Just thinking about drow!reader whose wife Minthara writes a letter stating she's returning home to her beloved Mistress of House Baenre, ready to resume her role as Matron.
Except... she's bringing home some friends.
You had laughed out loud when you first received her letter, scaring the young girls who surrounded you at the time. Your wife, Minthara, writing to inform you of her impending visit with her… travelling companions? It was a hilarious prospect both to think that your wife made alliances with anyone above the surface and that she appeared to have grown a sense of humour since her departure, yet here you were - opening the door to her very real travelling companions.
“My love.” You smiled, ignoring the people standing behind Minthara. “Welcome home.” You continued, taking her hand in yours. “It is good to be back.” She smiled back at you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before whispering into your ear, “They insisted on coming.” “Of course.” You agreed, a sly smile spreading across your face.
A/N: Let me know if anyone is actually interested in a longer fic of this (probs will be very fluffy)
“Come, love. Let us rack up some more debt against the devil.” Haarlep says, hoisting Raphael into his arms and carrying him to the bed.
Raphael struggles against the bonds as he is dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. Haarlep and I stand over him, watching him writhe. Haarlep is still wearing their undershirt fully unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, and I am wearing my gown, though it is becoming increasingly wrinkled and disheveled. Raphael is perfectly naked and exposed for us to admire at our leisure.
“That move you performed earlier, dear Tav. You are extraordinarily bold...”
“You were throwing him to the ground and slamming him into pillars. It seemed within the bounds of acceptance.” I defend. We are speaking to each other, though primarily watching Raphael squirm and try to break his bonds.
“Come, love. Let us rack up some more debt against the devil.” Haarlep says, hoisting Raphael into his arms and carrying him to the bed.
Raphael struggles against the bonds as he is dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. Haarlep and I stand over him, watching him writhe. Haarlep is still wearing their undershirt fully unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, and I am wearing my gown, though it is becoming increasingly wrinkled and disheveled. Raphael is perfectly naked and exposed for us to admire at our leisure.
“That move you performed earlier, dear Tav. Holding the devil by the testis… very bold.”
“You were throwing him to the ground and slamming him into pillars. It seemed within the bounds of acceptance.” I defend. We are speaking to each other, though primarily watching Raphael squirm and try to break his bonds.
“He did not hate it, but he was surprised; a color I do not often see on him shining so brightly. You understand, I’m sure, that he will retaliate. Raphael does take his beatings so very well, though he is happiest when there is a never-ending game of escalation. But I will always be here to ensure you are safe and the games are not taken too far for a delicate mortal.”
“I’m really not that delicate,” I say, a little offended.
“But you are mortal. Therefore, delicate. Come now, whatever shall we do with our captive? Have you had a lover at your disposal in such a way before, little dove? Bound and ready for you?”
“Erm. No, actually.” I admit, I suddenly feel a little shy and inexperienced. I’ve only ever been restrained or restrained others for practicality- never for sex. It has intrigued me, though… I remember suddenly the way Astarion purred, how he liked seeing me helpless when I wandered unwittingly into some tangling vines and how that made my body heat up. I’ve always enjoyed a bit of a playful tussle with a lover, one of us pinning the other with our bodies, but in the way of props, I’m a novice.
Raphael lets out a little huff of condescending laughter into his gag. Gods, only the smuggest of creatures can manage to look condescending while they’re the one tied up!
“Do not feel embarrassed, dear heart! This is a most exciting opportunity for you. Shall I show you how I might like to play with him?” Haarlep asks.
“Oh, yes!” I’m so relieved to have some of the pressure off of me to come up with the next steps. Haarlep does not need further encouragement as they hop up onto the bed with Raphael who has managed to sit up, only to be pushed right back down on his back. Haarlep sits to the side of him, hovering over Raphael, who’s erection is stiffening steadily, fire seeming to radiate from his eyes.
“For all of Raphael’s vanity,” Haarlep says, tracing a clawed finger from Raphael’s ear, down his jaw, “He is a work of true beauty, is he not? He is composed, strong, and exudes power. Positively regal in many aspects.” Haarlep’s hands explore Raphael’s chest, moving downward toward his abdomen, “And yet, for all of his power, his magic, his lineage, his influence… Raphael would let himself be tied up and at the disposal of his little mouse. For that is all you really want right now, isn’t it, Raphael? The approval and validation of a surface mortal?”
Raphael grunts into the gag, a pointless attempt to refute the claim.
“You can deny and protest all you like, dear master, but this,”Haarlep runs a finger up the length of Raphael’s erection, causing a shudder, “is for her. Not I. It is for your ‘little mouse’. Do you see how hard he is for you, darling Tav?”
I swallow and allow myself to look unabashedly at Raphael’s cock. Thick and long, with veins decorating its length. I catch Raphael looking at me, admiring him and I’m given a look of satisfaction with something like anticipation? Longing? A grudging affirmation of Haarlep's words?
I go to sit on the other side of the bed so that Raphael is lying between Haarlep and me.
“He wants you to touch him. He craves it.” Haarlep tells me, “He does not care much how you do it; be it soft and sweet or aggressive and sharp.”
“Is that right?” I ask, looking Raphael directly in the eyes. His look, with an eyebrow arched, seems to affirm this, but there is a confidence too; as if he is positive I want him just as badly. I lean down so I am a mere breath away from his ear so he can see my hand hovering just over his erection as if to stroke it.
“Than you should have listened to me the first time when I told you to take off your pants,” I whisper, and I see his body shiver before I lean over him and kiss Haarlep. We kiss deeply, it feels familiar now with them. We are steepled over Raphael’s squirming, frustrated body, kissing sloppily. A small string of saliva falls and lands on Raphael’s chest. We reach for each other, moving in as close as we can, Raphael squeezed between our bent legs on the bed. We grope and pull each other’s hair, nails digging into muscled arms, hands caressing faces. There is an occasional hand reaching down to touch the soft hair on Raphael’s abdomen, even lightly tickling up his desperate erection, but Raphael is more set dressing than an active participant.
Haarlep and I are each still clothed; my dress now crumpled and hair increasingly disheveled and Haarlep is still wearing his trousers and undershirt, though it is unbuttoned. Only Raphael is exposed fully and though I enjoy this dynamic of power, I want more skin. I want to see all of Haarlep, and I want my own body available to be touched. I pull the shoulder down on Haarlep’s undershirt and it is quickly abandoned. Haarlep is somehow able to remove their pants without hardly stopping from kissing me and all of a sudden, I am the only clothed one.
“My sweet pet, remove that dress now or else I shall have no choice but to tear it off of you.” Haarlep says, breathless and hungry, “Do not be unfair to us by creating an imbalance as well as denying us the sight of your body.”
“I don’t know, I kind of like being on this end of the imbalance,” I say playfully with a smirk, “I’m usually on poor, unattended Raphael’s side.” I run a finger along the length of his torso, ignoring the glare Raphael is shooting at me.
“Pet. Do not become too drunk with power, or it will become my duty to sober you.” Haarlep says, a note of warning in their voice.
“How about just a bit tipsy with power?” I challenge. Haarlep hops off of the bed and I know they are coming for me. I push my luck a bit further and hop off the bed as well, dashing away. Haarlep grins.
“You are no better than he at times, pet.” Haarlep says with affectionate exasperation, nodding at Raphael behind him who is straining to see, “Wishing to be hunted and caught. Were the House of Hope free from guests, I would set you free and give you hours to try to hide from me before I track you down by trailing the scent of your lust.”
I have managed to get to one side of Raphael’s large desk, which now seems to be where Haarlep’s ropes and other such accouterments are laid out. It is big enough that Haarlep cannot reach me over it, and we are at an impasse. Haarlep occasionally rushes towards one side, causing me to giggle as I try to outmaneuver their fake-outs.
Haarlep gives me a wicked smile and suddenly disappears, evaporating from sight. I cannot hear them or sense them anywhere. Raphael laughs softly into his gag. I try to see where Raphael is looking, but it’s only at me with a look of false pity, shaking his head.
“Where… are they? Haarlep?” I reach my hands out, hoping to touch them, but only grasp at air. Several long moments pass, and I back away from the desk—the feeling of being watched by someone waiting to strike is nearly unbearable, and every nerve in my body is standing on edge.
“Where in the hells—”
“Boo.” Haarlep’s voice says softly into my ear. I yelp and turn to the voice, but do not see anything- Haarlep is still invisible. From behind me again, a swift smack on my ass followed by a chuckle as I swing my arm around to find this incubus.
“Haarlep!” I admonish, but it’s undercut by my laughter as another smack comes from behind me- always behind, no matter how quickly I turn. Suddenly, there is a ripping sound, and my back is exposed to the cool air of the room. I yelp again and have to hold the bodice of my dress up with my arms, for Haarlep has somehow cut or torn it enough that it would otherwise fall.
“Stop it!” I say, and Haarlep materializes in front of me, holding an enormous knife that looks like it is designed to kill rather than safely cut away clothing.
Raphael grunts angrily into his gag, eyeing the knife.
“Yes, my darling, I know this is a precious find, one of its kind, made by a people now extinct and so on and so forth,” Haarlep says to Raphael, sounding bored and twirling the knife around carelessly between their fingers, “But what good is a tool on display only? And what better use could a tool have than to remove such restricting clothing from such a pet who longs for freedom.” Haarlep turns to me, “Come now, pet. Take the dress off or I will slice it to ribbons.”
“You used that?”I ask in surprise and a touch of fear. Am I bleeding and somehow did not notice? It is not a scalpel- it is more of a scimitar! Haarlep moves their arm in a flourish, and the sleeve on my right arm is open, but my skin is untouched. Another flourish, and there is suddenly another slit in my skirt. And another. It does not matter if I leap back; Haarlep is unnaturally agile, cutting with surgical precision.
“A deft hand has many uses, dear. I do recommend you abandon your modesty though. Even I have made a mistake on the rare occasion. I would hate for you to be the victim of it.”
I consider pushing the matter even further but the truth is, I am craving touch. With a coy smile, I let the fabric of what remains of my dress drop, exposing myself.
“Perfect.” Haarlep says, and tosses the knife onto the desk with no effort to care for the artifact. There is a clatter and another annoyed grunt from Raphael, which is ignored, “What a perfect, good girl you are.” Haarlep walks over to kiss me and I wrap my arms around their waist, lowering them more to feel their firm, round buttocks. Haarlep’s hands stay at my sides, and they lead me back towards the bed, Raphael still bound and watching.
“I have an idea, pet. One that will get our devil begging for you before long. Would you like to try it?” Haarlep says into my neck in between kissing it. I nod, not even bothering to ask what the plan is. Haarlep's body warms suddenly, and when they pull back from my neck, they are wearing Raphael’s cambion form, a wide smile on their face.
The real Raphael grunts into his gag angrily. Haarlep snaps their fingers, and the rope that has been restricting Raphael’s speech slithers away to neatly arrange itself by others on Raphael’s desk.
“How many times must I tell you to ask before you wear my form, Haarlep?” Raphael growls.
"How many times must I tell you to ask before you wear my form, Haarlep?” Haarlep imitates absolutely perfectly.
“Haarlep. Stop this.” Raphael says calmly and with authority.
“Haarlep. Stop this.” Haarlep imitates before giving me a big wink. I don’t bother stifling my giggle.
“Positively insufferable.” They both say at the same time and in the same manner. Raphael frowns in what can only be described as a defeated pout.
“Oh, do not be childish, Raphael. It is all in good fun.” Haarlep scolds and I could swear a new vein is popping out of Raphael’s forehead from frustration. Haarlep goes to sit next to Raphael on the bed, and I watch them both. Two Raphaels, one human, one cambion. One bound and at my mercy, the other with what I’m beginning to think is more power than I know.
With a quick, mischievous exchange of looks, I know Haarlep's plan, and I love it. I crawl onto the foot of the bed and begin making my way toward Raphael, who looks pleasantly surprised at my attention.
“Nothing can compare to the original, can it?” I say, kissing in a little line down his jaw.
“Indeed not.” He agrees, angling his head so I can kiss more of his jaw and throat.
I push him back so he is lying on his bound arms, and I straddle Raphael. I kiss his neck. I kiss his chest, letting my hands wander. I kiss down his abdomen, fingers trailing along his sides. I keep kissing and maneuvering myself down, and his hardness has returned in full. His cock is a beautiful dark, dark pink. I kiss the inside of his hip and feel his buttocks flex, as if beckoning me for the next, natural step in my progression.
