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thunderwavesolveseverything · 4 months

Text

Sanguine Hunger

[Astarion x Named Tav]

The hair on the back of her neck stood. She wasn’t alone. Her hand grazed against something cold but familiar. It felt like an arm or a leg. She was too unnerved to discern whether, but she knew someone was kneeling beside her as she appeared to be asleep.

Vampire.

She froze. There was no way a vampire could’ve snuck into their camp without someone noticing. Astarion had offered to keep watch.

Oh, no.

The vampire got to him.

And she was next.

*high-pitched Mariah Carey voice* IT'S TIME!!!!!

Phayelynn's bite scene is finally here and can I say, I loved writing this chapter so much!!!!! This is also where it starts to diverge a bit out of canon 😁 I know I just posted, but I've never really had a schedule for posting, and really wanted to post this chapter so here it here. ❤

(word count: 3,585 )

Read on AO3 or below :)

Masterlist for Phayelynn's adventures here

Sanguine Hunger

Phayelynn couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard she tried.

The journey to Ethel’s had been taking longer than any of them had expected. After a short rest, they started their trek back to the edge of the woods, only making one more stop to help the deep gnome, Barcus, who’d been tied and reeling on a windmill blade by a crowd of goblins.

As the day ended, with the sun setting, they decided to make camp before continuing to Auntie Ethel’s teahouse.

Phayelynn strained to keep her eyes closed, rolling onto her back for the umpteenth time since sinking into her bedroll. Her thoughts couldn’t quiet, moments from the day’s action flashing over and over in her mind’s eye. Lae’zel, strong and swift, surging ahead and slashing into goblins and orge. Gale shouting out spell after spell, a master in his craft. Shadowheart, shielding her, and then Astarion, quick as he cut down two orge on his own.

She’d been so close to death. Astarion’s previous lectures on self-preservation finally seemed to set in. She needed to be more careful. She had to start paying more attention. She needed to be more perceptive.

Mindflayers. Harpies. Goblins. Orges.

Phayelynn hadn’t thought she’d ever encounter anything like this.

She shifted again, moving, scratching at her hand anxiously. She moved to her side, fastening her eyes shut even tighter, praying to whichever god cared enough to listen to her to allow her to find some comfort in sleep.

She thought she had finally settled and found herself in a comfortable position but couldn’t shake off the persistent nagging to stay awake no matter how exhausted she was.

She breathed in. Then out. Again, deeper, slower- but it was no good. Her insides quivered, feeling a chill, and she gave another shift back. The hair on the back of her neck stood. She wasn’t alone. Her hand grazed against something cold but familiar. It felt like an arm or a leg. She was too unnerved to discern whether, but she knew someone was kneeling beside her as she appeared to be asleep.

Vampire.

Her breath hitched in the back of her throat.

She had forgotten all about what they had found on the road here. What both Gale and Astarion had concluded was the cause of the dead boar.

She froze.

No.

No, no, no, no.

Her mind was playing tricks on her from the lack of sleep. There was no way a vampire could’ve snuck into their camp without someone noticing. Astarion had offered to keep watch.

Oh, no.

The vampire got to him.

And she was next.

Shakely, she reached out, too afraid to open her eyes. She flinched, and so did whatever was crouched over her as her hand met what felt like a firm chest hovering over her.

Her eyes shot open, focusing on who recoiled above her.

Astarion.

“What?- what are you doing-,” Phayelynn’s voice was faint, gradually increasing in volume as his pointed canines bore down at her. She felt like she was slapped in the face as she saw him for what he was. “You’re--you’re the vamp-”

Terror struck him from the prospect of being caught. His deep, ruby eyes stood unblinking as he only reacted on instinct. Astarion didn’t allow Phayelynn to finish her sentence, cutting her off with a firm hand locked over her mouth, muffling her as she discovered what he was into fruition.

Kill her. Hide the body.

He scowled down at her as he pushed back his initial thoughts.

No, he wanted to shake his head. No one would believe him come morning if he went that route and played innocent. He lifted his head, looking around the camp. They all hadn’t stirred, all still stuck peacefully in the bedrolls.

“Shit,” he closed his eyes. He could feel her lips tremble under his palm.

Of all the idiotic ideas, he cursed himself; he could’ve feasted on anything else tonight. He thought Phayelynn would’ve been easy prey. He should’ve known better. But his mind was clouded.

“Ah!” he cried out, pulling his hand away from her mouth after she gave it a sharp bit. “Did you just bite me?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that?” Phayelynn spat, pushing harshly against his chest. “Get off of me before I thunderwave you back to Avernus!”

