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Chapter Text

The kennels were cold and filthy, the floors covered in blood that had gotten sticky over the course of the day, clinging to Astarion’s trousers unpleasantly.

He didn’t know how long it had been exactly since the skin had been stripped from his back, arms and calves, but the state of the blood drying gave him some idea.

It had been a day, give or take.

He wondered if, come nightfall, Cazador would come for him and keep peeling back his skin, or rather dig deeper into muscle, fat and bone. Maybe he’d release him, but Astarion didn’t expect him to, not quite yet.

The rattle of brittle bone shook him from his uneasy, tenuous trance.

„Squirm! Im not rocking you to sleep, stupid dog!“ Godey twisted the knife he had embedded in Astarion’s ankle, jerking him awake. „I want you to feel all of this.“

Right. Godey had stayed to torment him when Cazador had grown tired of his screams.

The sadistic skeleton had broken both of his wrists with vicious joy, then moved on to his fingers. And then his feet. Astarion must have passed out at that point.

As the blade cruelly twisted against his joint, Astarion gave an involuntary full-body twitch which made the pain from his wounds flare up.

He screamed weakly, his strength having long gone.

„That’s right, wake up.“ Godey slapped him in the face. „And sing for me.“ With a snap of his wrist, he dislocated Astarion‘s foot and drove the knife into the ensuing gap.

Astarion cried out, his voice breaking into a sob. He tried crawling away, but his hands were chained above his head as he hung from the ceiling, barely low enough to kneel. But he was kneeling no more, instead dangling from the chain like a marionette, head lolling.

„Ah, there you are.“ Godey giggled. „Master will arrive soon. Maybe, maybe he’ll take your eyes. Ha! Wouldn’t that be marvelous? But we have some time yet. Where should I prod next?“ The knife was removed from his ruined ankle and pushed into his crotch without breaking the skin. For now.
„Oh, I know, Godey will take your fangs next, yes, yes, yes!“ He dropped the knife and went for the pliers, clicking them excitedly.

Astarion could barely raise his head to watch in terrified anticipation.

He hated this almost as much as getting his fingernails pulled. It hurt more in the moment, but was more bearable in the long run.

Until the teeth started growing back and aching. There was also the hunger that came with not being able to bite, but he got so little to eat anyway that this wouldn’t be an issue.

Astarion gasped as Godey‘s boney fingers dug into his cheeks and his head was lifted.

„Open up now!“, Godey sang cheerfully, then squeezed Astarion‘s jaws apart.

Astarion knew what came next, and frantically tried thinking about anything else. Anything. Aurelia used to read to him sometimes, long ago, when it had been just the two of them. A few years back, hadn’t he met someone who had been kind to him? A stranger he had met in the park, when he had been on his way home. If sunrise hadn’t come… maybe they could have spoken a bit more.

The pliers were jammed into his mouth, painfully knocking against the teeth, before twisting and opening around his fang. Godey was about to start with the left one this time. There was something new.

Godey chuckled as he began to pull, then he jerked back Astarion‘s head and ripped the fang out.

Astarion’s thoughts came crashing to a halt as the tender memory faded in the inferno of agony.

Blood gushed from the wound, filling Astarion’s mouth and choking out his scream.

Astarion’s vision went black for a few moments. When he came to, he saw his skeleton tormentor examining the fang with gleeful curiosity. Next, a dull throb replaced the initial sharp pain.

„The whole nerve came out“, Godey marvelled. „And the venom gland. Maybe you won’t be spitting so much after I’m done with you!“

Somehow, this reignited some spark of pride within Astarion, and he spat the blood that was still accumulating in Godey‘s face.

The skeleton made a noise of disgust and struck him in the face with the pliers tightly in his fist.

The punch cracked Astarion‘s jaw and knocked another tooth clean out.

Astarion sagged, choking on the blood. He was surprised he still had enough in him to spill. While he was still gasping for air, reeling from the shock of the pain, Godey seized him by the hair and forced him to look up.

„That’s 10 more lashes for your insolence“, he growled. „But first, let’s get that second fang. Hold still now.“

Astarion didn’t have a choice, nor the strength to fight as Godey pulled the second fang without ceremony.

The skeleton cackled as it examined the large, sharp tooth, then nudged Astarion in the face. „Stay awake, now. This is far from over, wretch.“

When Astarion’s head lolled, blood and sticky saliva dripping from his ruined mouth, Godey hit him with the pliers again, ripping another wound into his scalp, just above the ear.

The gash hurt like hells, but Astarion was barely awake. The pain was numbed, although he could still feel the damage that had been done to him. He could feel it like he was an observer taking stock of these various injuries, and all he concluded was that this was very bad.

Astarion barely remembered what he was being punished for. Not that it mattered. It never changed anything if he thought he deserved it.

Last time, he had been flayed for bringing back someone too petite, a young woman. Apparently Cazador hadn’t been satisfied with the amount of blood he could suck from her body. This time… Astarion thought he remembered leaving a smudge somewhere. He must habe gotten too defensive or snappy about it.

Oh well, it didn’t matter now. All that was left for him was to endure.

At some point, Godey took his face into a boney hand, squishing his cheeks, hissing and snarling at him, but Astarion didn’t understand the words. He wished he’d pass out.

Suddenly there was a scuffle.

Godey released Astarion and screamed something, then he stumbled into Astarion, colliding with him roughly, before falling to the grimy floor, and scattering into loose bones.

Astarion blinked, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

There were hands on him, soft and bare. Hard and ironclad. They patted his face, examined his wounds, and finally freed his wrists and laid him to the floor.

Someone supported his head and forced him to down a healing potion.

Astarion groaned when some of his broken bones set themselves straight. His hearing cleared, and with a sudden rush he was plunged into a storm of voices yelling orders, cooing and shushing him, cursing… Astarion gasped as he was lifted by two men, and placed on a stretcher.

„You’re gonna be alright. Just stay with me.“ It was a young man, handsome and dark skinned with a dazzling smile. „We‘ll get you out of here.“

Astarion‘s stomach lurched as the stretcher was lifted.

What was happening? Who where they, and where were they taking him?

His broken fingers helplessly grasped around the edges of the stretcher, but he couldn’t sit up, let alone fight his way off and back to his master where he was supposed to go in case of an attack, which this undoubtedly was.

„I have to…“ His voice was barely audible, and with his canines and a few molars missing, it was hard to even form words.

„You have to rest and heal“, the man beside him said, patting his arm. „Don’t worry, we’ll find the vampire and put an end to him.“

Astarion began to squirm, trying to gather enough strength to climb off the stretcher and return to his master. Cazador would be furious to see him stolen straight out of the kennels before his punishment was done.

„Wyll, he’s… fuck, help me hold him!“, one of the men carrying the stretcher cursed.

The young dark skinned one, Wyll, apparently, firmly grasped Astarion’s wrists. „We’re trying to help, please stop.“

In his condition, Astarion was no match for Wyll, who gently wrestled him down so his wrists and ankles could be bound to the stretcher.

Astarion sobbed, still unable to grasp what was even happening to him. He did understand that struggling wouldn’t help him now, and so he let his body go still, eyes closed.

Before he knew it, his mind slipped into gentle darkness.

He wasn’t allowed this peace for long.

A sudden weight crashed down on the center of his chest, once, twice, and again.

Astarion‘s eyes flew open as he sputtered awake, trying to defend himself.
 His hands and feet were still tied, so he could only swat at Wyll, who was bent over him, trying to… revive him.

Gods below, Astarion must have stopped breathing in his trance. How unfortunate for him that his practiced camouflage didn’t extend to his automatic reflexes as he slept.

Wyll stopped crushing Astarion’s chest and bent an ear over his face, checking his breathing. As if Astarion’s glower wasn’t enough to determine that he very much wasn’t dead.

„Thank the gods, I thought we lost you there.“ Again, Wyll patted his cheek, and Astarion wanted to bite his hand, sick of being touched. „Stay with me, alright? Deep breaths. There is a healer, but you’ll have to stay awake until we get there, yes?“

Astarion nodded numbly.

Squeezing his hand, Wyll smiled reassuringly at him, then told the carriers to pick the stretcher back up and keep moving.

Astarion might have felt something but dread, maybe even warmth, if he hadn’t known it was only a matter of time before they uncovered his nature.

At least it hadn’t happened the moment they had taken him outside, because night had thankfully fallen already. So Astarion didn’t immediately burn to his final death. That was something at least.

Astarion didn’t know where they took him.

Familiar streets and house fronts passed by in a hazy blur, until he heard doors slam shut, and the stretcher was lowered.

Astarion blinked, trying to escape the dizziness.

„He needs healing, quickly.“ Wyll hurried a strange man over. A cleric. Wonderful.
Astarion groaned, still barely able to move, even if he wasn’t tied down.

The cleric knelt down next to Astarion and grew pale. „Lethander have mercy… I… Wyll, I have no magic left. Dimon was in such bad shape, and I…“

„Damn it all!“ Wyll cursed. „A potion then. It won’t be enough, but it’ll get you away from death‘s door.“ He grabbed a large round bottle from a shelf.

Astarion wheezed when Wyll propped him up and set the bottle to his lips.

„Sorry“, Wyll said. „Come, drink.“

Knowing the potion would help somewhat, but cause him stomach cramps and nausea, Astarion opened his mouth.

Once they learned he wasn’t just some poor citizen tormented inside a vampire coven, but rather part of said coven… they’d drive a stake through his heart and it would be all over for him.
He needed to play the part of rescued damsel until he was strong enough to slip away.

So he choked down the potion, groaning as it begrudgingly worked to knit his undead flesh back together, stinging like acid in his stomach.

Before he got to feel the relief of his wounds being closed, his body convulsed trying to expel the unwanted liquid. He heaved, gritting his teeth and trying to keep the concoction down.

Wyll was holding him down by the shoulders.

„Slowly, slowly… you’re alright. See? All better.“ He patted Astarion‘s clenched hand. „By the gods we need to warm you up. You’re ice cold!“

Astarion didn’t protest as they hoisted him closer to the fire.

„Let’s bandage those wounds for now. Not bleeding as badly as I thought, huh. Guess the potion did more work than I thought.“ He wrapped a clean cloth around Astarion’s arms where the skin was still missing. „There, that’s better“, Wyll said as he covered him with a blanket. „Will you be okay? There will be healing tomorrow, just gotta make it through the night.“

Astarion struggled to smile at him. „Just… delightful, darling.“

„Just keep breathing for me“, said Wyll with a warm smile. „Ill be back to check on you.“

The cleric was called away to help another injured hunter.

Astarion looked up at Wyll. In another life, he might have fallen for this handsome and kind prince. „Not going anywhere“, Astarion croaked, nausea still making his stomach clench. He forced a smile.

„Good man.“ Wyll got up and left to help the other injured.

Finally left to himself, Astarion sighed and allowed himself to stop breathing. The movement made his broken ribs ache all the worse.

In the quietness of his still body, Astarion took a moment to order his thoughts. It was still night. He could make a run for it and be back in the castle before Cazador ever knew he was gone.

That was if he could walk.

Astarion peeked towards the door. It was opened, but just a crack. He could hear the commotion just outside, dozens of people hurrying about to help the injured. Cazador and the other spawn must have at least left a number on the hunters.

But that many people just outside this room meant Astarion had to use the window. And that would likely take all the strength he had left.

But compulsion demanded he returned to his master as fast as possible.

Astarion bit back a groan as he rolled over unto his belly and dragged his broken legs under him. He shook and trembled, swaying and almost collapsing back down like a house of cards.

But he managed to crawl to the window, pull himself up, and (like a worm) wiggle his way out.

He landed heavily on his side on the cold hard street. It had been raining, so he got his hair and shirt muddy. For one ludicrous second, he thought about how Cazador would be angry with him for getting dirty.

Astarion wheezed a laugh, a sob, a curse, he didn’t know the difference anymore.
He got to his hands and knees and crawled forward.

Eventually he found the strength to rise to his feet, though he was stumbling on unsteady legs, nearly falling.

Despite his blurry vision, Astarion‘s feet found the way back to the palace by instinct.

He staggered up the stairs, barely able to keep upright, and almost collapsed against the door.
Clinging to the door handle, Astarion pushed inside, finally crumbling to his knees as soon as the door fell closed.

The entrance hall was ruined, dead servants scattered everywhere beneath broken furniture.

Astarion looked around and saw the pale corpse of Duffay in a corner, a wooden stake firmly planted in his chest. Funny. He wasn’t even a spawn.

Shuddering, Astarion looked around. Where was everyone else? Where was Cazador?

Astarion knew he’d feel it if his master was dead. Had the vampire lord abandoned his mansion and spawn?
That seemed just like him, but what in the hells was Astarion to do now, hurting and with no place to go? It was only a matter of time until the hunters found out he wasn’t a victim, but their quarry. Going back there wasn’t a option.

And dawn was approaching.

Astarion dared not call out, even if he would have had the strength.

He could hide somewhere. Hope the hunters wouldn’t return and find him, but he knew that was unlikely.

But he didn’t know where else he’d be safe from the sunlight. As much as he hated the palace, it was the only home he knew.

So, Astarion rose to his feet, shuffling towards the main hall, arms wrapped tightly around his upper body, and began his search for his accursed family.

Chapter Text

„Master…?“ He croaked. His voice was hoarse, his throat hurt from screaming for so long.
Of course there was no answer.
Still, he was being compelled to return, so he decided to trust where his vampiric tether would guide him. Like a ghost, he shambled through the empty hallways, supporting his weight against the wall every so often.
There were no corpses here, though obviously the battle had carried further into the mansion than he had thought. Astarion limped into the ballroom, considering the smashed furniture for a moment. What had happened, and where had Cazador and his cursed siblings gone?
He scoffed. It figured they’d leave him in the kennels to die.
But he wasn’t dead yet. And he wouldn’t be left to bloody die!

Astarion stumbled over to the back of the throne and towards a small room, some kind of office? Had Cazador found refuge there?

„Master…?“ Astarion turned the doorknob. Locked. Or course. And of course this was where his instincts told him to go. Astarion fumbled for a hairpin in his pocket. You never knew when you’d need one, so he usually kept one on his person.
With shaky hands, he tried unlocking the door, grinding his teeth. The health potion enhanced the regrowth of his missing fangs, and it itched like the hells to have them grow back now.
Astarion hissed when his hand slipped and he had to bend down to pick the pin back up. „Fuck you, just… fucking let me in…“

He tried again, and failed.

Exhausted, Astarion sank to his knees, forehead pressed against the wooden door. From there, he tried again.
It must have taken him hours, but eventually the locking mechanism slid aside beneath the trembling ministrations of the hairpin, and Astarion opened the door.

The room was empty.

Astarion stared in disbelief at the desk and empty chair, the stuffy book shelves, the tacky carpet. The room was tiny and crammed.
There was no Cazador in sight.

Astarion stumbled over to the table. Maybe there was some clue here, something… anything. But all Astarion found were letters from nobles from all over the sword coast, some of the names he recognized as people ha had had to entertain before, and he sneered.
Furious, he swept the papers off the table and kicked the chair over, the force of it sending him stumbling backwards into a book shelf. Several of them clattered down around him as he sat on the floor, tired, angry and confused. Why the hells was he here? Where was everyone?

Astarion realized it was getting brighter. Dawn had come, though the heavy drapes kept the worst of the sunlight out of the room. All he suffered was an uncomfortable tickle where the dimmed light touched his skin.
Growling, Astarion pushed back up. Where was he supposed to go? He quickly emptied the entire book shelf, throwing the books across the room. He didn’t know what he was looking for, perhaps some hidden switch or false wall a child might imagine.
Of course there was nothing.

For good measure, Astarion knocked the shelf over as well, before collapsing in the wreckage of splintered wood and books.
Astarion shivered. Gods he was exhausted.
The hunger he was used to, but the torture and injury he had suffered just a few hours ago made it difficult to even think clearly.
Perhaps, if he just waited here, Cazador would come for him. Gods knew he never gave Astarion much reprieve for any amount of time. And this was the closest Astarion could get to his master without tearing down the walls. He had done everything he could to return to him as his compulsion dictated. And now, he was beginning to drift off, regenerative trance nipping at the rapidly fraying edges of his awareness.
Astarion tucked his legs close to his chest, resting his bruised chin on his knees, and wrapping his arms around his legs.
If he gave in to the trance, at least he could remain somewhat aware of his surroundings. Not that he thought he could put up any sort of fight if he heard someone approach. At least he’d get to look at them as they staked him.

The sound of heavy footsteps tore him from the twisted memory-nightmares that drowned his subconscious whenever he tranced. His head jerked up, and he fell over onto his side. He needed a moment to collect himself and realize where he was, and what he was doing here.
He got up with some difficulty and clambered over the pile of books and shelf to the door. The footsteps had come closer, and there were many. Astarion pressed himself to the wall next to the door, listening „Swarm out, and be careful. They probably prepared for us to come back and finish the job“

„Don’t worry, they won’t get away this time.“ That was Wyll‘s voice.

Shit. So the hunters were coming back to finish off the vampire nest. Astarion lunged for the door handle and tried to slam it shut, to lock himself in, but it was jammed by the debris Astarion had scattered throughout the room.

Astarion cursed, flinching when a heavy bang indicated the hunters had breached the ball room. He kicked at the shelf, scrambling to get it out of the way.

„Hey!“ Someone called. „You! Come out with your hands up!“

Astarion slipped and fell, then hauled the heavy shelf aside.

„Don’t move!“, the man shouted, aiming a crossbow.

Astarion got up and tried slamming the door shut, but a crossbow bolt hit him in the shoulder, nearly knocking him back down.
He cried out, his knees giving in. His arm hung limply to the ground.

„Don’t fucking move!“ The man reloaded his crossbow.

Astarion raised his head and saw more of the hunters swarm into the ballroom. Among them was Wyll. The young man stared with his eyes wide, clearly recognizing him.
But Astarion saw the way he reached for his rapier and charged forward. He must have counted one and one together and identified him as an enemy.

Still kneeling, Astarion reached for the door and pushed it closed. A second crossbow bolt hit him in the ribs, and Astarion screamed, but still closed the door and turned the key. Then he leaned his back to the door and closed his hand around the bolt stuck in his arm. He lacked the strength to remove it, perhaps the willpower as well.

Something heavy banged into the door from the other side, jostling Astarion forward.
„Open up! Open the door!“

Astarion stayed put, breathing hard.

The doorknob turned, but the door was locked. „Open the door!“ That was Wyll. „Look, I don’t know if you’re a servant, or a spawn, or if you’re just compelled, but we are going to get in eventually. Just save us all the trouble.“

Astarion didn’t answer.

„Alright.“ There was a thump as Wyll patted the door with the palm of his hand. „The hard way, then. Sir Landon, we‘ll get that bench and break the door. Come, help me.“

Astarion heard them depart, but not far. There had to be about half a dozen hunters just outside the door.
There was nowhere he could run from here.
Except…

Astarion eyed the heavy drapes covering the window. Opening it would grant him a quick death, only… well he didn’t know how quick burning by the sun would actually be. Once or twice he had had to run back to the palace in the early morning at dawn. The sunlight had bitten his skin and turned it to ash, and it had been agony. Astarion wasn’t keen on experiencing it again, nor on turning into a pile of ash. Perhaps a stake would be the faster option. Decapitation? Even better.

Astarion had the urge to pace, but the fresh injuries wouldn’t allow for it.
A yelp escaped him when something heavy crashed into the door, jostling him forward with a sudden, violent lurch.
He screamed when the crossbow bolt lodged itself deeper into his side, then leaned back against the door as if to strengthen it against the siege.

„Again!“, someone yelled outside.

Astarion braced, terror rising in his throat like bile. He didn’t want to die in here, after 200 years of shit and struggle. He had long accepted that he’d wait for any sort of just reward in vain, but for him to meet his end like this… it just wasn’t fair.
Astarion sobbed. „Gods…“

The next crash nearly broke the door, he could hear the massive wood cracking in places.
„Gods…! Help!“ Astarion tried covering his ears, gritting his teeth against the pain when his injured arm protested.

„If it’s help you want, perhaps I can suffice, little vampling.“

Astarion nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice, which, alarmingly came from inside the tiny room. From right in front of him.

He looked up in utter shock, and saw a handsome aristocratic looking man standing over him.
The man seemed perfectly calm, hands clasped behind his back, doublet impeccable and clean, an easy smile on his tan face.

Astarion opened his mouth, then closed it again. He had several questions, but he didn’t know which to ask first.
Then the attackers hit the door again, and Astarion yelped at the impact.

„Oh my“, said the man. „It looks like they’ll break the old thing. Won’t take much more. Do you think they’ll stake you right away, or torture you for information first? Ah, but you could just go for the window, couldn’t you? Might be faster, but it won’t be pretty.“ He smiled down at Astarion. „Or, you could come with me.“

„…who are you…?“ Astarion pressed back against the door, feeling splinters dig into his back.

The man‘s smile grew wider. „Not one of the gods, my dear mouse. But does it truly matter?“ He offered a hand as if to help Astarion up.

Astarion heard the hunters prepare their next charge at the door, one that would finally break it for certain. He looked at the man‘s hand, then quickly decided that who- or whatever he was, and why and how he wanted to help… it couldn’t be worse than what the hunters had in store for him.

Astarion took the man’s hand.
It was very warm.

The stranger smiled at him, showing impeccable white teeth, then snapped the fingers of his free hand. It was the exact same moment the hunters crashed into the door for the final time, shattering the wood.

Everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Astarion woke up somewhere warm and comfortable. He wasn’t hurting anymore, but the exhaustion remained. Had he been healed? What had happened…?
Swaying, Astarion sat up, rubbing his eyes. He felt like he had woken up from a nightmare. It had been a very long time since he had been this comfortable.
Quickly, he took stock of his condition. His wounds were healed, no mark left of the torture and crossbow bolts. His missing teeth had grown back, broken bones were set.
He yawned, then looked around blearily.

He was alone in a spacey room. There were no windows, but the furniture made it seem rather ostentatious either way: There was a tidy desk with a cushioned decorated chair, several beautifully carved bookshelves, a wardrobe filled with outfits, one more splendid than the last. The floor was tiled with shiny black marble, polished to a sleek glint.

It was warm. There was a scent of spice, cinnamon and smoke, but also something unpleasant which he couldn’t place.
Astarion examined the large bed, felt the silken sheets. It was luxurious.
He stood up on wobbly legs, feeling like a fawn. Then he went over to the door, but kept to the walls. Out in the middle of the room, he found that he felt too exposed.
When he reached for the door, a voice sounded, making him jump.
„Ah you’re awake. Splendid. Please remain in your room, I will be with you shortly.“

Astarion had frozen, and waited a moment to see if there was more. When the room stayed silent, he tried opening the door, only to find that he wasn’t actually locked in. Surprised, he looked outside into a beautiful hallway, lit by candles in beautifully crafted chandeliers.
Hesitantly he inched to the exit and peeked his head out to see down the hall. It was empty, but decorated spectacularly.
Astarion‘s eye was caught by a giant painting of a devil dressed in a rich blue suit, red wings spread.

Astarion looked around once more, then finally stepped out to get a better look.
The painting was beautifully done, the colors vibrant, each brushstroke placed just so. The devil was handsome and terrible, depicted with a winning smile and a glint in his golden eyes.
It was a work of art, probably worth a fortune. But even so: Who in the hells would hang a painting of a devil in his home?

„And here I was thinking I told you to remain in your room.“

Astarion jumped and whipped around, and found himself face to face with the very same devil from the painting. The spitting image, in fact. Even the suit was the same.

Only, the real devil wasn’t smiling.

„F…“ Astarion wanted to curse, but instead said: „Forgive me…! I just…! I uh…“ He stumbled backwards towards the room he had woken up in, the devil following him with measured steps.

„At least now I know better than to trust your sense of reason“, the devil continued, quickly herding him back into his room. „Rest assured, this isn’t a mistake I‘ll make again.“ Calmly he locked the door from the inside and pocketed the key.

Astarion swallowed and considered apologizing again, or justifying himself, but instead he just asked: „Who are you? Why… why am I here?“

The devil chuckled. „You don’t recognize me? I‘m hurt. I thought I made quite the entrance when I saved your life just yesterday.“

Ah. On second thought, the devil‘s face did seem somewhat familiar. „I‘m afraid I was a bit out of sorts“, Astarion admitted meekly.

The devil, meanwhile, had taken the only available seat by the desk, crossed one leg over the other, and folded his hands in his lap. He looked amused and expectant.

Hastily, Astarion said: „Thank you! By the way… I, uh… truly am grateful.“

The devil‘s grin widened. „Your gratitude and thanks are appreciated, of course. But I‘m afraid I require something more in return for your rescue“ He snapped his fingers, and a document appeared in the air above his hand.

Astarion froze where he stood, cold sweat breaking out all over his body. Did he really unknowingly sign his soul away to the damn hells? Fuck, he just couldn’t catch a break.
„My… my soul?“, he squealed, hating how pitiful he sounded.

„Goodness, no. No offense, but your soul isn’t yours to sign away. And even if it was, a vampire spawn is worth nothing in Baator.“

Astarion should have felt hurt by this assessment, but all he felt was relief. „So… then what? Surely you rescued me for a reason? And how smart you were, to do that. I happen to be able to provide quite a number of services any devil might enjoy“, he tried for a confident sales pitch, and he thought he succeeded rather well.

Only the devil didn’t seem to believe so. „I am not any devil.“ He pursed his lips, golden eyes wandering up and down Astarion‘s body. „Though I suppose you are a very pretty thing, little vampling.“ He summoned a feather into his hand and added something to the writing on the contract. „Before we go further, I believe proper introductions are in order. I am Raphael, Master of the house of hope.“

„A… Astarion.“

„Well met, Astarion.“ The devil’s voice was dripping ridicule. „To business, then. I was generous enough to save your life upfront, but should I not find you cooperative, I shall drop you right back into the clutches of these hunters. Are we clear?“

Astarion swallowed. „Crystal.“

„Good. Now, then. I wish to keep you as my thief, assassin, and pet. You‘ll obey my every order or face punishment. Understood?“

Astarion begrudgingly nodded, then cocked his head at the devil as a question sprung to the tip of his tongue. „Wait. What do you define as punishment?“ Astarion had quirked up. Half forgotten memories suddenly resurfaced like bubbles in a dark pond.

Raphael had frozen in the midst of reading, only his golden eyes flicked over to him. „Excuse me?“

„Your definition of torture. I need to know what I‘m risking, darling.“

The devil looked incredulous, then he grinned. „Tell me, have you had a career in law, Astarion?“

„I… Honestly I don’t entirely remember. Maybe. Possibly.“

„Hm. I might make use of that.“

„So… what about punishment?“

„Back to the point I see. I can give you a full list if you wish, but it includes inflicting injury using cutting, crushing, breaking, stabbing…“

„Fuck, forget I asked.“ Astarion sagged. „Can I add an addendum?“

„An addendum!“ Raphael laughed. „Oh, you are delightful. I might just humor you, little mouse. I shall allow… three.“

„Three.“ Astarion echoed bluntly. „Well, how many terms do you have?“

„379“

„Well that hardly seems fair!“

„Oh? I can always return you to those hunters, Astarion. Or how about the Gur? I believe they’ve been trying to get their hands on you for quite some time, darling.“ He purred that last word, baring his teeth as he did so.

Very quickly Astarion decided he was not going to think about how Raphael could know about the Gur. And what else he might know about him. „…fine then.“ He swallowed, his mouth dry. „My addendums are… no permanent injuries or scarring.“

„Denied. I might want to mark you as my own. I won’t agree to being forbidden from branding my lambs.“ He said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that Astarion began to feel a lot like running, but he caught himself and corrected his suggestion:

„While punishing me… no lasting marks of any kind. You may inflict no injury that won’t heal by means of magic or the passage of time.“

Raphael considered this, then nodded. „Very well.“

„Second… I… Don’t starve me. I want to be fed at least once a week.“

Raphael lowered the paper and looked at him, amusement fading from his features. „I shall provide blood to you daily. You needn’t make it an addendum.“

Astarion stared. „What?“

„Feeding of one serving of fresh blood, every 24 hours“, Raphael quoted directly from the paper. „Withholding of daily feedings as punishment is permitted for a maximum of one month.“

Astarion was dumbfounded by the utter generosity of the term. „Then… instead can I add… I don’t want to be confined in a coffin or somesuch. Not for any period of time.“

Raphael looked at him, expressionless.
„You‘ll need to define that a bit more clearly, but I‘ll add it.“

Astarion fell quiet as he considered his last addendum. No permanent scarring or damage from punishments. No confinement in coffins. „Would it be too much to ask for days off?“

„I can grant you one a month.“

„One a tenday.“

Raphael smiled. „I do so enjoy haggling. But I‘m afraid I‘ll need you with me, or at least within my grasp. Let me add a caveat.“ He opened his hand and produced a golden amulet out of thin air. „One time a month, you get a day all to yourself, with this. It will allow you to walk in the sun without burning up. One day a month, 24 hours, at whichever location you choose.“

Astarion felt like he had been plunged underwater. His eyes were fixed on the amulet. For centuries he had longed for the sun, and known he could never enjoy its warmth again. He couldn’t believe the devil would just offer him this, as a kindness he hadn’t even asked for.

„Tick tock, little vampling.“

Astarion nodded eagerly, snapping out of his stupor. „Yes. I suppose that’s fair.“

„Splendid. That’s all the addendums, then.“

„And what do you want of me, exactly?“

„Everything“, Raphael chuckled. „You‘ll be mine in body, mind and soul, whatever is left of it. You‘ll complete jobs and missions for me, and you’ll entertain me as well as my guests and associates, if I ask it. In return, I‘ll keep you safe in this house of hope. In short: You’ll do as I say.“

„I can stay? What about my master?“

„You don’t really think I couldn’t handle one pesky vampire lord, do you?“

„I‘m still… he could find me, and…“

„I take care of my things“, Raphael replied. „Even if your old master would go to the hells to reclaim you, rest assured that I’ll handle him. I‘ll keep you, even if you prove little more than a pretty bauble. I so like collecting pretty things.“

While Astarion didn’t appreciate being called a „thing“, he had to admit staying here seemed a better deal than being with Cazador. „Do I… get to roam? Or am I to stay here unless you need me?“

„You’ll stay here for now. Though I might grant you free passage, or choose to keep you in my rooms.“ Raphael leaned back in his chair, looking over the contract. „Now, for the rules you don’t break, not unless you want me to deliver you back to where I found you: Don’t attempt to flee from my house or your obligations. If I let you off the leash, I expect you to return in due time and of your own accord. No talking to my guests, unless I permit it.“

Astarion waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, he asked: „That’s all?“

„That’s all. We just need you to sign your name, and we’ll have a deal. You’ll be mine, forever, safe in my house of hope.“

„Aren’t there… definitions of which services I am obliged to provide?“

„No. You will provide whichever service I require of you.“

„What about a… limit? A… time limit?“

„No such thing.“

Astarion hesitated. „But you said you had 379 terms?“

„Do you wish for me to read them all out to you?“ Raphael rolled his eyes. „I just said this contract will make you mine. These 379 terms spell out which services I might ask of you. So, if you wish to ask if one is among them, you can be almost certain that it is.“

„Do… ugh…! Fine. I better not ask.“ Astarion dug his fingers into the fabric of his fraying sleeves.

„If you wish to instead return to the wreckage of your enslavement under Lord Cazador Szarr, or, since he abandoned you, straight back to the hunters, you need only say so.“ He wiggled his fingers. „One snap, and you’ll be right where I saved your pitiful life.“

„No, don’t…!“ Astarion hated how desperate and hopeless he sounded. „I accept! Just… don’t send me back there.“ He approached the devil by the table cautiously, wringing his hands. „How do I sign?“

Raphael raised a clawed hand and reached for his wrist.

Astarion complied as the devil dragged him closer, then he hissed when those sharp talons pierced his finger. He shrank back by instinct, but Raphael held him close.

„Just a drop right here.“ He held Astarion’s hand over the parchment, but there was no blood dripping onto the page.

Astarion had lost almost every last drop, barely left with enough to function.
Raphael looked puzzled, golden eyes flicking from the torn finger to Astarion’s face.

„So that’s why you’re shaking like a fawn“, he released Astarion. „I suppose you’ll need feeding first, if you are to bleed for me, yes?“

Astarion nodded. „And rest“, he added meekly. „If… if I could just sign, Id do it right now, I swear…!“

„It will need to be blood, vampling. But fear not: We have all of eternity, so there’s no need to rush.“ He summoned a goblet out of thin air, handing it to Astarion. „Drink up.“

Astarion had snatched the goblet and drank it down before he had realized what was happening. The blood was sweet and rich, and still warm. Better than any Astarion had ever had the fortune of tasting. He drank and drank, and somehow there was still more.
Distantly he heard Raphael say something, but he couldn’t understand over the rush in his ears.
Only when his large hand closed around his arm, forcefully lowering the goblet, Astarion realized the vessel was refilling. In his frenzy he had made a mess too, spilling blood all over his cheeks, neck and shirt. He had also collapsed onto his knees and was sitting on the polished floor like a child.
Somewhat embarrassed, he licked his lips, wiped his mouth, and swallowed. He was salivating excessively, fangs aching and extended. He wanted more. He wanted to drink and finally fill that void Cazador had burrowed into him and left painfully empty for centuries.

Raphael looked down at him sternly, but also amused. „Slowly. You’re making a mess.“

Astarion swallowed, looking up at the devil with wide eyes.

„Do go on“, Raphael finally said with an indulgent smile.

Astarion only thought for a moment how debasing this was supposed to feel, surely. But the devil offered him more blood than he had ever had. He was too starved to care about what he looked like, though he did slow down and made an effort not to soil his face and shirt any further.

Raphael watched with gleaming eyes, much like someone might watch a stray cat indulge in a bowl of cream. He was smiling, his tail swaying in a gentle rhythm, chin resting in his palm.

Astarion‘s mind slowly stopped spinning. For the first time since he could remember, Astarion’s mind went quiet, and he felt calm, good, capable… he felt a sense of happiness wash over him. The simple happiness of nourishing oneself. Indulging oneself.
Astarion drank and drank until his mind was silent, the eternal guttural howling scream of a starving monster finally dying down. He kept drinking until he couldn’t anymore.
Astarion lowered the goblet and gulped down a deep breath. He felt woozy and comfortable, swaying where he knelt.

Breathing hard he looked up at Raphael, and said: „Thank you.“ He didn’t think he had ever meant anything like he meant this.

„Good boy“, said Raphael. „Now, if you‘d follow me. You need to get cleaned up, and then rest. I‘ll delay the signing until tomorrow.“

Astarion rose to his feet, still feeling dizzy in the best way.
Raphael took his arm and led him outside, one hand at the small of his back. It was entirely unnecessary of course, Astarion would have gone anywhere Raphael told him to.
The devil adjusted his direction a few times using gentle nudges, before taking him into a beautiful boudoir with an in-ground pool.
The water was fragrant and steamed slightly.

„Get inside“, Raphael said. „Get clean.“ He sat in a large thronelike chair.

Astarion didn’t need persuasion. He wanted to get in that pool and wash the memory of Cazador off his skin.
He took off his clothes without ceremony, though he was aware of the devil’s piercing gaze.
On wobbly legs, Astarion waded into the water and heard himself moan as he submerged himself up to the neck. He never got to have hot baths. If being Raphael’s pet meant blood and hot baths, Astarion would be happy to do whatever he wanted and stay forever. Luxury quite agreed with him, he found.

„You seem comfortable“, Raphael commented.

Astarion made an effort to clean his face and chin, amazed to see the red and brown flakes of blood dissolve and vanish in the water. „This is more than… I didn’t expect anything like this in the hells“, he confessed.

„Baator is all about temptations“, Raphael explained idly. „Few can resist.“

„Well it seems I lived in a hell far worse than this for most of my life“, Astarion said, turning his back on the devil in search of a sponge. „Why shouldn’t I let temptation win? I never had a choice either way, did I?“

„Indeed“, Raphael said.

Astarion heard him approach and froze, unsure of what to expect if the fiend joined him in the bath.

But the devil stopped just outside the pool. „I shall have a closer inspection of this“, he muttered. „Your old master‘s work I assume?“

Knowing what he was talking about, Astarion offered a stiff nod.

„Hm. Shame to put a mark like this on something as pretty as you.“

Astarion forced a smile and turned halfway around. „You needn’t woo me, darling. I‘ll sign your contract as soon as I have blood to spill.“

„I know you will.“ Raphael was standing over him, a faint smile on his lips. „But I sense you’re a creature that needs to be cherished. But we will have a long time to get to know one another, won’t we, pet?“

Something about the glint in his eye made Astarion shudder. He had a feeling that displeasing Raphael would be just about as unpleasant as he had come to know with Cazador. But pleasing him? Astarion thought the devil would reward an obedient and pleasing pet.

So, he turned around, aware of how his body was visible beneath the surface of the pool. „Why wait? I‘m here right now, and we’ve got time, haven’t we?“

Raphael grinned. „Oh, aren’t you delightful. I appreciate the offer, little vampling. But unfortunately I am needed elsewhere.“ Astarion stared, uncertain how to handle the rejection. The devil went on: „Take your time bathing. Fresh clothing will be provided shortly. You can remain here until I have concluded my business.“

Struggling to catch himself, Astarion leaned back. „Well, your loss, darling.“

„No loss“, Raphael chuckled as he left. „You’re mine, mouse. We have all of eternity.“

After thoroughly enjoying the bath, Astarion dried himself off and put on the outfit a servant had laid out for him at some point. It was an exquisite red and black doublet, embroidered with golden birds along the chest and sleeves. Astarion knew quality when he saw it, and this was some of the most exquisite clothing he had ever gotten to wear.

He redid his curls, which was always easier after washing with hot water, then looked at the large double bed. It smelled of Raphael, so he supposedly slept here. Keeping Astarion here was a good sign, he assumed.
After pacing for a while, Astarion flopped down onto the bed, sleepy after the feeding and the hot bath.

At this point he didn’t even care whether Raphael wanted to join him or not, he just needed a good long trance.

Astarion closed his eyes and calmed his breathing, then slipped off into the shaded valleys of his long memory, where he hoped to find a good spot to recover after the last couple of days. The dark would flood him and pull him under soon enough, but hope was like a fickle lover. It would break the hearts of the naive, but grant joy and light until it did.
And so Astarion dreamt of the devil that had saved him. He dared not think about his future in his house of hope, not yet. For now, he nurtured that shy little spark that had flickered to life once more.
Until it was snuffed out, he would cherish it.

Chapter Text

Astarion woke up to the sound of a book being closed, followed by a sigh.
He scrambled upright and ended up kneeling in the tangled sheets thanks to having fallen asleep on his belly.
As he blearily rubbed his eyes, he recognized Raphael sitting at the desk just a few feet away. He had chosen his true devilish form once more, far bigger and more imposing than the human man who had rescued Astarion.

The devil looked over. „Good morning. I trust you had a good rest?“

Self-consciously, Astarion wiped his mouth and tried fixing his hair with the other hand. He must look a mess. „How long were you sitting there?“

„Just a few hours. You tranced longer than I thought elves needed.“ He turned in his chair and offered Astarion a goblet with fresh blood. „How about a toast before you sign?“

Astarion began to salivate immediately. „Breakfast in bed?“ He smiled as he accepted the goblet. „You spoil me.“

Raphael chuckled, summoning a goblet of his own to his now free hand. „To our partnership“, he said pompously. „May it greatly benefit us both.“

They clinked their goblets, and Astarion found he greatly liked being able to enjoy blood without being actually hungry.
„What kind of blood is this?“, he asked curiously after taking a few sips.

„What do you think?“, asked Raphael.

Astarion realized he didn’t remember drinking any blood that wasn’t rat or the occasional stray dog. „Well, it isn’t rat…“, he muttered.

Raphael’s mouth turned into a thin line. „You don’t seriously think I‘d bleed lesser creatures for sustenance, do you?“

Astarion straightened up on the bed. „No! Of course not, never! It’s just… I don’t have a whole lot to compare it to. I can tell you it’s… well, it’s exquisite.“

„It’s elf“, Raphael concluded. „Freshly bled in the dungeons. A pretty little thing, like you.“

Astarion stared into his goblet, unsure of how to feel about this new piece of information. His first emption was surprise, as he hadn’t thought he could drink blood such as this even this far from his master’s grasp.
Second was a twinge of unease as he understood the subtle threat in Raphael’s statement.
Third… maybe it was guilt or shame, but Astarion hadn’t had the luxury to feel these emotions for so long that he was unable to put a name to what he felt.
Then came indifference. What did he care if some unfortunate wretch displeased a devil and got themselves slaughtered as a result?
The blood was delicious. And didn’t Astarion finally deserve something delicious?

Raphael had idly watched his face shift through this confusing storm of emotions.

Astarion met his golden gaze. „It’s exquisite, as I said. I‘m grateful to have such a generous host.“ He raised the goblet and had another sip. The blood tasted just as good as before this little revelation. Astarion wondered if the blood came from a man or a woman and wondered if it made a difference in taste.

„Not just a host after you’ve signed“, Raphael smiled into his goblet. „Now, let’s get to it, shall we?“

He put a hand on the parchment on the table.
The contract.

Astarion swallowed. Now that he was somewhat in his right mind, the idea didn’t seem one of his best anymore. He’d be whatever Raphael wanted, an assassin and thief, a pet… probably a sex toy, maybe entertainment. In exchange, he’d be protected from his master, and got have one free day in the sun once a month.
It was a better deal that he got under Cazador, there was no doubt.
And yet, he hesitated.

Raphael’s eyes were fixed on him, a dangerous glint mingling with the gold. „You’re not having second thoughts, are you?“

Astarion’s mouth was dry, so he drank down the rest of the elf’s blood and stood up. „Of course not“, he lied. „I couldn’t hope to get a better deal than this. Would you offer me a claw, darling?“

Raphael took Astarion‘s wrist and pricked his finger, maintaining eye contact. Astarion tried not to flinch as the claw broke skin, but failed.

The devil smiled at this, then released him. Astarion needed to sign the contract of his own accord. Or course.
With a shaking arm, Astarion reached for the contract and pressed his bleeding index finger to the bottom line, leaving a red smudge.
The contract began to glow, then rolled itself up and vanished into thin air. Astarion blinked.
This was it?

Raphael’s large red hands closed around his waist and he was pulled into the devil’s lap. „Now, was that so bad?“, the devil cooed.

Suddenly Astarion was certain that the bad part was just about to begin.

„So tense“, Raphael tutted in his ear. „Why is that, my pet? Are you afraid?“

Astarion scrambled to regain his composure. „It’s the anticipation, darling“, he deflected, leaning into the devil. „What would you have me do for you first?“

„Hm, why don’t you just sit with me for a bit longer?“ Raphael muttered back, not missing a beat. His claws ran up Astarion‘s unprotected belly and chest. „I happen to enjoy the scent of your fear. Quite the fragrance, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re a good liar, though. It‘ll serve you well while in my service. But pet: I implore you to never lie to me.“

Astarion uselessly gasped for air when the claws traveled up to his neck. „That’s not in the contract“, he said, trying to keep his voice level.

„You’re right. I can’t deliver you back to your master if you choose to disobey. But I can punish you in other ways, at my discretion.“ His hand closed around the underside of Astarion’s jaw, claws tickling the corners of his eyes.

Frozen in shock, Astarion remained, stopped breathing, and frantically thought how to get out of this unfortunate situation. Just off the devil’s lap and put of his immediate grip would do for now.

Could he turn this around by offering himself up? Raphael would know he did it out of fear, but would that matter to him?
Slowly, Astarion melted into the devil, tilting his head back and exposing his throat to the claws hovering just above. His arm drew back, feeling around for Raphael’s face. He caressed his cheek and turned his head around so their eyes could meet.
„It seems I‘m at your mercy, devil“, Astarion purred. „Would you like to take what you’re owed for saving my life?“

„I am. But what are YOU doing?“ Raphael seemed bemused.

Astarion licked his lips, aware that his fangs were showing at this angle. „Whatever you want“, he replied. „And I have a feeling you want me.“

Growling, the devil tightened his grip. „I have you“, he said.

Astarion couldn’t help but tense up again. Get on with it, then, he wanted to snap. Get it over with!

But he didn’t want to anger his new master, least of all when he was still suspended in his grip, splayed out rather helplessly on his lap, held tight by claws long as knives. He tried thinking about the contract. Raphael wouldn’t inflict any lasting marks on him. As part of punishment. Fuck. He could do it whenever he chose, then. He could rip him to shreds right now.

„Did I… did I displease you?“ Astarion decided to give up this little game he had tried. Raphael was too unpredictable for him to handle this way. „Please, I…“

„You what?“ Raphael ran one claw along the underside of his jaw, the other hand closing tighter around his waist. „Why would you think I am displeased with you, pet?“

„I don’t know!“, Astarion squealed indignantly. „Just… fuck… just please don’t hurt me!“

Raphael chuckled. „You break faster than I expected. A shame. Am I hurting you?“

Not yet, Astarion wanted to shout, but instead he said: „No.“

„But you’re afraid that I will?“ Raphael traced Astarion‘s jawline with a claw, then went on to his ears. „Have you even considered for just one moment, that I am a devil? I mean truly considered. What I deem pleasurable might seem strange to you. What I find fun“, he continued to scrape his claws along Astarion‘s ear. „might be agony to you.“

Astarion drew a shuddering breath, but couldn’t get himself to surrender to the fiend beneath him.

„Since you shiver so nicely for me“, Raphael purred. „I‘m willing to throw you a bone, my dear vampling. This isn’t torture. It’s a lesson.“ His hand closed around Astarion’s chin again, and he moved his face towards the table.

A document appeared, Astarion recognizing his bloody signature immediately.

„A lesson I thoroughly enjoy. You are permitted to as well, but it’s no obligation. Look.“

Astarion had little choice as Raphael was forcing him to stare right at the paper. „I‘m looking.“

„Ah, ah. No talking unless I ask you question.“

Astarion ground his teeth.

„Good boy. Now look at the introductory line. What does it say?“

„Astarion Ancunin, henceforth: „the debtor“ signs over his body, mind and soul to Raphael of the House of Hope, henceforth: „the benefactor““, Astarion quoted. „The contract becomes legal with both signatures in blood and ends upon one of the following events:“ He swallowed. „Shall I read the list?“

„Later, pet“, Raphael murmured. „Continue here, for now:“ He pointed with a claw.

„The benefactor guarantees protection from any outside sources of harm in exchange for the debtor’s obedience and servitude.“

„Do you see how precise this first term is? It includes every important outline, followed by specifics. This is how you start a contract, do you understand?“

„Yes.“

„Good. Now read the next term to me.“
Astarion did, and again was stopped when he finished, so Raphael could explain the in-and-outs. The devil cited some arvernus law and took a great deal of time explaining the definition of „ownership“ to him.

Astarion became increasingly nervous as this went on. For one, because they went into every little detail of the contract he had signed just minutes ago.

Being owned by Raphael meant that he should aim to please his new master, obey his every word, and strive to meet his expectations. At the same time it meant being under the protection of an actual devil.
As long as Astarion pleased his master, he’d be safe and sound.
From all except his master, of course, who could do to him whatever he pleased.

The contract would end if Astarion betrayed Raphael by involving himself in schemes that might lead to his demise. If Raphael should fail to protect Astarion from Cazador specifically, the contract would end immediately, with Astarion being transported to an underdark settlement (Astarion had to acknowledge that drow weren’t likely to treat him with kindness). Otherwise Raphael could end their arrangement whenever he wished, but only upon Astarion’s agreement. There were a few other conditions, but these were rather tedious. If Astarion failed to complete a task, or refuse, the  contract wouldn’t end, which was the most important part.

But unless one of these very specific terms was met, their contract would last forever.

As Astarion was quite undead and Raphael was immortal, eternity wasn’t some abstract construct anymore. It was quite literal. Unless Astarion made an incredibly stupid mistake, he’d be here forever. Safe, but not free.

It wasn’t all bad.
But it was still overall pretty bad.

Astarion was forced to read every single term, all the services Raphael expected of him.
They included „Term 25: Use as a personal assassin, defined as a person who secretly murders an important person for political or religious reasons, without being detected or followed.“,
„Term 118: Use as a butler during parties, events, balls, soirées and similar events: Butler to be defined as a servant who heeds to the needs of one or multiple people.“, „Term 210: Use as a furniture“, and (Astarion‘s favourite):
„Term 379: Use for sexual activities, which the debtor may submit to or not. The debtor may initiate intimate actions, but stop when he is told. Debtor is to perform any and all sexual acts the benefactor’s commands, for as long as he demands.“

Astarion was hoarse by the time he read the last term. Raphael had spent the entire time holding him by the jaw and waist. They went on to the addendums Astarion had asked to add. And Astarion immediately saw the problem.
He had failed to properly define certain words in the terms. Many things might be misunderstood my a malevolent mind.

„I see“, he groused. „So, when are we going to start exploiting these?“

„We’re not. Unless you’re particularly keen to be abused“, Raphael chuckled. „No. We are going to properly define these together.“

„We… we will?“

„Yes. I own you so thoroughly, my little mouse. I did say I’d grant you three addendums. They should be properly spelled out. I can tell you know something about law. Now that Ive refreshed your memory…“ he made a pregnant pause. „Would you like to try formulating them as they should be?“

„Yes“, Astarion breathed. „Thank you.“

„Let’s start with the first.“

After going through the contract, Astarion quickly got a good grasp of how to formulate the addendums, but even so Raphael was genuinely… and surprisingly helpful.
In the end, the addendums were defined in a satisfactory way that gave Astarion some relief, and were agreeable to Raphael.

1. The benefactor is restricted from inflicting injuries leaving lasting marks as part of painful punishments on the debtor. Torture may not result in any permanent visible scarring or maiming. The benefactor may choose to inflict lasting marks as a sign of ownership, but not for his personal enjoyment.
2. The benefactor may not confine the debtor inside any space the size of a standard human coffin, or smaller, for any period of time. Confinement of the debtor inside windowless rooms with a space of less than 30 cubic feet is also forbidden. The benefactor may ask for the debtor to enter through or into spaces such as this as part of missions or out of necessity, but never lock the debtor inside one as punishment, for his amusement, or as manipulation. The benefactor may not threaten to confine the debtor in this or any similar manner.
3. The debtor is to be granted one day a month off. A day is defined as an uninterrupted period of 24 hours, during which the debtor may choose to leave to whichever place he may, on whichever plane he chooses. The debtor will be granted a functioning Necklace of the Sunwalker for the span of this time. The debtor may decide to spend this time with the benefactor, or alone. The debtor is to return of his own accord by the end of the day. Return of the debtor to the house if hope will conclude the day as over. The debtor may not leave for different locations within a day such as this.

Astarion looked the terms over carefully, keeping in mind what Raphael had told him before.
With a sigh, he leaned back. At this point he didn’t care that he leant into the devil still holding him in his claws. „This is the best I can do, I think.“

„Well done“, said Raphael. „You have a keen mind. Your old master wasted your talents. Rest assured that I won’t make the same mistake.“

Astarion did not miss the subtle threat concealed…somewhere… within that statement.
„Am I… is there anything else you’d like to teach me, master?“

Raphael chuckled. „Is there anything you’d like to learn?“ He ran his claws along Astarion’s cheeks.

„I‘d… I‘d like to go now“, Astarion admitted meekly. „Unless you still need me, please.“

„Oh, but weren’t you so eager to give yourself to me before? What’s the rush now all of a sudden?“

„Clearly you have no interest now“, Astarion countered, trying to be flippant. „Why else would you talk business when you have me in your lap already?“

„Maybe just having you in my lap is all I‘m interested in right now?“

Astarion sighed. „Well. I suppose I‘ll just stay here, then. Cooling your lap, as they say.“

„Exactly, pet. Do try to relax.“ He guided Astarion back against his impossibly warm chest, then released his jaw.
Astarion breathed a sigh of relief, then grew tense again when the devil snaked a hand beneath the shirt, creeping up his back.

„Please…!“, he squealed, but Raphael interrupted him by grabbing his jaw again, squeezing his throat warningly.

The devil growled in his ear. „Stay still.“

Astarion froze, muscles locked in fear. When Raphael released him, he remained exactly as he was.

The hand, unbelievably hot, resumed stroking up his back until it found the scars. Astarion shook with the effort to keep still, unbidden memories bubbling to the forefront of his consciousness.

The blade, the „needle“, a sharp and cruel talon, hot and burning, dripping with biting holy water, rending his flesh, splitting skin and muscle, poison dripping into the wounds, bubbling, burning, melting. Astarion’s wails and cries. His master’s voice, scolding him for twitching, for screaming, for every flinch he couldn’t hold back.

Astarion sat in the devil’s lap, frozen and trembling, the hot hands roaming the expanse of his scarred back. And tears were dripping from his cheeks before he knew it.
Raphael continued the examination with his hand, tracing the scars over and over, claws tender on his skin, and Astarion began retreating into a dark, but safe crevice of his mind. He had spent a lot of time here lately, and it seemed that even with his new master, Astarion wouldn’t be spared frequent returns. He was sure this was only the beginning.
Astarion shut everything out, leaving his body behind in the devil’s scalding grip, while his mind retreated into this dark and lonely place at the bottom of the lake of his mind.

He didn’t get to remain there for long.
Raphael found him, and hooked him on his claws like a fish, yanking him back into awareness.

Astarion snapped out of it with a cry of pain, ending in a stuttering sob. The devil had dug his claws into his lower arm, without drawing blood, but hard enough to hurt and scare him.

„I asked you a question, pet“, muttered Raphael.

Astarion squirmed helplessly in his grip, still sobbing and shaking. „I… I didn’t hear…“ He sniffled, trying to keep the tears from flowing any further. „Please, don’t…“

„I asked: How long have you had these?“

Astarion flinched when the claws dug deeper into his arm, threatening to break the skin. „One-hundred… and n… ninety-three years…“, he replied in a quivering voice. „1 month, 16 days.“

„Hm.“ The grip on his arm eased. „Good.“ He nudged Astarion forward. „Stand up. Let me see them.“

Suddenly free, Astarion had an almost overwhelming urge to run. He climbed off the devil’s lap with very slow movements, ready to stop and freeze as soon as Raphael seized him, or told him otherwise.

As soon as he stood, Raphael tugged the shirt completely out of his waistband, then pulled it over his head.

Astarion had gone pliant, his mind hastily retreating again. Where Raphael put him, he stayed.
No thought was required.
He didn’t have to think about the scars forever carved into his back, a horrid reminder of a cruel master.
He didn’t have to worry about the devil at his back, or how much interest he was showing in that tacky poem Cazador had left him with.

Raphael was quiet as he examined the scars, turning Astarion this way and that to get a better angle.

Eventually, to Astarion’s alarm, be began to chuckle, a deep grumbling laugh emanating from his throat.

„This is getting better and better“, he mused. When Astarion didn’t reply, the devil nudged him. „Pet?“

Astarion barely had it in him to make an affirming noise.

„You may get dressed.“

Astarion nearly sobbed in relief as he put his shirt back on, covering the scars as they should be. Afterwards, he just stood there, unsure of where Raphael wanted him, unwilling to turn around, unwilling to look at him. He felt like he might collapse if the devil touched him now.

„Look at me, pet. Let me see your tears.“

Astarion closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then turned around, shoulders pulled up, eyes fixed on the ground, tears still streaming down his face.

Raphael took a moment to take in the sight before him, then took him by the chin and forced him to look up.
„I told you to look at me.“

Astarion nodded numbly, meeting the gold gaze of his tormentor, his master.

„I will elect not to punish you for the oversight“, the devil said calmly. „Because I find your misery quite exquisite. But don’t test me.“

Astarion nodded again.

The devil gripped his chin tighter, squeezing a strangled gasp out of Astarion. „You are so very beautiful in your suffering. I‘m beginning to understand why your old master was so fond of inflicting pain upon you.“ He released him and went to sit at his desk, waving his hand. A circular collection of strange jagged symbols and lines appeared on a paper on the table, and Raphael considered it with interest.
Without meeting Astarion‘s gaze, he said: „But worry not. I have better use for you than the brute. You are excused for today. I permit you to roam the house as you please. Meet me here tomorrow at noon.“

Astarion stood, frozen, and stared at the devil, then nodded again. He could hardly believe he was going to escape further torture. Or any torture, really. All the devil had technically done, was to hold him and touch him. It was nothing. And yet, he was shaking like a leaf, relieved and disbelieving.

Raphael turned is gaze from the strange script on his table and to him. „What do we say?“

„Thank you, master“, Astarion gritted out.

When Raphael dismissed him with a wave of his hand, he practically fled from the room, stumbling into the hallway and running back towards his quarters.

On the way, he bumped into another fiend, tall and slender, dressed in a rather scandalous gold and leather outfit.

The stranger playfully caught him like a dancer, and dipped him, preventing him from ending up sprawled on the ground.
„Now, now! Careful…“, the stranger lilted, almost nose to nose with Astarion. Their breath smelled of sweet blood. „My, look at what I‘ve caught.“ Their hands snaked towards Astarion‘s lower back teasingly.

Astarion squirmed at the sensation of being touched, and hastily disentangled himself, before fleeing further past the giant painting and into his room.

The fiend laughed as he ran, their voice echoing in the long hallway. Though they didn’t follow, their voice certainly did, and so did the echo of their touch.

Astarion slammed shut the door, fumbling for the keys and turned the lock, then stepped back towards the center of the room.
He stayed there for a long while, staring at the door, convinced that the devil would come and get him. Any moment he’d burst in and rip open Astarion‘s scars, tear into him and rend the flesh from his bones…
But no-one entered his room.
No-one disturbed him.
No-one even seemed to pass by outside.
It was all quiet for the rest of the day, and then well into the night.

Eventually, slowly, the tension bled from Astarion‘s muscles, and he shuffled over to the bed, crawling beneath the sheets. If he was going to be miserable, might as well be miserable in silk sheets.

The soft cool material was soothing. The color became more vibrant as it absorbed his tears too.

He scolded himself. Raphael had hardly touched him. Even what he had threatened was not nearly as bad as what Astarion had experienced. He had expected much worse.
And yet, he was sobbing like a child after a nightmare, hiding beneath the blankets and hoping no-one would find him like this.

As the night went by, Astarion calmed himself somewhat. The thorough examination of his scars had caught him by surprise, but it was over and done with now. He got through it, now he needed to be ready for what the devil had in store for him next.
Astarion turned over to his back and stretched out for his trance. He needed to get a good few hours and be with Raphael by noon.
Recover.

Maybe tomorrow he‘d find it in him to continue this tenuous game he and the devil were playing.

Chapter Text

Astarion woke up feeling surprisingly well rested. It felt good waking up and being intact, at least physically.
He remembered the horror Raphael had subjected him to without even hurting him. He shuddered to think what else the devil was capable of.
Astarion didn’t know how late it was, but he guessed it was morning. If mornings even existed in the hells. So far all he had glimpsed of the outside had been a perpetually red stormy sky.
Perhaps he should ask someone sometime.

But for now… well wasn’t there ever so much to distract himself with?

Astarion began rummaging through the drawers of the desk and found paper, ink, feathers and pens, all quite boring.
Next, he discovered a booklet bound in soft red leather, pages still blank. He pocketed that for now.

On to the closet it was!
To Astarion‘s delight, there were a great many outfits to be found by now. Maybe a servant had put them there for him. So, the next few hours Astarion spent trying on the clothes, one outfit after the other. They all fit perfectly like someone had given the devil his exact measurements. While not pleasant to think about, Astarion certainly wasn’t complaining about everything seeming tailor-made just for him. Some of the colours and patterns though… meh. Astarion would have chosen differently.
Gods how he wished he could use that mirror hanging next to the closet. He‘d spend all day admiring himself dressed in this finery, but such was the struggle of being undead.

Others might have claimed they weren’t bothered by the lack of a reflection, but Astarion had lived too long to pretend he wasn’t vain. He knew he was beautiful, everyone kept telling him all the time. He could tell by the way they all looked at him.
He just wished he could see it for himself.

After the closet, there were shelves to sort through. It was mostly books, really, and all written in what Astarion assumed was infernal.
Weirdly, the script seemed vaguely familiar to him. Like he had seen the letters before over the centuries, without understanding their meaning. He just couldn’t quite remember where…
And thinking about it for too long made Astarion uncomfortable, so he quickly abandoned the issue.

There was more to find here, more to stick his nose into. He continued with the shelves and looked between the books. There were disappointigly few baubles to pilfer. A wooden music box that didn’t work anymore, an empty vase (safe for the dust), and a few strange instruments Astarion didn’t know the name or function of.
He spent some time examining these, but after failing to figure out what they were for, he was distracted by the growing sense of impending doom whispering, then finally screaming at him to get going before Raphael collected him.
Astarion pushed the nagging voice away for as long as he could, but eventually conceded that this… whatever he had been tinkering with for the last 30 minutes… wasn’t interesting enough to risk displeasing his new master.

Astarion put the thing back into the shelf, adjusted the outfit he had chosen (a nice white shirt with frills, and dark tight leather pants), took a deep calming breath, and then headed for the door.
When it didn’t open immediately, Astarion briefly panicked thinking he’d been locked in, before he remembered he had locked the door from the inside the day before.

Gods, how long had it been since he had been given a key? On the inside of the door. Of his own room. Just by giving him the key, Raphael had given him more agency, more power, than Cazador ever had.
And Astarion might be late his very first day after signing his contract with him.

What in the hells was he doing?

He opened the door and hurried down the hallway, slowing down a bit as he went. If he could catch sight of anyone in the adjacent rooms or around a corner somewhere, he might ask them for the time.
He came across a tiefling with brownish red skin hurriedly exiting a pathway on the left, his arms full of heavy books and tomes.
„Ah, um, excuse me!“ Astarion jogged after him, then sped up when the tiefling didn’t stop. „Hello!“

The tiefling stopped, the books in his arms
nearly falling. He peeked over the pile with some difficulty. „What? Who… who in the hells are you?“

Astarion found himself suddenly poised to see the books be dropped. Maybe just the one at the very top? But no, he had a question to ask. „Astarion. Raphael’s new… assassin.“

„Ah“, the tiefling groused. „That explains the books he’s been requesting. Look, I‘m in a hurry. Do you need anything, assassin?“ The way he said it, Astarion guessed he knew about the other services he was to provide for the devil. Every single one.

„Yes, well…“, Astarion took his time, watching the books teeter dangerously. „I‘m supposed to meet with Raphael at noon, and… well there’s no window in my room, for one. And no sun, either, unless I‘m mistaken. So, how do I tell the time? I‘d rather not be late, darling.“

Finally that book he had been eying fell, and in an attempt to catch it, the tiefling dropped several more, before giving up. As he lowered his arms, the few tomes he had managed to hold on to before, joined the others on the polished floor.
The tiefling looked at him, apparently too tired for actual exasperation, but Astarion was happy with the mildly reproachful look he received.
„Well then you better hurry, darling“, the tiefling finally replied scathingly. „It’s noon right now. And the Lord of the House hates to be kept waiting.“ He offered a wave and a grin. „Good luck, assassin.“

Astarion stared in shock for another few seconds, then he ran.

He heard the tiefling chuckle and mutter: „Don’t bother.“

Astarion ignored the remark and doubled his speed, nearly colliding with a woman swooping from another hallway, dancing a manic waltz.
He only narrowly avoided her, then burst into the boudoir, nearly tripping on the carpet.
Raphael sat at the desk, clearly expecting him. The claws of one large hand were idly tapping the table, and he was resting his chin in the other.

„Ah, and here I thought you had forgotten about our little appointment“, he greeted him.

Astarion didn’t miss the low growl in his voice, though his face didn’t betray any ill feelings.

Astarion quickly thought about how to best adress his obvious tardiness. Which action was the least likely to result in punishment? Cazador would react best to see him grovel, but Raphael seemed to enjoy Astarion trying his charms on him. Maybe he‘d punish him either way, but Astarion felt like begging for forgiveness wasn’t the best approach with his new master. Instead, he’d try continuing this game they had played yesterday. It was better than going back to being an undignified snotty heap like he’d been towards the end of their last meeting.

So, slightly out of breath and sweating nervously, Astarion waved a hand in an effort to look flippant.
„Good morning, my gracious benefactor“, he greeted the devil with a charming smile. „What would you ask of me today? I am at your service, master.“ Just a little groveling, for good measure. A pinch, nothing more.

Raphael smiled back, but only briefly. He sat up straighter, wings stretching, tail twitching. „Are you aware you’re late, pet?“

Astarion flinched. „I’m surprised you can tell.“ The cheeky reply came bubbling out before he was done thinking about his answer. „There’s no sun here. No night or day, and no clocks anywhere.“ He crossed his arms and met Raphael’s gaze boldly (or so he hoped). „No way to tell the time.“

The fiend looked genuinely amused. His tail was twitching. „So that’s your excuse? Blaming me? Blaming Avernus itself? Whatever, I wonder, is going through that pretty little head of yours?“

Astarion shuddered. Suddenly he remembered all the ways the devil could hurt him. Reflexively he backed away, but Raphael raised a hand, and Astarion felt a tug around his neck, pulling him back towards Raphael. It wasn’t painful, nor was he forced to move past the point he had been standing before, but Astarion began to panic just from the sensation of the invisible chain around his neck.

Raphael continued once Astarion looked properly chastised. „So, you can’t be bothered to ask any of my numerous servants and slaves for the time, and elect even the risk of being late for your very first day, do you?“ He had risen from his chair and closed the distance between them slowly.

„Ah… I did ask…“ Astarion said, eyes fixed on Raphael’s feet. He was wearing such nice shoes too. „Your librarian.“

„And yet, you are late.“ Raphael extended his hand towards Astarion, palm up.

Astarion stared at it, half expecting the devil to seize or strike him.

„Your hand, if you please.“

Astarion, after a few seconds of hesitation, chose to give his left, just in case Raphael was going to start breaking fingers.

Raphael smirked as his impossibly warm hand closed around Astarion’s, prying his ring finger apart from the rest.

Fully expecting it to be snapped, Astarion tensed up, gritting his teeth and preparing for the pain, his hand shaking with the effort it took not to pull back. Astarion opened his mouth to apologize, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. „I… I am sorry, master. I tried…“

Raphael’s smirk widened, then he slipped a ring on Astarion’s finger. „There. This will help you tell the time.“

Astarion gaped at him, eyes flicking to the tiny gold band glinting against his white skin. It wasn’t just pretty, but it also didn’t hurt. „What?“

„The time. This will help you“, the devil replied, smiling. „Let’s make sure you don’t lose it.“ Raphael’s hand closed around his wrist, tight enough to hurt.

The ring began to wind itself tighter like some wicked miniature snake, and it turned burning hot.

Astarion yelped and tried backing away and shaking the thing off, but Raphael held him firm, quickly pulling Astarion against his chest and keeping him there with a strong arm. He held Astarion’s hand with the burning ring aloft and away as his cries were muffled by his chest.

Astarion screamed and fought in the devil’s grip, clawing at him with his free hand, but the pain stopped after only a few seconds.
With a sob of relief, Astarion sagged against Raphael, shaking like a leaf.

His hand was twitching as the fiend lowered his arm and pushed Astarion away, but just enough for him to look at his fingers. With his free arm around Astarion’s waist, he held him flush against his stomach.

„There“, said the devil. „Now you won’t lose it.“

He was correct. The gold band had tightened enough to dig into his flesh, and had melted into the skin. It hurt like the hells, throbbing angrily, but Astarion saw the wound already beginning to mend. His vampiric healing factor kicking in now that he was properly fed.

Staring at his finger, Astarion realized that this ring was never coming off. It was merged with him now.

„Look, here.“ Raphael turned his hand and turned Astarion’s attention to a tiny engraving. „See these notches? Imagine the hours of your day split in 8. Noon, that’s this one. See this dot? Yes, there. See how it already wandered well past noon, towards the next notch? That’s how you know you’re late.“ He released Astarion‘s hand and smiled down at him. „What do we say?“

„Thank… thank you, master“, Astarion squealed.

„Good boy“, Raphael released him, then turned abruptly turned around and headed for the desk. His tail snapped against Astarion’s thigh painfully, but didn’t wring another scream from him. „Now, for your first task.“

Astarion stood where he had been left, staring at the devil. He was just supposed to go on with his day now? The torture was over, so now it was… back to business? Overall, Astarion was unsure of what to think about that. Cazador surely wouldn’t have left it at a few seconds of pain.

Astarion examined his finger, now merged with gold. Already his hand stopped hurting, bones, sinews and skin quickly adjusting to the metal melted into his finger. At first glance, it didn’t look like anything special.

„Come here.“ Raphael’s tail flicked, smacking the ground with a sharp bang.

Astarion nearly tripped over his own feet hurrying over to the desk.

Raphael scooted over and revealed a drawing on the desk. It was an ornate necklace with gemstones of various sizes dangling on rings upon rings. It looked like something a noblewoman might wear to her first ball once, and then never again for fear of losing a gemstone.
„This is the necklace of the unfortunate late lady Stone-Oak. She passed this piece to her son, who has taken up residency in Baldur‘s Gate lately, an advisor to the city council. He may yet join it, or not.“ He leaned back in his chair, spreading his wings to allow his back to rest against the cushions. „Either way, you are going to sneak into Wyrm‘s Rock Fortress and steal this necklace for me.“

Astarion locked from the drawing to Raphael, then back. „Am I… Are there any restrictions? Or am I free to do it any way I choose?“

Raphael bellowed a laugh, flashing his impressive set of teeth. „Oh, if you think going on a murder spree is going to make a theft from a poor noblewoman’s son easier, by all means. Obviously, don’t mention my name, pet. Otherwise I‘ll show you what punishment truly means.“ He waited for Astarion to process this threat, then continued: „If you have to murder anyone, I advise you to do so quietly. Otherwise, you’re free to complete this task in whatever manner you choose. Of course you only have until sunrise.“

„And what if I‘m caught?“, Astarion asked tentatively. „You… you‘d send someone to get me out, of course?“

„Hm.“ Raphael made a non-committing sound, pursing his lips. „If you prove unable to complete this first task, I might have no use for you as a thief, after all.“

„But… the contract…“, Astarion stammered. „Surely you can’t just…“

„Alas, I cannot“, confirmed Raphael. „Although I will be thoroughly disappointed should you fail. Rest assured that, should you require rescuing, I shall punish you. Is that understood?“

Astarion nodded, because he didn’t trust his voice enough to speak.

„Good. You depart as soon as night falls, so you have some time to prepare. There’s equipment waiting in your room as we speak.“

Again, Astarion nodded.

„One more thing, pet. Utter my name, and I shall hear it. Unlike the gods, I will answer if you call for help. But, pet?“

„Yes?“

„Don’t make me“, Raphael said darkly.

„Of course!“, Astarion was quick to assure. „Never! Say, how do I get back, once I pilfered this necklace for you? I‘d really rather not spend longer than I have to in Baldur‘s Gate.“

„Ah, of course.“ Raphael rose, towering over Astarion now. „You still need a mark.“

„A what?“ Astarion backed away, but just ever so slightly. He rather wanted to avoid being manhandled again. „Please, darling, be more specific.“

The devil smiled. „I did mention I might want to mark you as my own. And how fortunate for you that marks like this come with certain… benefits for the recipient. Including a permanent binding that allows me to teleport you here without much fuss.“

Astarion quailed at the thought of being branded now, after he had just gotten a ring burned into his finger. „Uh… do I… can I at least choose where you put it?“

Raphael snorted, genuinely amused. „Where, pray tell, did you have in mind, my little vampling?“

If only Astarion knew. As far as he was concerned, there really wasn’t any good place to receive a permanent brand that would mark him as a devil’s property. His back was the obvious spot, but unfortunately it was taken already. „Well… I suppose not my face.“

„It would be a shame to ruin it“, Raphael agreed.

„Hang on, how big is this mark? What does it look like?“

„It differs“, the devil seemed downright thrilled to get to the details. He began to stride up and down the room, gesturing with his hands, wings, and tail. It seemed he was rather fond of his theatrics. „From person to person, really. It’s influenced by your attitude towards me, mine towards you, the nature of our arrangement, of course. Those accepting of it may receive a boon. Of course I have some influence on it, but it isn’t all up to me, pet.“

„A boon, you say? Like what?“ Astarion certainly could do with a boon or two.

Raphael came closer, hands clasped behind his back. „Who am I, to spoil the surprise?“, he teased.

This time, Astarion didn’t back away. „I‘m not particularly fond of surprises“, he admitted. „But if I can get a boon, then I suppose let’s get it over with. Anywhere but my face, I suppose.“

Raphael raked his golden eyes over his body, considering. „Hm. I should like to put it around your neck, I think. Easy to reach, plain to see. My mark to show anyone you are owned.“

Unthinkingly, Astarion raised a hand to his throat. „I was hoping for somewhere less obvious.“

„It needn’t be obvious.“ Raphael raised his large hand towards Astarion. „Hold still, and try accepting it as a gift.“

Astarion wanted to cower, to run, to beg, to fight… but more so he wanted the boon the devil had promised. The power. Anything to make him feel just a bit more in control.
So he stayed, raising his head to face Raphael, exposing his neck to him. He was shaking all over, but held his master’s gaze. „Alright. I think I‘m ready.“

„It‘s going to hurt“, Raphael warned.

Astarion offered a weak laugh. „So I figured.“

The next moment, the large red hand had closed around his throat, easily reaching all the way around his neck.

Astarion grasped for Raphael’s arm, just to support himself, and for no other reason.
The devil’s hand began to burn hot and hotter, scalding his cool skin.
Astarion gritted his teeth, his fingers digging into Raphael’s arm. He was in pain, as the devil had warned him, but he could still breathe. Raphael wasn’t choking him at all. Overall, this wasn’t so bad. Not yet, anyway.
The burning sensation, meanwhile, intensified to the point where it didn’t feel like heat anymore. The pain ate past his skin and into his flesh, and then… somehow deeper, to a cold and dead place within him, something thought long lost and forgotten.
Astarion jerked back, more from the shock of the sudden awareness of this place than anything, though the pain was slowly making it difficult to think.

Still without restricting his breathing, Raphael held him tighter, clawing pinching the back of his neck.
He raised his other hand to Astarion’s head, and, to his utter bafflement, began to gently pet him. Even more baffling was how soothing Astarion felt the gesture was. How grateful he was for it, amidst the pain and helpless confusion.

Then the real pain started, and Astarion howled and would have collapsed if not for Raphael’s strong grip. There was one brilliant surge of mind-numbing heat, consuming him from the inside out, burning, rending him apart.
Astarion’s voice broke in a horrific scream, and he thought that surely, this would kill him.

And then it was over.

Astarion found himself cradled in Raphael’s arms, face wet with tears, knees long given out. The devil held him.

„Was that so bad?“, Raphael cooed as he carded his fingers through Astarion’s curls.

Astarion wasn’t sure. He was shivering from the shock of the pain, the shock of still being alive. „What did you do?“, he whispered, too shaken to move away from the devil.

A deep chuckle reverberated through Raphael’s broad chest. „A devil’s touch will brand your soul as well. Many find the experience discomforting. You‘ve done surprisingly well, little mouse.“ Astarion sobbed to hear the paise. „Now, I suggest you prepare for your task. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me later, pet. Trust me.“ Raphael released him, stepping back towards the desk.

Astarion had no idea how to do anything after this soul-shattering and frankly terrifying experience. He felt so small and fragile all of a sudden. And, alarmingly, he found he missed the fiend’s warmth. He had an urge to go after Raphael and curl up against him, to be held and soothed like the devil had done before.
Ugh. He did not need to deal with that confusing desire right now, on top of everything else. So, he would shut that mix of emotions out and forget about it for as long as he could.

More important than what he did and didn’t want to do with his master, was to assess the damage the fiend had done to him.
Astarion raised his hands to his neck, feeling around for the brand, but didn’t find anything that felt different from his skin. „So, did it work, at least?“

„Oh, yes. One of my better works for certain. You were quite receptive. Your body, your soul, your very essence, are now bound to me. I‘d be surprised if no boon manifested itself, in time.“ Raphael returned to his desk. „Do tell me when it does.“

Astarion stood where he had been put, still shaking. „I don’t suppose the theft can wait one more night?“

The devil chuckled. „Would you rather spend the night with me?“

„Oh, uh…“ Astarion, to his own surprise, was completely taken aback by the direct question, that open flirt. Or threat? Who even knew with the devil. „Well… I suppose it depends!“ He tried to save face, to match Raphael’s smirk. „What you‘d want to do to me.“

Raphael turned a page of the book he had opened on the table. „Oh, would you like the full list? Let’s say I‘m far more likely to be kind if you completely your task tonight to my full satisfaction.“ He glanced at Astarion. „Oh? You’re not blushing are you?“

Astarion hoped not! He didn’t think he could. In his 200 years he‘d certainly been flirted with more times than he could count. But he never blushed, not really, not even when he had done his best at pretending to be wooed.

Raphael chuckled at his speechlessness. „Leave me, pet. Contrary to what you might believe, I do have work to do. I can’t spend all day amusing myself with you.“

Astarion finally found his voice. „Yes. Thank you, master.“

The devil nodded at him, then returned to his book. „Good boy.“

This time, Astarion didn’t run from the room. Instead of fleeing, he moved with measured steps, taking in his surroundings. He wasn’t alone in this house. Best to be extra aware of who else lived here.
So far, he had encountered the tiefling librarian. If Astarion needed a distraction, he thought he could come and see him. He‘d been fun enough to mess with, he supposed.
Not so much the strange woman he‘d seen frantically dancing. Best to avoid her, if at all possible.
Then there was that fiend who had caught him yesterday. While the creature had been beautiful, Astarion pledged to avoid it if he could. Surely Raphael wouldn’t appreciate him getting it on with another of his slaves and servants. And that creature had been more seductive than even Astarion. Best to steer clear. Gods knew Astarion didn’t need any more trouble.

As he returned to his room, he kept listening for nearby footsteps, and quieted his own accordingly. After the torture he had just gone through, he wasn’t the sneakiest he could be, but the practice would do him good. He needed to do well tonight.

Failing Raphael wasn’t an option.

Chapter Text

Back in his room, Astarion was met with the sight of a massive chest that hadn’t been here before.
The equipment Raphael had mentioned. Was there really a whole chest of it, all for him?
A rush of excitement came over him, and he felt like a child at Yule.

He had forgotten so much about who he had been once, long ago. His childhood was a foggy blur of vivid greens and blues, nothing more. But he vaguely remembered cold dark nights spent besides a cozy fire, sitting with someone who held him, sung with him. Someone who loved him.
Stories whispered, gifts exchanged, lights glinting through the longest nights of the year.

Over the centuries of prowling the streets like a ghost, he had witnessed many such evenings from afar, enough for the feeling never to completely fade.

Now, looking at was likely an entire chest filled with tools for him to use, he felt like a child again. As far removed from a Yule celebration as this might be.

Astarion rushed to open the heavy lid, then promptly sat down, overwhelmed.
On the very top of the chest‘s contents, Astarion found a light leather armor, crafted so beautifully he could have wept. It looked more like a suit, allowing him to fit into social gatherings, and to offer protection in combat, if the need arose. The color was… dark purple, no, dark blue… reddish? What was that?

Carefully he ran a hand along the silvery seams, certain that he hadn’t ever worn anything like this. The fabric was changing colors as it shifted in his hands. Magic, some enchantment surely.
Astarion quickly stripped off his doublet and changed into the armor.
The leather hugged his form, and it felt amazing. As he pulled tight the leather straps around his lower arms and wrists, the armor reacted by changing into a dark grey, perfect for stealth.
He felt safe, warm, prepared. Was that also magic?
Astarion looked himself down and found the he liked the view. He looked elegant and sleek, ever the assassin and thief Raphael had anointed him as
„Now, how do you work?“, Astarion asked. He thought of a party, a ball with music and dancing, colorful suits and dresses, elaborate hair…
The armor rippled around him, quickly changing to black, then red, and finally a rich and vibrant dark blue with shining silver details.
„Oh, yes“, said Astarion in reply. „This will do.“ He ran a hand over the fabric covering his chest. „I have a feeling we‘ll get along nicely.“

Then he got to the rest of the chest’s contents. There were various knives, daggers, tools for picking locks, and disarming traps, and a belt with 5 vials of potions.
Astarion put on the light leather boots and stowed away the smallest knives in the tiny sheathes worked into the material. The boots hummed, making Astarion pause.
It would have been nice to have some instructions… Clearly the boots were enchanted as well, but what spell was it?
Astarion sat down and examined the boots more closely, but there were no labels, nothing betraying their origin or purpose.

He‘d get to it later, then. Astarion examined the potions.
There was one in red, smelling of rogue’s morsel. Healing.
Another shimmered a dazzling blueish-purple, its scent unfamiliar to Astarion. He tapped at the glass and glowered at it, then put it back.
Next was a vial that seemed empty, but was heavy as the rest. An invisible potion surely would turn him invisible too.
Well, this mission looked like it might be fun.
Next was a vial of poison with a strong biting smell.
There were two more potions Astarion couldn’t name by appearance or smell. He was uncertain whether to take them along or not. If he did get into trouble, perhaps he’d just take them either way to get an edge, anything to get out unscathed.
Surely Raphael had thought to prepare this for him, so he could use it this mission.

Astarion packed all the potions, securing them back at his belt, and put it on below his jacket.
Next were the tools he stashed away in cleverly placed pockets in his sleeves. It was all custom made so they fit in ever so snugly without betraying their presence.

There was a cloak too, elegant enough to fit a nobleman.
Astarion put it on with a dramatic flourish, almost disappointed no-one saw him. Now he was even more disappointed he couldn’t see himself.
As he spun around to have the cloak billow around his form, he pictured himself as a hero in some adventure novel. No, not a hero (boring, tedious), he‘d fit the role of the charming rogue much better.
Astarion couldn’t hold back a laugh as he whipped around and pulled a knife on an imaginary foe.
He wondered if the cloak was enchanted too, but was distracted by an enthusiastic applause from a single pair of hands.

He gave an undignified screech and jumped, then the ground beneath his feet was gone and he found himself tumbling down somewhere behind the bed, crashing into the nightstand as he went.

A laugh, from a voice rich and deep. Raphael?

Astarion disentangled himself from his cloak, and got up. „What in the hells…?“ He saw the devil stand in the doorway, still clapping his hands.
„Marvelous performance“, he said. „What a fine figure you strike, indeed. And look, the boots of Misty Step work. Next time, do try not to misty step into a wall, yes?“

Astarion stared. Raphael was almost naked, and he reeked of sex. What in the hells was going on?

The devil grinned at him. „You don’t recognize me, do you? I‘m hurt.“ He came in now, closing the door behind him. „I thought I made quite the impression.“

„You’re not Raphael“, growled Astarion. The scent was all wrong. „What is this?“

„Oh, aren’t you a fast one?“ The fiend put a hand on his hip, a gesture so unlike Raphael that it was comical. „Fine. Which form would you prefer, then?“ His form shimmered and shifted, and suddenly there was no Raphael anymore, but a tall elegant elven woman with lush black curls. „This one? Oh!“ The elf raised a finger, then changed into a handsome human man, rugged but friendly looking. „Or would something like this put you more at ease?“

„Who… what in the hells are you?“, Astarion crouched and pulled a dagger from his boot, raising the other one he had held on to as well.

„Fine, ugh.“ The stranger rolled his eyes. „You’re no fun.“ Then they shifted again, and this time Astarion recognized the fiend from yesterday, the one who had caught and spun him like a dancer. „Now do you recognize me?“

Astarion glowered. „What the hells are you thinking just barging in here disguised as Raphael?“

„Oh, calm down already!“ The fiend laughed, waving a hand. „Raphael just sent me. He mentioned the equipment he had brought to you, and I thought you might appreciate some help. So, I‘m here on his orders.“ They chuckled. „Disguised as Raphael, hah!“

„You… you serve him?“ Astarion didn’t put the dagger away just yet. „Who are you?“

„Call me Haarlep“, the fiend replied. „Raphael’s own personal incubus. Now, at your service. We wouldn’t want poor Raphael to have to flog you, should you fail.“

„Haarlep“, Astarion repeated. „That was you, yesterday. Do you usually get handsy with every stranger you see in a hurry?“ He wasn’t even remotely surprised Raphael had his own incubus. Of course he did.

„Only if they’re as dazzling as you“, Haarlep came closer, stopping by the chest. „Now, come here. I won’t lay a finger on you. Unless you beg me.“ They flexed their wings, revealing a pinkish hue.

„Why did you… look like him, just now? Just to give me a fright? I can respect that, at least.“ Very reluctantly, Astarion came out from behind the bed. „Do you know about my mission, then?“

„Of course“, Haarlep replied easily. „Master Raphael told me every little detail. He’s quite looking forward to finding out about your… merit as a thief. Ah… Astarion, was it?“

„Yes.“

„So, Astarion“, they purred. „You know how to pick a lock, I hope? Sneak around? I‘d think a vampire should know, hm?“

„Yes, obviously.“

„Good“, the incubus said. „Well, you already learned about these boots of Misty Step, haven’t you?“

„Thanks to you“, Astarion groused. „So I assume these have lost their use for today?“

„I think they have two charges. So, don’t misty step again until you need to, yes?“ Haarlep sat down cross-legged by the trunk and gave a squeal of frustration. „Ah! You already took everything! You just equipped yourself with random potions? Come here.“ They patted the ground next to them. „Come here already, I don’t bite.“

Astarion came, but flashed his fangs in warning. „I do. So keep your hands to yourself, dear.“

Haarlep threw their head back in laughter, a beautiful lilting sound Astarion couldn’t help wanting to hear more of. „Oh, I like you already. What if I ask you to bite? What then?“

Astarion had not seen this coming, and he knew he had to come up with a good reply, and fast. „Careful what you ask for. You might bite off more than you can chew.“ No, wait. Fuck.

Haarlep of course noticed the unfortunate (but admittedly hilarious misstep). „I wouldn’t know what that’s like. I‘m an incubus, not a vampire, you know.“ Their tail was lashing from side to side. „Now, will you sit, or do I have to come and get you? We both know which option I‘d prefer.“ Suddenly their form flickered back to Raphael’s. „Last chance, pet. Come here.“

Flustered, Astarion stared at them. „Just… can you stop this already? This isn’t the time. I need my focus up.“

„Oh, am I distracting you?“

„You are practically naked! And your scent… it’s an incubus thing, isn’t it? You can’t even help it!“ Raphael’s voice and looks certainly did their part in scrambling Astarion‘s thoughts, but the incubus didn’t need to know that!

With a subtle flicker of magic and a shiver, the fiend changed back into the creature Astarion had encountered yesterday. They leaned back, smiling. „Yeah, I can’t“, Haarlep sighed happily, unashamedly.

Astarion couldn’t help but snort a laugh.

„Do try to understand me a little“, they said. „You’re the most exciting thing to happen to me in… hah, I don’t even remember how long. And your eyes, your cute little curls… your… everything, sweetling! Ah, I could take you to places no god can ever hope to reach.“

„Careful, darling. You’re laying it on a bit thick“, Astarion replied as coolly as he could. But he was maybe just a little bit flattered and surprised by the energy the incubus had brought with them. Suddenly he didn’t feel so condemned anymore. „Though I appreciate the compliment. Continue, while you explain the rest of these to me.“ He sat down on the floor next to Haarlep, holding their gaze.

„How about a little game, then?“, the fiend replied with a grin. „I just love games. How about you compliment me back? One for you, one for me.“

Astarion was fairly sure Haarlep didn’t know about his previous engagements in Baldur’s Gate, and charming patrons in bars for no less than 200 years.
„Very well“, Astarion replied with hooded eyes. „it’s your turn, my darling Haarlep.“

The incubus looked delighted, extending a graceful hand. „Around that swan neck of yours, is a cloak of the bat. It allows you to glide through the air a certain distance, when you are obscured in shadow. It will break your fall too. Very rare, very precious. Like you.“ They looked Astarion in the eyes, then, vulnerable as a virgin professing their love.

Astarion had heard and seen plenty of those from actual virgins, but he had to admit, Haarlep was very good. „Your eyes, my sweet, shine like pools of starlight“, he replied, „Have the gods plucked them from the heavens to bless me on this fine evening?“

Haarlep beamed, their hand gently brushing his jacket aside to pull free the hidden potions at his belt. They held them up, one by one. „Red for healing, purple… for mind reading.“ They paused, considering the vial. „How I‘d like using this on you. Get into that pretty little head of yours.“

Astarion snatched the vial from them. „You may not like what you find“, he replied. „You awaken scandalous desires in me, that surely would shock even a creature such as you.“ He saw Haarlep clasp both their hands over their pretty mouth in delight, and turned their attention to their task again with a flourish of his hand. „What about the rest, darling? This one’s an invisibility potion, yes?“

„Right you are, sweetling. 10 minutes of invisibility, unless you break the spell by doing something silly. Now, this one.“ They picked another vial with a brownish liquid. „Not a potion. Grease. So many interesting uses. I‘m sure you’ll think of just what to do with it.“

Astarion grinned suggestively at the incubus. „Oh I‘m sure I do. What’s this, then?“ He held up the last unfamiliar potion.

