~O~
The forest around him is dark, cold, and unwelcoming, with a thick fog that clings to every tree, every leaf, wrapping him in a blanket of foreboding. Astarion moves through this fog, each step accompanied by a growing sense of dread bubbling up from his core. "Hello? Anyone there?" he calls out, his voice barely piercing the oppressive silence.
The response sends shivers down his spine; Cazador's voice, clear and unmistakable, begins to echo around him, reciting the draconian rules that once governed Astarion's existence. Rooted to the spot, Astarion's first instinct is to hide, to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. He crouches low, moving stealthily, an attempt to escape the invisible chains of his past.
"Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed."
With each rule recited, Astarion's desperation mounts until he can bear it no longer.
"No. Please. Not again!" he pleads, his voice a mix of fear and pleading.
"Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine."
But then, something shifts within Astarion. Rage bubbles to the surface, momentarily pushing aside his fear. "Not anymore. I'm free now," he asserts, his voice a low growl, his teeth gritted against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.
Cazador appears, stepping through a bright portal.
His master's laughter, cruel and mocking, does nothing to quell Astarion's resolve. He stands his ground, even as his anxiety threatens to engulf him.
The atmosphere shifts with the sudden sound of twigs snapping and leaves rustling. Both Astarion and Cazador turn their attention to the source—a large black wolf, its presence imposing, yet offering an unspoken solidarity to Astarion. The wolf sits, towering beside the vampire spawn, its gaze locked on Cazador with a dangerous intensity.
A flicker of fear crosses Cazador's features, quickly masked by a twisted curiosity. Yet, his smirk belies the tension of the moment. "Tell yourself what you must, boy. I will see you again soon," he taunts, stepping back through the portal, his figure fading from the dream forest.
Astarion turns to the wolf, noting the intensity of its stare. He tries to think of something to say, but words fail him, so he nods instead. The wolf returns the gesture, then pads off into the mist, leaving Astarion alone with his thoughts.
The silence seems deafening, even more so than before, and Astarion wonders if it was all just a trick of his mind. He thinks he wakes and looks around, trying to gain his bearings, and finds that the fog has lifted slightly, allowing him to see farther. A few feet ahead, he sees a dimly lit path leading away from the forest. He hesitates but decides to follow it. The path winds through the trees, curving left and right, until it opens up to a clearing filled with wildflowers. The air is sweet with their scent, and Astarion breathes deeply, savoring their fragrance.
He moves cautiously, taking in his surroundings, and notices a figure sitting in the distance. As he approaches, he realizes it's Arabella, her eyes closed, seemingly at peace. She looks beautiful, he thinks, her face soft, her body relaxed. He wants to reach out and touch her, to run his fingers along her skin, but he holds himself back, not wanting to disturb her.
"Bella?" he calls softly.
She opens her eyes, smiling up at him. "Astarion," she replies, her voice a melodic lilt. "What are you doing here?"
"I... I don't know," he admits.
She rises to her feet and walks towards him, taking his hands in hers. "You're dreaming," she says matter-of-factly. "It's a beautiful place, isn't it?"
He nods, gazing at her in wonder. "It is."
She smiles again, her eyes shining with amusement. "Do you want to stay here? Or would you like to wake up?"
"Stay here, please."
She chuckles, releasing one of his hands to gently stroke his cheek. "Of course. I'll always be with you, Astarion. In your dreams, and in life. You don't have to be afraid anymore."
His heart swells at her words, and even though something feels off, he leans into her touch, savoring the warmth of her skin. "Promise?" he whispers, brokenly, pleadingly.
She nods, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "Promise."
She kisses him, gently at first, slowly becoming more wild in her touch. She bites his lip, drawing blood. Her hand tangles in his hair, holding him close, and she moans against his mouth, pressing her body against his. He groans in response, deepening the kiss, tasting her desire on his tongue.
They pull apart, panting. She rests her forehead against his, her eyes dark with lust and something else. Something sinister.
"I'm going to kill everyone you hold dear and save your precious little Arabella for last." She laughs, her voice cracking eerily.
Astarion pulls away from her in horror. "Who are you?"
The woman's face slowly changes, and with a tilt of her head, the features he had grown to admire in Arabella slowly morph into pasty skin tinged with dark stains. Her eyes are white, her long red hair braided in a thick plait that passes her waist. She wears what looked like bones, crimson red, molded to fit her body.
