Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Astarion’s eyes followed their de facto leader’s form as she reorganised their supplies. She walked around, counting each apple, each rope. Her braids swung as she moved, her brows furrowed in concentration. Completely unaware of the beast that watched her every move. A true ingenue. He rubbed his tongue against his fangs, his mouth suddenly dry. Even if it had been days already, he could still feel her, taste her. If he closed his eyes, Astarion could picture her writhing underneath him, gasping quietly, for his ears only. His first. Well, first feed that wasn’t a rat or other vermin, that is. Who knew that after nearly two centuries, Astarion would be able to have new experiences? He hadn’t thought it possible while being Cazador’s puppet, but that little tadpole inside his brain had granted him a certain autonomy, so to speak, he did not want to give up. And to keep basking in this newfound freedom, it had become very apparent to him that he needed Nia.

She baffled him, particularly on the night she had oh so graciously given him her blood. Alright, she did so after he had persuaded her, of course, but the point still stands that Nia had not attempted to kill him or hurt him in any capacity after finding out his little secret. He didn’t believe any of the others would have reacted in the same way, even after sweet-talking them. And true, Astarion was an expert manipulator, and yet he knew his words hadn’t, ultimately, convinced her. After being startled, she could have tried to kill him with the dagger he knew she always carried; or at least attempted to break his nose or knee him. Instead, she had very patiently waited for his explanation before offering him her blood. He wasn’t sure yet if it was his charisma or something else that had made her relent. An ugly part of himself wondered if he had looked so pathetic and hungry that night, that Nia had pitied him. Astarion consoled himself with the fact that it seemed she was just like that. She had acted similarly during their first meeting, as he roughly held her, dagger close to her neck, forcing her to give him the answers he craved. Astarion had thought her naïve back then, and indeed, he often thought she was too caring and selfless for her own good. Always wanting to help others. Never asking for gold in return for her help. Amassing a party filled with the most peculiar of individuals, all of whom could very easily kill her.

As much as he silently judged her ─and, believe him, he had bitten his tongue on countless occasions during her many acts of selflessness─ it had almost touched him how sweet Nia had been about the whole ordeal. She had even defended him, of all people, from the group’s accusations. Convinced them to accept him into the group once more, dissuading them of their justified worries. His life was safe once more, but the situation had made Astarion aware of one simple fact: Nia was the only thing standing between him and a stake. If he wanted to keep living, and potentially even defeat his evil master, he needed her. He needed to gain her trust.

In other times, he would’ve thought Brunhilde, their second in command, was better suited as a protector. She was a half-orc with remarkable strength and the skills to intimidate most anyone. However, for some reason, she hadn’t wanted to take charge right after their ragtag team had been formed. Astarion had since discovered she wasn’t the brightest of the bunch and preferred to keep to herself. She’d also growled at him when he had attempted to flirt with her. Nia, on the other hand, had laughed and flirted back, lips curling in a knowing smile. It had excited him then, made him feel at ease in this strange new situation he was in. He’d noticed that Nia had a way with people, which is why despite her lack of physical prowess, she’d been chosen as their leader. It also helped she was rather easy on the eyes. Now, although Astarion wasn’t one to discriminate against, he could admit that, objectively speaking, Nia was the most beautiful out of his companions. She had that elven beauty that could only be described as otherworldly. Astarion imagined he had it as well. Tough to know when one couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, but he’d been described as beautiful before. Divine even. She was too. It did stir something in him, loath he was to accept it. Nonetheless, this attraction made his most basic instincts kick in after having tasted her blood. Of doing what he knew how to do best. This time for himself and not for others. How to go about it, though?

One of the first lessons Cazador had ingrained in him was knowing his targets. Before luring his targets, Astarion would learn all pertinent information about his victims and use it against them. It only took him some minutes of observation to assess the situation until he got what he wanted from them. This situation he was in wasn’t any different. If he wanted to manipulate Nia into helping him, he needed to find out everything about her. What she liked. What made her tick. Perhaps, what made her moan even. The problem was that, although she was good at making others talk, she wasn’t the best sharer. What did Astarion know about her? Her name was Nia, of course. She was a high elf such as himself, which posed some difficulties. How old was she? Even he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Elves were tricky like that. She could’ve been as young as eighteen or older than he was. Her naivete pointed to the former rather than the latter, but one could never know for sure. She was a wizard, but not a, well, Gale-like wizard. Less foolishly ambitious, not much of a talker, and a bit bookish, if all the books she gathered from their travels were anything to go by. She had told him she hailed from Baldur’s Gate, although Nia could’ve been lying, he didn’t think so. What else? Ah. He knew what her blood tasted like. Sweet. Floral. Supple. With a slight zest to it. Like the most delicious of wines. Hells, just thinking about it made Astarion hungry.

He shook his head. You need to focus. He made a mental list of all he knew about her.

1. High Elf
2. Wizard
3. Baldurian
4. Blood like wine

So, virtually nothing.

He pouted and half-heartedly glared at Nia, as she sat down and took out a book from her satchel to read. Oh, why did she have to be so mysterious? An insidious thought made its way into his head, telling him that she was secretive to him only. He hadn’t yet earned her trust, it would seem. Perhaps Brunhilde, Shadowheart or even Karlach knew more details about her, but it would be bloody impossible to get that information out of them. Firstly, because Brunhilde never talked to him. Secondly, Shadowheart had so many secrets herself, she no doubt would protect Nia’s from the likes of him. And thirdly, Karlach was more likely to make fun of him than to share anything useful.

No, if he wanted to know everything about Nia, he would need to go to the source herself.

He got up from his chair and walked towards her. He was so silent; Nia didn’t notice his approach. She was still engrossed with her book. Astarion peaked at it. It was a tome they had found today in some ruins. He made a note of it and then coughed to signal his arrival. Nia was startled. She jumped and then turned to look at him with her bright amethyst eyes.

“Astarion…” she whispered, a little breathless.

How endearing, he thought as she looked at her open mouth. Her pink lips had made a perfect o, and her chest heaved with each breath. “Hello, darling,” he greeted her, giving her a ─at least he hoped so─ friendly smile.

Nia composed herself and smiled back at him. “Did you need something?” She asked, her eyes glancing over his body.

Astarion smirked. Did she like what she saw? He hoped she did.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

She pursed her lips and one of her hands briefly touched her neck.

Oh. So that’s why she was looking so intently at him. Disappointment wormed its way into his heart, but he shot it down. Focus, Astarion.

“Ah, no,” he quickly corrected, “I do not need to feed yet. Well, not from you at least. As delicious as that would be.” He winked at her.

“I imagine you can hardly wait,” she replied, mirth dancing in her eyes.

Astarion’s smirk returned.

“I suppose next time I’m in need of you, we could make an evening out of it. I could bring wine into your tent.”

“Yes, that’d be nice. I could bring supper.”

At that a true chuckle bubbled from his throat.

“A lovely thought, my dear. But one we can leave, perhaps, for another occasion, if you will.”

Nia snorted and closed her book, putting it aside. She, then, looked at him with mischievousness. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your most honourable visit, Magistrate Astarion?” She said, extending her arms in a mock bow.

Astarion laughed freely this time. It was so easy to flirt with Nia, and so fun too. Flirting for him was only a method of survival. A means to an end that most often than not involved sex. Other times it was meant to be a deflection. A way to conceal his thoughts and feelings. It kept others at bay, which had worked like a charm around their companions, who did not appreciate his witty remarks. Nia, however, was different. She seemed amused by his flirtations, even if they mildly exasperated her. They never deterred her from trying to get to know him, something Astarion had taken note of. It felt like she could read him. It was not ideal, but it was useful information. He could work with that. She’d even begun flirting first on occasion. He wasn’t sure if it was attraction which drove her to follow his lead or if she was merely diverted. Perhaps it was a misguided attempt to connect with him. Whatever it was, he could use it against her and in his favour.

“Well, you see, darling, you’ve been so very bad.”

Nia raised a blonde eyebrow at him. “Oh. How so?” Amusement still laced her voice, but he could see his words had bothered her.

Astarion sighed dramatically and plopped himself down next to her. “Here I am, always pouring my soul to you, and yet, I hardly know anything about you.”

Sometimes, banking on honesty was the best course of action, even when they were half-truths.

“Sure, you do,” she answered. “You know my name.”

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’m trying to get you to sharing, and you mock me.” She giggled and he scoffed. Then, Astarion picked up the book she had been reading and pretended to examine it. “So far you know my darkest secret, the identity of my master, my age, even the circumstances of my death. And what do I know about you?”

Nia took the book from his hands. “You could use the tadpole to find what you want,” she said, her voice sounding like a dare.

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? No, I’d rather grill you until you cave and reveal all your skeletons in the cupboard.”

He laid it thick, knowing it would work.

She sighed. But it didn’t sound like a bad kind of sigh. More like a resigned one. “What do you want to know?”

Astarion smirked. Like the expert hunter he was, he had captured his prey.

“Well, darling, everything there is to know about you!”

“Everything, huh?” Nia gnawed at her teeth as she thought, a habit of hers Astarion had noticed. “I suppose I can start at the beginning. I’m a wizard─”

“─obviously.” He interrupted her, gaining an exasperated huff.

“─consultant at the academy in Baldur’s Gate.” She finished. “I study different texts to gather knowledge and create new spells. I teach said spells to the academy students. Occasionally, I do some translating work from Elvish and other languages to the common tongue.”

“So, you’re telling me you’re a teacher and a scholar? How boring of you, darling.” Well, it was no wonder he had never seen her in town. He’d been right. They did not frequent the same circles at all and thank the gods for that. Nia was exactly the kind of sweet thing Cazador would like to possess and destroy. He shook those dark thoughts from his head. Instead, he batted his eyelashes playfully at her. “Although, I would’ve killed to have a hot teacher like you. I imagine most of your students can’t learn a thing when you talk. I certainly wouldn’t. I’d be too distracted to pay attention.”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “As if you’d do any schoolwork anyway.”

“You know me so well, my dear.”

“It’s not just academics, though. There’ve been times I’ve had to practice what I learn in more practical ways. Here. Outside.” She gestured to the camp. “Putting my sword to good use.”

“Oh? So that’s why you haven’t struggled like I have in our current conditions.”

“I suppose. Although I’m not that used to roughing it out here either.”

Astarion kept this new information in mind. A bladesinging wizard with a lot of dedication to new spells and some practical experience, huh. She might just know something that could be useful to him in the long run. And she might be well-connected with other important mages. Might even be the teacher of the children of the powerful people in Baldur’s Gate. Nia was definitely not a bad ally to have.

“What else can I tell you?” She suddenly asked out loud, seemingly deep in thought.

It’d been so easy after all to get her talking. I should’ve done this earlier, he thought.

“What about your age?” This was one of the most important things Astarion wanted to know for selfish reasons.

She gasped in mocked offense. “A gentleman shouldn’t ask such questions of a lady.”

“Good news I’m not a gentleman all the time.”

“Guess,” she said. It was a dare, one he’d gladly take.

“You could be so much younger than Lae’zel, and at the same time, you could be older than me. Hard to tell,” Astarion said, gauging her reactions carefully.

“What does your gut tell you?”

His gut told him this was a trick question. “You don’t look a day past sixteen.”

She pretended to laugh, but Astarion could tell her cheeks had turned a lovely shade of pink. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” she said, and then she reached to flick his nose.

“On the contrary, it’s what gets me to most places,” he said, grabbing her hand and, with a flourish, kissing it.

Nia pulled her hand away, cheeks still flushed. Her innocence would let anyone believe she was, in fact, quite young. How easily she blushed didn’t help in the matter. However, the way she had laughed at his guess made him think she was much older than she looked.

“Whatever I guess, I’m going to assume I’m still older than you.”

“You’d be correct in that guess. I’m older than sixteen, but younger than you are.” So that left him with too many options still.

“Ah, how despicable of me to have drunk the blood of such a young maiden!” Astarion exclaimed. He then wondered if Nia was, indeed, a maiden. The thought ignited something in him.

“No wonder I tasted so good,” she jested. “You had a taste of my youth.”

It was his turn to laugh. “No, you’re not an adolescent if you’re a teacher and a scholar. But, who knows, you might just be a prodigy.”

Nia leaned down until her mouth was in his pointy ear, and lowering her voice, she said in a false sweet voice, “And you shall never know.”

Her breath tickled his ear in a delightful way. But he couldn’t afford to get distracted by her pretty eyes. He cleared his throat and continued with his interrogation. “Ah, since the lady won’t divulge her age, I will ask something else. What about your life? Do you have family waiting for you in Baldur’s Gate? Friends? Lovers?”

Nia’s social circle was valuable information to have. Did she come from a famous and powerful family? What about her friends? Were they all wizards? Such matters were of the upmost importance. If there was anyone at all waiting for her, they were probably actively looking for her. They could, potentially, even offer rewards for her whereabouts. They could help him out in exchange for getting Nia back, safe and sound. Then, there was another part of Astarion which was simply curious about it. Was she married? She did not appear to be attached, and if she was, he felt sorry for the poor sod, for here was their partner openly flirting with a vampire, joking or not aside. And if Nia had a partner and perhaps children too out there, why would Astarion care? An uncomfortable feeling bloomed inside of him at the thought.

“I have a mother,” Nia said, interrupting his train of thought. “I don’t speak to her.”

Her voice had a bite to it that he had only heard when she spoke to criminals and other villains that had come their way. Well, this is interesting. Who knew Nia had what could only be described as mother issues? That made for a rebellious daughter. And said rebellious daughters tended to be whisked away from their beds by rakes.

“Ah, that’s a shame. I would love to meet your mother. No doubt she’s as charming as you are.”

She laughed. “Oh, I’m sure she’d love you.”

He ignored her jab and pressed on. “And what about friends? Surely, with the way you have convinced these, erm, peculiar individuals to form a group and travel together, you must be drowning in social invitations.” Hopefully some of those friends were rich and all powerful.

Nia shyly put a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her braids danced in the sudden gust of wind. “Believe it or not, I’m quite introverted.”

That was quite the surprise. “Really? You’re so noisy I would’ve thought otherwise.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, Astarion.”

“Well, darling, look at this camp,” he said, gesturing to their companions who were all minding their business inside their respective tents. “We barely tolerate each other, and yet, we’re all positively charmed by you. It takes skill to get us to open up. Though I had pinpointed you as being reserved, hence this conversation.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I usually don’t enjoy being around others, unless it’s imperative for me to do so.”

“I guess our current situation makes it imperative for you to socialize.”

“Indeed. And I imagine it’s the opposite for you. You seem like the life of the party.”

Oh, if you only knew.

“But this isn’t about me,” Astarion said, turning the conversation back to what he was eager to know, “it’s about you. So, spill.”

She thought about it for a moment. “I guess some of my colleagues could count as friends. My only true friend doesn’t live in Baldur’s Gate. They prefer to stay hidden in their state a few hours away from the city.”

Nia had given him the most boring answer in the world.

“And?”

“And I suppose some of the people I’ve met in my previous travels could be considered friendly acquaintances, but no one I’m particularly close to.”

Oh, she was a loner indeed. There would be no reward waiting for him it seemed.

“How do you even spend your days?” Astarion blurted out, feeling exasperated.

His words made Nia chuckle. “With my head stuck in books. I haven’t had this much excitement since… well, I honestly don’t think I’ve ever had this much adventure.”

“Clearly.”

“It might be a boring life, but at least I wasn’t fighting for my life every single day. And I do miss my bed.”

So, in the end Nia had shared a big fat nothing and the things he knew about her were as inconsequential as the others he’d known before.

1. High Elf
2. Wizard
3. Baldurian
4. Blood like wine
5. Works at the academy
6. Hates her mother
7. No friends

Why had he even bothered having this conversation if her life was this insipid, Astarion wondered. He knew Nia was cryptic on purpose. Despite her words, she didn’t trust him fully. Deep down he was glad she wasn’t that obtuse, otherwise he would’ve questioned their collective wisdom. Even so, it frustrated him to no end. There must have been something else about Nia. Something about her life, small details that would help him piece her together. Thankfully, not everything was lost, for there was an angle he hadn’t yet tried.

“With such a full life,” sarcasm dripped from his voice, “I imagine there are no lovers in the picture.”

At that, her calm expression changed. It was almost imperceptible. Certainly, someone like Gale wouldn’t have noticed it, but Astarion was an expert at reading people. Something shifted in her eyes. Her heartbeat changed.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Her reply appeared to be innocuous while hiding something.

“Ah, so there is a lover moving heaven and earth to find you somewhere in Baldur’s Gate,” he said, gesturing dramatically.

Her eyes were downcast at his words, as if they’d hurt her somehow. “I wouldn’t say that either.” She coughed and played with her hands, all nervous habits of hers.

“Well, which is it, darling? Lover or no lover?”

A straight answer needed a straight question.

“I… there are no lovers… currently, but there have been. In the past. Just not now.” Nia stammered, tripping all over her words, as if having this conversation made her want to rip all her nails from her fingers. “Not for the past five years at least.”

“And here I thought you were still a maiden,” Astarion joked, easing the mood. He wasn’t going to let her realize he had ulterior motives.

“Wouldn’t you like to know that,” she haughtily replied.

Oh. But he did. Now he knew she wasn’t a maiden, among other interesting things, like the fact she’d been a celibate for half a decade. His mind started buzzing with this information. Old habits kicked in as he leant down towards her.

“Whatever the case, I’m still probably more experienced and could teach you a thing or two, if you’d like,” he said, his voice sultry, almost a whisper in her ear. He felt her shiver against his shoulder as he brushed against her.

Her cheeks flushed once more. “I doubt anyone here in camp is more experienced than you.” She steered the conversation out of dangerous territory into something light-hearted. Astarion pouted.

“Oh, they definitely aren’t, my dear. I doubt Gale could hold a candle to me.”

“Why do you keep bringing up Gale?” She asked so innocently he had to snort.

“No particular reason. I’m just saying that for bed related matters, I’m your man.”

His eyes bore into Nia’s on purpose, making the elf squirm.

“Well, if that kind of knowledge ever becomes a necessity, I’ll come to you right away.” Her voice was a tone higher, and her heart raced against her ribcage.

“Oh, I’m sure you will.” His voice dropped an octave as he once again whispered in her ear.

Nia just stared at him, dazed, as he smiled predatorily at her. He was delighted to see her become so affected by him.

“This conversation has been most enlightening, darling, but I’m afraid it’s time for me to go hunting,” he suddenly said, catching her off guard.

“Oh, yes of course. It was… ah… it was nice talking to you.”

“It was my pleasure, Nia.” He let her name roll off his tongue in a sultry thrall that made her breath catch in her throat.

With that, he left her, hot and bothered.

For the first time, his innuendos had worked like a charm on her.

Now he knew what he needed to do.

Despite everything, Nia was quite simple to get. For whatever reason, she kept her true desires hidden and placated. Whatever her story was, she craved intimacy but rejected it. Which was why she was so comfortable flirting back with him. She read it as a joke between the two of them. But the moment he pushed a bit further, she didn’t know what to do with it. Did she feel genuinely attracted to him? Hard to know. Even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t take long to seduce her. To show her exactly what she’d been missing. That would be his angle. Not unlike the rest of his victims. But it would be different this time. No, not for one night. For as many as it took. And, like an expert hunter, Astarion would take his time to snare her until she couldn’t escape him anymore.

Patience, he thought to himself, patience, and soon she’ll be wrapped around your little finger.

Let the games begin.

Chapter Text

Astarion soon found he had severely underestimated how easy it would be to seduce Nia. Yes, he had been able to fluster her before, but since then nothing he did had worked. He still flirted with her, added more pet names to call her, made himself readily available to go with her on different adventures; hells, he even petted the mutt in her vicinity. Nothing. She just smiled at him, amethyst eyes shining under the sun, and carried on as always. She was just so infuriating. It didn’t help she gave the same smiles to everyone in camp. Brunhilde, Karlach, Wyll and Shadowheart, he could understand. But Gale? Why was she even so excited to talk to him? Oh yes. Both were bookworms who liked to look over scrolls in the evenings. Nia never asked him what he read, and Astarion was sure he knew more than Gale after an eternity of living.