„I suggest you don’t open that one. It contains a dust that‘ll make anyone who comes in contact with it, sneeze. Good to make a quick getaway.“

Astarion chuckled. „Oh, I like this.“

„I‘m glad you do. Last one: Poison.“

„I thought so.“

„The armor, as you found out, can change and shift according to the wearer’s whims. Good choice, by the way.“ The incubus gestured towards his dark blue suit. „It‘ll help you blend in just fine.“ They took Astarion‘s hand and turned it, lifting it towards their face.
Astarion was awfully busy blushing because he thought they were going to kiss it, but Haarlep was focussed on the ring burned into him. „Almost time, my sweet. Let’s get you ready.“

Pointedly, Astarion took the grease bottle from him and tucked it away.

Haarlep laughed. „Ah, if you make it back, we’re going to have so much fun. It’s been so long since I‘ve had decent company.“

Astarion had to admit he didn’t hate their company either. At least as long as they wouldn’t try to bed him.

„Doesn’t Raphael keep you busy?“ Astarion asked as he hid the knives in straps on his thighs, cleverly hidden beneath a jacket flap.

„Don’t you start“, the incubus groaned. „He’s just so dreadfully boring. Although… I suppose he was slightly more enthusiastic since you’re here.“

Suddenly queasy, Astarion cleared his throat. „Yes, well…“

„He really hasn’t touched you yet, has he?“ Haarlep seemed intruigued, scandalized.

„He touched me plenty, thank you very much!“ But Astarion was confused himself. Clearly Raphael was interested, hells, he’d said as much and literally put a term about sexual activities in the contract. He had played with him a bit, but, surprisingly nothing below the belt at all. Yet.

Haarlep made a face, opened their mouth, then shrugged, then shrugged and plastered a pleasant expression on their face. „Come, I‘ll show you to the portal room.“

„Wait“, Astarion said. „What was that, just now? I saw that!“

„Nothing, nothing.“

„I saw that!“, Astarion hissed. „If you know something I don’t, fucking tell me!“

„Sweetling!“, Haarlep took him by the shoulders, smiling reassuredly. „Relax! It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about.“

„Don’t touch me!“ Astarion twisted free. „Enough with these games of yours! Raphael‘s… I just don’t know what he wants with me, and it’s… I‘m scared, alright? I never know whether he’s about to rip my throat out or take me to bed! Just… please, Haarlep!“ It was despair that suddenly made him open up. And the incubus had seemed amicable thus far. Maybe they would help if he was earnest with them.

Haarlep looked at him, their eyes flicking between his, alarmed. Then they broke eye contact. „Master doesn’t tell me everything. He’s as fickle as hellfire. I wouldn’t know why he does what he does. I… I‘m sorry.“

Disappointed, Astarion turned away. „So, all you do is play? Fine. I don’t need your help. Where’s the portal room? I can find my own way.“

The incubus only nodded, not meeting his gaze, and said: „Down the hallway to the right, you’ll find a dining hall. Straight through and to the right, you’ll find the portals. The one just right of the middle one, that’ll take you to Baldur‘s Gate.“ Gone was the cheerful lilt in their voice.
Astarion nodded and tried walking out, but Haarlep took him by the arm. „Do not go through another of the portals.“ Their eyes were back on Astarion. „Do not.“

Astarion shuddered, hoping the fiend wouldn’t notice, then he freed his arm with a yank, and stormed from the room.

Just go right two times, easy.
Astarion pointedly walked down the hallway and past the painting, scoffing as he went. His head was a bit clearer now he had gotten some distance to the incubus.
With the clarity, his anxiety returned.
Just the thought of returning to Baldur’s Gate was terrifying to him. Cazador was his biggest concern, but there were also the hunters that had nearly captured and put an end to him. Then again, any person might discover his vampiric nature if he was careless or unlucky.
He knew he was protected through Raphael, but what if someone with a stake was faster than he could call on his new master?
Astarion shook his head in an effort to get rid of these thoughts. He simply wouldn’t be found out. No-one would think to lock him up or expose him to silver or sunlight, or a wooden stake, if he wasn’t caught stealing that necklace.
So, he simply wouldn’t be caught. Easy.

Another right, and Astarion entered a hall with a large round dining table in the center. There was another portrait of Raphael here, magnificent as the last, but even larger, and packed with details.
Astarion shuddered as he hurried past it, raising a hand to his neck where the mark was.
It irked him that he wasn’t just unable to see it, but also couldn’t feel it. He‘d have to ask someone about it. If he survived the night, that was.

Just as Haarlep had said, Astarion soon found himself in a room with several portals leading to cities in Faerun and beyond. Waterdeep, Chtul, Amn. And there was one radiating an incredible malice and a freezing cold leading to an icy hell of snow and dark foreboding glaciers.
Astarion shuddered just glancing at this place, and quickly turned away, looking around the one left to the middle.

Baldur’s Gate. Home.
Astarion peeked through, trying to figure out where exactly it would lead him, but he supposed it was enough to see the sun had set.

Astarion adjusted his armor one last time, then stepped into the ethereal shimmering embrace of the portal.

It was like being plunged into cold water, then there was a flash of brilliant white light and Astarion found himself stumbling over a tiled floor and into a large potted plant.
He gasped for air and looked himself down, examining his prickling fingers. Nothing seemed amiss, safe for the gold band around his finger, which still needed some getting used to.

Astarion looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was standing on a large balcony with a view of Wyrm‘s Crossing, an entrance to an elaborate boudoir behind him.
Hurriedly, he walked past it and found a set of stairs leading into a crowded taproom gallery.

Now he knew exactly where he was.
He knew it by scent, sound and the view he had of the main taproom.

Sharess‘ Caress.
Seriously?

Astarion immediately retreated into the shadows, wary of running into one of his siblings here. Some of them would come
here to hunt sometimes, Astarion included.
At least he was close to Wyrm‘s Rock Fortress, and far from Cazador’s palace,
but Sharess‘ Caress wasn’t a place he’d ever wanted to see again.

Astarion took a deep breath and started walking, behaving like he came here all the time (partially true) and had had enough fun for now (his fun was just about to begin).
Briskly he walked down the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t attract too much attention. He could feel the gazes of the patrons on the back of his neck, lingering, considering. Surely, if he‘d been dressed just a bit less extravagantly, someone would have stopped him, but he was spared until he had cleared the stairs.
The lady of the house was guarding the entrance. Surely she’d recognize him, but she believed him an unfortunate whore who showed up from time to time to steal the less wealthy customers away. Mostly, she left him alone.

As Astarion was thinking about how to approach the exit, there was a tug at his leg, and he flinched and looked down.

The cat of the house, of course. The animal had a habit of following him around whenever he was here. It was friendly enough with him, although he sometimes found the piercing blue stare a bit unsettling.

„Hello, darling“, he greeted it. „I‘m just passing through, don’t worry.“ Then he remembered to back away. „You‘ll get hair on my suit!“, he complained, trying to keep the purring creature off him. „Ugh“, he conceded and offered the cat a few scritches behind the ears. „Fine. You’re awful, truly. Now, will you let me pass, yes?“

The cat rubbed up against his hand,
tail brushing against his trousers.
Yes, he was in a hurry, but he found distracting himself with the cat to be incredibly calming. And it wasn’t like the creature would let him leave, so he crouched down and stroked the cat’s back and head.

„I really have to go, darling. I‘m sorry. Won’t your Mamzell pet you as you deserve, you poor thing?“

„She does, in fact“, came a cold voice from above. The Mamzell.

Astarion hastily stood up straight, earning a meow of protest from the cat. „Oh! Hello!“
He offered a smile and a wave, but he could tell it was awkward at best.

„Yes, hello to you too“, she replied, looking down her nose at him. „I haven’t seen you in a while. I assume you’re aware of the strange men scouring the city, and asking if anyone’s seen a pretty elf with white curls?“

Astarion swallowed, panicking. „Which, you surely haven’t.“

„Haven’t I?“ Mamzell crossed her arms. „You’ve been picking off my customers for years. Why wouldn’t I detain you and hand you over to whoever it is you angered?“

„I‘m not here to steal away your customers“, Astarion said swiftly. „If you’ll just let me go, I’ll be out of your hair.“

„You’ll be out of my hair either way.“

Astarion swallowed. „I‘ll pay you“, he said. „100 gold. I can get it to you by the end of the night.“

„100? That might convince old Fraygo, but me? This is Sharess‘ Caress.“

„Fine! 500!“, Astarion hissed. Meanwhile the cat was winding around his legs, raising its backside as it brushed around his ankles, and purring.

„500, and you stop picking off my customers“, she replied.

„Done“, Astarion sighed.
This was fine. Surely he could scrape together 500 gold in Wyrm‘s Rock somewhere. Wyrms Rock was full of rich people. They might not even notice if he took anything. „By the end of the night.“

„I‘ll hold you to that. Otherwise, I‘ll tip them off and tell my guards to hold you here until these… thugs take you away, should I ever see you again.“ She nodded at him. „Now, out with you.“

A burly half-orc stepped out from a crowd behind Astarion, took him by the upper arm, and dragged him towards the door.
Astarion made a careful step over the cat, then followed him outside without fuss. As soon as the bouncer left off him, he immediately turned towards the Fortress and started walking.

Great, now he needed to get the necklace AND 500 gold until sunrise. He really should have thought this all through. But time was short, and he thought he could come up with a strategy on the way to the castle.

The invisibility potion might come in useful just to enter the castle. Once he was in, he’d probably (hopefully) be mistaken for a noble, and ignored. Yes, that seemed a good option. But maybe he should save the potion. Hm. But for what? If he needed to make a quick getaway, he could always use the boots to misty step out of danger.
Or he‘d use the cloak and just fly from the window.
That would be fun.
But if he could just slip away undetected, he’d choose that option first.

Astarion walked until he reached the bridge, but no guard stopped or bothered him. Why would they? If he tried entering the Fortress, however, there would be questions.

So, Astarion went over to the railing and pretended to look out onto the river.

He wasn’t alone here. There was a couple that had stopped a few paces away to admire the moonlit waters, whispering softly. A bored looking guard was playing with his dagger.

Astarion saw the way he kept yawning and thought there’d soon be a change of shifts.

That would be his chance.

Chapter Text

Astarion was right. It was only a few minutes until the guards changed.

He downed the potion of invisibility as soon as he was sure no-one looked his way.
His body began to tingle unpleasantly, then the magic took effect.
It was disorienting and disconcerting not being able to see oneself, but as long as Astarion wasn’t asked to pick a lock while invisible, he could manage.

Silent as he was able, he snuck past the guards at the end of the bridge, then into the rooms to the left.

There was an audience hall somewhere upstairs. He’d been there a few decades past, for some coronation, or wedding, or execution, or something. Anyway, the hall had been full of people dressed much like him.
If he could get there, he could blend in, potion or no.

Astarion stopped to let a pair of chattering guards pass, and followed them, listening in to their conversation.

„…the council in two days?“, the first guard was in the middle of asking, she was a dragonborn.

„No idea. Just an excuse to have another feast, I‘d wager.“

„Probably. But as long as it means more gold for us. Let them have all the council meetings they want.“ There was a chuckle from the dragonborn guard.

„Fine by me, yes. Curious the duke’s son returned as well, don’t you think?“

„He has? I thought it was just a rumor!“

„No, really! I‘ve seen him just the other day. Apparently something he did impressed old Ulder enough to allow him back.“

„No way! Is he also part of the council?“

„Beats me. Doesn’t really matter, does it? We‘ll see soon enough.“

„You know, it’s like there’s always something…“

Astarion barely stopped following them before they turned into the guard‘s quarters, where dozens of them were sitting, talking, eating.

He really had no business going in there.
Instead, he snuck back around to another room where he spotted the stairs.
Surely guests would lodge up there, somewhere, in rooms high above the filth of the city, where unfortunate souls such as Astarion were out of sight, out of mind.

Carefully, he hurried up, up, up the stairs. It felt natural for him to sneak around like this. It felt good, probably mostly because he was fed. Hells, it was fun!
A few people came his way, mostly just guards, and he easily dodged them, until he reached the upper floor.

Now, this was more like it!

There were fluffy red carpets here, fewer guards, and lavish decorations such as flowers, paintings, vases, figurines, my… Astarion should have brought a bag.
And of course there were the nobles he was hoping to blend in with.

A few esteemed lords and ladies admiring the luxury or sitting at desks reading and writing, lounging in sofas and sipping wine from crystal glasses.

Astarion was still invisible, but he knew it wouldn’t last forever. And when the potion stopped working, he’d rather it not happen while he was standing anywhere too obvious.
So, he walked down the hallway, keeping to the walls, when someone exited a door to his left, and briskly walked out.

Astarion froze when he recognized Wyll.
Fuck, what was the monster hunter doing here?
Fuck, he was coming right towards him.

Astarion backed away a bit too hastily and bumped into a pillar.

Wyll stopped, frowning. „Who’s there?“ He followed the noise, Astarion fleeing as gracefully and quietly as he could, anything to not have the hunter find him out. „If that’s you, Florrick, for the last time, I said no! I‘m not like…!“

Fuck! Astarion fumbled for the vial with the sneeze dust, opened it and blew it towards Wyll, just a smidgen, nothing to arouse too much suspicion.

The hunter stopped mid-sentence, scrunching his eyes, his nose, his whole face.
Quickly, Astarion made a getaway to the other side of the hall, just in time for Wyll to throw a sneezing fit.

Hilariously, he sneezed like a little girl.

Astarion would have laughed, but this was the exact moment the invisibility potion stopped working.

It was lucky, then, that most people’s attention was now solely focussed on Wyll‘s adorable sneezing.

Astarion grinned as he walked towards a window, his only care now being outside Wyll‘s field of view.

As the hunter left the grand room, Astarion walked the other way, boldly making eye contact with several of the nobles and guards mingling here.
Eyes were on him, surely, but no-one seemed to doubt he belonged here with them, among the elite. Pretentious idiots. It served them right that Astarion was about to steal from them.
An old bag of a lady (a half elf) was giving Astarion bedroom eyes, so he walked up to her, chuckling a bit. Maybe he shouldn’t go for the easiest of the prey, but old habits died hard.

„My, I hope this gentleman didn’t come down with a cold.“

„Allergies“, she replied as she turned towards him. „They come on this time of the year. Pardon me, but I don’t believe I‘ve seen you here before. And I think I would remember“, she added with a wink.

„Oh, yes, it’s my first time. I‘m meant to meet the young lord Stone-Oak. Tragic that his mother left us so soon. She was such a good friend to the family.“ Was that good? Yes, that was very good! Astarion was on a roll tonight.

„Ah yes, very tragic“, she agreed. „He’s been quite distraught, as have we all. He’s barely left his rooms since he arrived.“

„Aw“, Astarion said. „Yes, I‘d love to give my condolences, at least. But I‘d best not disturb him.“

„Oh, but maybe you could cheer him up“, the old lady replied as she took him by the elbow and turned him around. „Up that corridor, the fourth door.“ Of course she used the opportunity to grope him just a little, a hand sliding just a little too low along his back. „And… my room is the second down the same corridor. Just in case young lord Stone-Oak doesn’t appreciate your company, I‘m sure I will.“

Good gods.

Astarion forced himself to smile. If he was gonna steal 500 gold, might as well take it from her. „Oh, are you now?“ He raised her wrinkly hand to his lips. There were rings upon rings sparkling on her fingers. And a wedding ring. „Well, how could I say no?“ He brushed her knuckles with his lips, a feather touch that was sure to have her shiver. „But you’ll have to excuse me, for now. I have to mingle a bit.“

„I‘m sure you do“, she purred. „Make your rounds, then. I‘ll be ready for you.“

Astarion supressed a shudder, but kept smiling as he excused himself. There was technically no need for him to mingle, but if there was a way he could avoid being touched by the old bag any more, he would.

As he turned away, he noticed several of the other ladies and gentlemen throwing longing glances his way, but most importantly Wyll had left by now. He was free to wander and think in peace.

The necklace Raphael wanted him to steal had to be his priority. Of course the owner was supposedly sulking away in the very same room, so a subtle theft was quite unlikely.
Astarion could of course poison him.
Or just cut his throat.

Astarion threw a glance towards the woman, thinking about how to handle her best. For him, the ideal outcome involved getting everything done before she entered her room to wait for him.

Astarion checked the time on his ring. It was already well past midnight. Sunrise was maybe four hours away. Certainly a strange time to be knocking on anyone’s doors. Or mingle. But nobles did the strangest things. Probably something about not needing to work.
Perhaps the young lord was sleeping, and he could just break in unnoticed. Get the necklace and any valuables nice and quiet, no fuss, no mess.
He could always go back to the old woman’s room afterwards.

He supposed it was a plan. Or at least a concept of a plan.
Which was better than nothing.

So, Astarion checked whether the old bag was watching, then made his way over to the door. The fourth one, she had said. Astarion found it with no issue, knelt down and tried peeking through the keyhole. But the view was blocked, fuck. Probably by the key. So, if Astarion picked the lock, the key might fall out and alert the young lord.

Astarion bit his lip, frustrated. Maybe he wasn’t even in there right now.
But maybe he was.

Astarion pressed a pointy ear to the door, listening. He heard someone softly snore.
He‘d just have to risk picking the lock. If worse came to worst, he’d just stab him. He got plenty of knives for just that purpose.

So, Astarion got to work, pulling the tools from the pockets in his sleeves and inserting them into the lock.
He carefully wriggled and pushed until the key fell out with a muffled clink, then he waited for a reaction from the sleeping man inside.

Nothing, not even a rustle of clothes or an interruption of the steady snoring.

Astarion continued working the tools, finally pushing aside the locking mechanism. He opened the door with a near soundless click, and entered the room.

It was larger than he had expected, with a beautiful patterned carpet, a stained glass window, a spacious desk, a wardrobe and a chest at the end of the huge double bed.
And in that bed slumbered the young lord Stone-Oak.

He was a sad looking young human man, with a disappointing beard and a receding chin, deep purple bags under his eyes, and an upturned nose with a fair share of pimples. His face was wet and red, as if he cried himself to sleep.

Astarion would have an easy time seducing him, should he have to. The lad reeked of insecurity and low self esteem.

Now, he thought, if I was this ugly duckling, where would I hide the necklace of my late beloved mother?

His eyes found the nightstand drawer.

Astarion tried gently opening it, but found it locked. He sighed, getting his tools ready again. He was sitting right next to the bed. If the lordling awoke, he’d be spotted instantly. Astarion really didn’t want to risk it.

And, well… he hadn’t fed today.

He could just drain him dry in his sleep. He‘d be none the wiser, and Astarion would have his meal and freedom to pilfer whatever he wanted from his room, and take his time.
Astarion licked his lips, eyeing the young lord’s jugular vein.
His fangs extended as his vampiric hunger quickly begun to smother every other thought he might have had.
He was, after all, always hungry.
But maybe there was time to lock the door first.

Astarion quickly locked the door from the inside and tucked away his tools. He wouldn’t be needing them.
Then he snuck back over to the bed and sat on the edge, pulling his lips back and leaning over the sleeping form.

He found the right spot to bite by instinct, tongue ghosting over the warm skim, tasting a faint note of bitter perfume, sweat and tears.
He felt a strong pulse hum against his lips, just there, so close. Then he bit down, fangs piercing soft skin, fingers digging into the bedding.

Fuck, for someone so unremarkable, the boy tasted divine. It was in the taste of skin mingling with the blood, it was the feeling of the pulse speeding up slightly, the living beating heart pumping mouthful after mouthful straight to where he was feeding.

It was bedazzling, mindnumbing, and suddenly there was a beast stirring within him.
One that itched to bite down tighter, to tear and rip, to paint the whole room red, and gorge itself, to bathe in warm and dripping vidcera…

Astarion teetered on the edge of surrendering to that monster within him. It was difficult to grapple with, after it had been leashed for so long, but Astarion resisted.
He did so just barely, and with no small amount of confusion as to why.

He was allowed to kill, so long as he wasn’t seen. Maybe he felt like doing this without killing anyone proved his skill was exceeding expectations?
And if he could avoid messing up his new equipment… oh well.

Astarion drank as cleanly as he could, until he felt the boy‘s heartbeat start to flutter. Then he withdrew.

„Thank you, darling“, he whispered as he sat back up.

The lordling groaned, eyelids fluttering, then fell unconscious. The bloodloss would have him out until well beyond sunrise.

Astarion smiled and donned the healing potion, using nothing more than a few drops on the neat twin puncture wounds on his neck.
The bite healed up within seconds, and Astarion was free to save the rest of the potion.

He then searched the lad‘s pockets and found a tiny key which looked like it would fit just right into that lock on the nightstand, aaaaand… perfect.

With a click, the drawer opened, and Astarion immediately knew he had found what he was looking for.
The priceless necklace was just sitting there, on top of a pile of papers and books.

Really, it was practically begging to be stolen.

Astarion took the sparkling necklace, admiring its considerable weight, then put it on. It was really a garish and cumbersome thing, heavy and fashionable… well, maybe before Astarion‘s time.

But as he put it around his neck, a deep sense of relief washed over him.

He had done it. Raphael would be pleased with him.

Now he could get to stealing everything else he wanted. Astarion helped himself to a pretty bag and took the lordling‘s purse (nice and heavy), emptied a handful of gems and crystals into it, and after some comsideration, took the letters and booklets from the nightstand as well. Just in case he needed reading material.

Next, he took a few rings and a gold amulet, a fashionable cravat with silvery seams, and a crystal bottle of cologne. Not because he liked the scent, gods no. But the bottle itself might fetch a pretty copper.

Then, Astarion climbed over the bed and the unconscious shape of the young lord, and over to the window. If he could climb out and over two windows to the old lady‘s room, there‘d be more loot for him, though perhaps he already had enough to pay the Mamzell.

Better safe than sorry.

Also, the old bag deserved it, just for groping him like that.
He opened the window and slipped outside onto a narrow windowsill, back pressed against the wall.
Fuck, it was a deep way down into the ocean, which would kill a vampire spawn like him.
Shaking just a bit, Astarion inched along the wall and past the first window.

Then, the stone beneath his foot cracked and fell away. Astarion, jumping out of his skin, scrambled and scrabbled at the wall, desperate to hold on.

Only to find, after a few panicked seconds, that he didn‘t find it at all difficult to keep his grip.
He opened his eyes to look, only to find himself sticking to the wall like some oversized bug.
Astarion stayed there, frozen in bemused terror as he stared into the abyss below.

Should he call for Raphael? Surely the devil wouldn‘t mind… picking him up?

But no, Astarion should be able to just… move along the wall.
Whatever exactly he was doing, it wasn‘t hard, so… might as well make the most of it.

He took a deep, albeit unnecessary, breath, and turned around, so that he was holding on with just one hand for a terrifying second or two.
Then he crawled along the wall, ignoring gravity and moving more efficiently than he ought to.

He quickly reached the old woman’s rooms, and to his delight, they were still empty.

Astarion selected a slender dagger and wedged it into the small gap between the window and its frame, then wiggled it open, using his weapon as a wedge.
The glass broke, but didn‘t shatter.
Good.

Astarion wriggled inside, and was immediately overwhelmed by the biting scent of dozens of perfumes, heavy and cloying, almost making his eyes water.

First he needed to make sure he wasn’t disturbed, so he wedged a chair beneath the doorknob, then got to searching the room for anything valuable he could get his hands on.

There was a lot.

Astarion found no less than 15 necklaces and amulets, one ring for each finger, several gems of all colours, and a purse with 478 gold.

He took everything he could carry, until his neck was heavy with the weight of the necklaces, and his fingers clumsy because of the rings. The rest, he put into his bag.

Finally, he was done.
Astarion pulled the chair back, then went back to the window.
If this cloak did what it promised, he should be able to glide safely over the the roof of Sharess‘ Caress.
He was up high enough, he was sure.
It was a dark and moonless night, so the cloak should work.

Nervously he peeked down, then over to the roof he was aiming for. His hands grasped the edges of the cloak. He just had to spread his arms and pretend the cloak was his wings.
Astarion took a deep steadying breath, then he jumped.
His last thought as his feet left the windowsill was that Haarlep better hadn’t lied about the cloak and what it’s capabilities were.

Astarion fell like a stone, plummeting towards the water below, but only for one mortifying moment.
Then the cloak caught the air and he swooped over the cliff and the ocean toward Wyrm‘s crossing.

The cloak worked, thank the gods.

And what fun it was to simply glide through the air instead of taking all those pesky stairs.

He really should do this more often, he thought as he gently landed on the roof, slipping just a little on a loose roof tile.

Astarion turned around with a bold laugh so that he could face the fortress he‘d just escaped.

He’d robbed two nobles, crossed paths with a damn vampire hunter, fed on someone, leapt out a window, and lived to tell the tale.

Astarion checked the time on his ring. Still plenty of time until sunrise.

He took off the rings and necklaces and put them in his loot bag, just to seem more inconspicuous.

Then he counted the 500 Gold into a purse and selected a ring with a large purple gem.
He found it would fit the Mamzell.

He‘d give it to her as a show of good faith.

Chapter Text

Astarion leapt from the roof and onto the large balcony, then reentered the brothel. Without even a glance to the men and women drinking there and staring at him, he stepped up to the Mamzell.

„Hello again, darling.“

She looked at him with no small degree of surprise. „You got some nerve. Should I call my…“

„No need“, Astarion interrupted her, raising a hand. „I did promised you fair compensation for not mentioning me to those people asking for me. So, here’s 500 Gold. Counted it out exactly, just for you.“

The Mamzell accepted the purse he put into her hand, only glancing inside. „I have to say… I‘m surprised you showed up at all.“

„Perhaps you misjudged me“, Astarion said mildly. „Overall, I‘d rather be in your good books.“

With one final look at the purse, the Mamzell nodded. „You are, that I promise you. None will know you were ever here. And if you changed your ways, I‘ll even welcome you back here whenever you wish.“ She smirked towards the ground. „If only for her sake.“

In that moment, Astarion felt the cat once again snuggle up to his leg.

Astarion offered her the ring. „I… I‘d like you to have this, as well. Consider it my apology for seducing some of your customers. I swear, it won’t happen again.“

„Won’t it?“

„I‘m done with that life“, Astarion said solemnly.

The Mamzell sighed. „Hm. Almost a shame. I might have hired you.“

„I‘ll… take that as a compliment“, Astarion chuckled. „I have to go, darling.“

„Tell that to her“, she replied, smirking at the cat. „I think your suit might suffer if you don’t take care of her, now.“ She slipped the ring on her finger. It did indeed suit her as well as Astarion had hoped. „Good luck, then. If you need a safe place, don’t hesitate to come by. Kira will appreciate it.“

Astarion watched her slip into the crowd, then finally crouched to pet the cat. „So, your name is Kira. Fitting. It’s just as pretty as you.“

The cat began to purr and gently nibble at his fingers, licking them.

„Thank you, darling“, Astarion commented her grooming him. „Aren’t you a joy?“

Kira nudged his hand until he gave her a good scritch behind the ears.

„I can’t stay“, he told her. „But I might be back soon. Will you let me leave, yes? Without scratching up my trousers? Thank you, that’s nice.“

Astarion stood and walked up the stairs. The cat followed him, until he picked her up and went back down.
„One more favour, darling Mamzell?“ He said, his voice muffled behind a mass of fur as Kira pressed up to him, swishing her tail through his face. „I‘m afraid you‘ll have to hold her for just a bit.“

She laughed and took the cat from him. „She‘s always liked you, for some reason. Go on now, quick.“ She soothed at the animal, holding it like a babe, rocking her back and forth, as Astarion slipped away.

Quickly he went back upstairs, dodging the people mingling there, then it was back out and onto the balcony. From here, he easily reached the boudoir closest to where the portal had spat him out.

Astarion took a deep breath and checked his loot bag for the necklace Raphael had sent him to retrieve, then put it back around his neck. Not because it was pretty, gods no, but because this way, the devil would see he had been successful as soon as he laid eyes on him.

Then, Astarion whispered: „Raphael?“ How did this work? Was he just supposed to tell he was done to the empty space? „Uh… I have the necklace. You can get me now.“ He unconsciously touched his neck as he spoke, hoping the fiend would hear.

After a few tense moments of silence, a portal hummed to life in the boudoir behind him.

Astarion made a run for it, eager to be done with his first mission, but just as he reached it, Raphael stepped out to meet him.

He was wearing his human form, but that wouldn’t make literally running into him any more pleasant.

Astarion drew to a sudden halt and stopped just an inch or so in front of the devil.
Raphael quickly closed even that distance, by grasping him around the collar and pulling him close.

„I see your mission has been a success“,
the devil purred with a slight smile, his thumb running along the gems of the necklace. „And what a fine job you did, indeed. Come.“

He turned around and dragged Astarion with him, who had to awkwardly hobble to keep up. This was… concerning. If Astarion had done well, why did it feel like he was about to be punished?

„Did I…“, he stammered, his confidence quickly evaporating into a blinding fog of fear. Was Raphael displeased because… because he fed on someone? Because he stole from the old woman? Because he paid the Mamzell? What else was there? „Did I do something wrong?“

Raphael gave a low chuckle. „Why would you think that?“

Astarion tried to think of a smart reply, but was yanked through the portal the next second. Raphael transformed back into his fiendish form, his grip stronger, and hot.

Stumbling, he hung on to the devil’s arm, just to keep his balance and maybe lessen the force Raphael was using on him. „Please…!“, he squealed as he almost lost his balance.

The devil didn’t relent, pulling him through the hallway and into boudoir.
Only there, he released Astarion, went over to his desk, sat, and filled up a goblet of wine for himself.

Astarion stared at him, rubbing at his collar where Raphael had grasped him.
„What in the hells was that?“

The fiend ignored the question. „Tell me: How did the lordling taste?“ He took a sip of his wine.

„What?“ Astarion froze. How the hells did Raphael know? Had he made a mistake taking a meal from him?

„I figure he tasted… watery, no? He looked like he must have.“

Astarion stammered: „He tasted… just fine.“

„Oh? That’s good.“ Raphael took another sip, then set the goblet aside and folded his hands in his lap. „Now then, tell me of your mission. Every detail.“

„But… you… Hang on, don’t you already know what happened?“

„Of course. But I like to hear your voice. So, every detail, if you please.“

Astarion glowered. „Fine. Should I make it as dramatic as possible for you? Embellish it with jokes?“

„I might find some less insolence agreeable“, the devil growled.

„Fine!“, Astarion spat, throwing his hands up. „Your portal brought me to Sharess‘ Caress, a place I‘d rather hoped not to visit ever again. I was assaulted by the Mamzell, and her cat as well. Got hair all over this lovely armor.“

Raphael smirked at this, but remained quiet, letting Astarion ramble on.

„And I had to convince her not to detain me and hand me over to, who I assume, are my siblings and Cazador. Then I had a fabulous time sneaking into the upper levels of the fortress while invisible, where the vampire hunter who almost killed me mere days ago, practically ran into me. I used the sneeze dust you so graciously provided for me.“

The devil gestured for him to continue, mouth twitching in amusement.

„Then I debased myself letting some bag of bones cozy up to me, all to get some information on where your lordling was sleeping away. Not a pleasant experience, either.“

„You seemed rather in your element“, Raphael commented, his tone neutral.

The remark hurt, because Astarion knew the devil was right. Quietly, he replied: „Well, I had no choice.“

„Go on“, the devil said idly.

„As if you don’t know the rest“, Astarion muttered. „Fine. I broke into the lordling‘s room, bit him, then stole the necklace. It was just sitting in his nightstand drawer. I stole every other valuable I could find, too. Is that it? Was I supposed to leave everything except your necklace?“

Raphael calmly refilled his goblet. „I never said that, pet. Continue.“

„And after I was done, I climbed over to the old woman’s room, and stole every valuable I could find.“ Astarion paused. „Say. Is it at all possible this… boon you said you’d grant me… that it allowed me to walk along the wall?“

„I‘d be surprised if the boon had already manifested“, Raphael replied.

Astarion frowned. „But then… how didn‘t I fall?“

„How, indeed?“, chuckled the devil.
„Did you have something to do with it?“, asked Astarion.

„Sweetling“, Raphael said. „In your 200 years of un-life, have you never been fed enough to utilise your vampiric abilities?“ When Astarion only stared at him in disbelief, Raphael picked up a book from his table, and leafed through it.
„Luckily for us both, I read up on your kind, before I decided to take you into my service. Ah, here.“ The devil began quoting directly from the book.
„The vampire spawn quickly regenerates from any injuries, but not while standing in running water or sunlight. Furthermore, they show supernatural physical strength and speed, and an ability to use the spider climb spell at will.“ He closed the book and grinned up at Astarion. „There you have it.“

„That can’t be real!“, Astarion blurted out. „You‘d think I‘d have seen one of my siblings do it, or Cazador, or, hells…“ He shook his head. „You’re right. He barely allowed any of us to feed. So, you mean to be telling me I could just…“ He walked towards the wall, fully intending to walk up it, but there was a sudden tug around his neck, an invisible collar pulling him back.

Raphael was watching him with narrowed eyes. „If I find but one footprint on my walls, vampling, I shall cut off your feet and feed them to my imps.“

„No spider climbing in your house, got it!“, Astarion squealed, rubbing his neck.

„Good. Now, you weren’t done with your report yet, were you?“

„Erm…“ Astarion thought back to how he dangled over the ocean, and shook himself. „Right. I broke into the old woman’s room from the outside and stole everything I could find from her. Then I used this marvellous cloak you provided for me, and jumped put the window and simply flew over to Sharess‘ Caress. It was easy, really.“

„Was it?“

„Yes, hardly a challenge.“ Astarion waved a hand. „I got more than enough gold to make sure Sharess‘ Caress remains safe for me. With the portal being there, and all.“

„A smart move“, Raphael agreed. „You truly did admirably well.“ He smiled. „In fact, I think a reward is in order.“

That promise should have filled Astarion with pride, joy, maybe even hope. But all he felt was dread. There was a strange hungry gleam in the devil’s eyes, like he was looking forward to devouring Astarion in the most literal sense. Just like that, Astarion went from feeling like a true predator to cowering prey.
„That’s… that’s quite alright“, he said, trying to sound flippant, but it ended up coming out too fast.

Raphael showed some teeth as his smile widened. „No, I insist.“

He stood and slowly prowled over to him, tail swishing in the air. Astarion couldn’t tell if it was playfulness of irritation. Perhaps just a bit of both? Hopefully not too much irritation.

Astarion, although he very much felt like running away, remained where he was, eyes fixed on the polished floor. As the devil drew closer, he began frantically counting the lines of the marbling pattern, trying to stay calm. Whatever was coming, he wouldn’t stop it by trying to run or fight, and although the devil liked to hear him plead, it wouldn’t do anything to help Astarion’s situation.

Raphael stopped his frantic train of thought by grasping his chin and lifting his chin to meet his eyes.
„You reek of that brothel“, he said, nose wrinkling. „Take off your clothes. You’re taking a bath.“

Astarion squirmed, but Raphael had already released him and went over to the pool.
Astarion was staring at his broad back until he realized the devil was undoing his shirt.

Just as Astarion was beginning to wonder just how the devil was planning to get the shirt off (wings), there was a sharp snap and Raphael’s clothes disappeared into thin air, leaving him naked.

The iron hard muscle danced beneath dark red skin as he flexed his wings and stepped into the pool. Steam rose from the water as it came into contact with him. With a deep sigh, Raphael sank into the water, tipping his head back to rest on the edge.

It took Astarion several seconds to realize he was still staring.

Raphael raised a hand from the water and waved him over, head still resting on the edge of the pool, eyes closed in bliss. „I suggest you undress before you get in. If it helps: I won’t look, pet.“

Astarion swallowed, suddenly awfully aware of the fact that the devil had watched him bathe before. There really was no reason for coyness. Or for hesitation. Whatever the devil wanted… was what would happen.

Astarion sighed and took off his clothes. It felt an awful lot like the countless times he had done it for Cazador or one of his victims. He had expected this when he had signed the contract, and honestly he was surprised it had taken until now. But it still didn‘t make the prospect any less terrifying.

To Raphael’s credit, he really wasn’t looking, face tilted towards the ceiling, eyes closed.
Weirdly, it stung just a little.
Astarion had expected Raphael to at least try and sneak a peak.
Nothing more than that.

As quietly as he could, he snuck over to the pool and entered it opposite of the devil. He nearly slipped and fell in as his gaze got caught by Raphael’s throat, beautifully exposed as his head was laid back.

Astarion’s mouth began to water immediately, fangs sliding further out of their sheathes.

If some sad lordling tasted like heaven, what would a devil taste like?

Eyeing the elegant column of his throat, Astarion began fantasising about whiskey and spices, his teeth aching in the rhythm of Raphael’s steady pulse.
Fuck, he could see it from all the way over here, that throbbing thick vein he was aching to sink his fangs into.

„It’s rude to stare“, Raphael murmured, head still tilted back.

The way his throat moved as he spoke nearly drove Astarion mad with hunger.

Slowly, the devil raised his head and met Astarion‘s gaze with a knowing smile. „Still hungry after drinking your fill earlier?“

Astarion swallowed the saliva that had accumulated, tasting a slight bite of venom on his tongue, one he only knew from Cazador.
Had the frequent feedings awoken his own ability to produce it? Perhaps that was how he’d been able to bite the lordling without waking him.

„Well, if you won’t stop staring, come here“, Raphael chuckled, beckoning him with a finger.

Astarion obeyed. Though reluctant to get anywhere too close to the devil, he was still salivating, his body urging, screaming at him to bite Raphael. And for that, well, he needed to get close.

As soon as he got as within reach, the fiend grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his chest.

Astarion gasped as he was sat on the devil’s lap, far too close for comfort. The next moment he hastily covered his mouth with a hand and lowered his head. Certainly Raphael wouldn’t appreciate Astarion drooling over him with huge fangs ready to bite into him.

Gently, Raphael lowered his hand, revealing the eager dripping fangs. „Let me see.“

Fuck, this was embarrassing. „Just give me a second“, Astarion said, squirming. „Please. I don’t…“

Without ceremony, Raphael peeled Astarion’s upper lip back to reveal the fangs, causing him to sputter and draw back. But the devil held him in place with a hand on the back of his neck.
Astarion wasn’t used to being examined quite like this, and he froze up, eyes wide with fear.

For so long, his survival had depended on his ability to conceal his vampiric nature.

And here Raphael was just… getting a good long look just to satisfy a curious whim.

„I didn‘t know they grew“, Raphael said slowly. „Quite interesting. Open up, now.“ The command was gentle, but still it was a command.

Astarion obeyed, though he wished nothing more than to sink beneath the water forever.

The devil traced the points of his fangs with his finger, and damn it… his skin had no right to taste this good.

Astarion wanted to bite down more than anything, to taste the fiend and eat him up, right here and now.
In fact, Astarion was physically shaking with the effort not to bite.

Raphael was so close, Astarion’s fangs grazing over his skin. It would be so easy to just get a taste.
But Astarion feared what the devil might to to him if he gave in.

Saliva and venom were dripping down his chin, and running down Raphael’s arm. It would have been embarrassing, had Astarion not been so desperate to just contain his hunger.

Biting his patron was a bad idea, he had to repeat that mantra to himself, trying to close off his senses to the scent and taste of warm, living skin just beneath his fangs.

Raphael chuckled as he pushed open his mouth a little wider with his thumb, the other fingers caressing his cheek and ear. „You really are tame as a fawn.“

A fawn? Rude. Astarion tried a growl, but was cut off when Raphael patted the side of his face.

„You want to have a taste, don’t you?“

Astarion whimpered. There was no way Raphael couldn’t smell his despair.

With both hands he pushed at Raphael’s chest, trying to communicate he wanted away, but the devil only held him closer.

„What’s keeping you from biting me, pet?“ Raphael asked, his face only an inch or so away. „ Certainly not me, and not your old master, either.“

Astarion would have answered, but couldn’t with Raphael’s thumb still caressing his fangs. Her really wasn’t feeling up for this challenge after everything he’d done today.

But gradually, his despair began to burn away in a simmering rage fanned to life by fear, helplessness, and general indignation.

Astarion was no lamb.

Him biting was probably exactly what Raphael wanted, and he’d punish him for the impertinence.

But could he be quicker than Astarion could get a taste?

It really wasn’t worth the punishment, was it?

Was it?

Astarion made eye contact, hoping his anger properly translated as he was sitting in Raphael’s lap, naked and drooling with a thumb hooked in his mouth.
Then he closed his jaws, slowly, threatening to bite, hoping Raphael would withdraw his hand.

The devil chuckled. „Oh, what’s this? Have you got some bite left in you, after all?“ He did not withdraw his hand. „Show me, go on.“

Astarion shivered, torn between defiance and the desire to show Raphael he wasn’t some tame lamb, and the overwhelming fear and respect he had for the devil.

He made his choice when Raphael pressed the pad of his thumb against the tip of his fang, biting down fast and hard as a viper.

Blood came gushing out of the wound, far more than Astarion had anticipated.

It was everything he had thought it would be. The taste was spicy, sweet and biting like strong alcohol, smoke and incense. It was amazing, mind-numbingly so.
There was a note of… Astarion couldn’t quite taste it…

Oh, it was pain.
The blood was boiling hot.

Astarion cursed and tried spitting out the devil’s hand, but Raphael had already pulled it back, cupped his face in a searing grip, then pressed a burning, open mouthed kiss to his lips, swallowing his yelp of surprise.

Truth be told: Raphael wasn‘t a good kisser.

He was sloppy, there were far too many sharp teeth, he stuck his tongue deep enough to almost make him gag, and the pressure he applied bordered on painful.

But that heat. The way he clutched him close like he was something precious. Those mighty red wings slowly enclosing him, cutting off everything that wasn’t Astarion and Raphael’s burning hot kiss.

Astarion couldn’t help but melt into the devil, grasping for his chest just to hold on to something. He felt warm for the first time in… he didn‘t even remember how long. And it was glorious.

Just as Astarion had made peace with completely losing himself in the kiss, Raphael abruptly withdrew, grasping a handful of his white locks to keep his head tilted back.

„There you are“, he chuckled. „Marvellous. I‘ll put that bite to good use, pet.“

Astarion stared up at him, out of breath. „You… what?“ He swallowed, trying to get rid of the burning sensation in his mouth. „What are you doing?“

The devil grinned indulgently. „I told you. A reward for your performance tonight.“

„It doesn’t feel like a reward“, Astarion admitted, wiping the saliva off his chin. „I‘d rather just get clean and… I don’t know… rest.“

„That can be arranged“, Raphael purred. He swiftly rearranged Astarion so he sat with his back against his chest, his claws gently raking over his ribs as he held him in place.

Astarion shuddered, dreading just what exactly the devil was planning.

„So tense still“, Raphael said. „What do you think I‘ll do to you, pet? Haven’t I told you I‘m pleased with you? Haven’t I been kind to you thus far?“

Astarion didn‘t know how to reply to that. Yes and no, most likely. It hadn’t been a cakewalk, but he‘d been far from comfortable, and he didn‘t feel safe not knowing when the mood would strike the devil, and he’d flip on him.

Everyone eventually did.

When he received no answer, Raphael resumed stroking his ribs. „You‘ve put on some weight already. It quite suits you. I can barely see your bones.“ He sounded gentle, caring, almost.

Clearly it was supposed to flatter him, but Astarion couldn’t quite bring himself to accept the compliment. Somewhere in there, there was a threat, or ridicule, or the whole act was meant to make him think he was safe. There had to be a catch.

Raphael stopped petting him. „Do I have to hold you here, or will you stay?“

„I‘ll stay“, Astarion said, voice hollow.

„Let‘s see if you can be a good boy, then“, the devil said as he slowly released his grip. „As much as I enjoy the scent of your fear, try to relax, pet. And enjoy.“

Astarion tried surrendering to Raphael’s touch as he began lathering his chest and stomach in a fragrant soap. Notes of cherries, cinnamon and musk filled the room, and Astarion found he genuinely liked the scent.

„Did you enjoy the taste of my blood?“, asked Raphael. „You seemed… eager to have a taste, to say the least.“

„Do you really need to ask?“, Astarion replied crossly. „Nearly burned my tongue off.“

„It was quite amusing to watch“, said Raphael as he rubbed the soap into his skin. „But what’s a little pain? How many vampires do you think tasted a devil of the nine hells? You should feel honoured.“

Astarion opened his mouth to answer, but the devil ran his hands over his chest, earning a soft gasp instead.

This… shouldn’t feel this good.
This was wrong.

Astarion was shivering with fear, even though this wasn’t new to him. It was Raphael’s unpredictability that had him on edge.
His body wanted to lean into the devil, to grind down and claim Raphael before he could claim him.
But the devil had rejected him before. He enjoyed seeing him scared and shaken.
Astarion had no idea whether he’d be savaged, ignored or embraced.

Raphael washed every inch of him with the utmost care, and finally got to his hair.

„If you wouldn’t mind…“, Astarion managed. „My hair needs… um… special attention. I‘d much rather take care of it myself.“

„Hm, no“, Raphael replied. „I quite like doing this.“

„I‘ll look a mess tomorrow if you keep going.“

„Then so it shall be“, said the devil. „Hold still, will you?“

Astarion huffed but brooded in silence as Raphael massaged a product into his hair. It felt good to have the claws scratch at his scalp, but gently. Who knew a devil could be like this?

„Hold your breath“, Raphael warned before he scooted deeper into the pool and leaned back with Astarion, until they were both submerged.

After a few seconds he pulled them both back up and sat back against the pool‘s edge.
Astarion rubbed the water from his eyes, but the fiend had already taken him by the chin to look at his face.

„You’re adorable like this“, said Raphael, playing with a strand of white hair. It sounded genuine, but Astarion still took it as an insult.

„I‘m sure I am“, Astarion flippantly. „Now, can we finish this up already?“

„We’re done when I say so“, Raphael said as he pulled Astarion in until his back rested at his chest again.

A large red hand travelled up his chest and over the column of his throat, and finally over his face, until it covered his eyes, blinding him.
Astarion wanted to squirm away, but thought better of it, allowing Raphael to tilt back his head until it rested on his shoulder.
A moment later, his warm lips were brushing along his ear.
„Aw, pet. Are you still frightened?“, he murmured, his voice sending shivers down his spine.

„N…no?“, Astarion tried, but the tremble in his voice betrayed the lie. He hated having his eyes covered. Being comfortable with it required absolute trust. Trust that Astarion wasn’t prepared to show to anyone.
And feeling Raphael’s lips ghost over his ear, making him shiver with lust.

The devil kept Astarion’s eyes covered with one hand. „You can’t accept this as a reward, can you? Then, perhaps, as a lesson.“

„No, I…“ Astarion said hastily. „No, I do! This… I… a reward is good. This is good!“

„Didn‘t I tell you not to lie to me?“

Good gods, Astarion couldn’t tell if it was a growl or a purr. The devil was even more unpredictable when Astarion couldn’t see his expression.

„You did. But I‘m fairly sure you wouldn’t like the truth, either“, Astarion said, voice almost breaking.

„And what truth is that?“

„I… I suppose you know I‘m scared to death of you.“

„That much is evident.“ Raphael was stroking up his stomach. „So, how about a lesson in trust?“

Fuck, that did not sound good. Astarion really wasn’t up for these mind games. His position right now couldn’t be more precarious. Naked in a pool with an equally naked devil, held against his chest with his eyes covered and throat exposed and his hair soaking wet.

A lesson in trust, was it? It seemed Astarion had little choice but to play along.

„You’re saying you won’t hurt me?“, Astarion asked.

„I said nothing of the sort“, Raphael replied with an amused huff. „Relax already. You might enjoy this.“

Well if that was so.
It all sounded a lot like Cazador‘s mind games. Ordering him to enjoy debasement, ordering him to like being fucked bloody, to beg for more, to be torn open and still act like a wanton whore who loved nothing more than pain for his partner’s maximum pleasure.

If Raphael at least let him hate what he was about to do, Astarion believed he could handle it.

As he slowly relaxed his body, Raphael resumed petting him, whispering praise.

„Very good, pet.“

The caress of his claws was gentle, but Astarion shivered nonetheless. Eventually the devil’s hand traveled beneath the surface of the water and over his hip, then lower to his thigh. Astarion flinched, but Raphael shushed him, the hand over his eyes clamping down tighter wringing a gasp from his throat.

The hand travelled lower and finally, to Astarion’s surprise, closed around the wrist of his left hand. Raphael raised it out of the water and to his lips, kissing the ring burned into his finger. He did it slowly like a lover might.

„You really are the most exquisite creature“, murmured Raphael. „The ring suits you beautifully.“

„Thank you…?“, replied Astarion, but it came out more like a question.

The devil chuckled. „Isn’t this nice?“ He shifted his weight, causing Astarion to slide back and into the fiend’s groin. Raphael was hard, Astarion could feel him against his lower back. „I could get used to sharing a bath with you.“ He released his hand, then rested his hand back at Astarion‘s chest, grazing his nipples.

It shouldn’t have felt this good.

Astarion shuddered, trying to decide whether to give in or fight his desire. He couldn’t stop Raphael, no matter his feelings on the matter. What was there to gain, really, by resisting this any longer? Astarion knew sex better than most. It really wasn’t anything to be afraid of.

Devil or not, Raphael was only a man.

So, Astarion turned his head (as far as he was able to), until his lips brushed the devils cheek. His hand rose from the water, reaching behind for Raphael’s head.
He caressed his hair and cheek, arching his back in a way he knew would set the devil on edge.

Yes, it would hurt like the hells, but Astarion might just get the upper hand.
Play the devil, even.

A low rumble reverberated in Raphael’s chest, his free hand caressing his sternum, stomach, hip, then back up to gently stroke his shoulders.

Astarion was left with no choice but to endure this exploration of his body. He didn‘t exactly like it, but it was better than being torn open and having his insides admired, as Cazador had done on a few special occasions.

Pretending to enjoy what Raphael was doing was easy.

The devil went on to stroke along Astarion’s lower belly, teasing just shy of groping him. When he finally got his hand between his legs, Astarion was shaking with pleasure. It felt good, much to his surprise. Raphael’s hand was so very warm.

Without the use of his eyes, every gentle caress with his claws was a surprise, terrifying and wonderful all at the same time.
Astarion held on to Raphael’s wrist.
He didn’t think he could stop him if his touch turned violent, but still it felt like just a bit more control.

Suddenly, Raphael lifted his hand from Astarion’s eyes, allowing him to see again. But he didn’t get to make much use of his newly regained sight, because now both of Raphael’s hands were at his ears, gently rubbing the sensitive tips between his fingers.

Within the blink of an eye, Astarion was an utter and complete mess. He managed the beginning of a protesting yelp, then he was practically screaming with pleasure, writhing in Raphael’s grip.

Instantly overstimulated, Astarion blindly grasped to get his hands on anything he could and ended up clawing at his own hair. He tried to speak, tried to beg for it to stop, to beg for more, but all that came out was a garbled moan. He was highly aware of the Raphael’s hard body pressed to his, and he gave in to him, unable to even resist anymore.

His eyes had rolled back in his head as pleasure gripped hold of his entire body, quickly unraveling the last of his common sense, and leaving it as disorganized pile somewhere in the back of his mind as he bucked into the water.

„Fuck!“, he heard himself shout. „Please…!“
It was too much, and at the same time not nearly enough.

At this moment he wanted nothing more than for Raphael to take him and grant him release.

The devil said something, but it was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. Then Raphael pulled back his head again and closed his mouth around his throat, biting down hard enough to cut off Astarion’s groan.

Suddenly Astarion felt he was extremely close to his climax, even though he hadn’t registered even being hard.

Astarion grabbed the devil by the horn and pulled him even closer, his grip bruising as he shivered and shook.

Then Raphael drew back, releasing his throat. He stopped rubbing his ears and instead took his chin in one hand to look at him.

Truth be told, Astarion would have just flopped beneath the water without any support holding him up.
He sagged, exhausted, against the devil, trying to catch his breath.

„So“, said Raphael reverently. „This is how pleasure looks on you. Beautiful.“

The devil released him and stood, still hard, then exited the pool. The water on him steamed away within seconds.

Astarion really did almost sag beneath the surface of the water (which would be fine since he couldn’t drown), but held on to the edge of the pool.
„Where…? What are you doing? What… what was that…?“, Astarion stammered, holding on to the edge for dear life.

„Oh, I‘m going to bed“, said Raphael easily. „You may finish your bath.“

Astarion stared at him in disbelief. „You…what? Now?“ There was disappointment, followerd very closely by indignantion, then anger.

„Yes. You may, of course join me“, Raphael said as he reclined into the pillows. „Otherwise, send in Haarlep. They‘re probably listening at the door as we speak.“

Astarion was still busy calming down and coming off the high the devil had just taken him to.

Had the devil just… invited him into his bed? And given him an option to say no?
What in the sweet hells did Astarion get himself into with this devil?
And more importantly… did he want to join
him?

Astarion was still almost painfully hard, and reeling from what the devil had just done to him. He needed more, for fuck‘s sake.
He just didn’t want to have to ask for it.
How dare Raphael take him to the very edge and then drop him with no warning?
Like he was some toy.
And… yes, the longer Astarion thought about it, that was probably how Raphael saw him. A new toy.

Fuck this.

Astarion got out of the pool, glowering at the devil on the bed. „If it really is all the same to you, devil, have fun with Haarlep. I‘m going to my room“, he spat.

Raphael barked a sharp laugh. „By all means. Get your rest, pet. After all, you’ve earned it.“ He curled his tail. „Sweet dreams, vampling.“

For a moment longer, Astarion looked at him in helpless rage, teeth bared, limbs shaking, them he grabbed for a towel, but the devil vanished it with a snap of his fingers. Astarion whipped around, snarling. „Stop it!“

„I strongly suggest you watch your tone, Astarion“, Raphael said calmly. „This once I‘ll give you the choice whether to come to my bed. I never said that choice would be without consequences. If you leave, you‘ll return to your room exactly as you are.“

Astarion shuddered hearing his name from the devil’s mouth. He stood there, naked, dripping, and still aroused despite his anger.

Raphael looked thoroughly pleased with himself. Clearly, in his mind, he had already won.

It made Astarion seriously consider coming to the devil after all, just because he probably wasn’t expecting it.

Instead, Astarion drew himself up and raised his head as proudly as he could.

Then he walked out, telling himself he was done playing Raphael’s game.

Chapter Text

Haarlep had indeed been eavesdropping, as Astarion immediately found out as he ripped the door open.
The incubus was wearing the form they had when they had spoken last.

They reeled back from the door in delayed attempt to look like they’d been leaning against the wall, bored.
„Oh!“, Haarlep yelped in overdone false surprise. „Oh, terribly sorry! Careful!“ Then they noticed Astarion‘s state of complete undress. „Oh“, they smirked.

„Raphael wants to see you“, Astarion said, then attempted to storm past the incubus, ignoring the way they stared to take in every inch of his naked form.

„Can’t imagine why“, Haarlep chuckled as they easily gripped Astarion’s arm. „Wait just one second, sweetling. Please“, they added when Astarion glowered at them, baring his teeth.

„I‘d rather just… go back to my room“, Astarion snarled. „Release me.“

„I will, but please think about this“, Haarlep said. „I can make you forget everything but your desire. Come with me, and your night with Raphael will be… you can’t even imagine! Wouldn’t you rather enjoy him, with me? Or rather cower beneath him, on your own some other time?“ They let go of his arm.

Astarion stayed where he was, staring at the incubus, shocked to find he was seriously considering the offer.

Haarlep continued, a smile curling the corner of their lip: „He‘s fickle, but he will have you, eventually. Soon, he’ll be bored of just playing with you. I doubt that would be pleasant for you, but now? I can help you! One kiss, and your fear will be… poof! Gone! I‘ll make sure this will be a most pleasurable experience for you.“

Astarion swallowed. While he‘d rather give in to have a less terrible first experience with the devil, relinquishing control to both Haarlep and Raphael scared him more than the prospect of facing Raphael alone. The incubus was charming, and their offer seemed reasonable, but maybe too much so. They probably had ulterior motives, after all they hadn’t made a secret of their desire for Astarion. If Astarion submitted to them, they’d be getting exactly what they wanted. And so would Raphael.

He backed away slowly. „No. No, you leave me be.“

Haarlep pouted. „Aw, don’t be like that. Come onnnn, this can be fun!“

„I don’t want fun!“, Astarion shouted, and immediately realized how stupid it sounded, so he added: „Don’t pretend this would be some… selfless act for my benefit!“

„I never said I wouldn’t benefit…“, the incubus smirked. „But why shouldn’t I? I promise you’ll enjoy this, isn’t that what’s most important?“

Astarion pressed his lips together and shook his head. „Enjoy Raphael on your own“, he hissed. „I‘ve had quite enough of him for today, thank you.“

Haarlep sighed. „I believe you‘ll regret that decision. I’m not threatening you here, I really mean that. But I won’t force you. Good night, vampling.“ They walked past Astarion, stroking along his arm, then they closed the door behind them.

Astarion was ready to go, but the noise from the other side of the door stopped him. It sounded like someone falling, hard, on the polished marble floor.

As quietly as he could, he snuck back to the door, and pressed his ear against the polished wood.
Haarlep was speaking in a shushed voice. „…but I was just trying to…“

„Well, don’t“, the devil interrupted them coldly. „I‘ll handle the spawn myself.“

„Yes, master. Of course, master“, Haarlep replied. „Forgive me.“

„You just can’t help playing your games,
can you, Haarlep? I‘ll say one thing plain and clear, then.“ Raphael was all but growling. „Astarion is off limits. You aren’t to touch him. And don’t even think about injecting him with even a drop of your venom. He‘s mine.“

„Yes…“ Haarlep was panting as if in great pain. „Yes, master. He’s yours. I‘m sorry.“

There was a brief silence, then Raphael said: „There’s something on your mind, isn’t there? Do you doubt me?“

„Never, master“, said Haarlep hastily. „It’s just…I…“

„Speak.“

„He‘s listening at the door, master“, Haarlep said, sounding defeated.

Another tense moment of quiet, then the devil chuckled. „Let’s give him a show, then. Bend over.“
There was an eager rustle then a pained groan, and Astarion shied back and fled down the hallway.

He did not need to hear this.

On the way, he came across a few people shambling around, but none acknowledged him or his nakedness.

Until he ran into a dwarven woman who came storming out of the portal room, fumbling for something in her pocket. She ran into Astarion with such force that he stumbled back into the wall, cursing.

„Oof“, said. „Watch where you’re… oh sweet fucking hells what’s wrong with you!“

Astarion quickly straightened, turning away from her so that his junk wasn’t literally at her eye level. „If you think I‘m just storming around here naked because I really really want to, you’re solely mistaken!“

„Oh, I see. You’re that new debtor. The vampire.“ The dwarf took off her cape. „Here, just… please cover up.“

Astarion noticed she had dropped a large red gemstone, and was hastily picking it up with her free hand. Carefully he took the cape she offered him. „I‘m not sure I‘m supposed to.“

The dwarf looked up at him quizzically. „This some kind of punishment?“

„Whatever gives you that idea?“

She chuckled. „Ah, boss told me all about you and your cheeky tongue. Haarlep too. It’s good you’re hanging on to it. I‘m Korilla.“

„…Astarion. Does your „boss“ have a habit of sending people about naked?“

„Only if he likes them too much to whip‘em“, she replied. „Otherwise, I gotta say it’s rare. Why‘d he punish you though? Didn‘t you do as he asked?“

„I did precisely as he asked“, Astarion replied testily. „Playing master thief for him.“

„Aha.“ She shrugged. „That explains why you’re to walk home nakedy-naked, hm?“

Astarion huffed. „This doesn’t have anything to do with that! Say, what’s that in your pocket? Did he send you to steal something as well?“

„Not so much steal as… retrieve“, she said. „But that’s not important. The boss is preoccupied, yes?“

„I‘d think so“, Astarion snarled. „Unless you want to interrupt whatever he’s doing with Haarlep…“

„Gods no“, she shuddered. „Let’s get you to your room, then. Wouldn’t want the imps to see you like this.“

„The what?“ Dear gods, just what manner of creatures were scuttling about in this house? What was next, redcaps, mud-mephits, or gnomes?

Astarion followed Korilla who of course knew where his room was.
„So“, he started. „Are you a debtor too?“

„I‘m only his best warlock“, she replied cooly.

„What does that mean, exactly?“, asked Astarion? „Is it any different, really?“

She scowled a little, then grinned. „Depends on how you see it, I s‘pose. I do as he says, he grants me power in return. His patronage, his boon, his strength. We‘ve got a contract, him and I. But I chose to come to him. I didn‘t sign out of desperation.“ Like you, her tone said, but the words never left her mouth. „So I imagine our relationship is a tad bit more professional than yours.“

Astarion nodded. „I see. Well, it was either this, or death. I had no choice.“

„I know“, she answered. „I‘d been watching you for a while. I‘d have signed everythin’ away too, no question. Just in case you were having regrets already.“

Astarion paused. Did he? Probably not, despite everything. Huh. „Uh… no, wait just a second! You were… watching me? Watching us? Why, what…?“

Korilla threw a sidelong glance at him. „Yeah, fraid I‘m not supposed to tell you. Best you pretend you never heard that. Ah, here we are! Your room.“

„But…!“

Korilla pressed her lips together and shook her head at him.

„…Fine“, Astarion conceded. „So you also got a gem for Raphael? Quite fond of his bling, isn’t he?“

„I‘d tell you why I think he’s asked us both to find him these gems, but you’d better get dressed now.“ She opened the door and beckoned him inside.

Quickly, Astarion entered and retreated to the wardrobe.

Korilla came in as well, without asking, and sat in the chair with her back to him.

As Astarion dressed, he immediately began feeling better. Still, the conversation before had helped somewhat to het his mind off things. „How long have you been his warlock, then?“, he ventured. „If you’re allowed to tell me that.“

„Oh it’s been 100 years, I think. Huh. Time flies.“

Astarion pulled a shirt on. Time definetely hadn’t been flying for him under Cazador. He could only hope Raphael would be better.
„So, you… you like serving him?“

Korilla shrugged. „Well, if you’re gonna serve someone, better be Raphael. He’s always been fair to me. Keeps his promises. He can even be generous. He‘s still a devil, though. Beware of how close you get, or else you might get burned.“

„I‘m afraid it’s a tad bit too late for that“, replied Astarion bitterly. „I already felt that burn, darling.“ He came over to lean against the desk so he could see her face. „You wouldn’t happen to know why he saved me, would you?“

She didn‘t meet his gaze. „Maybe he’s just bored. Wants a distraction.“

„A new toy“, Astarion snarled. „I figured.“

„Yeah“, Korilla said easily. „Sure. But there’s worse, you know? Also if there’s anything I know about Raphael: He takes good care of his… um… things. Sorry.“ She sighed. „But you signed the contract. You’re his property now.“

„What about the people I saw shambling around in the hallways?“, Astarion asked. „Were they once his new toys too? The ones he grew tired of?“

Korilla made a face. „You’re not like them, don’t worry.“

„Not yet, anyway“, Astarion snapped.

The dwarf grinned. „Look at that. Quite the bite on you. How fitting.“

Astarion flinched as the remark brought back the very recent memory of Raphael with his fingers in his mouth, teasing his fangs. Asking if he had any bite left in him.

He shuddered, unconsciously licking his fangs. Was he imagining some remnants of taste of the devil’s skin and tongue?

„Funny“, he muttered. „Raphael just asked me if… if I had any bite left. He said he’d put it to good use.“

„Ah, oh?“, Korilla said, eyes briefly widening.

Astarion picked up on her surprise. „Ah, you wouldn’t know what he could have meant?“

„Maybe“, she shrugged. „But you‘ll just have to wait until you find out.“

„Of course“, Astarion sighed. „Why am I not surprised you can’t tell me? Fine. How about you leave me alone, then?“

Korilla snorted a laugh. „Hah! Sweet hells you’re audacious! Love that for you.“ She hopped down from the chair. „Aight, I‘ll leave you. Just don’t go doing anything stupid, yes?“

„No promises“, Astarion replied testily, although he really wanted some rest after everything.

The dwarf smirked up at him. „Can’t wait to see what trouble you’re gonna stir up. It’s been too long since we’ve had anyone like you in the House of Hope.“

„Haarlep said the same thing“, Astarion said. „Between trying to fuck me and all.“

„They‘re an incubus, what do you expect?“, she giggled. „I‘ve been dealing with it for over 100 years. You get used to it.“

Astarion startled awake with Raphael’s voice in his head. „Wake up. I have need of you.“

Still scrambling out of the blankets, Astarion found himself replying out loud. „What for…?“

There was no answer. Of course.

Groaning, Astarion got out of bed and stretched his muscles. He was aching all over, probably mostly because of the tense bath.

His hair probably looked a mess since Raphael had insisted on taking care of it. Astarion tried fixing what he could by just feeling around, pulled on a fresh shirt, then left.

He didn‘t want any more reminders burned into his skin, so he made no detours and headed straight for the boudoir.
The door was open, so Astarion didn‘t feel like he had to knock.

„Alright I‘m here“, he said as he entered. „What will it be?“ He begrudgingly added: „Master“, when he saw the devil rise from the desk and turn around to face him, and quickly close a tome he had been reading on the desk.

Raphael’s tail swished from side to side. „And so punctual, I see. It’s good to know you learn your lessons well at least. Come, sit.“

As he snapped his fingers, a chair appeared besides his at the desk.

Astarion swallowed as he drew closer, then his gaze was drawn to the bed. Something was moving there.
It was Haarlep, though they wore Raphael’s skin again. The sight was nothing short of unsettling, especially when the fiend rolled onto their belly and gave Astarion a lazy wink. If they were in pain or exhausted from whatever Raphael had done to them for however long, they didn‘t show it.

The incubus gave a lazy stretch, wings fluttering open, tail curling upwards, then melted back into the cushions.

It would have been incredibly distracting had they worn just any form. But they looked exactly like Raphael. So instead of just looking, Astarion felt himself begin to blush and sweat.

Fuck. He could only hope Raphael wouldn’t notice.

As he sat in his chair next to him, the devil said: „You seem flustered.“ Fuck! „It wouldn’t have anything to do with our lovely bathtime yesterday?“

Astarion pouted. „Did you call me only to remind me of that? Or did you actually need me?“

„Can’t it be both?“ Raphael purred, leaning closer. „But anyway, focus up now.“ He snapped his fingers, making a stack of paper appear on the desk. „A contract. The debtor claims to have the right to secure his soul by pledging his it to some Hollyphant for absolution. I want you to check the contract and see if he does have that right. Ideally he’s breaking his contract and I get to collect his soul. Otherwise… Well, we‘ll see how we‘ll deal with that Hollyphant.“

Astarion stared at the papers piled in front of him. „… how much time do I have?“

„I‘ll give you until I return tonight.“

Astarion hastily checked his ring. It was just before noon. Fuck.
It looked an impossible task. Pages upon pages completely filled with neat but narrow handwriting. And it was a legal document, and accordingly complex.

„Is there a problem?“, asked Raphael.

„Well, it’s… um… it’s quite a long contract.“

„And you have practice as a former magistrate, no?“ Raphael got up, seemingly having closed the matter. „Make sure you’re done by tonight.“

„Um…“ Astarion got up with him. „Just hypothetically… what if I can’t make it?“

The devil gave him a dark smile, large hands gripping his shoulders and pushing him back into the chair. „I‘m sure you don’t want to find out. Good luck.“

Astarion pulled his head in, desperate to protect his neck from the sharp claws, but Raphael had already let him go and teleported out of the room, leaving behind only a dew cinders and the smell of sulphur.

Astarion stared at the stack of papers. Fuck! He was never gonna get this done. Least of all in but a few hours.

Should he just refuse? If he was going to be punished anyway, why not spend his time until then doing something more fun?

But Raphael might just decide he deserved a worse punishment for refusing to even try.

„I can hear the gears turning from here“, Haarlep sighed with Raphael’s voice.

„Kindly shut up“, Astarion snarled. He was beginning to sweat with anxiety already, and hearing Raphael’s voice wasn’t helping the matter.

„Oh? Touchy.“ The fiend got up from the bed and all but sauntered over, naked save for a silken sheet. „Maybe I can help. Haven’t thought about that, have you?“

„I‘m sure if Raphael thought you could do this, he’d have asked you, darling“, Astarion replied. „No offense.“

„Hm. You think all I am is a whore, yes?“

Astarion looked up at them. „Aren’t you?“

„Yes. Absolutely.“ Haarlep grinned. „I‘m grateful I don’t have to dig through all that paper! My skin would get dry and that would just be a disaster.“

Astarion chuckled. „Point taken. But if you’re going to keep distracting me, I will have to ask you to leave.“

Haarlep gasped in mock offense, clutching their imaginary pearls. „You wouldn’t!“

It looked so funny on Raphael’s borrowed body that Astarion couldn’t stifle a laugh.

„There’s that laugh“, the incubus purred. „Looks much better on you than fear. Raphael would disagree, but he’s got no taste.“ They interrupted Astarion’s continued laugh: „So, you think you can handle this? At all?“

„Well, since I don’t want to find out what he’ll do to me if I don’t, I better.“

„What’s a night in the dungeons? It’s not like he‘ll kill you. I think I‘d rather be in the dungeons than having to read all this. Ugh.“

Astarion almost agreed, only his fear of Raphael’s unpredictability kept him firmly planted in his chair. „Well it isn’t up to you, is it. I better get started.“

„Ugh, fine!“ Haarlep threw their hands up. „Such a bore after all.“

Astarion glanced over the text on the first page, finding that it merely stated the names of the ones involved.
Lord Xander Hollyhearth and Raphael of the House of Hope.

Astarion sighed as he resigned himself to a long and tedious day as he began reading the endless terms, addendums, the fine print, sections and subsections.

As worked his way through the texts, determined to be bored, something eventually switched in his head. He unconsciously straightened up, attentively going through line after line. With his right hand he fumbled for a pen and began taking notes.

The lord Hollyhearth had signed his soul away in exchange for wealth in no less than 1 million gold, as well as the ability to charm people. This had allowed for an exponential increase in political influence and for him to marry a lady he fancied. Raphael had ensured all of this in the contract.
Hollyhearth‘s soul was owned by Raphael, and the devil was free to do with it as he wished upon his death, or in case of breach of contract. Of course Raphael wasn’t allowed to conspire to obtain his soul prematurely, except if a breach of contract could be proven.
Which Astarion was trying to do.
As far as Astarion understood, Hollyhearth legally couldn’t pledge his soul to any other creature, especially since Raphael had already fulfilled his part of the contract.
There had to be a term defining it in clear legal terms.

A playful giggle sounded from the bed, breaking his focus. It was, of course, Haarlep relaxing on the bed and watching him.

„So serious all of a sudden. You look just like master does when he’s drafting his silly little contracts.“

„You’re not helping.“

„I‘m not trying to help. I‘m just bored“, Haarlep sighed. „Raphael always does this.“

„Does what?“, Astarion asked as he traced a line of text with his finger.

„Leave me here to entertain myself. Can’t even try to get you to bed, since he forbade it.“ They were pouting. „Of course you know all about it since you’ve been eavesdropping.“

Astarion sharply turned his head to look at them. „And thank you for telling him I was at the door yesterday.“

The incubus averted their gaze. „I didn’t want to. He made me tell him. Why were you listening in the first place? Thinking about joining after all?“

„Not likely“, Astarion hissed.

„Oh, so you were hoping to hear overhear some secrets.“

Astarion sighed and gave up on reading for now. „Can you blame me? I have no idea what our damn Master would ask of me next. I don’t even know why he even went through the trouble of getting me to sign that contract.“

„He likes pretty things.“ Haarlep shrugged. „So do I, but of course I‘m stuck with Raphael.“

Astarion made a face, still not quite able to shake the feeling Raphael had saved him for some reason. Surely there were many beautiful elves Raphael could enslave and play with.
Why Astarion?
Why would Raphael get himself a starved bitter vampire whore, save him from certain death and house him here?
It would make more sense if the devil had fucked him, but it hadn’t happened yet.

„Oh stop worrying!“, Haarlep was all but shouting. „You get the ugliest wrinkles right there! It’s going to get stuck like that, I‘m telling you!“

„Kindly shut up…“, Astarion sighed. Gods, the incubus, though funny, was exhausting. „If you can’t help me…“ He looked up at Haarlep, then, sensing a shift in their demeanour.
The fiend looked… sad, regretful, for a fleeting moment. It passed so quickly Astarion wasn’t sure he’d seen correctly. „You know something, don’t you?“, he said. „Can you tell me… without telling me?“

Haarlep pressed their lips together.

„At least nod, or something!“, Astarion hissed. „Sweet hells, Haarlep, please!“

The incubus averted their gaze. „I can’t.“

Astarion glared at them. „Oh, fuck you. Leave me alone, then. I‘m trying to work.“

„I‘m sorry“, Haarlep offered.

„Why don’t you shove it, how about that?“ Astarion turned back the contract.

„Negotiations can be initiated by both parties at any time“, the document stated. „Mention of the contract to another living soul by the debtor is a violation of the terms.“

Astarion bent forward, his nose almost touching the paper.
Was this it?
He very quickly took a note, then kept on reading, skimming over the subsections of clause six.
„Payment of the soul is non-negotiable after the debtor’s demands have been met.“

Astarion scribbled down another note, though he was unsure of whether all the demands had indeed been met yet. Raphael had mentioned he had provided Hollyhearth with the means to charm, and also with the money he had requested. Hollyhearth had also used his new abilities and funds to secure a wife and beneficial political position.

So, as defined by the contract, Hollyhearth was in the wrong trying to pledge his soul to anyone or anything else. Also even just mentioning the contract to this Hollyphant would also violate the terms.

Astarion sat back, sighing in relief. Done. He had found the term that would help Raphael bring his debtor to heel.

Another day without punishment then, unless Astarion had misunderstood something.
As he leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back, he was met with Haarlep again, their face (still Raphael’s) hovering just above his as they stood behind him.
„All done?“

„I wouldn’t be relaxing otherwise“, Astarion replied, taking in every detail and line of the strikingly handsome face just an inch away. Raphael, though he looked much the same, had a totally different aura to him. Still, Haarlep‘s guise was too perfect not to make Astarion a bit uncomfortable.

„Looking for something, sweetling?“, Haarlep asked.

„Do you absolutely have to look like this?“, Astarion asked. „Surely there are countless shapes you could take.“

„Oh, you have no idea. Thousands!“ Haarlep spread both their hands in excited pride. „But why would I choose anything else? This form has a way of flustering you quite badly, doesn’t it? Aw there’s that blush again!“

„Excuse me!“ Astarion squaked, scrambling upright and turning around proper to face the incubus. „I‘m a vampire! I don’t blush!“

„Oh, but you do!“ Haarlep did a little delighted hop. „It’s adorable! All the way up to the tips of your ears!“

Astarion covered his ears with both hands. „Well excuse me if I‘m well fed for the first time in my damned 200 years of unlife!“

„Oh?“ Haarlep angled himself to the side, leaning against the back of Astarion’s chair. „Do tell. Does your body do other things you aren’t used to? Some exciting things perhaps?“

Astarion glared. „If you think I‘m going to start telling you all about my-!“

He was interrupted when Raphael abruptly reappeared in the room with a deafening clap like thunder.

Astarion shrank back, his back painfully hitting the edge of the desk.

„What’s this? Done so soon?“, the devil grumbled. He seemed in an awfully bad mood. Fuck.

Haarlep happily piped up. „He’s all done, master! A good sweet little vampling you found yourself. And see, I didn‘t touch him! Not even once. Did I? Tell him!“ They addressed Astarion, who was still busy shrinking under Raphael’s gaze.

„I… N… not a finger, dear“, he confirmed. „And yes, I found something.“ Hastily he fumbled for his notes. „First, Hollyhearth isn’t allowed to mention the contract to any living creature.“

„Hollyphants don’t count as living“, snarled Raphael. „I hope you found something better.“

„Yes!“, Astarion squealed. „Yes, I… right here: Since you’ve already made good on your end of the bargain, as I understood it, there can be no renegotiations about your ownership of Hollyhearth‘s soul.“

Raphael bent closer to inspect the section Astarion had laid out on the desk, caging him against the table with his frame.

His scent filled Astarion’s nose, his hot red skin rubbed against his cold body, and all he saw was Raphael’s broad chest and arm.

Finally the devil stood back up straight, taking the contract from the table.

„Why, I‘m surprised, pet“, he said at last, a smile tugging at his lips. „You‘ve really done it.“

Astarion was sagging with relief. „Yes? Can… Can I go, then?“

„Not quite yet“, Raphael said. He snapped his fingers, and a goblet with blood appeared in his hand. „First: a toast.“ He handed the goblet to him. „To another job well done.“

Astarion raised the goblet to his lips, but found he felt nauseous not knowing if Raphael was leaving him off the hook. „And… then surely I can go?“

„Aren’t you hungry, pet? Drink.“

Astarion was always hungry, so he drank.
Raphael watched him idly with a glare that made Astarion thoroughly uncomfortable. He tightly closed his eyes as he emptied the goblet.

Haarlep piped up when he tipped his head back to get the last drops. „He deserves a reward, no? Oh please master, let me reward him.“

„Yes, he deserves a reward“, Raphael agreed. „Leave us.“

Astarion opened his eyes to Haarlep swishing their tail and pouting. „Pretty please?“

„I said no“, the devil growled as he offered his arm to Astarion. „Come, sweetling.“

„Where are we going?“ Tentatively Astarion reached out.

„The dungeons. It’s about time you see them.“

As Astarion blanched and shrank back, Raphael snapped his fingers and teleported them from the room.

Chapter Text

With a thundering crack, Raphael and Astarion reappeared in a dark and spacious room.

Astarion smelled the burnt flesh, the blood, the horrid stench of decay and pain, tears, sweat, vomit and everything else unpleasant you could imagine. He saw the racks, hooks, chains, whips, knives and saws, alongside countless other instruments of torture. He had seen plenty in his 200 years, but even to him, some of these were unfamiliar.
He heard distant screams and sobs, weak voices begging for mercy, for relief, for death…

It only took one fraction of a second to register it all, then Astarion found himself well and truly panicking.

He pushed against Raphael for support, for help, for mercy, whatever the hells was needed here.

Raphael chuckled at this and curled a large red wing around him. „Suddenly so clingy. What is it, pet?“

Astarion was unable to answer, now smothered against the devil. It was too hot, and now he couldn’t even run anymore. Raphael had him.

„Fear not, little mouse. You’re quite safe.“

The fiend walked him across the room, and they were accompanied by a swell of voices calling out to Raphael, some in fear, some to beg.

Astarion‘s gaze was drawn to one elven man in particular, who leaned against the cell door, knuckles white where he grasped the bars. He would have been handsome if his eyes hadn’t been missing, bloody holes gaping beneath striking dark eyebrows. His scent was familiar to Astarion.

He had drank his blood for days now.

„Please…“, the elf gasped. „No more, please…“

Raphael pulled him further, one wing still wrapped around him, one hand wandering to the back of his neck. Astarion shuddered, barely biting back a whimper as he felt the devil’s strong claws digging into his skin slightly.

Just what had Raphael planned, he frantically wondered.
Astarion was certain he’d seen and experienced it all, but if anyone could come up with some new horrible method of torture, it was a devil.
Only… maybe it would be easier to figure out if Astarion knew what in the hells he was in trouble for.

He… he was in trouble, right?

Astarion was glancing around wildly, trying to remember where he went wrong before. He did as the devil had asked, but… maybe he was displeased with what had transpired between Haarlep and him? But why? How could he possibly know everything they had spoken of, and… could Raphael read his mind?

Astarion looked up at the devil, and, for a moment that felt dangerously like mania, thought of picturing a bugbear in a tutu. Just to see if Raphael reacted at all.

But the fiend walked him past another rack still sticky with blood, and Astarion‘s train of thought hopelessly crashed.

The fiend pulled him along a row of cells and finally stopped when six of them were in good view, including their miserable occupants.

There was a human woman, a half elf, a tiefling with a frame like an ox, a lithe dragonborn, an elven woman, and finally a burly dwarf.
All of them were fully nude, bound, and bore the marks of torture.

„Well?“ Raphael made a wide gesture towards the prisoners.

Astarion stared at these strangers and didn‘t understand a thing. Was he supposed to know them? To… select one for some terrible thing the devil had planned?

„What did they do?“, Astarion asked, his mouth dry.

„They aren’t debtors, little mouse. These are enemies. Spies, warlocks of rivals, and the like. I have no more use for them. Go on and pick whoever you‘d like. Have you ever drained any person dry? I hadn’t thought so.“ Raphael made a gracious movement. „Have your pick, little vampling.“

Astarion should have felt excited about this opportunity, but instead he just felt sick. Until about 30 seconds ago, he had thought he’d share their fate at any moment. And now he was supposed to… pick one to drink dry? As a reward? Kill someone, as his reward, and their final punishment.

„Do I have to?“, he heard himself ask.

Raphael raised an eyebrow at him, tail twitching with irritation. „Are you sure you wish to reject my reward? I thought you smarter.“

„No…“, Astarion said quickly, his voice hollow. „I…“

Why in all the nine hells would he feel weird about this? These captives would die either way, but at least this way Astarion benefitted.

It took him a few good seconds to figure out he was averse to the whole ordeal: He didn‘t like Raphael using him to exact punishment. Like some dog to be let loose on unfortunate tresspassers.

But refusing Raphael’s generosity felt like asking to be starved or otherwise punished.

Astarion felt a bit faint as he pointed to the dragonborn (he‘d always been curious as to what they’d taste like).
All the while he heard Cazador‘s voice booming through his head. Asking him if he’d like to dine with him. Offering his starving spawn a putrid rat as he gorged himself on the pretty things Astarion had lured back to the palace by offering his body.
Surely Raphael had something similar in mind. Surely he’d applaud Astarion’s choice, his fine tastes or curiosity… and incinerate the dragonborn, offering him some disgusting scrap instead. Order him to drink and enjoy it.

Something like that. Astarion had spent too long learning that lesson to really get his hopes up.

Raphael smirked and unlocked the door with the wave of a hand, making Astarion freeze. What?

The devil crossed his arms behind his back, looking at him expectantly.

Astarion looked back, with no idea what was going on anymore. Then he examined the dragonborn shivering in the cell. She had dark green scales that had been scraped off in places, and curved horns, as well as spikes adorning her lower jaw.

The dragonborn quivered and retreated to the back of her cell, her breath laboured as she shifted her weight from a clearly broken leg.

„Go on“, Raphael said encouragingly. „She’s all yours.“

Astarion still felt sick just being here. Usually he was the one in this dragonborn‘s shoes. Completely at the mercy of others, helpless and hopeless.

Really, didn‘t Astarion… deserve this after everything? Why not be on the other side of the equation, for fucking once? Maybe his centuries of pain and strife would make more sense to him if he was on the giving end.
For once not the one cowering, but the one inflicting the punishment, the one bringing death.

Strangely, he craved this.

Just as he thought that, he felt the beast inside him stir awake again.

And oh, did it ever love this.

This time, Astarion surrendered to it, happy to have this savage side of him take over.

He wanted to savour this.
Better be Raphael’s attack dog than the whipped slave.

Astarion bared his teeth as his fangs extended, then he stalked forward, his eyes fixed on the dragonborn‘s neck.
Would the scales be tough or would they feel cool and slippery instead?

His prey watched him approach with wide eyes that burned an eerie blue, a stark contrast to her dark scales.
She screamed when he lunged for her, trying to fight him off kicking and scratching, but her wounds were too severe.

Astarion held her snout closed with one hand and wrenched her head to the side, then tore into her neck.

Her skin was thick, dry and warm, giving way to his fangs more easily than he had expected, so he bit deeper than intended.
The amount of blood gushing out of was too much for him to drink, so it squirted out onto the dirty floor, sticking to Astarion’s face, hair and shirt, but he didn‘t care. The blood was exquisite, sharper than the human he had tasted, more vibrant on his tongue than even the elf blood he had gotten used to.

With a snarl he brought his squirming prey down, pushing her to the floor and ripping into her neck even deeper.
His savage growling drowned out her terrified whimpers.

As she grew weaker and her struggle ceased, Astarion felt more powerful every second. His grip turned brutal, fingers digging into her arm and face.

This time, when he felt the urge to tear and rip into her throat, he didn’t resist it.

As her heartbeat fluttered to a stop, Astarion wrenched his head back, taking a chunk of her neck with him.

His body sang with a satisfaction he had never experienced. Astarion wanted to scream and howl with the wild joy he felt.

He felt… glorious.
He felt more than full, more than sated, more than invincible.
Hells, he felt happy.

His jaws unclenched and he dropped the dead piece of flesh he had ripped out, a groan slipping from his lips. He knelt over the dragonborn’s cooling corpse and didn‘t feel a hint of the doubt and fear from before. Who could have known surrendering to his instincts could feel like this?

Hells, for once in his life he could just take. Take blood, take his fill, take a life even.

Astarion whipped around with a snarl as a large hot hand gripped his shoulder.

Raphael, kneeling behind him, gently cupped his blood-soaked face, stroking along his cheeks and ears in a way that made his knees weak, then guided him to his feet.

„Aren’t you just perfect?“, he purred, then pulled Astarion in for a kiss.

With his hot tongue he licked into Astarion’s mouth, tasting the blood on his lips and fangs.

Astarion knew recoiling would have been the safe and sane option, but he wasn’t so sure he was sane at the moment.

His body was thrumming with fresh energy just begging to be released.

He needed to either fuck or fight someone, right now.

And… well, Raphael was right here.

Overcome with hunger and lust, Astarion kissed the devil back, hands grasping for his strong neck and shoulders, tongue seeking his.

Raphael growled as he pulled Astarion closer by the waist until their bodies were flush.

Astarion groaned when he felt the devil’s hot skin against his.

Right now, he craved that heat more than anything.

When Raphael ran a hand through his bloody curls, Astarion nipped at his lip, breaking the skin and drawing blood. He immediately regretted it when the hot liquid burned his tongue, and tried pulling back, but Raphael deepened the kiss, smearing his scalding blood all over Astarion’s lips and chin.
It hurt, but Astarion‘s healing factor quickly took the pain away, the blood he had stolen from the dragonborn quickly working to fix any damage done to him.

Raphael tightly gripped his waist and spun them both around, smashing Astarion into a table.

The pain faded as quickly as it flared up, then Raphael leaned over him, pinning him to the table and tearing his shirt off.

He wasn’t mindful with his claws, leaving a bloody gash along Astarion’s stomach, but it closed within a few seconds.
Astarion paid it no mind.
There was only the devil prying his legs apart and grinding into him, his tail lashing in excitement, wings quivering, staring at him like he was about to eat him right up.

The fear sparking up within Astarion ended up fanning the fires of his lust, and he roughly pulled the devil closer, fangs still extended.
This was terrifying, but exhilarating.
In his dazed and blood-drunk state, nothing mattered. Nothing but the hunger.

Raphael tried pulling Astarion‘s trousers off, but didn‘t want to back up and release him, so, after a few fairly awkward seconds, he relented and snapped his fingers, undressing them both with magic.

Astarion barely had enough time to gasp for air before the devil was upon him again, plundering his mouth with reckless abandon, running his unbearably hot hands down his body.

As they wildly kissed, the devil cut his tongue multiple times, both of them growling with the pain (Raphael because of the wounds, Astarion due to the burns he received from the scalding blood), but both not caring.

Raphael grasped a fistful of Astarion‘s hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat.
Then the devil bit down, licking and sucking the dragonborn‘s drying blood from his skin. His tongue travelled up Astarion’s neck and to his face, finally to his ear.

Astarion quivered with pleasure, groaning and moaning as the sensation drove him wild, his hips bucking against the devil forcing his legs apart.

He was painfully hard thanks to the blood and the thrill his savage self had experienced killing his first prey, and Raphael was rubbing his own erection against his, providing delicious friction.

Astarion knew the devil would have him, and it would be anything but gentle.
But in his frenzy, he craved the blood and pain, craved everything the devil was willing to give him.

He writhed beneath the fiend, locking his ankles around his hips, clawing at his scalding skin, grasping for every inch of Raphael he could reach. Hells, he needed to claim that heat for himself, he wanted to take it like he had taken the dragonborn’s life.

There were no words exchanged between them, as the devil seemed equally ravenous. His huge hand was squeezing Astarion’s thigh as he began to thrust against, then into him.

Astarion hissed with pain, though he wanted to welcome the intrusion. Raphael was just too big for him to take without lubrication, and clumsy in his eagerness.

After a few fruitless and frustrating tries, Raphael stopped long enough to think and snap his fingers.

Before Astarion realized what had happened, Raphael pushed inside his now lubricated entrance.
Because of their frenzied states, he slipped in all the way with very little resistance as Astarion invited the intrusion by spreading his legs wider and pulling the devil closer, urging him deeper.

With a shout of pleasure-pain, Astarion threw his head back, arching his back as the devil snapped his hips forward and began to fuck him with short hard thrusts.

It was hell.

It was heaven.

It was delicious pain and agonizing pleasure.

The devil wasn’t gentle or graceful. His pace bordered on brutal, and he clutched Astarion‘s body to him like a drowning man, his mouth biting and suckling at his neck, his jaw, his ears.
He was fire against him, fire inside him, teeth and claws and spines and ridges that were hard beneath Astarion‘s grasping fingers.

He bared his teeth at the devil as he groaned against his neck, his breath catching every time Raphael’s hips slammed into his thighs.

And then it was over.

The devil pushed himself as deep as he could, then sighed with release, hips bucking frantically as he rode out his climax.

Astarion went wild with need as the friction both inside and out decreased. He held on to Raphael, growling in warning.

The devil was panting as he withdrew, paying no mind to Astarion’s demanding bucks and snarls.

