Night had swallowed the world outside the cave, wrapping everything in darkness and the relentless patter of rain. Astarion leaned against the cool stone, his gaze fixed on Ashara, who sat huddled by the fire, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Flickers of light danced over her face, illuminating the faint tremors that shook her frame. Her teeth chattered softly, her shoulders hunched against the chill that the fire couldn't quite chase away.

A whirlwind of emotions stirred within him. He'd never known anyone quite like her - a creature capable of unspeakable violence much like him, and yet at the same time full of earnestness and genuine kindness. He found it hard to believe what she was, looking so small and vulnerable as she sat there, eyes distant, likely replaying memories she wished she could silence.

A part of him believed her assurances, the way she'd looked him in the eye and offered him her friendship, but doubt lingered. Friendship, while meaningful, didn't guarantee loyalty. Friends could be abandoned, discarded, betrayed.

Lovers, though - lovers were harder to throw away. Bonds forged in intimacy and desire had a way of holding fast, of anchoring people together even when logic dictated otherwise.

The idea of seducing her had already taken root in Astarion's mind, a familiar strategy he had honed over centuries. With Durge, it had been a calculated move that failed to yield results. But with Ashara, things might be different.

She was inexperienced, painfully so, and the thought of exploiting that innocence sent a twinge of guilt through him - a sensation he was not accustomed to entertaining. He pushed it down with practiced ease. Survival was paramount, and his charm was a weapon like any other.

Still, her history gave him pause. Her past was clearly marred with trauma, and there was no telling how she would react to overt advances, especially given the way she had loosed her wolf form on the bandits. If he misstepped, that side of her might not see him as part of the pack anymore. It might see him as prey. Astarion decided he would tread carefully. Slowly, gently. There was no need to rush.

Ashara's shivering broke his train of thought, her small, involuntary movements a reminder of her need for warmth. He recalled how she always huddled close to Onyx, seeking comfort in the direwolf's presence. An idea unfurled in his mind, almost against his will, and he sighed internally. Well, no time like the present.

Rising to his feet, Astarion walked to her side, sitting down in the space next to her and extending his cloak with one arm. She glanced up, surprise flickering in her eyes as she looked at him.

"My usual temperature isn't quite as cold as a corpse," he said, a slight smirk softening his words. "And, while I may not be a fur-covered wolf, I do have a little body heat to share after feeding... if you want?"

Ashara blinked, the surprise on her face shifting to a cautious gratitude. "Are you sure?"

He gave a theatrical sigh, rolling his eyes with exaggerated patience. "I wouldn't be sitting here with my arm outstretched like a taxidermied duck if I wasn't."

A quiet laugh bubbled from Ashara's lips, softening her guarded posture. Her hesitation melted as she leaned toward him, slowly letting herself relax into his arms. He pulled the cloak around them both, feeling the warmth of her against his chest, the subtle rise and fall of her breath.

Her shoulders were tense at first, but gradually, as minutes passed, her muscles softened. She nestled deeper, her head resting lightly against him, eyes closing as if to shut out the memories still lingering in her mind.

Astarion was surprised to find himself at ease with her so close. He'd expected to feel stifled, even repulsed, by the weight of another pressed against him, yet her presence was... calming.

The fire crackled softly, the only sound between them as Astarion wrestled with his thoughts. He wondered, briefly, if now was the time to begin the slow, careful work of laying the foundation for his plan. A flirtatious remark, a light sensual touch...

But no. Not tonight. They were both worn thin from the events of the day, and he wasn't in the mood to play the part of the charming seducer - especially not after witnessing the sickening performance of the late Cassius.

Instead, he adjusted the cloak slightly, tucking it more securely around her shoulders. Her breathing had grown softer, and he glanced down to see her eyes half-lidded, her expression almost peaceful.

Then, Ashara stirred against his chest, her head tilting up just slightly, her gaze catching his in the dim light.

"Astarion... do you trance or sleep?" she asked softly, her voice curious but tinged with hesitation.

The question surprised him, and he pondered for a moment, his crimson eyes tracing the fire's flickering dance. "Both," he admitted slowly, as though testing the words before giving them shape. "But I tend to favor the peace that total unconsciousness can bring. Trancing may be more beneficial, but I... well..." He hesitated, the words sticking like thorns in his throat. "I've struggled with it ever since I was turned. I find the mental focus needed to reach a meditative state does not come easily these days. Being alone with one's thoughts is... less than ideal."

He shifted, almost instinctively pulling her closer, as if the weight of his thoughts were easier to bear with her warmth against him. "Of course, sleep brings its own risks - unpleasant dreams, mostly. But I prefer the fifty-fifty odds of not having a nightmare over the certainty of intrusive memories."

