#Conversations with a vampire

[roguishcat]

Conversations with a vampire - part 7/10

Story summary: A story told through a series of conversations between Astarion and child Tav, tracing the slow and steady progress of trust and friendship.

Chapter summary: Having brought Tav home, Astarion has a conversation with a member of her family.

Tav surprises Astarion by coming up with an unusual way to keep her promise.

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated this story, I've been trying to work on my writing. Hope you like this chapter! ❤️

“My, my... What mischief did she get up to tonight?” Mamzell Amira looked at him carrying Tav with thinly veiled interest. The woman was dripping in jewels, fine fabric whispering tantalisingly against skin as she lifted her hand to grasp Tav’s chin. Turning the girl’s head sideways, she appraised her appearance before letting go with an inaudible sigh.

“Thank you for bringing her back. You may enter,” she said pointedly, giving him a long look.

Their eyes locked and Astarion scowled.

“Oh, don’t pretend to be so sensitive that you feel offended at being given orders.” She raised an eyebrow and cocked a hip, shifting her stance gracefully.  “Come. We have some things to discuss.”

Astarion did not want to follow the woman, especially when her words sounded more like a command than a request. He has had enough of that in the past two hundred years, being compelled to do Cazador’s bidding. Instead, Astarion told himself that he chose to follow the woman through a concealed entrance that was clearly not meant for the clientele.

They walked down a narrow, winding corridor. Wood creaked underneath their boots, and unlike the areas where clients were entertained, there was no plush carpet to swallow up the sound of their steps. They turned once, then once more. There were no guests, just servants and staff in various states of undress that hurried past quickly. Perfume and incense mixed with the scent of sweat. Giggles, sighs, and groans revibrated in near unison, creating an atmosphere where inhibition was replaced with uninhibited expression of debauchery. Anything for coin. Every fantasy was possible within these rooms, if one could afford it.

Amira stopped in front of a door, unlocking it swiftly and beckoning for Astarion to follow before closing the door behind him. He felt power and saw the door glow. Arcane lock. No way out unless she permitted it.

The elf gave the room a cursory glance. It was pleasantly decorated and seemed like a personal space, where one would relax rather than receive company. One could even call it cosy.

Astarion was just about to set Tav down gently on the plush sofa when a servant appeared and plucked Tav out of his arms as if she weighed nothing, whisking her away. Magic hummed and the servant was gone.

“Sit. Let me have a look at you.” Amira lowered herself to a half recline on a chaise longue, motioning for him to sit in the chair across from her.

She appraised him unabashedly in a way a butcher would look at a prized turkey and clicked her tongue.

“You are a looker. It’s no wonder that she follows you around like a little lovesick pup. She never spoke of you, of course. She never tells anyone anything. But I have my sources,” she said casually, pouring herself some wine into a beautifully crafted gold goblet. She did not offer him any.

“We have been watching you, vampire. Oh, yes. I know what you are.” Mamzell Amira did not seem to be fazed by his scowl and the hard, hostile look shot in her direction. “And if you were any less careful than you have been, you would have been dead in a ditch somewhere,” she took a sip and hummed, apparently pleased with the taste.

“Is it a threat?” Astarion bristled, his hackles raised.

“A threat? Oh, no, my dear, dear frightened boy,” she said with mock concern, her fingers casually dancing over the rim of the goblet. “We all have to watch ourselves, really. This one comes from a very prominent family. An illegitimate child, of course. But potentially an important chess piece. And with no official heir still and Tav turning sixteen soon, her worth just keeps going up!”

Mamzell Amira took another sip of her wine, letting the silence stretch. It was surprisingly quiet in her quarters, considering all the activity that was going on at Sharess’. There was most definitely an enchantment of some sort. He supposed a woman as rich as her could afford the services of a good mage.

“Why hide her in a brothel, of all places?” Astarion was the first to break the silence. “Why not send her somewhere in the countryside? Somewhere far away from the vultures?”

