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sheloves-toomuch · 25 days

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The Spawn and the Siren

Chapter 5: Down by the River

NSFW 18+, explicit content, mentions of violence

Astarion finally orchestrates his plan with the siren, but Zeno was a complication he didn't see coming. This chapter reveals flashbacks to their early meetings, confessions, and game-related plot spoilers. Flashbacks and inner monologue are written in italics.

As the days passed following their surprise encounter with the devil Raphael, it was clear to the others that something within Zenosyne had changed. She spent more time gazing off into the distance absentmindedly, thinking to herself quietly, often unblinking. Her thoughts were perpetually elsewhere, and she seemed always unbound to the present moment. Her face seemed pained now and again as she seemed to sift through her thoughts one by one, as though she were being presented with uncomfortable realizations each time she would retreat into her own mind.

In truth, she was coming to many harrowing realizations by the minute. The company she had kept before she lost her memory spoke volumes to her character. The butler, Sceleritas Vel and his eagerness to please and encourage her bloodthirsty wants- and the sly and scheming Raphael- son of Mephistopheles himself. He was the prince that had haunted her visions within the mirror, and the prince that Ethel had threatened to offer her up to in her magical slumber.

“Copper for your thoughts, Zeno?” Karlach asked finally, trying with careful words to coax Zenosyne out of her silent musings. She poked at the fire where they all sat, encircling the embers that snapped and licked towards the night sky.

Zenosyne inhaled sharply at her own name, and let out a long, deep sigh.

“That devil, Raphael. He was the one Ethel spoke of- the one she said she might get a pretty sum from had she revealed my whereabouts to him… and he seemed very… familiar with me, to say the least when he brought us into his sanctum for a moment there.”

“It’s no question that devils collect souls like trinkets. He clearly has been wanting yours for some time.” Wyll offered up.

“I don’t know if he wants my soul- or if I even have one.” Zenosyne muttered sharply.

“Well, of course you have a soul!” Shadowheart laughed uncomfortably, her eyes darting between Wyll and Zenosyne. Shadowheart’s voice was always sweet to hear- and that put a little tension into Zeno’s mind, although she could never understand why that was. “You may be a rare creature but I don’t see why not.”

Zeno stayed quiet, leaving a heavy silence in the air that held them all captive.

“I killed that bard, didn’t I?” She finally said, and in that moment everyone wished that the silence had remained. An uneasy shift settled across the party. Wyll adjusting his seat by the fire, Lae’zel sitting more upright than before, Astarion’s ears perking up slightly but noticeably. Gale’s brow furrowed at her words, and he was the next to interject into the uneasiness-

“Yes, you did. You’ve slain an innocent in our own camp, but it’s evident that there is something else that’s battling for your soul within your body. I won’t say that I’m altogether comfortable with what happened with Alfira, but it provides some semblance of reassurance to know that you clearly had no intentions of killing her that night.”

Zeno’s mind went wild with all the anxieties of their journey thus far. They were so kind, they were so accepting, so helpful and she hated them for it, in a way. She loved them all and she hated that she had nothing to hate them for. She knew so little about herself, but she did know that she wasn’t good.

“I didn’t just kill her, either. Did I?” Zeno challenged, her chest heaving with warm breath that threatened to bring forth tears. She hadn’t. There was a cloud of evil that covered the camp from that day forward. Alfira’s blood still stained their consciousness. It crept everywhere- visions of her eyeless skull and empty torso seeping into their nightmares. “There’s so much brutality in me. Even in my softness there’s whispers of death.”

“There’s brutality in all of us right now.” Shadowheart said, “We will find out what it is that haunts you.” She encouraged. Did she even believe her own words?

