#andauril writes

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: Demons

Chapter Summary:

An encounter with a Gur Tribe ignites another argument about the looming Rite of Profane Ascension.

(art by @/morebird)

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

TW: Smoking

Excerpt:

Silaestra’s expression was pensive. A small brown had etched itself in between her brows. “Cazador didn’t send the hunter …” Silaestra’s steps halted. She stopped, glanced over her shoulder to the encampment. Her lips drew into a thin line.  “Does it matter? These vagrants were still rather eager to kill me.”  Though being killed by the gur would’ve likely been a kinder fate than whatever Cazador would’ve done to him. At least the gur didn’t plan to sacrifice him in a diabolical ritual.  “Besides, they are morons to think they could kill me before Cazador does. The bastard’s reach is far longer than they think.” He choked out a bitter laugh. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he put them on my trail, somehow.” “But they’re not working for him. Consciously, at least. They could be allies, if …” She shook her head. “Did you do it? Did you take their children?” Had he? He still couldn’t remember, even if those gur claimed to remember him.  “I … Honestly? I don’t remember. I might have?” He didn’t like the question. “But what does it matter? Even if I did, those were Cazador’s orders. I had no choice. I never had a choice. What should I have done? Refuse? Hah! He’d have me flayed and then forced me to do it anyway.” He’d had no choice. There was no refusing Cazador’s orders.  A bitter smile appeared on her lips. “’An obedient puppet.’ I know. I’m not judging you.” Her gaze fell to her hands. The slender fingers were twitching again, as if out of her control. Perhaps they were. “But that changes nothing for these people. Their children are still dead.” Astarion groaned. He hated that she had a point. He didn’t care a lick for whatever pathetic reasons Cazador had had for tormenting him for two-hundred years, because what did it change ? Why would the gur care for his reasons then?  Which made it all the more baffling that they’d waffled on about redemption and forgiveness. He wouldn’t offer any in their stead. Cazador certainly deserved not a shred of it.  “And I will gladly avenge their children for them. Cazador will suffer immensely , darling, I can promise you that much.”  “And what then?” A small furrow had dug itself in between her brows. The pensive look hadn’t left her features.  “Well, if we are lucky, we might just be able to interrupt Cazador’s ritual. His Rite of Profane Ascension, attended by devils and spawn alike. A grand ceremony to honour one exalted vampiric master ”, he spat out, “and elevate him to an unfathomable station. To place him in a position of such esteem the world will yearn to kneel and offer their necks.”  “Of course …” Silaestra’s words were merely a whisper. “You envy him, do you?”

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: Monster Under My Skin

Chapter Summary: Silaestra learns there is a price to pay for her defiance, and the truth is finally revealed.

(art by @/morebird)

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

Chapter Warnings: Dark Urge Darkness, some gruesome descriptions of intrusive thoughts and fantasies etc.

Excerpt:

She woke with her head resting on his shoulder. Her skin felt too hot, burning, feverish almost; but his touch was a relief. Like a cool breeze on a sweltering summers day; no … like a rainshower, dousing her as she burned alive.  “Good morning, my love”, he said.  Astarion was beautiful even with the inprint of a pillow on his cheek and unruly, untamed curls falling into his eye.  “It’s a good morning now”, she replied, unable not to smile. “Did you have a good rest?” He opened his mouth to answer. She turned around, swift as a snake, and lunged at him. He thrashed under her, desperate, frantic, but she’d already whispered the spell, had already pulled the dagger from underneath the pillows. The look of shock in his face was thrilling , and she grinned at him wildly as she thrust the blade into his throat, thunder rippling along his pale flesh as the spell ripped him apart … It hadn’t happened that way. She remembered what had happened that morning, and it hadn’t been this.  He’d answered. She hadn’t attacked him.  It had been a good morning, nothing like this.  She had straddled him, but to kiss him, and perhaps they would’ve done more than that. But Karlach had interrupted. “Nothing to complain about”, Astarion replied. She was resting her head on his shoulder again. He sounded almost surprised when he said that, and his tone was warm with affection.  The memory changed.

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: Ties of Blood

Chapter Summary: Silaestra has an unsettling encounter, and Astarion is trying to process the truth.

(art by @/morebird)

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

Excerpt:

“Do me a favour, love? Tell me if those are tight enough.”  Astarion skidded back from her, inspecting the knots.  There had been little time to ensure they would restrain her the first time around, but thankfully, Silaestra did not yet appear to have lost her senses. She simply was watching him, eyes wide and full of fear - no effort made to lunge at his throat or claw out his eyes. For now. For both their sakes, he hoped this precaution would prove to be unnecessary.  She nodded, shifting her weight as she strained against the bindings, trying to pull her wrists apart to test the knot. “I don’t think I can break out of those.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Thank you.”  Astarion waved a hand. “You know, this is certainly not how I pictured you asking me to tie you up.”  Something akin to a weak smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Is that so? What did you have in mind instead?”  It was good, to see just a little of that playful wit of hers shine through, past the fear that still reflected in her eyes. Bhaal hadn’t broken her spirit yet. And if Astarion had anything to say in the matter, he’d make sure it stayed that way.  “Ah, well … for one, I used silk.” He tested the knots again. For her peace of mind more than his own.  The ghost of her smile lingered on her lips. “And there was a bed?” 