He hissed at the devil as he rose to stand, leaving Astarion unsatisfied on the table.

„Still not enough?“, Raphael huffed. He was
sweating, still catching his breath. „Who
knew you were such a wild little thing?“

Astarion had half a mind go jump to his feet to bite and claw at the devil, but Raphael lowered himself over his legs, stroking along his thighs.

„Fret not. I intend to thoroughly enjoy you now that I have you.“ He chuckled as he planted a light bite at the inside of his thigh and watched Astarion quiver. „Are you sure Haarlep hasn’t touched you after all?“

„Shut up“, Astarion growled.

„Such strong words, little mouse.“ Another love-bite. „You’re lucky I‘m feeling generous today.“

Astarion squirmed, trying to grab the devil by the horns, but Raphael raised his head out of reach. Like he was listening for something, suddenly distracted.

Astarion hissed and sat up as much as he devil allowed it. „Do you fucking mind?“

Raphael growled, and he was back on Astarion, silencing his snarl with a savage kiss, but it only lasted a second or two before he withdrew again, cocking his head and cursing under his breath.

„Don’t you fucking dare…!“, Astarion yelled when Raphael made a move to get up. He grabbed onto the devil, trying to pull him back down.

Raphael‘s gaze flicked back to him, he grabbed a fistful of his locks and lowered his forehead against his (if not for the hand in his hair, Astarion would absolutely have bitten him, tenderness or no). „Alas, I have to leave you, sweetling.“ Astarion immediately began to protest, but Raphael put a hand over his mouth. „I shall return you to your room, and you will stay there, understood?“

Astarion snarled and fought, but Raphael increased the pressure until he begrudgingly relented.

„Is that understood, pet?“, Raphael growled.

Glaring at him, Astarion shook his head, because, frankly, he didn‘t understand a thing.

„I can always leave you down here“, snarled Raphael. „But I think, once you’ve calmed down, you wouldn’t thank me for it.“

Astarion should have felt scared at the threat, but the fear just didn‘t reach his lust addled mind. He tried to bite Raphael’s hand, but the devil expertly clamped his mouth shut and glared.

„Last chance“, he said darkly. „Nod if you understand.“

Astarion narrowed his eyes, then kicked the devil, for good measure, aiming for his crotch.

Raphael blocked him by pinning his leg down with a knee. The devil barked a laugh. „I‘d like nothing more than to take you again, right here, right now, until you scream and beg me to stop! But there just isn’t time. Consider this a gift.“

He raised one hand, keeping Astarion down with the other, and snapped his fingers.

Astarion rematerialized in his room, on his bed, fully clothed and alone.

For a moment he just blinked up at the ceiling in utter disbelief, then he sat up with a yell, looking around in the room for… something, anything he could get his teeth into.

But the room was, of course, empty safe for the sparse furniture.

Well.
First was the desk, because that’s where the goblet that smelled faintly of blood was placed.

Astarion, in a fit of rage, hurled the desk and then lunged after if, unsatisfied with the damage dealt to it.
He broke two of the tables legs, the splintering wood tearing open the skin on his arms and hands. But gorged with blood as he was, the wounds quickly healed.

When the table top didn‘t break after two good strong kicks, Astarion whirled over to the book shelf to violently sweep the contents from the boards.

Only then, amidst a gentle rain of loose pages and dust, Astarion whipped around to the exit.

He didn‘t give a fuck about what Raphael had told him to do. He‘d take this entire house apart if that’s what it took to get the devil’s attention.

Astarion made a run for the door, opening it swiftly enough to have the wood slam into the wall.

When he made to storm out, he instead slammed into an invisible barrier.

It hurt, godsfucking dammit, but the rage, the indignation at being confined, was far worse.

Astarion screamed with anger, holding his nose, then uselessly punched the invisible wall with a closed fist, bloodying his knuckles as well.

About an hour later, Astarion was back in bed, the pillows, blankets and sheets utterly destroyed, covered in feathers, blood and sweat.

The snapping, ever-hungry beast within him had gone dormant, like a fire gradually flickering out.

Now, the last embers were cooling off, and Astarion was left feeling shaky, confused, and embarrassed.

He was aching all over from his short thryst with the devil, but more so from his rampage. He had tried getting through that barrier for about an hour before his energy had waned and he’d turned to easier prey - the bedding.

Now all that really remained was the exhaustion and a frustration at Raphael leaving him high and dry, again. And after Astarion had all but thrown himself at him in his frenzy.

Speaking of… this absolutely couldn’t happen again. Astarion had lost control of his urges and let the devil have his way with him.

How utterly embarrassing.

The devil could have let him finish at the very fucking least, he thought begrudgingly.

He didn‘t care what had Raphael distracted, all of a sudden, it really wasn’t fair to just… take his pleasure from him and…
Astarion sighed, pressing his hands to his eyes. Why was he surprised? When had anyone ever cared about his pleasure? Raphael really wasn’t different from everyone else, after all.

Oh well, at least Astarion knew what to expect now.

How disappointing.

Footsteps in the hallway ripped Astarion from his gloomy thoughts, and he stood and walked over to the doorway, just to look.

It was just a few seconds before he could make out Raphael’s voice.
„… quite regrettable, I agree. I could send my best warlock to find him.“

A voice like ice shards and chilled bones breaking: „There are thousands of souls on the line. I will not miss out on this feast because of one insignificant little runaway.“

That voice made Astarion freeze where he stood, a chill of pure terror running up his spine. Who… or what WAS that?

„Of course not“, Raphael amended quickly. „You have my support, father.“

Fuck. Father? Astarion was reeling.

„Make sure“, added the voice that sounded like a glacier grinding an army of dead bodies to splinters, „that I get my due. Or I shall make sure everyone knows your uselessness.“

„I understand…“

„Do you? Never forget you’re no more than a lowly cambion. It is but by my grace you enjoy your status here. I have disowned children more useful than you, Raphael.“

There was a begrudging silence, then Raphael replied. „Of course. I shall inform you as soon as I find his trail.“

„You better“, the… glacier death creature replied, then there was a crackling snap, then silence.

Astarion stood, frozen in terror, like an icicle left in the wake of whatever had just teleported from the hallway.

After a few seconds, Raphael gave an exasperated sigh, then his steps closed in on Astarion’s room.

Since the fire of his inner beast‘s rage had died down to a cold piece of charcoal, Astarion could only meet the devil’s gaze with fear and uncertainty, shaken by what he had just heard, and still upset after what had happened in the dungeons.

Raphael met Astarion‘s gaze looking more tired than he’d ever seem him.

Finally, after they’d just stared at each other for a few long seconds, Raphael spoke:

„You should rest, pet. I need you to steal something for me, tomorrow.“

Chapter Text

Astarion scoffed. „You can’t be serious.“

„I‘m very serious. In fact, your life depends on it.“

„Oh, and I thought I was quite safe“, Astarion snapped, unsure of what else to even fucking say or do.

„As long as you do as I say“, the devil growled, looking past him. „I see you handled your confinement well.“

Oh. He seemed displeased with the state of the room. Of course.

Astarion thought back to the dungeon and shuddered at the thought of punishment.

After the threats Raphael himself had just received from his father, the devil might be less likely to be lenient with him.

But Astarion quickly found that latching onto that anger felt better than letting the fear take over.

„You can’t seriously be surprised, darling“, Astarion hissed, baring his fangs at the devil. „You knew I was in quite the state before.“

Raphael smiled. „You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.“

Astarion scowled, though he felt the tips of his ears heat up. „I might have enjoyed myself more if you’d bothered sticking around to finish the damn job.“

Raphael made a face. „I wanted to, dear mouse. But as I thought I had made clear, this is a matter of life and death.“ There was a dangerous edge to his voice now. „I enjoyed our time in the dungeons, pet. Be grateful I choose not to punish you for the destruction you caused here.“ He stepped closer to the entrance, tail lashing. „I suggest you heed my advice: Rest well. See me tomorrow morning for instructions on your next mission. The first notch.“ He tapped his own finger, referencing the ring still burned into Astarion’s.

When the devil turned to leave, Astarion felt that rage inside him flare up again, and very suddenly had the urge to run after, and attack Raphael.
But he knew the barrier was in the way and would block him.

Still, this was about getting the message across, not about actually hurting the devil.
So, Astarion swung a fist for the barrier.

Only there was no barrier there, anymore, to stop him.

Astarion ended up rather inelegantly hurling himself after Raphael, spinning with the force of the blow he had meant to deal, and crashing into the fiend‘s side.

Raphael, having heard his stumbling footsteps, managed to halfway turn and catch him, one hand around his wrist, one arm around his middle.

The devil quickly snapped out of his obvious surprise and held him closer, a tail wrapping around Astarion’s calf, a hot mouth in his hair.

„And just what was that, pet?“, he muttered against Astarion’s ear.

Fuck. Astarion couldn’t exactly tell him he had meant to punch the nonexistent invisible wall.
Well, he could, but not without sounding even more stupid than he already felt.

So, seeking to disarm, or at least surprise Raphael, Astarion turned his head and kissed him, hands seeking his neck and hair.

The devil, to his credit, only froze for the fraction of a second, before kissing him back.

Astarion was still angry with the devil, furious even, but feeling his tongue dance with his own almost made him want to forget about how disappointing their encounter in the dungeons had been.

But just almost.

This time, Astarion would work the devil up and then shut the door in his face. So, this was a battle, one Astarion was winning considering how Raphael ran a hot hand down his side and towards his hip.

His other hand was stroking his hair, fingers carding through the locks almost lovingly. Then his grip tightened and he pulled Astarion back, breaking their kiss.

„There’s no time for this, pet“, Raphael said solemnly, locking eyes with him. „As much as I hate to say it: You will stop this, now.“

Astarion growled, but backed off. He hadn’t forgotten the terms of their contract. If he pushed the devil, he was breaking the rules, which would be just asking Raphael to punish him. He wasn’t keen on experiencing what the devil might do to him if he was really displeased.

„Good boy“, Raphael said. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, making Astarion flinch. „Now, will you remain in your room, or do I have to confine you, again?“

Astarion, trying to figure out what the devil had snapped his fingers for, looked over his shoulder and found the mess he had made of the room completely undone.

It should have relieved him, but instead it just pissed him off to no end. He had spent hours and all of his energy doing the damage. How dare Raphael just… undo it like that? It was incredibly rude!

Glowering, Astarion looked back at the fiend. „Fine, I‘ll stay.“

Raphael smirked. „Good pet. Rest well.“
The devil displaced with a crack and a puff of cinders, leaving Astarion scowling in the doorway.

Astarion would continue to rage or worry about what business it was that had Raphael acting so strangely, but frankly, he was too tired.

With a sigh, he went over to the bed and flopped down, looking up at the ceiling.

Another job tomorrow, then.
Astarion could only hope he was up for the task, since his life apparently depended on it.

Best to forget about the events of the day, for now.

Astarion covered his face with both hands and tried relaxing into a trance.

But as his mind began to drift, he felt large hot hands travel down his sides, squeezing his thighs, grasping him by the locks and pulling just so… teeth at his exposed throat, a tongue tasting him, licking up his body… gold eyes meeting his, radiating heat, desire, hunger.

Astarion started awake when he felt ghostly hands prying his legs apart.

Fuck. He was entirely too old for this sort of dream.
Had been through too much shit to find enjoyment in them.

And after Raphael had just taken his pleasure and then left him, Astarion didn‘t want to be fantasising about the sex.

And yet, as he tried trancing again, the memories of their heated union returned unbidden.

Astarion woke up hard several more times, increasingly frustrated with his own desire for the devil.

Finally he was too tired, and didn‘t snap out of his trance, even as the echo of Raphael’s hand closed around the back of his neck and pushed him into the pillows, taking him from behind with little preamble.

The ghost of Astarion’s voice cursed and whimpered, and still begged the devil for more.

And the part of Astarion’s mind that was awake and aware was terrified at the prospect of enduring the devil. There was no beast that had awoken within him this time,
nothing to hide behind, and nothing to blame his own lust on.

Astarion woke up on his belly, writhing in the sheets with the feeling of the devil inside him fresh in his mind.

He swayed as he sat up, then angrily scowled down at the treacherous tent in his trousers.

Disgraceful.

Astarion had thought to be done with this. Now he felt like he was 20 years old all over again. Developing his first crush on that elf much older than him.
The passion-filled dreams and waking up aroused, the many many times he‘d blushed around this gorgeous man…
Now Astarion couldn’t even remember his name.

Oh well.

It wasn’t like Astarion had a crush on Raphael.
What a ridiculous notion.
This was something else, surely. Something to do with the power the devil held over him.
Blearily, Astarion checked his ring and found he had very little time left before he was to meet Raphael.

Fuck, he was not ready.

Astarion hastily did his hair, which was hard enough without a mirror AND plenty of time, thank you, then hurried over to the wardrobe and got dressed.

Presumably he’d get to wear his changing armor again, but he still didn‘t fancy showing up in Raphael’s boudoir in his nightclothes, especially after the dreams he had had last night.

So, probably looking just as wrecked as he felt, he hurried out the door and down the hallway.

He met the librarian on the way, but there simply wasn’t time to mess with him today.

The tiefling himself, meanwhile, seemed even busier than last time. He was carrying an enormous pile of ancient and… foreboding looking books.
The kind that wizards guarded in their towers, the kind that cursed or killed anyone who’d dare open them.

The librarian fell into step close to Astarion, staggering beneath his load.
„Do you mind, spawn?“, he panted. „I‘m late.“

„Well. How the turntables“, Astarion replied, nervously checking his ring. He‘d be on time unless someone physically stopped him.

„You…“ the tiefling said, out of breath, „this is all your fault! You and this cursed sigil have him all worked up!“

Sigil? What in the hells was this moron on about? Astarion blinked, thinking about how to learn more. If he just asked, he wasn’t likely to get an answer out of the stuck up librarian. Maybe he meant the mark Raphael had given him? After all, Astarion still had no idea what it looked like.

Astarion eyed the pile of books and found only one title he was able to read.
It said „Infernal sigils and their meaning“.

Curious.
Shouldn’t Raphael know what he put on Astarion? Was this about some other sigil Astarion didn‘t know about?

„Sure, darling. Blame me for Raphael’s obsessions“, Astarion said, his lip curling.

„Everything was fine until you showed up, damn you!“

„I didn‘t show up!“, Astarion hissed. „Raphael rescued me, out of nowhere! Believe me I wish I knew why“, he added with a resentful growl.

The tiefling seemed a bit taken aback, but still glared. „I have a feeling you’ll find out soon enough.“ He said it without malice, but the words still made Astarion‘s skin crawl.

„And just what do you mean by that, dear?“, he asked as calmly as possible.

The tiefling cursed as he dropped a book and tried picking it up with a foot and his tail.
It was comical.

Astarion put a foot on the book. „How about this? I help you carry these, and you give me an answer.“

„An answer to fucking what?“, the librarian shouted as another book fell. „Damn you, you’re going to get me in trouble!“

„The sigil“, Astarion said, fixing the tiefling with a cool gaze. „What is it?“

„Don’t tell me you don’t know you have an infernal sigil on you. You can’t be this stupid.“

„As you pointed out earlier, I‘m a vampire spawn.“ Astarion tried to stay calm. Really, he did. But his anxiety about this alleged sigil he couldn’t fucking see had him worked up quicker than he had anticipated. So, the rest of what he meant to say came out as a scream. „I can’t see my damn reflection! Tell me what he put on me.“ He pointed to his neck.

The tiefling dropped another book.

„Tell me!“, Astarion demanded again, louder.

„There’s no sigil on your neck“, came the quiet reply. „But… you really don’t know?“ He looked Astarion up and down. „I… look, I‘m sorry, alright? But if you don’t know, then I‘m not supposed to tell you, I think. I can’t have any more trouble.“

„You can’t be serious“, said Astarion.

„Quite, I‘m afraid“, affirmed the tiefling. „I‘m not putting my head on the line for some…“ he bit his tongue.

„Oh, go ahead and say it, dear.“ Astarion put some more weight on the book on the floor, smushing it a little with his foot.

The tiefling squealed. „Stop!“

„I will, if you say what you meant to say“, Astarion hissed, showing off his fangs.

Visibly upset about the book getting slowly crushed, the librarian sighed. „Vampire whore“, he sighed. „There. I hope you’re happy.“

Astarion kicked the book towards him. „Happy isn’t the word I‘d use. But the honestly is appreciated, I suppose.“ He watched another book fall. „Good luck with that.“

Then he turned on his heel and left for Raphael’s boudoir.

When he entered, Raphael was sitting at his desk once more, a strange symbol drawn on a parchment in front of him.
He was busy drawing some new lines here and there, glancing over to an opened tome every now and then.

Astarion stretched his neck to see, then snuck closer on tippy-toes. Perhaps he could catch a glimpse of whatever the devil was working on.

Closer, closer, silent as a mouse.

Just as the symbol, circular with jagged elongated symbols surrounding it, was in full view, Raphael spoke, making Astarion jump.

„I see you decided to show up in time, pet.“ His voice was calm, and he made no haste to hide the symbol, although he closed the book and folded the parchment. „Silent as a mouse, splendid. You’ll need to put these skills to the test.“

Astarion stood very still as the devil stood and turned around to him. „What is it?“, he asked, gesturing towards the table.

„Research“, Raphael replied, then pushed past him. „Nothing you need to concern yourself with.“

Astarion‘s gaze was lingering on the folded parchment. Although he didn‘t know exactly what constituted as a sigil, what the devil had been drawing did look like what he imagined a sigil to look like.

His heart, though unable to beat (let alone race), gave a painful squeeze.
What in the hells was the fiend doing?

There was a sharp pang of pain at the back of his thigh which made Astarion yelp and whip around.

Raphael had given him a slap with his tail.
„Didn‘t you hear me, pet?“

„I…“ Astarion rubbed the stinging spot. „What?“

„Your task.“ Great. Raphael seemed displeased already. „Come here.“

Astarion obeyed and stood where the devil wanted him. „You‘ll return to the mortal plane, to Baldur’s Gate, and steal a dagger for me. It is in the possession of the duke Ravengard‘s son.“

Astarion blinked. „You need me to break into Wyrm’s Rock Fortress, again?“ He scoffed. „I might have just picked it up when I got the necklace for you, last time.“

Raphael rolled his eyes. „The dagger hasn’t been there for long. In fact, I needed to search for it first.“ He snapped his fingers, summoning a goblet of blood to Astarion’s hands, which he reflexively caught. „Drink. You‘ll need your strength.“

Astarion looked at the blood steaming in the cup.
It was the elf from the dungeons, without a doubt. Now that Astarion knew his face, did he feel differently about enjoying his blood?

No, he decided as he drank.
He could hardly be blamed if this elf tasted this good.

After Astarion had finished, he said: „I got in and out of the fortress once. Why do you think this time will be any different?“

Raphael vanished the goblet. „Because, sweetling, Ravengard is no mere lordling mourning his late mother. In fact, he’s made quite the name for himself as a monster hunter. So, as a monster yourself, you should exercise caution when getting close to him.“

Astarion frowned, cocking his head. „Won’t he see I‘m a vampire, then?“

„He might. But just to be safe, I shall put a glamour on you.“

„A what?“

„Which eye colour would you like? Never mind, I think… blue will suit you quite well.“

Astarion just opened and closed his mouth as Raphael snapped his fingers, again, without giving him a chance to reply.

„That’s better“, said Raphael, smiling. He took Astarion by the chin and tilted his head back, then prompted him to open his mouth by squeezing his cheeks. „No sign of the fangs, either. Perfekt.“

Astarion made a muffled sound of protest, and Raphael released him. „Don’t just… magic around with my looks!“, Astarion exclaimed.

„Don’t worry, pet“, Raphael replied easily. „I‘ll be sure to ask, next time.“

„Next time?“ Astarion felt a hysterical laugh coming up. „Absolutely not, devil!“

„Don’t worry. You look quite fetching, spawn“, Raphael answered without missing a beat. „I‘ve merely tweaked your appearance to seem less, well, dead. You’re still quite pretty.“

Astarion scowled. „Keep telling me I‘m pretty, and I just might forgive you for yesterday.“

„Forgive me?“ Raphael barked a laugh. „I can do as I please with you, sweetling. I have no need of your forgiveness. Though it‘s almost cute, offering it to a devil.“

Astarion felt himself flush. Damn it all, did Raphael keep him fed only to retain his ability to blush? It would be just like him.

„Now, your equipment.“ Raphael gestured to the chest where Astarion knew his new things were waiting. „Get dressed.“

Astarion watched as Raphael sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and poured himself a generous serving of wine. All the while he didn‘t take his eyes off Astarion.
As it quickly became apparent, Astarion would change right here, and Raphael would watch.

Astarion sighed and resigned himself to the humiliating ordeal.

He started with his shirt, throwing it at the devil as hard as he could (which wasn’t all that hard), and wanted to continue, but froze when he saw the devil ball both hands in the fabric, and take a deep sniff.

His gold eyes remained on Astarion, but fluttered shut for just a moment.

Astarion shuddered, then went on to remove his pants. The faster he got this over with, the better.
Of course the bloody librarian chose this exact moment to enter the boudoir as well, having rearranged the books in his arms to an even more precarious looking stack.

„So sorry, Master Raphael! I beg your forgiveness for my tardiness! It was foolish of me, trying to carry all these at once… I promise I‘ll…“

Raphael raised a hand, interrupting him. „On my desk, if you please. Arrange them by author. Quietly. And Astarion? I didn‘t say you could stop.“

For an incredibly uncomfortable moment, Astarion’s eyes met the tiefling‘s, then they both got to their respective tasks.

Astarion continued stripping his clothes off, hands shaking, highly aware of Raphael’s eyes on him.

It was deadly quiet.

The librarian put the books on the table slowly, keen on not making any noise. His effort would have been funny, if Astarion hadn’t been getting the feeling that whoever made a sound first, would lose this game Raphael had involved them in.

Astarion was careful as he stepped out of the trousers, avoiding any unnecessary noise.

As he floundered to keep his balance, Raphael smirked a little, still clutching Astarion’s discarded shirt against his chest.

Finally, Astarion was fully nude, and he raised his head and turned his back on the fiend.

He heard Raphael draw a shaking breath, and froze, but the devil didn‘t say anything.

So, Astarion dressed in the clothes laid out for him in the chest.
He managed to put on his trousers and shirt, but as he tried putting on the jacket, which had changed to a classy black and gold, when Raphael unexpectedly moved very close behind him, hands closing around his lower arms.

Astarion jumped, but of course Raphael wouldn’t let him turn around. Instead, he began buttoning up his cuffs and pulling tight the laces.
His strong chest was pressed flush against his back.

„What are you…?“, Astarion hissed, but Raphael gave his arm a warning squeeze, interrupting him.

„Ah, ah. No talking now.“ The devil took a deep breath through his nose, then continued leisurely adjusting Astarion‘s suit.

Eventually he started nosing through Astarion’s hair, scenting him in that way Astarion didn‘t think he had experienced before.

He flinched when Raphael’s lips ghosted over the tip of his ear.

The devil chuckled. „Still so jumpy.“ He pulled the final strap tight, securing the knot with deft fingers. „Haven‘t we moved past this? Even after the dungeons?“

Especially after the dungeons, Astarion wanted to snap. But he remained, frozen in the devils hot embrace.

„Hm“, commented Raphael his silence. He grabbed a slim dagger from the chest and slipped it into the sheath worked into the pants at Astarion’s thigh. „Good boy.“

Astarion gritted his teeth. It quickly became clear to him that this specific moniker was his least favorite. He wasn’t a boy, and he wasn’t good, and he sure as hell wasn’t some dog.

So, knowing he was lining himself up for disaster, he snarled: „Are you going to fuck me, or do you want me to steal this little knife for you?“

This time, it was Raphael who froze.

Astarion couldn’t turn around, so he just turned his head a bit, so the devil understood he was talking to him. „You’re going to have to make up your mind, darling.“

Raphael violently turned him around and pushed him back against a shelf. A glass fell and shattered on the marble tiles.

The tiefling, still meticulously and silently laying out the books, gasped.

Raphael ignored him for the moment, fixing Astarion with his fiery golden stare. „What I want, pet, isn’t of interest now.“ As he spoke, he continued stashing away knives, daggers and tools on Astarion’s person, manhandling him with what bordered on aggression. „As I believe I recall, I told you multiple times that time is of the essence.“

Astarion growled as the devil’s hand squeezed his waist, tightly securing a belt, some spark of the proud predator awakening within him. Astarion quickly subdued his instinct and wrestled control back, but Raphael had noticed.

He made another step towards (or rather into) him, pinning Astarion to the shelf with his thigh. „If you wish to test your fangs on me, vampling, you’re welcome to. After you’ve brought me the dagger. And Astarion?“ He increased the pressure yet again. „Don’t fail me.“

Astarion held the burning gaze for another tense second or two, then cast his eyes down, nodding.

„Very good.“ Raphael released him. „One more thing. Since you’ll be leaving during the day…“ He produced a gold amulet from his pocket and put it around Astarion’s neck in a celebratory gesture. „I‘ll be giving you the amulet of the sunwalker for this mission. I know, isn’t it just exciting?“

Astarion was staring at the devil. „Does this count as…“

„No, this won’t count to your days off, pet. I‘m giving you the amulet to make sure Ravengard doesn’t recognize you as an undead. And to get you more time. Do with it what you will.“
The devil proceeded to fasten his cloak next, pulling it a bit tighter at Astarion’s neck than necessary. „Keep in mind this cloak won’t carry you during the day. It would be a shame to have to scrape you of the cobbled streets of the Gate, wouldn’t you agree?“

Astarion nodded, unsure of whether Raphael was done teaching his strange little lesson. He tucked the amulet beneath his shirt. „Anything else?“

„If you can, avoid killing Duke Ravengard‘s son. If you can’t avoid it, make sure the murder can’t be traced back to you.“ Raphael tapped the belt he just put on Astarion, drawing his attention to the flasks stashed away there.

„Two invisibility potions, this time. And since you might well need the other potions as well, I left them as they were. The dagger you’re going to steal for me: It’s fashioned of red and black steel. Rather intricate. I doubt you’ll miss it.“

Astarion nodded. „Does Ravengard carry it with him?“

„Possibly. You‘ll have to find out, I‘m afraid.“

„Fine.“ Astarion took a deep breath. „Am I to leave right now?“

„Yes. I suggest you make haste, little mouse. The faster I have the dagger in my possession, the better.“

„Well, alright. I better get going, then.“
Astarion waited for Raphael to move and let him leave his precarious position with his back against the shelf.

The devil held his gaze for a few long seconds, his tail lashing hard enough to produce a sharp rushing noise.
Finally he released Astarion and gestured towards the door. „Please. Good luck, little mouse.“

Astarion quickly slipped past him to the door, closed it behind him, and then broke into a sprint.

He needed to get away from Raphael.

Astarion ran through the hallways, his footsteps echoing loudly, especially after the uncomfortable silence in the boudoir.

He reached the portal room, and ran straight for the portal that would lead him to Baldur’s Gate.
It shimmered a bright brown and gold now. Clearly it was daytime.

Astarion‘s heart gave a lurch, something between joy, trepidation, and mortal fear.

He skidded to a halt only an inch or so away from the shimmering surface of the portal, the light already blinding him.

If he walked out there, the sunlight would quickly burn him to cinders. That was if the amulet he was wearing failed him.

Raphael had told him it would protect him from the sunlight, but really Astarion had no way of knowing if it was true.

With a shaking hand, he fumbled for the amulet to look at it.
It didn‘t feel or look special at all, for supposedly being such a powerful artifact.

Astarion clutched it tightly and looked at the portal, at the glittering specks of golden light flitting across the rippling surface.

He knew Raphael had no reason to trick him and send him to a fiery death, but centuries of fearing the sun were hard to shake as he was about to step out into the day.

Astarion took a deep breath, then stepped through.

The light was so bright Astarion was forced to squeeze his eyes shut, and the sting of it was almost enough to make him instinctively run for shelter.

But the light felt warm on his face, like a loving caress.

It didn’t hurt.

Astarion, half blind, but wanting to see, stumbled forward until he bumped into the railing, where he held on until his vision adjusted.

He looked up at Wyrm‘s Rock Fortress, bathed in golden light, colours like he had forgotten existed.

The vibrant green of the grass and trees, the way the sunlight shining through the canopies speckled the ground in an ever-moving beautiful pattern. How the sunlight almost made the red roof tiles look like they were glowing.
The deep blue of the sea, waves gleaming like gemstones, crested with glimmering white foam.
The golden glow of the wheat swaying in the fields, pushed to dance by the gentle ocean breeze.

For a while, Astarion just stood there and admired the view. Maybe for minutes, maybe for hours.

It took a patron stumbling out of a room
behind him to snap him out of his wonder. The huge half-orc pulled the courtesan close to him and gave her an extremely unpleasant looking kiss, before releasing her and joining Astarion at the railing.

„Damn, I‘ve never been sucked off like this“, he sighed.

Astarion wrinkled his nose. The half-orc smelled of sex, cheap cologne, old sweat and sour wine. „Good for you, darling“, Astarion replied dismissively, hoping the man would leave, but the half-orc decided to keep ruining his nice moment.

„I could go again, you know“, he grunted, moving closer to Astarion. „Would love to, actually. I like doing pretty boys like you, too. Why don’t we just take the free room? I got a gold or two to spare.“

„Excuse me?“ Astarion shrank back. „I don’t work here.“

The orc blinked down at him. „This your schtick or something? The uh… „reluctant virgin“ or something?“ He made a grab for Astarion and caught his wrist. „You can fight back, if you want.“

Astarion tried backing away, but was yanked closer, the man’s stench assaulting his senses.
He turned his face away, looking around for anyone to call over for help, but they were alone.
The doors were closed shut, the windows covered from the inside.
Nobody would come to help. They never did.

But this time, it was different. This time, Astarion could fight back.

The half-orc chuckled as he easily held Astarion close to his chest.
His free hand came up to Astarion’s face, still stinking of where he had touched the courtesan before, seeking to caress or hold him, Astarion didn‘t care which one. He pulled the dagger from his thigh, swiftly cut off the orc‘s thumb and pointer finger, then quickly drove him back and against the railing and silenced his scream of pain from behind with a slash to the throat.

The half-orc wheezed, holding his neck, and Astarion used the leverage to quickly topple him over the railing and into the river below.
Astarion watched the vile man struggle and splash around a bit, before eventually sinking.

Blessed silence, at last.

Astarion sighed, flicking the blood off his dagger.

It glimmered a beautiful and vibrant ruby red in the sunlight, and Astarion stopped for just a while longer, to admire it.

Chapter Text

Astarion sighed. He had probably wasted enough time just standing here (killing the half-orc didn‘t count as wasted time).

By having the prick face the river as he had cut his throat, he had escaped the spray of blood on his suit, but there was some evidence left.
A speck here and there, and two severed fingers in a small puddle of blood.

Astarion kicked the fingers off the edge to follow their owner into the river below, then picked up a bottle of red wine and deliberately dropped it, watching with a grin as the rich red liquid mingled with the blood, creating a large stain that completely made any trace of what had happened here disappear.

„Oh, clumsy me“, Astarion said as he looked around for any other traces of evidence of the casual murder he had just committed,
found none, and left for the stairs.

He adjusted his jacket as he went, ignoring the gazes of the patrons mingling around the tables. He wondered how different he looked with whatever changes Raphael had made to his appearance.

Judging by the looks people gave him, he was still very beautiful.
The universe was in order, then.
Or it might be, if Astarion got to see himself.

But best to focus on one impossible wish coming true: Walking in the sun.

Astarion hurried through Sharess‘ Caress, careful to avoid the cat and the Mamzell.
He didn‘t want to have to explain his new looks.

The establishment was almost empty as Astarion had never seen it before.

Abandoned glasses stood on sticky tables, remnants of wine and ale growing stale.
The last of the courtesans turned in for the day, evidence of the rough long night they had had all over their bodies and clothes.

Astarion caught a glimpse of the famous drow twins through a curtain, exhausted and white hair in obvious disarray.

As Astarion turned and went for the exit past the bar, he was met with a statue blocking his way.

„What in the hells…?“, he muttered, moving in for a closer look.

„Yeah, damn shame, that.“ The burly barmaid came up from behind the counter, startling Astarion. „It‘ll pass, mind you. He’s petrified, yeah, but it’s not permanent. That’s what the wizard said, anyway.“

„Petrified, you say?“, Astarion asked. „Because of some lover’s quarrel? You’ll simply have to tell me the details when I come back.“

„Oh, nothing as scandalous as that“, she replied. „Though, I wish. No, he had some of my new drink. Apparently there are side effects.“

„A… a drink?“ Astarion laughed. „Now I‘m curious darling.“

She smiled, though there was sadness in it. „It’s been my dream, creating a new great drink. I knew some magical effects might happen, but turns out some effects aren’t desirable. This chap has been petrified for over an hour now, and he‘ll want compensation. So, the Mamzell said I couldn’t sell my Hoot‘s Hootch anymore. So… yeah… I‘ll have to figure out what to do with my stock.“

Astarion leaned on the counter, avoiding any spills. „What was it supposed to do?“

„I dunno, just make you feel happy and good, I guess. But we had all sorts of stuff happening. Nothing dangerous! But still.“ She sighed. „Boss says no, so… that’s a no to selling it here.“

If that didn‘t sound useful, Astarion didn‘t know what did. Petrification and other non-lethal side effects.
It sounded perfect for causing chaos.
Maybe just what Astarion needed.
„You wouldn’t happen to have a few bottles left over, would you, dear?“

The barmaid froze. „What? You… you want some?“

„Yes.“ Astarion smiled. „To be honest, it sounds perfect for parties.“

She bellowed an incredulous laugh. „Fancyboy wants to prank his fancy friends? Who am I to say no? This one’s on me.“ She handed him a bottle with a purple label. „Just don’t mention my name, yes?“

„Never, darling.“ As if Astarion knew or cared about her name. He pocketed the drink. „Thank you.“

„Don’t mention it. Where are you off to, anyway? You look like you come straight from some ball in Wyrm’s Rock Fortress.“

„Maybe I did“, he replied, winking at her.
With his prize safely tucked away, Astarion pushed past the petrified man and out onto the street.

The market was on. Vendors were waving and hollering to attract customers, peddling paintings, food, clothes and jewellery.

Astarion found himself quickly bedazzled by the bustle and the diverse intensity of the colours.

He couldn’t believe it, but he had truly forgotten just how much colour there was in the world.
So he just wandered around and marvelled at the beauty of life, enchanted by what he saw. It must have been an hour, but the hells hadn’t yet come up to swallow him, so why not indulge and enjoy a bit of free time?

It took a dragonborn guard jostling him to snap him out of his captivation.

Right. He had a job to do.

But it was still early, so there really was no rush.

Astarion just so happened to wander past a jewellery stand. It was hardly his fault that these gems were glinting and sparkling so, inviting him closer, teasing him.

Scanning the roster with his expression showing as little interest as possible (he did not want to be addressed by the shopkeeper), he found he liked the yellow toumaline, as it was marked, the best.

It’s golden glint would remind him of the sun when he was back in avernus.

Nicking the gemstone was hardly a challenge. The shopkeeper was distracted trying to sell a pearl necklace to an elderly woman, so Astarion quickly slipped the gem into his pocket as he turned to leave the stand.

Now he could go.
Off to the Fortress it was.

Astarion made his way along the bridge, dodging carts and crowds as he went.
Like last time, he slipped into a lonely corner, waited for until no-one looked his way, then downed his first invisibility potion.
This, like last time, allowed him to simply walk into the fortress and eavesdrop a little.
He needed to learn where Ravengard was staying, and what to expect of the man.

He knew the way to the audience hall by now.
The knowledge would leave him with more time to spend invisible upstairs.
More time to sulk about and listen to all this delicious gossip.

Astarion was careful to keep an eye out for Wyll, too. He wasn’t keen on running into the vampire hunter again, even while invisible.

Surely he‘d recognize him, even if Raphael had altered his red eyes, fangs and pale skin to appear mortal.

Astarion still had a few good minutes until the potion wore off.
He carefully snuck over to a group of chattering nobles to listen in.

„…prices will go up, I told you. I told you this would happen“, a snobby looking old man said.

A younger woman replied, nursing a goblet of wine. „And they‘ll go down again. Who cares if it’s a bit more now. It’s not like it would land you on the streets.“

A chuckle from a half elf lady in an ornate ruby dress: „Not us, no. But once you get older you’ll see the risk. Prices go up, and we might have a revolt on our hands.“

„Hear hear.“

Astarion had grown bored after the first sentence had ended, and he left for another group.
These nobles were also speaking of deliveries and shipments. Entirely boring.
Maybe, if he looked for the Duke, he’d find his son as well.

Astarion headed for what he thought was the office door (it looked important enough), and peeked through the keyhole, ignoring the bored looking guard standing next to it.
Bingo.

The old Duke Ravengard sat at a large desk, feather in hand, scribbling something down on a piece of parchment.

So, duke Ravengard. Stern face, dark skin, tall and muscular. It reminded Astarion of Wyll, enough to make him shudder in discomfort.

Back to business.

Where was the Duke’s son, and how would Astarion find him without making it too obvious?

Just this moment, Astarion felt his fingers tingle. Any second he’d turn visible again, so he’d need to get away from the door and out of the guard‘s sight.

He swiftly ducked behind a pillar, just in time for his body to turn visible again.

A young man turned around to him, surprised. „Oh! By the gods, you startled me.“

„Apologies“, Astarion replied. „I… I tripped. I‘m such a klutz.“

„Ah. Yes, me too.“ The man replied, eyes wandering over Astarion’s elegant form. „I hope you’re not hurt.“

„Aw, don’t worry about me. I‘m perfectly fine, darling.“
He remembered the last time he had been here. The old lady hadn’t questioned his presence here, but had noted she hadn’t seen him before.
Maybe a similar story to the one he told her would work here. Depending on how gullible the young man was.

„You…“ The man swallowed. „So you are. Say… uhm… I don’t think I‘ve seen you here before. Do you have business in the Gate?“

„Yes“, Astarion readily replied, happy to have the man offer him a story. He wouldn’t even have to come up with any lies by himself. „Honestly, I didn’t want to go, but I heard Lord Ravengard’s son has returned. I just had to hear all about it.“

„News travel fast“, the noble said, but didn’t seem suspicious. „He‘s only been welcomed back, what, not even a tenday ago, I think.“

„So, what’s the story?“, Astarion asked, letting a bit of intrigue sink into his voice. He inched a bit closer conspiratorially.

The noble played along. „Oh, wait until you hear this! In his exile, apparently, he turned to monster hunting. It turns out he suspected a monster within the very walls of the city. So, he snuck in and exposed this noble, ah, what’s his name, whatever! Anyway, half of the Gate‘s elite is affected.“

Astarion’s heart was racing. Just how many monsters were there in the city? As if a vampire lord wasn’t enough. Unless…

„Really? How brave“, said Astarion. „What kind of monster was this?“ His voice was scarcely shaking.

„Ah, I forget. A ghoul? Does it matter, really? Monsters are all the same, if you ask me.“

„Of course“, Astarion laughed, but it sounded forced even to him.

„Are you alright? You look a bit pale.“

„Yes“, Astarion shook his head, scrambling for words. „Of course. Just… ugh the idea of a ghoul or somesuch just hiding within the Gate, among the nobility. You can’t trust anyone, can you?“

„Indeed“, the man agreed.

„Hard to believe!“, Astarion exclaimed, trying to mimic the tone of the other nobles gossiping nearby. „I‘d love to hear it from the young Lord Ravengard himself. Say, is he present?“ Best to get back to business.

Astarion needed to get his mind off the monster hunter who had almost gotten him just… a tenday or so ago. Could it be this had been young Ravengard? Surely not! There had to be monsters in the city other than Cazador. And hunters other than Wyll.

„Just left his office an hour ago, I think.“ The noble shrugged, pointing to a locked room across the hall.

Well, how convenient for Astarion.
He really ought to ask for the treasury next, while he was at it.

„Aw, that’s a shame. I suppose I‘ll just wait for him here.“

„How do you find the company?“, the noble asked with a wink.

Oh, now he was flirting.
Goodie.

How was Astarion finding the company? Useful. Gullible.

„If you’re asking how I find you“, he purred, then suddenly realized he didn‘t need to woo the man. He had gotten everything he needed from him. „Utterly average, I‘m afraid.“ He smiled his most dazzling smile as he watched the noble‘s face fall. „I have high standards, darling. Try again after doing something with your hair.“

Like an especially daft goldfish, the noble opened and closed his mouth, then sulked off, refilling his goblet of wine as he went.

Astarion grinned. This was fun. He should try it more often.

He should try it with Raphael.

Pleased with himself, Astarion looked after the man, then made his way over to the door he has indicated.

He casually reached for the handle (with any luck, he wouldn’t even have to crack open the door), and found it locked.
Which was no problem for him technically… but with this many people in the room, a fair number of them throwing glances every now and then, he‘d surely be caught.
He could use the second invisibility potion, but he decided he’d rather save it for an emergency.

Just in case his hunch about young Ravengard was right. But either way he needed to be careful around any monster hunter.

Best hold onto the potion, then.
So, if he couldn’t get in through the door, there was always the window.
And Astarion had only recently discovered his vampiric ability to spider climb.

He grinned in anticipation, then walked over to the next room and found the door locked. The next room wasn’t, so Astarion waltzed in like he was meant to be here, then used his tools to lock it from the inside.

So far, so good. Now, was there anything to steal before he moved on? (Anything to get his mind off the actual mortal danger he was about to put himself in.)
Since this seemed to be an empty guest room, there really wasn’t much, except some books and decoration. Normally, Astarion wouldn’t have bothered, but left without any good options, he nicked a golden letter opener.

Astarion tested his climbing ability on a wall inside the room, crawling up and from side to side like a scuttling insect, then straight on to the window.

It should have been disconcerting, just crouching at the wall face down, but it felt weirdly natural.
He really should do it more.

The window opened with a click, and Astarion scuttled outside, giving the neighbouring window a wide pass, then peeked into the young lord Ravengard‘s office.

Empty, just like the noble had said.
Instead of just opening the window, Astarion first looked for any traps.

Once, Cazador had grown suspicious of someone (Astarion) breaking into his office, so he had trapped the door.

Astarion had spent the entire day with his hands painfully stuck to the scalding lock, until his master found him.
The punishment for this transgression had lasted weeks and left him with a feeling of dread whenever he saw tweezers now.

Astarion shuddered, trying to shake off the memory.

Focus, dammit!

Carefully he felt along the glass surface of the window. There was no telltale subtle warmth or tension to it, so no magical traps as far as Astarion knew.

Astarion readied his probing rod and carefully inserted it, peeking into the opening mechanism as best as he could.

When he didn‘t detect any mechanical traps either, Astarion opened the window and ducked out of the way, fearing he had missed something.
But no, there was nothing. No fire, no arrows or blades, or acid.

Astarion quickly slipped inside.
He had to hurry. There was no telling as to when Ravengard would return.

So, Astarion began rifling though drawers immediately, trying to disturb the papers he found as little as possible.

And that was mostly what he found.
Damn papers.
They weren’t even interesting, mostly terrible poetry.
And the books? The worst of romance novels.

Ugh.

Maybe he‘d have more luck with the chest in the corner.
Locked.

Hm, that meant something precious was inside.

Just as Astarion readied his lockpicking tools, there was the distinct clink of a key being readied just outside the door.

Astarion nearly jumped out of his skin and barely managed not to noisily stumble backwards.

The window was on the far side of the room. He might not make it in time.
So, reflexively, he scrambled up the wall and found himself on the ceiling, pinning himself into the darkest corner he could find.

The door opened.

Astarion held his breath, freezing in place.
A young, dark skinned man hurriedly entered the room, opening the drawer and sorting through the papers.
Astarion‘s entire body turned cold with shock, and it felt like falling into icy water.

It was Wyll.
The young Lord Ravengard was Wyll.

Astarion closed his eyes to calm himself, but the memories came back unbidden.
The look on Wyll’s face when he saw Astarion in the abandoned palace, when it had dawned on him that he wasn’t a victim at all, but his quarry.
Astarion had seen the exact moment when Wyll had resolved to kill him.
A sharp unforgiving edge glinting in his dark eyes, when there had been nothing but warmth and pity before.

Astarion shut the memory out.
Wyll hadn’t gotten him then, and he wouldn’t now.

But still, this task had become a lot more complicated. He couldn’t just talk Ravengard into letting down his guard, or showing him the dagger, or even lure him to bed.
The hunter would recognize him, fangs and red eyes or no.

So, Astarion mustn’t be seen.

Wyll, meanwhile, had found what he had been looking for. Some sort of drawing, Astarion had trouble seeing from his spot on the ceiling.

The young man pocketed the paper, picked up a notebook, then turned around to the window with a frown.

„That’s odd.“ He looked outside, then scanned the room, thankfully leaving out the ceiling.
Then he shrugged, closed the window, then left for the door.

As soon as the lock clicked, Astarion climbed down from his hiding place. He was shaking all over, but there was no time to regain his composure.
He needed to stick close to Wyll to find this damn dagger for Raphael, because it wasn’t here.

Astarion took a few seconds longer than normal to unlock the door from the inside, then he peeked through the keyhole, just to see if anyone was looking his way.
Since Wyll was still moving away, most nobles in the hall were glancing after him.
It was now or never.

Astarion quickly downed the second potion of invisibility, hoping Wyll wouldn’t take any longer than 10 minutes to get to wherever he kept the dagger.
Then he slipped out the door, leaving it open, and followed the young Lord Ravengard.

Wyll walked briskly through the hall, nodding politely at the nobles who greeted him, but he thankfully didn‘t stop for smalltalk.

He went down a set of stairs, then down a dark hallway, and finally went to open a crude looking wooden door.

Astarion hurried up to slip in behind the man, then snuck into a corner to catch his breath and quieten his rising panic.

Wyll had turned around once as Astarion had passed him, and scanned the room again.

„Mizora?“, he asked, frowning at the dark corners of the room. „For gods‘ sake, I‘m on it.“ Muttering, he turned around to what looked like a workbench.

With his back turned, Wyll seemed much less likely to stake Astarion, so he relaxed somewhat and looked around. He was standing next to an armour stand, fully equipped with a familiar leather set, and a silver rapier.

Astarion shuddered and inched away from the poisonous metal, then resumed his examination of the room.

There was no window, and otherwise little furniture, mostly barrels and crates for storage.
And the workbench Wyll was bending over in deep focus. He opened a smaller box and took out an eerily familiar dagger.

Astarion involuntarily gasped when he recognized the Needle, the very knife Cazador had used to carve his wretched poem into his back. The scars he left there that night tingled uncomfortably, and Astarion‘s muscles locked, making him stand still as a statue. His heart gave a painful squeeze.

Wyll turned his head a bit, bit didn‘t look up from his work as Astarion began to well and truly panic.

His first instinct was to just stab Wyll and get this whole thing over with, but he was utterly frozen in place, thoughts racing.

What in the sweet hells did Raphael want with this dagger? Why did he have to send Astarion to retrieve it? He didn’t even want to touch it. Fuck!

„Gods“, muttered Wyll, taking a sip from a goblet. He was examining the dagger and taking notes.

Astarion hastily checked his pockets for something, anything to get himself out of this situation. He fumbled through his potions, but found nothing to just vanish Wyll and this wretched dagger.

Instead he found himself suddenly holding the bottle of ale he had gotten in Sharess‘ Caress.

Getting drunk out of his mind might help Astarion‘s nerves, but not his situation.
But wait… wasn’t there some weird magic going on with this drink?

Maybe it could work for Astarion after all.
He didn‘t take long to find a cup resting on a crate somewhere, probably mindlessly put there, and forgotten.

Wyll, meanwhile, began to tinker with the dagger, and thankfully made some noise.

Very quietly, Astarion removed the cork and poured some of the mystery magic drink.
Now all he needed to do was to switch the goblet for the cup, and hope Wyll took a good swig.

He only had a few more minutes of invisibility left, so he wasted no time. Quiet as a mouse, he snuck to Wyll’s side.

He should just stab him in the neck and be done with this. Or use his poison instead of the magic ale. Hells, it would be easy!
But Raphael had told him to avoid murdering the boy, if at all possible. Astarion didn‘t want to risk punishment, not if he could still salvage this.

So, Astarion switched out the cups when Wyll had just turned his head to take a note, then retreated into the back of the room, setting down the goblet.

Wyll didn‘t seem to have noticed. He froze as if he had heard something, then returned to his work.

Astarion breathed a sigh of relief. Now, all Wyll had to do was drink and turn to stone or something, preferably before Astarion turned visible again.

Come on now…

Wyll absent-mindedly made a grab for the cup, nursing it for a while, then cursed, made another note, wiped his brow, and finally drank the ale in one big gulp.

„Ugh!“ Ravengard immediately yelled in disgust, looking at the cup. „What the… hells!?“

Astarion flinched at the sudden reaction, and his elbow brushed the damn silver rapier.

He couldn’t bite back a hiss and an involuntary cringe.

Wyll whipped around and immediately spotted the goblet Astarion had set down.
Frowning, he moved closer, his dark eyes scanning the room‘s dark corners.

Astarion moved backwards to avoid Wyll literally walking into him, fumbling for his daggers.

He‘d choose his life over punishment, naturally, but he was still invisible.

Wyll couldn’t see him.

Why wasn’t he turning to stone, or something? Didn‘t the drink affect him?
No matter. It was fine.

Wyll couldn’t see him.

Astarion was safe.

Then, the hunter uttered two words: „Facere Invisibilis.“

Something like a warm soft gust of wind moved over Astarion, and Wyll‘s gaze found him.

Astarion stood there, frozen, clearly visible again, with his back against the wall and Wyll Ravengard literally just an inch in front of him.

„What…? It’s… you! Spawn!“ Wyll jumped back and made a grab for the rapier.

Astarion drew his dagger and clumsily deflected a blow aimed at his ribs, stumbling to the side.

He was too shocked to retaliate, but dodged another blow.

Then, Wyll disarmed him with a flourish and yelled: „Lux diei!“

A blinding flash of light made him yell and cover his eyes, then he felt the silver blade pierce his leg.

Astarion wailed as he went down, the silver burning and poisoning him.

An unbearable cold seeped through his body, making him shake and twitch on the cold stone floor.

Blinking the tears from his eyes, he pulled another dagger and swung it for Wyll‘s calf. His limbs were stiff, and so his aim was off, but he pierced the muscle close to the back of Wyll’s knee.

The hunter hissed with pain, then kicked the blade from his hands.

Half blind with agony any fear, Astarion tried getting to his potions, but Wyll pointed the tip of his rapier at his face.

„Don’t move.“

Astarion kicked out for the hunter, only to immediately receive another slash to the upper arm. He couldn’t bite back a yelp when the silver sapped any warmth left from his body. His skin was rapidly greying where the poison spread.

„I said don’t move!“

Astarion froze, staring up at him, holding the fresh wound.

„Put your hands where I can see them.“

Astarion did, shaking. Dark blood oozed lazily from his leg and arm.

„I‘ve been wondering if you had survived that day, spawn“, Wyll said, not taking his eyes off him. „You’re glamoured, but it is you. What are you doing here?“

Astarion snarled up at him, although his fangs weren’t visible to Wyll.

„Ah, I see.“ Ravengard’s eyes narrowed. „Just a monster after all, hm?“ He nudged Astarion’s chin, making him hiss with the cold burn. „You’re going to tell me where your master is hiding, and why he sent you.“

Astarion squirmed. The last thing he wanted was to be threatened and tortured by this… boy!
But Wyll had him.

Any move, and Wyll might incapacitate him completely.
But then again, Astarion had to risk it.

Just as he prepared for another desperate attempt to get away, Wyll made a strange noise, like a strangled hiccup.

Astarion and him stared at each other in bewilderment for a few seconds.

Then Wyll began to grow in size, quickly bumping into the ceiling, but he kept getting bigger, until he was forced to duck, then awkwardly kneel.

His rapier simply slipped through his huge fingers.

The hunter yelled, trying to scramble away, but the room was quickly growing too small for him.
„Argh, what…the… hells!“

Astarion quickly picked himself up off the floor and began to stumble across the room, avoiding Wyll‘s giant feet and hands as he went.

He supported himself on the workbench and grabbed the dagger, the Needle, this wretched cursed thing.

Although he wanted to throw it away, he held onto it, then took off towards the door.

Or he tried to.
His injured leg gave out and he fell flat to the floor.

„Fuck…!, he hissed, trying to get back to his feet.

There was a whooshing noise, then the tippy-tap of tiny feet came towards him.

Astarion rolled over and scrambled back, ready to defend himself, then froze when he saw Wyll, now extremely tiny, run towards him.

But as he watched the monster hunter, Wyll
began to grow again, and Astarion decided he didn‘t want to stick around until he was his normal size again.

Despite his wounds slowing him down, not to mention the silver poisoning, Astarion opened the door and ran, hobbled, crawled down the hallway as fast as he could.

With his free hand, he fumbled for the vials hidden in his jacket, and he threw them over his shoulder, first the grease, then the sneeze powder.

He heard Wyll begin to viciously sneeze, then the satisfying thud of someone falling, as Ravengard slipped on a puddle of grease.

Aha! Astarion found his healing potions, but as he struggled to open the vial, he stumbled down the stairs, bumping into a guard, and lost it.

Of course the vial shattered.

„Hey, watch it!“, the guard yelled.

Astarion kept running. He had no idea when Wyll would recover and come for him, but he wasn’t about to push his luck and dally around.

He practically fell down the next set of stairs, head over heels, then dragged himself through the entrance hall and towards the bridge.

Guards were coming after him, which wasn’t surprising as he was bloodied, clutching a probably priceless dagger, and running like a madman.

He was out of potions, out of ideas, and his strength was rapidly waning.
It hit him like lightning, then.

He wouldn’t make it to Sharess‘ Caress.

The guards would catch up to him before he could make it even halfway.

Finally remembering his boots, Astarion used „Misty Step“ to go as far as he could, ending up slipping and falling somewhere on the market, then he Misty Stepped again, aiming to reach the cliffs beneath the bridge, hoping he could hide there.

A guard hurled a spell after him, but Astarion was gone, reappearing on a rocky slope in the shadow of the bridge.

He heard the guards swarm out above him, weapons being drawn, magic crackling.

„Where did he go?“

„Check the market. You, the shops“, one of the guards began directing his fellows. „He can’t have gone far, even with magic.“

Astarion gritted his teeth when a rock gave way beneath his hand, and clattered down the cliff and into the sea.

Fuck, if he fell, he’d burn in the running water.

No amulet would save him from this fate, as it hadn’t helped against the silver, either.

„Raphael…!“, whispered Astarion. It sounded like a prayer. „Help, please…! I need help!“

„Check below the bridge“, someone said, and Astarion froze, now well and truly panicking.

„Raphael!“ He dragged himself a bit further up, his injured arm protesting with an angry throb, before giving out. The silver was slowly paralysing him. He clutched the dagger to his chest, continuing his frantic whispering: „I have the dagger, please…! Fuck, please get me out of here…!“

A guard climbed over the railing of the bridge and dropped down to Astarion. „Ah, there you are“, he said, grinning, then shouted: „I got him! Cut him off on the other side!“

Astarion shrank back into the shadows, trying to get his shaking fingers to grip for one of his spare weapons, but the cold of the poison was close to rendering him immobile.
Desperate to keep the guard away, Astarion threw the dagger, but missed by quite a lot.

Pathetic.

The guard came for him quickly now. Just when Astarion managed to stand (shakily with his weight on one leg), he shoved Astarion back against the rocky base of the bridge, slamming him against the stone.
Astarion scrambled to stay upright, but the impact had made him dizzy, his field of view foggy.

With surprising efficiency, the guard threw him to the ground face first, then kneeled on his back to pin him down, wrestling the dagger, the Needle, from his faltering grip.

No! Astarion squirmed, fighting for air he didn‘t need.

„Calm down“, the guard growled. „Or this will be worse for you.“

Struggling against the guard‘s grip, Astarion felt tears burn in his throat.

He couldn’t fail.
He just couldn’t.

There was no telling what would happen to him in prison, especially if his vampiric nature was discovered.

Why hadn’t Raphael come and saved him?

The guard twisted his arms onto his back with shocking efficiency, then Astarion heard the clink of iron.

With the last of his energy, Astarion reared up, kicking and screaming, trying to get the guard off of him before he was bound in iron.

The guard grunted and gripped him tighter, then slammed him back down, tying his hands with little regard for Astarion’s desperate fighting.
The man was so much stronger than him.

The noise of heavy boots closed in. Reinforcements showing up to take Astarion to prison (if he was lucky).

As Astarion needlessly scrambled, pinned beneath the guard, a sudden intense heat surged up inside of him, threatening to consume him from the inside out.

Cinders rose up from his skin, his clothes and armour smouldering.

Astarion screamed.

Chapter Text

Astarion screamed with pain, and so did the guard.

And then, Astarion just… slipped free. His vision turned red and black, and his body lost its form and dissolved into mist, making the guard tumble to the ground, shouting in confusion.

Then, Astarion regained his form, lying flat on the ground.
Free, but… feeble. Tiny.

The guard stared down at him, and Astarion squeaked.

Squeaked?

Astarion tried to speak, but nothing but frankly adorable tiny noises escaped him.

The other guards had stopped too, gaping down at Astarion.

„Er… get it!“, a woman shouted, shaking off her stupor.

Astarion jumped when three guards came for him, confused when his legs wouldn’t quite work. He couldn’t get up, and his arms were too weak to lift his upper body.
What in the hells was happening?

Then an intense heat swelled up all around Astarion and the guards, and Korilla appeared next to him beneath the bridge.

„Gentlemen, please“, she said. „This is all just a misunderstanding.“

„Don’t move!“, the woman called, and Astarion saw her ready her spear.

Korilla sighed, then put her hands up. „Do you mind telling me where my friend is? Pretty high elf, white hair?“

„Get me the hells out of here!“, Astarion screamed, but all that came out was a series of adorable squeals and squeaks.

Thankfully, the dwarf heard him. She turned, her eyes scanning the ground, then she found him just laying there. Her eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened as a beaming smile spread on her face.

„Oh, aww! You’re just… Awwww! Come here, to me.“ She stretched out her hand towards him.

Astarion hissed, but crawled towards her, eyeing the guards as he went.

Apparently he wasn’t fast enough. Korilla grabbed him with one hand (the audacity!) and put him onto her shoulder.
By the gods, how tiny was he?

Then she turned back towards the guards. „Now, back to business“, she said, raising both hands and unleashing a fiery storm that engulfed every one of the guards present.

There was a brief rush of flames, and the air was ringing with the dying screams of the men.

And then it was over.

Astarion stared in disbelief as the fire died down and the ashes of the guards were swept away into the river below. It had only taken a few seconds.

„Where’s the dagger?“, Korilla asked. „Did you have it on you when you turned?“

„Turned into what?“, Astarion wanted to say, but again, he could only adorably squeak.

Korilla giggled. „Look at youuu! You’re so fackin‘ cute! Aight, we‘ll figure this out later“, she added when Astarion’s squeals turned unmistakably angry. „Now, where’s… aha!“ She picked up the dagger. „You got it. Good. Good work.“

Astarion relaxed a little.

Korilla looked around for witnesses, then snapped her fingers and teleported them both away from the grisly site.

She didn’t bring them back to the House of Hope, but instead to a calm meadow, with a creak bubbling nearby.

Astarion looked up at the dwarf questioningly.

„Raphael is occupied“, the dwarf explained. „He‘ll signal when we can return. He thought you’d take longer. Now, what do we do about this little situation?“ She held up a hand, offering Astarion to crawl onto it. When he didn‘t (he had his pride), she simply grabbed him again.

„Hold still“, she said. „I just want to get a look at what magic this is.“

Astarion bit her finger in protest, but he couldn’t get through the leather glove she was wearing.

„Aw come now, you’re being rude now!“, Korilla chided him. „I‘m trying to help, you damn leech!“

She removed the glove from her other hand and muttered an incantation. Her finger began to glow in a dark red light.

Astarion squealed, this time in fear, and tried to get away, but she only gently touched his head, the tip of her finger easily big enough to cover his face.

Whatever she did, it didn‘t hurt, so Astarion reduced his fighting to a weak squirm. Just because it didn‘t hurt, didn‘t mean he enjoyed being touched.

Korilla removed her finger. „Like I thought. You did this yourself. You should be able to change back.“

Astarion cocked his head.

„You don’t even know what you turned into, do you?“

Astarion shook his head.

„You’re the most adorable little bat!“ Korilla laughed. „So cute! Look at your little wings! Gods, look at your widdle face!“

A bat? That would explain his weak legs and thin but heavy arms… wings.
By the gods they were cumbersome. Astarion awkwardly lifted his them and nearly toppled off Korilla‘s hand. His wings were delicate and covered in a soft white fuzz.

Fuck. He really was cute.

Hells, why, of all things, did it have to be a bat? Was it another vampiric ability, perhaps? But what business did a vampire spawn have transforming into a bat?

Korilla gently ran her thumb over his head, and Astarion batted her finger away and hissed.

„Ugh, fine! No touching, I got it.“ Korilla sighed. „You hurt?“

Astarion nodded, but then realized his wounds didn‘t hurt any longer. So he shook his head.

Korilla sighed. „Wait. Let me try something.“ She muttered something, then gestured to Astarion. „Try saying somethin, now.“

„Try petting me again, and I‘ll rip out your throat.“ It came out a squeals, but Korilla grinned.

„Ah, so you’re okay?“

„You understand me now?“

„Yes. Little trick I learned a while back.“ She smiled and sat down. „Where do you want to sit? I assume you don’t wanna be talked down to.“

Astarion tried his best to look down his nose at her, instead. „I don’t“, he agreed. „But I‘d rather not remain in this damn rodent‘s body. Can’t you… I don’t know, magic me back to normal?“

„I could reverse it if it was a curse, or something, but like I said: You did this yourself. Now, where do you want to sit, because you can’t stay on my hand like this.“

Astarion sniffled. „Your shoulder, then.“

„Good.“ She gently set him down on her shoulder again. „See what you get from talking?“

Astarion made himself comfortable, then sighed. „Will Raphael be upset with me?“

„He certainly won’t be happy about the stir you caused“, she readily replied. „But you did get the dagger, and he’s got a soft spot for you, so…“ She shrugged, shaking Astarion through to his tiny bones. „It might not be that bad.“

Astarion rubbed his freakish nose with his wing. „I didn‘t… I know this dagger. It belonged to my master. And I know Ravengard too.“ He sighed. „I didn‘t expect to see both again, today.“

„Threw you off?“, Korilla asked. She picked up a pebble and tossed it into the creak.

„Well, yes. And because he recognized me, Raphael’s glamour didn‘t do anything to help me against him. And he just… undid my invisibility, and…“ Astarion stopped. „I don’t know why I‘m telling you this.“

„Oh no, keep goin!“, she encouraged him. „Raphael probably doesn’t want to hear it. Excuses and all that.“ She waved her hand. „So, do go on.“

„I… actually I‘d rather not“, said Astarion.

„Still shaken, are ya?“

„That’s a bit of an understatement, darling.“

Korilla nodded. „I‘d pet ya, but you‘d bite me finger off.“ She sighed.

Astarion did as well.

„You‘re shaking, you know“, she informed him.

And he was. He was shaking like a leaf. „Yes, well, I just almost died.“

„That’s probably why you can’t turn back. It‘ll come easily once you’ve calmed down a little.“

„Did you just tell me to calm down?“, Astarion groused. „You never tell that to people.“

„True. Sorry. Just tryna help.“

There was an awkward silence, only interrupted by the happy bubbling of the creek.
Astarion watched the setting sun‘s orange light dance on the water.

„Thank you, by the way, for saving me“, he muttered.

„You’re welcome“, she replied easily. „But Raphael did send me as quickly as he could. Don’t let me take all the credit.“

Another awkward silence. Korilla took out the dagger, the Needle, and examined it.

Astarion bristled, and felt his fur actually stand up on edge. „Do you mind keeping this far away from me?“

The dwarf didn‘t seem to hear him. „Hm?“

„That thing! Put it away!“

„I‘m not done looking at it. Look, I get you got hurt with this, badly. But I‘m not gonna do anything. Just… relax, would you?“

Astarion stared at her, examining her face. How did she know about the Needle? How did she know what had been done to him?
Korilla seemed distracted by the dagger in her hands, not realizing her mistake yet. Astarion decided not to correct her. Maybe he could learn more about what she knew. How she knew, (because it had to be Raphael) he’d worry about later.

„Did you know there’s a wooden core in this? Neat! You could stake a vampire with this, no need to get an actual stake.“

Astarion shuddered. „That‘s… good to know.“

„There’s magic in this, too. Damn, I‘d actually love to keep this.“

„Do keep it, for all I care“, Astarion hissed.

„Oh, come on, don’t be like that“, Korilla said. „Like you wouldn’t love having this under any other circumstances.“

„If you’re done staring at it“, Astarion snarled, „do you think we could get back to the problem at hand?“

„What problem?“

„Me being this… damn rodent!“, Astarion barked, shocked at the high pitched squeak coming out of his mouth.

„Oh, but that’s not a problem“, Korilla giggled. „You‘ll turn back eventually.“

„Will I now, dear? And how?“

„Aight“, she sighed. „Well, how did you turn in the first place? Happened when that guard had you pinned, right?“

Astarion made a tiny frustrated growling noise. „Yes, but I don’t know. I don’t know, it just… happened.“

„Then I‘m sure your turning back will „just happen“, too.“ She nodded reassuringly. „Okay? You’re not gonna stay like this forever. You‘ll calm down eventually, and everything is gonna sort itself out.“

Astarion glared at her.

„I promise, aight?“

„Fine“, Astarion snapped, turning back to watching the bubbling water of the creek. „I‘ll hold you to that.“ Korilla watched him instead, right until Astarion had about enough, just a few seconds in. „What?“

„I just noticed your widdle head still has these widdle curls“, she cooed, wiggling her fingers towards him. Astarion swatted at her with his wing, hissing. „Ouch, haha, I‘m sorry! If you could see yourself, you’d understand!“

„Don’t call me cute again“, Astarion said with what he hoped was conviction. „I mean it!“

„Fine, I won’t. But I won’t stop thinking it.“ She grinned.

„I almost bloody died today, you could at least give me a break.“

„Oi, I saved you, didn‘t I? And I could just put you on the ground, instead you get to sit nice and cozy on my shoulder.“

Astarion noted her body heat seeping through her clothes and light armour, and cozied down a bit, puffing up his fur. „It is a very comfortable shoulder“, he conceded. Noting how that warmth chased away the last remnants of the icy cold of the silver, Astarion noticed just how tired he was. He yawned, then lowered his head onto dwarf‘s shoulder. „How long do you think we‘ll have to wait? I‘m tired.“

„Not much longer, probably“, she replied. „Nobody said you couldn’t sleep, through. Or whatever it is elves do.“

„I‘m not going to nap on your shoulder!“, Astarion shrilly protested.

Korilla burst out laughing. „Why not?“, she snorted.

Astarion turned up his nose at her. „I‘ve got SOME pride.“

„You’re silly is what you are!“ Korilla giggled. „Just rest up, come on.“

„I have far too much on my mind“, said Astarion.

The dwarf grew serious again. „I can imagine. But you know I can’t tell ya some stuff.“

„…Like why Raphael wanted me to steal this dagger, I presume?“

„Exactly like that, yeah.“

„I thought so“, Astarion sighed. „So, what CAN you tell me about that?“

Korilla thought for a moment. „Nothing“, she said eventually. „Sorry.“

„Nothing, really?“, Astarion asked. „Is he that afraid I‘m going to run once I find out what he’s got planned?“ He huffed. „It’s not like I‘m going anywhere.“

„Who says he’s planning anything?“ Korilla laughed awkwardly.

„You are, right now“, Astarion replied coolly (or as coolly as he could in his current adorable state).

„Shit“, she conceded. „Yeah, sorry.“

Astarion fidgeted with his wings. „So… uh… if you can’t tell me anything… maybe you have some advice?“

She looked at him, and there was that regretful, sad glint in her eyes again.

„You’re… you’re scaring me, darling“, Astarion tried to chuckle, but it got stuck somewhere in his throat.

Korilla forced a smile. She raised her hand as if to pet him, but thought better of it. „Don’t be scared“, she said. „Try, at least, yeah?“

Astarion‘s squeak was almost unbearably shrill. „How, pray tell, am I not supposed to be scared right now?!“

Flinching, the dwarf looked back at the water. „It won’t change anything. You‘ve been through lots of scary shit, haventcha? You can handle this.“

Astarion stared up at her, wide-eyed and tiny mouth agape. The urge to try to run made his limbs tingle.

An iron glint entered her eyes, then. „I can feel you tensing up, friend. Don’t try anything. Please, aight? I don’t wanna hurtcha.“

Astarion shuddered. „Like I could even run like this.“ He lowered his head back down on her shoulder. „Even if I got past you, Raphael would…“

„Yeah.“ She rubbed her eyes. „Look, I probably already told you too much. Wanna talk about something else?“

„Like what? Our Master’s favourite torture methods? Our favourite wines, what?“ He sighed. „It’s no good. I can’t even taste the stuff.“

„You really can’t?“

„Not since I grew fangs and my eyes turned red.“ Astarion blinked. „Are they still red, by the way? Raphael glamoured me, but I turned into a bloody bat.“

„They’re red“, she replied. „Beedy little red round eyes. But I‘ve seen you drink wine.“

„Well yes“, Astarion replied. „I suppose it’s all about feeling a bit less dead. And I had to keep up the act.“

„So what does it taste like to ya?“

„Ugh, mostly vinegar. It’s all sour.“

„Damn. I‘m sorry.“

„Appreciated, darling.“

„How long has it been? Since… you know…“

„Since I met my grisly end, you mean?

„Yeah, that.“

„Oh, it’s been over 200 years. Honestly I stopped counting.“

„Damn, I‘m…“

„Darling, if you say you’re sorry one more time, I will bite your finger off“, Astarion growled.

The dwarf blew a raspberry. „You can’t even get through my glove, you pipsqueak. But for real, I… gods I do feel sorry for you. I nicked your file the other day, had a tiny peek. It said you were just…“

„I don’t need your pity!“, Astarion snapped, bristling. „Let’s just talk about something else. Or better yet: Leave me alone.“

„Want me to put you down?“

Astarion considered the warmth of her shoulder, and shook his head. „Hm, no.“

„Fine. Okay, what about your favourite book?“, she asked, changing the subject.

Astarion perked up. „Oh, well there’s just so many. „But it’s got to be the Legends of Drizzt Do'Urden. In my first few decades, I dreamed a hero like him would maybe save me. Instead, Raphael came.“ He shrugged. „At least someone did, eventually.“

Korilla nodded. „I read those too. I thought he‘d be too… I dunno… nice for you?“

„It’s a nice little escape from reality“, Astarion insisted. „And much better than those love stories that came into fashion when I last got to enter a library. About… ugh mermaids in love with… ogres or something.“

„I always liked those hot romance novels with fiends emerging from the hells to sweep pretty virgins off their feet“, Korilla giggled.

„You did not!“

„Still do, actually.“

„Doesn’t it feel like your life is just a bit too close to that fantasy, darling?“

„Hah, yours maybe. I heard what happened the other day.“ She winked at him. „I‘m surprised you left each other in one piece.“

Astarion wasn’t sure if his bat self could blush, but his ears did turn almost unbearably hot. „We are not discussing this!“

„Fine!“, she giggled. „Good thing you weren’t hurt too badly, anyway. You should see Haarlep sometimes.“

„What a lovely way to change the subject!“ Astarion exclaimed. „What about Haarlep? Are they… really just here for Raphael’s pleasure?“

„Yeah, what else do you think they should do?“

„I‘m not sure. I just think they’re… probably smarter than they let on.“

„Maybe. I don’t know. We don’t talk much. Just watch yourself. All Haarlep wants is to get in your pants.“

Astarion squirmed. „Well, they’ve been rather upfront about that.“

„Say, have they been bothering you? To let them… you know?“

„Obviously.“ Astarion sighed. „But I think they mean well, at least.“

„Oh, you don’t know Haarlep“, Korilla sighed. „They only ever want to feed, and gods know they go on and on about how they go hungry with Raphael.“

Astarion opened his tiny mouth to ask what the dwarf meant exactly, but she very suddenly perked up.

„Ah, that’s us, now.“ She snapped her fingers and the peaceful creek, now in twilight, disappeared in a flurry of sparks.

They reappeared in Raphael’s office, and the devil was brooding over the desk.

„Korilla, leave Astarion with me, if you please.“

Astarion exchanged a look with her. The fiend didn‘t sound happy. Holding up a hand for him to climb on, she gave him a sympathetic look. Astarion retreated into her hair behind her neck, ducking away from her hand.

She squirmed a bit, trying to grab him. „Ah, yes. You see, we have a tiny problem, master.“

„Speak plainly.“ He turned around and froze, frowning. „Where’s Astarion?“

„Oh, he’s fine, I have him right here!“, she quickly raised her free hand in a conciliatory gesture, then turned her head. „Stop this, and come, please.“ Whispering, she added: „You’re just makin it worse. Come here!“

Astarion looked at her open hand and readied himself for the worst. Slowly he climbed into her palm, head lowered and fighting the urge to crawl back to his perch on Korilla’s shoulder, where he could more easily hide.

As the dwarf presented him to the devil, Astarion began to shake, terrified of his judgement.

Raphael stared at him, first in confusion, then bafflement.

Korilla cleared her throat. „Yeah… He says it just happened. We haven’t been able to figure out why, but…“

„You have the dagger? Yes, good. Put it on the workbench. Get everything ready.“ Raphael reached for Astarion. „Hand him to me“, he said sternly.

Korilla did so, without hesitation. It stung a bit, as if she had betrayed Astarion by obeying their mutual master. Astarion couldn’t do anything as he was put into the devil’s warm red hand, much bigger than Korilla‘s.

„Of course. I‘ll prepare everything.“ Korilla said with a slight bow. She gave Astarion a sad smile, then left for the door.

Raphael lifted him towards his face, examining him with his dark black and yellow eyes and gave him a scrutinising look.

As soon as the door closed behind Korilla, he chuckled. „Don’t look so glum“, he said. „You did as I told you, although I wouldn’t quite call the mission a success…“

Astarion swallowed, inching away from his face.

Raphael closed his fist around him without squeezing, simply constraining his movements.

Squeaking, Astarion made himself as small as possible. „No, no, no, please…!“

The devil chuckled again, this time in amusement. His thumb gently brushed Astarion‘s head. „Very cute, I must admit. But I don’t speak bat. So, I‘m going to turn you back in a second.“

Astarion perked up. Raphael could do that?
He nodded eagerly, squeezing his head through the devil’s fingers and pushing with his feeble arm.

With an eyebrow raised, Raphael turned and brought him over to the desk, setting him down gently on a tome that lay there closed.

„I assume you haven’t changed into anything else? No? Hm. Very… vampire. I haven’t expected anything quite like this. Though I suppose it makes sense. I‘ve never bestowed a boon on a vampire before. It seems my power enhanced yours.“

The boon, of course. Astarion had nearly forgotten about this, between the constant fear he was living in since he came to the House of Hope. So it really had been Astarion’s own newly aquired magic that had transformed him. Still, how to change back?

„How do I turn back?“, he asked, but it came out as another high-pitched squeak.

„Do try to be quiet“, Raphael said. „This form admittedly suits you. Still, I imagine it’s rather limiting. You should be able to turn back by yourself.“

Astarion shook his head.

„No? And you‘re sure you’ve tried?“

Astarion had extremely little experience in transforming himself into any animal, nor to mention back. So, he just blinked up at the devil.

Again, Raphael chuckled. „Look at you. Under other circumstances, I might keep you like this for a while. But alas, we have work to do, vampling.“

Astarion drew himself up on his weak arms and gave a squeal of protest. He didn‘t want to remain a bat for any longer, and he also didn‘t want to „work“, whatever Raphael meant by this. What he wanted was some rest, preferably alone in his own room, in his own body.

Raphael considered him for a moment. „You’re injured in your elven form, aren’t you? I can smell there’s… silver in your blood. This complicates things. To the boudoir, then, little mouse. Let’s get you healed up.“ He held out his hand again, and Astarion had no choice but to crawl onto it.

At least it was nice and warm.

Raphael lifted him up to examine him, then began to pet him with a large red finger. An indignant noise of protest broke from Astarion‘s chest, but it came out muffled as the finger wandered beneath his chin to gently scritch him there.

While Astarion didn’t want to be pet, he had to admit that it didn’t hurt, and maybe he shouldn’t fight this. Actually it felt… surprisingly nice.

Astarion felt the huge sharp claw gently scratching his chest, then his chin and cheek, and he just let it happen, closing his eyes for a moment.

„You’re purring“, Raphael softly informed him, then gave him one last stroke over the head with his thumb, and finally put Astarion on his shoulder.

Set snugly on Raphael’s fine silken shirt, Astarion looked at his master in bafflement.

He wasn’t happy, but Astarion’s adorable state seemed to have calmed him somewhat.
Either way, Astarion hadn’t expected such tenderness from the devil.

As Raphael went for the door, he suddenly faltered, wincing. He spread his wings to catch himself, stopped for a moment.

Astarion stared at the devil. Was Raphael hurt? What in the hells had happened?

As this face was scrunching up with pain, Astarion inched closer to Raphael’s neck and nuzzled against it, trying to show his concern.

And it was that: Concern.
It was preposterous. Astarion should be angry after what Raphael had put him through, gleeful even! Hells knew the bastard deserved it.

But really all there was, weirdly, was concern. What could have the devil rattled and hurt?

Raphael froze when he noticed Astarion‘s gesture, then slightly turned his face towards him.

„It’s nothing, pet“, he muttered softly. „Now stop that. Hells know who might see.“

Astarion wondered why he didn‘t teleport, but the devil had already walked out of the office and strode down the hallway.

From his perch on his shoulder, Astarion saw a few debtors hurry out of his way, then peeked down.

Hells, Raphael was tall. It was a nice change looking down from this high. Astarion should scale his head, and this way he could look down on everyone.

But clambering around on an angry and potentially injured devil didn‘t seem like the best idea, so Astarion sat tight and waited for whatever was about to happen next. It wasn’t like he had the power to change anything about it.

Raphael went over to the library and called the tiefling over.

„Yes, Master?“

„Did you find the scroll I requested?“

„It… they wanted 1000 more gold than I had with me.“

Raphael‘s tail began lashing from side to side. „So, you don’t have it.“

„I… I‘m sorry. I should have…“

„Quiet“, Raphael snarled. „What about the tome on the other topic? Did you get that, at least?“

„Yes!“, the librarian squealed, his pitch almost as high as Astarion‘s bat noises. „Yes, it’s here!“

„I‘ll have Korilla bring me the scroll, since you seem incapable“, Raphael snarled. „Be thankful I have more important business than your punishment.“

Astarion noted his perch on the devil’s shoulder got notably hotter. He began to fidget as the heat got decidedly uncomfortable against his belly.

„Raphael…“, he cheeped softly.

The devil pretended not to hear the bat noises, but he did calm himself with a deep breath, and the heat died back.

Astarion relaxed and gave a tiny sigh.

The devil grabbed the book the tiefling held up for him, then rushed down the hallway for his boudoir.

Astarion had to dig in his little claws to not be shaken off with how briskly he walked.

Once in the boudoir, Raphael set down the tome on the desk, then snapped his clothing away and headed for the healing pool, Astarion still on his shoulder.

He sat down in the water and leaned against the pool‘s edge, groaning as he rolled his shoulders.

Astarion, unsure of what to do, waited for Raphael to go ahead and turn him back.

After relaxing for a bit, the devil gently plucked him from his shoulder, caging him in his large hand.

Nervously, Astarion eyed the steaming water.

„I‘m going to turn you back, now. You‘ve been wounded, so it’s going to hurt.“

Astarion bristled and tensed up.

„But the water will heal you. Do try to relax.“

Raphael snapped his fingers, and Astarion was engulfed in hot smoke and sparks, then splashed into the water, back as his lovely elven self, but in incredible pain, as the devil had warned him.

He groaned as he toppled into Raphael, squirming with the pain of a few dozen bruises and cuts. Worse were the deep gashes in his thigh and upper arm, and the poison greying his skin.

Distantly he noticed he was still wearing his armour and equipment, but that didn‘t matter. The pain blotted out nearly everything else.

The devil held him as he thrashed around, the silver making him twitch involuntarily. Then he pushed Astarion under water, and held him there.

Astarion panicked almost immediately, even as the healing water soothed the pain his wounds caused him. He grabbed Raphael’s wrists and tried prying his hands off, but the devil‘s grip was like a vice.

„Get off!“, Astarion yelled, but a burst of bubbles was all that came of his mouth, along with a garbled noise.

Raphael kept him below the water, the red of his skin all Astarion could see. While he didn‘t technically need to breathe, Astarion had never been able to shake the habit, and his lungs began to rebel. He kicked out for the devil, but only ended up pushing himself deeper.

With one shaking hand, he grasped for a dagger still safely tucked away against his side. A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to stop, to not make it worse, to drop the weapon, but it was drowned out by the searing panic.

Raphael simply snapped his weapons away, barely even relinquishing his grip.

Fighting hard not to breathe in the water, Astarion shook his head, hoping Raphael would see and relent.

The devil closed one hand around his face, the flat of his other hand pinning Astarion down by the chest, and pushed, forcing him to expel what little air he had left.
Then, a claw entered Astarion’s mouth, and he spluttered, trying to writhe free. Raphael only held him tighter, forcing his jaws apart, even as Astarion bit him.

Raphael took a few more seconds to wrestle him into submission, waiting for Astarion to stop thrashing. Still, he kept him underwater, one thumb hooked inside his mouth.
Astarion had frozen in absolute terrified stillness, his lungs empty of air, his strength all but spent, pinned beneath the devil who was casually drowning him.

In this forced state of calm he felt his wounds mending, the cold seeping from his skin. A clot of black blood swam past him, and he grew sick.
With both hands, he grasped for the hand on his chest, desperate to get the weight off, but the devil didn‘t relent.
He lifted the hand from his chest and closed it around his throat instead, throttling him.
In utter shock and surprise, Astarion clawed at the devil’s hand.

Involuntarily, he gasped for air and swallowed a good mouthful the water, the agonizing sensation of drowning making making him thrash in panic again. He kicked and lashed out, biting and scratching at anything he could get at.

His vision turned red, then an unbearable heat joined the burning pain his lungs caused him trying to expel the water. Raphael’s scorching blood mingling with the water as Astarion tore into his hand with his teeth.

In the devil’s unrelenting grip he quickly tired out, even the panic dulled down into a blunt terror as he was pinned here at the bottom of the pool, lungs filled with water and hurting, urging him to expel it.

But he didn’t die. Didn‘t lose consciousness.
Naturally, drowning in healing water wasn’t on the extremely short list of things that could kill him.

Astarion stared up at the red smudge that was Raphael’s form, distorted and made to dance by the waters movement, silently begging to finally be let go.

At last, the claws retreated from his mouth, and the hand on his neck relinquished its grip. Astarion was lifted from the water.

As soon as he was free, Astarion made a hectic break for the surface, trying to get the hells away from Raphael while he was at it.

The devil quickly caught him and held him close as he heaved and retched to expel the water from his lungs, refilling them with air.
It took him a few good minutes, during wich he spluttered and coughed, taking deep gulps of air whenever he could.

Raphael cradled him against his chest, his grip strong but not painful or punishing.

Once Astarion had calmed somewhat, exhaustion set in. He coughed, then wiped the water from his eyes.
„You…“ His voice was hoarse, and he had to pause to expel more of the water. „You damn… bastard…!“

„Now, now“, Raphael said, petting his side soothingly. „I doubt you would have taken the water into your lungs on your own. And you had to, because of the silver. I do believe we‘ve washed it all out now, haven’t we?“

„F…fuck…!“ Astarion was shaken by another heaving fit.

„You really don’t want to finish that insult“, Raphael threatened. „Out with it now, that’s it.“ He patted his back.

Astarion tried baring his fangs at the devil, turned his head. „Did you know? About the dagger?“, he growled. „About Ravengard?“

The devil paused. „And if I had?“

„You could have…“ Astarion gagged. „You could have just…“

„But I didn‘t. You’d do well not to question me, vampling.“

„I almost got k… killed, you f-!“

Like a snake, Raphael struck, closing one hand around his throat, and squeezing. „But you weren’t. Now I suggest you stop your whining. Your performance was less than ideal, but you’ve managed. And did I save you? Yes. Yes, I did.“

Astarion was still being choked, so he couldn’t reply, but he was seething with indignant anger.
Yes, he got the dagger. Yes, he was alive, but he also sustained multiple wounds and silver poisoning, not to mention the scuffle with the guards and his frankly terrifying first time as a bat.

He struggled against Raphael’s grip, but gave up after a few seconds. As he relaxed, he found that he could speak again.
The devil allowed it.

„Why this dagger? Why…?“

„You‘ll see soon enough“, Raphael said. „But you won’t like it.“

Astarion tensed up. „What do you…“ Raphael squeezed again, cutting off his air.

„In due time, little mouse“, he purred in his ear, then lingered with his face at the back of Astarion’s neck, doubtlessly scenting his fear.

„Stop…“, Astarion groaned. „P…please…“

Raphael nosed at his hair, his hot breath drying the curls. „Just a minute, pet.“

Frozen in his precarious position, Astarion was forced to endure the devil’s strange affections for what felt like hours. Then, the devil shifted his grip and manipulated his position to lift him from the water, bridal style.

Raphael‘s skin and hair dried in a matter of seconds, then he gently put Astarion down on a stone bench. He sat there, stiff, shaky, and dripping in his wet armour.

„Rest up, now“, said the devil. „I‘ll get you in an hour or so.“

When Astarion began to shiver, Raphael snapped his fingers, dressing both Astarion and himself in dry fresh clothing.

He jumped when the fine fabric wrapped snugly around his skin, then frowned up at his master in unease. „… get me for what?“

„There’s fresh blood for you“, said Raphael. „A reward for a job well done. Or, well enough at least.“ He gestured towards the table. „Drink your fill, then rest. I‘ve instructed Haarlep to join you.“

„What…? Why?“ Astarion clutched the edge of the stone bench. „What are you doing?“

Raphael didn‘t answer, but gave him a pat on the cheek, smiling at him.

Then the devil was gone, disappearing in a flurry of smoke and sparks.

What in the hells was going on? Feeling more than uneasy with the devil’s ambiguous behavior, Astarion looked around.

Luxury. A soft bed with fresh silken sheets, a selection of fresh blood spreading a tantalising scent that made Astarion dizzy with hunger. The healing pool.

Everything was… frankly too nice to be true. Raphael was up to something, and trying to coax him into luxuriating and staying here, calm and full, without making a fuss.

Well, first of all: Absolutely not.

Astarion got up and hurried over to the exit, but wasn’t surprised to find it blocked. A magical golden barrier barred his path.

He was locked inside the boudoir.
Fuck.

The panic Astarion felt surge up inside him was akin to what he remembered about dying. It was cold as ice, sharp, pointed enough to hurt, and at the same time he felt like he was burning up.

He could just stand there, frozen in mortal fear, and uselessly hyperventilate. He felt sick, only he was too far gone to even think about throwing up.

Astarion ran to the balcony, hoping the path would be open to him. If it came to it, he’d climb out. There was no magical barrier, so Astarion broke into a sprint. Just get the hells out, he didn‘t know or care where, he just had to get away. Avoid whatever the devil had planned.

He was absolutely certain his pathetic un-life depended on it.

But as he ran for the exit, he was yanked back by the neck with enough force to send him sprawling to the floor.
He’d only been able to get out a choked yell, now he scrambled on the marble tiles, trying to get up, but he was dragged backwards by an invisible rope around his neck.

Finally, Haarlep came into view. They were wearing Raphael’s guise, but Astarion recognized them by their trademark smirk.

„Stay“, they lilted, crouching over him. „Raphael gave me your leash for the time being. You are not to leave this room. Otherwise, I‘m at your disposal.“

Astarion was rubbing his neck. „Get me the hells out of here!“, he gasped, hating how whiny he sounded.

„That I can’t do, sweet thing“, they replied. „Anything else, and I‘m at your disposal.“ They sat Astarion up and brushed an errand curl from his face. „What is your wish?“

„Leave me alone“, Astarion snapped, shoving Haarlep off and getting to his feet.

„Ah, that I can’t do, either“, they sighed. „I‘m supposed to watch you, and make you comfortable.“

Astarion snarled. „I‘m not some lamb you can just lead to the slaughter! Don’t fucking touch me!“

„Who’s slaughtering anyone?“ Haarlep waved a hand. „You don’t really think Raphael would just kill you? No, he needs you, right? You’re his thief and assassin! And he likes you as his pet, as well. You’re perfectly safe.“

Astarion marched off towards the table, but he didn‘t want to feed. He marched towards the bed, but he knew to steer clear of that as long as Haarlep was in the room.

The incubus grinned at him. „We have… a few hours at least. And Raphael permitted me to… use all my charms on you.“ They prowled closer, eyes wandering over his body hungrily.

