1.
For two centuries the Vampire Ascendant came to her. Every ten years he'd make the long journey to the Forest of Amtar, to the temple half buried within it. There he'd find her, unchanged in all the centuries she's laid there. The same beautiful gown gracing her perfect body, crimson hair like a pool of blood beneath her, her face the picture of lovely sorrow, tears ever flowing, softly lit by the glow of her prison. And just outside that glow he'd sit, unmoving, for a tenday. Unable to reach her, unable to touch her. Always with the intention of freeing her but never knowing how.
On this visit She comes to him: Loviatar. Her cold presence filling the room as She smiles at him from the other side of his lover's prison, Her eyes sparkling as She speaks,
"How long before you give up, little tyrant?" He doesn't answer Her, just meets Her icy gaze with his own fiery one. She comes to him, stepping over Her prisoner's body to caress his face, whispering in his ear, "How about we play a little game? I will free her from this cage, but there will be… conditions."
His body tenses, his eyes locking onto her, his longing and regret threatening to break his imposing countenance, his voice thick with held in emotion,
"Anything. Just give her back."
Loviatar sweeps behind him, wrapping Her long arms around his neck, nuzzling into him before pressing Her cheek to his, joining him in looking down at Her Chosen,
"She will wake, but… she will have no memory of these past 1000 years. She will wake believing it's the day she was abducted from Baldur's Gate. She won't know you, the life you lived, of the love she bears you, none of it. She won't even know what she is." His eyes flinch, his love will wake a stranger in her own body, "You will have to earn her love all over again. I will give you one year. And in that time she must learn the truth of what you did to her. How she spent 300 years in blissful happiness with you only to spend 700 years in torment here, and she must choose to stay with you despite it all. If not… I will take her back, restore her memory and leave her in a hell of her own making. And you, Astarion… You will spend the rest of eternity knowing that she would rather torture herself forever with memories of a life she once shared with you than forgive you and start life anew with you. "
"You would truly do this? You would set her free?" His heart races at the thought of holding her in his arms again, refusing to hear the warning of their shared fates.
"She has been an unending font of pleasure for me. A veritable feast. I do so hate to give it up, but… You are quite delicious too, my little vampire lord. I wish to continue savoring you as well. I quite enjoy playing with my food… And, with that in mind, should you manage to make her love you, despite being the monster that you are, I shall let her go. A thousand years of having my perfect Chosen is far more than any of the other gods have ever had. Oh, save for my Lord Bane, of course." Her eyes gleam, drinking in his distaste at the mention of his god, the architect of his misery, "Oh! And one more thing, she can't know of our little game. You can tell no one. Understood?"
"Yes." Whatever the conditions, he doesn't care, he'd agree to anything She asks to get her back.
Loviatar's mouth stretches into an unnatural grin, all viciousness and cruelty, vanishing as the glow beneath Talia fades away…
Talia stirs. First, her fingers twitch and curl. Her face rubs into her arm as though she were simply waking from a dream. And suddenly she sits up, frantically looking around,
"Ana!" Her eyes wide, wildly darting around this unfamiliar place as she calls out again, "Ana!" Her breaths are rapid and shallow, still searching as she tries to stand, her eyes falling on him, "Who- Who are you? Where's Ana?"
Her lip quivers, tears shimmer in her eyes, threatening to fall. He steps closer to her, wanting desperately to reach out to her, to take her into his arms, to smell her skin, to bury his face in her hair… But she looks at him like he's a stranger. He is a stranger. Instead, he kneels down in front of her and holds out a hand, smiling gently,
"It's alright. Come here, let me help you."
She stares at his hand, not trusting him. Her lips turn down, her brow furrowing as she recoils from him and it breaks a little more of his heart.
"Where's Ana?" Her whole body trembles, holding in her tears.
