PLEASE BE AWARE

this story contains

BG3 spoilers

mixture of direct content from the game and my own interpretations/direction

slaughter and gore (obviously)

sexual content

possible triggering events such as rape, torture and abuse

Because Tav is Bhaalspawn in this story, I wanted her and Orin to be actual sisters, so I imagined Tav looking similar to Orin to go with the whole blood sibling thing (plus I think Orin is badass)

Chapter one

God's she smelled delicious

The vampire spawn stayed low, peering through the brush as he watched the two girls make thier way up the winding path. The foliage made it difficult for him to see clearly, but he didn't need to. It was the smell of her blood that gave it away. A sweetness blended with something... tangy? spicy...?? he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had noted the scent of it back on the ship, catching him off guard. It was so unique, he had wanted to explore it just a little more.

One dressed in brown leather and armour, holy symbols decorated her attire, clearly a cleric. Dark hair pulled tightly back from her perfect straight bangs in a neat long braid. When she spoke, her voice was smooth and soft, with a stern undertone. Astarion couldn't make out what she was saying, but in all honesty he didn't really care. Shifting slightly he leaned to the side to get a better view of the other girl, who walked just ahead of the cleric. She was barely taller than her companion, her clothing was... well, he narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the right description, unbecoming, but he could see she had a thin, fit body beneath. Her hair was long, ashy blond and in tied back in the most messy, unkept braid he thinks he's ever seen. What a strange pair the two made.

As the two drew nearer, Astarion realized he needed a plan. He watched the women intently, analyzing. After two hundred years of baiting, the spawn had become quite proficient at reading others.

Hand lingering on the knife at his belt, pieces of a puzzle quickly shifted in his mind and clicked together into a ploy. Whether they were hunters or heros, a damsel in distress was always alluring. Straightening is back, he rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath, here we go.

"Help!" He yelled out, stepping back into the clearing to be more visible.

The two girls wasted no time in rushing over. But they paused for a moment when they saw him standing there alone, cautious to proceed. Smart, He held back a smirk.

"Down there" he pointed into the brush below "its another one of those brain things..."

Leaving her companions side, the blond one moved forward towards him. Ah, so she was the bolder one, he noted. Well, he could slit her throat before the other could blink... he glanced at the dark haired cleric who stood at a distance...that would even the odds.

She stood beside him now, peering over the edge to where he had pointed. Astarion quickly scanned her. Milky skin and long pointed ears, she was obviously some kind of elf. Her brows furrowed, pale eyes squinted as she scanned the brush. Light pink lips moved into a small pout.

The scent of her sweet blood washed over him, intoxicating his senses for a moment. Suddenly very aware of how close she was, he swallowed and stepped back slightly.

"Can you see it?" He whispered.

She turned to look at him. Eyes lined in black, irises like silver. Her eyes bore into his with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

Her voice was unexpectedly gentle "I don't see anything, it must be gone now." She turned to walk away.

so be it...

Like a snake, his hand sprung out and grasped the back of her head. Fistful of hair, her head yanked back. It was unexpected, losing her footing she stumbled backwards. Astarion, moved like a cat, smooth and precise, simultaneously slipping the knife from his belt and sliding his leg behind her, his larger frame easily spinning her to the ground as she fell.

She landed with a thud, directly on her back, a pretty little scowl on her face. Astarion wasted no time stradding her, pulling her head up towards him and holding the knifes point to her throat. All he had to do was pull her a little closer into the blade, or push the blade into her exposed neck. Her hands shot up. One grasping his flexed forearm, the other clasping over his hand that held the hilt of the knife. Struggling against him she attempted to pull the blade away, but he only tightened his grip on her hair, forcing her head to tilt back, exposing her neck even further. Satisfied that he had control, he looked up.

"And you" Astarion hissed at the cleric "keep your distance, no need for this to get messy."

The cleric obeys, but her body is tense, her hands flex, she's ready for a fight "I need her alive" she stats, the words sounding very 'matter of factly'. However, the next words were far more threatening "stow that blade, or I'll show you how messy things can get."

"Oh?" The reply slipped through an entertained smirk "promises, promises." Coming to the conclusion that the cleric had no intent on escalating the situation he turned back to the struggling elf beneath him "I have other business I'm afraid." A more serious tone.

Something in the back of his mind prickled, and he tried to push it away for fear he might get distracted. But he couldnt help but no note how her body radiated heat. He could feel it pouring from her into him like waves. Where he straddled her was uncomfortably hot... feverishly so. Perhaps she is sick...

The elf looked at him, gritted teeth, as she wriggled helplessly beneath him. Silver eyes bore into him, a mixture of fear, anger and pleading. He wasn't the strongest, that's for sure, but he was at least strong enough to overpower her.

For a moment, he contemplated taking her to Cazador. Surely, he would be pleased. Her beauty was perhaps slightly unconventional... but she had a certain charm to her, and Cazador had accepted others much less beautiful. But her blood, it was unlike anything Astarion had ever smelled in his undead life. Cazador would certainly see what a treat his spawn had brought him. His master would drink the sweet girl dry, and then perhaps Cazador wouldn't flay him for his absence. If she tasted anything like she smelled, oh gods, she would be delicious.

Astarions gaze dropped down to her long, creamy neck. Blood and muscles flexed beneath the thin skin as she strained against him, her heart pounding. He knew it was forbidden, but thoughts drifted to how easy it would be to lean down and drag his tongue over the flesh, just an inkling of a taste. Perhaps Cazador would allow him to watch as he drained her. The spawn could revel in the scent as her blood hit the air. His mind had drifted off into an intoxicating place...

The elf beneath him noticed.