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[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 8

Summary: "That drow. That damned drow. She was surely plotting something, trying to ruin him in some way, through her pleasantries. It was just in her nature." Doubt creeps in Astarion's mind about his travelling companion. And yet he cannot stop caring. Why does it hurt so much to be betrayed from her? And what if, maybe, he should trust her after all? Why else would she defend him when so close to victory?

A/N: This chapter and the next (probably next 2) are going to be from Astarion's POV. I wanted to experiment with his side of the story and show what he might be feeling (or at least how I HC what he feels)

But, I want to say that I will take a longer break from publishing this fanfic. I want to highlight that it is not over and will keep posting, but I just need a bit of time. I broke up with my long time partner and the thought of romance just makes me feel bad. He was also my beta reader, so that's a problem I'll have to sort somehow lol. anyway, hope you're liking it so far. Let me know what you think.

Read on AO3

(I like the idea of him having golden eyes when alive)

Astarion’s eyes darted through the bushes, following the patch of brown fur hiding among the foliage. His steps were light on the soft ground, so that he was able to get close to the animal. It raised its nose, smelling his presence in the wind, but it was already too late. With a jump, the vampire grabbed both ears of the rabbit. The little beast screeched and kicked upwards to escape, flailing until… a twist. Its body limp and the neck dislocated. Without wasting a second, the vampire bit the rabbit; its little heart pumped its precious blood into his mouth. 

The taste was horrible, wild and muddy, like stale bread. His heart and gut were ignited by agony. The red liquid poured into his mouth and down his throat and he waited for the fire to subsize, for each laceration of his viscera to close, but the respite that came was so miniscule, a balm that only slowed, not stopped the erosion of his insides.

The elf threw the carcass to the ground, swiping his chin with the back of his hand. This was the third animal he ate that evening. By all accounts he should have been full. Gods, he used to drink dead rats and insects, these rabbits would have been a glorious feast just a few weeks ago. But now he wanted more. He was eager for sweetness, to share a soul and feel it slip under his fangs, not to pluck fur from in between his teeth while walking back to camp. 

That drow had absolutely ruined him. 

Everytime a drop of her blood was spilled, his senses couldn’t help but flare up, his stomach churn and growl and his fingers twitch in anticipation. He wanted her neck so badly, to bite into that soft warm flesh and take all for himself, everything he had missed in two hundred years of undeath. It smelled of gracious elven blood, but with deep, dark notes of moss. Cool like an underground lake, yet fiery and violent like lava. Abyssal and chaotic, losing his mind in a spiral that forced him down towards her.

He let out a sigh as his knees almost went limp, reminiscing of that glorious taste. 

He reached the safety of their camp, back in the wilderness and his eyes couldn’t help but fall on Leeith: she was laying down near the fire with Karlach, Shadowheart hovering over them: both of their feet had been badly mangled by traps hidden below the mud of the swamp. It looked like such a peaceful lakeside forest, until the illusion vanished and all that was left was rotting wood and, well, traps that neither of them noticed. They were forced to cut the day short and return to camp. Lae’zel and Wyll were in charge of finding food and preparing their camp. 

He caught a whiff of that delicious honey, and the flame in his heart rose again, opening his wounds. He was hungry again. 

But everything was lost.

It took all his might to ignore them and hide in the safety of his little tent. 

All and all, it was a cosy little space: it was cramped and dark, littered with old dirty jars. The smell of old blood filled his nostrils and, even if it was almost putrid, it was welcome: at least the disgust pushed away the longing for better food. What a beautiful ambience!

In the dark, he took off his cumbersome gambeson and heavy boots, changing them for soft leather shoes and his clean shirt. Astarion's hands smoothed out the fabric over his chest, picking a leaf or two out of the threads and checking his trousers for any stain. Surely he looked perfect as always, didn't even need a mirror to know he was astonishingly handsome and his hair was set up perfectly. His face with his… lips? What shape were they again? He traced a finger over them, feeling the little incave in the middle and how strong the curvature was. He imprinted it into his mind, or at least tried to see it. It didn't matter, he knew his lips were hardly his best feature, surely his eyes were much more important, with perfect eyebrows and long eyelashes, surely. He passed a finger over them, but it was no use. 

He couldn't see it. He couldn't remember his face at all. He reached for a little mirror, thrown carelessly under his bedroll: there he was. Or should have been. Understandable, his tent was extremely dark, he just needed to step foot outside, feel the torchlight shine in his eyes, raise the mirror again and… still nothing. He stared into the mirror more, to catch even a glimpse of his forsaken and forgotten eyes. All was truly lost. Even the tadpole couldn't give back himself.

Like clockwork, there she was, walking towards him, less spring in her step, but still gracious and inviting. It was time for their evening conversation, apparently; everyday, a little bit of time they would carve for one another. It was almost pleasurable.

The vampire's heart twisted and burnt again, his hunger yet again demanded to be satisfied. It could have been so easy to ask for blood from the drow, but could he pay the price? If one single thing was true about her, is that nothing of hers was free. Surely he could have asked for blood or help with the necromancer's tome or a number of other things, but what was the cost going to be? Sex he could give, but to be bound to her forever, like she asked the night prior? Switch a master for another? Unthinkable. 

She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him with those deep red eyes. They probably were the same colour as his, if he had to guess.

“Looking at something?” He met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. The drow's expression was just plain.

“Just looking. What are you doing?” She raised an eyebrow, motioning at the empty mirror.

“I'm looking too, but not seeing very much. Another quirk of my… affliction.” Leeith gave an understanding nod, still standing behind him. She knew of his little reflection problem already, so his answer wasn't surprising.

“Do you miss it? Looking at your face��� Such a sweet and understanding voice, it almost made him believe she did care about his sorry carcass. Astarion turned around to face her, wearing a little snobbish grin.

“Preening in the looking glass? Petty vanity? Of course I miss it. I've never even seen this face, not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.” The drow nodded, mentioning something about how right he was. The vampire had a quip ready, but…

“What colour were they before?” The question surprised him. He stopped, focusing on his own image as the smile died from his lips. How could this stupid dark elf always make him drop his act and reach under his skin.

“I- I don't know. I can't remember. My face is just some dark shape in the past.” Bile and anger rose in him. How could he forget his own appearance? What use was freedom, when he still couldn't have back the most basic part of himself. “Another thing I've lost.” He smashed the hand mirror on the ground: useless trinket.

Leeith jolted back a bit, out of the way of the sharp shards. Her hand twitched upwards, maybe wanting to reassure him, while the vampire just stared at her. She stopped, running her eyes all around his face and body.

“What?” Said Astarion, confused by her sudden inquisitiveness.

“I'll be your mirror. What do you want to know?” She was warm, so unbecoming of a creature of the underdark. 

“And what do you see exactly?” His lips said against his will. How could this stupid dark elf always make him feel welcome and worthy of companionship.

She squinted. “Strong piercing eyes.” Mh, yes, of course: his eyes were always quite spectacular.

“Oh, go on” The vampire smiled, basking in compliments.

“That dangerous smile.” Apparently Leeith was a connoisseur of quality. His heart swelled with pride.

“Very good. Now tell me I'm beautiful and we can call it a day.” The vampire raised his chin and closed his eyes, posing like a great statue.

“Is that all you want? Shallow praise?” She mocked whilst chuckling, making Astarion raise an eyebrow.

“Hardly. There's also gold, sex, revenge. Quite the list, really. But failing any of those, I'll always settle for shallow praise.” She smiled and took a deep breath. 

“You are beautiful, Astarion. The Deva of the higher planes and the Incubi of the hells, may only dream of achieving your perfection. The dawn shining on morningdew cannot compare to your radiant self. My heart can only ache when blessed to witness your glorious figure.” She had her hands on her heart, reciting the verses. There it was, her allure shining through her words, the force of personality to bend people's will to her own whims with a glare and a few honeyed words. Astarion felt… weirdly comforted. Even if she jested, maybe there was truth to it. He hoped.  

“Mirror's aren't much use. But being reflected in someone else's eyes? Well, I could do worse.” 

“If you need more reassurance of your beauty, just ask away. I might have Wyll teach me a few sonnets if that will be of help.” 

He laughed it off and they parted ways soon after. The drow needed to recover and Astarion too would have an early trance, to wake up and admire the dawn on the morrow. 

A certain amount of peace was comfortably sitting in his chest that morning: the day was so bright and warm it almost felt like summer and the forest air was rejuvenating on his naked skin. The grass below his back was soft and still wet with dew, smelling musty and herbal. What he was mostly happy for was the sun shining brightly upon him.  

He still didn't know what he looked like, but it was reassuring that whatever he was, he could count on the beauty of his appearance still. At least, according to what Leeith said the night before. Many in his life had complimented it, but it was most often drunkards who unlucky wanted to bed him. None of their words were true. 

And for as much as he wished otherwise, the drow was one of them. She had to be plotting something. It was just in her nature. Why else would she be so friendly with him specifically? He had been such a fool to think that she maybe saw him as a true friend, that saw his interior world. 

He remembered that day in the blighted village, after killing the ogres, when she showed off her golden tongue. And later, after the wizard left: that morning she talked so much about being a just leader and only trying to protect the grove from the threat of an explosion. Lies, all of them probably. She held everyone - the tieflings and the druids alike - in contempt. She didn't care about their lives, so something else must have been the cause. It was no secret that the drow despised Gale because of an old insult. Could she have killed him? Was that the end of everyone who displeased her? If she was lying about everything that morning, he would have, should have, picked up on something: a word out of a place, a tinge of anxiety in her eyes or an intimidating remark. Instead she laid herself almost bare, relaxed, sorry even.

Threats and deceit were the only thing she knew and she was a master at both. In two hundred years he had done nothing but lie. But Leeith's charisma was a talent that surpassed his own. 

Doubt of her had settled and with every passing day, it grew. When was the drow going to show the cards up her sleeve? What was going to happen to him? Was she just Cazador’s mole? Why did the thought of these days all being a lie hurt him so much? She was just like anyone else, a helpful tool towards his freedom, no matter how much he enjoyed the time spent together. No matter how different it felt to lay with her under the trees. 

He had thought much about that night; it kept coming back to him, both when awake and in his dreams. As time buried the disgust he felt, something more came to light: more than the realisation of his freedom, of the warmth they shared, of her blood spilling in his mouth. Nothing so platonic. 

He had just enjoyed the night. Carnally. Past the act he put up, he just couldn’t resist reliving her moans, his pleasure, her pleasure, the tightness of her body around his member. The feeling of his fingers running across that pale grey skin and the moment she pushed him to the ground, grinning, wanting him. And the end, when he couldn’t help but fall down on her, feeling like he had died for just a little bit of time. He wanted it again. Astarion was almost compelled to ask to share his bed a second time. 

But he couldn't with a backstabbing drow such as her. No matter how sweet and genuine Leeith’s smile was for him - and him alone.  

Gods! Whatever! He was going to keep his friendly act up until it was useful and, if need be, he knew he could always count on his dagger and the shroud of darkness. A golden tongue wouldn't save her from his golden, bloody hands. 

“Astarion!” And there she was, screaming his name from somewhere in the forest. He didn’t respond, annoyed by the fact his sunbathing time was disturbed. His name was called a few more times, along with angry words in Undercommon. 

“Over here, dear.” He sighed at last, without moving an inch. The sound of steps got closer until finally the drow was squatting by his side. 

“Good morning, handsome.” She said in a lusty, deep tone. “Sorry for interrupting your ‘Lizard time’.” 

“Ugh, why would you compare me to such a foul critter?” He winced, still with his eyes closed.

“Because I don’t know other overworld creatures that sunbathe - and the animals in the underdark don’t know what the sun is.” She was so good at faking joy in her voice, it almost sounded like she was genuinely happy to see him. Disgusting. 

“If you’ve come here just to insult me, please, spare your words. I’ve had enough of this.” His tone came out a bit more rude than he had anticipated. Astarion finally sat up. Leeith seemed a bit taken aback by the sudden outburst. Surprise quickly turned into resentment and he could see her eyes narrow.

“I just came here to tell you we’re leaving and if you want to come or not.” She got up. “If you don’t, it’s fine, I’ll just have Wyll along.” The vampire weighed his options for a second.

“For as much as I would love to do nothing but lounge while you risk your life for me and the thought of spending my entire day being glared at by Lae’zel delights me, I think I’ll come along, darling.” He picked up his shirt and shoes from the ground, quickly putting them back on. 

“Are you sure? You seem a bit off. I’d rather not have you freak out at the worst of times.” The drow crossed her arms, clearly studying him. She was still irritated, but also maybe… concerned? Was she scared that her little act had been discovered? 

“Oh, don’t you worry. I'm still as sharp as ever. I just don't like to be disturbed while I work on my tan.” She raised an eyebrow right before shrugging.

“Maybe looking tanned like a common farm hand will bring your ego down to mortal levels.” They both began walking to camp. The vampire noticed how she avoided direct sunlight and winced when a ray hit her eyes.

“That's quite impossible. I would still be a world-endingly beautiful elf. A hidden diamond.” 

“Under the mud and cow dung, sure, you would be a very splendid gem.” 

“Of course I would. You demonstrate that beauty can be born even from the worst of people, dark elf.” Astarion leaned down a bit, placing a hand over her shoulder. He hadn't met many drows in his life, but she did look beautiful. Even her red tinted hair had a certain wild charm. 

“Drow. Not “dark elf”. Don't put me together with you Darthiir.” Fortunately her drow supremacist rant came to rescue him from thinking more about her positive traits. She was the enemy. Astarion had to categorically stop thinking good things about her. 

How unfortunate, then, that on that very day, they would meet an old face. 

As they explored deeper into the swamp, baaing at redcaps who still thought they were polymorphed into sheep - which annoyingly got a chuckle out of the vampire no matter how hard he told himself to stop finding the drow interesting - the party ran into a man. The smell around him was so rancid, leagues above the putrid waters that surrounded them. Astarion recognised his old acquaintance in a heartbeat: a Gur. Of course, no other people could smell so foul but his kind. They infested the city with their presence, and, after what they did to him, his hate was more than justified. The vampire was ready to bar his fangs, but as always, Leeith spoke up first.

“Oh stranger, forgive the aroma. Powdered iron-wine. An old hunter’s trick: most monsters will think twice before making a meal out of me.” The Gur glossed over everyone. He didn’t pay any mind to Astarion, acting friendly. This gave him enough confidence to walk up to him. Rage was bubbling up his chest and it took all of his effort not to point a dagger at the fool's throat already. 

“You’re a monster hunter? I’m surprised: I thought all Gur were vagrant cut-throats.”  The man shook his head, sighing at him, but still at ease.

“What's a Gur? He looks plain like any other surface dweller.” The drow gestured at him. Was she… feigning ignorance now? How could Gurs not fester in the Underdark too?

The hunter responded, diverging Leeith's attention from the elf. 

“We’re a mystical and dangerous people; we travel the land, never settling in one place. We steal your chickens, curse your crops, seduce your daughters. Your friend here has heard it all, I'm sure. I wish we had half the powers settled folks think we possess. Alas I'm a simple wanderer - a simple wanderer and monster hunter. But I'm no witchdoctor or cut-throat.” Monster hunters. Tks, more like thugs and barbarians who shouldn't be allowed to be near civilised societies. 

“If I were a cut-throat I wouldn't admit it either.” Said Leeith. Of course the traitorous bastard wouldn’t admit to it. How many more things was she still hiding? Why were they still talking to the Gur in front of them, he was just a nuisance. Even his voice was enough to make the hair on his nape stand up in disgust. 

“True. And I have no proof to offer but my word. If you wish, our path need not cross again. I'm haunting a vampire spawn and it is a little too bright for you to be my prey. His name's Aatarion and I'm afraid he's gone to ground-” The world fell into silence. If his heart still beat, it would have given up just now. 

Gods of course: there was no other reason for her to still be talking to this Gur. How could he be so blind. So blinded by… what? Companionship? For two hundred years he had uses Cazador’s teachings to make people fall for him. How could he not recognise the same tactics, the flirtiness and fake concern that the drow sported in every word, just enough to make him trust her, the same routine he was forced to learn. 

