They say victory is sweet, a delight that gives you a boost when one's spirit is low. Yet, just like a sweet, too much of it can make you sick. No one knows this more than Astarion, a top lawyer at Szarr's Attorneys at Law. Right now, he's sitting in the courtroom with a client who he's spent more time fantasizing about stabbing with a pen than listening to. On the other side of the courtroom is Shadowheart, a defense lawyer who once worked for Shar's Justice Seekers firm but now works for a nonprofit called Selune's Grace. With her job change came a hair change, and now her once luscious locks resemble the stars rather than the night. Astarion kind of liked it but when he complimented his rival in the court, she responded with a glare and told him to shove his compliments down his throat so he can choke on them.

It was rather charming. He knew why she disliked him, of course. The man he was defending was obviously guilty but as usual, Astarion used his honeyed words to battle against the brutal truth Shadowheart was desperate to expose. If he were a better man, he'd drop his client. Maybe if he were a free one he would. Today, the case is coming to an end. His client Gortash never doubted he wouldn't win and why would he? Astarion had a hundred percent success rate, and in Cazador's words can make any crime seem like a simple mistake.

As if mistakes were victimless. In Astarion's experience, a mistake could lead to weeks without food, beatings, and a foster father who would never relinquish control. Out of habit, Astarion hated making mistakes but right now he wishes he had made some because once he did his closing argument, all of Shadowheart's efforts at justice would be proven useless. In another life, Shadowheart's client, Karlach, seemed like the type of person he could be friends with. In this one, however, he's the lawyer who helped the man who had destroyed her body all for profit. Astarion glances at her and sees Karlach is trying her best not to cry. Looking away, he squashes his guilt and numbs himself to the reality of his actions.

He thinks of her record. It was long and if Gortash hadn't intervened in her life then she probably would've ended up with a life sentence in a cell. This scenario is the one he'll present to the jury. He'll paint her as a lost cause until his client had given her a chance. A hand of hope to someone so lost and who in the end, squandered it. Astarion feels sick but he maintains himself, remembering the punishment if he loses. Shadowheart begins her closing argument, painting Karlach in a realistic light that he soon will cast a shadow over. He tries to tune her out but it's difficult because Karlach's life reminds him so much of his own. Changing his observations, he decides to study the jury, who are eating up Shadowheart's words, unaware they'll soon be hooked on another's.

He stops studying them and reads over his closing argument. Once done, he notices Shadowheart is close to finishing up and focuses back on her.

"So I ask you, people of the jury, to help give Karlach the justice she deserves," Shadowheart's words are pleading, and, wait, were those tears in her eyes?

Astarion finds himself impressed. He didn't expect her to fully lean into her emotions to help convince the jury to rule in her client's favor. Usually, she's very stating the facts and grilling almost anyone with her eyes but this, this is unexpected. Astarion watches as she goes back to her seat, wiping her eyes, and brings Karlach into a hug.

The judge calls for Astarion to speak his closing argument, and as soon as Astarion stands, he commands the attention of the room. He addresses the judge and jury as if they're long-lost friends he's welcoming back into his life. He spins them a tale of Gortash full of exaggerated tragedy rooted in half-truths and speaks of Gortash's bad judgments, implying Karlach was one of them. He also reminds the jury of how it was Karlach's responsibility to thoroughly read her contract and says her desperation just proves how bad her life path was before Gortash came along.

Karlach is trying her best to remain calm as she remembers how Gortash had practically sold her to Zariel. Zariel, who in turn had experimented on her and left her with irreparable mental damage along with scars that would never heal.

She maintains her cool but her anger rises with every grating word Astarion says.

"He gave her a chance, and we see how she's repaid his kindness. Tell me, are you really going to punish someone who only had someone's best interest at heart?"

Gortash lets out a fake and obviously planned sniffle after that line, which, much to Astarion's prediction, makes Karlach snap. Furious, she screams, lunging herself in the direction of Gortash. Before she reaches him, her arms are grabbed by two guards who drag her out of court.

"Karlach, you will be charged with attempted assault and contempt in court. Take her away!" The judge orders hitting his gavel on the judge's bench as he scolds her.

As Karlach is being dragged, Shadowheart begs for the charges to be dropped and almost loses it herself when she spots Astarion's smug smirk. Unlike, Karlach, Shadowheart keeps her cool when the judge denies her request and sits quietly when she's motioned to speak no longer. Shadowheart's eyes wavered to the jury and she knew that she had lost everything.

After Astarion's closing argument, the jury deliberates for two hours and then declares Gortash not guilty. Shadowheart rushes to leave the courtroom, looking disappointed, while Astarion lingers, as a mixture of shame and relief flows through him.

