Astarion decided to down his 'wine'. By now, Solas was already aware of his true nature, and letting the blood go to waste would be senseless. . Clearly, Solas had expended considerable effort in preparing the drink, and it seemed only fitting to enjoy it. Astarion turned his gaze once more toward Solas and offered a nod of acknowledgment.
"Yes, alright. I'm a vampire," Astarion admitted, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.
"You killed the wolf and bit Varric," Solas accused.
"I might have, yes. But does it truly matter in the grand scheme of things? Varric wasn't harmed. It's merely a small amount of blood – nothing substantial, really," Astarion replied, attempting to downplay the significance of his actions.
"What truly matters is how many lies you've woven since your arrival here. I was willing to keep the worm in your brain a secret, but this has gone too far. The others are growing suspicious of you as well, you know. The extent of your deception has become absurd. Why didn't you just come clean about being a vampire?" Solas asked, his frustration evident.
Astarion scoffed, his anger and sarcasm blending. " Are you kidding me? Since I arrived, all I've heard is 'demon this' and 'blood mage that.' Oh, and let's not forget waking up in bloody chains , surrounded by sword-wielding zealots, some of whom despise me just for being an elf! Honestly, can you blame me for wanting to keep the fact that I'm a bloodsucking monster under wraps? Gods!"
The slightly heated discussion between Astarion and Solas drew the attention of their fellow camp members, prompting them to approach and inquire about the commotion.
Cassandra stepped forward and asked, her gaze shifting between the two companions, "What's happening here?"
Solas replied in a casual tone, "I was just inquiring why Astarion never saw fit to inform us that he's a vampire."
Astarion's mouth fell open in shock, and if looks could kill, Solas might have been in danger. "What? Why would you tell her that?" he retorted incredulously.
"You're a vampire? The creature you were describing, the blood-drinker? The one who attacked Varric?" Cassandra questioned, her voice filled with urgency, demanding immediate answers.
Astarion's frustration was palpable as he sighed heavily. "Yes, alright! I'm a vampire. Might as well shout it from the rooftops," he confessed, his tone a mixture of exasperation and resignation.
Cassandra swiftly drew her sword and pressed it against Astarion's shoulder, dangerously close to his neck. Her eyes bore into him, her grip unwavering. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end you right now," she threatened, her posture poised for action. Varric stood nearby, clutching his crossbow, his expression tense, ready for whatever might transpire.
"See, Solas? This is why I don't tell people!" Astarion retorted, looking angry and offended. "Look– I'm not going to hurt any of you. You need me alive, and all I need is blood," he said, trying to reassure them, although fear was gnawing at him beneath his facade of confidence.
"You LIED to us!" Cassandra shouted at Astarion, her fury palpable. "You attacked Varric! How much of what you've said is actually the truth?! Were you involved with the breach, too?" Cassandra demanded, her sword pressing against Astarion's neck, a thin trickle of blood seeping from the cut, intensifying the tension in the air.
"W-Wait! I had no involvement with the breach, and there's a reasonable explanation for everything! Please, let's not rush into anything," Astarion pleaded, his fear now evident as his face twisted with worry. He held his hands out in a gesture of surrender, fully aware that he was in a precarious situation and mentally preparing for the worst.
"Ah, well, let's give our fanged friend here a chance to spin his tale, Cassandra. Maker knows I'm all ears," Varric said with his trademark wit, fixing his gaze on Astarion. He couldn't help but admit his own surprise at not having pieced together the truth earlier, especially given that he had jokingly referred to Astarion as 'fangs.' The two puncture scars on the side of Astarion's neck, matching the wolf's more recent bite, should have been a clear indicator.
Cassandra regarded Astarion for a brief moment before she reluctantly lowered her sword. "Fine. But remember, any tricks or lies, and it won't end well," she warned sternly.
Astarion let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I promise, I won't deceive you," he said, his tone earnest.
Cassandra wasted no time and fired her first question. "So, where are you really from? That 'former slave from a distant land' story of yours was clearly fabricated. I'm not sure how I ever believed it– it sounds so fake now that I say it aloud," she remarked, skepticism tinging her voice.
"Oh, I never lied about that. I truly am from Baldur's Gate, and I was indeed a slave," Astarion affirmed.
"So, how did they manage to shackle you, Fangs? Can't imagine it was a stroll in the park. Blood magic in the mix, perhaps?" Varric chimed in, his curiosity tinged with a hint of concern.