He glared at her as she laughed with Karlach, unaware of how uncooperative she had been these past few days. Astarion half wished he had the ability of hypnosis to snare her faster. However, another part of himself was getting excited at the prospect of a true hunt. After nearly two hundred years of reciting the same script over and over, his seductions had grown stale. He knew he could have anyone he wanted at any time. There was no thrill to it. Nia was different. Perhaps, deep down, she understood she was his prey and had decided not to make it any easier on him. Or she was just that oblivious of what he wanted from her. In any case, Nia was making him work for it.

Suddenly, she noticed his gaze and turned to look at him. She smiled so brightly Astarion was momentarily blinded. Nia waved goodbye to Karlach and made her way towards him.

“There you are,” she said, sitting down next to him outside of his tent.

“Yes, like always. Did you need something?” He pretended to observe his nails, as if he hadn’t been willing her to come the entire evening.

“Actually, yes.” A grin appeared on her face, which only raised suspicion.

“What do you want?” Astarion asked, taken aback by her glee.

Nia didn’t answer. She opened her bag and took out a brown package.

“Here, for you.”

Astarion accepted it, dumbfounded. No one had given him anything since he had been turned into a vampire. Curiosity got the better of him, and he immediately opened the package. Inside he saw new Thieves’ Tools, shining under the setting sun. Well, this was definitely unexpected as his first gift in two centuries.

“I found them today, thought you could give them a better use than I,” she explained, filling in his silence. She was still smiling.

“I’ve seen you try to open locks, darling,” Astarion said, regaining his composure, “you would’ve just wasted these precious tools.”

He couldn’t resist messing with her after her little surprise. His words earned him an adorable pout.

“If you don’t want them, I can give them to someone else.”

“No, these are mine now. You gave them to me. You can’t take them back,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

“Glad you liked them. But that’s not all.”

“What?” He mumbled, surprised once more.

Nia swiftly produced a bow from inside her bag and dropped it on his lap. For the second time in the day, Astarion was rendered speechless. It was a beautiful bow. It had leaves delicately carved onto the wood, which he traced with his fingers. The bow seemed sturdy, and the string was of very high quality. Nia could have received a pretty coin for it, no doubt. But, somehow, she had decided to gift it to him. Not Gale, or Wyll, or Karlach, or Shadowheart or Brunhilde or even Lae’zel. Him. Something shifted inside his chest. It was warm and it twisted around his dead heart. Astarion felt bile in his throat.

“Darling,” he rasped, “it’s… are you sure you don’t want it?”

“This bow suits you more than the one you have,” Nia said, gesturing to the bow in his lap. She was smiling at him in a way that made him want to hate her. “Besides, I’m no good with the bow and arrow.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow at her admission, “But you’re an elf! You should know how to shoot.”

“Gods, you sound like my father,” she said it in jest, but something in her voice betrayed a sadness behind her words. “I’m just better with a sword.” It was true that for some reason she decided to carry a longsword around. Surprising that she even had the strength to use it given her lithe body.

“But a bow and arrow allow you to keep your distance, which is why I seldom get hurt in battle.” He was deflecting, he knew, anything to keep the conversation moving and away from whatever feeling had spread inside of him.

She snorted, “that’s what my magic is for.” Nia raised her arms and wiggled her fingers as in demonstration.

“And what happens when you run out of spells?”

Nia opened her mouth, yet no words came out. She knew he had a point. Astarion had seen the wizard in battle. One of them needed to always watch her back, lest she got incapacitated. It’d happened before, when the battles were longer and so gruesome, she had to use most of her spells. Instead of staying back, she’d go and fight with her sword, which usually resulted in her ending up hurt by the end. That wouldn’t do. Astarion needed Nia alive if she was to protect him.

“Come now,” he said, getting up and grabbing his new bow and his quiver.

“Where?” She asked, scrambling to follow him.

“To the clearing. It’s the perfect place to practice shooting. You’re long overdue an archery lesson.”

Nia walked beside him in silence. Astarion was aware her mind was filled with a thousand questions, although she had decided not to voice any of them out loud. He wouldn’t be able to give her a proper response, even if she were to use the tadpole on him. Truth be told he wasn’t sure what had spurred on this impromptu lesson. He was not much of a teacher. Lacked the patience for it. Yet, he felt like he needed to do it.

They walked until they reached the clearing. They wouldn’t disturb anyone over there. Astarion turned to look at Nia, who stared at him with suspicion.

“Oh, relax, my dear. If I wanted to eat you, I would’ve done so a long time ago.”

“I’m not scared of you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“I don’t know. This seems out of character for you.”

“Oh, darling, you’ll soon realize I’m nothing if not full of surprises,” he said with a dramatic gesture, earning a chuckle from her.

“Alright, I can see you’re excited about this and I’m becoming intrigued. I’ll be your student for the day, Professor Astarion.”

Astarion smiled so wide he showed his fangs. “Excellent, you won’t regret it. So, let’s begin. What do you know about shooting?”

“That I’m terrible at it and I’d rather use a fire bolt,” she answered with a deadpan.

He tutted. “If you want to hunt for your dinner, what will you do with a burnt duck?”

“Eat it crisp. Burning it will save me all the cooking time.”

Astarion flicked his tongue in annoyance. “Come on, darling, take this seriously.”

Nia sighed. “Fine, I’ll humour you. But watch out, I could very easily hurt you.”

“In that case, you’ll just have to nurse me back to health with some of that precious sweet blood of yours.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “What will you have me do?”

“First, take the bow. I want to watch your form.”

Nia did as he asked. She took the bow from his outstretched hand and walked towards a tree. She assumed the shooting position with her back towards him. Astarion looked her over. It was clear she’d had archery lessons before. A given, considering she was a high elf. No elf parent would let their elven child reach adulthood without knowing at least the basics of bows and swords. But her body seemed unsure, as if she hadn’t done this in a long time.

“Your footwork is all wrong,” he noted, more as an observation rather than scolding. “And you’re unbalanced,” he said, flicking her in the arm and causing her to trip.

“See, I’m terrible at this already,” Nia said. She tried to appear unbothered, but Astarion could clearly hear the anxiety in her voice.

“Nonsense. You’re merely starting. How long has it been since you last shot an arrow?”

She thought for a moment. “Since I was sixteen.”

“And how long ago that was?”

“Decades,” she said. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

He chuckled. “That I did. You’re just rusty, my dear. You only need some of my assistance.”

“Of course, Professor Astarion.”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he said as he walked close to her.

“I’d enjoy it a bit more if we were doing something else,” she replied.

She’d left herself open for teasing. It would be oh so easy to mumble double entendres, but he decided against it. He didn’t wish to ruin the moment. “Oh shush, I bet you’re going to become an enthusiast in no time,” Astarion muttered, close to her ears.

Nia’s breath hitched as he delicately touched her shoulders.

“Don’t slouch. Your back needs to be straight,” he said. Nia did not speak. Silently, she did as he told her. “Now, keep your feet shoulder-width apart. Yes. There we go. To avoid tripping, your back foot should be slightly forward.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Great job, darling. How does it feel? Is it comfortable?”

Nia smiled at him. “Yeah, it feels better than before.”

“This should always be your stance. With practice, it shall become natural to you.”

“Is it natural to you?”

“More than breathing,” he replied.

Nia snorted. “That’s because you don’t need to breathe.”

“Well, now you know how natural it is for me. Like second nature.”

She nodded.

She went through the motions a few times until Astarion was satisfied.

“Next, we’ll practice nocking the arrow,” he announced.

“What’s that?”

“You seriously don’t know anything about shooting, do you?” Astarion said with frustration.

Nia shook her head, as she smiled impishly at him. “No. Regretting teaching me already?”

He scoffed. “You’ll find I have the patience of a saint.”

“Sure, you do.”

“As I was saying,” Astarion continued, ignoring her sarcasm, “nocking the arrow means putting the arrow on the bow string.”

“Oh, of course.”

Astarion watched in silence as Nia struggled to nock the arrow. He observed as she put it on all the wrong places and kept aiming everywhere except the target. At one point, the arrow was aimed directly at his crotch.

“Stop, stop,” he said, “before you injure us both.” He took the bow and arrow from her.

Nia blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry,” she said, voice small and fragile, like a scolded child. It made something turn inside him. He was reminded of himself.

Astarion sighed. What in the hells had he gotten into? “Maybe a direct approach will be best. Allow me to demonstrate.” He stood in front of a tree that he decided would be the perfect target. “First, make sure you’re holding and pointing the arrow towards your target. Then, place the nock at the nocking point, which is this marked area on the string.”

“I see,” she said as she watched him.

“When it’s in place, you can draw and anchor the bow. Aim as accurately as possible, and then…” He released the string. The arrow hit its mark as always. He turned around to face Nia, a witty quip dying on his lips as he saw her expression. She looked at him in wonder, cheeks pink under the afternoon sunlight. She even clapped. Astarion felt as if he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. He coughed. “Do you wish to try?”

Nia came closer, her hands shaking. “I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you.”

He preened under her compliment. “It only takes patience, my dear, and a whole lot of practice.”

He had her practicing nocking the arrow on the correct place for a while, until she finally succeeded on the first try. As she practiced, Astarion had noticed someone was spying on them. He bit back a snicker. He’d realized he had some competition in camp for Nia’s attention. No matter. He’d show them he was the better option. It was time to kill two birds with one arrow.

“I believe you’re ready for the next part,” he announced loudly, as much for Nia as for their unexpected spectator.

“Really?” She adorably said, eyes sparkling with innocence.

“Yes, nock the arrow again, darling.” She did as asked. “Yes, right there.” His voice dripped with innuendo, which was more for their unwanted visitor than for Nia. Not that she noticed, so focused was she on her task. He moved to be positioned just behind her. “Now, be a dear and grip the handle. Don’t squeeze it too hard, it’s sensitive. Yes, like that.” Astarion pressed his chest to her back, earning a soft gasp. “Raise the bow until your arm is parallel to the ground and draw the string back.” He gently grabbed her shooting arm and pulled it back. “Now all you need to do is aim and release,” he said in her ear, lips dangerously close to her own. She shuddered.

Nia turned her face around, eyes searching his. “Astarion,” she mumbled. His lips moved closer to hers, arms settling on her hips, pulling her against him. The abrupt motion caused her to move the bow towards the sky, and her shooting hand faltered, releasing the arrow in an instant. It flew into the sky and vanished as it fell into the canopy of trees. Not that Astarion cared, the two of them were lost in each other’s eyes. Just one more inch and then he’d capture her lips with his. Seconds later, they heard a yelp coming from behind the trees. The spell faded away. Nia broke their eye contact.

“What was that?” She asked, pulling away from him. “Oh, shit. I released the arrow too early. I’m so sorry, Astarion. I’ll get you a new one.”

The vampire spawn bit back a groan. “No worries, darling. You’ve just given me a rather elegant bow. I can forgive the loss of one meagre arrow.”

He walked to his quiver and pulled out a new one. “Care to try again?”

Nia nodded eagerly.

They spent what was left of the sunlight shooting more arrows at trees. Despite the interruption, Astarion could admit he was having fun. Nia made for good company, and she was a fast learner. In no time, she was hitting her marks. He felt something akin to pride. It was a foreign emotion, if he was honest. He was used to living with fear, to experiencing anger when he looked at Cazador, feeling disgusted at himself after bedding another victim to take to his master. He may have been conceited, but vanity didn’t make him feel anything positive. This, whatever it was, did. When Nia giggled after finally hitting a target, and her eyes shone with unbridled happiness, Astarion felt like he had a purpose. That he was good at something after all.

“Thank you for teaching me,” she said. “You’re actually a great teacher.”

He pushed the feeling out of his mind as quickly as it came. It wouldn’t do him any good to become sentimental all of a sudden. “I told you all you needed was practice, darling.”

“And an excellent tutor.”

“That too.”

Just as the sun began to set, Astarion made use of his new bow and shot a few ducks for dinner, figuring Nia deserved some sort of prize for indulging his whims today. She was grateful and continued praising him as they made their way back into the camp.

“You’re going to make my ego much bigger, you know?” he said, a true smile gracing his lips.

“I don’t think that’d be any possible,” she shot back with a laugh.

Astarion shook his head at her. Deep down, he was disappointed they hadn’t kissed. He’d been so close. But progress was still progress. There would be more opportunities, he was sure. At least he now knew Nia wouldn’t be opposed to having his lips on hers. He felt that the day was not entirely lost.

“Look what Astarion hunted for us,” Nia announced to their companions.

The rogue raised an eyebrow at them. Karlach and Wyll sat close to the fire, grinning at each other, as if sharing a joke only the two got. Lae’zel stayed back in her tent, frowning more than usual. Brunhilde played with Scratch at the far back. She appeared to be avoiding something. And then, they heard it. A scream coming from Gale’s tent.

“Stop moving,” Shadowheart’s voice grumbled from inside the tent.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? It hurts,” Gale complained, his voice straining in pain.

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t taken a detour in the woods,” the cleric admonished before doing something that caused Gale to yelp.

“What happened?” Nia asked Wyll and Karlach, who renewed their cackling.

“Gale apparently went hunting,” Wyll informed them, “and then─” he continued laughing.

Karlach wiped away tears from her eyes. “He came back with an arrow stuck in his arse.”

Nia choked, probably realizing how Gale had ended up in this situation.

“Pathetic,” they heard Lae’zel muttered, as yet another scream and cursing came from inside the tent.

Astarion joined in their laughter, mirth in his eyes.

Today was better than expected. He’d gotten gifts for the first time in his immortal life, he’d gotten closer to Nia furthering his plans, and that idiot Gale had gotten hurt to boot. Oh, his life was finally turning around. How he enjoyed being free. He didn’t want these days to ever end. He’d do anything in his power to keep this newfound freedom of his, he realised.

He looked at Nia.

Yes, anything.

Chapter Text

Nothing in his life could ever be easy, it was a truth Astarion had quickly learnt upon becoming a vampire. The tadpole situation had made him forget for a brief time. But just as his life was turning around, he was reminded he wasn’t free. Not truly. Cazador was looking for him, had been sending Gur, of all people, after him. Well, he thought looking at the corpse, now there’s one less Gur in the world, the damned bastards. He then turned to Nia, who had grown pale. She hadn’t wanted to kill the man; she never did want to kill any of their humanoid enemies. They hadn’t had much choice on the matter, though. The Gur had found out what he was and although Nia had attempted to convince him to let Astarion go, it hadn’t worked out. It was kill or be killed, something Nia needed to learn soon.

Brunhilde and Lae’zel had made themselves scarce after the battle had finished, the two searching the man’s bags. Perhaps this monster hunter carried valuable items with him. Not that Astarion felt like looting. His mood was soured. He tried to control his shaking, but it was futile. He just wanted to go. Return to camp, lick his wounds, and plan what to do next. Their day wasn’t supposed to go this way. They were meant to find Auntie Ethel and discover what she knew about the worms in their heads. Perhaps buy from her a potion or two. That damned Gur had put a wrench on their plans. Astarion cursed him and glared at the corpse. At least he wouldn’t be able to hurt him now. He glanced at Nia then, who knelt and closed the man’s eyes, the last act of kindness the monster hunter would ever know.

“Thank you,” he whispered. The words flowed from him unbidden before he could stop them. A myriad of emotions swirled inside him, each one more upsetting than the last.

“What for?” Nia asked, standing back up. Her voice came out in a rasp, eyes glassy. She’d given the Gur the killing blow and was still clearly reeling about it.

“You could’ve given me to him. You didn’t need to hurt him. So, thank you, for protecting me.” He was still surprised. He wondered about her. How she had fed him, instead of killing him. How she had chosen to kill the monster hunter, even when she hated murder. Time and time again, she chose the hardest path. For him. It made no sense. It frightened him. More than Cazador even. Surely there was something she wanted in return for her help. No one could be that selfless.

“I would’ve never given you up to him,” she said with conviction, her fists clenching. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He blinked, surprise overcoming his features for a moment.

Friends.

Astarion had never had any friends. The other vampire spawn were his brothers and sisters, yes, but theirs was a relationship forged in blood. Out of necessity. Easily breakable if one were to betray their master. The idea of caring about anyone other than himself was alien to him. And this companionship was formed by chance. By the sheer coincidence of all of them having been kidnapped and taken to that ship. Once the parasites were removed, all of them would go their merry way. Perhaps, they would become enemies. Or, most likely, they would all forget about each other. Yet, here was Nia, innocently believing they were friends. It infuriated him.

“I suppose we are,” he answered instead, biting his tongue. It wouldn’t do to offend her now. To burst her bubble about the nature of their relationship. He just wanted to use her. Was on his way to seducing her to further his goals. She probably wanted to use him too in some way. He suddenly felt nauseous.

Nia looked at him with all knowing eyes. He felt scrutinized under her gaze. It was like she knew all his terrible, dark secrets. He waited for the strike of her palm, for her sword to impale him. The blow never came. She smiled instead, a weary sort of smile, and nodded.

“Let’s return to camp. Auntie Ethel will have to wait another day.”

Astarion could have kissed her feet. It was as if she’d read his mind. He couldn’t bear to be there any longer. It was taking every bit of his self-control to stop himself from running away.

“We came all this way just to go back?” Lae’zel complained, snarling at Nia. Astarion frowned.

It was no secret in camp that the githyanki barely tolerated their leader. Unlike him, she always made it known she disapproved of Nia’s acts of mercy. Lae’zel disapproved of everyone, really. But it had offended her the entire group had chosen Nia instead of her. Such grievances hadn’t been forgiven nor forgotten. Not that Astarion cared. He just wanted to leave and Lae’zel was making things difficult. He glared at her, but the gith ignored him.

“We’re hurt and tired, and there’s still a long way to go,” Nia said. Her voice turned harsh, showing her patience was running thin.

“I mean, if you want to keep going, be my guest.” He decided to interject. He didn’t want to be stuck in the woods any longer, where more Gur could be waiting for him. “I’m sure you and Brunhilde will have a nice time out here with all these beasts.”

“Let’s just go back, like Nia suggested,” the half-orc intervened before things got ugly. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Tas’ki. Fine,” Lae’zel spat and started stomping back to camp.

Nia sighed but then gave him a grateful smile. “Shall we?”

“Let’s go.”

“Could you please stand farther back, you’re covering all the sunlight,” Astarion grumbled from his stool outside his tent.

Shadowheart groaned. “I just came to see if you were hurt after your little encounter with the Gur.”

“I’m not. I’m too fast to get hurt. Now go away, I’m reading.” Astarion shooed the cleric away with a hand motion.

“Fine. But if you need healing, go annoy someone else,” Shadowheart replied, offended by the vampire. She then walked towards Nia’s tent. “Don’t even bother with him tonight. He’s in a foul mood.”

Yes, Nia had noticed.

It was fair to say that Astarion was brooding.

In the few days she had known him, Nia had realized Astarion’s humour was as variable as the weather. He could be having a grand time and just as easily he could turn spiteful. She could hear the acidity in his jabs, even when the words themselves were supposed to be flirtatious. He despised their company, and yet he sought it. His changes in disposition annoyed the rest of their companions to no end. Shadowheart particularly had little patience for him. Nia, however, felt a strange sense of kinship towards him. Behind the false smiles and saccharine words filled with poison, the true Astarion hid, protected and safe from the rest of the world. She too had carefully built walls around herself. Never letting anyone close enough to know her. To hurt her. Perhaps he was the same. Perhaps flirting was the only way Astarion knew how to express himself, just as she delighted in helping others. He'd lived a miserable existence, he’d told her. Trapped in Cazador Szarr’s lair, forced to bring victims to his master, suffering the consequences of his cruelty, consuming the blood of rats and other vermin. He had starved for nearly two hundred years. Her heart filled with compassion just thinking about it. Although he hid behind compliments and lies, every once in a while, he let the truth slip. His mask had fallen today.

Nia was aware their encounter with the Gur had agitated him. It had shaken her too. Knowing that Astarion’s old master wasn’t a faraway threat frightened her. If what the vampire spawn had told her was true, Cazador Szarr would do anything in his power to get his slave back. And, according to Astarion, his powers had very few limitations. Nia trembled at the thought. If she was feeling like this, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like for him. Resolute, she devised a plan to make him feel better.