Gortash gives a congratulatory pat on Astarion's shoulder, which makes Astarion turn to glare at him and in the most poisonous tone, say, "Don't touch me, wretched ingrate."

Astarion gathers his things and once he has all his stuff, he leaves his complaining client alone.

Once in the hallways of the courthouse, he doesn't expect the ambush he receives. Shadowheart, like a jump scare, calls for him, shocking him as he eyes her warily.

"Yes," he says, looking at her expectantly.

"Are you happy with yourself, you smug bastard?"

"Let's not do this now, Shadowheart. You do have a client in a cell to visit after all."

"I heard about the Gurs you screwed over years ago and what they did to you. They should've beaten you dead."

Astarion winces, "Well, it's just one case, dear. Maybe if your client had a better lawyer she'd be celebrating right now."

Astarion tries to ignore the memories Shadowheart's words brought to the forefront of his mind. Once again, he could feel the knife twisting inside of him and his life hanging in the balance as he fought desperately against death. If it wasn't for his foster father finding him he would've been dead.

"Do you even have a conscience or care about anyone other than yourself?"

"Darling, I did what I was paid to do and I did it well. I'm sorry, you couldn't compare," Astarion starts walking away but he hears the clicking of Shadowheart's heels follow him.

"You threw out most of my evidence! " She exclaims. "Based on nothing but lies, so you could get it dismissed."

Astarion walks faster but she keeps up with his pace. "Not true, darling. It just wasn't sufficient enough and the judge clearly agreed."

"As if the judge isn't on your daddy's payroll," she says, snidely. "Is there no case you haven't won on your own merit?"

Astarion stops walking and glares at Shadowheart.

"Cazador isn't my father!" He snaps, his voice rising like a hand to a boy without hope.

"Never call him that." He continues, his tone deadly. "And I won this case fairly, darling, based on skill, something you clearly lack."

Shadowheart scoffs. "I almost think you believe that."

Before Astarion can reply with a rude remark, his phone rings. He picks it up without a thought, and his stance changes once he realizes who's on the other line. Minthara. She's telling him about a new hit that's been selling condos that aren't for sale to foolish buyers. Astarion wants to reply directly to Minthara but Shadowheart is too close and too unwilling to leave for his liking.

Eyeing Shadowheart, Astarion holds his phone to his chest and says. "If you would stop following me, I have things to do and to prove how great of a lawyer I am. I'll get Gortash to drop the charges against your client. Now, goodbye."

Astarion holds his phone up to his ear, and walks. This time, Shadowheart doesn't follow and Astarion is finally able to engage in a conversation with Minthara.

"Are you there?" Minthara wonders, and Astarion hears her shifting a bit. "Gods, Astarion, I promise you if you picked up while in the middle of hooking up with someone again."

"Sorry, darling, I was preoccupied, but with a gnat, not a lover."

"Did you manage to swat it away? Or shall I inform everyone of your now damaged reputation?"

Astarion reaches the courthouse exit and walks outside. The fall air hits his face and has a bit of winter's edge to it as it brings a chill over him. He lifts his collar up and hopes it'll help block the air's next attack. At least until he reaches his car.

"Of course I did, darling. I'm very skilled at getting rid of nuisances, among other things."

"Yet you clung to me when you saw a spider."

"Darling, the spider wasn't my true motivation for clinging to you," Astarion says, sprinkling his tone with lust. "Must I remind you of where we were?"

Astarion and Minthara had a relationship they couldn't put into words. Between them, no love had blossomed but carnal lust was abundant. The only real conversations they had with each other were usually about the swindlers she caught wind of. To Astarion, her information is the key to his success. Without her, his nightlife would dwindle, and those who swindled would roam free to unleash their nefarious schemes on naive people. For Astarion, there are two keys to a successful scheme, all with the underlying theme of hope. The first key is hope for more, because a pathway to success is top-tier desperation for someone who's never experienced it. The second key is emotions. Any emotions. Love is the most common one because so many people are desperate for it especially if it comes in a pretty package.

Astarion's mind drifts to the memory of clinging to Minthara in bed. For a second, he wonders what it'll be like to love her. What would that even entail? When Astarion wanted to get someone into bed, he used pretty words and pleasurable promises and it was always effortlessly easy. His beauty is the lure, while his words are the hook. Oh, and how hooked those who want him became but Astarion never enjoyed the experiences. Yes, he would brag about it sometimes when around less desirable acquaintances but the feeling of being pawed at like a dog with a bone felt, well, awful. At least with Minthara, Astarion felt more well, real. Or as real as someone with a mind as clouded as his could feel.