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: Speak of the Devil

Chapter Summary: The party comes face to face with the orthon, finally.

(art by @/morebird)

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

Excerpt:

“See? He’s obviously an evil bastard. Can we kill him now? What more do you need to know? I thought we agreed on how to handle the orthon!” She needed to understand. He’d thought she already did, but perhaps - obviously - he’d been mistaken. If he had to beg her to understand, he would. He didn’t care.  The orthon needed to die.  They shouldn’t be talking to the bloody devil! Every moment she spent chatting with it was another moment where what little advantage they had over the fiend dwindled further.  “You can’t help.” The orthon ignored him entirely; his focus was entirely on Silaestra. “It’s not just walls that keep me here. Not the traps, the dark or the creatures it hides. Something stronger holds me - a contract. Either I fulfill the contract, die trying … or forfeit my freedom. If I leave this place now, I’ll become Raphael’s slave.”  “Perhaps there is something you missed?” Silaestra’s tone was still controlled and even; and deadly serious.  Astarion felt his blood run could.  What was she doing? She couldn’t genuinely consider helping the orthon … The very same orthon that he needed to kill if he ever wanted to learn anything about Cazador’s plans.    He could practically hear that cruel voice, taunting him. “Foolish boy. I am the only one you have, the only one who will ever have you. Did you truly think she cared ?” He wanted to tell the bastard to shut up, but … Cazador was right . He had let his guard down, he had started to trust someone and now …  She was going to betray him. She was going to betray him!  She was … 

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: Aftershock

Chapter Summary: As things calm down, Shadowheart realises something important, and Silaestra tries to process what she saw down in the Illithid colony.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

Excerpt:

She was almost painfully aware of Karlach’s presence as they left the room. The heat that radiated off of her, her scent . She tried not to think about how much hotter that engine seemed to burn now, how much louder it hummed now.  “Listen, I know this is a lot right now, but honestly? I don’t know how much time I’ve got left. And I’d fucking hate taking this to my grave, so here goes …”  Karlach had looked so nervous.  And Shadowheart had asked for more time.  But time was one thing they did not have, wasn’t it?  Perhaps that was where this hollowness in her came from, that nagging feeling in her stomach.  It wasn’t even new; watching Isobel and Aylin reunite had only made it more apparent. More present. And now, it was almost unbearable, and it’s taste was had become ever more bitter.  But she didn’t have to bear it any longer, didn’t she?  Before she could loose her nerve, Shadowheart whirled around.  There was surprise in Karlach’s face as she pulled her down, hooking her fingers into her neckline, as she raised to her tip toes to meet her half-way. She’d been so stupid to ever think she’d be happy and content with just that one night. That she could simply let go after that.  How could she have thought that? This was Karlach. One didn’t simply move on from her. And Shadowheart was so tired of pretending that she could.  She pulled Karlach into a kiss.  Karlach’s big, strong arms almost immediately circled around her, pulling her closer. The look of surprise in her eyes faded to baffled but happy smile. Her lips were hot against Shadowheart’s mouth, kissing her back firmly and eagerly. A happy giggle bubbled in Karlach’s throat. It was infectious.  Shadowheart found herself smiling back.  No, one didn’t simply move on from Karlach. And she didn’t want to, not anymore.  When they finally broke away, Karlach was grinning. “I thought you needed time to think?”

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: No Rest for the Wicked

Chapter Summary: The party finally leaves the Shadowcursed Lands behind, but the Absolute gives them little time to enjoy the sun.

(art by @/dafna-winchester)

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

Excerpt:

A nightmare. It had just been a nightmare.  But one that could come true so very easily. Even now, her fingers wanted to twitch, her muscles tensed to whip around and … He would look so pretty with his throat torn open … Oh, his blood would clot like precious gems around his neck, a gorgeous necklace for a gorgeous corpse …  She pushed the thought as far away as she could.  It was harder than before. The image of him, almost beheaded by her dagger, bleeding from a deep wound in his neck, would not leave her mind. Her fingers itched for a blade. She balled them into a fist and turned around.  His eyes were open.  “Good morning.” His voice was light, almost casual, but there was a tense edge to it. “Is today a ‘I will wed with a delicate veil of blood blooming over your white curls’ kind of day? Because you look rather unwell, love.”  He knew her so well by now. Her stomach twisted. And twisted again, realising he’d been aware of the danger and had still stayed in her tent with her. She didn’t deserve the trust he showed her. Just another reason that he could never know how she felt. She needed him safe and free.  All she could offer was pain and death. It was selfish enough to want to keep him anyway.  “I dreamed.” She managed to stop her fingers from twitching as she reached for his face and gently traced her fingers along his jawline. He rumbled a low hum of approval and leaned into her touch. “This is why I prefer reverie. Mine might be distorted, but I can make sense of them. Dreams are worse …”  “For you, perhaps. I don’t have many pleasant memories to relive.” He wrinkled his nose slightly. “Cazador made sure of that.”  “He will pay for it.” She wanted to promise him that they could make new memories, memories he could relive with fondness instead of fear, but that wasn’t a promise she could give. No matter how much she wanted to.  But she could promise him vengeance, at least. It was the only thing she was good at. Her touch brought death, and death was the least Cazador deserved for all he’d done to Astarion.  A part of her wanted to peel his skin from his bones even now. Plunge her nails into his eye sockets and watch them pop. He would look even prettier dead.  But he wouldn’t. She wanted to be safe for him. She wanted to be someone he could trust, without reservations. It was what he deserved, and it was what she could never be.  He deserved better than her. 

