Rating: Mature
Word count: 3.8k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Tags/Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, Astarion mischief, gith creche
Summary: Astarion and Misty cause mischief at the crèche. Misty makes a new friend.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
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Wyll faced grave consequences for refusing to hunt down Karlach. His patron, Mizora, who tasked him with the mission, explained that he broke their pact since Karlach reached the criteria by lacking a beating heart, a loophole the warlock hadn't anticipated. His refusal earned him a pair of long, twisted horns, a visible mark of his defiance and Mizora's punishment. Wyll now viewed himself as a monster, his once proud and confident demeanor now marred by self-loathing and shame.
Despite his internal struggle, his companions rallied around him, offering support and understanding. Skye, in particular, felt a pang of empathy for Wyll. She saw beyond the horns and recognized the pain and regret in his eyes. To her, the horns didn't look bad; they actually paired quite nicely with the rest of him, adding a rugged charm to his already striking appearance. She admired his courage in standing up to Mizora, even if it came at such a personal cost.
The following morning, they set off to the mountain pass, where the crèche awaited them on the other side. The path ahead seemed straightforward, but just before they could pass through, each member of the party felt an excruciating pain in their heads, dragging them to the dirt beneath them. Writhing in agony, they were shown a vision by a voice in their minds: three figures appeared—an armored elf, a younger man with a quick, easy smile, and a pale woman with paler eyes. The voice, authoritative and insistent, commanded them to aid in the search for the Prism, the very artifact Shadowheart clutched close to her chest.
As the pain intensified, Shadowheart, with a mixture of desperation and determination, pulled out the Prism. It shone brightly, enveloping them in a radiant red aura. The light's warmth and intensity drove away the pain and silenced the intrusive voice that had tried to control them.
In the aftermath, Shadowheart, usually guarded and secretive, revealed a fragment of her true self. Reluctantly, she admitted her devotion to Shar, the goddess of darkness and loss. Her confession hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the morning's chaos. Yet, neither of the air genasi judged her. Skye and Misty understood that they all harbored their secrets and dark parts within themselves.
Lae'zel, however, was less forgiving. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she quickly accused Shadowheart of stealing a Githyanki relic. Tension crackled between them, threatening to escalate. But Skye, with her usual calm and composed demeanor, swiftly intervened. She placed a gentle but firm hand on Lae'zel's shoulder, her voice steady and soothing, diffusing the situation before it could spiral out of control.
The group, still shaken by the morning's events, agreed it was best to set up camp for the night.
Later that night, Skye was visited in her dreams by a strange man who looked eerily similar to Astarion. He told her she was transforming, which caused her to panic. Yet upon hearing his voice, the man sounded familiar and it was then she realized he was the one who saved her and Misty during the escape of the nautiloid. He promised to protect her from the tadpole's influence, but she was skeptical. It was very convenient that this strange man showed up out of nowhere to "rescue" her from turning into an abomination. Maybe it was all in her head. He did look like Astarion for some reason. Weird.
However, upon the strange man telling her to embrace the tadpole's potential, she quickly recoiled. Something wasn't right. Yet he didn't say much more besides losing a battle for the fate of Faerun.
With a sudden jolt, she was pushed to consciousness, gasping for breath as she awoke. The night was still, and the campfire crackled softly nearby. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to shake off the remnants of the dream.
Sitting up, Skye glanced around at her sleeping companions, her mind racing with the implications of the encounter. She couldn't dismiss the strange man's words, nor the eerie resemblance to Astarion. Was it all in her head, a manifestation of her fears and doubts? Or was there a deeper truth to his warning?
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After a few days of travel and mischief, the party finally made it to the crèche. Inside, the hall was illuminated by stone braziers mounted along the walls, casting flickering shadows across the room. The air was thick with tension, and the scent of burning oil mingled with the faint metallic tang of weapons. Various githyanki stood among the braziers, their eyes sharp and wary. Each wore armor similar to Lae'zel's.
Yet, the group's arrival did not go unnoticed. The githyanki stared at them with a mix of caution and suspicion, their hands hovering near their weapons.
One gith in particular stepped forward, her gaze hard and unyielding as she addressed Skye directly. "Sentries, to arms! Istik. State your purpose. Quickly."
Lae'zel met the woman's gaze with an equal measure of apprehension. "Stand down, gish. Is it not Vlaakith's command to welcome her faithful?"
The gith's eyes narrowed, her stance remaining defiant. "I expected no visitors, faithful or otherwise. Why have you come?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
Skye exchanged a determined look with Lae'zel, trusting that her companion knew what she was doing. Lae'zel turned back to the gith, her eyes burning with determination. "We seek the zaith'isk. Show me the way."
The room fell into a tense silence, the crackling of the braziers the only sound. The woman studied Lae'zel intently, her piercing gaze sweeping over the rest of the group, assessing the strangers in their midst. For a fleeting moment, a hint of fear flashed in her eyes. "You are infected?" she asked, her voice tinged with both suspicion and alarm. Her hand moved instinctively towards her weapon. "A ghaik thrall is something to eradicate, not reason with."
Lae'zel's eyes widened, her usual confidence faltering. "The faithful may be purified," she pleaded. "This is Vlaakith's protocol!"
The woman glared at them for a long, tense moment, her face a mask of conflicted emotions. The shadows danced across her stern features, emphasizing the hard lines etched by years of discipline and duty.
"Chk. Fine," she finally spat out, her tone laced with disdain. "Let the ghustil carry out your fate. Report to the infirmary at once. And step carefully. Crèche Y'llek watches you." She pointed down a corridor, her eyes narrowing as she issued the command.
With the gith's words granting them passage, they were allowed further into the monastery. The air inside was heavy with an ancient stillness, the stone corridors lined with relics and artifacts of githyanki heritage.
As they wandered through the dimly lit hallways in search of the infirmary, Astarion and Misty lagged slightly behind. Their eyes were drawn to a large, ornately framed painting of a noble-looking gith. The figure in the painting stared expressionlessly ahead, her stern features framed by elaborate armor.
The two delinquents exchanged a mischievous smirk. It was clear they had connected their tadpoles to communicate silently. When Lae'zel walked ahead, focused on their mission, Astarion and Misty seized the opportunity.
With a quick glance to ensure they were unobserved, the duo ran up to the painting. Suppressing giggles, they began to draw on the gith's face, adding a mustache, monocle, devil horns, and other exaggerated features. Their laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, echoing softly in the vast hallway.
Their fun was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a throat being cleared. The mischievous pair froze, their eyes widening in alarm as they slowly turned around. Skye stood behind them, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
The air genasi's disapproval was palpable, her gaze stern and unyielding. She mouthed silently for them to come to her, her eyes narrowing slightly in warning. Reluctantly, the two shuffled over, their playful expressions quickly replaced by sheepish grins.
As soon as they were within reach, Skye grabbed both of their ears, her grip firm but not painful. "Really?" She began to pull them along, their protests and attempts at excuses falling on deaf ears. "We're here on serious business," the air genasi continued, her voice stern. "We can't afford to make enemies or draw unwanted attention."
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Misty managed to break away from the group once again as she heard discord coming from another room. The sounds of a heated argument and the unmistakable tone of reprimand piqued her curiosity. As she quietly slipped through the doorway, her eyes widened at the scene unfolding before her.
In the center of the room stood a githyanki man, his posture rigid with authority. He was waggling his finger admonishingly at a young boy who was only a few years older than her. The boy stood weakly, his body marked with fresh cuts and bruises.
"K'chaki!" the man exclaimed, his voice echoing harshly off the stone walls. "We are training to fight ghaik. You think they will hesitate?"
The boy, his face pale and strained, stuttered as he tried to explain himself, "They won't need to, if we keep killing each other for them! It's—it's stupid! Orph—"
"Silence!" the man shouted, cutting him off abruptly. He looked over his shoulder and noticed Misty standing in the doorway, her eyes furrowed in concern and anger.
"It seems your childish prattling is attracting an audience," he sneered, turning his attention back to the boy. "You fight again. This time, daggers only. And to the death as instructed." His gaze swept around the room, lingering on the faces of those present. "Who wants to challenge this sniveling istark?"
Misty's heart pounded in her chest. The tension in the room was palpable, and the boy's fear was almost tangible. She could see the other githyanki warriors in the room exchanging looks.
Before anyone could step forward, the young genasi felt a surge of defiance. She couldn't stand by and watch this cruelty unfold. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room, her eyes blazing with determination. "Leave him alone!" her voice rang out with a fierce conviction. The words echoed off the cold stone walls, silencing the room and drawing all eyes to her. "You've made your point."
The githyanki man's gaze snapped to Misty. His expression hardened, and he approached her with deliberate, measured steps. The air between them crackled with tension as their eyes locked in a heated exchange. The man's eyes were cold and unyielding, but Misty stood her ground, her small frame brimming with defiance.
For a moment, it seemed as though their standoff would continue indefinitely. Then, with a begrudging sigh, the man backed off, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "I suppose your inane spewings have distracted enough from my lesson," he said with a hint of reluctant acknowledgment.
With a sudden, brutal motion, the man smacked the boy in the neck with the hilt of his sword. The boy cried out in pain, collapsing to the ground. The man's expression remained cold and unfeeling as he looked down at the fallen child.
"Go whet the swords," he ordered gruffly. "I want them sharp enough to peel a ghaik's eyeball just by looking at them."
The boy scrambled to his feet, his body trembling as he scurried to fulfill the harsh command. His gaze flicked toward Misty, a glimmer of gratitude and hope shining through his fear. Misty's heart ached for him, but she knew her fight wasn't over yet.
The githyanki man slowly turned his head, his eyes meeting Misty's once again. There was a glint of challenge in his gaze, and he sneered as he spoke. "I hope you prove as weak as this should we meet on the battlefield, istik."
His words were a cruel taunt, a final shot aimed at undermining her resolve. With that, he turned and walked away.
As soon as the man was out of her sight, Misty hurried over to the boy who had begun to follow the harsh orders given to him. His shoulders were hunched, and he worked with a weary resignation, his movements slow and deliberate. When he noticed the young girl approaching, a small, hesitant smile slowly spread across his face.
"That was amazing," he said, his voice soft but full of admiration. "I've never seen someone talk the sa'varsh down from a rage like that."
Misty's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and relief at his words. She stood beside him, her gaze softening as she took in the bruises and cuts that marred his young face. "Well, he was wrong!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with conviction. "Nobody should have to go through that. Are you okay? He hit you pretty hard."
The boy shrugged, trying to downplay the pain. "I've been worse," he said with a faint smile. "My name's Varrl." He returned his attention to the task at hand, the metal of the sword catching the dim light as he worked to sharpen it. "He's always telling us how we have to be ruthless, that death is the only mercy we deliver."
He paused, glancing back at Misty with a thoughtful expression. "But you...you showed compassion and kindness. It's something we don't see often here. You're just like—" He hesitated, his words trailing off as he looked away, a hint of something he couldn't quite articulate flickering in his eyes. "Nevermind."
Misty placed a gentle hand on Varrl's arm, causing him to pause his whetting. Her touch was light, but it carried a sense of genuine curiosity and concern. "Just like who? Are they here? I'd love to meet them!"
Varrl's eyes darted around the room, checking to ensure no one was watching. With a swift, cautious motion, he grabbed Misty's wrist and pulled her into a nearby alcove. The small, dimly lit space was barely large enough for the two of them.
"I speak of... of Orpheus," the boy whispered, his voice trembling with awe and excitement. "The true prince..." He leaned in closer, his eyes wide and earnest. "He's so strong, and—and wise. And he rides a comet. A comet!"
The young genasi's eyes widened in fascination, and she couldn't help but giggle at Varrl's enthusiastic description. "A comet? That sounds incredible!"
Varrl nodded vigorously, his face lighting up with a bright, infectious smile. "Yes! He's everything we're told to forget. We're forbidden to talk about him. They say Vlaakith knows if you even think his name." He pulled out a small, round slate from beneath his armor, its surface etched with intricate, circular symbols. The slate was worn but well-cared-for, and Varrl handled it with a reverence that spoke volumes.
"I found his book... part of it, anyway," he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I read it all the time. He's unbelievable." He traced a finger over the symbols on the slate.
The young genasi leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued. "Do others here read these stories?"
Varrl shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I don't think so. No one I've met. I drew his symbol where I thought someone might see it and recognize it. But nobody did." He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I must have the only copy."
Misty cocked her head, her curiosity piqued. "How did you get the book then?"
The boy's expression turned contemplative as he took a step closer to the young genasi, lowering his voice even further, as though the very walls might overhear. "A group of warriors came. Outsiders, on a mission for Vlaakith herself. Sa'varsh Kethk made us clean their armor, and... I found it inside one of the breastplates."
He paused, a mixture of reverence and frustration coloring his voice. "I wish I knew who it belonged to. I have so many questions!" His eyes lit up. "Hopefully one day I'll find them."
Misty listened intently, her mind racing with possibilities. The significance of what Varrl had uncovered was evident, and the fact that it was hidden so well spoke volumes about its importance. After a moment's thought, she asked gently, "Do you mind if I show that book to my friend? Maybe she can help."
Varrl's eyes widened in fear, his body tensing. "You want..." he stammered, his voice trembling. "But—"
The young genasi placed her hands gently on his shoulders, her expression earnest and reassuring. "If you could get killed for having it, maybe it's best if it's in the hands of someone who can do something about it."
As Misty gently withdrew her hands from Varrl's shoulders, he was lost in thought, weighing her words with a conflicted expression. The gravity of the situation was not lost on him, and after a moment's hesitation, he extended the slate toward her with a resigned sigh. "Fine, take it."
Her reassuring smile was warm and sincere as she accepted the slate, carefully tucking it into the pocket of her trousers. She could feel the weight of the object, and with it, the burden of Varrl's trust and the potential it represented.
"It's stupid we can't read it," Varrl said, his voice tinged with frustration. "It's just a story, it's not even true." He shook his head in exasperation, clearly struggling with the conflicting emotions. "I'll do my best to forget what it said. Thank you for taking it."
Misty paused, her hand resting lightly on the alcove's entrance as she prepared to leave. She turned back to Varrl, her expression thoughtful and gentle. "Don't forget what it says," she said softly. "Maybe it's not just a story. Maybe it's the truth."
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The young genasi dashed through the monastery's corridors, her heart pounding as she heard a thunderous explosion echo through the stone halls. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble with the force of it.
As the smoke began to clear, Misty's eyes widened in shock. Her companions emerged, their faces etched with irritation and urgency. Skye, her face set in a determined scowl, was the first to spot her. Without a word, she grabbed Misty's wrist, her grip firm and insistent.
"Wait! What happened?" Misty's eyes darted between her friends.
Lae'zel, who had a stern expression of focus, cast a brief, piercing glance at Misty. Her eyes, hardened by the chaos, revealed no trace of the emotions swirling within her. "The ghustil is a traitor," she declared with grim resolve. "She tried to kill us. We must report this to the kith'rak."
Misty's eyes were wide with urgency as she pulled her arm free from Skye's grasp, her small frame darting in front of Lae'zel. "Wait, Lae'zel. This is really important! I found this and I think you need to see it, too."
With a sense of determined purpose, Misty reached into her trousers and retrieved the slate she had secured earlier. She held it out to Lae'zel, her hands trembling slightly with the weight of the discovery. "Please, take a look. It might be important."
Lae'zel, momentarily halted by Misty's plea, took the slate from her with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. She studied the markings etched into the surface, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Tir'su markings. Ancient," she murmured, tracing the intricate symbols with her eyes. "I recognize them, but I can't make sense of... no, wait."
Her eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, the familiar symbols starting to take shape in her mind. "The texts are enciphered," she continued, her voice a mix of disbelief and realization, "but there's a Common speech translation beneath, carved in a different hand. It's a story about Orpheus."
At the mention of the name, Skye and Astarion exchanged puzzled glances. "Who's Orpheus?" the older sister asked, her curiosity piqued.
"A traitor," Lae'zel spat, her voice filled with disdain. "A dead one. This text is heresy. I can hardly bear to read it, let alone speak it." Her eyes hardened as she looked back at the slate, the disdain in her gaze evident.
As she reached out to return the slate to Misty, the young girl's eyes were filled with desperation. She gently pushed Lae'zel's hand away. "Please, Lae'zel. What does it say?"
The gith let out an exasperated sigh, her eyes rolling as she resignedly held the slate back out. "Very well. I will read it to you."
She took a deep breath and began to read aloud, her voice steady but tinged with irritation. The text unfolded a tale of Orpheus' rebellion against Vlaakith. It described how he led a defiant uprising, rallying his Honour Guard and red dragons against Vlaakith's forces. The narrative painted Orpheus as a grand figure, one whose challenge against Vlaakith was portrayed in dramatic terms. However, his rebellion was ultimately crushed by Vlaakith's knights and their formidable wyrms. The astral sky, the text noted, was set ablaze during the final battle, marking Orpheus' tragic end.
Lae'zel finished reading and spat the name with a mixture of disdain and scorn. "'True Heir,'" she echoed bitterly. "'Glorious Prince.' Chk. There's no greater crime than to exalt the pretender called Orpheus." She tossed the slate aside with a dismissive flick of her wrist, and Misty watched, her eyes wide with shock, as the slate clattered onto the cold stone floor.
The noise of the slate hitting the ground seemed to echo through the chamber, amplifying the tension in the air. Lae'zel's expression was a mix of frustration and disdain as she turned to Misty. "Disregard this drivel," she said sharply. "Gith declared that Vlaakith should be queen. Orpheus would have ceded control to the ghaik."
Skye's gaze met Misty's with a deep concern. "And if it's true? What if Vlaakith really betrayed Gith and seized the throne?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper but laden with intensity.
The question seemed to ignite a spark of fury in Lae'zel. Her eyes blazed with a fierce, almost tangible rage as she turned to face Skye. "She did nothing of the sort!" Lae'zel snapped, her voice sharp and filled with indignation. Her gaze shifted to Skye, who had placed a reassuring hand on her sister's shoulder.
The githyanki's scowl deepened as she looked at the air genasi, her rage barely contained. "Thank your good fortunes I am a tolerant woman," she growled, her voice dripping with menace. "Or I'd have sliced off a few toes for suggesting such heresy."
Amongst the Stars (Chapter 8: The Perks of a Hero)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 3.8k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Tags/Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, waukeens rest, mirror scene
Summary: The party finds out about Ravengard's capture. Skye becomes Astarion's mirror.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
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On their way to the creche, Wyll found the devil he was looking for. Only, she wasn't a devil. She was a tiefling named Karlach, enslaved by Zariel. At first, Wyll was convinced that she was a fiend who needed to be vanquished. His initial encounter with the tiefling was tense, and he was ready to fight. It took Skye's calm demeanor and persuasive words to make Wyll see reason. She pointed out Karlach's plight and the injustice of her enslavement, slowly convincing Wyll that she was not the enemy he had imagined. Reluctantly, he stood down, his sword lowered but his gaze still wary.
As the group got to know her, they learned more about her harrowing situation. A group of so-called paladins of Tyr, who were anything but virtuous, had been hired by Zariel to capture Karlach and drag her back to the hellish realm. These fake paladins were ruthless and relentless, and their pursuit of her was unyielding.
For once, Astarion found common ground with the others and agreed to help. The promise to head to the toll house and confront Karlach's hunters was made with determination. The group knew they were in for a tough fight; Zariel wouldn't hire weaklings for such a task. As they approached it, tension mounted. The battle that ensued was brutal and intense, a true test of their skills and resolve. In the end, they stood victorious, though battered and weary.
Eventually, they continued on their trek with a new companion in tow. As they walked, Misty's eyes suddenly lit up at the sight of an inn in the distance. The stone walls surrounding the large building were a welcome sight. "Look! That must be an inn!" she exclaimed.
Wyll glanced in the direction she was pointing and nodded with a smile. "That's Waukeen's Rest," he explained. "I've stayed there a few times during my travels. It's quite nice."
The young genasi could hardly contain her enthusiasm. She began to bounce up and down in joy. "I've needed a bed for so long!"
Astarion, who usually maintained a veneer of detached amusement, allowed a small smirk to creep onto his face. "You know, I must admit, I have to agree with the wisp. A bed does indeed sound nice."
However, as they approached the fenced perimeter, the building suddenly burst into flames. The roar of the fire was deafening, and thick, acrid smoke billowed into the sky.
The vampire spawn's face fell, his earlier smirk replaced with a look of resigned frustration. "Of course, just our luck," he muttered, crossing his arms in exasperation. The others, driven by a sense of urgency and duty, rushed past him without hesitation.
"Yes, let's just run towards the screams and exploding building. Why not?" Despite his grumbling, he couldn't ignore the pull of his companions' sense of justice. With a roll of his eyes, he followed them towards the burning inn.
What they stumbled upon was a tragedy. The bloodied, limp bodies of Flaming Fists and drow littered the exterior of the building. The ground was slick with blood, and the air was thick with the smell of death. Near the gate, one Flaming Fist soldier was mourning the death of her fellow companion, whose body was cradled diligently in her bloodied hands.
Misty let out an audible gasp at the sight, her eyes wide with horror. "This... this is horrible," she whispered.
"Keep pushing! Duke Ravengard could be inside!" one of the Fists shouted as she and three others pushed against the front doors to the inn. Their efforts were frantic, driven by desperation and hope.
"Ravengard?" Wyll shouted, sharing a glance with Skye. "He's here?!"
The air genasi's eyes narrowed with determination as she glanced back at Gale. "Keep an eye on Misty. I'm going in."
Before his youngest companion could fully grasp what was happening, the wizard immediately wrapped a hand around her wrist, his grip firm yet gentle. "Skye, wait!" Misty called out as she tried to tug her arm away.
Skye turned toward Astarion and grabbed his hand. "We need your help."
The vampire spawn chuckled unamusedly, shaking his head. "No, no, no," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "There's no way I'm running into a burning building."
Skye's expression hardened, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made it clear she wasn't taking no for an answer. "I wasn't asking," she warned.
Before Astarion could protest further, the air genasi summoned a gust of wind with a flick of her wrist, the air swirling around them. The powerful gust pushed him forward, closer to the blazing inferno.
Astarion stumbled, his eyes widening in surprise and annoyance. "You can not be serious!" he exclaimed, struggling to regain his balance. "This is madness!"
"You're faster and nimbler than us! You're helping," Skye insisted. With a determined grunt, she kicked the doors open, the force of her kick sending them crashing inward. "Look for any survivors!" she shouted, her eyes scanning the smoky interior.
The air genasi's hand found Astarion's once more as they stepped into the inferno. The intense heat made it feel like the very air was on fire, but Skye's resolve was unwavering.
"If my cloak gets singed—" Astarion grumbled. Skye cut him off with a quick, firm gesture. She placed her hand across his mouth, her eyes meeting his with a look that brooked no argument.
The air genasi's eyes were sharp, scanning the surroundings for any sign of life. The crackling of the fire and the groans of the building were almost overwhelming, but she heard a faint, desperate noise cutting through the chaos. It sounded like cries for help.
"Come on!" she yelled, pulling Astarion toward the source of the sound. The vampire spawn grumbled under his breath but followed her, his nimble movements helping him dodge falling debris and navigate the treacherous terrain.
They climbed the stairs, each step a challenge as the flames licked at their heels and the smoke grew thicker. Skye led the way, her determination guiding them through the maze of destruction. Astarion, though clearly annoyed, used his agility to clear obstacles and keep pace until they finally reached the door.
"I'm trapped! Someone open this door!" a voice shouted from the other side.
Skye's eyes narrowed as she heard the plea. Without hesitation, she summoned her elemental power and created a whip of wind. The air whipped around her, crackling with energy. With a determined flick of her wrist, she directed the wind at the door, forcing it open with a forceful gust. The door exploded into splinters, showering the room with debris.
Behind the now-ruined door stood an elven woman, her eyes the color of rich chocolate. Her long, plum and gold dress was in stark contrast to the raging flames that licked at the edges of the doorway. The elegance of her attire seemed almost surreal in the midst of the chaos.
As the door shattered, flames began to spark towards them, the heat intensifying. The trio had to shield their faces from the scorching heat and flying embers. The smoke was thick, making it hard to breathe and see clearly.
The elven woman coughed, her voice strained but determined. "Let's move. Quickly! Before the whole place collapses!"
They began to follow her through the smoldering wreckage of the inn. The air was thick with smoke, and the heat from the flames seemed to press in from all directions.
Suddenly, Skye's sharp ears picked up another cry for help, coming from an adjacent room. Her eyes widened with determination. "There's someone else! I need to—" she began, leaning in to grab the door.
Before she could react further, Astarion's heightened senses detected the imminent danger. The rupturing sound was unmistakable. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged at Skye. He tackled her to the ground, just as the door exploded outward in a violent burst, sending a torrent of flames and debris in their direction.
The force of the explosion sent a searing wave of heat over them, and Skye was momentarily disoriented. Astarion's body shielded her from the worst of the blast, his own cloak catching some of the burning debris. The flames roared around them, a wall of fire that made it nearly impossible to see or breathe.
"We can't save everyone, darling," the vampire spawn said through clenched teeth. He pulled Skye to her feet with a strength that was both firm and gentle, guiding her away from the inferno. "We must go, now!"
Skye, coughing and limping, struggled to keep up, but Astarion's support was unwavering. He kept a steady pace, his eyes scanning for any further dangers as they descended the stairs. The building continued to groan and creak ominously, the risk of collapse ever-present.
As they made their way back down, the air grew heavier with smoke, and each step was a battle against the encroaching flames. The heat was relentless, and the building seemed to be collapsing around them.
Finally, they burst through the front doors once more, the cool air a stark and painful contrast to the suffocating heat inside. Skye, still coughing and disoriented, leaned heavily on Astarion for support.
"SKYE!" Misty's voice cut through the chaos. Tears streamed down her face as she bolted toward her sister. She flung her arms around Skye, hugging her tightly. The force of the embrace made the air genasi buckle slightly, her legs trembling under the pressure.
"I'm okay, Mist, I promise," Skye coughed. She gently patted her sister's back, trying to offer comfort despite her own exhaustion.
As soon as Misty released her, Astarion was there. He moved quickly to support Skye, helping her to her feet once more. His eyes were sharp. "That was reckless! Foolish! Even for you!" he scolded.
The air genasi managed a small, pained smile through her grimace. Her eyes, though weary, sparkled with a touch of humor. "Kinda sounds like you care, Star," she quipped, trying to lighten the mood despite the harrowing circumstances.
For a moment, Astarion's carefully maintained mask slipped. At the mention of caring, his face betrayed a flicker of vulnerability—an expression of confusion and discomfort that was rarely seen. The words seemed to hit him harder than expected, momentarily unmooring the aloof façade he so meticulously crafted.
He quickly recovered, though, and his expression hardened once more as he adjusted his demeanor. He glanced down at the singed and soot-streaked bottom of his cloak, using it as a shield to hide his emotions. "See! I told you this would happen!" he exclaimed.
Skye, still catching her breath and feeling the weight of the day's events, managed a strained smile. She reached out and patted his chest, her touch light but comforting. "I'll buy you a new one," she croaked.
Astarion glanced at her, his eyes softening despite his attempts to remain aloof. "That's, um...very kind of you," he said, his tone begrudging but warm. "But let's not make a habit of it, shall we? I'd prefer not to end up as a permanent fixture in your heroic escapades."
The air genasi chuckled softly, her laughter a rasping sound. "No promises."
After managing to escape through one of the other exits of the burning inn, Wyll approached the elven woman with a sense of urgency and concern. His eyes were scanning her for any signs of injury or distress. "Counsellor Florrick, are you alright?"
The elven woman, still recovering from the ordeal, took a moment to compose herself before responding. Her plum and gold dress was singed at the edges, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. Her eyes, though weary, were sharp as she met Wyll's gaze. "A scorched throat, a few hairs singed off. Nothing a bit of time and fresh air can't cure."
Skye raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between the two. Florrick, her face set in a determined expression, turned to the remaining Flaming Fists who were still attending to the aftermath of the fire.
"Gauntlet," she said, addressing one of the Fists with a commanding tone, "a new duty calls. Drow have taken Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard—westward, if my eyes and ears can be believed. Report to the manip and send for reinforcements. We must find the Duke."
The Flaming Fist, visibly startled by the news, nodded quickly. "Understood, Counsellor."
Wyll's face was a picture of shock and disbelief. His eyes widened as he processed the gravity of the situation. "No, it can't be," he stammered, his voice betraying his mounting anxiety. "You mean, they've taken—"
Florrick let out a deep, weary sigh. "Yes, Wyll. The drow have your father."
The news left everyone but the two air genasi visibly stunned. Skye, however, remained calm, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall where she had heard the name before. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Ravengard? I've heard that name before…"
Florrick's gaze sharpened as she addressed the group. "As well you should. He is the great champion of the Council, commander of the Flaming Fist—the binding force holding Baldur's Gate together. Without him, the city faces collapse. In fact, I fear that may have been the intention of those who abducted him."
She then turned her attention to Wyll, her eyes reflecting both a plea and a heavy burden. "Wyll, you may hold little love for your father, but please, find him and return him to the city."
Wyll's face, previously marked by shock, now set into a resolute expression. Without hesitation, he nodded firmly. "Trust us to see it through, Counsellor."
The counsellor's stern demeanor softened slightly, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. She managed a small, encouraging smile. "Thank you, Wyll. When the Grand Duke returns to the city, he'll hail his only son a hero."
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After the intense debrief with Counsellor Florrick, Skye found a moment of respite outside the smoldering remains of the inn. She spotted Astarion sitting on the edge of the inn's fountain, his posture relaxed but his expression decidedly bored.
The air genasi, her limp now gone and her steps light, approached him with a mischievous glint in her eye. She crept up behind him, her hands hidden behind her back as she moved with an almost cat-like stealth.
Astarion's gaze flickered toward her out of the corner of his eye, though he didn't turn to fully acknowledge her presence. Skye sat down beside him with a flourish, her movements deliberate and playful. With a dramatic gesture, she revealed the luminous silver longbow she had been concealing. The bow, adorned with intricate lightning rod accents, seemed to crackle with a faint, electric energy, casting tiny sparks of light as she handed it to him.
"You know, Star," Skye began, her voice rich with a teasing tone, "sometimes, being a hero comes with its perks." Her smirk was playful, her eyes dancing with a blend of mischief and warmth.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle but affectionate squeeze before standing up. Her gaze met his for a brief moment, and then she turned to join the others, her steps purposeful and confident.
The vampire spawn, left alone with the longbow, remained silent. His fingers traced the delicate engravings on the bow, and his eyes followed the subtle crackles of energy that danced along its surface. Though he didn't speak, a faint twitch of his lips hinted at a smile that he couldn't quite suppress.
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"I just put Misty to bed. She's out cold. Ready to—" Skye began, but her voice trailed off as she noticed Astarion sitting by his tent, looking into a handheld mirror. Her initial small smirk faded as she tilted her head in curiosity, seeing the reflectionless surface of the mirror. "What are you doing?"
Astarion hummed thoughtfully before responding. "I'm looking, but not seeing very much." He didn't need to see Skye to sense her gaze fixed on him. "Another quirk of my affliction."
Skye's face fell further as she absorbed his words. Her curiosity and concern were evident in her eyes, and she opened her mouth to say something before closing it again, grappling with the right words to say.
The vampire spawn sensed the shift in her demeanor and turned around to face her, his crimson eyes meeting her golden ones. Skye cleared her throat, her gaze dropping momentarily before she looked back up at him. "I'm sure you miss it. Being able to see your own face," she said quietly.
"Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?" Astarion sighed, his voice carrying a note of frustration. "Of course, I miss it." His gaze shifted away from Skye as he spoke, leaving her to observe the turmoil beneath his composed exterior. "I've never seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red." As he glanced back at her, their eyes met again, revealing the vulnerability he often kept hidden.
The air genasi's expression softened with empathy, and she took a step closer. "Well, it's nothing to worry about. You have quite a nice face," she said, her smile warm and sincere. The kindness in her words seemed to provide a small comfort to Astarion, even as he continued to gaze intently into her eyes.
Curiosity sparked in Skye as she tried to understand more about Astarion's past. "What color were they before?"
