The journey to Redcliffe proved relatively uneventful, a welcome relief for Astarion. Throughout the trip, the Iron Bull persistently probed into Astarion's past, particularly about Tevinter, but Astarion adeptly maneuvered to avoid divulging too much. Astarion's companions also played their part in diverting these conversations, which intrigued the Iron Bull even more. Bull had no doubt that Astarion was not an escaped slave from Tevinter, and he also suspected that Astarion never slept, as he had often caught Astarion pretending to do so. Despite Astarion's peculiarities, Bull saw no signs of malevolence; Astarion didn't appear to have any murderous intentions.

Upon reaching Redcliffe, a massive fade rift materialized right in front of the gated entrance, prompting the group to leap into battle, dispatching the demons and wraiths that emerged. However, this battle had an unusual twist: in certain areas around the rift, Astarion experienced extreme slowness, making combat extremely challenging. Yet, when he moved a few steps to the right, time seemed to speed up, and he could fight normally. Once the rift was closed, the guards opened the gate, granting them access to Redcliffe.

Inside, an Inquisition scout approached Astarion, revealing that nobody had been expecting their arrival. Solas found this puzzling, especially since Grand Enchanter Fiona was the one who had invited Astarion and the Inquisition for negotiations with the mages in the first place, at least according to Leliana.

Perplexed, Astarion chimed in, questioning the sudden change in attitude, "So, the mage leader we came all this way to meet doesn't even remember inviting us? Is this some poor attempt to backpedal?"

An elvhen mage hurried towards them, abruptly breaking into their conversation. "Inquisition agents, my sincerest apologies. Master Alexius is currently overseeing matters, not Grand Enchanter Fiona. However, he has yet to arrive; we anticipate his arrival shortly. In the interim, you are welcome to converse with the former grand enchanter. She can be found in the tavern, which has been temporarily vacated for the purposes of our negotiations," the mage informed them.

Astarion exchanged bewildered glances with his companions but decided to proceed cautiously. "This had better not be a trap. I put on my elegant attire today, not my murder attire. I'd hate to get bloodstains on it," he muttered before leading his companions into the Redcliffe Village tavern.

Varric gave a wry shake of his head. "You know, Fangs, I've got my doubts that bloodstains are high on your list of concerns."

Upon entering the tavern, they found only one woman and a few guards inside – the former Grand Enchanter Fiona, a petite elf with a notable air of authority. "Welcome, agents of the Inquisition. What has brought you to Redcliffe?" Fiona asked.

Astarion shot back in his typical sardonic tone, "Well, you invited us."

Fiona's response was adamant, "You must be mistaken. I never invited you here."

Astarion retorted, a hint of exasperation in his voice, "Well someone clearly did. We're supposed to be getting support from mages to close the breach in the sky."

Fiona shook her head and replied, "Unfortunately, the situation has changed. The free mages here have pledged themselves to the Tevinter Imperium."

Astarion stared at her with his mouth agape. "What, seriously? Tevinter? I was under the impression that they wouldn't be involved with anything here!"

The Iron Bull, clearly displeased, added his two cents, "See, this is why you can't trust mages," gesturing toward Fiona.

Solas offered a more measured response, shaking his head slightly, "I understand your fear, but you deserve better than Tevinter's slavery."

Fiona brushed aside their comments, saying, "As someone indentured to a Magister, I no longer have the authority to negotiate with you."

Astarion couldn't contain his confusion, gesturing wildly as he questioned her, "Hold on a moment. You, an elf , chose to side with a Tevinter magister—a place that literally enslaves elves—over working with us? Why in the hells would you do that?"

Fiona explained her decision, "This pact with Tevinter may not have been my first choice, but we had no other option. We're losing this war, and I needed to save as many people as possible."

"By committing them to be 'indentured'? How is that any better? " Astarion asked, disbelief still present in his expression.

As the group processed this information, a door creaked open, and they turned to see a hooded human, accompanied by a younger man, entering the tavern. The hooded man greeted them, "Welcome, my friends! I apologize for not greeting you earlier."

Fiona introduced the newcomer, "Agents of the Inquisition, allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius."