My eyes flick to Raphael’s, his chest heaving, cock throbbing, eyes demanding more. I open mouth and run my tongue over my lips, lowering my head. At the last possible moment I turn, lean over, and begin to suck Haarlep’s cock instead.
Haarlep’s head rolls back in satisfaction and Raphael is left sputtering for the sudden change. I climb off of Raphael and onto the larger, cambion version of him that is Haarlep.
“Cruel woman.” Raphael groans, as I take Haarlep into my mouth as deeply as I can, licking from the base to tip.
“Smart girl,” Haarlep says, gently stroking my hair, guiding me up and down their erection, “It is as if your mind read mine like a book. Can you feel it, Raphael? A mere phantom of the sensations I have in your form? It is enough to keep you well aroused, but never, never quite enough to satisfy you properly.”
“Of course I feel it.” Raphael says, face red with frustration, but eyes clearly enjoying the sight. How odd it must be, I think, to see yourself having sex from a point of view other than what could be seen in a mirror or your own eyes. To see another version of yourself right next to you with an object of your desire and receiving only the scraps of that version's pleasure.
“What if,” Raphael says, managing to sit upright, “we rejoin our extraordinary forces, Haarlep? You, taking her mouth, and I, her slit. We have discussed as much in fantasies, no?”
I attempt to bring my head up to add something, to playfully protest or tease of how this has been a shared fantasy of theirs, but Haarlep’s hand, palming my skull does not allow for it. I am guided gently but unyieldingly up and down, drooling now onto this cambion’s cock while Haarlep considers Raphael’s words.
“And if I wanted her mouth instead, you would give it to me?”
“Of course. We could share or exchange any great number of times. How restless she seems to be for my form. It would be a kindness to your pet as well, would it not? Give her everything she desires in duplicate.”
Shit. He really is a good deal-maker. I try to make eye contact with Haarlep, wondering if they will give me a chance for a counteroffer. When Haarlep does not, and instead holds their chin as if in consideration with the hand not guiding my head, I dig my nails into their hips.
“Oh! The kitten has claws, it seems!” Haarlep says, holding onto my hair more tightly, “Now, pet. You know I adore you so, but this is not the first time tonight you have been less than obedient for me. I do not wish to resort to charms or threats to gain your compliance, but I am not above it. Is this clear, little kitten?” Haarlep lifts my head from their cock, allowing me to speak.
“Charms and threats?” I challenge, and immediately regret not simply confirming that yes, this is clear, and no, I will not disobey. Haarlep, with Raphael’s face, grins a slow crooked grin.
“You have felt the effects of my charms before, the magic that intoxicates you into wanting nothing more than to please me. I have not performed this since the beginning of your stay, since I felt your distaste for it, and because, well, you please me so well on your own terms. But as for threats…” Haarlep's smile widens further, and I feel I am looking only at Raphael, a cruel trick up their sleeve, “You and I both know of some… naughtiness that will not easily be forgiven by our present company.”
My heart drops into my stomach. Haarlep wouldn’t tell Raphael that I went to the surface. They wouldn’t tell that level of betrayal. They wouldn’t. They were complicit!
Raphael’s interest sharpens in on this to a fine point. His shoulders square suddenly, as much as his bindings allow. His eyes watch me like a hawk, looking for any kind of tell as to what the ‘naughtiness’ could be, looking for the magnitude that could be judged by my reaction. I carefully keep my face neutral while screaming and cursing at Haarlep.
“Well then.” I say, trying to sound playful and sexy and innocent, “I suppose I had better be on my best behavior.”
“I suppose so.” Haarlep says, reaching forward to practically lift me by my waist so I am up on them, straddling their hips, a massive cock pressed between Haarlep's lower belly and my pussy. Haarlep’s hands reach upwards and they begin rolling my breasts in circles.
“But you are a good girl and I know you can make smart decisions,” Haarlep says slowly, almost in a perfect approximation of Raphael’s speech. The way Haarlep plays with my breasts and the feeling of their hard, hot cock against my clit feels so, so good, I can’t help but begin to hump the underside of Haarlep’s erection, wanting to be rubbed and filled.
“A good girl knows to be as wet as you are for me. A good girl knows how to drool onto a cock the way you do. A good girl nods her head when she is told. Nod your head, good girl.” Haarlep commands and I nod my head, wanting more of whatever Haarlep is willing to give me. I am rewarded with my nipples being pulled lightly, making my head roll back. I hump faster, forward and backward, up and down, in little hungry circles. Haarlep’s cock- and Raphael’s is hard as steel, slicked with my juices. Raphael is breathing heavily, watching and enjoying the echoes of sensations passed his way. He and I both are glassy-eyed and increasingly desperate.
“There she is. My good, tasty girl. Right next to my good, bound devil. Two lovely, obedient things for me. Do you want to hear what will happen next?” Haarlep asks Raphael and I both. Haarlep has one hand on Raphael’s head, the other high on my thigh. I nod willingly, enthusiastically, and Raphael’s head is guided in a nod by Haarlep. A sudden rush of heat happens between my legs and Haarlep has assumed their usual form.
“What happens next is this: Raphael, you will taste the sweet juice my pet has left on my cock—not yours. But you will taste and suck with as much fervor as if it were your own. Pet, you will come to sit on my face. Do not be shy about this, for I am your throne tonight. You will watch the devil who has kept you captive, pleasure your true master, and the three of us will enjoy as one. If you are both perfect in the way I know you can be, then you will be permitted to finish but only after I do. Raphael, you are to begin.”
I am gently guided off of Haarlep and Raphael is forced to maneuver, still tied up, between Haarlep’s legs. He does so with surprising grace and I wonder how familiar he is with this exact position. Arms bound behind his back, ankles together and bent over, Raphael takes Haarlep’s substantial cock into his mouth, moaning lightly in that baritone rumble of his.
“And? How does she taste on me?” Haarlep prompts
“The juices of the ripest, most exotic fruit atop an extravagant platter. A feast for gods.” Raphael says, looking to me first, then Haarlep. I wonder if Haarlep’s heart flutters in their chest, hearing Raphael speak or if they are more used to it than I am.
“Very pretty words. Now, show my pet just how deeply you can take this cock into those poetic lips.” Haarlep pushes Raphael’s head down, down, down. Nearly the entire length disappears past Raphael’s into Raphael’s mouth before his head is back up again, tongue swirling around the tip. Haarlep lets out a long exhale of satisfaction, leans back on their forearms to watch Raphael for a while before reclining all the way.
“Come now, pet. Your throne awaits.” Haarlep reaches for me, and helps me position myself so I am facing Raphael, and positioned directly above Haarlep’s mouth. My hips are pulled down roughly, and Haarlep begins to absolutely devour me. It feels as if there are two tongues in one mouth, and it is such a sudden escalation that I lose my balance, falling forward and grab onto Raphael’s head for support. He does not seem to mind and continues rhythmically sucking on Haarlep, whose arms are holding me tightly to their face while I guide and hold onto Raphael’s hair. We are something of a bizarre machine, working in tandem, each amplifying the others arousal.
I have to hold back my orgasm that Haarlep seems to be trying to force out of me, lest I break the rules they put into place. Distantly, I wonder again if they would really, truly tell Raphael of my trip to the surface and if so- what would the consequences be? But such thoughts are not for me to think too much on now- and how could I anyway, when Haarlep’s hand begins to grope at my breasts. I let out a deep moan and begin pumping Raphael’s head more quickly, hoping Haarlep is at least as close as I am.
Not much longer after, I can see from under me, Haarlep’s abdominal muscles clench and feel their claws press into my thighs hard enough to break skin. Raphael does not so much as sputter or cough as he drinks down Haarlep’s ejaculate easily. The bindings holding his arms and legs release and slide back to the table like obedient snakes.
I am still being held tightly and eaten hungrily by Haarlep, who seems to be empowered by their orgasm, while mine approaches steadily.
Raphael slides off the bed, rubbing his wrists and rolling his shoulders now free to move and speak as he pleases. He comes to stand next to Haarlep and I on the bed. His fingers weave through my hair in a very similar way to how I had him an it only takes one sentence, whispered into my ear to send me over the edge into bliss:
“Come right now. I need to fuck you.”
And I do. I come right as Raphael demands on Haarlep’s face. My orgasm is not even over before Raphael pulls me from Haarlep and bends me over the bed and slides into me with ease.
His cock is big and hard, stretching me from the inside while my body still clenches around him. His erection fills me immediately and he begins to pump slowly.
“Raphael…” I whimper, needing more. Needing less? It’s hard to say, one orgasm bidden from the nerves of my clitoris rages in me while another one from deep inside my core is being stirred. It’s too much!
“Breathe, little one. You can take it.” Raphael’s voice soothes me, a hand rubbing my ass with more tenderness than I’ve felt from him before. I focus on my breathing, realizing I was holding all my air in my lungs. Raphael pumps more quickly now, his hands gripping my hips, keeping me in place.
“Good girl. Keep breathing. Yes. Fuck, you feel sinfully divine.” Raphael exhales, “So tight, so wet. Do it again. Come. Come with me.”
For the third time, out of three times, I obediently orgasm when the devil tells me to. This one overlaps with the last one, causing me to push my face into the fabric of the bedding so I am not heard throughout all the hells. Raphael comes too, a long, deep, resonant moan as he scratches his fingernails along my back, teetering on painful.
Our deep breaths while we recover are in synchronization with each other and I feel as if my entire body is made out some kind of sand, so heavy and full. Raphael removes himself from me and helps lift me onto the bed while little spasms intermittently cause me to shake.
“You have climaxed every single time I’ve asked you, little mouse. Have you noticed this?” Raphael says, sitting next to me and smoothing my hair.
“I don’t think that’s true.” I lie. Raphael smiles and continues to smooth my hair while Haarlep appears with two glasses of water. I was so entrenched in my back-to-back climaxes I had briefly lost track of Haarlep.
“They are both for my pet.” Haarlep says, handing the glass to me as I sit up and keeping the other just out of Raphael’s reach.
Raphael snatches the glass from Haarlep in a quick motion while they share an annoyed yet amused look. There is something really sweet about their dynamic, I muse to myself, they’re almost domestic.
Suddenly, a horrifying thought comes to me. The voice of Mephistopheles demanding an offspring sounds in my mind like a terrible echo. Typically, if I am having sex with someone with a penis, we make sure a potion or a spell or a condom is being used to avoid pregnancy but…
“Raphael, you didn’t…” I start
“No, do not worry about such things here,” Raphael says easily, knowing my question before it is asked.
“Raphael could not stand being demoted to the second most popular devil if a baby were brought into the House of Hope.” Haarlep teases, taking the water back from Raphael and finishing it themselves. Raphael smirks at this, a rare allowance of a joke at his expense.
“Besides, the only creature in all the realms less suited for parenthood than I is Mephistopheles,” Raphael adds.
I feel my chest relax. Suddenly, I am so incredibly tired. I have perhaps never had a day, possibly two straight days of no rest, and so much excitement. Haarlep crawls over Raphael, pushing him to the side so they are between us and wraps an arm around each of our shoulders. Haarlep feels so nice and warm, I snuggle into their chest, wrapping an arm around their middle.
“What happens now?” I ask, trying to keep my eyes open.
“Haarlep and I must return to the party,” Raphael says, standing and collecting his clothes. “It would make us poor hosts to leave our guests unattended for any longer. We are approaching the point where the true debauchery is going to ensue, at any rate.”
Haarlep holds me close, not moving or gathering their clothes yet.
“I will stay a while longer here.” Haarlep says, “Send our pet to slumber before rejoining. She has had a busy enough night, it will not take long.”
“Very well.” Raphael says, dressing quickly. “You may rest here. Do not leave when you awake, for this is the safest room in the House, and your value has recently increased to a degree where security must be taken into consideration. Rest well, for we have some further negotiations to discuss.” Raphael morphs back into his cambion form and calls over his shoulder, "And don't think I'll forget to pry whatever secrets you were keeping from me out of you later. I have no shortage of ways to extract such information."
Raphael turns, gives me a small wink equal parts terrifying and flirtatious, and walks through the threshold back to the party.
“Oh, he can be rather fun at times, can he not?” Haarlep says, pulling me onto their chest. They are so warm and strong, I feel sleep pulling at me insistently while Haarlep pets my hair and rubs my back.