Her hands move to grip the fabric of her tunic dress but it feels wrong, it doesn't feel like the rough spun linen of her clothes; it's soft… plush… velvet. She looks down at a gown she's never seen before. He watches her fingers splay out over her thighs, touching the narrow bit of fabric that barely covers her body, nails catching on the golden embroidery, looking at the last thing he ever gave her. She stares at it in horror, again her eyes look around, truly taking in where she is. She doesn't know this place.
"What's going on? Where am I?" Her voice cracks, her eyes demanding an answer.
He holds his hand out to her still,
"There's no need to be scared," Her face contorts with confusion and fear, silently staring at him, but he keeps his voice calm, "What's the last thing you remember?"
She begins to speak, her words come slowly at first, then faster, tumbling out as her final moments flood back into her mind in horrifying detail,
"Um… I was shopping with my friend… in low town… then the sky went dark. There was something in the sky. Huge and shiny and it had tentacles like a squid. And there was screaming. So much screaming. And Ana… she was right next to me. I tried to grab her to run but then I… I just… vanished… and now," Her eyes lock back on him, narrowing, her panicked breaths slowing, her voice calming to measured suspicion, "I'm here… wearing this… with you…"
"There's no need to look at me like that, darling. Where were you when you vanished?"
"Low town. Like I said."
"Which low town? Many cities have a low town."
"Are we not in Baldur's Gate?"
"No. We're no where near it. What you just described, the Illithid Attack on Baldur's Gate, happened over a thousand years ago."
"What? …No. No, I don't believe you." She stands, backing away on unsteady legs. She rushes to a window, looking out only to see a dark unfamiliar forest, "No, no, no!" She runs to another one, stumbling on loose stones, looking and seeing more of the same. She bites down on her lip, piercing it instantly, "Ouch! What-" Her fingers touch her bleeding lip, "How?" Her tongue gingerly wraps around the pointed tips of her teeth, fangs that have appeared out of nowhere, "What's happened to me?" She turns to the stranger then looks back at the glass of the window, searching for her reflection but finding only his, blurry, and coming closer. Her head whips between him and the window not comprehending what's happening. Why can she see him but not herself? "What happened to me? What am I?!"
"It looks to me like you are a vampire."
Her fingers grip the windowsill, trying to stop herself from shaking, his warm hand gently resting on her bare shoulder. She stands motionless, staring into his reflection's red eyes, his hand floating before him, where her shoulder should be,
"I wasn't a vampire before I… before I disappeared…" Tears again threaten to fall, but she notices how calmly he said it, "Why don't you sound surprised?"
"They are rather common now. You would not be the first I've met."
"...Oh…" How much has changed that vampires are commonplace? She tells herself to calm down, breathe, "And… Where are we?"
"Some ancient temple ruins, deep in a dark forest." He smiles, wondering if she will appreciate a bit of humor now.
"Hah, I can see that," The faintest of smiles graces her full lips, "How did you find me?" She bites the inside of her mouth, her new fangs offering a sharp pain to concentrate on, helping her to prepare.
"My army did, as we were passing through. They said there was something I should see. And what I saw was you, laying on the floor, seemingly under an enchantment. I woke you." The first of his new lies.
"An enchantment? But why would I…? How did you wake me?" She watches his face in the glass, unsure if she should believe him.
"I do not know. I simply reached out to touch you, and the enchantment broke."
"Oh… And, your army?" She turns to face him.
"Yes. I was on campaign to quell some rebellions. We were on our way back when you were discovered by scouts. The rest are at camp just beyond the forest."
The lies come so easily to him. It's true enough that his army is just at the edge of the forest, but he never comes without them; his reign over Toril is no longer stable. He says nothing of this, he cannot risk her learning too much. Not before he's ready to tell her.
"I see…"
He watches her think, recalling the way she would bite the inside of her lower lip when lost in thought. That when she wasn't careful she would bleed, leaving her blood to drip from the corner of her mouth. That he was always nearby to help her clean up…
"Come with me back to my pavilion. I can show you on a map where we are, if you still don't believe me."