"The location doesn't matter, Astarion." She then changed the subject, ignoring his flirting. "What matters now is you catching that swindler. I'll send you the information about him on your burner phone. Oh, and don't forget my payment."

Astarion reaches his car, then pushes his free hand into his pocket to get his car keys.

"Alright, darling, I'll head back home and get into something more comfortable. You can expect your payment to be dropped off later tonight."

He hangs up the phone and gets into his car. Turning on his car, he chooses his playlist and listens as his favorite singer croons a rock ballad. At first, Astarion expects to drift away as he starts his car but his mind is too present and because of this, it flashes back to that woman dragged out of the courtroom. Karlach. His fingers tap against the steering wheel as the feeling of guilt spreads through him like a virus.

Astarion didn't consider himself a good man. Why would he when every sin he committed for another trapped him in a cage? Most times, Astarion could pretend it didn't exist as he galavanted around others with a careless attitude. It was easy for him. You see, Astarion didn't believe in heroes. He believed that the only way to attain freedom was to fight for it, but how funny, because no matter how much he fought, freedom was impossible for him to grasp. Karlach's anger was a familiar tune for Astarion. It was an anger bred in frustration and the knowledge that freedom is an allusion.

Even now, Astarion is trapped, and powerless but he'll regain some semblance of it once he sees the bewildered swindler's face after he fooled them. Yes, for a brief minute, Astarion will have the power. After all, power is everything.

He reaches into his glove department and pulls out a photo. In this photo, he sees himself with his powerless parents, who, in the end, had nothing. He will not become like them. Before he could cry, Astarion shoves the photo of his family back in his glove department and drives. He forces himself to focus on the fleeting moments of power he's experienced in the past.

By the time he gets home, his guilt has disappeared, and sole focus is on his next target. He goes to the area where he has his burner phone which is under his bed. Once grabbed, he sorts through the information received. His target is a white swindler, someone who swindles out the victim's money directly, usually with an apartment scheme or even a fake business startup. They were different from red swindlers who used the illusions of love and power of sex to seduce the money out of their targets pockets into theirs. Astarion himself is a special kind of swindler known as a black swindler. They usually lured other swindlers and swindled them rather than innocent people. A black swindler like Astarion is a master of allure and illusion.

In his closet, Astarion has various disguises, all with worthwhile backstories. When he wears his dark blond wig, he's a corrupt businessman named Alex who is hungry to spend his daddy's money. His black wig is named Adonis. Usually, he brings it out when he has to seduce someone and he always pairs it with a black outfit to match. His brown wig is named Paris and usually, he's a naive victim who'll fall for any scheme. The red wig is named Atlas, a worldly man who'll fall for anyone at first sight.

Today, Astarion decides to become Paris, looking for a cheap apartment. He takes out the wig head from the top shelf of his closet and places it on his dresser. Taking off his shirt, Astarion walks into his bathroom to take a quick shower. He turns on the shower and lets it steam, then jumps inside. He enjoys the hot water on his body. Lifting up his hand, he lets his fingers brush through his hair.

As he does so, his mind feels heavy once again. Not with guilt. It is heavy with a memory left forgotten. He sees himself, younger and full of fear. It had been his first week at Cazador's mansion. Cazador worked with the local group home to take in youths, usually boys, into his home. Astarion at first saw leaving the group home as a good thing because it'd make it easier for him to escape. At the group home, there were too many eyes watching, but in Cazador's mansion, there was only him and a handful of servants. That night, Astarion found his opportunity and thought he was free. He wasn't. Cazador, himself, had caught him and dragged Astarion by the arm back inside to a first-floor bathroom. He then turned the shower on to the hottest setting and soon the bathroom felt like it was boiling. Cazador then ordered Astarion to get in which Astarion refused but then he was forcibly placed on his knees and was shoved in. The water burned him and he remembered screaming, and the sound of Cazador's voice after.

"Out of all the boys, your screams are the sweetest," Cazador remarked, and it made Astarion's stomach twist in disgust.

When Astarion was let out, the reminders of the event lasted for a month. The pain of it, however, still remained.

There's nothing more Astarion hates than his memories. If it wasn't of Cazador, then it was of that group home overseer, Godey, and somehow the worse his memories weren't of the painful abuse he experienced. No, the worst of them, we're the reminders of that night. The night he lost everything. It was a night full of hope as the first snow touched Baldur's Gate, and Astarion was excited to play in it with his friends. He remembered his mom checking in on him and pressing a kiss on his forehead as he lay in bed. At twelve, on the cusp of teenhood, he always complained that he was too old for goodnight kisses but it never stopped her.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," he said, eyeing his sled.