Amira scoffed, as if she had never heard something so ridiculous.

“Oh? And have her turn out a sweet, unassuming country bumpkin? How short-sighted would that be! If she is to run with the wolves, she must know how to show her teeth. Her killing that merchant came as a surprise; I would never have guessed that she had it in her,” she said, sounding proud rather than concerned.

“Besides,” she went on, looking away from him with an unreadable expression, “her father was one of the favourites at Sharess’. Shame about what happened to him, really. Such potential simply wasted. But these things happen when one is careless and gets mixed up with powerful people.”

So, a child of a prostitute and a noble. It wasn’t unheard of, although they had plenty of potions and spells to make sure there were no accidents. This meant that Tav’s mother wanted to have a child enough for her to choose to conceive. The fact that her father was now dead, he presumed, possibly meant that the decision was not well met. Either her mother was foolish and naïve, or wanted to get something out of it. Either way, lovers were disposable. Children could serve a greater purpose down the line. Therefore, there was a very strong possibility that Tav’s family had her father killed. Possibly an accident, a carefully orchestrated charade of an investigation, and then nothing.

“There is not much that the child is fit for, unfortunately. Absolutely talentless. Quite useless. The head of the family was most disappointed by her daughter. Yet, this one may have her uses still. Or just turn out to be the goose that lays the golden eggs,” she said nonchalantly, as if she were discussing inconsequential nothings rather than a child broken by the power games that the patriar families of Baldur’s Gate were playing.

Mamzell lifted herself up higher on the chaise longue, crossing her long, lean legs as she poured herself more wine and popped a grape into her mouth.

“She is still a child,” Astarion spat, incensed at her words about Tav. Was there really no limit to how vile the world could be? “What kind of family allows one of their own to get hurt in such a way? Are they prepared for the scars that this would leave?”

“Life lessons always leave scars. Life is pain. Life is loss. I have no reason to stop her from making mistakes, not when they burn so profoundly, so horribly.” Her smile turned wicked, making a chill run down his spine.

“You are not Mamzell Amira, are you?” He flinched as she barked a laugh.

“Oh, so the spawn can think! Bravo! Yes, the real Mamzell is asleep. She is useful but quite simple. Though that is true of most, of course,” she gave a longsuffering sigh. “Don’t expect me to snap my fingers and show my true form. To reveal myself to the likes of you, to what end?”

She seemed to be finished with the conversation, rising gracefully and walking towards the door.

“Consider this conversation as me sizing you up and finding you lacking. Then again, my disappointment of a granddaughter could not have found herself a more fitting friend. You may leave, spawn.”

“I’m assuming you are going to tell me to stop conversing with Tav, aren’t you?”

“Whatever for? As I said, life lessons always leave scars. The ones that she will get from choosing you for a friend are going to be beautiful, I’m certain.”

Astarion rose stiffly, ruby eyes trained on the woman in front of him. He was not an expert when it came to family relations, yet he was sure that perhaps Tav was better off having no family at all rather than being under the tutelage of this monster who masqueraded as a woman. Tav had a heart. This villain certainly did not.

“Tav. Such a strange name. I wonder why she picked it?” She said more to herself than to Astarion. In any case, the woman seemed to be quite finished with him.

“Grab that man on your way out, won’t you? You have to deliver someone to that Cazador. And seeing as you are still useful, I have no reason for wanting you to be locked up. Off you go,” she dismissed Astarion with a wave, facing away from him as she looked out of the window. Leaving one’s back unprotected in this way whilst in close quarters with a vampire would be considered foolish or borderline suicidal, if it wasn’t for the fact that they both knew that he wouldn’t be able to take a step in her direction without being crushed. There was so much magic in the room that it made his fangs itch and his insides twist. He was no threat to this creature, who was apparently related to Tav.

And so Astarion hoisted whatever soul was unfortunate enough to be captured on this night up on his shoulder and left without another word. After all, what else was there to be said?