He holds a hand out towards the far end of the altar room where light shines through an open door. Her eyes only briefly flick towards it before falling back on him, taking in the look of him. She thinks him to be a handsome elf with silver white curls and scarlet eyes, his clothes are of an exquisite quality, and they way he looks down on her… He is at the very least a high ranking noble, possibly even related to royalty. She needs to get back to Baldur's Gate, but if she is truly in the middle of nowhere she will need help. She has nothing to offer other than herself; a Paramour for hire…
"Thank you, my Lord." She smiles demurely, looking up through her lashes.
"You may call me Astarion. And your name?"
"...Lycoris." She purrs, one shoulder rising as she lets her head tip ever so slightly to one side, her arms wrapping around herself, accentuating the full roundness of her breasts.
It's her Paramour name. His hand curls into a fist behind his back, hiding his resentment at her not telling him her true name, but instead giving him her whore name.
"Beautiful, as you are, darling. Come, this way."
2.
Their walk through the forest is silent as she continues to think, gnawing relentlessly on her lip, ignoring the blood that has started to drip from the corner of her mouth. Astarion can barely contain his desire to bring his lips down onto hers, to taste her again after so long. He tells himself to be patient, he has her again, and now he will always have her.
Talia's thoughts swirl around what this man told her. A thousand years? Could that be true? If it is then that means everyone she's ever known is long dead. They could have been born the day she vanished and still they'd be gone. She thinks of all those at her temple, at The Chateau; Truescar Davora… Ana… Maiden help her… her harlequin… Even he would be nothing but bones in the ground. She bites harder still, swallowing her grief, she cannot wallow in it now. Who knows what this man beside her wants. She needs to be ready. She licks her lips, cleaning away the bloody mess.
The camp bustles at the return of their liege, his dark glare sending them running to prepare whatever it is they need to please him and his prize. Their eyes follow the pair as they pass, whispering about how he returned with her. Those who are long lived enough to know this ritual never thought they would see her. They only ever saw the fearsome face of their king as he stalked back alone every time.
His tent is indeed a grand pavilion, made almost entirely of black and red damask with golden details. A man in matching livery pulls open the entrance as they walk in. The entire floor is carpeted, there's mountains of pillows in almost every corner, a large heavy desk to one side, a grand bed along the back and a great brazier burning in the center. Talia had never seen such traveling luxury before, it's hard for her to not gasp at the sight of it all. Astarion beams, proud to be returning her to the life she deserves.
"Here, my maps," He brings her to his desk, standing behind her, one hand to the side of her, leaning on the desk, trapping her between it and him, the other shoving aside all the papers of state to reveal a map, "We are here." He points to a dark forest with a ruin painted near the edge of it.
It's nowhere near any roads or towns of note. Talia keeps her face calm as she looks it over, wondering why an army would be marching through here if they were simply dealing with rebellions.
"I do not recognize this place. Where's Baldur's Gate?"
"Over here," He slides his finger across most of the map; through a vast swath of land, then to the ocean where his finger slides up the coast, stopping on a depiction that would have her think Baldur's Gate is now twice the size it was when she lived there, "It is quite the journey from here."
"Thank you." Her heart sinks. How did she ever end up all the way over here? Half a world away?
"That is home for me, as well. I could take you there." He turns his face into her hair, breathing in the sweet scent of lilies that always clung to her.
"Again, thank you. But, I have no way of repaying you. I am not some long lost scion of a noble house." She turns, barely able to for being trapped between his body and the desk, but that works in her favor.
"I would have thought differently, judging by your gown," He lets his hand slide up along her side, passed the delicate golden chain draped over her hips, his fingers brushing over her breast, stopping to slip under the strap of her gown.
"No, my Lord. I have nothing, save for what I'm wearing," She leans back, her hands behind her on the desk, his finger hooked on the strap pulling it away from her body, threatening to let her spill out, "And myself…" One leg slides up along his, her eyes grow dark, her lips teasing him with a smirk.