His mother had given him a small smile in response as she got up from his bed.

"Good night, Astarion. I love you, my little star." A tear had trickled down her face as she moved away from him.

For a second, she was next to his window, her silver hair shining like the very stars she named Astarion after.

As she neared his door, Astarion felt a panic inside of him. One part of him was embarrassed at how she still called him her little star at twelve. The other was worried because his mother never cried. She was as brave as the heroes he read about in books and watched on tv. His young mind wracked for a reason and wondered if it had anything to do with the argument he heard his parents had earlier. His parents never fought but earlier that night, their screams had almost shaken the house.

"Wait!" He called out, a bit embarrassed. "Tomorrow, can you and dad, uh, hang out with me?"

"You want to hang out with your mom? I thought you said you were too grown up to hang out with us anymore."

"I know, but I guess we could have one Ancunin family snowball fight, right?" Astarion said, then, in a small voice he utters. "As long as the other kids don't know."

His mother chuckled, one that seemed more somber in hindsight, "Sure, Astarion. Now, go to sleep, my precious star."

Astarion had tried to sleep but he couldn't, so he had sneakily put on his clothes and slipped out to play outside in the snow. Those courses of actions were the only reason Astarion was alive right now because that very night his father had turned the gas oven on without lighting it and both of his parents had died. Sometimes Astarion would go over that night and wonder all the differences he could make. Everything seemed so normal, there was even a cake stored in the freezer for Astarion's thirteenth birthday that he never got to eat.

Of course, as he aged, some things became a bit clearer to him. The article announcing his parents' deaths mentioned the debt his dad accumulated and how they were on the verge of losing their house. Searching his memories, Astarion remembered his father mentioning an old friend who was helping him invest to his mother. Whoever that friend was, they had stolen all of Astarion's parents money and left them penniless. After combining those pieces together, Astarion decided to take down other swindlers, hoping to one day come across his father's friend who had taken everything from him. So far, Astarion hasn't stumbled into anything connected to his family but at least he's prevented the outcome he's experienced for others.

Astarion turns off the shower, more aware of his surroundings. His pale skin is flushed from the heat and his breathing is heavy and tangled. Slow breaths ease him and he steps out of the shower. Grabbing a towel, he dries himself and then ties it around his waist. Before he steps out of the bathroom, he looks in the mirror.

A beautiful appearance looks back at him and he wants the mirror to break because all he sees in his reflection is a broken man. He looks away and focuses on what needs to be done. After getting dressed, he puts on his signature scent, which he crafted himself. It's a mix of bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy that boosts Astarion's intoxicating allure. He heads over to his dresser and puts on the Paris wig. He checks his appearance in a small mirror on his nightside table. Almost perfect, he thinks, but something feels missing. Astarion searches through his drawers until he finds just what he's looking for. His red eye contacts add an unnatural aura of mystery to him.

Sometimes, when Astarion treks out into the night, he pretends he's a vampire thirsting for blood instead of a man hungry for vengeance. It was silly, of course, but Astarion always sold fantasy to those wanting him. One would be surprised at how many targets begged for him to bite them as they got lost in his unnatural eye color. He never did, of course, but that appealed to them more for some reason. They would always lustfully place a finger on his chest, tracing a straight line as they spoke of next time. There was never a next time because Astarion always unraveled their schemes by their next encounter, leaving them to flee into hiding or in a very uncomfortable cell.

Checking his appearance again, Astarion is satisfied by what he sees. He leaves his apartment, heading into the hallway, where he's face-to-face with his neighbor's door that sits across the hall. The man who lives there is named Wyll, the son of the governor of Baldur's Gate. From what Astarion has learned about him, Wyll's considered a hero and he even looks like the Prince Charming one would fantasize about marrying. He's never home, a convenience for Astarion because if someone with that much power got a whiff of what he was doing, well, it'd be his undoing. Astarion didn't believe in heroes but those who believed they were one were always the absolute worst. Even more awful, we're the ones who followed along with their strict morals to rescue any living creature who appeared in distress. Astarion had been in distress for most of his life and no one, not even the gods, had rescued him. He had managed to get where he was with his own pure wit and need to survive. Yes, this very need to survive drives him every single day, for if he didn't have it, he'd wither away.

Power.

He needs power.

Astarion feels weak as he's once again reminded of his past. He feels weak as he moves forward and heads to the elevator. Once inside, he lets the thrill of power overtake him as he envisions the look on the white swindler's face once he realizes he's been swindled. Leaving the building, Astarion smiles as he heads to his car to drive off to claim his power.