#broken bowstring

Elthiilith was quick to move, bringing her elbow into his chest and tackling him to the ground. He grunted with the impact, and she growled at him.

“Are you serious?” She hissed, “I trusted you!”

“I-It’s not what it looks like– I swear!”

She snatched the dagger out of the sheath on his waist and held it under his chin. “Give me one good reason not to slit your throat right now,” She muttered, before she glanced down at her hand.

His dagger. Was still in its sheath. He was unarmed.

He must have seen the look in her eyes go from knee-jerk betrayal to confusion, because he breathed a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. I just needed– well, blood.”

Elthiilith narrowed her eyes, “Blood?”

He swallowed against the edge of her blade, throat bobbing. She couldn’t feel his heart beating against her palm, flat against his chest. The firelight flickered against her blade and reflected light on something she hadn’t noticed before– a scar, of just two puncture marks on his throat, about the same distance as humanoid canines.

“Yes,” He muttered, but confusion and a little bit of indignance laced his tone, “Blood– did, did you say you trusted me?”

She ignored his question, brow furrowed as she studied Astarion a little harder, “Are… are you a vampire?”

He looked back at her, his own brows creasing at her hesitance, “You… You’re a little slow, aren’t you? Technically just spawn, unfortunately.”

“Oh. That explains it, then.” She took the pressure off of him a little bit, but not by much. Vampires were dangerous, but Astarion was completely off his guard, now. She’d have time to react if need be. She kept awareness of the stray branch by her foot.

“I– explains what?!”

“Well with all the stories I’ve heard of vampires, I expected someone more… intimidating.”

His jaw tensed in the face of her goading, before he took a measured breath through his nose. “Gods, I hate you.”

She grinned, “I know.”

His hand seized her wrist and with a swift turn, she was pinned under him, arms over her head, dagger scattered to the dust. He grabbed the dagger and threw it further out of her reach, “But there’s no need for that.”

She yelped in alarm, pulling at his wrists. No match, his strength was inhuman. Well, that made sense, actually. She sighed, before glowering at him, “Well, this feels familiar.”

“Yes,” He purred, the cocky bastard he was, “It’s almost like you like this position.”

“Try anything and I’ll scream,” She threatened.

He laughed, “You? Hah, it would be a cold day in Avernus before you’d scream for help. I’m flattered, really.”

“I can’t stand you.”

He smirked, “I know.”

“So how long has it been?” She asked pointedly, “Days? Hours?”

“I’m not some monster– I feed on animals. Boars, deer, kobolds– whatever I can get.”

Elthiilith’s brows shot up to her hairline. “Are you fucking joking.”

“I’m sorry, does it look like I’m joking?”

“You left your snack in the middle of the road? The boar? Wyll is a monster hunter, you’re aware of that, yes?”

“And yet, no one was any the wiser, were they?”

“Gods you’re insufferable. I take it you consider me an animal, then, which is why you were looking at my neck?”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m just…” He sighed, expression shifting– softening, “I’m just too slow right now. Too weak. If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better.” He looked back down to her, before his expression soured in response to her glare. “What?”

“And you thought I would be an easy meal?”

Astarion’s exhaustion with this conversation showed on his face, “Chalk it up to a temporary lapse in judgment.”

“I notice you’re asking now. You didn’t ask while I was tranced, though, did you?”

A smile fluttered over his features for a moment, “Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission?”

Her glare shut him up again.

“Fine. At best, I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs. I needed you to trust me. And you do, don’t you?”

“I only trusted you to not be stupid enough to pull something like this,” She gestured with her hand, although the meaning was lost with them both being pinned over her head.

“That’s not what you said earlier, darling,” His tone was his usual playful, but his face was stone serious.

“Khaless nau uss mzild taga dosstan. ‘Trust no one more than yourself.’ The one rule all drow follow, without question. Foolish of you to think I trusted you any more than your usefulness.”

His face remained stiff, but his eye twitched, almost breaking into a snarl. “To think I was trying to be nice to you. I could bite you right now and what could you do about it?”