He can contain his lust for her no longer. His hands slip under the straps of her gown, sliding them down over her shoulders, exposing her breasts as he leans down into her, kissing her, feeling her lips on his after so long. She parts them, letting him slide his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. His hands roam over the skin he once counted the freckles of, memorizing their patterns.
She perches on the edge of the desk to open her legs to him, holding them up, waiting for him to push her down and do as he pleases with her. But instead he stays at her lips, kissing her, stealing her breath away as a familiar feeling washes over her. She wants this stranger, this lord, like she wanted Him… Her darkness rises, telling her that He's gone, she'll never have Him, but this one she can have. This one she can let devour her.
His mouth finally moves from hers to her neck, leaving her gasping for air when she feels him biting down into her, piercing her skin with fangs of his own. Curious. But her mind can't think of why he had a reflection if he's like her. Instead she's overwhelmed with a need to feel his skin on hers. She reaches forward to begin opening his coat, his hands moving to her waist to hold her up as she unbuttons his clothes. She works quickly, he need only slide them off his shoulders, his own hands then going to pull her gown off of her, but it's stuck… The damned golden chain he had put on her, his last claim to her, marking her as his greatest treasure, to be kept under lock and key…
"Sorry, my Lord, I do not have the key to that," Her arms reach up over his shoulders, her fingers tangling into his hair, bringing him down so that she can whisper in his ear, "You will just have to push my skirt to the side if you want to have me." Her breath stirs his curls as she bites down on the lobe of his ear.
His hand begins to do as she suggested, but he wants more, he wants all of her. He grips the gown and chain in both hands and rends them apart. She giggles, that cherished sound, and he kisses her again as her hands free him from his pants. He slides into her easily, her body shuddering slightly, a tiny gasp escaping her lips as he hilts himself in her, staying a moment to take in that he truly has her.
She can't recall ever wanting anyone like this, save for her harlequin. Her body's on fire having his pressed to hers, his cock stretching her, filling her. His hands gripping her hips roughly, digging into her as he begins to thrust. Had she ever been this wet for anyone before? She can think of nothing but of how good he feels and all she can do is cling to him, her lips parted, waiting for him to claim them again.
He pushes her down onto his desk, pinning her wrists above her head, burying his teeth in her neck again, rolling his hips, relishing the sounds of her whimpering and moaning at his touch. He drinks deeply of her this time, unable to resist the sweetness. He breaks away, her blood smeared across his lips. He smiles down at her half hooded eyes, bringing his lips to hers, wanting her to taste herself, so she may know her blood is his ambrosia.
He releases his hold on her wrists to lean back, grabbing her legs and forcing them fully open. She cries out, grasping at the edge of the desk above her head as he pounds into her. Pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into her, deep and hard. She begins to writhe beneath him, her body rising ever closer to climaxing, her wet tightness beginning to quiver around him, threatening to bring him with her. He continues, pumping into her, harder, faster until he feels her cumming. Pulsing rhythmically around him, his own end following hers.
He looks down, almost unbelieving that she's there, that she's once again his to touch, to kiss, to bite, to taste, to fuck. He goes back down to her, to have her lips on his again as they pant their satisfaction.
3.
Aeterna Amantes… Lovers forever…
Talia jolts awake, the whispered voice from her dream already fading; it was so familiar and yet unrecognizable. She slips from the bed, careful not to disturb the still dreaming man beside her. She pads softly over to the desk, looking down at the only thing she could have rightly called hers; her gown. It lays shredded and useless in a pile upon the ground; left there when he tore it from her body in his need to see all of her, feel all of her. Just thinking about the way he looked at her makes her flush with lust… She shakes her head and looks around for something she may be allowed to wear. She opens a trunk and digs, finding a cloak; not an ornate one, but one meant for warmth. She wraps herself in it before going to the tent's entrance. Her hand reaches for the flap as his voice calls out to her, low and questioning,
"Where are you sneaking off to?"