Astarion shook his head. "No, it's not blood magic. My master is a vampire named Cazador—and I'm his spawn. He killed me and transformed me into what I am now, enslaving me in the process. Vampires have dominion over their spawn, so I had no choice but to obey his commands, as terrible as they may be. He's far more powerful than I am," Astarion explained, his voice carrying a hint of resignation.
"What about the other stuff you told us about vampires? Like the sun sensitivity. That must be fake– you can clearly walk in the sun," Cassandra asked.
"I'm not entirely certain how I can stroll in the sun like it's a casual affair, but I suspect that peculiar mark on my hand might have something to do with it. It's been close to 200 years since I last glimpsed sunlight before ending up here," Astarion replied.
"You truly are 200 years old, but it's solely because of your vampiric nature. Your 'high elves' story was nothing but a fabrication," Solas accused.
"What? No. I didn't lie about that, either. It genuinely surprises me that you don't know what I'm talking about. I am a high elf. A vampiric, undead high elf– but a high elf nonetheless. It's simply how I came into this world," Astarion clarified.
Solas scrutinized him intently, searching for any trace of falsehood but found none. "Very well. If you are indeed telling the truth, then I suppose I'll have more questions for you later," he conceded, his skepticism still present but tempered by Astarion's apparent honesty.
"Well, here's a burning question: why in the Maker's name did you bite me?" Varric asked, a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance in his tone.
Astarion hesitated before answering, "I... I wanted blood, and you seemed like the least likely person to kill me if you woke up while I was indulging myself."
Varric arched an eyebrow and quipped, "You know, I'm not entirely sure if that's a compliment or not. But hey, I'll take it as a vote of confidence."
"Well, it's quite evident that you're capable of feeding on animals. So why on earth did you choose Varric instead of another animal?" Cassandra demanded, her tone firm.
Astarion continued to explain, his emotions evident. "Cazador strictly forbade me from feeding on 'thinking creatures.' I subsisted on whatever he permitted, which was typically foul, decaying rats, and occasionally a live one if I lucked out. Sometimes, it came down to bugs if I wasn't so fortunate. But after being here... I just had to know that I could bite someone. If Cazador's hold over me remained intact, I wouldn't have been able to. Yet, as it turned out, I could," he admitted, his face a turbulent sea of emotions. "Plus," he added with a wry smile, "you all do smell rather delectable . It was hard to resist."
"That's quite the gruesome tale, my friend. But it seems you're finally rid of that bastard. If this 'Cazador' ever dares to show his face around here, well, let's just say he won't be leaving in one piece," Varric said with a trademark grin, his tone carrying both reassurance and a hint of righteous indignation.
""So, Cazador is still lurking in Baldur's Gate?" Solas asked.
"Yes, I believe he's there, or at least I hope so. I can't imagine he's thrilled that I've slipped away, so he's likely searching quite fervently. It would be... well, more than just unfortunate if he ever discovered my whereabouts. We wouldn't stand a chance in a fight," Astarion explained, his voice tinged with unease.
"I've noticed those scars on your back—do they play a role in how he controls you, or are they related to your transformation into a vampire?" Solas asked, his curiosity evident.
"No... it's a poem, one that he took the time to lovingly carve into my back over the course of a night, making multiple revisions as he went," Astarion replied, his voice heavy with the weight of those memories.
"What does it say?" Solas asked.
"I've never actually seen my scars," Astarion admitted, his discomfort becoming more pronounced. Discussing his past abuse was deeply unsettling for him, and he wasn't ready to reveal all his secrets to the current group.
Solas seemed surprised and asked, "Not even in a mirror?"
Astarion shook his head. "No... I don't have a reflection," he explained, revealing another aspect of his vampiric nature that set him apart from the others.
Varric, intrigued by Astarion's revelation, excused himself momentarily. He returned a minute later with a small handheld mirror in hand and held it up for Astarion to see. Varric inspected the mirror, then shot Astarion a genuinely surprised expression. "Well, I'll be damned. You're not kidding. You really don't have a reflection," he exclaimed, his tone a mix of curiosity and amazement.
"I've been telling the truth all along," Astarion reiterated. "So, any more questions, or can I finally get some rest? Tomorrow promises to be a long day," he said, though in reality, he wasn't actually tired. He simply wished to bring this conversation to a close.