Were the devil and the half-blood in on it? They probably wouldn’t have turned their backs on the drow for a useless spawn such as himself. He couldn’t win against four people, he would run away at the first opportunity. He wasn’t going to let a fucking drow sell him off. 

He lowered his eyes at her and the insufferable smirk that was surely painting her lips. She was already signing her victory no doubt about it. 

They glanced at each other: what was up with her face? Her lips were thin and a brow raised, while her eyelids shot open with surprise. That wasn’t the expression of a winner. 

“And when you'll find this ‘Astarion’ you'll kill him?” She returned nonchalant in a split second, hand carefully slipping by the handle of her rapier. 

“Not this time. My orders are to capture him” Her stance changed, one foot stepping behind the other, the rest of her body facing the hunter: it was very subtle, merely shifting her weight around, but enough to let the vampire know that she was ready to attack a common enemy. 

“Oh, and bring him where exactly?” Said Astarion, testing the waters. He was still ready to jump backwards and run, maybe throw a vial of acid behind him to slow down his captors. 

“Baldur's gate. My people wait for me there.” Leeith glanced back at the vampire with a tense gaze: they both knew who was waiting in the city. She still hadn’t made a move against him either. Maybe he had been too quick to judge. Surely if she had to apprehend him, she would have attacked already, not keep drawing information from the Gur. And he looked more and more confused, but also still relaxed, unaware of the elf’s identity. 

“Only a spawn? Pity, it's not like he is a real vampire.” Said Leeith, with a mocking tone. Astarion glared at her: how could she joke at a moment like this. Frankly, he should have cut her just for the insult. 

“I don't know. I'm sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your throat if he felt like it.” He limited himself to words, but he was going to complain about it later. Maybe sink his fangs a little deeper next time he fed.

“He is right, unfortunately. They are only weak when compared to their masters. During the day we have the advantage. But at night, when they hunt? You will not find a more deadly quarry.” Gods, this “monster hunter” was still so clueless. He felt insulted that Cazador would choose someone as dense as him. 

The drow and the elf eyed each other: they didn't need words nor the connection of the tadpoles to understand what the other thought.

“Interesting. So, Astarion what do you think?” She smirked, leaving the stage open for him. 

“That's Astarion? No, impossible!” The look on the Gur’s face was priceless. 

“These days I'm making the impossible look easy.” Then the vampire turned to his faithful friend. “May I?” 

The Gur scrambled back, unprepared to deal with him just now.

“After you.” She bowed theatrically, her arm lighting up with magic. 

“Thank you dear.” With an elegant nod, Astarion loaded a bolt in his crossbow. 

The hunter had stepped backwards in the meantime, taking aim right for the vampire. He felt vines grow right from below his feet which snatched him on the spot, making him unable to dodge the subsequent crossbow shot. He hissed in pain, but still raised his arm and shot back. Maybe spending that much time joking with Leeith wasn't the best of choices, but no matter: he had her backing him and even Karlach and Shadowheart were joining in the fight, running at their assailant. 

Leeith remained close to him, summoning eldritch blasts from her fingertips, recoiling back everytime they burst. Her eyebrows were furrowed and focused, noticed the vampire even in the midst of battle. 

The hunter shot again, hell bent on at least killing him even if it cost his life. A mistake, because his aim was pathetic now that the two massive women were in front of him, swinging at him with sword and spells. He was able to dodge a few, but, at every opportunity, a blast or a crossbow bolt would come right at him from far away. Rancid blood and sweat poured out of him and his breathing got heavier. 

Astarion was being defended by everyone. He was not alone. This newfound confidence improved his skills and none of his shots missed their targets. 

And it was him who dealt the final blow, right at the man's knee, shattering it no doubt. The hunter fell down, still conscious, whimpering in pain from all the cuts and burns on his body. 

Leeith helped the elf out of the grappling vines, checking if he was ok with a glance. He waved her away and reached in his pocket for one of her exquisitely brewed potions. 

The drow walked in front of the Gur and knelt by his side, grabbing a fistful of his long hair to stare in his terrorised eyes. He begged between short breaths.

“What is your name?” Her tone was stern.

“Gan-Gandrel. Please. Please- I- mercy. Please please.” His voice got weaker with every word. 

“Now, Grandrel, I would love nothing more than to let you live. My old friends used to say I am the most merciful drow of the underdark.” The vampire looked at her with an inquisitive gaze. Was she not going to kill him? Was she stupid? Death was too good for that man. He thought of sprinting into action, but Leeith pointed a dagger at the Gur's throat not an instant later.

“I would love nothing more than to let you go back to Cazador and make you tell him that a Lolth’s servant is coming after him, ready to fuck his uptight ass with sand and broken glass. Maybe get a gnoll to do it.” A shiver ran down Astarion's spine. Fear yes, but also the pleasure of vengeance. Leeith's words were enticing and full of desire, making love to his vampiric ears. He had no doubt that she was being truthful, too. 

“But unfortunately, you're a liability for us. What if you told the bastard of our position, uh?” The Gur tried to plead more, but she stopped him by placing the dagger on his lips. “Let me finish, Gandrel. Not only you're a liability to us, but also to yourself. Cazador - the guy who employed you - is a true vampire. If the stories a true, he is quite apt at torture and suffering. What do you think would happen to you if you came back without Astarion, uh? As I said, I am the most merciful drow.” She turned around to stare at Astarion, extending her dagger by the handle. “Care to finish him off, darling?” 

Astarion smiled, kneeling in front of her. Their red eyes met, becoming one. How could he have ever doubted her? There was no one in the world more alike to him than that drow. No one who better understood him nor was ever as willing to murder for him. She was above and beyond his rosiest expectations. 

Crimson sprayed over both their faces and they smiled at each other.

Maybe praying even to Lolth all those many years ago had not been a mistake, if this was the custodian angel she sent. 

“You really are a sick fuck for slitting a man's throat like that.” Said Karlach, interrupting their moment. 

“You had as strong a hand in killing him than any of us did. You just didn’t land the killing blow.” Leeith was patting his corpse, pocketing anything she found useful. Not that there was much except for a heavy crossbow he couldn’t use.

“But he was pleading for his life. We could have spared him or just- not tell him that he was Astarion. We could have turned back and forgotten about this.” The tiefling was trying to be reasonable, but the drow shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“The man wanted to kidnap our friend. I value Astarion’s life much higher than that of a cut-throat. What would have happened once he was healed back? Or what if a much worse monster came to us? This guy was ready to sign a deal with a hag to find him, that would have fared badly for all of us. I look after my people. I almost risked my life to get rid of your own kidnappers, remember?” She stood up, and the two argued for a little more, until the cleric stopped them, fed up with both. They both stood on their convictions, so it was better to cut it here before spirits turned sour. 

They still had parts of the swamp to explore. Karlach went in front to avoid Leeith and was followed by Shadowheart. The vampire and the drow remained a few metres back, gossiping. 

“So, there’s a monster hunter after you?” Said Leeith. He knew the conversation was coming.

“Not anymore, which is all that matters really.” He tried deflecting, but she wasn’t having it. 

“What if there are others? He might not have been alone.” 

“We'll deal with them, like we did with this one.” A certain worry was weighing down his heart, ripping the smile off of his lips. 

“Are you sure Cazador is behind this?” A useless question and she knew it, judging by how heavy her voice was, so that no one could hear them. 

“It was him. I'm sure. Only he would know to send a Gur after me.” He struggled to contain the volume down. “It was a group of Gur that attacked me that night in Baldur's Gate. I would have died had Cazador not appeared and saved me.” 

“What a good heart he had: saved you by making you a slave.” She scoffed

“Well, he didn't mention the slave clause at the time. And now he sends a Gur monster hunter to look for me. It's a message.” He slowed his pace down to a halt, absorbing in the view. “He's reminding me of his power. Even in the middle of nowhere he can reach me and he wants me back.” 

“But why would he? Why not just kill you?” She stopped beside him, signalling to Karlach and Shadowheart to push farther on their own. Astarion appreciated it, not having his secrets made public domain. This still couldn't hide the sadness in his voice.

“Maybe he wants to make an example out of me. To show what happens to runaways. Or maybe he thinks death would have been too good for me.” 

“I would love to say you're safe here, but… He won't let go easy, will he? How concerned should I be?” She held her chin with one hand, in thought. Was she dumb enough to think she could pick a fight with a vampire now? Or did she not know anything about them.

“Concerned? Do you know the powers a vampire lord possesses?” His temper rose up, remembering all the terrible things he had witnessed his master do. “He can change shape, turn into mist, call wolves to do his bidding, shrug off blows like they're nothing. He could walk into our camp tonight and kill you with his bare hands. And you'll be lucky if death is the worst thing that happens to you.” He pointed a finger in her face, which she stared at and moved away gently.

“All right. You know him best. What do you suggest?” 

“First we have to… uh.” Started the vampire, trying to come up with something. The more plans he had, the more he had to turn down in his head. Most of those plans didn't go further than storm the palace in the morning and kill him. ”I don't know! If we keep killing his lackeys he'll just send more. We just have to be vigilant; keep our wits about us. And kill any monster hunter on sight.” The drow raised her brow and couldn't hide a smirk. 

Astarion felt insulted. Who did she believe herself to be? He was the one that had to suffer. He had made a grave mistake forgiving her. And why were her hands reaching for his throat now? She couldn't strangle him since he didn't breath- she put her hands on his shoulders at the base of the neck. He tried to pull away from the unwanted touch, but she squeezed him lightly, reassuringly. A bit of her body heat spread down even with the thick gambeson he was wearing. It took all of his composure and will power not to lean in her gentle touch.

“Hey.” She looked serious, but calming. “I know it seems hard right now, ok? And I know vampires are strong. I probably couldn't kill one right now. But don't let your fear make you wander far. There's miles between here and the city and he can't travel easily overground. He won't come. And by the time we reach Baldur's Gate, we will have grown stronger. And I promise you, he will suffer. You can carve a poem into his back too, do even more revisions, uh? Besides, he can't control you with the tadpole still inside your mind and you are a proficient rogue, you'll escape again.” He shook his head and straightened his back. 

“Oh you are a sweetheart, but I'm not going to delude myself.” He wriggled free of her hold, not without a part of him suddenly missing the comforting warmth. She lowered her arms and shrugged, then turned to walk away. 

“I know fear. I have dealt with mine and freed myself of it. You will too, I'm sure of that Astarion. Until then, follow your advice, keep your wits and a clear head.”

[kmenkea]

In my coop game my friend and I are running an underwear only cult, but Gale and Astarion get the special fresh ball air treatment, so I can't even talk to companions normally 😭

Also, for anyone that was interested in my Astarion fan fic, I will keep writing it, but I'll probably take a pause. I've broken up with my partner and the thought of romance makes me kind of sick rn.

He was also my beta reader so that's another problem I have to sort out now.

[kmenkea]

Interrupting the programmed Astarion posting, to share this drawing I made of Choso, in honour of him appearing in the latest episode of jjk (and also the leaks of chapter 246 of the manga, which I read and I'm very very happy about).

I love him so much, he is such a cute baby, I don't even want to lust after him though I have to.

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 7

Summary: While exploring a cave underneath the village, they come across a deadly fight and an interesting purple gem. Mean, careless comments are thrown around by Leeith, who will regret it after conversing with the vampire.

Word count: 4.2k

Read on Ao3

(I'm looking at this sketch after weeks and i want to make so many changes, but I'm not home with my graphic tablet >:( )

The morning after, it was the drow who awoke everyone and rounded them up in front of her. It was better to break the news now: control the narrative, rather than wait for people to ask questions and start forming little answers in their little heads about what might have happened. 

“It is with great displeasure that I must inform you that the wizard, Gale, left us during the night.” Her companions were puzzled, but she continued to speak before they could ask any question. “I’m not sure if he ever spoke to any of you about his condition. Much like our friend Karlach, Gale also had something in his chest. But, unlike you, his heart held something much more potent, that would have levelled an entire city and more if left unchecked. He informed me yesterday that absorbing the Weave from artefacts wasn’t calming down his hunger and was at a loss of what to do. Travelling with us could have put everyone’s life in danger, so he decided to go and take care of the matter. He entrusted us with the question of the tadpoles and will return to us once the Absolute has been dealt with. Questions?" She crossed her arms behind her back, appearing like a general in front of her soldiers. 

"What? I can't believe he just left, why didn't you stop him?" Wyll muscled his way to the front of the group. 

"Because unlike Karlach's, his condition is not controllable in the slightest. Should I have endangered everyone in this camp? The druids and tieflings of the grove? All of Baldur's Gate if he was to last that long before being consumed?" She stopped, looking down and taking with what seemed like deep remorseful breath. "Sometimes, doing what's best means sacrificing oneself. He chose well and I'm sure even alone he will be able to come up with a solution. He was, in his words, a prodigy and Mystra's favourite. He will survive this."

There were a few more questions about him after that, which the drow answered by claiming she was trying to just protect everyone, like a leader should do. She couldn't tell if someone had seen behind the virtuous mask she was wearing, but if they did, they didn't care about informing the others. 

The group of four, Karlach, Astarion Shadowheart and herself, left camp to explore more of the village, with the intention of moving towards the main goblin camp. The only thing left to check out was just the well. The cave they lowered themselves into was full of spider web and it smelled of the underdark. If it wasn't for the foreboding aura of the place, made worse by the tadpole conjuring images of future deaths, the drow would have probably felt at home. 

They arrived in an open room, with large chasms that plunged into almost darkness. There were webs connecting the columns that constituted the upper floor, while below they could see a few egg sacks and blue spiders, not native to the underdark, recognised the drow. What really scared the drow was the large spider matriarch walking over the webs. She also had a blue tint, but darker. First thing first, she had to get rid of the egg sacks, before the little ones could surround them. 

She looked at Astarion and motioned her hand towards the eggs hatching on one of the pillars, past a web bridge. There was a rock he could hide behind while smashing them, but he was going to be the closest to the mother, so he had to be careful. Next she sent Karlach, who had to climb some roots to reach the eggs on the floor below. There were other enemies there, so she had to be quick and careful. The drow, well, she was going to feel bad about smashing spiders that weren't even born yet and pray to her Quarvalsharess for forgiveness. Astarion destroyed the first few eggs and so did the barbarian, stomping on them. Leeith didn't spontaneously combust, so either Lolth wasn't watching, or she didn't care about these spiders. 

The vampire returned safely, cleaning webs from his daggers and ankles. 

“Yuck. Remind me, why do you worship these foul creatures again?” He shook his hand, trying to throw away a piece of sticky web. “I hope this is worth it.” 

“The ones in the underdark are all fuzzy and can give you big hugs. Want to try some time?” Said the drow, earning a face of pure disgust from Astarion. He couldn't respond, before they heard the tiefling scream.

“This shit teleported in front of me!” Followed by the sound of a steel hitting the ground and a fiery roar. The matriarch spider and two smaller ones ran towards Karlach, allerted by all the noise. Astarion was the first to sprint into action, hitting the matriarch with his crossbow. Even if the bolt was sticking out of her carapace, she didn't seem bothered. The vampire cursed and stepped back into the shadow, looking for a weak spot. 

The cleric stood up and rushed into action at the side of Karlach, shield up and ready to defend herself. Leeith didn't jump down to the tiefling, where all the beasts were, but remained at the edge of the pillar; spiders ran down her arm, growing on her palm to be pushed away in a forceful blast. The matriarch looked towards her: its figure vanished from that spot and reappeared a few metres away from the drow, launching an attack with her mandibles. From up close, the beast was more than enormous, casting its shadow over her. She gritted her teeth and stepped backwards as fast as she could, trying to get away from the onslaught; the terrain was so uneven, full of rocks and slippery sand, it was a miracle she didn’t fall over. In retaliation she pointed at the matriarch, who ignited and burnt thanks to her fire spell. The beast screamed in pain and the smaller spiders teleported to her. From the corner of her eyes, she could see another set of eggs breaking open. She was surrounded by them and wondered if it just wasn’t Lolth’s punishment. 

“Karlach, Shadowheart, group up!” She screamed. Another arrow hit the mother, as Astarion came out of the shadows from behind her.