Astarion's brows furrowed, and a shadow of sadness crossed his face. "I—I can't remember," he whispered, his voice barely audible. The admission was a painful one, revealing how much of his past had become a blur in the wake of his vampiric transformation. Skye extended her hand, a gesture of support and comfort, but Astarion pulled away, his eyes reflecting a deep-seated sorrow.
"My face is just some dark shape in my past," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. He looked down at the mirror in his hand, the reflectionless surface now a symbol of his disconnection from his former self. With a sudden, decisive motion, he slammed the mirror to the ground, watching as it shattered into countless fragments. The sharp sound of breaking glass punctuated the silence of the night.
The sight of the mirror's destruction elicited a flinch from Skye, her concern evident in her eyes. Astarion's lips twisted into a snarl, the emotional turmoil erupting into anger. "Another thing I've lost."
He looked up to see the air genasi approaching him with a cautious yet determined expression. With a tender touch, she reached out and ran her fingers through his curls, letting her hand come to rest on his cheek. The warmth of her touch contrasted with the coolness of the night air, and her soft smile held a quiet reassurance. Astarion blinked at her, momentarily taken aback by her unexpected gesture. "What?" he asked, his voice tinged with confusion.
Skye's smile remained gentle as she met his gaze. "Let me be your mirror. What do you want to know, Star?"
Astarion let out a deep breath. "I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. What you see."
There was a brief pause as Skye considered his request. Her fingers traced the lines around his eyes. Her touch was light and careful as if she were handling something both precious and fragile.
"I see strong, piercing eyes that have seen unimaginable horrors," Skye began, her voice calm and reflective. "Yet, despite all that, there's still a soft edge to them—a hint of kindness, of vulnerability. They're eyes that have witnessed much pain, but they also hold the potential for compassion and understanding."
As she spoke, Astarion's gaze remained locked with hers, and the raw honesty of her words began to chip away at the defenses he had built around himself. The way she described him wasn't just an observation; it was a profound acknowledgment of the complexity of his existence.
Her hand continued its gentle exploration, trailing down from Astarion's cheek to rest softly on his lips. Her fingers brushed against them with a delicate touch, almost as if trying to memorize their contours. "That dangerous smile," she said softly, her voice tinged with admiration, "especially when it's genuine, lights up a room."
As her gaze lingered on his lips, Skye felt an almost magnetic pull, a momentary hesitation that made her heart race. The connection between them seemed to intensify, and for a fleeting second, she was caught in the gravity of their shared space. The warmth of her touch and the closeness of their faces created a charged atmosphere, and she felt an undeniable pull toward him.
Yet, Skye quickly reined in her emotions, recognizing the significance of the moment and the potential for it to lead to something she might later regret. With a swift and deliberate movement, she withdrew her hand and cleared her throat.
"You—you're not alone anymore, Star," she said, her voice quivering slightly as she tried to offer reassurance. "Don't feel like you have to hide this side of you from—"
"You should go," he interrupted, his tone devoid of warmth. The sudden shift in his demeanor was like a splash of cold water, pulling Skye back from the intimate space they had shared.
Skye's eyes widened at the abruptness of his response, and she took a small, involuntary step back. The warmth and connection that had briefly existed between them now felt like a distant memory, replaced by the cold barrier Astarion had erected.
The rejection stung, but Skye's resolve remained. She nodded slowly, her expression a mix of hurt and understanding. "Alright," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll… I'll leave you to it."
As she turned to walk away, her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The vulnerability she had shown, and the fleeting moment of closeness they had shared, was now overshadowed by Astarion's defensive retreat. She could feel the weight of his words and the distance they had created between them.
The vampire spawn watched her leave, the cold facade he had adopted now masking the turmoil within. As the silence settled in the space where they had stood, he grappled with the emotions Skye's actions had stirred within him. Her attempt to connect had been genuine, and though he had pushed her away, he could not easily erase the impact of her words and the brief warmth of her touch.
Alone again, he looked at the broken shards of the mirror on the ground, their fragmented reflections a stark reminder of his own fractured self.
Amongst the Stars (Chapter 7: Hags and Ungrateful Damsels)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 7.8k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Tags/Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, hag encounter
Summary: Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Astarion, and Skye set off to save Mayrina. Meanwhile, Gale and Wyll help Misty with her spell casting.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
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Before they headed off to the hag's hideout, Skye urged Astarion to come clean about his vampirism. He cleared his throat awkwardly as the camp turned their heads toward him. "Well, I suppose there's no use in dancing around the issue," he began with a forced smile. "I am, in fact, a vampire spawn. Yes, yes, it's all very dramatic and gothic. I assure you, it's not as glamorous as it sounds." He spread his arms wide, as if presenting himself for inspection.
Faces furrowed in suspicion as hands hovered over weapons, yet Misty crossed her arms over her chest with a triumphant smirk. "So, you finally told everyone? Took you long enough!"
Astarion shot a glance at Skye. "You told your sister?" he muttered under his breath, his forced smile beginning to waver.
"She pretty much figured it out on her own, but she kept the secret, didn't she?" the air genasi whispered back. She then addressed the rest of the camp, holding her hands out in a calming gesture. "Everyone, relax. Astarion isn't a threat."
"A vampire among us?" Lae'zel mused, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms over her chest. The githyanki warrior's expression was hard and unyielding. "So be it. But should I wake with so much as a drop of blood on my neck, I will end him."
"Oh, and a quick word of warning, Astarion," Gale added, his tone laced with dark humor. "I taste absolutely awful. Keep your distance." He furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes at the vampire spawn.
"I knew it. He bit you that night, didn't he?" Shadowheart tightened her grip on her mace, her eyes dark with suspicion.
"Yes, but—" Skye began, only to be cut off.
"I'd better not wake up at night to the same fate," the cleric interrupted with a scowl.
The air genasi got into Shadowheart's personal space, her eyes blazing with determination. "Whether you like it or not, we need him," she said through bared teeth, her voice low and fierce.
Astarion blinked for a moment, shocked by how protective Skye was being. "She's not wrong," he added, regaining his composure. "We're bound together no matter what comes."
Gale folded his arms, his expression a mixture of concern and reluctant acceptance. "You say all the right words, but I'm not so sure you mean the right things. Still, I will respect the decision that was made."
The cleric, her eyes still locked in a heated stare with Skye, tried to lighten the tension with a dry remark. "Maybe we could get him to wear a bell—dissuade any nighttime prowling," she suggested, her voice laced with sarcasm.
Wyll sighed, shaking his head as he observed the intense exchange. "Hunting with vampires? Never thought I'd see the day," he muttered, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"That's enough!" Misty yelled, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife. Everyone quickly turned their gaze to her, eyes wide with surprise. "Astarion has done absolutely nothing wrong! Sure, maybe he's a little jerk at times, but he hasn't done anything to harm anyone!"
The rest of the camp exchanged cautious looks, their expressions a mix of skepticism and consideration, before turning their attention back to Misty. Shadowheart and Skye took a deep breath and stepped away from each other, the tension between them easing slightly. Astarion couldn't help the twitch of his lips at the young genasi's words, a hint of amusement breaking through his usual guarded demeanor.
"It's true," Skye confirmed, crossing her arms as she glanced at Astarion out of the corner of her eye. "He asked to feed on me. I gave him consent."
Astarion gave a small, appreciative nod towards Skye, the tension in his posture relaxing ever so slightly. Shadowheart's grip on her mace loosened, and Gale's furrowed brows smoothed out a bit, though a hint of wariness remained in their eyes. The camp seemed to collectively take a breath, the heated moment diffusing as they processed the new information.
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Not long after Astarion's confession, the vampire spawn, along with Skye, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel, prepared for their confrontation with the hag. As they readied themselves, Skye shared one last remorseful look with her sister, the weight of guilt heavy on her shoulders. She knew leaving her behind was the right decision—it was a way of protecting her. Besides, Gale and Wyll could teach her a lot.
Eventually, they reached the swamp, Skye and Astarion exchanging a determined glance before stepping in. With more light filtering through the clouds than the night before, they could see much more of their surroundings. Redcaps roamed around like sheep, causing the group to exchange uneasy glances. The closer they got to the hag's hut, the more disturbing their discoveries became. One such horror was the sight of Mayrina's brothers' lifeless bodies.
"The brothers? I guess they didn't find their sister," Skye murmured, kneeling beside one of the bodies to examine its gruesome form. Her golden eyes flickered up at Astarion, who stood beside her with crossed arms, tapping his foot impatiently.
Shadowheart knelt beside the other body, her expression darkening. "Whoever did this wanted them to suffer," she said quietly, sharing a concerned look with Skye. "We need to be careful."
Skye nodded in agreement, rising to her feet. She gestured for the others to follow as she continued to lead them deeper into the swamp.
The party trudged through the dense, murky swamp for another mile before finally reaching the hag's hut. Skye took a deep breath, steeling herself before pulling the doors open with a determined stride.
"I don't want a crumb left on that plate, girl!" a familiar, harsh voice resonated through the hut. Auntie Ethel stood with her back to the party, scolding a young woman.
The poor girl, clad in a green dress with red curls cascading to her shoulders, whimpered. "Auntie Ethel, please. One more bite and this pie is gonna come back up to say hello."
The elderly woman waggled a finger in front of the girl's face. "Don't make me get the wooden spoon. You're eating for two, so get to it!"
Skye crossed her arms over her chest and cleared her throat, her eyes narrowing at the scene. Auntie Ethel turned around to face her, furrowing her brows in irritation.
"Well, if it isn't the cheekiest pup of them all!" Auntie Ethel exclaimed with a wide, fake smile, her eyes gleaming with a twisted amusement. Her expression quickly darkened, the warm facade melting away. "You better have one hell of an apology for me, young lady."
Skye's gaze remained icy as she spat onto the floor with a defiant scowl. "You'll get no apology from me, hag."
"Hah! Oh, I do like the mouthy ones," Auntie Ethel retorted, her eyes flashing with malice. "You know, I was going to give you a swift kick up the arse and show you the door...but I think you and I could have a bit of fun together." A sardonic smile crept onto her face, her gaze never wavering from Skye.
Noticing that the woman was still not eating, Auntie Ethel's irritation flared. She whipped her head toward the girl, her voice sharp and commanding. "Gods, grant me patience... Eat up, Mayrina! I won't say it again!"
"That's Mayrina," Skye muttered to herself, her eyes narrowing further as she glared up at Ethel. The air genasi's expression was a mix of anger and concern, her fists clenched at her sides. "Do you treat all of your guests so poorly?"
The elderly woman slowly turned back around, her head tilting slightly as she regarded Skye with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Hm?" she said, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness. Her eyes narrowed as she pointed an accusatory finger at the air genasi. "Watch that tone, sweetie. You want to be in my good books—trust me." Auntie Ethel's expression softened momentarily, a sickly-sweet smile playing on her lips. "That wriggling thing swimming in your brain juice is a bit of an inconvenience, isn't it?"
Skye's lips curled into a low growl. "Don't change the subject. Why is that woman really here?"
Auntie Ethel's face darkened once more, her patience wearing thin. "I told you—the girl is none of your business. Keep that hole under your nose shut."
Astarion noticed Skye's hand slowly reaching for her quarterstaff, her fingers twitching with suppressed anger. Moving with practiced stealth, he approached her from behind, his presence sending a chill up her spine. He gently lowered her hand as he whispered, "Let's not make trouble for some stranger, darling. We have our own problems."
The air genasi sent him a sharp glare. "This is the whole reason we're here." She yanked her arm away from him and whipped her head back toward the elderly woman.
Auntie Ethel's gaze remained fixed on the unfolding drama. "I'll talk about your wriggler—and that's it. Last warning."
Golden eyes shifted back to Auntie Ethel, Skye's defiance clear in her posture. "No," she said firmly. "This woman is clearly in trouble." She could feel Astarion's eyes rolling behind her as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Ethel's eyes narrowed dangerously as she snapped her fingers, unleashing a flash of green light. In an instant, Mayrina vanished from her place at the table, leaving only the untouched pie in her wake. "You want to play the hero so badly? Fine. Let's make this interesting," Ethel's voice dripped with malice.
As she spoke, her bones audibly shifted and cracked, a green aura swirling around her. When the light subsided, Ethel had transformed into a grotesque hag with sharp, gnarled teeth and tattered clothes adorned with grim, decorative bones. Before Skye could react, the hag swiftly turned invisible, prompting a frustrated growl from the air genasi as she searched the room in vain.
"Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have an angry mob of redcaps headed toward the hut," Shadowheart warned, her voice tinged with urgency. She glanced out through the open door, her eyes scanning the murky, dim-lit swamp. The distant sound of shrill, discordant chatter grew louder, creating an unsettling backdrop to her words. The redcaps, with their wild, beady eyes and ragged, red-hued hats, were coming closer, their movements erratic and menacing.
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"I don't understand," Misty whined, her gaze dropping to her trembling hands. "I was able to cast it for Astarion a few days ago."
Gale and Wyll exchanged puzzled looks, their brows furrowed as they tried to make sense of her distress. The wizard approached Misty with a reassuring smile, his eyes warm and understanding. He knelt to her level. "You'll get there. Do you think I mastered the art of the weave within hours?"
Misty's eyes flickered to his, then back to her hands, which she clutched tightly. "Probably. With your knowledge," she grumbled. She let out a deep sigh and hugged herself, her shoulders slumping. "I don't understand why Skye tries so hard. I'm not good at magic. I don't want to learn it."
Wyll placed a gentle hand on Misty's shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. The contact prompted her to turn and face him, his concern evident in his soft, compassionate eyes. "Do you not want to learn it because you don't want to, or because you're struggling with it?"
Misty's mind wandered for a moment, her gaze distant as she contemplated his question. After a brief pause, she shrugged her shoulders, the uncertainty still evident in her eyes.
Gale, observing the exchange, tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I see where Wyll's coming from. Misty, casting magic involves connecting to the Weave. I understand druids might tap into it differently, but the principle remains the same for any spellcaster. You can't forge that connection if you don't at least try." His voice was calm, yet insistent, hoping to offer clarity and encouragement...but it didn't do much for her.
"But I do try!" the young genasi shouted in exasperation, her voice echoing in the quiet of their camp. "I'm good with a bow, that's it."
Wyll gave her a supportive smile. "But you could be good at more," he said, his tone encouraging as he rose to his feet. "Let's try again. We'll start small and work our way up. It's all about building confidence."
The wizard, still deep in thought, leaned closer to Misty, his brow furrowed. "Tell me, Misty. What do you use as a focus for your magic?" His voice was calm but curious, as if piecing together a puzzle.
Misty glanced down at the amulet hanging from her choker. It was a simple piece, its surface etched with the emblem of her circle: a design that had always been comforting but never felt particularly magical.
Gale observed her reaction, then nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps there's something else of greater significance to you that you can channel your magic through. Something that resonates more deeply with you." His eyes were gentle, encouraging her to think beyond the familiar.
The young genasi looked at the amulet with a contemplative frown. She then cast a thoughtful glance around the camp, her mind racing through memories and objects that might hold more personal meaning. Finally a thought came to her and she ran to her tent with a newfound determination.
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Out of the corner of her eye, Skye noticed the hag's illusion briefly flicker as she darted into the fireplace, revealing a hidden illusory wall behind it. A menacing smirk curled on the hag's lips as she waved her hand dismissively, then vanished behind the false barrier, leaving the party to fend off the encroaching redcaps. The creatures, though numerous, were mere pests and were swiftly dispatched by the group.
Lae'zel yanked her sword from the lifeless body of the last redcap, her muscles taut with exertion as the diminutive foe fell limply to the ground. The githyanki's eyes swept over the hut, ensuring no threats remained, before she sheathed her blade with a decisive motion.
Skye turned to her companions, her voice urgent. "The fireplace. There's an illusory wall behind it. I saw her go in there." Her eyes were sharp, filled with determination as she pointed toward the now calm hearth.
Astarion, his face a mask of frustration and concern, swiftly approached the air genasi. "Skye, this needs to stop!" he snapped, his voice edged with desperation. "If it wasn't already obvious, that hag is quite powerful. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not die at the hands of that wretched thing."
"We have to at least try. There are now two lives at stake, Astarion," Skye explained with pleading eyes. Her normally composed demeanor was wavering. "Do you know what happens when hags get their hands on children?" She took a deep breath.
Astarion's glare remained fixed, his eyes cold and unyielding. "They eat them to procreate new hags. When Mayrina gives birth, that hag's going to eat that child." Skye's voice trembled, her anger bubbling to the surface as she spoke, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
"And you think I care? You think any of us care?" Astarion snapped back, his tone harsh and dismissive, as if the situation were a mere inconvenience.
Skye's face flushed with a mix of fury and pain, her eyes welling with unshed tears before she forced herself to regain composure. She looked over at Lae'zel and Shadowheart, who stood silently, their expressions unreadable. The air genasi's gaze returned to Astarion, her eyes narrowing with steely resolve. "If you don't want to help, then leave."
The vampire spawn growled in frustration, his eyes blazing with anger. "What about the wisp? How do you think she would feel if we returned to camp without her sister?"
Golden eyes flashed with a fierce intensity. Skye stepped forward with a stormy expression, her body radiating a volatile energy as if she might erupt at any moment. "Don't you dare use that against me!" she snapped, her voice cracking with raw emotion. "You don't think I've considered that? This isn't just about Mayrina!" She gestured sharply toward the fireplace. "That hag knows about Misty's existence. If Mayrina for some reason can't give her what she wants, she'll come after Misty."
The two continued their intense staring contest, the air between them thick with tension. Skye's gaze remained locked on Astarion's for a moment longer before she abruptly turned and walked purposefully into the illusory wall, her form vanishing behind the deceptive barrier.
"Skye!" Shadowheart shouted, her voice echoing with concern as she hurried after her, vanishing into the illusory wall.
"Chk," Lae'zel spat, her face twisted in irritation. She gripped the handle of her sheathed sword tightly, the leather of her gloves creaking with the pressure. "These istiks are going to get us killed." Her boots pounded heavily against the floor as she stormed after the others, her impatience evident in every step.
Astarion rolled his eyes with a sigh of exasperation. He cast a final, long look at the scene behind him before reluctantly following, his movements graceful yet tinged with reluctance. The flicker of the illusory wall faded as he stepped through, joining the rest of the group in their pursuit.
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Misty emerged from her tent, holding the circlet in her hands with a sense of reverence. The circlet was crafted from fine, braided silver, its surface shimmering with a soft, ethereal iridescence that caught the light with every subtle movement. The band was adorned with small, intricately carved leaves and flowers, each meticulously detailed with delicate artistry. At its center was a single, polished sapphire, set in a subtle, claw-like prong setting. The sapphire gleamed with a deep, celestial blue, reminiscent of the night sky dotted with glistening stars.
With a hopeful smile, Misty presented the circlet to the two men. "Will this work?"
Gale examined the circlet thoughtfully, his eyes reflecting the sapphire's deep blue hue. "It might. What significance does it hold to you?" he asked, his voice curious and considerate.
The young genasi's gaze lingered on the circlet, her small smile growing warmer. "Skye gave this to me when I was younger. She told me it made me look like a princess." Her fingers lightly traced the intricate carvings. "I haven't worn it in some time, but it always reminds me of how much she cares about me... even though she can be bossy at times." Her voice softened, filled with both nostalgia and affection. The circlet was more than just an accessory; it was a tangible piece of Skye's love and support.
A small chuckle escaped Wyll's mouth, a warm and reassuring sound. "I'm sure her intentions are pure, Misty," he said, patting her gently on the back. He gestured for her to put the circlet on.
With a deep breath, Misty carefully placed it upon her brow. The metal felt cool and familiar against her skin, and she closed her eyes momentarily, recalling how it had always sat perfectly on her head, a symbol of her bond with her sister. The circlet seemed to fit as comfortably as it did when she was younger, its gentle weight grounding her in the present.
"Good," Gale said encouragingly, his voice warm with approval. "Now, take that connection you feel with Skye and merge it with the Weave." His eyes held a steady gaze, a beacon of support as he guided her through the process.
Wyll nodded in agreement and added, "We'll start with a cantrip. How about Thunderclap?" His tone was light, but his eyes were serious, focused on helping the air genasi succeed.
Misty nodded. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the feeling of connection between herself and the Weave. Taking a deep breath, she shouted the incantation for Thunderclap. But as the words left her lips, nothing happened. The air around her remained still, unresponsive. A frustrated grunt escaped her as she threw her hands up in exasperation. "It's useless!"
"Don't give up just yet, Misty," Gale encouraged, his voice gentle but firm. "Focus on that connection. Why don't we try Frostbite?" His eyes were filled with a blend of patience and optimism, hoping to guide her through the challenge.
Misty took another deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort to calm her racing thoughts. She extended her hands before her, palms open. She closed her eyes, reaching into her memory for her fondest moments with Skye. She remembered the early mornings when Skye patiently taught her how to use a bow, the crisp, cool air of dawn, and the way Skye's laughter had filled the space between them. She recalled the nights spent around the campfire, their voices mingling as they told scary stories that left them both shivering and giggling. And she thought of their morning ritual, the way Skye would sometimes braid her hair with intricate patterns that made Misty feel special.
As these cherished memories filled her mind, she shouted the incantation for Frostbite with renewed determination. A faint, icy sensation spread through her fingers, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a delicate layer of frost forming around her hands. The frost sparkled slightly, a tangible sign of her progress.
"It's starting to work," Gale mused, his tone carrying a note of encouragement as he watched the frost take shape.
"Wait," Wyll interjected, his voice carrying a tone of realization. "Misty, you're a druid. It might make more sense for you to focus on connecting with the nature surrounding you." He gestured toward the lush foliage and the vibrant life around them.
Misty's gaze shifted toward the greenery around her, a new sense of purpose dawning in her eyes. She took in the subtle rustling of leaves and the earthy scents that filled the air. With a renewed focus, she prepared to channel her magic through the natural world, hoping that this deeper connection might help her overcome the challenge.
She closed her eyes, tuning in to the gentle chorus of the birds, the soft rustling of leaves, and the soothing murmur of the stream that wove its way beside their camp. With a deep, steadying breath, she whispered the incantation. A shiver of cold danced across her fingertips, and when she opened her eyes, she gasped in amazement. The tree in front of her was now adorned with delicate frost and shimmering icicles.
Her joy erupted into a triumphant shout. "Wyll! Gale! Did you see that?! I did it!"
Wyll, who had been observing with a proud smile, knelt in front of her. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his eyes twinkling with approval. "I told you, you could. You can achieve anything you set your mind to. Sometimes, it just takes a bit of guidance."
Gale, equally pleased, nodded in agreement. "Well done, Misty. You've made significant progress. Remember, every success builds upon the last."
Misty's face lit up with a radiant smile as she absorbed their praise. The accomplishment filled her with renewed confidence, and she stood a little taller, feeling more connected to her magical abilities than ever before.
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The hag was taunting them at every turn. Her lair was a neverending nightmare, filled with creatures, or parts of creatures, that could conjure up terrors beyond imagination. The air was thick with the scent of decay and dark magic, and grotesque, misshapen figures lurked in every shadow. If Astarion had to walk through one more illusory wall or door, he was going to lose it. Each step forward was a test of endurance and sanity.
Then, they were attacked by what could only be referred to as 'masked victims'. Their faces hidden behind grotesque, emotionless masks, these unfortunate souls moved with a disturbing, jerky gait, as if they were fighting an internal battle. Their eyes, visible through the masks, were filled with a mix of fear and desperation. They hesitated and twitched, seemingly caught between the compulsion to attack and a deep-seated desire for help. Skye struggled to fight them, her heart heavy with the knowledge that these beings were innocent victims in need of salvation.
But the others did not hold back. Astarion moved with lethal efficiency, his blades slicing through the air with a precision born of centuries of practice. When he ended the last one's life, the air genasi gave him a look that made his stomach knot up.
"If it makes you feel any better, darling, I was doing them a favor," he said, his voice tinged with a rare hint of sincerity. "Trust me, I would've rather died than been a slave for Cazador." He watched as she hesitantly nodded, her gaze softening slightly before she turned to continue forward.
The path led them to a rushing waterfall, the sound of crashing water filling their ears. They had to jump through it to continue. On the other side, the air was colder and carried a faint, foul odor. Astarion's senses, honed to detect danger, picked up on the noxious fumes almost immediately. The smell was sharp and acrid, like rotting flesh mixed with sulfur.
He quickly found the trap expelling the fumes, a hidden vent cleverly disguised among the rocks. Picking up a loose stone beside him, he hurled it with deft precision into the vent. The rock struck true, blocking the source and cutting off the deadly gas.
Yet, Skye's mind was clearly occupied as she trudged forward, her thoughts elsewhere and her steps lacking their usual caution. Her expression was distant, brows furrowed in contemplation. Astarion, ever observant, noticed her distracted state and the subtle signs of danger that she was oblivious to. As her leg brushed past a peculiar flower that began to bloom at an unnaturally rapid pace, his instincts kicked in.
"Careful, darling," he warned, his voice urgent. Moving swiftly, he grabbed her by the waist and threw them both to the ground. The flower exploded in a burst of flame, the heat searing the air above them. Astarion released a sigh of relief as the danger passed.
He looked down at Skye, who lay beneath him, her wide eyes staring up at him with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. "What? Don't look at me like that," he muttered, his tone half exasperated, half teasing. "I'm still mad that you dragged me into this mess." He stood up and held out a hand to her, his grip firm and steady as he pulled her to her feet.
"Thank you," Skye murmured, her voice soft. Her eyes shifted to the ground, guilt evident in her expression. "I didn't even see those."
The vampire spawn cleared his throat awkwardly, his usual confidence momentarily faltering. "Just be more careful," he said gruffly, turning away from her. He began to move forward, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any more hidden threats.
They descended further into Ethel's lair. The walls were damp and covered in moss, and the flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows that danced with malevolent intent. Every step echoed ominously, and the oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on the group.
Skye's ears perked up as she heard the faint sound of screaming, a desperate, anguished cry that cut through the silence. Her heart pounded as she rushed toward the sound, her companions' pleas to wait falling on deaf ears. Determination fueled her steps, her mind singularly focused on reaching the source of the distress.
When she finally reached the bottom, the scene that met her eyes was harrowing. The cavern was vast and dimly lit, with jagged stalactites hanging from the ceiling like the fangs of a giant beast. In the center of the cavern, Mayrina dangled helplessly in a cage suspended high above the ground, her face pale and streaked with tears. The young woman's red curls hung limply around her face, and she clutched the bars of her prison with white-knuckled desperation.
Ethel stepped out from the shadows, her form twisted and grotesque. Her sinister smirk revealed yellowed, sharp teeth, and her eyes gleamed with malice. "You come to my home, interfere in my business, and now have the gall to face me in the heart of my lair? You petulant bullocks," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.
The others finally caught up to Skye, their expressions a mix of concern and readiness for battle. Ethel continued with a scowl, her voice growing more menacing with each word. "I'll rip your spine out your arsehole. I'll use your blood to spice my stew." Her sinister smile returned, even more chilling than before. "I'll keep you alive until I've sucked the marrow from your bones."
Skye's grip tightened on her quarterstaff, her knuckles white with the intensity of her anger. Her lips curled into a snarl, her golden eyes blazing with defiance.
"And then I'll bring you back and do it all over again," Ethel concluded, her voice dripping with malice and cruelty.
"Just get out of here! Please!" Mayrina's desperate plea echoed from her cage, her voice raw with fear and hopelessness.
Skye's eyes flickered to the young woman, her heart breaking at the sight of her terror. She then met Ethel's gaze once more, her resolve hardening like steel.
"You want the girl so bad? Fine," Ethel muttered, a sinister smile playing on her lips. From her pouch, she pulled out an orange ball of slime, its surface pulsating with dark energy. With a wicked grin, she tossed it at the cage. The ball exploded on impact, bursting into flames that quickly engulfed the metal bars. "Have her roasted!"
The flames roared to life, their heat palpable even from a distance. Mayrina screamed in terror, her cage becoming an inferno. Ethel's cackle echoed through the cavern, a symphony of cruelty. She raised her hands, and with a wave, created duplicates of herself that filled the room. Each one bore the same twisted smile, their eyes gleaming with malice.
Astarion drew his daggers, his eyes darting between the hags. "Which one is the real one?" he muttered, frustration evident in his voice.
"Only one way to find out," Shadowheart groaned. She held out her mace, its dark metal glinting ominously, and charged after one of the hags. Her steps were firm and resolute, each strike of her mace imbued with divine fury. Lae'zel followed suit, her warrior cry echoing through the cavern as she swung her sword with lethal precision.
"Hang on, Mayrina!" Skye shouted, her voice carrying over the crackling flames and the clamor of battle. Her mind raced, desperate to think of a way to put out the inferno threatening Mayrina's life.
Astarion, locked in combat with one of the duplicates, could see her struggle. "Skye, time's running out! If you're gonna do something, do it now! Don't make this trip for nothing. You dragged us here to save her, so do it!" he shouted, his voice laced with urgency and frustration. His daggers flashed in the dim light as he fended off the hag, each move a dance of deadly precision.
Skye glanced over, her eyes filled with desperation. "If I use wind, it'll cause the flames to grow faster," she shouted back, her mind racing for a solution.
"Then use water!" Astarion grunted, driving his dagger into the hag and watching as her form dissipated into thin air.
Skye's gaze snapped back to the flaming cage, her mind racing with memories. She recalled the night they had gone swimming, where she had shown Astarion how she could manipulate both water and air. His words echoed in her mind, reminding her of her capabilities. With newfound resolve, she looked down into the cavern, searching for a source of water.
The cavern floor was dotted with small pools and trickling streams. Skye extended her hands, concentrating on the flow of water. With a determined gesture, she pulled the water up from the depths, guiding it toward the burning cage. The streams converged into a powerful torrent that doused the flames with a hiss and a cloud of steam, leaving the cage smoking but intact.
Her relief was short-lived, however, as she felt a sharp scratch on her back. She spun around to see one of the hags lunging at her, her claws extended. Skye dodged the attack, her heart racing as she dropped her staff to the ground. She extended her arms to the sides, her focus shifting to her innate magical powers.
Her eyes began to glow with an intense, otherworldly light. Her joints lit up like stars, and a shimmering constellation of a dragon materialized on her forehead. The dragon's scales seemed to ripple with energy as she channeled her power. Skye shouted an incantation, her voice filled with raw magic and determination. A beam of silver light apparated above the hag.
She let out a guttural scream, her body writhing in pain as the silver light seared through her. She grit her teeth, her eyes narrowing, but she did not disappear. Instead, the light forced her to stagger back, revealing her true form among the illusions.
"I found the real one!" Skye shouted, her voice echoing through the cavern with both triumph and exhaustion.
"Keep your wits about you! They might be illusions, but their attacks are real!" Shadowheart's voice was strained with urgency as she struggled against the paralyzing magic of one of the hag's duplicates. The spell immobilized her, and she could only watch helplessly as the illusory figure grinned wickedly. Every fiber of her being was focused on breaking free, but the magical restraints were unyielding.
Lae'zel, her face a mask of grim determination, charged forward with her sword gleaming in the dim light of the cavern. She leaped into the fray, her blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. The edge of her sword met the duplicate, and with a burst of shimmering light, the illusory figure dissipated into nothingness. The spell's hold on Shadowheart was broken instantly, and she collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud.
The gith barely glanced back, her focus firmly on the combat. She swung her sword again, cutting through another duplicate that had tried to sneak up behind her. The creature flickered and vanished in a burst of glittering fragments.
Meanwhile, Astarion, moving with the grace of a predator, darted between the duplicates. His daggers flashed as he deftly dispatched one illusion after another. His eyes were sharp, calculating, and he moved with a practiced ease that belied the urgency of the situation.
The echoes of battle gradually faded as the last of the hag's duplicates vanished, leaving a stunned silence in the cavern.
Skye, her eyes scanning the battlefield, quickly realized that the real hag was left standing alone. Her once-menacing demeanor was now replaced with sheer terror, looking around frantically. Her tattered clothes were singed and her eyes wide with fear, reflecting the dim light of the cavern in their frightened depths.
