#also i killed cazador so fast that the other spawn never came for astarion

[communistfries]

Why did the writer in me reawaken after years just to write smut in my notes app and be unwell about a woman i named after a diagnostic manual

[imagineitdearies]

Hi Imogen,

Long time lurker, first time poster. I wanted to let you know how much I've been enjoying Perfect Slaughter. I think you do such an inspiring justice to with the sheer horror of abuse, comfort of connection, characterization and extension of the source material in your writing. I've never read a fanfic quite like what you have done and you deserve so much kudos for it!!

Since you have mentioned you're a D&D nerd (same!), I'm curious about your answers to 2 questions about mechanics:

1) Have you thought about the tool or material that could be used to create the inevitable back scars 😞 ? I've noticed in your writing how much you have highlighted how flawless the spawn are once they've fully healed. All I can think of is something relating to a silvered weapon or something made out of infernal iron. I also know you probably can't fully answer this without it being spoiler-y.

2) This is more a game question, but I've had a few back and forths with my "forever DM" partner on this. Does Cazador actually die in BG3? For all my experience playing, I have admittedly never fought a vamp lord on table top. But from what I understand, there are few ways to actually kill them (I know of breaking their resting place or trapping their mist form). If Astarion comes in with a knife during a vamp's healing phase, would that kill them for good? I feel like I'm missing something here.

Anyway thank you! Apologies if you already got this ask (I'm new to using Tumblr). I'm looking forward to Ch. 23!

-MafWaff

Hi MafWaff 🥰 Always glad to meet a fellow d&d nerd!

Haha I did get your previous ask and was actually sitting down to tackle my ask inbox after a crazy week (just moved to a different state), so you have impeccable timing! Thank you so so much for your kind words, I'm endlessly ecstatic to hear that the story is being enjoyed. To answer your questions:

Yes I have thought about this! In canon, Astarion says Cazador used 'his needle' to carve the runes. I indeed have my own fancanon as to how exactly Cazador got them to be permanent and it will come up in Perfect Slaughter!

From what I understand, what Astarion does in canon without any other explanation wouldn't, in fact, kill Cazador for good by dnd law 😂 but bg3 definitely plays hard and fast with the rules when it wants to, so we're left to justify why the vampire lord doesn't just mist form back into his coffin again! Breaking/destroying their resting place, trapping their mist form for two hours, or reducing them to 0 HP while they're in sunlight or running water--ie rivers/lakes/ocean, not a bucket, of course--so they can't go into mist form at all are all viable methods for dnd. If you stake them in their resting place, they're instead incapacitated/paralyzed for a millennia until the stake rots entirely away (or some idiot un-stakes them). Others are welcome to chime in if I've missed something!

Sometimes the gaps and discrepancies between dnd lore and bg3 can be a bit frustrating (and spark some tiresome debates online, lol) but these ones have honestly been fun for me to figure out! Sort of like a puzzle I get to shape the missing pieces into 😊

Anyways, I'm excited for you guys to see what I came up with in future chapters!

[nknovakwrites]

Astarion's Past Part Two: And This Time STAY DEAD!

After Hope explained everything to Gale they contacted Shadowheart and Jaheira via sending stone and explained the situation to them as well.

Jaheira, still in Baldur's Gate, responded to help them immediately but Shadowheart needed time to travel to them. Hope spent that time tracking where Cazador was. Since his palace collapsed and had been rebuilt into a shelter, he would need somewhere else to stay in the meantime. He was nowhere in the Lower City but with the help of Gale and a tracking spell they were able to track him to another palace in the Upper City. The palace was supposed to be owned by some noble or other but Hope wouldn't be surprised if that man was dead now, eaten by Cazador before the vampire took his home.

Jaheira and her wild shape were able to sneak into the palace and give them an idea of the layout, so they wouldn't be going in completely blind. Although she did inform Hope, she couldn't find Astarion. Probably in some makeshift kennel if Hope had to hazard a guess.

Once Shadowheart was in Baldur's Gate, it was time to formulate a plan and execute it.

Hope broke into the palace and her three companions entered behind her. They, however, were invisible (thanks to handy invisibility potions from Bonecloak's Apothecary) to keep the element of surprise. 

