Chapter Text
Water rushes up and over smooth granite to whisper where it eddies in shallow pools along the bank, indifferent to the wreckage of flesh and cartilage that slowly burns out among the reeds. Nehv lies with her cheek pressed to damp sand and watches as a sandpiper races between hunks of still smoking debris on long, delicate legs. Each gentle lap of the tide hisses over the length of the greatsword she still clutches in her left hand, flames indifferent to the few fingers of water that soak into the rich fabric of her dress.
Judging by the way she can rather acutely feel her knees poking through the fabric to cool in the gentle breeze, it seems like her garment hasn’t been so lucky as she has to make it through their crash landing unscathed. She’d liked this one too, sewn from a rich purple fabric that reminds her of the monkshood that bloomed outside her family’s home. Lifting her chin with a reluctant groan, Nehv surveys the damage. Her skirts are clearly f*cked, but the bodice is more or less intact, plunging neckline tugged low enough to bare the lace edging of her corset. Giving the sandpiper a soft apology as it skitters away, she rises to her feet and stumbles onto dryer sand.
Her new sword cuts cleanly through the remains of fine satin, ever present flame singing the ends so they do not fray. With this new, shorter length comes increased mobility, but Nehv can’t help feeling a bit exposed as she makes her way down the ravaged beach. Stained fabric swishes about just above her knees as she glances about, taking in the Nautiloid’s crumpled remains where they extend out into the water. She’ll have to steal a pair of pants off the first more or less intact corpse, she decides. Something tells her there's yet more fighting in her future, and no way in any of the hells is she going to fight with this much leg exposed.
The first body she stumbles upon is the same cleric she’d freed on board the Nautiloid, unconscious among silvery driftwood. It takes only a moment to spot the rise and fall of the other woman’s breath, and it’s with hope blooming in her chest that she falls to bare knees in the sand. Nehv wakes her with a hand on one armored shoulder, and when Shadowheart rises it’s with a hand pressed gingerly to her forehead.
“Where are we?” The cleric asks once they’re both standing, lined eyes squinting to block out the glare of high noon. There’s a fist sized object that she holds close, clearly cagey. Nehv chooses not to comment on it.
“I was hoping you’d know.” She sighs, running one hand through tangled hair. “I don’t recognize any of these rock features, but rivers that rise and fall like this are rare, so I’m willing to bet we’re along the Chionthar.” Her companion nods thoughtfully, and after a brief but heartfelt expression of gratitude for her rescue aboard the ship, they continue on down the beach together.
It only takes a a quarter hour of hunting for Nehv to find a suitable pair of leathers to borrow off a fisherman whose fingers already ribbon at the edges where a shoal of glittering fry feast. A few more paces up the sand lies another man whose tunic bears only a few splotches of long dried blood along the hem that she’s fairly certain she’ll be able to lift. Shadowheart purses her lips in distaste as Nehv strips out of her ruined dress entirely to slip the secondhand layer over her corset to belt at the waist. It falls off one shoulder stubbornly, but anything is better than the restrictive cling of wet satin.
The Nautiloid’s bridge glistens beneath heavy afternoon sun where it pours in through the gaping hole left behind by the Gith’s red dragons. Wrinkling her nose past the smell of mucosal membranes going dry, Nehv dispatches a trio of intellect devourers with ruthless efficiency, Shadowheart’s blessing tingling along her forearms. In the silence that follows her heart seems overloud, adrenaline still pouring down the back of her neck in a delayed response.
“Let’s see if they left us anything useful,” her voice echoes, dampened only slightly by the ropes of viscera that hand limply from cartilaginous struts. Each footstep tacky with the blood and mucus beneath is, they pick their way across the chamber.
Rich red blood lifts off her hands in thin veils as Nehv scrubs clean in the next cove of shallow water they come across. Gulls kite overhead, calling shrilly to one another as they dip and roll through unsettled air. A few paces behind her, Shadowheart counts healing potions out with a tight lipped grimace. It had been worth hunting through the main chamber: one chest and a few dead bodies later their packs were notably heavier with potions and a handful of goods to (hopefully) barter.
“I’m going to see if I can spot any signs of an encampment from the top of those bluffs.” Nehv calls, wiping her hands on bogarted leather as she gestures with her chin up to where thin trees reach waxy leaves up toward the sky. The cleric nods, and she takes off at a jog, Everburn Blade bouncing against her back.