She could see the desperation in Ethel's eyes as she cowered, trying to shield herself from the inevitable. The air genasi's face was a mask of determination and anger, her features illuminated by the soft glow of her druidic magic.
Without hesitation, Skye moved with a purposeful stride. Her staff, which had been a source of guidance and strength, was now an instrument of finality. Her footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor as she approached the trembling hag.
The hag attempted to raise her hands, perhaps in a futile attempt to cast one last spell or beg for mercy. But Skye's eyes were unyielding. The air genasi drew upon the remaining power of her connection to nature, focusing it through her staff. Her hands glowed with a radiant energy, her magic channeling through the intricate symbols and patterns carved into the staff.
With a swift, determined motion, Skye raised her staff high. A brilliant burst of light erupted from the tip, cascading through the cavern like a beam of righteous fury. The magic surged towards the hag, overwhelming her defenses and piercing through her dark, malevolent aura.
Ethel's scream of pain and terror was swallowed by the roar of the magical onslaught. The hag's form flickered and twisted, her malevolent grin replaced by a contorted expression of agony. As the spell's power reached its peak, the hag's body disintegrated into a cloud of dark, curling smoke that was quickly absorbed by the ambient magic of the cavern.
Skye stood over the spot where Ethel had once been, her breath coming in deep, steadying gasps. The cavern was still, the oppressive air now lighter with the hag's malevolent presence gone.
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"She was so ungrateful! See, this is exactly why I don't help others," Astarion grumbled from behind the three women.
Lae'zel rolled her eyes. She turned her attention to Skye, who was brushing off the grime of their recent ordeal. "Skye, it is imperative that we make our way to the creche immediately."
Skye, her face streaked with sweat and ash from their battles, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She glanced at Lae'zel, her expression tired but resolute. "I thought we agreed that rescuing Halsin and seeking his guidance would come first."
"But my people possess the cure for this infection," Lae'zel insisted, her voice unwavering. "We now know where the creche is located. This information is critical."
Shadowheart, who had been listening intently, narrowed her eyes at the githyanki. "For all we know, your people might kill us on sight. Trust isn't exactly flowing freely in this situation."
The gith met her gaze with a steely look, her tone firm but reassuring. "Not if you're with me. My presence will ensure your safety. The creche is our best chance to secure the cure, and time is of the essence."
Skye caught Shadowheart's gaze as Lae'zel walked ahead, noting the weariness and concern etched into her features. She exhaled deeply, her shoulders slumping slightly as she considered the weight of her decision. "Listen, Shadowheart," she began, her voice steady but laced with emotion, "I have to prioritize what's best for Misty. Halsin is a First Druid. If he's managed to survive this long, I'm sure he can hold out a few more days. But if Lae'zel is right and her people have a cure, we need to explore that option."
The cleric's eyes flashed with frustration, her brows knitting together as she struggled with the decision. Her usually composed demeanor was replaced by a mixture of irritation and anxiety. "Fine," she spat out, her tone sharp and clipped. "But don't think this is over. If we find out that this path leads us into danger or treachery, you and Lae'zel will have to answer for it."
Skye nodded, feeling a pang of guilt but remaining resolute. "I understand. We'll proceed with caution."
Shadowheart's expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained. She didn't offer further comment as she turned, her footsteps heavy as she followed Lae'zel's lead. Her silence spoke volumes, and Skye could sense the internal struggle that she was grappling with.
After overhearing the tense conversation, Astarion silently crept up beside Skye, matching her pace with a calculated grace. The soft crunch of the forest floor beneath his feet was the only sound that accompanied his approach. Skye, caught off guard by his sudden presence, turned her head slightly.
"You done grumbling back there?" she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm, though there was a hint of curiosity in her voice.
The vampire spawn's lips curled into a teasing smile, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I was just thinking about you. And that delicious moment we shared the other night," he purred, his voice smooth and velvety.
Skye's eyes widened in mock surprise, her lips twitching upward despite herself. She stopped abruptly, planting her feet firmly on the ground, and spun around to face him. Her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to maintain her composure. "The moment when you bit me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The very same," Astarion replied, his voice dropping to a softer, almost wistful tone. For a moment, his usual air of confident bravado faltered, revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "I've had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first."
Skye was taken aback by his sincerity, her eyes softening. A genuine smile spread across her face, a warmth spreading through her chest at the unexpected revelation. It was a rare moment of honesty from Astarion, and it brought a refreshing change from his usual flirtatious demeanor.
As they resumed walking side by side, Astarion continued, his tone reflective. "In all these years, I've only ever fed on beasts. Drinking the blood of thinking creatures is a different thing entirely. It's... more intimate, more personal."
A soft chuckle escaped Skye's lips, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, really? How so?"
Astarion glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. "When you drink from a beast, it's merely a matter of sustenance. There's no connection, no real exchange. But with you... it's different. There's a bond, a shared experience. It's more than just physical—it's an exchange of essence, if you will."
Skye's smile grew wider as she listened, the playful glint in her eyes contrasting with the depth of his words. "And here I thought you were just a charming rogue with a penchant for dramatic flair," she teased.
The vampire spawn chuckled softly, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "Well, perhaps I am that as well. But even rogues have their moments of depth." He glanced at her, the flirtatious smirk returning. "And as delectable as you were, I can't help but wonder how the others taste?"
"You're looking at other necks?" she teased, a playful glint in her eye. "I'm truly heartbroken."
Astarion smirked, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "Oh, don't worry, darling. There's more than enough of me to go around. I'm a man of tremendous appetites," he purred, his tone dripping with mischief. Skye's laughter was a melodious sound, her eyes dancing with amusement. "I don't think they'd volunteer, of course, but that doesn't make me any less curious."
As the camp came into view, they paused, their conversation blending seamlessly with the soft sounds of the forest. Astarion turned to face Skye, his expression thoughtful and slightly wistful. "Take Gale, for example. He strikes me as someone whose blood is rich and refined, like a well-aged brandy. But the gith?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice trailing off as he considered the enigma before him. "What in the hells would she taste like?"
Skye chuckled softly, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "Hmm, perhaps something exotic," she mused, tapping her chin in mock contemplation. "An Amnan liqueur? Spicy, with a hint of something mysterious and otherworldly."
"Ooh, that does sound very appealing. I'm almost convinced." Astarion's eyes glittered with genuine fascination, a mischievous smile curling at the corners of his lips.
The air genasi's eyebrow arched, her expression turning inquisitive. "Could I convince you to kill someone less useful?"
Astarion chuckled softly, the sound low and smooth. "Oh, no one's getting killed, I swear. We're just two friends having an intriguing conversation," he said with a playful shrug.
Skye tilted her head, a wry smile playing on her lips. "This is a very weird conversation for two friends to be having."
"Well, you are conversing with a vampire. It's only natural that our discussions veer into the unconventional." Astarion raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.
The air genasi laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "True. I suppose I should expect nothing less."
"So— in the spirit of theoretical questions—if you had to take a bite from one of them, who would it be?" His tone was light but with an unmistakable glint of curiosity in his eyes.
The air genasi let out an amused scoff. "Are you really asking me which one of our companions I'd eat?"
Astarion feigned a look of mock horror, placing a hand over his heart. "Oh, no. Don't be disgusting. I simply mean a sip of their blood. No mastication required." He emphasized the last part with a dramatic flourish, his grin widening.
Skye raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Well, in that case," she mused, her tone light and teasing, "it seems only fair that if you've taken some of my blood, I should get to taste yours in return."
"Oh, I'm flattered. Who knew you had such refined taste?"
Skye chuckled, shaking her head. "Don't get too excited. I doubt I'd enjoy the taste of your blood as much as you might like mine."
"Unfortunately," Astarion sighed dramatically, "all this talk is making me hungry. I'd better find something I can actually sink my teeth into."
The air genasi shared a soft smile with him as he turned back the way they came. Her gaze lingered on him. "Good hunting," she called out, her voice gentle and encouraging.
Astarion paused for a moment, his dark eyes meeting hers with a playful glint. He tilted his head slightly, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "There's nothing that tasty lurking in the woods, but I'll make do."
He took a step back, his gaze lingering on her for a brief moment before he turned away. "Sweet dreams," he added, his voice carrying a hint of genuine affection beneath the playful surface.
With a final, fleeting smile, Astarion disappeared into the shadows of the forest, his graceful movements melding seamlessly with the darkened woods. The sound of his footsteps grew faint as he ventured deeper into the wilderness in search of his quarry.
Amongst the Stars (Chapter 6: Panther of the Night)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 3.6k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Tags/Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, Gur encounter, Astarion's past
Summary: Astarion's hunt is interrupted when the little wisp of his nice, simple plan wanders off on her own at night.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
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The gravel of the path shifted under Misty's feet as she shuffled toward the hag's lair. She couldn't believe her sister. They had argued again as the younger air genasi was put to bed. Instead of just staying at camp, Skye insisted that Gale and Wyll would stay behind as well to teach her magic. Misty didn't want to be a druid; she didn't want to learn magic. She was bad at it. She just wanted to use her bow in battle. That was where her strengths lay, where she belonged. But Skye was insistent. Her words were final as she stormed out of the tent. However, the younger genasi was determined to prove her worth. She would confront the hag herself and save Mayrina alone.
Before crossing a broken bridge over a small stream, Misty blinked. Within moments, the beautiful scenery around her faded, turning into a disgusting swamp. A chill ran down her spine. The young genasi took a deep breath and continued down the path, unaware of a pair of crimson eyes watching her.
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All Astarion wanted was a peaceful meal, perhaps a boar crossing his path. But, as always, something interrupted him. This time, it was the younger sister of his nice, simple plan. Their little rambunctious group would be his death. Maybe trying to get Skye's protection wasn't the smartest idea after all. Yet, it was the only plan he had, so he followed the little wisp.
"Oh, no, no, no. You stupid girl," Astarion muttered, peering from behind a tree as he watched the young girl enter the swamp. As soon as he knew she wouldn't see him, he emerged from hiding and followed her silently.
Her eyes found a single flickering light above a hill. She tilted her head in curiosity and approached it. Astarion facepalmed and continued to follow. Then he smelled that familiar, pungent scent. Gur. His lips curled into a snarl as he moved closer.
"Forgive the aroma, little one," a man said as Misty plugged her nose.
Astarion studied him over. He was definitely Gur. He'd recognize those rugged looks anywhere. They were the reason he was beaten to death's door after all. The reason he'd stupidly accepted Cazador's offer to 'help'.
"Powdered iron-vine. Most monsters will think twice before making a meal out of me," the man announced proudly. He knelt to the girl's level. "Where are your parents?"
"Dead to me," Misty spat, crossing her arms in front of her. The man's eyes widened in shock at her words but didn't press further.
"That's quite the statement for someone so young," the man finally said, trying to mask his surprise with a thin smile. "But you're out here all alone? It's dangerous." All Misty could do was glare daggers at him.
"You smell of fey blood. Have you met the hag?" he tried changing the subject, obviously caught off guard by Misty's unsettling maturity.
She continued to glare at him. "Yeah. I'm here to kill her."
The man's eyebrows shot up. "Perhaps that isn't the wisest idea." He offered her an encouraging smile as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're determined, I'll give you that one."
Astarion, watching from the shadows, rolled his eyes. He knew the type. The Gur were always quick with their wisdom and quicker to judge. Yet, there was something unsettling about this man. Something that set his instincts on edge.
Misty squinted a bit as she assessed him. "What are you doing near her hut?"
"I'm hoping to seek her assistance in my hunt," the man replied, his eyes darting towards the dense shadows of the swamp.
"You're a monster hunter?" The young girl cocked her head curiously, her gaze sharpening. "What monsters are you hunting?"
Before the man could respond, Astarion's stealthy approach was betrayed by the snap of a twig beneath his foot. The man's instincts kicked in immediately. With a swift motion, he pulled Misty behind him, his protective stance unwavering. His other hand drew a crossbow, aiming it directly at Astarion.
"This one here," the man said firmly, his eyes narrowing with determination. "I need to capture him. Now, stay behind me."
Misty's eyes widened as she peered around the man's arm, catching sight of Astarion emerging from the shadows. "What?" She tried to tug her arm away, but the man's grip was ironclad. "Let go of me! He's a friend, not a monster!"
"Let the girl go, Gur," Astarion snarled from the edge of the hill, his voice a cold, dangerous whisper. His instincts urged him to kill the man, to end the threat immediately, but his gaze shifted to Misty. What would happen to her if he acted rashly? He didn't trust him. He didn't believe his intentions were pure. He might as well hold a dagger to her throat if Astarion so much as moved too quickly.
"You're mad if you think I'd let another child be taken by your kind," the man retorted, his face set in grim determination. As he spoke, he began an incantation, his hand moving in intricate patterns as he infused the crossbow bolt with searing flames. With a practiced flick, he pulled the trigger.
The bolt arced through the air, its fiery tail streaking toward Astarion. With lightning reflexes, the vampire spawn leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding the blazing projectile. He watched through the flames as the man maneuvered Misty away from him.
"Run, get out of here," the man whispered urgently to her, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire. The intensity in his eyes made it clear that he meant every word. But Misty didn't listen.
Astarion's lip curled in frustration as he watched the man attempt to guide Misty away. He knew he had to act quickly. With a fluid motion, he unsheathed his daggers, their blades catching the firelight with a menacing gleam. Ignoring the intense heat that licked at his skin, he leaped through the flames, his focus unshaken.
He landed gracefully on the other side of the fire, his eyes locked on the Gur, who had spun around to face him once more.
"He's not bad! Leave him alone!" Misty shouted desperately, her voice cutting through the chaos.
But before the man could respond, he fired another bolt from his crossbow. This time, the projectile didn't seek Astarion directly. Instead, it plunged into the ground at his feet. From the bolt, thorny vines erupted with alarming speed. They coiled and twisted, their barbed tendrils snaking around Astarion's limbs.
Astarion's eyes widened in surprise as the vines ensnared him, their grip tightening with each movement. He struggled to free himself, his daggers clattering to the ground as the vines pressed down with relentless force. The more he fought, the more the vines seemed to constrict, their strength growing with his resistance.
Fearing for her companion's life, Misty drew an arrow back, her hands trembling slightly as she aimed at the Gur. With a swift release, the arrow flew through the air and struck the man in the back with a sharp thud. He groaned in pain, the impact causing him to stagger slightly.
Misty's eyes blazed with defiance as she notched another arrow, her voice a fierce growl. "I said, leave him alone," she demanded through gritted teeth, her stance resolute.
The Gur raised his hands in a defensive gesture, another groan escaping him as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Listen to me, little one. I don't know who you think this man is, but he is dangerous."
"You attacked him!" Misty shouted back. Her grip on the bowstring began to loosen slightly.
The man, seemingly undeterred by her resistance, suddenly whistled a sharp, commanding note. The sound echoed through the swamp, and moments later, a large boar burst through the underbrush, its eyes gleaming with aggression. The Gur pointed at Misty, and the boar charged toward her, its tusks gleaming dangerously.
"Bastard!" Astarion shouted from the vines. He continued to struggle against the magical bindings, the vines continuing to constrict with every futile effort.
The boar barreled into Misty, its bulk and strength forcing her to stumble backward. She fought to maintain her balance, her bow slipping from her grip as the beast's powerful hooves and tusks pressed her against the swamp's muddy ground. Her vision blurred with the struggle, but she managed to raise her head just enough to see the Gur's grim expression.
"Stop!" she cried out, her voice cracking with desperation. "He's not what you think!"
"He has charmed you. Please forgive me, but I have orders," the Gur said as he approached Astarion slowly. His movements were deliberate, his gaze fixed on the vampire spawn bound by the thorny vines.
The air was thick with tension as the Gur inched closer, his crossbow still clutched in one hand, now aimed cautiously at Astarion. He was almost within reach of him when a low, menacing growl cut through the oppressive silence. The Gur's head snapped around, his eyes widening in surprise. From the shadows of the swamp emerged a large panther with fur as soft and deep as the night sky, flecked with sapphire highlights that shimmered in the dim light. The beast's eyes glowed with a predatory intensity, its powerful muscles rippling under its sleek coat.
The panther leaped with a ferocious grace, its claws extended and its fangs bared. The Gur barely had time to react before the panther's impact sent him crashing to the ground. He grunted in pain and surprise as the panther's weight and force knocked him off balance, pinning him beneath its massive form.
The panther's growl was a low, throaty rumble as it pressed its full weight against him, its sharp claws digging into his shoulders and its hot breath fanning across his face. His crossbow clattered to the ground as he struggled to push the panther away.
The boar finally released its grip on Misty and staggered back, its defensive posture shifting as it sensed the danger to its companion. This crucial distraction allowed Misty to regain her footing. Her hands, still trembling from the struggle, quickly found her bow. She notched two arrows and drew back the string. She aimed carefully, her breath steadying as she released the arrows. They struck the boar, piercing its thick hide and sending it crashing to the ground in a lifeless heap.
The magical vines around Astarion began to slacken. He seized the opportunity to break free, his limbs moving with a fluid grace as he extricated himself from the thorny binds. As he stood up, his gaze was locked on the chaotic scene unfolding before him.
The panther, its sapphire fur gleaming ominously in the flickering light, had pounced on the Gur with a ferocity that left Astarion both horrified and mesmerized. The Gur's desperate cries were drowned out by the panther's relentless assault. The beast's powerful jaws and claws were a blur of motion as it tore through the man with terrifying efficiency.
Astarion's attention shifted to Misty, who was making her way toward the panther. "Wisp, stay back. We don't know if it will attack us," he cautioned, his voice laced with urgency as he bent down to retrieve his daggers from the ground. The panther's golden eyes met his with an intense gaze that stirred something deep within him. There was an inexplicable familiarity to those eyes.
Ignoring Astarion's warning, Misty closed the distance between herself and the panther. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her hands reaching out to the fierce creature. "We're safe," she reassured, her touch gentle against the beast's sleek fur.
Astarion's confusion deepened as he watched the scene unfold. His grip on his daggers tightened, his brows furrowing as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The panther's form shimmered, and in an astonishing transformation, Misty's sister emerged from the beast's body. She was on all fours, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she shifted back to her natural form.
The transformation left Skye visibly shaken. She looked down at the eviscerated body of the Gur, her face contorted in horror. Her eyes darted around, taking in the brutal aftermath of the battle. Her face twisted with a mixture of greenish nausea and a flush of anger as she whirled around to confront Misty. "What did I tell you?" she demanded, her voice tight with frustration.
Astarion, having sheathed his daggers, observed the tense exchange with a detached curiosity. He leaned against a nearby tree, his expression inscrutable, as he watched the siblings' emotional confrontation unfold.
"You could've gotten yourself or Astarion killed! Do you have any idea how reckless you were? You're lucky I can tell when you're up to something." Her voice cracked slightly under the strain of her worry and irritation. "Don't you ever go off on your own again!"
Misty's expression was defiant, her jaw set stubbornly as she glared back at her older sister. "I was handling myself just fine!" she retorted. "I didn't need anyone to come and save me."
Skye's frustration reached a boiling point. "You were pinned by a boar and Astarion was tangled in a web of vines!" Her voice rose with each word, emphasizing the danger of the situation. "It wasn't exactly 'handling yourself.' You were in serious trouble!"
Misty's face reddened in embarrassment. She crossed her arms, her stance defensive. "I killed the boar," she muttered under her breath.
Skye's gesture was decisive, her arm outstretched toward the winding path that led back to camp. "We're leaving. Now," she said, her voice brooking no argument. The authority in her tone was unmistakable, carrying a weight that made it clear that any further discussion was futile.
The wisp shot her sister one last, fiery glare, her frustration still evident in the set of her jaw and the fire in her eyes. But the stubborn defiance gradually gave way to resignation. With a deep, frustrated sigh, she slouched her shoulders and began trudging down the path.
Astarion and Skye followed from a distance in silence, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth beneath them. The soft rustle of the forest and the occasional croak of swamp creatures created a backdrop to their quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting faint patterns on the path ahead.
After a few moments, Astarion broke the silence. "I must say, that was incredible, darling. I was very impressed. I'm surprised you don't do that more often." His playful smirk was genuine, but it faltered as he noticed Skye's vacant stare, her eyes fixed ahead with a distant, unseeing gaze.
The vampire spawn's expression shifted to one of concern as he observed her reaction. "Are you alright?"
Skye's response was almost inaudible, her words barely carrying over the soft sounds of the night. "I hate it," she muttered.
"You hate what?" He pressed gently.
The air genasi's shoulders seemed to sag slightly as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Transforming," she admitted, her eyes still fixed on some distant point. "I feel like I lose control. I become something I'm not. Instinct takes over all sense of logic. I become a monster."
Astarion's eyes widened slightly, his usual playful demeanor giving way to an awkward, sincere empathy. He wasn't accustomed to dealing with such personal revelations, especially those that stirred emotions he preferred to keep at arm's length. "I see," he said, struggling to find the right words. "I didn't realize it was so… unsettling for you."
Skye's face remained a mask of contemplation, her gaze still fixed on the dimly lit path. "It's terrifying. When I'm in that form, I feel like I lose myself. I'm not just me anymore. I'm something wild, something untamed."
"I suppose that makes sense. Losing control…" He paused, looking for something to say.
Skye's lips tightened into a thin line as she shook her head slightly. "It's not just about control in the moment. It's about what I become. It's about the fear of what I might do when I'm not myself." She ran her hands over her face. "Did you see what I did to that man? That's what I do when I'm in that form, Astarion. What if I did that to Misty? What if I did that to you?"
"Well, I mean he did deserve it," Astarion tried once more to inject some levity into the conversation. However, his attempt at humor was met with a cold, piercing stare from Skye. The playful smirk he wore faltered, and he rubbed his neck awkwardly as they continued their walk.
A few moments later, a loud sigh escaped from Skye, her frustration evident. "What did that man want to capture you for, anyway? What did you do to warrant such a response?"
Astarion's defensiveness was palpable as he exhaled heavily. "I didn't do anything," he said, his tone sharper than intended. "I was kidnapped, just like you were. It seems Cazador wants me back."
The mention of Cazador made Skye come to an abrupt halt. She turned to face him fully, her gaze locking onto his crimson eyes with a serious intensity. "You're sure he's behind this?"
"It was him. I'm sure of it," Astarion said with a note of conviction, his brows furrowing deeply as he spoke. "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."
Skye shook her head slowly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Saved you? By making you his slave? That's hardly the sort of 'rescue' anyone should aspire to."
Astarion shifted his weight, placing a hand on his hip and leaning slightly to the side. "Well, he didn't mention the slave clause at the time."
The air genasi cocked her head to the side. She released another heavy sigh, her eyes reflecting the strain of trying to make sense of the unfolding situation.
"And now he sends a Gur monster hunter after me," Astarion said aloud, his voice tinged with a weary resignation. He met Skye's concerned gaze, the weight of his words settling heavily between them. "It's a message. Cazador is reminding me of his power. Even in the middle of nowhere, he can reach me. He wants me back, and he's showing just how far his influence extends."
Skye's hands moved to her temples as she tried to piece together the fragments of information. Her brows knitted together in deep concentration. "But why capture you? Why not just kill you outright? If he has the means to send a Gur monster hunter, he certainly has the means to ensure your death."
The vampire spawn hummed thoughtfully, the sound reflecting his deep contemplation. "Maybe he's trying to make an example of me," he mused. "Perhaps he wants to show what happens to those who try to escape his grasp. Or maybe—just maybe—he thinks that death is too good for me."
"He won't get you. You'll never be a slave again. We'll keep you safe—"
Astarion's bitter laugh cut her off abruptly, a harsh sound that contrasted sharply with her hopeful tone. His face darkened, his eyes reflecting a deep, unsettling gravity. "Safe? You think you can keep me safe? Do you have any idea of the power a vampire lord possesses?"
Skye blinked, taken aback by his sudden shift in tone. Her gaze fell to the ground.
"He can change shape, turn into mist; he can summon wolves to do his bidding; shrug off blows like they're nothing. Cazador could walk into this camp tonight and kill you with his bare hands, and you'd be lucky if death were the worst thing that happened to you."
"Okay, so what can we do?" Skye asked, hugging herself tightly as a gust of wind swept through the clearing, chilling her to the bone.
Astarion glanced around, his eyes searching for any semblance of a plan amidst the growing sense of urgency. "First, we have to—uh…" He trailed off, meeting Skye's unwavering gaze. The intensity in her eyes seemed to demand a concrete answer, and he struggled to formulate one. "I don't know. If we kill his lackeys, he'll just send more. We just have to be vigilant. Keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunters in sight."
Skye nodded with a sigh. "Well, if I can't keep you safe, then I'll die trying." With her words, she turned sharply on her heel, making her way toward the camp with a determined stride.
The sudden shift in her demeanor left Astarion momentarily speechless, his mind racing to catch up with the gravity of her words. He watched as she moved away, her silhouette merging with the darkness as she rejoined her sister.
Astarion stood alone for a moment, the night's chill now cutting through him more sharply than before. The campfire's flickering light beckoned, but the shadows of doubt and danger loomed larger in his mind. Skye's fierce declaration resonated with him. Her willingness to risk everything for his safety was both humbling and disquieting.
Taking a deep breath, the vampire spawn forced himself to focus. With a final glance toward the darkened forest, he turned and followed Skye and Misty back to the camp.
Rating: Mature
Word count: 2.7k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Tags/Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, Necromancy of Thay, fluff
Summary: Astarion and Skye discuss what they should do with the Necromancy of Thay. The sisters get into an argument.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
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Skye was confused over a man of all things. She was next in line to lead her circle. Men shouldn't have had this big of an impact on her. Surely, she was just tired, right?
In all honesty, it wasn't until they ran into a matriarch spider that the exhaustion finally set in. At some point, she was bitten by the giant arachnid and began to see three of everything. She was poisoned and didn't have an antidote. So, she dealt with it like she dealt with everything: she shrugged it off. Or at least, attempted to.
The air genasi heard a voice behind her, desperate and loud. Gods, the voice was loud. Her ears were ringing. Blood was soaking through her light armor. She turned her head to the source of the voice, causing her vision to go entirely black. She felt someone drag her over to safety and felt a bitter liquid pour down her throat. When she opened her golden eyes once more, she saw Shadowheart analyzing her.
"Good to see you're back to your old self. We need you." The half-elf stood up and extended her hand toward Skye. The air genasi took it, allowing Shadowheart to pull her to her feet. "As much as I hate to say it, you should thank Astarion. I had no clue you were bitten until he shouted for help," the cleric explained as they ran back toward the fight.
That was where the confusion set in. Sure, he saved Misty several times but not when his life was in jeopardy. It was her fault for getting bitten. She glanced behind her for a moment to make sure her companions weren't struggling and noticed Astarion was surrounded by baby spiders. Although they didn't cause much harm by themselves, getting swarmed by them was dangerous and Astarion knew this, yet once he saw her face grow pale, he stopped what he was doing to shout for help.
Once they joined their two other companions, Skye was ripped from her thoughts as Astarion was lying on the ground unconscious, still getting attacked by the baby spiders. A loud yell escaped from her mouth as she began to release arrows at the spiders. One by one they fell and she was finally able to reach her companion. Just as Shadowheart did to her moments earlier, Skye, pulled him to safety. She placed her hands on his chest and uttered a few words.
A light blue aura surrounded Astarion as she exhaled, watching the slightest bit of color return to his pale face. His crimson eyes fluttered open and she stared back, wondering why he'd done what he'd done.
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True to the journal's words, the key gem was found inside the depths of the well, a swirling amethyst pulsing with dark power. After retrieving it, they returned to where Gale and Lae'zel had set up camp. The wizard had just conjured a fire as Misty chased Scratch around the tents.
Skye walked over to a slab of stone Gale was using as a study table and slung her bag on top of it. She pulled the amethyst out of it and set it next to the fleshbound book. The air genasi took a deep breath, feeling a familiar cold presence approach from behind.
"Well," Astarion breathed as he leaned against the makeshift table. "Aren't you going to put the gem inside of it?"
"I still don't think this is a good idea, Star," Skye admitted, fidgeting with the amethyst. She could feel the magic pulsating within the gem, resonating with the dark aura emanating from the book. Her fingers traced the intricate patterns on the amethyst's surface, trying to calm her racing thoughts.
Astarion's eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he studied her hesitation. "Oh, come now, darling. Where's your sense of adventure? Besides, it's not every day we get our hands on such a... unique artifact."
Skye sighed, her gaze shifting to the book. Its cover, made of some kind of grotesque, leathery material, seemed to pulse as if it were alive. She knew the power it held, the risks involved in merging the gem with the book, but she also knew they might not have another chance to unlock its secrets.
Gale looked up from his notes, sensing the tension between them. "Skye, you don't have to do this. There are other ways we can approach this problem." He turned to Astarion. "Like destroying the tome."
Skye appreciated Gale's concern, but she also understood the urgency of their quest. They had been searching for answers for too long, and this book might hold the key to everything. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and nodded. "No, we need to do this. It's the only way."
Astarion's lips curled into a satisfied smile as he watched her resolve harden. "That's the spirit. Now, let's see what secrets this little gem will reveal."
With trembling hands, Skye positioned the amethyst over the book's cover. The gem seemed to vibrate with anticipation, and she could feel the energy building between them. As she lowered the amethyst into the book's central socket, a blinding light erupted from the contact point, enveloping them in a surge of raw power.
Skye closed her eyes, bracing herself against the force, and when she opened them again, the book had changed. The gem was embedded in its center, pulsating with a life of its own. She handed it to Astarion who nodded in thanks before walking over to his tent.
Misty approached her as she kept her eyes on the vampire spawn's retreating figure. She had to poke her sister to get her attention. "Don't tell me you're falling for the vamp, sis."
The air genasi's cheeks flushed as she turned away from her sister. "No, that's not what's going on." She quickly composed herself before turning back around. "We found the gem. Astarion convinced me to merge it with the book."
"Ooo! What'd you guys find?! Spells? Secrets-" The younger genasi's eyes grew wide in excitement. It almost scared Skye.
"I haven't got a clue, Mist," Skye interrupted, patting her sister on the shoulder. "Go get ready for bed, I'll be back in a few minutes."
As soon as Misty was out of sight, the air genasi straightened her shoulders and walked over to Astarion's tent. She noticed his brows furrowed in concentration as he began to read the book they had just unlocked. The eerie purple glow of the fleshbound cover illuminated his face, casting strange shadows across his sharp features.
"Come on. Come on. What are you hiding?" Astarion whispered as he turned a page. "Can you summon the dead? Bring them back? Can you...ugh." He let out an exasperated sigh. Skye furrowed her brows, approaching him slower. "Can you shut up and let me read?"
"Astarion? Are you okay?" the air genasi asked cautiously, holding a hand out.
"What?" the vampire spawn jumped. "Oh yes, yes. I-I'm fine." Skye raised a skeptical brow as she continued to study him. "I was just perusing this little find and WILL YOU SHUT UP?"
The air genasi looked up at him in concern. "Astarion-"
"Forgive me," he interrupted after regaining his composure and closing the book. "This book reads you more than you read it."
"That sounds dangerous, Star," Skye held out her hand again. "Maybe you should leave it alone-"
"No, Skye." It was one of the first times he had spoken her actual name. Not darling. Not my sweet. Skye. That meant he was serious. "There's something in here. But the voices - the spirits in the book won't let me see it." Astarion took a deep breath. "I barely opened it when they started whispering from the shadows. Now every time I open it, the voices surge back into my mind. I can't reason with them - they exist to protect that book-"
"Then, stop reading it!" the air genasi finally shouted, her frustration boiling over. She lunged forward, attempting to grab the book.
Astarion's reflexes were quicker, and he pulled it out of her reach, holding it protectively against his chest. "No! There's something in here - I know it."
The golden orbs of Skye's eyes softened as she gazed into Astarion's. He was scared. Desperate. He didn't want this. He needed it.
She slowly relaxed and let her arm drop back to her side. Both of them took a breath.
"Someone went through a lot of trouble to protect this tome. It has to be something more than a book of cantrips." The vampire spawn looked down at the book once more. "Still, I doubt this will help us with our parasites. Maybe it's best to put it aside for now."