When Hope ran into the throne room, Cazador was ready for a fight. Just like in the dungeon, he had a skeletal wizard with him who tried to cast eyebite on Hope the minute she passed through the doorway but Gale was fast and cast counterspell, revealing himself. Jaheira revealed herself by wild shaping into a panther and handling the wizard herself and finally, Shadowheart revealed herself by casting daylight in the room. Unfortunately, daylight didn't seem to have any effect on Cazador and that's when Hope noticed on his hand, Astarion's sunwalker ring! That was a surprise but he was still vulnerable to radiant damage and it would still slow his healing and Hope and her companions were still able to work together to kill Cazador. Hope pulled the ring of Cazador's limp hand. She wanted to take the body outside and watch it disintegrate in the sunlight, watch him fade away for good, but she had others to worry about. Jaheira took care of the body, she assured Hope that there would be no body left when she was done.

That left the spawn. 

Hope, Gale, and Shadowheart realized Cazador must have been back for a while before attacking Astarion because he had managed to carve out a large space under the palace to turn into a dungeon to house the spawn. It wouldn't hold 7,000 but it did hold most of those who lived in the underdark coven.

When night fell, the spawn were more than happy to return to the Underdark. They were for the most part uninjured and certainly not the ravenous horde they were the first time Astarion set them free.

Astarion and his brothers and sister were a different story. Gale, Shadowheart, and Hope took them back to Gale's rental home to look them over and get the story from them. They didn't seem to know how Cazador came back but when he spoke he still had complete control over them, it felt like they had never been free at all. (It also made Hope realize she needed to be better about checking in on the Underdark Coven.) The only one not talking was Astarion. He was in the worst shape out of all of them. Hope had found him in a makeshift kennel, in a stone coffin. Hope remembered Astarion telling her about the year in the tomb. She had pushed the lid off to find Astarion unconscious. He was bleeding and burned, Hope was surprised he was still alive- I mean, undead. He was left to rest and recover in one of Gale's bedrooms.

When Astarion awoke Hope brought him a cup of her blood, he usually drank it straight from the source but this was easier given the fact that Astarion looked like he might bolt at any second, he still felt unsafe which was understandable given everything that had transpired within the last few weeks.

"What is it?" He asked, looking down at the red liquid.

"Blood."

He took a careful sip and, liking what he tasted, took a bigger gulp.

"What animal?" He asked.

He should know what Hope's blood tastes like. 

"Not an animal, it's mine," Hope replied. 

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why would you give me your blood?”

Hope grasped for the easiest answer, “you’re hurt and you need it. I want to help you.”

“Right,” Astarion looked at her for the first time since she handed him the cup, “and who are you?”

*So, I put a little bit of my headcanon in here at the end. Astarion not being able to remember anything from 200 years ago never sat right with me since 200 years is well within an elf's normal lifespan. This led to me thinking that Cazador can actually mess with his spawn's memories, though there are no real hints or evidence of this in the game making it a headcanon.

[timeforelfnonsense]

Just a Taste (Updated)

Dafni x Astarion 

Rating: M

Ao3

I’ve been reworking some of the first fics I wrote for these two now that I have a better idea of their relationship. I’ve updated them on Ao3 but there was some interest in me reposting them here as well!  

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series  

Astarion passed along the far edge of the camp. A groan escaped his chest as he slumped down against the base of a tree. His whole body ached right to the bone. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the throbbing pain behind his eyes to disappear. He knew he needed to feed as soon as possible. He had waited far too long to make up for his little indiscretion with the boar earlier. The whispers of vampire among his traveling companions had, at last, died down. Unfortunately for him, his caution had left him weak and vulnerable. He clutched his head in his hands and took in a deep breath. His body tensed in an instant. The soft forest breeze carried the irresistible scent of prey. His mouth watered and the familiar, white-hot sting of thirst clawed at his throat.

He could see them all tucked into their bedrolls, spread across the little clearing. Sleeping. Helpless. His gut twisted with guilt at the thought but he was desperate and so very tired. Hunting would require far more energy than he had left and the food that slept peacefully around him was far more likely to quench the caustic burn he felt inside.