He startles her, an almost imperceptible gasp as she brings her hand back to the other and grasps the soft fabric of the cloak,
"Nowhere. I was just going to get some air. I did not mean to disturb your rest, my Lord," He rises from the bed and walks over to where she stands, her body turning to face him, her eyes cast down, "I'm sorry," She shrugs her shoulders letting the cloak fall off them, "I have nothing else to wear…"
Her fingers only lightly hold the front of the garment closed, ready to relinquish their grasp should he choose to disrobe her. She wouldn't stop him, not just for her training but because she wants him. The first of her patrons to make her feel true desire, and it confuses her. She had only wanted a moment to herself, to think, to cry, maybe pray… She doesn't even know if her goddess would listen to her prayers, having fallen silent for a thousand years.
He stands over her, looking down at the tops of her breasts pressed against her hands, enticing him to open the cloak. He likes the thought of her having nothing to wear, of her being forced to be deliciously exposed for him, always. But they are yet to reach Baldur's Gate, yet to reach their palace where he could sequester her away.
The need for her rises again and he reaches out to her, his fingers finding their way under the front of the cloak as she lets her hands fall away. It slithers to the floor in a hushed whisper, he brings his face down to hers, kissing her lips, biting them, tasting them as she moans into him. He wraps his arms around her, lifting her easily and taking her back to his bed.
She lays back on the deep green of the silk sheets, her bronze skin glowing against it, her blood red hair shining in vibrant contrast. He lifts her leg to place gentle kisses along it, moving up, closer to where she waits for him to take her. His tongue dips into her, savoring her wetness, his teeth biting into her thighs, just at their apex, so very close to her scar, his mark from before he changed her.
Her fingers curl, twisting the sheets, trying to hold her body still as his mouth does devious things to her. His fingers join; swirling and spreading her as his mouth sucks at her clit, his tongue flicking it sporadically. She can't stop herself from cumming quickly. He stays there, continuing to lavish her as she goes on unraveling, the prolonged pleasure mingling with sweet agony. He moves up her body, his own desperate to find ecstasy in her. His cock hard, dripping with anticipation as he slides into her still quivering tightness, her overflowing wetness: all of it for him. She gasps, that same little gasp as always when he sinks himself deep inside, then he holds still for just a moment before ravaging her.
He moves her legs, hooking them over his shoulders so he can fuck her harder, rolling his hips, smearing the blood from his bites, thrusting unrelentingly, his every move pushing them closer until they end together. How had he given her up? For what? The world? Was the world truly worth the loss of this?
"More?" Her panted breaths make the word almost inaudible.
His eyes narrow at her, his damned nymph, saying that while he's still spilling himself into her. But he doesn't know if she's begging for more or asking him if he wants more. She doesn't even know. The word simply slipped past her lips as if by habit, even though she's never uttered it to her patrons before. It makes no difference. The answer is yes, it has always been yes.
He growls in her ear, finding himself still hard, her insatiableness only driving him to further indulge in his ravenous lust. He'd forgotten how he need only touch her for her body to respond intensely. How she would cum so easily for him. How even as the waves of one orgasm faded her body would begin to rise again, ready for more. Always more, only for him.
Her body, her darkness, comes alive at his touch, craving more and more. She doesn't understand how he can make her feel this way; she can't. All she can do is surrender to it, revel in the way she feels like she was made for him and he was made for her.
He lays heavily on top of her, deep ragged breaths shaking his body as he noses into her neck. She doesn't mind the weight of him pressing down on her and he doesn't seem to mind her fingers gently tracing what feels like scars across his back; it's oddly comforting for them both. She keeps her legs pressed to his sides, letting him feel their shaking, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she speaks,
"Are you finally satisfied, my Lord?"
"Never," She can't see his hungry smile as he nips her neck, "And I told you to call me Astarion."
"Sorry. I am unaccustomed to my patrons wanting me to call them by name."
"Patron?" He leans back to look at her.