She smiles darkly, baring her stained teeth in a vicious grin. "I'll see you again soon, my sweet."
Astarion's heart raced as his eyes flew open, a mix of adrenaline and confusion fueling his movements. With practiced ease, his hand found the grip of his dagger, unsheathing it as he leaped to his feet and positioning himself in front of Arabella's tent protectively. The flap of the tent opened with a whisper under his urgent push, but the sight that greeted him wasn't one of danger; it was far worse. The empty space where he expected to find the drow sent a sharp wave of fear through him, a feeling so intense it momentarily rooted him to the spot.
Forcing himself to breathe, to think clearly amid the flood of panic, Astarion stepped out into the cool night air. The dream had felt so real, a nightmare that left him shaken. His gaze drifted to Solas' tent, drawn by a string of emotions he struggled to name. Without a moment's hesitation, he peeled back the tent flap, his heart sinking at the sight before him. Arabella and Solas, together, their intimacy suddenly a visible threat to the connection he feared he was losing. A surge of hurt and jealousy washed over him, so powerful it threatened to engulf him. Turning away, he retreated, the image seared into his memory.
Back in his tent, the shadows seemed to mock him with whispers of what he'd seen. Sleep was an elusive specter, fleeing further with each passing second. His thoughts were a tumultuous sea, crashing against the shores of his mind with relentless force. The realization that he cared for Arabella more deeply than he had intended was a bitter pill to swallow. Their initial intimate encounter was unexpected, although he certainly welcomed the rush of adrenaline she instilled in him with her wild streak and thirst for spilling blood. Since then, he had to admit he tried to employ a strategy to keep her close, a means to an end for survival. Yet, as the nights had passed, his motives had tangled with genuine affection, a sensation as foreign to him as the concept of daylight before the tadpole.
The complexity of his feelings left him adrift in uncharted waters. Could it be love? The question was a whisper in the dark, a notion so alien to his nature. Love was not a luxury afforded to his kind, yet Arabella's laughter, her fierce spirit, and the moments they shared had carved a niche in his heart he didn't know existed. The jealousy that gnawed at him only showed him the depth of his regard for her—a realization that both terrified and intrigued him.
Needing to escape the prison of his thoughts, Astarion vanished into the woods, seeking solace in the hunt. The chase offered a distraction, a way to focus his mind on something primal and straightforward. The boar was a poor substitute for the turmoil inside him, but as its lifeblood flowed, a momentary sense of peace found him. Yet, as he discarded the lifeless body, the silence of the night returned to him the echoes of his confusion and longing, leaving him to wonder about the strange, compelling path his heart was leading him on.
"Shit," he grumbled— alone and stifling his fear. Again.
~O~
Arabella stirred from her sleep slowly and found herself staring into Solas' warm gaze. He stroked her cheek gently, his eyes filled with tenderness. She smiled at him, leaning into his touch.
"Good morning," she murmured softly.
"Morning," he replied, his voice low and husky.
"How do you manage to make even that sound so alluring?" she asked, snickering against his neck.
He grinned, before pressing her back and rolling on top of her. He brushed his lips against hers, his tongue tracing the bow of her lips before slipping into her mouth. She moaned into their kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him in closer. Locking her ankles around the backs of his thighs, she leveraged her weight against his, rolling them over onto his back.
Solas chuckled, his gray eyes sparkling. "Someone has had practice," he murmured.
She smiled at him, her teeth nibbling her lower lip as she rocked her hips against him. "I've had a lot of time to learn what I like," she said softly.
He growled low in his chest, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "It is a good thing I am a fast learner, then," he replied with a hoarse voice.
"Indeed," she agreed, lifting herself up slightly to take his hardened state into her hand.
She teased herself with the tip, her eyes locked on his as she lowered herself onto him, inch by inch. They both moaned as she fully enveloped him inside her warm heat.
"Fenedhis!" he hissed, his fingers digging into her soft skin.
He pulled her down toward him, kissing her hungrily as she began to ride him. Their tongues tangled together as they devoured each other, their passion quickly growing out of control. Solas gripped her hips tightly, guiding her movements. He lifted his knees behind her, his feet planted firmly on the bedroll. His eyes flashed dangerously as he held her in place, thrusting into her forcefully.