He would have to be mindful in the selection of his quarry. Lae’zel was the first to be struck from the list. She had a bitter, bordering on metallic scent that he found less than appetizing. And more importantly, he was certain she would slay him without a second thought should things go awry. Shadowhart was out next. Though her bouquet was much more appealing, she had a suspicious nature and seemed likely to be a light sleeper. Wyll had always seemed an alluring prospect - Strong, fast, and righteous. Despite the appeal, he would also be a dangerous choice, being a monster hunter by trade. Gale would due, he supposed, but as the wizard tossed in his sleep the delicate shimmer of a magical barrier caught his eye. That left him with one, final option.  

Dafni slept in a heap of pelts beneath the cover of an old oak tree a few paces away from the others. Wildflowers bloomed in the soil around her as if the earth was reacting to her very presence. His gluttonous gaze lingered on the pretty cleric. He watched her chest rise and fall slow and even. He’d never known her to indulge in sleep, preferring to take her rest by way of trance. She must have been truly exhausted. With a silent step forward, Astarion took in another deep breath. She was floral, like lilac and primrose with just a touch of citrus. His pupils dilated as every fiber of his being shouted at him - Desperate for just a taste. It was a risk to be sure, feeding on a woman of divine persuasion, but of the options available to him she seemed the most delectable and least deadly.

“How cliche,” He thought, “a creature of the night- Driven by sanguine desire to drink from the lovely maiden asleep in her bed of flowers.” He dipped to his knees and with a delicate hand brushed her hair from her neck. He steeled himself, preparing to strike. Leaning in close just as her eyes shot open. “...Shit”

It was the cool tickle of breath on the back of her neck and the feeling of a light hand on her waist that pulled her away from her dreams. When she first saw him standing over her, ruby-red eyes wide, white hair tousled and untamed, she had assumed something must have happened during his watch. However, the guilt and shame that twisted across his handsome face quickly did away with such assumptions.

“What are you doing!” She hissed.

“No, no- It’s not what it looks like I swear!” His words were rushed as if they could not leave his mouth fast enough.

Dafi sat up in her bedroll, her eyes fixed on Astarion’s pleading expression, his hands outstretched in surrender. He reminded her of a wild animal backed into a corner facing down what was to be their demise. His bravado was all but gone and in the place of the cocky rouge she had come to know was a frightened young man. His eyes fixed themselves on the holy symbol that hung from a silver chain around her neck. At that moment the pieces fell together: the boar, his unique appearance, his eagerness to keep watch at night.  There, in the dim glow of the fire, she saw him for what he was...

Vampire.

“Were you trying to kill me?”

“No! I wasn’t going to hurt you!” He promised, “I just needed - well…”

“You needed blood.” Dafni tried to keep her tone firm and fearless but her words shook none the less.

“It’s not what you think!” He pleaded, “I’m not some monster. I feed on animals! Boars, deer, kobolds - whatever I can get. I’m just too slow right now. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

The last word was dripping in melancholy. His head hung low and his shoulders sagged. He had proven himself to be proud, even bordering on snobbish - never asking for help and turning his nose up when it was offered. His suffering must be great if he had been willing to admit his weakness and need.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She whispered. Against her better judgment, she reached out to him, placing a hand on his pale cheek.

“At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely you’d ram a stake through my ribs. I thought I could keep it to myself but tonight I felt so awful…” Astarion slumped into his hands unable to meet her eyes, “And… I wanted you to trust me. No. I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me.”

His logic was far more rational than her own. She was a cleric, sworn to the preservation of life. She should have set him alight with divine magic the moment she realized what he was. But, when she looked at Astarion it wasn’t a monster that looked back at her. She saw her friend. The man who called her Daffodil with testing endearment. Who always watched her back in a fight. Who’d come ever so close to kissing her not that long ago. Vampire, he might be but Astarion was no monster. Her heart ached to think of the fate he had been doomed to. He was an elf, never to return to Avandor. Was it not her very reason for existing to care for all of Corellon’s children? Why should Astarion, whom she had come to care for, be any different than the rest of their kin?

“I do.” She smiled, her thumb stroking his cheek, “I Trust you, Astarion. If you say it wasn’t your intention to harm me then that is the truth.”

How long has it been since he had felt a hand so gentle with such kind intention? She held his face so tenderly he thought he might melt. He had spurned her kindness on countless occasions. Thinking it had been a sign of weakness. Now, on the receiving end of her light and he felt a fool for having ever encouraged her to tamp down on her compassion. He leaned into her hand, savoring the warmth of her touch.