Cassandra acknowledged, "I do have plenty more questions, and I'm sure Leliana will as well once we're back in Haven. However, I may have misjudged you to some extent. I won't kill you—under one condition," she stipulated.
Astarion leaned in, curious about her condition. "Go on," he prompted.
Cassandra made her demand clear. "You will not bite any more innocent people," she declared firmly.
"Very well, I can agree to that," Astarion said, nodding in acknowledgment. He couldn't help but notice that Cassandra had specified 'innocent' people, which left some room for interpretation. He considered that this might allow him to bite non-innocents, particularly their enemies. If they were already planning to kill someone, what harm could a little bite do?
"Good. Just remember, if I discover that any part of your story was a lie, you'll have much greater problems to contend with," Cassandra warned sternly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
With the intense conversation behind them, the group decided to call it a night, their lingering wariness towards Astarion somewhat eased by his candid responses. Astarion ventured out to hunt a boar that night, fully aware that his companions were keeping an eye on him.
The following morning, the group mounted their horses and departed from the Hinterlands, making their way back to Haven. During the journey, the group continued to ask Astarion more questions, allowing them to gain a deeper understanding of their unique situation. As days passed, their initial suspicions began to wane, and they gradually grew more comfortable around Astarion. True to his promise, Astarion limited his feeding to animals along the way, upholding the truce he had struck with Cassandra.
The group reached a consensus that Astarion's vampirism would remain a closely guarded secret. Instead, they decided to craft a cover story that portrayed Astarion as a former slave from Tevinter, who had managed to escape when his master died while attempting to spy on the Conclave. While presenting Astarion as an elvhen slave from Tevinter might not make them any new friends among their potential enemies, it could elicit sympathy from those who empathized with the plight of slaves, potentially gaining their support.
During their journey back to Haven, the group began to familiarize Astarion with the very basics of Tevinter, equipping him with enough knowledge to convincingly pose as someone from the region if the need ever arose. While none of them were experts in Tevinter culture, they possessed a general understanding that allowed them to provide Astarion with a basic grasp of the essentials. They believed that this cover story would suffice for the time being, considering it unlikely that the Inquisition would draw the attention of Tevinter. After all, there was no reason to expect anyone from Tevinter, who might be able to expose Astarion's deception, would be in their vicinity anytime soon… or so they hoped.
As the group continued their journey, they stumbled upon a Fade rift that had gone unnoticed until now. The immediate area was scattered with corpses, suggesting that they were not the first to encounter the rift. These bodies appeared to be relatively old, perhaps having been here for a week or two. Astarion, proficient in closing Fade rifts, took it upon himself to seal it. Following the successful closure, he began to search the corpses for any valuables, a practice he often indulged in. However, as he approached one of the human corpses, he experienced a startling sensation. It was as if his mind suddenly connected with something, and an uncomfortable tingling sensation surged through his head, leaving him bewildered and uneasy.
Astarion's eyes widened in horror and disbelief as he watched a tadpole emerge from the corpse's eye socket. The grotesque creature began to crawl around the face, its movements unnervingly deliberate. He couldn't shake the sensation of a strange connection forming between himself and the tadpole, as if the creature was imploring him to take it and consume it. The very idea sent shivers down his spine.
"Sweet Andraste's knickers! That's disgusting. I've never laid eyes on a maggot that size before," Varric exclaimed, his revulsion plain as day as he observed the tadpole emerging from the corpse.
Cassandra, her tone resolute, added, "That's precisely why we should avoid disturbing the bodies." She promptly crushed the tadpole under her boot, killing the creature and unknowingly severing Astarion's mental connection with it.
Ignoring Cassandra's admonition, Astarion proceeded to carefully loot the body, recognizing that the creature emerging from the corpse was not a maggot but a tadpole, a sight he was all too familiar with. The body didn't yield much, but Astarion managed to retrieve a silver necklace adorned with an unfamiliar symbol and a letter from the pocket.
With a sense of curiosity and apprehension, Astarion gingerly opened the letter and was taken aback when he realized he could read it. The sender of the letter and its recipient appeared to be from Baldur's Gate or the surrounding regions. While the letter didn't contain much information, it issued orders for the recipient and other individuals referred to as 'True Souls' to make their way to Moonrise Towers to receive a blessing from someone called the Absolute. Astarion couldn't decipher the full meaning of the message, as the terms were unfamiliar to him, but the fact that he could read it left him with a sense of accomplishment and curiosity.