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: The Chosen

Chapter Summary: The party enters the heart of the colony, and several truths are revealed.

(art by @/morebird) Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being.

Excerpt:

A part of Silaestra wondered whether the platform would ever stop its slow descent. Peering over the edge, the bottom of the pit was swallowed by darkness, the likes of which she’d only ever experienced once before - when they had entered the Shadowfell in the Gauntlet of Shar. That seemed a lifetime ago. It was strange to think that it had been only a couple of days since Shadowheart had set Dame Aylin free.  All of that seemed so distant now.  The tadpole behind her eye squirmed and wriggled. But even that felt strangely surreal - as though she was merely observing it, instead of experiencing it for herself.  She tried not to dwell on that.  The Absolute is close. Be prepared. The Dream Guardian’s voice was nearly imperceptible. As though he was struggling to make himself heard.  If she would take off the ring, would she be able to feel what he was fighting on against? What was it like for the others, who had to face whatever it was without a magical trinket to shield them?  Gale rubbed at his brow, wincing. The faint veins that trailed from his eye to his chest glowed dimly. The hand that grasped his quarterstaff was shaking, the tremble so slight that it might be confused for the jostle of the descending platform. Wyll’s eyes were fixed on the floor, brow furrowed with concern, a hand hovering near his brand new rapier.  They both feared what they would find down below.  “We must be prepared to confront the elder brain”, Lae’zel said. She’d drawn her longsword. It’s tip was shaking slightly. “One presides over every ghaik colony.” “No problem.” Astarion’s tone was flippant; or at least, he was trying his hardest to give off the impression. But there was a slight, tense edge to his tone. “And what does this old brain look like?” “A hovering mass of grey matter, sprouted with lethal tentacles and oozing cerebrospinal fluids.” Lae’zel sounded irritated, as though this was the most obvious thing to expect.  She’d never looked more like a frightened child than at this moment.  “Right...” Astarion’s voice cracked slightly. “Good. Glad I asked.”  He was terrified as well.  Silaestra should be too. It would be the logical thing. It was perfectly reasonable, even expected, to be scared of whatever waited for them at the end of their descend. Her palms should be sweating. Her heart should be racing.  Why weren’t they?

[andauril]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter Title: Metamorphosis

Chapter Summary: The group discusses the emperor's "gift", and Shadowheart approaches Silaestra with a personal matter. Also, a wild Yenna appears.

Pairing: Astarion x Female Dark Urge

(art by @/dafna-winchester)

Summary: When Astarion called Silaestra a "kindred spirit", the first time they met, he could never have known how right he ended up being. CW: Intrusive thoughts of harming and killing a child (no children are actually harmed)

Excerpt:

Silaestra sighed. It truly didn’t sound like the girl’s mum would come back. But she couldn’t find it in her to dash Yenna’s hopes. Instead, she reached for her coinpurse and took out a handfull of coins. “I haven’t seen your mum, Yenna. But take these. Buy yourself some food.” The girl was probably starving. The girl’s eyes went wide as she dropped the gold into her palm. “Oh - erm. Thank you so much! I don’t have anything and you can’t do anything without any coin. I’ll pay you back. When I find my mum.” With that, she darted away. Looking for her mother, no doubt, or perhaps to spend some of the coins. “Her mother is probably dead already”, Astarion said. His eyes lingered on the girl’s red hair for a moment, before he turned to look at her. “Likely.” Silaestra sighed. “Poor thing.” His tone was blasé, dismissive. It almost had her fooled - if it wouldn’t be for the fact that his eyes softened, just a little, almost imperceptibly. “And you didn’t scoff at me giving her money.” Now he scoffed, as though he only just remembered that he ought to be disapproving of that. “Oh, please. What are a couple of coins? I can always steal more of those. There are hundreds of people here with pockets just ripe for the picking, darling.” “Yes. That’s sure to be it. It couldn’t be that you’re feeling just a hint of sympathy for the girl.” “Obviously not.” He sounded absolutely disgusted by the idea, but his eyes darted briefly over to where Yenna’s mop of red hair was disappearing within the crowd. Silaestra smirked. “It’s not a bad thing. Caring.” She hadn’t dared to care about anything but herself for so long. So had he, if she were to guess. What time could there have been to worry about others, when he was forced to lure innocents to their deaths every day? She couldn’t blame him for disliking the idea that could have changed. Not when she herself was just as terrified to care. Only she couldn’t help it anymore. Astarion scoffed, and didn’t reply. But his eyes lingered on her anyway, as they entered the overflowing streets of Rivington.