~O~

The grim depths of the Grymforge were not kind to its unwilling occupants. As our companions made their way through the stony bowels of this forge, the harsh treatment of gnomish workers under duergar oversight did not escape their notice. The name "Nere," a True Soul mentioned in hushed tones by their captors, echoed in their minds, a sinister puzzle piece Sovereign had tasked them to find and deal with.

Solas, visibly disturbed by the sight of gnomes treated as lesser beings, couldn't contain his discontent. "The oppression here... it's intolerable. We must do something," he implored, turning to Arabella, seeking an echo of his sentiment.

Arabella, caught between her innate desire to right the wrongs before her and the darker inclinations that whispered seductively from the recesses of her mind, felt her resolve waver. She couldn't even trust the small yearning to do right, without a wary suspicion of its true motive dragging itself through dark corners of her mind. The insidious darkness within her, always lurking, always whispering, made her question her motives, her desires. Is my urge to help born from compassion, or does it serve a darker appetite? she wondered silently, battling the sinister thoughts that sought to cloud her judgment.

It was Astarion who broke the tense silence that followed Solas' declaration, his voice dripping with a venomous sarcasm that belied his true feelings. "Oh, splendid. Let's stage a rebellion, shall we? Maybe after, we can sing songs around the campfire, basking in our moral superiority," he said, his words laced with disdain not for the plan, but for something deeper, something grossly familiar and vile to him.

Lae'zel stood tensely, offering no comment, though her eyes lingered on Solas for a moment longer than necessary before she averted her gaze, leaving her thoughts unspoken.

In the end, it was the notion of striking against the duergar in a manner that would not directly endanger the gnomes or their quest that united them. They settled on a plan to poison the ale, a subtle yet effective form of sabotage that appealed to their sense of justice while minimizing the risk to themselves and the oppressed.

As they prepared to carry out their plan, Arabella's internal struggle continued, a silent war raging within her soul. The desire to help, to use her power for good, clashed with the darker impulses that were an intrinsic part of her being. Yet, in choosing to act against the duergar's tyranny, she reaffirmed her commitment to her companions and to the part of herself that still believed in the possibility of redemption.

~O~

As the aftermath of their covert action against the Duergar settled, Arabella found herself wrestling with visions far darker than the dim corridors of the Grymforge. The sight of gnomes, rather than being a testament to their successful intervention, morphed into sinister hallucinations. In her mind's eye, they lay at her feet, not as the survivors of duergar cruelty, but as victims of a far more malevolent force—her own dark urge. Each figure was not just defeated but desecrated, soaked in pools of blood that mirrored her inner turmoil. The vivid images haunted her, an unyielding cascade of violence that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

The intensity of her internal battle drained her, the compulsion to harm—an alluring whisper that promised satisfaction and release with each imagined strike—was exhausting. It was a battle not just for control but for her very soul, fought in the silence of her own mind.

Unbeknownst to Arabella, the ferocity of these visions, fueled by the dark power within her, seeped through the tadpole connection. Solas and Astarion were involuntarily drawn into the vortex of her torment. The images that assailed Arabella's consciousness now flickered through theirs, unbidden and disturbingly graphic.

Solas' reaction was immediate, his worry etched in the lines of his face. The visions not only confirmed his fears about the nature of her struggle but also deepened his resolve to aid her in any way he could. His glance toward Astarion was laden with concern, a silent question in his eyes—how can we help her?

Astarion wore a mask of reserve. Behind his composed facade, however, the visions stirred a tumult of emotions. Despite his often cavalier attitude toward danger and the darkness that threaded through their journey, the glimpse into the drow's psyche was a jarring reminder of the burdens she bore. The depth of her torment resonated with him, a chord of empathy struck amidst the cacophony of his own experiences.

Arabella's departure was swift, her movements betraying a turmoil that words had yet to capture. The troubled expression she left in her wake was a silent echo of the battle raging within her—a conflict that now lay bare to Solas and Astarion through the unintended intimacy of the tadpole connection. She headed toward their makeshift camp, seeking solitude, perhaps, or a momentary reprieve from the weight of shared visions.

Left alone, Solas and Astarion found themselves confronting the gravity of what they had experienced. The forge's ambient glow cast their faces in stark relief, highlighting the concern etched deeply into Solas' features.

"She battles with darkness I've seldom seen," he voiced, his tone laced with worry. "It's not the acting on these desires that concerns me the most—it's the distraction, the mental toll. A moment's lapse could lead to catastrophe."