Whilst Shadowheart ran to the vines and began climbing them back up, the barbarian leaped in the air, clearing the massive height with unnatural ease. Her sword was already up over her shoulder and she swung it down on one of the spiders, smashing it. She roared victorious, ready to face the matriarch. 

Now that they were all together, the drow was slightly less worried, but they were still more than outnumbered. They concentrated on the beast, who by far posed the greatest threat, but all of her children were wearing them down, nipping and biting to spill blood. Even Shadowheart couldn’t do much to help, since she had way too many spiders around her to be at people’s side and cure them properly. Astarion was trying to dart in and out of cover, but it was hard to remain unseen with all of these beasts. 

The matriarch too was looking worse for wear, especially after Karlach had chopped off one or two of its legs. Its attacks became more violent and less precise: Leeith didn’t know if spiders could experience fear, but that’s what seemed to be happening. It was Shadowheart who put the mother out of its misery, burning it from the inside with a bolt of radiant light. It was easy to take care of everything else, especially now that their hearts burst with confidence. 

The tiefling dropped face first on the ground, panting like she had run a marathon, huffing up small clouds of dust; she didn’t look that hurt, she was just being dramatic. They all took a few minutes to lick their wounds. The drow especially got some weird looks when she started to suck on her wounds on the arms and ankles, spitting bitter blood on the ground. 

“What?” She asked, her teeth painted in red and a raised eyebrow. 

“Darling… are you playing vampire now? You know I won’t turn you, right?” There was slight disgust in his voice. 

“Thanks to the Weaver for that.” She rolled her eyes at Astarion. “If anything even slightly insect shaped bites you in the underdark, the first thing you do is suck up your blood and spit it out, in case there’s venom.” 

“You could just have an antidote or use a spell. Besides, that's an old myth: you can't suck venom from a wound.” The cleric crossed her arms, already standing up and ready to go. 

“I still don’t want poison in my veins.” The drow put her boots back on, feeling embarrassed. 

“Aw, look Astarion, she’s trying to keep her blood clean for you.” Teased the cleric, earning a chuckle from the vampire. Leeith mumbled in undercommon, mimicking both of them, but kept her head low to hide her face. She knew she was right and besides, they were all surface dwellers, what could they know? 

Once she got up, still grumpy, they went to explore the lower floor of the cavern, finding mostly just skeletons picked clean of meat. The chasm below kept them on the edge, afraid of falling down, especially Karlach, who dared not look down and always walked with her back attached to solid rock. They found an old robe on one of the corpses and, a few steps away from it, a purple gem that glowed lightly. 

“Bet this could fetch some gold.” commented Leeith, showing it off to the group and promptly opening her back pack to stuff it in there, among the mess of scrolls, papers, potions and trinkets. And the Necromancy of Thay. The tome trembled when the gem hit it, reacting to it. 

“Is that the key?” Said Shadowheart, leaning to take a better look at whatever was happening. 

“I would assume. How did it end up here though?” The drow took out the book and gem: the two did seem to fit together. 

“Please, we’re already in the dark spider cave, don’t unlock the creepy book her-” Before the tiefling could finish, Leeith stuffed the mouth of the tome with the purple gem. Its eyes started glowing a bright purple and something called her in, a profane whisper that promised everlasting powers. Her thumb lingered on the edge of the lock, ready to push on it, but she hesitated: she scoured through her mind, trying to remember something, anything about the book. She tried to decipher what those dark voices were saying, anything that could cast away the doubts of these pages being cursed. Nothing came. She turned the book, avoiding its gaze in an effort to flee from that presence. 

The looks on Shadowheart and Karlach were ones of worry. She expected the same when she glanced at the vampire, but he just seemed eager and waiting on something. She handed the tome to him without saying a word: he smiled and raised his eyebrows in approval, mixed with a tad of surprise. It was a calculated risk: if hidden powers truly resided within that book, then she could have used them through Astarion, granting his aid in battle; if only a curse was hiding beneath the pages, then it would have been easier to let him deal with it and, at worse, put him down. It wouldn’t be the first time she turned on a friend, she would be able to cope with losing another. 

“If you get cursed, don’t come crying to me.” Warned Leeith, before letting go. 

“Oh, of course, I’ll be extremely careful with the evil-looking, skin-bound book. Trust me.” He smirked arrogantly. She nodded in approval, dismissing his cockyness. “Shall we return to camp for today? My hair is full of cobwebs and I can't stand it a moment more here.” He didn't wait for an answer before walking past everyone, leading the way forward. 

The camp set up in the village was fairly unusual. No one had set up their tent, preferring to throw their bed rolls inside the less ruined houses. Most chose to be inside the old smith shop, a large well covered area, pretty cosy as long as one minded the large hole in the ground. Shadowheart and Leeith preferred instead to stay in the apothecary, to make use of the ingredients and alchemy sets. Astarion had claimed the bedroom in that same building for himself, content to lay on the giant mattress, even if most of the wall was gone. 

Before bed, they grouped up in front of the fireplace in the smith’s house, sharing a meal of fire roasted meat and red wine. The only one missing was Astarion, who had to go hunt now that the drow wasn't supplying her own blood. She kept glancing outside for signs of his return, but for the whole night, she didn't see anything. There was a slight worry, but he was capable enough to survive on his own. At least she hoped. City dwellers of high social status like the vampire weren't known for their survival skills.

They played a few games of cards, with Lae’zel losing her temper whenever she was confused by the rules, resorting to asking for a duel to set who was victorious. No one really took her on the offer and Wyll decided to stop playing, to guide the gith through the rules. Shadowheart, on the opposite end of the spectrum, kept teasing her about it, so much that the drow had to ask her to stop before the Githyanki would actually attack her. It was harder for Karlach to play, considering whenever she touched the cards, they would get gently singed by her hot fingertips. Scratch was comfortably sitting by Leeith’s side, occasionally placing his head on her lap to ask for pets. 

They retired to their bedrolls fairly late, the drow having to drag a drunk Shadowheart across the street to their refuge. She didn't bother with finding a nightgown and the cleric seemed pretty happy with sleeping in her camp clothes. 

It was still too early to trance for the drow and she wasn't tipsy enough to need to lay down. Everything in the night was quiet and dark, even the moon was covered by thick clouds. She could see yellow and gold shimmers, torchlight and fires from the goblin camp in the distance, but around her it was all a shade of grey and blue. She was resting her elbows on a guardrail, the stairs connecting with the old apothecary's bedroom. She kept hearing murmurs from somewhere behind her, but the doors at her back were swung open and the room was empty and cold. The wall was destroyed, so she could see behind the house, in a small square, and even there was nothing. The forest was near, so it could have been some weird animal or goblins who had strayed too far from the pack - hardly anything to be bothered about. The drow sighed and went to give a better look to the square, but still nothing. Except the murmur, which seemed closer, but coming from the roof. 

“Come on, Come on. What are you hiding?” It seemed to say, between gritted teeth. Was it a thief, maybe looking for easy prey in an abandoned village?

She looked above her, trying to find a way to get up on the roof. In a flash, she remembered the ladder on the wall by the guardrail. She ran there, trying to keep quiet, and began climbing. The ladder was pretty old and creaky, but still got her to the top.

“Can you summon the dead? Bring them back? Can you - Ugh, can you shut up and let me read?” The drow crouched down, recognising the voice of the vampire. What was he doing up here? She kept spying on him, getting closer: a faint purple light came from what he was holding. She recognised it as the necromancy tome they had found. He mumbled to himself, struggling to even turn the pages. His mind was so captured by the book, that he didn’t notice the drow standing right beside him. Did he come all the way up here not to be disturbed?

“No, I won’t kill them. Well, maybe Shadowheart… I can’t. I won’t. Now - stop! Let. Me. Go! Ah… Hello!” He snapped the book close and his face was dark again, illuminated only by the moon. He looked up to Leeith, slightly surprised. 

“Good Book?” She sat down, crossing her legs, a bit weary of whatever was happening. He took a moment to respond, weighing his words.

“A unique read, certainly. A tome of necromancy, guarded by spirits. I almost reached the end before they drove me out. And drove me all but mad.” He clicked his tongue and his voice pitched up in frustration. “Now everytime i open it, the voices surge back into my mind. I can’t reason with them; they exist to protect that book.” He sighed, looking defeated.

“Is there anything we can do? Maybe we’re missing some other piece?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It’s hard to know what’s lurking in here. Someone went through a lot of trouble to protect this tome. It has to be more than a book of cantrips.” He lifted it up, staring at it, the purple haze reflecting off his hair and skin again. “Still, I doubt this will help us with our parasites. Maybe it’s better to put it away for now.” He placed it down, but he didn’t look fully convinced. It seemed more that he just wanted to hide it away from her. 

“What were you hoping to find in there?” She pressured him.

“It’s a book of necromancy, full of secrets about controlling the dead, returning the dead to life and who knows what else.” He sounded like he was explaining the obvious, but with a smile on his face. “Whatever’s in here, it might give me an edge over my old master Cazador. Or free me from him entirely. Although I can’t make any progress as long as those spirits remember their mission. It seems to be all they know. Still, if nothing else, maybe I can beat Cazador to death with it.” His eyes gleed at the thought. 

“Truly, you’ve discovered how to really use this heavy, heavy knowledge. Attach it to a stick for better reach.” She joked. “But next time don’t do it on a roof in the dead of night, I beg you: I was about to blast you thinking you were a thief.” She held his gaze: his expression was subtle, a little smirk, but his eyebrows were gritted, studying her more than anything. Was he annoyed about the blasting comment? She would have just tried to defend their belongings. It wasn’t her fault if he went around camp like a burglar.

“I’ll keep that in mind, my sweet. I know how much you enjoy talking about blasting people.” His expression returned pompous, masquerading whatever thoughts his mind gears were conjuring. It was fine, he was allowed his little secrets. Furthermore, she was too tired to have a squabble. Better to be friendly for now.

“And blasting them too. It’s so fun!” She smiled innocently, calm like the night. The air itself seemed to relax around them because of her influence. “I should teach you. Mh. Well I don’t know if you can learn how to do it without a pact with another being. And I don’t think I’m quite powerful enough to lend you my power.”

“Ugh, I’m trying to get rid of my master, not switch it for another. Delicious as you are, I don’t think that’s worth giving up what’s left of my soul.” The vampire pointed at his chest, still like water, no heart beating inside nor air flowing through his lungs. 

“My soul is already Lolth’s to take. When I bound myself to my mortal valsharess, I swore only unconditional loyalty and servitude.”

“Being a slave to a drow matriarch is only good in the confines of a bedchamber. Yet that’s hardly what I long for, darling.” The drow raised an eyebrow, suggestively, but decided that conversation path was to be saved for another night. 

“I’m not a slave. I could refuse to do her bidding, I would just lose my powers and never be able to return home again. To me, that's death. I would be cast away like a traitor-” She stopped herself from oversharing, letting out a heavy breath. “All that I mean is that not every pact needs a soul in exchange, silly. I would rather have your trust… and your fealty.”  She added the last part with absolute seriousness, furrowing her brow and hardening her face. He nodded and looked away, thinking.

“Trust and drow are more than an oxymoron. It’s only a matter of time before the matriarch turns on you or you on her, especially if your strength grows. I know who to bet on if that sort of battle might happen - and to be clear, not on you.” He stressed his last words by flicking his index left and right. 

“I would be offended, but you aren’t wrong on me losing. At least you can make a fortune on my skin.” She smirked and leaned just a bit closer to him, looking from under her brow. “Yet you are one to talk of loyalty, blood-sucker. You can’t tell me with a straight face that you aren’t just as prone to backstabbing and deceit as me: I recognise my people.” Her voice was lower, seductive, an intimate secret whispered in the dark, inviting the vampire to her world of shadows and blades hidden in velvet. 

“How could you think such a thing?” He hummed, chuckling. “You said you trusted me when I had your blood the first time; You trusted me yesterday in that pretty clearing. Have you suddenly changed your mind, Leeith? Did what we share not count for anything?” The drow looked for any hidden meaning in his words, but she only found a handsome pale face. 

“Oh, of course I trust you, Astarion. I wouldn’t be up here discussing loyalty otherwise. I trust everyone in fact. We’re social creatures: we wouldn’t be able to build cities and traverse mountains if we didn’t trust one another.” She stopped, distancing herself again. “I just believe one should always be vigilant and prepare for betrayal. If you’re scared of me just taking the necessary precautions, then, maybe… you do have something to hide?”

“Guilty as charged.” He placed a hand on his chest. “It might shock you, but I am a vampire, ha-ha.” Leeith gasped and covered her mouth. If he just wanted to play, fine, she was mostly sure she didn’t have anything to worry about around him.

“Oh dear, how could you hide such a thing from me?” She dried a fake tear. “You know I only sleep with werewolves.” 

“For some reason I’m not entirely surprised you would like to lay with half animals, darling.” He remarked with a foul grimace that looked a bit too genuine. 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? You know I’m joking, right?” She was puzzled and a bit offended that he could think such a thing of her.

“Oh? Oh dear, terribly sorry. I would reassure you I never doubted that, but it would be a lie, wouldn’t it?” Now, sarcasm was slipping through his lips like an everflowing wine goblet. The drow raised her head snobbishly and got up, dusting off her clothes.

“I think I’m going to go to bed now. Being called an animal fucker was a horrible way to end the day. ‘Night, Darthiir.” With a wave of her hand, she stepped away from the edge. Astarion said his goodbyes swiftly, with no intention of getting down from the roof, maybe in an effort to delve deeper in the hexed pages. Leeith stopped midway between him and her destination, turning around again.

“Give it some time before you try and read that book again: mental fatigue won’t help you fend off whatever those spirits are doing.” Her voice was made sweeter by a slight hint of worry for her friend.

“Yes, yes, I know. If I get cursed I’m on my own and you won’t help me.” He dismissed the drow with a wave of his hand. She stood there for a few moments more: she kind of regretted telling the elf not to cry to her if he got cursed. 

“Well, what I meant is that if you do get cursed, depending how strong it is, I won’t be able to really do much to help. But I can try and help you avoid getting cursed; I have studied magic unlike you, I might be able to give you some… reading tips, let’s say.” He got up as well, elegant like water. 

“A generous offer, darling, but not one I’ll make use of in a long while for now. You can rest easy. Shall we go? This roof is awfully unfit as a seating place.”

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Masterlist

Leeith was snatched from her home in the Underdark and ended up as the leader of band of weirdos with parasites in their heads. Unfortunately for Faerun, she's anything but a hero: she is a drow proud of her dark lineage. This doesn't seem to be an issue for the vampire, who instead takes a liking to the bloodthirsty Lolth Sworn. As their relationship, born out of mutual deceit, blossoms, they discover a side of themselves that no one else shall never see. Love, care and softness that only exist for each other; the rest of the world can burn.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 "A night of passion"

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9 (writing)

Part 10 (writing)

Read on Ao3

A.N.: My Astarion Fanfic. It will mostly follow actual in game conversation, but I will expand on them greatly. The main reason I'm writing it is because I felt like there was a gap in all these stories: none of them had an explicitly evil or morally grey Tav. I like my anti-heros and I want to share this love to everyone.

I have a plan of where things will go and I might keep writing even after the events of the game.

Other than that, feedback is very much appreciated. I tried to stay true to the companions personality, but it is hard to write characters which aren't my own. Hopefully it won't ruin your experience.

I will also try to add a quick doodle to each chapter. As of now most have it.

There's lots of Gale hate because he insulted me and my pc never forgave him, but I don't actually hate him as a character.

[kmenkea]

The worst podcast - bg3 comic [epilogue spoilers]

Just an idea that was inspired by your funny comments to my last comic!

Now go and watch The Game Awards!

[kmenkea]

Reblogging because I've actually fixed the pixel issues with the comic, thanks to a random tumblr comment mentioning long canvanses. Didn't think it was a problem, but makes sense lol.

I've been working on this little comic on and off for a bit, figuring my Tav and Astarion. I think it's cute, but I'm also not so confident about it

Hopefully one day I'll be able to draw comics

[kmenkea]

I've been working on this little comic on and off for a bit, figuring my Tav and Astarion. I think it's cute, but I'm also not so confident about it

Hopefully one day I'll be able to draw comics

[kmenkea]

I feel like this screenshot will perfectly summarise my durge run, except I'll switch Lae'zel for Minthara.