Magister Alexius approached, focusing his attention on Astarion. "You're the survivor, aren't you? The slave who emerged from the Fade? Fascinating ," he remarked, scrutinizing Astarion from head to toe.

Astarion responded honestly, "You're certainly a long way from Tevinter. I didn't expect any 'magisters' to be in this area."

Alexius acknowledged the difference, saying, "Indeed I am, although you're not exactly Ferelden either. You're from Tevinter also, albeit from a much lower position than mine." He motioned to a nearby table and took a seat, gesturing for Astarion to do the same.

The Iron Bull interjected, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "He's the Herald of Andraste now—show some respect."

Alexius chuckled in response, "Oh, come on now. You don't really believe that."

Astarion chimed in, sarcasm in his voice, "What, you're telling me you don't think I'm a desire demon or the Herald of Andraste? I'm almost offended. Everyone seems to love calling me those." He sat down in the chair opposite from Alexius.

Alexius dismissed the notion, "I've met some desire demons in my past, and they're most certainly not you. The Chantry around here spreading those lies clearly have no idea what they're talking about."

"I'd be disappointed, but you're clearly just a man of poor taste," Astarion replied, gesturing to Alexius's outfit. Despite being relieved that someone finally believed he wasn't a demon or the Herald, Astarion couldn't help but be wary of this Tevinter magister.

Alexius continued the conversation, shifting the topic to more formal matters, "Felix, would you send for a scribe, please? Pardon my manners—this is my son, Felix." He motioned toward the younger man who had entered with him. "I am not surprised you're here—containing the breach is no small feat. There's no telling how many mages will be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed."

A moment later, Felix approached the table, but stumbled toward Astarion. Felix fell towards the ground, but Astarion caught him before he could fall completely. After a quick recovery, Felix apologized, "Herald, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

Alexius looked at Felix with concern. "Are you alright?" he asked his son.

Felix assured his father, "I'm fine, father," though he appeared unwell.

Alexius made a decision, saying, "Come, I'll get your powders. Excuse me, friends, but we must continue this another time." He left the room with Felix, clearly prioritizing Felix's health over the meeting with Astarion. Fiona and the guards followed after, leaving just Astarion and his group at the tavern.

"That was quite the spectacle," Varric remarked.

Astarion responded, "Felix, his son, is seriously ill. I could smell it in him– but that's not why he collapsed. He slipped this note to me," Astarion explained, handing the note to Varric.

Bull gave Astarion a skeptical look and questioned, "Did you just say that you could smell the sickness in him?"

Astarion backtracked, realizing his slip, "Yeah, I mean, haven't you been around sick people before? They have a very distinct smell. It's not exactly pleasant. I'm surprised you didn't notice it."

Solas redirected the conversation, asking Varric, "What does the note say?"

Varric read aloud, "Come to the Chantry. You are in danger." He couldn't resist a sarcastic jab at Astarion, adding, "Wow, Fangs. You've really got a knack for making friends, don't you?"

Astarion smirked, "Well, this should be interesting. Let's head to the Chantry. Maybe we can kill something."

"Whatever happened to not ruining your clothes?" Solas asked, a small smile present on his face.

"I changed my mind. A little blood won't hurt me," Astarion replied.

As they approached the Chantry in Redcliffe, they garnered mixed reactions and curious glances from Chantry members along the way. Given their diverse group of a qunari, a dwarf, and two elves (one of whom was a mage and the other the fabled Herald of Andraste), it wasn't surprising. They overheard whispers, rumors, and debates, some labeling Astarion as a demon, while others believed he was a slave freed by Andraste herself for the purpose of helping them. Astarion paid no mind to the chatter, leading them straight into the Chantry.

Upon entering, they were immediately thrust into battle. A sizable rift was within the Chantry, and a tan, mustached man was vigorously beating the ever-loving-shit out of a demon with a staff. "Good, you're finally here. Now help me close this, would you?" the man called out to Astarion.

Astarion responded with a grin, "How could I resist such fun ?" He charged into the fray with his daggers drawn.

