A/N: My take on the party's (specifically Astarion and Tav's) encounter with Abdirak. I tweaked some things in the name of artistic liberty. Please don't hold it against me lol
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Rain fall, gentle and light, began to trickle down from an overcast sky. Rumblings of a distant storm drawing nearer, the brooding gray of the clouds turned black the further along the horizon they reached. Astarion could taste it on the damp air as sure as he could smell it; the aroma of petrichor, rivaled only by the stench of blood. And smoke.
As threatening as the storm promised, he knew that even once it rolled in, it would pale in comparison to the one they had all just witnessed. The one that was Sabine herself.
"Well that got the blood pumpin', that's for sure." Karlach placed a foot on the auburn goblin beneath her, wrenching the edge of her axe from his skull. Cracked and sunken in at the sight of impact like a rotten pumpkin, the bit dislodged from the pulpy flesh with a sickening crunch.
Face twisted in a grimace, Astarion wiped the flat of his dagger against the last goblin he had felled. The corpses of his brethren littered around them, wallowing in the blood and mire that saturated the dirt, just as they had in life.
He granted that particular goblin an un-due mercy by ending him with a single, clean cut to the jugular. Before Sabine got to him first. Dropping to his knees, he was dead before he hit the ground. Spared from the fate that befell many of the others.
The fate of blistering electrocution from the inside out.
Patches of burnt grass and scorched earth streaked through the muck where she had called down her tempestuous wrath. She was in rare form, and he'd be lying if he said it wasn't a sight to behold.
Her petite frame buzzed with the energy of an unbridled storm. The roar of thunder reverberated throughout the trees, and shook the ground beneath their feet with her every cry. Lightning coursed through her veins. She commanded gale force gusts, and wielded the crackling bolts like whips.
The little sorceress exuded turbulence, and they all gave her a wide berth. None in their group had seen her angry before. A sword they were all keen not to fall on, each looked to the other for proper procedure. Her rage recognized.
Astarion hazarded a glance in her direction. She was preoccupied with studying her palms, and pointedly avoiding his scarlet gaze.
He surmised he may have been the culprit behind her mood.
Sparking filament still coiled around her dainty wrists, and arced between her fingertips. Karlach aimed a sidelong look at the intimidating discharge that had yet failed to dissipate.
"You uh, alright, Sab?" She tossed her chin towards the weeping slice across her exposed bicep. A convenience that afforded her the opportunity to ask, without prodding what they were all taking great care to dance around.
Sabine looked down at her bleeding arm with a lifted brow. It was clear she had only noticed the injury once it was pointed out. Clenching her fists, the lightning fizzled. She forced her pout into a tight smile. "Never better."
Astarion cringed. He knew a great liar, she was not. She could be as persuasive as the best of them, but the art of deception was his alone.
It could have been convincing, had she not just unleashed hellacious fury in the form of fulmination moments prior. And on some meager underlings, no less.
Karlach's suspicion persisted as the little sorceress politely excused herself.
Shadowheart was tending Wyll behind him, to whom he suspected she was en route. He intercepted all the same. Her stride brisk but her eyes lowered, he side-stepped in time for her to connect with his chest.
The small collision startled her out of her thoughts. Seeing who it was she walked into, with a noncommittal eye-roll, she grumbled an apology that he ignored. He instead regarded her with a suave smirk.
"You poor thing, that must sting something awful." He cooed, the heady scent of her blood now overwhelmed him with her proximity. He licked his lips none too eagerly. "Shall I have a look?"
She stared up at him for what felt like an eternity. As was typical, the heterochromatic orbs would flit across his face, seeking the hidden meaning she believed to be buried beneath his careful facade. But not this time. Her expression was blank. Sabine just looked at him, instead of directly into him.
It stirred an odd sense of disappointment in him. One that was further stoked when she broke the silence with a tired; "no, thank you."
His charm faltered, as if struck.
No?
"No."