“Could I borrow your bow and a few arrows?” She asked Brunhilde, who was cleaning up from their previous fight.

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know how to use them? I’ve never seen you shoot.”

“I’ve been learning,” she said, more sheepishly than she had intended.

“I see,” Brunhilde said, her gaze lingering on her neck where the bite mark was still visible. “Why do you need them for?”

“Hunting,” she merely answered. She tried to seem nonchalant about it, but she realized the half-orc had read her intentions, as her eyes narrowed towards Astarion’s tent.

“Well, happy hunting. Let me know if you need any help,” was all Brunhilde said, giving her the bow.

Nia felt her cheeks burn. She wanted to explain herself, to make it clear this was a friendly gesture, and not whatever Brunhilde was thinking of. Nevertheless, she decided against it when her friend gave her an earnest smile. She took the bow, gave her a quick thank you, and took off.

The woods were filled with the sounds of birds and other critters chirping about. It was calming. Nia was a city girl and though she’d had some missions in the forest, she wasn’t accustomed to roughing it in the great outdoors. Hunting, until a few days ago, was a mystery to her. Oh, her father had attempted to teach her several times when she was a child. He was a remarkable marksman. Quite adept with the sword too. And an incredible wizard. Everything a high elf should be. Nia, on the contrary, had her head up in the clouds most of the time. Her fancies shifted with every change of season and, back then at least, she couldn’t have cared less about studies of any kind. She’d been a terrible student. A constant headache for her parents. It was a miracle she’d turned into a scholar and had learnt how to wield a sword.

“How are you going to hunt if you don’t learn how to shoot?” Her father had asked her one day she’d ditched her shooting lessons to play.

“I won’t ever need to,” she’d declared with petulance, earning a severe scolding from her father after that. She had believed it’d always be like that. That she’d never need to fend for herself. She’d had no intention of living outside Baldur’s Gate. She’d imagined herself as a noble man’s wife with servants at her beck and call, while she was free to follow her fancies, whatever they might be. If only her father could see her now, he’d die laughing at his rebellious daughter going around the woods, trying to hunt rabbits or whatever else she could find to feed a sulky vampire.

Nia knew she was being ridiculous. If she wanted to feed him, it would be easier to offer Astarion her neck. Something told her, though, that the man didn’t want any company at all. Not even hers and her “delectable blood,” as he’d called it. She didn’t wish to offend him or cross him. So, here she was, struggling to find an animal to kill. A boar or a deer would be too difficult to hunt given her current skills. She didn’t know if she’d be fast enough for a rabbit or duck. There were not many animals she could hunt. Nor many she could see. Perhaps she should’ve brought Scratch along. He was a better hunter. But she didn’t want any of the blood to go to waste. No. She would have to make do with what she had.

After much walking, Nia finally found a rabbit. It sniffed the air and barely hopped about, munching on plants. Perfect. As quietly as possible, she adopted the stance Astarion had taught her and fired an arrow. The rabbit was faster and ran out of the way. “Fuck,” she cursed. Picking up the fallen arrow, she carried on until she found many more rabbits. More arrows were shot. None hit their mark, except one, which impaled a cute rabbit with honey-like fur. Nia’s tender heart twisted inside her. She had to remind herself it was for a good cause. For her friend. She picked up the body gently and looked thoroughly at it. She broke the arrow to keep as much blood inside as possible. Then, she wrapped it with a cloth she’d brought before putting it inside her bag. It wasn’t much. Perhaps she could find another one. The elf snatched up the rest of the arrows and kept walking. She kept trying to shoot at any critter she saw, but she failed at every turn.

“That’s it,” she muttered, fed up with her own incompetence at something that should be second nature to her kind. No matter. She was a wizard, so she would act like one. She conjured her Mage Hand when she found more rabbits and used it to grab one, a grey one. The hand broke its neck and delivered the prey straight to her. She carried the slumped down body of the rabbit and checked it, confirming it was indeed dead, and no blood had been dropped. “This will have to suffice,” she declared. She wrapped it with a second cloth and put it with the other one.

When she was satisfied with her hunting, the sun had almost completely set. If she’d been a human, returning to camp would’ve been nearly impossible. It was good, then, her elven vision facilitated her trek back. As she walked towards camp, her hands felt clammy, and her heart pounded against her ribcage. She suddenly felt foolish. Would Astarion even care or appreciate her actions? Hard to know with how difficult the man could be. He never made things easier for her. Nia had to question why she even went to such lengths for him. Hunting rabbits for him was one thing, but giving him her blood? Killing for him? She’d never been that unselfish, never mind what her companions thought of her. She just did not understand her own actions. She was far away from her element, from her books and scrolls and quills and candles. Far from the bustling city and its commodities. Fighting for her life almost daily, accompanied by a ragtag team of misfits who had more secrets and trauma than anyone Nia had ever met in her life. Why did she care? She’d never cared this much about anyone since… better not go there. Not tonight.

She sighed in relief once the camp came into view. All was normal. Gale was cooking dinner while Wyll cut the vegetables. Karlach started a fire and began retelling her adventures in Avernus to an engaged Shadowheart, who was busy making more potions for them. Lae’zel sat close to the fire, polishing her armour in the company of Brunhilde, who was making more arrows for herself. Scratch barked excitedly once he saw her, wagging his tail and heading towards her for a pet. They were all there. All except one.

“How did it go?” Brunhilde was the first to ask her.

“Worse than expected,” was her sincere reply. Her friend gave her a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll get better with practice.”

Nia nodded half-heartedly and let her eyes fall on the vampire’s tent, which was closed. “Thank you for the bow. I had to break an arrow, lost a few others. I’ll get you more, I promise.”

Brunhilde took the arrows and bow in her hands. “No worries. I’d thought this could happen, so I’m making more.”

Lae’zel snorted. “She had little faith in you,” she said, never looking up as she continued to polish her armour.

The half-orc glared at her and then looked at Nia apologetically. “What I meant to say is that when you hunt is perfectly normal to lose arrows.”

“Right,” Nia said, eyes straying once more to the tent. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I need to do.”

“But don’t be late, dinner is almost ready,” Gale said, interjecting for the first time.

“I promise to be back,” she said, and waving, she left towards Astarion’s tent.

Her pointed ears prickled as she managed to hear their whispering from behind her.

“Do you think he’ll even let her inside the tent?” It was Shadowheart. She sounded worried.

“For a nibble of her neck, he might,” Wyll replied with a chuckle.

Gale sighed. “As long as blood’s the only thing he takes.”

Karlach laughed. “What? Are you jealous, Gale?”

“Of Astarion? Never.”

“Sure.”

“Still, Nia looked serious, and you know how Astarion is.” That was Shadowheart again.

“Prickly?” Karlach suggested.

“Moody?” That was Wyll again.

“A complete jerk?” Gale added.

“I was going to say closed off, but all those work.”

Lae’zel snorted again. “You worry too much about that pair of elves. They’ll figure it out. Perchance in a bloody battle where they’ll fight each other to the bitter end. My coin is on Astarion.”

“Alright, enough speculation,” Brunhilde said. “Let’s let them be. I don’t think Astarion would ever hurt her. Not intentionally at least.”

“If you’re sure,” Shadowheart answered.

Nia tuned them out. She didn’t appreciate them gossiping about her actions. It wasn’t like she was doing anything salacious. She was just bringing dinner to a friend. That was it. And she wasn’t that frail either. She could take whatever harsh words Astarion threw her way. He was never that mean to her. Sarcastic? Yes. But not malicious. There was nothing she needed to worry about. Except, maybe the vampire chucking the rabbits at her. She could deal with that.

She stood outside his tent, realizing it’d be tough to ask for permission when it was impossible to knock on the non-existent door. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Astarion? May I come in?”

There was some shuffling inside. Silence. Then a sigh. “What do you want?” The words came with less bite than she’d expected.

“I want to give you something.”

That was enough of a hook for him. There was more shifting from inside, and then Astarion pried the tent open. “What is it?”

“Can we do this in private?” Nia said, motioning with her head to their eavesdropping companions.

Astarion rolled his eyes. “I suppose you may come in if you must.”

Huh. That was new. She had figured he’d resort to more flirting. She’d left that door open with her wording, unintentionally as it were. Well, maybe they could have an honest conversation for a change.

She followed him inside, the tent smelling of bergamot, rosemary and a bit of brandy. Just like he did. It was… comforting. She sat on the floor while Astarion went back to his mountain of pillows. He was quiet. He looked bored, though she could tell that was just a front. He seemed unsure of her. Of what she wanted.

“So, why are you here?” He said after a few moments of silence, picking at his nails. “Have you come to collect your reward for killing the Gur? For sharing your blood?” His voice was laced with venom as he gestured towards his body, his intended meaning becoming clear to her. “Or for both?” He sneered.

“What?” She blurted out. “No!” Nia felt horrified. Had this been his life before the tadpoles? She knew Cazador tortured him. Made him bring victims to him. In her mind, she had imagined beatings and other horrible things done to Astarion’s body. She hadn’t thought his mistreatment would have been sexual in nature as well. “I’d never do that!” She hastily added when she noticed he was unconvinced.

“Then why are you here?”

He was still guarded, she could tell. It broke her heart.

“I came to give you these,” she said, opening her bag and putting the wrapped packages on his lap.

“What’s this?” He asked, even though he should have been able to smell the rabbits inside.

“Dinner,” she claimed with a small smile. He raised a singular eyebrow. How he managed to have such groomed eyebrows when he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror was beyond her. “Look, I know the events of the day disturbed you. I get it because I’m still shaken too. You must be hungry. I know I am. And I don’t think you’re in the mood to hunt or be in close proximity to me, but you need to eat. So, this is the best next thing.”

Astarion listened in silence and then, carefully, opened the packages. Nia had no doubt he could tell she had clumsily shot one and broken the other’s neck. He picked one up. The grey one, which was more robust. He gave it a sniff. He seemed to consider his words until he finally spoke.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, “after all that happened today, you went out to the woods and hunted these, for me?”

She nodded. “That’s what friends are for.”

He scoffed. “Funny thing you are. Being friendly to a vampire.”

“Well, you’ve been friendly to me too,” Nia half-muttered, discouraged. “You ask me about myself, taught me how to shoot arrows, you have my back in battles…” She hated how weak her words sounded. How desperate she was of his approval.

“Has the thought ever crossed your mind I might be doing all this for my own benefit?” He said, ironic, voice rough.

Nia flinched at the sound. She had thought about it once or twice after giving him her blood. That his momentary kindness was but a ruse. It didn’t do her any good to keep contemplating such a thing, however. Not when they needed each other to survive. She squared her shoulders and looked at Astarion straight in the eyes.

“Yes. Perhaps you’re just using me for my blood or for something else. Maybe it’s convenient for you to have me close. I may be naïve, but I know this, Astarion, you could’ve killed me, us, at any point in our journey and you haven’t done so. It might be because it’s the best course of action, true. We’re all here because it’s beneficial, not because we like each other. Even so, you’ve confided in me when you didn’t need to. You’ve told me things you haven’t told anyone else in camp. You haven’t said anything to Brunhilde and she’s much stronger than I am. Gale might be a better wizard than me. And Wyll is a literal folktale hero. Whatever it is that you want, they’d be better for it. Then why me? Because, like it or not, you trust me. And trust, Astarion, is the foundation of friendship, more than being agreeable to one another.”

Nia finished her little speech and observed her companion with apprehension. Astarion regarded her with tense eyes. He seemed to mull over her words. Then, he looked down at his lap and stared at the rabbits’ dead eyes. His gaze went back to hers. He gave her a small smile, his normal mask back in place.

“Forgive me, darling,” he said, “I’ve just been on edge after the Gur. That’s… how I died.”

Nia gasped.

“What do you mean?” She hadn’t expected this turn of events.

He sighed. “A band of thugs attacked me, angry about a ruling that I’d handed down as magistrate,” he explained. “They beat me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer. It was only afterwards I realised just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

Nia covered her mouth in horror at his story. Her heart broke into a million pieces. She felt the compulsion to hold him, but she stopped herself. “I’m so sorry, Astarion. You didn’t deserve it.”

He waved her off. “Well, now you can surely understand why I’m not fully myself tonight.” She nodded. “I… I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but for as long as I can remember, everyone has wanted something from me. I’m not used to friendliness, not your kind of friendliness at least. I’ve never had any friends. Not ones I can recall anyway. And you, being all sweet and selfless…” He trailed off. “I guess it's hard for me to believe you when you say you don’t have ulterior motives. But you’re right. I do trust you. As foolish as it is, mind you.”

Nia chuckled, feeling relieved.  “For the record, I trust you too.”

“That’s a terrible idea, dear. You’re even more foolish than me.”

“Then we can both be foolish together.”

Astarion laughed. “I suppose we can.”

“Friends?” Nia asked, stretching her hand towards him.

“I guess you’re my favourite travelling companion after all, so that must make us friends,” Astarion replied and shook her hand.

Nia smiled. “Great. Then, I’ll leave you to enjoy your dinner,” she said, gesturing to the rabbits. “Oh, and before I forget, here, take this.” She took a healing potion from her bag and put it in his hand.

“What’s this for?”

“Despite what you told Shadowheart, I know you’re hurt. It might be a nick but better be safe than sorry.”

“Darling, if you keep at it, you’re going to spoil me.” Astarion’s words betrayed honesty. He was in awe. The mask had slipped, if only for a minute.

“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, not wanting to ruin the moment with her sentimentality.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She stood to leave. Her hands reached the entrance, but she went still. “Oh, and Astarion?” He turned to look at her. “I know you’re scared. I’d be terrified in your place. But know this. I won’t let him take you. We’ll find a way to free you from your old master. This time for good.”

Astarion sighed and gave her a bittersweet smile. “I hope you’re right, dear.”

She licked her lips, throat suddenly dry. “And if more monster hunters come our way, we’ll get rid of them. I won’t let them touch you.”

She didn’t spell the true meaning of her words. She didn’t have to. She knew Astarion got what she meant.

“Right,” he whispered. With that, Nia nodded once and left his tent.

She shook thinking about facing Cazador. Her fears, however, didn’t matter, she decided. She wouldn’t let anyone take Astarion. She hadn’t lied when she said they were friends. Alright, maybe it was wistful thinking on her part, but she did think of him, all of them in the group, as her friends. Yes, even Lae’zel with all her grumbling. They were the only ones who knew what it was like to have a worm squirming inside your head, after all. Nia wasn’t used to having friends, or being around people in general, but by Mystra, she’d keep them safe. They had put their trust in her and she’d show them she wouldn’t let them down. If they wanted her to be the hero, she’d play the part to perfection. She twirled her bead necklace on her fingers. That’s what he would’ve done.

Astarion watched in silence as Nia left his tent. He heard her as she approached the rest by the campfire. They greeted her with enthusiasm and invited her to dinner. “Before it becomes colder,” Gale said. He heard them laughing and exchanging stories. Heard the beating of all their hearts as they ate in peace. He, then, looked at the rabbits Nia had graciously hunted for him. They were cold now. She had managed to avoid spilling any of their blood. His stomach growled; he was famished. He always was. He took one, the one with an arrow stuck on it, and admired her handiwork. She’d be a good shooter in no time. A sense of pride overcame him before he could push it down. Trying to ignore these strange feelings, he bit down and felt the animal’s blood fill his mouth. It wasn’t as horrid as a rat, but not nearly as decadent as Nia’s sweet blood.

As he drank, his thoughts swirled inside. He had given Nia an out. He had all but spelt out his plans to her. She had chosen not to heed his words. She was begging him to continue, it felt like. Or it could be that she was cleverer than he gave her credit for and had given her consent. Do it, Astarion. See if you can get me. Oh. He will get her, he thought. He will take her and ruin her for everybody else. Have her entirely at his mercy, begging for him. Doing everything he asks for. Protecting him. And once he’s irrevocably free from his chains… Well, that time was still very far away. He’d probably discard her once she wasn’t useful any longer.

The rabbit’s blood suddenly turned to ashes in his mouth.

But… she was right about one thing.

He did trust her. More than he trusted himself and his impulses.

In another life, they might have been real friends.

In this one, though, she was nothing but his prey.

He bit the second rabbit with more force than necessary and spilt blood all over himself.

Chapter Text

Meeting up with Auntie Ethel would have to wait, Nia had decided. They had used potions and wasted resources on the fight against Gandrel, among other things. They were tired and needed their rest, she’d said. She’d declared, then, a day off while she went to the Emerald Grove for more provisions. Karlach and Wyll had volunteered to go with her and Brunhilde, saying something about assessing the tense situation in the grove. Astarion, for once, was grateful for the respite Nia’s absence would offer. He didn’t want to think about his plans while he still felt tender after his encounter with the Gur. She seemed to understand. She didn’t press for his company and went with the other three, leaving him to laze around in his tent.

Things in camp were as always. Gale talked Shadowheart’s ear off about different spells, while the cleric practiced her own cantrips. Lae’zel remained away from them, in her own tent, sharpening her sword. As for Astarion, he picked up a new book from Nia’s tent and brought it to his own. She’d told him once he could borrow any books he wished, and he’d figured today would a great day to take her up on her offer. This one was a romance novel. His eyes sparkled when he saw it. He hadn’t pegged Nia as someone who’d read that sort of thing. He smirked to himself, thinking he had found one of her salacious readings. Perhaps this one would tell him what kind of thing she enjoyed in the bedroom. With glee, he closed the flaps from his tent and flopped on his pillows. He opened the book, ready to witness all the filth the little elf read in secret, only to gag at how saccharine it was. It was the story of a poor maiden trapped in a tower, and the dashing hero who’d come to her rescue. Sentimental garbage. Did Nia like this sort of thing? He wondered with disappointment as the protagonist swooned from the hero’s antics. It was all so performative, even for his standards. He started flipping through the pages out of sheer boredom. He snorted when the hero waxed poetic about the beauty of the protagonist. “I could do better,” he muttered to himself.

As he read on, however, he became more invested in the plot. It was a slow burn. Despite their glaring desire and feelings for each other, the characters hadn’t even held hands, preferring to pine after one another from a distance. “Blithering fools,” he said, “it’s so obvious they love each other.” They were about to hold hands for the first time ever, when someone barged into his tent, disturbing his reading. Oh, Astarion could’ve murdered whoever had dared to interrupt him, but he stopped his cursing when he saw Nia. She was pale and shaking.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” He felt more concerned than he should, as he observed her trembling lips.

“I need your help,” she answered. “It’s Brunhilde.”

He followed her out of the tent, his curiosity piqued. Outside Karlach paced, panic evident in her face.

“What in the hells is going on?” He asked them.

“Brunhilde is in jail!” Karlach explained, attracting the attention of the rest of their companions, who soon joined them outside his tent.

“What?” Lae’zel blurted out. “What did you say?” She said, stomping over until she was face to face with the barbarian.

“We don’t know how it happened,” Karlach began explaining. “Me and the soldier were talking to Dammon, he’s this sweet blacksmith who believes he can help me with my problem. He was so pleasant and kind, he gave me hope there’s a solution…” The tiefling rambled on, eyes getting a dreamy look to them. Astarion tuned her out, not knowing what the blacksmith had to do with anything.

“Out with it,” Lae’zel interrupted. “What happened to Brunhilde?” She asked, enunciating each word pointedly.

“After trading with Dammon, Wyll told us he saw some of the tieflings taking Brunhilde to a makeshift prison. They claimed she’d been caught stealing things from a dead goblin,” Nia explained.

“That’s preposterous,” Lae’zel said. “Brunhilde would never be caught stealing.”

“I tried talking to them, but they don’t want to free her. Wyll stayed behind to see who he could talk to, to get her out. But at this point, I don’t think talking is an option.”

Astarion was surprised to hear her say that. Nia always tried to take the peaceful approach first and charm her way out of situations. Not that it worked most of the time, but historically, that was always her modus operandi.

“Then what do you suggest?” Shadowheart asked, crossing her arms.

“We need to break her out of prison.”

 “You know,” Astarion said as he and Nia made their way to the Emerald Grove, “I’m surprised.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “About what?”