The rift displayed the same peculiar time fluctuations as before, with some areas moving fast and others slow. Nevertheless, the group, aided by their newfound sorcerer ally, managed to swiftly close it. Astarion placed his hand up to the rift one last time, a surge of green magic emanating from it, sealing the rift shut.

"Fascinating. How does that work, exactly?" the mustached mage asked.

"I thought it was fairly obvious, but if I must explain– it's magic," Astarion replied sarcastically to the man.

The mage chuckled, "You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers, and boom! Rift closes."

Solas interjected, "Who are you?"

Astarion assessed the man before him, carefully observing his appearance. It was evident that this individual enjoyed a life of privilege, a human likely in his thirties. His grooming was impeccable—hair elegantly swept up, and a perfectly curled mustache. Every detail of his appearance exuded meticulous care, and it seemed to be working quite well for him since the man possessed undeniable attractiveness. Astarion couldn't help but feel relieved that he was no longer in Cazador's employ, as this man epitomized the exact type of person Astarion hated having to bring to Cazador.

"My apologies, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?" Dorian introduced himself.

Bull offered a teasing warning, "Watch yourself. The pretty ones are always the worst."

Astarion couldn't resist a playful jab, "If that were true, then why did you join me?"

Bull retorted, "It's because of you that I know it's true."

Dorian glanced between Astarion and Bull, then commented, "I can understand all of the rumors surrounding the Inquisition now. You're quite a suspicious bunch, aren't you?"

Astarion continued to jest, "Yep, this room is full of nothing but suspicious characters. You should join us; you'd fit right in."

Dorian considered the offer, stating, "That's an offer I'd actually like to take up. Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable, as you can imagine."

Solas asked, "Shouldn't Felix be here? We were expecting to meet him."

"I'm sure he's on his way. He was to give you the note, then meet us here after ditching his father," Dorian explained.

Astarion leaned in with a sly grin, asking, "So, what's your real reason for wanting to join us? Besides my stunning looks and dashing personality, of course."

"Well, I'm sure you noticed that Alexius conveniently reached Redcliffe and took control of the mages just before you could– as if by magic, yes? That's exactly right– to reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself," Dorian said.

Astarion commented, with a hint of resignation, "He can manipulate time itself ? Well, why not? My life only seems to keep getting crazier. Let's add time magic on top of it."

Solas, his curiosity piqued, added, "That is fascinating, if true... and almost certainly dangerous."

"The rift you closed here—you saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down. Soon there will be more like it, and they'll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it's unraveling the world," Dorian ominously warned.

Felix approached the group, having just entered the Chantry behind them. "My father's joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves 'Venatori.' And I can tell you one thing: Whatever he's done for them, he's done it to get to you," he said, addressing Astarion.

Astarion asked, puzzled, "Why would he rearrange time and indenture the mages just to get to me?"

Felix shook his head, uncertain, "They're obsessed with you, but I don't know why. There are many rumors surrounding you—perhaps it has to do with those?"

Dorian nodded in agreement, "He's right—you do have a lot of rumors about you. You can also close rifts. I can see the Venatori wanting to control you—whether you're a slave, a Herald, or a demon. Or maybe they just see you as a threat?"

"So all of this is really just for me ? And here I didn't get Alexius anything," Astarion said.

Dorian suggested humorously, "Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those."

Felix emphasized, "If the Venatori are behind any of the rifts—or the breach—then they're worse than I thought. They—and my father—need to be stopped."

Dorian addressed Astarion, saying, "You know you're his target. Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can't stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn't know I'm here, and I want to keep it that way. But whenever you're ready to deal with him, I want to be there. So, I'd like to join you."

Astarion replied with a sly smile, "How could I say no to such an enticing person?"

Dorian accepted, saying, "Good. We should be headed out then—Alexius will get suspicious if Felix is missing for too long."

"We have a camp not too far from here. You can follow us there," Astarion proposed.

Dorian added, "Perfect. Oh, and Felix? Try not to get yourself killed."

"There are worse things than death," Felix responded.

"That I can agree with," Astarion said, before leading the party out of the Chantry.