„No…!“ Astarion shrank back. „No, get away from me!“

„Oh, fine!“, Haarlep said, giggling. „I‘ll just be over here“, they flopped onto the bed and seductively sprawled themselves out on the silken sheets. „Waiting for you!“, they added dramatically. „Bored out of my poor little mind!“

Astarion calmed somewhat when they gave him some space. „Hells…“ He looked around for another avenue of escape. He checked the walls and ceiling too, after all, he could easily climb vertical surfaces, but found nothing of note. No openings, not even tiny ones he might exploit as a bat (if he could figure out how to transform into one).

„Aren’t you hungry?“, Haarlep lilted from where they lay on the bed.

„Do shut up.“

„Aw, don’t be like that. Do you WANT to be miserable? It won’t change whatever you think is coming.“

Astarion threw them a pained look.

„I‘m just saying! Enjoy yourself! Have some
blood, have some me! Let me help you relax, vampling.“

The blood did smell delectable enough to make Astarion‘s mouth water. He was hungry after all he’d been through today.
But it was a trap, he knew it was.

Astarion continued to pace around, desperate for a solution to come to him.

But no. Planning had never been his strongest suit. He couldn’t think of a way out. Haarlep literally had him on a leash, and the exit was blocked.
There was no escape.

Unless Astarion took the leash from Haarlep, and got out through the balcony.
Could he do it? Could he brave Avernus?

Well, the question was irrelevant, as long as the contract stood. So, could Astarion get the contract? Destroy it, and render it void? Then he could escape without Raphael just… summoning him back. Hopefully. And then he‘d have to survive in Avernus, on his own, with no real way out.

Fuck!

This was beyond foolish.
Astarion knew he stood no chance even getting past Haarlep.

„What’s going through that pretty little head of yours, hm?“, the incubus sing-songed when his gaze found them.

Astarion crossed his arms, doing his best to smile dangerously at them. „Thinking about my chances if I fight you.“

„Fight me?“ Haarlep laughed. „Oh, that would be fun! Yes, please, by all means!“ Their tail began wagging in genuine excitement.

„What do I have to lose?“, Astarion growled. „Best to try and at least have a shot.“

„Ah, alright!“ Haarlep sat up, tail still twitching. „I see now. Then, let’s say you do fight me. You do beat me. Then what?“

„Then I‘d be free to leave this room. And to find the contract and destroy it.“

„And then you’d be free for about 12 seconds, until Raphael rips you into pretty little snack-sized chunks.“ Astarion glared at them, so Haarlep continued. „Or! Or you can kill him too. Or escape him somehow, perhaps magically? And then you’d climb from the very depths of Avernus itself, back to the mortal realm, where your old master would find you and immediately regain control over his runaway spawn, dooming you to an eternity of degrading servitude.“ They prettily blinked up at him. „Did I get that about right, little dove?“

Astarion just opened and closed his mouth, dumbfounded by Haarlep‘s thorough analysis.

They were right.

There was no way out for Astarion. No escape, no hope, no help. He wasn’t even sure he could take his own life in this room, even if he really wanted to.

He nodded in concession, then made his way over to the table and downed the first goblet of blood he could grab.
If there really was no escape, might as well play along. Might as well quench his thirst and hope the blood would calm his mind and sate him.

Despite the delay, the blood was still warm. It was delicious, much better than the elf Astarion was used to, much better. He paused, registerd the taste for a moment, then enthusiastically gulped down mouthful after mouthful, groaning when he felt his entire body pleasantly tingle.

„Good, eh?“, Haarlep asked, smiling.

„What is that?“, Astarion asked, utterly blissed out. His panic died down to some sense of almost comfortable anticipation. He wasn’t scared shitless any longer.

Haarlep rose from the bed, prowling towards him. Astarion didn’t feel as averse to them coming closer and touching him as he should. „The best blood any vampire could ask for, of course.“

Astarion took another goblet, which had a different scent, but no less tantalising.

Haarlep hugged him from behind, tucking their chin over his shoulder. „Mine.“

Astarion swallowed heavily, dropping the cup he had just picked up.

He had just been drinking incubus blood.

That couldn’t be good.

„That’s right“, Haarlep cooed into his ear.
Astarion wasn’t sure what they meant, until he noticed they were walking him towards the bed. „Let’s lay you down.“

Astarion was falling before he knew it, confused and dazed, but unable to well and truly panic. He landed on the soft cool silk, sighing with how comfortable it was.

Haarlep climbed on top of him, putting both hands on his chest and making themselves comfortable by using him as a pillow, laying over Astarion’s entire body.
This way they pinned him down, and provided delicious friction absolutely everywhere.

Astarion was hyper-aware of every touch, every physical contact, every scent.

He knew he should be frightened, should be fighting this, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to feel assaulted enough protest.

Wasn’t Haarlep nice and warm and beautiful? Didn‘t their touch make him see stars?

Astarion met their gaze with some difficulty. „You… you drugged me…!“

„Who, me? Dove, it’s hardly my fault.“ They smiled down at him. „I can’t help the effect my blood has. You could have asked what it was before you drank.“ They scooted up a little and cradled his head, petting his hair and stroking along his ears.

Astarion felt himself stir in his trousers. He bit back a moan and tried pushing Haarlep off, but they didn‘t budge.

„But my blood has a rather diminished effect“, they continued. „I’ve got venom, now that’s gonna absolutely make you lose your mind. How about it? You want the real deal?“ Their lips brushed his, their mouth slightly open, ready to strike. A true predator on the hunt.

Astarion shook his head. „Please… don’t…“

„Oh, and why the hells not? I can make you feel so good. You‘ve earned it! Come on!“ Haarlep shook him a little, whining in their frustration.

Distantly Astarion was aware that they probably didn‘t need his consent. Or, maybe they did?
No, if Raphael had condoned drugging him with incubus blood, he wouldn’t object to Haarlep having their way with him.

And bedazzled as he was, Astarion hadn’t the strength to fight them off.

„Don’t…“, Astarion sighed.

Haarlep groaned in annoyance. „Fine! I suppose you’re not in danger of doing anything stupid. You feel calmer now, yes? Good, good. I won’t HAVE to sleep with you, then. Do consider it, though. One kiss, and you’ll remember this night for the rest of your existence.“

Astarion gasped when Haarlep began peeling the shirt from his chest, nuzzling against his bare skin, peppering him with kisses, mouthing at his nipples. Gods, it felt divine.

„Let me be good to you?“ Haarlep kissed the hollow of his throat. „Please. I won’t even go below the waist, if you really don’t want me to.“

This surprised Astarion, who thought Haarlep would just have their way with him, and who wasn’t sure he really wanted to stop them at this point. Everything they did felt too good to deny.

„Don’t give me that look“, Haarlep chided him. „I‘m not some monster.“ They unbuttoned his shirt, leaving sparks of intense pleasure lingering on Astarion’s skin. One could become addicted to the very touch of a creature such as Haarlep. „Master told me to make you comfortable, but he never said I‘d have to force you into anything. I could, of course. But that’s no fun.“

Astarion squirmed at the prospect of being forced into sex, again. It wouldn’t even have been the first time he’d been drugged. In this state, he wouldn’t be able to stop Haarlep, nor could he bring himself to hate this non-consensual intimacy.

But the incubus simply remained perched on top of him, running their hands over his bare chest and kissing his hard nipples, neck and ears.

Astarion shuddered with pleasure, making Haarlep giggle.

They kept their hands on his ears, rubbing them between their skilled fingers just right.
„Raphael says you‘re beautiful in your pain“, they whispered. „But in your pleasure? You’re radiant, sweetling. It’s delectable.“

Astarion moaned as his body began to hum with pleasure.

„You’re so very fun to play with“, said Haarlep, nibbling at his ear lobe. „I could do this forever, and ever, and ever.“

Shaking with the effort to keep his thoughts together, Astarion turned his head away.

„Aw!“, exclaimed the incubus. „You don’t like it?“ With their fingers, they traced playful circles on his skin. „What do you like, hm? Anything you want, sweetling.“

Astarion struggled to form words. Surely he was in elsysium, bliss seeping into his very soul, whatever was left of it. Part of him was aware he was supposed to be afraid, but he couldn’t even remember why. He just… he had to get away, didn‘t he? He didn‘t want this… did he?

„I want… out…“, he sighed. It was the opposite of what his body was screaming for.

„You can’t go out“, Haarlep replied, running their fingers through his hair soothingly. „You‘ll stay with me, for now. Safe and sound.“

„Let me…“ Astarion squeezed his eyes shut, hanging on to that thought that threatened to flee from him, to gently slip from his mind and sink into the surging sea of lust, disappearing out of reach. „Out…“

„Oh, sweet thing.“ Haarlep sat up straighter, hands on his chest, cocking their head. „You really shouldn’t be fighting this hard. It’s no use.“ Their voice was stern but gentle, like a parent with a child. „I‘m going to release you from this foolish stubbornness. Alright?“

Astarion tensed up, weakly shaking his head.

With a pained look on their face, Haarlep, shushed him. „It’s okay. It won’t hurt.“ They smiled reassuringly as they lowered their face down towards his. „Just relax for me.“

They kissed him gently, playfully, and only increased their pace when Astarion gave in, Haarlep‘s scent and touch finally breaking the last of his resolve.

Their tongue slipped past his lips. Astarion tasted something like the sweetest blood, heady and tempting, but with a slight bitter aftertaste.

He couldn’t help but return their kiss. His body was craving Haarlep, screaming for them, and the sheer noise drowned out every other thought he might have had.

Before he knew it, he was holding them, embracing them, his tongue dancing with theirs.

Haarlep made a noise of pleasant surprise, but quickly broke the kiss.
„There we go“, they sighed. „Can’t let you have too much.“

Astarion reached for them, desperate to have more of them. There was nothing but desire now, nothing but pure unfiltered lust. Everything else was muted and rapidly draining in a whirlwind of want.

Haarlep easily wrestled him off and flipped him over onto his stomach.

Astarion, while wishing to touch them and hold them close, to kiss and bite them, to drink their blood and sweat, let the incubus manhandle him as they pleased.

Anything they’d give him, he’d happily accept.

„Let’s not do anything you’ll hate me
for come morning“, Haarlep said.
They made themselves comfortable on his ass, straddling him and pinning him down by the shoulders.
Then they finally took his shirt off and put their hands on his back.

Astarion, while adoring their touch, froze, something inside him rebelling, some old pain flaring to life.

The scars on his back.

Haarlep couldn’t touch him there. They… they just couldn’t.

The sudden aversion made no sense to him. He had never wanted anything more than for the incubus to touch him.

Haarlep withdrew, noticing his sudden tension. „Now now. It‘s alright“, they whispered. „Is here better?“ They began massaging his shoulders, steering clear of his scars.

Astarion melted into the bedding and moaned his approval.

Haarlep was uncharacteristically quiet as they worked his sore muscles with their very capable and strong hands. Throughout the ordeal, they tended to his sides as well, and his arms and thighs, taking extra care of where he’d been wounded by Wyll.

Astarion moaned, grinding into the blanket, drooling in his contentment.
But he didn‘t care.
He couldn’t care.

Haarlep worked his body like a musician played an instrument, and all without even taking his pants off.

And oh, did Astarion ever make sweet music for them. He moaned and sighed into the pillows, writhing in absolute dumb bliss beneath them.

As Haarlep played, time turned into what seemed like a thick delicious pudding Astarion sank into, losing any prospect of when and where he was.
He was distantly aware of the wetness in his underwear, but what did that matter, when he felt this good?

Astarion slowly came to his senses surrounded by warm water, gentle hands caressing his arms and shoulders.

He blinked, sitting up straighter and looking around, but he was exhausted and sluggish.

„Ah, ah.“ The warm hands wrapped around his chest, cradling him close to an equally warm body. „Are you back with me?“

Astarion groaned when the memories came back to him. „Haarlep.“

„There you are.“ The hands relaxed their grip a bit. „How are we feeling?“

„You…“ Astarion weakly swatted their hands away. „You drugged me.“

„Now, that’s a bit of an exaggeration...“

No. No, it absolutely was not.
Astarion growled. „Let go of me.“

„Ah, but I‘m not done washing you yet.“

„I don’t want you fucking washing me!“

„Raphael’s orders“, they said curtly. „Now hold still.“

Astarion begrudgingly did. He still felt woozy, fuzzy. He knew he should be more upset about what the incubus had done to him, but he couldn’t quite muster the strength.

„Before you ask, your dignity is intact. I told you I‘m not some monster.“ The incubus gently tugged at a curl behind his ear. „And, don’t you feel better now? I played VERY nice.“

Astarion had to admit their massage had relieved him of some deep seated aches, and the venom had taken his fear away, at least temporarily. He couldn’t yet find it in him to be angry about this.
Clearly the venom was still affecting him.

„I suppose it was fine“, Astarion conceded begrudgingly. „But don’t do it again.“

„You‘re such a bore“, Haarlep sighed as they rubbed fragrant rose-scented soap onto his skin. „But fine. Unless I‘m directly ordered, of course. Lift your arm for me?“

Astarion did. „I‘ll pay you back for this“, he threatened half-heartedly. „You’ll… you’ll regret this…“

„You’re so cute when you’re like this“, Haarlep chuckled. „Less… pointy.“

„Fuck you!“

„Yes, yes, you‘re very upset, I get it“, Haarlep went on with their task. „We’re almost done.“ They grabbed his chin and turned his head around to look them in the eye.

Raphael’s face suddenly this close to his made Astarion shudder.

„Can you blink for me? Good.“

„I feel funny“, Astarion admitted.

„You had a good dose of incubus blood and a bit of venom, too. It’s a miracle you are coherent already.“

Astarion didn‘t feel coherent. „Can’t I just… sleep it off?“

„Oh, you did sleep for a bit“, said Haarlep. „Or at least something close to it.“

„And you couldn’t just let me sleep?“, Astarion groaned. „You’re a bastard, you know that?“

„I‘ve been called worse“, they replied easily. „Now be quiet, vampling. All I did was make you feel good for a short while. You can feel violated all you want.“ They kissed him on the cheek. „It’s all the same to me.“

Astarion wiped his cheek, feeling more petulant than ever. It hadn’t been more than a playful peck, but he didn‘t want any kisses from Haarlep.

„Can you stand for me?“

„I‘d rather not.“

„Stand, Astarion.“ Haarlep’s voice was stern now.

Astarion felt the venom‘s effect weaken. He felt less and less like he wanted to comply. And more like his usual self making more trouble from himself and everyone around him. One might call it foolish, but Astarion preferred to think of himself as resistant. That sounded better.

What power did he really have, but the power to at least dig his heels in and annoy his tormentors. „And if I don’t?“

„Then I‘ll just make you“, Haarlep shrugged.

„Go ahead, then.“

„Astarion“, the incubus stood up, tail lashing from side to side in agitation. „I don’t want to hurt you. I like you! So, please, don’t make me haul you out of there by your pretty pretty hair. Because I will.“

Astarion blearily blinked up at them, thoroughly intimidated (their form was still Raphael‘s, and they were naked), and surprised.

Surely Haarlep didn‘t actually like him. They only told him what they thought he wanted to hear.

Even so, Astarion didn‘t think he could put up much of a fight, and he didn‘t want to be yanked around by the hair.

So, he sighed, then stood, swaying a little.

At some point, Haarlep had undressed him for the bath. He hadn’t even realized until now.

Disgruntled, he stood still as Haarlep rinsed him, then let them wrap him into a large towel and sit him down on the bench.

„I can pick out my own clothes!“, he called after the incubus as they turned for the closet.

„Oh, I don’t doubt that you could“, replied Haarlep. „But you won’t be wearing clothes just yet.“

Astarion drew the towel tighter around himself. „… what?“

„I‘m picking out something for afterwards. I think we should choose something red. Do you have a preference?“

„After what?“ Astarion stammered, tensing up again. The panic flared up again, but still somewhat dulled.

„Oh, nothing. Everything is going to be okay.“ Haarlep disappeared halfway into the closet. „How do you feel about pink?“

„Can you shut the hells up about clothes?“, Astarion groaned. „Just tell me what…“ With that, Astarion felt himself engulfed by a whirlwind of sparks. Raphael was summoning him now. Astarion stood, the towel sliding off him to the floor. „Haarlep, please…!“

Then everything went dark as he was displaced by the devil’s magic.

Before his vision had even cleared of hellfire and smoke, Astarion knew he was in the dungeons.

The air was heavy and oppressive, the scent of foul blood, sweat, tears and everything unpleasant hung in the air.

Astarion stumbled backwards and into a stone wall, his knees shaking.

As he blinked and tried getting his eyes used to the sudden dim light, he caught sight of the large table in the middle of the room. It looked exactly like the racks he’d been strapped to more times than he could count throughout his long un-life. At least the straps seemed new.

There was a circle of candles flickering on the grimy floor, and the walls were plastered with papers showing strange symbols.

And behind the table, Raphael stood,
calmly eyeing Astarion as he began to well and truly panic.

„Welcome, little mouse, to your ultimate fate.“

Chapter Text

Astarion wildly looked around for the exit, but found there was no door, no window.

He was trapped in some dungeon cell with a devil who could do whatever he wanted to him.
A devil he knew enjoyed seeing him in pain and despair. And who had evidently prepared to make him the centerpiece of what looked like an infernal ritual.

Astarion felt a lot like crying. „What is… what did I do… what did I do wrong?“ He edged sway and into a corner, as far away from Raphael and the table as he could. „No, no, no…“

Raphael remained calm and pulled a small cart over. There were various instruments on it, most of them decidedly sharp or pointy. Worst of all: The Needle was among the tools the devil had deemed necessary for whatever was in store for Astarion.

„Calm yourself, pet. This isn’t a punishment.“

Astarion snarled, unable to do anything with his mortal fear but lash out. „Oh, and then what in the hells are you going to do with that damn knife?!“

„If all goes well, save you“, Raphael replied solemnly.

Astarion gaped up at him. „Excuse me?“ his voice sounded shrill, Astarion felt proud it was just bordering on hysterical.

„Lie down.“

„Absolutely not!“

„Mouse“, Raphael growled. „I‘m being very lenient with you. Believe me when I say I could put you on here and grind you into the wood by numerous means, but:“ He held up one clawed finger. „I do believe you‘ll see reason. And obey your master.“

Staring at the table, Astarion shook his head, although he wasn’t sure what he was even trying to deny.
But if he was about to get on that table by his own free will, he needed to know why.

Why did he need to know? He just did. If all Raphael wanted was to cut more poetry into him, Astarion would fight him every step of the way, consequences be damned.
„What are you going to do?“

„The scars on your back. I will alter them, to our mutual benefit.“

Astarion scoffed, feeling tears burn in the back of his throat. „Mutual benefit?! So, you get to enjoy my screams, and I get mutilated, again? Why not just d… drown me in your pool and be done with it?!“

Astarion‘s knees almost gave in, and he was reeling. He couldn’t get enough air.
None of this made sense to him. What business did the devil have with his scars, and how could altering them benefit anyone? All Astarion was likely to get out of it was pain.

„Pet, my patience is running increasingly thin. Now lie down. The sooner you comply, the faster it’ll be over.“

Stiff as a board, Astarion stood there, and shook his head. How he hated being called a pet. But here and now, it was worse than ever. „I‘m sick of being someone else’s plaything!“

„I am not playing“, Raphael growled. „I won’t repeat myself. Lie down, now!“

As Astarion stared at the rack, frozen in absolute terror, he felt the invisible leash tighten around his neck. A threat.

Raphael‘s gaze was iron hard, his fist clenched. It was a miracle he hadn’t yet yanked Astarion over, and tied him down using force.

„At least… t… tell me why!“, Astarion screamed, sobbing. „Didn‘t I do as you asked? Didn‘t I… prove myself to you?“

The devil had initially seemed annoyed at being disobeyed again, but something about that last sentence made him pause.

„I suppose you did.“ He twirled the dagger, the Needle. „There’s no harm in telling you, I think. Fine, then“, he decided, waving Astarion over to the table. „Come here.“ He selected a parchment off the wall and put it on the table for Astarion to see.

Astarion stretched his neck to see without getting any closer, but had to admit to himself he had to.
Raphael gestured to the parchment, revealing a strange collection of jagged symbols arranged in a circle. He’d seen it a few times on the devil’s desk now.

„What is this?“, he asked, voice shaking.

„I should have assumed you don’t know. Pet, this is the infernal sigil your master carved into your back. He‘s been planning a ritual for a very long time now, and he needs all his spawn to complete it.“

Astarion stared at the sigil. His back felt like it was on fire. „This… this is on my…?“

„If you‘re going to make me repeat myself, I‘ll save myself the time and get straight to carving.“

Astarion shut his mouth, but a whimper still got out, making Raphael smile.

The devil continued: „This sigil pledges your soul to the hells, in exchange for unimaginable power for your vampiric master.“

Staring at the devil in utter disbelief, Astarion felt himself shudder. He couldn’t say he was even surprised Cazador would sell him to some devil, but this? This had been set up and planned for centuries, and Astarion might never have known until the day he was led to the slaughter.

Raphael leaned forward. „But I can save you. You’re mine, now.“

The solemn words helped calm the angry storm wreaking havoc in his mind. Astarion looked up at the devil, desperate for him to give him hope.

Raphael continued. „I am going to alter the writing on your back, and if everything goes right, you will live, and your master will fall.“ He picked up the parchment and pointed at one of the jagged symbols. „This is the first one we‘re going to change.“

„Just… just this one?“

„For now.“

„Why?“ Astarion swallowed, still terrified at the prospect of being carved up, again. But if Raphael was doing it to save him, surely it was the better of two evils. And if it really was just this one symbol, it might not be that bad… but then again if Raphael needed to take care of the rest eventually… Astarion didn‘t know if he could handle it.

„There are other factors, pet. Your fellow spawn and your old master among them. Korilla has taken care of one of your siblings, while you were here, but the rest have to be considered as well.“

„My siblings?“ Astarion‘s mouth was dry. „I don’t… Why?“

„They too, carry one sigil each. All of your markings combined make for quite the intricate design. Rewriting this contract will require time, effort, and immense care. This is only the first step.“

„You‘ll need to keep doing this?“, Astarion asked, his voice weak. „Six more times? I… I can’t…!“

Quick as a snake, Raphael seized him around the throat and pulled him over the table to growl in his face.

„You can, and you will! You’ve shown me your bite, I wouldn’t have gone through this amount of trouble if you hadn’t!“ He pointed the dagger at Astarion‘s nose. „Either, it’s the slaughter, or you emerge empowered and more than any vampire could ever be. Would you rather I leave you to the fate your old master has written for you?“

Fuck no.

Astarion didn‘t want to die, not as part of some grand sacrifice, nor in any other stupid way. But be… somehow more than what Cazador had made him? Yes. Astarion deserved this chance. What were a few more hours of suffering compared to what he’d already survived for no reason other than Cazador’s amusement?

He met Raphael’s gaze. „Let’s get this over with, then.“

Raphael smiled, releasing him. „There’s that bite. Good boy“, the devil said, one hand on the hard wood of the table. „On your stomach, now.“

Astarion felt his heart clench painfully at the sight of that dreaded dagger reflecting the hellfire all around. It was hot. Despite his nakedness, he was sweating.

Astarion knew he didn‘t have a choice.
Not really. He never did. And the last thing he wanted was for Raphael to hurt him more than necessary, or to drag this out any longer.

So, he climbed onto the table. His mind retreated. He hardly felt Raphael guide his hands and feet into the restraints and pulling them tight.

He scarcely registered how he lay stretched out on the stained wood, his back exposed for the devil to carve up.

He didn‘t notice said devil running a hand over his scars, didn‘t feel his body twitching in response, nor the tears running down his cheeks.

Raphael said something Astarion couldn’t understand. His warm hand rested between his shoulder blades.

Then, the tip of the dagger kissed his skin.
Astarion closed his eyes, trying to keep in mind this needed to happen so he could live. Just a little more pain to be spared damnation. He could handle it. He had to.

The pain cut through his skin and muscle, and into the very core of his being.
Astarion screamed, a shrill animal noise coming straight from his tormented soul. He twitched, unable to move any further.

Raphael still held him down with his free hand, then twisted the knife with the other. Astarion felt him cut through the raised knotted tissue of his scars, altering the letters forever. The blade was hot, enabling the devil to cut through his skin easily.

Even after centuries, Astarion remembered the Needle being colder than ice.

This? This was unbearably hot. Astarion felt like his skin was about to drip right off his body. But somehow this vast difference in temperature made the torturous experience much easier. It wasn’t the same as what Cazador did.
Also, Raphael‘s hand was much steadier. He didn‘t need to make revisions, or correct himself, or heal the cuts only to start over. All things told it went over rather quicker than Astarion had feared.
It was still one of the most painful experiences he ever had to live through.

Raphael didn’t berate him for responding to the ministrations, either. When Astarion twitched and bucked, the devil petted his neck and between his shoulders. When he wailed, Raphael purred for him to calm himself.

Clearly, the devil enjoyed his screams just as Cazador did, but his response was somehow easier for Astarion to handle.

„You are going to be glorious“, whispered the fiend. „Just one more cut. Once more, pet. Let it all out.“

Raphael was soothing him, in his own strange way, as Astarion wailed and bled on the table, his voice breaking.

It was over quicker than Astarion had anticipated, since the devil hadn’t altered all of the scar, only a few of the symbols. Still, Astarion was a quivering crying mess, fingernails broken from clawing into the table, eyes swimming with tears, hair dripping with sweat.

Finally Raphael removed the blade from his flesh and began to chant in what Astarion assumed was infernal.
The language sounded jagged and threatening, but Astarion was just glad the pain was over.

Until the heat from Raphael‘s hand burned him, and it very quickly got hot enough to make Astarion fear his flesh was melting.
He screamed and fought against the restraints, certain he was about to actually burn up and die.

As Astarion fought to escape, his body grew hot, his skin dissolved into mist, and his mind raged and cried out, only wishing to get away and escape this torment.

Raphael interrupted his chant with a grunt of surprise, then gripped him around the back of the neck. Astarion‘s body immediately stopped dissolving.

„No turning into a bat, now. I know it hurts, but…“

Astarion couldn’t understand the rest over the ringing in his ears. He was beginning to convulse, twisting on the table as well as he was able to. His head felt like it was about to explode, and he tasted blood, his own, on his tongue.

Whatever Raphael was doing, Astarion felt his power burrow into him and rend him apart. He was breaking. He was dying.

As Astarion‘s vision turned dark and his body shivered and twitched, he felt his consciousness slip away.

The endless black void churning where he threatened to plunge should have scared him, but his despair to escape the endless pain made him feel nothing but gratitude at the prospect of falling.

His awareness was snuffed out in an instant as he let go.

„Oh, little mouse.“

A large warm hand gently petted his head, and Astarion, in his first hazy moments of waking up, nuzzled into the touch.

„There you go, wake up.“

Astarion opened his eyes, but everything was a blur. His lashes were sticky with half-dried tears, and he could barely move.

His body felt like it wasn’t his own, but at least there was feeling there.
He wasn’t dead.

Astarion tried to speak, but only managed a wheeze. What had Raphael done to him?

„It’s alright“, whispered the devil. „It‘s over, now.“

Turning his hand, Astarion realized he was still strapped to the table. He flinched, then hissed with pain as his back rebelled against even this small movement.

„Fuck…!“, he wheezed.

„Very eloquent“, the devil replied, chuckling. „Anything else, pet?“

„Yes“, Astarion said, his voice a bit stronger now. „Fuck you!“

Raphael laughed and patted his head. „I take it you’re feeling better. Recovering. That’s good.“

„B… bindings…“, Astarion stammered, trying to twist his shaking hand through the leather straps.

„Not just yet“, cooed the devil. „I haven’t finished drinking this in.“

Astarion felt the devil lean over him, his shadow consuming his bleeding, quivering form.

Then, his fingers traced the raw wounds on his back, making Astarion cry out in pain.
Raphael paid it no mind, instead he began to mutter:

„Oh, I‘ve hated seeing you marked like this, for him. But this a start, this is better, yes.“

Astarion violently twitched when a large claw scraped the dried blood off the raw wound. Dark brackish blood lazily trickled down the side of his back, and he felt Raphael scoop it up with a finger.

The devil hummed as he licked if off, running his hand over the length of Astarion’s body almost reverently.

„Your agony is truly exquisite, pet. It‘ll be worth it, in the end. You‘ll thank me.“

Astarion was not quite ready to say anything of the sort. The pain was enough to make his vision flicker dangerously. „What did you do…?“ he muttered, voice muffled by the wood of the table.

„Just a little magic. I have to undo the ties on your soul, and reforge them. I assure you, hellfire is absolutely vital. Nothing you couldn’t take, little mouse. It’s all over.“

Surprised at the answer so directly given, Astarion quivered and turned his head. „Will you untie me now, then?“

„Not quite yet.“

„Why?“

Raphael’s put his hands to both sides of Astarion‘s head and leaned in to whisper in his ear. „Because I want to enjoy this just a bit longer.“ With a sharp claw, he traced the path the blood had taken from wounds he had carved.

Astarion released the breath he had held in his lungs, too tired to even offer a quip anymore. He had no choice but to endure the devil’s strange obsession.

„You didn‘t sleep with Haarlep“, Raphael said. „Why was that, little mouse?“

Shuddering, Astarion closed his eyes and sighed.

The devil leaned in close enough to move Astarion’s hair with his breath. „I asked you a question.“ His hand crept around Astarion’s throat and closed around his face from below, lifting his head off the table. The tips of his claws pinched his cheeks and the corners of his eyes.

„I didn‘t want to“, Astarion uttered. The devil forced his back to arch, and it hurt enough to make his vision flicker.

Raphael chuckled. „Everyone wants to have an incubus. Tell me. Were you suspecting the pain I would bring? Was it some misguided rebellion?“

Yes, and yes. Astarion bared his fangs at the devil, although his heart wasn‘t really in it. „You can’t seriously expect to pacify me by drugging me…“

„Oh, but I did“, Raphael interrupted him, pinning his head flat to the table. At least Astarion’s back thanked him. „You were much calmer than I would have expected in the face of such torture. I expected to have to force you onto the table kicking and screaming. Haarlep did well, then. Say, were they good to you?“

Astarion was still baring his fangs in defiance and disgust. „They drugged me, they…!“

„They followed my orders and kept you from doing anything stupid, like trying to run. Which, must I remind you, is a breach of contract. Say, Astarion: Would you like to return to your old master?“

Astarion sobbed, because clearly he didn‘t. Even if Cazador wasn’t planning on butchering him in some ritual to become even more of a mean bastard, Raphael was the better master. The devil was cruel, but even with his frankly terrifying obsession with Astarion, he was the better master. And if he truly wanted to make Astarion benefit from whatever Cazador had planned, all the better.

„I thought so“, said Raphael when Astarion didn’t reply, leaning even closer. His chest was pressing into Astarion’s wounds, making him hiss. „Now, be a good pet, and don’t let your pride ruin this opportunity. Most things that have been dead as long as you never get a chance like this.“

Astarion gritted his teeth, feeling oddly insulted at being called a „dead thing“. But Raphael was right, whether he liked it or not.

By now, Raphael had practically mounted him, his hard body flush against Astarion’s. He was shaking with the pain from his wounds, but beneath the devil, at least he didn‘t feel cold.

„Are you… going to untie me?“, Astarion whispered, dreading the answer. It felt more like Raphael would fuck him into the table before doing anything else, least of all release him.

Astarion was certain he felt the devil’s hard length against his bare thigh. He was more than certain when Raphael shifted.

He braced himself to be spread open, to feel the sharp claws tear into him, but instead, the devil got up and left off him. Then he undid the leather bindings, freeing Astarion.

Hardly believing his luck, Astarion scrambled to sit up and get off the table, but swayed and flopped back down, gasping for air he didn’t need. It felt like someone had stabbed him right between the shoulders. He struggled to stay on his side, not wanting to rip the wound even deeper.

„We should get to healing you up“, Raphael murmured, watching him squirm with gleaming eyes. But he didn‘t heal him, or get him off the table, or teleport him out of the room.

He wanted Astarion to ask him for healing.

Immediately, a searing indignant anger flared up within him. He knew lashing out or yelling wouldn’t get him anything but more pain.

„Please“, he said, his voice barely audible. For fuck’s sake she shouldn’t have to beg after what he’d just endured!

„What? I didn‘t quite catch that.“

Astarion’s head snapped up, and he snarled: „Heal me, damn you!“

The devil chuckled, his tail lashing in excitement as he circled the table. „Did you keep count, pet? Of how many times you’ve cursed and insulted me since yesterday? I did.“

Dread crept up Astarion‘s tortured spine, and he twisted to keep the eyes on the devil. His first instinct was to hurl another insult, then his exhausted mind scrambled to come up with an apology. In the end, he said nothing.

„I did“, Raphael continued. „If you desire punishment this much, you can just be upfront, and ask me to hurt you.“ He stopped. „Otherwise, you might want to watch your tone with me.“

As the devil loomed over him, Astarion‘s rage quickly evaporated into uncertainty and fear. He knew he should watch his tongue, he knew an apology might calm Raphael enough to end this torture and let him go back to his room to rest.

Hells, the devil was even helping him escape this dreadful sacrifice Cazador had marked him for. Really, Astarion shouldn’t just apologize, but thank him. It would be the sane and safe thing to do.

But every part of him revolted at the thought of offering anything but defiance and anger after being hurt like this. He had spent the last few hours strapped to a table and carved into by both magic and the very dagger he least wanted touching him, ever again.

Astarion wasn’t sane, not right now, not in this nightmarish dungeon room. He felt decidedly less than his usual self in here. Debased, thoroughly humiliated, and scared shitless, not to mention the pain he was in, the power difference between him and Raphael had never been greater. And it was driving Astarion mad.

Raphael was watching him like a hawk, tail twitching with interest. He examined Astarion struggle to get a hold of the whirlwind of emotions, his gaze almost clinical. Slowly, he reached out a hand towards Astarion’s face.

His expression was unreadable, and Astarion had no idea wether he was about to be petted or throttled.
Eying the large red hand, Astarion braced himself for the worst.

Raphael paused, as if considering which he actually wanted to do (the petting, or the choking), and eventually stroked along Astarion’s cheek, before closing his fingers around the back of his neck.
He kept him in place with a strong grip as he leaned down to him until they were almost at eye level.

„Why don’t you try seeing this as a lesson?“, he whispered conspiratorially. „There’s no-one here but us. You’re perfectly safe. Go ahead and apologize. And while you’re at it, try asking me for healing, nicely.“ He smiled with all his teeth. „I won’t tell anyone.“

Astarion began to shake. He wasn’t sure if he was scared or angry, or both, or just exhausted.

Raphael seemed fascinated by his expression, almost delighted. His thumb was playing with strand of hair curling against Astarion‘s neck. „Since we’re alone, little mouse, and considering what you‘ve been through in just a day, let me meet you halfway.“ He leaned in a little closer. „Please“, he purred.

Astarion sobbed, the devil’s face became blurry as tears began to fall. It felt silly. It was only one word, after all. Just one simple word. But to hear Raphael say it, and say it to Astarion, when he lay bleeding, naked and and rattled on a torture rack he had put him on? It was all too much.

As Astarion broke into tears, Raphael gently stroked his neck, much like a lover would. „Take your time“, Raphael said. „But not too much. You must be exhausted. Don’t you want to rest?“

Astarion nodded, sniffling and feeling like a snot-nosed child. „Thank you“, he wailed. „Thank you, master. P… please heal me.“

The devil caressed the back of his head with his thumb. „Very good. But let’s not forget the apology.“

By now, Astarion was openly crying. His entire body was shaking with his sobbing, and tears were running down his face, enough to pool on the table, where they mingled with the blood. „I‘m… I‘m s… sorry for insulting you…! Please, heal me, please…!“

Raphael smiled, and it was the truest smile Astarion had ever seen on him.
„Good pet“, he cooed, then pulled Astarion in and kissed him, despite the frankly disgustingly messy state he was in.

Astarion felt like he might shatter and break apart, but something in him hoped, no, trusted Raphael to take care of him, to put him back together.

Surely it was the pain making him delirious.

Raphael broke the kiss and sighed, resting his forehead against Astarion’s. „Now, let‘s get you healed up and fed.“ He picked up Astarion and cradled him close, turning away from the table.

Astarion caught a last glimpse of the room. The jagged symbols sketched out on notes, papers and scrolls, the table sticky with dried blackish blood and gore, the circle of candles, the bloody dagger still glowing with infernal magic.

It was evident a ritual had been conducted here, and knowing he had been the subject if it, made Astarion feel queasy. He understood close to nothing of what had been done to him, neither by Cazador, nor by Raphael.

Perhaps, if he asked nicely, Raphael might explain.

But not today.

Astarion had done enough of this „asking nicely“ for today.

He let himself melt into the devil’s embrace and closed his eyes.
There was a sharp crackle as Raphael displaced them from the dungeons.

Astarion was put down in the warm water of the healing pool, and stirred awake.
Carefully, the fiend sat him down in the pool and left him there as he walked over to the desk.

Astarion turned his head, disoriented and a bit confused. It had been a while since he’d been in this pool on his own, without any fiend pulling him into their lap or washing or just groping him.

Raphael sat in his chair and began to write something down. „You‘ll need to sit and let the magic work for a while. I had to take measures so the alterations would scar. We‘d have to do this again, in this case.“

Astarion flinched at the mere thought of it, and sank a bit deeper into the pool. He sighed as he felt the bleeding stop, and the skin knit back together.

With one hand, he reached back and tentatively touched the new scars. There was a clean raised line on his skin now, where there hadn’t been before. He followed it and quickly found where it crossed the old scar, and past it, where it split into two new carvings. Raphael had made more than just a small alteration to one of the symbols, there were some additional scars connecting to the existing ones, the skin still tingling with how recently it had been cut into, and with the strong magic Raphael had weaved into him.

„It’s beautiful“, Raphael said.

Astarion flinched and quickly turned to see the devil watching him from his chair.

„The sigil“, he clarified. „It’s beautiful. It enhances you. And it’s going to vastly improve the butchery your old master inflicted on you.“

„He said…“, Astarion cawed, his voice embarrassingly hoarse from screaming and crying. „He said he was making me into art. He said it was a poem…“

„He marked you as meat for the slaughter“, Raphael snarled, his tail lashing in agitation. „Besides the shoddy craftsmanship, his infernal is barely coherent. When we are done, little mouse, you’ll be truly magnificent for the new sigil I‘m making.“

Astarion had some difficulty sharing in the devil’s excitement. He couldn’t even see the before or after, and he wasn’t keen on being cut up like this again, until Raphael was done.

„When?“, he asked. „When are you… going to continue?“

„As soon as possible. Unfortunately, we‘ll need either access to one of your siblings, or to your old master’s contract. Both will be exceedingly difficult to obtain, as he’s gone into hiding.“

Astarion was reeling. „What?“

„Oh, don’t concern yourself with this, little mouse“, Raphael replied. „I have warlocks for that.“ He snapped his fingers, summoning a goblet of blood to Astarion’s hands.

Astarion looked at the huge devil sorting through his papers, and nodded. He really was too tired to worry about his accursed family, or what else was in store for him.

Hungry after the damage that had been inflicted on him, he quickly drank the blood (it was elf), emptying the cup in one go.

He gingerly leaned back against the wall of the pool, and sighed, closing his eyes.

„Good pet“, Raphael said. „Rest up. We have work to do, tomorrow.“

Astarion napped for a while, simply just enjoying the warmth and peace for the moment.

Raphael got him out of the pool eventually, and put him in his bed, joining him shortly after.

Astarion didn‘t protest or resist when the devil covered them both with the silk blanket, then wrapped a muscled arm around him and pulled him close.

It was incredibly comfortable and warm, and so Astarion didn‘t dwell on the indignity of it all. Better the devil used him as a plushie than a sex toy.
Until he had rested, at least, Astarion could handle simply being coddled.

After everything, perhaps a part of him craved it.

Astarion awoke, free from any devilish arms embracing him. He felt a bit shaky and fragile, but otherwise fine.

Both the healing and the meal had restored his body, though he expected his mind would require some more time, and quiet.

When he sat up, he was greeted by a familiar devil‘s face, wearing another one‘s unmistakable smirk.

Astarion flinched back. „Haarlep.“

„Good, you’re awake. How are you feeling?“

„Kindly fuck off, darling“, Astarion snarled, quickly recalling what the incubus had done to him.

„Aw, don’t be like that“, they replied. „What did I do to you?“

Astarion glared at them, but realized they were right. It would be silly indeed to be truly angry with a fellow slave. He rubbed his eyes. „You know what, I don’t even remember why I was upset with you.“

„Aw, that’s good!“, Haarlep called.

Astarion turned around and grumbled: „Where’s Raphael?“

„Researching. He’s asked me to watch you and tell him if you wake up. Buuuut…“ They playfully rolled onto their back, wings spreading over their side of the bed. „I can wait a little longer, if you want a few extra minutes to yourself.“

„To myself? You mean you‘ll keep pestering me all on your own?“

„Yes, naturally.“ Haarlep giggled. „Gods, I am SO glad you handled the ritual alright!“

„You mean… something could have happened to me?“

„Oh yes, are you kidding?“ The incubus rolled back over. „You could have melted into a blob of boiling flesh, easily. Master did a lot of research so the risk would be minimised, but… you know.“ They shrugged. „You never know with these things.“

Astarion stared at them. „Could you… stop talking? Fuck, I‘d rather deal with Raphael…“

„I mean I could call Raphael right now, let him know you’re up…“

Astarion glowered. „Or?“

„Or you could show me your scars. Come on, I‘m dying to see this!“

Astarion pulled the blanket tighter around himself. „Well, since I haven’t seen it yet, I‘m hardly going to show you, dear.“

„Why not? It’s not my fault you can’t see your reflection.“

Scowling, Astarion wrapped the blanket around his body and got out of bed. „Well now I‘m even less inclined to show you. Can’t you just… leave me?“

„Sweetling, this IS technically MY room.“

„And yet…“ Astarion struggled to look down his nose at the incubus, naked and only wrapped in a blanket. „…he put me here.“

„And told me to wait here to wait for you to wake up“, Haarlep shot back. „You, little vampling, are in my domain.“ They seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves.

Astarion found that he was starting to see the fun in the easy banter as well. „Threats, now?“, he said lightly. „You should know I don’t respond well to those. Bargaining, however…“

Haarlep prettily pouted, tail swishing as they considered what to say next. „What if… I promise to draw it for you? That way we could both see! I am a really good drawer…“ they paused. „Drawee? Ugh whatever I‘m good at drawing!“

Astarion chuckled despite himself. „You know, that’s actually not that bad of an idea. But you get the paper and pen first. I don’t want you feeling me up with your eyes and forget the drawing.“

Wagging their tail, Haarlep jumped off the bed and began looking for the required equipment. „Not like I haven’t felt you up plenty yesterday“, they quipped.

„Not like you got enough of it“,Astarion snapped back.

He watched their nimble fingers rifle through a drawer and remembered how they had touched him just hours before.
He shuddered remembering this evening, how powerless he had been to stop the incubus, how he’d begged for them, in the end, delirious due to their venom.

But Haarlep had respected his wish not to have sex with them.
Astarion still couldn’t quite wrap his head around why, but he found that, despite being drugged and held inside the room by the incubus, he was grateful to them.

While he didn‘t think he was quite ready to say it out loud, he quietly admitted it to himself.

Haarlep leapt back onto the bed, crossing their legs. They had gotten a pen and notebook. „I am ready, sweetling. Now, show me that lovely back of yours.“

Astarion shrugged the blanket off partway, keeping it around his waist, then turned his back to the incubus.

Haarlep was silent for a moment, then began to quietly sketch, the pen scratching over the paper.

„You’re a bit too quiet, darling.“ Astarion peeked over his shoulder. „Something wrong?“

Haarlep glanced up, meeting his gaze. „With THIS picture of a beautiful vampire? Never! Why would you even ask that?“

„Well, because I normally can’t get you to shut up about how pretty I am and wanting to touch me“, Astarion replied. „Can’t you tell me? Or do you just not want to?“

The incubus held his gaze, their expression solemn. It seemed they were thinking about how to best reply. „It’s… it’s an interesting read, is all. You don’t see an infernal contract carved into a pretty vampling every day.“

„An interesting read?“ Astarion raised his eyebrows. „Really, now?“

Haarlep rolled their eyes. „What? Surprised I can read?“

„Not at all, actually“, Astarion replied. „So, what does it say, exactly?“

Breaking eye contact and continuing their drawing, the incubus shrugged. „Honestly, this is honestly a whole complicated mess. I‘m not great with contracts, and this one’s… not even complete. It’s one of seven, I can see that. What Raphael did, well… it’s like changing a few letters around. See?“ They held up the paper and showed Astarion the sigil they had haphazardly copied. They had paid special attention to one of the symbols, which had been altered to be bolder and show a different shape, the ends connecting to lines leading to the neighbouring symbols, and to the central one.

Astarion stared. „I‘m not sure what I‘m seeing“, he admitted, shuddering.

„Yes, well… I told you it’s complicated. You used to do something with legal stuff, yes? Contracts and laws and stuff? That must have been part of it.“

„I suppose it‘s good at least Raphael knows what I used to do“, he groused. „I don’t remember. Where are you going with this?“

„I mean infernal isn’t like your languages. It’s a lot deeper, there are words, but it’s really more about meaning. Your language is a puddle of piss compared to the infinite well of complexity infernal can offer.“ Haarlep grinned. „No offense.“

Astarion shrugged. „Continue.“

„Well imagine the most complicated thing you’ve ever read. Imagine subclauses within subclauses, and footnotes within footnotes. And now: Imagine you want to change its meaning, but you have to do it letter by letter.“

„Why?“

„Because if you go too fast, and disregard the footnotes and subclauses, the contract will lose its meaning. The contract loses its meaning, you lose everything. It’s simple, really. Also, if you don’t start small enough, and with the correct letter, you might get caught tampering with a legal document, yes?“

Astarion looked at Haarlep, really looked at them. The incubus seemed almost bored explaining the ins and outs to him like this - it was second nature to them just to think like this. What was more: They were talking to Astarion freely, for once. Readily offering him the explanations he had craved for so long.

„Caught by whom?“, Astarion asked, very carefully.

Haarlep froze. „Er… who, you ask?“

„Well, yes“, Astarion affirmed. „Who might catch Raphael, if he isn’t careful?“

„Oh, uh… mh…“ The incubus squirmed. „I don’t know.“ They briefly looked up at Astarion again, before dropping their gaze again. „Alright, I do know. But if you don’t know, that means Raphael hasn’t told you, and there’s probably a good reason for that, so… I can’t.“ They made a helpless gesture.

Astarion nodded, feeling his brief flash of hope fade away into an echo of despair.

„Sorry“, added the incubus (less than helpfully). „Raphael’s the boss.“

„It’s alright. Apparently last time he didn‘t want me to know something, it was because there was a risk I might melt into a boiling blob of flesh… I suppose it didn‘t happen, so… maybe Raphael has everything under control.“

„I‘m sure he does“, Haarlep said tentatively, like they expected Astarion to snap at them any moment.

„Well, then, I suppose…“ Astarion shrugged. „You’re saying Raphael just changed a few letters?“

„Yes. Yes, look.“ Haarlep pointed at the paper. „This used to mean something akin to „sacrifice“, now it’s been changed to „payment“, I think. The words are almost the same in infernal. These words“, they pointed again, „aren’t finished yet. I think it’s going to make sense once he gets to the neighbouring symbols.“

„This is like a puzzle to you, isn’t it?“, Astarion asked, feeling queasy again. „Is this fun to you?“

„It’s really not my idea of fun to cut contracts into people, or playing around with words. I do enjoy some good infernal poetry, as long as I don’t have to write it“, they replied haughtily. „I have other talents. Poetry.“ They blew a raspberry.

„Raphael has a lot of poetry books“, Astarion said.

„Of course he does. He could have me, all day, all the time, but instead he goes for poetry and pesky contracts. Honestly Raphael is just SO boring.“

„I wish“, Astarion sighed. „I‘d just like some peace and quiet. I haven’t had any time to process any of this, yet.“

„I don’t like peace and quiet“, Haarlep said pointedly. „And I‘m not leaving, since this is my room.“

„Yes, you’ve said. Since you’re so eager to share a bed with me“ (Haarlep perked up, wagging their tail and smiling at him) „why not join me for a nap?“ Astarion raised his hand placatingly. „Just a nap.“

The incubus‘ face fell. „Ugh“, they sneered. „You’re as boring as Raphael, aren’t you?“

Astarion scoffed. „I‘m exhausted out of my mind, you horny bastard!“

„And I, as you’ve correctly glimpsed, am always horny.“ Haarlep flopped onto the bed. „And hungry. It’s been a whole day since I‘ve been able to feed.“

Astarion cringed a bit. A day, that was nothing. He‘d gone a whole year without sustenance, once. But he sympathised with the hungry fiend being denied his basic needs.

Astarion wasn’t sure what a creature like Haarlep even ate, but they didn‘t need to know that!

„I understand hunger“, he conceded carefully. „You deserve to eat, at least.“

Lazily, Haarlep rolled to their side, flexing their wings. A playful glint entered their eyes. Apparently they were back to playing. „I do, don’t I?“

„Well, yes.“ Astarion scooted away. What was the incubus up to, now?

Haarlep followed him, keeping the gap between them as small as it had been. „What do you think I eat, vampling?“

„I assume it isn’t grapes?“ Astarion pointed to a bowl of the fruit on the nightstand.

The door swung open, and Raphael quietly entered the room.
He froze when he saw Astarion wide awake on the bed, Haarlep sprawled out next to him.

„Haarlep“, he growled, after catching himself. „Didn‘t I order you to tell me when Astarion woke up?“

The incubus lazily waved the spade tip of their tail at their master. „Astarion‘s awake.“

Astarion had to bite back a chuckle, but Raphael snarled and snapped his fingers, displacing the incubus from the bed to gods knew where.

Astarion faced the devil with some discomfort, eyeing the drawing Haarlep had made of the scars. He hoped Raphael wouldn’t count this as a betrayal.

The devil followed his gaze, but chose to ignore the elephant in the room, moving over to the desk.

„I hope you’re recovering“, he said. „Because I have plans for you.“

„Plans“, Astarion huffed. „Am I safe to assume they’ll involve me risking my life, again, or just being strapped to a table, for whatever purpose?“ He rested his chin in his palm. „Am I getting this right?“

Raphael sat in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. „Don’t tempt me, sweetling. But alas, no. Any fool could see you need some time to recover.“

Astarion considered the devil, relieved but confused. „Then what do you mean by „work“? I‘m not mopping your floors.“

„You‘ll do whatever I order you to“, Raphael bluntly pointed out. „But luckily for you, I have slaves for that. No, I think it’s time we figured out your shapeshifting. We wouldn’t want any more unexpected surprises, would we?“

„Oh, well… actually I‘d rather not get stuck as a tiny critter, again, darling. It was all rather… humiliating.“

„Oh?“ Raphael‘s mouth twitched in amusement. „Humiliating, was it?“

„I was about the size of a teacup“, Astarion sneered, shuddering at the memory. „Forced to look up to everyone, and crawl about… I couldn’t even bloody stand!“

„Are you implying you’re unhappy with your boon?“, asked Raphael. There was definetely a growl in his voice now.

Astarion froze mid-rant. „No?“, he tried, unconvincingly.

„Lying, again? Pet, I told you not to lie.“

Astarion squirmed. „I don’t… I mean I suppose it’s not that bad. I just… I don’t know, I expected something else. Magic, hellfire, power?“

Raphael abruptly stood, flexing his wings. „Shapeshifting isn’t something to be scoffed at, Astarion. You’ll learn to control it, and you’ll be grateful.“

„I…“ Astarion pulled his head in. „I suppose I can learn to be a… er… better bat…“ He swallowed. „I suppose I just think shifting into something bigger would be more advantageous. Something with more teeth“, he ventured.

Raphael nodded, crossing his arms behind his back. „Oh, would you like to add anything to the list? Some fire breath, perhaps? Talons? Spikes?“

They looked at each other for a few silent seconds, before Astarion said: „I don’t think any of these are an option?“

„You should make a habit of listening to me when I tell you about things like boons, or contracts, or rules“, Raphael answered coolly. „Just this once I‘ll repeat myself to get this into your thick head: You receive a boon from your bond with me. I have no influence on how that boon manifests itself. So, your little wish list? Forget it. However, now that your boon has manifested, you’d do well to understand it. We wouldn’t want you to get „stuck“ as a bat again.“

Astarion sighed. Silly of him to think even a devil‘s boon might grant him even a shred of power.

„Fine, then“, he said. „Do I have to say „thank you“ for the exciting opportunity to turn into a tiny rodent?“

„It certainly wouldn’t go amiss“, Raphael grumbled. „But I‘d be a fool to believe you‘d offer it freely.“

He was right. Astarion stayed silent, hoping Raphael wouldn’t force through words out of him.

The devil spoke. „Bats aren’t rodents.“

Astarion cocked his head. „Excuse me?“

„They are their own group“, the devil clarified. „Far removed from rodents.“ He came closer to Astarion. „Frankly, they are remarkable creatures. You have access to my entire library. I suggest you read up in the subject.“

Astarion blinked up at him, flabbergasted and feeling more than a little stupid.

Content with his expression, the devil continued: „And they don’t „crawl about“. They fly.“

Chapter Text

„Korilla says you told her about how you turned when you got captured and were about to be tied up.“

Astarion nodded. He was dressed and fed, and feeling a bit less irritable for it.
Raphael had given him an hour in his own room, and asked him to return so they could work on Astarion‘s shifting ability.

After the break, he didn‘t flinch at every one of Raphael’s movements anymore.

„You also tried turning yesterday on the table. We can assume it was triggered by fear, then, both times.“

Astarion squirmed, his back was beginning to itch at the memory. „Not that it helped, both times.“

„Didn‘t it? I believe it might have been rather useful to be able to simply fly away.“

Astarion froze. He hadn’t given the idea of flight much thought. His wings had been so heavy and flimsy… surely he couldn’t hope they’d carry him anywhere.

„Nothing?“, Raphael asked. „Well, let’s find out who’s right. Go on.“

„With what?“ Astarion rubbed his nose. „I can’t even consciously transform.“

„Try, pet.“ Raphael leaned over the table to him. „Before we try it my way.“

Astarion spluttered. „Wha… how?!“

The devil huffed, his tail twitching with irritation. „I have a theory that your boon is linked to your vampiric nature. Try tapping into that.“

„B… what’s that even supposed to mean, I…“

„Try!“ Raphael’s tail hardly slammed into the floor, cracking a tile.

Astarion closed his mouth and tried, but he usually didn‘t need to… tap into anything when he bit anyone, or spider climbed a wall. With his eyes squeezed shut, he tried recalling if he had done anything specific when he had turned the first time, but nothing came to mind. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind, but all that came back to him were those hands all over him, hands holding him down, hands twisting his arms to his back, hands turning red-hot and tearing into him…

„Enough of this“, snapped Raphael, and his hand, like a branding iron, closed around his upper arm.

Astarion’s eyes snapped open the moment his skin dissolved into mist. He slipped from Raphael’s grip and found himself panicking trying to materialize again, floating in a frantic zig zac for a few seconds, before slipping into his tiny bat form.

He flopped down on the table, squeaking in discomfort. Raising his head, he looked for Raphael and found the devil smirking down at him.

„Why do I have to get handsy every time I want results with you?“, he chuckled and reached for Astarion to pick him up.

Astarion bristled, both at the comment and having to hold still for being picked up. But he knew fighting the devil (especially in this form), would not pan out well for him. So he allowed Raphael to scoop him off the table for an examination.

The devil looked at him and petted his head and back, then very gingerly picked Astarion‘s wing open. „You should try flapping them“, he mused. „Go on.“

Astarion freed his wing with a high pitched growl. He felt like, if he did start flapping, he’d overbalance and drive his face into Raphael’s palm. He needed his wings tucked close to keep somewhat upright.

Then, before he could try anything, Raphael tossed him.

Tossed him (!) into the air, like a child might toss a small ball, or a person an apple.

Astarion screeched, frantically beating his wings to catch himself, but he lost his balance and only involuntarily flipped over, tumbling down heads over heals.

Raphael caught him safely in the hollow of his hand. The toss hadn’t been high, and Astarion wasn’t hurt, AND the devil didn‘t speak bat and couldn’t appreciate the insults and cusses Astarion threw at him, but Astarion still broke into a tirade.

The fact that he sounded as cute as he did, made Astarion even angrier. Stupid! What a stupid idea to turn back into this damned creature!

Raphael watched him, the corner of his mouth twitching, waiting patiently for Astarion to finish.

„Don’t you ever!“, Astarion squealed. „Ever! Throw me again!“

„Are you done?“, asked Raphael.

„Ever!“, Astarion finished with a squeak.

„Alright“, the devil gave him a pat on the head. „I understand you don’t want to be tossed, but then you’ll have to jump.“

Astarion agreed. He‘d like to jump in Raphael’s face and scratch him up a bit. „I was getting there“, he groused.

„Again, those squeaks are adorable, but pointless.“

„Fuck you!“, Astarion yipped. Might as well,
if Raphael couldn’t understand him.

The devil smirked. „I don’t need to speak bat to understand this particular insult.“ His hand closed around Astarion’s delicate body, squeezing.

Astarion screeched in panic and batted his wings against Raphael’s fingers, but quickly found himself immobilised.

The fiend lifted him in front of his face and closely looked at his struggling form.

Astarion had just primed himself to bite the devil’s finger (Raphael foolishly wasn’t wearing gloves), but the black and yellow gaze directly on him made him reconsider. He‘d only make this so much worse if he attacked Raphael now.

„Did you truly forget the little lesson I taught you just yesterday?“, the devil growled. „Your defiance, while adorable, is pointless, sweetling. Perhaps it’s time I stop threatening you, and follow through instead, hm? What do you think?“

Astarion wanted to apologize, even if Raphael couldn’t understand him, but the hand squeezed hard enough to make breathing (and squeaking) impossible.

„Yes, I think it’s time I stopped being so lenient with you. A few days in the dungeons, perhaps. I think I can whip some sense into you.“

Fuck.
Astarion hadn’t even meant his insult. It was just supposed to be a little fun. Fuck…

„Unless, you apologize to me, and it better be a very sweet apology, pet.“

Astarion frantically nodded, still unable to make a sound.

He felt Raphael squeeze him tighter, and his tiny bones creak in protest. It hurt.

Oh. Raphael expected Astarion to turn back on his own, to properly apologize. Wriggling with the pain of being slowly crushed, Astarion freed one wing and tried gesturing for Raphael to let him down, but the devil did no such thing.

So, Astarion ceased his struggle to free himself and closed his eyes instead. He wasn’t altogether sure if he had managed the transformation into this form himself, or if it had been the fear of Raphael that had given him the final push.

Either way turning into a bat was likely different than turning back. He had never done it himself. Especially knowing that his true form was about to be subjected to torture very soon.

Raphael squeezed harder, and Astarion suddenly wondered what would happen to him if he died in this form. Was he still a vampire, and safe from real death unless he was staked, beheaded, or exposed to sunlight and holy water?

That was about all the time he had to think these frantic thoughts, before his ribs snapped.

Really, it was hard to say how many, even though Astarion considered himself an expert in assessing any damage done to him (he had had practice). But as a bat, he wasn’t sure. It was more than one.

A choked squeal escaped him as he was consumed by pain. Although his bones were currently about as stable as matches, breaking them hurt just the same as he was used to.
Worst of all: Astarion couldn’t even scream, or properly writhe in his agony.

Raphael abruptly released him, dropping him on the table, where Astarion rather helplessly flopped around, trying to beat his wings to get away, but Raphael made another grab for him.

Seeing the claws descend towards him, Astarion was consumed by mortal fear. He choked out a squeal, but it came out stuttering and broken.

Before he knew it, his form dissolved again. It happened quickly, this time, since his body was so small, but then he found himself in his non-physical mist-form.

Raphael’s hand passed through him without doing harm, and Astarion tried to remain as he was. Being safe from touch sounded like the best option to him right now.

But hells, if it wasn’t difficult. It cost him immense concentration not to slip into a physical form. It was, after all, what he was used to.

As he thought this, he manifested again, as his elven self, in front of Raphael on the desk.

He hastily gulped down a lungful of air, then felt around his ribs for the damage, but when he had transformed, apparently he had left the injuries with his bat form.

„The hells…!“, Astarion wheezed. „The hells was that!“

Raphael was weirdly quiet, examining his hand.
The devil looked… aghast? His eyes were noticeably wider than before, his lips slightly parted.

„That… that wasn’t supposed to happen“, he said slowly. „Let me…“ He reached for Astarion, making him freeze.

„Stay the bloody hells away from me!“ Astarion backed off against the wall, kicking papers and books off the table.

Raphael flinched back, looking like Astarion had just struck him. It was a few long seconds before he said. „You… you‘re free to return to your room, Astarion.“

„What?“ Astarion stared, reeling. „What…? Did you…?“ He tried ordering his thoughts, but after literally being crushed in Raphael’s hand, the shock was had to wrestle down. „The dungeons?“, he managed, finally.

Raphael looked at his hand again, slowly curling his fingers into a fist. „No dungeons. I‘ll call you when I have need of you. Rest up, until then.“

He snapped his fingers and displaced Astarion from the room.

Astarion reappeared on his bed, where he promptly fell onto his back, breathing hard and trying to get his bearings.

After a few (dozen) seconds, Astarion took a very deep and controlled breath, held it for a moment and them screamed at the top of his lungs:

„WHAT THE FUCK!“

He sat up, hands digging into the bedding, then got up and stormed towards the exit.

If Raphael had locked him in, again, he‘d kill him. But the door wasn’t locked, there was no magical barrier behind it.

„Oh…“ Astarion stretched out an arm and felt around for anything that might invisibly contain him, but there was nothing. He was free to leave.

Well, now Astarion didn‘t want to leave. Being alone was just what he needed. Some nice trancing, some time to think, some time to decidedly not be a bat, broken ribs or no.

Astarion closed the door, then turned the key after some brief consideration. No disturbances. Raphael hadn’t told him how long he’d have to wait until he was summoned again, but it didn‘t matter.
He was alone now, and looking to avoid disturbances.

Astarion wasn’t in pain, but knowing his ribs had just been snapped, and likely still were in his bat form, made him feel sick.
Maybe he should turn back, assess the damage, and make sure the tiny body was alright.

„This is stupid“, Astarion said to no-one in particular.

He was alone. There really was no need to turn back into a bat anytime soon. He just wanted to be left alone, and he got his wish, apparently.

Rest up, Raphael had told him.

Bedtime, then.

Just as Astarion decided to go lay down to get a trance in, there was a crack and a rush of flames as someone materialised in the room.

Really?

Fuck.

„Astarion!“ It was Korilla.

„Oh, for hells‘ sake!“, Astarion shouted.

„Bad time?“, she asked. „Sorry. Raphael says you need healing, urgently.“ she frowned. „You look fine to me. Where does it hurt?“

„I‘m fine!“, Astarion snapped. „Kindly fuck off and leave me alone.“

The dwarf was quiet for a second, then carefully said: „You seem… a bit worked up. What happened?“

Astarion scoffed. „So, Raphael told you I was hurt, but didn‘t tell you anything else?“

„Obviously“, the dwarf replied. „Broken bones, somewhere? But you’re moving just fine.“

There was no way Astarion was about to explain any of the details to her. „You brought a potion?“

„Yes.“ She showed him a large round bottle. „Very potent. Raphael said to make you drink it all. Honestly, he seemed more spooked than you. And you seem pretty spooked.“

„I’m not spooked!“ Astarion shook his head in disbelief. „Just leave the bottle, why don’t you?“

„No can do“, she said with a shrug. „He wants me to make sure you’re okay. Now please tell me where you’re hurting.“

Staring at her, Astarion tried to work out how to tell her, and what to tell her. Finally he pointedly said: „I‘m fine since I turned back, after Raphael crushed me as a bat.“

Korilla spluttered. „He what?!“

„Crushed me.“ Astarion enunciated every syllable. „Broke a few ribs, actually.“

„What… By accident, or…?“

„Definetely not.“

„But… did you…? You must have pissed him off, big time!“

Astarion waved a hand. „Well, maybe a little. But crushing people… that’s just… rude“, he finished, lacking any better words.

Korilla chuckled. „Aight I get why you’re mad, but we can put this behind you. You’re undead, so any wound is gonna heal up fast. We‘ll heal you up in no-time. Although… If it’s the bat that needs healing, you should get a bowl, perhaps. Might be easier if you get in the potion, than getting this much potion in you.“

„I‘m not going to bathe in potion!“ Astarion crossed his arms.

„I think you will“, replied the dwarf with a shrug. „Come now. It‘ll be much easier. If your ribs are broken, you’ll have trouble moving, right? Not to mention drinking.“

Squirming, Astarion looked away. Fuck, the dwarf was right.

„Fine“, Astarion said pointedly. „Get me a bowl, then.“

She did, and they both sat on the floor, facing each other, the bowl in the middle. Korilla carefully poured the potion in, and the biting scent of Rogue‘s Morsel filled the room. Astarion suppressed a sneeze. He had always hated this smell.

„So, can you do it now? Turning on your own?“, Korilla asked. „Seems you learn quickly.“

„I‘m not sure. I might… need a moment.“ He met her eyes. „If I can’t make it in there, will you help me?“

„Of course, sweetheart“, she said earnestly.

Astarion closed his eyes and went back to imagining the hands on him, everywhere, holding, hurting, squeezing…

It came to him easier, this time. The desire to just… get away from everything helped him let go of his physical form and become mist. It was still terrifying to not have a solid form, not to mention challenging (how was he supposed to even move around in the empty air?), but Astarion took a moment to prepare to slip into the damaged body he had so abruptly left behind.

Korilla made a noise of awe as Astarion swirled around trying to get closer to the bowl, but there wasn’t enough time. He quickly felt his body reassemble into the tiny broken form of the bat.

He tried catching himself with his wings, but squealed in pain when his ribs protested. Three, at least? A fourth was likely.

Before he could really fall, Korilla caught him with both hands and dumped him into the bowl, where he was completely immersed in the healing potion.

The liquid was thick and dark, blinding him, but it worked fast. There was an eerie blue glow all around his flailing form, then Astarion felt his bones crack back into position. It itched more than anything, so the worst was the shock of it, really. The sharp cracking noise, the way his tiny chest popped back to the way it had been before he’d made the mistake of cussing Raphael out… in bat.

The glow died down, leaving Astarion bobbing around in the thick red liquid, and stinking of the herbs used to brew it.

„Finished? Come here.“ Gingerly, the dwarf fished him back out of the bowl and dabbed him down with a towel (Oh, the indignity). „You’re gonna need a bath, you’re all pink now.“

Of course he was.

Astarion rubbed his nose with his wing and hopped off Korilla’s hand, relieved that she let him. He got to break the short fall with his wings a little, then climbed onto the bed with his small but sharp claws.

„I can draw you a bath“, Korilla offered. „You probably don’t want to stay like this for longer, yes?“

Astarion nodded.

„You can talk, you know. I can understand animals, for a time now“, she told him. „You feeling better?“

„Being pink and the size of your toe? Just delightful, darling“, he shot back.

Korilla grinned. „There’s the Astarion I like. Imma get some water in this. Need anything else?“

Blinking up at her in bafflement, Astarion cocked his head, putting two and two together. „Ah, Raphael told you to make me comfortable, did he?“

„Nope. I just don’t got anything better to do“, she replied easily. „Can’t leave you all pink like that.“

Astarion tried sitting up (it seemed rude to just lay around on his belly), but he couldn’t quite manage it. His… everything was in the way. His body just wasn’t made for sitting. So, instead, Astarion tried leaning back against a pillow to face the dwarf in a more upright position, but ended up overbalancing and landing flat on his back.

„Need a hand?“, Korilla asked as she picked up the bowl, obviously trying very hard to keep her voice level. She only partially succeeded.

„Don’t you dare!“, Astarion hissed, struggling back on his belly. „This is humiliating enough as it is.“

„Nothing wrong with asking for help.“

Astarion scoffed, strongly disagreeing.

Korilla magicked the potion from the bowl and muttered an incantation, refilling it with water a moment later. Then she heated the new contents with fire magic.
Afterwards, she spread a towel on the table and put a brush and a bar of soap next to it.

„I assume you don’t want help getting this off?“

„You assume correctly, darling“, Astarion confirmed. He dragged himself across the bed towards the desk and tried estimating the distance between the sheets and the table.

Korilla crossed her hands behind her back and raised an eyebrow.

When she opened her mouth, Astarion snapped. „No, I don’t need a hand!“ Again, he peeked down. „Would you turn around, dear?“

„No way!“, she giggled. „I have to see this.“

Astarion hissed, feeling the fuzz on his back bristle.

„This‘d be so scary if you weren’t pink and, what did you say before? The size of my toe.“

Astarion narrowed his eyes at her, but didn‘t dignify her with a response.

Instead, he leapt from the bed and flapped his wings. By the gods, it was easy! He swooped up in a bobbing curve, then promptly nosedived into the side of the bowl. At least the towel was soft enough.

Korilla snorted a laugh and came hurrying to the desk. „Gosh, I‘m sorry! Are you okay?“

„I‘m fine!“, snapped Astarion. „Leave me alone.“ He batted her hand away when she reached for him. „See, this exactly why I asked you to turn around.“

„I won’t tell anyone“, she promised as she watched him clamber into the bowl. „Temperature alright?“

Astarion begrudgingly got comfortable. The water was perfect. „It’s fine.“

„Good. Imma leave you, then. Try not to drown yourself.“ She winked at him, then teleported from the room.

Sighing, Astarion eyed the piece of soap and the brush. Both were bigger than him. He had no hope of hefting either one of them into the bowl, so he had to climb back out and lather his entire body by literally wallowing on the bar of soap.

It actually felt… kind of amazing. The foam bubbles showed the first of the pink washing from his… ugh… fur.

Blinking the soap from his tiny eyes, he eyed the brush. It was going to feel absolutely amazing to luxuriate on the bristles and roll around on them.

Astarion practically leapt from the soap to the brush and writhed to work the soap in, purring with contentment.

Maybe being a bat wasn’t that horrible. Although he‘d rather be caught dead than being seen like this by anyone.

And he wasn’t disturbed, this time, as he washed the remnants of the potion off, taking his time with two redos until he was happy with the pearly white of his fur, and felt cleaner than he had in ages.

Astarion rolled himself dry on the towel Korilla had prepared, then made a daring attempt of flying back to the bed (succeeding about halfway, when he tumbled over as he landed), then buried himself in the sheets and marvelled at how much space he had being this tiny.

The bed was big enough as it was, as it could fit a small family, but for a bat, the bed might as well be an entire house.

Astarion allowed himself to luxuriate in the silken sheets, his tiny form sprawled out to take up a good eight inches.
Could he trance and rest as a bat? He was about to find out.

Astarion started awake, and he wasn’t a bat anymore.

Still feeling a bit shaky, Astarion got up from the floor and looked around in his room. He was alone. The door was still locked as he had left it.

Astarion took a moment to sit in silence and recall everything that had happened the day prior.

Although he had ended up having a rather nice bath, Astarion felt a bit rattled remembering how easily the devil had broken his bones before.

He was sure Raphael could do so no matter which form Astarion took, but something about being this fragile and vulnerable in the devil’s grip, trusting him (albeit begrudgingly) not to harm him, only to be crushed, had upset him more than he cared to admit. Going off at the devil wouldn’t fix anything, but only make everything worse. Astarion really didn‘t want to be whipped after all.

And he still hadn’t given Raphael the apology he had demanded.

And if he went to Raphael first, and of his own accord, Astarion got to keep some barebones sense of control over his unfortunate situation.

And, somewhere, buried very deep inside him, beneath piles of suffocating fear and a glacier of shock about what had happened, there was a simmering anger Astarion couldn’t quite get over.

Raphael had groped him, played with him, hurt and burned him just for fun, sent him on dangerous missions all without telling him why he was being sent out at all, fucked him and left him after he‘d been done. He asked him to show his fangs, to bite, then punished him for offering a bit of cheek.

And in all of this, he hardly gave Astarion any explanation as to what he was planning, exactly.

It wasn’t fair.
Astarion ought to walk up to him and finally demand answers. After all, what could Raphael really do to him now, after he had crushed him in his hand?

So, Astarion sat at his desk and got a sheet of parchment ready, writing down any questions that had accumulated over these last few weeks.

He’d confront Raphael and demand some answers, and be prepared for anything the devil threw his way.

Torture, threats… Astarion would receive it all anyway. Might as well be bold.
Raphael at least sometimes seemed to like that.

Astarion worked like maybe he had centuries ago, as a magistrate, if indeed he had once been one.

First, he took notes, then he sorted through them and worked on formulating the questions better, to be more precise, until he felt confident enough to present them to the devil.

He got dressed, taking extra care to pick something nice. The more he flaunted his beauty to the devil, the more likely he was to get what he wanted.

Astarion took a deep breath and put on his mask of haughty indifference, then unlocked the door and left.

As he walked down the hallway, he checked the time on his ring. It was the middle of the night. Fuck. Maybe he should have checked first. Then again, he didn’t care if he was about to walk in on the devil sleeping.

What was Raphael going to do? Crush him? Hah!

The door wasn’t locked. Astarion saw it from afar, and heard whispers as he got closer.

„Please, Master? Pretty please! I am so hungry. I‘m practically starving…“

„For the last time, Haarlep, not now! I said I‘m not in the mood.“ That was Raphael, grousing in obvious discontent. „Go to the dungeons if you can’t handle it.“

„I don’t want any more dread, ugh!“, Haarlep haughtily complained. „You know it’s bad for my complexion.“

„We both know what you eat has no bearing on what you look like. Let me rest, you cursed vixen.“

Haarlep was quiet for a moment. „Can I see Astarion, then? He offered to feed me, earlier.“

„No he didn‘t“, came the reply. „Damn liar.“

„You’re just gonna let me go hungry, again? Master!“

„For the last time: Go to the dungeons and have your fill!“ Raphael shouted. „And let me sleep.“

A body thudded to the floor, probably Haarlep being shoved off the bed.

Before Astarion knew it, the incubus‘ naked feet quickly came pitter-pattering towards him.

Haarlep quietly slipped from the room just a moment later, but stopped short when they saw him stand there.

„What…?“ They blinked, looking him up and down. „What the hells?“, they whispered. „What are you doing here?“

„I have to talk to Raphael.“ Astarion didn‘t whisper.
There was no need.
He‘d been intending on waking the devil, if need be.

Haarlep just shook their head. „No, you don’t! Trust me, he‘s in a strange mood today.“

„How convenient“, Astarion scoffed. „So am
I.“

„Don’t!“, Haarlep whispered urgently. They made a grab for Astarion‘s arm.

Astarion twisted free. „Don’t touch me! I mean it!“

Haarlep shied away from his cold stare. „Fine. Just… be careful, I guess? I like you much better without that terror that clings to you most of the time.“

After they retreated, Astarion took a deep grounding breath and entered the room, where Raphael was half sitting in the bed, his eyes immediately catching him as he stepped inside. The blanket was pooling around his waist.

The devil groaned. „And here I thought for once you’d listen and do what’s best for you. Get out.“

Astarion shook his head. „We need to have a talk.“

„Do we now?“

„Yes. I have questions“, Astarion said. He was surprised his voice was as level as it was.

„Astarion“, Raphael growled, his hands beginning to glow a subtle red. „I won’t give you another warning.“

Astarion was proud he only shivered a little. He came closer. „You‘ll have to punish me, then. I‘m not leaving before I haven’t gotten answers.“

Slowly, the devil got out of bed. He was naked, which wasn’t something Astarion hadn’t seen before, but he found it incredibly distracting.

For hells‘ sake, he had a plan! He had notes, and questions to ask!

Raphael prowled towards him, tail swishing from side to side, wings flexing.

It took everything in Astarion not to back away, but he stood his ground.

The devil didn’t stop in front of him, but grasped his arms and walked him back towards the wall almost gently.

His hands were hot enough to hurt even through the fabric of his shirt, but Astarion held the devil’s scorching gaze.

„What do you actually want?“, Astarion asked. „Master“, he added after some consideration. „One moment you force me to kneel and grovel, and the next you ask to see my fangs.“ He showed them, now. „So, what do you want? Because I‘m sick of this game you’re playing. At least explain the rules to me.“

„What if I don’t want to?“

„Well, then we‘re going to have nothing but misunderstandings like earlier today“, Astarion lilted, trying not to react to the claws slowly running up his arms to his shoulders. They were unmistakably inching towards his throat.

Raphael paused. Something flickered in his gaze, and Astarion was sure he must be mistaken… or could it have been regret?

„That wasn’t supposed to happen“, said the devil softly, stopping the exploration of Astarion’s body. „I sent Korilla to have you healed.“

„You could have done it yourself“, Astarion replied.

Raphael growled, tightening his grip again. „Are you complaining, again? Be grateful I didn‘t drag you to the dungeons.“

„For what?“, Astarion snapped. „For one little insult I said after you tossed me?“ He bared his fangs at the devil, and those black and yellow eyes immediately shot to his mouth. „I am sorry! There, is that what you wanted to hear?“

Raphael only stared.

„Or did you just realize you still didn‘t get what you want, even with me apologizing?“

„Maybe.“

„So, what DO you want?“, Astarion shouted. „Just fucking tell me, and I‘ll try…“

„Try, will you?“

„Yes“, Astarion said. „That‘s all I can do until you stop your damn games!“

„You’re too fun to play with“, replied Raphael, as if that was a normal thing to say. His claws travelled up to Astarion’s neck. „You have a talent for driving me mad.“

Astarion knew he was supposed to be scared. The devil could eviscerate him in a heartbeat, disintegrate him completely if the fancy struck him.

But he was more angry than afraid.

He raised his head, exposing his throat and glaring at Raphael. „Oh, I‘m glad you’re having fun playing with me. But since you like my bite, let me tell you we will speak about your plans with me, all of them!“

Raphael’s mouth twitched. „Will we now?“

„Yes, we will! I’m not leaving until I get answers! And please“, he stressed the word, fangs still at full display (they were extended. When had that happened?). „figure out whether you want to kill me, or fuck me.“

Raphael froze in his soft threat display, claws on Astarion’s exposed throat, talons caressing the skin and exploring the indents of his old bite scar with the pads of his fingers.

The devil seemed startled as he met Astarion’s hard gaze. He opened his mouth as if to reply, then closed it again, his eyes raking down his body.

When the devil moved again, he was fast as a snake, too quick for Astarion to react.
Astarion only got out a startled gasp, before Raphael swept him off his feet.

Fuck. It seemed he had miscalculated. Squeezing his eyes shut, Astarion prepared for the inevitable sting and slash of claws, or a displacement into the dungeons. He’d be chained to a wall until Raphael had need of him again… he’d be whipped raw, he’d end up…

But instead of a cell, he found himself in Raphael’s arms, and half lifted, half dragged to the bed.
Before they even hit the sheets, Raphael had ripped the beautiful outfit from his body.

Astarion opened his mouth to protest, when the devil captured his mouth in a ravenous kiss.

Gods, he was sloppy. Raphael was anything but a good kisser, but still, Astarion found himself responding to the way his tongue fought with his.

He clung to the devil, and only now realized how hard he was. How long had this been going on during their conversation?

Raphael had him naked within seconds and appreciatively ran a hand over the side of his body, shoulder to calf.

Astarion shuddered and arched into the devil, nipping at Raphael’s bottom lip.

This was… better than the dungeons for sure. Not quite what Astarion had come here for, but the way Raphael responded to him made Astarion downright crave the devil.

They didn‘t speak, but there was a good amount of snarling and biting, until Raphael pried his legs apart (not that Astarion was really fighting him on this anymore), and lowered himself over Astarion, kissing and licking along his jaw and throat.

Astarion tensed when his strong teeth scraped over his old bite scars, the first mark Cazador had ever left on him.
He pulled Raphael’s horn, trying to get him off the sensitive spot, but the devil growled and bit down harder, covering the scar with his mouth, claiming it.

Astarion writhed beneath the much larger fiend, until Raphael left off him, having bitten him bloody.

„I‘m not looking at this while I take you“, he snarled against his lips. „You’re mine.“ He kissed him again so that Astarion could taste his own stale blood on the devil’s lips.

He had trouble keeping up with the him as he started grinding against him. His length eagerly rubbed against Astarion.

The devil was extremely quick and thorough exploring his body. His hands were everywhere at once, stroking, squeezing, holding. His claws scraping, pinching, pricking, carding through his hair, leaving trails of tingling heat on his flesh. His tail eagerly wrapping around Astarion’s ankle, pulling and writhing against his skin like an overly excited snake.

He moaned into Raphael’s mouth, bucking against him impatiently. The devil snuck a hot hand between his legs, playing with him, and pressing closer as Astarion whimpered in response.

His free hand kneaded the tip of his ear, making him wail with lust. Almost unconsciously he pulled Raphael closer, rolling his hips in accord with the devil‘s surprisingly skilled hand.

Raphael probed Astarion’s entrance and worked a finger in, then quickly added a second.

The stretch was nothing short of delicious, especially when Raphael muttered a spell that slicked his fingers, lessening the sting significantly.

Astarion arched off the bed towards the devil, seizing both of his horns to plunder his mouth in turn.

Raphael growled appreciatively, pushing his legs further apart with his knees. A third finger joined the first two, and Astarion threw his head back and gasped out a moan.

It seemed the devil had had enough foreplay. He lined himself up, trembling with impatience, and Astarion silently urged him on.

Raphael began thrusting immediately, giving Astarion no time to adjust.

Hissing with pain, he bit the devil in response, sinking his fangs deep into the junction between Raphael’s shoulder and neck. Which… of course, thanks to the fiend’s scorching blood, didn‘t exactly help with the pain, but Astarion still latched on and fed (really, it was the least Raphael could do after starting to rabbit into him like some animal).

The devil groaned in obvious pleasure, but didn‘t let up. His hips snapped forward again and again, knocking the air out of Astarion, hitting him just at the right angle.

Astarion babbled something against Raphael’s neck, scalding blood running down his chin and cheeks. It was good, the heat of it grounding him in the here and now.

It hurt, but hells if there wasn’t pleasure. Actual pleasure, and he wasn’t even blood-frenzied like last time they had coupled. This was real. Terrifying, but real.
Whatever else was happening, Astarion was glad to have something real, after all.

Raphael mouthed the side of his face and his ear, making Astarion shiver and shake. He was painfully close to his climax, and clutching at the devil in hopes he would finish the damn job this time. He released Raphael and tried touching himself, eager to leap off the edge with the devil.

But the damn fiend snatched his wrists and pinned them to the bed, his pace becoming irregular, quicker, his breathing harder. He was moaning now, the surprisingly soft sound making Astarion ache.

He locked his ankles around Raphael’s hips,
holding himself in such a way that Raphael’s lower belly provided him with the friction he needed.

Astarion came with a shout of pleasure-pain, then the devil violently snapped his hips once, twice more, spilling inside him with a deep groan.

The intensity of his climax was so strong his vision went black for a second, and he felt himself twitch and quiver beneath the devil.

He held Astarion tight enough to draw blood, but the gashes healed as fast as they had been inflicted.

As Astarion struggled to catch his breath, Raphael went slack and slumped on top of him, nuzzled against his bloody neck and cheek. It was a surprisingly familiar gesture, and it made Astarion squirm a bit.

There was no way a devil should fuck him like that and then cuddle up to him like a lovesick puppy. It didn‘t seem normal, not that Astarion really minded.
Again, it was warm at least.

And he supposed it wasn’t that bad being held like this, instead of being left and discarded like a used tool, left alone with the shame and pain his existence wrought.

Right now, Astarion’s mind felt blissfully empty. Another rather novel thing. How marvellous and wonderful to have peace of mind, even if just for a few fleeting moments.

It came to him, then, that he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually climaxed. The work he had done for Cazador hadn’t required his pleasure at all, only the functionality of his body.

He had forgotten how good sex could actually feel.

Astarion disentangled his fingers from Raphael’s and carded them through the devil’s hair, earning himself a sleepy purr, which resonated in Astarion’s chest.

It was a few dozen seconds before the devil raised his head and looked him in the eye, then he withdrew and surprised Astarion by kissing his way down his body, softly biting at his neck, nipples, and ribs, before tasting the mess Astarion had made on his belly.

Astarion could only watch in open wonder as the devil licked him clean, making him shiver pleasantly.

No-one had ever done this to him.

Astarion couldn’t count the times he’d been made to do it, cleaning the messes others had left. Having his face smushed into soiled sheets or grimy floors, the foul release of foul people who had hurt him bitter on his tongue. Being forced to pretend he liked it, giving thanks for the opportunity to use his tongue for something better than speaking.

Astarion sobbed and covered his face with both hands. He felt Raphael stop and crawl back over him, taking his hands and moving them so he could see his tears.

Then the devil kissed him again, more slowly this time.

Astarion could taste himself on Raphael’s tongue, and briefly panicked as the memories of many painful and humiliating nights crashed over him.
What saved him from a plunge into the half dead semi-aware state of mind that had kept him alive and sane throughout his terrible servitude under Cazador, were Raphael’s warm hands.

It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.
Cazador was cold. The devil was warm.
Cazador had killed him. The devil would save him.
Cazador had belittled and used him. Raphael had empowered him, challenged him.

It wasn’t the same.
How could it be, when Raphael was this warm? When he held Astarion like this, kissed him, gave him pleasure, fed him, and offered him power.

Raphael had hurt him, more than once. He was cruel. Perhaps powerful people just had to be. Perhaps power could only be gained by the cruel. It only made sense. Astarion had never met any goodhearted person wielding any significant amount of power.

„You’re shaking“, said Raphael. „You were thinking about him, weren’t you? Your old master?“

Astarion nodded. He wasn’t supposed to lie.

„And are you thinking about him now?“ Raphael ground his strong hot body into his.

Astarion shook his head.

„Good.“ He held Astarion’s face with both hands, face only inches from his. Astarion smelled his blood and spend on the devil’s breath, another mix he strongly associated with his unfortunate long years under Cazador’s thumb. But the devil held him. His hands, his heat was enough to keep him from drowning. „You‘ll forget him when we‘ve killed him. We‘ll erase every hold he has on you. You can be mine, completely.“

„Yes“, Astarion said, mostly just to remind himself he was still here, still had a voice.

„Good pet.“ The devil rolled off him and sighed in contentment. „Rest, now.“

Astarion sat up and looked over to him. Suddenly he remembered what he had even come here for. It decidedly hadn’t been sex. „I… wait… where‘s my shirt?“

„You don’t need a shirt“, muttered Raphael and pulled him over until Astarion lost his balance and landed over the devil’s chest. The fiend held him there in a tight embrace.

„But… not the shirt, but there’s…“

„Tomorrow.“

„But…!“

„Tomorrow, pet.“ The second arm wrapped around his middle, then a tail tightly snaked around his leg, and Astarion was pulled flush against Raphael’s body, then promptly covered with the silk blanket.

Astarion could barely breathe with his face smushed into the devil’s chest. „I‘d rather wash before…“

Raphael snapped his fingers, and the stickiness between Astarion’s legs vanished.

Astonished, Astarion quieted down and settled a bit in Raphael’s embrace.

The devil muttered: „Anything else?““

Astarion shook his head.

„Excellent.“

And with that, the devil manhandled Astarion on his side and proceeded to pull him close to his chest like a child would hold a blanket.

Snuggled by a devil. Astarion could think of worse, but it was outrageous. But not as outrageous as being crushed as a bat. They’d talk about that, later.

Astarion dreamed of being a bat, only a lot more competent than he had been thus far. He was flying rather beautifully, using a heightened sense of hearing in the pitch black of the night.

He dreamed of being kept and tended to, of luxury and entertainment, and all the blood he could drink. Soft gentle hands petting and holding him, not restraining or hurting, but caressing and supporting in a way he actually liked.

The hands quickly turned hotter, until Astarion knew they had to belong to Raphael, who turned him back into his elven self and openly admired his pale naked form. Astarion watched in rapt attention as the devil went to his knees before him and began kissing the sensitive spots where his hip bones were visible beneath the pale skin. Astarion‘s fingers twitched trying to resist grasping the devil’s horns and pulling him closer, controlling where his mouth went…

Astarion woke up, and alarmingly found himself cuddled by two devils, and both of them looked like Raphael.

Evidently, Haarlep had snuck back in the room and made themselves comfortable. Their chin rested on Astarion’s head, their breath tousling his curls.

All Astarion really saw of them was their throat, and he was tempted to bite and have a taste. The incubus smelled delectable, but after suffering the effects of drinking their blood before, Astarion knew better than to risk it. But hells did the incubus smell ever so good. It must have been their arousing scent that had made Astarion‘s dreams take that lustful turn. Huh.

Raphael, meanwhile still held him close to his chest, his face resting against the back of Astarion’s neck.

Astarion sighed and tried to wriggle free (he had gotten hot squeezed between the two devils), but Haarlep shifted, lowering their head to rub their nose against his.

„Good morning, sweetling“, they whispered.

Astarion flinched, but with Raphael directly at his back, he could hardly move.

„Ah, ah. Shhhh…“ The incubus gently stroked Astarion‘s cheek. „Don’t want to wake the master.“

„I thought Raphael kicked you out yesterday?“, Astarion whispered.

„Oh, he did, yes. But I couldn’t resist. You two were too delicious to pass up on.“

Somehow knowing Haarlep had watched them made Astarion blush rather furiously, something the incubus immediately commented on with a chuckle.

