” she blurted out.

Astarion fixed her with a curious stare, a flicker of suspicion playing behind his eyes.

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t just random that we ran into that woman in Cavender’s,” she said, “I knew she’d be there and wanted to get you near her to see what would happen.”

“You what?”

He’d gone still, examining her, looking for the truth. She sat patiently, holding his gaze while he came to his conclusion.

“But you don’t know what she looks like, my dear.”

“I do know. You told me on the way to Arkansas. I very distinctly recall you being excited for a hot minute about Alfira’s voice actress, so I looked her up.”

“Ah,” he said, leaning back. “Very resourceful, aren’t you?”

Jen shrugged.

“Problem solving is kind of my wheelhouse. To that end, I think I have a new way to narrow your search. I figured something out this week but I wanted to try it first to see if it worked at least once before diving into the details with you.”

“You found a way to determine that someone who looks like Tav was going to be there?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

Jen grinned at the mixture of excitement and admiration in his voice. And the sudden spark of hope she saw flare to life within him.

“A little tech wizardry.”

“Well don’t keep me in the dark, darling,” he chided, rushing through the sentence, placing a hand on her knee, waiting for her to speak. “What did you do?”

She grinned at him.

“So it turns out there’s software online that you can use to search images of people, finding other images that are the same person. Finding more pictures of the same person obviously isn’t super helpful if you know the photo you put in isn’t Tav, but you also get some false positives, some faces that aren’t the same person, but look pretty damn close.

“In this case, that’s what we want. You can kind of daisy chain these together with some other search terms like location and come up with a short list of people who look like Tav and are in a specific spot, like Texas.”

She stopped talking and watched as he absorbed this news.

“I can show you how it works. I don’t know that they take gift cards or however you’ve been paying for things, but I did start an account since it’s a service you have to pay for. You can take it over to search.”

“Show me now,” he said, standing. She tugged him back to the couch by the back of his robe.

“Sit. We can do it on the phone.”

Jen loaded the website she’d used to locate Maria from Cavender’s and then showed him a few of the other searches that she’d run alongside it. He took the phone from her hand and scrolled through images, eyes lingering on one here or there for a breath longer than others.

“So to keep doing this, I would simply pick another of these women and search that picture once more?”

“Basically, yes. Or if you find any other pictures from social media or searching the web, or anywhere, really.”

He sat still, shifted his weight, scrolled to the end of the current results, and then grinned at her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, my dear!”

Jen felt her heart lurch at his words, and she looked over at him, face melting into a smile as she saw the excitement rekindled in his eyes.

“These are more Tav candidates together in one place than I’d found all by myself in the weeks until now.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, catching his excitement now, resisting the urge to sing it at him Disney character style.

“I was thinking, you can spend some time assembling a list of more candidates this week, figure out who’s where, and if anyone is close or you figure out where any of them will be, we can check it out again like we did today.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, staring into the empty space between the sofa and the TV, stroking his chin. “I like that plan. You’d make a fantastic con artist, darling.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment coming from you.”

He grinned at her.

“Don’t be so sour. You know you would.”

“You know that part of what I do is preventing con artists from getting into my employer’s shit, right?”

“No. But I do now.” He paused and furrowed his brow. “Is that something that happens often?”

“Like, to us or in general?”

“Either.”

“In general, all the fucking time. Users are stupid and click fishy links and then people like me have to roll a bunch of shit back and figure out who did it so we can get all our shit back.”

“So you can ‘get all your shit back?’”

“They lock down the whole system. Ransom it back for money.”

“Oh. I suppose they ask for quite a lot of money?”

She snorted.

“More than I make in a decade, at least.”

“You live in a strange world, my dear,” he said. “Ransoming people is something I am familiar with. Ransoming access? Seems quite odd.”

“Well, so much of what we all do is computer based these days. Plus, they’ve started ransoming your crap and blackmailing you at the same time now, especially if there’s any kind of sensitive info they get a hold of.”

“Not unlike those patriar files we stole from the bank vaults,” he mused. “Hm.”

Jen looked at him, suddenly struck by how interested he was in this topic. She supposed as a rogue all heists were a matter of professional interest to him, but she began to wonder if his inquiry wasn’t a bit more pointed than that. Perhaps she could lay a trap for him in this conversation.

“If you want any more details, I’d be happy to elaborate.”

He waved her off.

“Oh no, it would go quite over my head. Only simple, honest cons for me, darling.”

“Mmhm.”

They stared at each other and Jen had a strong hunch that she'd figured out where he was at least getting all those gift cards. She was going to have to start keeping a closer eye on exactly what he was spending his ‘work hours’ doing.

“Darling,” he purred, scooting closer, “I was thinking we could turn in early tonight.”

Oh yeah.

That made her completely sure.

It had only taken a little longer than the re-evolution of her brain cells to notice that the second she bumped into something he didn’t want to talk about, he turned the subject to sex and the charm to eleven. Even more infuriatingly, it had been working.

And she was going to let it work again because she liked having it as a tell for now, certainly until she figured out what illegal nonsense he’d gotten himself into this time. It also helped that she knew how to trigger fun times without having to outright ask for fun times.

“I suppose,” she said. “Let me heat up food and we can watch something together.”

“Hmm. Speaking of meal time, are you feeling more ‘sips and snuggles’ or ‘feasting and fucking’ tonight? I’m fine with either, naturally.”

Jen blanched at him, coloring.

“You can’t want more already.”

Astarion pressed himself against her side, drawing a hand up her back and leaning toward her neck. Jen leapt to her feet.

“Dinner first! Dinner damn it.” She glanced back at him as his eyes roved over her. “Then sips and snuggles I guess.”

She beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen as he chuckled.

He was definitely up to something and there were a couple of ways she was thinking she might be able to catch him at it.

Notes:

Short chapter this time. Next one is longer, and then we're going to get into another "mini-series" like we did with the Christmas holiday sequence.

Chapter 37: Unamused

Summary:

Astarion and Jen set out the following weekend on another Tavscapade. As usual, it goes all upside down and twisty.

37. Unamused

“What in the sweet hells is that?”

Astarion stared at the twisted loops and swirls thrusting skyward alongside the highway. They were painted in bright colors, red or orange, a blueish green.

Jen laughed.

“That’s Six Flags. This is where you picked to go find the next Tav this weekend.”

Perhaps he should have determined what, exactly, an amusement park entailed. He had, mistakenly it now seemed to him, assumed that it had been some kind of park, like the ones in the upper city, only where people went to amuse themselves, hopefully in various scandalous fashions. And because of that, he had figured that a Tav candidate at an ‘amusement park’ was damn near a sure win.

This whole assumption may have been a bit off.

“And what is an amusement park?”

“You didn’t actually look up what it was?”

“Clearly,” he sneered. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s a park full of rides, games, shopping, food, that kind of thing. People go to have fun.”

“Rides?”

“Yeah, like that roller coaster,” she said, slowing the vehicle down as they exited the highway. “Half of them are probably closed for the season since it’s winter, but some are probably still open.”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted, staring up at the looming metal structure, “people ride that thing? In that little cart?”

“Yes. Yes they do. And it does look like the Titan is running right now, so that ‘people’ will be including us.”

“Oh no it will not,” he declared in reply. Jen snorted again but said nothing else about the death trap full of screaming people that he could hear spiraling around above them.

“So where in the park does Sarah work? I’m guessing you’ll want to stop there first?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, taking his eyes off the metal monstrosity. “At ticketing.” 

“So we’ll be stopping there by default. Easy enough.”

He turned around, still completely preoccupied by the roller coaster.

“We’re not really going to ride that, are we?”

Jen looked at him, eyes a twinkle.

“Oh, no no no,” he said. “I am not going on that whirling dervish of death, thank you very much. You are more than welcome to, but I shall remain happily below, ready to ensure you don’t go to waste when it snaps your darling little neck.”

Jen laughed.

“Just make sure the cats get fed if I die, yeah?”

“Hmph. How about not dying, darling?”

“I’ll try,” she said. “But it’s gotta happen some time.”

“Cheery thought.”

Jen shrugged at him, still grinning. He had not heard the last of this bloody rolling coaster thing.

Astarion started his appearance checks as Jen slowed the car down and slipped it into a free parking space. He had to be looking his best for this meeting with Sarah. He’d caught another deer last night, and taken a rather hearty drink from his little mud mephit, so he was as close to positively lively as he could conceivably be.

He hopped out of the vehicle, standing up straight, smoothing his black denim out and ensuring his lambskin blazer was impeccable. Jen leaned against the car, sighing at him impatiently as he ensured everything was in place.

First impressions were everything, and this was not one that he was going botch.

“Ready?”

“I suppose I am.”

Jen nodded back him but didn’t move yet.

“Did you want to approach her alone first, or should we walk up together? I can hang back and rendezvous once we’re inside.”

Astarion blinked. Now that she mentioned it, that would probably be for the best.

“Let’s do that, then,” he agreed, motioning her forward. “After you.”

Jen started the long march over to the ticketing counter, and he watched as she briefly looked at each of the attendants, no doubt trying to figure out which one was Sarah. He did likewise, stopping to ‘check his phone’ so that he had time to see them all without drawing any suspicion.

And then he saw her.

Far left side, currently occupied helping someone else. He glanced at the open lines, scowled, and walked up to get in Sarah’s, clearing his throat quietly around the sudden bump of his heart. The attendant next to Sarah tried to wave him over, but he ignored it, fiddling with the phone and pretending he hadn’t seen.

“Sir. I can help you here!”

Astarion clenched his jaw and sucked in a breath, stood there debating how to play this, when Jen slid over to the man and started buying her ticket. He grinned, relieved yet again for a capable partner in crime. Gods above, the woman was a blessing sometimes. A royal pain in his ass the rest of the time, but it balanced out on the whole of things.

Astarion watched as Sarah finished helping the family in front of him, waving them a friendly goodbye, and then turned her attention to him. She looked up, smiled at him, and greeted him in a voice with a very pleasant musicality to it.

“Hello,” he smiled, stepping up to the counter.

“Hello! How can I help you today?”

Well wasn’t she simply arresting? Mmm, very easy on the eyes, and her perfume over the veiled scent of her pulse had him breathing it all in. Astarion caught himself staring at her collarbone and cursed silently. It wouldn’t do to get the cart out in front of the horse.

“One ticket please,” he purred. “And how are you today, my dear?”

She smiled at him, and he was pleased to note it was genuine. He watched her click around on the computer, handed his card over, and brushed a fingertip across her hand ‘accidentally’ as she took it from him.

She colored and smiled down at her hands. He took this to be a wonderful sign, and reminded himself to breathe. It was time to find out just how old this vision of a human being was.

“Pardon me,” he said, “but you look very familiar, my dear.”

“Hm?”

“I think I know you from somewhere but I can’t place where. Did you attend school around here?”

“I did," she said, looking into his eyes, trying to place him, down in "Grand Prairie. You?”

“Yes,” he lied. “Class of 2006.”

This, he knew, was Jen’s graduating class. He’d found a stack of something called ‘yearbooks’ in her closet and had flipped through them to figure out what they were. They seemed to be some kind of record of her schooling, and he’d adopted her graduation year as his own to use as a less offensive test of age after the method he’d used with Maria had had mixed results.

“Oh, maybe you were there when my older sister was. I graduated in 2012.”

Astarion tallied the year in his head, subtracting it out from the current one and adding eighteen. He swallowed his disappointment.

“Ah,” he replied, voice hitching ever so slightly. “Yes, maybe that’s it.”

Sarah handed the card back to him. He took it silently, trying to hold himself in this pleasant, carefree persona just a little longer as they finished their interaction, but as he thanked Sarah for her assistance, he found himself sinking back into the disappointment he knew so well. He continued over to the gates, presented the ticket, and walked through into the park, glancing around for his companion.

“So,” asked Jen, skipping up to him breathlessly, before her face fell.

Astarion knew he wasn’t hiding the disappointment any longer. He shook his head at her, glanced up into the park, feeling cold and still again now that the ephemeral flicker of hope from this morning had been snuffed out yet again.

Jen stood in front of him awkwardly, waiting. Finally she spoke up.

“We don’t have to stay. We can just go back.”

Astarion took his eyes off the distance and peered at her, feeling his chest catch as he saw his sadness mirrored on her face. 

“Let’s go walk around, my dear,” he said, stepping forward beside her. “We did come all this way, after all.”

She nodded at him, and took a few quick steps to catch up as he strode further into the park, hurrying away from the gates, trying to discard another memory and feeling that he didn’t want.

“Hey,” she said, as they approached a split in the path. “Roller coaster’s this way.”

“And that’s why we should go the other way,” he retorted.

Gods damn the stubborn little thing. Once she had a plan, it was impossible to get her to let go of it.

“Oh come on,” she said. “Driving is far more dangerous and that’s not killed you.”

“Yet,” he sneered.

“These things are highly regulated. I don’t know the last time anyone died on one. You’ve got to do it just once. If you go on one, and you hate it, I’ll never ask again. I promise.”

He stared down at her, lip curled at the very idea of willingly getting on it. If the screams that came from the other passengers were anything at all to judge by, it was a patently insane idea.

“Pleeeease?”

She blinked up at him, eyes widening as she pouted.

“Stop that,” he said. “That’s cheating.”

“Oh, sure, says the guy who does it all the time .”

“Well, I am a liar and a cheat, so I don’t know what you expect from me .”

“Roller coaster.”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“No.”

“Scaredy cat. Karlach would do it.”

“I-”

Jen smirked up at him and he wanted to wipe the look right off her face. Bloody mud mephit. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting every ounce of his annoyance hiss out of him with it.

“Fine.”

Jen’s face split into a triumphal grin and she bobbed on her feet a few times as she couldn’t contain her excitement.

“To the Titan. Let’s go!”

He rolled his eyes and followed after her as she took off in the direction of their impending demise. When Astarion slid into line behind her, he couldn’t help but read all the warning signs with trepidation. No pregnant women. No small children. No heart conditions. No motion sickness.

No standing or you might be decapitated? Is that what the little stick figure was indicating? Gods, they really were going to die. Beheading was one of the few things that could actually do him in for good.

“I’m not so sure about this, darling,” he started, only to have Jen cut him off immediately.

“No drinks for a week if you don’t.”

“You could never hold out that long, my dear.”

“Try me.”

He stared down at her. She was serious.

“Your call,” she added, raising an eyebrow.

“Fine,” he hissed again, watching a small train of three cars stop on the platform to let riders on and off. He took a look at the ones exiting, noted that they stank of a mixture of excitement, joy, terror, and illness. And gods, was that a bit of urine?

Wonderful.

They snaked their way through the line until they were at the front.

“We’ll wait for the front car,” Jen told the attendant, holding an arm out to stop Astarion from walking down to the next available seat.

“And why’s that,” Astarion asked her, eyes tightening as he tried to swallow both apprehension and suspicion now.

“Better view,” she smirked.

The next set of cars rolled up and they were pointed to the very front. Astarion stared at the lap bar rather doubting that this one little thing would keep him from simply falling out. Jen pulled hers down snug across her hips, and he did likewise.

“Oh,” she said, as the car jerked into motion and he fought to keep silent at the rising fear. “Front car also gets you a better picture.”

“It what?”

Jen burst out laughing again, and Astarion dug his fingers into the bar across his lap to keep from reaching over and strangling her. The car inclined to head up the impossibly tall hill.

“Is that ticking normal?”

“Yes,” she giggled, knee bouncing around like a rabbit in its death throes.

This was going awfully high up. Horrendously high up. Unbearably high up. Gods. He kept his head pointed straight out in front of him, displeased to find that his palms were suddenly slick with sweat as he clung to the bar across his lap.

“Almost there,” Jen hissed in excitement as the car slowed near the top of the hill.

And then topped it.

And then tipped forward.

Astarion let out a squeal of displeasure, unable to keep himself from looking straight down , damn it all. He pressed himself back against the seat as far as he could as though it would do a damn thing to stop what was about to happen.

Jen let out a whoop beside him and he very briefly caught her elated face in his peripheral vision before the car plummeted toward the earth.

Astarion shrieked at the top of his lungs and Jen’s scream of excitement warped into hyena-like laughter beside him.

Fun? People did this for fun?

He shrieked again as they tilted sideways and spun upward before being dragged almost to a dead stop mid track. He swallowed, filled his lungs, and clung to the bar in his lap while Jen howled beside him. He glared at her.

“I’m going to- YARGH!”

His threat died unfinished, birthing another shriek as they tilted one way, then another, and spun downward in an awful spiral straight toward the ground, before whipping him back the other way, flinging them yet another direction, and finally grinding to a blessed halt at ground level.

Astarion sat composing himself, staying perfectly still while his heart and lungs tried to figure out if they should be working overtime or ceasing all work whatsoever.

He caught sight of an arm and a phone being held out in front of him, heard the word cheese, and didn’t manage to snatch the damned device from her before Jen pulled it back protectively against her chest.

“Delete that,” he hissed, not daring to imagine how disheveled he must have looked.

Jen laughed again, looked at her phone, and fell to wheezing and coughing as she tried to catch her breath in the chilly winter air.

“Good,” he spat. “I hope that cough you’ve developed kills you.”

The cars halted and the bar released him at last.

Astarion sprang from the contraption cursing, hurrying down off the platform to pull his own phone out and check his hair.

Oh, sweet gods, it was worse than he thought.

“You’re evil,” he whined, raking his fingers through the curls, trying to get them back in some semblance of order.

Jen leaned patiently against a wall, giggling as he sorted himself out. He was going to make her pay for that later, damnable wretch.

“We can go now,” she said, voice overflowing with that sharp brand of smugness she was so infuriatingly full of when she knew she’d won. “That’s really all I wanted to see.”

“Well. So happy to oblige,” he sneered, starting as Jen squashed herself against him, arms locking around his back and pulling him into a hug. He tried to shake her off gently. “Alright, that’s enough.”

“Thank you,” she said, still holding him tight a moment longer before releasing him with a bright smile. “How about a water ride?”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Jen giggled again.

“They’re all closed anyway, don’t worry.”

Astarion huffed at her before stalking off in a random direction, leaving her scrambling to keep up as he made his way away from that damned monstrosity. He set a nice, brisk pace, not slowing at all until he heard Jen’s breathing and heart rate just on the edge of discomfort. He smirked to himself and finally slowed down, deeming that little petty revenge enough for now.

“I really don’t care for roller coasters that much,” Jen said, catching her breath beside him.

Astarion whirled on her, outrage erupting anew.

“Then why in the sweet hells did we go on it?” 

“Because you haven’t thought about anything else since, have you?”

No. He had not.

“You vile, manipulative devil.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh, very clever, darling, but you and I both know there are other ways to take my mind off of things,” he said stepping closer, sinking into a saunter and dropping his gaze. He savored her deep flush of crimson and those extra few heart beats just for him.

“Not in public,” she mumbled as they continued back toward the gate. She looked up suddenly, eyes catching sight of something she clearly found arresting. Astarion turned, trying to determine what it was.

“Hey,” Jen said, voice low and excited. “Are you good at throwing things?”

Odd question.

“Do you need to be thrown somewhere? Off a roller coaster perhaps?”

She scoffed at him.

“No. Buuuuuut you wanna play a game?”

Astarion sighed and looked at her sideways. He did not. But she was clearly focused on something specific at one of the booths they were walking toward.

“Out with it, darling. What is it?”

“Can you win me that eevee?” Jen was pointing over at one of the carnival booths, eyes glowing with hope.

Astarion looked over at what she was pointing at. A plush toy. The woman wanted a toy for children. He looked at her and then at the game. It seemed to be a simple set of three bottles stacked atop each other. The sign above read ‘$10 for three throws.’

“Is that it? Just throw something to knock them all down?”

“Yes,” she said, watching him. She was lucky he liked her so much. He’d never tolerate this nonsense from just anyone.

“Darling, that’s simple.”

Her face lit up even brighter, and she turned again, staring covetously at one of the toys. He hid his amusement, rolled his eyes at her, and prowled up to the counter, exchanging a crisp twenty for three white leather balls stitched together with thick red thread.

“The bottles are weighted down,” she murmured to him as he sized the stack up.

He nodded. Oldest trick in the book, of course, but there wasn't a wizard or djinn here to brace the stack with a quick nudge of imperceptible magic.

Astarion picked the ball up, tossed it up and caught it a few times, getting the feel of it. The bottles may have been weighed down, but the purveyors of this little stall would not be prepared for superhuman strength and centuries of practice.

He couldn’t recall the number of times he’d lobbed a well placed stone at or through something as a distraction. Or sent one screaming into the skull of an unfortunate rodent.

This target wasn’t even fleeing.

Astarion sized up the stack of bottles, tossed the ball up once more for good luck, and sent it crashing right above where the bottom two sat on the shelf. All three went flying.

He heard the sharp breath of excitement behind him at the sight and smiled.

“First throw,” the attendant noted. “You don’t play baseball do you? That was a hell of a pitch.”

“No. I just had some practice throwing things in my younger years,” he deflected, wondering what in the nine hells baseball was. “Alright, darling, which one did you want?”

Jen leapt up beside him, leaning on the counter, and pointed.

“Eevee please!”

“Team eeveelution,” said the man, bumping fists with her before climbing a step stool to retrieve the prize.

“I’ll take that,” Astarion said, intercepting the plush toy before the man could hand it to Jen.

He turned it over in his hands, scrutinizing it. It was very poorly stitched, but wouldn’t be too terribly hard to repair when it burst a seam in the near future as it would most certainly do. He tossed it up and caught it, turning to grin at Jen.

“What do you have to say for yourself, darling? Putting me through that roller coaster.”

“Evil bastard.”

He tched at her, mimed handing the toy back to the man watching them with a grin. Jen rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry I made you get on the roller coaster and that it messed your damn hair up. Happy?”

“It’s a start,” he smirked before handing the plush creature over to Jen. “What did you say this thing was?”

“Eevee!”

The grin she flashed at him showed every tooth, and he couldn’t help but smile back as she squeaked softly and crushed the plush toy into a hug, rocking her shoulders back and forth.

“Thank you,” she said, opening her eyes back up, plastering him with a look of such sincere happiness and admiration that he couldn’t not smile back. “What should we name him?”

“Name him?”

“You’ve got to name your stuffed animals.”

She was staring at him, waiting for suggestions.

“Er, I don’t know,” he muttered.

“Hmmmm.”

She paused, then looked up with a deep grin.

“Ike. His name is Ike.”

“Ike? What kind of bloody name is that?”

“Short for Eisenhower, which is where we went camping.”

Astarion laughed. Jen’s eyes sparkled with deviousness, and he approved wholeheartedly. The name would be innocent enough to everyone who didn’t know the history behind it, but now it was a pointed little joke that they’d enjoy between them each and every time it came up.

“Ike,” he said, returning her grin. “I approve, then. Shall we take Ike and head out?”

“If you want to, yeah,” she said softly.

“I do think we should,” he replied, catching the return of her quiet sadness.

She certainly had a way of grounding him, drawing him back to the task at hand, or in this case, its abject failure. Astarion felt that weariness rise in his chest, the feeling of scraped emptiness around the edges of his eyes, and he sighed.

“May I hold Ike, my dear?”

“I suppose so,” she said slowly. “But only if I can hold your hand in return.”

He sighed with a smile and held his hand out to her. She took it in her own blessedly warm one and held the plush toy out to him. Astarion tucked it up under his arm and let Jen orient them toward the exit of the park.

They walked together quietly until Jen broke the silence with a squeeze of her hand.

“I know I say this every time, but we’ll find her.”

“Of course,” he replied mechanically, filling the words with more confidence than he felt.

In truth, he’d been mired in doubt again recently. Every damn step was like trudging through the bog, and he was starting to fret that he was missing something crucial. Jen’s clever little scheme with the pictures had given him a nice new shot of hope, but it came with a downside.

More perfect candidates, yes, but it seemed to have made each failure that much more harrowing. It was one thing to not have any clue if he'd even see one on an outing. It was another to go into it almost sure that this would be the one, and then fail again.

And winter was always hard. Cold. Lonely. Leaving him longing for heat and life and companionship again as they drew closer to the date he dreaded more than anything.

He squeezed the toy a little closer, felt Jen squeeze his hand back as he realized he’d done the same with it.

He’d been considering how to best handle it this year.

When he was wandering Faerûn alone, he generally spent the coming week or so avoiding thinking at all, trying to fill the days with shallow amusements. Failing that, he’d clear some bandit lair or goblin nest or something, descending into a bloodbath and subsequent drunken stupor.

Anything to pull him from the grip of sorrow and loneliness that hit the same day each year for decades now.

Here, in this new plane as that awful reminder swiftly approached, he had spent nights sitting in the dim glow of the game room after he’d returned from his hunts, staring into nothing, eyes roving over the eclectic decorations.

The mask Jen's sister Izzy had given her repeatedly caught his attention, and he found his gaze drawn toward it. He’d pondered it again on one such night and had looked up the city of Las Vegas. Jen’s sister had assured him he’d like it, after all, and she’d be right about the TV shows.

He was fascinated by the photographs he’d seen and everything he’d read. Gambling and carousing and decadence. Such light and spectacle. It had to be fun with a nickname like ‘Sin City,’ surely, so perhaps there was no better time to go see it in person.

Plus, he had Jen for company this year, and there was an awful lot of comfort and possibility in that.

“Let’s go on a trip together,” he decided suddenly, glancing over at her.

“Sure. Where to?”

“This Las Vegas Izzy mentioned sounds fun.”

Jen’s head slumped forward as she smiled and exhaled.

“Mmmk. I’ll start looking into flights and we can put it on the calendar for the spring.”

Astarion laughed.

“No, darling, let’s go next weekend .”

She turned her head and looked at him. He enjoyed watching the sheer shock of his suggestion upend her ability to think clearly for the moment.

“Next weekend.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because we didn’t plan to? It’s expensive. Last minute flights aren’t cheap.”

“Well, then it will be my treat.”

“Your treat? Tell you what, look up flights and prices, then say that to me again.”

Astarion handed Ike back to Jen and took his phone out. He typed in ‘flights to Las Vegas’ and was enormously pleased to see that these ‘expensive’ flights were only several hundred dollars each. He made a show of appearing to think, then looked back at Jen grinning.

“My treat, darling. Shall we leave Friday evening?”

“You have the cash laying around to just go to Vegas? We need a hotel, too.”

Astarion rolled his eyes with a sneer. Such a damned spoilsport sometimes. But on the off chance that she was correct, he searched hotels, and discovered that once again, they were well within what he planned to spend to stay out from under the crushing weight of despair.

He would throw every damn coin he’d made at that end and worry about making more later.

Astarion looked down at Jen again, grin widening at her abject suspicion.

“Oh these are all well within my means, darling. So Friday evening, then? Or can you take a half day? We can arrive before dinner if you do.”

Astarion watched her pretty little head calculating all of this. Trying to see the holes. Trying to avoid the pitfalls. He could tell she was interested. When it took her this long to respond, she was generally trying to talk herself out of what was a perfectly fine idea.

“Any objections other than expense, my sweet,” he pressed.

“I mean. I guess not?” Her eyebrows furrowed suddenly. “Wait… you know you need an ID to fly, right?”

“You need an ID for everything in this damnable realm. But I’ll be fine, I assure you.”

She looked at him askance.

“Once you’re talking airports and flying, you’re looking at federal charges, not petty ones.”

He scoffed, waving her concern away. Charges were only charges if you were charged with them, and he did not intend to be, not with the amount of safety nets and obfuscation he’d been busy implementing. So many clever ways to hide money here.

“Any other objections?”

Jen sat and stared at her screen, thinking about it. He remained silent, knowing better than to interrupt early, which would inevitably make her default to no. Something seemed to strike her, though, as her face turned red and she began picking at a loose thread on Ike.

“Uh, where were you thinking we’d stay?”

“You clearly have an opinion, my dear.”

“Well, I’d go with a major casino on the strip if you’re looking to be right in the action.”

“Hmmm,” he mused as he turned back to refine his search on his phone. There seemed to be quite a number of options, ranging from cheap to decadent. Very interesting. It would take a little more research to decide on which one he thought looked particularly decadent.

“Well, I’ll book our flights and then worry about the venue.”

“Er, it’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said, staring at him with a very distrusting look, “but can I at least hear which one you’ve picked before you finalize it?”

He treated her to a deep smirk, eyes glinting.

“Why’s that, my dear? Worried?”

“With you? Always.”

He sighed dramatically at her and made a show of acquiescing.

“If that’s what it takes to get you to agree to our little outing, then fine. I’m not sure why you’re worried, though. We both know that I’ll pick something far more lavish than you would.”

“Yeah. That’s part of the worry,” she muttered before pausing as another unknowable thought flitted through her skull. “I suppose I could take some time off this weekend. I’ve got a pretty good excuse to go have some fun, actually.”

“Well, all the more reason to go, then. We can take a break. Have a wonderful time. Indulge.”

“If you think we need a break, then what the hell do you call the past few weeks?”

Oh she was precious sometimes.

“Comfort food,” he purred. “Wonderful, of course, but there is so much more that we can sample, darling.”

She picked at Ike’s loose thread double time now, eyes staring into the distance, face frozen in a look of mild concern. He tched at her playfully, dropping his voice.

“Not thinking of backing out, are you?”

“No, just… mentally preparing, I guess.”

He laughed. There was no preparing for the kind of weekend he was anticipating having, but it was cute that she thought she could.

Although…

Perhaps he could do a little preparation of his own. He’d learned so much about her through hands-on experience already, but found it quite odd that he’d not stumbled into a salacious stash of any kind. Gods knew the internet had plenty of material featuring him out there, which she’d undoubtedly partaken in before his arrival, so… he just needed to discover where she kept it.

“Well,” he said, “Let’s go home and I’ll find a casino that you approve of before anything else. Seems I have some research to do before next weekend.”

Notes:

The roller coaster was the upside down and twisty. I just like bating y'all with summaries and titles sometimes.

BUT! You now see where our next little mini-series is going to take place. Astarion and Jen are going to Vegas, baby! The idea of Astarion in Las Vegas is one that just absolutely delights me, and I hope you find the upcoming Las Vegas chapters to be particularly delicious. I know I sure freaking do.

Also, I had this ready to go this morning and got taken out by the downtime. RIP. So glad it's up and running again so I could get this fun one out today! Also, I apologize if there's more typos than normal; it's because I've had to clean it up twice now and my attention span was over it.

Chapter 38: Flighty

Summary:

Jen does not enjoy flying. It turns out, neither does Astarion.

38. Flighty

“Give me that,” Jen hissed, trying to snatch the ID from him. He withheld it with ease, far too quick for her, grinning at their impromptu game of keepaway in the TSA line.

“I don’t think I will.”

“Astarion. If that’s a fucking fake it’s probably not going to get through security.”

“It’s a real ID, darling. Like the signs say.”

“Does it match your fucking ticket? The names have to match perfectly or they won’t let you on.”

“They match perfectly.”

“Ok and you also have to look like the fucker on the ID.”

“I can assure you that I do.”

Jen glared at him, skeptical, setting her teeth.

“What if the person you stole that from is on the no-fly list?”

“The what?”

“A list that means they’re not allowed to fly.”

“Well, then I suppose we wouldn’t be going to Las Vegas. But I’m not concerned. Weston Wilcox seemed rather dull to me, honestly. Not the type to cause trouble.”

“Fucking who?”

Astarion giggled.

“Weston Wilcox, my dear. That is my name, after all.”

Jen stopped clawing for the ID and stared. Did he make up a whole fake persona? And use it to get an ID? Is that where he’d gone that morning several weeks back? Did he scam his way into a gods-damned ID card?

This man was going to be the death of her yet.

“After we’re through security, you’re telling me how you got that.”

“Maybe,” he grinned, turning his nose up in a smug little expression.

Jen flashed a smile at the concerned looking group of women behind them, hoping on all her lucky stars that they wouldn’t raise a fuss, and that if they did Astarion had planned for it. She doubted he had, but she could hope.

Astarion had checked his bag once she’d informed him that the majority of the products he was bringing were too large to go through security. She couldn’t even imagine needing more than a single backpack for a few days, so she’d rolled all her clothes up, added her toiletries, stuck her Steam Deck on top, and zipped it all up.

“You go through first,” she told him quietly as they approached the front of the line and the agents checking boarding passes and IDs. “Need to make sure you’re good.”

She watched as Astarion strolled up to the next available agent, held his phone and ID out to the gentleman, who slid it under the light, handed it back to him and…

Let him right on through?

The fuck?

Jen shook herself out of it, grabbing her own ID back from the agent she’d walked up to, rejoining Astarion as he selected another line.

“This whole process is insane,” he hissed, staring unhappily at the third line of the past twenty minutes.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. I still remember when we could go greet dad at the gate when he came home from trips. Those days are long gone. The whole damn thing is security theater now.”

She paused and shot Astarion a look.

“As evidenced by the fact that they let you through. How did you do that?”

“If I told you, my dear,” he said in an increasingly common refrain, “you’d be implicated in it.”

“Will you at least show me the ID?”

“Say please.”

“Please.”

Astarion giggled.

“Say it nicer.”

“Pretty please with a fucking cherry on top. Show me your damn ID.”

Astarion stuck his nose proudly in the air and held it out in front of her as they inched closer to the x-ray machines. Jen leaned in and looked at the card.

Sure as shit, that’s him on it.

Fucking hell that was a really good fake. Was that a fake? Did he have contacts now?

“Where did you get that?”

“At the DMV like a normal person. I simply adopted a more ‘Texas’ name than Astarion. I am officially Weston Wilcox, thank you very much.”

“Uh huh,” she said, slinging her backpack into a large grey tray, grateful that this was one of the newer machines that didn’t require her to dissect her entire pack before proceeding.

“Jackets off. Pockets empty. Everything goes through the machine except you. You just follow the directions on the inside of it when the agents tell you to.”

“What is it,” he asked, looking at the rotating machine askance.

“I don’t actually know exactly, beside that it’s checking you for weapons and whatever. Used to be metal detectors or something. Now it’s some kind of millimeter something or other? I don’t know. Scans you. Tells them you’re safe or not.”

Astarion hmphed at this, then turned to watch the conveyor suck his bundle of items into the detection machine suspiciously.

“The quicker you get moving the quicker you get your stuff back on the other side,” Jen said, poking him in the side to snap him out of it.

“How do I know there aren’t gnomes in there stealing everything?”

“Gnomes? You’re worried about gnomes in an airport?”

“They’d fit,” he argued. Jen nudged him toward the people scanner again, as it was his turn, and he was not paying a lick of attention to the man on the other side trying to beckon him through.

He moved into it, finally, and Jen watched in amusement as he sneered at the outline of the person in the machine, gave the man directing him a sour look, and then struck the requisite pose with an eye roll. They waved him through, glanced at the screen and then waved him on.

Jen followed next with the same results, catching up to Astarion on the other side of the benches.

“Have you even seen a gnome since you’ve been here?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there lurking.”

“There are no gnomes in the airport scanners. Or anywhere else around here.”

“If you say so. And now where do we go?”

Jen looked around, saw the departures board, and walked over to it.

“Ugh. Gate nineteen.” That damn gate was crammed into the end of the terminal with three others. They would get the crowded one. At least Astarion had seemed to let up on the pickpocketing these days. Usually. She sighed.

“Now the shitty part.”

“The rest of this was the pleasant part,” he asked, unable to keep the disapproval out of his tone.

She gave him a sneering grin.

“I fucking hate flying for a reason.”

She’d flown countless times, had even briefly worked on an account for an airline, and had what she considered a solidly above average understanding of commercial air travel. All the same, Jen abhorred flying. Sure, it was fascinating to look out the window, watch the world sweep along beneath the wing, and wonder where she was or who was looking up at her, but that was the only good thing about the whole experience.

It barely kept a thousand nagging terrors at bay in the sky.

Losing an engine to a bird strike on takeoff. Faulty ATC instructions from overworked, aging controllers. Another Tenerife. Deicing and holdover times. Lithium-ion batteries. Invisible fractures in turbine fans. Increasingly erratic severe weather. Runway overruns into poorly designed airport infrastructure.

The list was quite endless, and worst of all, she was just a simple passenger, another statistic waiting to happen, doomed to the course of events.

Realistically, she knew there were thousands and thousands of flights a day, and maybe a half dozen had any kind of incident. These incidents, though uncommon, were common enough to be completely invisible to the general public and the news media. This meant that ninety-nine percent of the time, even if something did happen, it would be fine.

But the anxiety knew otherwise and it knew better.

“Should I be concerned?"

“Realistically, no. But in my experience, you don’t get a say in whether you are or not. Your stupid brain picks for you and that’s that.”

Jen sunk into a seat in the waiting area and fumbled in her bag for the Steam Deck and a pair of headphones.

“Download anything you want to watch or listen to now. You won’t have any kind of connection on the plane.”

Astarion walked over to the window, taking in the activity on the tarmac below with some interest. Jen booted up her farm, reminded herself which year and season she was in, got a bead on what the hell she’d been doing with the file the last time she opened it, and half played, half watched her curious companion.

She had a strong hunch that he was going to be firmly in the ‘hates flying’ camp given his attitude toward every other vehicle that they’d thus far encountered, including the roller coaster from last weekend.

It wasn’t long before the pair were boarding, another process that Astarion complained bitterly about, to the amusement of everyone around them on the jet bridge.

Once aboard, Jen sat in the window seat, which she’d made Astarion change her seat to after he’d unknowingly booked them two aisle seats across from each other. He slid into the middle seat beside her, glancing back and forth across the confines of the Boeing 737. Being able to buy a window seat ahead of time was new for this particular airline and she didn’t hate it. On the flip side, she wasn’t pleased that they had to pay for Astarion’s bag now, and noted that a lot more people had awkwardly large carry-ons with them, but it was what it was.

Corporate enshitification continued apace everywhere, it seemed.

“How long will we be in this contraption,” Astarion whispered to her, looking around uneasily.

“Probably three-ish hours.”

He grunted at her, a noise he didn’t typically make, and she peered at his face closely. They weren’t even off the ground or moving yet. If something about this was already getting to him, that was a bad sign.

Chewing gum probably wouldn’t help him, either. Would chewing gum taste disgusting to a vampire if food did? Was it technically food even if you weren’t swallowing it?

“Ladies and gentlemen, if we could have your attention for just a moment, we’d like to point out the safety features of your Boeing 737-800 aircraft.”

Astarion’s head popped up.

Jen removed a single earbud, counted the number of seat backs between herself and the nearest exit row, committed that number to memory so she could navigate to an exit by touch in the inevitable impending crash, and sighed unhappily.

“Safety briefing,” Astarion asked.

“Yeah. In case we crash.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Rarely.”

“Then why is your heart rate so high?”

“I hate flying.”

Jen watched the concern grow on his face, not too happy with herself about her attitude when he was clearly not taking this well either, but also spending far too much energy keeping herself calm to do a damn thing about him at the moment.

“To fasten your seatbelt,” the flight attendant continued, “slide the flat end into the buckle. Pull the loose strap to tighten. To release, lift up on the buckle. Position your seatbelt low and tight across your hips, and wear it any time you are seated.”

“Do these things throw you out of them, too,” Astarion asked.

“Meh. If you get thrown out of this you’re probably being thrown out in flaming bits. Most people die of smoke inhalation in a plane crash after their pelvis is crushed and they’re unable to escape. Or blunt force trauma, depending on the flavor of the disaster.”

Astarion’s eyes widened as he looked back up toward the flight attendant.

“If an evacuation is necessary, follow flight attendant commands and leave everything. In the event of a water evacuation, use the life vest under your seat.”

Jen snorted as Astarion started leaning forward and looking down beneath him. She touched his shoulder lightly, getting his attention again.

“We’re not going over any water so you really shouldn’t need to worry about that. Besides, wouldn’t you just melt or burn away or something if we crash in a river?”

“I’m not entirely certain, darling, and I’d rather not find out.”

She shrugged. Gods, did flying bring out the fatalist in her.

“Suppose we’d get the answer to that.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “Actually, you’d probably survive a plane crash. It’d fucking suck, but I bet you could pull through. Smoke inhalation wouldn’t be a problem and unless your head snapped clean off or landed on a snapped table leg or something, you could probably crawl away.”

“Pleasant,” he sneered at her, eyes still tight around the edges.

“We are coming by to check that your seatbelt is fastened, your seatback and tray table are in the upright and locked position, and your carryon items are completely beneath the seat in front of you or in an overhead bin, leaving the area around your feet clear.”

“What the devil for?”

“In case we have to evacuate. Can’t be tripping over everyone’s loose stuff.”

Luckily he didn’t have a carry-on. He’d be the asshole who tried to bring it with, and she would one thousand percent kill him and be done with it if he tried.

“If needed, four oxygen masks will drop from a compartment overhead. To activate the flow of oxygen, pull down on the mask until the plastic tubing is fully extended. Place the mask over your nose and mouth and breathe normally.”

“Huh,” Jen said, looking at Astarion curiously again as he stared back at her.

“Now what?”

“You’re immune to hypoxia.”

He sighed loudly.

“Do I want to know what hypoxia is?”

“Lack of oxygen to the brain. Kills us stone dead pretty quick. How high up we are determines the time of useful consciousness we have. You’d just be able to carry on well past the rest of us dropping dead around you.”

Jen started giggling at the mental image that took shape in her mind. 

A plane cruising along at thirty-five thousand feet, every soul aboard freshly deceased, and Astarion striding down the aisle like he was at a buffet picking what he’d like to sample. Maybe tossing a few bodies into the aisle, deciding this one was too bitter or that one was just disgusting, but that man over there was just right, before claiming a whole row for himself so that he could spread out and wait for the aircraft to run out of fuel.

Or maybe he was physically strong enough to break into the flight deck.

She snorted as she watched her mental image of him toss a pair of unconscious pilots out the cockpit door and sit in one of the seats up front, staring at the banks of buttons, screens, and dials, talking back as bitching Betty -- or was it a Bob now -- informed him of the impending crash.

‘Pull up, whoop whoop.’

‘GODS, I KNOW! JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!’

Then standing up slowly in the wreckage of a crashed airliner, briefly looking for his bag, deciding to hells with it, and sauntering off to figure out what the devil to do next.

Jen was laughing so hard she was nearly crying now. Astarion sat staring at her, waving a hand in front of her, trying to get her attention again.

“What is so damned funny?”

“Nothing,” she choked out finally.

“Sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight today folks. Or sit up, be tense, and don’t.”

Yeah, that was more her speed. The plane began to roll backward, and both she and Astarion grabbed the seatrest between them, hands colliding awkwardly.

“You can have it,” she said. “Middle seat has dibs.”

She leaned back against her seat, taking a deep breath as they taxied down to the end of the runway. Astarion sat forward, peeking around her to look out the window, watching the flaps on the wing move into position.

“This blasted thing is making all kinds of strange noises.”

“Oh, I know.”

“You can barely hear half of them,” he hissed.

“I can hear enough of them, thanks.”

“It smells, too.”

Jen sighed, briefly distracted wondering what exactly he could smell that wasn’t just passengers everywhere. Jet fuel? Hydraulic fluid? Deice mixture? Wasn’t cold enough for that today. Not here anyhow.

“Flight attendants take your seats. We’ve been cleared for departure.”

Jen grimaced.

It was tough to say whether she hated takeoff or landing more. Probably takeoff. No time to react. Air traffic at its thickest. Full tank of fuel under her in the wings. At least for landing there was less fuel involved to catch fire.

The plane lurched forward as the engines spooled up.

“Can I have your hand,” she whispered to Astarion.

He reached over and gripped hers tightly.

Jen put her feet on the ground, focused on her breathing and clenching her leg and neck muscles for a few moments before letting them go, then repeating it. She could never remember which of those two muscle groups fighter pilots clenched for what g-forces, so she simply did both every damn time to try to combat the stomach-dropping dizziness of leaving the ground below.

She caught Astarion’s muted sound of displeasure as the aircraft’s rear left the ground and brought them up into the sky. The first thousand feet passed swiftly. The next nine thousand always seemed to take an eternity.

This was no exception and was, in fact, worse than normal. They’d caught a windy day, and the whole plane lurched, dropped, and shook the entire way. Jen desperately tried to just look out the window casually, not watching the moving bits, not worrying about the plane’s attitude. Just be empty and breathe.

It was not going well for her because Astarion looked awful.

“Hey,” she whispered. He didn’t respond, kept staring straight ahead. She watched his chest, noted that he’d simply stopped breathing, as though it was too much for now.

Fuck.

“Hey,” she tried again, and tapped his shoulder.

He started upwards, with a sharp gasp, wide eyes flashing over toward her.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Hm?”

“Are you hanging in there?”

He looked through her, gaze unfocused. She noted how tense he was and saw the tiny tremors running through his hands. Even his normal exact movements were sluggish and sloppy, if he moved at all.

He was not ok. This didn’t look like her panic attacks, but something was deeply wrong right now and she found herself scrambling to try to figure out how to fix it.

Jen popped an earbud out and placed it in his ear. He didn’t move, but he didn’t stop her. She glanced down at her audiobook list.

Guess she was introducing him to literature today. She had exactly two classics downloaded at the moment and something told her this wasn't exactly the time for Dracula, regardless of how well it was performed.

Pride and Prejudice it was, then.

“Sorry, I’ve not got anything else downloaded right now, so this is going to have to do.”

Jen slid the arm rest between them up, and slid herself over in her seat until her side pressed against him, flinching as the plane bumped again and entered into a cloud bank.

“We’re ok. This is all normal,” she whispered.

Astarion’s shoulders loosened slightly.