Astarion blinked. Only with her reiteration was he then aware he had breathed that aloud. She doubled down, merciless.
"I don't think I can state it more clearly than that." She sighed, un-amused even with her own snapping wit. "Shall I try?"
Hm. Still sore, I see.
A shame. He was quite confident he could weaken her knees by gathering her in his arms by her middle, and tracing the split skin with the tip of his tongue. A perfect combination of both compassion and perversion, the high success rate of which he now had first hand experience.
Nonetheless, he was tickled by her attempted sass. Clicking his tongue, he couldn't help but retort in kind. "You wear your heart on your sleeve, little sorceress."
Anger veined like lightning throughout her caramelized irises. "You should be thanking me, then. Seeing as how that makes your job all the easier." Her words blunt, her tone reliably direct. But scorned all the same.
It had only been a few days since that fateful evening in the Underdark. When he had struck first blood, and left her in what he thought was an advantageous position. Primed for his ultimate possession.
Every night since he had been back to feed, of course. Both of his appetites, as well as indulge in her own.
Astarion had seemingly roused her sexuality from dormancy. Upon each visit to her tent, her desires were as rampant as her curiosity. The little sorceress was an eager study to the intimidating breadth of his experience.
And every night he came for her, the look of hope alight in her lustful gaze was enough to break his heart. Hope that he might finally have her, fully and completely, all while he continued to dangle it before her nose.
Still, he refrained from crossing that line.
All by his design. Each time he gave her only a taste. Just enough to ensure her cooperation for the next night, to see her even more starved for him than the last. A gamble to be certain, but one he risked only because of his confidence.
Confidence, it now seemed, she was intent to challenge.
Their previous evenings' rendezvous proved to be the tipping point. Her patience, and generosity, lost to the imbalance. The subsequent source of her temper.
He let himself inside her tent before the sun finished setting, in hopes of catching her off guard. Their camp enveloped in a golden, dreamlike haze.
"There you are, my little darling." He purred, stalking forward to close the distance between them. "I was hoping you'd be ready for me. I'm itching for a taste of you, and I don't just mean your blood."
Her freckled cheeks blossomed with color.
Not long after Astarion found himself between her legs, forcing her thighs still with bruising strength as he descended. All lips and tongue, and playful scrapes of his fangs.
A keening groan bubbled from her throat in frustration. Her fingers pulling at his lustrous white locks like reigns. "Weren't you ever taught not to play with your food?"
"I just can't seem to help myself." He grinned, nuzzling into her slick folds. His hot breath misting against her.
"Then what are you waiting for?" She pushed from deep in her chest. Fighting to speak, struggling to breath. Wound so tightly by his limber tongue, she felt one more flick would cause her to burst.
Irrefutable proof of your devotion, he thought.
"Patience, little love." He said instead, eye lids heavy. "It wouldn't serve either of us to be hasty. Lest you do something you'll soon grow to regret."
Irrefutable proof he knew was so close, he could almost taste it.
Timidness, sensitivity, her submission. All behaviors Astarion expected.
Raw anger he did not.
And here I thought the anticipation made for more romance.
She put on a brave face, and had done well in keeping it steady up until that point. She hadn't spurned his presence, though she was certainly not dazzled by it either. His interactions with Sabine were not without the politeness and refinement he had grown accustomed to receiving, their freshly budding intimacy aside. But she had withdrawn some, the full extent of which only just becoming clear to him.
Held together by a thread, their encounter with the goblins at the main gates to the temple saw it snapped. Slight as their provocation was, it was enough.
The dam burst. Her rage materialized in a thundering bolt that she struck down in the middle of a trio of goblins. The three who had been the most brutal in their heckling, she ended them all in less time then it took for her to produce the searing flash.
Unwilling to allow him the opportunity for another antagonistic remark, she skirted passed him and walked on in wordless dismissal. A faint whiff of jasmine and violet lingered in the space she had occupied.