Astarion did not see Tav for several months after that. Not that he ever sought her out specifically in the past, but he did find himself glancing in the direction of the brothel as he passed by, looking up at the roofs of the houses that hugged the streets of Rivington in case he would see her perched somewhere on an upper floor.

Astarion rarely noticed change; timeless creatures stuck trudging through the years rarely did. Yet even he soon noticed that the days were growing shorter, the first whispers of autumn filling the air. As the city was shrouded in red, gold, and orange, Astarion and his siblings haunted its streets, plucking victims like overripe fruit. Still, there was no sign of the child that used to follow him around. Astarion was not sure how to feel about it.

The earthy smells of autumn soon gave way to the first chills of winter, its cold breath making streets clear of anyone idling the hours away. Clutching their collars closed, Baldurians hurried down slippery streets to seek shelter in taverns, where Astarion and the other spawn waited for them with warm wine and heated promises.

And just like many times before, it was Tav that found him, surprisingly by Elfsong, so far from where she was previously able to go. Astarion quirked an eyebrow as he walked out of the tavern to see her leaning against the wall. For whatever reason, the enchanted band round Tav's ankle no longer shackled her to the streets of Rivington.

“Hi,” Tav said timidly, running her fingers through her blonde hair. “I- I am sorry about what happened when I saw you last. It’s quite embarrassing, really.” She gave a high-pitched, nervous laugh, shifting from foot to foot, eyes darting to look at anything but his face.

It was strange that most of all she was worried what he would think.

Tav was dressed in layers of black with shimmering red and gold hexagon patterns. The fur-trimmed collar was high, buttoned up to the very top, and the clothes would be almost shapeless if not for the cleverly hidden buttons and ties that held the structure in place. Cloth rustled softly against cloth as she moved. Unlike the clothes that she wore before, this outfit made her look older. Or perhaps that was not it. Perhaps there were some other imperceptible changes that one could not immediately put a finger on.

“And how are you feeling?” Astarion asked, walking away but not so fast that she couldn’t follow.

Tav shrugged and scrunched her nose, as if it hadn’t occurred to her to analyse how she felt until he asked.

“I think I’m okay. I don’t know. They brought a healer, and I guess I feel better. I can still remember what happened vividly, but it feels like it happened to someone else. Weird, right?”

“At least I can pick my own clothes out now. Apparently, you have to literally kill someone round here to get someone to respect you,” she joked weakly.

“Anyway," she cleared her throat, "I wanted to thank you. Thank you for looking after me then, I mean.”

“Well,” he huffed, “your debts just keep stacking up. I suppose you would have no choice but to follow me around long enough to repay them.”

“It would seem so.” Tav smiled a little. It was a weak attempt, but it was better than blank looks or tears. Astarion was pleased that she was holding it together much better than he thought she would.

“Also, I found this in my bag.”

Tav stuck her hand into her brocade bag, once again making Astarion wonder what sort of enchantment would make for such a useful accessory and where one would learn it. Rummaging about, she produced a handkerchief. It was a little crumpled, squashed, and full of untidy creases and folds. Tav straightened it with utmost care, revealing the all-too-familiar embroidery.

“I’ve never seen it before in my life,” Astarion stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

She didn’t bother to pretend to believe him.

“I never get Midwinter presents. Or any presents for that matter. Not even once.”

“I mean,” she sighed and pushed her hair out of her eyes, “I get things for me to use delivered, and the tailor now comes to Sharess’ for me to choose my own clothes. And I get plenty of money to spend, but I- I never actually-” she cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “I just wanted you to know that this means a lot. It’s beautiful.” She gulped when she found that her fingers were shaking and squeezed the handkerchief to her chest.

Astarion found that he was quite unprepared for such genuine gratitude. It wasn’t that special, not compared to the extravagant ensembles and jewellery she wore. He simply had a bit of time on his hands and needed a distraction. So, he embroidered her name and a pretty, delicate butterfly perched on a flower using some red thread.