A chorus of songbirds greets her as she ascends off the sand and onto pale soil. They flit about in the underbrush around her, little wings a soft staccato beat to the delicate songs thrown up into into the air. She enjoys the company for a few quiet moments, closes her eyes and breathes in slowly through her nose as she feels a knot of tension that’s been present in her chest since long before her abduction unwind.
It only lasts a handful of seconds longer.
Rounding a gently sloping corner, Nehv pauses in her tracks as all sounds of small life from the underbrush comes to an abrupt end. The fine hair at the back of her neck lifts with a cool tingle, the same she’d felt as a youngling following her father into the brush after a badly wounded bear. One hand lifted to ghost over the pommel of her sword, Nehv cautiously carries forward; the eerie silence follows her.
Accompanied only by the thunder of her pulse, she makes it a few yards further into the stillness, skin crawling. A boar screams to the right, eyes rolling with panic as it careens past to carve a path through the brush. Nehv doesn’t even have time to react before she’s tackled to the ground, a gleaming blade held to her throat.
For a moment she’s sure she’s dreaming, that the last twenty four hours have finally caught up to her and sent her psyche shattering under the weight of her unexpected passenger. Because surely, surely, she must be dreaming. How else could she explain the familiar red eyes that narrow down at her, pupils pulled tight in the sun?
The same red eyes that had ripped the air right from her lungs across the Kinky Kelpie’s crowded floor. The same she’d stared into and found herself unable to lie about her name to, that had seemed almost luminous in the half light as they’d danced the night of summer solstice. The same gaze she startles awake to each night, seared into her sight like a retinal burn, her only company as she rubs her thighs together beneath damp sheets.
She’d never even gotten his name.
Tilting her chin up slowly, Nehv licks her lips, excruciatingly aware of the long line of his body where the pale elf uses it to pin her into place. It’s a vicious mockery of the way she’d hoped to be held by him just a half moon ago, and the irony of it stings more than is comfortable to admit even to herself. She hardly even blinks, holding his stare hotly as she forces a hand through his guard to dip past the neckline of her stolen tunic.
“I waited for you for hours you know.” Her lips pull into a pout, and Nehv slots the blade kept hidden down the front of her corset to the underside of his ribcage.
For a long, delicious handful of seconds he’s rendered speechless, eyes darting from her blade, to mouth, to level gaze. Nehv’s not too proud to enjoy the vindictive curl of glee that unfurls in her chest. Clenching his jaw, he releases her hastily and scrambles backward as they both rise to their feet. Full lips part as if he’s about to respond, but as Shadowheart pulls up beside her in a cacophony of armor in motion his mouth snaps shut. Before anyone can speak, they’re sent swiftly to their knees once more as the parasite connects them, and for a moment Nehv is back in Baldur’s Gate, mouth watering as she prowls down a dark, crowded street.
She wonders what he’d seen in her own mind.
“What was that?” he snarls, dagger still held defensively in front of his chest. “What’s going on?”
“Put the knife away and we can figure it out,” Nehv hisses, the heel of one hand pressed to her eye where it stings beneath the pressure of the tadpole. He lowers his blade slowly, reluctance written into every line of his body.
“You’re…” For a moment she wonders if he’s going to mention the solstice. “Not one of them.” Nehv shakes her head. “They took you just the same as me. And to think, I was ready to decorate the ground with your innards.” He straightens up, free hand quick to smooth down the front of his doublet. “Apologies.” Nehv returns her blade to its hiding spot and dips her chin.
“It’s alright, I’d have done the same.” She pretends not to notice the thrill that runs up her spine when he smirks at her. Long hair whispers past the point of one ear as she bends to retrieve the Everburn Blade from where it lies the dust. “I never got your name.” If he notices her double entendre, the pale man doesn’t acknowledge as much.
“Astarion.” He offers with a dip of his chin, red eyes locked on hers. Nehv swallows around her suddenly dry throat. “I was in Baldur’s Gate when those beasts snatched me.” A beat, as he tilts his head. “Do you know anything about these worms?”
“Well,” Nehv snorts, “I know we don’t want them in our heads.” She suspects they’ve all intuited just what future lies ahead of them, should they fail to extract the tadpoles. No point agonizing over the gory details. “Care to travel with us? We’ve better odds together.” Or will you stand me up this time too? A voice in the back of her head wonders. Astarion considers for a second, the muscles at the corner of his jaw fluttering.