Zeno stood up and rolled her shoulders to ease the tension in her long-hunched body. She let her gaze fall briefly on Astarion- and flashes of memories jumped into her electric mind. The sting of her wounded neck throbbed. She’d been all too generous to help out the vampire who she saw as an understanding equal. Night after night he had made his way over to her tent to quietly drink from her. His small sighs of contentment would leave her quaking whenever he let himself get carried away in his nightly indulgence- but he hadn’t ever gone any further than that. She felt a desire to help him from the moment he had told her he was a monster, like her. Even more so when he had told her he was not afraid of her. She had to show him she was not afraid of him, either.

The confession that he quietly whispered to her the day after he first tasted her blood had left her breathless.

"I've... had this condition for two centuries. But, truth be told... you were my first." He said. His words went from careful and slow to rushed. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking away.

"Come now, do you really think I'd believe that after 200 years?" Zeno had teased, certain that he was telling her yet another beautiful lie to leave her mesmerized by him. She was always afraid he was telling her beautiful lies.

"It's true. In all these years I've only ever fed on beasts and... drinking the blood of a thinking creature was never permitted under Cazador."

He spat the name of his former master, the cruel vampire that had sired him into this world of endless night. Zeno had quietly nodded, afraid that she had offended him. The look on his face said that he did not want to share this, but he kept going. In his mind, he was battling with the pull between speaking his haunted truth and the fear that dragged him down at the thought of letting her in. Nobody, not even the other spawn that Cazador had called his family had heard him speak like this.

“I think I’ll go lay in the river.” She said, her hair still damp from the last time she had retreated past the camp to lie in the rushing blue waters by the Emerald Grove. For some time the ground crunched with leaves and grass beneath her sandals as she listened to the call of the rushing waters on the rocks, urging her forward to the loud river she found refuge in. It’s cold, crashing waves shocked her to the core- it kept her mind sharp.

She heard nothing else, though, for as sharp as she was, she couldn’t hear the rogue that was stalking in the shadows. She threw off her shoes, only to hear Astarion clear his throat to politely make his presence known to her before she went any further.

She turned to see him there, emerging from the trees. His white ruffled linen shirt was slightly open, the peaks and valleys of his unnaturally pale chest glowed in the moonlight that danced off the water in a delicate pattern. It gave off a light blue halo of light around him that seemed to illuminate his pallor all too well. All these thoughts were dancing around in her head as he approached with care.

“Evening, siren.” He said sensually. He waited for her response, expecting more from her than the nod he got in reply. Seeing her by the water reminded him of the old book, The Blushing Mermaid. A trashy novel, if there ever was one. It was a favorite among lonely hearts.

Zeno’s thoughts were always haunted by him. He knew she couldn’t hide her excitement whenever he would sit close by, saying something clever to her in hopes of getting her to respond. Sometimes, he even brushed a thumb over the most sensitive skin of her wrist as he passed by her- once, even, gently reaching out to touch the curve of her bare waist as she fell behind the party in their trek. That touch still ghosted over her skin now.

“If you want to be alone, I can go.” He offered.

“No.” She said, pointedly. “Stay. You can jump in if you want.”

She tossed off her skirt, and the weave of beads that remained covering her body. She let her long hair down from it’s perch atop her head to fall in waves at her waist, the deep green curls blending in effortlessly with her surroundings in the night. She stepped into the river, finally. Goosebumps rose over her flesh as she waded in, either from the icy water at night or from the thought that Astarion was right behind her- and she let her siren form manifest once again.

“Is it safe to follow a siren into the river at her behest?” Astarion teased, his eyes darkening at his shameless flirting. Nevertheless, he kicked off his boots while keeping his eyes locked on hers. The ruffles of his shirt soon brushing over his silver curls as he pulled it swiftly over his head.

“Not quite a behest- more of an offer… and for you, it is safe.” She replied with a small smile, barely perceptible.

Her eyes continued to wander now. It was rare to see him like this- as far as she could tell he wasn’t so vulnerable with the others, despite the occasional flirt at Shadowheart now and again. It echoed in her already troubled mind. She had a feeling that she was the object of his interest in this moment, at least.