“I never took you for a person who’d help another one out of prison, no matter how close they were to you,” he explained. “After all, that’s not very lawful of you.”

The wizard rolled her eyes. “I don’t follow all laws blindly, Astarion,” she said. “Especially not arbitrary ones. I believe in a fair system of trials.”

“Still, what you’re planning to do is risky, even for you,” he commented.

“And what do you expect me to do? Leave Brunhilde behind?”

“Oh no, dear. I’m positively delighted that we’re embarking on this journey and that you’ve chosen me to be your partner in crime,” he replied as he laughed. He was having fun already and they hadn’t broken any rules yet.

“You’re the best one at getting out of tricky places after all,” she said. “It helps you have no qualms about doing this.”

Astarion preened under her compliments. “Oh, I’d never say no to you, darling. Much less when you asked me so nicely,” he drawled.

“Don’t get used to it,” she said, but her grin betrayed her words.

“We’ll see.” He grinned right back at her.

Soon, they found themselves in the grove. It was luscious and a reprieve from the woods. Astarion would have liked to come more often if not for all the people who wanted to talk to him. Having conversations was more Nia’s forte. He much rather preferred to read than talk about the weather or other inconsequential things. He also didn’t like how those tieflings and druids looked at him. He stayed close to his companion whenever they went, letting her do all the talking. Sure enough, as soon as they stepped inside, they were bombarded with hellos and offers to trade. Nia smiled politely at all of them, as she guided Astarion to the makeshift prison. He ducked his head, ignoring the traders, the children and the other inhabitants. They made him feel uneasy. Thankfully, they were quick to reach the prison. Wyll was already waiting for them outside.

“I’ve no luck talking to them. The druids don’t want to interfere, and the tiefling guard won’t hear a word I say,” the warlock explained upon greeting them. He sounded frustrated. The man was charming enough that he could have handled this situation. Alas, fortune was not on their side, it would seem.

“So, nothing’s changed,” Nia replied. She rubbed her forehead, stressed. Despite her earlier words, she was holding out hope Wyll would change their minds.

“I’m afraid not.”

“And what exactly did Brunhilde steal?” Astarion asked, intrigued. “Was it worth it?” There must have been good reason why the half-orc had been imprisoned.

“That’s the worst part,” Wyll said. “From what I’ve gathered, she didn’t even manage to steal anything. It doesn’t sound like she wanted to steal either. A tiefling killed a goblin, and Brunhilde was found looking over the body. A couple of children accused her of stealing, and well, it’s very frowned upon in here, so…” he trailed off.

“Oh no,” Nia suddenly exclaimed. “I know what this is about,” she said.

“Well, go on, darling. Don’t leave us in the dark.”

“Brunhilde and I met some of the children earlier while we were buying provisions. One of them pickpocketed a few of my coins. I caught him but let him be. I guess I felt sorry for him. He later tried the same trick on Brunhilde, and well, she harshly scolded him and took back our coins, gaining the ire of the rest. I take it this is their revenge.”

Astarion huffed. All this trouble for some stupid child? Though he couldn’t fault Brunhilde. He would have scolded him too. For getting noticed, that is. What kind of rogue gets caught? 

“Okay, now that we have the context, what are we going to about our ‘little situation’?” He asked, making air quotes as he gestured.

“You will lockpick the cell and we’ll run out of here as fast as we can,” Nia said. “If that fails, we need to find the key to the cell and break her out.”

“Wait,” Wyll said. “That’s what we’re going to do?”

Nia looked at him as if he were stupid. “Well, yes. Why else would I have brought Astarion here?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t include me in this, that’s a terrible idea. We shouldn’t cause more trouble for the refugees. They’re struggling as is.”

“Then go,” a new voice said from the shadows. Lae’zel stepped out. Astarion had been wondering when she would make her appearance known. The githyanki warrior had been trailing after them since they left camp. “I’ll take over.”

“Lae’zel?” Nia exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew our ‘hero’ here wouldn’t have what it takes for this mission, so I came to help.” Wyll glared at her, seemingly offended by the githyanki’s word choice. Not that Astarion disagreed. As valiant as Wyll was, he tended to follow rules more strictly than the rest. Hells, it had taken Nia intervening for him to realise Karlach wasn’t the devil he believed she was. If it hadn’t been for their leader, the poor tiefling would be dead now.

“Right,” Nia answered. She seemed wary of Lae’zel still. The githyanki kept on disagreeing with her every choice. Except for this one.

“Lead the way,” Lae’zel said, pointing towards the general direction of the prison.

“Then, I’ll see you all back in camp.” Sensing the tension, Wyll said and dashed away, leaving the four behind.

“You know, for someone with the monicker of Blade of Frontiers, he isn’t very brave, is he?” Astarion said, making Nia roll her eyes.

“He’s a coward,” Lae’zel said and then spat on the floor. “Even Nia’s willing to break the law.” The elf’s name sounded like an insult coming from her lips.

Nia sighed.

“Regretting gathering us here already?” He joked, nudging her with his elbow.

“Not yet. Now here’s the plan.”

“Remind me why are you here again?” Astarion muttered as he and Lae’zel hid in the shadows. Nia was distracting the guard, asking questions and batting her eyelashes at him. He almost felt proud. Almost. What he didn’t understand was why Lae’zel needed to come with all her clanky armour.

“If need be, I can smash the cell open. You’re too weak to do it.”

He scoffed. “I’m sorry, I’m a vampire. I’m not weak. I’m just nimble. I’m a rogue, remember?”

“Whatever. Just start moving.”

Astarion cursed Nia in his mind. It would’ve been easier if he’d gone by himself. But no. For whatever reason, Lae’zel wanted to play hero, and their leader had allowed it. He sneaked past Nia and the guard, keeping his grumbles to himself. Behind him, Lae’zel followed, surprisingly quiet for the armour she wore. Once inside, they found no sentinels keeping guard; that was what Nia had been counting on. Brunhilde stood there, holding the cell bars in her hands.

“Well, who do we have here,” he said as a way of greeting.

“Astarion? Lae’zel?” The half-orc said, shock written on her face. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” He spoke as he reached the door.

“We’re breaking you out,” Lae’zel added.

“Nia brought us,” Astarion said as he crouched.

Brunhilde’s eyes softened. Then, she frowned. “I don’t know what this cell’s made of, but it won’t budge. I’ve been trying to pry it open since they put me here.”

“Leave it to the expert.”

Astarion pulled out a lockpick and made quick work with it. As charming as Nia was, she wouldn’t be able to keep the guard occupied for long. Using Sleight of Hand, he focused on moving the lockpick, turning it, attempting to find the correct combination. And… nothing. It didn’t open. His lockpick broke.

“Shit,” he cursed. He grabbed another one and did something different. It didn’t work. “What’s wrong with this door?”

“Step out of the way,” Lae’zel said. She took out a maze and began swinging it.

“Wait,” Brunhilde said. It was too late, however. Lae’zel hit the door with it and the metal bars rattled loudly, echoing in the chamber. Astarion had no doubts the whole grove had heard it. To make matters worse, the door did not break.

“Hells,” Astarion whispered before they were surrounded by guards.

 “Let me get this straight, you thought it’d be a good idea to attempt to break out your companion from the cell,” Zevlor said. The guards had brought them to him, asking where they could hold them, given the fact their only cell was currently occupied. The tiefling leader had pinched his nose and rubbed his head. He’d asked the guards to leave them with him for some questioning.

“I asked and got no information on when they’d release Brunhilde,” Nia said, with as much assertiveness as she could muster. Which wasn’t a lot, but it was a start. “As far as I know, she never even got to steal anything. And I wasn’t informed if she was going to receive any due process. A most concerning issue, don’t you think? Particularly after we promised to help you.” Zevlor, to his credit, did look guilty after all that. “You can see why I had to resort to such measures.”

“I am sorry,” he replied. “As you can see, tensions have been running a little high here. Of course, we’re not going to keep your companion here forever.”

“Then when are you going to release her?” Lae’zel demanded.

“Soon, soon. I promise.”

“And us? Are you to incarcerate us as well?” Astarion asked, glaring at the tiefling.

“I’ll turn a blind eye to this given the fact you were unsuccessful.”

The assertion stung more than it should have.

Nia sighed. “I understand that you have your rules, but we do need Brunhilde if we’re to help you. I’m sorry that it had to come to this.”

“I’ll release her tomorrow, I promise,” Zevlor said.

“She better be back at camp by breakfast,” Nia warned him and then left for the exit, her companions one step behind.

“Talk about a bust, am I right?” Astarion said once they were outside, trying to lighten the mood.

“Chk. You were too soft on that tiefling,” Lae’zel complained, glaring at Nia. “I should’ve hit him until he released her.”

“Violence doesn’t solve everything, Lae’zel.”

“Sure, it does.”

“What I don’t understand is how you two failed at opening that door,” Nia wondered out loud.

“Don’t get me started on that lock,” Astarion said. “What is it even made of? It wouldn’t open.”

“The door didn’t even move when I hit it with all my strength,” Lae’zel added. “Perhaps it was fortified with magic.”

“In that case, it would’ve been helpful if a certain wizard had inspected the damned door,” Astarion said wryly.

Nia flinched. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be of any use. I’m weak, remember?”

“You said it, not me,” Lae’zel replied.

“Ah, what’s done is done. Sweet, dear Brunhilde will have to wait until the morrow,” Astarion said, easing the mood.

They finally left the grove, and, to their surprise, they found Brunhilde waiting outside alongside Wyll.

“Oh, there you are,” she said as if she hadn’t been stuck in jail a few minutes before.

“Brunhilde,” Nia greeted her. “How are you outside? And Wyll, when did you come back?”

“And most importantly, how did you break that door?” Astarion asked, feeling self-conscious in the face of his own failure.

“I didn’t,” Brunhilde said matter-of-factly. “I exited from the other side.”

“What?”

The three stared at her in disbelief.

“I broke the wall and then jumped towards the cliffs. I climbed them to the other side and sneaked out of there,” Brunhilde explained.

“A magnificent show of prowess,” Lae’zel recovered first, praising their companion.

Brunhilde scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. “It was nothing. I noticed the hole on the wooden wall after you were gone. I was sure you were going to be taken as prisoners, so I was bidding my time. I’m glad you weren’t though. And then, as I walked around, I accidentally set off a trap. That’s when Wyll came to my aid.”

Wyll smiled. “I felt bad after I left you, and when I returned, I heard all of you’d been taken prisoners. I figured I would help Brunhilde in your stead. But when I went to the prison, she wasn’t in her cell anymore. I heard the explosion and climbed down the cliff to where she was. We sprinted out of there as fast as we could.”

“My hero,” Brunhilde said in jest, slapping Wyll’s back.

Next to Astarion, Lae’zel growled. He briefly wondered what that was about.

“We were reconvening here, planning how to get you three out,” Brunhilde kept explaining. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Zevlor let us go and promised to release you tomorrow,” Nia said. “So, we must go to camp now and I’ll think of something to apologise.”

“You do know I didn’t steal a thing, right?” Their second in command said, grabbing Nia’s shoulder.

“Never doubted you,” the wizard said, giving her friend a dazzling smile.

The sweet moment got interrupted when Astarion heard movement from inside the walls.

“The prisoner has escaped!” Someone yelled in the distance.

“As lovely as this reunion has been, maybe we should make ourselves scarce, what do you say?” Astarion said, ushering them towards the road.

That said, they ran, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Even Lae’zel cackled.

Astarion fell into step with Nia.

“I didn’t expect this day to be filled with such excitement,” he said.

“I’m sorry that I interrupted your day off,” Nia replied, giving him a smile.

Astarion waved her off. “Ah, don’t apologise. You’ve given me something precious.” She gave him a questioning look. “The knowledge that behind that sweet and kind exterior, there’s a little rogue hiding inside you. And a little flirt. What did you tell the guard to keep him so preoccupied with your fine eyes?”

She smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He did want to know.

He chuckled. “One day you’re going to tell me all your tricks, and I’m going to use them against you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Astarion laughed again as he ran.

He was finding out that in this newfound freedom, his days were never boring with Nia.

He didn’t wish for these moments to end just yet.

Chapter Text

Astarion read his novel in peace. The camp felt almost serene at this time of day. Gale did his magic tricks outside his tent and wrote some things on a scroll as he muttered to himself. Lae’zel sharpened her sword, she didn’t seem so murderous today. Wyll played with Scratch and threw a stick at the mutt. Yes. There was no fighting. No blood. No mud or other grime. Just peace and quiet. And yet Astarion felt restless. He read the same paragraph over and over, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. Frustrated, he threw the book inside his tent and sighed. Then, he looked up at the sky. It was starting to get dark. He gazed at the woods, ears at the ready to pick out the sound of footsteps. Nothing. Only the chirping of birds could be heard. He frowned. Gale seemed to notice the same thing.

“They’re late, aren’t they?” He said more to himself than to Astarion.

“I’m sure they’re just taking their sweet time exploring. No need to worry,” Wyll replied gently, still playing with Scratch, who barked with excitement. “With some luck, Nia will bring you an artifact.”

“I guess so…Well, I’d better get started on dinner,” Gale said and went to gather ingredients. “They’re going to come back famished and tired.”

Astarion scoffed. “Serves them right,” Astarion said quietly. His voice was low enough that neither Gale nor Wyll heard him, but he gained an appreciative nod from Lae’zel. He picked at his nails, the motions lazy, practiced to perfection to appear unbothered. In truth, he felt a most annoying prickling underneath his skin. He wanted to scratch at it until it stopped. Alas, he knew doing so would only mar his beautiful flesh, so he began tapping his foot instead, to distract himself from the itch.

To say he was irked would be an understatement. Not even having fallen in a puddle and getting covered in mud had vexed him so. He felt a hunger that had nothing to do with bloodlust. A hankering to bite something like a rabid dog. To snarl and screech and hurt. It was positively primitive. And bothersome. He clenched his fists until they turned white, and his nails broke the skin, drawing out tiny drops of blood. He needed to calm himself down before the others noticed. He took deep breaths and sighed. It was all Nia’s fault.

They’d just had their first real tiff. Not a disagreement. Not an argument. A full-blown quarrel with a tiny bit of screaming on his part. Well, a whole lot. And some insults. He’d never seen Nia that cross at any of them. Her glare could have murdered him. Not that Astarion had cared at the time. He’d just wanted to get his thoughts out. To make her listen. The way she’d dismissed his concerns had pissed him off at a level he didn’t think was possible. It felt like he didn’t matter to her. He couldn’t have that, so he snapped. The result was he stayed in camp while she left once more to be the hero. A part of himself hated her for it. (Where had she been when he’d needed her the most?)

And his plan was going so well too. After their little talk, they’d become friends officially. He kept calling her his friend, and she gave him such a precious smile every single time, as if the thought alone made her happy. It was a tad disarming, if he was being honest. Intense. If Nia smiled at him in that way now, he couldn’t imagine how she’d look at him when he was finally on top of her, making her his. But, no matter, this was the first step to getting close to her. He had her trust, now all he needed was her heart. Well, lust.

Except he hadn’t counted on a slight setback.

Curse Nia’s altruistic nature to all the nine hells! They were supposed to get help from Auntie Ethel. She had invited them to her teahouse, where she was meant to examine them and find a cure. That would surely save them from going to the Githyanki Crèche and spending time with Lae’zel’s kind. But no. They had to cross paths with two desperate brothers looking for their lost widowed sister, who happened to be with child, no less. The perfect sob story if Astarion ever heard one. The pair accused Auntie Ethel of kidnapping their sister. Nia, to her credit, hadn’t wanted to get involved at first. She neither defended nor betrayed Auntie Ethel, only asking if it was true. Although that had offended the old woman anyway, everything could have still been solved with an apology and one of Nia’s bright smiles. It was basically a done deal. And yet… oh Astarion was sure the gods above had a personal vendetta against him. Everything had gone to shit when they discovered the brothers’ corpses.

“Helpless old lady, my arse,” Nia had said as she observed the murdered men.

Astarion knew her well enough to know guilt was gnawing at her. He rolled his eyes. They couldn’t possibly be expected to help everyone they came across. They had enough with the tiefling refugees at the Emerald Grove, and their whole business with the druids and the goblins. It wasn’t their fault the brothers hadn’t been smart and strong enough to find their sister. Nia had even warned them to be careful. They had yelled at her and hadn’t even offered them any coin for their services either, not even copper.

“Tough luck,” was all Astarion managed to say. He shrugged. “Then, shall we?”

“Hold on,” she replied, kneeling in front of the brothers.

For a moment, Astarion believed she was going to loot the bodies. The thought made his heart swell. She didn’t, to his growing disappointment. Instead, she leant down to examine the corpses up close. She looked at every wound, deep in thought. Brunhilde followed suit, curious as to what Nia was seeing. Next to him, Lae’zel grunted in disapproval.

“Are we going to stay here all day or are we going to Auntie Ethel’s?” He asked, displeased.

Nia’s nose scrunched. “Oh, we’re going to pay her a visit, alright.” Her tone of voice did not promise a nice little trip like Astarion wanted. He could hear disgust and thinly veiled anger in her words.

“You’re not thinking she─”

“These wounds,” she said, gesturing to the corpses, “weren’t caused by bandits.”

“Right,” he replied, “well, I guess we’ll never know what killed them.”

“It was a hag,” Brunhilde said.

“Are you sure?” Lae’zel questioned.

“I’m positive,” Brunhilde answered. “See these markings on their chests? Only a hag would be able to do that. That’s what Nia was checking.”

“Why do we even care?” Astarion muttered. “They were the ones with business with Auntie Ethel. If it’s true she’s a hag and they knew, they should’ve come prepared.”

“It’s true,” Nia said. “She’s a hag. Grandel the Gur mentioned he wanted to visit the hag of this place. He was awfully close to the location of Ethel’s teahouse.”

The Gur had once again managed to thwart his plans. Astarion could’ve resurrected the man only to kill him again.

“Even so, it’s not our place to interfere. They offended her. This is what they got.”

“How could we not at least ask her? Try to see if their sister is safe,” Nia said, probably trying to reason with him. But he didn’t care.

He rubbed his eyes. The tadpole squirmed inside his head. He felt the beginning of a headache coming.

“If we confront her, Ethel won’t help us, and the entire point of this adventure will become moot.”

“Astarion is right,” it was Lae’zel who defended him. “We’re just wasting time here.”

He felt vindicated that his githyanki companion felt a similar way to him. Nia, however, ignored her. She turned to look at him, eyes pleading.

“She’s with child, Astarion,” Nia said. “She’s all alone in the world now. She’s vulnerable. How can you ask me not to help her?”

He glared at her. “What about us, then? Are you going to stop helping us just to help everyone else?” He said, raising his voice slightly. “What if we all turn into mind flayers because you wanted to be the hero, hmm?”

That gave her pause. “I’m not… we’re not going to become mind flayers if I question Auntie Ethel.”

“And what if she’s the only one who can rid us of these parasites, and since you so clearly wish to offend her, she refuses to help us? What then?” His voice was a shrill. She wasn’t listening to him. It infuriated him. A fire burnt inside him, more scorching than Karlach’s own engine heart.

“That’s not going to happen,” Nia assured him.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t wish to offend her. I merely want to make sure Mayrina is safe.”

He scoffed. “Why do you care more about her than us?” He screamed.

“I don’t─”

“Why should I care about a stupid little girl and her stupid little babe when she’s the one that wanted to play with a hag with no regard to her own brothers? It’s her fault they died, the little brat. It’s probably her fault her husband died too,” Astarion spat viciously, chest heaving as he let it all out. “And you’re just as stupid if you want to risk it all just to save someone who doesn’t seem to want to be saved.” He finished, feeling proud of himself for a single moment. That’s what she got for refusing to see reason.

His smirk, however, faltered when he saw her face. Her glare was deadly. If looks could kill, he would have died a million times over.

“You don’t need to come,” she hissed. “I can do this all on my own.”

Astarion frowned. She couldn’t possibly be implying she’d go by herself. Was she an idiot?

“Let’s not get carried away,” Brunhilde, thankfully, interrupted them. “Let’s go back to camp and talk with the others. If Ethel’s a hag, I personally don’t feel comfortable trusting her with our issue. But we’ll see how everyone feels about this.”