Astarion is staying there, the slut is getting romanced again, but by a bloody Bhaal-spawn.

Spawns team

[kmenkea]

slow blinking at astarion to let him know i mean no harm

[kmenkea]

The artistic 15 minutes rendition because i forgot to screen shot and anything is better than uni work

Man, don't you love it when you have the last cutscene with Astarion after defeating the big brain and instead of getting the proper animation, it bugs and you only see the room and two models t-posing side by side like true lovers?

[kmenkea]

Man, don't you love it when you have the last cutscene with Astarion after defeating the big brain and instead of getting the proper animation, it bugs and you only see the room and two models t-posing side by side like true lovers?

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 6

Summary: "Leeith felt so small upon looking at the fierce eyes of valsharess Lyneerlay and so, so miniscule, compared to bright red eyes that stared from even higher than the throne."

"No matter what you say, no matter what you will do, everything that befell you, was caused by your actions. Be a man and accept the consequences.” She chuckled.

A/N: A shorter "bonus" chapter going on the backstory for Leeith. Originally it was supposed to be part of a much longer chapter, but I decided to cut it in two for ease of reading. I will most probably post part 7 soon, which will be much beefier.

Word count: 2k

Read on AO3

The days flew by in almost an instant. The blighted village was safe. So was the cave north of it, after the gnoll infestation was taken care of; Wakueen’s rest instead was burnt to a crisp because of some drows apparently, but not Leeith herself. The fact that there were still flaming fists alive, meant that whoever did this, wasn’t exactly Lolth’s chosen warrior. But among all the rubble and blood, they did find a small treasure: leather drow armour. It had some light scratching and it was faded, but it was comfortable and well fitting as ever. 

The situation at camp wasn’t half as good. Wyll’s patron, a whole fucking devil, showed up. Mizora or whatever her name was, wanting to show off how much more powerful than lowly mortals she was. The drow's patreon was surely a thousand times more powerful than this overgrown imp and she would have easily banished her back to the hells.

But Leeith wasn't. Not yet anyway. She played nice, mediated with her, hiding her disgust. Mizora left without too much trouble, only deciding to give wyll the look of a tiefling. 

They took care of the Zhentarim cove: it’s not like she wanted to kill all of them, but apparently returning their little bottle without the heavy chest was some kind of sin for them and they decided to attack first. It was just a bottle, why were they being so annoying with it? Maybe one day she’d know. She looted everything around, the slave they kept ran away before she could drag him to camp, but in exchange for the man, she found something much more interesting: behind an illusory wall - badly constructed, since she easily saw it wobble around - there was a lift, sinking deep in the underdark. 

The drow’s eyes shot open with glee and a giant smile was impressed on her face when she breathed in that still, cold air. She could hear the rush of the river below her, the critters hiding behind the rocks, the cry of monsters from the depths below her. She couldn't care about what her friends were saying behind her, too enthralled by her home. Right, her friends. The look on their faces was anything but joyful. Shadowheart was holding up a torch just to be able to see and even Karlach and Astarion had trouble in the deep darkness of her home. She heard another monster cry, close to where they stood and sighed. 

“Uh, lets just go back. You aren’t ready.” Said Leeith, defeated and homesick. Her words were met with general relief, which only stung harder. 

“Oh thank gods. I didn’t get infected by a mindflayer to see the sun just to die in this horrible cave.” He was the first to go back to the lift. 

“This place is creepier than the hells: I feel like a bunch of insects are crawling all over my skin.” The tiefling made a weird finger gesture, imitating a spider walk.

“I have to say, I do enjoy the darkness here, but I would rather not become a giant spider’s dinner.” The cleric followed everyone back on the lift. Leeith, her heart shattered in a million pieces by everyone’s comments on her motherland, looked over all of them. 

“Surface weeklings.” She got on the lift and activated it. “Maybe staying down here a bit would make you grow a spine.” She muttered, sulking in a corner away from everyone. 

Her mood that day was foul and only grew worse. She didn’t mind so much that her friends despised the Underdark - she wasn’t expecting anything different - but she was so close to being in her world again, where her eyes didn’t burn because of the sun and where her goddess’ strength was greatest. Maybe she could have found a drow city and returned to her queen. The valsharess would have certainly been able to remove her parasite: she had alliances with a mind flayer colony, they would have been able to help her. Lolth be graced, Leeith was the negotiator of that alliance, even the mind flayers knew her enough to help her without express command of the matrons. 

She wasn’t so foolish as to think she could travel through the underdark alone, especially since her home was almost to the other side of Faerun, if the tree huggers’ maps were to be trusted. She needed someone's help, instead there she was, among people who all hated her or cowards afraid of a few spiders. 

None of them new what absolute dread was. They didn’t know what it was like to wake and feel a god’s eyes on them, gnawing at their soul and weighing it down below the ground. They didn’t know what it was like to kneel every night in front of the goddess their parents rejected and beg for her forgiveness, and claw at their own flesh and wish for their parents death, to purify themselves of traitor's blood. They don’t know the look her parents gave her when she decided to escape and return to "serve the spider bitch like a slave for the rest of her life". 

Leeith didn't know who or what protected her during that forced, mad march towards the closest drow city. She was barely sixteen at the time, basically an infant by drow conventions, she didn't know how to use magic nor a sword. Lolth must have watched over her and protected her. Her divine Valsharess listened to her prayers and sent a caravan of soldiers in her path. They wanted to kill her there and get rid of a possible traitor or spy, but the spider queen had gifted her with a tongue of gold. So the soldiers listen to her story of a great danger that would soon befall the queen matron of their city, that Leeith had run all the way to meet them just to warn them of the danger and that she needed to be brought to the queen. 

The soldiers, believing her because of her fervour, allowed the young drow to travel with them and ascend the steps of the palace and kneel in front of the throne of Lyneerlay Xyltin, one of the great matrons of T'lindhet, the one who wielded true power in the city. 

Leeith was on her knees, begging to be cleansed of her family’s sins, to be readmitted among the people blessed by the great Goddess. She promised eternal loyalty and servitude to the matron, in exchange for being able to worship in peace, no matter how low her rank. The queen rested in her chair and everyone could feel a great presence enveloping the room. Leeith felt so small upon looking at the fierce eyes of valsharess Lyneerlay and so, so miniscule, compared to bright red eyes that stared from even higher than the throne. 

The soldiers that rescued the young drow were condemned to death for believing the lies of traitor and putting the matron’s life in danger. They were made to kneel, right there, on that expensive, embroidered carpet, while the personal guard of the matron held their head up to expose their necks. The sacrificial dagger was put in Leeith’s hand. That was her first taste of blood. That was the first time others looked at her terrified, begging to be spared before their voice fell silent, in a gurgle of blood. At the time, she cried, her hand was shaking while cutting their flesh, but her Queens were watching and she couldn’t fail them if she wanted to survive. She had to obey.

And now, sitting in front of the fire, she was far from them. They would have punished her like any traitor that had run away. She didn’t know if her heart was about to stop or if it was just beating too fast; she was terrified. 

What she certainly didn’t need to see now, was the wizard, coming to the campfire sheepishly. 

“Good evening, Leeith. I have- something to ask of you.” His complexion was pale and his jaw clenched hard, as if he was struggling with something within him. 

“Now it’s not a good time, wizard.” She glared at him through the fire, trying to keep her voice from shaking. 

“I can see that, but this is a matter of utmost importance. Please, I just ask for a moment of your time.” He motioned towards his tent, wanting to speak privately. With a groan, the drow stood up. Her legs felt weak. She had to breathe and calm down. Breathe and calm down. She followed him. 

He was fidgety and afraid when he started speaking, wanting to tell the drow a story. She didn’t amuse him: the man had been way too secretive for too long, but still requested things from her, giving nothing in return, not even his supposed strong magical abilities. She requested just the truth and to be quick about it. And so started a story of a powerful boy who fell in love with a goddess, how he was her chosen one for his powerful magic, until she got bored. The guy could not stop showing off even now that he was begging for help. He was supposed to kneel before her, kiss her feet and plead, especially after almost dying at the toll house. Especially after failing to win back his divine lover and cursing himself with magic way too powerful to be controlled by mortal hands. He couldn’t help but stroke his ego, and that was his weakness to bear. 

Leeith took a few steps back, straightening her back. She held his gaze, silent. The wizard trembled in front of her as she gave one little smile, filled with malice and venom. The fear she had for her life before returning to Lolth; the fear she still felt when her Queens, the mortal and the divine, glanced down upon her to free her of her traitorous blood. It all reflected on the lowly man in front of her. There was only one way to really intimidate someone and that was to know first hand what true terror felt like. He looked so small before, smaller than she was compared to her Valsharessen.

“You will pack up your stuff during this night and by tomorrow morning, you will be gone.” The drow wasn’t going to risk hers and everyone’s life for a man who couldn’t fight. 

“I- please you don’t understand. This orb, it will level down all-” His voice was shaky, but the drow wouldn’t listen to his little cries now, after lying to her for so many weeks about such a danger. 

“I do not care, Gale. Know that all that will come to you is just your fault. No matter what you say, no matter what you will do, everything that befell you, was caused by your actions. Be a man and accept the consequences.” She chuckled. “You’re such a powerful and learned wizard. I am a lowly warlock, why are you asking for my help? I’m sure you can fix it, cheer up.” 

“I, well. I realise I’m not welcome here. If that’s what you think it’s best, then so be it.” He took it rather graciously. “Maybe I’ll find a mind flyer hive and blow myself there. That would be helpful, I’m sure.” He tried smiling, but under the proud façade, his soul was shivering, knowing these were going to be his last days. His pain did put a smile in Leeith’s face, a genuine one. Suddenly her mood improved and she almost felt compassionate. He reached in her pocket for a small ring. It was glowing with magic. 

“Here, a little treat for the road, Gale. It’s been a pleasure knowing you, shame it had to end on this note.” She flicked the ring off her fingers and it hit his chest. The wizard clenched his lips, holding back tears and kneeled to recover it. 

The drow went to sleep that night with her heart a little lighter, dreaming of the day she would recount all of this to her queen and her band in the underdark.

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 5

Summary: After their big night together, Astarion is left on the forest floor to think, reminiscing the last few days, whilst disgusts curls his viscera. His only gratitude is that he is finally free from his master.

AN: I tried to expand on both Leeith's and Astarion's character in this chapter, between the pillow talk and the exploration that comes later, as their relationship starts to grow.

w/c: 5.3k

Read on AO3

I started this WIP months ago and I'm posting it now in this chapter because I thought it fit very well with the "like juicy autumn grapes" comment in this chapter.

They laid under the night sky, neither of them uttering a word, just admiring the stars. They were still sharing their arms in place of pillows. 

The only thing bad about casual sex, thought Leeith, were the moments afterwards, unsure of what to do. Neither of them were the type to cuddle with a stranger, but the vampire and the drow were just friendly enough that it would have been weird to stand up and leave. She scavenged her mind for a conversation topic, but only one thing troubled her at that moment. 

“So, I assume vampires are sterile… right?” He didn’t turn around, just hummed affirmatively in response. “Another one of the many things Cazador took away from me.” He sighed, spitting the name of his old master. “At least there aren’t chances of finding more little Astarions in Baldur’s gate.” 

“As if I would go and be so careless as to sire a bunch of mutts.” He said in a snobbish tone.

“Well, you really strike me as a Don Giovanni; there’s no way in hell you didn’t spend the past centuries sleeping around. In my experience, men like you tend to be very careless.” For some reason, the comment really irked the elf, who glared at her with a grimace. 

“Like me? What do you mean like me?” He raised his voice, bearing his fangs. 

“I’m sorry, I really don’t mean it in a bad way. I’ve had my fun too in the years. But, the things you say and do and say… you’re an expert, is what I mean.” The vampire was still weary, but his expression relaxed just enough to calm the drow. 

“You’re speaking of things you know nothing about.” His tone was plain, but it was clearly a hurtful spot for him. She wanted to excuse herself again, but the vampire returned to his smug and grandiose self. "Just be glad I’m such a consummate lover.” 

“Oh absolutely, few things are worse than a man who can’t even please.” she chuckled, wanting to divert the conversation. “I’m just distraught that I’ll never get to meet an Astarionette in my lifetime.” 

“Darling, are you so infatuated with me that you’d have me even as a woman? I’m flattered.” 

“Oh no, darling, you got it wrong.” The drow glanced at her nails having grown pretty long. “I would prefer it if you were a woman. Sure men have the advantage of a built-in tool, but they're only good when they know how to submit.”

“Ha-ha, and still, I'm here. And my undying charm has got you pleading my name.” His face was extremely content and cocky, somehow more than normal. The drow roller her eyes, unpleased and humiliated. 

“Tks, you’re an exception. Consider yourself fortunate I’m not… I don’t know, whatever you darthiir - surface elves and traitors - think drow do after sex. Decapitate our male partners and feast on their guts.” She stopped to consider her words a moment. “Not that it doesn’t happen, but you know, it’s less common than you might think.” 

“And I assume the women get to survive your mantis mating rituals?” 

“Sometimes, yes. Why would I waste a true lover? There’s nothing better there’s than to lose oneself in someone that understands you completely. There’s a connection that I cannot experience with normal men. An instinctual knowledge, as if we’re both one and the same; the warmth of her body, her soft skin, the way even her ears reddened-” She stopped to consider her words, having found herself trailing off into the past. “Or maybe I don’t prefer women, I just want back those whom I’ve loved.” Leeith wasn’t going to have anything like that back. She didn’t want to have it back. 

“How quaint. I’ve never thought I’d see a spiderling in love. Let me guess, they grew some sense, escaped the underdark and left you there?” She faced the vampire: this time it was her sporting a pained grimace. She wanted to punch him in the face and leave him there after that comment. But it probably hurt her as much as the Don Giovanni comparison hurt him. 

“It ended like many other relationships in the underdark end: a dagger at the throat, hate sex and a corpse in the place you used to make love.” The drow looked back at the moon extending her fingers towards it, a simple gesture, as she relieved her memories. She caressed her wet, crying cheek for one last time, forever engraving in her memory how soft it was. How her lips were salty from tears. How her lover's hands trembled, while she pointed a blade at her chest, biting her skin, hesitating. Leeith couldn’t even feel that pain. “Dolor.” A mist of blood and brain matter rained upon her. Upon the bed where they used to adore each other. 

It had happened already more than once in her life, the details of each event twisting and mingling into each other. Did they use a dagger in the night or did they fight in the centre of a tavern? Did they laugh at their pain or cried together while hugging one last time in a muddy hallway? Was she the one that had been ordered to kill or her lover? It was fine now: none of that was ever going to happen again. She could have sex without sharing her soul, so why bother? 

“I love the underdark. I feel at home there. Baldur’s gate is probably as foul and bloody, but doesn’t its splendour shine brighter thanks to its darkness?” 

“Monsters like me thrive in the city. I suppose it does have its charm then.” He said with a shrug.  

“Do you consider me a monster, being a Lolth servant and all?” Leeith’s voice was starting to get heavy, as more memories flooded her mind and she was called to her trance. 

“Oh please, a bit of violence and religious fervour has never made anyone a monster. Sure your culture can be a bit - how can I best put this - intense, but I like your thirst for blood.” he licked his lips at the mention of blood.

“Then you aren’t a monster either. You just have very picky tastes.” She yawned, fully closing her eyes. “Glad I’m not alone up here on the surface. Good night, elf.” 

A cold shiver ran down his spine. The air of the night hit his body, still damp with sweat, but that wasn’t the source of his discomfort. As he laid on the grass, surrounded by trees and the calls of critters, he kept waiting and waiting. Soon, the spawn would hear those steps, coming from the long corridor behind the bedroom door. Then the click of the lock and faint torchlight invading his eyes. He flinched.  He was still alone. The breeze hit his nude body again, and he shivered. 