"Fuck," she whimpered, her head thrown back in ecstasy. "Don't stop," she begged, her nails raking across his chest. He growled as she scraped against his nipple, sending shivers of pleasure through them both. Her hips rocked against his rapaciously, grinding her clit against him. She felt her orgasm building within her, but she fought against it, not wanting the moment to end so soon.
Arabella gasped as he rolled them over, pinning her beneath him. He hovered above her, his gaze smoldering. "I am far from finished with you," he purred, his voice thick with desire.
She whimpered as he pushed himself back inside of her, filling her completely. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he thrust into her with a slowly building rhythm. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, their moans of pleasure filling the small space.
Solas was on the edge of losing control, but he wanted to see her come undone first. He reached between their bodies, and she cried out as he stroked her sensitive bud, her climax building rapidly.
She cried out his name as she lost all semblance of control, the waves of her orgasm pulling her under with no resistance.
He stifled a roar as he emptied himself inside of her, his body shuddering against hers. He collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms as they both struggled to catch their breath.
Arabella smiled softly as she looked at him, her eyes shining contentedly. She hummed against his lips, kissing him gently.
He grinned, nuzzling her neck. "I could get used to waking up like this."
She blushed, snuggling closer to him. "So could I," she said, suddenly feeling shy.
~O~
Solas stepped out of his tent, leaving Arabella still inside. He wandered toward the camp's communal area, a small, contented smile playing on his lips as he thought of her. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Shadowheart slumped against a tree trunk, clearly suffering from the night before, while Wyll played the part of the concerned suitor to perfection. Solas couldn't conceal his amusement as he watched, shaking his head at the unmistakable dance of courtship unfolding before him.
As he approached the area where breakfast was being prepared, he felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Scanning the camp, his eyes eventually met Astarion's intense gaze. The vampire's expression was a complex blend of scrutiny and distaste, a stark contrast to the jovial atmosphere of the camp.
Astarion rose gracefully, his movements deliberate as he made his way towards Solas. "Might I steal a moment of your precious time?" he inquired, his voice laced with a sarcasm that didn't quite mask the tension beneath.
Solas, intrigued, nodded and followed Astarion to a secluded spot by one of the camp's towering trees, far enough from prying ears.
Astarion turned, arms folded, the picture of seriousness. "Let's just get a few things out of the way, shall we?" he began, his tone carrying a gravitas that commanded attention. "And let me be upfront—I couldn't care less about your lofty opinions of me. Your views on my character, your speculations on my intentions, or your musings on my sordid past are of no interest."
He paused, allowing his words to sink in, his piercing gaze locked with Solas'. "But, let's get one thing straight," he continued, the edge in his voice sharp enough to cut. "If you cause Arabella any harm, know this—I will end you," he said with a sly grin, yet his tone left no doubt as to his seriousness.
Solas was taken aback and raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Harming her is the last thing on my mind," he responded, the suddenness of the threat leaving him momentarily off-balance.
"Good," Astarion said, his expression hardening.
Solas studied the pale elf, taking in his unusual serious demeanor. However, he knew Astarion was dangerous, and had no doubt that the vampire would at least attempt to carry out his threat. "You have nothing to worry about," he assured him.
"What is this really about, Astarion?" Solas added after a moment of tense silence.
Astarion stared at him as if trying to decide whether or not he could trust the mage. He sighed dramatically, shaking his head lightly. "I… had a dream." He straightened, his ruby eyes shining under the tree's shadow. "I was approached by my old master."
Solas stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "And?"
Astarion pursed his lips, his jaw clenching. "He told me that he'll see me again soon," he said quietly.
Solas frowned. "Did he say anything else?"
Astarion shook his head, his expression grim. "You would know, wouldn't you? You were there."
Solas looked at him with an odd expression. "Yes, I suppose I was," he muttered after a moment's deliberation.
"Why did you follow me there?" Astarion asked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Solas frowned, his mind working quickly. "I had a feeling you were in trouble. I felt... connected to you."
"Connected?" Astarion looked at him with a skeptical wariness, before humming softly, as though mildly approving. "Fine, I'll buy that," he said with a half-smile. Astarion watched the mage with a strange, yet curious expression, his eyes flashing briefly. "Who... or what are you, Solas?"