Glancing down at her, his expression softened despite the shadow that lingered in his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

Ashara fidgeted slightly, her fingers tracing idle patterns against the edge of the cloak. "The wood elves I stayed with for a while were surprised I didn't know how to trance," she said, her voice tinged with a quiet regret. "They explained what it was, but I thought maybe you could teach me how?"

Astarion chuckled lightly, the sound bouncing off the walls in the cave's stillness. "I'm not sure it's something that can be taught," he said. "It's more instinctive - like blinking or breathing. It just... happens."

"Oh..." She sighed softly, her disappointment settling in the space between them. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm only half-elven."

Astarion tilted his chin down, resting it lightly on the top of her head in a gesture that felt oddly natural. He had his suspicions, of course, but the words were tangled somewhere in the maze of his mind. He spoke carefully, almost casually. "Perhaps you should ask Fenrir about that."

Ashara's head jerked up, almost making him bite his tongue as her eyes met his, wide with surprise. "Why would he know?"

Astarion's lips twitched with faint amusement. "Not to put too fine a point on it, darling, but there's a remarkable resemblance between the two of you. At least from the neck up."

She pulled away further, blinking in shock. "There is?"

Astarion leaned back slightly, resting his weight on one hand as he studied her. "What, you've never seen your wolfish reflection before?"

She shook her head, her expression shadowed. "No. And you're the first person apart from Onyx who's ever seen me like that who isn't... well..." Her voice faltered, the words trailing off as discomfort clouded her features.

Astarion finished the thought for her with a wry grin. "...a pile of regurgitated meat and bones?"

She scowled at him but sighed, slumping back against him. "Unfortunately, yes."

He chuckled softly, though there was a faint edge of self-deprecation in his tone as he added, "Well, that's something we have in common then. I've not seen this face either - not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

Ashara tilted her head, curiosity lighting her features. "What color were they before?"

Astarion faltered, the question catching him off guard. A wave of unease washed over him as he tried to dredge up the memory, only to find a void where it should have been. His jaw tightened, and his voice was strained, tinged with fustration. "I... I don't know. I can't remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past."

He turned his gaze to the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes as a mix of sadness and anger welled up within him. "Just one more thing I've lost."

Before he could spiral further, he felt Ashara's arms slide around his torso, tightening in a gesture of comfort. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through his thoughts with surprising clarity. "I'm sorry."

Astarion froze. Her touch, while warm and genuine, sent his mind spinning in too many directions at once. The rising tide of emotion - and the raw vulnerability she seemed to evoke - was too much, and he stiffened, his body instinctively pulling back. Ashara noticed immediately, her arms retreating as she sat up, guilt flashing across her face.

"Sorry!" she blurted. "I forgot you don't like hugs."

The genuine concern in her voice made his chest ache. It was rare for someone to care about his comfort. Usually, it was the other way around - he was the one adapting, pleasing, performing.

Astarion, then raised his arm again, extending the edge of the cloak in silent invitation. "I never actually said I didn't like hugs," he said lightly, his voice carrying a teasing lilt. "I just didn't appreciate the unexpected one from that child."

Ashara's eyes searched his face. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

He nodded toward his outstretched arm, his smirk returning. "Once again, I refer you to the evidence before you."

A gentle smile washed over her face, and she was about to lean back into him when she stopped abruptly, her expression lighting up with an idea. "I could try to describe what you look like if you want," she said eagerly. "And maybe you could do the same for me?"

Astarion blinked, her enthusiasm catching him off guard. He tilted his head, considering the suggestion. "What an interesting idea," he said slowly, the faintest flicker of curiosity sparking in his tone. "Very well, my dear. Let's see how well you can paint a picture with words."

Ashara leaned back, her brow furrowed in an expression of intense focus that made Astarion fight to suppress a smile. She studied him with the kind of scrutiny one might apply to a rare artifact, her sapphire eyes flitting from feature to feature as though committing every detail to memory. He arched a brow, already sensing the performance to come.

"Your hair is silvery white - like moonlight on fresh snow," she started, her hands weaving an invisible tapestry as she spoke. "It curls just slightly, not too tight, not too loose, and frames your face perfectly. Then there's your cheekbones, high and sharp, like - like the edge of a carving knife." She touched her own face to illustrate, drawing lines with her fingers as if sketching his face in the air.

His lips twitched, amusement bubbling in his chest. She was thorough, sparing no detail. The arch of his brows, the sharp slope of his nose, even the exact distance between his eyes - it was all dissected with a precision that bordered on obsessive. At one point, she leaned closer, using her hand to measure proportions between her own features and his.

