Warning, there is sexual assault in this chapter! It's not long, but just be aware!
It must be days by the time Astarion is returned to his cell. Days of nothing but digging at rough soil and emptying his mind of everything else. Days of letting his anger build until he finally can meet the target.
Gale hasn't moved much since Astarion last saw him. The bastard is still tied up and silenced, and he stares ahead at the brick wall. His chest glows brightly, his supposed orb flaring up. But everything else, the bruises and mud, are the same.
They don't tie Astarion again. They simply close the metal door and lock it behind them.
Good. He'll want his hands for this.
In only a few steps, Astarion punches Gale straight in the jaw with his dirty, bloody hand. He doesn't even feel it in his numb fingers. So, he throws another, knocking the wizard onto his side with a painful-looking cry. Astarion climbs over him, his hands shaking as he grips the purple robe and shakes him.
"This is your fault!" Astarion's voice has gone rough, the sounds almost foreign as he speaks. "This is all your fault! You brought us down here! You knocked us off the bloody cliff! You useless piece of shit!"
He lets go and Gale falls helplessly. The fucker can't even shout as he's attacked. How pathetic. How weak.
"I'll kill you!" He screams, his voice cracking on each syllable. "I'll- I'll rip your head off! I'll tear you apart, limb from-" Astarion stops. Gale is breathing hard, judging from the way his chest heaves. The purple light flashes, then dims. Flashes and dims. It's hungry, Astarion realizes. Hungry for power. For magic.
Well, Astarion is hungry too, and only one of them can get what they want.
"You will regret this. I'll make you wish you weren't born." Astarion growls, his voice low as he crawls closer. His eyes lock on that lovely neck, the delicate skin just asking to be broken. His teeth ache for it, the taste of rich blood all he can think of now. Forget anger, forget promises of murder, Astarion wants to drink.
With both hands pinning the human to the floor, Astarion bites on whatever exposed neck he can get to. His teeth sink through so easily, his jaw latching as the blood finally pools out of the wounds. He can feel Gale try to move, the muscles jumping against Astarion's teeth. He ignores it all as he starts to suck it into his mouth, the rich flavor flooding onto his tongue and-
Astarion pulls away with a gag. He spits, but the acidic burn of his tongue doesn't go away. He stands, then, trying to rid himself of the awful taste. Another gag, then Astarion turns back to Gale, who's staring right back in silent shock. It's as if he's just remembered exactly what Astarion is.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Astarion snaps, spitting again. It doesn't help the lingering taste.
The damned wizard can't even sit up as he lays there, dripping from the neck and panting hard. Gale stares at him, then his eyes roll as his chest glows brighter.
It seems neither of them can have what they want, then.
"You...You deserve this." Astarion hisses. He backs into the far corner of their cell, his eyes glaring daggers at the struggling human. "You deserve to feel pain after what you did to me." The shadows overtake him as he finally sits. Gale writhes and struggles, his arms pulling desperately at his bindings. There's no use. He's not strong enough to break them- no one from their party could. He'll simply rub his skin raw, then suffering further.
Good.
He still aches to lap up the remaining blood. It's there, wasted on the filthy ground, but he knows he can't. A forbidden meal, one that smells so rich and sweet but tastes of bile and poison.
Truly, this must be Hell.
For hours, Astarion watches him. He can't fall into trance, not with someone else free to attack him and now with the motivation to do so. He may be the one untied, but Astarion knows that's an advantage he has to hold carefully.
Gale goes between panting hard, the glow of his chest growing dangerously bright, then writhing in attempts to do...something. It looks as if he's trying to break his wrists off, but if he is, the wizard is doing a piss poor job at it. The struggle would be entertaining if Astarion weren't forced to endure much worse once he's taken for his labor again. His stomach already fills with dread at the thought. More hours of endless digging and his body hasn't nearly recovered yet.
Just when Astarion is about to give into a short, light trance, Gale stops his movements again. Shakily, he rolls onto his front and climbs up to his knees. This is a new position and it immediately sets Astarion on alert. The vampire gathers his feet under him, just in case he has to spring up. He won't let such a pathetic human get the catch on him.
But Gale doesn't move any closer. Instead, he looks at Astarion in desperation. His eyes are wide and terrified as he mouths his words slowly. 'Help me,' he repeats over and over until Astarion frowns.
"Why should I help you?" He snarls. "Why in the hells should I offer you anything but death's cold touch!"
The threat is taken seriously, that much Astarion can tell through the way Gale cowers slightly, but he doesn't stop. The wizard speaks again, 'Help me! Help me, Astarion!'
He could laugh. The wizard is begging him now?
'Magic! Please, I need magic!'