He walked slowly, carefully over to the spot where she had entered the water, standing ankle deep for a moment. His icy cold skin found the water to be temperate. Yet, the look on his face betrayed his reservations about coming any further.

“Running water is new for you, I know.” She acknowledged, proving to him that she was ever vigilant to his needs. The sunlight and the rushing waters were all a newly bestowed gift to the ancient vampire, thanks to the power of the tadpoles.

“Trust me?” She reached out with a gentle hand that dripped with the glistening diamonds of water.

“I, ah, wouldn’t mind just…” He leaned up against one of the wet boulders, perching one leg up slightly onto it. “Getting used to it slowly. As I admire you in your natural habitat.”

She let her hand fall with clear disappointment, but let him stand there, nonetheless. She tried to busy herself with swimming back and forth, gently diving down now and again beneath the surface- her back followed by the glimmering curve of her elegant tail. The dark green scales blended seamlessly in with her long hair, and with the lapping waves that kissed her skin. Sometimes she would bring something back up with her, laying them on the boulder that Astarion was propped up against, at his feet- as if worshiping his quiet presence with her. She put a shiny, opalescent oyster shell by his feet, and held it closely to his skin.

“That’s your color, I think.” She said, looking up with big, round eyes that he knew spelled trouble. For anyone else, at least. It was the first time that she allowed herself to fully make her feelings known. He knew, of course, already. It was plain to see she was wrapped tightly around his little finger by now.

“Is it really?” He teased, letting her elaborate some more. Instead, he was left waiting for a moment. If it weren’t for his keen and amplified senses he would never have heard the quickening of her pulse- the pace of her heartbeat now matching the hum of the crickets that sang mating calls into the night. But he did hear it, and in that moment he knew that he had won at this game already. He was finally safe with the siren, and her bloodthirsty vigor would protect him just as he had planned. Even with this security, he found himself thinking more about how he wasn’t the only one she coquettishly teased.

She’s a siren, she lures them in. It’s in her nature, he thought, each time she would playfully splash Gale as she washed clothes in the river or reached out to grab Shadowheart’s wrist and pull her under the waves with a light, airy laugh. He remembered one night they had all been camped out by the waters, and she wrapped her arms around Shadowheart from behind- claiming she was chilly and needed warmth. Shadowheart had laughed, obliging her, and they were playfully floating around for some time. It had been then that week he had decided to speak up himself.

“Shadowheart… Such a dark name for such a beautiful flower.” He had said as they were passing through a blighted, empty village.

“Please try not to look so closely at my neck when you say that, Astarion.” She’d replied flippantly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zenosyne look back, and observe their faces- trying to pick up a clue as to what the nature of their little flirt really entailed.

Zenosyne broke his reminiscence in an instant when she took in a gentle breath, and leaned forward to his ankles. She looked at him with those doe-like eyes again, and slowly closing them, she reached her warm lips to the inside of his ankle- a gentle kiss at first along his freezing skin.

Oh, that’s why her heart’s beating so fast. She’s ready to take the next step, he thought.

She let a few feather light kisses trail along his ankle, then, a small nip at the drops of water that fell back into the river from his skin. She lifted her eyes up again, waiting now for him to say something- anything- to give her an idea what was going on in that breathtakingly beautiful head of his. He remained quiet, just as she had. The only thing she could tell was from the way he stared, a coy smile played at his lips as he looked down at her. She sat up a little, pushing her long hair back behind her, out of the way of her bare chest.

She’s making a show of it too, he noted.

“Another offering at your altar, then?” She said, finally, placing the open-faced shell back at his feet. “Would you grace me a little further, tonight, by joining me in the river?”

He chuckled darkly, not because he was playing along anymore- but because he couldn’t help himself any longer. He knew he was handsome- hells, he knew just how alluring he could be thanks to years of perfecting his approach. It was the fact that her words seemed to be of genuine adoration and not the drunken proclamations of love he was used to hearing each night in the city streets that broke his defenses.