By the time she finished, sitting back with a look of satisfaction as though she'd just solved some ancient riddle, Astarion was nearly trembling with suppressed laughter. He resisted the sudden urge to pat her head and say, 'Well done.'

Her effort was genuinely impressive, and despite himself, he had to admit she had painted a vivid mental portrait of his face. Still, certain details gave him pause, particularly her mention of subtle signs of aging. Vampires weren't supposed to age, yet the possibility that years of torment under Cazador had etched their mark on him gnawed at his confidence.

"That was... very thorough," he said finally, his tone deliberately dry. He met her gaze with a sly smile. "Now just tell me I'm beautiful, and we can call it a day."

Ashara's face twisted into a puzzled frown, and for a fleeting moment, his stomach knotted with alarm. What could she possibly find wrong with him?

"I'm not sure I've ever applied that word to a person before," she said thoughtfully. "For me, beauty is... a sunlit meadow of wildflowers beneath a snow-capped mountain, or the iridescent wing of a hummingbird."

She tilted her head, considering him again. "You are nice to look at, though."

"Nice?" His mouth twitched, his smirk faltering. "Well... that's something, at least."

"Now it's your turn," she said, her tone shifting to something expectant.

Astarion arched a brow, already feeling the tug of a mischievous grin. "Imagine Fenrir's head on a giant black wolf. That's you."

Her indignant glare was immediate, her lips pressing into a thin line. "That's it?!"

"Alright, alright. I'll do better." He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

He tilted his head, conjuring the memory of the towering wolf from the fortress. The firelight danced across his pale skin as he spoke, his voice taking on an almost lyrical quality. "Imagine Fenrir's wolfish skull without the gratuitous smoke swirling around it. Bone white, its surface smooth but almost ancient in appearance, with two glowing orbs of icy blue light where eyes should be. Then, picture that terrifying skull perched atop the body of a wolf as large as - do you know what an elephant is?"

At Ashara's confirming nod, Astarion continued. "As large as one of those. Its fur is thick and impossibly black - so dark it seems to devour the light around it. But if you look closely, you'll notice something... iridescent. A faint shimmer of dark blue, like a raven's wing. Much like your hair."

Ashara leaned into him again, her head finding its place against his chest as she absorbed his words. Her voice was quieter now, tinged with uncertainty. "Do I look... terrifying like that?"

He glanced down at her, a flicker of amusement softening his features. "It is a bit of a shock, I'll admit. Looking into those glowing eyes of yours for the first time is... well, let's just say it's memorable. But once you get past the initial, sphincter-clenching fear, you're actually quite... beautiful really."

Narrowly missing Astarion's chin again, Ashara sat up abruptly, her face twisted in confusion and doubt. "Beautiful? You think that thing looks beautiful?"

Gods... does she ever just sit still?

Pushing away his bemused exasperation, he answered honestly. "I do. Is that so hard to believe?"

Her eyes locked onto his, searching for any trace of mockery. When she found none, she leaned back slightly, murmuring, "Huh."

Astarion hesitated, weighing his next words carefully. "Have you ever considered the possibility," he began slowly, "that you are... related to Fenrir in some way?"

Her body stiffened, discomfort flickering across her face like a shadow. "I'll admit... it's crossed my mind," she said slowly. "But I'm not sure I want to think about that possibility too much. I can barely cope with being a person sometimes. How could I even begin to comprehend how to be a demi-god?"

He chuckled lightly, though his gaze was sharp, watching her reaction closely. "That's fair. It's not exactly something you can ignore, though. If it's true - and let's be honest, there's quite a bit of evidence - then maybe it's worth exploring?"

Ashara looked at him thoughtfully, her lips pressed into a faint line. For a moment, the air between them was thick with unspoken questions, the fire crackling softly as if to fill the silence.

Pulling away from him, she rose from her spot by the flames, her movements fluid but unhurried, and wandered to the mouth of the cave. She stood silhouetted against the gray curtain of rain, her arms loosely folded as she gazed out into the dreary wilderness.

Finally, she let out a breath, her voice quiet but steady. "Maybe one day. But not tonight."

The rhythmic patter of rain echoed through the cave, a relentless backdrop to the crackling fire as Ashara sighed heavily, her breath curling like smoke in the damp air. "This storm doesn't look like it's going to stop anytime soon," she murmured, her voice soft, almost resigned as she brushed a damp strand of hair away from her face. "I think we're spending the night here."

Turning back, she scanned the cave with quiet deliberation before settling on a patch of sand near the fire. Kneeling down, she began to smooth the area, her hands brushing over the surface to remove larger stones and debris. Her focus was absolute, her expression serene as though this simple task was grounding her.