Solas felt himself stiffen against his will. He did not feel prepared to have this conversation with the vampire. Not yet. "What do you mean?" He asked casually.
Astarion scowled, his eyes flashing once again. "Don't play games with me," he said sharply. "I know you're not just some vagrant elf from the forest. I know you're hiding something."
Solas took a deep breath, his expression serious. "Very well," he said slowly. "I am not what I appear to be."
"So, what are you?" Astarion demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
"I am not sure I know how to answer that," Solas admitted, his lips set in a grim line, his previous good mood souring by the minute. He did not appreciate being interrogated by the rogue, any more than he liked the idea of having to explain himself.
"Try," Astarion said wryly.
Solas sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Astarion, it is no secret that I am a foreigner in the truest sense of the word. Why turn this into something it does not need to be? Simply know that I am your ally. And so long as Arabella comes to no harm by your hand, that will not change."
"Of course." Astarion scoffed, appraising the mage with a long and hard stare. "Well, I suppose we're all entitled to our little secrets," he said, finally.
Solas gave him a nod and arched an eyebrow, his gaze steady. "Your master. He is a sorcerer?"
Astarion visibly tensed. "Cazador is an evil bastard," he said bitingly, his lips pulled back in a sneer.
"I have no doubt that he is," Solas said sympathetically. His expression was thoughtful for a moment, before meeting Astarion's gaze. "And the list? What was he referring to?"
"Rules," the vampire growled.
"Rules?" Solas repeated, his brows furrowing. "What kind of rules?"
Astarion sighed and rolled his eyes. "The rules I had to follow as his slave," he explained, his voice heavy with anger and resentment.
"How did he control you?" he asked quietly, not wanting to push Astarion, but feeling it important enough to ask.
Astarion looked away, his jaw clenched. "Control me? He did more than that. He made me who I am," he said after a moment. "He is the reason I am like this," he opened his arms out wide, gesturing to himself.
"I see," Solas said. He studied him for a moment before nodding, a decision reached within his mind and heart. "Astarion, I want you to know that should he come for you, you will not be alone."
"Oh, he'll come. He won't stop coming for me," Astarion replied derisively. Turning his gaze toward Solas, he gave him a measured look before nodding curtly. "Thank you," he murmured. "But, why would you help me?"
Solas regarded him with a sad smile. "Because you need it, and I am able," he replied.
"I don't need your pity," Astarion snapped, his usual charm absent from his features.
"This is not pity," Solas said firmly. "We fight together, we fight for one another, or the battle is already lost." A flicker of sorrow passed over his gaze, memories taunting him like shadows in the night. "Trust me, I know all too well what happens when we are divided."
Astarion looked away, his jaw clenched. "Fine," he muttered, his expression unreadable. "Then let us agree to watch each other's backs." He met Solas' gaze, his usual grin gracing his lips. "I hope you can keep up, dear boy."
Solas' brow raised in surprise. He must be at least a half century older than the pale elf, yet... 'dear boy'. "I think I can manage," Solas replied dryly, although the traces of a smirk were clear.
~O~
Arabella laced up her boots, relishing the sound of the leather as it creaked—a sound that signified readiness and the onset of a new journey on their way to freeing themselves from their parasites, and stopping the cult of the Absolute. Wrapped in her thoughts, she was jolted slightly when Astarion entered the tent.
He surveyed the interior with an air of subtle disapproval. His gaze lingered on the disarray of clothing and furs, his eyes narrowing slightly—not just at the disorder, but with an unmistakable hint of jealousy, knowing that Arabella and Solas had shared more than just stories the night before.
"Did you enjoy yourself, my dear?" he queried, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Yet, despite the teasing nature of his voice, his eyes held a shadow of sadness that contradicted his light-hearted demeanor.
She returned the smile, albeit more bashfully, silently wishing he wasn't harboring any hard feelings about her spending the night with Solas. That encounter had been brewing for a while, fueled by an attraction to Solas that she couldn't quite explain—an attraction that sent shivers down her spine. It was more than just physical desire; the mere thought of the mage's touch, of his body against hers, sparked an electrifying excitement within her. However, as she stood there under the scrutinizing gaze of the vampire spawn, awaiting her response, she realized her connections ran deep with both of them. Despite the magic and mystery surrounding the foreign mage, she felt an undeniable bond with Astarion, a tie that was just as compelling and intricate.