She loved him, he thought.

I love him, she thought.

He finally stepped carefully into the waters- his fear of the current still evident despite his attempts at masking his trepidation. She reached out both arms to grab his shoulders, steadying him for a moment before she helped him lower himself in. He let out a long breath that he didn’t know he had been holding.

“That’s it.” She quietly encouraged, just above a whisper. She let her hands trail just over his chest, both palms resting there for some time as he let the new sensations of the river water wash over him. With time, she let them fall and rise- sliding across his skin suggestively as she watched his eyes dart between hers.

“Are you hungry?” She asked.

His eyes widened for a brief moment.

“Very much so.” He whispered, now letting a low grunt escape his lips. He turned his gaze to the already bruised spot on her neck he had grown accustomed to.

She wrapped her tail around his waist, and the flowery thin ends of her fins popped up beside him in the water. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her warmth. She shivered in the cold water and in his icy touch. Together, they left her trembling.

His feeding on her had always been polite- he never did more than drink from her.

You’re a gods damned fool. You’ve been letting yourself drink from her and now you think you’ll can do this without getting too close? You’re getting too close…

…and with a surprisingly shaky gasp he bit down without hesitation.

You’re getting too close.

He kissed the spot he had bitten, enveloping her in his arms and keeping her quiet. He pulled her in tightly and squeezed her closer as he lapped up her blood. He let the sound of his tongue pierce her ears and his little low sighs of approval sing to her.

You’re getting too close.

He buried his nose into the crook of her neck, and she curled even closer into his tight grasp. Were it anyone else, she would feel so very threatened by his suffocating hold. He kept her from moving a muscle- and she sighed into it.

You’re getting too close.

He quieted the nagging voice in his head by rolling her over onto her back, both of them half submerged in the rushing waters. The slow grind of his hips into hers was hidden under the water- and the way her tail twitched underneath him.

He got his fill and broke his connection with her all at once. He stared down at her eager face- blinking away the drops of water that fell from his silvery locks into her face. She panted, expectantly. He found himself gasping in rhythm with her.

Hells, you’ve really gone and done it now. You’re in too deep. You’ve given too much.

Astarion let his lips crash into hers, finally, the weeks of tension finding respite here and now. He let the metallic taste on his tongue ease into hers, then let it explore with careful precision for the very first time. The siren didn’t seem to know just how to match his passionate kisses. She was at a loss, for once. She melted into him. Her tail melted away, and her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her knees and legs just breaking the surface of the water they laid in. She let him take the lead- her bold advances suddenly disappearing.

Astarion’s mind reeled,

She probably drowns them before she gets this far. You’re a gods damned fool. Dammit.

Berating himself mentally over and over again, he let his hands wander lower to her waist as his lips continued to collide in a gentle dance with hers. His eyes finally locked into her gaze and he asked,

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” She cried out with no hesitation. “Please. Plea-”

He quieted her calls with his kisses, hungrily seeking more of her until he found himself beyond salvation. The voice that held him back all night was finally quiet- acquiescing to defeat. She was so warm beneath him- not that this was new to him- he always noticed just how warm living bodies were when entangled with his… but never did he get the rush of adrenaline he did in that moment when he finally allowed himself to let go and make love to her. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was excited at the idea- tantalized by it even.

As her hips reached upwards to meet his- to accept his love and his passion, she whimpered and gasped. The stars were reflected in her wet eyes- and they grasped at each other wherever they could. Their arms and legs were a tangled mess, and she pulled playfully at his wet hair. Her gentle tugs and cries were the motivation, the guidance he needed to explore her body further.

“Oh, my love- I”

Zenosyne cried out louder now, her inability to contain herself any longer was apparent. It had been difficult, for the very first time, to keep his climax at bay.

“Go on-” He whispered, but his voice trembled.