"We can sleep together here if you want?" she said, glancing up at him with an easy, open expression.

Astarion froze, his mind snagging on the words as though they were a trap. His thoughts jumped immediately to the most salacious interpretation, panic flashing through him. Hells... that was fast!

But as he studied her face, he saw no hint of suggestion, no underlying motive - just a practical offer. The tension in his shoulders eased.

He raised an eyebrow, cautiously asking, "Sleep together as in...?"

Ashara shrugged, still focused on smoothing the sand. "You can sleep or trance somewhere else if you want, but since we're already sharing body heat, I thought we might as well sleep next to each other too."

Her hands paused, her expression faltering for a moment as uncertainty crept into her voice. "Unless that's crossing a line somewhere? I'm sorry - I'm not always sure which things are and aren't acceptable for people. Onyx and I sleep together all the time."

A wave of relief washed over Astarion, and he almost let slip a crude joke but stopped himself. Instead, curiosity got the better of him. "How old are you?" The question slipped out casually, though his mind was already turning.

Ashara glanced at him, surprised, but answered easily enough as she continued smoothing out the sand. "Twenty-one."

Hells! She's practically a child...

The realization struck him with more force than he liked. Outwardly, he kept his tone light. "And am I right in assuming your dealings with people are limited to just three years' worth of experience?"

She paused, her fingers hesitating over the sand. Her eyes flicked to his, narrowing slightly with suspicion. "Apart from my father, yes. Why?"

He waved off her defensiveness with a faint smile, brushing invisible dust from his clothes as he stood. "No reason. Just curious. I'd say, on the whole, you're doing quite well, all things considered."

Turning away briefly, Astarion tried masking the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. Ashara's age and lack of experience were almost staggering, but he couldn't decide if it made her easier to manipulate - or harder. She was so trusting, so guileless, and that made him uneasy in a way he couldn't fully articulate.

Pushing the thought aside, he knelt beside her on the sand, watching as she brushed a final stone away. "But in answer to your earlier question," he said smoothly, "yes, we can sleep together if you want."

Ashara's face softened with relief, the tension draining from her features. Astarion observed her reaction with interest, wondering if she had ever slept alone, if the need for warmth and reassurance was as vital to her as air.

Settling onto the sand, her movements were careful and deliberate as she lay on her side, facing the fire. The way she curled into herself stirred something faintly familiar in him - a recognition of fear carried quietly, woven into every breath.

She's always looking for something to anchor her, he realized, recalling the way she reached for Onyx whenever she was nervous or uncertain. The thought sharpened Astarion's resolve. If he could become that anchor, that unshakable source of comfort, she might grow reliant on him. And if she relied on him, he could shape the narrative between them, guiding her closer to the bond he sought to cultivate.

He lay down beside her, sliding his arm beneath her back and drawing her partially onto his chest. The movement was smooth, practiced, and Ashara didn't hesitate, wrapping her arm over him as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Her head rested in the crook of his shoulder, and she let out a soft, contented sigh, her body relaxing completely against his. The cloak draped over them both, cocooning them in shared warmth.

Astarion stared at the rocky ceiling for a moment, his thoughts a sea of conflict. Her trust - so freely given, so unguarded - was disarming in ways he hadn't expected. She didn't seem to comprehend the vulnerability of her position, how her proximity could stir thoughts and feelings that danced dangerously close to something he couldn't control.

He swallowed hard, feeling his body already responding in ways he desperately didn't want it to, a faint tension building that he struggled to suppress. He fervently hoped she wouldn't notice.

Yet even as he fought to maintain his composure, a deeper unease stirred within him. The way she clung to him, not out of desire but simple trust, was a kind of intimacy he wasn't accustomed to. It wasn't transactional. There were no ulterior motives, no strings attached - and this made it all the more appealing.

And that, of course, was the problem.

Astarion realized, with a jarring clarity, that if his plan succeeded - if he seduced her - this moment, this simple comfort, would transform into something else entirely. Her touch would become something to endure, her affection a weight he'd resent. The idea of loathing her sent an unsteady ripple through him, and he frowned faintly, unsure why the thought troubled him so deeply.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the steady rhythm of her breathing. Her trust was a tool, he reminded himself, a means to an end. And yet a small voice in the back of his head whispered, Does it really have to be that way?

Ashara shifted slightly, murmuring something incoherent as she burrowed closer. Astarion sighed softly, the sound barely audible, and let his arm tighten around her just a fraction. For now, he would play his part. The rest could wait until morning.


The storm raged on, a relentless symphony of rain and thunder that soaked the earth and churned the grass into a soggy quagmire. Onyx loped through the drenched grassland, his paws squelching in the saturated ground.