"...Yes..." Her quizzical look marring this blissful moment, "That is what you are, is it not?"
"Why would you say that?"
"I'm sorry," She slides her hands from his back to the bed, slowly grasping at the sheet, "I thought I was clear about what I am. You seemed to understand…" She looks down and away, thinking how it's so difficult talking to nobles about these crass things, they never want to speak plainly, always obscuring it with flowery words and euphemisms.
"What did you think I understood?"
"That… well… I'm a Paramour… Um, a courtesan… and I thought that what this was was an arrangement… You take me back to Baldur's Gate, for a price... Me… At least, for as long as you wanted me. If you grow weary of me, I will find my own way back. "
"No, you're…" He searches her mismatched eyes, looking for some hint that she was joking but she only continues to look at him confused, anxious. She's not the woman he abandoned here 700 years ago, she's the girl he had hoped to claim before everything changed, "Hah, I could not imagine ever growing weary of you." She smiles brightly at that, her hand reaching up to smooth some wayward curls from his face, "Stay with me."
"What?"
"You will stay with me. Even after returning to Baldur's Gate."
"Are you certain, my Lord? You do not even know me. You may come to find that my company irritates you something fierce. And I cannot imagine your family will approve of you bringing me into their home."
"Nothing would make me happier than to bring you home." His smile shines with covetous sincerity.
She thinks how strange it is that this lord wants her for a pet already. She was never kept as one before, she hadn't been a Paramour long enough for a patron to claim her as one. She knows that her place in his home would not be among the household but among the servants, she would only be there to be at his beck and call. The idea doesn't bother her, in fact, she rather likes it. There's something about him, something about the way he spoke just now, commanding her to go with him, to stay with him… Her darkness craves him. He had woken it with his touch, the viciousness of his grip, the savageness of his bite, his unrelenting hunger for her. And now nothing will satisfy it but this lord.
4.
In some dark corner of the Divine Plane sits a dark god and his dark goddess…
Loviatar leans back against her Lord Bane, her flowing ashen hair draped over a shoulder as he smooths it, both looking into the shimmering distance when his gruff voice rumbles her,
"It seems you went to the Material Plane for a little visit with our Chosen. You even spoke with mine …" His other hand slides up her arm, over her shoulder to rest heavily at her throat, "What is this deal you've made with him?" His fingers spread, lightly grasping her delicate neck.
"What? It's not like you're using him any more," An icy smile curls her thin lips as she presses back against his broad chest, her fingers digging into his thighs, "He's already conquered all of Toril. Or were you planning on having him start on other worlds? Other realms even?"
"He could do it. He could bring the other realms to heel." An avaricious grin moves to his lips, the thought of his Chosen taking on more thrills him.
"Not anymore. He needs her. Needs her power to fuel his ambition. Instead of dominating the world, he's losing his control over it. Even his hold on Faerun falters… Or do you intend on replacing him? Have you found another you prefer to this monster?" She silently broods, thinking on how a new challenger to Astarion might shatter her precious immortal Chosen's mind, ruining her plans.
"No. Perhaps you are right. He no longer heeds me as he did during his campaigns. Perhaps this ploy of yours will be enough to spur him to action once more." He tangles his hand into her hair, gripping her, forcing her head to turn to him, "Perhaps you had been too hasty, my love, in claiming your prize when you did." The fingers at her neck slide up, pulling down her lower lip briefly.
"You were the one who wanted him to focus and said she was a distraction. It was you who insisted she be removed from the board!" Her fury rises, his insinuation she did anything other than what he desired makes her grow fearsome, her nails now digging into his legs, "He did as you suggested and I played along! I claimed her before she was truly ready!" His grip on her hair grows tighter, waking her love of torment, "Should I have brought her here instead of leaving her there, dangling before his eyes? A constant reminder of what he gave up to please you both? The carrot, should your stick ever lose its appeal?" His eyes darken, gleaming with desire for his spiteful consort, "Shame not all lower beings are motivated by my domains." She whispers, pushing herself further up his chest, his grip in her hair forcing her to look at him still, making her struggle against his control.