“There’s my good, sweet pet. Rest now, for you have done so well. Did you enjoy yourself?”
I nod my head sleepily, only half listening.
“I am glad. You deserve nothing but the best, my pet. My sweet girl. You trust me to keep you safe, yes?”
I nod my head, ever sleepier, the edges of reality fading away. Haarlep kisses the top of my head.
“And keep you safe, I will. I will keep you so safe, so happy, so satisfied. You will never want to leave us. You will never leave me. You can’t.”
So I went to a Fan Expo this weekend and got two fan artworks, one of Astarion from Baulder’s Gate 3 and Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Now I want to write a fic for them. Would anyone be interested in an Astarion x Belle fanfic???
Contemptuous Creatures Ch. 15; 'What Did You Expect Me to Do?'
Feel free to check out my Ao3 Full chapter beneath the cut but also:
Tell me what you want to see happen! What are you freaks into these days? My little writer brain has too many ideas and not sure how dark I want to get with it.
Music Inspo for this chapter includes Rule #34 by Fish in A Birdcage, First Flame by Glum Aleks, and Copycat by Billie Eilish
I slip inside and am greeted with a rhythmic thump, thump, thumping as my eyes adjust to the dim light.
Raphael is bent over the side of a bed in his human form, pants down by his ankles, shirts tossed aside. His hair is being grasped tightly, head forced back by Haarlep who is fucking him relentlessly in the ass, while scratching his back with the other hand, leaving thin trails of blood.
“Oh, hello, pet!” Haarlep greets me happily, as Raphael collapses on the bed in an orgasm.
“Shit. Oh, shit. Sorry! I didn’t mean to erm…” I say, frozen in place, unsure if it is smarter to leave or stay
“Mmmph-- I thought you locked the door, Haarlep.” Raphael says, lifting himself up on his forearms. Raphael does not appear embarrassed, merely irritated as Haarlep pulls out from his behind. Raphael flexes and stretches, evoking an image of a powerful lion, muscles rippling throughout his back and arms.
“It must have slipped my mind,” Haarlep says with no effort to be convincing. “We are all here now, though. Shall we stay and talk for a short while? Or not talk, if you’re so inclined.”
Raphael cleans himself up and tosses another towel over to Haarlep, who does the same before flopping down onto the bed and taking a pull from the hookah on the nightstand.
Looking around the room, it seems like it is meant for the exact purpose it was being used for. The room is elegant, but not nearly as large or decorated as Raphael's or Haarlep’s personal spaces. The generous bed dominates the center of the room. A plush set of chairs faces the bed, likely for guests to watch, and there is a washbasin with plenty of towels. A hookah on each nightstand on either side of the head.
“Absolutely not.” Raphael says, pulling his pants back over his hips, and striding over to where his other clothes have been tossed on one of the chairs. “This was only meant to be a brief reprieve-“
Very brief I think as I consider that Helsik and I spoke for maybe two minutes.
“-And it is impolite to leave our guests waiting. Did you need something, mouse? Or are you just scurrying into any hole you can fit your whiskers into to hide?” Raphael says, annoyed as he buttons his white undershirt. My eyes are drawn to the hair on his tanned, strong chest-
“Why are you in your human form?” I ask as soon as the question popped into my head. I am met with a hard stare from Raphael. Haarlep’s eyebrows raise as if I asked the exact wrong thing. “…Never mind then. I wanted to make sure at least one of you was present in case your dear guests forgot about the contract.”
“You really are a needy one, aren’t you?” Raphael says, shrugging the jacket onto his broad shoulders, and I catch Haarlep rolling their eyes behind him.
“I sure am. I completely understand if you need to let me out of this contract. I’d be happy to get out of your hair.”
“Nice try, little mouse.” Raphael says with a dark chuckle, smoothing his hair and making the final adjustments to his appearance in the mirror before facing me, “You belong here now. Dance with you like, drink with who you like, or share a precious flirt with any who catch your eye; nothing will change the facts. You are mine. And you won’t be leaving until I say so.”
“Or when you get the Orphic Hammer back.” I assert sternly. Raphael holds my gaze for a long moment and I cannot quite read his expression. Angry? Amused? It is so carefully neutral that there is no hint as to what he is thinking. Suddenly, he transforms into his cambion form, towering over me.
“This has taken up more than enough of my time. You have behaved well so far, little one. You will be paid in kind so long as you continue to remember your rules: No leaving until I give you permission. You are not to insult my guests. You are not to speak to Mephistopheles. A few more hours, I think, and you shall be free to retire for the evening.”
Raphael leaves the room without a further word or even a look to either Haarlep or me. As soon as the door clicks shut, I turn to Haarlep who is blowing rings of smoke lazily laying on their back.
“That was… erm, quick.” I say, trying not to keep my eyes on Haarlep’s face, “I was hardly two minutes behind you two. I wasn’t expecting to walk in on… that.”
“Hm. You don’t smell offended or scandalized.” Haarlep says with a playful grin and an exaggerated sniff, rolling over on their belly, “Do I even detect some jealousy? Perhaps a touch of disappointment that the show was so brief?”
“Oh, shut up.” I say, blushing a little because Haarlep is exactly correct. I accept a pull from the mouth of the hookah Haarlep holds out to me and sit next to them on the bed.
“Perhaps we can arrange a more stimulating viewing soon. Raphael can actually be a rather creative and titillating lover…well, when he is in the mood for putting in the effort for such things. This was a simple release of pressure lest he explode from the steam swirling inside him.”
“What made him so upset that you had to emergency-fuck him?” I ask, passing the hookah back
“Oh, I certainly should not tell you... But I will anyway. Raphael should not have left me with so much spare time.” Haarlep says with a wicked grin, “You- and all of your friends for that matter- have become something along the lines of famous here. A set of desirable collectible items that could be the crown jewel of any treasure. The half-elf and gith who have disobeyed their goddesses, the wizard who was cast out for his aspiration… Mizora, and Zariel by extension, already has the human warlock and briefly had your teifling as well.” Haarlep sits upright now, perched on their knees, tail swishing behind them. Their head is tilted, and they are looking at me curiously, “And now, you enter the scene: a brave, pretty little thing who has survived on wits and luck without being previously tainted by having a previous owner. You answer to no particular god, and you’ve never served a master before like your vampire Astarion…you’re something of a virgin flower awaiting to be plucked. Raphael has you by the stem, but your roots are still yours. He is fearing other gardeners.”
“Can’t I be a tree or a… thorn bush? I don’t like how fragile you make me sound.” I say. I know that’s not the point of this metaphor, but it is tiring being condescended to so frequently.
“Of course, my pet. You may be whatever plant you wish.” Haarlep says with a smile, just as condescending as any other, but affectionate at least. “The matter remains that there is much interest in you. Zariel’s sights are set on acquiring you one way or another, and Raphael does not relish losing his prize so quickly. Especially if you desire to leave him in favor of joining the fallen angel.”
“Nothing would make me want to join Zariel—I’d sooner lose my life. She’s despicable for what she’s done to Karlach. She’s despicable for everything she’s done, really.”
“Yet you dance so close with her second in command? It is clear Mizora was sent to tempt you away from here. It is clear you were tempted.”
“I mean, I find Mizora tempting.” I admit with a little smile, and Haarlep nods with understanding, “but she can’t seduce me away to join Zariel’s ranks. My only focus is to survive here until my friends come to get me or Gale finds some loophole in the contract.” An odd look crosses over Haarlep’s face before being composed into their usual flirtatious smile. They’re hiding something.
“That is pleasing to hear. I must admit, I would miss my little pet.” Haarlep stands and begins to dress, “But you are terribly and wonderfully distracting, and now, it is I who must become the distraction. Clients await.”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask, wondering if whatever semi-friendship we have is strong enough to pry another secret from Haarlep.
“So very many, many things, my dear one.” Haarlep responds coyly as they finish buttoning their jacket, “We haven’t the time to sort through them all, and if we do not rejoin the party soon, Raphael will come drag you back out himself. I promise you would not like that flavor of his ire. However… do dance with Mizora again if you so wish, it follows within the bounds of the master’s rules and does irritate him so beautifully.”
“I just might.” I say, “Can I ask one more quick question; why was Raphael in his human form when I walked in on you?” Haarlep laughs at this, while they fix their hair and make final adjustments in the mirror.
“If we do not have time for you to take all my secrets, we certainly do not have time to unpack Raphael’s relationship with having sex in his human skin. Though he would tell you it is because that lovely little ring of his is much tighter that way. Come now, let us return.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” I say and follow Haarlep out. I had always imagined Raphael to be more dominant in bed- though perhaps that is just how he acts around me, constantly demanding my submission. Seeing Raphael bent over the side of the bed, writhing through Haarlep’s thrusts, was a surprise, though not an unpleasant one. The hair plastered to his forehead, arms tense and flexing as he gripped the sheets, it was a sight I wouldn’t mind walking in on again…
Haarlep slips something into my hand as they kiss me on the cheek and whisper, “You’re so close, pet. Stay hidden and collect a secret or two of your own. They are far more valuable than any gold.”
Haarlep is gone- or possibly transformed into someone else- before I can look back up from my hand to thank them. A small invisibility potion, clear as water sits in my palm. I peek around to see if anyone is watching me, slip behind a large marble pillar, and down the potion. The effects won’t last long, I know this, but since I cannot hide behind the cheese table anymore, this will buy me some time to find a new hiding spot.
As I weave through tables and crowds undetected, I see that Haarlep and Raphael are now moving the center of the ballroom. Others dance as well, but there is a clear bubble of space, giving them control to move in a space to a song that feels like it was made just for them. Perhaps this is another form of how Raphael blows off steam.
They move in perfect synchronization from head to tail, smiling at each other with a knowing, familiar gaze that seems to suggest the centuries they’ve been something like partners. They change who is leading effortlessly and frequently. Were it not for the slight differences in their outfits, it would be nearly impossible to tell who is who, for when they dance, their movements seem to come to a mid-point between Raphale’s precision and Haarlep’s playfulness.
The dance is intimate, sensual and with a tension that suggests decades if not centuries of powerplay. They push each other around in a way that almost seems aggressive or sexual. Lifts and dips that nearly look like they’ll drop each other but they never do. Turns that would leave most too dizzy to move, but they always catch each other at the last possible moment.
“Have you ever seen anything so ostentatious?” Says one of the cambion onlookers to another.
“Ha! I’m tempted to agree, but you have to admit. They are impressive. You couldn’t move like that if you had a hundred years of practice.”
Another set of voices from not too far away grabs my attention. Cirrus, and two other devils I don’t recognize are chatting and standing around a table with their drinks. It doesn’t take long to guess who or what they’re talking about.
“…Easy- I’d skin her.” Says a large, masculine blue devil, “feed her bones to the imps and have the rest myself.”
“That’s not the game though, Arling--” says Cirrus, “What would you do if you were under contract to keep her alive and not harm her?”
“Sell her to Zariel for a hefty price and watch her kill and torture the little wretch then.”
“Oh, you’re no fun. Besides, Zariel wouldn’t kill her. Not right away anyway.” Says a feminine red cambion wearing an emerald green gown. She is swaying a little, and I think she may be drunk. “I think I’d just keep her naked in the glass case where the hammer was until I got it back. Have her be a living display and let others play with her for a sufficient sum. Maybe fill the case with water so she has to tread it to breathe, almost always drowning. Or- have her clean the House of Hope top to bottom with her tongue every day. Naked, of course.”
“A little bit of a one-track mind there, Estrie, but not bad.” Arling says, “Maybe endless nightmares? Put her in a sleep so her body is safe, but she has the sensations of burning alive in her dreams?”
“Yeah, but you don’t’ get to see it that way.” Estrie says with a pout. My stomach churns and I make an effort to remember their names and faces to be sure I avoid these three with care.
“I don’t know, I think there’s an elegance to Raphael’s technique,” Cirrus says thoughtfully, “She’s clearly under the impression he would ever let her go permanently so she’s being strung along like a hopeful pup, playing along with all of his little demands--”
“Oh yes, Hope! that was the name of his last pet, wasn’t it? Whatever happened to her?” Interrupts Arling. My ears perk up at Hope’s name, wondering what else they know about her.