“Fine,” Nia said and turned around, not even daring to look back.

“Fine,” he snarled and followed behind Lae’zel, who muttered about how everyone in the group liked to waste time.

They trekked back in strained silence. Brunhilde was the only one who dared to speak. She commented about the weather, and then about an animal she saw pass by.  No one talked, but Lae’zel did grunt every once in a while to show she was listening. Nia didn’t look at him at all. It was as if he didn’t exist. Her iciness was staggering. Astarion didn’t know she had it in her to be anything other than kind. It also incensed him further. How dare she, he thought, how dare she ignore me as if she doesn’t care. She might not even care. Perhaps her words had been a ruse to get him to trust her. And they had worked. An uncomfortable feeling emerged from deep within him at these thoughts.

Once they reached camp, Brunhilde explained the situation and Nia gave an impassioned speech to the others about why she wanted to investigate this case further. Unsurprisingly, all agreed that they should go and question Auntie Ethel and that it’d be wise not to trust her if she was a hag. What a bunch of goody-goodies, Astarion thought. How he despised the lot of them.

“I’m not going,” he declared then.

“You weren’t invited,” was Nia’s retort, and Astarion would be lying if he said it didn’t sting.

In the end it was decided Karlach would go with Nia and Brunhilde. The tiefling had been deeply touched by the story and desired to help. Shadowheart had volunteered to go with them, claiming they would need someone who could heal them if they were going against a hag. The four women left the next morning, after spending the previous evening planning for a worst-case-scenario. Astarion looked on as they left, not without sharing one last glare with Nia. Well, he thought, at least he had a day off to laze around while they did all the hard work. He’d done nothing but attempt to read his novel and ignore his companions. He idly wondered how they were fairing, before brushing the thought aside. It’s not like he cared if they got hurt. As time went on, though, he started to admit to himself he was a bit worried. His eyes never strayed far from the woods, awaiting their return.

He wasn’t the only one on edge. Gale had begun rambling about the wonders of the Weave as he cooked. He was so clumsy that he cut his finger with a knife and almost burnt his tunic with the campfire. Wyll, who was normally polite enough to keep a conversation going, replied to Gale in monosyllables, his eyes constantly searching for a sign of their companions. And Lae’zel had stopped doing her usual maintenance. She sat quietly, ears at the ready. Even the dog knew something was up. He had stopped barking and sat in front of Nia’s tent, waggling his tail anxiously. They all seemed to be waiting with bated breath.

Suddenly, they heard footsteps. Scratch perked up, Gale stopped talking, Wyll turned around, Lae’zel grabbed her sword, and Astarion stood up. If his heart were alive, it would probably be ramming inside his chest. They were not talking. The only sound that came from the woods was that of their boots crunching branches and grass. Astarion’s skin prickled once more. All his instincts pointed to something being wrong. At long last, the four came into view. First came Karlach, who had a limp and several bruises, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Shadowheart followed suit, although she was battered, she came back in one piece. Behind them, Brunhilde and Nia appeared, with the latter being supported by the half-orc. She was the one in the worst shape. A cut lip, bruises marring her beautiful face, other cuts on her body and she favoured her right foot over the other. The smell of blood hit Astarion before they were close to camp. Their blood, yes, but mostly Nia’s blood. He gasped.

“What happened?” Wyll was the first one to react. He walked towards Brunhilde and tried to carry Nia, but she pushed him away.

“I’m fine, Wyll,” she said and then winced when she stepped with her left foot.

“That doesn’t look fine to me,” the man replied, glancing at her injured body.

“Someone is being stubborn,” Shadowheart said. “She wouldn’t let me heal her.”

“You’re exhausted, Shadowheart,” Nia said. “I have more healing potions in my tent. I’ll be fine.”

That said, she limped towards her tent, ignoring all of them except Scratch, and closed the flaps behind her. The rest all turned to look at each other, uncertain.

“What happened?” Wyll insisted.

“Things didn’t go as planned,” was Brunhilde’s guarded response.

“The old woman turned out to be a hag after all,” Karlach elaborated.

“And our helpless victim wasn’t all that grateful for our help,” Shadowheart said sourly.

Astarion winced. Any other day he would have gloated at having been right. But after seeing their state, particularly Nia’s, he didn’t feel like it. They really could have died.

He shook, his stomach clenching.

“Let’s just rest, heal our wounds, and talk more tomorrow,” Brunhilde said before she too went to her own tent.

“I’ll finish healing all of you once I’m rested,” Shadowheart muttered.

“Don’t worry about it, Shaddy,” Karlach told her. “We’ll be fine until morning.”

“Don’t call me that.”

The three remaining women went to their tents without saying much else. Gale, in all his kindness, grabbed their plates and brought them dinner to each tent so they didn’t have to move too much. Nia, however, sent him away.

“She says she’s not hungry,” was all that Gale said when he came back with the warm plate still on his hand.

“If she wants to be difficult, let her starve,” Astarion replied.

“That’s not nice to say,” Wyll countered. “She’s probably too exhausted to eat. Or too in pain.”

That shut him up real quick.

“I’m going to save her a portion,” Gale said, ignoring them. “Once she feels better, she might be in the mood to eat.”

“She only needs to rest tonight, and then she’ll be fine,” Lae’zel added before standing up from her place in the fire and going to her own tent.

As it turned out, Nia’s temper did not improve come morning. It was, in fact, worse. Just not in the way Astarion had expected. She had eaten her ration at some point during the night, that much was clear from the empty plate and cup. However, she was long gone before they all gathered for breakfast. No one had seen her or heard her leave. Not even him. They ate in silence, which was broken once or twice by Gale’s jokes, but the air was so thick with tension that nobody laughed. Sometime later, Nia returned, face swollen but at least her cuts were clean. She asked Shadowheart to heal her with some reservations, and the two excused themselves to go to Nia’s tent.

“That’s some progress,” Gale commented.

“I’m not so sure,” Karlach said, her eyes looking at the green tent.

Shadowheart sighed once she exited. She shook her head at Gale when he attempted to talk. “Best not disturb her… she’s not… I’d leave her alone if I were you.” The cleric looked pointedly at all of them and then walked towards her own tent.

Brunhilde concluded it’d be best if all rested for the day. Of course, those who had missed yesterday’s adventure were free to do as they pleased, yet no one seemed to want to head out. Not that Astarion particularly cared about going on adventures on his own ─especially with the threat of monster hunters being after him─, nonetheless he almost marvelled at the way they all deflated when Nia was upset. It was like she was the sun, and the rest grew cold in her absence. They all seemed to wish to follow her to the depths of Avernus. The worst part was that she probably hadn’t realised the pull she held over all of them. That was true power, Astarion decided, and not what Cazador enforced. What frightened him the most was that, despite his grumbling, he’d also follow her in a heartbeat. He vanished the thought as fast as it came and went back to his book.

A few hours later, Nia emerged from her tent sporting clean clothes. Her face was no longer battered, and she didn’t limp anymore. Despite this, she didn’t greet everyone with her usual smiles. She, instead, ignored them and went about camp, checking their provisions. Her eyes were red, and her lips were set in a firm line. It appeared she would burst into tears at any given moment. She did, in fact, cry after Gale, in a misplaced attempt to brighten her mood, told her a dumb joke.

“Excuse me,” she stammered and practically ran away from camp, leaving a befuddled Gale behind.

“Was it something I said?” He asked.

“It might’ve been your face,” Astarion replied.

“Har, har. Very funny.”

“I am, you should get some pointers from me.”

Gale scoffed, shook his head at him and went back to his own books.

As fun as it was to mess with Gale, Astarion had to admit Nia’s reaction was unlike anything he’d seen her do. What in the hells had happened with the damned hag is what Astarion wanted to know. It must have been bad to have Nia in such a state. Once again, he felt at a loss on what to do. The elf wouldn’t tell him anything. He’d be surprised if she even said two words to him. Shadowheart would only give him sarcastic remarks and shoo him away him. And he was a tad scared of Brunhilde. Karlach would have to do. He didn’t think she’d deny him answers. Resolute, he walked towards the tiefling, who was lying down on her tent, staring at the sky.

“Karlach,” he greeted her.

“Ah, hello Fangs, is something the matter?” She said as she sat properly.

Shrugging off the nickname, Astarion sat down next to her. “As a matter of fact, yes. Can you tell me what has Nia in such a mood?”

Karlach hummed. Her eyes glancing towards where Nia had disappeared to. “It turns out Auntie Ethel is a real bitch.” The vampire chortled at her words of choice. “No, really, she told Brunhilde her parents must have been two ugly bastards for her to look like that. I’m not against trash talking in a fight, but that was uncalled for.”

“What did she call Nia to have her bursting into tears and not Brunhilde?”

Karlach hesitated. “It’s not so much what she said, but what happened.”

Alarms went off in his head. “What did the hag do?”

“When we got to her house, Mayrina was there,” Karlach started retelling. “Nia tried to ask her if she was alright, and if she knew what had happened to her brothers. The lass didn’t answer. Before we could even begin to understand the situation, Ethel transformed into a hag and took the girl with her, deep into her lair. We had no choice but to follow. There we had to fight her thralls. We realised they were slaves, poor souls that were tricked by the hag. Nia all but begged us not to kill them. We tried… but, yeah, it didn’t work. The hag had other victims that I don’t think we saved either.”

Whilst it was true that Nia tried to avoid killing as much as possible, Astarion didn’t think the death of a few strangers was enough to break her.

“And then what?”

“Well, we finally found the hag. She had Mayrina inside a cage. The lass claimed she was there on her own free will, though you can see why it was hard to believe her. Long story short, the fight was gruesome as the damned witch summoned copies of herself and tried to set the cage on fire. It was hard trying to guess which copy was the real hag, while trying to save the girl. She taunted us too. We almost died several times. The hag seemed to particularly have it against Nia, that’s why she was more injured than us.”

“I suppose Auntie Ethel felt betrayed,” Astarion said.

“Whatever the case, that old woman didn’t fight fair. She went as far as taking Mayrina’s shape to trick us. Not that it worked, the lass has a belly and the copy didn’t. Anyway, we managed to kill the hag at the end, but Mayrina wasn’t having it. She insulted the soldier and blamed her for losing her husband. She’d made a deal with the hag of some kind to resurrect her husband that was broken when we defeated her. She even slapped the soldier when she tried to console her. Mayrina’s words seemed to strike a chord with her. That’s when she started acting… crestfallen.”

He nodded, as he absorbed this information.

“There seems to be a story there,” Karlach said. “With Nia I mean.”

Astarion didn’t answer. He furrowed his brows as he tried to think what exactly had upset her so. Was it not being thanked after all her hard work? Was it that she had failed in her heroic duties? Did she regret killing Ethel without finding a cure for them? Had his words from the other day contributed to her current state?

“Look,” the tiefling started saying, bringing him out of his reverie, “it’s no secret we’re all sweet on the soldier.” She gestured with her head towards their other companions. “And we all want to help. But I think it would mean more to her if you were the one that went and talked to her.”

Astarion blinked. “What do you mean?”

Karlach gave him a funny look before shrugging. “Just go and talk to her. If you have questions, she’s the only one that can answer them.”

He guessed that was true. It wouldn’t do him any good to stay here, attempting to find out why she had acted in such a queer way. He’d have to talk to her, it seemed.

“Right, I’ll go now.”

“Yes, go. And hey, tell the soldier we’re all here for her.”

“Will do.”

Astarion stood up and followed Nia’s footprints. It didn’t take him long to find her. He was attuned to her heartbeat, and he could faintly smell her natural scent of berries and sunshine. He found her sitting on a fallen trunk, staring blanky ahead. Her shoulders shook as she took ragged breaths. She was calming herself; it would seem. He plopped next to her, startling her. She’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t heard him.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted her, voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

“A-astarion,” she stammered. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes were puffy, and her skin glowed from all the tears she’d shed.

“When you didn’t come back after several hours, we all got worried,” he said. “I came looking for you.”

“Oh, so you came here to brag?” She snapped. She crossed her arms and turned to look away from him.

“You wound me, my dear,” he retorted. “I’m… I’m genuinely worried about you.” Even he was surprised by how gentle and sincere he sounded. But it was enough to make Nia look at him again.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Why?”

“I talked to Karlach. She told me everything that went down,” his words made Nia wince, “and I still don’t understand why you are so, how to put it? Distressed.”

He watched as the wizard took a deep breath. She was unsure. She was probably still irked at him from their earlier tiff.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he added. “Gods know I don’t like discussing my private life. I’d be a hypocrite if I made you talk to satiate my own curiosity.”

Nia appeared to ponder his words before speaking. “Do you really want to know?”

“Only what you’re willing to share.”

She sighed. “The reason why I wanted to help Mayrina so much is that… let’s just say I too know what it’s like to lose someone you love.” Her words were shaky; it looked like it pained her to say them. Nevertheless, they were honest. “I feared that the hag was taking advantage of her. That she was being withheld or was being lied to. I… I pitied her. Because she reminded me of myself.” The last part was said quietly. A few stray tears fell from her eyes. She quickly wiped them off. “But you were right,” she said, looking straight at him. “She truly did not want to be saved.”

Astarion didn’t feel like saying “I told you so” or similar phrases. In truth, he did not even want to boast, because he didn’t think he was right. It was a hollow victory.

Nia, however, took his silence as an agreement. “I guess I was just projecting my own feelings onto Mayrina.”

“How do you know I’m right?” Astarion blurted out.

“Huh?” She exclaimed, surprised. Like she thought he’d take glee from her misery.

“Auntie Ethel was a hag. Like you thought. There’s no world in which she didn’t lie to the girl. Did you manage to find out what the hag wanted in exchange?”

Nia shook her head. “Does it even matter? She won’t get her husband back.”

“It may give her some closure. To know she was being tricked.” he said. “Would knowing have helped you out if you’d been in her position?”

She thought about it for a moment. “You know what scares me? I think I too would have made a deal with a hag if the opportunity had presented itself. And then I would’ve felt foolish when she tricked me. Perhaps having an assurance that her husband wasn’t coming back either way will help her move on. She’s about to give birth, after all. She should be looking forward to the future.”

Astarion wasn’t sure what overcame him, but he suddenly stood up and held out his hand to Nia. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

“You have that amulet to speak to the dead. Let’s go back to Auntie Ethel’s and find out what she wanted from Mayrina. She was most likely up to no good. Once we know, we can tell the girl, and she can move past this. That would, in a way, save her, don’t you think?”

Nia merely nodded. She didn’t say much, yet she took his hand. He pulled her up and dropped her hand.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

The walk towards Ethel’s teahouse was mostly quiet. Brunhilde and Lae’zel offered to come with them as backup in case they ran into more trouble, and with their luck, Astarion had no doubt it was highly possible they’d be attacked by beasts or bandits or both. Thankfully, nothing bothered them, not even those pesky goblins. He walked next to Nia, falling into place with her steps. She hadn’t said much since their trip started, but at least she wasn’t crying any longer. He still wasn’t sure what had possessed him to want to go and talk to the dead hag. He only knew that it’d probably stop Nia from feeling sad. He couldn’t stand her tears, he told himself. They annoyed him.

Deep down he knew those were lies.

“We’re here,” Brunhilde announced.

The teahouse was a shabby looking thing. Rundown and grim, like he’d come to expect from most places in the area once he’d heard the Sunlit Wetlands were a mere illusion. Nothing to write home about.  They went in, Brunhilde wordlessly guiding them amidst the dust. The house and the workshop itself were tidy if rustic. There were no signs of struggling there. Astarion’s eyes lingered on every crevice.

“Have you investigated this area?” He asked.

Nia shook her head. “We had more pressing matters to attend to, and then we were too tired to care.”

He hummed. “There could be something interesting or useful.”

“Let’s split and search, then.”

The four began opening drawers and doors, looking under tables, any place that could potentially hide something. Nia found a few potions that could come in handy, Lae’zel pocketed coins and Brunhilde found a scroll. They found nothing of note, though.

“So, where’s the hag?” Astarion finally asked after nothing caught his eye.

“This way,” Brunhilde replied.

They kept walking, past the hearth, and into a tunnel that gave way to a gallery. The bog surrounding the area gave a putrid smell that made Astarion gag. Even though there were items littered around, the place was empty.

“The hag’s victims were here,” Nia explained. “I don’t know where they went.”

“Wherever they went, they were in such a hurry, they left all their belongings,” Astarion said, as he inspected some of the fallen objects.

“Where’s the hag?” Lae’zel asked again.

“She’s further ahead,” Brunhilde said, gesturing for them to follow her.

The half-orc guided them into another tunnel, the floor was muddy, uneven and full of vines.

“A home perfect for a hag,” Astarion sarcastically remarked as he was careful not to step on mud.

There were signs of a battle; blood and charred dirt covered the floor. They passed by four bodies, which he realised were the four victims they’d failed to save given the way Nia adverted her eyes. They didn’t dally in that area. It was much too soon, and the corpses were still fresh. They carried on, following Brunhilde as she avoided traps and vines. She seemed to know where to step, tiptoeing and hopping about. Finally, they climbed down a wall and came face to face with a waterfall. Brunhilde jumped and crossed to the other side. Lae’zel instantly followed suit, sword at the ready. Nia came next, leaping underneath the cascade. She waited for him to cross. Water splashed him as he jumped. Once there he realised they had reached the hag’s ancient abode. Astarion looked around, noticing blood trails and marks of burns on the floor. This was the place where they had killed the hag. He turned to look at Nia and followed her gaze until it landed on a corpse. Next to him, Nia clenched her fists in anger. It was the hag.

His companion walked towards the body, mindful of the rocky terrain and the puddles of blood. Astarion followed her, close behind. He needed to see, needed to hear what this hag had planned. She was slumped unceremoniously on the floor, blood pooling underneath. Gone was the old woman they had met, the one he had found interesting. In her stead, she’d left a monstruous being. She was tall and deformed, with green-tinted skin, a crooked and bulbous nose, claws, bones coming from her hunchback, and sunken yellow eyes which stared at nothing.

Nia took the amulet out of her bag and recited the spell to speak with the dead. A charm on the body glowed, signalling her spirit was coming back. The hag screamed in rage when she saw them.

“You knuckle-dragging gobshite,” she screeched at Nia.

“Hello, Ethel,” his wizard companion greeted the hag, trying her best to appear unbothered.

“You will bleed. You will choke on your own guts for this,” the hag cursed her.

“You’re quite lively for a corpse,” Nia mused. Astarion smirked next to her at her joke.

“I’m a hag, you little snot,” Ethel, or rather, what was left of her, replied. “I’ve been ready for death, planning for death, longer than you’ve been born. But I won’t be a corpse forever, that I can bloody promise you.”

Nia shuddered, yet she steeled herself. “What deal did you make with Mayrina?” she asked.

The hag cackled. “The brat’s husband is dead. So sad. She wanted me to bring him back to life. Little fool thought it would fix everything.”

That much they knew already.

“Tell me the truth, what did you want with Mayrina in exchange of your services?”

“I didn’t want the girl, sweetie,” she said with a chortle, “I wanted her babe.” Astarion felt Nia stiffen beside him after hearing those words. “I would have gobbled it up and given birth to my very own hag daughter. From my guts she would've come: my blood, my bile. It would have been glorious.”

Repulsion filled him. That was taking things too far, even for him. Nia seemed to think something similar, as she glared at the hag.

“Why are you so cruel?” She spat. Her face scrunched up in disgust.

“Please. It's you lot who come to me. All you do is want, to be prettier, to be richer, to be loved,” the hag said with contempt. “People are their own worst enemies, petal. I just let them see it.”

Nia ignored her words. “One last thing,” she said, “where do you keep your valuables?”

The hag grinned. “I see you now for who you are, sweetness. You’d burn the whole world to the ground just to get what you want. And even then, that which you lost will never return to you,” she cackled as Nia glared at her. “But no matter. You’ll die soon enough like the illithid scum you are. Have fun with the treasures in my workshop. They won’t help you when the flesh melts from your bones, your guts dissolve, and your brain liquefies as you turn into a mind flayer.” She laughed and laughed, her voice echoing inside the chamber, only for it to be cut short when the spell was diffused.