"Nor by mine. But a great many of them are, and that is all we need." He watches her lips, hungry for her wrath, "Do you have plans for your Chosen?"
He watches her eyes light up maliciously, her teeth biting into her lip, smiling sadistically,
"I do have something in mind for her, but it must wait. I need her broken again first. I need to savor the sweet taste of her heart shattering anew."
5.
I'll always come for you. You're mine, remember?
That voice again, whispering in her ear, but as soon as she opens her eyes the sound fades to the void and she cannot recall it. Her eyes drift over to the open tent entrance, late morning light drifts in as she lays in his bed still. There's a golden goblet on a tray left by the bed for her: it's blood. When he got out of bed earlier he insisted that she have something, though she felt no real hunger or thirst. She only smiled and assured him she would finish it all, he kissed her at that then readied himself to handle his business. The camp and army must prepare to move again, this day of respite being the last.
Talia rolls to the edge and sits up, grasping the goblet and drinking. It's good, whose ever it is… She's unsure what to think of drinking it, some unknown person's blood. Though she's even less sure if she would prefer to drink directly from the source. The thought of biting someone with the intent to drink their blood is such a foreign concept, made all the worse because she still doesn't know how she awoke this way. A vampire, but one that's unaffected by the sun, none of it makes sense to her. She dips her fingers into the permanent divots at her neck, the place this lord keeps biting her, though she can't feel his fresh punctures… He also has the same scars on his neck, she saw them, was even tempted to touch them, but thought better of it. His scars are just another thing she will leave be. She need not know him to be a good pet, she need only fulfil his desires… so long as he wants her.
But what of her own desires? She can't ignore that her dark need for pain seems to have subsided. Everything he did to her satisfied the darkness; and this new feeling is unknown to her. All her life the darkness only ever called for more and now it feels… satiated. She also feels no need to pray, for she felt Loviatar's blessings while she lay with him. The touch of the divine she only ever felt during her devotions is now bestowed upon her by him… She wants to talk to Ana… or even Davora… but they are gone. There are none left alive who could help her understand what's happening to her.
She finishes what's left in the goblet and looks down at her body. Every mark, every bruise, every bite has vanished. She bears no evidence of his roughness other than smears of her blood she must now clean away. She can only assume it is this vampire's body she now inhabits that erases any new wounds. She cleans herself up and looks around for the cloak. She slides into it, ties it with a bit of her torn gown and bundles the golden chain and lock inside the folds at her waist. Then straightening up she steps out into the bustling camp, walking away from the tent, her eyes searching for something…
A soldier sees her and approaches,
"Is there something you need help with, my Lady?"
She turns to the voice, wondering why he'd call her that,
"Yeah, but I'm no Lady." He narrows his eyes at that but she continues, "I was hoping to find another of the camp followers. I need a favor."
"Another camp follower?" He arches a brow at her.
"Yeah. You've got to have a veritable village following an army this size. So… Can you point me to where they are?"
"Did his grace send you?"
"Who? No. Look, I just need something. Can you tell me where to find them or not?" She grows impatient at his questions. Honestly if he's the type to not indulge that's fine, she just wants to know where they are.
"Well, yes… But you won't make it through the camp looking like that," His eyes drift down the open loose front of the cloak, a lecherous smile spreading over his face, "I could escort you, if you would like." He holds an arm out to her.
"That would be most appreciated." His body language relaxes into something familiar to Talia. She gently places her hand on his proffered arm and thinks he will be wanting a favor for this 'courtesy'. The price of being stranded in the midst of an army's camp. She only mildly worries about the lord not wanting to share his newly claimed prize.