“Oh, who knows? Kept locked away in a cage somewhere or dead if she got lucky. It seems this Tav is the new celebrity until Raphael tires of her, too. But my gold says he’ll trade her to Zariel for more Avernus territory.” Says Estrie.
“He can’t, though, right? They have a contract I think. She’ll go free if the other mortals bring back the hammer.” Says Cirrus
“Don’t be naive.” Arling says with a scoff, “Raphael rushed that contract and had no idea that Tav would become so valuable. You think Mizora isn’t already combing through bylaws and clauses the stupid mortals missed? There must be a dozen ways to amend it.”
I can feel the tingle all over my skin, letting me know that the potion will be wearing off in a matter of seconds. I rush to hide behind a marble pillar, hoping my sudden reappearance won’t be noticed in this busy room. I try to keep my composure, though my heart is pounding while I take in all of this new information.
‘…’She’s under the impression he would ever let her go’…
… ‘There must be a dozen ways to amend the contract’…”
…Hope, locked away in a cage somewhere or dead…”
My heart breaks for Hope. I want to find her, get her free. Maybe if I’m ‘valuable’ enough, I can renegotiate Hope’s fate as well as my own in a new contract. Maybe Mizora was right, maybe the only one who can break a devil’s contract is another devil… But then again…
’I’d sell her to Zariel and watch her torture and kill the wretch’
‘Put her in a sleep and give her the sensation of burning alive in her dreams.’
’Let others play with her for a sufficient sum.’
It seems like, compared to these horrifying fantasies, I am positively pampered. The room without time is by far the worst thing I’ve experienced here, but aside from that, it seems Raphael has been quite tame with me.
“I’ve grown quite fond of you, in my way…” comes the memory of Raphael’s smooth, deep voice. Back when I had my friends with me and we could laugh about him and his over-the-top showmanship. Back when it felt like we were on the precipice of defeating the Absolute for good. The Shadow Cursed Lands were horrible, but we were never alone from each other.
Gods, I wish I could call on their council now. Wyll, Karlach, and La’zel would likely tell me that making any more deals with devils could only lead down a worse path. Shadowheart and Gale would possibly think they could outsmart some detail of the contract. Astarion… I don’t know. I know how he longed to be free from any master, but freedom comes with a price.
And who among them could judge me anyway for considering taking another deal? We’ve all sold our souls or dignity to one force or another for the sake of love, safety, or blind devotion.
Before I can continue spiraling too much longer, a terse “ahem” comes from behind me.
“The master wishes to see you on the southern balcony, vermin.” Says the Archivist hatefully, hands dutifully folded behind his back. Thank Gods, a distraction. Hopefully I can just be permitted to leave this damned party and hope to survive another night. Without a further word, the Archivist walks briskly away, and I know I am meant to follow him. I really don’t like this man.
“Enjoying the party?” I ask cheerily as I quicken my pace to match his. I don’t have much power down here, but annoying devils who are not allowed to hurt me sure is fun, “Also, do you have a proper name, or does everyone call you ‘The Archivist’? It’s so… formal. Have you considered Archi?”
The Archivist’s fists clench behind his back, and a small rush of satisfaction courses through me as I sense I’m getting to him. As we ascend a staircase on the other side of the room and I keep coming up with possible nicknames, I wonder if he strikes me first, do I get to retaliate? He looks like he’s ready to risk a fate of becoming a lemure just to get one good punch in.
The Archivist gestures for me to go onto the balcony through a pair of stained-glass windowed doors, where Raphael is backlit by the fiery landscape of the hells, arms resting on the railing, looking over his domain. Next to him there is a table with two goblets of wine, no doubt to toast to his own success.
“Bye, Mr. Books!” I wave to the Archivist enthusiastically, and he responds with an odd, unsettling smirk before he bows and leaves me to join Raphael on the balcony, closing the door behind him.
“I think you need a new archivist. This one creeps me out. Though that may very well be the point.” I step onto the balcony. The air is dry and hot, but the breeze is refreshing in an odd way.
Raphael turns and I notice it isn’t him at all. There are some similar features in the jaw and the deep-set eyes, but it is distinctly not Raphael. He is broader, not quite as lean as Raphael. He is handsome- dangerously so with long black hair and a beard decorated with braids and golden beads. Tattoos of fire climb up his neck, stopping just short of his cheekbones.
“… Haarlep?” I ask hopefully. But I know it isn’t.
“Were you expecting Haarlep?” he says with an amused rumbling voice, walking in a slow circle around me like a vulture until his body blocks mine from the exit.
“No, I was expecting Raphael.” I say, awkwardly, “I’m… erm.. supposed to meet him. I think I’ll go look for him now, actually…” I try to move past the cambion, this Archdevil, and hope this was all a big misunderstanding. The cambion‘s wings expand, making slipping by impossible. Shit.
“Raphael can wait. I had been hoping to make your acquaintance all evening. My name is Mephistopheles. It is a pleasure to meet the famous Tav of Baulder’s Gate.”
Mephistopheles, ruler of the hells, bows deeply to me in a way that reminds me of meeting Raphael for the very first time in the Emerald Grove.
My stomach drops as my fear is confirmed. Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t want to meet Mephistopheles any more than Raphael wanted me to and now we stand alone on a balcony overlooking a lake of fire and lava. The only exit is behind him or over the railing and I am at a loss for words.
“Oh, come now. Do not look like such a frightened lamb; I have no intention of causing you harm. Sit, relax, have some wine.” Mephistopheles gestures to the table with a pair of chairs and two full goblets. “I should like to know more of the fated saviors of Faerun. There are six others of you, are there not? La’zel of Cheche K’liir, Shadowheart the ex-Sharren, Gale of Waterdeep, Astarion Ancunin, Wyll Ravenguard, and Karlach Cliffgate. A fine group of young adventurers, I am sure.”
“I really should be—”
“Sit.” Mephistopheles’s tone brooks no argument. He does not need to use magic to make me command; I sit because I cannot imagine the consequences of disobeying him. He knows my friends, he knows their names, and I don’t want to know what else he knows about us. About them.
“Raphael has you well-trained, it seems.” He says with a huff of laughter, “Please, though, little warrior, relax. Have some wine. You have faced far more ill-intended creatures than I. In fact, I believe that we could have something of a fruitful friendship.”
“Do you now?” I ask incredulously. I eye the wine and think better of drinking it, be it tampered with or not.
“I do. I very much do.” Mephistopheles says. His words are as slow and intentional as Raphael’s as he paces the balcony, dominating the space. ”Your current position is unfortunate. Your companions are no closer to their task with the hammer than they were when they began. Have you considered what will become of you if they fail? Have you considered what would happen to your entire realm if the Absolute takes over?”
I swallow hard and do not answer, looking down at my goblet of wine. I have been avoiding imagining this particular scenario with great effort. I’m hardly ready to discuss it now. Mephistopheles stops his pacing and faces me now.
“Look at me when I speak to you." His command is calm, but there is a threatening undertone. "Avoidance is a coward's game, and you, my dear, are no coward. You have slain Ketherik Thorm. You have slain Cazador Szarr. You have gone up against gods and returned victorious. You are no pretty little trinket caught in the web of a half-cooked contract by some semi-cambion: you are a force to be reckoned with unto yourself.”
“Erm. Thanks?” I say. I doubt he wants to hear about how ‘my’ accomplishments were all a group effort. Mephistopheles walks over to me slowly and sits opposite me at the table. He is still positioned between me and the exit.
“I do not wish for the Absolute cult to deteriorate Faerun down to the bones, to see your world become extinct. I do not wish to see your growing fire squashed by the hands of greedy devils who cannot see your full potential. What I wish is to set you free from this place. I could grant you powers and respect beyond your imagination. You would be able to defeat the Absolute handily and with confidence. You could return to your friends on the surface and live the life you have always wanted.”
“In exchange for…?” I ask. What Mephistopheles is saying is intriguing, of course, but I am not so foolish as to think this would be offered freely. He smiles slowly and pushes one of the goblets closer towards me before taking a sip from his own.
“Nothing so dramatic as your soul. Nothing you need to be responsible for. What I desire from you is a temporary service. You would be able to continue to live your life as normal with some minor adjustments, and our business would conclude in under a year. You would never hear from me again, nor Raphael, nor any devil. You would be forever free from any infernal obligations, and no one would dare touch you, god or monster.”
“Speak plainly. What is it you want?” I ask, ignoring the glass of wine. My heart is pounding with increasing ferocity.
“It has been some time since I have bred. Raphael is my only living spawn, and though his whore-human mother had a great spark within her, it does not compare to what I see in you.”
If I were drinking the wine, I am confident I would spit it out.
“You don’t mean—?"
“Let me breed you. Be my vessel. Let my seed fatten your belly with a new life. Think of it; who would dare threaten the mother of Mephestopheles’ newest progeny?”
“No. Absolutely not, you’re not going to breed me.” I say, standing and taking a few steps back from the table. Mephistopheles stands as well, continuing to keep me trapped on the balcony. Where in the hells is Raphael? Doesn’t he know by now I need constant supervision?
“Consider your alternatives.” Mephistopheles says patiently, taking a step toward me, “At best, your team returns with the hammer, and you go with them back to slaying enemies aplenty. But do you think leaving the hells will make you any less valuable to Raphael? To Zariel? To any devil who could claim ownership of a surface-hero? Even if you save your world, you would never be truly safe from the claws reaching up for you from below... And of course, what if your friends fail? You are then indebted to Raphael for eternity. Perhaps he will continue to play nicely with you for a few hundred more years before a new shiny toy comes along and you are tossed aside, broken and forgotten. Perhaps he will sell you to another for advantage in the Blood War. Or perhaps you will break one of his arbitrary little rules and force you to slaughter your friends yourself as punishment. I assure you, he has done worse.”
My blood pounds in my ears. I don’t want to talk about this. There must be other options.
“Allow me to lay with you. It will only take one time.” Mephistopheles continues moving toward me still, “You may even find the experience pleasurable. I would not ask you to raise the child; you need not even see it. You could hand me the bundle and forget it ever happened. You may have children with others later in life if you please, for I am not a jealous being. You could take all the power in Faerun you hunger for, or live a simple, humble life knowing that you and your loved ones would never know a moment’s discomfort. After all, what is a handful of months in the face of a lifetime of security?”
“I, erm...” I stumble as I consider if the rocks below the balcony are a certain death or not. My back is now pressed against the railing, completely trapped and surrounded in a cage made of this archdevils wings
“Hello, Mephistopheles.” Comes another voice from behind one of the wings. Mephistopheles steps to the side to look at his son. Raphael approaches with a chilling calmness in his full cambion form. “I should have known it was you keeping my co-host from the festivities. Go inside, Tav. Now.”
“No.” I say, and remain firmly planted where I am. I am terrified but I will not be negotiated over like land in a war. I will have a say. Raphale’s eyes flash with anger, but he does not force me to walk inside.
Seeing them together, it is easy to see what features of Raphael were inherited by Mephistopheles, especially in a scowl. I wonder suddenly what Raphael’s mother looked like. His ‘whore-human’ mother, as she was so crudely and dismissively referred to by Mephistopheles. Did she have tanned skin and soft brown hair like him? A strong nose with warm eyes and a charming smile? I wonder if Mephistopheles even remembers her name or what deal was struck for her to carry Raphael. What was she promised?
“A wise choice, young warrior. My prized vessel.” Mephistopheles says, coming to stand next to me, giving the illusion of a team, a partnership already in motion. He addresses Raphael, “You should appreciate a deal being struck as well as any, boy. It is a shame to be on the side that is shorted the winnings, though, isn’t it?”
“And is a deal being struck, mouse?” Raphael asks me directly, accusation in his eyes.
“Of course it is!” Mephistopheles answers for me, “You cannot think your warrior prisoner would be imbecilic enough to waste away with the likes of you, Raphael. She is bound for greatness, and only I can provide the key to unlock her future. Her destiny!”
“I think my charge can answer such a question herself, father. There is a contract already in place, besides.” Raphael growls. I see now that there are several faces watching this entire exchange through the window, whispering amongst themselves. Cirrius, Arling, and Estris are among them.
“Ha!” Mephistopheles scoffs, “You and your flimsy contracts are not worth the parchment they are written on. She will come with me, and a new deal will be struck. A deal that can save her loved ones. A deal that will change the course of the tides through all of the material plane! Come, girl.” I am beckoned with a single claw towards Mephistopheles, who is beginning to spout flames as if to teleport. His large hand is opened for me to take.