Astarion, leaning against the cool stone wall, crossed his arms, his expression one of pensive concern. "I'll admit," he said, sounding reticent. "I've seen many a dark thing in my time, but this… this is a different beast," he admitted. "I'm not sure what more we can do beyond simply standing by her side."

Solas nodded. "Being there for her might seem a small comfort, but it's a foundation—a reminder that she's not alone in this. Yet, I fear it may not be enough to shield her from the worst of her own mind."

His mind piecing together Arabella's wants and needs, Solas looked at the pale elf with a wary expression, his mouth set in a grim line.

"Astarion," he said after a brief moment of silence, "perhaps there is something we can do to help her, or at least distract her."

Astarion quirked an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips. "Oh? And what kind of distraction did you have in mind, dear boy?"

Solas straightened, his eyes glinting dangerously as the corners of his lips slowly curled upward.

~O~

In the dim, oppressive shadows of the Grymforge, their mission took an unexpected turn. The liberation of the True Soul, Nere, from his imprisonment behind the collapsed rubble was supposed to be a straightforward task, a checkbox on their long list of daunting objectives. However, the grim reality of Nere's actions, the merciless killing of the gnomes trapped alongside him, laid bare the monstrous nature of their supposed ally.

The revelation sparked a silent, shared consensus among the group. Arabella's gaze, fraught with the turmoil of her own dark urges yet shining with an unwavering sense of justice, met those of her companions. In that moment, their decision was made. The notion of aiding Nere in murdering a people already being held in violent oppression went against everything they collectively stood for. Without a word, they turned on the True Soul drow, their resolve as sharp as the blades they wielded.

As Nere's body fell, dazed and not yet dead, so too did his Moon Lantern, shattered in the fray. The loss of the lantern, a crucial tool in their planned traversal of the Shadow Cursed lands, was a bitter pill to swallow. Arabella's curse echoed in the forge, frustration at this setback visible in the tightness of her jaw and the fire in her eyes.

"What the fuck are we supposed to do now?" She let out a visceral hiss as she kicked the drow's limp body, before kneeling beside him.

In what appeared as a tender act, Arabella ran her hand over Nere's hair, brushing it back softly before abruptly grabbing a fistful of hair roughly. A vicious sneer contorted her features as she drew her blade across his neck, blood gushing forth and splattering onto her face in spurts. When reaching the column of his spine, she began hacking at the bone, her grunts echoing in the vastness of the Grymforge.

Solas watched with a complex churn of emotions. It wasn't the act itself that unsettled him, but rather the flicker of something dark across Arabella's features, a shadow of enjoyment that danced in her eyes. Yet another glimpse into the depth of her struggle with her darkness left him wrestling with a sense of unease.

He admired the woman deeply, for her strength, her compassion, and her unyielding spirit. Yet, witnessing this moment, Solas was reminded of the precarious balance she maintained within herself, between the light of her inherent goodness and the darkness of the urges she fought to control. It was a reminder that her battle was not solely against external foes but against the very nature of her being.

Astarion, on the other hand, watched Arabella with a burgeoning sense of pride. Her satisfaction, her unabashed embrace of the darker facets of her being, resonated with him. It wasn't that he agreed with her enjoyment of the act itself, but he recognized in her a kindred spirit—a reflection of his own complexities and the shadows he navigated. To him, her darkness didn't diminish her; it added layers to her character, depth to their connection. Where Solas felt unease, Astarion found understanding, a dance with darkness that both of them knew all too well.

Arabella walked over to the gnomes, Nere's bloodied and dripping head in hand. When she stretched it out before them, an unreadable expression on her face, they looked at each other with visible apprehension.

"Beldron, was it?" Arabella asked, pushing the drow's head into one of the gnome's hands.

The gnome nodded, gulping loudly before looking down at the grim sight in his arms.

"Have your people take the head to the Myconid leader, Sovereign. The reward is yours to do as you see fit," she said, her eyes flashing briefly.

Astarion scoffed, half mocking and half incredulous, and was met with Arabella's fiery scowl. Yet, when she looked away, his expression softened into a wry smile, the tightness in his chest a mixture of admiration and a blossoming realization of the depth of his feelings for her. For all the shadows that danced at the edges of her spirit, she possessed a capacity for kindness that seemed to defy the very darkness she battled. It was in these moments of generosity, that the rogue found himself drawn to her light, however dim it might sometimes seem. The complex irony of his attraction to her many layers was not lost on him, as he watched her with dark eyes.