Thank fuck. Part of him was still home, at least.

Jen tucked her arm around his middle, resting her hand on his thigh, giving him a quick squeeze.

“I’m right here, alright? Just hang in there and the plane will get back on the ground soon enough.”

He nodded mechanically, eyes still focused on another realm, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, restarting the book from the beginning.

‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.’

“What do you want to do in Vegas,” she tried asking after she felt him let his head rest against hers a few minutes into the story.

He didn’t respond, but she felt his chest swell beside her as he took a breath. He sat up, pulling away for a moment to get his arm behind her, looped it behind her waist, and clung to the belt loop on her jeans.

She sighed. He was in there, just trapped. Maybe this was his way of coping. She closed her eyes in a sad grimace, wishing again that she could make this all go away for him, but settling for apparently making it at least a little less unbearable for him.

Jen glanced at the clock on her phone and sighed again.

Once they reached cruising altitude, the flight attendants came around to hand out snacks and drinks. Jen didn’t typically drink on flights, but did this time, choosing a mini bottle of Aviation gin, mixing it with a free seltzer water.

She kept the nearly catatonic elf beside her propped up against her and declined any kind of snacks or beverages for him.

He’d begun to stir more as the audiobook progressed, and she’d caught him exhaling quietly in amusement at it more than once. All the same, she could tell he was worse off than she’d seen him yet, and she really didn’t have anything else she could do to comfort him.

They were listening to Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Caroline Bingly take a turn about the room as Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth entered a bout of verbal sparring when the announcement for the beginning of the descent into Las Vegas rang out overhead.

Astarion’s hand had migrated from her belt loop to her leg at some point in the flight, it is remained resting calmly there. His breathing had returned to a normal-seeming rhythm, too, though Jen could never quite tell with him, and while he was not animated, he was at least reacting to the story.

She decided it was probably best to make sure he knew the plane was going to start moving differently in case he’d not really caught it. She seemed to be the only thing he was aware of outside himself at the moment.

“Hey, the plane’s gonna start shifting again soon, alright? But it’s normal. They’re gonna descend and get us lined up for a landing. If you keep watching, you can probably see the Vegas strip from the sky as we land.”

He nodded and she squeezed his leg.

They could not get the hell on the ground fast enough.

The plane descended through blessedly clear skies, though the mountains outside of Vegas did cause the plane to jostle and bump a briefly as they passed over them.

As the ground grew closer, Astarion seemed more and more taken by the lights beneath them. He’d actually shifted in his seat enough that Jen surreptitiously offered to swap spots with him so he could see better. He declined this with a rapid head shake, so she leaned back, making sure he had an unimpeded view out the window.

Colors began to emerge from the yellow and white blur beneath them, and Jen could pick out landmarks now. She heard a quiet gasp as The Strat came into view first, then the High Roller Ferris wheel, pink and gold lit buildings she couldn't readily identify before the outline of one she did know -- New York, New York -- and the unmistakable green of the MGM Grand. They were almost on the ground, and Astarion was staring out at the dark pyramid of the Luxor with its crisp white outlines and light projecting from the top, the brilliant gold of Mandalay Bay beside it. 

The plane touched down with a bump and dragged itself to a near stop, turning off of the runway to trundle over to the gate at last.

Jen kept them seated as something inside Astarion started to wake up again. She’d planned to sit as long as he needed to, but now that they were on the ground and the cabin was in full chaos mode as everyone scrambled to get their things, Astarion was absolutely hell bent on getting down the aisle and out the door.

It was all she could do to keep him waiting patiently for his turn instead of bowling everyone in the aisle ahead of them out of the way.

“I don’t want to do that again,” he said, as they dragged themselves up the ramp.

She knew the feeling.

“Let’s get to the casino. Should be a quick ride and then we can just relax.”

“I thought I’d like flying,” he lamented quietly. Jen smiled sadly before responding.

“I used to.”

“What changed?”

“I got older. More acquainted with death. Less tolerant of not knowing what the fuck is going on. Realized how little control I actually have over whether I live or die.”

“That’s it, isn’t it,” he asked, looking at her. “You’re shoved in this bloody death trap with no control over your own fate. You’re trapped in there. You can’t do a damned thing.”

He thought about this as they trudged onward.

“Usually you’re a bit clueless, darling, but sometimes you can be awfully insightful.”

Jen snorted in amusement at the backhand compliment and flashed him a tired smile.

“Only when I’ve had forever to think something to death. Told you you were gonna hate flying. But,” she said, as they turned out into the terminal and the lights and sounds of the slot machines echoed down to them, “we made it.”

Astarion suddenly started to come back to life as he took in all the commotion, the people and the noise and the lights everywhere, and Jen began to smile.

“Welcome to Las Vegas.”

Notes:

Lots of grim humor in this one because, yeah, I hate flying, too. I want to love it and it's so wild what we can do as a species, but I hate it. I miss the little kid who didn't know any better!

More relevant to the story, we're going into Las Vegas proper in the next handful of chapters. It's going to be a blast, but there's a twist y'all will get in the next chapter that will make it even more apparent why I've been really enjoying playing with this idea over the last couple of weeks. It's also been trickier to write than I anticipated, so they won't be out rapid fire like the Christmas mini-series was. You'll just have to bear with the normal 1-2 a week for now until I get all the bits hammered into a shape I consider presentable.

But both of them are going to have a fabulous time and learn some more about themselves and each other before they get back to Texas.

Chapter 39: That's What You Want, Isn't It?

Summary:

Jen is floored by the accommodations. And then Astarion's plans for the weekend. (Wait, he can plan?)

39. That's What You Want, Isn't It?

The pair of them had finally made it to the casino. It turned out that Astarion, or Weston Wilcox, or whoever the fuck he’d decided to be, had elected for them to stay in the Bellagio. Now, she knew this part ahead of time, but what she hadn’t expected was the damn room they walked into.

Astarion had given his suitcase to a bellhop to deliver for him while Jen politely declined being parted from her single backpack.

“Oh, this is marvelous,” he breathed, striding in, arms spread wide.

What the fuck…

This was not a fucking room. This was a damn suite. How much had he spent on this shit? 

And where the hell was he getting this kind of cash? There was no way he was making online customer chat money and funding this shit. It had to be illegally sourced.

She listened as he giggled, wondered what set him off, and walked a few more feet into the room to see the curtains opening themselves as Astarion stood next to a digital display of some kind.

“Well,” he said, turning to her with a mischievous grin. “Don’t stand there gawping. Have a look around!”

Jen moved into the middle of the room, taking in the small dining table and chairs to the right, the sofa with chaise lounger to the left. She moved around the divider in the center of the room toward the curtains. The bed was on the other side.

Fountain view.

This fucker had paid for a fountain view suite.

She glanced at the king bed facing the huge window, then back at the sofa.

The gremlin started scribbling notes, pointing out that there were an awful lot of fuck-on-able surfaces in here.

Jen cleared her throat quietly, letting her backpack slide off her shoulders and down next to the bed before turning to the door on her left.

She wandered into probably the biggest damn bathroom she’d seen; the thing was the size of her damn kitchen at home. Marble tile everywhere. A large, deep soaking tub and a spacious, well lit vanity. It was completely obvious what had wooed Astarion to this suite in particular.

Dear gods, is that a digital toilet?

Who needed a smart toilet? Do business, push lever. Why did this thing have a dozen buttons? Who needed this? Who asked for this?

Jen wandered back out into the main room, saw a door across the way, and went to figure out what the fuck that could possibly be.

A second bathroom, it turned out, just as big as the first. Instead of a tub, this one had a huge shower that the digital display noted doubled as a sauna. She looked at the bench in it, shutting her eyes briefly as the gremlin added another surface to the list with a scratch of its fictional quill.

Jen turned to flee back to the relative safety of the perfectly normal, exactly as anticipated hotel king bed positioned between the divider and the enormous wall of windows.

She stood still a moment, just staring out at the strip at night, completely toppled by the luxury of the accommodations. She wasn’t sure what she expected, really, letting him decide on their room, and sincerely hoped he wasn’t planning on just winning whatever small fortune he’d clearly spent back through gambling. Even Astarion might have trouble cheating the house in Vegas.

Jen heard the door close after a few mumbled niceties before Astarion’s voice floated over to her from the living area on the other side of the divider.

“So, darling, I was thinking we could play a game this weekend.”

“Mmm-hmm,” replied Jen, immediately on guard.

Any sentence he started with a preposition, a ‘darling’, and an innocuous-sounding ask foreshadowed trouble. She bit her lip briefly, and turned, posting up against the divider with her arms crossed, eyeing Astarion as he lounged all too casually on the chaise end of the couch.

“What kind of game?”

“Oh, nothing you’ve not done before, in a sense. I’ve seen how much you enjoy your role playing games-” Jen cut in with a breathy laugh and a long sigh, but said nothing, letting him continue his pitch. “So I was thinking we could play one together, one I think we would both particularly enjoy.”

“This is a sex thing, isn’t it.”

Astarion got to his feet and Jen could see him practically radiating excitement, which only intensified her worry.

“It is so much more than that, darling.”

Wonderful.

“Role playing implies a scenario. I am going out on a limb here to guess that you’ve got one in mind already.”

“I do,” he confirmed, turning his head and dropping his chin conspiratorially, eyes gleaming at her. “I’ve noticed some, shall we say, patterns with you, my dear. Some predilections. I think that both of us might enjoy exploring these further.”

She didn’t deign to answer him just yet, raising a single eyebrow instead, not daring to ask what patterns he was talking about.

“I know the perfect roles for us to experiment in, my dear.”

“Do you?”

“Oh come now, there’s no need for your nervous sarcasm.”

She scowled. He read her too well.

“Of course I’m nervous. Gods only know what you’re about to say and fuck knows how I’m going to react to whatever it is.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about, darling,” he said, sliding closer. “Whatever reaction you have, it’s perfectly natural. And I’m sure we’ll have a wonderful weekend of debauchery however you decide.”

He finished waving his hand about and smiled down at her reassuringly. Jen sat with the phrase ‘weekend of debauchery’ for a moment, recognized it as the source of her uneasiness, recalled New Year’s Eve, determined to hell with it all -- what was the worst that could come out of his mouth -- and pushed through the discomfort.

“Ok, then what’s this idea of yours?”

Astarion gathered himself up in his most haughty pose before making his pronouncement with a dramatic flourish.

“I am the Vampire Ascendent, and you are going to become my spawn.”

There was a moment when Jen was certain time stopped and the universe simply quit. She heard his words, but her brain immediately refused to process them. Her gremlin, on the other hand, had already hit the floor on its knees.

“I- you- what?”

Astarion grinned, devious light shining in his eyes. It was absolutely not fair that he could hear and smell her reactions to this shit. Absolutely, totally, cosmically unfair.

“Oh come on, you know this would be fun.”

“How do you even- we’ve not gotten to that part of the story!”

He fixed his eyes on her face and grinned.

“I may not have, but you certainly have. More than once by the look of it.”

“What are you-” and then it hit her. “You snooped around in my computer.”

She should have started locking it. She hadn’t ever needed to before, but the damn rogue was going to rogue and at this point he was clearly just as tech literate as she was. At least he had the sense to look guilty under her glare.

“For good reason, my sweet! I was only looking for inspiration.”

Which meant he’d gone looking for… 

Oh gods. Oh fuck me.

“Astarion, what exactly did you find?”

He waved a hand dismissively.

“Oh, nothing much. Just a folder full of stories and ‘artwork’ and clips and then a folder in that folder called ‘Holy Hells AA’ that involved an awful lot of very salacious items. It took me a bit to determine what ‘AA’ was shorthand for, but the internet was quite helpful on that front.”

He ended his exposé with a giggle before resting a darkly amused gaze back on her. She stared back at him, trying, and failing, to process this. He held a hand up and interrupted her before she could start the verbal vomit they both knew was imminent.

“Let’s talk through this together, my dear, because you are clearly struggling. So, what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.”

“Alright, what is the gremlin thinking?”

“I- bluntly? Yes. Holy hell, yes.” She mashed her face into her palms. “But I shouldn’t be so into this idea.”

“Ah, and there’s your little spoilsport brain all caught up. And why shouldn’t you be?”

“Because I shouldn’t.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little fantasy! They’re harmless fun.”

“Yeah but like-” she could not believe the words that were about to come out of her mouth, but there was nothing else for it at this point.

“What the hell does it say about me that I want you to eat me alive and leave nothing but a broken little thing begging for more?”

She flushed bright red as his laughter engulfed the room.

“It says that we’re going to have a really good time together this weekend.” He took another moment to compose himself again and took her hands in his.

“Really, this type of thing is quite common, my dear. I’ll keep you safe, I promise. Besides, I would dearly like to indulge some of these darker urges of mine with someone I can trust in return.”

Well that phrase was not at all worrying.

“Um… like what?”

“Well, it hadn’t ever occurred to me to pretend I had gone through with it, but having an obedient little spawn to order about? Pretending to have all that power? It could be very fun, especially in a place like this.”

Her heart was skipping every third beat under the look that followed this pronouncement. And he wasn’t fucking wrong. This would be the place for it. She swallowed.

“Talk me through this,” she said quietly. “What does a whole fucking weekend of this look like?”

He started counting it out on his fingers, to her immediate concern.

“Well, I was thinking we start with me turning you, and then I get to be the hedonistic vampire lord while you play the part of obedient little consort.”

“I’m not staying in this room all weekend. It’s a nice room and all, but-”

“Of course not! We’d go have fun out in this wonderfully vibrant town! Your lord and master has quite a few ideas for some fun, darling,” he purred with a wicked grin.

Her face was in her hands, unsuccessfully hiding from what his use of those titles was doing to her.

“Ok,” she chirped meekly, “I assume the safeword is in play like normal?”

“Absolutely. We can use a few more, too, to help guide things along in a way that’s comfortable for both of us. Fire, frost, and stone. Fire for go, frost for slow, and stone for no.”

She snorted.

“We use colors here. Green, yellow, red.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about this,” he chided with a pleased grin.

“I’ve done some research in the past,” she admitted. “Haven’t exactly had a partner willing to go quite this, uh… it stopped short of whatever this is.”

Was she seriously considering this?

I mean, the idea was to go have a good time this weekend…

Grovelling before Astarion and bending to his whims all weekend? That was her idea of a good time?

No. No, don’t fucking answer that, gods damn it.  

“You haven’t said no,” he observed, watching her closely. “If you’ve not talked yourself out of it yet, I’m beginning to think it’s a yes.”

Jen squirmed around on her feet, looking everywhere but at him.

“Let’s try starting with just the first night and see how I’m doing.” She glanced up at him finally and shivered as possessiveness and excitement kindled in his gaze. “You know you’re going to have to police yourself with the biting because gods know I’m incapable of stopping you.”

“As I always do, my sweet.” He licked his lips, and Jen wasn’t sure if he even realized he’d done it. “Let’s go get you wined and dined, darling. You’re going to need your strength.”

Once they'd decided on their course of action, nothing remained but to put things in motion. Astarion insisted on whisking her away downstairs to the buffet -- which he had heard was fantastic -- and sighing dreamily at all the food laid out to choose from.

Jen, meanwhile, argued halfheartedly about what she was and was not going to sample, only really putting her foot down if it was something she knew she couldn't stomach. They'd not begun their little show yet, and the man was already being bossy. She couldn't help but trail behind her own thoughts as her mind raced through every bit of AA content it could recall, leaving her fretting about the shape of the coming night.

He is going to use that line on me. There is no way he doesn’t use that line on me. Oh gods, he’s going to use that fucking line on me. I am so toast.

She poked a button mushroom around her plate as Astarion tried to ply her with more food and water.

“I’m good, thanks,” she mumbled.

And the kneeling?

It was going to be all she could do to wait for the damn signal.

“No more prime rib?”

Jen shook her head. Astarion leaned across the table and steepled his hands.

“So,” he said, lowering his voice. “Let’s talk specifics, darling. For something like this, we’ll want some boundaries.”

She blinked out of her racing thoughts and nodded at him. That tracked from her limited research, and it was a reassuring sign that he’d brought it up.

“What’s something that would be a hard no for you, my dear?”

“Um… public. Doing anything in public or public places.”

He nodded at her, continued to listen, waiting for more, it seemed.

More hard no’s. She tried to run through a mental list of what she imagined might be a big nope for people but found that she was drawing a blank on most of it. Clearly she had no issue with blood. Or bondage. Or begging. Or a bit of pain now and again.

Astarion was waiting with a sideways grin and a cocked eyebrow.

“Um. Don’t humiliate me in public either?”

He chuckled quietly.

“The in public thing seems to be the takeaway here,” he said. “May I pick what you wear in public, darling?”

Jen thought about this for a moment. Both herself and the gremlin had a moment where they looked at each other and wondered what the hell he intended to dress her in.

“As long as my bits are covered, and I don’t freeze to death, it should be ok?”

“Good,” he purred. “As for me, no mentions of my past, especially the time before I won my freedom.”

“Understood,” she responded. That one was a no brainer. “You mean literal mentions, right, because, well, with your scar…”

She wasn’t sure how to phrase the question. His scar was very much there, a part of him, always under her hands as they were intimate, or as she sunscreened him, or ran an idle hand across his back on the sofa.

He seemed to understand her confusion, and sighed, eyes far away a moment.

“Touching my back is alright, as long as that’s what you’re doing, just as you have until now. You’ve not crossed a boundary yet.”

She nodded at him.

“Mmm, anything else for you then,” she asked tentatively.

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

“No inserting anything anywhere without express permission.”

Jen stared at him, horrified at the thought.

“Gods, of course not.” She paused, having lost every last bit of her appetite suddenly. “Can we take a walk or something before tonight?”

He sat back, meeting her gaze.

“You’re still alright with this, yes?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I…”

“You’re sure?”

She could tell that he was trying to read her sudden hesitation and she didn’t want him to get the wrong message from it.

“It’s not about tonight. I just… that last hard no, just… knowing about…”

She stumbled to an awkward halt.

“Oh,” he replied, with a tiny smile and sad eyes. “You’re a sweetheart, darling.”

“It makes me murderously angry and unbearably sad and I don’t think that’s the vibes you’re after. I just-”

“A walk, then,” he interrupted.

“Hug first. Then walk?”

“I suppose,” he said, standing, smile changing into a genuine one. “We’ll go walk around, take in the sights, perhaps a beverage, and then? I get to make you mine.”

Aaaaaand…

The gremlin was back.

She stood and took him into a deep hug. She held him firm, as though she could squeeze any lingering sorrow out of him.

“Let’s go,” he nagged, wiggling free. “We’ve got a walk to take. Things to see! Fun to have!”

Notes:

Was a trip to Vegas strictly necessary? No. Once the idea of Spawn Astarion roleplaying as Ascended Astarion in Las Vegas occurred to me was I going to cut it for being only tenuously related to the rest of the story? Also no. Am I the least bit sorry for the next few chapters? Again, no.

It is actually going help a few plot points along, as it turns out. I can promise with as much certainty as I have the power to use that we'll get the Tav reveal this month, probably well before the end of it. But in the meantime, enjoy Las Vegas with these two.

Also, if you're curious and/or want a visual reference for the room, it's based on the Cypress Suite at the Bellagio.

Chapter 40: Mine Forever

Summary:

Jen and Astarion begin their little game together on their first evening in Vegas.

Notes:

This is smut. NSFW chapter!

Specific content tags applicable here are:
- Rough sex
- Leaning more into D/s play

40. Mine Forever

Jen listened to the quiet hum of the curtains closing themselves, blocking out all the light and chaos of the Las Vegas strip, ushering the darkness in.

They’d not started anything yet. Not a damn thing.

But her heart roared like the fountains out front had not an hour ago, commanding the ebb and flow of the blood throughout her body. She swore she could feel the pressure within her veins building, perceptibly straining against her ear drums and finger tips as though it knew.

As though it was already seeking that other being it had grown so familiar with.

They’d picked up a bottle of wine from a shop on the ground floor on their way back in, and Astarion had placed it and a single glass on the small coffee table by the sofa. That was for him, darling, to celebrate with later. The dark look in his gaze as he proclaimed this had dissuaded her from clarifying any further.

Hell, even the damn gremlin felt subdued by the timbre of the night as they’d gotten their fresh air, their indulgences, and retreated to their suite.

And despite all this, or perhaps because of it, Jen stood steeping in a mixture of calm, fascination, and anticipation. Her usually overactive mind, the one that leapt from idea to idea like a skipping stone across a creek, was focused, far more akin to an array of ripples radiating out from a single thrown pebble, as she watched the last sliver of neon vanish behind blackout curtains.

“What’s the rough outline for the evening,” she asked quietly, staring at where the distant chaos had been moments before. 

“Come sit with me, darling,” Astarion entreated behind her. “We’ll talk it all through because I know you and I know you’ll need to first.”

She nodded, turned to see him lounging on the chaise end of the sofa, looking up at her patiently. He smiled reassuringly and patted the cushion beside him, much as she had done early in their acquaintance.

Jen walked over and slid down next to him, making him shuffle to get comfortable as she leaned against him, calmed by his nearness.

“Here,” he purred, inviting her to lay lengthwise across the cushions, her head in his lap. Jen took him up on the offer, comforted by the familiar silly tap he placed on her nose as she relaxed into him.

“Were you just going to use that whole cutscene as a script?”

“More of an outline,” he replied. “Was there anything in particular you’re concerned about, my dear?”

Jen considered this, flashing back to a moment she’d saved in a dozen iterations and had stashed away in multiple locations and formats for… easy access.

The gremlin poked her and she sighed at it.

“The gremlin would like you to know that if you don’t make me kneel it’s going to riot,” she muttered, looking away from him and out into the room.

“Oh,” Astarion purred, tone changing. “So this isn’t about things you don’t want me to do, but more about things that you do. I’m intrigued.”

“I just want an idea of the basic shape I guess. Fun and then…”

“Ah,” he said, picking up on the unspoken question. “I take as much as you can handle. I probably won’t wake you afterward as you’re accustomed to. Instead, I’ll let you remain… dead to the world until morning. Find other ways to enjoy myself.”

He stared down at her with those radiant red eyes. The last damn thing she’d experience was that plummet straight into his hunger. Jen swallowed and shivered. His smile deepened.

“This may seem weird or not be relevant I guess or I don’t even know because this is all new to me, and I feel certifiably insane, but I’m ok with you, er, well, don’t let my lack of consciousness stop you, I guess is what I’m going for? I trust you not to take it too far if you’re into that kind of idea I guess.”

Astarion chuckled softly.

“That was an awful lot of guessing, darling.”

“Only cus I’m awkward bringing it up. I’m ok with it if you stick to what we've already done.”

“I’ll bear it in mind. Any other permissions or requests you’re seeking to give before we get started?”

Destroy me.

She cleared her throat.

“I think that covers it.”

“And you remember your three new safe words?”

“Fire, frost, stone. Yeah.”

“Good. I won’t be gagging you at any point since I’ll need you able to use them. We can do that again another time,” he added, catching her expression with a smirk.

Why the hell was she like this?

“Now what?”

“Now,” he responded, gaze sharpening and voice dropping as he looked down at her, “we have a little fun.”

Staring up at him began to feel different as she lay there, watching his expression alter from the one she’d grown so used to into something different.

His hand, which had been playing along her scalp lightly as they talked, dug deeper into her hair now, raking through it, pausing at the end of the motion in a way that suggested he didn’t want to let go.

Astarion rested his other hand on her chest, and though he didn’t hold her down with it, the implication remained. He curled his hand through her hair again, and her flesh prickled all along her scalp, down her neck, and out into the rest of her still form.

“I still can’t believe you let me do that. Killing all those people. A pleasant surprise.”

She licked her lips nervously at the words that began that all too familiar scene. Astarion continued toying with her hair and stared down at her, waiting.

She nudged herself into action.

“I-” she whispered, meeting the crimson gaze above her and swallowing. “I just wanted what was best for you.”

“You absolute sweetheart.” He purred, a sly grin creeping onto his lips. “I want what’s best for you, too, of course.”

His gaze turned darker as he focused it on her with an intensity that felt as though he was trying to slip the answer into her mind through it.

“So tell me, what can I do for my dearest pet?”

Jen’s body reacted to that particular line and its promises immediately. She shifted, eyes widening as she realized he was already treating her like his pet, too, peering down at her, stroking her hair possessively, hand resting on her, subtly poised to restrain.

A quiet sound escaped her as she found her voice, feeling herself sinking into a strangely calm and blissful frame of mind.

“I- want to stay with you. Forever. Please.”

“Ah,” he murmured. “So you want the gift of eternity? I can give you that.” 

Jen’s heart thudded against her ribs, muscles tensing as she recognized the hunger in the look he gave her next. He continued speaking, taking in the raptness she’d fallen into beneath him.

“All it would take is one more bite.” He let the words hang between them, and she began to imagine that delicious bite, yielding to him, surrendering, begging for more. The sound of Astarion’s voice snapped her attention back to himself.

“First,” he said, eyes sharpening, “let’s enjoy this warm body of yours one more time, shall we?”

He removed his hand from her chest and released her hair from his grasp.

“Up.”

Jen found herself obeying without question, sitting up and looking back at Astarion after she realized she'd simply responded without thought. His face remained still and unreadable as his eyes traced her figure.

She sat feeling around her own skull in a deafening, electric silence that had risen within her after that first command. Usually her mind was so full and loud, pulling her a thousand different directions all the time, but not now.

It was completely silent, the air within thick and still with possibility. Nothing but possibility.

“Remove your clothes,” Astarion said.

Jen reached down slowly and pulled her shirt off over her head, feeling it catch and slip free, baring her flesh for him. Against the otherworldly feeling of passivity and calmness, the fabric became everything for a moment, etching the sensation of slipping away across her as she obeyed.

Astarion sat watching, his eyes dancing with eagerness that set her entire body tingling.

Jen reached down, still in this new heady, trancelike state, and undid her jeans, sliding them down her legs, taking the socks off at the bottom, too, pausing to glance back at Astarion.

He hadn’t moved a single muscle, almost as though moving would let the lust and hunger in those watchful eyes infect the rest of him, beginning that cascade into the end when he much preferred to savor this dance first.

“Continue,” he ordered with a flick of his eyes up and down her, his voice deep and husky.

She did, rewarded and cajoled by the pleasure of his tone.

Jen crossed her arms to tug the sports bra up over her head, feeling it release, and discarded it atop her shirt before sliding her hands under the elastic of her panties and slipping them free to land on her jeans below. She sat completely unclothed now, and looked back to Astarion, mind spinning.

There was no wondering what the hell she should do, no getting distracted running after half a dozen possibilities. She was just an empty vessel, waiting for a command, filling slowly with desire after fulfilling each one.

Astarion lounged against the edge of the couch, covetous eyes tracing over her nude curves. He flicked his finger up casually, indicating that he wanted her to stand.

The imperious motion sliced through her, connected with something in her nervous system, and sent a wave of raw arousal cascading out across her. Jen shivered, hurrying to her feet.

From the flick of a single fucking finger.

Jen stared at him as she stood naked before him, could feel just how enraptured her face must have looked, and Astarion’s expression finally shifted, breaking into a deeply satisfied grin as he rose from the couch.

“I think I’d like to have you against the window,” he said, stepping toward her.

“What if someone sees,” she responded, feeling as though it was wrong to speak back, even in her softest tone.

Astarion stalked over to her, causing every damn cell, every nerve and neuron, to fasten itself onto him and him alone as he moved toward her.

“They won’t,” he said, spinning her around and marching her toward the curtains.

She remembered something suddenly.

“Frost,” she whispered, catching a flicker of recognition in his touch. He slowed his step, grip on her shoulders becoming gentle.

“They won’t see, darling,” he said softly back. “The windows are mirrored.”

“Oh,” she whispered, remembering.

Astarion drew the curtain back, thrusting it behind them, as he pushed her forward.

Jen gasped as she felt the cold press of glass against her breasts. Astarion took her hands in his, lifted her arms above her head, and held them splayed against the window, pressing his body into her, trapping her there.

A groan escaped her as he bent to kiss the nape of her neck, lifting his leg to press his knee beneath her. Jen ground herself onto it appreciatively.

“Always so eager,” he mumbled in her ear as he traced a hand down her arm, fingertips walking their way down her flanks, down her hips, sliding between her and the glass, seeking.

Her arm started to slide down the glass.

“Ah-ah,” Astarion whispered before cracking his voice like a whip. “Leave it.”

“Shit,” she hissed, obeying instantly.

He chuckled and leaned close to her ear again, took it between his teeth, bit and sucked, just a little taste of what she knew he’d be doing to her neck later. Jen groaned again and pressed herself harder against his thigh, breath hissing out of her as she sought to grind her aching need into pleasure against him.

Astarion kissed his way across her neck, and she felt a tiny, quick prick of pain. A delicate little bead of blood formed slowly where he’d nipped her.

“Like candy,” he whispered, a quick flick of his tongue stealing the morsel away.

Jen felt her knees weaken, mouth open as she pressed harder against his thigh.

“Hors d'oeuvres,” he said, as his hand slid in front of her and a finger slid across the hood of her clit. “For the both of us.”

Jen’s eyelids fluttered closed as Astarion toyed with her, tracing delicate circles across her most sensitive spot as she rolled her hips atop him.

“You’ll stay just like this for me,” he breathed. “I want the world to know who owns you now.”

Jen felt him step back from her and bit back her protestation, eyes flashing open, noticing but not seeing the riot of color and shapes far below.

“Beg.”

A jolt went through her.

“Please,” she whimpered for him. “Please don’t stop.”

“Good girl,” he purred. Jen could feel her heart leap at the praise, her muscles tighten at the tone, her mind begging for a chance to earn it again.

“Now, if you’re going to be my consort, you’ll have to be wonderfully obedient. And you will, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. And what is my proper title?”

She hesitated, knowing the word he wanted to hear, but not yet able to form it for him.

“Proud. Stubborn,” he mused, pressing against her again, sharpening her breath against the cold pane of glass in front of them. “It’s a difficult notion to stomach at first, darling, but you’ll get there.”

He chuckled again, and his dark tone set her hair on end.

“Soon enough, you won’t have a choice. But… until then… some persuasion.”

She exhaled sharply as he plunged a pair of fingers back through her folds, playing just inside her entrance, before drawing them back across her, slick with her own need. Her voice escaped in a deep moan as he started to caress her again.

Astarion removed his hand again, staying pressed against her, using his tongue to break the seal on the petite wound he’d made on her neck to savor another taste.

“Delicious as always.” His breath washed across her neck, his fingers pausing in their ministrations. “And what about you? Would you like some more?”

“Please,” she whined, her hips hitching back against him.

“Then what do you say,” he replied, voice low and imperious.

“Pl-please, master,” she whispered.

He moaned at the sound of it and Jen very nearly forgot to keep her hands against the glass.

“I can deny you nothing,” he whispered, sliding his fingers home again to work her in earnest now as Jen spasmed in his grasp. Her eyes slid closed as her jaw slackened, lost in the rapturous sensation of his touch.

She almost didn’t feel him slip down her back, wasn’t even aware of what he was doing, until his mouth met the bare flesh above her cheeks, sending her glutes and thighs seizing in a shock of pleasure. He bit lightly at her side, just enough for her to feel the shape of his teeth.

Jen moaned, struggling to keep herself against the window as he’d commanded, certain this would all stop if she dared disobey him.

His mouth continued nipping and kissing as a hand slid around her thigh, changing her stance, widening it and moving her hips back from the glass so he could slide in and access her with his tongue.

Her breath whined out of her as he licked his way through her folds. Jen found her fingers clawing against the glass, desperate for purchase and finding none, as she fought to remain standing against a sensation that was bringing her to her knees. She braced herself against the window, drowning in Astarion’s teasing, greedy mouth, shaking violently as she realized the climb to the precipice was nearing its end. 

The rhythm he set was inescapable, the pulsing curl of his fingers inside her perfect, the dance of his tongue and caress of his lips maddening. 

Jen’s torso began to jerk against the glass as she gave into her need to ride his fingers as he unravelled her. Her breath hitched again and she felt the heat burst forth, releasing a wave of scalding pleasure throughout her body.

She didn’t have time to revel in it - Astarion yanked her off of the window, spun, and tossed her onto the bed behind them as she moaned and gasped, writhing and grabbing at the sheet. Jen opened shocked eyes to see him staring down at her.

He grinned.

“Mmm. Your first little death before your final one. Catch your breath a moment, my pet. I have to prepare for the main event.”

Jen lay there naked, trembling, coming back into her body as Astarion sauntered back to the waiting bottle of wine, popping the cork and inhaling. She closed her eyes and shivered naked atop the sheets, sinking back inside to explore the blissful, humming emptiness within as she lay there waiting for his next words to beckon her over.

“I think it’s time,” he declared at last, turning to rest crimson eyes upon her. “Are you ready, darling?”

He laughed quietly as she lay there staring, pondering this.

“Come closer,” he purred.

She rose and walked toward him, absolutely hypnotized by the promise of what was to come. He held out a hand and she stopped.

They stood before each other, staring, she naked and shaking, him clothed and collected. Jen bit back a breathy sigh as he tilted his head, eyebrow raising, lips curling into a smirk, eyes alight with anticipation.

Please. Gods please!

Jen knew her face was screaming that one thought back at him, could feel it in the tense little lines, the wildness of her own eyes, the way she couldn’t keep her lips from parting ever so slightly to breathe.

He raised his hand before her, finger outstretched, and spoke as he brought his hand down slowly. 

“On your knees, darling.”

She couldn’t bite back the tiny whimper she knew he heard.

Jen felt herself start to shake as she lowered herself, breathed in deeply between the first knee touching the carpet and the second one joining it, exhaling as it did. She settled back onto her ankles and stared straight ahead of her, licking her lips before finally, slowly, lifting her gaze up to see Astarion towering over her.

Surveying her. Drinking in the sight of her kneeling before him. She shook harder, tried and failed to keep her breaths quiet as they rattled out of her trembling body.

“Tonight,” he said, stealing the last little wandering whispers of her breath away, “I shall drink every drop of your blood. Own your body. Kill your mind.”

He paused, crouching down to her, dark rubies holding her gaze until she couldn’t bear it any longer, and cowered before him. His rapturous exhalation hissed through her, making her bite back a whimper.

He placed his hand on her chest and she found herself caught in his eyes again, trapped by them, begging for him to keep going. Force her to the floor, pin her there, and take what was already his.

Astarion shoved her backward to the carpet and stood above her as she settled onto her back before him.

“I’ve thought about this moment ceaselessly,” he said, standing and unbuttoning the vest, laying it across the back of the couch.

“How you’d look. How you’d feel. How you’d taste as I took everything from you.”

He pulled his turtleneck over his head, laid it atop the vest, and Jen’s mouth fell open as she watched his gorgeous figure moving impossibly high above her. He continued to speak.

“Especially how you’d taste as I snuffed out your flickering flame of mortality, replacing it with my dark gift.”

He undid the button and the zipper on his pants, slipping out of them gracefully, placing them across the rest of his clothing, and turning his gaze back to her.

“Becoming the sole thing that animates you.”

She could read the ecstasy of the thought clearly on his face now and it bound her before him more tightly than any physical touch ever could have. This was a creature in his darkest element, a creature that knew this, and knew exactly how to wield it.

He stepped over top of her and she whimpered up at him, still locked in his gaze, fascinated and wanting beneath him. 

He knelt down on top of her, his weight trapping her just as it had back on Christmas Eve when they’d been busy losing themselves on that little twin bed.

“Remove them,” he whispered, rising to his knees, pushing his hips forward.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Jen found the synapse that made her arms work and reached her hands up to his hips, resting them on the cloth of his undergarments for a brief moment. She slipped her fingers inside the elastic and pulled gently, working the waist down over his cheeks first, and then freeing the rest of him, mind slipping at the sight.

He lifted a knee and took over for her, removing them the rest of the way and tossing them aside before leaning low over top of her, bringing his face just above her own.

“This is only going to hurt a little,” he whispered. Jen’s teeth started to chatter as she felt him press against her, press down into her folds, and then penetrate her. A muted gasp left her as he forced himself in as deeply as he could.

The unbridled pleasure in his face infected her, made her shift and shake, spasming around him as her hands lay curled against an unyielding floor.

“I thought,” she breathed, “I thought you were-”

“What’s that,” he asked, eyes focusing on her, darkening, as he somehow managed to press his hips even closer, pushing himself even deeper. 

“Going to turn me,” she finished in a whisper choked with flecks of pain.

“I am, my pet” he purred, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. “But I would much rather have you like this. All of you. It’s going to be exquisite,” he sighed.

Jen whimpered through her rapid breaths, blinded anew by the darkness in his gaze and the promise of his bite.

Astarion hooked his arm around her leg, pulling it up, letting it bend at the knee. He leaned down to her neck, tugging her leg higher, shifting the angle he was penetrating at, and a strangled noise escaped her lips.

“Yes,” he hissed, closing his eyes, pulling himself almost entirely out in a slow, slick motion before snapping himself all the way back in, breathy groan sighing a duet with her sharp cry.

He looked down at her, lip curling, and did it again, sucking a breath in through his clenched teeth as she yelped.

“It’s not easy, you know,” he said, punctuating his musing with another thrust. “Being a spawn.”

Another thrust, striking deliciously against that boundary of pain and pleasure.

“You’re lucky I’m so… generous.”

Yes! Yes, gods.

“So… magnanimous.”

Oh. Oh please don't stop.

“So pleased with all that you’ve given me.”

Yours. All of it!

“And now, I’m going to take everything.”

Jen groaned in longing as he left himself buried deep and ground his hips against hers. She pressed back against him, desperate for more. He drew in a sharp breath.

“Because that is what you want, isn’t it?”

She broke into a sobbing whine, mind immediately screaming the answer and begging him to ask the question. Begging him to ask it, to demand it of her. 

“To be mine forever?”

“Y-y-yesss!”

A keening ‘oh’ escaped her as he thrust into her again and ground himself in deep circles inside her. Astarion dropped his mouth to hers.

“I thought so,” he sighed into her, dragging his mouth from her lips to her jaw and resting on her neck.

Astarion’s eyes sharpened with desperate hunger, hunger that dripped down to lips that curled up to reveal sharp fangs beneath a savage grin. Her stomach somersaulted and she convulsed around him, eliciting a dark laugh.

“What’s a little pain, after all, when I’m going to give you an eternity of pleasure?”

His eyes locked on hers as she felt herself surrender. Begged for what was to come like a foolish little broken thing.

And gods, what was he waiting for?

You. To tell him.

Jen swallowed, parted her lips a moment, and whispered on a breath so thin it sliced her soul wide open for him.

“Let it hurt.”

She saw the raw animalistic excitement suffuse his features before the hand beside her grabbed a fistful of hair and jerked her head back, snapping her mind back into that empty nirvana with a jolt of pain.

His hand yanked, making the roots ache as he dragged her head to the side, baring the canvas his lips and tongue were desperate to paint red. 

Jen saw his eyes glowing with excitement in her peripheral vision as she convulsed with need. The jerk of her torso sent a new wave of confused pleasure through her core as it forced her up his cock, forced him uncomfortably deep inside.

“Like that, do you,” he hissed, drawing himself back and ramming back into her, striking the spot that never knew if it granted pain or pleasure or an inextricably twisted mixture of the two. 

“Please,” she whimpered, unsure what she was begging for, but knowing he would grant it if she begged. “Master, please!”

The words fell effortlessly from her lips. Astarion’s next breath came out deep and resonant, his hand tightening in her hair, hips twitching at the pinnacle of his next thrust. 

His crimson eyes blazed down at her, and he struck her neck in a flash of speed so fast that Jen felt his fangs in her flesh before she realized he had moved.

Astarion began to drink, sucking greedily as her back arched beneath him, driving her up his length all over again. She wailed in riotous desire as she felt the distant thunder of a heart not her own pulse through her.

Yes. Yes!

Astarion broke his lips free of her in a gasp, blood oozing over them and trailing down his chin as he finished swallowing the mouthful. He stared down at her, his prize, and began to thrust himself into her again, leaning down close, changing the angle, going deeper, face set in rapt lines as he watched her crumble beneath him.

She felt a mouth slick with blood press against the corner of hers as he exhaled into her. He pulled back and spoke in broken breaths, lashes fluttering.

“Check in, with me, darling. Element.”

“Fire,” she panted, some detached part of her smiling as it saw his relief. She licked her lips.

“Ah-ah,” he said, voice changed, grabbing her by the chin. “Every drop belongs to me.”

He held her face still as he leaned in and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, repossessing the blood he’d left there moments before.

She nodded against his hand, agreeing, apologizing, trembling, as he lifted his lips from hers, staring deep into her eyes from inches away. Jen lay frozen, locked in that strange floating ecstasy as Astarion examined his feast.

She broke first, and squirmed, moaning, pushing up against him ache be damned, still unable to look away from that gaze, a gaze that held no trace of kindness or care. There was nothing but pure savagery left, a look that craved subservience or obliteration. Either. Both.

His grasp on her chin tightened as he forced her to turn to the side, baring her neck again. He drove his cock into her with a vicious thrust, continuing through the motion with his body, driving his fangs deep into her once more.

She screamed, and Astarion’s hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her as he bit down, two dozen stabs of pain making her well aware of the grip of more teeth than just his two fangs on her skin. Her head lolled further to the side as she whined, her lips now freed from his imperious gesture, free to give him the ragged, wordless praise he wanted from her.

Astarion's tongue roved the mound of skin he had clenched in his jaws, ushering every drop of blood into himself, teasing pleasure out of the pain he inflicted on her.

Jen knew that if he’d been seeking to truly end her tonight, that mark would be deep and permanent, an outward sign of ownership to all who beheld them afterward.

Gods, it might be anyway.

The very thought set her hips trembling back up against him. Astarion answered her involuntary press with a fierce thrust of his own. And then another. And another. Gods it hurt so fucking good.

He was going to split her in two and lap her off the floor and all she wanted to do was scream in surrender as he did.

Jen began to lose focus of the room around her, edges of her vision fading softly to black as he ravaged her.

The pain and the pleasure tore at each other, tore at her as she shook and arched beneath him.

This delicious, delirious, twisted pleasure was going to be the last thing she ever felt, and she realized it was everything she wanted it to be. She clung to the sheds of her sanity and screamed for him again.

For Astarion.

This Astarion who wasn’t seeking her pleasure, but was seeking to own her. To set her screaming so that her cries would feed that dark ego inside of him, caress the beast that yearned for her pain and prostration at his hands and feet. To make her throb and pulse and shatter not because it would send her to the peak of ecstasy, but because his power to do so was the key to everything he craved. 

All she had to do was let go. Let go and it would all be theirs. Let go and she would be his.

Let go, that other heartbeat cajoled.

Let go, it commanded.

Let go.

Jen screamed as she climaxed, swore to all the gods that ever existed that her heart fully stopped beating, that every nerve felt its final surge of electricity, that the darkness racing toward her was eternity and it was here to take her at last.

She gasped and cried out, fingers digging into something that must have been Astarion -- there was nothing else in the world -- writhing in anguished pleasure as he bit harder, still thrusting mercilessly into her, his deafening heartbeat circling tighter and tighter, washing away the world in a tide of crimson and black, replacing it with that familiar liminal space that only they inhabited.

Their space. Only them. Only him and this sensation ending bliss.

Notes:

Spawn Astarion as Ascended Astarion is going to be leaning into the dominance and control elements on their trip as Jen explores the submissive and obedient side of things. I think he'd honestly enjoy the hell out of it once he was far enough removed to explore the idea in a safe way, and Jen is more than happy to hand him that kind of control.

It's not going to be all smut in Vegas, but, (mentally counting at how much we ended up with...) there's two more smut scenes in the next few chapters. Balanced out with some standard teasing and fun. Aaaaaand I'm going to get this one published and whisk myself off to work.

Hope you have a wonderful morning (or afternoon, friends across the Atlantic)! :)

Chapter 41: 41. A Waking Dream

Summary:

Jen wakes and finds herself in a weird state, so the pair check in with each other before continuing their little game.

41. A Waking Dream

Light. Light and softness and pain and the metallic aftertaste of blood. All of these things swirled together as Jen found her eyes open and refocusing on the world around her.

She wasn’t sure what woke her until she saw the fountains wooshing into the morning air outside the window at the foot of the bed.

What the fucking hell was the waking dream that was last night?

She had felt adrift and anchored, peaceful and rabid. It was intense and wonderful and… 

What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me?

Really? Really? Getting objectified and railed by Astarion was her stupid gremlin’s idea of nirvana?

The gremlin shrugged.

Jen sighed, lay still against the pillow, listening for the sound of Astarion, as the gremlin giggled.

Her ‘master.’

“Good morning, little love,” came the sultry voice from behind the divider. He paused and then spoke again, voice low and commanding.

“Come to me.”

Jen rolled out of the bed in a daze, fell to the floor, attempted to stand, and stumbled over to him. Astarion met her halfway to the couch and caught her.

“Easy,” he said as she collapsed against him.

She slid down to her knees, dragging her hands down his arms and pant legs, pressing her forehead against his thighs, just fucking breathing, trying to orient herself again.

She heard something being said from somewhere above her, in a voice laden with concern.

“Fire,” she whispered questioningly at him.

“No, darling, let’s pause for a moment. Until I see you’re making a little more sense, we’re taking this slow.”

Jen released him, sat back on her heels and sucked down a deep breath.

“I’m ok,” she said.

“Alright. You’re sitting on the floor at my feet, my dear. Are you sure?”

“I’m ok.”

“Shall we sit on the sofa and talk a little?”