The drow was still beside him. She didn’t disappear; no hands fell upon her and whisked her away. She was the first person he had slept with in years not being taken away crying and pleading. Yes, right, he was free now. His lips curled up and he closed his eyes, basking in newfound bliss. No matter how much his mind dragged him to that damned mansion, with its dark corners and red carpets, his body firmly rested on the grass, lit up by the moon and the stars. The night could have been cold, but never as much as those four walls that imprisoned him for centuries. 

And it wasn’t all too bad. Astarion could feel the warmth radiating from where his skin touched Leeith’s.  Maybe he should have got closer? She was already protecting him, using their bodies to shield themselves from the elements wasn’t going to be that problematic of a request. He turned to the side, softly, knowing full well how light a trance could be. Maybe it was better not to push his luck. The vampire was free to walk in the sunlight thanks to her protection, guarded from the swords of monster hunters and possible mercenaries sent directly from his dear master Cazador. She had pledged to kill the bastard too: surely a naïve expectation, but it still sparked an inkling of hope in him. 

All of this at a modest price, something he had done for two hundred years to stay alive. He stared down at his bare skin, shame and disgust wrenching and twisting his guts. At least the prostitutes in Sharess's Caress were living in the lap of luxury, not fighting for their life and tortured for the smallest mistake. He wanted to puke, and had to cover his mouth to stop himself. He felt so foul, covered in sweat, both his and hers. His left hand reached up, clawing at his throat and chest: maybe if he peeled his skin off, he would finally feel clean. Something got caught under his nails and the smell of copper hit his nostril, entrancing him.

If there was one saving grace out of all this act, it was the blood. He still smelled it in her neck, now drying up. Some was still on his chin and chest, but had dried up too much to be edible. Not that he needed it since, for the first time in two centuries, he was actually satiated, happy, and his veins saturated with fresh, sentient blood. It felt so good to sink his fangs in warm flesh and to be met with the soul of the person he was drinking. Her joy, her excitement and her warmth, all laid out for him, ripe for the taking like juicy autumn grapes. It was almost worth the disgust that curled his viscera. Again the smile returned on him and the vampire relaxed, closing his eyes and calling upon the memories of what he had just experienced. Maybe this night he was going to dream about that, without Cazador interrupting it to punish him. He was free now. Astarion was just going to dream about Leeith’s elegant neck, searching for her pulsating artery, puncturing her skin, savouring her and at the end… his own pleasure. Countless people had given themselves to him, few able to grant him that moment where everything was void, and he didn't even remember them. But this wasn’t about his climax. Something stirred differently in him this time around, yanking his guts towards a different direction than simple shame. 

The memories of the past days returned to him. That rude awakening on a cliff, where he was sure he was going to die, incinerated by the sun. Fear gripped his heart when he walked out of the pod, but death was probably preferable than living life as a slave. Then relief and the warmth of the sun on his skin, gentle and assuring; his clinginess to life returned now that he experienced a morsel of freedom. The arrival to an old temple where he expected a fight, just for the new leader to lie and intimidate her way in and then, when other bandits attacked, she smiled and laughed at their pain. Maybe the drow wasn't too stupid and useless. The first time he had to give in to his hunger and the drow was alone near the campfire, but she woke, just to laugh in his face at the revelation he was a vampire, as if it wasn’t obvious from the start. So if it was so obvious, why didn’t she curse him and stab him? Why wouldn’t she chase him away instead of letting him feed? 

What a weird woman. But one that could help him. And so it started, his ploy to conquer her favour, met with very little resistance. It was so easy to be with Leeith and it wasn’t just for the fact the drow flirted back. She seemed nice to him, like a friend, someone that wanted to help him. She… had her quirks and surely made hurtful comments, but he couldn’t expect much more from someone whose favourite activity was spilling blood and laughing at people’s fear. Fierce and rich: like a pepper infused chocolate, the spiciness was part of the experience. 

Well, some of her kinks did worry him, but she didn’t seem too focused on trying them out if that night was anything to go by. Along the spiciness, came a soft calming warmth: her fingers tracing the wrinkles of his palm, while she asked him what he wanted for the second time that night. Her hand reaching up to his cheek, bringing him back to ask if it was all fine. And now her arm under his head, as he came back to the present again, in a cold, still night. 

Tonight did feel different. He couldn’t just forget that warmth. And suddenly his gut got yanked again and he realised what was tugging it sideways, away from disgust. Fear. Along came the answer to the question: why was he so worried about her falling in battle today? 

For the first time he was simply… accepted. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter to her. Or at least, even if she got a kick out of being his blood bag, he was more than a monster, more than his condition. Yet today he had been on the cusp of losing the only person who had shown him any amount of warmth in two hundred years. 

Sweet hells, blood was one hell of a drug. 

The only problem now was how to keep Leeith on his side. The sour taste returned to his mouth: to have that, it probably meant more nights like this. 

Leeith’s last dream, before opening her eyes, was of a spider biting her under the watchful eyes of the great matron. The memory of her new life began her day, calming her fears. A wave of peace rushed down her body, waking it. The pleasure was soon replaced by the frigid air of the morning and soreness in most of her muscles, especially her back, which felt stiff like a tree trunk. Her neck hurt so much it was hard to move her head and, just to add insult to injury, her whole shoulder was dark red. Getting up nude on the forest floor was a new experience for her: one could say, there weren’t many trees and grass back in the underdark. 

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. The morning was still young, enough not to hurt her eyes. And how could the light do it, when the vampire was in front of her, hogging it all, basking under a ray of sun. His porcelain skin almost reflected it, giving him an angelic glow. He kept his arms spread, as if he was just waiting to sprout feathered wings and fly off, so unbothered by anything “earthly” that he didn’t even notice her waking up. It would be such a  perfect vision, if it wasn't for an ugly circle scarred into his flesh, surrounded by weird glyphs: its aura was evil. That must have been what she felt under her hands the night before. 

“Not staying in for a cuddle?” She called, surprising the vampire. 

“Mh, I expected you to sleep light, but I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.” He only turned his head, preferring to enjoy the sun on his chest. The drow scoffed at his ego. It’s not like she didn’t enjoy yesterday night, but she did have better in her life, partners enough into it to go for hours. In comparison, Astarion seemed a bit less interested. 

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” If she had to take a  guess, sleeping around as often as he did, probably stunned his enjoyment of sex. 

“I was holding back a little, it’s true. I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were, I didn’t want to go too far.” Something was off about his tone, but he kept speaking before she could dwell on it. “Shall we get on? I want to go before anyone else thanks me for saving their tails.” The drow didn’t move and returned to look at the scar, admiring the craftsmanship. 

“I want to ask about your scars first. Where did you get them?” She was sure she had seen something similar before. The vampire flinched.

“It’s a poem. A gift from Cazador. He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. He composed and carved that one over the course of a night… He made a lot of revisions as he went.” His voice broke down on that last sentence, re-experiencing the agony. Leeith stood up, squinting her eyes. She got close to the vampire and one finger was about to touch the symbol, when the vampire turned around, lowering his arms. A flash of recognition flared her mind.

“Why did he write it in infernal?” Astarion’s eyes shot open and he looked over his shoulder for a moment. 

“Infernal? I… Who knows. The bastard was insane.” His face turned ugly in a frown. “Now let's go. We’ve wasted enough time already.” He walked off, collecting his shirt from the ground. 

The drow looked around for her clothing, but other than a necklace that broke during the act, she didn’t find anything. Something soft hit her in the face and she saw black. In her hands she found the cape, the only article of clothing that she got with her. Astarion was standing proudly farther along on the path. 

“Wouldn’t you prefer seeing my ass while I walk?” She threw the cloak around her shoulders, keeping it closed with one hand. 

“I got my fill last night. It’s better we concentrate on our duties today.” The vampire seemed distant: both his tone of voice and his expressions were cold and uncaring. The drow rolled her eyes and walked behind him without one more word. 

When they arrived in camp, only Lae’zel was awake, busy with her morning exercises. She shot a glance at both of them, returning together from the forest. The Gith spat something in her language and returned to her one-handed push ups. The githyanki had proposed a little rendezvous of their own before with words that were poetic, unexpected coming from an alien warrior. It wasn’t just the old regurgitated, albeit funny, lines of the vampire, nor the pompous and totally stereotypical flare Gale used in his speeches. It was hard to turn down her proposal, however, it had only been a few days since they had met and the drow was still weary of her companions. Judging by Lae’zel expression, she still held a grudge. It didn’t matter, the drow had some fun with Astarion.

Leeith shrugged and went towards a water barrel, throwing the cloak on a rock, uncaring of any peering eyes resting on her nude figure; Lae’zel could admire her body now, if she so wished, as she showered. The barrel was mostly empty, but it would be a waste of time to fetch more water now that they had to dismantle the camp. She dipped a rag into it and carefully cleaned up her blood and sweat. The water in the barrel turned murky as she dipped and washed the cloth. She wondered if Astarion could drink that and be satiated, especially since she wasn’t planning on feeding him for the next few days, to recuperate her energy after almost three days straight of blood loss. She was also going to need a strong coffee and hearty breakfast to make her head stop spinning. 

It took about an hour for everyone to awake and get ready. The plan for the day was that of dispatching the goblins from the village. Everyone was ok with a surprise attack, except the vampire. who would have preferred avoiding a fight completely.

“I’m glad you’re smarter than proudly marching in.” He sighed, already feeling spent. 

“Come on, Astarion, at least you will get to see some blood today.” Said Shadowheart, fixing her braid. 

“Ugh, goblin blood. Hardly anything to cherish. Besides, I’ve already had my fill for today.” He looked down at his nails. “Sure one more little nibble wouldn’t hurt, but I’ve learnt not to be too greedy.” He seemed to have cheered up again, enough to glance at the drow with a raised eyebrow.  

“Spicy.” Said Karlach. Some of the party’s member eyes fell on Leeith after this, but she chose to ignore the comment.

“Karlach, Shadowheart and Astarion, you’ll come. Karlach, I want to test you.” The drow spoke in a commanding tone. “I do not need weaklings with me, so don’t fail me.” She stared at the wizard, who turned his eyes away from her, scowling. 

“And what about me?” Said the Gith. 

“Another day, Lae’zel. We need people who can walk without making noises. Your armour is the opposite of that, unfortunately. Understand me.” The drow’s voice was sweeter now, soothing. The gith still rolled her eyes, but didn’t press the matter further. 

Leeith was on edge, not knowing what to expect. Were they going to get swarmed with beasts and vermin? She was sure she could take a few goblins even alone, the problem was just the amount of enemies who could be around. They attacked from the side, Astarion took out one of the sentinels on the roof and then… What a let down. There were barely any goblins around. Even the big ogres, who they surprised from the roof of a house, were easily killed by their spells and arrows - and left a most precious crown for the drow. Among all the rubble and gore, Karlach was showing off her lifting skills to a smiling Shadowheart, while the vampire piled more stuff over her back. Leeith thought that they wouldn’t notice as she put on the crown, since they were so busy having fun. When that gold headband touched her skin, she was cast into a deep colourful void. She probably stared off into the distance for a moment too long, listening to the chant deep in her psyche. 

“Are you good? What’s with the crown?” Karlach let go of all the stuff she was holding, in a large rumble of wood.

“It’s as if someone whispered the secrets of the universe in my mind. It’s great.” The drow’s  smile reached her ears. 

“Are you sure that thing isn’t cursed, darling? It might explode that pretty head of yours.” Said Astarion, rolling the r in pretty. Leeith took it off to study it and, upon sensing emptiness in her head, promptly put it back on.

“It’s just an intelligence boosting enchantment, no curses or anything, other than - well, it feels bad to take it off and feel normal again. I’ll take this for myself.” 

“I’m sorry, but we fought just as hard. How come you decide who gets the reward?” Shadowheart sounded pretty annoyed.

"Excuse me? I’ve been dividing weapons, armour and items to everyone equally. You get what fits you best. And since I’m the one doing the talking, I would assume having a little extra knowledge would help.” She tapped her temple.

“I’m pretty sure any of us would be able to talk, it’s not some remarkable drow ability.” Continued Shadowheart, looking at the vampire for support.

“I kind of agree, darling. I can stab with my words just like I can with my sword.” He raised his chin in an air of superiority. Leeith waited for Karlach to also talk against her, but the tiefling just wanted everyone to calm down. The drow breathed in deep, relaxed the muscles of her face. She sauntered towards Astarion, her hips swaying elegantly, like a panther on the prowl. She pointed one index at his chest, brushing against his clothes, and circled around him. “Look at me. Tell me, how can you stare into my eyes and refuse me? I will stay by your side and sing your praises forever in your ear.” Her voice was quiet and warm, melodious like a siren deceiving her next prey. Her visage was pure, not betraying any of her intention; unlike the vampire’s smile, too perfect and composed, hers looked as natural as the sun - she even summoned a faint red glow to her cheeks. Ambrosia couldn’t have been sweeter than her appearance. Astarion wanted to pull away from her, but the drow noticed how his eyes flared up in hunger and his tongue licked his fangs. 

She whipped away, facing the cleric once again. All the gentleness and admiration was washed away from her face. Her features were twisted, sneering in disgust and loathing. Her right hand glowed green and purple with a spell.

“Now, dare defy me again, surface dweller, and you will come to know what true fear and pain is like.” Though her eyes were aflame, her voice was like still water. The cleric tensed up, almost trembling under her fervour. The drow let go of the act an instant later, returning to a grin. 

“Karlach, sorry I can’t put up a little show for you, but I hope now you get why I’m the one doing the talking. As a reminder, you don’t get my kind of powers without being able to deceive or entice your patron. If I can do that to a creature much more mighty than all of us together, imagine how a lowly vermin can react.” She smiled again.

Her companion’s eyes darted between one another, until Karlach herself broke the silence. “Well, that’s nice, but can you do this?” She grinned and lifted up a chiselled wardrobe over her head, holding it up like it was just a small wood plank. 

“Yes… If I can threaten it to fly.” 

“Wait- I’m not done.” With a roar, the tiefling launched the wardrobe across the room, flying over Shadowheart and Astarion. They both ducked, the rogue even rolled away in an excess of carefulness. 

“Sweet hells, devil, first my nose and now this?” He screeched, still ready to jump away. 

“Hehe, It’s your fault fangs: you're just too sneaky and I can’t see you.” She placed her fists on her hips and pushed her chest up, looking down at everyone with an aura of grandness. 

“I think maybe it’s best we get going before more goblins show up, with the mayhem we’ve caused.” Said the cleric. The rest agreed and moved along.

With newfound confidence in herself and the group, Leeith went to talk to some goblins who were having fun with a deep gnome. They scattered off after being glared at by the drow. The deep gnome instead, had the good sense to thank her, be grateful for his life and run away. 

They went around the village, pillaging what was left. Most houses were empty and broken down, the only point of interest being a well, smith workshop and across from it an alchemist's shop, all dilapidated. While searching for ingredients for her own potions, Shadowheart found a hatch leading down in a basement full of coffins. The skeletons protecting it, proved themselves a more dangerous foe, but they were all crushed by the barbarian’s raw strength: she swung that sword like it was a hammer, breaking bones and throwing them far. Each slice or arrow that hit her, only served to grow her rage. She was unstoppable and powerful, but lacked the precision and technique of the Gith. 

After exploring around, finding only some rotten food and weird books from a certain Ilyn Toth. The group were ready to leave, generally disappointed with how the day went. The only last thing of note was a giant ornate mirror. It was weird for such an object to be mounted on a wall in a gloomy, humid basement. The guy owning the shop was probably just a madman with even madder interior design, but she still checked it out. At first the only thing she saw was her reflection and that of her companions, minus the vampire. She turned around, raising her eyebrow. 

“I guess the tadpole doesn’t solve this pr-” 

“Spea-k your name.” A face appeared in the mirror, startling Leeith. 

“Ilyn Toth.”  She said, after thinking for a few seconds.

“My master was human. True and pure. You are not Ilyn Toth. If you are his ally, ste-p forward and declare it.” The drow breathed out harshly, too tired to put up with fucking mirror riddles. She could have tried passing off as an ally of whoever this guy was, but didn't want alliances with people she didn't know.

“Open or I'll smash you to pieces - bad luck be damned.” She pointed her thumb at the big fiery tiefling behind her. The mirror’s face disappeared and, with a rumble, it slid away. 