"What do you have there?" Solas asked, noticing Astarion reading the letter.
"A letter—something I can actually read. Look," Astarion replied, displaying the document.
Solas leaned in for a closer look, scrutinizing the unfamiliar language. "This doesn't resemble any language I've encountered in my travels. It's quite intriguing," he remarked, his curiosity piqued.
The journey back to Haven proceeded without any major incidents. Upon their return, the group split up, each member attending to their respective duties. The day following their return, Cassandra called a meeting in the Chantry war room, with the intention of having Astarion explain his situation to Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine.
Astarion recounted the details of his vampirism to them, eliciting shocked expressions from the trio. Recognizing that his words alone might not be sufficient to convince them, Astarion took out a clear glass filled with blood and drank it in front of them, dispelling any lingering doubts. Josephine quickly excused herself, her complexion turning slightly green.
However, Astarion's respite at Haven was short-lived. He was promptly dispatched to Val Royeaux upon his return. Val Royeaux appeared to be a typical affluent city in Astarion's eyes, but what intrigued him the most was the pervasive fear that seemed to grip the populace upon the Inquisition's arrival. The Templars were awaiting their audience, as the Chantry had sought additional protection against both the Inquisition and the Herald. Astarion couldn't help but find the situation somewhat amusing. What truly took him by surprise, though, was when one of the Templars struck a Chantry mother, causing her to collapse to the ground. Really, Astarion hadn't been expecting that one.
After some deliberation and discussions, the Templars decided to depart from Val Royeaux, leaving Astarion without any significant new allies, except for a group led by an elf called 'Sera' and her Red Jennies. While their mission in Val Royeaux hadn't achieved everything they had hoped for, it had created a substantial political stir and established the Inquisition as a formidable presence committed to closing the Breach. So, despite not being a complete success, the journey had proven worthwhile.
Once back in Haven, Astarion couldn't deny his weariness from constant travel. The role of the 'Herald of Andraste' had proven to be far more demanding than he had anticipated. However, he knew that it was still much more preferable than being under the control of Cazador. After some much-needed rest, he headed to the Chantry the following morning to continue discussions and planning with his inner circle.
A man donned in sturdy armor stood near the entrance of the Chantry, attempting to engage with several individuals, only to be repeatedly ignored. Evidently, his frustration was mounting, but he refused to give up.
Astarion observed the situation from a distance, initially tempted to let it be. However, his curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to approach the man. With his usual casual charm, Astarion addressed him, "Hello, darling. Do you need something?"
The armored man nodded, relief apparent on his face. "I've got a message for the Inquisition, but I'm having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me," he explained, scrutinizing Astarion.
Astarion responded with a flirtatious tone, "Truly? How surprising. I don't see how anyone could truly ignore you, with a face like yours. Well, I'll hear you out."
"Thanks. I'm Cremisius Aclassi, with the Bull's Chargers Mercenary Company. We mostly work out of Orlais and Nevarra," Krem introduced himself, his demeanor steady. "We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you'd like to see what the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work."
Astarion raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh, you're a mercenary company looking for work? Why should I hire you?"
Krem responded confidently, "We're loyal, we're tough, and we don't break contracts. Ask around Val Royeaux. We've got references."
Astarion couldn't resist a playful comment, asking, "And why do you want to work for the Inquisition? I can't imagine it's just to see my pretty face."
Krem responded matter-of-factly, "The Iron Bull thinks you're doing good work."
Astarion chuckled at the unexpected endorsement. "Really? And here I thought everyone was scared of us. That I'm some kind of desire demon from the Fade who opened the breach to ruin all of Thedas…or something like that. You said your commander is 'The Iron Bull'? That's certainly a unique name."
"Yeah, well, he's one of those Qunari, you know, the big guys with the horns. We usually just accept contracts from whoever makes the first offer, but you're the first time he's actually gone out of his way to pick a side," Krem explained.
Astarion nodded thoughtfully. "Oh, he's a tiefling. Alright, I suppose I'm intrigued enough. I'll consider your offer."
Krem smiled appreciatively. "I appreciate it. We're the best you'll find. Come to the Storm Coast, and you can see us in action."
"Very well," Astarion replied before slipping into the Chantry to continue his day. The thought of joining up with the mercenary group promised a refreshing diversion from the tiresome political machinations he had recently been entangled in. Tomorrow, he would ensure that meeting 'the Iron Bull' took precedence over whatever else may be going on.