Lightning split the sky above, illuminating the dark world for brief, flickering moments. His fur clung to his body, heavy with water, and his breath misted in the frigid air as he pressed forward.

Ashara's scent was faint, almost swallowed by the storm, but it lingered like a fragile thread, guiding him through the chaos. His keen nose twitched as he tracked her, his instincts humming with unease. He followed her trail to the remnants of a ruined fort, its crumbling stone walls looming like jagged teeth in the distance.

The scent of blood hit him first, thick and cloying, undercut by the sharp tang of fear. His hackles rose as he entered the area, his senses overwhelmed by the unmistakable stench of death. Ashara's wolf form had been here. Her scent was layered with feral intensity, mingling with traces of terror and violence. Another scent threaded through the chaos - Astarion.

Onyx's ears flicked forward, his nose lowering to the ground as he sniffed at the churned earth. He tracked their overlapping scents to a small hollow in the grassland, pausing to examine the scattered tracks. His claws flexed into the mud, tension coiling in his muscles as the story revealed itself.

Alarm spiked through him, sharpening his focus. He pushed onward, his pace quickening, the wet grass whipping against his legs. The trail led him into the forest, where the rain softened under the canopy but still dripped in a persistent rhythm. Lightning flashed again, briefly illuminating the mouth of a cave nestled among the trees.

Onyx froze, his nose wrinkling as a new smell reached him. Piles of regurgitated flesh lay scattered just outside the entrance, the remnants of a gruesome purge. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, dread curling like a shadow in his mind.

He padded forward, his body low to the ground as he slipped into the cave and shook the water from his fur. The faint warmth of a dying fire greeted him, the embers glowing faintly against the darkness. His golden eyes adjusted quickly, scanning the space until they landed on a sight that made him halt.

Two figures lay entwined on the ground, wrapped in a shared cloak. Ashara was curled on her side, her breathing soft and steady, and behind her, Astarion lay pressed against her, one arm draped loosely over her waist. Onyx's sharp eyes picked up every detail - the serene rise and fall of their chests, the warmth of their shared body heat - and the faint, maddening scent of arousal hanging in the air.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest, low and guttural. His lips curled back, exposing sharp teeth as his muscles coiled with the urge to rip Astarion away from Ashara. He stalked forward, his gaze locked onto the vampire's face, rage simmering just below the surface. The closer he got, the more the urge to snap his neck surged, nearly irresistible.

Astarion stirred, his eyes fluttering open. The moment they met Onyx's, they widened in alarm. For a moment, he looked as though he might pull back, but his gaze flicked down to Ashara, then back to the towering wolf. He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This isn't what it looks like, I swear."

Onyx's growl deepened, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped closer. "It had better not be."

Astarion's throat bobbed as he glanced at Ashara again, still asleep against his chest, then back to Onyx. "She was cold," he said, his words measured, trying to keep his tone calm. "And - as ironic as this is coming from a vampire - I was just helping her stay warm."

Onyx's paw shifted forward, his claws scratching against the stone as he loomed closer. "And how exactly did you help her stay warm...?"

"Exactly the way you see now," Astarion shot back, irritation creeping into his voice. "Nothing more."

Onyx's lips peeled back in a snarl, his voice laced with suspicion. "I can smell your desire for her. You reek of it."

Astarion's eyes flickered with annoyance, his voice rising slightly. "Well, I'm clearly not acting on it, am I?"

Ashara stirred against him, her body shifting unconsciously to press closer. Astarion froze, his eyes widening again before he cleared his throat awkwardly, offering Onyx a weak smile. "Well... not consciously, anyway."

Onyx's snarl deepened, his muscles tensing as he stepped even closer. Astarion leaned back instinctively, trying to put distance between himself and the wolf without disturbing Ashara.

"I can't help it if my body reacts in a way I don't want it to!" Astarion hissed, his voice defensive, tinged with a flicker of panic.

Onyx paused, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the vampire. The tension hung thick in the air, the fire's faint embers barely flickering as if afraid to move. He watched Astarion closely, the subtle shifts in his expression, the way he remained carefully still, not wanting to startle Ashara awake.

Finally, Onyx huffed, his growl subsiding into a low rumble. "For your sake," he said, his voice still laced with warning, "that had better be true."

Astarion sighed, running a free hand through his hair in fustration. "Look, my life has been an endless parade of lovers, practically every night I'd be bedding someone new-"

Onyx's hackles rose again instantly, a low rumble escaping his throat. Astarion hastily clarified, raising his hand as if to ward off an invisible blow. "Not by choice!" he whispered urgently. "It was just the easiest way to convince people to trust me, to lure them back to Cazador." His tone shifted then, his eyes lowering, shame pooling in the lines of his face. "Or the quickest way to earn money for him."