She shook her head at him. The floor was nice and solid, and her legs were apparently not.

“I suppose I’ll join you on the floor, then,” he said, sitting down in front of her, appraising her. “How are you feeling, darling?”

“I’m good.”

“So you keep saying.”

Gods, she knew why he was worried. She was speaking in two syllable sentences for fuck’s sake. She looked up and met his eye.

“I’m fine. Just… hard to describe. Now and…”

She kept flashing back to the last thing she could remember from last night, unsure if it was truly the last or if the random snippets that winked in and out of existence in her skull were real or imagined. She met his eye again, unsettled that she was feeling something not unakin to worshipful awe right now.

That was probably healthy, right?

“Whatever the hell you did to me, wherever the fuck you sent my brain, I really liked it.”

“I let loose a little,” he said. His face wore a mask of cautious reserve, but a hint of a smile peeked out beneath it. “Focused more on what those dark whispers wanted you to do. Wanted to do to you.”

“It just… I don’t even have words. Like for once in my life I didn’t have to think to exist?” Jen paused, wondering about the other side of the equation as her mind caught up with what he’d said. “And you’re ok, too? It didn’t get too intense or anything?”

Astarion was grinning at her, something clearly flashing through his head as his amusement shone through.

“I am wonderful, darling, thank you. I feel fantastic after last night. Though, honestly, I’ll feel a bit better if you can stand up and sit on the couch like a sane individual.”

Jen took a breath, rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, then stood, slowly this time, careful not to slosh whatever blood was left in her body around perilously. She was able to keep her feet this time, and reached a hand down to offer to help Astarion up.

“I’m really, really fine, just…”

Literally mind blown? Legit fucked silly?

You are not saying that to him.

“I promise I’m fine.”

He grinned, but stood on his own before taking the proffered hand in his and planting a kiss on it, eyes glinting again.

“You’ve convinced me, my dear. For now. You’re alright carrying on today, then?”

“Yes.”

Please.

“Don’t forget to use your elements.”

“I won’t,” she assured him again.

Jen watched Astarion’s demeanor shift in front of her eyes. The easy, casual stance became stiffer, more imperious. His level gaze shifted as his chin lifted, leaving sharp eyes to stare down at her haughtily. Jen found herself captivated again, heart trembling as she realized he was looking at her like a coveted possession, sizing her up much the way she’d take in a particularly interesting fossil in her collection.

“Look at you, then,” he purred. She said nothing, just held his gaze in waiting silence. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what I did to you?”

“I… I remember you biting me, as you-” She glanced away, trying and failing to find another way to phrase it. “As you took me. And then falling into darkness. Nothing else.”

“Yes,” he breathed, stepping close, taking her arms in his hands and holding them. “I made you mine in every possible way.”

Jen stared a moment, stood tingling all over, struggling to find words.

Ok, but you have to actually do something and engage with him if this is gonna work today.

What would she say as a fresh spawn, awoken to find everything very much the same, but so impossibly different?

Her growling stomach helped her out.

“I’m hungry,” she whispered, pleased to see Astarion take this in and lean into it.

“You will be. Eternally. It’ll never quite be satisfied, but it will get easier. Perhaps we should find my new consort a meal, then, hm?”

“Please?”

“I suppose I can have the servants bring someone up. Let’s see…”

He released her all at once, from his grasp and his gaze, and Jen felt the air go out of her as she slumped forward in relief. She hadn’t realized how closely she’d been mirroring his stiff body language.

“I could go for a nice steak and egg breakfast.” He continued staring down at the room service menu. Jen walked over to him, attempted to peek past his shoulder, but he spun, blocking it from sight.

“Yes. That will work,” he proclaimed as he carried the menu away from her over to the room phone, dialed a number, and spoke up as someone answered.

“Yes. Good morning. Could I order the steak and egg breakfast please? A side of fruit would be fine. Yes. Room 15001. Thank you.”

Jen blinked as he hung up and placed the menu down beside the phone.

“Steak and eggs,” he declared, watching her mischievously.

Testing me.

So this was the game today? Jen grinned, wondering how long she could keep a lid on her protests as he tried to find ways to crack her resolve. This was going to be a good time. Certainly a better birthday game than pin the tail on the donkey.

“Wonderful choice,” Jen said with a smile, moving to grab her portable kettle and bring it over to the sink to fill with water for tea. She unpacked a few small ziplocks of loose leaf and selected one of the Earl Grey varieties from the Stockyards. Astarion didn’t interfere with this process, which was good, because Jen would absolutely have dropped a ‘stone’ on him if he tried to get in the way of her morning tea.

“Ah, yes,” he purred. “Do make sure you’re staying hydrated, my pet. It would be terribly inconvenient for you to grow faint today. We’ve quite a busy schedule.”

Jen blew on the hot water as the tea started steeping, mind catching on his last sentence.

“We do?”

“Yes. We’ve an appointment at the spa set for ten o’clock. After that, we’ll be going shopping to pick a more appropriate outfit for you for the show this evening. Can’t have you wearing cotton like a commoner.

“Then, there is a wonderful afternoon tapas place nearby so I can enjoy a quick little pick me up. Afterwards we’ll see about getting your makeup and hair in order.”

Ok, well, that was a lot to take in before caffeine. Jen felt herself lean back, her eyes narrowing. Astarion noticed, too, and paused, watching her with a look that dared her to question him. She swallowed and nodded.

“And after that, the show. Once the show’s done, well, I’m flexible really, as long as it involves you naked.”

He lapsed into silence, watching her recover from his last words and take this all in. He had literally planned the entire damn day out for them, and the basic shape of it seemed to be whipping his new spawn into presentable shape and then enjoying himself out in the Las Vegas night with her as arm candy.

“Spa?” 

“Yes. A facial, waxing, and a manicure.”

“No massage?”

“You know I don’t like massages, darling,” he said, voice dropping dangerously. Gods that tone was menacing.

“Sorry,” she whispered, clinging to her tea, dropping her eyes down to the table. Astarion strode over to stand behind her chair, resting his hands on her shoulders and squeezing them tightly.

And fucking hell, she liked what that was doing to her insides. He played with a lock of her hair.

“Perhaps if my darling little consort behaves today, I’ll look into it for her tomorrow.”

She tried to hide her burgeoning arousal by asking another question.

“So… shopping?”

That idea in particular was making her nervous. She’d been shopping with Astarion before and had quite a good grasp on what all it entailed. Spawn Astarion was bad enough, in her opinion. ‘Ascended’ Astarion was going to be something out of a nightmare, especially since he intimated that it was her that they’d be shopping for.

Jen considered all the clothing that Astarion had ever mentioned liking on her and decided that this might be the point at which the obedient little consort she apparently had no trouble automatically becoming might start to crack a little.

“Yes. I’ll deal with your unfortunate obsession with dressing like an urchin until then, but I expect you to look the part of a lord’s consort after that. Understood?”

She nodded skeptically at him. They held each other’s gaze and she knew he, too, had identified this as the first real point of friction for their fun little experiment.

“Tapas and then…”

“Makeup. Hair. Preparation for our evening out together.”

Were there places that just did makeup? Makeup artists were a thing, of course -- she’d had to deal with one at her sister’s wedding -- but were there makeup salons? She nodded, still puzzling this out as a knock sounded through the room.

“Be a dear and get the door,” he said, stepping back from her. Jen looked at him for a moment, gremlin purring happily at another direct order and decided she'd try something.

“Of course, my lord,” she smiled, rising. She hid her triumphant look as she watched a flicker of arousal slide behind Astarion’s eyes. Mmmhm. Two could play at this. Jen went to the door, retrieved the breakfast, and brought it back to the table, setting everything out, pretending she had any clue at all how to actually set a proper table. At least there was only a single fork, spoon, and knife.

She noted Astarion’s little sideways grin with pleasure.

Yeah… she may have been facing a day of being drowned in scalding desire as he ordered her around, but this man seemed just as susceptible to her on the other end of this deal, and she was going to do her damnedest to not let him forget it.

---

By the time it should have been time for tapas, Jen was losing her damn mind. They had been to no less than half a dozen stores. She’d tried on so many outfits and dresses and shoes that she was ready to drop to her knees, crawl over to Astarion, and grovel before him, begging him to declare one of them perfect already.

That thing with her tongue that she could only do for like two minutes? She’d find a way to do it for ten if he’d just release her from this torment.

She was completely, totally certain that he was torturing her like this on purpose and that he was enjoying himself enormously today.

The spa in the morning had been heavenly, she’d had to agree. She’d never had a facial done before and she felt positively glowing afterwards, completely ready to take on whatever he had in store next. This had proven to be false confidence.

Jen stood in front of Astarion, wearing a single shouldered, navy blue dress with one side of the skirt hiked up to an almost uncomfortable height on her thigh. She closed her eyes and cringed as she heard him sigh.

“This one just won’t do, either.”

Pleeease, she heard herself sob internally.

She breathed out, expelled as much of the frustration as she could with that breath, and looked up at him, fastening the smile back on her face as Astarion smirked at her, fully knowing how unbearable he was being.

She was not going to break. Not yet.

“You know best,” she murmured, spinning to return to the fitting room.

She removed the offending garment, chucked it on the floor, heard a soft snort from outside the fitting room, and picked it up, hanging it sullenly alongside far too many other discarded options.

“Did you have any others for me to try, my lord,” she asked through the closed door, voice sickly sweet, barely holding shy of sarcastic asshole mode.

“Was that all of them?” He sighed. “I suppose we’ll just have to try another boutique. Alas, we may have to skip tapas after all.”

“It was all of them,” Jen confirmed, mourning the loss of tapas as she scrambled back into the yoga pants he’d immediately put her in this morning. She’d managed to retain her tee shirt, but mostly because it was covered with a new jacket he’d bought her that he claimed dressed the look up.

Whatever.

The well worn sneakers had been replaced with some kind of black boot, but those she found she was actually fond of. They looked pretty sharp and were very comfortable, it turned out. Now, the earrings he’d stuck her in when he discovered that she did have pierced ears -- a holdover from trying to fit in back in middle school -- she could have done without. They looked nice enough but it was weird to feel the weight of something swinging in her ear lobes constantly.

“Seems there’s another shop just up the way, my pet,” he proclaimed as she exited the fitting room. “Let’s try there next.”

He caught her eye, watching for that moment he was waiting for. That moment she’d protest. She held his gaze and responded with a smile.

“Of course.”

He grinned back at her, hooked his arm in hers, and began to saunter up the way. Once inside the shop in question, Jen held her arms out obligingly as she was loaded down with another round of dresses.

She found herself glad for a moment to breathe alone again behind the door of another nearly identical fitting room as she glanced through the row of options. There was nothing for it but to slog through or give up, and she was not going to give up. She held two out in front of her, a thin little red thing, cut very high, and a black and silver dress that at least had a little more length to it.

Jen decided to try the second dress first, and slipped into it, contorting her arms to zip the damn thing shut as far as she could up her back. She’d gotten it most of the way, at least enough that it was staying on, and turned to glance at the mirror.

The torso of it was made of black satin, one of the few fabrics she could actually reliably identify, and it fit her tighter than a facial mask, clinging to her and moving as she moved. The skirt fell to her knees, on average. It was cut square, oriented in such a way that the bottom hung in sharp peaks and silky valleys, bedecked with a swirling silver pattern reminiscent of a bandanna. 

Jen spun a quick circle, feeling the hem swirl out around her with a smile. She stopped spinning suddenly and stared at herself in the mirror. 

For the first time in ages, she was enamored with a dress, with how she looked and felt in it. The boots probably wouldn’t quite do with this, though, she figured, so she slipped them and her socks off and took herself in again, tilting her hips, smoothing her hands over the fabric and admitting something unbelievable.

She wanted this dress.

The problem was going to be Mr. Ascended Fancy Pants out there and his absurd standards. Which meant that if she wanted this one, she was going to have to sell it.

Jen unlocked the door of the fitting room and pushed the door open, staying hidden inside a moment longer before prancing forth to the tri-fold mirror at the end of the row. She spun again and waltzed down to the entrance where Astarion sat waiting.

“Ah,” he exclaimed, sitting up. “And there it is. Come here.”

Jen swirled the flowing skirt with a twist of her hips, ensuring that the delight she felt in the motion of the fabric shone through as she watched it, enamored all over again with the color and the pattern and the silky caress of the garment as it moved around her.

Astarion rested a hand on her hip, peering down at her as she settled into his grasp.

“Oh this fabric is marvelous on you,” he breathed, running his hand a little lower. He turned her around to finish zipping the dress, fastening the eyelet she’d not managed to find, then nudged her back out in front of him, eyes wandering over every little detail.

“I approve.”

Oh thank the gods.

“Now,” he said, gesticulating at her with his hand, “we’ll need to find accessories for this little vision. We’ll need shoes, of course, and more appropriate jewelry. A nice handbag, too, ought to suit it nicely.”

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

Ok. That was for future her to deal with.

“But the dress,” she whispered, holding her breath.

“The dress is yours, my treasure.”

“And, um, what’s wrong with these earrings,” she asked, trying to make it sound like an earnest question and not a protestation.

Astarion held her gaze silently long enough that she knew he heard the complaint nestled in there. What was more, the way his eyes examined her face began to make her exceedingly nervous. That was the expression he wore when he was working something out, something that generally meant she was cooked.

“Those are junk,” he stated dismissively. “Costume jewelry for everyday wear. You need something showstopping for tonight.”

She watched the smile spread across his face with a sense of dread.

“Yes,” he mused. “Let’s finish up here. I believe we’ve passed quite a few jewelry shops.”

Jen felt the stab of discomfort immediately. Expensive jewelry was a complete waste of money as far as she was concerned, and jewelry stores were rife with overpriced baubles that she had zero interest in.

And her endeariating companion had pieced this together.

He smiled winsomely at her.

Shit.

She cleared her throat.

“If you insist on showering me with trinkets, who am I to decline,” she said, trying to sound unconcerned.

“Who indeed,” he purred. “I think, to get the full effect, we’ll need to get you into that dress first. So let’s find my darling little consort some appropriate footwear and then we’ll worry about the finishing touches.”

Notes:

This chapter was, like, twice as long as my typical chapter length, which I really only noticed when editing. I've split it into two, which means we've got an extra chapter coming in later this week. Yay!

I've also started to button up a few important scenes we've been working toward and I am really, really liking how they're turning out. A not insignificant chunk of them have been largely plotted and written for a solid month or more now, so the work is mostly tying them nicely together and polishing them up.

The fact that it's coming together has got me pretty hyped, so the keyboard's been on fire recently. I'm not going to promise a post-heavy week or two, but I'm certainly hoping for it because I've definitely got the bug right now!

Chapter 42: 42. From the Muck

Summary:

The pair continue their day in Las Vegas as Astarion puts the finishing touches on Jen for the evening.

42. From the Muck

The pair abandoned the rest of the dresses in the fitting room and made their way over to yet another nearby shoe store, where Jen suffered through several fittings of heeled, strappy, nonsense before Astarion deemed a pair appropriate. Not perfect, mind you, but they’d do for the dress and the occasion. He was more concerned with what she wore around her neck, anyway, and they had limited time after all.

She managed to sweet talk him into a snack afterward as a celebration for finding the perfect dress at last. It was a snack that she had desperately needed by then, but Astarion was a man on a mission, and absolutely did not want to slow down for anything today, it seemed.

She’d eaten her hard won prize as they crossed the street back to the Bellagio, where Astarion hurried her through the lobby -- no time for browsing now, my treasure -- and up to their suite to change.

Jen had taken over the sauna bathroom, the one she had been informed was hers to ‘make a mess of as she saw fit.’ She’d left her handful of toiletries scattered all over the counter in a little act of rebellion against the order he’d been imposing on the rest of her vacation.

Jen sighed as she wiggled into the dress and donned the new shoes. She was not at all pleased about wearing heels for longer than strictly necessary, but she was still stubbornly determined that she was not going to crack. She’d been up to the challenge so far, had been having a surprisingly fun time of it on the whole, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of winning this little game.

She did her best with the zipper again and observed herself in the mirror, nervously wondering if this was really coming together or not.

Astarion’s reaction as she stepped shyly out of the enormous bathroom in her new outfit sent her heart fluttering and plastered that stupid grin she’d gotten knew the feeling of so well now back onto her face.

He closed the distance between them, held her out in front of him, and simply took her in. He’d changed, too, into a proper three piece suit color coordinated to match her dress.

“Simply exquisite ,” he breathed, still staring. “Gods below, when we’ve got you all put together, you’ll be turning heads, darling.”

Jen felt herself flush brilliant red and stood with mutely curling toes before Astarion hustled her back out of their suite and into the elevator. She peeked at herself in a mirror as they strolled back out of the lobby together, felt her shoulders straighten as she realized, yeah. She looked pretty damn good in this, actually.

Astarion caught her staring at her reflection and chided her with a smile.

“Come now, my pet, let’s not keep the carriage waiting while we stare at ourselves.”

Jen raised an eyebrow at him and snorted at his grin, hooking her arm in his as he offered it.

When they arrived at the Fashion Show mall farther up the strip, she thought she just might be able to tolerate some jewelry after all. As they walked together, she’d begun to notice a lingering glance here, or an extra pause there and found herself grinning smugly, flattered by this extra attention.

Astarion of course, was in his element, strolling about as though he owned not only her, but also whatever establishment he saw fit to grace currently. 

This was certainly the case in the jewelry store they walked into. The surroundings only seemed to heighten his air of superiority, and Jen found herself slipping into his shadow, letting him take the attention he enjoyed while she tried not to let her eyes fall out of her head at the prices on some of the items in the cases before her.

“Silver,” he mused, looking her over again, eyes lingering on her neckline.

“We have sterling silver and white gold.”

“Come here, darling,” he said, waving to her as he examined the pieces before him. Jen moved over, looking down at the options he was currently perusing.

Red stones set in pendants, mostly. They must have been rubies. She wasn’t exactly surprised by this choice given the color. She examined a pear shaped stone, noting how well it matched his eyes as he looked down at it.

Astarion pointed to a necklace.

“Ah,” said the attendant. “A lariat style with a baguette cut ruby. The chains below it each end in five diamonds.”

He lifted the necklace off of its velvet seat. “Would you like to try it on, ma’am?”

No.

Astarion motioned her forward.

Jen shot him a side eye, not at all pleased by the smirk he returned her, but obeyed, stepping up to let the attendant fasten the necklace around her throat. The man stood back, and she turned toward Astarion.

“Hmm,” he mused. “I do like the lariat on you. It is a pretty stone, and there's something about the suggestion of chains… What do you think?”

He placed a hand on her back, guided her in front of a mirror. Jen looked at the necklace, how the ruby floated on her chest, hanging just below her collarbone as the diamond tails fell below.

“Well?”

“I don’t know,” she answered back.

“Hm,” Astarion responded, clearly not impressed with her answer. But it didn’t seem like his disappointment was with her so much as that he seemed to agree that the look was lacking something.

“Let’s try something else,” he said, and the attendant removed the necklace while Jen mumbled a small thanks. Astarion continued to move down the displays as the man put the rack of ruby pendants away.

Jen saw him stop walking, head tilted, staring down at something with deepening interest.

“What are these,” he asked as he tapped on the glass, sending the attendant scuttling over to see what he was looking at.

“Ah. Tahitian pearls.”

“Black pearls,” he mused, touching his chin, a little smile starting to spread. “Yes. Darling?”

Jen appeared at his side as the tray of pearls came out of the case.

“Those are pretty,” she said, looking over the elegant swirling pendants. She leaned forward, eyes lingering over a few options. “What about that one?”

“That’s an eighteen karat white gold ‘Y’ drop necklace with a cultured Tahitian pearl. Ma’am?”

Jen turned and stood still as the attendant fixed the necklace around her throat. She turned back to Astarion, whose eyes were fastened on the necklace -- and the neck under it -- before turning to view it in the mirror.

“I like this one,” she heard herself say.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“It is a pretty little thing they’ve dug out of the muck, isn’t it?” Astarion grinned at her as she blushed and looked away. “How much is it?”

“That one is twenty-seven hundred.”

Jen could not keep her surprised squawk completely contained. Astarion looked at her and grinned even bigger.

“Hmm,” he mused, eyes shining. “That’s a start. Let’s see some other options. Do you perhaps have a whole strand of these pearls?”

Jen sucked a breath down in a low hiss.

“We do! If you’ll allow me-” the man removed the pendant and replaced it and its companions back in the case. “Over here we have our collection of pearls. We have strands of baroque, round, or multi-colored, in different sizes and grades.”

Jen’s eyes fell on a strand of gorgeous silver-black pearls near the center of the case, perfectly round, and absolutely shining under the lights hidden above them. She couldn’t help but be drawn to the perfect little spheres, how they reflected the light and seemed to change color with the shadows. Astarion eyed her sidelong and pointed to the one she’d rested her gaze on.

“These,” said the man as he took the strand out to show them, “are AAAA quality round pearls, between nine and eleven millimeters. This strand is an eighteen inch princess length, clasped with white gold. May I?”

Jen swallowed and nodded her head timidly.

The attendant fastened the strand around her neck and stepped back, eyebrows raising as he did so.

Fuck me.

That was a bad sign.

Jen risked a glance at Astarion first, and quickly looked back toward the mirror the attendant slipped in front of her instead. Astarion was all but feasting already, lips parted and eyes lingering over the shape of the necklace around her throat. Jen looked at herself in the mirror and sucked down a breath.

She immediately knew why he was staring like he was. They looked absolutely ravishing on her. There was nothing to detract from her neckline. The pearls drew focus straight to it, sat delicately around it, gorgeously matched to the black and silver of the satin dress.

“How much,” he asked in a hushed tone.

“This one is sixty-seven hundred.”

“No,” said Jen automatically.

“I don’t believe that’s your decision, darling,” she heard from beside her as a hand rested on her lower back.

“Astarion…” she said, turning. “You cannot buy this for me.”

His gaze sharpened on her, lips twitching up into a grin.

“You’d presume to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

Fuck .

“No! I just…” she turned back to the attendant, indicating the necklace and fumbling her words. “Would you?”

The man stepped up and unclasped the pearls, returning them to their spot.

“We’ll be right back,” Astarion told him. “Please box those up for me.”

Astarion slipped his arm around Jen’s waist and she knew she was in for it now. He guided her to the corner of the store and grinned down at her, look stating quite clearly that he knew he’d trap her with something sooner or later.

“Oh little love,” he growled. “It’s clear to me that you don’t fully understand how this works just yet.”

“Astar-”

He put a finger on her lips, silencing her with an electric jolt.

“Awfully naughty of you to undermine me in public like this. No more arguing. Those pearls are going around your delicate little neck, and we’ll be getting you a matching pair of earrings. I expect you to cease your insubordination and accept my gifts gratefully. Understood?”

The last word was said with such finality that Jen shivered. They held each other’s gaze, Astarion’s face full of haughty triumph, eyes smoldering, her own expression melting into a simpering mess beneath the heat.

Element?

No. No, this was definitely apparently a fire thing for her. Wonderful.

“Yes, master,” she whispered. “May I say one more thing?”

“And what’s that?”

“Fire.”

Astarion broke into laughter, escorting her grinning little idiot face back over to the case full of pearls to pick out the earrings to match the ludicrously gorgeous and obscenely expensive pearls this man fastened around her neck. He insisted she wear them immediately, and she relented, trying not to reach up and touch them over and over as they made their way through the rest of the mall.

“I know you said we’d do nothing in public, darling, but may I steal a single nibble on that jeweled ear of yours? Just one.”

Jen glanced around, decided they were sheltered enough, caught his eye mischievously and nodded, exhaling as the man took her ear lobe and the pearl into his mouth, tongue and teeth beckoning the gremlin to the surface. Jen slumped as he released her, letting his dark laughter caress her in ways it had no damn business doing.

“Let’s get you all made up for the show. I can’t wait to see the final result.”

---

“Hold still,” he growled again.

“I would if-” Jen bit back the rest of the sentence as a hand fell on her shoulder and tightened, nails digging into her skin.

“I’ll do better, master.”

Just when she’d figured she’d gotten through the most challenging part of the day, Astarion had sat her down at his vanity and set out a startling array of cosmetics beside her.

Apparently he was the makeup artist and hair stylist for this venture. She should have figured this out when he picked all this crap up with her in tow earlier.

Jen supposed he enjoyed looking at her and that no one else would make her up exactly to his taste. And it apparently meant he got to yank her hair around and try to force it to obey him, too. She couldn’t tell if he was actually enjoying this process or not at the moment.

Perhaps it was a bit like any other art. Spectacular visions of beauty, enormous frustration in the harsh face of reality, fervent bargaining with the raw materials, and a hopefully gratifying result.

“You need to take better care of your hair, my pet,” he muttered, stabbing her in the skull with a bobby pin.

“Why does it have to hurt so much to look done up,” she grumbled back at him.

“Because there is no true beauty without sacrifice,” he responded, fixing another pin in place. 

“I suppose time isn’t sacrifice enough?”

“No. Now hold still this time.”

Jen gripped the side of the chair and set her teeth, knowing he was about to yank some strand or piece of this whole maze he was making out of her tresses. He was clearly going for what she’d have lumped under an ‘up-do’ back in the prom-going days. Beyond that, she hadn’t the slightest what to call it.

She did get the feeling that her earlier theory was correct and that he was doing everything in his power to remove anything that would detract from the sight of her pearl-besotted neckline, and it made sense. Why wouldn’t he want to highlight his favorite part of her? Especially when he’d spent a small fortune on the necklace she now wore around it.

Her eyes lingered on the imprint of his teeth that still showed plainly and she reached up to touch the pearls beneath.

“Stop touching them. You’re going to make them dull.”

She dropped her hand again.

“Stand up and look at me,” he ordered.

Jen rose to her feet and turned to face him, watching those eyes comb over her hair critically. He nodded ever so slightly, and paused, reaching a hand out to pull a lock down beside her face.

“Hold your breath.”

Jen furrowed her brow, caught the flash of a can milliseconds before she took the brunt of a cloud of hairspray to the face. She opened her eyes and coughed, exhaling in irritation, glaring at Astarion.

“I don’t like the look you’re wearing, my treasure. It’s ugly. Not befitting this beautiful vision you’re shaping up to be.”

Jen held his gaze as she wiped her face back to pleasant neutrality again, savoring the dark light in his eyes that had become her touchstone today as she did so.

“Sit.”

She did, watching with apprehension as he grabbed something and clicked it open. Jen didn’t have the knowledge or interest to track what all he was applying to her face where and when. All she knew was that it once again required her stillness and that once he was done and had put the pearls back around her neck, Astarion’s face broke into a look of deep satisfaction.

“You clean up so beautifully,” he breathed, still staring, eyes moving from her own to her pearl-studded ears, down to her neck and shifting back up to hold her gaze again.

Jen furrowed her brow. Astarion beckoned for her to stand with that same casual finger motion he’d used last night, and then spun it, telling her to turn.

“You can’t look at yourself and not think so, my treasure,” he purred, stepping up behind her to clutch her shoulders possessively. Jen stared at herself in the mirror, floored by what she saw. It was missing the best part, though. She cleared her throat.

“Can we use the TV? I want to see us together.”

Astarion’s fingers turned her chin into his lips as he kissed her.

“Absolutely. I think we’re finally fit to be seen together.”

Jen waited patiently beside the sofa while Astarion connected his phone to the television, something she noted he did with ease now. Once he had, he aimed it at the center of the room, and pulled her into the frame with him.

She said nothing, simply examined the image in quiet surprise. That was her. That satin wrapped little thing with the perfect looking skin. That mute little figure wearing scars and pearls beneath trailing tresses. She sharpened her gaze, let the elated mischief she was suddenly feeling bleed into her eyes.

Gods. She did look the part of a dark consort now, from the impeccable coordination of their outfits down to the damn bite mark his eyes continued to settle on as he let her take the sight of them standing together in.

She turned to Astarion.

“You’re a fucking wizard.”

He laughed down at her.

“Everyone has their canvas, darling. The body is mine.” Jen caught the thread of sadness in that sentiment, wondering what he must think of himself, scarred as he was. How long it had taken to come to terms with it, if he ever truly had? Gods, at least it was on his back.

“You’re a master then,” she said, grinning up at him as her mind snagged on her own turn of phrase. “So, master , shall we go terrorize the strip for a while?”

“There is nothing I’d like more,” he replied, eyes aglow.

He brought her down to a fancy restaurant for dinner, ordering for her once again. His preference for red meat was one she tolerated just fine having been raised where barbeque and steak were the pinnacle of cuisine. He’d even correctly ordered a drink for her, and she didn’t know if his choosing the Aviation brand gin had been a coincidence or if some part of him recalled it from her choice on their flight here, trapped inside himself though he was.

Gin, and something floral, a throwback to her very first night with the rogue under her roof. Gods, if only past her could have looked into the future to see this night.

From there they had wandered across the street toward the theater in the MGM Grand, nudging each other, giggling at all the attention they kept garnering as they headed through the casino to enjoy the show.

Notes:

I was going to hold off and post this one Saturday but it's too fun to hold onto when I could just post it now. It means it'll probably be the normal Monday post next, but that clears my weekend to do some serious weaving with what all is coming next! And, no joke, I've teared up writing a couple of the scenes so I can't wait to release them when they're good and ready.

Chapter 43: An Imperious Soiree

Summary:

The pair return to their suite after their time enjoying the sights. After checking in with each other, they have a little fun.

Notes:

Very NSFW chapter.

Content warnings:
-Bondage
-Blindfolding
-Forced oral (consensual)
-Impact play (flogger)
-Orgasm control / edging

43. An Imperious Soiree

Jen was practically skipping her way back down the strip with Astarion at her side. She might have literally been skipping had she not been in these stupid heels.

The show had been wonderful. She’d dearly wanted to see KÀ, and had been enchanted by the whole thing. Even Astarion had seemed to truly enjoy watching the spectacle, legitimately impressed by the acrobatics. He had bought her another mask to place alongside the one from Izzy currently bedecking her game room wall, and spent time browsing the literature for sale about the costumes and makeup.

Afterward, he’d slid her into another eatery, insisted once again on plying her with plenty of food and water, prattling happily about the day over a glass of wine. The show. Their spa morning together. Shopping. The pearls around her unbearably gorgeous neck. The strip at night with the lights and the buzz of people. The artistry of the chocolate statue in the shop in the atrium. The pure, unbridled hubris of a giant fountain in the middle of the desert.

The whole trip so far, really.

For her part, Jen watched with smug amusement as people coming and going invariably turned to look at them. Always Astarion, but her, too now. She sat happy, full, and centered proudly within herself as her companion waxed eloquent. They stopped by the chocolatier, leaving her drooling over some of the treats and pretending not to notice Astarion buying a box full of her favorites.

The day, as far as she was concerned, had been an enormously diverting success so far. All the same, she couldn’t help but let out a little sigh of relief at Astarion’s first words upon their arrival back in their room.

“Before we dive into the night, darling, let’s take a time out. How are you doing?”

Astarion, soft-eyed and gentle voiced, examined her face, searching, once again treating her as the complete and complicated little thing that she certainly felt like after today.

“You’re fucking terrifying as the Ascendent.”

“Do we need to stop,” he began immediately, and Jen interrupted him.

“No! I mean, you’ve not actually ascended, so it’s terrifying in all the best ways right now, but I’ve never been so fucking glad that you didn’t do it.”

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. Jen snuggled into them, surprised by how intensely she felt the weight of his friendly embrace. He’d been touching her all day, but this felt more like home. She breathed deep against him, leaning in, burying her face against him and mumbling up at him.

“I needed that. Thank you.”

“Of course, darling. You’ve been playing your part wonderfully.”

“Are you still good, too? There’s been moments when it was almost like someone else completely was looking out of your eyes.”

“Our little charade is certainly waking some of a vampire’s darker tendencies…”

Astarion trailed off, staring into nothing for a moment, and it was Jen’s turn to voice concern.

“Do we need to stop? Is it too much?”

Astarion tilted his head thoughtfully, eyes moving back and forth as he examined something within himself.

“No. I’m enjoying it, and I’ve been able to come back out of it easily enough every time. But thank you for asking, my dear.” He turned his gaze back toward her. “And you’re sure that you’re holding up alright under the pressure of becoming the consort of such a demanding monster?”

She bit back her laughter, then decided to free it instead, watching Astarion’s face light up at the sound of it.

“I am honestly having the time of my life right now. It is so wild to not have to think about anything. To not have to plan anything. To just,” she couldn’t help but blush, “obey. I wasn’t even sure you were capable of planning at all until this weekend.

“And I look just… I didn’t know I looked like this! They way people have been turning and staring at us. It’s hilarious.”

Jen hesitated a moment, wondering if she should just keep it secret. But the shops were closing down by now, so it ought to be safe to share.

“This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long fucking time, so thank you for that.”

“It’s your birthday,” he asked, surprised. “Oh darling, you didn’t tell me that! I’d have insisted on buying you that pearl pendant, too.”

“There’s a reason I kept it quiet,” she muttered as he laughed.

“Well, I hope you’re not trying to manipulate me into overlooking your indiscretions today.” He wagged a finger at her. “You won’t be wiggling out of your punishment that easily.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she responded, grinning. She faltered, remembering stumbling out of bed earlier. “Though I don’t know if I can take another night like yesterday.”

“I won’t be biting you tonight,” he confirmed. “You need time to recover.”

“You’ll be ok?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Can I ask for one concession for my birthday?”

“What is it?”

“I want to cuddle tonight.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed at her, his smile giving away his true feelings about the request.

“Alright, how about this? We’ll have some more fun, then when the scene is done, relax until tomorrow.”

“With tea?”

“If you want.”

“And my audiobook?”

“So demanding.”

“And the curtain open to watch the outside?”

“If you insist.”

Jen smiled at him.

“You’re a big softie.”

“I don’t advise you to call me that in fifteen minutes, darling. Or do. And see what happens.”

---

"Sit."

Jen eyed the chair in the center of the room. Then the rope and flogger on the table next to it. Something told her this was going to be both excruciating and glorious.

She stepped toward the chair, sat, and folded her hands into her lap, toes curling as she hooked her feet nervously around each other.

Jen felt herself shrink back into the chair as the figure of Astarion stepped closer and loomed over her.

He sighed dramatically.

“Look at me.”

Jen dragged her eyes off the floor at his feet up to his face, shrinking further before the intensity of his gaze. Utter disapproval rested in his eyes and at the corner of his lips.

“A start.”

Astarion walked a slow circle around the chair while she sat there in silence, nerves stretching out in rubber-band tightness, ready to snap at the first disturbance.

“You’ve been rather naughty today, my little consort.”

Jen opened her mouth to protest and forced it shut again.

She’d been a damned saint! She’d not said anything at the spa and she let him drag her all over the strip to try on half the damn city. Didn’t argue with his gift or menu choices after the show at all. She’d even caved to the outrageously priced pearls. 

“That right there,” he growled. Jen blinked and swallowed. “Surely you didn’t think it had escaped me? All the times you disagreed with your master.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder.

“All the times you questioned me.”

His grip tightened and she cringed.

“Your little tantrum at the jeweler’s? Surely you didn’t forget that, did you?”

She shook her head, eyeing her feet. A fingernail scraped down her neck.

“Answer me.”

“No, master.”

“I’m a generous soul,” he said, his hand trailing off of her as he moved away, “so I won’t be punishing you needlessly. Instead, we’ll make this a lesson.”

Jen flinched as a soft cloth covered her eyes.

“This is to help you focus on that lesson.”

She felt him tying the fabric behind her head and licked her lips, infinitely more aware of her trembling heartbeat and prickling skin as the darkness closed tight around her.

“Our lesson in obedience.”

Jen sat in unsettling silence, listening for a man who she knew could move absolutely soundlessly when he chose to. Astarion said nothing, and Jen found herself crumbling inward, mind seizing on the sensations she could still experience: the silky satin of her dress against her skin, the stiff back of the chair behind her, the weight of that strand of pearls around her neck, the piercing ache of the wound on her throat as her pulse quickened.

When Astarion spoke again, every ounce of her stopped and listened.

“Spread your legs.”

This demand tripped her up immediately, sending her mind spinning into questions. What part of her legs? Ankles? Knees? All of them? How far? Why?

She leapt at the gentle thwap of the rope across her thigh.

“Not off to a good start, darling.”

Jen stopped worrying about the details and parted her legs, sliding her feet apart on the floor.

“Shit,” she whispered as she felt Astarion grab an ankle, wrap the rope around it, and cinch it against the leg of the chair.

“Silence,” he hissed.

Jen sat in the darkness beside nothing but sensation as he bound her other foot just like he had the first. She heard the rustle of his clothes this time as he stood up.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Jen reached back and waited, a jolt going through her as Astarion tied her wrists together, and then cinched them down to something, keeping them from rising from where he had positioned them.

Her breath became more and more shallow as she tried to fidget and realized how tightly Astarion had bound her in the chair. Gods damn it all, this was her biggest fucking weakness and he’d gone right for it. 

Jen felt the edges of that tingly emptiness from yesterday night start to bleed back in toward the center of her mind, seeping in from the sensations around her.

“The lesson is simple,” he purred, lips right beside her ear. Jen nodded at him automatically. “You do nothing without my permission.”

She felt his hand grasp her by the chin, lifting her face and holding it still.

“You do not move.”

He released her, and she felt the gentle caress of thin straps across her shoulder. That was the flogger.

“You do not make a sound.”

Oh shit.

She saw where this was going in a flash and she bit back a muted whimper.

“You do nothing until I give you permission. Understood?”

“Yes, master.”

She didn’t like the hitch in her voice, just how strained it came out already. Fucking hell, he just had to bring out the damn rope. This was not going to end well.

“Good. Let’s start the lesson.”

Jen felt cool hands on her shoulders and relaxed back into them, mouthing the word ‘fuck’ as she heard a disappointed ‘tch’ from behind her. Gods preserve her; the man was asking the impossible.

“What was my first command?”

“I do not move.”

“And what did you do?”

“I moved,” she answered, voice cracking under his scolding tone.

“That is your only warning, pet. Do not disobey me again.”

She sat silent, still as a mossy stone in the center of the stream. The silence stretched out along her nerves until Astarion chose to break it.

“Good,” he purred. She felt his hands on her back, and her skin traced the touch of his fingers as he undid the eyelet and zipper of her dress. Jen squinted her eyes shut tightly beneath her blindfold where he wouldn’t see as his hands slipped beneath the fabric, fingers peeling it off of her and exposing her back and chest, leaving the dress scrunched around her midriff.

Skin prickling, she fought against herself and managed to subdue a shudder.

“Good girl,” she heard as Astarion stood. She felt the breath race out of her as she tracked the location of his voice, and realized he was stepping away from her for some unknown reason.

The unanswerable question of why filled her with electric dread, a dread that doubled as she heard the buzz of a toy behind her.

Oh fuck me.

The buzzing came closer, and her ears tracked it from her back, around her side, to her front, and then lower. Jen felt the hem of her dress lift as Astarion exposed her thighs, leaving the skirt draped at her waist and her flesh bare. He slipped the little teardrop shaped vibrator into her panties, leaving it trapped against her.

She couldn’t suppress the shiver that followed as she connected the dots with lightning speed. The hair raising sensation of the vibrator, heightened by the blindfold. How easily she would startle without being able to see a man who was all but silent. Astarion’s diabolical lesson was clearly designed to be impossible, to give him an excuse to punish her.

And that punishment would just create a feedback loop that sent her spiraling down into frustrated insanity.

She clenched her jaw to avoid letting her head fall backwards against the chair. It was already taking damn near all of her willpower to keep from wiggling her hips to change the position of the toy between her legs.

“Excellent,” he purred down to her. “Now, open your mouth.”

She hesitated again at the unexpected command, but rallied swiftly, letting her lips part. Jen could smell him approach then, could feel the motion of the air around them as he drew closer. She didn’t have long to wonder how he’d managed to get the height worked out properly before she felt Astarion place his tip against her lips.

She whined quietly against him, kicking herself as she heard his disappointed ‘tch’ again.

“You were doing so well, too,” he murmured. “Alas.”

The flogger connected with her thigh, leaving it stinging, and she flinched, jerking against her bonds.

Damn it.

“No no, darling.”

She braced herself and took the second strike without moving, without letting her breath sail out of her silently as the tingling pain in her leg made her that much more aware of the vibrator humming against her and the scent of Astarion in front of her.

“Better. Now open.”

Jen obeyed, desperately trying not to grind herself forward onto the vibrator as Astarion pushed himself into her mouth, taking her head by the knot of hair so conveniently piled together in a handle for him. He pushed her down his shaft with a single controlling motion.

She started to shake as she felt herself tense against her bonds, tongue cradling him as she fought desperately to keep her damn hips still, something that, much like him, was growing harder by the second. She could feel herself starting to slip easily atop the silicone against her, her wetness tempting her to surrender to need.

“Did I tell you to move,” Astarion hissed at her, tightening his grasp. The sting of the flogger left a kiss on her shoulder blade and she yelped around his cock. This elicited a second blow, and another gasp, a gasp he clearly felt as he whipped her a third time.

Jen felt absolutely electrified, like she’d only ever experienced sensation at half strength before and had suddenly been given the ability to actually feel. This was all going to be over far too soon. There was no way in hell she was going to maintain silence or stillness.

You’re not meant to.

It was better to get this over with, to suffer what he had planned for her. Jen groaned around him, pushing her lips forward down him and wiggling her hips against the toy in defeat.

Astarion withdrew himself, pulling her head back up, speaking from right in front of her.

“I’m disappointed in you, pet.”

“Please master,” she begged. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

She flinched as the flogger snapped down across her thigh, and bit her tongue to keep from crying out at a second eye-watering strike.

“Did I tell you you could speak?”

“No, master,” she replied. “Please!”

Astarion’s voice sliced through her.

“Enough.” His pause froze the world around her as she waited for his next pronouncement. “Three blows, darling. Take three blows still and silent like an obedient little thing, and I’ll give you permission to writhe and moan as much as you’d like.”

“Yes, master,” she whispered, voice shaking.

The first strike caught her against the same thigh again almost immediately, and Jen failed to keep from yelping. She sucked down a breath, held it, and tensed every muscle in her body.

She took the second blow soundless and motionlessly, feeling an ecstatic shiver race down her spine to rattle her core.

The third blow fell on her opposite thigh, and the shock of a new location almost broke her concentration, but she held, choking back a cry as the final blow followed it immediately.

He’d tried to catch her out on that one, she knew, but she had held her tongue, kept herself poised.

“Acceptable,” he sneered. She heard the soft thunk of the flogger hitting the floor beside them and breathed a little easier. His voice dropped to a growl. “Open.”

Jen opened her mouth again, hair standing on end as he took her head in both his hands and pushed into her mouth with a groan that turned her inside out.

“Master,” she tried to ask around him.

“If you must,” she heard dismissively from above her.

Her voice came out low and throaty as she moaned around him. Astarion began to rock himself into her mouth, breaths low and deep as he did. Jen could feel her heart pulsing hard against her chest and ground her hips forward, trying and failing to get the vibrator where her body desperately wanted it.

She moaned as she tasted him even stronger against her tongue, her own hips mirroring the rhythm he set against her lips and tongue, his groans and shuddering breaths that much louder and more intoxicating for not being able to see him.

Astarion started gasping as his pace quickened, and she pressed her pleading tongue against him, reaching, using her it to massage him as much as she could as his fingers tightened in her hair.

She began to pant with him, could feel herself approaching the edge, when his voice cracked down to her.

“Don’t you dare.”

Jen clawed herself back from the edge, scrambling beneath his ire, whining and moaning around him as he thrust deeper, harder, faster until she felt his rhythm slip. Once, twice, and once more before he burst in her mouth with a cry of unmitigated ecstasy.

Jen trembled and whined, swallowing him, choking down breaths and spit and his seed as he held himself inside her mouth until he was done.

Astarion released her hair and drew himself out of her, leaving her suddenly alone in the chair with the vibrator still purring beneath her.

She wanted nothing other than to have him back, however he would take her. Just come back. Touch her again. Groan for her again. Violate her. Tease her, torment her. Anything.

“Master,” she begged, shaking all over, stuck atop a precipice she had no idea how to get down from without him right now. “Please master!”

She felt him tear the panties off of her, sending the vibrator back into the hell he’d dragged it out of, and she cried out as his tongue licked across her clit. Jen pulled desperately against the rope whining for more as he drew away, leaving her with nothing.

“Please,” she breathed. “I’ll obey. I swear it. Please!”

She heard a smug ‘hmph’ in front of her as a finger slipped inside her.

“Not until I say so, darling,” he warned, curling it within her.

“I swear. I swear,” she panted at him, falling into rhythmic thrusts against him as his lips and tongue began to tease her again.

Fuck she was so close! She was right there! Gods she just wanted to let go, to let it take her!

“No,” he growled between her thighs, pausing before changing the rhythm of his tongue and fingers again.

Jen cried out in a frustration drawn from the depths of her soul and released into the room in a futile bid for relief.

“Please,” she wailed again, feeling an arm slip behind her, drawing her tighter against the bonds and against him. Astarion didn’t answer her, simply kept torturing her with his attentions, changing what he was doing right when she was most ready to burst.

Jen was going insane, body made of raw heat and need with nowhere to go, aching deep in her muscles, wounds from his punishments stinging against the air in pulsing time with her need, need that he would not stop stoking higher. Head lolling down, she fell to panting.

“Master… master… master…”

She felt his mouth draw back, heard him take the breath that he could use to release her, and rejoiced at his words.

“Now, my pet.”