"Star, what are you hoping to find in there anyway?"
Astarion took a deep breath, placing the book on the table behind him. "It's a book of necromancy, full of secrets about controlling the dead, returning the dead to life, and who knows what else." He took a step closer to Skye. "Whatever's in here, it might give me an edge over Cazador. Or free me from him entirely."
Oh. It all started coming together. Skye's mind raced as she began to understand the depth of Astarion's desperation and the potential significance of the book. The power it promised was dangerous, yes, but it also held the promise of liberation for Astarion from his centuries-long torment.
"Although I can't make any progress as long as those spirits remember their mission. It seems to be all they know," Astarion continued, his frustration evident. He must have seen how upset Skye looked because he gave her a reassuring smile. "Still, if nothing else, maybe I could beat him to death with it."
Skye let out a small, tense laugh, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood despite the gravity of their situation. "Well, that would be quite a sight," she said, shaking her head.
The flickering light of the campfire cast dancing shadows across the air genasi's face as she rocked on her heels, biting her lower lip and looking anywhere but at Astarion. She could feel the tension between them, the unspoken words and lingering doubts.
"Well," she finally said, breaking the silence. "I should check on Misty. Goodnight, Star."
Astarion opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, seemingly at a loss for words. He nodded slowly. "Goodnight, Skye."
As she turned to leave, she felt his gaze lingering on her back. She paused for a moment, her heart aching with the knowledge of his pain and the burden he carried. She wanted to say something more, to offer him more comfort, but the words eluded her and she continued forward to her sister's tent.
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The next day, they finished looting the blighted village by the early evening. They set back out on the path to the goblin camp, where their rescue mission awaited them. And Skye, being Skye, managed to find another stray (or in this case strays) to help, much to Astarion's dismay. It turned out the old woman from the grove was a hag and held the sister of two brothers captive in her hut. The air genasi offered to help the brothers, but they refused it. Instead of accepting their refusal, Skye pressed forward and it irritated Astarion to death. If it weren't for the fact that she was a strong fighter and was absolutely head over heels for him, he would've left then and there...but he couldn't afford it. So he reluctantly followed, grumbling along the way.
After walking a few miles they decided to set up camp and Skye told her sister that it was too dangerous for her to join this mission. Obviously, that didn't bode well with Misty and the two sisters got into it. The younger genasi set off deeper into the woods with her bow as her sister followed from a distance. Astarion let out a loud sigh and decided to follow, secretly curious to see where this was all leading. He found Skye peeking through a maze of tall trees, listening to the thuds of arrows hitting a tree. The vampire spawn purposely stepped on a twig to make his presence known.
The air genasi whipped her head toward him in alertness, relaxing when she noticed it was him. She returned her attention to her sister with a sigh. "You know she's pissed when she starts aiming at trees."
Astarion stood behind her watching as Misty's impeccable aim kept sending arrows flying at a target she'd carved into the tree's bark. At one point, she had even split an arrow in two. "You know, darling, she'd make an excellent rogue."
A hint of a smile crept onto Skye's face as she let out an amused scoff. "She's got the attitude of one, too," she quipped, eyeing him in the corner of her eye.
"Excuse me, but my attitude is reasonable with the situations we're thrown into," he retorted, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Skye chuckled softly and turned to face him. "Am I being too harsh? I only want to keep her safe."
The vampire spawn blinked at her. Was she being too harsh? Astarion knew hardly anything about children, but it was common sense to not allow a child to come along to battle a powerful hag, right? "I'm not the person you should be asking, my sweet."
A hum escaped the air genasi's mouth as she looked back at her sister, who was aggressively losing arrows into a nearby tree. Each shot landed with a solid thud, the young girl's frustration evident in her forceful movements. Skye's heart ached, torn between the need to protect Misty and the desire to nurture her sister's growing independence.
"She's just so determined," Skye murmured, more to herself than to Astarion. "She wants to prove herself, but I can't let her get hurt."
The vampire spawn shifted awkwardly beside her. He cleared his throat, his usual confidence faltering. "I mean, it's... understandable. Wanting to keep her safe, that is. I wouldn't... know much about raising children or anything. Obviously."
Skye turned to him, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You don't say?"
A nervous laugh escaped from Astarion's mouth as he ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, well, I suppose it doesn't take an expert to know that taking a child into a hag's lair is a terrible idea."
Skye's smile widened, appreciating his attempt at sincerity. "You're right. It is a terrible idea. But sometimes I wonder if I'm being too overprotective. Misty's stronger than she looks."
Astarion nodded, though his discomfort was still evident. "Perhaps. But strength isn't everything. Wisdom and experience matter, too. And she has you to guide her, which is more than most could hope for."
Sincerity was uncharted territory for him, but in order for his plan to work, it seemed he must at least attempt it. If he continued down this path, maybe just maybe, his plan would work after all.
Skye turned her attention to her sister, who was still diligently practicing her archery. "I'll talk to her tonight. Find a balance between protecting her and letting her grow." She smiled, glancing back at him as the weight of her worries lifted slightly. "Thank you, Astarion. For everything."
If the vampire spawn's heart could beat, it would be pounding out of his chest. That smile she gave him stirred something unfamiliar within him—something he never felt before. Something he couldn't quite put a finger to. But for once in his damned existence, he felt a genuine smile creep onto his face.
Amongst the Stars (Chapter 4: The Power of Necromancy)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 3.2k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, Necromancy of Thay
Summary: Skye and Astarion discover a book of dark magic while looting a blighted village for supplies.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
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The next morning, Skye was jolted awake by a loud squeal. She dashed out of her tent to investigate, only to discover her younger sister embracing the same white dog they had found the day before. A smile spread across her lips at the heartwarming scene. She even caught the faintest hint of a smile on the vampire spawn's face before he quickly cleared his throat and resumed analyzing his tome.
They reached the abandoned village in no time, only to find it overrun by goblins. Skye halted the party's advance, pointing out all the spots where the goblins were hiding.
"There are too many to fight," she explained. "We'll have to talk our way in."
As they approached, a goblin sneered at them. "'Allo and welcome to Bogrot! Now, kindly - giz all your stuff."
"It's a fine day, my friend," the air genasi began, a forced smile plastered on her face. "Why ruin it with killing?"
"Killing you would make my day, but I don't fancy cleaning up yer guts afterwards. Hand over yer stuff - now."
Skye smirked, glancing past the grimy creature. "Let me guess. That your girlfriend?"
The goblin followed her finger to the figure guarding the crumbling building behind him. The guard wore tattered armor, her body adorned with lavender tattoos.
"So what if she is?" the goblin retorted, crossing his arms nonchalantly.
The air genasi sniffed humorously and glanced over at the goblin beside him. "Does she know you're boning this one?"
Astarion stifled a laugh as the goblin's eyes widened in panic. "I-I don't know what yer talkin' about."
"I wonder what she'd think about this," Skye mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
The goblin blinked a few times, unable to break her intense gaze. "Alright, alright," he conceded. "Fine - keep yer goods. But this stays between us, yeah?"
The air genasi shrugged her shoulders before confidently striding inside. Astarion caught up to her with a raised brow. "Well done, darling. How'd you know that would work?"
Skye glanced at the goblin with the lavender tattoos. "She keeps looking back at him with that look in her eyes."
The vampire spawn twisted his nose in confusion. "What look?"
"The look you get when you're in love," Misty explained dreamily, keeping pace with them.
Astarion sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Gods, help us all."
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Their goal was simple: find supplies and anything that could give them leverage on the upcoming rescue mission. They split up to cover as much of the village as they could before nightfall. Astarion, Misty, Skye, Shadowheart, and Wyll went in one direction, while the others went in the other. The first building they entered appeared to be a tavern of sorts, filled with racks of wine and a wooden bar spanning a quarter of the room. Exploring the room, they acquired many things, such as potions and ingredients to make them. Of course, they weren't going to miss out on the cobweb-covered wine either.
Misty wandered around and discovered a hatch that led to a room beneath them.
It was quite a long climb down to a cellar, but eventually, they made it to the bottom. The cellar was littered with old books and potions. Astarion found a chest containing many, in fact. As the party continued their search, Skye discovered a lever and pulled it, causing a large bookshelf to move to the side, revealing a secret passage.
"My, my. What have we here?" Astarion flashed the air genasi a flirtatious smile before entering. She couldn't help the heat that rose to her cheeks and silently cursed herself for it.
The passage led to a grassy cavern filled with moldering caskets. Skye approached one and opened the lid, discovering an odd scroll inside. She handed it to Wyll, who began to study it as they continued their search.
The vampire spawn sensed an unsettling presence near some of the other caskets and glanced uneasily at the others. "Perhaps we should leave the rest undisturbed."
Misty dismissed his suggestion as absurd and strode toward one at the rear of the cavern. Her hand barely grazed the lid when Astarion seized her arm and forcefully pulled her away. "You foolish girl! Do you have a brain?!"
Before she could react, the casket exploded, sending both of them sprawling as a skeletal creature burst forth. It darted to an adjacent casket and let out a chilling howl, causing it to splinter apart, unleashing yet another skeletal horror. Misty shrieked as one lunged at her, but Astarion swiftly intercepted it with his dagger.
The young genasi scrambled to her feet, narrowly evading the claws of the second skeleton. Skye retaliated with a bolt of radiant energy, reducing it to a heap of bones. She shot Misty a stern look. "Hide. I'll deal with you later," she hissed through clenched teeth, rallying Shadowheart and Wyll to join Astarion in the fray. Before the skeletal menace could summon reinforcements, Wyll unleashed a burst of energy that shattered it into fragments.
Misty avoided her sister's gaze, nervously rubbing her arm as she approached.
"When someone tells you to leave something alone, you best listen!" Skye shouted as the others watched awkwardly behind her.
"I-I didn't think anything would happen," the younger genasi defended herself.
Astarion crossed his arms and rolled his crimson eyes in irritation. "Oh, yes, because I would pass up the chance to acquire more loot for no reason."
Misty glanced at her feet in silence as Skye knelt before her, placing gentle hands on her arms. "Don't touch anything else, do you understand?" Skye's voice was calm now. The younger genasi nodded, still avoiding her sister's gaze. "Good."
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After summoning a cheeky quasit named Shovel, the party learned of a spellbook brimming with powerful incantations. Astarion, instantly intrigued, followed the peculiar creature to a mirror, with a skeptical Skye close behind. As they stood before the mirror, a smoky blue face materialized. The air genasi placed a hand on Astarion's chest as she stepped past him. "Let me handle this," she whispered, met by the vampire spawn's flirtatious smile. "Stop that."
Skye took a deep breath as the figure in the mirror scrutinized her, aware of the rest of the group shuffling nervously behind them.
"Spea-k your name," it ordered with an expressionless face.
The air genasi recalled the diary they had found in the remains of one of the moldering caskets, detailing Ilyn Toth's interest in necromancy. Shovel's former master. Skye cleared her throat and answered confidently, "Ilyn Toth."
The blue face in the mirror flickered red. "I know my m-aster's face. You are not Ilyn Toth."
Skye glanced over at the others, who watched with wide eyes. Shovel, standing beside her, gestured urgently for her to continue. Taking a steadying breath, the air genasi returned her gaze to the mirror.
"If you are his ally, ste-p forward and declare it."
Skye stepped forward with deliberate confidence. "I am indeed an ally of Ilyn Toth," she proclaimed, her voice steady. "We seek the knowledge and power within his spellbook." She glanced back over to see Misty giving her two thumbs up.
The mirror's face flickered again, this time pausing as if considering her words. "Only a t-rue ally of Ilyn Toth may pass. What th-ink you of the zulkir known as Szass Tam?"
The name sounded familiar to Skye. She recalled reading a tome on Thayan history not too long ago, which contained stories of a powerful lich who made deals with dark gods, sharing that very name. Taking a shuddering breath, she responded, "A foul lich. He should suffer a thousand more deaths."
"You are no zulkier, b-ut are you wise? T-tell me, why might one use balsam ointment?"
"Oh, balsam? Good for burns," Shovel interjected with a mischievous smile.
Skye glared at her, recognizing the lie immediately. Her fifteen years as a druid had taught her the uses of almost every plant, whether for poison or healing properties. She knew balsam was far more versatile than the quasit suggested. "Balsam ointment is used for healing," she began, her voice gaining confidence. "It soothes wounds and promotes recovery, an essential remedy for those who travel and fight."
"Acceptable. F-inally, if you could see an-ything in me, what w-ould it be?"
The air genasi knew this was a trick question. In her heart, she yearned for her sister's safety, for her to have a normal childhood, to go to school, make friends her age, and experience the joys of being a child. But she knew that wasn't the answer the mirror sought. Fixing her gaze confidently on the mirror, she spoke with resolute purpose. "I'd look for whatever godsdamn spell will rid me of this worm in my head."
"You seek to sur-vive. You seek power," the mirror responded, its voice resonating with approval. Slowly, a hidden pathway revealed itself before the adventurers. "Be wel-come."
Skye turned to her companions, determination gleaming in her eyes. "This is it. Let's go."
Their steps led them to a peculiar alchemy lab strewn with suspicious beakers and vials, skeletal remains, and crates and barrels filled with various herbs and plants. Beside them stood a locked cell containing an altar that held a strange book. The air genasi moved closer to get a better look, with the others following closely behind. She noticed a slight difference in the floor's levels and instinctively pulled Misty back roughly by the arm.
"Stop, it's a trap," Skye announced, raising her hand to halt the others. She glanced over her shoulder at Astarion. "Star, can you do the honors?"
The vampire spawn chuckled, flashing a sly grin. "With pleasure, darling."
Skye rolled her eyes, maintaining a firm grip on Misty's arm to keep her safe. As Astarion approached the suspicious area, he crouched low, examining the slight differences in the floor levels. His nimble fingers traced the edges of the trap, and with deft precision, he began to disarm it.
"Impressive work as always," Wyll commented, watching Astarion's meticulous movements.
The vampire spawn smirked, not breaking his concentration. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Wyll." Finally, with a soft click, he disabled the trap. He stood up, brushing his hands off with a flourish. "All done. You can proceed safely now."
Skye reached out to open the cell door, only to find it locked. "Shit," she muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice.
"Would you like me to pick the lock, too, darling?" Astarion interjected with his usual smartass tone, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
The air genasi raised her eyebrows defiantly, turning her nose away from him like a stubborn child. "No, I'll figure it out, thank you."
Wyll and Shadowheart exchanged a puzzled glance at their leader's uncharacteristic behavior. Skye was typically composed and strategic, but Astarion's teasing seemed to rattle her.
She began to search the laboratory meticulously, her keen eyes scanning every corner and surface in search of the key. After what felt like an eternity of rummaging through dusty shelves and overturned crates, Skye finally stumbled upon a storage room tucked away in a neglected corner. The air inside was musty and stale, filled with the scent of decay from sacks and barrels of long-rotted provisions.
Her gaze landed on a rotting wooden shelf that groaned under the weight of its contents. Among the debris and cobwebs, Skye spotted a glint of metal. She reached out and carefully retrieved an old, rusted key. It was tarnished with age, but its shape and size matched the lock on the cell door perfectly.
Turning on her heel, the air genasi marched back to where Astarion lounged against the wall, an amused smirk playing on his lips. She held up the key triumphantly, her smug expression speaking volumes as she inserted it into the lock with a satisfying click. With a smooth motion, she pulled the door open, revealing the dimly lit cell beyond.
Astarion raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Well done, darling. I knew you'd find it."
Skye rolled her eyes but couldn't help a small smile of satisfaction. "Of course I did," she retorted.
As they entered, their eyes fell upon a chilling sight: a book bound in what appeared to be human flesh, its grotesque features hauntingly lifelike. Two large, amethyst eyes stared out from the cover, glinting eerily in the faint light. The book's mouth was frozen in a perpetual scream, its existence seemingly trapped in eternal agony.
Without hesitation, Skye moved forward to grasp the book, her hand reaching out towards its disturbing visage. But before her fingers could make contact, a cold hand closed around her wrist, stopping her midair. Startled, she turned to see Astarion behind her, his crimson eyes fixed on her with a rare seriousness that contrasted sharply with his usual playful demeanor. His mask of casual amusement quickly returned, however, as he spoke.
"You know, for someone so perceptive, you were really pushing your luck just then," he remarked with a sly smile, releasing her wrist.
Skye's golden eyes narrowed to slits as she shot him a sharp glance, her irritation clear despite his teasing. She stepped back, allowing him room to work. With practiced skill, Astarion knelt beside the grotesque book, his hands deftly navigating the unseen mechanisms hidden beneath its surface.
In a matter of moments, he disarmed the trap with precision. Rising to his feet, he cast a final smirk in Skye's direction, his amusement evident.
"Just saving you from a potentially painful lesson," he added nonchalantly, gesturing towards the now-safe book.
Skye huffed softly, though a begrudging smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I can handle myself, thank you," she retorted.
With the trap neutralized, the air genasi approached the grotesque tome once more, her hand hovering over its eerie cover. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the unsettling aura it exuded, before finally lifting the book from its resting place on the altar.
As she cradled the weight of the book in her arms, its eerie presence seemed to pulse faintly against her skin, almost as if it were alive with malevolent energy. Skye noticed that the book was tightly sealed shut, devoid of any visible keyhole or latch. The longer she studied it, the more she became aware of its sinister nature, as if it emanated a dark essence that threatened to seep into her very being.
Astarion approached silently from behind, his presence barely perceptible until his hand grazed hers, sending a shiver down her spine. His voice, smooth and velvety, whispered into her ear, "That looks terribly heavy. Why don't you let me carry it for you?"
Skye tensed at the sensation of his touch, the warmth of his breath against her ear contrasting with the chill that still lingered from the book's touch. She turned slightly to meet his gaze. "It's quite alright, Astarion," she replied slightly irritated. "I believe I can manage."
With deliberate care, the air genasi carefully placed the cursed book into her backpack, securing it tightly to ensure it wouldn't shift or jostle. The weight of it pressed against her back was a constant reminder of its presence and the dark mysteries it held.
"Let's get out of here," she continued, her tone brisk as she turned away from the altar. "This place reeks of rotten meat, and I'd rather not linger any longer than necessary."
Wyll and Shadowheart nodded in agreement, casting uneasy glances at the grotesque book nestled within Skye's pack.
"Look what I found!" Misty exclaimed, rushing up to them with a piece of parchment.
The older genasi rolled her eyes. "Mist, what did I say about touching things?"
"Seriously though, look what I found!"
Skye let out an exasperated sigh as she snatched the paper from Misty's hand. The aged page, torn from what seemed to be a journal of arcane observations, detailed various troubling entries. 14 Elent. The book's key gem has gone missing. Familiar ordered to watch my apprentice. Then, further down read: 15 Nightal. Familiar reports apprentice disappeared near well. Will observe.
Misty's eyes gleamed with excitement, her anticipation palpable as she studied the cryptic message. "It has to be in the well, right?" she asked, her gaze shifting from the page to her sister's face. "That's where the apprentice was last seen."
"I don't know about this. This is dark magic—"
"Allow me, then," Astarion interjected smoothly, stepping forward with a confident smile. "We find the gem, unlock the book, and I'll read it. Everything will be perfectly fine."
The air genasi arched a skeptical eyebrow, her gaze flickering between Astarion and the unsettling page in her hand. "Right. And what if it's not?"
The vampire spawn's smile faltered slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he shrugged nonchalantly. "We deal with it when the time comes. Besides, what's life without a little risk?"
Skye sighed again, the weight of responsibility heavy on her shoulders. She glanced at Misty, her expression softening with sisterly concern. "Misty, this isn't a game," she said gently. "We're dealing with powerful magic here. If that gem unlocks something dangerous—"
"We'll handle it together," the younger genasi insisted.
Wyll stepped forward. "Skye's right to be cautious. We need to approach this carefully."
Shadowheart nodded in agreement, her eyes thoughtful as she regarded the torn page. "Dark magic has a way of twisting intentions. We must tread carefully."
A tense silence settled over the group as they contemplated their next move. The promise of forbidden knowledge beckoned tantalizingly, yet the potential dangers loomed ominously in the background. Skye took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities and uncertainties.
"Alright," she said finally, her voice steady with resolve. "Let's find this gem."
------------------------------------
Misty recalled a well they had passed on their way to the ruined tavern. As they approached it, Skye flicked a coin down to gauge its depth, but it clinked against dry stone instead of splashing into water. She glanced up at Astarion with a furrowed brow. "It's dry. We'll need to find a safer way down than jumping."
Shadowheart rummaged in her bag and retrieved several potions, which she handed to the air genasi. "Feather fall potions," she explained calmly. "They'll let us float down to the bottom without any risk of injury."
Accepting the potions with a nod of thanks, Skye turned her attention to Misty and gestured for her to come closer. She unslung her backpack and held it out to her sister. "I need you to take my bag to Gale," she instructed softly.
Reluctantly, the younger genasi took the backpack, rolling her eyes in mild irritation. "I'm not your slave, you know."
Skye let out an exasperated sigh, her gaze filled with concern as she looked down at her sister. "It's too dangerous, Mist. We don't know what might be guarding this gem," she explained, gesturing towards a distant building where Gale was deep in conversation with Lae'zel. "The others are over there. We'll be back soon. I promise."
Misty averted her eyes from her sister's as she watched the rest of the group consume their potions and begin to descend into the well one by one.
Rating: Mature
Word count: 1.9k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, Astarion's scars, bathing
Summary: Skye learns about Astarion's scars.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
------------------------------------
Honestly, the first tenday they spent together went fairly smoothly despite the amount of tension between Lae'zel and Shadowheart. For the most part, everyone got along...or at the very least, tolerated each other. Though the past two days were pretty eventful to say the least.
It started near the sacred pool in the grove. A lovely ritual was being performed as a green aura enveloped the stone around the water. Several tall statues of animals were encircling the pool as well, giving it a very ethereal look.
A few druids blocked their path at first before they were finally allowed in. Apparently, the leader, Kagha wanted a word with them. Skye sensed there was something off about her as she threatened a young tiefling child with a snake. It lasted all of two seconds before the air genasi started throwing threats around.
There, they learned the druids wanted the tieflings gone and Kagha wanted them to carry out the task. Skye refused once again to do someone else's bidding, especially when they're in the wrong. Not much was said after until they made it to the back of the Inner Sanctum, where they found a healer.
Unfortunately, she wasn't much help and actually tried to poison Skye. Needless to say, the air genasi didn't take too kindly to this and the healer was left behind with one nasty headache.
They realized finding Halsin, the First Druid of the grove's circle, was their next priority as they'd discovered he'd actually done research on the parasites.
The following night as they were gathering supplies for the next part of their journey, a devil decided to infiltrate their camp, offering them salvation. Raphael disgusted Skye. He reminded her of Astarion in a way, yet at least the vampire spawn had some semblance of personal space. Skye's spit attack ended up being a wakeup call to the devil as he finally left them to their own devices.
Now, they're marching their way forward to a goblin camp where Halsin was supposedly taken hostage. As they approached an abandoned village, Astarion watched as Misty's long ears twitched. She stopped walking in her tracks and turned her head.
Skye must have heard a noise, too because she also turned her head in that area. She locked eyes with Astarion before following her sister towards it. "We'll be right back."
"Where are you going, now?" Gale asked with a face palm. "Mystra, help me."
Astarion's eyes shifted between the rest of the group and the two sisters. Eventually, he decided to follow them, deciding he'd rather not have the others taking too close of a look at him.
When the vampire spawn caught up to them, he saw both of the girls kneeling in front of a dog whiter than snow with large pointy ears. It was timid at first, warning them to not come closer with a low growl.
Skye started to hum a soothing tune that caused the dog to relax as she began to hold out her hand. The younger genasi cautiously mimicked her sister and smiled softly as the dog sniffed her hand.
Astarion watched from a distance, preferring not to indulge in the encounter. After a few moments, the girls left the dog and started to return to the group.
The older genasi stopped in front of Astarion while the other kept walking. Skye walked in step with him as she began talking. "Dog's owner was brutally killed. Misty wanted to take him in, but he wasn't gonna leave his owner."
"Furthermore, we have enough strays to last a lifetime. We don't need any more," Astarion added with a sardonic smile.
"Come on, Star," Skye teased, watching as the vampire spawn reacted to the new nickname. "You can't tell me you've never wanted a pet before."
"Darling, for most of my existence, I was the pet," he spat bitterly.
The air genasi's shoulders slumped a little as they continued to walk in silence. Suddenly, an idea popped in her head. "Hey, I think it's time we had a night off."
---------------------------------
Skye showed no hesitation in stripping bare. She jumped into the water, letting herself submerge a little longer than necessary. When she came up for air, she shook her head like a dog and gave Astarion a lopsided smile. "Well, don't just stand there!" she shouted. "Come on in!"
But Astarion couldn't help himself. This was a side of the air genasi he never saw before. Careless and free. Relaxed and having...fun. She looked like a siren with her large golden eyes, beckoning to him with her song.
"Astarionnnnn," she singsonged. When he snapped out of his trance, her smile softened. It was reassuring. It was almost comforting.
The vampire spawn swiftly donned his mask as she swam towards the shore. "Coming, darling. I was just admiring the view," he purred, a predatory gleam in his crimson eyes.
He couldn't ignore the flicker of irritation in her gaze as she backflipped into the water, drenching him from head to toe. Emerging with a mischievous grin, she giggled, "You look like a grumpy cat." Astarion glared at her in annoyance. "Okay, okay." With a flick of her wrist, a warm gust of air enveloped him, drying him completely.
"Well, since you insist on pestering me until I join you, I might as well oblige," he said, a broad smirk spreading across his lips as he began to strip in front of her. She remained completely unfazed, and for a moment, he forgot she must be accustomed to such sights from her time living in the wild. He chuckled as she glanced down and raised her eyebrows.
Skye shrugged. "Not too shabby, Star."
"Oh, trust me. I know, my sweet," Astarion purred back as he joined her in the water.
She gave him another soft smile, and for the briefest moment, he felt his facade slipping, almost allowing himself to return the sentiment. But Astarion knew better and kept up his flirtatious front. "So, this was all just to get me naked in the water with you? Darling, all you had to do was ask."
"Don't act so coy, Star. You knew what was going to happen the moment we reached the river," Skye quipped with a mischievous smile. The vampire spawn couldn't suppress the genuine laugh that escaped him, cursing himself for it.
Vulnerability was weakness. He couldn't afford to be weak. Not when he was so close to being free. The closest he'd ever been. He had to keep up the facade. It was the only way to ensure her she waded towards the middle of the river, he followed with a predatory smirk, which she met with her own playful smile. When they reached the center, Skye took a deep breath. "I... I want to show you something."
Astarion tilted his head in confusion.
"Um," she swallowed, turning to face the moon. "Nobody knows about this but me. Not even Misty."
Before the vampire spawn could comment, a bluish glow enveloped her. She held her hands out in front of her, furrowing her brows in concentration. Suddenly, a bubble formed and floated to her hands. Astarion raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"You can make... bubbles?" he deadpanned. "This is the big secret you wanted to show me?"
He knew he was in trouble the moment a huge smirk spread across her lips. In one smooth movement, Skye swept her arms across the water, conjuring a large wave that crashed down on the vampire spawn.
He looked up at her in irritation as his curls matted to his head. "You are going to pay for that."
The vampire spawn sent his own wave towards her. Skye stopped using her enhanced abilities to play fair, and the two of them giggled like children, splashing each other. For the first time, he allowed himself to let his guard down. After all, this was what she wanted. Plus, he couldn't deny the immense relief he felt once he let loose.
As the playful splashing continued, the moonlight danced on the water around them, casting a magical glow on their laughter-filled faces. Astarion felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, a sense of connection and freedom that he hadn't experienced in centuries. In that moment, surrounded by the gentle caress of the water and the echo of their laughter, he realized just how much he had needed this—this simple, joyous moment of unguarded companionship.
After their splash war ended, they leaned against the cliff face, still waist-deep in the water.
"I'm an air genasi. I'm not supposed to be able to manipulate water," Skye admitted, sounding almost embarrassed.
Astarion hummed thoughtfully. "Well, maybe that's not entirely a bad thing," he said gently. "It might mean you're one of the most powerful genasi to exist." A large, mischievous smirk spread across the vampire spawn's face. "And we need all the power we can get."
The air genasi had no words for him, so she simply nodded. They sat for a few more moments in silence before Astarion made his way over to the shoreline. A loud gasp escaped from Skye's lips as the ethereal beams of the moonlight shone on the vampire spawn's back, revealing raised scars in the shape of a rune. At the sound, Astarion tensed, stopping in his tracks. For once, he felt like the prey.
Skye slowly waded to the shore, approaching Astarion as if he were a frightened animal. She had the compulsion to touch the scars, but thought better of it, letting her hands linger just above them. "Who did this to you?"
"Take a guess," the vampire spawn muttered bitterly.
Gentle footsteps encircled him to face him for a moment. "Your master?"
"Former master," Astarion corrected with a scowl, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
The air genasi conjured glowing orbs around them as she studied the scars thoroughly. "They look like runes. Is it Infernal?"
"Infernal, what?" The vampire spawn cleared his throat. "Who knows? The bastard was insane."
Skye nodded slowly. "Whatever they are, they must hold some significance."
"Cazador considered himself an artist and would use his spawn as canvases," Astarion began, gazing down into the soft golden orbs below him. "He carved that one over the course of a night and made many revisions."
"Gods, I'm so sorry, Astarion." Skye's voice carried a weight of empathy as she spoke. It struck Astarion deeply, the sincerity in her expression piercing through his usual defenses. In all his years, he had rarely encountered such genuine concern from anyone, let alone someone he had known for so short a time.
He stood there silently, absorbing her words as an unfamiliar warmth spread through him. It wasn't pity that he saw in her eyes, but a genuine understanding of the pain he had endured. Skye's empathy touched something deep within him, stirring emotions he had long kept buried beneath layers of cynicism and detachment.
After a moment, the vampire spawn nodded in acknowledgment, his typically sharp wit momentarily softened by the genuine sincerity in the air genasi's eyes. She stood quietly, observing him as he gathered his clothes and began to dress.
"Astarion," she called out as he prepared to head back towards camp. He turned to face her, noting the spark of determination that now burned brightly in her golden gaze. Her voice, steady and resolute, carried a promise that resonated deeply within him.
Rating: Mature
Word count: 2.8k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, slow burn, little sister, Astarion needs blood
Summary: Skye helps Astarion satiate his hunger.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
------------------------
The next day came fairly quickly as the party awoke to the chirping of birds and the sun gracefully shining its rays over their camp. After packing up, they continued on their trek. Skye was sure to separate the gith and the cleric, lest they tear each other apart...which would've been highly entertaining to Astarion. He did quite enjoy their bickering.
The air genasi glanced over at her younger sister, who was dressed in a tunic bluer than the sea, adorned with golden accents along the poet sleeves. The tunic seemed to be enchanted with a protection spell, as a faint, radiant aura emanated from it. Around her neck was a teal collar, separate from the shirt, fastened with a golden amulet. The amulet bore their circle's emblem, beautifully engraved in sapphire at its center. She wore simple black leather pants and brown boots that matched her sister's.
Skye stopped walking and knelt in front of her sister. "Your pigtails are crooked," she muttered, taking out one of the golden fasteners and adjusting it to match the other.
"Skye," Misty warned as her face began to flush in embarrassment.
"Chk, you have terrible priorities," Lae'zel grumbled from the back of the party.
"Well apparently, you've never been a little girl, Lae'zel," Shadowheart said with a smirk. The gith looked over blankly before rolling her eyes.
"There." The air genasi stood back up after she was finished and continued walking. She scanned her surroundings for a moment. "Wait a minute. I know where we are," she mumbled, turning to the others with a soft smile. "We're near a druid grove."
Yet, as they approached, the situation quickly turned sour. A brief argument between a druid and a tiefling was abruptly interrupted by a horde of goblins, followed by a menacing bugbear and a snarling worg. Instinctively, Skye assumed command, directing Shadowheart, Misty, and Astarion to take the high ground, while the rest moved in close.