Onyx's ears flicked forward, the weight of the confession catching him off guard. Slowly, he sat down, his muscles taut beneath his wet fur. "If this is meant to reassure me, you're doing a dismal job."

Astarion glared at him but quickly checked his irritation as Ashara murmured in her sleep again. Once she stilled, he continued in a low, strained voice. "The point is, I've rarely - if ever - laid beside someone just to do that and nothing else. For the first time in centuries, I can hold someone without Cazador's voice in my head." He glanced down at Ashara's peaceful face, a flicker of something fragile crossing his features. "But while my mind is free, my body still seems to think it's under his orders."

The tension in Onyx's shoulders eased slightly, his fur settling back into place as he lay down, his massive paws crossed in front of him. "I understand," he said finally. "However, you should have considered this before you chose to lay beside her."

Astarion's face fell, guilt flashing across his features. "I... didn't think it would be an issue."

Onyx raised a dark brow, his disbelief evident. Astarion flushed faintly, muttering, "I did try to put a little distance between us when I realized that, er... things were happening." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and gestured to Ashara. "But she's rather clingy. Then she rolled onto my arm, and now I can't move it."

Onyx huffed, a short sound that might have been amusement or exasperation. His gaze softened slightly as he looked at Ashara. "She has always been like that."

He stood, his large frame moving with surprising gentleness as he nudged Ashara with his nose, carefully sliding her off Astarion's arm. She murmured something incoherent but didn't wake, her body curling slightly as she adjusted to the change.

Astarion sat up, rubbing his arm with a grimace. "I think I've lost all feeling in it," he muttered.

Onyx glanced at him, his lips curling into something that could almost be a smirk. "Do you want me to bite it to find out?"

Astarion forced a cheery tone, flexing his fingers. "No, no. That's quite all right. The pins and needles have just started, so no need for alarm."

Shaking his head, Onyx settled down beside Ashara, curling protectively around her as he watched Astarion from the corner of his eye. "Consider yourself lucky, vampire, that I am far more tolerant than my originator."

Astarion smirked faintly, leaning back against the cave wall. "You mean her father would have me beheaded if he caught us together like this?"

The air shifted.

Onyx froze, his muscles going taut as dread pooled in his stomach. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his head, his gaze locking onto Astarion's. His voice was low and deliberate, every word laced with warning. "I'm sure he would have, if he were still alive."

Astarion tilted his head, his expression almost playful despite the tension radiating from Onyx. "I'm talking about her real father. She's Fenrir's daughter, isn't she?"

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, and Onyx felt a chill creep up his spine. His instincts screamed to silence the vampire, but Astarion continued, oblivious to the storm brewing in the wolf's chest.

"Honestly, it wasn't all that hard to figure out," Astarion said with a casual wave of his hand. "Her wolf form's resemblance to Fenrir, the fact she was mysteriously abandoned as a baby, the powers she wields without any connection to the Weave, and, of course, you. A fierce warrior with hundreds of years of experience, playing babysitter."

Onyx stood, his muscles coiling as rage surged through him. He barely heard the vampire's next words.

"Oh, don't worry, your secret is safe with-"

Onyx didn't let him finish. With a snarl, he launched himself at Astarion, his teeth sinking into the leather of his jerkin, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

Astarion yelped in shock, his hands scrambling for purchase as Onyx sprinted out of the cave, the storm's fury swallowing the sounds of struggle. Rain lashed at them as he pounded through the soaked forest, the mud sucking at his paws.

Reaching a clearing, Onyx hurled Astarion to the ground. The vampire landed hard, sliding in the mud as he tried to scramble upright. Onyx was on him in an instant, a massive paw planting firmly on his chest, pinning him down. Lightning illuminated the scene, the flash revealing the raw fury in Onyx's eyes.

Astarion struggled, his hands slick with mud as he tried to push the paw away. "What the hells are you-"

Onyx's roar drowned out his words, the sound like thunder itself. "If you ever speak of this to anyone, I will tear you apart!"

Astarion froze beneath him, his chest heaving as terror widened his eyes. His lips trembled, and his voice came out as a stuttering whisper. "I w-won't. I swear."

The storm's fury raged on, the wind shrieking through the trees and rain pounding relentlessly against the earth. Onyx leaned closer, his snarling teeth inches from Astarion's face, rain dripping from his muzzle.

Astarion closed his eyes, his body trembling violently. His voice was a hoarse, frantic whisper that repeated. "I swear. I swear. I swear..."