"I'm sorry I didn't come back to the party. Did you finish that vile bottle of wine on your own, or…" Arabella trailed off with a small smile, hoping her apology didn't go unnoticed.
"Oh, I found another vintage. And it's fine. I don't own you, my dear." Astarion waved off her concern, seemingly dismissing her apology, as well. He rested his hands on hips and looked at her with a curious gaze. "I do need your help with something, however."
He explained his dream from the night before, and the fear in his voice when he spoke of Cazador made her blood boil. That bastard was the reason Astarion was like this. He was the reason for all of it. And now he was threatening to find and presumably kill him.
"Wait," she said. "So does this mean Cazador has already found you?"
He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders drooping as if carrying the weight of the world. With a weary hand, he massaged the bridge of his nose. Then, straightening up as if shaking off his burden, he fixed his gaze on her. A half-smile played on his lips, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Yes, he found me, in a manner of speaking," he admitted, the smile turning wry, almost mocking the gravity of the situation. "But he's not going to get that lucky again. I'll see to that, no matter what extremes I have to go to."
"So, what are we going to do?" Arabella asked.
"We're going to kill him."
She nodded. "Right. But how? We can't leave for Baldur's Gate without going to Moonrise Towers first. And Lae'zel would kill us if we don't find that creche. I can't blame her, either," she said and rubbed at her temple with a frown. "This thing is getting to be quite the annoying little shit."
Astarion regarded her with a grin. "Don't fret, darling. According to our dream visitor, we won't be turning into vicious mind flayers any time soon. And I don't mean Cazador. Not yet, anyhow."
Arabella gave him a sharp look. " Astarion. Spit it out."
"The Gur, darling. Oof, what was his name…" He tapped his lip with his pointer finger. "Ah! Gandrel! A handsome fellow, no doubt. But still hunting me, in case you've forgotten."
"I haven't forgotten, you menace." She rolled her eyes at him. "Astarion, he didn't even recognize who you were when we last crossed paths with the man. Why risk it?"
He huffed, almost petulantly. "Because he's been sent to capture me and who knows if Cazador visited him in a dream, too? I don't know, I just want..." he trailed off, looking away from her.
"To feel safe," she finished for him, feeling a fierce protectiveness over him spread in her chest like wildfire.
Astarion looked down at her, his eyes wide with surprise and a hint of relief. "Yes." His voice was soft, small even- so unlike the rogue she had come to know in the last several weeks.
Arabella smiled softly at him. She understood his fear and wanted to help him, but she also knew that if they went after the monster hunter, they ran the risk of putting him in danger. And she wasn't sure she was willing to do that.
She gave him a thorough once-over, a mix of curiosity and concern in her gaze as she stepped closer, closing the small gap between them. Her hand moved gently, a whisper of touch as she tucked a stray silver curl behind his ear. That fleeting contact seemed to trigger something immediate in him; his hand shot up, capturing hers in a swift, decisive motion. Their eyes met, holding each other in a gaze that unfolded like a silent conversation.
His initial firm grasp gradually softened, turning into a tender caress as he traced the delicate skin of her wrist with his thumb. Then, with a careful, almost reverent motion, he lifted her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on the skin there, an intimate gesture that seemed to seal the delicate understanding that had just passed between them.
Her smiled warmed, her eyes darkening slightly before saying, "Alright. We'll go. But only if Solas comes with us."
"Ugh. Why?" Astarion asked, pouting and bringing her hand down slowly.
"Because he's good at what he does, and I trust him," she replied simply, yet she wasn't really sure why. At least that's what she would tell herself for the time being.
Astarion stared at her for a long moment, then sighed in resignation. "Fine," he said with a groan. "But he'd better not try to talk me out of killing the Gur."
Arabella gave him a devilish grin, stepping back to finish putting on her other boot. "No fear, dearie. I'll make sure he doesn't."