“Go on, siren.” He tried to speak again, regaining his composure and asserting his calm and sweet dominance. He looked deep into her eyes, trying to keep her focus on him alone. “I have you. I won’t let you g-”

“I- I love you!” She screamed, throwing her head back, crying out in ecstasy. Her hips stuttered, and her thighs shook beneath his tight grip. The night sky blended into an ocean of lights as she closed her eyes, letting herself feel every beautiful sensation that she could find in his hasty ministrations.

Her confession was carefully timed- and she knew it would be a risk. She knew she couldn’t just say it at any moment and get away with it. But she wanted him to hear it- and to know that she meant every word she uttered. No kind word she had said to him went unpunished by his casual flippancy, so she cried out in the only way she knew how- by baring her soul naked in front of him and parting the veil that stood between them. She cried it out again-

“I love you!”

I love you.

Each time she said it he faltered. He became dizzy with want and his chest ached with the realization that washed over him. She loved him. She loved him. He couldn’t say it back- not yet. Not even at the height of his untamed pleasure, when he cried her name into her ears like sweet nothings- he couldn’t say it just yet...

They both fell limp onto the ground, still holding on to one another- still joined together intimately. They lay like that for some time, just letting the waters pass them by. Astarion rested his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat. It was racing, racing, until finally it slowed down to a more steady rhythm. His pointed ear twitched beneath her gentle touches, and he found himself sinking into a trance as she hummed a sweet melody. Her face was towards the stars, tracing the colorful clouds of astral dust that swirled in the endless cosmos above. His eyes closed, he pulled her wrist close to his lips and nestled a few chaste kisses to her sensitive skin.

“You don’t have to say it in return, if you can’t.” She whispered. His kisses stopped a moment- and his eyes opened. He didn’t turn to look up at her, but she felt his lashes flutter against her chest.

“I’d wait forever, you know, if that’s what it took.” she said, still gently stroking the shell of his pale ear atop her chest.

Oh what a fool you are, Zeno. He thought to himself, Run away from me, gods, please! Tell me you can’t do this anymore… Tell me you hate me, even… tell me anything but that.

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sheloves-toomuch · 1 month

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The Spawn and the Siren

Chapter 4: The Devil you don't remember.

Astarion does some self-reflection as he lays out his plans, the siren meets her butler... and the party becomes acquainted with a cunning devil that seems to already know Zenosyne...

This is my first attempt at a multi chapter fanfiction in a very long time.

Some weeks had passed following the events at Ethel’s cottage, and Zenosyne found herself heartbroken at what she had seen of who she was. Still, she longed to learn so much more about herself. The revelations imparted to her left more questions in her mind than they had answered. Who was Raphael? Who was the pale, otherworldly woman she had called sister? Why was her mind burdened with the overwhelming allure of blood and death?

Like so many times before, she found herself in her siren form, laying in the river as it ran over her like a baptism washing away whatever sins of the day that she had committed. Her skin was cold, and the icy waters made her feel alive and grounded when her mind would pull her to dark places. Lazily her tail swayed back and forth as it pulled the water along in its wake. Her arms were crossed out in front of her as she laid on her stomach. Her head rested firmly in her forearms as the little parasite wiggled in her mind with power.

There was still the matter of her bloodlust. She pondered over the guilt that gnawed in her mind over what she had been wont to do over the past few weeks. When her secrets began to unravel before herself and the members of the party, and she realized that silent powers were hidden in her siren form, she used them as a shield against her fears. Unsuspecting goblins and other enemies would find themselves entranced up until the moment she would strike- each time she became more and more creative with her deadly fury, savoring the chase. Her blade tasted blood at every chance she could find. And while the others did what they had to in order to survive, she lay there in the water trying to quiet the loud voice in her head that berated her and demeaned her. She found no comfort in who she was finding herself to be. Neither did the others that she traveled with.