The soldier walks her to the edge of the lines of tents, closer to the forest, continuing towards the back of the camp. His eyes roam over her, focusing in on her almost exposed breasts, licking his lips obnoxiously loud. She lightly scrunches up her face, knowing his kisses would be overly wet, were he to insist on that. A little further still when he takes her hand in his other so that he may pull her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist and whispering in her ear,
"I have not seen you amongst our village of followers…" His breath is hot and tinged with drink.
"No, you wouldn't have," She lets him smell her hair and grip her tightly, "I'm new." He stops at her words, pulling back about to release his hold on her.
"I see you've met one of the officers." Astarion's cold hard voice rumbles behind them.
"My Lord, why are you here?" Talia flinches, startled by him; she would not expect someone of his station to be wandering among the lower ranks.
"Begging for forgiveness, your grace!" The soldier immediately drops his hands from her, bowing deeply, shaking with fear.
Talia looks down at the soldier, the officer, confused as to why he said 'your grace' to the lord, then she looks over at Astarion.
"Why are you here?" His eyes burn with a fury she's never seen in anyone, his words seeping through clenched teeth.
"I do apologize, my Lord. I was in need of something to wear. I was hoping to buy something from one of the other…" She's suddenly unsure if she should say camp followers. She'd been trained to not anger her patrons, but he's shaking with rage and she doesn't know why, "Have I done something to displease you, my Lord?"
"Not yet," He stands before her, towering over her, "How did you intend to pay for what you needed?" His hand slides up the open front of the cloak, over her collar bone to grip her neck, his thumb digging into her scar.
"With this…" She holds out the little chain and lock, "It's all I have that would fetch a price."
"And how were you going to repay him?" His eyes don't even look over at the cowering officer, they stay glued to hers.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to…" His grip on her throat tightens, "…The same way I'm repaying you."
He roars his fury, throwing her to the ground as he grabs the golden chain from her open hands. He pitches it into the forest then reaches down to pull her up by her hair, growling into her ear,
"You're mine! You belong to me!"
He hurts her and she loves it. She wants him to be vicious with her, she wants him to vent his anger on her. She wants him to push her up against the nearest tree and fuck her. He can see her mounting lust darkening her eyes, quickening her breath and he wants her all the more for it, his sweetest treasure and her love of pain.
He finds her clinging to him before he can move to kiss her trembling lips. Her hands shake in their grasp of his coat, pulling him into her. Gods, he wants her desperately. He kisses her, pushing her backwards, into the forest, until she's up against a tree. He lets her free him from his pants before he lifts her up, mounting her against the tree. She wraps her legs around his waist, his hands grasping her ass, holding her up as he thrusts into her. She cums so quickly, whispering into his mouth that she wants more, that she wants it harder. One hand leaves his grip on her to grab the tree, using it to fully pin her, so he can be ruthless. Hard, loud, wet, slapping, grunting, groaning, gasping, moaning, both of them losing themselves in the ferocity of their fucking. Her fingers dig into his curls as she cries out, cumming again, dragging him with her to their little deaths.
Disclaimer about D&D lore:
I think that a lot of the locations I'm using are ruins or are otherwise uninhabitable, but it's been 1000 years in my silly little story. I'm just going to pretend that Astarion restored the once famed cities to the opulence of their glory days and are once again the envy of the world. So now when he travels, he has fancy places to stay and play. Also, I'm not going to dwell on technology and how it might have changed, it's perpetually some strange amalgamation of medieval, renaissance and industrial age nonsense. A friend suggested maybe a touch of steampunk sort of vibes, so I went with that a bit too. I am not well versed in the lore of D this is just me googling a map of Faerun that had hexagon tiles so I could calculate distances and had cities on there. The only other thing I think I got right is that the planet is called Toril, and the continent is called Faerun. I also don't know how planes, realms and gods work in D I'm just making it up as I go. This was all me googling these topics and only reading the wikis for them, not understanding a lot because it's so complicated and has changed a lot over the years. I'm basing my story off of what I could kind of understand, I apologize if it's all wrong. Just ignore me and my silly story if I break too much D&D lore for you to enjoy this.