~O~
They hit the road while the sun was still stretching its rays. The morning air was fresh, a bit chilly, but invigorating, making everything seem sharper, more vivid. Above them, the sky put on a show in vibrant blue, clear and promising. Their pace was brisk, energized by the start of a new day. By the time the sun was directly overhead, they had covered a lot of ground, pushing closer to their destination: the Gur's camp, nestled deep within the hag's territory.
As they approached the camp, Arabella could see the tension in Astarion's shoulders. She reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He glanced at her and offered a small smile.
"It'll be alright," she said softly, a fierce resolve lingering in her gaze.
Astarion nodded, feeling the strength in her eyes fill him with a warmth he didn't know he needed in that moment. He said nothing.
They entered the camp and were immediately greeted by the Gur. He was tall, an imposing figure, with ruddy skin and shoulder length brown hair, twisted in plaits not too dissimilar from Solas'. His eyes were sharp and calculating as he looked at them.
The Gur greeted them warmly, any hint of suspicion in his eyes quickly waylaid by Arabella's charming smile as she approached the man.
"Gandrel," she greeted with a purr. "I was hoping we'd still find you here. I have good news for you."
The Gur arched an eyebrow, a warm smile slowly forming on his lips. "Oh? Pray tell, friend."
Solas' muscles tightened, a silent alarm going off inside him as he sensed a subtle change in the atmosphere. He watched, almost in slow motion, as Astarion subtly lowered his stance, his body tensing like a cat preparing to leap at its prey. Despite the casual smile the pale elf wore, Solas could almost touch the undercurrent of readiness emanating from him, a tightly wound spring just waiting to be released. There was a deliberate, almost imperceptible movement as Astarion's hand edged closer to the weapon at his side, signaling he was more than prepared for whatever came next.
Arabella spread her feet apart, a stance Solas knew well. She was preparing for a fight, balancing herself. He tensed, his hand slowly reaching for his retracted stave at his hip, and he watched the Gur's trance-like state while speaking to Arabella. She had him in a lulled state, her seductive and dangerous smile luring him in until the man was standing a mere breath away from her.
With a forceful shove, Arabella pushed Gandrel backward, almost playfully, and she threw her head back with a throaty laugh. The Gur looked somewhat surprised, his awareness slowly returning, as if waking from a dream.
Astarion stalked toward Gandrel with a casual grace. "I've crossed paths with your people before, you know," he said, his eyes gleaming dangerously at the man.
In a flash of motion, Astarion unsheathed his dagger, plunging it into the unsuspecting Gur's right eye. The forceful thrust of Astarion's blade caused thick spurts of blood to splash onto his face and onto Arabella's, who was standing right beside him.
"It wasn't a good experience," Astarion said finally as Gandrel's limp body fell to the ground. He looked down at him with a satisfied smirk.
The short moment was filled with a chaotic aura that left Solas with a bad taste in his mouth. He stood by while Arabella laughed, her hands massaging the Gur's blood into her skin with a low moan. He felt slightly horrified at the sight, yet there was something alluring about the way she savored the act of killing the hunter, of the feel of blood on her exposed flesh. He swallowed visibly when she looked up at Astarion with desire in her gaze. A simmering rage roiled in his stomach, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
"That was a bit rash, don't you think?" Solas asked, his voice tight with anger at the pale elf, at her.
"No, I don't think so," Astarion replied coolly. "He was going to take me back to Cazador. I couldn't risk it."
Arabella stepped forward, putting a hand on Solas' arm. "It's alright, Solas.
He turned to her with an incredulous look on his face. "You truly believe that? He just killed a man without reason."
"Oh," Astarion said with a wry chuckle. "I had good reason. He would have delivered me to Cazador's door faster than you could say 'uptight ass'!"
Solas narrowed his eyes at Astarion. "And you believe he would have done that?"
Astarion shrugged. "I don't know. But I wasn't willing to take the chance. Too bad if that offends your sensibilities, but I'm not going to apologize for protecting myself."
Solas took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose steadily. "I suppose I cannot fault you for your actions, but I do not approve of them."
"I don't need your approval," Astarion replied with an icy chuckle.
Arabella stepped between them, holding up her hands. "Alright, that's enough. We're all on the same side here. Let's just... move on."