„I certainly don’t judge. If anything it’s good you finally got to relax a bit. It was about time, really.“

„Can you let me get up, Haarlep, fucking please?“

„Aw, why get up now? I rather think you’re in the best position in the whole house, don’t you? Relaaax, enjoy!“

„Do you have any idea how abnormally hot you both are? I‘m burning up!“, Astarion hissed.

„I believe you’ll be just fine“, Haarlep whispered and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. „So… what was he like, for you?“

Sputtering, Astarion replied: „I‘m not…! We aren’t discussing this! He‘s right there, for hells‘ sake!“

„He‘s out cold.“ Haarlep waved away. „Always is after a good fuck. So, tell me, come on!“

„I‘m not a…! Ugh, I‘m just going to wake him, shall I?“

„No need“, Haarlap replied. „I got it.“ They rolled over him and on top of Raphael, who ended up on his back with Haarlep leaning in over him. „Good morning, master“, they purred, peppering the devil with messy wet kisses and love bites.

Raphael, half awake, grumbled and turned his head to escape the onslaught.
Astarion used his chance to escape his grip and promptly tumbled off the bed in his eagerness to get away.

Fuck, just having been this close to Haarlep for what might have been all night had aroused him almost to the point of pain. But he wasn’t here to get into bed with the devil (or devils, plural), he had literal pages of questions to confront Raphael with!

The sounds of kisses turning wetter made Astarion peek back to the fiends currently busy entwining themselves with each other. Raphael especially was moaning rather wantonly, which made Astarion feel all sorts of strange things like… want and… desire…
Damn incubus and their damn sex scent!

Haarlep playfully curled their tail as they caught his gaze. „Care to join us?“

„No?“ Astarion swallowed, cleared his throat. „I mean, um… no. No.“

„If you want, you can just watch.“

„No?“, Astarion cursed himself. Why did it sound like he was asking a question?

Haarlep chuckled. „Suit yourself, sweetling.“ To Astarion’s surprise, they flipped Raphael over, and he went, docile as a kitten, as the incubus pushed his face into the pillows. He bowed over their master and whispered in his ear: „Please, can I tell him?“

„You wouldn’t dare…!“, Raphael replied, his voice muffled by the cushions.
 Astarion watched, fascinated and dumbfounded, because he knew the devil let his slave handle him like this.

Surely Raphael could overpower the incubus within a heartbeat, or stop them with just a word, but he didn‘t. So… Raphael liked being handled like this? Well, that was intriguing, only Astarion didn’t quite know what to do with this knowledge.

Haarlep pressed him back down, grinning at Astarion. „As long as I wear our master’s form, he feels everything I feel.“

Astarion gaped trying to grasp the meaning of what the incubus had just revealed.

Raphael fought his way out of Haarlep‘s grip. „I told you no, you wretched whore!“

„Such strong language…“, Haarlep purred, less intimidated than Astarion had expected. They ran their hands down their body, teasing themselves with skilled fingers.

Raphael hissed, shivering in response. Then he snorted and held up a hand, primed to snap his fingers. „I‘ll summon you, Astarion.“

Then Astarion was back in his room on the bed, alone, but feeling warmer than any 200 years old vampire had any right to.

Surprisingly, he felt a bit disappointed that he hadn’t even gotten to watch.
Damn incubus and their scent.

Oh well, if Raphael was going to summon him, Astarion had better get dressed. Because he had no intentions of ending up pinned on the bed with the devil between his thighs again, he went for a simple outfit, a nice black doublet.

He needed to wait for a good while to be able to put the trousers on, unwilling to take himself in hand to adress the problem.

Frustrated, he sat on the bed and tried not to think of what Haarlep and Raphael might be doing, and how they might be doing it.

No, he had no interest.

Of course not.

That would be silly.

He should be thinking about what to ask Raphael, later. His clothes with his notes were still in the boudoir, with the fiends. Of course, he might just grab it when he was summoned back, after Haarlep was done with the devil.

Was the incubus holding him down face first, right now, having their way with him? What would it be like, being fucked by a creature that shared its sensations with you? You‘d feel… everything at once. The sensation of receiving and giving, am the same time.

Just thinking of Raphael submitting himself to Haarlep‘s capable hands made Astarion feel all tingly.

Astarion stopped imagining the two together when he noticed his trousers getting tight. „Oh for hells‘ sake!“, he cursed. „You‘re just going to be a problem, aren’t you? Fine, distraction coming right up.“

He waddled over to the shelf (the tightness in his trousers didn‘t help) and picked one of the few books that weren’t in infernal, flipping it open and reading the first poem he found out loud.

„And her hair: like gold, like the sun,
a dream of beauty and grace and fun.
And she finds him again, a fiery embrace,
her form on his, all beauty and grace.“

Astarion closed the book. „Ugh this is dreadful. Who the hells wrote this? Volo? Volo who? Unbelievable how this drivel got published.“

He selected another book, not purely poetry, but prose peppered with rhymes.
This one wasn’t good either, but as least the rhymes and choice of words didn‘t make Astarion want to tear his own eyes out.

At least it wasn’t about some princess or warrior queen braving battles and monsters just to be with their lovers. Gods he hated overly romantic drivel like this. It seemed Raphael liked it a lot, judging by how many books like it he had.

Distracting himself with the rather predictable narrative, Astarion‘s unexpected (and inconvenient) desire quickly died down, and he could think clearly again.

Yes, he was prepared to confront Raphael. His notes were safe in the pocket of his shirt, which was in the boudoir. He was sure he could make do, even without the notes.

It wasn’t long until Raphael summoned him, and Astarion abruptly found himself in the devil’s office.

He had bathed and dressed himself rather nicely, like he was planning on going out. If anyone had told Astarion this devil had allowed an incubus to dominate him just minutes ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. If he hadn’t seen it.

The devil examined him with pursed lips. „You should wear something nicer“, he concluded. „I suggest the white and gold doublet.“

Astarion bristled. He wasn’t about to be lectured on his choice clothing. „Why, so you can just tear it off me? I think not, dear.“

The devil chuckled and opened a drawer to produce a gold amulet. „It would go better with this.“

Frowning, Astarion looked closer. A jolt of excitement flashed through him as he spotted a faded engraving of a sun on the ancient gold. „This…“

„It’s exactly what you think it is. Come, let me put it on you.“

Astarion hesitated. „Is this a trick?“

Raphael sighed and came closer, positioning himself behind him. „No. I thought it appropriate to grant you some reprieve after what happened before. So, we’re going out. And since I‘m not keen on dining with a pile of ash and bone dust, I‘m lending you this. Just for today.“ He placed the amulet on the center of Astarion’s chest and the closed the clasp around his neck.

„Are you… trying to apologise?“, Astarion asked, turning around to the fiend. „Really?“

„If you want to see it that way.“ Raphael avoided his gaze and picked up a pouch from his desk. „You said you had questions. Who says you can’t ask them over dinner in the sunlight?“

The thought excited Astarion too much to remember telling Raphael he wasn’t going to eat dinner. He tightly clasped the amulet and ran his thumb over the engraving. He was going to see the sun again. „Can I get changed before we go, then? Wouldn’t want to mismatch with you.“

Raphael smiled. „Meet me in an hour, and don’t be late.“

Chapter Text

Astarion practically skipped out of the room and down the hallway. He was so keen on getting changed and seeing the sun again he even forgot to tease the librarian about it.

He didn‘t even glimpse at the other outfits he had, choosing instead the one with the gold elements one the devil had suggested, then hurried back to the office. No time to be picky, or prickly.

Raphael waited for him and offered his arm. „You look quite fetching, pet. As I expected. Shall we, then?“

Astarion blushed a bit, but came closer and accepted the devil’s arm. „So, where are we going?“

„Baldur’s Gate.“ Raphael’s form shimmered and shifted, then was briefly engulfed by hellfire (it tickled on Astarion’s skin), then he had slipped into his human form.

Astarion stared. The last time he had seen the dark haired handsome human version of the devil had been when he had come to save him from Wyll.

„Come now. We need to keep up appearances.“ Raphael smiled and made a sweeping gesture. „Off we go, then.“

With a snap of his fingers, he displaced them both from Avernus and into Faerun.

They appeared on a sunlit roof terrace of the elfsong, as Astarion quickly found out after looking around a bit.

Astarion turned, tilting his face towards the sun, and smiled at the comforting warmth.

He had come to enjoy Raphael’s company, partially because of his own heat, but the sun was different. It warmed Astarion all the way through to his very soul.

„You’re beautiful like this“, Raphael commented. „I should parade you around in the sunlight more often.“

„I‘m always beautiful, darling“, Astarion shot back, almost automatically. „But by all means, do parade me around in the sunlight whenever you want.“ He turned around to the devil, who wasn’t looking half-bad himself in his human guise.

Raphael smiled. „Don’t tempt me, pet.“

Incredulous, Astarion chuckled.
What in the hells was happening? Were they flirting? Was this… fun?

„So.“ Astarion cleared his throat. „Dinner, is it? I don’t see a table.“

„They‘ll set one for us.“ Raphael opened the door with a gesture of his hands. „Stay here, I‘ll let them know.“

He ducked into the bustling tavern and left Astarion alone on the balcony overlooking the city. Even after the last time, there was much to admire here. The colours stunned him into unbridled awe, and he leaned on the banister and absorbed as much of the image as he could.

One stopped noticing the smell of smoke and brimstone that was prevalent in the hells after a while. The air up here… it was fresh and clean, far removed from the odour of unwashed drunkards he was used to in the taverns.

Or the stench of death that clung to the palace looming far too close for comfort.

Astarion pointedly looked elsewhere, but now it was even more noticeable, always in his periphery, like a black splinter stuck in his eye. He turned his back to it, but that felt worse.

The reminder of Cazador was right there, a blatant threat he just had to keep his eyes on. Even here, even in sunlight.

Astarion would never be rid of this ominous shadow, would he?

Raphael soon returned, straightening his cuffs. „They‘ll take just a minute.“ He followed Astarion‘s gaze to the palace. „Thinking about your old home, pet?“

„Well…“ Astarion shuddered, rubbing his upper arms to warm himself. „Not fondly, if that‘s what you’re getting at.“

After a moment of silence, the devil drew closer. „You’re shaking“, he whispered. And then, he closed his arms around Astarion in a soothing embrace.

Astarion froze, wanting to protest and squirm free, but the next moment he found himself perplexed by the very idea of it. Raphael was wonderfully warm, and his touch helped Astarion drown his immediate discomfort that had come with seeing the palace again.

He sighed and hesitantly returned the embrace, an acknowledgment and reciprocation.

Raphael hummed. His warm hands patted his back, then he turned them both around to see a whole pack of bustling servants and two barmaids hurrying onto the roof terrace, quickly setting up a table and chairs for them.

A butler (young, pretty, naive-looking… a perfect mark were Astarion on the hunt) poured them both some wine and then discreetly retreated.

Raphael pulled the chair back for him. „If you please.“

No-one had ever treated Astarion this way. He suspected a trap, similar to how Haarlep had been instructed to pamper him before Raphael had altered his scar just the other day.

Astarion narrowed his eyes at the devil, but sat down anyway. „So, what new horrors can I expect after this? Judging by what happened the last time you made an effort to make me comfortable, it couldn’t possibly be good.“

Chuckling, Raphael sat down opposite him. „Can’t I indulge you after everything I‘ve put you through? Although, yes: There is more to come. We have a lot to do before our work is finished, pet.“

„Oh, well.“ Astarion took a glass of wine, sniffed it, then put it back on the table. „I do hope you‘ll find some time to answer my questions, before you send my out again.“

„That’s what we‘re here for“, replied the devil, taking a sip of his own wine. „Although… maybe we should order, first.“ He waved the butler closer. „What do you recommend?“

„We have fresh venison, with mushrooms and potatoes, and...“

„I‘ll have that“, Raphael said quickly, stopping the boy from listing any more items. „And for my friend, I think some steak, rare.“

The butler bowed smartly. „Of course, sir. Right away, sir.“

Astarion watched the boy leave, then turned to Raphael. „Steak, is it?“

„You‘ll need to order something“, Raphael replied. „The servant will hover, otherwise.“

„Fine, then.“ Astarion waved away. „Can we start now?“

„You tell me, little mouse.“ Raphael toasted him with his wine glass.

„Right, so… I… yes well…“ Astarion cleared his throat. „I want to know… the ritual Cazador had planned… did you know? When you first saved me.“

Raphael watched him like a hawk. „No. I had suspicions your old master was planning something. I admit I was curious about what business he had with the hells. I thought you might provide some insight.“ His claws were playing with a pen he must have gotten from his pocket. „I was correct, although I didn‘t expect you to be this involved in the ritual.“

„So, you… improvised?“

„I seized an opportunity“, the devil calmly corrected him.

Unsure whether he was feeling better about his new predicament with Raphael, Astarion nodded. „And, what comes next? I assume you needed a while to decipher enough of the markings on my back to figure out where to start, and what to change. If you’re going to send me out again, I want to know why.“

„Oh, is that all?“ Raphael chuckled.

„Yes. I won’t be just some pawn in your game, Master“, Astarion intoned, watching the devil grin at the word. „Unless that’s what I am to you.“

Raphael was silent for a moment. „You‘ve proven yourself to be more than that.“

Astarion looked at the fiend in human guise. He seemed earnest, but Astarion still wasn’t sure he believed him. Not without knowing the next thing about what he was planning.
„So, you’re planning to make me the… recipient of the power Cazador wants to secure. You mentioned he’s paying thousands of souls.“

„Yes.“ The devil slowly nodded.

„And… I assume these will go to you, if we manage to steal this ritual.“

Raphael narrowed his eyes, still nodding. „If everything goes to plan.“ He raised the glass to his lips, but stopped before drinking. „You don’t miss anything, do you?“

Astarion didn‘t mention he had made notes and, in fact, spent a whole night on preparing for this questioning. „And who would these souls go to, otherwise? I want to know who Cazador wanted to sell me to.“

Like flipping a page, Raphael’s gaze darkened. „No, you don’t.“

„Don’t tell me what I want…! I deserve to know…!“

„No, pet. You truly don’t.“ Raphael downed the rest of his wine. „There are devils so terrible, no mortal can behold them. I‘ve seen hellborn kin go insane just from looking at Him.“

Intimidated despite himself, Astarion muttered: „I‘m not mortal“, he groused.

„You’re a fledgling undead. That barely counts.“ He showed his teeth, although there were just blunt human ones. „Now, ask me something else.“

„Does this… mysterious mind-rendigly terrible devil“, Astarion was unable to keep the ridicule from his voice. „pose a threat to you? What happens if he finds out you’re stealing his grand prize?“

„He won’t“, Raphael growled darkly, his face contorting. „Now, I suggest you stop testing me. I might look human now, but rest assured: I‘m the same devil you‘d do well to call master. The one you‘re contracted to obey.“

„The one who likes seeing my bite“, Astarion added. He thought about also saying something about the how he knew the devil liked being dominated by his incubus, but decided not to provoke him further. „I already asked you to make up your mind. You can have a spawn who‘s terrified of you and scrambles to obey your every word in fears of punishment. Gods know I‘ve had plenty of practice being this spawn. Or, you ask for something more, with some bite. But then don’t punish me if you feel the fangs every once in a while. Master.“

Raphael took a slow breath, muscles tensing. „You test me.“

„Yes, well“, Astarion shrugged and leaned back in his chair. „Of course. But I think you actually like it, darling. You can always prove me wrong, of course.“

Something was simmering in the air around the devil, like he was burning up from within. Hellfire, just below the surface.

Astarion shuddered, remembering how his flesh had melted beneath the devil’s heat. But he remained as calm as he could, picking up his glass and taking a sip of wine. It tasted like vinegar.

The devil spoke, measured and slow: „I can see why your old master was so keen on breaking you. This spirit, your nerve… it’s begging to be broken, little mouse. You‘re lucky you’re more use to me with it.“

Astarion swirled the wine in the fine glass, watching the red liquid dance in the sunlight. Now this was something to write poetry about. What a wonderfully distracting thought after what Raphael had just said to him. „So, we‘re in agreement, then. Here’s my next question:“

Raphael barked a laugh. „Agreement, is it? You know what? I‘ll play along.“

Then the butler returned with the meals. He put the venison in front of Raphael, and a bloody steak in front of Astarion.

The devil began to eat as soon as the butler left, well-mannered, but somehow faster than Astarion was comfortable watching.
He finished the plate within a minute or so (during which Astarion could only stare in mild horror), then pulled Astarion’s plate over to him and dug into the steak as well (rude!), this time slower.

Since he wasn’t about to start eating again, Astarion didn‘t object.

He raised the glass to his lips again, but reconsidered. He really wasn’t in the mood for vinegar.

When Raphael plucked the glass from his hand, he gasped with indignity.

Undeterred, the devil emptied it in one go, then caught Astarion‘s gaze.

„Relax, pet“, Raphael said as he put down his cutlery. „I‘m not about to let you go hungry.“ Then he raised his wrist over one of the empty glasses and made a deep cut with hidden claws.

As the vessel filled with blood, Astarion felt his fangs slide out of their sheathes, primed to bite and feed. He tried hiding his hunger, this need, but evidently didn‘t succeed.

Raphael watched him, a knowing glint in his eyes. „I wanted to feed the butler to you, but he’s doing such a good job, don’t you think?“

Astarion couldn’t reply without showing how much he wanted the blood, so he crossed his arms and nodded.

Raphael chuckled as he topped off the glass and slid it over to Astarion. „Mute now, are you? I should do this more often.“

Astarion glared, swallowing (he might start drooling like some braindead ghoul otherwise) and trying not to breathe in the tantalising scent.

Now, the devil was laughing in earnest. „Come now! I‘m treating you, pet. I know you’re hungry. You haven’t fed today.“ He leaned over the table, fixing Astarion with an intense stare. „Show me those adorable fangs.“

Astarion bristled. Oh, fuck this everlasting thirst, and the very obvious reaction his body showed to Raphael’s temptation.

Content with himself, the devil returned to his meal (or Astarion‘s, technically), cutting into the steak with frevor. „If you just get over yourself and drink, I‘ll keep playing this game and answer your questions.“

Astarion decided to drop it, more out of annoyance with himself than anything else. „Except the ones you don’t want to answer, of course.“ He quickly took a sip of Raphael’s blood and had to consciously stop himself from moaning in appreciation. Why did the devil have to taste this good? It really wasn’t fair.

Raphael had caught the flash of his fangs and seemed pleased, for the moment. He was smiling again. „Obviously.“

Astarion sighed. His fangs weren’t going to sheathe themselves anytime soon, so he stopped bothering to hide them. Raphael always got what he wanted, so why fight it?
„Well, then I better choose a good one.“

Raphael paused, watching his mouth. „That’s better.“

„Oh? Then, how about this?“ Astarion leaned over the table and cocked his head back, making extremely sure his fangs were on full display for the devil. „What‘s next? Am I to retrieve some artifact for you? Kill someone? You couldn’t possibly keep me in suspense.“

„Next“, Raphael said, still watching him with obvious interest. „I’ll need to see the other sigils. The more, the better.“

„Oh, so… you really do need to go after my… siblings.“ Astarion lowered the glass. „I… is there any way you could keep me out of it?“

„If simply killing them was an option“, Raphael muttered. „But I did mention your old master has gone into hiding. So finding even his spawn has been challenging. The one we could get our hands on was exceptionally foolish.“

„Yousen, I assume. Gnome? Ugh, he’s always been a good-for-nothing little freak.“

Surprised, Raphael choked on a piece of steak. „You… I wasn’t aware you knew your… siblings this well.“

„Well… we‘ve had enough time to learn hating each other.“

„So you want to see them dead?“ Raphael stabbed a piece of meat with his fork.

Astarion hesitated, then took another sip of the devil’s blood. It was divine still, although as it cooled to a more tolerable temperature, Astarion found he was missing the sting of it on his tongue. „Not as much as you may think“, he replied eventually. „We had to inflict pain on each other, but… we also spent years, sometimes centuries, sharing our misery.“ Astarion downed the rest of the blood in one go. „But if they need to take the fall for me to rise, then so be it.“

Raphael smiled. „Excellent.“

Astarion licked the last of the blood from his lips. „And now, I want to know everything you know about the contract. And I want to know why you were in such a hurry to make the first adjustment.“

And just like that, Raphael wasn’t smiling anymore.

Astarion waited for him to speak, then finally sighed in annoyance. „You wanted my bite, you have it, Master.“

The devil clutched the edge of the table, invisible claws digging into the wood. „I asked for it, yes. But don’t think I won’t punish you if you offer too much of it.“

„So, no answer? Again?“

Raphael ground his teeth, then calmed with a visible effort. He took another moment before he spoke. „The one your soul is promised to… He is searching for you. You are the final piece, Astarion. Everything is in order for your master to ascend, and thousands of souls to go to Him. You have no idea how much I‘m risking just by keeping you.“

„Of course I don’t. Because you won’t bloody tell me anything!“ Astarion snapped his elongated fangs at the devil.

Raphael slammed his both fists on the table as he rose from his chair, baring his teeth at Astarion, his face an angry mask. He looked more his cambion self now, like his human form was subtly slipping.

Astarion shrank back by pure instinct, but then rose as well, matching the devil in both fury and height now.

They stared each other down for a few beats, then Astarion snapped: „So, am I to be crushed in your hand, again? Fucked raw, what? You still haven’t made up your mind.“

Raphael broke eye contact and ran a hand through his hair, looking out over the city, then back to Astarion. „I… I mustn’t lose control like that.“

Well, that was… disarming. Astarion had been readying himself for an argument or even a fight. But this…

„Are you trying to apologize, again?“, he growled.

„Not for the second part“, Raphael conceded with a smirk. „But for what I did to your bat form. I‘m your master, so I require your trust. In me. In my power. And in my self-control.“

„You really don’t have a lot of it, dear“, Astarion snarled. „Self-control.“

„And yet you keep testing me“, Raphael said. He came closer and tightly grasped Astarion by the collar. Slowly. Leaving Astarion enough time to back away or object.

Astarion didn‘t.

„Why?“, asked Raphael. „You’re supposed to be broken. Believe me, I was pleasantly surprised to learn such a delightful little menace was lurking in this… shell of a man I took from his predicament. But I cannot understand just where this nerve is coming from.“

„You already crushed me“, Astarion replied. „Already cut into me, you…“

Raphael chuckled. „Oh, you think I‘ve done my worst?“ He lowered his forehead against Astarion’s. „Aw, little mouse. You’ve never danced with a devil.“

Astarion shuddered. He should stop. Hells, why was he doing this?

Raphael immediately caught the sliver of fear flickering over his face, and his grip turned into a caress. Straightening the collar again, the devil said: „I am what I am. If we want to succeed in this grand theft, I need to hurt you. I will cut into your writhing form as much as I need to, and I will savour your screams. You will help me get what I need to keep doing it, until we are done. Until we both ascend.“

Astarion had begun to tremble. To say he was intimidated was an understatement. He was terrified. Hesitantly he licked his lips, his mouth dry despite the blood he had just had. „None of this was in the contract“, he finally said.

„Every bit of what I‘m doing is fully within the boundaries of our agreement“, said Raphael. „I can do what I want with you. You should be on your knees and thank me that I choose to make you into something more. To free you from your curse.“

„Don’t act like you won’t benefit“, Astarion whispered. His voice was thick with unshed tears. They didn‘t mind the fact that Astarion had no idea where they had even come from.

„I never said I wouldn’t. All of this is to our mutual benefit. Is it not fair?“ His invisible claws caressed the sides of Astarion’s neck. „Am I not saving you?“

Astarion felt like he had been struck by lightning.
If (and only if) Raphael spoke true, then he was risking his own neck for a chance to save and ascend Astarion. He had taken in a vampire spawn who just happened to be the key to complete this grand and terrible ritual.

He could have just handed him over right then and there. Sold him to this mysterious devil, or back to Cazador, but instead he had put himself in the line of fire. Scheming, and challenging a devil much greater than himself, all to keep Astarion, and make him stronger.

Of course Raphael would receive thousands of souls. He’d benefit greatly from keeping Astarion safe and making him the benefactor of Cazador’s ritual.

But still. Astarion just wouldn’t be here anymore if the devil hadn’t taken him. If Raphael hadn’t decided he had what it took to steal the ritual for the both of them.

Astarion never asked for this. He never wanted any part of this.

But it was either this, literally by Raphael’s mercy… or damnation by Cazador’s cruel hand. Cazador, who had taken his life from him and had made his existence a living nightmare.

It really wasn’t a choice. Raphael offered him the only way out.

He‘d take it.

„You…“ Astarion nodded. Hells, the devil was right. Astarion really had no right to argue or complain. He should be on his knees and thank him. „It’s more than I could have hoped for…“ he said. „I… thank you.“

He grasped Raphael’s hands and softly kissed them, holding the devil’s gaze (it went from pleased to bewildered to lustful), then he slowly went to his knees.

Raphael’s eyes widened when Astarion‘s intent dawned on him. He watched as Astarion reached up to work his trousers open, then gently took his hands and stopped him.

„How about we do this another time?“, he asked, pulling Astarion back up. „While I enjoy the sight of you kneeling for me, this… this is about me making it up to you. My loss of control with your bat form, specifically. I don’t need to apologize, not technically… but I‘d rather be sure of your obedience because you trust me. Not out of fear.“

„Fear too mundane for you?“, Astarion gave a low chuckle.

„You have no idea“, the fiend replied, turning back to the table. „Let’s finish our meal. If you have any more questions, I‘ll try answering them. But trust me, pet, when I say there are some things you’re better off not knowing about.“ He sat. „But this I tell you: Stealing this ritual for ourselves is incredibly high-risk. The less you know, the better. The less anyone knows, the better.“ He blinked, then gestured towards the free chair. „Come, sit.“

Astarion hesitated, unsure if he was pleased with Raphael’s explanation. Could he trust the devil? Maybe he just had to. He was at his mercy either way.

Astarion sat and watched Raphael tear into the last of the steak. „If you’re going to keep eating…“

„Oh.“ Raphael took his glass again, swallowed, then opened the fresh wound ln his wrist to refill it. „Last one, sweetling. We both know it’s too hot for you.“

Astarion accepted the glass and had a sip before the devil could stop him. It was hot, yes, but… surprisingly bearable. „Actually… it’s fine“, he muttered, surprised himself. „I think I‘m getting used to it.“

„You are?“ Raphael seemed genuinely surprised. „Fascinating.“

„It is?“ Astarion quickly grew uncomfortable under the devil’s scrutinising gaze. He very suddenly felt like a science project. He hoped it was not the kind that was about to be dissected.

„There might be a few causes“, the devil elaborated. „Your bond with me, for one. Then there’s the ritual. I did cauterise the new symbols with hellfire. Perhaps your body adapted to it. Most likely it’s a combination of both.“

„Hm.“ Astarion drank a bit more of the delicious blood, just to distract himself from his worry. He wasn’t keen on Raphael trying to find out how exactly he had become more resistant to heat. „Good, yes. Speaking of our… bond, as you call it… you put this mark on me. What does it look like?“

Raphael frowned. „You haven’t seen it yet? How…“

„I‘m a vampire spawn, darling. That comes with all the disadvantages and very few of the benefits.“

„You don’t have a reflection“, Raphael said as he realised his mistake.

„Sharp as ever“, Astarion commented before emptying the glass of scalding blood.

„Watch it“, Raphael replied, but grinned. „I could describe it to you…“

Astarion leaned back in his chair. „But you want to hear me ask you for it.“

„Nicely.“

Astarion sighed, but decided to pour all his charms into the simple request. He leaned forward and leaned on the table and fluttered his eyelashes, putting on an expression of vulnerable innocence and devotion. „Master Raphael, if you may please describe the mark you put on me? I shall be ever so grateful.“

The devil barked a laugh. „Oh, aren’t you just full of surprises. Fine, let me indulge you:“ He cleared his throat, then began to speak in a pleasant singsong:

„Around your neck, a rose entwines,

With thorn-kissed grace, in looping lines.

A collar inked in shadowed bloom,

A beauty laced with quiet doom.
Red petals blush in midnight hue,

While barbs beneath speak something true.“

Astarion blinked, dumbfounded. His cheeks felt hot, but at the same time he thought he should feel… indignant about how Raphael had spontaneously made up a poem about the brand he’d left Astarion with.

„Aw“, Raphael said, cocking his head. „Don’t like it?“

„I… no, I guess I…I just don’t know what to say.“

Raphael rolled his eyes. „I can put it in simple terms. It’s a rose collar. Thorns, but flowers too. Seven leaves.“ The devil’s eyes flicked from one feature to the other. „There’s one rose just below the bite scar, and another hiding behind your curls, just there at the back of your head.“

Astarion wrinkled his nose, suddenly having an urge to scratch his neck. „Terribly romantic, darling.“

„You think so? Why?“

„Oh, you know. Roses are for lovers.“

„Not exclusively.“

Astarion cocked his head, feigning disinterest. „If you say so.“

Raphael just looked at him for a few seconds, exes flicking from his neck to his mouth, then his eyes, and then back to his lips.
„So“, he eventually said. „Anything else you’d like to ask me? I feel rather indulgent right now.“

Astarion blinked and considered the question carefully. „We haven’t quite finished talking about what’s next, have we? You‘ll need to either get your hands on my siblings, or Cazador’s original contract with… whoever it is you don’t want to tell me about.“

„Correct.“

„So… I assume you’ve already searched the palace.“

„Korilla did“, Raphael replied. „And found nothing. Likely young Ravengard has ransacked the place rather thoroughly.“ He raised a placative hand even before Astarion really began to object to tussle with the monster hunter again. „Since he recognized you last time, I won’t send you to retrieve whatever he may have taken. The dagger was quite enough.“ He finished the steak. „No. It’s safer to steer clear of him. Your old master… might suspect something is afoot. I know he‘s been hiding ever since the palace has been raided, but now that two of his spawn have disappeared… he‘ll be exceedingly difficult to find. I‘ve heard hunters describe it as trying to catch smoke.“

„If…“ Astarion chimed in, interrupting the devil and earning himself a scalding look. „You said I was the final piece? But what about Yousen? He’s gone now, isn’t he?“

„Yes, but he’s dead. His soul should have gone to the hells already. It shouldn’t have any bearing on the ritual itself.“ Raphael scoffed. „His corpse will do, and I instructed Korilla to leave it behind.“

„Ah.“ Astarion swallowed. „Right. But why? Wouldn’t it be better to… collect everyone…?“

„Leave the planning to me, pet“, replied the devil. „Your master has everything in one place but you. We need him desperate to find you, but not feeling like his ritual is truly threatened.“ Raphael continued on: „He‘ll be careful not to lose any more of his spawn, but finding you… that would be his priority. As long as you’re away, he cannot ascend.“

Astarion, despite the devil’s blood warming his stomach, suddenly became ice cold. „No“, he said, before he could even grasp the gravity of what Raphael was about to say next. „No.“

He got up from his chair and blindly stumbled backwards, away from Raphael.

Too late he realized he was technically on a rooftop. His foot soon only found empty air, and he began to tumble backwards off the roof.

Faster than thought, Raphael teleported next to him and caught him with a hand at his back. Astarion reflexively clutched at the fiend and let him drag him back towards the table.

Seeing this, he tore free. „I‘m not sitting down after…!“ He calmed with a few steadying breaths. „I… ugh, gods, fine, thank you for saving me from stupidly running straight off the roof… but no.“

„No what, pet?“ Raphael’s mouth twitched.

„I won’t be used as bait“, Astarion said, shuddering. Saying it out loud made it worse. He shook out his arms, as if he could dislogde the very idea of it somehow.

„I don’t believe we have much of a choice“, the devil replied steadily. „If we had more time, we could afford to be careful about this. But we do not. There are forces looking for you that your mortal mind cannot comprehend.“

„No…“ Astarion shook his head. „No, no… fuck, I can’t do this. I can’t go back to him.“

„You won’t, pet. Calm down.“

„He sees me… he sees me anywhere even near him, he‘ll take me back!“

„Even if he did see you, which he won’t…“ Raphael came closer, slowly herding Astarion back towards the wall next to the door. „… as long as you are under my protection, he can’t get a hold of you. I can block his compulsion.“

Astarion bumped into the wall. He hadn’t even realized he had moved this far. „Don’t do this, please.“ There were tears running down his cheeks. „Please.“

Raphael followed the path his tears took with his very human brown eyes. „I so love hearing that word from you, little mouse“, he muttered. „Your tears are so very sweet.“ He leaned in closer, scenting him, again. „But either you put your trust in me and find your courage… or, I promise, you will end up sacrificed for your old master‘s gain. And I will be destroyed for trying to interfere with the ritual. There is no real choice here.“

Astarion’s mind was running in circles so fast his thoughts were tripping over one another. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

„Breathe, mouse“, Raphael reminded him gently.

Astarion hastily gulped down a lungful of air. Now the words came out, but they made little sense.

The devil indulged him by listening to him stammering nonsense for about a dozen seconds or so, then he snapped: „Stop.“

Astarion closed his mouth, then, finally, something came to him. „Haarlep!“, he yelled (loud enough for Raphael to flinch away from him). „Haarlep can… they can…“ Astarion made an aimless gesture with both hands. „Transform. They can… I know they can.“

Raphael looked like he might strike him. „Haarlep doesn’t have your form. And they won’t get it.“

„Why not? Can’t they…?“ Astarion stopped to take a breath again. He had forgotten, again. „They can turn into you.“

Raphael sneered. „Because we are sharing a bed.“

Astarion paused. „Oh, so that’s…“

„Yes.“

Squirming, Astarion cast his eyes down. „I could…“ But he really, really didn’t want to. At least he thought he didn‘t. He hoped he didn‘t.

„Even if I allowed it“, Raphael said, turning away. „Haarlep isn’t equipped to handle a task like this. They aren’t contractually obligated to do such work, either.“ He shuddered, then. „No. That’s not an option.“

„Illusions, then!“, Astarion exclaimed. „Anything, for fucks sake!“

„I don’t believe any illusion might fool a starving vampire spawn. Even so, the magic might be a lead to me. We can’t risk that.“

Astarion shook his head, eyes wide with the realisation of the inevitability of this predicament. He felt his knees shake and give in, but Raphael didn‘t allow him to slump to the ground.

With a strong grip, the devil grasped him and dragged him over to the chair. „Calm yourself, pet. You won’t be in any real danger.“

Astarion was still shaking his head. „No, please… please…“

„Again“, Raphael said. „I adore your tears, but they won’t get you anywhere. You will be the bait, but you’ll be perfectly safe. Korilla will be close.“ He firmly sat Astarion down.

Astarion felt himself slip away, his mind fleeing from what he feared the most. He heard his mouth say: „When?“

And Raphael noticed he had gone away. „Pet“, he said. „Don’t think I can’t tell you wormed away from me. I won’t have it. I need you to listen. I need you to understand.“ He cupped Astarion‘s face. „Come on back.“

It happened far away, somewhere Astarion didn‘t want to look. And so, he didn‘t.

„Astarion.“

A final tear ran down Astarion‘s cheek, dripping from his chin a second later. This was all Astarion really felt.

Raphael traced the path the tear had taken down his face with his finger, then pulled him in for a kiss.

Astarion didn‘t mean to, but the warm lips on his made his consciousness resurface, not fully, but still.

How different the devil felt in his human guise. His lips were more pliable, the glide of his tongue softer, warm but not scalding, the bites gentler, teeth blunt. His scent wasn’t quite the same. Still there were notes of cherry and smoke, but there was something new, too. Something… citrusy.

Astarion returned the kiss fervently, desperately, instinctively hoping he might escape punishment and pain if he pleased his master. Hoping, because he had to. Because it was all he could do.

Raphael’s warm hands (softer in his human form) cradled the back of his head and held him close, secure.

Could he trust the devil to guarantee his safety? He had no choice, did he?

Astarion sobbed, and Raphael stole the choked noise right from his lips.

„I want weapons“, he choked out.

„You‘ll have them“, Raphael muttered against his mouth.

„And potions… and armour…!“

„You‘ll be well equipped, in case of an emergency“, whispered the devil, his breath hot and sweet. „Oh, pet. You are already more than them. No mere spawn could best you now. Not as long as you have my blessing.“ He kissed him again.

Astarion held the kiss, unwilling to part with him. If Raphael was his lifeline, he was not about to let him go.

The devil allowed the kiss to deepen, let Astarion take over and plunder his mouth as he pleased. Astarion forgot to breathe as he clung to Raphael, silently pleading: „Don’t leave me, don’t let him have me, don’t let me go…“

There was a voice interrupting the mantras that kept replaying in his head over and over…

Astarion paid it no mind, but it came back.
More persistent.

Dear gods it was an actual voice. Someone was here.

„Excuse me? Sirs…? Um… Terribly sorry, sirs, but I was tasked with asking which… drink you’d like…?“

It was the damn butler hovering in the doorway, his face red as a beet as he pointedly didn‘t look at Raphael and Astarion.

Astarion wasn’t quite sure when or how it had happened, but he became aware he wasn’t in a chair anymore.

No, he was sitting astride Raphael, who lay beneath him on his back.

He broke the kiss and sat up, his own face and ears flushing in embarrassment to match the boy’s.

Raphael chuckled. He didn‘t sit up, or try to get out from under Astarion. Instead, he made himself more comfortable by folding his hands beneath his head.

„Hm“, he said. „I rather think I‘d like an aged dwarven wyvern-whiskey. Double-distilled.“

The boy balked. „That… that has quite the kick, sir.“

„Oh, yes. I know. I like a little bite on the tongue.“

Astarion shot him an angry glare at the inside joke, but Raphael only chuckled and patted his thighs.

„Right away, sir. A… again, sorry for… er…“ He cleared his throat. „Sorry.“ Then he hurried out.

Astarion laughed, feeling like he was 20 again, getting up to mischief with his classmates and… he paused. Had he just remembered something from… before he was turned? That was new.

Raphael sat up and petted his upper arms, smiling appreciatively. „You’re beautiful like this“, he said evenly.

Astarion remembered he was supposed to be terrified still. That he was desperate for the devil in a way that his life might depend on. The kiss… perhaps just having control of it… had calmed him.

„Er…“ He got up, or tried to. Raphael held him close.

„You’re mine“, the devil said. „You can question my motives, my ultimate goal… you‘d be a fool not to. But never question that: You are mine. I won’t allow anyone to take you.“

His warm brown eyes were intense, sincere, unflinching even as Astarion searched them for any trace of betrayal.

Astarion swallowed, then nodded. „Yes.“
He believed him. Damn him, he actually believed in the devil.

Fuck, he really was doomed.

Chapter Text

Back in his room, Astarion was left alone with his plentiful and extremely confusing thoughts.

He was scared shitless just thinking about going out into the streets of Baldur’s Gate… to lure out his siblings. It was preposterous. Any one of them would try anything to drag him back to Cazador.

Astarion, despite being the second eldest, had always been the runt of the litter. Mostly, it had been due to Cazador’s numerous and diverse torments targeting him specifically. He had loved Astarion‘s screams in particular, and so he found endless ways to force them out of him.
This had kept Astarion weak, which of course made it easier for his siblings to keep him down. Every squabble and tussle he could remember had ended with Astarion’s humiliating defeat.
They had fought over food, mostly. Cazador had loved tossing them all just one rat… or six, making sure at least one of his spawn would go hungry.

Mostly, it had been Astarion.

But now, did he really have anything to fear from any of them? Wasn’t he strong and fed now, backed by a devil, blessed with new magical abilities even? Couldn’t he best them all?

He just couldn’t fathom it. If he was attacked, he’d succumb to his needless hissing and scratching like he always did, and it wouldn’t do him good. It never did.

But if all went well, Astarion wouldn’t have to do anything but trust in Raphael and Korilla to strike before his siblings might. Korilla had seemed fairly competent when she had rescued Astarion from the guards, but he didn‘t know how she’d do against vampire spawn who knew they’d be beaten and starved if they failed to bring back their prey.

Fuck.

He got up and began pacing aimlessly up and down the room.

Tomorrow night, Raphael had told him, after he had refused to take Astarion to bed. Tomorrow night he‘d go out and lure his siblings out.

That meant he had 24 hours, roughly. Tonight, and the next day, then it was off into the streets he had used to prowl. To get the attention of the ones he feared most.

Raphael had told him to rest up, but Astarion couldn’t find peace, not if he was to face his siblings…

He abruptly stopped pacing, then turned to leave the room. Maybe he could distract himself in the library. And if that tiefling was there… better go bother him than being alone with thoughts of inevitability.

Astarion did his best to look like he wasn’t losing his shit as he crossed the hallway, trying to ignore the mindless debtors scurrying about.

Astarion didn‘t know why, but right now he felt a lot like them. His mind was… wobbly… at the moment. At one moment he felt like laughing, the next he could scream in horror, and the next, he longingly thought of Raphael’s warm touch.

He thought he had figured out his heat and the strong steady rhythm of his heart just calmed his mind to a point where he craved being near him. Without his reassurance… what did Astarion have, really?

Astarion shook his head. It was fine. He was fine. He was scared, but he’d been through worse. He could handle it.

All he needed was some distraction.

To Astarion’s surprise, the tiefling wasn’t alone in the archives. Raphael himself was browsing the shelves, a small pile of books already set aside.

The devil, no less surprised, turned around to him. „Pet. Didn‘t I tell you to rest?“

„I‘m not tired“, Astarion replied stiffly.

Raphael cocked his head. „You seek distraction. I have been thinking about something, actually, a project for you.“ He picked up the books on the desk and unceremoniously dumped them in Astarion’s arms. „Some reading material for you. Maybe you‘ll be inspired to experiment a bit.“

Astarion craned his neck back to read the title of the book at the too of the pile.

„Bats of Faerun - Species and their Habitats“

„Really?“, Astarion scoffed.

„I could force you“, Raphael sighed. „But, if I don’t want you hurt before your next mission, I suppose I better appeal to your common sense instead.“

Astarion felt his ears heat up. He really didn‘t give a single fuck about bats. And Raphael had handed him - what? - five books on the subject.

„You think I‘ll be distracted by reading about what kind of bat I can turn into?“

„Who knows?“

„Can I have some wine, at least?“, Astarion tried. „If I‘m going to be alone with these dusty tomes, I‘d like trying to be drunk.“

Raphael crossed his arms, tail twitching. Was he amused, or was Astarion pissing him off? Who knew? „I thought you wanted to be alone, pet. To get some rest.“

„Well, yes.“ Astarion amended quickly. „But I suppose one hour was quite enough.“

„And that’s exactly why I don’t tell you everything“, Raphael groused. „Look at you. You can barely handle what I did reveal.“

„I can handle it just fine!“

„Clearly“, said Raphael drily. „Go to your room, and read, or don’t. I have preparations to make, so just don’t… I must not be disturbed.“

Astarion felt utterly left alone as he turned away with a resigned nod. He really just… didn‘t want to await his potential deadly mission all by himself. He could snap at the devil, tell him he didn‘t need or want his company anyway… but Raphael had already glimpsed behind the mask. He‘d seen how vulnerable Astarion really was.

„I… perhaps you‘d like to look over one of my contract drafts?“

Surprised, Astarion looked up at his master.

„I thought you’d prefer some time alone. No tasks or missions…“ the devil gestured weakly. „But if you like, you can always…“

Astarion shuddered remembering the tense hours spend bent over the contract. „Er… I wouldn’t want to mess anything up… in my nervousness“, he muttered, trying to still sound grateful. What he really wanted was more time with Raphael. To enjoy his warmth, feel his powerful muscles dance beneath his skin. Having that reminder of the devil’s strength close enough so he couldn’t sink into despair.

It seemed Raphael understood, perhaps reading his mind, maybe just seeing straight through him.

„I could… send Korilla or Haarlep, if you’re in need of company“, he offered, crossing his arms behind his back. „I myself am occupied. The next ritual must be prepared. Time is still of the essence, little mouse.“ He stepped closer, snapping his fingers and vanishing the books from Astarion‘s arms.

As soon as Astarion was free, Raphael grasped his face with both hands and kissed him, his tail curling around his thigh, idly petting him.

Raphael’s tongue was demanding, the kiss heated, but he went slow, savouring Astarion’s taste (and probably the fear simmering just below the surface). His broad warm thumbs stroked Astarion’s ears, kneading the tips, causing his prey to fully melt into him, knees weakening.

„M… master?“

That was that damned tiefling librarian.

Raphael growled in response, his grip on Astarion tightening.

„So… so sorry to disturb, master, but you asked to be notified immediately when the tome from Dis arrived…“ The tiefling was all but squeaking with discomfort. It would have been funny if he hadn’t been interrupting the kiss, the only thing that kept Astarion somewhat grounded.

Raphael ended the kiss, smirking when Astarion growled and bit at his lip trying to keep him there. „So demanding“, he muttered. „We shall continue this, pet, after your work is done.“

He released Astarion, leaving him stumbling against a table.

His head was spinning with the intensity of this short moment. Shaking, he raised a hand to his ear where the devil’s touch had lingered. He was hard now. It was almost embarrassing how quickly Raphael had worked him up, without touching him a whole lot.

Astarion caught the librarian’s gaze, wide with fear, and he quickly broke eye contact as if ashamed that he had looked.

Raphael had taken a large tome from his hands, and the mere sight of the yellowed, tattered book made Astarion shudder. It just screamed „cursed“ to him.

„Yes“, Raphael muttered. „Yes, this will do.“ Without looking up, he adressed Astarion: „Little mouse, the books are in your room. If you give reading a chance, you might find yourself surprised by how fast time flies. Come to me tomorrow at sundown, do remember your ring.“

Astarion scoffed at being discarded this quickly. He wasn’t just some toy to be set aside when the devil had more interest in something else.

Despite his better judgement, Astarion prowled closer, fingers brushing over Raphael’s tail, his other hand reaching for his face.

The devil gasped, a visible shiver running up his spine, the his hand shot up, catching Astarion by the wrist.
„Pet“, he said, watching him from the corner of his eye. „I strongly suggest you stop testing me. I can always order you to remain in your room.“

Astarion hissed, baring his fangs, and shrank back. „Fine. Your loss, darling.“

Then he stormed off.
He thought he heard Raphael chuckle, but paid him no mind. Screw the devil anyway.

He retreated back to his room, and took good care to slam the door shut as loudly as he could. Something shattered in another room. Perfect.

Astarion spotted the pile of books on the table, grabbed the one at the top, dramatically flinging himself onto the bed.

Ugh. Reading. He felt like he was back in school. Astarion blinked, pausing.
Had he just… remembered school? He probably had gone at some point when he had been a child. He was pretty certain he came from a rich family. They would have sent him to school, right?

Astarion opened the book. Maybe… maybe more would come to him if he kept going?
Perhaps he might remember more…
maybe his parents. Maybe… just who he had been once upon a rime.

Or maybe not.

Astarion really wasn’t sure if he wanted to remember. Damn, the regular feedings and reductionof unimaginable horrors inflicted on him made it laughably easy to just… think.

Pointedly, he began to read:

„There are more than 100 species of bat living at the sword coast and the surrounding area, not including the giant variety.“

There was a soft clink, and the gentle thunk of glass on wood. Astarion looked up and saw a bottle of wine materialise on the desk, a glass right next to it.

Astarion couldn’t hold back a laugh. He left the glass and grabbed the bottle, returning to the bed as he uncorked the bottle with his fangs and began to drink.

It wasn’t wine at all. It was the blood of someone who had drank quite a lot. And it was delicious.

An hour later, Astarion was giggling over the names of the bats, quite drunk now, for the first time in centuries.

„Dark-Nosed Small Footed WHAT? Oh! Sac…!“ Astarion was howling with drunken laughter. „Sac-Winged Eastern Bat!“
He rubbed his eyes, giggling like a child, then tried getting himself together before reading on. „Gods.“ Immediately he descended into another laughing fit. „Bon… Bonnetteded wha? Bonnet? Bo? Ah, who cares about the great bonnentened bat! Hah Fringe-Lipped Bat!“ Wheezing, he made another grab for the blood-wine. Not only did it taste much better than vinegar, but it did the job of getting him absolutely shitfaced. „What the…? Waterdeep Long Tongued Bat? Pfffft! Oh, ah! Lookathat! The Silver Haired Bat that’s me, it’s gotta be. But why isit so f…ugly?“

Then he was howling again, because he had found the famous „Trumpet-Nosed Bat“, complete with a drawing of an ugly silly looking creature with the longest face he had ever seen.

There was a sharp crackle and Korilla abruptly appeared in his room. „Astarion, what the fuck! You know my room is right next to yours, right? Right there!“ She pointed.

Astarion, despite his shock at her sudden appearance, couldn’t quite stop laughing.

„Sweet hells you sound like a dying hyena. Whatcha got there?“ She plucked the bottle from his hand. „Dear gods what is that? I can smell the alcohol in it! Are you okay?“

„Marvelous, darling“, Astarion slurred. „Sorry bout the noise.“ He hiccupped. „But I just learned there’ssthis…“ He couldn’t help but giggle, again. „Sac-Winged bat!“

Korilla did her best trying to look down her nose at him as his laugh began to pitch into the hyena range, again. But her mouth twitched and she bit down on her lip. „Yes, very funny.“

Wheezing, Astarion showed her the trumpet nosed bat, and Korilla gave in with a snort. „What the fuck is that ugly thing?“ She sat on the bed next to Astarion and took the book from him. „Gods it’s hideous. I love it.“

„Isn’t it just?“ Astarion wiped the tears from his eyes. „But I don’t look like that, do I? Because otherwise you‘ll have to hand me back the blood-wine.“

„Nah, you’re way more cute.“ She conjured a bottle of whiskey into her hand. „If you’re not gonna stop your cajoling, mind if I get drunk too?“

„Yes.“ Astarion took the bottle from her. „Because I need you at your best so you can protect me tomorrow.“

„Please, I can handle my liquor.“

„No whissskey for you“, Astarion decided, ripping the cork out with his teeth, and downing the strong alcohol.

„You know I can just summon another bottle, right? But by all means. I wanna see how much you can handle before barfin it all up.“

Astarion stubbornly emptied the whole bottle. One of the upsides of not needing to breathe.

Korilla made an approving face. „So, why you reading these bat facts?“

„Raphael gave them to me“, Astarion replied, making a clumsy grab for the blood-wine, which Korilla kept out of reach. „So I could findout more bout my bat.“

„You don’t even know what you look like“, she gently reminded him.

„Well I wasn’t about to… learn anything anyway. I jusss wanted to… I dunno… have smthing to do…“

„Yeah you got shitfaced and kept the whole house up instead.“

„At least I‘m not boring“, Astarion replied.

„Yeah, you’re just a fucking idiot“, she told him. „But you’re a lovable fucking idiot. I‘m not gonna let you be taken, aight?“

Astarion pursed his lips and fixed her with his gaze. She looked blurry, but serious. „Well, good“, he said. „If you‘d miss me otherwise.“

„Sure thing“, she said.

„So?“ Astarion thrust the book at her. „Which one am I?“

„Well none of them are white and curly“, she muttered as she leafed through the first chapters. „I guess you look most like one of them long-eared types.“

Astarion examined the page. „These are all just little gremlins, aren’t they?“

„Yeah“, she agreed. „But still pretty cute. Anyway: You able to do anything but just… sit there? When you’re a bat.“

„Ugh I haven’t gotten around to flying just yet. And now I can’t even sit straight.“

„Might be just what you need. I feel like you’re holding yourself back, honestly. Should be easy for a bat, flyin, I mean.“

„It isn’t, darling.“

„I don’t believe you. If I had wings, I‘d fly everywhere, all the time!“

Astarion curled his lip. „Well it’s not easy! Because you don’t have hands and you gotta…“ He hiccuped. „Flap your arms and legs and you can’t catch yourself, because you don’t have hands, so… so you can’t catch yourself.“

„Elves really can’t hold their liquor“, Korilla chuckled.

„I‘m holdin it!“, Astarion protested immediately. „M holdin it jussst fine!“

„Well“, she said, shrugging. „So why not try flying now? You fall, I can catch you. I got magic.“

Astarion squirmed. „Don’t want you to look.“

„Pfft!“

„You already had your laugh last time with the… the bath.“ Astarion sniffed.

Korilla raised the bottle of blood-wine and wiggled it at him. „You want a few more swigs? You‘ll be much braver.“

Astarion did want to empty the bottle, but he didn‘t want to let the dwarf win. Pouting, he considered his options, only for Korilla to jostle him out of it with a chuckle.

„Fuck, you’re really out of it, aren’t you?“

„I have nnno idea what you mean“, Astarion slurred.

„You can barely keep your eyes open, love. Why dontcha sleep for a bit? You do need your rest before tomorrow night.“

Love. Astarion blinked. His chest felt fuzzy and warm, but also… tight all of a sudden. „Will you keep me safe? Really?“, he asked her quietly.

„Of course.“

Astarion wiped his eyes. „M scared.“

She was quiet for a while, then told him: „No shame in that. Of course you are.“

„CanI hve the ressst of the wine now?“

„Sure. But take it easy.“ She groaned when Astarion immediately tipped his head back to empty the bottle. „Or don’t… I guess…“

He took a deep breath, feeling the liquid warm him up. He felt hot, like he was burning up, but in a good way. It made him feel less afraid.

Astarion knew it was because it made him dumber (gods knew he had counted on just this fact often with his prey for Cazador), but right now he‘d rather be stupid than afraid.

„Just so you know“, Korilla warned him. „I‘m not healing your hangover.“

„Spoilsport“, he replied. „So. How do we do this? I turn into a bat and if I fall, you catch me?“

„What? I thought you didn‘t want to!“

„See, getting drunk for once ina while doesss wonders fr me.“

„Sure, but I‘m a tiny bit worried for you“, she admitted. „Why not just sleep it off?“

„Because if I sleep“, he snapped. „Tomorrow night is going to be just a day away! So, I… I can’t. I‘d rather do something, anything… than just wait for the time to come.“

„You sound like you’re headed to an execution… All is going to be just fine. I‘ll be right there with you. You think I can’t handle a pack of emancipated vampire spawn?“

Astarion slumped, shaking his head. Or course he thought she was capable. But he didn’t think he was. He‘d crumble the moment he lay eyes on his siblings. „Imma turn into a bat, now.“

„What?“

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut, then went back to imagining cold and grasping hands all over him. It came easier than he had thought. Heat began to simmer beneath his skin, then he transitioned into mist, and finally slipped into his bat form easy as breathing.

Korilla caught him when he flopped down towards the floor. „You absolute idiot!“

Astarion squeaked at her. He didn‘t feel drunk anymore. And with that, the fear returned, although a certain giddiness remained. A pleasant buzz in the back of his head.

He let himself settle flat on his belly, spreading his wings.

„Want me to give you a boost?“ Korilla flicked her wrist up, making Astarion understand she was offering to toss him.

Absolutely not! Astarion screeched as unpleasantly as he could and shook his tiny head at her.

„Oh. Aight, no throwing.“ She giggled. „Go on.“

With a mighty flex of his tiny muscles, Astarion launched himself from her hand and swooped upwards, the beating of his wings frantic. He figured he should tire immediately, but instead he found himself very quickly close to the ceiling and opposite wall. He leaned to the left, stopped flapping, and plummeted downwards towards the center of the room like a miniature meteor.

„Whoa“, he heard Korilla say as she stood and prepared to catch him.

Astarion resumed his flapping, swerved around her and gave a screech of triumph, then promptly smashed into the bedpost.

At the hollow thunk of bat on wood, Korilla gave a pitying squeal and caught him before he dropped to the floor.

„What the hells was that?“ She quickly checked him for serious injuries. „Learn to walk before you run!“

Astarion rubbed his ugly nose on her thumb. It stung where he had bumped into the bedpost, but there was no blood.

„I want to be able to fly before I go out there“, Astarion said, or course, in squeaks.

„Cute“, Korilla said. „Can’t understand you though. Wanna keep trying?“

Astarion gave an affirming squeak, then launched himself into the air again. He was getting the hang of this now. As long as he stayed leaning into the room, he could go around in a wobbly circle. He didn‘t tire nearly as quickly as he should flapping his arms and legs like that, but he nonetheless banked towards the chandelier and tried landing on one of the silver arms to rest (and also to try properly landing for once).

The slippery surface was difficult to grasp onto, but Astarion managed to wrap his body around it, and cling on.

„Nice!“, Korilla shouted from below. „Now try hanging. Like this!“ She showed him a page in the book depicting an upside down bat.

Astarion flexed his tiny clawed feet, clasped the arm of the chandelier, and folded his wings close to his body.

With his feet he clung on, letting himself dangle upside down, just like the bat in the book.

It wasn’t nearly as difficult to hold on as he had thought. He met Korilla‘s gaze and stuck out his tongue at her, giving a wink.

She grinned. „Well done. You look like an actual bat now. Just think how nicely you could spy on people now. No-one would spot a tiny thing like you in a crack at the ceiling.“

Astarion looked around. She was right. Small as he was, he wouldn’t be able to pose much of a threat to anyone, but to get away, hide, or enter a place undetected, this bat shape was perfect.

Astarion still thought he’d be better of at least somewhat able to defend himself, but this bat thing? Perhaps it wasn’t half-bad.

He squeaked his confirmation down at the dwarf, then bent his body upwards and climbed back up, using his tiny claws to hold on. It turned out bats were decent climbers as well, if a bit slow.

Korilla sat back down. „Someone learning to love his new shape?“

Astarion scoffed. Love? No way he‘d ever do more than… accept the occasional use his bat form might have.

„Wanna come down?“, Korilla asked. „You really should rest, you know.“

Astarion stuck out his tongue at her, and kept climbing. He was going to the tiny crack at the ceiling where the chandelier was hanging from. And he‘d try squeezing in there. It was surely the best hiding place in the entire house.

„Getting cheeky now, are we?“ Korilla watched him climb. „You know I could get you down anytime. If I really wanted to. What are you…?“ She laughed as she saw him wiggle to fit into the ceiling crack. „I see. Never mind, have fun.“

Astarion turned around so that only his head stuck out. He expected to feel afraid, to remember his time in the tomb, locked away, choking and starving… but somehow being so far from the ground made this an entirely different thing. Maybe it was just being in a different body. And Astarion could see and breathe just fine as long as he stayed like this.

Dare he say it was actually nice being nestled so far above Korilla’s head?

„Imma leave you to rest, aight?“ Korilla called up to him. „Goodnight, Astarion!“

With a squak if protest, Astarion wiggled out of the tiny hole, and dropped down. With his wings, he caught himself before ending up on her shoulder.

He wasn’t ready to rest just yet.

„Now what?“ She asked him, raising an eyebrow. „Just showing off? Or is there something you need?“

Astarion hesitated, slowly unraveling a lose thread he found sticking out of her collar. What did he want, except for her not to leave him just yet?

He‘d love to get a tour of the house, riding on Korilla’s shoulder. But how to tell her, and to make her comply?

He pointed with a wing, waving his tiny claws towards the door.

She looked, then grinned at him, raising an eyebrow. „You‘d like that, wouldn’t you? I‘m not carrying you around.“

„Why not!“, he uselessly complained.

„Oh stop your screeching.“ She playfully swatted at him.

He made a leap for the bed, then turned back to his elven self.
The alcohol in his system hit him like a greatclub, and he had to dig his fingers into the bedding trying to stay upright.

„Fuuck.“

Korilla cocked her head at him. „Told ya not to overdo it.“

„I didn‘t overdo annnthing“, Astarion muttered, flopping over onto his back.

„Sure ya didn‘t. Goodnight, Astarion“, she said pointedly.

„Don’t wanna trance yet.“

„Well, then don’t. But I‘m not an elf, okay? I need my sleep, and I need more than those 4 hours.“

„Can’t you sleep here?“ Gods, Astarion normally would have been mortified even admitting to finding comfort in the thought, let alone voicing it.

„No way in the hells, sweetheart“, she laughed. „Tell you what: You go trance, now. I‘ll stay until you’re asleep.“

„Iss not sleeping“, Astarion corrected her tiredly. His drunkenness had decidedly gone from fuzzy and comfortable to bothersome. His fingers tingled unpleasantly, his tongue felt thick, his mouth was dry.

„Doesn’t matter what it isn’t“, she replied, waving away. „I‘ll stay until you’re not awake anymore, then. Better?“

Astarion hesitated, lost to the feeling of being trapped in a spinning room. „Iidon’t trance toowell…“

„I know. But don’t you think it might come easier after the whole bottle you drowned?“

„I dunno.“

„Well, go on. Just try.“ She took his sleeping shirt and pants from the closet and sat on the side of the bed. „Get changed.“

Astarion sat back up and struggled out of his shirt. He needed a few tries to find the arm-holes, but eventually managed to put it on.

Korilla had politely turned around and waited for him to finish.

„Can I ask you something?“, she asked into the empty air.

Astarion wiggled into the pants. „Depends on the question.“

„About Raphael… you… you know… did you…?“

„Ffffr fuck‘sssake!“, Astarion slurred. „We fucked. Happy now?“

„Er… Oh. Oh, okay.“

Astarion crossed his arms. „Annnthing else?“

Korilla slowly turned around to him, seeing if he’d protest. When he didn‘t, she settled and awkwardly said: „I just thought he’d be fine with Haarlep, is all. I‘ve never seen him with anyone else, nor show interest. You’ve sure shaken things up.“

Astarion blinked, trying to focus his eyes. „I dinnn‘t ask for this“, he groused.

„True. But since you’re his new obsession… I don’t know. Just be careful.“

Astarion lay back, pressing his hands to his eyes. „Ss far too late for that, darling.“

He couldn’t see her anymore, but he heard her exasperated chuckle. „Oh gods, you‘ve started to fall for him, haven’t you?“

„I have not!“, Astarion yelled, sitting back up. „Never! No! Er…“ He stifled a gag when the room started spinning.

Fuck, was he lying? No. No way. He hadn’t fallen for anyone, although he couldn’t deny he felt drawn to the devil. Who wouldn’t? Raphael was powerful, confident, and handsome, and he also legally owned Astarion. Of course he wouldn’t be opposed to tasting him, to have a share of his power. Of course he’d submit to him so he’d be warm and fed, so he could stay alive and be comfortable instead of rotting in a dungeon. The devil treated him well. Better than he was used to anyway.
Of course he was bound to get a bit confused.

Astarion frowned. Wait, now he was confused? Hm, well, maybe, but that didn‘t mean anything. Did it?

Oh dear gods.

„Thisssn‘t a romance novel!“, he squealed. „M not falling franyone!“

„Careful, sweetheart“, said Korilla with a wink. „Your pitch is getting awfully close to your bat voice. And I‘m starting to understand about as much as I do when you’re squaking at me in bat.“

„Well, you’re acc…“ Astarion frowned when his tongue refused to dance through the word he wanted to use. „Acc… well you’re saying things that aren’t true!“

She snorted a laugh. „Alright, fine. You aren’t falling for him, you’re just fucking and kissing him a whole lot. And blushing when he speaks with you. Yes, perfectly normal. Sorry I‘ve… accused you.“ She enunciated the word perfectly, causing Astarion to scowl at her.

„Well how‘m I s’posed to feel“, he mumbled, lying back down. „Been treated like fuggin shit f‘so long… I just get all fuzzzzzy and weird when he’s nice t‘me. S‘really not fair.“

„Agreed. Maybe we should discuss this when you’re a bit more… eloquent? I feel like you’re about to tell me stuff you wouldn’t actually want me to know.“

Astarion stuck out his tongue at the ceiling. „Now you’re just makin me wanna tell ya. But I wanna see yr‘face whenI do, and if I sit back up Imma puke.“

She laughed. „Oh, ew! Stay down, then, ya weirdo!“

„M not a weirdo.“

„Totally not“, she agreed.

Astarion noticed she had gotten up and pulled a blanket over him, like a mother tucking in a child. „Wha…?“

„You‘ll have to… trance, or whatever eventually. Now‘s good, don’t you think?“

„No“, Astarion said defiantly, despite his blurry vision.

„Oh, yes.“ She sat next to him on the edge of the bed and took his face in both hands. „How about you close your eyes?“

She was casting something on him. Something he felt blocked by… something woven into the core of his very being.
It hit him, then, and he wrenched his head from her grip.

Half-heartedly baring his fangs at her, he hissed. „Don’t… charm me…! You… rude…!“ He couldn’t think of anything, so he just left it at that. „Rude, yes.“

„Just trying to help, you stubborn elf asshole! Maybe just let me, then you’ll have a nice little trance and I can finally go to sleep.“

Astarion pouted up at her. „Don’t like being charmed… I‘ll do it myself, just…“ He didn‘t want it to be tomorrow.

„I‘ll stay, if you want. Hells, I‘ll even read ya some fun bat facts, if it helps!“

„You‘d do that?“ Astarion chuckled. „Well, then I suppose I‘ll close my eyes n… have you bore me t’sleep.“

Korilla boxed his shoulder, then opened the book with the soft whisper of ancient paper.

„The great sword-coast yellow bat is a medium-sized mouse-eared bat native to coastal regions of Faerun, as well as closeby islands. Its primary habitat is the sword coast for which it is named. The great sword-coast yellow bat is grey, black, or bright brown in color and is 1.2–2.0 in long and weighs 4.5–9.5 g. It is similar in appearance to the more common long-nosed Waterdeep bat, but is distinguished by its feet size, toe hair length, pink lips, and a keel on the calcar.“

Astarion, already drifting off, blearily asked: „Whassa calcar?“

„Er… no idea?“

Astarion chuckled tiredly. „Thehe… toe hair
length.“

„Yes very funny“, Korilla agreed, exasperated. „You trancing yet?“

„Getting there…“

„Maybe you‘d be faster if you stopped talking, you arse.“

Astarion grinned, his eyes still closed.

Korilla heaved a sigh, then continued: „The species is well known for hunting small fish as well as insects. They inhabit coastal caves in colonies of up to…“

Astarion slipped into a trance gently, with visions of bats diving into foaming ocean waves.
He was aware when Korilla stopped reading, closed the book and stood, tugging his blanket into place.

Then she quietly left.

Astarion could have ended his trance, but now he might as well get his four hours in and try to properly recover. He wasn’t plagued by shockingly vivid nightmares as he so often was.

As his mind naturally recalled and sorted through the memories of the day, he kept dwelling on the feeling of scalding lips pressed to his, hands, warm and strong roaming over his body, holding him. Securing him. Supporting him. He lost himself in memories of the blood he had tasted, all smoke and spices.

Promises of safety, of power, of a future.

Future. Yes, he hadn’t believed in such a thing for himself in a very long time. Now that he had it in his sights, he would fight, and kill, to obtain and keep it.

His mind kept jumping from „Future“ to „Freedom“, but Astarion reeled that errant thought in as soon as he realized it had tried running away with him.

He would still be contracted to Raphael, no matter his success with stealing the ritual from Cazador. Still… owned by him. Still his, body, mind and soul.

But maybe they‘d be equal in power at least. Partners. Surely the devil would be grateful for obtaining those 7000 souls.

Or maybe Astarion was just being naive in his trance-dreaming. Still, being enslaved by a devil wasn’t as bad as everyone said. It could only get better if Astarion became more powerful.

Astarion’s thoughts, in sleep-like trance, circled around the exciting and novel prospect of having a future, if he could only grasp it.

Astarion woke up feeling remarkably well-rested.

He stretched and yawned so hard he felt his jaws crack, then he ran a hand through his curls, finding them tangled and messy (but not in a good way). He was overdue for a good wash. Although his drunkenness had passed, he still felt a bit fuzzy, his tongue dry, his eyes itchy.

Astarion sighed, got up and exited his room. If he wanted a bath, the only place he could get it was the boudoir, Haarlep‘s room.

As he closed the door, his gaze was caught by the giant portrait of Raphael just out there in the hallway.

Now that he had gotten to know the devil, Astarion thought the painting didn‘t do him justice, and was exaggerated to the point of being gaudy, both at the same time.

Astarion chuckled to himself watching the serious handsome face, remembering the softer expression he‘d seen just the day before when the devil had kissed and caressed him.

He couldn’t believe how much he craved the devil’s embrace. It should be concerning, of that he was certain.

But Astarion was well beyond reason at this point. Raphael, and his promises, the future he offered, was all he had. If he didn‘t trust and believe in the devil, he was really in trouble.

As he walked down the hallway, he the dancing woman passed him, almost running into another lost soul crawling about on all fours.

Well, Astarion thought glumly as he watched them navigate the narrow hallway, this should probably freak him right out.

But it didn‘t.

Astarion had been these people endlessly dancing to someone else’s drum, crawling on the floors like an animal, like a dog. He had been this, and worse. Under Cazador.

He wasn’t them, not here.

No, Astarion was going to have a nice bath, and revel in being cherished by Raphael, at least for now.

Astarion entered the boudoir, finding it empty.
The healing pool was steaming gently, inviting Astarion closer.

Before entering the water, Astarion picked out an outfit (oversized), and towel. „I‘m sure they won’t mind.“

Then he undressed and walked down the stairs and into the pool, sitting on the underwater bench and closing his eyes as he let bliss wash over him.

Warm baths had always been the biggest luxury, and not one that Cazador had afforded him. Maybe three or four times, Astarion had made his old master so happy he had allowed him a warm bath.
Otherwise he had to share cold water with all 6 of his siblings (and no, one did not get used to that).

After he was done soaking in the warmth, Astarion pushed off the wall to inspect the various soaps and oils lined up on a small shelf.

He was planning to take his time, but he wanted to smell his best when he stomped one of his siblings tonight. Or rather watch Korilla do it.

Same difference, as long as there was stomping.

Astarion meticulously sorted the oils and soaps by scent, then experimented with mixing them to get something that might suit him.

He jumped when the door swung open, and Haarlep sauntered in. The incubus was wearing Raphael’s form, as they often did, but as they came in, their body shifted, skin rippling, into a dark haired human woman with frankly absurdly large naked breasts.

Astarion couldn’t help but stare.

„Oh“, Haarlep said, stopping in visible surprise. They quickly recovered, one hand on their hip. „Hello there, vampling. What a pleasant surprise. Mind if I join you?“

They didn‘t wait for Astarion to reply, but stepped into the steaming water and sidled up to Astarion.

„Haarlep“, Astarion sighed. „I cannot stress how much I am not in the mood.“ He was exhausted, not physically (he had enjoyed a long good trance), but mentally. Emotionally. He didn‘t dare to think beyond this bath he was taking right now, so he mustn’t let Haarlep scare him away.

Whatever the incubus said, Astarion was certain by now that they weren’t actually allowed to seduce him.

„When are you ever in the mood?“, they pouted, stroking an errant curl behind his ear. „Well, since I can’t touch you, let me enjoy the view at least.“

Astarion turned around to them. „Who‘s this?“ He gestured at the unfamiliar body the incubus had chosen to wear.

„Oh this old thing?“ Haarlep jiggled their breasts. „A prisoner. Raphael told me to go feed in the dungeons, so I had my pick.“

„Oh.“

„Yes, well. She enjoyed it too, if you must know.“ Haarlep grinned their trademark
grin. It was the sort of dangerous smile that Astarion would recognize on any form
they wore.

„Is there something wrong with your usual… er… attire?“

„What you mean Raphael?“ Haarlep wrinkled their delicate nose. „Nothing wrong with it, no. But imagine wearing the same outfit every single day. It gets boring, fast. Really fast. I like changing things up when I get the chance. How do you like this one?“ They turned around for him, showing off their curves and thick thighs, throwing back their heavy dark curls.

„She‘s very pretty“, Astarion replied truthfully.

„Ugh. You’re hopeless, aren’t you?“ They turned back around and crossed their arms. „Pretty? She’s hot, okay? Extremely hot. Sexy, even.“

„Fine“, Astarion chuckled. „Haarlep, you look very sexy.“

„Yes, thank you.“ Haarlep sat back down, appeased. „I know.“

„Say, is it… do you prefer… er…“ Astarion had questions for Haarlep. Irrelevant for his mission, and his overall contract. He was itching to learn more about the strange creature, but how in the hells would you even ask something like…

„If I prefer this form? Or just the female? Haarlep smiled. „Is that what you were trying to ask?“

„Well, yes.“ Astarion sighed in relief. „Yes, that. And also… what’s your true form? Do you have one?“

Haarlep cocked their head, chewing their lip. „You know it’s been so long since someone’s asked me that.“ They pulled their shoulders up. „I… I do have a true form, of course.“

„Wait.“ Astarion bent closer. „Are you… are you being shy? You? Really?“

„Oh, is it really that strange?“ Haarlep gestured, exasperated. „I never show… myself to others. I just show them… other people.“

Astarion scoffed. He understood not wanting to show oneself, but Haarlep had pressured and teased him multiple times now. Learning they liked hiding behind what were probably just costumed to them… it was preposterous. Almost insultingly so.

„Yes, I know“, Haarlep conceded, pouting prettily. „It’s hilarious.“ Then their grin was back, and they stuck out their tongue. „I can still show you, but I‘m not doing it for free.“

„Why is it always a game with you?“

„Why not? Raphael never lets me have any fun. Come on! You tell me about your conquests, I tell you about mine. I‘ll up the stakes after 3 rounds. First you, then me. An exchange.“

„Conquests?“ Astarion barked a laugh. „We both know you have me beat. And I‘m not proud of any of my „conquests“, darling. They never gave me anything back. You get to feed, at least.“

„Hm.“ Haarlep played with their long hair, batting pretty lashes at him. „There must have been some standouts? You know what, I‘ll start! I once had…“ They leaned in closer to him. „a minotaur.“

Astarion stared at them. „You’re kidding.“

„No, really!“ Haarlep backed away through the water. „Watch, watch.“ Their form rippled, growing taller, broader, coarse fur sprouting from their skin.

Within about two seconds, Haarlep had turned into a minotaur, proving their claim. They smirked down at Astarion. „You see?“ They struck a few poses for him, most of them entirely unfit for a creature like this. Then Haarlep showed off their backside and wagged their tail at him, Astarion snorted a laugh.

„Fine, fine! I believe you! Gods…“

Content with his reaction, Haarlep sat back down, scratching at the base of a horn. „One of my more memorable jobs“, they sighed. „Something a bit more exciting than my usual clientele.“

„Oh you mean Raphael?“

„Please, I‘ve only served him for a few hundred years. I‘ve had plenty of masters before him, and I‘ll have plenty, after.“ They clapped their enormous hands. „Right! Now it’s your turn! There must be someone you enjoyed taking to bed. Someone other than our master, hm?“ They winked.

„I don’t…“ Astarion sighed. „Fine, let me think. Sometimes people were… gentle. I suppose.“

“Pick one!“, Haarlep demanded either their booming minotaur voice.

Astarion thought about it and finally said: „I remember this half-orc, of all things. I picked him out because I thought he‘d be easy… I thought he’d fuck me raw and be done with it in a minute, and then Cazador would take him off my hands. Turns out he was one of the gentlest men I ever…“ He scoffed and shook his head. „He actually made me feel great. For a moment. Before Cazador took him.“ He snapped out of the reverent memory. It had been -what- 50 years now? 60? He couldn’t even remember his name now. „Surprisingly good kisser.“

„Really? But those tusks just get in the way, ew! I hate kissing half-orcs. They make for a good hard fuck, but kissing? No thank you.“

„He made do.“ Astarion shrugged. „Your turn, Haarlep.“

„Hm…“ The minotaur tail swished around in the water. „A mermaid.“

„A what?“

„Yes.“ Haarlep turned and showed off the body of a lithe woman with a strong fish tail, scales shimmering a pale pink. Their face was strange, the eyes further apart than Astarion would consider normal, the nose flat, lips colourless.

The creature was alluring, but alien, making Astarion shudder.

„Your turn.“ Haarlep‘s voice was deep and soft, gurgling and wet. They playfully rested their arms on Astarion’s knees, blinking up at him.

„You’re getting a little too comfortable, darling“, Astarion said, one eyebrow raised.

„Aw.“ Haarlep stuck out a tentacle-like tongue. „As if you don’t like it. Don’t distract now. It’s your turn.“

Peeling Haarleps Hands off his legs (they had suction cups now), Astarion thought back to his numerous nights spend beneath a hot sweating body, bent over some barrel, forced to his knees by strong rough hands… The beasts Haarlep had presented brought unpleasant memories back, ones he had managed to suppress for a while. Werewolves. Claws, fangs, bites to the back of this neck, painful couplings with creatures who weren’t human, too large or strange for his body to take.

He squirmed, his tongue suddenly dry.

When he briefly met Haarlep‘s gaze, the incubus shifted again to the fiend Astarion had seen them slip into from time to time, a androgynous creature of exceptional beauty with flowing black locks and a dark pink hue to their skin.

„Well this is no fun“, they muttered. „I didn’t… see, I just wanted to distract you. Whatever you’re thinking… stop. Please? I didn’t want this.“

Astarion wiped his eyes with his arm. „It’s fine, I‘m fine.“

„I can taste your dread. We can talk about something else, if you want?“

Astarion sniffled, oddly touched by their concern. „What’s this form?“, he asked.

„Oh, this? Someone I used to know.“ They seemed wistful. „From back home.“

„Where’s that?“

Haarlep prettily blinked at him. „Would you tell me about yours, too?“

„I‘d rather not… I mean…“ Astarion shook his head. „I‘m afraid I don’t have many… good memories to share, darling. It’s been shit. Pure shit.“

„Hmm.“ Haarlep pursed their pretty purple lips. „Then what would you like to talk about? To lighten the mood just a little.“

Astarion barked a laugh, flashing his fangs. „How about Raphael?“

Haarlep grinned, their tail lashing with excitement. „Oh, I like the way you think. What do you want to know? You‘ve had him -what- three times?“

Astarion blushed. „Just two!“

„Oh, just two!“ Haaelep laughed, seemingly in genuine delight. „Well, how about I do this, then?“ They abruptly changed their form to Raphael’s and moved into Astarion‘s personal space.

Astarion shrank back against the edge of the pool, gasping for air as the familiar handsome face hovered over him, almost nose to nose. Fuck. Even though his nose told him this wasn’t Raphael, shattering the illusion, Astarion felt himself grow hot, responding to the fiend’s naked form suddenly so close. Close enough to touch. And Astarion wanted to touch…

He blinked, snapping out of it. „B… back off, Haarlep“, he squealed. „This isn’t funny!“

„Aw, but it does make you happy. Look, you’re blushing.“

„Oh fuck you“, Astarion covered his ears with both hands.

„Well, I’m an open book! Ask me anything! Of course I could just tell you outright how he likes his tail pulled. Really likes it.“

„What?“ Astarion couldn’t imagine what even having a tail was like. Could it be pleasurable, having it pulled?

Haarlep poked his side with the spade tip of their tail. „Sensitive areas, little vampling. Haven‘t you slept with tieflings before? Horns, tail, ridges… it’s all extremely sensitive. Devils aren’t so different.“

„And you’re sure“, Astarion said mistrustfully, „that he’s just gonna rip my head off as soon as I try it?“

„Please“, they replied easily. „You saw how he allowed me to manhandle him. He loves it.“

Astarion frowned. „I… uh… He seems to prefer being the more… active partner when he’s with me.“

„Only because you let him.“ Haarlep shrugged. „Try handling him a bit rougher, instead if your… what is it you do? Cower?“

„Well, he was rough with me… but I did bite back.“

„You did not!“ Haarlep clutched their nonexistent pearls. „The scandal! What I wouldn’t give to wear your form for him. Have him ravish me like he does you every once in a while.“

Astarion blushed. Ravish sounded about right.

„Really“, Haarlep hissed, tail lashing in sudden anger. „I‘m jealous. I‘ve been doing him for centuries, and the second you show up, he gives you all his attention. I‘d be totally okay, really, totally, if he‘d let me have some fun with you too!“

Squirming with discomfort, Astarion said: „This isn’t my fault.“

„That makes it even worse“, sneered Haarlep. „I just can’t get properly mad at you. Us two… we really aren’t so different.“

„I guess not.“ Astarion hesitated before asking: „Did you come here by choice?“

Haarlep blinked, then smiled indulgently, a terrifyingly familiar expression on Raphael’s face. „You aren’t nearly familiar enough with the laws of the hells, sweetling.“

„You probably aren’t wrong, but it‘s a simple enough question, isn’t it?“

„No“, the incubus replied. „It isn’t. I wasn’t forced to come here, or to sign a contract. But it wasn’t my choice either.“

„So… you’re a slave like me, after all.“

„No.“ Haarlep snarled at him, then shrank back. „Maybe. Although I‘d rather say YOU are a slave like ME.“

Astarion groaned, rolling his eyes. „You’re not making any sense. You know what? I‘m going to wash, now.“

„Some creatures aren’t meant to be free, little vampling“, Haarlep said matter-of-factly. „And some creatures have accepted that fact, while others yet have to.“

Astarion had quickly finished and left the bath after that, unwilling to speak with Haarlep any longer.

Struggling to ignore the gaze lingering on his naked form, he got dressed and turned to leave the room.

Haarlep (still wearing Raphael’s form), dramatically and provocatively turned and put their body on display, made a show of sighing in discomfort seeing him leave.

Pointedly ignoring them, Astarion opened the door and almost bumped into Raphael, who was just reaching for the handle.

„Pet. Done resting already?“

„Um…“ Astarion swallowed when his scent hit him. Gods, Raphael smelled just divine, and it was overwhelming every single time.

The very next second, Astarion realized there was some of his blood mingling with the usual notes of his skin, sweat and hair.
„You’re hurt“, he blurted out in a hushed voice. „What… what happened?“

„Nothing of concern to you“, replied the devil. „It’s a shame you’re done bathing already. I would have joined you.“

„I‘m still in the bath, master“, Haarlep chimed up from the water, their tail causing the water to splash. „You can join meeee.“

Raphael snarled as he tore his gaze from Astarion and to his incubus. „Make room.“

Astarion watched the devil snap his clothes away and stride into the pool. He was clearly trying not to show it, but he was favouring his left side, blood trickling down his flank. I was barely visible on his red skin, but unmistakably there.

Astarion’s fangs extended as the eternal hunger boiled up inside him again. He stood in the doorway, staring as one devil joined the other, taking them in his arms, pulling their head back by the hair.

A faint trace of red showed in the water for a second as the blood was washed off, then it turned pink and finally vanished as the healing properties of the pool took effect.

„Let him watch, master“, Haarlep said huskily pressing their body against the devil. „Oh, please.“

Raphael lowered his mouth towards the incubus‘ lips. „I haven’t told him to leave, have I?“ From the corner of his eye, he looked at Astarion, who felt a pang of excitement at the prospect where there’d been little but fear before.

Slowly, Astarion walked back past the pool towards the chair. He turned it to face the two devils, then took a seat and watched expectantly.

All the while, Raphael had held Haarlep‘s head tilted back, exposing the column of his throat, which Astarion was certain was for his benefit.

The incubus sighed as Raphael pulled them
flush to his body, his eyes never leaving Astarion.

„Let me…“, begged Haarlep, hands running up their master‘s arms and shoulders.

Astarion could only get an idea of what was happening below the water‘s surface. He couldn’t even begin to fathom where one of the devils ended and the other began.

It was nothing short of hypnotic.

Finally, to Astarion’s surprise, Haarlep was released, and they walked Raphael back against the edge of the pool, mouthing at his neck and ears, their tongue flicking out in a silent question.

Raphael accepted their kiss, and Astarion got to watch him melt beneath the incubus, eyes rolling back, hands grasping and kneading.

It was all too easy to imagine this caress on himself.

Haarlep bore down on Raphael, doubtlessly injecting him with their venom, the devil shuddering beneath him. „Have you recovered enough, master? How do you want me?“

Raphael hissed and threw his head back when Haarlep pulled his tail with a sudden yank.

Beneath the water, they began stroking the devil, earning themselves an appreciative groan.

Raphael was just… letting Haarlep handle him.
The vulnerability the devil showed made Astarion‘s knees weak. He held onto the chair, watching with rapt attention.

As the incubus braced their master against the pool‘s edge, they locked their legs around his hips, grinding down. Their strong tail breached the water’s surface, quivering with excitement.

Below the rippling water, their movements became a blur, but Astarion had a good idea of what exactly was going on.

Raphael’s coupling with their identical incubus was frantic, and they were both moaning, groaning, hissing, panting, both not taking their eyes off Astarion.

Astarion felt his face grow hot, and he swallowed thickly. His newly acquired trousers (despite being too big for him) were getting tight.

Should he… join the devils? Take care of himself? Should he just go and leave them to it?

Watching Haarlep ride Raphael felt like an intrusion, and he hadn’t explicitly been invited…

As Astarion frantically considered his options, Haarlep threw their head back and gave a hearty laugh, not stopping the rhythmic rocking of their hips.

Astarion caught their burning gaze and realized they were feeding, sating themselves. And not just on Raphael.

Raphael thrust his hips upwards, but it seemed his participation wasn’t required. Haarlep clamped their legs around him even tighter, keeping him still and smothering him.
„Ah, ah“, they purred. „Is the vampling giving you funny ideas?“ They smirked against his lips. „Let me take care of you, master.“

Raphael groaned in sweet surrender as his incubus increased their pace.

The room was growing hotter, the air getting heavier with steam as the coupling and the heat intensified, the water from the pool evaporating rapidly.

Astarion watched, transfixed, as Raphael came utterly undone beneath the incubus‘ ministrations, huntil he climaxed with a shuddering cry.

It was quite the sight to behold from
his seat. Normally, all Astarion really saw of Raphael during sex was his shoulder and hair.

But his face? Gods below.

Astarion was practically drooling as he watched Raphael’s mouth fall open, fangs glistening in the dim light. His eyebrows drawing together as he screwed his eyes tightly shut, muscles quivering as he gripped Haarlep tight enough to bleed.

As the mighty devil came unraveled with a scream that bordered on guttural, his entire body convulsing, Haarlep moaned against his exposed throat, tongue flicking out as they gorged themselves on the pleasure released by their partner.

Astarion bis his lip trying to stifle his own moan watching the two identical bodies rut against each other.

Finally, Haarlep threw back their head and heaved a sigh. „Ah, oh, master. We really need to have our little vampling watch more often.“

Raphael was still extremely busy catching his breath. „Haarlep, you may take care of Astarion, but don’t drug him.“

What?

Astarion scrambled out of the chair as the incubus immediately left off their master and came climbing out of the pool towards him. Before he could decide whether to run, they had stopped in front of him, very pointedly crossing into his personal space and just shy of touching him.

Meanwhile Raphael had still not entirely come down from his high. His gaze was hazy as he met Astarion‘s eye. His words, however, were meant for his incubus: „You may taste him. But overstep, and so help me…“

Haarlap rolled their eyes, but grinned in anticipation. „No touching until he says so.“

Astarion stared up at them. He knew he was technically in control, but hells if it didn‘t feel like he was as Haarlep‘s mercy.

All he had to say was no.

But the words didn‘t come.

It seemed the incubus understood. Their smile broadened. „I‘m going to start gently. You just tell me if… you want me to stop. But you won’t, will you, sweetling?“

Astarion swallowed as Haarlep lightly pushed him back into the chair.

„Gods this is delicious“, they muttered as they looked down on him. „Just perfect. I can’t wait to take you apart. So, do you want to take those off, or should I?“ They began playing with his lose waistband. „Technically those are mine, aren’t they? Give them back.“

Astarion scrambled to obey, kicking the oversized trousers off without looking away from the incubus standing before him.

„Very good, pet.“

Astarion gasped, then quickly snapped his mouth shut, horrified with his desire and his obvious voicing of it.

„Oh, does this do it for you? Should I… sell you the fantasy?“ The incubus ran a warm hand through his hair and pulled his head back, pulling his locks just so. „Your master, on his knees for you?“

Astarion opened his mouth to answer, only to have Haarlep‘s thumb quickly slipped between his lips, pressing down on his tongue.

Astarion shivered tasting the incubus’ skin, but bit back a moan.

Grinning down at him, Haarlep ran their thumb over Astarion‘s fangs. „These are so cute. You‘ll let me feel them, one day, won’t you? Aren’t you eager to have a taste?“

Hells yes, Astarion was eager. The very skin of the incubus was like a feast, and he knew their blood tasted nothing short of heavenly. And that had been from a goblet. How good would it be directly from the vein?

Astarion squirmed fighting his desire to bite down and find out.

Pleased with Astarion’s struggle, Haarlep smiled. „Oh, good boy.“ More quietly they added: „That is some remarkable self-control.“ They pulled their hand back, examining their fingers, now dripping with saliva and venom.

Astarion sigh of relief turned into an incredulous moan as Haarlep proceeded to lick their hand clean, their eyes fluttering shut.

„Hm“, they said. „Funny the both of us have venom. I wonder what yours does.“ Then they gracefully sank to their knees and pushed Astarion‘s knees apart. „You know mine has quite a lot of properties. I can’t wait for you to find out.“

Astarion should have gotten up and fled. He should have bolted like the frightened animal he was, but he was utterly transfixed by the way Haarlep played with him, barely even touching, holding his entire attention, keeping him from drifting, making him want this.

Haarlep ran their claws over the sensitive flesh of Astarion’s inner thighs and chuckled as he threw his head back and hissed.

Then, without preamble, they took Astarion‘s extremely hard length into their mouth, swallowing him down to the root within a second.

Astarion squirmed in the chair, torn between pulling the incubus even closer, and pushing them off to keep his head. Their mouth was impossibly warm, their saliva providing the perfect mix of lubrication and a strange tingling sensation that only intensified Astarion‘s want. The venom, most likely.

Haarlep‘s abnormally long tongue lapped at him, their throat working as they bobbed their head in a smooth, perfect pace.

