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AMAYA POV

Sunlight. It kissed my skin while the trees of the forest whispered softly. I woke to a pale blue sky, dawn having just risen, and birds beginning their morning songs. Beautiful. My body was so relaxed against the blanket, another having been draped over me as I slept, my skin tingling at the softness of it, and the few bruises I'd collected ached in a downright sinful manner. What a night. I bit my lip looking back on it; the tangle of my body with Astarion's, the way he moaned against my skin, the desperate clasp of his powerful hands, the way he gave into bliss alongside me. Damn. What a night, indeed.

For a moment I wondered where he had gone, a small cold second making me wonder if he had simply left me in that area of the woods to sneak back to camp alone, but no. Of course not. He was stood a couple of metres away, where the sunshine broke through the canopy proper, facing away from me, his arms spread slightly, basking in the golden light. No doubt it remained a novelty to him. He said almost two hundred years, I think. Presumably he hadn't felt the sun in all that time, or if he had, it had been painful. And as much as I enjoyed seeing him simply happy to exist, I found myself distracted. My eyes were drawn to raised lines on his skin. Markings. No. Scars. They littered his back in pale pink lines, arranged in a circle of some kind, expanding the entirety of his back. Looking back, I think I had felt them the night before. Was that something he had chosen to have done? Or… My heart clenched. Was it something his old tormentor had done to him? What had that name been? Cazador? Something like that. The symbols were vaguely familiar, but I couldn't be sure from this distance.

Sitting up, I held the blanket to me against the chilled morning air. How to approach the subject? I couldn't even be sure I was meant to see it. Still, I had, and if it caused him pain, I wanted to help. And if it was just another part of his story, I wanted to know. The main obstacle being if he wished me to.

I yawned loudly, as if only just waking. "It's a beautiful morning."

"Aren't they all, when you can simply stand in the sunshine?" He chuckled and sighed contentedly.

"Mm, very good point. So what… You're not one for cuddling in the morning?"

"You're a light sleeper." He hummed, slightly turning his head but not opening his eyes as the sunshine washed over him. "I expected you to be exhausted after last night."

I hugged my knees. "Likewise."

He turned properly and eyed me, apparently hearing the apprehension in my voice. Was he just that observant or was that a Vampire thing? I had no idea. So I'd put it down to an Astarion thing.

His brows raised. "Is something the matter, Little One?"

"I don't want to upset you."

"Darling, I doubt you could after such a wonderful evening." He cooed, and as much as I liked that idea, I knew how sensitive he could be when it came to personal matters. Which was his right. Of course. But still, it made me hesitate.

But he had asked. So I'd be honest. "I was just wondering about your scars."

His jaw tightened and his stance went very rigid. He was still shirtless, having been basking in the sunshine, but clearly in that moment he wished he was fully covered. The words tasted bitter on my tongue. Damn it. I shouldn't have asked, I shouldn't have brought that darkness into his golden morning. No, it wasn't my intention, and all that crap, but clearly the subject brought him pain.

I bit my lip. "Forget I asked."

A long pause before he sighed, weary. "No, sweet, I apologise. I didn't expect you to wake so soon, but you have, and so obviously you've seen them. My own doing really."

"You don't have to speak about them though. Really, it's fi–"

"You're allowed to wonder. Of course you're curious, you're curious about everything." He said and I was grateful to find genuine endearment in that tone instead of annoyance. He drew a deep breath, his hands flexing before settling on clenched. "They're yet another gift from Cazador."

I winced. Sometimes, it was incredibly shit to be correct.

Astarion clicked his tongue. "He carved them himself, said he was penning a poem."

"A poem?"

I shook my head and got up, grabbing my shirt from the ground and slinging it on, finding his too and holding it out to him. He eyed me. He took it, and thumbed along one of the many lines of fine stitching. He had repaired it so many times, hadn't he?

Taking another few steps forward, I inclined my head to his back. "I'm sorry the sick bastard did such a thing. Truly. I'm also sorry you would have preferred to hide them, but that's also your right. I don't want you to put the shirt on, but fully appreciate you might wish to."

He stared at me.

I waited. Sometimes, it seemed like Astarion needed extra time to process. And it didn't seem like that came down to the time being needed for the process, more that he needed the time to decide how to react. How to let himself show that reaction. The fact he had to be so measured was awful. His world had been so controlled, so fraught with constant fear, hadn't it? Cazador, you bastard. I wanted to rip those shadows to shreds. I wanted to free Astarion. To set that smile ablaze and have him share it freely, or indeed his tears, whatever he felt. But I was getting ahead of myself.