“I think that crown is already working its magic.” Said Astarion, walking past her into the room. The place was fairly big, with books scattered on the floor and on the two large desks facing eachother. The walls were lined with bookshelves and two corners of the room housed small alcoves, with chests and more books. One even had a stuffed bear. As they explored the room, pocketing anything of worth, Shadowheart found a way back to the first room of the basement. Both Astarion and Leeith were much more curious about a little gated room.  

“Someone left a surprise for us.” Announced the vampire, pointing towards a mechanism. 

“Can you do something about it?” Leeith leaned in to look at it better. She could have maybe tried disarming it - she had come across tons of traps in a hundred years working as a criminal - but her fingers weren’t as nimble as the rogue’s. 

“Mhh, maybe. Maybe I could have a little nibble first, for good luck?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“No way in hell, blood-sucker.” She slapped a Guidance on him. “This is all you’re getting until I've had a few days of rest and my blood back.” He rolled his eyes in disappointment and sighed, muttering something about ungratefulness. In a few clicks, the trap was disarmed and the gate opened safely. 

The only thing inside was a pedestal, with a demonic book resting on it. Leeith was about to pick it up, but the vampire stopped her. 

“Wait, it’s trapped. You should really get glasses, darling.” He took out his tools again. 

“Why would I, when I have your perfect eyes around?”

“Because maybe one day I’ll let you walk on a trap to have a laugh.” Another mechanism clicked. Shadowheart and Karlach came over, curious of what was going on. 

“The Necromancy of Thay. Sounds ominous.” Read the drow, picking the tome up. A face with a large open mouth was facing it and the cover felt like being bound in raw skin. Darkness radiated from it, calling to the drow within its folds and pages.

“Please don’t touch the big scary book!” Said Karlach, with a tone halfway between annoyed and scared. 

“Yes, it looks heavy. Give it to me.” Astarion instead was way too eager to have it. The drow turned the tome over, but the lock holding it close didn’t seem to have a key. She shrugged and stuffed it down her backpack, ignoring both of them for the time being. Maybe she would let the vampire have it: he was already cursed with undeath, more necromancy magic through his body couldn't hurt. 

“First we need to find whatever opens this thing. No one’s found a key around here, right?” They shook their heads. “I think it’s best we make it to camp for today, then. We can stay in the town now that it’s safe and sleep with a roof over our head for once. Maybe even a bed and I'll have a warm bath.” With a vision of all these comforts, they left the alchemists’ cellar.

[kmenkea]

Wip comic The Dark Urge, A.Astarion

Planing on uploading it to Halloween. Let's see if I can make it~ It will be just as edgy as it should be xD

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 4 "A night of passion"

Summary: For the first time in days, Astarion and Leeith have an evening free from any burden; an evening they'll spend in each other's cold embrace, laying on a pretty clearing in the forest.

Content: NSFW chapter. (finally) pretty tame sex and a bit of orgasm denial/teasing (the real kinky stuff will come later, dw, I just think their relationship needs to develop more for that). Blood sucking because, you know, hot.

Please comment and tell me what you think or if you have any critiques.

Word Count: 5.5k

Read on AO3

Leeith was in charge of cooking that evening at camp. A few pans were in front of her, frying fresh water fish with a side of mushrooms and carrots. A few times already, someone had jokingly asked if poison was her people's special spice or if she could serve antidotes instead of wine and beer. She really wanted to throw some broken glass in the dinner, since that could kill everyone without it being technically poison, but she still needed her companions. No mass killings today, unfortunately. 

Besides, she wanted to enjoy eating the food she prepared: in the underdark she only had two choices, either go to a tavern where no one had ever heard of her - pretty hard since she led a group of criminals - or learn how to cook. Any other food was probably laced with poisons and it was better to starve and be safe. 

After sunset, everyone got round the campfire for dinner. They inspected their dishes and smelt them conspicuously, except for Karlach and Lae’zel, who ate without a fuss. The drow kept smiling at her companions, explaining the properties of different poisonous mushrooms they had in the underdark, but a certain sense of resentment and loneliness flared up her bile, turning into anger. Sure, she did play into the stereotypes of her people sometimes, especially against her enemies, but not once she had laid a finger against her party, except for Gale, who really only got threatened. If this was going to last much longer, filling up the food of whoever crossed her with poison would be the least she was going to do. 

She glanced at each and everyone of her companions, studying them as they drank and laughed. Few had done nothing to cross her, but it was probably just a matter of time before they too, would betray her trust in some way. It was better to be ready to act and free herself of dead weight before they’d try to cut her in half or make her head explode… or place a dagger in her throat. Astarion was staring at her from behind the fire with a knowing smirk. He wasn’t eating for obvious reasons, but still partook in conversation. 

He wasn’t trustworthy either. His personality would have fit well in the underdark, so sly and agile, the perfect backstabber. Leeith smiled back at him. He was fun though, so he would get a pass for the time being. 

The first to leave the gathering was Lae’zel, who wanted to be ready for the morning, then Shadowheart, after finishing a last cup of wine. Gale, Wyll and at last Karlach went away to take care of things in their tents. Leeith remained in front of the fire pit, readying her small alchemy set. Along with her was the vampire, who was lost with his eyes pointed up, stargazing. For a while, she ignored him, getting ingredients ready in different little pots, glancing between the notes and a small scale to weigh the right amount of herbs and oils. Only when everything was put over coals to heat up gently, did she sit beside the vampire. He noticed her presence getting closer and twisted his head to look at her. There wasn't an expression on his face, neither happiness nor rage. 

"How are you feeling, Astarion?" She crossed her legs, showing him a gentle smile. 

"I'm brooding. Nights like this are made for reliving the best moments of your life." If he was sad or genuine, she couldn't tell. 

"Don't you get enough of that in your trance?" She giggled a bit to ease the atmosphere.

"You see, my memories are not what you could call… charming, darling. But they are quite striking." He didn't seem to pay much mind to what he said, waving his hands in the air like a drama actor. Leeith shrugged: telling him to just remember other things while trancing probably wasn't the greatest advice she could give, so she was left with the next best solution after ignoring the problem.

"Want to get drunk again tonight? Properly this time. And then you can try to beat me at a knife throwing competition." She made the knife spin in the air, the blade still stained in green from some alchemy ingredient. Before she could catch it again, Astarion snatched it by the blade, pointing its handle towards her. 

"I had something better in mind." He sat up to get closer to her. His voice was lower both in tone and volume.

"And what might that be?" She returned a coy little grin, leaning towards him. 

"It's a quiet evening for once. Perfect for two people who want to take some time for themselves, if you catch my meaning." He caressed her jaw with just one finger, lingering for a few seconds on the soft flesh connecting her head and neck. "And I do mean sex, to be clear. We've been waiting long enough." He laughed, letting go of her. Leeith smirked: if it was up to her, she would have already jumped, pin him to the ground and taken her pleasures. A glance around the camp changed her mind.

"Alright, but where will we go?" She held his hand, feeling his cold skin under her thumb.

"Let's find our own little place of nowhere. Somewhere we can lose ourselves and forget all this madness." He motioned at the camp and their heads, trapping her gaze in his. The vampire reached for her shoulder, pulling her closer as if to share a secret. His lips barely grazed on her ear. "There's a secluded place nearby that should do nicely. Wait until the others are asleep, then come find me there."

"I'll see you there." She purred in his ear, tightening her grasp on his hand.

"Indeed you will, my love. I can't wait." They let go of one another, and after one last glance, they both went in different directions. Leeith returned to brew her potions, biting her lips in anticipation and daydreaming about the night to come. 

One by one, candles and torches were snuffed out, plunging the little camp they had in darkness; all shades of grey and black for the drow, but all perfectly visible up to the edges of the hill. Even her campfire had mostly died down, but she didn't care to fix it since she would be going away shortly. The drow was thinking of what they would be doing together, but had very little knowledge of what the vampire actually liked or wanted, except her blood. Even though she had many partners in her life, she was never good at reading what they wanted or preferred. Long term relationships were better for that, but those came with a long list of other problems, ones much harder to deal with. 

Even whilst laying down, she saw Astarion quietly sneak away, in a flash of white. A burst of energy ran down her spine, telling her to jump up and follow him… but it would have been funnier to let him wait, get a bit desperate and arrive just as he realised this might have all been a fluke. And so she waited, getting herself ready for him, fixing her eye liner in the mirror he used, wearing delicate jewellery and a light perfume. If she wasn't camping out in the forest, she would have worn her best underwear, something lacey and silky. The softest thing she had here was her bare skin. 

After making sure everyone was truly asleep, she went for the forest, throwing a long cloak over her shoulders. She didn't really know where this place was, but it couldn't have been too far. The drow paid close attention to any nook and cranny for a silver flash or anything alerting her of the vampire's presence, but even with that knowledge, she was surprised when he appeared right in front of her, wearing only a smile and his trousers. His slim body stood out from the darkness of the trees, almost shining as bright as the moon. He opened his arms, getting closer.

Leeith took a deep breath, letting go of all her worries and grievances for tonight. She wasn't going to let anything spoil her fun: only the gods knew when another moment of respite was going to come and she didn't want to ruin what could have very well been her last one. She bit her lip, feeling a certain tingling sensation build up in her lower abdomen. 

"There you are, I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." With each word he took one small step closer, filling her vision with his presence. "Waiting to have you." He smelled of citrus and rosemary cologne.

"Mhh, you don't have me yet." She smirked, taking one small step backwards. His words were so inviting for the occasion: picture perfect, as if he knew exactly what everyone wanted to hear. He was going to need a bit more effort than that. 

"Don't I? You're here. And, I don't think you want to talk." He lifted his eyebrow in a knowing gaze. "I think you want to be known, to be tasted." His voice turned low and silky, while a hand reached up for her chin, raising it to have a better look. 

"And what do you want?" She reached up to intertwine their fingers, feeling the skin of his hand, every little scar and wrinkle. It was cold like the night, but as soft as autumn air.

"What does everyone want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy." In a rush, he grabbed both of her hands, placing a kiss on each of them, and then on the wrist, running his lips upwards the inner part of the forearm. Leeith was pleasantly surprised by all this fanfare: she was expecting a much more… detached approach to the night: lay on the ground, have fun for some time and be on their way. She wasn't expecting the vampire to still court her.

"Isn't that what you want? To lose yourself in me?" He tensed up as if he was afraid of something, maybe being rejected again, thought the drow. Leeith rolled her eyes at all this cloying sweetness and, with a smirk, unclasped the pin holding her cape. The woollen cloth fell at her feet with a soft thud, revealing her naked body, covered only in a few golden chains. 

The vampire raised an eyebrow, looking at her from head to toe and back: he was surprised, but certainly content with how things were going. Without another moment lost to talk, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Leeith shivered when their naked chests met: she expected heat, what any partner had offered her, but this was closer to hugging a soft marble column. Not that it mattered now, as she crossed her arms above his shoulders, pulling him down towards her. 

His lips were soft and the drow could feel his fangs pressing on her. She grabbed his face, pushing herself closer, so that he'd open his mouth. The taste of his tongue, of his teeth, it was so metallic, like iron and copper. She liked it, and went ahead to twist their tongues together. 

The vampire wasn't going to stand there and take it passively. His hands ran down to her hips, feeling the curve of her bottom, his fingers sank into the soft flesh of her thighs and then swiftly he lifted her high. The drow gasped when she suddenly lost the ground from below her feet, looking down with a smile. The elf pushed her against a tree; The bark was rough against her back, but she had worse in the past; a few scratches weren’t going to intimidate her. 

Astarion kissed her again, but it was just a small peck, enough to have all of the attention back to him. “I’ve got more cards up my sleeve.” He caught her gaze and went for her mouth, clinging to her warm body, pushing himself ever closer. Leeith locked her legs tighter, not because she was afraid to slip, but to feel all of him. His hard muscles, tensed from lifting her, the little scars all over his back, from ancient battles or… something worse probably. No reason to think about that now and bring down the mood. 

No, what she was concentrating on was much more appealing, firing her mind with images and possibilities. With her legs so tight around his hips, she could feel his hard length pressing on her core. It must have been painful to have it so constricted, but it was even more painful for her to feel it rub against her clit, sparking a faint pleasure that inflamed her, rising so slowly it almost annoyed her. She was greedy and already wanted a lot more than just some kisses and his hands groping her ass. 

She planted both her feet on the tree behind her and pushed them. Astarion lost his balance, stumbled back a few steps, and fell down on the cold grass. The drow lunged on top of him like a feral beast, placing her hands at either side of his head. Her short hair cascaded in front of her face, wild like the look on her eyes. She grinned and bit her lip, admiring Astarion below her. His curls were a bit less perfect and his face had a tinge of shock. It disappeared in an instant, as he grabbed her hips and forced her to sit down on him. She tasted iron and copper again, as they both claimed each other’s mouth. 

And then the vampire raised his hips, rubbing his length on her and earning a small moan. Leeith felt so turned on: she didn’t know if it was the fact she hadn’t fucked in so long or if she just wanted him that much, but she was sure her pussy had started to throb and claim more. She sat up, panting and licking her lips. If it was any normal man, the drow would have already tied his hands up, slashed his trousers and pants and taken her pleasures. Any male drow would have been more than fine with that and she wouldn’t care about a surface dweller, but the vampire was another problem: whips and ropes or any other fun tool were probably out of the picture. She took one deep breath to calm herself, then grabbed his right hand, gently raising it up. 

“Is there anything you don’t like, Astarion? What is it that you don’t want me to do?” Her thumb again went to feel his skin, slowing the pace of their act. 

“Darling, if I’m bedding a drow it is because I want it wild and risky. Where’s all the energy from earlier, mh?” He tightened his grip on her hips and tried to push her to the side, but she stood her ground and smiled gently. Leeith broke eye contact to look at her finger following the wrinkles of his palm, caressing them gently. 

“I don’t want you to pull out any dagger or weapon - except the ones in your pants and mouth, to be clear - nor cast any spells without asking.” She locked her eyes on his again. His expression had mellowed out, from a cocky and pompous one, to serious and huffed. “Show a blade anywhere near the vicinity of me, and I’ll be the one to blast your body against a tree.” He took a few seconds to answer, his hand following the line of her thigh down to the ground. 

“I- I don’t want you to pose as my mistress or owner.” There was pain in his voice, but an instant later his defences were up again and all the sorrow was hidden behind a snarky smirk. “Like asking a fish not to swim, I know. Woe is you, little drow.” He chuckled and, this time with more force, managed to get back up on top of her. Leeith laughed, letting him take control. 

Astarion was gently following the curves of her body, avoiding the many little scars that punctuated it. His soft touch made her shiver when he reached the waist, yet his fingers kept creeping downwards, past her navel, threatening to give her pleasure at any moment. She needed that, but she wanted something else before, something that could make the whole night a lot more magical.

The drow raised his head by the chin, and with just a smile, freed her neck from any hair, exposing the puncture scars. 

“Why don’t you take something? A little boost of energy for the night.” He stopped dead in his tracks, travelling back up with both his eyes and head, up to her face. He pressed his cock back between her legs, making her just imagine what would await. Without a second thought, Leeith crossed her limbs behind his back, pulling him even closer to grind on him. The faint pleasure made her pussy drool and protest, growing more and more uncomfortable. 

“You’re such a delectable little pet.” He huffed, ravaging her neck with kisses and tiny little bites. Astarion lifted her head up to give himself more space and, an instant later, the bite arrived, along the mind twirling, ravishing pain that came with it. The drow loudly moaned, arching her back as her blood flew in his mouth. She grasped at his locks and shoulders, needing something to keep her stable while he sucked on her skin. 

God it felt so good! The blood turned him on fire, it seemed like it would give him the energy to do all that he wanted the whole night. He felt his trousers grow way too tight and uncomfortable, so much so that, while still attached to her neck like a tick, he had to kick them off. Their souls were meeting and just as he grew more and more excited, she followed, no doubt feeding on each other's desire. The vampire’s hand cupped one of her breasts, twisting and squeezing her nipple harshly. She whined and moaned, sinking her nails in his back and raising her hips, rubbing her wetness on his now uncovered boner, almost able to catch the tip, slide it deep inside them and finally free them. She already wanted to give in, to pierce her wet cunt and fill her with his cum by the end.