The noises coming out of Astarion bordered on embarrassing, but he didn‘t care. Truly, the incubus had driven every coherent thought from his head. There was only Haarlep and the pleasure they gave him.

Time lost all meaning.
The incubus took him like a starving man would take a meal, making their own pleasure known with moans and groans, all they could do with their mouth full.
At some point, Astarion had no idea when exactly this had occurred, Haarlep had grasped him tightly by the back of his thighs, pulling him even closer, pressing their head between his legs, smushing their nose into his abdomen.

Astarion screamed as the climax hit him, his entire body caught in a frantic spasm that made Haarlep chuckle around him. The motion pulled a sound like a wounded animal from Astarion. The incubus pulled off, but suckled at his tip, wrenching another cry from him, then sat back at their haunches, watching Astarion with a satisfied reverence.

They licked their lips and sighed, then returned to their cheeky grin. „Ah. Delicious. Just look at you, sweetling.“

Astarion was still coming down from his high, half naked and dripping in spend, sweat and saliva, each breath an embarrassing little moan.

He took a few good minutes to find his voice again. „I just… just washed…“, he whispered. But he couldn’t say he regretted having let the incubus have him. „Gods below Haarlep.“

„Hm“, their grin widened. „Fear not, we‘ll get you clean again.“ Faster than Astarion could object, they had scooped him into their arms and picked him up.

In his post-orgasm haze, Astarion couldn’t quite muster the energy to come up with any snide remarks, and settled for a glower. „I can walk on my own.“

„After I just had you? No you can’t, vampling. But it’s cute that you think that.

They lowered themselves into the water,
sitting Astarion down and left him to get a sponge.

Bonelessly, Astarion sank against the edge of the pool, still catching his breath.

Besides him, Raphael turned his head and smiled, his gaze still hazy, but clearing gradually.

„Magnificent, pet“, he muttered, eyes glowing like coals. „Deep breaths, now.“

Haarlep had slithered back close and ran the sponge over Astarion‘s leg, grinning as he shuddered.

„I thought…“, Astarion twitched when the incubus washed his lower belly. „I thought you weren’t allowing them to touch me…“

Raphael stretched, head tipping back until the tips of his horns touched the floor tiles. „I changed my mind. While I‘m still adamant about not sharing you, I thought I‘d make you a gift.“

Lazily, he gestured to the incubus, who stopped their ministrations and straightened, drawing Astarion‘s attention.

Haarlep smiled in genuine excitement, their tail wagging, then their form rippled and shifted, and they gracefully melted into a smaller and slender body, red skin turning a milky white. Flexing muscles turned into lean elegant lines, black hair grew shorter, curled into locks which turned a silvery white.

Astarion watched, utterly transfixed, as Haarlep turned into an elf, lithe and stunningly beautiful, their eyes a deep crimson red, their face angular and thin, plump lips curling into a dangerous looking smile.

Astarion opened and closed his mouth, trying to figure out what he was seeing, then Haarlep cocked their pretty head to the side and grinned, revealing two elongated fangs.

It clicked, then. Haarlep had taken Astarion’s form.

„You…“ Astarion reached out to the beautiful creature before him. „This is…“

„I can’t give you your reflection back, pet“, said Raphael. „But this I can give you.“

Haarlep grinned as they presented Astarion’s body to him, preening unter the attention. Teasingly they ran a pale hand over the side of their neck where the old bite scar marred the smooth surface of the skin.

Astarion gasped when he felt ghostly fingers his own body, as if he was the one being touched, and shivered at the implication.

At his side, Raphael rambled something about how they needed to alter their contracts to set clear boundaries for the use of Astarion’s form by Haarlep, but Astarion barely heard him.

„Thank you“, he whispered, still unable to tear his gaze away from his own face. „Gods, thank you.“

Chapter Text

Astarion admired his face for a long time, the silvery glint of his curly hair, the sharp angles of his cheek bones, nose and ears.
He was undeniably beautiful, in an otherworldly way. He didn‘t look as young as he thought he should. There were lines around his eyes and mouth (so much for Cazador‘s promise of eternal youth), but it didn‘t diminish his beauty in the slightest.

Haarlep showed off some fang as they smiled at him. „Darling“, they said, mimicking Astarion‘s voice perfectly. „You‘re making me blush…“

Hearing his own voice from this… stranger before him was unnerving to say the least.

Astarion gaped when Haarlep‘s pointed ears flushed a slight pink. The faint colour on the pale body before him drew attention to it, making Astarion want to call it out. No wonder he kept getting teased for it.

„Incubus got your tongue?“, they grinned, fangs on full display. „You get it now, hm? Why people go crazy for you.“ Their slender hand travelled down their chest, grazing a nipple, then further down towards their cock.

Astarion flinched and ran his own hands down his body in an effort to shake off the strange ghostly touch, backing away from Haarlep.

He was caught by Raphael, who grabbed him by the arms from behind and pulled him into his lap.

„Haarlep, that’s enough“, he snapped at the incubus. „Hands off.“

The incubus innocently raised their hands over the water. „Pffft, I was hardly doing anything. Relax! Just let me keep this form just a little bit longer, yes? Thank you.“

Raphael snarled, his grip on Astarion tightening. „If you think this form will endear you to me at all…“

„Oh, doesn’t it?“ Haarlep blinked, raising their eyebrows.

Raphael‘s tail swished through the water. „Change back, now. That’s an order.“

Haarlep pouted, wistfully looking themselves down, droplets of water dripping from their curls.

They were absolutely stunning, even while looking distraught.
Fuck.
Knowing that this was what he looked like was extremely confusing. Astarion felt proud and horrified at the same time.
Things… made sense now, at least.

Haarlep gave a sigh. „Playtime’s over, then? Fine.“ They shifted back into Raphael’s larger familiar form.

Astarion, despite his joy of being able to see what he looked like, relaxed a little in Raphael’s grip.

For a moment, he thought he caught Haarlep downright glaring at him, golden eyes blazing like hellfire, but it was gone so fast he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.

Then they were back to grinning in their alluring devious way. „There. All back to normal.“ They grazed their claws over their nipple, making Raphael hiss.

„None of this now, Haarlep. Leave us, now.“

Haarlep narrowed their eyes at their master. „Respectfully, master, this is my room. I still need to apply lotions and oils, and…“

„You will entertain yourself elsewhere until Astarion has left for his mission.“

Haarlep froze, visibly stung and distraught, then they smiled unpleasantly, turned around, and stormed from the room.

Sighing in relief, Raphael tipped his head back. „Finally, some quiet.“ His fingers lightly closed around Astarion’s chin and turned his head to face him. „Well, pet? How did you enjoy my gift to you?“

Astarion was still reeling from the gravity of it, all things told. Seeing himself for the first time in 200 years… it had done so much more for him than just affirm his vanity. No, it had given him back a sense of identity and worth he had long thought lost, long enough to completely forget about it.

And now that missing part of him was back. Astarion knew what he looked like. What others saw when they looked at him. It gave him a new sense of self.

Or maybe, it was going to. Astarion still had some trouble connecting the image of the beautiful pale elf to himself.

„I… I‘m overwhelmed“, he replied truthfully. „Thank you, master…“

„You should see yourself in your pain and pleasure, when I have you beneath me“, Raphael muttered. „Perhaps soon, I shall let you see.“

Astarion stared at the devil. When in the hells was he even supposed to say to that?

Raphael seemed adequately pleased with his speechlessness, smirked at him, then sat him down on the underwater bench. „Be sure to wash the incubus spittle off, all of it. We wouldn’t want any residue causing undesired effects later on, would we?“

Hastily, Astarion made sure he was clean, with no trace left of his encounter with Haarlep.

Raphael pulled him close again, closing a hand around his wrist and lifting his hand above the water. „Still some time left, little mouse“, he remarked looking at the ring burned into his finger. „What should we do with it?“

Astarion shivered feeling the claws of his free hand pet his side, squeezing a bit. „Can I ask something?“

„Oh? And here I was thinking I had already answered your questions yesterday.“

„You were bleeding“, Astarion said quickly, hoping the devil wouldn’t interrupt him. „Why? What happened?“

Raphael gave a long sigh, his grip tightening again. He was close to breaking the skin now. „And I told you. Nothing of concern happened.“

Astarion should shut up, but he couldn‘t quell his worry. „If there’s some maniac in the house swinging blades at you, yes, I feel like that does concern me!“ He swatted at the claws. „Stop that! I get it, you’re threatening me!“

Raphael chuckled, pricking the skin
over Astarion’s ribs. „Very observant. Although not as much as I‘d like. Let me spell it out for you: „I will not discuss my injuries with you. Now, will you drop it, or do I need to throw you in the dungeons until you depart?“ He ran his hand over Astarion’s chest and finally rested his claws against his throat. „It would be such a shame to waste the time we have left for today, wouldn’t it, mouse?“

„I‘m dropping it…“, Astarion muttered, freezing. „There’s… no need for the dungeons.“

„Good boy.“ Raphael’s hand wandered higher over Astarion’s face, and finally into his hair to gently pet him.

Astarion swallowed as he reluctantly settled into it. Pressed into the devil’s lap, he could feel he was growing hard again. After his encounter with the incubus, Astarion didn‘t feel up to having Raphael ravish him, but by now he knew better than trying to get away.

„Hm, you’re tense“, Raphael noted. „I thought you craved some time with me, before your mission.“

Astarion sighed. „Y-yes…“

„Well, you have my full attention now, little mouse.“ His large red hand stroked through his curls, one strong arm wrapped around his middle, and the devil gave a deep sigh of contentment. „Relax, pet. Isn’t this nice?“

Astarion felt like they had been here before. „Of course, master“, he purred, hoping the devil wouldn’t see through his act. He wasn’t even lying. This was nice, if a little strange. This was nice, yes, as long as Raphael wouldn’t force himself on him, or hurt him. „What did I do to earn… all this?“

„Letting you see yourself? I suppose I hoped to set you at ease just a bit, before tonight.“

„Ah. No other reason?“

„I‘m not opposed to pampering my pets, if they behave.“

Astarion barked a laugh. He couldn’t help it.

„Yes, the fact that you repeatedly misbehave isn’t lost on me“, Raphael agreed with a chuckle. „But even so, I enjoy your company. Doesn’t that relieve you?“

„I suppose“, Astarion admitted. „But before I get too comfortable… did you have any equipment in mind for this mission? Surely, if you send me out there, you’d want to make sure I could defend myself.“

Raphael stopped petting his hair and gripped his chin instead, turning his head and pushing his lip up to reveal his fangs. „You have an adorable set of fangs to defend yourself.“

Spluttering, Astarion tried wrenching his head back, but the devil tightened his grip. His smile broadened as Astarion snarled in his struggle, pushing and clawing at him to get him to release him.

„And still you fight me“, Raphael calmly commented his splashing. „While I do very thoroughly enjoy it, surely you can see it’s uncalled for. And it won’t do you any good at all, pet.“

Astarion made one final attempt to wrench himself free, then surrendered, settling for glaring at the devil.

„Good boy“, said the devil, never breaking eye contact. „Now, to properly answer your question: I will not be arming you. I need you to look inconspicuous, so no armour, no tools, nothing but what you had when I picked you up from your old master’s palace.“ He drank in the fear creeping up Astarion‘s spine, his eyes fluttering shut just a moment. „You aren’t expected fight, you’ll be the bait. And you’ll be protected by Korilla. It’ll be safe, little vampling, as long as your siblings don’t notice something is off.“

Astarion tried freeing his head again, to interject, to say anything, but Raphael didn‘t let him. Finally, Astarion relented, surrendering his futile fight. All he could do was look at the devil pleadingly, and hope the sight of him would stir pity in him.

Raphael smiled. „That’s better. Really, pet, I thought we had agreed on you putting your trust in me, and mine. And Korilla certainly is my very best. Tell me: Do you doubt me?“ He released Astarion‘s chin, still holding him very close.

Astarion wiped his mouth with an arm. „I… of course I don’t doubt you… And I know Korilla is capable. As long as you… still want to keep me, I‘m safe. I know I am.“ He shook his head. „But I… I‘m afraid. You probably know I wasn’t the strongest among my siblings. What if there’s more than one? What if…“

„Korilla will be prepared for such eventualities“, interrupted the devil. „But if I send you out there armed, the plan will fail. And I will fall, Astarion.“

At the sound of his name, Astarion shuddered, his mind recalling the image of the beautiful pale elf Haarlep had turned into.

It was a rare thing, to be called by his actual name by anyone, let alone the devil. Astarion understood the gravity of what Raphael was telling him. If they couldn’t get a hold of the other spawn, they‘d lose precious time. Raphael’s meddling in the ritual would be found out. And if he fell, Astarion would inevitably end up being sacrificed by Cazador.

Astarion couldn’t afford to doubt his master. He needed to be bait, pretend he was helpless, hungry, and alone.

Fuck.

„I… I understand“, Astarion muttered. „But I… gods I hate it.“

„You can watch Korilla kill them. The other spawn. Would you like that?“

„I…“ Astarion hesitated.

He had dreamed of killing his siblings many times.

Sleep- and tranceless long days and nights nursing fresh wounds and fantasising about revenge. Thinking about how they had betrayed him in a million ways, all to gain a favour, to be granted a meal, a caress, one day in the favoured spawn‘s room, reprieve, anything to relieve the never-ending horrors. Plotting when and how he’d strike and pay them back for every little cruelty they had inflicted on him.

Some days, he thought, it had been all that had kept him from spiralling into insanity.

Astarion stared at Raphael, then nodded.

„Good“, replied the devil. „Very good. Now let’s get you ready.“

Just half an hour later, Astarion stood dressed in his old things, with Korilla, before the portal.

He was acutely aware of how flimsy the fabric of his shirt was, how worn his shoes, how truly and utterly defenseless he was. Any mugger with a long knife might threaten him. Thinking back, he was surprised how little that had happened, then again perhaps his miserable state of dress made it obvious robbing him would yield disappointing results.

Astarion had mended this shirt so many times, he thought as he ran the fabric through his fingers. He‘d done it for practical reasons, because Cazador hadn’t given them new clothes, but many a night the task of mending of altering what little clothing he could call his own had been balsam for his weeping soul.

Gods, he felt naked. Raphael had denied him even one dagger, asking if he had worn one back when he used to prowl the streets.

Astarion wasn’t supposed to lie, so he had told him no. Stupid.

Korilla caught his gaze and gave him an encouraging smile. „Ready?“

„Very much not, darling.“

„You’re leaving“, Raphael decided. „Remember: Act normally. You’re on the hunt, looking for easy prey. Starving, alone, scared.“

All true, except for the starving part. And he remembered that well enough to play it convincingly.

He nodded.

„I expect you’ll be done before high moon. Just in case, I gave Korilla the amulet that’ll allow you to survive the sunlight. Any further questions, pet?“

Raphael seemed nervous, like he was eager to get them to depart. His tail was twitching, wings shuffling with unease.

Astarion took in this (for the devil) unusual body language and opened his mouth to ask, but Korilla took him by the arm and turned him towards the portal.

„Let’s go, hm?“ To Raphael, she said: „We‘ll be back in no-time, boss. I‘ll take good care of him.“

The devil, his tail now lashing with unease, visibly composed himself. „I know you’ll see that he comes to no harm. Until later, Korilla, pet.“ He nodded at them both in turn.

The dwarf gently took Astarion by the arm, then led him through the portal. She did have to pull him a little, but Astarion went willingly.

They exited the portal at Sharess’ Caress in Baldur’s Gate just as the sun set, Korilla immediately ushering Astarion into the shadows.

„Right, here we are. Don't... look at me like that. I'll be right behind you, even if you can't see me.“

Astarion nodded, trying to be bold, but he felt rather wobbly, all things considered.

„Remember what Raphael said. Act normal. You're on the prowl, looking for prey, right?“

„R...right.“

„Hey, relax!“, she rubbed his upper arms. „Stop shaking, you're fine! This is going to be fine! I'm just gonna snipe them before they know it, and then you'll be one step closer to being free of your old master. Come on, get excited!“

Astarion tried coming up with a reply. Maybe reassuring? Grateful? What ended up coming out of his mouth was: „Kindly get your grubby little dwarf hands off me, darling.“

Korilla snorted. „Aight fine ya long arsehole. Let's go. You just go on ahead, I'll be with you.“ She squeezed his hand. „I‘ll mark you, aight? Just in case something happens that'll cause me to lose sight of you.“

Astarion shuddered as an intense warmth spread through his hand, then looked at his palm. He couldn't see the mark, but he felt its heat, so he knew it was there. „Thank you.“

„Okay. Sun's set. Go on.“

Astarion nodded, his chin quivering, then he turned away and prepared to go through Sharess' Caress.
Korilla didn't follow him, but expertly slinked into the shadows. She did this surprisingly quickly for a dwarf too, probably with magic.

Keeping his eyes down, Astarion hurried through the familiar rooms, avoiding the patrons getting drunk and scanning the room for someone to get lucky with.
The bordello was just beginning to fill up, many of the tables still empty. Astarion spotted the cat watching people filter in from her perch on the wooden beams just below the ceiling.

The cat spotted him as well, neatly folding her paws beneath her chest and giving him a slow deliberate blink.

Astarion didn't feel up for another cuddle session with her, so he hurried on, past the bar and the Mamzell, out the door and onto the streets.

The markets were closing, some stragglers still trying to strike a last-minute-deal.

This was the time Astarion and his siblings would normally leave the palace. So it wouldn't be long until they would show up to the taverns, and the docks, trying to coax some poor drunkard back to their master.

Astarion really only had to wait until he was spotted, although he didn't think his siblings would show themselves and confront him on a crowded street like this.

So, he took a deep breath, remembering Korilla's promise to stay nearby, and made his way down the street.

Fewer and fewer people passed him as the hours went on and the moon slowly wandered across the firmament. It was beginning to rain. Distant thunder rumbled through the streets.

The bustle and noise of the busy taverns of the city faded as he entered the ugly underbelly of the Gate.
The streets you avoided unless you were up to no good.

Astarion recognized every single detail. The rotting barrel he‘d been bent over no less than three times just this year. The empty chicken cages quietly rusting away near a barred window. The sewer lid that was always askew and never quite closed the entrance.
The dark figures hiding in the shadows (none of them vampire spawn), making shady deals, nursing wounds, or waiting for people with heavy coin purses (Astarion didn‘t need to fear them, as he had nothing but the clothes on his back).
The rats scurrying off when he got too close.

They knew to avoid him. He had spent many a night desperately chasing their kin to get but a taste of blood to get him through the night.

But then… something decidedly out of place.

The legless beggar girl wasn’t sitting where he had found her for months now.
Her scent was still in the air, so she had only recently left. But why? And how? Astarion thought that something extremely substantial needed to befall him for him to attempt to move without legs.

Astarion scanned the scene and found the rubbish on the floor recently disturbed.

Astarion stopped and listened, the patter of raindrops making it difficult to discern anything of interest. Then there was a shuffling sound, a groan.

Astarion froze, ears peeled for the slightest sound. The noise was coming from around a corner.

Astarion looked around, but Korilla was nowhere to be seen. Had she blundered and caused the noise?
Very slowly, Astarion crouched and snuck over to the wall for a look, wishing he had some way of silently contacting Korilla.

As he slowly peeked around a corner and froze in disbelief and shock.

There in a puddle of filth and black blood lay Petras, his most hated sibling. He lay on his back, mouth agape, face contorted in pain, hands clutching a wooden stake planted firmly in his chest, twitching but otherwise frozen.

Above him stood Wyll, silver rapier pointed at his trembling form. „You have one last chance“, the boy said solemnly. „One. Where is your master hiding?“

Astarion shuddered seeing Petras‘ agonized face. He had been cut on his leg, shoulder and ribs; the silver poisoning had to be pure torture. Not to mention the stake Wyll had evidently plunged right next to his heart. Stunning him, but not killing him yet.

The spawn bared his teeth, eyes glowing a bright red. He couldn’t say it, the compulsions left him unable to speak of Cazador.

„You were supposed to bring him prey, weren’t you? How many of you are there?“

„Fuck…!“ Dark, rancid blood spurted from Petras‘ mouth. „Five! There’s… there’s five of us left…!“

„Five“, said Wyll. „Are the others out in the city too, hunting?“

„Just…“ Petras choked, clawing at the stake again. „Get this… this thing out of me…!“

„Not likely, spawn“, Wyll replied coldly.

„Then what reason…“ Again, he gave a rattling cough. „… do I have to help you? If you’re gonna kill me anyway…?“ Through the blood spurting through his fangs, he smiled unpleasantly.

„Because I can drag this out“, Wyll replied, his rapier coming awfully close to Petras‘ exposed arm.

„Imma… Imma rip you apart…!“, Petras yelled, the last word sputtering into a choked pitiful noise, rage snuffed out from him. „Argh, fuck…“ Another coughing fit. Petras was being eloquent as always. „What the fuck… do you want…?“

„If you can’t tell me about your master, tell me this: Is there a white haired elf among your master‘s brood? Pale, slender, white curly hair.“

Petras fell silent for a moment as he stopped breathing in his shock (It happened to all of them, sometimes. Not good when you were posing as mortal).

„You do know him“, Wyll realized. „Tell me where I can find him.“

„He‘s disappeared“, Pertas barked, his fingers convulsing as the silver poisoning locked his muscles. „Gone… for weeks now… gone…“

„Gone? What do you mean gone?“ Wyll knelt down next to the injured spawn. „He’s a spawn, he must obey your master.“

„Got away…“ Petras writhed as best as he could, a gurgling screech of pain wrenching from his lips. „Don’t know how…“

Wyll looked at the broken, twitching body beneath him, caught Petras’ pleading gaze and nodded. „Thank you, I suppose. Wherever you go, I hope you find rest.“

Then he pinned the squirming vampire down with a boot to the throat, wrenched the stake out of his chest, then immediately brought it down again, this time to his heart.

Petras gave a full-bodied flinch, legs kicking, wheezing for air, fingers convulsing and clawing at nothing, then he lay still.

Astarion flinched away from the brutality and efficiency of it. Just one strike was all it took.

In his shock about the spawn‘s sudden end, he slipped and accidentally pushed a bottle over, which rolled onto the street, clinking merrily.

Wyll whirled around, rapier in hand, and hurried over. „Who‘s there?“

Astarion hastily retreated back around the corner, bumping into the wall. Wyll was coming for him.

Fuck.

There was no time to hide. Inside a barrel or behind a crate surely wouldn’t deter Wyll for long.

Astarion wanted to scream. Running into Wyll decidedly hadn’t been on the list of things he’d been prepared for.

Just as the tip of the silver rapier became visible around the corner, Astarion remembered that he could turn into a bat, so he did just that, from man to mist, from mist to bat in just a beat. With no one to catch him, he was forced to flap his wings to not fall to the cobbles, swiftly flitting upwards to the rooftops, where he squeezed underneath a tile.

Wyll turned the corner when he was still trying to hide, but the hunter wasn’t looking for a bat hiding near the rooftop.

„I know you’re there“, Wyll muttered. „I‘ll find you.“ He checked some crates and behind a barrel, then scanned the walls and floor. „Farcere invisibilis“, he whispered.

This time, he didn‘t uncover any terrified vampire spawn, only Korilla.

„Gods!“, Wyll exclaimed mid-jump, readying his rapier. „What the hells? Who are you!“

Korilla raised her hands. „Easy, honey. Just a fellow monster hunter“, she appeased him. „Been followin this little shit for a while.“ She cocked her head towards Petras still oozing blood on the street. „Seems you beat me to it.“

Wyll lowered his rapier, but only a bit. „I never saw you around here before. Who are you?“

„Might ask you the same thing“, she replied. „Guess we move in different circles.“ She moved around Wyll, effectively drawing the attention away from where Astarion was hiding. Then she walked over to the dead vampire spawn. „Nice work. You got anything out if this one, then?“

„You didn‘t answer my questions“, Wyll insisted. „Who are you?“

Korilla turned around and blew a handful of sand at the boy. „Somnum.“

Wyll dropped like a puppet with its strings cut and stayed on the ground, motionless.

Astarion gave an involuntary screech of agitation. Had Korilla killed him? Rude. Astarion had been asked to spare the boy, and it had nearly cost him his life.

„Relax, he’s just sleeping.“ Korilla called up to him. „It’s safe. Come on down.“

Astarion wriggled out from beneath the roof tile and flitted down to her, landing on her shoulder. He was getting the hang of this flying thing now.

„You can turn back, you know. It’s safe.“ She gently plucked him from her shoulder and set him down.

Astarion turned back into mist, then back into his elven self. He ended up sprawled on the cold cobble stones and hastily picked himself up. „He’s looking for me“, he said looking at the sleeping form of Wyll.

Korilla shrugged. „Well, you did steal from him and got caught.“

„I think it’s more than that“, Astarion muttered, but shuffled past the boy and towards Petras.

The spawn lay still, the red light gone from his eyes. True death had claimed him, severed the bond between master and spawn. Or it would have, if Petras‘ soul hadn’t been bound in the ritual.

Astarion shuddered just thinking about it. Cazador’s in undeath, and eternally doomed to some devil in his final death.

Astarion mustn’t share the same fate.

He crouched over the corpse and examined his face, which was still contorted in agony.

Petras had always loved keeping Astarion down, sometimes literally, using his superior bulk to defeat him in fights. Out of all of his siblings, Petras had been the dumbest, but also physically the strongest. He‘d been exceptionally brutal, his punches and kicks breaking bones easily.

He‘d been a slimy bastard, sucking up to Cazador at every opportunity, happily throwing them all under the bus if it meant he could have a rat all to himself.

„You damn bastard“, Astarion muttered. „You followed me to the palace that night. You forced me to the bed, you tore me open… You laughed as I bled beneath you. And you never let me forget it after Cazador turned you.“ He bared his teeth at the indifferent corpse. „I hope you burn in the hells…“

Which he was, if Astarion had understood everything correctly. Good.

Astarion stood, snarling. „Good riddance.“

„You okay?“ Korilla brushed past him, catching his gaze.

„I… I will be“, replied Astarion. „I think.“

„Aight. We can send you back to the House of Hope now. I‘ll copy his sigil.“ She nudged Petras with a boot.

Astarion looked back at Wyll softly snoring on the street. „What about him?“

„Nothing about him“, she replied easily. „He‘ll wake up in a few hours, but we’re both gonna be gone by then.“ She sighed. „I‘ll admit this was… unexpected. But hey, easier than we thought too! Now get out of here.“

„The other spawn…?“

„We‘ll get them one by one.“ Korilla handed him a small round bottle, which looked like it had smoke and fire swirling within. „This‘ll get you back to the house. Break it.“

Astarion clutched the glass, still staring at Petras. He felt strange and was unable to name the feeling gnawing at him. Weirdly, the first emotion he could discern was anger.

Out of everyone, Astarion thought he had more of a right to end Petras. Look him in the eye as he thrust the stake into his heart. Wyll killing him… that really wasn’t fair.

Astarion stood there in the rain, clutching the bottle, staring at the other spawn‘s corpse, his shoulders trembling. It just wasn’t fair.

„You okay?“ Korilla’s voice sounded from far away.

Gently her hands closed around his, still holding the bottle, as she tried getting him to look at her.

But Astarion couldn‘t tear his eyes away.

Besides the feeling of injustice, he did feel somewhat sorry for the fellow spawn‘s death. Astarion didn‘t want to feel this, it made him angry. Petras didn‘t deserve his pity. But, even after everything that had happened between them, they had both been victims of Cazador, both murdered, made into spawn, tormented and forced to use their bodies to lure unfortunate tavern goers for their master.

Stupid. Astarion was glad Petras was gone. He wished he could have done it himself. And at the same time he felt… grief.
It really didn‘t make any sense! Pathetic.

Korilla‘s voice was muffled when she spoke again: „I‘m going to touch you now, okay?“

Astarion heard himself make a weak noise of protest, but then the dwarf had taken him by the arms and pulled him down into a crouch to be at eye level with him.

Her face so close to his inevitably diverted his gaze, and the dwarf caught it expertly.
„You’re alright, sweetheart. Astarion? Look at me, please.“

The sound of his name made Astarion shudder, and he remembered the beautiful pale elf that he was. He had to get himself together, for him.
He couldn’t unravel now, not when his only chance for survival lay in continuing this ploy. In killing all of his siblings.

Astarion looked at Korilla.

„Good“, she sighed. „You with me?“

„Yes“, Astarion nodded.

„You keep saying that, but then you turn around and… whatever you do. Zone out.“

„I just… I‘m fine.“ Astarion took a shaky breath, only now realizing he had stopped breathing.

„You good to go, then? Look, I get you’re scared and angry, or whatever, but we don’t have all night. I don’t get this sigil done, we’re cooked. You’re spotted, we’re also cooked. And I‘m not keen on going down with Raphael.“

Astarion held the bottle tighter, Korilla‘s fingers warm around his. „I‘m good to go, darling.“

„Right.“ She nodded, releasing his hands. „Good. Off you go, then. And don’t scare me like that again, you stupid long man.“

That got a tired smile out of Astarion, and he rose to his feet. „See you later?“

„Probably not“, she replied. „Still got a bunch of work to do. I can come see you sometime tomorrow I think. If the boss doesn’t immediately… uh… you know… continue his work with you…“

Astarion grew cold, his scars itching. He had almost forgotten what was in store for him. Still, he had known. He has agreed despite his general lack of choice.

So he made a brave face, nodded at Korilla, and finally threw the bottle to the cobbles, shattering the glass.

Inky fire sprang up around him, engulfing him and choking out the grisly scene of the killing before him.

He reemerged in his room, staggering slightly and absentmindedly swatting at the last remnants of the fire licking at his feet.

Astarion didn‘t know what he had expected, but being alone wasn’t one of them.

Since he didn‘t feel like ordering his thoughts (it tended to complicate things), he made for the exit, but stopped short when he found the door locked.

What in the hells?

Astarion tried the door again, then fumbled in his pockets but found no lockpicks. Trapped, then. But why?

Nervously, Astarion listened at the door, trying to make out a sound in the hallway, but it was deathly quiet.

Well, now he was beginning to get anxious, pacing around in the room. It was spacious enough for him to push the memory of the tomb away, at least.

Eventually, he decided for the bed and one of the books Raphael had given him. He had only checked the one so far, and he needed to get his mind off Petras, Wyll, the looming carving of his back, and the reason he was locked in his room.

Unfortunately, he found the detailed biological scetches of bats incredibly boring, so his thoughts kept spinning, chasing one another, and his worry grew.

Pointedly, Astarion kept his gaze fixed on the page. It wouldn’t do him any good to fuss. A few hours passed this way, Astarion gloomily staring at the book and stewing in his thoughts, trying to tell himself to remain calm.

But why in the sweet hells was he locked in?

Ugh!

Astarion tossed the book aside and went to look for something small and pointy.
Was picking the lock going to get him into trouble? Most likely.

But if Astarion was going to be cut open again anyway, might as well make a point about how he wouldn’t be confined for no reason.

Astarion quickly found a decorative letter opener and got to work on the lock. It was difficult, the tool too big for the intricate keyhole.

So, Astarion sat and kept trying, wriggling the letter opener in hopes of sliding the locking mechanism aside.

He jumped when loud, angry steps came stonping towards his room, glass and wood shattering and breaking noisily. It sounded like a giant was running through the hallway.

An icy aura settled over Astarion as the monster (it couldn’t be anything else) came closer.

„What are you hiding in here?“ It was the icy death voice he had only heard once before. That bone shattering growl, that voice, sharp and cutting like razor icicles, like frozen corpses being ground to dust, making him shudder in discomfort. His blood suddenly felt like it was freezing solid.

Raphael replied slowly, softly, but with a tremble in his voice. „My pet, father. Nothing more. Now, if you would listen to me…“

There was a sharp bang as the creature slammed a fist into the door.

The dark solid wood splintered, and Astarion had to bite back a squeal. Quickly, for the second time today, he changed into mist and then a bat, flitting towards the chandelier as fast as he could, convinced his life depended on successfully hiding in the ceiling crack.

Then the door splintered apart, debris and splinters flying across the room. And in the midst of that flurry of dust and projectiles, the owner of the glacier death voice entered the room.

It was a devil double the size of Raphael, skin a dark greyish blue, eyes burning gold in black. That was where Astarion‘s mind stopped functioning properly. It hurt just looking at the creature, whose anatomy defied all logic. There were wings, sometimes, and multiple arms, flexing fingers each equipped with hooked twitching claws. The creature was on fire, then it wasn’t. It looked solid as a glacier, then impossibly shifted into something else, equally terrible.

Astarion, meanwhile, was still dangling from the chandelier by his tiny claws, trying to get his legs up there so he could start climbing, but the chandelier was swinging and shaking from the impacts the door had taken.

The unimaginable ice demon spotted him struggling near the ceiling, and chuckled. „A pet, indeed!“

It pointed, and suddenly Astarion found himself in the creatures grip, huge fingers so cold it hurt.

The creature chuckled in triumph, holding Astarion aloft, who was frozen in dumbfounded horror, stomach flipping with vertigo because of how his body had been displaced onto the monster’s grip. The intense cold manifested as pain ripping through him hard enough to make his vision blur.

Behind the creature, he heard Raphael gasp in what sounded like genuine fear.

So, Astarion was doomed.
Fuck.

Chapter Text

Once Astarion had had enough time to fully realize what had happened, he screeched in terror, flapping his wings in an attempt to get away, but the death ice monster squeezed him so hard he felt his bones creak, so he held still. He couldn’t look at it. Where its face should have been, there was… something else that made Astarion feel dizzy and sick to his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping who- or whatever this thing was, it wouldn’t harm him.

„Such a tiny creature, for such a big room“, it observed.

From somewhere behind it, Raphael muttered: „I merely wanted to give it some space to fly. Give it here, father.“

Three heavy steps reached Astarion’s ears, deep crunching noises of frozen debris shifting and shattering beneath the glacial force of the creature. „You take me for a fool, son“, it accused the devil. „A pet bat? I should think not.“

It spoke in infernal, then. A sharp short commanding word that slid over Astarion like a death rattle.

Nothing happened.

The creature lifted Astarion closer to its face, now holding him flat on his hand. Astarion just lay there, covering his face with one wing so he wouldn’t have to look at the terrible ice creature. His body shook so violently that he feared he might accidentally launch himself off the now open palm.

„You speak true.“ The voice sounded surprised, or as surprised as a splintering glacier could. „A pet, then. How peculiar.“

„Yes“, replied Raphael warily. Astarion thought he heard a tremble in his voice, an intake of breath as if he meant to say more but stopped himself just in time.

The creature was silent for a moment, cold gusts of air ruffling Astarion‘s fur as it examined him closely. Its breath should have stunk, but was as odourless as a blizzard. „It is quite small. What does it do?“

„Nothing, father. I keep it for… for my enjoyment. A distraction, that’s all.“

Astarion dared a peak towards where he heard the devil’s voice, but all he saw was the mass of the incomprehensible body of the… thing holding him. Quickly he curled up again, his body aching with the sharp bite of the immense cold radiating from the creature. Astarion wondered if he could freeze to death.

„I might take it“, hissed the monster. „If it brings such enjoyment.“ He spat the last word, fingers curling around Astarion again.

Astarion squealed, trying to curl in on himself to protect himself from the cold. Maybe he heard Raphael call out from somewhere far away, but he couldn’t make it out over the crackling noise of icy fingers closing around him.

Then the hand suddenly grew smaller, warmer, its grip slackening.

Astarion blinked tiny tears out of his beady eyes and looked. Had Raphael taken him back somehow?

But no. He was now in the grip of a terrifyingly beautiful man, tall and lean, muscles flexing beneath dark blue skin. But those burning gold in black eyes were the same as Raphael’s. This was still that creature, shifted into a human-like shape.

He was no taller than an average human man like this, not imposing on his own, but his aura hadn’t suffered any effects from the sudden transformation.

It made the figure even more terrifying.
The man (monster? creature? demon?) looked at Raphael, Astarion still in hand. „Speak, then. Let’s see what you have to say.“

Raphael’s eyes quickly flicked over to Astarion, then back. „My best warlock spotted the Ravengard boy disposing of one of the spawn. I should assume he is behind this.“

„Ravengard?“ The man laughed, cold and high. Astarion cowered beneath the noise like physical punches. „Then he shall die, and I shall have my prize after all.“

„There… might be several complications, father. We have reason to believe he is involved in a contract of his own. And he might not… deliberately be meddling.“

With an unnaturally echoing snarl, the man lowered his arm, holding Astarion by his side now. „How tiresome. But it is a lead. For once, you don’t disappoint me.“

Raphael sighed almost imperceptibly. „Thank you, father.“

„Is it because of this creature? This pet? You care for it, yes? I cannot fathom why, but… I see you do.“ The man lifted Astarion again. „Then you shall have it back“, he continued. „As a reward.“

He said „reward“, but Astarion understood it for the threat it was. If Raphael displeased him, Astarion would be taken and probably killed.

Raphael carefully accepted the tiny, quivering heap that was Astarion, shielding him with both hands. It was hot and dark in the small cage the devil had created for Astarion, and he collapsed into it, gratefully warming himself up.

He was safe here. He’d rather be cooped up here than be exposed in the cold clinging to this terrifying creature.

„I shall send my warlocks to investigate Ravengard“, said the man icily. „Raphael. I will say this for the last time: If you ever try to keep anything from me, you’ll end up in my dungeons. You can’t imagine the things I‘ll do to you. Your life is worth less than nothing, cambion!“ The voice had descended into a hateful hoarse hiss. „Though if you serve me well, you may keep your life, and this pitiful house.“ There was a scoff. „And even this pet of yours.“

Raphael’s hands were shaking. „Father“, he replied. „Yes. I won’t disappoint you.“

„Your very existence disappoints.“

And with that, there was a sharp crackle, then silence.

The room warmed up again.

Astarion stared at the dark red of Raphael’s palms still caging him protectively, and released a tiny shaky squeak.

„He‘s gone“, whispered Raphael. „Astarion…“ He opened his hands and quickly examined Astarion. „Are you unharmed?“

Astarion‘s skin was still stinging from frostburn, but it seemed not to have done any real damage.

„Good. I thought…“ The relief on his face made him look much younger. „Good. Very good, little mouse. If you don’t mind, stay like this, will you? For a little longer. He might still return.“

Astarion nodded and inched up the devil’s arm to settle on his shoulder.

Raphael was shaking as he began moving down the hallway.

Only now the destruction wrought by the ice death creature became apparent. The monster had smashed through the opulent furniture and decorations, vases and mirrors shattered, plumes of ice climbing the walls.
The creature must have been in more of a rage than Astarion had seen.

Still shaking, he nuzzled into Raphael’s neck and hair, greedily stealing some of his heat.
The devil absentmindedly reached up to pet him with one finger.

It was comforting after the sudden pain and fear, not to mention the manhandling, and Astarion leaned into it with all his tiny weight.

Raphael turned his head a little, but kept walking rather briskly.

Eventually, he settled in his office, summoning a new chair, because his old one had been smashed against the ceiling, where it still stuck, splintered wood and cushions frozen in a block of ice shards.

Astarion was staring even when Raphael offered a hand for him to crawl on. He meant to put Astarion down, but he’d much prefer staying here where it was warm and he could easily hide in his hair.

„Come, pet.“ He twitched his fingers impatiently. „Don’t make me grab you. There’s only so much patience I have.“

Begrudgingly, Astarion inched away from Raphael‘s neck and crawled onto his palm. He had questions, loads of them, that he couldn’t ask in this form.

The devil used his free hand to clear some frozen clutter off the desk, then he put Astarion down on a stack of books.

„I assume you have questions.“ Raphael ran a hand through his face. „I‘ll answer the first ones outright: Yes, this devil you just met is my father. And yes.“ He sighed. „He’s the one your former master made his deal with. I‘m supposed to help him capture you back“, he conceded with a humourless chuckle. „He is eager for this feast of souls, which we are delaying. He‘s received two of the key spawn so far, but with you missing, the ritual is on hold. Do you understand now, pet?“ His hands clasped the armrests tightly enough to make the wood creak. „He already suspects me of meddling. We can’t afford wasting time and wait for him to find out what I… what we are trying to do.“ He calmed with a deep breath. „Today was too close, pet. Much too close. If you hadn’t turned in time… if he had thought to check you for more than illusions… you‘d be on his altar now as we speak, and your old master… ascended.“

Astarion was reeling. Yes he had wanted answers, but this was quite a lot to take in.

His confusion and panic must have been clear even on his bat face, because Raphael folded his arms on the table and leaned down to him. „You’ve done well today, Astarion. Both with your mission and your quick thinking with my father. I need some time to work on how to alter your sigil further, without him realising. Perhaps we shall do one alteration only, after we found the other four spawn.“

Well. That would be a relief. Astarion sighed. No cutting into him today.

„I‘ll consider it“, Raphael said with one hand raised. „In the meantime, we might collect yet more of your siblings‘ sigils. Only four left.“ He tapped his lower lip with one finger. „Mentioning Ravengard to my father was… risky. But he‘ll serve as a distraction, I hope. It‘ll buy us more time. Another of my warlocks is keeping an eye on the boy as we speak.“

Maybe, if Astarion just stayed a bat forever, Raphael would just spill all his secrets and plans.

The devil slowly blinked at him. „I wanted to grant you a bit of time off, little mouse. But showing yourself outside my house would be ill-advised, now that the search for you has likely intensified.“

Astarion had no issue staying in the House as long as it was safe. But was it?

He gave a squeak and pointed at the shattered armchair frozen to the ceiling.

Frowning, Raphael followed his gesture, took a moment to think, and nodded. „True, I cannot bar my father from accessing this house. But his warlocks are barred from entry, as is his entire court. In addition, I am warned before his arrival by a few seconds at least.“

Astarion closed his mouth. Oh well. That was nice to know.

Sighing, the devil leaned back in his newly summoned chair. „Today was too close. We can’t afford losing any more time.“ He seemed to come to a decision. „I must continue my work immediately.“

Astarion squealed as the devil sat up straighter, then he decided he’d been a bat long enough for today. He changed back without giving Raphael an opportunity to stop him, and ended up sitting on the desk facing the devil.

„Hold on! Immediately?“

„Yes. In the meantime, I want you to go to the dungeons and pick one of my prisoners to drain. As a reward.“

Astarion blinked. „But… You’re just going to keep going? After all that?“

„Especially after all that“, snarled the devil, making Astarion flinch. „There is no time. Tomorrow night, you‘ll leave with Korilla again for your other siblings. Perhaps we can catch more than one.“

Astarion scoffed. „You hardly need me to lure anyone out, darling. The Ravengard boy caught Petras all on his own.“

„True!“, Raphael said. „I expected your old master to be more mindful of his remaining slaves. Although I expect he will be more cautious now that two have already been killed, and you are missing.“

„Oh, and what about Ravengard? You do know he’s looking for me, specifically.“

„He‘s said as much“, Raphael agreed. „And Korilla dealt with him, hasn’t she?“

Astarion sighed, knowing there really was no arguing with that. „But you said he was in a contract of his own?“

„I did. But I fail to see how this is of relevance to you.“ The devil was growling by now, eyes darkening. „I strongly suggest, pet, not to keep pestering me.“

„Do you… do you know who he’s serving?“ Astarion could almost see the thread
of Raphael’s patience pulled taught, dangerously close to snapping. But he refused to be kept in the dark, refused to not voice his concerns.

„No, but I have my suspicions. Not someone involved with the ritual.“ Raphael bared his teeth at him, tail lashing. „So, as I told you, of no relevance. Now, will you let me work?“

Unhappily Astarion watched the devil, contemplating whether he wanted to risk taking this discussion further. After his two near death experiences today, he was thrumming with adrenaline, itching to get his teeth into something, but he’d rather it be Raphael than some poor sod in the dungeons.

He decided for honesty (he wasn’t supposed to lie). „I want to stay with you“, he said. „I believe I‘ve earned that much.“

Raphael’s jaw flexed. „You seem to be unaware of how distracting you are, pet.“

„Well, good“, Astarion leaned back on the desk, lifting his chin in defiance. Raphael liked him provocative.

Fast as a snake, Raphael seized him
by the waist and yanked him closer, standing up from his chair at the same time, crotch to crotch with Astarion now.

With Raphael between his legs now, pinned down on the desk, Astarion had no room to get leverage and even attempt to struggle, but this… was exactly where he wanted to be, he found. Still wrestling down his shock, Astarion looked up at the devil.

„If you’re that desperate for attention“, Raphael snarled. „Perhaps I shall take an hour or so to finally make true on my threats.“ He leaned down to Astarion until they were nose to nose. „And punish you for your continued disobedience. I‘ll see this as an investment.“

Astarion, regrettably loving having Raphael between his legs, swallowed thickly. He couldn’t argue that he didn’t deserve some form of punishment after everything he had allowed himself with the devil. Cazador would have whipped him raw many times over.

„Go ahead“, Astarion growled, seizing Raphael’s arms.

Disbelief flicked over Raphael’s face, and was quickly replaced with rage. He snapped his fangs, tail lashing in agitation, gripping Astarion tight enough to draw blood. „It would be too easy to break you. But since I still need you.“ He grabbed Astarion by the hair and exposed his throat. „Perhaps you have ideas on punishment? Something that would set in but not damage you beyond repair.“

Forced to look at the ceiling, Astarion could only hold on to the devil and wait for whatever he had in store for him.

„No ideas at all?“, Raphael growled, face lowering to just over his neck.

Astarion was shaking with a confusing mix of arousal and fear. Even knowing Raphael wouldn’t kill or seriously hurt him, surely a devil‘s creativity knew no bounds.

But oh, having Raphael on top of him was exactly what he needed to calm his troubled thoughts. He wanted, needed to forget about the looming forces warring over his fate, just for a few moments. To be the center of the devil’s attention, even if it meant he’d be hurt (stupid, stupid pathetic little boy that he was).

Interrupting the intense silence between them, the door opened, and Haarlep entered the room, wearing Raphael’s guise as usual.

„Finally he’s gone. Ugh, look at this mess, he‘s really…“ They stopped seeing Astarion pinned beneath Raphael on the desk. „Ah, mh.“ They cleared their throat. „I suppose I‘ll be going, then.“

Raphael grinned. „Stay, Haarlep, if you please.“ He glanced down at Astarion, then back at the incubus. „Come here.“

Astarion, still pinned and held by the hair, shuddered as he felt Raphael grip him tighter. Now what? He‘d really rather not have Haarlep here to witness whatever Raphael was going to do to him.

The devil leaned even further down, his lips ghosting over Astarion’s ear. „Consider this a warning. I am not above really hurting you. I‘ll have you fear me before I continue to allow your childish insolence.“

Before Astarion had the chance to reply, the devil released him, but kept his grip on his hair, dragging him off the table.

Hissing, Astarion scrambled to get to his feet, but Raphael all but threw him across the room, where Haarlep caught him.

The incubus immediately gripped him tightly, pulling him flush to their body despite Astarion’s protests.

„Get the hells off me!“, he snarled, fighting Haarlep’s grip.

The incubus was grinning down at him, Raphael’s face on them twisting in excitement. „What should I do with him, master?“, they growled, tail wildly thrashing with glee, wings quivering.

Raphael considered the question for a moment, then he replied: „You may kiss him.“

„No!“ Astarion lashed out at his captor, snarling and writhing in their grip as Haarlep laughed in overjoyed, triumphant surprise.

Then they gripped him by the hair and dipped his head back, leaning down with him. Surely they looked like a smitten couple on some saucy cheap novel, except that Astarion struggled with all his might.

The incubus was so strong they could easily manhandle Astarion in whatever way they wished, no matter his protests or fight.

But Astarion quite quickly ran out of steam. Haarlep’s scent, sweet and cloying, befuddled him into giving in to them, into giving himself… and everything to them. But still he resisted.

Haarlep chuckled. „Are you certain you want to keep fighting me? I might have to hurt you don’t let me have a taste.“

„Fuck you!“, Astarion spat, then swiftly closed his mouth when Haarlep leaned in.

Behind him, Raphael chuckled. „You can hurt him, Haarlep. Just don’t overdo it.“

Astarion shuddered, trying to straighten up to gain some leverage on the incubus, but they didn‘t allow it.

Instead, they used their long tail to sweep Astarion’s feet out from under him, and smashed him to the floor. It happened too fast for Astarion to react. He hit the ground so hard that he was seeing stars for a few crucial moments, unable to even try stopping Haarlep, whose hot strong hands closed around his head now, one holding him still, and one squeezing his cheeks, fingers digging into his jaw, forcing Astarion’s mouth open.

With their entire weight, Haarlep had his body pinned, their hands on his face, primed to give him their dreaded kiss.

They were so strong. Keeping him almost immobile with only their physical strength seemed less than child‘s play to them.

A muffled noise between a plea and an insult escaped him, but Haarlap didn‘t slow down. With their mouth open, they crashed into him with a force that was almost violent, their teeth clicking against Astarion’s, tongue entering his mouth immediately, tasting him, claiming him, dominating him.
Their saliva was thick with sweet venom, an excess of it flowing from their tongue to his. They were actively injecting him with it.

Astarion clawed at them in revulsion and fear, pushing, scratching, kicking, but Haarlep only weighed all the heavier on him. He tried biting them, biting their unnaturally long tongue clean off, but they still held his jaw open with one skilled hand. As if they had done that before.

Within one single second, the venom took effect. Astarion stopped fighting, melting beneath the incubus, his hands caressing them, holding them close instead of clawing and beating. He couldn’t help it.

This second, he was aware that he was being drugged, that he didn‘t want this, that he was about to be abused in the most horrific way.

The next, he was out of his mind with need. Any sense of injustice or reluctance, panic, fear, passed. Any sense at all, gone. Drowned in a tidal wave of desire so intense it hurt.

Helplessly, he bucked up into the incubus with as little movement as he was allowed, his hands tangling in their hair, his mouth returning their kiss with frevour.

The kiss seemed to go on forever. Astarion’s eyes rolled back as the incubus venom flowed from Haarlep’s mouth into his. Its taste was all he wanted. Better than blood, better than any memory he had of food or drink.

Haarlep had to hold him back in order to stop him from ripping their clothes off. With laughable ease, they flipped him over and twisted his arms onto his back, perching on top of him, out of reach, like a triumphant vulture.

Astarion writhed as well as he was able to, but only earned himself a painful squeeze of the wrists. He moaned, desperate for anything the incubus would give them, anything at all.

A chuckle. „The things I want to do to you…“

„Don’t“, Raphael replied. „Chain him up. Make sure he can’t touch himself.“ He summoned a chain and handed it to the incubus. His foot lingered just beside Astarion’s face, shifting, as if considering to step on him.

Astarion keened, trying to inch closer, desperate for any kind of physical contact. There was a fire inside him, threatening to consume him, burn him to ashes, if someone didn‘t touch him this very instant.

Raphael walked past him, his tail swaying close enough for Astarion to feel an echo of his heat.

With a tug, Haarlep pulled him out of reach of the devil, and Astarion, moaning and panting like a bitch in heat, twisted to get them to touch him more.

With a knee to his back, the incubus pinned him down, closing the iron cuffs around his wrists, then moved on to his legs. Astarion almost went wild when they absentmindedly ran both hands over the curve if his ass, then smartly tied his ankles together.

Haarlep pulled him upright by the back of his collar, winding the chain tightly around his body, making any movement absolute agony. Then they picked him up and simply hung him from a hook in the wall, like someone would a painting.

They then stepped back to admire their work, Astarion panting and writhing in despair, barely able to move, aching for any sort of physical contact with anyone at all.

Astarion was so hard it was agony, and he bucked into the empty air to pursue the slight friction of his clothing. His body was on fire. He wanted to tear himself open, to rip himself apart, to dig his fingers into hot flesh and feel claws and teeth on him.

He could smell the devil’s and his incubus‘ arousal, practically taste the salt on their skin, his head heavy with their musk - Raphael like smoke, sap and cherries, Haarlep like the sweetest blood, velvety smooth citrus and a hint of sulfur.

Raphael cocked his head, raking his eyes over Astarion’s body. „Perfect. I might just keep you this way.“

Haarlep pouted, their head cocked the other way. „Aw, you really won’t let me play with him for a bit more? The things I could do to him…“

„This is a punishment, Haarlep. Not an opportunity for you to get your fill“, replied Raphael smoothly.

„You’re just… leaving him there?“ Haarlep‘s tail lashed from side to side.

„Oh, yes.“ Raphael crossed his arms and smirked as Astarion moaned and shuddered. „He‘s earned it.“

„This IS delicious“, agreed the incubus.

„Yes“, Raphael replied, still drinking in the sight of Astarion, hard, helpless and nearly crying with need. „Isn’t he just?“

The chains were digging into his flesh, searing hot, but the pain was nothing compared to what the desire did to him. It felt like a monster, hungry, starving, and beginning to eat him. The gnawing sensation more than compared to the hunger and despair he had known for most of his life. It demanded to be fed, or he‘d succumb to it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think anything past the desire to be touched. He‘d take anything the devils would give him and thank them on his knees.

He was distantly aware he was shivering, dripping with sweat from his exertion, but he couldn’t care.
A shaky moan tumbled from his lips. „Please… please…! Gods…!“

His words were barely distinguishable even to him, saliva pooling in his mouth as the devil’s scent hit and overwhelmed his senses.

„M… Master, please…“ He sobbed, unable to hold back, legs twitching in an attempt to stimulate himself.

„Hm“, was all Raphael said, mouth twitching.

Astarion wailed as he turned away and stepped back to the desk.

The devil sat down and opened a book, fingers reaching for a quill. „Leave us, Haarlep. I am not to be disturbed.“

Haarlep, their tail still lashing with unbridled excitement, whirled around to their master. „Oh, but I‘ll be quiet at a mouse, promise! Please? I can’t miss this!“

Raphael froze, slowly looking back over his shoulder.

Astarion did his best getting the devil’s attention, twisting in the chains again, and groaning as they cut into his arms and ribs.

Raphael’s gaze slid over to him, then he turned back to his paperwork. „As you wish. Muzzle him, Haarlep. Use whatever you like.“

The incubus grinned, outright giggling with excitement as they summoned a leather gag with a heavy looking ball to their hands.

Astarion stared at it, and all he could think about was that he was finally about to be touched.

When Haarlep approached, he opened his mouth wide, anticipating the comforting weight of the ball between his teeth, the caress of hard leather against his cheeks. Surely it would leave him chafed and raw, but Astarion wanted it, needed it.

Anything, anything, please…!, the words kept spinning in his head, almost faster than he could comprehend.

When Haarlep roughly grasped him by the hair, he heard himself panting like a dog, open mouthed, waiting for the muzzle like it was a treat to be savoured.

The leather-clad ball was pushed into his mouth more gently than Astarion had expected, forcing his jaw to open uncomfortably wide. Astarion moaned into it, mouth watering as the bitter taste of the material seeped into his tongue. Saliva began dripping off the ball and onto the floor.

Haarlep smirked at him, so close he could feel their heat, but impossible to touch. With clever fingers, they secured the leather straps on the back of his head, pulling them tight enough for Astarion to squeal in pain as his jaws were forced open even wider, the strap cutting into his cheeks and lips.

With his mouth open and lips forcefully pulled back, Astarion could no longer swallow or form words. He gagged (huh, he thought he’d lost the need to do that), but still turned his head into Haarlep‘s hand, whimpering as he felt their touch linger near the point of his ear.

Haarlep gave him a knowing grin and took it between his thumb and pointer finger. „Quiet, now.“ Then they began to rub the pointed tip of his ear, warm fingers finding the right spot in a beat.

Astarion bit into the gag, fangs extending and painfully digging deep into whatever the ball was made of beneath the leather. It felt like wood. He gave a full-body jerk of pleasure, a shaky keening sound escaping past the gag.

„Shhh“, Haarlep cooed, adding their free hand to his other ear, pinching, then rubbing it just so.

Astarion howled, overwhelmed, twisting in his chains to touch the incubus.

Raphael turned. „Did you not understand the purpose of this punishment, Haarlep? Get off him, now!“, he shouted irritably.

„Juuuust making sure the straps are sitting right!“, Haarlep sing-songed joyfully. They didn‘t stop rubbing, not yet, driving Astarion into another muffled scream of pleasure, eyes rolling back, body shivering.

Just as Raphael got up to remove the incubus, Haarlep stepped back. „There! Nice and tight.“ They raised their hands innocently. „I didn’t do anything, master, really!“

Astarion was still moaning into the gag, coming down from his high, out of his mind with need. He raised his gaze to Raphael. Surely, if anyone could grant him salvation, it would be him…

„Please“, he wanted to say, but nothing but an undignified broken sort of noise managed to squeeze past the gag. „I‘m sorry! Please! Please, I need you! Master, please!“

It didn‘t matter that his words were garbled beyond understanding, that he was choking on his own excess saliva, that he was hanging from the wall, a feast for two deadly devils who held all the power over him.

Astarion begged and pleaded as his body convulsed with mindless need that turned into pain, as the devils watched him struggle. Tears soon dripped down his cheeks, and he shuddered with great heaving sobs.

Raphael returned to his paperwork, and Haarlep sat down right on the floor before Astarion, openly drinking in his lust, his suffering, and the mere sight of him.

They were quiet as a mouse, keen not to be thrown out, their eyes gleaming with excitement over Astarion’s situation.

It took a few hours for the worst effects of the incubus venom to wear off. It left Astarion able to think of something other than his need to be touched, although the pain of being left alone and unable to even touch himself was still agony.

He was able to remember how he had ended up like this. His argument with Raphael. Challenging him. Why, why, why the hells had he done that? He had practically asked to be hurt.

He whimpered into the muzzle, which hurt his jaw and face so much he didn‘t think it would ever go back to normal again. His fangs, still buried deep in the leather-clad ball, were aching.

Haarlep cocked their head as Astarion shifted in discomfort, hissing as the chains dug yet deeper into his skin. „Master? He‘s coming out of it, I think.“

„Let him.“ Raphael didn‘t look up.

„We still have a few hours. He‘d do anything just to get a touch.“ They turned their head for their master. „You‘re sure you don’t want to make good use of his submission?“

„I am“, replied the devil in a clipped voice.

„Don’t you think he’s had enough?“, Haarlep turned around, still sitting on the ground. „I thought you still needed him.“

„I do“, Raphael said. „And he‘ll be fine.“

Haarlep glanced back to Astarion. „It’s going to take a lot, master“, they said solemnly. „Sobering out alone. You do need him sober, don’t you?“

Finally, Raphael turned to stare down his incubus. „Haarlep, what is this?“

„Nothing, it’s just…!“

„If you’re worried so about him, I‘ll make you join him.“

„Don’t threaten me with a good time“, Haarlep replied, unimpressed. „I‘m serious, master. He’s done. Look at him.“

Astarion did his best nodding along, making muffled sounds around his gag.

But Raphael didn‘t look, staring down his incubus instead. „This is rather the point, Haarlep.“ His gaze very briefly flicked up to Astarion, then he smirked back at Haarlep. „But you just gave me an idea, my dear.“

They stiffened, rising to their feet. „I don’t like this tone. This tone is never good!“, they shouted.

Raphael grinned yet wider. „A proposition for you. If Astarion‘s relief matters this much to you, you can grant it to him. But only if you hurt him first. I want this punishment to sink in, properly.“

The incubus flared their wings, snarling, but when they spoke, their voice was velvety smooth, a perfect mirror of their master. „This isn’t in my contract. You can’t make me torture him.“

„I can’t make you“, Raphael agreed. „It’s your choice, Haarlep.“

The incubus looked at Astarion‘s miserable form, their tail lashing with anger. When they adressed Raphael, their voice was laced with venom. „If I do this, you’ll relieve him?“

„In my way“, the devil replied vaguely, still smiling.

„No. None of this“, Haarlep hissed, crossing their arms. „I want to know the terms. The exact terms.“

Raphael looked a bit surly, tail twitching in irritation. „I‘m not giving them. Take my offer, or leave it. I have work to do.“

Haarlep growled, betraying their true nature as very much not a refined cambion, but an entirely different kind of predator. Wilder, more primal. They began to pace, stopping every once in a while looking either resolved, or resigned, before continuing their march.

Raphael didn‘t show any reaction to Haarlep‘s pacing, their growling, and Astarion‘s continued garbled gasps and pleas. His tail, however, was swaying gently in a languid rhythm.

When Haarlep stopped and their gaze turned to Astarion, their eyes were dark with grim intent.

Astarion muttered into the gag, hoping they’d touch him. He could take the pain, the could take anything, he just needed something!

Haarlep came right up to him, reaching for his face, to gently pet his hair and cheeks. Then they seized him around the neck and dislodged him from the wall.

Astarion couldn’t help but moan with relief as the pressure of the chains ceased somewhat, but then he was thrown to the polished marble floor with enough force to make his head spin.

The sound escaping past the gag was a raw, shocked sort of yell as all the air was expelled from Astarion‘s lungs. He struggled for a breath, only for Haarlep to immediately strike him with something that felt like a multi-tailed whip.

The pain hit him harder than he had expected, amplified by his heightened sensitivity, jolts of agony flooding every inch of him like ice.

Astarion‘s choked scream was abruptly cut off when the second strike descended. He coughed and gagged as the pain sharply bloomed all across his back and arms, then screamed when the whip came down again.

Haarlep struck again, and continued for several minutes, barely giving Astarion a moment to catch his breath or gather his thoughts, the whip spilling them from his head every other second.

In his severely befuddled state, the pain ignited pleasure, somehow. An unnatural connection forged by the incubus venom coursing through his veins.

Astarion screamed. For more, for it to stop, he didn‘t know. For both. For Haarlep, who was finally near him, finally giving him something. It didn‘t matter anymore that it was pain.

His shirt yielded before his skin did, revealing black and purple bruises blooming all over his arms, back, sides, and legs.

Haarlep was panting, but they didn‘t let up, or slow down. Eventually, they shouted: „Twenty!“ The blow sent Astarion sprawling, his head striking the ground. „Count down with me, sweetling, yes?“

Astarion shuddered. Twenty more, and them he‘d have relief. He could do that, but he was still muzzled.

So, he muttered as best as he was able: „Twenty…“

The incubus struck again. „Nineteen!“, and Astarion said the number as well (Nnnthee…). „Well done. Keep going, sweetling. Let us hear you.“

It went on, strike by agonizing strike, the pain both excruciating and sweetest bliss.

Astarion finally uttered the last number, signalling the end of the torture, and the beginning of his release.

Shivering and twitching, he stirred and looked up at Haarlep, who instead had their eyes fixed on Raphael.

The devil was examining him, looking down his nose to estimate the extent of his suffering. The corner of his mouth was twitching as he softly inhaled the scent of Astarion‘s lust.

Finally, the devil spoke, the somber tenor of his voice sending shudders down Astarion‘s spine. „Well done, Haarlep. Come here, to me.“

Wearily, the incubus came closer, tail briefly brushing Astarion’s leg.

„Change to him“, growled Raphael. „And get on the desk.“

Haarlep hesitated, their lip curling, hand tightening on the whip.

„Now!“, Raphael shouted heatedly. „Or I shall count this as breach of contract. Pleasing me very much IS part of your contract.“

Haarlep bared their teeth at him, staring their master down as their form shimmered and shifted into Astarion‘s smaller pale form.

Astarion mewled into the gag as it dawned on him: Raphael wasn’t done with his punishment just yet.

The devil would relieve him, but not touch him, not give him what he really craved.

Snapping away all their clothes, the devil smirked, measured steps walking past Astarion as he led the incubus to the desk and violently threw them down.

Astarion felt the impact on his cheekbone, his ribs and hipbone, and he gave a muffled groan. Dear gods he was about to feel everything. Not just the pleasure, but every bit of the pain as well.

As he felt the ghost of Raphael’s hot strong hand close around the back of his neck, the devil looked back at him. „If you manage to get over here, I might include you. Go on, little mouse.“

Then the devil turned around and grasped Haarlep around the slender waist, clawed thumbs digging into their flesh.
Astarion flinched and hissed, reflexively twisting and turning his head to assess the damage when the pain sharply bloomed on own waist. But there was no trace of the claws, not on him.

Then, Raphael violently unleashed himself upon his incubus, and all Astarion could do was scream.

Chapter Text

Raphael had been violent on Haarlep, and Astarion by proxy, but he had been quick.

As Raphael slammed himself into his incubus one final time, Astarion cried into his gag, his entire body convulsing with the pain of the devil’s assault.

At first, he had tried getting closer to be involved directly, but he was still hog-tied and bruised beyond belief, and then there was the painful and disconcerting sensation of being fucked bloody. So, Astarion had quickly given in and just curled in on himself, trying to ride it out.

With incubus venom still in his system, even this brutal treatment wasn’t entirely bad, and he was brought to his climax several times, until that became painful as well.

Groaning, Raphael retreated and released Haarlep, who collapsed to the floor, shivering and trying to catch their breath.

„Got…“ Haarlep panted with Astarion‘s voice. „Got it out of your system?“

„Quiet“, Raphael snarled, stepping past them. „Leave us.“

Haarlep hissed, changing their form to the pinkish creature they favoured when they were alone.

It felt like a full-body vice being removed, as all the pain of the injuries inflicted by Raphael was lifted from Astarion, all in an instant. Leaving him with only the memory of the assault.

Astarion involuntarily groaned as a good portion (not all of it. He had been whipped too) fell away.

As Haarlep limped from the room, Raphael came over to him, grabbed him by the side of his gag, and lifted him off the floor.

„There. All done.“ He smiled at Astarion’s defeated look, then hooked a claw beneath the leather strap to severed it. When he moved on to try and take the ball from his mouth, they found that Astarion had bitten down so hard his fangs were hopelessly stuck. He tugged at the ball, making Astarion gasp and whimper around the ball, his fangs aching. „I‘d break them“, said the devil matter-of-factly. „If I didn’t think you’d suffered enough for today.“

Gently, the devil put Astarion down and bent over him. He snapped his fingers and vanished the gag, leaving Astarion free to close his mouth and say something, but he did neither.

His jaws were locked open. He couldn’t move them at all.

„Aw“, said Raphael sweetly. Then he closed his hand around Astarion’s face, and, with a jerk, snapped Astarion’s jaw shut.

Astarion gave a muffled scream, thrashing against the devil, but he was held down. The pain quickly subsided, leaving Astarion dizzy, scared, but grateful.

„There. Now it’s all done“, purred Raphael, bending down to him. „Now tell me: Did the lesson sink in?“

Hastily, Astarion nodded.

„That’s good“, cooed the devil. „Do keep it in mind. One more thing, pet, that I‘ll admit to you: You were right. I‘ll try finding your siblings without putting you out there. I can’t lose you. And they might well be easier to spot than I have believed. So, you’ll remain here, at my side, as safe as you can be.“ He kissed Astarion’s sweaty forehead, then wiped the tears, saliva and blood off his cheeks. „You’re perfect like this“, he remarked. „I should have done this sooner. Hm, but we both know you’re going to keep snapping at me, aren’t you? You‘ll keep pushing my buttons, yes, because this“, he squeezed Astarion’s aching cheeks, „is what you need.“

Astarion had only wanted some attention. To get his mind off his potential eternal doom. To make a case for himself… Raphael had even told him he had been correct…

But Astarion dared not speak up again.

Raphael stroked his cheek like a lover might, then snapped his fingers again and vanished Astarion’s chains.

While Astarion cumbersomely tried moving his arms and legs into a more comfortable position, Raphael picked him up and carried him out of the office and into the boudoir, where he put him on the bed.

Astarion made a weak noise of protest and tried getting up, but Raphael promptly lay next to him and pulled him close to his chest, his warm breath tousling his hair as his hands stroked the scars on Astarion’s back.
„You’ll thank me for this, pet. I took my extremely precious time to teach you a long overdue lesson.“

Astarion bit back a shaky sob.

„Oh“, Raphael muttered into his hair. „That’s sweet.“

Astarion never found out what the devil was talking about, because he rather suddenly slipped into unconsciousness. He only felt Raphael pull him closer to his searing chest, his tail curling around his ankle, before his awareness was snuffed out.

He was kissed awake by impossibly warm lips, and he stirred, flinching when the countless bruises and cuts screamed for attention.

„Here, drink.“ His head was guided up, until his lips were flush with a strong wrist.

Still struggling to open his eyes, Astarion groaned, teeth itching but not biting down.

Raphael pressed his wrist against his lips. „Drink, pet.“

Astarion knew the order for what it was, however gentle, and he bit down, his jaws aching.

The devil’s blood hit him like a shockwave, jolting him fully awake like lightning, burning in his mouth and stomach, the taste like heaven and hell, wonderful, fulfilling, terribly sharp and laced with fire, agony and bliss.

After a moment’s difficulty even enduring the heat and swallowing, Astarion greedily gulped down the blood, accepting Raphael’s offer, hoping to be sated and healed.

Raphael cradled him as he drank, muttering sweet nothings into his ear, until Astarion felt like he might split open from the amount of blood he’d taken in.

Unlatching, he withdrew his fangs and sighed against the twin puncture wounds, the bruises and welts on his own body already healing over.

„Hm, there“, said Raphael soothingly, running a hand down his arm and back. „All better.“

He shifted, causing Astarion to flinch in anticipation of more pain, but Raphael merely cradled his head and pulled him into a long kiss.

Astarion shuddered, but didn‘t dare struggle.
His body shook with the memory of the brutal assault from the day before.

When he broke the kiss, Astarion shrank away with a gasp, and the devil got out of bed and stretched, still fully nude, walking over to the in-ground pool.
Astarion watched him warily, terrified to move and attract any attention to himself. He should just ask if he was allowed to go, but he didn’t trust his voice at all.

And what if Raphael said no?
Was Astarion to be confined to this room, this bed? Reduced to a mere toy for a bored devil?

He looked over to the pool, where the devil was just disappearing into the water with a hissing cloud of steam.
An indulgent sigh escaped his lips.

Though he was facing away from Astarion, Raphael said: „Don’t stare, unless you‘re going to join me.“

Hastily, Astarion looked at the ceiling, trying to get his tongue to form words. „S… sorry, master.

The devil chuckled. „Who knew a good whipping was all it took to make you this docile? Let’s try something: Come here, pet.“

Astarion flinched, then scrambled out of bed and towards the pool before he could think better of it.

He was still naked, though any trace of the torture from the day before had vanished with his feeding, but he felt dizzy with fear. Maybe it was the after-effects of the excessive amount of venom he had ingested, maybe it was something else, but he was shaking from head to foot, legs wobbly like a fawn‘s.

Raphael smiled up at him as he approached. „That’s more like it. Come, join me.“

Astarion, still shivering violently, quietly stepped into the pool opposite the devil, never taking his eyes off him.

Raphael ran a wet hand through his face. „You reek of that incubus. Wash up. You can go to your room after you’re done.“

Astarion nodded, then grabbed a sponge and began to wash off, watching Raphael observe him. The devil seemed to be savouring his terror.

Skin prickling, still sensitive from both the recent wounds and the echoes of the venom‘s effects, Astarion scrubbed and cleaned himself, then waited for the devil’s permission to leave.

Raphael held his gaze in silence for a while, then said: „Dunk.“

Astarion really didn‘t want to get his hair wet on top of everything else, and he hesitated. But when he caught Raphael smirking at him, he almost violently submerged himself, before getting back up.

He practically fled the room without looking back, dripping, naked, and feeling like a miserable wet rat.

He had run back to his room as he was, madly dodging servants and slaves clearing away the debris, now he was sitting on his bed cradling the clothes he had meant to put on in his lap.

The fabric still tickled terribly, his skin too sensitive to bear clothes just yet. As he sat there, alone and undisturbed, his immediate fear died down, and revealed a simmering anger just beneath. Astarion was glad he was alone, because he’d probably just earn another punishment if he got into earshot of the devil.

Did Raphael want him meek and complacent? Astarion didn‘t think so. He just enjoyed knocking him down a peg. Reminding him of his power. Reminding him of what he could do to him. And all things considered, the punishment had been relatively tame.

It had still put Astarion back in the mindset of a terrified starving spawn, a slave to be hurt for his master‘s enjoyment, a toy to be broken, just a pretty empty thing to wring screams from.

Ascension, with all its power and glory, seemed impossibly far away now.

Wishing for Raphael’s touch seemed strange now.

Gathering his thoughts seemed an insurmountable task.

He‘d been hurt so thoroughly (physically and emotionally) just hours ago, and now there was no trace left of the damage done to his body. Another novelty.

What Raphael had chosen to do to him had been so precise, so calculated… he had managed to thoroughly frighten and rattle Astarion, but without reducing him to something unable to walk or act. With a bit of rest, Astarion would recover from the shock and be good as new, even if he didn‘t think he’d trust himself to speak around Raphael too much for a while.

Frankly, it was a bit shocking how much Astarion had come apart from these few hours of torture. He supposed he must have felt safe with Raphael. Safe to be just a bit more himself, to speak his mind safe from punishment.

Which was laughable.

You could never be safe with a devil.
Astarion had been a fool to let his guard down.

When he heard the door open, he reacted only slowly, raising his eyes to gaze towards the entrance. He‘d have known if it was Raphael, so there was no rush.

Korilla stood in the door, eyeing him apprehensively.

There was a heavy silence settling between them, Astarion acknowledging that she must have learned of his punishment, and her realizing that he understood she knew.

Finally, she took a deep breath. „I‘m assuming you aren’t alright, are you?“

Astarion gave a joyless laugh, a high titter tearing from his throat. „What gave it away, darling? The haunted look in my eyes? The trembling of my fingers?“

„That, yes, and you’re still not wearing any clothes. And shakin like a fawn.“

Astarion swallowed before looking away, reaching for the clothes he had gotten and laid on his lap, and then thinking better of it. „I can’t, yet.“

„Want me to leave?“

Astarion looked back up at her. „You’re really asking me?“

„Yes. Sppose I did.“

Well that was new. Unfortunately he didn‘t know whether he wanter her gone or not.

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Korilla came closer. „Aight, how about this? I‘m gonna come in, slow, aight? And you can tell me stop and leave whenever you want, yea?“

Astarion nodded fleetingly, crossing his arms over his naked chest, then realizing how silly he had to look, and putting them back to how they were before, hands folded on the clothes in his lap.

It turned out he didn‘t tell the dwarf to leave or stop until she had arrived at his side. She had gone very slowly.

Finally she went into a crouch in front of him, and caught his lowered gaze. „Haarlep told me what happened.“

„Of course they did.“ Astarion gave a shaky sigh and looked elsewhere. „I… I don’t want to talk about it. It’s over now.“ He gave a brittle laugh. „It was nothing. I‘ve been through so much worse, really, he needs to do better if he wants to...“ Suddenly he was choking, unable to say any more.

„Astarion, sweetheart“, Korilla said very quickly. „Breathe. Please.“

Of course. Breathing. Ha! Easy to forget if you didn‘t need to. Astarion gasped for air more loudly and suddenly than he had planned. It sounded dangerously close to a sob (which it wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t!).

„Good. Very good“, she said soothingly. „You’re doin so well.“

„Don’t… praise me for… breathing!“, Astarion hissed through clenched teeth. „I‘m not a damn child.“

„Right. Sorry. Just tryna help.“

„You can help“, Astarion snapped, „by telling me what you’re doing about my other siblings.“

„Oh uh… Well I‘m spposed hunt them down without you as bait. Startin in a bit, actually. Problem is we still need your old master. He won’t come out of hidin any time soon. We might need ya for that. Maybe let the last of the other spawn see ya and run back to him so he comes out.“

Astarion shuddered. „Ah.“

„Yeah. About what happened…“

„I told you I didn‘t want to talk about this, didn‘t I?“

„Yeah, but I promised.“ She sighed. „I promised t’tell ya from Haarlep that they’re sorry.“

Astarion blinked down at her, then scoffed. „Oh please. They were loving every second of my torment. Even if they hadn’t fed on it, they made no secret of being jealous. Since Raphael gives me more attention…“

„And now you know a devil’s attention isn’t necessarily something to seek.“ She carefully reached for his hand, and he let her. „I meant to tell ya… just… try not takin it too harshly. Raphael gets… angry. Unjust, even, every time Mephistophiles visits. It never goes well for him. So, bein a devil… he lashes out.“

Astarion bristled. „Don’t try making light of it, darling“, he snarled. „I practically asked him to punish me. I could have apologized, or begged for him to just let me leave, but I didn‘t.“

Korilla stared at him.

„I didn‘t.“ He held her solemn gaze, smiling bitterly. „And now I‘m still feeling like he dealt me some great injustice.“

„He did“, she said softly.

„Oh, please. I knew perfectly well what he is, and I knew he was angry, just looking to let it out on some poor sod. I just… needed it be me. I couldn’t stand him sending me away, I… I just wanted to stay with him. Even at the cost of punishment. Even if punishment was all he’d give me, I just wanted something, so… I asked him to. I challenged him to punish me.“ He met her gaze. „Bet Haarlep didn‘t tell you that, did they?“

„They didn‘t“, she agreed quietly.

He removed his hand from her grip, flexing his fingers to chase away her warmth. „So, there you have it. I tried getting his attention, and he ended up getting his incubus to do it, while he went back to his paperwork.“ He scoffed. „I must say, finally the „devil“ thing makes sense. I was wondering whether Raphael really had that much devil in him.“

Korilla looked panicked. „Astarion, ya really shouldn’t talk like that.“

„What’s he gonna do? Punish me?“ Astarion laughed wildly, throwing his hands out.

„He can do so much worse, Astarion. So much worse than you can imagine.“

Astarion believed her. „I suppose I‘ll find out soon enough.“

„Or“, she suggested gently. „You watch your mouth and try not to provoke him. You’re almost there. Just a few more spawn to find, and then your master. And then…“

„Then I‘ll still be his“, Astarion clarified. „I know what I signed, darling.“

„Bein his isn’t so bad“, she replied. „After gettin these souls, Raphael might renegotiate your contract. But we both know that right now, you need his protection. Mephistophiles is lookin beneath every stone for ya. You are the final missing piece.“

Shuddering, Astarion shook his head. „Oh, I am very aware. It’s why I bothered him about how I wasn’t keen being sent out there as prey, again. It’s how his whole mess started. I just… I don’t know why I am like this. Maybe… maybe Cazador really broke me, and I just haven’t noticed I went mad. Do crazy people know they’re crazy?“

Korilla considered him for a few long seconds. „Ya don’t seem crazy to me, sweetheart. Or broken, for that matter. But I told you before I was worried you were fallin for him. Are you?“

Astarion took a deep breath. „I don’t… know. I know I shouldn’t. I know I don’t want to.“ He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking. He shouldn’t talk about this, but after his punishment, he felt like he had been torn wide open. All these feelings kept spilling out like entrails (he almost giggled at the comparison). „But I think I did… come to crave his touch. His power. I want… I want to have part of it, to have part of him. I just wanted him to give me something. Pain or pleasure, I didn’t care. I… I just couldn’t get enough.“

„Vampires aren’t known for their modesty“, she said with a smile tried reaching for his arms, but he shied away from her touch. Korilla stopped, but added: „This isn’t your fault. Your nature, and Raphael’s… it’s a potent mix, I‘ll say that.“

Astarion gave a joyless laugh. „Oh, so I shouldn’t feel like a lovestruck idiot? I know I can’t fight this. But I‘m afraid what’ll become of me if I don’t try. I thought he cared too much to… to really hurt me.“

„If it helps… for devils, there’s no real distinction between pain and pleasure, I don’t think. They can love, yes. But it’s a terrifying thing. A painful thing.“

She said it like love and pain were, in fact, separable.

That wasn’t what Astarion had known. Even the few sweet souls he had encountered and tried protecting had been nothing but agonizing memories of loving touches and kisses, and the most terrible pain as he lost them to his master’s eternal hunger, and was forced to suffer the consequences for his attempt at goodness, at happiness.

Love was pain. The sweetest pain.

A rose.
Fragrant, fragile, fair.

A rose. Red as blood, thorns just waiting to pierce skin and flesh.

„Yes“, he agreed. „I know.“

They looked at each other, understanding blossoming and blooming between them at last. It felt good that Korilla knew him, and his desire, his misgivings and regrets, and didn‘t shun him for any of it. Didn‘t ridicule or blame or even tease him about it.

He smiled at her. „Thank you.“

She drew back a little, opened her mouth to ask what for (or so he assumed), but finally just smiled back and said: „You’re welcome.“

They sat for a few moments longer, before Korilla was abruptly teleported from the room, only to be replaced by Raphael.

Astarion flinched back from the imposing figure and dug his fingers into the clothes in his lap (which became increasingly more crinkled).

Raphael was as alluring and terrible as ever, though the terror may well have come and eaten some of the reverence Astarion had come to feel. But only some of it.

Still he craved the devil’s touch, his kiss, his power, his body.

It was foolish, dangerous, maybe deadly, but Astarion couldn’t deny the allure.

One punishment, a few hours of torture, all because Astarion had demanded it, pushed for it, and the devil had snapped and delivered a pain so profound Astarion was still reeling.

Smiling contently, the Raphael raked his eyes over Astarion’s bare form. „I suggest you get dressed. We’re going to the dungeons.“

Astarion considered the devil with everything he had just learned in mind. It was plain to see the devil cared for him a great deal, to deal love and pain in such amounts.

He could take both, or nothing.

And he wasn’t prepared to have nothing.

So, Astarion swallowed his fear and saw Raphael’s appearance for what it was: He was giving him his time, exactly what he really wanted.

So, Astarion would try getting himself together and be himself. Raphael liked him, whatever a mere mortal may think.

„Oh, goody“, he said as he unfolded his trousers. „And what’s the occasion?“

„Rest assured it is not a cell for you, pet“, replied Raphael. „You suffer too prettily to conceal it behind tons of stone.“

Astarion let this sit for a moment as he got dressed in an uncomfortable silence.

He was very aware of Raphael’s gaze upon him, and trying not think about it too hard. „Where did you send Korilla?“

„Baldur’s Gate, to hunt for your remaining siblings.“ He reached out a hand. „Come.“

Astarion stood and regarded the devil’s hand, then, very deliberately, took it. He didn‘t want Raphael to think the shock of the punishment still held him in its grip.

Grinning, the devil’s fingers closed around his as he pulled him closer. „Scared, little vampling?“

„Not after what you did to me yesterday“, answered Astarion snidely. „Unless, of course, you weren’t done with punishing me yet, in which case… I can only wonder what it’s going to be, darling. You were feeling incredibly creative yesterday, weren’t you?“

Raphael’s grin widened. „It’s good to see your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, little mouse. Although I enjoy how the terror still lingers. You may continue trying to mask it“, he added. „I do so enjoy your efforts.“

„I live to please“, Astarion groused. „Master.“

„Good boy.“

The devil teleported them both from the room and into the dark room Astarion had seen once before, when Raphael had altered his scar.

Instantly, Astarion began to sweat, his stomach plummeting. His eyes were glued to the surface of the table stained dark with his blood. He was so distracted by the object of his fears that he only noticed the walls when Raphael stepped away from him to indicate the circular collection of infernal runes Astarion now knew to be on his back.

He shuddered, the old scars suddenly itchy.

Around the original sigil, there were dozens, hundreds of other symbols drawn on parchment notes, and attached to the wall, some arranged and connected, others crossed out.

And there were some more sigils like Astarion‘s, only slightly different. Different enough for someone familiar with the symbols to see plain as day. Raphael truly had been hard at work since the last time Astarion had been here.

He looked from the symbols to Raphael and realized he’d been talking.

„Hm? I… can you say that again?“, Astarion muttered, interrupting Raphael.

The fiend twitched his tail. „I said“, he growled, „that this here is our newest acquisition. I took the writing apart, symbol by symbol. I believe the best course of action would be taking this one:“ He indicated a round letter with a jagged hook at one side (Astarion could just tell this would hurt like a bitch). „And adding the according bridge symbols around it. One I think I have figured out. For the rest, I need to see more of your siblings‘ sigils.“

Astarion peered over to the devil. „Why are you showing me this?“

Raphael was quiet for a moment. „Perhaps“, he muttered, „if you understand what it is I‘m trying to do, you’re less likely to provoke me and waste my time.“

Astarion scoffed, crossing his arms. „First of all, darling, I can’t even read what this says. You’re wasting your breath. Second: I was perfectly aware of the fact I was provoking you, even when you are on an extremely tight schedule.“ He held Raphael’s incredulous gaze. „I just didn’t care.“

The devil stared at him, silent for a few long seconds. „So“, he finally said. „This wasn’t a lapse of judgement, this was… calculated stupidity, is that what you’re saying?“

„No“, Astarion answered easily, then, less easily, he added: „I just… I suppose I wanted to not be alone. That was worth the punishment to me.“

Raphael stepped up close to him, staring him down. Astarion couldn’t bear to hold his burning gaze, so he lowered his gaze, feeling vulnerable after his confession. He didn‘t back off though.

The devil was close enough for Astarion to feel his heat. „What a fascinating broken little creature I happened to stumble upon“, he whispered, then he adressed Astarion directly: „Was it worth it, little mouse?“

Astarion shrugged with exaggerated casualness. „Yes. Though I could have done without getting Haarlep involved.“

Raphael grinned. „I had to make sure it got to you.“ He lifted his hand to the side of Astarion’s face and softly stroked his cheek.

„It did“, Astarion replied. „I don’t want you to use Haarlep against me, ever again.“

The devil chuckled. „Is that so?“

„I‘m asking.“ Astarion was aware he had no leverage. All he could to was appeal to Raphael’s better nature (hah), and try asking him for an addendum to their contract. „Please, master.“

„As nice as this is, pet, I‘m afraid I can’t promise I won’t do something similar to you in the future. Punishment is not supposed to be pleasant for you. And if you’ve so come to long for my touch, you’ll need to be deprived of it.“

Astarion resisted biting his own lip in disappointment. This wasn’t over yet. The devil seemed in a good enough mood, maybe Astarion could play him just a little. Sway him. Renegotiate some of the terms in their contract.

He sighed, covering the devils hand (still on his cheek) with his own. „Aw. And you‘re sure I can’t change your mind? I thought you’d be up for a little game.“

Smiling indulgently, Raphael brought his forehead to Astarion’s. „You are as aware of our contract as I am, little mouse. I own you. I can do just about anything I want with you. Why would I restrict myself, when you’ve already signed?“

Astarion shuddered, the devil’s breath on his lips. „If you grant me one addendum, you’ll get to add one too.“

The devil’s eyes, those blazing pits of black and glinting gold, widened, teeth flashing in a smile. „You tempt me, little mouse. Trying to dance with the cat, even when it already has you in its jaws.“ His warm fingers, he tilted Astarion‘s head up a little. „But I‘m not one to refuse a little game. Tell me what you want, and maybe I‘ll consider it.“

Astarion realized he technically had nothing to offer Raphael, nothing he didn‘t already have. Nothing but this game. Unless he came up with something extra… Perhaps delete one of his original addendums out of their contract? He swallowed.

No lasting visible damage.
No locking him in a coffin or some such.
One day a month off with the amulet of the sunwalker.

Well, that last one could go. Astarion couldn’t go out anyway, not with Mephistophiles, Ravengard and gods knew who else on his trail.

„I wish to replace addendum 3, in section 376, subsection 1“, he said, turning Raphael’s smile unmistakably fond.

„With what term?“

Astarion took a moment to think.

…Punishment cannot be inflicted by the involvement if the incubus Haarlep…

Was that good enough? Was there a loophole in there somewhere? Depending on the definition of punishment, Raphael might still make Haarlep take Astarion‘s form and fuck them.

…The incubus Haarlep may neither take the debtor’s form for purposes of punishment, nor inject him with their venom…

That was better, Astarion thought. He didn’t care if Haarlep whipped him, he just didn‘t want them to drug him, or for his form to be used against him.

Raphael had watched him, eyes gleaming with interest, tail flicking expectantly.

„The incubus Haarlep may not take the debtor’s form for purposes of punishment, not inject him with their venom“, Astarion said, his mind racing to find anything wrong with the phrasing. He realized he was wringing his hands nervously, and stopped.

Raphael regarded him. „Very good.“ There was no mocking in his voice. It was an honest appraisal of the wording. He came closer, still tilting Astarion‘s face up, leaning in. „But why should I grant your request, since you were squirming so beautifully unter Haarlep‘s influence?“

„Ah, but wouldn’t you rather make me squirm yourself?“

Raphael’s face was only an inch away now, the heat of his lips already kissing Astarion‘s cool skin. At the (admittedly) bold question, the devil froze. „You are treading some very thin ice, little mouse.“

Astarion held devil‘s gaze. „Yes.“

„I like your nerve“, chuckled the fiend. „Especially after yesterday. But you‘ll have to make me a better offer to grant your request.“

Struggling to not lose his head, Astarion said: „I said we could remove my last addendum. It’s hardly fair to offer me free time, and not allow me outside now.“

„That’s true, though the circumstances aren’t my fault.“

„Aren’t they?“, Astarion countered. „You could have told me you had plans with me. Told me there might be danger, so I couldn‘t go where I please.“

„Hm.“ Raphael turned away. „Maybe so. But that’s something you might have wanted to consider before signing.“

Astarion bared his teeth, ready to snap. It was unjust, but he was sure Raphael was just waiting for him to lose his temper, and punish him for it, again.

„Raphael“, he said as calmly as he could. „I am asking. Please.“

„We are bargaining, little mouse. I‘m asking for you to do better.“

Astarion gaped at the devil, and scoffed. His patience with this game was quickly dwindling. When he opened his mouth for a sharp retort, the devil raised a finger and interrupted him.