Just as he suspected. Magic is required to keep that orb of his docile, but unfortunately for him, Astarion has passed the point of caring. They could all blow up and nothing would change. Gale has taken Astarion's chance at freedom, so why not take the drow with him? No one would miss them, surely.
But the wizard doesn't let up. He shifts around to where he's facing away from Astarion. Exposing one's back to a preditor is a poor call and Astarion nearly takes advantage of it when he sees the pair of cuffs wrapped around Gale's wrists. It's not rope as he had originally assumed. These are made of solid metal, each tightly holding the human's hands behind his back. The skin around them is rubbed raw and bloody in some areas.
It's not the cuffs themselves that catches Astarion's eye, however. No, what gets him is the red light coming from the chain between them. It glows so faintly he can barely see it while looking directly at them, but it's still there. A spell, no doubt. Magic, then. A magical item for Gale to consume and sate the orb before it detonates in, quite possibly, less than an hour, judging from how Gale hisses and whimpers soundlessly.
So, he wants Astarion to get those cuffs to his chest. Without lockpicking tools, it's not the easiest feat, but he has a few ideas. Some that could be very satisfying for the vampire, in the end.
But the question still stands. "Why would I help you?"
Gale turns back to him. 'I can't stop it! Please!' More begging, but no clear answers.
When Astarion doesn't move, doesn't let up to the pathetic display, Gale's eyes close. He breathes, then looks up again, something dangerous in those eyes of his. The desperation is still there, but there's an iron determination as well. He refuses to back down without a fight.
Good. It'll make killing him all the sweeter.
'I can get us out. Give me magic and you are free.'
"Ha!" Astarion scoffs. "Quite the promise to make." But even as he sneers and glares, something in his chest dares to...hope. Gale is a wizard and if he somehow formulated a plan in his time struggling, then maybe...maybe he's of better use alive. For now.
The hatred boils and screams for him to spill blood, but Astarion has always been better at keeping control of himself. He needed to if he wanted to survive Cazador.
"Fine, I'll bite. I get you those cuffs and you set me free. Is that our deal?" Gale nods quickly. "And...how about we sweeten the deal, hm? You also get me blood to feed on. And none of those senseless beasts. I want a thinking creature." He can already taste it, the wonderful tang of blood over his tongue. It'll be so, so sweet.
When Gale nods again, Astarion stands. He moves slowly, drawing out the pain as long as he can without risking their lives. But once he's knelt in front of the sore wrists, he's quick to decide on how he'll do this.
"Brace yourself," Astarion mutters, caring less about preparing him for the pain and more to avoid blowing them to bits. Then, he grips the edge of one human hand, just around the thumb, and snaps it inward. Gale jolts but there's little he can do while Astarion pulls one cuff over, officially freeing his hands from each other.
Impressively, Gale doesn't linger on his pain for long. He immediately presses the cuff to his chest and the orb shines as it takes in the magic held within. The wizard's eyes glow purple and his mouth is held open in a silent scream as it courses all around him.
Once the deed is done, Gale falls forward, cradling the broken thumb. This time, his tearless sobs can be heard and the sound is surprisingly delightful.
So, that must've been what kept him silent.
"Gods...By Mystra's light, that hurts!"
Astarion's smile falls. As fun as it was to break his hand, he certainly didn't miss the sound of Gale's voice.
Before the wizard can fully recover, Astarion is wrapping his lithe fingers around that broad, still dripping, neck. He squeezes the voice from Gale as he forces them to make eye contact. Fear returns in full force and oh, is it delicious. Astarion can't help the devilish smile that curls onto his lips. "Now, now. We have a deal, don't we? So tell me, what's your brilliant plan?" His hand lets up enough to allow airflow.
Gale gasps and sputters before he can find himself. "I-I can cast...Disguise Self! If I c-can remember it!"
That...would work. And it isn't altogether a horrible plan either.
"So, let me get this straight," He squeezes his hand again, just to avoid hearing more of the wizard's whimpering. "You intend to disguise us a drow, then we prance out of here as if nothing happened? I can't say I dislike it. And I assume we would simply wait until the drow return to escape? Or do you have plans to open that door?"
Gale winces, his voice hoarse when Astarion lets him speak again. He's starting to really enjoy this little game. "There's a slight...complication. I can only cast it upon myself and for the duration of an hour-"
"What?!"
"-But I could use it to our advantage! Perhaps they have an armory or a set of uniforms!"
"No! You're not leaving this cell without me!"
"Asar-"
Gale's hand feebly pulls at Astarion's wrist as he chokes. "No, you listen first! I'm leaving this place no matter what it costs! If you don't get me out, then I'll kill you now and use your corpse as a bloody shield! Am I understood?!" Gale tries again, to escape. "Am I understood?!"