He saw her eyes dart to the others. They all slept in their tents while she stood next to the campfire. Gale was the furthest away, so Astarion hadn’t feared him being woken up yet. But Lae’zel had decided to pitch her tent next to his own, which was just in view. And then there was Shadowheart, who, like Gale, kept her distance, but the girl was so nosey he was surprised she hadn’t already splashed him with the vile of holy water she had found.

He reached for her again, clasping his hand down over her mouth once more as he saw her open it, most likely to scream for help. He knew he wasn’t helping his chances at gaining her trust, but he couldn’t have her getting the others involved. He’d never stand a chance. He could already feel the stake piercing his heart. He had some of a chance of talking himself out of this if it stood just between the two of them.

“Don’t scream, please.” He even pushed through with the tadpole, pleading for her to stay quiet and let himself explain. He felt her start to calm, but he could still hear her heart pounding in her chest. “I wasn’t going to hurt you, I swear.” He slowly started to raise his hand, leaving them where she could see them to show he meant no harm. He studied her as she began to sit up, waiting to see her next move.

“You weren’t going to hurt me?” She pushed herself away from him, reaching for the dagger she had placed underneath her pillow. She grasped it tightly but made no move at him.

She glanced around, seeing that no one had awakened yet. She should scream. She should shout for help. But she didn’t. She saw a flash of dread in Astarion’s eyes as she stared back at him. She deflated narrowly, deciding to keep her voice low as she held her dagger tighter, jerking it towards him, “You were going to eat me.”

“I wasn’t going to eat you, gods.” He snapped, not liking how she was looking at him. Of course, he didn’t blame her, but that didn’t affect his sentiments about how she pointed her dagger at him like some monster that parents told their stories to their children about to keep them from venturing out at night. He loured, failing at hiding his offense.

“Yes, I am a vampire, but I’m not a monster! I’ve been feeding on animals like that boar you cried over. Deer! I found a stray Kobold the other day. Whatever I can get, but it hasn’t been enough, thanks to all the trouble we’ve been getting ourselves into.” he rushed, trying to explain himself. He moved to stand, wanting to get ready if he needed to run.

“So you were going to skulk up on me for a midnight snack!” her eyes narrowed at him. She couldn’t help her voice as it rose. She didn’t like being below him, so she pushed herself up to stand with him. She kept the hand holding the dagger hung at her side while the other clenched into a fist on the other.

“Will you keep your voice down!” He hissed, taking a step forward. He saw her hand twitch, ready to strike him with her blade if he got too close. He bit his lip. He could disarm her quickly. Swipe her right off her feet. But he couldn’t do that if he wanted to escape this alive. He needed this group of weirdos to avoid turning into a Mindflayer. “I’m weak. I’m not used to all this....” his hands flapped about, trying to pick his following words carefully. “Fighting. It’s making me not be able to think clearly. I just need a little blood.”

Phayelynn didn’t say anything right away. He saw her gnawing at her cheek, deep in thought. He tried to reach out with his tadpole again, but she shut him out. She crossed her arms against her chest at his attempted intrusion.

“You really shouldn’t talk about stupid decision-making.” she shook her head at him.

She wrinkled her nose, unconvinced that he meant her no harm. This was why he had been acting so oddly with her. He’d been trying to trick her into friendship and a false sense of security. She wouldn’t lie and say she wasn’t a little relieved that that was why he’d been acting so shady with her. At least now she knew his motive. He was hungry.

She felt a pang of guilt when she grasped the desperation in his eyes. She didn’t need her tadpole to reach in to see it. He was at her mercy.

“Have you been planning this all along?”

“What?” he said, clearly confused.

“This, why you’re, you know, nicer to me than the others” she urged, holstering her knife. She had gotten the sense that she wouldn’t need it. “The other night by the river. Did you want to try this then?” she gently stepped forward.

“What? Gods, no. No.” He shook his head and could tell she didn’t fully buy it. He sighed heavily. “I was hungry last night, yes, and the thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t plan to or want to.”

“Is that why you left so suddenly? To stop yourself?”

He paused at her next question. No, that wasn’t why he had left. He left because she had asked too many questions, giving him a taste of his medicine. Like she was right now.

“Yes,” he lied, and she bought it, giving him an empathetic frown. He kept it up, taking his step forward. “As I said last night, I trust you the most out of everyone here. Questionable of me, yes, given your track record, but I suppose mine is just as bad after tonight.” he looked down at the ground before looking up at her longingly. “I think that’s why I came to you, even in my bloodlust haze, because I knew you’d understand. Or hoped.”