His voice was a low, rumbling growl. She stiffened in his grasp, realizing her very, very dangerous mistake.

“Oh, so now you have the good sense to be afraid?”

“Does it come as that much of a shock that my blood is that valuable to me?”

“It would only be a taste, darling. Unless you continue to piss me off.”

Her jaw tensed. She squirmed harder against his hands, the predatory glint in his eyes making her pulse race. The more she squirmed, the harder his grip became.

“I can’t afford to be weak,” She whispered.

“What, don’t think I can protect you?” He grinned with only malice in that sharp-fanged smile.

“Astarion, please–” She couldn’t stop the words before they left her throat. Her eyes shot up to his face, as it melted from surprised to pleased to cocky.

“Ooh,” He purred, “I never thought I’d get to hear you beg. I notice you still haven’t screamed, though, darling.”

“I’d like to think we could still be adults about this.”

“Really? Suddenly decided to grow up now that you’re scared? Finally putting away our playground insults?”

“Astarion, let me go.”

“Oh no you don’t. Give me one reason to believe you won’t kill me as soon as I let you go.”

“I haven’t started screaming yet.”

“Not good enough.”

“I don’t want to kill you. I need you, still. Don’t force my hand.” She hated the way her desperation made her words sound like pleading.

“Oh, so now the sweet talk comes out. Very flattering, darling. Now tell me what you’d have me do to sate my hunger if I let you go.”

She swallowed, drawing a few deep breaths to keep her from lashing out. “You want an easy meal? We’re just down the road from the goblin camp. I think there are a couple of cultists there that owe us a favor, don’t you? You saw them at the party, right?”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, before realization dawned on his face. “Oh. Oh, very clever, Elthiilith.”

“It’s not like you all keep me around just for my good looks.”

“Very well. You’ve convinced me.” He smiled at her, now just his regular amount of smug instead of that ‘about-to-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teeth’ look he’d been giving her. He sat up off of her and she snatched her wrists to her chest, instinctively rubbing the sore spots he’d been holding. He stood and brushed off his clothes, before extending a hand to her. She studied him for a moment, before hesitantly accepting it, and he pulled her to her feet. “I’ll have you go first. Do all the talking. Those cultists seem to have a fondness for drow, anyway.”

She studied him for a moment, looking him up and down. “You trust me to go in alone?”

“Did you want to give me a reason not to?”

“I wouldn’t, if I were in your shoes.”

“Good thing I’m not you, then,” He spat, “Besides, you didn’t scream.”

—

Getting into the goblin camp was easy enough. Even at the hour, the goblin guards stepped out of the way without question. Finding Andrick was almost just as easy, laying on a bedroll just within the camp’s entrance, fast asleep. She knelt down to his bedroll and shook him awake.

“I– What? O-Oh, True Soul?” His voice was thick with sleep and confusion. He scrambled to situate himself.

Elthiilith put the warmest smile she could muster, “Andrick, was it? Praise the Absolute, I’m so glad I found you. I’m happy to see you made it back alright.”

He blinked at the praise, chuckling nervously, “Y-Yes, both me and Brynn made it back. I-I’m glad to see you made it here, as well?” It was a question. Elthiilith didn’t blame the man, given what she was going to ask him to do.

“You were just the person I was looking for. The Absolute needs you.”

“M-Me? The Absolute–”

“Shh, ask no questions here. Others might get jealous,” She smiled coyly, tapping her fingers to her lips, “Come with me.”

“I-I– Of course, True Soul. Lead the way.”

He hastily pulled his boots on and Elthiilith led him out of the camp.

—

Astarion tapped his foot impatiently, waiting at a secluded spot between the goblin camp and where the rest of their party had elected to make camp for the night. It was well-forested, but still on the edge of a ravine– the roaring water below made it hard to hear anything.

Thankfully Elthiilith made no attempt to sneak up on him, lavender skin and pearlescent hair glowing in the moonlight. Drow were truly a gorgeous species, it was something he had known for ages but seeing Elthiilith step into the clearing with such ethereal grace served as a forceful reminder. Behind her trailed one of the novices they had met on the road, with that dead ‘true soul’– the male, the one who was more forthcoming with information of the two.