Gale manages to wrench himself out of the hold. He gasps and coughs, his good hand reaching up to rub at the bruises that will most definitely begin to form. Astarion lets him grovel, his interest lost.
"Be warned." He growls, making his way back to his corner again. There certainly won't be any time for a trance now. "If you so much as think of leaving me, I'll make sure you die slowly."
The wizard doesn't respond, but he doesn't have to. The threat is meant and they both know it.
Now, Astarion just has to find a way to disguise himself.
Astarion goes back after his four hours of rest. He barely gets any time in to close his eyes, which leaves him just as exhausted as the first time he came in.
His mind shuts off as he works alongside the rest of the lifeless bodies. Dirt and clay and mud, then mud and clay. Over and over with nothing in between. The occasional rock will scratch the skin from his fingers, but it's discarded with the rest. Each time, Astarion dreams of cutting Gale's stomach down the side and watching his life drain out.
A tap on his shoulder makes Astarion jolt. He turns, his ears picking up any sound at all, when he sees-
It's another elf. She looks at him with life, a burning intent in her eyes. It shocks Astarion enough to make him stop digging, which earns him a shock at his ankle, where they've attached a rune to keep them in line. He shakes it off, then goes back. She will go ignored-
Again, she taps at him. This time, however, she goes further than just tapping. She slides her hand over his hip and down his outer thigh. Astarion jumps away, his surprise bleeding quickly into anger. But before he can let out a word, her hand flies away and back to her work.
Normally, he would still shout, but he sees another spawn in her. Cazador is watching and he can't fall out of line, lest he be punished. So, Astarion swallows his disgust and continues his work. If she tries again, however, he can't promise he won't cut her open.
A buzzer sounds off and half of the room files into line. Astarion's side remains digging. He scowls at each of them, hating how he wishes he could be allowed a simple moment to rest. He almost regrets not getting a proper meal out of the wizard, but there's no helping it now. He'll have to wait his turn-
Again, he feels a touch on his leg. This time, Astarion grabs her wrist and stops it shy of his hip. She looks at him with the same expression, the silence near deafening. Then, she slips her hand into his and something solid drops into his palm.
She turns away and continues to dig. Astarion watches her for a moment, then looks into his hand.
It's a round item, cased with what feels like metal. It's covered in dirt and blood, but that's no surprise from down here.
Before Astarion can get another shock in the ankle, he pockets the item and continues his work. Whatever it is, he'll find out later. For now, he has to focus on staying in line. File in, stay silent, and nothing will happen.
Astarion, once again, turns his mind off.
He doesn't want to, but Astarion eventually has to go into trance. It's been too long since he's last rested and the strain of staying up so long has started to send shivers up and down his spine. He feels feverish, like an illness has taken him, but he knows that can't be the case. It's his exhaustion getting the better of him.
So, Astarion lies on his back and closes his eyes. He finally shuts his mind off enough to simply exist, all sounds and smells mixing together into nothingness. His body relaxes slowly, each muscle losing its tension. His chest rises and falls like the beat of a song, over and over at a slow pace. Everything feels clear.
He doesn't dream, thanks to his elvish traits, but he does experience something similar. At least, it is in Astarion's mind. He thinks of the past, a slideshow of memories. Usually, his mind will fill with the horrors done to him by Cazador or what he did to the victims he lured in for his master. On the very slight occasion, he'll see the first moments of his time as a vampire spawn, reliving his constant fear.
Tonight, he's given a rare mercy. Astarion sees his time with Tav, slaying Goblin after Goblin. It felt like being alive. He could kill so easily without a care in the world for what others may think or say. The secret was already out, of course. At least, it was for Tav. He had told her about his nature the night before and to his surprise, she welcomed him with only a slight hesitance. He could blame it on the fact she's not native to Faerûn, but it's more likely that she sees his bloodthirsty habits in herself. After all, she is a githyanki.
Lae'zel certainly didn't have any reservations about his fighting style, so to speak.
Of course, none of it matters if they never get out of-
Something latches onto Astarion's wrist, but before he can so much as open his eyes, someone is climbing on top of him. Astarion jerks awake in time to see Gale cuff his hands together, the metal bands locking with a zipping click. Then, warm hands press Astarion's shoulders firmly to the floor.
There's anger in Gale's eyes. Anger and fear.
"Get off of me!" Astarion hisses. He tries to buck the human off but his strength is all but spent. Instead, he attempts to squirm his way out of the hold, to no avail. "Get off now! Or I'll-"
"You'll what?" Gale seethes from atop him. In the dim light, it's near impossible to see the details of the man's face. All Astarion can catch is the twist of his lips and the furrow of his brow. "You'll bite me? Spill my blood and leave me to die, like you so threatened?"