Astarion teased and caressed, curling his fingers perfectly within her. A final electrifying dance of his tongue and Jen fell apart, felt herself turn inside out in his mouth as the orgasm screamed across her bound form, tearing muscles apart and destroying her ability to do anything but surrender to the heart-stopping, toe-curling release.

She heard herself wailing some combination of Astarion’s name and the word master and thank you, but was too far away from herself to really know what she was saying. All she knew was how explosively good this felt.

As sensation faded away, Jen fell still, sagging forward against the bonds, nearly catatonic. Hands untied her feet, scooting them together. A body braced against hers as Astarion freed her wrists from their confines. She slumped against him, and Astarion lifted her up, carrying her to the bed, placing her gently on it and removing her blindfold.

Mind still in a haze, she heard him turn on the tap in the bathroom before he returned to her, dabbing a cool washcloth against her burning thighs.

It felt wonderful against her raw skin and she sighed in relief as he rubbed something soothing on them.

She wanted him up on the bed with her, wanted him to leave the cloth be and just hold her, but she couldn’t make her brain and her mouth connect yet.

He was saying something she didn’t quite catch before he lifted her up into a sitting position and dabbed her shoulder with the cooling cloth, too.

“ ‘Starion?”

“What is it, my sweet?”

She wasn’t quite sure yet.

“ ‘Stari?”

“Shhhh, it’s alright. You’ll come back to yourself soon. I’m right here darling. Let me get you that tea. And some water.”

She lay there floating on the bed, eyes starting to track the colors and movement outside, ears starting to follow him around the room. She exhaled and smiled happily as she recognized her portable tea kettle hissing as it heated up.

Astarion returned to her with water.

“Drink this, my sweet. You’ll feel better. And let’s get you tucked in. There. Nice and cozy. Where’s your phone? No, don’t try to move. I’ll find it.”

Jen listened to him dreamily as he retreated back into the room, scrounging up her phone and leafing through her tea options. She heard the tink of the infuser in a ceramic mug coming closer again.

“This is hot, darling. Let’s have it sit here on the tray. I’ve got some fruit here for you, too. Those chocolate strawberries from the shop downstairs. I bought them when you weren’t looking.”

Jen’s toes started fidgeting under the blanket as he continued fussing, making sure there was nothing else he could get her. It’s like higher thought had just vanished into the ether and she’d been sent skipping back after it with a butterfly net.

At some point she rolled herself over onto her stomach. Astarion took this as an opportunity to apply something soothing to her shoulder blade, probably the same cream he’d put on her thighs. She nibbled on a strawberry, decided she was actually fiercely hungry, and finished the whole plate of them without pause beneath Astarion's pleased gaze. 

“Help me with the dress and hair,” she finally managed to ask afterward in what was almost a full sentence this time.

Astarion obliged, lifting the dress off of her and hanging it up, taking out her pearl earrings, and placing the necklace alongside them. She sipped her tea, sitting in the center of the bed, listening to the narrator recount the chaos of Mr. Collins’s proposal, chuckling with Astarion as he fished bobby pins out of her hair. Once he’d determined he’d gotten them all, or as near to all of them as anyone ever seemed to manage, Jen turned and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as he fell back with her to snuggle.

She lay in her own little world just breathing the man in as he tucked them beneath the covers together.

Fucking hell. She was never going to be the same after him.

Please, please make this worth whatever happens next.

Jen drifted quietly to sleep in his arms, exhausted and happy, looking forward to the following day with unabashed eagerness.

Notes:

Astarion would be so fucking good at aftercare, tbh. It makes me sad that I feel like this would be in large part from him having to suffer and heal alone for so long, but I'm glad that at least this version of him can use the knowledge to care for a partner.

Posting this one today instead of tomorrow's normal post because I've got a busy day. I don't want to promise this coming week will see the Tav reveal, but it will either be this week or next. I having been working on that specific chapter in between the rest for probably like six weeks now, and I am so damn ready to get it out there! Not all of them take that much of my attention, but the super important ones tend to, and it's no exception.

Chapter 44: No Escape

Summary:

The final day of the Las Vegas trip gets derailed by a familiar unwanted guest, and Jen runs headfirst into a very inconvenient truth about the state of things.

Notes:

Briefly NSFW. No content warnings needed for this one, though.

44. No Escape

“Well, little love, are you ready for the day?”

“Stone,” Jen groaned, hands reaching up to clench her pounding skull. She could hear him hurrying over to her, stopping short of the bed, not touching her.

“What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

“Migraine,” she said quietly.

“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry.”

She could hear his facial expression, saw the sadness in her mind without having to look.

“S’ok. Close the window fabric?”

“Erm, curtains?”

“Curtains.”

“Of course.”

A hum sounded from the foot of the bed as the curtains drew themselves closed. Jen heard the rattle of pill bottles and smiled softly, knowing the man was already digging through her bag to bring her exactly what she’d been about to ask for next. He knew this song and dance perfectly  by now.

“Thank you,” she whispered, sitting up and holding a hand out to take the medicine, gulping it down with the glass of water he brought over.

“Ice pack,” he asked, presenting a forearm to her.

Jen collapsed face first against him, head resting against the spot of bare flesh framed by the robe he was wearing. She sighed against him as he closed his arms around her.

“I didn’t do this to you, did I?”

“No,” she said with as much emphasis as she could muster. “No. They just happen. Probably weather. Hormones. Something uncontrollable.”

“Alright. I suppose I should cancel that spa appointment. Give me a moment, darling. I’ll come right back.”

Jen flopped over to let him free, closing her eyes against the churning of her stomach and stabbing inside her skull as she shifted positions too rapidly. She could hear him on the phone, wondered just how long it took to cancel a simple appointment, and proceeded to forget about it entirely as he came back to lie next to her, pulling her gently into a blissfully chilled embrace.

“I’ve ordered breakfast, my dear,” he said quietly. “They’ll bring it up to us so we don’t have to move a muscle until you’re able.”

Jen squeezed him weakly in wordless thanks, drifting into calm quiet against him again.

“You know,” he said, fingers tracing through her hair as he massaged her scalp, “even if I was the Ascendant I’d fuss over you in this state.”

“Yeah, but I like you better. This you.”

“Me, too, darling,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “Though going a bit mad with power certainly is fun. Shall we listen to your little book some more while things quiet down in that skull of yours?”

Jen considered this through the drowsy fog. She didn’t particularly care either way, but it would probably help keep Astarion entertained as he waited for her. He seemed to be enjoying Pride and Prejudice, and she’d heard it all before, anyway, so it didn’t matter if she dozed off.

“Please,” she whispered, unlocking the phone to hand to him, changing her mind, and starting the audiobook playing herself.

“I could have done it,” he protested.

“You went through my computer.”

He tutted at her but didn’t argue further.

Why did the migraines always have to strike at the worst possible times? It was fucking rude of them to give zero shits whether she was on vacation or at work or out trying to navigate traffic.

She supposed at least it hadn’t been on her birthday this year. And after all, was there ever really a good time?

Not really.

But now? When they’d been having such a weekend together?

Jen sighed sadly, melting further into her sentient ice pack as she half listened to the audiobook, smiling as she felt his chest and shoulders shake as he giggled at something new.

This wasn’t exactly a bad way to spend the morning, either, she supposed. If the migraines gave her this forever, she might just be crazy enough to keep them.

Jen could feel herself drifting back and forth, in and out of consciousness, letting the medication have time to begin to work, breathing in the scent of Astarion and feeling her mind follow the idle motions of his fingers through her hair like a needy little kitten following its new best friend.

When she found herself able to string a proper sentence together, she noticed that a tray of assorted breakfast carbs sat waiting for her on the bed.

“It’s a bit cold now,” Astarion said, poking a slice of french toast with a fork, “but I thought it best to let you sleep it off.”

“I lo-

NO!

“-ve that you know exactly what I needed.”

Excuse me? What the fuck was that?

Worry about it later. Damage control now.

“Of course,” he purred. “And there’s some of that sunmelon here, too, though none of that spicy salt you put on it, I’m afraid. I suppose that’s a Texas thing.”

She’d caught it fast enough. Oh thank fuck.

“You’re the best,” she said, reaching for the watermelon, noticing the turmeric ginger tea with surprised delight, and drinking the entire cup first instead as her rudely jump started brain scrambled into action.

She’d really almost fucking said that to him?

Get a grip on yourself. This is short term casual until he finds his long lost love and leaves.

Was it? Reeeeally?

Short term she bought, but this all did not feel casual. This all felt very serious. More so every damn day.

Ok, so short term serious relationship? Was that even a thing? How the hell should she know? She’d never had one. Was this just fucking normal to him? If it wasn’t here, maybe it was there? Things like this tended to be societal after all.

Maybe she should knock it off. Maybe she shouldn’t look a gift vampire in the damn mouth - she already knew this one had fantastic teeth after all.

Astarion interrupted her train of thought.

“You alright, my dear? Is your medicine working?”

“Yeah, mostly. Why?”

“You’re still quiet. You usually wake up a bit more anxious to go.”

“Just thinking.”

“Good thoughts?”

Jen looked over at him suspiciously, had to remind herself that the man couldn’t read minds, just facial expressions and body language. She wondered what hers was telling him right now.

“Why do you say that?”

“Your face isn’t all scrunched.”

He was studying her now, trying to see more. Jen decided that it might be best to feed him something he might expect rather than entice him to pry more by dodging him.

“Just thinking about the weekend. Pondering what the hell made all that feel so… fulfilling.”

She felt herself blush as Astarion chuckled.

“It’s always wonderful when a fantasy comes to life so very well.”

“So you think it went well,” she asked, half to needle him into talking and half out of anxiety and true curiosity about his opinion.

“You’d disagree,” he returned, scandalized.

“No,” she hurried out. “Just curious, I guess.”

Astarion flopped forward on the bed, lying on his side and looking at her, eyes alert and penetrating.

“About what?”

“I kind of understand why it felt so amazing for me, with the whole brain shutting off thing. It never does that on its own.”

Astarion was smirking at her, but said nothing.

“But that’s my side of it. What’s it about this weekend that has you so radiant?”

“The opposite. Control,” he said, looking down the bed to stare out the window. “Complete control. I mean, obviously you could stop it at any point, but being in charge of everything that’s happening? It’s wonderful.”

He stopped talking, leaving Jen to worry if they’d entered forbidden territory. But he hadn’t hesitated, and he continued speaking.

“I feel safe. Powerful. And having some gorgeous little thing like you letting me order her about? Your groveling and begging for more? Well, it’s delicious in a way very few things are.”

“Well,” she sighed ruefully, “lucky for you that seems to be my jam.”

“Oh, I can tell,” he purred. “I thought it might be, and it makes this all even better.”

He shifted toward her, and Jen piped up hastily.

“Slow down Romeo. I still feel like crap.”

“Alas.”

He stopped and pouted at her, red eyes round and soft, lips sad and full. Too sad and too full.

“Can I steal just a few kisses? I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Blood pressure going up makes my head worse.” She heard the longing in his sigh and caved. “But I’ll take a single kiss if you can manage that.”

The man rolled over and fastened his lips on hers, startling her with the immediacy and intensity of the gesture. She let him pursue her, staying still on her back, enjoying the feel of his fang scraping across her bottom lip as he let go.

“Don’t look at me like that, darling. Not if you want me to control myself.”

“Let’s take a bath together,” she said.

She stared herself down in shock for the second time in all of twenty minutes.

Excuse me, what?

It’ll be fine.

Just cool and snuggly and peaceful and dark.

Astarion wasted no time scrambling out of the bed.

“Excellent! I’ll run the tap. Be back in a jiff.”

She groaned internally at his barely repressed tone.

Volunteering to get in a bath with a naked elf was going to be fine? Since when had being naked around him not resulted in sweating and moaning and melting into each other all over again?

First time for everything?

That seemed overly optimistic.

She sighed, head in her hands as he emerged from his bathroom, water echoing into the tub behind him.

“I don’t want to mislead you,” she said. “I just want to soak. If I do anything it’s all going to blow up in my face.”

“It does tend to do that,” he smirked.

Jen let out an exasperated breath.

“You know what I meant. Please just hold me and stay with me?”

“What if we don’t raise your blood pressure?”

Sir, have you seen yourself naked?

“Good luck,” she muttered.

“I’m serious, darling. Perhaps it would give you some relief.”

“I’m convinced ‘sex curing headaches’ is a myth that dates back to cavemen,” she responded flatly. “It’s certainly never worked on me, and I still get the gumption to try it probably yearly to see if that’s changed.”

“And are you due for your annual attempt again? I’m more than happy to help,” he said, trailing off hopefully.

“Haven’t you had enough of me yet?”

She’d meant that to be teasing but it didn’t entirely sound that way once the words were out of her mouth.

“No,” he responded earnestly. “Now hush, and let’s get in the tub. Do you need me to carry you?”

“I can-” Jen stopped mid sentence as she attempted to swing her feet to the floor. “Would you?”

“Gently,” she hissed, as he scooped her up effortlessly. “Please. Sorry, still cranky.”

“Then let’s fix it,” he murmured, lowering her feet gently to the floor beside the tub, hand on her back helping her stabilize herself as she stood.

Jen stepped cautiously into the bath, hanging onto Astarion’s hand for balance. She’d not gotten up at all this morning, which made it easy to transition straight to the tub since she still wasn’t wearing a damn thing. She lowered herself down and let go of his hand, grimacing against the roar of the water filling the bath.

All senses at eleven today, it seemed.

After the tub had finished filling, Astarion stopped the tap and shed his robe, laying it on the wide edge of the tub. He slipped into the water behind her, and leaned back against the edge, stretching a leg out on either side of her, reaching forward and carefully helping her scoot backwards until her butt met flesh.

Jen leaned back, sighing and sinking deeper into the water as she let her weight fall against him.

Her head came to rest against his shoulder and he encircled her with his arms, holding her to his chest. She lay like that with him in silence and darkness, feeling the tension within her begin to seep out into the water.

“Can you sit up,” he asked quietly.

“Maybe?”

Jen leaned forward and felt his hands on her shoulders, squeezing and massaging. She breathed out in a deep groaning sigh as Astarion chuckled quietly behind her.

“We were going to have this done professionally, but I’ll have to do.”

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“It’s not your fault.”

It was, though. It wasn’t like she did it on purpose but her migraines were the reason they were stuck in here.

“Mph, you’ve got quite a knot there,” he murmured, digging in harder to try to work it out. She sucked her breath in, gritting her teeth as he continued. It felt so fucking fantastic. It hurt, but man was he ferreting out every little bit of tension he could find and the aching relief was wonderful.

She leaned back into his hands, stretching her aching muscles as he moved up to her neck, thumbs working at forcing out the stiffness that always plagued her.

“Thank you,” she breathed when he stopped and rested his arms around her again.

“I told you we'd pamper you with a massage if you were good. I hope that will suffice.”

“Mmmhmmmm,” she murmured, falling back against him again.

She breathed out in an amused breath as she felt his hands drop to her hips and slide forward, fingertips resting on the sensitive skin where her legs and abs met. She was almost surprised it had taken this long given his rather noticeable presence against her cheeks and lower back.

“May I try, darling? I’ll stop immediately if you start hurting again.”

Jen sighed. She really did not think this was going to work.

“Don’t say yes because you think I want to,” he said behind her, voice suddenly stern. “If it’s not something you’re willing to do right now, you tell me. Understood?”

Boy, he was gonna use that bossy voice on her more now that he knew it worked so damn well.

Jen wrestled with two opposing forces: her gremlin, who was eager to give this a go, and the fear of her migraine which was very much not. In the absence of any response from her, Astarion pulled his hands away, and moved to simply hold her again.

“You can put them back,” she said, deciding. 

“You want me to put them back?”

“Please.”

“Alright.”

He slid his hands back down and she closed her eyes, sinking into the calmness of the water and the comfort of his flesh behind her.

“Now just relax,” he crooned, slipping his arm lightly around her waist and dropping his other hand to her nethers, where he began massaging her with a deep, even pressure. She sighed against the feeling, that wonderful warmth spreading through her at a trickle, one easy circle at a time.

“Breathe with me, darling.”

She felt his chest rise and fall behind her and focused on it as he did it again, matching her own breaths to his.

In.

Hold.

And out.

“Perfect,” he murmured in her ear. “Just… stay with me.”

Jen continued breathing with him, soothed by the slow, comfortable rhythm, tension whispering away with each breath as she felt herself grow warmer and more sensitive.

She took in a breath and let it out slowly again, moving her hips unthinkingly in time with his hand and their breaths now.

“Lazy and slow,” he whispered. “We don’t always have to be so intense. Just relax.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder and continued stroking in delicious, slow circles. She could feel him against her and it was growing difficult to ignore.

“Shh shh shh. Slow and deep,” he said again, and Jen slowed herself back down, matched herself against his breathing and followed his fingers around and around.

It felt… different. Wonderful and sensual but so calm and full. Like she was a cup already full of water, just waiting patiently for that little ripple to spill over and let it all trickle out.

Jen found her eyes closed and her head limp against him. She turned inward toward his neck and breathed his scent in, sighing it all back out again as he continued the slow, soothing pressure.

She felt her chest rise and fall sharply in a clipped breath and focused on staying still and relaxed as another sharp breath caused her to lose the rhythm for a brief moment.

“There,” he whispered, voice soft as his curls beside her. “Just like that, darling. Deep breaths.”

Jen breathed, nestled against the skin of his neck in a state of rapturous calm, so intensely enamored with the sensation that she didn’t even realize where she was, how full her cup was.

All it took was a moment of soft, light touching and the final drop broke the surface of the water, sending the deep relief of climax rippling through her, spilling over the sides as she forgot to take that last breath and groaned into his neck, hips twitching and trembling.

“There,” Astarion purred happily.

Jen waited for the wave of pain to roar back and drown her for daring to oppose it in such an outrageous fashion.

But it didn’t. She sat still against him, still matching the rise and fall of his chest with her own, and the pain stayed away. She still felt dizzy and tired and vaguely nauseous, but the pressure in her skull had actually lessened, leaving her shocked and baffled.

“How did you do that?”

“You said it was blood pressure. I can hear all that blood in there, your little heart skipping along. I just tried to keep it low and steady until you finished. A fun little challenge, honestly.”

He said this last bit enormously proud of himself.

“I don’t hurt. I feel… better? I mean,” she blurted quietly, “not perfect, but definitely better.”

“You’re welcome,” he crooned, leaning back happily and leaving his hands half resting half floating on her hips.

This man was a fucking wizard. Seriously.

No, he was a fucking vampire was what he was. And while sex still did not cure a migraine, apparently getting fingered by a keenly attentive vampire could actually fucking help.

Gods, she was going to need another one when he left. She’d thought her vampire fantasies were bad enough. The reality was turning out to be even fucking worse.

Or maybe it was just him. Him specifically.

“We can add some hot water to the tub,” she offered softly. “I know you like warm not cool.”

“You’re plenty warm for now, darling, Just stay pressed close and I’ll survive.”

Speaking of…

“Er, what about you? I don’t think I can-”

“Of course not,” he interrupted.

She sat there, puzzling this out. He was obviously still in the mood. She could feel that.

“They did a number on you, didn’t they,” he said softly behind her, moving her hair to the other side of her head. “Don’t worry about it at all, darling. Honestly. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. There’s plenty of time to be generous later, and you always are. Now lean back; I’m getting cold,” he said, tone becoming petulant and needy.

That, she could do.

“Well, more than half the day is wasted,” Jen sighed. “Suppose we should find something fun to do this evening.”

“We could go out and play a game,” Astarion suggested brightly, causing her to put her hands against her face and drag them down slowly.

“Not that game,” he added. “A different one.”

“What game?”

“It’s called ‘How Do They Taste.’”

“Astarion…” she warned.

“I’m not actually going to bite anybody! It’s just fun to guess. You can guess, too.”

“You’re hungry.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. This was painfully obvious to her now as she turned her head to watch him consider this ‘game’ of his. They ought to find him some food, and she really didn’t have the heart to take him down to the pound to ‘adopt’ a few puppies.

Jen tilted her head and thought for a moment, arriving at an idea that she would actually find deeply satisfying, too.

“Let’s go on a night hike together. You can hunt, and I can check out the desert at night.”

“A night hike?”

“Yeah! I should be up for it after dinner. We can just go walk somewhere more remote. There’s always places, even around big cities like this. You just have to look for them. And I have you for protection.”

“I’m your protection, am I?”

Jen noticed both his chest and voice swelling with pride at the thought, and double down on it.

“Of course you are. You’d end anything that tried to harm me, wouldn’t you?”

“And so much more,” he growled, standing her neck hair on end. “You think I’ll find food out there?”

His tone said quite plainly that he was fucking starving, and Jen felt bad for not noticing sooner. They’d have to plan any future trips around the ability to get him food. Definitely no cruises in their future.

“Lots of smaller things. Probably coyotes. Shit, maybe if you’re lucky, a whole ass mountain lion.”

Jen watched him surreptitiously bite his lower lip before his tongue flicked across it.

“Let’s look some options up and we’ll head out after dinner,” she said.

He smiled at her happily.

“You’ve convinced me.”

---

Seeing him hunt had been fascinating and terrifying all over again.

He was hyper alert as they strolled along, would hone in on something she couldn’t perceive now and again, sometimes freezing just like her cats did to listen more intently, sometimes simply noting it with a slight, sudden tilt of his head as they walked together.

He’d motion her still and vanish silently off the trail, leaving her to watch the night around her in the frigid cold of winter, the sky clear overhead, speckled with thousands of stars. And then he’d reappear as if he’d simply condensed into existence from the air beside her, sometimes sporting a vicious little grin, other times soft and friendly.

They’d turned back down the trail after his final disappearance.

No mountain lion to be had it seemed, but he’d certainly found something canine. Jen didn’t have the heart to watch him drain something to death, but she’d heard the yelp from over the ridge, and watched him saunter back with a smile while licking his fingers not long after.

It wasn’t how she’d expected their Las Vegas trip to end, but it hadn’t started like she’d expected it to start, either. She liked this though, being out here with just the two of them under the stars. It just felt right in a way that very little did.

She found her thoughts wandering back to the morning, when she’d nearly slipped and fucked everything up with a few careless words, but she didn’t have the heart or mind to dwell on it tonight. Not tomorrow either -- that would be filled with travel and all the anxieties it entailed.

No, that was a load of yarn barf best sorted out patiently at home.

She glanced over at Astarion, who caught her looking and smiled, stepping closer. She smiled back, hoping desperately that she found a way to keep a lid on herself because she could not lose this yet.

Or ever.

Fuck me.

She loved him. This him. Right here. With her. She loved all the scary bits and the silly bits and the sexy bits and the serious bits. All of him. 

And he was only hers to love for a time.

What the fuck was she going to do after that?

 

Notes:

Didn't think we'd left all the chronic condition inconvenience behind, did you? Because that's not how chronic conditions work. :( But I did enjoy getting to write a brief, more comforting intimacy scene. It's been really fun stretching to different ends of the spectrum with them.

Also, if you're on the happy side of the roughly 50/50 split that sex helps migraines for, I hate you. (Only a little and only because I'm jealous.) Also, if you've got migraines, I'm guessing you have your own favorite migraine brain words. My personal hits have been 'tooth doctor' (dentist), 'window door' (sliding glass door), and 'fish rice' (sushi). Would love to get a laugh out of your own if you have them!

Chapter 45: The Impossible

Summary:

Astarion has an inconveniently timed epiphany.

45. The Impossible

Gods above, what a weekend! The only thing he hated about it was this business of flying again. If Jen hadn’t convinced him that it was the only reasonable way home, he’d have insisted they simply not.

There was something deeply unsettling about being so far up in the air that he couldn’t make out anything on the ground beyond patterns of landscape. And then to have his life placed in some idiot stranger’s hands for the duration? No thank you. It was not at all a state of affairs that he enjoyed.

Neither did Jen. She’d been quite apprehensive about the whole experience from the first, and he heartily agreed now. She, on the other hand, seemed resigned to it and resilient in a way that he was not.

The crackle of the voice system sounded overhead.

“We’ve been cleared for departure. Should have a mostly smooth flight this morning, so sit back and relax. We’ll see you on the ground in Texas.”

Jen’s heart started skipping faster at the words, and she beat him to the armrest between them, which she ceded to him upon realizing he’d gone for it, too. He grabbed her hand and placed it back, putting his own on her knee.

“Do you have normal blood flow,” she whispered suddenly to him.

What in the hells was with this woman’s questions sometimes?

“As normal as a corpse does, my dear,” he sneered back beneath his breath, not particularly keen to think of corpses right now when he was about to become a flying one.

“Well I don’t know! You have a heartbeat sometimes! Was just gonna tell you to clench your neck and leg muscles. Constricts the blood and helps not get dizzy with the g-forces.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“Gravity not wanting you to leave the fucking ground forces.”

Ah.

“I’m not dizzy, I just don’t like some probably drunk idiot being the one thing between me and an untimely fiery demise.”

She shrugged and grunted, clenching her teeth and leaning back as the aircraft picked up speed.

Astarion did likewise, squeezing his eyes shut against the feeling of being forced back in his seat.

“Can I hold your hand,” she whispered.

He placed it on top of hers on the arm rest and smiled at her quiet sigh of relief as his hand encompassed it. The pair of them sat in anxious silence as the plane began tearing skyward. 

Astarion sought to distract himself from the unsettling plethora of sounds and sensations by turning his mind back to the weekend. This delicious weekend and the gorgeous little mud mephit he’d shared it with.

He knew she would clean up well, but he’d not been ready for the sight of those pearls around her neck, resting in the divots his fangs had left as she lay on the bed beside him, her face a study in unmitigated bliss and serenity. How her bright little eyes followed him aimlessly as he tended to her. How curiously she’d watched him under the moonlight in the desert, at peace in the natural spaces of the world.

She’d not wanted to watch him eat, of course, but he hardly blamed her for that. She loved little fuzzy things and, well, he loved ending little fuzzy things. A bit at odds, that. Besides, he could be a bit of a messy eater at times. A little too enthusiastic in his indulgences. But of course, she knew that. She liked that, the little weirdo.

He stole a furtive glance at Jen, who was absorbed in some game on her little handheld device now.

Astarion found himself considering something absolutely preposterous more with every passing day, and their trip to Las Vegas had only nourished the thought.

He loved Tav dearly, but he was beginning to think that when he did find her, unless she met an increasingly narrow set of criteria, he would simply let her go. And for the first time in his long quest, the thought didn’t paralyze him with fear.

That was Jen’s doing.

This caring, enduring, prickly little thing that kept him so entertained and on his toes. The delicious, amorous, playful little thing eager to share the world with him. The mud covered little explorer who was positively stunning in a black and silver dress, strand of dark pearls around her throat, heels clicking as she swaggered along beside him, fooled into confidence he knew she hadn't felt by the act of playing a part. The one who dragged him off into the desert while she was still recovering to ensure he, too, was happy and healthy.

He stole another glance at her, grip tightening on her knee as he tried to ignore the worrying new noises he could hear all over this damn flying coffin.

What would Tav have said to him now if she saw him with Jen? If she just walked onto the plane and saw them together.

He didn’t know, honestly. He knew in his ancient animated bones that she’d not want him to wander alone forever, but they’d made plans to find each other again, and he was trying so hard to do just that. Was it a betrayal to even consider anything else?

Perhaps he could pause for just a short time. He could focus on ensuring his little mud mephit was all squared away, ensuring she could continue thriving once he’d found Tav and gone home. Astarion felt his stomach twist in sudden displeasure at the idea of sharing her with anyone.

Ugh. Well, he certainly couldn’t just leave her all alone, and if he was going to be with Tav, then she needed someone, too.

He scowled. He may not like the idea, but it was the kinder thing to do, and she’d been so very kind to him. She had her quiet little life, and she’d changed it all up on his account, hadn’t given it a second thought despite finding him -- what was it?

Endeariating. He grinned. That had been her word.

Gods, taking him in from the woods like that? Knowing full well that he was a scoundrel and a vampire from the outset? The devil had she been thinking?

It had been an objectively stupid thing for her to do, and she had to have known that. In fact, he knew her well enough now. Of course she had known! And yet she did it anyway, without question. 

Well, she had the one question, the one ensuring he wasn’t going to eat her, which had been an eminently reasonable concern given his original state of mind. He’d absolutely been intending to kill her, enjoy a drink, and carry on about his unlife.

Jen may not have been his Tav, but she was just as remarkable in her way. She had that same groundedness and stubbornness that his dearest had. But she also had the desire to reach for what she wanted to be instead of allowing everything that had happened to hold her down, and that was a struggle near and dear to his own heart.

And then, gods, how completely she'd given herself over to him once she’d taken that leap of faith at last? She held nothing back from him, wanted it all. Accepted it all. Begged for it all.

How the hells could he do anything less than see her happy?

“You’re squeezing the shit out of my knee,” she said beside him. “Still not wild about the plane?”

Astarion snapped back into the present and looked at her concerned little face.

“Er, no. I’m not.”

“Did you want to borrow my Steam Deck? You can play Baldur’s Gate. That seems to keep you pretty occupied.”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to take it from you, my dear,” he replied, watching as she ran around her pixelated little farm.

“I’ve got games on my phone, too, and my audiobook. It’s seriously ok. You’ll have to play without the sound, though, because I’m not volunteering my earbuds. Sorry not sorry.”

He chuckled.

The plane jolted and shimmied slightly, making the both of them grimace and reach for the armrest again.

“Maybe I will take you up on that offer,” he muttered.

Jen ran back inside a colorful farmhouse, kissed a black haired little pixel man -- sending a flash of irrational jealousy through him -- and hopped into the bed. She scrolled through a little summary screen before Astarion saw the words ‘Progress Saved’ in the bottom corner. She closed down the game and navigated some menus to disconnect her earbuds from the device.

Astarion sucked in another breath as the plane jolted, rather glad suddenly for the offer of a more tangible distraction. Wouldn’t do to freeze into the terrified statue of an elf like he had during the first flight.

“Here,” she said, booting up Baldur’s Gate III and handing it over to him. “Controls might take some adjusting to. Also, you can only have four people in a party at once on this one. No mods installed at the moment.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” he breathed, leaning over and placing a light kiss on her cheek. Jen stiffened and blinked in surprise, giving him a strange look as he drew back.

Astarion grinned awkwardly, took the Steam Deck into his hands, and cast about for a question he could ask to change the subject.

“We can’t both play on here, can we?”

Jen seized on this.

“No, just single player in this setup, at least without the internet.”

“Ah.”

He looked at the screen, fiddled around until he determined how these little thumb sticks worked and which buttons seemed to do what, berating himself silently as Jen turned back to her phone.

The bloody hells was that? He couldn’t go kissing her like that just because he’d decided he might want to stay with her for a while. She must have thought he’d lost his mind. And, gods, he couldn’t just tell her he was considering it. She’d never approve.  

Astarion looked at the start menu of the device in his hands, wondering idly what Jen had last been up to when she’d played it herself, grinning as he thought back to their very own rendition of that alternate version of himself and the creation of his first spawn.

He’d been very right about her and how delicious she’d find their little game. But now was not the time to think back on that, not when stuck in this bloody contraption for hours yet. Ugh. And then the car afterward. But perhaps after that…

He glanced back to the game device in his hands, wondering slyly what save files could be lurking in such a convenient handheld thing. A thing it was easy to take to the bedroom, perhaps.

Astarion selected the load options and noted that there was only a single game file on it, helpfully named Jen. He opened this up and glanced through disappointingly boring save names like ‘druid grove’ and ‘goblins.’

Alas, nothing interesting. It seemed she’d not even gotten into the mountain pass or the underdark here. He glanced over to the thumbnail beside one of these and furrowed his brow for a moment.

It was difficult to make out in miniature, but…

Astarion felt his chest tighten. Surely not.

“Er, do you mind if I use whatever’s here instead of starting over, my dear?”

She blinked at him and popped an earbud out. He repeated the question. Jen shrugged.

“If you want.”

Astarion looked back down to the screen in his hands, selecting a save called ‘camp night twelve’ and loading it up. He waited impatiently, not daring to breathe in the interim. It took an unbearable length of time, but finally he found himself back in the sanctuary of the river camp along the Chionthar.

Sitting on a stool beside a very familiar tent. Violin strapped across his -- er, her -- back. Hair brushed back behind the pointed ears poking out from beneath a floppy, feather bedecked cap. Just as he remembered her from those early days of their travels together.

“Darling,” he whispered, having trouble finding his voice, “what’s this?”

“Uh, Baldur’s Gate? The game you’ve been playing?”

“Well, yes, obviously. But I mean, this save file.” The hell was he trying to ask her? “It’s the only one here… Ours isn’t.”

“Oh. It won't be. I disabled the sync. I wasn’t a big fan of the game on the Steam Deck.”

“Alright, so this is…? Which of your Tavs?”

She considered this for a moment beside him, casting back through her mind for the answer.

“That would have to be the first one. I loaded it on there briefly for a trip, but went straight back to the computer afterward.”

Astarion stared at her, frozen, and then looked back down at the screen in his hands. He stood Tav up and ran over to the magic mirror, fumbling around the buttons with irritation, trying to figure out how to activate it.

This couldn’t be her first file. The bloody woman had remade her first Tav with him. She’d said so and they looked nothing alike.

If Jen’s first Tav actually looked like this... surely not.

Astarion’s frustration grew until he finally figured out what damn button to press to make the stupid little device do what he wanted it to. The screen zoomed in and he found himself staring in shock at what he saw.

Forget looking like Tav, the bloody woman on that screen WAS Tav. Every last detail. His eyes fell on every beauty mark. The highlights in her hair. Her rose tattoo right where she most loved to be bitten -- some bard nonsense about poetry. The little scar above her brow from a tankard thrown at her early in her busking career.

Breathe, damn it. Breathe.

“I never asked,” he said, voice too high pitched. “How old are you now, darling?”

“Rude.”

“Please?”

“Uh, let’s see. Odd year, er, no, even now. Would make me an odd number. Thirty-nine?”

Oh gods.

“I see,” he said, looking back down at Tav. He sat gobsmacked, completely unable to speak. That was his Tav. A Tav named Jen. A Jen who was the right age. To the day. And, he began to suspect, to the very hour, minute, and second.

But the parchment! What the devil did that parchment mean? He swallowed, mind racing, unable to settle on a single coherent thought.

To the hells with the parchment, what were the odds of her Tav being identical to his, and her birthday being the exact year, the exact same day that his Tav had passed?

Bloody hells. There was only a single, reasonable conclusion.

Jen was Tav.

Astarion dropped the Steam Deck in his lap and grabbed her hand. He had to. He’d held it before, of course, but now? Knowing who she was? How could he not just hold it forever and never let go again after so very long?

And gods the nights they’d had together all over again, finding each other!

“Steam Deck not helping the nerves, then, I take it,” she asked, looking back at him and giving his cold, sweaty palm a reassuring squeeze.

He shook his head, staring at her mutely. She frowned at him.

“You really don’t look great.”

“No. I’m feeling quite… overwhelmed.”

The feeling of her squeezing his hand in hers made him want to break down in tears of relief and joy, but all he could do was stare in frozen shock.

He found Tav!

He tried to speak, to say it out loud, but no words came out.

Of course they didn’t.

That blasted contract… he couldn’t exactly tell her that she was Tav, but surely if he could just say he found her, she’d figure it out from there. Jen was a little slow on the uptake sometimes, yes, but logical to a fault. She’d get there.

Astarion opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He frowned and tried again. Then again. Then in a whisper. A yell. Bloody dragonkin throat singing, which he absolutely could not do, but tried anyway.

No matter how hard he pushed his breath through his vocal cords, they would not obey.

No.

No no.

Perhaps change the words, not the tone. He tried every single variation of the sentiment that he could think of as he sat there, mute and dumb, squeezing her hand ever tighter as the minutes passed with failure after failure.

Gods. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell her in any way, shape, or form.

Alright, alright. Calm down. Surely this would be easy to solve. There were always loopholes in these kinds of things. That useless bloody memory crystal. Maybe, maybe he could just write it?

“Do you have a pen, darling?”

Jen let go of his hand and reached below the seat in front of her, fishing one out of her bag and handing it to him. He clicked it open and flipped the magazine from the pocket in front of him to a page with enough white space.

Astarion started to write it out.

And then looked down in despair at a garbled mess of illegible scribbles.

No. This was not happening. He could do this. He was in control. 

He turned to the man on his right, fully intending to ask ‘Excuse me sir, could you tell this beautiful woman beside me that her name is Tav’ but got no further than ‘excuse me.’ The man stared at him for a moment.

“Yes?”

“Oh. No. Nevermind, thank you,” he sputtered.

Jen was looking at him funny, and leaned forward, addressing the stranger.

“He’s a nervous flyer, sorry.”

“Yes,” Astarion laughed, forcing himself to smile through the cold sensation bubbling up from the past, a sensation he thought long buried. “Apologies.”

The man furrowed his brow and nodded, turning his attention back to his phone and shifting his weight to the other edge of his seat.

Gods below. Nine bloody hells.

He just had to force the words out. He just had to make his body listen and everything would be ok again. Everything wrong would be right. He just had to say one simple sentence. Two bloody words!

You’re Tav.

And he couldn’t do it. Astarion shivered, and the shiver didn’t stop. It intensified into a tremble that strengthened with every choked, breathless moment, rattling his teeth and his bones. He could feel the darkness roaring back to claim him, the ice cold lump that settled in his chest as he realized that for the second time in his unlife, his body was not his to command.

“Darling,” he managed to gasp. Jen looked at him, took in his face and breathed in sharply.

“Hey. Hey hey hey. It’s ok. You’re ok. I’m right here.”

Jen moved to reach across him, bumped into the armrest between them in her haste, folded it up into the seat, and tried again. She took his far arm in her hand, turning him to face her as she pivoted toward him. He sat still as death, the only thing he could do sometimes, doing his absolute best not to give in to the panic, the horror, the helplessness.

To not scream in terror in a body that would. Not. Obey.

Jen tugged him until he fell forward, buried his face in her chest. One hand found his hair, the other his back, and she squeezed him against her, stroking his curls, whispering to him.

“Ssshhhh.”

Not again.

“It’s ok. Just breathe.” 

No. Not again. Never again.

He could see the flickering campfire. Smell the woodsmoke. Hear the chirping of frogs and calling of whippoorwills. The quiet passage of water. And feel Tav’s arms around him. Holding him in the night. Saving him from the nightmares while all the others pretended not to hear to spare him the wretched feeling of being the weakest of them all.

“In, then out. It’ll pass.”

Astarion blinked and Tav was Jen and they were on a plane flying back home from that decadent weekend together. She was telling him it would be alright. It was ok. Breathe. She was here.

She was here.

He closed his eyes, still shaking, forgetting to breathe without her gentle reminders, and listened to her heartbeat. Her heart was hammering beneath her ribs, as though it too was trying to break free and comfort him. Jen. Tav. Right here. With him.

He could do this. He could do this. His body was still his. This wasn’t the same as before. He was still free. And Tav, Jen, the little mud mephit, whoever the hells she was, she was right here. She was with him. He had her.

He found her!

He couldn’t tell her.

No, focus, damn it. He had Tav. Jen was Tav!

This, this was marvelous! The best possible outcome!

“You’re ok,” she whispered again. “I’m here.”

“I know,” he whispered back finally.

Maybe if he just told her that he loved her, everything would make sense.

No.

He couldn’t. She still didn’t know. If he said it, she’d have thought he meant her. Well, he did mean her, but she wouldn’t have realized he meant her and Tav and that they were one and the same. She’d never believe him.

Daft little thing would probably be outright insulted on Tav’s behalf, upbraid him about her, drag him off on some cockamamie quest as soon as they landed, make him swear to never blaspheme like that again.

Astarion felt a wretched little chuckle leave his chest and put his arms around his darling, squeezing her tight against him.

“Are you in there,” she whispered as he buried his face in her hair.

He nodded against her.

“Ok, you just seem really shook up again.”

Astarion sucked a deep breath into his lungs, a breath that smelled like her, held it there, remembered that he was still part of this world, whether he needed to breathe or not, and then let it out.

“I’m alright, darling.”

Jen sighed against his neck, shoulders sagging in relief.

“I’m going to let you go then, ok?”

“I suppose I should probably stop causing a scene.”

He smiled at her quiet chuckle, sitting back upright, taking those beautiful eyes in as they peered at him. How had he not realized this? How had this feeling right here not told him the first time they connected, emotionally or physically or any of the hundred other little times over the past two months?

“Shit,” he whispered, staring at her as she searched his face.

“No more flying after this,” she whispered back. “We’ll drive or take the train or a fucking boat or something.”

Astarion closed his eyes gently, breathed her in again, and nodded. Gods. She had no idea.

The hell was he going to do?

Fate had handed him the densest little thing in all the planes and somehow he had to make her see the truth. She had to figure it out and he couldn’t bloody tell her.

Notes:

YES! JEN IS TAV! You can stop worrying about that bit now! 🥰 We are def going the stereotypical route on this fic, haha.

I'm so excited y'all caught on to her original character being important in this, because yes. That was always going to be the first domino for our rogue. Originally, back when I conceived of this thing (this thing that is now, like, 80k words longer than the previous longest work I've ever written), it was probably going to be a lot shorter, as he was going to notice that almost immediately. But when I thought about it out wandering around, I felt like I could add some depth to the story and their characters by stretching the timeline and letting them get to know each other first. I'm really happy I decided to do that, because their dynamic has been so much fun with that room to develop!

But. Even after the Tav reveal, you can also see this isn't quite over just yet. When he made this deal with Baba Yaga, Astarion absolutely did not think through what being unable to tell her would feel like. In addition, we still don't know how that parchment with the riddle figures in. That has yet to come to fulfilment, and I've loved watching all the speculation in the comments. There have definitely been some that have caught on to important bits of what's unfolding there, but I'll say no more on that for now.

Things may get a little emotional in some upcoming chapters, but I want to remind you that this is tagged with happy ending, so we will eventually get these two where they belong. Another huge thanks to all you kudo givers and commentors. ❤️ Was reading a thread on reddit about long fics the other day that made me so grateful for every one of y'all. Enjoy the weekend and go wild speculating where the rest of this is going if you've got theories!

Chapter 46: The Comfort of Home

Summary:

The pair arrive home after their emotional trip, and Jen can't escape the urge to start picking everything apart.

46. The Comfort of Home

“Hi Eva,” Jen crooned, scooping up the calico who had been waiting behind the door. The cat continued scolding her for leaving the clowder with only a sitter checking in at meal times all weekend. “Yes, I know. So mean of me. How dare I go anywhere.”

Jen carried Eva into the kitchen, letting her step out of her arms and onto the bar counter. It felt good to be home again. Las Vegas had made for a breathtaking birthday in every possible way this year, but the quiet comfort of home waiting for her was wonderful to step back into.

She’d gone through the drive through to grab a quesadilla on the way home, something she somehow hadn’t done with Astarion yet. He’d enjoyed it so much that she’d decided spontaneously to go through a car wash afterward. This, too, had evoked delighted laughter, leaving her grinning ear to ear.

The man, once he’d gotten off the plane and had a moment to recover himself anyway, was in a fantastic mood. So fantastic that he’d requested that she connect her phone to the car’s audio to put ‘Jen’s Random Road Mix’ on and then started encouraging her to sing along.

Basically, he was being really damn weird right now, and given her own emotional state the past twenty-four hours, she was feeling quite ill equipped to handle it.

Why? You’re allowed to feel your feelings. Plus, y’all had a wonderful weekend.

Jen grit her teeth.

Yes, but she was not going to forget the reason this man was here to begin with, which was ultimately incompatible with said feelings.

“It’s so good to be back,” Astarion crooned, stretching after he shoved his suitcase off to the side of the living room to avoid rolling it over his prized cowhide rug. He fastened his eyes on her, dropping into a sensual pout. “Come here, darling.”

Jen raised an eyebrow at him.

“We just walked in. We’ve been travelling all day, and even I can smell that I stink.”

“You’ve smelled worse before,” he returned, waving her off. “Please?”

A please? That fast?  

“Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

“Yes,” he reassured her before looking away in annoyance and sighing. “Alright, then let’s just watch the television together.”

His face brightened suddenly.

“I’ll get the face mask ready!”

Jen eyed him, couldn’t help but try to piece together why the needle on the man’s emotional compass seemed to be spinning in circles.

I mean, he did have a mental breakdown on the plane again.

So maybe his current state had to be some kind of weird after effect, something like that post-migraine euphoria she got sometimes? She was drawing a blank otherwise.

“What do you want to watch, darling?”

He was chock full of all the fuss of his Ascendant rendition without an ounce of the poise, digging through his shelves full of products, giving each a swift glance before discarding the option and moving on to the next one. 

“Er, I figured we’d watch more Below Deck?”

“We can pick something else,” he said, turning around, face disarmingly earnest. “If you want.”

“You are a lot right now,” Jen observed.

Astarion straightened, pausing his rummaging, clutching a few of his various beauty products.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just, I don’t know. Your energy is weird. You’re certain you’re ok? After the plane.”

Astarion crouched there, looking at her in silence. She saw him swallow, saw him finally slowing down and considering what she’d been trying to point out since they’d landed and he’d practically dragged her down the jetbridge skipping, damn near forgetting his checked bag.

His eyes flicked across her face, searching, settling back on her gaze again, clinging to it almost.

“It was an emotional weekend,” he admitted, “especially on the plane. I just need time to process it, I think.”

Jen nodded. It must have been something similar to how she felt about air travel, but seeing as how it was so new to him, he’d not developed his own coping mechanism for it yet.