Then, there was still the matter of Astarion to reckon with. Following her near-demise Astarion had carried her back to the camp until she found the strength within her to walk again. The others had seen as much as she had in her dreams as they looked into the hag’s mirror, and their trust in her wavered. Very few sirens still existed, and what few did still live remained in hiding beneath the dark oceans. They remained ever loyal to Umberlee and to themselves alone, finding no allies on the surface. Astarion had teased her at first about it.

“Such a rare catch you are, little fish!” He had said in that melodic, seductive tone of his that pulled at Zenosyne’s mind even in her sleep. “Aren’t we lucky to have found you. Now, you know my secret, and I know your’s!”

He was of course referring to what had been revealed the day that Gandrel had announced he was searching for the vampire spawn Astarion. The way that Zenosyne had, without missing a beat, nodded and played along with the ruse had shocked him. She’d unquestioningly protected his identity- and then protected his life that day. It was the first moment in his life, he recalled, that he felt as though someone other than himself was watching his back. That was the moment he realized he did not want to have to go without that ever again. If the siren was willing to stick her neck out for him, he would play that card for as long as he could. It had been a knee-jerk reaction from years of survival at the hands of Cazador. Yet, the longer he thought about it- the more he felt like her demonstration of care had meant even more to him that he wanted to acknowledge.

I’m not a details person, Astarion thought to himself, …But I can enjoy this, can’t I? I don’t see why I can’t enjoy it. I deserve it, after all. I’m owed something for myself after all these years of misery and hells.

“You seem to be the only one making light of this discovery.” She replied, unable to hold back the quiet sigh that danced on the edge of being a laugh.

“Darling, I don’t care what you are, or where you came from, when you’ve proven to be such a formidable adversary to our foes.” He had remained on the word darling for a moment- he knew that she had taken notice of his suggestive pet names- small hints at his master plan. She was falling hard.

“And what’s more” he went on, “It’s always a pleasure to see a siren ensnare her prey so close- at a distance most mortals could only dream of and live to tell the tale.” One of his pale, dexterous hands reaching up to grasp at the air in front of him- just close enough to her face to keep her eyes busy as she absorbed his words like a sponge.

“Some people would call me a monster.” She said plainly, her eyes betrayed her reticence to accept his praise.

“Some people would call me a monster.” He echoed.

His simple statement left Zenosyne open mouthed- ready for her rebuttal. She found none. He was right. He was, by definition, like her. Monstrous.

“That gives me an unreasonable feeling of...?” She struggled to find the words that might describe the feeling that made her shoulders relax, and her breath release from their tight grip within her lungs. At her genuine shift in demeanor, she thought she saw a hint of something change in his eyes- as if he were faltering. His sure and arrogant smirk cracked for a split second, but whatever she saw- or thought that she saw disappeared just as soon as it had come.

“I feel like…”

“Feeling… understood?” He asked. His voice was a little lower this time. There were less theatrics behind his stance now. His arms fell slightly under an invisible weight. The truth was, he was very good at what he did. He could lead someone on and seduce them into doing whatever he wanted. It took a little poise and tweaks here and there to appease the individual in question, but the game remained largely the same. However, it would work often enough and quickly- so that all of it was over by morning, and he could move on to the next one. There were few facades he had to maintain for this amount of time. He tried desperately not to get to know the people that he…

No, no stop it now. Astarion thought to himself.

“I think so.” She said, even quieter. She reached out to him instinctively, as if to find some kind of comfort. She didn’t expect him to flinch at her advancement- and when she saw it, she let her arms fall quickly, her hands grasping each other in front of her.

“Thank you.” She said quickly, turning away from him. “That means more to me than I can say, truly.”

Her mind snapped back into the present, and the cold water suddenly felt a little warmer. Her face lifted from it’s daydream to meet the eyes of a terrifying, quite ugly creature.

“Your excellence!” it said.

She screamed. It was the small butler she had seen in the dream she had while under the hag’s spell. His tall hat smelled of the hells- like he had just come from the inside of a hot, raging volcano.

“No, no, your unholiness, please! Don’t be alarmed! I bring you gifts!” He bowed low, his voice excited. “A small piece of your most wonderful inheritance.”