He swallowed hard, still tracing the stitching on his shirt. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Be so… nice. Some might have taken offence to not being shown."

"Offence?"

He shrugged. "You could have suspected an issue of trust or something. It isn't, by the way."

"I didn't think that at all. Really. It's your story to tell. We've become closer, yes, intimate even, but that doesn't mean you owe me information." I smiled softly and shook my head again. "Though I suppose you can take it as quite the compliment that I didn't barely noticed them last night when I was scratching… Oh gods. Wait, they don't still hurt or anything, do they?"

He pursed his lips, but thankfully it seemed to be laughter he suppressed. "Of course that's what you're concerned about. You make no sense, my dear. Squirrels beware, but a couple of scratches due to having your mind fucked out? Heavens forbid."

I blushed and he tapped my chin, making me look up at him again properly. He stared for a moment and then leaned in to press a chaste kiss to my lips. I kissed back of course, glad to feel the tension leaving us both.

Then he ran his fingertips along my blushing cheek. "They do not hurt anymore, no. I'm fine. Truly. The only thing your scratches have done is remind me that I can reduce someone like you to liquid, if given the chance. And that is quite the compliment."

Obviously, my cheeks burned brighter. "Very true."

"That blush suits you." He winked.

"May I uh… May I have a closer look?"

"At the scars?" He leaned back a little and gripped the shirt tightly. "Why?"

"Aren't you curious to know what it says?"

"No. I'm not." His nose wrinkled. "Whatever the bastard wrote, it won't change what he did to me."

"Of course not, nothing would." I reached very slowly, so he could see me the whole time, but he didn't retreat, and I placed my hand on his arm. The morning sun had warmed his skin, but I could tell the warmth from my blood was fading. "I just thought I might recognise the language, that's all. Sorry. I won't mention it again."

"I…" He looked down at my hand. "You think you know the language?"

"Maybe not to read, but I might be able to identify it. Do you uh… Do you want me to try?"

He paused again and I stayed very still. I had all the patience in the world right now, the last thing I was going to do was rush him. A muscle twitched in his jaw and he nodded. I stepped round him and put my hands on his shoulders, tempted to trace the lines but thinking better of it. The pink welts stood up against his pale back, his skin otherwise flawless, like the finest porcelain – I hated to think of how deep the cuts had to have been in order to scar so angrily. Focus. I knew those shapes from somewhere.

A moment later I stepped back round and nodded to his shirt.

He pulled it on quickly. "Well?"

"I think it's infernal."

"I-Infernal? I…" Astarion faltered. Whatever he had thought it was, if he had a theory, that had not been it. Surprise lit his features, before the anger retook. "Well who knows. The bastard was insane."

"Well maybe we can copy it and ask someone to translate or something. If you want." I added and he smoothed his shirt down. "Really, Astarion. This is your story, your choice."

"I… Appreciate that."

I nodded and then reached to pull a leaf from his silver curls. "And thank you."

"For what?" He reached and took the leaf from my fingers, blowing it away as he maintained eye contact.

"For trusting me." I stepped in and kissed his cheek. "And a wonderful evening."

"Likewise my dear. You were…" He paused and then smiled, looking down for a second. "Lovely. Truly."

ASTARION POV

The camp packed up and they headed for the road onwards to the shadowed lands. They planned to go into them via the Underdark, through the Grymforge ruins where they had found that elevator. It seemed like it would allow them to enter the Shadowlands a little further in, and thus avoid a few extra encounters. All good news. But Astarion still steeled his nerve as they traipsed through the abandoned ruins, the Underdark still feeling stifling even with their enemies so thinned. Another day. Another trek. Another few hundred steps closer to a cure. Maybe. And as they walked, Astarion's mind drifted as he watched Amaya walking in front of him, the torchlight catching along her hair like the sunshine had that morning. It would probably be the last time in quite a while they saw the sun. His mind drifted to the night before.

In some ways, he had been running his usual script, falling into old habits simply out of an uncertainty of how else to act. This was far from his first time being with her, but she did not know that. And once again his cowardice robbed him of the ability to confess. So, the part was to be played.

"What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy." He had kissed her skin again and then paused as his heart ached at the pretence, taking a small leap at some honesty. Just a little. Finding out how she felt, oh-so-selfish of him. "That's what you want, isn't it? To lose yourself in me."

Because that was all he had ever really been to his victims – initially anyway. A distraction from the noise of life, a pretty pair of eyes and a pleasing smile, a finely sculpted body and a dose of pleasure. Nothing more than the surface level beauty to be beheld. Right until they realised their folly, right until clutched in Cazador's claws, all Astarion was, was a flight of fancy. And he had grown used to that. Numbed by it. But he also couldn't blame them – after all, that shallowness suited his purpose just fine. It suited Cazador. It suited the means.