Astarion sheathed his dagger, his strong brows furrowed. A hiccup to be sure, but nothing he couldn't smooth over. His expertise in seduction unparalleled, he'd woo her once more, in time.
Seems as though I've struck quite the nerve. I can make better use of it, now that I know it's there.
He realized his continued thoughts of manipulation, and her learned exploits, were a distraction from his genuine displeasure. And a weak one, at that.
Displeasure from how cold she had become to him. And how that displeased him so.
A mere triviality. He reaffirmed to himself. A hindrance so minor it's not even worth noting.
Sabine's disillusionment was something he could fix. She'd be subdued, and fawning again. Soon enough.
Once everyone regrouped, their injuries seen to and bearings collected, they headed onward. Though they moved as a group, all six were not without their reservations.
The heart of the hordes operations were just a short trek ahead of them, in the formerly abandoned Temple of Selûne. It stood erect and foreboding in the distance, despite decades of elemental decay, if not longer. And it's destructive new loiterers.
"I maintain my stance that Halsin seems the likeliest to be of use, however variable." Shadowheart declared to no one in particular as they approached. "At least the likeliest of all our leads thus far. We'll go in, and get him out. Everything else is inconsequential."
"We should be so lucky for it to play out that smooth." Gale volunteered, and none too grimly. "These goblins are as quarrelsome as they are slovenly."
Astarion had his own unease about their presence at the goblin camp. He didn't feel at all inclined to smite them on the groves behalf, a sentiment he was most assuredly alone in.
Their lack of a structured plan, and venturing forth blindly, had him bristling with restlessness. It wasn't their affair to meddle in. On top of it all, he now had Sabine's insolence to contend with. The threat of a migraine loomed at the base of his skull.
A far cry from how I had hoped I would spend this day.
Wyll and Shadowheart lead, while he and Gale brought up the rear. Sabine stayed close to Karlach, never once looking back over her shoulder at him, no matter how insistent his penetrative gaze.
Gale observed to the best of his discretion. Looking first at Astarion, and then to an uncharacteristically disinterested Sabine. Curious, but he refrained from commenting all the same.
They covered the remaining distance in short-lived silence.
The cacophony of hollering and chanting from the goblin hive was second in disorientation only to their odor. Each an offense to the senses that struck well before even a single one of them came into view.
He didn't find himself in agreement with Gale often, but when he did, it was absolute. He could never resist the allure of debauchery, but the bombardment of their utter filth was most unwelcome.
Disgust furrowing his brow and wrinkling his nose, he did a quick sweep of the scene before him. So raucous he could barely hear his own thoughts.
He then looked for Sabine, as was his habit whenever they found themselves anywhere outside of camp. Necessitated by her knack for disappearing without a word. To his relief, however faint, she was still among them. And with her back still up at him.
Perhaps this is one place where I won't have to keep such a close eye on her after all. The small victories will have to suffice.
And there, in the middle of it all, was Volo. Doing his best to serenade the crowd whilst fearing for his life. Astarion shook his head.
He almost wished he could get drunk, if he didn't disapprove so strongly of the company.
"There must be someone here who knows something." Shadowheart spoke low, taking care where she stepped. "And I caution we all mind our presence here. Draw as little attention to ourselves, and our line of questioning, as possible."
The lot of them maneuvered the throng of goblins and bugbears alike. Most all were too intoxicated, or too enthralled with their revelry to take notice of the group. Or to care.
"Back at the grove, Sazza spoke of their Priestess Gut in high enough regard." Wyll's hand, while lax in it's grip, had yet to lift from the hilt of his blade. "It might behoove us to seek her out."
"I'm disinclined to rely on her cooperation," Gale almost tripped over a goblin passed out in the middle of the walk, phlegmy snores ripping from his throat. Catching himself, he stepped over him. "I suspect any engagement with her might turn messy, given how fanatical these Absolute-fearing types, especially in high positions, have proven."