The handkerchief was dreadfully plain, but Tav looked at it with such open adoration that he felt his shoulders relax a touch.

“I love red. It’s my favourite colour.”

“Well, that is simply a coincidence.” Astarion turned away with a huff. “I had no intention of choosing red, just something I had rattling about in my drawer.” Children were ridiculous creatures. Showing their emotions so freely. Someone really ought to teach Tav not to wear her heart on her sleeve like that.

“Still, I love it. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Well, when one’s standards are so low, it is not difficult to surpass expectations,” he shot over his shoulder.

“By the way, don’t think I’ve forgotten our deal. In fact, as you stopped accepting the potions, I’ve got something else that’s even better.”

She took a scroll out of her bag.

Circling him, Tav grasped his hand tightly. She curled her pinky finger around his, stated that it was perfectly safe, and then proceeded to mutter something he couldn’t make out. The scroll glowed warmly and disappeared, specks of power settling over their hands and then seeping under skin.

“What in the hells was that?” Astarion slapped her hand away with a hiss and took a step back. It didn’t hurt in the least, but he did not know what Tav’s definition of ‘perfectly safe’ was.

“A promise spell,” Tav said breezily, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Beg pardon?” he questioned incredulously. Because surely she did not just make him a ‘pinky promise’ out of all things! How very juvenile and how very Tav.

“I promised to set you free and get rid of Cazador, but words just ring a little hollow. And the spell creates a magic bond between the caster and another willing creature-"

“Well now, I don’t recall being asked!” Astarion all but hissed. “Surely you could have thought this through for five minutes! Or at least have given me a warning!”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she scrunched her nose and frowned, as if the thought hadn’t really occurred to her.

“Well, what’s done is done, I suppose,” Astarion gave a longsuffering sigh at her visibly chastened look and commended himself on having the patience of a saint. “Besides, if I am to bear your company, I might as well know that it is all for a worthy cause.”

Tav’s mouth quirked into a smile. Seeing as Astarion didn’t look angry anymore, it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little.

“By the way, look what I can do now.”

She waved her hand, and all lights in the streets wavered, the colour cooling and turning purple, bathing the street in a pretty, if eerie, glow.

“How’s that for a fun party trick?” Tav boasted, clearly very pleased with herself.

“Cute,” he scoffed. “But hardly useful.”

He had to admit, for a child that seemed to take pride in the fact that she slept through most of her spellcasting lessons, she seemed to have performed the trick easily enough.

“I can do all sorts of things now. Not sure why, but doing magic has become much easier since- since that merchant died,” she finished weakly and swallowed.

Astarion supposed this was the part when he was meant to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and impart some words of wisdom. Except he was not the type to do either, so his silence would have to do. Luckily, Tav seemed to snap back to reality quickly enough.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you! I got Ebony back!”

One had to admire how easily Tav bounced between emotions. Although keeping up with her changing moods would be enough to give one a headache.

“Dare I ask who is Ebony?” He drawled with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched some drunks stumble past them. He ought to follow the two humans; they seemed the type that could be coaxed to come with him with nothing but promises of free wine and a straw mattress to sleep on. Yet, he stayed to listen to childish prattle.

“Ebony is my dog. Used to ride her around when I was about five.”

“And why would I be interested in some mangy, flea-bitten animal?” Astarion let out with a smirk still on his lips.

“Hey! Ebony is a beauty! For your sake, I will tell her that you were joking when you called her that.”

Ah, there she was. No trace of sadness in her blue eyes. A useless victory that warmed his undead heart.

“And where is that dog of yours?”

“Oh, somewhere about. She comes and goes as she pleases, unless I actually call her. She likes her independence.”

Just wonderful. A potentially mad child followed about by an apparently invisible dog. He sure knew how to pick his acquaintances.  

“Whatever is happening to me, I think it is a good change. I can feel myself growing stronger. So just wait a little longer, Astarion. We will be free.”