And as he spoke, Amaya had shivered. He expected her to say yes, to sigh it and turn to sling her arms round his neck, to cut off the conversation with a kiss and for them to simply tumble through the rest. It made him ache to think of her seeing him so flippantly nowadays, instead of the connection they had shared previously. But no, he was wrong. Of course he was wrong. His Amaya didn't think like that. Usually he didn't know how to predict how she might think at all, and that moment was no different.

She had turned in his hold and put her hands to his bare chest, and as she looked up with those warm eyes, the moonlight made them look like molten gold. And they searched him for something. Did she find it? Did he want her to? When he was honest with himself, yes, he desperately wanted her to find everything she sought in him. Because he couldn't really believe there was much worth searching for. She reached slowly, and ran her delicate touch from his ear, along his jaw and then down his neck. He tried, but he wasn't sure he managed to fully hide his shiver. To have her close again was wonderful. To know her warmth under his hands was tantalising. Holding her closer, he was sure she would be able to feel how much he yearned for her already, how hard he was, aching to know her heat again. She went onto her toes and kissed him tenderly, him gladly reciprocating, arms winding round her, fully expecting things to go as he imagined.

But then she leaned back ever so slightly and smiled up at him. "Lose myself, maybe."

It stung to have his suspicions confirmed, but it wasn't her fault. He was something pretty, something to distract, something to pass the time. Maybe he always had been. Even back in Baldur's Gate.

He chuckled. "I thought so–"

"But maybe find something too."

He blinked, her words stalling it all. So sincere. So matter-of-fact. He stared down at her, trying to figure out where this creature had come from, this beautiful soul that kept seeing right through him in the most alarming and yet endearing ways.

"You're not just a distraction." She had kissed over his heart. "I'm not saying we have to be soul-mates, but I do care about you, Astarion."

And suddenly he couldn't get close enough. As if any space between them might allow for her to simply vanish from under him like a wisp. He had to tell her. He had to say the truth and make it all bett– She kissed him. Hard. He kissed back of course, but as he stared at her, he sought the will to stop it all. To say it. I know you Amaya, and your name is Amaya god dammit. You're from Baldur's Gate like me, and we were falling in lov– She angled her head and that delectable tongue caressed into his mouth. She held so tight. She gave a small hum of contentment. And he was lost. Yes. More. He wanted to know it all again, and simply be in that moment. A stolen moment amongst the madness. Their breath combined and their tongues danced. More. Now. His whole being ached with the need to know her body again, to worship her like had done so many times before. He groaned and lifted her to settle against his hips, turning to pin her to the nearby tree trunk. Her shirt was gone, her body was warm under his touch, and her voice hitched into the most sinful noises.

And there he was, in the present, walking behind her again, well aware of the deepening trouble he was getting himself into.

"Damn fool." He muttered to himself and hitched his pack higher on his shoulder.

They still had a long way to go.

Literally and metaphorically.

The Shadow lands were as unpleasant as expected. But once they made it to an encampment held by the Harpers – and it turns out, the legendary Druid Jaheira herself – the group were able to breathe a little easier. The place was surrounded by magic protection against the Shadows that preyed upon people in the wilds. The curse had ruptured the land itself, corrupted the fauna, and driven so many mad it was impossible to fathom the numbers. Still, they had a haven.

For five minutes at least.

When speaking to the Cleric of the area, the one keeping those nasty shadows at bay, they all ended up entangled in another brawl. With some winged freak and some demonic looking imp things. All in all, quite the headache, but nothing they couldn't handle. Well… Except a couple of people that got snatched. A little awkward. And of course, now another thing they had to go and try to fix. Amaya had an oddly heroic streak to her that he hadn't noticed initially – though as he reflected on it, her cleaning her blade of imp blood and laughing with Karlach about the tussle, he realised he had known it all along. Of course she was Heroic. She had saved him already…

More allies found. More headaches uncovered. And yet more tasks added to the list.

Still, at least they might find some answers at Moonrise.

And he might finally find his nerve to tell Amaya the truth.

He snorted at himself and continued cleaning his dagger.

And pigs might fly…

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Natza12345: Thank you so much for your kind review, I really appreciate you taking the time to chime in. Folks have been so quiet around here lately! I'm so glad you're finding the characters convincing, it's always a fun challenge stepping into a new fandom situation and grappling with established characters. Plenty more to come, I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter!