Chapter Text
Fen recognised the remains of the caravan almost immediately.
The symbol of the Black Network was carved inconspicuously into the mudguard of the wrecked wagon.
That knot in her stomach returned as the more noble members of the party suggested they look for survivors to the North.
Astarion naturally had rolled his eyes at the suggestion of helping others, which for once Fen was welcome for, but had quickly changed his tune at the mention of potential loot.
She had remembered a wagon very similar to this, trailing behind her own on her way to Baldur's Gate just before the ilithid kidnapping. They had broken off several days before at a rest stop on their way from the Calim Desert. Fen dreaded to think of the "loot" that they would find, or the souls who had been kept captive.
The gnolls themselves were a formidable enemy. They had a smell which Fen could only describe as being a mix between viscera and wet dog. Astarion himself had gagged after sinking his teeth into one such creature.
Feeling particularly filled with newfound confidence, she had felt the buzz of the earth as she shaped the ground beneath the Flind into hard piercing spikes, holding it in place ready for the blow of Karlach's axe.
Gale gave a cheer as she threw an ice knife through the chest of a gnoll he had immobilised with a "hold" spell.
There was a small sense of relief in the blood shed as she realised that yes, she still had it in her.
The men themselves in the cave were of little help, choosing to cower in the shadows instead of fight.
"This whole journey's been just one grim sight after another. Gnolls, goblins, mind-flayers- " The younger man, who they had learned was called Olly, moaned.
"Sorry, did you say mind-flayers?" Shadowheart asked. Fen was now finding anything to look busy away from the group. She had searched the same gnoll several feet away for things to sell twice now. She hoped no one had noticed.
"Yes, we're bound for Baldur's Gate, but we’ve not had nothing but trouble since we left Manshaka." The younger man grumbled. Fen felt Astarion's burning gaze on her, but she didn't look up from the weapon she was closely examining.
"One of the wagons in our caravan broke off from the convoy in Nashkel to make better time but was attacked on the Sword Coast Road."
Fen remembered that night clearly, it had been raining. Lightning had struck a nearby pine tree, causing it to crash into the road in front of them as they were fleeing, barely missing the horses. They had no chance. They were cornered.
"Were there survivors?" Wyll asked.
"No, just corpses by the time we got there."
Good
Fen wondered whether she could wild-shape into a dormouse and just hide in one of her companion's bags. Perhaps not Gales - he made an active effort to pocket any book he come across and she would surely be crushed. Or maybe she could take one of the groups newfound potions and disappear into thin air.
The older man, Rugan, shot a cautioning look to Olly, "Well thank you again. We'll find help at Waukeen's Rest just up the way…"
"I don't remember you saying thank you the first time, " Shadowheart muttered.
"Wait a moment!" Astarion chimed up. "Am I misinterpreting this, but did we risk our lives killing those mangey beasts for nothing in return? No financial renumeration at all?" He looked around the party incredulously.
"Ha, well," Rugan said awkwardly, "You know we have just had our caravan raided, it’s not like we have anything to offer you…"
"What about the chest literally right there." Astarion pointed, not breaking eye contact with the man.
"What? This? It's nothing. Just some nonsense artifacts for some rich twat in the city, " Rugan shrugged.
"This business sounds like a rather rough trade." Astarion said, tapping his upper lip in a way Fen had seen other rogues employ when conversing. Thieves cant she realised. From the context she wondered whether the elf had threatened the men.
"Business at the end of a blade is still business, eh?" the older man said chuckling before rubbing his left eyebrow with three fingers. He stood to pick up the chest from the cave floor. "As my grandmother used to say, the littlest serpent casts the longest shadow." Both turning to leave.
"What the f*ck was that about?" Karlach asked once the men were out of sight. Fen visibly relaxed in their absence.
"Zhentarim," Astarion explained, wiping his dagger on the fur of the hyena by his feet with a look of distain, "They have a hideout at the tavern up the road. There we'll get our reward."
"Oooh, thieves cant!" Gale chuckled, "How fun”.
Fen anxiously picked at the stale bread from her backpack as they continued on, purposely walking behind the rest of the party. She supposed she was vulnerable at the rear but needed the space to collect her thoughts.
They hadn't recognised her, that was obvious enough, but then she supposed she had spent the long journey from Manshaka in wild-shape. The anti-magic shackle around her neck had ensured that. To any of the smugglers travelling with them, they were moving just a whining dog. Little to no explanation was given as to why this dog had such secure transport across Faerûn. She was sure they must have had questions, but none were asked. You didn't get far in the Zhentarim questioning your Lord.
"Charming friends you have, there" Astarion dropped back to walk alongside her, "Nice of them to invite us back for tea and biscuits."
"I have no idea what you mean." Fen feigned ignorance, struggling to chew a particularly crusty morsel of bread, "Anyway, they looked more like people you'd associate with."
"Hmm, an odd coincidence" He sneered sarcastically, "A caravan coming up from arse -end-of-nowhere, Manshaka attacked by a mind flayer ship on the journey to Baldur's Gate, no that’s definitely an unusual occurrence." He bought his fist to his mouth in a thoughtful gesture. "Downright spooky that it would happen twice."
"Definitely unusual" She returned, flatly. "More unusual things have happened though…"
"And we do seem to attract the unusual, don't we puss*cat?" He bumped her gently on the shoulder. She groaned in response.
"Well, I won't tell if you won't" He said rather musically, "What's a secret amongst friends-"
"Friends?" She asked a little too quickly.
"Is that not what we are? After everything we’ve shared together?" He asked, now clutching his chest in mock-heart break.
"Astarion, I've had a stone in my shoe since this morning. I'd say that's a more welcome travel companion than you right now”.
"That's not-" Astarion opened his mouth as if to parry with his own sly comment but was cut off by the shouts of help and the plume of smoke now rising over the horizon.
Waukeen's Rest was ablaze.
Karlach had been the only companion safe enough to enter the building. In a feat of heroics, she had helped break the door of the inn down before bringing not one but two of the survivors inside to safety. She had barely broken a sweat when she had returned with Counsellor Florrick. She was clearly still acclimatised to the heat of Avernus. The backdraft of the upper floor was a breeze.
The others waited outside anxiously, tending to the injured outside. None looked more concerned than Wyll who's face had become frozen with fear at the first call for Duke Ravenguard.
Him and Gale had stayed behind to talk with Florrick to learn more about the cultist attack and the resulting kidnapping. Fen was out of earshot when Gale's face flashed with surprise at a comment of Florrick's before animatedly turning to ask Wyll more questions. Fen made a mental note to ask more about this from Gale later on.
The rest of the party continued on, moving towards the outbuildings to the West.
"Do you hear that?" Astarion asked, pointing towards one particular shack, "There's someone moving around inside, I have a feeling that’s what we're looking for" Fen realised what it was he was looking for. It wasn't the hope of finding any more survivors, more so the pursuit of his reward. The Zhentarim hideout.
The concealed human startled Fen. She had gasped when she saw him, a spell crackling in his fingers. She was evidently on edge.
Astarion with a hand on her shoulder stepped forward, smiling at the man.
"Woah there, don't want to start any more unnecessary fires today, do we?" He asked confidently. "Little Serpent. Long shadow" he said when the jumpy man before him didn't relax.
Fen's anxiety didn't wain once the man let them pass. Descending into the hideout, she struggled to hear her companions over the white noise in her ears. Her eyes scoured the chambers, hoping desperately not to find a familiar face. She felt cornered and on edge, a mouse walking willingly into a trap - a trap she'd been in before. If she weren't so fearful she may have laughed at the foolishness.
Zarys eyed her suspiciously as she discussed the reward they had sought with the others. Fen twitched under her gaze. She hadn't met the human woman, but she couldn’t help but worry that she knew.
Because the Zhentarim always knew.
The first time she had tried to escape, they had known.
A guard had bought her confidante to the bars of her cell and made her watch as he had slit his throat. All of her hope pouring out of his bubbling neck and spilling onto the stone floor.
The second time she had tried to escape, they had known.
When she had attempted to shift into an Eagle and soar to safety, mages shot lightning to bring her crashing back to the ground before she'd even made it ten feet. They had always known. They had learnt to use the Sussur shackles after that point.
The "taming" started after her third attempt.
If there was anything to be learnt from her imprisonment, it was that the Zhentarim always knew.
However, if Zarys had recognised Fen, she didn't let it on. Continuing to bargain and discuss with their rogue like old business partners. Fen felt sick to her stomach. She wanted nothing more than to bury these monsters in the hideout of their hollowing. She longed to hear their muffled screams through the dirt. But instead, she kept quiet as the party bartered for no doubt stolen goods. Her mind reeled. She hoped whatever they had gained was worth it. For they had unknowingly paid with a small part of her sense of safety.
She had insisted they paid for the kidnapped artist's freedom, which was as much as she had said during their time with the Black Network. The thought of leaving the man made her shake with rage.
When the trader had asked Fen to make an offer on the man's life, she wondered sickeningly how much money had been exchanged for hers behind closed doors. What was her worth? Defined by discreet discussions of others.
"Such a bleeding heart," The vampire groaned as they reached above ground, making their way back to their camp, "That was a good chunk of our gold you wasted”.
The transaction had made her feel nauseous, but not for the reason he meant. She knew she would be up until late that night, justifying buying another man's life, even if she had granted him his freedom immediately. She had contributed to a system she was a victim of.
Gale's newly acquired scrolls of warding had given her a small sense of comfort that night. Watching the wizard work to protect the camp from unexpected nocturnal visitors, she was able to unclench her teeth for the first time that day, relieved that the chances of her being dragged off in the middle of the night had somewhat reduced.
Wyll had remained up late that night, lost in his thoughts about his captured father. Fen had given him what support she could until the little hours of the morning, but he had returned to his tent with the same haunted look he had arrived with.
He thanked Fen before he left. Leaving her feeling colder than before next to the now dying fire.
Her eyes searched the tree line around them, unsure what she was expecting to find. Perhaps a goblin raiding party lurking in the bushes? Maybe a swarm of mindflayers, their foreheads throbbing with psionic power? Or worse, Zhent exotic trappers ready to snatch her away and back to the Livestock Pen for auction. Back to Him.
What she didn't expect was to find Astarion, sauntering his way over to her on his way back from the woods - no doubt following a successful hunt.
He moved with an unnatural grace to the campfire where she was sitting, examining a small blood stain on his white billowing shirt.
"Oh, well that'll never get out, will it?" He tutted.
"Going hunting in a white shirt was brave of you." She replied, although she doubted, he was really talking to her.
"I'm actually a very clean eater." He continued rubbing at the spot. "I'm quite skilled with my mouth - as you must well remember."
She was thankful he was distracted, or else he may have seen the blush bloom in her cheeks, although given his vampiric sense she was sure he must have been able to smell it.
"You've been weird today" he said after some time, giving up on his shirt to face her. "All shifty, and odd. Not keen to catch up with old friends then?"
"They aren't my friends" She seethed. "And I would prefer it if you dropped it." Her eyes fixated on the fire before her.
"I don't know what it is you've gotten yourself into with the Zhent, but you better not let it come back to bite us in the arse." He sneered. "I don't care for other people's messes."
In the silence between them that followed, Fen felt a small twinge of guilt. Here she was safely behind her walls, having lectured him not three days ago to be more honest.
"What was it you were hunting?" She asked after a time, the fire had long burnt out, and now they were both watching the way the breeze danced in the still warm ashes.
"Just some rabbits" He huffed, "Slim pickings out there this evening, I'm afraid." He looked to side to face her.
"Oh sorry, were they also friends of yours?" He asked, bringing a leg over to straddle the log they were both sitting on. "Never know with your type. I was scared to trod on a dandelion at the Grove in case I upset your lot”.
"My lot?"
"You know, you're type" He gestured to all of her. "Wood elves… druids…"
"Can’t be that filling, rabbits."
"Nothing compared to - well other things I could be dining on." Fen felt a bubble of annoyance at the notion of being called an ‘other thing’ - "But significantly better than the rats and bugs Cazador served me."
"Cazador?"
"My old master" He look down and away from her, eyebrows pinching together. "Before the mindflayers took me from him. Before this strange, twisted freedom."
Fen knew the tales of true vampire and the ancient power they held over their spawn - little more than flesh puppets - commanded to do their dark bidding. He didn't conduct himself in the manner of a man newly saved from a life of slavery. But then, did she?
The artist they had rescued from the Zhentarim had all but kissed her as he made his journey back to Baldur's Gate - a monumental weight off his shoulders. Fen didn't feel nearly as light. How long did a person have to be in captivity until they lost all hope.
She liked to think she still clung onto some remanence of faith in others. She had been keen to save the Tiefling child at the Grove and had campaigned the others to assist with clearing the goblin encampment whilst searching for the druid Halsin. Her God's will or not, she still cared.
Astarion however didn't afford people the same faith. How long had he been a slave?
"But that was the past." He remained looking away, with that far off look in his eye. She understood. He was somewhere else, then. "I'll never have to grovel for him again. I'll never obey his commandment again."
"First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures." He curled his lip, exposing one of his razor fangs.
"Wait, does that mean - " She asked, his gaze snapped towards her, and as simple as that he was back with her.
"Ah yes, that's why I was somewhat a little eager, before. But can you blame me? You were my first." He smirked devishly as that tell-tale mask slid back over his face. "Was it as good for you as it was for me?"
She would have perhaps groaned at the egregious attempt at flirting had she not witnessed the display of mental turbulence on the man's face before her. It seemed he lived in a fine balance of either being protected by his confident camouflage, or a thousand miles away in a deep crevices in his mind. Fen doubted she would ever get to meet the real Astarion.
"And what-" she began but stopped herself. She wanted to tread carefully. "H-how did you turn?"
He raised an eyebrow in response. That cursed eyebrow.
"Gods, I'm sorry, if it's a rude question to ask…" Fen tried to backtrack.
But he chuckled once in response. "I don't really recall much about the whole thing. I had passed an… unpopular judgement on a group of Gur who then took it upon themselves to follow me and attack me in the night in Baldur's Gate. I would have died had Cazador not appeared and saved me" He scoffed. "Left the 'eternal slave' clause out at the time though."
"Do you miss it?" Her voice was small. He gave her a questioning look. "Being alive?"
This time when he chuckled it was with more effort, but the smile lines never quite reached his eyes. "Can you miss something you don't remember?"
For the first time, Fen felt an odd sense of gratitude. Yes, she had lost decades of her life, but at least she could still remember the feel of fresh grass and sunshine on her face. She could still hear her mother's voice.
"As lovely as this conversation is, I must retire after my rather disappointing dinner. "
He began to move away, Fen suddenly feeling a flash of alarm. The conversation topics had been heavy, but after today she was craving the company.
"Wait - Do you… need more?"
"What are you suggesting little druid?" His voice was as dark as the shadows under his eyes.
"Well, you can feed from me tonight." She said, impressed with how quickly she recovered her confidence. "If you want." She felt the need to tag on.
"If I want?" He smiled, "There is nothing I'd want more than to get lost in that lovely little neck of yours again."
Even though they were outside, the air suddenly felt warm and thick.
"Where would be best?" She began to look around for her bedroll, which still lay folded away.
"How about this time we take this a somewhere a tad less public? I don't fancy an unexpected audience" He gestured his head towards his tent, it's flap open, and the candle lit within giving it an extremely welcoming appearance for what was a - vampire lair. "Plus, I can show you all the luxuries of inside living."
"What about the watch?" She asked, looking out again to the treeline.
"I think Gale's ward spells will hold for the time being, don't you?" He stood up from the log, unfolding his height before her. He extended a hand down to help her up. "Come with me."
His tent wasn't what she had expected, but then she didn't know what she had expected. The vampire nests she had raided in her youth had been grim and repulsive, but Astarion's tent smelt intoxicatingly like him. That heady smell that maddened her before. He had somehow sourced several comfortable floor cushions along the floor. A flicking candle illuminated the canvas. A large ornate mirror sat propped against a crate.
"Expecting more corpses and piles of viscera?" He asked, coming to sit on the floor, beckoning her to follow suit.
"I was expecting less mirrors, truth be told" She sat cross-legged Infront of him. Now with the tent flap closed, she felt cut off from the rest of the world. The camp and the outside world momentarily no longer in existence. Just the two of them, the contents of this tent, and a feeling of excitement. "What's the use of it?"
"Well, it's not petty vanity, is it?" He flicked his hair back in a flashy gesture, but Fen noted that none of his curls were out of place. She wondered how he managed to look so put together - and well beautiful - without a reflection to work with.
"But of course I miss it. I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."
She couldn't help but wonder what colour they had been before.
His eyes were feline in shape and distinctly fey, much like her own. But their crimson depths would reflect the light in a way that she knew should make her unsteady. Red eyes were a mark of danger. However, she couldn't help but admire the way they would reflect the candlelight.
"What colour were they? Before?" She asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"I-I don't remember." His eyebrows pinched again, appearing surprised at the question.
She supposed they must have been grey or blue, the colour most associated with the Teu-tel-quessir, but she couldn't help but feel sad at what of his had been lost to time.
"What do you see? When you look at me?"
She struggled to take a full breath in as she gazed upon his face. He was magnificent. A straight nose, high cheekbones and eyes that could slice right through her. You didn't have to spend decades in the desert to appreciate a beauty like his.
"Piercing eyes…dangerous smile… You're beautiful…" She started, feeling a blush come on. The corner of his mouth started to twitch upwards, and she derailed that thought. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of her flattery.
"But you know that you're beautiful. You don't need me to tell you that." She finished, consciously pulling herself back a fraction. She hadn't realised how much she was starting to lean forward.
"Oh of course I do" he said, "But it's still nicer to hear you say it. Feel free to call me pretty whenever you like, Darling. Sounds lovely coming from your lips."
Suddenly, Fen remembered why she had come to his tent in the first place: dinner.
"Flattery aside - where would be best for me to sit? Lie down again?" As comfortable as his bedroll looked, she dreaded the thought. She wasn't sure she would be able to control herself if he were to lie over her again.
Who was this Fen? Shy with desire over the attention of a man. She almost felt normal. Like any woman would alone with Astarion.
"How about we change it up? I doubt I'd be able to control myself after those pretty little words of yours." He shifted to sit Infront of the mirror, his legs wide. It was odd seeing the tent reflected back to her his image noticeably missing.
"Sit here" he said quietly, patting the space between his legs once. "I want to see your face."
That warmth in the pit of her abdomen reared its head as she settled herself between his thighs. Muscular and lean, she couldn't help but appreciate how he felt pressed against her back. She pressed her legs together in response.
A shiver ripped through her as she felt his hands come rest gently on her shoulders. Although noticeably colder than her own feverish body temperature, it wasn't unpleasant.
She braced herself for the icy bite which would certainly follow but was shocked when she felt soft lips at the column of her neck, just above her jugular. She felt her pulse accelerate in response.
"What - What are you doing?" She managed to ask as soft kisses were planted gently on her neck. His hand slid down and across her waist, holding her to him.
When he spoke, he did so into her skin. "Don't pretend. I thought we promised to be honest with each other.
Another kiss. Another shudder she desperately tried to hide.
"I'm two hundred years old. I know how I effect people." His other hand trailed down her torso, coming to rest on her knee. She silently willed it to travel upwards. To give her any relief.
"I know how I effect you."
"And how's that?"
"Well, when I was getting lost in your neck..." he punctuated by pressing his teeth gently but not enough to break skin. "I could feel your little leg shakes. I could feel you shaking with excitement."
The hand on her knee started to rub gently against her leggings.
"I could taste it" The next kiss he laid on her neck was followed by dart of his tongue. Here she was, a meal sitting right in his lap.
"You touched yourself didn't you." She tried to twist against his arms to cower from her shame. She dreaded to think that he had been privy to her blasphemous activities. His hands only served to hold her in her place. She longed to see his face, to try and read any hint of an expression he might have, but all she could see was her own in the mirror. And the blush that was descending rapidly down her cheeks.
"You don't have to pretend. I could hear your little pants and moans." His lips travelled up to graze the lobe of her ear which he drew carefully into his mouth. She whined in response. "You can enjoy it. I enjoy it."
"I wonder what you taste like when you come." He whispered gentle into her ear. "I think we should find out."
The hand on her knee, how parted them, displaying her before him in the mirror. "You talk so much" she moaned, surprised with how compliant she was being.
His hand dragged up the inside of her thigh, fiendishly slowly, never reaching that spot she so desperately wanted him. Her hips bucked forward in response, but the hand around her waist countered by bringing her further backwards into him. A small noise left her as she felt the hardness press against her lower back.
"Touch yourself."
She didn't need to be told twice.
With one hand gripping his thigh, she slid her other into the waistband of her leggings. She leant back further into him as she found that aching spot at the apex of her thighs. Her slick underwear was easy to push aside.
"I am enjoying this little show" He came to rest his chin on her shoulder. If he was watching, she wouldn't have been able to tell. She could only see herself in the mirror.
"Look how beautiful you look."
And the visual before her surprised her.
Fen had never seen herself as a sexual being. As a young woman she had only been called beautiful a handful of times. Mostly by fellow novices and mostly whilst they were desperately f*cking her. But she had never felt beautiful.
Then of course her body had been taken from her in Manshaka - in every respect it could. As a druid. As a person. As a woman.
She had forgotten herself. She had forgotten the feminine being she was. It was a shame it took the sensual words of a man to remind her.
"Can you hurry up and bite me." She panted, that coil in her pelvis threatening to spring loose.
"It would be my pleasure" He smiled into her neck before his fangs breached her sun-kissed skin.
That feeling of pleasant numbness descended across her again. The coldness of his bite spreading until it reached the warmth of her sex. The meeting of the two causes stars to flash before her eyes. Her head flew backwards to rest against his shoulder as he continued to suckle against her skin.
Her fingers continued their dance across her sensitive bud, and she groaned grinding herself against her own hand. Invertedly, she bought her hips backwards against him, drawing out his own grunt against her throat. In response he thrust forward against her, rhythmically in time with his swallows.
The org*sm that she built within, washed over her like the crashing tide. Her legs shook under his hand.
"Astarion-" She tried desperately to not call out as to not alert the others, whining gently instead.
His feeding slowed down as she rode out her climax.
Once the ringing in her eyes subsided, she realised how loudly he was panting against her.
She crashed back against him as he pulled away from her neck. His arms now coming to stabilise her against his chest. Strong forearms she had admired so closely before.
The blood had clearly been enough to shut him up. The only noises in the tent were the pair's shallow breathing and the thundering of her heart.
She left his tent shortly after. He had made a snarky remark about having a 'dinner and a show' once he had caught his breath. Fen had taken this as a sign to leave and return to her own bedroll which now felt considerably colder than usual.
Any sense of uncertainty in her mind would have to wait until morning, because tonight she would relish in the afterglow of her rediscovery.
Once again, she was proving her body was her own, and she could enjoy it with whoever she pleased.
Undead or not - Silvanus be damned.
