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"Stay right there, Little One, you hear me?"

Little one?

A voice peeled out from behind me, but when I tried to turn, my body cried out at the sudden movement, black spots appearing before my eyes. Slowly, idiot. I groaned and blinked hard, keeping my eyes closed for a moment. All I'd seen of my new company was a flash of white hair, something particularly pointy in their hands and a purple tunic. I think. Or had it been blue? Whatever. I had company and they didn't seem keen on pleasantries.

"That rather means, do not move." They continued, stalking closer, though I only knew that by the voice approaching. I couldn't seem to hear their steps at all. Sneaky little shit, then. Alright.

"Can't anyway, so you can quit the pissy tone." I groaned and opened my eyes again, the spots having receded and only a little blurriness remaining. "You just passing by and thought you'd rob a wreckage? Low."

"Passing by? Hardly." They scoffed at me, now very close, a small movement sounding before a point grazed near my throat, hovering over a rather important artery. Knew what they were doing clearly. "I saw you on the ship. So I want to know exactly what's been done to me. What have you and those tentacled freaks done? It was all a lie, wasn't it? You figured it out I guess, I realise you'll have your reasons but–"

"Wait!" I snarled, his words crashing into one another in my mind, making no sense at all.

I shivered from head to toe. The image slammed into my skull like I'd been smacked with a rock; long spindled fingers ending in purpled claws, soulless orange eyes staring at me like a piece of meat, the wriggling worm– Nope. I stared at my shoes and did my best to convince myself I was imagining that squirming sensation behind my eyes.

A growl sounded by my ear, the point pressing to my skin. "Answer me!"

"Does it look like I'm in cahoots with those fuckwads?" I snarled, ignoring the point and turning to this idiot with my teeth bared.

They had the decency to waver at least; red eyes flickering over me uncertainty, glaring brow softening just a smidge, but pale lips still set in a tight grimace. Pointed ears. Presumably at least half elf or more – though the length of them indicated High Elf lineage. Incredibly pale too. Spoke like they'd always had a silver spoon in their mouth, but then again, an accent could hide a lot too.

I wished my shivering would stop. "I'm as much a freed prisoner as you. Yes, you saw me on there, but what was I doing? Giving them a lap dance? Or…?"

Red eyes scanned me again and there was a long pause, before a sigh escaped the now relaxed mouth and they stepped back. The knife remained ready though. "You have a point."

"Do I? Oh goody." I ran my hands through my hair. "I also have one fucker of a headache, not helped by being accused by a fellow prisoner. I'm just trying to unscramble my own thoughts, and it's easier without a knife in my face. So then, who the hells are you? Who's been holding the knife to me this whole time?"

It glinted in the sunlight but lowered a little. I guess that counted as manners. Those bright eyes scanned me with something like expectation, but as I stared back blankly, it faded into something else. Surprise? Confusion? I couldn't be sure. They stared for a few seconds, and then the look was gone. Mask back in place, I guess.

They dipped into a bow. "Astarion, and he apologises for the misunderstanding."

I nodded and got myself to my feet, wavering a little but finding myself steady enough. His ruby eyes kept scanning me, likely checking if I had a weapon, not that I'm sure where he'd expect me to be hiding one in this rather lacking get-up of a ripped black undershirt and poorly stitched black leather trousers. Wait… What the hells was I wearing? And why was I surprised by it? In fact… wait…

Oh.

Shit…

And just like that, it was as if the ground had fallen away from beneath my feet.

Before Avernus, where had I been? On the ship, I guess. But before that. I had the sense of being somewhere else, of being taken by that awful ship with its bastard tentacled inhabitants. But I didn't know where that somewhere was. A street, maybe? I wasn't even sure who I had been with. It felt like it had been dark, raining maybe? No. It had been warm. Not Avernus warm, just mild, pleasant even. I'd been… Hidden? Not sure. But beyond that… Shit… Who the hells even was I? The word Avernus came to me easily enough, as does Faerun, High Elf, Knife, all that shit. So why do I know nothing about myself? Why was everything else so… blank?

"Hello?" Astarion haughtily implored from next to me, rather helpfully jolting me from my panic inducing spiral. "I asked for your name, be so kind as to actually respond?"

"I uh… Right, yes, sorry, my name." I looked down at my hands, my pale hands. Not as pale as this guy Astarion, I had a kind of honeyed tone underneath. But I was drawing a blank on everything else. What the hell did I even look like?

He scoffed. "Good grief, how hard did you hit your head?"

"Give me a second would you, for fuck's sake." I snapped, voice wavering towards the end as that panic clogged my throat.

And he did that much at least. Those eyes were still on me, thinking fuck knows what, but that didn't really matter. I drew in a deep breath. Alright. Pale skin, with a honeyed undertone, so either I'd been out of the sun for a long time, or maybe I was ill? Possibly. My hair shifted in front of my face, though only slightly, it was short and apparently it's black. I'm shorter than this Astarion guy and I guess pretty slight in build… No tail either. Ears? I made it look as much like I was trying to smooth my appearance as possible, while checking for the shape. Alright, I think I'm a High Elf as well.

"You really don't know?"

My nerves prickled, readying to snap back at his question, but the tone caught in my throat. His words hadn't been a scoff, or an accusation. It was a genuine question. I glanced at him and found those piercing eyes a little softer for a split second, before narrowing again and looking me over like a trap to be disarmed. A fleeting moment, but there had been a slice of empathy almost. I think.

I swallowed hard. "Seems n-not. Shit. What the hells is going on?"