Or maybe he was being evasive about the days before.

Jen didn’t want to lean into that thought, but she’d be doing herself a disservice if she didn’t consider it. Anyway, the ascension had to be a tricky topic for him, so if he didn’t want her to pry, she’d try to lay off. Gods knew the man was entitled to his privacy as much as any of them.

“I’m worrying you, aren’t I,” he finally asked, face melting into a soft smile.

Jen nodded.

“Yeah. A bit.”

She watched as he sighed deeply and shook himself out.

“I assure you, darling, I’m wonderful. And while I may seem a bit,” he wobbled his head looking for the correct word, “manic, I am truly, honestly fine. And I would like to relax tonight. So would you relax with me here for a while?”

She nodded again, gave him a small smile for good measure. Jen was not completely convinced nothing was amiss, but she had to respect that he wasn’t going to enlighten her.

“Now, what do you watch to relax,” he asked, turning around to finalize his skin care choices.

“Uh, documentaries usually but-”

“Then let's watch those.” Astarion brought over the facial cleansing wipes and flipped the tube of face mask open in front of her. “May I?”

“If you tell me why you’re ceding control of the remote for the first time since I introduced you to it.”

“A reward for good behavior,” he purred back at her, not missing a beat.

Jen blushed and then got suspicious all over again at his response. She examined his face, watched his little unconscious movements as he waited for her to make up her mind.

Yeah. He was still agitated, just trying to hide it now. Astarion waved the tube in front of her again, shooting her a questioning look.

“Yes,” she said, breaking down into a begrudging smile at his insistent face. “Yes, yes. Shall I get yours, too?”

“Would you? And would you run your fingers through my hair again?” He pouted up at her. “It would help tremendously tonight.”

Jen rolled her eyes and shook her head in mock exasperation, but smiled beneath it all.

“Of course.”

His face lit up. Jen leaned forward and closed her eyes so he could tend to her. Once he had her squared away, he handed the supplies over and flopped down in her lap so that she could apply his.

Jen looked the man over as he lay waiting with his eyes closed, every bit as contented as the cat he'd displaced. She found herself flashing back to the first time she’d done this with him, tense and awkward but dearly wanting to help. And then surprised how effective it had been, both for him and for her. Gods, what had gotten him in the state that started this relaxation ritual of theirs?

His quest for Tav.

Right. That thing.

“Hey, so, we starting the quest back up this weekend?”

“Hm?”

“Finding Tav. We’re back home, so we should probably keep doing that.”

“I suppose we should.”

Jen didn’t like the nonchalance of his reply one bit. Was that what had him in this state again? His quest?

“Astarion. You’re not hiding from it again, are you?”

“Not at all. I just… need to consider all the current possibilities.”

“Mmmk. So we’ll go somewhere this weekend again, you think?”

“Probably. I’ll check on my top candidate to determine where.”

Well that was a relief. A simultaneously heart-wrenching and soothing bit of relief, but a relief. She was worried she was going to have to argue harder about it again because she really, desperately needed this man to make some fucking progress, and he wasn’t going to do that if he was burying his head in the sand.

Jen could feel the snare tightening around her more every day, especially after what she'd nearly given voice to yesterday.

The longer he stayed, the worse she was going to get, the more she was going to fall for him, as if she wasn’t far too deep in love with her ‘casual partner’ already. He needed to find Tav soon while she still had a shot at recovering from his impending loss.

“Until then, darling,” Astarion said, startling her out of her thoughts, staring up into her eyes with a focus and purpose that made her uneasy all over again, “can we play our campaign together in the evenings? I would really like to see that story through. Experience it together.”

“Of course we can.”

“Excellent,” he purred. “So what are we watching?”

“Below Deck.”

“No,” he whined. “You pick something. What about that weird fish show?”

“The what?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “You put it on when you first showed me this TV. Fish eating people, which was an odd choice, darling, considering your newfound company.”

“River Monsters,” she said, laughing at her past self.

Yeah, of course she had unthinkingly put on a show that contained a fair bit of killing and eating people shortly after inviting a vampire into her house. Or maybe it was her unconscious association of Astarion with the river, between the song and the camp setting. That would be a more charitable take, anyway, but if she was being totally honest, it was probably a little bit of both.

She stared at the vampire sprawled on her couch, head resting in her lap.

“You knew pretty early on that I was going to let you bite me, didn’t you?”

Astarion burst into laughter.

“You as good as told me that very first night, my dear.” He altered his voice imitating her own. “‘I’m not volunteering yet.’”

Jen cringed and closed her eyes, reliving the embarrassment of a moment that was burned in her brain very clearly. How the fuck had she thought she could sweep a slip of the tongue like that under the rug in front of this man?

“Ooooooh,” she exclaimed as the TV caught her attention and offered a convenient change of subject. “I love this one!”

“Which one is that,” asked Astarion, peering over at it with interest.

“It’s the arapaima! They’re so freaking cool. The Chicago aquarium had one and I got to see it when I flew up there that once. They’re wild.”

Astarion’s face contorted into a confused sneer of disapproval.

“You willingly got on an airplane to see a fish in a tank?”

“No,” she breathed, not at all disagreeing with his assessment of the ludicrousness of the situation had it just been a fish in a tank. “I was there for work, and aquariums are way more than a fish tank. It’s a whole damn building of habitats and you get to see all these creatures you never even knew exist up close. The Atlanta one has freaking whale sharks in it!”

Astarion regarded her silently a moment before turning back to the TV. Jen could tell he was not at all interested in the fish, but for the time being he was more than happy to just lie there on her lap while her fingers traced through his hair.

She’d seen the episode what felt like a hundred times, but still watched raptly as the host got to know the locals and sought the elusive star of the show. Astarion cleared his throat at some point, alerting her that the face mask was dry enough to peel off.

Jen started picking at the edges of his mask absently at first, and then with interest. Apart from how nice it felt to wear it, she found the act of peeling the thing off to be incredibly satisfying. She’d invariably try to take it off in a single piece, ignoring a grinning Astarion’s laugh lines growing more pronounced as he held still to let her focus.

“Ah fuck,” she muttered as the mask tore. Astarion’s grin deepened.

She found herself looking down at his face, freshly revealed from beneath the mask once more. Her eyes would settle on the scar alongside his lip, rove to take in his muted beauty marks, then travel through his curls, before invariably settling on his ears. Not for the first time, she sat with the deep contentedness that looking down at him while he had his eyes closed kindled in her. 

She loved to look at him, and it was rare that he wasn’t the one with eyes wide and watching everything around him. With him like this, she could look as closely as she wanted and not eventually get shy about it. 

Though, her gremlin pointed out with a grin, the past weekend had helped with that whole intimate eye contact thing quite a bit. She’d not been able to look away when he was playing his ascended version of himself.

Jen sighed quietly. He may not want to talk about whatever emotional brouhaha was going on but she agreed with the little monster in her skull that she was insatiably curious about his take on the weekend.

Curious enough to bring it up.

“So, uh, Las Vegas. You approve,” she asked.

“I do,” he purred.

Jen sat fiddling with his locks as she massaged her next thought into a passable sentence.

“And, uh, our game we played… is that something you might… want to play again? In the future.”

He opened his eyes and his lips turned up in a smirk, a smirk that split into a wide grin that let his fangs peek through.

“Did you like it, darling?”

That fucking tone.

“Yeah,” she breathed, hair standing on end. “I’d do that again.”

“Hmmm,” he purred, inclining his head. “What parts?”

Fucking all of it.

He giggled and wiggled beneath her. Her face must have said exactly what she’d been thinking; he was staring up at her conspiratorially now.

“What were your favorite parts?”

Jen pondered this for a moment. She was pretty neutral about the window thing. Obviously she always liked biting and being pinned beneath him. The flogger had been an experience she would be ok with in moderation - if only because it had certainly gotten her in a hell of a state. But damn if it wasn’t that same fucking weakness.

“The fucking rope.” She sighed. “I don’t know what it is about the rope.”

“I love that you love it,” he purred with a chuckle. “Having you all tied up is very arousing.”

Jen watched his chest rising and falling, breaths drawn deeper, eyes fastened on her as she continued thinking, trying to ignore how intense he was being.

“Though the chair and the blindfold were way up there, too. I could tell you, uh, were having a time with me in that chair.” She fidgeted, dodging saying ‘face fucking me’ to him directly. “And you ordering me around? That was…”

She trailed off into a sigh in absence of the perfect word. Astarion’s eyes sparkled.

“Mmm. You’re making me hungry for more, darling.”

“Um, has it been long enough yet, by the way?”

“Hm?”

“I mean, it’s Monday. And it was Friday the last time you…” Jen squirmed and looked away, turning redder. “The last time we shared a meal.”

Astarion broke into delighted laughter, rich and lilting with a hint of darkness swirling beneath.

“You never can get enough, can you?” He glanced away with a pleased smile and looked back at her again. “I still remember that first time. How you shook. How you lost yourself. How you couldn’t say stop.”

Bright ruby eyes smiled up at her.

“Your practical little mind ran right out on you after I got my fangs in that delicious neck.”

Jen flushed deeper crimson. Well, he’d not brought this up ever before, not overtly. She knew he had enjoyed it, too, but fuck. The look on his face as he reminisced was everything she loved to see in his eyes - the hunger, the lust, the pleasure…

And she just was not up for it right this second. Astarion, however, was in a mood again, and his eyes were dragging her under with him.

You started it, her gremlin complained.

Ok but, she wasn’t sure she should be there right now. Not after yesterday. The gremlin pulled a face as she spoke up.

“I think probably just sips and snuggles tonight,” Jen said, voice uncharacteristically squeaky.

“If that’s what my generous little mud mephit wants.”

“I think it’s what she needs,” Jen muttered. They fell quiet, with Jen turning her attention back to the television and Astarion stroking Eva the cat loaf, who had perched atop him. Gods, he was being incredibly strange. Eva was sitting on him again, and the cat had a surer feel for emotional turmoil than Jen did. There had to be something going on that he wasn't saying.

Jen risked a glance back down to the man in her lap she found he was just… looking at her. Not hungrily. Not all low and lusty. Just looking.

This couldn’t have just been the plane. Maybe the whole Ascendant roleplay really did unlock something in him, too. Fuck knew it unlocked doors within herself she’d not realized she’d been holding stubbornly closed against him.

Yeah, like the one ‘I love you’ hid behind?

She was trying not to think about it, but, yes. That one in particular.

Maybe this was just him in full swing ‘relationship’ mode, whatever that meant to him. Normal him. And she just hadn’t seen it yet. Maybe. 

“Hey, um, again, not to pry, but, when you’re, uh, enjoying someone one way or another, do you usually get all your pointy bits involved?”

Astarion giggled.

“Oh no. My 'partners' are usually either food or lovers. Very few have been both.”

“Oh.”

So much for the ‘this is normal’ theory.

She couldn’t help but flash back to the flavor text on his digital version’s underwear of all things. ‘If you’re reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way you got lucky.’ She supposed she must be one of those lucky ones, then, and she suddenly wasn’t sure that she liked where her mind was going with this.

If the weekend had made her feel that much closer to him, and the flip side had been just as emotional…

“How many is very few?”

“I can count them on one,” he cringed and cleared his throat, “er, hand.”

Jen sat quietly with this knowledge for a moment, wondering how the hell she’d lucked out like this. And, yet again, what the hell the man saw in her. She believed him by now, but fuck if she had any clue what exactly the draw was.

“You seem surprised, darling.”

“Little bit.”

“You’re… one of my favorites, you know.”

He was looking up at her again, and it felt like the man was trying to peer directly into her skull or her soul or both.

“After Tav,” Jen replied. Astarion breathed out and smiled.

“Of course.” His smile turned sad. “She is by far my favorite.”

“Hey,” she said, expression and voice dropping in sympathy. “Hang in there. We’ll find her. We just have to keep looking.”

He nodded and looked away, face drawn in pained lines. He glanced back up at her, eyes not as shiny as they had been just minutes before.

“You’ll keep looking, too, won’t you, darling?”

She ran her fingers through his hair, fidgeting playfully with an ear, putting everything she could into a confident smile.

“Absolutely. Your quest is my quest.”

It had been since the second she all but walked into him, and nothing was going to change that.

Notes:

I predict there's going to be a lot of y'all wanting to grab Jen and shake some sense into her right up until the end. Gods know I'm already driving myself bonkers and I'm the one writing it lol...

Our rogue is going to have his work cut out for him, but he's got some more of those 'plans' of his starting to cook.

Chapter 47: Play it with me Now...

Summary:

Jen and Astarion focus on their Baldur's Gate III file at the rogue's behest.

47. Play it with me Now...

“You’re sure you want to do this tonight?”

“Darling, please. You’ve already asked twice. I’m certain.”

Jen glanced over her shoulder at the back of the man’s head. He sat waiting patiently for her to load their save file up again.

We should be looking for Tav.

“We can go out and look for Tav. Go to the mall or Woodbridge.”

“I’d like to play our game together tonight. I’ve got somewhere for us to go all lined up for tomorrow.”

Jen shrugged with far more resignation than she felt and looked back at the screen. It seemed like all he wanted to do since they got back four days prior was play Baldur’s Gate. Well, during daylight hours anyway. Nights had been… something else.

They loaded back in, standing in an alcove with the necromancer Balthazar dead at their feet. Jen had gone straight through the mountain pass to on the first playthrough. She’d cleared out most of the underdark first, but had wandered in through the pass by sheer happenstance. She'd fought the driver, stolen the lantern, and freed the pixie.

From there, she’d marched straight where the story sent her, into the hall with Ketheric Thorm and then up the stairs to receive her mission from Disciple Z’rell.

In her replay, she and Tavstarion had rested, been visited by the Dream Guardian again, and then set off to the mausoleum, only pausing when they got ambushed by shadows at the square and then to talk to Arabella along the way.

Just as before, she had the party fight in through the start of the gauntlet to arrive at the necromancer’s makeshift workshop, and decided that this guy was bad news. She'd reasoned that if no one at the towers seemed to know what had happened to him, or actually care if he was truly dead, she might as well put him in the ground while they were here. They’d already gotten the information they needed out of him after a quick chat, so it had just seemed like an opportune moment.

This meant that she and Astarion were about to face down Yurgir tonight. And that, in turn, meant a pretty important cutscene featuring him immediately afterward. Astarion had all but given up on Tavstarion, more often than not leaving the sorcerer at camp and simply piloting his avatar and half of the party. Jen didn’t mind, though, since he was obsessive about seeing all of his own content at this point.

She crept along after an oddly retreating displacer beast right into an ambush that she'd not caught on to ahead of time originally and had opened up by sending Astarion in after it. And so to start off the night, she told him to go on up and start shooting.

“Are you sure, darling?”

For wanting her to do exactly what she'd recalled doing the first time, he sure had a lot of criticism.

“Do you want me to do what I did the first time or not?”

“Alright,” he said, in that breathy voice that told her he knew this was a bad idea. She knew it now, of course, but that hadn’t been what had shaken out the first time. The first time had nearly been a TPK. In later runs, she simply talked him into offing himself. She was still torn which way she liked better; his explosives were really handy to stockpile, but fuck if she didn't like defeating opponents without lifting a blade.

She watched as digital Astarion chugged a potion for his poison buff, tiptoed forward, mentioned that he had a ‘terribly familiar feeling' of ‘being watched,’ and then sent an arrow sailing into the displacer beast, starting combat with a full initiative bar of surprised Merregons.

And an unsurprised Yurgir.

Jen moved Karlach into position to start swinging on Merregons while Astarion took Wyll and threw down Hunger of Hadar. Once he had some crowd control in place, he sent Lae’zel up to assist Karlach in hand to hand combat against the horde. Jen sent Shadowheart to start keeping track of Yurgir, staying glued to his fat ass with her Guardian Spirits to pop him back out of invisibility.

Jen brought Gale in next to cast Haste on Astarion, as was standard practice by now, and let the turn progress. She swore under her breath when the wizard’s concentration was interrupted moments later by Yurgir who had apparently decided that he wasn’t cool with magic bullshit, Gale in particular.

Jen sighed at the rogue who was now stunned next to an angry pincushion of a displacer beast. She only had eyes for his safety in pretty much any file she played at this point, so she cast invisibility on Tav, who she'd held back just in case something started to go awry, snuck over without being spotted, and dimension doored the incapacitated rogue to safety on the ledge above.

This left a likely less than excited Gale downstairs facing the displacer beast alone.

“Thank you, darling,” Astarion purred behind her.

“I’m not letting my hardest hitter get monched in the second round.”

“Is that the only reason,” he pouted.

“My Tav was attached to you by then,” she muttered back with an eye roll.

“And you?”

She could try to lie, but he knew better.

“Yeah, me too.”

She used her remaining actions to shoot a Merregon off the ledge to the floor below, use her second attack to finish off the one Karlach had opened up on next to Yurgir, and then teleported back down to assist Gale by way of the mobile shot she’d used to send the first Merregon flying.

“Always a whirlwind on the field,” Astarion noted with approval. “Tav was very hard to pin down.”

Jen didn’t respond other than to roll her eyes at him again where he couldn’t see. He’d upped the commentary on their playthrough since they’d been back, and she was still adjusting to hearing ‘Tav this’ and ‘Tav that’ all the time. At least the woman was clearly on his mind again.

As expected, Gale hit the dirt as Nessa the displacer beast and a pissed off Merregon piled on him before he had a chance to move in the next round.

Things got hairy for Tav for a moment as she was now the only one standing below, but by the top of the following turn, Astarion had recovered and sent arrows raining in to help, flipping the situation to their favor. Karlach and Shadowheart kept Yurgir occupied in a corner, Spirit Guardians not allowing him to slip into invisibility, Wyll kept his spell channeling while picking off weakened targets, and Tav and Astarion tore in from the shadows together, slicing and stabbing their way through the chaos. Oh, and Gale continued his dirt nap.

“No! Don’t finish him yet,” Jen barked at Astarion as Yurgir’s health dipped dangerously low. “Just hold fire a second while they whittle him down.”

She waited for Spirit Guardians to do just this, grinning and sending the party scampering after free explosives when Yurgir scattered the bunch he intended to kill them with.

Astarion giggled in devious approval.

“Oh yeah,” Jen grinned. “Can never have enough explosives. And those orthon ones are really nice. Now you can kill him.” 

"With pleasure," he growled back, sending the final arrow home.

The party, especially Gale, who had to be revived again, was looking rather worse for the wear after the encounter, so Jen teleported them all to just outside Moonrise before returning to camp to take a long rest.

Astarion wasted no time swapping back to Tavstarion to free himself for potential cutscenes.

“Alright, I’m at the tent, darling. Go talk to me.”

Jen shook her head gain. Thee mother fucker was being so damn insistent with his interactions. It’s like the further they got in the story the more wrapped up in it he was becoming, especially regarding him and Tav. She couldn’t really fault him, she supposed. She had been equally caught up in it by now. Her original idea of playing it cool had fallen entirely to bits by now as her Tav, and by extension herself, was 100% head over heels for him.

Familiar fucking feeling, that.

Jen clicked on digital Astarion, grinning as she skimmed the dialogue options. She wasted no time selecting the first one.

‘The orthon is dead. Aren’t you pleased?’

“The orthon is nothing. I'll have my satisfaction when Raphael makes good on his word.”

She would never not chide the sassy elf here.

‘Repeat after me: Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.’

Jen giggle-snorted as she watched the digital Astarion pitch a momentary fit before repeating the line back in a voice that started far too sarcastically and ended on a more thoughtful note.

“Thank you for helping me. It was very kind.”

Her momentary amusement faded, however, when she looked at the other question waiting to be asked.

Jen clicked the option to leave instead. They were already about to have a visit from the theatrical cambion with more than enough talk of Cazador. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear his sorrow as he talked about his ‘family life.’

Jen walked her Tav over to the bedroll.

“You’re ready for this?”

She heard a deep breath and a sigh behind her.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, darling.”

“Remember, we can stop any time.” She snorted. “Use your elements.”

This elicited a wry chuckle, making her smile.

Jen clicked the bedroll and leaned back in the chair as Raphael appeared and started his monologue. They listened as he blabbed about Yurgir and the House of Hope before digital Astarion broke in impatiently.

“We delivered the devil. Now I want what I'm owed - we had a deal.”

“Indeed we did. I discovered all there is to know about those scars of yours - it’s a rather grim tale, even for my tastes.”

“Tav was ready to cut him down here,” Astarion noted quietly.

“Yeah, me too,” she replied equally softly, choosing her dialogue option.

‘Stop stalling.’

“As you wish. Brace yourself, Astarion, we’re about to unveil your destiny.”

“He called it that, you know. Like it was a forgone conclusion. Bloody devils.”

“Carved into that ivory skin of yours is one part of an infernal contract between the archdevil Mephistopheles and your former master, Cazador Szarr. In full, the contract states that Cazador will be granted knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile it has never been performed. The Rite of Profane Ascension.

“It promises to be a marvelous ceremony. Very elaborate, incredibly ancient, and entirely diabolical. If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant. All the strengths of his vampiric form will be amplified, and alongside them he will enjoy the luxuries of the living.”

Jen watched their avatars standing together, listening to the tale, desperately wishing that she could just make Tav reach out and grab his hand. They were right next to each other, after all.

But then she thought about it and felt a pang in her chest. He’d not confessed yet.

“I wish I could have held your hand there, but you wouldn’t have taken it, would you? You still didn’t really…” Jen hesitated and faltered.

“Understand a comforting touch,” he finished for her. She nodded. He continued sadly. “I would have insisted on having my hands free to defend myself.”

“The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun. But the ritual has its price, as all worthwhile things do. Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls, including all of his vampiric spawn, if he is to ascend.

“Imagine how he felt, then, when one of those precious spawn simply disappeared into thin air. The only missing ingredient is Astarion.”

“Fucking hell, I have never been so glad for mind flayers,” she muttered, feeling the shiver down her spine as she tried not to imagine what would have happened to the man right behind her without them.

Astarion choked out a terse laugh.

“You are the final piece he requires to complete the ritual - your scars bind you to it. Your soul will set off a very wave of death, bringing Cazador his twisted life.”

Jen's discomfort grew into an unpleasant lump deep in her chest. The thought of him suffering at the hands of Cazador for two centuries only to be sent screaming into the hells to suffer there for eternity… She suppressed another shudder.

“And that, my tragic and toothsome friend, is that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere.”

They watched digital Astarion turn to face Tav, lost deep in thought, a look she recognized by now as the one he always wore when he’d caught the trail of something and was piecing it together.

‘You’re… quiet. It’s unsettling.’

“It’s a lot to take in.”

Truly, it was. Especially with the man right behind her this time. Jen felt her face twist into sympathetic sadness with his avatar's.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Hug me, and go put more face mask on.”

This evoked a breathy little chuckle from the man sitting so quietly behind her. Jen smiled softly and clicked her response, the one she'd known was the only true way out.

‘You’ll never be free while Cazador lives.’

“I hate how right you are. I knew he wouldn’t leave me alone, even when I was just another wretched toy for him to play with. But if I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll hunt me to the ends of Faerûn. I need to take the fight to him. And I need you to help me.”

Something occurred to Jen this time that hadn’t in all her many playthroughs. This was the first time Astarion had genuinely asked for help, hard on the heels of Tav’s teasing about this very thing. He must have taken the message to heart, trusting that she would be there for him in this, perhaps starting to believe in a little kindness for the very first time.

‘Of course I’ll help. We’ll hunt him down and kill him.’

“Thank you.”

“May I ask you something,” Astarion said behind her quietly.

“What’s up?”

“Why are you a bard, darling?”

It was not the question she was expecting. She had been anticipating yet another question seeking her feelings about the scene, or her reaction to his digital doppelganger, after which he’d invariably opine about Tav’s.

“Huh?”

“Why did you choose to play a bard over anything else?”

Jen paused, thinking about this because it was something she'd puzzled over more than once. She’d tried out so many classes and somehow she just kept coming straight back to the bard. Monk hadn’t made it past the creche. Sorcerer made it to Baldur’s Gate and got dropped. Cleric, too, though she’d smacked Cazador straight back into the nine hells where he’d no doubt come from with her holy magic before leaving that character to rot in the save file graveyard.

She’d finished the game on a ranger-rogue combo once, and that was alright, but she wouldn’t play it again. Druid she’d done a few times through and enjoyed. But every other damn save was another bard, and four out of five of those were the same sword spec with some variation of multiclass or kits. Or the exact same damn anchor her first Tav had been, allowing her to experiment more with the rest of the group.

Hell, she hadn’t even questioned it the first time; she’d looked at the options, thought about what she’d most enjoyed playing in her Dungeons and Dragons campaigns and not had to think twice.

“I don’t know. It just feels right.”

Astarion was staring at her now with that bizarre intensity he’d brought back from Las Vegas.

Like the answer isn’t enough. Like he’s hungry for more.

She shrugged at him.

“It fits. I guess it's how I see myself in that kind of world, or how I’d want to be. I mean, that or druid are the only ones I’ve played through more than once to the end, and bard has been a dozen or more times, honestly.”

“So you’re a bard.”

“I mean, if I was anything I’d lean more toward druid, realistically.”

Astarion made a dismissive noise and waved her off, then tilted his head, considering something.

“What is it about the druid you like, darling?”

“Shapeshifting mostly. Being able to turn into something else. Affinity with nature and the whole concept of the cycle just resonates.”

“I could see that,” he mused. “Being something… different, but the same. Your energy carrying on. That sort of thing.”

“Yeah. That precisely.” Jen wrinkled her forehead. “You feeling ok? That was weirdly philosophical for you.”

“I’m fine, darling. Shall we also carry on?”

She glanced at the screen.

“Should I ask your doppelganger the next two questions? It’s more Cazador talk.”

Jen couldn’t keep from nearly spitting the bastard’s name as she said it, something Astarion noticed with a soft grin.

“Best to do it now,” he sighed. “I could think of nothing else from here until the moment his wretched corpse lay truly dead at my feet, and I expect this will be reflected in this game given how it's all gone so far.”

Jen turned back to the screen.

‘What do you intend to do about Cazador’s ritual?’

“Before anything else, I need to know where it’s happening. To the public, Cazador Szarr is just an ordinary noble. A bit reclusive perhaps, but just another of ‘the great and the good’ of Baldur’s Gate. He has a grand palace on the hills of the Gate, where he hosts the city’s high society. I don’t know if he’d perform the ritual there - it feels too public, he’d risk exposure.”

‘That giant gothic monstrosity has been inhabited by vampires this whole time?’

“I know. Subtle, isn’t it?”

She exhaled, amused as always by his reactions.

‘We should ask around once in the city - maybe someone’s heard something.’

“I hope so because I am not striking another deal with Raphael. Who knows what he’d demand this time. But if the citizens of Baldur’s Gate don’t know anything, my brothers and sisters might. Cazador is a master of secrets, but the other spawn must have seen something.”

Yeah, she had thought he’d gotten off pretty light on his first deal with a devil, all things told. Against the backdrop of Wyll’s contract, how Raphael was pursuing Mol, and the later encounter with him in the House of Hope, he’d been outright pleasant. She supposed he’d had his reasons and had, in fact, liked them as far as adventurers went.

It was a shame they didn’t actually get tea and brandy with Raphael at any point. Her Tav and Astarion probably could have made quite the dinner date out of it.

This left one other dialogue option to pursue, and it was the one she’d been avoiding.

‘I never asked - are you Cazador’s only spawn? Or are there others like you?’

“Cazador sired seven spawn - me and my six ‘brothers and sisters’. He always insisted we were a family - even when he was carving scars into our flesh. I was one of his first, some of the others came years later.”

Jen cringed unhappily. She knew the line that followed and while it was always awful to hear, this time it dredged a visceral pit in her stomach.

“He was a monster to us all, but did take special pleasure in my pain. He said my screams sounded sweetest."

She would never understand how someone could be so cruel to Astarion.

"And now that I’m gone… I don’t know. I pity the other six…”

Not for the first time she supposed that was part of why he’d been chosen. Between his looks and his talent for making someone feel like the very center of the world, he was perfect to lure in victims. Perfect for a cruel master to turn his ability to make a lover feel safe and seen into a weapon.

She had never settled on a definite pre-spawn headcanon, but she was certain that Cazador had seen the tarnished radiance in this man, had reveled in the chance to destroy it or corrupt it.

And Astarion wasn’t just pixels on a screen anymore. He was sitting behind her, silent, stiff, and still. She could feel the bile in her throat as her fingertips remembered the feel of his scar beneath them as she slathered him in sunscreen or clung to his back. She knew all too well what he sounded like crying out, a sound her brain could easily twist into a cry of anguish.

“I think I need to stop for the night,” she whispered. Astarion turned and looked at her. She met his eyes, face strained. “Can I just hold you right now? I don’t want to think about this any more.”

Astarion exhaled softly and smiled at her with sad eyes.

“You won’t catch me arguing with any of that, darling.”

“Good. We’re going to kick his fucking ass. I’ll make him fucking dance like a fool while you fucking stab.”

Astarion cracked a small smile as she blinked back tears.

“Planning a gruesome death already, are you?”

“A humiliating one. It will never be enough.”

His smile faded.

“No. No, it won’t. But it will be something.”

Jen saved the game and closed it out, felt Astarion’s fingers caress her cheek softly, tracing the lines tear threatened to fall on. He spoke quietly.

“Let’s retire for the night. We’ll watch something silly and get some rest.” Jen nodded. “It's a big day tomorrow, darling. We’ve got to make our way down into Dallas proper for our escapade.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “We’ve got to find this woman.”

Astarion said nothing, but he didn’t have to. His sigh told her plenty.

Notes:

He's trying. He's trying so hard to try to nudge her in the right direction!

I apologize if this one is a little wonky - it's been a minute since we've played the file with these two, so I'm readjusting to writing these scenes again. We're going to start getting some crucial moments pretty hard on the heels of each other in the upcoming chapters, though. I don't have a final chapter count just yet, but I'd wager I'll have a rough estimate before the end of next month, as wild as that sounds to me!

Chapter 48: If Wishes were Fishes

Summary:

Jen and Astarion go on a weekend adventure to 'find Tav' again.

48. If Wishes were Fishes

“There’s really a candidate at the aquarium?”

“Perhaps. Won’t know until we go inside, will we?”

“I wish I found this one before the one at the Stockyards,” she said excitedly.

Although maybe not. That lambskin blazer he was wearing was just… Words did not do it justice on him. Only a sigh would do. A sigh that was inevitably followed by a cheeky laugh from him if he caught her staring.

She kind of hoped this might be the Tav. She’d love to get to know a woman who worked at an aquarium.

“What’s she do?”

Astarion gave her a blank stare. Mmk. So he’d planned this with his usual thoroughness.

“Ok, well, do you know where she works here? Is it customer facing or…?”

“Let’s just wait until we get there, and then have a look around together,” he suggested.

She wasn’t going to argue about getting to spend the day in the aquarium, of course, but if the woman was studying fish or caring for them, odds were good that she was behind the scenes.

They’d taken the train, mostly because Jen was not going to go through the headache of trying to navigate downtown proper when she was unfamiliar with it. It certainly wasn’t laid out in a nice, reasonable grid pattern like a proper city. Plus, parking was always a pain, so they’d parked in the free commuter lot at the end of the train line and sat together watching the winter day slide by outside the windows of the light rail.

After disembarking at the station, they’d only needed to walk a few blocks to get to the Dallas World Aquarium. Astarion was examining the city around them intently, frequently looking up at the red brick buildings they slid between.

“Awfully large, but the streets are empty.”

“These are small,” she replied. “The proper skyscrapers are visible on the other side of the block. Those are the big buildings. And yeah, this city has probably the worst downtown of any of the ones I've visited.”

They made their way down a narrow street that Jen would have thought was more of an alley had the phone not told her to walk this way to get to the entrance, which was also not as conspicuous as she’d figured it would be. What’s more, the walkway into the aquarium was actually lined with foliage and decoration that she realized were open air exhibits.

They wound their way up a curving ramp, and Jen couldn’t help but wish that more aquariums would do something like this instead of funneling everyone through boring rope lines on a slab of empty concrete. Watching the hornbills above them pick at food and preen was far more interesting than standing in a sea of people and waiting your turn.

“Should we split up for entry,” she asked as they approached the top of the ramp, distracted by a large, two-toned fish in a pond below them.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Astarion said dismissively. “As she’s not likely to be in any one particular spot, we may as well stick together today.”

Astarion stepped forward to pay with his quest money and they turned to go inside, ascending the stairs to begin following the path through the exhibits.

Jen’s eyes grew wide as they reached the top and she looked around.

Aquarium didn’t quite do what she was looking at justice - it felt far more like an indoor jungle, dotted with waterways and full to the brim with tropical plants, discreet netting to keep what she assumed were more temperamental or flighty species safely tucked away in an appropriate habitat.

“So, er, we just walk around,” Astarion asked.

“Yes! And look at all the things! This is wild. I’ve never been down here.”

Jen stared fascinated as a large cloud of mist billowed out from a ‘rock’ ledge somewhere above them, settling down over pathway before spreading out and dissipating around them.

“Oooh, this must be like a cloud forest! I bet that’s it exactly! C’mon, let’s go look at what’s over there!”

She grabbed Astarion, who seemed far more interested in the building and the fact that there was such a riot of flora and fauna completely contained inside.

He followed along after her as she dodge strollers and toddlers to get a look at a small open air pool with a waterfall dropping down into it from above. Astarion flinched and took a step back.

“You look at that one if you want, darling. I’m going to stay back.”

Jen’s head snapped up. Had he seen the Tav candidate already? She glanced around, looking for the mystery woman, but didn’t see anyone who could fit the description. Instead, she turned to Astarion.

“You alright?”

“Running water,” he muttered, eyeing the waterfall with distaste.

“Oh. Right. Can you not get near it even?”

“I could, but it keeps splashing. Those little droplets feel like pinpricks, my dear, so I’ll just stay here for now.”

“Sorry,” she said, excitement dulled by having yanked him unthinkingly over into a shower of pain.

“It’s not your fault, darling. Please, take your time and I’ll just watch nice and safe back here.”

Jen crouched down to see what was below the waterline and found herself staring at a wildly colored fish of some variety. She had no idea what it was, and there wasn’t a sign anywhere, so she spent some time looking at it, admiring the spots near its gills, the red of its fins, the tiger stripes adorning its tail. It was staying pretty hidden, so she obligingly pointed it out to curious kids who kept dropping by, before she left the creature be.

Astarion had been sitting patiently on a short wall behind her, and smiled when she turned around to him.

“Watching out for Tav?”

“Always.”

“If you want to just hang back, that’s fine,” she offered again.

“That’s alright, darling. No doubt she’ll be well occupied in here. I’m sure I’ll have time to slip away if I need to.”

She shrugged as he rejoined her.

“I’m not sure what the draw of this place is, though,” he muttered as they continued.

“Looking at cool creatures you’ve never seen before. Learning about them. Watching them.”

“They’re all just standing there,” he complained as they leaned on a railing, taking in a long-legged, hefty-beaked bird that did its dinosaur ancestors credit.

“Not all of them,” she protested.

Astarion looked around pointedly again.

“Nothing but plants.”

“Ok, fine. Let’s make it a game. Who can find the creatures first.”

He laughed.

“I don’t think that would be a very fun game for you, my dear. Not without a rather sizable head start.”

She was used to winning that one with Jer, but he probably had a point.

“Ok, then what about this one,” she said, spying a little black figure with golden paws scurrying up a nearby tree. “How Do They Taste?”

Astarion cocked his head and grinned.

“Well, now you’re speaking my language, darling.”

Jen grinned back and pointed.

“That one?”

Astarion followed her gaze and considered the little tamarin who sat scratching himself in the limbs above.

“Hmmm,” he said, focusing intently on the animal. She watched as he inhaled deeply.

“You can smell that from here? That one animal specifically?”

“Eh, not particularly well. More of a whiff with everything else in here. It’s quite a chaotic little place. But I bet that one would taste like… low quality chocolate. I don’t think it would be entirely unappealing, honestly.”

He trailed off, examining the creature rather more closely as it darted through branches. Jen shifted on her feet a little uncomfortably.

“Er, have you ever drank a monkey?”

“Is that what that is?”

“Yeah.”

“A tiny little snack sized monkey. Mmm. It best not get too close,” he grinned, turning his mischievous gaze back to her.

“You’re not going to catch that thing. It’s way too agile.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow at her and said nothing.

“Ok, look, you’re probably agile enough, but those limbs are not going to hold your weight.”

She started chuckling as she pictured him leaping after a tiny, terrified tamarin as the crowd looked on, mouths agape. Inevitably, the chase ended with him cursing as a branch broke beneath him, sending him two floors down into a fish tank where he proceeded to panic until he worked out that it wasn't running water.

At which point he crawled out and spent the next twenty minutes lamenting his ruined hair.

“What about birds,” she asked.

“Flying things are hard to catch. I prefer red meat, anyway.”

“Sooooo fish blood is a no, too?”

He grimaced.

They continued walking together, stopping every time something new and exciting caught Jen’s eye. They leaned on another railing, and Astarion snorted as he looked down below. Jen followed his gaze to see probably the largest croc she’d ever seen in person.

“It very clearly wants to eat that small child,” he giggled, "a feeling I can sympathize with."

“What about reptiles? What do they taste like?”

He made a face again.

“This game isn’t nearly as fun with animals as it is with people, darling. Although, I wouldn’t mind trying that crocodile. I've never had one and it does look like it would put up quite a fight.”

“With how big that thing is, I think even you’d have trouble getting your fangs through its hide.”

“Nothing a quick slice of the dagger couldn’t fix.”

She suddenly pictured him as an alligator wrestler, poised on its back, jaws held shut with a single hand and lifted into the air as he sliced effortlessly through the scales on its throat. Having opened his meal up, he flipped it on its back and held tight, bathing delightedly in a fountain of blood as it thrashed hopelessly in his grasp. 

Jen swallowed.

Why am I like this?

She cleared her throat.

“So crocodile rated higher than tamarin right now?”

“I’d prefer both. That beast for the main course, the little squirrel monkey for dessert. Although,” he frowned, “I could swear I’m smelling fresh blood.”

“Maybe something’s food.”

“Perhaps.”

“Let’s stop in the cafe real quick, make sure Tav’s not hiding out in there,” Jen said as they approached the far side of the building and a treetop styled eatery. She lead Astarion inside and glanced through the cadre of faces working the counter and behind them in the kitchen area. 

No dice.

They wandered back out again and continued down the way. Jen was surprised at the amount of staff she’d seen just hanging out around the paths. She supposed when so much of the exhibits were open air like this, the staff would be more visible.

But still not a sign of the Tav look alike.

“I swear that’s blood and that it’s getting stronger,” Astarion muttered again as they looped past the crocodiles on the same level as them now. “It smells like something bovine.”

Jen said nothing about this. Of course he was preoccupied by fresh blood, but she was preoccupied by trying to locate the Aquarium Tav, turning to stick her nose around a corner, trying to see down a corridor labelled ‘Staff Entrance’ but glimpsing no sign of any humans. They rounded a bend, passing beneath the floor above into an area set up to mimic a cave. Jen glanced briefly at the tarantulas, but arachnids weren’t really her thing, so they continued on.

“It’s coming from there,” Astarion said, staring straight ahead at a large exhibit bathed in blue light. Jen caught the flash of a dark shape behind the glass and approached, already trying to reason out what was in there. Something nocturnal no doubt with the lighting. She walked up to the glass and looked up at a heat lamp beneath which dozens of fluffy little creatures hung, bunched together for warmth and safety.

As her eyes adjusted she started to make out the detail on the fuzzy groups and an individual here or there, smiling as she realized what exactly she was looking at.

“Hey look! They're your friends!”

“Excuse me?”

“Those are vampire bats!” Jen looked down at the floor of the enclosure and pointed. “There’s your blood.”

Astarion tore his gaze off the creatures hanging around and looked down, too.

“So it is.”

Jen couldn’t tell if he was interested or disgusted at the moment. He stood watching them intently, but was hanging back stiffly.

“Look at them,” she crooned, crouching down. “He’s getting a little drink!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You think they’re cute don’t you?”

“They’re freaking adorable. Look at their little tongues! Oh my goodness.”

Jen watched two bats grasping opposite edges of the dish with their hooked little wings and sticking their tiny little faces down, tongues lapping happily at a dish of blood that would have been olympic swimming pool sized if scaled up from one vampire to the other.

“You are such a weirdo,” Astarion groaned behind her.

“Seriously. Get down here and look at them.”

Astarion sighed loudly, but crouched next to her.

“Look at him. He’s just sipping away happily. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be doing the same damn thing if you had a whole ass pool full of blood. You’d be on a fucking floaty in the middle of it with a comically long sippy straw living your best damn life. He’s basically doing that.”

Astarion snorted. The bat leaned away from the dish, little nose and ears wiggling around before it nearly face planted the blood again in its haste to continue drinking.

“I suppose. He’s awfully small isn’t he? Not at all like those nasty brutes Cazador kept about.”

Jen started at the name.

“Oh.” She continued hastily. “No, they’re only little things here.”

Cazador had kept bats. She knew this. She fucking fought him a billion times and there were always a limitless supply of the things. Fuck, she should have connected that together before making a fuss over these little guys.

“I like these much better,” Astarion pronounced, watching the creatures sip happily and stagger away to recover. He giggled. “Little drunkards.”

Jen didn’t have anything else to say at the moment. She’d been thoroughly derailed by Astarion’s casual dropping of his former master’s name. He, of course, had still spat the word as though it was a slur, but that seemed to be it. No freezing. No sudden turn of emotion. It accounted for that momentary stiffness, though.

“Um,” she piped up finally, still half expecting more fallout. “I suppose we ought to keep looking for Tav.”

“Yes,” Astarion agreed, straightening with a smile and turning back to the bats. “Enjoy your feast, little cousins.”

Jen looked at him sideways.

Ok, she had a habit of calling every damn animal she met ‘friend’ but Astarion calling them cousins just felt weird.

He did it cus you do it.

Yeah. That’s why it felt weird. It was very much not a him thing to do.

Jen shook herself out mentally and glanced around for more hidden corridors, hoping a Tav look alike in a blue aquarium shirt would just happen to pop out of one as they passed.

But she did not.

In fact, they'd gone through almost two thirds of the aquarium and had seen neither hide nor hair of any Tav look alike.

“Uh, what's your plan if we don't see her before we're at the end?”

“Could walk through again,” he offered. “See if anything interesting is actually moving this time.”

“Or split up and stake out staff doors.”

“If we're staying longer, then I would prefer to wait with you for company.”

Less efficient. Should split up.

Jen sighed. He wouldn't go for that. It was also less fun, and Astarion was nothing if not an inveterate seeker of entertainment. 

They continued down a hallway that proceeded to open up in one of her favorite aquarium features: the underwater tunnel. A silent shape slid by overhead, easily five or six feet long, sleek and streamlined.

Astarion stopped walking and glanced at the shark as it passed overhead. 

“What a magnificent creature.”

“Tiger shark,” Jen smiled. “Like your tooth, actually.”

Astarion slipped his hand into his pocket and produced the little fossil, holding it in his palm and watching the creatures circling overhead. Jen blinked in surprise. She hadn't realized that he had been carrying it around with him.

“They're a different color,” he observed as a toothy grin slid past the plexiglass.

“The one you have is fossilized. Turned to stone over millions and millions of years.”

“Hmm. From the jaws a fearsome creature like that, left to be pulled out of the steam by your clever little hands, and finally into my pocket for luck.”

He tucked the tooth away, leaving Jen staring at him, unexpectedly touched.

And slightly uncomfortable. She didn't know him to be sentimental, except with people he felt truly close to.

Like Karlach.

Or his missing Tav.

Like. Karlach.

Astarion didn't fuck Karlach.

She looked at him, trying to place what exactly they were for the fiftieth time this week. Maybe he and Karlach had... But no, that would have been impossible, obviously, with her condition. And by the time it would have been an option, he had been Tav’s, body, heart, and soul from the sound of it.

Well at least they were out looking for her again. And he had his lucky tooth. That had to count for something.

“What are you thinking about, my dear?”

Jen looked back down from the tunnel ceiling to meet his piercing gaze and shook her head. 

“Nothing. Just thinking. Shall we keep looking?”

“If you'd like,” he said, offering her the crook of his arm. She noticed him fidgeting in his pocket and realized he must have been playing with the tooth.

We have got to find her.

They didn't. Not in the aquarium anyway. Astarion didn't seem as emotionally exhausted as he had after Maria or Sarah, either. He seemed positively peaceful still, actually.

Maybe because they hadn't even seen her? Jen had offered to go through again, but Astarion declined, said maybe she hadn't even been working today and that he’d prefer to leave it be for the time being.

Jen took him at his word, but frowned. Something still seemed off with him, but damn if she could figure out what.

Notes:

If wishes were fishes they'd have a gazillion of them in this chapter and could just wish it all perfect. Our rogue is very much in the throw shit at the wall and see if it sticks phase of planning and our poor, clueless Jenny T. is none the wiser. Not wiser yet, but certainly still sus. I honestly just like sending them to random places together and letting things play out, so there's probably going to be a couple more of these.

The next few chapters, however, are going to get a little more intense, a bit out of the frying pan into the fire for them both, though in different ways. Hang in there and I promise it'll turn out wonderfully!

Also, there are not tiger sharks at the aquarium. I fibbed on the species to make it fit better. :) There are vampire bats, though, and I spent far too much time watching them last time I went.