Both the cleric and the rogue were impressed by the young air genasi's remarkable skill with a bow. She inhaled, aimed, exhaled, and released—each arrow striking its target with flawless precision.
Astarion's crimson eyes were drawn to the battle below, where Skye secured her quarterstaff to her back and extended her arms. In an instant, her body began to glow, her joints shimmering like stars with luminous lines connecting them, forming a living constellation. A glowing blue shortbow appeared in her hand as she opened her eyes, now radiating with a golden light. She pulled the bowstring taut, a radiant arrow materializing in the notch. With a steady exhale, she released it, watching as the arrow set one of the goblins ablaze in radiant fire.
Skye glanced behind her to check on her sister, only to be confronted by her worst nightmare. A goblin was sneaking up on Misty while the trio above remained focused on the targets below. Taken off guard, the air genasi quickly aimed a radiant arrow at the vile creature, but was struck across the back with a club. She shouted her sister's name in a desperate warning, but Misty didn't comprehend the danger. Instead, she aimed an arrow at the goblin attacking Skye.
Misty jumped at the sound of an arrow whooshing past her ear, striking a target behind her. She turned just in time to see a goblin collapse to the ground. Whirling around, she caught sight of Astarion, who was nonchalantly pretending he hadn't just saved her. She offered him a soft, grateful smile in thanks.
Below, Skye maintained her starry form, aiming a radiant arrow at the goblin attacking her. Her shot struck true, disintegrating the creature in a burst of white flames. Panic gripped her heart as she looked up at the cliff and saw the aftermath of the attack. She sighed in relief and exchanged a knowing glance with Astarion. Though he wouldn't admit to rescuing the little wisp, she was deeply grateful nonetheless.
------------------------------
Under the stars in the clearing, Skye reflected on the day's events. They had been welcomed into another circle's grove after defending it from a goblin horde. They had also recruited another infected person to aid in their quest. But most importantly, Astarion had saved her sister's life. She hadn't known Astarion long, but she was certain he was an ignorant, self-absorbed asshole. So why had he saved her sister? Surely, he had other motives. Perhaps he was simply protecting his own hide from her wrath.
Her thoughts were broken by a sudden growl of frustration. Sapphire curls sprung up with her as she rose to her feet. She followed the sound of the noise deeper into trees, where she found the vampire spawn breathing heavily, staring at the path in front of him.
"Astarion?" She paused in her steps as the rogue's body tensed. "Are you alright?"
It took a moment for him to respond, before putting on his usual charming facade. He pivoted to face her with a practiced smile and a clasp of his hands. "Darling! I didn't even see you there. I'm just out for a hunt."
Skye narrowed her eyes skeptically and began to circle him like a predator stalking prey. She observed as his facade slowly began to crumble, revealing a look of misery. It dawned on her as she recalled Astarion's performance in battle earlier: the only arrow he landed had been the one that saved her sister's life. He was clearly struggling to feed.
The vampire spawn couldn't handle her scrutiny anymore and placed his hands on his hips. "Alright, fine. I'm not as fast as I can be and I've been having trouble catching food."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Skye offered, rubbing her arm awkwardly.
"Hmm..." Astarion scanned her over for a moment, with a hand on his chin. "Perhaps, there is. I'm too slow, right now. Too weak. If I could have just a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better."
The air genasi threw her hands up defensively. "Woah, woah, woah. I was thinking more along the lines of finding food for you, not becoming a living snack."
"Ahh, Skye, my dear. Your offer is generous, truly. But you see, catching food—while commendable—would only delay the inevitable. I'm...in need, and feeding from willing donors is far less...messy, shall we say? It's a simple exchange, really. A moment's discomfort and you go unharmed, with my gratitude to boot."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Skye shifted uncomfortably, trying to look anywhere but at him. Astarion approached her, hesitantly placing his hands gently on her shoulders, sending a shiver down her spine as she finally glanced up at him.
"I understand your hesitation, believe me, but imagine the relief it would bring me. A quick sip, and I'll be stronger to aid our cause, to protect you. To protect Misty. All of us, really. You're a compassionate soul; you can see this isn't about mere hunger. It's survival, for both of us." They stood there, locked in an intense gaze until his hands slowly dropped back to his sides.
Skye replayed his words in her mind, sensing his partial honesty and the underlying manipulation. Despite her reservations, his points struck a chord. His hunting was becoming sloppy; just that night, they'd stumbled upon an exsanguinated boar while scouting outside the grove, forcing them to divert the party's attention. She groaned inwardly. She couldn't believe she was actually entertaining the idea.
The air genasi let out a loud sigh. "Fine." The vampire spawn's crimson orbs lit up instantly, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Skye interrupted him pointing a finger accusingly at him. "But one drop more than you need and I'm driving a stake through your chest."
Astarion's grin faded slightly at the seriousness in her voice. He nodded solemnly, his gaze locking again with hers. "Understood."
"Alright then. Let's get this over with," Skye muttered in irritation. She shrugged off her cerulean leather overcoat, revealing a pleated white blouse underneath. With deliberate movements, she removed the matching choker embroidered with golden vines and set both garments aside, never once breaking eye contact with Astarion.
"You know, under different circumstances, darling, this encounter might've taken quite a different turn," he purred, a flirtatious glint in his eyes, his sharpened canines catching the light.
Skye suppressed a shocked reaction to his words by clearing her throat and looking away. "In your dreams, rogue."
Astarion chuckled softly at her response. "Now, let's make ourselves comfortable, shall we?"
The air genasi reclined on the grass, her breath catching as she watched Astarion straddle her. They locked eyes for a moment, tension crackling between them. Eventually, Skye cleared her throat.
"So, are you going to drink from me, or are you just going to sit there and stare at me like I'm on display at Sharess Caress?"
The vampire spawn's expression softened, his gaze shifting to something more contemplative. He reached out with a gentle hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from Skye's face. "You have my word, Skye," he murmured. "I'll be as gentle as I can and I won't take more than I need."
The druid held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for any hint of deception. Finding none, she nodded slowly and tilted her head to the side exposing her neck to him. Astarion's expression softened further as he leaned in, his breath barely a whisper against her skin. With utmost care, he pressed his lips to her neck, his fangs piercing her skin with a gentleness that surprised her.
Nevertheless, it still hurt like a bitch and she couldn't stifle the pained whimper that escaped her lips as she instinctively wrapped an arm around him. He gently cradled her head to the side with one hand, while the other rested on the grass beside her. As he continued to drink, she felt her heart race and an odd sense of release washed over her. Gradually, she relaxed into him with a soft hum, beginning to lose sensation in her arm.
"Astarion, that's enough," she whispered weakly as she started to regain her senses.
Her words were enough to break him from his trance, and he pulled back, licking his lips. "That was...delicious."
"Don't get any ideas," the air genasi warned, pressing a hand to the new wound on her neck.
Astarion picked up her coat and choker before extending a hand to her. Skye hesitated, her gaze shifting between his hand and his eyes. After a moment, she tentatively accepted it, allowing him to help her up. As soon as she released his hand, however, she began to stumble. The vampire spawn swiftly caught her and swept her up into his arms.
"Astarion, put me down," the air genasi protested, weakly pushing against his chest.
"If I were to do that, how would you get back to camp? You can't even walk."
Skye groaned softly, and the forest fell silent around them. She could have sworn she felt his crimson eyes locking onto her multiple times as they walked.
"This is a gift, you know?" He muttered uncomfortably. "I won't forget it."
Then, her eyelids felt heavy and everything went black.
------------------------------
Letting Astarion bite her was the worst choice she could have made. She was thankful he didn't abandon her in the forest when she lost consciousness, but it was still a terrible idea. Now, she felt woozy and lightheaded, possibly even a bit disoriented—all the symptoms of blood loss. Lovely.
At the moment, she was absentmindedly helping Misty with her hair, a ritual they'd maintained ever since the girl's hair had grown long enough when she was just a babe.
"That's a pretty nasty bite," Misty's voice echoed in her ear. Skye's golden eyes widened as she realized she had forgotten to put her choker back on, leaving the two puncture wounds on her neck exposed for all to see. "How'd a spider that big sneak into our camp?"
A hand quickly covered the young genasi's mouth. "It's not that big of a deal," Skye whispered. "Don't send the party in a panic over large spiders."
Before she knew it, the party's cleric was already trudging over. Skye rolled her eyes and released her hand from her sister's mouth. "Go practice your spells. I'll join you in a moment." Misty nodded skeptically and walked over to a secluded part of the camp.
"So, I couldn't help but overhear you have a rather nasty bite?" Shadowheart asked with her arms crossed after she reached the air genasi.
"Apparently, it was a large spider," the air genasi deadpanned, her indifferent facade masking the rapid beat of her heart.
The cleric leaned in and tilted Skye's head to the side, inspecting the wound closely. "That's certainly a vampire bite."
At that moment, Skye caught Astarion's horrified gaze as he glanced up from his book, trying to appear nonchalant. Despite how much he sometimes irritated her, she had made him a promise, and she always kept her promises. She turned back to Shadowheart, whose impatient eyes were blazing with curiosity.
"There's no way," Skye finally said, causing the cleric's brows to raise skeptically. "I would know if a vampire bit me."
Shadowheart studied her blank expression with one of her own. Her gaze then swept over to the person most likely to be a vampire. Fortunately, she didn't catch his worried look because Misty began to call him over to show him the new cantrip she had learned. Astarion, usually disinterested in watching her practice, seized the opportunity to escape.
"If you say so," the cleric replied. She incanted a few words, placing a hand against Skye's neck. A blue energy washed over the air genasi, healing her wound and restoring her to her normal self. "Just be more careful in the future," she advised, standing up and walking away.
Skye released a breath she didn't realize she was holding and walked over to Astarion, witnessing a surprising sight before her.
The vampire spawn, who usually had a strong dislike for children, was sitting next to her sister, showing her how to properly sharpen her dagger. The corners of Skye's lips twitched with amusement. Noticing her presence, Astarion stood up and cleared his throat.
"Sis, look how sharp this is." Misty proudly displayed the ragged blade with a wrapped hilt in front of her.
The older air genasi studied the weapon in front of her, impressed at the sharpness. "Very nice, Mist." She glanced over, noticing Astarion had yet to move. "Hey, I need to have a quick word with Astarion and then we'll start your training."
Misty nodded with a mischievous smile as Skye gestured for Astarion to follow her. After they'd walked further into the forest, the vampire spawn broke the silence. "Thank you...for not telling Shadowheart about-"
"I promised you your...secret was safe with me, and I don't break my promises," the air genasi interrupted with a shrug, gently brushing at the gravel on the path with her foot. She stopped and turned to give Astarion a sincere look. "Look, the party is starting to get suspicious. They're eventually going to find out."
Astarion blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Trust me, I know."
"I think it's better to tell them before they find out themselves," Skye suggested.
The vampire spawn grew silent, staring at her blankly. After a moment, he nodded, albeit hesitantly. "You're right," he admitted softly.
Feeling a surge of guilt grow in the pit of her stomach, Skye reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. He flinched slightly, pulling away from her touch as if she had seared him. The air genasi let her hand fall to her side, looking away in embarrassment.
"You protected my sister from being killed by a goblin," she continued, her voice soft but earnest. "You could've ignored her, pretended like you never saw her... but you didn't." She finally met his gaze, relief filling her golden orbs. "And for that, I'm entirely grateful. So, I promise you, Astarion, as long as I'm alive, I will protect you."
For a fleeting moment, she glimpsed the vulnerability behind his mask, a flicker of gratitude in those shimmering crimson orbs of his. But as quickly as they appeared, his defenses snapped back into place, replaced by a practiced grin. "That's all I'm asking."
Skye nodded, a twinge of disappointment flickering across her features at his hardened response. "Now was that all?"
The air genasi managed an annoyed smile, gesturing back toward the direction they had come from.
Rating: Mature
Word count: 2.6k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, brief mention of past child abuse, little sister, slow burn
Summary: Skye, a headstrong druid, embarks on a perilous journey with her younger sister to find a cure for a mysterious tadpole affliction, joining forces with a motley crew of misfits. However, as they navigate their journey, unexpected emotions surface, challenging their bonds and altering the course of their adventure.
*Link to AO3 Post
-------------------------
Beautiful. Gorgeous. All words others would use to describe him could be used to describe her, too. Long, cerulean curls trailing down her back. A flawless heart shaped face the color of the sky on a sunny summer's day. Freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her petite button nose and the top of her cheek bones. It was very obvious she was an air genasi. If it wasn't her complexion that gave it away, it was the way she spoke. There was a sort of breathiness to her voice like it carried a slight breeze. It was soft and beautiful, yet when she got angry, it came out like a destructive whirlwind.
Astarion won't ever forget the first time they met. He had tried to manipulate her. Wrestled with her in the sand on a cliff near the Chionthar and held a knife to her throat with a smirk.
Her younger sister traveled with her. Almost a complete carbon copy of her with the exception of a long tail ending in a crescent-shaped tip and black twisted horns that jetted out of her head beneath her pigtails. She struggled against Shadowheart's grasp as she desperately attempted to come to her sister's aid.
However, glancing over at the other two caused him to lose his guard for a moment. The air genasi gained the upper hand and switched their positions, baring her teeth at him.
The details of this memory that remained engraved in his mind were her large doe eyes, golden and blazing like the shimmering sun and the plump strawberry lips that rested just below her nose twisted in a scowl. She was a protector. He needed a protector.
"Who the fuck do you think you are? I knew I should've better than to help a lowly noble like you," she growled, pressing the dagger further against the vampire spawn's neck. "You're all the same."
"You know nothing about me," Astarion spat back, holding her intense gaze.
"And neither do you about me." The air genasi gave him one last deadly glare before slightly loosening the pressure of the blade against his neck. "I'm going to remove this dagger from your throat. If you so much as think about retaliating, you will cease to exist. Do you understand?"
The vampire spawn held her gaze for a few more moments before finally nodding. He rose to his feet as soon as the blade was casted aside. The two adventurers continued to stare each other down as they caught their breaths.
Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in both of their minds. It freaked them out once they realized they had accidentally caused a link to peer into each other's minds, seeing short, indecipherable glimpses of each other's memories.
Astarion witnessed flashes of images. Two older air genasi, faces scrunched up in rage, gestured angrily at the door of a hut. The air genasi's younger sister getting sliced in the face with the full force of a whip. Then, the younger sister again, unconscious, yet resting on the back of a large animal with soft sapphire fur.
When the images stopped, the vampire spawn opened his crimson orbs as he and the air genasi continued to pant from the short, yet exhausting experience.
"You're really not like them," he muttered, crimson eyes widening slightly in realization.
The genasi scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course, I'm not. Instead of attacking someone right away, maybe you should be a little more perceptive."
Astarion briefly narrowed his eyes at her comment before taking a breath. "Well, I'm guessing that's all behind us now, hmm?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that-"
"And here I was about ready to decorate the ground with your innards," the vampire spawn interrupted her with a wave of his hand and a sardonic smile. "Apologies."
The genasi raised an eyebrow, unamused at his sad excuse of an apology. She rolled her eyes once again and uncrossed her arms, moving them to her hips.
"Where are my manners?" Astarion continued in a voice so charming, it sounded almost fake. "My name's Astarion. I was in Baldur's Gate when those beasts snatched me."
"Well since we're apparently on good terms now after you blatantly tried to slit my throat..."
Astarion shrugged his shoulders with a bit of an amused smile.
"I'm Skye. That's my little sister, Misty and that's Shadowheart." As she pointed to each of them, Misty shot him a mischievous smirk while Shadowheart continued to glare at him.
"Wonderful!" the vampire spawn exclaimed with a clasp of his hands. "Now, what do you know of these tadpoles in our heads?"
Skye let out a deep sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I would assume just as much as you do, which is practically nothing."
"I figured as much."
Upon realizing Astarion wasn't as much a threat as an annoyance, Shadowheart finally let go of Misty's arm. The young girl ran over to her sister, who eyed her with a warning.
Misty ignored it, the mischievous grin on her face only growing. "You know, Skye, I think we need all the help we can get. I quite like him."
Skye shot a blazing glare at her mini-me. Meanwhile, Astarion grew rather amused by the interaction.
The older air genasi pulled her sister aside by the arm and scolded her out of earshot. "Did you forget that just minutes ago he held a blade to my throat?"
Shrugging her shoulders, Misty donned a look of indifference. "He said he was sorry."
Skye let out an exasperated groan as she ran her fingers through her hair. "This is where you're so difficult, Mist. We need to be careful. We need to watch our backs."
"We need a group of people to fight alongside us," Misty countered, glancing back over at Astarion, who was obviously trying to read their lips. "Shadowheart's already on our side, I don't think one more would hurt. Plus, if either of them turn against us, we'll just kill them. Easy, peasy."
Two firm hands wrapped around the younger genasi's wrists in frustration. Skye knelt to Misty's level, loosening the grip around her as she took a deep breath. "My job is to protect you. That's what I'm trying to do."
"You want to protect me, Skye? We need a team. They need a cure...I mean so do we, but that's beside the point-"
"Misty," Skye warned sternly.
"If you've taught me anything, sis...it's that anyone is stronger with a team. Maybe you should take a hint of your own advice."
Skye continued the staring contest for a moment before finally giving in with another loud groan. She whipped her head to the rogue. "Astarion, would you like to join us?" she deadpanned.
The vampire spawn's ears twitched at the question as another sardonic smirk crept onto his face. "You know, I was going to go at this alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn't such a bad idea." Astarion's hands found his hips as he gave her a halfhearted bow. "Alright, I accept. Lead on."
Skye began walking again as he followed. Mischievous as ever, Misty trailed back with Shadowheart. "They're gonna get married one day. I just know it," she quipped before scurrying further ahead, unaware of the confused, yet somewhat amused look on the cleric's face.
-----------------------------
For a child, the little wisp wasn't bad company. She was witty, sarcastic, and clever beyond her years. Astarion was never a fan of children. He found them to be quite pestering. Yet, this one was different.
By dusk, they managed to corral a whole group of misfits. A wizard who got himself stuck in his own portal and a fighter who apparently hated their cleric's guts already. According to Skye, they'd met the gith on the ship before it crashed, where the odd rivalry began.
After they set up camp, the little wisp decided to cause some mischief. Gale was drinking a bottle of Stagswift Tonic outside of his tent when Skye summoned him. Out of the corner of his eye, Astarion watched as the younger air genasi stealthily grabbed the opened bottle and dumped out the contents, replacing it with the dirty dishwater from their last meal.
The corners of the vampire spawn's mouth twitched in amusement as the little wisp scurried away, hiding behind a tree to witness the result of her harmless prank. Astarion pretended to be invested in the tome he was reading as the wizard returned to his tent and picked up the bottle.
As soon as the liquid hit his mouth, Gale's face turned a sickly shade of green. He spat it out in front of him, unaware of the stifled chuckles coming from beside the tree. Once the wizard regained his composure, he cleared his throat. "Very funny," he remarked dryly, scoping around for the possible culprit.
When he finally turned his back to the tree, the little wisp sprinted towards her tent and flew inside. Crimson eyes roamed the camp once again to find the older air genasi sneaking off into the clearing behind their camp. Intrigued, Astarion closed his tome and followed.
-----------------------------
Skye moved silently through the dense forest, her breath mingling with the evening mist. The trees stood tall and proud, their branches weaving a canopy that obscured the sky, but she knew where she was going. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl were the only sounds that accompanied her. Her air genasi heritage granted her an ethereal grace, making her one with the wind as she moved. She followed the faintest hints of light, the barely perceptible whispers of the breeze guiding her steps.
Finally, she emerged into a clearing. The sky opened up above her, a vast expanse of deep blue velvet studded with countless stars. The moon hung low, casting a silver glow over the meadow, illuminating the soft grass and wildflowers that danced gently in the night air. Skye smiled, her eyes reflecting the starlight as she made her way to the center of the clearing. She lay down on the grass, her cerulean curls fanning out around her, and gazed up at the sky. Peace at last.
"Isn't it beautiful?"
Skye rolled her eyes at the sound of his irritatingly charming voice. She refused to look at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the stars.
"The stars, I mean. They're not nearly this bright in Baldur's Gate."
The air genasi sighed. "Can't say I've ever been there."
Astarion clicked his tongue, nodding his head. "Ah, right. The life of a druid." He approached Skye cautiously, gesturing beside her with a graceful flourish of his hand. "May, I?"
Golden eyes flickered to crimson for the briefest moment before landing back on the illuminating sight above. "Knock your socks off," she replied dryly.
The vampire spawn lowered himself next to her, crossing his legs in a pretzel. "You know, darling, we both got off on the wrong foot."
"I wonder why." Skye glared at him, the sun in her eyes blazing deep into his own. She studied him, noticing how he attempted to conceal the slight discomfort of his body language.
A soft chuckle escaped from his lips, causing a weird feeling to grow in the pit of the air genasi's stomach. "I suppose you prove a point."
It was at that point she noticed it. The crimson eyes. The pale complexion. At first glance, she thought he was an elf hybrid. Yet, those teeth. Those pointed teeth. As she continued to study him, she watched the little color he had disappear from his face. "You're a vampire, aren't you?"
Astarion blinked at her. "I'm sorry, what are-"
The air genasi's brow rose in slight amusement as he tried to deflect. "You aren't exactly doing a great job at hiding it."
"I'm not a monster. I feed on animals - boars, deer, kobolds-"
"Kobolds might be a bit of a stretch," Skye quipped with a hint of a smirk as the vampire spawn shrugged. She took a deep breath. "Listen, Misty and I...we didn't come from a great place and honestly, we've been through a lot. She's the only person that matters to me. So, I'll make a deal with you. I'll keep your secret, but if I catch those fangs anywhere near my sister's neck, I will kill you. Do you understand?"
Astarion met her gaze evenly, his crimson eyes unflinching. "You have my word," he replied.
There was a pause between them, yet it wasn't the awkward kind. It was quite peaceful, in fact. Skye drew in a breath as she returned her gaze to the stars. "How are you...able to walk in the sun? I thought vampires couldn't do that."
"It's true. Normally, I would burn to ashes by now, but it seems my tadpole has other plans."
The air genasi didn't respond, but nodded her head instead.
After another moment of silence, Astarion spoke up again. "You've hardly torn your gaze from the stars since I arrived."
"Jealous that my eyes are drawn elsewhere?"
"Well, obviously, darling. I'm the most beautiful thing to ever exist."
Skye scoffed softly, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Keep telling yourself that."
Astarion let out a genuine chuckle without a hint of his usual insincerity. "Oh, I do, constantly. It's one of the perks of being me."
They laughed again before Skye took a deep breath and pointed to the illuminated night sky. "I draw my power from them. There are many secrets hidden among different constellations."
The air genasi pulled a dark blue crystal from her pocket and held it in one hand. She waved her free hand around it, generating an orb of golden light. Constellations began to project around them as soon as the light clashed with the crystal. Skye dispelled her magic and put the crystal away. "I've been studying this for twenty years. I don't really need it anymore. It's more so for Misty, now." She finally met Astarion's eyes, who was sporting an unreadable expression. Skye cleared her throat. "Speaking of, I should be getting back before she starts causing trouble."
"Oh, don't worry, darling, I can assure you it's already happened," Astarion commented with a cheeky smile as the air genasi slapped her forehead. They both rose to their feet. "I would say I'd return to camp with you, but I've yet to hunt."
Skye nodded with a soft smile and pivoted on her foot. "Goodnight, Astarion. I'll see you in the morning."
The vampire spawn watched her retreating figure until she disappeared into the darkness, his thoughts a whirl of contemplation. That went a lot better than he expected. To be honest, he didn't know what to expect when she discovered his true nature. He had braced himself for hostility, for rejection, even for violence. But Skye had surprised him. She had listened, assessed, and then made a decision based on more than just instinctual fear.
Not only had she lightened up around him after he promised not to harm her sister, but she had also shared a glimpse of her druidic magic with him—the dark blue crystal, the way it resonated with the starlight and projected constellations. It was a small gesture, but for someone as guarded as Skye, it spoke volumes. It was the beginning of trust.
Maybe she could be of some use after all, but she would never put him before the little wisp. Yet, she had shown a glimpse of trust, however tentative, and that sparked an idea—a plan.
"A nice, simple plan," Astarion murmured to himself, as if speaking the words aloud would solidify his resolve.
He would get her to fall for him.
The thought lingered in his mind, both audacious and calculated. If Skye developed genuine feelings for him, she would protect him, just as fiercely as she protected her sister. It seemed like a foolproof strategy—or so he thought...
Rating: Mature
Word count: 2.2k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, starving Astarion, hurt/comfort, fluff
Summary: Ruby realizes Astarion hasn't fed since they left the Underdark.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
What am I supposed to do, but sink my teeth in you?
I starve without you on my lips, I die without the taste of it
What am I supposed to be when you sink your teeth in me?
'Cause I live for the way you move, I'd die without the taste of you
~Taste of You, Rezz (feat. Dove Cameron)
--------------------------------------
His lips are dry. Eyes have deeper circles. To any wandering eye, Astarion looked as if he had a very long night, but that was far from the truth. In reality, he was starving. He hadn't fed since they wandered into these cursed lands. And it finally started to take a toll on his body.
Though it had been a few days since Raphael kept his promise and revealed the meaning behind his scars, the thoughts surrounding it were fresh as if engrained in his mind. He had been so focused on them that it was hard to think about anything else. Cazador planned to sacrifice him and the other spawn to become the most powerful vampire lord that ever existed. If Astarion could take that power somehow, he would be able to protect himself. Protect Ruby...and of course, the others who he won't admit are the closest he has ever had to friends.
He mindlessly followed Ruby up the stairs to their shared room, crimson eyes staring off into space. He didn't notice her at first when she turned to face him with a concerned look. It took the tender caress of her hands on his face to break him out of his thoughts.
The dhampir thumbed his face, analyzing it carefully. Astarion blinked once. Twice. "What are you doing, darling?"
Ruby furrowed her brows as she continued her analysis. "When's the last time you've fed?"
When the vampire spawn didn't respond, she removed her hands from his face as he felt the sudden loss of her lukewarm touch. She crossed her arms and gave him a skeptical look. "Astarion..."
He looked at her blankly, trying to figure out a good counter to diffuse her impending anger.
Then, it was as if she had read his mind. "You haven't fed since the Underdark."
It wasn't a question, but a realization. He could see the frustration building up in her intense gaze. The way she tightened her grip on her arms. He could hear her blood pumping faster and faster. It drove him insane.
"Don't you ever do that again!" the dhampir shouted as tears began to well up in her eyes.
Astarion gazed into her violet orbs, confusion etched into his brows. "I'm quite alright, darling. Truly, there's no need to worry."
Ruby let out a frustrated grunt. "You might be able to fool the others, but not me. Don't forget, I'm half-vampire, too!" She turned her back toward him, hiding the tears that threatened to spill over as she held herself tighter. "I know what happens when you go through that kind of withdrawal. If we were able to find a blood source for me, we can find one for you, too." She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm so stupid. I didn't even-"
A loud sigh escaped Astarion's mouth, drowning out her mumbling as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Then I would be depleting you of yours. Untainted blood is a rare find down here. Honestly, any blood at all is." He approached the dhampir slowly and gently touched her arm as he walked around to face her. "You are our leader, my love. We need you at your best." He moved his hand to her cheek and wiped away a stray tear.
The dhampir shook her head, golden curls following every beat. "But I need you. Astarion, please," she grabbed both of his hands and squeezed them tightly. "Just take a little. You need it."
"But what about you?" the vampire spawn whispered, concern flooding his features.
"I'll be okay," Ruby mouthed back with a wistful smile. Before Astarion could respond, she guided him to their bed and crawled in it, sprawling out on her back and tilting her neck to the side. She watched patiently as the vampire spawn hesitated. "I promise."
Astarion was worried. Her blood was intoxicating, and he was concerned about the feral part of him taking control. The hunger within him was a beast, constantly gnawing at his sanity, threatening to break free. The thought of draining her dry, of the life slipping from her eyes because of his uncontrollable thirst, filled him with dread. He hadn't fed from her since they entered the Underdark and, to be honest, he missed the taste of her—the rich, unique essence that was hers alone.
He cautiously climbed onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. Hovering over her, he could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.
The dhampir gave him a reassuring smile, gazing into his crimson orbs. "Hi."
The twitch of his lips couldn't be contained as he returned it, bending down to nuzzle into her neck. "Are you sure about this, darling?" He could feel the slight tremor in his hands as he held her, the battle between his desire and his fear raging within him.
Ruby let out a content sigh and nodded her head. "Of course." She giggled as Astarion kissed her cheek, the light brush of his lips tickling her skin. The sound was like music to his ears, a balm to his troubled heart.
Then, he kissed her forehead, a gesture of affection and reverence. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, and he could feel her pulse quickening in anticipation. Moving lower, he captured her lips in a tender kiss, savoring the softness and the sweet taste of her.
He began trailing kisses down her neck. He could sense her relaxation, the way she melted into his touch, and it gave him the courage to continue. His lips continued to brush over the sensitive skin until he found the weak pulse point that called to him like a siren.
"Never stop that, my sweet," the vampire spawn whispered against her neck.
"Stop what?" Ruby's voice was soft, her breath hitching slightly as she relished the coolness of his lips on her skin.
"Laughing. It's one of my favorite sounds next to this one." His words were laced with a seductive undertone, a promise of what was to come. Before she could respond, in one fluid movement, Astarion sunk his fangs into her skin.
The dhampir gasped, the sudden sharpness of his bite sending a thrill through her body. Her fingers instinctively found his curls, tangling in the silky white strands and lightly tugging at the ones at the nape of his neck. The sensation of his fangs piercing her flesh was both painful and euphoric, a paradox that she had come to crave.
As Astarion began to suck her blood, a primal hunger driving him, they both began to breathe heavily. His feeding was a dance of control and desire, his lips and tongue working in tandem to draw out her life essence while savoring each drop. Ruby's pulse quickened, and she could feel her blood rushing to the surface, answering his silent call.
The vampire spawn's hand slipped around her waist, pulling her closer, his grip possessive yet gentle. He could feel the rhythmic throb of her heartbeat through his fangs.
Ruby's grip tightened for a moment before it began to loosen. The sudden slackening of her hold sent a jolt of fear through Astarion. His undead heart raced, and panic surged through him as he realized she was slipping into unconsciousness. He stopped feeding at once, pulling away from her neck as if her skin had burned him. His crimson eyes widened in alarm, desperately seeking her gaze.
Her eyes fluttered open, tired and unfocused, but they found his with a flicker of recognition. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, and he sighed, his body trembling from the intensity of his fear. He had come too close to losing her, the thought of which sent a shiver down his spine.
With a sense of urgency, Astarion reached for the nightstand drawer and retrieved a small vial of boar blood. He popped the cork from the vial and gently lifted Ruby's head, bringing the vial to her lips. "Drink, my love," he murmured as he poured the thick, dark liquid into her mouth.
Although her eyes were still dreary, the color slowly began to return to her face. She swallowed the blood in small, measured sips, her body instinctively responding to the nourishment. Astarion watched her intently, his eyes never leaving her face, his anxiety gradually ebbing away.
As she finished the vial, a wide smile spread across her lips, a sign of her recovery. The sight of it was like a balm to Astarion's frayed nerves, and he couldn't help but return the smile, albeit shakily.
"See, I told you I'd be okay. How do you feel?"
Astarion brushed a stray hair from her face. "That doesn't matter. How do you feel, Ruby?"
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. She grasped the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer. Their faces were inches apart, and Ruby's eyes sparkled with warmth and affection. She pressed her lips to his in a gentle, reassuring kiss. "Grateful," she mouthed against him, her voice barely more than a whisper.
It took the vampire spawn mere seconds to respond, his worry melting away in the heat of the moment. He returned her kiss with a passion that had been tempered by fear and now released in a wave of relief and love. Their kiss deepened, a fervent dance of lips and tongues, as they both sighed and giggled like two lovestruck teenagers discovering each other for the first time.
Their connection was electric, each touch and caress amplifying the bond they shared. They lost themselves in the moment, their kisses becoming more insistent, more desperate. Ruby's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer still, while Astarion's hands roamed her back.