“Ugh,” Astarion grumbled. “She was as horrid as her true form.”

“Let’s go to her workshop now,” Nia announced and turned around to leave the abode without any more words. She trembled as she walked. Astarion decided not to say anything. He did wonder about the meaning of Ethel’s words though.

Together, the three silently followed Nia to her workshop, which was as acrid as the lair itself.

“Check everywhere,” Nia said. “There must be something in here she was planning to use on Mayrina’s husband.”

They soon found all of Ethel’s special potions as they weren’t exactly hidden. Astarion wasn’t sure what they were, but nothing good could come from consuming them. Brunhilde grabbed them and kept them in her bag. “Just in case,” she said. He agreed. They could give them a better use than others who came to the hag’s lair. Or at the very least keep them away from their enemies. Nevertheless, none of them looked special enough to revive anyone. Astarion walked around, eyes searching for anything he might have missed. Then, they fell on a stone slab.

“What’s this?” He mumbled as he grabbed a wand made of twisted roots. “Is that flesh?” He complained with disgust.

That caught Nia’s attention. “Let me see,” she said, taking the wand from him. Her eyes appraised it. “Look, it says Connor. I believe that was Mayrina’s husband’s name. And there’s hair on it. Perhaps it’s his.”

“And his dead flesh as well,” Astarion said.

Nia closed her eyes and made some hand movements. Her eyes widened. “There’s… there’s power in here.”

“Do you think that’s what the hag was going to use?” Brunhilde asked.

“Oh, I’m sure. Let’s find Mayrina. We have what we need.”

They found the girl outside, standing in front of a wooden casket. She was crying.

“Mayrina?” Nia whispered, walking until she was beside the girl.

She was startled. “Gods, didn’t hear you coming.” She seemed apologetic towards Nia. Astarion remembered what Karlach had said, how the girl had insulted her and blamed her for everything.

“That’s alright, sweetheart,” Nia said gently. “Is that your husband?”

The girl nodded, a sob escaping from her throat. “I know I should head home, but I can’t bring myself to leave.”

Nia gave her a sympathetic smile. “I also didn’t leave his grave for days,” she said. Mayrina stared at her with wonder. “It’s not… a good feeling to return to an empty house.”

“That’s not all,” the girl replied. She crossed her arms around herself, her body shook as she gasped for air, tears streaming down her face. “The thought of putting him in a wheelbarrow and making the journey all over again…” she sighed.

“For what’s worth, I’m sorry for my part in this,” Nia said as she patted the girl’s shoulder. “Hags are not the most trustworthy bunch, and I feared you were being deceived.”

“I probably was, wasn’t I? Gods, I’m such an idiot.”

“You were,” Astarion interjected, gaining a glare from all the women around him. “Deceived, I mean,” he added. He turned to look at Nia and nodded.

“Auntie Ethel planned to eat your child,” she said.

“What? But she promised to look after them! Teach them magic!” Mayrina seemed flabbergasted. She hadn’t thought about the repercussions of her deal at all.

“She’s a hag, Mayrina. That’s what they do,” Nia replied. “I am sorry, though, that she lied to you.”

“I trusted her,” she groaned.

“I mean, turning a child into a hag does involve teaching them magic,” Astarion said.

“Astarion,” Nia hissed.

“What? It’s true.”

“Gods, I never thought…” Mayrina stammered. “I didn’t think this through at all. I’m so stupid. So bloody stupid.”

“No, no,” Nia said, rubbing her shoulders. “You were desperate, and she took advantage of that.”

“But I should’ve seen it!” She yelled. “I thought I could fix it. Give my child a good home and bring my husband back, all in one go.”

“I am sorry,” Nia said. “But now’s the time to leave it all behind and focus on your child and your future together.”

“You think my baby ever left my mind?” Mayrina replied. “Not even at my lowest.”

Nia flinched. “I didn’t mean that. I meant…” She sighed. “Look, I just wanted to tell you, so you’d have closure. But that’s not all. I found something.”

Mayrina stopped crying and looked at her. “What?”

“A wand. I believe it’s what Ethel planned to use to resurrect your husband.”

The girl’s eyes sparkled, hope blooming inside her again. “You can do it? You’re a wizard. You can do it, can’t you?”

Nia’s face hardened. “I’m not sure what the effects are going to be. She was a hag, remember? It could all be a trick. Do you still want me to try?”

Mayrina nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, ma’am.”

“Alright.”

Nia took out the wand. It started glowing green, the air around it turned pungent with the smell of decay.

“Bring him back,” Mayrina begged. “Bring Connor back. Please.”

They all watched as Nia pointed the wand towards the casket and flicked it. Immediately, a green ray struck it. Next, something rattled within. The wood crunched, something snapped. A body fell from it and tumbled into the ground with a loud thud. Astarion’s eyes widened when he saw what it was. Connor’s corpse. He had the distinctive paleness of death, not unlike his own. The body was bloated, having been dead for many weeks now. Flesh fell from the rotten wounds. The face had been eaten by maggots already. All his bones were noticeable, his ribcage, his skull. His hair and nose were missing. It was, truly, a horrific sight. The four blanched, but it was Mayrina who looked the worst.

She gasped. “What? What’s happening? Why’s he still dead?” Her voice had a hysterical shrill to it.

Nia’s hands shook as they held the wand. “I knew it was a trick,” she said. She swore under her breath, something in Elvish Astarion couldn’t quite catch.

Then, the undead groaned as it knelt on the ground. It stood up and began approaching his wife.

“What’ve you done to him?!” Mayrina shrieked without taking her eyes from the corpse.

“So, the hag fulfils her promise,” Nia muttered, wand still pointed at the body. “It can never be simple, can it?” She thought for a moment. Nose scrunched as she looked at the corpse. “Hold on, maybe it’s not permanent.”

“Not permanent?” Mayrina screeched. “Bits of him are falling off.”

“I…” the wizard faltered. “There might be a spell.” She tried to say. Her brows furrowed. It looked like she was trying to remember all the spells and cantrips she knew.

“Who cares about a spell?” Mayrina exclaimed. “I wanted him back, back the way he was. Not this.”

It’d be impossible with this level of decay, Astarion thought. The only cure he could think of was vampirism, and even then, a person would never be the same, as he knew all too well.

Nia bit her lip. “It would be best if we bury him again.” She moved the wand to release the spell when the girl screamed.

“No! Don’t put him in the ground! He was… he is afraid of the dark.” The girl clutched Nia’s robes, trembling.

The wizard rubbed her forehead. “Then, what will you have me do?” She sounded defeated.

“I’ll do it. I’ll take him,” Mayrina said, surprising them all.

The girl’s mad, Astarion thought as he observed her from a few steps behind. He couldn’t fathom what an expectant woman would be able to do with a literal walking corpse, and so close to the birth no less.

Nia looked from Mayrina, to the corpse, to the wand and back at Mayrina again. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked.

The girl nodded, a wild look to her eyes. “I promised him I’d fix this,” she replied. “And I’m gonna. Maybe, maybe someone in Baldur’s Gate can help us. I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”

Nia didn’t look convinced, not that Astarion could blame her. Baldur’s Gate might have been the city of one million chances, but this was taking it too far. He didn’t think even the greatest necromancer in all Faerûn could do something to fix this.

“Okay,” Nia finally conceded. “Perhaps someone at the academy knows how to help you. Tell them Nia sent you, and they won’t turn you away.”

Mayrina nodded and took the wand from Nia. “Come on, love. Let’s go.”

With that, both spouses left, reunited at last in macabre circumstances.

Nia took a sharp breath once they were gone and fell on her knees. “I shouldn’t have used the wand.” Her eyes were unfocused, her body shivered.

Brunhilde patted her shoulder. “She wanted to. It wasn’t our place to choose for her.”

Lae’zel tsked. “She shouldn’t have left with the wand,” she grumbled.

Astarion sighed. Although his gith companion was right, there was no use in getting his undergarments twisted. He knew the wizard enough to know she’d never keep such a thing. “Well, there’s nothing we can do now. Let’s just go back and rest. There were too many emotions today, and I can’t stand the smell of this wretched place.”

With that, the four of them made their way back to camp. Nia sniffled once or twice, though she seemed calmer than before. That was good. Even so, Astarion wasn’t sure he had succeeded despite his best intentions; at the very least the girl had gotten her husband back. Sort of.

The journey back was uneventful and soon they were greeted by the campfire and Gale’s cooking. Astarion motioned for Nia to follow him. She nodded and the two went to the same fallen branch she had been sitting on before. They sat down, they were so close, their shoulders brushed against each other.

“Are you feeling better, darling?” He asked her.

She shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting for her husband to come back a corpse.”

“Damned hag,” Astarion cursed. “She’s laughing at us from the grave.”

“I don’t think what I did was right,” Nia blurted out. “That wand is dangerous.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”

“I felt it, you know, when I had it,” she said, hands trembling. “Its power. It wanted me to control the corpse. To become its master.”

“Why didn’t you?” He asked with genuine curiosity. “Surely a zombie would be useful in this adventure.” He imagined what they would be able to do with that wand. Raise an army of the undead. He could almost taste its power.

“No one deserves to be a slave,” she answered pointedly.

Astarion froze. His fantasies of dominion fizzled out around him. In return, warmth spread through his cold body. “I, erm,” he coughed, burying this emotion deep within himself. “I think that it wasn’t all for nought. Mayrina has her closure now. She knows that the hag was going to trick her. You saved her poor babe from the terrible destiny of becoming a horrid hag. And you gave her hope,” he said. When Nia didn’t answer, he kept going. “Yes, mistakes were made. Her husband is just a pile of rotting flesh, and it will take a talented necromancer to fix this mess, but you saved her.” He touched her arm. “You’re the hero.”

She smiled weakly at him. “I didn’t do it to be heroic. I did it because, in the end, I wanted Mayrina to have her happy ending.”

“Yes, yes, that’s what a proper hero would say.” He dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. “So heroic, darling.”

“I wanted her to have her happy ending because I didn’t get mine.”

Astarion closed his mouth and looked at her. Tears fell down her beautiful face, glistening under the moonlight like diamonds. He almost reached to wipe them off, but he was too entranced by her expression. It was solemn, serene, and sorrowful.

“I told you, I was projecting myself onto Mayrina. I followed you to see if there was something to be done. If there was anything in the hag’s lair that could resurrect her husband. And despite the horrendous results, I… I still think I’m not any better. I would’ve done the same.”

“You would’ve sacrificed your own child to save your lover?” He asked, incredulous.

“No,” she answered fast, as if she’d thought about this before. “I wouldn’t have.”

“Then that makes you less stupid than Mayrina.”

“Love makes us all stupid, Astarion,” Nia said. He shut his mouth. “What about you? Would you have used that wand to resurrect your lover, even if they were nothing but a living corpse?”

The question took him aback. He thought about it for a moment, deep in thought. “The truth is I’ve never been in love,” he admitted to her. “I mean, maybe in my past life, not that I remember anything from that time. But not as a vampire. I’m… not sure what I would’ve done. I’m not against taking extreme measures if push comes to shove, clearly,” he said, pointing at his fangs, “and yet, I don’t like being tricked. After living for so long, I’m not naïve enough to believe in hags and other sorcerers. Hells, I don’t trust Withers and he claims he can bring us back to life for coin.” His words were wry as he spoke. Hands moving in wild gestures. Then, he dropped his hands and gave Nia a small smile. “That said, if I ever loved anyone… yes, maybe I’d be an idiot and fall into a scheme to save them. Maybe I’d sell my own child’s soul to the devil himself. Who knows. I sold my soul and body to Cazador, so it tracks.”

Something sparked in Nia’s eyes. Something he couldn’t name. It was gone as fast as it came. “I hope you never have to know,” she said, her hand stopping before she could pat his shoulder.

A queer feeling spread through him in waves. He felt disconcerted, as if she’d cast a spell on him. He didn’t even know what to do with her well wishes. The vampire froze in his seat. He, then, shook his head to dispel such thoughts. It wouldn’t do to dwell on this any longer. Giving her his best roguish smile, he said, “If I’m ever in such troubles, I know who to call.”

She didn’t answer right away. She moved her head, braids swinging along. Then she gave him a pitiful sort of smile. “Thank you.”

Astarion hadn’t expected that answer. Taken aback, he turned to fully look at her, frightful if this was a trick. “What for?”

“For helping me with Mayrina. You didn’t have to.”

Her eyes were so sincere, they made his skin crawl. He decided to joke. Anything to stop her from looking at him like that. “You’re rubbing off on me, it would seem. Watch out, I might come for your job as a hero.”

She giggled, the sound fluttering around like butterfly wings. A weight was lifted from Astarion’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Nia said after a few seconds of silence.

“Whatever for, my dear?” He asked, not knowing how to take her apology.

“For the fight we had the other day,” she said, fiddling with her fingers. “You were right. I didn’t listen to you. But I promise it wasn’t my intention to ignore you. At that point I didn’t think the hag could help us,” she explained.

The urges to boast had faded away a long time ago. Astarion waved her off. “Let bygones be bygones, darling. You might have saved us from a similar fate to Mayrina’s husband. Or who knows, we might have lost an eye.” Nia chuckled. He cleared his throat. “And I’m sorry for yelling. Now I get it. Just promise me you won’t stop to save every single soul in need of help?”

She pretended to think about it. “Can’t make any promises. One of those souls could be you.”

His dead heart stuttered. She didn’t know how true her words were.

“Pfft, alright. Then I’ll have to be there to be the voice of reason. I can’t have you running headfirst into my problems.”

“Hmm, deal,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Deal.”

They fell silent after that. It was peaceful.

“You were right. The stars look beautiful from here.”

Astarion grunted in approval.

Chapter Text

“Did you like Tangled Love?” Nia asked him one evening, after dinner.

“Pardon?” Astarion said, confused. He’d been lounging outside his tent before another night of hunting, waiting for his companions to go to sleep. The events of the day had left him starving. Who knew saving a snivelling child from a snake would open the appetite quite this much?

She smirked at him, lips curled in a playful smile. “Don’t play dumb, Astarion. The novel you took from my tent. You know, the romance one.”

He was suddenly grateful to be a vampire; otherwise, Nia might have seen his cheeks turning red. “Oh, that.” He shrugged. “I wanted to see what kind of filth you read. I have to say, darling, that I was disappointed to find it was just a sentimental novel. Really, now, what do you find so interesting about it?” He said, giving her his best unbothered grin.

She hummed; smirk still set on her face. “You will soon find that the buildup is more satisfying than the sex itself.”

The vampire smirked. “Oh? So that’s what you enjoy? The foreplay? I happen to be very good at that.”

Nia chuckled; cheeks pink under the moonlight. “I meant the romantic buildup,” she said shyly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her pointy ear. The action made her earrings swing back and forth. “I thought you might have enjoyed it given the fact you still have the book in your possession.” Ah, there it was.

Astarion cleared his throat. “We’ve been so preoccupied with saving children in the grove from evil druids and whatnot, that it must have simply slipped my mind.”

“Of course.” She didn’t believe him one bit, he could tell.

“I promise to return it as soon as possible.” He hoped the little wizard didn’t realize it was because he wanted to finish it. Damn that novel, it had no right to be so intriguing.

“You can keep it for as long as you want,” she replied. “I was just curious, though,” she said coyly.

“About what?” Astarion felt guarded. He didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking.

“Well, about what kind of books you do enjoy. Apparently, the sentimental ones are not your cup of tea.”

He brightened when he heard that. Nia was asking him about his literary recommendations at long last. He figured she may have gotten bored of Gale and his esoteric books. The bumbling wizard, for all his knowledge, did not seem to have taste when it came to the arts, something he could tell by his wardrobe. Not in the way Astarion had after years of cultivating himself.

“There are better topics to read about, my dear. Besides, those stories are even more fantastical than dragons. Who even falls in love in a day?”

Nia sat down next to him, trying to sneak a peek at the book he’d been skimming through. “Then, what do you suggest? What’s your favourite thing to read?”

“Poetry,” he said, putting his book away.

That caught her attention. “What kind?”

“All of it.” That answer got him raised eyebrows.

“Even romance?” She asked, a grin lacing her lips.

“Love poetry has nothing to do with the garbage you read,” he defended with a scoff.

She pursed her lips. “And yet you haven’t returned my book.”

“I told you I’d return it soon enough. Do you want me to go and get it now?”

Nia chuckled. It sounded like bells, the wind carrying her laughter through the night. Astarion wrapped his arms around himself and glared haughtily at her.

“I’m just teasing,” she answered with a shrug. “No need to get so defensive.”

“I’m not getting defensive,” he said, turning his face away from her. He was starting to resent her disturbing his peaceful night.

She chuckled. “Well, what is it you like about poetry?” she asked, hands under her chin as she looked intently at him.

Astarion let his arms fall and turned around, so they were face to face. “What’s not to like?” He gestured wildly as he spoke. “Poetry is an exploration of every known feeling. Love, revenge, pain, solitude, melancholy, lust. Tales of woe, of hardship, and tales of victory too. There is something for every mood. It also helps all us elves are remarkable poets,” he said, his voice becoming passionate the more he talked.

Nia listened to him with absolute earnestness. She had this way about her, in which she always appeared to be absorbed in what he said. It felt like, for a few minutes at least, he was the only thing that mattered in the world to her. Astarion quite enjoyed that. He delighted under her undivided attention.

“Have you ever tried writing your own poems?” She suddenly asked.

That gave him pause. “No, but I bet I’d be magnificent at it,” he said, mask in place.

Nia smiled at him. A soft kind of smile, almost affectionate. “I think so too.”

He froze under her stare, her long eyelashes fluttering as she spoke. He recovered quickly, taking the helm of this conversation. “I’d make a dashing poet, don’t you think?”

She nodded. “If we survive these tadpoles, you should give it a try.”

He snorted. “I might even compose a poem about our adventures. Disrupting a bugbear and an ogre’s passionate lovemaking would make for fetching verses, don’t you agree?”

The other elf laughed more freely this time, hands clutching her belly. “Oh, it’d be quite a poem, I’m sure.”

Astarion smirked. An idea taking root inside him. “And what about you? What salacious things do you read in your spare time?”

“Nothing that interesting, honestly. When I don’t have my nose buried in scrolls, I try to read anything I can get my hands on. I try to keep my mind active. I can read history books, legends of old, some horror, adventure, and before you start, yes, I also read romance occasionally.”

“Hmm, and poetry?”

“Sometimes. Any recommendations?”

Astarion tapped a finger on his temple as he thought. “Hang on,” he said and then he disappeared into his tent. He came back carrying two slim tomes. “I found these ones the other day. This,” he said, picking the one with a blue cover, “is about a person’s solitude as the poet walks all by themself through Faerûn. It’s filled with lamentations, descriptions of the land, and other observations about life and death. And this,” he said, showing her the second book, which was brown and unassuming, “is extremely horny.”

Nia took them both from his hands. “So, I’ve got two options for any mood, melancholic or lewd.”

“What other moods are there?”

She chuckled. “Okay, I’ll read them and get back to you.”

On the next evening, Nia came back to his tent, a tome in hand. “Since you’ve shared some of your findings, I’ll give you another book for when you want to rest from reading Tangled Love. This one is about one of my childhood heroes Prince Orpheus, one of my favourite githyanki legends. I hope you like it.”

Soon, they started a book club of sorts. Nia would come to his tent just after dinner and tell him all about her impressions on the poetry books he’d given her.

“Yes, it’s horny but also really heartfelt. And it helps that the descriptions are creative to say the least.”

“Aren’t they? I never thought anyone could describe two individuals fucking from behind in such a beautiful way. I wonder how this poet would describe the bugbear and the ogre’s rutting.”

In turn, Astarion read the book she’d shared with him.

“It wasn’t as boring as I’d thought, but I want something with a little more spice and action.”

“I have something in mind.”

“Please don’t say Tangled Love.”

“I was going to give you the sequel.”

“There’s a sequel?!”