~O~

Back at camp, Arabella found herself alone, kneeling in a quiet corner away from prying eyes and ears. Each time she closed her eyes, she could see them; small slender bodies, all nimble limbs, strewn about in a pool of blood, eyes open, mouths agape in horror, and over them all stood she, towering over the scene with a macabre smile and obvious pride in her handiwork.

The sensation of need and want throbbed and pulsed inside her chest, between her legs, and she felt an intensifying surge of desire overtake her. She felt hungry, insatiable, wild. The sound of footsteps entering her personal sphere of solitude caused her eyes to bolt open. When she turned, her eyebrows rose in genuine surprise.

Solas and Astarion slowly approached her, both looking at her with curious expressions. Arabella noted their similar expressions, almost like they were trying to tame a wild animal.

"Hello," she said as she looked up at them. They stopped just a few feet away from her. "I think I may have frightened the others." She let out a humorless laugh, looking at them apologetically.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Solas asked, crouching down next to her, his left knee resting on the ground, and his left hand pressed against the dirt.

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Perhaps we can take your mind off things," Astarion offered, kneeling beside her, as well.

"Oh? What do you have in mind?" she asked, her smile widening by the second.

Solas smiled back at her, something mischievous gleaming in his eyes. "I think what our friend Astarion is suggesting is that we could give you something else to ponder on," he offered, his tone low and soothing, and so very calm.

"Oh," she repeated, suddenly realizing what they were offering. "Is this meant to be a distraction?"

Solas nodded. "If you want it to be."

Arabella looked over at Astarion, who grinned at her. He was handsome, all chiseled lines, pale skin, and bright red lips, with piercing ruby red eyes. She imagined what they would look like looking up at her as he went down on her, and her cheeks flushed. "I do."

"So it would seem," Solas whispered, leaning forward to pull her into his embrace as he knelt and sat back on his haunches. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, helping her to lay her head back on his lap. The position left her with a clear view of Astarion, who had begun to tug off her boots and trousers.

"What are you up to?" she asked, eyes wide with excitement, before narrowing them at the vampire spawn.

"As you wished. We are distracting you, my love," Solas answered, cupping her face in his hands, tilting her head to look up at him.

She looked up at him, her eyes roving over his features. He looked so different like this.

"Is this alright?" he asked, tenderly stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Yes," she replied, nodding as much as she could in his grasp. "More than alright. This is... unexpected."

"How so?" Solas asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I never took you for the sharing type."

"Vhenan," he said softly, his tone dripping with sensuality and promise. "There is much you do not know about me yet."

"I look forward to discovering it all," she teased back, her heart skipping a beat. " With both of you."

He smiled at her, letting go of her head and moving his hands to her neck, gently massaging the muscles there.

Between her legs, Astarion tugged at the waistband of her smalls, tossing them aside with a dark chuckle. She was exposed to both of them, the cool air of the evening causing goosebumps to form along her skin. Astarion leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her right knee, his lips parting as he licked at her inner thigh. He slowly kissed and licked his way up her thigh, stopping just short of her center before switching to her other thigh, repeating the process.

Solas leaned down and kissed her, his tongue darting out to taste her lips. He ran his hands along her torso, pulling up her blouse with one hand, and feeling the softness of her skin under his fingertips with the other. He traced the curves of her breasts, the taut muscles of her abdomen, the small indents of her ribcage.

Astarion had moved his ministrations up her inner thighs and was now gently licking at the apex between her thighs. She moaned, arching her back, her mouth open in a silent gasp of pleasure. Solas brought his mouth down over her breasts, the heat of his tongue leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The sensations sent a rush of heat through her, pooling between her legs, causing her to groan in pleasure.

"You taste divine, my sweet," Astarion whispered against her, his voice raspy as he ran the tip of his nose along her slit.

Solas pulled his head up to look down at her, his eyes half-lidded, and nodded in agreement.

"You smell even better," he breathed, kissing the underside of her breast, his lips moving up toward the valley between them. His teeth nipped at the flesh there, causing her to squirm.

"Fuck," she cursed, her breath coming out in pants. "Please, I need more."

"Patience, vhenan," Solas chastised, a hint of laughter in his voice. "Let us enjoy you for a little while longer."