“No.” I say, finally getting a literal single word in edgewise. These devils do love the sounds of their own voices. I step away from Mephistopheles, creating an equidistant space between the two devils and me.
“…I beg your pardon?” Mephistopheles growls, turning on me, flames dying down. The wrath in his voice is clear, and the faces pressed up against the window turn to each other, chattering excitedly.
“I’m not going with you.” I say simply, “I’m staying here until my contract is up.”
“Think carefully now, girl. You could be great. You could be safe. You could be powerful!” Mephistopheles says. It’s clear he is no more used to ‘no’ than his son.
“What was her name?” I ask, forcing eye contact with the horrifying devil, “Raphael’s mother-- What became of her? What happened to the last mortal you ‘bred’?”
A silence falls and Mephistopheles searches for a persuading answer. Perhaps he does not remember.
“She died birthing me,” Raphael says, breaking the silence after a moment. “She was raped, lived a comfortable nine months, then bled to death as soon as I was born. No one came to help her. Her name is unknown.”
“But you, warrior Tav, are no common human whore.” Mephistopheles says quickly, using the exact wrong way to persuade me, “You are greater! Wiser! Stronger! You will live a life beyond your wildest dreams.”
“I am certainly no better than a ‘common human whore’.” I say angrily. Angry for myself, angry for Raphael’s mother, and angry for any person who has been forced to make impossible choices, “I am no more valuable to you than the womb inside me and you won’t have it.” Mephistopheles approaches me now, looking like a predator preparing for the kill. I instinctively reach for a weapon I do not have, patting my hips. I raise my fists instead with bent knees, bouncing on the balls of my feet, ready to fight.
“I hardly need your permission, you miserable little—”
“Go.” Raphael says, suddenly standing between Mephistopheles and me, a hand on Mephistopheles’s chest, stopping any further advancement. I didn’t even see him move. “Go now. Excuse yourself, or you will be excused by force. This little warrior of mine can pack quite a punch, and while that would make for a fascinating final act to the night, I would rather we maintain civility for the time being. Don’t you?”
Mephistopheles pushes Raphael’s hand off of him and scowls, weighing his options. The onlookers inside of the House of Hope likely cannot hear what is being said, and this is Mephistopheles’ best chance at saving face. Even if he attacked and killed me right now, he would look pathetic, being goaded into a fight with an unarmed mortal.
With a threatening look that promises this is far from over, Mephistopheles disappears into thin, firey air without another word. Raphale turns to face me, expression unreadable.
“Your dad is a real prick.” I say after a long moment, breathing heavily from the excitement.
“He is at that. Tell me, where were you really planning to fight the Archdevil Mephistopheles, ruler of Cania, Lord of No Mercy and Hellfire, unarmed, wearing a ballgown with your teeny-tiny bare fists?”
“You won’t let me have a sword, so what do you expect me to do? He was being a prick.”
A look of tense look crosses Raphael’s face, as if he isn’t in the mood to laugh but is tempted to. Haarlep had said how little Raphael cares for his plans being disrupted and I cannot imagine that having his father proposition to breed me was on the itinerary.
“You’ve caused quite a stir, as usual.” Raphael says, “I was prepared to let you retire for the evening, but now I think you owe me and our guests one last dance. A public display of your chosen alliances to squash the fetid rumors that are undoubtedly spreading wild as fire through a dry brush.”
“Then I can retire for the evening?”
“Then you can retire for the evening.” He affirms with a nod. Raphael holds his arm out for me to take, and I do so.
We re-enter the House of Hope, the onlookers by the window already gone, no doubt reporting what they saw or thought they saw. Raphael and I walk together easily now, a thin string of trust between us. I could have left with Mephistopheles, or even told him I’d consider his deal. I was promised freedom from the most powerful demon in the hells and chose the comfort of the devil I know instead.
Once again, Raphael and I enter the main chamber of the ballroom, standing on the balcony where we made our first entrance. Once again, all eyes are on us, and the room quiets as we stand, looking regal and in control, for all to see. I can pick out whispers from below, the rumors already spreading.
”You said Mephistopheles killed her!”
”No, she’s going to carry Raphael’s spawn--
She doesn’t look pregnant to me...
Raphael holds a moment to ensure everyone sees that I am indeed with him and slowly leads me to the dance floor, descending the grand staircase.
Why would anyone choose Raphael over Mephistopheles?
That’s not really the girl- that’s incubus in her form!
I heard Mephistopheles never even came tonight…
We cut through the room and rumors, eyes straight ahead, neither of us bothered by the crowd’s scrutinous attention. Raphael puts one arm around my waist, the other picking up my hand, and nods to the musicians who somehow know exactly what that means as a brisk string tango begins to play.
If our first dance was poised and careful, this could not be more different. There are no gentle, cautious tests to see if I will respond; Raphael knows that I will. He trusts me to do as he wants right now, and I trust him to lead me well through the music.
The subtlest of pressures on my back and waist from his leading hand indicate where I should go and how I should move, and for any steps I do not know or fumble, Raphael catches me effortlessly, adjusting his own moves to make it look intentional. The smug look on his face as we move together does not feel so much like it is at me but with me. I am lowered into one final low dip my entire weight resting easily on Raphael’s arm. Cutting through the sound of applause from the guests, Raphael’s voice purrs in my ear:
“Go to the boudoir. Wait for me there. We have some business to attend to.”
Well, since I finished my master's degree, I need to type out a whole bunch of something, so I present my short series on AO3 "Contemptuous Creatres", a slow-burn BG3 fic highlighting Raphael, Haarlep, and Tav. Excpect some kink, a bit of CNC, and whatever else I feel like.
...
“If you have any last words, make them quick. It will only take a minute to finish you.” Raphael’s rage is clearly only barely contained. Between stealing several precious items, breaking into his home, and having sex with his own personal incubus, I supposed the cambion had every reason to be angry with us…
I steady myself with a deep breath, roll my shoulders back, and prepare to fight an actual devil.
“Ha! That’s twice as long as Haarlep said it takes you.” I snap quickly before I can think better of it. Immediately, a chorus of my companions' voices comes from behind me:
“Could you not think of a more idiotic thing to say?” scolds Shadowheart
“Tav! Surely you cannot be so reckless!” says Gale
“Very funny, darling. Almost worth it, even.” Astarion says approvingly.
“You contemptuous creature—” Raphael’s voice booms through the room as his form shifts from human to that of his devil one.
He is suddenly taller and broader, with twisted horns atop his head, eyes glowing, and flames bursting from his body. He is undoubtedly terrifying, but even still, an unbidden memory of Astarion and me gossiping about how much more attractive Raphael is in his cambion form pops into my mind. I shake the thought from my head as we prepare ourselves for a battle we are not likely to survive…
“Master, surely this isn’t necessary…” says Haarlep who seems to simply materialize directly behind Raphael. Haarlep places their hands tenderly on Raphael’s hips and begins to nuzzle into Raphael’s neck. In an instant, Raphael twists his body, knocking his elbow into Harleep’s face before quickly catching him by the throat. Raphael’s grip forces Haarlep to bend their knees and look up at the devil.
“As for you… I’ll deal with your punishment later.” Raphael sneers down at Haarlep, who appears entirely unaffected by the violence.
“Promise?” Haarlep purrs, giving a crooked smile. Haarlep's eyelids flutter as if in ecstasy before Raphael roughly shoves them away by the neck. “Oh, do not be cross with me.” Haarlep pouts at being let go and regains their balance quickly, “It was my duty to keep your little mouse occupied until you returned home. I did exactly what you would have asked of me.”
“I assure you, I would not have asked for any of what you’ve done. Get out of my sight.” Raphael says, seething.
“Raphael… Master…” Haarlep says sweetly as he saunters back to Raphael, gently caressing his cheek. His tone is that of one spouse trying to reason with another about whose turn it is to wash dishes rather than de-escalate a lethal battle, “The little mouse is necessary, no?”
“Haarlep…” Raphael says in warning, face snapping back to meet that of his… companion? Lover? Employee…? The two exchange a short series of looks, conversing silently in the way that two people who know each other intimately are able to do. The exchange is just long enough that I begin to wonder if we could simply make a run for the portal back to Baldur’s Gate…
“Don’t even think about it, mouse.” Raphael says as if reading my mind, “There is no corner of this nor any realm that will keep me from hunting you down. No, if you desire to live, you and the rest of your vermin will stay quite put until a decision has been made.” Haarlep whispers something into Raphael’s ear that makes the cambion smirk. Raphael adjusts his posture and addresses our group.
“You have broken into my House of Hope. You have stolen from me. You have ignored my perfectly reasonable and patient offers of negotiation. And yet…” Raphael walks in a circle around our group lazily, holding each of our stares. From the shadows, Yurgir and Korilla appear as well, making it clear: we are surrounded. “…our history, albeit brief, is a prosperous one. We have helped each other and made good on our promises, have we not? For any other being to have slithered through the cracks and wind up in your position… well, they would already have become a distant memory to the world by now. But your little band of merry adventurers aren’t most beings, are you? So the question remains…. What must be done with you?” Raphael lightly lifts Gale’s face, almost affectionately with one clawed talon before retracting his hand before Gale can pull away.
“Is this yet another rhetorical question, devil?” Astarion says, “Because the soliloquies are becoming rather tiresome.” Raphael’s gaze snaps to Astarion now, his slow grin spreading over his face.
“Are they, now?” Raphael says, amused with his own little joke of a question, “I’d think you’d be grateful, for my soliloquies are, in fact, means to an end that can keep your pretty little hide all in one piece. But do answer me this: if you were in my position, what would be a fitting punishment for a band of thieves such as yourselves?”
Our group remains silent for a long moment because the truth is that, of course, we would murder a thief who trespassed into our camp, stole our valuables, and lay with our hypothetical incubus.
“Our use for the hammer is a brief one. It can be returned.” I say, hoping to talk our way out of this mess. Raphael’s glowing eyes move slowly to meet mine. He walks to stand directly in front of me, just on the very edge of my personal space.
“Indeed, it can be.” Raphael says and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. His eyes hold me a moment or two longer before walking past me, returning to the side of Haarlep, who is watching the scene as if it were a play before him. “Very well. I will let you borrow the hammer to complete your task. After all, just as you stated, your use of it will be brief.”
“What’s the angle?” Shadowheart demands. “Nothing comes freely in the hells.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” Raphael muses and taps his chin with a finger as if in thought. “The Orphic hammer is quite valuable to me. To lend it to a group of thieving adventurers such as yourselves is quite the gamble, and I prefer to place my bets with confidence. If you expect me to trust you with such a possession, it seems only fair that we engage in a trade of sorts…”
“What sort of trade are you proposing?” Gale asks. I immediately begin thinking of our most valuable possessions. We have acquired weapons, relics, and armor that could equal or even surpass that of the hammer. Perhaps he will want all of them, but it’s no matter. We can easily part with any or even all of it, if it means we can get the hammer.
“You may borrow my hammer, and in return, I will borrow your precious little leader.” Raphael says simply. I look around briefly before I realize he means me.
Check it out on my Ao3! :) Tav is finally getting her due!
I land on the portal, naked and on my hands and knees, feeling breathless. I want to curl into a ball and cry for all of the joy and sadness I feel for myself, but there is no time. I indulge myself one big breath and before I can even exhale…
“Did you enjoy your time on the surface, my dear?” A voice comes from behind me, sitting on the bed next to a candle. Raphael. It feels as if my insides freeze and my stomach churns. This is it. He’s going to kill me.
“Shit. I—erm—”
“Oh, do not worry, my pet.” Raphael’s face melts into Haarlep’s, who looks very amused, “I had waited so long for your return, I wished to give you a bit of a scare to welcome you back to the House of Hope properly.”
“That’s not funny!” I say and throw the fist-sized diamond from the portal at Haarlep’s head, who catches it easily and is now tossing it up and down in the air like a toy ball.
“I disagree,” Haarlep says, standing up and offering me their hand. They are wearing nothing but a silk robe and similar one lays on the bed, presumably for me, “But time is running out and we must prepare you quickly in the Master’s chambers. Before we leave this room, though, do tell me. Did you enjoy it? Seeing your companions? You reek of melancholy and sex, and I cannot quite tell.”