He never had a woman be that needy below him: desperately clinging to him for any amount of pleasure, wetting his cock so much, without it even being inside, and above all, pushing his head on her neck to suck more. For a moment it felt… nice. But it was fleeting. 

The connection broke and her body went limp, tired. Dizziness overtook him and he knew he had his fill. It was the time to respect his part of the deal. 

His tongue ran up on her neck, still bloodied and red, trying to clean as much as possible. Leeith was more than burning. She needed to get her legs spread and cunt filled instantly. She cupped his cheeks, not caring about the blood running down her shoulders and breasts, and forced their lips together. She had to agree, as their tongues danced together, fresh blood was delicious, but like a savoury broth, not honeyed wine. 

His hands were running everywhere on her, sometimes caressing her, giving her shivers, others clenching and twisting, holding her down by the waist or pinching her thighs and ass. His tongue trailed down from her lips back to her neck, following the droplets of blood past her collarbones and on her breasts. The drow bit her lips as he started to play with her nipples, twisting it around his tongue and suckling the blood that had run off. She stared at him half lidded, running her nails on his back, feeling his bumps and scars. Her hands went down to his crotch, feeling the lower part of his abdomen with her thumbs. She tried to get closer to his manhood, but the vampire stopped her, pinning her wrist to the ground. 

“Just relax and let me take over, darling.” He whispered in between kisses and soft bites. “My debts are way overdue.” 

Astarion’s fingers began caressing her inner thighs, up and down, each time getting closer to her core. They traced the outside of her lips, making Leeith squirm and moan in anticipation. But every time he’d get near, he would remain just shy of her clit, instead biting harder on her nipple, so that she’d feel his fangs leaning on her flesh. 

“Stop- teasing me, elf.” She said, annoyed at how long it was taking to get to the main course. The elf lifted his head and stared at her smirking. At once, his fingers went deep, down to the knuckle, and then out, swiping upwards and flicking her clit on the way. She yelped in surprise, melting under his touch. All the displeasure though returned, when he stared at his shining fingers against the moonlight. 

“But I enjoy teasing so much. How else would I be able to get you this wet?” He kissed her jaw, then started whispering. “Gods, how can you be so aroused? Is it all because of me, mh, pet?” He fingered her again, this time taking his time to explore all of her folds, putting only the softest of pressures. Her pussy was so slick, as he went up and down it, circling her clit, then inserting just the tip of his fingers, enough to coat the rest of her in juices. Leeith tried to ease her muscles, to relax and drown in the pleasure. She shut her eyes, concentrating on his motions. With every circle he went just a bit deeper, a bit faster, until one of his slender fingers was deep in her, touching the sensitive mound inside of her. She moaned when he added another finger, all the while still taking care of her breasts. His fingers curled and cut, feeding the flames. 

“Astarion.” She whimpered. Her hands were shaking, but she grabbed his head all the same, to look in his eyes. “I want more. I want you to- fuck me properly.” She tried to keep her voice steady and assertive, but it was hard while the vampire fingered her so frantically and her skin was covered in goosebumps. Astarion just smiled, and added another finger to the mix. The drow threw her head back and tried clenching her thighs, but Astarion was firmly in the middle. 

“You squirm so gorgeously, darling. But I am an understanding man.” He took away all of his fingers, leaving her cunt to clench around nothing. “You just have to say the magic little word.” His hands went back to roam about her skin, while he better positioned himself between her legs. Gods, she could feel his hard cock swipe up and down her slit, barely pressing in her entrance, just to move up again. She couldn’t help but grind her hips a little. She felt her pride torn to shreds for being in this position under not only a man, but a surface elf at that. Lolth would have not looked at her kindly. But he was a vampire, so maybe he had to get a pass. 

“Ugh… Please.” She bit her lips and furrowed her brow, but her reddened cheeks still gave away her arousal and loosening conviction. 

“Mh? What did you say?” The vampire pushed her hips down to the ground, so that she couldn’t move anymore, removing even the little bit of respite that came from grinding on him.

“Please, I would like to get fucked now, blood sucker.” She huffed, pulling him closer by the waist.

“Tks, still a bit too feisty, but I can work on that.” Astarion spread her legs apart, sliding his cock on her wet folds, stirring small shivers of pleasure in the drow. The tip of his dick tested her entrance. There was some resistance, as the tight walls of her cunt adjusted to him. Leeith whimpered against his ear: She knew he was big and she hadn’t had any fun in a while, but didn’t expect it to feel so… shattering, almost unable to fit. He slowed down, moaning for how tightly his girth was being swallowed. 

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” The question puzzled the drow. 

“Uh? I mean, I can act as one. I’ve heard virgin blood tastes better.” She chuckled, crossing her legs above his back and arms behind his nape. 

He closed the gap between their faces and bit her lower lip, enough to draw blood with his fangs. “You’re already delicious enough” He purred. 

With all doubts cast aside, he slammed himself down on her. She saw stars and arched her back, yelping in surprise. That didn’t stop the vampire, who simply bit her lip again, the taste of blood reinvigorating his cock. He pulled out slowly, making her feel every inch of his dick leaving her body. And then she had to endure as he pushed his length back in her, down to the hilt. A few tears left from the side of her eyes, as she bit her hand, the pleasure coursing through her. But he was still toying with her, probably enjoying how her thighs clenched around him and her walls pulsed around his girth. The drow raised her hips to meet him and pushed him inside with her legs. Astarion grinned and pressed his thumb on her clit. 

“Alright alright. I’ll quit the games. Just don’t start crying when it gets too much.” His voice dropped to a husky tone, whilst his free hand pinned her wrist on the ground. 

“Be glad I’m not the one riding you.” She moaned back, urging him to move. Without a second thought, he began thrusting in and out of her, one hand at the side of her head for support, the other pleasuring her clit in tempo with his motions. She moaned and grappled him closer, raising her hips to give him a better angle. Judging by all the noises her pussy was making, she must have been a wet mess, drooling all over his thick, long cock. It was reaching deep in her, stretching her walls and filling every sensitive crevice. His pace was constant and steady, fast enough to pleasure the both of them without getting overwhelming. The pace of an expert, who had done this again and again. His thumb circled around her clit, never giving it a moment to rest, keeping Leeith's entire body locked in pleasure.

Her voice grew higher and her hands went everywhere on his body, now slightly warm thanks to the fresh blood coursing through. His cock felt the warmest, still pumping relentlessly, pushing further and further, breaking each and every barrier. The drow trebled in pleasure, feeling a weight raising in her core. It was very hard to keep herself from digging her nails into his flesh.

She opened her eyes and playfully bit his neck, wanting to also leave a purple bruise on his perfect ivory skin and hear a moan or groan escape from his closed lips. Astarion didn't react, his eyes lost somewhere deep in his mind. Leeith cupped his cheek, gently caressing his smooth face . 

"Are you alright?" She whispered. Maybe he was just concentrating on his thrusts. The vampire looked down, dumbfounded at first, then smirking. 

"How could I not be, darling?" He sat up, trailing his hands on her thighs, down to the ankles. "I think we both just need a little bit more excitement." with that he lifted both her legs on his shoulders and tugged her closer, hitting his thighs with her buttocks. 

“Gods, I love where this is goin- ahh!” she was interrupted by him plunging his cock back inside of her, thumb back on her clit and ramming in her like nothing had ever happened. Her cunt was quick to fire up again, clenching around his boner even harder than before. The sensation of being full, the pleasure stemming from her insides and coating her brain in a soft, fluffy glaze. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her blood rush through her ears. The vampire’s hands were rough on her, one relentlessly pleasuring her, the other sinking in her flesh, reddening it. Her noises were uncontrollable, no matter how hard she bit her lip or covered her mouth with her hands; she decided not to even care, moaning and calling for gods like her life depended on it.

The pleasure was so deep, always shy of touching her cervix and hurting her, but pounding her sweet spot again and again. With each thrust, some juices left her, drooling down her ass. With each thrust, the weight in her core built up, as if more and more chains were locking it.

She admired Astarion, who was looking down at her legs, preoccupied with his motion. Even him though, no matter how hard he was trying, judging by his furrowed brow, couldn't contain his moans and groans much longer. The more her pussy squeezed his cock, the less thin his lips became, until they finally parted and a moan escaped them, followed by a sigh of relief. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, circling and flicking it vigorously, not a second to rest and let her come down from the high. 

Leeith was trying to meet his thrusts, while she held his hands, just gently following them. The closer she got to her orgasm, the harder it was to concentrate and move at the same pace, her hips rolling quicker, in an effort to release sooner. Astarion steadied them, but even he was getting more sensitive. The chains in Leeith’s core grew and grew, but the lock was finally getting undone. Her pussy throbbed and squeezed hard around his cock, wanting to keep him in. It was amazing he still managed to move inside of that clamp. 

“Astarion-” She breathed out at last, clenching his forearm. “Keep going… I- I’m about to come.” She loosened her muscles, ready to let herself reach her peak. 

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so.” He almost growled. He grabbed both of her wrists, pushing them above her head. He leaned in on her, bringing her legs down with him. “You’re holding on until I am ready.” He spanked her ass before squeezing it. “And then I’ll want to hear you beg.” The drow chuckled and held his head with her free hand. 

“Now it’s getting good, blood-sucker!” She forced his mouth open, crashing their faces together. His hips were completely lost, the urge to come making them erratic and brutal. He was ramming her without any care in the world, plunging his cock balls deep. If a few minutes ago he was trying to carefully pick her locks, now his desire was just that of smashing the door down. She was dangerously close to coming, but so was him for how much his cock throbbed. 

“Ast-arion… may I?” She whispered directly in his ear, breathy and low. It sent shivers down his spine, his cock hardening and ready to burst. 

“Come for me, pet.” He groaned. He glanced at her neck, still crimson with blood. He couldn’t resist. 

Leiiths felt his fags sink deep. The pain overwhelmed her just as much as the pleasure did, all in one moment. She shut her eyes, blood rushing to her ears and to her shoulder. Someone called his name right in his ear. An overwhelming pleasure consumed him as the drow tensed and squirmed under him. He could feel her come around his aching length, squeezing the life out of him like a succubus. The blood spilled into his mouth, coating it like a syrup, breathing life into his long dead lungs and heart. For just an instant, he felt his heart flutter alive. An instant later, he moaned: bliss, the most he had ever felt in two hundred years, finally saturated his body, making his muscles shake and tremble. He sank both his fangs and his cock more in her, as he came, filling her with his thick, warm cum, just as he was drinking her scarlet, sanguine liquor. Their brains were fuzzy and inebriated. Their pleasure mixing and multiplying against each other.  At the end, his muscles gave in, falling on her, cock still throbbing gently. She was warm and soft. 

The drow panted, her fingers caressing Astarion’s back gracefully. It seemed like he didn’t want to move away from her. The drow tapped his shoulder, wanting to shift to the side: now that it was calm, she discovered soreness in her back and the weight wasn't helping. Fortunately the elf rolled to the ground, extending his arms to the sides like a snow angel. Without asking, she rested her head on his forearm, gaining a weird glace from the vampire. In all answer, she extended her own arm, sliding it behind his head. 

Her cheeks were still flushed, giving them a purplish hue when mixed with her blue skin. 

"It's much better than bare earth, no?" She smiled.

[kmenkea]

Bloodlust - Part 3

Summary: A bunch of hectic days are ahead of the party, but even through the fight, they manage to bond. Astarion finds himself worried when his favourite travelling companion falls in battle.

A/N: I think the only thing I have to say, is that this fanfic is moving very slow, as I'm taking my time to write and expand on the relationship, rather than just rush to the cool heart-warming romance part (and the ehhh, less wholesome parts which are coming with part 4 (which is already written btw, I'm just lazy and keep playing the game instead of posting)). Well, tell me if I should speed things up, or if it's fine to keep it slow and write for a lot longer.

Read on AO3

Word count: 4.4k

This sketch is very rough, but I liked the expressions on their faces

As always, mild spoilers for act 1

The two days that followed were, to put it lightly, an absolute turn off. First, they ran into a small barn house where two lovebirds were having a moment and didn’t take the intrusion lightly. The jokes around the fire that night were way too raunchy and disgusting for either Leeith or Astarion to hide away together, without thinking of what they had seen and be weirded out. It was fun though. For the first night, they actually all drank and got together around the fire like friends. Before, everyone would just quietly sit alone, maybe one or two people would have a conversation together, but most were stiff and distant from each other.

The next day, they went back to that path, dead hyenas littered the cobblestone street. One of them was panting and howling, clearly in pain. Leeith moved closer, hoping to help it, or at least end the pain, but the animal exploded in her face: a gnoll was birthed right in front of her. And the underdark was the horrifying place? No one had ever told her about gnoll reproduction, because even down there few things were worse.

Even if a bit beaten up, they managed to kill the two metres tall babies that were born in front of them. They made camp on a nearby hill, recounting all the grossest and most gruesome details of every creature they knew. Once night fell, Leeith remained alone in front of the fire, observing it fly and twirl. A bottle of wine was by her side, but she only took small sips. She didn't know what it was, but her mood had turned more sour than the contents of that bottle. Going back in her mind through these days, she realised the great weight she was carrying over her shoulders, how insignificant she truly was. Part of her wanted to just let go, be turned into an octopus and lose herself forever. She wasn't scared of death and ceremorphosis didn't sound far from it. But just… she couldn't just let go of life now. The people she was travelling with would have been fine without her, they were capable enough and she didn't care what they did of their lives if it didn't influence her own; her goddess, that was the only reason she had to life, she couldn't squander it after she had given it back to her. 

A cold hand touched her shoulder, making her jump. She never noticed just how silent the vampire's steps were. He sat down, throwing his arm around the drow. She didn't welcome him, but she was glad to have been pulled away from her thoughts.

"Shall we depart, my sweet? I want to enjoy this night." He kissed her jaw and gently bit her skin. She didn't respond, just shrugging her shoulders. The offer was tempting, but… the melancholy had taken a strong grip on her heart.

"Maybe another day, if it's all the same to you." She drank a sip of wine, then offered the bottle to her courter. "I'm drier than this wine right now." She chuckled. Astarion scoffed and tried the wine. He made a disgusted face while reading the tag. 

"Are you the one changing your mind? Mhph, here I thought I would get to taste you tonight." There was something in his voice, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Some kind of anxiousness. She had just rejected him or maybe he was just annoyed by going hungry another day. 

"You can still drink me if you want." She offered her wrist. "Sorry for not giving you blood yesterday, I was too tired." She grabbed the bottle back from his hands, taking one long swig. 

"A tempting offer, darling, but I'm afraid that vinegar spoiled your blood." His arm fell from her shoulders. Leeith felt bad for him: under the arrogant and indifferent masque, there was a whole lot of annoyance. And she couldn’t have him annoyed and resentful towards her.

"Mhh, come on darling, let me make it up with you. I'll get something better to drink so we can get shitfaced and my blood will taste sweet again, then you have your fill of me." She bit her lip, placing a hand on his chest and leaning towards him a bit. Even if it wasn't what he wanted, the offer of blood was just too tempting to pass: she could see it in the way his eyes glanced at her wrist and his fingers wanted to wrap themselves around it. He was still a slave to his sanguine hunger.

Astarion agreed at the end. As the night progressed, the drow got drunker and drunker, her smile growing wider and wider, while the liquor did its magic. Even the vampire senses were getting duller, his quips and remarks less on point, though he was drinking a lot less. Somehow, they were enjoying each other's presence and having fun as friends would. They didn't finish the bottle before the drow, gulping her last sip, put it aside. 

"I- think I'll- stooop." She mumbled, laying down on her bedroll and looked at Astarion with a smile. "Come get your priiiize!" She hummed happily, exposing her neck. 

The vampire didn't need to be asked twice. Gently, he cradled her head, keeping it on one side. Leeith shivered, feeling his body, made warm by the fire, come down on her. Somewhat she regretted rejecting his advances, but even in that state, she knew she was too drunk to go back on the decision. The bite arrived, icy as always, and she tried to let herself go, but a certain sadness returned. Hers, his, it was hard to tell.