The mantra was so soft at first that Onyx almost didn't hear it, but it grew louder, more desperate, until the trembling turned to shaking. Onyx's conscience stirred uneasily. His snarl faltered, and his piercing amber eyes narrowed as the tremor in Astarion's voice became too raw to ignore.

He stepped back, lifting his paw from the vampire's chest, though his hackles remained raised. "Astarion?" he called cautiously, his deep voice cutting through the storm.

Astarion's eyes snapped open, wide and frantic, but the terror in them was directed somewhere far away. "I swear, I won't disobey you, master!"

The single word froze Onyx in place, a shard of icy realisation lodging deep in his chest. His ears flattened against his skull as he stared at the vampire, his thoughts racing. Master.

A glance at a puddle nearby revealed his reflection: fur slicked back with rain, fangs bared, and eyes glowing an ominous red as a flash of lightning illuminated them. For a moment, he saw what Astarion must have seen - Cazador, a looming predator from a past filled with horror and subjugation. Shame struck him like a physical blow, and his heart sank under the weight of his actions.

When he turned back, Astarion had scrambled to his feet, retreating to the base of a tree. He crouched there, his arms wrapped around himself, his gaze fixed on the muddy ground. Every muscle in his body screamed fear, his frame hunched like a cornered animal waiting for the next strike.

Onyx took a tentative step forward, but the vampire flinched, pressing himself further into the tree trunk as if trying to merge with the bark. Onyx stopped immediately, his tail tucking between his legs and his ears drooping in visible distress. "Astarion..." he began, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. "I'm sorry."

Astarion gave no sign of hearing him, his crimson eyes darting around frantically, his breathing shallow and rapid. Onyx's throat tightened as guilt clawed at him. Closing his eyes briefly, Onyx took a steadying breath. He had to fix this.

Without another word, he lowered his head and savagely bit into his own foreleg, his sharp teeth tearing through flesh. Blood welled immediately, its metallic scent cutting through the damp air. He let it drip into the mud before stepping forward, making sure Astarion could see it. The vampire's gaze locked onto the wound, his nostrils flaring as hunger overtook fear, his crimson eyes glowing faintly.

Onyx moved slowly, his posture low and unthreatening as he walked closer. He raised his head, exposing his throat deliberately, the ultimate gesture of trust. Astarion's muscles tensed like coiled springs before he launched himself forward with a guttural snarl. His arms wrapped around Onyx's thick neck, his fangs sinking deep into the wolf's throat.

Onyx remained perfectly still, his massive body unmoving as the rain washed streaks of blood down his fur. He waited, enduring the pull of his lifeblood as Astarion drank with desperate urgency. Only when he felt the vampire's grip loosen slightly did he lower his head, resting it over Astarion's shoulder like a protective mantle.

His deep voice rumbled softly, almost a whisper, heavy with regret. "I should not have lost my temper at you like that. It was an unforgivable response, and one unworthy of a Fenris Guard."

Astarion stiffened at his words, his hands clenching and unclenching in Onyx's fur. The wolf adjusted his head slightly, giving him more room, but his voice remained steady and soothing.

"You have to understand," Onyx continued, "it is my solemn duty to protect Ashara. There are beings in this world that crave the power she holds within her blood. Beings that will stop at nothing to attain it. Now that you know the secret of her birthright, her life could very well depend on your silence."

Astarion's drinking slowed, and he finally pulled away, though he stayed beneath Onyx's lowered head. His voice was subdued, weary. "Does she know?"

Relief flickered in Onyx's chest. At least Astarion was speaking again. "No," he said, shaking his head. "And I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible." A thought struck him, and he asked cautiously, "You haven't said anything to her, have you?"

Astarion tensed again, his breath hitching slightly. Onyx didn't miss the way his heartbeat quickened. He sighed internally, his tone softening. "I won't be angry if you have. It would help to know, though."

Astarion hesitated before finally muttering, "I didn't tell her anything she hadn't already guessed."

Onyx let out a low rumble of acknowledgment. "Ah... I see."

Astarion stepped away, standing shakily before the wolf. His fear seemed to ebb slightly as he found his footing, his voice steadier now. "She's not stupid. All she has to do is see her reflection to realize she looks just like him."

Onyx said nothing, but his heart twisted at the truth in his words. Rain streamed down his face, dripping from his muzzle as he fixed Astarion with an unreadable stare. The vampire's crimson eyes burned with anger, his drenched hair plastered against his pale face as he crossed his arms tightly.

"And you didn't have to threaten me," Astarion snapped, his voice sharp as broken glass. "I had no intention of revealing what she is to anyone."

Onyx lowered his head slightly, guilt tightening his chest as Astarion's anger spilled over. But before he could respond, the vampire's tone shifted, turning sly, almost playful.