“Inheritance? Are you the…”

“Sceleritas Vel, my lady. Your butler, humbly at your service as I have always been, and always will be!”

A red cloak appeared suddenly in his outstretched hands, his face still downturned in reverence at her shocked expression.

“Tell me who I am!” She demanded. She wasted no time in getting to the point. She wanted answers.

“No, no, my lady I’m afraid I cannot do that. That is not for me to reveal, not for me to say!” A hint of nervousness was in his voice now. He feared what she might do.

“But know, my lady, that your actions have not gone unnoticed by your father. He is most pleased with the fearsome initiative you have taken of late!” The excitement in Sceleritas Vel’s voice began to rise up again.

“Initiative? I wouldn’t call it initiative. I’ve been unable to… stop myself.” She said, her brows raising together in concern.

“Because you cannot hide from who you are destined to be- who you have always been destined to become!” He said, his encouragement would have been very motivational, if it were used for the right purpose. As it was- his words were bittersweet to Zenosyne and twisted with evil she could not ignore.

“What CAN you tell me?!” She shouted, grabbing at his jacket collar. She shook him with fury in her eyes and bared her teeth. She felt her gums in her mouth give way a little- and it almost felt like a relief when the long, needle like teeth pushed their way through. Her grimace widened to an unnatural size- what was once a pair of rosy cheeks was now all sharp and curved fangs, overlapping and horrifyingly sharp. Her lips were something in between a wicked smile and a forceful display of rage- and where her nose had been, a scaly nose-like feature flared with sharp breaths.

“I… No! No, My lady please, do not unleash your anger at me! I have and always will live to-”

Startled by her own growls, Zenosyne let go of Sceleritas. With a gasp her face quickly eased back into the one she had come to know up until that point. She had never become a monster like that before. Not insofar as she just had. She had literally changed her form again- into a creature worse than she’d seen in her own twisted nightmares.

She stood up, her tail turning into legs. Slipping her beaded skirt back on with shaking hands she hastily strode in the direction of the campsite. She watched as her companions went about their own business.

Shadowheart was gently and absently petting scratch as she read a book. Gale was reading as well, but much more intently. His eyes scanned old pages that crinkled loudly under his touch. Wyll rested with eyes that slowly blinked away sleep- trying to remain awake at the fireside while Karlach put up her tent.

Just as Zenosyne entered the clearing where the others sat around restlessly, the sound of flames burst from the ground- a place where she’d not ever seen them come from before. She jumped and let out a shriek that caught the attention of the others. Wyll had already drawn a blade from his side- Astarion remaining low in his instinctive prowl. Karlach bolted upright and made no hesitation in picking up her greataxe. Lae’zel was even quicker to assume an offensive stance.

“A devil!” Karlach shouted, knowing right away what was coming.

Yet instead of the flaming, fearsome creature they were all anticipating rising out of the fires and smoke, a tall and proud figure of a man stood before them. His navy doublet pristinely kept and his hair neatly combed to rest with careful control at his shoulders. His expression was one of amusement.

“Well, well, well” He said, very slowly. “…What’s better than the devil you don’t know….?”

Painfully, Zenosyne waited for him to do something. Her heart pounded and she looked to the others, who seemed just as confused as she.

“The devil you do.” He finished.

Before any more could be said, Karlach cut the tension in the air with resolution in her voice- “He’s not some friendly face, despite what he’s making you think” Karlach said, “Don’t trust him. They’re all like that. Devious fuckers.”

“… And what about the devil I can’t quite… remember? Are you another infernal butler?” She asked.

“Hah! Don’t flatter yourself, little mermaid!” He laughed heartily. “Allow me to introduce myself to you once again, sweet Zenosyne.”

The well-kept human looking devil bowed his head and shoulders ever so slightly, as if to show respect but not inferiority.

“Lord Raphael. Son of Mephistopheles.”