Astarion, Dorian, Bull, Varric, and Solas returned to their camp, a small area located just outside of Redcliffe Village. The camp consisted of some tents and a campfire in the center. Astarion had deliberately chosen the tent furthest from the others, with plans to sneak out and find himself a meal. This time, he had come prepared, with jars in his pack and a good supply of elfroot. The elfroot would prevent the blood from clotting in the jars, acting as an anticoagulant. He hadn't tested this method yet, but he had received the tip from Minaeve, the head creature researcher back in Haven, and had no reason to doubt her.

Astarion had also discovered that elfroot leaves had an addictive effect, especially on elves. Thus, it was likely that some of his companions suspected him of being addicted to elfroot, given how much he had been collecting lately. He wasn't even certain if vampires could become addicted to elfroot, but it was a risk he was willing to take in exchange for having a portable source of blood as he traveled.

That night, as Astarion was 'preparing to sleep', Dorian approached him outside of his tent. "Herald," Dorian began.

Astarion corrected him, "I'd prefer it if you called me Astarion, actually."

Dorian questioned, "You don't believe you're the Herald of Andraste?"

Astarion replied with a smirk, "Hardly. No God would want me to 'save the people,' 'do good,' and 'stop the evil breach.' Unless they were playing a practical joke on the world, anyways. But I doubt you came to chat about that. Is there something you wanted?"

Dorian studied Astarion, taking in every aspect of his appearance. There was no denying that Astarion was exceptionally attractive. It was easy to see why some might entertain the notion that he was a 'desire demon.' Dorian had encountered demons in his dreams before, and some of them had taken the form of elves bearing a striking resemblance to Astarion. However, deep down, Dorian couldn't help but acknowledge his own desire for a strong, well-built man to shower him with love and affection—an unattainable wish in Tevinter. Despite these fleeting thoughts, he believed Astarion's appearance could be entirely attributed to the influence of magic, rather than any demonic origin. He had known several households in Tevinter that altered their slaves' appearances to look attractive and powerful.

Dorian pressed on, adding, "Well, I simply wished for a private conversation. I've heard rumors that you were once a slave in my homeland. There are also whispers suggesting you're a desire demon from the Fade, though, given the lack of any attempts to enter my body and possess me, I'm more inclined to believe the former—that you were a slave."

Astarion couldn't resist a flirtatious comeback, "Well, I can most certainly enter your body if that's what you're into," winking playfully.

Dorian looked slightly taken aback. "Wait, is that something you're comfortable with? Well, not that I mean to pry into your past, but relationships between two men…?" he asked.

"Dorian, I was something of… well, a prostitute, for lack of a better word. I've had my fair share of experiences. Why in the hells would I care about your preferences?" Astarion responded.

"You were a…? Oh. I'm sorry. My apologies if I crossed a line. Can we just start this conversation anew?" Dorian suggested.

"Just spit it out, Dorian," Astarion said.

"Right. I just wanted to make sure you weren't uncomfortable with me being here. I know my countrymen can be quite… cruel to slaves, and I'm not like that. I wasn't ever a part of that," Dorian explained.

"Have you possibly considered that I wouldn't have invited you along, if I hadn't wanted you here?" Astarion asked.

"Well, I don't know. I just wanted to clear that up. I know some of your companions are wary of me," Dorian said.

Astarion laughed a little. "Well, some of my companions are still wary of me . I wouldn't look into it that much," he said.

"Well… good. I look forward to fighting alongside you," Dorian said.

"Same. I'll see you tomorrow, Dorian," Astarion said, and watched as Dorian walked away. It was almost a little sad, but Dorian was the exact type of person that would be so easy to lure away. A bit of charm and attention, and Dorian would likely succumb to his advances. Astarion could sense that Dorian yearned for the touch and companionship of another man, which led him to contemplate the idea of getting closer to Dorian. If it took only a modicum of affection and intimacy to win him over, the temptation was undeniable. Dorian was undoubtedly a formidable sorcerer, and having such a powerful ally constantly by his side would be advantageous. If he were fortunate enough—assuming Dorian developed strong feelings for him—he might even manage to convince Dorian to let him feed off him, though he knew he was getting ahead of himself.