“Alright.” He finally concedes, “lead on.” Astarion (she turns his name over in her head and finds she likes it quite well) joins her side with a bow, red eyes piercing beneath the slant of strong, mid afternoon light. Sheathing her sword, Nehv carries on up the bluffs, and does her best to seem unaffected.
They gain a wizard who seems all too happy to discuss the finer, more gory details of ceremorphosis; later, they stumble upon Lae’zel, snared in a trap that hangs above a low gully and glowering venomously for it. The Tieflings who man the trap prove all too easy to deceive into leaving, horns glinting in the sun as they point Nehv toward the grove where they camp. She thanks them profusely, and waits only so long as takes them to ascend out of sight before shooting down the trap. Shadowheart bristles at their newest addition, while Gale does little to hide his excitement. Astarion, for his part, only raises grey eyebrows with a small smirk.
“Let's check and see if those ruins below have anything we can barter for supplies before heading up,” Nehv decides after directing Lae’zel to choose a spot for their own camp along the riverbank to the north, where the forest promises food and firewood. Rolling her head on her neck, she sheathes her sword and leads the party down toward crumbling ruins. As they enter, fresh off a quickly decided squabble with a small troupe of looters, Nehv expects the obvious: rats, rot, traps. What she doesn’t expect is to wake a platoon of armed undead, much less so ones left behind in defense of what she's nearly certain to be an old god. Through it all, Astarion doesn’t mention their encounter over the solstice, and so Nehv follows suit.
At least, that is, until they first break camp, party one stronger courtesy of the Blade of Frontiers.
She waits until everyone’s retired for the night, and then a little bit longer until the crickets have brought their song up to a crescendo before rolling her shoulders back and crossing to Astarion’s tent. He watches her approach from where he peruses a stolen tome, affecting indifference.
“So,” Nehv begins, drawing out the syllable as red eyes wander up her body. “Is it safe for me to assume that my good looks and sharp wit were just too intimidating for you?” She grins wickedly as he snaps the book in his hand shut with an indignant huff.
“I wasn’t intimidated.” Astarion argues, rising to the bait immediately with brows drawn down over narrowed eyes.
“Sounds like something someone who was intimidated would say.” Nehv laughs, hands on her hips. “Until you give a more compelling reason for standing me up it’s just what I’m going to have to assume.” She tosses unbound hair over one shoulder and watches as the man before her purses his lips, slow to consider his next words.
“I apologize.” He offers quietly, suddenly serious. Somewhere to their right a snipe beats blunt wings into the night, and for the first time since she’d bowed her head beneath the Gate’s arched entry, Nehv feels at home. “I assure you, I would have rather been there.” Eyes softening beneath dilute orange light thrown from the dying fire, Nehv searches and finds that she doesn’t care to hold it against him.
“Maybe next time.” She smiles, and watches as some of the severity drains from Astarion’s face.
“This is all so new,” he murmurs, tilting his gaze up to the stars overhead. Nehv follows suit, searching for familiar constellations to orient herself around. The Centaur rises slowly above them, the long line of his sword gleaming in triplicate stars. Shouldn’t be long now before Correlian comes into view.
“I hope you find some rest.” Nehv smiles up into the stars. “We’ll need it for tomorrow.”
“I’m…” He pauses, voice faltering. “In no place to rest yet. Today has been rather a lot. I need some time to think things through, to process this.” Turning her gaze away from the sky, Nehv has to fight down a blush as Astarion continues. “You rest.” He’s ethereal under wan moonlight, words honeyed and thick in his throat. “I’ll keep watch.”
“Thank you,” Nehv bites her lower lip, suddenly aware of why she’d risked so much to try and meet him amongst Bloomridge’s riotous flowers. “I’ll sleep better for it.” For a moment, she has the decency to wish she was lying.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He dips his chin to lean closer. “Sweet dreams.” Nehv settles into her bedroll, heart thundering traitorously, and closes her eyes in anticipation of the red-eyed dreams to follow.
Dawn lifts indigo and stars alike from the sky with pale fingers of grey light that rouse their camp gently. Creature of habit that she is Nehv wakes first, closely followed by Lae’zel, who offers a morning spar she readily accepts. By the time they return to the fireside, lightly sweating (Lae’zel) and finally free of the lingering weight of Astarion’s phantom stare (Nehv), the others have risen.
Their day passes quickly, filled with tedious, circular conversations with and about the druids that have Nehv near to tearing her hair out, a refreshing battle with a trio of harpies that’s almost enough to get her sweating, and a veritable laundry list of new tasks. Halsin, everyone near whispers, awe heavy on their tongues, Halsin will save you. Nehv’s not so quick to get her hopes up, but it does sound like a promising lead, and so she agrees to see what she can do.
They stumble back to camp as the sun begins to sink into the waiting treeline, crickets lifting their voices to join the Chionthar’s happy burble. Exhausted, Nehv sinks onto one of the logs beside the fire to pour over her map, brows knit. Tomorrow they’ll make their way to the village marked to the west, and from there along the Risen Road to Waukeen’s Rest for more supplies. Depending on what they encounter along the way, she decides as Shadowheart materializes beside her with a glass of (very welcome) wine, they’ll rest another night before doubling back to the goblin’s camp. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best plan they’ve got. Clinking the rim of her glass against Shadowheart’s, Nehv sets the map aside and rolls sore shoulders back with a sigh, hyperaware of Astarion’s eyes on her over the top of his book.
Birdsong filters through the canopy overhead as Nehv crouches low to peer at a dead boar that bloats merrily across the footpath they follow. Two fingers probe along its throat until she finds twin puncture wounds, old enough that the skin at their edges pulls tight as it dries in the sun. There’s no blood left to clot.
“The pig’s dead, darling.” Astarion’s voice cuts through the sparrows, and Nehv chooses to ignore him. “Staring at it won’t bring it back.” He stands over one shoulder, the point of his left ear blocking the light to send a long shadow across the boar’s gaunt snout.
“What do you think?” Nehv asks, squinting into the sun as she turns to peer up at him. The pale man purses his lips, jaw fluttering for a moment as he considers.
“It’s been drained of blood by those wounds in its neck.” Well, she could have told him that. The sentiment must have made it onto her face, as grey brows draw down into a scowl. “It’s been killed by a vampire. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to worry you.” He swallows, glances away from the carcass before them to reluctantly meet her stare. “They are ferocious creatures.” Gale makes a sound of exasperation, as if the statement undersells the threat. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep watch tonight. We won’t have to worry about nocturnal visitors.” Nehv rises slowly, dusts her knees off as she takes one last lingering glance at the boar. A horsefly crawls up along one cheekbone to tear a piece from the thin skin below one glassy eye. It’s no coincidence the larger scavengers won’t touch it. “Now please, let’s go.”
Twilight comes slowly, held at bay by the sun as it lingers in a heavy crescent just above the tree line. Gale cooks dinner beside the fire in near silence while Lae’zel sharpens her blades a few paces off, tension spread thick across their little camp by word of the exsanguinated corpse. As the sky bleeds red with the last gasp of sunlight, they eat while Astarion excuses himself to walk the perimeter. Nehv cracks her neck where she stretches out a few paces from the riverbank where Withers ponders the sky. It’ll be a long night.
The others retire to their tents, and Nehv situates herself by the fire, not one to sleep beneath a tent unless the weather demands as much. Tonight, even the crickets choose not to sing, and as the moon rises in a wan crescent the only sounds that clear the river are faint whispers of thrush song from far off. She tosses another log on the fire and settles back against her pack.
He’s not returned by the time she slips into trance.
She startles awake from a dream of red eyes boring into her own as full lips skate over the plane of her stomach to the cool fan of breath against her throat. Astarion crouches above her, palms flat on either side of her head as he angles his mouth over her carotid, lips pulled back to reveal recurved fangs. Adrenaline crashing down her spine, Nehv plants a knee to his chest and shoves him off her with a gasp.
“sh*t.” He swears as she scrambles backwards, one hand already curled around the hilt of a shortsword. “No no– it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” Nehv scoffs, springing to her feet as he holds his hands out. “I wasn’t going to hurt you!” She lifts her eyebrows incredulously, glancing pointedly down at the fangs that glint threateningly in the firelight. How had she missed those? “I just needed– well, blood.”
“How long since you last killed someone?” She hisses, voice kept just low enough to avoid outright waking the others. “Have you been out to hunt each night?”
“I’ve never killed anyone for food.” He insists, “I feed on animals– bears, kobolds, whatever I can get.” Well, that explains the boar, at least. “But it’s not enough, not if I have to fight. I feel so… weak.” Nehv folds her arms, lips turned down in a frown as her pulse steadies. “If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”
There’s something about the beseeching tone that lances through her, certainly more honest than he’d meant to be.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” A log snaps over the coal bed, sending embers spiraling up into the night. Astarion doesn’t look away.
“At best, I was sure you’d say no.” He shrugs. “At worst, I assumed you’d ram a stake through my ribs.” She watches his collarbones hollow out as he draws a slow, superfluous breath. “I needed you to trust me." She remembers the way her body had sung as he held her beneath trembling torchlight, confusion and delight blooming in her chest as he'd led them through each measure. "And you can trust me.”
“I do.” Nehv whispers, holding his gaze as she returns her sword to its discarded sheath. “I believe you.”
“Thank you.” He licks his lips, stare dropping to the spot where her pulse still hammers high in her throat. “Do you think you could trust me just a little further?”
Nehv nods.
Palm extended between them, Astarion leads her back toward the fire when she places her hand in his, and for a moment she feels almost as if they’re back beneath the glittering light of solstice proper. He eases her down to the bedroll with a gentle hand cupped around the base of her skull. Nehv inhales, a trembling thing that she wishes immediately she’d had the presence of mind to steady. When Astarion sinks his teeth into her he moans, hot and low as if she’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Her stomach clenches, heat building low and slick against her better judgement. All pretenses of decorum vanish, replaced by soft little growls with each long pull from her, the brush of his ear against her jaw— the whole act is terribly intimate, she realizes with a thrill, what little blood she can spare rushing to color her cheeks.
Cool hands curl into her waist as Astarion settles the full weight of him into the cradle of her hips, and when he exhales shakily in a gust against her throat Nehv has to lift a hand to her mouth to hold back a moan of her own. He responds instantly, right hand hooking behind her knee to draw it over his hip as he presses more firmly against her, gently recurved fangs sliding deeper into her skin with the motion. Pain, delicate and sweet on her tongue like spun sugar, melts across her mind. Flexing her fingers and finding them numb, Nehv lifts her free hand to splay between his shoulder blades. It earns her a growl of delight in response, a heady little tightening of his jaw that has her gaping out his name as her body trembles beneath him. When the spots begin to dance at the edges of her vision she taps his shoulder urgently. “Astarion?” Her voice comes out threadbare, hardly loud enough to clear the fire. His hands flex where they bruise at her hips. Were it not for the very real possibility of her passing out, she’d be desperate to keep his palms on her, but as her grip on consciousness begins to falter she tries again. “Astarion!” He inhales sharply, lashes fluttering against her skin as red eyes reluctantly open. “That’s enough.” When he unlatches it’s with a soft sound of pleasure that shoots right to her c*nt.
Astarion pulls back to peer at her with dark, wild eyes. Blood drips from the point of his chin, landing on one cheek to roll backwards down toward her temple. Without a moment of hesitation Astarion leans down, and Nehv swears lightning arcs through her as he licks it from her skin, pupils blown so far out that she can only see the faintest ring of red around them. In the back of her mind she hears the scream of panic as a boar races past her, clearly fleeing some predator more concerning than her.
Nehv has to try hard not to squirm as he sits up on his haunches, one hand still iron bound around her hip as he wipes the blood from his mouth with the other. For a moment there’s silence, save for the fire where it cracks and spits beside them, working its way through damp wood. Long, pale fingers shine starkly with her blood, impossible to look away from as Astarion dips them into his mouth, eyes heavy on her own.
“That,” he pauses to swallow thickly, throat working visibly with the motion, “that was amazing.” Nehv exhales shakily, struggling up onto her elbows as Astarion stumbles backwards onto his feet. He grins down at her, razor edged, and the beat of blood in her ears drowns out the boar's shrill cry. Through swimming vision, she notes the way his eyes linger on the bite mark that throbs at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you fight.” She smiles, lifting a hand to the wound gingerly.
“Shouldn’t take long.” He looks for a moment like he wants to peel her palm back. “So many people need killing.” Nehv laughs, wincing with the movement. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Long, pale fingers flex experimentally, and Astarion spares her one last toothy smile before turning on his heel. “You’re invigorating, but I need something more… filling.” He takes a few steps into the darkness before pausing, high cheekbones catching the moonlight as he turns quarter to murmur, just low enough for her to hear. “This is a gift, you know. I won’t forget it.”
She watches him stalk off into the night, and a thrill runs up her spine, heady and hot like the final few seconds before battle. Cold fingers experimentally probe the wound at her throat and come away sticky. Her c*nt aches.
She’s so f*cked.