Astarion tries to do just that, but he's unable to reach the hand on his shoulder. He's completely trapped.
"You know," Gale starts, his voice hoarse and breathy, "I once hoped to stand up for you. You can't help what you are, after all. No more than the moon can stop itself from setting every dawn. It's just the byproduct of what you were made to me."
Now, an underlying layer of contempt stains his tone. "But I see exactly what you are now. You're a mindless rodent that wants nothing but to manipulate for your own gain! You're a vampire, and that's what you will always be!"
"I'll kill you!" Astarion kicks at the floor in desperation. All attempts to get free are pointless, but he tries all the same. "I'll kill you for this!"
The hand on his left shoulder leaves and instead wraps itself around his mouth, clamping his jaw shut. He tries to bite, but Gale's grip is too tight. "You have no idea what's happening, do you?! This entire scheme is far bigger than any of you understand! But I know! Ooooh, by the gods do I know! You can't possibly dream of the weight that's been placed upon my shoulders but I bear it alone because I must! I serve because I must! But you- you could never think beyond yourself, Astarion! You could never- and I hate you for it! I hate you with every fiber of my being!"
They stare at each other. Astarion watches those deep brown eyes pour every ounce of hatred he feels directly into Astarion's soul. They both breathe quickly, in sharp heaves that hiss through their teeth.
But then, Gale's eyes soften. The burning inside of him simmers and slowly, ever so slowly, he lets go of Astarion's shoulders. The man climbs off of him and stumbles to his knees less than a foot away. His eyes shine as they keep eye contact.
"I...This isn't me." Gale breathes. "This isn't who I am. I-I'm not...gods, what have I become?" He shakes upon his new revelation.
Astarion stays frozen, like the prey he's been made to be. His hands are still cuffed together and now, there is no hope of getting any proper rest. Not after that.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Astarion, I'm-" Gale swallows. His eyes catch on the cuffs, then he surges forward. "Allow me to-" He stops as something clatters to the side.
Held in Gale's fingers is the item the elf gave him. Astarion thinks of snapping at him to drop it, but he resists. The wizard is unstable. Even without the orb, pressure may prove dangerous. So, Astarion lets him fiddle with it, eventually popping it open to peer inside. He stares for a moment, then those dark eyes meet Astarion's again.
"You...Where did you..." He looks between them again. A smile slowly spreads across his distraught features. "This is exactly what we need. This- ha! Astarion!"
Astarion jumps when Gale leans down to show him. The round item is split into two; the top half holds a mirror, while the other holds a row of pigmented tiles. Makeup, Astarion realizes. It's a makeup set.
The darkest color, a deep purple-grey, has been used the most out of all of them.
"Astarion, this is perfect! If I cast Disguise Self and you paint yourself with this, then we'll pass completely as drow! We can simply walk out as if we were meant to be here this entire time! I...Mystra has blessed us this day. We're getting out."
There must be a catch to this. A pallet of makeup just handed off to him without fuss? And by another slave no less? Astarion has long learned that if something sounds too good to be true, then it likely is. It could be poisoned or a setup planned by the drow themselves. Something besides dumb luck or the help of any divine being, no matter the connections they may have thanks to Gale.
But even so, it's his only chance at survival. Astarion has to take it.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Let me-" Astarion jumps as Gale reaches for him, only to relax when a spell is casted to release the cuffs.
It's a stupid mistake. One Astarion won't let him get away with.
He sits up within the second and in the next, Astarion has Gale backed into the wall. There is no weapon, but the way he hunches his body over the other man's must be enough for now. "You-" Astarion spits, only to be interrupted.
"You cannot threaten me anymore, Astarion." Gale's moment of relief is gone. "We're on equal footing now. Neither of us wants to stay here, nor can we escape on our own. For the time being, we have to prioritize our survival over all else." He scoffs. "Believe me, I want to be rid of you as badly as you do me, but I won't risk my own life for it."
Astarion chews at his cheek. His fingers twitch with the urge to kill and maim.
"...Astarion?"
It will have to wait.
"Fuck!" Astarion backs away. His chest squeezes and his stomach still hungers, but he's no fool. He can do what it takes to survive, even if it means not killing Gale. "Fine! Fine. But as soon as we're free of these drow, you better pray Tav finds you before I do."
Gale, the damned bastard, offers up his good hand. "Truce?" To his credit, he looks at Astarion with apprehension.
Astarion takes it in a perhaps too-firm grip. "Truce. Now, let's get the fuck out of here, shall we?"