“I think it was the best night I may have ever had in my life.” I say, eyes brimming with tears again, “Haarlep, thank you for getting me there. Even if this is some bizarre power play or part of a larger plot to torture me, it was well worth it.”
“Who was it you bedded? The vampire?” Haarlep asks, head tilted curiously as if the sex was the only reason it was such a significant trip.
“Well, yes, but it was more than that—”
“We will talk more of this, little pet. I do want to hear of it. For now, though, you are expected in Raphael’s boudoir. He will be returning at any moment. It was clever of you to leave your surface clothes, though we must get you in a bath soon, lest he smell the remnants of Baulder’s Gate on your skin and hair. Put on the robe, dear one.”
I do as Haarlep says, and we leave the room. Haarlep appears to be able to access the exit from the inside of the room, and I wonder why they didn’t do so earlier when Raphael sent them there. Pure obedience, perhaps. Maybe it is part of their elaborate foreplay.
It seems that the finishing touches for the party are being finished around the House of Hope. Food is being plated, furniture is being adjusted, and musicians are tuning instruments in the distance.
We rush back- I am nearly running at full speed to keep up with Haarlep’s long legs at a brisk walk as they drag me by the wrist. No one seems to care or seems surprised by the sight of Haarlep and me, mostly naked and running hand in hand. We pass through the threshold, and Haarlep takes the robe from me, gesturing further into the room.
Next to the large bathing pool, there is a smaller clawfoot tub of gold.
“Get in, pet. The bathing pool is for luxuriating. The tub is for efficiency. Go.” Haarlep’s tone is as close to anxious as I’ve ever heard it and I obey without hesitation.
There is the slightest, slightest chance we’ve pulled this whole thing off.
I am no sooner sat in the tub, trying to adjust to the water, before Haarlep puts their hand on my head and submerges me completely.
I inhale a significant amount of water and resurface sputtering and choking, hair plastered to my face. A glob of something is dropped onto my head.
“What the hells are you--?” I try to ask before I am pushed down again, fingers scrubbing at my scalp roughly. I fight to get back to the air above my head worried Haarlep will drown me.
“Haarlep! Sto—” Another glob of something- I think shampoo- and I am back under the water being treated like a dog who rolled in something particularly nasty.
A third time, I am back above the surface of the water and am allowed to remain so. I cough the water out of my lungs and try to wipe the soap from my burning eyes.
“The smell is mostly gone now, I think.” Haarlep says, leaning in to smell my head, “Perhaps once more…”
“I’ll do it myself!” I insist quickly before I am nearly drowned again.
“Oh, of course, pet.” Haarlep says as if the thought simply didn’t occur to them that I am capable of bathing myself. They deposit some soap into my hand, and I do another round of washing while they watch.
“There is still the matter of the smell of your sex, my dear.” Haarlep says, “You smell satisfied, but not like me. We must resolve this.”
“I smell satisfied?” I ask, rinsing my hair.
“Yes, there are many senses that you mortals do not have. Raphael will be suspicious. Unless…” Haarlep turns my head to face them and kisses me. After the initial surprise, it is an exceptional feeling; Haarlep’s lips are soft and part mine gently, allowing their tongue into my mouth. Haarlep does not waste time. Their hand moves from my face, down into the water between my legs, rubbing light circles around my mound. I feel their fingers parting the lips between my leg and I gasp, unsure if I should stop it or not. It feels so odd, I was just with Astarion and part of my heart pangs that I’m already washing the scent of him from me.
“You have to trust me now. He is coming.” Haarlep whispers, “Lose yourself in me, pet.”
A large finger enters me, and I gasp. Haarlep is behind me, on some seat outside of the tub, groping and feeling me in the water. Haarlep’s finger moves slowly, palm applying pressure to my clitoris. My hips begin to roll with the rhythm of Haarlep’s touch as they kiss the side of my neck and pinch my nipple with their other hand. My eyes flutter closed as I let myself simply enjoy the sensations, pushing away confusion for a little while.
A different voice suddenly appears.
“What a pleasant sight to return to.” Comes Raphael’s familiar deep drawl. My eyes snap open, and I sit up straight with a splash. Raphael stands in his human form, hands resting on the other end of the tub, taking in the scene with a satisfied smirk.
“Keep going, Haarlep. I do not want our star’s pent-up energy spoiling tonight’s scene. We want her nice and compliant, don’t we?” Raphael does not address me, as if I were not a hearing creature. Haarlep responds by pulling me back to a more relaxed position and playing with both of my breasts now, still kissing and nipping at my neck and ears. It feels clinical, almost, as if getting me to orgasm is like any other task to be completed like scrubbing the floor.
“I don’t really— mmmf” I say weakly before Haarlep begins to run their knuckles over my nipples, creating a kind of vibrating effect. It feels incredible, and I can’t help but be a little further aroused by being watched by Raphael.
“Charm her if you must.” Raphael says, addressing Haarlep, “But we do not have much time and this must get done.”
“What do you say, little pet?” Haarlep purrs into my ear, “Do I need to charm you? Or do you think you can give yourself to me freely? You are mine, aren’t you?” They ask, and I feel myself nodding. Not driven by magic, but by my own free will, offered to me by Haarlep in a subtle act of mercy. “You are a good girl for me.” I nod again. A large hand moves again down my body and holds me between my legs, parting my thighs open.
“You can come for me. For us.” Haarlep says, “Do so when I count down to ‘one’, and you will be rewarded so, so sweetly.” I nod again, feeling my heart rate quicken as Haarlep rubs and scratches at my inner thighs, but a little incredulous that I can simply orgasm on demand…
“Ten…” Haarlep breathes into my ear, biting at the lobe. The hand that was playing with my breasts is now around my neck, lightly caressing the skin. Their other hand rubs up and down the length of my sex.
“Nine…” A finger slips into my entrance suddenly but easily, exploring the bounds of my walls.
“Eight…” A come-hither motion from inside me makes me gasp loudly. I see Raphael standing opposite me, watching greedily. His arms uncross as we make eye contact, and he leans over the tub, closer. His stare so intense. He almost looks jealous, but it is difficult to say whose position he envies between Haarlep or myself.
“Seven…” A second finger enters me now, and a deep moan of pleasure comes from me that makes Raphael smile.
“She is rather lovely like this, is she not?” Raphel says, reaching out and gripping my left nipple tightly, “Writhing around. Skin flushed. So, terribly responsive.”
“Oh yes, master. A gentle hand is the way to this one’s compliance, I think. Six…” Haarlep’s rhythm quickens a bit. Raphael releases my left nipple and grabs the right, rolling it between his fingers.
“Perhaps on occasion.” Raphael muses, “Though she danced so beautifully, bent over my lap when I delivered a firmer touch.” He pinches my nipple hard before letting go and slapping my breast upwards, so it bounces, lightly splashing the water. I whimper and wonder if I will be able to wait the rest of the countdown to come. The dual attention is escalating my arousal greatly and unexpectedly.
“Five… Do not disobey me, little one.” Haarlep says while quickening their circular motion inside me, “Do not finish before you are told. I have some most delicious rewards for you if you comply for me…”
“I don’t think she will make it.” Raphael says, and his and Haarlep’s teasing voices together are an aphrodisiac all on their own. “I do not think she has the strength, the discipline. She wants this too badly. Don’t you, you greedy girl?” Another slap to my other breast, and my eyes roll back, wanting more.
“She will listen for me, Master.” Haarlep says confidently, two fingers circling as steady as a machine. “She wants her reward. She is disciplined enough, you shall see. Four…”
“Ahh, but if she did not yearn for punishment, why would she be such a consistent little brat? At every turn, she aims to seek my attention in the naughtiest of ways, and this is no different.” Raphael says, grabs my face, turning me to him while Haarlep nibbles on my shoulder. “You crave my punishment, little mouse. I can smell it, I can taste it. And that is why you are going to come before Haarlep allows. Because you listen to me.”
“Three…” Haarlep says, “Almost there, pet, you can do it. You can wait.”
“Do it now.” Raphael demands, “Come onto Haarlep’s fingers right now and accept your punishment with me. Do it.”
My orgasm begins the same time Haarlep counts down to ‘two’. Haarlep cups my pussy hard with their hand as I hump it helplessly, chasing the feeling to completion. My body spasms with raw pleasure as wave after wave crashes over me until I’m left shaking, after shocks contorting my body in little spasms.
“Pathetic.” Raphael says with a smile as I return to myself panting heavily, “Pathetic and perfect.”
“Well done,” Haarlep whispers to me with a final small kiss on the shoulder. They stand and walk over to Raphael as I try to keep my legs from shaking violently. When I finally stand from the tub to face Raphael and Haarlep, I am met with the sight of Haarlep licking the fingers they had inside of me, tossing me a wink.
Gods fucking damn this place, it is confusing.
“I’m afraid we do not have time for a cuddle between the two of you.” Raphael says, “Nor do we have time for your punishment, mouse. We three must get dressed for the night.”
Haarlep hands me a towel, and I dry off, wrapping the towel around my body. Haarlep and Raphael rummage through wardrobes, collecting clothes and a selection of accessories. While Raphael makes the final selections to lay on the bed next to the wardrobe, Haarlep comes over to me and begins to arrange my hair, sitting me on a bench while they stand behind me. Raphael is dressing behind me, out of sight.
“It was wise to come on Raphael’s command, for it soothes his ego. Clever girl.” Haarlep whispers in my ear, then more loudly says, “About your hair…
Before I can whisper back that it was not part of some plan to orgasm on Raphael’s command, Haarlep snaps their fingers, and there is a brief sensation of my head being on fire, before it falls, perfectly dry. Haarlep has gathered pins and combs and starts to twist sections of hair, securing them in place. I think of Shadowheart’s comment about them treating me like a doll, and it has never felt truer.
After a minute or two, Haarlep leaves to put on the clothes laid out for them, and Raphael makes the final adjustments to my hair. I only know it is Raphael because of his distinct scent of cherry and smoke, whereas Haarlep smells more floral and earthy. I sit facing the pool, reckoning with the strangeness of this entire preparation process. Though it does seem that Raphael is not so much as suspicious that I’ve sneaked to the surface and I am bolstered by my secret success. Perhaps it could even happen again…?
“Stand and turn to me.” Raphael says. I do so, and he prepares to examine my hair from the front, while I take in the sight of this devil.
He is now in his cambion form and wearing a suit I have not yet seen him wear. It is black as night with golden trim along the hem and seams. Golden and red embroidery interlaced with small diamond details the vest that is fastened with golden buttons around a ruby inlay. A golden cuff sits on one shoulder, ornamenting him further. The cuff on the other shoulder is obscured by a beautiful cape with red lining that falls just above the floor. Raphael’s horns are adorned as well with golden chains and cuffs. He is imposing, terrifying, and undeniably beautiful.
“Magnificent, aren’t I?” Raphael says, noticing the way I am looking at him. He takes a step back to let me admire the ensemble. He does, in fact, look magnificent. I realize my jaw is open and I close it.
“It’s alright,” I say, trying to sound unimpressed. Raphael laughs and makes another adjustment to my hair from the front, so several strands fall loosely by my face.
“It is not up for debate, dear Raphael, you are exquisite,” Haarlep says, sorting through accessories for their own horns. Haarlep is wearing a similar extravagant outfit, but with emerald detailing where Raphael has ruby.
“I am indeed. As for you, our disobedient little mouse… well, we’re almost there.” Raphael goes to a wardrobe and pulls out a selection of gowns, holding them up next to me as if envisioning what they would look like with each of them on. I stand with my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for whatever inevitable criticism or lecture is coming, “But we must discuss the expectations of the night first. I have allowed more than enough leniency regarding our contract during your stay with us so far—”
“No, you haven’t!” I protest. Raphael gives me a hard look, and just as he forced my posture straight with some kind of infernal magic earlier, he snaps his fingers and does so now. I stand tall, shoulders back, chin high, and arms to my side. I cannot budge from the position and groan at the discomfort of not moving independently.