“Oh, hells!” Karlach shouted in rage.

“Precisely!” Raphael said with a smile. “But you, Lady Zenosyne, have always had better taste for where you rest than can be afforded out here in the wilds. Allow me to bring us to a more… comfortable place to discuss the matters at hand.”

Just as he had appeared before them, so did they all suddenly appear in a beautifully decorated dining hall. The hall was rounded, columns all around them leading the way in three directions from the large, circular marble dining table that stood prominently in the center of the room. A fire flickered atop an immensely large painting of Raphael himself that was framed in the finest gold money- or, souls- could buy.

“The House of Hope. A most luxurious place in which you formerly loved to spend time.” He said, hands extended to urge Zenosyne to turn around. There was an endless feast of the finest, most beautiful foods she had seen until now.

She chuckled. One thing that she knew about herself- if anything, was that she had an insatiable sweet tooth. Before he could invite her to indulge herself in the exquisite options laid out before them she reached out to one of the little towers that held the small, rich chocolate cakes and popped it in her mouth.

“Don’t restrain yourself on my behalf, please, help yourself.” Raphael teased.

She reached for another, and with her other hand began to sort through the decadent desserts assorted on a silver tray nearby as well.

“We’re in the hells.” Karlach said, a bit of relief in her voice from the eased pain in her chest. Her engine felt a little less hot here.

“I’d know the stench anywhere.” Wyll confirmed, “And the… company.” He sneered. Judgement on his face as he watched Zenosyne dig into the delicious food without hesitation.

“And, ah… how exactly do you know our companion here, if she doesn’t know you?” Astarion spoke up, inserting himself into the conversation.

Raphael turned slowly to the now concerned looking vampire spawn. Zenosyne looked at Astarion out of the corner of her eye as she chewed the overly sweet cake. Astarion’s eyes were wider than she’d seen them before, almost a look of vulnerability. He looked almost childlike when the devil scoffed at him. Then, he recollected himself and sneered back.

“You have a bit of a problem, don’t you, little mermaid?” Raphael asked pointedly, “Yet another resident within your mind. One uninvited guest that won’t leave your brain.”

“You know it?” She asked, her mouth still full of the sticky icing.

He chuckled, “I do. If you… wanted help… you know, you used to come to me for help…” Raphael started.

“Don’t” Karlach interrupted, and Wyll looked at Karlach in silent agreement. His nod said all that he was thinking. There was no trust for this devil among her companions.

Raphael looked at Zenosyne, the dark green locs that fell in soft waves down to her waist swayed with her alluring siren’s magic. To be certain, Raphael mused, she would not have been some extraordinary beauty if she were just another woman. What made her beautiful was a combination of her magic, her easy and soft voice, and the way she knew just how to look into one’s eyes as if the world started and stopped in their gaze. It was enough to make mortals feel something between being needed and wanted. This was the draw of a siren.

Raphael was lost for a moment, thinking about how she had looked at him with those eyes not so long ago in the soft glow of the caverns of the hells. She had come to him, using every charm she had to convince him to help her to escape the temple of Bhaal she called her prison. He heard her pleading voice in his mind again, her small, soft hands resting on his chest as she pleaded. She rested her head there, nestling into him.

“I cannot stay here, with him. I need to go up there. I need to see Faerun for myself.” She cried gently into Raphael’s arms, salty tears falling from her black lashes. “My father would have me live and die down here. What if I don’t want it?” She went on.

“You poor, sweet thing.” He had said, finally pulling her from his chest. “My precious little siren. I would deny you nothing in this world.”

Raphael blinked away the memory.

“I… don’t know If I am willing to take a deal with a devil.” Zenosyne said.

It was a far cry from the pleading girl he once knew. She had no idea.

“I will be here, Zenosyne. Just as I always have been. And when you realize you need me, you will return.” He said.

And suddenly, they were back in their camp.

“My cake!” She cried out, her hands now empty. “Well, shit.”

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