„Ah, ah. Think very carefully about what you want to say, and how you wish to say it.“

Astarion glared at him, but stopped to consider his words. „We can add another addendum, then! You make me an offer!“ He hadn’t succeeded banishing the anger from his voice, which came out high and shrill. Not a great basis for bargaining.

„I don’t need an addendum“, chuckled Raphael. „I own you so thoroughly, little mouse, that there’s nothing I can’t do to you. Nothing except what you defined in your three addendums.“

„So, you cheated me out of one“, Astarion snarled. „If I can’t leave for my day off as I please, you’re breaking our agreement.“

„I‘m not letting you leave for your own good“, Raphael clarified sharply, any amusement gone from his face. „You‘ll end up caught and sacrificed. And all my hard work will be for nothing.“

„If I chose to take the risk, would you let me leave now?“, Astarion asked, closing the distance between the devil and himself. „It is my right. It’s in the bloody contract.“

Raphael showed his impressive teeth now, tail lashing. „You’re accusing me of breaking our contract?“

It became increasingly difficult to hold the devil’s burning gaze, but Astarion replied as calmly as he could: „Not if you agree to change the term to what I suggested.“

Raphael considered him. „The change would require a signature.“

„Fine, hand over the contract. I‘m fed well enough to bleed.“

Raphael snapped his fingers, and the document appeared in a flash of searing hellfire, Astarion’s bloody fingerprint at the bottom, besides Raphael’s own signature.

„The debtor chooses to replace addendum 3, in section 376, subsection 1, with a new term, to be defined as follows:“ As Raphael spoke, the words appeared in text beneath a new heading: „Changes to be agreed on by both parties.“

He gestured to Astarion. „Well? Repeat your term.“

Astarion swallowed, hesitated, his tongue feeling clumsy. „The… The incubus Haarlep may not take the debtor’s form for purposes of punishment. Nor inject him with their venom!“

Like before, the words appeared on the parchment, glowing like cinders.

Raphael reached out a hand for him, and Astarion accepted it, flinching when a black claw pierced his skin, drawing blood. „It’s done, then.“

Astarion freed his hand and placed his reddish fingerprint below the new term, Raphael’s elegant signature appearing right next to it.

„Now it’s done“, Astarion said, flexing his hand as the wound healed.

Raphael grimly smiled down at him. „You drive a hard bargain, little vampling. Well done.“

Astarion gave a shaky laugh, but was cut short when the devil‘s face turned hard, cruel.

„Of course you won’t get to leave of your own violation, least of all with the amulet of the sunwalker.“ He raised his hands in a shrug, a winning smile curving his mouth. „Ever. Every day of the rest of your existence, mine. Before and after the ritual.“

Astarion shuddered. He had hardly considered he might be able to take his time off after they completed the ritual, eliminating the threat keeping him confined for now. Now, it hit him like a great club. „I… I suppose it‘s not so bad here.“ His voice was barely shaking.

Raphael bent down to him and tilted his head up, nose to nose with him. „It’s sweet how you try playing a game you barely understand.“

„I understand plenty, darling“, Astarion replied as coldly as possible (the proximity might have made him just a little light-headed. It wasn’t his fault Raphael smelled as good as he did).

The devil chuckled, withdrew, and petted his head. „Of course you do.“

Astarion was reeling.

He had signed away the last bit of freedom left to him.

It was worth it. It wasn’t like the technicality of one day a month in the sunlight away from Raphael helped him much if Raphael was willing to just not let him leave. He could say it was for Astarion‘s good all he wanted, in the end it was only his word.

Astarion hadn’t really lost anything. He had rid himself of the threat of being drugged by Haarlep, and of the kind of torture Raphael had inflicted upon him, using the incubus.

It was worth it.

Raphael smiled at him. „Keep telling yourself that it’s worth it, little mouse. Desperate hope and delusion… it’s my favourite.“

Chapter Text

„Ah, Korilla“, said Raphael. „Right on schedule.“

Astarion hadn’t even heard her displace into the room. Looking up, he saw her hand a parchment to their master, and it was showing a circular arrangement of symbols very similar to Astarion’s own sigil.

„Should I continue?“

„Yes“, replied the devil. „The more we can speed this up, the better.“

Korilla was eyeing Astarion. „You okay, sweetheart?“

„Fine, darling“, Astarion choked.

Raphael interrupted him, spreading a wing so he was cut off from her. „We made a little adjustment to our contract, by his wishes. Now, shouldn’t you be on your way, Korilla?“

„Yes, of course, Master.“

„Wait!“ Astarion ducked past Raphael’s wing, showing it aside to get closer to her. „Which one was it? Which spawn did you…?“

Raphael grasped him by the collar like an unruly kitten. „Do you want me to punish you, again?“

„For what?!“, yelled Astarion, legs kicking to regain his footing.

„At this point, for shouting at me, pet. But by all means, keep going. Then I‘ll get to show you just how creative I can get without any involvement of Haarlep.“

Astarion fell silent, biting his lip. He almost considered to keep yelling (maybe he could get in a good kick), if he was going to be punished either way, but thought better of it.

He stopped floundering. „… Fuck… Fine, I‘m sorry, master“, he lilted the last word. „May I please know which of my siblings has just been horribly murdered by your esteemed warlock?“

The snide in his voice felt almost as good as shouting. It wasn’t quite the same though.

„Adequate“, replied Raphael, setting Astarion down. „Well, Korilla?“

The dwarf had been staring at Astarion in open shock, mouthing for him to stop, now she seemed taken aback she wasn’t about to witness Astarion getting folded like laundry. „Er… I… I caught this elven woman? White haired? Looked a bit like you, actually.“

Dalyria.

His „little sister“. Third eldest. Cazador had turned her because Astarion had been deemed too disappointing. And there was a likeness in the pale colour if their hair, and their faces, elven, beautiful, fair.

They had played the „sibling“-act countless times, very successfully too, bringing in droves of victims hoping to have them both, two beautiful elves at once, to enjoy the male and female form in equal measure. Naturally they had attracted the worst of the worst as well, and eventually stopped their act after getting hurt one too many times (which was always punished by Cazador).

They had been close, once. Until Cazador had begun taking advantage of their bond. Until he had broken them apart by forcing one to hurt the other. Puppeteering him to break her hands, or bringing her to scratch out his eyes.

Keeping their distance had been a survival strategy.

Every kindness, every tentative smile, every sympathetic glance, everything had long been twisted well beyond recognition by Cazador.

Dalyria, sweet Dal, his little sister, the one who had looked up to him, suffered alongside him, made him suffer… dead.

She was gone, now. Sacrificed, stuck forever in the hells with… with that monster Astarion hadn’t even been capable of looking at. Hadn’t even been able to comprehend.

Dead. Damned.

Astarion realized he was hyperventilating when Raphael grasped him by the shoulders and shook him hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

Korilla had gone, disappeared from the room to hunt down the next of the spawn, the rest of Astarion’s siblings. Leon, Violet, and… and Aurelia.

Fuck…

Dal was gone, now. The rest would soon follow. And Astarion wasn’t ready.

His knees shook and trembled, then they gave in, and he collapsed against Raphael, gasping air into his lungs like he needed it (he wasn’t sobbing. Sobbing involved tears, and he wasn’t crying. That would have been silly!), scrabbling against the devil’s jacket for something to hold on to.

The devil, however confused (and he was) held him, keeping him from sinking to the floor.

As Astarion tried breathing past the tightness in his chest, Raphael held him a bit tighter, his touch going from tentative to supportive, and finally to something resembling gentleness.

Finally, Astarion had gotten enough air into his lungs to get words out.

„I thought I was…“ He sobbed, his whole body shaking against Raphael, who stood like a searing statue, unmoving, but giving him a something to cling to. „Gods, I took her home that night… from the graveyard! I washed the dirt from her… I had to scrub half the night to get it out from unter her finger nails, I…!“ Another sob mighty enough to shake a building, but not Raphael. „She was my first… my first little sister. My responsibility to teach, I… gods… I can’t believe she’s gone…“

He shouldn’t be telling Raphael all this. It might be used against him. Cazador would have. So, Raphael would too. Of course the devil would too.

But Astarion couldn’t stop the flow of words coming out of his mouth.

Dalyria was dead.

His little sister, who he had shared so much with.

„We don’t have time for this, pet“, muttered the devil.

„Oh, fuck you“, replied Astarion against the devil‘s chest. „It fucking hurts…“

He was distantly aware the devil was moving with him, guiding him aside, until he sat on the table, pulling Astarion into his lap.

„If it’s any consolation“, Raphael whispered, „I killed most of my siblings.“

Astarion froze, safe for the tears running down his cheeks, his face still hidden in the devil’s jacket.

Raphael went on: „Most of them, I ended by choice. To secure my place a heir. It is expected among devils, even family. Kill or be killed, that’s all it is.“

He paused, and the silence was heavy, settling over them like a shroud, like grave dirt, choking out all air and light. Astarion curled tighter against Raphael, suddenly hyper-aware of the heavy stone walls surrounding them.

When the devil spoke again, it was so quiet Astarion almost couldn’t hear him. „But one or two… of my siblings, I grew fond of. Folly, of course, among devils.“ He ran a hand down Astarion‘s back in a soothing gesture. „Sentiment that almost cost me my life. How I wanted to weep after killing them. My youngest brother first. Then my older sister.“

Aurelia.

Sweet Aurelia.

Astarion shivered.

The devil paused feeling Astarion swallow another sob, then went on. „It’s unheard of. A devil weeping for another. For a felled rival. I wanted to scream and rage for them, but instead celebrated my victory. Took my place here. Defended it ever since. For millenia now, I stood guard here, in Zariel‘s frontier. And there have been challenges. All the time. I‘m tired of it.“

He tilted Astarion‘s face up so he could look him in the eyes.

„You are my way out, Astarion. I am not letting you back out.“

Astarion nodded, trying to lower his head again, to hide his tears, but the devil didn’t let him.

„It hurts now, but it’s worth it. You‘ll be stronger for vanquishing them.“ He pulled him closer. „We‘ll be stronger.“

With his thumb, he wiped the tears off Astarion’s cheek, licked them off, then pulled Astarion into a mind-numbing kiss.

Astarion hadn’t expected anything like this, so he spluttered, briefly grasping Raphael’s arms, before melting (he was a weak, stupid, pathetic little boy) into it, reaching for the devil, clinging to him like a drowning man, hoping for comfort.

If the devil understood his pain, maybe he would give it.

Then the kiss began to burn.

Astarion tried pulling his head back, and when the devil held him pressed just as close to his burning lips, he squealed into Raphael’s mouth, pushing against him, kicking and scratching.
The devil kept their lips sealed for another agonizing second or two, then grasped Astarion’s hair and pulled him back.

„What… the- fuck…!“ Astarion snarled, quickly assessing the damage done to his lips and was surprised to find no swelling or blisters. The pain had already subsided. „What the hells!“

The devil hadn’t released his hair. „A seal. What I just told you, little mouse, will not leave this room. You won’t be able to speak of it.“ He let go. „All done.“

Astarion got up and off the devil’s lap, furiously wiping his mouth and eyes. „Fuck you!“

„Oh, that’s three“, Raphael chuckled. „Just in case you weren’t keeping count.“

„Oh, so for every „fuck you“, it’s ten lashes, or what?“, Astarion scoffed.

„You should really stop talking“, chuckled the devil as he got up as well. „Consider yourself lucky I need to work on this new sigil, pet, otherwise, yes, some lashes seem appropriate.“

Astarion scoffed, but stayed otherwise silent.

„Anything else to say, pet?“, asked Raphael. „Just in case you want to make your situation even worse. Because you’re certainly…“ he paused. „On a roll today, as the kids say, yes?“

Astarion bristled. „I got what I wanted“, he said curtly.

It was worth it. He had hardly lost anything.

„Hm, yes“, Raphael replied with one eyebrow raised. „Of course you did. Delusion looks good on you. But enough of this now. You’re free to roam the House. I‘ll be sure to call for you once I‘m done here.“

Astarion tried not to think of what the devil might call him for.

„Good“, he said with his practiced smile. „Don’t keep me waiting too long, darling.“

After Raphael had displaced him back kn his room, Astarion just stood there in silence for a few minutes that eventually stretched into hours.

What the hells had just happened?

He had openly challenged Raphael, and won, and paid for it too. Shown his vulnerability like he rarely had in his 200 years of un-life.

And he had realized just how much he had still cared for Dal. He hoped her end had been quick at least.

Who even was left now?

Violet, Leon… and Aurelia.

Violet had been an utter bitch. The second youngest of them, arrived long after Astarion had given up hope. They had had some moments of comradery, but little beyond that.

Leon, the youngest, could frankly go fuck himself. Gifted with magic, he hadn’t been afraid to use it to get one up on any of them. He thought of nothing but himself and his daughter, the worst-kept and most snot-nosed secret on the sword coast. Cazador‘s most recent and most beloved pet, as they had all once been. He‘d revelled in the attention, with no regard for his elders, sucking up to Cazador in a most spectacular and disgusting manner.

Only Petras was hated more by Astarion, and that might just be because he had known him longer.

Aurelia… Aurelia was Astarion‘s big sister. His only big sister.

The first of Cazador‘s spawn.

Gentle, caring, sweet Aurelia, who had cleaned the grave dirt off him that night. Who had dried his tears back when he‘d still been able to cry at the injustice dealt to them every single night.

Aurelia, who had never stopped caring for him, no matter how much he had tried pushing her away in his darkest moments. How he had hurt her over the years. No matter how much Cazador had used her love for Astarion to hurt her.

She had never given up her humanity, maybe the only one out of all of them who hadn’t stopped trying to be good. Aurelia had been smart and compliant to their master, but never sucked up to him. She hadn’t felt the need to appeal to him, understanding full well it wouldn’t get her anything.

Astarion didn‘t know if he could stand to lose Aurelia. She was the only one he truly considered family, even with his lingering affection for Dalyria. And her demise had left him thoroughly shaken.

What would he do if his Aurelia was next?

Well, nothing, obviously. There was nothing he could do.

Which was… better than choosing not to do anything, right?

„They‘d all die anyway“, he told the empty room. „Only for Cazador‘s benefit, not mine. Stupid… This isn’t my fault. It’s all Cazador.“

Ugh. This was stupid. Thinking about this wouldn’t help. There was nothing he could do, nothing but try to get something out of it. Better him than Cazador.

Distraction, then!

Astarion clapped his hands together as he decided to head to the library. If not to annoy the librarian, he might actually find something worthwile to read.

The day had passed in relative peace. Raphael hadn’t shown up for him, Korilla was out of the house, Haarlep better fucking keep his distance as well… and the tiefling in the library had proven resilient to his quips this time.

Turned out when he wasn’t in a hurry, he was infuriatingly calm.

He had offered Astarion a book on anger management, which had made Astarion seriously consider if making a meal out of him was worth the punishment that would follow.

But here he was, back in his room, reading the silly tales of an adventurer who fought only with broken weapons. He had picked it at random, aiming to dissect and hate it for every one if its flaws, but it wasn’t actually that bad.

Just when he was beginning to get invested in the ins-and-outs of harpy tracking, the door opened, and in came…

„Haarlep!?“ Astarion bolted upright, screeching with outrage. „Get the fuck out!“ He threw the book at them, only for the incubus to catch it.

They were wearing Raphael’s shape again, examining the title with their eyebrows raised. „The tales of a half-elf hero with half a sword? Really?“

„Get the fuck…! Don’t you fucking come any closer!“ Astarion grabbed the letter opener he had secured a few days ago, holding it out like a knife.

Haarlep didn‘t stop, coming closer at a leisurely pace, hips swaying. „Oh, you’re still mad? I did say I was sorry.“

„You sent Korilla to…“ Astarion inched back. „I said stay back! I mean it!“

Haarlep stopped. „Or what? You’ll hurt me with this toothpick? Please! I‘d love to see you try.“ They put their hands on their hips, completely open for attack.

Astarion primed himself for a lunge.
If Haarlep came just one step closer, he’d attack, consequences be damned.

The incubus examined his stance, his weapon, his bared teeth, estimating the threat he might pose, then smiled and confidently came closer.

Astarion attacked, letter opener raised high, aiming for the neck.

There was a flurry of movement as Haarlep caught his wrist, knocked his other hand aside, and kicked him squarely in the stomach, hurling him across the room and onto the bed.

The bed frame shattered, Astarion gasping for air as he felt a rib break.

Somehow, the incubus had ended up with the letter opener.

Somehow, they had also ended up on top of Astarion, pinning him down.

Astarion kicked and beat at them, teeth bared and primed to bite if the incubus was stupid enough to come anywhere near his face.

„No! Get the hells off!“ Astarion screamed loud enough for his voice to break. „I‘ll call Raphael! I‘ll fucking kill you!“

Astarion barely managed to (barely) break the skin with his scratching nails in a few places, causing Haarlep to give an irritated sigh. They discarded the letter opener (really if was barely a weapon. Their claws were more deadly anyway) and wrestled him down, barely hurting him, but forceful enough to intimidate.

Astarion felt like a kitten battling a tiger.

Haarlep easily kept him still, eventually locking both if his wrists together with one large red hand, their other hand now free to… whatever it was Haarlep wanted to do.

It turned out they elected to clamp his mouth shut, muffling his screams and curses.

„It’s my turn to speak now, vampling“, they purred, acknowledging Astarion‘s attempt at biting with a lazy smirk. „By the way, if you do manage to bite me, remember what my blood does to you. It‘s going to make you oh, so much more compliant. I hear I‘m no longer allowed to „drug“ you, but I don’t have to stop you from doing it yourself.“

Astarion glared at them, still straining against their grip.

„We‘re on the same page, then. Excellent.“ They sat up a little straighter, their grip around his wrists like steel, tail swishing lazily. „So, you’re angry about yesterday. I get that, I do. What I‘m a bit confused by is why you’re angry with me.“ Their tail curled, the spade tip pointing at themselves. „All I did was help you.“

Astarion yelled into Haarlep‘s hand, how they had enjoyed his misery, how they had fed on it, added to it, but unfortunately the incubus‘ hand was choking out all of the words.

„Yes, very enlightening.“ Haarlep nodded along to his muffled cussing. „Really, yes. But please consider that you got yourself into this mess.“

„I KNOW!“ Astarion screamed loud enough for the meaning of his words to squeeze past Haarlep‘s hand.

„Good, that’s good“, Haarlep cooed. „And yes, I did absolutely love having you. It’s what I do, and Raphael told me to. So… of course I kissed you. And of course I enjoyed it. Ask yourself: Would you ever not enjoy biting someone and drinking their blood? There you go. We aren’t so different, sweetling.“

Astarion glowered up at them, then reared up once more, trying to get free, and he caught Haarlep with a kick between the legs.

The incubus snarled, bearing down on him, squeezing him so hard he his vision spun.

„Even now you are just begging to be hurt“, they growled. „You just can’t help yourself!“

Astarion whimpered, his bones creaking under the pressure, legs twitching to get free.

„But I need you to understand that I am not your enemy. What I did to you, I did because I was ordered to. The rest? To relieve some of your pain. Because believe me, vampling, if I hadn’t, you would have suffered tenfold!“

They were roaring, enraged, any trace of their charm gone. And they were terrifying in their anger.

Astarion had frozen beneath them, completely helpless and almost immobile, staring up at the fiend wide-eyed.

„Did I get it through your thick skull?“, Haarlep snarled, releasing his wrists. When Astarion immediately tried prying their other hand off his face, they gripped him harder in warning. „Blink once for yes. Twice for no.“

Still severely brow-beaten, Astarion blinked once.

„Very good“, purred Haarlep. „Now, I‘m going to release you. Do not shout at me, or kick me, again. I‘ll make you regret it.“ Their tail lashed fast enough to produce a whipping noise.

Astarion stared up at them expectedly for a while, then realized what was expected of him, and blinked once.

„Good boy.“ Haarlep sat up straight, taking their hand off his mouth, but stayed seated on top of him. „There. See what being nice gets you?“

„Fuck you“, Astarion said calmly.

„Likewise, pet“, came the icy reply. „So, tell me what you did. The contract. How did you change it?“

„How do you even know…?“

„You think I don’t know the moment my name appears in a contract? Please. I‘ve been playing this game since high elves were still eladrin. And if you won’t tell me, I‘ll just have to pluck the truth from your lips.“

„You can’t do that!“, hissed Astarion.

„Can’t I? Technically I don’t think I‘ve ever been forbidden from hurting you. Raphael certainly never told me.“ They smiled sweetly, pityingly down at him. „I‘m not some monster out to hurt anyone. He never had to tell me not to go torturing his guests, or slaves, or pets. We both know I deal in pleasure over pain. But if you involved me in a contract without my knowledge or consent, am I ever so ready to inflict pain. You see, I‘m not risking breaking a term just because you refuse to tell me what they are. So, out with it. Or I‘m going to hurt you, and I‘d really rather not do that.“

Astarion considered his broken rib, the bruises blooming all over his body (never mind that he had caused most of those himself when he’d tried getting free), and accepted defeat. Haarlep was just as capable of casually breaking him apart as Raphael was.

He tried sitting up, but froze when Haarlep’s tail sharply cracked through the air. „Stay down.“

„Do you have to insist on pinning me to the bed? Just let me sit, Haarlep.“

„Just tell me what I want to know, and I‘ll consider it“, they replied sweetly. „Why is it always like this with you? You lose one battle, and immediately insist on starting a new one. Completely unnecessary, pet.“

„You don’t get to call me pet“, Astarion hissed.

The incubus laughed. „You’re doing it again!“

Astarion paused. Fuck, Haarlep was right.

Still giggling, they bent low over him, ignoring his attempts of keeping them away. Haarlep crossed their hands over his chest and rested their chin on them, now laying on him, stomach to stomach. „So, to be clear: I get to call you whatever I like, and you don’t get to sit or stand, for that matter, until I‘m satisfied with what you tell me about the changes you made to your contract involving me. Are we clear?“

Astarion huffed a breath (the incubus was heavy), then nodded. „I added a new term.“

„Which was?“

„The incubus Haarlep may not take the debtor’s form for purposes of punishment, nor inject him with their venom“, Astarion quoted.

For a few long seconds, Haarlep was silent, then finally: „Ah. Curious. You do realize he can still make me hurt you. He can still make me take your form, just not for purposes of punishment, which I‘m sure you very clearly defined.“

Astarion swallowed, his stomach plummeting. He had known, if course, but hearing it out loud made his predicament that much worse. „He barely agreed to the term as it is“, he reasoned.

„You’re a fool“, the incubus concluded. „What did he want in return?“

„Do I have to tell you so you let me up?“

„Hmm, yes. While I still have you here…“

„Ugh, gods…“ Astarion ran a shaky hand through his hair. „I removed another of my own terms. The… the time off and away from here. I was to have one day a month, but since he won’t let me go with everyone looking for me…“

Haarlep seemed incredulous.

„Go ahead and tell me I‘m a fucking idiot, then!“, snarled Astarion. „Now can you get off me, fucking please??“

With a huff, the incubus sat up, giving Astarion some room to breathe at least. „You’re a fucking idiot. The ritual will be done in a few days, and then no-one will be able to touch you. You could have enjoyed freedom once a month, and you traded that so I wouldn’t be able to use my powers against you? What the hells were you thinking?“

Tiredly, Astarion looked up at them. „I was thinking that there’s nothing I despise more than having my body controlled by someone else. So, if it’s all the same to you, darling, kindly let me go.“

The incubus sighed, then stood, offering him a hand.

Astarion eyed the elegant fingers, scoffed at them, and tried getting up, but his broken rib protested with an angry sting. He yelped and sagged back down.

With another sigh, Haarlep grabbed his arm and supported him. „Sorry about that, by the way. I was angry. And frankly done with you attacking me at every turn.“

„I‘m defending myself, you utter prick.“

Haarlep took a breath to reply, but stopped. „Fair enough, pet. But don’t blame me if you end up getting more hurt.“

„Don’t act like I can avoid the hurt“, hissed Astarion.

„Ahhh, I see it now“, chuckled Haarlep. „You want to have it done to you on your own terms. Well that’s clever, really!“ They turned Astarion around. „Chair?“

Astarion barely managed to turn his head and look for what the incubus meant, before he was dropped into said chair. He yelped, glaring up at them.

„I wasn’t serious, by the way. You’re not clever. You’re a damn idiot! Provoking punishments when you could avoid them? Honestly, all you gotta do is be a good boy, let Raphael fuck you every once in a while, and you’ll be perfectly fine, as long as the boss doesn’t get bored.“ They threw themselves onto the desk and turned Astarion’s chair towards them with a well-aimed kick that made Astarion flinch. „It’s an awesome gig, sweetling. Just take it, ugh. Honestly you are… something else.“

Astarion lowered his gaze, uncomfortable, and completely aware of how right Haarlep was. „Can you… can you just go, please?“

„… Aw, that’s not fun. I wanted… ugh!“

Looking up at Haarlep showed Astarion that they were squirming, tail curling, wings drooping. They looked miserable.

„Come on, I had to be rough with you. I had to, but I hate being like this! Like I said: Pleasure over pain. Can’t you give me a chance to make it better?“

„Better how?“, Astarion asked, incredulous.

„Well, I‘m not supposed to kiss you, or use your form to punish you, buuut I can still show you a good time.“

„No.“

„Fine“, they sagged. „Then let me distract you from your misery.“

Astarion barked a joyless laugh. „Oh, darling, you ARE my misery!“

„You don’t mean that!“, they whined.

They did it so dramatically, hand on their chest, and open mouthed, that Astarion smiled despite himself.

Encouraged, Haarlep sat up a bit straighter. „Come on now, what can I do to make it better?“

„You can leave“, he snapped, but there was very little conviction behind it.

„Don’t you want company? To get to take your mind off this damn mess?“ They leaned forward hopefully. „Or do you truly want to sulk in here all alone and miserable? Stew in your own juices, as it were?“

Astarion tested his ribs again. The pain was subsiding now, his vampiric healing taking care of the broken bone. He groaned, then met Haarlep‘s gaze. He supposed he could do with some company, just not with something that looked like Raphael. „Can you change to someone else?“

„I‘m not supposed to right now“, replied Haarlep, playfully dangling his legs off the table. It looked absurd with Raphael’s form. „But I might do it anyway! Who should I turn into?“

„Who do you have?“

„What are you in the mood for?“

Astarion was always in the mood for Raphael, lately, despite everything. But he didn’t want to think about him right now. „Something absurd“, Astarion decided.

„Oh, hmm“, they muttered, finger coming up to their chin. „Well, that’s subjective. I thought more like… pretty elf girl? Half-Orc hunk? Whatever tickles your fancy?“

As they talked, Haarlep‘s form flickered to a frankly stunning elven woman with rich chestnut hair and eyes of sparkling emerald, surely one of the most beautiful creatures Astarion had ever seen. Perhaps, in another life, he might have pursued a woman like her. Spent his life with her. What a strange thought.

Astarion was staring, open mouthed, as Haarlep shimmered into a half-orc with muscles bigger than Astarion could comprehend flexing beneath dark green skin. Steely eyes of dark brown, coarse body hair peeking past the harness the incubus was wearing, yellowed tusks protruding from thick dark lips.

Before Astarion could quite wrap his mind around what he was seeing, Haarlep changed into a male human, dark haired, pudgy, pinkish skin, beard, then into a tiefling woman with dark blue skin and curved horns.

„Anyone tickle your fancy?“, Haarlep asked with her extremely lovely mouth, orange eyes gleaming with mischief. They leaned forward, one hand ghosting over his chest.

They were smart enough not to actually touch him.

„Anything you want, sweetling“, they added as they changed into a tall muscled woman with wings of white-gold feathers sprouting from her back.

Astarion scowled a bit. „Well, first of all, I want you to stop with the pet names.“

Haarlep smiled dazzlingly, folding their wings. Their form rippled again, and there stood Raphael. „Why do I get the feeling you‘d love hearing your name from this particular mouth, Astarion?“

A pleasant shudder travelled up Astarion‘s spine. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then said: „I asked for someone else.“

„And yet you don’t tell me what you actually want.“ Haarlep changed again, shrinking down into a human form. Raphael’s human form, to be precise. „Say, you’re into gnomes or halflings, aren’t you? You dog, you!“

They turned into a gnome man, short legs dangling absurdly, the too-big head wobbling as they leaned closer, eyes half-closed. „Tickles your fancy?“

„If you don’t change back THIS SECOND“, Astarion groused, „I will stab you!“

Haarlep laughed as they turned back to the half-orc from before. „You got a thing about gnomes or something?“

„Well yes. Absolutely“, Astarion replied. „Show me the form you find funniest.“

„Oh, that’s a big one!“ They thought with a thick finger to their hairy chin. „Hm. I have a lot or really funny ones.“ They snapped their fingers. „Oh, I know!“ They changed again, shrinking, skin turning greener, head broadening, eyes bulging.

Before Astarion knew it, a frog man sat before him on the table. It winked at him, its long purple tongue briefly sticking out.

Astarion laughed hard enough for his rib to protest. He winced, but kept chuckling. „Oh, this… gods what IS this? How…?“

„Oh it’s s bullywug“, replied Haarlep, voice gurgly and deep. „I was just playing around, trying to see how far I could take it. Poor thing happily traded his soul for a quick tumble in the hay! Apparently he was rejected by all the females, but oh so eager!“

They giggled alongside Astarion.

„And… gods, what…? Uh… How was it“

Haarlep considered their non-existent fingernails. „Oh, I‘ve had worse! It was pretty good, considering he didn‘t have a cock. Ah, there’s that hyena laugh Korilla told me all about. It’s so cute, aw!“

Astarion stifled his laugh with difficulty. „Oh, fuck you!“

„There“, Haarlep grinned and leaned forward, warty elbows on their knees. „All better? Do you believe me I want to be friends? It’s so much better than all that hissing and fighting. That kick hurt, by the way. I bet Raphael felt it too.“

Astarion couldn’t bite back a grin. „Want to change back and mess with him?“

The incubus changed back to the ethereal form they favoured when Raphael wasn’t around. Their soft hand stroked his cheek. „I like, no, LOVE the way you think. But I thought I just explained how you really should avoid antagonising him!“ They gave him a very slight slap on the cheek. „Let’s not get you straight back into trouble, yes?“

Astarion cocked his head, considering the beautiful creature before him. „Hm. You really do have my well-being in mind, don’t you? How odd.“

Haarlep smiled. „I don’t have a reason to lie to you, Astarion.“ They added his name after some consideration. „I do quite like you, whatever you may think.“

„It didn‘t feel like it, yesterday.“

„Raphael’s orders. I had to hurt you to spare you from worse. I did enjoy stripping your willpower from you. Your pride. I‘m a devil. An incubus. It’s in my nature. I‘m sorry, but it is.“

„I don’t understand why you want to play at being friends“, Astarion admitted. „You’re an enigma, darling. I barely understand why you do anything.“

„Always assume I want to have a good time“, Haarlep replied easily. „I dislike forcing people into the pleasures I can provide, but a devil’s gotta eat. You know what’s better than giving someone enough venom to have them drooling for you? Give them just a little when they already really want you. Genuine lust, but amplified. That’s what I really want. So…“ They shrugged. „Really, if you ever want to get your mind off things, I can help. Raphael hasn’t revoked my right to touch you, yet.“

Surprised, Astarion cocked his head. Haarlep could have forced themselves on him any time today. Made him compliant, make him beg for them on his knees… and instead they had asked him what he needed to feel better. Had tried making him laugh.

They had even taken a kick from him.

Astarion shook his head in disbelief, opened his mouth to tell them no and send them away, but the thought of being alone with his semi-interesting book when so many things were weighing on him actually made him feel queasy.

Haarlep had successfully distracted him from his miserable guilt about Dal‘s death, and Aurelia‘s looming fate. Even about the stupid change to the contract he had made. Perhaps a quick fling wouldn’t be so bad.

Astarion stopped, trying to assess whether Haarlep was messing with his mind, but found no indication of it.

„Raphael wouldn’t want you to“, he muttered. „Would he? He said he didn’t want to share me.“

„And yet, just yesterday, he gave me permission to have fun with you. Say the word, and I‘ll leave. Or you tell me what you want. Who you want, and I‘ll give it to you.“ They fluttered their long eyelashes at him, one hand running down their androgynous form, teasing the pinkish skin.

Astarion was faltering. Caving. He wanted distractions, and what could be better than the mindblowing sex Haarlep was promising?

The problem was that he wanted Raphael. It had been ages since he had actually wanted anyone, much less felt good during the act.

But he didn’t want to think of the devil right now.

„I don’t…“, he stammered, squirming in the chair. „I don’t know…“

Haarlep perked up. „Ah? But that wasn’t a no…“

„I suppose it wasn’t“, Astarion conceded.

„Oh!“ Excitement made the incubus‘ wings quiver. „Oh, I like this! Yes! Let me make you feel good! We can have so much fun!“ They had scooted off the table, caging Astarion in the chair, slowly sinking to their knees, silvery eyes glimmering as they looked up at him like he was a god.

„Wouldn’t Raphael be angry? You just told me to stop antagonising him.“

„He doesn’t have to know“, they whispered conspiratorially.

„What if he finds out?“ There was excitement budding in Astarion‘s chest now, a feeling of juvenile mischief taking hold of him.

„Well“, Haarlep carefully put a hand on his knee, testing the waters. „You can just tell him I made you do it. Like I said: He hasn’t revoked my permit to touch you.“

Astarion gave a breathless chuckle.

„Of course“, continued the incubus, „I can’t kiss you and give you my venom. But if you want a bite… I‘m sure that wouldn’t count as injecting you, would it?“

Astarion remembered how exquisite the blood had been, before he had lost control and panicked about how he had been drugged to be made compliant.

„I might drain you“, he warned with a smile.

„Oh, sweetheart. You may try“, they grinned back. „Now, how do you want me?“

Astarion opened his mouth, but no words came out. He felt himself flush, curtesy of Raphael’s blood coursing through him. Gods, he was actually getting excited.

„You’re a vision“, they whispered, hands inching higher up his thighs. „Let me touch you?“

Astarion swallowed nervously, arousal curling tightly in his gut. „Yes“, he said.

The genuine smile blooming on Haarlep’s face was enough to make him feel a bit safer. „Oh, I‘m going to take such good care of you“, they whispered hoarsely. „How do you want me?“

„Right where you are“, Astarion managed.

Haarlep raised an eyebrow. „You like me on my knees for you? Hm, fair enough. And… what else would you like?“

Their hands had traveled up to his crotch by now, palming him carefully through the fabric of his trousers.

Astarion had to actively stop himself from prying their hands away. It felt good. He was dying for some good distractions, and Haarlep would take all the fear away, at least for a little while. He wanted to want it.

„I‘ll bite you first“, he panted. „It’s going to be… easier that way.“

They paused. „You’re afraid. Care to tell me why?“

„It’s just… it’s not you“, Astarion ran a hand through his face. „I haven’t… I haven’t...“ He struggled for words, afraid to say it out loud for some reason Astarion dared not name. „I‘ve been made to do this… too many times.“

„But you want this? You’re sure?“

„I want to want it“, Astarion replied truthfully, barely resisting the urge to cover his face in shame. „It’ll be easier after I bite you.“

Haarlep sat back a little, withdrawing their hands. „I see. You really like getting into your own head, don’t you?“

„I…“ Astarion almost apologized. „I suppose I do. Now, where can I bite you?“

Haarlep hopped back onto the table, giving him some space. „Anywhere you’d like, vampling.“

Only now after they had backed off a bit, Astarion realized how unwell he had felt just being caged in the chair.

He stood, the pain from his broken rib subsided, and reached for the incubus, who didn‘t shy or flinch away, but was smirking up at him.

Absolutely at ease with the vampire about to bite them.

Astarion wished he could be at ease (not just pretending) like this for once in his damn un-life.

So he grasped Haarlep by the hair and pulled their head back, relishing their excited little gasp, before plunging his teeth into their throat. His fangs pierced the dark pink skin with ease, and blood spurted forth like the sweetest nectar.

Astarion was hit with the effects after just one pull, and he withdrew with difficulty, as long as he still had the presence of mind to do so.

The heavenly taste lingered on his tongue, his body gripped by a myriad sensations, strongest of them lust and comfort. The fear was falling away. He could have fought it, just like he had last time, but instead he gave in to it, letting it envelop him.

He staggered back, trying to catch his breath, knees buckling.

Haarlep swept him off his feet like he was a blushing maiden, nuzzling and nibbling at his ear as they held him close. They made a move to put him on the bed and realized they had broken it in their fight earlier.

„Hang on, love“, they cooed, gently releasing Astarion‘s legs, and snapping his now freed fingers.

The bed bent back into place, and Haarlep guided Astarion onto it, laying him on his back.

They straddled him, hands running over his chest and stomach. „Good?“

He moaned in appreciation.

Giggling, Haarlep began peeling his shirt off. „Very good. You’re perfect like this.“

Had they still worn Raphael’s form, had their voice still been his, Astarion would have shuddered to hear the words, but from this strange and beautiful creature atop him, it sounded sweeter than honey.

„Now… you want me to take you? Or do you want to be on top?“

Astarion wanted both, preferably at the same time. Anything the incubus suggested sounded too good to be true.

„You like women too, don’t you?“, Haarlep asked as they teased a nipple, drawing a shuddering moan from Astarion, his extremely fortunate prey. „I can be women, if you‘d prefer. Perhaps, as a distraction, it would be better for you?“

As they spoke, they shifted into the devastatingly beautiful elven woman from before.

„You liked her plenty, didn’t you? Wouldn’t you like to have her?“

„Yes…“ Astarion breathed, reaching up to cup her generous breasts. „Gods, yes.“

„Hm.“ Haarlep smiled, taking his groping hand in their own. „As you wish.“

They began grinding their hips against him, wrenching a groan from him.

It was a nice change having a soft and pliant body over him, soft thighs on both sides of his hips, soft hands caressing his face, soft eyes on his, soft breasts just waiting to be touched.

He liked men, he liked them a lot, their hard bodies, the rougher side of pleasure. Giving pleasure to another man, or receiving it, it was strangely familiar, comfortable, easy even.

He used to lure more men than women for Cazador. He supposed he appealed to them more, so naturally he had more experience with them.

But women had their charms as well.

Haarlep bent down to him, and he tried capturing their mouth, but they quickly ducked down to kiss his neck instead. When he whined at the rejection, they mumbled: „I know, sweet, I know. But I can’t kiss you.“ They grinned up at him. „Not on the lips, anyway.“

Humming softly, they kissed and nibbled at his throat, hands caressing his ears.

Their mouth on the sensitive area on his bite scar and the warm gentle fingers kneading the tips of his ears rapidly sent Astarion into such pleasure that his vision went white. He wasn’t sure if he had come or not, but was aware of the shivering moan that had left his lips.
Haarlep‘s excited giggle reached him from somewhere far away.

They moved down his body, leaving trails of kisses, nips, and caresses, drawing little moans and pleas from Astarion with casual ease.

Clever hands made short work of his waistband.

Haarlep was moaning too, drinking in Astarion‘s pleasure, tongue dipping into his navel, then travelling lower.

There was a thundering crack, and Haarlep jumped, turning around and revealed Raphael standing in the room.

There was a pregnant silence, Raphael staring in obvious surprise, Haarlep quietly shifting back to their Master’s form, and Astarion (incapable of feeling afraid) just drinking in the sight of the two devils.

„Haarlep“, he said. His voice was calm, but there was an intense heat radiating from him, rolling off him in waves that Astarion could feel from where he lay. „Am I to assume correctly that you broke the new terms of Astarion’s contract within just a few hours?“

„I didn’t punish him using his form. Or inject him with my venom“, they reasoned, shrugging and offering a disarming smile. „I showered him with attention, that I am very guilty of. This isn’t in violation of any contract. He bit me.“

Raphael scowled. „It seems I was too loose on the rules I told you to keep you in check. That’s going to change.“ He stepped forward menacingly (it was doing all kinds of things to Astarion). „Let me make it extremely clear, then: Unless I give you my explicit permission, you are not to touch Astarion.“ He levelled Astarion with a stern look. „Or let him touch you.“

Haarlep pouted, tail lashing in agitation. „But I was just…!“

„Keep going“, growled Raphael, „and I‘ll forbid you from even speaking with him.“

Once the incubus seemed properly chastised, Raphael closed the distance to Astarion and quickly examined him. Astarion was doing his best trying to grab on to the devil, his drugged out state allowing for very little rational thought. He just wanted him.
This close, Raphael’s scent hit his senses like a greatclub, and his fangs ached, mouth watering.

He might prefer men after all.
He might prefer Raphael most of all.

„And you…“, Raphael muttered. „Insisting on a new term forbidding them from drugging you, and then you actively seek it out?“ He bared his teeth. „Knowing it would slight me.“

Astarion was extremely busy trying to speak, trying to ask Raphael to hold and kiss him.

„Haarlep“, Raphael said without looking up, „Leave us.“

The incubus hesitated. „I talked him into it. Just don’t hurt him.“

„I said to leave. That’s an order.“

With an agitated sigh, Haarlep left the room.

Raphael was quiet for a few long moments, considering Astarion‘s prone form. „I haven’t expected you to abuse that delightful loophole you left.“

Astarion covered his face with both hands. „You can chastise or… or punish me later“, he managed. „I need you, please…“

„Aw“, Raphael‘s mouth was twitching. „Quite the predicament you find yourself in.“

„Oh, you utter prick…!“ Astarion struggled into a sitting position. „I‘m not nearly as out of it as you think! But I want you, so make up your damn mind about what you want to do to me!“

Raphael chuckled darkly. „There are a great many things I want to do to you.“

Astarion scowled, the heat of Haarlep‘s blood still making his skin prickle. He wanted someone to take care of him so badly that it hurt. But what he wanted most was Raphael.
After a moment’s hesitation, he reached for the devil, working on the buttons of his shirt.

Raphael raised an eyebrow at him, but made no move to stop him. „What makes you think I‘ll give you what you want?“

„That you want it too“, Astarion replied, face moving towards Raphael’s neck. He wasn’t going to bite, but this close he was practically drowning in the heady scent of smoke and cherries, tinged with arousal.

Raphael let him open his shirt, peel back the fabric, and drink in the sight.

„Maybe it is“, the devil conceded. He was growling, voice barely audible. His tail was lashing in agitation. „It’s why I came for you. But you can’t seriously expect me to grant your wish after you so blatantly disobeyed me, again.“

„I didn‘t“, Astarion was panting now, barely able to hold eye contact (Raphael’s extremely handsome chest was right there), hands caressing the red skin. „I didn‘t break any of our terms.“

Raphael gripped him by the hair and pried him away, sneering. „But you did disobey. You know perfectly well I‘m not inclined to share you.“

Eyes rolling back with the sting of his hair being pulled, Astarion scrambled to keep his balance. „Fine, so punish me later!“ He wrapped a leg around Raphael’s hip and yanked him closer, his other foot expertly catching the devil in the back of his knee. „But please…“

With a grunt, Raphael doubled over, collapsing both Astarion and himself on the bed. Astarion heard the devil’s tail lash through the air, and caught it with a hand, giving it a good pull.

Incredulous, the Raphael moaned, then hissed at Astarion, who grinned back, grinding upwards and into him.

Now the devil‘s last thread of control snapped, and he ripped Astarion’s clothing away like an overeager child unwrapping presents at Jule.

Astarion did his best undressing the devil, at least as much as he needed. „Haarlep told me you like them on top“, he hissed as a claw tore through the skin at his thigh. „I can…“

Raphael silenced him with a rough kiss, tongue plunging past Astarion‘s lips, tasting the residual incubus blood on him, all teeth and dominance.

When he pulled away, he was naked, lining himself up already. „And I like you beneath me“, he whispered hoarsely. „Now, be a good boy, and sing for me.“

Chapter Text

The sex had been rough, even more so than previously, but Astarion had enjoyed every moment of it.

Feeling sated, sore and satisfied, Astarion watched his wounds knit back together, various tears and gashes, the odd bite or two Raphael had inflicted in his frenzy.

The devil lay splayed out beside him, one arm thrown over his eyes, puncture marks at his neck (oops how did those get there?) still bleeding sluggishly.

He shamelessly took up most of Astarion’s bed, wings spread out over the cushions, tail wrapped tightly around his calf.

Astarion was starting to come down from the high Haarlep’s blood had given him, thinking back to what had transpired. In all honesty he considered himself lucky he was still in one piece, but he had also gotten exactly what he wanted.

The undivided attention and devotion of his powerful devil and master.

Now that his mind slowly cleared, he couldn’t stop thinking about Haarlep and what they had done for him. They had managed to take his mind off things, and made him agree on having a good time, no strings attached. And when Raphael had caught them, they had taken the blame.

Astarion kept trying to think of how Haarlep might benefit from all this, but couldn’t. It seemed the incubus really just had been trying to help.

Ugh. Astarion just couldn’t wrap his mind around them. Why would they want to be friends?

He shifted, then stopped when Raphael‘s tail curled tighter around his calf.

The devil was awake, watching him with his gold flame eyes. „Up and about already?“ His wing curled around Astarion, then he pulled him close to his chest, and tucked his head into the hollow of his throat.

Raphael’s scent was strongest there, the blood rushing past beneath fragile skin just perfect for biting.

Astarion wished he could live here, permanently.

„Yes“, he replied against the devil’s neck.

A chuckle. „Well, then I must not have been thorough enough.“ His arms tightened around Astarion, squeezing him.

„Feel free to try again“, Astarion purred, fangs extending in anticipation. After a moment of consideration, he dragged them over Raphael’s throat. „But I will bite you.“

„It’s infuriating how I can’t stay angry with you.“ Raphael buried his nose in Astarion’s locks. „You‘re too fun to play with.“

„And are you going to stay angry with Haarlep?“

Raphael froze, claws briefly digging into Astarion’s arms and sides.

„They didn‘t do anything wrong“, Astarion added quickly, pushing a bit closer still. „I asked them to.“

„So good of you to remind me“, growled Raphael, tightening his grip even further. „I won’t ask why, as we are both aware of your self-destructive tendencies, little mouse. But I might come to be less amused by your continued testing of your leash. It‘s going to get old, pet.“

Astarion could barely breathe, so speaking was out of the question.

„Maybe try obeying for a change. Something fresh to switch it up a little.“

Astarion did his best not to squirm. He didn‘t need the air. His bones were creaking, but he knew Raphael was holding back.

Raphael seemed content with his silence, and kissed the top of his head. „Korilla caught another of your siblings“, he said casually, like an afterthought.

Astarion froze.

„I wonder if it was the one you apparently hold so dear.“

Aurelia.

Astarion didn’t know whether he preferred her dead and gone, or still on the list. He closed his eyes and waited for the devil to continue.

„Another elven woman, perhaps?“

Violet.

Astarion sagged with relief.
It wasn’t Aurelia. Aurelia was alive, for now.

„Hm, or not“, Raphael concluded, releasing him.

Astarion stayed where he was.

„Only two left, pet. Korilla hasn’t been able to find the remaining ones yet. Tell me about them.“

Astarion took a shaky breath, ribs creaking. „Their names are Leon and… and Aurelia.“

„And how would we recognize them? Either they‘ve remained with your old master, or they’ve eluded detection so far. Which do you think?“

Astarion shook his head against Raphael’s chest. „I don’t know.“

„I‘m not asking you to know. I‘m asking what you think.“ Sharp claws ran through his hair, the threat of hurt was palpable.

„I… I think he kept them close…“, he replied shakily. „Leon‘s the youngest. He can… he can do magic. He might have kept him for protection.“

„Perhaps, yes.“ He petted Astarion gently. „Good.“

But it wasn’t good. In fact, Astarion had the feeling the devil was plotting something he was not going to like.

„And how might we spot this Leon, if he wasn’t with your master?“

„Human“, Astarion gritted out. „Young. Black long hair…“

Raphael was still petting him softly. „Good.“
Then he asked the question Astarion was dreading. „And the other one?“ When Astarion kept his mouth firmly shut, he stopped. „Little mouse?“

„I…“ No matter his feelings, Aurelia would die. Cazador had decided her fate long ago. All Astarion would do was thwart the monster who had done this. He‘d benefit, but if she was going to die anyway, wouldn’t she want him to? Rather have him ascend, rather than Cazador?

Or was he just trying to bend the horrific truth? That she was going to be sacrificed, by him and his new master. Sacrificed for him.

Rather him than Cazador…

„Aurelia“, Astarion whispered. „Tiefling woman. Red skin, black hair…“ He swallowed something that felt like tears. „She’s not like the rest.“

„You are not like the rest“, Raphael corrected, resuming the gentle stroking of Astarion’s hair. „You will ascend. She will die, just like the rest of them.“

Astarion sobbed.

„It’s rather a bit late for regrets now. Either you would die with them, in some pointless act of comeradery“, he sneered. „Or you rise above them. It’s your choice, although I won’t accept you backing out now when we are so close.“

„Im not trying to back out!“, hissed Astarion.

„Is that so? Then you’ll help finding her, and this other human spawn“, he tilted Astarion’s head up to look him in the eye. At Astarion’s miserable expression, the devil smiled. „What happened to „they need to fall for you to rise“?“

„Nothing“, Astarion lied, then chided himself. He wasn’t supposed to lie.

Raphael chuckled. „Alright. I‘ll have a talk with Korilla. Do you wish to participate?“

Well, what else was Astarion to do with his time, really? „Well, how could I say no, darling“, Astarion sighed.

Aurelia was lost. He was better off thinking she was already dead. It stung. It broke something where his heart had once beaten.

„Good. That’s very good, pet.“ Raphael released his chin and kissed him on the head again, face resting in his curls as he inhaled deeply. Astarion could almost get used to being scented all the time, but he couldn’t get over the strangeness of it. „Since you worsened your situation with the alteration of the contract, I‘ll make you an offer. Be a good boy, don’t make any more trouble for either of us, and once the ritual is done, I‘ll take you to lunch in Baldur’s Gate, in the sun. You won’t need the amulet to stand in the sun. And you’ll be able to taste real food.“

Astarion was filled with such longing that he was aching. Before he knew it he was tearing up again, this time with hope and gratitude.

„Do you remember the taste of real food?“

Astarion gave a shivering sigh, and nodded.

„Tell me about it.“

Astarion raised his head to the devil. „You‘d let me leave? After I crossed it out of my own contract?“

„Only if you’re good.“ Raphael smirked. „And I find the taste of your hope to have quite the effect, little mouse. Let’s call it a game. I don’t want you too miserable to be fun. It’s a tight line we’re both walking.“ He chuckled. „Now answer the question. What do you remember about food?“

Astarion shook his head, lowering it back against the devil’s searing chest. „I remember… liking it.“ He sniffled. „Strawberries, I think I liked the most. I don’t remember the taste, but I remember going to the market just after sunset, in my first year… to steal some.“

„Why?“

„Because Cazador told me I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the foods I liked anymore. Or any food.“

„So“, chuckled the devil, „you always liked testing the leash.“

„They tasted like ash“, Astarion hissed. „And I had to run from the city guards like some… common criminal.“

„Ah, because you weren’t a common criminal stealing fruit you couldn’t even eat.“

„This isn’t funny…“ Astarion snarled, but gave up halfway through. Raphael was just jerking his leash.

„Speak for yourself, pet.“

Astarion sighed. „You‘d really allow me time away from the House? Even after I changed the contract?“

„On my terms, yes“, clarified the devil. „So, be nice.“

Anger flared up within Astarion, but quickly died down. There just wasn’t enough in him to fuel it right now. Not with how his worry for Aurelia had shaken him for well over a day now.

So, since he couldn’t quite unleash this sputtering pitiful anger, he tried something else. His hand, resting against Raphael’s warm chest, travelled down, ghosting over the devil’s abdomen, then lower still, fingers twitching in a silent question.

When Raphael looked down at him, Astarion met his gaze confidently. This was what he was best at. If Raphael wanted to reduce him to an obedient little whore, he was really playing into Astarion’s hands. He could pretend, until the ritual was complete and he got the power he craved.

„I appreciate the enthusiasm“, purred the devil, lips ghosting over Astarion’s. Then he grasped him by the wrist and stopped him from exploring his body. „But we have work to do.“

Raphael abruptly got out of the bed, Astarion reeling a bit with the warmth so suddenly gone.

„Clean up“, said Raphael, still naked (and hard). „Meet me in my office at noon.“ He indicated his finger, reminding Astarion of the ring he had burned into him.

Astarion, spurned, helplessly scowled up at the devil. He didn’t need a reminder of the ring permanently burned into his damn finger. After a moment of struggling with his reignited anger, Astarion gave Raphael a fake smile. „With pleasure, master.“

Raphael grinned at him, then snapped his fingers and vanished from the room.

Fuck.

Great.

Astarion felt like he‘d been hit by a coach, which was appropriate after spending such a night with a devil.

He was glad his wounds had healed, at least. It didn’t do anything for his exhaustion though.

So, he got up to wash and dress himself.

At noon, he obediently entered Raphael’s office, finding him speaking with Korilla already.

When they both fell quiet and turned to look at him, he paused, hovering at the door uncertainly.

„What are you waiting for, pet?“ Raphael beckoned him inside with a gesture. „Come, sit.“

Astarion entered and jumped when the door slammed shut behind him, them hurried over to the devil and his warlock.

„As I was sayin…“ Korilla continued, looking at Astarion with concern. „The remainin spawn‘re… well either they’re very elusive or they’re with their master, hidin. I‘m not sure how to reach them, or lure them out. If you have any ideas, Astarion, any at all, we‘re all ears.“

„Yes, pet“, said Raphael. „All ears, indeed.“

Caught off guard, Astarion bristled. „Darlings, I‘m just as wise as you are. If Cazador has fled from the palace, I don’t have a clue as to where he might have gone.“

The tip of Raphael’s tail twitched as he sank back in his chair, brooding.

„We can find another way“, offered Korilla, urgently turning to Raphael. „There has to be somethin we missed. Perhaps the Ravenguard boy knows more?“

„We both know we must keep our distance to Ravengard. And if there’s any other way, we would have found it. And regardless, time is running out.“

„What are you talking about?“, Astarion snapped. „If you call me here, you might as well not talk as if I‘m not in the room.“

Korilla sighed. „Can I tell him?“

The devil made a gratious gesture. „By all means, let him down gently.“

She took a deep breath and turned her chair to face Astarion. „Aight. We‘re runnin out of time. If we wanna find your master and siblings, we’re gonna need you.“

„You already tried using me to lure them out“, Astarion replied testily.

„This’ll be more uncomfortable for ya“, she said, interrupting him. „Sorry, I gotta rip the bandage off.“

„Uncomfortable how?“ Astarion had the sudden urge to hide or run away.

She sighed again. „Vampires have a close bond to their spawn. They can… call and compel them to their side. A spawn beckoned like this would of course know where their master was.“

Oh, Astarion did not like this. „I‘m well aware, dear“, he replied icily. „I felt this call enough times to last me forever.“

„Not quite yet, little mouse“, Raphael solemly chimed in.

„What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!“, Astarion hissed.

„Aight Imma tell you quickly so you don’t make him punish you a-fucking-gain!“, Korilla talked over him. „When Raphael claimed ya, he put a charm on you. It also serves as a block in your mind, a protection from your old master. So, if we remove it, we can follow you back to him.“

Astarion stared at her, then Raphael. „You‘ve both lost it!“, he yelled, getting up from his chair. „He‘ll take me back, I can’t… if he knows I‘m there, he’ll… gods I don’t know WHAT he‘ll do to me!“

Korilla stood as well, raising her hands pleadingly. „Astarion, he won‘t get to touch you. I‘ll be right there with you.“

„Oh you think because you can murder some starving spawn you can beat Cazador?“, he snarled. „He‘ll just snatch me back up and then have you for dessert!“ He bared his fangs at Raphael. „And of course you aren’t coming, are you?“

The devil said nothing, tail curling and uncurling as he stared him down.

„Are you?!“

„I can’t, pet. My father would feel my presence near your old master immediately. It would derail everything. Sending Korilla is a risk as well, as she is affiliated with me. But with any luck, you won’t enter the vampire‘s lair. Only point us to it. I will have Korilla put my protection back into place as soon as possible.“

Astarion growled at him, ready to attack. As he gathered some air into his lungs to break into a tirade, there was a brief incantation behind him, the snap of dwarfen fingers, and no sound exited his mouth.

He was screaming, he was sure. At the top of his lungs, in fact.

But there was no sound to be heard.

He whirled around to Korilla and saw her raise her hands placatingly. Her mouth was moving, yet he couldn’t hear her speak.

„Don’t fucking hex me!“, he shouted soundlessly, trying to exit this bubble of silence.

She blocked him, entering his space and grasping him by the arm, her voice suddenly in his head. „Calm the fuck down. I‘m doing this to help you, before you fuck yourself over even more. Just keep your pretty mouth shut!“

She gestured to him and tapped the side of her head.

Still seething, he opted to think his answer rather than speak it. „I‘m not letting him, or you, or anyone… send me back to Cazador! I‘ll die first!“ He ripped his hand free. „I mean it, fuck off!“

„You’re being an idiot. I can handle Cazador. You‘ll be perfectly safe.“

„Killed many vampire lords, have you?“, he snapped.

„Yours will be my first“, she replied. „I consider it an honor, actually. And I‘ll make sure it hurts, sweetheart.“

„You don’t know what it’s like having him in your head. You can’t ask me to do this! Fuck Raphael, and fuck his plan!“

„We aren’t asking. Raph doesn’t have to ask. He owns you, understand? He wasn’t obligated to shield your mind at all, that was a kindness.“

Incredulous, Astarion scoffed.

„Just so you both know“, Raphael chimed in, his voice louder in Astarion’s head than even his own thoughts. „I‘m still keeping count of the insults.“

They both froze, Astarion turning back to Raphael.

Smirking, the devil looked from Astarion to Korilla, and back. „That’s three more lashes for you, pet.“

Astarion had no good retort, so he didn’t answer.

Korilla, however tried to justify herself. She dropped her spell, speaking out loud again. „I was just trying to help. We can’t afford to lose any more time fighting about this.“

„I‘m not fighting“, replied the devil. „You’re going, Astarion, tonight. And Korilla will of course be with you.“

His flaming eyes now flicked over his warlock, calculating, trying to read her.

Seeing the inevitability of what was going to happen, Astarion replied: „The contract… You have to protect me from Cazador, otherwise…!“

The devil interrupted him. „Clause fourty-three, section 5: The debtor is not to come to physical harm inflicted by the vampire lord, and his former master, Cazador Szarr. Any permanent damage inflicted by this individual will instantly conclude the contract, teleporting the debtor to the Underdark settlement of Kandak. In the case of this event, the benefector forfeits any rights to the debtor’s soul.“ He sneered at Astarion. „Do you really think I‘d risk losing everything when I‘m so close? When I already own you so completely?“

„But Cazador will harm me!“, shouted Astarion. „Just his compulsion to return to him would…!“

„Hurt, yes. But not physically. It won’t leave a lasting mark.“

Astarion stared up at the devil, head empty of words for now. There was nothing but raw unbridled panic, searing, white-hot, more so than even Raphael’s hellfire.

How could he have missed this? He could have asked to be safe from the influence of his former master, and he’d be perfectly fine now.

Stupid.

„Fuck“, was all Astarion was able to formulate.

„How very elaborate“, Raphael concluded. „Are you ready to go, then, Korilla?“

„I think I have everything I need“, she replied. „Yeah, I‘m ready for tonight.“

Astarion stood between them, shoulders sagging. „If I refuse… I assume you’ll…“

„You don’t get to refuse“, snarled the devil.

At the same time, Korilla chimed back in, silently in Astarion’s mind: „Sweetheart, stop. It’s no use.“

Raphael continued (it was difficult keeping up with both of them). „Your participation isn’t needed, though I‘d welcome it.“ Then his eyes moved to Korilla. „And you: It’s really very touching how you try to protect him, but it’s pointless. This one is always out to get himself hurt. One of his best qualities, I would say. Never a dull moment.“

Astarion’s knees began to shake. There really was nothing he could do. Raphael could displace him anywhere he wanted, anytime he wanted. And he was free to remove any protection he placed in his mind. It hadn’t been in the contract.

He could scream and shout all he wanted, cry and beg, negotiate and scramble, it wouldn’t help him.

So, he did the only thing he could do.

Astarion drew himself up and straightened his jacket, putting on his mask of haughty indifference. It was well-worn, but had always served him.

„Well“, he sighed, actually managing to sound reasonably exasperated. „I suppose I better get myself ready, then. Unless there’s anything else you need of me, master.“

Raphael considered him with his eyes narrowed for a few long seconds. The silence settled between them like a shroud.

„You‘ll be safe with Korilla. It‘ll be but a moment of discomfort, followed by an eternity of freedom from your curse. Power beyond your wildest dreams. Revenge, Astarion.“

„Oh, I know“, Astarion replied flippantly. „In fact, I can’t wait, darlings!“

„He‘s scaring me now, boss“, said Korilla.

Astarion bared his fangs at her in a false smile. „Since you don’t give a flying shit about me being afraid, why should I care?“ He walked past her. „Deal with it. I‘ll see you at sunset, I‘m sure.“

Then he left for the door, hoping Raphael would let him. It would look more than silly for him to be dragged back like an unruly puppy.

But the devil let him walk out. „See you at sundown, little mouse.“

Astarion sat in his room staring at the ring ln his finger, watching the hours trickle by.

Nobody came by.

No Haarlep trying to cheer him up, distract him, or even assault him (Astarion would take physical assault over having to wait for Raphael to deliver him straight to Cazador).

No Korilla being all soft and caring, hugging and holding him.

Nothing.

No-one.

Astarion considered destroying his room, just to so something rather than nothing. Just to have some power over SOMETHING. Some semblance of control.

But he had seen Raphael and Haarlep vanish every mess he had made. So even breaking things wasn’t really an option.

Astarion jumped when a goblet with blood appeared on the nightstand.

The scent was obvious. It was Raphael’s.

A peace offering? Really?

Astarion stepped over to the nightstand, picked up the vessel, then hurled it at the door, causing an unholy clank and splatter as the steaming blood stained the door, walls, furniture and ceiling.

A feral and wild thing within Astarion mourned the loss of the excellent blood, urging him to lick it up, no not let it go to waste (it wouldn’t have been the first time, by a long shot), but he was fed well enough to afford himself some pride.

For the remaining hours, Astarion was frozen, right until he felt the pull of being displaced.

As he reappeared in Raphael’s office, he felt strangely empty, hollow (which was fitting, seeing how Cazador would very soon fill every inch of him with his compulsion). His heart a heavy clump of ice. It was hard to breathe like this, but he didn‘t really have to.

So he stopped. His body went quiet, still.

He didn’t look at Raphael, or Korilla. Let the devil lift his hand and cast something on him. Stayed still as Korilla turned him around and tried calming him down with a soothing voice.

He didn’t even need soothing, because he wasn’t panicking. He was quiet and empty, like was befitting of the puppet Cazador would make him once more.

He wasn’t even shaking, not at all.

Korilla squeezed his hands, giving up on getting him to reply.

Raphael kissed him on the forehead and whispered something to him. The heat of his breath was almost enough to reawaken Astarion‘s spirit, but not quite.

Then he led him to the portal, his hand lingering on the small of his back, Korilla took him by the arm.

She walked him through the portal.

The moment Astarion found himself on the balcony of Sharess‘ Caress, Astarion felt a sharp pain in his head.

He howled, went to his knees, clamping both hands over his ears as a terrifyingly familiar voice screamed in his mind, rending every thought, everything he was, every emotion, everything.

Until Astarion was nothing but fear.

His body stood. His hands lowered to his sides, unassuming.
Cazador’s presence in his head filled every inch of him, every hollow little crevice of his mind, and all Astarion could hear was:

„COME, BOY.“

And he could do nothing but obey, walking towards the edge of the roof (some part of him, smothered under Cazador’s influence, noticed Korilla reaching out for him, calling for him), and jumping down.

He landed without a sound, people on the street yelling and shouting, hands grabbing onto him, steadying him, myriads of voices asking if he was hurt, but Astarion brushed off their touches, briskly walking down the street, walking, quickly, faster, because he had to

„COME, BOY.“

So, Astarion followed the call, turning corners without thinking, passing people without seeing them. There wasn’t anything else he could do (he couldn’t even get angry about it). His head felt like it was splitting open, breaking apart, and all that Astarion was was freely spilling out.

But he didn‘t need to be here. Cazador’s command kept him moving. His presence wasn’t required.

Astarion blindly walked around a corner, staggering when he hit something with his foot, then hurried on without assessing the damage. A warm body blocked his way, hands grasping for him, and Astarion walked on without seeing any of it, brushing it all aside. His feet carried him down the alleyway, then around another corner, across a street, then onwards, onwards…

COME. TO ME, BOY!

And then it stopped.

Astarion, still carried by his own momentum, stumbled and went to his knees, clutching his head, rolling himself into a ball.

The cobblestones were wet and hard against his knees and arms, but he was grateful, because he was feeling them again.

„Astarion?“ Warm hands were touching his shoulders, shaking him, stroking his cheek, his arms. „Sweetheart, you’re okay.“

He couldn’t quite get himself to reply. „F…“
He was afraid for Cazador’s voice to come out if he opened his mouth.

„Yes, you’re upset and afraid, I get that. But sweetheart, you’re walking straight to the old palace.“

Astarion glared up at her from between his fingers. „He‘s walked me here, you utter fucking idiot! I don’t even know where…“ He stopped, taking in the street around him. He really was close to his old home, two streets away, in fact. „Fuck…“ He lowered his head back to the cobble stones.

„You think he‘s hiding in the palace?“

„I don’t know!“, Astarion hissed. „Last I checked it was abandoned. Now get me the hells home!“

He tried picking himself up, swaying and holding his head, and promptly staggered into Korilla, who caught him and guided him onto a crouch.

„We need you to keep going. The palace is empty. If he’s calling you there, we have to know where exactly…“

„No!“ Astarion shook his head. „No way in the hells!“ Shaking, he clutched at her arms. „I can’t… stop you. But this can’t be the only way! You don’t know… you have no idea… it hurts!“

Korilla bit her lip. „I‘m really not supposed to take any chances.“

„Don’t let him have me again!“, he sobbed.

„I suppose I can… I can scout ahead. Can you wait here? Are you alright?“

„I‘ll wait“, Astarion yelped. „I‘ll wait… Just… I can’t…“

„I know, sweetheart. It’s alright.“ She squeezed his hand. „I‘ll be only a few minutes. Once I‘m sure, I‘ll get you home, yes?“

„Yes…“

„Aight. Sit tight.“

Korilla hurried past a corner, casting an invisibility spell as she went, leaving Astarion
alone in the dark and dingy street corner.

He did his best calming his nerves, taking deep breaths to ground himself. It did little to improve his rattled state.

The sound of silent footsteps tore him from his struggle, and he got to his feet, stumbling against a crate.

Around the corner, there was the sound of a rapier being drawn, and Astarion froze like a fawn in a clearing.

He knew the sound of this rapier. And he knew it was silver, knew who wielded it.

There was still time to run. He could still run, or hide, he was stealthy enough to quickly meld with the shadows, but as recently hollowed out by Cazador‘s influence as he was, he couldn’t quite find his legs.

He didn’t feel like the vampire assassin Raphael had named him, he was just a spawn, a puppet without stings. Alone and utterly screwed, because Korilla was gone.

Astarion swayed, but couldn’t quite puppeteer himself into safety. He was too small to move his form effectively, too stunned to think clearly and shake off the shock he had just experienced.

The footsteps grew closer, Astarion panicking but staying where he was, frozen in fear.

Then, inevitably, Wyll entered the street, weapon drawn.

Chapter Text

Wyll‘s gaze was level, stern and unforgiving as he gripped his rapier tighter.

„Don’t try to run“, he said. „Or fight. You‘ll regret it.“

Astarion managed to bristle just a little. He was still reeling from experiencing Cazador’s compulsion mere minutes ago, shaking with the sheer terror of it. „So you can skewer me? Stake me? No, darling, I would think not.“

Wyll wasn’t moving closer.

Why not?

Astarion wasn’t armed, and quite obviously not in his best form.

With his eyes narrowed, he eyed the boy, his stance, the rapier pointed at him.

Wyll came a bit closer, and Astarion stepped back to match him.

„Give up“, said Wyll again. „And this doesn’t have to be a fight.“

Astarion snarled and took another step back.

Then, a tiny click to his left.

Astarion whipped around, narrowly dodging an arrow. A second one followed too quickly for him to react, hit him in the shoulder with unnatural force, and violently threw him back. It hurt, burned his flesh from within… Magic of some sort.

Astarion howled, but grabbed the shaft and ripped the arrow out, then got up and ran for his life. Wyll was close enough to completely subdue him, if he didn’t run right now.

He had no idea who had shot him, and where exactly from, but he needed to run, desperately.

Something whizzed past his head, and he ducked and stumbled out of the way, then he was struck down by a blunt force to the back. The power lifted him off his feet and hurled him down the street, slamming him down on the cobble stones.

Astarion wheezed trying to get some air back into his body. He scrambled back to his feet, staggered a few steps further, then fell back to his hands and knees.

One heartbeat later he was tackled to the ground and found himself in a tussle with Wyll, who had caught up with him.

The man tried keeping Astarion flat on his belly, to tie him down and keep out of reach of his fangs. He tried catching Astarion with the rapier, incapacitating him with a single cut, but Astarion fought and twisted, until he managed to dig his teeth into Wylls arm, keeping him from using his weapon.

The boy growled and tried dislodging him, striking him on the head, but Astarion didn‘t relent, biting even deeper, tearing into the man’s flesh, like an animal trying to get free. The blood was so good he wished he had time to savor its taste.

„Hells…!“, cursed the boy. „Stop this! Or I‘ll…!“

Astarion didn‘t care what Wyll threatened him with. He wouldn’t be able to hurt him if Astarion drained him dry.

Then, Wyll began to chant something Astarion didn‘t understand.

Magic that took this long to cast… couldn’t be good.
He had to get the fuck away.

Astarion released Wylls Arm, then closed his eyes and turned into his bat form, his body beneath Wylls losing its form and vanishing.

The hunter gasped a muffled „What the hells!“ when Astarion just slipped away like that, and stared after him, dumbfounded.

Astarion, freed, took the form of the bat and hastily flapped his wings to gain height and hurry away out of reach, but Wyll recovered faster than expected, and jumped after him. Astarion dodged a swat of his right hand, but was caught in the boy’s left.

He screeched and batted his wings to get away, bit down into Wyll’s glove like a wild animal, but he couldn’t penetrate the thick leather.

Wyll covered him with his free hand, muffling his squeals.

Trapped in the darkness of Wylls hands, Astarion immediately panicked. He turned back into mist, flitting out from between the man’s fingers, then materialised again, breaking straight into a run, but if Wyll had magic, he could just strike him down with a spell, like he had before.

So, Astarion stopped and turned around, baring his fangs, still dripping with the boy‘s blood.

„Don‘t you fucking come closer!“

Wyll had his hand raised, ready to attack. In his right, he still had the rapier clutched tightly, despite the bleeding wound Astarion had inflicted. „Can’t do that, vampire. Give up. You can’t win.“

Astarion backed away against the wall, his knees wobbling. He was losing blood, and whatever magic had been on that arrow, it sapped his strength.

„Let me… let me go… !“, he said, voice shaking.

„I can’t.“

Astarion’s eyes flicked upwards. Wyll couldn’t block this escape route, could he? He could just walk up the wall, but he’d be an easy target. If he was smaller, and flew, he’d be that much harder to hit and bring down.

Quickly, he took the bat’s form again, shooting straight up towards the dark night sky.

He could make it. He could escape the hunter! Get back home, away from Cazador, away from the palace, home to his devil, to safety…

A powerful, violent gust of wind hit Astarion from the side and slammed him against the wall with enough force to knock him out. There was a brilliant flash of pain, then nothing but darkness.
Astarion was distantly aware he was falling, but his mind teetered very close to the abyss of unconsciousness. If he succumbed… Wyll would capture and kill him…

But then he slammed to the hard cobblestone street, and his senses were snuffed out all at once.

Astarion gave a squeaky groan, rubbing his throbbing head. His tiny claws caught in the soft fur behind his ears.

He started awake, and found himself stuck in a glass bowl, like a damn goldfish. An opening at the top was sealed shut with a metal device.

He was still a bat.

If only Astarion had opposable thumbs… he was sure he could break this open. But as a bat he was rather clumsy with what would constitute as hands.

He peeked outside, found himself in a small room, with a few tables, chests, and a dingy lamp brightening the surroundings in dim orange light.

There was Wyll, discussing something with a frankly gigantic tiefling woman. Their voices were muffled through the glass, but Astarion‘s excellent bat ears still barely made out the words:

„But it’s so cute…“

„It’s a vampire, Karlach. He just looks like that for the moment… and he’s easier to handle that way. Gods… I just… what do I do?“

The tiefling shrugged. „I dunno. Tried just… I dunno… talking to him?“

„Twice now, he’s fooled me. Twice! I hear him out, he’s gonna trick me, again. Only this time, it’ll cost me my life. No. If she wants him, she can have him for all I care.“

„She’s fucking evil! What do you think she’s gonna do to him?“

„I don’t care…“ Wyll crossed his arms. „He’s a monster. I‘d have killed him if not for her explicit orders. Look what he did to my arm! What more proof do you need he‘s dangerous?“

The woman grinned. „That’s barely a scratch, mate! I‘ve done worse to fuckers who wanted me dead.“ She raised her hands placatingly. „Look, he‘s been roaming the city for a while, right? No piles of bloodless corpses. Maybe he’s not what you think. Let’s hear him out. C‘mon, don’t let that bitch turn you into some asshole.“

Wyll gave an exasperated sigh. „Talk to the bat, yes?“

„Yes!“

„I…“ Wyll threw a glance towards the cage. „Aw hells, how long has he been up?“

Fuck.
Astarion sat up straighter and cheekily met Wyll‘s gaze.

„How the hells can he even turn into a bat? There’s something majorly wrong…“, he muttered, coming closer. „What’s the deal with you?“ He nudged the glass prison with his rapier.

Astarion could have replied, regardless of Wyll‘s ability to understand.
But he didn‘t reply. Wyll didn‘t deserve it.

He had cut him one too many times.

„Ah.“ Wyll narrowed his eyes. „I see. By the way, don’t try turning back. The glass is enchanted.“

Astarion hissed.

„Maybe you can’t speak, but you understand me. Good.“ Wyll narrowed his eyes at him. „You are one of Cazador Szarr‘s spawn, aren’t you?“

After thinking about it for a moment, Astarion stuck out his tiny tongue at the boy.

Wyll snorted a humourless laugh. „Fair enough. Just remember I saved you from this dungeon cell. Doesn’t that count for anything?“

No, Astarion decided. Wyll had saved him once, yes, but he had hurt him many times more than just once.

He shook his head.

„Fine. I can still hurt you“, he groused. „Maybe you’ll feel a bit more talkative if I…“

„Aw, Wyll!“, that was the tiefling. „You know you don’t have the stomach for torture!“

„Hells, maybe torturing a human, yes! But he’s not human. He’s not an elf. He’s a monster.“

Rude.

„I‘ve seen people more monster than him“, she retorted.

Wyll narrowed his eyes. „He’s not leaving me a choice.“

Astarion wasn’t impressed. If this princeling wanted to torture him, let him try. Regardless of Wyll‘s disposition, he‘d have to open the glass prison, and then Astarion would escape, and…

He threw a glance towards the window and found it covered in dark curtains. Daylight was doing its best to squeeze its way in.

Fuck.

Astarion couldn’t run.

He had to stall until nightfall and get away then. Perhaps he could pretend to comply with Wyll‘s questioning… gain his trust, and then wait until he let his guard down.

„Open the curtains“, Wyll instructed his companion. „Just a sliver should be enough. That is if the sunlight even hurts him.“

Oh, it would. Astarion wasn’t wearing the amulet this time.

Uneasily, Astarion shifted in his glass prison, scratching at the smooth surface.

He shuddered when the curtain was opened. A blinding beam of sunlight eagerly flooded the room.

Karlach said something along the lines of „Don’t hurt him, Wyll. I don’t feel like he deserves it.“

Wyll grabbed the glass bowl with both hands, lifted it off the table. „I need answers.“ Slowly, he turned towards the light, then adressed Astarion once more. „I don’t want to do this. Just comply. Give up, spawn.“

Bristling both with rage and fear, Astarion screeched at the boy, flapping his wings in a futile attempt to get out and away.

Raphael, he thought. Why didn’t Raphael rescue him already? Couldn’t he sense Astarion was in trouble? Couldn’t he hear his silent calls for help?

Inevitably, Wyll walked towards the window, holding the glass cage with Astarion trapped inside out towards it.

The sun‘s rays began to tingle uncomfortably on his fur, even though he was still relatively safe in the shadows.

„Last chance“, Wyll said solemnly.

Staring at the single gold ray, Astarion lost his nerve. He screeched and scrambled, pressing as far away from the window as he could.

„No, no, no..!“ He babbled, didn’t care anymore if anyone could understand him. „Fuck, no!“

„Ready to talk?“, Wyll shouted, holding him a bit closer threateningly.

Astarion, covering his face with a wing, nodded, shame pooling in his gut. He did his best glaring at Wyll, but he knew his eyes were wide with fear.

Wyll huffed a humourless laugh. „Good to know you‘ve got some common sense.“ He put down the glass bowl a bit harder than necessary, causing Astarion tumble and to hiss.

„First question, again: Are you one of Lord Szarr‘s spawn?“

Astarion reluctantly uncurled himself and nodded.

„Ah. And where is he hiding? How many more spawn does he have? How can it be another spawn told me you were gone?“

Astarion gave an unhappy squeak at the onslaught of questions.

Wyll blinked at him, stopping the barrage, then reconsidered. „Do you know where he’s hiding?“

Astarion shook his head.

„But you have a bond with him. You should know where he is, at all times! Are you just not allowed to say?“

Astarion gave another angry squeak. He‘d give the boy Cazador‘s damn adress if he could.

„I don’t…“ Wyll waved away. „Fine, next question: How many spawn are left, you not included?“

Astarion tapped the glass twice with a tiny claw, producing two distinct clinking noises.

„Two?“

He nodded, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Wyll tapped his chin thoughtfully. „There were four just a little while ago. I haven’t killed one since… Someone else is hunting them“, he concluded. „And you slipped your master’s control somehow, didn’t you?“

Astarion cocked his head, unwilling to reveal too much. This was going too fast. He needed to buy some time. But the sunlight was still in the room, the threat palpable. So, begrudgingly, he nodded.

„I knew it!“, Wyll exclaimed, excitedly gripping the jar with both hands. „I knew it! Alright, did you do it after I freed you from the dungeon?“

Another hesitant nod.

Behind Wyll, Karlach came closer. „Can I close the curtains? Look at him…“

Astarion hated her for her pity, and yet wanted to thank her.

Distractedly, Wyll turned his head towards her. „What? Oh, yeah. Sure.“ Then he looked back at Astarion. „So, how did you escape? You just vanished into thin air… But you are a spawn, aren’t you? You can’t be a full vampire.“

Astarion nodded.

„How does a spawn disappear into thin air…or turn into a bat? And free himself from his master?“, Wyll mused.

Annoyedly, Astarion puffed out his fur. All questions he couldn’t answer with a nod or a shake of his head, even if he wanted to. His contract didn’t allow him to speak of Raphael.

He was feeling rather undignified, trapped in this tiny form like a goldfish in a jar, helpless and alone. If he could just go home and forget about this nightmare…

Raphael…! Please, Raphael!

„I want to ask you a few more questions… In fact, I‘d like to actually talk“, Wyll said finally. „If I allow you out of the glass, will you answer my questions?“

Astarion perked up. Really? Was Wyll actually foolish enough to release him?

„I‘ll remind you that it’s daytime“, Wyll warned him sternly. „You’re injured. The house is warded. We doused that arrow with holy water, so don’t expect to be able to fight us. If you come out, you’ll be tame, and calm. Or we‘ll put you back in your prison.“

Astarion bristled and gave a tiny hiss.

Except for being able to turn back and actually speak, what good would come of leaving the glass bowl?

He‘d be in pain thanks to the arrow wound. Trapped in a warded house with two enemies who seemed more likely to put down an injured vampire spawn than squash a bat. All in all, Astarion felt he‘d be safer in here, as he was.

„So, will you help us? I promise no more harm will come to you.“

Astarion gulped, weighing his options, then he shook his head.

„What? But you…!“

„Wyll, he probably can’t“, said Karlach, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. „What if he’s compelled?“

„Not by his vampire master“, groused Wyll. „It couldn’t be. I… wait.“ He leaned in closer. „It’s a devil, isn’t it?“

Astarion‘s fur stood on edge, claws fruitlessly scratching the bottom of his glass prison. He didn’t look at Wyll.

„It is!“, Wyll exclaimed. „Oh, that explains so much! A devil took you from the palace before we could get to you, a devil gave you these powers, freed you from your master, ordered you to steal from me… It all makes sense now. You disappeared to the hells…!“

Unable to speak up or distract Wyll, Astarion sagged. His body seemed so much heavier now, all of a sudden. Now what?

„Seriously?!“, shouted Karlach from behind the boy. „What is it with the devils in the city?“

Devils? Plural? What in the hells was going on?

Before Astarion could even try making sense of this, Wyll lifted his glass prison once more.

„You’re changing back. Come out, now.“ He unscrewed something at the top of the jar, then removed the lid and made a grab for Astarion, who hissed and batted at his fingers with his wings, ferociously snapping his tiny teeth.

Wyll scoffed, withdrew his hand, then promptly turned the jar upside down.

With nothing to hold on to, Astarion uselessly scrabbled at the smooth glass surface, screeching as he slid down, then out and onto the wooden table.

The impact wasn’t that bad, but Astarion still gave a muffled yelp, hastily trying to get his wings in order. If he could fly up and hide somewhere under the ceiling, maybe he could wait it out until nightfall?

But Wyll grabbed him again with a gloved hand. „Right. If you turn back, I won’t have to hurt you.“

Astarion bared his teeth at the boy.

„I‘ll put you down over there, and leave you some space“, Wyll suggested. „I just want to talk.“

So he kept saying, but Astarion didn’t believe him.

The boy sat him down on a chair and stepped back, both hands raised. „Right. If you can turn back, go ahead.“

Astarion huffed, eyeing the ceiling. It was remarkably well built, with very few gaps for him to squeeze into. Not good.

If he was quick enough, he might make it to the window, slip out into the sunlight… he‘d die, but at least he‘d go out on his own terms.

But fuck, Astarion didn’t want to die.

He eyed Wyll‘s stern expression, then Karlach, who seemed a bit more sympathetic. Was there any way they’d let him live, even if he complied?

The tiefling ran a hand through her face. Her red skin reminded him of Raphael, as did her scent, which carried just a hint of sulphur.

„Look at him shaking…“, she said. „Poor thing. Come on, maybe we can help you. We aren’t the bad guys here, honest!“

Astarion had trouble believing she could help him. And maybe they really weren’t the villains of this story, but no hero had ever done anything for Astarion. He was the monster, after all.

Monsters got killed, so heroes could save the day.

Oh well, if he turned back, he’d at least get to tell Wyll what he thought of him and his silly little hero-act.

Astarion turned into mist, then into his true form, clinging to the chair. He had wanted to stand, but the pain in his shoulder instantly forced him down, knees failing.

Groaning, he held the wound, trying to get his bearings, then leaned back, meeting Wyll‘s gaze with as scalding a look as he could muster.

The boy gave a sigh of relief. „Good. Now we can talk.“ He raised his rapier, tip pointed at Astarion.

Astarion eyed the weapon. There were a good nine feet between them, but he didn’t appreciate being unarmed and being threatened. „Careful, darling. If you keep waving that thing around, I‘ll have to assume you’re compensating for something.“

„You‘ve got fangs, I‘ve got my weapon“, the boy replied coldly, though he did lower the rapier a little.

It was hardly fair.

„You’re not exactly making me want to help you“, Astarion said, eyes narrowing.

„You’re not making me want to let you live. What’s it going to be, spawn?“

„You kill me, Ravengard“, lilted Astarion, „and you can wave your answers goodbye. If you want to talk…“ He hissed, stopped speaking. His shoulder was throbbing. Steam rose from the wound, a lingering effect of the holy water. „… If you want me to talk, I expect something in return.“

„That’s fair“, Karlach chimed in.

„You want to be let go so you can jump and kill some poor sod in the streets? I don’t think so.“

Astarion bared his fangs in a half-hearted snarl. „I just don’t want to go back to my old master. He’s looking for me. It’s only a matter of time until he finds me here. I assume we’re still in Baldur’s Gate?“

„I can promise you he won’t get you back“,
Wyll said reluctantly.

„And you‘ll release me, alive“, Astarion added.

Wyll gave a humourless chuckle. „You really do have a contract with a devil, don’t you? The way you’re trying to bargain with me…“

„And if I did? Would that satisfy your curiosity?“, Astarion snapped.

„Only if you tell me the details. Who are you contracted to, and what are you doing for them in return?“

„I think I‘ll ask a question of my own first:“, Astarion snarled. „What do you care? Just hurry back home to your castle and enjoy your balls, sugar cakes, and women. Leave me the hells alone.“

„Baldur’s Gate is my city. I won’t let it fall to monsters.“

„You missed the monster, darling. Hunted his unfortunate slaves instead.“

„A spawn is still a dangerous monster“, replied Wyll testily. „Don’t try to distract from
that fact. I‘m not stupid.“

„Could have fooled me“, Astarion sighed. He was feeling increasingly dizzy, courtesy of the holy water, no doubt. In fact, he was beginning to feel rather sick.

„Alright, enough of this!“, shouted Wyll. „Why did you break into the castle and steal from me? What does your new master even want with the knife you took?“

„Well, obviously he needs it. I‘m just a lowly spawn, I couldn’t possibly understand… the…“ He gagged. „The intricacies…“

„You alright, fangs…?“, asked Karlach tentatively.

Then, suddenly and violently, Astarion was vomiting. A mouthful of blood, congealed and rancid, splattered onto the floor as he coughed up his last meal. A bitter surge of bile followed, and Astarion nearly toppled out of the chair with the force of the sudden onslaught.

„Gods!“, he heard Wyll curse.

Retching, Astarion clung to the chair, shivering with the aftershocks of the heaves. „Ugh.“

„Whose blood is that, spawn?!“, Wyll shouted, rapier pointing at the puddle of half digested blood. He had come close enough to strike now. „Don’t for a second pretend you aren’t as bad as your vampire master!“

Wyll wouldn’t believe him this blood had been given freely, so Astarion wiped his mouth and hissed. „Oh, loads of people. I killed and… and drained practically half of Baldur‘s Gate. It’s yours, you idiot!“ He shot him a withering look. „Are you going to stab me now?“

„Do you WANT me to stake you?“, shouted the boy. „I… just tell me who you serve! You signed a contract! With whom? And what did you trade for your freedom!?“

Astarion spat out some residual blood. „Since you seem so wonderfully familiar with devils… you must… you…“ He gagged again, tasted more bile, and clutched his injured arm. „You must know I can’t talk about it. Not that I would, if I could.“

„So that’s it?“, Wyll exclaimed, exasperated. „You expect me to release you? When you give me nothing?“

Astarion glowered at the boy. „What I can tell you, Ravengard, is that your wish to rid the city from monsters is going to come true, if you release me and go back to your duke‘s life.“ He winced when his shoulder throbbed, the searing pain spreading. „Just forget you ever saw me.“ A flippant gesture with his hand sputtered into a weak non-committal wave.

„You’re going to kill your old master?“

„I‘m doing my best, darling. But this very handsome duke‘s son keeps getting in my way.“

Karlach bellowed a laugh. „You‘ve got nerve. I like it.“

„Please, just…!“ Wyll broke off, then started again. „I can’t just walk away now! I‘m so close.“

Astarion snarled. „So was I! And then you two had to come along and mess it all up…!“

„I…“ Wyll seemed lost for words for a second. „I‘m not the villain here!“ He looked exactly his age this moment, which was to say like a child. Astarion wished he didn’t have to kill him, but he would if it meant getting out.

The tiefling chimed in. „Can we pause this for a second? Fangs?“ She crouched next to his chair.

„Don’t call me that…“, Astarion groused.

„Well, I don’t know your name, and I don’t think you’ll give it to me…“ She shrugged. „But you don’t look so good.“

„You‘d think maybe the holy water on that arrow you shot me with might have something to do with it!“, Astarion shouted, but quickly found out he really didn’t have the energy for it.

He ran out of air and sagged off the chair, Karlach catching him before he hit the floor.

„Wyll, what do we do?“

„Tie him up. He‘ll come to eventually.“

„What if he…?“

„Hells, he‘s already dead, Karlach! He’s in pain, but he‘ll come around… help me tie him up.“

Astarion floundered, trying to squirm out of her arms. „Fuck…“

„Wyll, look at him. He can’t hurt anyone like this.“

Just for that, Astarion really wanted to bite her. He didn’t even care he‘d be stabbed for it. But he couldn’t find it in him to even lift his head anymore. His body was growing stiff. Some holy water this must have been.

„He‘d rip out your throat if he could“, Wyll replied, rolled Astarion off her lap and onto the floor.

„You wanted to talk…“, Astarion hissed as Wyll twisted his arms onto his back (he could do very little to resist it). „And I talked. Some hero you are…“

„You can keep talking once I tied you up“, said Wyll. To Karlach, he added: „Night is falling. He‘ll sober up, and then he’ll do anything to get away. He‘s more dangerous than he seems.“

Astarion caught Karlach‘s pitying gaze. It was obvious she wasn’t comfortable with the way he was being treated, but she didn‘t argue any further.