"If I did," Astarion continued, a smirk curling his lips, "I'd lose the element of surprise - and the delicious look of shock on people's faces when she goes all demi-god on them."

Onyx's lip curled into a reluctant grin despite himself, the mental image amusing him. But the grin faded quickly, replaced by a sober, more reflective expression. He lowered his head slightly, his ears twitching back. "I know my actions - though guided by fear for Ashara - are unforgivable. But is there a way I can atone for my mistake?"

Astarion's gaze flicked away, his posture stiff. He swiped at his eyes, brushing away the rain, and for a moment Onyx thought he wouldn't answer. Then a devious grin spread across his face, sharp and predatory. He straightened, crossing his arms and adopting a haughty, commanding posture.

Onyx felt the stirrings of dread in his chest. He already suspected what was coming, and he cringed internally as he waited for the inevitable.

Astarion's voice was light, but there was steel beneath it. "Roll over."

Onyx's ears flattened against his skull, a heavy sigh escaping him. His pride howled in protest, but he pushed it aside. "As you command," he rumbled, his voice tinged with resignation as his tail flicked in irritation.

With a low groan, Onyx lowered himself into the mud with a wet splash. He rolled onto his back, his massive frame awkwardly sprawled as he let his tongue loll out in exaggerated submission. The rain pelted his exposed belly, the indignity of the act made worse by the cold, sticky earth pressing against his fur. He regarded Astarion with a deadpan expression, his golden eyes now upside down.

Astarion leaned over him, his grin widening to something almost gleeful. "Comfortable?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"Perfectly humiliated, thank you," Onyx replied, his tone dry.

"Good." Astarion's smile vanished, his voice hardening with cold anger as he leaned closer. "Don't ever do that to me again."

Onyx nodded - or as close to a nod as he could manage in his current position. "You have my word."

With a grunt, he rolled back onto his feet and shook violently, sending flecks of muck flying in every direction. Astarion stepped back with an indignant glare, narrowly avoiding the spray.

"Will that be all?" Onyx asked, his tone exasperated.

Astarion smirked, brushing at a stray splatter of mud on his sleeve. "You can carry me back to the cave, too."

Onyx arched an eyebrow - or rather, the lupine equivalent - and tilted his head. "The same way I carried you here? Or would you prefer to ride?"

Astarion's eyes narrowed. "I think you know the answer to that."

"Right," Onyx replied, his voice laden with faux cheer. "By the scruff it is, then."

He lunged forward playfully, jaws parting as if to grab Astarion by the collar. The vampire dodged backward, his movements quick and graceful. "Don't you dare!" he hissed, his tone a mixture of irritation and genuine alarm.

Onyx huffed a laugh, the sound low and rumbling, before lowering himself onto his haunches, his massive frame crouched to allow Astarion to climb onto his back. The vampire eyed him warily but finally relented, stepping forward and settling onto the wolf's broad shoulders with a grumble.

As Onyx began the trek back toward the cave, Astarion leaned slightly forward, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "How exactly do we explain to Ashara why the two of us look like we've been wallowing in a pigpen?"

Onyx paused mid-step, glancing upward at the rain-soaked canopy above them. His ears flicked as he considered. "Attacked by a group of wandering mud mephits?" he suggested, his tone utterly serious.

Astarion's lips curved into a grin, the sharpness of his earlier anger softening. "Hmm... I suppose I could spin that story. Of course, I heroically saved you from being smothered in their earthen embrace."

Onyx snorted, his breath steaming in the chill air. "Naturally."

As the cave entrance loomed closer, Ashara's silhouette stood framed by the faint light of the fire within. The rain cast her in a shroud of silver, her figure motionless yet watchful. Onyx slowed his steps, his paws sinking slightly into the soaked earth, his breath steady but heavier with the weight of what was to come.

He could feel Astarion shift slightly on his back, adjusting his grip. Onyx's voice was low, almost hesitant as he spoke. "I think you should tell her the truth. That I attacked you."

A moment of silence followed, broken only by the patter of rain. Onyx's ears twitched, straining for a response. Finally, Astarion replied, his tone dry and laced with his usual sardonic humor. "Won't that bring up rather a few awkward questions?"

"Yes," Onyx admitted, his voice steady but resigned. "And it will anger her too. But I can't hide the truth of what she is any longer."

He felt a shift in Astarion's weight as the vampire leaned back slightly, no doubt pondering the wolf's words. When Astarion finally answered, his voice was light, almost flippant, but carried an edge of tension that didn't escape Onyx's keen ears. "Well... this should be fun."

The wolf huffed softly, a puff of steam rising from his flared nostrils as he approached the cave.

"Indeed."