Astarion waited in his tent until well after dark when his companions were asleep before venturing out to hunt. He covered the bottoms of the jars in elfroot and stealthily slipped out of camp. H is hunt that night proved to be quite successful, as the nearby woods were teeming with bears. Although he sustained minor scratches in the struggle, he eventually managed to subdue one of the bears. The spoils more than compensated for the scratches, as he not only indulged in drinking directly from the bear's neck but also expertly sliced open its arm, allowing the blood to drip into his jars and fill them to the brim. The bear's ample blood supply more than satisfied his needs for the night.

Astarion felt genuine excitement as he witnessed the blood not clotting, thanks to the elfroot mixed in. Now, his sole concern was keeping this secret hidden from the companions who remained unaware of his blood-drinking habit. As long as they refrained from inspecting his tent, it should remain undetected. With utmost caution, Astarion stealthily returned to the camp, slipping into his tent unnoticed. He discreetly stashed the jars in the corner, ensuring they remained concealed from any curious onlookers unless they ventured directly inside the tent.

The next morning, they received word from Leliana's ravens that they were to remain in Redcliffe; as Magister Alexius had issued a formal invitation to Astarion to meet at Redcliffe Castle. Everyone was aware that it was a trap, but Dorian proved to be invaluable, offering a way for Leliana's associates to infiltrate the castle and ambush Alexius. Alexius, of course, still had no idea that Astarion met Dorian, or that his own son was actively working against him.

Over the next few days, the group aided Redcliffe with various activities as the Inquisition prepared to confront Magister Alexius once again. The plan for Redcliffe Castle was straightforward: Astarion would engage Alexius to distract him while the Inquisition struck at the opportune moment. However, Astarion harbored few hopes of things going according to plan, seeming as it never had in the past.

After a few days, Astarion visited Redcliffe Castle, accompanied by Cassandra and Bull. They were initially stopped at the gates by some guards, as Alexius insisted on meeting Astarion alone. Astarion refused, and after feigning departure, the guards called them back, allowing him to enter with his companions. Magister Alexius sat upon a throne, awaiting Astarion's arrival. The room was filled with Venatori guards, poised to attack. Alexius approached Astarion, pleased to see him. "My friend! It's so good to see you again. I'm sure we can work out an arrangement that benefits all parties. The Inquisition requires mages to close the breach, and I have them. So, what will you offer in return?" Alexius inquired.

"Oh, nothing much. I was hoping you'd simply hand over the mages and call it a day. After all, I'd hate to soil my fingernails with your blood," Astarion replied, casually examining his fingernails.

" Excuse me? You're in a castle surrounded by Venatori. What makes you think you'd win?" Alexius challenged.

"What Venatori?" Astarion asked. At that moment, Leliana's spies emerged from the shadows, eliminating every Venatori in the room except for Alexius and Felix.

"You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark– a gift you don't even understand– and think you're in control? You're nothing but a mistake," Alexius retorted, seemingly undeterred by the demise of his guards.

"What was the point of the breach, then? Clearly you're responsible for that," Astarion said.

"It was to be a triumphant moment for the elder one. For this world!" Alexius proclaimed.

Felix stepped forward, interjecting, "Father, listen to yourself. Do you know what you sound like?"

Dorian, appearing from the shadows, added, "He sounds like the villainous cliche everyone expects us to be."

"Dorian, I offered you a chance to join us, and you declined," Alexius said, his gaze filled with resentment.

"Stop it, father. Give up the Venatori. Let the mages fight the breach, and let's go home," Felix urged.

"No. It's the only way, Felix. The Elder One can save you!" Alexius declared fervently.

"Save me? I'm already dying, Father. Just let me pass peacefully. I don't want this," Felix pleaded.

"There is a way, as promised by the Elder One. All I need to do is eliminate Astarion..." Alexius shifted his attention back to Astarion. From his pocket, Alexius retrieved an amulet, which began to emit sparks infused with the same eerie green energy found in fade rifts and emanating from Astarion's hand.

"NO!" Dorian cried out in alarm, recognizing the amulet's significance. He swiftly brandished his staff and attempted to cast a spell at Alexius to disrupt the magic, but his efforts were only partially successful. In an instant, a rift materialized right beside Astarion and Dorian, pulling them both into its depths before sealing shut behind them.