"I'm not sure. But you don't seem to be lying."

"Why the hells would I lie about this?" I rolled my eyes but he had that look again, the distrust, as if I might have something to gain by fooling him with all this. How could I benefit from fooling a stranger? Idiot. Clearly, this Astarion guy had a big chip of paranoia on his shoulder. For whatever reason.

"Very well," he stepped back again. "I sympathise with your plight, but in all honesty I don't have time to babysit an amnesiac little elf who's down on her luck. So I'll be going."

"I didn't ask you to babysit, didn't ask you to do shit. You came asking me for information, remember? You're about as lost as I am, Pretty Boy, you just happen to know your damn name and what you look like."

Something else crossed his expression, but I couldn't read it before it had vanished again. He was quick. Or right now I was particularly slow. The waves crashed nearby, and the wind shifted so we were spared a few breaths of smoke. I looked around, grabbed the nearest piece of rock that looked vaguely knife shaped and started along the nearest path, the stones biting through my flimsy excuses for shoes.

He laughed haughtily. "And where do you suppose you're going?"

"Getting out of your oh-so-important way." I kept walking without looking back. If this was Faerun, then all I had to do was follow the river back to Baldur's Gate. For fuck's sake why did I know that and not who I am, how old I am or anything of the sort? Shitting hells.

"You say you don't need a babysitter, and yet–"

Oh he was good. He had snuck up on me perfectly, that knife gave him one hell of an advantage as well, but that need to gloat was going to get him into trouble. In fact, it already had.

I ducked, turned, punched out hard. As he went 'oof!' backwards for that split second, the wind knocked from his lean body, I brought a knee up, sent him toppling and pinned him to the rocky path with the same knee. My hands shot out, one for his throat, another claiming the knife from his grip. My stone was forgotten.

And something else was remembered.

Something dark.

Something strong.

A strange urge brewed in the base of my belly, a hunger to see that pale flesh stained red, like the first sunrise on a winters morning, the sunlight splashing crimson over fresh blankets of snow. Shit. It would be beautiful. Stunning. I wanted to see it. Needed to see it. Shit…. Where the hell did that come from? He was annoying, yes, infuriating even and clearly only out for himself, but he hadn't actually butchered me. Why did my body yearn to do so to him? The fuck was this worm in my head doing to me? Or… was that just me?

He struggled against me, baring his slightly pointed teeth. Interesting. "Release me."

"I didn't say I didn't need a babysitter, to be clear, I said I didn't 'ask'." I tilted my head. "You approached me, you have now attacked me, and now you're making demands? Bit of a shit, aren't you, Astarion?"

He wriggled again. "Alright you've made your point! I was only trying to make mine, goodness."

I held for another moment. "Oh? And what was your point?"

He eyed me and the blade.

I stayed still. "I'm listening."

"Alright… My point was going to be that perhaps you could use a second pair of eyes to watch out for things, just like I could. One is used to going it alone, but considering the circumstances, that might be unwise. Or do you happen to know where we are? Where you can find some decent clothes or even a weapon that's more than an angry pebble?"

A smile prickled along my lips. "I've got your knife now."

He rolled his eyes. "Clearly not your weapon of choice."

Good instincts. And when it came down to it, as much as he was clearly a self-serving bastard, he was also correct. We needed help. Even if we were stuck getting that from the likes of each other for now. I studied him for a moment. He wore a mask, clearly, and it seemed like it had been in place longer than this current situation. That could be useful. It also couldn't be trusted. Those little flickers I'd failed to read also indicated he knew more than he was letting on – not necessarily about me or not, but about something. Still, right now we seemed to be in a similarly bad situation and he seemed pragmatic. Alright.

I got up and offered him my free hand. He eyed me, and the knife still in my grasp, though now angled away from him. A few seconds went by, my empty hand still aloft for his decision. He huffed, smirked and clasped it to get to his feet. Cold skin as well. This guy had secrets of his own.

I held out the knife and he blinked at it, pale eyebrows shooting upwards. "Now that is trusting."

"No, it's practical. I'd rather you have it and know how to use it effectively. No doubt we'll find something around here that's more suited to me. Whatever the fuck that is." I then pressed the knife into his hand. "Plus, I've already taken you down with an angry pebble. I'm not too worried."

"Confident as well." He concealed the weapon. "So I know you're forgetful, confident and skilled in a tussle… But I still don't have a name for you, darling."

"Right." I smoothed myself down. "Call me… uh…"

Again those brows lifted. "Not even that comes back to you? Interesting."

"Mm, fascinating." I pinched the bridge of my nose and then shrugged. "What colour are my eyes?"

He peered closer, his own shown to be not just red but a deep burgundy around the outside. His smirk spread a little wider, those pearled teeth peeking out for a moment. "Pale hazel, almost gold in this light. Hazel, then?"

It didn't fit right in my mind. I looked down as he continued to hold my gaze a little too long – this guy was clearly used to using those good looks to get what he wanted. And as pretty a thing as I could agree him to be, I wasn't about to be swayed. Guess I'm stubborn as well as everything else.

"You called me an amnesiac elf, why not Amne?"

He looked to the side, his lips moving around the word slowly before a momentary prick of the corners upwards and then a nod. "Seems fitting to me. How does it feel, Amne?"

"Much better. Alright," I held out my hand to him. "Astarion, let's travel together for now and figure some of this shit out. Deal?"

"Deal, Amne." He took my hand and we shook firmly.

Had I just made a good choice? I guess only time would tell…

Next time... Astarion POV incoming! Hope you enjoyed, cheers for reading!