Neither of them needed to part for breath, their vampiric nature allowing them to savor the moment without the constraints of mortality. The world outside their embrace ceased to exist; there was only the warmth and softness of each other's lips, the mutual exchange of love and reassurance.
But as the minutes went by, reality began to creep back in. The Shadowfell loomed ahead, a dangerous and foreboding realm that demanded their full attention and strength. They could kiss all night, lost in each other's embrace, but it wouldn't change the challenges they would face come dawn.
Reluctantly, Astarion broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, his breathing heavy and uneven. "As much as I'd love to stay like this forever, we need to rest," he murmured. "We have a long day ahead of us."
The dhampir nodded, her own breath ragged and her lips swollen from their kisses. "I know," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. "But it was worth it."
Astarion chuckled softly, pressing a final, lingering kiss to her lips. "Every second," he agreed. He lay down beside her, pulling the soft blankets over them. As he held her close, he could feel her heartbeat gradually slow.
They lay there in the quiet darkness, the threat of the Shadowfell a distant worry compared to the warmth of this moment. The vampire spawn's arms tightened around Ruby, his determination to protect her stronger than ever.
But with that determination came a deep-rooted worry. Once Cazador realizes Ruby's not buried under six feet of dirt, he'll be after her too. He needed to find a way to take the vampire lord's place in the ritual. Who cares if it destroys the other spawn in the process? They were never there for him anyway. Ruby, however, had been his guiding light since they met and she was worth infinitely more than the likes of them combined.
They didn't discuss much after Raphael finally spilled the beans. Ruby must have assumed he wanted his space to think...and he did. He really did. He thought hard...but the conclusion was always the same. Hopefully, the dhampir would understand. Surely, she would, right?
The vampire spawn nuzzled into the crook of her neck, thumbing her arm draped loosely over his around her abdomen. He planted a gentle kiss to her jawline. The dhampir hummed. "Aren't you the one who said we needed rest?" she murmured teasingly with a raised brow though her eyes remained shut.
"I was just...thinking," Astarion began cautiously.
Ruby let out a small chuckle and turned over in his arms, finally opening her lids to reveal the beautiful amethyst orbs hidden beneath. "You seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Seems rather dangerous to me, my love."
"True," he purred, pulling her closer to him. He gazed lovingly into her eyes, affection flooding his crimson orbs. "I have an idea. Now, before you say anything, just hear me out, darling."
"Okay?" An amused smirk made its way to Ruby's lips as she let out another soft chuckle.
"What if...we could find a way for me to ascend in Cazador's place?"
Yet, her reaction was not what he was expecting. For the first time, Astarion saw fear clouding her features directed at him.
Rating: Mature
Word count: 2k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, brief mentions of Astarion's backstory
Summary: Ruby accidentally says the big three to Astarion.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
Maybe won't you take it back?
Say you were tryna make me laugh
And nothing has to change today
You didn't mean to say "I love you"
I love you and I don't want to, ooh
~i love you, Billie Eilish
----------------------------------------
In the wake of Ruby's close brush with death, Astarion found himself grappling with emotions he had long kept at bay. The incident had stirred something within him, a protective instinct that he couldn't quite shake off. Despite his best efforts to maintain his detached facade, the truth remained undeniable – her safety had become a paramount concern to him.
But such vulnerabilities were not something he would readily admit to. Astarion was adept at concealing his true feelings behind a veil of nonchalance and indifference. Yet, in the quiet depths of his mind, he couldn't deny the unsettling reality of caring for another. It was like navigating through the flickering flames of uncertainty, simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying, yet undeniably compelling.
The recent trial orchestrated by Shar had only served to underscore the depth of Astarion's newfound attachment. Confronted with mirror versions of themselves, each step laden with perilous consequences, he found himself teetering on the edge of recklessness. When Ruby's mirrored reflection threatened her with a malevolent grin and a gleaming blade poised at her throat, all semblance of rationality fled. In that moment, there was only the instinctive need to protect, to ensure her safety at any cost.
Without a second thought, he drew an arrow from his quiver, the tension coiling in his muscles as he took aim. The reflection shattered into a thousand fractured shards.
As their eyes locked in a tense gaze, Astarion braced himself for the inevitable torrent of words that would surely follow. The sharp pang that lanced through his abdomen served as a grim reminder of the repercussions of his impulsive actions. Ignoring the searing pain, he pressed on, engaging his mirrored counterpart in a half-assed duel, his movements hampered by the throbbing ache in his gut.
With each clash of steel against steel, he felt the weight of his own folly bearing down upon him. The fight was a precarious dance of survival, teetering on the edge of disaster with every misstep. Despite his best efforts to maintain the upper hand, the odds seemed stacked against him, each close call a stark reminder of his own mortality.
Yet, through sheer determination and a measure of luck, Astarion eventually gained the advantage, delivering the decisive blow that shattered his reflection into a myriad of fragmented pieces. As the echoes of the clash faded into the ether, he found himself gasping for breath, his body aching from the exertion.
It was then that Shadowheart, ever the vigilant healer, rushed to his side, her hands glowing with the soft radiance of restorative magic. With a whispered incantation, she began to mend his wounds.
But any respite was short-lived as Ruby stormed towards them, her expression a tempest of fury and concern. Sensing the impending storm, the cleric swiftly retreated, leaving Astarion to face the brunt of Ruby's wrath alone. With a resigned sigh, he prepared himself for the inevitable onslaught of words, knowing all too well that he had brought this upon himself.
Despite the adorable sight of the petite rogue's pouting expression and crossed arms, there was an undeniable fierceness in the glint of her violet drow-like eyes. Astarion couldn't help but admire the fire that flickered in them.
"I had it under control," she muttered under her breath, barely audible once Shadowheart had retreated out of earshot.
The vampire spawn couldn't suppress the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. "Oh, really? Darling, I hardly count having a dagger pressed to your throat as having it under control."
The playful banter faded as quickly as it had emerged, replaced by the weight of the situation at hand. Ruby's expression hardened, her gaze boring into his with unwavering intensity.
"This isn't a joke, Astarion," she retorted, her tone edged with frustration. "Shadowheart made it very clear – to attack our own reflections and that's it."
Astarion's smile faltered, his facade slipping to reveal the vulnerability that lurked beneath the surface. He ran a hand through his tousled hair.
"After you shattered my reflection, you were in pain. It hurt you-"
A bitter chuckle escaped Astarion's lips at Ruby's observation, the sound carrying the weight of two centuries of pain and suffering. "I'm used to it," he replied curtly, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. Without waiting for a response, he turned away from her, the distance between them widening with each measured step.
But Ruby was not one to let things lie. With determination etched into every line of her face, she quickened her pace, her hand shooting out to grasp his arm in a vice-like grip. "That's not an excuse," she insisted, her voice rising in volume with each word. "You should've listened to Shadowheart! You could've died-"
A surge of frustration welled up within Astarion, his patience wearing thin beneath the weight of her relentless admonishments. "What the hells do you want me to say, Ruby?!" he erupted, the words tumbling from his lips in a torrent of emotion. He watched as her features softened, the fire in her eyes giving way to a flicker of concern.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the vampire spawn attempted to collect his thoughts amidst the chaos of his roiling emotions. "I don't know what this is between us," he admitted, his voice quieter now, laced with an undercurrent of vulnerability. "But I do know that you are quite possibly the first person I've ever truly cared for. I watched you die once. I won't let it happen again."
Tears welled in the dhampir's eyes, glistening like diamonds as she struggled to contain the overwhelming surge of emotion that threatened to engulf her.
"How do you think I'd feel if something happened to you?!" she shouted, her voice trembling with raw intensity. It was a question borne of desperation.
But Astarion's response was not one of comfort or reassurance. Instead, it was a guttural growl of frustration, a reflection of the turmoil that churned within him. "Why do you care so deeply for me, Ruby?" he demanded. "I'm nothing more than a mere speck of dust. Yet, you act as though your entire world would crumble if I were to perish."
The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the vast expanse that separated them – not just in terms of their origins, but in the depths of their own self-worth. For Astarion, centuries of existence had left him hollow and jaded, his heart encased in layers of icy indifference. To him, Ruby's concern remained a foreign concept, an anomaly that defied all logic and reason.
"Because I love you." Her words came out before she thought about what she was saying.
For a moment, Astarion froze, his features a mask of disbelief and uncertainty. Love? The word echoed in the recesses of his mind, a concept that clashed with everything he had been taught. Love was a weakness, a vulnerability to be exploited by those who sought to manipulate and control. A pretty little lie.
And yet, as he looked into Ruby's eyes, he couldn't shake the gnawing sense of doubt that crept into his heart. Why did this feel different? Why did her words stir something within him that he had long sought to bury?
Uncomfortable with the intensity of her confession, Astarion shifted uneasily. "No, don't say that," he pleaded, his voice tinged with a note of desperation. It was a reflexive response, born out of years of conditioning and self-preservation.
But even as the words left his lips, a part of him couldn't help but wonder – what if? What if love wasn't the weakness he had always believed it to be? What if, against all odds, he allowed himself to embrace the possibility of something more?
Ruby tugged at her hair in frustration, the golden strands slipping through her fingers like strands of silk. "Gods, why did I say that?" she muttered to herself. "I'm so stupid."
Turning back towards Astarion, she caught the flicker of fear in his eyes, a mirror reflecting her own uncertainty and vulnerability. It was a stark reminder of the weight of her words, of the power they held to unravel the delicate balance between them.
"Just forget I said anything," she implored, her voice softening with resignation. "I didn't mean it." She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her body tightly as if seeking solace in the warmth of her own embrace.
But as Astarion watched her retreat into herself, a pang of empathy pierced through the armor of indifference he had spent centuries constructing. It almost hurt him to see her this way – curled into herself in embarrassment, her spirit dampened by the weight of her own insecurities.
In that moment, he longed to reach out to her, to offer her the comfort and reassurance she so desperately needed. But he hesitated, the fear of vulnerability clawing at the edges of his consciousness. For to acknowledge her confession was to confront the unsettling truth that perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't as immune to love as he had once believed.
"Yes, you did," he finally admitted softly. "I can hear it, you know. The way your usually quiet heart is now pounding against your chest." As he approached her, Ruby found herself unable to tear her gaze away from him, her eyes locking with his in a silent exchange of understanding and unspoken truths. "I just don't understand why."
For a moment, the dhampir hesitated, her own emotions pressing down upon her like a leaden weight. But as she met his gaze, she found the courage to speak the words that had long lingered unspoken in the recesses of her heart.
"You're not as bad of a person as you think you are, Astarion," she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet conviction. "You deserve happiness. You deserve to be loved. You are loved by everyone here."
Their gazes remained locked in a silent exchange. And in that fleeting moment, Ruby saw beyond the facade of the vampire spawn before her, glimpsing the fragile heart that beat beneath the surface.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she extended a shaky hand towards him, an offering of solidarity and support. He hesitated, his reluctance palpable in the air between them, before finally yielding to her touch.
"You're bruised, but you're not broken," she reassured him, her voice a whisper against the backdrop of the night.
In the stillness of the moment, Astarion found himself acutely aware of the proximity between them, the space between their bodies narrowing until it seemed to vanish altogether. Her shaky breaths brushed against his lips like a whispered caress, each exhale stirring something primal within him that he struggled to contain.
As the tension crackled in the air between them, a single tear traced a silent path down Ruby's cheek, glistening like a diamond in the moonlight. It was a tangible reminder of the fragility of their shared moment, a testament to the depth of emotion that simmered beneath the surface.
Without conscious thought, Astarion moved closer, his undead heart pounding in rhythm with the rapid beat of hers. And then, in one swift movement, he closed the distance between them, capturing her trembling lips with his own.
In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the world around them fading into obscurity as they surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire. Their lips moved in a dance as old as time itself, a symphony of passion and longing that echoed through the depths of their souls.
And as a tear fell from Ruby's eye, slipping between their parted lips like a bittersweet confession, Astarion felt something within him shift. It was as if the barriers he had spent centuries constructing had finally crumbled, leaving him vulnerable and exposed before her.
In the quiet depths of the night, as he surrendered himself to the tender embrace of her kiss, he knew that he would never be the same again.
Rating: Mature
Word count: 1k
Pairing: Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, brief mentions of Astarion's backstory
Summary: Ruby finds out what Astarion’s original intentions were for her before he can even tell her.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
You built a giant castle
With walls so high I couldn't see
The way it all unraveled
And all the things you did to me
You lied, you lied, you lied, oh
~Logical, Olivia Rodrigo
--------------------------------
It was supposed to be a fun night, just the two of them. A brief respite from the shadows surrounding them, yet it never lasted. They were laughing, sharing a bottle of wine, and reminiscing about their adventures when Astarion excused himself for a moment and left the room.
Ruby never meant to eavesdrop when she got up to grab another bottle of wine from the cellar, but Karlach's voice boomed through the inn, her words echoing down the narrow hallway.
"YOU DID WHAT?!"
"Karlach, keep it down," Astarion whispered urgently, glancing nervously around and gesturing with his hands in a vain attempt to calm her.
The tiefling's flames burned a little hotter, her horns almost glowing as anger flooded her veins. "So you're telling me you were just using poor Rubes for protection?"
Ruby froze at the top of the stairs, her heart pounding in her chest. She clutched the neck of the empty wine bottle tighter, her mind racing. Using her? What did Karlach mean? Her stomach churned as she strained to hear Astarion's response.
"Well, at first, but—"
That was the moment she made her presence known. Steeling herself, Ruby walked right into his field of vision, her steps deliberate and heavy with the weight of what she'd overheard. She watched as his crimson eyes grew wide with shock and a hint of fear. Her own eyes began to well up, a mixture of hurt and betrayal swirling within them.
"Ruby, I—" Astarion started, his voice cracking under the pressure of the moment, but Ruby cut him off with a sharp, pained look.
Karlach's flames died down, her intense anger giving way to a deep, gnawing guilt. She slowly backed away, feeling the heat of the confrontation that was about to unfold. Her heart ached for Ruby, knowing the pain her friend was experiencing, but she also knew that this was a moment they had to face head-on.
Ruby took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Is it true, Astarion?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Have you been using me this whole time? Was everything we shared a lie?"
"It started that way," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But everything changed. You have to believe me, Ruby."
Ruby shook her head, tears now streaming down her cheeks. "How can I believe you now? How can I trust anything you say when you've been lying to me all along?"
Astarion took a step towards her, his hand reaching out as if to comfort her, but she recoiled, the hurt too fresh and raw.
"This whole time, I've been just a tool at your disposal?"
"No, darling." Astarion sighed, frustration lining his features as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why couldn't you have just stayed upstairs?" he muttered to himself, the words slipping out in his exasperation.
"Okay, explain to me what Karlach meant, then." Ruby's voice grew stronger, anger replacing her initial shock. "You were just using me for protection? After I promised you numerous times that I would never leave your side? After I TOLD you that my plan was to always go after Cazador?"
For once, Astarion was at a loss for words. His usual quick wit and silver tongue failed him. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Ruby scoffed, a bitter sound escaping her lips as she began to turn away, feeling the sting of his betrayal deepen. But before she could take another step, he grabbed her arms, gently but firmly, and turned her back to face him.
"I don't feel that way anymore, if that's what you're thinking, my sweet."
"Were you ever planning to tell me?" Ruby's eyes shone with disbelief as she ripped her arms away from him, the physical distance reflecting the emotional chasm that had opened between them.
"Yes. No. I don't know, alright?" Astarion let out an exasperated sigh, his frustration evident as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "I was going to ask Karlach for advice, but—"
"So, there's a chance you were never going to tell me?"
Astarion fell silent for a moment, the weight of her accusation hanging heavily in the air.
Ruby scoffed again, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe this," she muttered, more to herself than to him. She took a step back, putting more distance between them. "All this time, I thought we were building something real. Whatever it was. I thought you trusted me, Astarion."
"Well, can you blame me? Everyone I've ever trusted has quite literally stabbed me in the back." Astarion's voice carried the weight of past betrayals, each syllable tinged with bitterness and pain.
"I don't care why you did it," Ruby continued, her gaze unwavering as she met his eyes. "I feel like I've been lied to. Why weren't you honest with me way before now? If you care about me like you say you do, why did you even consider the thought of never telling me?"
Astarion's shoulders slumped, his defenses crumbling under the weight of her words. "Because of this!" he snapped, his frustration boiling over as he gestured around them, encompassing the world of uncertainty and danger they inhabited. "I was worried that something like this would happen. That you would walk away and never look back. I need you, Ruby, but not just for protection."
He took a deep breath, his words faltering as he struggled to articulate the tangled mess of emotions inside him. "It's quite confusing actually. I don't really know—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Ruby's arms were wrapped around him, her embrace offering comfort and reassurance. "I would never do that to you, Astarion," she whispered, her voice filled with sincerity.
He hesitated for a moment, his mind still clouded with doubt and fear, but then he returned her embrace, clinging to her as if she were the lifeline keeping him from drowning in the darkness.
Unbroken Chains (Chapter 1: The Ring of Daybreak's Embrace)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 1.2k
Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, self-deprecation
Summary: After defeating the Netherbrain, Astarion, Delphie, and Arabella set out on a trek to find the Ring of Daybreak's Embrace, a magical item that will allow the vampire spawn to walk in the sun once again. However, Delphie's past catches up with her as two hags from the Hourglass Coven track her down, endangering the lives of those she cares for the most.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
It's been almost two weeks since they defeated the Netherbrain. Since they were freed from the parasite. Since he was bound to the shadows once again.
But Delphie made him a promise. She would help him find a way to walk in the sun again. If there's no cure, at least there's that.
Gale, although still in his pursuit of the Crown of Karsus, offered to help them out. He found the artifact and its location. Before they left, he gave them a scroll of sending just in case they had any questions along the way.
It was a kind gesture from the wizard, Astarion will give him that much.
They traverse the expansive lands of Elturgard under the veil of night, their path leading them toward the enchanting depths of the Misty Forest. Just him, Delphie...and the little imp. While he had yearned for some intimate moments alone with his beloved, Arabella's presence disrupts his plans, courtesy of a promise she made to the eager novice.
Amidst the journey, the topic of magic resurfaces in Astarion's mind, spurred by the golden scales interwoven with the scars on his back. Delphie broached the subject upon their return to Last Light, attributing his revival to a peculiar exchange of powers. Alden's act of bringing him back bestowed upon him the same mystical abilities that Delphie possesses.
Yet, magic feels foreign to the vampire spawn, a realm where he struggles to find his footing. His proficiency lies in the art of blades and archery, the tangible weapons of his trade. While he remains willing to assist Delphie when needed, the notion of wielding magic as his primary means of combat feels alien to him, a territory he's uncertain he can navigate with confidence.
A flicker of frustration dances across Astarion's features as he contemplates the presence of Arabella on their journey. He can't shake the notion that if it weren't for the little imp's company, Delphie would devote all her attention to him and his potential for mastering sorcery. Yet, for the past ten days, Arabella has monopolized the wood elf's attention, leaving the vampire spawn to simmer in the shadows as always.
Despite the reassuring grip of Delphie's hand in his, Astarion's gaze drifts towards Arabella, his expression clouded with resentment. There she stands, a picture of innocence and wonder, her eyes wide with curiosity at the world unfolding before her. Yet, to Astarion, her naivety is a source of irritation.
He can't help but scoff inwardly at Arabella's awe-filled demeanor, dismissing her fascination with the landscape around them as trivial.
"Are you nervous?"
The wood elf's voice pierces through the veil of Astarion's thoughts, drawing his attention back to the present moment. Her melodic tones serve as a welcome distraction, prompting him to cast aside his brooding demeanor.
He meets her gaze, finding solace in the warmth that emanates from her emerald eyes. "Not necessarily," he replies, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "But I won't lie and say I won't be disappointed if we can't find it."
Astarion's mind drifts to Gale's words, echoing in his memory with vivid clarity.
'The Ring of Daybreak's Embrace is said to be hidden within the depths of a forgotten crypt, buried beneath the roots of an ancient oak tree deep in the heart of a mist-shrouded forest. Legends speak of a hidden chamber guarded by spectral sentinels, where the ring rests atop an ancient pedestal, awaiting a worthy hand to claim its power.'
A worthy hand? Is his hand worthy enough?
Despite his undeniable progress towards redemption, a lingering sense of guilt continues to plague the vampires spawn. Memories of his past misdeeds weigh heavily on his conscience, casting a dark shadow over his newfound sense of purpose. He grapples with the knowledge that, regardless of the circumstances that led him down a path of darkness, he cannot fully absolve himself of the sins he committed.
In the past, Astarion found solace in his ability to detach himself from the consequences of his actions, numbing his emotions in order to survive. But with Cazador's demise and Delphie's unwavering presence, he can no longer shield himself from the overwhelming tide of emotions that threaten to consume him.
With the wood elf by his side, Astarion finds himself experiencing a depth of emotion he never thought possible. The warmth of her love serves as a beacon of light in the darkness, illuminating the path towards redemption. Yet, it also forces him to confront the full extent of his past transgressions, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.
Lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts, the vampire spawn fails to notice the passage of time until Delphie's gentle touch breaks through the fog of his introspection. "Dretri, what's on your mind?" Her concern is palpable, reflected in the furrow of her brow and the tender caress of her hand against his cheek.
Sensing the need for privacy, Arabella gracefully withdraws, busying herself with the vibrant tapestry of flora that surrounds them.
The rustle of footsteps fade into the distance, leaving the elves ensconced in a cocoon of solitude. Drawing a deep breath to steady his nerves, Astarion tentatively broaches the topic that has been gnawing at his mind.
"Gale mentioned that the ring awaits a worthy hand to claim its power, didn't he?" His voice trembles slightly.
Delphie nods, her curiosity mingling with concern as she reaches out to intertwine her fingers with his own, offering a tether to reality amidst the whirlwind of doubts that threaten to engulf him.
"What if..." Astarion's voice trails off, his words faltering as he grapples with the unsettling notion that has taken root in his mind. "What if I'm not worthy enough?"
A heavy silence hangs between them. The vampire spawn's hand instinctively rises to scratch at his head, a nervous tic betraying the turmoil that churns within him.
In response to his vulnerability, Delphie offers a reassuring squeeze. "You saved an entire city from being turned into mind flayers," she reminds him.
"I'll admit, darling, my reasons weren't exactly as altruistic as yours," Astarion confesses.
"You could've run, but you didn't," the wood elf observes, her voice soft and reassuring. "You stayed and you fought. I think that's pretty worthy, my love."
Her words resonate within Astarion's heart. As she rises on the tips of her toes to press a tender kiss to his lips, he finds himself momentarily lost in the warmth of her embrace.
Despite the fleeting comfort her words provide, Astarion's mind remains clouded by uncertainty. The echoes of his past misdeeds continue to haunt him, casting doubt upon the notion of his own worthiness. Yet, in the quiet intimacy of this moment, he allows himself to bask in the love and acceptance that Delphie offers so freely, if only for a fleeting moment.
"The sun's starting to rise."
As Arabella's voice breaks through the tranquility of the moment, the elves turn their attention towards the horizon, where the first tendrils of dawn begin to paint the sky with hues of rose and gold. The imminent arrival of daylight signals the end of their nocturnal journey, prompting Astarion to draw Delphie closer to him in a tender embrace.
Feeling the warmth of his cold touch, the wood elf leans into him, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she revels in the comfort of his arms. Astarion presses a gentle kiss to her temple. "Time for bed, my sweet."
Fighting for Freedom (Chapter 24: Old Friends, New Beginnings)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 4.7k
Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, a character asks another to end their life before they lose their soul, minor character death
Summary: The party bids farewell to each other after defeating the Netherbrain. Astarion and Delphie have a surprise visitor.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
As the sun gradually creeps over the horizon, casting its golden hues upon the tranquil waters of the Lower City's docks, the companions stand together in a rare moment of peace. Their journey has been fraught with danger and uncertainty, yet here they are.
For moments that feel suspended in time, they bask in the serene beauty of the sunrise, a silent testament to the resilience of their spirits and the strength of their bond. With each passing second, the warm rays of dawn chase away the shadows that linger in the corners of their minds, filling them instead with a sense of hope and renewal.
Amidst the quietude, Shadowheart's voice pierces the stillness, breaking the spell of reverie that had enveloped them.
"I can't feel the tadpole. They must have all died with the brain - that means we can't turn into mind flayers!" Her admission hangs in the air, laden with the weight of their shared fears and uncertainties. Yet, as her gaze meets Orpheus', a subtle blush colors her cheeks. "Not that there's necessarily anything wrong with being a mind flayer, of course..."
Even when my time in the Prism stretched out like eternity - when escape seemed impossible - I never lost hope.
Delphie's smile widens slightly at Orpheus' words, a flicker of admiration dancing in her eyes as she listens intently to his confession.
I knew that my destiny was to liberate my people. To return to them triumphant.
As he glides over to her, she cocks her head curiously. Astarion watches from a distance, his affection for the wood elf evident in the way his heart swells with every small gesture she makes.
"Well, now you can, right?" Delphie asks hopefully, her voice soft and earnest.
Orpheus shakes his head with a heavy sigh.
I was wrong. It seems I can only fulfill one part of my destiny - my people will be liberated, but I cannot return to them. Not like this.
The wood elf's heart sinks as the weight of Orpheus' words settles upon her shoulders like a leaden burden. She knows he's right; the githyanki had resorted to extreme measures when they sought guidance with the tadpoles. He would be better off not returning to them. The realization dawns on her with a chilling clarity, and her soft smile fades into an expression of solemn understanding.
You helped me destroy that abomination. Now help me destroy myself. You must kill me.
Shock courses through Delphie's veins as she watches the mind flayer pull out a sword and extend it toward her, the glint of steel catching the faint light filtering through the shadows. He kneels before her, his gaze steady.
But first, Lae'zel. I need your promise.
As Delphie's gaze shifts back to Lae'zel, she observes a rare glimpse of solemnity in the typically stoic features of the gith warrior.
Carry my hope, carry my burden. Call my dragons, Quulous and Quuthos, and ride to the Astral Sea. Destroy Vlaakith, release our people. Be our future and our legacy.
Lae'zel's gaze flickers uncertainly between Orpheus and Delphie, her eyes searching for some semblance of guidance amidst the weight of the decision laid before her. The wood elf meets her gaze with a mixture of empathy and understanding, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the responsibility that rests upon the gith's shoulders.
"As much as I'd love for you to stay, Lae'zel," she begins, her voice tinged with sorrow, "this decision isn't mine to make. It's yours. Do what you feel is right."
Lae'zel stands in contemplation, the weight of Orpheus' charge pressing heavily upon her shoulders. After a moment of introspection, she nods resolutely, accepting the mantle of responsibility that has been thrust upon her. With a determined step forward, she pledges to carry on Orpheus' legacy, her gaze steely and unwavering as she prepares to embark upon the daunting path that lies ahead.
As the promise is made, Orpheus turns his attention back to Delphie, his eyes searching hers for understanding and acceptance.
Give me my freedom from this form.
Delphie's brows furrow in anguish, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggles to comprehend the enormity of his plea. "You don't deserve to die," she protests.
I will not be ghaik! I did what I did to save my people. The rest is up to them. Someone else must rise within the ranks to lead the revolution against Vlaakith.
Tears begin to well in Delphie's eyes, her heart aching with the weight of Orpheus' sacrifice. Yet, even as her resolve wavers, she knows that she cannot deny him the peace he seeks, the freedom from the shackles of his own creation.
Give me my freedom from this form, release my soul to the Astral Seas while I still have one to call my own.
As the tear slides down Delphie's cheek, her hand trembles as she shakily holds the sword to Orpheus' heart. She hesitates, her breath catching in her throat as uncertainty clouds her thoughts. But then, a single nod from Orpheus is all it takes to steel her resolve.
With a heavy heart, the blade begins its descent. Yet, as it nears its target, the wood elf's grip falters, her strength crumbling beneath the weight of her sorrow. The sword slips from her grasp, clattering to the ground as she collapses to her knees, her sobs echoing through the silence like a mournful lament.
"I'm sorry, Orpheus," she whispers between choked sobs.
Astarion places a comforting hand on her shoulder before retrieving the fallen blade. With a somber gaze, he approaches Orpheus. Shadowheart kneels beside Delphie, offering her solidarity as she clings to her through her tears.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" the vampire spawn asks, his voice tinged with a hint of doubt as he addresses the mind flayer.
Orpheus nods, his gaze steady as he meets Astarion's. With one decisive thrust, he drives the sword through Orpheus' heart, his movements swift yet deliberate as he fulfills the mind flayer's final request.
After a moment of solemn reflection, he retraces his steps back to Delphie. With a gentle gesture, he extends a hand to her. The wood elf accepts his hand gratefully, her fingers intertwining with his as she untangles herself from Shadowheart's embrace, seeking solace in the familiar coolness of Astarion's touch.
She rests her head against his chest, finding a fleeting moment of respite amidst the storm of emotions that threatens to consume her.
Astarion leans his head against hers, his touch a silent reassurance that she is not alone in her grief.
"At least he's no longer suffering, Del," Karlach's voice breaks through the silence from behind them.
Delphie draws in a shaky breath, her tears drying as she nods in agreement. Though the pain of their decision weighs heavily upon her heart, she knows deep down that they made the right choice.
As Lae'zel's call resounds through the air, summoning Quulos, she clings tightly to Astarion. The anticipation mounts as Quulos descends from the heavens, its immense wingspan casting a shadow over the solemn gathering as it touches down before Lae'zel with a graceful thud.
With a solemn reverence, Lae'zel pays her respects to Orpheus, her gaze lingering on his lifeless form for a moment before she ascends onto the dragon's back. Delphie watches from the ground, a mixture of sadness and pride swelling within her.
As Lae'zel glances over at her, the wood elf manages a small, sad smile, accompanied by a gentle wave of farewell. In that moment, something unexpected happens. The gith returns the gesture, a genuine smile gracing her features, warming Delphie's heart in a way she hadn't anticipated. It's a rare sight, seeing Lae'zel show such warmth, and it fills Delphie with a sense of hope amidst the sorrow.
"To the skies!" Lae'zel's voice rings out with determination, a declaration of purpose and resolve. Quulos, ever obedient to his new rider's command, unfurls his wings and takes flight, his powerful form soaring into the boundless expanse of the sky.
They had fought together, suffered together, and now, they part ways, each embarking on their own journey towards an uncertain future.
All around them, the surviving red dragons from the battle with the Netherbrain follow in a majestic procession, their fiery forms a stark contrast against the azure backdrop of the heavens. It's a sight to behold, one that fills the onlookers with a sense of awe and reverence, even amidst the sorrow of their parting.
Astarion sways gently with Delphie in his arms, his gaze fixed on the spectacle unfolding before them. "Now that's a sight to see," he remarks with a wry smile. "Not that I'll miss them."
The wood elf chuckles softly from beneath his head, her voice carrying a warmth that belies the sadness in her heart. "Of course not, dretri," she replies affectionately.
Delphie's attention is drawn to Gale as he shifts toward the water, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon as if searching for something unseen.
"The Crown - it's somewhere in the Chionthar," he muses with a sense of determination that borders on obsession.
"Maybe it's better off there," the wood elf offers cautiously. She knows all too well the dangers of seeking power unchecked, the temptation to grasp at forces beyond one's control.
But the wizard ignores her comment as he continues to speak, his words filled with a fervent longing that sends a chill down her spine. "If I salvage the stones, I could retrieve it. Perhaps even wield it. With the Crown in my hands, I would be unstoppable."
"Oh, Gods. Is this how I sounded when I went on this whole tirade? I truly apologize, darling. This is utterly-" Astarion mutters into the wood elf's ear.
"Infuriating? Annoying? Kinda sad?" she whispers back with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
The vampire spawn glances down at her with a bit of a scowl. "I was going to say cliche..."
Delphie can't help but giggle at his response as she reaches up to boop him on the nose. Astarion scrunches it up.
"Don't be so grumpy. I love you, even when you are brooding," Delphie teases with a gentle smile, her eyes sparkling with warmth and affection.
"Ha-ha, you're so hilarious," Astarion replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes. However, the wood elf's gentle kiss to his chin melts away any lingering tension. "Maybe, if we walk away now, he won't even notice we're gone."