She smiled politely to Astarion in that way she did when she meant ‘play along,’ and turned sharply to stand beside him and face her captor.

“Andrick, this is Astarion– He’s a True Soul as well. The Absolute has shown him great kindness, but did not take away his unearthly hunger…”

The man– Andrick, he supposed– stiffened at Elthiilith’s forthrightness. Hells, even Astarion was alarmed at how plainly she put it. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye– but this was her expertise. If there was one thing he could trust about Elthiilith, it was her silver tongue.

“He– He’s a vampire?” Andrick couldn’t attempt to hide the horror on his face.

“No, no, my child,” Elthiilith’s voice was soothing– sickeningly soothing, “He is a child of the Absolute, now. But the Absolute needs him strong. And She wants you to help him.”

Andrick was still fearful, and Astarion was of half a mind to tackle him to the ground and drink his fill then. But he wasn’t running or screaming, yet. “Th-The Absolute wants this?”

Elthiilith stepped up to Andrick, blinking innocently up at him, “Yes, my child. She has spoken to me. Have no fear– I would not subject you to anything painful. He only needs a taste. It will be a prick, and then the two of us will take you back to your bedroll to sleep it off. You’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

Astarion could see Andrick’s face shift from fear to nervousness, Elthiilith’s closeness making him shy. As it should– Elthiilith was a master of pretty words. Lies, but pretty words nonetheless.

“You wish to be good, don’t you?” She cooed, and even Astarion felt his stomach drop, “You wish to devote yourself to the Absolute, mind, body and spirit, yes?”

Even in the darkness he could see Andrick flush under her praise. Finally he nodded, slowly, uncertain.

“Then let the Absolute hear you. Step up to Astarion, Andrick. No harm will befall you.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Astarion took a settling breath, putting on his sweetest, most compassionate smile. In his head, he reached out with the tadpole to Elthiilith.

Do you always make such a habit of humiliating your prey before you kill it?

The only sign she heard him was the way her eye twitched in discomfort. “You’ve seen me fight enough to answer that question yourself.”

He couldn’t help but feel a smirk stretch across his face. Andrick stood before him, head bowed, and Astarion mimicked Elthiilith’s performance, “Come, child. Let us make ourselves comfortable.”

I’ll have to take some notes.

“You’re already an expert, it’s just the killing part you seem to have trouble with.”

Andrick was seated on the ground, and Elthiilith sat in front of him, Astarion behind him. Elthiilith took both of his hands in comfort, but through their connection, he could see it was to keep them in place should he get cold feet. Astarion gently swept the stringy hair away from his neck and tilted his head oh-so-softly to the side.

Oh, this poor bastard is just putty in your hands. He doesn’t even know you’re lying through your teeth.

He didn’t miss the hint of a smirk that pulled onto her features for a moment, “It is my specialty, you know. Do make sure he doesn’t survive this.”

He smiled, before his teeth sank into Andrick’s flesh. With pleasure.

—

Elthiilith’s eyes widened at how easily Astarion punctured Andrick’s neck, the man grimacing at first, before it slowly faded. Astarion held Andrick tightly to his chest, caged him to keep him from squirming, while Elthiilith held his hands. She drew a breath.

She didn’t realize how lucky she was, to witness a vampire feed.

She felt a smile dance on her lips as she memorized the way the moonlight shined in Astarion’s silver hair, against his pale face, the way the shadows cast his face in such elegantly hard lines. How could he be a monster when he looked divine? His lips were pressed tightly to Andrick’s neck, nothing but the tiniest trickle of red leaking from his seal. His brow was furrowed deeply, clearly lost in the sensation. Andrick’s own face was going sort of slack– not like he was imminently going to fall unconscious, but that he didn’t know how to process the moment.

“Does it hurt?” Elthiilith asked, a tad too eager for her act.

Andrick’s eyes looked down from the heavens. “What? N-No… Not really.”

“How does it feel?”

“C-Cold,” He murmured, “L-Like ice.”