Astarion did he best to focus on the task at hand, to voice his opinion on the matter. However he couldn't help but find himself distracted by the little sorceress, and her unbearable silence.
All of them continued their charade of ignorance about her outward contempt. Save for Karlach, of course, who couldn't seem to let it lay.
She joked and jabbed, and each time saw Astarion bracing himself for fear that it would eventually set her off. And that eruption, in turn, would ignite the hostility of the entire camp.
Yet after failing to elicit even a small smile, she ceased, opting to at long last give her some space.
Falling alongside him, both he and Karlach watched as Sabine moved amongst the crowd with deliberate, and guarded movement. Her signature doe-eyed approachability stripped in favor of a stoic edge that didn't at all suit her.
"She seems right foul." Karlach remarked, before she then shifted her attention to him. After a moment, as if the answer was right in front of her all along, she groaned loudly in accusation. "Oh, what'd'you do?"
Astarion scoffed, weak and without mirth. At the ready to defend himself dishonestly, he was interrupted by the yapping of a cocky goblin that Sabine caught the attention of.
They all, Sabine included, halted. Paying more mind to the little cretin than what was owed.
"Yeah, that's right half-breed, I mean you!" Puffing out his chest with a cluster of others goading him on, he sneered. "Yer no more than dirt under my feet, is what you are."
Everyone remained quiet, but braced. Astarion's hackles raised.
Without missing a beat, the tiny half-elf smoothed her hands over the front of her skirts, and sniffed.
"Charming." She summoned a tight-lipped smile, ready to take her leave. "I'll just be on my way, then."
"Not so fast!" He growled. "Y'think you and yer lot can waltz on through 'ere as you please? You need to learn yer place."
Everyone poised at the ready to intervene, to deescalate the situation. Sabine piped up before any were given the chance to so much as step between them.
"And what place is that?"
"On yer hands'n'knees." He flashed a lascivious grin. Full of himself, even for a goblin. "Kissin' my foot."
Astarion stiffened. His rational side urged him to step forward, grab her by the arm, and pull her away. But the side of him that knew how to have a good time delighted in the idea of her lighting up the worm, the rest of the camp be damned.
A little chaos goes a long way, and we're all in dire need of that change of pace.
"Come, Sabine." Shadowheart cut in with the initiative to diffuse, taking half a step towards her. "We've more pressing matters to attend to."
The little sorceress didn't budge. Staring down the goblin with her arms crossed and her weight shifted to one hip, when she addressed him her tone was equal parts bored, and irritated.
"I beg your pardon." More akin to a demand than it was a request, Astarion's smirk grew.
He had never seen her so short-tempered with another being, save for now himself.
Skeptical, of course. At times distrusting. But this was an entirely unique experience. He was certain he was the only one among them that was excited to watch the scene unfold.
"Kiss my foot, swine." He barked, pointing down to the appendage, as if she needed the visual aid. "Or I'll carve yer pretty little face."
Rocking to his toes, Astarion was unable to wipe the grin from his face, even if he tried. He could read her well, and from the firm set to her posture, he knew she was toeing the precipice of her patience. She just needed a little nudge. His silence might implicate him, after all.
"Well, go on, give him a nibble."
The words slipped through his lips before he could help it. Karlach's glare bore into him, fiery and incredulous.
Sabine's head snapped around to lock eyes with him, at last, her ponytail whipping violently. He could hardly contain his amusement, spurred on by the irresistible temptation of prodding her. To incite more of her thunderous hell.
The impish glimmer in his gaze was encouraging. Insistent. The blaze in hers just shy of murderous. The warm and gooey splotches of honey she had for eyes boiled. Daring him to continue. To dip in for a taste of scalding sugar.
He relished it.
That's it, darling. Give me more.
"Gods you're worse than a child! Must you instigate everything?" Karlach whispered furiously at him from out of the corner of her mouth.
"Yes." He whispered back, acquiescent. "I must."
Neither of them able to tear their eyes away for even a moment.