He could still turn into a bat and slip away come nightfall. If he could recover.

This was fine. He could still escape.

He could still…

Astarion stirred awake tied to the chair, wrists and ankles tied to the wood, another rope securing his upper body to the backrest.

In the back of the room, Karlach was sleeping, while Wyll sat opposite him, eyes fixed on him. The boy looked tired, very much so, yet his gaze was sharp.

Astarion felt better, the holy water having cleared from his system, but he was exhausted himself, not to mention hungry.

After testing the rope holding him, Astarion gave a sigh. „My, whatever will you do to me?“ He took care to smirk and sound suggestive enough to fluster the boy.

Evidently, it worked. Wyll‘s jaw clenched, then he abruptly stood and came closer. His rapier remained sheathed, so (Astarion assumed) he felt safe enough with Astarion tightly bound. „Enough of this“, he hissed, then seemed to temper himself. „I was… I was going to ask your name.“

„Ah, so we’re done with the blades and threats? It’s a heart-to-heart now, is it?“ Astarion sneered. „Please. You don’t have to pretend I‘m anything other than a monster to you.“

„It would be easier if I knew what to call you, because otherwise I‘m going to stick with „spawn“. But I‘ve killed a spawn before, and you don’t much seem like him.“ He shrugged. „But I can’t force you.“

„You could try“, said Astarion replied scornfully. „By the way, is it Wylliam? I really wouldn’t want to use a nickname on a famed monster hunter like you. Or should I go with Ravengard?“

„Don’t“, replied the boy stiffly. „It’s just Wyll. Ravengard, that’s… that’s my father.“

„Aw, shoes too big to fill for you?“

„May I know your name? Please.“

After another moment of glowering, Astarion relented. If Wyll wanted to see him as more of a person, who was he to stop him? „My name’s Astarion.“

„Astarion“, Wyll repeated slowly. „Thank you.“

„So, are you going to use my name when you threaten me now? Or are you trying to appeal to my better nature?“

„If your contract doesn’t allow you to speak of your master, there’s really no point in threatening you“, said Wyll. „I want to talk about what you’re allowed to say. The dagger you stole from me. Why did you do it?“

„Darling, you’re the one who stole it“, he clarified. „We both know it belonged to my old master. In case you don’t know yet, his name is Cazador Szarr. He used to call it his „neeedle“. Used it to torment his spawn, so I wasn’t happy having to touch it.“

Wyll blinked at him, obviously surprised at the lengthy answer. „Ah. So, why were you told to steal it? Did your new master need it for something?“

„Well, yes“, Astarion replied. „He wouldn’t have made me enter the palace otherwise.“

„Ah. He used it for some ritual, I assume? Can you tell me?“

Astarion wasn’t sure, but shook his head regardless. Wyll didn’t need to know everything. After all, Astarion was only waiting for sunset, then he’d be gone.

„I see.“

Wyll was actually buying it? Well, Astarion should have just told him his name much sooner.

The boy sat back down, tapping a finger against his chin in thought. „So, I don’t… I don’t understand why you traded one master for another. You do have to serve this devil. You signed a contract.“

Bristling, Astarion bared his fangs. „You saw what Cazador did to me. Days and weeks in the kennels spent without our skin were normal. Every day Godey would come and make sure our bones stayed broken. We were starved. Forced to use our bodies to lure prey for our master. Treated worse than dogs.“

Wyll looked stricken.

„200 years of living like this, then he vanishes when I come looking for shelter and protection from the monster hunter who‘s chasing me through the palace! Tell me you wouldn’t have accepted an offer to get out. Any offer at all!“

Slowly, the boy nodded. „So, you don’t regret it?“

„Haven’t for one second“, Astarion replied haughtily. „I‘m still a slave, but I haven’t gone hungry.“

„So, why are you even here?“

„I told you. We’re looking for Cazador. He‘s hiding, but since he’s also looking for me, I have to play the bait.“

„Wanting to kill your master, I understand…“, said Wyll. „But the other spawn? Why? Wouldn’t you want to see them free?“

Astarion flinched. The words hit hard, and naturally reminded him of his original predicament. „It’s… not up to me.“

„I see.“

After taking a steadying breath, Astarion asked: „We want the same thing. Cazador is responsible for taking countless lives, for much longer than either of us have been around. If you‘d release me, I could help put an end to it.“

Wyll was quiet for a long time, staring at the floor boards between his feet. „If I release you, how do I know you won’t turn around and drain me dry?“

Scoffing, Astarion replied: „Would you believe me that I‘d really rather get this all over and done with and just go home?“ When the boy didn’t look convinced, Astarion added: „I‘m not constantly starving anymore. I can control myself.“

„But do you want to?“

„The longer you keep me here, darling, the less I do.“

Wyll gave a humourless chuckle. „I… Hells, I want to believe you. But I know it would be an unbelievably foolish thing to do.“

„I‘m not going to argue that, darling“, Astarion sighed. „But please consider you‘re technically able to stake me right now. And I don’t believe you‘re likely to do so. Or can’t you control yourself?“

„Ah“, Wyll chuckled. „But I‘m not…“

There was a scraping from outside, and Wyll stopped, frowning.

Astarion turned his head. It was dark outside, finally. And Wyll was distracted.
This was the perfect moment to slip out.

A quick glance at Karlach showed him she was still sleeping soundly, and the boy‘s attention was all directed towards the door.

Just as Astarion closed his eyes to will himself to transform, there was an explosion that ripped the door from its hinges.

It hit Wyll full-on, hurling him across the room, where it shattered against a table.

Astarion yelped in shock, nearly toppling over in his chair, ducking his head against the debris flying everywhere.

„Detono!“, shouted someone from outside, triggering another explosion in the back of the room where Wyll had landed and Karlach had been sleeping. Parts of the wall crumpled in on themselves, burying the site.

Astarion shuddered, recognizing the voice.

„Brother, it’s time to go home!“

Chapter Text

„Brother? Come out, come out, wherever you are.“

The voice was muffled through the heavy dust the magical onslaught had shaken loose.

Terror gripped Astarion as he realized who was coming.

It was Leon.

Fuck.

Astarion froze in a desperate and pointless attempt to just be overlooked, but Leon had likely followed the scent of his blood, sniffed him out like a dog.

„There you are!“ In an instant, Leon was standing before him, waving away the dust.

He could still transform and get away, before Leon could cast, before he could catch him, he could still…

„Non movere.“ The spawn said it like he was bored, an afterthought, casually flicking his hand.

Astarion, familiar with that particular spell, froze mid-thought, eyes wide with panic, unable to move or speak at all.

Knowing it was pointless, Astarion struggled, then tried turning into bis bat form regardless, but his immobility prevented his body from dissolving into mist as well.

Fuck!

„Poor little Astarion, captured by a mere boy.“ Leon tutted as he came closer, his quarry now subdued. „Or are you fraternising with him? I bet you are.“ He bent down, baring his fangs in Astarion’s face. „You always were a traitorous little freak, weren’t you.“

Astarion couldn’t do so much as snarl at him in return, though he would have yelled and screamed. Told him Cazador was going to kill him, if Astarion didn’t finish him first.

„I thought, after all this time“, the other spawn sneered. „You‘d be more difficult to find. Or to catch. I thought this was going to be goood, but no. You’re just… pfft!“ He blew a raspberry. „I don’t think you were really trying to run, were you? You just wanted to piss him off.“

All but burning with fear and helpless rage, Astarion tried, again, to shake off Leon‘s spell. How he wished to hurt the other spawn, pay him back for all the pain he had inflicted over the years.

The other spawn noticed his renewed efforts, and smirked, then straightened up and put on a bored expression (the bastard just loved feeling better than anyone else).

Leon yawned, overlooked the scene, and the destruction he had wrought, then he grabbed the back of Astarion’s chair and began to drag him towards the exit.

No, no, no…!

Astarion fought and struggled against Leon‘s mental grip, trying to slip free of his control. He remembered that the spell never worked for long. In the past, it had always failed after a minute or so (but usually, a lot of damage was done to him in that minute). Maybe Leon wouldn’t be able to hold him long enough to…

Leon rather abruptly stopped, then a knife was plunged into Astarion’s thigh, twisted, then stabbed into him a second time.

Thanks to the spell, Astarion was unable to scream, but FUCK, it hurt as the blade was pushed in deep enough to hit bone, and twisted.

His vision blurred with tears, his body shaking with pain, and his spirit reared up against Leon‘s might.

But he had never been able to resist his magic. Leon could do whatever he wanted with him.

„That’s better“, said the spawn. „I don’t want you squirming free and slipping away. What else… ah.“ He waved his hand, engulfing Astarion‘s vision in absolute pitch-blackness. „Here we go. If you try to scream, by the way, I‘ll just cut your throat. You won’t need your voice where we’re going.“

Astarion sagged, the holding spell having fallen away as his sight was taken. Choking on a cry of pain, he shivered when his muscles unlocked. A new wave of agony ripped through him, so Astarion tried to be still, all despite the panic of being in the dark immediately cresting to a breaking point.

He whimpered, thoroughly subdued and unable to grasp a coherent thought anymore. „Don‘t…“ he heard himself sob. „No, no, no, no…“ He was whispering, his voice all but gone. Terrified that Leon would make true on his threats and cut his throat if he spoke louder.

„How in the hells“, snarled Leon vindictively, „are you bleeding? Did you feed? Without his permission?“

Astarion couldn’t bite back a yelp when Leon slapped him in the face, hard. The sharp clapping noise cutting through the dust all around.

„You‘re really in for it now!“, the spawn hissed. „I hope Master lets me watch! He’s been considering impalement. Says it’s sure to finally beat some sense into you.“ Another slap, on the same cheek, nearly sent Astarion to the floor, and he gasped for air, needlessly closing his eyes as the sting of pain hit him. „If I don’t do it first.“

Astarion bared his fangs, shaking with the pain and shock. Distantly, he was aware of Leon grabbing the back of the chair again, and dragging him further. The dull scrape of wood on wood turned to a crunching noise as they left the house and Leon pulled him onto the street, then further.

Freed from the holding spell, Astarion only needed a few moments to gather his thoughts and shake off the pain. He struggled into focus before deliberately turning into his bat form.

The hurt fell away, just as the ties did.
What didn’t fall away was the blindness, but Astarion didn’t care. He flapped his wings as fast as he could, escaping into the open sky (or so he hoped).

Hadn’t he read something about bats being able to locate prey even in the darkest of nights? Yes he had. But how? Astarion had certainly never tried it.

„What the???“, Leon cursed, then there was a deep rush of something being thrown. Then the sharp clang and clatter of wood breaking (had he THROWN the chair after Astarion?). „Get…! Get back here!“ There was the sound of magical projectiles being fired. „You slippery…! You little shit!“

Astarion, still blind, madly dashed from side to side, losing height semi-deliberately as he tried to dodge the onslaught.

Something that felt like a firebolt whizzed past close enough for him to feel the heat, then Astarion tumbled into a wall, tiny claws scrambling to hold on.

„Detono!“, shouted Leon, immediately taking advantage of Astarion’s momentary immobility.

Astarion screeched with fear and dropped from the wall, apparently narrowly escaping a direct hit. The shockwave of the explosion sent him flailing to the cobbles, where he could only blindly hop about, hoping to escape the rubble raining down around him.

Then, just as Astarion was gathering the courage to take off again, a stone hit him on the left wing, snapping and crushing the delicate bones, and grounding him completely.

Astarion screeched, his tiny bat voice distorted beyond recognition, his wing useless, pinned, and hurting beyond what he had thought possible.

Confusingly, Leon screamed as well.

Astarion didn’t really care, not when he was about to be captured, again. Frantically he shouted for Raphael to hear and help him, bat voice be damned, but the devil hadn’t come to him before.

Why would he now?

But devil or no devil, Astarion wasn’t going to give up and just be quiet as he was dragged back to Cazador.

With the last of his strength, Astarion tried pulling his wing free, but he was stuck. And the pain nearly made him pass out entirely.

He could change back, but his leg was hurt, so he wouldn’t be able to run. And as long as he was blind, he couldn’t put up a fight either.

Just as Astarion resolved to turn back into his elf form to at least be able to bite, the darkness lifted from his eyes.

He shook his head as his vision cleared, and found himself amidst the scattered rubble of the graveyard wall. All things considered, he had gotten rather lucky no bigger piece had hit and squashed him altogether.

Then, Astarion saw Leon‘s face just a few feet away on the cobbled street, eyes staring right at him, but unblinking, empty.

He was dead, because his body was laying at the other side of the street, oozing dark blood.

Astarion gaped at the dismembered head, then flinched when a blue shadow moved to his right.

When he turned his head (with his wing trapped, there wasn’t much else he could do), he saw a she-devil with skin of a sickly blue shade.

A crown of horns adorned her head, poking out from between red hair. Blue-pink wings were folded neatly to her back, almost blending with her very fine dress. Juwels and gold glinted all over her slender form.

She had a very pretty face, but Astarion saw the cruel smirk on her lips and knew her for what she was: A tyrant, a manipulator, and a petty bitch.

The way she carried herself was too similar to Cazador’s matter-of-fact attitude of „I own you, and I like to break my things.“

„Wyll, pup?“, she lilted. „Good job dealing with this vermin. Now be a good boy and come here, to me.“

Astarion stared as Wyll emerged from the ruined house, still panting and stumbling a bit.

The young Duke Ravengard‘s son… just heeling to the devil like a common minion.

Apparently his shock must have read even on his bat face, because Wyll briefly met his eye, then looked down, shame written all over him.

Well. Things made a lot more sense now. Wyll was just as much a slave as Astarion was, forced to do someone else’s bidding.

„My, my. My pup brought in the little rat, after all. Good job.“ She patted Wyll‘s head, then turned her attention to Astarion still trapped beneath the rubble. „Isn’t this just adorable? So, you‘re what all the fuss is about.“

Fuck.

Astarion shrank back, cumbersomely shuffling around to get some distance to her, but his wing was still trapped. He suppressed a squeal of pain, shaking with it. If he turned back, he‘d suffer a different kind of pain in his leg, but he might be able to make a case for himself.

Speak, maybe try his charms on her.

Then again, it was likely she’d be able to discern the identity of Astarion’s master from his scar, his mark.

And Astarion knew it wouldn’t turn out well for either of them.

So, he didn’t do anything but beat his unharmed wing at her fingers, when she picked him up, simply pulling him out from under the piece of rubble pinning him.

Astarion’s vision momentarily went black. He felt his tiny form shiver and sag against her fingers, before regaining consciousness.

„Well, your involvement with the hells is clear. Avernus‘ scent is all over you. But who? And why?“

„Mizora, what are… are you going to take him away?“

„I haven’t decided yet“, she fixed Astarion with her red gaze. „Would you like to turn into your true form? We could speak face to face.“

No way in the hells.

Astarion bared his tiny needle teeth and bit down on her ungloved finger.

The devil didn‘t flinch, but her mouth contorted to a snarl. „Ah. Another unruly pup I need to bring to heel.“

She squeezed, hard enough to make his bones creak and groan, his eyes bulge, and his lungs to expel any air. Then, an agonizing crackling heat ripped and tore through his body. Before he could even squirm or scream, his shape was dissolving into mist.

It wasn’t voluntary. It had happened because she had killed his bat form with her magic.

Fuck, he had to get away.

Astarion, still in his mist form, tried darting around a corner, but he was desperately slow.

Despite his efforts, he slipped back into his true form with a choked scream, gagging and gasping for air. Stumbling, he picked himself up and ran for the corner, his injured leg failing.

Wyll struck him down with some magic of his own, sending him flying back into the crates and barrels stacked against the wall, with enough force to nearly knock him out.

When Astarion‘s vision had cleared, he saw the tip of the silver rapier pointed at his face.

„Don’t move“, Wyll said. His voice was shaking. Why was his voice shaking?

Astarion wanted to reply, but as he opened his mouth, a gush of blood came out instead of words. Shocked and confused, he looked down at himself, only to find himself impaled on a piece of wood from a crate. It was only lucky it had missed his heart.

As his lungs filled with blood, he uselessly tried taking a breath, but couldn’t. The garbled noise made Wyll visibly wince.

„Good boy“, Mizora said. „Do be more careful not to kill him, though. For now, you’ll both be coming with me.“

„What? That wasn’t the deal!“

„Section 5, Subclause 45: „Displacement of the debtor can be enforced at all times. We’re going, now.“

She snapped her fingers and Astarion was ripped through space and time, and landed on a hard and hot stone floor. He groaned with pain, clutching at the piece of wood stuck in his chest, his body spasming around the intrusion.

„Excellent. Now, pup, be good and get him on the table“, instructed the devil. „Do be careful not to kill him.“

Wyll looked so unhappy that Astarion almost felt sorry for him. Mouth pressed to a thin line, Wyll bent down and picked Astarion up, one arm beneath his knees, one supporting his back.

He was surprisingly gentle, but Astarion still wanted to hurt him. However, the stake planted in his chest had the unfortunate side effect of stunning him into immobility. Something he had experienced before with Cazador.

So, as Astarion was unable to even try struggling, he was put down on an examining table.

The devil, Mizora, apparently, pursed her lips and considered Astarion. „I can’t wait to find out what your role in all this is, little rat. Ah. What’s this?“

She grasped him by the jaw and tilted his head back, exposing his throat.

Feeling her claws on his face and neck made Astarion shudder. In contrast to Raphael, she might actually just kill him, just like she had done with Leon.

„Ah. Someone claimed you. As I thought. Will you tell me who? Or do I need pry the answer from you?“

Astarion (still stunned) could only twitch.

When her face contorted with disdain and she raised a hand, obviously intent on inflicting pain, Wyll stepped in.

„He can’t speak. Not as long as he’s impaled“, he explained, his expression pained. „It’s the best way to incapacitate vampire spawn.“

„Ah“, Mizora mused. „Well, then we better remove this. Go on, pup. I‘ll be with you both in just a moment.“

Then she vanished in an oily puff of black smoke.

Astarion did his very best to glare at the boy.

The young man looked at him, really looked this time, then shook his head. „I shouldn’t say this… or even think it… but I‘m sorry about all this.“

Astarion couldn’t quite manage a snarl. Gods he was exhausted.

„I didn‘t want this…“ Wyll was staring at the wood stuck in Astarion’s flesh. „That was an accident, I swear.“

Astarion didn‘t give a single fuck about whether it had been on purpose or not. He was laying here, impaled, stunned and bleeding either way.

Unable to breathe, he couldn’t really speak either. But he hoped Wyll understood as he gritted out: „Fuck you.“

The boy flinched back. Good, so he had heard. Wyll walked off into the center of the room, then back, then he started to well and truly pace.

„I‘m not a torturer!“, he yelled. „I don’t want to do this, but I… I can’t! You’re a monster, you… I shouldn’t… feel guilty. I‘m not the villain!“

Astarion, unable to do anything else, just shivered and bled onto the table, the puddle of brackish black blood growing steadily.

It was getting sticky, reminding him of the kennels.

Wyll stopped his pacing. „If I pull this out, will you speak? I have to know why you’re… I just…“

He tried for a derisive scoff, but the groan that came out of him was anything but. His fingers didn‘t quite listen to him, either.

„Alright. I‘ll try removing it.“

As if he had a choice. Fucking idiot.

Wyll grabbed the piece of wood and yanked, jostling Astarion‘s entire body. He gave a gurgling whimper, his vision swimming with tears and blood. The pain was excruciating. Splintery wood this close to his heart made him panic by instinct, but he couldn’t even squirm properly.

„Shit…!“ Wyll groaned and stopped pulling. „I‘ll have to…“ He climbed the table, put a foot against Astarion’s collarbone (rude), then pulled again, pushing Astarion off the stake.

Astarion yelped as the wood slid out of his chest with a squelch, and looking like half of his lungs were attached to it.

He convulsed and writhed on the table sticky with his blood, then coughed as his lungs popped back to the way they should be, forcing him to expel any excess liquid and gore.

For a good few minutes, Astarion lay on his side, filling his lungs with air and gagging up mouthful after mouthful of blood (such a fucking waste).

Then, the blood he he had managed to keep, healed the nasty wounds, leaving him sprawled out on the table, waiting for his strength to return.

„I want to say something to you“, Astarion rasped. „And I need you to… listen.“

Wyll scooted closer. „Of course.“

Astarion met his gaze. „I really fucking hate you.“

Wyll leaned back. „Wow, that’s… thanks.“

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Astarion tried sitting up, but he was still too weak.

„None of that“, said Wyll. „Stay down.“

Astarion rolled his eyes, but gave up for now. In his current state, he stood no chance against Wyll, not to mention the she-devil.

„Looks like you’ve been well fed“, Wyll observed as he considered the sticky puddle. „By whoever you serve now. If you can’t tell me who that is, tell me why they are sending you out. What’s their goal?“

„Ugh“, Astarion ran a hand through the brackish dark blood as if he hoped he could scoop it back into his system. „I don’t think I can tell you.“

„You serve a devil“, Wyll proclaimed. „What you can’t say is very clearly specified in the contract.“

Astarion glared.

„Don’t act like I made you sign it!“, Wyll shouted. „This was your mistake, changing masters. Your fault! You made this pact!“

„Look who’s talking.“

„That isn’t…!“

„And it seems your leash is tighter than mine.“ Astarion gritted his teeth. „My master is acting in my own interest. I don’t want to end up back in my vampire master‘s grip, they were willing to help. That’s all.“

„That’s never all“, replied the boy. „Something is stirring in the hells, something big enough to get the attention of even Zariel. And I think you know something about it, if you’re not even at the centre.“

Astarion bared his teeth in his most unpleasant smile. „Who, little old me? I thought I was just a monster. Just a lowly vampire spawn.“

„Yes, and the sire of that spawn is involved in an infernal ritual, isn’t he? You being contracted yourself, that can’t be a coincidence.“

Astarion didn’t reply, so Wyll pressed on:

„If you tell me, I can help you get out of here.“

„Oh please. She‘ll skin you alive“, Astarion scoffed tiredly.

„And if you keep not cooperating, she’ll skin you!“

„She’s going to hurt me either way“, Astarion sighed. „I won‘t be your tool to suck up to her.“

„Balduran‘s balls you‘re stubborn.“

„Oh, and aren’t you so high and mighty!“, Astarion snarled. „Don’t pretend you‘re better than me, darling. The delusion doesn’t suit you.“

Wyll flinched. Good, so Astarion‘s words had stung.

„You‘re right. I have no right to judge your… pact, whatever it may be. But I can judge you for not letting me help.“

Astarion gave his most unpleasant humorless laugh. „And how would you help me?“, he hissed. „With that devil bitch on your shoulder you should know I can’t just tell you all about my master. You fucked me, Ravengard. I was doomed the moment you caught me.“

Wyll looked pained. „I…“

„I‘d really rather you stop pretending you give a shit about me“, growled Astarion, still in pain from the very recent staking, the holy water, and the wounds inflicted by Leon. „You said it best, darling. I‘m a monster. You’re the hero out to slay me and save the day. You’ve won, congratulations.“

Wyll looked down at him miserably. „I don’t want the same thing Mizora does. She wants the souls on the line, but I just want to know what’s going on. Karlach thinks you’re innocent in all this. Just a pawn. If that’s the case, I‘ll help you. But you’ll have to help me first.“

Astarion glowered. „Help you how?“

„Tell me what you know about this ritual. I might be able to sabotage it.“

Well but Astarion wanted the ritual to succeed, only to benefit himself and Raphael.

Was there still a chance, if he played his cards right? Likely not, but Astarion wasn’t about to lay down to die if he could help it.

„What do you know?“, he asked warily.

„Well, your vampire sire is involved with an extremely powerful devil. I‘m not sure what he wants, but his spawn are all part of it. That includes you. I‘m sure you have a sigil on your back, just like them.“

Astarion bit his lip. Fuck. Wyll knew more than he had thought.

„So?“, the boy prompted, „What’s this all about?“

„You’ve got it spot on“, Astarion replied vaguely. „Cazador is trying to ascend, and he‘ll sacrifice his spawn to do it. I was saved.“

„And made to steal your sire‘s dagger… so, what for?“ Wyll‘s eyes widened. „Are they trying to steal it for themselves? They are, aren’t they!“

Cold sweat broke out all over Astarion’s body. He couldn’t let Wyll take everything away. He had to escape, get back to Korilla, back to Raphael.

Raphael, he thought. Please help me!

Instead of answering or waiting for Wyll to figure out how much his correct assumption had rattled him, Astarion asked: „Where are we, anyway?“

„Avernus“, replied Wyll. „Mizora‘s home. What’s it to you?“

„I… Nothing. Is it so strange I wish to know on which plane of existence you’re going to evicserate me?“

If he was in Avernus, that meant Raphael wasn’t far. Astarion doubled his efforts, willing the devil to hear him cry out in his mind.

„I suppose not.“ Wyll was staring at the gory piece of wood he had just removed from Astarion’s chest. „So, your patron is protecting you from your sire, and what? Vowed to kill him for you?“ When Astarion made an affirming noise, the boy went on: „And in exchange you help him steal this ritual? That’s what you’re doing, right? Highjacking it? But how?“

„I wouldn’t know what he’s doing exactly“, Astarion chuckled nervously. „I hardly care. I just know I‘m not treated worse than a dog.“

„He?“, asked Wyll (Astarion bit his tongue). „So your patron is male. That doesn’t narrow it down much. Is he a pit fiend? No, he isn’t, is he? This kind of meddling means he’s got to be tricky. It would fit a cambion, like Mizora.“

Astarion had no idea what kind of devil Raphael was, so he said nothing.

„You can’t give me the name, can you? Could you nod if I guessed?“

„I‘m not allowed to implicate him“, Astarion replied testily. „Look, if you want to help me, just let me go.“

Wyll considered him for a second, eyes taking in his prone form utterly covered in blood. „Let’s say I do“, he said slowly. „What would you do? Return to your master?“

„If I was sure I wasn’t followed“, Astarion clarified. „Yes.“

„So, your master is in Avernus.“

Astarion fell silent. Oh damn it all to the hells.

„That narrows it down even more!“ Wyll sounded happy, ecstatic even, as he continued to doom Astarion. „I only wish I had my notebook with me…“

That was when the she-devil reappeared, knife in hand. With her other, she held a potion of a whispy blue.

„And now to you, little rat. Feeling better, I hope?“ She nudged the bloodied stake Wyll had removed with her foot.

Astarion snarled up at her, then pounced, fangs bared and aiming for her throat.

Judging by Wyll‘s gasp, he hadn’t expected Astarion to have recovered enough to move this fast.

Astarion slammed into Mizora, trying to bite into her, but she swept him aside faster than thought, caught him by the arm and sent a wave of blazing hot agony through him.

Astarion howled, went to his knees, but launched himself into another attack regardless. If he could only get to that knife…

She caught him with one hand at the throat, and slammed him against the wall, claws digging into his flesh.

Snarling like a wild animal, he clawed at her arm, desperate to reach her, his legs kicking out fruitlessly.

She smiled.

With a stomach-flipping spin, she threw him back to the table, causing him to hit the stained wood hard and snap a bone in his arm.

Astarion let out a scream of pain, vision flickering dangerously, even as he tried getting his legs under him to attack her again.

Chains sprung up from the stone floors, ensnaring Astarion‘s wrists and ankles, and his neck, and Astarion was violently yanked back like a dog on a leash, slamming back into the table. Then the chains pulled tight, slowly and inevitably forcing him into position on the contraption.

Still, Astarion hissed at her, fighting his restraints. He wasn’t going to be able to run. Neither her nor Wyll would let him return to Raphael. If he wanted any chance at all, he had to fight for it.

So, that’s what he did, even as the chains pulled him flat to the table, rendering him nearly immobile and exposing him to his enemies.

„Such a defiant little thing. Breaking you is going to be such fun. Wyll, pup? You watch. Quietly.“

She raised her hand, and Astarion’s clothes caught fire. He yelped, squirming and trying to roll and smother the flames, but they bit into his skin, licked up his arms and legs, threatened to consume his face. It burned, the heat of it melting his flesh in places, the agony of it making him twist and twitch.

He cursed and screamed as the devil watched him, drinking in the sight and sounds of him.

The burns healed fast, but Astarion felt his reserves depleting quickly. If they kept wounding him, he’d soon be unable to mend himself.

Finally, it stopped. The flames had consumed his clothing, leaving him naked on the table before his tormentors.

Wyll was watching this in silent horror, compelled to not look away, or speak up. Astarion almost felt bad for him.

The devil smiled as she looked him up and down. „Pretty thing. Now, what’s this on your back?“

Astarion scrambled to press his back flat on the table, and hide the scars from her, but it was too late.

„Ah, ah.“ She raised a hand, her magical powers painfully locking his muscles in place. „Come. If you cooperate, this can be quick. Right, Wyll? I‘m very efficient if I want to be.“

Wyll looked at her then, his mouth twisting with hate.

Astarion couldn’t even properly cower, frozen as he was.

Mizora flicked her hand, and the magic pulled Astarion up. It hurt, twisting around him like an electric searing snake. Growling with pain, Astarion tried to struggle, but he was hopelessly ensnared. All he could do was wiggle like a fish on the hook.

The devil twisted her hand and spun Astarion around until she could see his back. The chains loosened to accompany her.

„Oh my“, she said. „This is juicier than I thought.“ Her hand ghosted over his bare flesh, twice marked. „Someone tampered with this… Your new devil master, I presume?“

Something stirred in the magic holding Astarion, and he felt his face suddenly free. She wanted him to talk.

„Who is it, rat?“, she asked conversationally. „Tell me, and I might keep you alive to entertain me.“

Astarion didn’t say anything.

The way he was held now, he was facing Wyll, who caught his gaze with eyes that were wide with shock and glistening with tears. His painfully young age had never been more obvious. Really, Ravengard was little more than a sniveling boy in the face of the torture he was witnessing.

Wyll silently urged him to comply with his mistress, but Astarion only set his jaw, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

Wyll could feel as sorry as he wanted, be as shocked as he wanted: But Astarion’s predicament was his fault.

And no matter what Mizora was about to unleash on him, Astarion knew he had been through torture the boy couldn’t even imagine.

This was nothing. Astarion could take it, whatever was coming.

He needed to.

„Aw, playing the brave and silent one, are we? I‘ll find out either way, you know.“ She grabbed him around the chin from behind and yanked his head back to lean over him and look him in the eye. „No matter, I‘ll just pluck the truth from your lips.“ To Wyll, she said: „Observe, pet. The undead are remarkably resilient. It rather makes torturing them that much easier.“

Astarion shuddered feeling the cold tip of her knife against his lower back.

The devil set Astarion down on his knees on the table.

„So many marks on you. I want to leave one or two of my own…“ The knife pressed down harder, making Astarion hiss in terror.

She began slicing into him, not too deeply, but continuously, chuckling as he screamed and twitched. She stayed close to the same spot on Astarion‘s lower back, a patch of skin unblemished by both Cazador and Raphael, carving away skin and cutting into flesh with a knife hot as a branding iron (Astarion would know. He had felt plenty of those).

Her lips touched his ear as she whispered: „You want me to stop, you‘ll only have to say so.“

Then she plunged the knife into Astarion’s back, deep enough to run him through completely. She had selected a spot higher up, the angle just right to pierce his liver.

Astarion gritted his teeth, trying to stay quiet, but a scream of pain squeezed past his teeth. Even to his own ears, it sounded pitiful, and he cringed and twitched, skewered as he was.

„Such sweet music you make“, Mizora whispered, then she twisted the knife. „Lovely cries.“

The pain ripped through Astarion‘s system, what little blood he had spilling from the wound, leaving him shaky and weak.

Then the knife turned warm, hot, scalding. Another cry tore from Astarion’s throat, and he fought with what little strength he had left, blindly gripping for the blade, and burning his hands in the process.

He heard himself sob and beg, only for the devil to chuckle.

She left the knife where it was, burned into him, and grabbed him by the ear, claws piercing the sensitive cartilage in several places.

„I know a pit fiend who loves collecting ears“, she purred. „I don’t think she has a vampire spawn‘s yet.“

„No…!“, Astarion yelped as she began to pull.

She didn’t relent, but began sniffing along his neck. „Whose mark is this? I know the scent, I know I do…“ Astarion shuddered violently when he felt her tongue leave a hot wet trail along his throat.

Raphael… why wasn’t Raphael coming to save him? First Wyll, then Leon, now this devil bitch…

Astarion wanted to scream his name and see the devil come for him, but he knew everything would be lost if he gave up the name.

Her hand ran up his bare chest, leaving weeping scratches leading up to his neck…

Astarion snapped, the savage beast within him rearing its head at her recklessness. If she thought she had beaten him into submission, into just taking this like some toothless circus lion, she had another thing coming.

His fangs clicked free, and he ripped himself from her grip, digging his fangs deeply into her hand.

Like a rabid dog, he tore and ripped through flesh and bone, broiling blood splattering over his own form, over Wyll, the table, even as far as the walls.

Mizora shrieked, trying to pull her hand back, but Astarion caught her arm between his teeth and continued his attack.

Her blood, much like Raphael’s, was hot enough to burn.

But he had gotten used to the liquid fire, uncaring of any damage he might suffer.

Astarion’s world narrowed down to the sour tang of her blood, her rage-filled scream, the drip-dripping of her life’s force on the floor.

Then she tore herself free, gripped him, and smashed him into the table, once, twice, shattering his jaw bone, and at least two teeth.

Astarion groaned as she kept him flat on the table, grinding his face into the stained wood.

„I hope your little show of defiance is worth it, spawn“, she hissed. „If it’s pain you want, you’ll learn just how much I‘m planning to bring. Did your master not break you yet? Well, then I shall do it for him.“

There was a soft crunching noise and Astarion’s bones set themselves right again, aided by the fresh blood he had just stolen from her.

His teeth too, were already growing back.

„Unless you are ready to talk?“, she asked, pulling him back up by the hair. „No? Fine, rat.“ She slammed him back down, claws gripping his hair tight enough to make Astarion‘s head spin.

„I can break you. You have no idea of what I‘m capable of“, she hissed. „I‘d peel this sigil off your back and decipher it… but we have precious little time.“

Astarion shuddered, his vision swimming with blood and tears.

„Wyll, dear? Grab that potion.“ To Astarion, she cooed: „If you won’t talk, I‘ll just make you. Let’s make the truth spill from your lips, shall we? And afterwards…“ She leaned over him, low over his back. „Afterwards I‘ll tear out your guts, and feast on your lungs, and nail that pretty cock of yours to my wall. I‘ll pluck out your eyes and tongue, and peel the skin off your flesh. I‘ll do it over and over again, until you wish you had betrayed your master and reaped his punishment for it.“

Astarion lurched in terror. He believed every word she said. Only she‘d just do all these things to him whether he talked or not.

He screamed when she ripped the knife from where she had burned it into him, only to run him through again, vindictively probing for where Astarion seemed to feel the most pain.

Astarion almost passed out, but clung to consciousness, gasping for air he didn’t need, as she gripped a fistful of his hair.

He realized that she had left the knife in his back again, and shuddered.

„Try biting me again,“ she said. „And I‘ll rip your jaw off. That‘ll take care of that“

Something that could only be described as a squeal exited Astarion’s mouth. He believed every word of that threat.

Mizora pulled his head back and squeezed his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. „The potion, Wyll, if you please.“

Astarion was too paralyzed in fear, too browbeaten, to try and bite her. He did try pressing his lips together, but she pushed too hard for him to resist her forcefully opening his jaw wide.

The boy approached the table with the bottle in hand, shaking all over.

He was crying watching the carnage that was Astarion, but had been unable to look away thanks to his patron.

Now, he raised the potion (Astarion guessed it was some sort of truth serum) towards his face, tipping it… then it slipped his grasp, spilling over the table in front of Astarion, and shattering on the stone floor.

Mizora gave a hiss of annoyance, releasing Astarion.

He heard her strike the boy, the rush of claws, a telltale slap of skin on skin, then a gasp and pained groan from Wyll.

„Idiot!“, she snarled. „We‘ll talk of this later… Now I have to get a new one, and you get to watch him. Don’t take your eyes off him, Wyll. That’s an order.“

There was a rush, and she was gone.

„Gods…“ Wyll hissed, tears heavy in his voice. „I didn’t want this…“

Astarion shakily raised his gaze, bloodloss making him bleary.

There was a bloody gash over the side of Wyll‘s face where his mistress had struck him.

They looked at each other for a moment, both of them bleeding and exhausted, hurt and hopeless, then Wyll sprung into action.

He muttered a spell, releasing Astarion’s chains.

What?

Astarion carefully got his arms
beneath his chest. He was hurt, badly. But he wasn’t immobile. He knew how to function even injured like this and worse, even without any blood in his body. He could take Wyll, if he pounced quickly enough.

He could escape!

The boy hastily threw the chains aside, then said: „Tell me who your master is, please! I might still be able to stop this before she…“

He didn’t get any further, before Astarion leapt up from the table, tackling him to the ground.

Wyll shouted in shock, trying to blast him with a spell, but his voice died in his throat as Astarion bit down into it, pulling greedy mouthfuls of blood from the boy.

Holy shit Wyll tasted amazing. Astarion hadn’t gotten to appreciate it much before, but being half starved again thanks to these various wounds made the fresh blood taste like the sweetest ambrosia.

He barely felt the boy beat and kick him, garbled pleas falling from his lips.

Wyll struggled, but his strength quickly waned, his scrabbling hands falling away, his breath faltering.

Now unable to fight back, young Ravengard was slowly losing his life’s blood to Astarion, whose wounds began knitting back together.

Astarion felt Wyll shudder and twitch beneath him, losing consciousness, and he stopped. Unbidden, the picture of his wet wide eyes had resurfaced in Astarion‘s mind, the eyes of the frightened child that he was.

The boy was an enemy, no doubt. He had doomed Astarion, hurt him, captured him… but he had also tried showing him mercy, for some reason. His mercy had cost him dearly, and would cost him more considering the she-devil he was bound to.

Perhaps Astarion could show some mercy too. He’d likely regret it the same as him.

But killing Wyll, when he was also just following his patron‘s orders, a mere child… felt wrong.

So, Astarion licked the blood from his lips, then stood, gripping the knife stuck in his back, and pulling it out.

He winced with the pain, but felt better afterwards.

And he also had a weapon now.

All that was left now was to get the hells out of here. Return to Raphael, get home, and hopefully forget about all this.

Astarion stalked over to the door, then considered turning into a bat to get out, but after he‘d been killed in this form, he wasn’t sure it was available to him right now.

He wasn’t keen on finding himself in a tiny broken body.

He just had to be sneaky enough on his own.

Astarion opened the heavy wooden door and exited the room, stepping into a dark stone hallway. Torches illuminated the gloom, but unfortunately left little to the imagination…

There was blood in the floors, bone fragments, vomit, claw marks. And the tunnel seemed to go on forever, and was narrow enough to make Astarion feel a little more than queasy.

Shivering, he hurried down the only path available to him, ignoring the screams and groans from behind the closed doors.

Who knew when the she-devil would be back?

Astarion snuck around a corner, ears peeled for noises, heart clenching in his chest. He was shaking with fear and the adrenaline of his recent feeding, but he still flitted down the hallway quietly and quickly as a mouse.

Something painfully stirred in his chest as the memory of Raphael‘s voice echoed in his mind, calling him just that.

Little mouse.

Chapter Text

Astarion moved slowly and cautiously, taking turns at random, deciding mostly by listening for the quietest path.

If he heard footsteps or the shuffling of clothes, or the rattle of chains, he simply took a different turn, away from the noise.

Even if he was armed now, he didn’t for a second believe he’d be any kind of match for the devils lurking in these dungeons.

He was shaking like a fawn, the trauma his body had just endured and healed still fresh in his mind. With the panic still spiked all the way through his being, he felt clumsy and foolish trying to escape this labyrinth on his own, still shivering with shock, thrumming with energy he didn’t quite know what to do with.

Any moment now Mizora could come for him. Any moment, Wyll might catch up with him.
Fuck, Astarion should have killed him.
He could use the extra blood, and most of all, he didn’t need the damn boy waking up and following him.

Astarion stopped dead when he heard a wet cough just around the next corner. It didn’t sound like there was a door between him and the noise. Why not?

He peeked past the wall and found himself staring at a torture rack in an open room.

On that rack, he found the tiefling woman from yesterday, Karlach.

She was in bad shape, welts and cuts oozing all over her body, ears clipped, face swollen… but she was alive and gasping for air, hands clenched to fists, teeth bared in an effort to get free.

Astarion hesitated.

She had shot him, twice. But she had also advocated for him, despite the objective stupidity and futility of it.

Maybe she knew a way out.

Maybe she’d scream and give him away.

Fuck it.

Astarion would aimlessly wander around in the hot dark halls until he was inevitably found.

Asking Karlach for help was the best chance he had. Probably. Hopefully.

He swallowed, steeled himself, then slipped around the corner, approaching her slowly with his hands raised placatingy.

Karlach froze when she saw him, her eyes wide. „Fuck, no…“

„I‘m not going to hurt you!“, Astarion whispered urgently. „Not if you keep quiet.“

She stared at him. „How did you…?“

„Do you know the way out?“, he interrupted her. „I‘ll get you down, I just have to…!“

„Where’s Wyll?“

„He‘s fine! How do I get out of here?“

„Whose blood is this?“ She sluggishly cocked her head, eyes scrunched up in pain.

Astarion cursed and wiped the boy‘s blood from his mouth. „Nevermind! Wyll is alright, but I won‘t be if I don’t find a way out, so please! If you know how to get out, tell me!“

„I can… help“, she said. „She has a… a laboratory just a few doors down. There’s a window in there.“

Astarion looked over his shoulder down the hallway. „Which door?“

„Second or third“, she replied through gritted teeth. „Now get me down. Tell me which way to find Wyll…“

Astarion bit his lip. He didn’t want to risk opening the wrong door or encountering anyone in the laboratory, not without this gigantic tiefling woman at his side.

But he also didn’t wan‘t her leaving him alone and getting Wyll.

„Get me out first“, he hissed, as he grasped his knife to pick her locks with. „Then I‘ll tell you which way to find Wyll. You’re perfectly free to get yourself killed however you want…“ The first lock gave way with a soft click, and she twisted her hand free. „After you get me the hells out! You shot me, twice!“ The second lock opened beneath his nimble fingers, this time around her ankle. „So, you owe me, darling.“

Karlach watched him get to work on her other leg. „Imma try, fangs. And… I‘m sorry. For what it’s worth. Wyll just said he needed help catching a monster. I didn’t think too much about it.“

„Evidently.“ Astarion opened the third lock, then got back up and got to work on her other hand. „I‘m willing to forgive and forget, as long as you help me get the hells out of here.“

„I can help you get out“, she confirmed. „But if you wanna get out of Avernus, you’ll need Wyll‘s help. Mizora will get you if you don’t leave this plane. Where do you think you’re going to hide, or survive? It’s hell out there, fangs. Literally!“

Astarion scoffed at the joke, wiggling the slim knife as he tried opening the lock. „I can take care of myself.“

„Really? You don’t seem like much of a fighter. Avernus is a battle field.“

„I‘m not letting fucking Wyll hand me back to his mistress“, he snarled.

Finally, the lock opened.

Astarion quickly retreated, knife clutched in his hand, ready to defend himself if she attacked him.

Karlach slid off the rack, rolling her shoulders. „Damn, that feels good. Thank you, fangs. Guess I owe you now.“

„If you try to hug me, I will stab you“, Astarion groused, watching her open a crate. „Just point me the right way. I want to see the damn window.“

Next thing he knew, Karlach had tossed a cloak at him.

Sputtering, he stumbled back, clawing the fabric away from his face.

„Adrenaline does all kinds of shit to you“, she sighed, facing away from him. „But you’re naked. Cover up, will ya?“

Astarion had barely been aware of it, but she was right. Since Mizora had burned his clothes away, he had, indeed, been naked, with no way to cover himself.

He felt immensely grateful as he slipped underneath the cloak to preserve a little bit of his modestly.

„You done yet?“

„It’s as good as it gets, I suppose“, he replied.

„So, now you‘ll point me to Wyll? You swear?“ She held out her hand for him to shake.

Watching it like it might bite him, Astarion shied away from her. „I… yes, darling, sure.“

She dropped her hand. „Fine. Come on, then. You‘re sure you’re not going to bite?“

„You‘d think I‘d have done so while you were nice and tied up“, Astarion said, crossing his arms. „Quickly now! Get me the hells out! Before she comes back!“

Something in her amber eyes softened as her gaze wandered over him. „Yes, come on, fangs.“

She slipped into the hallway, trying to open a door on the opposite side of the hallway. „Damn. Stand back.“

„And you‘re sure this is the one?“ Astarion ducked behind her, dreading what might be waiting behind the door.

„Been in there more times than I can count“, she replied, before taking a few steps back and slamming her shoulder into the door.

Impressively, even in her injured state, she broke through the door in one swoop, stumbling into the room in a flurry of splinters.

Astarion flinched at the sharp crack, then quickly followed her inside.

It was as Karlach had said: A spacey laboratory, all with delicate tools and instruments he couldn’t begin to name, and (much more importantly) a window.

Astarion let out a gasping breath of relief, but it quickly turned into a yelp of shock as the huge tiefling seized him by the arms and drove him into a table, forcing him to bend over in an awkward angle, toes lifting clean off the stone floor.

„I saw you eyeing the window, fangs“, she hissed, almost nose to nose with him. „But you still gotta keep your end of the bargain. Where’s Wyll?“

Astarion couldn’t help but shiver in her grip (hells she was so much stronger than him). „The other way“, he stammered. „Left, then right… another right… then it’s the… the eighth door to the right. I think.“

„You think?“ Her tone was threatening.

„Well, I… No, of course I… I‘m sure. Yes, I‘m sure.“ He wasn’t, but when she potentially opened the wrong door, he’d be long gone. „He‘ll be there, I swear it!“

She glared at him for another second or two, then released him. „Good enough for me. Take care out there, you never know where the hellboar lurk.“

„The what?“

But she had already gone, stomping down the hallway just where Astarion had told her to. Another second, and she was gone.

Astarion hovered in the ruined laboratory, trying to ignore the various substances and body parts suspended in jars and vials. It wasn’t easy, because one of the unfamiliar contraptions emitted a fiery glow, humming like a living being.

It was a hunk of dark metal bigger than both of his fists, and it was moving, churning, an apparatus of unknown purpose or origin.

Astarion instinctively knew better than to touch it or go anywhere near it, whatever it was. Just looking at it made him feel queasy.

Right, the window. Freedom. Raphael.

Astarion hurried past the whirring chunk of metal, opened the window and stuck his head out, trying to get his bearings.

He was high up somewhere, in a fort carved into a black mountain, from the looks of it. In the distance, a reddish smoking river cut through the barren landscape.

Since he hadn’t ever been outside the House of Hope, he had no idea just where in Avernus he was, but that didn’t matter, as long as he just got the hells out.

The window was small, but not too much so for Astarion, who immediately pushed his narrow frame through the opening, praying to all the gods who might hear him all the way in the hells that his vampiric ability to walk on walls wouldn’t abandon him.

It didn’t.

Astarion found himself standing on the outside wall of the fort, and he wasted no time running downwards (it was fine as long as he didn’t think about it too much).
Away, away, home…

Before long, Astarion had reached the ground, a red rocky wasteland stretching on as far as the eye could see.

The rock was biting into his bare feet, threatening to break skin, but Astarion ran nonetheless.

„Raphael…!“, he panted. „Raphael, please, get me home!“

He thought he felt the mark around his neck grow warm, but maybe that was wishful thinking.

Could the devil hear him?

„I‘m in Avernus!“, he shouted. „Please…! I‘ve been captured! I don’t know where to…“

A deep growl made him whip around on the spot, stumbling with his own momentum.

Something was moving just a few steps away, something big hidden behind a slab of red rock.

„Fuck“, he hissed, gripping the knife more tightly, backing away and tripping over something, that turned out to be a large bone.

He hissed as he stepped on another sharp bone fragment and then stopped dead when he realized he was surrounded by the remains of long dead creatures.

There were skulls that looked humanoid, animal and monster bones, horns, claws and teeth… It was a graveyard.

Heavy footsteps came stomping and crashing closer, so Astarion pressed his back against the rock, inching around it to avoid the monster‘s gaze, whatever it was.

A voice deep as the scrape of stone on stone sounded from just behind the rock. „Such quick little feet. What‘s this pitter-pattering through my garden?“

Astarion held his breath, clutching the knife.

The creature came lumbering around the rock, and Astarion inched the other way, hoping to avoid its gaze.

„I can smell you, mortal“, it chittered. „Come out, come out, and I‘ll kill you quickly.“

Astarion didn’t think so!

The monster began sniffing the air loudly, the noise sending a shiver down Astarion’s spine. „It smells of human blood…“ There was a smack of enormous lips. „My favourite.“

Cursing, Astarion weighed his options, wiping at his mouth to get Wyll‘s blood off, but it had likely spattered all over him, so there really was no point.

So, hiding wasn’t an option, if the monster already knew where he was.

He could try fighting it, but he had nothing but the dagger, his cloak, and his fangs. And he‘d bet that whatever was currently trying to sniff him out could more than match his.

Running was out of the question. If he moved from his hiding place, the creature would spot him. And he couldn’t run fast enough on bone and rock, not without proper foot gear.

If he surrendered, he‘d be killed (quickly, at least, so that was something).

Could he still turn into his bat form, even after it had been killed mere hours ago?
He didn’t want to risk it.

But then, did he have a choice?

„Come out, little morsel“, whispered the creature, shuffling further around the rock.

Astarion yelped when an enormous hand (easily big enough to close its fingers entirely around his middle) blindly reached for him. As he slapped a hand over his mouth, staggering back, he heard a triumphant shout, only to be seized from behind by the creature’s other hand.

Before he could even properly scream, he was lifted clean off his feet, about eight feet high, his arms and chest squeezed painfully, stomach flipping.

„What’s this? A runaway slave?“

Astarion froze in terror staring at a huge terrible face. Eyes of gleaming red, dozens of jagged sharp teeth, horns and spikes (and piercings, as if everything else wasn’t enough already), split lips oozing with saliva, blood and pus.

„Does it speak?“ The creature cocked its enormous head.

Astarion managed a squeal, knife still in hand, now uselessly stuck at his side. „Don’t…!“

The monster grinned. „It does speak.“

„Don’t kill me!“, Astarion shouted. „I‘m not a slave!“

„Does it propose a bargain?“

„A what?“

„Why should I let it live, unless it can offer something to me?“, the monster asked lazily. „I would eat you, and use your tiny bones for toothpicks.“

Shuddering, Astarion shook his head. „No, no… please don’t do that. I can…!“ He racked his brain, trying to think of what the creature might want or need. Sex was out of the question considering the frightening size difference, so Astarion was stumped for a good few seconds. „I‘m a vampire!“, he finally blurted out. „I can handle… things? Things a mortal couldn’t!“

The creature huffed. „An undead morsel? What good is it to me? Fill my belly it most certainly can.“

„But I can…!“ Astarion twisted in his captor‘s grip. „What do you want? What do you need?“

„A meal in my belly, and blood on my claws.“

„I…“ Astarion squealed when the creature squeezed him tighter, threatening to break bones. „I serve a powerful master! He‘d be… argh! Grateful…! If you…“ And just like that, he had run out of air to continue talking.

As long as he was held this tightly, he couldn’t breathe.

„No one in the whole of the Hells can match my power“, chuckled the monster. „Whether you’re lying or not, little morsel, I shall eat you, and add your bones to my garden.“

Well… fuck.

He had to escape. If it meant turning into a dead bat, then so be it.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and dissolved into mist, drawing a surprised grunt from the creature. Hurriedly, he drifted out from between the monster‘s fingers, frantically zigzagging skywards, then he felt his body reforming.

His body, not the bat‘s.

The bat wasn‘t accessible. It wouldn’t come to him.

So, one moment Astarion was soaring up and away from his would-be killer, ready to break into flight, and the next he found himself back in his true form, and very much unable to fly.

Astarion plummeted.

It was a good 60 feet down, nothing that would kill him, but the impact would incapacitate him.

The severeness depended on how he landed, but either way Astarion was looking at broken bones. He’d be unable to run, not to mention fight.

Perhaps, at least, he’d hit his head. This way he wouldn’t have to see the creature grab and devour him.

But Astarion didn’t get to ponder about his predicament for much longer, because said creature had run after him, and now caught him out of the air with one hand, the impact rattling Astarion‘s teeth.

He was ripped from his blunt resignation into white-hot panic in an instant.

The adrenaline made him go into a frenzy, and he raised his knife and plunged it into his captor’s hand, once, twice, five times, screaming wordlessly.

The monster dropped him when Astarion severed a sinew on its thumb, and he landed on his side, quickly picking himself up and facing his would-be killer.

There was no way he‘d outrun it, so might as well face it head on.

The creature would kill him, but Astarion was going to make sure he‘d hurt it as much as humanly possible.

The monster laughed as it swung for him, and Astarion dodged the blow, slashing out with his knife.

He didn’t even hit the creature, didn’t slow it down in the slightest, as it aimed another swing, claws splayed to rip him to pieces right then and there.

Astarion‘s knees shook as he retreated, stumbling, knife raised in a rather obviously futile attempt to fight his opponent off.

He couldn’t dodge forever. And he couldn’t get close enough to get a blow in, and even if he did, the creature likely wouldn’t even feel the blade.

Fuck, it couldn’t end like this, not after everything he’d been through.

Astarion froze when the claws came down. The monster was as so quick for its size, it really wasn’t fair.

Regardless of how he felt about it, there was no way he was avoiding the blow.

He felt oddly detached watching the enormous claws rush through the air. Depending on where he dodged, he’d either be hit right in the belly, and the legs, or in the side and head.

Either way, this was it.

All that was left was to brace and…

A fiery meteor rushed over Astarion’s head, missing him by just an inch, before crashing into the monster hard enough to create a searing hot shockwave.

Astarion was blown backwards, slammed into a cragged rock with enough force to make him see stars and stun him into immobility for a few seconds.

Groaning, he struggled to get up and run. Whatever had just happened, he might just get another chance to get away and save himself.

His blurred vision presented him with an inferno just a dozen or so feet away, hot enough for him to feel his skin blistering in places.

Every breath was white-hot agony in his lungs, and he couldn’t help but expel the air, letting out a pained wheeze, squinting into the blazing heat just in front of him.

The monster was still stirring inside, huge hands scrabbling on the scorched rocky ground, then Astarion saw a second creature moving within the swirling fire.

A tall humanoid one, but much smaller than the monstrosity, with wings and regal horns upon its head.

One wielding a greatsword unlike anything Astarion had ever seen.

The figure pinned the larger monster down with ease, one hand raised to cast some magic, the other positioning the blade against the creature’s throat, then immediately thrusting it all the way through its neck. With a flourish, its head was severed and cast aside.

As the great monster shuddered and died, so did the blaze surrounding the grisly scene, revealing a familiar devil stepping off the corpse and towards Astarion.

„Raphael“, Astarion croaked, the heat having temporarily burned his voice away. He‘d have cried with relief if it hadn’t been for the heated blast he had just endured.

He was here. He had come for Astarion.

The devil increased his pace, scooping Astarion up and into his arms without a word, then spread his great wings and took off.

Astarion yelped when the ground vanished from beneath them with a lurch, clutching Raphael for support. Only then he realized he wasn’t wearing one of his fine suits, but was instead clad in a heavy gold and ruby armour.

Chancing a glance at his face, Astarion found the devil steely and furious, jaw clenched. But his eyes were wide and wild, as if he had been running for his life moments ago.

Perhaps he had.

The flight was short and turbulent, then Raphael brought them to the ground in a crumbling ruin, quickly checking for hidden threats before releasing Astarion.

Before Astarion had gotten a chance to get his bearings, Raphael grasped him by the chin to tilt his face up, examining him for injuries.

„You‘re alive“, he muttered in bewildered wonder.

„I… I thought you…“

Astarion broke off when Raphael snapped his fingers to conjure a goblet of blood into his hands.
Distracted by the fresh blood (it was Raphael‘s, Astarion’s favourite), he endured a quick examination.

„Oh, little mouse…“, said the devil after assessing his sorry state.

„I‘m fine“, Astarion said, ignoring the blood with difficulty. „I just… I thought you wouldn’t come. I called for you! I tried to get you to…“ Suddenly, there were tears running down his cheeks. „Why didn’t you come?“

Raphael hesitated for just a second before pulling Astarion into an embrace, resting his face into his curls, one large warm hand safely supporting his back, the other cradling his head. „I couldn’t find you“, he muttered. „I should have come sooner, my pet.“

At some point, Astarion had dropped the goblet, causing the blood to spill around their feet.

„Can we go home?“ Astarion sniffled, burying his face in the hollow of the devil’s throat (his favourite spot by far). „I want to go home, now.“

Raphael was silent for a while, quietly supporting Astarion as he shivered and cried against him.

Only when Astarion had calmed a bit, he tilted Astarion’s head back up and solemnly replied: „No, we can’t go home.“

Astarion felt like he’d been plunged into ice cold water. His breath hitched, his limbs going rigid. „What?“

„The House of Hope has been compromised. My father caught wind of my exploits, and so he sent his legions to take the House, and capture me.“

Astarion stared up at him. This couldn’t be. Everything they had worked for, everything he had been through… was it all for nothing now?

Suddenly, mixed in with the shock and disbelief came utter dread. This was his fault, it had to be! He had gotten himself captured… but he hadn’t told Wyll anything, or Mizora. He had kept his mouth shut despite their threats and the torture… Had it really all been for nothing?

Astarion sobbed. „It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t tell them anything! I didn’t tell them your name, I…!“

„I know you didn’t. Otherwise I would have more than just my father to worry about. You did well, little mouse.“

„But he knows I have a contract…! Ravengard… Wyll. He knows we’re trying to steal the ritual, and…!“

Raphael silenced him by taking his face in both hands and planting a searing kiss onto his lips.

Effectively stunned, Astarion clung on to the devil, his heart lurching with hope and relief. It was enough to make his knees buckle. Simultaneously, he felt the devil access his memories, and gave in to the insistent prodding.

In a heartbeat, Raphael absorbed all that had befallen Astarion since he had gone to Baldur‘s Gate, from Cazador‘s compulsion to his capture by Wyll, to Leon‘s intervention and demise, to Mizora cutting into him, and finally his escape.

Raphael broke the kiss, but didn‘t move away, muttering against his lips: „Pet, I assure you I wouldn’t have let any of this happen to you, if I had been able to find you. They warded the house, probably against Mizora. And she, naturally, warded her castle against adversaries like me.“ He sighed, resting his forehead against Astarion’s. „She doesn’t know it’s me… so we haven’t lost yet.“

„We… we haven’t?“

„Not while you live, and I‘m here to keep you safe.“

Astarion breathed a sigh of relief. „How? What do we do?“

„Now, little mouse, we lay low. We find Korilla, then we finish this.“ Raphael turned away from him and peeked out the side of the ruin, checking for pursuers.

„Korilla hasn’t… is she alright?“, Astarion asked, scrambling after the devil. „She went inside the palace, but I don’t…“

„Quiet!“

Astarion‘s mouth snapped shut, and he froze on the spot.

Raphael was tense, his tail twitching. He muttered something, made a curt gesture, then relaxed back into the ruin.

„She has already sent out her lackeys for you.“

Astarion, unsure of whether he was allowed to speak yet, asked: „You know her, then? This Mizora?“

„To my eternal chagrin“, Raphael growled. „She’s a meddler, no doubt delighted she’s almost cost me anything.“

„Can’t you just…“ Astarion made a weak stabbing gesture with the knife still clutched in his hand. „kill her? You did kill that monster.“

„Mizora is Zariel‘s right hand. Killing her wouldn’t turn out well for me. Although I‘m tempted, after what she did to you.“ He looked Astarion down. „Do you require healing?“

„I… uh…“ Astarion quickly padded himself down. His wounds had healed, although he was still covered in crusts of blood and dirt. „I had some… Ravengard, earlier. It seems it was enough to heal the damage she did to me. And I didn’t even kill him.“

Raphael’s mouth twitched. „For the record: You now have my permission to kill him. Though I applaud your restraint, little mouse.“ He ran a hand through his face, thinking hard. Astarion could tell by the way his tail twitched.

Hesitantly, Astarion chimed in: „I… do you think you could magic up some clothes for me? I feel just a little underdressed.“

Raphael stopped his pondering, then simply snapped his fingers.

Astarion flinched when a tight padded suit wrapped snugly around his entire form. Sturdy boots, trousers and a jacket that provided protection from both the heat and unforgiving winds, gloves, even a cloak.
It felt unbelievably good to not be exposed to both the elements and everyone’s gazes anymore.

„Thank you, master“, Astarion said.

Raphael turned back to surveying the landscape, and Astarion came over to his side.

Just having the devil nearby had a good portion of the fear fall away. Despite everything Raphael had just told him, the world seemed a bit less dark, the future a bit less grim.

Astarion slowly inched closer to Raphael, entering his space, starved for his warmth.

Without looking at him, the devil pulled him closer, holding Astarion against his chest.

Astarion smiled, just a little, when he felt the tiny spark of hope flickering in his chest. It was still there, despite everything.

„What do we do now?“, Astarion asked. „You‘re right. I‘m alive, and you’re here now. We haven’t lost yet.“

Raphael huffed. „Indeed. I say we go to Baldur’s Gate, together. The key to our fates lies there.“

„Yes, well…“ Astarion checked the ring still burned into his finger. „If we’re going now, I‘ll need the amulet.“

Raphael straightened, looking at Astarion with sudden annoyance. „By the nine, of course…“ He released Astarion and began pacing.

„You… you mean you don’t have it?“

„I had to leave most of my possessions behind“, replied the devil darkly, tail lashing in very obvious anger now. „The amulet among them. We‘ll have to wait until nightfall, then.“

Astarion hesitated, looking around in the desolate ruin, and out onto the barren landscape. „Is it safe?“

„It’s Avernus“, Raphael pointed out testily. „It’s never safe.“

Astarion balked when Raphael removed a satchel from his side and loosened the sword from his back.

„What? We‘re staying here?“

Raphael gave him an unamused look. „Unless you‘d rather I dump you in the Styx.“ At Astarion’s indignant sputtering, he added: „It‘ll only be a few hours. I warded the perimeter. And even if we’re found, you‘re as safe with me as you‘ll ever be, little mouse.“

„Are we… going to talk about what happened to you? To… to everyone?“

„No“, Raphael replied simply. „There’s really no point, pet.“

„But… what happened to Haarlep?“, Astarion chanced.

The devil gave him a strange look. „I told them to run. They‘re good at blending in, and hard to find. I‘ll summon them to my side once we are… out of the woods, so to speak.“

„Good“, Astarion sighed, more relieved than he thought with the knowledge that Haarlep was probably alive.

„We have some time“, Raphael changed the subject. „Why don’t you rest? I‘ll come up with a plan.“

„Well, I‘m not resting in the middle of this hell“, Astarion said, crossing his arms. „Why don’t we come up with a plan right now?“

Raphael gave him a stern look, then closed in on him, invading his space. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned another goblet of blood.

„Drink“, he said.

Astarion, though immediately starting to salivate, took the vessel with some apprehension.

The devil gestured for him to drink, then returned to his satchel, digging around in it.

Taking a sip, Astarion found the blood just as delicious as ever. „So, any ideas? Where do we start from here, darling?“ Hunger won out, and Astarion downed the rest of the glass, quietly purring to himself as the warm rich liquid began warming him up.

Raphael had watched him drink up, stood, and came over with a blanket.

Astarion cocked his head, unsure of what the fiend was doing, opening his mouth to ask, but instead his body just sagged as he slumped to the ground, boneless, eyes already closing.

Distantly, he realized he was landing on the blanket Raphael had quickly lain out for him.

Something akin to unconsciousness claimed Astarion quick as thought.

„Raph…“ Astarion fought it, but the world went all dark, his awareness snuffed out like a candle.

Astarion dreamed of monsterous devils fighting over him, ripping and tearing at him like stray dogs might with a slab of meat.

Confusingly, Wyll was there, fending off whatever attackers he could, screaming that he should run, but Astarion found himself grasped too tight, by too many hands.

In the midst of the ocean of grasping claws and gnashing teeth, Cazador was calling too, and Astarion felt himself compelled to obey, only he‘d have to rip himself apart obeying the orders.

And so, Astarion was tearing himself apart trying to heed Cazador’s call, because that was all he could do.

Until…

Until strong arms closed around him.

Put him back together.

Held him close to a body so warm it might just bring Astarion back to life.

Surrendering to the warmth, Astarion felt the hands and claws fall away from him.

He was safe, comfortable…

Astarion woke up in a large bed with luxurious fresh, fragrant sheets of pink and red silk.

For a moment he thought he was home in his room in the House of Hope, and everything had been nothing more than a nightmare.

But then he realized he was sharing his bed with a human man, who had one arm wrapped around his middle.

Astarion started upright and scrambled off the bed. He couldn’t stifle the yelp of „What the hells!“

A sleepy grumble came from the man, then Astarion recognized Raphael, but in his human form, and looking extremely disgruntled.

To be fair, it had been a while since he had seen him wear it (the human form, not the disgruntled look).

„Not the greeting I was expecting“, muttered Raphael as he turned around.

„I… I‘m sorry…“ Astarion was still catching his breath.

„You were dreaming“, Raphael told him. „Nightmare?“

„Well, yes…“ Astarion admitted. „And you… looking like this.“

„Less conspicuous“, the devil mumbled into his pillow.

Astarion, meanwhile, looked around. „Are we in Baldur’s Gate? How long was I…?“

„Night fell a few hours ago.“

„Ah. Wait. Did you…? You drugged me!“

„I needed my focus up, and you, pet, were about to panic.“ The devil rolled onto his back and yawned. „I couldn’t risk any distractions from you with Mizora‘s goons after you.“

„I..!“ Astarion was scrambling for words. „You..!“

„Pet, I could have knocked you out instead, but I didn’t wish to harm you further.“

Astarion shivered. The warmth from the bed (Raphael’s warmth) had seeped into his very bones, and was now rapidly leaving him. He wanted to get back into bed and warm himself back up.

„So, do you have a plan now, at least?“, he asked instead.

„Naturally“, Raphael replied, eyes still closed. „Come here, little mouse.“

Astarion cast a quick glance around the room.

It seemed Raphael had rented private quarters in Sharess‘ Caress, or perhaps he owned the room.

It was the same room Astarion had appeared in whenever he had taken the portal.

He also noticed Raphael had undressed him, mostly. Astarion was still wearing his underclothes. He‘d also been cleaned, he couldn’t tell if it was by magical means or otherwise.

Astarion sighed, and climbed back in bed, crawling beneath the blankets, where he was immediately pulled close by the devil.

Gods, Astarion melted from the delicious warmth alone, not to mention Raphael’s tantalising scent.

Even in his human form, although shorter, Raphael cut a fine figure, and his frame was just perfect for cuddling up to. The devil pulled Astarion to his chest, effectively spooning him.

It was nice.

Raphael’s breath tousling his hair was a reassurance. He had come for him. He had saved him…

Astarion jolted when Raphael gently kissed his neck, then moved on to his cheek, then his ear.

His hands wandered over Astarion’s chest, one toying with a nipple, prodding and caressing it through the fabric of his shirt, the other traveling down his abdomen.

Astarion shuddered in confused pleasure.

„Not that I don’t appreciate this“, he purred, „but I thought both our survival was at stake here.“

„Indeed“, Raphael replied.

Astarion whimpered when the devil started nibbling his ear. Gods, Raphael didn’t make it easy to even think clearly, but his behaviour still set Astarion on edge, somehow.

„Why…?“ He moaned, twitching at Raphael’s ministrations.

Something about this being a human made the entire experience more… personal, somehow. More real.

The fact that it was still Raphael made it irresistible as usual.

„Because I want to“, replied the devil huskily. He was growing hard against Astarion.

Raphael had arrived at Astarion’s waistband, snaking an eager hand underneath.

Well if Raphael wanted to, who was Astarion to try stopping him?

A shaky moan escaped his ips.

Raphael‘s hands were deliciously soft in his human form.

The devil’s free hand stroked up Astarion’s chest, over his throat, where it remained for a few seconds.

Astarion craned his head back further for the devil, but he ignored his neck safe for a short caress, and held the wrist against his lips.

Astarion’s fangs immediately clicked free of their sheathes. He twitched forward, but stopped himself. Even now, even here, he knew better than to bite without explicit permission.

Chuckling at this, Raphael whispered (directly into his ear): „Go on, little mouse. Drink.“

Before Raphael had even finished the command, Astarion had bitten down.

Gods, how had he gone without for even a few days? The burning hot blood surged into his mouth like it belonged there, jolting his cold dead body awake, warming him. Astarion‘s heart shuddered, as if trying to beat, to jump back to life.

Astarion seized the devil’s arm to keep it in place as he drank. The feeling of his body remembering life, trying to wake up from its undead state, was nothing short of addicting.

The devil might wear a human guise, but his blood tasted the same, carried the same heat that had burned Astarion just weeks before.

Now he had gotten so used to it that he hardly minded, no, craved the heat. And it couldn’t touch him anymore.

Raphael, meanwhile, had continued his exploration, his hand past Astarion‘s waistband now, palming him up with those familiar but softer hands.

At the same time, Raphael’s mouth (all wet heat but without the fangs) hat closed around the tip of his ear, nibbling with his blunt teeth.

Astarion thought he was about to pass out with pleasure. He jolted, back arching, feet kicking into nothing, as a rush of arousal flooded his body.

A strangled moan left his lips, and blood spilled down his chin and neck as he involuntarily released his bite on the devil’s wrist.

Raphael chuckled (again right into his ear), sending Astarion over the edge entirely. He began to buck into the flat of Raphael’s hand, chasing more pleasure.

„Tell me“, Raphael purred. „Do you prefer this, or my true form?“

Astarion, still writhing in the devil’s grip, struggled to even remember he could speak. „Ah… Yes.“

Another dark chuckle, then Raphael’s hand wandered up again, to Astarion‘s lower belly, where his fingers splayed out over the expanse of smooth pale skin.

At the loss, something between a growl and a whimper escaped Astarion’s lips, and he surged forward and bit down into Raphael’s wrist again (half in retaliation, and half because he just wanted to).

He could feel the devil smile against his ear as he used his leverage to easily turn Astarion over onto his belly, pinning him down with his entire body.

In contrast to Astarion, Raphael was very much naked.

Pliant in his blissed-out state, Astarion went easily, still drawing increasingly lazy mouthfuls of blood from the devil’s wrist.

The devil stroked down Astarion’s side, shoulder to thigh, then pushed his legs open a bit, fumbling at his waistband.

Astarion made an affirming noise into Raphael’s wrist, eager to have the devil and forget about the nightmare he had endured… and the nightmare still ahead of him.

Forget, even just for a few minutes…

There was a knock on the door, and they both froze.

Raphael pried his wrist free, got up from the bed, one hand raised towards Astarion and signalling for him to stay where he was.

So, Astarion stayed, laying flat on the bed, fresh blood warming and heating him, aroused, and scared by the sudden shift in mood.

Raphael moved so quietly that even Astarion‘s senses couldn’t pick up a sound.

Then he opened the door, and, in a flurry of movement, wrestled a girl into the room, slamming the door shut, then bearing down on her.

She shrieked, shielding herself with both hands as Raphael punched her in the face, bloodying her nose.

Just as Astarion got up in alarm, shouting for Raphael to stop, the girl‘s screams distorted into the screeches of a beast, her fingers twitching and twisting into claws, skirt ripping as she grew in size, revealing a gleaming red carapace.

Raphael, gradually manifesting his cambion form, ripped one arm clean off the creature, then held it still with one hand around its neck.

„You are only the third of her slaves to come by“, he growled, the room shaking with the reverberation of his voice. „And you are going to tell me how you keep finding me.“

The creature choked, still in the process of transforming. Horns began popping through the skin on its head.

Raphael lifted it up by the throat, halfway turning to Astarion. „Stay. I‘ll have to kill it, then I‘ll be back.“

Before Astarion had the chance to say anything, to ask what the fuck had just happened, Raphael was gone.

Alone and thoroughly confused, Astarion stared at the smudges of dark blood staining the floor.

He could only assume this thing had been sent to hunt him and Raphael down, and from what the devil had said… it hadn’t been the first.

But how had they found Raphael and Astarion?

Just as he finished that thought, another creature burst through the window, shards if glass flying everywhere, curtains billowing and obscuring it as it shuffled around trying to get to its feet.

Astarion froze, unwilling to take his eyes off the creature, one hand scrabbling on the nightstand for a weapon.

Then the creature had spotted him, hissing in delight. Its teeth gleamed as it rushed towards him, claws raised.

Astarion had just gripped something off the nightstand (a goblet, not a knife) to throw at the thing, but Raphael returned, materializing right on top of the creature, and crushing it on the floor.

It was smushed like a bug on the cobbled streets, left to wheeze for air.

Raphael bared his teeth in disgust, now entirely in his cambion form. „That answers that.“ His fiery eyes met Astarion‘s with a frightening intensity. „They are tracking you, not me.“

„What?“ Astarion squealed. „No! How? I didn’t…!“

„Stay“, Raphael growled, before displacing again.

Shaking, Astarion remained by the bed, goblet clutched in hand, just in case any more monsters showed up.

The fresh devil blood made his skin prickle, causing him to feel increasingly antsy.

Would Raphael punish him? But he hadn’t done anything!

With a sharp crackle, the devil reappeared in the room, levelling Astarion with a stern look, then repairing the window with a snap of his fingers.

„We should be safe for now“, the devil announced. „But not for long, unless I find out just how she’s… Take off your clothes.“

Astarion swallowed. „What? Why?“

„Pet“, Raphael snarled, closing the space between them with three quick strides, turning back into his human form as he went. „Do as I say.“

Only when Astarion hastily stripped off his shirt and trousers, his hands shaking, the devil explained: „She might have put a mark on you.“

With his huge hands, he turned Astarion around and guided him back to the bed, pushing him down.

„Don’t move“, he asvised.

When Astarion didn’t stop shaking, the devil gripped him around the arm. „I‘ll try not to hurt you.“

Raphael stroked down Astarion’s neck, then moved on to his back, causing him to tense.

The devil examined the infernal writing, the alterations he had made, running a finger over one of the new markings.

Then his hot fingers trailed lower towards the area where Mizora hat cut into him.

He found the spot despite there being no scarring.

When Astarion squirmed with the memory of the knife she had driven through him, Raphael suddenly pinned him down roughly, one hand on his neck, one at his lower back.

„Mmpf!“, Astarion squealed, but fell quiet as the devil growled, deep in his throat.

„I said: Stay.“

Astarion shuddered, struggling to stay still, to stop breathing. But the heated blood in his system made it difficult to pretend to be dead.

Raphael’s fingers explored the patch of skin, prodding and pushing at the muscle, grumbling in annoyance at Astarion‘s flinch.

Suddenly, Astarion felt something beneath his skin shift at the devil‘s ministrations, a small lump of scar tissue hidden from plain sight.

Raphael and Astarion both froze, then the devil leaned over, his finger never leaving the spot on Astarion’s back, and gripped a what sounded like a knife from the nightstand (because of course there would be a knife there, and of course Astarion had grabbed the goblet instead).

Astarion flinched again when the cold metal touched his skin, but this time it ended in another squirming attempt to get out from under the devil.

Raphael responded by digging his fingers into Astarion’s neck, and forcing him down even harder. A clear warning.

A warning Astarion didn’t care about. He tried pushing himself up, then to blindly pry Raphael’s hand away from his neck, grabbing for the knife with the other.

„Pet, I need to cut out whatever she‘s carved into you“, he growled. „But I promise you I won’t stop there, if you don’t hold still!“

Astarion yelled an insult into the pillow, unable to do much more than that.

„That one is going on my list“, Raphael said calmly. „How many is it now? Five? Six?“

Astarion (unwisely) used up the remainder of his air for yet another insult.

„Are you asking for punishment?“, Raphael snarled. „Hold still. This will take but a moment.“

Then the blade bit into his skin.

Raphael didn’t stop or slow down at Astarion’s chocked scream of pain, not at his renewed attempts to throw him off, but calmly peeled back the skin to reveal the muscle underneath.

„She‘s carved a tracking rune into you.“ Raphael gave a dry chuckle. „This is just too good.“

The blood Astarion had just had threatened to come back up. He shook with the pain, tears welling up in his eyes and rapidly seeping into the pillows.

„This will hurt“, Raphael warned, then placed a burning hot finger on the naked flesh, muttering an infernal incantation.

Astarion screamed, mindlessly (and fruitlessly) fighting Raphael’s grip. Powerless as he was, he could curse and cry all he wanted, in the end he‘d inevitably endure whatever the devil wanted to do to him.

A hint the smell of burnt flesh managed to squeeze past the pillow into Astarion’s nose, and he gagged realizing it was his own.

As this unfortunately wasn’t the first rime he had had to smell his own ruined flesh, Astarion did what he always did, and shut his mind off, retreating somewhere dark, lonely, and safe.

Eventually, Raphael pulled him up onto his lap, muttering words to him that Astarion heard but didn’t understand.

Astarion came to when his cheek was patted.

He blinked away the daze from his eyes and found himself laid out over Raphael’s legs, cradled in his arms. The devil had taken human form again.

„All done“, Raphael announced when he was certain Astarion was able to understand him.

Astarion scowled, shifting his body a bit, testing it out, before snarling: „Let me the hells down!“

The wound had healed, the pain was gone. But Astarion was still shivering with the adrenaline from before.

Raphael didn’t let him clamber off his lap, keeping him there with ease. „No. It’s high time you learned to stay where I put you.“

Glowering up at the devil, Astarion replied. „Fine, lesson learned.“

„Oh, have you now?“ Raphael laughed. „I have difficulty believing that, little mouse.“

„Are you seriously blaming me for cursing, after you just cut me open, again?“

„What I did was necessary“, Raphael said bluntly. „Mizora tracked you with this. Two of her minions I have already disposed of while you were sleeping. You, little mouse, should have told me she put a sigil on you.“ He stroked Astarion‘s cheek like a lover.

„I…“ Astarion was dumbfounded. „I didn’t know! She also ran me through and almost crushed me with chains! I wasn’t paying attention as to WHAT she was cutting into my back, you prick!“

The hand on his cheek stopped, and Astarion felt the faint echo of claws instead. „Careful, little vampling. I enjoy your bite, but you‘d do well not to overdo it.“

„Can you just let me down so we can…“ Astarion tried twisting out of Raphael’s arms again, and was unsuccessful, again. „So we can come up with a plan?“

„We?“ Raphael smiled darkly. „WE aren’t going to come up with anything. I already made a plan while you were sleeping.“

Dumbfounded, again, Astarion said: „Well. Care to share with the class, darling?“

„First“, Raphael stood up from the bench, Astarion still in his cradling grip, „We need to discuss something. Lay down some ground work.“

„Fine.“ Astarion resigned himself to remain in Raphael’s arms. „Honestly I‘m just happy to be included.“

Raphael grumbled at the jab, then sat on the bed. „First: When Mizora killed the spawn, did you see his sigil?“

„What? You did see my memories, right?“ At Raphael’s scowl, he sighed. „No, I didn’t see the sigil. I was a bat with its wing stuck, and about to be captured by a bitch she-devil. I had other things on my mind.“

„Hm. I have already surveyed the site. Naturally, the body has been removed, by your old master, I presume.“

Astarion wrinkled his nose, barely suppressing a snarl.

„The good news, little mouse, is that everyone should be at the same place now. Every missing piece. One spawn left alive, one dead spawn with a sigil yet unknown, and a vampire lord. And,“ he raised a finger. „somewhere in the palace as well. Despite this setback, we are still very close.“

„Yes… well…“ Astarion managed an awkward shrug, still not nearly ready to face Cazador. „If we could avoid… subjecting me to his compulsion again… please.“ He swallowed, the plea bitter on his tongue. „We can find him on our own.“

„That’s not what I want to discuss. Not yet anyway.“

It was, however, very much what Astarion wanted to discuss.

„Your bat form“, Raphael interrupted his attempt to make a case for himself. „Is it unavailable now? We could use it.“

„I…“ Astarion swallowed his retort. „It’s dead. I tried yesterday, and it… it didn’t work.“

„Try again, now“, Raphael urged. „You’ve had some rest, some blood.“

Astarion wrinkled his nose a bit. „Fine. Would you at least give me some room?“

„You can turn into mist, if you desire it“, said Raphael, smirking.

Astarion sighed, then closed his eyes and focussed his mind on disappearing, getting away, smaller, faster, less conspicuous…

He turned into mist, whisking himself
out of Raphael’s arms, then willing himself into his bat form.

There was a tiny popping noise, then Astarion was the bat once more.

Flapping his wings, Astarion did a quick turn in the boudoir, then returned to Raphael, landing on his shoulder.

„Well done, little mouse“, Raphael murmured, raising a hand for Astarion to crawl onto.

Astarion obeyed, doing a little hop to the warm palm offered to him.

He‘d never admit it, but it felt good being back in this form. The bat (although ugly) did have its charms.

Raphael lifted him up in front of his handsome human face. „This is good. Now we know your bat form is disposable, technically. Even after destruction, it will become available again.“

A tiny growl escaped Astarion‘s lips. Losing his bat form had been agonizingly painful. Not an experience he was keen on repeating.

„Oh?“ Raphael chuckled. „And what are you grumbling about?“

Astarion waddled towards the devil’s finger tips, wanting to leap off and turn back so they could have an actual conversation. But Raphael quickly caged him in.

„Stay like this, for now.“

Astarion squeaked and pushed at Raphael’s finger, signalling that he wanted to be let go.

Raphael opened his hand, giving Astarion some space.

„Let me try something.“ He muttered a spell, then nudged Astarion’s head. „Speak. I should be able to understand now.“

„Could we make a habit of not manhandling me, especially when I‘m like this?“

Raphael smiled. „No.“ He leaned back, Astarion still on the palm of his hand. „So, a plan. Now that I destroyed the tracking rune, we should be able to move undetected.“

„Do we have to do this while I sit on your hand?“ Astarion bristled.

„Yes. I find this form endearing.“

Baring his tiny teeth, Astarion sighed. „Fine. Making a plan.“

„I‘m all ears, pet.“

„How much does your father know?“, chanced Astarion. „Are you able to just… walk around here? Or does he have spies looking out for you?“

„More spies than either of us think. He knows I‘m planning to steal the ritual. I expect he‘s warded the palace against me. However, he doesn’t know about you, yet. When he attacked me, you weren’t there. He‘ll have suspicions, but as long as he doesn’t see you…“

Astarion swallowed, gathering his courage. „I could… scout ahead. I could survey the palace, look for Cazador and Aurelia.“ (He refused to let himself despair over her looming death) „As a bat, no-one could find me. And Cazador still has to eat, so they’re bound to leave the palace, somehow.“

Raphael just looked at him for a long moment. „I‘ll admit this:“, he said. „I am reluctant to let you venture out on your own.“

„I‘d rather have it this way that be exposed to Cazador‘s compulsion again. If you allow him back in my head, he’d know where I am. I rather believe we want to avoid that.“

„Indeed“, sighed Raphael. „If you find and destroy the warding sigil, I could join you. Kill your old master, and finish this. But even with all this… I‘d be… he‘d find me. I‘d only have minutes. Being in the city is risky enough as it is, but I hear my father is currently suspecting me hiding out at the Devil‘s Fee.“

„Ah, so we have no time to waste, I think.“ Astarion spread his wings. „Did you want me to go right now?“

Raphael gently put the flat of his hand over him, grounding him. „Not quite yet. Come.“

He got up and walked over to the desk, setting Astarion down.

Taking a feather and dipping it in ink, he drew a circular symbol, then showed the paper to Astarion.

„Do not touch this under any circumstances“, he warned. „This is the sigil of Mephistophiles. He‘ll have warded the palace to stop me from interfering with his feast of souls. If you find this in the palace, destroy it.“

Astarion looked, trying to memorize the lines and swirls of the sigil. „If I‘m not allowed to touch it, how do I…?“ He stopped when Raphael extended a finger towards him. „No, no, what are you doing?“

„A gift“, Raphael said. „I‘m going to lend you some of my power. You were an elf in life, so you should have some basic understanding of magic.“

„I don’t“, Astarion scoffed, ignoring a strange sting of longing (?) in his chest. „Whatever magic you think to give me, it‘d be rather wasted, darling.“

„Let that be my concern“, said Raphael calmly. „Hold still.“

Astarion watched Raphael‘s finger close in like a life ending meteor. For some reason he expected the touch to hurt and burn… but no.

When the tip of the devil‘s human finger brushed his forehead, Astarion felt a gentle ripple in the air around him, ruffling his fuzz. It was warm, comfortable, soft.

Astarion blinked in confusion when Raphael lifted his finger again. „That was it?“

„Yes, little mouse. Can you feel it?“

„Yes, but…“

„Just a simple „dispel“. All you need to do is lean into the feeling. This feeling, my power in you. And say „negare“. Then the sigil should vanish.“

Astarion fidgeted. „Say… just hypothetically, if I can’t do it… then what?“

Raphael just looked at his tiny form for a few seconds, then muttered: „Change back.“

Astarion blinked, shuffling to the edge of the desk, then turned into mist, before swirling down to the floor. When he regained his elven form, he quickly found his feet and met Raphael’s gaze demurely.

It felt like there was a punishment coming.

„You think you‘ll fail“, Raphael said slowly. He got up and poured himself a glass of wine. „Care to tell me why?“

Astarion swallowed. Yes, why?

It was a good question, though the answer was obvious.

Nothing he had ever done had been enough. He had never been enough.

200 years of trying to run, or make things better, or at least please to lessen his suffering, all of it in vain.

Even when he was just obeying a simple command of Cazador‘s, he had somehow always done it wrong. Always reaped punishment regardless.

Really, all Astarion had been told he was good for… was being pretty. And letting himself be used by Cazador’s victims.

His thoughts weren’t of value since he was just an empty headed vain little thing.

Good for fucking, and nothing beyond that.

And now, after 200 years of sheer failure, he was supposed to do magic?

Astarion looked at Raphael and suddenly noticed he had stopped breathing. He took a calming breath, then another, trying to order his thoughts (useless!).

„Well?“ Raphael took a sip of his wine. „There’s an awful lot going on in your head all at once, little mouse“, he smiled. „Isn’t there?“

„No“, Astarion replied automatically. „No, master.“

„No?“ Raphael seemed incredulous. „Sweetling, you forget I am perfectly aware of your thoughts.“

„Then you know the answer to your question already!“

„Regardless, I‘d like you to say it yourself“, replied the devil calmly.

Astarion was seething. „Fine, master“, he hissed, then put up his old trusty mask, smiling lightly. „As you‘re perfectly aware, I‘m good for little else besides my body. I can’t even warm anyone’s bed, I‘m just…“ He tried staying flippant, he really did. But his voice began to quiver (pathetic, do not slouch!) „I‘m… just…“ (this is all you were good for, and you can’t even do that anymore… useless. pathetic. little. boy.) „I‘m nothing.“

Silence settled in the room, but in Astarion’s head, there was the beat of that voice growing louder and louder, the echo of the words bouncing around in his empty pretty head

Useless. Pathetic. Stupid. Vain. Good for nothing.

Raphael set his glass aside, the chiming clink enough to make Astarion blink and realize where he was once more. Who he was with.

„I can shield you from your old master‘s grasp by means of magic“, said Raphael. „But this, my little mouse, is all you.“

It certainly sounded like Cazador in his head. Unfortunate then, that the memory was almost as loud as the actual voice in the here and now had been.

„I told you, Astarion, repeatedly, not to lie to me.“ Raphael came closer as Astarion stood there, frozen. His very human hands reached towards his neck.

Astarion braced, but the devil merely grasped his collar and straightened it.

„I‘m not.“

„Yes, you are.“ Raphael took his time tucking the fabric in place. „You are more than some shambling undead blindly following your master. Including me, unfortunately, but that shows defiance, spirit, fire.“

Fire.

Astarion blinked, astounded by what Raphael was saying to him. Only then he noticed the tears running down his cheeks. He was crying, had been for a good while by now.

„I wouldn’t have taken you as my ward unless I had seen your spark. Your body, while extremely alluring“, he smirked. „isn’t where I saw your value. No, your sire, even in 200 years, hasn’t managed to break you.“

Astarion didn’t overhear the unspoken „And I want to see if I can do it“, yet he couldn’t help but squirm at the compliment.

No one had ever called him strong, or spirited. Or fiery.

„So“, Raphael finished. „Just think what you can do with me behind you.“ The devil have his collar one final tug, then moved behind Astarion, running a hand down his arm, then grasping his wrist and raising his hand towards the paper bearing the sigil. „Try it“, he whispered in Astarion’s ear.

Astarion, overwhelmed with a feeling of hope, leaned into the sensation, reigniting the spark of longing again. Then he whispered: „Negare.“

The sigil blurred and shifted as if fighting its dissolution, then vanished.

Staring with his mouth still open, Astarion bit back a sob. The feeling of nostalgia and joy was threatening to overwhelm him. Pride blossomed in his chest, fuelling the hope he had just found again.

It wasn’t a spark anymore.

It was a fire.