“No more interruptions, or I will bind your tongue next.” Raphael says. Haarlep seems unconcerned, still sorting through wrist cuffs and jewels. I scowl, but do not interrupt. “Tonight, you are an extension of the House of Hope as well as my fine self. You will conduct yourself with elegance and grace. If I tell you to come to me, you will do so without question. If I tell you to dance, you will dance. If I tell you to be quiet, you will be silent as a … well, as a mouse.” Raphael says with a smile as if that were funny, “Save your tired plays for power for when we are not accompanied by my esteemed guests, or it will not just be you who pays the price.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, and the grip on my posture loosens. Raphael selects a gown and beckons me to approach. I do so, and Raphael indicates for me to remove the towel wrapped around my body. I hesitate for a moment, and he lifts his hand as if to snap his fingers, letting me know he can easily make me do whatever he wants. I drop the towel before he snaps and stand before him, completely naked.
“You’re finally learning, it seems… About time.” Raphael says pleased with my coerced compliance. He hands me undergarments, and I put them on as he continues, “It is clear to me that the value you place on your life and safety alone is relatively insignificant. This would prove a complication for me if not for the adorable admiration you have for your little friends. You may remember your teifling Karlach telling tales of her mistress, Zariel. Well, as it happens, none other than she will be among the attendees tonight, and I am confident that Zariel would love to have her finest soldier join her ranks again. If not, then perhaps Mizora would like to strike a deal with Wyll to find his father at the price of his very soul… Your cleric has a great deal of Sharran enemies who would relish the chance to skin that traitor to their cause. Are you beginning to see where this is headed, little mouse?”
“You can’t hurt them.” I say, as my blood is starting to boil, hands clenching into fists.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” Raphael says innocently, holding his hands up, “But people talk, little one. Ideas can be planted like seeds in the fertile soil, and my garden is vast. What takes root can be tended to, given a life of its own, or squashed at its nascency. If you want to help prune the vines of gossip that may grow to tangle your loved ones in a thorny web, your task is simple. Play the gracious guest of honor and do exactly as I say.” Raphael hands me a gown that appears to be black as a void and made of velvet, until light hits it just so to reveal a crimson red hue, “What say you, my dear? Is the safety of your friends worth sacrificing your precious pride for a single evening?”
I take the gown and slip it on without a word. Raphael smiles, knowing that my friends are my weakness. Especially now, having just renewed my adoration for them all during my secret trip to the surface, I would do anything to keep them safe. Including playing this awful game.
The dress fits perfectly, though it feels alien on my body. I do not often wear formal clothing; I never have, and it feels foreign to have extra weight pulling me down by the skirts or not having pants dividing the skin between my legs. The gown demands my posture and restricts my movement somewhat, but the large slit that hits mid-thigh does allow me to stretch my legs.
“She is perfection,” Haarlep says affectionately of me, looking up as they adjust a cuff around their horns.
“Not quite.” Raphael says and guides me to a chair by the desk to sit. Among the accessories, some make-up is assembled as well.
“I don’t really wear make-up...” I say, unsure of even how to put it on, though it becomes clear I’m not expected to put it on myself.
“Stay still, dear. If you’re going to lose an eye tonight, I would rather you make your grand entrance first at least.” Raphael says as he smudges a small amount of golden powder over the lid of each of my eyes, patting it in a practiced way. The touch to my eyes is light and careful although he holds my jaw tightly, not allowing me to pull away. Raphael passes a stick of kohl between my upper and lower eyelids, admires his handwork for a moment, licks his thumb, and adjusts any mess at the corners of my eyes.
Somehow this feels so much more intimate than what happened in the tub. It is tender and thoughtful, rather than aggressive and clinical. Raphael’s face is only inches from mine and he is inspecting every feature of my face in a way that makes me feel more naked and exposed than when I truly was. Raphael turns my face this way and that, applying a rouge to my cheeks with the pads of his fingers. Our eyes connect occasionally and briefly and each time I am given a small, satisfied smirk. Despite my resentment, despite my anger, something about him takes my breath away. What’s worse, is he knows it.
“Now, if you’d wipe that horrendous scowl from your face, you might be considered quite a pretty little thing.” Raphael comments.
“Piss off.” I say, and face is suddenly grabbed far more tightly, causing an unwanted whimper.
“Language, my dear. I shall not remind you kindly again.”
“Oh leave her, Raph, you’ll smudge her make up,” Haarlep says, “The two of you can coquet later, but we must mind our guests. We both have business to attend to, do not forget.”
Haarlep steps in now, and Raphael steps away with a last threating glare to go admire himself in the mirror. Prick.
“What sort of business do you have?” I ask Haarlep, who is adding a bit more make-up, but I get the sense they are primarily keeping Raphael and I apart. I had somewhat assumed Haarlep lived a life of pure leisure, and hope the question does not come off as rude.
“Oh, my pet. I have all manner of responsibilities, though primarily facilitating deals on Raphael’s behalf. Territory negotiations are simpler when the other party is eating from the palm of your hand that has been transformed to meet their most abominable desires.”
“Enough, Haarlep. The mouse does not need to know the business of foxes.” Raphael says.
Haarlep drops the matter and picks up a tube of lipstick. They squish my cheeks together, plant a small, playful kiss on them, and begin to apply the color.
“This is your armor, dear one. You are expected to be subservient, yes, but you need not cower in the face of our guests.” Haarlep says, “Stand tall, and be proud. Play the role of the guest of honor to its full effect, and no one will think you prey free for the taking. You have our protection.”
“Our conditional protection.” Raphael corrects, “You have expectations to maintain, and even so, Haarlep and I will be quite busy. We will not be watching after you directly, though rest assured, you will not have a moment’s true privacy for any of your… escapades.”
Oh shit, does Raphael know? No, he can’t! Surely he’d have mentioned it- surely I’d be dead by now.
I keep my face neutral as I can and Haarlep brings me to a full length mirror where I can see myself in the full effect the devils transformation of me. I hardly recognize the woman in the mirror, though of course it’s me. The off-shoulder dress hugs me tightly around my waist before flowing out at my hips. I did not see the subtle red, gold and ruby details in the dress before, but it is every bit as extravagant as what Raphael and Haarlep are wearing. The make-up enhances my eyes and lips in a way I have not seen before and makes my face look alien to me. The woman in the mirror is beautiful and a perfect match for the two devils flanking her on either side, but she isn’t who I am. Not really.
“A final touch.” Raphael says and places a beautiful necklace with a teardrop-shaped ruby that lies tightly around my throat. The implication is clear; it is my collar.
“Perfection.” Raphael takes us all in through the mirror looking satisfied, “I shall go ensure our players are hitting their marks and we shall make our entrance. Brace yourself, mouse. This is very much, the role of your lifetime and we do not have easily charmed critics in attendance.” Raphael leaves Haarlep and I for a moment alone.
“Do you think he knows?” I ask Haarlep in a whisper
“Does who know of what, mouse?” Haarlep responds in a way that tells me this is not the time or place to ask if we truly got away with our temporary escape. Raphael returns immediately looking frustrated and… almost anxious?
“What is it, Master? Is it he?” Haarlep asks.
“Yes. Mephistopheles is in attendance. But it is of no matter, we are prepared.” Raphael says, regaining his composure. He turns to me again and speaks very seriously, “You know your role: you are the soul who has been exchanged for the tool that can save your world. You are to be obedient, you are not to speak unless spoken to, and under no circumstances are you to speak so much as a word to Mephistopheles without my supervision. Do you understand?”
“Are you not ready for me to meet your father so soon?” I ask innocently. Haarlep releases a small snort of laughter and Raphael’s jaw tightens.
“You may either join this event as my honored guest or as the main course of dinner.” Raphael threatens calmly sending a chill through my spine, “Believe me, I will be satisfied either way.” He clasps his hands together and stands to his fullest height, towering over me. Even with the heel, I hardly come up to his chest in this form. He gestures for me to move forward through the door and I am left with no choice but to go along with whatever literal hellish events are in store for me this evening.
The worst part of all of this, the threats, the demands, being treated like little more than a doll or trinket, is that I am undeniably turned on by it.
“Now. Let us go greet our guests. After you, mouse.”
Summary: Our Hero (?) Tav is going to have her first sleepover with Haarlep! Tav rolls all nat 1's on perception, my god.
....
Haarlep allows me to wash my face and use the latrine in private. A small mercy, but one all the same. I look in the mirror above the washing basin. My face looks like hell, appropriately enough. There are dried tear streaks down my cheeks- though I hardly remember crying. My eyes look tired, puffy, and sad. My hair looks a right mess, sticking out every which way, and I feel with my hand how matted it is in the back. It seems like a film of dust or dirt covers my skin. My clothing is dirtied and smelly from blood and sweat. I splash some more water on my face, wanting to recognize myself- wanting to feel like myself.
These devils do their work well, I’ll give them that. My choices to either rot alone in a room without time or play their games until they choose to break me again is a clever method of torture that follows the boundaries of our contract.
By the time I return to where Haarlep is, they are in their male cambion form. I notice now, though, they do not look exactly like Raphael. Though the features are similar- Haarlep’s jaw is a bit more square, their nose a bit more narrow and straight, and they look maybe a decade younger than Raphael.
“You look much better already, mouse.” Haarlep says happily, stirring the mixture they’ve been making for my wrists. “I can return to my feminine form if you’d like. I don this one mostly of habit. It also makes it easier to reach tinctures on the top shelves.” They say with a small wink.
“Whiche--I don’t… you don’t look like Raphael. Not exactly. His ears stick out more.” I say, now distracted by all the differences I see in them.
“Well spotted.” They say, as if to a child who pointed to the most obvious thing in the world, “This form, my most common one, is something of a hybrid between Raphael and my True Form. The Master isn’t fond of it when I wear him exactly when he is not present. It confuses the other residents here, though I confess that is a portion of the fun for me.”
I am almost tempted to smile. I do not sense that Haarlep is using their charm abilities to draw me in, but they are, unfortunately, very charismatic.
“Can I see your True Form?” I ask as they beckon me over with one finger, ready to apply the salve.
“No, dear one. That is a privilege as rare as any. Though, perhaps one day.” Haarlep holds my wrist in their hand and tenderly dabs the mixture onto the most irritated and bloodied parts of my wrist. It feels cold, then warms, then cools again, cycling between the two temperatures. “If you stay long enough and are very well behaved.”
“I don’t plan on staying long.” Or being ‘well-behaved’.
“Your plans are of little consequence, I’m afraid.” Haarlep says as they begin on my other wrist, “Though your tenacity is… sweet. There has been no word of your friends progress. No news of the Elder Brain nor anything major with the Absolutists. You may be here for some time, though it needn’t be all bad. It doesn’t have to be very bad at all, in fact. We could have quite some good fun together.” Haarlep wraps a warm wet fabric around my wrists to let the salve settle into my skin.
I consider Haarlep’s words, fighting a lump in my throat. I don’t know if I can believe what they say- any of it. For all I know, my friends are on their way back now, but I’m also unsure if my wishful thinking is very realistic.
“You do not need to be sad. Not now.” Haarlep says gently, placing a hand on my arm. “I do not want this for you.”
I scoff, “Coming from the creature that’s orchestrated my punishment here?”
“I ensured you and your friends' lives were spared. I’ve advocated for you- encouraged Raphael to be more gentle than he wished.” Haarlep doesn’t speak defensively, but factually.
“But… why? Why bother at all with us?”
“A very good question. You are quite valuable, you know- even in the hells, there is talk of your party. Destined to save Faerun, surviving impossible obstacles, and dealing with devils is all very impressive. More than that, though, you specifically are bullheaded and stubborn. Irrational and impulsive.”
“Alright, you lost me a little in the second half of that…”
Haarlep's lips purse together, as if trying not to openly laugh. “You intrigue me, little one. I am not often intrigued. You’ve seen how the other residents are with Raphael, licking at his boots, never questioning his judgment. You are not afraid of him in the same way, although you have every reason to be. There have not been many like you to come through our doors…”
My mind leaps to Hope. I wonder if she’s had the same conversation I’m having with Haarlep...
“So… you do not want me tortured? You want to help?” I ask carefully.
“Well… that is not quite so simple... Here, allow me to remove your bandages, and we will find you something to eat. Something as decadent and delicious as you are.” Haarlep evades my question with a flirt, but I feel myself blush anyway. Stupid incubus.
Carefully, Haarlep removes the fabric wrapped around my arms. With a warm, wet cloth in a washing basin, Haarlep removes the excess of the salve, and my wrists are in far better shape. There is still some discoloration, but the open wounds have closed, leaving only a faint scar.
“A significant improvement,” Haarlep says with a gentle kiss on my healed wrist on the exact spot Raphael had taken a drop of blood with his tongue. “Now, for sustenance.”