Before the look Sabine aimed his way could turn truly grave, the goblin grabbed her ear again. He nearly spit at her in his impatience. "I'm not gonna tell ya again, runt."
He couldn't see her face, but he could almost hear her gaze narrow in tandem with her sharpening tongue.
"Why don't you kneel, and kiss my foot."
Though she was barely double his height, and the only thing frightful about her was just how adorable she was, her intimidation in that moment was palpable. Not to mention surreal.
He felt the collective, withheld breath of all four of their other companions. Astarion was giddy.
Full of surprises, this one.
The goblin spluttered, taking a step back from her in mounting cowardice. She pursued him, stalking forward and closing the distance he scrambled to put between them. "That shouldn't be too difficult for you, being you find me so pretty."
Astarion felt his chest tighten in a flush of heat, overflowing with approval. The little sorceress was exacting dominance, and he was captivated by the display.
How pleasantly unexpected. I shall have to stir this delicious temper of hers more often.
He would have egged her on further, if he didn't know when to quit when he was barely scraping by. And more importantly still, when he didn't find himself within Karlach's swing radius.
In a stab at retaliation, the goblin began to snarl back at her until she cut him off.
"I. Said. Kneel." Her command stern, not a hint of leniency or room for negotiation. Sabine didn't so much as raise her voice. She didn't have to. She gave life to the phrase eyes like daggers. Always so endearing and sweet, they were now the fiercest he had even see them.
Like the calm before a storm, she was eerily still, and quiet, while she waited. His obedience expected. Astarion practically purred.
Though she be but little, she is fierce.
The goblin's eyes darted from side to side, seeking the support of his allies, but none were willing to step forward. They merely stood and observed. Knowing he could stall no longer, his grimy maw rippled over jagged teeth in protest. A last act of defiance. He then dropped to his knee, and planted his palms at either side of her boot.
As hasty as it was non-committal, the goblin bowed to the petite, assertive half-elf's demands.
Sabine stepped away before he made it back to his feet. Spinning on her heel, dismissing him without a word as he slunk back among his cohorts, glowering all the while. A sneer of disgust twisted her lips, finding just that hint of power to be unpalatable.
How unfortunate, that. Seeing her behave with such superiority was absolutely divine.
His body reacted in turn. It was so unlike her to hold herself so assured with authority, to put someone in their place.
After taking a few deep breaths to ground herself, she at last faced him. A brief flicker of that innocent half-elf he knew so well, when their eyes locked she was quick to snuff it out. He felt his lips curve into a grin of satisfaction.
"Well, well, that certainly got my blood pumping." Thoroughly amused, he cocked his head down at her. "I don't suppose you could be persuaded for an encore?"
"How did I know you'd approve." She scoffed, but it was not without some genuine amusement. "You're becoming rather predictable, Astarion. I'm almost disappointed."
She meant to insult him. How precious. Astarion merely smiled. That nerve is still tender.
Still unwilling to meet his eyes, he was unperturbed from dropping his own. They fixed on her during the height of her confrontation, and on her they remained.
"The same cannot be said for you, little sorceress. You're coming along quite nicely." Reaching forward to pinch her cheek, his grasp was evaded by a well-timed jerk of her head. He chuckled, cutting his losses gracefully. "I never expected you had it within you to be so... domineering." He rolled the compliment around his tongue, savoring its taste. "It was nothing short of breathtaking."
She gave him a flat look. "Is your arrogance so monstrous that you truly believe this was done so that I might please you?"
His grin was as saccharine as it was wide. "My dear girl, if not for me, then who?"
Laying it on as thick as honey, it only served to reignite the molten blaze within her. If smoke burst from her pointed ears, he wouldn't have been the least bit surprised, able to the her gears squealing behind her narrowed eyes. Certain she had something particularly biting to launch back at him, she was forced into a cease fire as Karlach bounded over to them.