Phayelynn was taken aback. When he said he had trusted her the most, she hadn’t considered the extent of it. Was he just putting on another show? She blinked slowly, ignoring what she had caught him about to do to her. Skimming over him, she saw how stiff he stood, how on edge he was. She had to avert her eyes as she chastised herself for doubting him. Lips pressed together in a conflicted grimace, she cleared her throat, helping her find her voice again.

“You’re right. I would’ve understood.” She wet her lips. “You could’ve told me.”

“Could’ve told you,” he gave a quick snort. “Darling, as you’ve shown, my kind aren’t so received warmly.”

“Well, of course not. Not when you sneak up on people while they’re trying to sleep.” Phayelynn huffed. This was going nowhere. “If you had come to me beforehand, this would be completely different. Why say you trust me out of everyone? That you knew I would’ve understood if you still didn’t trust me with this? What’s the worst thing I could’ve done if you told me confidently?”

“At worst,” he said with a deliberate tilt of his head, “You’d ram a stake through my ribs or a dagger.” He motioned to her hip where it rested. “I do trust you, but I wasn’t sure if you trusted me. I wanted you to trust me.”

He looked away from her, unable to stomach her pity over him. He clenched his jaw.

Phayelynn shifted on her heels. She carefully weighed her options. She could tell him to act like this never happened. Tell him to go hunting, and she’d keep his secret from the others. That would be the easiest. The less painful and awkward for the pair of them. Or, she could wake the others and tell them about the vampire in their midst. But that would be cruel. Astarion wasn’t a monster. He could be an asshole, but he didn’t deserve a pike driven through his heart.

She bit her lip, pinching her eyebrows together.

“So, where are we doing this?” She asked, motioning around them.

Astarion squinted, looking back up at her uncertainly. She saw his stupor and rolled her eyes. She fixed a confident face, certain this was the right thing to do.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to suck my blood out in the open. If the others woke up and saw you hovering over me, I don’t think neither of us could talk them out of killing you. Especially Lae’zel.”

“Really now?” he smirked, amused. He let out a light chuckle. “I’d wager she’d let me drain you dry. Saying something along the lines of, that’s what you deserve, for so foolishly allowing a vampire to feed on you.” He bobbed his head toward Shadowheart’s tent. “I’d be more concerned about our cleric. She may not admit it, but she undoubtedly has a soft spot for you.”

His playfulness didn’t last long, a solemn frown replacing his smile. He ground his teeth, looking out into the night. He assumed Phayelynn would keep his secret but didn’t appreciate her toying with him.

“Thank you for understanding, but I don’t need the gallows humor. That’s my job.” He gave her a stern look.

Phayelynn shook her head, taking another step forward. They were so close now. She wanted to reach out to him, to show him she had been serious in her offer. “It’s not a joke. You can feed from me.” The words felt peculiar when said aloud. She tried to muster up all her sincerity, “Truly, Astarion. It’s okay,” she laughed a little at his apparent apprehension. “Of course, only take enough to make yourself stronger so you can go hunt something bigger. There’s probably some more goblins lurking about.”

“Darling, I’d never stoop so low as to dine on those filthy bastards.” His playfulness returned for a beat. She noticed the slump in his posture. He tried to play it off, giving her an all-too-quick smile before deflating. There was no point. “Really? I-, are you sure?” he asked her tentatively as if she were luring him into a trap.

“Yes.” she nodded firmly, hoping he’d believe her. She motioned behind him, towards his tent. “Should we do it in there?” she blushed at her words. “You know, like I said.”

“Somewhere private.” He nodded before leading her towards his tent. He felt nervous and could only imagine she did, too. She was willingly giving herself to him, putting herself entirely at his mercy. She trusted him.

He pulled back the curtains, revealing an array of plush pillows and warm furs. A few books scattered about, and some of the trinkets and whatnots, but he kept his tent neat otherwise. He let Phayelynn enter first, a force of habit, before following her in, letting the curtain close behind them.

It was darker than outside without the moonlight. Astarion bent forward, reaching for the candle he left on a small crate he’d used as a nightstand. It was dim, but he could still see her tense.

“You don’t have to do this,” he sighed. The bard probably saw him as just another poor sod that needed help.

She turned to face him, a look of determination washing over her. “I know, now how should we do this? Standing? Or lying down? I--whatever’s easier for you?”

He gave a soft chuckle, bringing a hand up to motion to the furs. “Lay down, make yourself comfortable.”

She nodded, looking behind her and kneeling when she found a suitable spot. She tugged some pillows from where they sat and brought them closer before settling down on her back, making herself comfortable.

“Where did you find these? They’re so soft.” She sighed contently. Her neck had been getting stiff every morning from the nights sleeping on her bedroll. She’d been jealous of her companions, having found tents to pitch while she hadn’t. She did find herself thinking, wondering where they found them.

“The Grove. Where else?” Astarion chuckled, kneeling next to her. “You should invest in one. Really, what are you going to do if one night it decides to rain?” She pulled a face, unmistakably having not thought of that. He let out another laugh, giving her a once-over. “Are you comfortable?” She nodded, and he leaned down, “This will only hurt for a moment,”

Phayelynn closed her eyes, hands clenching the furs underneath her as she braced herself. His face was at her, the crock of her neck, his breath softly beating against her skin, making her gasp. Her heart beat fast again as she felt him unclench his jaw, mouth open and pressed against her. She arched her back, bringing a hand up to grasp his shoulder as his fangs pierced her skin like shards of ice.

Her body shook as the sharp pain struck her deep, and she was unable to stop the moan from escaping past her lips. It was numbing and throbbing at the same time. Her blood coursed through her, fleeting as he drank it up. Her grip on her shoulder tightened, but not in discomfort or fear. It was an unknown emotion, one she couldn’t find a word for. Exhilarating?

She shook, squeezing her eyes shut as Astarion tangled a hand in her hair, an effort to help her settle back down or make her growing desire worse, which one she didn’t know. She didn’t know how long she let him continue to drink from her, but she felt herself starting to slip. Opening her eyes, she saw spots and a wave of dizziness. She was going to faint. Her hand fell from his shoulder, her body heavy. She let her hand move to his chest, giving the most pathetic shove she could rally.

“...’Starion,” she hardly recognized her voice as she spoke. “Too much...” she moaned as she felt more blood leave her.

She swore he growled against her. It made her drop grip on his shirt, digging her fingers into the fabric to ground herself. Was she enjoying this? Why was she enjoying this? She wondered what would happen if she let him keep going. He would drain her dry, surely. No, he promised, not a drop more than he needed. But the numbness and the intimacy of it all felt good. She shook again as the grip on her hair tightened. What if she didn’t want him to stop? Shadowheart surely had some Scrolls of Revivify tucked away in her pact, right?

She caught her breath. Her pulse quickened.

No, this was bad. Phayelynn couldn’t let him continue.

With one hand still clinging to his shirt, readying to attempt to channel the energy to conjure a thunderwave if he didn’t budge, Phayelynn brought up the other, lacing her fingers through his white locks, sighing at how soft they were to the touch. She furrowed her brow, scolding herself for getting so quickly distracted. She gave him a weak tug, fingernails scraping against his scalp to gain Astarion’s attention.

“No, ‘Starion,” she winced, “please.”

She felt him tense above her, fangs still puncturing her, but he stopped lapping at her. He groaned, not in irritation for having to stop, but simply out of satisfaction, pleasure even. Feebly, he unlatched himself from her, giving her neck a lick to gather up the leftover blood. He took his time pulling away from her, the hand that held her head letting go, making her pout. He gave her a soothing chuckle, grinning as he brought that hand up to pull hers out of his hair, lacing their fingers together, a surprisingly tender gesture he hadn’t expected himself to do or make an attempt to end.

He stared down at her, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, letting their hands rest against her chest. He heard her pulse weakening but still flutter at the contact. He felt somewhat bad for taking so much from her. He couldn’t help himself. She was delicious.

“That was...that was amazing,” he finally spoke, his eyes blown in wonderment. “My mind is clear. I feel strong. I feel happy?” The haze he had found himself in was gone. His eyes flickered down at Phayelynn. She was struggling to keep her own open.

“I’m glad I could help.” Her voice was so quiet that he wouldn’t have understood it if he hadn’t been inches from her face. The hand holding onto his shirt dropped, landing unceremoniously on the floor. She closed her eyes, lulling to sleep.

“Rest,” he let go of her hand, giving her cheek a soft caress before catching himself. He squinted, glaring at the affection. “I won’t forget this.” He muttered before standing.

He watched her briefly before stalking out of his tent and closing the curtains. He paused, looking back, imagining Phayelynn curled up in his furs, surely getting drool all over his pillows. And even supposing that, he didn’t find himself annoyed by the thought. He sneered, shaking his head and refocusing. As invigorating as that was, he needed more. And he felt stronger. More confident. Ready to hunt.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #tav bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion romance #astarion x mc #bard oc #bg3 spoilers #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate

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thunderwavesolveseverything · 5 months

Text

The Night We Met

[Astarion x Named Tav]

Astarion gave her a beguiling smirk, his body moving fluidly as he waved his hand about, “Darling, I’m bored out here in the wilderness. I’m only trying to gossip.” “Then read a book. We found plenty.” She narrowed her eyes, hinting about the giant stack Gale had built near his tent with his finds from the crypt. Astarion's curiosity was genuinely peeked now. Was this little bard hiding a deep, dark, dirty secret? He kept his mouth closed as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

or...

Astarion tries to flirt, to keep setting his nice, simple plan in motion but fails, only succeeding in touching a nerve.

Can we all say a thank you to Larian for blessing us with patch 5? Cause omg

Also the song Phayelynn sang in the last chapter and the song I named this chapter after is "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron. I really love that song, and I think it's perfect for any Tav/Astarion relentionship, or even any Tav/companions. It's just a really cute song ❤️

(word count: 3,604)

Read on AO3 or below :)

Masterlist for Phayelynn's adventures here

The Night We Met

Phayelynn had found a little secluded spot for herself down by the river that ran by their camp. The moon reflected against the easy current, giving the air a soft glow, and for a moment, she felt at peace. The only sounds were cricket chirping and the crackling of the campfire a little ways away.

She let out a deep sigh, willing away the tension that had been building up within. The peace only lasted a moment. She found herself growing restless again, her mind already spiraling on thoughts of back home. Her uncle- she didn’t want to think about what he must be going through right now after her disappearance. He was smart, and it wouldn’t take long for him to realize what had happened to her. They had arrived just outside of Baldur’s Gate a few days before the Nautiloid showed, and he knew Phayelynn’s curiosity for the city would’ve lured her in while he was getting word on their next job.

She could only hope that’s what he assumed was her reasoning for venturing into the city alone. No god would save her from his wrath if he found out her true reasoning. If she survived this, she’d never speak of her attempted foolish endeavor and rush back to him and pretend non of this ever happened.

Phayelynn let out another sigh, leaning back so her palms rested flat against the dirt floor and she could get a clear view of the starry night sky. Her hand came into contact with a scrap of paper, and a smile flashed across her face. She picked up the piece of parchment, eyes glancing over it once more.

It was the story Mirkon had written for her, his way of thanking her for saving him from the harpies. The way his face lit up as she thanked him, encouraging his creativity was worth the scolding she had gotten later on from Shadowheart.

The cleric had been furious, to put it lightly, when she had learned of their detours. She berated Phayelynn like a child. It was embarrassing- more embarrassing than her and Gale’s first meeting only a day ago.

Why had she slapped his hand? That’s clearly not what he had meant. She shook her head and cringed at the memory.

At least Lae’zel had her back. To an extent, of course. She’d been vocal since entering the grove that the druids were a waste of time. While in the marketplace, Lae’zel and Shadowheart had come across the tiefling Zorru, the gith had mentioned. He marked their map with the location of where there’d been Githyanki sightings. Phayelynn saved time by insulting Kagha and refusing help from their healer. Finding her people and a creche should be their only focus.

Gale had intervened, telling them they should all rest and turn in for the night, having finished putting away their food supplies. He’d offer to cook, to which their stomachs had been grateful. He could sense Shadowheart’s desire not to drop the subject, and Astarion only encouraged her, egging her on at Phayelynn’s expense. As her companions started trickling off to their respective tents, Phayelynn made sure to shoot Gale a thankful look before heading off to her little spot.

“It’s quite a sight.”

Phayelynn jumped, shuffling where she sat at the sudden voice. She turned her head, eyes wide, her heart slowly settling when she saw that it was just Astarion. Her relief didn’t last long as she gave him a questioning look.

What did he want now?

Astarion wasn’t looking at her, standing a few feet away, staring out into the night sky. He finally craned his neck down, looking over her face with a grin. He waved his hands out towards the scenery before them, “The stars, I mean. I could take or leave your chin.”

Phayelynn gave him a sour look, letting out a huff. She turned her back to him, not in the mood. She narrowed her eyes at the parchment in her hands when she heard his chuckle, followed by his footsteps against the gravel of the riverside shore.

“Am I disturbing you?” He asked once he stood next to where she sat, looking down at what she was reading. He leaned down slightly to get a better look.

“Actually, you kind of are,” Phayelynn said without looking up. She tried to focus on Mirkon’s words, on anything besides him.

“Hmm….” Astarion began reading over her shoulder. “Very strong…killed the harpies in one blow-Ha! Want to be just like the greatest bard ever. Well, I guess embellishing the details comes with the profession, so he has potential.”

Phayelynn folded the paper so he could no longer read it. She still didn’t want to meet his eye, knowing that he was being purposely nasty to her now at this point. She had thought they might be friends, but now she wasn’t so sure.

However, something about him made her want to know more. To not completely toss out the idea of friendship. She could read this performance from a mile away. Why he felt the inclination to put on an act for her, she didn’t know but it was indiscreet, She’d been doing the same for years- pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

She gave him a pensive look, studying his face as his eyes met her at her folding of the parchment. They were all still practically strangers. They didn’t owe each other the truths of their backstories. She definitely wasn’t willing to share hers yet, so she couldn’t expect him to be ready to share his.

She could indulge him for now.

With a playful shrug, she settled back comfortably. “I don’t know, I think it’s very cute. And sweet,” she gave him a teasing smile, and he tilted his head, amused and intrigued, “You’re just jealous there’s no mention of a grumpy pale fellow.”

“A grumpy pale fellow?” his own smile straightened out with a huff, “Really?”

“Well, I’m just saying,” she shrugged, turning away from him to look out into the water. “maybe if you’re a little nicer to people, you’ll get a story written about you someday.”

“And will you be the one to write it?” he smirked, looking her up and down before moving to sit on a nearby stone not too far from her. He looked back out into the sky.

“Like I said, maybe if you start being a little nicer. And if I don’t have anything better to do,” she kept the airiness in her tone. She didn’t sound too seriously invested in the conversation, but she also made sure to make herself not sound bored either.

He let out a loud chuckle, his head falling back. She quirked an eyebrow. It had seemed rehearsed. Scripted. She bit back a frown, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.

She rested her head on her knees as she looked over his features. His strong jaw, deep, ruby red eyes- the way his hair curled around his face. He looked too flawless. Too perfect, she settled on. It was drawing her in.

What was he trying to gain from her with this? He wasn’t this way with the others. She got a flash of dread and panic but hid it just as well.

“Did you want something?” she asked before he could speak. He opened his mouth, caught off guard by her question. She could tell this was already derailing from how he wanted this conversation to go. She continued, “It’s just, I thought you’d still be brooding after today.”

Astarion laughed, this time seeming a little more genuine. He gave her another once over before looking away. “No, no, I just wanted a quiet place to think. Gale’s snoring- terrible.” he shuddered at the thought before looking back at the girl. “I wanted to reflect on the events of the day; how you have the irresistible urge to trifle in other’s business despite my best advice.”

Phayelynn couldn’t stop the dramatic roll of her eyes.

“You didn’t have to help.” She sighed, feeling a smidge bit guilty. He had gotten pretty diced up in their fight against the harpies. Shadowheart, thankfully, was able to heal the claw marks sliced across his face without leaving scars. The bitterness from earlier returned though, his and Shadowheart’s ganging up on her at dinner still not blown over. “I think you’ve all gotten your point across for the day.”

Astarion loosened his shoulders.

“I supposed,” he raised a hand, motioning about before clenching it into a fist, dropping his down to his lap, “It’s not an awful trait to have- rather too noble for my tastes, but I guess what you did for that boy and the little thief could be deemed admirable to most.”

“I-I-” she stammered at first, “I couldn’t just stand by and not help. I’m sorry. I have a soft spot for kids.”

“Noted,” Astarion nodded. “So our little trip to the old woman’s house should have no hitches.”

Phayelynn couldn’t help but laugh, remembering Shadowheart mentioning that tomorrow she wanted them to meet with a woman she’d met in the market, who promised something that could help them. They only had to travel to her home at the edge of the woods.

“Shadowheart says I’m the bad one.” she giggled. “Ten gold this woman she’s talking about is a witch or a hag- some fairytale creature. I mean, seriously? A little old lady who lives alone in the woods? I know she’s suffering from memory loss, but Shadowheart seems to have read at least one children’s tale as a child?”

Astarion laughed heartily in agreement.

“Well, darling, I supposed you’ll be the one tomorrow to make Shadowheart eat her own words then?”

She smiled.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the fire, crickets, and occasional owl hooting returning them to a calm.

Astarion shifted, not wanting to sit in silence for long.

“That song, the one you sang to break us out of the harpy’s spell?” he asked, “Did you write it?”

“Oh, that? No,” she blushed, her hands suddenly needing to play with something. She started to fiddle with the parchment, bending it back and forth, forcing herself to stop so she wouldn’t wear it out and rip it. She started picking at the itchy fabric of her tunic. “My father wrote it. I- er, I have his journal. He was a bard, too, he traveled a lot. He’d write about his adventures, and then some of the songs he wrote are also there. He had written that about my mother.”

Astarion felt her hesitation on the subject, hinting at an all too evidently unoriginal backstory for her. Boring, he hummed to himself, but he concealed it well. His hand trailed up to play with a curl behind his ear, having seen her eyes trace over them earlier. He gave her a specious smile, “Tell me, you’ve mentioned living with an uncle? Let me guess, you were orphaned at a young age, and all you have left is your father’s journal. You aspire to be just like him. Hmm?”

Phayelynn looked uncomfortable, and Astarion had to keep himself from showing his panic. Maybe he dug deep a little too fast. He saw her shift, grasping at the paper and shoving it in her pocket. She was about to stand.

He could easily still save this.

“Wait-” he stood as she did, reaching out a hand to keep her in place. Her jaw clenched, an ugly twist to her pink lips. He laid a hand against his breastbone, his shoulders pulled down low. “I’m not good at this. What I was trying to say, in a long, looped-around way, was that it was beautiful. Your voice was…” he paused, his voice growing deeper as he spoke. “beautiful.”

“Oh,” she said dumbly. She bit her lip, nervously and stupidly falling for his charm. Part of her told her it was an act, but another voice told her this part wasn’t. She felt a slight itch. It was her tadpole reaching into his.

Beautiful.

Sincere.

“You’re not far off.” She admitted, swallowing the lump in her throat hard. Maybe he would do the same if she opened herself up to him only a little. “I wasn’t that young. I was about 16 when I lost them.”

“Darling, I’m over 200 years old. That is young.” He laughed. He tried to gauge her age. “You’re a half-elf, but you are—-young? If 16 isn’t young to you, you can’t be more than a few decades old.”

“I’m 28,” she confirmed sheepishly.

“That does explain a lot.” he snickered as she rolled her eyes again at him.

“My lack of self-preservation?” she cocked an eyebrow.

“So you do listen to me when I talk?” He took a step forward, leaving less space between them.

He recounted her back with the tiefling children when they had returned to Mirkon and went into their little cave hideout. She had said she knew what it was like to have to steal to survive. Her self-proclaimed soft spot for children- he was starting to paint a clear picture of her to work with.

“What did you mean, back when we dropped the boy off? I take it you and your uncle didn’t live comfortably?”

Her eyebrows pinched together, giving him a too-quick smile. She was unable to hide her caution. He was asking too many questions. Too many specific questions. She doubted he cared to learn about her. She felt a flare of nervousness.

Did he know?

Her eyes squinted at him. She tried to pull through to him through their connection, but she felt him close himself off to her. She tilted her head, and he did the same at her, knowing she had caught him.

No, hells, there’d be no way he would know.

He stood up straight, lightly scolding himself for not expecting her sudden shift in tone. He was only a few days out of Baldur’s Gate and already out of practice. He pulled a beguiling face, his body moving fluidly as he waved his hand about, “Darling, I’m bored out here in the wilderness. I’m only trying to gossip.”

She narrowed her eyes a second time.

“Then read a book. We found plenty.” She hinted about the giant stack Gale had built near his tent with his finds from the crypt.

His curiosity was genuinely peeked now. Was this little bard hiding a deep, dark, dirty secret? He kept his mouth closed as he ran his tongue over his teeth.

“I touched a nerve,” he said flatly, leaving the statement up to her interpretation.

“Fine,” Phayelynn said abruptly, crossing her arms against her chest. “My mother got sick.” her voice was tight, never staggering as she gave him the gossip he wanted, “She died a year into her sickness, and my father was murdered by some asshole a few days later. My uncle took me in. We were constantly traveling, trying to make money to survive. We stole a lot. We had the whole act down. I would distract the audience with my playing, and then my uncle would go around pit-pocketing the crowd. Not very noble, but it kept us fed. That boy, Mattis, and his sister were using a charmed coin. It changes to whatever side the person who cast the charm says. It was one of the first tricks my uncle taught me. That’s how I knew the girl would steal from me. Every time I said heads or tail, and Mattis repeated after me, it was pretty clear what they were up to. Now, anything else?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to ask her one more question.

“You can’t just end it there!” His eyes lit up, a little too delighted. “Murder? Your little thieving days? I want the details, darling! The most important parts are clearly being left out!” He pouted.

She scoffed at him. She shouldn’t have put it past him to be this insensitive.

“I told you everything you need to know. Maybe if you tell me more about yourself, I’ll be more inclined to further expand.”

“What’s more to tell? I’m a magistrate back in the city- rather boring in comparison.” He sighed, looking at his nails. He quickly changed the subject. He gave her a nod, “I guess I should be giving you more credit than I have. When this little adventure of ours is over, will you return to your days of thieving and conning the innocent?”

Phayelynn let out a heavy sigh. That was a question she hadn’t wanted to think about. It was almost more terrifying than the tadpole wiggling in her head.

“I don’t know.” she looked to the side, back to the water hitting softly against the shore. “I left for Baldur’s Gate on my own. I had business there I wanted to do on my own.”

“So the mystery behind the great bard continues,” he smirked slyly.

She huffed; she didn’t owe him an explanation. She turned to face him, looking him over teasingly and with a mischievous grin. She could work this conversation just as well as he was trying to. “Why? Are you going to be sad when our little adventure together is over?”

Astarion allowed her to change the subject, “Ha! You are quite the ally- even with the little hiccups we’ve had thus far on our journey. I guess the tiefling child did have some proper idea about you. Traversing Avernus? Surviving the crash? The Goblin pack? Standing up to the druid and then facing off against a flock of harpies?” he listed off on his fingers, titling his head side to side in a sing-song way to each. When he was done, he put his hand down, looking her square in the eye, making her breath hitch. “Jokes aside, I’m not easily impressed by people, and when I am, I don’t know how to really show it- and we do have our rather different views on things, but all that being, I have to say, out of all our companions, you’re the one I’ve grown to trust and want to stand by the most.”

He blinked a few times at her, his face softening.

Sincere.

Phayelynn took a breath as their tadpoles connected again.

“I don’t know if I want you to run off from me just yet.”

Phayelynn let his words sink into her like the harpy’s song. Her face flushed. “Oh, I thought you didn’t like me.”

Why was she suddenly so shy?

“You have your quirks, but I rather not beat a dead horse,” he admitted, seeing her fall but he only allowed it for a moment. “You have your charms as well.” He looked at her with a dangerously pretty smile on his lips. He lowered his voice, “More than you think.”

Phayelynn felt her heart start to beat fast. Uncontrollably so, for that matter. She tried to tell herself not to take too much stock in his words, but how could she not? Not when he said them while looking at her the way he was looking at her. Like she was some precious thing, and under the moonlight and stars to add to it.

“We could still travel together.” She pipped up before she could think about her words.

“A delicious thought,” Astarion said, making her heart flutter. He pulled her eagerness back, “But,” he trailed off, giving her a moment to jump in, seeing her flustered face at his choice of words.

“I’m just joking. ” she tried to back peddle. “I have to return to my uncle once this is all said and done. And I’m sure you have some big life back in the city. Being a magistrate and all.”

Her comment threw him off as if he had forgotten he’d told her that. He quickly gathered himself, “Yes, of course. I can’t spend the rest of my life gallivanting in the wilderness. I miss civilization. A firm bed, plush pillows, good wine-” He tried to pick himself back up, but thoughts of what was actually waiting for him back in the city started to plague him. He let out a tired sigh. “Darling, I enjoyed this chat, truly, but I’m getting tired. I’m going to go rest my head.”

“Oh,” Phayelynn looked a little surprised by his sudden shift. “Okay.”

He flashed her one last smile for the night. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight.”

“You too,” she frowned as he rushed off.

She took a few minutes to replay the conversation, a sour feeling bubbling in her stomach. She felt entranced by their private moment alone, but also something felt wrong about the entire thing. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it anymore. She was getting tired.

She stood and started heading back towards her bedroll near the fire, not realizing the chill that ran up her arms now. It was dark, the light of the fire not too far off, she couldn’t wait for her head to hit her pillow, she was so tired-

“We meet again, as I predicted.”

“Hells!” Phayelynn nearly jumped out of her skin for a second time that night at the sound. She let out a shrill scream, surely alerting the others in the camp as she turned her head towards the direction of the voice, seeing the being from the dank crypt that had come out of the sarcophagus.

Maybe Astarion was right; she missed civilization.

___

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