Anxiety mixed with drunkenness and a sprinkle of remorse was all they offered to each other. Astarion was waiting to breach her mind, but the connection never came. Did he do something wrong? Did he upset her in any way? Were his techniques not working anymore? That couldn't be: she did still offer her blood. Part of him was glad he didn’t have to act, he didn’t have to use himself to get what he needed. But what would he do once she’d get bored of him? He knew perfectly well Leeith wasn’t the kind to do things without a prize coming her way. It was better to forget for now, just focus on her blood, burning his throat with alcohol. 

The elf left her neck, licking his lips to catch any runaway droplet. Leeith's head was spinning like a cartwheel, between the wine and the bloodloss. She didn’t even try to sit back up or clean her wound, preferring to just pull up her blanket.

“Already tired, darling? I hope you’ll be able to keep up with me tomorrow.” He got up, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll make you- regret theshe wordsh. I’ll- suck you dry.” She slurred, twisting her body in a more comfortable position. “Good ng- nee- night, Assstarion. Ass-tarion, hehe.” Her mind left the material plane for that of memories before he could respond.

The next day, after guzzling down a weird concoction against hangovers, they continued on to a tollhouse on the bridge. There, some paladins of Tyr were looking for the same devil Leeith's group was searching. They had taken residence in that building: it was pretty large, with a main room full of barrels and crates and a desk at the centre piece, it communicated with a smaller upper floor thanks to two ladders. Another room was on the side, which served as kitchen and sleeping quarters. It also had a basement, but they chose to save the plunder for later. The drow offered her help to the paladins: it was better to stick together in case the wanted woman proved dangerous.

When they did find her, she looked pretty badly put, hiding away at the edge of a river and… on fire? How was she not dead or screaming her lungs out? What kind of devil was she? Leeith, Shadowheart and Lae’zel moved closer, while the rogue remained behind, crossbow already in hand. The devil saw them arrive and… smiled. Her hand never got close to her axe nor her words showed hostility. The drow heard her story and at the end, decided to invite Karlach in. 

According to the tiefling’s words, they were going to need all their firepower to beat these imposter paladins. 

“Alright we’ll do it this way: Karlach you’ll come with us. Shadowheart and Lae’zel, you go back to camp and tell the wizard to come here. I want to test if his magic is powerful enough - and I hope it is because these guys don’t seem to joke around. Don’t mention anything about this to Wyll. You will keep an eye on him and stop him if he tries to come here, understood?” 

"Aye aye, captain." Scoffed Shadowheart. 

In silence, the two went away. The tension between them was palpable as always, but they seemed to understand how to keep their animosity in check for the greater good. 

The trio waited for the arrival of the wizard, chatting with their new companion, asking her about wars and the hells, which she was pretty happy to recount. Her jovial attitude did put a smile on Leeith's face, along with her need for violence. She did care a bit too much about the wellness of others, so the drow wasn't sure how well she'd mix with her way of things. 

Her line of thought was broken by a voice. "Hello there." It said. 

"Good, you arrived." She said upon seeing the wizard. "Gale this is Karlach, Karlach he's Gale, our mage, finally out on adventure." She added ironically at last. Gale was a bit confused upon seeing the tiefling, but still smiled.

"A pleasure to meet you." He greeted her warmly, extending a hand. 

"Might be better I don't touch that, soldier." She beat her chest and more flames came out of her skin.

"Ah. I know something about dangerous things inside your chest." He laughed. Leeith rolled her eyes: the guy was really a money sink and dared get angry at her when she probed his mind for more information, as if she was just going to have a random guy eat her stuff and, worse of all, insult her and her patron's magical abilities. 

"Far from me to interrupt you, but can we stop with pleasantries and go do our job? We're not exactly hidden away." The drow stood up, waiting for her companions to follow her. Gale sighed and mumbled something about patience. Her head was throbbing too much to pick up a fight with him now.

"I do so want to sink my teeth into a paladin. I wonder what holy blood tastes like." Commented the vampire in a dreamy voice, walking away.

“They’re not paladins, they’re imposters.” Corrected Karlach, fidgeting with her greataxe. 

“Ahh, but can’t you just let a man dream-” The elf was interrupted by a swing getting way too close to his nose “Sweet hells! Can you put that damned thing down! I’m right here!” He screamed, jumping a few steps back like a startled cat. Karlach looked mortified, but still jolly, as she hid the weapon behind her back. 

After a few chuckles and jokes at the expense of the vampire, they returned to the tollhouse. Leeith ordered everyone to stop talking and put up their most serious faces. She was going to at least try and talk their way out of this situation, hopefully the paladins weren't the liars the tiefling said they were. And if things turned sour… she motioned to Astarion to go towards the back of the building, strike from the shadows if combat started. 

The rest went past the slaughter corpses of gnolls left on the bridge and towards the main door, which was open. But something was off.

The closer she got, the more a sense of impending doom spread in her mind. The tadpole squirmed inside her brain: it felt like an arrow had gone through her eye. She scratched it, praying to Lolth this wasn't the start of her transformation. Not now, after so long. 

But the pain wasn't physical, it was more like a heavy curtain falling on her shoulders, smothering her. She proceeded forward, showing no signs of her discomfort to her companions.

A flash struck her mind: she saw Karlach dead on the ground, Gale limping away and herself laying face down on the floor, in a pool of her own blood. What was that? 

She glanced over to the people behind her, but they seemed relaxed. The vision, it felt… like a déjà vu. Was that premonition or just anxiety? She couldn't stop now, they were basically in front of the door, just one more step and she would have locked eyes with the man.

Another flash made her whimper in pain: no, the man wasn't a paladin. He was going to use that sword against them in an effort to kill Karlach. 

"What's the meaning of this? Why is the devil with you?" Shouted the man from behind his desk, hurrying to stand up. What should she do?

Karlach walked past her, starting to say something to explain herself. The drow's head throbbed again. Maybe it was just the alcohol, still inebriating her mind. But…

"Dolor!" She shouted, as the warlock aimed for that traitor's head. Tingling rose on her shoulder, flowing down her arm like a growing wave of spiders; realising the blast made her arm recoil backwards, but the man was still hit on the chest by a bolt of force, making him gasp for air.

"You fucking worms. Zariel will have your head!" The man unsheathed his greatsword and jumped over the desk. Karlach was already drawing her weapon and, in a burst of flames, she lowered it on the paladin's shoulder, leaving a dent in his armour. 

"I thought we were going to speak with them!" Cried Gale, as a spell was forming around his hands. He glanced around, still confused. Another enemy was in the room, an halfling who seemed about ready to shoot Karlach. A ray of lighting left his fingertips, shocking the archer. A painful scream arose from the other room

Leeiths head cleared up, the foreboding sensation finally gone. She scanned the area, her lips ready to cast another spell: Gale could take the halfling archer alone, the real problem was the paladin. She pointed her index at the man and a curse mark appeared over his cheek, then she blasted him again. He glared at her, but couldn’t move past the mountain of infernal muscle that was the tiefling. He attacked her, a sweep so swift that it could have cut a person in half, if the barbarian hadn’t stepped aside; a large gaping wound still tore her abdomen, spitting fire and blood, but she just seemed reinvigorated by the pain. An arrow went just past Gale, who retaliated with another lighting shock. 

Both the tiefling and drow continued their assault on the fake paladin, but his battle senses were in full operation and the attacks didn’t hurt him as much as they should have. He swung at Karlach again - his strikes empowered by an enchantment - this time wounding her arm pretty badly, almost making her lose her weapon. The halfling used a spell against the wizard and this time the arrow struck true, forcing the mage to drop his spell and glance at the pool of blood quickly soaking his robe. Even if in pain and on his last legs, he called upon more of his magic, and the halfling too was left within an inch of her life, but not quite dead. 

Something felt off again to Leeith, watching Karlach fight in the first lines alone. She still tried to hit the paladin, but her mind was too preoccupied with thinking and missed her target. The tiefling hit him with all her might, sending him against his desk coughing blood. Maybe it was going to be fine.

Another scream ruptured her eardrums, this time coming from Gale, who fell down on the ground, unconscious. The halfling focused on Leeith, smirking and marking her for dead next. Before she could react, pain exploded on her hip, as she found an arrow sticking out of her abdomen. WIth anger bubbling inside her, she limped away from the desk to get a clearer shot. She launched her finger forward, calling on her patron’s shared energy. A second later, the lifeless body of the halfling hit the wall, as blood poured out from her mouth and eyes, the blast having crushed her internal organs to a pulp. The paladin shoved Karlach aside and ran to the drow, greatsword raised high past his head. With a burst of adrenaline and panic, she managed to get away, but slipped on someone’s blood, falling to the ground. Karlach was right behind the paladin, using the handle of her greataxe to choke him and pull him away from the helpless drow. He pushed her against the desk, but she wouldn’t let go of her grasp. 

Leeith crawled away from the two wrestling mountains, her hand shuffling through her pockets for a potion. A flash of magic caught her eyes: from the door to one side a wounded and bloodied woman appeared. The magic missiles she casted kicked out whatever vitality she had left, and her vision darkened. In the last moments of consciousness, she looked around for Shadowheart, but she was nowhere to be seen. A male voice screamed.

“No, you can’t die. Get up, damn you.” Astarion arrived in the other room, just as Leeith fell. The woman he had fought against all this time turned around, ready to hit him too, but the elf parried the blow and slipped away from her, running towards the drow. 

The paladin was still alive. He knew the tactic well, what Leeith had ordered everyone to do in every fight: Lae’zel and Shadowheart would go in front, protected by their armour, while the drow and himself would stand behind, picking off enemies from a distance. If anyone fell, “Let them kiss the ground and focus on killing; they can lick their wounds after the battle is over.” But the two women were nowhere to be seen and the situation was dire. 

His intestines twisted and tugged at the sight of the drow struggling for her life. He felt like he couldn’t just let her go. No, she was too important, he needed her to protect him. He needed her blood and flavour. And something else he couldn’t quite put his fingers upon, something that reminded him of yesterday’s evening, as they drank and chatted; that reminded him of all the little pleasantries she’d do for him, having his back both in fights and in conversation, the things she would give just to him, like that potion. 

He reached in his pockets for the bottle, removing the cork with his teeth and emptying the contents in her mouth. The human woman used this as an opportunity to attack him but, quick as a cat, he rolled away from the fire bolt, just as Leeith's eyes shot open and she gasped for air.  

He reached for his crossbow and the bolt plunged itself under the enemy's chin, right where two bite marks still bled. Her hands reached up at her throat. She tried to scream but only some gurgly noises came from her mouth, then her eyes rolled up and she fell. 

Astarion pointed his weapon at the paladin, who was still in a lock with Karlach. They both looked pretty rough, but the tiefling had the upper hand. Seeing the elf ready to strike, she kicked the man away from her. The rogue shot a bolt which hit his thigh. The paladin fell to his knees: Karlach swung her axe one last time, beheading the traitor. 

The bloodbath was over. They had only an instant to rest, before rushing to the mage: he was still alive, but he needed help. The drow could only dull his pain with a healing potion, but at least he was out of death’s door.

Karlach was enraged, panting heavily and clenching every muscle in her body, as if she was fighting against herself. She cursed at Zariel, growling like a bear.

“Burn their corpses, tear this whole place down.” Coughed Leeith, dragging Gale’s body outside. The barbarian roared and, in a burst of flames, split the desk in half. She swung her axe at every object in the room, setting the wooden floor on fire wherever she stepped.

Astarion and Leeith watched from a careful distance, both sitting down. The rogue barely had any scratch marks on his pretty, delicate face. 

“I thought you weren’t going to need potions, darling.” Teased the vampire. The drow glared at him, as she checked the arrow sticking out of her abdomen: only part of the tip had managed to penetrate her skin but it still hurt like hell.

“Shut up, blood sucker- Nngh- Fuck!” She bit down on her glove and pulled out the arrow. Her scream was muffled, but tears formed in her eyes. After taking a few breaths, she untied the lower part of her gambeson, to check on the new soon-to-be scar she had acquired. Her shirt was all red and it hurt to lift up from the wound since it was stuck in it. Blood was pouring pretty copiously, but not enough to worry, and the wound looked clean, with the edges already starting to heal thanks to the potion. 

An elegant porcelain finger caressed her hip, turning scarlet as blood pooled on the little crevices and wrinkles of the skin. As quick as it came, it disappeared, and Astarion ran his tongue over his hand, slowly and weirdly sensually. Leeith didn’t speak, but her expression still warranted an answer. 

“It’s free blood, my sweet. Why should I let it go to waste? The pain makes its flavour even richer.” The vampire lips were very red with leftover blood; he licked them clean. 

“You’re a gluttonous one. I fed you yesterday!” The drow uncorked another small vial and put it at Gale’s lips, slowly pouring the liquid down his throat. The mage coughed as he regained consciousness. 

“Very much so, dear. I even fed on that woman who so gently killed you, but human blood is not even half as delectable as yours.” His voice was as soft as honey when he talked, flowing gently from his lips to her ear. He placed his hand on her sane hip, leaning closer. 

“Cloud  I- cough - not wake up to- you two flirting.” The mage’s voice was strained and low as he tried sitting up. 

"Think you should thank your lucky stars that you woke up at all." Said Leeith, gently pushing Astarion away. 

"How- fortunate." He breathed heavily, trying to steady his voice. "What happened to- speaking with the men? Surprise attacks should be a- gods- a surprise for them, not us." 

"I got a bad feeling about it. A flash of our dead corpses if you will… more dead than now." The drow stood up, looking inside the building for the tiefling. She was sitting in a corner, panting. She seemed to have calmed down. 

"Gods, another one of your flashes? Like with the bear?" Said the vampire with a mocking tone. 

"Are you going to bring out the bear thing every time I remember I have to do something?" She said, turning around towards them.

"Absolutely yes. I love to twist the knife in the wound." He grinned reassuringly. 

 "That's what makes you truly charming, blood sucker." Said the drow, earning a hum of approval from Astarion. 

"Thank you, darling. You're allowed to compliment me more." 

"Sorry to- interrupt again, but you and I both still need medical assistance. Or are you going to stay- here to…" He waved his hands up in the air and a few sparkles and coloured smog came out. "Do your magic?" 

"Huff, I suppose it's true. Though I would have been fine if someone didn’t kiss the ground first and break formation." The drow turned to the building again, and called out Karlach. 

Once all together again, they decided to rest for a bit more, since Gale couldn’t walk nor anyone carry him. More resentment started to build up in Leeith, watching the wizard very slowly regain his ability to move, after popping another potion. If Shadowheart had been there, they would have already been patched up and ready to go, rather than lose precious time looking at the corpses rot. 

The drow couldn't bear staying idle for more than fifteen minutes. She explored the premises alone, while the other three had fun and laughed, but didn’t find more than old food and some lockpicks. Her companions probably noticed how her brow furrowed and jaw clenched, while she looted the paladin’s corpse. It’s not that she wanted them to stop having fun while she ransacked the place, but she did feel a little better for receiving help. After entrusting the enchanted greatsword to Karlach, they went to the basement to loot some more. They unfortunately didn't find anything more than traps and some silver cutlery. She had a hunch there must have been some kind of sliding wall or invisible keyhole, but had no idea how to access it. Shadowheart had way keener eyes than the wizard: if she had been there, they would have been able to find the secret room. 

The return to camp was just as frustrating: Wyll jumped right to Karlach's throat and had to be peeled off by Lae'zel. Leeith was at the last rope, but fortunately the barbarian was pretty understanding of the situation and managed to come to an agreement with her pursuer. 

Only then was she able to be seen by the cleric, who very easily closed her wound. The drow blew off some steam, complaining to Shadowheart how bad Gale was and how much more she preferred her around. She cautiously accepted the compliments, then went to tend to the wizard. 

Leeith left camp to find a river, bringing along just some soap and a large linen cloth. A few minutes later she laid in the frigid water of a lake, all sounds muffled by the water in her ears. Her heart beat slowed down and her body went numb from the cold. The sun had started its descending parabole, the sky wasn't pink yet; there was still much time before evening, but she just needed to relax for today. 

And relax she will for once. Something caught her eye, a flash of white and red. With everything going so badly today, she had almost forgotten about Astarion's promise.