Chapter 49: Unmasking

Summary:

Jen and Astarion play through an emotional scene, and seeing him like that triggers a realization.

Notes:

It removed my italics - forgive me while I edit this AGAIN real quick if you're catching it right after posting. Should be good now.

So it turns out I had extra technical difficulties this morning and this chapter got double posted. RIP. I've fixed it but lost a few of y'all's comments in the process. My humblest apologies!

49. Unmasking

Astarion was still being strange. Jen had thought maybe after a trip out looking for Tav, he’d get back to his normal pursuits, but he hadn’t.

No, it had been a solid week of weirdness now. His shows sat on the back burner in favor of her old comfort watches. His sunbathing began after her work hours started and ended before them. He had even started picking through the woods with her in the evenings, and that was truly odd.

And gods, the evenings together. The way he cradled her in his arms as he drank, murmuring to her afterward in what she could only assume was Elvish while she trembled against him. The way the man, always attentive and skillful, just melted down into her with need, leaving her feeling so damn full and breathless.

It’s like that whole Ascendant-consort thing had triggered something possessive in him. No, not possessive. That felt like it had a negative connotation and this didn’t, really. Clingy wasn't quite it either. Attentive?

She just couldn’t place it and it was eating at her more with every passing day. Contrary to her high hopes, the aquarium yesterday had done nothing to settle the feeling that something odd was going on with him. And now here they were on a Sunday playing the day away at home instead of venturing forth.

Jen looked back at her screen at a more solvable problem for the time being: where to head next. 

They’d loaded into camp after the night Astarion’s scars had been revealed to him, and while Jen knew what was coming next, she wouldn’t simply hit the long rest again just because she was eager to show him the scene that absolutely broke her in the first playthrough.

Did they have more than enough supplies to rest whenever they chose? Yes. But there was a part of her that abhorred ‘wasting’ a rest. They had to go fight something or discover something.

Most of the sequence of the Shadow Cursed lands from her first playthrough had turned to blurry mush; the important bit had been that she had somehow managed to not wander into Araj before Astarion’s confession, which had been a blessed little bit of luck since it was by far the more emotional of the two.

Jen watched Astarion's avatar wandering in circles, looking at things, looting things. She’d better keep the wandering elf away from Moonrise for now. She supposed they should actually go meet Jaheira in Last Light, seeing as how it wasn’t even on the map yet.

“Mmk, this way.”

Astarion took his handful of characters and followed after her, stopping in the tollhouse and making a soft sound to get her attention.

“You want to kill her don’t you?”

“There is so much gold up there, darling. Can you just talk her to death for me?”

Jen turned her little band around and headed up the stairs to confront Gerringothe Thorm, who she had, in fact, fully intended to talk into exploding once again. This was one of the better perks of being so charismatic, after all, being able to get out of nearly every complicated fight in act two.

She remembered the shock of actually having to do these fights in her fourth or fifth playthrough. Hell, she’d not had to fight the toll collector until her honour run, and the shock of watching Astarion, the party’s gold hoarder, get insta-gibbed was not something she forgot.

But as a bard, this was simple. All it took was a little logic and cunning and Jen talked her into bursting into gold pieces once again as Astarion ran around the building scooping every last coin into his pouch.

“One Thorm down, three to go,” he proclaimed cheerily. “Lead on.”

Jen led them out to the east and then north through the meazel ambush, (having seven of them all together was vastly unfair to the meazels, it turned out) and continued on, swinging wide to fight the blighted vine beasts while they were out this way and pretty fresh, too.

With health pools and spell slots appropriately lowered, she swung them down toward Last Light, where Jaheira confronted them and Mol came to the rescue. Jen walked over to the vendor to sell wares, and sighed in exasperation.

“Why is my pack full of rope?”

Astarion giggled.

“Because you like it so very much.”

She snorted in amusement and took a closer look at all the random crap that had sorted to the bottom of her inventory. Apparently she’d started accumulating a rope and pearl collection. She added them to their own container for safe keeping. Well, she’d have to start slipping him blood banks just as soon as they found the morgue or House of Healing.

Jen opted to smell the wine, identified the truth herb, and drink it anyway in a show of goodwill as Astarion tched in disappointment behind her.

“Old Jaheria,” he muttered. “I liked her. Very canny woman.”

“Liked?”

“Yes. She passed some time ago. Not long after all this.”

“Oh.”

Jen wasn’t sure what else to say to that, and so she finished talking to the old druid before deciding to bring Karlach over to Dammon again and finally drag her into the hug she so desperately needed. She thought briefly about tackling the Isobel fight, but decided that was a skirmish best left to fresh faces since it had a tendency to be easy as hell or immediately go sideways.

She sent the prompt to go to camp for a long rest out.

“You ready?”

“For what, darling?”

“The moment the entire game changed for me.”

She clicked the bedroll.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.”

Astarion breathed out behind her as Jen looked at the nervous face before her on the screen.

‘Are you all right?’

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I just-... feel awful. Look, I had a plan. A nice simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.”

She watched him struggle on, theatricality and sincerity at war within him.

“It was easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you… Which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

Jen smiled in sympathy as the man on the screen twisted back and forth nervously before the look of admiration broke through.

“You’re-... you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Astarion spoke up behind her.

“What were you thinking, watching this,” he asked quietly.

“I mean, I was kind of glad you brought it up because honestly, I was doing the same thing at first. I figured it might be handy to have a possessive vampire at my back and that becoming willing takeout was probably the best way to accomplish that.”

Astarion gasped and turned, hand placed upon his chest, face scandalized, but eyes glinting.

“Darling!”

Jen grinned ruefully.

“Yeah well my plan fell to shit long before yours. You walked out from behind that fucking tree back in act one and I knew I was in way over my fucking head.” Astarion’s smile softened.

“I… think my plan started falling apart then, too. But that,” he gestured at the screen, “was all I knew. And I was terrified. I couldn’t bear to face Tav until I couldn’t bear not to.”

Jen continued the scene.

‘So the nights we spent together didn’t mean anything?’

“Of course they did - that’s the problem! Or part of it. Being close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

She felt that familiar flicker of sadness and kinship within her as his face twisted into an expression of disgust.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how else to be with someone, no matter how much I’d like to.”

For once in her life she’d known what the man in front of her had needed to hear.

‘I care about you. Deeply.’

“Really?”

The next choice, on the other hand, was where Jen had hesitated the first time, staring into that worried, hopeful face in the night. Her own tendency was to try to explain everything, but something had made her stop and reconsider before clicking.

It hadn’t been her first instinct, but reading the first two options, she realized that the man had probably never felt a kind touch in his two centuries as a slave, had gone longer than her entire life without a touch that didn’t ask for anything else. A touch that sought to reassure and comfort, and nothing more.

‘Hug him.’

Jen watched as Tav smiled, sincere and glowing, and stepped forward, pulling Astarion into a deep hug. She watched him freeze, confused and surprised, stiff and unsure. She watched him let his breath out slowly, a breath he probably hadn’t even realized he’d been holding just then, before lowering his arms, placing them tentatively around Tav.

He leaned in, head resting on her shoulder with a visible sigh of relief. Tav stepped back, beaming back at him as his face lit up.

“You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next. But I know that this? This is nice.”

The way that man stared at Tav…

“This is the scene that changed everything in this game for me.”

Astarion turned and looked at her, eyes searching.

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I gave two shits about the parasite from here on. Fuck the worm. You became my main quest from then on.”

Astarion smiled, eyes unfocusing for a moment.

“It was the absolute most intense rug pull I’ve ever felt in a game before, realizing that I did not give a fuck what happened to my character, but that I was going to lose my mind if I couldn’t get you through it ok.”

Astarion was watching her speak again, listening quietly, face soft and earnest, looking at her... in the same breathless way his doppelganger had just stared at Tav.

Her heart lurched as her feelings caught up to the realization.

That was the expression.

That’s what kept slipping through this past week. That’s the uncannily familiar look that had her so unsettled. Jen shook her head in a short, sharp shake and blinked her wide eyes.

No…

Astarion was smitten… with her?

Well shit.

Jen could practically hear a D20 clacking and landing on that critical success as the realization came over her. He absolutely was smitten and that made her the biggest hurdle to this man finding Tav right now.

She felt herself bristling at the self-accusatory implication.

Astarion was a grown man. He could choose what he wanted for himself and if he was distracted and preoccupied, then that was on him.

Oh sure, of course you’d say that when you’re the cause of the damn distraction.

Well it was true. Anyway, maybe she was reading this all wrong.

You could just ask.

Ask what exactly? ‘Am I distracting you from this quest you’re on?’

I mean, yeah.

Jen licked her lips.

“Hey Astarion.”

He whipped around to face her immediately.

“What’s that, my dear?”

“I can’t help but feel like you’re distracted from your quest recently and that it’s my fault.”

His breath came out in a short, quiet scoff.

“Not at all. I’m quite focused on it, I assure you.”

Jen examined him suspiciously. Gods, if only she could tell if he was lying or not. She didn’t think he was but she was famously terrible at being able to tell, and he was a particularly talented deception artist.

“Ok, but why all this focus on the game all of the sudden?” She glanced down, coloring. “Why the documentaries and the woods walks with me?”

“I just want to learn more about you,” he said softly, watching her face as she took this in before speaking again. “I may be here a while longer than I thought, and you… well, I enjoy the time we spend together, my dear, rather more than I thought I would.”

“Oh,” she said, knowing that her burgeoning heart rate was saying the rest at the moment. That and the undeniable heat in her cheeks. He sat watching her with that gentle, radiant smile as she scrambled to figure out what to do with this little revelation.

“Well, I-” She trailed off and stared into the middle of the room. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Well, that’s a ringing endorsement,” he muttered with a deep sigh.

“I mean obviously I like you quite a bit, too, but you already knew that,” she hurried out.

Astarion smiled ruefully, looked away, folded his hands in his lap, and sighed. When he looked back, his eyes held a bright amusement tinged with something Jen could not readily identify. Whatever it was, it was making her uneasy.

“Shall we continue, darling? Go make a mess of the other Thorms?”

No. She could not drop the thought, could not focus on anything else for the moment. This man was smitten. He was absolutely smitten. He basically just admitted it.

With me? Why?

Maybe the hag sent him to her because she knew he’d get derailed by her. Maybe Jen was the monkey’s paw. Maybe Baba Yaga gave Astarion something he’d not tasted before, knowing he’d get all caught up in it somehow. There was no fucking way.

Her heart lurched.

“Darling?”

“You are distracted. I’m distracting you.”

Astarion paused, searching her face. He spoke cautiously, lips sunken into a soft frown.

“You’re distracting me, darling. Is that what you needed to hear?”

“I didn’t need to hear it. I needed you to admit it.” Jen paused, emotions simmering in her chest and stomach. She picked her next words carefully. “I don’t want to keep you from what you deserve.”

“You deserve it, too,” he retorted immediately, voice raising before he closed his eyes and took a very noticeable breath. Jen eyed him skeptically.

“What do you mean?”

“You deserve happiness. Companionship. Intimacy. All the things we have with each other, darling.” He looked away, giving her a break from the intensity of his gaze. “Whether you like it or not, my dear, you are part of my quest now.”

“I know I am! That’s why I’ve been trying to-”

“That’s not what I mean,” he said firmly, watching her, face falling into sadness before his gaze became adamantine. “I mean I am not leaving you alone to fall back into darkness. I won’t do it.”

Jen leaned back in her chair, trying to absorb his words.

“You deserve the same thing I had with Tav.”

Jen felt her face harden.

“I had that, remember? It’s gone now.”

“I remember, darling. Don’t forget, I had it too. And then lost it, just the same as you.”

He got out of his chair and crouched in front of her, gently uncrossing her arms and taking her hands in his.

“If I’m capable of finding it again, then so are you. Surely you can’t argue that? Look at these last months together. Don’t you want that?”

“More than anything in the fucking world, but you’re not mine!”

“I could be,” he said softly.

Jen shook her head at him in denial.

“What about Tav? You’re an elf. Aren’t you two soulmates or whatever you call them?”

Astarion sighed quietly, saying nothing, eyes flitting rapidly across unknowable thoughts before her. In absence of a response, she plowed on.

“You’re just going to forget that because I’m here and convenient?”

“Gods, darling. There is nothing convenient about this.” He waved a hand around the room, sweeping them to include her and himself. “This isn’t a relationship of convenience any more and you know it.”

She did.

She fucking did, and that was exactly what she was afraid of, what she’d always been terrified of with him. It was what had her running scared, barreling toward the end with her eyes glued shut. She could feel the tightness in her throat as she spoke.

“I need you to be reunited with Tav. The sooner the better.”

Astarion sighed, his head hanging lower. When he looked back at her his eyes had lost a bit of their lustre.

“And when the time is right, I’m certain I will be. But can’t I worry about you until then?”

“So… what? You want to just put your whole original quest on hold?”

A fire seemed to light in his eyes suddenly as he held her gaze.

“Isn’t that what you did?”

She stared at him blankly, confused. 

“You just said so. ‘Fuck the worm.’” Jen sat back in her chair, taking this in. “You are my quest now, my dear. Your own Tav started on her own, bumped into me on a rumble strewn ridge, and over the course of the next two months, her quest turned into what we just saw. What you just admitted. Can’t I do the same?”

Jen could feel her scalp tingling, knew he was absolutely right. But… her? The side quest turned main quest?

“I don’t know.”

“Then trust someone who does,” he said back, tightening his grip on her hands. “Please.”

“But… Tav.”

Astarion’s face split into a tired smile as he looked up to the ceiling with a dramatic sigh.

“Gods, you are stubborn.”

“Ok, but look. Even if my main objective changed,” she said, not willing to relent yet, “I still obviously kept working toward the parasite removal, too. So it’s not that a quest got forgotten, they just kind of twined together and the priorities got a bit rebalanced.”

“Exactly! That is it exactly!”

“Er…”

Astarion’s intense stare gave way to a bemused smile, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Then you’re alright if I rebalance my priorities a little?”

He was wearing his stupid gotcha look now, and she fucking hated that look.

“What does rebalancing your priorities mean,” she muttered, not yet convinced.

“I’ve obviously been trying to reconnect with Tav. We went out to do that just yesterday. How about we continue like that, but with less of your pestering in between?”

“My pestering,” she asked, voice raising at the perceived insult in his word choice.

“Time set aside for us is time set aside for us,” he replied sternly. “If we’re playing our game or enjoying the outdoors, I don’t want to hear about how I should be chasing Tav. Stop thinking about Tav.”

Jen opened her mouth to protest, but Astarion held a hand up, giving her the ‘I will brook no argument’ look he’d perfected on her as his Ascendant self, and she fell silent. He continued.

“And, in return, I promise I will continue to think of her. I’ll look for new places to find her on the weekends, ponder new ways we might get somewhere in all this.”

Astarion fixed Jen with an intent stare. She held his gaze, thinking through this, trying to find a fault in this plan. He sighed and inclined his head, doubling down on the look that clearly told her to stop trying to wiggle out of this.

“Is that fair,” he asked again.

“Yes,” she exhaled finally. “Fair enough.”

“Good,” he said, smiling. “Now, I believe we’ve got some more Thorms to deal with. Shall we?”

They held each other's gaze a moment longer, Astarion’s face daring her to keep arguing, hers a mask of displeased acquiescence.

He was right. She knew he was right, but she didn’t didn’t know what the hell to make of all this, so she nodded and slipped her hands out of his, turning back to the screen again as he returned to his seat.

She looked at his doppelganger, and found it far easier than looking at him for the moment.

Gods… She actually felt an awful lot like he’d just looked the first time Tav had hugged him. The shock. The tension. The confusion.

And then what did he do?

Relaxed. Leaned into it. Got excited.

But he wasn’t facing losing-

Oh, that was bullshit. They were literally turning into mind flayers and facing down the Dead Three. He was facing losing Tav every damn day they set a foot outside of camp, and yet he persisted. Allowed Tav in. Allowed her to change him.

Yeah, but he was Astarion for fuck’s sake. She was only her.

Then act like him. Let the man guide you, just like you let the idea of him do before he showed up for real.

Jen supposed she could try. The whole thing still seemed a bit crazy, all things considered. But again, so was that damn portal and the fact that he was sitting across the room from her at all. So…

Fuck it I guess.

Tomorrow her could worry about that after it had time to settle.

“Let’s hit the barkeep next. If it’s a mess you want, he’s the one we should tackle first.”

Notes:

I know there are so very many things our rogue could theoretically say and do, and he's getting there, really! The man's had less than a week to try to figure out how to pull this off, and he's also coming up against the details of a contract he can't actually see or read that's making things slightly harder than they should be.

I, as author, know there are so many ways to just shortcut things, but hang in there! They will get it! A few key things have to happen first! (I promise he's going to start getting more direct and that the appearance thing will come back up.)

Bonus chapter this week because I'm slightly ahead of myself with writing and I really like the next few, so I'd rather leave the weekend on this note than yesterday's. :)

Chapter 50: Gone Fishin'

Summary:

Jen's mind is whirling with far too many mysteries, but there's one she's finally determined to get to the bottom of.

50. Gone Fishin'

The first full Monday back saw Jen slogging through the workday distracted by everything that had happened from Las Vegas until now.

Astarion was out back again, sunbathing under a clear winter sky as the weather started to consider warming up. Meanwhile, Jen was inside procrastinating, picking one of a hundred arguments with herself instead of working on anything that sat in the queue.

How exactly did he intend to ‘not leave her in the darkness’ and still get back with Tav? Clearly he was quite convinced both of these were possible all at the same time. How long exactly was he planning to stay here now that he’d set a comfortable pace for his quest? And how in the fucking hell did he pay for all that shit in Las Vegas?

Not for the first time, and she doubted it would be for the last either, she had a strong suspicion that whatever he was up to would inevitably become her problem. When had it not? She glanced over her shoulder at his computer.

His locked computer.

She’d been watching for an opportunity to turn the tables on him ever since they’d been back. If he was going to snoop in her machine, well, she could do likewise, but he’d not left it unlocked a single time.

It was pretty impressive, actually. He was taking this whole digital security thing very seriously, more than a lot of the users she routinely dealt with. She probably should have started getting suspicious way sooner, like back when he’d requested to add his devices to her VPN plan.

Jeremey hadn’t ever felt the need for it. All the laws they kept passing in Texas had made her one hundred percent certain that as a woman, she’d never browse without one. And Astarion, once he’d grasped the basic concept of trying to stay as low key as possible online, had insisted he be added. She’d figured it was just innate to the vampire rogue, something either part of that combination would have thought wise.

Now, she wasn’t sure that there hadn’t been more to it.

This man had casually dropped upwards of ten grand on her in a single day of shopping. It had not escaped her notice. She may have been playing along at the time, but she had one hundred percent been adding up the number as they went that day. Then the airfare and the suite, all the meals, the spa day…

He was doing something illicit. She was certain it was not something she’d agree with, and while that pissed her off, her bigger worry was just what level of illegality he was toying with.

Jen stood up and stretched, thinking back to when he’d started first showing signs that he was up to something.

Right after Christmas. The Great Amazon Box Flood.

When he ran out to the mailbox immediately every single day like clockwork. She had figured that it was all about the beauty products, but she’d not actually been the first one to the mailbox ever since then. He would come in from his sunbathing, swing back out front to grab the mail, and hand it to her after plucking his parcels out.

And probably, she now realized, more than that. It had been convenient for her, so she’d not given it another thought until recently.

Jen glanced at her phone, noting that it was early afternoon. The mail should be due any time, if it hadn’t arrived already. She got up and walked into the living room, where she peered out through the screened porch to see Astarion lying in the hammock tapping around on his phone.

She slipped to the front of the house and opened the front door as softly as she could, stepping lightly out onto the cold concrete of the driveway down to the mailbox. Jen cracked it open and peered inside, heart leaping in triumph.

She removed the stack of letters and paused.

She kind of wanted the whole picture before Astarion knew just how onto him she was, so she took a few items of junk mail and slipped them back in for him to find on the off chance she was interrupted. She didn’t dare start leafing through the remaining stack until she was back inside, muffled by the brick of the house.

Once inside, Jen paused to glance out across the backyard again, noting that Astarion seemed to actually be talking to someone. She filed this away and situated herself back at her battlestation, flipping through envelopes.

More junk mail. Some fundraising drive from her alma mater. A reminder to donate unused household goods to the shelter she’d gotten Eva from. And then the first piece of mail that was definitely not hers.

It was addressed to ‘The Law Offices of Cliffgate and Waterdeep,’ and it had her address on it.

Was he trying to practice law?

Ok, stranger things had happened, she supposed. He had been a magistrate after all. Maybe he was running an illicit law firm somehow?

Jen grabbed the sword shaped letter opener out of the mug of crochet hooks, sharpies, and pens on her desk, slipping the envelope open and pulling out the contents.

A check. A check for five fucking grand and a note.

Jen unfolded the note and began reading.

“Dear Mr. Attenborough, I have enclosed a check to help contribute to your legal battle with your brother. I was so happy to hear that your lawyers think they have a solid case with that new evidence. Don’t forget to invite me to the castle when you win it back! With affection, Mrs. Miller.”

Jen stared at this, then read it again, trying to make sense of it all.

Legal battle? Brother? Fucking castle?

What in the absolute fuck was this nonsense?

And a check for five grand to top it off.

Jen looked up, frowning at her computer screen and went to Google, where she typed in ‘Law Offices of Cliffgate and Waterdeep.’

She scratched her neck as a very professional looking page loaded in, promising fantastic results for their clients, highlighting client testimonials further down the page. Jen clicked around, taking in the two ‘lawyer’s’ headshots and profiles. One Gale Waterdeep and one Karly Cliffgate. Stock photos, most likely, but image searching them didn’t provide immediate hits.

Gods, this was a solid looking website. Definitely enough to fool a gullible user who knew just enough to try to do basic verification.

It was actually a bit impressive if Astarion put this damn thing together.

Except for the fact that he is obviously scamming people for cash and has likely made felony level money and then some by now.

Yeah.

And had put her fucking address on this shit. Wonderful.

Jen looked through the rest of the letters. No more for the law offices, but a card for ‘Weston Wilcox’ and an envelope that weirdly contained a bunch of coupons and vouchers for cat supplies addressed to ‘u/Cavernous_Butthole.’

Jen fanned the three envelopes out on her desk and groaned into the hands she planted her face inside.

This is where he’d been getting his money. He was a fucking internet scammer.

She could feel the fight rising in herself.

Being a crook was obviously all he’d ever known, but there were so many ways this man could have made legitimate money online. So very fucking many.

Ways that weren’t going to have the damn feds pounding her door down in the middle of the afternoon and seizing all of her electronics one day.

Jen stood, taking the three letters with her and striding out the back door, through the porch, out the porch door, and straight over toward the elf in ‘his’ hammock.

Astarion looked up as she approached, did a double take as he saw her, and trailed off of whatever he had been saying into the phone.

“ASTARION! Are you catfishing people?”

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, but he recovered swiftly, smiling into the phone and crooning to the person on the other end.

“I’ll talk to you later, Lenore, darling.”

Conversation ended, he rose from his hammock like Venus from the waves of the sea, fixing Jen with a sultry glance.

“NO!” She said, holding a finger up, more than a little glad that he had a pair of pants on today. “No! You are not sexy-ing your way out of this one!”

His gaze sharpened as he realized that this game was up, too.

“Darling,” he pouted, “I have to make money somehow. Stealing wallets is so, so Faerûn.”

Jen just stared at him. She did not understand this man sometimes.

“How are you so damn sweet and still an absolute bastard?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed at her.

“Oh, come on. These old bats are going to die soon anyway. They don’t need all that money any more.”

“Oh. Dear. Gods. Astarion. No. No. You will not be catfishing old ladies in my house!”

“Well I need to make money somehow!”

“Get a legitimate job!”

He sneered at her.

“That is not my skill set, and anyway they’re boring.”

“Can’t you pick on someone other than little old ladies?”

“Oh, I already do. This is just one of many schemes, darling.”

Jen could feel her heart speeding up in panic.

“One of many? Like what?”

Jen listened, arms crossed, a horrified gape and an amused half smile at war with each other on her face as Astarion did a perfect impression of her work tone.

“Yes, darling, I’ll need your employee ID please. Thank you. And your password. Mmhm. Yes. Of course. It’s my pleasure. Y’all have a wonderful day now.”

He snapped out of the persona, fixing her with a cheeky grin.

Jen stared blankly into space, hand on her forehead. Alright, so he was also catfishing gullible users, adopting a perfect tech support persona that she’d inadvertently taught him. Her mind raced through the past month, connecting dots, dragging out old scraps of conversations, things she’d thought were a passing curiosity.

No, this man had been systematically accumulating as much knowledge as he could about every single online scam she’d ever mentioned or answered an offhanded question about.

Dear gods. Jen had created a monster.

Why is this at all surprising to you? He is a rogue! It’s Astarion for fuck’s sake.

It didn’t fucking matter that he was a rogue. She was not and this was all going to come raining back down on her fucking head. She fought a losing battle to keep the sneer off her face and the anger out of her tone as she looked back at him again.

“You better answer my fucking questions, so help me…”

“Then ask away,” he answered with an unhappy wave of his hand.

“What is this one,” she asked, tossing the Cliffgate and Waterdeep envelope at the deck.

“Ah, the old ‘Nigerian Prince’ scheme, or a variety of it.”

Jen bit her lip, nodding.

“This one?”

“Fundraising for my poor, sick cat’s veterinary care. Though these coupons people keep sending aren’t particularly useful.”

Jen flicked the corner of a card before slinging it at him.

“And this one, Weston Wilcox?”

“Oh yes, old Mrs. Wilcox. Wonderful woman. She sends the kids her regards. Hates my wife, though. We talk in secret and she sends her Pooh-Bear treats.”

“You’re going to get me arrested. I’m going to federal prison.”

“Oh, please, darling. I know how to run a scam and cover my tracks.”

“By using my actual address?”

“Eh,” he grimaced, “only for those first few. Most physical letters get routed to the PO box now, and-”

“Excuse me? PO Box?”

“-far more of it is all online, darling. No paper trail!”

“You have to have a bank account at the very least. They can track that.”

“Some of it. It turns out my law office is a fine front. I wouldn’t dare keep all my eggs in a single basket. Crypto, overseas accounts, different banks and custodians. Obviously different identities. I’ve even got a financial manager who is paid handsomely for their discretion.”

He was looking her over now, smirking in amusement now as she just gawped at him. Now that the panic was melting away, she could feel the indignation and anger blossoming somewhere between her stomach and chest.

“No,” she said, glaring.

“No?”

“You will not be doing this in my fucking house.”

“Technically, I’m in your-”

“You know what I fucking mean.”

“And what would you have me do, then? You were the one who told me to find work online to begin with.”

“Legitimate work.”

“This is legitimate work. It takes an effort, you know.”

“I mean legally legitimate you intentionally obtuse blowhard. Fuuuuck,” she growled, losing her temper at last.

Jen spun and strode back in the house, slamming the porch door behind her. She didn’t even want to look at him or think about him for the moment, but when she heard the door behind her and glanced back over her shoulder, the yard was empty.

“What would you have me do,” he pleaded, voice taking on an earnest whine. “This is all I know.”

“That may be a reason but it’s not an excuse.”

She turned and stared at him, lips set in a tight line, eye nearly twitching as she tried to dial down her anger.

“Everything needed that bloody ID, darling. No identification, no work. No prior identification, no ID card. I had to start somewhere, stateless as I was.”

“So you stole an identity.”

“Yes.”

“Ruined some random guy’s life.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I’ve done nothing wrong under that name! I simply opened a bank account and got an identity card. Anything malicious was under a different alias. I need something to be mostly legitimate and that damn piece of plastic was a hell of a headache to get, darling.”

Jen sighed.

“And now you have it. Stop scamming people.”

“Then I ask again,” he ground out slowly, “what would you have me do instead? I’m not working for a pittance, either. I could never afford that.”

She was never, ever going to convince this man to leave scamming behind when he could just print money with it. Unless he had something lucrative to replace it, this was a lost cause.

She wondered what kind of money successful content creators made. He could do that shit easily. Hell, they’d already been running under the guise that he was a professional impersonator. Why not take the show to the internet?

“You know people would pay for content you’re in.”

“I’m not theirs to buy,” he hissed.

Jen blanched, recoiling in momentary horror.

“Gods, Astarion, no, not like that.”

He eyed her distrustfully.

“I just meant harmless content. Nothing objectifying. Nothing sexual.”

She held his gaze, knew he was listening but wasn’t certain what she was talking about. Didn’t know where she was going with this.

So pull up all those stupid ‘Astarion ASMR’ videos and show him.

Oh yeah. Cus that wasn’t about to be hella uncomfortable.

You want him to stop scamming people or not?

She flicked her thumbnail against her finger as she made up her mind.

“Come here. I’ll show you what I mean.”

Astarion stepped over to her, stood at her shoulder, and peered down at the phone. Jen opened Youtube and went to her playlists, dying a little more inside with every passing second.

She couldn’t believe she was about to show him this, but something about a trolley with a bunch of impoverished grandmas on one set of tracks and her dignity on the other flashed into her mind. Jen winced.

“Here,” she said, flat voice turning sarcastic. “Let’s start with one of my favorites.”

This got the man’s attention. He looked at her sidelong before snorting as she tapped a video helpfully entitled ‘[ASMR] Astarion feeds on you <3’.

A very resigned Jen turned the volume up as the video started to play. It was nothing more than an audio scene made up of lines from the game and added sound effects, played over a still of his face, probably taken from bite night now that she was looking at it again. Astarion listened to this, grin growing ever larger.

He started howling with laughter as the imaginary him started gulping happily away, paused for a status check that was presumed by the creator to be an affirmative, and continued drinking.

“Yes, I know,” she groaned as he failed to curtail his laughter. “Ok? I don’t fucking know what is wrong with-”

“Nothing is wrong with you, my sweet,” he replied through tears.

She plastered him with a pissed, skeptical look, trying to resist the urge to punch him out of his infinite amusement. She was not in the mood for this.

“It just helped me sleep sometimes, imaging I was getting drained half to death. Like my body decided it was real enough to drift the hell into unconsciousness or something. I don’t fucking know. The point is, apparently a lot of other people like it, too. Look at all the views and likes.”

“Oh,” he purred suddenly, face mischievous. “We could start our own video channel like this. Record one of our meals together.”

Ok. That was not quite what she’d been aiming for, but she supposed it would be very authentic. Her overactive brain started fleshing out a comment section beneath such a video with dread and immediately discarded the notion of helping him with any kind of content.

The internet did not need to hear her getting fang banged by Astarion.

“No one wants to hear me. You reading literally anything would probably do well. That book we were listening to in Vegas? Start there or something. Just make a fucking Patreon and promote it. Seriously. People love you.”

“I suppose I don’t disagree with the notion, but…”

“Or hell, stream on Twitch ‘in character’ as yourself. Literally play anything. Do anything at all. Start a fucking skincare Youtube channel. There are so many things you could do because you being you will carry you.”

He sighed at her.

“I’ll consider it, if,” he added, “you also consider letting some of my schemes slide. I could focus more on the victimless crimes, darling, the ones that aren’t impoverishing dear, sweet grannies.”

“Like what?”

He thought for a moment, and Jen found the length of his pause worrisome.

“I do like these ransomware scams. I’ve only been starting to push into that more recently as they’re a bit trickier to pull off successfully. They fail an awful lot due to vigilant little worker bees like yourself making backups and training users and such.”

Jen just stared at him, suddenly tired. And disillusioned. This was the unsavory side of him that she was seeing at last, the side that would starve someone’s grandmother to an early grave for the face mask he’d been happily applying to the both of them.

Ok, but you’re not going to starve some random company. He’s not wrong there.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I’ll come with you. Just let me reapply my sunblock.”

“No. I’m going for a walk alone. I need to process all this,” she waved at him and his stack of letters. “Start fucking thinking really long and hard about a legal way to make money while I’m gone because I can’t promise I’m ok with any of the rest of this.”

Jen pulled on her coat, yanked her walking stick from its perch beside the front door, and left Astarion staring after her in trepidation.

Notes:

Trouble is brewing. Editing on the train and drawing a blank for a longer note, but this week will be eventful for these two.

Chapter 51: Mutual Acquaintance

Summary:

Jen takes her anger to the woods, hoping to find some relief. She finds the opposite.

51. Mutual Acquaintance

Jen strode along the lake trail until she found one of the deer paths. Her lungs ached with the pace she’d set in the cold winter air, an ache that she felt mirrored deeper in her chest as she shoved her hands willfully into the tangled yarn barf of her brain.

What the fuck was she supposed to do with him?

He had been completely correct about one thing yesterday: none of this was at all convenient. Not her feelings for him. Certainly not his feelings for her. Not his continued inability to find Tav. Not his wildly unethical and illegal source of income. 

What was she supposed to do with any of it?

This was supposed to be simple. Take him in. Get him oriented. Point him the right way and bid him a bemused farewell.

And then he’d decided to stick around. So she’d given in a little bit. Decided that she’d help him find Tav. Surely his ‘magical laws of the universe’ or whatever the hell would carry the day. Things had been going just fucking fine, until the man tried to seduce her.

That’s when this genius plan all began to fall apart.

She could feel the anger in the tightness of her grip on the walking stick, the force with which she jammed it into the soft earth and decaying leaves beneath her.

Why the fuck had she caved on New Year’s? Why couldn’t she have just held the damn line? 

Well I figured Astarion would keep things casual. A-whoops.

Yeah. He hadn’t. Not in the least. He’d been having the time of his life here feasting and fucking away while her whole damn life just got more and more complicated.

Do you regret it yet? Do you? Have you figured out what an astronomically terrible idea it was to get involved like that with him?

Gods, why couldn’t she just listen to herself sometimes. She fucking knew this would happen. She couldn’t resist fake him once he got ahold of her. She thought real him would be magically easier? EASIER?

Yeah well, too late now. Got to deal with what you’ve got.

Wonderful.

And what did she have now?

A distractible chaos causer upending her quiet little life. Her safe little life. Her uncomplicated little life.

Wasn’t this whole relationship supposed to be good for her? Wasn’t the idea to keep working her personal problems out while he focused on his quest for Tav like a dutiful star-crossed lover? This was supposed to be comfortable and casual.

It had been! At least, until recently.

How the hell was she supposed to know the man would fall for her? This wasn’t her damn fault. She could have handled just pining away for him. Gods knew she’d had enough practice with that in her early years before she figured out dating.

But him reciprocating? Catching fucking feelings?

Wildly absurd.

You knew. You knew it wouldn’t be simple. Stop lying to yourself.

Jen smacked the base of the stick into a trunk as she passed, watching a chip of bark sail off.

She had known. She had known how she would end up feeling, but she had bet on him being long gone before it ever got this far.

Well you bet wrong. And you’ve picked quite the upstanding citizen to fall in love with, haven’t you?

Yeah, don’t get her started on his fucking internet scams. Those were the final trigger that set the blood boiling straight out of her.

He could have completely ruined her damn life if he’d gotten caught. Her address, her home address, was attached to this shit. Fuck knew if he’d done anything on her internet before getting on that VPN plan.

If this man had enough cash lying around to have his own financial advisor, to have multiple accounts, to be able to sock it away offshore somehow…

Gods knew what kind of money he was sitting on. Gods knew if it was illegal or not. But unethical? Certainly that.

Jen snapped a stick off a branch and sent it flying out of the undergrowth and into the creek beside her.

All she could fucking picture in her mind when she saw her gorgeous string of pearls now was a string of medication someone’s grandmother was skipping to put them there.

Jen stopped and leaned on the stick, breathing heavily through gritted teeth, glaring at the empty air around her.

Astarion had fucking ruined everything.

All her inner peace. All her plans. All her sense. 

Inner peace might have been pushing it.

Oh shut up and let her have this.

What’s worse, everything that was hers was somehow becoming his or theirs.

She was never going to be able to go back to Eisenhower and camp there again without thinking of him, certainly not on New Year’s Eve. Never watch River Monsters without recalling showing it to him. Or go to an aquarium without picturing him holding that shark tooth in the tunnel. Not drive past a longhorn without thinking of him draining it dry.

Gods, even Earl Fucking Grey tea was ruined now because of him.

Every stupid little thing in her life was going to remind her of this monumental folly until the day she finally dropped fucking dead.

Jen cast a glance around her at the empty woods, opened her mouth, and yelled.

“FUUUUUUUUUCK!”

She stopped, staring at the log along the bank. The ‘vampire log’ as she had taken to calling the stupid thing given that it’s where she’d hidden from him that first night. Where she sat tossing pebbles into the creek as she realized she’d be feeding him later.

“FUCK!”

Yes, very angry. Fantastic. Now what are you going to do about any of it?

That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?

What could she do about any of it? She certainly couldn’t change her feelings. She couldn’t change his, either.

No… but you can influence them.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh yeah? What was she going to do? Become a raging bitch? Drive him out of the house?

She felt her heart twist into a knot at the very thought.

She could never.

He has to find Tav. We have got to fucking find her.

It was the only way through this mess. Find Tav. Make him fall in love with her somehow.

Ok, but he’s dead fucking set on you as a quest now, too, remember?

Gods, she didn’t know. This was all too fucking much, and there was so very little she could actually plan or control in it all. She fucking hated it.

But she wasn’t totally helpless. She did have some control. Jen sat on the log and tried to parse what flit through her head in an instant.

Yes. Their feelings aside for the moment, the one thing she could exert some control over was his internet scamming.

That, at least, she may be able to reign in. Or direct.

Jen did not like admitting it, but there was a side of her that was rather awed at his apparent success. A side of her that could see the fun in harnessing it and directing it against things she personally detested.

What if she turned him somewhat vigilante? Suggested causes or corporations for him to go after?

In a world spinning wildly out of control, it was a very appealing notion, especially if she wasn’t doing the dirty work and he had no qualms about taking that kind of thing on.

You are not seriously considering this.

And why not? Scumbags existed. Send him after the scumbags. Didn’t one of his own epilogue lines even hint at that? No one really cared about murdering if you murdered the right people? Surely scamming worked the same damn way.

Suppose she was ok with it. It did nothing to solve the more painful problem, the one about being wildly in love with him, getting more tangled up in him every passing day, leaving that many more pieces of them to be ripped apart in the end.

The incessantly conniving side of her saw a tentative way to put some space between them.

Astarion already knew she was mad about his scams. It would be a very convenient excuse. She could hear it already.

‘Why, darling?’

“Because I’m fucking pissed at you, thats why.”

She said the last bit out loud to the woods around her. Could she do that, though? Could she bear the look of hurt in his eyes if she shoved him away like that?

No.

She didn’t want to hurt him. She loved him. She wanted to be close to him.

But what the fuck was she supposed to do when they had always started with an expiration date stamped on them? There was not another way to survive the coming destruction, the desolation she’d feel as he turned those soft, adoring eyes on Tav for the first time while she stood there in the shadows and watched. While she tried to find her voice to tell the woman the truth.

Jen sat perched on the log, staring blankly into the riffles and runs upstream, walking stick leaning beside her.

She didn’t want to lose him, but she was going to. It would be better to ease out of it, to put an end to this fucking madness now. To shut this shit down and brace herself for the unbearable hurt waiting at the end of it all.

Her ears caught the sound of branches rustling and she glanced up behind her along the way she’d come. Nothing moved.

That fucker hadn’t followed her, had he?

She felt herself growing angry again.

If Astarion had trailed her out here, she was going to go absolutely ape shit on his ass. She refrained from turning to look at where the sound was coming from, listening intently instead and caught a branch snapping behind her.

Yeah, she thought so. There was definitely someone in the woods. Jen slid down into a crouch on the creek side of the log.

It probably wasn’t him, however, unless he was trying to be caught. He was far stealthier than this. Jen waited, listening, catching the unmistakable sounds of something moving closer.

She heard definite footsteps now, something large, slow-ish cadence. Hell, she half expected to hear a portal materialize again given where she was crouched, but all she saw as she turned was what looked to be an old lady with a cap and walking stick picking her way toward the creek.

The woman’s eyes fell directly on Jen’s hiding spot.

Jen had no idea how she knew, but she was certain that this was not a normal human being. It was something in the mannerisms, the disparity between how she carried herself and her appearance, perhaps.

And how piercing her gaze was.

“Hello, dearest. Care to come out for a chat?”

“Who would I have the pleasure of speaking to,” Jen replied suspiciously, not willing to step out from behind the relative safety of the log yet.

“Just a weary traveller come to check up on a mutual acquaintance.”

That could only be one person.

No, not person. Creature.

Jen decided in a flash that she'd play dumb.

“I don’t think I know you, so I have no idea who we’d know in common.”

The woman grinned.

“You most assuredly do. How about we both dispense with the pretenses and sit together for a spell?”

Jen watched as the woman removed her hat, flipped it inside out, and placed it open side up on the ground. The hat defied gravity, stood there like a bowl. The woman spun a knobbly finger around the rim of it and it began to grow and change texture until it was no longer a hat, but a large mortar. A tap of her walking stick on the edge and the stick became a pestle.

Jen blinked in numb shock, and in the timespan of that blink, the woman no longer resembled a tough, weathered old woman. Instead, Jen stared at what she was absolutely positive was a hag. Crooked and larger than she’d been expecting, the woman was dressed in thick woven cloth, a tattered shawl filled with cobwebs and holes draped across her, branches sticking out here or there.

Woman was a generous term. Astarion was not wrong in assessing the creature as largely fungus. Sallow flesh dotted with warts and tiny mushroom caps draped her frame, lichen in place of scabs, wispy fungus sprouting where Jen would have expected to find hair, dessicated grass and rotting stems for tresses.

Baba Yaga twirled the pestle and the mortar flipped itself over, becoming a seat.

“Pull up a stump, morsel,” she crooned, voice like branches scraping a window, and Jen watched, both fascinated and afraid, as a stump uprooted itself, walked a dozen feet, and replanted itself between the hag and the bank of the stream.

“Come now, I won’t bite. Not unless you’d like me to. You do seem to enjoy it.”

Her face split into a sharp-toothed grin and Jen watched in shuddering disgust as something segmented squirmed in and out of them.

“What do you want with me?”

“Oh, silly thing. I’ve already told you. If I can’t interest you in a bite, I’m just here to catch up on our mutual acquaintance.”

The hag pulled a steaming earthenware cup out of the shawl that clung to her body. She held it out toward Jen.

"Tea?"

Not a fucking chance.

“Ah, no thank you.”

“Suit yourself, morsel. But do have a seat. Humor an old granny, hmm?”

Jen was one hundred percent certain that this was a bad idea, but equally certain that she didn’t actually have a choice in the matter. If the hag wanted a conversation, the hag was going to be getting it either politely or else by rooting Jen to the spot. Literally.

Jen stepped out from behind the log and walked gingerly to the stump. She stared down at it for a moment.

“Don’t suppose you could grow a back on it, could you?”

Baba Yaga cackled.

“Sit, morsel. Tell me, how is our handsome leech’s quest going? Has he found her yet?”

Jen stared at the hag who sat sipping her brew, waiting patiently for the reply.

Might as well sit. No clue how long she’s going to keep me here. Or what she really wants.

Jen stepped around the stump and eased herself down.

“Well?”

“He hasn’t told me if he has.”

This set Baba Yaga cackling all over again, and Jen felt the anger that was already riding high in her chest begin to seep out once more.

This woman was toying with Astarion. This was a fucking game to her. She couldn’t stop her voice from dropping into a low, protective tone.

“What do you want with Astarion?”

Baba Yaga waved Jen off with a clawed hand.

“Nothing at all. I got what I want from your lover. The question is, has he gotten what he wants from you yet, morsel?”

“What do you mean?”

The hag grinned her sharp toothed grin again.

“Has he sucked you dry yet?”

Jen bristled.

“Excuse me?”

“Ooooooh, now morsel… you’re smarter than that. You know he’s a vampire. It’s just what they do. They leech everything they can off of the living, like the fungus on that willow tree.”

“Astarion is not taking anything from me that I’m not willing to give.”

“Yes,” Baba Yaga crooned, nodding her head, “and that’s the real power they possess. They make you want it. But what do you think he’ll do with you when he’s found his dearest again? Shall he keep you as a pet? Will you skip along happily behind them playing second fiddle to his one true love, living off of whatever scraps of affection he has left for you, all the while willingly wilting away?”

Jen could feel the lump in her throat at the hags words, a sentiment she had hissed to herself just moments before. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking back over their time together, how she’d slowly given in, given Astarion everything he’d wanted.

Had she ever told the man no? Or was she giving in again even tonight, justifying his cons and scams, losing herself to him more with every day?

No.

“Why did you send him to me?”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of tea, little morsel?”

“Answer the fucking question.”

“Ehehehehehe! Spunk. Moxie. You’ll need it, silly girl.” The witch’s beady eyes burned into her own. “I sent him to you to help his quest along, of course. And his success hinges on you. It will all come down to you.”

“Oh I know. You made it so he can’t tell her. That’s going to fall to me.”

“Yesss,” she hissed, showing sharp teeth again, far too many teeth, with creatures crawling through them. “Once again, the living does the work while the pretty corpse pulls her strings.”

“He is not pulling my strings!”

Isn’t he? Doesn’t he?

No. She knew him better than that. Knew a version of him better than that, anyway.

Yeah, THIS version.

The man could not help but pull strings sometimes, but he also cared. He would never hurt her.

Willingly.

Baba Yaga sipped loudly from her earthenware cup. Jen’s eyes flashed up to hers.

“If I thought I had any chance of ending you, I would.”

“Ooooh, I don’t recommend that. He has need of my magic yet.”