She blended into the shadows, making him blink in confusion as it became hard to focus on her. It was as if she became one with darkness, making him once again wonder. Wonder if by some unimaginable stroke of luck he actually managed to find himself a half-useful ally.

The pale elf looked down at his hand, noting that if he focused on his fingers, he could see the faint glow around the smallest digit.

“A promise spell,” he mumbled to himself softly.

He hadn’t heard of anything like it. Which made him wonder, what exactly was this mystical pact that he found himself a part of? And what set of circumstances could possibly lead to this promise being fulfilled?

💖 Tag list 💖:

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@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

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@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

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[lioncourtz]

SAG-AFTRA Foundation Conversations x

[framblebee]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 1x1 In Throes of Increasing Wonder

—However misshapen they may be, your brother has no shame in sharing [his thoughts]. —You sayin' I got shame? —The lie you told about leaving the opera house early.

[the-crooked-library]

my absolute favourite devil's minion dynamic, ft: my last night's text conversation with my husband

[sydneighsays]

Can I rest now? 😭

[clip from: TMA ep 111 Family business]

This is probably going to flop 🧍🏻‍♀️🫶🤭😙🫴❤️

[VD: A grayscale Magnus Archives animatic of Jon and Gerry talking in episode 111 of The Magnus Archives. Gerry, a ghostly goth, and Jon, a thin brown man in a graphic T-shirt, sit together at a table. Gerry says scornfully, "Playing politics with things they didn’t understand. Reckoned her tradition was less the academic and more the, uh…" Jon offers dryly, "V-Village witch?"

Gerry laughs, pleased, and asks, "You sure you don’t know her?" He sighs, sobers, and says, "Yeah. But deep down what she wanted wasn’t all that different from the ivory tower idiots she hated. Y’know, I think, secretly, she dreamed of starting a little mystic dynasty of her own." He grimaces. "With me."

Jon says a little eagerly, "Like the, the Lukases? Or the Fairchilds?" Gerry corrects, "Well, Fairchild’s just a name, they’re not really family." Then he does a finger gun and says, "The Lukases, though, yeah."

He turns away, pensive and frowning, and says, "Thing is, it’s harder than it looks. What’s out there… doesn’t care about blood." Jon, grinning a little, says, "Well, I-I mean, except for the vampires…" Gerry scowls, "Yeah, obviously except for the vampires." Jon looks abashed, and Gerry looks down sorrowfully to say, "But they care about your choices, your fears, not your parents." End VD]

[ID: A still of the scene where Gerry scowls and says "Yeah, obviously except for the vampires" to an embarrassed Jon. End ID]

Described by princess-of-purple-prose

[lizardkingeliot]

They came from apes. We came from them. We should be better than they are.

[telemachea]

the implications of the show possibly making armand muslim are devastating. marius renames arun 'amadeo' meaning 'lover or beloved of god' which was ALREADY gross in the books since it places him as this godlike figure armand had to worship. and then later on, with the cult in rome and santino, he was forced into worshipping satan which caused a whole crisis for him even when book armand was christian. but if show armand is muslim everything gets a whole lot worse. in islam the biggest most unforgivable sin (if you don't repent) is shirk, or idol worship. by fashioning himself as armand's god, marius not only removed armand's cultural identity from him, he has tainted his faith which is arguably one of the only things armand could've held onto. marius essentially damns armand in one of the most irreversible ways possible by grooming him the way he did with religion as a weapon. and it gets even worse with the cult since armand is not only forced to commit shirk but to reject allah, one of the last ties he has to his cultural identity, completely. armand therefore becomes a metaphor and an example of what colonialism inflicts upon the colonised

[thatsbelievable]

[valkugo]

Daniel Molloy + first impressions

[elinordash]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE 2x03 ・ 2x04

Even now, I'm still the only one you trust.

