Author's Note: This chapter is posted a day early due to the oncoming hurricane. Next chapter will still be posted on Sunday, unless the weather has any other ideas.

Solas looked up and nodded gently towards Astarion as he approached. "Astarion, it's good to see you up and moving. I had hoped you might come seek me out. How are you faring?"

"All things considered, I could be worse. So, are you a healer? Leliana sent me your way, since you seem to know the most about this mark on my hand. But there's another private matter that requires a skilled healer to fix. It's rather important. Should I talk to you? Or perhaps… there's a better healer around?" Astarion asks carefully.

"I assume this is related to the worm-like creature living in your skull," Solas says, his face blank.

Taken aback, Astarion leaned away in disbelief. "You knew about it?" he asked, and wondered why Solas hadn't done anything about it. He looked at Solas with unease– as he wasn't sure about what else Solas might know about him, if he'd found the tadpole so quickly.

"I possess only the knowledge of its existence, but I am unfamiliar with its nature. I stumbled upon it while I was caring for you. Please, come inside my cabin. You can explain what it is and I'll see what I can do," Solas suggests, motioning to the house they were standing in front of. Astarion accompanied him into the cabin, and upon entering, Solas directed him to sit down on the bed. Astarion acquiesced, though a lingering uncertainty about Solas remained. There was an undeniable air of suspicion surrounding Solas that Astarion couldn't quite shake off. Something was off about Solas, but Astarion still couldn't figure out what.

"So how did you come to have a worm in your skull?" Solas asked, positioning himself before Astarion and gazing intently into his eyes, as if attempting to discern the presence of the parasite within him. It was unsettling, but Astarion really needed the tadpole out of his head, and Solas seemed to be his only option right now.

"It's… a bit of a long story. Essentially, I was abducted by mind flayers and kept on their ship, where they infected me with this tadpole. I was lucky to escape after a dragon attacked the ship and we crashed," he explained.

Solas studied him for a moment, as if trying to fully grasp what Astarion had just said. "You were on a ship that was attacked by a dragon?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of skepticism.

"Yes, although I'll admit my memories from that time are a little… askew. I seem to be missing some memories in between the time the ship crashed and my arrival here. I don't actually know much about the parasite, but I did find a book that referenced them once. From what I've read, the first step in becoming a mind flayer involves memory loss. I hope you understand why I need this fixed as soon as possible. I won't exactly be helpful to the inquisition and all that if I'm transforming into a mind flayer," Astarion says, his tone laced with a sense of urgency.

"So the parasite will transform you into a mind flayer? I've never heard of one. What exactly is a mind flayer?" Solas asked, curious more than anything else.

"To put it simply– well, a hideous hive-minded monster with tentacles for a mouth. They're quite dangerous, too, so it would be much more in your favor to remove the tadpole than to have me transform– especially since I have a magic hand. We wouldn't want a monster to be able to open rifts, now would we? Think of the chaos that would cause," Astarion replied.

"How long will you have, if this tadpole isn't removed?" Solas questioned.

"Well, from what I've read, the transformation starts on the first day, and takes about 7 days to complete. I'm not quite sure how long I've been asleep for, but I really should get this tadpole removed. We're running out of time."

"You've been asleep for the past three days," Solas responded dryly.

"What? Three whole days?" Astarion exclaimed, shocked and confused. He should have already started transforming by now, but besides some memory loss, he felt remarkably unchanged.

"It's possible that the mark is interfering with it. That's partially how I noticed that you harbored a parasite in the first place; the mark was reacting to it as you slept. Just lie back on the bed, and I'll see what I can do to remove it," Solas said, motioning for Astarion to lie back.

Astarion quickly raised his hands before him. "Hold on! Let's start with a promise that you won't kill me, ok? Or, let's say, take out an eyeball or something. I would like to leave here looking just as pretty as when I came in."

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm merely using my magic to investigate the parasite further. You DO want my help, don't you?" Solas asked.

"I– well, yes. Fine, continue," Astarion says, lying back on the bed and resting his head against the pillow.

Solas placed his hand on Astarion's forehead. Astarion felt magic flow from Solas's hand– but so did the tadpole. Astarion winced at the incredibly uncomfortable sensation of the tadpole burrowing deeper into his brain, sending a wave of shivers down his spine. He gritted his teeth as he felt intermittent stabs of pain as the tiny tendrils scraped against neural pathways, squirming and probing at his brain as if trying to hide from Solas's magic. He became disoriented, his surroundings blurring and twisting as a sudden wave of nausea fell over him.

Solas withdrew his hand when he saw it was becoming too much for Astarion to handle. "I won't be able to remove it– not without killing you, anyways. There is a powerful barrier over it– whoever put it there did not want it to be removed. However, the magic in the mark is likely weakening it, so I don't think you will have to worry about immediate transformation. I may also know of a potion that could weaken it further, but it will take me some time to gather the supplies. You'll be safe– for now. If you do notice any more symptoms coming on– please come see me right away. That mark and I are likely the only things keeping you alive right now," he said.