“Does he,” Jen sneered back.

“Why, how else will he return to his world when he’s used you up to get what he wants?”

Don’t listen to her. She is fucking baiting you.

But, again, there was at least some truth nestled in her venomous lies. That scroll of portal Astarion had in reserve was from the hag mother after all.

“Was there anything else you wanted, or am I free to go?”

“Would you like to make a deal?”

“No.”

“So quick to dismiss! What would you give to see him succeed?”

Anything.

“I’m not making a deal with you.”

“Humor these old bones then, little morsel. We’ll strike no deal, but answer the question.”

“Well it’s not ‘anything’ if that’s what you’re going for.”

More raucous laughter from the woman perched atop the mortar.

“How long until that changes, too, hmm? How long until you’ve no will but his? The leech is dangerous. You’d best take care; I’d hate for these trees and stones to miss you. No one else comes to visit so often.”

Baba Yaga tucked the earthenware cup away and fumbled in her shawl.

“Ah, and speaking of stones, take this one. Place it under the mushrooms in yon willow tree and call for me. I will come when you do. Just in case.”

Jen caught the stone the hag tossed across to her unthinkingly, recoiling at how cold it was to the touch. She desperately wanted to drop it, but couldn’t bring herself to do it, and sat holding it in the palm of her hand until the burning grew too painful.

Jen shoved it deep in her pocket. Maybe Astarion would know what it was. Maybe he could make use of it somehow.

Maybe he could summon her back and kill her.

Now that was a happy thought.

Baba Yaga stood, righting her mortar with a flick of the pestle, settling into it, almost seeming to dissolve from the hips down into a mess of fleshy, fungus filled goo.

“Run home to your leech, little morsel. Beg him to dine on you again. Offer up your soul. It will never be enough.”

A crack and a cackle nearly knocked Jen backwards off the stump. She sat, unmoving, staring at the place where the hag had just been sitting.

Jen didn’t even dare to think. She could feel the disgust and nausea roiling in her gut, left by the woman’s vile, poisonous words.

But for all her lies, she was right about one thing: Astarion was here to find Tav and leave her behind, and she was the one that was going to bring this about.

Had he ever been truly interested in her?

Or had he simply latched on to the first useful thing he came across: her. And, succeeding in ingratiating himself, only continued to bind her up further. Did he just need her completely under his spell to ensure his success? He knew her weaknesses well, now, could use them against her with ease.

No. This is ridiculous. This is what the hag wants. She wants you to doubt him.

Yeah, so you want to just trust the fucking rogue?

The one who snooped his way straight to her secrets. Who scammed his way into any money he’d made since being here.

She wasn’t supposed to feel like this when she thought of him.

This wasn’t right. She had to get home. Get away from here, away from all those questions the hag stirred to just shy of boiling over.

Jen scuttled off the stump and down the creek bank, snatched her walking stick up from the log, and tucked it up under her arm, jogging back down the deer trail and bursting breathless back onto the gravel of the lake trail.

She tried to hold all her darkening thoughts at bay, just wanting to get back home to Astarion, home to a friendly face and a comforting touch, before they broke again like a storm.

Home to the leech?

Astarion was not a leech. He was her friend. Her fucking lover.

For now.

Every-fucking-thing was temporary! How was this different? She fucking knew this when she let him in, for fuck’s sake.

Stop being sad about this. You knew this. You have no right to freak out because it’s temporary. It was always temporary. It will always be temporary.

The streetlights flooded the sidewalk with soft light, and Jen redoubled her efforts, ignoring her screaming lungs, pretending she didn’t feel her eyes growing watery.

Almost there. Almost home.

Jen flung the door open staggered back inside, trembling.

“Darling, there you are!"

Astarion froze and looked at her as she slammed the door behind her and stood gulping down air.

“What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

“Astarion?”

“What’s wrong, my sweet?”

“Um. I think I just met Baba Yaga.”

“WHAT?”

Notes:

I have been waiting to reintroduce this character for quite a while now. Yes, eventual happy ending is going to start doing some lifting. Yes, the thought of using Astarion's skill set for good has absolutely occured to Jen. I love how keyed in y'all are, for real! ❤️

Additionally, next chapter will be Astarion's POV once more so we will get a peek into how he's handling things.

On a lighter note, this chapter had a working title of "Baba Y'allga," which I both love and hate.

Chapter 52: Shadows of the Past

Summary:

Astarion's been trying desperately to get his little mud mephit to see the truth. His fey nemesis has just complicated things even further, leaving him struggling with his desire to hurry it all along against the reality of his darling's situation.

52. Shadows of the Past

Astarion sat Jen down on the sofa, handed her a cup of tea, and slid one of her favorite blankets across her shoulders.

“What did she say to you? She didn’t offer you any deals, did she?”

“She did.”

He felt the rage darkening his vision, clawing through his every vessel, hissing to be let out, begging to rip the hag limb from limb.

“Tell me you didn’t take it.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I won’t.”

Well at least his mud mephit was canny enough to avoid that. That was quite a relief. The mother of all hags was meddling, trying to thwart him. Playing some kind of damn game with him.

“Damn it all,” he hissed.

Jen looked rattled, truly rattled. She’d been unnerved before, but he’d not seen her like this.

“I think she’s scared you’re getting close.”

Astarion forced himself to relax and looked intently at her as she sat cradling the mug and staring into space.

“That was the first thing she wanted to know, if you’d found her yet. We must be close if she’s contacting me now.”

He tilted his head, staring at the clueless little idiot sitting before him on the couch trying desperately to puzzle it together. She was right. He was so very close. The hag knew it, too, chose now to strike.

Perhaps it was a good sign that Baba Yaga was on the back foot, but Jen was still babbling on.

“We had to have seen her or something, for her to show up. Or maybe we’re looking in the right places now. Maybe it was that we left the state. Maybe she didn’t want you to figure that out? Maybe we should try another city? Or was it casinos? Shows? Tav was a bard, maybe we should go up to the casinos in Oklahoma and look there next. She could work at one. Do shows. Are there any on your list up there, I wonder…”

Astarion watched as Jen’s brain bounced from idea to idea, turning over every rock, looking behind every branch, seeing everything except what was right in front of her. But why would she see it? The damn thing never looked in a mirror after all.

“We can think that through later,” he said, trying to stem the ongoing tide of her thoughts. She looked up at him, only half seeing the world around her.

“She tried to turn me against you.”

The sentence caused him to stop moving, filled his chest with icy dread. He looked at her thousand yard stare and spoke softly.

“What do you mean, darling?”

Jen opened her mouth to answer him, but then shook her head vigorously back and forth instead.

Shit.

Whatever the hag had said had shaken her enough that she was unwilling to tell him, and gods knew they needed to be in tune with each other now more than ever. He needed to know what that witch had said, and he wasn’t pleased to have to pry it out of her.

“Please, darling?”

Jen ran one thumbnail behind the other, unwilling to look up. But she spoke, voice trembling in uncertainty.

“She said you’re a leech. That you’re just here to take everything from me.”

The rage forced Astarion to his feet, and Jen cowered, slipping into a tiny whisper.

“She said it, not me.”

“Where is she? Where did you see her? I’m going to-”

“No! No,” Jen hissed urgently, grabbing his sleeve. “Stay. Please stay.”

Astarion swallowed, centered once more by the scared grip on his arm, the alarm in her tone.

“I’m not leaving, darling. It’s alright.”

“But you are,” she whispered back. Astarion frowned at her. “That’s what the scroll is for. So you can leave me.”

His heart kicked his chest painfully. Of course she would see it that way.

Astarion looked around the room, grabbed the ottoman nearby and spun it out in front of her, seating himself before her. She had reached a reasonable conclusion, of course, since she had no clue she was the object of his quest. And he’d yet to make her see it, hadn’t managed to find a way to tell her.

All he could do was try to reassure her, and he had a sinking feeling that, while she presumed Tav was still out there somewhere waiting for him, it was not going to get through to her no matter what he said.

“I am not leaving you, darling.”

“But that’s why you’re here. You have to. You have to find her and leave.”

“I don’t ‘have’ to do a damn thing,” he all but growled.

“What about Tav? You’re going to leave her here?”

“Hardly.”

Jen examined him, face angled away, eyeing him sideways. Her utter disbelief was written plain across her features.

Astarion had certainly been right about one thing: if he simply ‘stopped looking for Tav,’ the woman’s head was going to bloody explode. Her absolute befuddlement after their debate during his confession scene proved that to him yesterday, and here they were again not a day later.

And she’d gotten so close to the truth!

He thought she had it! She’d been the one to say that their quests had twined together and become the same, and he’d been able to respond exactly!

But, alas, she’d not caught, well, exactly what he had meant.

Astarion had to get her to see the truth, and soon. He couldn’t have that witch fucking this all up, not after so long, not when he was so close.

“I see no reason why finding Tav necessitates leaving you,” he stated, almost surprised that this sentiment was ‘allowed’ by the contract that had his words, written or spoken, bound so damn tightly. It had not been a fun game that he’d had to play these past days, fighting against the invisible hand choking off what he truly wanted to say.

“I see.”

Astarion scowled. No. No, she really did not.

“Did that witch put all this nonsense in your head?”

He watched as she considered her words carefully. Gods, that momentary hesitation was answer enough on its own.

“She made a pretty fine point about it.”

“Darling, she is doing this to hurt you. To hurt me. Don’t listen to her.”

“She wasn’t wrong about all of it, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a habit of getting your way. Even tonight before I walked into her, I was considering what you said about overlooking some of your scams.” She gave a sharp head shake, lip curling, and looked away.

“What happened out there,” he asked, voice low, struggling to keep the anger at the hag’s interference in check again. There was more to this story. He knew she’d been fiercely angry with him when she’d left, but he’d figure she would walk it off, come home a little less cranky, relent to some cuddles, and then they could discuss it like reasonable individuals. Gods knew even he and his dearest had had their spats sometimes.

“She ambushed me, insisted on catching up about you, taunted me, tried to make a deal, and left.”

Was Jen being intentionally short?

Yes. Yes, she was. She didn’t want him to know the full story.

Why?

He needed to know what Baba Yaga said to get her in such a state, to make her look out at him from behind the mask she wore that very first evening in the creek once more. Something had stuck, and he couldn’t very well disprove it if she wouldn’t open up about it.

“You don’t need to beat about the bush to save my feelings, my dear. I know quite well what that hag thinks of me.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, and he watched her mulling this over. For what felt like the thousandth time in a week, he entreated her silently to open her eyes and see. To put this all together, like he knew she could. She had the pieces she needed already!

She knew what his Tav looked like, and knew what her first Tav looked like. She knew that he was here seeking her, that he’d been dropped nearby. She knew that Tav had died thirty nine years ago, the very day she was born.

Astarion blinked.

Did she?

He had told her how many years ago Tav had passed, but had he ever opened up to her about Tav’s exact deathday? Or had they gotten so bound up together in their sultry role play that the reason for the trip never came up?

Sweet hells.

It hadn’t, he realized. He’d not told her why he’d been desperate to escape for the weekend. It just hadn’t seemed to come up, truly, once she’d agreed to go.

She had no idea that her birthday was the day Tav had died thirty nine years ago.

This was her missing piece. He could hand it to her, and she'd figure it out, and all this anguish would be over!

Astarion squeezed her hands, drawing her attention back out of herself, holding her eyes as he spoke softly.

“Darling, I… want to talk about Las Vegas.”

“What is it?”

He could hear the concern and fear in her rapid response and cringed.

“It’s nothing bad. I just hadn’t shared why it was so emotional and thought that you might want to hear.” Jen said nothing, waiting, locking her feelings behind a blank stare. “That weekend, well… it was the anniversary of the day Tav died.”

Astarion watched her take this in silently before asking a single, surprised, growling question.

“What?”

“Tav’s deathday was your-” he could feel his vocal cords tighten, refusing the rest of the sentence. “Tav’s deathday was that Saturday.”

“So I was your distraction?”

“What? No! Well, yes, but-”

“Wonderful. So was that whole weekend even something you actually wanted to do? Or did you just pick the most decadent thing you could think of after you invaded my privacy to make sure I couldn’t resist?”

Bloody hells. This was not at all what he needed her to take away from this conversation. How in the nine hells was this a fight now?

“I did go looking for something enticing, but I wanted to try it as much as you did. And we had a wonderful time! You are not a distraction, my sweet.”

Doubt. She looked at him with a tired doubt that sent an arrow straight through him. Astarion swallowed, reaching for the right words, ones that would calm her down.

“It didn’t occur to me to tell you why I wanted to go because, well… I didn’t think it would be important to you.”

She snorted at him, and the breath was laced with sarcasm.

“You just didn’t want me to say no.”

“No! That wasn’t it at all! I didn’t realize you’d want to know. I wasn’t trying to manipulate you, I swear. Please, darling, you must believe me.”

“This is what she said.”

“What?”

“That you’re doing all this to ensnare me so you’ve got someone to do your dirty work.”

Astarion couldn’t help but shiver in horror at the idea. That was what that hag had said? Is that what she had been after with his mud mephit? Convincing her that this was the real reason he’d stayed with her?

“No. No, darling, no.”

Her chin lifted, stubborn and agitated. If he wasn't so worried he'd have sat to admire her neckline all over again.

“I mean, why the fuck else would someone like you be with someone like me?”

“Because you’re incredible.”

“Incredibly stupid maybe.”

Astarion stared in surprise at the woman whose head sunk down into her hands in front of him. 

Hells, the hag hadn’t bespelled her. Baba Yaga had simply ferreted out her doubts, reopening wounds Jen had been working so hard to heal. Astarion flashed back to the first time he’d tried to coax her to have a bit of fun with those toys, when she’d come home, been absolutely dumbstruck at the thought, and promptly fell apart before his very eyes.

His little mud mephit simply couldn’t believe that he’d want to be with her, couldn’t see herself as he did. She couldn’t two months ago, and she still couldn’t, even now. Astarion simply stared, had no idea what he could say to her. His darling had spent so long convincing him that he was worth the world to her, and now, here she was, certain she was nothing more than a passing fancy at best.

How? How could she not see how perfect they were for each other?

Gods, he just wanted to hold her close and scatter those dreadful thoughts to the wind. To whisper in her ear and replace them all with nothing but comfort and love. To banish the crushing sadness blossoming in his chest at the thought of his darling feeling so lost and lonely.

Astarion reached out and she shied away from his hand, sniffling into her own now.

He drew back quickly, brow knit together. Gods below, could she not even trust his touch right now?

That bloody hag was going to pay for this. He was going out to the woods, he could track her down. He would make her pay for doing this and-

Astarion caught the sound of Jen’s heart hammering harder now, saw her drag her legs up against her chest, staring up at him with scared, haunted eyes.

Gods, her frightened little eyes.

This frustration would get him nowhere. It was only making it worse.

Astarion sank back down to the ottoman, breathing deeply, focusing on her scent to calm himself.

“Darling, it’s alright,” he tried.

She shook her head at him. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile.

“I’m alright. I’m just worried about you. I wish I knew what to do.”

Jen didn’t answer, only hugged her knees and stared at the wall. Astarion cast back inside himself for that time long past, when he felt trapped, drowning in isolation for want of a friendly touch, but utterly unable to bear it.

Nothing had helped. Not a single thing. He recalled Tav sitting helplessly next to him in his tent, staring out into the shadows, unable to break through, or... perhaps realizing that being hugged half to death wasn’t what he had needed just then.

Astarion sighed mournfully. The only thing that had helped had been time. And space. Just when he most wanted to hurry her scampering thoughts up, to wrap his mud mephit in a neverending embrace… 

“I understand if you need some space, darling,” he whispered.

Bleary eyes peered out at him from the cage of her fingers.

“You do?”

“I do.”

“I don’t want space,” she wailed suddenly. “I don’t know what I want! I just want to stop feeling like this!”

“I understand. Truly, I do.”

Astarion sat in silence with Jen, listening to her heart thudding in her delicate chest, her breaths stuttering now and again, wishing he could detect her thoughts, wishing he knew exactly how to fix it for her, but knowing she was the only one who could work this out for herself. The stubborn little thing would get there. He just had to prop her up until then.

He sat and he waited, almost able to hear the campfire crackle, almost able to smell the water lilies and the woodsmoke of nearly a century ago rising between them again.

“Maybe just a little space,” she said quietly.

Astarion held her gaze and nodded, keeping his pang of sadness buried deep, well away from his face.

“I’m going to let you take the lead then, darling. You tell me what you want. Until then, not one ounce more of my attention than you desire.”

“But you’ll still hold me?”

“Absolutely.”

There was that tiny little smile again. Finally.

“And bite me?”

This woman…

“I thought you wanted space, darling.”

“Yeah, but I like the biting. It’s like your heartbeat’s holding me, too. I only need a little space I think.”

Astarion looked at her curiously.

“Is that what it feels like to you?”

She thought about this for a moment and then nodded.

“Mostly. It’s different depending on… other things. But that’s always the same, even if the rest gets…”

He frowned and held her gaze with a stern look. She dropped her eyes, picked a cuticle and he knew.

“Darling, if you truly need space, I will manage without for a time.”

He watched as Jen’s toes squirmed against the cushion. Yes, he’d thought so, damnable little thing.

“What good am I to you without that at least?”

“You’ve given me your home. Your time. Your companionship, your mind, your body, and all those brilliant little schemes.” If only he could give her a reassuring squeeze, damn it all. “You have given me plenty.”

He waited, watching her face to ensure she took him seriously.

“And, darling, I am begging you, be selfish right now. Please. Take the time and space you need. I’ll be right here regardless.”

Take it and come back to him feeling like herself, her true self. They lapsed into silence before he spoke quietly to her once again.

“Shall I leave you with your thoughts for a time?”

Her head shot up, eyes wide.

“Don’t go.”

“Alright. Shall I put the fish on? Or your audiobook?”

“No…” Astarion waited for her to finish her thought. “Will you read to me?”

“Read to you?”

“Yeah. I have that story, it’s in the game room on the bookshelf. Will you read it to me?”

He breathed out in amusement. Tav had done the very same for him, though it had been her idea then, too.

“That’s what you’d like?”

“Please?”

Astarion let another breath out as he watched her shift, a little life returning to her face and limbs finally.

“Hey Astarion?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry I’m like this. You deserve better. Sorry you’re stuck with me instead.”

“Nonsense. There’s only one person I’d rather be stuck with,” that being the happy, healthy version of herself, “and I am quite sure she’ll understand when all this is done. Now, bring me this book, I suppose.”

Jen set the empty mug down and shuffled off with the blanket draped across her shoulders. She reemerged holding a well-worn paperback and handed it wordlessly to him, herding the three cats into the bedroom before them.

He had to get through to her somehow. She must not see the pieces clearly yet. Gods, and somehow he’d just managed to pick a fight instead of giving her what he thought would certainly be the key.

But he knew now that he had missed something terribly important in all of his haste.

Jen simply couldn’t fathom it being her, and until she could, perhaps no amount of evidence would outweigh that simple fact. Rather like, as Tav had pointed out long ago, he’d still acted like a slave even when he was free simply because he couldn’t fathom anything else quite yet.

Well, then if he could just make his darling feel safe and secure, surely she’d start to see the answer for the glaringly obvious truth that it had become to him.

Alright, but how could he make her feel secure when in her mind the whole fabric of their relationship was only as strong as tissue paper, waiting to tear just as soon as the breeze blew this ‘other woman’ into his life? Hells, while she tried to force this other woman into their life.

Astarion didn’t have an answer, just tired sadness, and simmering anger toward the hag who’d just made this so much more complicated. When he caught up with her again… 

Astarion sat up with Jen in bed, reading from where they’d left off listening. She had snuggled up against his side finally, draping her arm across him and Ike the Eevee, who was tucked under her arm on his lap at the moment. Eva sat watch on the headboard above, as she always seemed to when Jen was in a state but Astarion was on comfort duty.

Her willingness to touch him again had finally reassured him that she’d be ok for the evening at least, that there was still hope, and he continued reading softly to her until her breaths slowly lengthened as she slipped into slumber at last.

Astarion shut the book and looked down at her, sitting with the unhappy pain in his chest. His poor darling went to sleep dreading an eventuality that would never be, feeling like she was nothing more than a tool to him. The need to disprove it, to reach out and soothe her pooled in his fingertips, but he knew what she needed more than anything right now.

She needed room to breathe, flighty little thing, and see them for everything that they were, and damn it all if stepping back wasn’t the only way. Maybe if he could just be a calm presence, waiting beside her, she could start to see them clearly.

Astarion whispered quietly to her in Elvish as she slept, words to comfort them both tonight, as he lay beside her aching with the unattainable desire to do more.

“I love you, my sweet. I’ll always be here for you. And I promise, we will get through this.”

However many nights that took.

Notes:

They'll be ok, I promise! I promise, promise! I'm literally already writing another mushy happy smut scene amongst others. Just sit tight through these next few chapters, because healing is never linear, and this story is no exception. There are setbacks and bumps and struggles, and I like my characters showing it. It's part of the reason I adore our rogue so much to begin with!

Additionally, I have answers already written for so so many things I've seen in the comments, so if you want them, you're gonna have to ride this out. 😉

Also, if you know what book this chapter title is a callback to, you get a cookie!

Chapter 53: Confrontations

Summary:

Jen is not in a good way and realizes that whatever hell she's currently put herself in is not where she wants to be.

53. Confrontations

It had been weeks since Jen had woken up feeling so tired and heartsick. She didn’t even get out of bed, just fired Teams up on her phone to message her boss that she was going to be out today and rolled back over.

She recalled last night, the frustration and fear boiling out at last, threatening to drown both herself and Astarion after she’d returned home.

She had almost hoped she could blame it on that magical stone in her pocket, but knew it wasn’t so. Even after she’d tucked that thing well away from herself behind the books in the game room, she’d still felt the weight of doubt, the force of hearing her own arguments parroted back from the lips of that vile hag.

What was it about hearing someone else speak her very worst fears aloud that suddenly made them all so real?

“Good morning,” a quiet voice said from the door.

Astarion looked like shit.

Your fault. You did this to him. He’d be better off without you.

“Did you need anything, darling,” he asked softly.

Jen nodded at him, choked up at the caution and exhaustion evident in his voice.

“A hug,” she whispered, feeling her shoulders relax as he strode into the room and bent down to embrace her. Neither of them said anything, just leaned into each other silently.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, cringing away as her nose protested, “but you look awful and smell just as bad.”

Astarion’s breath washed across the back of her neck as he exhaled in a quiet laugh and released her.

“I had a restless night,” he admitted, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Not finding food?”

“Oh it’s not that. I was just… busy. And didn’t want to push your new boundaries.”

Jen blinked in surprise. Hadn’t she told him biting was still ok?

“I’m not going to starve you just because I’m a disaster.”

“You needed some space,” he replied.

“But I said you could feed, I think.”

“You may have said it, my dear, but your face said otherwise last night.”

And now you have a starving vampire who you’re dragging down with you. Happy yet?

No. Not at all. This wasn’t how she wanted things to be. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Last night was stupid.

Gods, she was stupid.

“Ok, well, I propose breakfast for both of us and then some gaming? If you’d like?”

“Counter proposal,” he said, face careful. “Breakfast for you, and then gaming.”

“Astarion, did you eat at all last night?”

“A little, but I spent most of the time combing the woods for signs of that bloody witch.” He frowned over at her. “I hesitate to ask this, my dear, but would you perhaps consider staying out of them for a time? At least by yourself?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s probably best.”

Astarion nodded grimly.

“Er,” he muttered, nose wrinkling, “May I amend my earlier suggestion? I believe I need to freshen up before anything else.”

Jen chuckled.

“Yeah. You probably should. See you in the game room in a bit then?”

“Quite.”

---

It seemed like her way of facing him down today was going to be pretending that nothing had happened.

Good job. That’s healthy!

Jen clicked on Astarion in game while she waited on the real him to freshen up. She’d only run through the post-confession romance lines once, just to show him, as opposed to the fifty gazillion times she usually did. It just seemed a bit weird to constantly be clicking the fake him looking to be told she was beautiful when she could simply snuggle up to the real deal.

Correction. Had been able to snuggle up to him.

She still could if she’d get over her fucking hangups. Jen examined the mischievous, pleased face on the screen, sighing and wishing she had a list of fucking options to select from in such a conversation. She clicked the dialogue again.

‘Can we talk about the two of us?’

“Can we? I suppose we can.”

That made it sound so fucking simple. She felt some kind of way that even now it was impossible to keep the grin off her face and her toes from curling a little at his tone and expression.

‘Could I kiss you?’

“Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised.”

Never would. She’d never get enough. And he truly did look just like that when she was surreptitiously begging affection off of him. He’d tease then relent, melting into a simpering, striking, self-satisfied stare.

Jen watched Tav and Astarion slide into each other like this was what they were made for, both of them grinning as the rogue pressed eager lips down onto the woman who welcomed his advance, leaning back as the man leaned forward, thirsty for that kiss.

Jen wondered if she and Astation had ever looked like that kissing, if someone in Las Vegas had stolen a glimpse of them trying to be discreet and smiled at the secret moment they unknowingly witnessed.

“I do rather like that, you know.”

So did she.

Then why are you pushing him away?

Because she was scared. And tired. And confused. So fucking confused. She never could process emotions quickly and this week had laid them on hard and heavy, dumping skein after tangled skein into the yarn barf she was already making no headway with.

Yeah, mental agility was something she could do, but she did not want to see an actual character sheet for herself. She had a hunch that her strength and wisdom fought each other furiously at the bottom of the list to be the dump stats.

Emotions were fucking hard. Just shy of four decades had taught her that much about herself anyway. And then wrap him up in it, Astarion, who she esteemed so fucking highly that the very notion of him viewing her with nearly the same adoration simply tripped her brain breaker over and over again.

That fucking hag knew.

Jen looked back at the screen, eyeing the first option after coming out of the kiss.

‘What are we to you?’

Please. Please just enlighten her.

“I don’t know. But isn’t it nice not to know? You’re not a victim. Not a target. Not just one night it’s better to forget. But then whatever in the world could you be.”  

Jen started laughing at the baffled elf and found that she couldn’t stop. Jen knew that the man clearly loved Tav but just as obviously had no fucking clue what to do with that.

You and me both, buddy.

“What’s got you howling in here,” Astarion asked, holding a container of what must have been hair product, seeing as how he had his other hand buried in his locks as he looked at her.

“Nothing. Just dialogue.”

“You’re not continuing on without me, are you?”

“No, just talking to folks in camp. Relax. You know I wouldn’t.”

“Alright,” he ceded, eyeing her suspiciously, smile blossoming as he looked at her screen. He’d caught sight of who exactly she was talking to.

Fucking idiot.

“Almost done,” she asked him flatly, steering Tav away from the stool at his tent.

“Just about.”

Astarion spun and walked back out of the room, and she caught him mumbling something that sounded an awful lot like ‘bloody impatient woman.’ She exhaled at his retreating rear and looked back at the screen.

So he had had no idea what they were, but knew how he felt about Tav. Jen was right in that same spot, it seemed. 

And it’s a fucking shitty one.

It was. She had held solid since New Year’s for weeks, but a month out and she was finally flagging. The newness had worn off.

More like your fucking hormones aren’t as all over the place.

Mmph. Yeah. Same result though. Her mind, claws sharpened, had come out swinging, and the fear had crept back in through the gashes she tore in herself. She hadn’t even noticed until it bled out of her into last night’s debacle.

Jen rubbed her eyes unhappily. She must have been in really rough shape if Astarion had forgone even a gentle sip while she slumbered.

Gods, that man deserved a fucking medal. She was glad she couldn’t even look at him for most of the night; it kept her from having to remember what was undoubtedly an incredibly pained face as he floundered about when she had simultaneously wanted both all the love he could offer and absolutely none of it.

She clicked Astarion again, a smile creeping back out at his line.

“Hello beautiful.”

The chair behind her squeaked as Astarion situated himself at the PC.

“Alright, so we’ve dealt with the Thorms, except Ketheric. I suppose we’ll be assaulting Moonrise today?”

“Mhm. Finishing the Gauntlet of Shar, then the assault on Moonrise.”

“And I suppose, too, that our girl Shadowheart will be the star for the moment?”

Jen grinned.

“Eh, kind of. I’m just going to invis you on this first trial though. Walk right to the end to solve it.”

Astarion snorted.

“Cheating, darling?”

“There’s no fucking rulebook other than get there undetected.”

Jen had Tav hit him with Greater Invisibility and waited behind as the rogue sauntered off into the maze.

“My favorite part of this trick of hers was always sneaking back up after I’d caused whatever chaos we were after and goosing her hello.”

Jen sighed. More fucking Tav talk. How exactly did she think she was distracting him again? Tav was all he’d talk about while they played. 

“Bet she loved that,” Jen muttered.

“Oh no. She hated it. Swore I’d have to sneak the old fashioned way next time each and every time. But she’d cave and I’d do it again.”

“Fun story. Next one’s combat. Only kill your mirror-”

“Yes, I know how this works,” he sneered back.

They said nothing else to each other as they took out the four doppelgangers. Jen didn’t say anything about the ring that dropped afterward, but of course the rogue had an unerring eye for treasure, saw it, and claimed it as his.

“Third one we’ll just send Gale across with Misty Step.”

“Oh, making him do some work, I see. Earn your keep, wizard,” he commanded the screen. Jen smiled in spite of herself, teleporting exactly twice, grabbing the gem, and warping back.

“Kill a bunch of undead guardians, get our emo princess her new digs, and dive into the Shadowfell.”

Jen listened in patient annoyance as Shadowheart chanted her devotion on the long hop down to Dame Aylin. She guided the cleric through the conversation correctly, now, having managed to finally get it right after a few failed attempts on the first run.

She sat back, heard Astarion’s chair shift behind her as he did the same.

The scene of the Nightsong, more specifically the music, never failed to send a wave of goosebumps across her.

Jen scowled as her phone buzzed on the desk beside the keyboard. She silenced it without looking, watching and guiding the rest of the scene to its completion. She had just teleported them over to Moonrise when the phone started buzzing again.

Jen looked down at it finally. Her colleague. And if they called twice, it was actually important.

“Ah fuck me,” she said. “Give me a bit. I need to take this call.”

Jen stepped away, not comfortable having work conversations in the room with Astarion for the moment after hearing how well he’d internalized that persona. She’d almost walked out the door before she narrowed her eyes, saved the game, shut it down, and locked her computer.

Jen paced the screened porch and walked her apologetic colleague through something she’d set up last week, noticing with passing interest that Astarion had gotten up and retreated into the bedroom for a time.

“Yeah, so sorry. Didn’t have time to document the whole thing. And my head is shit today. You’ve got it covered?”

Jen nodded as they repeated it all back.

“Just reach out if you need anything more. Sorry for the trouble. Thanks for covering it.”

Jen wandered back to the game room with a sigh.

“All settled,” asked Astarion.

“Mmhm.”

“What was that about?”

“Work.”

“Obviously.”

Jen held the curious rogue’s gaze. He was not getting a single detail out of her regarding her work, certainly not today. He scowled and turned away first.

“Shall we continue then?”

Jen started the game back up, loading the last file with a puzzled frown.

Were they at camp?

She could have sworn that she left off standing in front of the bridge into Moonrise. Maybe not. Her memory tended to get wonky when she wasn’t all there and fuck knew she was not all there today.

She started them across the bridge, piloting Karlach to loot all the armor and weapons off the dead on the way in. Once her inventory was full up, Jen furrowed her brow, staring at something that had entirely slipped her notice at first, mostly because she was so fucking used to seeing it that it hadn’t registered.

Her character portrait had been changed. She selected Tav and spun the mouse wheel, scrolling in for a better look.

That son of a fucking…

Jen whirled toward Astarion, who sat staring at her with a happy grin. The anger overflowed immediately at his cheeky grin.

“Did you do this?”

“Yes,” he purred, quite pleased with himself. “I much prefer your very first Tav.”

Jen looked at Tav. The same freaking Tav she’d made a zillion times and grit her teeth. How the hell had he managed this? She’d locked her fucking computer, distinctly recalled striding in to do it before leaving him alone with it.

A long breath hissed out between her clenched teeth. He’d said he was going to give her space. Breaking into her shit was not giving her space. It was the opposite, actually.

“Were you in my computer again?”

The lines in his face deepened as his expression fell, smile slipping into a puzzled frown.

“Er, no!”

Jen glared at him, fighting to keep her anger contained, speaking slowly and deliberately.

“Then how did you do this?”

“With your handheld device,” he said, blinking back at her, complete bafflement evident now.

“Explain,” she growled, watching him lean away from her.

“I had the device sync. You’d said you turned it off, so I turned it back on. And then while you were on your work call I brought her to the mirror and changed her to look like your Tav. The one I found in that file on the plane.”

“Why?”

His mouth opened and closed. In absences of an immediate response from him, she persisted, voice growing louder.

“Why does it fucking matter, Astarion? Is a bunch of fucking pixels’ appearance so fucking important that you’re going to invade my damn privacy all over again? After yesterday? Really?”

He gaped at her, opened and closed his mouth a couple more times, still speechless, it seemed.

“I just like that Tav,” he finally managed to say. “I didn’t mean any harm, my sweet.”

“Don’t call me that. I cannot deal with this shit today.”

“I- I’m sorry. It- just…” He was struggling for words, but she waited this time as his eyes grew almost frantic. He finally found his words again.

“Just look at her!”

Jen rolled her eyes and sighed, turning to the screen. She was in no mood to stare at his long lost love and hear him fawn over her for the umpteenth time.

“Yep. That’s Tav. Congrats. You got your fucking way again because you simply could not leave it alone.”

The man sputtered behind her, alternating between ‘I’, ‘she’, ‘look’, and ‘Tav’ in a broken, confused cadence before finally landing on a proper sentence.

“I’m sorry. I clearly didn’t think this through.”

The smallness of his voice finally made a dent in her anger, and she closed her eyes, taking a few breaths before opening them. Jen stared at the woman on the screen. Was it any wonder he changed her appearance? Hell, he’d disapproved of this one from the minute he saw it when they started their playthrough.

Jen noticed something else then, with a curious tilt of her head. The woman on the screen looked similar to all those pictures she’d seen as she scoured the internet for his long lost love.

She sat straighter. Was that why he did this?

He was missing her even more right now and just wanted the reminder? Jen understood the impulse, she guessed, with all the ‘Tav this, Tav that,’ but fuck, she was not wild about him just doing it unilaterally. Though he hadn’t actually broken into her shit again, technically. He was more than free to use the Steam Deck after she’d shown it to him.

Jen looked over the woman once more and scrolled back out.

Ok. So she maaaay have been overreacting. The woods yesterday just fucked her headspace nine ways to Sunday and she supposed she hadn’t bounced back as far as she had hoped she would after a night’s rest.

Jen risked a glance over her shoulder. Astarion sat hunched in his chair, very still again, not running his avatar in circles or scouring through bags as he usually did while waiting.

Stop doing this to him because you’re an emotional wreck. He deserves better.

“It’s alright,” Jen breathed. “I’m sorry. I just lost it a little thinking you were in my stuff again and after yesterday…”

Astarion said nothing, didn’t even bother to turn and look at her as he spoke.

“Will you answer something for me?”

I swear to all the gods in the universe if this mother fucker asks me one more thing about Tav… 

“What’s that?”

“Why did you make her-”

The anger came roaring back.

“Because that’s what my fucking Tav just looks like, ok? That’s it. She looks like that. It’s a fucking coincidence that you happen to prefer it, too. When you fucking find her, I can make her sit in a fucking chair next to the screen and perfect it for you so you never have to look at anyone else ever again. Happy?”

Jen dragged herself back down to earth, tried to stuff all the frustration and fear and annoyance back into its holding cell again. Astarion was staring at her nonplussed, face changing emotions too rapidly for her to identify any of them reliably.

Gods, she was not made for this.

“Sorry,” she grumbled. “I’ll leave her like this if it’s important to you.”

Jen paused, anger bleeding away into cold sadness as a confused face peered at her from across the room.

Stop doing this to him. Stop.

“I think the fucking witch really got under my skin.”

“She did,” he replied, sending a jolt of annoyance through her.

No. No sarcasm. Use your nice words.

Jen stared at him mutely as he examined the air between them. Well, since she didn’t seem to have the ability to say anything particularly nice at the moment, she supposed it was better to just not say anything more about it.

“Let’s go kill Ketheric for real and get the fuck out of these shadows.”

“Gladly.” He paused and cringed. “You, er, don’t want to talk about how you’re feeling this morning, do you?”

Jen glared daggers at him.

“No, I didn’t think so,” he mumbled after a deep sigh. Astarion pinned a smile on his face, but Jen could see the tiredness and resignation he tried to hide behind it. “Well, whenever you’re ready then, my dear, if I can still call you that.”

“That one’s fine.”

It wasn’t the one he used when they were being particularly intimate; it was one he would use on just about anyone if the situation called for it.

“Let me talk to Jaheira please so she doesn’t get herself killed. I don’t want to do this fight twenty times like I did the first damn time.”

Fights. Nothing but fights. Fighting Ketheric. Fighting Astarion. Fighting herself.

At least she knew she’d win against Ketheric. She had no idea what to do with herself yet. And Astarion, infuriating as he was, did not deserve what she was throwing at him today. At all.

“Tell you what,” she said, “Nothing we do in here matters much as long as we kill it all, so you take the lead today. I’m having trouble focusing anyway.”

Astarion didn’t respond. Jen turned to see him nodding slightly at the screen and sighed.

Good job. You got what you fucking wanted. He hates you now.

“Darling, I think perhaps I’d rather not play much today.”

“Huh?”

“This isn’t going well. I’ve upset you. Let’s do something else.”

Jen blinked at him.

Doesn’t sound like he hates you.

“Um, like what?”

“You have other games, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s play one of those.”

“I guess?”

Jen closed Baldur’s Gate down and scrolled through her list of games.

“You want to come look at this list?”

“Oh, that’s alright. Just pick something relaxing that you enjoy.”

“How about this one? We’re stuck in the ocean and we have to build a raft and not get eaten by the shark and figure out what’s happened and where all the people are.”

“Er, is that relaxing,” he asked, eyeing her sideways.

Jen snorted and grinned a little self-deprecating grin.

“It is for me. I like building and exploring. The shark’s not that bad.”

Astarion tilted his head and smiled back.

“Lead on then.”

Jen felt her insecurity, her worry and tension, slipping away as Astarion explored a new game with her. She laughed for the first time that day listening to him berate Bruce, the shark hell bent on monching the raft they’d been diligently building, poking him with a sharpened stick to chase him off over and over.

Playing a game that wasn’t turn based for combat had tripped him up at first, but it was a pretty forgiving system, so he’d managed. He’d also started to get really into the puzzles as they went along to the point that Jen would stand in front of one and just shake her head at him with a smile until he figured it out.

When evening rolled around, they had a pretty nice two story raft chugging along with its first engine. They’d not gotten as far as Jen had anticipated in the story, mostly because the man was fussing over the interior design, insisting on decorating it appropriately as they built it up, scowling at her need to put plants all over the place.

They had ignored everything outside of the little game world. It helped, but Jen could still feel the rift that had grown between them yesterday as the night encroached, could still feel its relentless gravity pulling her back into quiet sadness.

“I’m going out hunting, my dear,” Astarion sighed, glancing out the window as they sighted the next story island. “I am positively starving.”

She nodded at him. He was giving her the space she requested, so why did it hurt like this? She walked into the kitchen to find something she could stomach for dinner, passing him on his way out.

They exchanged small smiles, each knowing that they both still felt the weight of yesterday. She watched the rogue slip out the front door, turn to look down the cul-de-sac, and close it gently behind him.

He’ll be doing that one last time someday.

Today had done exactly one thing: it proved that pulling away had been a mistake. It hadn’t lessened the pain. It had done the opposite. It was so much worse having him here and keeping herself back.

Jen finished her noodle bowl, rummaged through WIPs restlessly, and resigned to turning in early. She tucked herself in bed with Ike, sniffling into the stuffed animal as she lay alone in her room for the first time in weeks.

She still didn’t know what the hell to do about her and Astarion, but she knew that today was not the answer.

Notes:

Things will start looking up again shortly I promise! Jen needed this kick in the butt, honestly, so she'll be moving the right direction emotionally from here on (even if she's still a lil clueless and does stupid things with the best intentions). THEY WILL HAVE THEIR HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!

I think, all told, we'll be looking at roughly 70 chapters for the final count. There are still a few scenes/events/break points that are a little fluid but I can confidently say it'll be 70-ish. It's been weird working the end of this whole thing, and I've been doing a dumb number of chapters simultaneously. I like it, though, because it gives the big ones a chance to marinate and get extra touch-up passes. I think I want it all done before early October, mostly because I'm going on vacay then (cross country solo road/camping trip to meet up with family at the end for a beach week) and I desperately want to read my whole story straight through in the woods and on the beach, haha!

Again, thank you all so much for reading and buckle up for the final month!

Chapter 54: At the Gates

Summary:

A turbulent work week behind them, Jen and Astarion continue their BG3 file by heading into Act Three.

54. At the Gates

Had she truly made it through a whole work week since the run in with Baba Yaga?

Monday was the catfish fight, the flight to the woods, the meeting, and the meltdown. Tuesday was the aching cold front after the storm. Wednesday had been quiet, the air starting to clear and warm a little. The hag’s words still echoed in her skull, but her anger had turned toward Baba Yaga finally, not inward at herself or sideways toward Astarion.

Yesterday night had seen Jen desperate for Astarion’s touch, and her longing to be close overpowered her embarrassment and uncertainty at last. She had all but begged him to feed from her for the first time in days and he had, at last, relented, too.

It had helped. Tremendously. It had left her sighing and snuggling into his protective embrace for a sleep that finally felt like it had done something to refresh her.

Him, too, by the look of it. He had a little more brightness in his eyes again, and Jen’s heart, bruised as it was, was happy to see it there. She’d been busy shoring up what she’d left half finished at work after her abrupt half day Monday and a full day off Tuesday, so they’d only just managed to complete act two yesterday, taking down Ketheric and meeting the other two chosen for the first time.

“The gate is close… as is Cazador. Cazador and his Rite of Profane Ascension. An imperious soiree, attended by devils and spawn alike…”

Jen sighed quietly as the theatricality burst forth from her pale companion on the screen.

“A grand ceremony to honour one exalted vampiric master, and elevate him to an unfathomable station. To place him in a position of such esteem the world will yearn to kneel and offer their necks.”

She knew what this meant. He had been backsliding in the game the closer they got, though he’d been completely unable to voice it, perhaps not even aware that as they drew ever closer to the culmination of their quest, he fell further into fear and doubt.

No matter how much she’d kept trying to get him to see the truth, the elf had been completely focused on everything about his situation except what would actually free him.

It didn’t matter. It hadn’t kept her from trying again and again to snap him out of it.

‘It sounds as if you envy him…’

“Of course I envy him. Why wouldn’t I? The problem with what Cazador has done is that he did it to me. If the time comes, and I can stay one move ahead of him, I’ll take his place before his blood can hit the floor.”

This was not him, not the him that had finally started to shine through in act two. He was stuck in survival mode and she’d thought that perhaps if she could reach him where he was, acknowledge some of what he was saying, she could get him to listen.

‘I don’t know. Raphael said the Ascension was lethally diabolical.’

She cringed at his all too forced laughter.

“Doesn’t it sound delightful? For the lucky little vampire on the winning side? After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, I think I deserve something better.”

He was not at all wrong there, but fuck, she’d been so worried for him, so concerned that he was going to choose to do something astronomically stupid.

‘Freedom is not the same as power.’

“All I’m saying is let’s be clever about it. If an opportunity arises for me to become a more magnificent bastard than I already am, why turn it down? Let’s find out more about the ritual before we waltz into Cazador’s front door.”

That was a solid line of thinking, at least.

“If we track down my old comrades - the other spawn - we may discover more… and be finely positioned for yours truly to ascend.”

She’d resigned herself at this point to failing to get him snapped back into sense yet again and reverted back to doing what she could to voice her concern for the only thing that mattered to her: his well being.

‘As long as you’re sure you’ll be alright seeing them again, love.’

“You’re too adorable. I’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll bring back memories of so many pathetic years, but I’m much stronger now.”

Jen couldn’t help but sigh because even to her emotionally obtuse self, it was obvious he wasn’t stopping to feel this out. The man was trying to just toughen up and power through it.

“If we don’t find my brethren, they will find us. Likely with bared fangs. We should get to them first, then we can make their pretty tongues talk. Unless Cazador has changed their orders, they’ll be in the dens of this town, seeking prey.”

“Gods, I was a handful at the gates, wasn’t I?”

Jen chuckled softly.

“Yeah. You turned that dial straight to eleven.”

“Did what?”

“It means you were a lot. Extra.”

“Extra? Extra what?”

“Extra everything,” she muttered.

Jen went down to the bedroll after checking in with the others around camp, including the three new additions, Jaheira, Isobel, and Aylin. The mental assault from the Netherbrain woke them, and they fought their way down to their mysterious dream visitor, who they now learned was, as Astarion put it, one of the very creatures that kidnapped them in the first place.

“How surprised were you guys when you learned all this?”

“Oh, it varied. We all knew something unusual was going on with that artefact, and while it being a mind flayer wasn’t what we expected, it did make sense.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t know who he was until later?”

“No. Not until we met his dearest friend Ansur.”

“His vengeful, murdered friend Ansur,” she retorted.

“The dragon did try to kill him. Now, are we done here? I want to get to the city.”