She could feel the sick excitement that danced over her face as she watched. She found herself momentarily envious of his position, held in reverence and like prey all at the same time. Andrick was not a pretty enough muse for her, but Astarion? Perhaps Astarion could make up for what Andrick lacked in beauty. He sucked down his blood eagerly, and Elthiilith could track each bob of his throat in time with the way Andrick squeezed her hands.

“M-Ma’am, please–” Andrick whispered.

“Please what, Andrick?” She tilted her head analytically, grinning in the face of his suffering, “Tell me what you need.”

“‘S… It’s too much–” He was beginning to slur his words.

“Shh, shh, my child. You’re doing so well. We would not take more than you could not give. The Absolute would not take more than you could not give. Trust in us.”

His breathing was beginning to pick up, “But I’m gettin’– Getting dizzy, ma’am, please let me go–”

“That’s perfectly normal, Andrick. Just take some deep breaths for me, won’t you?”

He sat like a deep gnome caught in a spider’s web, still and stiff and very very scared. Oh, it was beautiful.

He was quiet just a little longer, until his face started to grow pale and pallid, and his hands began to tremble.

“I– I can’t! Get off me! Please!” He jerked in Astarion’s grip, drawing a growl out of the leech. Astarion held him tighter, and Andrick tried to bring his hands to pry at the arms ensnaring him, but Elthiilith held him tightly. His eyes struggled to focus on her face. “Why? Wh– Why are you doing this to me?”

“I told you, the Absolute needs us strong. Needs him strong. This is your purpose.”

“N-No, I-I don’t believe it!”

Elthiilith felt a smirk break across her features, “Well, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

She pulled his arms further away from his body, preventing him from drawing any strength in them. He squirmed weakly, eyes unfocusing, breath quickening.

“Go gently unto sleep, Andrick. You have served us well, you know.”

“Don’t do this–” He drew a ragged breath, “Please.”

“Shhh,” She dropped his weak, useless arms to stroke a swipe over his balding head, perhaps a last act of tenderness to soothe the pain of betrayal, “Shhhh, Andrick. You did good, Andrick.”

His eyes fell shut and he went slack against Astarion. His breath was measured slowly in his sleep, until it wasn’t any longer. Finally, Astarion pried himself away from Andrick’s neck, gasping heavily.

“Gods– that,” He spoke between shaky breaths, “That was amazing.”

He met Elthiilith’s gaze, and she felt her heart stall in her chest. His eyes were wide, chin down, looking almost through his lashes at her. His pupils were blown wide like they’d be in the dark, and the moonlight caught that tiniest ring of red around it and made it glow. His face was like it was carved out of marble, and his scarlet delight trailed from the corner of his mouth down his chin. He pushed the body out of his way and stood up, fingers trailing to his mouth to wipe away the excess.

Elthiilith was on her feet, stepping over the cooling, exsanguinated corpse and weaving her way into Astarion’s space. Her wrist blocked his arm from nearing his face.

“Don’t,” She whispered, a reverent whisper.

He looked down at her, eyes flitting between her own and her lips, as if trying to puzzle out her message.

“Lolth’s silk, you’re beautiful.”

His eyes snapped into focus, before a pleased smirk stretched over his painted lips. “Oh, darling, you’re looking at me as though you want a taste.”

Elthiilith couldn’t find the words. For once in her life, she was rendered speechless by the sight before her. As soon as the words and their meaning registered her eyes flew up to Astarion’s. “I– mmph!”