Astarion was disappointed that it couldn't be removed, but it was still extremely relieving to hear that there wasn't an immediate threat of becoming a mind flayer. He could use this time to enjoy his new freedoms– such as basking in the sun, and perhaps eating better prey than rats– as well as using this time to hunt Cazador down.

"You wouldn't mind if we just kept this as a little secret for now, just between us, would you? I wouldn't want to worry the others if they heard that their precious Herald might turn into a monster at any moment," Astarion said.

"You wish to keep this a secret? Fine. I will honor your wishes for now, but eventually there may come a time when they need to know," Solas responded.

Astarion stood up from the bed, and nodded at Solas. "I understand. Thank you, for what it's worth. I'll see you around," he says, then walks out of Solas's cabin.

Now that Astarion was no longer worried about the tadpole, he wondered about the extent of his new freedoms. He already knew that he could withstand the sunlight, but what else could he do? Would he be able to walk through houses, unannounced? Could he finally see himself in a mirror, after all of these years? Could he feed on a human?

Well, technically he could have always done that last one; if it hadn't been for Cazador. Still, the thought of it made him excited. It occurred to him just how starved he really was– he was absolutely famished. The urge for blood surged within him, intensified by the bustling camp teeming with people whose hearts pulsed with every passing moment. Many of them were weak too; it would be almost effortless for him to entice someone away in the depths of the night for a satisfyingly bloody meal. The prospect almost seemed laughingly easy– who would expect their 'Herald' to be of the biting variety? It would serve them right, though, for flaunting their necks around so carelessly.

Astarion quickly shook those thoughts out of his head. He knew they were only being driven by his hunger, and he knew the consequences of biting someone could be horrific. He didn't actually want to hurt anyone, nor did he want to be staked for doing so. He was just so hungry that his mind couldn't think clearly. He knew he needed to keep this part of him hidden at all costs. He wouldn't become like Cazador– he wouldn't let that side of him win. He hoped the night would come soon so that he could go hunt before he did something he would regret. This was the first time he's been around people who actually wanted him around, so Astarion didn't want to ruin that so soon by revealing his true vampiric nature.

He still had some time to kill before nightfall would arrive, though, so he went back towards the chantry to find Leliana. He had no idea what she wanted to speak with him about, but this could be a good opportunity to ask her for some maps. He still had absolutely no idea where he was, after all. He didn't recognize the name of the town, the goddess they worshiped, or the script they used. Honestly, it was a miracle that he even understood the language.

As Astarion made his way back to the chantry, he couldn't help but notice the numerous stares he garnered. Evidently, the fascination that people held for him was far from fading. Some individuals offered friendly waves, while others refrained, yet overall, it marked one of the warmest welcomes he had experienced within a town. His stroll back to the chantry was proving rather pleasant, until the serenity was shattered by a derogatory shout: "knife-ear!"

Astarion came to an abrupt halt, pivoting on his heel to confront the human that had just shouted at him. "What did you just say?" he asked, not actually sure what to make of the 'knife-ear' comment. It held an unfamiliar sting, and he suspected it was intended as an insult.

"I said that you're nothing but a filthy knife-ear. You're no Herald! You and your disgusting blood magic probably put the damned thing in the sky in the first place!" The man shouted, throwing a mug of beer directly at Astarion. Astarion swiftly stepped to the side and watched as the mug flew right past him. The man had disheveled hair and a wild look in his eye, and was practically swaying where he stood.

Astarion signed inwardly, his patience being tested. He had dealt with his fair share of insults, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. "Ah, my friend," Astarion said, his voice dripping with a sarcastic sweetness. "I must commend your ability to string words together even in your current state. Quite the feat."

The man scowled, his face reddening with anger. "You think you're better than us? Fancy clothes, fancy words, but you're still nothing but a disgusting knife-ear!"

Astarion's lips curved into a mocking smile. "Oh, my dear fellow, you wound me with your eloquence. Consider this a warning. Your drunken courage is laughable, but should you choose to test my patience further, you will find that my bite is FAR worse than my bark," he said, then turned on his heel and continued walking. The man made no further attempt to follow–or harass– him, but it did leave him wondering what he'd done to make the drunkard hate him so much in the first place. Perhaps the man just hated elves.

Astarion chose to forget the encounter for now, and he soon found Leliana standing outside of the chantry, talking to a few people Astarion didn't recognize.

"Astarion! How are you feeling? Did your talk with Solas go well?" Leliana asked, as she saw Astarion approaching.

"Yes. You wanted to talk?" he asked.

"Yes. Come inside the chantry– we'll speak privately," She said, leaving her companions behind and leading him into a private room.

"So, what did you wish to speak about?" Astarion asked, leaning back against a desk in the center of the room.

Leliana paused for a moment, as if deciding how she wanted to start the conversation. "I just wanted to know if there was anyone at home you'd wish to contact. There must be people wondering where you've gone," she said.

"No. I'd really rather not talk to anyone from there. It would be better if they thought I was missing, or dead. Although, because I am curious, how far away am I from Baldur's Gate?" He asked.

"Baldur's Gate? I've never heard of it. Is that where you're from?" Leliana asked, while making no attempt to hide her confusion.