“Yeah, unless you want to hear your thoughts about the fancy tadpole.”

Astarion grimaced.

“You know, I think I can do without, thank you. I doubt they’re any different for this fake me.”

Jen paused, grin slipping off her lips, remembering the lines he’d be missing. He’d felt the other end of a vampire’s bite, too, after all, and the version of him in the game did not like it.

“Can I ask something personal?”

“You can ask.”

She nodded, understanding he could choose not to answer.

“The bit we’re skipping says… I mean, when you turned, how badly did it…”

Boy she was eloquent tonight. What the fuck was she trying to ask?

“Your bite hurts, but it’s only for a moment, and then that’s washed away by the rest of it.”

Astarion examined her, holding her gaze, face stony. Jen looked down, feeling rather suddenly like this might have been too much.

“Maybe I shouldn’t-”

“It’s a natural curiosity,” he responded, cutting her off. “It felt invasive and demeaning, some man I didn’t know sinking into me like that.”

Jen swallowed as Astarion’s hand went to his bite scar, his voice taking on a sharp, bitter edge.

“And Cazador was not gentle. Nothing he did was gentle. That included this. Imagine what it would feel like if it were my bite, darling, but from the next random stranger you meet. And then, imagine that it doesn’t stop as you lose yourself to it, until the very end, when all you can feel is a deathly cold rush of something else, warping your very mind and body, splitting you apart. Stitching you back together. Hooking invisible chains into your flesh.”

Jen sat silent, rapt with horror, as he finished pantomiming attaching the hooks.

“Yes,” he concluded. “In a word, it hurt.”

She bit her lip and nodded at him as he stopped speaking, meeting her gaze again. He held his face very carefully blank, or tried to. Jen could see the revulsion swimming behind his eyes.

“You didn’t have to tell me.”

“I keep no secrets from you, my dear,” he said, refusing to break eye contact.

She snorted. She couldn’t help it.

“Anymore. Supposedly.”

“Alright, fair enough,” he responded, faint grin reappearing on his lips as his body language loosened again. “Let’s click this bedroll and get down into the city.”

Jen spun back and did as he requested, stomach still twisted from the unexpectedly brutal reality he’d just painted for her.

Well that’s what you get for asking instead of sitting through the cut scene, bird brain.

It was nice when it was him, but if it was, say, that selfish ex of hers…

Jen shook her head, pushing it all away to focus on the game, something she’d gotten pretty solid at these past few days.

Rivington lay before them as they stood at the top of the path, road winding and branching below them. Her first time through, she’d been concerned about doing things ‘out of order’ and had cleared out everything she could find this side of Wyrm’s Rock.

As was standard practice in a new area, she started by clicking on Astarion to get his take.

“Wyrm’s Crossing. The welcome mat of Baldur’s Gate. This is it. I’m almost home.”

Home such as it was for him.

“What a shitty home,” Jen muttered, drawn right back to thoughts of Cazador.

“Oh not at all! Baldur’s Gate is wonderful!”

She suppressed a chuckle and smiled. That’s not what she meant. She’d meant that he had a shitty home life to get back to at that particular point in time, but he continued arguing for his city, evidently very fond of it for everything he’d endured there.

“I could do without the stench down by the docks on a warm day, but there is so much life, so much intrigue. All these wonderful places to explore - and you’d enjoy that, darling. There is so very much hidden in the depths of that city to go nosing about in.”

Maybe, but it’s not like I’m going to visit.

Although, the way he’d said it sure made it sound like he intended to take her there. She pondered this for a moment, wondered what the hell he had cooking up behind those gorgeous eyes. He was still prattling on.

“Treasures to find. Things to sample. Oh, and if you’re waiting because his name is on the screen, go on ahead and click it.”

Jen looked at the line he was referencing and did as he suggested.

‘Are you worried about Cazador finding out you’re back?’

“Eh. I won’t lie, the thought hardly fills me with glee. Even with my new-found advantages, he’s still an incredibly powerful vampire. But he’s arrogant, too. If he does hear I’m back, he’ll try to take me and expose himself in the process. Then I’ll be able to strike.”

‘And how will you ‘strike’ exactly? He won’t be alone.’

“Neither will I, darling. At least I hope you’ll come along for the show? But regardless, the plan is simple - find him, stop him from gaining almighty power, and then really enjoy killing him.”

That should have been the plan full stop, but of course it wasn’t. Not to him. Not ever since he’d cottoned on to the insidious little notion of supplanting his master instead.

“And if I can seize that almighty power for myself? Well, all the better.”

Again. Again and again, it was all he would think about. She’d felt damn near powerless to shake him out of it. She tried to keep an open mind and see it his way, but the more they heard about the ritual, the more it sounded like an awfully bad idea.

“You can stop rifling through every container,” she told him, watching as he rummaged through every backpack and sack at the tent on the hill.

“Old habits, my dear.”

“Well if you do that the whole way through Rivington, we’ll never get to the city proper. Just saying.”

She wandered down the hill, grinning as Grub and Yenna approached. Yenna, she gave a handful of coins to, nothing more than she could earn by playing the violin at the base of the hill, before she clicked the orange feline.

“I'm just a Cat! P-please! Talk to Yenna.”

“I swear Grub is my spirit animal.”

“What’s that?”

“Creature you relate to on a spiritual level.”

‘I’m not going to hurt you, kitty.’

“I d-don’t like talking.”

‘Do you know what happened to Yenna’s mother?’

“N-nothing good, I don’t think. She was so very sick. M-maybe she made like a Cat and went off to… to spend her last life.”

‘May I pet you?’

“P-please don’t.”

‘Is Yenna mistreating you?’

“Y-Yenna is my best friend! She’s kind! H-help her, not me.”

Jen smiled, noting that the only time that cat’s tail went up and he had a little movement in him was when talking about Yenna.

“You make a rule of talking to every cat you meet, don’t you?”

“Well, duh.”

Astarion giggled.

“Even here, where you have no idea what they’re saying.”

She shot him a look, and he grinned back at her.

“It’s endearing, darling, that’s all. Gods, you’d spend a whole tenday simply talking to strays in the city if you actually went.”

And there it was again, his assumption that she would somehow be joining him. Was the fucking hag right? Did he intend to drag her off with him and Tav when he left?

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, and this week, it was best not to dwell.

Jen walked straight up to the house with the squatters next, exactly as she’d done the first time she got to town. Astarion sat giggling behind her as she excoriated the man, noted that the man was highly concerned about his basement, intimidated him into letting the family stay, and then deadpan told the hired muscle that they’d just killed an avatar of Myrkul, at which point they figured perhaps this was all just best forgotten.

“We’re going into his basement, yes, darling?”

“Oh yeah. We have a long career of breaking and entering that’s about to begin.”

“Excellent!”

She swore she could hear him rubbing his hands together in glee.

Five more lengths of rope -- and one more pearl -- in her pack later, they’d cleared the house out of its valuables, scandalous letters, and explosives, scooted down to the warehouse to expose the donations, and gotten a bead on Shadowheart’s handlers.

Jen pondered the best move next, trying to recall how she’d done all this initially. She knew she’d gotten the pass by blackmailing Arfur in Sharess’s Caress, so they could see that through, but if she didn’t hit all the little one stops now, she’d forget to later.

The party went back up the hill to talk to the mysterious ox, who was now a mysterious apple that Tav pocketed, then slipped down to check in with the Tieflings. Mattis had a few more trinkets that she purchased and doled out. The few remaining tieflings on the far side of the barn were simply glad to be off the road.

She made sure to get Astarion introduced to the ‘Washing my Pits’ song before swinging wide to head into the windmill.

Astarion had insisted on going first, intrigued by the screams and the ‘scent of blood’ as he put it. Jen had to remind him that he couldn’t actually smell the game. He scoffed at this, leaving her rolling her eyes and shaking her head as he waxed eloquent about the scent of all the fresh blood in the windmill, how much he’d wanted to get into that building and figure out what smelled and sounded so delicious.

It was certainly a strange way to see the world, through a pall of predatory hunger.

Yes, and you’ve invited him right on in.

She scraped a nail on the edge of her spacebar, waiting while he two shot the fresh mind flayer before pocketing anything of use from its corpse.

The Gur, she decided.

It was time to go talk to the Gur, see what he thought about all of that. The monter hunters and Astarion had clearly ended on good terms at some point, since they’d helped him on his hag hunting holiday, and Jen suspected that it did indeed start with the group burning the remains of their recently deceased.

Or those they recovered, anyway. Burning them was probably wise given the freshly risen hunters she knew were now under Cazador’s control. Aside from schelpping around a bunch of stuff they didn’t need any longer, too, of course.

“This way,” she said. She caught his breath of interest as the autosave triggered. He had learned quite quickly what that had a tendency to mean. The NPCs argued around the fire below, and Jen stayed still, letting the ambient text play out so that Astarion could listen to it.

“‘We shed tears today so we may shed blood tomorrow,’” Astarion repeated. “We got on quite well, once they stopped trying to kill me, at least.”

“They do seem a tad bloodthirsty.”

“They are. And resourceful. A canny woman, Ulma was. Her successor, too. I wish I could say we changed their view on all of my kind, but, alas.”

Jen grunted. There was probably a reason for that, and she could probably make a very educated guess as to why given how her playthrough went. Jen clicked on Ulma, sat watching the funeral words in silence until the leader turned to address Astarion.

“So, the impossible spawn walks among us in the blazing sun. We have been looking for you.”

The wariness rekindled in her immediately. She was pretty sure she’d been preparing for a fight the first time she encountered them.

‘What do you want with Astarion?’

“The last time your friend came to our camp, he stole our children. Our future. When we sent Gandrel after you, we wanted to interrogate you. To discover how to save our children and then destroy you.”

There was that pit in her stomach again, the bile churning at the thought of Astarion’s destruction.

“But things have changed. You have changed. Is it true you left your master? That you broke the spell that binds you to him?”

“WelI, I mean… kind of? It’s a long story, honestly.”

‘What business is it of yours?’

“Protective, aren’t we,” he purred.

“They wanted to kill you.”

The pair fell quiet, listening to Ulma speak.

“For those your friend stole from us, it is a matter of life and death. We have tried to save our children once already, attacking Cazador Szarr’s palace at first light. Even then, it was too well defended. But if his own spawn approached?”

“They wanted to use you as bait, probably hoping you died in the process.”

“Shush, darling, I'm trying to listen.”

“Someone he thought he could control? He would throw his doors open and welcome you in. And once inside, you could do what we could not. You could save the children you damned.”

“You don’t know Cazador like I do - he’s merciless. You want me to march into the lion’s den and save your children, but I promise you, they’re already dead.”

‘How can you be sure, Astarion?’

Jen watched his expression on screen shift from sorrow to anger, a far more palatable feeling, as personal experience had recently reminded her.

“I spent two hundred years bringing him victims. Each and every one was whisked away to be fed on that night.”

“But you never saw him feed yourself. He could keep prisoners for days before killing them. If our children are truly gone, then we ask for blood. I know you can understand that, spawn.”

Ulma spat the word ‘spawn’ just like Astarion spat the rat bastard Cazador’s name. She was never truly certain that Astarion personally owed them anything, despite it being the line she chose. Surely the Gur of all people knew about compulsion. 

‘You owe them revenge, Astarion. If nothing else, you owe them that.’

“I suppose… Yes. Yes, revenge I can do.”

“Thank you, from me and all my people. If you can do this, we will be in your debt. You have lived a life of violence and sin-”

“You’d think these idiots would know what compulsion was.”

“Hush, darling,” he giggled.

“You have stolen lives, broken families, and caused immeasurable grief. Doing this will not right those wrongs.”

“If you’re trying to encourage me, you’re failing abysmally.”

“But it will be a start. You may still be redeemed. Please go. Time is short, but we will see you again when it is done.” 

“I hate that they blame you,” she muttered as the camera zoomed back out.

“Blame is… complicated,” he sighed unhappily behind her. Jen turned, a pang in her chest as she saw the tiredness and sorrow they’d just escaped watching on the screen written on his features now. The morbid curiosity wanted to ask, but her stomach did not. Definitely not after her earlier question was met with such brutal honesty.

“It’s history now, anyway,” she said.

“My history, darling,” he said softly. “Part of me.”

The way he was watching her again made it clear that the invitation was there. Jen swallowed, thinking about what she wanted to ask before speaking up this time.

“Do you blame yourself?”

His gaze slipped into the unseen between them.

“Sometimes, yes. Other times, no. What choice did I truly have? Even if he didn’t outright compel our every single action, he… didn’t need to.”

A look of revulsion flitted across his face. Astarion stood and brushed his hands down his thighs.

“I’m going hunting, my dear. Night is falling and this has been a lot. I need to… let off some steam.”

No face mask. No shows. No cuddling, caressing, kissing, whispering, whimpering, panting, and dissolving away the angst together.

Not unless she started it, and she was still fucking paralyzed by doubt and indecision.

They exchanged their small smile, which had replaced everything else that it could have been this whole week.

“Happy hunting. Please stop by tonight, even if I’m asleep. You’ve got permission.”

Astarion nodded, red eyes softening. He looked away with a sigh and slipped down the hall, cooing at Wabbajack, shooing the cat back from the door, before Jen heard it close.

There is no sense in doing what you’re doing.

“I fucking know,” she growled at herself.

You’re scared, but you are ruining your only chance with him.

Jen sighed, grabbing a fresh pint out of the freezer and a spoon out of the drawer. He was drowning his feelings in blood; she was drowning them in ice cream. Delicious for both of them, but not helpful very long past the end of the snack.

Then let him know what you actually want!

But that was the problem. She wanted something incredibly selfish: him. Him to be hers.

He said he could be.

Yes, but-

He said to be selfish.

Yes, but-

He said to stop thinking about Tav. To let him do that.

Fine. Fine.

She’d try it a little bit more tomorrow. Maybe.

Notes:

No joke, I write at least four chapters ahead of what is posted. I say this because for like, the past half a dozen chapters one of y'all will say something in the comments and I have to sit on my damn hands to keep from replying "Oooooo, just wait two more chapters" or something similar. Seriously. Driving me bonkers in the best way possible!

That out of the way (it's been simmering since Monday, haha), you can see we're heading in the right direction again, Jen, cough cough. Our rogue is still working on more ways he can beat this woman over the head with the obvious fact that she's Tav given how oblivious she still is as well. Because Jen, darling, please... you've just got to connect. the. dots. *Shouts into the void and shakes tf out of the woman*

Chapter 55: A Breath of Fresh Air

Summary:

Jen and Astarion venture out to enjoy the sunshine and put their heads together about what could have summoned his nemesis earlier this week.

55. A Breath of Fresh Air

Saturday morning found Jen dying to get outside again. The weather, which was in its February phase, meaning it was either gorgeous or an icepocalypse, could not have been more enticing for a late winter Saturday afternoon.

She’d held out thus far, not wanting to bother Astarion, who she knew was not particularly fond of a thorough woods romp, and not at all willing to set foot back by the stream without him currently.

“Hey Astarion?”

“Hm?”

“Are you busy with anything?”

His eyes flitted up to her face, examining her as he took a break from browsing his phone in the armchair where he lounged with Wabbajack. She hated how they’d still not gotten past assuming the worst of each other this week.

“Why’s that?”

“Can we go out and walk? I’ve not been out since… well, you know.”

“Oh,” he said, sitting a little straighter. “I’d be happy to. The sunshine is calling my name today.”

Jen relaxed as he glanced out through the porch and then back to her.

“Do you perhaps want to try a new trail, my dear? I’ve been looking around the area online, and I believe there are some others further down the way that you may enjoy. We’ll have to drive to get there,” he added with a sharp little sigh that made her grin, “but it may be worthwhile to avoid your usual haunts. Just in case.”

“You’ve been looking at trails?”

“Yes.” He rolled his eyes and waved his hand about, making the cat leap away with a mrr of protest. “Gods know my little mud mephit will dry up and crumble without the muck, so, yes. I have been.”

Not for the first time, she found herself silently elated that this endeariating asshole happened to be particularly fond of her. It may have been baffling, but, shit, it was nice.

“Did you have one in mind?”

“Well, this one here,” he said, opening his phone again, “says it has fossils, and sometimes a waterfall, so I figured perhaps that would do.”

“Where’s that,” she asked, interest piqued by the mention of somewhere that sounded so wonderful, especially since she’d not found it herself.

“Old Quarry Park. Just here. I’ll send the directions to your phone.”

Jen opened the link he sent, scanned it, and looked up at him hopefully.

“We can go on a walk there?”

“That is what I just said, isn’t it?”

“Now?”

“Well, sunblock pending, I suppose so.”

Jen bustled around, pulling on ripped jeans she didn't mind getting dirty, just in case she saw any little footpaths or game trails that she just had to follow. She attached her foraging pouch to her belt, which was never used for foraging, just rocks and fossils and bones. The utility knife got clipped in its pocket, the boots tied on her feet, and the walking stick taken to hand. With that, Jen was ready to go.

Astarion eyed her with a sigh as he finished applying sunblock to his exposed skin.

“All this for a simple walk?”

“Yup.” Never knew when she was going to need to go off trail, especially in a new place. “You want a walking stick, too? I have an extra. It’s fancier than mine. Actually made to be a walking stick, not just a cool stick I found.”

“No, I am quite alright.”

She did see him slip a dagger beneath his leather blazer, however. It seemed he was his own brand of prepared for the day and she did not blame him one bit after the past week.

“Off we go, then,” he sighed, motioning her out the door before him, locking it behind.

---

It had been about a fifteen minute drive to the park he’d found, and Jen was immediately enchanted by it. A large, open area -- crazy to find in the cookie cutter McMansion subdivisions that dominated the landscape -- boasted an intentionally cultivated native prairie. Of course, being the last month or so of winter, nothing much was growing, but she made note to come back when spring finally got underway.

“You’d love this when the weather warms,” she said to Astarion. “Texas is not my preferred habitat, but it does boast some amazing wildflowers. They’re painted everywhere and they all seem to burst forth together at the earliest opportunity.”

She sighed quietly, hearing the next sentence before she continued speaking.

“If you’re still around, maybe we’ll have to drive down to hill country this spring.”

“Hill country?”

“South of us. Beautiful rolling hills. There’s a state park down there that I love, too. I think technically it’s just north of proper hill country, but it’s got fossilized footprints.”

“Ah, well, that would explain your enthusiasm.” Astarion hesitated. “Speaking of things you are unusually enthusiastic about, my dear, I don’t intend to spend time today or tomorrow out looking for Tav.”

Jen opened her mouth to protest, and Astarion raised his voice to continue talking.

“If you’ll let me finish, please, darling?”

She snapped her mouth shut.

“Thank you. I don’t intend to spend time going out and looking this weekend,” he repeated. “But only because I can’t help but feel like we’re missing something obvious. If you’re amenable, perhaps we could discuss this in light of your unwelcome visitor instead?”

“Did you bring me out here for an argument?”

“You asked to go walking, darling.”

Well that stopped her dead. Astarion watched her face with a look she was very used to this week: kind of amused, but mostly annoyed.

“I’m being the endeariating one, aren’t I?”

Astarion laughed.

“Aren’t you though?”

They continued past the prairie space and over to the treeline and the paved path of the trail running along it, but the solid wall of limestone Jen saw peeking through the branches, and the obvious desire path sneaking off through the trees, was far more intriguing.

She glanced around, saw no one else, and ducked between the limbs, scooting down a worn little trail toward the rocks and sound of flowing water.

Astarion sighed dramatically behind her and followed.

Sure enough, a small dirt trail followed along the bank of the stream, but Jen only had eyes for the rock wall across the way, entranced by how it had sheared away from itself, the striking contrast the stratification in the layers created. Her eyes traced up the twenty feet to the top. Just a little more than the bottom half was solid limestone. The rest was gravel and then roots and soil and trees and sky.

“This is so cool,” she breathed. She tore her gaze off the cliff and stopped scanning for somewhere to scale it for a moment to look at the creek bed. Solid rock lined the bottom. It wasn’t gravel and mud as she was used to over by her, but the top of a limestone shelf holding the flowing water above it. She cast her eyes upstream to an outcropping of fallen stone slabs, then beyond it to a small trickle off the cliff that she suspected passed as the waterfall around these parts. It was nothing to the mountains of home, but it was far closer than places usually came around here.

“Let’s go that way.”

Astarion sighed again and trailed after her.

“Yes, this is all wonderful,” he murmured looking around, “but did you have any thoughts about our quest, darling?”

Oh. Right.

Jen slowed her pace, stopped tearing off ahead with the irrepressible desire to go get a closer look at everything new.

“Did you,” she asked after a pause in which she realized she had no clue where to start.

“Talk through it all with me, my dear, everything we know. Our best breakthroughs come from these conversations, I think.”

Astarion was watching her intently again. Jen nodded, reaching back through what she could glean from the past week.

“Ok, well, something triggered Baba Yaga,” she began, starting with the glaringly obvious. “And I don’t think it was someone we saw. I went walking plenty between our last sighting and Las Vegas, so surely if that was it she’d have come to me then.”

“A fair point,” he mused. “Do you think it had something to do with whatever happened in Las Vegas, then?”

Jen considered this.

They had been completely wrapped up in each other the entire weekend, but that didn’t mean something important hadn’t happened or clicked. And how would Baba Yaga have known?

If you were a fey witch, how would you track Astarion?

Scrying, probably.

“Hey Astarion?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Did Baba Yaga ask for like, a lock of hair or toenail or anything?”

“What?”

“Well, I was just wondering how she’s following your progress, because she has to be, right?”

“You make an interesting point. You think she’s scrying?”

“That was where my mind went from my limited Dungeons and Dragons knowledge, yeah.”

“She didn’t ask for any personal effects.”

Could she have taken something of his without the rogue knowing?

Highly unlikely.

Not having something of his didn’t make it impossible to scry, though, just harder. Baba Yaga was obviously familiar with Astarion. And perhaps he wouldn't even feel the tickle of an uninvited watcher without his usual magic. It bore keeping in mind.

“Run me through the riddle again?”

“Beauty taken for beauty returned
Darkness to bring forth light
Balance the scales of time and space
Betwixt the two set right.”

“And that was written on the scroll?”

“No, just what she felt like-”

Astarion stopped talking suddenly, stopped walking along behind her.

“The scroll,” he hissed. “She has the scroll. That thing was mine and Tav’s both. I bet she could scry on either of us through that.”

“Oh shit.”

They exchanged dumbfounded looks for a moment.

“I think you’re right! Ok,” Jen said, trying to get a handle on her excitement at the first breakthrough in weeks, “so we can assume she was watching you and/or Tav. Now we need to figure out what set her off!”

“Very good,” he purred as they started walking again. “You think it’s safe to assume it was around the time of our trip, my dear?”

“Has to be. I mean not one hundred percent, but that would make sense. Or the week after maybe. We never did run into the one at the aquarium.”

Astarion cleared his throat.

“Er, I had the wrong aquarium.”

Jen turned and stared at him for a moment. That would explain the failure there.

“Well fuck me. Which aquarium was she at?”

“I don’t recall,” he muttered, glancing away.

“You should look that up.”

“I will, but given that little tidbit, it probably didn’t have to do with that particular woman.”

“Could be she doesn’t want you to go to another aquarium?”

“Then why would she target you and not me?”

Jen frowned, looking out at the bright white slabs of rock at the creek bend. She slid off the trail down to the cracked stones that made this stretch of rock-dotted shore.

“Because I’m the weak link. She gets me away from you, then you’ve got to find a new partner.”

And yet Jen had let Baba Yaga dislodge her all the same.

Not so forcefully that I’d dare to not help him. I’d never do that to him.

No, but it had been enough to hinder their search, enough to make Jen want to think of anything other than Tav. Jen crouched down and flipped over a few stone slates, checking for fossil imprints. She glanced at Astarion, who stood at the edge of the bank where the woodland humus met the stones.

He wasn’t saying anything, simply chewing his lip as his eyes moved in thought. He spoke very slowly, picking through his sentence with extreme care.

“If I could tell you to tell Tav she’s her, then it seems to me I could simply hire someone else to tell her at this point, goodwill notwithstanding." He gave a small head shake as Jen blinked at him and returned to his usual cadence. "So I’m not certain that’s why she would target you.”

“Why else then,” Jen asked with a puzzled frown.

“You must be more important for some reason.”

Jen flipped another few rocks over as she thought about this, but much like she'd found a whole lot of nothing beneath her hands, she couldn’t figure what exactly she’d be important for. She straightened and glanced back to see if Astarion was ready to continue wandering.

He was watching her again, and he had that intensity back.

“Do you have any theories,” she asked.

He scowled ferociously for a few moments, then shrugged. She shrugged back.

“Me neither.”

“What about the riddle,” he asked as they picked their way across to the far bank. Jen stepped through shallow water and hopped from rock to rock. Astarion just leapt the whole creek in a graceful bound.

“Beauty taken…” she muttered, tracing a hand along the limestone and looking up the short cliff above them. “What did you say happened when Tav wrote on the scroll?”

“She started aging far too rapidly. Weeks in a day, months in a week.”

“You don’t think that’s the first line, do you?”

Astarion straightened and looked at her with a furrowed brow and tilted head.

“How?”

“Beauty taken. People tend to get a little less beautiful as they age.”

“Pish posh. Tav was always gorgeous.”

“I’ll tell her you said that,” Jen said with a chuckle.

“Please do.”

“But you think the hag, who actually riddle-fied the scroll, saw it that way? Baba Yaga seemed a bit… not necessarily shallow, but she seemed the type to find physical beauty more important than the rest.”

“Perhaps,” he trailed off, scrutinizing her again. 

Jen glanced at him, then at a weathered cleft that ran to the top of the small cliff. She could probably scramble up through it to the top if she had about two more feet of height to start with.

“Give me a boost?”

Astarion obliged, still mulling this thought over.

“That would imply something’s been returned to me the line all taken together. But the scroll wasn’t ever about finding Tav again. The scroll was what Tav wrote for our quest together back when she was alive and well in Faerûn.”

Jen scrambled the rest of the way up the sloping cleft in the solid rock. Astarion leapt to the ledge he’d boosted her onto, climbed the rest of the way, and stopped beside her at the top.

They’d found themselves at the top of the twenty foot cliff in a small clearing. It was no more than a dozen feet across and two dozen deep, but there was almost no ground clutter, no doubt due to the fact that they stood on nearly bare rock. Short trees, probably a mix of whatever native pioneer species could manage the higher, drier spot ringed the little clifftop.

Jen could see the rooftops of houses off behind the trees a ways, but no other signs of people, even through the bare branches.

“This is fantastic,” she breathed.

“Mmm,” Astarion sighed, “wonderful secluded spot to soak in the sunshine.”

“Sit for a bit?”

“Yes.”

He brushed a spot clear of as much rock dust and pebbles as he could manage before sitting down, legs stretched out in front of him, just leaning back into the sunlight.

Jen plopped down beside him a few feet away and looked at him with his pale, smooth face turned up to the sun. If she had known this little spot was here, she’d have brought her picnic blanket for him. 

Once again, she found her gaze wandering over the angled lines of his devastatingly gorgeous face. He could have been carved from the very limestone they sat on, like he sprang fully formed into the world as the vision he was.

I mean, technically he did. Here at least.

Jen sighed.

This was silly. Why was she looking at him like he was a work of art that she couldn’t touch? Right now, for the moment, this man was hers.

Jen scooched closer, bumping her hip against his, jostling him out of his unknowable thoughts. He looked down and met her eyes, lips curling up in pleased surprise.

“Hi,” she said, leaning back onto her arms, mirroring him. She slipped her hand over his. “You looked peaceful.”

Astarion smiled at her.

“I was. More so now.”

He slid his hand out from under hers, and twined his fingers with her own, before letting his weight fall back on his palm once more. He turned his face upward into the sky again and closed his eyes. Jen did the same, taking a nice, deep breath of winter air, close enough now to catch a faint hint of him beside her.

Fuck I missed this.

Why in the fucking world did she think starving herself of his affections when they were still hers to enjoy was smart? For today at least, it was still just them. No Tav to be seen.

“You’ll keep pondering it, won’t you,” he asked, and Jen didn’t have to ask what he was talking about.

“I will.”

Notes:

See? They're doing better! They're making progress! They're working together and Astarion is getting his mud mephit reoriented in the right direction! Also - I hope the one of y'all who mentioned Baba Yaga getting her entertainment from these two fools got an extra giggle out of the scrying reveal, cus, yeah, you know she's been watching these idiots. This was written well before and I immediately flashed forward to it when reading the comment!

So, what's probably going to happen the next few weeks is this. I'm going to finish about the last dozen chapters all at the same freaking time. I have almost every one of them at least half written at this point, lol. If this comes to pass, I'll likely post them all the way through at 3-4 a week anyway, just to give y'all time to absorb and theorize and have fun getting there ahead of these two.

I'll be honest, the complete ultimate ending in the epilogue is exactly where I wanted them to be. How these two are going to get there from here, however, went wilder than I first had it written, but I like it better. There's a strong chance I'll add a final chapter (appendix) with extra thoughts and notes and cut bits and such at the very end. No idea if this is a thing folks do with a long fic generally, but it's mine so it's happening. 😅 It'd give plenty of space for thoughts and questions y'all have leftover, too.

Chapter 56: Misfit and Moron

Summary:

The BG3 file continues, and the pair have some fun telling tales as they attend the circus.

56. Misfit and Moron

‘I’ve actually just been hired. Meet your new bard!’

“Oof. Viola Silvertongue won’t be happy. Oh well, she should have practiced those high notes… Welcome to the circus - a motley crew of misfits and morons. We’re happy to have you!”

Astarion giggled behind her. Jen veered off to the right immediately upon crossing the threshold.

“Where are you going, darling? There’s nothing down there.”

“Uh, to play?”

“Ugh, gods. You too?”

Jen stood next to the dragonkin with the lute, swapped her violin for a flute to focus on the melody, and joined in on ‘Bard Dance.’ She hummed along with her character, head bobbing happily back and forth.

“This is such a catchy tune.”

Astarion muttered under his breath and then spoke louder.

“Tav was particularly fond of it, herself.”

Jen sighed and rolled her eyes, stopping her playing and picking up the coins scattered around her avatar.

“You don’t know how magical this felt the first time through,” she said, “being able to not only stop and play for a crowd anywhere, but being able to join in with the NPCs performing perfectly in sync. It never got old.”

“Yes, yes. Let’s go clean out that cheating djinni.”

“Clean him out?”

“Yes,” Astarion purred. He shifted excitedly. “Let’s do something different this time, darling! Let’s see if I can play this just like what actually happened.”

Jen tossed a glance over her shoulder, watching him fidget with excitement.

“Mmmk. What first?”

“Go talk to him. Spin the wheel.”

“APPROACH, UGLY ONE.”

‘Incredible. I know a good set of pipes when I hear them, and you have them.’

“YES. BEHOLD - AKABI’S WHEEL OF WONDERS. SPIN TO WIN PRIZES BEYOND YOUR TINY IMAGINATION, AND MAKE YOUR MISERABLE LIFE MORE BEARABLE.”

“Was he really this fucking rude?”

“He was wonderful,” Astarion giggled.

‘What kind of things can I win?’

“AKABI HAS TRAVELED ACROSS THE PLANES - BURNING AND CONQUERING ALL. WIN THE SPOILS OF SUCH CONQUEST! OR, IF LUCK SMILES UPON YOU, WIN THE GRAND PRIZE - THE JACKPOT.”

‘What is the jackpot?’

“NO MORE QUESTIONS. SPIN OR DON’T.”

‘I’d like to spin the wheel.’

“LET US SEE IF YOU HAVE LUCK’S FAVOR.”

They watched the wheel spin, watched Tav’s oblivious face fail the perception check.

“ALAS - NO JACKPOT FOR YOU, UGLY ONE. BUT YOU MAY HAVE THIS.”

‘Thanks… I guess.’

“What’d he give you? What did you get?”

“YOU ARE WELCOME, PUTRID ONE. RETURN AGAIN TO TRY ANEW.”

“Looks like I got a…” she opened her inventory, “‘Lonely Left Boot of Elvenkind.’”

“That’s a load of rubbish. Let me try, darling.”

Jen giggle-snorted and stepped back from the djinni, clicking the ear to watch Astarion give it a whirl. She choked out a laugh at the furiously scowling face on the screen as Akabi called Astarion, too, ‘Ugly One.’ Clearly that djinni was blind.

Astarion skipped all the questions and went straight to spinning the wheel, and he succeeded where Tav had just failed, catching the glint in Akabi’s beard as the wheel rolled off of the jackpot slot. Jen laughed harder at the absolutely insulted face the rogue on the screen wore. Heven fucking forbid someone scam him.

“ALAS - NO JACKPOT FOR YOU, UGLY ONE. BUT YOU MAY HAVE THIS.”

“Nice trick rigging the wheel, but you need to work on your technique - it’s obvious.”

“You would accuse me, Akabi: Destroyer of Planes - of cheating? I am, however, feeling gracious. So I will forget this and allow you to spin again. Or I can turn you into something vile. Choose.”

“DO YOUR WORST, YOU CHEATING BASTARD.”

Jen covered her mouth and began giggling in anticipation, whipping around to stare at him in wonder.

“You got turned into cheese? For real?”

“Yes,” he sighed heavily.

“BEHOLD - MY FURY!”

Jen giggled and then fell to laughing as Astarion started chasing carnival goers around as a wheel of cheese.

"How does that even work?"

“I don't know and I wish I could figure out how he did it. It made for a dreadfully hilarious prank. But the fun’s not over yet, my dear.”

They waited for Astarion to return to his handsome self, at which point he marched straight back over to Akabi, who loudly informed the ‘vile cheesy one’ that the wheel was closed to him. Jen watched as Astarion walked calmly behind the djinni, crouched down, and targeted him.

“Oh I know where this is going,” she said, hitting him with Bardic Inspiration.

“Thank you, my dear. Now if you could just keep him occupied for a moment…”

Jen shook her head and pretended to keep the attention of the rude carnie as Astarion rummaged around in- what even?

“Did he even have pockets?”

“A tiny little coin purse on that belt of his, next to the scimitar. But plucking that ring off of his beard took a rather skilled hand, if I do say so myself,” he proclaimed, wiggling his fingers.

She watched the elf stand, suddenly turn into a tiefling, and saunter right back out to talk to Akabi all over again. And this time, that wheel landed on the jackpot.

“Impossible. YOU THIEF. YOU CHEATED.”

“HOW DOES IT FEEL, SUCKER?”

Jen started laughing all over again as an admittedly rather handsome looking tiefling smirked at the djinni.

“YOU. DARE!? ENJOY THE JACKPOT, MEWLING CURD.”

“What in the hells? Djinni? Where did you send me?”

“You went to Chult!”

“Yes,” he purred. “I had a lovely little hunting holiday sampling exotic vintages. I even brought back souvenirs for my favorite traveling companions. My darling Tav got a wonderfully helpful little ring, and Karlach was treated to a very powerful trident. She loved to see how far she could throw that pointy stick and watch it woosh right back.”

Jen couldn’t stop smiling. The same fucking thing had played out on her playthrough, almost to the letter.

“Ok, well, you go make friends with the local fauna. I’m getting a drink real quick.”

After settling on one of her loose leaf varieties, Jen returned to find him waiting for her in front of Boney and Stoney. Because of course he was.

“You want a statue, don’t you?”

“Yes please,” he purred.

“Go on. But pick the camp clothes.”

“What? You don’t want-”

“Not in camp! You really want all of them staring at your schlong?”

He giggled and grinned at her. She rolled her eyes.

"I assume Tav bought you a statue?"

"She did."

"Great, well, when you’re done posing, it’s my turn for some fun.”

“Ugh,” he sneered, face scrunching up in pure disgust. “Dribbles?”

“You betcha. Leave the rest of your followers behind. This one’s best with just the two of us. Got to make sure our star gets all his lines.”

Jen fed Crimson and shut Shadow-Whiskers in her cell permanently before dragging the reluctant elf over to the stage.

“Are you actually afraid of clowns?”

“Just look at them!”

“They look like harmless dorks.”

“You can’t see what’s going on under all that makeup. It’s unsettling, darling. I can’t stand it.”

Jen’s head tilted as she thought about this. She could barely tell what the hell people were thinking from their face alone without makeup or paint, so it didn’t bother her at all. But for Astarion, whose very survival hinged on being able to quickly and accurately interpret the person in front of him for two centuries?

It made too much sense.

“Well shit, you’re almost making me feel bad for what’s about to happen.”

“Just go on,” he sighed. “Get it over with.”

“Buddy the dog is my very best friend. Do you know why?”

“Why!”

“Because with him, anything is paws-ible! Wa-hey!”

“Oh good, puns. Because clowns aren’t enough of a horror already.”

“Did you hear about the scarecrow who lost a fight?”

‘Sure did - his opponent was really clutching at straws!”

Astarion sighed loudly.

“Just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Nope.”

“Neither could she.”

“Wa-hey! Looks like we’ve got a proper comedian in our midst! Good thing too, I’ll need someone with your wits for my next trick. Now, where are you…? You - my special assistant. Come on up.”

‘You love the spotlight, don’t you, Astarion? Here’s your big chance.’

Jen burst out laughing at the immediate reaction from his doppelganger and his actual self.

“What? No. Don’t you dare. This isn’t funny.”

“Why do you hate me?”

“Oof, my heart! The enthusiasm is… too much! Now, up, up - double sharp! Or poor Buddy will think you don’t like him. Right there - perfect!”

‘Go on, Astarion!’

“Of course, what fun! I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“I swear that is one of your best lines.”

“The one where I threaten to kill you? You would like that.”

“Please tell me Tav sent you up on stage.”

Gods, the sneer Astarion turned on her was the most eloquent thing he’d said all day. The more she heard about this woman the more she was warming to her. Jen ignored the stitch in her side from laughing, and watched as all hell broke loose before them.

“Ah, now this was the enjoyable part,” he growled. “Killing the clown. And I got to do the honors.”

Aaaand fake Dribbles was dead. Main hand, off hand, both crits. Astarion giggled. Jen grinned and couldn’t contain herself.

“Question?”

“Hm?”

“Did he taste funny?”

The breath of disapproval that hissed out behind her set her off all over again.

“Yes, very clever. Let’s go talk business with Lucretious.”

“I love her.”

“Oh, I agree. She’s marvelous!”

“Y’all find all the bits of Dribbles?”

“We did. Made a date of it when the others got tired of looking, actually.”

“Seriously? Hunting down body parts was your idea of a date?”

“Oh, no. It was Tav’s.”

Of course it was.

“She was always clambering about in places no sane individual belonged,” he sighed. “You’ll get along swimmingly.”

Jen said nothing to this, not sure what response would even make sense.

Cool? Nifty? I don’t know? Are you sure? I’m fucking her soulmate, so maybe not?

“We’ll get the hand from Popper in a bit. One last thing before we leave.”

“Mmm. Let me guess. The, ah, dryad?”

Jen let out a clipped little breath.

“So y’all met Orin here, too, then?”

“Yes. Caused quite a ruckus between us. But let’s play this out, shall we?”

Astarion cast a glance over his shoulder at her, one that she couldn’t read successfully, as she walked over to Zethino. As her brain got out ahead of her, she was suddenly finding herself a bit gun-shy about the coming dialogue.

“Violence erupts here - my home. My refuge in this city of stone and steel. Solace escapes me… Your eyes, stira. There is pain, endless and deep. But also devotion - blazing like the sun. You’re in love, are you not?”

Jen eyed the screen. Ah yes. This was why.

‘I do love someone - someone close to me, actually.’

“You are wise to admit it.”

Well, guess that made her a fool then.

“When it comes to love, vulnerability is armour. Truth a sword. And trust, a shield. I pray you wield all three, stira.”

Mmhm. Yup. She was 0-for-3 at the moment. Astarion’s head was tilting thoughtfully behind her as he watched the cutscene playing out on her screen instead of his own, a fact she was not very keen on.

“Bring the one you love to me. I will look into your hearts and see if your love is eternal. Or doomed eternally.”

‘Astarion, are you up for this?’

Because she wasn’t. All this talk of eternal love was making her squirm. Ostensibly, this was about Tav, but fuck if she didn’t feel like this was talking straight to her today.

“Oh my love, how could I say no?”

“Close your eyes, little ones. Be still as stone to earth. And remember to breathe.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want, though,” she tried, attempting to ease her own tension with a crappy joke. “To breathe, that is.”

She was rewarded with that clipped half laugh and a brief smile that meant it hadn’t been funny. Jen watched as the screen changed, the pair guided by the dryad into a space brimming with life and serenity.

“I see you. I see the bond between you. So tender. So fragile. But do you see it for yourselves?”

Jen blinked at the screen.

Hm. Yeah. This was hitting really differently this time. She found her thumb nail tracing the bottom edge of the keyboard again.

“Astarion: a tumultuous past hides behind a mirthful grin. The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous. When is he happiest?”

‘When he’s elbow-deep in gore.’

She grinned at the elated giggle behind her.

“Guilty as charged. Sometimes literally.”

“Hear how your bond thrums with pleasure. Strong. Vital. Pulsing with affection.”

Was it? She shouldn’t be blushing at the screen just because she’d had a character select an option in a game. Or was she blushing at his giggle?

“Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, what does he desire more than anything?”

‘Freedom.’

The exasperated sigh was mirrored in surround sound.

“You’re not wrong, but do we need to tell every stranger we meet our business?”

“You couldn’t just lie, darling? Just this once for me?”

“The sweetest loves dance lightly on the tongue. But now we must dig deeper. Into the most painful reaches of the spirit. Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it.”

Yeah, maybe the pixel lady could tell her something she didn’t already know?

“Astarion - what is his deepest fear?”

‘Forever feeling like a slave to someone else.’

He was shaking his head behind her, wearing a bemused smile.

“Really? I mean, yes, but - really? You’d just tell whatever stranger walked up and asked?”

“There is no need for secrecy here. You wear your truth so close to the skin.”

Jen watched her avatar step out onto the log bridging the gap between them as Astarion did the same.

“Well… You were right every time. I almost wish you hadn’t been, but you do know me…”

“How close you are. Two hearts beating a perfect rhythm. But I know the truth. Only one face haunts your dreams each night.”

“Well done telling Orin all our secrets, darling,” he exclaimed, voice brimming with cheery sarcasm.

“Oh shut up. I didn’t know it was her.”

“Close your eyes, sweetness, and she will come to you… “

“You had this argument,” Jen realized, “didn’t you?”

“Oh Tav and I had quite the argument after this. Camp was awkward for hours afterward.”

“You’re the lickspittle who crushed the Bone Lord’s thrall. Have you come beg-begging, sniffing for our stones?  Gortash won’t like that. A throat his black hand can’t choke the spit from. Your bond will not save you. He will wrap its cord around your neck and make you swing from it.

“When you find the lordling, tell him Orin is watching.”

“What did you argue about,” Jen asked, thoroughly amused by the notion of him and his soulmate arguing about anything at all.

His grating chuckle sounded behind her.

“She didn’t see the harm in telling the dryad the truth. I, on the other hand, am rather used to having the truth wielded to injure, so I would have much preferred her to just shut her damn mouth. But no,” he sneered, “she just had to prove she was right. To the bloody shapechanger no less.”

Jen suppressed a giggle, and spun the chair, grinning.

“What else did you guys argue about?”

He raised his eyebrow and smirked.

“Find this all entertaining do you?”

Jen pulled a guilty face and shrugged.

“Yeah actually. A lot of media makes soulmates sound so… completely perfect. Like arguing is proof you’re not. I kind of like that y’all got at each others’ throats.”

“Didn’t we,” he sighed, still grinning as he stared back into the past.

“Let’s see… there was also what to do with Cazador’s palace after he was dead. Whether or not Gale should be allowed to blow himself up. Which bank vaults we should or should not steal from and whether to return the money the Zhent made off with.”

Astarion stopped counting it out on his fingers and smiled at Jen.

“We got into it with each other plenty, my dear. It made for excellent make-up sex.”

Jen started and blushed, turning away to her screen again. Ok, she was not going to be picturing him with another woman, thank you very much. Unless they were arguing. That she was just fine picturing.

Astarion seemed to become aware of how the last remark landed, and cleared his throat quietly.

“Speaking of killing the bastard, shall we go find my brethren?”

Jen nodded and grinned.

“Soon. Hold still so I can click you first. This line is great.”

“It’s not enough we have a gallery of villains to look out for, but now we could be infiltrated by a shapechanger? I can’t even tell if any of you are acting strange because you’ve been replaced or because this group is full of weirdos!”

“Endeariating asshole,” she said over her shoulder as he giggled at himself.

“You’re one to talk this week.”

Jen shrugged and led the party onward out of the circus.

Gods, things just felt so much better when they could do this, the teasing and the banter. Riffing off each other. Getting into mutual giggle fits.

What the hell had she been thinking?

She hadn’t been. She’d let that damn hag form her fears into a homerun bat and send her soaring into the skybox.

Never again.

Notes:

A little later than average today because my car refused to start this morning. Yee-haw.

So. Seven chapters totally written, three half (+/-) written, and two in detailed outline state. That's what I've got left work wise, currently. Which means our final count is liable to be... 68! Plus appendix. So 69. (Lol. Awww yeeeeaaaah.) The next couple are still pretty chill, with a few 'oof' moments since we're deep into our rogue's in game story line now. After that, things get a little heavier as they head into the palace and then all hell breaks loose. Not literally, but you'll see.

This means def three chapters including this one this week, and potentially four if I'm happy with the amount of editing that fourth has. No promises there, cus it's a big one.