She couldn’t speak, for in a moment of boldness, Astarion’s hand curled into the back of her head and pulled her sharply to meet his lips. She almost stumbled– knees going weak at his forwardness, but with a free hand pressed into the small of her back she simply molded against him. Her hands curled into fists in his clothes, and her eyes fluttered shut. His lips were so soft, it drew the breath right out of her. He retreated only a moment to move them; Elthiilith’s back planted against the back of a tree and Astarion’s hand was on the curve of her hip and Elthiilith’s hands were in his hair–

He kissed her again, deeply, passionately. She couldn’t suppress the soft croon she made into his mouth, as his tongue darted into her mouth. Oh, she could taste it– the sharp, metallic taste of blood that coated the inside of his mouth. She shivered. She felt the wetness on his chin smear against her; marked by the passions of a vampire, the thought sent a shiver down her spine. The deadly points of his teeth pricked her lower lip and she moaned–

Astarion pulled away, one hand pressing into the tree bark beside her head, looking down at her like she might be his next meal, but this time it sent a rush of heat through her. He licked his lips– the blood she had urged him not to touch was smeared over his pale skin, evidence of the heat of the moment.

“You’re right,” He breathed, catching his breath. One knuckle caught under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. In another hour or so she’d be embarrassed by her compliance. “You do look good like this.”

Her insides fluttered. She swallowed down the bats in her stomach. “Yes, that was– that was an experience worthy of poetry, I think.”

He got a devilish look in his eyes, and she absently thought she should have been more precise with her words, but the rest of her couldn’t care less.

“Oh, darling,” He hummed, voice oozing sultry and sex, “I could give you something to sing about.”

Had she not been already hanging onto him for dear life, her knees would have given out beneath her.

“But, not now. You are– this was… invigorating. But I need to find something a little more… filling. You’re very clever, Elthiilith. I won’t soon forget this gift.”

She nodded dumbly, gradually releasing her hands and letting him go.

He strode off into the night, shoulders back, head high– confident, fearsome, strong.

“I-I meant–” She muttered after him, but knowing he couldn’t hear her, drew a breath instead, trying to calm her racing heart, “I– oh fuck me.”

“I suppose,” He stepped a little closer to Elthiilith, keeping the conversation between just the two of them, and spoke honestly for the first time since they’d met, “I’m not sure what I expected, really. This is all a little new.”

She walked to the nearby stream, beckoning him to follow. “The night normally means bustling streets, bursting taverns. Curling up in the dirt and resting is… a little novel.” He punctuated his sentence with a soft sigh through his nose

Elthiilith knelt down and soaked her hands in the freezing water. “It is a little new, I’ll give you that,” She muttered, before pulling her hands out of the water, shaking them off, and placing the icy skin to her burning face.

She heard Astarion shuffle to sit on a stone, “Ah, yes. You… you haven’t been out of the Underdark before, have you?”

She pressed the backs of her fingers to her forehead, bristling at the humor that snuck into his tone. “A little presumptuous, aren’t you?”

He grinned with those wicked fangs she noticed earlier in the day, “Oh, darling, you wound me. It’s cute that you think you’re so subtle. You’ve been stumbling about like a newborn fawn. I bet you don’t even know what a fawn is.”

“Don’t be absurd,” She bit, glaring at the elf through her lashes.

“Oh really? Then what is it?” His grin became pompous and annoying to her.

She growled, dodging the question, “Don’t waste my time with childish games of trivia. Consider yourself lucky to be alive– most of us will kill darthiir on sight.”

“Ah, yes, ‘darthiir’ meaning me. Pull something like that and you won’t know what hit you.” His voice was light, airy, playful until it dropped into a threatening growl on the last words.

She studied him– his form was not threatening, he posed no danger to her now. But it did confirm she’d have to keep a close eye on him. She sighed, soaking her hands again.

“Here,” He pulled a handkerchief out of a pouch on his hip, a rust-stained piece of white cloth with a fraying, embroidered “A” in cursive lettering. He extended it to her, an offering.

She glared at it, before going back to him.

He rolled his eyes, “Or continue using your hands until you get frostbite…”

He was about to tuck it back into his pouch, but her nimble fingers snatched it from him. She soaked it in the water, wrung it out, before pressing the cold cloth to her face. She tried to ignore how much it smelled like leather and sharp, warm cologne. It tickled her nose and made the inside of her chest feel warm.

Astarion tutted. “Didn’t anyone teach you any manners?”

She snorted in the face of his dramatic outrage, “Oh, they did. Perhaps they should be taught to you surface-dwellers, too?”

Something in Astarion’s face darkened, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She turned her own gaze to the water.

“Um, thank you.”

He looked up, obviously surprised by her showing even the most base of gratitude.

She hissed through her teeth as she pressed the cloth to her cheekbones, “You’d think that, with all the magical healing I’ve been doling out, these hellfire burns would have been healed by now.”

“I– I’m sorry, did you say hellfire burns?” His brows knitted together, and he was trying very hard to hold back his amusement.

“You were still in your pod until the crash. There was hellfire everywhere on that accursed ship– or perhaps it was dragon’s fire, but it was hotter than hells– literally.”

Astarion pursed his lips tightly together, before his concerted effort to keep from laughing failed. His laugh was deep and boisterous, coming from the chest. It would have been contagious had it not been directed at her. “Oh, my dear,” He spoke through giggles, “You really haven’t been on the surface before! Those are sunburns. Looks like you’ve got a bad case of it, too.”

“Sunburns?!” She hissed, cold fingers pressing into the irritated skin, “It can’t be! My skin should be black with char, then!”

“Did you think you’d erupt into cinders, darling?” Astarion couldn’t quell his laughter.

“I expected more of a burn,” She hissed, “And the tadpole has changed… a few things. After the first hour or two I figured it– well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“Oh, darling,” He laughed, “Not all of us could get that lucky. But you may want to invest in a nice sun hat if we’re going to continue to be diurnal.”

“I plan to the first opportunity I get. Until then I suppose I have to suffer.” She wrung out the handkerchief and handed it back to him, “Get some rest. We’ll need it for the journey ahead.”

Astarion took the handkerchief and worried it in his hands for a moment, “Oh, please. I’m in no place to rest yet. Today has been… a lot. I need some time to think things through. To process this.” His hand came up to his head. After a breath, that sly smile returned to his face, “You sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“Mh, no. I think I’ll stay up with you.”

“Doing a little stargazing, now that you can?”

“If it suits my fancy. I’m not very partial to leaving you…” She tutted, “unsupervised.”

Astarion raised a brow at her, before he smirked, “Darling, if you just wanted to spend time with me, you could have asked.”

Elthiilith hardly blinked at the question, “Stop what, us’dalhar?”

She heard Maeve roll over again. “Stop humming,” There was a pause, “It sounds pretty.”

“I’d hope so,” Elthiilith’s humor was dry enough to catch fire, “Given that I’d made a killing with my voice.”

“Hm…” Maeve scooted a little closer, making Elthiilith stiffen in response, “Sing me a lullaby?”

Elthiilith clicked her tongue, “What, like an infant?”

“Oh come on,” She whined, setting her head on Elthiilith’s thigh, “Can’t I be babied a little bit?”

Maeve looked up at her, blinking those otherworldly eyes innocently. Elthiilith simply raised a brow, before lowering the hilt of her sword so the bottom of the blade almost brushed against Maeve’s neck. Not with intent, she maintained the facade that she hadn’t just moved it on purpose. It was simply a warning, hoping the startle the young drow off. “You’re so foolish, Maeve, putting your pretty little head in my clutches like this. So pretty I’d love to just take it and hang it on my wall.”

Maeve rolled her eyes, not phased in the slightest. “Ugh, always with the act, Elthee. Like I couldn’t turn your organs into paste and your sword into butterflies.”

The grin on Maeve’s face was one she’d worn well, but hadn’t seen often. Sweet, threatening, and a side of mad. Elthiilith moved her sword, so as to not provoke the sorcerer.

“So are you going to sing to me?” Maeve prodded again.

“We are sleeping out in the wilderness, us’dalhar. Have you no fear of the–?” Elthiilith simply looked down, and remembered who she was talking to. She was surprised she had forgotten, given that the drow radiated fey magic. With a sigh through her nose, she relented. “Fine. I will hum you a lullaby. But since you do not speak drow, I will explain it to you.”

“It’s a lullaby, how much meaning can go into it?”

“It’s our culture, wael. You wanted to learn it, didn’t you?”

Maeve looked up at her, grinning, “Of course I want to learn it!”

“Then hush– you’re going to wake the others up.”

Maeve pursed her lips, but Elthiilith could see where the corners of her lips bent into a smile. She nodded.

With a long, onerous sigh, Elthiilith began her tale. “It starts with a young girl, smarter and more clever than all her sisters. She goes through the underdark and devises her way out of endless traps– she outsmarts dark mantles, mindflayers, and even devils. But then she meets Lolth, and tries to outsmart Her. The moment she thinks she’s won, and starts to celebrate, Lolth bites off her head for her arrogance.”

“Hm. Sounds like a dark lullaby.”

Elthiilith snorted, “You haven’t heard Elazthirin Elgg-hor– ‘Elazthirin the Destroyer.’ One of the most famous nursery rhymes in Menzoberranzan. Nothing was sweeter than walking by a crowd of kids playing, singing about using surfacescum entrails as decoration.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. I’ve learned such subjects are ‘taboo’ with… people of weaker constitutions,” She shot pointed glance at Wyll, causing Maeve to snicker. “But I think they’re enriching. Teach a child strong values– like keep your nose where it belongs.” There was a pause, and Elthiilith’s face grew sour, “…to think I sang it to my daughter.”

Maeve’s head tilted up in Elthiilith’s lap, but that was the only indication of her surprise. “…You have a daughter?”

Elthiilith set her jaw. “Had. But that was… ages ago, now.” With a sharp inhale, she straightened, “Unimportant.”

She cleared her throat, and began humming again. The tune was a little different than the one she was humming earlier, but had a similar soft, melancholy melody. Mournful, she thought her companions would describe it. To her, it was simply what lullabies sounded like.

Elthiilith spent hours seated like that, Maeve’s head in her lap as she rested, breathing slow and even. She had long put her sword away, and found her fingers playing with Maeve’s white, braided hair. She picked the buds of mushrooms that tried to grow in her scalp and the fabric of Elthiilith’s pants.

She instinctively stiffened when she saw Astarion’s rigid form sway, before he stretched languidly. His red eyes scanned camp before falling on Elthiilith, then Maeve.

His brows arched upwards and his mouth fell into his sarcastic grin.

“What?” She snapped, no louder than a whisper, as to not to disturb the drow girl beneath her.

The iciness of metal was pressed against her throat and a hand on her shoulder yanked her to the ground. She hit with a solid thump! Shadowheart stepped up in her peripheral vision, but she didn’t get a chance to step closer. Her attacker pointed the tip of the blade to her throat and she held it away. She took one glance into ruby red eyes before she moved her grip on the dagger, and deftly rolled them over.

Her hands caught his wrists and the dagger flew from his grip as she slammed him into the dirt. She cackled, “Horrible form, who taught you–?!”

A flash of fangs in his grimace made her hesitate, pulse thrumming in her ears. Was this– was he a szarkai?

With a combination of her distraction and unnatural strength, the albino rolled them again, shoving her off and over until she was the one in the dirt. He rushed to resituate his hands, but in her moment of freedom she shoved the dagger well out of his reach.

He tutted, “Cheeky.” His hand fell to her waist, fumbling for her own dagger. She moved to knee him in the chest, but he had her legs trapped against either side of his waist, due to her own horrid form. She supposed that was the trouble about learning all her best self-defense in the bedroom.

She grasped his hand and yanked him away from her weapon, only for him to snatch his hand back. She brought an elbow into his nose and he shouted in alarm, retreating off of her enough for them both to get to their feet.

“Why you–” He growled, clutching his nose, “I saw you on the ship, strutting about while I was trapped in that pod!”

“Strutting?!” She hissed, “I was captive!”

“Really?” He bit with a guffawing laugh, “That’s not what I saw. What did you and those tentacled freaks do to me?!?”

“I haven’t done anything to you, yet!”

“You arrogant little– argh!” He shouted in pain as knowledge arched between them. Elthiilith saw dark streets– surface streets– if only for a moment. But all she saw was the bewildering shock of sunlight and she couldn’t tell if she was reliving her own memories or his.