"Yes, but you've really never heard of Baldur's Gate before?" Astarion asked, looking puzzled. He must be much farther away than he'd first thought. "Where am I exactly, anyways?"

"You're in Haven. It's a small town in the Frostback Mountains," She replied, but saw how confused Astarion still looked. "It's in Ferelden," she added, realizing her mistake. If Astarion really had been a slave, especially if he'd been a slave for a long time, he'd be unfamiliar with most locations.

"I've never heard of Ferelden. What else is nearby?" Astarion asked, hoping to find some idea of where he was.

"We're next to Orlais," she replied, but saw that Astarion still showed no signs of recognition. "What about Nevarra? The free marches? Anderfels? Not even… Tevinter?" she asked, putting a careful emphasis on that last word.

"None of those places ring a bell. Perhaps tomorrow we should locate some maps and proceed from there," Astarion proposed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice as the lack of recognition gnawed at him.

Leliana supposed it was a little bit of a relief that Astarion wasn't from Tevinter, but it wasn't enough to throw her suspicions of him away yet. "I suppose that's why we weren't able to find out any information about you. We had asked around, but no one seemed to know you,"

"You tried to investigate me? You were asking people about me?" Astarion asked, his tone turning ominously dark at the revelation. Things could go from good to very bad quickly if Cazador had caught wind of Astarion being here.

Leliana noticed the immediate change in Astarion's demeanor. "You appeared out of the fade with a mark on your hand. We had to," she explained.

"Well, stop. Don't. I don't need you prying into my life like that," Astarion said, a new fear growing at the thought that Cazador might find him again.

"Look– I'm sorry if you feel like we were trying to pry into your life. That wasn't our intention. But… I'd like you to be honest with me, please. Is the reason you don't want us to know about your life– is the reason why no one seems to know you– because you were a slave?" Leliana asks gently, not wanting to upset Astarion further but also wanting to know the full truth. If he really had been a slave, they would need to make sure to make arrangements to keep Astarion away from his master. No doubt that if his master found out Astarion was a part of the Inquisition, his master would either use it as an excuse to either have control over the Inquisition or try to reclaim Astarion as 'stolen property'. Not to mention that Astarion had also been abused, based on the scarring on his back. She didn't know where Baldur's Gate was located, but she did know that Tevinter was hardly the only place with enslaved elves.

Astarion stood still for a moment, his mouth agape, a flash of fear falling across his face. Her guess hadn't been wrong– but it made him wonder how much she knew. Did she know that Astarion was a vampire spawn? Was she just trying to get him to admit it, so that she could kill him? A slave was a very oddly specific thing for her to guess, so she had to know something. He might not have seen himself in a mirror in almost 200 years but he DID know that he didn't look like a slave.

"Look– I'm not trying to… insult you. I just know that elves being enslaved is quite common in other places. I'm the spymaster here, so it's my job to look into people, and based on some of the things I've noticed about you… I just thought there's a reasonable likelihood that you were a slave. But don't worry– if you really are a slave, we have no intentions of EVER bringing you back to your master. You're here now– so you're free. We would just like to be prepared, in case your master does come looking for you," Leliana responded.

Astarion pondered that for a moment, slowly connecting the dots between the earlier drunkard and the mention of enslaved elves. Maybe elf racism really was a thing here– which isn't good for him, but it at least meant that she didn't know anything about his vampirism. He'd much rather have mugs of beer thrown at him for being an elf than stakes thrown at him for being a vampire spawn.

Astarion sighed and looked down at the ground, as if ashamed. "I— yes. I was a slave. Although, I don't think you could ever truly prepare yourself for my master, if he were to come looking for me. I'd prefer it if you just didn't look into it anymore. If he thinks I'm dead… I'd rather have it stay that way," he responded. Honestly, he was almost glad that Leliana gave him this excuse. Now he could pass off any of his quirks as 'being a former slave'. Plus, the others would probably look at him with more compassion, and be more willing to listen to him, if they knew he'd been a slave. It's not like he was lying about being a slave, anyways. It was just a bit different than the type of slavery Leliana was thinking about.

"Thank you for trusting me. You're free now– we won't let your master try to claim you. If anybody bothers you here– please feel free to let us know. Please don't ever feel like we will force you into doing something you wouldn't want to do, either. Although I hope you understand the importance of that mark on your hand to the Inquisition, we won't force you to work for us. If it helps; we will pay you, too. You are one of the most important people to the inquisition, after all," Leliana says to him, gently putting her hand on his shoulder, as if to comfort him.

"Oh don't worry– I'll stick with you all, at least for now. I have no idea where I am, anyways. It's not like I have anything better to be doing," Astarion responded, giving her a smile. "Well, anyways, it's getting late and I'm getting hungry. I should get going,"

"Right. If you need anything, please feel free to ask. Just meet me back here at the chantry tomorrow– there's some people I'd like you to meet," Leliana said.

"Sure thing. See you then," Astarion said, then walked out of the chantry. It wouldn't be long now before it got dark, and Astarion was hungry.