"Astarion!" Delphie chides with a playful smack across his chest.
"What?" he replies with a mask of feigned innocence as he meets her gaze.
Unable to resist the charm of his playful demeanor, the wood elf giggles, her laughter a melodic sound that fills the air around them. "You're a bad influence."
"Oh, I hope so," he quips with a grin. "Now, let's go!"
Astarion playfully drags Delphie away, their laughter trailing behind them as they join the rest of their friends.
"I think a celebration is in order," the wood elf proposes with a bright smile, her emerald eyes alight with anticipation.
"Yes! We should see if the Elfsong's still standing. I won't imbibe, but I'll be happy to be away from here, and in your company," Astarion adds, his gaze lingering on Delphie with a warmth that sends a flutter through her heart.
A playful grin dances across Karlach's lips as she teases, "You two should get a room."
Delphie rolls her eyes at the tiefling's remark, though a playful grin tugs at her lips. "Oh, hush," she retorts.
Astarion chuckles at the exchange, his arms unwrapping from around the wood elf to gently take her hand in his.
As Karlach suddenly falls to her knees, encircled by flames, a collective gasp escapes the lips of those gathered around her. Delphie moves with urgency, dropping to her knees in front of the tiefling, her heart pounding with fear and desperation. Astarion moves to join them, but a firm hand on his shoulder from Shadowheart halts his advance.
"Engine's finally cooked. Held on just long enough." Karlach manages a bitter chuckle, despite the pain that wracks her body. "So? H-how'd I do?"
Delphie's heart breaks at the sight of her friend in agony, tears welling in her eyes as she meets the tiefling's gaze. "You were amazing. One of the greatest," she replies as she offers a sad smile of reassurance.
"So were you, my friend. My companion. I adore you," Karlach murmurs, her voice tinged with weariness yet filled with genuine affection as she grasps the wood elf's shoulder, her touch gentle yet fleeting. A tired smile graces her lips.
But then, as if spurred by some unseen force, Karlach recoils, a sudden surge of flames engulfing her once again. Fear flashes across her features as she realizes the danger she poses to Delphie, her resolve waning in the face of the inferno that threatens to consume her.
"I never gave up. I did my best," she whispers, her voice barely above a hoarse murmur as she struggles to maintain her composure. The flames vanish as quickly as they appeared, leaving behind only the echo of her pain.
"It's the one thing I can't best, isn't it? I wanted to live. In my city. With my friends. But life is for the living. And I saw-" Karlach's words are cut short by a groan of pain, her body wracked with agony as she fights against the relentless onslaught of her fate. "Goodbye, sun. Goodbye, sea. Goodbye-"
"No!" Delphie cries out. "You will return to Avernus and you will see the sun and the sea once we figure this out."
"No. No, I can't go back."
As the tiefling groans again, Wyll urgently kneels beside them. "Then, allow me to accompany you," he offers.
Karlach looks over at Wyll. "You can't. You-"
"Karlach, please go. I won't watch you die," Delphie pleads, her voice thick with emotion as she locks eyes with the tiefling, her heart breaking at the thought of losing her friend. "I promise we'll visit."
The tiefling nods reluctantly, her features drawn with pain and resignation. "All right. All right," she concedes, her voice a whisper as she turns back to Wyll. "But we have to go, now."
The warlock nods solemnly, understanding the urgency of their situation. With a swift gesture, he conjures a fiery vortex.
In a flash of flame and shadow, they disappear from sight, leaving Delphie alone with her grief and the lingering echo of their parting words. A sense of emptiness settles over her, watching the fiery vortex fade.
As her hands limply drop to her lap, Astarion kneels behind her. The wood elf turns into him instinctively, once again seeking solace in his embrace as he runs his hand through her shortened curls with gentle tenderness.
Shadowheart, her gaze heavy with sorrow, stands nearby.
"They're all gone," Delphie whispers, tightening her grip around the vampire spawn.
"It's not forever, Delphnye," Shadowheart reassures softly, her voice filled with warmth and compassion. "We'll all visit, I promise."
The wood elf looks up at her, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, yet there's a glimmer of hope amidst the sorrow that lingers in their depths. With a gentle smile, Shadowheart offers a promise of brighter days ahead.
Then, a sudden sharp pain jolts through Astarion's hand, causing him to wince in surprise.
"Astarion?" Delphie's voice trembles with concern as she pulls away from him, her eyes widening in shock at the sight before her.
"What the-" The vampire spawn's gaze drops to his hand, horror dawning on his features as he watches his skin begin to flake away, disintegrating before his eyes.
"Oh no. Oh, Gods," he panics, his heart racing with fear and desperation as he struggles to stand up, clumsy and uncoordinated. "Well... it was nice while it lasted."
The pain intensifies, spreading like wildfire through his body as his face begins to burn, his features contorting in agony. He turns to flee, his instincts urging him to seek refuge from the merciless rays of the sun that now threaten to consume him.
"I'm sorry. I-I have to go!" he cries out, his voice thick with anguish as he stumbles away, his movements erratic and unsteady as he races blindly towards the safety of the shadows.
"Astarion!" Delphie's voice rings out in a desperate plea, her heart pounding in her chest as she and Shadowheart exchange a worried glance before running after him.
------------------------------------
As the night falls, casting a comforting cloak of darkness over the city, the elves emerge from the sanctuary of the shadows, the fading light of the setting sun a welcome relief after hours spent evading its merciless rays. With a shared glance, they make their way towards the welcoming glow of the Elfsong Tavern, their steps light and purposeful as they anticipate the warmth and comfort awaiting them within its walls.
The prospect of spending a few nights in the cozy confines of the tavern is a welcome reprieve from the months of endless fighting, a chance to escape the rocky ground of Dragon's Cove and indulge in some much-needed rest and relaxation. Though their makeshift bed has provided some semblance of comfort during their time on the road, the promise of actual beds and warm hearths beckons to them.
As the morning light begins to filter through the cracks in the curtains the next day, Astarion stirs from his slumber, his senses gradually awakening to the soft rustle of sheets and the gentle rhythm of Delphie's breathing beside him. Sensing he woke up, Pax slithers onto the bed and coils around his wrist like a protective talisman.
The vampire spawn lies on his side, his head propped up on his hand as he gazes fondly at Delphie.
As he watches the wood elf sleep peacefully, a warm smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Despite the trials and tribulations they've faced, she lies before him, alive and healthy, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm of life. It's a simple yet profound joy, knowing that she's here with him.
Careful not to disturb the slumbering pseudodragon curled up at his feet, Astarion drinks in the sight of the wood elf's serene expression, her emerald eyes closed in blissful repose.
As her eyelids flutter open, revealing the sparkling depths of her gaze, Astarion's smile only grows, his heart overflowing with love and affection for the woman who has become his constant companion and confidante. "Hello, darling."
"How long were you staring at me like that?" Delphie asks, her voice soft and groggy with sleep.
Astarion hums thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on her as he considers his response. "Maybe an hour," he admits with a sheepish grin.
The wood elf's lips quirk into a playful smile, her expression fond as she stretches out her limbs with a contented sigh. "You could've woke me up. I don't mind," she assures him with a yawn.
As she turns to face him, mirroring his position on the bed, Astarion meets her gaze with an affectionate smile, his crimson eyes alight with warmth and adoration. "What's on your mind, dretri?" she asks, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
"Oh, nothing really. I was just thinking about freedom," the vampire spawn begins as he rises to his feet. He begins to pace around the room, his movements fluid and purposeful, as if each step carries him further away from the chains of his past.
"How I'm free of the parasite - free of Cazador," he continues, his voice growing stronger with each word as he gestures grandly with his arms.
Delphie pushes herself up from the bed, the cool air of the room causing her to shiver slightly as she crosses the floor to stand in front of him, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to ward off the chill.
"How I'll never be in someone's power again."
The wood elf listens intently, her gaze never leaving Astarion as he speaks. Her heart swells with pride at the strength and resilience he has shown in the face of adversity. She knows all too well the darkness that once threatened to consume him, the specter of Cazador looming over him like a shadow. But now, seeing him stand tall and unbroken, she can't help but feel a sense of awe at the transformation he has undergone.
"And all it cost was my life in the sun. Now I belong to the shadows," the vampire spawn concludes as he takes a deep breath, his gaze meeting Delphie's with a quiet intensity.
As Delphie gazes up at Astarion, she reaches out to caress his cheek. The vampire spawn leans into her touch, his crimson eyes closing briefly as he savors the warmth of her hand against his cool skin.
"So. What happens next?" His gaze searches Delphie's for answers he's not sure she can provide.
"I promised you we'd find a way for you to walk in the sun again. I intend to keep that promise."
The vampire spawn's brows furrow in uncertainty. "You - do you think it's possible?"
Delphie pulls her hand away from his cheek, her expression earnest as she reaches out to grasp both of his hands in hers.
"I suppose there is a chance."
The wood elf's smile widens at his words as she squeezes his hands reassuringly.
"And if there's a chance, no matter how small, I'm going to take it."
"We're going to take it," Delphie emphasizes gently, her words a gentle reminder of the strength they find in each other's presence. Leaning in, she plants a tender kiss on his lips, her breath warm against his skin. "You're not alone anymore, remember?"
"How could I forget?" Astarion murmurs against her lips, his breath mingling with hers as he leans into her embrace. With a tender gesture, he plants a quick kiss on her cheek, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of her hands.
"And it would mean setting off on another adventure together," he adds, a playful glint in his eyes.
The vampire spawn's gaze softens as he studies Delphie, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt or hesitation. "Is that what you want? Is this what you want? I would understand if you wanted to go your own way."
The wood elf snakes her arms around his waist, drawing him close as she nuzzles into his chest. "You ask me that like I didn't just pay a hundred and fifty gold pieces for three nights alone with you, when we have a perfectly good camp set up in the Dragon's Cove," she teases, her voice playful yet sincere as she pulls away to meet his gaze. "Of course, it's what I want, Astarion."
Astarion's heart swells with warmth at her words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he tightens his grip around her, drawing her close to him. "Good, because selfless as I am, I really did not want to let you go."
Delphie's laughter dances through the air, a melodic symphony that echoes with the warmth of shared moments and cherished memories. It's a sound that the vampire spawn knows by heart, a melody that never fails to lift his spirits and fill his soul with joy.
As they stand wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the glow of their love, Astarion finds his voice once again. "We are rather excellent together, you know," he muses. "And united, there is nothing we can't do. I can't say what the future holds for us, but I know we'll be facing it together."
He chuckles deep in his throat, the sound a ripple of warmth that washes over them like a gentle wave. "And we are going to have a lot of fun," he declares, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans in to capture her lips in a tender kiss.
As a soft knock echoes through the room, a fleeting sense of disappointment washes over the elves. Astarion's brows furrow in irritation, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he begrudgingly pulls away from Delphie.
"If it's the wizard, again... isn't he supposed to return to Waterdeep?" he grumbles, his frustration evident in the edge to his voice.
The wood elf chuckles softly. She reaches out to gently caress his cheek.
"He just misses us. Remember, we were the only form of entertainment in the group," she teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she plants a quick kiss on his cheek.
The vampire spawn's irritation melts away at her words, replaced by a fond smile. "Oh, were we now?" he asks as he raises a brow.
Delphie's mischievous spirit remains undimmed as she crosses the room, her eyes alight with anticipation as she reaches for the door handle. With a swift motion, she swings the door open to reveal a familiar face, though not the one they expected.
Arabella stands before them, her presence a surprising twist in their day. The wood elf's smile widens at the sight of the young tiefling, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected visit.
"Hey, Delphnye. Are you still going to teach me sorcery?"
Before Delphie can respond, Astarion leans in from behind her. "I'm awfully sorry, little imp. Unfortunately, we have urgent matters to attend to," he interjects, his smirk betraying the facade of apology.
Arabella's hopeful expression falters, disappointment shadowing her features as she turns her attention back to the wood elf.
"Well, surely she can travel with us? I mean, we're not in lethal danger anymore," Delphie counters with a smirk.
Arabella's hopeful expression brightens at the wood elf's suggestion, her eyes widening with renewed anticipation. Yet, before she can voice her agreement, Astarion interjects with a stern tone that brooks no argument.
"Oh, no. Absolutely not! We just got rid of all the mangy strays." His gaze flickers down to Pax, who flickers his tongue inquisitively.
When his gaze flickers back to Delphie, she unleashes her secret weapon. With a dramatic flourish, she pulls out her lower lip, her eyes widening as she fixes Astarion with the biggest puppy dog eyes she can muster. It's a move she knows well, one that has melted his resolve more times than he cares to admit.
"Stop that," he scolds, though his tone lacks the bite it once held. Crossing his arms over his chest, he attempts to regain some semblance of authority, but his resolve is fragile in the face of Delphie's charm.
Yet, as he meets her beautiful emerald eyes once more, any pretense of sternness evaporates. A frustrated groan escapes him, his resistance futile against the allure of her gaze.
"Fine, but just to let you know, that was a dirty move, darling," Astarion concedes with a theatrical sigh, his expression a mix of annoyance and affection as he shoots Delphie a playful glare.
The wood elf smirks at his response, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she revels in her victory. With a playful wink, she turns her attention back to Arabella, her mind already buzzing with the possibilities of their next adventure.
The young tiefling's gratitude washes over them, her eagerness palpable as she expresses her thanks. Astarion can't help but roll his eyes at the whole exchange, though there's a hint of amusement in his exasperation.
This unexpected addition promises to make their journey even more intriguing, and Delphie can't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of what lies ahead.
Fighting for Freedom (Chapter 23: Delphie's Final Act)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 2.9k
Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo
Summary: Astarion and Delphie return to the fray, where odds are not in their favor.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
It's weird. Hearing Delphie yelp in pain distracted him for the briefest second. That's all it took for the Emperor to gain the upper hand in their fight. He doesn't remember much besides that. He does remember being scared because honestly, he doesn't want to die. He very much wants to live with Delphie by his side. He couldn't let her see that as he was dying because if nothing else, he wants her to live a happy life. Preferably with him, but as long as she's happy... She had to stay focused. He couldn't let her worry about him. But that was then, and this is now.
As Echo soars through the sky once more, Delphie's frustration bubbles up as she realizes they had left Astarion's leather cuirass behind in the heat of the moment. It lies abandoned amidst the chaotic battlefield, an oversight that makes her groan in irritation. She turns to the vampire spawn.
"Just stay close when we get down there. I lost my head. Your armor's quite literally in the middle of the battlefield."
Astarion's response is laden with a heavy sigh, his disappointment evident. "You really did, didn't you?"
With a sudden sense of urgency, the wood elf recognizes that Astarion is without his weapons. Without hesitation, she retrieves the twin slate knives from their sheaths and thrusts them towards him. "Here."
He gazes at her blankly, prompting Delphie to shake the knives in exasperation, shooting him a look that clearly says 'come on'. "I'm not gonna let you go out there unarmed."
"I'm grateful for that, my love, but what about you?" A note of concern colors the vampire spawn's voice.
Delphie's smirk is triumphant. "Don't forget, I'm half sorcerer, remember?" She winks mischievously at him before peering over the edge at the chaos unfolding below.
The situation is dire, far graver than they initially anticipated. A menacing nautiloid hovers ominously beside the Netherbrain, its presence punctuating the chaos with intermittent releases of grotesque aberrations into the already tumultuous fray. Despite the reunion of the group with Shadowheart and Jaheira at the brain's vicinity, the tension hangs heavy in the air, each member teetering on the brink of exhaustion and desperation.
Shadowheart, in particular, wears the weight of their predicament like a heavy shroud. Her usually composed demeanor is fraying at the edges, her resolve tested beyond its limits. She knows they need an escape, a lifeline to pull them from the clutches of this nightmarish ordeal. What she craves is the ability to invoke Selune's divine intervention, to call upon her goddess for the aid they so desperately need.
As they draw nearer to their destination, Delphie prepares herself for the inevitable leap from the dragon's back, her hand tightly clasping Astarion's.
"Ready to end this?" her voice rings out.
"I thought you'd never ask," the vampire spawn retorts, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
With an unspoken agreement passing between them, they synchronize their movements and leap from the dragon's back. In that suspended moment, as gravity claims them and the world around seems to slow, Astarion steals a glance at Delphie. Her form is illuminated by the faint glow of her arcane energies, hands outstretched as she begins her incantation. The scales on her forehead shimmer with a radiant light, casting an ethereal aura around her. In that fleeting instant, she is more than mortal; she is a vision of power and beauty, a goddess in her own right. Just as always.
"Gralik itpro!" Delphie's command slices through the stillness, shattering the suspended moment as time resumes its natural flow. In response, a brilliant bolt of azure lightning streaks forth from her outstretched hands, crackling with raw arcane power. It finds its mark, striking each of the three mind flayers that had encroached upon Shadowheart's flank. In an instant, their forms are consumed by the searing energy, reduced to smoldering ash.
Even as the remnants of their enemies drift away on the stagnant air, the elves land deftly upon the grotesque surface of the fleshy brain, their movements synchronized in perfect harmony. "Shadowheart! Call for Selune!" Delphie's urgent command rings out.
Without hesitation, the cleric nods in acknowledgment, her faith unwavering as she invokes the divine aid of her goddess. As her prayer reverberates through the pulsating mass of the Netherbrain, a soothing light blue aura envelops the weary party, suffusing them with a renewed vitality and vigor. In that fleeting moment of respite, their fatigue melts away, replaced by a surge of renewed strength and determination.
With newfound energy coursing through their veins, the party exchanges knowing smirks, a silent acknowledgment of their shared triumph over adversity. As one, they rally against the encroaching horde of aberrations, weapons flashing and spells flying as they tear through their foes.
The brain is weakened - this is our chance.
Orpheus. Delphie's gaze rises to where the mind flayer perches above them, a silent exchange of determination passing between them. With a resolute nod, she turns to her companions. "Astarion and I will head to the portal! Cover us!"
The urgency of her command spurs the others into action. Karlach, her grin a ferocious slash across her face, hefts her axe with a predatory gleam in her eye. "Gladly," she growls, anticipation coursing through her veins like wildfire. With a swift and brutal stroke, she cleaves an intellect devourer in half, its grotesque form falling apart at her feet in a flurry of viscera.
As the elven duo navigates through the chaotic battlefield towards the ominous portal, Astarion moves with the fluid grace of a seasoned predator. He wields his lover's daggers, each strike a masterful display of finesse and lethality. With a swift flick of his wrist, he dispatches Absolutists and aberrations alike, his movements a mesmerizing dance of death amidst the swirling chaos.
Beside him, Delphie unleashes the full force of her arcane prowess, her voice ringing out with authority as she shouts incantations with practiced ease. With each word, raw magical energy surges forth, blasting their adversaries back with explosive force. Her spells weave a protective barrier around them, a shield against the onslaught of their enemies' relentless assault.
And then, finally, they stand before the yawning maw of the portal, its darkness swirling with malevolent intent. With a shared glance of determination, they step forward together, disappearing into the void as they leave the chaos of the battlefield behind them.
-------------------------------
Its will is weakening - the brain is almost defeated!
Orpheus enters not long after them.
Their surroundings are a nightmarish tableau, a grotesque fusion of flesh and stone that defies description. They stand upon platforms fashioned from what can only be described as slabs of petrified purple flesh, surrounded by pink fleshy tendrils that writhe and pulse with a sickening vitality. Each step they take sends shivers down their spines, a stark reminder of the twisted reality they now inhabit.
With a silent nod of acknowledgment, Orpheus wastes no time in springing into action. With a surge of telekinetic energy, he levitates down to the nearest platform. Without hesitation, he unleashes a barrage of attacks upon the Netherbrain, his assault relentless and unforgiving.
"Let's go!" Delphie's shouts, her determination unwavering despite the Netherbrain's relentless assault on their minds. With a grimace, she summons the power of her wings, lifting herself into the air with a graceful sweep. With a determined grit, she reaches out and hoists Astarion by his pits, her muscles straining against the weight as she struggles to carry him.
As they soar towards the platform beside Orpheus, the very fabric of their surroundings begins to unravel. With a deafening roar, multiple platforms erupt into explosions of fleshy debris, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. The sudden violence of the Netherbrain's retaliation catches them off guard.
"It can do that?!" Astarion shouts in disbelief.
"Apparently!" the wood elf's response is sharp, her voice tinged with frustration as she battles to maintain their precarious hold on the situation.
With determination fueling their every move, the vampire spawn springs into action, the slate blades in his hands flashing in the dim light as he launches a relentless assault against the Netherbrain. Delphie matches his fervor with a flurry of spells as she hurls magical projectiles towards their formidable foe.
As the explosions continue to echo around them, more and more of the purple platforms succumb to the destructive force unleashed by the Netherbrain. With each detonation, the air is filled with the acrid scent of burning flesh, creating a surreal tableau of destruction.
Hurry! There is not much time.
Soon, only two platforms remain, the only sanctuary amidst the chaos. The elves stand poised upon them, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of determination. There is no need for words; their shared resolve speaks volumes as they prepare for the final confrontation.
With a quick nod from Delphie, they turn their attention back to the Netherbrain, their focus singular and unwavering. The wood elf's form begins to subtly lift into the air, her wings poised motionless at her sides. A radiant glow emanates from her eyes and scales, enveloping her in a halo of golden light.
With a voice that resonates with authority, Delphie begins to chant, her words echoing with ancient power and purpose. "Si relgr acht sia bafotruhki persvek nomenoi xoalir tairaisic di rigluin. Tluog ve dout vers. Letoclo ve troth sia itova iri kagh wer xiekivi svaust waph persvek nomeno thaczil. Bafotruhki, tluog ve dout vers." The incantation is familiar, the same words she had uttered in defiance against Myrkul in the mind flayer colony a few weeks prior.
Astarion's gaze remains fixed on her, his concern etched into the furrow of his brow. He can sense the weight of her fear, a tangible presence that hangs heavy in the air like a shroud. It's a fear that he knows all too well—the fear of loss, of failure, of the unknown that lurks beyond the edges of their reality.
As he watches her, he sees the shadows of her past traumas reflected in her eyes—the fear of almost losing him, of facing the prospect of a future without him by her side. But it's not just him she fears losing; it's their companions, their friends who have become like family, each one a vital thread in the tapestry of their lives. Her step-siblings as well. And beneath it all, he can sense the primal fear of her own mortality, the uncertainty of what lies beyond the veil of existence.
In that moment, as he stands beside her, the vampire spawn feels something stirring within him, a sensation that is foreign. It's as if a dormant power lies coiled within his very being, waiting to be unleashed. It's not an enchantment, not a spell cast by some external force, but a power that is uniquely his own—a latent potential waiting to be unlocked.
Instinctively, he reaches out for Delphie's hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. "Tell me what to do."
In response, the wood elf's eyes undergo a remarkable transformation, the fear that once clouded them giving way to a fierce determination. With unwavering confidence, she issues her command. "Listen to my ancestors," she instructs, holding her palm out.
Without hesitation, the vampire spawn obeys, his movements mirroring Delphie's as he extends his free hand in front of him. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, allowing himself to sink into the depths of his consciousness. And there, in the recesses of his mind, he hears them—the echoes of the wood elf's draconic ancestors, their voices a comforting presence amidst the chaos that surrounds him.
As he listens, a warmth begins to suffuse his usually cold body, spreading from the depths of his soul to every corner of his being. It's a sensation unlike any he has ever experienced, a gentle caress that soothes the wounds of his past and ignites a spark of hope within him. He feels a tingling sensation tracing the scars on his back, a reminder of the trials he has endured and the strength he has gained along the way.
In that moment of clarity, he understands.
As Astarion's eyes snap open, he is greeted by a sight beyond comprehension. Unaware of his own transformation, he floats weightlessly beside Delphie, his entire being bathed in a radiant golden glow that mirrors her own. The crimson orbs that once held dominion over his gaze now shimmer with a brilliant gold, casting their luminous light into the surrounding darkness. Even the scars that mar his back seem to pulse with an ethereal energy, tracing lines of ancient power across his pale skin.
Around them, a gentle breeze stirs, though there is no discernible source. Delphie's cloak billows behind her, while their hair dances in the unseen wind, shimmering with a faint aura of iridescence.
Astarion doesn't have to look behind them to know the spectral forms of her ancestors are behind them. Helping them. Guiding them. Protecting them.
"DOCAR KADEN!" Their voices resonate with power and purpose, a unified cry that pierces the air like a thunderclap. From their outstretched hands, twin torrents of swirling smoke, shot through with white-hot embers, erupt forth with a force that shakes the very ground beneath them. The clouds dance and weave in a mesmerizing display of elemental fury, their forms intertwining and merging as if guided by some unseen force.
As the swirling maelstroms converge upon the Netherbrain, a deafening roar echoes through the chamber, the sound of agony and despair mingling with the crackling of flames. The abomination thrashes and convulses within the confines of the swirling tempest, its form obscured by the dense clouds of smoke and fire that engulf it.
For a moment, all is chaos—a cacophony of sound and fury that threatens to consume everything in its path. And then, as suddenly as it began, the tempest begins to subside.
I-IMPOSSIBLE. FEAR. PAIN. TERROR.
"YOU WILL OBEY!" Delphie adds on through her gritted teeth.
Reconsider. Assess. Implore. SURRENDER!
The elves sink to their knees, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. Despite the weight of their weariness, their hands remain clasped together.
There. At last. It is subdued.
Hovering nearby, Orpheus glides gracefully towards them. As the last of the embers fade from the Netherbrain, he offers a solemn nod.
And thus, I honor my mother's legacy. The Grand Design, once again, ended by my line.
"As you should." Delphie offers him a weak smile, her arm wrapping around Astarion's shoulders. "Go ahead. Command the brain to destroy all the tadpoles, then itself."
Orpheus nods in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the Netherbrain. With a sense of purpose, he extends his hands towards the pulsating mass, a solemn determination in his gaze. In his grasp, the Netherstones hover, pulsing with an otherworldly energy as they approach the quivering form of the Netherbrain.
My master. I must. OBEY. I must. END!
With the Netherbrain's ominous words reverberating through their minds, Delphie and Astarion are overcome by searing agony, their hands instinctively flying to their temples as waves of excruciating pain wash over them. It feels as though their very brains are on fire, the relentless burning sensation tearing through their consciousness like a raging inferno. In the depths of their minds, they can feel the insidious presence of the tadpoles writhing and squirming.
As suddenly as it began, the pain subsides, leaving the elves gasping for breath as they struggle to make sense of their surroundings. Blinking through bleary eyes, they find themselves surrounded by the rest of their friends, their bodies streaked with the mingled blood of aberrations and Absolutists.
And then, in a moment of surreal clarity, the Crown of Karsus shatters into countless pieces, its fractured remnants tumbling into the depths of the ocean below. As the last vestiges of the artifact disappear from view, a profound silence descends upon the battlefield, enveloping them in a cocoon of stillness that is as unnerving as it is unexpected.
For the first time in what feels like an eternity, they are alone with their thoughts, their minds free from the intrusive whispers and commands of the Netherbrain. In the absence of its influence, they are left to grapple with the aftermath of their ordeal, their thoughts their own once more.
As the Netherbrain begins its rapid descent towards the ocean below, the ground beneath them lurches suddenly, catching them off guard. Each member of the party loses their balance, stumbling and grasping desperately for purchase as gravity exerts its inexorable pull. The world spins dizzyingly around them, the air alive with the sound of their startled cries.
But before disaster can strike, the dragons spring into action with uncanny swiftness, diving down from the sky with a thunderous roar. They swoop beneath their friends, catching them in the nick of time. As they ascend into the sky once more, the rush of wind and the pounding of their hearts are the only sounds that fill the air.
As the dragons carry them away from the plummeting Netherbrain, Delphie and Astarion share a glance, their laughter ringing out in a chorus of relief and jubilation. They had done it. Against all odds, they had emerged victorious.
As Astarion turns away to watch the final descent of the Netherbrain, Delphie notices something remarkable—a subtle transformation that had taken place during the heat of battle. The scars that once marred his back are now adorned with scales like hers.
Fighting for Freedom (Chapter 22: The Netherbrain)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 3.3k
Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo, major character death, extreme emotional ups and downs
Summary: The party fights the Netherbrain.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
As Orpheus glides through a shimmering portal into the heart of the battle, his presence immediately draws attention. Recognizing the imminent danger, Shadowheart swiftly weaves her incantations, conjuring a protective shield that surrounds him like an impenetrable fortress. Within this sanctum of safety, the mind flayer presses forward undeterred, his path unhindered by the chaos erupting around him.
Meanwhile, Bellamy and Echo engage in a breathtaking aerial dance with the dominated red dragon, their maneuvers orchestrated with precision as they lure the beast higher into the sky, away from their allies on the ground. With each coordinated strike, they chip away at the dragon's defenses, determined to neutralize the formidable threat.
Jaheira's transformation into a sleek panther grants her the advantage of stealth as she prowls through the shadows, her form disappearing from sight as she stalks the Dream Visitors. She closes in on her targets, ready to strike when the moment is opportune.
Delphie, with her keen eye and steady hand, takes aim with her new bow, unleashing a volley of arrows tipped with bullet-shaped heads. Each projectile finds its mark, punctuating the air with the thunderous echoes of their impact. The mind flayers, once arrogant in their dominance, are now sent reeling, plummeting helplessly into the depths below.
"Ar Vel, ivae," Astarion's voice resonates with satisfaction, a wicked grin playing upon his lips as the radiant blade ignites with a brilliant, otherworldly glow.
With a feral grace, he launches himself forward, both of his blades flashing in the smoke-covered sun. The Emperor, caught off guard by the sudden ferocity of the attack, manages to evade the first strike aimed with the spawn's off-hand, but finds himself unable to evade the full force of the radiant blade's onslaught.
Undeterred by the mind flayer's desperate attempt to defend himself, Astarion presses the assault, his movements a blur of speed and precision as he unleashes a flurry of strikes. The Emperor can do little more than lash out with his tentacles in a desperate bid to repel the vampire spawn's relentless advance.
You will obey, Astarion.
The Emperor's telepathic command cuts through the chaos of battle, a chilling reminder of the mind flayer's insidious power. Yet, Astarion's will remains unyielding, his defiance burning bright in the face of such mental intrusion. With a snarl of defiance, he rejects the mind flayer's attempt to subjugate his mind, his very being recoiling at the notion of surrendering control once more.
"No. No one will ever control me again," he declares. With a renewed sense of purpose, Astarion redoubles his assault.
High above the tumultuous battlefield, Delphie maintains her aerial vantage point, her bowstring singing as she continues to rain down a barrage of thunderous arrows upon their adversaries. Each shot finds its mark, sending enemies hurtling into the oceans below, their cries lost amidst the chaos of battle.
Yet, amidst her relentless assault, the wood elf's concentration is shattered by the sudden onslaught of flames, a searing torrent of fire breath unleashed by the cunning red dragon. With a yelp of pain, she feels the scorching heat singe her wing, her graceful flight disrupted as she struggles to maintain control amidst the inferno.
As Delphie's descent becomes less than graceful, a soothing blue warmth envelops her, a fleeting moment of respite amidst the chaos. Shadowheart's healing touch washes over her, easing the pain and restoring her battered strength. With a grateful nod, the wood elf acknowledges the cleric's timely intervention.
However, her moment of gratitude is short-lived as her attention is drawn back to the unfolding conflict below. Horror grips her as she witnesses the Emperor's tentacles lash out with terrifying speed, ensnaring Astarion in their paralyzing grip.
With a surge of determination, Delphie reaches for another arrow, only to find her quiver depleted. Discarding her bow with a frustrated gesture, she instead draws forth the twin daggers gifted to her by Astarion, their polished slate blades awaiting blood.
With a swift and fluid motion, she plunges her daggers into the mind flayer's back. For a fleeting moment, triumph surges through her veins as she watches the Emperor's form go limp, his psychic grip on their minds severed at last.
Yet, her trimuph is short-lived, for as the mind flayer collapses to the ground, Delphie's gaze falls upon a figure lying prone beneath him.
"Astarion?" she murmurs as she rushes to his side, pushing the limp body of the illithid off of him. The vampire spawn groans in pain, his features contorted with the agony of his injuries.