As they read side by side each evening, sitting close to the fire, Astarion felt surprisingly at ease. It nearly made him forget all about his plans to seduce her. Nia was quickly becoming his friend with no pretences. Perhaps if he was open, she’d understand his need for protection. He wouldn’t have the need to use her. But then, the next day, they would all be confronted with more dangers coming their way, and Astarion’s blood would run cold. He eyed her, her shoulders brushing his, and his instincts started to kick in.

“One day, I’m going to read you some of that filthy poetry in your ear and make you blush, darling,” he drawled as seductively as he could.

Her eyelashes fluttered again. “Not if I beat you to it first, dearest,” she said, eyebrows raised in a challenge. “I’m going to read you the entirety of Tangled Love.”

His shocked expression must have been comical, as Nia started laughing so hard, she cried.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Astarion complained, making her chortle even more.

“I promise to be gentle, my precious.”

He sighed. What had he gotten himself into?

Chapter Text

Astarion wasn’t sure why he had grabbed it. They had been exploring some ruins ─what else was new─ when something glinting in the distance caught his eye. Never one to leave treasures behind, he picked it up. It was a silver mirror. Ornate and lavish. Fit for a king’s bedroom. Although most beautiful things were tempting to own, a mirror had no practical use for him. He knew, even before he touched it, that it wouldn’t work. Nevertheless, he took it and placed it inside his bag. It was only once he was in the safety of this tent that he dared to take it out. As expected, try as he might, there was no reflection staring back at him.

Disappointment settled in the pit of his stomach, hard as a rock. He thought that now that he was enjoying this strange freedom thanks to the parasite currently residing behind his eye, he had regained most everything he’d lost. He could be out in the sun again, pass through running water, go into rooms and buildings without being invited. Sure, he still had his sanguine hunger, but since that matter had been sorted out, it didn’t trouble him as much. His reflection, his identity, was the last missing piece. One that he wouldn’t be able to recover, it appeared. He sighed, with unwelcome feelings tumbling inside him like waves.

Astarion heard it, then. Footsteps outside, some rustling as someone opened the tent, and there, reflected in the mirror, came a familiar face. A small head with blonde tresses framing it, hair styled in two top buns and braids, freckles which dusted a straight nose, amethyst eyes sparkling in the candlelight, luscious pink lips, and blonde eyebrows raised in question. He would know that visage anywhere in this realm.

“Looking at something?” Astarion asked Nia, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

She blinked at him in surprise. “How did you know I was here?”

“The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn’t quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you,” he explained, still staring at her through the mirror. Her eyes widened and something akin to pity flashed in them. His stomach churned. “What do you want?”

“I was calling you, and when you didn’t answer, I got worried,” she explained, moving closer to his back. “I wanted to see if you needed more healing potions, I happen to have acquired some more.” When he didn’t reply, she continued. “Were you looking at something?”

He sighed. “Yes, but I’m not seeing very much.” Try as he might, only Nia’s eyes were reflected in the silver mirror.

“Oh,” she mumbled in understanding. “Do you miss it? Seeing your own face?”

That is when he finally turned to look at her with his own eyes, the mirror dropping in his hands. “Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He wondered out loud. “Of course I miss it.” He sounded more crestfallen than he had meant to. It wasn’t in his plans to talk to her, but Nia had arrived at a bad time.

“Might be a small price to pay for a vampire’s power,” she said, no doubt in an attempt to lift his spirits. Not that it had worked.

“To you, maybe. To me it’s just another thing Cazador took. I’ve never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs, and my eyes turned red.” His voice took a melancholic tone. He left his guard down, yet he didn’t regret it. He felt safe. Sort of.

Nia gave him a sad look, as if she understood his feelings. “What colour were they before?” She asked, gazing straight into his scarlet eyes.

“I…” her question startled him. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.” There were many things that had been lost to time. So many details about his life that had vanished from him the night he got turned. His past was mostly blank. Everything he was had slipped away as he had emerged from his tomb, a monster.

She licked her lips. There was understanding in her eyes. “You’re a moon elf, aren’t you? Like me,” she said. He nodded. He knew that much about himself at least. “Then, they might have been blue or green,” she trailed off.

“Or some shade of violet like yours. Hard to know,” he huffed. “Not that it matters. It’s not the only thing I can’t remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past.” He threw the mirror onto the ground, smashing it into a million pieces. “Another thing I’ve lost.”

She reached out to him but stopped before her fingers could touch him. “You’ve nothing to worry about. You have a good face. I like it.” Her voice was soft and a bit timid.

“Is it?” He mumbled. His walls were down, and he craved the reassurance he knew only Nia could give him. He’d seen it before, when she talked to their other companions and dissuaded their fears. “Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?” His voice came out like a sigh.

Instead of answering, Nia got close to him, her face merely inches away from his own.

“What?”

For a second, Astarion thought she might kiss him. Instead, she squinted playfully at him and then pulled back.

“I’ll be your mirror,” she announced. “What do you want to know?”

He considered it for a moment. “I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me.” She nodded. “What you see,” he added, pleading.

She smiled gently. “Strong, piercing eyes.” She moved her hands towards his face. Not touching, but he could almost feel her caress.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, surprised. “Go on…” he smiled, something tender worming its way to his chest and spreading. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d thought.

“That dangerous smile,” she touched her own lips.

“Very good,” he replied. “Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.” He gestured, avoiding her affectionate gaze.

The other elf chuckled. “Is that all you want? Shallow praise?”

“Hardly. There’s also gold, sex, revenge. Quite the list, really,” he replied, his humour uplifted by her words. “But failing any of those, I will always settle for shallow praise.”

Nia shook her head, still smiling. “You never change,” she said fondly.

“I suppose not,” he agreed with her.

“For the record, you are beautiful.” Her voice was soft as the wind carried it to him.

Astarion felt himself fluster, but he shook the feeling away. “Observant, you are.” She giggled at him. “Mirrors aren’t much use, but being reflected in someone else’s eyes? Well, I could do worse.”

They stared at each other, something trickling around them. He felt it crackling, making him shiver. It was too much.

“Well, I better get some beauty sleep,” he coughed. “If I’m to remain as beautiful to you.”

“Astarion,” Nia called him before he could turn away. “You are beautiful, but there’s more to you than just your looks.”

Her words were far too honest. Too sweet. Exactly like she was. He wanted to hate her, he really did. Yet, defeated, he realised he couldn’t. She was much too precious for that.

“Ugh,” he complained. “You’re meant to flatter me, not wax poetic.”

Nia chuckled. “It’s not poetry if it’s true.” That got him speechless. She, then, nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied. “Have a goodnight’s rest,” she said. Giving him one last look, she exited the tent, leaving him with his thoughts.

Astarion picked up the mirror. Somehow the broken glass didn’t hurt him as much as he thought it would.

Chapter Text

Another day, another fight. In her quest to save the tiefling refugees, Nia found out about a conspiracy brewing in the grove. Astarion had to say Kagha’s plan to take over the Emerald Grove and become the First Druid had been brilliant. What a shame that she would have left such obvious evidence out in the open, where a curious and self-righteous elf had found it. That was a rookie mistake. In any case, once the letter detailing Kagha’s scheme with the shadow druids had reached Nia, she’d convinced them all to confront her. Astarion hadn’t wanted to take part in that plan of hers. He wasn’t interested in anything that did not outright benefit him, but he’d come to understand nothing could stop Nia from performing good deeds. He could live with that, he supposed. As long as they were still on track, and on their way to find a cure for the parasites living in their brains, it’d be fine. Or so he hoped. Karlach and Shadowheart had gone with both leaders of the group, expecting the rest of the druids to take care of the rest. Although Nia hadn’t planned to cause a fight, problems followed her wherever she went. The women returned, tunics and armour stained with blood, but all four looked victorious.

“The shadow druids had been hiding in the grove the whole time, and they attacked us,” Nia explained to the rest of the group. “We convinced Kagha to betray them and take our side, and together we defeated the shadow druids. It seems the tieflings will be able to stay in camp while we sort the goblin problem. The ritual has been stopped.”

Wyll and Gale talked excitedly about the turn of events, congratulating their companions. Lae’zel took an opportunity to praise Brunhilde’s efficiency in battle, making the half-orc blush. Astarion raised an eyebrow at that, intrigued. He’d felt for some time that they appeared to have a certain attraction for one another. Whatever it was, it could be useful to him. He walked closely to them, planning to eavesdrop on their conversation, when he was interrupted by Shadowheart approaching Nia. There was something different about the cleric tonight. She sauntered towards their leader, hips moving like a pendulum. All done on purpose to entice. Not that Nia even noticed these little attempts at seduction, bless her. She beamed at her friend like always, greeting her. She didn’t seem to take heed of how Shadowheart’s posture accentuated her lowcut blouse. What is going on? He thought. He pretended to inspect his nails, his pointy ears tuning in to snoop in their conversation.

“That was…interesting,” Shadowheart commented. “There’s never a dull moment with you.”

“What can I say?” Nia said. “It’s my blessing and my curse.”

The cleric giggled girlishly in response. Astarion smirked. He could tell where this was going. And he was aware that Nia didn’t have a clue, oblivious as she was.

“You know, we’ve come a long way since we met,” Shadowheart continued. “And now we’re here, saving others, together.”

Nia laughed. “The things that can be accomplished when we stop arguing,” she said.

“I feel that we’re closer,” the half-elf added after a few moments of silence.

“You know, I can’t help but feel you and I should connect more. Truly connect.”

Astarion did not expect Nia to say that. As inconspicuously as possible, he turned to look at her. He didn’t know what he wanted to see. Blushing cheeks, perhaps. A flirtatious glint in her eyes. Yet, nothing of the sort could be found on her face. The elf was genuinely smiling. With abject fascination, he realized Shadowheart was reading her all wrong.

“I think I know what you mean. There's an undeniable rapport, and yet we haven't made time for each other. Time alone,” the half-elf replied, the hidden meaning of her words not that veiled. At least for him.

Nia nodded. “We should find a place away, well, away from this,” she said, gesturing to the camp.

“Easily remedied, if you like. I know a place,” Shadowheart said, eagerly. “We could steal away one of these nights, when everyone is asleep.”

“Sounds like a plan,” the wizard agreed with a smile.

“Great! I’ll come for you when it’s time.”

With that, Shadowheart left and went back to her tent, a pleased smile on her lips.

Astarion almost barked out a laugh. He didn’t, though. He didn’t want to attract unwanted attention to himself. That was a rather amusing turn of events. Not that he was worried. There was not even an ounce of attraction coming from Nia’s way. What sounded like flirting to Shadowheart was friendliness to Nia. Perhaps his elven friend had no experiences with women. Or maybe Shadowheart had been too imperceptible in her ways. He could tell, but he wagered most couldn’t. There was the secret third option, which Astarion had considered for himself before. Nia acted ignorant on purpose, because she was simply playing hard to get. He’d come to believe it from time to time. It was painfully glaring that he wasn’t the only one pursuing her, although the others’ tactics were more subdued than his own. So far, he’d been the only one to make her blush. An achievement in its own right. However, he had wondered if his companions would ever raise the stakes. Shadowheart had tonight. Maybe it was time to hasten his plans, he thought.

“Well?” He was so deep in thought he got startled by a sweet voice. Looking up, he saw Nia in all her glory, sitting beside him by the fire.

“Well, what?” He asked, feigning indifference. His brows furrowed, trying to decipher what she wanted and if she’d noticed his spying on them.

“Aren’t you going to scold me? No ‘Darling, don’t play hero,’ ‘Darling, I severely disapprove of your good actions,’ ‘Darling, kill her, don’t ask her to join you,’ ‘Darling, you’re wasting perfectly good blood’?” She said, deepening her voice in an attempt to imitate his. The result was rather humorous. Though he had to admit, Nia got his accent right.

Astarion snorted. “I think we’re well past that. I know now that when an idea makes its way into your pretty little head, you can’t be convinced to do the opposite,” he explained. “It’s one of your most obnoxious and endearing traits, my dear.”

“I knew you liked me deep down in here,” she pointed to the general direction of his chest, grinning at him.

He scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that, darling.”

She chuckled. Then, she offered him a goblet. “Drink with me, it’s just water though.”

Astarion accepted, taking the goblet from her hand, his cold fingers touching her warm ones, making her shiver. “It shall be my pleasure.” He raised the goblet. “To you, my darling, for another success at being the grove’s hero.”

The goblets clanked as they toasted. The cold water hit Astarion’s throat. He half-wished it was Nia’s blood instead. Or at least some wine.

She stayed to talk to him, retelling the events of the day. Her eyes shone as she told him how the fight had gone down. He absorbed her words, the tiniest bit of interest sparking up as she mentioned the bloodshed. Once or twice, he laughed, her descriptions vivid and engaging. It was as if he’d been there. He liked this, whatever it was, he thought. She didn’t need to ask him to a secluded place to connect with him like with Shadowheart. She sought him. She wanted to talk to him, with no expectations of late-night encounters.

Nia was so close he could smell the sweat and the blood on her, still present despite her bathing. He found he didn’t dislike the scent. Her hair was messy, and his fingers twitched, craving to push the strands away from her face. His eyes fell to her lips. He could kiss her if he wanted to, Astarion thought with a jolt. He wondered if she’d reject him, or if she’d like to be kissed in front of all their companions, in front of Shadowheart, claimed as his. In times past, he would have attempted such a feat. Not anymore. He wanted to seduce her, little by little, until all she could see was him. It would take some patience, but at the rate they were going, he was sure no cure would be found soon. He had all the time needed for his plan to succeed. He wasn’t intimidated by his companions. Astarion knew they wouldn’t get her. And even if they did, all he had to do was whisk her away. Although his plans fluttered in the back of his mind, he ignored them. In the meantime, he drank the cold water, which did nothing to calm his thirst, and listened to the rest of her story with honest enjoyment. The spell they were in was, ironically, broken by the other wizard in the group, who hummed sadly in the background. As her tale ended, she wished him goodnight and stood up, heading towards Gale’s tent.

The wizard had been trying to get Nia’s attention all evening. The annoying man’s advances, however, had been rejected in favour of Shadowheart. Dejected, he had retreated to his tent. Astarion assumed Nia felt bad about it and wanted to talk to him in case there was something of interest Gale wished to say. A big part of Astarion was elated she’d decided to talk to him first. It seemed in her list of priorities he came before Gale. On the other hand, he felt… troubled. Not worried, but something else. Shadowheart had made her move, so who was to say Gale wouldn’t try it too, tonight of all nights? Thankfully, Astarion had set up his tent next to Gale’s, a means to get a rise out of the man. As predicted, the wizard had grumbled when he’d noticed. It was one of the little pleasures Astarion could get in these blasted woods. Now, it would seem this closeness would come in handy.

As quietly as he could, he sneaked towards Gale’s tent. He peered from behind the fabric of the canopy, following Nia. On the other side, he found the wizard playing with his magic. He formed the face of a woman on his palm, the blue magic reflecting the moonlight. She was beautiful, Astarion mused. Otherworldly.

“Pretty,” Nia said, disturbing the wizard. The illusion faded as Gale turned to look at her. “Who was that?”

“Oh!” He yelped. “My, you startled me. I…I was miles away,” he replied, clearly embarrassed.

“Was that Mystra?” Nia tried again. Astarion frowned. Mystra, he thought, as in the goddess? Why in the nine hells would Gale be mournfully staring at a goddess’ face?

“No, erm, of course not!” Gale denied.

Nia raised a singular blonde eyebrow in her all-knowing way. It was a tad comical seeing that expression directed at someone that wasn’t him for a change. “Really, Gale? I thought we were going to be truthful to each other from now on.”

The man sighed, a sorrowful expression on his face. “I was just pondering what I lost.”

That gained him Nia’s compassionate look, one Astarion had seen several times before. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “What did our goddess do?”

Gale shook his head. “Nothing,” he said far too quickly to be credible. “It’s just… she’s Mystra. I can’t quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her. To draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. No sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies: the Weave. Mystra is all magic. And as far as I’m concerned, she is all creation.”

As he spoke with devotion, his ears turned pink and his eyes glimmered. There was something off about the way he talked about the goddess, Astarion thought. Not even their resident cleric talked about Lady Shar in such a way.

“You sound like a smitten schoolboy,” Nia replied and Astarion couldn’t help but agree. Despite her teasing tone, he noted that her expression concealed worry. That was odd. Gale sputtered, the pink of his ears spreading to his cheeks. “But that doesn’t answer my question. What’s wrong?”

Gale sighed. “As you know, Mystra commands all magic. Salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold. And yet, even now, more than I fear losing my own self and soul, I fear losing my command of her art.”

“You won’t lose it, Gale,” she said. “You’re too achieved in magic to lose it completely.”

“Oh, you don’t understand. You’re an elf! You were born knowing how to manipulate the Weave. Even if you weren’t a wizard, you’d still know how to do it. It’s different for me. I’m a human.”

Nia did not respond to that. Instead, she sat on the ground and patted the spot next to her. “Then tell me.”

Gale joined her. “Magic is…my life,” he said with utter devotion. “I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. I don’t know why I was given this gift. But there’s nothing like it. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty, all rolled into one and given expression to the senses.”

Astarion heard the wizard with a bored expression on his face. Give it to Gale to be dramatic about magic. He wasn’t wrong about elves, though. Even he knew how to cast a few spells. Not that he cared. Magic hadn’t saved him from Cazador. It was just a nice little trick to use when the rest of his abilities failed him.

“Is it the same for you?”

Nia pondered it for a moment. “It’s… as easy as breathing. I can’t see myself not using it, much less living without it. It’s an art in and of itself. One I will hone my whole life, like my elven brethren have done before me,” she explained.

Gale nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes.”

“Though I fear my feelings about it are not quite as intense as yours,” she teased.

“Perhaps I can show you what I mean by reaching into the Weave together.”

“Hmm, sounds interesting,” Nia replied. “By all means.”

“Then follow my lead.”

Astarion watched as both wizards got up and walked until there was a good space between them and Gale’s tent. Gale gestured with his hands in a way Astarion couldn’t understand. Blue light appeared from his fingertips. Magic. Astarion felt its reach even from where he stood. It called to him. Nia observed the demonstration with a small smile on her face.

“Now you,” Gale said, motioning for her to replicate his gestures.

She did so with ease. Astarion gasped as he saw her wielding magic. Gale might have been an archmage, but Nia breathed and lived magic. It was a pleasure to see her guide it with her fingertips. Gale must have thought the same, as he encouraged Nia to chant a spell with him. Suddenly, the two wizards were surrounded by more magic. Astarion instinctively knew what it was. A sliver of the Weave. It felt peaceful at first. Yet, the vampire could sense a sensuality about it, trickling down his hands. If it felt like this from a distance, he couldn’t imagine how potent the sensation was up close. Gale appeared to feel it too. He stood close to Nia; their faces so close they could’ve kissed. Astarion waited, dread settling in his stomach. Nia broke away, smiling as she touched the magic around them.

“Look, we’re channelling the Weave. How does it feel?”

“Incredible,” Nia said. “Sensual even. Though of course I could’ve managed it by myself, you know?” Her tone was playful, not biting.

“You’re hard to please, aren’t you?”

Oh, Gale had no idea.

Astarion glared at the pair. Why was it Nia seemed to be so enchanted by her fellow wizard? She never looked like she had as much fun with him. Astarion resented that.

As the magic flowed around them, there was a sense of anticipation in the air. He felt that something was about to happen. Nevertheless, just before it could, Nia let it, and the magic, fade away. Astarion sighed in relief.

“Goodnight, Gale,” she said walking towards her own tent when all was said and done.

“Goodnight,” the other wizard answered, with a hint of disappointment.

Astarion cheered internally. She’d rejected the wizard. Not in so many words, but her actions were clear. At least to him. However, he couldn’t help but wonder why. Gale was more suited for her than anyone else, in some ways. Both wizards, bookworms and with a penchant for kindness. He would never use her, Astarion thought with a grimace. Or hurt her. The thought wouldn’t leave his mind, so he prowled on her until he intercepted her before she could reach her tent.

“Astarion,” she panted. “You scared me.”

“So, I saw you with the wizard,” he said, trying to appear unbothered. “What as that about?”

Nia had the decency to fluster. “Oh? You saw that?”

“Hard not to when my tent is right next to his.”