She felt the familiar sensation of Astarion's fangs raking across her skin, the sensation causing her breath to hitch and shiver under his touch. When he finally sank the sharp tips into her thigh, she let out a small, strangled gasp of pain, followed by a moan of pleasure as he drank from her. Solas reached down, his fingers brushing against her wet folds, before gently rubbing circles around her sensitive bud. When he leaned down to capture her lips in a sultry kiss, she moaned at the feel of his tongue in her mouth, her body trembling with need.

Between Astarion's feeding and Solas' touch, it didn't take long for her to reach the peak of waves building up inside, her whole body shuddering as she cried out.

"Your taste will leave me sated for days, darling," Astarion said with a drawl, his voice low and husky. "Delicious." He continued lap at her with his tongue, tasting every bit of her, before pulling away and looking up at her. His eyes were dark with hunger, and she could see the sharp points of his teeth peeking out from between his lips.

"I must agree," Solas added, his voice a low rumble. "You are truly exquisite, vhenan."

Arabella smiled at them, her heart fluttering in her chest. "I'm glad you two enjoyed yourselves."

"I am sure I can speak for both of us when I say that we always enjoy ourselves with you," Solas replied, his words making her blush.

Astarion chuckled, his devilish grin lighting up his features. "Indeed, we do."

She gave them both a searing look, and arched an eyebrow at them inquisitively, biting her lip playfully.

Astarion let out a soft laugh, kissing her knee before resting his head against her thigh. "My sweet, tonight is all about you."

Solas gave her a smoldering look, his small smile sending a new rush of heat through her as she looked up into his gray eyes.

"What if I want you both?

"Another night, vhenan," Solas said, slowly pulling her blouse back down over her breasts and stomach. "I promise," he said with a laugh when she pouted up at him in obvious disappointment.

They helped her clean herself up and get dressed. When she was ready, they walked back toward the camp together, Solas' hand resting on the small of her back, Astarion's arm draped around her shoulders. They found the rest of their group sitting around the fire, enjoying dinner, and she joined them. She couldn't help but smile at the fact that her dark thoughts and urges were no longer plaguing her, and she knew it was all thanks to Solas and Astarion. She made a mental note to thank them later, when she was alone with them, but for now, she would enjoy the company of her friends and the comfort of being amongst them.

~O~

Back in his tent, Astarion lay awake, thinking of all that had transpired a short while earlier. He could still feel the way Arabella had trembled under his touch, how she had tasted on his lips, and the sounds she had made when he had pleasured her.

It had been different, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He had never wanted someone the way he had wanted her then, and the feeling had overwhelmed him. It had made him want to give her everything, to do everything in his power to make her happy.

But that wasn't possible, was it? He was still a slave to Cazador, and he knew that if he tried to defy him, he would suffer the promised wrath. He also knew his master would take great pleasure in torturing and killing Arabella, and that thought filled him with a sense of dread and despair.

Astarion knew he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't allow Cazador to hurt her, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. But how? Cazador wouldn't stop until he found him, and that meant all he was slowly beginning to hold dear was in danger.

Arabella entered the tent and closed the flap behind her. Astarion looked up at her, his expression unreadable. He had a troubled look in his eyes, and he seemed preoccupied.

"Astarion," she said softly as she knelt beside him. "Are you alright?"

He looked at her, his gaze intense. "No," he admitted, unwilling to don his mask of casual indifference. "I'm not."

"What's wrong?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm, and he felt the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of his tunic.

Astarion sighed, closing his eyes. "Just thinking, is all."

Arabella smiled at him, her eyes sparkling. "About me?"

He laughed dryly, shaking his head. "Not exactly."

"Oh." Arabella's smile faltered slightly, replaced by a small playful pout. "Well, then, what were you thinking about?"

"Everything," Astarion said with a furrowed brow. "The past, the present, the future."

"Well, that sounds rather ominous," she responded with a frown.

He barked a small laugh, all mirth gone from his voice. "It is. I can't stop thinking about it."

"Tell me," she said, her voice soft and gentle.

He hesitated, unsure of how to begin. "I used to think that sex was something I did because Cazador ordered me to."

"I'm not sure I understand." She tilted her head slightly as she appraised him quietly.

"You remember what I told you before? About how he made me lure people to him so he could feed on them, amongst other things?" Astarion waited for Arabella to nod before continuing. "Well, I always had to seduce them first, to garner their unwavering trust in me. It was the only way I could get close enough to them without them seeing my true face. And once I had them where I wanted them, I would bring them to him… to do as he pleased."

Arabella's face remained impassive, yet the faintest hint of a grim understanding dawned in her eyes. "So, you mean to say you never enjoyed those encounters? You were essentially forced to be intimate with those people?"