[alliskit]

I love good dnd lore thrown into fics!!! I know some but it not being completely tied to the game is lovely. I love a good mystery with history!!! Looking forward to reading chapter 8!

I just binged Conversations With A Vampire and I gotta ask

1. When is chapter 8?!???

2. Is Tav actually Durge???

3. Is grandma Helena (Orins mommy) before she’s killed by Orin?????????

I’m chewing at my enclosure and really want to read the epic scene when he’s standing at the hill after the crash waiting for ‘help’ and SHE SHOWS UP (and she forgot him because of the lobotomy 😭😭😭😭)

Hehe, I'm so happy you are excited for the next chapter! 😊 I'm hoping that I will get it done by next Friday. I wrote it a while ago and hated it. But then I realised that the chapter itself was fine, it just needs to be chapter 9. So, started writing chapter 8 that fits the fic better in terms of pace. Hope you like it once it's done! 💖

2. No, she's not. You are not the first person to think that though! And I see certain ways that Tav is Durge-coded. When I first started writing this fic, I did research into dnd lore and such, so Tav’s background is more dnd than Bg3. But I think chapter 8 will be when everyone will know exactly what Tav is and chapter 9 will have it being stated.

Tav assumes that everything that she goes through is 'normal'. And others realise that something is up but can't put their finger on it. Astarion can be rather uncanny himself and he didn’t really pay enough attention until recently to notice any oddities.

3. There are many power-hungry families in Baldur's Gate, especially patriar families engaged in a lifelong game of one-upmanship. Tav’s grandmother is no better than Helena, in a way. She knows exactly what she is doing and is very particular about how she wants Tav to turn out.

Tav has all the money in the world because money shouldn't motivate her.

She shouldn't see any value in companionship or relationships because she sees that affection is always a transaction. (Tav offers potions and trinkets to Astarion because she genuinely does not think anyone would want to spend time with her just because they would want to.)

She should be careless and dismissive because there are never any real consequences to her actions. Cruelty gets rewarded. She literally gets away with murder. Yet she is never directly protected or reassured. And of course she should always see herself as inadequate and constantly try to 'better herself' to the point of knowing that she could never be good enough.

BUT! Tav found Astarion. And what a magnificent silver-curled wrench to be thrown in the works! Because for all her big talk, Tav's grandmother doesn’t actually know what to make of this odd friendship with a vampire. It could be yet another disappointment in Tav’s life. It could be a pet project that takes up too much of her time and attention. Or this friendship could be something that allows Tav to stay herself in spite of everything.

As Tav puts it - "You've given me a purpose. And having that is something worth living for, rather than just existing." (Chapter 8)

You are right about the crash though. This fic is pre-game and it will end with them meeting at the beach. This was the second scene I wrote for this story and it was always going to end this way. Which is why there will be Part 2 😊

Thank you so much for reading, for caring about the story and for giving me the chance to talk about Tav! 💖💖

[fang3d4]

just two characters who are queer af, canonically used to write poetry about their unrequited crushes, became as powerful as possible to compensate for their past ‘weakness,’ and loneliness, and who’s names start with ‘Will.’

[tryingtoforgetapples]

Buffy is such a relatable character because I too would sit on spike at any given opportunity

[littlegirlinvisible]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022 —) LOUIS: Well, at least we can agree it was a disingenuous act. You walked into Madeleine's with your mind made up! Claudia's opinion. 

[lioncourtz]

SAM REID attends SAG-AFTRA Foundation Conversations on April 10, 2025 in New York City

[scarletdreamers]

It's so hilarious to me how in queer media that actually accurately represents queer people (adults) there's always some kind of murder or other unforgivable mistakes involved??? Like, yeah that's my favourite genre, but why is queer cinema always some kind of psychological thriller/horror, especially the old stuff. Give us a minute to BREATHE please. Someone always DIES. I can name so many examples on this I'm actually going to write a paper on it asap, because I just think it's both so funny and interesting but also disturbing.