Solas gave her a long look, a pang of disappointment blooming in his chest. He shook his head, taking in her bloodied state; she looked feral, wild, but still beautiful. He hated that he wanted to kiss her at that moment, to quell the unmistakable desire in her eyes. Yet, the thought remained—what was she expecting his reaction to be? Surely, she knew he would disapprove. There had to be more to it, and the implications unsettled him.
"Very well," Solas said, side-stepping her and walking down the steep hill leading out of the Gur's camp. "I will let this go... for now," his voice rang out behind him.
Astarion scoffed, rolling his eyes with a dramatic flair. "Good. Because I don't want to hear it," he said, grumbling.
~O~
As dusk began to settle over the grove, the camp buzzed with the hustle of preparation. Gear was packed, unnecessary items discarded, or handed off to the tieflings about to depart. In the midst of this flurry, Halsin chose to remain with Arabella and her group as they planned their next venture toward the Moonlight Towers. Arabella, however, couldn't help but frown at the immediate obstacle in their path—the need to locate the creche Lae'zel insisted lay hidden in the mountains. The quest meant a significant detour, prompting her to make a strategic decision. So, she directed the rest of their team to proceed with Halsin to the Underdark, where they would await her return, along with anyone else who decided to join her on this diverted journey.
Later that evening, when the only light came from lit candles and the moon's round face, Arabella sought the comfort of a relaxing cleanse. As she washed off in the falls near the camp, she let her memories of the Gur's murder flood her vision. She bit her lip at the sensation of the warm heat pooling between her legs, and she ran her hands down her breasts and stomach until she reached the pulsing ache between her thighs. The rushing cool water beat down against her back in a rhythm she met with the stroke of her fingers. However, her breath caught at the growing vexation as her desire escaped her, tauntingly lingering in the fraying edges of her awareness. She opened her eyes and growled in frustration, smacking the surface of the water angrily.
The unexpected sound of water being disturbed, distinct from the usual cascade of the falls, caught her attention. Turning, she saw Solas, stripped of his garments, slowly advancing toward her until only a few inches separated them. The water, which reached just below her breasts, lapped gently at his waist. He gazed down at her, his brow furrowed, eyes dark and swirling with a complex mix of unresolved emotions.
She looked up at him through thick lashes, her gaze meeting his defiantly. She knew he was upset with her, and frankly, she wanted him to lose it, to punish her and take her, to make her pay for the Gur's death. She wanted him to be rough, and she wanted him to hate himself for it. She wanted him to hate her for it. Despite not fully understanding the root of her feelings, she sensed an inescapable truth: she was ensnared by an internal poison, a force driving her towards recklessness. This hidden influence compelled her to act against her better judgment, to undertake actions she didn't genuinely desire, leaving her feeling powerless against its push.
Solas pulled her to him roughly, answering her silent call for discipline, his mouth covering hers with an ardent force. When his tongue slipped between her lips, she moaned into his mouth, and he pushed her against the smooth stone wall behind the waterfall. His hands were everywhere, and she arched her back, pushing her breasts against his chest, her nipples hardening at the sensation of his skin against hers. He growled as he kissed her neck, sucking and biting until she cried out. He pulled back to look at her, his eyes dark and wild.
"Is this what you want, vhenan?" he asked hoarsely.
She nodded, her eyes glistening with a dark desire. She licked her lips wantonly, daring him to make his next move.
Solas shook his head, his expression hardening as he clenched his jaw.
Her eyes widened, and she gasped as he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
She moaned at the sound of his voice, the unspoken promises of pleasure laced in his tone, sending a shiver down her spine. He released her wrists and turned her around, pressing her against the cool stone wall, the sound of pouring water roaring deafeningly around them. He ran his hands down her sides, his fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her back against him. She could feel his hardness pressing against her backside, and she moaned as he ground against her.
Solas reached around and cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing against her nipples. He pinched them lightly, causing her to gasp.
"Yes," she breathed.
He continued to tease her nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he kissed her neck. She arched her back, pressing herself against him and grinding against his cock like a cat in heat.
"Please," she moaned. "I need you."
He said nothing, but she could feel his anger mixed with his desire for her. It made her feel like she could climax at the mere intensity of it all.
He released her breasts and moved his hands down her body, his fingers trailing across her skin. He reached between her legs and stroked her wetness, the slickness of her arousal sharply contrasting the smoothness of the water.