“Thank you.” He purred against her ear, “Do you think you could trust me just a little further? I only need a taste. I swear.”

He could hear the steady thump of her heart pick up. The sight of blood pumping through her veins was near irresistible. Her cheeks went flush and the intoxicating smell of her blood threatened to send him into a frenzy. It was no small effort to keep his vampiric instincts in check. He couldn’t remember wanting the blood of any creature half as badly as he found himself wanting her. But, no matter how badly he craved her he refused to betray the trust she’d given him- To prove himself the beast he swore not to be.

“Fine” She spoke in a little voice, “But not a drop more than you need.”

“Of course.” He promised, “Not one drop more.” Delicately, he guided her back so her head came to rest in his lap. He brought one hand to rest on the swell of her full hip and while the other cradled the base of her skull. His fingertips traced the hollow of her neck with almost loving reverence. “I will try to be as gentle as I can manage. It might hurt a bit- a sharp, cold feeling but the pain should fade fairly quickly if memory serves.”

She nodded her understanding, glancing up doe-eyed through her thick lashes. With that, he leaned in pressing a kiss over her pulse before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh. If her scent had been captivating her taste could only be described as transcendent, sweet, and perfect. Yet it was more than the flavor that had him completely delirious. It was the irresistible happiness that began to bloom in his chest as his heart fell in rhythm with her’s. She was a lush and colorful field, the feeling of the sun on his cheeks for the first time in 200 years - Spring incarnate and he was ravenous for more.

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures.

Cazador’s words rang loudly in his ears as the red ambrosian liquid gushed into his mouth. All those years luring food for his old master and he’d been forbidden anything but putrid rats. He’d assumed it was meant to demoralize his spawn. To remind them where they stood in the pecking order. Now he saw the truth of it. With every swallow, he felt better than he could ever recall feeling.

His grasp grew tighter on her hip drawing her into himself no longer satisfied with gentleness and charm. What had happened to the restraint he’d shown just the other day when he’d nearly stopped himself from kissing at the river? Hunger began to blend with desire. He wanted her, in both blood and body. A shaky gasp slipped from her lovely lips. She twisted in his lap, lancing her hand through his hair, tugging him closer. An invitation to drink deeper and indulge the amorous feelings her resplendent curves and needy sounds were insisting.

“Astarion, I’m starting to feel faint.” Her voice was shaky but it was enough.

“Of course.” He gasped. He removed himself with haste, realizing his hold on her body. Relief washed over her and Dafni allowed herself to crumple against him. Above her, Astarion was still struggling to catch his breath. “I was just swept up in the moment. But it worked. I feel good. Strong. Happy!”

He nuzzled at her neck, his nose running along the soft edge of her jaw. A small squeak passed her lips at the feeling of his tongue running over the aching wound. Prompting a satisfied purr from Astarion. He was warmer to the touch now and a faint rosy hue colored his cheeks. His arm once again wrapped across her middle, pulling her into him as if he’d done it hundreds of times before. Astarion was hardly the picture tender regard but his arms were strong and his slow heartbeat thrummed in time with her own.

“I’m glad” She yawned, “You deserve to feel good.”

He stroked absentmindedly through her hair as she began to nod off. Her sweet words overwhelmed him. Gods he wanted to kiss every inch of the strange, wonderful woman curled up in his lap, to taste him in other ways. He hadn’t expected the act of feeding to be so… intimate. He couldn’t be sure if it was always this way or if the elation he felt was a side effect of her being an eladrin. Either way, the temptation to hold her all night was undeniably present. A disheartening pang of thirst still lingered in his throat however and she was far too weak for him to take anymore. His other desires would simply have to wait.

“I hate to disturb you, darling, but you’ll have to excuse me.”

“You are not excused.”  Dafni huffed, snuggling closer in protest.

He tried to suppress the laugh but it was no use. She stuck out her lower lip in his favorite pout as he untangled himself from her. She reached up for him, wrapping her hand tightly around his wrist as he turned to leave.

“Come now.” He teased, “You’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” He bent down placing a kiss on her forehead, “This is a gift you know. I won’t forget. Now, sleep, Daffodil. I’ll be back in the morning.”