“What was that? What’s going on?” He barked as he recovered.

“And you think I’d tell you after that performance?”

“I’m not an idiot. It has to do with those tentacled monsters. Something they did…” He wiped the blood away from his nose, looking at it for a moment. “They did take you. I saw it during… whatever just happened. I’m half tempted to spill your guts all over the dirt anyway, but for now– apologies.”

“You’d better have more to offer than ‘apologies,’” She bit.

“I’m the one with a broken nose!” He whined, “You came out of this altercation practically smelling like daisies.”

“I smell like dirt, thank you very much, and broken? I’m flattered, but I would have known if your pretty little nose broke. I would have loved to include the sound in my next song, ‘The Most Foolish Darthiir.”

“Oh, a songwriter? Make sure you include my name, then– Astarion.”

“Oh, such a delicate name for a delicate nose. I could rhyme it with 'avinsin'– doomed to watch his clothing stain the color of his eyes once I finish with him–”

“That’s hardly even a near rhyme–”

“You two are fucking insufferable!” Shadowheart finally shouted, drawing both of their attentions, “Do you intend to do this with every pompous elf we meet?”

“Perhaps only the ones who try to kill me,” She hissed, kicking the dagger out of the dirt with her toes and catching it, before throwing it towards Astarion. He caught it easily, but she thought it would have been extremely funny if he hadn’t.

“You wish for me to try harder this time?” He growled, holding the dagger at the offensive.

“I think it would be quite funny to watch. Call me Elthiilith.”

“Why should I call you anything?”

“Because it’s so much more poetic if the killing is personal.”

“Elthiilith,” Shadowheart stepped up to her side, “We have places to be.”

“Relax, abbil. We’re just getting to the good part,” She turned her attention sharply to Astarion, “You have a tadpole in your head, as well.”

“Well we already established that, darling,” He slid the dagger back into its sheath. Smart move. “Do you know anything about them?”

She spoke tightly, curtly, like she did back in Court, “Yes, unfortunately. They’ll turn us into mind flayers.”

Astarion stared, blinked, before words started to form. “Turn us into– ha! Hahaha!” His laugh turned into a snarl, grimacing at the ground, “Of course it’ll turn me into a monster. What else did I expect?”

She felt a traitorous stab of empathy cut through her– had she not thought the same thing, after she discovered she could run without aching now, with the worm in her head?

“Although… it hasn’t happened yet. If we can find an expert– someone that can control these things– there might still be time.”

Control. Yes, that was the word that had been avoiding her recently. Not purge, not purify, not cure– control.

“You should travel with me,” She spoke suddenly, surprising even herself.

“Really?” He asked her, narrowing his eyes, “After all that talk about ‘staining my clothes the color of my eyes?’”

She rolled her own. “If I killed every person who’d ever tried to kill me I wouldn’t have any friends.”

“I find it hard to believe a drow could be that forgiving.”

She easily closed the distance between them, “Oh, darling, I’m not.” She smiled wickedly, doing a near-perfect mimicry of his own voice, “But you know what they say– keep your friends close, and all that.”

His breath hitched as she pointed the tip of her own dagger against his stomach, grabbing him by the belt of his tunic so he couldn’t flinch away. Just as soon as he’d gotten the message she stepped back and turned the pommel towards him– an offering.

“I imagine you’ll want a second one. Might make you more effective.”

He glanced between the dagger and Elthiilith, before matching her grin, “You know, I was ready to go it alone, but maybe sticking with the herd isn’t such a bad idea. And you seem like a much better person to know than to not know.”

There was a moment of consideration behind his eyes, one that his sticky-sweet purr would have disguised had Elthiilith not spent her whole life looking for it. Then his grin finally reached his eyes, and he accepted the gift from Elthiilith’s hands. “All right, I accept. Lead on.”

“He’s coming with us?” Shadowheart gaped, “So I’m going to have to listen to that the whole way. Fantastic.”

“Not to worry, Shadowheart,” Elthiilith grinned, not turning her back to Astarion again, “I’ll make sure to keep my idle chatter to a minimum.”