She whimpered as he slid two fingers inside her, pumping slowly. She bucked her hips, trying to increase the friction, but he held her still.
"Patience, vhenan," he whispered with a thick voice.
He continued to tease her, his fingers sliding in and out of her. She moaned as he rubbed her sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure through her body.
Removing his fingers and turning her around, he pressed her back against the stone wall again and kissed her deeply. His tongue explored her mouth with a heated passion that threatened to undo them both. When his lips pulled away, she grabbed his hand and wrapped it around her throat, her eyes dark with desire.
He looked down at her with a frown, his eyes flashing with desire and something deeper. Regret. Sorrow. Pain.
"Fuck me," she breathed and closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze any longer. "Hard."
He growled, his loins vibrating with a primal need that both excited and frightened him. He lifted her up, his hands gripping her rear end as he positioned himself at her entrance. She wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out as he entered her, the stretching as he filled her causing her to bite down painfully on her lip.
He thrust into her, his movements hard and fast. She clung to him, her nails digging into his back as she met his rhythm.
"Yes," she moaned. "Don't stop."
He continued to pound into her, his pace relentless. She could feel her climax building, and she arched her back, pushing herself against him.
Solas buried his face in her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. When he growled against her flesh, he could feel her spasming around him, the sensation nearly ushering him over the edge with her.
She cried out as she came, her body shuddering with the waves of tingling pleasure. He continued to thrust into her, his movements becoming more erratic with every sigh and mewl that escaped her lips.
"Arabella," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. With tender affection.
He thrust into her one last time, his body tensing as he spilled himself inside her. He held her close, his breath ragged.
She rested her head on his shoulder, her body limp with satisfaction, and she could feel the slow beginnings of regret forming in her chest. She felt like a monster. Evil and unworthy of his love and kindness.
The water from the falls beat down on them, washing away the evidence of their passion, but not the tension that lingered between them.
Arabella closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of being in his arms, feeling the inevitable end to something sweet and forbidden approaching.
And just as she predicted, Solas pulled away with a pained expression, his eyes full of regret.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice soft and small. She knew why he was looking at her like that, and suddenly her earlier desire for him to hate and punish her made her feel sick. She wanted to crawl into the deepest pit and bury herself alive. "I should have told you what we were planning," she whispered, hating herself.
He shook his head. "You should have told me what you were planning, yes, but I am not upset with you for that."
"Then why are you upset with me?" She tilted her head as she looked up at him, his gray eyes resting on her with an unsettled look.
His jaw clenched, and he looked away from her. "I am upset with you because you think I am weak. You think that I would not have been able to handle what happened with Gandrel."
"I don't think you're weak, Solas," she said, looking at him with a confused expression. "I just didn't want to put you in a situation where you would have to do something that would make you uncomfortable."
"Is that not exactly what you did," he said, his voice rising. "You took me with you and Astarion to kill the Gur, and you knew that I would not approve. You knew that I would have to stand there and watch as an innocent man was murdered in cold blood, and you knew that I would not be able to stop you. You took advantage of my feelings for you."
"I didn't want to force you to do anything," she said, her voice growing louder. "But I also needed you to see. To see me. I needed you to see me for who I really am, Solas."
"I know who you are, Arabella," he said, his voice lowering, tinged with sadness. "I have seen you at your best and at your worst, and I have loved you both."
"Then why won't you love me now?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Why won't you let me be who I am?"
He shook his head, his eyes filled with a despair that made her feel like she was drowning. "I cannot stop loving you, vhenan. But I cannot be the man you want me to be," he said, his voice wavering.
Her eyes brimmed with tears as she shook her head vehemently. "You're wrong," she said, her voice cracking. "You're wrong. You're already that man."
He reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft and sad. "I'm so sorry."
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. She closed her eyes, trying to memorize the feel of his lips against her skin, the smell of him, the warmth of his body. When he pulled away, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, her heart breaking at the tenderness in his eyes. She knew. She knew this was his way of telling her that whatever it was they had, had to end. She held back the sob that threatened to escape her throat, and she nodded, looking down at the water between them brokenly.
"I understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
He reached out and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I will always be here for you, Arabella," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "No matter what happens, I will always be here for you."
She nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. He squeezed her hand one last time before letting go and turning away from her, walking back toward camp.