Haarlep lightly touches my cheek as they pass by me towards one of the wardrobes that line the walls.
Haarlep takes out an exact replica of the outfit often worn by Raphael and puts it on over their leather harness. The features of their face morph a little, and suddenly, they are the devil himself.
“Come, mouse. Let’s find ourselves some proper food.” Haarlep indicates that I should follow them, and I do so, wondering whether there is a costume change for many of Haarlep’s day-to-day activities. Haarlep had said, not 5 minutes prior, that Raphael does not approve of them wearing his form, though far be it from me to question someone who is disobeying the master of the house.
A series of confusing, hidden staircases and hallways that seem to appear from nowhere leave me nearly jogging to keep up with Haarlep, who does not slow their pace or look back to see if I am nearby. They assume Raphael’s walk: stiff shoulders, perfect posture, and stern expression. I am practically running to keep up with their long strides so when they stop suddenly, I am met with a face full of Haarlep’s back and I nearly fall backward.
“Oof!”
“Pay attention, mouse.” Haarlep scolds me in Raphael’s low register. The change is so different and sudden from how Haarlep was acting in the other rooms that I stand up straight in surprise. In front of Harleep is Korilla, looking at them suspiciously.
“Back already, Master? I thought you had matters to attend to with--“
“And I thought my whereabouts did not require an explanation to the likes of you, Korilla.” Haarlep’s impersonation of Raphael is very good. Calm, authoritative, with a clearly threatening undertone.
“Of course not, Master. My apologies.” Korilla says and looks down, indicating submission, but she does not seem entirely convinced. She looks back up and eyes me.
“The mouse is out of its hole, I see. Finally learning your place, mouse?” Korilla mocks at me. Before I can so much as make a face, Haarlep has Korilla around the throat with one large hand, nearly lifting her off her feet
“If my whereabouts are none of your concern, you can be confident that my wards are similarly of no consequence to you,” Haarlep says slowly before letting go. Korilla steps back a few paces, coughing and holding her throat before quickly recovering.
“I… Yes, my lord. Of course.”
“Very good. Now go find that ridiculous incubus of mine and send them to their rooms. Haarlep was meant to meet me there nearly an hour ago now, and Mephistopheles only knows where they’ve slithered off to.”
“Yes, Master. Right away.” Korila says and hurries past us in another direction, but not before giving me a look of pure hate, as if I were the one who was choking her a moment ago. After Korilla turns a corner and is entirely out of sight, Haarlep turns to me and gives me a big playful wink.
I really don’t want to like Haarlep, but they are making it difficult…
We keep moving through the house with all the hellspawn we encounter, either cowering away from or attempting to impress Haarlep as Raphael in some way. I am generally either ignored or met with a sneer from the others here.
Souls flicker in and out of existence throughout the house, many muttering to themselves, and only about half seem to be aware of anyone around them. I do not see Hope, but I keep an eye out for her. I worry she was caught by the jailor that she was worried about. I briefly wonder if I could help her somehow while I’m here instead of waiting for my companions and the Hammer, but I would need a real plan…
We reach the main chamber of the House of Hope with the feasting table and all its glory. Sausage links, roasted vegetables, pastries, and all manner of food await the next poor, desperate soul with no other options. Haarlep calls over a servant with a snap of their fingers and orders several foodstuffs and wines to be brought to the room of ’that ridiculous incubus of mine’, which seems to be a favored phrase. The servant nods and moves quickly, arranging a large plate that I have to admit looks mouthwatering. They disappear in a puff of smoke, and we begin to trace our steps back through the labyrinth that is the House of Hope
For our entire journey, Haarlep never breaks character aside from the single wink from earlier with Korilla. Occasionally, Haarlep would snap their head towards a creature who was passing by, and without exception, each jumped to attention, ready to accept either some kind of punishment or orders, before seeming confused, then relieved when their Master just kept walking without delivering either. One wouldn’t know unless looking for it specifically, but the fabric bunches slightly differently around the rear of Raphael’s pants, where Haarlep is wearing the leather harness underneath. I wonder if Raphael walks around in leathers or harnesses under his fineries...
We return to the rooms that I know for certain now are Haarlep’s, and the door closes behind us with a heavy thud. Haarlep moves their hand across the door, and I hear a ‘click’ like it’s been locked.
“Korilla’s been here, likely looking for me.” Haarlep says as their face changes back to their ‘usual’ one, “it smells like anger and suspicion. And not just yours, dear one.”
I almost smile at that. The walk was a pleasant change, all things considered. I am not used to being sedentary and didn’t know how much my body craved movement. I feel a little stronger and more refreshed, having nearly had to jog to keep up with the cambion’s long strides.
“Do you think she knew it was you?” I ask Haarlep as they strip off Raphael’s clothes and arrange them neatly back in the wardrobe. I let myself admire Haarlep’s body while their back is turned as they flex and stretch, appearing to feel over-encumbered by wearing clothing. Their disposition is more fluid and sultry now, so different from Raphael’s controlled posture, though both have a theatricality to their movements and gesticulation. As they roll their shoulders and stretch their arms, the muscles in their back flex with raw power. Haarlep must be twice my size at least in this form…
“It is likely. I do not play the Master around the House often, but Korilla does have a sense for such falsehoods. She is as discerning as she is unpleasant.”
“I cannot imagine ‘the Master of the House’ is fond of your impersonating him.”
“Not in common areas or public, no.” Haarlep says with a small smile as they turn to me, “Certainly not without his permission, which is why this is our little secret. Now… shall we dine or bathe first?”
Haarlep moves to a table not far from the wardrobe, where a plate piled high with food has already been arranged on three-tiered silver platters. Bottles of wine and glasses are already waiting to be used.
This display of food must have been next to Haarlep the entire time while they were changing, but I was apparently too busy ogling the incubus.
Focus, Tav! For the Gods’ sake!
The food looks and smells delicious, now that I’m noticing it. My stomach gurgles audibly.
“Oh, you mortals!” Haarlep says adoringly, putting a hand over their chest, “You do have the funniest little quirks. Come. Fill your plate.”
I approach the table, and Haarlep hands me a silver plate. I select a smattering of food, trying to sense if there is any poison...
“No poison, suspicious mouse. If I had wanted you sick or hurt, I would have done so by now dozens of times over, and I would hardly put in so much effort to trick you.” Haarlep says patiently, like they’ve explained this repeatedly and to a child. I suppose they’re right, but it doesn’t stop me from smelling each food item before I put it on my plate. Haarlep shrugs with a little smile as if enjoying a private joke.
“Can’t be too careful.” I say a little defensively, “It’s gotten me this far.”
“Suspicious of a cake but willing to shout for all to hear that an archdevil is a disappointing bedfellow. Your survival skills must be very finely tuned, indeed.” Haarlep says in a way that reminds me of Gale’s sarcasm. This time, I can’t help but laugh a little, though I try to cover it as a cough, lest Haarlep think I enjoy their company.
Which I don’t... Which I can’t. I cannot enjoy Haarlep’s company.
“Let us sit, before your belly admonishes me again for not feeding you.” Haarlep gestures towards a seat by the table and takes the one across from me. They cross their legs and pour two glasses of wine, placing one in front of me. I reach for a glass of water instead.
I take one bite of some sausage and nearly moan with satisfaction. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten properly- even counting the time spent outside of that godsdamned void of a room. The food is beautifully seasoned and spiced. Meat pies with crispy, browned crusts, fresh sun melon with a spice that complements its sweetness, already cut into bite-sized cubes, and hot, crispy vegetables fill my plate.
“Erm… are you going to eat?” I ask, around a mouthful of food. It feels impolite to eat in front of someone who isn’t, even though I am in the hells and dining across from a being who has contributed to orchestrating my torture.
“Would it put you more at ease if I did?” Haarlep asks, taking a single apple and putting it on their plate. It feels performative.
“No… just… You know. If you’re hungry…” I say awkwardly. I take a bite of sunmelon to assert that I don’t care if Haarlep eats or not, but I don’t think my point was effective.
Haarlep takes a generous bite of the apple, a trail of juice beginning to fall down their chin before Haarlep catches it with one finger, lifts it to their mouth, and slowly licks the juice from it, with a small sound of satisfaction. I pretend to cough again and look at my water, trying not to be jealous of a fucking apple.
“I am a creature of many appetites, pet. Though what I most hunger for right now is more information about our newest resident. Shall we play a game while we feast?”
“A game...” I say incredulously as I tuck into one of the meat pies.
“Yes, dear one. A game. You’ve played the surface game Speak or Sip, I trust? A player must either answer a question truthfully or take a sip of their drink.”
“Yes, I’ve played,” I say, remembering some long nights with my companions as we’d ask each other increasingly intimate questions or dare each other to do increasingly absurd things, sides aching from laughter and drink. This game hardly seems like it would do me well with my present company and circumstances.
“Excellent. Ask your question first.” Haarlep says and pours us both a glass of wine.
“Oh, no. This isn’t happening. How could I trust your answers to be truthful?”
Haarlep stands, abandoning the apple, and goes to a set of cabinets where they store the materials used to heal my wrists. They pull out a small glass jar with a dropper and place it on the table in front of me. The label has both infernal and common on it: Haarlep has brought out a truth serum.
“If you think I’m stupid enough—”
“No, no, my disputatious darling, I would not ask this of you. I can sense your lies easily enough. It is for me alone.” Haarlep pours a full dropperful of the serum into their own wine, closes the topper, and puts it back in the cabinet. Haarlep returns, sitting relaxedly swirling the wine that now has truth serum in it. They raise an eyebrow, as if to ask: am I going to play this game with them?
“Fine. But I’m drinking a new, sealed bottle of wine. I’m not risking you switching drinks. And I get to say the game is over at any point I deem fit.”
“I accept your terms and conditions,” Haarlep says with a wide smile, “You may just fit down here more than you’re ready to think, my friend.”
I glare at Haarlep for that comment before selecting a white, so it is more distinct from their own drink, and open the bottle. This could be a chance to get some real information from Haarlep about the Raphael, the hells, the contract… maybe even Hope. Or, it might be my worst idea yet.
Once each of our drinks has been prepared, I try to match Haarlep’s confident and relaxed posture in the chair. I can do this. I can turn this to my advantage.
“To you, dear.” Haarlep raises their glass in toast and takes a sip of their drink, “Your turn first: ask your question.”
“Do truth serums even work on you?” I ask- not because that’s even the first question I had, but because it just occurred to me that Haarlep may be stacking the odds against me.
“Yes, they do. Though I suppose if they didn’t and I were lying now, I would say the same thing, so we shall leave this to your discretion. It is my turn now: did you enjoy our little outing to go retrieve your food?”
“As much as I’ve enjoyed anything while I’ve been here,” I say. A truth, tampered by bitterness, but a truth all the same. “My turn: who were you … intimate with in my form?”
“No one has touched me when I’ve worn you aside from myself... though there have been eyes to watch.” I can feel my face scrunch in discomfort, and Haarlep explains, “Not many. Raphael, of course, and Korilla. The Archivist was present for some of it, but he seemed so full of hate for you that he left nearly as soon as I changed.”
“Ugh. Good.” I say and finish the last of the food on my plate, belly full for the first time in a while.
“A brief intermission from our game,” Haarlep announces, “You have been fed, wounds tended to, your legs stretched- all that is left is a bath. You will bathe with me, won’t you?”
“I… erm.”
“If you are worried about our game ending prematurely, we can easily bring it with us.”
“That is obviously not what I—”
“If you are worried about me seeing your naked form, do not be. Not only have I seen it, made love to it, but I have also been it; there are few secrets left between us in this regard. If you are hesitant because you would like privacy, move past that hesitation because it is simply not an option now. If you are worried about feeling vulnerable, know that the doors are locked. It is only us. I have no intention of causing you harm, and you are no better prepared to fight anyone or anything naked and clean than you are now in your filthy shield of road clothes.”
“Well…” I say, trying to think of some other reason Haarlep has not already pointed out.
“You would like a bath, would you not? Have another sip of wine, dear one, and let me take care of you in this way.” Haarlep stands and extends their hand towards me. I take it and we move towards the pool, “Fingers massaging your scalp, lightly scented soaps and lotions tending to your skin, candles and the petals of flowers around you… Does that not sound like heaven inside of a hell?”