"That was wicked!" The tiefling seemed as gleeful as Astarion. "Imagine if you let a little of your lightning spark, eh? Could've had him clucking like a chicken, I reckon."
Sabine waved, grateful for her interruption. "He was all bark, nothing more to it than that."
A weary sigh escaped him.
Of course she up and spoils it with her modesty. How typical.
"And a distraction. A needless one." Shadowheart added, ever the reliable pragmatic. "Need I remind you we're not here to squabble with the likes of him. Our time is precious, and I advise against wasting any more of it. Let us press on."
The Sharran didn't wait for any of them before she spun on her heel towards the sanctum. The rest were quick to follow, leaving Sabine and Astarion alone once more.
With an exaggerated flourish, he bowed, motioning for her to go ahead of him. Rolling her eyes with a heavily nauseated sigh, her stride carried by energetic clicks of her heels.
Watching her retreating figure in a moment of shameless appreciation, he then trailed after her, his signature haughtiness reinvigorated.
Perhaps this day is not lost after all.
-
The sanctum pulled them in with nefarious greed. The atmosphere inside was decidedly different than out on the grounds; the sloppiness and merriment replaced with tension, and urgency.
Astarion eyed the dank and decrepit structure with disdain. The humidity already settling against his exposed skin in a greasy film, carrying with it the groans and cries of far off torment. The bleakness and impending dread made for an uncomfortable familiarity he did his best to ignore.
A wail of agony echoed off the masonry into his twitching ear, prickling the skin at the back of his neck. Someone was being tortured not far from where they stood. His nostrils flared in a tentative inhale, and with it came the musk of blood tainted by fear, and fatigue.
Better them than me. He stole a deep breath, careful to do so when there weren't any eyes on him. Drawing reinforcement, he summoned his mantra: That life is behind me now.
Every morning that he awoke free of Cazador's grasp was a triumph. A triumph that saw those marionette strings weakened, a little more each day.
Weakened, but not severed. At least not yet.
"I suggest we split up, more ground will be covered that way." Shadowheart shared in his discomfort, eyeing the statues of Selûne wearily. "The sooner we put this place behind us, the better. I've no desire to linger."
And so their little group dispersed. Their even number making for tidy pairs, it was not the first time that the six had splintered for the sake of efficiency. Karlach and Wyll remained inseparable, one always opting for the other's company when given the chance. Gale's aptly timed banter served to complement Shadowheart's severity well enough.
And then there were two.
He naturally kept close to Sabine's side, her presence ever pleasing to his eye, and ego alike. Yet when he looked to her, he found empty space where she used to be. Slipping away without a sound, in the second he allowed her to stray from his peripheral. The vein in his temple spasmed, the threat of his migraine rearing.
"Ugh, Gods." His hands fell to his hips. Foolish of him to think he could loosen his grip on her leash, even a little. He swiped at the air, dismissing the knowing and expectant looks he received from his companions. "I know, I know. I'm already gone." He sighed, stalking off in her surmised direction.
She left a faint trail of night-blooming jasmine and blue violet behind. Following her fragrance, it lead him a short enough distance away, down the middle of three corridors. Upon hearing her voice, the force of his exhaled relief surprised him.
At least she had the decency to stay relatively close by.
Rounding the corner in her direction, though he doubted she'd be able to hear, he couldn't help but muse aloud to her.
"Darling, I think it's high time we revisit our conversation about fastening that little bell around your neck-,"
He found her at the opposite end of the short hall, and in the company of another man. Astarion squinted. A man, whose morbid garb he recognized.
The nearer to them he drew, did the pungency of sweat and stale blood strengthen. His eye then caught sight of the restraints that dangled from the wall opposite them.
All the pieces clicked into place, his suspicions confirmed.
Oh good Gods. Of all the wolf dens for her to wander into.
Sabine said something he strained, and failed, to hear. The man smiled. Amiable, and welcoming. Astarion reached them just in time for his reply.
"Pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn't you agree?"