Delphie reaches into her pouch and withdraws a scroll, her fingers trembling slightly with urgency as she unfurls its ancient parchment. "Fitri di troth," she intones, her voice imbued with the power of the arcane as she speaks the words of protection.
In an instant, a golden dome of shimmering energy springs forth from the scroll, enveloping the elves in its protective embrace.
Astarion's once vibrant eyes now struggle to maintain their focus, the spark of life within them dimming with each passing moment. Despite the pain etched into every line of his face, he manages a weak smile as he gazes up at Delphie, his hand trembling as it reaches out to touch her face.
"He won't be bothering us anymore," he manages to whisper.
Sensing something amiss, Delphie's heart clenches with a sudden dread as she takes in the sight of her companion's failing form. With a sense of urgency, she grasps his face in her hands, her touch gentle yet urgent as she searches his features for any sign of what afflicts him.
A gasp escapes her lips, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in the sight before her.
His pallid skin is marred by the creeping tendrils of darkness, black veins snaking their way across his flesh like creeping tendrils of shadow. Delphie wastes no time in tearing away his leather armor, her hands trembling as she exposes the source of his affliction. "What did he do to you?"
Astarion's response is a hoarse cough. Yet, even in his weakened state, his gaze remains steadfast, his voice carrying a note of stern resolve despite the pain that racks his body. "Darling, you need to keep fighting."
Tears well in Delphie's eyes, her heart heavy with the weight of despair as Astarion's condition becomes increasingly dire. "No. Don't talk like that. I'll heal you. You'll be fine," she insists, her voice trembling with emotion as she refuses to accept the possibility of losing him.
Delphie's hands begin to glow with a radiant energy, her scales shimmering with a divine light as she presses her palms against Astarion's bare chest. "Seisu ezoukeic."
But to her shock and dismay, the golden energy of her healing spell seems to repel against Astarion's skin, as if his very essence rejects the benevolent touch of her magic. A sense of helplessness washes over Delphie as she stares down at her lover, her attempts at healing thwarted by some unseen force beyond her understanding.
"Seisu ezoukeic," she tries again, her voice tinged with desperation as she channels the healing energy once more, only to be met with the same result—nothing.
Frustration wells within her as she makes a third attempt, her hands trembling with exertion and fear as she struggles to overcome whatever barrier stands between her and Astarion's salvation. Yet, before she can make another futile attempt, Astarion weakly grasps her hands, his touch a gentle yet firm reminder of the reality they face. "You're wasting time and magic, Delphie."
"No. I'll figure something out. I'll call for Shadowheart. She'll be able to heal you—" Delphie's voice trembles as she casts her gaze towards the fray where Shadowheart valiantly battles against their adversaries. Yet, even as she speaks, a sense of desperation gnaws at her heart, the flickering of the protective dome around them a grim reminder of their dwindling time.
"You don't have time to sit here," Astarion's words are a gentle yet urgent plea as he struggles against the weight of his injuries. "They need you, my love."
Tears glisten in Delphie's eyes as she meets the vampire spawn's gaze, her heart torn to shreds. "I won't leave you. I promised you, you'll never be alone again," she whispers as she reaches out to caress his cheek with trembling fingers.
A faint smile graces Astarion's lips as he gazes up at her, gratitude shining in his weary crimson eyes. "Thank you for giving me a reason to live."
With a sudden gasp, the vampire spawn's body convulses as if seized by some unseen force, his breath coming in ragged gasps as if he suddenly needs to draw air into his lungs. Then, in an instant, his form grows limp, his eyes fluttering shut as the last vestiges of life slip away from him.
"Astarion?" Tears threaten to spill from her eyes as she desperately tries to rouse him from his unnerving stillness. With trembling hands, she shakes him roughly, her heart pounding with a mounting sense of dread as he remains unresponsive to her pleas.
"No. No. No," she whispers, her voice a broken refrain of denial as she stares down at the lifeless form of her beloved, her world crumbling around her with each passing moment.
As the protective dome surrounding them flickers and finally gives way, a horde of Absolutists surge forward, their malevolent intent written plain upon their twisted features. But before they can close the distance and lay their hands upon her, Delphie's grief ignites into a blaze of righteous fury, a primal scream of rage tearing from her throat with the force of a tempest unleashed.
In the wake of her cry, a wave of raw, unbridled energy surges forth, its power rippling through the air with a deafening roar. The Absolutists, caught off guard by the sudden outburst of rage, are hurled backwards with bone-crushing force, their forms sent hurtling off the edge of the Netherbrain to be swallowed by the abyss below.
"NO, ASTARION! DON'T LEAVE ME!" she screams, her voice a haunting lament that echoes around her.
As the chaos of battle rages around her, Delphie finds herself consumed by a singular focus, her world narrowing to encompass only the motionless form of Astarion lying before her. Yet, even as her grief threatens to overwhelm her, a sudden surge of movement catches her attention, and she feels the rush of air as Echo swoops in with a grace born of instinct and loyalty.
With a deft movement, Echo snatches both Delphie and Astarion in her powerful grasp, her claws securing their forms with a gentleness that belies her formidable strength. In any other circumstance, Delphie might have protested, might have fought against being whisked away from the heart of the battle. But not now. Not when every fiber of her being is consumed by the desperate need to save the one she loves.
Normally, Delphie would have screamed, cried out for Echo to release her, to return her to the fray where her friends need her most. But not today. Not when Astarion's life hangs in the balance, his very existence teetering on the precipice of oblivion. No, in this moment, the wood elf's sole purpose is to remain by his side, to do whatever it takes to pull him back from the brink of death.
Echo understands this unspoken vow, the unbreakable bond that exists between the elves transcending mere words or actions.
As the dragon gracefully lands them on the safety of a wide, towering rock, Delphie's grief pours forth in a torrent of tears that streak down her cheeks like silent rivers of anguish.
She watches with tear-stained eyes as Echo lands beside them, her somber gaze mirroring the depth of the wood elf's despair.
With a trembling hand, Delphie reaches out to touch the gem adorning the breastplate of her armor. "Please, Father. Ancestors. If you can hear me, help him," she implores. Closing her eyes, she bows her head, her other hand coming to rest upon Astarion's chest, directly over his undead heart.
"Opsola. Bafotruhki. Soves jacion spical ekess wer mitne," she murmurs for the miraculous power of her ancestors to breathe life back into the one she holds most dear.
But as the moments stretch into an agonizing silence, panic begins to rise within Delphie's chest, her hope faltering. Tears stream down her cheeks once again as she cries out in frustration. "Godsdammit! Why isn't it working?!"
Collapsing upon Astarion's still form, Delphie is overcome by a wave of anguish so profound it threatens to drown her. She clings to him desperately, her sobs wracking her body as she pours out her heart. "You don't deserve this. You wanted to live. I want you to live. Please, Astarion, come back to me," she pleads.
A choked sob escapes her lips as she presses her cheek against his chest, her heart aching with the emptiness of his absence. "I need you."
As Delphie's desperate pleas echo through the stillness of the night, a sudden shimmering presence materializes before her, coalescing into the form of Alden in his human guise, a spectral apparition of the man—or dragon—he once was. Behind him, a host of ethereal golden dragons materialize as well. Delphie's breath catches in her throat as she beholds the awe-inspiring sight before her, her tears flowing unabated in the presence of her ancestors.
"Father, please," she implores as she clutches Astarion tightly to her chest. "I can't bear to lose anyone else."
Alden draws near, his presence radiating a sense of comfort and reassurance amidst the turmoil of grief. With a solemn reverence, Echo bows her head in deference.
Delphie's father kneels beside the elves. Gently, he places a hand upon Astarion's head, his touch infused with a warmth that defies the chill of death. "He made a promise to me," Alden intones. "He cannot keep that if he is not by your side."
As Alden raises his hands to the heavens, his voice resonates with a power that transcends the mortal realm. Delphie watches with bated breath, a flicker of hope igniting within her heart at the sight of the spectral elf's invocation.
"Kereska. Bafotruhki, shala nomeno sthyr ekess waph huena throdenilt. Jacida tairais tepohaic sjerit ekess confn," Alden intones, his words carrying the weight of generations as he channels the sacred energy of their ancestors into a ritual of resurrection.
Suddenly, the vampire spawn's body rises from Delphie's lap, lifted by an unseen force that mirrors the miraculous rebirth she herself experienced not long ago. A radiant golden aura envelops him, casting a warm glow that bathes them in its ethereal light. Delphie's heart pounds in her chest as she watches, her eyes fixed upon Astarion's form.
Every scar etched into his skin begins to glow with a golden hue. His eyes are forced open, revealing orbs of pure gold in place of the crimson ones that once defined him. For a moment, the air is charged with a palpable sense of anticipation, a silent plea hanging in the balance as Delphie waits for any sign of life.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the glowing subsides, and Astarion floats gently back into her lap, his form cradled in her embrace once more. For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.
But then, in a miraculous twist of fate, Astarion's eyes shoot open, the crimson orbs she so desperately loves shining with renewed vitality.
"Astarion," Delphie breathes in disbelief, her hands trembling as she cups his face in her palms, her touch a testament to the miracle that has unfolded before her eyes.
The vampire spawn's lips curve into a playful smirk, his gaze softening as he meets her eyes. "Now, you know how I felt when you died, my love," he breathes, his words a gentle tease laced with the warmth of his laughter.
Before Delphie can respond, Astarion brushes away her tears with feather-light kisses, his lips tracing a path of warmth and reassurance against her skin.
And then, in a moment that transcends words, the vampire spawn captures her lips in a passionate kiss. In that moment, time seems to stand still, the world falling away around them as they lose themselves in the sweet ecstasy of their reunion.
A playful smack lands lightly against Astarion's chest. "Don't scare me like that, you ass!" Delphie chides.
His laughter rings out in the air, a melodic sound that fills the wood elf's heart with warmth as he sits up, his movements fluid and graceful despite the lingering ache of his recent ordeal. With a gentle touch, he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face.
Delphie wastes no time in wrapping her arms around his neck, her embrace fierce and unyielding as if afraid that if she lets go, she'll lose him once again. Her heart pounds in her chest with each beat a silent prayer for his safety, her fears tempered by the comforting solidity of his presence in her arms.
As the wood elf's gaze shifts upward, she realizes with a pang of bittersweet sorrow that Alden and her ancestors have vanished. A sense of loss tugs at her heart, their brief reunion now nothing more than a fading memory etched into the fabric of her soul.
"I don't want to let you go, but I have to," Delphie whispers in the vampire spawn's ear.
"She is correct. Your companions need assistance," a voice booms from behind them.
Astarion's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at Echo's sudden interjection, his halfhearted glare directed toward the dragon. "Seriously? She was here the whole time?"
But Delphie's focus remains fixed upon Astarion, her fingers gently tracing the contours of his face as she turns his gaze to meet hers. "Stay here with Echo. I'll be back," she promises. Reluctantly, she releases her hold on him.
"Darling, you're mad if you think I'm going to sit here while you have all the fun," Astarion protests.
"You just died, Astarion."
The vampire spawn's smirk widens into a mischievous grin as he shrugs nonchalantly. "Not the first time that's happened, my love."
"Astarion, I'm serious," Delphie insists, her tone firm as she meets his gaze.
But the pale elf remains resolute, his stance unwavering as he rises to his feet, his arms crossing over his chest in a gesture of defiance. "So am I."
"I don't know if my father will be able to bring you back a second time," the wood elf confesses.
A fresh tear trails down her cheek, glistening in the faint light of the setting sun. Astarion reaches out to gently wipe it away, his touch a tender caress against her skin. "Oh, but that's half the fun," he teases.
"You're infuriating," Delphie retorts, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile at his response.
But before she can protest further, Astarion leans in to plant a kiss on her cheek, his lips cold against her skin. Delphie's heart skips a beat at the tender gesture.
With a determined glint in his eyes, the vampire spawn turns to face Echo as he prepares to mount the dragon once more. This time, he succeeds without assistance, his movements fluid and confident as he settles himself upon her back.
Turning back to his lover, he extends a hand to her with a gentle smile. "Let's go help our friends, shall we?"
Fighting for Freedom (Chapter 21: The War has Begun)
Rating: Mature
Word count: 4k
Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav (named)/OC
Warnings: violence, strong language, innuendo
Summary: Orpheus takes one for the team. Delphie gathers their allies and has a brief respite with Astarion before the battle begins.
*Link to AO3 Post
*Link to Previous Chapter
Delphie's words are left hanging in the air, tears trembling just behind her eye-line, as she looks Orpheus in the eye.
I was just free.
The voice of Orpheus echoes through her mind, relentless and cold, a glimpse of the freedom that had once been within her grasp. Delphie can't watch as Lae'zel begs the gith prince to reconsider. The guilt worms its way through her stomach, a whirring in her skull she can't shake, realizing her own selfishness.
Within the span of mere moments, the change begins. Orpheus's body unnaturally contorts as his bones snap and tentacles form from his mouth. Horridly, his flesh burns away, only to reveal a lurid purple beneath. She curls into herself, unable to bear to watch as he is doomed to be.
As Orpheus opens the gateway, Lae'zel follows close behind, her heart heavy with sorrow, while Shadowheart follows silently in their wake.
Delphie feels the weight of her guilt start to peel off, if only just a bit, as Astarion wraps his arms around her petite form. His gentle nuzzle against the curve of her neck sends a shiver down her spine, a small moment of comfort from the chaos that surrounds them.
"As much as I would like to stay here and hold you, darling, we must go."
His words, though laced with reluctance, pull her back into the grim reality that awaits them. Delphie nods in understanding. With a determined resolve, she steps away from his hold, her hand coming to meet his as she guides him forward toward the gleaming gate that beckons them on.
------------------------------
Stepping through the portal, the elves are thrust into a scene of unfathomable chaos. Before them sprawls a landscape of devastation, a tableau of war and destruction that grips their hearts with dread.
Perched on the edge of a cliff, they overlook the once-grand High Hall, now a battleground engulfed in the fury of conflict. Red dragons soar through the smoky sky, their fiery breath raining down upon the nautiloids that dart through the air in futile attempts at evasion. The acrid scent of smoke fills their lungs, mingling with the distant cries of anguish and the roar of flames that engulf the city below.
But amidst the carnage, a chilling sight arrests their gaze—the Netherbrain hovers ominously above the High Hall like a malevolent specter. Its dark tendrils writhe in the air, casting a pall of despair over the besieged city.
"We're too late," Shadowheart's voice is heavy with resignation, her gaze averted in shame.
Delphie feels a surge of determination coursing through her veins, a defiant spark igniting within her despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them. She reflects on the tumultuous journey they've endured, the trials and tribulations that have led them to this pivotal moment. Their quest to rid themselves of the insidious tadpoles that lurk within their minds, the sacrifices made, the battles fought—it all converges to this critical juncture.
But despair is not an option, not when there's still a glimmer of hope to be found amidst the chaos. With a resolute tone, Delphie counters Shadowheart's despondency. "No," she asserts firmly. "It's never too late."
Drawing in a deep breath, she steadies herself, the weight of responsibility heavy upon her shoulders. "We have to find the others," she declares, her words a rallying cry against the encroaching darkness.
No sooner has she spoken than Voss and the other githyanki approach them.
------------------------------
Voss guides them to the Watch Citadel where their fellow companions wait for them. Delphie pushes open the heavy doors, their weight giving way with a creaking groan that echoes through the room. As she steps inside, the ambient chatter fades into a hushed silence, all eyes turning to her in anticipation.
The room sprawls out before her, a cozy yet imposing space that serves as a retreat for the Fists. Plush velvet chairs surround a long wooden table where comrades gather for meals and strategy sessions. A small L-shaped bar stands in one corner, weathered stools resting against it. And at the heart of it all, a crackling hearth casts a warm glow.
Delphie's heart quickens in her chest as she scans the room, her gaze alighting upon the familiar faces of her friends. Relief floods her senses as she sees them alive and well. Without hesitation, she strides forward, a smile spreading across her lips as she embraces each of them in turn.
Then, her breath catches in her throat as her gaze falls upon her step-siblings. Tears well in her eyes, blurring her vision as they rush forward to envelop her in a tight embrace. She sinks into their arms.
The heart-shaped tip of Harley's tail wraps around them, drawing them closer together. The wood elf feels a lump form in her throat as she tries to speak.
"I'm sorry," she chokes out, her words barely audible.
Bellamy reaches out, a gentle touch brushing away a stray tear from Delphie's cheek. "You tried your best, sister," she reassures her. "Now, it's time for us to help."
Delphie nods. She looks around the room, taking in the faces of her companions and family, each one a testament to the bonds of friendship and love that have sustained them through countless trials.
Among them, she spots the familiar faces of Arabella, Alfira, Rolan, Dammon, Zevlor, Isobel, Aylin, and Yurgir, their presence a source of comfort and reassurance in the midst of uncertainty. With a tender smile, Delphie acknowledges each one, silently thanking them for their unwavering support and faith.
A Flaming Fist with shoulder-length blonde hair approaches her. "My steel is yours as well."
But before the wood elf can formulate a response, Harley's boisterous voice interrupts, demanding a speech with the kind of enthusiasm only the lavender-skinned tiefling could muster. Delphie's cheeks flush with embarrassment, her mind racing to find the right words to satisfy the eager crowd.
She steals a glance behind Bellamy, where Harley stands with an expectant grin plastered across her face. The pressure mounts, threatening to overwhelm her, but then she catches sight of Astarion, his lopsided smile and casual demeanor serving as a silent reassurance.
In that moment, Delphie finds her anxiety easing in the wake of his presence. His nonchalant shrug seems to say, "You've got this," and as always, for some reason, she believes him.
"Um..." she begins tentatively, her voice wavering slightly before finding its footing. "Alright, everyone, listen up."
"I know things look grim right now. We've seen horrors, faced challenges that would make the bravest quiver in their boots. But we can't let fear paralyze us. We can't afford to give in to doubt. We've come too far to turn back now. We've fought so hard to get to this point, and we're not going to let all that effort go to waste.
"Yes, the odds may seem stacked against us. Yes, the challenges ahead may seem insurmountable. But we are not alone in this. We have each other. And together, there's nothing we can't overcome.
"Embrace your courage and let it guide you through battle," Delphie urges, her voice rising with passion. "Don't give in to fear! Today, we fight for family. For friends."
She turns her gaze to Astarion, their eyes meeting in a moment of silent understanding. With a soft, reassuring smile, Delphie continues, "For...love."
Astarion returns her smile, a flicker of warmth passing between them.
"So, let's stop sulking around and kick some illithid ass!" the wood elf concludes, her words punctuated by a chorus of cheers and applause from those gathered, their spirits lifted by her unwavering determination and rallying cry to arms.
All except for Lae'zel, Astarion, and Orpheus. The gith and mind flayer give Delphie a determined nod, while Astarion can't help but widen his small smile.
As the cheers die down, Harley, wearing her signature broad smile that seems to light up her face, makes her way over to the wood elf. "Alden was surprisingly always one for theatrics," she remarks as she displays a small mortar of rose-colored cream in her hand. "I think he would love for you to battle in style."
Delphie quirks an eyebrow at her step-sister, amusement sparkling in her eyes. "You sure that was my father?" she teases skeptically.
Harley shrugs with a playful grin on her lips. "Well, maybe I'm slightly more of a fan of it," she admits with a chuckle, her lavender-hued skin glowing with excitement at the prospect of adding a touch of flair to the impending battle.
The two women's laughter mingles in the air as Harley dips her finger into the creamy concoction. She begins to paint delicate dots under Delphie's eyes and mouth, and a line of dots between her eyebrows, extending down to the bridge of her nose.
Delphie allows herself to be swept up in Harley's infectious enthusiasm. As the last dot is placed, she admires her reflection in a nearby mirror, the rose-colored markings adding a touch of whimsy to her appearance.
"There!" Harley exclaims with satisfaction, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
As Astarion approaches them from behind Delphie, Harley's mischievous grin widens, a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. Without hesitation, she extends the mortar of rose-colored cream to the wood elf, a playful challenge evident in her expression.
"Here," the tiefling says with a gleeful lilt to her voice. "You should paint Astarion's face, too!"
Delphie blinks in surprise, caught off guard by the unexpected suggestion. "Oh, okay?" she manages to utter as she accepts the mortar from Harley's outstretched hand.
Before she can even process what's happening, however, the tiefling vanishes from her sight with a mischievous giggle, leaving Delphie and Astarion alone in her wake. The two elves exchange bemused glances, their eyebrows raising in unison as they watch the tiefling's retreating figure disappear into the crowd.
Astarion's lips curve into a smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Donning some warrior paint, are we?" he teases as he nods towards the rose-colored cream in her hand.
The wood elf's chuckle rings out, a melodic sound that fills the air with warmth. "It was Harley's idea."
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she dips her finger into the creamy mixture. As she slowly approaches him, her movements deliberate and teasing, Astarion finds himself captivated by the serene expression on her face.
It's a rare sight nowadays, one that fills him with almost an equal sense of peace and contentment, and he finds himself unable to look away as she begins to replicate the dotted pattern on his face.
Normally, he would balk at the idea of anyone defiling his impeccable features, but with Delphie, it's different. He trusts her implicitly, and the sight of her finally at ease convinces him to remain still as she continues her artistic endeavor.
"You're quite possibly the only person I would allow to do this," the vampire spawn whispers, his voice barely audible above the murmurs of the crowd.
Delphie graces him with a gentle smile, her touch light and sure as she paints the last few dots onto his face. "I know," she murmurs, setting the mortar aside on the wooden bar beside her.
Astarion's fleeting sense of peace is abruptly shattered as Delphie's expression shifts, her solemnity casting a shadow over the momentary respite. He watches as she draws in a deep breath. "Are you ready?"
"Ready as one can be in the face of imminent death, darling," he replies with a wry smile.
As they stand together, lost in the moment, Kaneru approaches them slowly, a tentative expression on his face as he tries to avoid interrupting their conversation. "I do not mean to intrude, dear sister," he begins, "but I spoke to Bellamy. We believe it might be easier to fly to the Netherbrain."
Delphie's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect, a grin spreading across her face as she nods in agreement.
------------------------------
Outside of the citadel, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, Delphie's eyes light up as she catches a glimpse of Echo in the distance. Without hesitation, she breaks into a run, her heart pounding with relief as she closes the distance between them. As she reaches the gold dragon, she throws her arms around her long neck.
"It is good to see you are alive, my friend," Echo rumbles in her deep, melodious voice.
Delphie nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she leans back to meet Echo's gaze. "Let's hope it'll stay that way," she replies with a note of cautious optimism, her words laced with a hint of uncertainty.
As Astarion approaches them, Delphie's mischievous grin widens, a playful glint dancing in her eyes as she turns to him.
"Hop on, dretri!" she exclaims with a teasing lilt.
The vampire spawn returns her smile. "As long as the lizard won't drop me," he quips.
"I will keep the bloodsucker safe unless he gives me a reason not to do so," Echo declares with a mischievous smirk of her own, her eyes gleaming with humor.
"Fair point," Astarion remarks, a wry smile playing on his lips as he prepares to climb onto the dragon's back.
However, as he attempts to mount Echo with all the grace and elegance of the rogue he is, his efforts are met with less-than-graceful results. He struggles to find his footing, his movements awkward and uncoordinated, much to Delphie's amusement.
Unable to contain herself any longer, the wood elf bursts into laughter, the sound ringing out like music amidst the chaos of their surroundings. With tears of mirth sparkling in her eyes, she watches as Astarion's attempts to mount Echo continue to falter, each failed attempt only serving to deepen her amusement.
"Echo, give him a hand," she manages to choke out between giggles.
The young dragon rolls her eyes in mock exasperation, a playful glint dancing in her golden orbs as she regards the struggling vampire spawn. With a gentle nudge, she helps Astarion the rest of the way onto her back, his surprised yelp drowned out by infectious laughter.
As the vampire spawn finally finds his footing, perched precariously atop Echo's majestic form, Delphie's laughter gradually begins to subside, replaced by a sense of warmth that fills her heart.
The wood elf's gaze sweeps over their companions, a surge of pride swelling in her chest at the sight of them all armed and ready for battle. Each one a formidable ally in their own right, united by a common purpose and a shared determination to face whatever challenges lie ahead.
Lae'zel, her steely gaze unwavering, mounts onto Kaneru, his bronze scales gleaming in the light of the flames below them. Despite their differences, they make a formidable pair, their resolve mirrored in the fierce determination that burns within their hearts.
Shadowheart and Jaheira, their bond unbreakable, mount onto Bellamy with a sense of quiet strength, the silver of the dragon's scales like her own armor donned. Side by side, they become a testament to the power of loyalty and friendship.
Gale and Wyll, their expressions resolute, mount onto Erg with a sense of purpose, the brass wings of the dragon reflecting those of his avariel form. Together, they stand ready to unleash the full force of their magical prowess, their combined strength a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.
Karlach, her eyes alive with mischief, mounts onto Harley with a playful grin, the copper in the dragon's own gaze shimmering with excitement at the prospect of adventure. Together, they embody the spirit of mischief and mayhem.
As Delphie stands among her friends and family, a sense of awe washes over her, the magnitude of their journey hitting her with full force. It's strange to think that only a few short months ago, she was alone in the world, with no friends to call her own and no family besides the two serpents that coiled around her wrists. How far they've all come since then, from strangers to trusted allies, and from trust to love.
As she looks around at the faces of her companions, each one a testament to the bonds they've forged and the trials they've overcome, Delphie feels a swell of gratitude in her heart. This is her family now, the people she holds dear, the ones she must protect at all costs. They've become her rock, her support, her reason to keep fighting even when the odds seem insurmountable.
And now, as they stand on the brink of battle, it falls to Delphie to lead them forward, to guide them into the fray with the hope that they will emerge victorious and return to a better life. It's a heavy burden to bear, but she carries it with determination and resolve, knowing that she does not stand alone.
As she looks around at her companions, a pang of bittersweet emotion tugs at her heart. She loves each and every one of them with a depth that defies words, but she knows that their time together may be fleeting. The thought weighs heavily on her mind as she considers the future that awaits them if they survive the coming battle.
Gale must return to Waterdeep, his duties and responsibilities calling him back to the city he calls home. Shadowheart, after decades of believing her parents to be dead, longs to reconnect with them, to forge new bonds and heal old wounds. Lae'zel will probably want to return to the Astral Plane. Jaheira will have to return to the Harpers, her duty to the organization pulling her back into their ranks. Karlach faces the daunting task of returning to Avernus to prevent her infernal heart from consuming her from within. Wyll, ever the adventurer, likely has his own quests and ambitions to pursue, whether it's reuniting with his father or continuing his adventures as the Blade of the Frontiers.
And then there's Astarion, whose future remains uncertain despite the promises they've made to each other. She pledged to search for a cure for his vampirism, to stand by his side no matter what challenges they may face. But as she considers the possibility of their future together, doubts begin to creep into her mind. What if he doesn't want to live in the Dragon Cove once they've found a cure? If they even find it? What if he wants something completely different from her?
As Delphie's negative thoughts threaten to consume her, a tingling sensation washes over her, a familiar presence stirring within her mind. Without hesitation, she opens herself up to her friends' tadpoles.
'You're spiraling again, Delphnye.' Shadowheart.
'We're here for you, Del.' Wyll.
'And we're not going anywhere.' Karlach.
'Seems like you're stuck with us.' Gale.
'Chk, enough with the sentiments. Let us leave now. My blade thirsts for blood.' Lae'zel.
'I won't leave your side, darling.' Astarion.
It's as if they've all read her mind, their voices mingling together in a chorus of support and solidarity. With a deep breath, Delphie feels a renewed sense of determination coursing through her veins, her resolve strengthened by the unwavering support of her friends.
She turns her gaze to Astarion, his reassuring smile giving her the strength she needs to push forward. "Let's go kill a brain," she mutters to herself, her voice firm with resolve as she spreads her wings and takes to the air.
------------------------------
Using the billowing smoke as a cloak, the dragons follow Delphie's lead as she glides gracefully towards the looming silhouette of the High Hall. With each beat of their powerful wings, they draw closer to their destination, their forms obscured by the thick haze that envelops them.
As they approach, Delphie uses her connection with Esme to observe below the smoke. She comes to a sudden halt as Esme's keen eyes scan the courtyard below. There, amidst the chaos and confusion, a large army of Absolutists gathers, their presence a grim reminder of the imminent danger they face.
"Absolutists," Delphie announces, severing the connection with the pseudodragon. "At least fifty or so."
"We need to stop them!" Shadowheart's urgent voice pierces through the sounds of explosions and roars, her eyes flashing with determination as she turns to her companions.
"We don't have time!" Gale shouts back. "We need to get to the Netherbrain before it completes the Grand Design!"
A tense silence hangs in the air as the gravity of their situation weighs heavily upon them. With time running out and the fate of the world hanging in the balance, Delphie knows that they cannot afford to hesitate any longer.
"Then, we'll split up!" Her voice booms with authority, cutting through the chaos. "As much as I don't want to separate us again, it's the only way!"
Shadowheart's gaze meets hers with unwavering determination as she declares, "I'm not leaving your side! Jaheira and I will join you and Astarion!"
The wood elf returns her gaze, her heart swelling with gratitude for her friend's loyalty. With a firm nod, she acknowledges Shadowheart's pledge, knowing that together they will be a formidable force against whatever challenges may lie ahead. "Thank you," she murmurs.
Turning her attention to the rest of their companions, Delphie issues a command. "The rest of you take out the Absolutists and meet us at the top!"
With her words, Kaneru, Erg, and Harley swoop down towards the courtyard below, their powerful wings beating against the air as they descend upon their unsuspecting enemies. As they dive into the fray, their forms disappear amidst the swirling chaos.
------------------------------
Delphie leads the way, her senses alert as she guides Bellamy and Echo through the air towards the towering form of the Netherbrain. With each beat of their powerful wings, they draw closer to their destination, the wood elf's keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.
As they finally land atop the Netherbrain, Delphie's nose wrinkles in disgust at the sensation of the fleshy substance beneath her boots. The air is thick with the stench of decay, and she can feel the eerie presence of the mind flayer's influence hanging heavy in the air. But despite the discomfort, Delphie remains resolute, her focus unwavering as she prepares to face whatever challenges may lie ahead.
Echo and Bellamy land next to her as she gestures for Esme to obscure herself from view. With a sense of determination, Jaheira, Shadowheart, and Astarion dismount from the dragons' backs, standing confidently beside Delphie, their weapons drawn and ready for battle.
As the group gazes up at the Crown, Astarion's voice breaks through the tense silence.
"That's it! We have to use the Netherstones on the Crown - it's the only hope we have," he declares, pointing toward the massive artifact.
Before they can formulate a plan of action, however, a sudden disturbance interrupts their thoughts. With a thunderous roar, a red dragon with eyes dominated by shades of purple descends from the skies, its imposing form casting a shadow over the group.
Echo and Bellamy react instinctively, emitting protective snarls as they position themselves between their companions and the imposing figure that now stands before them. The Emperor, wielding the other set of purple-dominated eyes, glares at the group with undisguised malice, his presence radiating an aura of power and authority.
With a flick of his wrist, the Emperor unleashes a dark magic that causes four cocoons to rise from the surface of the Netherbrain. As the group watches in horror, the cocoons begin to hatch, revealing four familiar figures emerging from within - their Dream Visitors.
"That's... that's the person from my dreams..." Shadowheart's voice trembles with disbelief as she stares at the figure before her.
I know you. I know everything about you. Your thoughts. Your feelings. Your weaknesses.
Delphie's brows furrow in response to the invasive intrusion, her mind racing as she grapples with the implications of the Emperor's taunts. Beside her, she can sense the tension radiating from her companions, their faces drawn tight with apprehension as they brace themselves for the impending confrontation.
And so do they.
With a gesture from the Emperor, the Dream Visitors beside him move with an unnatural grace, their movements synchronized and purposeful as they charge forth towards Delphie and her companions. Each step they take is filled with a sense of menace, their malevolent intent clear as they close the distance between themselves and their targets.
With weapons drawn and hearts pounding, Delphie and her companions steel themselves for the coming confrontation.