“We were just channelling the Weave,” she replied. She looked timid, unsure.

“Is that what you wizards call a romantic rendezvous?” He said, irony dripping in his voice.

She quickly shook her head. “No, it was just magic.”

“Magic?” He said out loud.

“In the very literal sense.”

Astarion was not convinced. “You surely felt something, darling. Even I sensed the…eroticism surrounding you.”

He had expected Nia to redden even more, to deny it. She frowned instead. “I felt it. Though it wasn’t…” she moved her head, as if dispelling unwanted thoughts. “It wasn’t coming from me. I felt like I was experiencing someone else’s emotions, and the Weave was just the conduit.”

“Gale’s?”

She pursued her lips. “There’s something I don’t like going on with Gale.”

That took Astarion back. “What do you mean? Is it his condition?”

“Did you hear everything he said? About Mystra?” She whispered.

“He seems to be more devoted to his goddess than the cleric. Why?”

“Although Mystra is…as important to us as our parents, in the sense of the use of magic, the way Gale spoke about her made me think that he was describing…” she trailed off.

“A mother?”

“His lover,” she declared. There was finality in the way Nia spoke.

Astarion laughed. “So, he gets off at the thought of a beautiful goddess. He’d hardly be the first.”

“You don’t understand, Astarion. That’s taboo for us wizards.”

“Pfft. It must mean nothing. Gale’s just too dramatic, even when describing a goddess.”

“If you say so,” she said. “Anyway, it’s time for us to get to bed. Do you need to feed tonight?”

They had reached an arrangement that every few days, Astarion was invited to drink from her, to keep strong, of course.

He shook his head. “You had quite an adventure today, my dear. I’d hate to weaken you,” he said.

Nia smiled and then left for her tent.

The evening had left Astarion reeling. He didn’t think he was at risk of losing Nia to their companions, despite their best efforts. And yet, there was something that made him feel restless. Beyond his companions’ attempts to romance Nia, there was something else he couldn’t quite put his finger to.

The next few days would reveal that Nia, in fact, had been right about her suspicions. When the artifacts stopped working on Gale, their magic not having the desired effects, the wizard decided it was time he came clean to the group. As it turned out, Gale of Waterdeep was such a magic prodigy, he’d become Mystra’s lover.

“Are you telling me you made love to a goddess?” Nia asked with a scoff.

“Oh, yes,” was Gale’s proud reply.

“That’s taboo for our kind,” she said tersely. The same words she’d said to Astarion previously.

“We were companions, Nia. It was beyond what you may think. We just… enjoyed each other’s company. Body and soul,” he smiled reassuringly at her. “But even so, I desired more.”

Astarion was perplexed to discover he and the wizard had more in common than he’d thought. The vampire had his own ambitions. His were all about revenge and freedom, but he could accept he craved more than the hand he’d been dealt with. Gale, who seemed to have it all, wanted things he couldn’t reach. It had been his undoing. Now, there was a black orb stuck on his chest, consuming him. All for the ill-fated attempt to become as close to a god as a mortal could. Even Astarion, with all his contempt for the wizard, couldn’t stop himself from pitying him. His sympathies ended, however, when he learnt Gale could blow them up into oblivion. Of course, Nia, in her never-ending kindness, let him stay and proposed to find a cure for him. At this point, Astarion had expected it, so he did not care to fight her on her decision. It was Lae’zel who complained and threatened to get rid of the wizard if he so much as twitched.

Still, he realized Nia was tense. Past her charity, he saw the flames of anger behind her eyes. Most intriguing, he thought. Perhaps she wasn’t as saintly as he’d believed.

He found her later that night, throwing rocks at the nearby lake.

“It seems your instincts were correct, darling,” he greeted her.

Nia turned to look at him as if to acknowledge him. Then, she turned back to the lake. “He’s a fool,” she said as she threw another pebble. “To think he wanted to follow into Karsus’ footsteps.”

“Karsus? The Lord of Netheril?” Astarion asked.

“Yes. Every wizard knows that Mystra’s powers cannot be contained. Even the most remarkable wizard isn’t close to Mystra’s might. The tale of Karsus reminds us why we can never go to such lengths. Gale was an idiot, and because of his folly, we could all be doomed.”

Oh, so she was infuriated by his recklessness. Astarion had never seen her like this.

“Well, you told me so before, ‘love makes us all stupid’, isn’t that right?”

Nia turned around to look at him. “Was it love or ambition?” She wondered.

“In the eyes of a man, they can be interchangeable,” he shrugged.

“I suppose you’re right.”

They stayed in silence for a few seconds, staring at each other.

“But is that all that’s worrying you, darling? The high chance of Gale exploding and taking us all with him? Or is there something else?” He sashayed over to her, until they were face to face.

“What do you mean?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t know… aren’t you a little jealous?” He asked what he’d been dying to know.

“Jealous?” She repeated. “Perhaps you’re right. I’ve lived longer than Gale has and he’s a much better wizard than I am. I doubt Mystra herself would ever appear in front of me. Much less become my tutor. Being Mystra’s Chosen is but a dream to me. As far away as a shooting star,” she said, as she pointed at the darkening sky.

Astarion snorted. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, are you upset at Gale because he bedded Mystra, your goddess?”

He waited for Nia to flush. She didn’t. “I told you; it’s taboo for our kind,” she explained with a shrug.

“Yes, yes, you’ve made that perfectly clear. But what about your feelings? Does it upset you that his former lover is a goddess?” He pressed.

She rolled her eyes. “Why would that bother me?”

“Oh, don’t try and fool me. I saw how you looked at him when you were doing parlour tricks,” he accused her. “If you feel insecure, don’t be. I’ve never bedded a god myself, but I assure you, you’re as beautiful as one.”

Nia faltered. “I… it does bother me,” she said at last. “But not because I harbour any feelings for Gale.”

Astarion blinked. He’d wished for her to say so, yet he hadn’t thought she’d be so direct about it. “I thought you liked him.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Gale is nice. He’s kind and he knows a lot. I have fun talking to him. And it helps he’s not bad to look at either. In another life, he might have been my type.”

“I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

“But he’s my friend. Nothing more. I can’t see him as more. Gale is the type that wants to be loved and cherished. And he’s not over Mystra. I mean, would a mortal ever compare to a literal goddess?”

“If that mortal was you, then yes,” he unabashedly flirted with her, his fingers lingering on the pink strands of hair which framed her face.

She blushed this time at his words. “Oh, don’t tease me.”

He pulled his fingers away. “Fine. So, what you’re saying is, that you don’t find Gale attractive because he’s too needy?”

“I know he likes me… sort of. However, I cannot possibly encourage his advances because I don’t want any of that.” Her voice was so sure of itself it made Astarion raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“What? You don’t want to be loved and cherished?” He asked.

“Of course I do,” she replied. “Everyone wants that. I just don’t want to give love. I’m not good at that.”

“Is that why you’ve been single for the last five years?” He wondered, remembering their earlier conversation about lovers.

Her lips were set in a firm line, eyes boring into his. “Yes.”

That was not what Astarion had been expecting. To think someone as kind and devoted to goodness would be incapable of love. But love wasn’t something he could or wished to offer. It was pleasure. Sex. And though he was sure that for more stable individuals, the two were interconnected, they were clearly separated in his mind. The problem was if they were distinct things for Nia.

“And what would manage to break that celibacy of yours?” He asked, gesticulating between the two.

“Something fun,” she said nonchalantly, waving him off. “No strings attached.”

He grinned.

That he could do.

“You know,” he purred, as he reduced the distance between them. Their chests so close they almost brushed against each other. “I can be fun.”

She smiled. “Although I’m sure you’re exceptional company, I’m not interested.”  She pushed him back.

He pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Goodnight, Astarion.” With that, she left him to his thoughts.

“You might not be interested now, my pretty darling, but when I’m done with you, you’ll come back begging me for more,” Astarion said into the night.

He would succeed where the others had failed.

That was his vow.

Chapter Text

Astarion whined.

He would never act so unrefined, mind you, but the dire situation at hand had pushed him over the edge. His hair. His beautiful white tresses were ruined. Gunk clung to it desperately, like a lover’s embrace. Tried as he might, he couldn’t get the chunks off it. Blood, grime, cobwebs, acid, and hells knew what else, covered his head. He could feel it as he tried to comb through each strand with his fingers. He cursed his vampiric body. Astarion would give up anything in this world if it meant he could see his own reflection and get rid of this fucking filth. He threw the rag he’d been using to clean himself on the ground. He started to hyperventilate, a string of curses leaving his lips as he tugged at his silver tresses.

“Astarion?” Someone said from behind him.

He immediately turned around, pupils dilated as his eyes narrowed on the figure standing there.

“You,” he spat. It came out like the nastiest of swears.

Before him stood the person responsible for his misery.

“What’s going on?” Nia asked dumbly with her dumb face. Oh, how he loathed her. If he hadn’t needed her, he might have pounced and ripped her throat out.

Alright.

Perhaps he was overreacting, but, at the moment, the wizardry elf was persona non grata in his book.

“Go away,” he shooed at her with a hand motion. He didn’t have any patience for her kindness today.

“What are you doing?” She tried again, ignoring the obvious signs that he wanted to be left alone.

“What does it look like I’m doing, you stupid buffoon?” He insulted her. “I’m trying to fix my hair, which you ruined.”

Nia visibly winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, yes. Apologising will surely help us go back in time so I can stop you from going into that cave. Or stop myself from following your idiotic ideas.”

It had been entirely her fault.

Let’s go into that cave, she’d said.

It must have treasure, she’d claimed.

Come on, Astarion, it won’t be so bad.

If by “not bad” she meant fighting off a ginormous spider and all her babies in a narrow cavern, he would hate to know what her idea of bad was. Alas, that is exactly what happened. Brunhilde, Lae’zel and him followed Nia into that blasted cave as they explored the Blighted Village. They were looking for more provisions, as things were still tense at the Emerald Grove after Kagha’s betrayal. They still hadn’t found Halsin, their First Druid, and every time they visited the grove, they were asked about it. Astarion hated all that. The druids should have been thankful Nia had even tried to help after all. No matter, they needed coin most of all. Somehow, Nia had gotten it stuck in her head that the caves around the village held treasure. To be fair, it’d been a good guess. If Astarion had wanted to bury gold, he would’ve chosen such a place. What none of them had expected was for the caves to be infested with spiders.

They’d gotten separated, as per Brunhilde’s request. She’d said they could explore more ground by splitting into two groups. Which left him with Nia. They usually paired up, not that Astarion minded. It helped with his plan to become closer to her. But, oh, he so wished he’d gone with Brunhilde and Lae’zel instead. As they’d walked in the total darkness of the cave, their dark vision barely helping, they stumbled headfirst upon an enormous egg sack. As it turned out, the mother hadn’t been far from there, for she ambushed them, screeching and vomiting acid on them. Her screech awakened her spawn, who immediately attacked. What followed was a tumultuous fight which involved different fluids being thrown at them. Yes, they had defeated the spiders at the end and had survived to tell the tale. However, the price to pay had been that of their cleanliness. The worst part was all they found were several journals, a pair of boots, robes which Nia had taken for herself, and an amethyst that looked like it could fit on a crevice somewhere. And all Astarion got was dirty hair.

He'd already bathed in the lake. He’d been the first too. Although he’d been as thorough as possible while scrubbing, he could still feel all the grime on his body. His hair was still slimy. It made him gag. Call him overdramatic, but he wanted to cry. His looks were the only thing that was his, even if he couldn’t see his reflection. It was part of his identity. Who was he if he wasn’t beautiful and elegant and clean and poised? Not Astarion, I’ll tell you that.

“Do you want any help?” Nia asked as he kept tugging at his precious curls.

“Don’t you think you’ve helped enough?” He countered, venom dripping from his voice.

To make matters worse, Nia’s damp hair was completely clean. There was not even a dust speck on it. He growled at her.

“Look, it’s okay if you’re angry at me─”

“I’m not angry, I’m furious─”

“─and I understand you don’t want to be around me right now. But, please, at least allow me to help you.”

He crossed his arms and refused to look at her.

“I can see where all the dirt is, you know?” She said with a small sigh.

Astarion struggled with himself. On the one hand, all he wanted to do was curse Nia to all the nine hells and throw her back in the caves. On the other, the less vindictive and more practical side of himself was begging him to see reason. Nia could see and help him wash away all the filth, it argued. Then, his hair would be restored to its former glory, and he could go back to being his beautiful, enchanting self. Nonetheless, the thought of getting revenge was too tempting.

Ah, alright. Screw it.

“Fine,” he agreed. “But if you ruin my hair, I will ruin you.”

Despite his words, Nia grinned at him like a fool.

“You won’t regret it.”

Oh, he was regretting it already.

“Wait here.”

She went to her tent, presumably to get some tools. Astarion remained on his stool outside his tent, miserably brushing through his locks. He must have been such a pitiful sight. He groaned, equal parts frustrated and embarrassed. Minutes later Nia returned with a basin filled with water, soap, another rag, and a comb ─hers he wagered, as he could spot a few blonde and pink hair strands tangled on the bristles.

“I’m going to wash your hair and then I’ll comb out any dirt on it. Sounds good?” She asked as she positioned herself behind him.

“Do whatever you must.” He waved her off with a hand motion, as he glared at the ground.

He expected her to start. She reached out for his head, only to hesitate on the next second, her breath hitching.

“What?” He asked, turning around to look at her. He feared she’d seen something unsightly on his hair. He became even more self-conscious. He searched her eyes, seeing the apprehension in them.

“Nothing. It’s just… can I touch your hair?”

Astarion blinked once. Then twice.

“Are you an idiot? Of course you can touch my hair. You’re here to clean it, aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” she muttered, voice soft. “It’s just last time Brunhilde tried to take a leaf out of your hair, you jumped so high you almost hit your head on a tree branch. Then, you hissed at her like a grumpy cat.”

Oh right. He remembered that day. They had been trekking the Sunlit Wetlands for what felt like hours. He’d been tired and prissy, he could admit that, when suddenly, he felt a hand on his hair. Immediately, memories of Cazador pulling at his head filled him. His instincts kicked in, and all he wanted to do was run away from there. He realised too late the half-orc had only been trying to help. He shook the memory away.

Astarion crossed his arms and pouted. “I don’t like to be surprised or touched without my permission.”

“I understand that, which is why I asked.”

Her gesture was kind enough, he felt he could let his walls down. “You can touch, comb, wash and dry my hair until it’s cleaned from all that filth. I will allow you the honour for today.”

“Got it,” Nia answered and went to work.

She carefully scooped a bit of water with a cup and wetted his hair. The water was warm against his scalp. With a flutter, Astarion’s mind registered she’d probably warmed it beforehand. He couldn’t ponder too much on that, because she started scrubbing his mane with soap. Her fingers were delicate. She scratched at him with gentle, soft motions that had him closing his eyes in enjoyment. Now he understood why the mutt followed Nia all throughout camp for a pet. The vampire let out a sigh in contentment. He heard giggles behind him.

“Why are you laughing?” He asked, opening a single eye.

“You really are a cat.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Cats are majestic, wondrous creatures.”

She hummed. “When I was a child, we used to have a big fat cat,” she mentioned as she worked. Astarion made a noncommittal noise for her to keep going. “He hated all my attempts to play with him, but he did love sleeping in with me. He purred so loudly I immediately fell back asleep. My father had to pull me out of bed every morning to have breakfast and get to my lessons.”

“I have a feeling you were a menace of a child.”

She laughed. “I very much was,” she replied as she washed the soap from his hair. “I miss that cat. He used to find the perfect sunspot on our garden, and he lay there for hours. He only came back inside for pets and food.”

“Smart cat,” Astarion commented.

“That he was.”

Once she was satisfied with her work, Nia used the rag to dry the excess water on his forehead. She patted his skin with light motions, so delicately he found himself falling asleep. Then, she abruptly stopped, waking him up from his short slumber. Astarion opened his eyes to find her in front of him.

“I’m going to start combing your hair now. Tell me if I pull too hard.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I do like a good hair pulling,” he said, giving her a wolfish grin.

She chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

She hovered over him, her fingers gathering a few strands of hair and then combing through them. She stopped to get rid of the guck on it and went back at it. She was so close he could smell the soap in her, hear the beating of heart, feel her warmth. But that’s not what caught Astarion’s attention. Her breasts were at eye level. They were, of course, fully covered by her robe. They always were, annoyingly so. Before feeding on her, he hadn’t paid them much mind. Since then, however, he constantly glanced at them. He idly wondered what they looked like. He’d seen many breasts of all sizes in all his time bringing victims to Cazador’s lair. Though, he’d seen them all, somehow, he found himself feeling curious about hers. Would they be as soft as he imagined? He could almost feel the weight of them in his palm.

“You’re quiet,” Nia said. “That’s odd for you.”

“Just enjoying the view, my dear,” he said, voice sultry, as his eyes never left her chest.

She slapped his shoulder. It wasn’t hard. Playful would be the best word to describe it. “Eyes on my face, magistrate.”

“That is also a rather wonderful view, wouldn’t you agree?” He said, turning to look at her.

She had the decency to become flustered. “I’m already helping you. You don’t need to turn up the flattery.”

“But it’s so fun seeing how your skin turns pink. It goes well with your eyes.”

She laughed, shaking her head lightly. She moved to his back again, revealing the view of the camp. Most of their companions were staring at them with raised eyebrows and amused grins. Gale, however, was glaring at him. Astarion gave him a triumphant smirk, leaning his head against Nia’s chest. She didn’t move or push him away. The wizard scoffed and went inside his tent. He’d take that as a victory after Gale’s stunt with the Weave the other day. Just then, he noticed that Nia was humming something under her breath. It sounded familiar.

“What is that, darling?” He asked.

She stopped her combing. “Oh, it’s just an old elven lullaby my mother used to sing,” she said, tone shy.

“I want to hear it.”

Astarion wasn’t sure why he’d asked her that, but she complied. She started singing a little louder, for his ears only. He heard her sing in their native Elvish. He realised he didn’t recognise most words after not using them for two hundred years. Though the thought was depressing ─it was another piece of his identity he’d lost─ he felt strangely comforted by the melody. Nia’s voice was lovely if unsure. Relaxing. He closed his eyes as she combed his hair. He soon dozed off. His mind conjured images of a woman. He couldn’t see her face, yet he knew she was beautiful. Her hands were soft as they ran her fingers through his hair. She sang the same lullaby to him. “I love you, Astarion,” she said before kissing his forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

He opened his eyes. The dying light of the sun painting the world around him in oranges and pinks. Nia was still humming behind him, her hands gently running through his hair.

“I’m all done,” she announced. Astarion had a feeling she’d waited until he was awake to say that. “I’m not sure how to style it though,” she added. “I don’t understand how you can make your hair look perfect without a mirror.”

“I’m a man of many talents, my dear,” he said. He reached to feel his hair and found that, although it was slightly damp, it was soft to the touch and, more importantly, clean. A true smile blossomed on his face, his anxiety reducing until it vanished. “Thank you,” he said, looking for Nia’s eyes. He noticed his words and bit his lip. “Ah, I mean, you didn’t have to.”

She beamed at him. “Consider it my apology for being careless today.”

He nodded. “Well, if your career as a wizard ever grows stale, now you know you could work as a beautician.”

“In that case, I’ll call you for free advertisement.”

They chuckled together. Nia picked up the basin with the now dirty water, the rag and comb. Astarion reached for his own brush and started styling his hair. Decades of practice making his motions fluid. Nia stared at him until he had finished. Her cheeks were a bit pink, but it may have been a trick of the light.

 “Sorry again,” she said.

“Stop apologising, darling. It’s water under the bridge.”

“Right. Then, goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight,” he said. “Nia.” He added her name as an afterthought. Her eyes widened for a moment. She recovered and, with one last smile, she disappeared into her tent.

Astarion sighed, content and satisfied. All was well in his world again.

“What are you looking at?” He said, glaring at Wyll and Karlach who were snickering and throwing glances his way.

“Nothing, nothing, my lad,” Wyll replied. “We’re just making a little bet.”

“If it’s against Gale, I’d like to join in.”

His words made the pair laugh louder.