"Yes." Astarion's voice was thick with emotion. "And it made me feel... dirty. Like I was some cheap whore... and I didn't even make a profit," he said with a dry chuckle, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Astarion–"

"It's true." His tone was harsh, and he cut her off before she could continue. "I felt like I had no choice. Like I was just a piece of meat to be used and discarded whenever Cazador saw fit."

"That's not true." Arabella's voice was gentle, but firm. "You're so much more than that, Astarion. You're a person, and you deserve to be treated with respect."

"Do I?" he scoffed. "I've done terrible things, led people to their torture, their deaths." Innocent people. "All because Cazador ordered me to. And now I'm free of him... I mean, am I? That bastard will find me one way or another."

Her heart ached for him, and she reached out to touch his hand. "You didn't have a choice, Astarion. Cazador was the one who ordered you to do those things. You can't blame yourself for what you were compelled to do by force."

"Perhaps not," he said, his jaw tensing visibly. "But I can't help but feel..." Guilty, he thought. "Angry," he spoke aloud.

"Angry?" Arabella repeated.

Astarion nodded, his eyes flashing with rage. "Angry that I let that swine control me for so long. Angry that I let him use me like that. Angry that I didn't stand up to him."

"You couldn't have done anything, love," Arabella said, her voice full of compassion. "Cazador was too powerful. You would have been killed if you tried to defy him."

"Perhaps," Astarion said bitterly. "But I should have tried anyway. Him killing me would have been a gift."

"You did what you had to do to survive," she said, sitting back on her laurels, her eyes flashing defiantly. "You can't blame yourself for that."

He shook his head, his expression darkening. "I suppose not. But it doesn't change how I feel. I'm tainted. Perhaps it's a gift I can't gaze upon myself in a mirror. I wouldn't want to see what looks back at me."

"You're beautiful." Her voice was soft and soothing.

Astarion's eyes widened, and he looked at her in surprise. "What?"

She smiled, her eyes shining with admiration. "You heard me."

Astarion let out a laugh, a hint of his usual charm returning to his eyes. "Maybe... Go on..." he encouraged her with a grin.

Arabella grinned back at him, a mischievous gleam in her gaze. "Let's see," she said, running her fingers through his white curls. "Your lips are incredibly sensual, and all the more alluring when they're put to good use." She smiled wickedly at him. "Your eyes are like pools of rubies, and your skin is so soft and pale, like fresh cream waiting to be drank in full."

Astarion chuckled, enjoying her description of him. "You flatter me, my dear."

"And your body," Arabella continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, "is like a work of art. So strong and muscular, yet so lithe and graceful. You move like a cat, all fluidity and elegance."

"Darling," Astarion said, fanning himself with a hand, leaning back on his other. "Keep it up and you'll have me wrapped around your little finger."

She laughed throatily, her head tilted back, exposing her neck to his hungry gaze. When she looked at him, her eyes grew dark, a hunger matching his own, yet there was something else there, something softer, real, and fragile.

"We will kill him, Astarion. You will end his miserable life, and I will help you. I promise." Arabella took his hands in hers, holding them in a firm grip, pulling him close.

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers, and he saw something he never thought he would see again in anyone, let alone her.

Trust.

She trusted him, even after seeing him as he truly was. No mask or deceit. Just Astarion.

He could see it in the way she looked at him, the way her body relaxed in his embrace, the way she held his hands. He could see it in the way she smiled at him, the way she leaned in and kissed him.

He had never felt this way before. He had never felt so... safe. He had never felt so cared for.

But he knew he didn't deserve it.

He knew he didn't deserve her.

Yet her touch told him otherwise, the way she ran her fingers through his hair, the way she kissed him, the way she moaned into his mouth as he ran his tongue over hers, the way she arched her back when he entered her. It was all too much, too intense, too real.

Astarion wanted to lose himself in her, to forget about everything else and just be with her. But he knew he couldn't, that he had to face his demons, that he had to deal with them before he could truly move on. For now, he allowed himself the pleasure of her embrace, of her touch, of her affection. He let himself get lost in her, in the moment, in her warmth, in her scent, in her taste.

And for a few precious moments, he felt whole.

But it couldn't last. He knew that. He would have to face the menacing specters of his demons one way or another.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he would surrender to the bliss she provided, to the gentle affection he harbored for her. And perhaps, in doing so, he might discover a measure of peace.